Dear Mummy
Dear Mummy,
I know I am a little late with this letter, but it has taken me this long to assure you that I am asleep, so I haven’t been able to get near the computer. I would appreciate it if you don’t look in on me right now though, okay?
I know you said something about it being Mothers Day today, so I have gone out of my way to be nice. I slept in until 9am this morning, just for you!
I wasn’t sure if Daddy was willing to let you stay in bed (he was) so I just figured that if I stayed in bed my very own self, it would just be easier on both of you.
It took me a few hours to grasp it, but once I realised that you wanted kisses, I took every opportunity to kiss you silly.
‘Mummee? Tiss pleas?’
MWAH!
‘Tiss now?’
MWAH!
‘I tiss’
MWAH!
I know that my kisses were sloppy, but sometimes the drool just escapes. You love me anyway, right?
I love you so much Mummy, that I didn’t want to be separated from you all day. I admire how you coped so well, even when I didn’t nap. One day you will have to show me how you cook dinner one handed. It probably helped that Daddy prepped all the vegies for you. He is a clever Daddy, I heard you say so.
Thankyou so much for teaching me how to crush garlic with the mortar and pestle. Smashing things has never been so fun and you didn’t growl at me once! I think I could become a Master Squasher. And not just of your boobs.
Which, speaking of boobs, I still miss my boobies. I am pleased that you don’t scream anymore when I thrust my freezing cold hand down your top. Sometimes I just have to make sure they are still there, you know? I wish I could still have boobies, but you have told me that there is no milk left and I believe you. Truly, I do.
Daddy thinks I am starting to swear, but I am actually saying ‘Sit!’. I’m not quite sure why it comes out as ’shit!’ though.
Everything I do and say contains and exclaimantion mark after it.
‘I sit!’
‘I Hungeeee!’
‘Dink?!’
‘Mummeeee!’
But I know you forgive me because I am just so damn cute. Your words not mine.
So anyway, to finish up (because I am getting very very sleepy here), I just wanted to say that I love you Mummy. Especially when you are busy. Especially when you need to pee.
Love, Amy.
xxx
Weekly Winners!
I know, I haven’t participated in Lotus’s Weekly Winners for a while, so here is my contribution. Also, Happy Mothers day!
Running.
The first time she fell asleep without me holding her in AGES. WOO! Not that we aren’t still having sleep issues though.
The river. I took this from the car as we drove across the bridge.
Amy wondered of she would fit in the bin. I wondered if it was wrong to contemplate throwing her out.
FINALLY! MUAHAHAHAHA.
So Many Things To Do With Blocks
Wooden building blocks have to be THE BEST toys ever. There are so many things you can do with them.
Stuck for ideas? Never fear! That’s why I am here.
1- You can stack them. (Hey, don’t you DUH me. Yes, you in the back. I heard you. Shush.) Then you can knock them over. Then you can stack them. Then you can knock tham over. FOR HOURS.
2- You can build Teddy a house. Then you can play EARTHQUAKE and knock teddys house over. (Teddy carnage cannot be shown due to the disturbing nature of the images.)
3- If you are a puppy, you can bury them. See?
4- Great for gaining an extra inch height. No, those aren’t my feet. Nathan’s feet are much prettier than mine, so he modelled for me.
5- You can spell inappropriate words. Leave messages for your partner in the kitchen. Hehe.
6- You can sit for ages while your toddler tells you what the pictures are.
‘Loooook! Doooog. Looook Mumeeee, TAT! Loooook! DOG! LOOOOOK TAT. MUMEEEEE LOOK!’
‘Yes sweetie a dog and a cat!’
7- Using a rolled newspaper, you can teach your daughter what to do when she see’s one of these. Clever girl learns fast.
Things not shown:
You can throw blocks at the dog. The dogs head goes CLONK when a block hits her. Poor puppy.
The blocks make for great booby traps at 2am when you are wandering through the house to go to the loo. A better use of blockage would be to booby trap the study where Nathan is busy playing computer. His feet are tougher than mine.
You can fill your glass of water with them. Or Mummy’s coffee. Or her bowl of soup. Really, they will bring up the level of just about any liquid substance. I like to think my daughter enjoys science. In reality, she just likes putting things in things.
You can drop them on Mummy when she is laying on the floor. Mummy’s head goes THONK when a block hits her. Then Amy runs away, shouting ‘Wun, wun, wun, JUMP!’ Yes, she does indeed know when it is smart to run.
All kinds of things blocks are good for…
I Only Just Heard
Thanks heaps to Trish from My Little Drummer Boys for posting about the Million Blogs List. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have heard about it for AGES.
So, thanks Trish.
What the creaters are trying to do is get One Million Blogs registered on their wiki-like site. I HIGHLY recommend heading over and getting your blog added to the list.
Schwackers - A Critique
I love the word schwacker. It just rolls off my tongue so nicely, schhhhhhhhwacker. Go on, say it out loud. You know you want to.
Schhhhhhwacker.
Anyway, since I have been running around like a mad women, desparately trying to schwack mice (mice=100 Veronica=0) I have begun to see the various pros and cons of schwackers.
Like this schwacker. This schwacker is actually a book. See? A David Eddings book to be precise. Nice and light, it has a good feel to it. Very nice weight and it makes a good SCHWACK sound when you hit something with it (say, your husband when he is giving you the shits). I am hoping that the sound would turn into more of a SCHWOMP when I actually manage to hit a mouse. Then I worry about mouse bits getting stuck to the cover…
However, with Nathan being so anti-clutter, I regularly find myself chasing mice without my handy David Eddings book.
In cases like those, anything will do as a schwacker.
Take my shoe for example. It wasn’t my first schwacker and it probably isn’t the schwacker of choice. It was the one I picked up when I hadn’t yet discovered the David Eddings book. It makes more of a THIMP sound when you schwack something with it.
I’m not sure anything that made a thimp sound would suitably stun a mouse to be honest.
Now, here we have the wooden woman model of schwacker. I grabbed her off the bench when the mice were partying in the dog food the other night.
She has a lovely curve to the back of her shoulders and I doubt very much that a mouse would be running away after being hit with this baby.
She also has wonderful handle like legs. Great for holding. When you hit her on something she makes a lovely THWACK sound.
Isn’t she pretty?
She cracks nuts too apparently. Between her legs. Trust my partner to have something like this. However I will forgive her all her sins if I can use her to kill mice. Heh.
I don’t imagine a flyswatter would be much good for schwacking mice, do you?
However, I suppose if that was all you had to hand and you wielded it hard enough and fast enough (oh, there are so many jokes I could make about now…) it *might* work.
I wouldn’t count on it to do much more than annoy the mouse. And annoyed mice are vicious mice, so make sure to sleep with your toes tucked tightly under the covers. Mice are great ones for revenge.
Just sayin’.
Also? I really wouldn’t recommend schwacking with a slice of bread. It *may* have the right shape and size, but a slice of bread is really not going to make a good schwacker. Well, unless you glue it to a piece of wood. Then it might work.
Maybe.
Now, personally, this would make a great schwacker, ESPECIALLY if you tied it to a broom handle. A little unwieldy, but practise makes perfect, right?
I can just imagine it, SHCWAP! SCHWAP! as the mouse tried to run away.
Perfect for those people who are scared of mice.
You could even get really bloodthirsty and stick thumbtacks to the paddle bit. Then no matter how softly you hit the mouse, he wouldn’t be getting away. Yup, I am a little bit evil. Shhhhhh.
A tennis racket would make a great schwacker, but please, don’t hit the mouse too hard. You don’t want mousey bits to ooze up through the holes. No, really, you don’t.
My advice? If you use a tennis racket, then make sure you don’t schwack the living daylights out of the mouse.
Yes, the idea is to kill the mouse, but not to mangle it! Sheesh! Ask yourself, do you really want to clean mouse guts out of the carpet, lino, tennis racket? Really?
However, of all the schwackers I have looked at today, this one must be the best.
It would be the biggest, hardiest schwacker that I have seen. I wants it. I needs it. I could kill 10 mice at a time with it.
Look, isn’t it beautiful?
IMAGINE HOW MANY MICE WOULD DIE IF I COERCED THEM TO SIT UNDERNEATH IT AND THEN DROPPED IT ON THEIR HEADS!
Many many mice.
Pity that I wouldn’t be able to lift it. Or get it through my doors. Or you know, even get close to dropping it on them.
Damn mice.
*****
I promise, unless the mice kidnap me tonight, I will have something other than mice and shcwackers to talk about tomorrow.
Mouse Skin Blankets
So, mice have soft fur….
…And I was thinking, since I am such a bloodthirsty killer, I could totally make a mouse skin blanket out of mice that I kill with my schwacker.
But, see, mice are dirty. So I would have to wash the skins first.
My plan?
1 - Schwack a mouse. Maybe do some reflex training so that I am actually fast enough to schwack the mouse. So far my schwacker remains completely clean of mouse blood. So does my conscience.
2 - Keep the mouse comatose, but not dead. Give mouse a bath, along with shampoo to make it nice and clean.
3 - Carefully dry the comatose mouse (maybe I need some mouse chloroform to keep it asleep?) and fluff their fur appropriately.
4 - Sharpen my very good, very sharp boning knife. Sharpen it to really really really fucking sharp.
5 - Kill mouse humanely. Maybe with a hammer blow to the head. Very quick and as the mouse is asleep (see above for mouse chloroform), very humane.
6 - Cut mouse’s head off, trying (and I guess failing) to keep blood away from the fur. Make an incision along the stomach and back legs and using the knife carefully peel the skin off.
7 - Feed left over mouse bits to the cats. Hope that this will teach the cats to catch mice so that I don’t have to do it for them.
8 - Make sure the mouse skin is clean of flesh and carefully peg it out to dry (use drawing pins). Refer to handheld manual, ‘How To Dry Mouse Skins For Use As A Blanket’ (albeit a very small blanket. More of a mouse warning sign).
9 - Make sure skin stays nice and dry for the next few weeks.
10 - Repeat x150 to get enough skins to sew together.
11 - Make sure the remaining alive mice see the mouse-skin blanket at every opportunity. Taunt them with it until they fuck off forever.
Hopefully by about mouse #5, the cats will have gotten the idea and I won’t have to schwack so many of them. (The mice, not the cats) Maybe I will even recruit the cats to hand me dead, pre-washed (read: licked) mice for me to skin for them.
Oh the possibilities…
**************
Also, I am totally sucking in the voting, so please, if you haven’t voted for me please can you? You can find the poll here. Maybe you could even get your husband, sister, best friend to vote for me.
Big shout out to Marie who posted about the voting on her blog. She is my favourite person now.
Alien Abductions?
My hairbrush is missing and the only thing I can think of is Alien Abduction.
I mean, it is entirely plausible for a shipload of Aliens to float down to earth while I am busy and abduct my hairbrush.
Right?
What definitely in no way could possibly have happened would be a Toddler Abduction. A toddler abducting my hairbrush? DON’T BE SILLY. That would NEVER HAPPEN.
No matter that the hairbrush went missing right after I brushed Amy’s hair and made her scream. Right after she looked at the hairbrush and told me it was a ‘Bad bad bad NO HURTS ME!’ naughty hairbrush implement of TORTURE AND DEATH.
No, the Aliens totally took it.
Wanna know why?
See, I have this theory. Mothers will agree with me; aliens all over the world are RIGHT NOW carrying out ‘Operation Hairbrush Removal’ from the bathrooms/bedrooms/toy boxes of sleep deprived women.
They plan to test our DNA and work out why we can cope with many nights of teething, puke, screaming, crying and NOT SLEEPING, when our hairier, stronger counterparts tend to fall apart a little bit. I think it is the sleep that gets the men in the end.
[I have to add, there are some men completely cut out for puke and sleepless nights and those men had better lock their hairbrushes up, because damn if those Aliens won't want to test their DNA too]
The only other reason I can think of for an Alien abducting my hairbrush, is that said Alien is on a mission to make all women look like haystacks. That way, their husbands won’t want to have sex with them and then, when they move onto abducting people, they won’t complain half as much about the probing.
But that is just my theory.
What do you think?
Vote for Me? PLEASE?
Dear readers,
My name is Veronica and I have a problem.
It is only a small problem and you, dear reader are completely able to solve this problem for me.
See, I entered this competition with a post of mine.
Now, I need people to vote for me.
I entered last time Top School Fundraisers had a competition too, only I didn’t have any readers that I could beg for votes then.
So please, vote for me here?
Please? It is in a handy dandy little poll box and all you have to do is click next to my name.
Click.
I will be forever grateful and humble and you look so pretty today! Honest. And there will be love. Lots of love (in a good way, not an icky way, promise. Unless you like icky….)
[A return to my regular program is scheduled for this evening, feel free to return then if you don't want to vote. Meanie]
Are The Mice Plotting?
I was sitting on the couch last night, happily blogging and writing emails and OH MY FREAKING GOD, was that just a MOUSE?? SKITTERING PAST MY FEET INTO THE KITCHEN?!
Visions of the other night rattle around in my head.
I think. I am very good at thinking. No, my brain wasn’t playing tricks on me. Yes it was a mouse and it is now IN MY KITCHEN!
Sneakily, I do my Sneaky McSneakerson thing and sneak into the kitchen, book in hand to use as a schwacker. The mouse is nowhere to be seen. I move shoes, the rubbish bin, the dog food container, nothing.
No mouse to be seen.
I sit back down, ready to finish reading and I hear it. Nibbling noises in the kitchen.
NIBBLING.
Just as I am about to get up and look, a SECOND mouse runs past. TWO MICE! IN MY KITCHEN!
I stand up.
I sneak. I can still hear the mouse nibbling. I am stealthy and silent. I am one with the floor.
I am hoping like hell I don’t step on a mouse in bare feet.
My schwacker and I slide around the corner….
And discover an empty kitchen.
AGAIN!
Fucking McFuckerton Fucker Mice Fuckers.
[Heh, I wonder if I will get googled for mice fuckers now]
Arghhhhhhh!
I can just see the mice, running laps around the house, just to watch me EXPLODE.
Mouse A. ‘Alrighty guys, I will run out there and let her see me. Once she has seen me, I will disappear back here to you and Mouse B can do it’s thing’
Mouse B. ‘What do I do again?’
(audible sigh)
Mouse A. ‘You run into the giant-space-that-is-empty, past the big-pink-thing-that-moves-and-swears and seriously, how do those things cope without FUR? I mean, really?’
‘…Anyway, past the pink-moving-thing, under the big-white-box-that-is-cold, over to the big-bag-of-mouse-heaven, grab some heavenly food, climb the tall thing and run over to the hole. Then come back here to us. We will take turns until the big-pink-thing-with-strange-fur explodes’
Mouse B. ‘Okay then, who goes first?’
[audible sigh]
(It is here that I start to suspect that Mouse B is stupid and deserves to die)
(Actually they all deserve to die)
Mouse A. ‘Any other questions?’
Mouse B. ‘Uh yes, um when do I…..’
Mouse A. ‘Any OTHER questions?’
[Mouse silence]
Mouse A. ‘Okay we will begin. Word of advice though? DO NOT ALLOW YOURSELVES TO BE SCHWACKED, SMUSHED, SQUISHED, SQUASHED, SMOOSHED, OR TRODDEN ON.’
‘Everyone clear?’
[Noises of mouse agreeing]
Mouse A. ‘Okay then! Off we go…..’
See? The mice ARE plotting. I am totally not going insane. Yet.
Little Ray of Sunshine.
I have been down lately.
Very down.
We didn’t try and conceive this month, despite me knowing when I was ovulating. We just, didn’t try. I am still grieving for the loss of hope a little.
However, not having the build up to my period will be nice. Knowing that I HAVE to stock up on tampons, rather than run out at 3am and silently curse the gods (and then curse Nathan when I realise that he no longer has a mobile phone and I can’t ring him to PICK ME UP SOME DAMN TAMPONS OR MY PMS? WILL KILL YOU AND I WON’T BE RESPONSIBLE).
Ahem.
However, I seem to have this small child who just won’t let me wallow.
See, I was all sad (again, lets just blame it on hormones and feeling grief for friends) about not trying this month and OMG a whole bunch of stuff and Amy climbed into my lap.
She started singing, ‘Mummeeeee holda babeeeeee, mummeeeeeee an babeeeeeee’ very softly as I hugged her.
Then she pulled my head down, so my cheek was against her forehead, and told me quite sternly when I tried to move ‘No! Mummeee hugss pleas.’
Then I died from the cute.
Then she does things like this -
She is OBVIOUSLY practising her regal look for when she marries a prince. Thankyou Nathan for taking this photo while I was out, getting a much needed sanity saving break. <3
This one is classic though. This was taken this evening. At 9.30pm. 1.5 hours AFTER I put Amy to bed.
Yes, those are indeed a pair of my underwear. Yes, she did indeed put them on herself. The pointing? She was asking to be placed back into bed, WHILE STILL WEARING THE UNDERWEAR.
No, I didn’t let her keep them on.
No, I have no idea why they were in her cupboard.
This afternoon when I had to resettle her, I discovered her wearing a size 000 bodysuit around her waist and 2 singlets on each leg. I think it is time I did some serious teaching of what clothes go where.
And how to put them away after you pull them out of the drawer.
I love my daughter.
Children For Sale
I was searching for a book I read as a kid, when I needed to press the back button.
It was so good, I had to take a screenshot.
Is that where all the children actually come from? Oztion?
Damn, and all this time I thought it was The Stork.
[Sorry about the picture quality. Resizing the image seemed to mess it up]
A Mouse Schwacking We Will Go.
I was sitting in the bedroom this afternoon, talking to Nathan and I could hear a strange sound. First, I thought it was my ear popping. Then I thought that something I was sitting on was crinkling. Then I asked Nathan if he could hear it.
He looked at me like I was stupid and said ‘Hear what?’.
Much listening ensued and FINALLY, a noise, when Nathan was listening.
I moved myself (stealthily) to the corner of the bedroom, where a bunch of clothes were piled on the floor (remember, I have no drawers yet). I slowly started moving things when SUDDENLY! JUST AS I SUSPECTED! There was A MOUSE!
Now said mouse was actually a field mouse and oh my fucking god can those things run fast. I quickly threw a bowl upside down on top of it’s head to trap it (yes, there is a bowl in the bedroom. I regularly get late night nausea and getting out of bed is never my idea of a good time. Therefore I keep a bowl handy just in case. Yes, it does get thrown up in on occasion and yes, it does get washed regularly) and BAM! It was stuck.
Or so I (stupidly) thought.
Nathan handed me a bit of cardboard to slide under the bowl, so that we could move the mouse out to where the cats were.
I slid the cardboard… and oh my fucking god can field mice run fast. They can also squeeze through a tiny freaking gap.
It moved almost faster than I could see, out of the bedroom, into the hall and under the sheet I keep on Amy’s gate (the sheet is tied around the gate to stop Seven bothering Amy at 3am, or crapping in the bedroom).
I held my bowl ready to be used as a schwacker as I moved the sheet, very very slowly.
ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Went the mouse as it zipped past me and I cursed my sleepless reflexes.
I chased it just in time to watch it disappear under the recliner. I haven’t run that fast in ages.
Now, I was all for throwing the recliner across the lounge room so that I could schwack the damn mouse, but Nathan moved it slowly slowly (much too slowly for me, as I hopped up and down impatiently).
And there was no mouse left. We did however, find the hole that the mouse disappeared into.
Where were that cats, that I have been purposly keeping hungry just for this purpose? Um, they were in the kitchen. Looking for food. While I, A HUMAN, tried to chase down their mouse for them.
*****
Cue 3 hours later and I am sitting here writing emails and comments.
ZIP ZIP ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A mouse flies (okay, so it didn’t really fly, but goddamn was it fast) out of our bedroom and disappears under a bag of clothing set aside for the Salvos.
I screech at Nathan to get a cat, any cat, JUST GET A DAMN CAT, while I stand by the bag, ready to stomp (I’m not sure how I would have gone, I had bare feet) on any mouse trying to poke it’s nose out from underneath.
Nathan appears with a cat and I whisk the bag away as Nathan drops the cat, DIRECTLY ON THE MOUSE.
Now in it’s defence, said cat is still a kitten and she has probably never seen a mouse before. STILL you would think that she would do something other than look at us with a stupid expression while the mouse shimmied into a crack and disappeared.
Stupid ass cat.
So now, Nathan and I have a plan.
We are each going to hold a schwacker (one of my shoes) while we slowly and steadily pick up items of clothing in our bedroom. There is a very good chance we may turn up a third mouse.
In the event that we find a mouse (and god damn, we better find a mouse) we are going to schwack it on the head UNTIL IT IS DEAD.
Then we are going to defile it’s dead body (please don’t tell the UN) by tying a string to it and teaching the kittens how to catch, kill and eat mice.
We figure they need the lesson.
I shall be back to report shortly. Like as soon as Amy goes to sleep and I can get into my bedroom without her seeing me through the doorway.
*****
Total letdown. No mice to schwack in the bedroom, not even a skitter or a scurry. The UN would be pleased. I however am not.
I even had my piece of string ready.
They better be careful though, because I am ready for them.
Until then, maybe mice are just attracted to me?
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Want to know if Marie is having a boy or a girl??? Click here to follow the trail!
And you know, I am not averse to extra comment love…
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My Favourite Teachers
TopSchool Fundraisers is having a competition and they invited me to enter. The topic is ‘Your Favourite Teacher’. This post is written in repsonse to that.
My Favourite Teachers.
Dad,
You taught me to tie knots that won’t come undone, showed me how to straighten a nail, how to use a hammer (without bashing my fingers), a drill and a level. How to tie a plumb line and how to mix mortar. Taught me to cook a ‘One Pot Wonder’ (lamb chops and layers of vegetables, with gravy, all cooked in one pan) and how to eat wallaby tails in a stew.
You showed me that any cut can be fixed with electrical tape and more work, even if it did really need stitches. (No, it wasn’t my cut, it was his)
Because of you, I can snare, kill and skin a rabbit ( I may possibly need a refresher lesson soonish though), I can bait a fish hook with worms (even if the worms do wiggle alarmingly), or grubs, or grasshoppers. I can land and gut fish (even if I excersise my right to have you gut them for me), I can cook them on an open fire and I can eat them without choking on bones (always a handy trait, that whole not choking thing) and the one time I did swallow the bones, you showed me that NOT freaking out is a good idea. (If you ever swallow bones and they get stuck, eat pieces of bread. The bread will shift the bones).
He taught me to tell when edges weren’t straight (by letting me pick faults with his building) and how to play the guitar (I really needed to practise more). How to put up a tent and split wood.
You showed me that life and death were intertwined as we raised animals for you to slaughter. I learned not to be a squeamish girl (I never got a chance to be one) as I watched you prepare animals for the table.
You let me hold the torch (very badly) as we went looking for possums in the trees and I learned that possums eyes flash red at night (and that all possums should die die DIE).
You even showed me that I wouldn’t melt in the rain (do you want to give Amy some lessons?) and that blackberry scratches will heal. You showed me how to spin for trout and how to carry the fish while it was still wiggling (your exact words? - DO NOT DROP THE FISH. You could have showed me the stick trick earlier, heh.).
Thankyou.
Mum taught me to read and write (and then got exasperated when I pinched the books she was reading and spent all my time with my nose in a book, rather than doing my chores). She taught me to count and tie my shoelaces and grow radishes (in the shape of a big V). She taught me to make my scones light and airy, to make muffins from scratch, pancakes from flour and water, and a meal from nothing (all very handy skills).
She taught me to find and catch frogs and lizards, what wild orchids lood like and how to climb a tree. She showed me mud puddles and how to make a pinch pot from clay.
She found frogspawn and let me take some in a jar to school, even though it probably killed her to watch her babies diappear off to a school, where children could KILL THEM BY ACCIDENT. We got to watch the tadpoles hatch from their eggs and grow into frogs.
She taught me to budget and cook and how to be happy. She taught me to light a fire and to cook a meal on top of it.
She showed me how to raise a baby joey in a pouch (yes, we did have a pet wallaby for a while. Eventually she disappeared back into the bush of her own accord. Someday I will find photos) and how to perform basic first aid on an animal.
She taught me that it was indeed possible not to kill your children, no matter how annoyingly whiny they are being (teaching by example).
Thanks Mum.
I think at the end of the day, what I learned at home was so much more important to my life now, that anything I learned in school.
It was my mother who was anal about spelling and grammar and made me say perfect, rather than perfickt and ask rather than arks, my father who showed me what good maths can do (learned on a plank of wood, as we worked out measurements for the new bedrooms) and how to put it into a real life situation.
I learned so much from my parents. More than I ever did from inside a classroom (and I was a straight A student).
How To Share Your Kitchen and NOT DIE!
A while back I asked for post ideas. Barbara suggested that I do a post about how to juggle a Toddler and a hot pan of food at the same time. I thought about it, but didn’t really have anything spectacular because we had a gate across the kitchen.
Then, disaster struck. Nathan tripped over the gate while carrying a box full of firewood. One (1) bruised head and big mess later, our gate was broken (into very very small pieces I might add).
Now, until we get a newer, shinier, BETTER AND UNBREAKABLE gate, I am forced to share the kitchen with Amy. So I will walk you through a day, from breakfast to dinner, of sharing the kitchen with a toddler, sharp knives, hot kettles, cups of tea and everything in the cupboards.
HOW TO SHARE YOUR KITCHEN AND NOT DIE.
-BREAKFAST-
1) Rescue toddler from her PRISON, and fix her OMG MUMMY I AM IMPRISONED cries. Snuggle the toddler in your own bed for a few minutes. Try to doze off. Release toddler as she requests ‘Mum-eeeee, Ima wanna go dooooown noooooow’.
2) Listen to the toddler noises in the lounge room as you try very hard not to doze back off. Figure that as long as there is noise you are probably safe to stay in bed. Freak out as soon as you hear silence and head to investigate.
3) Discover the toddler SITTING on the bench eating the butter with her hands. Clean up the mess, clean up the toddler and set her free.
4) Get the toaster out of the cupboard as the toddler hangs off your legs. Try and hunt down the bread, only to discover that the toddler had played with the bread before moving on to the butter. Try and rescue a few slices of bread in order to toast.
5) Burn your fingers as you remove toast from the toaster. Try to remove toddler from your legs as you butter the toast. Fail miserably and walk around the kitchen sporting the NEWEST IN KITCHEN ACCESSORIES! A TODDLER!
6) Successfully butter and cheese the toast. Cut, and place on highchair table. Chase toddler around the lounge room and finally manage to capture her. Place in front of toast and take a breather.
-LUNCH-
Lunch is never really a big deal here as Amy tend to nap about midday. I try and give her a sandwich before she naps and then a piece of fruit or a sandwich or whatever when she wakes up.
However, cup of tea time (which is whenever I feel like it) is a big more complex than it sounds.
-CUP OF TEA TIME-
1) Remove toddler from the kitchen BEFORE you start. Fill the kettle with cold water and turn on.
2) Remove toddler from the kitchen. Grab yourself a mug and a teabag. Ummmm, discover that the toddler has nicked all the teabags and they are now strategically placed around the house. Find spare teabags in the cupboard that AREN’T covered in toddler and dog drool.
3) Place sugar and teabag into your mug. Remove toddler from kitchen, cursing more than you should, as she tries to pull a glass of (cold) water onto her head (she can’t actually reach the kettle thank goodness).
4) Reboil the kettle as everything above has taken 30 minutes and the water has cooled.
5) Finally get the mug, teabag, sugar and hot water in the same place as the same time. Fill the mug with hot water and FREAK OUT as the toddler tips the sugar bowl all over her face, shoulders, floor, couch and bench. Set the hot mug aside where the toddler can’t reach it (the stove top is a good place) and find the vacuum cleaner.
6) Discover that the vacuum cleaner is full. Leave the toddler inside while you run outside and empty the vacuum. Come back inside to discover the toddler sitting on the bench, tearing up teabags and sprinkling the contents everywhere.
7) Thank God that you have the vacuum cleaner handy. Vacuum everything while you have the chance.
8.) Remember your cup of tea brewing. Check and discover that it is stone cold. Wonder briefly just how much time has elapsed.
9) Repeat above steps until you finally get to add milk to an at least warm cup of tea. Proceed to have to share the entire cup with the toddler.
-DINNER-
1) Prep vegetables. Try not to slice toddler fingers off as she tries to pinch vegies while you are still trying to cut them. Swear more than you should.
2) Prep meat (tonight we had steak, so I am working on the premise that we are all cooking steak). Use your very-sharpest-possible-commercial-kitchen-quality knife. (Yes, it is really a commercial kitchen quality knife, it is my baby. I adore my 2 good knives) Freak out as the toddler tries to eat the raw fat that you just gave the cats.
3) Heat the grill and place meat under the grill. Remove toddler from the kitchen. Place prepped veg into various pots and pans with water/butter/whatever.
(PLOP CRASH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA BARK BARK BARK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHH!)
4) Pick up (screaming like her life is OVER) toddler and try to comfort her, while simultaneously sauteing a pan of bok choy in butter. Turn and baste steak, while still holding sobbing toddler. Check the cookedness (that is now a word) of the carrots while still holding a screaming sobbing boob grabbing toddler.
5) Wonder how the holy hell I do this every night.
6) Put toddler down (in her highchair is preferable) and race back to your pans on vegies. Quickly baste steak to prevent burning and turn around to encounter….a whining, hungry, clinging, unhappy toddler who wants to be picked up.
7) Place toddler back on floor and do your best to drain carrots, finish sauteing, and make sure the steak is cooked. Dodge toddler while moving around the kitchen with boiling water and carrots and THINGS.
8.) Dump a few cooked carrots onto the highchair table, thus buying your self a few (only a few, mind) moments to dish up dinner. Cut toddlers food up into itty bitty bits and place on her special toddler plate, on her special toddler highchair table.
9) Sit down to eat, just as the toddler slithers out of her highchair, having eaten nothing. Try and eat as the toddler stands in front of you with her mouth WIDE open, practising being a baby bird. Alternately feed yourself and toddler your plate of dinner.
DONE!
Now, does this scenario sound familiar to anyone else? Hehe.
What I didn’t add in was all the cuteness. The ‘Mum-eeee I dink peeeeas!’ and ‘Peaaas, neeeeed food’ and ‘Tiss! Tiss!’ as she leaned up for a kiss. Very cute.
And hey, soon enough I can make her help me prep dinner!
Test.
Test! EEEEK!
