The morning after fall-out

The quite play last night was just that; Quiet, cooperative, fun play.

I had no reason to be paranoid, yet my gut was telling me to be wary. I have been mostly lucky, thus far, in relation to “the kids are quiet, they must be up to something”. It was rare that there were up to anything mischievious. Usually jsut quiet play.

One should always listen to their gut, however.

I was awoken, the third time since midnight, at 6.07am with noises from the big boys’ bedroom. Sounds of play. Not just any play, but the specific sounds of train play. The very train set-up that he had been specifically requested not to set up in that location.

That was my first lightbulb, red flag moment. Grumpykid having not have enough sleep and all that.

The second was the yelling at his younger brother, who broke into his mournful and really fucking annoying whingey cry that just pisses me off and I can’t feel even remotely sypmathetic towards his plight due to my levels of pissed offedness.

This yelling and whingy noise alerted Chippie to the fact that they were up and playing, leading him to climb out of our bed, via my face, shoving his elbow up my left nostril and his knee firmly into my twat, thunder down the hall, attempt to enter the bedroom and end up in a head-bashing, screaming mess on the floor, due to his wanting to play with trains.

And there we are, a good 23 minutes before I ideally like them to be out of bed, me barely able to open my eyes and already I’m yelling at them to shut up/behave/play nice, and, finally “right, pack the frigging trains up and this is why you were told not to set it up in your room in the first place!”


You know it’s gonna be a great day when you start it off by yelling, before the coffee machine has started working it’s magic…

Of words and wisdom

Quite frankly peeved with Monkey Boy’s smartarsey behaviour this week, particularly in relation to his school work (some of which was sent home for me to look at) I inadvertently became Bitch Mother From Hell.

It’s not my fault! They made me!

To be fair, the spelling he’d been bringing home to do, whilst age appropriate, was doable for him. Maybe not easy, but certainly not ‘challenging’ and this last lot, I actually think he using his wiles, quite appropriately. According to his good self.

For me, I kinda felt including the word “build” and then variations of was a bit sneaky. By “variations of” I mean builds, builder and builders. He’d done the same with two other words. Given the list is ten words, I’m working with “smart arse” and “not trying very hard”.

In light of discussions with teacher and various others, I took the cause into my own hands, told his teacher I felt this was inadquate and was it ok if I added a few harder words to the list.

As it turns out, we’re lying in bed at 6.37 this morning and I’m getting him to spell a few extra words, all of which included the “blend” ui (this apparently means all the words have the letters U and I in them, consecutively. Ye, I had to ask, too.)

So we – by which I mean “I” – added the word disguise, because this was apparently on the list just after build, builds, builder, builders and even building. Which made me think of “distinguish” and then “extinguish”.

Not satisfied with this, because he did them all relatively easily, I needed another that my mind could cope with in it’s pre-caffeinated and woken-before-ready state.


That’ll do it.

I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t heard it before. Fairly sure he’s been threatened with exsanguination if he didn’t do his bloody spelling homework without whinging.

He got it, too.

Lay in bed with mixed feelings; very proud and impressed he had spelt the word with little trouble, sad and envious that he could spell it without the aid of caffeine and at such an early hour.


I wish I could do that.

Heart pounding moments

Of course, the day only got better, after the toilet seat excitement, when I went to access my chocolate coated coffee beans and discovered them gone.

Flashbacks to the morning, and recall images of Chippie sitting on the hallway floor, stuffing container (Tupperware of course) of choc coffee beans in the lunchbox compartment of Godzilla’s school bag.

Memory a complete blank after that moment, until this particular one. Consider fact the school have not yet called me to discuss appropriateness of lunchbox contents a good thing.

Consider likelihood that Godzilla has eaten them all himself – high.

Consider likelihood of him having handed them around to class mates – also high.

Entertain thoughts of teachers confiscating said contraband and eating them themselves, and subsequently restrain self from enrolling children in another school.

Wander around house in vague daze before venturing up to school to retreive children and shuffle off to swimming lessons before heading off to get Chippie from day care.

That horrendous task completed, we head home and I accidentally locate coffee beans container in the kids drinkware cupboard. Along with full cup complete with sipper-style lid, which Chippie promptly helps himself to.

Unsure how long it’s been there, I almost care. The fact that I was choc coffee beanless prevented me from caring too much.

If only chocolate could fix it …

Ah, Easter Sunday, where I am up at some stupid hour starting with the figure 4, getting caught by the six year old as I’m trying excruciatingly hard not to make any noise (damn floorboards!) and attempting to hide behind a door.

Wander out into dark, as even the sun is not stupid enough to have made an appearance at such a stupid hour, only to have the sensor light, the one that only senses you if you’re a cat and not a human being attempting to hang washing out at 11.13pm or play Easter Bunny at Stupid O’Clock, chooses this moment to brighten the entire planet.

Still, I manage to perform the intricate task of hiding smallish chocolate eggs around the backyard so they’re not too easy to find, but also not too hard as to result in tantrummy meltdowns due to inadequate chocolate egg supply.

Lament the fact that this particular job is relegated to me, recall incidents of years past where Grumpy Pants took on the task and just piled them up in the middle of the decking, then lament fact that I have a congenital defect that requires I do ‘fun’ things for the kids. I.e. Easter Egg hunts.

Hide the first pack. Spread the second pack over back lawn and stumble way back to bed. Am extremely disheartened when discover six year old has wandered outside, then climbed into bed with us, cold, and my coffee machine didn’t go off as scheduled.

Eventually allow for hunting, Chippie eating an entire egg, including wrapper, pre 6.20am, poking the beanies that kept falling out back in the partially consumed egg them wiping his filthy face on the crotch of my pyjamas.

Godzilla, the sweet tooth, managed to consume approximately 8 kilo of chocoalte prior to breakfast and without anyone seeing. Considered sending in application on his behalf for role of Easter Bunny due to convincingness of his bounce and apparent endless hyperactivity.

Realise with great dismay we have guests coming over, I have neglected to purchase any Eastery type gifts for them. Nor do I have anything edible to serve them. After touring neighbourhood and web for openness of supermarkets, discover am forced to endure the exorbident prices of local “supermarket” for provisions.

Also purchase essential items for production of rocky road to package nicely and present as gifts to guests. The only Easter “eggs” they had remaining were a) rabbits and b) crap. And cost somewhere in the vicinity of $600.

Take kids with me in hope it will burn off some energy.

Clearly am an idiot.

Utilise a somehow forgotten, but very good quality chocolate, rabbit from a previous Easter in rocky road preparation, convincing self it will make it more Eastery. And that the ‘best before’ date couldn’t be seen.

Forced to stuff a third of a packet of marshmallows in mouth in the process as the kids were being somewhat overactive and obnoxious, so refused to allow them any and had to make a decent point. Also, there were that many left over that wouldn’t fit in the container, and it is a well known fact that any bits of anything that don’t fit in must be eaten.

Also couldn’t find another suitable container as it appears remainder of household incapable of putting things away where they belong.

Managed to muck up the rocky road, which I feel is a feat in itself as it already looks like mish mash and fairly hard to fuck up. Still, I managed it and blame it on early morning, lack of effective coffee machine operation in time of great need and near choking on marshmallows. That, however, did get me some minutes of peace and acceptable behaviour.

Fucked up rocky road in fridge to set so I could chop it up and wrap it beautifully in cellophane when guests arrive and hide yet more chocolate in the back yard and Chippie eats more red foil and chocolate, then attempts to dehair cat by grabbing it with choc-coated hands and comes up resembling a miniature yeti, having literally dehaired the cat and successfully sticking fur to self.

Guests depart, I unsuccessfully rummage in fridge to find wine and discover fucked up rocky road.

And goodnight to all …

After that tiring day, kids all in bed, craziness abated for the moment … but worse was to come.

There I was, tidying up and putting a few things away when Grumpy informs me he has to work tomorrow morning.

That is, at the time he usually takes Chippie to swimming lessons, and allows me a few hours of quite time in which to get some work done.

This means, I will be required to perform Toddler Swimming Lesson Duty.

For those oblivious to this situation, it means I will be required to don my bathers and get into the pool with said toddler.

My legs haven’t seen daylight, or a wax, for some time now. Long enough for them to be considered horrendous on both counts.

Whilst mildly seething and getting my head around the situation – because things are as they are and it’s no one’s fault and just because it pisses me off at the moment doesn’t mean I can’t deal with it – my three month old coffee plunger decides to take this moment to conduct a perfect suicidal plunge from the shelf above my head, collecting itself on the bench and shattering all over the floor.

(I almost followed)

Perhaps in anticpiation of … or in repsonse to it’s current workload.



Cup Day .. and we have planned the day, a family trip to the beach for fish and chips.

Of course, it doens’t start well … my newish coffee machine, designed for idiots and sleep deprived mothers, whereby it beeps annoyingly and refuses to work when some element of it hasn’t been inserted properly is not as idiot or sleep deprived mother-proof as I’d like.

I get up to the delicious smell of coffee, which is emanating from a largish puddle on the bench in front of the coffee machine and a much larger puddle on the floor.

Which happens when you don’t put the pot in the machine, and the machine not only neglects to tell you that the pot isn’t there by beeping incessantly and annoyingly, but also continues to function despite being potless.

Thankfully, new stainless steel kettle, courtesy of 10th wedding anniversary yesterday, prevents me from kneeling on the floor and licking the coffee up.

It was desperate times.

Of course, the toaster I purchased was chrome, not stainless, so am required to return it to exchange for matching appliance. And today is public holiday, thus stores are closed. Am forced to sip freshly made plunger coffee (a poor second cousin to my machine, but necessarily for the persistent survival of my family members) and observe bread toasting in non matching toaster.

Meanwhile, Chippie is having a tanty because no one will let him eat the LEGO, so he placates himself by emptying they recycle bin into a pile in the middle of my office floor, along with the contents of the “sentimental items” box.

New ‘do is not so much “whispy” as, say, “messy”, but not in a Hugh Granty, perfectly styled way. More along lines of “mum with no time or concept” kind of way.

Then we leave for our day trip, forced to stop the ensuing game of I Spy after round one (Godzilla choosing “T” which is always, tree. Even when it’s not “T”), when Monkey Boy chooses “E”, Godzilla comes up elephant, allegedly seen up the tree from the previous spying and an argument develops.

At which point, am so traumatised by the mornings events that I fall asleep.

Some hours later, we miss participating in the Cup in any manner and head home.

Children are more intuitive than we give them credit for

Sunday morning and I’m completley out of coffee beans.

Managed to scrape together a plunger coffee this morning – not ideal, but better than nothing.

I had to break the bad news to the kids. “Kids? We have to go for a walk this morning. To the coffee shop to buy some more beans.””

I really have no idea why I bothered to continue past walk as as soon as I said the word, the “I don’t want to walk, I hate walking blah blah blah” started up.

Thus the need to explain things clearly and succinctly.

“Mummy has no coffee beans left. If Mummy gets up tomorrow morning and has no coffee, and has to function  while she is decaffienated, what do you think will happen? You know what will happen don’t  you?

“Ummmm,” Monkey Boy replied politely. Only because he knows what will happen  and is too scared to say it out loud for fear it may come true.

“Yes, that’s right,” I continue. “Mummy will go off her nut tomorrow morning and it won’t be fun for anyone, will it?”

He concedes. And repeats it back to me, to be sure we are all clear on what will occur.

“So, you’ll be decaffietated?”

I determine that his is a condition inflicted upon families across Australian (and quite possibly the world) when Mummy wakes up to a house with no coffee – she loses her head at the lack of caffiene.

Oh the joys

Some fun things about my day:

There’s not much more fun than waking up by a baby with a face full of snot.

Baby snot will find its way onto your pants, shirt and breakfast toast.

Overtired babies find standing in their cot and screaming for hours on end much more relaxing than actually lying down and going to sleep!

I finally got to sit down and do some work. And then remembered I had other children to go and collect from school. Whoops.

Off to gymnastics where we get to sit for an hour and a half in a freezing factory whilst watching a bunch of uncoordinated boys swing, tumble and hang. Not so uncoordinated that they’ll give us some entertainment value; like falling off stuff at high speed.

Chippie has decided to become a Clingon. Unsure if I need Dr Spock or Mr Spock. Preferably the one with the vapouriser.

Had a snot filled bath. Fun, fun, fun.

Made everyone go to bed early, because am evil, horrible worst mother in the world.

Like I care!

Do you think they’d notice?

Still exhausted, flat and just … weird feeling.

I have a conference I’m looking forward to. Or was until earlier this week. Not the conferences fault.

The coffee machine sounds like its gone off, though. Wonder if I managed to put all the pieces together properly; you know water to coffee bean ratio, close all compartments and select the program button …

Wonder if I can have my coffee, tell the hubby and kids I’m going to the conference and go have some quiet time somewhere. Somewhere where I can have a sleep and they bring coffee and wine without me having to ask?

A tragedy indeed!

The decision made and the new computer ordered, today was the day my box had to go in to have it’s files moved over to the new PC, and have a good looking at, scan and other techno stuff done to it.

A sad day indeed. Fortunately, only a day that I’d be without my computer. Surely I could survive. I could do that filing that’s been sitting there for … oh, quite some time now. What’s left of it, anyway, after Chippie got to it and ate some.

(I knew I had kids for a reason).

I took the box down, and left, mildly more distressed when I went in, as the new computer will be a day longer than anticipated. The something something wasn’t there and needed to be followed up. They handed over a valium and offered several words of encouragement and sent me off again, with a promise of a phone call as soon as it was ready to pick up.

I retreived the children from school – walking home in the icy cold, as it was far less painful than having no computer and having to do the filing.

As an aside, its amazing what you can find to do when all you are left with to do is the filing …

The children go about their after school duties of whinging, whining and doing everything but unpack their bags, feed cats, and put their shoes somewhere, anywhere but in the frigging doorway. The tragedy struck.

Godzilla, performing his unstacking dishwasher task, without whinging, whining, misbehaving or otherwise procrastinating, breaks my coffee pot! Totally accidentally.

His distraught look as he informed me prevented me from going into a rage, or falling on the floor and sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry, Mummy. I didn’t mean it. It just broke.”

And that it did ….