We clean.

We wipe. (you know)

We tend.

We plan.

We chauffeur.

We bake.

We shop.

We dress.

We organize.

We negotiate peace.

We broker equal equity partners in toy related disputes.

We cook again.

We clean again.

We contemplate an investment in more rustic furniture in order to cope.

We wipe again.

We tend again.

We plan, again.

We chauffeur, again and again and again.

We bake again.

We re-organize.

We negotiate peace again.

We put our own hopes and dreams aside

and then…

We are not listened to, we are pointedly ignored, we are manipulated, we are yelled at, we have our sleep disturbed every night of forever, we are complained to, we have our new recipes scoffed at (even if they’re great), we are screamed at, we are flailed and tantrummed at, we are considered the ‘boring‘ parent. We are about as preferable to travel with on the morning school run as the bogeyman, and any attempts to be put in our car are met with more resistance than was present in western europe during WW II.

Yet, our capacity to love them is never diminished.

WTF.

Possibly Related Posts:

• The Birthday Boy
• Of Cupcakes and Light Sabres
• Sing, My Angel of Music!
• Why It Sometimes Sucks to be A Girl.
• You Are the Sunshine of My Life

Eff-Eye-Vee-Ee.

Five.

5.

No matter which way I say it, spell it, say it in another language, it really PUNCHES me in the gut to think about it.

Not in a bad way.

More like in  a OMGHOWDIDTHISHAPPENSOFAST kind of way.

You know what I mean?

It’s such a round number for me. I know that theoretically speaking that it’s an ‘odd’ number (yeah, you math nazi’s), but to me it’s still a round number. I’m sure that when he turns ten, I will be twice as freaked out.

I have so many pictures that I’m dying to blog, and I will share these over the course of the coming week, but for now, here is one of the cupcakes that I ordered for him to take to school on his special day.

These were made by the sister of the great cupcake maker extraordinaire for whom I did a custom blog design a little while ago. Clearly great cupcakes run in that family! They were a huge hit at Skip’s school too, and I was asked for her number more than once.

So, what do you get for a boy who is turning 5? It turned out to be much easier than getting something for a boy who is two. By the time they’re 5 they’re able to tell you exactly what they want. Every.Time. You. Go. Shopping.

The biggest hit?

Was this number…

A light sabre. That swooshes up and on, lights up and makes all the appropriate BBBBGGGGGGRRRRRRSHHHHZZZZZZZ noises as it’s waved around.

A very, Very, Happy, Happy 5 year old boy lives here.

Since we wanted him to enjoy his lightsabre even more, we bought a cheaper ‘no-frills/lights/noises’ version for his 2 year old brother, who bizarrely new exactly what to do with it, and wasn’t bothered by the fact that his green version didn’t light up or make noises and he simply made the correct noises with his cute little voice.

Yeah nothing like a bringing a little galactic law and order into the house eh?

Speaking of which we also got Skip this…

The DVD because it was a classic Disney one, and the Wii Sports resort thingy, because well, it works well for the whole family.

I’m actually toying with the idea of getting a projector. Having read some projector reviews, I’m intrigued by the idea of getting one, rather than a new fanshmangled TV, because it’s portable, can be projected onto a screen or frankly, our blank white wall in the lounge, and would really blow ‘family game night’ into the next dimension. Plus, projectors are portable so we could simply take it with us when we move overseas, rather than hassling to sell a big TV instead. (We have no intention of shipping a big container, but will rather buy new stuff when we get there.

Do any of you have any experience with home projectors? Do you find that they are a good purchase? Or does the novelty wear off and they gather dust after awhile? I seem to think that the hubby would enjoy watching sport using it, and of course the idea of Bond, Star Wars or LOTR or Twilight Marathons using a ‘big screen’ really appeals to me.

Anyhoo, off to edit some more photos so that they are bloggable (edit – as in re-size and watermark) so I can show you some more photos of my child-who-must-stop-growing-so-damn-fast, some of his other gifts, *and* some cool kids clothes purchases I made this week that I want to share.

Catch you all later!

Possibly Related Posts:

• Enough with the Questions
• Stop the Blogs! (Presses!)
• Motherhood: Join if you’d like to feel unappreciated ad infinitum.
• The Birthday Boy
• Sing, My Angel of Music!

Instead I talk about work, I talk about guys, I talk about marriage issues.

Daily rhubarb.

Yanno?

Just look at the cuteness factor here.

I am by nature, the kind of person who seeks silver linings everywhere. I don’t think that this blog has been reflecting that lately, but that is who I am for most of my day to day life.

I think big, dream big, grab the proverbial bull by the horns and ride that sucker all the way to the barn.

Sure I don’t like the place that I live, but since I am still here, I do in fact make the most of what I have.

The sunshine. (Let’s ignore for the moment that I have the fan heater directed on my feet right now and my fingers are struggling to type from the cold )

My kids awesome school.

My health.

The roof over our heads.

The fact that we have enough money in the bank to buy food (though really, what is UP with the price of stuff these days, sheesh!?) and most of the other things that we need.

To happily give up the master bedroom and move our queen size bed into the kids room so that we could dismantle their bunk beds, put them both at ground level and give them a much larger playing area (and the en-suite bathroom).

It gives me great pleasure to see in my sons, their overwhelming sense of JOY and gratitude at receiving new bedding. Not computer games or toys. Bedding.

Skip threw himself onto his new Ben 10 duvet cover set and wrapped himself into the matching fleece blanket with the BIGGEST grin I’ve seen on his face in weeks.

Flip ran to his own bed and pointed excitedly, “Yook Mommy! Woody! Buzz! Wow!” at his new Toy Story 3 set and fleece.

Often as parents we see behaviour in our kids that we’d rather not. Tantrums. Tempers. Stomping and Pouting. Ungratefulness. Only to have them take you completely by surprise and let the simple joy of new bedding make your heart want to burst with pride.

It is insane how much I love them.

Everything I do, is for them.

Yes, of course I work hard for me, for our family unit, to develop my own career. That’s a given.

But when I have those moments where I’d really rather sit on the couch, and watch some mindless DIY show (Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen I miss you!), their little faces swim into focus and my motivation is renewed once more.

Where would I be without these two little souls in my life? (Yeah, I know, rich, thin and probably on a cruise ship somewhere!)

Hah. But you know what? If I was just ‘rich thin and on a cruise ship somewhere’ I’d probably be looking at the frumpy mummy with her three kids and 3 inch roots and be envying her.

Life is funny that way.

Incidentally, speaking of roots, I decided to go blonde again after nearly a year of auburny-dark blonde-light brownishness.

Plus the stylist used the ghd styling iron on me, and oh my god I have never coveted a hair styling tool so much in my life.

Might get the MIL to send me one from the UK. Either way, when I got home and looked in the mirror again, I realised one thing…aside from the weight issues, aside from the lack of wardrobe selection, aside from all the *things* that *could be* …

…

Right now, I am happy to be me.

That, my friends, is what they call a silver lining.

Possibly Related Posts:

• Stop the Blogs! (Presses!)
• Relying on People
• Motherhood: Join if you’d like to feel unappreciated ad infinitum.
• The Birthday Boy
• Of Cupcakes and Light Sabres

It’s been a bit crazy actually. A situation for which I naturally blame my hubby.  (of course, if we can’t blame our husbands for these things, then who can we blame?).

Follow my thinking for a second here… If he hadn’t insisted on having his laptop in MY office, this would never have happened. It’s like he doesn’t accept that my business has to take over a whole (albeit tiny) bedroom in our home.

NO. It has to be OUR office. He has to have space on MY desk for HIS laptop.

Now, since he’s not here during the day, that shouldn’t be a problem, since I usually link up his laptop to the scanner and then use it as part of my routine when I’m working, so that I can have the printer attached to my computer. It’s not an ideal situation, but it works. At least my desk is a door that I’ve put on trestles (and painted white) so it’s larger than normal.

However, hubby’s laptop also has the big external hard drive attached which has all the kids movies, and our favorites backed up on it, so the kids have become accustomed to “daddy’s putah” being the home entertainment station. Because yeah, dstv pretty much doesn’t have enough stuff on it (insert your preferred level of sarcasm here).

So now, I get interrupted 100x more than normal, by the kids trying to watch something on daddy’s laptop, Skip wanting to use MS Paint on the laptop, begging me to print out various pictures that he makes, one of them needing help getting onto daddy’s office chair (which is in the way anyway) then having the other one hanging off me, trying to get onto my lap to watch whatever the other one is doing, or begging me to do farmville or cafe world or frontierville or in fact anything vaguely entertaining for them. This would normally only be an issue if they were off school, because naturally when they’re normally home on weekends we’re either out doing stuff, or they’re being cute and cuddly with daddy.

BUT since the Soccer World Cup is on, and Daddy has made it his mission to watch every single game on TV aside from the two that he is getting to watch live (England vs Algeria tonight, and one of the quarterfinals as well), the kids are now bugging me during the time I would normally go into my sanctuary, close the door and work like blazers as well.

So what happens is Dad is out in the lounge hogging the television or generally just suffering from uncommunicative male with remote syndrome, and I’m STILL not able to be as productive as I’d like to be.

In fact the only reason I’m getting this blog post out right now is because the kids are fighting over the little airport that has this arm that lifts up the little propeller plane flies it at varying heights around the control tower and then lowers it again.

Yesterday I decided it had been far to long since I picked up my camera, and took some photos of Skip and Flip, who were being a bit moody with me and not their usual smiley, posey selves.

As you will see from these pics that I took.

Skips mood is quite obvious, and it led me to process the photos in black and white, and add noise to increase the sense of drama!

Flip was sitting in his little leather armchair that we bought for them both (they each have their own) and the way he was lounging in it reminded me that one day too, he will probably suffer from uncommunicative male with remote syndrome, but for now he is still unbearably cute, even if we’d reached the scary part in “Nemo” as you will see from his slightly concerned expression.

Skip on the other hand is looking livid that I’m *forcing* him to watch something he’s seen more than 100x rather than letting him watch Ben X, which is of course, on ‘daddy’s putah’.

I’m writing this to you, with the sounds of that squirrel in Ice Age 3 struggling to hold onto his beloved acorn…

Yes, my kids are watching too much TV.

It’s the school holidays.

SUE ME.

Okay, now I feel bad.

Just so that you know I’m not totally ditching them to that great babysitter in a box, here’s some proof that we actually take them out regardless of the weather, for some great exercise. (though I suspect this was the start of Flips “le nasale snotay”)

One more thing!

I did a post over at my other blog, about why the brand new released Apple Mac Mini is perfect for my mom! Head over there if you’re interested!

Possibly Related Posts:

• Oh Camera My Camera
• When Fake is Better
• Stop the Blogs! (Presses!)
• On the Flip Side
• Must.Keep.Eyes.Open.

Wowzer, it’s just that I feel like I have reached my limit on so many fronts. Right now as I’m typing this I have a 2yr old screaming blue m*rder at my feet kicking the legs of my desk (and no I will NOT give him attention while he’s doing it because any attention – even to tell him to stop it, is attention, so he wins), the husband is feigning deafness in front of the TV watching SA vs Wales Rugby (thanks darling and I’m only about 5 days behind on my work and your support is so thoughtful) and the 4yr old is whining that I’m not helping me build an airport for him.

I’m almost willing to try for a third child, just to try and even out the male/female ration in this household.  But the threat of creating a fourth male and the ensuing testosterone booster that that would mean for the other three…oy vey…

On the plus side, the kiddos are getting so much better, Skip is almost completely over his tonsilitis and Flip had a physio appointment for his pneumonia recovery and the physio said that she couldn’t hear any more phlegm on his chest, so it looks as though he is over the worst now.

I’m trying to find a way to a) have some kid free time and b) catch up on work. If I worked in an office this would be easy, since I’d just bugger off to the office when I needed to, but this office at home, comes with two complimentary (sweet when they want to be) little boys, whose sole aim in life right now, is to annoy one another

Maybe I’ll try and sneak off to a movie tomorrow, any suggestions as to what I should go see?  I wish Eclipse was on already.

Possibly Related Posts:

• Oh Camera My Camera
• When Fake is Better
• About as noticed as a doorknob.
• Stop the Blogs! (Presses!)
• On the Flip Side

4 scant hours of sleep will do that to you.

Flip is still coughing up a lung (or at the very least sounding like that is his primary goal in life right now).

Hubby stayed home a bit later than usual this morning, giving me the time to fetch the housekeeper from the bus terminus and then drop her off at home and then shoot to the pharmacy with a prescription the length of my arm, for everything but acne medication, or so it would seem. I can’t help wondering if we shouldn’t have maybe made a trip to see my hot pediatrician (yes Mel, I know he’s older but still, there’s that whole ‘saves my kids lives’ complex that I have to deal with) so that he could have made a better assessment of Flips current issues. Oh well, I suppose that I will try the stuff the ER doc prescribed and see within three days if it works or not, otherwise it’s off to the pediatrician we go.

Possibly Related Posts:

• Motherhood: Join if you’d like to feel unappreciated ad infinitum.
• The Birthday Boy
• Of Cupcakes and Light Sabres
• Sing, My Angel of Music!
• Why It Sometimes Sucks to be A Girl.

Last night he managed to settle between 11pm-ish and about 3am-ish. But tonight we have not slept a wink yet, and when he started crying out “ow! Ow!” In the sweetest but most desperate little cry after each cough, I fixed the hubby with my most determind “get your butt into clothes and off to see a doctor” stare and he magically decided that this course of action would be best.

I know him well enough to know that had I suggested it, he would have pooh-poohed the idea immediately and told me I am overreacting. So…hah…I win.

So, naturally now, instead of trying to garner a few hours of precious sleep, I am in fact rather blogging about my telepathic prowess.

But I suppose I’d better turn in now before my body clock stays on these shorter martian nights for ever…

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

Possibly Related Posts:

• Motherhood: Join if you’d like to feel unappreciated ad infinitum.
• The Birthday Boy
• Of Cupcakes and Light Sabres
• Sing, My Angel of Music!
• Why It Sometimes Sucks to be A Girl.

I would normally have been the one to take Skip, but I am under docs orders not to do any awkward lifting (like carrying a flopping gangly half asleep nearly 5 year old child) on account of the fact that I developed a small hernia after shifting stuff when we were moving.

We really have had a good long run without illness in the family, and given the small exclusive nature of Skips school, it has meant him staying healthier than last year at his old school.

Right, off to wait to hear what the doc says…

Possibly Related Posts:

• Stop the Blogs! (Presses!)
• Motherhood: Join if you’d like to feel unappreciated ad infinitum.
• The Birthday Boy
• Of Cupcakes and Light Sabres
• Sing, My Angel of Music!

Most of the time it’s rather one-sided seeing as my husband has been working ridiculous hours coming home long after the kids are in bed.  I do know for sure that he is working, I have no doubts on that score, fidelity is not even remotely being called into question here.

The battle lines are being drawn about ‘stuff around the house’. Hubby feels like he has carte blanche to work the hours he needs to (without discussing it with me) because he’s the major breadwinner (at the moment). I get this completely, and I am 100 % supportive. The only time I whine about stuff, is when he says “I’m on my way home now” and then spends another 2 hours at the office finishing off a document etc. My expectations are being raised and then disappointed – hence the whining. If he tells me, “this week is going to be tough” then I am prepared for it.

He gets to go to his very stressful corporate job, after dropping one of the kiddos at school, and then shut out the rest of his life completely and get on with his job. I’m pretty sure there are some other WAHMs out there who will agree with me, that this sounds like a freakin’ luxury to me. Now I know that stress isn’t luxurious by any means, and I’m sure that the hubby has his fair share of stress, and interruptions and what not, but still, he doesn’t have to spend even 0.00023 nano seconds worrying about managing his time, so that he can:

• remember to shop for the birthday present for Child A’s party this weekend (and remember wrapping paper and extra sellotape)
• know the exact contents of the fridge and how long these items will keep the family fed, and which meals are going to be prepared and when
• do the dishes, and remember to ring the dishwasher repair guy to hurry up on the quote to fix the damn dishwasher
• remember to go to the pharmacy because the brilliant saline nosedrops for the kids ran out last night and it’s flu season. (the drops keeps the runny noses from developing into month long chesty coughs)
• do the laundry, in between running errands to the grocery store, the school run, the extra murals, and oh yes, BUILD A CAREER

I feel, largely, at the moment, that because I’m doing the evening routine with the kids SOLO 99.9% of the time, that he should be helpful in the morning, by making the kids lunches, getting them dressed (they’re very cooperative – it’s not difficult), yet I still get up sometimes 90 minutes earlier than him, TO WORK.

Then I wake him with freshly brewed coffee. However, he then expects ME to help him with the kids and says “You’re just sitting at your computer, can’t you help me or something?” – in an irritated tone. Which makes me want to LOSE-MY-FREAKIN’-SHIT.

I am so, so SO sick and tired of being swept aside as unimportant, to be made to feel that my needs are somehow less pressing than his. That his job should rule all our lives and that we are at the constant mercy of his schedule, and that he doesn’t compensate for this by either getting up a bit earlier to lessen the stress on everyone. As it is, he comes home and is usually in bed a good 1-2 hours before me too. Shame. So stressed out. Poor poor hubby. I’m sorry for the sarcastic tone here, because damnit, I *don’t* know the stress of dealing with billion dollar deals and the volatility of the international marketplace and yadda yadda. But I DO know the stress of trying to keep four lives running smoothly, singlehandedly, all whilst trying to find the time to build my own career, see to my own clients, and have some kind of life for myself. I do not want to be someone who is completely taken care of financially, I *want* to earn my own money, because I don’t like anyone trying to tell me what to do with MY money.  I do think that on the whole women are starting to realise that dependence on a guy is a very precarious thing, and this is why we see so many women starting their own businesses and doin’ it for themselves. (wiggles hips and sings song by Destiny’s Child)…all the momma’s who earn the dollars, show your hands up at me, all the hunnies makin’ money, show your hands up at me.

Anyway, so this morning we had a rather large argument, about who does more. I hate arguing. Like really. Especially when it gets so heated. Incidentally, I refuse to argue in front of my kids, as in I will completely ignore the other guilty party and shut my ears if they dare and try to continue arguing in front of the kids and I will only engage the kids in conversation, and goof around with them, until they are busy in another room absorbed in another activity. I realise that no arguing is ever healthy, but I do try to minimize the impact on the kids.  As long as they see us apologizing to one another later, I actually think that it can be a a good thing. i.e. an argument doesn’t have to mean it’s the end of everything, everytime.

What I also hate is when one party doesn’t play fair. When I argue, I don’t raise my voice, I go for the logical debate, and of course, the other party being male and not half as mature as me, goes for the low road, the name-calling, the raised voice and frankly, the ‘dredging up the past’ routine, that makes me SO unbelievably tired.

So, we had a big argument this morning. It was the same old same old. He wanted help with the kids, and I wanted to take a bath and get ready after having gotten up at 5am to work till 6h30 (after having done the evening routine alone last night again), then woken him with coffee at 6h30 at which point he was huffing and puffing and asking for help with the kids, and saying that I was being unfair and slacking off as a mother…and after all he was so tired and stressed and well you know the rest.

So we parted on rather silent terms.

Then about an hour later, after having had my breathing space, as usual, I began to see the bigger picture, something that I despair of him ever getting sight of, and I decided that I was going to do something nice for him. Nothing like fighting fire with water eh?

So, I went and bought one of those stainless steel travel mugs, made soup at home and filled it. Made hot buttered toast cut into strips and wrapped in foil to keep warm. I also added a tupperware with two sections, filled one half with croutons, and the other with a dollop of sour cream. I added a plastic spoon, some paper napkins, packed the whole lot in a thermal bag to keep it warm and went and delivered it to his work. I just dropped it at reception, asked them to tell him it was there, and left.

Call me a sucker, call me weak, call me stupid for letting him be ‘rewarded’ for bad behaviour. I call it the fucking high road.

Plus, my phone has been ringing off the hook for the last hour, and gosh would you look at that, I’m too busy to answer.

_______

Updated to add: He got home *BEFORE* me, at 16h30 on a Friday afternoon, and he’d brought fish and chips!! Yay! We have at least achieved detente!

Possibly Related Posts:

• My Name is Earl
• About as noticed as a doorknob.
• Motherhood: Join if you’d like to feel unappreciated ad infinitum.
• The Birthday Boy
• Of Cupcakes and Light Sabres

Now since we’re doting parents and are keen to become involved in his school, we decided to go. Needless to say, as a freelancer, my usual daily attire consists of a) pjamas until I am required to leave the house or b) clothing that is just about tidy enough to leave the house with.  So since this fit into the category of ‘make an effort’ I decided to go with option c) pull finger, and dress smartly. I mean moisturizing day cream was applied under the foundation, make-up, HEELS, the works people.

So off we dutifully trot to the assembly hall, the headmaster from the highschool (Skippy’s school is an independent international school where the grades go from nursery right through to International Baccalaureate), comes over and introduces himself etc.

The assembly reminded me vividly of my own high school experience, they even sang a hymn that I was familiar with from the old chapel school days.

Then they announced the stars of the week, and yes, you guessed it, our little snooky-wooky-dums was IT.

They pick a few kids every week, call them up on stage, and congratulate them (by the headmaster of the highschool section) and then name the reason why they were chosen.

I just about burst with pride and jolly nearly lost it when I heard my husband try and muffle a sniff behind me. Thank goodness I had used my mummy’s intuition and had brought my camera, so that I could capture the moment. Skip was honoured for “being a good friend to everyone, across the age spectrum, and with both boys and girls.”

I proceeded to spatter the walls of the auditorium with my insides, such was the force of my pride.

Now if I could just get him to be nice to his own brother…

But no, I don’t want to take anything away from his special moment, and I definitely think that dinner out is in order this evening because then he gets a nice reward, and of course, it means I dont have to cook or wash dishes. Win-win.

On my way home (back to my favourite grindstone) I came across this scene.

Ya-hah. Totally.

Not kidding. I was driving back from Skip’s school, took a right turn, got out my car and snapped this shot.  Strue! What you don’t see, in this picture, which of course I have kept out of the shot on purpose, is the fence, that I shot through, the wine farm in the background on the other side of the hill, or any other perfectly normal suburban things.  I haven’t photoshopped them out or anything, the picture is genuine from that perspective, I’ve just been selective in my framing.

So how cool is THAT?

Here’s another one, using some photoshop magic, just because I feel like it:  Eat your heart out PW, we haz a wildabeezts! (I’m just kidding, love ya!)

Possibly Related Posts:

• On the Flip Side
• Benefits
• Motherhood: Join if you’d like to feel unappreciated ad infinitum.
• Of Cupcakes and Light Sabres
• You Are the Sunshine of My Life