10 Things In My World

5 things which are seriously irritating me:

1. Adult acne. Fer' cripes' sake, enough already!

2. The fact that I wrenched my back while my wiping my ass. I only wish I was kidding about that. Okay, you can stop laughing now. It fucking hurts, you know.

3. My de-lurk day failed miserably.

4. Finding packaging for my Three Sweeties gourmet line of products. All the sexy packaging is either too expensive or not air tight. *bangs head on wall* Ideas welcome.

5. The cook in the kitchen next to mine who keeps coming into my kitchen and saying, "So what did you make me for afternoon tea, hmmm?" Umm, that would be a big fat NOTHING, ya biotch. Now get out of my kitchen!


5 things which make my life worth living, other than my children, husband and chocolate:

1. The gourmet line of Three Sweeties products are seriously, seriously good. I've got nothing to put them in, but as products they are exceeding my expectations. Three words: Vanilla. Bean. Marshmallows.

2. This week DH and I are going on a mini-vacation for 5 days (which I can ill afford the time, but we planned it ages ago.) This is the longest we've been away from the trio. I'm thinking of indulging in three things: 1) sleep 2) uninterrupted sex and 3) breakfast which does not involve cereal. Repeat.

3. Tomorrow night I'm going to the parents' association meeting with the express purpose of kicking ass about a number of issues which are really irritating me. Frankly, I love a good fight. Especially one which I plan to win.

4. My DH has a cute butt. Which I'll get to admire on vacation, without a kid yelling, "Gross! Dad! I can see your BUTT! Ewwwww!"

5. DD1, who would normally have a very hard time performing, stood up in front of a theatre full of people, in full costume, with bright lights shining in her eyes and loud music playing.... and SANG. With hand motions. Something she previously could not do without needing to cover her ears and hide in a corner and sing to herself. She did it. On TWO nights. I have never been more proud of her. Sometimes it's the little things.

Tooth Fairy Economics

It's raining teeth in our house at the moment, with each of the kids either losing a tooth or wobbling a tooth or discussing their wobbly teeth. A veritable dental typhoon around here! Since us Jews don't have Santa Claus, the only real 'fantasy' character we can use is the Tooth Fairy. I make a pretty good Tooth Fairy, even though my wings don't quite fit (and frankly are a bit out of fashion), and the pink dress does nothing for my complexion. Some months ago the kids found my stash of their fallen-out teeth (yes, I know, it's kinda gross to be keeping them - and scarily enough I even have some of my own baby teeth). They were thoroughly confused as to why I might have them, given that TTF herself is meant to take them away.

Hmmm. (Insert mad scramble thinking) Ummmm..... wwwwweeeelllll, you see, The Tooth Fairy SELLS them back to the Mummies and Daddies after she collects them, so the Mummies and Daddies can keep them as a memory of their kids growing up. Yup. That's it.

So this weekend we discussed TTF again - specifically, how someone so small can possibly carry coins which are so big and heavy. DD1 opined that in her fairy dress, TTF has magical pockets which can fit giant coins in so that the coins just barely peek over the top of the pocket edge. Sorta like Mary Poppins' carpet bag, the pockets look normal sized (eg tiny and suitably fairy-ish) but they can hold much bigger things than they look like they should. DD2, however, had a different theory. Namely that the people who give TTF the money in the first place give her tiny money, and TTF has a special magical skill which means she can carry her tiny coins and then magic them into normal size when she puts them under your pillow. Either solution works, really, and I was most impressed about the kids coming up with these answers.

It was quite an entertaining conversation, until such time as I asked HOW TTF comes upon all this money in the first place. I mean, millions of trillions of children across the world, times however many teeth - we're talking some serious dosh here. This is the point where my children proved (yet again) that they are smarter than I am, and that they remember what I say.

"Um, DUH Mummy! She sells the teeth to the Mummies and Daddies, and then she has money to give to the KIDS."

Ahhh. I see. My original explanation for why I had ziploc baggies of teeth hiding in my closet comes back to haunt me. Seems ol' TTF has a bit of a "robbing Peter to pay Paul" scheme going on. Clearly, a free market economy exists even in Fairy Land.

News Flash: Apparently, Isabella (friend of the trio) has SEEN TTF, for reals! Hmmm. Me thinks this report might be suspect.

News Flash #2: Apparently DS, when he lost his very first teeth (at age 3), stayed up awake ALL NIGHT to see her, and he didn't see her. Apparently she was SO small, he couldn't see her because it was soooooo dark in his room.

News Flash #3: Boy, are these kids going to be pissed off when they realise their Mum owns a fairy dress with no pockets!

In The Middle of The Night

So this morning we enjoyed the late breakfast company or Drs J & M, who admitted to us that in the wee hours of the morning, they were thinking up imaginary charges in restaurants. So, for example, if you bring your own wine (a common practice in Australia), a restaurant may charge you a "corkage" fee to literally open and pour the bottle. The delightful doctors have since come up with such gems as "porkage" (for when you bring in your own pig), "dorkage" (for when you BYO nerd to dinner?) and so on and so forth....clearly, one loses all sense of normalcy at 4am. Apparently it all got very silly very quickly. The crazy thing is, I didn't find this quirky activity all that strange. I myself have a middle-of-the-night thinking activity, and this is it: crappy rhyming jokes. Jokes which are AWFUL, which I make up on the spot, and tell long-suffering DH, and he has to STAY AWAY OMG OMG THIS ONE IS SOOOO FUNNY and then listen to my laughing through it for several minutes before I can tell it. Eventually I tell it, he says a droll, "yeah. very funny. goodnight." and tries to roll over and ignore me. Note I said *tries* to roll over and ignore me.

Seconds pass.

I wait in the darkness.

I think.

I smile. I suppress a giggle. I momentarily think that I should be nice, that DH needs his sleep, that I should just...OMG but this one is SOOO funny!

I say, "OKAY! WAIT! You gotta hear this one too!" and then I deliver the joke (more of a riddle really) and make him try and think of the answer. I give him about 2.3 nanoseconds before I yell, "Give up?" and I shout the answer and start giggling, and so on and so forth. Repeat ad nauseum, until he literally begs for mercy.

Yeah, I think DH should get a medal too.

Here are some examples of my bad late night jokes:

(based on words ending in -ellow)
Q: What do you call a guy rolled in turmeric?
A: A yellow fellow

Q: What do you call a really laid back guy?
A: A mellow fellow

Q: What do you call a guy with a really loud voice?
A: A bellow fellow

Q:What do you call a red guy whose body jiggles?

All together now....
A Jell-O Fellow!

(and yet more, ending in 'undies')
Q: What do you call dirty underwear?
A: Grundies

Q: What do you call fat people's underwear?
A: Ton-dies

Q: What do you call Outback Australian underwear?
A: Dundies! (as in Crocodile...)

Q: What do you call underwear you wear at a party?
A: Fun-dies

.....yes, I'm sitting this and laughing so hard that it's hard to type. Fundies! HA! I said FUNdies!

Oh dear god. Now I've lost it completely.

Midnight Madness

DH and I have a lot in common, but we also have some very marked differences. One of these is sleep - I like a lot of sleep, and he doesn't really need much. I can sleep while a large freight train goes through my bedroom and is then followed by several police cars and ambulances with sirens wailing and lights flashing. He, on the other hand, wakes up when he hears the conductor in the next country say "tickets, please." One of the more unfortunate side effects of my sleeping "habit" is that I can have full, apparently "conscious" conversations with people - while I am asleep. My eyes can be open, I can be talking at length (of course) and at volume (of course) and in complete sentences (of course) - and yet, not remember a single thing about it the next morning. I can in fact do several activities like changing into pajamas, setting my alarm, putting away dishes and other sundry 'stuff' and yet have no recall beyond getting up off the couch the night before. It's not unusual for me to wake up and say to DH, "What happened last night?" In my defense, I'm glad I married someone who I am (mostly) sure would not take advantage of me in the this sleep/wake state of mine. Actually, maybe he did - I wouldn't remember anyway! Damn, wonder if I'm missing out on something good?!? Must.Stay.Awake. (Next.Time.)

So this whole sleep/awake thing is a well known fact in my family and my sister has previously used it to her advantage. Ergo, she'd come home late after being out, come into my room and ask to borrow something. I'd answer her, ask her how her night was, etc and then fall blissfully asleep. The next morning she would have or be wearing said item, and I'd say, "HEY! WHO SAID YOU COULD BORROW THAT?" and she, opportunist that she is, would smile and say, "YOU did. Last night." Given that I couldn't remember last night, I couldn't really argue, could I? So - see? This sleeping and talking thing gets me in trouble. A few nights ago, however, was a PRIME example of how actually BEING awake while others think you are asleep (and therefore will be affected with amnesia) can work to one's advantage.

For reasons which totally escape me now, we started to talk about The Wiggles. I don't know why - another example of how parenthood addles the brain. Anyways, so we talk about Jeff, the Purple Wiggle. DH claims he's "over 60" and I claim he's "50 something." We discuss this for a while, and eventually decide a bet is the best way to solve this complex moral quandary. The reward, if I won, was a whole week of a) picking what to watch on TV and b) dictating what time DH gets to bed. The reward if DH won was only part A, since he didn't much care about dictating my sleeping time. Now you should know that TV in general is an "issue" in this household - because DH watches (endless) (boring) (inane) (bad makeup) (wierd creepy space thingies) (no storyline beyond either getting home or trying to get home and not making it) (shows with numbers in the title) (did I mention boring and endless?) Sci-Fi shows. I, on the other hand, have several genres I like. But I digress. So the stakes were high - for him at least.

I think DH thought I forgot about the bet, as per my usual "I'm in bed and therefore non compos mentis" behaviour.

He was wrong.

I win.

Whose sleeping NOW, baby?!?!