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    Make me some TEA

      Outrage! Am slain by monster truck!

        Oh god. I just rifled through the [miaow] archives and ascertained that I have not been slain by a malady for THIRTEEN months. Until now. I woke up yesterday and was barely able to move what used to be my head to try and see with what used to be my eyes where the bastard was that had just driven over me, and then reversed to finish the job.

        Oh yes. Listen to me whine. Don’t be fooled, this is in no way, shape, or form – a Man Cold:

        This is a proper, rotten, joint painy, nose snuffling destroyer of all things good. And PartyPie has it too. So last night at 10.30pm when neither of us could breathe through our respective noses anymore, we wasted a considerable amount of water by running a hot-only shower and sticking our heads near it until the snot dissolved.

        M, for whatever reason, continues to be relatively unscathed, except for even worse lack of sleep than normal due to the aforementioned breathing difficulties. Thank goodness it hasn’t hit him (yet) because he has been saving me with PartyPie wrangling, salad sandwiches, Panadol, hot lemon drinks… Now if I could just find a bell and get him to rub my brow and say “Poor little bunny…”

        Shopping Trolley.

          This was in the garden on Sunday afternoon. I have been doing a bit of experimenting with iMovie and cursing it for not dealing in mpg or avi files. I am so time poor that I couldn’t even learn how to make a few edits, all I could do was cut the movie shorter, and put in the music. Ah well, better than nothing. Small Z loved her shopping trolley ride so much that she started to cry when I took her OUT of it!

          Dancing Queen


            We went to the Somers Art Fair…

            Travelling back

              Just a few pictures and one video from the day we left Rosebank. Small Z and I were the only ones awake at 6.30am that morning. Here she is, out on the deck…

              Our flight was at 10.50am out of Ballina airport. A highlight while waiting for the plane? I wasn’t present, but M said he was standing near Small Z who was monkeying around on something and fell, taking the impact between her legs. She shrieked,

              “DADDA! I hurt my VAGINA. My V-A-G-I-N-A!”

              She pulled down her pants to inspect the damage and then looked plaintively toward M, who was trying to cower behind a pole.

              “It still hurts, Dadda. My VAGINA. Kiss it BETTER.”

              M was still chanting ‘la la la’ with his fingers in his ears by the time I got back to them. A lovely parenting moment.

              The lowlight was security making M wake Small Z up to take her out of the sling, because, you know, she could be a bomb or something. Everyone knows how important Ballina is to Australian security. I was so mad. Thus, Small DB had a total of one hours sleep for the entire day. Here we are, midflight…

              Onboard the plane...

              We got into Tullamarine at around 1pm, took the Skybus into Southern Cross Station (which, in my own head, I still call ‘Spencer Street’) and then headed to a cafe via Flinders Street Station in order to revive ourselves, and to use the hour we had to wait until our train left. We hit Ponyfish Island for toasted sandwiches and tea…it’s a lovely spot at the base of a bridge pylon surrounded by the Yarra River…

              Ponyfish Island Cafe...
              The last cafe of the holiday. M & Small DB
              The view from Ponyfish Island

              Our 3pm train to Frankston stopped at every-single-stop and it seemed like it took forever. Or maybe because that was because Small DB pooed voraciously in her nappy and I wasn’t game to change her in a carriage full of people. Sigh. We finally got to Frankston Station.

              Frankston Railway Station? You SUCK. You have no baby changing facilities. You do realise that EVERYONE began as a baby and that therefore, there will be some travelling on trains? And yet? I had to change my baby sitting on one of your skanky toilets balancing her on my KNEES while trying to stop her from touching the walls, the floor, the toilet roll, the bin…oh wait, there wasn’t a bin. Which is why I did something that, if I did not have a baby, would disgust me, and left a tightly rolled, stinking disposable nappy near the toilet. Did I mention you SUCK?

              Our diesel train home on the Stony Point Line was delayed by 20 minutes, which was really the last thing we felt like at 4.15pm. Finally we got to Hastings Station, and could hardly believe we had made it! Small Z was really flagging by that point, so I encouraged a reluctant M to load her, and our two bags (yes – we travelled with carry-on luggage only) into a stray shopping trolley. He pushed it with his eyes averted all the way home. Hee!

              And we walked home thusly, like the white trash we are.
              ;)

              Oklahoma Hot Cross Buns

                Sleep Strike

                  Ohhhh. It is 9pm. I just ate dinner. Both Smalls are still awake. Hardly believable. Each night has been like this for almost a week. We eat dinner. I walk with Small DB around the block while Small Z rides her scooter… We do the goodnight wee, teeth and two stories.

                  It is then that sleep is supposed to come. Small Z goes on strike at that point and I have been reduced to snapping, “Do whatever you want, just stay. in. your. room.” She reads in bed and then later comes out for a drink of milk…or a chat about dinosaurs…or whether soy milk is preferable to oat…and then cries as we have one, but not the other…

                  Meanwhile, Small DB bounces around resolutely sleepless. I get to sort out some kind of dinner for M and I, but I have this thing about eating uninterrupted… You know – the only kidfree time of my day and night? Then this is what she does…

                  Then she gets me to sit in the middle of the trampoline while she runs circles around me.

                  She has already got three of her four two-year-old molars (I’m assuming that’s what the huge teeth at the back of her head are). Those were the ones that made Christmas such a delight. Now she’s got THREE more coming through – and she’s not miserable, but she can’t get comfortable to go to sleep either. Medication does not seem to help… My sanity is waning…

                  Slip Sliding Away

                    Can’t even remember if I’ve written already about how big a chunk Christmas and all the associated hooha took out of, what I am tempted to refer to as, our routine. *boggle* The end of the structure that kindergarten gave our weeks… smooshed into Christmas (and the birthdays that bookend it)… yeah, well – it was all good…BUT…

                    It was only today that I realised how long it has been since a ‘normal(ish)’ week had occurred. You know – the one with me working on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and M at the boat all other days. He has marked (how weird it must to to have a name that is also a verb) the days that he has done boat-work on the calendar thus far this year – and it is scarily minimal.

                    Of course tomorrow is a public holiday and we have been asked to lunch in Emerald. And it’s the old toss up – do I ask M to come along because it will be more fun (and easier, wrangling-wise) or do I command him to STAY AND WORK ON THE BOAT?! It will probably be the former – because we all might be hit by a meteorite and at least then we would have seen our friends. Right?

                    Meanwhile – today was a home day of baking – biscotti and brownies – and making – pesto and a waterslide

                    It has taken five years, but Small Z has finally begun a phase that consists of her pouting, assuming a baby voice, and saying loudly, “I BORED.” I have so far resisted saying, “Well you better go to school then….” I figure I can definitely leave that one for my mother…

                    This is happening in the current context of her being unable to sleep and staying up until after 9pm. Death for kidfree time. Ruinous for five-year-old reasonableness and revolting when mixed with The Two-Year-Old-That-Won’t-Nap.

                    In the face of I BORED!! I put the hose at the top of the treehouse and announced I’d created a waterslide. It bought me an hour of excellence… :)

                    Z goes watersliding!
                    DB goes watersliding!

                    Just whistle…and sing

                      Just for posterity here are a few little videos. The first is Small DB showing me how she whistles and throwing in a pop-culture reference to the first song she ever wrote ;) called ‘Butter, Butter, Butter’. And once you’ve learnt the title, you’ve learnt the whole thing… Note her shrieking CHEESE! at the start because she thinks I’m taking her photograph…

                      And the following is over a minute long, where Small DB demonstrates her guitar chops and her in-depth lyrics. She’s just one month older than Small Z was when I filmed her performing her own seminal tune, ‘It Started Raining…’

                      Bathing in a bucket in Midwinter…

                        This is for posterity. I love how she is just making up all her own words and songs. She went on like this for several minutes…

                        I was inside doing the dishes and I heard a s-c-r-e-a-m. There had been a few screams over the course of the day, so I didn’t drop everything and run.

                        I got to the porch and poor Small DB was saying over and over, “Get me out, mama. Get me out. There’s a THING. THERE’S A THING!!” She was pointing to what I discovered was a stick insect about two feet away from her. I picked her up and she was so scared she was rigid :( After I took her inside and calmed her down, Small Z and I took her outside and showed her where I had relocated the stick insect.

                        We got her to look at it and see how beautiful it was. She nodded and smiled like a pro. When we came back inside she stated, “That thing. That creature? It was walking. I don’t like things that walk. I like things that are DEAD.” And went back to what she was doing. I almost fell on the floor with silent hysteria. She’s obviously genetically linked to her aracniphobic uncle – she won’t go unaccompanied to the toilet for fear of a daddy-long-legs…

                        Seasoning. Flying fox, treehouse and mud.

                          I don’t know how I’d go living in a place without proper seasons. The kind of tropical places where’s its all just wet or dry, hot or less hot. I would miss days like this, that start with a grey drizzle and end up sodden in sunshine – kids with their clothes off playing in the mud and feeding worms to the chooks. Putting the heater on low just as the sun goes down.

                          I suppose what I’m navigating towards is the realisation that I’d prefer to live in a place where it was Spring and Autumn – I would be almost willing to forego Summer and Winter. There would still be enough hot days left in early Autumn to get to the beach, and enough grey rain in Spring to spend days at home in woollies with soup and toast…

                          This was today.

                          Daisy coming in for landing. Flying fox!



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