Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Childwrangling’ Category

The other day I was having coffee with my dad friend TMR and he ordered a mugaccino. Yes, a mugaccino. For those of you whose lives  have thus far been untouched by the mugaccino, let me explain it this way: it’s a cappuccino. In a mug.

I snorted slightly as it was delivered.

“Oh, [TMR],” I said, shaking my head. “A mugaccino is sooooo 1995.”

Even the cafe owner laughed as he placed it on the table. But then, I have the cafe owner well trained. He basically knows to start laughing the moment I walk through the cafe door but I’m not sure he’s always laughing in a kind way.

A few minutes later, however, it was TMR’s turn to raise an eyebrow when the cafe owner placed a Chai Latte in front of me.

“Yeah, okay, alright,” I said, feeling a bit exposed. “At least my drink wasn’t in fashion with Jennifer Aniston’s ‘Rachel’ ‘do.”

Still, there we both were, with our notsohotrightnow drinks. We chatted for a while about ways we could get them to join forces, wonder twins style, to become a ‘chai-accino’ or a ‘mugachai’. But that last one just sounded like a character from hit 1984 movie ‘Gremlins’. And no, I don’t know why I thought that, either.

Anyway, it turns out TMR is simply waiting for the mugaccino to become the ‘it’ drink again. Just in the same way, I’m waiting for Cornflakes to become the ‘it’ cereal in my household so that the 5KG Family Pack taking up precious pantry real estate might actually get eaten.

You see, I live with a bunch of food faddists. Mostly this faddism is concentrated in the area of breakfast cereal where a particular cereal will be eaten voraciously right up until the point I invest large sums of money in the type of bulk-buy pack that requires its own shopping trolley. It’s at that moment that my children will suddenly regard eating the cereal in question as the equivalent of stuffing one’s mouth with shredded cardboard and cat’s piss.

Fruit, too, is also a key focus area for food faddism. For example, Mr Justice last year proclaimed the humble ‘Golden Delicious’ as his ‘apple of choice’, shortly before it went out of season. I waited half a year for them to appear back on the supermarket shelves only to have him take one bite and spit it out, declaring it to be ‘the devil’s own food’. Yes, that apple tree in the garden of Eden was apparently a Golden Delicious tree. Who knew.

To be honest, I think they basically inherit this trait from their father – my so-called husband – who will announce that from this moment on he will only eat chicken and vegetable pies and then, mere minutes later, will have taken to his bed complaining of ‘pie poisoning’.

The most annoying thing of all of this is trying to cater for such movable palates. If you were to draw a Venn diagram of foods each of my children deemed ‘acceptable for consumption’ at any given moment in time, the circles representing each child will cross at one point and one point only: hot chips.

Personally, I hope for two things: that there is a scientist out there somewhere on the verge of declaring hot chips as the new Super Food (bye bye, banana) and that hot chips never, ever, EVER go out of fashion. Not like the mugaccino, eh, TMR?

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Like many people, I loathe having to make the double-goodbye – you know, when you go through the whole “I’m leaving now. Great to see you. Catch you again soon!” routine with, like, EVERYONE in the room, only to reappear a couple of minutes later because you’ve left one of your children behind. It always makes me feel a little like a dog returning to its own vomit – a phrase I admittedly tend to over-use in the same way that, well, a dog might return to its own vomit.

So is it any surprise that, having made my farewells at the kindergarten the other day and dragged Tiddles McGee, his bag and his portfolio of ‘pasting’ masterpieces (= patty pans stuck randomly to cardboard) to the car only to have him suddenly start tugging furiously at the front of his pants, that I opted for my now patented pee-in-a-bottle method?

Now, every time I employ this method, I promise myself that I will dispose of the bottle at the earliest opportunity, to avoid any “I’m thirsty! Ooh, there’s a bit of apple juice left here in this here unlabeled bottle…” high jinx.

And every time, I totally forget about it.

You might ask how anyone could forget about a bottle of urine on their car passenger seat. Let’s just say it takes a special kind of person.

Of course, a few days (yes, days) later, I was driving along when I saw my friend The MR walking along with his daughter on the other side of the road. I hastily pulled over to the side of the road to offer them both a lift to the school. And as I hastily pulled over, I heard a distinct noise. It was the distinct noise of a plastic bottle full of piss rolling off the passenger seat and falling down into a place that could only mean the first thing that would happen when The MR opened the passenger door was that the bottle would roll out and land cheerfully at his feet.

And so I began scrabbling furiously down the side of the passenger seat to retrieve the bottle before he opened the door.

See where this is going? Yes, instead of opening the passenger door to have a plastic bottle of piss fall and explode on his feet, The MR opened the passenger door to find a middle-aged woman stretched seductively across the passenger seat. Holding a plastic bottle of piss.

I think we’ll all agree that’s what’s called a result.

Of course, you’d think I’d remember to dispose of the bottle after that. Yes, you’d think that.

But no. The bottle had to remain in the car long enough that the next time we were parked outside the school, Tiddles McGee was able to pick it up from where I’d hastily stashed it and, holding it out to a large group of parents and children passing by, announce proudly “Here’s my wee!!”.

Needless to say, when we got home from that particular school run, I prioritised putting that particular bottle of wonderful straight into the outside bin. And I’m delighted to report that I got to have a prolonged chat with one of my neighbours while doing it…

By the way, in case anyone’s wondering, the little girl equivalent of “Piss In A Bottle” involves the car bin. But I’ll spare you the details, mostly because I’m still trying to block them out and not return to them like a dog… to its own piss-filled car bin. Oh, and subsequent vomit, of course.

Read Full Post »

When I was 21, my family doctor asked to bring in a urine sample for my next appointment.

The morning of the appointment, I duly filled up a large vegemite jar and brought it into the surgery, where I sat, awkwardly, in the waiting room, desperately wishing I’d brought along a bag.

When my doctor was ready to see me, I quickly thrust the jar into his hands.

“Good effort, [NDM]!” he said, encouragingly. “But, actually, I only really needed *this much*.”

And he indicated with his fingers an amount of liquid that would probably get a itsy-bitsy-faerie slightly tipsy, but certainly not so drunk she wouldn’t be able to drive home.

What can I say? I always like to exceed expectations.

So too, my husband – or so it turns out. You see, he’s been feeling poorly over the Christmas break and his doctor ended up giving him a specimen jar the size of a small keg to collect his ‘stools’ for three days in a row.

Now, how he went about harvesting his own faeces, he thankfully kept entirely to himself – although he always returned from the task looking a mere shadow of his former self.

“You didn’t fill the jar, did you?” I couldn’t help but ask on the third day, after he’d delivered the samples to the pathologists.

“Oh, no, not at all,” he said. “I only did *this much*.”

And he used both hands to indicate how much.

I shuddered. I mean, I love my husband and all, but I didn’t really need to know that.

Anyway, it turns out I had other shit to deal with.

Later that day, I was at the park with The Pixie and she suddenly announced she needed to do a wee. There being no public toilets within striking distance, I was left with no option than to attempt the Bush Wee.

Now, anyone who has ever attempted the Bush Wee with a little girl knows it generally has a 3.6 degree of difficulty and the only way you can do it without getting wee on her shoes, your shoes and the shoes of anyone standing within a twenty metre radius  is by removing all her clothing and lowering her into position using a hydraulic crane winch.

Having found a bush large enough to conceal us, I took off her undies, trousers, socks and shoes and put them at a safe splash-free distance and then stood back, waiting for the deluge to hit.

But it didn’t.

Instead, the Pixie suddenly started shouting “Ouch! Ouch! OUCH!”  and then thoroughly surprised us both by letting a poo the size of a small loaf  fall to the ground.

“OH SHIT!” I exclaimed. It was one of those occasions when swearing in front of my child seemed entirely appropriate.

Anyhoo, I’ll spare you the details of the clean up, but suffice to say, they involved bottled water and (if you’ll excuse the expression) a shit load of tissues and only left me feeling  frazzled *this much*…

Read Full Post »

My children recently had green poo. Yes, green poo. It took me a day or so of scratching my head trying to work out what the hell was wrong with them before the answer finally dawned on me.  Two words: Froot Loops.

Now, if you don’t know what Froot Loops are, they are an alleged breakfast cereal. I’m of course using the words ‘alleged’, ‘breakfast’ and ‘cereal’ here in the loosest ways possible. Somehow or another, Kelloggs has managed to slip these sugary rainbow gems into the cereal aisle and not, say, have them placed where they truly belong next to the pop rocks, Minties and those other confectionery that make my teeth ache just by looking at them.

In their defence, the Froot Loops box says they contain the wholesome goodness of corn, wheat and oats. Which they well may do under those thick layers of food colouring and sugar. Apparently the food colouring is all natural but man-oh-man, there are loops in that box coloured like nothing on this earth. Nothing.

But the kids love them. God how they love them.

Now, before anyone starts adding “Her children eat Froot Loops for breakfast” on the files they are keeping for social services, hear me out. My children only ate them on a recent camping trip we went on with a whole bunch of friends. I blame my dear friend KT. It’s a tradition her kids have when camping, so I conveniently have her to blame in a court of law. Just as she has me to blame me for the contractually-specified McCrappy Meal we have to have after we’ve taken our kids to the movies together.

Of course, the adult-equivalent of having Froot Loops for breakfast while camping is drinking heavily and singing songs around a campfire. Perhaps even doing both for so long that you end up falling into your own tent, landing on one of your sleeping children and breaking one of your tent poles in the process, as someone – who shall remain nameless – did. And no, it wasn’t my husband. For once.

So what happens when these two camping traditions collide? Well, let’s just say you get this kind of scene in your tent at quarter-to-fucking-five in the morning:

CHILD: (brightly) Can I have my coloured cereal now?

MOTHER: (whispering) Go back to sleep.

CHILD: The sun is up. It’s morning times.

MOTHER: No, it is still ‘night times’. Shut. Your. Eyes.

CHILD: But I’m hungry.

MOTHER: Here. Eat this random cracker lying on the floor of the tent.

CHILD: (starting to cry) But I’m starving for coloured cereal!

MOTHER: (adopting the kind of hoarse and menacing hiss favoured by cinematic villains) There will be no coloured cereal again EVER if you don’t go back to sleep. NOW.

CHILD: (begins wailing even louder, waking everybody else in their tent and surrounding tents)

Yes, that’s what I call a ‘Result’. I mean, it’s almost as impressive as the green poo.

Read Full Post »

Let’s face it: there’s an awkward gap between bedtime and actual sleeptime.

In this household, this gap is traditionally filled by the kids listening to storybook CDs in bed, something which require no parental input – except, of course, when the CD needs changing, at which point Mr Justice will call “Finished!” and the parent in charge will call back “Coming!” and try to find the remote control to pause the DVD he or she has optimistically started watching, but for some reason Mr Justice will not quite hear the call or will grow rapidly dissatisfied with the parental response time and will roar “FINISHED!” again, forcing the parent to roar back “COMINGGGGGG!!!” and accidentally knock over a glass of wine or trip over the homicidal cat, which will delay them even further and cause all three children to chime together “FINISHED!” and make the parent burst a blood vessel when they shout back “I’M COMMMMMMIIINNNNNGGGGGG!”.

Of course, with all that shouting and carry-on, sleeptime is pushed just that little further back. Nice work, everyone.

In the middle of this year, we made the interesting decision to put the boys in separate bedroom from The Pixie so now we have two CD players to manage. Sometimes, I feel like a flippin’ DJ working two dancefloors or that I’m living in the middle of one of those Crazy Warehouse Guy ads, what with all the shouting and banging for attention.

It can be a little… annoying.

But add a few more things to the mix and it becomes interminable.

For example, add a puppy. And not just any old puppy, but a puppy who automatically cranks the dial up to 11 the minute the kids are tucked up in their beds, like she’s just been directly injected with yellow food colouring mixed with pseudoephedrine.  She just runs around from room to room, bed to bed, revving everyone up. But don’t try to put the puppy outside. Oh, no. She’ll only recreate that famous scene from The Shining where Jack Nicholson breaks down the door – except instead of an axe, she’ll just be using sheer enthusiasm.

Now add a four year old who claims to be “so scared” and insists that he needs “somebody to sleep wid him” – that “somebody” being me and not, say, the freebasing puppy.

And then take away my husband. Yes, that’s it. Put him on a plane and send him interstate. Don’t bother reminding him it was his idea to get a puppy before going away for practically two weeks. He’ll deny it. Because he can. He’s 800km away, you know.

With this heady  mix, my evening ends up like one of those children’s games where you whack one thing down with a hammer, only to have another thing pop up elsewhere – usually in the form of a figure at the doorway informing me that her contractually-agreed “fresh water” hasn’t been provided or, just as I’m creeping out of the bedroom away from the now-sleeping four year old, a puppy rushing at me with such great speed that I get winded and the four year-old leaps up and shouts “I’m awake!!” quickly followed by “And I’m scared!” when he realises I’m trying to make a getaway.

Is it little wonder that, three nights out of four this week, I’ve ended up drinking wine and watching ‘Arrested Development’ with the four year old sleeping on my lap and the puppy gnawing the side of the sofa we’re sitting on because I’m sooooo way past the point of giving a shit? I mean, if that gap between bedtime and sleeptime is going to be so interminable, it may as well be filled with cheap wine and good TV. No, really.

Read Full Post »

Mr Justice spent a good part of 2004 on the Naughty Spot. The following year, he spent as much time on the Thinking Spot, which was actually the same spot as the Naughty Spot, just with better branding.

In stark contrast, Tiddles McGee – the youngest of our three –  has never done hard time in any spot – naughty, thinking or otherwise. Most of the time when he does something deemed naughty, he just gives us a cheeky look and my husband and I say “Awwww, isn’t he cute!” and hand him a lolly.

It’s only fair then, that we recently introduced a pocket money scheme across all three kids.

Here’s the deal: each child starts the month with a predetermined amount and they lose (and gain back) money for ‘bad’ (and ‘good’) behaviour. At the end of the month, they can ‘cash in’ what’s remaining of their pocket money (= blow it all on some cheap Made In China crap at Kmart) or they can carry it over to the next month.

Here are some excerpts from their chart to give you an idea of how it plays out:

MR JUSTICE

-$2 for ripping leg off Pixie’s new doll
-$1 for pushing Pixie
-$1 for hitting Pixie
-$1 for being rude to Mummy
+$1 for chores
-$1 for ruining Pixie’s game by throwing Genghis Cat on it (NB: not for throwing Genghis Cat)
+$1 for chores
-$1 for throwing a ball at Pixie
-$1 for giving attitude for being penalised $1 for throwing a ball at Pixie
-$1 for fighting Pixie over beanbag even after Mummy told him to stop
-$1 for being rude to Mummy
-$2 for stealing and then giving Mummy attitude about it
-$1 for not doing what he’s told

TIDDLES

-$1 for getting down from table without asking
-$1 for not eating dinner
-50c for running off near busy road
+50c for chores
-50c for throwing a coat hanging at Pixie
-50c for punching Pixie in the face
-50c for running around nude instead of getting dressed like Mummy told him
-$1 for stealing daddy’s keys, drawing on Pixie’s picture and eating brown sauce with a spoon

Of course there was virtually nothing on The Pixie’s chart because she was too busy having the crap beaten out of her by her brothers to get around to doing anything naughty herself.

Anyway, the other day, I was thinking about what would happen if a similar scheme was extended to me. I suspect my chart for this week would read something like this:

THE NDM

-$1 for forgetting to give Mr Justice breakfast and then making him eat half his lunch on the way to school because we were already running late
-$2 for then giving Mr Justice money to buy a sausage roll knowing full well that Mr Justice would spend it on an icy pole
-$1 for being annoyed with Mr Justice later that day when he admitted he’d spent the money on icy poles instead of ‘proper food’
-50c for even thinking sausage rolls fall into the category of ‘proper food’
-$2 for failing to disclose the fact that she herself had eaten half a block of Cadbury’s ‘Bar Of Plenty‘ for lunch that day
-$1 for being even vaguely surprised when Mr Justice begged for money for the canteen the next day
-$2 for giving in to Mr Justice by using the hollowest words in the English language “Only this once!”, knowing full well that when combined with the money the day before this actually made it twice
+$1 for managing to give Mr Justice the money without the other children seeing it
-$2 for then sneakily eating the other half of the block of Cadbury’s ‘Bar Of Plenty’ for breakfast

That makes for a grand total of $10.50 to be deducted from my pocket money just in two days. But of course, in that period alone, I’d have earnt back about $1,000 in chores so, really, I’m not doing too bad, am I?

Read Full Post »

The main purpose of the sleepover party is to take a group of children, get them high on sugar and hysterical through lack of sleep, and then release them back into the community.

The following documents my eight year old son’s recent sleepover party using the medium of ‘Twitter’. The tweets are fictitious but the events are (mostly) real.

____________________________________________________________

Keeping son’s party simple this year. No themes. No home-made pinatas. No party games. Just a few friends for bowling, tacos & sleepover.
1:03 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

My husband just left for bowling with five 8 year olds. I don’t think either of us realised what that actually meant until he was leaving.
2:47 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Yep. I can see I’ve made the right choice for my son’s party this year. I can say this mostly because I’m not actually at it yet.
3:46 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Husband has returned from bowling a mere shadow of his former pre-bowling self. He’s headed straight for the whisky.
5:15 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Husband has prised his lips away from the whisky bottle long enough to mutter something about letting the boys drink Coke. Oh, the humanity!
5:55 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Boys having punch-ups over custody of the Wii controller. That’d be the Coke talking, husband dear.
6:16 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Just read that my friend @bolshymum is having 4 kids under 6 sleep over. I have 7 under 9. We’re having a sleepover-off. Who will win?
6:48 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Apparently @bolshymum is already onto her second vodka. I, however, am competing without the aid of alcohol due to medical reasons.
6:52 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Stupid medical reasons.
6:53 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

.@bolshymum is claiming the first to get kids to bed is winner of sleepover-off. I’m looking at it more as an endurance event.
7:25 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Still, how reasonable is it for me to expect to get the kids into bed and asleep by 7:30 considering we haven’t had cake yet?
7:26 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Here is the cake. Somewhat eerily, it also depicts how I will look tomorrow.


8:02 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Kids now watching a movie. Bedtime seems another lifetime away.
8:14 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

News in that @bolshymum’s kids are all asleep. I expect she, herself, is about to pass out drunk. Ha! What a soft cock.
8:26 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Just told my husband if we’d had a ‘normal’ party, it’d have finished 5 hours ago. It’s not nice to see a grown man weep like that.
9:38 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

At least someone is tucked up asleep in bed, even if it’s just my husband.
9:49 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Movie finally finished. Kids running around screaming. I’ve left my husband’s empty whisky bottle in charge and am hiding in the toilet.
10:01 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

If I had a video camera rather than this iPhone, this would totally be my Blair Witch moment. I’m so scared. We’re going to die…
10:04 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone
____________________________________________________________

Sorted! What a marvelous invention the sleeping bag is! I’ve zipped all the boys in. They might still be shouting but at least they can’t move.
10:48 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

What’s that noise? Oh god. It’s some one telling jokes. At 5:45am. Isn’t there something in the Geneva Convention to prevent this kind of thing?
5:45 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Husband just asked if I was awake. I pretended to be dead.
5:56 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

2.5 hours to go. I am busy putting everyone’s belongings beside the door to make myself feel better.
7:28 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

I told the parents 10AM. TEN. A. M. WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?
10:01 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Son just thanked me for the Best. Party. Ever. I guess it wasn’t so bad. Of course, I can say this now that everyone’s gone home.
11:32 AM Aug 29th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

My husband just left for bowling with five 8yo. I don’t think it struck either of us what that would mean until he actually was leaving.
2:45 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

The last thing my husband said before he left was something about letting the boys drink Coke. Oh, the humanity!
2:47 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Husband has returned from bowling a mere shadow of his former pre-bowling self. He’s headed straight for the whiskey.
5:32 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

The boys are now punching each other up over custody of the Wii controllers. That’d be the Coke talking.
6:37 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

I have made an important discovery: the easiest way to diffuse conflict between 8yo boys is to accuse someone in the room of farting.
7:56 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

My friend @bolshymum has apparently got 4 kids under 6. I’ve got 7 under 9. We’re now having a sleepover-off. Who will win?
6:55 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

How reasonable is it for me to expect to have all seven kids asleep by 7:30 since we haven’t even had cake yet?
7:25 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

That @bolshymum is onto her 2nd vodka. I can’t drink because the antibiotics I’m on will make me chuck.
6:58 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Just realised that if we’d had a ‘normal’ birthday party, it would have finished 3 hours ago. Vodka’s looking good right now, vomit and all.
7:30 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

This was the birthday cake. It is also an eerie prediction of how I will look tomorrow.

7:42 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Now @bolshymum is claiming the winner of the sleepover-off is the 1st to get kids to bed. I’m thinking of it as more of an endurance event.
7:48 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Kids now watching a movie featuring Lucius Verenus and Diver Dan as Greek Gods. Bedtime seems another life time away.
8:02 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Movie is violent AND scary. Kids will be up all night either whacking each other with sticks or freaked out of their skulls.
8:14 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

News in that @bolshymum’s kids are all asleep. Everyone here still wired on coke. My husband has slunk off to bed with the whisky.
8:46 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

One 8yo has gone home. I had a tear in my eye as he left. I wanted to go with him.
9:48 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Movie finished. Kids releasing pent-up energy by running and shouting. A lot. I’m hiding in the toilet.
10:02 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

The sleeping bag is a marvelous invention. I’ve zipped all the boys up. They might still be shouting but at least they can’t move.
10:28 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

What’s that noise? Oh god. It’s some one telling jokes. At 5:45am. Isn’t the Geneva Convention supposed to prevent this kind of thing?
5:45 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Husband just asked if I was awake. I pretended to be dead.
5:56 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

2.5 hours to go. I am busy putting everyone’s belongings beside the door to make myself feel better.
7:28 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

I told the parents 10AM. TEN. A. M. Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY?
10:01 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

All guests have gone. The shouting has stopped. Let the over-tired sobbing begin, starting with…. me.
10:35 AM Aug 29th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Daughter just asked if she could have a sleepover for 10 of her closest friends on her 6th birthday. I can’t stop shaking.
11:32 AM Aug 29th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Daughter just asked to have sleepover for her 6th birthday. I can’t stop shaking.
2:45 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

____________________________________________________________

My husband just left for bowling with five 8yo. I don’t think it struck either of us what that would mean until he actually was leaving.
2:45 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

The last thing my husband said before he left was something about letting the boys drink Coke. Oh, the humanity!
2:47 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Husband has returned from bowling a mere shadow of his former pre-bowling self. He’s headed straight for the whiskey.
5:32 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

The boys are now punching each other up over custody of the Wii controllers. That’d be the Coke talking.
6:37 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

I have made an important discovery: the easiest way to diffuse conflict between 8yo boys is to accuse someone in the room of farting.
7:56 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

My friend @bolshymum has apparently got 4 kids under 6. I’ve got 7 under 9. We’re now having a sleepover-off. Who will win?
6:55 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

How reasonable is it for me to expect to have all seven kids asleep by 7:30 since we haven’t even had cake yet?
7:25 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

That @bolshymum is onto her 2nd vodka. I can’t drink because the antibiotics I’m on will make me chuck.
6:58 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Just realised that if we’d had a ‘normal’ birthday party, it would have finished 3 hours ago. Vodka’s looking good right now, vomit and all.
7:30 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

This was the birthday cake. It is also an eerie prediction of how I will look tomorrow.

7:42 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Now @bolshymum is claiming the winner of the sleepover-off is the 1st to get kids to bed. I’m thinking of it as more of an endurance event.
7:48 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Kids now watching a movie featuring Lucius Verenus and Diver Dan as Greek Gods. Bedtime seems another life time away.
8:02 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Movie is violent AND scary. Kids will be up all night either whacking each other with sticks or freaked out of their skulls.
8:14 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

News in that @bolshymum’s kids are all asleep. Everyone here still wired on coke. My husband has slunk off to bed with the whisky.
8:46 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

One 8yo has gone home. I had a tear in my eye as he left. I wanted to go with him.
9:48 PM Aug 28th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Movie finished. Kids releasing pent-up energy by running and shouting. A lot. I’m hiding in the toilet.
10:02 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

The sleeping bag is a marvelous invention. I’ve zipped all the boys up. They might still be shouting but at least they can’t move.
10:28 PM Aug 28th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

What’s that noise? Oh god. It’s some one telling jokes. At 5:45am. Isn’t the Geneva Convention supposed to prevent this kind of thing?
5:45 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

Husband just asked if I was awake. I pretended to be dead.
5:56 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

2.5 hours to go. I am busy putting everyone’s belongings beside the door to make myself feel better.
7:28 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

I told the parents 10AM. TEN. A. M. Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY?
10:01 AM Aug 29th via Twitter for iPhone

____________________________________________________________

All guests have gone. The shouting has stopped. Let the over-tired sobbing begin, starting with….  me.
10:35 AM Aug 29th via Tweetdeck

____________________________________________________________

Daughter just asked if she could have a sleepover for 10 of her closest friends on her 6th birthday. I can’t stop shaking.
11:32 AM Aug 29th via Tweetdeck

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »