Shameless Attempt to Win Very Cool Giveaway

I know, I know....using my blog to let someone advertise so I have a chance to win an iPad Mini.

Selling out to commercialism?

You bet.

Sacrificing Pride and Integrity just so I spend a little less on gadgets for the Gadget Needy family?

Right on.

Doing everything I swore at 21 I'd never do?

Guilty as charged.

Also, I sooooo don't care.  See that's one of the perks of growing up I guess, change and evolution.  Yes, I can make some changes and compromise and realize that I'm not selling ownership of my soul, at least not outright. I have a voice here on my little blog and a few people listen. 

So here goes.
http://www.theimum.com/

http://www.theimum.com/2012/11/the-imums-give-away-12-ipad-minis-in-mini-madness-campaign/

Here is a link to their giveaway of Ipad minis.  The counselor at my kids school had this website on a list of places to check out information about kids and IT.  Tessi's recent diagnosis of Dyslexia has opened up another tunnel for us to find the light at the end of - so I have been in need of information on help to get for her.  TheImum.com is for parents looking for information on tech, gadgets,apps, anything of that ilk and how it can be useful for kids.  Only when these gals write about it they speak normal parent language, not hard-core geek.  Very helpful to use mere mortals who play on computers but don't give a flying rats tush how to program them.

Because they have kids and they know that kids are expensive they have partnered up with many, many sponsers and are offering the Giveaway.  So please, check them out.  If you have kids and they like technology that's further advanced than the pencil and the abacus (I'm not being disrespectful, they are both fine objects) then you need this site to help you figure out what's going on.

Enjoy!

Decisions, Decisions

  I took the girls to a dentist appointment after school. There I learned that I had rescheduled the appointment and we were 9 weeks early. Obviously I felt thrilled about this and drove home in a foul mood. Getting all 3 situated at the table to do their homework, I threatened all with slow painful extremity extractions if anyone ate Halloween candy, fought, cried or whinned while I went upstairs to take a shower to soak my head.  Sometimes all I have left is to wash anyway the anger, annoyance and general pissiness I feel when I stuff up my job. I've had quite a few stuff ups recently and while the co-owner swears he is not looking to restructure the organization, no matter how much I plead, I've been feeling really down lately and needed to quickly alter my mood.

While in the shower I opened the window so I could listen outside to downstairs for indications of anarchy and chaos. Some quite mutterings of "Kill you while you sleep" and "I'll tell everyone at school who you're in love with" floated up to my ears. This is a good thing. As anyone with a kid old enough to crawl will tell you, silence is never to be greeted cheerfully. Silence means they are actively trying to keep quiet so they can cover somethg bad up.  You drop and run when its quiet. The other end of the spectrum is total blood letting and keening, that's not good either.  It's painful on the ears, a bugger to clean up and the neighbors can get peckish.

This playful preamble to war is exactly what I need to hear to know that I still have 10 minutes until First Blood is drawn; plenty of time to do a hair treatment!

When the shower ended I was reminded again of the power of Mother Nature though.  I turned off the water and reached down and picked up my towel. I am not legally blind but I'm close. My vision is 20/400. Well in the US it is, I have no idea what the measurements are in Australia- damn metric system. Hold your hand up in front of your face and pull back about 6 inches (Aussies, use the many free conversion apps available to see what that is in centimeters) at about 6 inches things get fuzzy and beyond that its all blurry shapes. 

However I can see well enough in my light-colored tile bathroom when a black, fuzzy shape the size of a sausage roll goes scurrying across the floor and out the door into my bedroom.

I find that in situations like this while screaming doesn't help per say, it can be cathartic. If nothing else I exercised my lungs fairly nicely. When I stopped screaming and the sobbing subsided a bit I was able to crawl out of the tub and find my glasses and put them on. Ironically the cat chose that time to saunter in and demand supper. He and I seemed to have a failure to communicate as my stuttering, hiccuping, sign language gestures pointing him to my room didn't convey the proper message.  He took it to mean,"Crazy broad isn't pouring the kibble now, I should probably groom something" Ever eager to please, Monty began beautifying himself.  My hero.

I moved a few things around and made a half-assed attempt to find the creature...lizard, mouse, rat, land shark, whatever the Hell it is.  I couldn't see it. So as the only responsible adult in the house I did the only socially acceptable thing.

I went downstairs, found Teddy and made him go look for it. Sure some of you do-gooders might balk at me sending in a kid to collect something that scares the Hell outta me. You might even be a bit judge mental and say that I should handle it on my own, like an adult.

Whatever.

I sent my first born up the stairs and turned my back on the whole mess. I give him credit, he didn't flinch. Of course by this time he'd have walked across broken glass surrounded by all the Year 6 girls screaming One Direction songs in order to get away from his sisters. Yes, I took advantage of that. Judge all you want. I'll sleep just fine. Or at least I would have if another, fundamentally more problematic.

He didn't find anything. No creature at all. This creates a real difficult situation for me.

My dilemma isn't that he couldn't find it.  I can just sleep on the couch tonight until I'm sure the little bugger is gone, no problem.  No, my problem is figuring out whether or not to tell the girls about my intruder.  If I do, Connor will become hysterical and will be terrified that whatever is up there will get her.  She will fixate on the creature not being located.We are looking at least 3 or 4 nights straight of her waking up sobbing, which will slowly dissapate over the next few weeks. No one is going to be sleeping well for a very long time.

On the other hand...she will never set foot in my room again and my 6 am "Just wanted to say hi to the cat" wake up calls will stop. I will be able to take a shower without one of them barging in to see what I'm doing that's taking so long. I can go into hiding on the weekends with my iPad and not be interrupted every 30 minutes with," I miss you Mommy, I haven't seen you in weeks," My bedroom will become my own sacred DMZ.

As God as my witness I don't know what to do.

Thanking God for a Twit This Morning

I think I'm becoming too frazzled to function.  Ever since children started arriving I've learned to live with a certain amount of chaos and anarchy.  There is no completely peaceful moment in your life once the short people make their appearance.  However, there are limits and you reach a point that you have to stop yourself, slap your self upside the hide and reign it all in.  That moment just hit me.  Like a ton of LEGOS and Littlest Pet Shop in the face.

Saturday morning cricket.  Ahhhhh, 3 hours of watching an activity I can't bring myself to call a sport.  I know there are people booing and hissing at me right now; that's OK.  You people live in your little world of long white pants in the summer, not running when you hit the ball and taking 2 weeks to play a single game. I'm comfortable in my skin of of liking sports where you're expected to hit people.  Since my daughters are doing Little Athletic's on Saturdays as well Ted and I are dividing and conquering.  He takes them to Little A's and I take Teddy to cricket.  Last night I checked the schedule as I knew the game was in Wahroonga, but I didn't know when or which oval in Wahroonga.  There are lots.  Trust me. Cricket is huge in this country

Because Teddy has been playing with the same boys for 4 years and the same parents volunteer to do things every year (GOD BLESS THEM!!) I just did a quick search for the team managers name in Gmail and found the Google Docs link for the schedule.  I scanned down the list for the name Wahroonga, found it and learned it was on Cliff Avenue at 8 am.  Bugger, that's early.  Oh well, such is life.  Suck it up Cupcake.

7:30 am this morning we are off.  I'm deliberately trying to be a little late so I don't get asked to score.  Yes, that's juvenile.  I understand that.  I am ashamed of myself.  I am a bad person.  Mea Culpa.  10 minutes into the ride I ask Teddy if he has his hat.  Now, this is not just to complete the uniform.  He will be out in the open field for over 3 hours and has 1 tiny speck of Melanin in his entire body.  He will fry.  Of course, since Teddy has had his kit bag packed and in the boot (trunk) for days he looks at me dead pan with disgust...then remembers that he doesn't have it.

TWIT!!  Grrrr. Now I have to turn back and we're REALLY going to be late.  Sheesh!  I hand him the phone and have him type out a text to the manager saying that he's forgotten the hat and we'll be late.  A few minutes later we get the response, "No worries!  Game isn't until 9"

What?  9am?  What's he talking about?  I checked the sheet, it said 8.  This doesn't make sense but I do start to curtail my mocking of Teddy about forgetting the hat.

We return home and I run to the computer.  I log in and open my gmail account and search for his name.  That's when I notice that 2 email addresses pop up for him.  I had clicked on the first one.  When I open that Google Document that's when I see my mistake.

This is a schedule from LAST SEASON.  The damn date isn't even right. I just looked for the city name and nothing else.  Biting my tongue I back out and look at the other email address. Yes, there are more emails with schedules and yes, here is one from this season. I scan for Wahroonga AND today's date.  Of course I'm sure you've guessed it.  The game isn't on Cliff Ave, it's on Yanilla Avenue.  On the complete opposite side of Wahroonga.  I would have been an hour early and then had to spend that time driving around trying to find the correct oval.  Since we all know how WONDERFUL Apple Maps is right now I'm sure I would have been directed to Melbourne.

The worst part is that Teddy knows.  He knows we dodged a bullet and the dodge came from him forgetting his hat.  He's walking around preening like he's discovered Unobtainium or something. This boy is his father's son.  He will never forget this and never forget that I was wrong.  There will be no living with him now.  And dammit, he is right.  He did save us.  And now, I have to come up with a new reason to be late so I'm not asked to score.  Too much effort this early in the morning.

Surviving the Gift of Nature

  My children never miss an opportunity to surprise the Hell out of me. A lot of times it's on purpose but sometimes I think its just because they can't imagine that I wouldn't agree that what they were doing was awesome too. Take my youngest Tessi, for example. She constantly shocks me but rarely does she understand why.

It's the first really hot day of the year for us and trudging to school pickup I'm sweltering. I hate the heat. Always have, always will. The bell rings and I start eyeballing the swarm to pick out my minions so we can head back to the a/c in the car. Teddy rolls up, having lost his wallet with his train pass, so he's forced to endure a tortuously uncool ride home. Poor kid, I bleed for him. I spot Connor taking her sweet time and meandering. She can make a 20 second walk take 3 minutes. Then Miss Tessi arrives with a huge sweet smile. Stupid me starts to think the smile is for me but I come to my senses when I notice she's carrying a small plastic container with grass in it.

I am suddenly ice cold. "What's that Tess?" I ask with rising bile in my throat. Miss Thing's smile grows. "It's Ben's pet! It's a BABY and he wants me to watch it until Friday for him." I lean over and it's a damn snail. Doing the math quickly I realize we're supposed to keep this damn creature for 3 nights.  Oh Hell no.   Everyone who has ever spent 5 minutes with me knows that I don't like creatures from the great outdoors. EVERYONE. Everyone except my 7 year old daughter apparently.

Looking around the playground I ask where Ben is. He's left already.  Of course he has, I expect nothing less at this point. Connor has walked up now and is noticing the snail. This is more of an event than you might think.  Connor hates 90% of all living creatures, liking only humans, cats, dogs and the occasional cow or bunny. Snails are NOT on her favorite list. I begin herding my crew to the car and my "friend" says, "Yea, good luck with that snail" I'm not repeating what I mouthed at her. The other bizarre part about this situation is that Tessi hates Ben right now.  He has been driving her crazy for months. He chases her and stalks her in the playground. However since he's given her a baby and a sob story about its mother dying ( Really? The snail's mother died? What crap) and Bob's Your Uncle...Tessi thinks he's wonderful again. Christ, she's way too young to be suckered in by a cheap pick up lies from a cute boy. 

 I mention to Tessi that in the future the correct response to someone offering her a pet is,"Why thank you, I'd love to but my mother will beat me bloody raw if I do." Other kids hear me say this as I walk by and a couple looked a bit fearful.  Oh, if only my kids were fearful of me. Wouldn't my life be so much easier.

We enjoy a 17 minute car ride home together. In this case I would use a very loose definition of the word enjoy.  It was entertaining for someone, I'm sure. Shelly, our new snail friend (my suggestion of calling it escargot went ignored) began to make a break for it. Tessi thought it was hilarious to watch the snail cling up the side up and out onto her hand. Connor found it decidedly less hilarious. I'm proud of her, however. She only screamed for half the ride home. That's an improvement for her. Then of course Tessi got mad and accused Connor of being mean to her snail and not respecting her little life.  I started to wonder if I speed up and drive the car into the big water tower on Galston road if I could drown out the noise. I decided against it as I'm sure their voices are shrill enough to pierce the afterlife.

Getting into the house I head for the kitchen and find saran wrap. I cover up the container and trap Shelly. I then take a fork and poke a thousand holes in the top so the disgusting thing can breathe. Tomorrow morning it's going right back to school and straight back to her daddy Ben's loving arms. Tessi is now starting to notice that perhaps I'm not delirious with joy at the arrival our new guest. She starts promising to never bring another insect into the house. After explaining that Shelly isn't an insect and that there is a ton of creatures, not just insects, that she's not allowed to bring home I have to comfort her because she's sad. Sad that no one likes the snail, sad that I'm not happy, sad that Connor is mean to snails and hates Nature and sad for...I don't know what else, I stopped listening as my ears were starting to bleed. I soothed her, told her everything would be ok and then we make sure Shelly has some water in her prison. 

I myself am skipping the water and have gone straight to champers. That way any more surprises will have an extra layer to penetrate before reaching my brain.

I Want to Buy This House!

This house is quite possibly my favorite house ever.

http://www.domain.com.au/Property/For-Sale/House/NSW/Normanhurst/?adid=2010025188

I would buy it tomorrow if I could.  Sadly since Australia refuses to acknowledge Ted's US military service and give us thousands of dollars towards the purchase we are out of luck.  But I can dream.  I have been in this house many times, as it belongs to a friend of mine.  It has just about everything I want in a home except for a live-in maid...well one besides me.

The great room and kitchen is hands down the best set-up I've seen for us "normal" people.  Meaning if you do not have Russell Crowe wealth and live outside of the Eastern Suburbs and you can't design your house...this already wins.  It's huge.  Giagantic and open and easy to cook, watch the kids, entertain guests and just live.  So many houses today are designed solely to save money.  The great box house is popping up all over Sydney, just like in Texas.  While they are big, the design doesn't fit how most people live.  Not this house.  It just works.  Then it opens up to a great big yard with room to run.  The garden's perimeter is stocked full of lovely, well grown trees and bushes.  Mow and the ocassional trim, that's it.  It's all done for you.

The front of the house is one of my favorite parts.  It still has the old world look and it is the exact opposite of the box.  Each room is slightly different from each other, giving the sense of individual space.  I love walking through the rooms.

The laundry room is HUGE!!!! Designed for people who actually do laundry.  The cabinets are all in the right places and the counter space is perfect for handling tremendous amounts of laundry quickly.  I'm always so jealous of it when I go over.

Of course, any real estate agent will tell you that the true hallmark of real estate is Location, Location and Location.  This house has it.  Nestled in the corner of one of the best sections of Normanhurst.  Not because of supreme wealth, but because of the people.  Got kids?  Your kids will find friends immediately and be able to walk to school and you to the train. It's ideal. It's close to everything!  Shops, train, schools.  Grrrr, I'm getting more annoyed as I type.  I want this place!!!

I'm jealous of anyone who gets to buy this house.  They are getting a ready-to-go home.  Just move you're furniture and kids toys and you're done.  Someone is going to snatch this baby up and I will be be green with envy.  I wish it was me!

Back Again at School

Today begins Term 4 in NSW and for our Normanhurst Public School. It's the last term of the school year and my son's last term in primary school. After all the negatively, cruelness and attempts at intimidating of last term I'm hoping that this new one can be a fresh start.

Our little school has so many wonderful things going for it. It has a real sense of community to it and in my 5 years here I've always felt that the parents really do care about all the kids and the teachers. As far as the teachers go, Normanhurst has some of the best I've encountered on two continents. I hope they know how appreciated and wanted they are for our kids. I've always been proud to say that my kids(and my money) go to Normo!

So lets hope that this term we can move on from the past. No more Mommy Mafia. No more I'm a better parent than you. No more mean-spirited anonymous txt messages and certainly no more I'm more important than you attitudes. As adults we all have learned that we don't have to like each other in order to behave civilally to each other. Isn't that a lessen we have all been trying to teach our kids? It's one I believe in strongly. Let's make pick up and drop off areas a Neutral Zone (my little geek reference) - a safe harbor for all parents to feel welcome to greet their children; not just the "good" ones.

Welcome back to school kids. It's a great place we have here. 

Geeking Out at EB Games Expo

 I think I have cemented my role as GEEK amongst my friends. Today I will spend close to 13 hours at the first EB Games Expo in Sydney. Teddy and I heard about this expo 2 months ago and we both have been wigging out about it. I'm not a gamer, that's for sure but the idea of being in computer friendly type convention culture with no My Little Pony (yes, I'm still a little bitter about that) had me in a tizzy.  I would KILL to go to The San Diego Comic Con but the logistics are a bit iffy. So this gamer coulter here in Sydney will just have to soothe my geek needs until I hit the the lottery and can hit California or more of the geek/sci fi/ weirdo culture jumps the pond and comes over here.  Teddy just wanted to play HALO 4.  So now we're both happy.

He's brought a mate with him (don't I sound native!) and we have been juggling the "Crap! I don't want to be here with my mother" and the "Crap! I need my mom!" mindset all day. On one hand, dear Lord, no one wants to be here with their mother, but on the other hand I did stand in line for almost 3 hours to give them a chance to play the new Assassin's Creed game. I did get bonus points for that.

Many of my close friends are re-reading that last paragraph and blinking very hard. After all, I am the PIA mom who has steadfastly refused to allow Teddy to purchase the "cool" games like Call of Duty, Modern Warfare, Medal of Honor and yes, Assassin's Creed. I've been ruining his life and destroying his only hopes at happiness for at least 3 years now over these games, why the sudden change of heart?  It's not actually a change of heart as much as its a temporary suspension of the rules. He's not getting the game but I did wait 3 hours in line so he could play it for 10 minutes. I did this because a few months ago he tried to snow me with a rather brilliant plan to try get me to like the new game.

See Assassin's Creed 3 is set in the American Revolutionary War and the main character is killing all the English soldiers. Teddy casually mentioned to me that he was a bit concerned that he wasn't learning enough about American History one day and lamented how sad that must make Dad and I-considering our love of US History. He then mentioned this new game coming out was set in the American Revolutionary War and how it showed all the battles and used the correct generals names. When he told me the title I just raised one eyebrow at him. This is when the con really started - He told me that he was offended that I would assume that he was asking for the game. After all, he knows the rules about THOSE games. See he just wanted to have a conversation about history with me.

It was fantastic. He blathered on and on for about 20 minutes about the merits of this game. You know, the EDUCATIONAL merits of it. Then he walked away. Let it go completely. Just left me thinking about how my poor son isn't learning about the history of his homeland. And his father has a masters degree in American Colonial History nonetheless.  It was brilliant. Really, I give it two thumbs up. It might have worked too if I was the  complete schmuck he thinks I am and I did NOT go look up reviews about the game on You Tube. First scene had the assassin guy slit the throat of the English soldier. Niiiccceeeeee.

So I waited until the next day and when he wasn't paying attention I mentioned how I looked up the game on You Tube. He stopped dead and without even looking at me he said, "You Tube?"  "Yes" I said, "I looked up the EDUCATIONAL game you mentioned to me" Pause.pause.pause. "We'll, I never actually thought I'd get the game" he coyly mentioned to me. "That's ok Babe," I purred back at him, "that was a really good try. I'm really impressed how you used guilt and played on our worries about your education to try and get your way, it was impressive" "Yeah, we'll, you gotta try sometimes," he said a little dejectedly and wondered off. 

True dat.  Sometimes you gotta try. Most normal mothers would have been really angry about him trying to pull a fast one like that and yea, normally I would have been chapped. This is one of the joys of parenting though: you get to pick and chose when you're a hypocrite. I really was impressed by the thought, planning and effort that he went to in order to try and win. Maybe I can be impressed because I wasn't even remotely fooled by it. I'm not sure. Either way, there was no danger of him getting the game and wow..he did try for it. So I caved a little today and helped him play his game and he doesn't know it yet but he's getting an Assassin's Creed 3 t-shirt for Christmas. 

So I sit here now being hypocritical about the game but enjoying the Hell out of myself. I don't care. I'm happy. Since I'm me though and can always find something to complain about I will voice 1 complaint.

 No free wifi and no charging stations for electronic devices?  Really EB GAMES?! For Chrissake, what market are you are you targeting here? Geeks who spend money on video games and electronic devices rather than going outside!!!!  That's who! You want me to be here all day and I have no way to charge my phone? You people know how bad Apple has been about providing any real battery life for its products. Shame on you! I know you think that since its Australia you don't have to provide all the goodies that people in the US expect. However since I do have excess to a thing called the Internet (well, I did before my damn phone died) I do know that free wifi is offered all over the place in the US. If city buses can offer its, so can you.  If you want people back next year think about offering these services, please.

In the meantime I will enjoy my cool new Expo t-shirt and at least for a 10 minutes today, I got to be a cool mom before I was regulated to waiting in the cafe for him to need me again.  All in all, not a bad way to spend the day.

What Parenting While Ill Teaches You

I just spent three days trapped in bed with round two of the flu scourge of the North Shore. Actually since I'm a parent spending days in he'd actually means doing two loads of laundry a day, feeding kids breakfast and lunch, refereeing fights and occasionally passing out on the couch. But that's a lot to type so we'll stick with the trapped in bed part.

I'm now recovering and able to be mobile. That translates loosely to add another load of laundry, do the dishes and cook dinner and drive around picking up the girls friends taking them to a movie and helping a friend with her computer via the phone while in said movie. Now that last part was the actually the only real fun part of the day for me so I won't complain about that. I will add though that while my friend commented on Facebook how impressed she was with me for doing that I say that is more a commentary on the quality of the movie, rather than my multitasking skills.

During my sojourn in illness hell I had to make some changes in my parenting style to better facilitate an optimal outcome. That translates to I had to give up everything I know and believe in as a parent so everyone would still be alive by the time Ted came home from work and I could crawl up to bed and pass out for the night. When you completely cave in and sacrifice your morals one of two things happen. 1. You feel very bad about yourself as a person and you spend the rest of your life trying to make up for your sins or 2. You have a bit of an epiphany and realize that not everything you believed in was the only way of doing things. I think it will shock no one that I am enjoying the latter of the two scenarios.

Let me share some of the pearls of wisdom I learned this week.

1.  Tic Tacs are a perfectly acceptable choice for Morning Tea

2.  If your daughters watching 4 hours straight of My Little Pony lets you nap part of your fever away on the couch, do it.

3. The annoyance factor of My Little Pony increases by a factor of 2 per episode. So one episode is 50% annoying. That means two episodes is 100% annoying, three is 200% annoying. This pattern continues until all you have to hear is the opening refrain of the theme song and you will dream of gouging your ears out with your sons Xbox controller. However since caring about the quality of music is an indicator of returned health try not to be too angry.

4. Kids are going to argue. You can bribe, threaten, plead or beg and you won't change that. Best to stay out of the way unless you feel the blood splatter.  If noise is too much dole out chores to be done in opposite ends of the house.

5. YouTube is a debilitated parents best friend. There are literally thousands of funny kittens, gaseous creatures,Star Wars LEGO, swearing Care Bears, and yodeling Spaniards ready and waiting to teach your children important life lessons. All of which can searched for, found and viewed without your intervention at all. It's an excellent way to teach yourchildren independence  and resilience.

6. It is not only socially acceptable but adamantly required to threaten to "beat that damn dog's ass into the ground" for barking at every rat dog, bush turkey, cat and pedestrian that walks by. Show your neighbors that you are aware of the barking dog problem by screaming every foul, profane and obscene oath you can think of out the window. Be careful though, this can agregrevate your already sore throat. Be sure to have tea and headache meds ready.

7. Keep sharp implements at least 4 steps away from you. This is a safety measure for when you are dealing with kids in the car after you've recovered enough to put yourself behind the wheel of a car. When driving Connor'sfriend home, halfway there Connor began sobbing that she left her favorite high heeled thongs (flip flops) at the park. Still harboring illusions of being a good parent you turn around to go get them. Once there, it turns out that the shoes can not be found. This is confusing since we've only been gone 15 minutes.  Having a sinking feeling in my stomach I returned to the car, only to find the shoes on the floor of the car. It seems that Connor looked down at her feet and saw no shoes and couldn't be bothered to look 3 inches to the right.  I tell you this because I know if there had been anything sharp within my grasp, even a pencil, I very well might might have gone on a rather bloody killing spree. It's only because I had to walk an extra 5 steps around the car to get to my door and my keys did I have the time curtail my killing instinct.

5.  People can wear the same clothes 3 days in a row and while they are disgusting; they are not life threateningly toxic. That's something people in books don't like to say. Good people change their clothes constantly according to modern hygienic rules.  Utter bollocks. Untermeyer filth and decay is falling off in discernable chunks, the laundry can wait.

I'm back to relative good health so I can type all of this. Tic Tacs are back to being off the Morning Tea menu but I'm afraid I'm still hearing My Little Pony in my nightmares.

Cure Worse Than the Disease

The flu has invaded our house...again. I naively thought we had been through the worst of it last week when Tessi dropped like a ton of bricks for 36 hours and I got a headache so bad I couldn't lift my head.  Sadly that was just a warm up and now we're back on the illness train. Just in time for the school holidays and Ted starts his new job. Excellent. Honestly, I epexted nothing less. All good stories start with "Dad was out of town" or "we were all trapped in the house" -the universe is always watching and ready to get you when you can least handle it.

This week the flu/bubonic plague/SARS virus, whatever it is, slams back into us robbing Tessi of her gymnastics camp; which she was trying to weasel out of anyway and take a day of cricket camp from poor Teddy; who really did want to go. Of course I am coming down with something as well because i was up most of the night with Himself, all these kids keep breathing their germs on me and I have no immune system.  Trying to get ahead of the game I brewed myself a cup of Horehound tea, recommended to me a while ago by a dear friend as a cold remedy.  About a month or so ago Teddy was sick and I made him drink it.  He got better, very quickly. It was like one of those hawked miracle tonics but only it worked!  I was singing the tea's praises to anyone who would listen. Now I should mention that Teddy carried on and whined about the taste being bad.  He took 20 minutes to drink a small cup and acted like it was hemlock or something. So I really didn't pay that much attention to him. I mean, this is the kid who whines about grilled cheese sandwiches tasting funny because the wrong plastic cheese was used to make it.  Be serious.  I wasn't impressed.  I've heard that its not pleasant from other people, but really how bad can it be? I've drunk Milwaukee's Best before and survived. I wasn't worried.

This is where arrogance can be your enemy sometimes. When you think you've reached a point that your life's experiences have trained you do handle everything, Life laughes at you. Laughes at you in the form of Horehound tea.  When I told Teddy I was going to drink the tea he smiled for the first time in more than 12 hours. Head splitting open from the pain of a headache and a fever so high he can barely move. Yet the thought of me drinking this tea brought him back from the dead and nearly dying. "Go ahead Mom, you'll love it. It tastes just like regular tea," this was my first warning as to what was coming. He is never that happy unless someone else is in misery.

Taking a sip, I realized that I have joined a rather unfortunate group of people. A group I call the "tasteless honest." Over the years I've met many different kinds of people in many different places. There is always someone who is brutally; if not tastelessly, honest. For example, ever been around someone who drinks something and says, "Ugh, that tastes like horse piss?" Now, usually I stand and wonder, how do they know what horse piss tastes like? If they do honestly know, why would they admit it? It's something I would be proud to share, even amongst close friends.   Now personally I've never imbibed such folly; Milwaukee's Best notwithstanding, but after this mornings drink, yes, I think I do know what horse piss tastes like. So I can join this group I suppose, with a clear conscience. I hope there are jackets.

It's been two hours since I've drunk the tea. Sadly there are no miracle improvements yet. Unless you count the smile on Teddy's face every time he looks at me and asks me if maybe Tessi shouldn't try a cup.  I just glare at him and tell him to blow his nose and shut up. I think though, that will be my one and only cup of Horehound tea.  Not sure if I'm brave enough to try another cup.  I say this not because it was too vile - again former Milwaukee's Best drinker here. It's that I'm not sure how I would feel about myself being the person who claims to know what horse piss tastes like AND went back for another cup. Usually I make fun of those types, rather vocally.

Yet Another Person Angry at Me

Once again I've angered a very important person. I'm starting to think its in my genetic make-up.  I really do have a talent . Although this time there are two major differences, 1. I am taking intense pride in my role and 2. This person is actually important.

When I dropped my son off at school this morning he was so angry he could only speak in muttering voicing and was incapable of answering his sister's baiting him to fight. That's some powerful anger.  My sin you ask? I had the unmitigated gall to have him change his sweater (jumper) and socks and sneakers to the school uniform ones.  Burning in Hell I am.

See after 5 years at Normanhurst Public my son has decided that the rules about the uniform don't really apply to him. He can choose which parts he agrees with and better yet, what he doesnt. For example, he can wear his bright burnt orange UT sweatshirt to school instead of the blue NPS one because he's cold and doesn't want to change it. Yes, Sydney has some blistery cold mornings, I think we've been averaging 10-12 degrees- thats 60-65 first thing when we wake up.  Surely its cruel to make him withstand those brutish temps for the 15 seconds it takes to switch the jumpers.  When I suggested that he could put the school one on to start with it was made abundantly clear that I was obviously missing.the.entire.point. I know that because he told me so.  

However today when I saw the white socks and sneakers and pointed them out I was told his class was partaking in a physical fitness program and he needed runners (sneakers) to wear. I gently and with love, lots of love, reminded him that at HIS insistence I paid a hefty fee for black runners that look like school shoes.  Then suddenly he didn't know where thhe shoers were. They were magically transported to the ever popular hidey hole for wayward shoes dimension. Oddly enough, I learned that the magic words to force the forces of evil to return the shoes to our universe are,"Find the shoes before I do, because if I find them, things precious to you are going away". And behold the apparence the the shoes! Truly this is the work of the Lord....

Surely at this point this boy who has worn the same clothes 4 days a week for 5 years,  understands I'm not screwing around and dresses in his uniform.  You would like to think that he was smart enough to assess the level of my annoyance and toe the line.  Yes, he toed it and then flipped the pinky toe right over it.  Walking past me I look down and the little snot still has on his white socks, not the uniform blue and gray ones.  WHY, you ask? Get this, he actually said this,"Um, we have Fitness today and um those school ones gets holes in them.". Riiiight, not his rock solid white ones, no those are are made from titanium I guess.

Evil Troll Mom sent him back to him room to try again.  Somehow he managed to survive his trials and emerged decked out impersonating an NPS student.  This all came at a high price I must say. A 17 minute ride to school with almost complete silence.  I'm crushed, just crushed I say.  Obviously I need to work harder on my interpersonal communication skills.

Flu-Induced Musings

Waking up with the flu this morning I've spent the entire day in bed begging for the Angel of Death to come. I have not left the bed at all, completely shirking my duties for the day. I'm fortunate because Ted is still at home and much better than I am at stepping in and taking over. He really is good. Kids were fed, dressed and taken to school on time and as far as I know, the police haven't arrived to question him about anything. In my book that's impressive. Thank you Babe, you are the best.

Sadly though, Death never arrived and slowly my head is starting to ache less and the chills have subsided. All that's left is exhaustion and laying in bed. Since I am physically incapable of not multi-tasking that leaves me to surf on the Internet. Below is a group of topics that grabbed my interest, for no particular reason and I thought I'd put my own personal spin on them.

1. The rioting around the world over a film.  Well, you don't have to know me very well to know that I am a huge fan of the freedom to speak.  It's a founding criteria of a civilized society in my opinion. However here is a situation where both sides have got it wrong. Yes, this filmmaker had a right to make his film. It's not slanderous or libelous. It's also not any good either. This isn't some piece about unveiling truth about Mohammad or describing the faith. It's just a bunch of pot shots taken because he felt like it.  Yea, he has a right to say but he's still a twit for saying in the way he did.  The people rioting? Good God, you make nutter extremists look like Quakers. It's a film. If your faith is so offended by it then perhaps it isn't as strong as you think. Grow up.

2. Purse Shopping.  Since I bought the iPad there's been one major thing on my mind. I need to get a new purse to accommodate it. My current purse is too small to contain the iPad and my 1200 utterly necessary things I have to have with me at all times. It's obvious, isn't it? But finding a purse large enough to contain the awesomeness yet still be smaller than a steamer trunk, have some look of fashionability and cost less than weekly monthly electricity bill has become a Hercelean task.  Why, why, why is it so difficult for some designers to understand that with purses women's needs are fairly simple. We like to have choices, sure, but matronly is seldom one of them. Cute, and feminine do not have to mean over-the-top drag queenish. I want a bag large enough to hold my iPad, hold my keys and phone somewhere I can get to them easily and I need room for my wallet, some pens, bandages, a few thousand hair elastics, random McDonalds toys, iPods, Littlest Pet Shop animals and the occasional Xbox controller. I need to be able to walk around with this person and not need a trolley cart to carry it on.  I want it in a fun, but not ugly color. Come on, really.  This should not be that hard.

3.  Social Skills with "Peers"  With all the playground nonsense I've had to put up with the last few weeks I thought I'd look up terms like "Mommy Mafia" or "Queen of the playground" and "Dealing with other Parents" just to see what other people are enduring. Surely our little school in Normanhurst is one of the few places dealing with control and power issues?  Dear God, I'm not even remotely right.  Google any of those terms and you will come up with 1000's of stories, blogs and photos about the dealing with these people. One of my favorites blogs described the one belle as timing her entrance onto the schoolyard as to get the highest number of people watching her; yet not so early as not not look eager.  This mum would smile as her entourage would face to greet her and then scowl at those she had deemed "uncool" My favorite part: "As she looked over her kingdom, I wondered how sad her life must really be if this was the best part of her day. How furious would she be if she realized that no one, including her posse, was as impressed with her as she was. Then I laughed and turned back to my uncool friends and talked about important things, like stain removal tips." I admit it, I laughed out loud at that. Of course my uncool friends and I don't usually talk about laundry, unless it's about getting wine stains out.

4.  NAPLAN results came in today. This is the standardized test given to Year 3, 5, 7, 9 NSW students to prove they are learning at least level appropriateness. As a former employee of The Pychological Corp and a standardized test grader I can confidently say these tests are crap. There sole purpose is to give politicians something to hold up at election time and scream that they care about education. I have always told Teddy and now Connor, who is terrified of making mistakes,  not to worry about the test. All I ask is that they spell their names right and not draw pictures when coloring in the bubbles. I make sure they know that pass or fail, the test doesn't affect them at all. Then I refused to talk about the NAPLAN at all.  You know what?  My poor panic-struck Connor got her results today and scored  better than everyone in the state and her class in every category save one, math. 

HA! Feeling a little superior again with parenting right now.  Dont worry, that will fade the next time I officiate a fight involving the TV, hitting someone's bum and disgusting noises. I meant all 3 of those in the same fight, by the way. Yes, that has happened, don't judge.

PETA will be Hunting Me

Pet owners of the year. Nice sound to it. Add it to the stack of awards I shall NOT be earning this year. Poor Monty, he did not have a good morning.

After being rudely chased through the bush, roughly grabbed and squished into his backpack carrier-which, by the way he hates, Monty endured grabby kids trying to get at him to pet the "cute kitty" and then arrived at the vet's office.  If that wasn't bad enough there was a huge black lab who dared to sniff his person through the screen of the bag.  Whoo boy. Monty pulled his paw up to swipe but unfortunately there wasn't enough room for him to wind up power so the soft tap of his paw was all the disdain he could muster. The indignity of it all.

Sadly though, that wasn't the worst of it. It appears that my 3 year old cat has massive abscesses in his teeth. I've scheduled an emergency cleaning tomorrow. The vet just pulled back his lips a bit and the blood started flowing from the black bits that were his teeth in the back.  Pet owners of the bloody year.

In my defense, yes I do have one, Sasha and now Monty apparently, are silent suffers. Both of them can be in agonizing pain and not mutter a sound. Sasha had a raging ear infection that was so bad the entire outside of the ear had their weird fungus on it. Vet found it on routine check up, she hadn't even scratched at the damn ear.. Monty's teeth are rotting out of his skull and he never missed a beat while eating. So since they were quiet it didn't occur to me that something was wrong.

I have 3 kids. Every one of them will scream bloody murder and beg for the Last Rites if they get a bug bite. If one hits the other the victim will demand compensation, a band aid and a cookie.  There is no toughen up around here. Every absence I have from Tessi has her coming back to me listing her war wounds for proper sympathy or at least documentation.   In fact on Sunday Tessi was carried home from the park by a neighbor girl because she had two splinters in her big toe. There is no injury or illness in this house I don't know or hear about.

Except the animals. Grrrrrrrrr. I scheduled the very expensive but needed cleaning tomorrow. I don't know how long he's been in pain but I can't handle it being for any longer than it has to be.  At least he'll get good drugs.  I hope they last long enough to withstand Connor and Tessi nursing him back to health.

How do You Get Ready for a Home Inspection

Home Inspection Day! 

We were granted a reprieve on the last one because I decided to test the laws of gravity and have a shelf descend upon me. But today is the day and we're back on schedule for getting the house ready. Most people spend the morning tidying up a few loose ends and doing a quick eye test to make sure everything is in its place.

Not me! I'm out in the bush, trying to sweetly call, "Here Kitty, Kitty" because Monty has taken off for the hills. I don't know how he knew about today, but somehow he figured it out and he took off after breakfast.  See we don't have a cat, not as far as the real estate agents are concerned. Renting is so tough in Sydney that we had to not mention the furry one when applying for this house. Which is a bit sad since he's the animal I like. Sasha is a bit harder to hide though.

So there I was, calling into the trees, "Here Monty, come on you little rat bag. We have to go!" in a very sweet, kind and nurturing voice you know.  Now I could just leave him outside and claim that he's the neighbor cat when the agent comes but no....this inspectin time I was clever and scheduled Monty's vet appointment during the time I need to hide him. Kill two birds with one stone as it were.  But since I still seem to be trapped in a state of bad luck that is surpassed only the the Donner Party and the Titanic's Third Class, Monty figured out my cunning plan and was determined to best me at my own game.

I head out to find the cat and leave Ted to herd the kids into last minute chores. I don't think you have to be a child rearing expert to understand that when choosing between picking up leaves, cleaning up after the dog and looking for the cat, my kids chose the cat.  Imagine the success I enjoyed traipsing through the bush, listening for bugs and snakes, calling the cat and every 2 minutes trying frantically to shush my "helpers" as they each took turns trying to nab Sir Feline. Monty, not being a dumb ass,  took the kids's presence as a call to battle and would knick off back into the seclusion of the bug-infested bush and lie and wait. Only after threatening to duck tape Tessi's mouth and delete all the episodes of Ultimate Cake Off did she finally leave and I was able to coax Himself out.

All of this occurred in about 10 minutes but as you can imagine, it felt like 40.  I am a creature of routines and particularly in the morning, I need a steady plan. It has a lot to do with me not being a morning person, plus stress, plus kids.  That all adds up to me losing my ever-loving mind when the tiniest thing goes awry and when it all goes to Hell...well look out.

So my fellow moms and dads, take heart. This morning while you were getting ready for the day at least you weren't hunting wild kitties and batting away the natives.  That's my job!

Not So Free Speech at Normanhurst Public School

I called the president of the P&C for Normanhurst Public School a condescending blowhard on this blog a few weeks ago.  I also posted on Facebook that some "important people" counciled me on not pushing my personal agenda regarding the parking signs at school. For this crime against humanity I am now persona non grata in our little school.  I've learned that the presidents wife was so tramautized by me not agreeing with her husband that she has thought about contacting the school councilor about my role on the Cyber Safety Committee. A group who's sole purpose is to help give parents and carer's any and all information about keeping their children safe from online predators and empowering adults to make the computer control issues they needed.  My voicing opinions is some kind of threat to the sanctity of this group it would seem.

I made comments in a public forum about me resenting a man's tone and his word choices and now I get held to ridicule? It's ok to encourage people to turn their backs on me as I walk by?  Boast about how good it feels to de-friend me?   I stand by everything I have said or written because those pearls are the truth.  I quoted no names and used the exact words thrown at me....unlike the lies being spread about me.

During the Education Week Concert at the end the P&C president's son happened to stand next to me.  I smiled and asked him if he had fun and told him he looked great.  The next day I got a txt from a number I don't know asking me "if telling (little boy's name) that his dad was lousy made me feel good."  So now, not only am I trouble-making selfish rabble rouserwho isn't properly grateful for the gifts bestowed from Himself, I'm worthless scum to goes after and deliberately tries to hurt a child.  

I think in all my many years of life, that is by far the worst thing I've ever been called.  I've said some rotten things in my time.  Some things maybe I shouldn't have said, but once I got out of grade school I stopped trying to hurt children's feelings. So for the record: I have never and will never say nasty things to a child to hurt them or their parent. That's disgusting and evil, much like the person who texted me.

All this started because I wanted to park legally in front of the school and because I didn't leave it in the P&C's hands to fight for that right. I went to council and the media. I  informed the P&C that the media would be coming to do a story, if they wanted to offer support and I was shot down. And because I didn't agree with the party line being fed to me I get to be the school pirahia.  How ironic that you accuse me of bullying....

Enough, you lot can have the school.  Mrs. President, you and your important friends feel free to attend this weekend's fundraiser in peace, I will not be there. I know that was a great concern for you. No need to try and get me removed from a committee that will help parents learn how to program their child's xbox or go online safely, I have resigned.  This committee's mission is too important for our school to have childish people bog it down with playground battles. You don't have to worry about the canteen either. I've resigned from that as well, so you make your appearances to adoring fans only.  Watch out for school pack up time though, sadly for you, I do still have to get my kids.  Please take great pride in vanquishing the heathen enemy. 

 Won't you don't get however is my voice.   I get to keep my blog and my Facebook account.  I get them because despite what you and your ilk think I do have every right to my opinions. The small community of Normanhurst Public School may not be open to free speech,  but the internet still welcomes us lowly non-conformists. So you have unfettered power at this tiny school for another couple of years and I'll have access to the 'net for the rest of my life. In the end I think we'll all get what we deserve.

First Hand Knowledge of Australian Health Care

I had a little accident a few days ago. We had a home inspection coming up on top of everything else going on right now. So Ted and I have been running around to clean and straighten things up. It's like cleaning for company; company that has the power to evict you.  I decided that the shelf/stand unit I built would look better on the other side of the kitchen so I rolled it over. It's on wheels you see, aren't I clever? Yes, I'm so bloody clever that the damn thing fell apart and all the kitchen appliances on it fell over; one of them on my head.

I never blacked out or fell over, however,  pretty quickly I started feeling "off"  and needed to sit down. Thank God Ted was home so he helped me to the couch, gave me some ice and some nurofen (advil in American speak). That's when I noticed my stomach coming up through my throat and how standing was now an Olympic event. After the vomiting stopped Ted drove me to Hornsby Hospital.

When you are here on a Tempory Resident Visa there is no difference between public and private hospitals.  You pay top dollar for both so you might as well go private. We learned that tidbit when Teddy trashed his arm a few years ago. When you are a Permanent Resident, it matters. Being concernend about spending any extra money right now, public hospital we went.  I have to admit I worried about that choice when we first arrived as there was no extra wheelchair to be found to take me back.  I'm clutching an ice bag to my head, walking like a drunken Quasimodo and Ted had to carry me to the triage room. I didn't have to walk too far but still, it was a little weird not having someone pounce on me as soon as I got there to throw me on a gurney.  Fortunately I was so out of it that wasn't much of a big deal to me. 

 FYI the term Punchdrunk is spot on correct.  I felt like I was drunk out of my mind. I couldn't walk a straight line or even stand up straight. People had to repeat their questions over and over and I felt I was viewing the world through foggy glasses.  Ever been so drunk that you had to sit and concentrate on sounding sober? That was me, trying to over-enunciate every word I said and sounding like Stephen Hawking's voice generator. The only thing that different from a drunken bender was me not calling everyone "Hon" or telling everyone how much I love them. At least as far as I know. I'll let you know if flowers start arriving.

A cat scan, some intravenous panadol (Tylenol for Americans) an uncomfortable neck brace and a few hours later I'm discharged with a diagnosis of a concussion. One of the things I do love about Aussie hospitals is the ease of discharge. The doctor gave me the results, made me promise to go seemy GP and to stay away from falling things, then she showed us the door.  No waiting for 6 hours for Admitting to send back paperwork and to clear things through.  No waiting for the orderly to wheelchair me out to the curb.  "You're fine, don't hit your head again. Come back if you start throwing up again.  See ya."  the doctor pointed the way out and We walked out-which I could do now without tipping over back and forth, and headed home.

For everyone in the US screaming about the horrors of socialized medicine and having yourrights to choose your doctors  let me offer this bit of wisdome.  Of all things going though my head on the way to the hospital, "How will we get the kids? Owe, my bloody head hurts. Crap I forgot my phone! Jesus, there is no damn parking! Damn, I think my brain is oozing out my ear!", know what I didn't worry about? How are we going to pay for this? We decided to go public and that was that. I was seen, got treatment and I don't have to panic about a bill coming. Think about that the next you are heading off to the hospital in the US. How many people do you know who will be panicking about a hospital bill? In Australia, not too many.

Now I'm at home, resting and trying to reconnect the synapses in my brain. Yesterday I spent 7 hours just on the couch watching Netflix on my iPad. Today I got up and planned on getting back into cleaning. Our home inspections was postponed but the realtors will be coming back soon with their checklist of issues. Unfortunately my brain is still in lolly-gagging mode I'm afraid I didn't get a lot done. That's fine. My new, swished-about brain is telling me that it doesn't matter. I think I like this new brain. Now if it could just come up with the winning lottery numbers or reveal super powers to me, now that would be cool. I think I'll play it safe another day and sit more on the couch waiting for these powers to come to me.

David Beats the Hell out of Goliath

My son Teddy plays AFL. This stands for Aussie Rules Football. Don't ask, we've decided to find it amusing. It's an Aussie only game involving throwing, kicking and running. And a ball. Some hitting comes into play as well.  I like that. Of course I think I like it most because I can follow the rules so much easier than Cricket. My needs are simple. Cricket is anything but.

Today Teddy played the Under 12's Grand Final championship against one of the greatest teams in the league. Kellyville is an incredible team that takes winning very seriously. They treat training and games as though their very life's existence depends on them. A team that wears matching rugby scrum caps to intimidate their opponents. Kellyville's coach is famous for his open disdain for minor mistakes made by his team.  This Kellyville team who sent a scout to watch our game last week to learn weeknesses for out team. This awesome AFL team has been undefeated this season and was a shoe in to waffle stomp our lowly Hornsby Bewora  Eagles into the ground.

Only...they didn't. Our guys came out charging and won the day 40-30. We led for the entire game, save about 5 minutes when Kellyville came back up and pulled ahead and then the lead returned to the Eagles. My Teddy scored the last goal. Our guys who spent 1/2 of their last training session eating pizza and the rest running in the rain...playing tag I think, they beat this war machine of rabid Under 12's. Beaten by a team made up of several players who are ambivalent about AFL.  Including my son, who announced this morning that AFL is over, Cricket is starting soon.  When I reminded him that the season was still on until the end of today's game, he responded with the clever, "whatever" 

Our boys have lost several games this year. These losses all left Teddy consumed with burning desire to...well, I can't even finish that, he didn't care one whit. Serioiusly, he'd pop-in with a "we won or we lost", and then charge head first into the xbox. He would go to training on Thursday, play the game on Sunday and not care at all about it the rest of the week.

So for all you parents and coaches that think that military-style training, abusive team pep-talks and stalking your opponents is the sure fire track to success you couldn't be more wrong. Kellyville, keep your undefeated season, your iron-cold rules of perfection and your need to win.  I'll keep my son.  My son and his equally-loved AFL, Cricket, video games and his torturing if his sisters.  I'll keep them and of course his

GRAND FINAL CHAMPIONSHIP!

am.

Reasons to be Happy My In-Laws Left

My in-laws left this morning and here is a list of reasons why I'm happy they are gone.

1.  I get to sleep in my bed again.  I've been sleeping on a couch of sections pushed in to create a bed for a month. I sleep like a Whirling Dervish so the sections move apart during the night with each of my spins. In the morning I usually awake with my body stretched out like the doll-display of the girl sawed-in-half magic trick. This made more difficult by the both the dog and cat fighting over who gets to lay on the sections under my feet. Not good.

2.  I get the tv back.  When you fight for dominance in a house consumed by iCarly, Adventure Time and Total Drama Island it's hard to also compete with Bargain Hunt and Antiques Roadshow. Especially when my selections are True Blood, QI and Falling Skies.  I like swearing in my tv, I'm a bad person, sue me.

3.  Speaking of swearing, I do that, a lot.  Now my in-laws were raised far better than I was so they don't swear. But since I do respect them I try not to use the truly blue language in front of them.  Now I've been covering up my language for years.  Back in the US I would use British curses when I didn't want people to understand me.  Nothing like a good, Bugger, Bloody, Roger or Bollocks to vent some steam. Since most of my friends in Texas didn't grow up watching Monty Python I was usually free to swear quite aggregiously and not get caught.  However, that plan went to Hell when I moved to Australia. Founded by Brits, they not only understand my standby safe-words, I've been taught some rather creative new  ones.   But the Aussies comprehending my go-to words does create a need for new obscenities. So recently I've been using some German ones. Not really in my comfort zone but hey, go with what you got.  But  my in-laws lived in Germany for 9 damn years so they understand every Scheisse that comes of my mouth.  I'd find myself in the middle of child stupid stunt induced rage cursing my head off and then quickly apologizing for my language, thus diminishing the power of my vent over the initial offense.  No shock that I've had to up my blood pressure meds.

4.  That's it.  There is no 4. I have 3 things that bring a small sense of joy when having my in-laws return to the US.

See I like my in-laws.  And when I say like, I mean love.  Never have I encountered such a limitless display of love, affection and tolerance. My two girls sit on either side of my mother-in-law, fighting over the privilege of flanking her and Mom smiles and is genuinely pleased to be the object of the fight. Teddy sits and displays his normal, "I'm cooler than anyone at this table and I've got the sarcastic jabs to prove it" and Dad cracks jokes about how he's just like Ted, giving me time to unclench my fingers around Teddy's throat. I get overwhelmed with 3 different tasks I have to complete in 3 different locations after school and Mom assures me that a store bought cooked chicken is the best dinner possible. 

When learning of my horriffic dealings with powers-that-be in this silly parking sign struggle at school do my in-laws council me to turn the other cheek, think about other's feelings or suggest I back off? No, I heard them both giggling how my opposition didt know what was going to hit them.  If that isn't an ego boost, I don't know what one is. Two weeks ago I begged for help with Connor while I had Tessi in a SLT session.  Mom took her out for the afternoon for special time with Grandma.  Then she decided that wasn't fair and made arrangements to take the other two kids out on two separate days so they could have special time. 

They willingly sat though two hours of the kids' school concert when their grandchildren were on stage less than 15 minutes. That's 105 minutes of kids they don't know and will never see again..singing about lions, secret agents and Grease. Bloody saints, they are. They let themselves be housebound for four days with three kids just so Ted and I could escape to the Hunter Valley for a badly needed break.

 I wouldn't do that for anyone in the world on a bet.

So no, I'm not happy they left.  I'll sleep on the couch, watch tv on my iPad with ear buds and learn to swear in Gaelic, but I'm sad they went home. Ted and Mary Tencza, you are the best. Thank you for your son, your grandchildren and for our presence in our lives. I love you.  

Mother Nature vs. Everyone

Mother Nature may be everywhere in the world but Austalia has a special place in her heart.  At least I hhope iit's her heart; lately I'm starting to wonder if tthere's a different part of her anatomy at work.  

I've had all sorts of unusual creatures in my house.  Mutant size cicadas, Austalia Hopping Mice, SOUS , ie Spiders of Unusual Sizes and of course our friends the slugs and possums.  No birds though, well no live ones.  But a few days ago my mother-in-law came downstairs asking for Teddy and me to go upstairs and get the baby kookaburra out of the closet.  You know, as you do.

Trudging up the stairs I had to mutter to myself,"I bet Dr. Spock and the stupid Supernanny ddidn't have to deal with this crap!" and head into my room to do battle.  Fortunely it was not a baby kookaburra but in fact an adult minor bird.  So iit's small but if I have to kill it II'm not going to get into trouble for killing some sacred native bird that is only found every 1000 years. The Aussie Minor bird is as common as the American Grackle.  Cool.

Only the poor thing is hurt, either Sasha or Monty got him.  Ugh, there are feathers everywhere.  Marvvy. Teddy, who is my Dr. Doolittle in training goes right up and picks the little guy up.  So of course the damn bird decides it can fly and is swooping around the closet and bathroom trying to escape. Being the nature lover I am, I scream and leave. Whatever, let Dr. Doolittle handle it.  I'm not sure why but he does.  Teddy very kindly and patiently herds the poor bird into the bathroom and shepherds the bird out the window to freedom.  It's like he saves up all the empathy, kindness and patience he should use with his sisters and channels it into helping this bird.  While I'm relieved to know the skills and emotions exist in his brain, I'm more  than a little pissed that he refuses rouse them with his sisters. Maybe I can convince him to share the love...but then in all honesty I should convince Connor to stop annoying the crap out of him. Yeah, there's more of a chance of me picking up the bird myself.

The other joyous bit of Aussie nature we've had to endure recently is the ever quirky weather. On Thursday we were hit with sudden massive gusts of winds that blew down trees and branches all over the place.  The poor kids at our school had to leave campus by walking around the perimeter under cover because several large trees feel down and more were hanging dangerously.  Here's a picture of one tree in my driveway after the storm.

You can see one very large branch on thr left that looks like a different tree, but it's. From this tree, only it's been ripped off and is hanging upside down.  The two skinny trees on the ground to the left are actually branches that fell.  I would guess that the trees at my kids school are a good 20 feet higher than this one.  I think you can appreciate why we are all looking skyward this week. 

Of course if you're me, you're looking skyward, downward, over the shoulder, behind your back, under books, behind curtains...pretty much spinning like a top looking for all the crazy stuff Mother Nature dumped into this continent that is actively trying to kill you.  No wonder my neck hurts all the damn time.

Making Enemies

I've apparently still good at making enemies. A marketable skill but in this case so unnecessary. All I'm trying to do is park in front of the school. I guess taking that issue straight through to the government rather than following the p&c channel ( parent committee at school) is insulting. Well that and calling the P&C president a condescending blowhole when he slammed me for pushing my personal agenda is also. The latter I can live with, the former I can't.

Mid-Life Crisis

Since the beginning of July our family has been going through some horrific turmoil.  My husband is enduring one of the most painful moments of his life at work and to say our future is murky is a bit of an understatement. Life is rough everywhere I know but in our little corner of the world it's been very difficult to look on the bright side of life. Included in that is this bloody awful war that's been going on about silly parking signs recently put up at school and between dealing with politicians, rabid hunting parking rangers,  a school committee filled with self-righteous pompous blowhards and trying to sew my 3 kids school concert consumes plus organize all the costumes for Tessi's entire  class, let's just say people are learning to move out of my way when I walk by.  My "happy face" isn't that happy on good days so now I bet I'd scare the Hell out of my mother if she were still alive.

There isn't that much to be happy about right now and I can tell you that is more draining that it looks. So after a lifetime of "Do the RightThing" and "Wait  Until Tomorrow When Things Will be Better" I said to hell with it all and went out and bought an iPad. Sure in 2 months we will have no way to pay our mortgage and it's possible we'll be on a plane back to the US but screw it...I have my cool toy.

Yes, that reads bad, I know that. Hear me out, I think this may be my mid-life crisis. I'm 42 and a majority of my life I've either been broke or just able to pay our bills. After years of raising kids I've found myself out of the job market and while I am clever I can't get a real job without serious retraining. So there is a sense of helplessness that I can't even describe accurately.  I needed to have some control in my life. Hence the iPad. I've saved up over a year for it and it's awesome. I am a selfish prat for wasting the money on it and I don't care. I don't feel guilty and I'm having a blast. 

I'm acting like a selfish teenager buying toys and picking fights with weakminded opponents. What I'm not doing is having an affair, betting the mortgage on the ponies or shaving my head and moving to Tibet. So all on all, I'm going to call that a win for me. 

One could argue that I bought the iPad to help with Tessi's dyslexia or increase the kids learning moments with the educational apps. It's total nonsense, but one could argue it. At least I'm honest and I admit it's all about me, that has to count for something. And if it doesn't, eh, I'll worry about that later. In the mean time I'm watching Netflix a shhhhh, don't ask how, reading books, posting on Facebook and hopefully blogging more; all on my new iPad.

Getting Away Before I'm Taken Away

I'm not exaggerating when I say that the last month has been one of the roughest times I've ever had. In the next few blog entries I'll be going into more detail but right now I want to concentrate on one of the nicest things that's ever happened to me.

The Hunter Valley, Australia.

When Life is at it's worse, this place can save your soul. Austalia's oldest wine region the Hunter is an oasis for me. Wine in abundance. Oddly enough, my favorite Aussie wines aren't found here. I'm a worshipper of the Coonawara region Shiraz and will happy walk on a mile of broken glass or listen to my girls sign "Call Me maybe" for the privilege of a glass.

Sadly, that region is too far for me to get to just yet but the Hunter is a mere 90 drive away so Ted and just trekked here a few days ago for some soul-searching and rejuvenating peace. And while my blessed Barrossa Valley Shiraz isn't here...man what's left isn't exactly sloppy seconds.

Pokolbin Brothers still has the best Chardonnay ever bottled. They still have zero interest in marketing and joining the business of high pressure wine selling so most people don't know about it. Good. Stay away, don't take my wine.

Peterson's has some champers (champagne to non Aussies) around and it doesn't hurt the Hunter Valley Chocolate company is next door with a chili chocolate so fabulous I don't mind the hefty $8 fee.

Don't bother looking up Pokolbin Brothers Winery on the Internet now. You wouldn't like it. Stay away.

And I have to mention our accommodation - the Billabong Moon. The first place that Ted and I agreed that want to come back to. In the Hunter there are 100's of places to stay and dozens of them are fabulous. To stand out in that crowd really means something. If you need to disappear for a few days this is the place to go. Billabongmoon.com.au

Check them out but stay way from my Pokolbin Brothers Wines. Mine!!!!

I'm home now and after 4 days of peace and quiet I can listen listen to my daughter play "Where's My Water?" and not want to gouge my ears out. That's high praise indeed.

Thank you Hunter Valley, you've saved a few lives this weekend.

Watching the Olypmics in a Foreign Country

The Olympics started at 6 something this morning.  We've taped it and are waiting for my in-laws to arrive before we start watching.  I love the Olympics and will watch as much as I can.  I boycotted the Beijing Games because it's a travesty that a government that abuses human rights as much as it does has no business hosting the games.

Anyway, we wait and get ready to watch.  I've been trying to prepare the kids with history of the games and talking about American accomplishments.  I figure they will hear enough about Aussie accomplishments from the tv and their friends I need to do my part to remind that the still are Americans. It's still odd to me to see all the Green and Gold stuff around.  I keep expecting to walk into Woolies and see GO USA everywhere.  I'm not anti Australia, please don't think that.  I just want to remember the good parts of America so I'm using this as a way of doing that. So far this is the knowledge that I've been able to impart to my kids.

1. The Soviets cheated in the 1972 games in Basketball and every American is or should be still pissed.  When we watch Men's Basketball we all remember the lying cheaters and point out how they deserve to loose.  It doesn't matter if the Soviet Union doesn't exist.  Soviets, Russians, whatever...they LOOSE!

2.  Less humorlessly, in 1972 11 Israeli athletes were kidnapped and brutally murdered.  Sadly, this is the 40th anniversary of that horror.  Since the IOC is apparently made up of bunch of cowardly anti-Semites so they refuse acknowledge that horrific event.  Well my family does talk about what happened and WE REMEMBER!

3.  Americans rock at the Summer Games.  We can't ski for crap so we are down a few pegs in the Winter Games but the Summer.  Oh yea, that's for us! 

4. We will watch Gymnastics but it's not the only sport happening.  If you watch just Bob Costas and the NBC feed it's mostly Gymnastics.  I HATE when they broadcast Gymnastics warm ups and training when their are medal events occurring in other sports.  Ok, maybe they aren't all glamorous but someone has worked hard to try and earn a medal, I would like to see it.  Also Rhythmic Gymnastics?  Get serious.  That's just stupid.  Sorry.  It's not a sport.  No.

5. I like a fair fight.  I love watching diving, boxing, pretty much everything but I despise events that are decided by judges.  Everyone has heard the joke about the East German judge deliberately low-balling Americans to knock them out.  Know why everyone knows it?  BECAUSE THEY DID IT.  They would cheat some hard working kid just to prove a point.  I hate that.  Since there is no longer an East Germany we usually sit and play "Spot the new East German Judge"  just so we can know who to boo.  Mature?  No.  But it does make for entertaining moments. 

So that's what I covered so far.  I wish my Aussie friends the best of luck and I fully expect you guys to kick the crap out of us in Swimming 'cause you people are fish.  Good racing.  Good luck to all the athletes, no matter where you are from.  Unless you play basketball for the Russians.  Sorry, nothing personally but I hope you come in last.

Baby's First Con

Sometimes something so devious happens all you can do is enjoy the show.

My girls' birthdays are in May and June. The one-two punch of birthday fever. I usually buy my little fashionistas a new outfit as a present. Connor got her assortment of clothes and accessories but I found out a month later that I missed a major desire of hers. Tessi got her clothes and boots. Boots are apparently the only thing Connor has ever wanted. Or more accurately she's always wanted them from the first second Tessi opened the box.

Connor has been suffering with her bootless feet for a few months now. Occasionally I've heard her justify her actions in a fight with Tessi by saying, "it's ok, cause you got the boots" Apparently, those are some damn fine boots.  I had no idea.  But then again, being the bad mother I am, I don't really care.  As much as my middle child may vehemently disagree I don't owe her fine footwear.  If she has to suffer this brutal Sydney winter of 18/60 degrees with simply socks and sneakers, so be it.  Life isn't fair...

Moving on, now it's a few months later and we are gearing up for the school's Education Week concerts.  Each class performs either a musical number or a play.  They dress up in fancy costumes and it's great fun for the kids.  I'm been hunting down Teddy's costumes for a few weeks, just found out that Tessi is the lead in hers (Jeez, that's another blog post in and of itself) and Connor has been bringing home bits and pieces of info about hers, no word on costumes.   Apparently they are doing some sort of rap; have no idea about what.  Alright, I'm up to my neck in bear and gruffelo costumes and helping get Tessi's entire class fitted, I don't really think about Connor's.

Now, here's when I should admit that I have a slight tendency to go a tiny bit overboard with costumes.  Halloween, dress up, plays, parades, whatever...I go a bit loony.  I sew a ton a crap, I buy the right accessories, I travel to 5 different stores to get the exact right shade of green thread.  I once spent 2 hours on the computer searching for the right Apollo 11 patches to print and sew onto to Teddy's costume when he played Buzz Aldrin.  I searched in 3 stores once for the perfect fabric to make Connor a zebra costume, then I hit 2 different op-shops until I found the khaki shirt Teddy needed so he could dress up as the hunter that shots the zebra.  I literally sewed my finger to to Connor's skirt with the sewing machine as I was trying to get the elastic in the waist.  I stopped, pulled the needle back up, swore, kept on sewing.

In short, I'm out of my buggering mind.  I know that.  It's ok.  I'm fine owning that crazy.  Most people around me accept it.  A few shaking heads but really if someone isn't shaking their head in confusion at me I don't know how to act.  What I was not aware however was how easily my neurosis could be taken advantage of by an eight year old.

Yesterday Connor got in the car after school sighing that the class had to dress up as cartoon super heroes.  Hmm, that sound like fun.  "Yea," she said, "All my friends are dressing up as Wonder Woman, Bat Girl, Spider Girl.  But I don't want to do that.  I want to be different"  Really?  Connor, Miss do anything to fit in with her friends, God Forbid any one see that there is anything different about her - SHE wants to be different.  Hmm, ok.  I'm driving, trying to drown out Tessi reading "The Gruffelo" so I'll go with it.  Connor then announces that she is going to be Black Widow. 

Alrighty.  I can work with this!  During the run of the Avengers here I was pretty vocal of my love for Black Widow.  Finally a female character in a action movie that kicks ass, doesn't need help, isn't wearing 4 inch heals and has boobs the size of basketballs.  Natural of course.

Black Widow.  Cool, my daughter wants to be an independent woman who can take of herself and everyone around her.  I'm thrilled.  Immediately I start planning the outfit.  I rule out the black catsuit.  Sure, it's awesome but not practical.  Too expensive for one-time wear.  I will get a long sleeved button down black shirt and black leggings.  Yes, this will work.  My brain continues to spin, no longer hearing anything about Tessi's weird bear-like creature and his fears and morph straight ahead into authentic costume design.  I an hear Connor chanting in the back, "Black Widow is cool.  She's a real hero, she doesn't need any guy to save her"  It's just feeding the fire in my blood.  Hey!  I know it!  She's an Avenger, I'll put a large red letter "A" on her chest.  Wait a minute...a large Scarlet "A" on my daughter's chest.  No, I will not be doing that.  I read Hawthorne, I know what happens to Hester....Maybe I'll put it on her back.  Yes, that will do. 

Ok we're almost home buy now and I have the outfit planned.  I need the shirt, pants and what else?  Yes, boots she needs boots.  Nice flat, no stupid high heel, sensible ass-kicking boots.

Did you notice that?  Connor has just gotten me to say she needs boots.  You know, for the costume.  Not because she wants them.  No, no.  The costume needs the boots to be authentic.

I fell hook, line and sinker for her cunning plan.  She didn't give a rat's ass about Black Widow but she KNEW how much I liked the character and how much I'd want to make sure she looked as much like her as possible.  "Yes, Mommy, I would love to get the catsuit but that's too much money to spend on something just to wear once.  I think the shirt and leggings are perfect.  I'll need boots too, don't you think?"

Now as someone who appreciates a good con I am applauding not only her sheer tenacity, but her patience at pulling it off.  She planned this.  Choose her words carefully; timing the delivery so I would be off guard in the car.  She played me like a violin and it was brilliantly done. Now she could have been Bat Girl but there was no guarantee on boots.  Now by combining my interest (ahem, ridiculous obsession) in  accurate costume design with my joy at my girl not wanting to be one of these fake token female heroes she cemented her chances of success.This is the first step in the 12 steps of playing the system to win as far as I'm concerned.  She will need this skill to overcome the truly stupid people she will encounter in her adult like.

As a parent it is more than a little terrifying to realize how much she's been paying attention and learning how to manipulate me.  She has been stewing on these damn boots for months.  Connor has been covertly paying attention to my likes and dislikes and actively concocted a plan to ensure that she would win.  This is only the first step towards a future teeming with ways and means to drive me totally insane.  I will have to wear mirrors on my shoulders so I can watch my back with this one.

Well played, Madam.  Well played.

Handling Stress

This may come as a shock to everyone, but I don't handle stress well.  I know, it's surprising.  However really stressful things really send me over the edge. I'm not sure if it's because I don't handle change well, the lack of control, the annoyance of Life having the stones to not do what I want but anyway, when the going gets tough, I lose my ever loving mind.  I yell a lot, hyperventilate, my eye twitches, that sort of thing.  I haven't ever frothed at the mouth but never say never.

So today I'm trying a preventative plan for handling a stressful situation that is coming to a head today.  I'm going to play on the computer for a bit, try and find the damn DSXL of Teddy's that is hidden so I can sell it, walk through the kitchen ignoring the dirty dishes on the sink and counter, shut my eyes as I walk by the table with laundry (at least it's clean!!!) on it and head to the couch and read some inane, trashy, inherently stupid books until I have to go get the kids from school.  Then I will take kids to gymnastics, come home and do an eeny-meeny to figure out what champagne to open and figure out something for dinner that no one will want to eat.

Now, I am aware that this is NOT the best, most mature or grown up way to handle my problems.  I understand that.  However I have elected to embrace my lack of caring about the best way to handle things.  I am choosing to believe in my ability to avoid the problem as a way of dealing with it.  We can all go to Amazon and print a list of Self-Help books that all say this is the wrong thing to do but since none of those self-righteous bastards live my life they can stick it.

I may stop and get some frozen cookie dough on my way to the couch.  Don't judge me.  At least my plan doesn't involve alcohol until AFTER I get the kids home.  That has to count for something.

Wish us luck.