I thought I’d sneak off for a little break this afternoon. I headed to my bedroom but was assailed by the laundry there, waiting and waiting and waiting for days on end (possibly 7 of them) to be sorted, folded and put “away”. Ho hum. Husband ‘helped me put his clothes away’, ha. Then I thought I would put the other laundry out of its misery, the unsorted, unwashed, unloved laundry that had also, quite possibly, been waiting 7 days to be taken care of. If someone took that kind of care of me, it would mean I had paid large sums of money to stay in some sort of spa resort.
I do actually have plans to go away, not to a resort, though, boo! Two years ago I arranged a night (oh boy, was it only one night? I can’t even remember) away from all and sundry. I am arranging another stay away early in the new year, because I deserve it, damn it! No big dollar costs, though, at least, not all at once. I will be going for a mid-range hotel with complimentary breakfast and wi-fi, because I feel guilty spending lots of money, so I go for medium amounts of money more often. I’m sure it works out to be about the same, but that’s how my brain works. On the other hand, by going mid-range hotel, I can do ALL the things I would love to do, instead of only some of them. I think there is even an opening night of an opera while I will be in town, awesome! Add in some high tea, a museum or two and perchance some new body art, it will be a great holiday. Because family holidays are still work, which is why the photos from family holidays – even exotic European ones – are filled with kids pulling faces and parents guzzling wine, rather than smiling serene faces. Geez, even taking the photos is hard work – “just one more! Just one more, look at the camera!” etc. There was not one amazing photo from our recent holiday! We took pictures in front of the Leaning Tower of Piza, The Coliseum, random statuary, and of course the obligatory shots at the wedding. But no, not one single photo where everyone is smiling nicely, looking at the camera and is awake. On the day of the wedding, when everyone was dressed nicely, all three of the boys were looking anywhere but at the camera and it was the only day on the entire holiday when my hair was noticeably awful. I probably won’t even take a single photo when I go away, except perhaps random selfies to tease the house bound-husband, mwuh ha haaa. Take THAT for mechanical-bull-riding.

Husband brought home one of his rugby players today, all fresh-faced from training camp w the pro US rugby team. He walked in to 5yo excitedly yelling to Daddy about something, and me trawling away on the computer. The kitchen was/is untidy and the playroom was/is a disaster. What must he have been thinking? > What a fucking mess
> Is that what I have to look forward to when I get married? > What is that smell?
> No wonder Coach is grumpy
> How big is this kitchen?
> When can I take a nap before training?
> Surely, with all this bench space, it can’t all be covered with piles of crap? > Woah, that is one nasty pumpkin
> Wow, there seriously is shit everywhere
> Man, I’m hungry
> How can they eat in here?
> Wow, that’s a lot of toys

There was a time when I thought I would not marry and an overlapping time when I didn’t want kids, but one day I heard my biological clock tick (seriously, I was working in an office and I stopped in my cute high-heeled tracks because I heard my biological clock tick; I was about 20yo I think) and I suppose all the “I don’t want your kids to touch me” went out the window. Actually, I still don’t mind not being touched by other people’s kids, some of them are unnecessarily touchy-feely or just plain blergh, but I have accepted with open arms all the drool and spit-up, toilet-training and endless mountains of laundry from my own precious offspring. But what would pre-biological-clock-hearing 20yo me have thought about coming into such a scene as rugby boy did today? > What a fucking mess
> When I have kids they will be way cuter than that kid
> What is that smell?
> Cleaning this place would be the pits
> How big is this kitchen?
> Is there any food in that fridge?
> Surely, with all this bench space, it can’t all be covered with piles of crap? > Woah, that is one nasty pumpkin
> Wow, there seriously is shit everywhere
> What is in all of those cupboards?
> Is that stuff from breakfast?
> Wow, that’s a lot of toys

In short, sod off 20yo me, I can’t imagine my life any other way.

I am big on making shit, even though I am sometimes shit at making it. Halloween costumes are new to us, obviously, but we have been wearing them for longer than we have not, I think. I don’t want to spend (much) money on costumes that (are tacky) will be grown out of quickly. I also prefer a bit of creativity in those things, so while last year I did buy some crummy commercial things for the big boys, I embellished was then nearly 2yo’s cowboy chaps with a tea towel around his neck, making him the cutest cowboy in our neck of the woods.
This year 6.5yo wants to be a policeman, easy. We found a police hat in a party store (cheating) but the actual outfit will just be clothes from home. 5yo wants to be the Golden Ninja, and nearly 3yo has chosen Cole, the black-robed ninja. Between my martinis and soap operas, I went and bought some super flammable golden fabric and proceeded to outdo myself. I’ve used pajamas as the pattern, basically just drawing around them. I might have cut them a little too close, but I have added a little extra fabric on the sides of the pants and those extra seams really add to the secret lines of ninja power, or something. 5yo is also on the ‘super slim’ side of healthy, so cutting it close won’t make a lick of difference, I suspect. Organising nearly 3yo into a Cole costume should be just as easy.
We went to Goodwill this afternoon, actually, I should have looked around for a black tracksuit, but I forgot. I was too intent on finding a wedding dress for my sashay in The Color Vibe run on the weekend. Anyhoo, I think I will be able to sew white lines onto a black sweater and make it look like a karate/spinjitsu robe pretty easily. On the other hand, I could put him in the teeny black tails tuxedo we happen to have lying around and then get a belt and hopefully he will believe it.
Weather allowing, Husband and I will be Mr and Mrs Lego (mental note: get painting!!), weather not permitting then we might not end up going, wah! But there are 2 parties we are going to, and I like the idea of a sugar skull lady for one and something undead for the other, deets TBA.

Is it any wonder that when I walk into a room I forget what I was going to do? The rooms in my house are like pies, and I have fingers in all of them.
I walk into my room thinking to get dressed; the pile of unsorted laundry has been heaped nicely back into the basket in the middle of the floor so husband won’t have conniptions about it still being there. But that means I can’t easily find what I need, and I know there is nothing wearable in my drawer (so I need to go shopping?), so I head to the laundry. There is clean laundry in another basket there, but it has tea towels stuffed on top. So I must fold the tea towels and take them to the kitchen, whereupon I spy my half-drunk tea. So I drain and refill it with the half-drunk from earlier, which means it needs to be reheated. But then I must powder my nose. I may or may not get some borax post-visit to sprinkle before pawing through that basket in the laundry, then head back to my dressing room to – perchance – get dressed. Then brush teeth and make dismayed faces in the mirror over the beer neck I have acquired this week. Find socks – probably in the laundry again, find shoes where Husband erroneously put them in the shoe cupboard, call children to come down to get ready for school. Maybe go upstairs for socks which they never remember to get, then come back down to the laundry and find some in the other basket there. Lunch boxes, jumpers (sweaters), show and tell items, spare clothes for nearly 3yo (for today is my day off from children for 6 hours). Probably find unnecessaries or leftover foodstuffs in the car – which drives Husband completely bonkers (mwuh ha haaaaa) – and then maybe drive down the driveway on time. Must not forget to check faces before getting out of the car, everyone’s a critic.

I wouldn’t mind being in some sort of shape besides my current one. And I like the idea of running, even though I’ve never done it before. I like the idea of running around for a bit and watching the pounds slide right off. However, my pear-shaped parts aren’t fans of running, and I feel pretty self-conscious about when moving around in general. And since when were tight gym clothes an incentive to work out? I want to work out to wear (not super) tight clothes, not feel bad wearing the neon lycras when doing squats or lunges or chest presses or anything that makes my parts sweat and jiggle. However, a friend suggested a run a few months ago, a fun run, so tutus etc. I opted for a big dress so the gym clothes were covered. Bingo!
It rained a bit in the morning but petered out before we got going; the boys a-boo-hooing over and over was a bit trying but nonetheless, I managed 15-20min of actual running out of a roughly 50min round trip. Not too shabby, and in a prom dress, no less. Of course, I am feeling a bit rundown today, but I also didn’t warm up or warm down, or train, or exercise in general beforehand, so I’m probably lucky I didn’t hurt my-bloody-self.
Anyhoo, I am seriously (seriously?!) Thinking about another 5k next weekend – The Monster Dash – so I can cover up my running gear again with a costume of sorts, and push around three whiny bastards in a bike trailer again. At this rate, I will get massive shoulders and biceps in no time, and say !Goodnight! to bingo wings for, maybe, a decade or so if I am lucky.

When I have bad dreams – I rarely have actual nightmares – I still want to be reassured before going back to sleep. I’m not 4 anymore so there is not much excuse for the “I had a bad dreeeeeam” waking in the middle of the night for a hug – regardless of what Husband says, but I still need that. Last night I had an awful dream. I didn’t wake Husband, and I didn’t rest my hand on his arm, which works like reassurance if I deign to let the poor bastard sleep, but I really wanted some of that.
It was The End of The World. There was radiation, volcanoes, tsunamis, everything. We didn’t want the boys to be hurt, afraid or experience any of the doomsday stuff so we killed. We gave them a drink that tasted like charcoal that would send them off to sleep, never to wake again. I had one as well because I didn’t want to live without them, but it didn’t kill me, so I felt awful for the rest of my short life.
After our babies were gone, Husband went off to Sydney because that’s where he wanted to die. I went north to Seattle, I think it was because I hadn’t been there much before. I ended up seeing a bunch of my mummy friends along the way. Some people were spending their last few hours exercising because they didn’t reach their weight loss goals. I was so lonely and sad, I just couldn’t believe that the world would finally end, but then the sky was eerie and there was foreboding in the air, and then it started happening, the world was Ending. I was appalled and then I was awake. There were momentous feelings of unbelievable relief when I woke up, it had felt so real! I’m sure I lay there/here for a few minutes just appreciating that the world had not, in fact, ended.
When I snapped back to tired reality (it was 2 something), I was caught between writing down the sordid adventure and just forgetting the whole awful dream. Eventually I went back to sleep but I remembered it anyway, which rarely happens. It would be nice if I could remember the good dreams instead.
My mother always told me that bad dreams are your body’s way of waking you up, perhaps for a trip to the bathroom or if you are too hot, etc. Remembering that has helped calm me for the last twenty years – that makes me feel old! – and last night was no different. I was too hot and also thirsty. I didn’t get a drink because I felt too frazzled to move, but it helped realising why I had the dream. Of course, it would be much nicer to merely wake up serenely, or dream of powdering one’s nose with a big soft fluffy fluff ball and glancing behind to see a sparkling clean commode that I have never had to clean and making a decision to make use of the facilities. That absolutely sounds like a dream – a pipe dream! Ho hum.

Nearly 3yo has had swimming lessons for the past year, almost. At first he hated it, but warmed up to it pretty quickly, and now is an avid diver before his third birthday. All of his lessons to date have been the Parent Tot sessions. He loves being in the water with me and he loves singing the songs, but he has known about safety slides and the Welcome and Good-Bye songs for long enough. Today was his first lesson in Pre-K Level 2, sans parent. It is questionable at this stage, whether he will listen to an instructor, but I suppose that is standard for his age. He was also the only kid in the class today, so maybe at the next lesson, if there are more kids, he will be inclined to follow.
The first 5 minutes, he spent screaming like a banshee. Everyone at the pool knows him for his fearless jumps, splashes and dives in 12 inches (not off the edge, obviously), so we were all quite bemused when he was inconsolable while whirling around today.
The 2nd 5minutes were in shallow water and he enjoyed that, but then was more screaming and not listening when his teacher tried to introduce new things. Did Phelps and Thorpe start like this?

The 2nd lesson in the sans parent session was better in that he had peers in the class with him whom he knew, but there was a different teacher, and she was not so well-prepared to deal w widdle monkeys who can stand up in the water but don’t want to stand still while she has her back turned. So naïve.
If nothing else, I can see that nearly 3yo will be fine in a swim class without me, and I would probably be fine having all three of mine taking their lesson at the same time. Boo to not swimming with a toddler anymore!

Before I kick the bucket, I need to fill it with hot water and mop the floor with it, but mopping isn’t high on my priority list unless there are nasty spills – vacuuming will usually suffice. My Bucket List consists of things that need doing in the immediate short term, rather than in the far off of when I gray out my hair and watch grand kids run through the house on holidays.
My list right now includes things like “make the solar sytem mobile”, “hem jeans”, “pick apples from the old house” and then “make apple chutney”, among other things. I have actually done quite a good job (haha) of completing tasks since we came home, and that is not entirely due to putting easy jobs on the list to begin with. I have completed such riveting jobs as “clean chicken coop”, “sort laundry” (no laughing matter), “make (liquid hand) soap”, “mow the lawn” (there was also a mouse out there YAAAAAAAHHHHH), and rewire “grapevine”. Sounds simple enough but I’ve time for none of it, so yay me for getting shit done regardless.
Another thing I have added to the list is make throw cushions for my boys out of shirts they have grown out of. I’m not a super fantastic seamstress but I do ok, and I found 2 Elmo shirts that nearly 3yo is too big for and is not cute wearing anymore because his belly hangs out too far instead of just a little bit. And we have an abundance of pillow stuffing just lying around. I also have some fabric left over from having some furniture recovered, so it sounds like I just created a lot of work for myself. But seriously, how cute would two Elmo pillows look on his bed? Totes adorbs, that’s how. And perhaps swapping the material between the brown armchairs and the Peacock (coloured) Sofa would look fabulous, especially against the bedroom wall colour (sea foam). Sure, we wouldn’t see them under mounds of crap that remains to be put away, but that would be a nice touch to our Parent’s Retreat. And that is a job that 5yo could help with – what child wouldn’t love pulling the actual stuffing out of stuff and jamming it into something else? No son of mine, that’s fo’ shizzle. But that is after we get our Thanksgiving Turkey from out of town and probably do a Costco run, so (sew) actually doing it after that when nearly 3yo is napping would be good timing. That is the plan for tomorrow, then: turkey, costco, sew. Turkey, Costco, Sew. TURKEY! COSTCO! SEW! I may dream that in Dora’s voice tonight. Thanks Nickelodean.

I noticed about 2 months ago that the evening breezes changed from ‘hot as balls’ to ‘cool and sweet’. To me, that signalled the beginning of the end of Summer. Then the leaves changed to yellow here and there, and then to pink, and that was before our at times calamitous holiday. Post Italy, more leaves are making haste to the ground and now the rains have started, and this weekend the winds were super strong and the wet weakened occasionally for the boys to run out the sillies in the garden. I’m surprised the electricity lasted a whole weekend before going out. But it is Sunday evening, there is little to do but drink wine by candlelight, anyway. Another good thing about having no power is not having to clean – there is no point turning on the generator just for that!
Since Husband was home today, we attempted some jobs around the house to prepare for the inevitable outage, but the weather got the better of us so we took naps instead. We did bring in some wood, and poke around for kindling. I also brought forth an involuntary scream – or ongoing shriek, call it what you will – as some bark, lichen and fluff erupted and spewed out a mouse with 2 or 3 widdle babies in tow. *blech* Countryside or not, mice are nasty.
Tomorrow, everyone will be at school, and while I should go grocery shopping since I won’t have screaming leeches hanging off me, there won’t be anything else so pressing that I can’t sit down and get back into my book, I haven’t written anything in, oh, 6 years, at least much of any length or substance. Oh, the humanity. Procrastination be gone fro me!

Reading all the vague crappy pictures on facebook, one of those “if you do this then you are that” themes indicates that I am a suspicious person.
At first that seems stupid, who is suspicious these days when the cold war is over? But on second thought I am kind of suspicious all the time, not like those awesome characters on The Americans (when is that show coming back??), just like Michael on Mary Poppins, “sus-sus-sus-Suspicious”.
For example, where normal people would smile and move on or better yet make conversation, I always assume that people who are unnecessarily cheerful out and about are spies (rather than cheerful folk, like) because I’m just not that interesting. But people spying on me would indicate quite the opposite. I also think about Home Alone 3 – or was it 5? – where the kid’s friends went away or were kidnapped or something but people were posing and everyone walking on the street were part of the bad guys group. Yeah that, that happens to me all the time.
I don’t think I’m purposely suspicious of Husband, not like in bodice-ripper novels about 7 year itches or whatevers, but I think sometimes I suspect his motives. I can only assume that is because I am sleep-deprived and shitted to tears on occasion by the people I made myself, because Husband is very undeserving of suspicion. He is one of those sincere people who actually want to help people besides themselves… Excuse me while I rip off my bodice.