Water babies

We've got an adult's sized paddling pool on our lawn at the moment. The kidlet has been having a great old time "swimming" in it after school. (The Child is exhibiting signs of having inherited her mother's flailing swimming style.)

She has also taken great delight in giving me shit for being too wussy to get in it. IT'S NOT BATH TEMPERATURE SO IT'S JUST NOT HAPPENING. I'm delicate as hell, people. And my child is just plain mean.

It would appear someone else has been enjoying the pool too, based on the images that appear on certain Facebook feeds. Perhaps a little more than the Child even.

Garden growing quite brilliantly thxvmuch

I grew the shit out of this cucumber. So much so that you will humour me by ignoring the horrendous photo and instead marvel at the deliciousness that was my cucumber. Yeah, we ate it all in one go. It would appear I can do quality, but not quantity.

But considering the disaster that has been my gardening in the past, this is good. This is Very Good. I think I like this Waitakere place and its prolific rainfall.

Apricot paint effect be gone

This is not me being a gangsta. This is me being a hard core sander with my home fashioned dust mask from a fabric remnant.

Well, until I got bored after one wall and started whining about how hard sanding is. Then the Boy got sick of me and bought a sander that I could use on the remaining three walls. I whined a lot less after that. Oh, and I also bought some proper dust mask thingies which saw the end of my sweet remnant dust mask. Such a shame. (Probably good for my lungs though. It was up to eff all.)

Anyway, this is what I am removing. You were first introduced to the delight of the apricot paint effect back here. What in Dog's name possessed anyone to paint that shit in the first place is well beyond me.



And now I am committed to seeing the end of it. THE END OF THE APRICOT PAINT EFFECT. I will not mourn its passing.

Fancy

The Devil Child dressed herself this morning. I thought it was rather Fancy Nancy inspired and wanted to preserve it for posterity/future shaming at adult birthday parties.

Whenever I dress the child (Yeah, sorry, individual choice blah blah but sometimes I want my child to look cute and maybe keep the prints down to the minimum of clashing.), I try to make sure there's a little of her zany-ness coming through (compromise and all that) but everyone always asks if she dresses herself whenever I'm responsible for an ensemble. WHAT ARE THEY TRYING TO SAY?!

For a handy guide to picking who has chosen what outfit, you can pretty much guarantee if there's a minimum of three prints in a single outfit, or more than one pink item, then the child has self-styled that morning.

If black is present in any outfit, then that'll be my work. And it will have cost me a shitload in bribery to get her to wear it.

Damn this strong personality business.

My garden*

I'm playing landscape designer with the helpful aid of Microsoft Paint. (Actually, Gimp, but MS Paint induces vomiting in my design kid sister so I prefer to pretend I work in that beautiful piece of software.)

Eff knows what the hell I'm doing out there but I was planning on doing some of it this weekend. In anticipation of extreme garden creation, I thought I'd better attempt some sort of planning bizzo. I've never done gardens before. Wouldn't have the first clue what-goes-where and what-is-called-what and why-put-that-there, so I'm a little screwed. Oh, and I put my vege gardens in the wrong place. Gooooood.

Anyway, after this little attempt at planning, the only thing that it's thrown up is that I should never quit my job to be a landscape designer, and perhaps my efforts this weekend are best placed ripping the crap off the fence and repainting it, before I get too excited about filling in with soil and planting fancy palms.

That's no fun at all.

*V. loose use of term "garden"

On being a working commuting parent.

This is my day*:

6.00am: Alarm goes off. Hit snooze.
6.10am: Alarm goes off again. Hit dismiss. Close eyes for one more second.
6:13am: Wake up again and freak out hours have passed. Realise they haven't. Get out of bed.
6.15am-6.30am: Make cup of tea, lunches, and put load of washing on/hang load of washing out/stare at impossibly huge washing pile and despair.
6.30am: Wake child up. Open curtains. Threaten with anything even vaguely threatening.
6.31am: Threats of threatening things not apparently very threatening. Pre-coffee creativity not very creative.
6.32am: Get child's uniform. Attempt to wrench nightie off child. Stuff limp legs and arms into uniform.
6.34am: Give up uniform application. Give child standard lecture about the rumoured abilities of 7 year olds to  put own uniforms on. Walk out in disgust.
6.35am: Return to child's room and employ 'enthusiastic mother voice' to remind child about daily tasks of teeth and hair brushing, and toileting. Just in case child has forgotten.
6.40am: Get in shower. Forget world. Forget work.
6.50am: Remember work. Freak out that hours have passed. Discover that it's only 10 minutes. May as well be hours... now late.
6.52am: Run downstairs and express urgency to child. Find child playing with Monster High dolls. Culottes appear to be on body. School polo shirt nowhere to be seen. Abandon 'enthusiastic mother voice'. Screech a bit. Child moves in slow motion to find other uniform parts.
6.53am-7.00am: Stand over child to ensure DAILY ROUTINE is followed. Contemplate buying espresso machine to feed child coffee. Anything to MAKE THE SLOW MOTION MOVEMENTS FASTER.
7.00am: Abandon child with Monster High Dolls.
7.01am - 7.08am: Attempt to make self presentable. No time to dry hair. Or iron skirt. Hope boss not in today. (Every day.)
7.09am: Fly down Stairs of Doom. Slide down last 5 or so and [mostly] manage to not face plant/knock self out/break ankles.
7.10am: Grab handbag, child, child's bag, child's lunch box, own lunch box, and jam all in car.
7.11am: Get in car, ready to break land speed records. Realise phone is upstairs.
7.12am: Trudge angrily, and speedily, back upstairs yelling obscenities. (Wish I was joking. Poor neighbours.)
7.14am: Back in car. On road. Curse need to use driveway next to Evil-Butcher-Who-Hates-Me for lack of time.
7.18am: Deposit child, bag and lunch at before-school-care. Convince child that she doesn't need cocoa pops for breakfast. Leave whining behind.
7.19am: Jump in car and pull hastily in to car park. Thankful for good brakes in car.
7.21am: Run to path near front of train to smile nicely at driver while running in somewhat uncoordinated manner toward train.
7.21am: Train leaves.
7.21am - 8.01am: Forget to get ticket out. EVERY TIME. Ticket collectors bestow Stare of Deathly Death. Find ticket. Show collectors. Waste life on facebook/twitter, knit, daydream, watch train sleepers enviously.
8.02am: Speed walk to work. Glare at slow walkers. Overtake as many as poss. No time for slow walkers.
8.10am: Get to work and make cup of coffee.
8.15am-4.50pm: Work. V. productive work. Frequency of twitter updates not indicator of productivity. Not at all.
4.50pm: Meant to leave for train. Promise self will leave in 3 minutes.
4.57pm: Look at clock. Freak out.
4.57pm-5.05pm: Run up hill to train station.
5.05pm: Die.
5.05pm: Get on train. Forget ticket. Glaring from ticket collectors. But this time with extra amounts of deathly death as train busy.
5.06pm-5.48pm: Stare out window and wish for teleportation device.
5.48pm: Run to car and attempt to u-turn quickly on busy road to get to child's after school care on time. V. afraid of carer.
5.52pm: Leap over garden and run in to after school care. Child last one at after school care. Every. day. Sign child out at 5.50pm so don't look so bad.
6.00pm: Arrive home to sweltering stuffiness that is house.
6.00pm-6.08pm: Open a gazintizillion windows. ALL the windows.
6.09pm: Realise no meat out for dinner. Freak out.
6.10pm: Defrost meat in microwave.
6.15pm: Remember meat in microwave. Half cooked. Half frozen. Marvel at deliciousness.
6.16pm: Stare at meat and will inspiration for transformation plans.
6.17pm: Check facebook. And twitter. And trademe. And email. And pinterest.
6.28pm: Remember half defrosted meat. Browse "What the fuck should I make for dinner?"
6.30pm: Marvel at WTFSIMFD?'s genius.
6.31pm: Child appears from nowhere and asks to add malware play games on computer. Oblige. Check facebook/twitter/WTFSIMFD on phone instead.
6.39pm: Start making usual dinner of burritos/macaroni cheese/lasagne/insert generic tasteless meal here.
7.39pm: Remember child still on computer. Realise past bedtime. Freak out.
7.40pm: Kick child off computer. (Reminiscent of own mother circa 1998.)
7.45pm: Serve lukewarm and overcooked meal.
7.45pm: Child whinges about meal. Unless macaroni cheese.
7.45pm - 8.00pm: Child eats in slow motion. Chewing with open mouth. Head explodes. (Unless macaroni cheese. In which case, first plate devoured in approx 30 seconds. Not sure whether mouth is open during chewing. Not sure chewing takes place at all. More plates follow.)
8.00pm: Get sick of child eating in slow motion. Remove plate with half eaten meal.
8.01pm: Inform child of plan. Same as every night. Suspiciously same as morning routine: pyjamas, toilet, teeth.
8.23pm: Find naked child playing with Monster High Dolls.
8.23pm: Head explodes. (Not sure where second head came from after previous head explosion.)
8.24pm: Reverse wrenching of nightie and refusal to read bedtime story.
8.24pm - 8.35pm: Whingeing from child about lack of bedtime story.
8.35pm - 8.36pm: Feel the Guilt of Parenthood.
8.36pm - 8.38pm: Read shortest book in book case.
8.39pm: Kiss goodnight. Threaten threatening things if sleep is not attempted.
8.40pm: Child yells out for water.
8.41pm: Stamp into bedroom with cup of water. Stamp out.
8.42pm: Collapse on couch. Congratulate self on child in bed before 9pm.
8.43pm - 10.53pm: Clock Internets.
10.54pm: Roll into bed. Check phone to make sure alarm on. Glimpse world's most depressing message "Your alarm will go off in 6 hours and 6 minutes." Shed tear.
10.55pm - 6.00pm: Snore. Lots.

* Slight variations may exist. Most frequent variation is missing train.

Summer roadie

Among other things, this summer included a trek over to Akaroa. Where we did some speedy sight seeing.

Played with a special auntie and uncle.

Hung out with extended family at a cousin's wedding.

And got to meet the squishy little Podgey cousin for the first time.

Basically that was the first and last of our summer sun. Dismal.

Raggedy Ann

Little miss Hannah graced the stage as Raggedy Ann in her debut ballet performance on Saturday, while I also rocked it out as a "ballet mum" for the first time. She looked super cute in her costume; so she damn should have, as I slaved away in my duties as costume creator to make her look that good. (Ermmm... don't look closely please people.)

Her little counterpart, Raggedy Andy, also looked fabulous in her hastily sewn together well thought out costume but given that I didn't ask permission from her mother to plaster her all over Teh Internetz, I figure I'll limit the showing off to my grandmothers. Those grandmothers played a large part in the creation; Granny raided her fabric supply to send over ragdoll-suitable fabric and Gran's donated pattern magazines from the 1950s (with pre-cut-out patterns!!) provided the construction. I'd been despairing about how the heck I was going to pull it off until I came across those magazines. Yussssss grandmother power!

Anyway, Han was amazing in the production of Mary Poppins and it was totally worth going along to. I'd kinda assumed that D and I would be having a quiet nap in the theatre, ready to do the requisite parental cheering at Han, but I was enthralled the whole time! The principal dancers were amazing and the whole thing was really well put together. I'll be bullying the whole family to attend next year. Fo' shiz.

Podgelet

This is my niece.
























She happens to be my favourite niece in the whole world. And she looks good in my knitting. I can see this relationship lasting.

Tea for me

For Jute's birthday today, we took a family trip to Sweet Pea in Petone for high tea. My little brother Robbie even put on a shirt for the occasion (after his flatmates suggested that it might be appropriate high-tea-wear). He didn't iron it, but that's possibly asking a bit much of an 18 year old.

Not to be outdone, Gaz amped the class up by ordering a crate bottle of Lion Brown to accompany his asparagus rolls and strawberry tart. Yes, Sweet Pea have Lion Brown on the drinks menu. Gaz officially stoked.

Jute also stoked with delicious food and has committed to making it her local now that she's a lady of leisure (/overworked and extremely un-paid stay at home mama).

And like a good little kidlet, Podgey slept her way through the whole outing.