Bits and pieces

So this morning I woke up to my mum filibustering around.
Something about needing help.
Jasper.
Paint.
Everywhere.
AGAIN.
Because I AM A SLOW LEARNER AN IDIOT.
Just all nod your heads sagely because YOU KNOW I AM.
Because after this:
I didn’t put the paints back in the laundry cupboard under childlock and key.
I cleaned them all up and PUT THEM BACK IN THE SAME PLAIN VIEW LOCATION.
Stop jostling.
You can all take turns thwacking me across the back of the head.
Calm down.

So this morning.
It was yellow paint with…
Wait for it…

SUNSCREEN.

Because you know, you want to LOCK.THE.COLOUR.IN.

There’s no photos today because my brain was too busy bleeding out my ears to think about where the camera was.

But WAIT!
Today’s wake-up came with a free set of steak knives!
For as I was taking towels soaked in yellow paint to the laundry AND all the covers off the lounge as the of the SIXTEEN cushions that make our lounge NINE of them had a soup of paint and sunscreen over them and really, once you’re washing that many of the cushions you can’t not wash the others for just how much they’d highlight their filth if left, I noticed the freezer door was open.
I could see condensation on the bottom of the fridge door above it, indicating it had been open for QUITE SOME TIME.
And lo it came to pass
That a just another large piece of my soul
DIED
DIED
DIED

For you see,
Chef had a bowl of his delicious second stomach inducing cookies and cream ice cream last night
At around 9pm
And had put the container back in the freezer
So that the door didn’t shut
So the freezer was open, by my calculations for
TEN
EFFING
HOURS

People wondering why I have a cold dead heart?
Just read this.
Over and over and over.

So there were:
two boxes of iceblocks reduced to water
an ice-cube tray of baby food reduced to warm mush
1kg of marinated honey soy chicken wings
two snaplock bags of bolognaise sauce
one leftover container of chicken cacciatore
bag of cubed pancetta
Stopping now for wastage makes my neck itch beyond tolerability.

So the day has started and my neck is itchy and my brain is bleeding out my eyes and it is only 6.48am.

After cleaning up the lounge room and the freezer I take a few moments to regroup and check the blog I check first every single day. And bless Blackbird, she has posted some Lewis Black in which he suggests New Zealanders hop off their island and push it closer to the rest of the world. Hehehe. And well, Lewis Black I love for all sorts of reasons.

So suddenly I could almost laugh at it all.
Then Jasper found a Barbie headband I’d bought for my niece for Christmas but forgot to give her and has been wearing it all morning.
And so the day goes on.

*****

So Saturday night featured dinner and a show when I physically restrained Jasper and attempted to get some food into his mouth all while he was screaming a right fit.
Yep.
One of those pinnacles of parenting moments which make you shudder.
It was probably the eye of the storm which was my new stand with him that if he hasn’t eaten dinner there is no bottle.
And certainly no ‘lelly’ (jelly).

It was hideous.

When it died down you could see all of us scarred by it.
Until about half an hour later he was back to his normal chatty self singing Thomas the Effing Engine songs while building a track to run the longest line of engines along.
And slowly we all started breathing again.

And so it goes.

Tonight I cooked linguine and served it in a sauce of leftover slow-roasted lamb, roasted pumpkin and finely julienned zucchini.
It was delicious and he ate two bowls of it.
And a plate of ‘lelly’.
Which made him silly.
And then there was a bot bot.

SO I resign myself to the reality of a toddler palate.
The one who will mysteriously eat mounds of roast chicken and gravy one week and then refuse all forms of meat for the next month.
The one who will happily eat vegemite on toast for breakfast and lunch, drink some water here and there and maybe snack on a cruskit and not let one jot of dinner even touch his lips let alone be ingested.
For days on end.
But will then eat yoghurt by the bowlful.
And one day request a banana.

I try not to fret about these things.
That he eats way too many ice-blocks (only water based mind you – he will turn down milk-based varieties), that there are too many bottles (although I know this not to be the case as there is generally only two) and OMG what am I to do…
And then I find him – as I do Oscar – tucking into the container of fish oil tablets, snacking on them like lollies.
And I am just at a complete loss.

I know I will keep offering him dinner as everyone else gets each night.
And that there will be rice or pasta on offer a few nights a week to ensure at least some form of sustenance is getting into his system.

But you know?
Parenting a two-year-old is really really hard.
(and all you parents of teenagers sitting there chuckling in the smug knowledge of just how much harder it gets just need to keep it to yourselves because I KNOW.)

*****
Oscar and Felix have just undergone massive growth spurts.
Felix had shorts that fitted last weekend but are now too small.
I’m not kidding.
It’s been that dramatic.
We’ve had some cooler nights of late which have caused me to go in and pull their blankets up over them.
While I’m still coming to grips with the fact Oscar will be 10 TEN next month, the size of these boys in their beds just takes my breath away.
It’s like a glimpse of the men they will become.
*****
My BF K rang me yesterday and we talked for almost an hour as various levels of child-induced mayhem carried on around both of us.
Delicious.
She suggested I bring the boys to Orange this coming long weekend to have a chat with some locals (Chef and I have been entertaining the idea of a move to the country and Orange is on the short list) and to hang with the J clan as they celebrate K’s sister’s 4oth birthday.
So I am.
Me and the four fabulous boys.
And no paints whatsoever.
*****