Sleepover 101

This weekend saw the Indian Wedding style festivities of Little Pencil’s  birthday.  I am pleased to report that I survived and I am writing to you from neither jail nor hospital.  This is a most unexpected but welcome outcome.

You see last night I bravely volunteered to let my son have three friends to sleep over on the night before his birthday party because:

  1. I am a complete sucker, especially for birthdays.  I have this ridiculous need to fulfill Little Pencil’s every desire and make his birthday perfect and he desperately wanted his friends to stay the night.
  2. I had said no to having them  sleep over the night before thinking that stretching it one day would somehow make it more bearable.  It didn’t
  3. I am insane

It all started quite worryingly with the parents of the friends constantly checking that I had not gone mad and then wishing me luck, in hushed and very serious tones.  I knew that I was onto a bad thing when people who weren’t even involved in the sleepover started wishing me luck.

But I persisted because my child was very excited, he was having three of his best friends to sleep.  Two boys and one girl.  Perfect, possibly because they are the naughtiest sweetest children you could ever hope to find. Perfect also because the next day was his party and after the party we were having 25 people for lunch.  Did I mention that I am insane?

It wasn’t ALL bad, in fact I learned quite a lot from my ordeal experience of having 4 friends over to sleep. Take note, my lessons may stand you in good stead:

  • When serving dinner to 4 children do not ask themwhat they want, because they will tell you. And it will not be consistent with what the others want.
  • If the children are allowed to choose a movie and there are three boys and one girl there will never be any consensus
  • If you ask the children if they want a treat while watching the movie they will roll their eyes at your stupidity.  As they well should.  Serving “treats” before sleeping is one of the signs of insanity that they check for in intense psychiatric assessments
  • They will all need the toilet at exactly the same time.  Each one of them will tell you that it is urgent and it cannot wait.
  • Nobody’s teeth will be properly brushed
  • There will be toothbrush envy
  • Someone will forget to brush their teeth at all and just pretend they have
  • One of the children will want the lights on, one will want the lights dim and one will want them off.  The fourth one will want a rotating combination of all three
  • The children will all ask for water as they get into bed even if they have just drunk litres of the stuff and even if they adamantly refused a glass 10 minutes before.
  • All four children will want to sleep on the top bunk
  • You will not sleep a wink because someone is on the top bunk
  • Someone will fart and the other three will become hysterical as a result
  • Someone will make an annoying noise with their leg
  • Someone will make an annoying noise with their mouth
  • Someone will make general annoying noises
  • Someone will end up lying the wrong way in the bed
  • As they are about to fall asleep one of the children, probably your own, will tell a really stupid joke
  • When everything is quiet and you can hear the regular breathing rhythm of two sleeping children someone will tell you that they cannot sleep. This is because they are sitting bolt upright in their bed and playing with a ball
  • Someone will snore
  • Someone will be scared of snoring
  • They will all wake up before 6am
  • They will all be in terrible moods the next day because they are over each other and they are exhausted

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The biggest problem is that the kids will forget the pain of exhaustion and want to do it again, they may even forget the shrill tones of your voice as you scream at them, beg them to go to sleep. You will be scarred and your defence mechanisms may be so low that you will have forgotten the intensity of it, in which case you will probably agree to do it again.

Don’t.

How do YOU relax ?

I am not so much a spa frequenter as a supermarket regular, such is my rockstar life. But this holiday I decided, given there was no supermarket in sight, I would treat myself to a spa treatment or two. Given that I am an anxious worrier this actually caused a bit of stress.

I spent hours on end poring over the brochures of every spa In Noose. I studiously read and reread the descriptions for every available treatment trying to work out the pros, the cons, the affordability and how I would get time away from my family.

Those of you who have read about my startling ability to be totally  seduced and overwhelmed by product will understand that reading the spa brochure was like putting a fully stocked mini bar in front of a weary traveling alcoholic.  Everything looked appealing and I truly believed that some of the treatments  would totally transform my skin and, in the really early hours of the morning when I was totally sleep deprived and vulnerable I believed a body wrap would make me look like a had completed regular triathlon training for at least 3 months.

So I obsessed and I compared and I budgeted and I convinced myself it would all be worth it.  In fact I was fully convinced after all my research that supermodels only look like they do because they frequent day spas not because they eat only celery and spend hours a day stretching as they step out of extensive cardio routines.  Make up and lighting didn’t interfere with my dreamy reverie.

My beauty transformation was going to take more than one treatment, and I had chosen the detox for my first activity I went in as stressed and anxious as the worst case the spa had ever seen.  What if I fainted? Got too sore? Broke out in a rash? Cried? Died?

It was actually peaceful and idyllic in the spa, a little piece of Noosa masquerading as Bali but at least it was clean and I was fairly
confident that I was not going to die (unless of course I was allergic to the oils they used).  They introduced me to my masseur and I was instantly transported in to the middle of “what the hell do I do now” land  She left me to undress and I almost ran away. Should I remove my bra? Should I have worn more sensible undies ? Will my body react to the massage by releasing wind? And where on earth do I put my clothes anyway?

As it turned out the massage was quite pleasant , if you like unbearable pain. Easier to withstand then the body wrap because at least during the massage I could focus on the pain.

The body wrap? That was an interesting way for me to learn that I am completely and utterly unable to focus on the present.

As I lay on the massage table and got scrubbed  and moisturised and buffed and showered by a very interesting overhead watering contraption, I tried so hard to enjoy myself. I tried to focus on right now,I tried to enjoy the touch, the sensation the feeling of the water on my body but instead my mind went into overdrive . Rotating in a noisy cycle were the following thoughts

  • I must ask Mr Pencil if he would like a body scrub and wrap
  • Should I write about this?
  • Stop and enjoy this for God’s sake
  • She is using a lot of towels, this is a lot of washing I am creating
  • I’m glad I’m not the person who has to clean this room
  • I wonder if they employ someone especially to do washing and cleaning
  • Do they use fabric softener? They mus?
  • Stay in the now, damn it!
  • Why do I shout at myself?
  • How do people meditate?
  • Feel that shower, it’s going to be over soon
  • Have I bought all the stationery on Little Pencil’s school list?
  • Does the therapist get bored doing her job?
  • Does the therapist think I’m fat?
  • Shut up brain and let the body relax
  • What if the water gets switched off at the mains and I can’t get this mud off my body?
  • This is amazing,  I wonder if I should do it again
  • This is a very expensive shower
  • This is wasting a LOT of water
  • Some people are homeless
  • What am I going to have for dinner?
  • Do supermodels get bored having their bodies pampered?
  • Why is it that I am so bad at maths
  • I think I would like to go overseas this year

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I came out looking exactly the same as I went in. Funny that.

But at least I had decided on what I should have for dinner and I was confident that I had bought everything on the stationery list.

How do you relax? Do you?

The floods

I cannot even begin to write about the floods, about the devastation and the horror in Queensland.  Nor can I express my amazement and faith in the  humanity and the compassion of the people of Queensland and Australia as a whole.

Mind blowing.

I really cannot write but I can provide this link and ask you all, if you haven’t already, to please donate
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www.qld.gov.au/floods/donate

 

 

2011 brought to you by Glandular Fever

My New Year’s resolutions this year are brought to me by glandular fever which is a terrible pity because so far the things that glandular fever have brought me are not very pleasant at all.  Unless you consider feeling like you exist in honey with a brain made of cotton wool to be pleasant.

In fact I am still coming to terms with the fact that I actually have an identifiable disease because I believe I am the world’s healthiest person, I just feel like shit.

I keep going for blood tests, and the doctor tries to insist that I have all sorts of pathological issues.   And not the ones that you read about in psychology textbooks. Although a different doctor…, nah forget it

I tried changing doctor and even that didn’t work – the new doctor said the same thing.  It’s a conspiracy.  And so, according to the world of medicine,  I have glandular fever.

Unfortunately I am not a very good glandular fever patient because apparently the best thing to do for this badly named* virus is to rest.  And I don’t know how to rest.  Seriously I find it nigh on impossible to relax when there is always so much to do, even if I am too tired to do it.

But my husband keeps forcing me to go to bed (and it is entirely different from the type of forcing me to go to bed that he does when I am well) and worse than that he keeps on suggesting things that I should do things differently.

So, in honour of Mr Pencil I have come up with some new year’s resolutions

  • I will go to bed at 10pm every night.  I wont actually be able to start this one straight away because if I go to sleep during our New Year’s Eve party I will be mocked forever more (not to mention very uncomfortable).  I also wont be able to do this one anytime ever because I have way too much to do after 10pm
  • I will not spend so much time on the computer. Rather I will sit on a chair and only my fingers will be on the computer keyboard
  • I will eat a healthier diet.  I will do this one.  In between eating chocolates and pure icing sugar (my current weak spot) I will eat very healthy food
  • I will not complain about my weight. Instead I will complain about how fat I feel…er wait.
  • I will not waste money on clothes that I never wear. I will wear all the clothes that I buy, how else will I see that I made a huge mistake when I bought them?
  • I will not play the same 17 songs over and over again on my iPod. I will download 17 new songs to play aloud and I will listen to the 17 I love when Mr Pencil is not home
  • I will drive a lot slower and try not to get any more traffic fines. I will try.  Really I will
  • I will look after my health. No more blood tests for me

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What are your new year’s resolutions and what made you decide on them?

*I believe a better, and more descriptive name for Glandular Fever is Zombie Fog.

The 11 things you need to know before you go Christmas shopping

I am not trying to be The Grinch and I am not out to insult Christmas shoppers. In fact, I’m trying to help them because even though I don’t celebrate Christmas I do have occasion to go to the shops in December. And I think Christmas shoppers need a little, er guidance so that I can be a lot um, quicker.

I spend quite a lot of time at the shops  because I buy Christmas presents for every adult that comes into contact with Little Pencil during the year  (but that is a post for another day). But, because my fellow shoppers seem to have no idea what they are doing, I am forced to spend a lot more time at the shop then I am entirely comfortable with

And so I have compiled a list of Christmas shopping guidelines to help out all the Christmas shoppers.  Here you go:

  • Shop online
  • Do not stand and examine your purchases at the bottom of the escalator. Examine them in the shop, preferably before you buy them and definitely before you get them gift wrapped
  • Do not try and span your family and friends across the entire walking path. I am not suggesting that you walk in single file. Wait.  Actually I am.
  • Do not sing along to the carols.  It irritates the people around you and makes you seem slightly insane
  • Do not give your   parcels their own seats in the coffee shop. Just don’t.  Such a close relationship with something that you are going to give away is not good for you
  • Do not make a big production about the colour ribbon the assistant chooses to use on the gift you are giving away.  Remember – you are giving it away. And you don’t get to keep the ribbon.
  • Do not attempt to pay for your Christmas gifts with the coins from your children’s piggy banks (unless you have counted out the money at home and placed it in bank bags in handy denominations).  Even if they are buying the present for their sibling or for you – help them out with real money
  • Do not write your Christmas cards at the counter where you are paying. Ever.  Even if it is a birthday card
  • If you are going to buy a whole lot of gift vouchers in varying denominations for an array of different people – bring a clear list that you have prepared at home. And stick to it
  • Remember that the shop assistants do not know what your uncle wants.  It is likely that they have never met your uncle
  • Shop in November. Early November

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Any rules that you can add?  Any hideous shopping experiences that you want to unload?

I don’t like cricket, I hate it

I know that this may be a highly controversial post but I don’t believe it is my writing or my reasoning that will cause the controversy – I think it will be the assenting comments.

I doubt I am alone when I say I don’t enjoy cricket.  Yup I said it and my Australian passport did not spontaneously combust.  And my South African family have not disowned me.

  • I hate that cricket and wicket rhyme.  What other sport needs a rhyme to remind you what you need to do?  Have you ever heard of a wennis, or a wootball? No ? I thought not.
  • I hate that my husband will not look up from the TV for 5 days although to me it looks like he is just watching the grass grow. I only know that’s not what he’s doing because occasionally he swears out loud or claps jubilantly. I am quite sure new shoots of grass would not elicit that response
  • I hate that my entire Saturday morning is spent watching the grass grow live! And yes I am watching the grass grow because, although I love to watch my son play sport, I do not understand the game very well.  For instance yesterday  morning I heard them all clapping and cheering his name.  I looked up at the field and there was lot of backslapping and hoisting of Little Pencil.  I thought it was because he is so sweet – but apparently it was because he took a wicket (not to be confused with a woccer which you don’t score at soccer)*
  • I hate that as the chief of washing clothes in this house* I have to wash a white cricket uniform.  Why on earth would they put boys who skid all over the grass while chasing a red ball, in a white pair of pants?
  • I hate that I try to escape the  cricket in the house only to be accosted by it on Twitter.  And worse it is not just dull people wearing beige, cream, off white, ivory and white that are tweeting about the cricket – it is actual people in colour.  That I like.
  • I hate that I can’t listen to the radio that I like because I don’t have a digital radio and Richard Glover and James Valentine are regularly replaced by ridiculously boring cricket commentary on analogue radio.  It is one thing to watch the grass grow – but to listen to it on the radio?  That just makes absolutely no sense
  • I really don’t like a game that does not clearly define who is winning and who is losing right from the beginning.  I need to know this in order to have any sense of engagement with the game.  Every time I ask my husband who is winning a match he looks at me as if I am a little slow.  I think that is ridiculous considering he can usually only answer my question at the end of the day or sometimes even worse, , five days later
  • I think that a game that has a “tea break” is just poncy
  • It takes sooo long.  No-one ever said “let’s play a quick game of cricket” with a straight face
  • There are positions in the cricket game like “third man” and “silly mid off”.  I think that speaks for itself
  • I was once bitten by cricket.  I loved Hansie Cronje, the late great South African cricketer.  I stayed up all night watching him cheat while my husband went to sleep!  It turns out that “the devil made him do it**. Or at least that is what he says.  And maybe that explains it all

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So do you love cricket? Do you even understand it? Will you explain it more patiently than my husband did?

*see first point

** the devil made Hansie cheat but it also made my husband go to sleep in the middle of a match

Not a happy camper

Little Pencil is on school camp and I am not a happy camper.  He is , I’m sure.  He is surrounded by friends and having a ball (I hope to God he is anyway – I don’t know because we are not allowed to phone the campsite 78 times a day for some reason I just can’t fathom)

I hate the fact that he is on camp.  I know  it’s good for him, I know he’s happy and excited and well taken care of.  I know that he’s probably not missing me and that he is having an amazing experience, I promise I do know that.  But it’s not about him. It’s about me – I am a wreck.

You see I am a control freak and a smothering mother – not a good combination when your only child goes on school camp

  • I hate the fact that I have no idea what his bed looks like
  • I miss his voice
  • I hate that fact that I don’t know if he is eating
  • I miss his laugh
  • I hate the fact that he can’t be contacted
  • I even miss his nagging
  • I hate the fact that I don’t know what his day entails
  • I miss his cuddles
  • I hate the fact that he is over an hour away from home (don’t laugh – I am feeling sensitive)
  • I miss his persistent chatter
  • The dog is a right off – he’s so confused I can’t get him off Little Pencil’s bed

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But it’s only two days and so I am trying to think about all the good things

  • I don’t miss cooking dinner
  • It’s only two nights
  • I don’t miss packing school lunch
  • I get to bath for two uniterruped hours if I like

Nah, it’s not working – I miss him.

Call me over protective, call me neurotic but please don’t call me till Friday I’ll be sulking until then

What did you learn at high school?

I read in the newspaper yesterday that there is a college in London that has a course in which they teach teens to walk in heels “to prepare them for the business world and their social lives” (yes you are correct – I was not reading The Financial Review).

I initially thought that this was a huge travesty – a complete waste of valuable education time and resources.  And then I thought long and hard and I remembered high school.  Upfront I can tell you – there is very little that I learned from my high school text books that I use in my business or social life

  • I know that there are three rock types – igneous, sedimentary and metamorphic – but until this very moment I have never had to recall that information before
  • I recall with some misplaced fondness dissecting a flower to find its stigma, style and ovary but I can guarantee you that I have never once been to a friend’s house or even a restaurant and had to pull that trick out of my hat to keep the people entertained.
  • I know how to look up sin, cosine and tangent in a log book (okay I don’t really but I do remember those terms and that is saying something) but not since my HSC has someone even suggested I do something vaguely similar to that.
  • I can recite great big chunks of Shakespeare and I can even quote some Afrikaans and Hebrew texts (there is something to be said for going to a Jewish school in South Africa) but I cannot remember anyone trying to get me to do this at work.  In fact I once tried but I was in Australia and when I recited Afrikaans poetry I think there was some consensus that I needed a mental health day. Or three.
  • I remember learning a whole heap of dates in History classes.  I also remember forgetting those dates straight after the exam.  Cramming can only stay in your head for so long.

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But there are things that I learned at high school that have stayed with me through the years and that I really do use in my business and social life.

  • I learned that any sandwich tastes better with corn chips in the centre
  • I learned that you can get away with almost anything if you are hiding in a cubicle in the girl’s toilets, however cigarette smoke can be smelt from quite some distance
  • I learned that you can make a long skirt considerably shorter with a few roll downs on the waist
  • I learned that if you are not allowed to wear have no make up you can pinch your cheeks very hard until they have a red “glow” and you can use texta on your lips.  But you will not look very good.
  • I learned that in the long run good friends are more important than good grades – sorry people who are studying hard at school.  I believe this is true
  • I learned that the “mean” kids were just insecure and that the “cool” kids were only cool because we saw them that way. They were really no different from anyone else. Sadly I only learned this on about the last day of high school.

So maybe teaching kids to walk in high heels is not so silly.  God knows I can’t walk in them now.

What did you learn in high school that wasn’t in the text book?  And does anyone remember how to use a log book?

Rain.

It has rained for almost three weeks now.  I have not become a meteorologist , I am really not that into weather charts and I don’t know much about highs and lows (well I do but not when associated with isobars and synoptic charts) but I don’t see the rain stopping any time soon.  Maybe this is because it is the rainy season or maybe, just maybe it is because we are renovating and builders cannot lay bricks in the rain.

It is not the first time that I have controlled the weather though.  You see, although I know absolutely nothing about it , I do believe that it is my life that affects it. (I know that this sounds insanely egotistical and well, like the weather revolves around me – but I am not egotistical at all and I do have a lot of scientific evidence to provide my point (scientific meaning “it really happens”).  Unfortunately while I am responsible for creating the weather it often works against me

  • If I wash my car it will rain.  I know a lot of people believe this happens to them.  They may be right sometimes.  But it definitely happens to me. All the time
  • If I go on a picnic it will blow a gale.  Sometimes only in the specific picnic spot where we are sitting but while we are trying to eat there that spot is all that really counts
  • If I have to watch a sporting event (think school carnival) it will be so hot as to cause harm to my skin
  • If I have an outfit preplanned for a function the weather will be the polar opposite of what I had planned for. There is no use telling me to plan for both because I am not that organised.
  • If there is rain in the air the clouds will open up at 3:15pm exactly.  School pick up is at 3:30pm

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And before you think I am terribly negative not at all appreciative of the fact that I control the weather, I should remind you that there are times when my controlling the weather works perfectly

  • I have never experienced rain at the beach
  • I have only ever once planned an outdoor party and had to move it indoors (and that was because I was neurotic not because I had to)
  • I am not one of those people whose hair straightening efforts summon the humidity.  In fact when I straighten my hair the weather largely stays the same
  • It never rains on me when I take the dog for a walk (this may be because I don’t walk him on overcast days but still….)
  • I have never experienced a severe weather phenomenon – not even a hail mark on my car

Sadly though it does seem that if I renovate my house – it rains. Solidly. For three weeks and counting.

Welcome to my humble abode

It seems that my last post prompted quite a few people to think that I had taken complete leave of my senses.  And it’s true. I am a little stressed. I have no words for it so I will allow the pictures to do the talking today.

Please remember as you look through the rubble my pictures, that I am a control freak.   I hate mess and I love my home.


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Now this is not the way the entrance always was, for instance we never had a wheelbarrow as the main point of focus as guests enter the house.  Not even to gather gifts.  I am however thinking of leaving a similar gift receptacle in the finished house.

We also had beautiful arches.  We did not have bits of concrete around the ceiling all jagged and exposed.

This is the entrance to my house, it is not what I would term "inviting"

-

This gorgeous cell wall is actually the wall of my bedroom.  Are you beginning to understand my trauma?

.

This is the bathroom – I don’t really think I need to say anything more.

-

Oh wait – I’ll show you the kitchen

.

-

But it’s not all bad. Really.  Look at the very solid and lovely bolts that they have put in place so that the house does not fall apart in the horrific winds and rain that we are experiencing.

.

And also there is the fact that everything is going according to plan.  Hopefully they don’t knock down the walls the plans are written on.

.

Seriously.  Now do you understand why I am not completely in my comfort zone?  I know how lucky I am and I really appreciate the fact that the end result will totally outweigh all this angst but if anybody has something that will help me to sleep until October I would really appreciate that.