Here’s the hits you’ve been waiting for:

1. Setting up the Christmas Tree.. Yay!  Christmas is finally here (sort of)… We have a busy weekend of work and parties, and trimming the tree is a bit of an event around here; we have a roast, a christmassy dessert, and of course a cranberry inspired bevvy or two.  So we’ve set it up a day early (we usually do it on the 30th).  We listened to Rod Stewart croon the shit out of those carols, lit the chrissy candles and had a fine ol’ night.

2. The school Christmas Carols. Very sweet to see the kids onstage and working as a group.  For the first time Unit Two was down the front with her peers and then up on stage.  No Mummy-leg-holding.  That’ll do me for Chrissy thanks.

3. Catching up with some idiots I love on the weekend.  Idiots who know me better than most anyone in the world, and yet still seem to like me (most of the time…dance moves not withstanding).  How tolerant.  How spesh.  Nothing much else to add, other than “Cosmos anyone?”

4. Getting a few twitter RTs this week from Mrs Woog, John James and Kelly Exeter: Twitter and blogging royalty.  Puffed and chuffed, me is.

5. A visit from the Mother-In-Law.  So far she’s done all my ironing, pretty much handled the aforementioned roast and played shit games with the kids. All whilst plying me with a very tasty savvy b… Who knows what I will be able to get her to do* before the weekend is through?  You rock Jenna.

* One of the things she will be doing is making us her cray-cray ‘no bowl’ slice.  It has a tin of condensed milk, so you know only good things can come of it.  Winning.

Have a great weekend.  Are you trimming your bush tree this weekend?

Do you make an event of it?

Three year olds say some funny things, and Liam often springs his on me in the car.

“Mum, Mum,” he said with some alarm, “I can’t find my biblical area.”

“Pardon?” I said, surprised, “Your what?”

“My BIBLICAL AREA. I can’t find it, and I’ve looked and looked and it’s gone.”  The pitch and the decibels rising in the concern for the missing biblical region.

“Mate, I’m not sure what you mean,” I tried to sound soothing whilst hurtling along the motorway, almost late, as usual.

“The biblical area. That Dad made me. When he cut my biblical spring,” now sensing that I was bewildered, “when I was a BABY.”

The ‘Aha’ moment.  His UM-biblical tea. And in my concern, and then relief, I may have let the pedal stray a little closer to the metal.  Flashing red and blue lights in the rear-view mirror confirmed it.  I pulled over, and wound down the window, awaiting my fate.

“Hello,” came the cheery voice from behind mirrored lessees.  Skin smooth and sparkling, not long from acne and first shaves.  Youthful enthusiasm bursting from all pores.

“Do you know what speed you were doing Ma’am?”

“Um… Not really… About 90?” I asked hopefully.

“No,” came the helpful voice from the backseat, “you were up to one and one and zero Mum, I saw it on the speedo.”

“Was she really?” said Liam’s new best friend, beaming at me, and putting his hear a little further inside the window.

“Yep. She always does that. Is that a safety violation?”

“Yes it is,” said the teen-cop, laughing now.

“And how about driving your car and talking on your mobile.  Is that a safety violation?” asked Liam, warming up to one of his favourite topics.

“Yep, that’s one too,” said junior plod, gleefully as I squirmed in my seat, trying to give Liam meaningful “thats’ enough young man’ looks and the policeman innocent ‘I would never do that’  looks simultaneously.

“And how about when your Dad says ‘fuck’ in the garage when he hurts his thumb? Is that one?”

“Well… Not really a safety violation, but obscene language in front of a minor, certainly a reportable offence,” from the embyronic officer.

“A reportable offence,” echoed Liam thoughtfully, tasting the sound of a new phrase for his repertoire.  I could tell that one would be used at a later date.

“Any other safety violations?” asked constable youth, putting his head all the way into the car now, having a great time.

“Hmmm,” said the informant, “what about when your Dad cuts off your biblical spring, then you can’t find your biblical area any more?” asked Liam, all the while making violent slashing gestures towards his nether regions.

“Um…er…not sure about that,” said the cop, pulling his head back out of the car a little.

“And what about if you get your Mum’s tampons, and put them up your nose?” Liam in full cry now, loving every minute of this parry.

“Well. Um. I don’t, um, don’t know.” he almost stuttered, hastily retreating now.  Eyes flicking from me, to the whistle-blower, and back.  The thought “loonies” flashing like neon across his forehead.   “You just drive slower next time okay lady.” he said, walking quickly backwards, and almost stumbling in the rush to get away from the biblical-tampon-violators, or whatever he thought we were.

“They were just tampons he found in my bag,” I yelled out futilely to his disappearing back, “they were new.”

Without a look back he jumped into his car and was off in a screech or gravel.  I could just imagine his wide eyes behind those TV-cop sunnies as he took off along the motorway to the relative safety of bikies and druggies and robbers.

“That guy didn’t know very much about tampons Mum,” from the back “and he made a black mark on the road. That’s a safety violation.”

“Yes. Yes it is,” I thought as i set off at a sedate pace. The things kids spring on you.

Biblical springs.

Sprung by cops.

And a new spring in my step as I realised we’d escaped a ticket.

Three year olds say some funny things.

Hope you enjoyed this one…. From The Asher Archives xx

And just to give you some perspective, today, the kids did not eat all their breakfast easily and quickly and without single-handedly desalinating the entire Himalyan Mountain Range.

They did not make their beds, get dressed, brush their teeth and hair quickly.

They did not play with just one toy.

Instead, the evil geniuses did the exact opposite of the graceful and wondrous things they did yesterday.

They went downstairs, and they went very quiet.  Very.  After yesterday, I saw this as positive, rather than portentous.  Sucker fact #1.  So I did not go down to investigate, I assumed, on the basis of one day of unprecedented excellence (that shall henceforth be known as THE Golden Day) that they were silently and systematically completing all of the set tasks.  Sucker fact #2.

They were not doing any of these things.

They were in fact recreating the aftermath of Cyclone Tracey in each of their bedrooms.  They were efficient and effective in their re-enactment, and just like Tracey, they moved quickly and then they were silent.

If you’d like a list of the damages, here it is:

• Every Sylvanian and it’s accessories were strewn across the floor. The floor has a rug.  With a heavy shag-pile.  So now there are stupid tiny, tiny, minuscule pencils and bottles and lipsticks that will ne’er be seen again.  Their sound will be heard as they are hoovered up next week.  And no, I will not be vacuuming with a stocking over the vac to find these tiny agents of evil.
• All of the Lego was out, but only some of the Lego was invisible.  Invisible, but not undetectable to the soft, delicate arch of my bare feet.
• Every stuffed toy was out of it’s drawer.  I usually have them shoved in a drawer.  I had no idea there were so many. Inexplicably they were lined up on Liam’s bed, a row of strange cyclone survivors.
• A box of musical instruments, unopened for over five years were ALL out.  Maracas, harmonicas, home-made shakers, castanets, bells, xylophones, ukuleles, whistles and bells. WHAT?  WHY?
• A scrapbooking class must have come to visit, had their way with Coco’s supplies and then vanished, as every.bit.of.craft.crap was out.  Even the never-previously-used stamp pad.

There was probably more, but I’m sick of talking about it now, almost as sick as I was of cleaning it all up today.  Usually I wouldn’t have done it.  Usually I would have made them do it themselves, with the threat of the big green bin to get the task done with alacrity, but today was different.

And those little axes of evil knew it, because tomorrow:

(Insert Jaws theme, or Death Star March, or the shower music from Psycho)

THE MOTHER-IN-LAW COMES.

So all must be perfect.

It is as Liam said when he clocked the state of his bedroom and the bathroom this afternoon, “It’s like the Queen is coming to visit.”

Mission Accomplished.

How about you, do you clean up after your brats?

Any Mother-In-Law tips?   (Just joking Jen)

Today both kids stayed in bed ’til 5.30am.

Today they ate all of their breakfast without complaining or having to be told eighty-seven times to sit up and eat their eggs, or stop putting on so much salt, or stop teasing/copying/looking at each other.

Today they made their beds without being asked four million and six times.

Today they got dressed, brushed their teeth and their hair in a timely fashion without being asked once.

Today I got to see the Grade 3 ukulele concert, and it was surprisingly good.

Today I had a great day at work, with so many fantastic old patients, and one new one.

Today my husband had my dinner cooked and a glass of red poured when I came up after work.

Today I got to read a gorgeous snippet of what I hope will be a twitter friend’s best selling novel.

Today I had some bills to pay, and I got them paid.

Today the self-inflicted, dancing-induced sore neck that I have, wasn’t as bad.  It’s healing.

Today was a good day.

And I am grateful for good days such as these.

They might not be earth-shatteringly exciting, or full of portent, or meaning.  They may not even be the days I will remember when I look back on the blessed life I have led.  And for that I am grateful.  Because some days just need to be good days.  And that is enough.

“Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.”  -John Lennon.

How was your day?

Did you have a good day?

It’s been a busy few days around these parts: catch-ups with friends (amazing), busy days at work (fun) and lots of last things to get done before the school year finishes in EIGHT MORE DAYS.  So apologies RRs* for going AWOL….

Two weeks ago, we had Unit One in tears when I suggested he do a practice-run of the song he was due to play at his end of year drum recital (Is it a recital when it is kids smashing the crap out of a set of skins?).  We have not heard one single skerrick of practice all year, and believe me, with the size of our house and the type of songs he learns, I’d know if he was playing.  Let’s just say it is not Vivaldi.  So far, I’m told he doesn’t need to practice because he “learns it all in my lessons”.  The lessons go for half an hour.  Per week.  Sounds suspiciously like that old “I did all my maths homework on the way home on the bus” chestnut.  Anyway, I said “give me a run through” and he cried.  Because, shock of shocks, he couldn’t remember it.

It’s funny, he’s been the type of kid who hasn’t really had to work very hard for anything so far.  He’s naturally good at most things, has a great memory, and could read fluently at four years old.  This means there have been no hard-won battles to learn sight words or times tables, no trial and error, no striving for success.  So of course he wanted me to call the drum teacher and get him out of the concert. Or change songs to something he already knew.

Ummm, NO.

In the interests of making a point (and being right in the process- my two fave things) we made him practice that song three times every night for the next nine nights, and guess what?  He learnt it.  He bashed those drums as hard as he could and he did a great job. Not perfect but great.

You see, the reason why he didn’t want to practice it was because he couldn’t do it perfectly the first time.  He was concerned, because even though it looks like an easy song, he says it’s quite difficult. I suspect when you’re a kid who has had things come easily, you don’t have resilience or determination in your repertoire.  Maybe persistence isn’t something you’re born with, but something you have to practice, just like your drumming.  So we entered tenacity training.  And it worked (Of course it did, did I mention I’m always right?).  He did the song, and by the look on his face, and the chatter in the car afterwards, the victory tasted sweeter for being something he’d worked on and worked out.  Thunderous applause.

Crank up the volume, sit back and get Thunderstruck

PS Please click the link- he’s collecting views and I promised I’d blog up the numbers for him….

* Regular Readers

Here’s my top five, peeps, and no, cancer is NOT on the list.

1.  Vespas. How cool are they?  Hahaha, that was a joke. Vespas suck.  We all know that right?  So stop buying them then people.  And stop driving them in front of me at 50kms in an 80km zone.  Thanks.

2.  Two visits to The Green Room at Eumundi in one week.  Love that place.  Love that green. If it was closer, it would be my new local. And, in fact, if I could convince more people to meet me out there for a sneaky mid-week, mid-day glass of sparkles, then I suspect it would be, regardless of distance.  Sorry Red, you’re grouse, but green is the new black.

3.  My $2 tomato plant from the world’s worst store (Bunnings).  It’s planted in a tiny bit of sandy “soil”, receives no love, and has currently yielded seven juicy ripe tommies.  FYI I am also growing basil, mint and chives, so yeah, basically self-sufficient. Just call me Don Bourke… Without the swears (except for the blog yesterday, sorry about that.)

4.  My awesome home-based barista (everything is home-based now isn’t it?). He just bought me a cup of the hot, perky brown stuff.  Better than George Clooney… yes, yes, I know there’s a new ad. Mmmmm George I mean, Nespresso.

5.  Blogging. Thanks for reading, all of you. Thanks especially for the shares, likes and comments.  I know I’m pretty self-indulgent, and rant on about my own shit all the time, in fact, Sam gave me a gift yesterday that said exactly that…  But I really do appreciate you letting me know when you are reading, what you like reading, and egging me on.  I love doing this.  It’s my first ever real hobby.

How about you?  Any hobbies?  

What’s your top 5?