And Now for Something Completely Different

Everyone see this nifty new gorgeous pink badge to right of what you are reading right now?!!!!!   Just here?

Adorable isn't it?  I think you should click on it.  A lot.  Daily.  Here's why.

Today I received this email.

Hi Cecelia,

Your blog Knee Deep in Down Under has been nominated to the Top 25 Australian Moms - 2013 list on Circle of Moms!

Our Top 25 program honors great mom bloggers. The final list will be published and promoted on Circle of Moms as well as through our social media channels. It's a great opportunity to reach our audience of six million moms and take the first step towards becoming a contributor to our editorial hub.

If you'd like to participate, you can claim your blog and add your image or logo here and complete your blogger profile. Then ask your fans to vote by posting this badge to your blog:

(I deleted this middle part because honestly, do you care about HTML code?  Yea, me either)

Don't forget to let your Twitter followers and Facebook fans know they can vote for you once a day until September 19, 2013.

We're a big fan of your blog and would love to get your work in front of our readers. Please let me know if you have any questions.

Warmly,

Julie and the Circle of Moms team

P.S. - And if other questions come up about the Top 25 program, you may find these FAQs helpful.

--

Julie & the Circle of Moms team

e: top25@circleofmoms.com

__________________________________________________________________________________________

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Sorry, I got a little excited there.  I can not even see straight right now.  I harbour no illusions about actually winning a place on the list,  but I am honestly over the moon at being given the chance. Really, this isn't one of those false modesty, please validate me moments.  Truthfully, I find it shocking when someone tells me they've read my blog - unless they are related to m or I've babysat their kids, then they bloody well can read it!

I haven't been this excited since I found out Bon Jovi was coming to Australia in a few months.  

This . is . HUGE!

Voting ends September 19th.  Please consider voting for me.  If I win you will have my undying love and affection.  Sure, you'll still have that if I lose but won't it be sweeter to have the love of a slightly famous person?  

I think so.

Combination Punch of Life Lessons

Normally when you witness an event so impressive that you call it a Life Lesson you get time to mentally process what's happened, reflect upon and decide how it will impact your life and move on.  Today my girls and I got hit with three of the suckers within about 2 hours.  We are all reeling a bit so I'm writing it all down in one fell swoop so hopefully someday we call all have the time we need to process all of it.  Most importantly, I want to make sure we all learn from them.

Today my Tessi went to Zone for her school.  Australian schools have sports and swimming annual carnivals.  The the top two kids in each race go compete at Zone against kids who did equally well at their schools.  Since there hasn't been a School Zone Carnival for Biggest Mood Swing, Highest Pitch of  Ear Piercing Screech, # of Continuous Hours playing Xbox or Longest Single Duration of Sock Wearing, none of my kids have ever gone to Zone.

Except this year.  Tessi has gone twice for running events.  She is insanely fast for chick whose last name is Tencza.   We're more known for our brute force abilities, skills of manipulation and warfare and dare I say it... deception and chicanery.  We all kind of like that obnoxious phrase, "I don't hurry, I make OTHERS hurry." Running fast ourselves?  Eh, not so much.  

Despite our previous track record here I find myself, at a sports carnival early in the morning.  Earlier than the rest of our school since our note said Tessi was running in the 800, 100 and 200 meter races and the 800 racers needed to be there early.  Marvy.

As luck would have it,  Connor is with us because she is still sick as a dog and couldn't go to school. When you have more than one kid you must quickly learn that sacrifices must be made.  Sometimes one child must be given up for another. One child has a bad cold but wasn't dying.  Another child is the youngest of three and always feels like her siblings get the better of her.  Sorry Connor, your turn in the barrel today.  Here's a tissue.

Turns out I needed more than tissues.  Upon arrival we found out that Tessi wasn't in the 800 race.  There was a huge confusion and forms with names flew all over the place.  Finally the rest of our school arrived and I was able to grab hold of the teacher who runs all these events.  I check with him and discover that Tessi was given the wrong note.  Yep.  Special trip out there with a sick kid and Tessi was planning on racing 3 times.  Turns out all she is doing is one race.  

I was less than amused but there really was no one to yell at.  The teacher who handed out the notes wasn't there.  Even if he was, he's a full time teacher for the troubled kids class at our school who got handed this extra duty ON TOP of everything else he's doing.  He's not incompetent, he's overworked.  I'm gonna tear him a new one?  No, I'm not.  However, I am the one about about to get a new one torn because I get to tell Tessi that she can only do one race.

Dreading Life, I walked up and pulled her close and explained what happened.  She was crushed as she really wanted to show everyone how fast she is.  But she stood there, listened to everything I said, held herself together, said it was alright and ran off to play with her friends.  Later on, after she ran her race, she wished she could have run more but was happy to run for her school.  Then she hugged and thanked me for letting her come to Zone.   She's eight, has severe trouble regulating her emotions, and handled that better than I could have ever expected.  I thought I would never see behavior so impressive again.  However, I was wrong.

For the 800m race we had one of our school speed demons participate.  He is lightening in a bottle.  His winning or at least getting 2nd place was a given.   The boys lined up and I stopped paying attention. The the gun rang out and at the first turn, he fell.  He was down on the ground for a good 10 seconds as the rest of the racers took off without him.  He was done.  It was over for him.

Except it wasn't.  Not for him.  Instead of walking off of the field, he rose up off of the ground and continued to run the race.  I watched him slowly close a humongous gap and join the pack of runners.  Unable to look away, I cheered stupid loud as he not only kept up with the racers but managed to finish ahead of at least three or four others.   

That's right....three or four very good athletes ran that race well and crossed the finish line AFTER the kid who fell.  I couldn't tell you anything about the kids who came in first, second or third because none of them were more thrilling to watch than this young man who finished near the end.  I don't say this often, but it was a privilege to watch him.  I spent quite a few minutes chewing the ear of the supervising teacher who had missed the race.  He should know what a magnificent kid our school had representing it.  I hope the whole school knows it.

I am generally one of the most cynical, jaded human beings you will ever meet.  Today I saw some of  the finest displays of courage, determination and simply good sportsmanship that I have ever seen.  I was in awe and humbled. 

Immediately after her race I took the girls and left.  Normally Tessi would stay to cheer on her school but Connor really needed to be home.  I was so proud of Tessi that I offered her ice cream at McDonald's, known in OZ as Maccas.  Waiting in line at the drive through we got our third learning moment of the day.

In front of me a woman lost her . ever . loving . mind . because......wait for it.....there was too much sauce on her hamburger.  I am painfully aware of the improper sauce to bun ratio because from her car, she threw the hamburger back out the window at the kid in the drive thru and screamed bloody murder.  She carried on and on, demanding a manager, waving her arms like a windmill and ranting about the sauce, oh, dear god, the sauce.  

Connor became very upset as she does not like confrontation and begged me to roll the window up.  Tessi kept asking if that was a kid or a mom acting like that.  Shamefully I had to admit it was a mom....I could see the car seats in her car.  This woman screamed and rallied for a good five minutes, backing up the line down and out behind me.  After she was done spewing her venom she stormed off and it was my turn to drive up to the counter.  I told the girl at the counter to take a deep breath and that she was ok, everything was going to be alright.  The poor girl was barely in her twenties...IF that.  That miserable sow in the car was shoving 40 awfully hard and she had a hissy fit at a kid she could have once babysat for.  There are words profane enough to describe this woman's behavior accurately but as I've said, my mother-in-law reads this blog.

The entire car ride home we discussed nasty people and how some people feel just too important for their own good.  My girls listed all things someone should say if their order gets messed up and very reproachfully said that yelling and throwing food was NOT the solution.  They were horrified that a grown up would do that.  I said she may have been an adult but she certainly was NOT grown up.  Tessi stated that the woman in the car deserved to get nothing from Maccas ever again!  It was the worst punishment she could think to inflict.

 

All of this occurred before noon today.  The three of us are still blinking hard and looking around each other slowly.  I'll be honest.  I'm glad we are home for the day.  

To the "lady" in the silver station wagon Peugeot at Maccas in Thornleigh drive-thru around 11:30am: I know we all have tough times but WOW.  You have issues. I am so grateful I didn't see your kids in the car with you, please calm down before you see them again.

To the gorgeous children who participated in Zone today: thank you.  Thank you for reminding me how beautiful human beings can be and allowing me to share in your day.  I am so proud of all of you.

Super Hero Knickers & Squirrels

 One of the incredibly cool thing about having kids is that the most insane, bizarre and dare I say, absurd conversations are perfectly normal in their minds.  My daughter Tessi brought me breakfast in bed this morning. Together she and I enjoyed a twenty minute discussion about different superheroes and tried to list which ones wore their undies on the outside of their pants.  Soon it was too boring simply just to list them as there were a surprisingly large amount of them. We then chose torank them  in order of our approval of their cool powers versus the "creep out" factor of seeing them in their knickers.  We agreed that while be both really like Batman, his outside underwear really bothered us.  

For the sake of this discussion you should know that Tessi has only seen the Adam West Batman and none of the more recent movies.  This is mainly because I am unwillingly to explain the word codpiece to her just yet. I don't mind her knowing about codpieces.  I am simply uninterested in answering questions about her using codpieces for News Day in her class.  She has a wonderfully understanding teacher, but let's be honest with each other, there are limits.

Discussing Batman and his unmentionables of course led to directly to a discussion of Batgirl. We decided that Batgirl completely ruled the known universe because obviously she was going commando. It is a known fact that knickers show unseemly panty lines under a body suit.  We didn't have time to bring the villians factor into the conversation as we both had to get dressed. I'm confident though, that if we did, we could have spent the entire morning critiquing the benefits of Catwoman and Poison Ivy's ensembles. 

I love these conversations because they let me express all the weirdness that I keep bottled up inside.  Sure, I do have close friends with whom I can share unusual thoughts.  Sadly though, even with the most understanding of them, after a while you can see the shade of uncertainty slip down over their eyes.  You can see that fleeting light in their eyes at the exact moment they start to question our entire conversation.  "Wait, she was joking right?  No one actually wonders if Princess Leia hid the plans in one of her hair buns and the whole time R2 D2 having them was just a decoy?"  A quick flinch to jot their brain and remind themselves that, "This isn't a real conversation.  No one seriously discusses the evolution of pizza delivery throughout the galaxy!" 

Yeah...um...sure.  HA, HA. Of course, it's just a joke. It goes without saying that  I have never, ever spent an afternoon guessing how squirrels would fare if forced to become stenographers.  For the record, I think they would be fine as the machine used isn't that terribly wide at all.  I think the biggest problem to overcome would be their problems translating homenyms into their chirpy bird-like language to the machine's limited stroke language and then back to English.  Also I think they would be disturbed when the lawyers chair squeaks. The competing sound must be murder on them.

This is where the true beauty of childhood comes into play.  Children have no such disdain for the absurd.  They not only accept and embrace it; they pick it up and run through the endzone with it.  Only a kid will listen to you lament the lack of available time travel machines and counter with a plan to build one. Give them a few extra minutes and some glitter pens and they will plans ready for beta testing before the last cookie is gone.

Some adults like to muse that this is the innocence of the child at work. The purity of youth and its lack of confinements.  Blah Blah. Personally I think that its proof that we all start out bat-crap crazy and the childhood is just a long drawn out process trying to explain, teach, correct or beat the crazy out of us. Clearly my parents failed to wring out all the drops of lunacy in me..hence my joy in weird things. 

I once had a friend's very articulate three year old tell about his plans to create a wall out of M&M's. I casually mentioned that gravity might be a problem and asked how would he ensure the stability of the wall. He announced than he knew candies fell so he was using his spit to hold the M&M's together. He grabbed his older siblings Barbie doll and used the body to support the candy until the spit dried.  As I was impressed, I praised him and offered the use of my hair scrunchie in his project.  It was all I had to give him.   Being unencumbered as he was by silly notions of practicality he took it. With a smile he propped it up against the spit candy wall like a tire.  We both left the scene feeling important and a part of something bigger and more important than ourselves.

Cherish the weirdness, even if you don't have kids.  It's the weirdness that keeps life interesting. Anyone can talk about why trees are green or how many servings of fruit a day one human being should have to stay healthy.  It takes a special mind to carry on a conversation about spit M&M walls or the knickers of superheroes. You can decide for yourself if its the mind of a child or a crazy person.

A New Design for Tonight

I finally gave up and took one of Bloggers designs and tweaked it a bit.  I think it's a bit RED but after 40 or so minutes looking at this drivel I am surrendering.  Also, dinner is ready.  Plus several kind people have shared with me that they never see the proper blog anyway, they just read the plain text on their RSS feeds.

Their loss.  If you look past the VERY RED BACKGROUND you can see a beautiful picture of the Opera House taken last year during the Vivid festival.  My friend Maerie McCruddon  took the picture and has very graciously allowed me to use it.

Enjoy!

I'll most likely change the RED by morning.  It's already annoying me.

Changing Today's Game Plan

Today is a day off of work for me.  Just in time though as I think my calf muscles were about to shred themselves.  My son brought home a nasty cold at the beginning of the week and I've been sprinkling holy water around him to keep the germs at bay.  Eventually I lost the fight and woke up this morning with the plague.

Since I'm sick that means I am only taking the
girls to school,
dog to the vet,
verifying my identity at Australia Post so I can open a bank account,
pick up Tessi,
take Teddy to dentist,
cook dinner.

I'm skipping the laundry, the dishes in the sink, the grocery and pet food store.

Ted has very kindly (no seriously, no sarcasm) offered to come home a little early so he can pick up Connor at Kids Club and save the remains of dinner after I start it and screw it up.  Actually he just said he would take over cooking dinner when he gets home but I believe in honesty and that's what he's really be doing.

I completed my morning tasks and rather than being a mature responsible person and laying on the bed so I can rest and recover I decided to have some computer fun.  I've covered myself with a blankie so I'm counting this as rest time.  Sitting at the desk I get both computers (We're geeks remember?  We have two computers next to each other) running the the websites I need when I notice that the monitor on the main computer isn't working.  Hmmm.  I do the traditional computer fix all - shut up and reboot - but the problem isn't solved.

Now we are at the stage of computer home troubleshooting I don't like.  I have to get on my hands and knees and look under the computer desk to check wires and hook ups.

Hard floor + angry calves ( bad back + crappy knees) /need to look up new blog designs = ability to move.

Math is ugly my friends.  This is one of Life's Truths.

It takes me a few minutes but I hunker down underneath the desk and dive into the wires.  Turns out that the cable got pulled out of the back of the computer.  Hmm, that's odd, it's one of those screw in ones; it shouldn't just fall out on it's own. Someone would have had to seriously jiggled it.

I turn my head and I'm inches away from the Jiggler.  Monty cat was hiding under the desk killing hair elastics and must have kicked the cord out.  That's not too bad.  What was unfortunate was that neither Monty nor I were expecting to see each other under the desk.  The initial surprise, shock and horror led to screeching, backpedaling, and crying. As well as the flinging of cables, computers and my head into the underside of the desk.

Great, now my head hurts, the cat is mewing this God-awful growling/warning cry and now both damn monitors aren't working.

I'll be honest.  I got up only with the intention of walking out, shutting the door and leaving the whole mess for Ted to deal with in 8 or 9 hours.  I really wanted to play on the computer though.  I have been virtual window shopping and am looking for a new iPad cover and a nice "Carry All My Crap to Work" bag.  I want to see it all on the big monitor.  Plus God knows what that crazy cat would do shut up in the room.  So I straightened myself up, checked my head for blood and went back under the desk.  I found both plugs and put them back in.  Even managed to get them to the right computers....the second time.  All good.  My knees were starting to swear viciously at me but I needed to check another power cord located right in the middle.  I swiveled around and once more, there's Monty in my face.  I kept cool and collected this time and pulled straight back before rising.  I did not want another whack on the top of my head.  What I failed to remember was computer chair sitting right behind me.

As I pulled back I drove my ass straight into the seat of the chair, scaring me so I straightened up and drove the bridge of my nose into the bridge of the desk.  Blood starts slowly trickling down my face.  I'm not to proud to admit that I said some very impressive and incredibly foul and obscene words.  Combinations of phrases that I think would offend people on at least three different continents.

Since I am a whiny cry baby I immediately begin moaning that I've broken my nose.  I am also exceptionally manipulative and opportunistic, so I quickly rationalize that no one can expect me to cook dinner if my nose is broken.  I gingerly touch my nose and see that the blood isn't coming my nostrils.  I crawl to the bathroom and look in the mirror.  Damn it.  My nose isn't broken.  The desk forced my glasses into my nose and cut it.  The blood is already starting to congeal.  I am perfectly fine to cook dinner.

Sitting on the bathroom floor with a sore head, throbbing yet-unbroken nose, pained knees,  back spasms, sore buttocks and of course, the damn sore calf muscles I look up....and there's Monty.  He's perched on top of the pool table, where he's not allowed, staring at me.  In my haze of pain I'm sure I saw him shake his head in disgust at me.  I looked around for something to throw at him. Sadly, the bloody tissues just weren't aerodynamic enough to make the impact I needed.

Twenty minutes later, I'm back at the computer typing this post.  When it's finished I'm going to start my day off again as I should have originally.  Hiding on the couch under the blankets as long as I can.

Video Didn't Kill this Hollywood Star

In spite of today's world of instant information, living halfway around the world from most of the headline makers still means some sort of delay in hearing things.  It usually takes me at least a day, maybe more, to hear about the latest Hollywood news coming out of the US. Personally that delay works just fine with me.  In all honestly, I could care less if Snooki marries a Kardashian from one of the Housewives shows while on a tropical photo shoot. The Royal baby, Obama's dog, Sean Penn's latest Chilean cause..none of them rate high enough to get me to click on the link to read more about it.  I'm not judging those who do watch, I am just saying that I could not care less if I physically tried.

More often then not, I have no earthly idea who is in or out. I only watch shows because I like them...not because of a newsworthy scandal   I honestly admit that I only know who Ryan Gosling is because of Pinterest. Even then I have to add that Pinterest is the ONLY place I know him from.  I'm fine with that. My brain is occupied with more important bits of data.  My children's birthdays, how many loads of laundry I need to do per day to keep us all in knickers and socks, the future birthplace of James Tiberius Kirk, and most of all the release date of Star Trek Into Darkness.  You know...the essentials.  

This morning I was reading Facebook and I saw a shared link to a televised awards show speech given a few days ago.   There was a video of Ashton Kutchner on some teen awards show.  It should be fairly obvious that I glossed over it immediately and scrolled down to George Takei's post. A day without Takei is like a day without sunshine to me.  No Hollywood pretty boy is going to disturb my fascination with a hilarious gay septuagenarian champion of geeks and scathing maligner of morons. Not happening.

After my daily devotional I noticed a few more friends were sharing the awards video and some were making some very positive comments about it.  Intrigued, I decided to watch the video.  Replace the word intrigued with the phrase wanting to stay in bed another few minutes and that is a slightly more accurate portrayal of my justification for watching the video. It was 6:30 in the morning and no one had posted any video of cute kittens. Leave me alone.

Watching this video was literally eye-opening as I had started to doze off again.  I'm glad I woke back up for it. This time there actually was something worth watching.  This is a speech I wish I had heard as a teen.  It's a speech I'm going to have my kids watch.  This isn't some vapid Hollywood pretty boy accepting teen praise with a bored voice.  He actually said something important, something that mattered.

I'm paraphrasing here but essentially his speech boiled down to this: Opportunities come from work.  The sexiest trait a human can have is intelligence.  Everything else is a marketing ploy.  People who tell you how the world must be are no smarter than you; you decide what your world should be.

This is most interesting and important video short to come out of Hollywood in many years. Never fear though, I haven't drunk so much of the cool-aid that I don't realize that Ashton has a movie coming out to shill for and I only put the odds at 50/50 that it wasn't an act for show. No such thing as bad press and Mr. Kutchner is superb at manipulating social media.  In this case though, I don't care if it was fake or not.  His words reflect honestly what I believe to be true.  It was a beautiful display of celebrating honor, intelligence and not meekly taking what is handed to you.

Are you listening Hollywood, Entertainment and Media outlets?  More of this, less of Snookied Kardashians.

And to you Chris Kutchner, whatever your were reasons for speaking up, I thank you.  It was nice to finally care about something I saw about a famous person. Other than George Takei of course.  He's a given.

Ups and Downs of Commuting

 As I posted last week I have returned to the world of gainful employment. Just part time, as my family and my brain can't handle full time yet.

Since this is my first foray into an Australian work environment I want to document for posterity's sake the differnces between working Down Under and the 'Ole US of A.  As you can well imagine, there were things that were exactly the same and some things so utterly different that my head is still spinning a bit. Some of them are a bit time consuming so I think this week we will make them a series of postings.

Today I would like to share a tale of commuting....Aussie style.  Australians have a significantly different definition of the term walking distance than I, and I dare say most reasonable bipedal creatures do.  My commute by train isn't that bad but the walk from the train station to the office is a little beyond the pale in my book.

To an Australian one takes the train into the city, exits the station and has a walk up a bit of a hill.  To the rest of us mere mortals one takes the train in, fights with fellow crazed commuters trying to exit one of the 1200 egresses from the main station. As soon as you break free and stop tripping over homeless people and uni students screaming about some damn cause you've never heard of you begin your walk.  And you continue to walk until death is eminent. Vomiting is optional and is always preferable to occur prior to entering the building.  Exercising the pre-building entering vomiting option is to help you attempt to save a tiny amount of pride.  

I realize that it doesn't sound like that much pride is being saved. I agree...until you notice the giggles of the cool people bounding up the stairs to your floor while you are furiously punching the elevator/lift button to go up one one floor.   That's right, I take the elevator up one flight.  Judge all you want.  Take a gander at this picture.

 
                                          
    

This morning I stopped so I could attempt to shove my lungs back inside my body. Also I needed to try and negotiate a peace treaty with my calf muscles.  During last week's Tour de France impersonation the calves just intramuscularly screamed YOU SUCK! WE HATE YOU!!  Today they revolted completely. From the beginning of the first incline they snorted NOPE at me and left me struggling to pick up my legs.  I looked like Neil Armstong walking on the moon as each leg up and down motion had to plotted and planned out. 

I very cleverly disguised my shame by pretending to take a tourist picture.  Last week I pretended to check Google Maps on my phone, this week my inner Annie Leibowitz needed to take artistic photos.  Next week I will fake answering an emergency text.  If I still can't make it up without stopping after that I may end up trying to perform CPR on some helpless stranger. At least then I'll get to rest on the ground.

Taking the useless picture lets me try to wrestle some sympathy from my friends. The American ones, my rotten Aussie friends are just laughing at my "little troubles."

Americans please, look closely at the picture. If you follow the road all the way up to the top of this hill, just above where you see the lunatic pedestrian crossing illegally that is almost exactly 1/2 way up the hill to my office.

That's right people, I'm stopping 1/2 way to the 1/2 way point in my walk.  Know what the best part is?  There are three main streets I can take to get to the office and this particular road you see here is the flattest one.  Yes, this is the easy one. I use the really steep hill for the walk down to the train.  I'm hoping I trip and fall one day so I make it to the station in under three minutes.

So yeah, I take pride in not throwing up. It's not much, but it's all I've got.

 

If You Have to Ask...

Redundant

As defined by Miriam-Webster: a : exceeding what is necessary or normal : superfluous

b : characterized by or containing an excess; specifically :using more words than necessary

c : characterized by similarity or repetition redundant brick buildings

Redundant daily sentences and phrases in my life.

1.   How many times do I have to....

2.   Why?  You mean other than because I flippin' said so?

3.   Why, in the name of all that is holy, do you....

4.   No, you can't have....

5.   Why is there a Diet Coke can in the bathroom cabinet?

6.   How hard is it to....

7.   How could you possibly think that would work?

8.   Why do you ask...what did you do?

9.   Do you have any notes for me?

10.  Why didn't you hand this note to me yesterday?

11.  Of course not, what...are you new?
12.  Who wrote "Only Donuts" on the menu planner?
13.  Do you really need me to settle this argument?

Redundant daily responses that are in my life.

1.   I would have thought the laws of Physics would have stopped that....

2.   Yes, I'm his mother.  He's sorry and if he isn't, I promise he soon will be.

3.   I don't know, wherever you last put them.

4.   Don't eat that!  It's beyond the 3 second rule.

5.   Stop talking, eat your dinner.

5.   No

6.   Don't let your friends write on your shirt.

7.   Tie your shoes.

8.   Find your jumper in Lost and Found

9.   No

10.  Stop sleeping on your pile of clean clothes.
11.  Change out of your clothes at least every 24 hours.
12.  Yes, as soon as I'm dead.
13.  Look with your eyes, not your hands.

This is why mothers get the bad rap of being uneducated or uninteresting.  We have about 25 or so sentences that come out of our mouths every.  single.  day.  These phrases can be repeated in upwards of five or six times every.  single.  day.  

Who can possibly sound charming, witty or alluring when vomiting this same chorus all the time?  
Not me.  Not anyone I know.

Hell, I just bored myself typing this drivel.  It's not motherhood's fault though.  As any good educator and Dora the Explorer will tell you, repetition is the cornerstone of education. Tiny little minds need to hear things over and over before it sinks in.  We are solidifying the foundation upon which our personal minions are building their lives.  

Unless of course then they are emotionally invested in the topic.  When that happens they cotton on miraculously quick and turn into savants of understanding.

Whisper these phrases and see what happens.

1.  Ice cream, who wants ice cream?

2.  Santa was here.

3.  Crud, I made too many cupcakes.

4.  I have a gift card to Target.

5.  Skylanders, I have new Skylanders.

6.  Anyone lose $20?
7.  You're right, it is all her/his fault.  I will go punish her/him now.  Wanna watch?

Whisper those phrases ONCE while flying around in a tornado, and my kids will catapult themselves out of their respective shelters; each trying to knock the other out of the way to get to the winnings.

Clearly I need to rethink the type of redundant phrases used around here.

Those About to Commute, We Salute You

I'm about to (gulp) go back to work at a paying job.  In an office.  With other GROWN UPS.   Part time, freelance stuff but its big news to me. Today I attempt to begin working as a website tester.  I will be working with people for whom Thinkgeek.com is their Target or Walmart. These people think the 2+2=5 tshirt isn't a mistake.

Me. House Frau Extraordinaire. Geek Mom Extreme. Professional Taxi Service Driver and Creator of Inedible Home Cooking.  

Clearly this is a collossal change for my family.  My husband is thrilled; I think the burden of being sole breadwinner has been too long on his shoulders. My son is actually almost smiling, dreaming of days during the week when he can return to an empty house and enjoy unfettered access to the pantry and Xbox. My girls giggle constantly at the thought of going to After School Care to play with their friends three days a week.  Connor has contrived a working plan on how best to spend my pay checks. She doesn't do much fraction work yet at school but already has divided my income into Skylanders, Warrior Cats books and lip gloss sections.  What about me? What are my thoughts on the whole matter?

ACK!!!  Jesus, Mary and Joseph....what am I thinking?!?!?  Change is bad, BAD!!  Haven't I learned that already?!  What is it my kids been screaming for years...WE DON'T LIKE CHANGE.

I'm absolutely terified in case my meaning was a bit vague.

This big change is my choice.  I didn't look for the job, it sort of fell in my lap. I saw a posting on Twitter and just casually asked about it and a few tweets later I had a job interview.  I went to the interview thinking I didn't have a chance...after all these people are real geeks. They walk the walk and talk the talk.  I really didn't want to come accross as a poseur so I  tried not act like I knew more geek then I did.  I left the interview thinking no joy. And just as in the movies, that nonchalance seemed to do the trick.  Apparently they didn't mind my 156 month absence from an office and now I am employed. Never again will I ever have such an easy transition into a job. 

I think that's what is making me so nervous.  I'm a fairly pessimistic person who has seen a good share of Life's unpleasantness up close.  That has taught me to not be shocked when bad things happen.  It's not a particularly positive way to go through life but I think it's practical.  I'm not just simply a glass half-empty type of gal, I usually find that the glass is half filled with poisoned swamp water.  It's when the stars do line up in my favor that I tend to be wary.  When the heavens shine from above on top of that I practically get heart palpitations.  I just don't expect good things to fall in my lap.

Many syrupy cheerful types are tsk-tsking right now and saying that I am bringing the negative into my life and that's why bad things happen.  That's one way of looking at it. Personally, I think they are full of it. I can not see how me preparing for the worst physically invites bad inks to happen. I like to think of myself as realistic. 

 It is within one week of being exactly thirteen years since my pregnant self waddled out of an office and collapsed head first into Motherhood. The last time I filled out a time sheet there was a computer at my desk but not a very good one. I think my iPad has more memory than my old Dell pc.  I had a cell phone in my purse but we had just signed up for it because Ted didn't like me driving around alone while pregnant and not having a way to call for help. It certainly wasn't the precious smart phone I cradle in my hand lovingly today.  There was actually a typewriter in the office then.  Now I will be working with people who have never even seen a typewriter.  Not to mention that my last office was in Austin, Texas USA. Tomorrow I work with Australians.  People who hate know-it-alls and swear freely in the office. Geek Aussies who wear jeans and funny tshirts to work. People who drink tea.

Hmmmmm, maybe it's going to be alright after all. Wish me luck!

Morning History Lesson

 Mornings and I are not close friends. By not not close friends, I mean we are like warring school yard moms. We spit daggers at each other at pick-up but both are too well-bred to throw the first punch. I wake up hating everyone in the world and about twenty minutes later I magically care about the people in my immediate surroundings.

 I come by my feelings of morning hatred naturally. My mother did not wake up well and along with her crappy eye-sight she handed down to me me her inability to process data first thing. Interestingly enough, my father is a hap.hap.hap.happy morning person. I did not get his Rise and Shine abilities. In fact he is so annoying about his joy when my parents were first married my mother contemplated either leaving him or killing him. Since she loved him, she decided to take one for the team and get out of bed thirty minutes before him. This gave her enough time wake up to a level that she could stand seeing the site of him without stabbing his eyes out.

Clearly my mother was a much nicer person than I am because I'm not getting up one second before I have to. Everyone forced to be around me in the morning must learn to leave me the Hell alone. If you don't, that's your fault. It's not that difficult; I don't come out with fists flying and snarling. I just can't think very well and need time to ease into the Land of the Living. Don't jack with me and you should make it out the door with your arm hairs intact.

Having kids has put a fair amount of strain on me in the mornings. It's stressful but I've been working on everyone for a few years now and even my youngest repeats the phrase, "Don't talk to Mommy until she's had her tea." It's been working well for us. The problem comes when one of the kids becomes so overwhelmed with ideas racing in their brain that the words simply explode out of their mouths and they can't stop themselves. 

At least that is what I tell myself. I really can't believe something I gave birth to would be stupid enough to get in my face on purpose. So I cling to the dream that its beyond their control and work on developing new ways to keep my fingers from clenching around their throats. That right there is the sign of the exsistence of maternal love. Not baking cookies, or loving every.single.thing.they.do. It's not killing them outright when they don't leave you alone in the mornings.

The rest of the day I am ok with the questions. This is what parenting is all about: kids needing to learn and me being here to answer those questions and teaching them figure out how to handle the world. Now that the kids are older I am actually enjoying discussions about the differences in religions, a series versus a parrallel circuit, how to unload a file from a memory stick and put it in the right folder and when did the Mongols rule China. I've been waiting twenty some years to answer, "I dunno, I just work here." 

Please.  Just...not first thing in the morning.

Parenting means sacrificing for you kids, I get that. I stopped smoking so I could get pregnant, money for new shoes goes to the kids and I keep mine for several years. My dream of owning a touring motorcycle and traveling Australia is on hold until after the last kid graduates college. I know. But does that mean that I can not carve few minutes out of the day in the morning to myself? A few precious minutes where I check the news on my iPad, sip a hot caffeinated beverage and slowly remember how to spell my name?   Is it so wrong for a parent to say, "No. Not now, Baby. If you don't leave Mommy alone I'm going to stab your eyes out with a glue stick."

Yes, it would seem that asking that is too much. Everyone morning the mantra "Don't talk to Mommy until she's had her tea." is spoken and yet within seconds the questions start a full frontal assault. 

Todays's verbal offensive came before I poured the milk in my tea. "Mummy, how many sisters did Cleopatra have?" 

WARNING: this is a trick. Connor is studying Ancient Egypt in class and already knows the answer. She wants me to guess wrong so she can show how right she is. Knowing that she is delibertly trying to set me up for a fall, I takea small sip of tea, sit back and let her have it right between the eyes.

I tell her three sisters, two older and one younger. "But why did she get the throne if she had older sistes?" She counters, not willing to be beaten so quickly. "The older two died while their father was still alive and on the throne. Therefore Cleopatra was the oldest surving sister." Connor's mouth curled up first with shock, then snarled with anger.

"BOO YA! IN YOUR FACE! I win Baby!"

I may be brain dead and not sure if its winter or summer, but I still remember my Ancient Egyptian stuff. Mainly beacuse its useless to me in a job interview. Important information like where my keys are, remembering to keep an umbrella in my car or how many eggs to use in a cake are stored deep in the bowels of my brain, not easily accessed. But ask me about canopic jars, purification rituals or the importance of the annual flooding of the Nile River and I pull the most amazing and interesting facts right out thin air. Hello.... remember Geek Mom? I wasn't joking about that.

Unfortunately for Connor it's too early in the morning for me to remember self contol and to censer myself. This leads to more than a little butt-wiggling, an impressivly complex victory dance, some finger-pointing and a rather significant Bronx Cheer.

She storms off and I return to drowning my sorrows in my tea in quiet...which is all I wanted.

I know.....not my best mature parenting moment. I recognize that this was not the best way to nurture my child and encourage her interest in knowledge. As soon as I wake up I'm sure I'll feel bad about it. Until then, let this be a lesson for one and all.  

Don't talk to me before I've had my tea.