Tag Archives: Two Year Old Terror

Marble Boy

As I type today’s post I am waiting for a surgeon somewhere in the southern region of NSW, to call us back to tell is they can deal with this….

Yep, that’s a marble sitting in the wee mans stomach, and it’s been there ten days. Hasn’t moved one way or the other.

Now I don’t want to get into the saga that our local health providers have put us through, let’s just say the complaint letter will be long, about as long as the wait for hospital admission.

He ate the marble at preschool, another thing that we’re very pleased about. Yeah.

Have your kids eaten anything they shouldn’t have? How long before it came out again?

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Filed under Complaints Dept, Kid Safety, Rants & Stuff, The Kids

Over my shoulder…

The school run can be a frazzling experience with my crowd, and slightly insane. I decided to make a note of what goes down in my mummy van. It starts the second they get in.

Henry, “I’m a good master chef.”
Ok
Austin, “I want donut, we go shop” (this is not a request, it’s a statement). No
Austin, “Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww (crying) I want go shop now”
Charlie, “Yay let’s go shop! Donuts.”
Sorry no.
Henry, “Mummy did you see that I’m a good master chef? I didn’t hear a yes?” Yes
Henry, “mummy what’s master chef?”
A show about barristers that dream about being baristas Honey. Henry, “what’s a barista?”
The lady at shop who makes mummy her coffee.
Charlie, “mummy look at my keg”
Austin, “no no no leg”
Charlie, “Mummy look at my leg. It’s broken it needs a doctor. Doctordoctordoctor!” Your leg is not broken.
Charlie, “you look at my leg”
Georgie, “mummy did you have a pet contest at school? You have to put our fish in a container for me.” Uh huh. We’ll see.
Charlie, “I ate the cheese.”

Henry, “Mummy does Amy’s house have a front door?”
Yes
Henry, “is it red?”
I can’t remember.
Henry, “is it blue?”
I really don’t know.
Henry, after a pause. “Mummy is it brown?”
Yeah sure.
Charlie, “doctor doctor doctor doctor” (chanted like a siren)

Austin, “mummy how you do that?”
What?
Austin, “do that?”
Um. Like this.
Austin, “ok”
Charlie, “Doctor doctor doctor”
Georgie, “Mum how do you do the dugong?”
The what?
Georgie, “the dugong, like this!” I spy hands waving in the air in he rear view mirror. Yep like that.
Charlie, “go shop. Wah.” He actually said the word ‘wah’
Wah huh?
Charlie, “wah” with added smug grin.
Henry, “what does Jordons name start with?”
J
Henry, “you’re a liar it does not start with j!”
Ah here we go, the after school rage is coming out.
Don’t call mummy a liar. Do you know what liar means?
Henry, “you said a bad word! Don’t say that bad word to me!” What word as the bad word?
Henry, “That one! Can we have pudding?.”
I think you’ve had enough pudding. I mean, mummy doesn’t have pudding in the car.

Austin, “I want pudding” proceeds to bawl his eyes out.
Henry, “I didn’t hear a yes?”
Charlie, “pudding pudding pudding!” Again chanted like a siren. Sorry after dinner. No pudding in the car.
Georgie, “I’ll be good. Can I have pudding?”
Henry, “mummy did you eat the pudding?”
Austin, “A dogs doing a wee!” At least the tears have stopped. Henry “whys that dog doing a wee?”
He needed to.
Charlie, “I want to wee in the garden!”
Austin, “Mummy can I go toilet?”
No. Nearly home.
Charlie, “hey look at my wee wee”
Leave your pants on!
Austin, “can I go toilet?”
Do you really need to go?
Austin, “no”.
Georgie, “if I’m good can I have pudding while the boys are not allowed?” Ah no.
Henry, “me too.”
THERE IS NO PUDDING IN THE CAR. THERE MAY NOT EVEN BE PUDDING AT HOME. YOU LOT ARE NEGOTIATING FOR SOMETHING I DONT HAVE! Silence
All: awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
Georgie, “but I’ve been good.”
Sigh. Let’s go get pudding. I need some pudding.
Henry, “but I will get cold”
For the love of…

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Filed under Kids Say the Darndest Things, The Kids

Turns out, I’m not as clever as Macgyver.

EVERY now and then we should all take a little time out to think about things; to put aside the smart phone and look around. Quite often this is something I don’t have time to do but recently the opportunity arose. I found myself given a moment to stop and consider the big questions from my roof top after my four year old moved the ladder.

As I sat up there for a while sans phone or anything to throw on the neighbour’s roof, I thought of so many things I hadn’t had the chance to ponder before. Things like how was I going to get down and what possible threat I could make that would bring the boy back with the ladder. I wondered what happened to those negotiator skills I used to have and could I fashion some kind of abseiling kit from the television antenna cable?

I know MacGyver would be all over that. Then it hit me…  click HERE to read the whole story.

The above is an excerpt from my column that you can find at the Goulburn Post.

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Filed under Complaints Dept, My Column, Rants & Stuff, The Kids

We have a new Dark Overlord.

I thought there was nothing a child could throw at me that I couldn’t take, if there is a mum that can probably take on anyone with combat training it’d be me.  Oh yeah, I reckon I’m a hardcore mum.  Crap on the carpet and vomit on the wall, plus dinner to get on the table and all at the same time, oh yeah I got this – totally all over it.

But then there was Charlie.

Our youngest is beginning to exhibit behaviour that leaves us wondering, if not somewhat nervous (and hiding the matches).  We thought we’d seen it all, after all Henry did once blow up our kitchen.

Charlie is adorable.  Clearly this is all part of his cover.  The signs were there, I just didn’t pay attention… OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Take last summers holiday for instance, I had decided in my wisdom to take the six kids over the coast on my own (because I’m totally a combat mummy right?) the Hubster was going to come later when he was on days off.   We arrive at the holiday house and Austin (the town crier) let the neighbourhood know he wanted a drink, I was about to remind him how to ask politely when I heard Charlie tell him “Don’t worry Austin I’ll get you a drink”.  I wondered how Charlie would get it, since he is too little to reach a tap yet.  So I decided to check.  There he was cup in hand, his little willy in the other peeing in the cup and about to hand it too his brother to drink. HOW DID HE EVEN THINK OF THAT?! (I’m fairly sure we haven’t let him watch any Bear Grylls).

Part of me nearly didn’t stop him, and I hear you judging, but come on you can’t tell me isn’t there just a little part of you that is thinking it would be SO funny if he actually took a sip.  I fought off the temptation to laugh my arse off at my child’s expense, and stopped the drink being handed over.

I now regard anything given to me by the small one with suspicion and a good sniff.

Little brothers, evil incarnate.  They’ve sat and watched their elder siblings, and while they were still figuring stuff out and getting in trouble, little brothers are taking notice working out the loop holes.

And then there is Charlie… you never know when he’ll strike either.  I took him to the loo at the shops recently, and on this day I had chosen to wear a skirt, a mistake I won’t make again.

Sharing a public toilet cubicle with a small child is always a bit interesting at the best of times, Mummy are you doing poos?! (He sticks head under the gap to look at your neighbour) Are they doing poos? Or they open the door while your pants are halfway down, being the helpful little people that they are.

On this day Charlie had done his thing and then I needed to do mine, and while he observed the proceedings he noticed I was wearing a skirt.  Clearly in his mind this observation had to be made in the form of a public announcement “Mummy you ain’t got no pants on!”  I hear a stifled giggle in the cubicle next to me and I explain loud enough so I could be heard by my neighbour “No honey, mummy has a skirt on and here are my pants SEE?!”  Nope, not good enough for him “No, you ain’t got no pants on!”  As I try to convince him otherwise, people in the toilets are just laughing out loud now, and I realise that at some point I’m going to have to go out there and face women who think I’ve gone shopping sans panties.  Maybe I’m more of a commando mum than I thought?

So I wait until I think everyone is gone (“What are you doing mummy? Can we go now? What’s in that bin? Can I play with it?”) and sneak out, but oh no there had to be someone still at the sink.  She laughed and said how funny little boys are, but I could tell she was checking me out for visible panty lines.   I drag the boy out to his father who was waiting near the food court, and there was a brief lull in which Charlie decided was the best moment to tell his father “Mummy ain’t got no pants on!”  Fifty heads turned simultaneously and looked at me (agog, food halfway to their faces), all of them clearly wondering if I had indeed gone shopping without pants.  To which the Hubster responded, with a glimmer of surprise/hope in his eyes “Really?”  Yeah sure Hun we’re how old now?!

It seems I have a challenge before me.

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Filed under Kids Say the Darndest Things, Moments, The Kids, Too Much Information

Buttons

I was having one of those mornings, when pushing my buttons is pretty easy.  It’s as if my button is a gigantic bright red one with do not push written all over it, and so what is the first thing you want to do?  PUSH IT!  I decided to use today as a writing day, because I just don’t get to anymore.  Things didn’t quite go to plan, I didn’t get to write what I was supposed to write, but I do have a tale to tell.

By the end of this post I will probably end up curling up in a ball rocking back and forth, but I’ll give it a shot. I have to write something today! I decided to start the day off with a bit of fun for the kids, the idea was to get them tired so that they’d leave me alone.  I took them, on my own (yes all six of them), to the local spring festival.  Usually I’ve got this shit, or so I thought.

I should’ve seen the warning signs when the first tantrum started from the four year old (Mr ‘cry because it gets me things at school‘), because I dared to stop and look at a market stall, we’d only just arrived and already it was on.  We skip the stalls and go and spend the necessary half hour on the play equipment, while they play I spend the time perfecting my apology statements to the parents of other children that may have experienced the wrath of my minions.  Eventually I run out of ideas and we move on to the gates of hell; sideshow alley.  Barely getting past the show bag stand with my wallet intact, and only doing so by distracting the smaller children as we passed.   With faces all painted like cats, we are almost out the other side and on the home straight, when they see it.  The inflatable alter at which all children come to weep, worship and bounce.  The jumping castle.

This ought to round things off nicely I thought. Idiot.

Only little ones were allowed on the castle, however my big thirteen year old autie boy still thinks he is little, and was already taking off his shoes to go on.  The lovely bloke running the ride said to me that he could go on, saying he looks like a gentle giant and shouted him a free go.  Regrets….. I have a few….. Can you hear that song? I can.

On they go, Miss 12 and Mr ‘cry because it gets me things at school‘ decided to sit this one out.    As soon as his bottom touched the ground the tears began to fall for the bazillionth time that day, he wanted a lollypop.  Bawling as if I’d branded him and wanting something that I didn’t have either, so I did my best to settle him down.  While I was doing this Autie boy decided to let everyone know just how much he was enjoying the jumping castle, by stripping naked.  Yes you read that right, in front of around 20 people he gets his kit off, and puberty is not being kind to him at the moment.  ALL KINDS OF AWKWARD.

I launch myself into the castle and grab him his clothes and his siblings and drag them out and behind it, throwing my apologies in every direction as I went.  Miss 12 goes into damage control mode, which she has sadly gotten very good at and rounds up all our remaining gear and waits.  Close enough if I need her, but not close enough for people to be sure she is with us.  I wouldn’t come near us either if I was her, geez we’re embarrassing.

Autie boy clothed and shod, I attempt to leave.  That’s when I find Mr 3 standing in the tulips pulling them out, and Mr 4 sitting on a picnic blanket of a strange family eating their food.

And that my friends is the moment I pushed my own big red button.

Tantrum time!

Tantrum time!

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Filed under Complaints Dept, Moments, Rants & Stuff, The Kids, Too Much Information