Tick Tock

Australia, Australia, Australia....we love you. However the bugs... man...the bugs...eh, not so much.  

I'm a nice North Eastern Yankee American girl decently raised, so it really isn't too much of a shock that I don't care for Mother Nature's pets. Sure there are bugs and insects way up there in Yankeeland, but there is also very nice, healthy winter to kill off the really large and bizarre bugs. Ticks, flies and mosquitoes were really the extent of my daring insect adventures. My poor father is such a rabid bug lover that he used to honestly suffer and lament about where he went wrong with my upbringing. How could he, a man who describes June Bugs as (gulp) pretty) raise a troglodyte bug racist.  

Not me, I didn't wonder at all.  I am perfectly content with my lack of warmth and compassion towards the bug community. "Speak Loudly and carry a big-ass can of Raid" was my motto.  "Kill them all, let God sort them out"- I felt that had rather accurate ring to it and described my philosophy quite nicely.  Moving to Texas and it's position far, far below the Snow Belt was a bit of an eye opener for me.   I learned about Scorpions, Black Widows and of course to keep the exterminator's number on speed dial.

Of course now I live in Australia. A beautiful, magnificent country teeming with assorted fauna lining up to kill me viciously and slowly.  This place must be Entomologists vision of Disney World. It would not shock me at all to see a tattoo on someone saying, "Jiminy is My Homeboy."  Considering the buggers they have on tap here...I don't think I would even laugh.

Bugs here seem to fall into only two categories for my Australian friends.  They're divided into either, 'Nah, those won't actually kill you" or "Too Right! That'll knock you down a bit!" - This last category is roughly translated to American English as "Run.  Now. Run as fast as you can; sobbing will always be mocked but is still totally acceptable."

Keep all of this mind as you join me in my tale of this mornings adventures..  My tale is about me waking up with a tick in my arm.  For honesty's sake I should admit that I wasn't aware fully of the little bugger until about ten-fifteen minutes after I got out of bed.  I'm not what any reasonable person would refer to as a Morning Person.  Life has to sort of forcefully jam itself into my skull before I can register it.  That being said, even I tend to mentally swim to the surface when I notice a creature burrowing into my skin.

Since I am six plus years in on my Tour of Duty here in Down Under I realize immediately that this isn't a bad tick.  Prior to landing here, realizing that there is a foreign body of icky proportions embedded in my flesh would have sent me running to the garage to hunt for a hacksaw to cut off my arm.  This Jersey Girl is now knowledgeable about the tick world.  For example, I know that there are several kind of ticks and the one digging for China in my arm is the basic, benign Grass Tick.  I don't know if that's it's real name or not because I really don't care to Google a picture of this bad boy.  I'll see him in my dreams for a while to come.  It's what all my friends call it and that's good enough for me. These are good, hearty Aussie women who do not put down a wine glass and administer first aid for just any old bug.  A Grass Tick is annoying but they don't actually kill you, they gently tell me as they refill their glasses.

Yes of course.  How utterly juvenile of me.

Bearing this in mind,  I did my part for bringing my Aussie sisterhood pride this morning.  After realizing what was causing the annoying itchy, general Ychhh! feeling in my arm, I got dressed and came downstairs to deal with my unwanted guest.  I did this sans tears, vomiting and a majority of my favorite expletives.

I admit though, that I was a weakling Yank and two years ago I insisted the doctor write me a script for serious tick killer cream.  In my defense, at the time I had just been bitten by a diseased tick and got a nasty wound  the size of my hand on my thigh and was almost hospitalized.  The doctor chuckled a bit as she wrote it, saying, "Sure, you can have it but really...just a bit of fly spray on it will do you good."

Ha, ha, ha, Ahhhh no.  This scaredy cat grew up in Lyme Disease Central and I'll be damned if I'll risk it to prove how tough I am. Fly spray for ticks?  Sure, try that on another foreigner.  This one wants the good stuff. Better living through Chemistry.  This is not just a cute catch phrase, it's a damn meaning of life.

After I wake the kids and put the kettle on, I slavered the prescription goo on, remembering my first aid lessons that tell me that I have to wait for Senor Tick to backtrack out on his own, as removing him myself is bad.  I made the girls lunches, and my tea, yelled again for kids to move it along and sat down to wait.

It took me about 30 seconds to remember that I am in fact, actually ME and that I am sitting at my kitchen table with a  FREAKIN'...BUG...IN...MY...FREAKIN'...ARM!

Sadly, it was at this moment that my desire to be considered a real Australian spiraled rapidly down to the fiery pits of Hell. Admittedly, I brought shame to the house of my father by running screaming to the bathroom to dig out the tweezers and evict the beast with six legs.

Of course, what happened next is what everyone tells you will happen.  You can't tweezer out the little bastard because only part of it is visible outside your skin.  No matter what you can see on the outside there is this teeny tiny little head that's wedged under your flesh.  The laws of Physics being the rat bags they are, laugh at you when you apply too much pressure on the wrong end.  Pulling on the big end just left me severing the body and leaving the head behind under your skin.

I'm sure most of you remember the expression he/she just gets under your skin?  You know why it's so descriptive?  Because knowing that there is some sort of creature, no matter how dangerous or not, stuck underneath your epidermis is all you need to be driven completely out of your  ever-loving mind.

To sum up....I now have 1/4 of a bug in my arm, encased in a rather unattractive, conspicuous, swollen lump and my girls are crying because NOW they know there are bugs in the house and they might get bitten.  Honestly, I have no idea where the HELL they have been living the past six years.  NOW they are worried?  Seriously?  Oh Good God. There are bugs everywhere here!  I understand a little bit why my Aussie compatriots are not quick to offer sympathy.

The worst indignity of all? All my Aussie friends are going to laugh at the Crazy Yank who let herself be troubled by a bug that won't even kill you.  Maybe I'll be in luck and this little guy will be sick like the last one and I'll be dead by pick up time.  At least then there will be some sympathy.

 Doubt it though.  I'm sure in the end, someone will stand over my grave and bellow in between gulps of red wine, "I wonder if anyone ever told her about fly spray?"

Hide Under the Covers Kind of Day

 I seem to get that mentality a lot. I just left the computer room and I'm curled up on the couch with my iPad, blanket and the properly known as the rechargeable hot water bottle, but much easier to say, Squishie.  I plan on spending the reminder of my alone time huddled in silence surfing the Net and pinning on Pinterest.

Am I proud of wasting a gorgous sunny afternoon hiding in my house and erecting my living shrine to sloth? No...but the again, I'm not necessarily all that ashamed either.

I have my reasons or excuses if you like.   Maybe it's because I ended up having a tearful reunion with a dear friend yesteray and shared several bottle of champers so there a slight hang over problem. Perhaps its because I know that my new job is starting soon and my ability to take these breaks will be severely limited. 

Maybe with my self-induced and much deserved headache pulsing down to my throat I learned that my darling husband is working late enough that it'll be race to see if he even makes it home today.  This leaves me with making dinner that 3 kids will hate and dragging everyone to and from AFL Training.  I could also even shamelessly play the Depression card and say that sometimes I get very overwhelmed with everything and I need to shut everything out so I can focus better later on.

Who knows, maybe I am the lazy git I think I sound like. I don't know. Right now, I honestly don't care. The only thing I am sure of in my life...the one truth there is.....is that there is no real one answer to everything. Some days its wrong and lazy to sit and do nothing. Other days its a necessary sanity break.

Whatever the answer is for you and your life embrace it. Squishie and I are in a firm embrace right now and let me tell you...if this is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Continuing Adult Education

Life is learning.  I firmly believe that statement.  When you start hearing yourself say I don't want to learn that or why do I need to know more things, I think it's time to lay down and die.  Every day you should at least try to learn something new.  Never, ever take pride in not knowing something.  Even if you don't care about it... just don't be happy about not knowing anything about it.

I have a college education, a post-graduate certification and I have been a stay-at-home-mother for two months shy of thirteen years. Many would think I should have skipped college since all I do is take care of kids.  Since they are morons I ignore them.  Well, not so much as ignore but mutter, "Dumb Ass" and walk away from them. 

Personally I think education begets education.  My children will see someday (as soon as they stop snarling at me and fighting with each other) that I went to school, therefore so should they.  I treasure learning and they should too. I'm hoping I can show them that they should always want to learn.  And that learning takes place in many, many places.  I may not be in school right now for example, however, I would not say that I'm not learning anything.

What most people don't understand is how educational staying at home with children can be. Being trapped in close proximity these last two weeks of school holidays I have had dedicated time to study them.  Really look closely at them and look for meaning in their words and actions.  This was no Jane Goodall level of study, as I wasn't crazy enough to let myself be assimilated by the kids in their native environment.  Yet, I was able to step back and notice quite a few pearls of information being bandied about.  Looking closer, I believe I can see how what I have learned can be used for education in the more traditional forms of study.

Mathematics

Infinite Numbers:  There is an infinite number of  times the word mommy /mummy can be said in a single conversation.  Here's an example of a conversation I had a few days ago.

Tessi:  Mummy?

Me: Yes?

Tessi: Did you know...Mummy?

Me:  Yes, Tessi, I am listening, Did I know what?

Tessi: Oh, sorry Mummy, I thought you were listening to someone else.

Me:  We're alone in the car Sweetie.

Tessi, I know that Mummy!  Did you know that I fell over at Bailey's party?

Me: The one from a few days go? No I didn't know.

Tessi: Um, Mummy?

Me: Still here Babe.

Tessi: Well maybe you didn't hear about it because I didn't cry Mummy. 

Me: Your not crying is something that I would like to hear about.

Tessi:  Mummy?

Me:  Tessi?

Tessi:  No, Mummy, I meant I didn't cry a lot.

Multiplication:

Solve this word problem.  How many pairs of matched socks does one family have ready for school after mother has done laundry for days?

The number of missing socks does not divide evenly into the number of paired socks bought. You must multiply this number by at least 8 to get the correct number of socks.  This is because you have to factor in the number of single socks that come off during the night and get stuck in between the loft bed and the fall. 

Also you have to account for the Attitude Fairy blessing your son and having him decide that matching socks is the Man's desire to hold him back. He will wear whatever sock he wants, whenever he wants. This action ensures that all socks are single socks when they arrive in the laundry...if they even get there.  Don't forget to account for the occasional sock that end up in and out of Damn Dog's digestive system.  

Factor in all these variables and you will arrive at the conclusion that the number of paired socks available on a school day is zero. Trust me, it's always zero.

English:

Grammar:

My children's sentence structure varies upon the situation at hand.  As English as a very complicated language it must be understood that different scenarios call for different speaking styles.  In their world, all are correct, depending on the proper usage.  For example:

Aware that they are in trouble but not sure why:  "No....possibly...I thought I would do...I mean say that.....sometimes."

Oblivious to fact they are in trouble: "Sure, that was EPIC!"

Trolling for treats: "Mummy... um, yeah...did you know...um, well, I think you are the best! Also, can I have that?"

Angry Younger Kids: "(He/She/It) hurtmeanditwasonpurposeand(he/she/it)neverevensaidsorry!!!"

Angry Teen:  "Grunt!"

Answering questions while playing video games: "(Ignore, ignore)What? Me? Sure, yes, I mean no...What?"

Vocabulary:

Good: Epic

Really wonderful: Super Epic

Agreement: KK

Bad: Lame

Excited surprise: OMG

Anything I say: Blah Blah

Science:

Similar to the world science community there are several warring theories in our house.

Ted: Gooey, gurgling, pulsating, vomiting explosions, and dirt...lots of dirt. It's all good.

Tessi: Nature is beautiful, we must save it all. Unless it's ugly...then kill it with fire.

Connor: Kill it all with fire.

Interpersonal Communication:

Greetings:

Teddy and friend: Head nod, exchange of revolting nickname, utterance of disgusting sound and punch.

Connor and friend: high pitched squeal, exchange of "OMG, Can you believe....or You don't know!" Possible jumping and running off to plot in secret.

Tessi and friend: high pitched squealing combined with jumping and hugging. All in one motion.

Disagreeing with Me:

Teddy: Sullen silence. Occasional "whatever" mutterings may eek out of his mouth. Is able to repeat begrudgingly, "Yes, I understand."

Connor: "No, it's actually this (whatever her opinion is), you're wrong. I read so I know about things."

Tessi: Cry.

Disagreeing with friend:

Teddy: MMA try-outs. Then it's over.  No one remembers what problem was.

Connor: High pitched wail followed by, "Whatever" Fight lasts for days...weeks even.

Tessi:  Cry. Then it's over.  No one remembers what problem was.

History:

Sadly I would say that our History lessons are sadly lacking.  This is evident by no one realizing that I am in fact serious when I say clean, put away or stop doing something.  Clearly they need some sort of Cliff Notes version of Ancient History to help them remember past consequences for actions.  I'm considering printing out signs that say, "Stop whatever you are thinking of doing.  Is it worth Mom cutting you?"

There it is.  Continuing Education for Adults but at home. Who feels smarter just from reading all of that?  Personally I have to say that while I don't feel smarter, I do feel a bit more enlightened.

Holiday Truths

 I had two extra minions in the house today so I decided that getting out of the house was the simplest way to preserve what was left of my sanity. After our adventures last week in Sydney Olympic Park takingArchery lessons I picked up a brochure about their "Kids in the Park" holiday activities.  There are some incredible activities offered there.  Archery, BMX bike races, Badminton, AFL, cooking and art classes...quite a selection.  The prices range from the very kind FREE (my personal favorite) to the uppercrustic $295 for three days of digital film making classes.

Let me just say right here, right now, I could win 2 separate lotteries totaling 300 million stored in untraceable off-shore accounts and I STILL wouldn't pay $300 for my kid to learn how to make a film. I'd rather buy them an iPod Touch and say, "Here, go figure it out.  Let me see it before you post it to You Tube."

Since I had five kids in tow I was more interested in the FREE activities.  I put free in all caps because I feel a very strong connection with the word and would like to boast of its importance in my life.  FREE, I need FREE things to do with kids.  Even the inexpensive Archery got pricey when you multiply it by three.  Times five?  No thank you...FREE, FREE is my friend.

I drove us down to do the Visitor Centre for the Crack the Code trail walk.  This sounded fun and educational while I was at home staring at the website.  After driving an hour there, finding the stupid Visitor Centre, then trying to find a place to park close enough to Centre that we could actually get there I decided to ditch the Code Cracking part of the trail.  

Turns out that in depth knowledge of a compass was needed.  Again, cuddled in the safety of my computer room , it didn't seem so bad.  Standing in front of the counter with two of the girls fighting with other two girls and Teddy snarling at everyone that walked by I decided that we needed less education and more physical movement.  We decided to take one of the four trial walks that has a picture list of of 18 objects to find as you head towards the Brickpit Ring.  It was only a couple of blocks and one of the pictures was of a monument to the discus throwers we walked by already, the other was just of a tree there were a few birds. This seemed easy enough to get through with a group of kids.

I decided that the picture of the tree was allowed to mean any tree we stumbled across.  Immediately Teddy jumped in arguing that it had to be a specific tree.  One only found at the end of the walk next to a certain kind of footpath.  I accidentally whacked his arm with the "Kids in the Park" brochure. "There are 5 kids here, Dumb Ass.  If we want to get out of here alive we have to let go of some things." I gritted out through clenched teeth. He braced himself for an intense battle but then overheard Connor screaming at Tessi to stop stealing her friend and Tessi yelling at anyone who walked in front of her.

I wouldn't say Teddy and I were instant friends right then but we both seemed to accept the connection we needed to survive all this Girl Power manifesting right in front of us.

As we headed out on the trail I reminded myself of a few truths about herding kids in public. Here are a few of them.

1.  Almost immediately someone will have to go to the bathroom.  Today that fun was ruined by the toilets being located right at the Visitor Centre.  It goes without saying that of course, no one had to go.

2.  When you have kids and come as a family they will be bored, angry and will whine about not having one of their friends with them.  If you are nice and offer to bring friends, there will be one kid who refuses to ask someone.  Today it was Teddy as he was so angry about being forced to go that he refused my offers at finding a cohort for him.  Since Captain Too Cool for everything was alone I made him my wingman.  That went over as poorly as you would think.

3.  Along the friends line if you are nice enough to bring a friend even then you still aren't safe.  Nooo.  Today two girls decided to switch dates and play with each other rather than the friends they usually pair up with.  This left the other two confused and angry.

Confused, angry, female and clues hunting trail do NOT go well together.  "Tell me Connor, what can you find on the list?"  "N.O.T.H.I.N.G. JUSTLEAVEMEALONE!!" 

Cue tears. 

Teddy starts laughing at her.  Not in the mood for this, I was equally mature and hit him again on the arm, only this time he stopped short so I raked my knuckles against his arm.  Apparently that causes a very similar reaction to having your arm slammed by a twenty pound sledge hammer.  At least you'd think that listening to him carry on about his arm.

Sighing deeply I looked down at the map and see that not only are we only 1/2 to the Brickpit Ring there are no liquor stores along the way. Trying not to be a coward I pressed on.  Soon we made it to the Brickpit Ring which looks like this:

                                              

 I would like to add that this point I was not aware that it was that high in the air.  We were walking towards it from the other side and I've never been there before.  When you're on the ground it looks a lot lower to the ground.  Also, I didn't quite grasp how large around it was.  We walked down to the entrance and I took some more photos.  

                                                 

Looking at the picture can you guess who is happy and who isn't?  I know, it's really difficult.  Don't worry, the moods change in about 30 seconds so perfectly understandable if you've guessed wrong.  As we step out onto the ring Connor finally cottons on to the fact that this sucker is waaaaay up in the sky and course...she panics.  Since I am no lover of heights myself I begin to feel less than thrilled myself.  By the time we got 1/2 way around both of us were clinging onto to each other like a life raft and rating our fears on a 1-10 scale.  Connor got to 9 and I got to 7.

Actually I was sitting quite squarely on 8.5 but I couldn't tell HER that.  I had to figure out how to get us all off this ring of terror with as few tears as possible.  We managed to find a few more items on our checklist before the fear consumed Connor and myself.   You can from the picture below how excited everyone was about this.  Especially Teddy, his glee was palpable.

                                                 

        

Exiting the ring of death was the cue for the serious whining to start.  Here are a few more outings truths for you.

1.  One child will always get too tired to move another step.  They will beg and whine to be carried.  Unfortunately for them I am NOT carrying anyone over the age of 8 unless a leg is dangling from a tendon.  What I suggest is that the poor exhausted child run ahead and rest while the rest of us walk up.  This child fell for this every.single.time.I said it.  She was quite proud of herself for "forcing" me to let her rest. Yeah, she beat me alright.

2. Someone will get a blister.  Unfortunately this time that person was me.  Even worse was that I knew it would happen.  It does every time I wear these shoes.  I can't throw them out though because they are Merrel's and everyone knows that Merrel's are the most comfortable brand of shoe.  Mine are insanely comfortable, except in that one tiny spot that the flesh is strategically ripped away. Don't judge me. I can't buy expensive shoes often but when I do I hold onto them. For a LONG time.

Today we made it out of Sydney Olympic Park alive.  No one has called the police me. I call that a win for the day...Hell, for the entire holidays.  Sure, two girls weren't talking to each other, and Teddy still isn't talking to me but he is laughing uproariously at his sister. One of the girls who is being ignored has no idea she's in trouble. The other girl feels the wrath but honestly doesn't care a single whit.  Once we were home all problems were solved with some chicken nuggets, crackers and then a trip to the new neighborhood park with the girls and better yet leaving Teddy home alone with his precious Xbox.  

By the end of the day the couples paired up as they were supposed to and friendships were mended.  As with most outings with kids, few things end up as you planned. That's the last truth I want to share with you today.  The really crazy parents

are the ones who have to keep everything organized and on the planned schedule. If you can improvise a bit and let a few hiccups occur then it should all work out in the end.

                                     

                                             

                                                                   

If you can't, then kept some Advil and some Hard Cider in the house.  That helps too. 

Vito Corleone versus Edward Cullen

Keeping in mind that I never make a bet when there's a chance I might lose......I have to say that I'm pretty confident a person could search the whole of the Internet and not find another sentence with those two names in it. 

I'm not necessarily proud of that fact but it is what my life has come down to right now. A choice between The Godfather and Twilight.  If my daughter or I were any other people, I would be shocked. Since it's us, meh....that's our life.

The other night The Tencza Taxi service was in full swing traveling to other homes to pick up and drop of kids and do an AFL training run.  Of course it goes without saying that we were late.  I find that being late adds that extra special adrenaline rush I need to help me push through the pain and herd kids to various activities.  Bike riders use EPO, I use tardiness.

Teddy and one of his best mates were talking about the movies I had just lent them. Specifically, the movie The Godfather. Teddy's friend had read Mario Puzzo's book and we both agreed that it was much more violent than the movie.  Not to say that the movie wasn't fantastic, obviously it was, but the violence was much more intense in the book.

My lovely daughter Connor is sitting next to the boy and at the tender age of nine is trying desperately to act seventeen. These means that she is desperate to distance herself from her babyish sister and prove that she can hang with the older kids.  She's tall enough to considered a Year 6 after all.  To her that means she should be treated as such.  Also, she has known Teddy's friend for years and now that he is a HIGH SCHOOL BOY, he's a bit on the cute side.  The only strike against him is that he's friends with Teddy.  I think though, she's hoping to cure him of that.

I didn't realize though, that Connor was paying attention to our conversation about The Godfather.    

WARNING!  

This is the point in the story that you should mark as the beginning of the end of normal.  I really should have known she was listening and that something was about to happen.  The problem with spiking your system with adrenaline all the time is that your other senses tend to suffer.  Speeding down the highway, racing to get to training on time, trying not get hit by a tired driver in rush hour traffic and carrying on two different conversations is not the ideal way to keep your mind sharp and on the look out for potential verbal landmines.

Connor was sitting in the back seat biding her time.  I see that now.  Looking back, I'm pretty sure I heard the grinding sound of the gears working in her skull.  The cute boy likes the book maybe she will too. She barges in the conversation and begs to read The Godfather.  Obviously, this will cement her position at the big kids table.

Riiiiggight. Miss Animal Lover is going to read about severed horse heads and diners in restaurants being shot and killed while they eat.  I'm sure she will be able to distance herself from the story enough not to sob every time she sees another horse or burst out in hysterics every time we head out to then RSL to eat.  Whatever.  No way I'm going to let this happen.

No, no. Unfortunately for Connor and her attempts to impress the hottie sitting next to her, Evil Troll Mom said "no way Chica." It's more about me than her though. I am not emotionally ready to handle the psychotic mood swings reading this book will cause for months...if not years.  I kiboshed The Godfather. 

Not to be thwarted though, Connor immediately countered with asking to be allowed to read Twilight. Connor is a master manipulator and when she sees an opportunity so she grabs it.  She knows perfectly well that I have a hard time denying books to be read.  Toys and TV shows?  No problem.  I can deny them easily.  But books? Sigh....it's a weakness.  I've put off picking up my medicine prescriptions to pay for new books.  My kids know this and act accordingly.

But Twilight?  Really?   We leap from mobsters to vampires? 

The sad truth is that really isn't all that shocking in our little corner of the universe. Our segues have never been straight direct lines from points A to B.  We sort of saunter from A around to Q back to F and loop around until we accidentally land on B.  It works for us, what can I say?  Still, even I was curious that she launched into the world of glittery vampires.

I asked her what made her about about Twilight and it turns out the culprit is her friend in the neighborhood telling her how fantastic and romantic the story is and that Edward is soooooooo cute.  Great, I'm now having to have literary prose compete with the young girl "He's so dreamy" interest.  I'm dead.

To be honest  I'm caught a little off guard here.  I wasn't expecting this girly teen angst until....well...at least the teens.  She's NINE.  How can she possible be ready to pine longingly for pale moody boys?

I accept honestly that part of my denial is my abject hatred of these books.  I am 100% on Team George Takei with this one.  These books are horrific.  Anyone with 117 years of life experience who has the hots for a seventeen year old is a pedophile.  It's that simple in my book.  The last book was the most tolerable in my mind but I threw my hands up in disgust over the big lead up to the battle that ended up not happening.  I read them all and then wished for my life back.

That being said, they were obviously not written for me.  Not my age, not my interests and....well, not anything about me.  Perhaps they are ok for a nine year old girl.  Still not sure.

My plan now is to do the mature thing and avoid the topic as long as I possibly can.  Sure,  I know she never forgets anything but I'm hoping this will be the exception.  Avoidance and denial, that's my plan!  

Until of course she does remember and then I suppose I will let her read them.  IT's books for God's sake!!  How do I say no to that?!?!?!  But ONLY if she lets me point out every time I think something stupid happens.  I'm hoping by chapter two I'll have annoyed her enough to put it down.

Maybe I should have been on Team Godfather.  At least Michael Corleone knew what to do when someone messed with his family.  Sure as hell  he didn't hide out in high school and he most assuredly did not glitter.

Weird Question Answerer

 Not sure when and I'm too lazy to look, but a while back I listed some questions that I hear that I feel normal people don't have to answer.  It was a humorous list of the issues that I deal with as a mom and I went through and listed a few silly things that seem to define my life right now.  I thought I had written  down all of the good ones.  Today when I was out-and-aboutnwith my kids I realized that no, I'm not done and I had most certainly not written about all the good ones.

I had a meeting today with another mom.  We both have our kids with us right now so we went to a place that the kids could be entertained and we could chat in relative peace.  It worked out really well but I was having such a great time chatting with a grown up and I had a hard time shutting up so we ending up chatting longer than I planned.   It such a great feeling listening to another human being talk about topics I care about and listening to what I had to say.  She never interrupted me I never had to tell her to chew her food before speaking.  It was a highlight in my life.

However my lollygagging meant that the kids had to step up, entertain themselves and not fight.  This is a lot to ask.  When we left I felt I needed to give them a thank you beyond the words - which I did offer by the way.  I praised them all for their behavior and told them how much it helped me.  I have always tried very hard not to force my kids into grown up scenarios.  Because of that when it does happen and they have to leave their world and enter mine I like to show them my gratitude.

To my kids that's either stone cold cash or McDonald's.  Maccas as it's known in Australia.  Since 1/2 of the local area was in the Maccas at that time we had a hard time finding a seat. We finally managed to procure one outside as my kids are old enough to save a seat while I wait in line.  Some parenting things really are getting easier.  Balancing two trays of food I headed out to them.  Tripping over strollers, crying toddlers and their crying moms I had to juke around the long way to get to my kids, actually coming in from behind so they didn't see me.  Connor shouts out, "Hurry up, Mom's coming, I know she's coming"  and then turns to see me standing there, "See, I told you..."    The other two are silent and Teddy pretends to be fascinated with an ashtray.

I felt no need to waste my breath and bother with the What did you Do!? line.  I've done this gig enough years to know that no one is going to tell me the truth and since there is no pulsing blood  or screaming store owner, I honestly don't care. Removing the ash try from him and ignoring whatever sin they are trying to cover up I begin to divvy up the food.

As I sit and dole out the treats which include not one, but two Despicable Me Minion toys, I ponder the events of the day.  The morning began with me refereeing 4 fights and doling out punishments, washing two loads of laundry, throwing dinner in the crockpot, schooling a 12 year old boy who THINKS he's all that in game of who has the best smack talk  and then I ended with an incredibly positive meeting with another writer about my blog writing. The afternoon was shaping up nicely.  Life is good.  I get a little lost in thought and daydream in my little world for a few minutes.  Thinking back to a time when grown ups asked my opinions about things I smile and look around at my kids.

Then I am bombarded with this pearl.

"Mummy, can I use my Minion Fart Gun again?"

Well now.  That is a large record scratching sound in my life.  If that doesn't snap me back into reality I don't know what will.  Even sadder yet is knowing that this wasn't the weirdest question I've answered this week or even this month.

As a mom that is a huge part of my life.  Answering weird questions. They come in all shapes and sizes. No topic is too bizarre and I never know what question is coming at me.  Certainly I expected that I would be answering questions like "How do you spell different?" or possibly "Why did the Americans fight back against the British?" or "Who actually uses Algebra in real life?" when I signed up for Mommy 101 but I really wasn't expecting to have to offer seemingly sincere, sane answers to weird, ridiculous questions.

Sincere answers like these:

"Yes, use the gun 3 more times, please don't have it fart at strangers, just at your brother and sister"

"No, there is no law saying you can't wear a dress to a mini golf birthday party"

"Yes actually, it normally is bad if dogs eat an entire package of gum. However in our case Satan is scared of Sasha so he isn't calling her home anytime soon"

"Toys were invented by Cavemommies who wanted 30 seconds of peace. They probably threw a stick at the kids and they played with it rather than bug her"

"I have no idea which finger Cleopatra was bitten on by the asp."

"No, Dr. House didn't treat my mother when she had a stroke.  He's a fictional character and she was a real person"

"Yes, it does matter if you try to wear the same socks and underwear 2 days in a row"

"2+2 does equal 4.  I know Daddy's shirt says it equals 5.  It's a geek joke.  Normal people aren't supposed to understand it"

"No, no one is going to pay you to level-up their video games for them"



These are just the questions I handled during lunch and the drive home.  You wouldnt believe what I dealt with the rest of the day.  I could go on.  Perhaps I will another time.  Some of these are just too bizarre to chance forgetting.  

I really want to remember this stuff at Christmas, my birthday and Mother's Day.  That way when I get asked why I like to demand expensive things I can respond with genuine sincerity, "I'm sorry, I only answer weird questions"