Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Welcome term one..... Oh how I have missed you

I don't know about you..... but packing my kids lunchbox is a pain in the A hole. I lovingly cut the crusts off of their lovingly wrapped sandwiches... what? No I fricken don't, I slap some mono unsaturated and Vegemite onto two slices of brown, Then I whack in the piece of fruit that is not festering in the juices of a rotten nectarine an the bottom of my fruit bowl, and I randomly grab three things out of the brightly coloured boxes my children chucked in the shopping trolley, eat it and be glad. Or don't, and they usually don't.
I tried to tell them that if they didn't at least eat their sandwich and fruit, so they now return their lunchbox sandwich minus 2 bites and one bite missing from their apple.

I wasn't always so jaded...... I recall rolling out pieces of bread with a rolling pin topping them with chicken and salad and rolling them up into a spiral sushi style, chopping traffic light sticks of celery, carrot and capsicum. I cant keep that shit up..........
It didn't take me long to admit defeat, ... and lets be honest, the novelty wore off a bit and I am just not that organised, besides they still all came home, as cling wrapped as the morning I sent them.

let me paint you a picture....

Mornings in our house consist of me, running out to the clothesline chanting a little prayer to the powers that be that their school clothes that are still flapping away out there aren't wet... please just be a little bit damp... please just be a little bit damp....., I actually keep a rubber band on the end of my hair dryer for attaching socks, because they are never just a little bit damp.
Then there is me pulling the children out of bed by their feet screeching..."we are be late! with the emphasis on going,  in the hope that my wonderful croaky morning voice coupled with my equally rancid bottom of a birdcage morning breath might permeate their subconscious and actually get them moving.
I vowed to get more organised this year, and I was for one whole day.

Day two was an epic fail.

 One child tackled another resulting in the faintest smidgen of blood, requiring of course an immediate and urgent siren screech for a band aid. simultaneously.. our Oldest child was grumbling and on the verge of tears that his new school shirt was too big.
It is a little big but nothing he wont grow into in a matter of weeks with his track record, also he insists on wearing everything fourteen sizes too small with the collar turned up like some sort of deranged Elvis mental patient.

I tried my best to pacify him... " oh.. it is not,... nope.......  then oh well you know mum will shrink it with her superb washing abilities before long... no.... My left eyelid is twitching at this point and I said.. " you know what kid....(yeah, caus we are the Waltons now).. when I was younger, I wanted a pair of kepper pants to wear to school, and I never ever got them,.. I hated it at the time but I am very grateful now... because they look ridiculous... see where I am going with this?"
Groover looked back at me and said.."what are keppers?"
"Just Get In The Bloody Car!"
The car trip of silence and angry stares ended with two door slams, I resisted the urge to fang after them "back in my day" style and make them shut the door in a more appropriate manner, I was parked in a 2 minute kiss and go zone with a red Territory up my arse
I didn't feel like contributing more that the 600 odd dollars I have already, to our local councils -our lack of adequate infrastructure will become your financial burden- policy on parking fines.
It didn't matter... I was too pleased it was day 2 of term one.

Waving and grinning I drove away hanging the finger at the pushy bitch in the red Territory.

As I have Little PRH at home already, I have had at least one child at home for the past 12 years, and don't hate me, but I generally don't mind the school holidays.
 If I am to be completely honest though, I like the school holidays mostly and almost entirely because my day does not revolve around 9 to 3, I can usually manage to have at least an hours extra sleep and the boys are home so PRH is for a good chunk of the day... amused by the boys.
Smash is thankfully quite happy to man a barbie or push a pram with her, and Groovers expert DVD inserting and drink pouring skills are finely tuned and greatly appreciated.

These holidays?...... not so much.... I have become a little stagnant, Their shrill little voices singing songs of "muuuuu-um, He pushed me... give it back,....get out of my room,... he just called me a dobber and my favorite .... I'm telling, ......this pearler is guaranteed to be followed by some mythical tale of destruction and mutiny.
The utter chaos devouring every toy filled space, the missing TV remote again and again, the pee on the Loo seat..................

I would like to go back to work now......
Welcome term one! So very nice to see you


vintage ad normal is just a setting on a washing machine


Tara @ Our Whirlwind Adventures said...

What are keppers!?

whatsinemmasbrain said...

keppers are oversize pants... think criss cross.. I thought they were THE coolest.... plus they made my parents irate! what more would you want? Yeah, I dont know what I was thinking either. he he he

Glowless @ Where's My Glow said...

Bahaha you're so funny Emma!

lori said...

I remember those days - packing lunches and rushing in the morning, then rushing to pick them up. I'm with you - I preferred it when they were off school so we didn't have to keep to a schedule.
Then they grow up and become teenagers and you wish they were little again!

Mich said...

whats PRH?
and here in WA, the kids went back today.

Joni Llanora said...

I so dread packing lunch too! They always return as is. Anya starts this Friday, still with a cast so that will make it more interesting. Yes, we are going to be late.

whatsinemmasbrain said...

PRH Is Princess Red Head, Our two year old red headed scorpio..... I am sure she will provide me with plenty of blog fodder, :)

Veggie Mama said...

holy shit i'm dying. funniest thing ever.

Once I wore a pair of purple Cross Colours jeans to the rollerskating rink. There, I said it.