Stuff to Do

Yesterday evening, as I was preparing dinner, I noticed that Charlie was far too quiet. So I called out to her (she didn't answer, surprise surprise). Then I noticed that the pantry door was almost-but-not-quite closed, and there was a mysterious white powdery substance on the floor outside the door. Oh goody goody gumdrops, she's got into the flour again. I open the door, and she is sitting in a pile of 1 kilo of flour, sifting it through her little fingers, making trails in it, and just having a fantastic time. When I asked her what she was doing, what I meant was why are you doing it. She didn't get the memo though, because she answered me thus: "I'm playing in the snow." I was speechless with laughter, and rather than punishing her, I took a photo and blogged about it. Because it somehow wasn't a big deal any more, and instead was hilarious! I love my kids, that's for certain. Sarah

not one of them have ever listed   "takes nappy off to poo on floor"   as a possible sign of readiness for toilet training.   Yuck.   Sarah    

*cue sounds of two-year old falling over*   Charlie: "*crying* Owwww!" Me: "What happened? Show me your owie, darling." Charlie: "Doctor...McDonald's"   Somehow, she got the idea that going to the doctor earns her a trip to McDonald's...

Okay, so it's like this:   Today, my two-year old said three phrases that I know without a doubt she's heard come out of my mouth. Nothing obscene, just impolite and one not nice. Phrases that I dearly wish I'd never let slip, phrases that I'd like her to unlearn, and ASAP. So how do you go about un-teaching them things?? I know the best way is to not let her hear it in the first place, but obviously, we've missed the boat on that opportunity. So now that she's heard it, and (intelligently used it in the correct context even) used it, how do I get her to not use it anymore??? How do I correct her when she says them without making a huge fuss about it? *hangs head sheepishly* I know I can't be alone in this, so what are your experiences?   Cheers, Sarah

to finding out whether Charlie's got a nut allergy. I opted to do the RAST testing, as it's one blood draw (unless your kids veins are difficult to find), and they can store it for up to a year, using that sample to test for up to 16 different allergens. As a guilt offering, I took Charlie to McDonald's for lunch. And now we're home, and I'm in that post-McDonald's carbohydrate valley, where you just want to sleeeeeeeeeep. Which I will now go do, in a spectacular, drowning in my own drool, someone could break into my house and I wouldn't know it, shoes off and under the covers kind of fashion. Nighty night, y'all.   Cheers, Sarah

Charlie and I are identical. Okay, I'm a little bit taller, but what I was referring to was our personalities. Lachlan's said all along that she's a little mini-me, but I always thought he meant that she looked like me. Which she does, but I digress. So about the personality thing - I've discovered recently that this is why we butt heads so often. We're both emotional, irrational, and completely stubborn (thanks for that one, Dad!). So when she starts to chuck a barney, as it is sometimes said here, I'm trying to talk her out of it, or worse, it makes me chuck a barney right back. And there we sit, two irrational beings, horns locked, each trying to convince the other to see things our way. You would think, that what with me being the adult and all, that I would graciously bow out, or just not engage in that type of discussion with someone who only says a few complete sentences, but somehow, I get sucked in - every time! Until I realised that my be

I haven't been to the doctor yet, but I'm positive Charlie has a tree nut allergy or at the least a cashew allergy, and a fairly serious one.   Ages ago, we went to visit Lachlan's parents, and Charlie tried a tiny bit of dip on crackers. She went all itchy, and got welts on her skin and (of all places) her eyeballs, and vomited. My immediate thought was, "nut allergy" as the dip contains cashews. But it also had chilli, and since she's had no problems with peanut butter, I talked myself out of the nut allergy theory. Until last night.   I crushed up some cashews to put in our dinner, and stupidly gave it to her. She was mucking around, and wouldn't eat. She did eat some, but not very much. After dinner, she was coughing a lot, and wouldn't drink anything. She wouldn't let me brush her teeth, and she was acting really strangely. She went to bed, but wouldn't go to sleep. So I let her get up and sit with us. About an hour after e

Hey Dad!   Hey honey!   I miss you Dad. I wish you could be here watching the girls grow up.   I know, honey.   You know Dad, you really should have taken better care of yourself. I'm more than a little hacked off at you about that.   I'm sorry. You're right, I know you're right. But I didn't know this would happen.   Yeah, but you knew you'd die someday, right? You could have made someday much later, like after Charlie and Pippa get married. You could have been around so much longer!   You don't know that, honey. God calls us all when the time is right.   Yeah, but if you'd made better choices, maybe, I don't know... (pause) I hate it when you're right. It takes all the fun out of arguing with you. You still should have taken better care of yourself though.   (laughing) Yes, I know.   I love you Daddy.   I love you too, sweetheart.    

It's been a year since my dad died. I found myself missing him so much today. I find myself angry that he didn't take better care of himself when he was alive. I find myself feeling so aimless, and wishing desperately that I could call him up and ask for direction. He was such a strong influence in my life, and I have a lifetime of special memories. Sometimes it helps to remember him, and sometimes it makes me worse. I don't want to forget him, but remembering him, it only makes me feel bitter and angry. I know that anger is supposed to be one of the stages of grief, but I always thought it was just anger that someone was gone. Not anger directed at that person. This is hard for me, because I don't think I've ever been angry with my dad. He's always been on a bit of a pedestal, despite his flaws, because he was willing to own up to being less than perfect. I feel guilty for being angry with someone who isn't here to defend himself. This is out of

I'm so sorry about this, really I am. You have to die. It's nothing personal, really. It's just that my bath towel? Is NOT YOUR HOUSE. You're supposed to live in drains, in pipes, whatever. It's kind of a policy I have, and I can't afford to make exceptions. Once that happens, then 20 of your friends want to come in and use my shower as a waterslide. So you have to die now. Go in peace, my dirty little friend.   *Flush*    

#1. You can not, no matter how hard you try, use Jedi mind tricks to make your bathroom scale go down.   #2. Irrationality is totally contagious.   Think about it...   Cheers, Sarah  

I realised something over the last couple of days.   I may not know exactly who I am, or what it means to be me. That's okay. What I do know is that I am not everyone else. I am unique, special, and custom-made for the job I've been put on this earth to do. I am one-of-a-kind. There never has been, nor will there ever be, anyone in the world who is like me. All this is to say that I can now say with confidence that I don't have to do things like other people because of some notion that they won't like me if I don't 'copy' them. I don't expect anyone in the world to 'copy' me, or adopt my methods, such as they may be. I totally respect and admire people, regardless of whether or not we do things the same. I don't think that I'm better or worse than anyone else. Just different. I only have one standard to follow, and that's the one God has set for me. It's got nothing to do with the way other people do things. If I don