Bali adventures Part 1 - Siesta's all round!

We are now a week into our Bali holiday, and have enjoyed a few days of Nanny freedom from the terrible twosome to sufficiently unknot my usually hunched shoulder muscles, unclench my normally stoically set jaw, and even let out the odd relaxed sigh and smile.

Just to clarify - I do actually see my children while on holiday.  We just ensure we have our family time completed and out of the way by 1pm when my favouritest person in the world comes in to take over with the feral twosome - Tinah, the Nanny who I love more intensely than the Hubby when I first see her walking down the path towards us.  My heart really does skip a beat.  Looking forward to our afternoons and evenings being spent like normal people - not toddler wrangling - is what gets us through the rest of the year when we are fighting the good fight to sanely and calmly control our feral kids.

Anyway...on to the important facts.  I've been having a daily siesta!  I'm smirking like the proverbial cat that got the cream as I type that - from the comfort of my hotel verandah, overlooking the pool (well...overlooking the pool towel dispensary, which is next to the pool), Mojito in hand.  And it's not my first.  Jealous yet?  I'm sending my chilled vibes and sincerest thoughts out to all the Mothers who are stuck with their kids while I'm living the life of a carefree adult (no, I didn't forget one - Miss5 is with her grandparents in the pool).

Merry Christmas - Bali style

I come to you, Christmas night, from the restaurant/bar/lobby of my hotel in Bali.  The twins are asleep, thanks to the lovely Nanny.  Miss5 is watching the same episode of American Dad that she's watched non-stop since we arrived. Hubby is on the balcony enjoying a few local beers.  There are fireworks going off in the distance.  The rest of the family are in the pool or at the bar.  THIS IS BLISS.

Fitting of a Christmas post (albeit Boxing Day), I shall recap my first Balinese Christmas....try not to be too jealous, as you attempt to recover from slaving over a hot feast all day, wrangling your kids, and cleaning up the associated mess from both.

My day started at 8:30am.  Unlike the 5am start of many kids who are excited to find what Santa has left them - Miss5 finally rose at 8:30am because we had completely tired her out the night before, dancing up a storm at a restaurant.  Hubby and I were on the verge of banging cupboards in an attempt to wake her.  The twins finally woke at 9:30am.  That's right...9:30am.  This is normal for them in Bali.  You can see why I love this place more than my own home.

Clear for take off...

Today I did a stupid, stupid thing.  Which is not a unique statement for me to make on any given day.  Except that this time, I walked straight into it, planned it in advance, knew exactly what I was getting myself into.  And still did it.

I write to you from balmy, tropical, cocktail-infused...and most importantly...NANNY-occupied...Bali.  My family have landed for a Christmas with a difference - at least for my Mum and I - one where we get to step back, have a break, relax, let someone else do all the work.  For my Hubby, Dad and Brother, it's actually no different to any other Christmas, except for the location.

Today I flew - without Hubby - with all 3 kids.  The twins are almost 2, in fact they will turn 2 while we're here.  Since they are under 2 today, they flew without their own designated seats.  Which is ok and totally do-able for a mere 3 1/2 hour flight.  Not so much when they both fight over the one parent in attendance, and play musical laps, bouncing from grandmother to mother to sister, all in the hope of staying on Mum's lap for more than 5 seconds before their sibling shoves them off.  I think my stomach and thighs (both of generous proprtions) have PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

What must the neighbours think?!

I live in a townhouse.  Not in a trendy inner-city way.  In a can't afford my own family home so still living on the parents' coat tails way.  My brother lives in the townhouse in front of me (except he actually did move out of home, and he owns his).

Originally, it was one of the only townhouses on the street.  Large blocks with older houses and large back yards meant plenty of distance between me and the neighbours.  Over the past 5-10 years that's all changed, and houses have gone down, units and townhouses have gone up.  Right on the fence line.

I have a neighbour over my back fence who you wouldn't know was ever home.  He never makes any noise.  Except when his girlfriend comes to stay, and does her very best B Grade porn star impersonation.  To say she has a unique "moan" is an understatement.  We've had different house guests who have all wanted to call the police, because she sounds more like someone being murdered than someone in the throes of passion.  She goes on and on, at the top of her lungs, continuously (and ladies, I do mean CONTINUOUSLY) for up to an hour and a half, and only ever between the hours of midnight and 5am.  Often, they finally finish their marathon only to start again an hour or two later.  She is so incredibly loud that I can clearly hear her through the closed windows, over the airconditioner, the TV, and often whatever dream I'm having about me and Brad Pitt joining families and getting rid of our spouses (sorry Dear, but he does handle double the kids you do, so he's got you beaten on that aspect alone).

Festive Greetings from me & my feral family!

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Christmas tree etiquette

Another festively themed post for said time of year...

There's an unwritten rule about putting Christmas decorations on your tree once you have kids.  They are supposed to do it, relish it, love it, enjoy it.  You are supposed to stand back, admire, cherish, enjoy.

I hate it.  I have an inherent need for symmetry and colour co-ordination.

I thought I was alone in this, which just makes me a crap mother for this need completely overriding the parental joy and family closeness of the annual tree trimming.

Not so.

A friend posted a Facebook status update about how her daughter had put the decorations on unevenly, and she was having trouble stopping herself from correcting it.  I replied with my own addiction to uniformity.  Another mother said she puts her tree up while the kids are at school in order to ensure it is done right (smart woman!).  And so on, and so forth.

I AM NOT ALONE!

I may, perhaps, be slightly more AR (anal retentive) about it than other mothers - I hyperventilate if two ornaments of the same colour are next to each other, and plan out a rough mock-up sketch of the tree and the ornaments, so I can ensure they are spaced evenly, and there is an even mix of colours and different ornament types throughout the tree.  Even the side you don't see because it's against the wall.

A quick note...

It has come to my attention (via Hubby) that my blog is entirely from my perspective....duh?!

So I've trawled the internet, twitter, blogspot - all the places I know how to access.  A kind if Internet probe, if you will.

There is a lovely blog by a Daddy that I now follow - so if any of you are interested in the "other" perspective on the whole parenting thing - please have a look:

Dishy Daddy Diaries

http://dishydaddydiaries.blogspot.com/

Well worth a read - and I hope I've spurred him into action by putting the pressure on to keep up the blog posts.

To further endear you to his readership - he actually LIKED having his baby in his bedroom.  He seriously ENJOYED having the baby close enough to hear every sound, every snore, every sniffle.  He moved his first bub to it's own bedroom with a degree of regret.  Seriously!  Either he can sleep through a hurricane, or he genuinely is the ultimate Daddy (probably the latter, as I don't yet know anyone who could sleep through a hurricane).

Meanwhile, my own kids were in their own rooms within a week of coming home - Mummy here gets woken by a fly landing on a dirty benchtop downstairs....no way was I going to endear myself to my newborn if it was sleeping within a 10 metre radius of me.

Kids in the workplace....very VERY bad idea

Kids in the workplace.  Some say it's not a good idea.  They would be right.

I had to take Miss5 to work with me last Friday afternoon.  I don't normally work Friday's, but I was doing a favour for my boss, and he was fine with Miss5 tagging along for the afternoon.  And I was converting the extra income to Mojito's on our impending Christmas holiday to Bali.

She's been to visit me on a Saturday (when I normally work), and had a great time photocopying her face and hands (thankfully not her naked behind, as I have forgotten to destroy the evidence a couple of times), and generally running around creating havoc.  Which is fine since the building is otherwise deserted on Saturday's.

Not on Friday's.  During the week there's a whole other company occupying the floor all around me - both sides and behind.  Try explaining this to Miss5 and she couldn't care less, she's too busy stapling the paper towel from the dispenser in the bathroom to her Tshirt. Which is followed by hilarous cackling (hers, not mine).

After banning the paper towel (stupid, stupid me...why did I ban that and not the stapler?!?), she started sticky taping one of the computer screens - entirely covering it with layers of tape.  Severely reprimanded her for this, and she sincerely promised not to sticky tape the computers again.

Oops...

Number 1 thing you don't want your child to say to Santa...

Santa to Miss5:   "Merry Christmas little lady!"

Miss5:   "Pish off Santa!"

And she stalks away.

Me - Mortified
Santa - Horrified
Miss5 - Terrified / angry (about a prior incident, poor Santa just copped the brunt of her fury since she's a bit scared of him in the flesh)

Miss5 may or may not have heard her mother use a similar phrase earlier today....

I suppose I should be glad she can't clearly pronounce her "s" - although there really wasn't any doubt as to what she was trying to say.

Packing 101 - The Essentials

It's officially 2 weeks until we go to Bali.  Now it's time for some serious packing.  As opposed to 3 months ago when I first pulled the suitcases out and did a "dry run".  And again 2 months ago.  And 6 weeks ago.  And every single week since then.

I have lists about lists I need to make of items to be bought, items to be packed, items to be organised before we leave.  I'm so ultra organised and anal about packing that I should be able to do it in 15 minutes.  And I probably could, but half the fun of anticipating a holiday, for me, is in the packing and the list writing and the preparation.

Mental note to self to add "organise someone to feed the cat" to one of my lists.  Probably should've been a priority.  Lucky the kids are coming with us.

Miss5 has watched all of my advance-advance-advance packing, and has her small suitcase out too.  Bless her for still being young enough to think her mother is cool and to be emulated.  Her case is covered in funky purple and green dinosaurs, and I have a slight case of case envy.  My cases are just red - Hubby put his foot down when I wanted to get a set of turquose, pink and brown striped cases.  At least we would've been in no doubt as to which cases were ours on the luggage carousel.

Ho Ho Ho, and say "Cheese"!

It's that time of year again - festive best wishes and all that stuff.  My favourite part being the Christmas parties. My least favourite part being the Santa photo's.

Miss5 is a huge fan of Santa, being of an age where she understands that the big guy is the one who leaves the cool presents for her to wake up to Christmas morning (I love her dearly for the fact that, regardless of it being Christmas morning, she is still not waking up before 8am to open her presents, while family and friends groan at the 4am - 5am early rise thanks to their own excited kids).

You'd think that, since she knows he's the man in charge of that magical time of year, she'd be happy to have a photo with him and a quick "hey Santa, how's it going?" - right?

Dead wrong...

Since she was a Miss3 and old enough to run away screaming, she has avoided Santa at all costs.  Which is rather difficult to do in shopping centres during the festive season (which starts earlier and earlier every year...before we know it there'll be tinsel and Christmas lights out in September...), as every retail outlet cashes in on that once a year event with the meet-and-greet and photo op's.

Woke up this morning to find the Advent Calendar (see recent post "Christmas is coming...NOW!") ripped apart, and all 3 kids covered in chocolate.  RIP My Little Pony - she was a good calendar while she lasted.  But, sadly, her cardboard windows were no match for 3 feral chocolate loving kids.

So, apparently that makes it Christmas....Merry Christmas everyone....I'm off to the shops to find a new Advent Calendar.

Contemplating replacing the chocolate figures with chocolate laxative versions.

That would teach them to pig out and eat them all at once.

Although, on second thoughts, in that scenario, I'm the one who would pay the ultimate price.

The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth...

I spent my early years honing my deception skills at school.  Up to the age of 12, I spent a lot of time faking life threatening asthma attacks, and I also made up a "woe is me" style story that my parents were getting a divorce - all so I could get out of sport that afternoon.  In a town of less than 1,000 people, you can imagine how quickly that one spread (totally false, by the way).

On the odd occasion I actually obtained a legitimate sick-note to get out of sport, I couldn't leave it at that - I'd take the note out of the envelope and write on the bottom "P.S. Georgia really needs to eat cough lollies in class all day too."  Because when you're 8 and you've got a sick-note for a sprained ankle, you might as well go for broke.

I'm nowhere near as bad now that I'm a mature (ho ho) adult with a family.

Like most families, mine is on a budget.  I do tend to make the odd (regular) purchase on the rare (daily) occasion that I'm at the shops - but only if it is critically important (or on sale...sort of).  When hubby gets home, looks at me and asks if I've only just bought my outfit, naturally I feign disappointment / hurt / disgust / shock / a combination of all of these, and say "of course not, you just never noticed it before...thanks a lot".

This is followed by a stand-off come stare-off, where hubby tries to read if I'm lying, and I try and hold my hurt and wounded expression in a manner that would make the cast of The Bold And The Beautiful proud.