Back and there again

I have been lying low whilst my back has been getting better, but now that I am no longer high on prescription medication and can walk upright, I thought it was time to celebrate with a blog post. I even went for a 5km walk the other day and was very proud that I was able to pass someone on the uphill bit just before home. The fact that it was a 76 year old nanna pushing a stroller that contained what looked like a kid that could use some exercise I choose to gloss over, as I will take any small victory right now.

Have just spent a pleasant weekend with a cold, which meant lots of tissues, honey and lemon drinks (thanks, Tim) and feeling like I had been hit repeatedly with a cricket bat. My children were their usual considerate selves (to be honest, Grace was great, the boys were poops) and respected my headache that actually needed its own seat on the lounge by asking me the same question every 2 minutes in high, loud, "mummy is about to kill you" voices. I also had time to marvel at a three year olds ability to actually translate english into another language. An example of this is "Will, could you please keep the noise down" apparently translates as "Will, could you please scream as if your hair is on fire, run in a circle three times and then hit your brother with a Transformer toy" in three year old speak. I feel that this is a phenomenon sadly ignored by linguists. I am equally astounded at the amount of mucous a nose can produce, but a girlfriend of mine told me that mucous production has more to do with your gut than your sinuses, which led me to visualise my intestines coming out of my nose. Perhaps I have come off the prescription drugs too early.

I also had time this weekend to do a little shopping with the clan. I stick by my claim that shopping with any child under the age of 8 is an endurance event that a decathlete would think twice about. The contestants on "Gladiator" reckon they've done it tough but let me tell you, they only had to run 1 gauntlet. When you add up the number of aisles dedicated to toys in your local department store, you have "The gauntlet" on steroids. Plus, they do not hand out protective headgear or mouthguards at the start. All I have to say is that to all the parents out there that know what I'm talking about, I salute you and to those who don't, consider yourself lucky. Why I am drivelling on about shopping is this - what I found on the back of our receipt once we left the shop. Now, I'm sure that many of use have become familiar with those fantastic offers that are printed on the back - two for one coffee at some slop house that thinks nescafe is the yummiest thing around, 20% off a holiday that is a thinly disguised "grab a a granny" tour etc. But today, something new and I just had to share it with you.



Now, I am not mocking any performance problems that a chap may be having. Just the opposite. However, I am not too sure about this whole "nasal delivery technology" business. When you think about doing the wild thing, I am pretty sure that the first thing that leaps to mind is not "nasal delivery". And if it does, please keep it to yourself, I really don't want to know. Still, as my husband pointed out, this advertisement adds a whole knew meaning to "fucked in the head". To be honest, I have never thought of my nose as an erogenous zone, but perhaps this is just illustrating a lack of adventure on my part, rather than a deviant behaviour in others. I feel that this warrants more research, so perhaps tomorrow I will pay a visit to one of those stores out in the industrial area and see if they have a copy of a magazine dedicated to "nasal delivery". Maybe I have always misunderstood what the title "Hooters" has always stood for and all this does is illustrates my naivety. I mean, if it is on the back of a shopping docket, it has to be mainstream, right? Stay tuned, fellow nasal delivery innocents, I'm sure it doesn't end here.

TV viewing

Having been laid low with some kind of revolting virus (again!!!) which has the wonderful side effect of making a movie last 3 times longer because I keep dozing off in parts, I am getting to experience the wonders of daytime TV for the second time within a month. I now know how to fix my marriage, make a 4 course meal out of 2 ingredients and how to turn 3 toilet tolls and glitter into a toy my kids will play with for hours. How I thought my life was complete before, I have no idea. I also now realise why people actually resort to buying the crap advertised on the shopping network - if you buy and ab blaster at least you have something to do besides watch the shite that is being rolled across the networks between 9am and 5pm. Perhaps this is all part of the plan to get people back to work though - put complete crud on TV during the day and most people will want to go back to work rather than have their brain rot whilst they watch Kerri Anne show you how you can brighten up your lounge room curtains with a bedazzler, can of spray paint and a tea pot stencil (you think I'm joking, don't you?).




On the bright side, I have caught up on a few DVDs that have been sitting around with their plastic on for a while and also been able to watch the daytime antics of our two bearded dragons, Monty and Oscar. These two guys came into our lives in January this year after repeated requests (aka nagging) from Grace and Cameron for these pets. Above is a photo of what they looked like when they first arrived in January. They are now much bigger and below is a video of what they look like now and the stuff they like to do during the day. I know some people who act a lot the same way when they are at work and I bet you do too. Some of our friends have found this approach to pet keeping (we have 2 bearded dragons and about 30 giant stick insects at our place) a little unconventional but I have to say they are pretty quiet, eat the skin they shed and the pooh is much easier to deal with. Also, if you are going to have a pet draped around your neck, a bearded dragon is much more comfortable than a beagle. Don't ask how I know - it's one of those questions that you REALLY don't want the answer to.

The last two weeks Part 2

I bet you are wondering how I can possibly top my last post. What an action packed week! Things calmed down a bit and then revved up again on the Friday, where we attended the birthday party of my daughter's best friend. The amount of noise that 4 girls can generate is quite phenomenal, then throw two excited boys into the mix and you could safely call it a lunatic asylum. Add several pizzas, soft drink and lollies and the result is something that even Dante could not have imagined. My daughter stayed for a "sleepover" (whoever coined that term NEVER attended one, as bugger all sleep actually happens) and we dragged the boys home. William decided that the best way to end the week would be to copiously vomit everywhere for the next 6 hours. Pink, heart shaped marshmallows mixed with pizza and red fizzy drink go a spectacularly long way when forced out at high velocity from a small person and I can now confidently say that all of my sheets and towels are freshly washed and disinfected. The mattress in our room and his room are also very clean. Lovely. We spent the next day lying on the lounge watching kids DVDs as we were all running on very little rest and hey, when you are that tired, "Finding nemo" can make sense to you in a way it never has before. Our daughter was delivered home with an attitude roughly the size of Texas and gave us a lovely preview of how much fun we are going to have when she is 13, when I am planning to lock her in her room and just post food under the door so I don't have to deal with her.

Sunday rolled around and we all seemed to be getting back to normal when Tim came down with the same vomiting bug, which meant not too much sleep on Sunday night, as our ensuite does have a lovely echo going when you're in there. I reckon the poor bloke nearly bought the socks he was wearing back up. Anyway, Monday meant chaos, as Tim is the organised one in our house and suddenly I had to do it. So I cheated - the kids got lunch orders from the school canteen and I have to say I was considering the virtues of packaged, dried noodles for brekky pretty seriously when William decided to plaster his nutella toast all over the chair he was sitting on. Very art deco/modernist but hell on the fabric. Anyway, we somehow made it out the door without anyone wearing their undies on the outside of their clothes or school bags on fire. Various drops offs took place at schools and childcare centres, then I went to work, put my head on my keyboard and had a fabulous day of what I like to call "presenteeism" - I'm physically at work (present) but my brain was in the Bahamas. I think. It didn't send me a postcard. Tim is now much better and is facing the endurance event that is parent/teacher interview night at his school. I never appreciated how hard these can be on a teacher until I ended up married to one - how do you tell a parent that their child is going swimmingly in classes, but something really needs to be done about the way they keep taking their clothes off and running around the oval? Tricky, very tricky.