Bear and her Bruvva stayed with us in February while their Mum and Dad went to India for 2 weeks. (note : Belle clearly got the brains in our family - she was the one leaving a total of 7 children in one household and flying as far the heck away as she could get!)
So the Rooster and I survived 14+ days of utter chaos, sheer volume max and a regular and alarming disintigration of carefully planned schedules and routines.
I said "survived" - we may not have "thrived" or "excelled", but we survived.
And the Rooster has been squawking about getting that vasectomy ever since!
So, early on in the Giant Long Sleepover we set a few ground rules. With a baby, a toddler, 3 preschoolers and 2 schoolboys in the house Ground Rule # 1 involved Anger Management. And it was simple - you may be angry. you may feel mad. You may choose to kick, scream, shout, wave fists, swear and carry on like a pork chop, but you must do so in your room. I will not attempt to control your anger for you - that's your job - but I do not have to be subjected to it in my kitchen or lounge room or laundry.
If you want to be angry, be angry in your bedroom.
Actually aside from a few half-hearted attempts at insisting vegies were eaten before ice cream, and faecel matter belonged in the toilet preferably NOT via your hands ..... the anger one was the only rule we stuck by.
I explained this rule to each of the kids on Day 1. Mine already knew it pretty well - it's a standard rule for our house - but in the interests of us all beginning the Giant Sleepover on the same grounds, I explained it again.
When the Bear had her first major outburst, I walked her up to her room and gently explained that she was not locked in here, and she could be as cranky as she wanted. She just needed to finish being cranky up here in the bedroom, and then she could join us again.
So she did.
A few days later, things were beginning to get heated. That utter chaos I mentioned had set in and appeared to be here to stay. My laundry was overflowing, my bathrooms were swamped, toys spread from one end of our 2 acres to the other ........ it had overwhelmed me!
And as the Rooster was being particularly unhelpful on one occasion (I can't remember for certain but it's likely he made a crack about a "dry spell" or a wedding ring signalling the end of life as man knows it)
So, as all good women know how to do, I may have taken my frustrations out on him, and snapped. Maybe just a little. Maybe.
But I certainly did not go into a tirade, or even a lecture on the Rooster's personal version of "helping" me.
Because I did not get a chance. The minute I started, and that "I'm a little ticked off here" expression came over my face and into my voice (which often signals the growth of sound-proof material over the Rooster's ears and a blank look over his face while his mind happily wanders his dreamland where Gretsch guitars and Ice breaks wander the countryside freely) - the very MOMENT I began to warm to my subject, a little voice piped up :
"Bic? Bic! You said you can be angry if you want to but you need to do it in your bedroom.
Are you going to your bedroom now Bic?"
Oh I loved having Bear and Bruvva stay, even if she is quick witted and confident enough to pull me up in my own house, on my own rules!
Miss you Bear and Bruvva!
