The evil geniuses copped it a bit today… I might have been up singing Sing Star until around 1am.  And I might have been a little bit tired today.  So I might have been a little bit hasty in imposing a house-wide technology ban, given that a free-for-all-technology-a-rama would have been like having a virtual aspirin.

Anyway, we reap what we sow, and once a thing is banned in this joint there can be no going back.  I know what you’re thinking: just ‘unban’ it.  No.  Consistent follow-through is what is needed people.  Even at the expense of my brain cells clanging against each other with every small head movement.

So after the banning, they had to play.  Together.  Which, of course can go either way.

During Witching Hour (aka Wine Hour) I was preparing dinner and they decided to play some newly invented game: Mousey Jumpy or something.  Basically it involved them jumping over cushions in the lounge room, which is tiled.  Unit One set up the cushions and Unit Two (the least co-ordinated of the two) had to jump over them.  Onto tiles.  From the vantage point of my advanced age, wisdom and clingclangcrashing head, I just knew what was going to transpire, and I was faced with the parent dilemma: Let ’em do it and sort out the broken teeth later, or stop them for the sake of peace, and stifle their learning just a little bit.

I left them to it.  (Cringe)

Can you guess what happened?  Something extraordinary, that’s what.

As Unit Two was saying she couldn’t make one of the jumps, her big brother, who is mostly snide and often bossy toward her, said, “It’s okay Mousey, it doesn’t matter if you don’t make it the first time, just keep on trying.  Don’t say you can’t do it, you have to believe in yourself Mousey.  Come on, give it a go, and visualise your success.”

What?

Who said that?

Did a commentator from The Superbowl sneak in, and broadcast through my son’s mouth?  Did aliens abduct my children and place themselves here in their place, waiting to suck out my dehydrated corpus callousum as I sleep this evening?  What just happened?

          Dear Aliens,    

          I want my children back.  Now please.  This is freaking me out.  

          Love 

So here it is, the hit list of the week:

1.  This stuff. Mmmmm. I don’t think I need to say any more, other than thanks Sam and Ben and thanks Mum for some supplies.  Also thanks Me (and Uncle Dan) for having the good sense to get a bottle to farewell my beautiful Sue*.  We didn’t have the ‘correct’ glasses for my taste, but, Mmmmm.

2.  Evans Head.  We had the opportunity to spend a few nights there over the long weekend, and that joint was awesome.  We emerged from the time-warp of a coastal town of thirty-seven years ago, three days later, rejuvenated.  Go there if you can.  But not if you want fancy shiz.  (Gulpers of green smoothies in Mason jars or Salted Caramel Macaron Munchers need not apply.  The RSL does NOT have Himalayan Sea Salt, nor is the beef Wagyu.)

3.  A fun little idea that might become something with this here blog… It might not, but it IS fun to dream a little dream sometimes doncha think?  Stay tuned on that one… You KNOW I’ll be sharing the news if it’s peachy.

4.  Michael Franti.  I’ve said it before, but I’ve gotta say it again.  How good is this song?

5.  Great teachers.  Our kids have hit the jackpot this year, with awesome teachers that suit them perfectly.  I know it’s only the first week, but we are pumped…. Or maybe that’s just me and the euphoria of a house that says tidy, and air that stays whinge free for five whole hours a day.

What are your hits of the week?

*OOPS, that sounds weird, like she’s dead- she’s not, just DEAD TO ME for leaving me without a coffee buddy for the next year whilst she gallivants around from girt to girt.

This is a true story that happened to someone I know.  Not me, mind, my children are angels, my life is a Pinterest post.

Once Upon a Time….

To say she was looking forward to the first day of school was an understatement.  The kids, whilst generally lovely, were starting to grate on her nerves to the moon and back, just a little, so it was time for them to be, well, away.  For the safety of all.

So it was with great joy that she awoke on the first day of the first term and bounded from bed and into the kitchen to make French toast for her little chicks.  They gobbled it up along with their smoothie and their cereal, and it seemed like her day would be charmed.  She made the lunches, perhaps singing a line or two of George Michael’s ‘Freedom’ as she filled those Tupperware containers and thought about her day ahead.  She thought about silence.  And a cup of tea, drunk whilst still hot.  She thought of having a wee without anyone coming in to ask her if they could play Minecraft… Ahhh pissing in private: bliss.

*****

She pulled into the school at 7.57am, a mere thirty-fucking-eight minutes before the bell.  Not.one.single.spare.carpark.  So she drove out again, and over to the paddock, trying to remain upbeat, even though she knew her youngest always found the walk from there a bit much, what with her little legs and her lack of haemoglobin.  Today the kid would have to carry her own bag because of the bloody bookpacks that had to be taken to the classrooms.

She looked around at all the other families; beaming mothers, freshly licked children, and with a sinking stomach stone she realised: The Hats.  She’d forgotten the bloody hats.

No hat, no play.

She calmly broke the news to the kids: the oldest started whinging, the youngest screwed her face up like she did when she got a blood test (it meant a hard rain’s a-gonna fall).  So she decided to go directly to the uniform shop, and get some new ones, they’d come in handy, maybe.

They arrived at the uniform shop.  The queue was eighteen people long.  School started in twenty-eight minutes. A minute and a half per person.  It wasn’t gonna happen.   So she decided to dump drop the kids in their classrooms and come back for the hats.  This did not go well.  The youngest was crying, worrying about not getting a hat, and complaining that her bag (containing an oh-so-heavy lunchbox and a water bottle) was made of lead and she couldn’t carry it.  She gritted her teeth with a grimace that tried to be a smile and gripped the youngest’s hand to show she meant business.  The kid would walk. The kid would carry her own bag.  She might have squeezed that chubby little hand, just a teensy bit.

Whilst she was cajoling the kid to walk, the big one walked off ahead, to his classroom.  She finally got to his class, crying kid in tow, and leaving a trail of gluesticks behind her, but where was he?  He was nowhere to be seen.  She grimsmiled at more doting Mothers and sparkling teachers and went to find him.  “Stay here, right here, and stop crying, it was just a tiny squeeze,” she told the youngest.  The youngest did not stay.  The youngest did not stop crying.  She wanted to scream out one of the bad swears.  Where was that idiot kid?

After a time and a school bell, he came ambling up the path- the space cadet had toddled off to his last year’s classroom.  Sweet Jesus.

She dispatched Unit One and his bookpack, scooped up Unit Two, headed to the next classroom.

She only dropped four exercise books and two erasers on the way, so that was counted as a win.  They arrived just as the sugar-coated teacher was welcoming all the children.  She tried to disentangle, but the kid was wrapped around her leg like Christmas lights.  The more she tried to get her off, the harder that kid limpeted on.  Eventually the teacher got her free, and she was free.

She resumed a place in the line at the uniform shop, which inched forward.  Mothers jostled and jockyed for position, perhaps just so they could say “No, you go first,” to each other every few minutes, and imply greater indolence.  In the school ground nowhere to be meant good.  Nowhwere to be meant rich.

It was a long wait, and it was hot in the sun, and suddenly there was a cooling splash all up the back of her legs.  It was not water though, no, it was something much more zesty, a spew from the toddler behind her.  Everyone kind of helped the spew-kid’s-Mum (if by help you mean not moving once inch from their spot in the line, and giving her encouraging but not involved smiles).

No-one asked if she liked that the vomit was soaking into the cork of her Birkenstocks..

Finally, the wait was over, she got the hats, got them to the kids and got the hell outa there.  She came home, looked at her World Clock, found it was close enough to 5pm in San Diego, and so opened a bottle of reward.

It was sweet.

The End

How did your first day go?  Did you get spewed on?

The little bloggy break sort of turned into the whole summer holidays off, didn’t it?  Sorry about that for all of you who have been waiting patiently and asking.

We have been camping and playing at the beach, and going on road trips and just generally galavanting around…  It’s been lush.

And now it’s time for the real world again, so the blog is back.. or at least it will be next week.

I have decided I might not blog every day.  I might, but I might not.  Some days I have big days in my real job, and I think you end up having to read crappy stuff, so I might just have a day off instead.  Some other days I might have a play writing down some ideas for this book thingy I’ve had pinging around in my cranium for a bit…so I might have a day off.

I will continue to spam your FB and Twitter time-lines, telling you when I’ve posted, but you might consider clicking on the pink link at the top of the page to have updates emailed to you directly.  Or you could click on one of the green icons up there ^ to get the blog via email or RSS.  (RSS is my personal fave- it’s how I get all my blogs sent to me).

This year I hope to get a couple of advertisers on the blog- you’ll see ’em on the side-bar over there >>>> once I can figure out how to get that sorted.  So if you do choose to subscribe, I reckon that would help.  And if, by chance you do like the blog, sharing the link on your FB or Twitter feeds would be ace.

So there you have it… The bloggy manifesto.

Thanks for reading, thanks for sharing.

Hello, my name is Alison and it has been six days since I have blogged.

Sorry about that RRs… We had an internet shut down for a day, which was later fixed by the nicest offshore Optus representative you ever did call.  Then all things Christmas and alcohol related took over.

My Mum is here, and she holds my blog in disdain, so being the good girl that I am, I haven’t made time to sit in the apple orchard and ruminate on the state of the nation.

I had intended to regale you all with my excellent Christmas planning and exploits (which are extensive and organised and pinteresty) but then: alcohols happened.   And the the best laid schemes o’ bloggers and men… gang aft a-gley.

As we, er, speak the Gris-ashers are packing the cars to go camping, approximately 29.1kms south of all things safe, secure and sparkling.  There will be no internet, and so, I’m sorry to say, no blog.  For a whole week.

It feels a bit weird, to be honest.  I’ve kind of gotten used to you lot, but I promise I’ll be back next week.

Enjoy your hols… May your bubbles be tiny and lively on your tongue, and your mozzie bites few.

Merry Belated Christmas, Happy New Year, and of course, Happy Birthday to me.  Seeya on the other side. xx

Today I have cleaned the house from bottom to top. (This includes sorting all the Sylvanians from the Polly Pockets)

Today I have wrapped up all the Christmas presents in order to help a Santa out.

Today I have designed the Christmas menu and printed it out.

Today I have been to the shops to take back some presents because we had too many things.

Today I taxied the kid around in a Taco Boy car with Mexmusic blaring to try and drum up business for that joint.

Today I did five loads of washing, including all the towels and all the sheets.

Today I did two comb-throughs to check for nits (all clear, whew)

Today I ate eight Roses chocolates.

Today I drank two glasses of moderately fancy Savvy.

Today I let the kids play on the computers for over an hour without a break.

Today I did absolutely no exercise.

Today I reckon I spent about ninety-four minutes on the interwebs, namely the socs.

Today I spent too much time thinking about that stuff that I read on the interwebs, where people weren’t playing nice.

Today I sat on my top deck and ignored my family for half an hour whilst I read a magazine.

Today I missed some people who have passed away, and then dwelled on that a bit.

Today I let my Mum do lots of jobs.

Today I was too tired lazy to write you a proper blog.

So I guess there’s good and bad in every single day.

Hope you have more of the good in yours today… Or maybe exactly the same of each, for the sake of balance… Happy last day before Christmas eve day, day.  It’s very exciting, isn’t it?

Did I mention I wore antlers all day?