A Likely Short-Lived Reprieve

It is the weekend. Usually I am trying to stop the kids from annoying each other or me, or trying not to get involved in their annoyances, or trying to do my own thing since they are old enough to only annoy each other rather than be in immediate danger. I could be doing any number of things but the boys are unnaturally quiet and yet, not up to no good. Rather than taking advantage, I am soaking up the quiet and lack of shenanigans, enjoying their creativity and independence. And did I mention it is quiet?? It won’t stay this way for long, i.e. quiet, independent or shenanigan-free, or innocent, for that matter.

The fire is on and we are all lulled into a false sense of little house on the prairie so I will be sure to watch for anyone edging too close to the hatchett we have for kindling, but so far, so good. I’ll be in a different frame of mind tomorrow when I try to get literally anything done in preparation for school, and shenanigans are likely in overblown mode, but for now I must enjoy this unnatural quiet, a meek mother in the midst of an urban myth.

Belinda Blinked

What would you do if your dad wrote a porno? My dad reads sci-fi, so, interplanetary boning? My book had limited details in the sex scenes and my mum was probably disappointed when she read it, but I digress.

I heard about a podcast called My Dad Wrote A Porno. It’s a few years old and has it’s own comedy special on HBO. It’s the funniest thing ever. It’s based on a novella called Belinda Blinked, written by (pen name) Rocky Flintstone, and Rocky’s son reads a chapter per episode to his friends. Wow.

I recommend caution when listening and operating heavy machinery, specifically driving or doing anything, really, with your eyes open. I think I strained a tendon or some fascia or something, on the back of my skull from grinning so much. Enjoy.

New Year, Who Dis?

Its 2019, but I still remember when I had trouble remembering to write 1988 because I was stuck in 1987. That must have been grade 4, or thereabouts. Today I am in grade turning 40.

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Grown up but not mature.

I had a great year, highs and lows, of course. I wrote a list because I couldn’t remember shit all that I had done for the last 8 months of the year and it was a good list, personal achievements and lots of time with family and friends.

We have our new years resolutions figured out – nothing too serious but mostly about being serious about shit that needs to get done, as per usual. So I have spent the last few hours “getting organized” for being organized and that has taken me through to afternoon tea time, so …

The boys have another 1000 miles of cycling on their goals, as well as personal Goodreads challenges. I’m not going to set a bigger reading goal because the house is generally a bit of a mess, so I shouldn’t add more reasons not to do housework to my life, but I am also keeping the 1000 mile goal, which should get me out of the housework 2-3 times per week. Laundry can suck it!

So turning 40 this year means finally growing up, I guess…? I mean more than having kids and paying bills and driving a car with insurance. It probably means playing more of Cards Against Humanity, actually. We did that with friends last night and it was a great way to ring in the new year.

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What would CAH say about turning 40? Probably something about shitting in a bucket. Welp, there’s a first time for everything.

Happy new year!

Back To School

Today is the second day after the first day of school, so I’m (we’re all??) on a come-down from the giddy celebrations of handing my kids over to professionals for the next few months, or until the next public holiday.

It’s almost like a hangover because I’m focusing on how much water I’m drinking and if I can squeeze in a nap. But it wasn’t any old party yesterday, it was something we’ve looked forward to (and sure, I enjoyed 85% of those kid-filled days) for three whole months. It had pride of place on the social calendar and everyone had a particular outfit to wear, even special shoes, in some cases.

Disclaimer: I’ve never been to a rave BUT! yesterday was like a parenting rave, and here’s why:

✔You don’t know everyone but you smile anyway.

✔Everyone is in a good mood.

✔People ask for directions outside the actual event.

✔ You eat something to be polite, even though you might not know what it is.

✔ You feel like dancing all of a sudden.

✔You love everyone you see and feel like telling them.

✔ You lose the people you came in with.

✔You make new friends and probably invite them to your house.

✔Not always sure where the bathrooms are or if they’re miniature or just look small.

Basically I’m down for a rave. Hit me up, after we’ve finished helping with the homework.

Why Is It Always Me

I could have said “turn off the tv and let’s get to work” instead of losing my shit. But honestly, after taking the kids to a concert they wanted to see and people sleeping in, I don’t think it’s about them being tired. I slept in, I don’t feel tired.

We were gardening until it was just me because “this is hard work” and boo friggedy hoo and similar excuses.

It’s not just me. Of course, it’s partly me but I’m not a slave. It’s not my job to keep the house super tidy. We all make a mess, we’re all busy, we all clean it up. I’ve got fun ideas but if people are just laying around then they can piss up a rope if they think I’m doing all the prep and they get all the fun. I’m a person, not a pack-horse. I’m also a raving lunatic but guess who made me that way.

Survival Camp

Surely 3 months *is* Survival Camp? Three whole months of school holidays. Sheesh.

Last week was Music Camp since the boys performed in Make Music Day (international day of free musical performances on the streets of participating towns). They came, they rocked, they got tips!

At home we have a varied “curriculum” for the summer and this week is Survival Camp. If we make it through (spoiler: trying to light a fire had us at each other’s throats) we can write, sew, bike and film our way to September.

Survival Camp follows on from an emergency consultation we had at home over the weekend. Bottom line: we need more prep but we’re on the right track, that didn’t stop me panic-shopping the next day, though.

Last night was the first night – started fine but it ended up a bit rough. There was a full moon, I think, because it was light when I opened my eyes but it was only 2.15, and then 3.15, and 5.25 and 6 something. The kids all talk in their sleep and it’s super convincing! The inside of the tent was soaked from monkey breath and we couldn’t light a fire for breakfast ir lunch. We have a flint to make sparks but nothing wants to start a flame. 9yo was under the impression one or two sparks would have us roasting our dinner… At least with eventual matches, we could boil water.

We’ve been hiking, wood-collecting, foraging and did some knots for an additional shelter. We did go back to the house for water and the hammock, but refrained from the oreos and chips in the spirit of it all.

We’re hoping to fashion our own arrows and try our hand at a snare but it’s all a bit daunting since the fire illuded us for so long. I’ve got a solar charger and am cutting my losses but survival is survival, right??

I Can Hardly Bear It.

We’re camping this long weekend and you know how I feel about that. But Husband bought me a new sleeping bag, so things are looking up.

The weather is gorgeous and we did some gardening this morning. After some chores and fighting, we’re hanging out down here and thinking about the tent, even tho the eldest kid is mostly a real fucking shit today and I’m reconsidering everything. Anyhoo. After gardening and listening to the kids fuck about, I remembered to look up images of animal scat, AKA shit, as you do, and it turns out we have one big motherfucker shitting in our yard some of the time, maybe a stag but also maybe a fucking black bear. I’m sorry, what? What? What the fuck? I’m not going to put in the turd pictures but you get the idea.

Anyhoo, black bears are cool, or so I hear. Actually, I have heard nothing for the last 6 six years that we’ve lived here, so, cool, I guess… Anyhoo, bells and whistles (and bear spray) all ’round, I guess.

To the rescue