An A-type Weekend

Well this weekend, like many others, was filled with 'projects'. Among these, another attempt at a cheesecake. In an attempt to mimic the last masterpiece, we again melted chocolate to 'drizzle' across the top - however, it did not drizzle, but rather 'blobbed' onto the cheesecake with such reckless abandon that we decided to smear it across instead......... then, to cover the rather un-aesthetically pleasing look of the top, Dave 'dusted' it with Quik (read, threw large amounts on top of it with the intention of shaking it off only to realise that it was a cheesecake in a springform pan and dusting it off was not really an option) - he then 'blew' it off - at which point large amounts of Quik blew straight back up into his face. I fell on the floor laughing - you had to be there I know, but it was pretty funny (and I'd had a Bailey's or 3 as all small children were out for the count!!). Anyway, here is the end result. Of course, we had forgotten how hard chocolate sets and it's now near impossible to cut a slice of this cheesecake, but we're managing somehow :)


In addition to baking, I also did a spot of gardening. After meeting Meegan at the Blackwood St markets this morning, I purchased 7 pots of herbs for $10 - what a bargain - and the garden that used to house a lemon tree before the Level 5 water restrictions claimed it's last breathe, is now housing the herbs - hopefully their root system will survive our water-deprived clay soil a little better than the citrus tree did!!



After the planting was done, I took some time out to just lie around and snap some pics of Mackenzie (see sweetheart, I DO take photos of you sometimes - pity I didn't take the time to clean the sleep out of your eyes too!!)



Hmmm, what else.... I know I did more than that. Oh well, maybe not so A-type of a weekend after all - it sure felt busy... oh yeah, that's right, I also spread nearly 2 cubic metres of mulch on the gardens... and I have the sore muscles to prove it. Night!!

Charli (aka Dora) to the rescue

Picture it: Charli is playing in the backyard with a skipping rope. About 20 noisy miner birds start harassing a baby butcher bird (not that I feel much pity as these birds are usually the aggressors).... they are making a hell of a racket and when Charli asks what the noise is I say that the birds are just playing. Surprisingly she doesn't believe me and pretends to tie one end of her skipping rope around her waist harness style while holding the other end up in the air and screaming "I'm tumming, bird, I'm tumming....wait". I could barely dial the phone to call her dad I was laughing so hard. Where are those video cameras when you need them :)

We did it!!

The Pre-Party Preparations.

Well I'd been thinking about Charli's Dora the Explorer second birthday party for many many weeks. In reality however I left most preparations until the second to last moment and spent a couple of nights waking at 3am wondering how I was going to design the maps or more importantly, what the hell I was going to put on the maps, and how all of this was going to happen in the next three days with Charli not finding out what I was doing ....... I'm not going to explain here the whole concept of Dora and Boots and their adventures. If you are clueless and would like to be clued.... feel free to visit the Dora site at the Nick Jr website.

Needless to say, my most amazingly creative sister-in-law Bekk - who is stuck in Mt Isa working at the moment and therefore has many an hour to spend on such tasks given the questionable venues she has to choose from at which to socialise - offered (silly girl) to make some backpacks up for the kids from purple felt. I was quick to take up her offer and here's how they turned out.



Unfortunately this little guy seems to have lost an eye - rest assured they were not made like this - Bekk was not willingly scarring small children for life by presenting them with one-eyed backpacks!!! All of this creativity achieved with a sewing machine that was not available until the night before the party and then went on the fritz with three backpacks to go!! Thank you so much Bekk!!

The Dora Hunt

Well the kids arrived and after trying to keep about 7 kids under the age of 3 penned up in the lounge room until everyone arrived we decided to get started without a couple of them. Backpacks were distributed - much to Henry's delight who was a bit put out that all the presents were for Charli Girl (and rightly so Henry!!) Kids were asked to pull out their maps



Of course the concept was lost a little on children who were not yet literate, however, the first stop was the big blue river (a tarp in the front yard) and all the kids had to look in their backpacks for their skipping ropes so that we could make a rope bridge and cross the river (lame I know but I couldn't think of anything else at the last moment because of course I had not scripted this day - as if it would go to plan with 9 two-year olds in tow!!.... yes 9!!! so much for the rule of inviting one more than the child's age to their parties.... I read that little parenting tip after the invites had all gone out ha ha).

Next stop was Quicksand Cave - something we'd put a little more effort into - our carport decorated with purple plastic walls and sand on the floor.



The kids were told that they were not allowed to touch the sand or they would sink. I potentially have instilled a beach phobia into every attending child. Years from now on the psychologist's couch they will tell of a Dora party at which for some inexplicable reason one of the parents made them afraid of sand!! They lept across the numbered 'rocks' to make it safely to the other side.

Once through the other 'wall' and it was onto the stop 3 - the Pinata Party. Of course the first thing they spied as they ran towards the backyard was a 2-ft high stuffed Dora sitting on a set of swings and the squeals of delight and shouts of 'party' (say it like the karate kid says 'bonsai') as they raced down the hill were priceless. I do hope that part was captured on video.

The Pinata

Once in the backyard I found myself standing alone at the Dora pinata asking everyone where the pinata was before someone pointed out that they probably didn't even know what a pinata was. Stupid kids!! So I dragged them all off the swings and made them come over to the pinata - because you know, this party was not about them having fun - it was about them following the bloody map that my husband had lovingly printed and laminated!! So get your bums over here kids!! :)




Each child took hold of a ribbon and 'pulled pulled pulled' until finally I stuck my hand up Dora's backside and pulled out the bottom of it myself - to the squeals of delight as children were rained with packets of dinosaur jubes and little toy whistles (disclaimer: parents were advised that after Dave had shoved a whistle in his mouth we had ascertained that they were not a choking hazard however all parents were responsible for their own children and whatever objects that may be put inside said child's mouth).

The Cake

Despite my godmother insisting that the Dora Cake looked like the Lion King (!! what the?? LOL) I would like to think that given

1. this was my first attempt ever at piping a cake,
   
2. it took over 10 colours (!!) and
   
3. I had to wait until all children had gone to bed which meant that I was icing this bloody thing at 9.30 on the Friday night

well I think it worked out rather well. I can't take full credit though. When Dave entered the kitchen with me close to tears, pouring a baileys and declaring that Dora was just going to have to be iced all in one colour and that I didn't give a crap anymore.... well he leaped to my rescue and got me started by doing all the fiddly black and brown outline piping...... I felt more enthused after that. So hats off to Dave or else this.....



may have looked like one large blue blob with a few sprinkles scattered over it. It was made all worth it when Charli recognised who it was. Of course I will admit to holding her down and asking about 10 times "who is it Charli?" before the survivalist in her must have realised that she was not getting any of that yummy looking cake until she'd given me the answer I was after..... she whispered "Dora", I beamed and then whisked the cake up stairs to cut it (much to the chagrin of all the drooling children). Charli seemed to like it.....


This unfortunately is probably also the only shot I got of the lovely birthday outfit that Aunty Libby bought for her months ago - well she didn't specifically buy it for her to wear at her birthday but it looked like something Dora might wear to a mexican fiesta!!

Post-party Blues

So everyone left and Dave, Charlotte, Mackenzie and I just hung in the backyard for awhile waiting for Charli to get tired...... we waited... and we waited..... and we waited....... Dave was approaching drunk on the beer he was consuming and had I not been breastfeeding I would have been close behind him...... finally at about 2.30pm we got both girls to sleep and instead of also sleeping we sat in the backyard and reminisced about the last two years. Charli finally woke up about 4pm and spent the next 2.5 hours alternating between sobbing and just plain crying. Those post-party blues can be a real bitch sometimes. We hoped for an early night......

..... but it was not to be. Well not for me and the girls at least :)

A girl's night in

Lying around on our bed at 7pm with the girls, Dave looked dead on his feet and so I stupidly suggested he go to bed as it was Charli's bedtime anyway and as soon as I had her and Zie settled I'd be right in there with him......he barely managed to say "i'll just have a nap" before the snoring began. By 8pm I knew that there was no way Charli was going to sleep - despite being tucked in with her Dora figurines from Samuel (thanks Sam!!)



I'd been into her room 4 times and finally made a deal with her. She could come out and watch telly but we were watching what I wanted to watch. I compromised. I wanted to watch a chick flick. Charli, as always, wanted to watch Dora. So we put on The Shaggy Dog with Tim Allen and she lay with me and watched the entire 2 hour feature length film - and it wasn't even animated. Of course I had to get a running commentary about the dog's antics the entire movie - and how you explain genetic modification to a two-year old I'll never know. She wanted to know what the pug dog crossed with the cane toad was - well I lied and said it was a funny looking frog. She seemed happy enough with that and I suspect she knew that if she pushed the point she would be sent to bed before the exciting conclusion to this movie. At 9.30pm she declared she was tired and she wandered off to bed. All in all a good day, though one that went on a little longer than I'd hoped. She sure does know how to milk a birthday party for all it's worth doesn't she??

Happy Birthday our darling sweetheart - your Nanna is watching over you for many more birthdays to come. We all love you. xoxox

Two years ago tonight....

I was sitting at the computer on a pregnancy website asking the girls there whether cramping meant that I could be in labour..... 5 and a half hours from now two years ago I went into labour. 10 hours and 17 minutes from now two years ago our lives were changed forever when our beautiful girl Charlotte was born. You have brought so much to our lives little girl. Each and every day you make me laugh - even on those days when I am so tired I could cry. I saw you today swinging on a 'big girl swing' - back and forth you swung your legs making yourself go higher and higher. Somehow I blinked and you grew up. Happy Birthday for tomorrow little girl. Your Daddy and I love you very much. xoxox

A little something to look forward to

Well dear readers, this coming September my lovely husband and I will have survived 5 years of marriage. Add to this the fact that the last 5 years have included a PhD, full-time study for Dave, family health problems, and two small children entering our lives and thus making alone time all but impossible - and I bit the bullet today and booked us in for two nights here for our anniversary. If you click on the accommodation link you'll see the luxurious lagoon suite which will be our home for two nights. And there will be a couples massage package at the day spa complete with champagne and cheese platter afterwards. Our package includes dinner each night, breakfast each day, and a bottle of champagne daily - clearly I am going to be drunk the whole time. Counting down the days until these two days of bliss will be ours - and I'm sure that we will only discuss the children for 40 of those 48 hours away.

Toesday bloody Toesday

Like Sunday Bloody Sunday, except on a Tuesday - and of my toe - and the blood was more of the internal bruising kind and less of the kind where 26 civil rights protesters were shot dead in Northern Ireland. So really my incident with my toe is really nothing like it, but here's what happened nonetheless. But first - why am I blogging about my toe? Many many posts ago, Beck started Toesday - I can't remember when, sorry you'll have to find the post yourself - it will give you a chance to read all of her posts - go on, it's worth it :)

Anyway, I've never posted a photo of my toes - though I did post a gorgeous one of Charli and her daddy and their toes many moons ago now when she was only 6 weeks old. But I don't like my feet and they are usually not for public viewing. But my unsightly feet have just been made worse by slamming the little toe of my left foot into a bedside table (and no I was not drunk worse luck - I felt every spine chilling crack in my little toe as it happened). It swelled immediately. Today it looks like this....

It feels worse than it looks. And don't think I haven't complained endlessly about this since it happened....and made Dave look at it 1000 times since yesterday........ he did exactly the same thing last week - I kid you not EXACTLY THE SAME THING except on a different piece of furniture. And he had previously broken his toe so it probably hurt more. AND Charli threw herself on his foot after he'd just hurt it. But he complained not once. What a trooper. I on the other hand will be milking this for all that it's worth. Because that's just the kind of gal I am :)

(p.s. and the photo is out of focus because of the excrutiating pain I am in .... or just because I am a crap photographer)

A bit of DIY

Well I often lament that I don't have very good craft skills. People such as Beck have more craft in her little finger than I have in my whole body. But when it comes to larger projects that are home oriented and a bit more blokey then I'm not too bad. I've been known to make my own flyscreens for rental properties that allowed waay too many bugs in for my liking. And my latest project is to transform these chairs. Here is a before shot:



Four chairs and solid pine table were my mum's and she had re-upholstered the chairs in this fabric to match our new corner lounge as the tables and chairs were in her dining room. However, since the table and chairs are now in our eat-in kitchen being used and abused by a toddler who is none too careful with her food...... well if you look very closely you would see remnants of spaghetti, playdough, weetbix and the stray piece of mushed up corn...... I needed wipable chair coverings!!

So off to spotlight I went in search of upholstery grade vinyl, a staple gun, some upholstery tacks, and calico. Then it was off to Clark Rubber for some new foam padding. Home again and the maddening task of removing tacks and staples from the bases began......4 weeks later - maddeningly trying to get this done with Charli asleep as her DIY skills are still being developed ;) and this is the end result.......



I won't be winning any upholstery awards but it suits our purposes.

Little susie homemaker

With the PhD still awaiting comment and me starting to almost feel on top of motherhood with two under two - I am back to baking. This.....




was presented to Michelle today when she came to visit. A white chocolate cheesecake. I believe her words were "bloomin' bloody wonderful" - and it was if I do say so myself.

Number of photos not equal to amount of love

My dearest Mackenzie,
I have been thinking about writing this for many weeks now. You just turned 3 months last weekend while we were on holidays with Meegan and Sharon and their brood and I realised that although it was your first beach holiday I failed to actually take any photos of you at the beach. This lack of photos is also I'm afraid carried over to your home life and I have been remiss in taking as many photos of you as I took of Charli when she was your age. But I must explain why. Some of it as you will come to understand should you ever have children of your own one day is due to a simple time issue. I no longer have any. I no longer have the luxury of standing above your cot as you sleep and taking 20 photos of every minute little change in facial expression in a three minute period. However, some of the reason for the paucity of photos is merely because with time, I've come to understand that so much more enjoyment can be gleaned from actually experiencing moments with your children rather than madly attempting to capture them on film. You will therefore see that I've taken less photos of Charli as she's gotten older as well. Why? Because I now sit and marvel at her antics each and every day rather than trying to video them. Similarly, I find myself propping you up on my legs and just 'talking' to you for ages. Listening to your gurgles and attempts to 'talk' to me. I love it. And I dont' want to miss a minute of your smiles by racing for the camera. But I promise to take at least some photos each month - you know, so you know that you weren't adopted at age 7 or anything :)

Love Mummy

I brought reality with me....

This won't be a long post about the weekend away with Meegan and Shaz as to be honest I'm still recovering. Three adults, four toddlers and a 10 year old....... relaxing weekend away? Hardly :)
Still I do want to thank the girls for coming away with me and letting me see just how possible (or not as the case may be) it would be to holiday with the girls on a regular basis while they are still this young. Mostly the conversation that sticks in my mind is one I had with a gent in the lifts while loading all my stuff back into the car on Sunday morning. He said to me:

"It'll be hard to get back to reality tomorrow won't it?" Smiles.

I had Charli in my arms (as she wouldn't be put down) and was trying to steer a trolley full of the monumental load of crap that you have to take away with you when you holiday with two small children. I knew that Mackenzie was back in the unit screeching for a feed.

"Um, I brought reality with me."

He smiles sympathetically as he leaves the lift and says "yeah, been there, done that - it'll all be over some day".

Despite the stress that was this weekend I realise that I hope it won't all be over too soon. I'm not ready for them to leave the nest anytime soon. I love you princesses xoxox

One of those days...

Well dear readers it's been one of those days. And it's now nearly 9.30pm and I'm tired so this is going to be the reader's digest version.

Today the wardrobe man was coming so that we could finally have a grown up bedroom and not one that looks like two 19-year olds are sharing a college dorm room.

The weather forecast is 34 and humid.

I ring the wardrobe company and they are not due until 12.30pm - right when Charli will be due for her sleep.

At about 9.30am we're watching TV, I have 2 air-conditioners on and I throw a load of laundry in the dryer because I'm a lazy housewife who couldn't be jacked going downstairs into the hot day to hang the washing out.

I'm feeding Zie and she lets loose with a bottom burp to end all bottom burps and when I stand up I have baby excrement running down my legs onto the brand new turkish rug.

I call to Charli to get me the baby's sheet (i.e. wrap) and bring it to me. Charli looks at me with her new look "I know what you're asking me to do but you know, I just don't feel assed doing that for you right now".... I bribe her with something - it may have been an ice-block, I don't recall. She finally finds it in her heart to bring me the wrap so I can wipe up the mess rather than traipsing it through the house.

As I'm changing Zie's nappy, the stereo/TV goes BANG and I lose power - bloody hell - too many appliances, I've blown a damn fuse again. Now I'm becoming fairly accomplished at fuse changing so I head downstairs with a teatowel to take out the fuse....but then I realise that the computers have gone off - and that can't be right as they are on a separate fuse thingy...... I check the fuse and sure enough it's still intact. Hmmmm. Go upstairs, turn on the lights (again a separate fuse box) - nothing. At this point I call my neighbour (their car is there) but she does not answer and I suspect she is in labour (she is overdue to have her baby at this point).... so I leave a message saying I've lost power and am wondering if they have to. I don't hear back... which is fair enough :)
I call our neighbours over the road - and guess what? They have power.

I call energex. They are not aware of an outage in Mitchelton and they log a call to the service men.

My baby is screaming because it's hot and my toddler wants to play hot games such as pretend mummy is a horse-y and mummy let's jump up and down in this bleedingly hot weather!!

Energex arrive - the power box on the pole has totally shat itself and they log another call for a bucket truck to come out and replace it. this will be another 1.5 hours or so.

We are now melting in the heat.

I call the wardrobe company to check that any power tools they require are battery/rechargeable. They are not. They will have to cancel my wardrobe and come another day. This is not an option as far as I'm concerned as things are stacked against every wall and we can't move for the crap that is waiting to find its new home in the new wardrobe. Plus I've been waiting 5 weeks for this wardrobe. They suggest we could run an extension cord to my neighbour's house. I am reluctant to call the possibly laboring woman to ask if I can use their power (as it turns out she was labouring - or had already labored - they were up at the hospital having left their car at home and are now the proud owners of a new baby boy!!!)..... I hope that their laundry downstairs is unlocked and take it upon myself to okay this suggestion to use the neighbour's power. I run next door once I'm off the phone, extension lead in hand and plug into their laundry.... I am yet to tell them that I've stolen electricity from them but know they won't mind :)

The wardrobe man turns up and starts using power drills. My now hot and bothered baby is still screaming and my toddler, upon hearing the drills, totally loses it and also wants 'up' in mummy's arms... lord. After 10 minutes playing in the back yard energex come back and fix the electricity and finally I can ramp up the aircon, seat Charli in front of the telly, and set about cooling and calming the baby........ Having had no nap, Charli falls asleep in front of the telly jsut as the wardrobe guy is finishing up.....she looks adorable and I reluctantly let her stay on the lounge - knowing this will result in a less than long sleep but she looked so nice and cool.

So, wardrobe is installed. Electricity is back on. Toddler is asleep. Baby is calmer. All I needed at that point was stiff drink - something I indulged in later that day at Sharon's after my incredibly over-tired toddler screamed 'car' more than 50 times before I decided it was just best to take her for a drive rather than hear her incessant whinging.......

I just love these days when you are sorry that you ever tumbled out of bed in the first place - and speaking of bed..... Night.

Politically correct eskimos boost blog readership

Well how's this? I check my statcounter for recent visitor activity, because that's the kind of narcissistic gal I am :) and I find that someone in Boston Mass in the USA has been to my blog. I visit the link to see where they were directed from and lo and behold it's a google search. Apparently my post that mentioned that we should refer to eskimos in the more politically correct way 'inuit' came up sixth in a google search of 'eskimo politically correct' - how funny is that? Bet that person - no doubt researching something for school - was bitterly disappointed that I was unable to provide them with more useful information.

SPAM with manners

It's nice to see that if my inbox is going to be inundated with SPAM that it is at least polite spam. Today in my inbox I received a message telling me that a message that I had tried to send had failed. I hadn't actually sent a message to this recipient - it's one of those spams that say you've sent email even when you haven't. But don't you just love the politeness of the message?

Hi. This is the qmail-send program at rs1.inst.or.jp.
I'm afraid I wasn't able to deliver your message to the following addresses.
This is a permanent error; I've given up. Sorry it didn't work out.

And I think anyone trying to end a relationship could take some good advice from this email. Simple yet to the point. "I'm afraid this relationship is not going to work out. This is a permanent error. I've given up. Sorry it didn't work out". There's no ambiguity there is there? LOL

But Rembrandt was not afraid of baths

Or at least I am going to assume that he was not. And that is why painting would have been so much more enjoyable for him. Or at least his mother. Not that his mother was probably still bathing him when he was an artist..... but who knows, those artsy types can be weird :)

Anyway, the point of all of this is that today I decided to let Charli loose with some poster paints and her art easel. Partly because I wanted to paint her toy oven and thought that it was only fair that she too be allowed to paint, and partly because I feel that I've been a little remiss in not allowing my nearly 2 year old to discover the joys of painting. I was wrong. She should not have been allowed to play with paints until she was also old enough to date - and if her father has anything to do with that then we are talking at least another 20 or 30 years!!

So here is the artiste herself....



Though more paint seemed to end up on her than the easel...


And here is where the problems really began. See all the paint in her hair...??



It is at this point that I realise that wiping a wet washer over her to clean her up is no longer an option. A bath is called for....with hair washing......and much scrubbing. Which leads me to suddenly remember that as of a week ago my child is terrified of baths (or showers in case that was going to be your suggestion). And when you throw 'hair washing' into the equation, well toss me a valium and pour me a vodka because our house is about to become filled with screams of terror that rival those heard in any funhouse carnival across the country. My heart sinks as I realise that the bath is inevitable....... its that or let her stay on the back porch painting forever but somehow that doesn't seem feasible.

So into the bath we go. The screaming begins. Shampoo is added to the equation and the screaming ramps up a notch. Normally I try and gently wash the shampoo from her head but by now she's thrashing so much and has managed to get paint and shampoo into her eyes and the screeching is doing my head in... I realise that if it's going to be this painful it may as well be fast and painful so I do something that will speed up the process but was also guaranteed to send her into a frenzied panic (and I was not disappointed). I turned on the shower. To my shock and surprise, when presented with enough motivation, my two year old can flip herself out of the bath onto the floor...... of course I had the shower hose in my hand so when i turned to try and catch her, water flew everywhere and there was no option at this point except to throw myself into the shower (fully clothed) with her and just hose her down. My ears are still bleeding from the noise!

So there you go - art time at our place ended with a toddler sobbing in her bed and a mummy desperately wishing that it was not too early to start drinking at 10am (that is too early right?). Let's hope Dave appreciates the masterpiece she did him.

People in glass houses....

So on my current theme of de-cluttering and cleaning I've been reading some interesting stuff on hoarders and their personality types (not surprisingly to me, hoarders are known to have perfectionist traits). Now it is fair to say that one thing I most often nag my husband about is his inability to throw things away. His favourite catchphrase is "it might be useful one day" and lo and behold the other day he took great delight in pointing out to me that he was indeed using some of the old wood that he had stored up under the house. I was monumentally proud (rolls eyes) LOL

Anyway, in my recent days of de-cluttering I realise that I too hoard to a great extent it is just that my reasons for hoarding are different. While Dave hoards things in case they may one day become important, according to a website I found about obsessive compulsive disorder, I seem to hoard things that one day in the distant past were important to me. Apparently my inability to throw away a little box of badges (the kind you stick on your shirt - I used to collect these for god knows what reason) means that I am afraid that in some way I am letting go of some part of my life, no matter how seemingly insignficant. And I can totally understand that. When I open this box of trinkets and see the Tangalooma badge that I got at Grade 5 camp or the TAA wings I got when I flew on an aeroplane for the first time when I was 10 years old. ..... well these things make me smile. And they prompt memories that were long since forgotten. Perhaps it is for this reason that I find it so difficult to let these seemingly small and insignificant objects go. But then what does one do about the clutter? Is there some way to retain these memorabilia without your house becoming like this?

Motivation to de-clutter dies after realising it's not that bad

Dave sent me a website address today to make me feel better about just how cluttered our house is not....... I no longer feel the need to de-clutter like a maniac. I'll just keep it neat like a normal person does. I have de-registered from FlyLady after receiving a total of 39 emails from her yesterday regarding keeping my house clean. I spent so much time reading the emails there was no time left to clean.

Who put the cat amongst the pigeons?

So how is my Day 2 of keeping the house clean going I hear you ask? Well, firstly let me say that the sink is again not polished. Nor will it ever be....this is not a suggestion I am willing to take on board in the hopes that it will somehow improve my life. I am willing to take that risk. I did manage to shower and put on some make-up but at the point when my hair was about to be done everything went a little pearshaped so I'm afraid I failed on being totally ready to start my day 'dressed to laces' according to FlyLady.net

In the interests of balancing my new 'de-cluttering' with other forms of entertainment, my godson and his mum visited this morning and when charli suggested we 'eat chits' (translation: feed the chickens) I thought that would be something fun for the kids to do together. Note: we don't own chooks, we are just feeding them for our next door neighbours who are away at the moment. Charli absolutely loves feeding the chooks and in fact it has become her catchphrase every morning "chits? chits?". I have to convince her that mummy is not ready to face chickens before she has had breakfast and at least got out of her pyjamas. Somehow going to feed the chickens while still wearing my pyjamas just does not seem right. I'm not sure why. I am sure they would not be offended.

Anyway, so over we go to feed the chickens (two eggs today!!) and there is a pigeon flying around in the caged henhouse!! How he got in there I have NO idea but the fact is he could not get out and was going psycho! So we let the chooks out into the yard in the hopes that the pigeon would just mosey on out the door and fly away....... but nope (stupid bird) - he just keeps flying around in a mad panic and then hitting the floor. I go to walk into the enclosure further than my customary 1 m when i spy this HUGE spider in a web at about face height and all thoughts of valiantly saving the pigeon are erased from my mind - he can figure it out himself! I decide to leave the chooks in the yard for the day and hope the pigeon leaves the henhouse before nightfall when i'll have to return the henhouse to its rightful owners.....

However not 10 minutes later a huge black cat is chasing the pigeon around the henhouse and then heads out for the chooks. At this point i just want to get the chooks back into their henhouse before they get attacked (no chicken is gonna die on MY watch!) - the pigeon finally got smart and took off out of there and the chickens got chased by two over-enthusiastic toddlers back into their cage. And so ends another rather non-productive day in my household - not one thing was de-cluttered but I'd be keen to hear FlyLady's take on how to manage all of her housework and keep the cats out of the henhouse. Surely even she couldn't manage it???

Day 1 of de-cluttering - a sparkling sink?

well according to FlyLady, in order to start on my 31 day path to de-cluttering my house and restoring order to my otherwise dis-orderly home and life, today I was meant to undertake just one task. This task was to set me on the path to a cleaner and brighter home life. This task? To shine my sink! yes you heard it folks, take a scrubbing brush and silver polish and shine the kitchen sink. I have to ask WHAT THE ?? My urge to shine my freaking kitchen sink was somewhat overshadowed by my desire to even SEE MY LOUNGE ROOM FLOOR. Now there is a task that needed doing. But my kitchen sink?

So I did what FlyLady specifically said not to do and I leaped to Day 2 to see what monumentally important task was on the agenda for that day - and to be fair "get up and get dressed to laced shoes including hair and face" was an improvement on the kitchen sink polishing suggestion. I do find that one of my downfalls is not showering until sometimes midday. Not that I don't think that I have a perfectly decent excuse for poor hygiene practices some days. With a toddler who is nearly two and a newborn who has good intentions of sleeping but is kept awake by the aforementioned toddler, well you can imagine some days that the priority of hair washing takes a major backseat to just staying sane. But I digress......

So today I made it my task to get up and dressed before any of the children could awaken - a task made more urgent by the fact that the dishwasher repairman was arriving at 7am - or midday - or anywhere in between. I don't know why companies like to do this to you - in this day of modern technology when they have service calls logged on high-speed computers and mobile service vans equipped with all of the technology one could want - is it too much to ask that you narrow my service call timeframe to a little under 5 hours? But then I shouldn't complain really.... it's not like I had anything more important today than to polish my sink.

But back to getting dressed before midday..... I did take objection and refuse to go the laced up shoes - one doesn't really need their boots on to polish sinks or change pooey nappies in my opinion. I did however let my hair see a brush for the first time in two days and if 'doing my face' was achieved by the splash of water thrown in my eyes and the quick swipe of lip gloss across my lips then allow me to tick that task off for today.

I had a go at the de-cluttering in 15 minutes thing but to tell an a-type-personality that she has to 'de-clutter for 15 minutes and then stop and do this again tomorrow until all the clutter is gone' - well, why don't you just tell me to take a blunt kitchen knife and draw it repeatedly across my arm until it falls off in a bloody stump on the kitchen floor (I bet FlyLady has a great suggestion for cleaning blood stains off linoleum though don't you think??). I mean really, as if I could just stop cleaning after 15 minutes. If you want to de-clutter then you have to get serious about it - at least spend 2 hours moving the clutter from one room to the next until it all ends up in one room at the back of the house and you can close the door and pretend that room does not exist. So that is what I did. The lounge room is now looking half-way presentable and the kitchen is on the road to being fully de-cluttered by tomorrow. Of course we can no longer open the door to the computer room and David is just going to have to understand that it's time to give up his computers and get a new profession because, well I'm sorry honey, but we just can't get to the PC's anymore. We all have to make sacrifices to live a clutter free life.

I'll let you know how Day 2 goes.

Carla

Because I too need to de-clutter

To dear Michelle and Meegan and all my other friends who feel the need as Autumn is approaching (okay well not really but one day soon!!) to de-clutter their lives..... here is an extra special website by FlyLady - I'm starting on her baby steps beginners daily plan tomorrow..... I'll let you know how I go! Have fun de-cluttering and let me know how you go.

Carla

A Swiper Catastrophe

I am putting clothes away. Charli is watching Dora the Explorer. She comes running in, face full of concern.

"Uh-oh, Siper wa, Siper Wa, uh-oh. Mummy!!"
I look up, knowing full well what this means.

"Swiper {the fox} fell in the water did he?"

"Yes, Mummy! Siper, Wa, uh-oh, uh-oh"

This tirade of painful concern for Swiper the Fox - who is known for always swiping everyone's stuff, so I'm not so sure why she is concerned, I say let the fox drown - could have gone on for hours so I thought it best to intervene and lay her little troubled head to rest.

"It's okay Charli, Dora and Boots will save him."

I say this with a degree of authority that comes with having seen this show once or 65 times in the past 6 months. Plus Dora is essentially the queen of good deeds so let's face it, she isn't going to let that pesky fox drown.

Charli looks at me - the mummy who always knows best. She nods her head wisely. Yes, if mummy says that Dora will save him then it will be so. She smiles and walks away. Oh if only she will always believe me as she does at this moment.