The Massive Wobbly....

Alex was home for a rather brief time these school holidays and in between a stint at the beach with her buddies and rowing camp there were things for her to do, such as laundry, rubbish ridding...... the ever present BEDROOM tidy.

Since she was only home for 3 days in between, I began to ask on the first day about the "above normal tasks that this poor child would be expected to attend to"!!!!!


"......have you done your washing?"
".....you will need to do some washing?"
"......what clothes are you taking?"
".......what the hell is this and why is it moving across the floor and leaving a slick?"

And..........

After many repeated conversations (if me saying, and her appearing to listen, is a conversation???) nothing happened.

Eventually, enough was enough and I said 'we are going to do your room'   After the lead balloon hit the proverbial floor, we started (well I started)
Time elapsed and 1 rubbish bag, 1 full laundry hamper, 1 made bed, 1 mostly clear floor, 1 wardrobe with visual floor later things (in my mind) were coming together.

I asked Alex to get the Spray and Wipe and clean a mark off the wall.  She squirted with no consideration for the carpet directly in line and finally  the patience snapped.

"DON'T SPRAY DOWN THE WALL ONTO THE CARPET IT WILL STAIN IT!!!!!!!!!!"

This was followed by the very predictable throwing down of items and stomp outside with random words surfacing "mean.....murmur, murmur.... my room.... murmur, murmur ....mean....like it....murmur, murmur....4th element of the periodic table....... (nah, not that one, but ever hopeful)

Suddenly the massive wobbly came on.  Not her.  Me!  I lost my cool and threw the laundry basket all over the room, emptied the rubbish bag onto the previously made bed, tossed cushions, cleared the desk in one dramatic sweep.  Then, not spent I walked through the house finding all the lying round items, and chucked them down the hallway into the room.  The room looks surprisingly 'usual' so I stomped to the front door and delivered (at volume) the pièce de résistance "YOU CAN COME BACK NOW......... YOUR BEDROOM IS HOW YOU LIKE IT!!!!" 

The slam of the door sealed the deal.

In our house, me being cranky is not a usual element and in this case I even surprised myself.  Short term, there was an effect and next time I saw the room it was very tidy.  Long term............ the room is still not my scene, but maybe a little crack in the rock???

Once she was little......

Over Xmas I spent some time with the mother of a little girl and we were laughing about the silly things that kids do.  Those sweet, innocent things that make you laugh- later!

Alex had a prime place to do her 'things' and that place was the Supermarket.  She once sat in the trolley and reached behind and took out the green bucket we were about to purchase.  She put it on her head (as you do!) and began to sing.  She made noises and sang, inside the bucket, the whole way round the shop.  Mostly the noises were just 'ah (pause) ah, (pause) ah"  then, after some time of her favourite 'ah' song she cracked into Barney "clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere clean up, clean up, everybody do their shirt"  (No explaining, for many years, the difference between 'shirt' and 'share')  People walked past, some laughed, some frowned, some made no eye contact.........


Another time she sat in the trolley while I chatted to the woman behind me in the check out line.  Eventually the woman said "have you got a big weekend planned?" pointing to Alex and the conveyer belt.  I turned to find that Alex had taken many, many packets of condoms from the left of the aisle, (where normally they have the 'tempt' items, go figure!!!!) and put them on the conveyor on the right- many, many packets,  my guess is about 15, piled up and fast disappearing down toward the checkout and  into our shopping!  Not really the look I was after!!!


Shopping embarrassments did not only occur in the supermarket.  Once as we drove home with the shopping sitting on the seat beside Alex, she reached into the bag and found panty liners.  Normally fairly unfun items one would think- but no!  Open the packet!  Have a play!  By the time I caught on what was happening, she had opened the packet, striped off the sticky piece and stuck them on the window on the other side of her carseat.  We travelled  home with about 8 stuck to our window.

 Another of her favourites was the tricky questions in the aisles-


"Mum, do you believe in GOD?" heads turned- damned if you do, damned if you don't.....
"Mum, why is that man so black?" yep, he heard, but hopefully doesn't speak English???!!!??
"Mum, I'm going to ...... blahhhhhhhhhhhh, splat! (cue green and carrot-y puddle)"
"Mum, why do boys smell"  Oh, where to begin!






The justice is that one day Al will have her own children and one day she will also laugh at these stories.  Just not yet........

".......and they have taken her to A & E ......."

The camp was apparently fantastic for the first 6 days....... then came the mountain biking activity and as per a previous blog, riding is a SERIOUS business.  At least she would have had her helmet on, fitted properly and strapped up, feet in position, hands at ten to two.......

She crashed!  In spectacular fashion!  Apparently landing on the bottom of the pile, under another child (miraculously unhurt) and two bikes (one wreaked beyond repair)  and mostly on her face.  On the road.

The school rang doing their best to be calm when they knew nothing about her damage, after all we ARE talking 'one egg, one basket' stuff,  be careful when you talk to the parent of an only child!!!!!

She was checked out, no breaks, teeth okay, slight concussion and released back into their care for one more night.  The staff, bless them,  woke her every hour and she was obviously okay when I spoke briefly to her in our code "how are you on a scale of 1 to 10?"  Since she has been little this is our secret code to tell me how she is feeling without anyone else knowing.  ( 1 being the lowest, 10 being the highest)

Her monotone voice told me "9"
Jeez are you for real??????  You just crapped off a bike, have concussion and your abrasions didn't need stitches???? Don't you need me?????
"Okay, so you are okay?"
"Mum" came the flat voice "I told you, I am okay, its a 9"

She arrived home the next day.

When I saw her, sitting in the chair at home I couldn't believe the damage.  She looked like the son in the Cher movie 'Mask' (google images and find out!!!)  She was so swollen on the right that you couldn't even see the beginnings of her black eye and the reason she was monotone was that her lips were so swollen that she couldn't move them and vaguely, she resembled Angelina (only more beautiful and more moral)

She ate for two days through straws!

She hobbled round that house on bent knee and sore elbow.  She was a trooper!

What is the teenage irony, I hear you scream???

Had it happened to me I would have been on a Zimmer frame for months if not years!  We are not even two weeks later and she looks amazing!  Only a couple of pink spots on her face where the scabs have healed!!  Back to rowing, back to running, back to normal.

My basket has one tough egg!

Many a Twix

Many a Twix

 

Alex is away at camp this week.  She had a list of things that she needed which included the treats (many and varied) that were essential and in actual fact the difference between life and death for any budding teenage camper.  Several times last week, I was reminded by email and text to make sure I remembered to pick them up.

Of course, being Mother of the Year, I did remember.  The down side was that I had to go to a meeting in the evening prior to camp and left Alex and one of her friends here, alone, with the loot.  This loot included a mini pack of Snickers and a mini pack of Twix.

Clearly Twix were the favourite!

When I got home, late!!!  The kids were in bed.  The first Twix packet (empty of course!!) that I found, was just inside the door, the second, on the floor next to the sink.  A further 3 almost in the rubbish bin, but not quite. 'Aim accurately', means nothing.

I sat down with a glass of wine- yet another empty Twix packet down the side of the chair, I put my wine down and low and behold, stun me maybe?! A Twix packet on the coffee table.  I picked up my laptop, oh my Lord!  What is this?  Surely not another empty Twix packet???

It went on.  It  did not make me happy.

There is a beautiful irony as I am discovering, that lies in all teenage hell interactions.

 The next morning when I asked 'why wasn't the dinner (I had slaved over and organised the night before when sleep, for me, would have been a far better option!) eaten?'

"Oh, Mum we just weren't hungry"

Seriously???!!!

I've Cleaned My Floordrobe...

The bedroom is becoming an issue.

No!  Cancel that!  The bedroom is a source of bio-hazard to rivals areas evacuated of human existence due to toxicity levels!

I apparently, have yet to learn that the best place for a new (or borrowed from mother) item of clothing is the floordrobe.  The advantages are that you can basically see a part of each item so if you want it, you can find it.  The floordrobe can also be used to disguise things on the floor you do not want found, such as stray food packets, ink stains on the carpet, cracks forming from seismic movement or refugee families kicked out of Australia and use to residing in small, stinky spaces.

Ironing?  Magically done by feet moving over items of clothing and also done by heavier items sitting on top- school bags, sports shoes, fallen chairs......

The downside of a floordrobe is that a whole ecosystem can exist underneath the floordrobe and until it is disturbed, it remains harmoniously multiplying and leaving evidence of its lifespan.

Recently I decided to conduct an archeological dig and locate the missing school PE shorts that I had several times, provided bland excuse notices for to the PE teacher.  It was a battle and at the end of it I had a (mostly) charcoal carpet and 3 rubbish bags to show for it, well that and a smile that rivaled Mona Lisa!  Yes, it is true!  She had just cleaned her kids room and was too frightened by what she had found to be truly happy!  Secrets of the ages revealed between mothers!

The elation was short-lived "Gasp! - I like my room like that, what have you done?  I can't find anything now."  and this was the best and most rewarding part "WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN?"

Okay mean!  But satisfied. (and on an economic level, protecting my asset- the carpet I mean!!!)

There Is Nothing to Eat...

I really don't understand how a completely stocked pantry can be the source of starvation angst.  Our pantry is so full, it could actually feed a small nation for several months!

She will often stand in the pantry,  surrounded by food of all sorts and lament 'there is NEVER anything to eat'.  Translation- "I want something nice, preferably chocolate, to put in my mouth, without having to actually DO anything to it".

Another regular I get is 'there is nothing to take for lunch'-  see translation above.   The other day I said 'What about sandwiches?  You could also have some crackers and cheese, a few nuts, although be careful, you are what you eat! (an oldie, but a goodie).  There is yogurt in the fridge....."
"I don't like any of those things!  Anyway if I did, they would get smushed in my bag and I can't take a lunchbox because it takes up too much room"   Translation- just give in Mum and give me some money for the tuckshop.

Another guilt inducing statement is "All my friends Mothers make their lunch for them, they always have really nice lunches and they have little surprises too"    My reply- "Aren't you lucky, when you grow up, you will be organised and able to manage yourself without me there!  I am training you for the future and I am doing such a good job!"  Translation- I don't really care and I am not going to make your lunch. 

Won't matter what I say because it and only produces a withering glare which doesn't inspire me to suddenly decide to make her lunch.

And....... don't get me started on "Why don't you take a boiled egg..???  Apparently that would be social death.