shadow puppets

It is 8:26pm.

My children are currently playing shadow puppets with their nightlights in their room. I'm pretending I can't hear them, just like I pretend not to see the secret-biscuit-stealing from the pantry that they indulge in from time to time.

Yesterday, Levi told me he wanted me to go and be a teacher again. Just like that. Mummy, I want you to go and be a teacher again so I can go to kindy every day. It's not fun with you. Did I take it personally? You bet. A few days prior when I informed him that we were having stuffed arancini for dinner he rang his Nanny and asked to go and live there, with a stop for a McDonald's cheeseburger along the way.

Did I mention they call me Queen Mummy Fun Police?

There are times I am certain that goat herding would be a more fulfilling profession.

I've been doing this SAHM-ing gig for nearly five years now. At times it's really not unlike being pecked to death by a chicken.

But then there are the other times. The times where you almost expect some slow, sweeping music from a movie soundtrack to start playing as you have that blissful moment with your child. While I don't quite believe the little old ladies in the supermarket who always pick the most inopportune moment to tell me that 'these are the best days of your life', I can understand a sweet nostalgia creeping in as my small ones grow.

Levi crept into the bed at four am this morning, and snuggled in next to Shan. I, the resident insomniac, lay awake and watched the light creep into the room, before turning my eyes to my boys, curled up exactly as they used to even when Levi's foot was no longer than my thumb. Scarley is ever-so-quickly losing her baby-ness, determined to keep up with the big two, to not miss out on anything. We talk phonics in the car now, at their request, and I seem to be producing endless amounts of sandwiches and pasta, eternal 'kid food'. I've read Where Is The Green Sheep so many times that during one bedtime story reading after a particularly long day, I realised I was reciting the words exactly as they go in the book, while Scarley held it upside down and flipped randomly.

They scream in the car. They pinch each other in the car. They fight over Scout. They are of the run-of-the-mill-finicky-eater-variety {garlic bread, even, is out, as it has Green Things}. Bee sleeps with approxmiately seventeen stuffed animals and wakes screaming if one dares to fall out.

They are good kids. I teach them about their world, and in turn, they teach me how to be their mama. They hold a mirror up to me and teach me things about myself I never knew. 

They are good kids.

They're still making shadow puppets.

rocking the suburbs

My day in a nutshell:

Levi and Bee up at 5. Woke the rest of us with their arguing. Scarley meltdown. Floors mopped. Bathroom cleaned. Scarley scaled, and fell off kitchen bench. Left for park. Park playdate. Left for supermarket so I could buy tofu for highly-coveted peking tofu dinner. Big two fought. Scarley meltdown. Little old lady informed me these were the best days of my life. Video store. Levi and Bee select a DVD each. Scarley meltdown. I give up on selecting my own. Return home. Discover I left the gate open and the dog has gone missing. Neighbour returns dog. Discover sunglasses are missing. Search for sunglasses. Look in car and discover tofu has fallen out of the shopping bag and is now inedible. Consider crying. Abandon crying as now cat has escaped. Retrieve cat. Call mother. Lecture children on why conducting shadow puppet theatre at 9pm is unacceptable. Start to mow. Girls lose the plot. Give up and listen to music on headphones while children watch playschool. Start to cook dinner. Scarley meltdown. End up sitting on kitchen floor crying surrounded by bay leaves with hysterical Scarley on lap. Make dinner. Mow. Shower. Read Green Eggs and Ham multiple times. Vodka. Send husband out for takeaway.

In case you missed it, in September last year, we bought a house. Our first house. And we've slowly been turning it into our home. Somewhere that is not only our refuge and place of calm, but somewhere that we feel proud to call our own.

So last week I mowed the lawn. Up until now it's been Shan's job- but as he's been busy, and we're eliminating one gender stereotype at a time, I did it. The same thing happened this week- he's been getting home really late, and it needed doing. So I attempted to do it.

But couldn't find my sunglasses, and due to paranoia about being blinded by a flying pebble, I waited until Shan was home. By this point I had a badly mascara-tracked face. I was wearing my maternity pants and my 'only kale can save us now' tank. I'd borrowed Shan's sunglasses- they're currently broken, and one of the bits-that-go-over-your-ears has snapped off. In desperation to get the fecking job done already, I borrowed Bee's  Snow White headband to hold them in place.

The neighbours think I'm mad.

But the lawn looks great.

ballerina girl

Bee's just started ballet lessons.

{To be honest, I'm not sure if she likes ballet, or dressing up in pink and having me to herself for two hours every Saturday morning}.

She's mastering the art of demi-plies and pointing her toes. I'm mastering the art of crawling around on the bedroom floor muttering "where are the fecking bobby pins" every Saturday morning with five minutes to spare before we need to leave. {Guess what I forgot to buy while grocery shopping. Again.}

She's in love with the full-length mirrors, and the pale pink chiffon, the ribbons for her hair. The music, and the twirling...they seem to spend a large amount of time being princesses. Or butterflies. Or fairies. She's determined to arabesque, and pirouette....one day.

{She's also in love with her tap shoes. They keep getting "accidentally" left in the car so she can't tap all day, every day, throughout the house. Shame.}

the 'gold class at home' menu

Most Friday nights, Shan and I try to have some sort of 'date night'. Sometimes, he goes to the gym. Sometimes, I go out with friends. And sometimes, we're just too tired to organise anything. Very nearly all of the time, our date nights are at-home.

Tonight, it centered around watching a DVD on the lounge. Until I posed the question of dinner. And Shan replied, "how about we have the kind of food you would get in Gold Class?"
Give me a reason to create a menu, and I'm all over it. Especially when it doesn't have to cater to the tastebuds of people under five years of age.

So, for our Gold-Class-At-Home-Experience, I prepared...

*Ranch flavoured popcorn {easier than it sounds, just a combination of salt, pepper, dried onion, garlic, and dill}

*Shoestring fries with ketchup

*Marinated chicken wings

*Garlicky white bean dip with tortilla chips, snow peas, and carrots to dip

*Chocolate dipped strawberries {dipped in dark chocolate, with white choclate flicked over the top to make them look a little bit fancier}

*And of course, good sparkling wine.