Clothes and teenagers...

Number one got his first ever tax rebate this morning. " Mum, MUM MUM!!!!"

"What is it oh shining light of my life and most precious first born? " (OK it was 7 in the morning on a Sunday, I was a LOT ruder.)

" I need clothes.....NOW". I asked if we could possibly delay the trip until the shops OPENED?? mmm?.....

We arrived at the shops and I asked him what he wanted, " I dunno."

" OK, what do you need?"

" I dunno"

"Please, please turn on your brain, there are only a few hung-over shop girls and us in an entire shopping centre, please....."

"mumble mumble boxers, mumble mumble." I can see his point, I have after all been washing his boxers and some of them are more delicate through age than my smalls. Off to Big W and he disappears and comes back with eight pairs of boxers, four pairs of socks, two work shirts, a pair of work shorts, one pair of jeans, one zip up jacket, a smart shirt and five t-shirts.

All this while I was distracted by a pink bra. In less time than it had taken me to look at said bra, examine it minutely, check the label, stitching, size, price, possible related bargains and colour against a mental check list he had been around all the clothing racks, made his selections, paid for them and was ready to go home.

I did check he had all the right sizes. I like this male shopping thing. Last time I took the girl child it took us over half an hour to get from the car park to the mall, what with checking her clothes were adjusted, and her hair was right and re-checking her hair, and clothes, and make-up. It then took over two hours to pick out one sodding t-shirt in that hell of all stores Supre. The music, the staff, the giggling girls. If I'd had a sharp implement with me I don't know whether it would have been them or me but it would have been one of us!

I shall take the male children shopping, and myself, the girl child can go with her giggling girl chums. I am officially a grumpy old woman.

Not so smiley Saturday

I started my smiley Saturday post, and everything I wrote was so not smiley...I am under a few writing deadlines and the keyboard is giving me guilt trips when I am not writing what I should be. So much for natural creative processes! So I stopped and went for a walk.

The sun is shining, but not so much that it sears your eye balls straight out of your head, the birds are singing and the grass is green. I have come back in a much better frame of mind. Note to self...don't force it, go for a walk.

So it's not just me....

One of the first shocks in Australia was the price of things...this post from one winging pom says it all.

How the cat amuses herself....

The cat spends about sixteen hours asleep a day, has a few snacks here and there, plays with number 4, which leaves her with a few spare hours to kill each day. I have recently become aware of just how she is spending this time.

When we first got her as a little kitten I was worried that she would be eaten by the dog next door, which is a small elderly schitzu. The fence is a wire one and I was sure she would wander and be savaged. "Don't worry," said Homer,"the dog is deaf and blind, it'd have to trip over the cat to find it." I was only slightly calmed because I know Homer hates cats and would be glad if she was eaten.

I didn't need to worry though, the cat soon worked out that the shitzu couldn't see or hear her. One of her favorite games now is to run up to the dog and bat it on the bum, and then retire to a safe distance as the dog runs in circles searching for her.

When she tires of that game she goes to the back fence and sits on the top of it. This drives the rottweiler that lives there insane with anger. It barks and yelps and snarls and foams and runs up and down the fence howling. Eventually the dog's owner appears at their back door and screams at his dog to " Shut the F**** up." By which time the cat is no longer on the fence.

She has been known to repeat this trick several times in an hour. I admit I found out about this trick when I went to see what in the name of God the dog at the back was barking about, and caught the cat slinking off the fence, and then observed her repeat the trick. I haven't visited said neighbour to complain about his dog barking.

After all this activity it is time for a rest. She does this on a sunny patch of grass in front of our other neighbour's floor to ceiling windows. This has driven the Beagle in residence literally around the twist. I found out about this when I noticed that they had put peculiar curtains up at three feet above floor level. Not a good decorating look, in my opinion. I mentioned the curtains to the neighbour, and was told about my cat's afternoon activities.

My neighbour said, "I'm sure that cat knows what she is doing." I was about to disagree and comment on the coincidence of the position of the afternoon sun, and then I considered the cat's other hobbies. I kept my mouth shut.

Going to the doctors

As I previoulsy mentioned #3 is so cool he's on his back. Nothing phases him and he takes life as it comes. As long as he has the complete DVD collection of Stargate he is happy. (He can talk along with many episodes he knows them so well.)

He has had warts on his hands for some time and they won't go. We have tried everything from leaving them alone (I was assured they go away after six months, apparently not.) to burning them with acidic solutions. Nothing works, although the acid solutions did take the surface of the kitchen worktops. The only wart that has gone is one he knocked off himself.

So to the doctors. The doctor is freezing them off, but because some of them are so big this has involved repeated visits. #3 is not happy about this but he goes along with it. Not this time.

Homer along with #3 and #4 were all in the waiting room, quietly catching whatever diseases passers by cared to give them. Come in #3 called the doctor. Number three immediately curled up on the floor with his hands under his armpits and screamed and screamed and screamed. The doctor looked nonplussed, the oldies looked shocked, other parents hurriedly left with their precious bundles.

Homer picked up #3 and bundled him bodily into the doctors room. The screaming didn't stop. Number 4 thought this was hilarious and was doubled up on the floor laughing, and he to had to be carried into the doctors office, but for different reasons.

The wart freezing didn't go well and only one or two of the targetted warts were overcome. Homer says I can take him next time. Number 3 looks doubtful at this prospect as he knows the same performance may not be allowed by the mother monster.

A day out

At long last a day out. We decided to take the small children beach fishing and packed the car up after they had gone to bed on Saturday, that would be about midnight....shades of Christmas eve there. They could smell something in the air.

Bright and early (all right early) on Sunday we set off for the beach with at least twenty small children in the back of the car. Well it sounded like it, oh for one of those glass partitions they have in limos!

#1 was hungover, at least he was transparent from lack of sleep and #3 decided he would find out where we were going soon enough if he went to sleep and we woke him on arrival. He is so chilled out I don't know how he ever stands up.

Of course #4 climbed into the back and knotted the fishing lines, opened the packet of frozen squid lips and found the knife, all the while with me writhing in the front seat trying to reach him with my shoe to clock him one. Good look for passing motorists.

I had carefully packed two towels, Homer said they wouldn't be swimmimg, why bother...I ask myself , "Has he met our children?" I left him to dress them, more on that mistake later.

" Are we there yet? are we there yet?"...." Not yet, we haven't left the drive yet."

We drove south for an hour, through lovely tropical scenery to the sounds of snoring (#1 and #3) and " Are we there yet?, What's this? can I...ow!,why is this slimy? this smells funny, ha-ha it sticks to the window, look!" with me responding with "Put that down, if I could reach you, put that down!" Interestingly all this accompanied by the BBC world service, because local radio stops as soon as you drive south of Cairns.

We arrived at the beach, carefully selected for its gently sloping sands and small surf. Number 3 took off like a rocket and straight into the water fully dressed, that's underpants, pants, t-shirt and thick woolly jumper. I dragged him out and stripped him off to his underpants, all the while giving meaningful looks to Homer, to be greeted with " What, what?"

I spread his clothes on the sand to dry and half-nelsoned #4 on his way to the water, sitting on him until I had him stripped off, only to discover he was going commando. More meaningful looks at Homer. "What, what?"

You could spot the local family on the beach, that's us dressed in jeans and jumpers, the tourists are sunbathing.

The rods were untangled and the squid lips applied to hooks and I rested reading a book in calm and tranquil surroundings, only broken by the screams of my children in the water. These I could ignore, after all it's not my house they're trashing.

The fishing led to number 1 catching a log, some sea weed and a couple of crabs. He's really embarrassed that I keep saying he caught crabs because he thinks I don't know what the other crabs are, so I keep saying it. I may say it to his boss tomorrow, #1 caught crabs at the weekend.....

I did take pictures but am tecnologically challenged and will await Homer uploading, downloading whatever it is.

Noises in the night...

I was fast asleep last night when I heard a loud crashing noise, it must have been loud because I was fast asleep and the noise woke me, and I could still hear it. I lay there in bed wondering what had woken me and staying very still. (You know monsters under the bed can't find you if you lie very still.) Quietly into the silence Homer whispered " What was that?"

Now I know that the noise was loud, it woke the sleeping giant. " I don't know." We lay there a bit longer. Did he think I was going to have a look? No fear, he man, he big hunter, he could go and get eaten by the monster under the bed, and more importantly he could get cold.

Eventually he sighed and left the bed, grumbling and moaning. I heard thumps and bangs, I heard the back door open, I heard some muffled swearing. I listened carefully for the sound of something trying to get him...." ********* cat!"

The noises returned to the bedroom. " What was it?" The cat was apparently knocking on the door to come in. She had climbed onto the screen door and was bouncing on it to attract attention. She is a small cat and how on earth she was making that much noise is a mystery. Perhaps she had got a local lion or tiger in to help her, which had quickly run off and hidden in the undergrowth when Homer appeared.

The cat is usually inside, except when out playing with #4, so I can imagine that she was extremely upset that she had accidently been locked out, but not as upset as Homer was at being woken to let her in.

Join smiley saturday here. ooh, and this appealed to my bad parent side.

I did a silly thing, I joined a weight loss challenge. Not that i don't need it, but now I'm going to have to do something about it!