Jelly Bean Joy...

Contrary to the title, this is not about The JellyBean that I am currently incubating, this is actually about a parcel that arrived yesterday.

I told Miss 3 the parcel was for her - she almost did herself a facial injury, such was the girth of her grin.

When she started to froth at the mouth I put that down to...er...sherbert she inexplicably obtained in the car.

We couldn't get in the house fast enough and she was clawing at the package like a deranged squirrel. After a few minutes she reluctantly agreed to let me be of some assistance.

If I don't look at you, will you stop asking if I need help?

Fine, you helped, now go away - I can do this myself!

After much frenzied shaking of the bag and torturing glimpses of the pink mystery item inside, it finally emerged...

Is it a bird...?

Is it a plane...?

Hell Yeah! It's a pair of Jelly Shoes!!!

Honestly, I had totally forgotten that Miss 3 won a pair of Jelly Shoes from the fabulous Jess at Diary of a SAHM, so it was a great way to end the week!

She needed to put them on NOW, so she did. It took a lot longer because she wouldn't stop moving her feet in a happy jig.

And that makes it hard to get shoes on.

But the overall effect is one of intense joy...

Jeeeeeeeeeelly Shoooooooooes!!

Ugh, Mum didn't do this up right. *sigh*

Happy in my Jeeeeeelly Shoooooooes!!

So thank you Jess and thank you Jelly Beans Shoes - Miss 3 is thrilled (so am I) and we have a new pair of daycare shoes that can wash off without a fuss, are easy on her feet and are great for the climate.

Thank goodness, because just this week she was stating to tell me her sneakers were hurting her toes. Your timing rocks!

Thank you!!

The Happiest Place on Earth - A Birthday Party in Pictures...

21 January 2012, somewhere in the Northern Territory, 2 little girls celebrated their 3rd year of life with their friends and family...

The biggest birthday cake ever...

Complete with goodie bags...

It was a Mickey Mouse Club House themed extravaganza with enough food and cake to feed an army...and a third of our fridge now contains half of this cake...

Miss 3 and her pass the parcel...

More pass the parcel fun...

Pass the parcel was played after some swimming - Birthday girl parents plied guests with as much food as humanly possible...and then provided some more...

Singing Happy Birthday for the 2 Birthday Girls!

Naturally, following overwhelming amounts of food, cake must be served!  We sang and blew out candles to celebrate 2 little girls...and braved the water for some indigestion-busting pool time...

Swimming...we swam for approx. 85% of the time.

2 Birthday girls having fun in the pool.

And at the end of it all 2 little girls fell asleep...and 4 parents collapsed in a heap...but not before this Mummy realised that next year it's all our turn...

2 Birthday Girls on their special day, in their favourite place...

Next year the cake will obviously have to have it's own postcode.

Why It's Not Cool to be Married to a Sympathy Spewer

I love the Guru. I honestly do - more than words. Hence the whole marriage and baby thing.

And there are many things I love about him: his eyes, his sense of Humour, his butt, his ability to fix anything computer related, his ability to open jars and mow the lawn without shredding his toes.

But I have to say, there's one major thing about him that makes me want to email the Husband.com people and ask them to review their programming.

The Toddler is getting her molars, and she has a bit of a cold at the moment. On Saturday night she wasn;t well...and it began in the car.

We had just left my parents place after a BBQ with some friends up from Adelaide...the Toddler was in her car seat, Shrek was playing and everything was fine. 2 corners later, everything was not so fine.

You know how it works. The coughing, the splutter and then the tell-tale gagging. The car was swerved into the curb and I was promptly unbuckled and shoved out the door to get to the Toddler (yes, you read correctly, he took my seatbelt off and even opened the door for me...but it wasn't so much chivalrous as it was desperate and panicky).

I open the back door to behold a small child who's dressing gown, pyjamas and car seat are now coated in congealed milk and undigested chunks of watermelon. No mysterious carrot chunks though. Awesome.

I got in the back seat with the Toddler and wiped off as much as I could from her face, and tried to keep her calm.

But it was difficult to remain composed when I had Swerving Charlie driving the car, with all the windows down, hanging out the door gasping for air and eyes as big as dinner plates. The panic had set in.

Because the Guru is a sympathy spewer.

Of all the things to be sensitive to, it had to be spew. Seriously, if he couldn't handle poo, blood or phlegm I would be more sympathetic. Aside from the poo, the other items you don't really encounter too often (hopefully). And I do 98% of the poop duties anyway, so it wouldn't be making life any messier.

But when it comes to vomit, and the knowledge that I have to deal with it alone, all I want to say is "take a cement pill and harden the f&*k up, buddy".

So we make it back to my parents place and the Guru runs inside the house with the speed of a squirrel on caffeine.  I'm hoping that a) he had enough time to put the handbrake on, because he didn't have time to turn the car off, and b) that he's getting help. Any help. For the love of god, GET HELP!

I pour the Toddler out of the car, and strip her off on the grass. My Mum quietly appears behind me with a blanket, scoops up the Toddler, gives me a squeeze and says she'll take care of everything.

I turn back to the car while my Mum takes the Toddler in for a warm bath and a change of pyjamas, and view the damage. Thankfully it's not gone any further than the car seat, and the car won't smell like spew for a month. Because the Guru would LOVE that.

Meanwhile, with me up to my armpits in vomit, the Guru is nowhere to be seen. Bastard.

I completely understand that with his crippling infliction he would be zero assistance, but some moral support just by being in the same postcode while I deal with the 'unpleasantness' would be better than nothing.

When we finally head home (again!) I find him sitting in the car, and given that everything coated in vomit is now OUTSIDE the car, all the windows are up, the doors are LOCKED (just in case the smelly car seat tried to carjack him...) and he's even got the heater recycling the air from within the car.

He views the Toddler with fear - am I sure she's not got any spew on her? Am I sure the car won't start to smell again? Am I sure I won't smell of spew and make him sick?

I answer "yes", "yes" and "yes" with a mental note of 'I'm sure I don't smell of spew, but I might punch you and make you feel sick anyway'.

To wrap up the remainder of the evening, we made it home without incident, the Guru flicking his glance back to the Toddler every few seconds - just in case she tried to launch a surprise attack on him.

We get home, and after another vomit session I decide to sleep in the loungeroom on a make-shift 'vomit-proof' bed with the Toddler.

If I had to tackle bedding or anything with vomit on it while a fully grown man cowered in the bedroom, again, my sanity might have slipped away forever.

Thankfully the rest of the night was vomit free...which gave me ample time to decide on an appropriate punishment for the Guru.

So tell me, what 'sympathies' does your significant other have that drive you mad?  Please - let me know that I'm not alone...

Wolf Creek John Jarrett and the GPS of Death on a Long Weekend

Sounds dramatic, huh?  Well, dramatic it may be, but it's completely and utterly true. For a few hours on the long weekend I honestly thought Wolf Creek John Jarrett was going to jump out and get us:

I'll never see Wolf Creek - the ad's alone made me want to cry

It was the disturbing close to a rather full weekend.

Saturday was a nothing day - and I'm not ashamed to admit that I slept all day. I left the Guru to manage the Toddler and I snoozed the day away on the couch, occasionally opening one eye to view the child-cyclone-path-of-destruction that surrounded me. I decided to just pretend it was all part of her Pro Hart phase and we'd soon be making money out of this kind of mess. It settled my mind enough to go back to sleep, and that's all that mattered.



I didn't see a dragonfly on my floor so much as a dragonfly poop

Sunday rolled around quickly, much to my disgust, but it was a shopping day and we went and bought some clothes, a DVD kit for inside the car and some other stuff. Once the shopping was complete, the Guru went home to have a lie down (it's the stress of spending money, see) and the Toddler and I continued on to the Greek Glenti that was being held on the Esplanade.

My Mum and a friend of the family from Japan came with us, so I had help wrangling the Toddler through the masses of people. We were all cool, calm and collected until suddenly my child tried to leap from my arms and burst my eardrum with a screech of 'DIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEGO MUMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!' Needless to say, it appeared that Diego, the cousin of Dora the Explorer, was on stage and it was imperative that we get to the stage NOW.

I can't say my day would have been lacking if I didn't have to endure the 20 minutes of mindless babble from a man in a large costume. And 20 minutes was all the Toddler was prepared to witness because after this time she turned to me and said 'Enough now Mummy, we go somewhere else.' Apparently she was disappointed in the quality of the entertainment - it was pointed out to me that the animals weren't real.

Step it up Diego, next time the Iguanas and the birds need to be real, and trained to speak and act.



Fresh from the set of his latest James Bond movie, Frank Iguana is looking for a new career challenge...

So we abondoned Diego to complete his 'quest' alone, and were subsequently swallowed by an ocean of people who swept us up and dropped us neatly in front of a bouncy castle. Awesome.

We spent 15 minutes on the bouncy castle, until the Toddler's foot found a patch of castle that had been baking in the sun. Cue tears and a desperate attempt to launch herself off the castle to escape the lava pit she had just encountered.

Once feet were soothed, we moved on to the teacups. The GIANT teacups. Which the Toddler begged her Nanna to take her on. So both lined up, and all was fine with the cheery-emo teenager controlling his giant teacup ride with all the pride he could muster. I have a feeling it's a more satisfying job than making burgers at McDonald's or stacking shelves at Coles.

Because at night you could sneak back, plug in your teacups and ride them for as long as you liked.

Sneaking back to Maccas or Coles in the middle of the night to plug something in and ride it will most likely just get you arrested. And then fired.



Teacups - helping children spew since forever.


The Toddler happily waited the 5 or so minutes for her turn and finally got into a teacup with her Nanna. But sadly, the cheery-emo youth was replaced by the evil-emo youth who wore 3 watches and only let the kids ride for 3 minutes. Which was about how long it took him to get the ride up to speed.

It was somewhat anti-climatic and I could tell by the look on the Toddler's face.

I threw evil-emo the evil eye and hoped that his Carney instincts would make him realise he had just been cursed.



Except that I was less cat and more person...

And if he didn't notice the curse, then losing a testicle will just come as a pleasant surprise.

Anyway, we moved on to a motorbike ride, which the Toddler took on like Casey Stoner was her Dad. Which he's not. She loved that ride, and rode the mini bike like she owned it. She chose the red one too - because red goes faster.

It was a day full of Kodak Moments and times that I cursed the idiots who flogged our camera - so, hopefully, when their testicles fall off it will be a pleasant surprise for them, too.

Finally it was time to go home and recover. The Toddler was in bed at 7:30pm. I was in bed at 7:35pm.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After the best nights sleep ever I woke up and decided that today was the day to text everyone I haven't talked to in a while.

This included my friend who had a baby 6 weeks ago, my friend who had a baby 4 weeks ago and my cousin who is due to give birth in 4 weeks.

As 2/3 of these people are in South Australia, it seemed more appropriate to visit the baby who lives in the same state. And her Mum, of course. Ahem.

So I got the address of their new place, loaded myself and the Toddler in the car and went and spent a small fortune at Target in a 'holy crap I still haven't got my friend's baby anything' shopping fit.

I think Target hates me. They always seem to be having a sale on cute clothing in the Toddler's size. Which would be fine had I not promised the Guru that my last spree at Pumpkin Patch would be the last foray into clothing land for a while.

A while, in his mind, being 6 or so months.

A while, in reality and when I'm unsupervised, was actually a matter of hours.

The shame. It burns.

Anyhoo, the Toddler and I had some lunch and then loaded in the car once more. I was super excited to be able to use the GPS in the car for the first time. Well, the first time where I didn't actually know where I was going. Getting directions home from work is slightly redundant when you've been travelling the same way for 3 years.

I was slightly disturbed when the GPS showed me my route on the map. It looked a little something like this:



In the middle of nowhere is where John Jarrett likes to choose his prey...

At that point I was grateful for a full tank, full stomachs and drink bottles. Worst case scenario, I've watched part of an episode of Man Vs Wild, and I think I could cope...probably...


So off we go....and go....and go. I get a call from the Guru voicing concern that we've been gone for several hours. I advise him that I'm currently driving roads I didn't even know existed in the NT, and that I'm not sure if we'll make it home alive.

The Toddler was asleep, and this gave me ample time to consider our situation;

A) Driving in an unfamiliar area
B) Potentially lost...the GPS likes to update me occasionally, reminding me to continue for another 20km's, but I'm on a straight road so it's not like I have options.
C) The tree's are starting to look eerily like they were filmed in Wolf Creek
D) I believe we may be the next victims of Wolf Creek
E) When John Jarrett jumps out of the next bush I must not stop to check that he's dead. Serial killers always fake death to trap you. I will not be fooled!!

After driving for enough time for Shrek 4 to play twice (almost) we made it.

No thanks to John Jarrett.

The next time we go visit, I'll be prepared.



I'd like you to meet our family bodyguard

The drive home was uneventful, but still un-nerving. John Jarrett had obviously hacked into the GPS as it kept telling me to continue into the desolate distance.
And today on my way to work, it kept telling me to do a u-turn and drive to my death.

Pressing buttons at random hasn't achieved anything thus far, so I'm thinking a trek into the users manual is a wise choice.

Wish me luck.

Friday Fluff

My Little Chef

Pictures like this make me wish weekends lasted forever...

Tuesday Fluff - 'cos I've no idea where Friday went...

or the weekend for that matter!

Oh wait, Saturday and the early hours of Sunday morning were spent out to dinner with friends.

But that aside, I have no idea what I did! I was doing washing at stupid hours on Sunday night....and snuck some in yesterday since I was home.

The guru is impressed with the echoing silence in our home at the moment. I have laryngitis.

The Toddler does not - and she feels the need to fill these extended silences from me with random noise. Hey, whatever floats your boat, baby girl.

So, just quickly I'm gonna do the fluff thang...

No one can rock plastic pumpkin basket earrings like my little one. I'm just saying.

SO - here I am. It's 3pm and I've done some work related stuff on the computer, gone to the gym and have come back to work. As far as productive days go, this one is right up the top with the day I gave birth.

I have fully realised that I've been mega slack with this blog lately. There have been as many extended silences on here as there have been in my office today. Which is highly unusual.

But for some reason nothing lately seemed blog-worthy. Or if they did, they seemed slightly too whingy so I didn't pop them up. I went on a mass delete of all the half started posts that went nowhere and found myself back to staring at a blank screen.

Arse.

Maybe I have to get my blogging mojo back on track? Making sure I actually put Fluff up on Friday, doing Spruikers Sunday on time...and then try to fill in the rest of the week before I can go to FYBF.

But I do have to say I am putting a massive THANK YOU out there to the following amazing people who have brightened my day...

Mrs Woog - Got the Cocktails at Naptime you sent and I may or may not have completely ignored my child while I bummed on the couch and read it cover to cover in a day. My stomach muscles thank you for the work out but my child may or may not be sending 'WTF have you done to my Mum!?' mail to you. But this will be up to your interpretation as it is simply crayon scribble...on the back of a Special K box. Maybe. 
Also, winning a copy of Corrine Grant's book was another highlight that my husband will have to work very hard to erase at Christmas.

The Husband - For accepting the 3 items listed on my Christmas wishlist...and recognising without having to ask that they are not negotiable, optional or solitary and that if all 3 are under the tree he might get sex.
Might.

The Toddler - For making the most of Mummy being silent. Sitting on benches and using the tea/coffee/sugar jars as Bob Marley bongo drums while I wash dishes. Reminding me I need to clean out cupboards by emptying them of their contents and then showing me proudly how everything in the pantry can cover the kitchen floor. By finding the cash register that speaks Spanish and is girlish-ly high pitched and LOUD and playing the one phrase over and over and over and over and OVER AGAIN (remind me to thank your grandparents for finding that for you...).
For making me look forward to the day when my voice returns and I can say 'confiscated' again in an audible tone over the voice of that Spanish biatch.

And for blatantly ignoring my pathetic attempts at miming responses to your questions and for not being scared when the miming causes the car to swerve.

So there you go - all caught up for a Tuesday afternoon.

Now to find something to crap on about for tomorrow.

Reality Blogging

It's back!! YEAH!!

So...this is the result of me tidying the house and letting the Toddler do her own thing...

So the house may have been tidy but our child was now a walking Picasso - but I don't know that Picasso ever used a fine black felt-tip pen.

Needless to say the pen has been put in a place so safe I can't even find it anymore.

The thing that impressed me the most was she didn't get any on her clothes...clever girl knows that if Mummy soaks anything it just doesn't come back from the laundry.

It's a weekend - of chores.

I find I can work better under pressure - it's no good giving me something with a deadline 6 months into the future - tell me you need it 4 weeks out and I'm your girl.

I've always been this way. All through school, my best work was devised in the wee hours of the morning an assignment was due.

Now I'm at work I find I'm far more efficient if I have competing deadlines, something due on top of something else and then something due on top of that.

If I have too long to think about things I often over think it and the quality isn't as good.

Yeah, sounds strange I know, but it's how I roll.

So why does it irk me so much when the Guru chooses to tell me we're going to have someone visit, the morning they're due to pop round? I love last minute things - but last minute tidying and rushing around to make the house look less like a rubbish tip and more like a respectable home just doesn't fly with me.

In fact - it makes me quite angry.

But I'm finding it hard to stay angry because the Toddler is currently trying to trim my toenails.

Yeah, our family is all class. I'm just grateful she's not using her teeth.

So back to the point. I'm now aware that we've got someone coming over today. And I'd much rather meet them at a cafe to catch up. But the Guru wants to show her around the house.

I may just tip him upside-down and use his head as a broom and a mop.

It's Saturday - I don't want to clean. I can't be bothered. I thought that would be evident by the pile of dishes accumulating in the sink. Apparently that's not obvious enough.

Maybe I'll stop taking the rubbish out and let it spill on to the floor? Would that be proof enough of how much I don't want to clean and how much I don't want to have people over this weekend?

Yes, I'm showing my anti-social side. But I'm also showing my love of cafe's and other places to eat and meet friends. Places that have staff to clean. Paid staff. That I don't have.

If the cleaning faeries decided to pay me a visit I'd be extremely grateful - for about 5 minutes until the Guru and the Toddler destroyed the cleanliness and I wanted the faeries to come back again.

Maybe that's why cleaning - no matter how good you feel after it's done - is so completely unsatisfying in the long term. Short of wrapping the entire house in a filth repelling layer of something...for example...

Uploaded to Flickr by a_fake_mail

...I'm not sure how to avoid the inevitable mess and disorder that will result once they enter my pristine environment.

No matter how much I scrub the toilet, our family are required to use it. And yes, I have considered making the Guru go to the neighbour's house and use their loo. He had a large problem with this, so the idea has been shelved for further consideration and review.

Overall I'm just waiting for the wave of hysteria to flow over me knowing I only have 2 hours before our visitor is due. Right about then my alter-ego will show up and a miracle will occur.

When I'm cleaning the Guru imagines something like this will be flitting around the house...

The poor man is obviously deluded. The reality is actually something more like this...

Gledwood2.blogspot

And now, looking at the clock it's about that time where Super-Mario-Cleaning-Nut makes her appearance and gets the job done.

Have a lovely Saturday all!!

Sanity has returned....with pictures!

Okay - so after my explosive announcement yesterday that we were at the Powderfinger concert for their Susents Farewell Tour - I am pleased to advise I have returned, vocal volume at an appropriate level and hearing back to normal.

It was an amazing performance - I loved every minute of it. The guys did a brilliant job and it's just awesome how good they sound live.

You know how, chances are, Brittney Spears probably sounds like 2 cats in a fight when she sings live (hence the whole lip-syncing issue)? Well Powderfinger actually sound like...well...Powderfinger! But better! I now view the radio edits as travesty's against the brilliance of them.

But anyway...I promised pictures - and since I rarely include pictures I expect ooooh's and aaahah's of awe as you view...

And I know what you're thinking...I thought the same thing when I saw this pic...but, no - I bought the tickets online, they were not delivered by the hand of God or beamed down by the Starship Enterprise. But if they were beamed down I would earn some serious brownie points with the Guru for my connections.

And so we move on - to JET!!

Oh yeah - they were on fire baby. And I was stunned that there were 7000 people at the concert - which, let's face it, is about 85% of the population of Darwin (or not - whatever).

And now, it is my pleasure to present...Powderfinger...

Can you tell the difference between these guys, and JET?

Yep - that's right - the lead singer for Powderfinger is Bernard Fanning and JET's is...some other guy.

We had so much fun...I just have to put in some more pics...

Yeah - I know you can't see the actual band - but I was stuck with an iPhone camera. My awesome one was sitting at home on the bench - where I put it - so I wouldn't forget it. Or something like that anyway.

But I promise that me and 6,999 other people weren't just standing around looking at an empty stage while a bunch of people flicked coloured lights on and off in some sort of timed routine.

We may live in Darwin, but we're not THAT sad!

Anyway. To mark the occasion the Guru felt the need to purchase some memorabilia...

Because how can life be complete without a straw hat and a Powderfinger Pre-Skool romper for your daughter?

Yeah, that's what I thought, too.

I suggested that we should try and get the romper signed. I was told that if anything remotely living and Powderfinger-ish in nature was to touch the romper it would be going behind glass and never touched by human hands. And possibly submitted to the Guggenheim for consideration in their modern art collection.

I suggested we forget it. It sounded like too much work.

So there you have it - our mega night out. Our grown up night out. And it was a blast.


ROCK ON!!

Please read this with elevator music playing in your head...

WE WENT TO THE POWDERFINGER CONCERT LAST NIGHT AND IT TOTALLY ROCKED!!

YYYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!

JET PLAYED TOO - AND IT WAS AWESOME!! 

BEST FATHER'S DAY PRESENT I'VE EVER BOUGHT - WOOHOO!!
*********************************************************************************

We interrupt this screaming lunatic to announce that a more appropriate post will be available tomorrow.


Thank you for your patience and will return you to your regular programming shortly.

The Legend of the Great Dummy Extraction (and applicable sunburn)

Friday, 10 September 2010

It has begun. We have travelled to the shopping centre to gather supplies for tonight's fearful task. The Guru almost bailed on me in the car on the way. Saying he wasn't expecting the task to be started tonight. I huffed and puffed about being abandoned and left to do it on my own. He backpeddled and said I misunderstood. Whatever.

With the items in hand we head home. After we treat ourselves to some food court dinner. No point in trying to cook and be a terrible mother all in one night. Besides, the tenision and fear in anticipation of what the evening might bring is making my hands shake so badly my burger is being showered all over my lap. Shaking hands and trying to cook something at home will only end in tears. Mine.

So we got home in one piece...bath time is done as normal and everyone is enjoying themselves. During this time the dummies are collected. Including the secret stash we discovered under her mattress...just out of eye shot but within sneaky toddler reach.

We discuss further how the baby faeries need the dummies and that they will leave something special to say thank you. We put the bag on the table and say bye bye to the dummies. No tears, begging or anything yet. It's going well.

Bed time. We read eighty two million books. The Toddler can sense our fear. She's milking it. We're not stopping it. We continue reading until finally she's dozed off to the sound of her Daddy's voice and my hand gently stroking her hair.

We pick her up and place her in bed. Kiss her goodnight, make sure she's comfortable and head out. There's nothing....just silence.

Oh my god. It that it!? Seriously... What was I afraid of!? That was so EASY!

And then the silence is shattered by the call over the monitor..."Mummeeeeeeee....sob.....Dummmmeeeeeee" followed by all sorts of howling and wailing and calling. I re-enter the room many, many times, pick her up, rock her, try to soothe her.

Total. Mothering. Fail.

After 2 hours and a final desperate call to my Mum asking for moral support and some words of wisdom for us, a plan is made. The Guru runs to the bag on the table and retireves a dummy. I think he could have outrun the flash. But screaming children will do that to you.

We re-enter the doomsday cave Toddler's bedroom, and insert dummy into awaiting toddler mouth. With some Mummy cuddles the Toddler is asleep in seconds.

But once she is asleep and has spat out the dummy, we take it back.

10pm - All is well in our household. And Panadol is making a fortune out of the 2 of us.

Upon the silence I can only assume our neighbours decide against calling child services. They never showed up despite my paranoia. Cheers.

Saturday, 11 September 2010

The day starts bright with no dummies in sight. the Toddler is THRILLED with all the goodies left by the Faeries as a thank you. The Faeries may have gone overboard on the presents and the faerie dust the previous night...but the big girl faerie didn't care, it was just the silly big boy faerie who cried about possible glittery dust going everywhere. And getting on everything. And making boy clothes appear very cabaret-ish. Pffffft - boys.

We anticipate the challenge of a day time nap without a dummy. But have last night's plan ready for action if hysteria comes a'calling.

Nap time arrives...well, sneaks up on us. Happy toddler has gone and Demon toddler has arrived. With dark circles under her eyes and a wild look about her.

This could be bad on so many levels.

The bedroom is entered and we sit in her armchair and read stories. No dummies have been mentioned. By any of us.

It comes time for the sleeping part of the day. A slight whimper erupts from the Toddler's lips and I see the Guru flinch to stop himself from diving for the dummy he has stashed in his pocket...just in case...

Whimpering dies down and Mummy cuddles are requested and given. Steady breathing and snuffling sounds indicate the Toddler has dozed off. She is gently placed in her cot and we depart. Dummy still in the Guru's pocket.

I stand outside her door....waiting for the eventual cries over the monitor.

Silence....and more silence....and it continues. I assume now our neighbours have taken child services off their speed dial list. Again, thanks for that.

Fast Forward to Bed Time...

There is much discussion with the Toddler about how the faeries came and took her dummies. And the Baby Faeries now have them and love them. This discussion is started and ended at the Toddlers insistence.

We head to bed...stories are read...tickles given and more Mummy cuddles are administered. But we go to our cot awake and aware. And we say goodnight to Mummy and Daddy and roll over and close our eyes.

The Guru and I depart....we listen....we hear small chattering over the monitor..."baby faeries have dummies...close eyes...(yawn)...nye nye faeries...faerie cuddles..." and from there we had contented sleeping sounds.

Sunday 12 September 2010

Day 2 of dummy freedom. We head to the water park for a play date with friends, both big and small.

It's wonderful, watery, cool, breezy, fun day and we close it off by another visit to the shopping centre (because I have more money to spend...the Guru begs to differ but...pfffft, boys).

The Toddler has an afternoon nap and we chill out for a bit. All 3 of us head outside after naps and a late lunch/snack are complete and we clean the pool and do some tree hacking and laundry.

The afternoon as also uncovered a small side effect of the morning's watery activities. For the Guru and I at least.

While the Toddler was decked out in her sun smart everything and almost no patch of her skin was visible to sunlight and the patches that were visible were smothered in enough sunscreen to repair the hole in the Ozone layer, the Guru and I just....well....weren't. We paddled and frolicked and did everything...but without the slightest hint of sunscreen or even a hat.

Welcome to the world of Bitchin' Sunburn. We hope you enjoy your next week slthered in Aloe Vera After Sun Gel and crap sleep due to no comfortable sleeping positions being available.

You would think we'd learn. That we would remember the 2 days of our honeymoon spent in our hotel suite slathered in this green gel of death. That in sunscreening the Toddler we'd just pop some on ourselves.

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

Idiots.

And I will continue to curse the hole in the Ozone layer as I spray my aerosol's around, drive my car, use disposable nappies and put recyclable materials in the rubbish bin...right next to the bigger, less smelly recycling bin.

Maybe one day I'll learn...when they make sun smart swim wear for adults that doesn't make me look like I'm wearing a giant condom. That's unflattering. And when I say unflattering, I mean BESIDES the fact that I look like I'm wearing a condom. Because a condom is fine...but when it makes you look like your arse is actually 2 bull dogs in a burlap sack fighting eachother for space, well, that's just a whole new level of unflattering.

But I digress...

After everything it turns out the dummy wasn't the Mount Everest of Weaning I had thought it would be. And without being smug, I am eternally grateful that we appear to have a very accepting daughter who was ready to say goodbye to her dummies. The result would have been very different if we'd approached this at a bad time or if she wasn't ready. And we know that.

But to the Universe...and the baby faeires who made all of this possible...I thank you. It could have been truly terrible, but we remain with our family and our sanity intact.

Now if only I could find a comfy patch of un-seared skin to sleep on...