Other-Mother recently commented on Facebook about having the best of both worlds. A week with her children, and a week without in which she can explore her own pursuits.

I agreed and said something along the lines of, “me too, but it takes me a while to get used to the silence when they leave!” <sad face>

The opposite is true upon their return. And this is where Fitty and I are most different.

The younger two arrive around dinner time on Tuesday nights, whereas 6 is still at his Dad’s until Wednesday. This schedule change occurred when 8 started swimming on Tuesdays. It works well because it gives us a night with 7 and 8 upon arrival, and a night with just 6 the following week. Confused yet?

Tuesday nights are usually fairly quiet. The kids arrive, we eat and settle into the evening comfortably. We catch up on all the various news for the last week, and they settle in. They’re off to school early the next day so the transition is quite calm for me.

Not so Wednesday.

Wednesday I notice all the extra things that are laying around that come with the arrival of 7 and 8. School notes, bobby-pins, hair elastics, wet towels, over-excited dog,  box of Playstation and games, breakfast dishes and toast crumbs. Just to name a few…

The bus pick-up in the afternoon is where the fun really starts. I head up a little past the time 7 and 8’s bus arrives, just to keep them wondering if I’ll show. (They usually dawdle for the first few hundred feet.) This also relieves a bit of the wait for 6’s bus which arrives 15 mins later.

From the second 6’s bus pulls up, the level of excitement builds to crushing levels. I am excited as I haven’t seen him for a week, 7 and 8 are excited because he’s their big brother, and idol. Pooh is excited for all of the above reasons. She begins to try and get out of the window as soon as his bus comes into view. (Even when the window is closed!)

The noise level in the car is so over the top! Everyone is talking at once. The dog is licking everyone, standing on their laps in order to poke her head out of the window and tell everyone the kids are home!

I LOVE it. I absolutely throw myself into the noise and roll all around in it. Sometimes it gets a little much, but it’s useless to try and control it. It’s a short drive. I can handle it.

We arrive home. EXPLODE out of the car.

The after school poop dilemma begins – 3 children. 2 bathrooms.

Someone “Shotguns!” a toilet. Someone else “Shotguns!” the other. Another squirms. Wait, there is a bonus! They are the first to discover what luscious home-baked treat awaits. (Someone has a new oven after 8 years of  Turbo life!)

GET OUT! OUT OF MY LIFE!

GET OUT! OUT OF MY LIFE!

Seriously – the adventures that damn Turbo oven and I had. (In a kitchen that is embarrassed to call itself so….) BIG <sad face> Another day, another post…

Back to after-school shenanigans, in-jokes and why Fitty and I differ?

Yesterday, it was requested that I make “Magoo’s Famous Lemon Shortbread“. A sublime treat that appears at Christmas (by donation from Magoo), and was only recently mastered by the youngest of her daughter’s.

7 is known as the “Floor Queen and Mistress of Eating Icky Things”- When Pooh was a very young Puppy, I cooked her own special “Pooh Food”. 7 stepped right up and tasted it after noting it smelled delicious! (Eeew – pet mince.)She will pick anything up of the floor and eat it, quoting the 10 second rule.  So yesterday, when I dropped a piece of shortbread on the floor while transferring pieces into the bikkie-tin, I jokingly called out –

“Sooo 7…… I guess you’ll want this Floor Shortbread?”

Prompting an over-exagerrated, ear splitting shriek-

“NOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooorghhhh!!!!” AND a very fast run into the kitchen from 8!

(Now to say that 8 “loves his food” would be a massive understatement. He LIVES for his food. He is going to be a CHEF when he grows up. He can hear the crackle of a chip packet or chocolate wrapper opening from a distance of over 3km’s. Straight after breakfast, he wants to know when lunch is..?)

We all collapsed into uncontrollable laughter. Several times throughout the afternoon, wherever a negative answer was required, we took turns screaming,

“NOOOOOOOOooooooooo!” and falling about laughing.

See, we created yet another ‘Family In-Joke’ right there! This one will probably last for years…

Fitty arrives home in the midst of our laughing and screaming. We’re watching You Tube, and laughing our heads off at “Conversations with my 2 year old.” Check it out, it’s uber funny!

So rather than roll into our gaiety he stands back and does those little nose puff laughs. It’s not funny enough for him to fully engage in a snort or a snigger.

Increasingly stressed by our antics, (we’ve had a fairly good time and are a little over-excited.) I can see he’s not quite on the same page, but he’s trying.

He logs onto his computer, turns his back on us until dinner time.

At dinner 7 loses her shit big-time. She can barely breathe while she crows with laughter. I forget what it was that got her going, (at 13 it’s shamefully easy to set her off) but once she got going, it was infectious!! She hooted, warbled, snorted and literally squealed, prompting 6 to start flapping his arms like a bird. This just made her worse.

You know you truly love a kid when you can look at her with her mouth wide open, peas and beans mashed into her braces, and feel an overwhelming sense of affection.

Fitty was trying to control us, but in the end it was just too funny. We pretty much all had tears in our eyes by the end of dinner from laughing.

The kids doing the dishes was a disaster. 7 was drunk with delirium, couldn’t focus and couldn’t settle into the task, prompting Fitty to go into “OVERLORD” state. He stood at the kitchen and yelled until all was serious! What a downer! (But a necessary one I guess.)

I was still enjoying the madness, but left the room lest I snigger and start the whole process over. I’ll admit to standing at the door, making faces at him – going all “Dad” on the kids.

Fitty will be fully into it by tonight. It takes him a couple of days to get back into the noise, the fun, the energy of having teenagers around, whereas I’m straight into it from the first moment.

After the dishes were done, we all sat down to play “The MOST Inappropriate Card Game” I’ve ever seen. I refuse to name it because you will judge me if I do. But I’ll hint to the extent of telling you that it involves using phrases (that probably never should be said out loud in front of a 12 year old), to match with sentences containing blanks. The funniest sentence wins the point.

We had downloaded the game before dinner and cut all the pieces out ready for later. The game also had 3 sheets of RULES.

If 4 had been home we KNOW we would have had to not only “play by the RULES“, but also sit still and silent whilst she read them out aloud to us before beginning the game!

4 is the “Family Game Nazi” so called for her strict adherence to rules, regulations and seating plans which must be taken seriously!

Last night when we sat down to play, the rules lay untouched and face down. Totally ignored. (It was a straight forward game.) Somebody said something to the effect of –

“Pretty glad 4 isn’t here for this”…

Which had us all rolling around laughing yet again. (Sorry 4, you know we love you.)

We settled down again, began playing, and 7 said in a creepy voice

This family has waaay too many in-jokes!”

blog june 26

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