As the sun shone in through the windows of our bedroom, my eyes were drawn to the mirrored doors of our wardrobe, and the hundreds of small, perfectly round marks spotting the entire mirror. What could possibly have disturbed the dust and smudge marks I ask myself?

It’s Nerf Gun bullet marks!! Some kid has stood in our bedroom and shot hundreds of bullets at him/herself in the mirror! Kids huh?

A perverse part of me wants me to think it was Fitty, but I’m pretty sure it was 8 enjoying the freedom of shooting endless rounds of ammo with no opposition. I wonder where Fitty was while this was going on?

I was in Canberra with other family members, standing by waiting for things to either worsen or get better with my big bro. His “heart attack” was in fact his body’s response to toxic shock. His system so full of infection that his heart literally went into overdrive. Thank God there was no actual damage and no need for any repair surgery. We knew he wouldn’t survive another anesthetic. He is now doing much better and after several days of pic-line(?) antibiotics he has been transferred back home to our local hospital. It will be a long recovery for him, but he is responding  well to treatment and doctors are reasonably confident.

Back on the home front everybody is doing well.  6 has become a real teenager in the last few weeks. We don’t really know when it happened but all of a sudden, he’s kind of sullen and unfriendly. Breaks my heart to see this stage appear, as his older brother is still not quite through it, and I will struggle having two sons in “no mum’s land.” A land where Mum is mostly an idiot and is not required for much other than cooking and cleaning.

7 will be 13 toward the end of this year, and is growing up so fast she astounds us each week. I swear you can see her growing taller, one minute you’re looking down at her, the next she’s right up there near eye level with you!! And her language! Simple phrases like “yes thank you”, have been replaced with “cheers brah”? She is all of a sudden Seinfeld, all sarky and sassy at dinner, quipping so quickly at Fitty and I our heads spin. I’m fairly sure she’s headed for some major changes in the next few months.

Why oh why do our children have to grow up? Why can’t they remain those sweet little angels that haven’t yet learned that their parents aren’t perfect, and still just blindly follow along with the family rules? Is it simply so we can become our parents?

I found myself in a public bathroom the other day speaking with an older lady about “kids these days!!!” Yes. I’ve become my mother. I’m not quite as neurotic, (yet), but I’m well on the way to being the same germ phobic, anti-young generation, queen of negativity Magoo is. And I don’t know exactly when it happened. Sometime between rocking out on the dance floor with the kids, drink spilling out of my hand, and heading into the bedding department at Target to buy beige sheet sets. (My sheets used to be purple dammit!)

It’s not like our older kids aren’t absolutely wonderful people. I love them dearly and they are really great young people. I just don’t understand their need to continually text their mates while they are with us. Our parents definitely had it better with us. When we went home for a family meal, if we had a mobile phone it was attached to a massive “brick” battery in the car. It wasn’t for texting either, or internet surfing. It was simply a mobile phone. As in a phone that wasn’t stuck at home on the wall or kitchen bench.

It was Mothers Day today. Our children made me feel very special and loved today. It is particularly lovely to hear from my step daughters on Mothers Day. I am so fond of my big girls, and so proud. I feel so unbelievably lucky to have the chance to build such strong bonds with my stepdaughters.

My big boys came around today and lounged around on the couch. Inhaling the fridge contents and then moving on to play footy in the afternoon. Fitty and I decided to go and watch most of the game before I had to go to work. So glad we did. It was a close game and we had to leave when the score was 20-22, (our boys behind). So frustrating to have to work weekends sometimes!!

Work! Same old shenanigans going on there. Those of us that work, work hard, and those that don’t give us the shits. I’d love to put some of those that don’t in my shoes for a week or so. I’m sure they’d see things a little more clearly when they’ve had to struggle through the day either in pain or in confusion from taking pain killers.

My health is pretty much the same, good days and bad. I found it hard to stick with my diet whilst away. When traveling it is especially hard to avoid grains. It’s so much easier to grab a toasted sandwich on the road, or a pie. I really noticed when I got home, my abdomen was swollen and tender. I felt as though I had eaten a bucket of thistles. I am sometimes astonished now that my body is used to “clean” eating, just how much damage processed food does to me.

Forgive me for the somewhat stunted nature of this post. I have been in an un-writey mood for quite a while now, and probably will take a few lumpy posts to get back into the rythym of things. I will try to get things going regularly again, as I miss keeping in touch with you. It helps keep me in touch with me.