November Fly on the Wall

Hello again my lovelies, it is time for the second last Fly on the Wall for the year. For any newcomers to this series what happens is a group of bloggers all join forces to share with you all the crazy and funny things you'd see if you were a fly on the wall in our houses this month.


This month 7 bloggers are participating. Be sure to visit them all and check out all of the fun.

Baking In A Tornado

Menopausal Mother                     

Spatulas on Parade

Never Ever Give Up Hope                   

Bookworm in the Kitchen                

The Blogging 911                       

Miss K: Mum can I have a choc chip cookie please? Me: No it's too close to dinner time. Miss K: Please? I want one. Me: Too bad. Please stop nagging me. Miss K: Mum can I have a choc chip cookie? Me: No. I said stop nagging me please. Miss K: I didn't nag because I didn't say please. We had a big thunderstorm come through the town yesterday. This is how my nephew Jakey responds to thunder. Jakey: What was that?
Sam: That was just thunder. Jakey: No, I think it's a bomb. I woke up one morning to Miss K making my bed while I was still in it. As it was still early I rolled over and went back to sleep until my alarm when off. When I finally decided to get up all hell broke loose. Miss K: Mum, you messed up the bed. I just made that. Me: Welcome to parenting sweetheart, where kids mess your shit up as you're cleaning. Pro tip though, next time don't make the bed while someone is still sleeping in it. I was helping in Miss K's class when one of her classmates dropped this gem on me Connor: I'm going to copy Lachy's work because he's smart. Me: Well I want to see you try to do this for yourself because I know for a fact there's a big brain in that head of yours. Connor: No, I don't have a brain anymore. You wanna know why?
Me: Ok this should be good, why don't you have a brain anymore?
Connor: Because someone said something so crazy it made my brain explode and now it's gone. Me: You're going to make my brain explode in a minute Connor.  So Kim was in hospital this month suffering from organ failure, which you wouldn't think is a laughing matter. Kim didn't seem to get the memo that hospitals are serious however as the following story from Natalie shows. Nat: When Kim was first admitted she was in and out of consciousness, and there was a heap of doctors around her at all times. One doctor in particular kept making suggestions for treatment options and he kept getting shut down. Obviously Kim was getting tired of it because at one stage she woke up looked at him and said "This is a house of learned doctors and you need to learn to listen."  Me: Seriously? Nat: Yeah. She had the doctors in stitches apparently. They told her about it the next morning and she refused to believe them at first. It wasn't until more people kept coming up to her and telling her the same story did she finally believe them. At one of their conferences they discussed a decision they'd made that had worked, and one of the doctors said it worked because they were learned doctors.  The epilogue to that story is that after several weeks of some very serious treatments Kim is finally better, her organs are working again and she was discharged yesterday to continue healing at home. 
Nat: So Dave and I had an argument the other day. Me: What was it this time?
Nat: He asked me to remind him to grab his drink bottles before we left to go home and I told him to set himself a reminder on his phone. Halfway home he remembers the drink bottles and he cracked it at me for not reminding him. I went off at him for not setting the reminder like I told him. I figured he realised at the time that was all I was going to do for him, I'm not his mother, and he's old enough to be doing this for himself now. Me: I feel sorry for your poor children when you finally have them. You're going to be a mean mum. Nat: What do you mean? Me: You're six years old now, you're old enough to figure out how to get yourself up and out the door for school now. Nat: Hey, blame the childcare industry. We're forced to foster independence in kids from a really young age. Well that's all from this corner of the world, don't forget to visit all the other blogs participating today and keep the fun going.

May Fly on the Wall

It is time once again for Fly on the Wall. The series that allows you a sneak peek of all the crazy things you'd see if you were a fly on the wall at our house. 

Today 9 bloggers are participating in the fun. Be sure to visit them all to keep the fun going.

Baking In A Tornado

Menopausal Mother                     

Eileen’s Perpetually Busy 

Spatulas on Parade                    

A Little Piece of Peace                 

Never Ever Give Up Hope                   

Bookworm in the Kitchen                   

Not That Sarah Michelle

 I have a friend Helen whose daughter went to kindergarten with Miss K last year, and they've come to the same school as us this year. One day I had Helen on the phone with me for an hour worried senseless about her daughter's refusal to complete her school work and her attitude in general, and all I could do was reassure her that what her daughter was going through was pretty normal for a 6-year-old, and she shouldn't be so hard on herself. Not even an hour after I got off the phone with her the school called me to let me know Miss K had decided that day was the perfect day to go on strike and she was refusing to do any of her work. I got the issue sorted out, but figured this was just what Helen needed to hear to make her feel better. So, come pick up time I marched through the school gates to Miss K's classroom, interrupted Helen's conversation with some of the other mums and proudly yelled out

"You want proof all 6 year olds are assholes? my daughter went on strike today."     

Needless to say, my yelling got the attention of all the other mums, so Helen had to explain why I was yelling about asshole kids, and then we all spent the next 10 minutes sharing war stories of all the attitude we get off our darling children. On the plus side, Helen felt much better by the time the kids were finished school for the day. 

Miss K and I were snuggling together in my polar fleece blanket.

Miss K: This blanket is made of polar bear fleas. 

Nat: Did you know Dave has never seen Robin Hood Men in Tights?
Me: Seriously? Was he raised in a cupboard under the stairs or something?
Nat: I think so.

This is what happens when you leave my sister Nat unsupervised for 3 days. Her answer to my question was 'bout 5'4"

Miss K has discovered that she can whistle much to my dismay.

Me: Miss K put your whistle in your pocket.

Miss K simulates pulling a whistle out of her mouth and then mashes her hand in my face.

Me: Did you just take my whistle out too?

Miss K: No, I put it in you.

Me: That's what he said.

Miss K: What?
Me: Never mind. Are you ready to go yet?

Sam was complaining to me about someone talking crap about her to her husband Jason.

Sam: Don't waste your time being nice to my face only to talk crap about me behind my face.

Eliza starts laughing uncontrollably 

Sam: What?
Eliza: No, nothing, I just think it would be a bit hard to squeeze in behind your face to start talking about you.

Sam: Oh, yeah, it's behind my back, isn't it?

Me: Yeah.

Miss K: You have to marry dad.

Me: Nah, I don't wanna do that, he smells.

Miss K: If you don't marry daddy, he'll never be my uncle.

Me: Um that's not how that works sweetheart.

Nat: How do you make orange? It's yellow and red, right?

Me: Do I need to make you watch Blue’s Clues again to learn your colours?

Nat: Did I tell you about the time I tried to make purple paint at work?

Me: No.

Nat: So, purple is made of blue and red right? Well for some reason I mixed green and red together.

Me: So, you made a lovely shade of poo brown then?

Nat: Yep. I just stared at it and was like wait a minute, you're not purple.

One day I was at Sam's place typing up a blog post while she had a nap on the couch. At one stage, she sits bolt upright in her chair

Sam: WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?!?!?

I jump in fright and look over at her and she's staring into the kitchen. I look in the kitchen and see nothing.

Me: What the hell is what?

By the time the words have left my mouth she's lying back down again asleep and I had to spend the next ten minutes trying to get my heart to stop beating out of my chest. I still have no idea what she saw because she doesn't remember it at all.

Me: I remember when you went through that phase where you wanted to name all your pets foreign words for animals. Like you have a fish and you name it fish.

Nat: Yeah, the problem with that was the only other word I knew for fish was from an Asian language and it was literally just five or six fs. So, I would have just gone around saying "This is my fish, ffffff."

Text from Ady. Just call me Amy Farafella. Also, my go to attack seems to be to accuse everyone of being high the minute they stop making any sense to me.

Mum: So, the youngest cleaner at school is dating one of the students, and she comes and helps him at work. Well she's been taking a lot of days off lately to take care of her mum, and she's been warned she needs to start attending more. Tonight, she's helping her boyfriend and she spots her co-ordinator talking to someone else and she ducks out of sight. Five minutes later her boyfriend comes walking down the path with a random bin he's not meant to have, and no girlfriend to be seen. He was sneaking her past the teacher in the bin. 

The following conversation is related to the computer game Minecraft

Nat: The other night my pigs decided to form a pig centipede.

Me: Ew, that's creepy.

Nat: Yeah it is, to say the least. Actually, to say the least would be to say "eh".

Me: And to think we used to have to pretend to laugh at your jokes when you were a kid.

Nat: Hey! Maybe it was a good thing that worked.

Me: Well that was the plan.

Nat: Dave thinks I'm funny.

Me: Dave grew up living under the stairs, of course he thinks you're funny.

Sam: There's one important thing we forgot to consider when buying our son a bunk bed.

Me: Oh yeah? What's that?
Sam: How long it takes to get off a bunk bed when you need to vomit.

Me: Oh dear. 

I'll spare you the gory details, but needless to say, my nephew didn't make it to the toilet in time.

Sam A: I used to be convinced that my life was like a reality show and I was the star.

Me: I used to think that too, but it made me really self-conscious when I needed to pick my nose. 

Miss K: Mum is my heart beating?
I put my head on her chest and check
Me: It sure is kiddo.

Miss K: So, I'm not dead then?
Me: No, I'm pretty sure you're still alive.

Miss K: Phew.

I help out in Miss K's class on Fridays. This is a conversation I had with one of the boys in the reading group I take each week.

Connor: Your name is Grumpy Old Man Zucchini.

Me: Oh yeah? Well your name is Disgruntled Pumpkin. 

Connor: You're completely bonkers.

Me: Yep.

Well that's all the crazy I can squeeze into one post for now, be sure to visit all the other bloggers as they've all got their own special brand of fun going on today too.

Timeline of a 2am spew fest

Scene: It is very early in the morning and you are lying in bed enjoying a peaceful sleep as you do every night. Next to you is the tiny figure of a child, who makes their way into your room every night for snuggles, but tonight is not like every other night as you are about to find out.

1:58am: You notice that the figure next to you is more restless than normal. This fact barely registers in your sleeping thoughts, but you do notice it through your dream.
2:00am: You are woken up by the first choking sounds of an impending spew by the body next to you. In your sleep addled state you have the presence of mind to throw the blankets off her before the spew-pocalypse begins. There is no time to do anything else after that.
2:01am: You turn on the light and see the huge task that awaits you. There is now a vomit covered child sitting on a vomit soaked mattress crying. You run to the kitchen to grab a bucket in case there is any more vomit to come, but you might as well not bother, the damage is done. You insult the small child by offering her the bucket as she no longer possesses the desire to throw up.
2:03am: You gingerly strip off the child and send her towards the bathroom to await cleaning. You figure that area is all tiles and lino so it will be easier to clean if her reassurances she doesn't feel sick anymore turn out to be all lies.
2:04am: You turn to your bed, which now resembles a scene from Dante's Inferno and begin stripping the bedclothes. You sigh as you add  this stain to the long list of pre-existing stains that your child has already kindly donated to your mattress.  The bedclothes are piled up outside the laundry along with the pyjamas.
2:06am: You grab some clean pyjamas and a towel for your child and head to the bathroom to break up the argument that has started between her and your mother, as she insists that YOU are the one who must now clean her up. You throw the clothes on the floor then remember that you forgot underpants. You dash to the bedroom, nearly breaking your next in the process on the mountain of toys on the floor that she insists is her shop. You run back to the bathroom where the argument has continued in your absence and confirm to your child that you are indeed going to be the one who cleans her up. Your mum heads off to make you a coffee. You are going to need it.
2:10am: You end up having to get into the shower with your crying child, because she has just remembered she is terrified of the shower and is refusing to enter alone. It doesn't matter that you already showered today, you're now going to have a record breaking two showers in one day.
2:16am: You have scrubbed your child from top to bottom and she is finally not crying, and no longer afraid of the shower. In fact she is now "swimming" on the shower floor and giggling, her recent stomach fireworks a distant memory. This is the point at which you realise you never grabbed a towel for yourself.
2:17am: You are now standing naked and dripping wet in your bathroom drying off your child. Both of you are shivering, but only one of you is covered by a towel and receiving a rigorous drying off. The other of you is a grown adult and has to suck it up. You quickly throw on your nightgown after a quick check to make sure you ducked the contents of her stomach earlier and curse as it sticks to your wet back. You get your child dressed quickly and send her to the lounge room where your mum has turned on the heater. There is a coffee waiting for you, but you want to complete your next task with an empty stomach.
2:24am: You have dragged all of the soiled bedding to the bathroom and commence rinsing everything off before you put them in the washing machine. This task comes complete with gagging and heaving, because of course, you are a sympathetic vomiter. This is why you needed an empty stomach. The mess compels you to ask your child exactly when they ate lettuce, because you know they hate lettuce, but you have evidence on your sheets that they have somehow consumed it today.
2:34am: Gasping for fresh air you march to the laundry with your newly rinsed pile of laundry and get it into the washing machine. You add a double scoop of laundry powder and some soaking agent with anti-bacterial stuff in it. You hope this is enough to convince your brain that these bed sheets are not horror tainted evil forever more so you can put them back on your bed tomorrow.
2:35am: Before you head to the lounge room you go back to your bedroom and throw open the window as wide as it will go. You hope this is enough to get rid of the smell.
2:36am: You finally get to sit down to a coffee. This is the point where you realise you have nowhere to sleep tonight, as your bed needs to be scrubbed down and blessed by a priest before you will lie in it again. You decide to grab the mattresses from your child's bed and the trundle bed you keep for sleepovers and drag them into the lounge room. But first, coffee.
2:50am: You watch your "sick" child dance around the lounge room with a seemingly endless source of energy. You wonder for about the millionth time since becoming a parent whether she is siphoning energy from you. It is at this point where you remember that her dad is meant to be taking her to the park tomorrow so you send him a quick message explaining that she is possibly unwell so tomorrow's excursion will need to be cancelled. You do not expect a reply because only an idiot would be awake at this time of the morning.
2:55am: You drag the mattresses into the lounge room and set your child up to sleep. You turn on the TV to get her to sit still. Your mum returns to bed, having kindly kept you company during the grossest parts, she is relieved of her duties and free to fall back into the kind of sound sleep only someone whose child has not just thrown up can have. You envy her that luxury.
3:05am: You turn off the lights and try to fall asleep to the sound of Dora the Explorer. This fails as you haven't seen this episode, so you can't resist the temptation to watch. This is why you watch the same movie every single night to go to sleep. You can't sleep through something new.
3:30am: You finally turn off the television. Neither of you are sleeping and you can't handle the excitement of Nick Jr. any more. You spend the next twenty minutes reminding your "sick" child that she is meant to be sleeping right now and stroking her back. Every time she makes a new noise you feel compelled to ask her how her stomach is feeling, just to hear her say it feels good and calm. This doesn't fill you with as much confidence as it should. You do not trust your child anymore.
4:00am: Your child is finally asleep. You think this would be your cue to sleep as well, however this is the point where you discover your daughter makes really loud noises with her mouth in her sleep. (Has she always done this?) Every new noise jolts you awake and you regret not putting a bucket on the ground next to her.
4:30am(ish): You finally fall asleep somehow, but it isn't a restful sleep. You are still paranoid there will be a repeat performance and you can feel the ground underneath the paper thin mattress you are lying on. You resign yourself to the fact that tomorrow is going to be a bad day.
6:00am: You are woken up by a bright eyed and bushy tailed child. She is feeling fabulous and wants food. You turn on the television to distract her and go back to sleep. Might as well catch some more sleep while you can.
9:00am: You are woken up by the telephone. Her father has been trying to get on to you for an hour now and wants to make sure everything is OK. You reassure him it appears to have been a one off event, but she needs to stay home today just to make sure. He informs you he is coming over today to see her, and you resign yourself to the fact that your sleep is over. Thank God for coffee.

End Scene

Teaching Good Sportsmanship Like a Jerk

One of my biggest fears in life is that my daughter is not going to be a nice person when she's all grown up. I shudder at the thought of my sweet caring little girl being an absolute jerk to someone and not giving it a second thought. Of course there is nothing I have seen yet to indicate that this is going to be the case, and I take every opportunity to teach Miss K about being considerate and thoughtful, but human nature means we're all jerks sometimes. And I was a jerk this week.

A lot of Miss K's time these days is spent preparing for school next year. Kindergarten is teaching her the education side of things, and the social side of things, but it's still my job to teach her basically everything else. I assumed that teaching children to be good sports would be included in her learning at kindergarten, but either the opportunity has never come up before, or Miss K has never shown that she needs the lesson there. She's never really shown me before this week that she needed it either, but I found out this week that she is quite happy to gloat when she beats someone, and I wasn't ok with it.

Part of this problem will have come from me. I have always encouraged a healthy interest in competition in Miss K, as I feel it is necessary to get ahead in life. But because she is only five, I let her win a lot when we compete against each other. (Except when it comes to running, she beats me fair and square when we race, I'm just too chubby and lazy to really run.) So Miss K has a confidence that she can win with ease thanks to me. Now I know that confidence is key, but too much confidence leads to arrogance, and I don't want my child to be a fat head. So I've slowly started winning more and more, just to teach her that winning isn't always guaranteed, but that just makes the wins she does get bigger in her mind. And with her new victories came gloating.

Miss K and I were bored the other night so we decided to play a few board games for an hour before bedtime. We started with Kerplunk, which I've had in our games cupboard for years now, but we've never played so I was excited to introduce her to a game I loved as a child. (We even had a Star Trek version because my big sister is a giant nerd.) I won each game, but the longer we played, the harder I had to work for my victories, as Miss K got a feel for the strategy that is Kerplunk. This is where her sense of competition was good. She was happy to lose, but she learned from her losses and used that lesson to bridge the gap between us in each new round. Eventually we got bored with having to reset the game each time so we swapped to Hungry, Hungry Dinos (Yeah, yeah I know that's not the real game, but board games are expensive OK?) Now Miss K was in her element. She loves quick fire games and beat me hands down every single round. I wasn't letting her win either, these were real losses for me. I was impressed by her performance until she started calling my dinosaurs losers.

I was shocked by her attitude, I've never gloated around her as I find that behaviour really off putting.  I tried the Mike Brady method of lecturing her on the dinosaur's feelings. (Yet another in a long list of bizarre conversations I've had to have with my daughter.) I let her know that it isn't nice to point out that someone is a loser if they don't win a game, and using words like that can hurt someone's feelings. She agreed with me and I thought the matter was settled, but she went back to calling the dinosaurs losers straight away. So Mike Brady lost round one. I decided it was time to lead by example, and this is where I became a jerk.

It's like the old lesson we used to teach our children when they learn how to bite, if they bite us, we bite back. (Of course I don't condone biting your children, please don't bite the kids.) But if you want a kid to know how something feels, you let them experience it. So I swapped the game to one where the odds were stacked in my favour; We had thumb war. (Another throwback to my own childhood and the many thumb wars I had with my big sister where she usually beat me easily.) I won the round of course, and then I proceeded to do a victory dance (which may or may not have included a song calling Miss K a loser).

Yeah, yeah, I know, I was a huge meanie. I can only imagine how many of you are burning up with rage right now, but Miss K got the point straight away. She now knew how it felt to be called a loser, and she knew how horrible it felt. Now you may think I overreacted, she was insulting a plastic moulded toy that is unable to feel emotions or even hear her words, but that wasn't the point. One day she is going to play sports with other children who do have ears and feelings that can be easily hurt, and I don't want her to be the jerk gloating over winning a stupid game when it actually matters. I reiterated how words can hurt feelings, and we talked about the correct way to behave whether you win or lose, and we finished our match by telling each other "Good game".

So while I don't officially condone calling your kids losers, or gloating around them, or deliberately beating them at games, sometimes you have to be a jerk to prove a point. Hopefully my daughter now has a better sense of humility, and will be more gracious with her wins and her losses. Or one day I'll get a huge bill from a therapist for all the damage I'm doing as I stumble through being a parent. Only time will tell.

I would love to hear about any other parents out there who have had similar ethical dilemmas that they solved by being less than perfect. Hit me up in the comments down below and let me know how much you now pay for therapy per month. I get the feeling I'm going to need to start a savings account very soon.

Why abstinence based education is harmful at any age

So today I have a ranty post for you guys, and I'd love to hear opinions that aren't mine at the end of this, so pay close attention lovely peoples.

For a bit of a background before I get into the nitty gritty, NAPCAN (or the National Association for Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect) are holding their annual child protection week from 4th to 10th September. As a part of the lead up to this week, and as a new initiative brought into schools, daycare centres and kindergartens, all children are being given lots of lectures about safety and healthy living at the moment. In Miss K's kindergarten in the last week alone they have used this as an excuse to discuss healthy foods, anatomy and exercise. They will also be holding various conversations about protective behaviour etc. One thing they have already discussed is acceptable physical contact, but I'm not impressed with the way they have handled this.

On Wednesday afternoon when all us parents went in to pick up our darling monsters, the head teacher informed us all that they had had to have a discussion about appropriate physical contact between the kids while at kindergarten. They had put in a total ban on hugging and kissing, and the kids saying I love you to each other.  This isn't the part I really had a problem with, I know that a zero contact policy is usually the norm at schools and kindergartens, so while bringing problems of its own, it is to be expected. It was when she told us that they had also informed the kids of the acceptable people to hug and kiss outside of kindergarten that I had an issue. Now I'm not sure if she was only giving us the abridged version for the sake of not holding us up too long, however when it was explained to us, she informed that the list of acceptable people to hug, kiss, and give admissions of love to outside of kindergarten consisted of parents, grandparents and siblings. That was the entire list she gave to us. Later on at home when I questioned Miss K about this, she repeated that list back to me, however given she has proven time and time again that she doesn't have the most reliable memory, she may have only been going off the abridged version that we were given at pick up. But even if that wasn't the complete list, that is what Miss K has taken from their conversation and I am mad as hell about this.

Number one, while I appreciate that they are madly trying to cram as much education about protective behaviours into a tiny window of space, with an audience not known for its attention span, it's not their damn job to dictate what my child does outside of kindergarten. I am the one who makes the rules outside of those four walls, and I do not appreciate anyone coming in and thinking they know better than me about what is best for my child. This new protective behaviours education is meant to be aimed at the parents, and not the children, so lecture me by all means, but don't do it through my child.

Number two, if that was the complete list of acceptable people to hug, go to hell. In my family alone there are eight aunts and uncles and five cousins which were excluded from that list. Then there are the family friends who we love to give affection too. Then there are the ladies at the supermarket who are always up for a hug and a chat. By making any kind of list of acceptable people to give physical affection too, they make this a shameful act, which it isn't. It is an innocent show of love and friendship given by an incredibly friendly child, and to place limits on it changes it into something dirty which I refuse to allow to happen. This isn't like the list of people Miss K isn't allowed to swear in front of, this isn't something we have to hide. Physical affection is an actual biological need. Multiple studies have shown the importance of affection and physical contact to the human brain and body, and to limit it runs the risk of harm.

I already put zero tolerance physical contact rules right up there next to abstinence based sexual education programs, and this just cements my convictions. By teaching kids the best way to be safe is to not do something, you do them a disservice. You ignore a young person's natural inclination towards curiosity and experimentation, and you fail to keep them safe. By teaching abstinence of any form, you fail to teach children to know their own limits and the limits of the people around them. You fail to teach them self preservation, because it assumes that for the rest of their life, everyone is just going to comply to the rules they were taught, which never ever actually happens. You also fail to teach them about consent which is one of the biggest lesson we can teach our kids before we let them out into the big wide world. In the short term abstinence looks like the safest option, but we have seen time and time again that it is the most dangerous thing to learn.

The only silver lining I can see out of all of this is that it forced me to have a conversation with Miss K about consent. We sat down at home and I explained to her that people were allowed to not want physical affection, and that she has to accept their wishes, I also let her know that she was allowed to refuse physical contact, and that it was her right to have her refusal accepted. This is the lesson she was meant to learn that day, not that hugs are dirty and must be stopped. I'm sure I'll need to have this conversation again and again, especially as she gets older and I begin preparing her for a world where rape apologists exist, but for now it is simply about being allowed to say no to a hug.

I would love to know what you think. Am I overreacting in my anger at the kindergarten? Do you think they botched their attempts? Do you agree with them? Let me know down below in the comments.

This is what happens when you give me 3 days notice

So for anyone who read my last post you might think that was enough insanity for this week. Sadly there is no such thing as enough insanity in our household, so allow me to show you yet another moment that had me wanting to tear my hair out. 

Do I have any people in my audience who work for the Department of Education?? No need to out yourselves, especially after the rant I'm about to go on, but can this be passed on to the higher ups somewhere pretty please? I'm asking, no I'm begging you guys to stop organising dress up days at schools and kindergartens.

For anyone out there who thinks I'm just being a grinch right now, clearly you have never had the panic of being told THREE DAYS before a dress up event that your child is required to come to school/kindergarten this week dressed up as something from some random theme that there is no way in hell you have anything that relates to in your dress up box. Admittedly our dress up box is one fairy dress because Miss K really isn't into dressing up much, and she rarely wears the one costume she does own. She's just as happy putting on a pair of my shoes and pretending to be me. But when the theme of your dress up day is "Australian" it is difficult to put a national spin on a fairy dress. Short of teaming it with a pair of thongs (flip flops Americans, I know.) and a bottle of VB beer and going as a bogan fairy, I really struggled to come up with an idea. (For any non-Australians who don't know what a bogan is, please feel free to Google it.)

For any of you who aren't from Australia, you definitely have no idea what the heck I'm panicking about, so allow me to fill you in. Here in Australia we are about to celebrate book week starting on 20th August. I know this is about three months after you guys do, but we're always about a step behind so it's all good. This year the theme was Australian books/illustrators. I'm all for highlighting the local talent we have around here, especially for authors whose works I have enjoyed in the past like John Marsden, Paul Jennings, Andy Griffiths, and the wonderful Melina Mallos whose latest book I reviewed a few months ago. So for me that part was a big plus. The giant steaming bag of poop however was that I didn't find out until Monday of this week that we had to dress up on Thursday, and it had to fit the theme of book week. If I was any more fiscal than I actually am this wouldn't be a problem, I could just run down to the local shopping centre and find a costume. However given it is currently my off pay week, and any money I do have I've selfishly decided needs to be spent on food, this was not an option.

Luckily for me, this isn't my first rodeo. I have been given minimal notice of special occasions more than once by our kindergarten, despite the fact that we have a Facebook page and they have our email addresses so they can send out newsletters, so I know what it means to rush around like a headless chicken just so my child isn't left out of the fun. First I had to Google Australian children's books for inspiration and discovered to my joy that two of my favourite kids books are actually by Australians, Where is the Green Sheep and The Very Cranky Bear. My first thought was she could go as the green sheep, and just stay home and have a nap. (For any of you who haven't read Where is the Green Sheep and do not get my reference, please go out and find yourself a copy, it is a great book for kids, and it is so easy to read Miss K reads it to me nowadays.) But in the end I decided that would be too mean so we decided to dress Miss K up as the very cranky bear. I was able to do this with thanks to an empty egg carton, an old headband I had lying around and some icy pole sticks and toothpicks. It wasn't pretty by any means, and if Martha Stewart was grading me I'd get a C for effort and an F for enthusiasm. There is photographic evidence, just because this will look excellent on her photo board at her 21st, but that doesn't mean I can't share it now with you guys. I call this photos "This is what happens when you give me 3 days notice."

That's her best cranky bear face. Either that or she's impersonating the hunchback of Notre Dame, I really can't tell. 

Of course you look at the grin on her face in that picture and you realise she loves her costume, so I guess I can call it a win. What that photo does not show is the fact that one minute after the picture was taken the headpiece broke, so she ended up going to kindergarten with a bear nose. So my C for effort changed to an F.

The kindergarten very kindly told us that we didn't have to follow the theme if it was too hard. The only problem is they did it on Wednesday night after I had already spent an hour making this thing and I had no other alternative anyway so we went with cranky bear followed closely by her stressed and very cranky mum. I like to team with the theme you know. (Hats off to any Kath and Kim fans who read that in Kath's voice just now.)

So this is why I'm begging the powers that be to please stop making dress up days a part of the curriculum. You probably think you're doing something nice for the kids, breaking up the monotony that is learning, and giving them fun memories to carry on into their adulthood. What you don't see is the stressed out parents behind the scenes madly trying to figure out how to turn an old beer box and three empty tin cans into a cowboy outfit. We put enough pressure on ourselves to be perfect parents without you guys adding to that pressure by increasing our workload with all of these "fun" extra activities. 

Well that's all from me for now, there will definitely be more insanity to come soon, as I have so many more reasons to pull my hair out right now I'll be as bald as Bruce Willis before you know it. Is anyone interested in doing a reboot of GI Jane anytime soon because I'm sure I'll be a shoe-in for the lead. You'll even get my best crazy eyed stare for free. 

My child is an imaginary friend killer

So today I have to discuss my strangest parenting moment to date. This is so strange Google wasn't even able to help me. I'm sharing my story today in the hopes that if anyone else has come upon this problem you can come find me, bring me whiskey and we'll discuss how weird our children are together.  For any of you who follow me on Twitter, you may already know what I'm about to discuss because I mentioned it this morning, so you can just sit back while I fill you in on the rest of the story that I couldn't fit into 140 characters.

Miss K made some imaginary friends recently Mario and Baby Mario. These
friends have been named after Mario Kart for two reasons, 1. Miss K is absolutely nuts about Mario Kart on the Wii and 2. She is terrible at coming up for names for her toys and imaginary friends. I was first introduced to Mario and Baby Mario one night as I was getting Miss K ready for bed. She simply informed me that they were very tired and were also ready for bed. This was all fine, I probably made some small comment about them putting their pyjamas on and going to the toilet before bedtime (I don't like cleaning up wet mattresses during the night, not even imaginary ones).

Mario and Baby Mario made several guest appearances with us during the next few weeks, sometimes they'd show up while we were playing, or they'd accompany us to kindergarten, the usual imaginary friend stuff. I was never asked to lay extra places for them at dinner time, and they never asked for biscuits or snacks when Miss K was eating, so I have to commend them on their excellent manners.

One day while I was brushing Miss K's hair getting ready for kindergarten she started throwing one of her daily "I don't need my hair brushed today mum, I'm happy looking like a hobo" tantrums. Everything was going swimmingly until she started yelling at no one to STOP LOOKING AT HER!!!! I asked her who she was yelling at and she told me Mario and Baby Mario were staring at her while she cried. This has always been one of Miss K's buttons, and she's never liked having an audience when she is having a bad moment. We usually combat this by getting Miss K to remove herself from the audience until she is calmed down and ready to act reasonably. Unfortunately given the audience this time was all in Miss K's head, I had no solution at the ready, other than to tell her it's not nice to yell at her friends just because she's having a bad moment. I gave the usual lecture about treating our friends nicely, while wondering to myself that if Miss K is the one who controls the actions of her imaginary friends, why not just stop them from staring at her, or don't imagine them staring at her in the first place.

But today things took a turn for the bizarre. We had a bad morning today. Miss K was feeling tired and grumpy, she didn't want to put her own shoes on, she didn't want to carry her bag to the car, and she tried (unsuccessfully) to slam the door in my face when we were leaving the house. She rushed ahead of me to the car, and tried to open the door. Usually I unlock the door by remote so that she can run to the car and get in while I'm locking up, just to save time, but given her behaviour at the time I decided she needed a lesson in patience and controlling her temper, so I didn't unlock the door until I got to the car. This just resulted in Miss K getting embarrassed when the door didn't open immediately for her, and we got the fifth tantrum of the day. This tantrum included her throwing invisible things around as well as the usual stomping and other fun kid stuff I get to witness that no one else believes me when I say my kid does these things. I didn't pay much attention to the throwing at the time, but when we finally got into the car she informed me that her friends were dead. Clue the light bulb going off above my head as I realise her imaginary throwing was her chucking Mario and Baby Mario onto the road. When I asked her why she killed her friends she told me it was because she was sad. Cue the obligatory lecture about treating friends nicely when we're dealing with tough emotions and the extra lecture about if she isn't nice to her friends they won't stick around just to be abused. This again was weird because I'm still aware we're talking about figments of her imagination.

The big thing about Miss K killing her imaginary friends and then telling me about it was she was implying their deaths were my fault because I was the one who had embarrassed her by not opening her door, and by always ruining her life in general. Given I am not that easily manipulated her plan to make me feel bad for pulling her into line failed, but to add insult to injury I then used my super magic powers to bring her imaginary friends back to life, at which time I claimed them as my own imaginary friends, because people don't like hanging around with anyone who kills them, imaginary or not. So now, not only has she lost two friends, she has to hear about me bragging about all the awesome fun we have together that she is no longer privy to.

What gets me the most about all of this is that Google was totally unable to help me sort through everything I'm dealing with right now. 99% of the posts on imaginary friends told me that either my daughter has schizophrenia or she is possessed by demonic spirits. I highly doubt the first one, and considering I already call her my little hell beast I'm not totally surprised by the second one, but am still ruling it out as an explanation given how quick she was to dispose of them in the most Looney Tunes way possible. Is it just an unspoken rule of parenting that we're not meant to discuss when our children straight up murder the figments of their imagination? Are there underground support groups for mums who have had to hide imaginary bodies or field questions from imaginary police officers about the whereabouts of these suddenly missing imaginary friends? Are there imaginary milk cartons out there with photos of these people? Can I call the imaginary crime stoppers and report my daughter for this?

I've spoken to Miss K's dad about today's events and his only response has been to tell me she is most definitely my daughter, and to congratulate me for making new friends for myself. So no help whatsoever. He couldn't even give me the number of a good imaginary lawyer just in case we end up going to trial. I can't be held as an accessory to an imaginary crime, what will the neighbours think?

So I guess the purpose of today's post is to give other parents who are dealing with their children killing off their imaginary friends a different place to land that isn't going to tell them their child is possessed or mentally unstable. Can I offer you a solution to your problem? Probably not. I can't promise that my solution is really effective as I'm still waiting for the therapy bills to start piling up and that could take years, so consider this a work in progress. If any of you have come upon the same problem and solved it differently to me I'd love to know what you did and if it worked. Did they make new imaginary friends? Did they also kill these imaginary friends? Did they end up in imaginary jail with a cellmate called Big Daddy? Do I need to start daytime drinking?

Well that's all from my crazy corner of the world for now, I'm sure Miss K and I will be back to make you all feel better about your own families very soon.

July Fly on the Wall

Welcome to another instalment of Fly on the Wall. This is by far my favourite time of the month. I get to share little stories and tid-bits you'd hear if you were a fly on the wall. Today I am joined by 8 other bloggers who are all sharing their innermost crazy. Be sure to buzz around and visit all of them.

Baking In A Tornado
Menopausal Mother
Spatulas on Parade
Never Ever Give Up Hope
Dinosaur Superhero Mommy
Southern Belle Charm
Go Mama O
Molly Ritterbeck

I'm going to warn you now that there is a lot  of toilet humor in today's post. I try to keep things as clean as possible around here, however sometimes life has a way of keeping things in the gutter when I'm around. If you are easily offended I'd look away now.

Mum: I think I'm hungry.
Me: Well let me know when you're sure.
Mum: Why? Are you going to do something about it?
Me: No, I'm just really invested in this story.

My little sister Kim is staying with us at the moment, and my favourite thing to do with her is turn everything she says into an innuendo. It bugs the hell out of her, but it's not my fault she's so filthy.

Me: I remember that pie I made that had the cod in it, I was pretty proud of that fish pie.
Kim: Oh I remember that. I loved eating your fish pie.
My cue to fall on the floor laughing.
Kim: Oh shut up.

Kim: Mum do you want your meat separated
My cue to fall on the floor laughing
Kim: Stop it. I'm just trying to figure out if mum wants her pork loins in twos.
I have to rush to the toilet to prevent having an accident on my couch.
Kim: I hate you.

Mum walked in to the room and started smacking me in the back of the head.
Me: Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.
Mum: Oh sorry I'm just like Pavlov's dog. Whenever I see you I have to hit you.
Kim: Mum, it's not nice to call her Pavlov's dog.
Me: No, mum is Pavlov's dog. And for future reference it's called a Pavlovian response mum.
Kim: I know all about the pavlova response, I work in childcare.

Me: I'm a diverse person.
Mum: I thought you were about to say you're a diabetic.

Me: Mum do you have regrets?
Mum: I have a few, too few to mention.
Me: No, I'm being serious. Thanks a lot Frank Sinatra, I'm going to punch you in the nads when I next see you.

Me: Miss K have you eaten your dinner yet?
Miss K: I don't like it. I want a different dinner.
Me: Well this isn't a restaurant. You eat what I put in front of you or you go hungry.
Miss K: Well let's pretend this is a restaurant then and you make me something else.
Me: If this is a restaurant it's a soup kitchen, where you get what you're given or go hungry.
Miss K: I don't like this restaurant.

Mum: You're getting more and more anti-social as you get older.
Me: Yep I know. I love it.
Mum: I don't.
Me: When you think about it, I've spent fourteen years speaking on the phone to people I don't know or don't like.
Mum: I'm your mum.
Me: FOURTEEN YEARS MUM!

Miss K came up while I was surfing the web and started randomly mashing at my keyboard.
Me: Don't you even think about it miss.
Miss K: I'm going to think about it.

Earlier this month one of my dad's sons from his first marriage became a grandfather for the first time. This makes my dad a great-grandpa and me a great-aunt. This news disturbed me because I feel at 32 I'm way too young for this crap. However it does make for great conversations with the family.

Me: I found out today that dad is a great-grandpa.
Ben: Whose kid had kids?
Me: One of [older brothers] kids, not sure if it was [nephew 1] or [nephew 2].
Ben: That's crazy.
Me: Tell me about it. That makes you a great-uncle, and yet still so mediocre.
Ben: That's the pot calling the kettle black.

Me: This is freakin' weird.
Mum: What?
Me: I'm a great-aunt.
Mum: (laughs) Meh, you're ok...

Here is another in the wonderful series of Minecraft conversations which sound weird without context.

Eliza: I have a head. Where did that come from? Mum where are you, I have a head.

Miss K has been sick on and off with various viruses these past two months, but one night she woke up with weird swelling in her chin. I rushed her straight to our after hours medical service where we were prescribed antibiotics for an infection which had caused her glands to swell up like a balloon.

Dr: Now one of the side effects of this antibiotic is diarrhoea.
Me: Did you hear that Miss K? This medicine may give you runny poos.
Miss K: Runny poos in my neck?
I don't think the doctor appreciated that I laughed so hard at Miss K's shock.

Sadly for us, that visit to the doctor wasn't the end of the saga, and after going to my own GP for a second opinion we were told to rush to the local hospital as the swelling was an indication Miss K was forming an abscess in her neck. Miss K ended up spending three nights in hospital on IV antibiotics, and I spent three nights sleeping on a mattress on the floor in the ward next to her. but she took all of the poking, prodding and needles like an absolute trooper and on the fourth day we were finally allowed to go home. She's still on antibiotics for the time being, as there is still some swelling in her neck, but we've hopefully avoided surgery as long as her recovery continues as well as it has.

Conversation in a public toilet.
Miss K: Mum I did poos and wees.
Me: (Very aware that there is another person in the stalls with us) Yes I know you did now hurry up and finish.
Miss K: But there were lots of them.
Me: That's great. Are you done yet?
Cue the toilet next to us flushing and a woman comes out laughing.
Woman: It's ok, I have kids too.
Me: The conversations you have once you're a parent.

We had a federal election in Australia this month, and my sister Natalie decided to vote for the first time.
Nat: I have no idea who any of these people are or what they want. I remember watching some political show at dad's once and they kept talking about a cabinet, but they never once showed a picture of it. I couldn't understand what was so amazing about a stupid cabinet that they felt the need to discuss it for so long. What is this cabinet?
Me: It's the group of politicians which make up parliament. And you are one the people deciding who runs our country for the next few years.  I worry about you sometimes.

Natalie was temporarily promoted to room leader at the daycare centre she works at this month, but the promotion did not come without issues, and one of her co-workers quit suddenly, saying that she couldn't work with Natalie because she stressed her out, and now she was constipated.

Nat: I don't understand what her problem is, I looked at the roster and I only spent 3 hours and 20 minutes a day with her.
Me: Well apparently that's long enough for you to constipate someone.
Nat: Yeah. You better not spend more time than that with me otherwise you'll start having problems too.

Luckily for Natalie her bosses were able to see the humor in the situation, but Nat now has the reputation of constipating those who work around her.

Well that's it from our crazy part of the world, be sure to visit all the other bloggers joining in today, and I'll be back to share more fun again soon.

June Fly on the Wall

Welcome to another month's instalment of Fly on the wall. Today nine bloggers have joined up to share some of the things you'd see if you were a fly on the wall in their home.


Below is a list of all the bloggers involved today, be sure to visit them all and share the love.

Baking In A Tornado 

Juicebox Confession                               

Menopausal Mother                                    

Spatulas on Parade                               

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy                                       

Southern Belle Charm                                            

Eileen’s Perpetually Busy      

Mum and I share drink making duties at home, alternating it so if one of us made the last round, the next round is made by the other one. One night it was my turn to make the drinks but I'd gotten side tracked looking at something on the internet. Mum found a bell on the table and started ringing it.
Me: Crap, it's my turn isn't it?
Mum: That's not what I meant, I was just about to say visiting hours were over, get out.

Nat complained to me several times during the month that she was feeling nauseous every single day. I gave her sympathy every single day until we had this conversation.
Nat: You know how I've been feeling sick for the last few days?
Me: Yeah
Nat: Well I figured out what was going on. Every night I make myself a ham sandwich for lunch, and then I was putting them ON TOP of the fridge until the next morning.
Me: Well no wonder you were getting sick you idiot. Hang on, I have to tell mum so she can laugh at you...

While helping Miss K get dressed
Me: I'm not sure this shirt is going to fit you. Nah it fits, but you might gape a bit at the front, those buttons are not forgiving at all. Welcome to the wonderful world of women's shirts kiddo.
Miss K (looks around) This is just your bedroom mum.

Me: Gee Miss K hates it when I turn Sesame Street into a dystopian society.
Mum: I can't understand why.

I was watching Jonathan Creek one weekend because I absolutely love that show and rarely get time to watch it. It's normally a fairly tame show, but I managed to find the one episode with two sex scenes in it on a day when Miss K was watching with me. It came to the first kissing scene and I began contemplating whether or not to just miss out and change the channel when Miss K piped up.

Miss K: They're kissing.
Me: I know. Ewww, she'll get boy germs.
Miss K: No she won't.
Me: Why not?
Miss K: Because boys don't have germs.
Me: YES THEY BLOODY DO!!!!!!!!!!

I can't believe she's on to me already. I honestly thought I had another year or so before I had to worry about this.

Kim and I were discussing television.
Kim: I love the food network, it's my favourite....party.
Me:...
Kim: I couldn't think of the word.
Me: Channel?
Kim: Oh yeah.

Miss K and I took the day off from our responsibilities on Wednesday and went to Melbourne for the day. We took a trip to the Melbourne Museum to see the dinosaur exhibit, but also stuck our head in on the human body exhibit because Miss K is obsessed with how the body works. There was even a display which explained digestion, with very graphic examples of everything from a plate of whole food, all the way down to a lump of poo at the end and a button which made fart noises. On the way home Miss K made a friend with another passenger on the train and we were discussing our trip to the museum with him.

Me: We saw all kinds of animals and insects at the museum today didn't we?
Miss K: Yeah, and a poo.
Me: Well yes, we saw that too.

The only photo I took in the whole museum. She freaked out when I showed her because it looks like the dinosaur is getting ready to eat her head.

Before we headed home we stopped in at the Pancake Parlour because I cannot go through Melbourne without going there at least once. Miss K had never been before so I was excited to introduce her to the most amazing pancakes in the world, however she only picked at hers and preferred to eat the ice cream on top instead. Recently we've been having issues with food and her, so I asked her if we needed to add pancakes to her list of no no foods.

Me: Do you not like pancakes anymore?
Miss K: No, I love pancakes.
Me: Did you just not like the ones they make at the restaurant?
Miss K: Yeah they were yucky. Your pancakes are the best.

So I'll be sure to add that to my Yelp review whenever I get around to it.

So I wrote in my last post that I was sending Miss K to her father's house this weekend despite her having a cold, but she decided I needed one more go of dealing with a sick child and vomited in the train on the way to handover the next morning. We were literally five minutes away from our stop at the time too, so I had to figure out whether it was more important to clean her up or find the conductor and let him know there was a slight mess on one of his seats (we caught most of it on our clothes, lucky us.) I decided Miss K needed cleaning up and went to the toilet only to find it already occupied by someone who spent ages in there, so we didn't even have time to clean up before we ran out of the train to make it to handover. But you'll be pleased to know I rang Miss K's dad while we were still on the train and told him to run to a clothing store to pick up clean clothes for Miss K, and I spoke to the staff at the station to let them know to get a message to the conductor on the train we had just left. I then took the next train home again smelling slightly sour, and ran straight to our local clothing store to replace the jumper I had left in the rubbish bin outside the train station. The joys of parenting.

Well that's all from me, I'm off to enjoy a child free weekend, and my enjoy I mean harass Miss K's dad with constant texts making sure she's getting better. He's been forewarned that this was happening so I have full permission to make a total pain in the ass of myself.

Yes I send my child for visitations while sick

Ah winter, the worst of all seasons. You bring with you frost on my car, numb fingers and noses, and all manner of nasty viruses, each one which will slowly convince you that this is the bug that will finally kill you.

Miss K is sick at the moment with a particularly nasty virus in her chest. I had it for three weeks, mum's on week two at the moment and Miss K is on day three. She currently sounds like a sixty year old man who has smoked a pack of cigarettes a day for the past forty years every time she coughs. I have an arsenal of pain killers and cough medicines in my pantry and every four hours I dutifully dole out the next dose of vile medicine much to her disgust. I'm sure she is convinced that my various treatments are going to kill her before the virus does.

But come tomorrow morning all of this stops. I dose my daughter up one last time, then I bundle her into a train and hand her over to her father for four days, during which time it officially becomes his duty to be chief snot remover and poison dispenser. Even before I was a single mother with my own custody agreement in place, this always seemed like the normal thing to do. You have a visitation scheduled, it happens unless a body part is falling off, and even then if it can be sewn back on in time the visit should still be able to happen. But my time working for a lawyer taught me that this isn't actually the case a lot of the time, and it doesn't seem right.

Now there is always a back story to every relationship, so I'm not saying that  my way is the only right way and everyone else who does this differently is an idiot, but I wonder what the mothers who do keep kids home sick from a custody visit are saying when they make this decision. Are you saying that there is no one in the world who could possibly care for your ailing child better than you can? Are you saying the father is totally inept at caring for house plants, let alone children and this virus is far too much of a challenge for him to be able to get right? Are you saying you secretly have Florence Nightingale syndrome and the highlight of your parenting career is the times your child is ill and you spend your nights sleepless and your days full of temperature taking and dosing up your children?

Miss K's dad can be a total screw up, a fact which I gently remind him of at any chance I get. But by withholding our child from visiting him simply because she is sick, I would be telling him loud and clear; "You are not good enough."and that is simply not a message I care to send to him or our daughter. I want her to know that when the chips are down he will be there for her, and that message needs to be sent from day one. Whether it be a virus or a bastard ex, she needs to know that her dad will be there for her no matter what.  On the other hand he needs to learn exactly what it means to be there for her when she needs it. He needs to get used to comforting her, wiping away her tears and making her feel better. Unless he has practise at doing this there is no way in hell he will ever be good at it. Now I'm not saying he sucks at it now, he is a very devoted dad who does everything in his power to love and care for our daughter. But as she gets older her needs change. Once upon a time all of her boo-boos could be kissed away but that's not the case so much. As parents we both need to be present for all of the changes otherwise we get left behind and stop being effective at our job.

As the primary caregiver I am the chief snot wiper and boo-boo kisser, and that is how it has been for over five years now. I've lost count of how many colds I have weathered, how many times I've caught vomit in my hands (or on my shirt) and how many cups of vile tasting medicine I have given over the past five years, nor do I care to count them. They are all just threads that make up the fabric of my life as Miss K's parent. But I am not her only parent, and because of this I am happy to step aside every now and again and let her dad take the reins for a few days and see what it means caring for someone who has half his genes. (Side note, they are the ones responsible for her total lack of inside voice). But because I am still mum, even when she's not in the same town as me I'll still be worried sick and totally unable to sleep this weekend, but that just goes with the territory.