Pity my poor parents, who read this blog. They have to read this blog because it is just about all the news they get of their errant daughter and her spawn. So, just for today, I will indulge them (Hi Mum and Dad!), with some mundane updates on our daily life. Feel free to tag along! 

The T-Bot had his kindergarten graduation on Thursday. Their teachers read out a few facts the children had provided about themselves as they went up onto the stage for their certificates. Most of the the class, model students, liked learning, could read or ride a bike, and their favorite thing was their teacher. (Awwwww! breathed the audience). The T-Bot, however, apparently likes eels, he can smell, and his favorite thing is lunch. 

I am up to my elbows in it. Literally. You see, our garbage disposer broke last weekend, and since then I have been mainly occupied with fishing out everything The Daddy tips down the sink. It seems that in three short years we have forgotten how to live without a garbage disposer. Really, I don’t know how we ever survived without one. 

I have tried to fix it. To be honest, I have been fixing it about once a week for the past month. But this time, it just gave up on me. Threw its little flanges in the air and said Enough! No amount of pushing, pulling, bashing or swearing will budge it. 

Surprisingly, a new one is not all that expensive. I have been checking out the models at Lowes and Home Depot and for only a couple of hundred dollars I can purchase the top-notch double-the-price disposal which will even handle potato peels (hmm, perhaps a clue here as to why our current one is broken?). So, while I am at it, I decided to also buy a new faucet (that’s a tap to you, M&D), because the current one has been leaking since we moved in. And in for a penny, in for a pound, why not a kitchen sink?

I promise I will get someone in to install it all. Otherwise, if my record with painting the dining room is anything to go by, we will be here until Christmas. But hey! Good news! That last dining room wall now has primer!  

It was 35 degrees C today. (That’s 95 for all you Fahrenheit people). We are having beautiful weather right now, very hot but not too muggy. The best thing about not too muggy? My hair semi-behaves. Unlike the children, who are already stir crazy. We worked out this morning that they had totally misunderstood the words “summer vacation” and thought we would be jetting off immediately to some exotic locale, instead of which we threw them in front of PBS Kids and sat typing frantically away. The T-Bot, he of the overactive imagination, had convinced himself we were going to “Japanese”, and when quizzed, thought it would cost about $10. Baby Sister, meanwhile, had her heart set on meeting Cinderella. 

Our one calm period of today was spent sorting out toys for our garage sale, tentatively scheduled for the end of next week. The T-Bot is very excited by the idea and had to be dissuaded from throwing almost everything he owns into the garage sale box. He also wants to take it all down to the garage and hold the sale NOW. Whenever now may be. He is a true shopkeeper at heart… 

Tomorrow we will have to keep our promise and finally take them to the pool. But first, some beauty sleep. Sorely needed.  I will leave you with this: 

The Wictor shows off his first real Play-Doh sculpture. Full marks if you guessed that it’s a “Tut-Tut Train” !

A few minutes ago, I picked up the T-Bot from school. Finally the day has come - the magical Last Day of which we have been talking excitedly for weeks. As I pulled up at the end of the car line, the school audio system was broadcasting “Celebration”. And then The T-Bot was in the car, frantically pulling folder after folder out of his backpack to show me. And prizes he had bought with his Happy Tickets. And cards. And books. And I breathed an enormous sigh of relief because I hate the school run. And I won’t have to do it for three whole months. Oh, and also I will have the time to take a shower and not just on weekends.

Soon we will all go and pick up Baby Sister from pre-school and then - at least until next fall - I will gain two delicious hours per weekday. Two hours in which I will not be driving between schools or sitting stationary in car lines, listening for the 6 trillionth time to “Incy Wincy Spider”. Or worse, Baby Sister’s current favorite, “Heaven is A Place on Earth”.

Of course, during those two hours there will still be children to think about.

When I tell people my three children will all be home over summer, they look at me like I have lost my marbles. Incredible how it only takes a generation to forget what is achievable. When I was growing up, summer camp was something you read about in books. Occasionally there might be a kids theatre workshop or something going on, but that was something you had to beg to participate in, rather than a way to make your parents life easier. So tell me, why has it become so darn strange to look after your own kids? I mean, if you can, because you are home all day and all.

As the time draws closer, I am actually looking forward to it. Our nighttime routine has already started to slip, in anticipation of no more early morning schedules. Last night The Daddy came upstairs with gingerbread blobs (gingerbread men unintentionally created with too little flour) while we were reading stories, and so bedtime was delayed while we crunched away thoughtfully. We’ll catch up on sleep some other day.

Then there are the playdates. Playdates for kids and Mommies too! Nobody I know comes around after school anymore, unless pushed, because a visit that starts at 4pm… when you need to get dinner on at 5? Not really a goer. I am strangely, childishly exhilarated at the thought of revisiting the era when we would hang out all day, drinking tea and gossiping in the kitchen while the children ran wild upstairs.

I have plans of course. Huge plans. For activities and visits and educational opportunities. Crafts and baking and experiments and exercise and oh! It will be Fun with a capital F! Notwithstanding the fact that when The Daddy arrived home yesterday I collapsed on his shoulder whimpering “how oh how will I survive three months when I can’t survive three hours?”, I am sure we are going to have a great time.

But ask me again on Monday.

…before I spent an hour cursing and searching for my paint roller which refused to be found!

I had purchased new roller covers, brushes and paint in careful preparation for an afternoon spent finishing the painting of the dining room. 

Then, suddenly, as I walked in the door of Lowes on my way to buy a new roller, I remembered the old one is in a landfill. 

On Saturday afternoon, while The Wictor was taking a nap and Baby Sister and The Daddy were at Blockbuster choosing yet another installment from the Fairytopia Franchise, T-Bot and I were pleased to be able to sit down for the first time in weeks and complete one of his building projects. For this one, I supplied the tape in appropriate lengths. 

I should not have to explain it, but just in case you, Dear Reader, are not very bright, here is what you are looking at: 

This is an undersea city. There are three buildings, one on top of each other, and when you take one off - surprise! there is another, different, one in its place. 

Two finger person friends, walking side by side, have found a special lamp which lights up the buildings. Another finger person is in the swimming pool watching an advertisement on the big screen (and no, that is not pubic hair, it is a bikini). The last finger person is just very very happy to have scaled all those stairs (hidden) and made it to the very top of the building. 

So there you have it. 

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In other news, it is Monday morning and I have accomplished exactly one task from my list of Things to Do Over Memorial Day Weekend: 

Paint over the last remaining brown wall in the dining room

Attach the Grandfather Clock to the wall so that it is less likely to come crashing down on the next child to play at slamming its front door (not that that wouldn’t be karma, but… you know)

Prime the peeling exterior boards above the bay window. 

Paint the peeling exterior boards above the bay window. 

Repair the Accugreen 1000 so that it will, once again, dispense fertilizer. 

Use the Accugreen 1000 to dispense fertilizer over the lawn.

Tidy Baby Sister’s bedroom

Obtain gift cards as end of year presents for the teachers.

Track down and purchase a new table pad and tablecloths for the dining table (which The Daddy insisted on lengthening last weekend so that hundreds of dollars worth of table coverings don’t fit).

Cut The Wictor’s hair

Tidy away that pile of stuff teetering on top of the washing machine, which always falls to the floor with a crash! during the spin cycle.

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Although it was not on the list, we did make it to the Museum of Natural Science yesterday, for our yearly visit to the butterfly exhibit. Last year we traumatized Baby Sister, as we had not grasped the full extent of her Butterfly Phobia, but this year she took it all in stride: 

The T-Bot had fun too: 

And The Wictor was ecstatic. Here he is with butterfly wings: 

We also managed to fit in some of the permanent exhibits, including the dinosaurs, gemstones and stuffed animals killing each other inside giant glass cabinets (thankfully last years mauled zebra seemed to have disappeared so we avoided the tearful questions about how it had obtained its big boo boo). By this stage the children were starting to get overexcited and bounced from one corner to another without really seeming to see much. 

On the way home, as they crashed in the back, The Daddy and I debated as to whether it had, in fact, been a worthwhile investment of circa a hundred dollars. But once fed and suitably reposed, Baby Sister answered that one for us: 

“Mommy, I liked the Museum, I liked the butterflies and dinosaur bones and all the dead animals”. 

 She likes dead animals. I’m taking that as a positive.

Mommy, I love you!

I love you too. I’m so glad you are my daughter.

Because you chose me?

Um… yes?

And I chose you.

Um…

I was at another neighbors place and you came and got me from there!

(this is starting to sound like an adoption story)

You remember how The Wictor was in my tummy, you were in my tummy just like that.

I was in your tummy?

Yeah.

Yeah… I was in your tummy… (Thinks. Wails) …and you spit me out!

No, I …

Because you didn’t like me! You spit me out!

There is something about third children. They benefit a lot from the experiences and interactions of the other two. Take The Wictor for example. 

This morning as we were driving home down the main drag, he kept up a running commentary from the back seat. Translated: 

Look Mama! Wal-Mart!

Look Mama! Blockbuster!

Look Mama! Supermarket!

Look Mama! Macdonalds!

Look Mama! Target! 

(Oh, and he recognizes Toys R Us and Party City too). 

As The Daddy put it: “It seems that we are solidly entrenched in the middle class”.

I choose to tell you this, and not all about how he recognizes 22 out of 26 letters of the alphabet, can sing the Thomas the Tank Engine song from start to finish, and is speaking in up to 10 word, grammatically correct sentences.  Because I have a First and a Second child too, and I know that they all become brilliant at their own pace.

For more on Brag Hags (FYI, IRL I try not to be one, to the point where all my friends probably think my children are thick) see this.

I remember when I told my aunt she was going to be a Great Aunt. She had actually known for quite a while, but the penny hadn’t quite dropped that she was going to *be* a Great Aunt. By this I don’t mean an aunt who is really great, that goes totally without saying… I mean a Great-Aunt, as in “like a grandmother but slightly sideways on the family tree”. 

We were on the phone when I informed her of this fact. There was a silence, a quick denial, and then another silence as it sunk in. She was only 52 at the time. But she soon got over it, and quickly slipped into the Great Aunt role like you would slip on a slinky new dress. 

Well, tonight The Daddy informed me that I am going to be a Great Aunt.  And it played out in exactly the same way. I have known all day that Eldest Nephew and his wife were expecting, and it was hardly a big surprise, but it hadn’t crossed my mind to think about exactly what my relationship would be to their child. 

And I have to say that I am still in shock. When I married the late-in-life “bonus child” of a large extended family I knew I was being incorporated into a family tree packed with nieces and nephews almost as old as I am. But no one, ever, had the decency to take me aside and explain what that could mean. That I would be a Great Aunt at 36. 

Can I reject the label?  What do you think?

I would settle for just being a great auntie. 

I am coming out of the closet as a Dolly Parton fan. Well sort of.

I only know a few of her greatest hits and the Nine to Five movie, but I manage to sing along each time anyway. Though not line dance. I have never line danced, even back in college in the early 90s when it was in fashion.

Yes it was.

At least where I was living it was. 

So there I am bopping along with The Wictor to Jolene, and crooning “I’m begging of you please don’t take my man” when The Daddy butts in: 

“You know, that’s not really your style. You would be more like how much are you offering?”

And you know, he is right, I would. But only because I am curious.

I promise Jolene, no matter how much you offer, it would never be nearly enough.

Over the weekend I was searching for something in my closet when I happened upon a suitcase. And when I opened it I felt like I had just opened King Tut’s tomb! 

Inside were my emergency supplies for the 2007 hurricane season. You can tell I have never actually lived through a hurricane, because this is what I had bought to potentially tide us over for the hours or days without cooking facilities and possibly a roof: 

48 Pop Tarts

3lbs Chips Ahoy

3lbs 4.5 oz Oreos

One enormous bag of trail mix. 

4 large tins of tuna fish

I believe that my reasoning at the time was that if I bought things the kids would consider treats then they might actually eat them and not starve during the days after the storm. Also, they had to be high calorie items so that they would last longer while taking up less space in the closet. Seems straightforward and even very clever. That is, until all the hurricanes bypass us yet again and we are forced to eat everything under non-emergency conditions. 

Please return to the list above. Note that the quantities of Oreos, Pop Tarts and Chips Ahoy discovered this weekend are more than our entire consumption of said delicacies in the past 3 years… And, because the items in question were purchased at Sam’s Club, of course their expiry dates are all in the past.

They need to be eaten now! 

(Costco? Just this once, I couldn’t make the trip to Costco??).

Oh, don’t worry about those expiry dates, everything is still good. How do I know? Because I have already started on the job of eating everything now. The sooner we start, the sooner the task will be over. We meaning me and occasionally the T-Bot when I forget to hide the Pop-Tarts box. 

Now, if you know anything about King Tut’s tomb you will know about the Curse. The one where anybody who profited from the treasure discovered therein went on to an early grave. This is how I am feeling, right now, about my unexpected find. My digestive system has gone into shock and my head hurts - that is, it hurts when I can find it through the sugar haze. 

You know what I crave the most right now? An apple, a granola bar and a yoghurt. So I will allow myself a yoghurt once I get through the first lb of Chips Ahoy.  By way of a little treat. 

Last night I got four hours sleep. 

The Daddy and I had the brilliant idea of letting T-Bot and Baby Sister camp out in the tent in the yard. It was all going to be so cool. The Daddy would get an early night in the tent with the kids and wake up refreshed, while I would have peace and quiet holding fort in the house while The Wictor slept. 

So at around 8.30pm The Wictor and I tucked the three of them in, each with a green glow stick, a sippy cup and a look of pure glee on their face. Then I took the Wictor to bed. So far so good. As expected, there was some commotion as the dark set in. They activated their glow sticks and ran crazily around the yard. Yes, even The Daddy. There was some confusion as to whether the tent was broken, but we ascertained that the zip was just stuck. And then they all fell asleep at around 9.30. 

I worked solidly until 12.10, and as I was turning in, The Daddy came in to use the bathroom. Apparently Baby Sister was awake and had woken everybody up. I was dispatched to offer harsh words and threats of discipline, and all was calm. Or so I thought. An hour later The Daddy came to get me. Baby Sister had been spending the intervening time bouncing uncontrollably around the tent. The Boys could not fit a wink of sleep into the schedule and they were getting understandably frustrated. So I dished out a Last Ultimatum, listened to The Daddy whine about how he had already given the last ultimatum and I was supposed to just take her inside couldn’t I because he had had enough, and went back to bed.

Of course, once back in bed I decided that it was only a matter of time before I was summoned again, and it was therefore probably not worth sleeping. For the next hour I didn’t. At some point afterwards I did, only to be woken up just after 4 by The Wictor.

And then at 6 o’clock, as day broke, the Happy Campers came stomping indoors, the two younger ones enthusing about the Great Camping Experience while the elder one just collapsed silently onto the couch. 

And that, I think, is the end of our camping experiments for at least the next decade.