thought overload

Posts tagged ‘fun’

Did you say snake?

There has been a lot happening here over the last month, namely me trying to finish my last two units of study for my first year at university. It seems I have a new study partner too.

The man of the house has wanted a snake forever and I have emphatically protested against this, even threatening to move out. However, the snake has moved in and I am still here.

Thing is, this snake has taken a liking to me. Meet Cassiopeia, the Coastal Carpet Python who, at any given chance, likes to make a bee-line for me, my lap-top and my books. Her latest trick is to become my new hair accessory.

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Nice to be back 🙂

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Rainy days reconsidered

I have always dreaded rainy days. They make me miserable and I feel trapped. The January floods of 2011 even gave me  a reason to fear them.

Today, rainy days have been given a facelift via my children who are complete and utter nutters and my family as a whole, who are extremely supportive. I’m so very grateful and proud.

I set up my laptop this afternoon in the family area, among all the chaos and noise, to get a bird’s-eye view of the hilarity that was unfolding. My line of sight directed to the upstairs hallway and storage cupboard . The dress-ups are located in there. Rather than pull the box out, The Princess stepped inside and all I could see was a hand extending from the open door to Master 6, who was attempting to don all manner of clothing items. Considering the day’s entertainment began with Master 6 in nothing but boxer shorts, a pink maiden’s headdress and a fake beard, I knew it was going to be a cracker of a day. I watched him as he looked down at me giggling uncontrollably, looking like a fractured fairytale version of one of Snow White’s Seven Dwarfs. He attempted to drag the rest of the princess costume over his head, losing the beard and the headdress. It was like watching a butterfly emerging from a cocoon on video, except with someone continually pressing reverse, fast forward and pause. There was dancing and singing  including a final fashion parade. The Princess wearing a left over witches costume from Halloween and Master 6 as The Princess, complete with ‘fake boobs’ he described as really ‘soft and squishy’. No gender stereotyping here thank you very much. The Princess then chased Master 6 through the house demanding that he give her back her boobs (socks). I am so very glad that no neighbours decided to visit at that time, although I did notice there was a bag of cookies left by the front door from the elderly next-door neighbour who did not knock. Oh dear, I figure, he’s lived next door to us for this long that nothing should surprise him.

English: Half a dozen home-made cookies. Ingre...

(Image via Wikipedia) A bit like these...only...gone.

The ‘bag’ of cookies turned out to be several bags of home-made cookies; peanut butter, chocolate chip, jam drops, almond/coffee and Anzacs. I would have taken a photo of this lot sitting on the couch eating from their individual bags but the cookies didn’t last long enough. The memory is also sweeter in my mind. I looked at Master 6 incredulously who had almost devoured his bag while in full Princess regalia and he said, ‘What’s so funny?’ Indeed.

Bieber managed to appear at the most opportune time – he smelled food. The Princess and her father made Potato Scallops for lunch as I read out a recipe I found online, switching back and forth between it and study. They were really good and much appreciated on this dismal day. I even got ice cream in a waffle cone. I don’t know, some days the food just appears at my desk.Bieber made me a coffee before he disappeared back upstairs to his land of ’12 year old boy’.

Master 6, finally de-Princessed, decided he would sit on top of me and not next to me. I love a 6 years old’s lack of spatial awareness which is still developing and will one day make sure he doesn’t sit ANYWHERE near me. The boy looked rather Dr Octagonapusish attached to wires and metal which I realised was actually earphones and Bieber’s mobile phone. This, and the fact he was riveted to a show on TV meant he sat on me. The phone? Probably a bribe from Bieber to get peace and quiet.

Red has been away visiting his girlfriend all weekend up in North Queensland. On his arrival he did text me. Did I really not text back ALL weekend? Yep. Terrible mother. This is the text I received from his this evening:

Umm well seeing you don’t even miss me I have decided to join the monastery up here…You and the rest of the family will always be in my mind. But I seek enlightenment now…’

The Princess intercepted this text and came downstairs to tell me that Red was not coming back, he’d joined a monastery. Huh? This is my text back to Red:

‘I thought that I would practise being a NAM (new age mother) where my progeny are free to spread their wings without my constant over-shadowing. That, and the fact that my iPhone is not my own (read: The Princess monopolises it). I got your message that you are safe and that’s all that matters to me. The knowledge of where you are is enough to satisfy even my most outrageous parenting concerns. The Princess filtered your text before I read it thus: Red isn’t coming home, he’s joined the monastery. Good luck with that. Your lovely mother xxx

This is the text I got back (from the girlfriend):

‘I love you mummy xxx Also, I kept your son safe from the scaries 🙂

Not from the scaries here though. I love these.

The Queensland summer provides plenty of these shots

Opening up a can of worms and expanding the family language

French Kissin (song)

Image via Wikipedia

I love playing with my children. It is one of the true joys in my life and a never-ending source of entertainment that adds to our family language. Wait. What? Yes, our family language. I’ll explain.

Every family has a language of their own. It might be silly phrases that eventuate from, well, acting silly. It might consist of pet names that you have for each other. It might also be nonsense songs that are made up. Whatever it is, it is yours and no one outside the family would understand it because it just wouldn’t be the same if you had to explain it and the weird looks you would get trying to explain it, well, enough said.

My sisters once made up a song after their adventures with a flat tyre and trying to find one in a small country town on their way to visit me. It was to the tune of  ‘Old Susannah’. The chorus went a little like this:

‘Oh Daniella, now don’t you cry for me, for I come from Cooranbong with a spare tyre on my knee’. It had verse upon verse that they sang to me to explain their late arrival.

When Red was little, my sister made up a little verse for him which she would say to him every time she saw him…’I love you more… than the whole wide world…and back again!” he still remembers it at 19 along with the fact that he used to call the moon…’the mooin’. That we remind him of.

Our family language has evolved and developed from the jokes, songs, games, nonsense play and general goofing off that began when our young brood were old enough to talk. You need a well rounded sense of humour in this house to fit in and the children are no exception.

Bieber used to get called Chubba on account of his bright red, chubby cheeks as a baby and it just kind of stuck. My mother extended that to Chubba-lubba. The Princess was called Chloe goat legs when she was three. Her father somehow extended that to Goatisha and then to Tisha Boots, which she hated and demanded he stop. Dizzy Lizzy had that name when I met her father, bestowed upon her by her Uncle. She also got Lidbet which became Squidbet then just Squid for short. Red was always Joshie then Doshie (because Master 6 couldn’t say ‘j’) then Yoshie. He also got Joshskewer which was a take on the pronunciation of Joshua also bestowed upon him by the aforementioned Uncle. I have been known as The Dragon Lady but I ignore that one in the hopes that it will go away.

Last night, as I played with Master 6, we revisited some of the silly things that were said when he was a baby and a toddler. Some he even remembered. Some, I am still hanging on to which I know will change as he outgrows it. Like Tooty-Kissin’.

Tooty-Kissin’  has been a huge favourite with our children since they were babies and Master 6 is the last of the Tootie-Kissees. I would just grab his foot when he wasn’t looking and give it a great big kiss much to his delight and giggles. He tells me he is a big boy now and that I don’t have to tuck him in at night. I am not allowed to walk him to his classroom. Too old for that too. Apparently he is not too old for Tootie-Kissin’. We even have a song, made up to the tune of the Deborah Harry hit ‘French Kissin’ in the USA’. I sang that to him last night as we laughed and tickled each other, each trying to get the better of the other. Suddenly, Master 6 stopped. Where did you get that song from Mum? he asked. I told him about its origin and sang the line of the original. Ohhhhh, he said and laughed. Pause. What does French-kissing mean Mum?

Can of worms. Opened. I asked for that.

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