Good morning. Its Monday morning on the last day in April. Wheee!
I probably sound like I'm full of fake cheer, or full of something anyway, but what the hell. I'm tired. Anyway, it occurred to me over the weekend that I have been blogging for just over a year. Yep, my first blog came online mid April 2006. I set myself a goal of reaching 100 posts by the end of 2006, and I am still not quite there. Hopefully I will reach 100 posts by the end of this month but perhaps I will refrain from promising anything.
Reading back over a few of the posts over the last year has been amusing. Its interesting to see how my two children have grown, both in stature and in mental development. It is also interesting to note how DW's and my life have changed in twelve months. Not much, it seems. However, I should note that while things may seem to be the same, they have actually changed. Twelve months ago Little Man could not walk and knew only a few words. Twelve months ago, Princess was slightly shorter than she is now. Twelve months ago DW was still employed.
You see, just before Little Man was born, DW went on 12 months maternity leave and was still on leave a year ago. After the twelve months expired, she extended the leave to 24 months (which her employer permits under certain conditions). So while she did receive payments for the first 12 weeks, she has been on unpaid leave ever since. We have satisfactorily balanced our budget to ensure that the decision to return to work was not dictated by financial concerns. And so, after much consideration, DW decided that in the best interests of Princess and Little Man, she would continue to be a full-time home-maker (I believe this is the politically correct term - if not, please substitute as appropriate). This meant formally resigning her position which was not easy for DW to do, as she has long prided herself at being extremely good at her job.
Anyway, DW prefers not to think of herself as unemployed, but rather that she now has someone to work for her. I think she keeps herself pretty busy at home. Princess is only at Kinder 3 half days a week and Little Man does his best to fill the void. He has become quite adept at creating almost as much havoc as she could. I sometimes envy DW as I walk away from a slumbering house on a cold morning, or like this morning, when they were all up and waving goodbye as I left. Sometimes I wish I got to be more involved in the day to day living.
But by the end of the day we are all tired and from when I get home at 6pm, its nice to see just how excited my arrival is for the kids. They both come hurtling to the door to see me and basically swarm around me until dinner is on the table. DW doesn't get to experience that and I know she wishes she did. That is one of the sacrifices she makes. By being home all the time, she gets taken for granted, and in a strange way, that's what kids need. They need to be confident that mum or dad will be there for them, so they can focus on living rather than surviving.
Its a tough job and I'm not sure I could do it. DW gets frustrated with me when I look after the kids on occasion and manage to do the housework as well. But I have explained that it is not just the doing of these tasks that is challenging. Its that these tasks are now your entire job, they are how you spend your working time. I can sweep, mop, stack, wash, hang out, fold, vacuum, make meals and tidy up just about as well as anyone on any given day. And look after the kids. But when people ask me what I do, I think of how I spend most of my working time. DW has had to give that up to be taken for granted by two little kids and a much bigger kid. Well, maybe not the latter, at least not all of the time. I guess my job, in part at least, is to make sure the kids remember to say thank you. I guess its lucky then that Mother's Day is coming up. Nothing says thank you like not having to sweep, mop, stack, wash, hang out, fold, vacuum, make meals and tidy up. Some breakfast in bed and a special dinner might help also. Maybe a present or two...
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Barney from "How I met Your Mother" makes blogging look uncool.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Greetings. I should warn you, my mind has wandered this morning and while I wait for it to return, I thought I'd write my blog.
A brief excerpt from a conversation between DW and Princess:
Princess: "Hey Mum. I don't want a baby girl anymore."
DW: "Oh, why?"
Princess: "Well, Little Man's kinda cool"
This is an important step because in the months leading up to Little Man's emergence into this world, Princess was adamant she wanted a little sister. It got to the point where she would burst into tears if anyone suggested that the new baby might be a boy, or how great a little brother might be. As it was, we had no idea what the sex of the impending child would be - though DW was certain it would be a boy. She likes to tell people how "she just knew" which is usually when I chime in with "you were just as sure Princess was going to be a boy" - but that's another story.
Anyway, Princess was so excited when Little Man was born, and had been reminded many, many times that it wasn't up to us to decide the sex, that she accepted Little Man as the beautiful little baby he was. Also, he had a penis, which was a novelty we hadn't prepared her for. So the tantrums over having a little sister were a thing of the past, but she still mentioned it occasionally for a long while after. Well, Little Man is now 20 months old and Princess and he are playing together more and more. It is very gratifying as a parent to see your two children playing happily together, not demanding your attention or bothering you. It can last several seconds before Little Man bursts into tears because of something Princess has done to him or taken from him. Or because he is tired or because the wind shifted. He can be a bit of a sook.
Princess has taken to blaming Little Man for pretty much anything she thinks she can get away with. Oddly enough, she doesn't actually get away with much, but she tries anyway. She also lies without thinking twice. Perhaps if she thought twice, her lies would be more convincing. A couple of days ago, she came to tell me that Little Man had let himself into the study, somewhere they are not allowed to go unattended. Now Little Man is so called because he is little, and a man, but mostly because he is little. He cannot yet reach high enough to turn the door handles. So I decided to challenge Princess but she refused to back down so we conducted an experiment. I asked Little Man, recently removed from under the desk in the study, to try to open the door to the study again. Little Man was not privy to the experiment and quite happily obliged, but as I expected, was not able to open the door. Interestingly, he had grown tall enough since I last saw him try and can now fully grip the handle, but as he is on his tip-toes, he still isn't able to turn the knob.
Princess and I were watching this process, and when it became obvious that Little Man wasn't going to be able to open the door, Princess decided he needed a demonstration, so tried to teach him on the spot. So I stopped the experiment, satisfied that I had made my point, and a little unnerved at how close Little Man had come to opening the door. Still, Princess wouldn't back down. After several more minutes of me questioning her story, she caved and admitted she had opened the door.
I am told this is a very natural stage of development. It shows her creative mind jumping in to save her skin, so to speak. I remember doing the same when I was little. I was quite good at lying. I discovered early that to lie successfully, you had to believe what you were saying, and to stick as close to the actual truth as possible. Too little detail and the story is hollow, but too much detail is impossible to keep track of. So I would tell the story of something that happened that was almost indistinguishable from the facts, differing only in the part relating specifically to my guilt. Occasionally I would have to tell a whopper but that was usually too much work so I refined my process to be less grand. I saw the amateurs around me fall on their lying faces, tripped up by some ridiculous detail or the outlandishness of their fabrications. I was caught out making a few rookie mistakes, but I moved on and became adept. It would seem that Princess is following in my footsteps. Of course, she might be following in DW's footsteps, as it is possible that DW is even better at lying than I am. I mean, if she were really good, how would I know? Hmmm. That's food for thought. Still, I guess it comes down to the fact that when DW tells me a story, I believe it, and when Princess opens her mouth, I am given to doubt. However, she is only five in two weeks so I probably should refine my lie-detecting skills because she is going to be dangerous when she becomes a teenager.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: I have found a clue to becoming immortal - "All good things must come to an end."
A brief excerpt from a conversation between DW and Princess:
Princess: "Hey Mum. I don't want a baby girl anymore."
DW: "Oh, why?"
Princess: "Well, Little Man's kinda cool"
This is an important step because in the months leading up to Little Man's emergence into this world, Princess was adamant she wanted a little sister. It got to the point where she would burst into tears if anyone suggested that the new baby might be a boy, or how great a little brother might be. As it was, we had no idea what the sex of the impending child would be - though DW was certain it would be a boy. She likes to tell people how "she just knew" which is usually when I chime in with "you were just as sure Princess was going to be a boy" - but that's another story.
Anyway, Princess was so excited when Little Man was born, and had been reminded many, many times that it wasn't up to us to decide the sex, that she accepted Little Man as the beautiful little baby he was. Also, he had a penis, which was a novelty we hadn't prepared her for. So the tantrums over having a little sister were a thing of the past, but she still mentioned it occasionally for a long while after. Well, Little Man is now 20 months old and Princess and he are playing together more and more. It is very gratifying as a parent to see your two children playing happily together, not demanding your attention or bothering you. It can last several seconds before Little Man bursts into tears because of something Princess has done to him or taken from him. Or because he is tired or because the wind shifted. He can be a bit of a sook.
Princess has taken to blaming Little Man for pretty much anything she thinks she can get away with. Oddly enough, she doesn't actually get away with much, but she tries anyway. She also lies without thinking twice. Perhaps if she thought twice, her lies would be more convincing. A couple of days ago, she came to tell me that Little Man had let himself into the study, somewhere they are not allowed to go unattended. Now Little Man is so called because he is little, and a man, but mostly because he is little. He cannot yet reach high enough to turn the door handles. So I decided to challenge Princess but she refused to back down so we conducted an experiment. I asked Little Man, recently removed from under the desk in the study, to try to open the door to the study again. Little Man was not privy to the experiment and quite happily obliged, but as I expected, was not able to open the door. Interestingly, he had grown tall enough since I last saw him try and can now fully grip the handle, but as he is on his tip-toes, he still isn't able to turn the knob.
Princess and I were watching this process, and when it became obvious that Little Man wasn't going to be able to open the door, Princess decided he needed a demonstration, so tried to teach him on the spot. So I stopped the experiment, satisfied that I had made my point, and a little unnerved at how close Little Man had come to opening the door. Still, Princess wouldn't back down. After several more minutes of me questioning her story, she caved and admitted she had opened the door.
I am told this is a very natural stage of development. It shows her creative mind jumping in to save her skin, so to speak. I remember doing the same when I was little. I was quite good at lying. I discovered early that to lie successfully, you had to believe what you were saying, and to stick as close to the actual truth as possible. Too little detail and the story is hollow, but too much detail is impossible to keep track of. So I would tell the story of something that happened that was almost indistinguishable from the facts, differing only in the part relating specifically to my guilt. Occasionally I would have to tell a whopper but that was usually too much work so I refined my process to be less grand. I saw the amateurs around me fall on their lying faces, tripped up by some ridiculous detail or the outlandishness of their fabrications. I was caught out making a few rookie mistakes, but I moved on and became adept. It would seem that Princess is following in my footsteps. Of course, she might be following in DW's footsteps, as it is possible that DW is even better at lying than I am. I mean, if she were really good, how would I know? Hmmm. That's food for thought. Still, I guess it comes down to the fact that when DW tells me a story, I believe it, and when Princess opens her mouth, I am given to doubt. However, she is only five in two weeks so I probably should refine my lie-detecting skills because she is going to be dangerous when she becomes a teenager.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: I have found a clue to becoming immortal - "All good things must come to an end."
What the Fwuck?!?
I know it sounds a little rude but it is all very innocent. You see, Little Man LOVES trucks. He loves cars and buses too, but he really loves trucks. Only he calls them "fwucks". He even makes the sounds - "Brrooommm, brrroooommm!" Its especially cute to hear him do the train noise - "whoo whoo ch ch ch ch" while rolling his shoulders. I'd love to get it on video, but he doesn't perform for the camera. Well, he does perform, just not what I want. A few days ago, he discovered the delight that is making himself so dizzy he couldn't stand. Seriously, he couldn't have been funnier if we had gotten him drunk. It was one of the funniest things I have ever seen but he wouldn't do it for the camera. Instead he wanted to be a frog. Its not that his frog impression is frighteningly accurate, its just not as funny as him staggering like a drunk and falling over.
Anyway, back to his speech impediment, though I guess learning to speak is not widely considered an impediment. It is quite amazing how much he picks up from Princess. He can now squeal, throw tantrums, scream "MINE!" and has a mean right hook. But he has also learnt to say nice things as well. For instance, when he says "sangsu" he means "thankyou", and "piss" means "please". Oddly enough, "lolol" means "water". He also loves to say "sorry" and he actually seems to use it in context and even mean it sometimes. "I'll gedit" and "I'll doit" are also favourites.
He also has a temper. It doesn't take much to annoy him and its almost worth doing just to see the reaction. He yells and stomps but it is his hitting of things that is really funny. He gives a big wind up and BANG, he slaps whatever as hard as he can. And he has quite a swing for a little guy. Whenever I pick him up when he's angry, I have to remember that he can give quite a clout, and has done many times. Occasionally he will hurt himself hitting something hard like the bench and I amuse myself occasionally by quickly stepping back and letting him miss when swinging at me. But soon the little storm subsides and he is ready for a cuddle and to say sorry.
Princess also has a temper, in case anyone was still wondering. She doesn't try hitting DW or me, but Little Man cops it occasionally. Actually, frequently would be more accurate, though it is less hitting him and more overly aggressive cuddling with an intent to maim. With us, she is more argumentative, very ready to try and talk over us, but completely intolerant of being spoken over. She has taken to stamping her foot and running off to her bedroom, slamming the door dramatically. Still, she is nearly five so what can you do. She can behave reasonably, she simply chooses not to.
I just remembered a funny little thing that happened on the weekend. We hired "March of the Penguins" and all sat down to watch it together, which we don't do very often. Anyway, it was quite a good film and one thing it did very well was the photography. Especially when the penguins found their mate. DW was particularly impressed and pointed out to Princess how wonderful it was to see them cuddling. However, after all that cuddling, the penguins decided to get down to business and Princess turned to DW and asked "What are they doing now?" DW went bright red and said "They are just cuddling a different way." Princess replied, "They don't look like they're cuddling. He's behind her and she's fallen over." DW set the matter to rest by saying, "They are cuddling and that's all now eat your dinner and stop asking questions if you want any dessert." That retelling might not be entirely accurate but you get the gist.
Oh, by the way, DW found out what Princess wished for with her wishing stone: a tutu and dancing shoes so she could go to dancing lessons. We can probably manage that.
Ciao!
Though for the Day: Most household lightbulbs are bayonet style - meaning no one screws them in. Thousands of jokes are now pointless.
I know it sounds a little rude but it is all very innocent. You see, Little Man LOVES trucks. He loves cars and buses too, but he really loves trucks. Only he calls them "fwucks". He even makes the sounds - "Brrooommm, brrroooommm!" Its especially cute to hear him do the train noise - "whoo whoo ch ch ch ch" while rolling his shoulders. I'd love to get it on video, but he doesn't perform for the camera. Well, he does perform, just not what I want. A few days ago, he discovered the delight that is making himself so dizzy he couldn't stand. Seriously, he couldn't have been funnier if we had gotten him drunk. It was one of the funniest things I have ever seen but he wouldn't do it for the camera. Instead he wanted to be a frog. Its not that his frog impression is frighteningly accurate, its just not as funny as him staggering like a drunk and falling over.
Anyway, back to his speech impediment, though I guess learning to speak is not widely considered an impediment. It is quite amazing how much he picks up from Princess. He can now squeal, throw tantrums, scream "MINE!" and has a mean right hook. But he has also learnt to say nice things as well. For instance, when he says "sangsu" he means "thankyou", and "piss" means "please". Oddly enough, "lolol" means "water". He also loves to say "sorry" and he actually seems to use it in context and even mean it sometimes. "I'll gedit" and "I'll doit" are also favourites.
He also has a temper. It doesn't take much to annoy him and its almost worth doing just to see the reaction. He yells and stomps but it is his hitting of things that is really funny. He gives a big wind up and BANG, he slaps whatever as hard as he can. And he has quite a swing for a little guy. Whenever I pick him up when he's angry, I have to remember that he can give quite a clout, and has done many times. Occasionally he will hurt himself hitting something hard like the bench and I amuse myself occasionally by quickly stepping back and letting him miss when swinging at me. But soon the little storm subsides and he is ready for a cuddle and to say sorry.
Princess also has a temper, in case anyone was still wondering. She doesn't try hitting DW or me, but Little Man cops it occasionally. Actually, frequently would be more accurate, though it is less hitting him and more overly aggressive cuddling with an intent to maim. With us, she is more argumentative, very ready to try and talk over us, but completely intolerant of being spoken over. She has taken to stamping her foot and running off to her bedroom, slamming the door dramatically. Still, she is nearly five so what can you do. She can behave reasonably, she simply chooses not to.
I just remembered a funny little thing that happened on the weekend. We hired "March of the Penguins" and all sat down to watch it together, which we don't do very often. Anyway, it was quite a good film and one thing it did very well was the photography. Especially when the penguins found their mate. DW was particularly impressed and pointed out to Princess how wonderful it was to see them cuddling. However, after all that cuddling, the penguins decided to get down to business and Princess turned to DW and asked "What are they doing now?" DW went bright red and said "They are just cuddling a different way." Princess replied, "They don't look like they're cuddling. He's behind her and she's fallen over." DW set the matter to rest by saying, "They are cuddling and that's all now eat your dinner and stop asking questions if you want any dessert." That retelling might not be entirely accurate but you get the gist.
Oh, by the way, DW found out what Princess wished for with her wishing stone: a tutu and dancing shoes so she could go to dancing lessons. We can probably manage that.
Ciao!
Though for the Day: Most household lightbulbs are bayonet style - meaning no one screws them in. Thousands of jokes are now pointless.
Friday, April 20, 2007
pig = bacon
lamb = chops
cow = steak
chicken = chicken
You know, I'd have thought the last one would have been a pretty big hint for Princess but no. It was a charming little kids film called "Babe" that first introduced Princess to the concept of us humans devouring cute little animals. I hired the movie for her after telling her it was about a cute little piggy that could talk. She thought that sounded wonderful and was eager to see this phenomenon for herself. Unfortunately, she discovered that the little piggy was going to be eaten and refused to watch such any further. I explained that the pig doesn't get eaten in the story. She asked if I had seen the movie and unfortunately I haven't. So then she asked how I knew the pig didn't get eaten and I explained that the fact they made a sequel made it pretty obvious. But the damage was done. She asked if all pigs get eaten. Why do we eat pigs?
The situation wasn't helped when I decided to cheer her up by hiring Charlotte's Web. I knew that pig didn't get eaten but apparently just the threat of being eaten, and the fact the movie reinforced the notion that MOST pigs get eaten, did not make Princess happy. Also, she freaked a little at the talking spider. Just when she decided she actually liked the spider, the bloody thing went and died. Anyway, its back to the Tellytubbies. I expect they'd fry up pretty good too.
Little Man has started sleeping through the odd night. I know you'd expect me to be a little more happy or even ecstatic about that but I remain cautiously optimistic. You see, just because Little Man has slept through "a couple" of times, Princess has decided to wake up and get me out of bed for some reason or another, on most of those nights. Still, it may be that Little Man is turning a corner. I know that he won't be able to stay in a cot for much longer. It hasn't yet occurred to him to try to climb out but the day he does try it, he is outta there! We have already started thinking about putting him in a bed, but that is one GIANT hurdle we are not quite ready for yet.
One small developmental change for Little Man is that in the last six weeks, he has developed an interest in the TV. He loves Hi-5 particularly and also Tellytubbies, mostly because the look like dancing lollies. He even sings along to some of the songs that come on. Its interesting that we now have to start monitoring how much TV he watches as well. We try to keep it down to a couple of hours, which is much easier on Kinder days for Princess. Fortunately Little Man is able to occupy himself with toys better than Princess ever did, so he is just as happy with the box off. Also, he sleeps during the day, twice if we are lucky.
Anyway, things are mostly pretty quiet at our place at the moment, aside from the screaming. But in just a couple of weeks, Princess turns the big 5 and planning for the party has begun. The theme is "Rainbow" and everyone has to dress up in their favourite colour. Could be fun. Will be hard work. I'll keep you all posted.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: IUTMA (I Use Too Many Acronyms)
lamb = chops
cow = steak
chicken = chicken
You know, I'd have thought the last one would have been a pretty big hint for Princess but no. It was a charming little kids film called "Babe" that first introduced Princess to the concept of us humans devouring cute little animals. I hired the movie for her after telling her it was about a cute little piggy that could talk. She thought that sounded wonderful and was eager to see this phenomenon for herself. Unfortunately, she discovered that the little piggy was going to be eaten and refused to watch such any further. I explained that the pig doesn't get eaten in the story. She asked if I had seen the movie and unfortunately I haven't. So then she asked how I knew the pig didn't get eaten and I explained that the fact they made a sequel made it pretty obvious. But the damage was done. She asked if all pigs get eaten. Why do we eat pigs?
The situation wasn't helped when I decided to cheer her up by hiring Charlotte's Web. I knew that pig didn't get eaten but apparently just the threat of being eaten, and the fact the movie reinforced the notion that MOST pigs get eaten, did not make Princess happy. Also, she freaked a little at the talking spider. Just when she decided she actually liked the spider, the bloody thing went and died. Anyway, its back to the Tellytubbies. I expect they'd fry up pretty good too.
Little Man has started sleeping through the odd night. I know you'd expect me to be a little more happy or even ecstatic about that but I remain cautiously optimistic. You see, just because Little Man has slept through "a couple" of times, Princess has decided to wake up and get me out of bed for some reason or another, on most of those nights. Still, it may be that Little Man is turning a corner. I know that he won't be able to stay in a cot for much longer. It hasn't yet occurred to him to try to climb out but the day he does try it, he is outta there! We have already started thinking about putting him in a bed, but that is one GIANT hurdle we are not quite ready for yet.
One small developmental change for Little Man is that in the last six weeks, he has developed an interest in the TV. He loves Hi-5 particularly and also Tellytubbies, mostly because the look like dancing lollies. He even sings along to some of the songs that come on. Its interesting that we now have to start monitoring how much TV he watches as well. We try to keep it down to a couple of hours, which is much easier on Kinder days for Princess. Fortunately Little Man is able to occupy himself with toys better than Princess ever did, so he is just as happy with the box off. Also, he sleeps during the day, twice if we are lucky.
Anyway, things are mostly pretty quiet at our place at the moment, aside from the screaming. But in just a couple of weeks, Princess turns the big 5 and planning for the party has begun. The theme is "Rainbow" and everyone has to dress up in their favourite colour. Could be fun. Will be hard work. I'll keep you all posted.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: IUTMA (I Use Too Many Acronyms)
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Hey, Hey! I'm back. Its been a long, dry, wordless spell in the blogless night. But no more! I can't guarantee the words will make any sense but they shall be words nonetheless. Possibly even sentences but more likely just words. Now, you are probably wondering why I haven't written for such a long time. Fair enough.
So much has happened in the past month I barely know where to start. Obviously it would be good to start at the beginning but I can't remember back that far, so I'll just go back as far as I can.
Yesterday Princess went to a "Fairy" party where a "real" fairy was in attendance, presumably to ensure that the fairy party was conducted in accordance with fairy party rules. They really can be a bunch of sticklers. Anyway, this bureaucrat with wings gave Princess a flat glass bead thingy and called it a "wishing stone". Princess dutifully placed the "wishing stone" within a suitable radius of her sleeping head and closed her eyes and silently made her wish. She believed with all her little heart that her wish was going to come true and given how eager she was to check the backyard this morning, I suspect she wished for Smartie rain.
However, her hopes were dashed and she came to me just as I was about to leave for work and asked why her wish hadn't come true. I asked her what she had wished for, in case it was for $1.45, which I happened to have on me, but she informed me with a very serious face, that to "tell" of her wish would guarantee its failure. Despite the obvious failure anyway, you might think that she could tell me but no. She stuck to her fairy-believing guns. So, now we are faced with the "magic" dilemna. Is it real or is it not? Do fairies exists or did the werewolves eat them all?
DW believes in fairies. I've noticed that everytime we watch Peter Pan she silently mouths "I do believe in fairies, I do, I do." So we have not yet travelled down the path of shattering Princess' belief in the irrational. It is a twisted web of lies and deceit as we hop from thread to thread, explaining why Santa doesn't like to be seen, how a great big chocolate-loving rabbit can sneak into our houses at night, leaving neatly wrapped Easter Bunny poo in all sorts of tricky places, and still be in every damn shopping centre we visit.
Princess is starting to wonder at the legitimacy of our arguments. She has taken to challenging them occasionally, wondering about the how's and why's and the what if's. Yet should I ever look like caving in and telling the truth, DW is there with a look that tells me that even if I don't believe in magic, she would find a way to turn me into a toad. It is a convincing look.
Little Man, on the other hand, believes in food. He doesn't care whether DW or I or a giant rabbit or anyone else for that matter, gives him food. He wants any sort of food. He's not big on vegies, but he'll eat just about anything else, and even vegies if enough "other" food is covering them. So when Easter came, Little Man gorged himself on chocolate-covered vegies. I think he would see a giant rabbit just as unprepared meat.
Anyway, now DW and I have to come up with a convincing explanation as to why the stupid "real" fairy's dumb wishing stone didn't work. If only she'd taken the $1.45, we'd be out of this mess. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow I can tell you about the latest discovery. pig = bacon
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: I was going to tell someone that "it's never too late" but they had already left.
So much has happened in the past month I barely know where to start. Obviously it would be good to start at the beginning but I can't remember back that far, so I'll just go back as far as I can.
Yesterday Princess went to a "Fairy" party where a "real" fairy was in attendance, presumably to ensure that the fairy party was conducted in accordance with fairy party rules. They really can be a bunch of sticklers. Anyway, this bureaucrat with wings gave Princess a flat glass bead thingy and called it a "wishing stone". Princess dutifully placed the "wishing stone" within a suitable radius of her sleeping head and closed her eyes and silently made her wish. She believed with all her little heart that her wish was going to come true and given how eager she was to check the backyard this morning, I suspect she wished for Smartie rain.
However, her hopes were dashed and she came to me just as I was about to leave for work and asked why her wish hadn't come true. I asked her what she had wished for, in case it was for $1.45, which I happened to have on me, but she informed me with a very serious face, that to "tell" of her wish would guarantee its failure. Despite the obvious failure anyway, you might think that she could tell me but no. She stuck to her fairy-believing guns. So, now we are faced with the "magic" dilemna. Is it real or is it not? Do fairies exists or did the werewolves eat them all?
DW believes in fairies. I've noticed that everytime we watch Peter Pan she silently mouths "I do believe in fairies, I do, I do." So we have not yet travelled down the path of shattering Princess' belief in the irrational. It is a twisted web of lies and deceit as we hop from thread to thread, explaining why Santa doesn't like to be seen, how a great big chocolate-loving rabbit can sneak into our houses at night, leaving neatly wrapped Easter Bunny poo in all sorts of tricky places, and still be in every damn shopping centre we visit.
Princess is starting to wonder at the legitimacy of our arguments. She has taken to challenging them occasionally, wondering about the how's and why's and the what if's. Yet should I ever look like caving in and telling the truth, DW is there with a look that tells me that even if I don't believe in magic, she would find a way to turn me into a toad. It is a convincing look.
Little Man, on the other hand, believes in food. He doesn't care whether DW or I or a giant rabbit or anyone else for that matter, gives him food. He wants any sort of food. He's not big on vegies, but he'll eat just about anything else, and even vegies if enough "other" food is covering them. So when Easter came, Little Man gorged himself on chocolate-covered vegies. I think he would see a giant rabbit just as unprepared meat.
Anyway, now DW and I have to come up with a convincing explanation as to why the stupid "real" fairy's dumb wishing stone didn't work. If only she'd taken the $1.45, we'd be out of this mess. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow I can tell you about the latest discovery. pig = bacon
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: I was going to tell someone that "it's never too late" but they had already left.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
*** WARNING ***
This blog contains useful information. If you do not wish to continue, please visit http://www.icantbelieveiamsostupid.com/
Ok, I have just returned from my local supermarket where I was witness to an unfortunate event. Its ok, I'm alright and the event did not involve me personally. Actually, in the grand scheme of things, it will seem pretty mundane. I sawa three year old having a tantrum. Now I know you have probably heard of this phenomenon, and many of you will have probably seen it. So I would have you ask yourself objectively right now, what did I do when I saw something like this?
You see, it wasn't the tantrum that most caught my attention. It wasn't even the manner in which the mother decided to handle the situation. It was the onlookers. I tell you, if it wasn't illegal to slap people, there would be a few red faces leaving Safeway right now. Ok, so the little guy was getting right into it. He was determined not to be ignored and was succeeding admirably. His mother was clearly frustrated but determined not to give in to the little monster's demands. Actually, it could be because he was yelling so hard his demands were pretty hard to make out. No, this young mother had decided to ignore her son's misbehaviour and proceed through the checkout, treating him as if he were not yelling. She spoke to him calmly though the frayed edges were beginning to show.
There are many schools of thought on the best manner to deal with such a tantrum and each parent has to decide for themselves which will be the most effective for their own child. Whatever the case, unless the child is in danger of being harmed, I feel it is best to let parents sort things out for themselves, unless they actually ask for advice. Clearly their were other points of view in the checkout lanes today.
Apparently some people think it is acceptable to openly discuss appropriate parenting methods in the hope that the errant parent will adopt the clearly more sensible point of view and in doing so will miraculously cure their child of that pesky case of personality. Those people should be the first against the wall when the revolution comes. This mother was clearly doing her level best to contain and control the situation and it certainly didn't help to have stupid people spouting things like, "I would never let my child behave like that." I actually heard someone suggestion that a good hard kick in the behind would get the little bugger in line. Hello Fool!. We don't kick people in this society and you should thank your lucky stars we don't. And we especially don't beat children into "line".
This little boy may have been misbehaving because he wasn't allowed to have a chocolate and I know many of you would consider his reaction fair and just. But it may not have been chocolate, it may have been a toy or chips or lollies or he may have just been overtired. He may have a chemical imbalance or some behavioural disorder. Having been witness only to the tantrum, and many children have tantrums, it should suffice to say that unless he was wearing a T-Shirt that said "The bitch won't let me have chocolate!", I would have to assume I do not know enough about the situation to offer any unrequested advice. Apparently not everyone shares my point of view. Of course, I lack the ability to fully define a complete personality profile of someone I have never met and have no information about beyond the fact that they appear upset.
Then there were the people who watch and laugh nervously. These people are stupid but are not so bad as the first group. You see, these people want to help both the mother and child by trying to "lighten" the situation. They hope that the child will see that life can indeed be happy and the mother can see that this situation can be laughed at. They are actually trying to help but are simply too stupid to know how. Now, I know that sometimes, a child having a tantrum can be very, VERY, funny. And even though I know I shouldn't, I have laughed long and loud at some of Princess' outbursts. But this situation was not funny. And no one there thought it was. These particular people hoped the child would enjoy being given some attention, and that by laughing at the child, he would see that it was himself that was funny. Kids love it when you laugh at something they do ONLY if that was their objective. They HATE being laughed for any other reason.
Parents also don't appreciate being laughed at, but at least have the benefit of being able to understand why people are doing it. The problem this time is that laughing in the hope that the parent will feel that there is a funny side, can backfire seriously. Chances are, unless you know the parent in question, you can count on a backfire. In short, laughing out loud at this sort of situation only makes it worse, so make sure it is really, really funny.
Finally, a few stupid people tried to directly interfere. Mother Theresa would have slapped these people silly and Ghandi would have laced on his best butt kicking boots. When a mother has just taken a lolly off a child to put it back on the shelf, you DON'T offer him some grapes from your own shopping and you DON'T, DON'T EVER, DON'T EVER OR I'LL KICK YOUR BUTT, say to the mother "Ahhh let him have it. He's obviously upset." Yes, moron. We all know he's upset. But if his MOTHER has decided he doesn't need any more lollies, she is probably right.
So, you are probably wondering if I did anything, said anything to help. I did not. You may now be thinking that I should be ashamed that I did not help. I am not. You see, the mother in question did not want help. She did not want advice either. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to be done with this whole mess as quickly as possible. She did not want to have another scene made over her, no matter how kindly it was intended. I wanted to give her a big hug (not because she was blonde and attractive) and tell her it would be ok. But the truth is I have no idea if it would be. I don't know that this kid wasn't going to scream at her everyday until he committed suicide in a jail cell. I don't know that he wasn't going to fall into a sound and peaceful sleep as she drove out of the car park. I only know she wanted to be left alone and to get out as quickly as possible. The attendants at Safeway very subtly enabled a closing checkout nearby to allow one more through without making any fuss. Kudos to them.
Its a tough gig being a parent, but its tougher for some than others. It can be because we are not prepared or because our child has special needs. It can be because of so many things, that most of the time, we will never know precisely why things are the way they are. DW and I are lucky because as challenging as Princess and Little Man are, we get a lot back from them. In the supermarket today, most of the "stupid" people I was referring to were obviously parents. While it seems counter-intuitive, the people most likely to behave appropriately were those who don't have kids because they don't assume that they know better. We parents, and those who have responsibilities for children, such as teachers, babysitters and so on, can all too often see our own children in the briefest of moments that we see other children. And we judge the best course of action accordingly. But that may be quite wrong.
I do not like to see kids upset. I do not like to see their mothers upset and worse still, to be treated like failures by stupid people who have no idea, compounding the failure they already feel at having been so embarrassed by their wayward child. Jesus said, "Judge not, lest ye be judged." I say, "Judged not, because you are probably wrong." and sometimes I say, "Judge not, you idiot."
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: The hare almost always beats the tortoise but lets face it, survival of the fittest is not a moral story.
This blog contains useful information. If you do not wish to continue, please visit http://www.icantbelieveiamsostupid.com/
Ok, I have just returned from my local supermarket where I was witness to an unfortunate event. Its ok, I'm alright and the event did not involve me personally. Actually, in the grand scheme of things, it will seem pretty mundane. I saw
You see, it wasn't the tantrum that most caught my attention. It wasn't even the manner in which the mother decided to handle the situation. It was the onlookers. I tell you, if it wasn't illegal to slap people, there would be a few red faces leaving Safeway right now. Ok, so the little guy was getting right into it. He was determined not to be ignored and was succeeding admirably. His mother was clearly frustrated but determined not to give in to the little monster's demands. Actually, it could be because he was yelling so hard his demands were pretty hard to make out. No, this young mother had decided to ignore her son's misbehaviour and proceed through the checkout, treating him as if he were not yelling. She spoke to him calmly though the frayed edges were beginning to show.
There are many schools of thought on the best manner to deal with such a tantrum and each parent has to decide for themselves which will be the most effective for their own child. Whatever the case, unless the child is in danger of being harmed, I feel it is best to let parents sort things out for themselves, unless they actually ask for advice. Clearly their were other points of view in the checkout lanes today.
Apparently some people think it is acceptable to openly discuss appropriate parenting methods in the hope that the errant parent will adopt the clearly more sensible point of view and in doing so will miraculously cure their child of that pesky case of personality. Those people should be the first against the wall when the revolution comes. This mother was clearly doing her level best to contain and control the situation and it certainly didn't help to have stupid people spouting things like, "I would never let my child behave like that." I actually heard someone suggestion that a good hard kick in the behind would get the little bugger in line. Hello Fool!. We don't kick people in this society and you should thank your lucky stars we don't. And we especially don't beat children into "line".
This little boy may have been misbehaving because he wasn't allowed to have a chocolate and I know many of you would consider his reaction fair and just. But it may not have been chocolate, it may have been a toy or chips or lollies or he may have just been overtired. He may have a chemical imbalance or some behavioural disorder. Having been witness only to the tantrum, and many children have tantrums, it should suffice to say that unless he was wearing a T-Shirt that said "The bitch won't let me have chocolate!", I would have to assume I do not know enough about the situation to offer any unrequested advice. Apparently not everyone shares my point of view. Of course, I lack the ability to fully define a complete personality profile of someone I have never met and have no information about beyond the fact that they appear upset.
Then there were the people who watch and laugh nervously. These people are stupid but are not so bad as the first group. You see, these people want to help both the mother and child by trying to "lighten" the situation. They hope that the child will see that life can indeed be happy and the mother can see that this situation can be laughed at. They are actually trying to help but are simply too stupid to know how. Now, I know that sometimes, a child having a tantrum can be very, VERY, funny. And even though I know I shouldn't, I have laughed long and loud at some of Princess' outbursts. But this situation was not funny. And no one there thought it was. These particular people hoped the child would enjoy being given some attention, and that by laughing at the child, he would see that it was himself that was funny. Kids love it when you laugh at something they do ONLY if that was their objective. They HATE being laughed for any other reason.
Parents also don't appreciate being laughed at, but at least have the benefit of being able to understand why people are doing it. The problem this time is that laughing in the hope that the parent will feel that there is a funny side, can backfire seriously. Chances are, unless you know the parent in question, you can count on a backfire. In short, laughing out loud at this sort of situation only makes it worse, so make sure it is really, really funny.
Finally, a few stupid people tried to directly interfere. Mother Theresa would have slapped these people silly and Ghandi would have laced on his best butt kicking boots. When a mother has just taken a lolly off a child to put it back on the shelf, you DON'T offer him some grapes from your own shopping and you DON'T, DON'T EVER, DON'T EVER OR I'LL KICK YOUR BUTT, say to the mother "Ahhh let him have it. He's obviously upset." Yes, moron. We all know he's upset. But if his MOTHER has decided he doesn't need any more lollies, she is probably right.
So, you are probably wondering if I did anything, said anything to help. I did not. You may now be thinking that I should be ashamed that I did not help. I am not. You see, the mother in question did not want help. She did not want advice either. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to be done with this whole mess as quickly as possible. She did not want to have another scene made over her, no matter how kindly it was intended. I wanted to give her a big hug (not because she was blonde and attractive) and tell her it would be ok. But the truth is I have no idea if it would be. I don't know that this kid wasn't going to scream at her everyday until he committed suicide in a jail cell. I don't know that he wasn't going to fall into a sound and peaceful sleep as she drove out of the car park. I only know she wanted to be left alone and to get out as quickly as possible. The attendants at Safeway very subtly enabled a closing checkout nearby to allow one more through without making any fuss. Kudos to them.
Its a tough gig being a parent, but its tougher for some than others. It can be because we are not prepared or because our child has special needs. It can be because of so many things, that most of the time, we will never know precisely why things are the way they are. DW and I are lucky because as challenging as Princess and Little Man are, we get a lot back from them. In the supermarket today, most of the "stupid" people I was referring to were obviously parents. While it seems counter-intuitive, the people most likely to behave appropriately were those who don't have kids because they don't assume that they know better. We parents, and those who have responsibilities for children, such as teachers, babysitters and so on, can all too often see our own children in the briefest of moments that we see other children. And we judge the best course of action accordingly. But that may be quite wrong.
I do not like to see kids upset. I do not like to see their mothers upset and worse still, to be treated like failures by stupid people who have no idea, compounding the failure they already feel at having been so embarrassed by their wayward child. Jesus said, "Judge not, lest ye be judged." I say, "Judged not, because you are probably wrong." and sometimes I say, "Judge not, you idiot."
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: The hare almost always beats the tortoise but lets face it, survival of the fittest is not a moral story.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Take Cover!! The Kids are Winning!!!!
Hello. Welcome to the end of the world. I mean, the end of February. Who knew the world would end on such a short month? Yes, the short are about to inherit the Earth. I am starting to suspect that in biblical times, "meek" actually meant "short in stature". And good luck to them, I say.
Princess and Little Man are currently ruling our house. Princess is the Queen of the Damned Day, and Little Man is the Prince of Darkness. It is possible that those monikers have already been taken but my precious little children have earned them. DW and I are but their humble slaves, me not so humble. People who come to visit are made to dance for their pleasure and sent away when they become boring.
In many ways, Princess is like an open book. One that is held open at the spine and shaken to make ALL the words come out together in a slightly meaningful jumble, but pretty hard to follow. Every sentence consists of her using every word she knows in an entirly new arrangement. She knows more words than a team of monkeys banging mindlessly away at keyboards trying to write a Shakespearean play. She also sounds like a team of monkeys banging mindlessly away at keyboards trying to write a Shakespearean play.
However, occassionally, she shows remarkable insight. We have now taught her the emergency phone number and she already knows our street address. We were cautious about this step in case we had the firebrigade show up to help her open a tub of yoghurt with those annoying tops that either tear when they shouldn't, or flick yoghurt onto your hand or glasses. She understands that the number must only be used in an emergency, and she was concerned as to what might be considered such. Without alarming her too much (perhaps I shouldn't have acted out possible scenarios - or used the tomato sauce) we explained that she should only call the number if DW or I are unable. So she asked how she would know if we were unable. This time we explained that if she asks us if she should ring the number, and we don't answer, then she should ring the number. Amazingly, she took it very seriously and can recite the procedure perfectly now. Still, I'm expecting to come home one night to a firetruck outside and several fireman sitting at my table eating yoghurt.
While I think of it, I should share another little Princess story. As can happen when things get tense at home, usually after weeks of Little Man not sleeping, DW was getting a little fed up with Princess asking for more food. She does this most of the time through the day. She doesn't eat much but likes as much variety as she can manage. Anyway, the other day, DW was getting a little hot under the collar with Princess and I. I, being the wiser of the two, recognized he powder keg when DW said, "Sometimes I'm treated like just a chef around here." As I turned to run, I heard Princess stand toe to tiny toe with DW and say, "You a chef? That's a good one, mum!" You may have heard the explosion. It was visible from space.
Little Man is making his own presence felt by becoming every bit as demanding as his big sister. Though he has only a few words, and some of them are not really words, no matter what DW says, he can usually get his point accross. "I want food." "I want water." "I want juice." "I want cheese." "Make me laugh." "Entertain me." "Pick me up." "Put me down." Pick me up." Put me down." "I want sultanas." "I want sausages." "I want whatever Princess is having." "No, I actually want you to take the thing out of her hands and give it to me." "Wipe my bottom." It doesn't end.
Little Man is no longer the settled little darling that he once was. He is a menace. When he is up, he is in to everything. He takes special note of the things we apparently care about and makes it his mission to destroy them. We have tried using reverse psychology, by pretending unusual attachment to lumps of rock and other indestructible items, while ignoring more valuabale items such as craft magazines and fabric and DW's most precious connection to the outside world, her laptop. But Little Man can smell fear. Oh, we can pretend we don't care, but he knows. He has his ways. He tests the water, he threatens things and watches to see how we react. If we start sweating, the game is up and he goes to town. I'm pretty good at the reverse psychology thing but DW only manages it convincingly when its my stuff in the firing line. In fact then, its amazing how well she can pretend not to give a crap.
So he spends much of the day strapped into his chair. That may sound like a punishment but is actually an Australian Standards Approved feeding chair so we choose to feed him a lot. Which is ok because its only good, healthy food and when he's not in the chair, he runs a lot, burning off energy and destroying things. Unfortunately he's now taken to seeing how far he can throw his food and utensils. He's got quite a good arm on him.
At night is when Little Man truly comes into his own. If you thought he was a menace during the day, then you were wrong. Well, actually, he is a menace during the day, so I guess you were right if that was what you were thinking. If you thought he wasn't a menace during the day, you would have been wrong, because he is. The point I am making is that he is worse at night.
Princess took a loooonnnnngggg time to get to sleep through the night. We had to control cry her most nights. Controlled Crying is frowned upon by some as being cruel to the child but I have spent a lot of time thinking about the balance between the child's wellbeing and the parents'. I have weighed up the consequences of not control crying and the flow on effect of the fatigued parents' ability to provide adequate care to the child in question and I have formed a carefully reasoned argument to the opponents of this method. However, these people are not usually smart enough to understand my brilliant argument so I just flick them on the forehead several times and say, "Control cry this!"
Little Man is diabolical. He doesn't cry, he laughs. It sounds like laughing in the middle of the night should be better than crying because at least the little angel is happy, right? WRONG! When you have been up four three hours and can see the alarm clock getting closer and closer to your wake-up time, it does NOT help to think, "Well, at least he's having fun." It does NOT help to know that me searching for his dummy on my hands and knees amuses him. And it does NOT help to think, "Well, as long as he's having fun, he's bound to stop soon." No, when they are crying, you know they will wear themselves out and eventually go to sleep. When they are crying, they are not mocking you and trying to make you perform tricks like find the dummy. When they are crying, they are unhappy and at least then you know you are up to console them, to comfort them. When they are laughing, you serve no purpose beyond your entertainment value.
It would be nice and simple if we could just ignore the laughing. But Little Man does not like to be ignored. He knows that if he keeps at it, he will eventually wake up Princess and she likes nothing better than a midnight game that can be easily blamed on someone else. So we have to try to keep Little Man from waking her. If DW wakes up, she takes a long time to go back to sleep whereas I sleep lightly but can fall asleep quickly, which apparently makes me ideally suited to looking after Little Man during the night. If only Controlled Laughing worked. Still, as I pace for an hour or more each night, I console myself with the thought that eventually he will grow out of this and become a teenager, whom I will be struggling to wake up. Only eleven and a half years to go.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Today is a beautiful day - too good to be working. Judging by my KPIs, so was last year.
Hello. Welcome to the end of the world. I mean, the end of February. Who knew the world would end on such a short month? Yes, the short are about to inherit the Earth. I am starting to suspect that in biblical times, "meek" actually meant "short in stature". And good luck to them, I say.
Princess and Little Man are currently ruling our house. Princess is the Queen of the Damned Day, and Little Man is the Prince of Darkness. It is possible that those monikers have already been taken but my precious little children have earned them. DW and I are but their humble slaves, me not so humble. People who come to visit are made to dance for their pleasure and sent away when they become boring.
In many ways, Princess is like an open book. One that is held open at the spine and shaken to make ALL the words come out together in a slightly meaningful jumble, but pretty hard to follow. Every sentence consists of her using every word she knows in an entirly new arrangement. She knows more words than a team of monkeys banging mindlessly away at keyboards trying to write a Shakespearean play. She also sounds like a team of monkeys banging mindlessly away at keyboards trying to write a Shakespearean play.
However, occassionally, she shows remarkable insight. We have now taught her the emergency phone number and she already knows our street address. We were cautious about this step in case we had the firebrigade show up to help her open a tub of yoghurt with those annoying tops that either tear when they shouldn't, or flick yoghurt onto your hand or glasses. She understands that the number must only be used in an emergency, and she was concerned as to what might be considered such. Without alarming her too much (perhaps I shouldn't have acted out possible scenarios - or used the tomato sauce) we explained that she should only call the number if DW or I are unable. So she asked how she would know if we were unable. This time we explained that if she asks us if she should ring the number, and we don't answer, then she should ring the number. Amazingly, she took it very seriously and can recite the procedure perfectly now. Still, I'm expecting to come home one night to a firetruck outside and several fireman sitting at my table eating yoghurt.
While I think of it, I should share another little Princess story. As can happen when things get tense at home, usually after weeks of Little Man not sleeping, DW was getting a little fed up with Princess asking for more food. She does this most of the time through the day. She doesn't eat much but likes as much variety as she can manage. Anyway, the other day, DW was getting a little hot under the collar with Princess and I. I, being the wiser of the two, recognized he powder keg when DW said, "Sometimes I'm treated like just a chef around here." As I turned to run, I heard Princess stand toe to tiny toe with DW and say, "You a chef? That's a good one, mum!" You may have heard the explosion. It was visible from space.
Little Man is making his own presence felt by becoming every bit as demanding as his big sister. Though he has only a few words, and some of them are not really words, no matter what DW says, he can usually get his point accross. "I want food." "I want water." "I want juice." "I want cheese." "Make me laugh." "Entertain me." "Pick me up." "Put me down." Pick me up." Put me down." "I want sultanas." "I want sausages." "I want whatever Princess is having." "No, I actually want you to take the thing out of her hands and give it to me." "Wipe my bottom." It doesn't end.
Little Man is no longer the settled little darling that he once was. He is a menace. When he is up, he is in to everything. He takes special note of the things we apparently care about and makes it his mission to destroy them. We have tried using reverse psychology, by pretending unusual attachment to lumps of rock and other indestructible items, while ignoring more valuabale items such as craft magazines and fabric and DW's most precious connection to the outside world, her laptop. But Little Man can smell fear. Oh, we can pretend we don't care, but he knows. He has his ways. He tests the water, he threatens things and watches to see how we react. If we start sweating, the game is up and he goes to town. I'm pretty good at the reverse psychology thing but DW only manages it convincingly when its my stuff in the firing line. In fact then, its amazing how well she can pretend not to give a crap.
So he spends much of the day strapped into his chair. That may sound like a punishment but is actually an Australian Standards Approved feeding chair so we choose to feed him a lot. Which is ok because its only good, healthy food and when he's not in the chair, he runs a lot, burning off energy and destroying things. Unfortunately he's now taken to seeing how far he can throw his food and utensils. He's got quite a good arm on him.
At night is when Little Man truly comes into his own. If you thought he was a menace during the day, then you were wrong. Well, actually, he is a menace during the day, so I guess you were right if that was what you were thinking. If you thought he wasn't a menace during the day, you would have been wrong, because he is. The point I am making is that he is worse at night.
Princess took a loooonnnnngggg time to get to sleep through the night. We had to control cry her most nights. Controlled Crying is frowned upon by some as being cruel to the child but I have spent a lot of time thinking about the balance between the child's wellbeing and the parents'. I have weighed up the consequences of not control crying and the flow on effect of the fatigued parents' ability to provide adequate care to the child in question and I have formed a carefully reasoned argument to the opponents of this method. However, these people are not usually smart enough to understand my brilliant argument so I just flick them on the forehead several times and say, "Control cry this!"
Little Man is diabolical. He doesn't cry, he laughs. It sounds like laughing in the middle of the night should be better than crying because at least the little angel is happy, right? WRONG! When you have been up four three hours and can see the alarm clock getting closer and closer to your wake-up time, it does NOT help to think, "Well, at least he's having fun." It does NOT help to know that me searching for his dummy on my hands and knees amuses him. And it does NOT help to think, "Well, as long as he's having fun, he's bound to stop soon." No, when they are crying, you know they will wear themselves out and eventually go to sleep. When they are crying, they are not mocking you and trying to make you perform tricks like find the dummy. When they are crying, they are unhappy and at least then you know you are up to console them, to comfort them. When they are laughing, you serve no purpose beyond your entertainment value.
It would be nice and simple if we could just ignore the laughing. But Little Man does not like to be ignored. He knows that if he keeps at it, he will eventually wake up Princess and she likes nothing better than a midnight game that can be easily blamed on someone else. So we have to try to keep Little Man from waking her. If DW wakes up, she takes a long time to go back to sleep whereas I sleep lightly but can fall asleep quickly, which apparently makes me ideally suited to looking after Little Man during the night. If only Controlled Laughing worked. Still, as I pace for an hour or more each night, I console myself with the thought that eventually he will grow out of this and become a teenager, whom I will be struggling to wake up. Only eleven and a half years to go.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Today is a beautiful day - too good to be working. Judging by my KPIs, so was last year.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Ahhh Valentine's Day. That wonderful tribute to Hallmark's bottom line. I know everyone has heard the usual rant against "fake" holidays and special events concocted by greedy suits to prey upon the wallets of hapless men and women who are terrified of being thought of as stingy or uncaring. I don't care. I don't care that Hallmark made it up to sell cards. I don't care for the commecialism that surrounds Feb 14. I don't care what other people are doing to make this "special" day wonderful and I don't care about the passionate arguments for defying the capitalist pigs. I don't care how many flowers are sold today or how many chocolates are consumed. I don't care if you drink champagne or a cowboy or a coke. I don't care if you receive a card from "someone special" or a singing telegram. Boy, I sound like the Valentine's Day equivalent of Scrooge, don't I?
But I'm not.
Those things don't matter. I do care about the important things, and something Valentine's Day represents is the most important thing for me to care about. I care about DW. Of course, I care about Princess and Little Man and I try to show them that every day. One of the problems with being a parent, or a busy person for any reason, is that it can be all too easy to take that "special someone" for granted. I don't mean to. I would hate the thought that DW ever felt as though I took her for granted, though I'm sure she does sometimes. Probably because I do sometimes.
So each year, on Feb 14, DW and I do something special. Not very special. Just special enough to take the time to remind ourselves and each other that we do care for, love and need each other. Of course, we should do this every day and guess what, we do. At least we try to. I don't mind that the commercial world jumps up and tells me to show DW how much I love her. Its not like its really hard. As a rule I don't tend to buy flowers or cards but its usually a good excuse for buying chocolates.
Even if we do so everyday, its still worth making one day a little more special. Even if our relationship were perfect, it would probably still have one day that focussed on the "us" part of our relationship. Its so hard to commit yourself fully to another person, to accept their foibles and failings, that when you do make that stand, its worth reminding yourself occasionally just why you do it. Sometimes that is easier than others. Sometimes you really have to look hard to see the person you wanted to be with. But it can also hard to be the person you need be for your partner. Relationships are not easy, we all know that. So why not have a day where both partners make it easy for each other? It can't be Christmas everyday of the year, nor can it be Valentine's Day. Maybe once a year is not enough, but at least its a start.
So tonight, DW and I will "process" the kids quickly, encouraging an early night. Then we will have a bottle of wine with a nice dinner and sit and chat. We won't chat about our day, or the news or the kids or the weather. We will chat about us. We will remember that above all else we have chosen each other for this journey. I don't suppose that everyone could do this. My relationship with DW is not the same as any other out there. Some are better and some are worse. In fact, I have heard that this particular time of year is the peak for breakups. I don't think that's going to happen to me tonight, but believe me, if it does, there will be a blog tomorrow.
I guess that rather than this being a tribute to DW, it is more about the nature of our relationship. We are not perfect but we are perfect for each other. I like to think that we can go the distance but I know everyone thinks that of their own relationship. I know it takes work and humour and love and determination and it doesn't seem unreasonable that I spend at least one day a year at it. It probably won't kill me.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: The world is my oyster, which does explain the smell.
But I'm not.
Those things don't matter. I do care about the important things, and something Valentine's Day represents is the most important thing for me to care about. I care about DW. Of course, I care about Princess and Little Man and I try to show them that every day. One of the problems with being a parent, or a busy person for any reason, is that it can be all too easy to take that "special someone" for granted. I don't mean to. I would hate the thought that DW ever felt as though I took her for granted, though I'm sure she does sometimes. Probably because I do sometimes.
So each year, on Feb 14, DW and I do something special. Not very special. Just special enough to take the time to remind ourselves and each other that we do care for, love and need each other. Of course, we should do this every day and guess what, we do. At least we try to. I don't mind that the commercial world jumps up and tells me to show DW how much I love her. Its not like its really hard. As a rule I don't tend to buy flowers or cards but its usually a good excuse for buying chocolates.
Even if we do so everyday, its still worth making one day a little more special. Even if our relationship were perfect, it would probably still have one day that focussed on the "us" part of our relationship. Its so hard to commit yourself fully to another person, to accept their foibles and failings, that when you do make that stand, its worth reminding yourself occasionally just why you do it. Sometimes that is easier than others. Sometimes you really have to look hard to see the person you wanted to be with. But it can also hard to be the person you need be for your partner. Relationships are not easy, we all know that. So why not have a day where both partners make it easy for each other? It can't be Christmas everyday of the year, nor can it be Valentine's Day. Maybe once a year is not enough, but at least its a start.
So tonight, DW and I will "process" the kids quickly, encouraging an early night. Then we will have a bottle of wine with a nice dinner and sit and chat. We won't chat about our day, or the news or the kids or the weather. We will chat about us. We will remember that above all else we have chosen each other for this journey. I don't suppose that everyone could do this. My relationship with DW is not the same as any other out there. Some are better and some are worse. In fact, I have heard that this particular time of year is the peak for breakups. I don't think that's going to happen to me tonight, but believe me, if it does, there will be a blog tomorrow.
I guess that rather than this being a tribute to DW, it is more about the nature of our relationship. We are not perfect but we are perfect for each other. I like to think that we can go the distance but I know everyone thinks that of their own relationship. I know it takes work and humour and love and determination and it doesn't seem unreasonable that I spend at least one day a year at it. It probably won't kill me.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: The world is my oyster, which does explain the smell.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
WARNING: When I reassembled my head this morning, I had three screws and jelly bean left over. I'm going to keep the screws in case they come in handy but I have already eaten the jelly bean.
Occasionally a little freeform, crazy writing does wonders for the soul. It allows you to just bang away at the keyboard like a monkey trying to pick up hundreds and thousands with tweezers. I don't expect it makes great reading though. So it got me thinking: Do I write this for the reader or do you read this for the writer? Unlike the Chicken and the Egg conundrum, we know the writing came first. Its not like anyone came up to me and said, "What do you think?"
I think a lot of different things and a lot of the same things differently. By that I mean sometimes my mind wanders and I find myself out in the middle of nowhere without a map or any water. I mean this metaphorically of course. Other times I find myself considering something quite obvious and mundane and then I stand up and walk around the object of consideration and look at it from the other side. In this case, the object represents a principle or concept rather than a cup of hot chocolate for instance. A cup of hot chocolate is pretty much the same from over here. And from here. And from here as well. I'm having hot chocolate this morning.
Which brings me finally to the point of discussion of today's blog. DW and the Art of Knowing Exactly What She Wants To Hear. This is a Martial Art and I have a white belt. I may have already touched on this topic in the past but I feel that its worth mentioning, even if it is again.
DW will frequently offer me two choices. Sometimes she will hold them aloft before me and sometimes she will point at them in a magazine. Occasionally she will describe them in exquisite detail for twenty minutes each and then ask me which one she should buy, make, buy and make, eat, buy and eat, make and eat, buy and make and eat, wear, buy and wear, make and wear, buy and make and wear, buy and make and wear and eat. Now you are probably thinking a specific example would help demonstrate my point. But it wouldn't. In fact, it really doesn't matter what the two choices are because this is not the Art of Knowing Which Fabric Goes With Her Complexion, or the Art of Having More Money For The Buying Of Fabric. No, this is the Art of Knowing Exactly What She Wants To Hear, so it really doesn't matter what the choices are. What matters is being able to work out from the myriad subtle clues what she wants you to say.
Rule #1: Don't under any circumstances give your actual opinion. It is not wanted, needed or right.
Rule #2: Listen. Listen really hard. Not because she wants you to, but because your life depends on it.
Rule #3: Read Rule #2 again. I don't think you've got it.
Rule #4: Be observant. Watch how she holds things or points at things. She will be telling you which one to choose.
Rule #5: Seriously, read Rule #2 again.
Rule #6: NEVER, under any circumstances, reply too quickly without apparent due consideration.
Rule #7: NEVER, under any circumstances, reply too slowly or you will seem uninterested.
Rule #8: NEVER sound too sure. You might as well call her an idiot for even asking.
Rule #9: NEVER sound too keen. She will think you are mocking her. If you think quickly and are extremely lucky, you might get away with this one if you can convince her you are actually gay.
Rule #10: NEVER, EVER pick the wrong one. Just don't.
Well, that's how I got to be a white belt in the most dangerous martial art known to man and female life partners. I share this wisdom with you now because tomorrow is Valentine's Day and when all shall be redeemed. You want to see some world-class grovelling? Stay tuned...
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: If Mark Twain were alive to read this he would be really, really old.
Occasionally a little freeform, crazy writing does wonders for the soul. It allows you to just bang away at the keyboard like a monkey trying to pick up hundreds and thousands with tweezers. I don't expect it makes great reading though. So it got me thinking: Do I write this for the reader or do you read this for the writer? Unlike the Chicken and the Egg conundrum, we know the writing came first. Its not like anyone came up to me and said, "What do you think?"
I think a lot of different things and a lot of the same things differently. By that I mean sometimes my mind wanders and I find myself out in the middle of nowhere without a map or any water. I mean this metaphorically of course. Other times I find myself considering something quite obvious and mundane and then I stand up and walk around the object of consideration and look at it from the other side. In this case, the object represents a principle or concept rather than a cup of hot chocolate for instance. A cup of hot chocolate is pretty much the same from over here. And from here. And from here as well. I'm having hot chocolate this morning.
Which brings me finally to the point of discussion of today's blog. DW and the Art of Knowing Exactly What She Wants To Hear. This is a Martial Art and I have a white belt. I may have already touched on this topic in the past but I feel that its worth mentioning, even if it is again.
DW will frequently offer me two choices. Sometimes she will hold them aloft before me and sometimes she will point at them in a magazine. Occasionally she will describe them in exquisite detail for twenty minutes each and then ask me which one she should buy, make, buy and make, eat, buy and eat, make and eat, buy and make and eat, wear, buy and wear, make and wear, buy and make and wear, buy and make and wear and eat. Now you are probably thinking a specific example would help demonstrate my point. But it wouldn't. In fact, it really doesn't matter what the two choices are because this is not the Art of Knowing Which Fabric Goes With Her Complexion, or the Art of Having More Money For The Buying Of Fabric. No, this is the Art of Knowing Exactly What She Wants To Hear, so it really doesn't matter what the choices are. What matters is being able to work out from the myriad subtle clues what she wants you to say.
Rule #1: Don't under any circumstances give your actual opinion. It is not wanted, needed or right.
Rule #2: Listen. Listen really hard. Not because she wants you to, but because your life depends on it.
Rule #3: Read Rule #2 again. I don't think you've got it.
Rule #4: Be observant. Watch how she holds things or points at things. She will be telling you which one to choose.
Rule #5: Seriously, read Rule #2 again.
Rule #6: NEVER, under any circumstances, reply too quickly without apparent due consideration.
Rule #7: NEVER, under any circumstances, reply too slowly or you will seem uninterested.
Rule #8: NEVER sound too sure. You might as well call her an idiot for even asking.
Rule #9: NEVER sound too keen. She will think you are mocking her. If you think quickly and are extremely lucky, you might get away with this one if you can convince her you are actually gay.
Rule #10: NEVER, EVER pick the wrong one. Just don't.
Well, that's how I got to be a white belt in the most dangerous martial art known to man and female life partners. I share this wisdom with you now because tomorrow is Valentine's Day and when all shall be redeemed. You want to see some world-class grovelling? Stay tuned...
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: If Mark Twain were alive to read this he would be really, really old.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
The once was a man from Nantuket
Who got his foot stuck in a bucket
He fell with a clamour
It cured his old stammer
But now all he can say is "Oh dear!"
I'm not really sure why I wrote that. I would take it back but I've had my "delete" key surgically removed. Anyway, for more adventures of the Man from Nantuket, visit his website at: www.icantbelieveimsostupid.com and enjoy! And let me know what you think of the site.
Ok, down to business. I promised a little update on Princess and Little Man so here it is. I mentioned recently that they are starting to play together more and more. Mostly its that running and screaming game, and the manner in which they decide who is pursuing and who is pursued is more complex than I can fathom. Now, apart from the noise, its great that they play together, but it can make bedtime difficult. The problem is they don't know when to stop.
Little Man used to sleep well, back before he had any teeth. When they shared a room, we would put him to bed first because it would take him around 30 seconds to fall asleep and Princess with a whistle and a handful of party poppers couldn't wake him up. She would try for about 30 seconds and then she too would fall asleep. Oh, how I long for those days.
Anyway, Little Man now knows the joys of not going to sleep. He can lie down and lift his legs up. He can stand up and walk to the edge of the cot. He can run to each of the corners. Endless fun! Apparently it can amuse him for hours, which means he doesn't go to sleep quickly any more.
We experimented with putting them both to bed at the same time but this did not work out well. If Princess is not distracted, she will still fall asleep very quickly. Usually if she hasn't made any noise for five minutes, she is probably asleep. That means its safe to put Little Man down because as much fun as exploring his cot again is, all his laughing and yelling and baby-equivalent of "Wow! Look at this! This is amazing! FOUR corners, still!", he still can't wake up Princess. Mind you, if he ever learns the word "chocolate" we will have to put them in separate rooms.
Anyway, occasionally Princess has managed to keep herself distracted long enough to be awake when Little Man goes to bed. This rarely ends well. Princess now has an audience who finds her slightly more fascinating than the corners of his cot, though I suspect some of his yelling is him trying to draw her attention to the amazingly consistent number of corners. Little Man has not yet reached the Age of Reason and so there is little we can do with him. Princess on the other hand, has reached the Age of Reason, though she thought it was the Age of Raisins. However, she is pretty difficult to raisin with.
She knows she is not allowed to play with Little Man when they are supposed to be sleeping. She also knows it is she who will get in trouble if they are caught. So she has developed very good hearing and the instant she hears the sliding door open, she will drop whatever it is she is doing, or whoever she is holding, and leap back into bed and pretend that she has no idea what is going on. She will even go so far as to clasp her hands together and smile her "I'm too cute for you to be angry at" smile.
I caught her the other day. Its amazing how quickly she can move. I knew she had been playing with Little Man, not because I caught them together. He was running around in his cot saying "...here's a corner and here's a corner and...". No, aside from the sound of someone leaping into bed, Princess was sitting up, eyes wide and innocent and hands clasped angelically before her. When she tried to smile her sweet, "Aren't I the picture of innocence?" smile, she realised that she had Little man's dummy in her mouth. So what did she do then? What would anyone do if caught in that situation? She spat the dummy out and said "Oops". I could see her thinking, "Would he fall for it if I pretended I didn't know how that got there?" but a few moments pause was all she needed. She lay down, pulled up the doona, closed her eyes and held out the dummy, which I took and gave it back to Little Man, "...and here's a corner and here's a corner and swuck, suckck,sswuck,swuck,swucksucckkcsswuck..."
Oh well. So now, Princess goes to bed first, and then, when we are sure she is asleep, Little Man does laps of his cot. Its not perfect but its a process that seems to work.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: shlathole sounds rude, but actually, its not a word. Its kobberish.
Who got his foot stuck in a bucket
He fell with a clamour
It cured his old stammer
But now all he can say is "Oh dear!"
I'm not really sure why I wrote that. I would take it back but I've had my "delete" key surgically removed. Anyway, for more adventures of the Man from Nantuket, visit his website at: www.icantbelieveimsostupid.com and enjoy! And let me know what you think of the site.
Ok, down to business. I promised a little update on Princess and Little Man so here it is. I mentioned recently that they are starting to play together more and more. Mostly its that running and screaming game, and the manner in which they decide who is pursuing and who is pursued is more complex than I can fathom. Now, apart from the noise, its great that they play together, but it can make bedtime difficult. The problem is they don't know when to stop.
Little Man used to sleep well, back before he had any teeth. When they shared a room, we would put him to bed first because it would take him around 30 seconds to fall asleep and Princess with a whistle and a handful of party poppers couldn't wake him up. She would try for about 30 seconds and then she too would fall asleep. Oh, how I long for those days.
Anyway, Little Man now knows the joys of not going to sleep. He can lie down and lift his legs up. He can stand up and walk to the edge of the cot. He can run to each of the corners. Endless fun! Apparently it can amuse him for hours, which means he doesn't go to sleep quickly any more.
We experimented with putting them both to bed at the same time but this did not work out well. If Princess is not distracted, she will still fall asleep very quickly. Usually if she hasn't made any noise for five minutes, she is probably asleep. That means its safe to put Little Man down because as much fun as exploring his cot again is, all his laughing and yelling and baby-equivalent of "Wow! Look at this! This is amazing! FOUR corners, still!", he still can't wake up Princess. Mind you, if he ever learns the word "chocolate" we will have to put them in separate rooms.
Anyway, occasionally Princess has managed to keep herself distracted long enough to be awake when Little Man goes to bed. This rarely ends well. Princess now has an audience who finds her slightly more fascinating than the corners of his cot, though I suspect some of his yelling is him trying to draw her attention to the amazingly consistent number of corners. Little Man has not yet reached the Age of Reason and so there is little we can do with him. Princess on the other hand, has reached the Age of Reason, though she thought it was the Age of Raisins. However, she is pretty difficult to raisin with.
She knows she is not allowed to play with Little Man when they are supposed to be sleeping. She also knows it is she who will get in trouble if they are caught. So she has developed very good hearing and the instant she hears the sliding door open, she will drop whatever it is she is doing, or whoever she is holding, and leap back into bed and pretend that she has no idea what is going on. She will even go so far as to clasp her hands together and smile her "I'm too cute for you to be angry at" smile.
I caught her the other day. Its amazing how quickly she can move. I knew she had been playing with Little Man, not because I caught them together. He was running around in his cot saying "...here's a corner and here's a corner and...". No, aside from the sound of someone leaping into bed, Princess was sitting up, eyes wide and innocent and hands clasped angelically before her. When she tried to smile her sweet, "Aren't I the picture of innocence?" smile, she realised that she had Little man's dummy in her mouth. So what did she do then? What would anyone do if caught in that situation? She spat the dummy out and said "Oops". I could see her thinking, "Would he fall for it if I pretended I didn't know how that got there?" but a few moments pause was all she needed. She lay down, pulled up the doona, closed her eyes and held out the dummy, which I took and gave it back to Little Man, "...and here's a corner and here's a corner and swuck, suckck,sswuck,swuck,swucksucckkcsswuck..."
Oh well. So now, Princess goes to bed first, and then, when we are sure she is asleep, Little Man does laps of his cot. Its not perfect but its a process that seems to work.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: shlathole sounds rude, but actually, its not a word. Its kobberish.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Hi All, its Monday again.
Not sure what to blog about today so I thought I'd quickly catch up on some of the movies I watched over the January period. Now I have already mentioned "So I Married An Axe Murderer" but I have watched several films since then.
DW and I had been looking forward to seeing "The Producers" with Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick, but we found the movie to be a bit lame. While everyone played their parts reasonably well, overall it was like an ill-fitting jigsaw puzzle. Uma Thurman provided little more than eye candy but I did enjoy Will Ferrell's role. The part I found funniest in the whole movie was when Nathan Lane's character is in his cell toward the end, recounting his childhood only to realise moments later that what he was remembering wasn't his childhood but someone elses. The line "What the hell was that about?" was vintage Mel Brooks. Still, overall it was a fairly plodding film and perhaps the stage is where it should have stayed.
Another film I watched with anticipation was the Nick Cave written, "The Proposition" with Guy Pearce. This Australian film was one I would recommend with reservation. It is an extremely well crafted film, make no mistake. John Hillcoat has definitely shown his colours in directing this film. But it is a hard film to watch. At its core it is about family and this might make it seem appealing but wait... there's more. This film shows the ragged remains of strained relationships in brutal detail, and it is the brutality of this depiction that leaves you desperate for something emotionally equivalent to a palate cleanser. There are many films with far more graphic violence, but few more brutal. I will not watch this film again but I will always remember it and it will inform my own filmmaking in many ways, I am sure. So watch this film if you think you can stomach it, but remember, you have been warned.
A much lighter film was "Russian Dolls". DW did not watch the previous film with me and was reluctant to watch this one, though for different reasons. Anyway, we finally sat down and watched it and it was a pleasant surprise. It is a light film but very well made. It showed mostly simple depictions of relationships, but it highlighted some extremely significant things within that surface layer. Probably the best shot in the whole movie was seeing how two hands touch and hold for the first time. While this film was far from perfect, and the (anti) hero finally gets the girl, even though he probably doesn't deserve her, its still a satisfying film. It has some very funny moments as well but mostly, its simple and light and enjoyable. It won't change your life but its worth a look.
Anyway, that's all for today. I promise the next blog will have something about Princess and Little Man.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Absorbent and porous and yellow is he (I have the SpongeBob Squarepants tune stuck in my head)
Not sure what to blog about today so I thought I'd quickly catch up on some of the movies I watched over the January period. Now I have already mentioned "So I Married An Axe Murderer" but I have watched several films since then.
DW and I had been looking forward to seeing "The Producers" with Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick, but we found the movie to be a bit lame. While everyone played their parts reasonably well, overall it was like an ill-fitting jigsaw puzzle. Uma Thurman provided little more than eye candy but I did enjoy Will Ferrell's role. The part I found funniest in the whole movie was when Nathan Lane's character is in his cell toward the end, recounting his childhood only to realise moments later that what he was remembering wasn't his childhood but someone elses. The line "What the hell was that about?" was vintage Mel Brooks. Still, overall it was a fairly plodding film and perhaps the stage is where it should have stayed.
Another film I watched with anticipation was the Nick Cave written, "The Proposition" with Guy Pearce. This Australian film was one I would recommend with reservation. It is an extremely well crafted film, make no mistake. John Hillcoat has definitely shown his colours in directing this film. But it is a hard film to watch. At its core it is about family and this might make it seem appealing but wait... there's more. This film shows the ragged remains of strained relationships in brutal detail, and it is the brutality of this depiction that leaves you desperate for something emotionally equivalent to a palate cleanser. There are many films with far more graphic violence, but few more brutal. I will not watch this film again but I will always remember it and it will inform my own filmmaking in many ways, I am sure. So watch this film if you think you can stomach it, but remember, you have been warned.
A much lighter film was "Russian Dolls". DW did not watch the previous film with me and was reluctant to watch this one, though for different reasons. Anyway, we finally sat down and watched it and it was a pleasant surprise. It is a light film but very well made. It showed mostly simple depictions of relationships, but it highlighted some extremely significant things within that surface layer. Probably the best shot in the whole movie was seeing how two hands touch and hold for the first time. While this film was far from perfect, and the (anti) hero finally gets the girl, even though he probably doesn't deserve her, its still a satisfying film. It has some very funny moments as well but mostly, its simple and light and enjoyable. It won't change your life but its worth a look.
Anyway, that's all for today. I promise the next blog will have something about Princess and Little Man.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Absorbent and porous and yellow is he (I have the SpongeBob Squarepants tune stuck in my head)
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
And then there was Poo!
Welcome back for the very first time today! Yes, I have been known to listen to the Twelfth Man. Its a challenge to find new and exciting ways to start my blog, finish my blog and put something interesting in between. Lucky I have DW and the kids.
*** WARNING ***
The following contains graphic description that may offend some readers. Please look away or at least cover your eyes and look through a gap in your fingers. I read all my blogs that way, which is also why I type so slowly.
All children go through the stages of toilet training which vary in degrees of horror. For Princess, the most scary time we had was when she used to relax a little too much in the bath. For Little Man, that has not been a problem and currently all indications are that it will not be the same with him. However, he had his own Poo Incident in January.
It was a very hot day, too hot to wear anything but a nappy. Obviously I'm talking about Little Man now, not the rest of us -we were in suits of armour. Little Man was having some trouble getting to sleep that steamy morning. He had been up for a while but was grumpy so we put him back to bed for his morning sleep. He fussed for quite a while and we checked on him a few times but eventually he went quiet.
When he goes quiet, it means one of two things. The first and most desirable is that he has gone to sleep. The second and slightly less desirable is that he has found something to amuse himself. The latter is marked usually by giggling and singing and the rattling of the little bars on his tiny baby jail. However, on this particular day, he was quiet so we assumed he was asleep, and when we found him he was. The only problem was how he had amused himself before he fell asleep.
We use disposable nappies which have little grip tabs. These are very effective and are easy for an adult to apply and remove but far more difficult for little finger to undo. Not impossible though. At some point most kids probably figure out how to undo these tabs and by this stage they are also starting to become aware of the purpose of said nappy. However, the first time those little fingers find their way inside a nappy, either by undoing or just wiggling determinedly, hilarity ensues. Whacky fun for all. Or not.
DW found Little Man in his..."state of self decoration" when she noticed an unpleasant smell outside his room. Now when I say unpleasant, I mean horrific. And when I say noticed, I mean it hit like a hammer to the face. From my vantage point, I saw her go through a doorway and come staggering back, her nose bleeding and offended as she fell to her knees and emptied her stomach. That may be a slight exaggeration.
Anyway, we rushed in to see what terrible thing had befallen our little boy, only to find him sleeping, well, like a baby. Happy as a pig in... He was covered from head to foot. His bed was equally defiled. Apparently there was sufficent left for hurling around the room. He seemed to have concentrated on hitting Princess' bed. It was probably lucky she wasn't in it at the time. Amusingly, none had actually hit the fan we had cooling the room.
So we decided the best course of action was to give him a shower immediately. DW decided she would be the one to get in the shower to clean him and for a moment I thought, cool, I don't have to do it. Unfortunately, that left me with the task of picking the sleeping child up out of his quagmire and carrying him to the shower for DW to deal with. So I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath and re-entered the house.
Because the day was so warm and we had the fan on, one side of Little Man had dried and become like a kind of crispy shell. However, the side he had been lying on and sweating, was now extremely slippery. And he was somewhat surprised to be woken up and flailed about, making things extra difficult. My plan to hold him at arms length didn't work and he had already put his poo covered feet all over my shirt anyway. So I gritted my teeth even more, kept holding my breath, popped him on my hip and carried him to the shower. He was dazed and confused and one of his eyes couldn't open properly.
I delivered him to DW and proceeded to change my own clothes while she scrubbed him in the shower. I had to find a nail brush for him before I confronted the scene of the crime. It took quite some time to clean up, but eventually I found all the debris. At least I thought I had. When the smell still permeated the house several hours later, I had to go hunting again, and found a couple of culprits hiding stealthily beneath the cupboard.
I had all the windows opened, had removed every item of bedding and clothing that had been soiled, cleaned spots on the carpet and had two fans going crazy just to disperse the smell. I even started spraying various deodorisers into the room, along with a can of Brut, but still the smell lingered. For two days. However, we have been lucky and Little man has not repeated his actions. We are not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot, but we remain hopeful that we have experienced the one and only Poo Incident.
Anyway, you asked for it and there it is. The Poo Incident. Let us never speak of it again.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Everyone wonders if the little light stays on when you close the fridge, but does anyone wonder if its still cold inside? Just me then.
Welcome back for the very first time today! Yes, I have been known to listen to the Twelfth Man. Its a challenge to find new and exciting ways to start my blog, finish my blog and put something interesting in between. Lucky I have DW and the kids.
*** WARNING ***
The following contains graphic description that may offend some readers. Please look away or at least cover your eyes and look through a gap in your fingers. I read all my blogs that way, which is also why I type so slowly.
All children go through the stages of toilet training which vary in degrees of horror. For Princess, the most scary time we had was when she used to relax a little too much in the bath. For Little Man, that has not been a problem and currently all indications are that it will not be the same with him. However, he had his own Poo Incident in January.
It was a very hot day, too hot to wear anything but a nappy. Obviously I'm talking about Little Man now, not the rest of us -we were in suits of armour. Little Man was having some trouble getting to sleep that steamy morning. He had been up for a while but was grumpy so we put him back to bed for his morning sleep. He fussed for quite a while and we checked on him a few times but eventually he went quiet.
When he goes quiet, it means one of two things. The first and most desirable is that he has gone to sleep. The second and slightly less desirable is that he has found something to amuse himself. The latter is marked usually by giggling and singing and the rattling of the little bars on his tiny baby jail. However, on this particular day, he was quiet so we assumed he was asleep, and when we found him he was. The only problem was how he had amused himself before he fell asleep.
We use disposable nappies which have little grip tabs. These are very effective and are easy for an adult to apply and remove but far more difficult for little finger to undo. Not impossible though. At some point most kids probably figure out how to undo these tabs and by this stage they are also starting to become aware of the purpose of said nappy. However, the first time those little fingers find their way inside a nappy, either by undoing or just wiggling determinedly, hilarity ensues. Whacky fun for all. Or not.
DW found Little Man in his..."state of self decoration" when she noticed an unpleasant smell outside his room. Now when I say unpleasant, I mean horrific. And when I say noticed, I mean it hit like a hammer to the face. From my vantage point, I saw her go through a doorway and come staggering back, her nose bleeding and offended as she fell to her knees and emptied her stomach. That may be a slight exaggeration.
Anyway, we rushed in to see what terrible thing had befallen our little boy, only to find him sleeping, well, like a baby. Happy as a pig in... He was covered from head to foot. His bed was equally defiled. Apparently there was sufficent left for hurling around the room. He seemed to have concentrated on hitting Princess' bed. It was probably lucky she wasn't in it at the time. Amusingly, none had actually hit the fan we had cooling the room.
So we decided the best course of action was to give him a shower immediately. DW decided she would be the one to get in the shower to clean him and for a moment I thought, cool, I don't have to do it. Unfortunately, that left me with the task of picking the sleeping child up out of his quagmire and carrying him to the shower for DW to deal with. So I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath and re-entered the house.
Because the day was so warm and we had the fan on, one side of Little Man had dried and become like a kind of crispy shell. However, the side he had been lying on and sweating, was now extremely slippery. And he was somewhat surprised to be woken up and flailed about, making things extra difficult. My plan to hold him at arms length didn't work and he had already put his poo covered feet all over my shirt anyway. So I gritted my teeth even more, kept holding my breath, popped him on my hip and carried him to the shower. He was dazed and confused and one of his eyes couldn't open properly.
I delivered him to DW and proceeded to change my own clothes while she scrubbed him in the shower. I had to find a nail brush for him before I confronted the scene of the crime. It took quite some time to clean up, but eventually I found all the debris. At least I thought I had. When the smell still permeated the house several hours later, I had to go hunting again, and found a couple of culprits hiding stealthily beneath the cupboard.
I had all the windows opened, had removed every item of bedding and clothing that had been soiled, cleaned spots on the carpet and had two fans going crazy just to disperse the smell. I even started spraying various deodorisers into the room, along with a can of Brut, but still the smell lingered. For two days. However, we have been lucky and Little man has not repeated his actions. We are not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot, but we remain hopeful that we have experienced the one and only Poo Incident.
Anyway, you asked for it and there it is. The Poo Incident. Let us never speak of it again.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Everyone wonders if the little light stays on when you close the fridge, but does anyone wonder if its still cold inside? Just me then.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Good morning all. I'm back. Now don't look at me like that! I know where you live. Obviously that's only true of the people I know. Those I don't know, you can look at me any way you want. I don't care.
Anyway, I know I said I would be posting more often this year and I still fully intend to. I've just come back from leave and I haven't been writing my blog while away. I have a very good reason for that. But now I will do as I said I would and write 100 blogs for the year (98 to go - after this one). Fortunately I did jot down a couple of things to mention while I was away.
This year started off pretty much like the last few. DW and I promised each other that we would do everything we could to try to have a good year, a positive year, a year of self exploration and fulfillment of goals. A year we could look back on and say ""We achieved something good and valuable this year" rather than "Holy crap! How did we get through that year?" As usual we looked at our previous year's goals and New Year resolutions and had a good laugh and decided what to set for ourselves this year. Pretty standard stuff. Having failed quite spectacularly to achieve all but two of my 2006 goals, I decided I needed to set the bar much higher this year. I'll let you know how that goes.
So far, we've had January. I'm lucky there are more than two months in a year or I'd be halfway to failing again. And I'd be a little over 385 years old. So, I now look to February to counter balance January and move forward from there.
On the family front, DW has resumed her quest for two world titles this year. WHTMF (Who Has The Most Fabric) and the more prestigious WHTMPOTGAAGM (Who Has The Most Projects On The Go At Any Given Moment). I don't think she is winning yet but I know she is trying her very best.
Princess starts kinder this week and we are all VERY happy about it. She is getting a little stir crazy at home and if there were a prize for that, Princess would not only win it, she would probably have the trophy named after her for all future generations. She has reached the stage of mental development where she tries to express every single thought in her head and is constantly thinking up ways of causing trouble and being able to talk her way out of it. Kind of like a short, blonde Houdini if Houdini were a verbal escape artist. And also not very good at it. You see, Princess believes the crap she spews out while trying to explain why Little Man is lying face down on the ground with her footprint on his back. She is committed to whatever story she dreams up and seems to believe that the more far-fetched (and therefore more unprovable) an explanation is, the more likely we are to accept it. So we are all looking forward to her going back to kinder.
Little Man is moving forward in his own way. No longer the quiet little boy of days gone by, he has decided that Princess' shadow is not for him. He knows he can hurt her and will stand his ground, though he seems to forget that she can also hurt him and usually does. That said, they have started to enjoy playing together, at least for a little while, and it warms the heart to see it. Unfortunately the game they like playing most together is who can squeal the loudest and a warm heart does nothing to protect your ears.
Anyway, there's a lot more to tell and 11 months to tell it so I will leave the rest until next time. Who knows, maybe I'll even be ready to talk about the event that has become known in our house as "The Poo Incident".
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Always leave them wanting more.
Anyway, I know I said I would be posting more often this year and I still fully intend to. I've just come back from leave and I haven't been writing my blog while away. I have a very good reason for that. But now I will do as I said I would and write 100 blogs for the year (98 to go - after this one). Fortunately I did jot down a couple of things to mention while I was away.
This year started off pretty much like the last few. DW and I promised each other that we would do everything we could to try to have a good year, a positive year, a year of self exploration and fulfillment of goals. A year we could look back on and say ""We achieved something good and valuable this year" rather than "Holy crap! How did we get through that year?" As usual we looked at our previous year's goals and New Year resolutions and had a good laugh and decided what to set for ourselves this year. Pretty standard stuff. Having failed quite spectacularly to achieve all but two of my 2006 goals, I decided I needed to set the bar much higher this year. I'll let you know how that goes.
So far, we've had January. I'm lucky there are more than two months in a year or I'd be halfway to failing again. And I'd be a little over 385 years old. So, I now look to February to counter balance January and move forward from there.
On the family front, DW has resumed her quest for two world titles this year. WHTMF (Who Has The Most Fabric) and the more prestigious WHTMPOTGAAGM (Who Has The Most Projects On The Go At Any Given Moment). I don't think she is winning yet but I know she is trying her very best.
Princess starts kinder this week and we are all VERY happy about it. She is getting a little stir crazy at home and if there were a prize for that, Princess would not only win it, she would probably have the trophy named after her for all future generations. She has reached the stage of mental development where she tries to express every single thought in her head and is constantly thinking up ways of causing trouble and being able to talk her way out of it. Kind of like a short, blonde Houdini if Houdini were a verbal escape artist. And also not very good at it. You see, Princess believes the crap she spews out while trying to explain why Little Man is lying face down on the ground with her footprint on his back. She is committed to whatever story she dreams up and seems to believe that the more far-fetched (and therefore more unprovable) an explanation is, the more likely we are to accept it. So we are all looking forward to her going back to kinder.
Little Man is moving forward in his own way. No longer the quiet little boy of days gone by, he has decided that Princess' shadow is not for him. He knows he can hurt her and will stand his ground, though he seems to forget that she can also hurt him and usually does. That said, they have started to enjoy playing together, at least for a little while, and it warms the heart to see it. Unfortunately the game they like playing most together is who can squeal the loudest and a warm heart does nothing to protect your ears.
Anyway, there's a lot more to tell and 11 months to tell it so I will leave the rest until next time. Who knows, maybe I'll even be ready to talk about the event that has become known in our house as "The Poo Incident".
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Always leave them wanting more.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Happy New Year! What?!? It started a week ago? My brain hasn't quite fully registered that we have started a whole new year. This year I turn 35. I will have been working for my employer for 11 years and Princess and Little Man turn 5 and 2 respectively. And still I refuse to grow up. It seems that I probably should but I have decided to wait until I am 40. Some say life begins at 40. I think I will start to feel like a grown-up at 40. I'm also postponing my mid-life crisis until I'm 65, so that when I decide to radically change my life and buy a flying porsche (which I'm sure they will be making by then), I can use my retirement money. And yes, DW would probably have something to say about that, but I suspect she will drowning in fabric and quilts and craft supplies by that stage, and may even welcome a flying car, if only to get to the perimeter of our ever-expanding stockpile. Her mantra is "She who dies with the most fabric, wins!"
So what does this year hold in store? As I have no idea, I do what most other people do: I plan a bunch of things that I will probably review with disappointment at the end of the year. Some people call them New Years Resolutions. Others call it turning over a new leaf. I call it "bunch of things", (which incidentally is why DW names my short films).
Ok, so where to start. Last year I wanted to post 100 blogs but then dropped the target to 80 when I realised I was going to be well short. I then missed that target as well. But this year, I am going to try to actually hit the big 100. Also, I am planning to watch 100 films this year, so if nothing else, I will be able to write about each film. I should mention that of the 100 films, at least 50 must be films I have not seen before. Last year, DW and I watched around 60 new films, so we thought we'd up the ante this year.
I'm also planning to finish my first novel that I have been plodding away at for the last few years. I hope that doesn't come as a surprise, that a hapless blogger might also be a frustrated novelist. It probably should go without saying. Anyway, I have taken January off work so that I can make some serious headway and it is going slowly. DW has been very supportive, as she has been all along, but I am still having trouble gaining momentum. Writing at home can be difficult as the kids are like time-vacuums. And even if I'm not looking after them directly, they know I'm about and when DW can't respond to them because of housework, they come looking for me. Also, they an affect your storytelling. I have to go back over my writing and remove references like "yucky" and "big girl pants" and I'm pretty sure evil overlords don't get sent to "the naughty spot". Still, I have made some progress and I am mostly enjoying the Writerly life, but I'd need to write far more if it would ever have a chance of being a reality. I guess I'd better keep my day job.
Ok, before I stop today, I'd better tell you what movie I opened my "bunch of things" challenge with. Mike Myers' "So I Married and Axe Murderer". I have seen this movie before but DW and I both love it, even more than the Austin Powers films and I bought it for her for Christmas. Anyway, its a very clever little film and though Mike Myers himself can be a little annoying after a while, his portayal of his own Scottish father is fantastic. "HEAD! PANTS! NOW!" So if you haven't seen it, make sure you do. If only to sing along to the Bay City Rollers.
Ciao!
Thought for the day: Where HAVE all the flowers gone?
So what does this year hold in store? As I have no idea, I do what most other people do: I plan a bunch of things that I will probably review with disappointment at the end of the year. Some people call them New Years Resolutions. Others call it turning over a new leaf. I call it "bunch of things", (which incidentally is why DW names my short films).
Ok, so where to start. Last year I wanted to post 100 blogs but then dropped the target to 80 when I realised I was going to be well short. I then missed that target as well. But this year, I am going to try to actually hit the big 100. Also, I am planning to watch 100 films this year, so if nothing else, I will be able to write about each film. I should mention that of the 100 films, at least 50 must be films I have not seen before. Last year, DW and I watched around 60 new films, so we thought we'd up the ante this year.
I'm also planning to finish my first novel that I have been plodding away at for the last few years. I hope that doesn't come as a surprise, that a hapless blogger might also be a frustrated novelist. It probably should go without saying. Anyway, I have taken January off work so that I can make some serious headway and it is going slowly. DW has been very supportive, as she has been all along, but I am still having trouble gaining momentum. Writing at home can be difficult as the kids are like time-vacuums. And even if I'm not looking after them directly, they know I'm about and when DW can't respond to them because of housework, they come looking for me. Also, they an affect your storytelling. I have to go back over my writing and remove references like "yucky" and "big girl pants" and I'm pretty sure evil overlords don't get sent to "the naughty spot". Still, I have made some progress and I am mostly enjoying the Writerly life, but I'd need to write far more if it would ever have a chance of being a reality. I guess I'd better keep my day job.
Ok, before I stop today, I'd better tell you what movie I opened my "bunch of things" challenge with. Mike Myers' "So I Married and Axe Murderer". I have seen this movie before but DW and I both love it, even more than the Austin Powers films and I bought it for her for Christmas. Anyway, its a very clever little film and though Mike Myers himself can be a little annoying after a while, his portayal of his own Scottish father is fantastic. "HEAD! PANTS! NOW!" So if you haven't seen it, make sure you do. If only to sing along to the Bay City Rollers.
Ciao!
Thought for the day: Where HAVE all the flowers gone?
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Hello there. And yes, I mean you. I may not know who you are but you are reading my blog so... hello. Again. As you may or may not have guessed, I've taken a little break from blogging but I am back in the saddle. However, don't expect too much from today's blog - its kind of a toe-dipping. I know I said I would try and reach 100 posts by the end of the year but I'm thinking maybe I should revise that down to maybe 80. This post will be #72 so I think 80 is a more realistic target.
Well, the silly season is upon us. Christmas parties, presents, alcohol and Windex for the photocopier. I try to avoid being silly at work. However, it doesn't try to avoid me. Its also a time for Performance Reviews and I for one would like to see these reviews shifted to a more somber time, such as the end of the financial year. I'm usually more somber in the middle of Winter. Still, its not up to me so I just try to make the best of it.
In any Performance Review I like to open with a joke. This has rarely gone down well but I think I've got a really good one this year. Then its a matter of addressing the KPIs for the past year. I tell my boss which ones I decided to do and he tells me stuff about pride in my work and loyalty to the business and so on and on and on. Last year I drank two litres of Pepsi Max before our meeting and spent most of the time stifling burps. While I have never actually seen myself do it, I think I must look VERY funny trying to stifle a two-litre-pepsi-max burp.
It is possible that I am slightly addicted to Pepsi Max. I do drink at least one can a day, more if I can get away with it. Luckily its good for me. It has the Heart Foundation "MAX" of approval so it can't be too bad. I keep telling DW that "its ok. There's no sugar" and she gives me a withering look.
Pepsi Max makes me happy. When I'm hot it makes me cool. When I'm uncool, it makes me cool. When I'm already cool, it makes me damn cool. And burping makes my kids laugh. They get me.
I should make something clear. I do not like Pepsi or Pepsi Diet. I do like Coke, though I find it too sweet - which is saying something because I have a sweet tooth that would frighten Willy Wonka. I can drink Diet Coke and I also like Vanilla Coke, Fanta and Lemonade. Solo also makes me look cool but only when I'm angry. So for me, its Pepsi Max. I should also say to anyone who even visits my house, if I offer you a can of Pepsi Max, and you accept it, drink the whole thing. Otherwise you'll have me reaching for a can of Solo.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: It really is ok.
Well, the silly season is upon us. Christmas parties, presents, alcohol and Windex for the photocopier. I try to avoid being silly at work. However, it doesn't try to avoid me. Its also a time for Performance Reviews and I for one would like to see these reviews shifted to a more somber time, such as the end of the financial year. I'm usually more somber in the middle of Winter. Still, its not up to me so I just try to make the best of it.
In any Performance Review I like to open with a joke. This has rarely gone down well but I think I've got a really good one this year. Then its a matter of addressing the KPIs for the past year. I tell my boss which ones I decided to do and he tells me stuff about pride in my work and loyalty to the business and so on and on and on. Last year I drank two litres of Pepsi Max before our meeting and spent most of the time stifling burps. While I have never actually seen myself do it, I think I must look VERY funny trying to stifle a two-litre-pepsi-max burp.
It is possible that I am slightly addicted to Pepsi Max. I do drink at least one can a day, more if I can get away with it. Luckily its good for me. It has the Heart Foundation "MAX" of approval so it can't be too bad. I keep telling DW that "its ok. There's no sugar" and she gives me a withering look.
Pepsi Max makes me happy. When I'm hot it makes me cool. When I'm uncool, it makes me cool. When I'm already cool, it makes me damn cool. And burping makes my kids laugh. They get me.
I should make something clear. I do not like Pepsi or Pepsi Diet. I do like Coke, though I find it too sweet - which is saying something because I have a sweet tooth that would frighten Willy Wonka. I can drink Diet Coke and I also like Vanilla Coke, Fanta and Lemonade. Solo also makes me look cool but only when I'm angry. So for me, its Pepsi Max. I should also say to anyone who even visits my house, if I offer you a can of Pepsi Max, and you accept it, drink the whole thing. Otherwise you'll have me reaching for a can of Solo.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: It really is ok.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Last week was a very hard week. We all had to come to terms with the loss of the triplets as best we could. Fortunately, almost all of my family and my sister-in-law's family were able to attend the funeral on Friday. We all wanted to show our love and support for my brother and his wife and their daughter. However, a few of my family were too far away to be able to come home and they must have felt that distance most keenly on Friday. As a combined family, we aren't looking for a way to get over this, but rather a way forward for all of us, especially for my brother and his wife. The funeral was a big step.
I have been to many funerals yet none have ever touched me so deeply. I have been fortunate in so far as the previous funerals were for people of advanced years, and it was easy to look back on their lives and celebrate all they had been and done. But this time, only their desperate struggle to survive marked the short time the triplets were with us. Yet even though they were here such a short and troubled period, we all had made a place for them in our hearts. Though it was very difficult for everyone, we all needed to come together and share our grief and to say goodbye to Ebony, Macey and Zoe.
I write this blog for many reasons and one is that it shows my thinking at a particular time in my life, as a sort of diary. While mostly light-hearted, the blog also serves as a way to communicate thoughts and emotions that I am not always able to do otherwise. Just as I needed to write about the triplets in a previous entry, I want to write about their funeral today. I want to be able to look back on this entry and remember how I felt at the time.
Because Princess was very upset upon hearing that the triplets had died, we decided the funeral would probably be too traumatic for her and organized for a friend of DW to look after her and Little Man. Its great to have good friends willing to help in such a situation and the Mum's group are the next best thing to family. We explained that we were going to say goodbye to the triplets but that it would be very sad and she might be upset. Amazingly, Princess has been very mature about the whole thing and still remembers the triplets in her night prayers.
I was pleased to see so many people, family and friends, present to show their support. My older brother, who is a deacon in the Catholic Church, was able to perform the ceremony. It was simple and beautiful. My father read a passage from the bible and my sister-in-law's sister read a wonderfully heartfelt poem for the girls. I doubt anybody could help but to share her tears.
On the altar were three candles with a name on each one. Also a photo of the little babies in white dresses, beautiful and tiny. Beneath a bright bunch of flowers was the single small white coffin. Behind the altar, made up with children's letters and arranged to intersect each other, were the girl's names again.
I remember feeling utterly helpless when I watched DW racked with pain as she gave birth to Little Man. I couldn't make the pain stop no matter how much she begged me but at least then I knew it would all be over soon. Again I felt utterly helpless as my brother stepped forward at the end of the service, took up the small white coffin and carried it alone out of the chapel. The pain he and his wife felt would not end soon, and they would not have the joy of watching these children grow up. It was the hardest thing I have seen, watching a man carry his children to their grave. I cannot imagine how hard it would be to do.
We arrived at the cemetry and I remember wishing idly that cemetries didn't have a children's section. Again the service was brief and after the coffin was lowered into the ground, we all released our helium filled white balloons. Six pink balloons, two for each of the girls and released by my brother and his wife, danced among the tumble of white as the gentle breeze lifted them all into the perfect blue sky. We all watched for several minutes as they shrank into the blue and said goodbye to Ebony, Macey and Zoe, as the little pink balloons became too tiny to see.
After a while we all went back to my brother's in-laws place for the wake. It was an emotional funeral and I think everyone felt better having shared the experience. I don't know if my brother and his wife felt the same, but I hope that having friends and family around them made saying goodbye a little easier. Throughout this whole ordeal, my brother and his wife have been incredibly composed. I doubt I could have been as strong.
I spoke to DW last night about everything and she mentioned something I hadn't considered. A friend of hers had a friend whose little boy died a few days after birth. This lady had many family and friends as well and received many cards expressing condolence. However, what she really wanted was for people to congratulate her on having a son. She had lost him and she was devastated but she was also proud of her little boy and wanted people to remember that he had been alive, and not to think only of his passing. I don't know how my brother feels and I know he will tell me if he wants to. But even if it was only for an hour and a half, he got to meet his daughters, living and breathing. He and his wife deserve to be congratulated on the birth of their three daughters. I remember the moment I held each of my own children for the first time and I hope that despite the sorrow of knowing how soon it would end, my brother experienced that moment of joy and wonder of cradling your own child for the first time.
Over the last two weeks I have heard several stories of women who have lost their babies during pregnancy. It seems that each one remembers the child they carried as something precious and I think it can be all too easy for those of us removed from such events to overlook the significance. But for a few short weeks, my nieces premature birth would have been a miscarriage. But for a few short weeks, they might have survived. For a parent, a week can pass in a flash and a whole lifetime can exist in a few short moments. I am sorry for those who only share their child's life for such a short time. I am sorry for those who don't even get that. The only thing I can do is treasure the moments I have with my own children and believe me, I do.
Ciao!
I have been to many funerals yet none have ever touched me so deeply. I have been fortunate in so far as the previous funerals were for people of advanced years, and it was easy to look back on their lives and celebrate all they had been and done. But this time, only their desperate struggle to survive marked the short time the triplets were with us. Yet even though they were here such a short and troubled period, we all had made a place for them in our hearts. Though it was very difficult for everyone, we all needed to come together and share our grief and to say goodbye to Ebony, Macey and Zoe.
I write this blog for many reasons and one is that it shows my thinking at a particular time in my life, as a sort of diary. While mostly light-hearted, the blog also serves as a way to communicate thoughts and emotions that I am not always able to do otherwise. Just as I needed to write about the triplets in a previous entry, I want to write about their funeral today. I want to be able to look back on this entry and remember how I felt at the time.
Because Princess was very upset upon hearing that the triplets had died, we decided the funeral would probably be too traumatic for her and organized for a friend of DW to look after her and Little Man. Its great to have good friends willing to help in such a situation and the Mum's group are the next best thing to family. We explained that we were going to say goodbye to the triplets but that it would be very sad and she might be upset. Amazingly, Princess has been very mature about the whole thing and still remembers the triplets in her night prayers.
I was pleased to see so many people, family and friends, present to show their support. My older brother, who is a deacon in the Catholic Church, was able to perform the ceremony. It was simple and beautiful. My father read a passage from the bible and my sister-in-law's sister read a wonderfully heartfelt poem for the girls. I doubt anybody could help but to share her tears.
On the altar were three candles with a name on each one. Also a photo of the little babies in white dresses, beautiful and tiny. Beneath a bright bunch of flowers was the single small white coffin. Behind the altar, made up with children's letters and arranged to intersect each other, were the girl's names again.
I remember feeling utterly helpless when I watched DW racked with pain as she gave birth to Little Man. I couldn't make the pain stop no matter how much she begged me but at least then I knew it would all be over soon. Again I felt utterly helpless as my brother stepped forward at the end of the service, took up the small white coffin and carried it alone out of the chapel. The pain he and his wife felt would not end soon, and they would not have the joy of watching these children grow up. It was the hardest thing I have seen, watching a man carry his children to their grave. I cannot imagine how hard it would be to do.
We arrived at the cemetry and I remember wishing idly that cemetries didn't have a children's section. Again the service was brief and after the coffin was lowered into the ground, we all released our helium filled white balloons. Six pink balloons, two for each of the girls and released by my brother and his wife, danced among the tumble of white as the gentle breeze lifted them all into the perfect blue sky. We all watched for several minutes as they shrank into the blue and said goodbye to Ebony, Macey and Zoe, as the little pink balloons became too tiny to see.
After a while we all went back to my brother's in-laws place for the wake. It was an emotional funeral and I think everyone felt better having shared the experience. I don't know if my brother and his wife felt the same, but I hope that having friends and family around them made saying goodbye a little easier. Throughout this whole ordeal, my brother and his wife have been incredibly composed. I doubt I could have been as strong.
I spoke to DW last night about everything and she mentioned something I hadn't considered. A friend of hers had a friend whose little boy died a few days after birth. This lady had many family and friends as well and received many cards expressing condolence. However, what she really wanted was for people to congratulate her on having a son. She had lost him and she was devastated but she was also proud of her little boy and wanted people to remember that he had been alive, and not to think only of his passing. I don't know how my brother feels and I know he will tell me if he wants to. But even if it was only for an hour and a half, he got to meet his daughters, living and breathing. He and his wife deserve to be congratulated on the birth of their three daughters. I remember the moment I held each of my own children for the first time and I hope that despite the sorrow of knowing how soon it would end, my brother experienced that moment of joy and wonder of cradling your own child for the first time.
Over the last two weeks I have heard several stories of women who have lost their babies during pregnancy. It seems that each one remembers the child they carried as something precious and I think it can be all too easy for those of us removed from such events to overlook the significance. But for a few short weeks, my nieces premature birth would have been a miscarriage. But for a few short weeks, they might have survived. For a parent, a week can pass in a flash and a whole lifetime can exist in a few short moments. I am sorry for those who only share their child's life for such a short time. I am sorry for those who don't even get that. The only thing I can do is treasure the moments I have with my own children and believe me, I do.
Ciao!
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I don't play computer games very often (despite what some may think) but I like to keep up with the latest graphics state-of-the-art. I downloaded the Age of Empires III Demo and its really quite impressive (and addictive). There are only a few games I've really gotten "in to" and Age of Empires II was one of them. I remember playing it the first time and being hooked almost straight away.
For those of you who aren't familiar with the game, you are a settler on some land and you have to build up a community and defend your community against your opponents, computer or human. You can start the game at various levels but the most fun is when you start with just yourself in some pre-industrial era. You take on the characteristics of a particular race and I always enjoyed being the Britons against the Persians.
The game comes with a simple tutorial to get you started and then you're on your own. I started with one little man whom I had build a Town Centre. You need a TC in order to do anything, and the first thing you need to do is "build" some villagers, who in turn build farms, mills, mines, barracks, forts and so on. You need to farm the land for food, cut down trees for wood and dig mines for stone and gold. As you progress, you can advance your technology, build up an army and fortify your town. I had just gotten my town thriving for the first time with 50 villagers, chopping, ploughing, digging and generally being very happy and content, like my own little Amish community, when the bloody Persians came in with an army and looted, pillaged and destroyed everything, the bastards.
I was angry and I wanted revenge. So I found another part of the game where you can "customise" a scenario. So I set up my own scenario with a huge map, thousands of trees, heaps of gold and stone mines and one computer controlled Persian in one corner and my little Briton in the other, both shepherds. Rather than start up with an amount of food, I gave each side 100 sheep to use for food as required. Then the game began.
Given how quickly the Persians attacked me last time, I had my shepherd quickly build a Town Centre and several villagers, expanded my housing facilities (increases your available population), started slaughtering sheep for food and set about mining for stone so I could build a wall across the only path through the mighty forest (I created the map you know). And it was indeed a mighty wall, three layers of solid stone. Even the bloody Persians would have to slow down for that one, or cut their way through the forest to get around it.
Once I knew I was safe, I maximised my workforce. Most games default to allowing 75 people per side but I wanted revenge, remember. I upped the ante to allow 200 per side. I had people building houses, mills, mines, market places, fishing boats, docks, churches and universities. These things might not seem relevent to a plan for revenge but they help advance your technology and I was kicking butt in the research into advanced weaponry stakes.
I had become a mighty nation in just a few short hours and had a HUGE store of food, wood, stone and gold. You need these things when planning to declare war on Persia. You also need barracks to build soldiers, stables to build cavalry and forts to build war machines. I was ready but I had one painful task to complete before my invasion would begin.
I had already max'ed out my population with villagers and couldn't build any soldiers or war units. D'Oh! After a bit of searching I found an ominous skull lurking in the bottom corner of the control panel. It would allow my to kill off my own villagers to make way for soldiers and war units. I was torn, these little pixel people had worked so hard and had paid their taxes and now they were going to die just so I could satisfy my thirst for revenge and go destroy the mighty Persian nation. I figured they would understand and wiped them all out, except for one, who could repair the wall if I needed it.
So my one, lonely little villager stood beside the mightiest of walls, surrounded by 199 angry soldiers, cavalrymen and war machines of every sort. I had machines to fling fire, shoot dozens of bolts of arrows and to crush infantry. I had priests to cast spells at the opposition to turn their own men against each other and cause chaos within the enemy ranks. I had pikemen, swordsmen, guys with clubs, longbows, maces and possibly nun-chuks.
I had only one small problem. I couldn't get through the mightiest of walls.
Again, after some searching, it turned out to be quite lucky I hadn't killed that one villager because he was the only character that could dismantle the wall. So after he did that, I killed him and built another cannon and prepared to charge.
It was a carefully planned attack. I would send in the long range weapons to take out the outlying defenders. They would fall to the Persian defence towers so in went my seige machines, surrounded by infantry to protect them. I would send 50 riflemen to the edge of the Persian town to prevent new soldiers being created while my priests turned the existing enemy soldiers against each other. I would have my pikemen rush in at the cavalry while my swordsmen would rush to the town centre and attack. My cannons would destroy the barracks, stables and forts to prevent any new defenders being built. I charged, not knowing what awaited my battle-hungry troops. I didn't know whether the Persians had focussed on infantry or defences, long range weapons or face-to-face combat. Had they developed their technology or focussed on accumulating wealth? Would they use battle elephants? Whateve they had done in the 200 hundred years that had elapsed so far during the game play, I was confident I had built the best army in the whole land, enough even to defeat the once mighty and overly cocky Persian empire.
Imagine my surprise to find one Persian shepherd and 100 sheep.
It turns out that the lowest difficulty setting, which I had used to "give myself a fighting chance" has the opposition maintain the status quo until attacked. As I hadn't given this one little Persian shepherd anything to fret about for over two hundred years, he hadn't felt the need to evolve. He was also now over two hundred years old. I couldn't kill him. My soldiers only attack other soldiers or war buildings by default, but you can have them attack villagers if you need to. But I couldn't do that to this poor old lonely guy. So I took his sheep and had my priest turn him against himself and won the game.
And that is the story of how I beat the Persian Empire.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: If we didn't have wars, would we have computers?
For those of you who aren't familiar with the game, you are a settler on some land and you have to build up a community and defend your community against your opponents, computer or human. You can start the game at various levels but the most fun is when you start with just yourself in some pre-industrial era. You take on the characteristics of a particular race and I always enjoyed being the Britons against the Persians.
The game comes with a simple tutorial to get you started and then you're on your own. I started with one little man whom I had build a Town Centre. You need a TC in order to do anything, and the first thing you need to do is "build" some villagers, who in turn build farms, mills, mines, barracks, forts and so on. You need to farm the land for food, cut down trees for wood and dig mines for stone and gold. As you progress, you can advance your technology, build up an army and fortify your town. I had just gotten my town thriving for the first time with 50 villagers, chopping, ploughing, digging and generally being very happy and content, like my own little Amish community, when the bloody Persians came in with an army and looted, pillaged and destroyed everything, the bastards.
I was angry and I wanted revenge. So I found another part of the game where you can "customise" a scenario. So I set up my own scenario with a huge map, thousands of trees, heaps of gold and stone mines and one computer controlled Persian in one corner and my little Briton in the other, both shepherds. Rather than start up with an amount of food, I gave each side 100 sheep to use for food as required. Then the game began.
Given how quickly the Persians attacked me last time, I had my shepherd quickly build a Town Centre and several villagers, expanded my housing facilities (increases your available population), started slaughtering sheep for food and set about mining for stone so I could build a wall across the only path through the mighty forest (I created the map you know). And it was indeed a mighty wall, three layers of solid stone. Even the bloody Persians would have to slow down for that one, or cut their way through the forest to get around it.
Once I knew I was safe, I maximised my workforce. Most games default to allowing 75 people per side but I wanted revenge, remember. I upped the ante to allow 200 per side. I had people building houses, mills, mines, market places, fishing boats, docks, churches and universities. These things might not seem relevent to a plan for revenge but they help advance your technology and I was kicking butt in the research into advanced weaponry stakes.
I had become a mighty nation in just a few short hours and had a HUGE store of food, wood, stone and gold. You need these things when planning to declare war on Persia. You also need barracks to build soldiers, stables to build cavalry and forts to build war machines. I was ready but I had one painful task to complete before my invasion would begin.
I had already max'ed out my population with villagers and couldn't build any soldiers or war units. D'Oh! After a bit of searching I found an ominous skull lurking in the bottom corner of the control panel. It would allow my to kill off my own villagers to make way for soldiers and war units. I was torn, these little pixel people had worked so hard and had paid their taxes and now they were going to die just so I could satisfy my thirst for revenge and go destroy the mighty Persian nation. I figured they would understand and wiped them all out, except for one, who could repair the wall if I needed it.
So my one, lonely little villager stood beside the mightiest of walls, surrounded by 199 angry soldiers, cavalrymen and war machines of every sort. I had machines to fling fire, shoot dozens of bolts of arrows and to crush infantry. I had priests to cast spells at the opposition to turn their own men against each other and cause chaos within the enemy ranks. I had pikemen, swordsmen, guys with clubs, longbows, maces and possibly nun-chuks.
I had only one small problem. I couldn't get through the mightiest of walls.
Again, after some searching, it turned out to be quite lucky I hadn't killed that one villager because he was the only character that could dismantle the wall. So after he did that, I killed him and built another cannon and prepared to charge.
It was a carefully planned attack. I would send in the long range weapons to take out the outlying defenders. They would fall to the Persian defence towers so in went my seige machines, surrounded by infantry to protect them. I would send 50 riflemen to the edge of the Persian town to prevent new soldiers being created while my priests turned the existing enemy soldiers against each other. I would have my pikemen rush in at the cavalry while my swordsmen would rush to the town centre and attack. My cannons would destroy the barracks, stables and forts to prevent any new defenders being built. I charged, not knowing what awaited my battle-hungry troops. I didn't know whether the Persians had focussed on infantry or defences, long range weapons or face-to-face combat. Had they developed their technology or focussed on accumulating wealth? Would they use battle elephants? Whateve they had done in the 200 hundred years that had elapsed so far during the game play, I was confident I had built the best army in the whole land, enough even to defeat the once mighty and overly cocky Persian empire.
Imagine my surprise to find one Persian shepherd and 100 sheep.
It turns out that the lowest difficulty setting, which I had used to "give myself a fighting chance" has the opposition maintain the status quo until attacked. As I hadn't given this one little Persian shepherd anything to fret about for over two hundred years, he hadn't felt the need to evolve. He was also now over two hundred years old. I couldn't kill him. My soldiers only attack other soldiers or war buildings by default, but you can have them attack villagers if you need to. But I couldn't do that to this poor old lonely guy. So I took his sheep and had my priest turn him against himself and won the game.
And that is the story of how I beat the Persian Empire.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: If we didn't have wars, would we have computers?
Monday, November 13, 2006
I'm really not sure how to write what I want to write today, so I will just write it.
Some of you may know that my brother and his wife have been expecting triplets. Unfortunately, on the 11th of November, 2006, at a mere 22.5 weeks, the three identical baby girls were born but did not survive. My brother and his wife were told by the doctors at 12 weeks that a twin-twin transfusion was occurring, which affected the development of the babies. They flew to Brisbane and had an Australian first surgery to separate the babies, and it appeared to be successful. My sister-in-law suffered some complications of her own but these were rectified as well as she and my brother did absolutely everything they possibly could to give the babies the best chance of survival.
I remember clearly the moment when my brother told me they were expecting a child. He and his wife had been hunting for a house for ages and had finally settled on a place. I thought he was calling me to tell me they had got the place but he had even better news. He was going to be a father again and he was proud as punch. Buying a house for the first time was just an aside for him now. He and his wife already have a beautiful little girl who is nearly two and they are wonderful parents, so DW and I were just as excited for them.
I also remember clearly the moment he told me the one baby was actually triplets. He told me I should sit down. He was absolutely stunned, as was everyone I told after that. I was very excited for him and a little jealous, because, you know, what a guy. My family and my sister-in-law's family all rallied around and started doing whatever we could to help them get ready. Its good to have so much family support so willingly given and I'm sure they both appreciated it, even if it was a little smothering.
When problems started occurring, we all feared the worst but all hoped and prayed for the best. Yet despite the uncertainty, my brother and his wife stayed strong and determined to give their babies the very best chance at life they could. They showed such courage and conviction as few of us will ever be called to show.
Three little girls, Ebony, Macey and Zoe, came into this world together and they left together. They will always be together in our minds and hearts. I wish I had had the chance to meet them as do all who were touched by their brief journey in this world. I wish my brother and his wife had been spared this loss. I wish their daughter had had the chance to play with her little sisters. Both familes will share my brother's and his wife's grief and will aid their recovery. None of us will ever forget these three little girls who now wait in heaven.
I wanted to write this as a tribute to Ebony, Macey and Zoe, as meagre as it is. Better tributes exist and I know very few people will ever read this. However, those of you who have, I want you to know how hard it has been to write and would ask you one favour. Please take a moment and spare a thought for these three little girls and the family they have left behind. That will be the best tribute I can offer them.
Thank you.
Some of you may know that my brother and his wife have been expecting triplets. Unfortunately, on the 11th of November, 2006, at a mere 22.5 weeks, the three identical baby girls were born but did not survive. My brother and his wife were told by the doctors at 12 weeks that a twin-twin transfusion was occurring, which affected the development of the babies. They flew to Brisbane and had an Australian first surgery to separate the babies, and it appeared to be successful. My sister-in-law suffered some complications of her own but these were rectified as well as she and my brother did absolutely everything they possibly could to give the babies the best chance of survival.
I remember clearly the moment when my brother told me they were expecting a child. He and his wife had been hunting for a house for ages and had finally settled on a place. I thought he was calling me to tell me they had got the place but he had even better news. He was going to be a father again and he was proud as punch. Buying a house for the first time was just an aside for him now. He and his wife already have a beautiful little girl who is nearly two and they are wonderful parents, so DW and I were just as excited for them.
I also remember clearly the moment he told me the one baby was actually triplets. He told me I should sit down. He was absolutely stunned, as was everyone I told after that. I was very excited for him and a little jealous, because, you know, what a guy. My family and my sister-in-law's family all rallied around and started doing whatever we could to help them get ready. Its good to have so much family support so willingly given and I'm sure they both appreciated it, even if it was a little smothering.
When problems started occurring, we all feared the worst but all hoped and prayed for the best. Yet despite the uncertainty, my brother and his wife stayed strong and determined to give their babies the very best chance at life they could. They showed such courage and conviction as few of us will ever be called to show.
Three little girls, Ebony, Macey and Zoe, came into this world together and they left together. They will always be together in our minds and hearts. I wish I had had the chance to meet them as do all who were touched by their brief journey in this world. I wish my brother and his wife had been spared this loss. I wish their daughter had had the chance to play with her little sisters. Both familes will share my brother's and his wife's grief and will aid their recovery. None of us will ever forget these three little girls who now wait in heaven.
I wanted to write this as a tribute to Ebony, Macey and Zoe, as meagre as it is. Better tributes exist and I know very few people will ever read this. However, those of you who have, I want you to know how hard it has been to write and would ask you one favour. Please take a moment and spare a thought for these three little girls and the family they have left behind. That will be the best tribute I can offer them.
Thank you.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Hello world! How is everybody? I am a little rusty having not written anything in nearly two weeks so I apologize for any spilling miskates. I can't remember what I wrote last time and I'm too lazy to check so I'll just press on.
Well, last weekend DWs parents decided to have a weekend away with some old family friends and all their respective children, grandchildren and partners. Somebody thought that all us Victorians would like to drive four and a half hours to NSW to a place that distinguishes itself from competing camp sites by having toilet paper. To be fair, it is a rather picturesque place situated right by the Murray River and we actually stayed in a very well appointed house large enough to sleep 13 people. Hardly roughing it. It was, however, four and a half hours away and we have Princess and Little Man to think of.
Little Man was great because he either slept or just watched the scenery go by. He was pretty laid back about the whole thing, though he did get a little grumpy and greatly appreciated a chance to stretch his legs during a break in the trip.
Princess was also pretty good and provided much of the entertainment on the way. She did sleep a little but, as we expected, not as much as we would have liked. But we were prepared. We had books on tape! More precisely, books on MP3 player and a set of headphones with a long lead. This enabled us to have the MP3 player with us in the front while she listened and read along in the back. It worked very well, except when the wrong book came up or she wasn't sure which page she was supposed to be on. When ever a problem occurred, she would yell louder than usual because she had the headphones on. She wasn't upset or anything, she was just letting us know. We also put some of her favourite songs on the player and this is where most of the entertainment for us came from. She would sing along loudly and out of tune to the bits she knew and mumble loudly and out of tune to the rest. All up, it could have been a lot worse.
We arrived in around mid afternoon and had a chance to settle in before the rest of the family arrived. DW made the mistake of telling Princess she could stay up until Grandma and Grandad arrived which was after ten that night. The poor kid's eyes were almost falling out of her head and she could barely string the words "I'm not sleepy" together. We did manage to get her into bed eventually and she did sleep until 7am which is pretty good for her. Little Man woke up several times through the night but mostly because his young cousin in the next room was having considerably greater difficulty settling.
The next day I played golf with my Father-in-Law, Shdan and DW's brothers, Shshaun and Shlockie. I'm not much of a golfer. I was being given advice from all sides, except the front, which as it happens, would probably have been the safest. I remembered to keep my head down, which seemed appropriate given the shame. By chance, my first hit off the tee was actually quite good. It was a par 3 hole and I took over ten strokes to get in the hole. I stop counting when I run out of fingers. In my defence, the greens were not grass but rather sandscrapes and hadn't been set up very well, with the lip of the hole slightly higher than the surrounding sand. This caused even the straightest putt to go astray. Not that any of mine were the straightest putt. It was just a little reassuring that others also experienced some difficulty.
My problem early on was my first hit off was nice and straight and while sitting only a few meters from the green, I hit the ball nearly as hard again, sending me WAY past. Every hole after that had something else wrong. Slicing, hooking, dribbling, missing, swearing, searching, swearing, searching, swearing, finding, hooking, swearing, searching. DW's dad was always the first into the bushes to help look for my ball but I think it may have also been to hide the giggling.
After much gnashing of teeth and miraculous findings of the ball, I managed to curtail my overshooting and a "house rule" brought my putting into single digits. In fact, I even managed to use the newly adopted "house rule" (which accounted for the poor sandscrapes) to par two holes in a row. It was time to retire and I skipped backed to the holiday house to tell DW who struggled to stop raising her eyebrow, causing it to quiver so hard it almost popped off.
Anyway, because I had a conference the next day, we had to head home before everyone else, so we packed up and bundled the kids into the car and started the long journey home. The kids were less well settled but we finally made it home at 10pm. That's pretty much the extent of our trip, except for Princess nagging and nagging to have a swim even though the pool was cold and the wind was colder. Grandma Shue braved the icy pond but no one else was brave enough. Little Man just ran about pulling at things and pressing buttons on the video player. Still, it was a nice, if a little brief, get away. Hopefully next time will be for a little longer.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Let the sneeze pass, then play the shot.
Well, last weekend DWs parents decided to have a weekend away with some old family friends and all their respective children, grandchildren and partners. Somebody thought that all us Victorians would like to drive four and a half hours to NSW to a place that distinguishes itself from competing camp sites by having toilet paper. To be fair, it is a rather picturesque place situated right by the Murray River and we actually stayed in a very well appointed house large enough to sleep 13 people. Hardly roughing it. It was, however, four and a half hours away and we have Princess and Little Man to think of.
Little Man was great because he either slept or just watched the scenery go by. He was pretty laid back about the whole thing, though he did get a little grumpy and greatly appreciated a chance to stretch his legs during a break in the trip.
Princess was also pretty good and provided much of the entertainment on the way. She did sleep a little but, as we expected, not as much as we would have liked. But we were prepared. We had books on tape! More precisely, books on MP3 player and a set of headphones with a long lead. This enabled us to have the MP3 player with us in the front while she listened and read along in the back. It worked very well, except when the wrong book came up or she wasn't sure which page she was supposed to be on. When ever a problem occurred, she would yell louder than usual because she had the headphones on. She wasn't upset or anything, she was just letting us know. We also put some of her favourite songs on the player and this is where most of the entertainment for us came from. She would sing along loudly and out of tune to the bits she knew and mumble loudly and out of tune to the rest. All up, it could have been a lot worse.
We arrived in around mid afternoon and had a chance to settle in before the rest of the family arrived. DW made the mistake of telling Princess she could stay up until Grandma and Grandad arrived which was after ten that night. The poor kid's eyes were almost falling out of her head and she could barely string the words "I'm not sleepy" together. We did manage to get her into bed eventually and she did sleep until 7am which is pretty good for her. Little Man woke up several times through the night but mostly because his young cousin in the next room was having considerably greater difficulty settling.
The next day I played golf with my Father-in-Law, Shdan and DW's brothers, Shshaun and Shlockie. I'm not much of a golfer. I was being given advice from all sides, except the front, which as it happens, would probably have been the safest. I remembered to keep my head down, which seemed appropriate given the shame. By chance, my first hit off the tee was actually quite good. It was a par 3 hole and I took over ten strokes to get in the hole. I stop counting when I run out of fingers. In my defence, the greens were not grass but rather sandscrapes and hadn't been set up very well, with the lip of the hole slightly higher than the surrounding sand. This caused even the straightest putt to go astray. Not that any of mine were the straightest putt. It was just a little reassuring that others also experienced some difficulty.
My problem early on was my first hit off was nice and straight and while sitting only a few meters from the green, I hit the ball nearly as hard again, sending me WAY past. Every hole after that had something else wrong. Slicing, hooking, dribbling, missing, swearing, searching, swearing, searching, swearing, finding, hooking, swearing, searching. DW's dad was always the first into the bushes to help look for my ball but I think it may have also been to hide the giggling.
After much gnashing of teeth and miraculous findings of the ball, I managed to curtail my overshooting and a "house rule" brought my putting into single digits. In fact, I even managed to use the newly adopted "house rule" (which accounted for the poor sandscrapes) to par two holes in a row. It was time to retire and I skipped backed to the holiday house to tell DW who struggled to stop raising her eyebrow, causing it to quiver so hard it almost popped off.
Anyway, because I had a conference the next day, we had to head home before everyone else, so we packed up and bundled the kids into the car and started the long journey home. The kids were less well settled but we finally made it home at 10pm. That's pretty much the extent of our trip, except for Princess nagging and nagging to have a swim even though the pool was cold and the wind was colder. Grandma Shue braved the icy pond but no one else was brave enough. Little Man just ran about pulling at things and pressing buttons on the video player. Still, it was a nice, if a little brief, get away. Hopefully next time will be for a little longer.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Let the sneeze pass, then play the shot.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Howdy. Not sure if I've started a post with "Howdy" but at least now I can be sure I have.
Little Man ate his first meal sitting at the table with us last night. Now before you jump to any conclusions, we don't make him eat off the floor or anything. He does that by choice. Its just that his high chair, which sits atop a normal chair, has a tray that attaches to the front. This tray prevents him from sitting right at the table. Unfortunately, it also puts him at exactly the right distance for kicking the table while we are all eating, so we have to push him back a little further. Its not like he is in Siberia and we call out to him occasionally to make him feel less abandoned. However, he is now big enough to eat without the tray, allowing us to pull his chair right in to the table, which is also too close to kick now. So for the first time, we all sat around the table and had dinner. Of course, Little Man hasn't had time to acquire any table manners yet and spent much of the time banging the table and throwing cheese.
Princess "helps" by giving a running commentary on the cheese flinging. She gives a running commentary on everything. I know I have mentioned it before, but it still amazes me how much she talks. I started to keep a log of the funny little things she would say like, "Mummy, you should hug Daddy because we don't have a monkey," and "Wow, look at the big bum! Let's follow it!" (She said this very loudly in a shopping centre). She has also recently adapted a couple of sayings to form her own. The favourite at the moment is "Slow your horses". I stopped writing these little bits down because she while she says a lot of funny things, they are mostly funny because they sound like someting an adult would say. For example, DW and I were lamenting the quality of a red wine the other day when Princess piped up and said, "Guys, slow your horses. You have both had this one before and you really loved it. So don't say that you don't like it now because you do. No, don't laugh. I'm being seriously." Her kinder teacher told us when she asked Princess if she would like to try another activity she replied, "No thank you. I'm really quite fine."
Anyway, that's all for today. I know its brief but work is busy and lunch is short. Hopefully I will be able to post another entry tomorrow.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Do I monitor the monitor or does the monitor monitor me?
Little Man ate his first meal sitting at the table with us last night. Now before you jump to any conclusions, we don't make him eat off the floor or anything. He does that by choice. Its just that his high chair, which sits atop a normal chair, has a tray that attaches to the front. This tray prevents him from sitting right at the table. Unfortunately, it also puts him at exactly the right distance for kicking the table while we are all eating, so we have to push him back a little further. Its not like he is in Siberia and we call out to him occasionally to make him feel less abandoned. However, he is now big enough to eat without the tray, allowing us to pull his chair right in to the table, which is also too close to kick now. So for the first time, we all sat around the table and had dinner. Of course, Little Man hasn't had time to acquire any table manners yet and spent much of the time banging the table and throwing cheese.
Princess "helps" by giving a running commentary on the cheese flinging. She gives a running commentary on everything. I know I have mentioned it before, but it still amazes me how much she talks. I started to keep a log of the funny little things she would say like, "Mummy, you should hug Daddy because we don't have a monkey," and "Wow, look at the big bum! Let's follow it!" (She said this very loudly in a shopping centre). She has also recently adapted a couple of sayings to form her own. The favourite at the moment is "Slow your horses". I stopped writing these little bits down because she while she says a lot of funny things, they are mostly funny because they sound like someting an adult would say. For example, DW and I were lamenting the quality of a red wine the other day when Princess piped up and said, "Guys, slow your horses. You have both had this one before and you really loved it. So don't say that you don't like it now because you do. No, don't laugh. I'm being seriously." Her kinder teacher told us when she asked Princess if she would like to try another activity she replied, "No thank you. I'm really quite fine."
Anyway, that's all for today. I know its brief but work is busy and lunch is short. Hopefully I will be able to post another entry tomorrow.
Ciao!
Thought for the Day: Do I monitor the monitor or does the monitor monitor me?
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