Milla says she loves child #4, mmmmm, that would be with the benefit of half the planet between him and her microwave. I think the sole purpose of #4 is to enable other parents to have someone to point at and say, " See, we aren't as bad as his parents, our child doesn't do those things, well not ALL of them."

I ought to update every-one on the bridge though. Child #4 has succeeded in bridging the ravine in the back yard and is now pondering the possibilities of an opencast mine beyond the great divide. This has involved recruiting all the neighbourhood children to dig a big hole in the backyard.

All the boys are dead keen and I'll soon have a new pond, something I've been trying to get Homer to do for a while. ( The possibility of a pond and the fact that I can see the boys from my writing window are why I have allowed this project to continue.) The girls don't join in, they sit around talking about how silly the boys are, whilst keeping a furtive eye on them. So nothing changes as we get older then.

A large part of my day at work is spent commenting on how silly boys are, whilst keeping a furtive eye on them.

As for indoor activities for the school holidays, well Homer needed to mend the phone so he got the soldering iron out. ( Yes, child #4 had broken the phone by taking it apart to find the ring, I'll show him the f#####g ring!) I don't know why he did it, but he left the iron unattended to get something for at least thirty seconds, which is about twenty-nine too long. He returned to find a paper clip soldered to the cooker.

I have had words with both boys, the small and the large, concerning soldering and the suitable times and places to carry it out. The large boy looked suitably embarrassed but #4 had already moved on.

I should be grateful that the cat was catching up on a missed sixteen hours of sleep whilst the soldering iron and digging activities were underway. The cat had had a busy morning learning to skateboard with #4, she seems to quite enjoy it.

Expat musings #2

So we got to the house we had been provided with and all fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. (Twenty-four hours of screaming had at least tired out #4.) I imagine that my fellow passengers had arrived at their chosen destinations with stories to tell of screaming babies and bad parents to keep them busy at dinner parties for months.

When I woke up it was even hotter. Well I thought I better ring "home" and let them know we have arrived. I had no idea what time it was where I was, never back in the UK. ( Slight hiccup in the watch adjustment department.)

I picked up the phone and there was a silence, followed by a strange whirring noise. Apparently this is the dial tone in Australia, a sort of pregnant pause that you just feel you have to say " Hello, hello?" into, followed by a noise that sounds like the phone is broken. Seven years and I still get confused with the noises that issue from the phone. There seems to be no consistency with the noises, you just sort of dial and hope.

After several attempts, double checking with the phone book, waking a small child to see if he could work it out, and accosting a stranger in the street..

"Excuse me, yes you,... excuse me can you come and tell me if the phone is working? and how to dial it? ...Please? "

The poor man must have thought we some sort of care in the community refugees, but it goes to show that Orstaaaalins are basically friendly people. He was a great help, although he did keep his distance from us, and it gave my mother a bit of a turn when a complete stranger rang her and in an Australian accent said " G'day, yuritethere? earsyurgirl. " ( hello, how are you, here's your daughter). We didn't even offer him a drink, what with the getting of a plane and sleeping thing we didn't even know if the taps worked... can you drink the water?

In retrospect I was wearing clothes I had had on for two days, more or less, and had been asleep for eight hours, I must have looked pretty scary; and that was before Homer (a very large man) appeared (loomed?) behind him in a state of semi undress. MMM he probably thought he had been lured into an axe murderers den. We haven't seen him since, well not if he saw us first.

First thing my mother said, " Have you any idea what time it is here!". Well actually no, I don't know what day or time it is here, never mind what time it is there.

So I told her about the croc at the airport, with a quick aside into "They call that an INTERNATIONAL airport."

Next tasks, transport, money and food!

Smiley Saturday...small man still at it.

Smiley Saturday is here again. Child #4's enquiring mind has been at it again this week. Homer's car battery was going flat so he went to have it replaced, taking the small children with him as it's the school holidays.

The poor man doing the work had never been subjected to the Hobbit inquisition before. It's like Chinese water torture, only more relentless. Questions that aren't answered are repeated until an answer is obtained. Questions that are not answered fully are followed up on, if the answer seems to be avoiding the point then more probing missiles are launched to pierce holes in arguments. Poor logic or contradictory information is mercilessly jumped on.

As an example, " Do you work here?"..."Yes". "Do you get paid?", "How much". " No, exactly how much and how often?" ( Homer intervened here and explained that the boss was doing the work so he didn't get paid, he just paid everyone else.) " Who does he pay?" ..."the people that work here" ..."So does he have any money left each week". "Just enough to give the tax man his money and buy petrol for his car."

"What are you doing now?"... " How much do you spend on petrol a week?"..." No, exactly what size spanner are you using and why are you taking that bolt off first?"... "What happens if you take the other one off first?"... "Will you die if you do it wrong?"... ( Always at the forefront of #4's mind in view of his activities.)... " How many of these do you do a day?"... " How much do you charge?"... " So that means you get $xxxx a day, how much do you pay the men who work here?" Another question headed off by the father of the hobbit.

The questioning went on for the full length of the battery replacement. Number 4 employs the wrong foot technique of questioning, he asks questions along several different threads simultaneously, returning to subjects you thought you had covered and got away with later in the conversation.

The battery replacement was probably the quickest and most stressful job the poor man had had to do that week. He commented at the end of his ordeal that the Gestapo couldn't get information out of him now, and we should hire out #4 for training SAS recruits in interrogation, how to do it and how to withstand it.

" Is he always like this?"

" Yes"

" How come he's still alive?, No wonder you look stressed out."


Children were loaded back into the car and they left. Imagine the man's horror to see them return five minutes later. " Oh no!...er... I mean is there something wrong?"

" Um, no, I thought I was watching him, but you might want these back." Sheepishly Homer returned two spark plug spanners and a hammer.

"How did he get those? He was stood next to me watching all the time, how did he.." Homer said the look of confusion on the poor man's face was nearly worth the embarrassment. He couldn't really blame Homer for #4 having liberated the tools as he had never seen #4 leave his side or pick them up either. " I was worried for a moment that he had follow up questions" Nervous laughter.

And he's not even started on "Where do babies come from?" ...yet.

You Were a Lynx

You are a great knower and keeper of secrets. A bit psychic, you can bring out hidden truths.

What Animal Were You In a Past Life?

Danger...men at work

Son #1 loves his job bending and shaping steel into the vast air conditioning ducts and vents you see in public buildings. He comes home at night covered in grime and sweat, exhausted with his labours.

After pausing only to eat anything that stands still long enough he just has time to fit in six solid hours on the playstation before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep, happy with his lot.

I ask him about work and get grunts and shrugs in return, but they seem like positive grunts and shrugs. Today on the way home he slumped asleep in the passenger seat and I asked the standard question, "So, what did you do today?" Grunt, shrug, snore.

No, today, I decided I wanted to know exactly what had he done. Well, apparently, yesterday one of his co-workers had done a fart so smelly that they had to evacuate the shed that they work in. Today #1 had got his revenge by going over to his co-workers station and dropping one in return, the older and wiser colleague had remarked that it was an amateur effort and son #1 had responded with a "Just wait".

They had to evacuate the building again. He was very proud of this, the evacuation had been for a longer time. On return to the shed his coworkers had welded a plaque for him. "Air**** fart league--- Son #1: 5 points, co-worker: nil". I can't wait for the update at the end of the season.

"Really," I said, " and did you do anything else today?"

"Oh yes," he said getting enthused with the story telling. "So and so keeps stealing my lighter that I use for the welder to light his cigarettes, so I fixed him good. "

"How did you do that then?"

"I set my lighter on full flame and broke the adjuster off. When he lit his cig it took BOTH his eyebrows off. It was cool. Everyone laughed at him."

"So, is it like that every day, did you do any work?"

"That was work."

This is why they have "Men at Work" signs. To warn people with heart problems that they may see men actually doing work and it may bring on a heart attack.

Small man, big plans

Child #4 has always had an enquiring mind, which explains why I'm on first name terms with the ambulancemen, policemen and firemen of the area. I have A LOT of stories about things he has done in the name of "science", most of them unbelievable. Here's one of the latest.

Child #4 has been watching Megastructures on Discovery. Really, I should know better after some of his mechanical triumphs; including dismantling the air conditioners, removing the car seats and taking apart the mower. The security for household tools in our house would defy a Navy Seal team and an SAS squad working in close harmony.

(Tradesmen visiting our house are encouraged to keep all tools next to them or locked in their vans. They always look at us in that slightly strange "ooh look neurotic parents way", until they come back to collect their missing tools.)

Anyway, today's project. I was busy doing something important, like breathing, and was distracted from constantly monitoring #4. Then came a voice from outside, " Go on, stand on it."

" No."

" Go on."

I don't know why but I had to look. Child #4 had built his own megastructure inspired by a bridge. He had bridged the grand canyon (ok, a ditch in our back yard that is about six feet wide) with planks, rope and half an old trampoline frame. (Yes, he was responsible for the "half".) The whole thing was held up in a sort of suspension arrangement by the springs from the trampoline.

In the spirit of scientific endeavour he wanted child #3 to test his construction. He must have had doubts about it or he would have tested it himself. Child #3 is an innocent soul, the victim of many of #4's tests, but he doesn't learn. For instance, worms aren't poisonous, even after they've been microwaved. The microwave however had to be retired.

The problem with this test scenario was that this particular ditch in our back yard is in the process of being filled with rubble and old bricks. #4 had built his bridge and lowered it over the chasm with some sort of self made pulley system. It showed great ingenuity, flair and imagination but not much in the way of safety.

I set off for the back door in time to meet #3 coming in to report what #4 was up to. He may be learning after all as he hadn't been tricked onto the bridge. The same can't be said for the chickens.

#4 had taken some corn and thrown it onto the bridge to encourage the chickens on to it, followed by the cat, as I watched the bridge held, held, held, wobbled and then crashed earthwards in a scene reminiscent of some giant building demolition, only with feathers and a rocket propelled cat. I ducked to avoid a couple of springs as they pinged off the side of the house, and caught the cat.

So egg production will be down for a few days, shock does that to chickens, and #4 is rebuilding his bridge with more springs. He's trying to overcome the one dozen chickens and a cat weight limit. The cat is still #4's best friend, curiosity may indeed prove her undoing.

Trials of the DCS

My sister's baby (DCS thinks she's ten months old, post pregnancy brain fog) has just introduced DCS to the delights of a newly crawling baby. I gleefully left her a message about troubles to come.

I remember finding out child#2 could walk when I found her on the stairs ( child#1 had helpfully opened the gate). Of course child #1 introduced us to the joys of climbing by climbing into bed with us after we had put him in his cot. My children all walked very early, ( my friends maintain this is because I used to forget where I had left them so they had to find me, but that is not true, not entirely anyway).

I will miss the look of panic on DCS's face when she goes to a child free house and becoming engrossed in adult converation suddenly hears a crash from a neighbouring room....ah the memories.

I will not see the look of horror when Georgia finds something intimate in another room and brings it in to show polite company, or the sight of a newly resurfaced kitchen floor early on a Sunday morning. Resurfaced with eggs, flour and cornflakes that is.

DCS showed the way when, as a small child, she escaped the confines of our back yard. She could only walk with the aid of mothers large dog and had escaped by scaling the fence using the dog as a ladder to undo the gate. After leaving the yard the dog had helpfully waited while she used him as a ladder to reshut the gate. Imagine my mothers horror to find her one year old missing from the back yard, surrounded as it was by a six foot fence, the gate still shut.

DCS was found wandering the streets holding on to the dog for support. Of course she was completely naked. I think she still wanders the streets attached to dogs, but now she is dressed, I hope.

Teenage boys eat A LOT

Son number one is seventeen . I can honestly say I not seen him in the last six months and he has not been eating, looking for food, or complaining that he has eaten the entire food output of a medium sized country ( say China) and is still hungry.

Its ten o'clock in the morning and he has eaten a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs (thank goddess we have chickens), a bag of fun sized chocolate (for the smaller children), a box of muesli bars, two pounds of bacon and a small child ( oh no sorry the small child is hiding in his room). Now he's looking at the chickens with a glint in his eye.

I get his attention by carefully placing myself between him and the fridge. ( I wear protective gear.) When challenged about this he states he does not eat much.

I commented on his capacity for food to his boss , who was stunned. He thought we didn't feed him at home. Apparently he buys two lunches at lunch time, and had been known to leave work during his breaks for a burger meal, or two.

We both stood back and looked at the boy. No he is only one boy, and not a fat one.

I am going to have to get a second job to pay for food when son#3 and #4 reach this age...at the same time!!!

Sympathy...why can't I have some?

I had to go into hospital for a minor procedure today, but it involved "prep work" the day before.

So #1 son wanted to know if he could have some of the laxatives to put in the tea urn at work..............NO

Son #2 wants to know if he can watch, obviously sounded interesting to him when I told him what I was going for........NO

Son#3 wants to know if I'll bring him back a present, if you remember from Christmas and his birthday, he still wants a motorbike, a snake or a chain saw ( he's eight)..........NO

Husband wants to know if they do DVD's. He cracks himself up he really does. He says its alright, whatever format they do because our DVD player is multi format...NO

Daughter wants to know if we'll leave the Internet on while we're out...NO

After said procedure I was in the patient lounge, you don't get a bed just a very comfortable chair. In the lounge are the pre op patients, looking worried at the post op patients who are sat drooling in various states of consciousness and the recovered patients waiting to go home.

The nurse tells me that I can't go home until I eat and drink something. Fine, I'll have a cup of black tea and a piece of fruit.....NO.

Apparently they provide sandwiches. I explain I can't eat wheat or dairy, so anything else, anything at all? I'm there for tests for celiac disease, I don't eat wheat. Wheat makes me ill.

NO....eat a cheese sandwich or stay. Eventually I agreed to eat said sandwich,after all its only twelve hours of pain, and she agreed to ring my husband. He didn't answer. I rang said husband, he didn't answer. I rang husband again, he was asleep, and promised to come immediately.

Phone call from husband, he's in the stop and drop zone, can I hurry up, GRRRRR. Mind one of the other patient's husbands had gone concreting and would be there by maybe five? ( this was at ten am.)

We stopped on the way home to buy a wood chipper, as that what he had planned for the day. But then I got to rest in a bed, while he chipped wood outside the bedroom window. Clearly he was sulking because I hadn't got him the DVD.

Boys will be boys..

Another interesting day, in the sense of the ancient Chinese curse.

Child #4 has been ill for two days with a high temperature. I knew it was viral and held off from the doctor but this afternoon decided I better get some one to look into his ears etc.

I made the appointment and they said that if I got there in the next half hour the doctor could see him straight away, or the next appointment would be tomorrow. Thinking of another sleepless night I said I could make it, mentally crossing my fingers that all the lights would be green and that no large slow moving vehicles would get in front of me. We officially live about thirty minutes from the doctor. It was doable I tell you.

I ran around the house collecting clean clothes for small children, that was when I found the cat. The cat was cowering under a bed. I wondered what was wrong and gathered her up, child #4 had apparently come around for long enough to padlock a six foot chain to her collar. So that was five minutes calming the cat, finding the key and unlocking the padlock and reprimanding #4 within an inch of his life.

Now for child #3 who had to come with us. He had disappeared. I found him waiting by the car and my eyes knew something was wrong, but not sure what. Oh well twenty minutes left to get to the doctor and we're off.

Through the door of the surgery and to the counter. I announced who I was, and who the child was, and wondered why the receptionist was staring past me. Oh well. I took a seat.

The doctor called us through and I carried child #4, who was now in full dying swan mode, in calling #3 to follow me.

The doctor started to speak and then looked past me to #3. Ah he said. The sound I made was a sort of UNh? I mean, I was carrying a sick weeping child in my arms, why was he looking at #3.

I whipped round and looked carefully at child #3. He smiled . OMG....OM double God, "What have you done!" I screamed. He has coloured his teeth in with a red marker pen. All of his teeth, bright red.

As the water in his mouth has got to it he has developed small blood like dribbles from his mouth. OMG..

Taking a deep breath I explained that the ill child was the one I was holding, the other one was just ....well, he's just, Shrug.

I am happy to report that a large dose of antibiotics seems to have perked #4 up so much that he is driving me demented with his energy, having slept for two days he has plenty in reserve. Number 3's teeth will take a while but scrubbing them every half hour or so seems to be reducing the worst of the staining.

Reminds me of a time when child #2 allowed the next-door-neighbour's daughter to colour her face in, all of it, with a green marker. Luckily that was totally washable or she'd look like a mini Shrek.