Poo. Fart. Chips. for me.

I'm baaa-aaack!

Yep, it's been ten and a half weeks since my last posting (how Catholic-sounding of me), but I'm gonna try REALLY hard this time to keep a regular commitment.

REALLY.

Ok, so life's been very full over the last few months. Nothing new in that. Well, apart from my brother's wedding interstate, at which ALL THREE of my kids were in the bridal party, and I was MC! Eeek! No pressure! It was a wonderful time though, the kids rose to the occasion and we all had fun catching up with LOTS of family, old and new. Thanks Unca J and welcome to the family Aunty C!



Then there was our holiday to The Snow. That was hard work, but fun. Kind of. Might have been more fun if we hadn't arrived in the middle of a blizzard, but hey, now we can look back and laugh. Golly, it was cold. Beach next time.





What else? Oh yeah, the usual flurry of school routine and activity - the massive annual School Fair, school projects, after-school sport, playdates, therapy appointments, toddler gym, International Talk-Like-a-Pirate Day, oh, and work. And lots of other stuff in between.

And then there was that horrible week when my Darling Hubby was rushed to hospital with a sudden and life-threatening problem that was finally resolved by surgery after he lay in extreme agony for three days, before developing a secondary problem which was also very serious before he finally got better enough to come home. Thank goodness that week is behind us.

So, during all this I've been playing with my new toy - an iPhone. MY iPhone. I'd been interested in getting one so Princess could have something to access and play with. The touchscreen really is quite fab, and Princess does have some fun with it. I'm scouring for applications all the time that are useful for her and the boys. It's so easy!

What caught me by surprise is how much fun I'm having with it! It's great! Not so much as a mobile phone, but as a hand-held touchscreen computer it's beaut.

Little Man likes to borrow MY iPhone to play games on every now and then. Sometimes he gives it back to me with a maniacal laugh, and it took me a while to work out why. I recently opened the 'shopping list' application (daggy but handy) - you may have already guessed, this post's title is what I read on my shopping list...
Poo.
Fart.
Chips. for me.

Ahh, eight-year-olds...don't you just love 'em?! Can't wait to discover what else lurks in there.

The I've Been Corrected Blues

Driving with the whole family in the car, listening to Jazztrack, a favourite program of ours on ABC FM radio. A bluesy number came on and I decided to take the opportunity to educate the kids as to the sound and form of The Blues. Chuckles, the two year old, interrupted me.

"No Mum" he said, removing his dummy from his mouth and adopting a posture of authority. "Dis NOT boooos. Dis JAZZ."

And with more coolness than Miles Davis himself, Chuckles popped his dummy back in his mouth and continued staring out the window as if he hadn't spoken at all.

I wish I had even a little of that confidence.

EDITED TO ADD: This morning Darling Husband remarked upon some clever little thing Chuckles had done. "You're a cool dude!" he said. Chuckles hit back with "No, I'm AWESOME!".

Hmph.

Confidence.

He is pretty awesome though : )

All's well that ends...

I have previously alluded to the fact that Little Man wasn't an entirely happy camper when he started the new year at school. He's in a different class to most of his friends, he's suspicious of his teacher's motives and worst of all, suddenly everyone at his school knows his little sister and he's "just a nobody". Ouch. Life just is not fair.

So, after his first week at school, and a weekend jam-packed with fun, Little Man succumbed to Sunday night-itis, and gee whiz, he's only seven. Sigh. He announced he didn't want to go to school anymore. The next logical step was to pack his bags and run away. This was at dinner time on a Sunday night - I asked if he wanted to eat before he left, and he told me no, he'd get something on the road. Oh, okay, if you're sure then.

We watched him go, laden down with his gear. We had hesitatingly kissed him goodbye, then spied through the front windows, hoping against hope this was going to play out in our favour.

It did. He got as far as the end of our driveway (about 20 metres from the front door) and stood there watching the sunset for a few minutes, no doubt contemplating the un-fairness of life. Then he shrugged to no-one in particular, trudged back across the front yard, rang the doorbell and greeted us with a huge sheepish smile. Well, maybe he might have dinner with us after all, and leave tomorrow when it was lighter. Good idea, Little Man, we all agreed. It's good to have you home. (Of course, by next morning, the whole thing was forgotten, and it turns out he had a great time at school. Phew!).

I'm pleased to say that the kid knows how to pack well - every contingency covered - clothes for all kinds of weather, spare undies and socks, a torch, a book (on science experiments - go figure), sunscreen and a hat, even a pen and paper to write home!

On that note (no pun intended!), Princess had been getting increasingly upset as Little Man had begun packing. She was in awe that he was attempting such a feat, but getting chin wobbles at the thought of him going too. Until, that is, he told her not to worry about him - he would write a letter to her every day, maybe even twice a day! "Really?" She was getting excited. "Well, off you go then! Don't forget to write!" She was yelling with excitement now. "Mummy, Little Man's running away from home and he's going to write me a letter every day! I'm going to get lots of letters!" (This actually comes out as "wots of wetters'. Very cute). She simply could not contain her excitement. Not exactly the support I was hoping for.

Lucky for us, Little Man's internal compass still points to home, no matter what.

And (completely unrelated) he makes a dapper Qui-Gon Jinn, I reckon. The ensemble below was put together for a 'space' themed costume day at Joey Scouts. Every child there turned up in a Star Wars themed costume. The Force is strong indeed.

Bring It On

Funny thing.

There we were, driving to a friend's New Year's Eve party, our three kids in the back seat, Darling Hubby at the wheel, and me texting felicitous messages from my mobile phone. I commented how quiet it seemed - we were the only car on a usually quite busy road. Suddenly, Darling Hubby slows the car.

And here's the funny bit. A sleek, JET BLACK CAT had decided to step out on the road right in front of us, slowly amble all the way across with its head held high and tail in the air, and having safely made it all the way across our bit of road, disappeared into the night.

Darling Hubby and I looked at each other. Not known for his optimism, DH stated "That's our year ahead, then."

Now, I don't consider myself a superstitious person in general (though I have been known to knock on wood on many occasions).

But I've decided I'm going to accept this Black Cat Crossing Our Path as gesture of goodwill. It's good luck. We didn't run it over, so that's got to be good. It looked happy enough, not sinister or ill-willed, and I've seen some terribly-mooded cats in my time. And in fact, this cat seemed to be so deliberately flaunting its black-cattedness as it crossed our path, I think it was actually saying to us, "Notice me, because I am a portent of all things good to happen for you on this eve of 2009 - a propitious future is coming your way".

And anyway, the next morning we were swimming in my mother's pool when the children noticed four butterflies dancing around us in the bright morning light. Princess rightly pointed out that having butterflies dancing around you is such very good luck, and would make any bad luck caused by any black cat go away. And Chuckles shrewdly followed up this sentiment with "Butterflies eat black cats" (well, it was more "buffwies eat bwack cat", but you get my drift).

So I'm looking forward to 2009.

2008 was a very challenging year for us. And I'm sure 2009 will be no less challenging. But I'm ready to face it with a spring in my step. That black cat didn't appear for nothing.

Not that I'm superstitious.

And I wish you all a propitious new year too.

What those Romans needed

Okay, I know what I said, but promises are meant to be broken - or something like that. This is too good to keep to myself...

Still on the subject of Baby Jesus, myself, Little Man and Princess were having dinner, and once again discussing the concept of Christmas Day. Little Man went on to ask about how Jesus died - "Wasn't he killed? Who killed Jesus, Mum?"
"Well, it was the Romans" I replied.
"How did they do it again?' he asked. Princess pipes up, "And wasn't there a cross?", so I went on to give a very brief summary of crucifixion, to which Little Man commented "It's like torture, it must have been horrible", and happily skipped away.
I began to clear dinner. Princess was thinking.
After a minute or two, she said "Do you know what those Romans needed, Mummy?"
"No, what darling?"
"A good smack on the bum!"

Indeed.

All time favourite

While I'm on the subject of cute things my kids have said (I promise this will be the last one for a while), I may as well tell you my all time favourite, to date...

It was the day after I had given birth to wee Chuckles, and the whole newly expanded family was quite ceremoniously, if somewhat chaotically, leaving the hospital. The large glass doors at the front of the main building glided open for us to make our exit into a glorious blue sky day.

Little Man, then aged 5, enthusiastically grabbed at my arm, rendering Chuckles at more or less his eye level, and with a flourish of his arm and all the worldly experience a five year old can muster exclaimed "Look Chuckles! This is the world!"

I still tear up at it, even now.

Xmas Cheer

Naturally, Christmas is always cause for excitement in our household. The anticipation and festivity is consumed with gusto by my three kids.

We’ll be talking about shopping or fruit cakes or some such thing, and Princess pipes up with “Speaking of Christmas, let’s sing Jingle Bells” (or Rudolph, or Drummer Boy, etc).

In the lead-up to last Christmas we had a bit of a chuckle. Princess was going through the phase where she loved babies and anything to do with them. Was completely fascinated by the story of Baby Jesus, asking things like “Why did Baby Jesus have to be born in a stable?” or "Did Baby Jesus get cold?".

During one of these Q&A sessions, Little Man, hungry for a snack, was complaining for something to eat. I opened the fridge door and noticed a packet of Babybel cheeses.

“Darling why don’t you have one of your baby cheeses?”

There was a cheeky chortle from Princess.

“What are you laughing at, Miss?”

Princess, grinning wickedly, replied “Baby Cheesus!”.

What a giggle.

Someone call the Cute Police

I have already mentioned that our little Chuckles is a particularly cute kid.

I don't think I've mentioned his obsession with trains, more particularly the trains from "Thomas the Tank Engine". Chuckles already has quite a collection of the little wooden ones, and he plays with them and only them, it seems. He refuses to call Thomas Thomas, insisting on calling him "Twain" instead. Lately, Chuckles has been taking his little Gordon the No.4 Engine and James the Red Engine everywhere with him - won't be seen without them!

He and I were dropping Princess off at kindy, saying our goodbyes to her as usual, when Chuckles suddenly burst out "Byyeee! I love you! And Twain and Gordon and James...(his voice petered out a little here)...and Mummy."

At least I got a mention.