Drivetime Musings

I overheard an interesting discussion in the car on the way home from the supermarket. (where I may or may not have purchased packaged rubbish for dinner tonight!)

It was about fish fingers. And where they came from. Tubby was adamant they came from fish, mushed up and frozen in big blocks and the cut into finger-shaped pieces.

The Rabbit and Pants argued vehemently that they were from fish with fingers, which were removed and crumbed and sold as fish fingers.

(At this point I should explain that perhaps the most responsible and mature thing for a parent to do would be to intervene and guide a discussion on sea creatures, anatomy of a fish and the processing of our food. I find it infinitely more entertaining and amusing to turn the radio off and listen intently - I LOVE where these discussions go!
One time (some years ago) I quietened the music on the way to church, to listen to a game of "Rock, Paper, Scissors" between Tubby and the Rabbit. Tubby was winning continually and I was curious as to how the Rabbit would react to this, and if Tubby would realise he needed to make some allowances for his younger brother.
I need not have worried, as shortly thereafter I overheard the regular "Rock, paper SCISSORS!!" followed immediately by Tubby exclaiming "WHAT is THAT meant to be??!"

I glanced into the rear view mirror to see the Rabbit grinning proudly, with his pointer fingers formed into a cross kind of shape.
"I win" he declared "This is Jesus. He beats everything!" )


So, back to the in-car discussion regarding the origins of fish fingers.
Which had moved on to other varieties of seafood. Some of which, if you have a speech delay, prove to be difficult to pronounce and comprehend.
Tubby and the Rabbit tried and tried, through their hysterics, to explain to Pants that they were CRAB balls, and were not little balls of poop, rolled up in crumbs. Even if they DID sound like "crap balls" when Pants said it!

And then of course Tubby wondered aloud if fish lost their fingers to make fish fingers, what part of the crab was removed to make crab balls............

And then someone mentioned prawn cocktails, and I turned the music up very VERY loudly!!

More Mother's Day Shenanigans!

Dinner time in our house is never predictable. Some days it is a quiet, solemn affair with everyone tucking into the meal and not even pausing to chat. Other days it's as you'd expect for a family meal - various conversations and verbal games occurring, some giggling and laughter and the regular protests of "But this is yuck!" and "I don't liiiiike it!". And more frequently than I'd like, it is noisy and crazy and the dining room becomes a chaotic jumble of laughter, chatter, shouting, kicking, peas, mash and visits to the Time Out spot!

For Mother's Day we really indulged and had KFC. Pants had seen an ad on television for "Mum's Banquet" and because the TV man said it would be perfect for Mum on Mother's Day, it would, of course, be perfect for Mum on Mother's Day.
And it included chocolate brownies.

So KFC it was. We brought our bucket of chicken home and sat down around our table. (Can I say even the concept of a "bucket of chicken " is wrong. Why would anyone need an entire bucket of chicken? Why not just a slightly larger box? Or tray? Why a bucket?!)

As we enjoyed the Colonel's secret recipe - which appeared to be predominantly a thick orange layer of batter stuck to the skelton of a dead chook - I mentioned that when I was a child, there was a rumour doing the rounds that KFC had used something other than chicken at times. I asked the kids to guess what it might have been, and told them the animal in question started with "R".
They guessed rats, roosters and rhinoceros before giving in and I told them it was rabbit. And likely to be untrue, and that their dinner was safe, and no this wasn't rabbit, and I knew because KFC are not allowed to sell rabbit and call it chicken and yes I was sure and now that they mention it I have no idea WHY I thought it was a good idea to share that little snippet from my childhood!

In a desperate effort to distract them, I suggested a game called "What's the Colonel Deep Frying THIS Time?". We took turns to think of an animal to "kentucky fry", give the starting letter to the others and then wait for someone to guess.

The Honey Girl is in Prep, and is reading beautifully but sometimes forgets or mixes up her letters. Her turns were a little challenging because I had to point out that while I appreciate her efforts to write the letter in the air with her finger - or indeed the entire word - I am not familiar with hieroglyphics and had no freaking idea WHAT she was attempting to write as a starting letter!

Pants was similarly challenging, as he has some speech challenges which sometimes slightly alter what he *thinks* is the starting letter, and what the actual starting letter is! "KFT" was, of course, Kentucky Fried Trocodile! And he was pretty dirty that we didn't get it!

When my turn came around, I thought they'd find Kentucky Fried Tarantula amusing. I'd recently seen a TV program where some children from a jungle village were out hunting for their version of takeaway - giant hairy spiders that were captured, killed and roasted on an open fire. Ever the parent-teacher, I thought my effort might lead to an interesting cultural lesson.

Instead, the game got way out hand. As he waited for his younger siblings to guess what the "T" stood for, Tubby started to giggle to himself. Had I glanced to see his face I'd have known immediately that his pre-teen mind was someplace it should not be and may have had a chance to salvage the game by redirecting his responses to appropriate suggestions that were of the animal kind. Instead, I asked him what was so funny.

"Kentucky Fried Todgers" he burst out with, and the table dissolved into giggles.
On his next turn, he almost turned purple in an attempt to control his laughter until he had blurted out "Kentucky Fried Turds" ... and the table dissolved into raucous laughter.

It took some serious threats, and some plate-clearing, dishwasher-stacking and teeth-brushing activities to regain control and make a final attempt to continue the game until everyone had had a turn.

In the interests of ensuring everyone feels content and involved, we occasionally stack the odds a little in such games. Especially towards the younger two players, who battle speech and literacy issues to participate and require a little extra assistance to respond correctly.

On one particular round everyone knew what the answer was, but it was Pant's turn to guess.
"It starts with G" Tubby reminded him
"It lives in Africa" the Rabbit offered
"It's got a loooong neck" the Honey Girl added, and we all stretched our necks up for Pants to see

He still looked puzzled, so we started to dance around the kitchen in a conga-line, singing "Melman Melman Melman!" (from the movie "Madagscar", in case you're wondering how often my family spontaneously conga-line around the kitchen for no real reason!)

Suddenly Pants' face lit up, his eyes showed clear recognition and he started jumping up and down in his seat in excitement.
"I know! I know!" he shouted "It's gorilla!!!"

*sigh*

When we'd finally got the boy to utter the magic words "giraffe", we congratulated him on his efforts and moved on.
It was the Rabbit's turn next, and he had run out of superhero animals (we'd done kentucky fried bat, kentucky fried spider etc etc) He'd decided on shark this time, and while we all knew what the answer was, it was the Honey Girl's turn to guess.

Being the caring and kind big brother that he is, the Rabbit tried hard to give his little sister a good chance. He started to "swim" around the kitchen, with his teeth bared and snapping and his arms above his head forming a very obvious dorsal fin.
His sister still looked a little unsure so he began to hum the Jaws theme (I have NO idea how he knows the Jaws theme, I might add!) He got louder and louder and more and more shark-like and fierce, until he "swam" up and stopped, with a snap of his teeth, in front of her.

The Honey Girl eyed him closely, raise one eyebrow and asked "Snail?"

At about this point it came to my attention that the Boombah was no longer participating in the game, and was suddenly nappy-free and coming from the direction of my bedroom.
I scrambled up from the table and ran towards my room demanding the toddler tell me if he "wa-hooed in Mummy's room? We don't wa-hoo on Mummy's bed, ok? You can wa-hoo in the toilet, but no wa-hooing in Mummy's bed!"

Again, my children dissolved into fits of giggles and I found myself wondering what on earth these small people have DONE to me, that I'd have not only spent my evening in such a way but that I had enjoyed it as much as they had.

And where on earth the word "wa-hoo" had come from, and why my children thought it related to bodily functions??!



B is for "Blessed".
Or Bampire Bat, apparently.

Or boobie, but we're not allowed to go there!

Why My Kids Rock!

A few years ago, the Rooster suggested that he might like to try a fly in/fly out job in, say Africa, where he was at work for 6 - 8 weeks and then home for about 4.

Ever the supportive and optimistic wife, I promptly suggested back that if he ever did such a thing, he could save his employers the cost of the "fly out" part, because I'd change the locks while he was away and there'd be no need to "come home" at all.


Fast forward a few years and here it is, Mother's Day 2011.And the Rooster is at work. In Africa. Where he has been for the last 4 months.

He's a smart man. He knew all along that if he left me at home alone with 6 children, I'd be so busy changing nappies, car seat arrangements and various appointments, I'd never get around to the locks! Instead, we count the sleeps til he is home and make arrangements to meet his flight when it arrives, at 6am, on the other side of the city.
I DID say I was supportive and optimistic!

And so for these last few years I've been teaching and training my children in the ways of spoiling and treating Mum. I figure even if it doesn't kick in for a few more years, I'll end up with a pile of gifts and 6 different breakfasts in bed before I am 50!

Preparation for Mother's Day without Dad here to guide and direct them involves planning and military precision. First we visit a department store. Sometimes I think I should call the chosen shop in advance, to warn them of the impending onslaught.
Have you ever taken 6 excited children to Kmart and let them loose to select a gift for Mum?
Well let me tell you : they scatter. Quickly. One to the women's clothing, another to the electrical, another to the DVDs and games, someone else to tip out half the bottles of perfumes and yet another in search of the fluffiest, pinkest and biggest slippers available.

It may sound a little carefree; perhaps even a little dangerous, to let my children roam free in a large department store but let me assure you, it is perfectly safe. Because of that planning and military precision I mentioned earlier.
Once they have scattered to their various locations, I peruse the books, thoughtfully placed right by the front door. I scan titles, grab something I'd like to read and keep an eye on the door for any escapees who suddenly decide Kmart is too down-market for their tastes and want to try their pocket money power at the nearby jewellers!

When I'm sure there are no returns, I head for the predetermined (unknown to the children but this is how it works) meeting point. My children all have a radar when it comes to department stores - for the toy section! There's a strong, undeniable pull for each of them. Wherever they start, whatever route they take, the destination is ALWAYS the toy section! Perhaps it is some kind of side effect from our constant immersion in Star Wars - some version of "the Force"!

And usually by the time I arrive there, so have they. Once they see me, there's a scuttle to hide various boxes and fabrics and packages behind their backs. Have you ever seen a 2 year old try to hide a giant box of chocolates behind his bag whilst simultaneously trying to open the packet and consume them!
And so we head to the checkout, and the sales assistant smiles while the children watch with wide eyes of excitement as their chosen items are scanned. And then I watch with wide eyes of dismay as the final total is charged to my credit card.

Well, the Rooster's credit card. But he's in Africa, remember?!!

Gifts are wrapped and hidden, and there are usually there are activities at school to prepare extra treats for Mum. This year the Honey Girl's class gave their Mums a foot spa and pedicure. Imagine - a class of excited 5 year olds, enthusiastically massaging their mother's feet with foot scrub. And then drying them, and applying "bum".
That's right - "bum". The Honey Girl excitedly announced she was using "bum" for my feet about 6 times, at the top of her voice, before I realised she meant BALM. I suspect she knew it was balm all along, but could not resist the urge to shout "BUM!" repeatedly in her classroom and not be reprimanded for it!
And then the teacher, bless her, had arranged for the children to paint their mother's toenails. Who needs exams and assessments to determine each child's level of hand-eye coordination and fine motor control, when you have assorted bottles of nail polish and obligated mothers with tolerant smiles plastered on their faces!

Fortunately for me, the Honey Girl has a well developed set of skills and her painting was restricted, mostly, to my toenails. Our choices in colour may differ a little but I can certainly say I left that afternoon feeling blessed, adored, special and .... bright!

Which brings us to today. And why my kids rock.
This morning before 6am, my perfect sleeper Gavin tarnished his sleep record and was wide awake. But the Honey Girl came in to check the time and noticed him, and so she lay with him and cuddled him to keep him quiet. When he began to stir and squeak, Tubby padded in quietly and stole him away so I could snooze a little. He returned the littlest one later, nappy and clothes changed, smiling and happy and ready for a feed.
And then I was bombarded with bags of gifts and homemade goodies and loads of cuddles, giggles and attention.

And the best bit? Last night I left this on the kitchen bench, in preparation for a yummy breakfast together.

And sometime this morning, while I slept, it magically transformed into this :





THAT is why my kids rocks!!

And so to each and every Mum today, I hope and pray you feel as blessed, as treasured and as special as I do - not because you have lots of nice stuff, but because you are surrounded by a family that truly does love you. Happy Mother's Day!


Now please excuse me while I engage in a wrestling match in order to secure at least one of my own chocolates before they are all devoured .......


A is for awesome! My child-minding, coffee-making Tubby; my pancake making, craft extraordinaire Rabbit; my chore-doing, super-cuddly Pants; my smiley, bright and texta-happy Honey Girl; my well-mannered, chocolate loving Boombah and my sound-sleeping, gummy-grinning Gavin. Blessed am I!