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Thursday, March 28, 2019

It's nearly Easter - grab your hot glue gun and get ready


It's that time of year again - the annual Easter Hat Parade.

I can almost smell the scent of my hot glue gun sizzled skin in the air....again.


I'm going to start marking time via the various little scars:

       Oh yes, that was 2014 when we attempted a giant rabbit larger than his head...

       That one?  Well that little moon shaped scar comes courtesy of 2017 when we really
       embraced the GO BIG OR GO HOME philosophy...

       Ahh yes, my favourite, the one that looks a bit like Beyonce if you squint and do a
       handstand using just your left arm (shut up, I totally could...) - that was 2011 when
       I was fresh to the Easter Hat Parade farce and really thought I knew it all...


The reality is, the hats are almost always made or bought by parents.

The kids who make their own never win - my kids haven't caught on to that fact yet.  

Each year they live in hope.

It's not that they're totally enthused by the whole idea of the festive joy that is an Easter themed event.

It's just that they want the prize.  Not for the glory, but for the CHOCOLATE.

Now, I'm not a newbie.  This isn't my first parade.  In fact, due to working at their school, I'm in charge of arranging class prizes and voting.  I know EXACTLY what the glory is worth.

$5 or less

Now that we know the less than impressive value - what is the price of said glory?

At my worst, it was around $30 per head.  With 3 children competing, I was out of pocket almost $100.  SO MANY sequins, ribbon, foam balls and rolls of packing tape...

Shudder.

One year, the price of fame was $3 per head - for a last minute Dollar Shop grab of whatever hadn't already been claimed by other half-arsed parents.  It must've been a really hectic year all round, because the parade was full of the same lame cardboard bunny ears and rabbit hats, courtesy of the now very sales-happy and rolling in cash Dollar Shop.

Last year, I was down to just two (on account of Miss13 moving on to High School where they are way. too. cool to bother with such things).

But we were all a bit over it, and so we skipped it.  

Twas a blissful year, 2018.

This year, they're back at it with a vengeance.

I don't know why.  I don't know which little bastards revved them up and got them all enthusiastic in their respective classes, but the Twin Tornado are out for blood the win, once again.

I have considered out-sourcing.  (Karen B - I'm looking at you.  You have a killer record of wins, and I'm not above begging, should I hot glue gun my digits together and be rendered utterly useless).

Now, to be clear, I'm not taking over and making their hats for them.  BUT HELLO - HOT GLUE GUN AND MISS10 - THE FAMILY SADIST.

Seriously?

I could make a mean profit taking bets on exactly how long it will take her to:

       a) accidentally singe her brother's arm/hair/leg/eyeball
       b) accidentally set the very cheap and flammable curtain on fire
       c) accidentally poke her older sister in the backside and burn a hole through her very expensive school uniform.
       d) accidentally do all of the above - because she is my child, and we all know that I was an infamous pyromaniac
       in my early years (as briefly glossed over / owned on the interverse here and here).


So, the point is - it's genetic.  And always an accident.  

Therefore, one of the tens of people reading this, think of me as I swear under my breath all weekend, supervising and trying REALLY HARD not to intervene re: the hot glue gun.

At least it will distract me from the fact that I've currently spent $23.75 for the Twin Tornado to have a shot at a $5 chocolate prize each.

And hopefully also distract my OCD tendencies (at least it's not decorating the Christmas Tree....at least it's not decorating the Christmas Tree - this shall be my OCD mantra) from taking over when Miss10 is gluing her jellybeans on and THEY AREN'T SYMMETRICAL....

All you mathematicians out there....how many bottles of vodka have I wasted on the Easter Hat Parade over the years?  

Minus the cost of just buying a $5 chocolate bunny each (and let's be honest, I'd probably go the budget, oily, no-name brand for $3 each).

I reckon I'd still be in front....







Monday, March 18, 2019

Being my best self - I'm back

You guys!

You guys...

It has been a hot minute / year and a bit.

I've been off being the best me that I can be, and shit.


Firstly, there was a little hate from some who don't recognise the life skill that I am most proud of - SARCASM.  After a few helpful messages suggesting I shouldn't be allowed to have children because of how I'm so clearly not capable of looking after them....I gave them a virtual one finger salute, and got distracted by other shiny things instead of blogging.

To be honest, my first action was to reply saying "absolutely...what time can you come and get them?"

That did not appease the trolls.

I'm still not 100% convinced it wasn't #1Nana trying to keep me on my toes with the swears on here.

Anywho - onwards and upwards...


So...to update you all on the comings and goings around these parts.

I have a teenager.  

Ugh and Argh and all other such eloquently worded statements that parents of teens universally commiserate with.

Miss13-going on 63, is about elevnteen foot tall now.  It is a struggle to do her hair, and I am now resorting to using a fetching Ikea stool that was once the potty stand for my Mister to reach and aim (purchased after far too many late night toilet breaks ending in suspiciously wet feet for yours truly...).

She's going on 63 because she is a wise old woman who knows EV-ER-EE-THING - just ask her...  She's full of wise and helpful advice to me on all things.  In fact, just yesterday we were driving through an area we don't normally visit.  She saw an Aldi supermarket and stated that she always does her grocery shopping there, on account of how competitive and cheap they were.

Well fancy that - who knew she was a closet domestic goddess who budgets and goes grocery shopping?  I must've missed all of that while begging her to make her bed / get off the iDevices / pick up her floordrobe, and all manner of other domestic duties that clearly aren't part of her grocery shopping focussed repertoire.

The Twin Tornado are still all tornado-ish, ranging between an F4 and F5 on most days.  I blame global warming.

Miss10 wants to be a Dentist, so I'm delighted someone will support our entire family.  She really just wants to have at her siblings' mouths with sharp instruments - but SEMANTICS - I have a future Doctor in the house!

Mstr10 wants to be a Lego pro.  I've told him he can totally go for that, if he agrees to first master the art of tying his shoelaces without losing his shit.  He wasn't keen to shake on it, but when I explained that nobody would take his Lego pro status seriously otherwise, he agreed.  Phew and fingers crossed.  What could possibly go wrong.

Anyway, best thing is - they are all feeding and bathing themselves, putting their own laundry away, and reading to themselves.  I feel like my job here is all but done (especially with the reading thing).  They're also usually putting themselves to bed, because I am now OLD and I fall asleep before them a lot of the time.

Trolls - you hear that?  I DON'T EVEN BOTHER PATTING THEIR BACKS TO SLEEP ANYMORE...

Also trolls, to really excite you...I had to count back - using all my finger digits - to make sure I'd correctly stated the Twin Tornado's age.  Are they 10?  Are they 11?  Who knows!

Anyway, clearly nailing the parenting still.

And also the wifing - #1Hubby is still going strong.  I still remind him just how lucky he is, on the regular.  I feel like it's obvious and is one of those things that doesn't need to be said, but far be it from me to miss the chance to remind him all the same.

Now that I'm almost done with the nurturing of offspring, I thought it was time for me to do something for me.



So I did a detox slash gut health program - Before you choke on your wine, I was far from being all my body is a temple....

I was more...wait, it's only a month and I don't have to exercise?  And I'm going to lose 10% - 15% of my body weight in that time?

SIGN. ME. UP.

For reals, because I am so lazy/allergic to exercise, I had to get someone to do the grunt work of clicking buttons to sign me up.

Low and behold - not all of these things are a hoax.  Sometimes, it really is as simple as it sounds.  

Pretty sure I'm being watched by all the Kardashian's, because clearly I'm a threat now.

Anyway, it was so awesome for my insides and my outsides, and so quick and easy, that I signed up myself on the other side of the program.

People...I am now a bona fide business person.  For reals.  And - wait for it - part of that is being a MENTOR.

I KNOW - WHO WOULDN'T WANT TO BE MENTORED BY ME!??!?

Pearls of wisdom, daily.  I'm like the gift that keeps on giving - while improving gut health and losing weight in the space of a month.

It's clearly a no brainer, and I will personally thank you all when I'm on the cover of Forbes and O Magazine for taking all the money off bazillionaire app developers and Rappers.

Listen, a girl has to work.  Nobody was throwing dollars at me to write my words of wisdom, as enjoyed by tens of internet goers over the years.  So here it is, something else I've enjoyed, that's worked for me.

It's a little bit of shameless self-promotion, I know, - but if any of you have heard of the Healthy Living / Ph@tt program - you'll know why I'm bragging!

And I'm saving for Dental school, remember.

Clickety-click if you want to know more.  Or if you just want to say hi.  Clearly I'm trying to fund a fancy new wardrobe, on account of my new slim-lined self.  #1Hubby is terrified I'm  mass purchasing bikinis via Facebook.  I told him I would only do such a thing if he agreed to a matching Mankini, since he's also cutting a sharper figure thanks to having no choice but to support me and get with the month-long program.

So it's been a crazy 18-months up in here.

I've kept them all alive and - dare I say - thriving.

I've improved myself.

But I'm still the same foul mouthed sarcastic delight that I've always been!

I've missed ranting and raving to you guys.

Stay tuned for more updates on Lego-gate (where I attempt to either Tiger-parent Mstr10 into Lego stardom, or covertly crush his dreams and distract him with a slightly more attainable career goal).



Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Losing "it"

Image Source


I'm pretty sure that I've lost "it" - my parenting mojo.

The Feral Threesome have out-grown me.

They no longer buy into all of my bullshit, and actually realise that I am not the be all and end all of the world.


If I threaten to count to 3 - they actually wait for it to happen

They have called my bluff.



MSTR 8

My beloved Mstr8 has worked out how to push my buttons.

He'll still profess undying love, and still wish out loud that I was younger / he was older, so that we could get married....just not so often, and definitely not on video.

In fact, if I think about it, he usually only whispers it to me nowadays.

And usually only after I've discovered his 'Crunch-n-sip' veg from the previous week, festering in his backpack.

Or he's been busted watching Clarence / TMNT on the iPad, under his bed, at 9pm on a school night.

Gone are the days of blowing me kisses across the playground.

My last kiss is still lingering in the breeze, unrequited.

Instead, I got some beat-boxing in return.

Yes, really.



MISS 8

Miss8 has worked out that she can pretend she can't hear me  -  in a way more mature way than my own "lalalala I can't hear youuuu" fingers in ears version that I have, until now, relied on when they ask awkward questions.

I can rant and rave, beg and plead, and her single excuse is "wait...what? Oh sorry Mum, I didn't hear you..." - and I have NO WAY OF PROVING OTHERWISE....

Despite being a people-pleaser - especially an adult-pleaser - she has worked out that there's more kudos in saving her adult-pleasing for teachers.

She's also worked out that I'm entirely embarrassing, as far as parents go.

I was all professional, work mode, at the school cross country the other week - blow me down if one of my besties (a parent volunteer), didn't have to convince me that, it was in fact my Miss8 (and not another student) coming down the straight - winning.

I completely lost my professional work persona shit and stood in the middle of the finish line, arms wide open, in full staff uniform, screaming her name....

....and she very obviously veered to the right, with a look of horror.

So I regained my staff persona and pretended I did not see her cross the finish line first, until she had to report to me for her official finishing position, and I ripped her off the ground and squeezed the living crap out of her little body.

She loved it, and she hugged me back - but only after checking that nobody else was watching...



MISS 11

As for Miss11...she is, believe it or not, the least of my worries!

We did have a rough patch with the hormonal, pre-tween attitude - but her need for me has superceded all of that.

Obviously she now gets all of the jewellery in the will, and I've advised her as much.

It's like she's won lotto, even though she isn't interested in jewellery - let alone old or wise enough to realise that I don't own anything nearly as large and sparkly as her $10 Lovisa costume jewellery.



Thank the Vodka Gods for Facebook memories....

For the first time ever, I've found myself genuinely reminiscing over Facebook "You posted this XXX years ago...." pics of the kids.

As opposed to continuing down to the latest cocktail / DIY / food / celeb post.

All that professing of unconditional love over the years has come back to bite me in the arse.

They know they've got me.  That they've got the upper hand.

This is unfamiliar territory.

I'm used to being the unquestioned centre of their everything.

Clearly, I'm going to have to work out what their kryptonite is, and regain the prized power position / unconditional love and respect.



FYI....it was their random refusal of my previously loved sneaky veg soup that actually prompted this post.

It sent me into a tail spin of reflection, on listening to their negotiations over dinner / bed times / upcoming school holidays.

They weren't remotely interested in pleasing me, listening to my firm insistence that they loved my soup and it would make them strong / healthy / awesome.



But, whatever, the point is - they are clearly turning into manipulative little a-holes (apple, tree, obviously).

And I've lost the "it" factor....I don't have IT anymore....


PS - FOUND ANOTHER WHITE EYEBROW HAIR TOO.  Insult to injury....
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