A Bump in the Road

There are constants in life. Objects or events that are the same all the time and in every place. Human beings rely on them as a safety net when life is too much to bear.  In a world of chaos and change its comforting to know these few things will remain the same.  They are the lighthouse in the storm. An anchor to hold us steady in wibbly, wobbly times. (Blatent Doctor Who homage) It's knowing that football starts in the fall, Christmas is the 25th of December and gravity is not your friend after 40.  You don't have to think about or plan for it. It is just there.

Yesterday I had a shocking discovery and learned that one of my constants....my truths as it were, is in fact NOT the same everywhere.  I will be very honest and say that this has rocked my understanding of the known and quite possibly the unknown universe. Since its unknown I can't be too confidant. It is safe to say that my world is off kilter and today I am drinking lots of soothing tea.

My husband Ted has been working long hours lately. Well, extra long hours, more than the normal long hours. As a thank you his boss gave him five annual passes to Luna Park. Luna Park is an iconic amusement park on the banks of Sydney Harbour. It's known for its boardwalk style amusements and for a freakishly terrifying gigantic clown face you have to walk through in order to get in. I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable Aussie explanation for creating a symbol so hauntingly disturbing that toddlers and drunks sob in unison upon arrival but its a mystery to me.

In the end the tickets were free and in my world Free = Fab so off we went.  A train ride and 3 mood swings later we were in the park doing normal park things. Waiting in line to validate tickets, being sent to different line only to be told to go back to first line, finish there and head back to the line we were just away from. Yeah, different park sure but beurocacy is beurocacy no matter where you are.  Remember those constants I was telling you about? Well, some aren't that comforting.

We get through the lines and ID pictures and we're off. Tessi is a ride FREAK it turns out and wants to go on everything she can. It's actually fun to watch her. Watch her I say because I'm not going on those damn things. I am NOT a ride person. Never have been, never will be. I've been mocked by people about this since the 6th grade when I balked at riding in the large Hershey's Kiss at Hershey Park. Even chocolate rides scare me. I can think of no greater way to accurately describe my disdain of rides.

We puttered around trying to find something we all can do. Something that catered to Tessi's thrill seeking needs, Connor's joy of random movement, combated Teddy's coolness and didn't damage my need to shelter from fear.

In the end there was only one choice...the bumper cars. A classic. Safe on the ground and no spinning until projective vomiting occurs. Benign yet here is the thrill of violence. The driver has the illusion of control and even better....the ability to extract revenge for years of grievances. With Festivus still so many months away I need a way to air my grievances and not end up in jail. Yes, the bumper cars...a well needed respite and fun family activity.  We line up and and begin the requisite smack talk.

"Hang on to your knickers Teddy, I'm going to knock you into next week"

"Make sure you have a good grip...you're going flying"

Alright, not exactly playing the dozens but come on, there were kids around.  Besides, Teddy has this new cool teen-speak language that makes no sense to anyone over the age of 19.  It's tiresome to listen to and even worse to try and type.

As we stood in line I began to get an odd feeling that something was wrong.  I couldn't quite put my finger on it. There was nothing obvious but.....something was off.

Then I saw it. It took a few minutes to register what was happening. But what I saw changed my world. My life even. 

The bumper cars looked exactly the same, the large metal boot-shaped cars with bright shiney colors and the pole leadingto the top with a visable electrical charge zapping out of it. They were on a flat service with a center isle surroundedwith rubber edges to deflect oncoming cars. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that is, until the cars started to move.  

People got in the cars and they started up in a loud clacking fury. Then the cars all moved in an nice, neat, organized manner around in a circle. Gently driving around each other while turning laps in calm gentle waves.

I turned to Ted and said, "I don't understand. What are they doing?"  He just shook his head at me. I began looking around me and noticed that no one looked surprised. I thought maybe I was imagining things. I blinked roughly and turned back to the track in hopes that the carnage will have returned.

No.  There they were, two dozen racing cars rambling along in straight lines that moved into, dare I say it, sweet curves.  There was gentle swaying of cars as they make turns and feeling of  the breeze as they sauntered by.

Sweet Jesus, I  just heard some kid just apologize to someone for accidentally hitting them.

My head began to spin and my eyes are rapidly blinked. This is joke. It has to be. This is the bumper cars for God's sake. 

No, no, no! This is not happening. 

Quickly my mind raced to conjure up some sort of rational explanation for what I'm seeing.  Obviously I am looking at a large group of rabid pacifists that have come in just before us.  YES! That must be it.  A convention of traveling maniacal peace lovers has come into town and they are having a breather from meetings and rallies at the park. Makes more sense than what I'm actually seeing.  As soon as they are done it will be our turn and we will set things right again.  The bile starts to lower down the back of my throat. I relax a bit. It seems to be an extraordinarily large group of non-violent people as it took several groups for us to get in. No matter, finally we made it and the Tencza Five were in the house and ready to reclaim and return order to the universe. 

The music starts and we are off. Ted races off ahead so he can maneuver a sneak attack from behind. Cowardly sure, but emenslely effective as I am almost launched into the wall.  Connor is confused by the whole stop, go and reverse pedal being in the same control so she unds up just spinning. Teddy and I take turns slamming into each other and I can hear Tessi's shrieks of delight.   I look up to see her completely turned around and driving upstream against the crowd like red-haired pink dress-wearing salmon heading upstream.

While both slamming into and swearing at Ted I notice that Connor is really upset. She's flustered because she can't make the car work. I'm around her so I try to help and calm her down. As I'm distracted by trying to help her turn the wheel Teddy uses this to whack into me from behind and then we all stop moving. Uproarious laughter follows....but just from us.   That's when I notice that it is all clear in front of us but backed up completely behind us.  Everyone else is stopped dead and looking straight at us.

We are so smashed up together that the attendants have to stop the music, put on the lights and then have everyone get out and line up against the wall so they can manually move each car back into position. The Tencza Five have broken the ride. 

I feel like the eyes of Australia all on us. It's the AMERICANS who did this. LOOK AT THEM!

Soon we were allowed back in and the ride continues. Connor is in tears because she still can't move the car and I see a few glares my way. Looking around us I see the cars returning to moving gently around each other in a smooth sleek formation.

This little voice in the back of my mind finally has the courage to admit the horror outloud. This really is how Australia does bumper cars. It wasn't a mistake. 

The ride ends and we leave. I'm holding a shaken Connor and we head out the exit. Behind us is the name of the ride, we just noticed it for the first time...."Dodgem City"  Dodge them. They teach their children to dodge bumper cars here.  There simply are no words.  

I feel like I just found out that Santa Claus is actually chain-smoking middle aged woman named Eunice who uses the elves' sweatshop as a tax write off.

Shaken to my core I post pictures on Facebook and describe my horror. Maybe it's us? Maybe we've been doing it wrong all these years?

Thankfully my American friends come through for me and their outrage is loud and visable.  Bumper cars NOT hitting each other? What fresh hell is this?  Ridiculous!!! ANARCHY!!

It did help ease the pain someone knowing that we are not the only ones. Oddly enough, none of my Australian friends have commented on my photos. Maybe they are too horrified to admit that they are friends with the crazy yanks that broke the ride?

For myself, I am going to spend today in full recovery mode. I am surrounding myself with fighting kids, tea, laundry and more fighting kids. I am grateful for them today; my reliable constants. I'm not willing to even joke about them changing.

My nerves just can't handle it.

Punishment Fitting the Crime

  I did it. I had enough of Sasha's nonsense and I've taken an irrevocable step in punishing her. There's no going back, I have crossed a line.  Here is proof of my rage.

                                      

I took that one extra step and and submitted it here. http://shameyourpet.com/

Hell hath no fury.....

I'm sure Sasha will see the error of her ways and stop this childish behavior.  She will give up dragging food to her crate, stop knocking defrosting meat off the back of the stove and I'm positive that her garbage can tipping days are behind us.

I feel better already.

Team Building Skills

Before I begin today's post I feel that I must say something about the bomb attacks in Boston. I had two friends who were running in the marathon. I spent the day a bit in horror along with everyone else. I had planned to write in this blog yesterday because because I had a doozy of a time staying awake all night with Damn Dog the night before because of a thunder storm. The 3 kids are home with me now for school holidays and we were trapped inside by rain. Each of them had a friend over so that's 6 kids, 2 sets of siblings, a kids computer with a malfunctioning keyboard and mouse, a crazed dog and a strung-out mother. 

Obviously there were some epic stories for me to share. Pure gold.

But after reading online about the destruction and death....really, who the hell cares about a whining mom and her kids? Not me. Not yesterday. I waited to hear about friends just to know if they were still alive. Mercifully, they were alright. I watched horrifying video and nauseatingly gory pictures. I went to bed with my head spinning.

That was yesterday and today I'm writing because to hell with those bastards. They stole the day yesterday but they can't have today. That's too much. 

So I'm back to talking about my life because I still have one. It's full of lunatics and chaos but I have it.  

Right now I'm sitting at a park watching my girls off in the distance fight over whose turn it is to go on the flying fox (zip wire)  I don't mind the fighting because they are far enough away that I can pretend they are someone else kids.

"Tsk! Tsk! what a shame that those girls don't know how to behave!" I mutter knowingly. (Giggle to self)

Plausible deniability. My kids sound Australian now so our accents don't match. I'm the funny talker here, they obviously can't be mine.  HA! No one will know! I can sit there with righteous indignation and gloat about my awesome parenting skills with unsuspecting strangers.

That is until they come over to me to demand arbitration. Damn it. I forgot to account for their need for never ending need for public awareness of their suffering. Rookie mistake. Usually I know better.  I blame the lack of sleep the other night. It just messes with my thought processing for days.

I tried pretending that I didn't know them but that just got me into more trouble. Resigned to my fate, I dutifully pretended to listen to their tale of woe.  In truth, I have no idea what either of them were blathering about. I think it had something to do with gravity brutally forcing them to the ground after letting go of the wire and someone laughing about someone else landing on their bottom. Pride was damaged, feelings were hurt and clothes got dirty. I didnt listen too closley because from my perspective it didnt matter.  I can honestly say in my little world sometimes it's wholly irrelevant which kid was the victim and which was the perpetrator...justice is dispensed the same.  

"FINE! If you can't play together nicely, we're leaving. I have plenty of work for you both to do at home!"

Not unexpectedly, the storm clouds of children's pain and angst evaporated into the open skies right before my eyes. "Oh no Mommy, we were just joking. We love playing together. I know! Lets play together right now!  Over there!" 

I believe this is how sprinters are born. Running away from mom before she doles out work is a phenomenal training method. My girls have not only run away from the picnic table I'm sitting at, they have left the playground area and are hiding in the bush. Out of the corner of my eye I can see them huddled up, staring at me from inside the greenery.  They are working together as a team to hide from me so they can avoid cleaning their rooms. 

I'll be a good mother and let them get away with it for awhile. It's importsnt to promote and encourage team work after all. Besides it won't last long. It's going to take Connor about 30 seconds to realize that she is standing near bugs and spiders and she'll come flying out like she's been launched by a canon.  When the happens I'll gather them up and we'll head home. I've left Teddy home alone as he is far too cool to come to a park with us. He's at home on the Xbox defending his HALO stret cred.  As his mother it's my God-given right not to let him enjoy this ill-gained peace, quiet and happiness too long.

Ahhhhhh, there is the earth-shattering scream I was waiting for. Sheesh, she lasted a few minutes. Wasn't expecting that at all. Agian, my brain must be more zapped than I realized.  maybe time to start free-basing Diet Coke.

now with this level of child screamin most mother would stop typing and look up...at least check to see if their child is ok.

By now, there really cant be anyone who reads this that doesnt know that I am not most mothers. I can hear her screaming just fine as she's running towards me. I learned years ago that if you can scream you can breath. If you can breath you are not dead.  If you are not dead I do not need to look up.

I may not need to look up but I do need to get the screaming to stop before my ears start to bleed.  That is the subtle sign that it's time to leave. The offending bug has been removed so now we are homeward bound. It wasn't a long trip to the park but it accomplished what I needed. We were out of the house. We got some vitimin D and fresh air. The sounds of anarchy were let loose to the heavens rather just my ears. 

For me, that's a win for the day. 

I'll write more another time about Damn Dog and the kids. I'm sure tomorrow will bring more stories. It usually does.

Kids are Right, Change is Bad

I like routines. I find comfort in knowing what's coming and what I'm supposed to do. My kids set-in-stone bed time is 50% for their benefit and 50% for mine. I have always been like that.  It helps me be happy and therefore helps those around me be happy.

Today is Monday and a few weeks ago we added early morning Training Band to the calendar. We have to be at school an hour earlier than normal. It isn't fun getting up earlier but we've been managing. 

By managing I mean that people related to me have been left at the correct school somewhat close to the correct time. Uniforms have been clean and some substance that carbon-based creatures can survive on has been packed as a lunch. I have lowered my standards enough to call that a win.

This morning though, we had the routine mixed up a bit and the delicate balance I hold our lives in was thrown around a bit.

First change:  Going Off Daylight Savings Time.

Saturday had us return to the normal time by setting the clocks back. Getting that extra hour is great unless of course you spent 37 years knowing that when the clock changes in April you GAIN an hour. Since the seasons are switched here in Australia and we are going into Fall right now we go backwards. It takes me a couple days to change my internal clock so I can figure out what time it is. I know this sounds silly, but right now I don't know if its 11:30, 12:30, or 1:30pm.  I have to keep checking a clock. This coupled with the normal confusion that normal people feel, none of us know what time it is.  

This morning, both Ted and I woke up at 4 am after a night of little sleep as the possums were conducting their version of the Highland Games on our roof. Thinking about chucking Sasha up there tonight. If she's willing to murder a Guiana pig surely a couple possums aren't out her reach.  Will research that....

After Ted left for the day I passed back out, only to have my bedroom door kicked in at 6 am by Teddy. I wasn't really listening but he was yammering about some note he needed and that he had to have it as its 7am and his bus was coming. It took me a minute to care enough to wake up to tell him not to panic.  It's was 5 am for God's sake, relax and to go back to bed. I point to the clock to reaffirm this....and that's when I learn that its 6am, not 5am.

Drat.  That was annoying because while Teddy could relax that meant I had to get moving because I had to have everyone wheels up in an hour.

Trudging downstairs I start brewing my tea and getting things going. Tessi bumbles downstairs and then I finally have to wake Connor. Even though she is always up early, of course this morning she sleeps in.

Of course she does.

With the clock ticking down I start using all my super powers to move everyone along. My powers include, but are not limited to:

1. Magic Screaming 

2. Unlimited Threatening 

3. (My personal favorite) Ability to herd squirming cats in a single bound.

We head out the door with just enough time to drop Teddy at train and get to band.

That's when I remember change #2. I am the volunteer parent at band this morning.  I have to be there early to help set up the chairs and stands. I have to STAY there the whole time and be supportive, nurturing damnably thrilled to be there.

Holy Hell.

As I get stopped at my fourth light in a row it dawns on me that we are going to be late. Not terribly late, just a few minutes. but enough that my time-fixated daughter is going to have an ever-loving cow over being late. There stabbing pain starts up in the back of my head.

Not only is traffic thwarting me, but now I know I can't park in my usual close, but illegal spot. Since I will be there the whole stinkin time if I leave my car there it will block the buses and they will call the rangers on me.

Crud, so now...while driving, fighting with Teddy over the coolness of him quoting, "Pimp My Ride" and listening to Connor rattle off about another Warrior Cat that just died and Tessi listing all the people she DOESN'T want to come to her birthday party....now I have to figure out where I can park. 

Yes, my head was spinning. I'm a little ashamed of myself, but I did start swearing pretty badly and loudly. In my defense, I put my hands over my mouth and nose and screamed the obscenities so that none of my kids could be sure what exactly I was saying.

Oh sure, they had a pretty good idea but nothing that could be testified to in a court of law. I make sure that while they have plenty of fodder for therapy sessions some day, their court room musings should be fairly mild and incomplete.

We arrive at school my head is pounding and Connor is in a tizzy. Some idiot (Teddy) has commented that we are late. 

Mental note to change ringtone on Teddy's phone to "Dream Weaver" and call him 10 times while he is on school bus.

Connor is almost in tears as she calculates how many minutes and seconds late we are arriving.  As we are walking towards the school she is wringing her hands and asking me if I am aware that we are late.

Oh no, Connor, I had no idea that we are late. You've only reminded me 14 times in the last five minutes. Gee, why didn't you say something?!?! 

Not being one of those kind, caring and well put together mommies, I'm afraid I snapped a bit and told her to tell everyone she has a bad mother. The gets me an amused chortle from one of the high school girls walking past me.

Oh, keep laughing Miss Thang. You may still have a cute face and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of, but I don't have to wear a lame uniform and I can get get into any bar I want. Not that I do, I'm too tired anymore, but I could if I wanted to!

I try to coerce Teddy into coming into to set up band stuff as he has 15 minutes until his train and I still have to sign Tessi into NOOSH (out of school care) before I can even get to the hall.

I do applaud Teddy for not snorting out loud at me as he flung himself down the hill to get away from us. I did hear a lilting, "Yea, whatever" floating in the air as he almost pulled off a cartwheel. 

Can't blame him. I wanted to run too.

Band is all set up and has started by the time we get in. Fortunately There were plenty of good parents around to pick up the slack until I decided to arrive. I hang my head in shame and turn to take Tessi to Care, which is at the top of the hill. She's running ahead of me and stopping to call behind her, "Come on Mummy! You can do it!!"  I start to yell at her for making fun of me but I have to stop and catch my breath. 

Rotten brat...

Once I get Tessi settled I trudge back down the hill and into the hall. I make my sincere apologies to the teacher and band director for our lateness, which both graciously accepted. It's all a lie I'm sure. I imagine they hear this same sob story twice a month. I look over and Connor is glaring at me over her flute. 

Mother of the Year, here I am.

I offer my penance in the only way I knew now. I spent the hour listening cheerfully, helped handing out music, applauded every bar played and didn't check my phone once.

For me that was akin to prostrating myself and shouting Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa,Mea Maxima Culpa!!

When I pick up Connor today I'll find out if she has forgiven me. I plan on being very mature and honing up to my mistakes. 

Sure that's what I'm planning to say, but most likely when I see her and she's still mad, I'll blame it on Daylight Savings Time.

I find that it's rarely a good idea to admit weakness to kids. They can smell it like blood and it causes them to swarm.

Daylight Savings Time bags another victim.  

That's my story and you can't make me change it.

The Fine Art of Painting

 Right.  So no, the entertainment center is still not done. I had a few minor setbacks regarding paint this week.

First thing you need to know about painting is that the entire job is only about 30% of it is spent actually painting. The other 70% is prepping and clean up. Since prepping and clean up is the lamest part of any job this makes painting a vicious chore.  The only way to make it even less enjoyable is to have endless supplies of help. By help I mean by people under 4ft tall. Those over 4ft and male ran like hell when I got the paint brushes out.  Cowards.

No, no lucky me had Tessi and Connor taking turns begging to help me paint. Even buying them cute little porcelain bunnies to paint for Easter wasn't enough to hold them off. I finally had to threaten them that the Easter Bunny would give their stuff to Teddy if they didn't remove themselves from my sight.  

Then I let let them spend hours alone on You Tube watching Skylanders videos.

Yes, I do understand that my name is now removed from the World's Sweetest and Most Nurturing Mommy competition.  If we're honest with each other though, I've been out of the running for that a few years now.  That used to bother me but then I got over it. 

I set up my painting station outside because there really is only so much chaos you can fit in one house. 

                                    

Wow. That is blue. Its even more blue in the picture.  I think the name of the color is Damn Blue. But I wanted something different. Something fun. This color will be inside the drawers and the shelves. The outside will be darker. It will be fine.

Please ignore the dying plant on the right. I got that at a Ladies DIY workshop at Bunnings a week ago. I went for the build a cabinet section, not realizing that there was a plant an herb garden bit. 

What the Hell am I going to do with a plant? 

Oh yeah, same thing I always do. Watch it die.  

At least the planter is going to a good home. My friend Leigh is a wizard with plants. Should have given her the stupid thing as we left the store, plant would still be alive.  My bad.

Now I have learned a very important lesson when it comes to paint and selecting paint colors. When the gal behind the counter says, "You need a  coat of primer underneath the dark color or else it won't show up right." She is serious. This is not some scam perpetuated by the paint industry.

If you learn nothing else about DIY learn this: 

The sentence, "Oooh, I don't really want to spend extra on (insert word or phrase) right now.  I'll just make do with what I have." Actually translates to "I'm going to spend twice as much covering up the screw up my cheap-ass causes by  not doing the right thing the first time around. "

In short, when the paint chick says buy primer, buy the damn primer. I know paint is twice as expensive in Australia than back home. I know that. But do you really want to spend hours trying to achieve the cool neat two-tone effect you were looking for only to see that both shades look so similar that the difference just looks like a lighting problem?

                                 

I think not.  So back to the store to get darker paint and hope I can use the first coat of blue as a primer.  It doesn't work quite as well as I would have hoped but I've decided to find the paint shade charming. If you needle me about it I'll direct you to closest paint store and you can fix the eyesore yourself.

Just so you know, along with paint you need this.

                                       

I suggest you not bother with this puny size bottle of turpentine. It's easer I think if you just fill the swimming pool with it. 

The best part of if it is that it removes the hideous smell of paint from your nose and replaces with unique, yet ghastly odor of chemical death.  This is also a good time to stock up on any and all headache medicine. Also, this is is BAD time to run out of your blood pressure medicine as the headache caused by the blood pressure rising and the fumes  can not be cured with your generic OTC meds.

Just saying, of course that didn't happen to me. My house runs like a Swiss watch and all prescriptions are up to date. That is if the date is October 1956.

But this is where I'm up to. The painting is almost done. My next post will either have a completed picture or so help me God I will have a picture of a bonfire. 

I did put the cabinet on wheels so it will be easy to roll it out onto the driveway to light up.