tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35575100372073028912024-02-08T06:03:05.367+11:00Because Mum Said...When life gets hard - laugh...Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-40860452416168088782012-03-31T14:50:00.000+11:002012-03-31T14:50:01.058+11:00Blog Post Email Formatting<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It appears that when some people received their first email from my <i>Finding My Star</i> blog, the formatting has gone all skewiff (words pushed together). If you have had the same problem on <i>Finding My Star,</i> or or on this blog, please let me know and also what device (iPhone, PC, Mac, etc) you're reading the email on, so I can follow up with Goggle Blogger.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thank you</span><br />
<br />Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-14604458559190920822012-03-23T10:42:00.000+11:002012-03-23T10:42:36.168+11:00Man Boobs and We're Moving!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">How do men know when their man boobs have become too big?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When their 2 ½ year old daughter holds her mummy’s bra up
against Daddy’s bare chest and says, ‘Boobies!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When does 5-3=5?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When Boywonder holds up five fingers on one hand and three
fingers on the other and says, ‘Five take away three,’ before removing the hand
with three fingers and announcing the answer is five. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is the last post on this blog. All future posts will be
on <a href="http://finding-my-star.blogspot.com.au/">http://finding-my-star.blogspot.com.au/</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finding My Star reveals the journey that my family embarked
on when I first fell ill two years ago. From the frustration of misdiagnoses to
acceptance and adjustment, it includes the challenges we were forced to face,
the changes we made, recipes and the effect it had on my views in life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It will still incorporate the humorous side of our lives –
thankfully, that hasn’t changed!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Everyone receiving Because Mum Said… email posts through my
Google group will receive an email about subscribing to Finding My Star. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you wish to continue receiving blog posts, please click
the link in the email to activate the subscription. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you no longer wish to receive blog posts, simply delete
the email. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you don’t receive the email in the next couple of days,
check your junk mail. If it isn’t there, email me and I’ll send you a new link
and instructions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-71019706782356788742012-03-05T14:44:00.000+11:002012-03-05T14:44:18.546+11:00Borrowing What You Already Own?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As much as kids enjoy experiencing and learning new things
when they start going to school, they also get a huge amount of pleasure and
comfort from familiarity. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tomboy loves visiting the school library each week. Her
favourite part of the visit is borrowing a new book to bring home for Mr T to
read to her and her siblings at bedtime.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She has been especially excited about her book choices the
last two weeks. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I opened her library bag to see what story she’d
brought home, I was a little confused. I lifted <i>Rhino Neil</i> by Mini Goss out of
the bag and said, ‘We already own this book.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I thought that maybe Tomboy had forgotten.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘Yes! That’s why I got it,’ replied Tomboy quite proudly. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She was just as proud when she brought home <i>Who Sank the
Boat</i> by Pamela Allen – another book that we already own.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Boywonder did the same thing last year when he started
school. It might seem a little silly to borrow a book that one already owns,
but that little bit of familiarity between school and home seems to boost their
confidence. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, Mr T was a little disappointed when Tomboy
didn’t bring home a new story to read at bedtime. Maybe I should send him to
the local library to choose a couple of picture books for himself. </span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-61726036331523194942012-02-28T11:16:00.000+11:002012-03-05T14:31:48.458+11:00Chilli Anyone…Again!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">After Boywonder and Tomboy’s run-in with chilli, I
discovered how much pain one tiny speck of chilli juice can cause. I lost a lot
of chillies to some fiendish grub, so a friend, whose chilli bush thrived this
summer, offered me quite a few of their chillies. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There were far too many chillies to use before they went
off, so I decided to slice them up and freeze them ready for future cooking. I
was halfway through the slicing when a tiny speck of chilli juice flicked straight
into my eye.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My first reaction was to close my eyes and touch them with
my hands. Luckily, I stopped myself before I thrust my chilli-covered hands
onto my eyes. I could feel the burning sensation in my eye immediately. What
was worse, that tiny speck of chilli juice was mixing with the fluid in my eyes
– the heat was spreading across my eyeball like wildfire. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Helpless without the use of my chilli-covered hands, I
called Mr T to help rinse my eyes. The more my eyes watered from the burning,
the more the burning spread. Mr T grabbed a face washer from the drawer and wet
it with water, but that did no good. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then Mr T remembered milk and we splashed that onto the face
washer. It was useless trying to get the milk into my eye as I couldn’t open it
long enough due to the pain, and if I did get it open, I couldn't stop the
reflex to close it when the milk got near it, so I held the milk-soaked face washer
to my eye. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Each time I took the face washer away to see if the burning
was gone, it returned even stronger and had continued to spread. My eye felt like it was on fire beneath my eyelid and on the skin all around my eye.
It had even spread to my nose as it watered furiously. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Half and hour later I eased the face washer off my eye and
was relieved to find the fire was out. I returned to slicing up the chillies,
but decided to wear my glasses while I did it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And just in case I hadn’t learnt my lesson, an hour after
I’d finished cutting up the chillies, my hands started to feel like they were
on fire. The more I tried to get rid of it, the worse they felt. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A quick Google search revealed salt, alcohol and mayonnaise as
possible ways to relieve it. They all worked while I was doing it, but as soon as
I washed my hands off, they felt even hotter. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the end I took some painkillers and went to bed. The heat
was gone by the morning, but two days later, as soon as I used my hands a lot,
the burning sensation returned to my fingertips. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So now I wear glasses and gloves when cutting up chillies. </span></div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-38910712957198994462012-02-24T16:05:00.000+11:002012-02-24T16:05:49.732+11:00The Stinky Boy<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tomboy enjoyed her first couple of days of school, but had a
major complaint at the end of the second day.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I asked her how the day went and she declared, ‘There is a
very stinky boy in my class!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘Was he farting a lot?’ I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘No.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘Had he pooed his pants?’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘Noooo, he was just really stinky,’ she replied with obvious
frustration at my inability to understand the ‘stink’.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘Okay,’ I said. To avoid aggravating her further, I changed
the subject to her upcoming birthday party and who we should invite.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tomboy’s first request was, ‘Can you not invite the stinky
boy?’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We’d delayed her birthday party so we could also use it as a
way for Tomboy to bond with her new school friends. The boys outnumber the
girls two to one, and I didn’t want her party being too big or dominated by a
bunch of boisterous boys. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I explained that I was thinking of having a small party with
only the girls from her class. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘No, I want boys there too. Just don’t invite the stinky
boy. He has too much stinkiness!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We didn’t invite the stinky boy or any of the other boys. As
originally planned, we invited the other five girls in Tomboy’s class and have
booked a fairy to come and entertain the girls with games and face painting
tomorrow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She may still end up with a stinky boy at her party if her
brother, Boywonder, and his butt are in fine form.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-45265910953834837472012-02-10T10:50:00.000+11:002012-02-10T11:42:39.857+11:00Leaking<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Recent episodes of <i>Home and Away</i> were very sad for Junior Accountant and me when a main character we really liked died. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">After watching the funeral, Junior Accountant said, ‘I did
well, I only had one tear escape.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Still sobbing, I turned to her and said, ‘Wait until you get older, it’s harder to keep them in.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">To which she replied, ‘What, like your wee?’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had a few more tears after that, but at least they were from laughing so hard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And no, I didn’t wet myself from laughing too hard!</span></div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-37659210951497490812012-02-03T17:10:00.000+11:002012-02-03T17:10:58.662+11:00Chilli Anyone?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The three youngest children enjoy helping me with our little
veggie garden, but they also get bored quickly. Five minutes after accompanying
me outside to stake my tomatoes and find a suitable pot for my new chilli bush,
they disappeared back inside the house. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A short while later Boywonder came to the back door and told
me his nose was burning. I didn’t doubt it, as his nose was so red he looked
like Rudolph. He said that Tomboy’s top lip was also burning. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I made it very clear to him that they weren’t in trouble and
that it was very important that he tell me what they’d put on their faces. The
possible scenarios raced through my head. Had someone left the exit mould out
after cleaning the bathroom and they’d sprayed it in their faces? Had they used
something they’d mistakenly thought was sunscreen? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Boywonder was adamant that they hadn’t put anything on their
faces. ‘All we did was smell the chilli,’ he explained. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘You didn’t bite one did you?’ I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘No, you told us not to taste them because they were hot, so
we only smelled that one,’ he said pointing at half a chilli on the ground near
the chilli bush. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Just as they’d been told, they didn’t pull anything off of
the bush (the offending chilli had fallen off when I was repotting the plant)
and they didn’t taste the chilli. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And now they also know not to touch their faces with a
chilli when smelling it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">They spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the
house holding wet facewashers to their nose and top lip and I was pleased to
know that we’d bought a chilli bush with some heat in it!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimXZsHg7QVqZ29k_6aRuDmrkLmOESfs7zmswQJTnJ1HNNYDJk7YCAzIKCg6nyNWSNNxCRd9cwN7LU3U4TvIqY6gRx098cq3GStqCYVK5_shQbOZPPLme_Ddg-uKAdAfWBYbp-nTLLJennI/s1600/2012-01-18+14.30.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimXZsHg7QVqZ29k_6aRuDmrkLmOESfs7zmswQJTnJ1HNNYDJk7YCAzIKCg6nyNWSNNxCRd9cwN7LU3U4TvIqY6gRx098cq3GStqCYVK5_shQbOZPPLme_Ddg-uKAdAfWBYbp-nTLLJennI/s320/2012-01-18+14.30.23.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-10426858999020770062012-01-08T16:29:00.000+11:002012-01-08T16:29:30.617+11:00A Good Mum<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Children often come out with random statements that make us laugh. A little less often is a random statement that melts your heart, even more so when spoken by a two-year-old child soon after I’d had a battle of wills with her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As is the usual at the moment, Miss Flora told me which cereal she’d like for breakfast, I made it, she then refused to eat it, and I told her she’s getting nothing more to eat until after she’s eaten her breakfast. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Realising she wasn’t going to win this battle Miss Flora proceeded to eat her (now soggy) breakfast. So she didn’t have loneliness as an excuse to leave her breakfast, I hung about in the laundry (next to the dining room) and loaded the washing machine. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Miss Flora asked me what I was doing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘Getting the next load of washing ready,’ I replied. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘You’re a good mum,’ said Miss Flora. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Wow! I was expecting another question or the exasperating ‘why’. After overcoming the initial shock, I felt really appreciated. I stopped what I was doing and gave her a cuddle. ‘Thank you’, I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Miss Flora then pointed at the bookcase. ‘Are they your books?’ she asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘Yes,’ I replied.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘Have you read them all?’ she asked. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘No,’ I replied, realising that my exalted moment was over and Miss Flora had moved on to the next topic of conversation. It seems precocious two-year-olds are too busy to allow tender moments to slow the momentum of their thoughts. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-56312151368194161982011-12-28T09:49:00.000+11:002011-12-28T09:49:18.701+11:00Only A Little Bit Fat!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now that summer is here, Junior Accountant has decided to lose some excess weight. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As Junior Accountant set up the Wii Active, Boywonder, Tomboy and Miss Flora crowded around her asking questions about what sort of game she was going to play.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Junior Accountant – ‘It’s an exercise program to help make me thinner.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tomboy – ‘But you’re only a little bit fat.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Junior Accountant – ‘Gee, thanks for that.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tomboy – ‘What? I’m only commentating.’ </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tomboy’s commentary was soon forgotten as the three little ones busied themselves with some humorous attempts at imitating Junior Accountant’s exercises.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fifteen minutes later Tomboy tilted her head to the side, looked Junior Accountant up and down, and declared, ‘I don’t think it’s working, you’re still not thin!’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-52900283920531882662011-12-21T09:52:00.000+11:002011-12-21T09:52:24.542+11:00When I Grow Up<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On our way to school earlier this week, the kids started discussing what they wanted to be when they grew up. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Boywonder said that since he was so good at pulling his seatbelt out and across him to do it up that he would be good at making car seats and belts for cars. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tomboy said that she was good at drawing so she would be an artist when she grew up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I asked who was going to be a doctor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">With their professions already chosen, Tomboy and Boywonder nominated Miss Flora, to which Miss Flora responded with, ‘Nooo, I’m going to be a dog!’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It brought back memories of when The Apprentice was little and declared she was going to be a tree when she grew up. The interesting thing is that she’s studying conservation land management and horticulture…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-32472929820788634252011-10-10T14:03:00.000+11:002011-10-10T14:03:10.824+11:00Dumb and Dumber on Holiday<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Mr T and I had a couple of “moments” during our last weekend in Traralgon. We stayed in a lovely spacious apartment that included a deep spa bath, a remote-controlled heating and cooling system in the lounge area, and a walk-in wardrobe in the main bedroom. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">After sussing out each room and cupboard in the apartment we unpacked and Mr T hung his shirts so they didn’t get creased. Unfortunately, the more Mr T tried to keep his shirts from creasing, the more his forehead creased.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I found him having a great deal of trouble as he attempted to hang his shirts' coat hangers on the door handle of the walk-in wardrobe. The door handle was too close to the doorframe, thus preventing him from getting the hangers to sit over the handle properly. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">‘What are you doing?’ I asked, rather confused as to why he was persisting with the door handle when he had a whole wardrobe on the other side of the door.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">As he opened the door to the wardrobe in an attempt to hang the shirts and then close the door, he remembered what was on the other side of the door. ‘I could just hang them in there, couldn’t I,’ he said rather sheepishly.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">It wasn’t long until Mr T decided to check out the spa bath. After a while I too went in the direction of the kids’ bedroom and the bathroom that contained the spa bath, only to be met by a loud rumbling sound.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">‘What is that horrid noise?’ I asked. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">‘It’s the spa bath, don’t worry, it’ll turn itself off soon,’ replied Mr T, thinking that it worked on a timer. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">After ten minutes the sound didn’t stop and I went into the bathroom to where the “empty” spa bath sat, still desperately trying to circulate air and water through an empty bath tub. I became a little worried when I noticed a slight burning smell. I looked at the button Mr T had pushed to turn it on and went back to where he was in the bedroom and asked if he had tried to turn it off by pushing the button again. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">‘No,’ said Mr T slowly as he thought about the merits of my suggestion, so I returned to the bathroom and pushed the button. The spa bath stopped. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Both are understandable gaffs when one is unfamiliar with the abode or its amenities, but there is no excuse for the dumb moment we shared on the first night. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">We decided to turn the heating on when it became quite chilly during the evening. The instructions above the remote control on the wall said, ‘Pick up remote, turn it on, set temperature. There will be a delay before the system starts’. <span> </span>It sounds pretty simple doesn’t it, and even more so when it was the standard wall-mounted system, like the one in this picture, which you can hear and feel when it’s on and working. Not for us!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">We pushed the on button and the remote beeped. We set the temp and the remote beeped each time we went up or down a degree. We sat back down in front of the television and waited for the heating system on the farthest wall to start warming the place. After twenty minutes, I increased the temperature on the remote to 29C (84F) because the room temperature hadn’t changed at all. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">After discussing how useless the heating system was, we concluded it must be because it was trying to heat a very large room. After another fifteen minutes, by which time I was wearing my large overcoat over my pyjamas and had a blanket wrapped around my legs and feet, I went to the remote and picked it up and increased the temperature by another five degrees. I moved closer to the heating system and noted how quiet it was – too quiet!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">With the remote still in my hand I pushed the power button on the remote again – maybe turning it off and on again would help – and instead of the remote control beeping, this time the heating system beeped as well – and a light came on! It was at that point that we realised the heating system hadn’t been on at all because we hadn’t picked the remote up and pointed it in the direction of the heating system. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">We took comfort in the fact that we were as dumb as each other when it came to figuring out the heating – or lack of it. </span></span></div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-1807909940030211602011-09-02T10:11:00.005+10:002011-09-02T16:27:02.893+10:00Why Do I Have White Hair?<div style="color: #073763;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I was sitting on the steps, watching Boywonder at Auskick while Tomboy stood on the step behind me, playing with my hair. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">It was very relaxing until Tomboy said, ‘Why have you got white in your hair?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I ignored her question, hoping she’d find something else back there – nits, fleas, ticks… </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">But it wasn’t to be.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Slightly louder this time: ‘Mummy, why is there white hair on your head?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I was still hoping something – anything – would distract her when she asked with a shout, ‘Mummy, why do you have white hair?!’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Tomboy’s loud vocalisation about my grey roots in desperate need of some hair dye, not only confirmed I was going grey (not to mention deaf), but brought it to the attention of everyone within a ten-metre radius. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">My reply: ‘Because I have too many kids!’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">A couple of weeks later while seated at the computer waiting for the hair dye on my head to do its job, Tomboy asked me why I was dying my hair. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">‘To get rid of the white hair,’ I replied.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">‘Oh, you didn’t tell me you had white hair,’ she said before trotting off to play. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">At least I’m not suffering memory problems!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-19034152621144652102011-08-19T16:06:00.000+10:002011-08-19T16:06:50.755+10:00Tomboy Takes Over the World!<div style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">While Mr T and Boywonder have been home sick with the flu this week, Tomboy and Miss Flora have been busy trying to take over the world.</span></span><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">When Mr T came downstairs after trying to have a nap, Tomboy asked, ‘Did you have a good sleep, Daddy?’</span></span><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Mr T said, ‘I was until I heard a lot of banging downstairs.’</span></span><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">‘Ah, yes,’ replied Tomboy, ‘we were trying to take over the world.’</span></span><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">‘Well you woke me.’</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">‘Sorry about that,’ said Tomboy before running off to continue her appropriation of the world from the safety of our lounge room.</span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;"> </span></span><br />
Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-48146258780148827492011-08-02T19:07:00.001+10:002011-08-02T19:07:38.886+10:00The Apprentice Quotes…<div style="color: #073763;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">The Apprentice amuses us regularly with her unusual views and interesting comments.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">When planning their trip to Port Douglas, The Apprentice’s Boyfriend (TAB) suggested that they do some snorkelling. The Apprentice responded with, ‘I don’t know, what if I get the bends?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">****</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">While play fighting with Tomboy one evening, The Apprentice exclaimed, ‘You’re so strong; every muscle is muscle!’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">As opposed to…? </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">****</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">We were all sad to hear that one of TAB’s racehorses fell ill, resulting in it going blind, but The Apprentice was optimistic when she asked, ‘Don’t they have like a Paralympics for horses?’</span></span></div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-25227268802670071162011-07-11T19:44:00.000+10:002011-07-11T19:44:15.650+10:00Uni Student has a New Name<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">It’s official! Uni Student has passed the last couple of subjects in her Bachelor of Commerce and has secured a full-time position as a Junior Accountant. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So it’s only natural that she moves up in status on the blog. From this day forward she will be known as Junior Accountant and Uni Student’s Boyfriend (USB) is now Junior Accountant’s Boyfriend (JAB). </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">One would think that having an accountant in the family meant I no longer had to do everyone’s tax returns, but the first thing Junior Accountant gave me when she came home from work last week was her group certificate from the accounting firm she works for, so I can do her tax return!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-1959556241093063242011-07-01T18:12:00.001+10:002011-07-06T13:57:35.994+10:00Kneepits and Flattered Sausages!<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Boywonder has now completed six months of his first year in school. As he learnt new and exciting things at school each day, his attempts to apply his newly acquired knowledge to his everyday life often had humorous results.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Anatomy –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">When encouraging the kids to wash themselves in the bath one night, I reminded Boywonder to wash under his armpits. A short while later he started to wash his legs and as he washed behind his knees, he said to me, ‘Don’t forget my kneepits!’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Geography – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">We were on our way back to Melbourne (capital of Victoria in Australia) after spending a weekend in Traralgon (rural Victoria), when Boywonder woke from a short nap and asked, ‘Are we back in Australia yet?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Food – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Boywonder must think he’s not the only one that enjoys a battered sausage from the local fish and chip shop. When we asked what he’d like to order for dinner, he replied, ‘A flattered sausage.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, the last week of this exciting first six months wasn’t as amusing. As the novelty wore off, the work became harder and Boywonder realised school is not always about fun and games with his mates. He became extremely distressed when we arrived at school each day. Needing two teachers to prise my son’s hands from my arm was as distressing for me as it was for him. I was glad I had my sunnies on, so he couldn’t see my tears.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">After much discussion, we discovered that he loved socialising with his many friends and wasn’t subjected to bullying. He loved playing with the noisy instruments in music, but didn’t like the dance that he couldn’t master. He loved picking a library book to bring home, but didn’t like creating the picture that one of his classmates always so kindly pointed out to him was wrong. He loved group reading with the other three kids that were on the same reading level as him, but hated the large group activity that he had trouble comprehending.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">We soon realised that his confidence needed a boost. We also discovered that Boywonder believed that once you got something wrong, that was it, end of the line – a big, fat FAIL. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">A week after his distress began, we managed to boost his confidence and help him understand that mistakes and practice are a major part of learning for everyone – young and old. You can imagine my dismay when I collected him from school this afternoon and asked him if he was excited about it being school holidays and he replied with, ‘Ohhh, I want to go to school tomorrow!’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-48131413180222046462011-06-03T17:23:00.000+10:002011-06-03T17:23:55.182+10:00The Love Bug<style>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A resurgence of the tummy bug in our home has reminded us that words are not the only way to say ‘I love you’. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This time The Apprentice was one of the hardest hit by the bug, experiencing projectile expulsion of noxious matter from both ends. Her insides were so twisted in pain and her woeful moaning so loud during the night that Mr T wasn’t sure if she was in pain or the throws of passion. Unfortunately for TAB (The Apprentice’s Boyfriend), he was staying at our place, so he became The Apprentice’s nurse for the night. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">While Mr T and I spent the night changing Tomboy’s bed sheets and holding her hair back while she vomited, TAB did the same for The Apprentice. When The Apprentice was stuck on the toilet and a bucket didn’t arrive in time, TAB didn’t hesitate to mop up the resultant mess. He helped her to the shower, cleaned her up and then sought new sheets for their bed. Not once did I hear him complain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He was even chivalrous about The Apprentice’s mishaps. When I saw him changing the bed sheets, I said, ‘Oh no, did she get the bed too?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">TAB said nothing. He just gave me a sad, but knowing look. Then The Apprentice said, ‘It just shot out my bum before I knew it was even coming.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">‘You shit the bed?!’ I exclaimed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">TAB continued to change the sheets, and then helped The Apprentice back into bed before climbing in next to her. If getting back into bed with someone after they’ve shit in it doesn’t say ‘I love you’, I don’t know what does.</span></div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-33583544952692389572011-05-31T11:44:00.001+10:002011-06-02T16:33:43.494+10:00Noodles<style>
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</style> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Edited 2 June 2011: Cooking instructions have been added for those who didn’t get the joke…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">So, we’ve established that Mr T knows more about the vacuum than I do, but the kitchen is still my domain. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">After placing two packets of Maggi 2 Minute Noodles into a saucepan, Mr T asked me, ‘If I put two packets in, do I boil it for two or four minutes?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Are you serious?’ I asked.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">He didn’t smile or laugh; he patiently (and very seriously) waited for my answer. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">When I started laughing instead of answering, he sheepishly said, ‘It’s two minutes isn’t it?’ </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">And for those who have never cooked Maggi 2 Minute Noodles or have never cooked more than one packet at a time – whether you’re cooking 1, 2 or even 10 packets of noodles, the most common way of cooking them is to place the noodles in a saucepan, cover them with water and then bring it to the boil. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Regardless of how many packets of noodles are in the saucepan, <b>after</b> bringing it to the boil, you only boil it for a further <b>2</b> minutes.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Sorry if this ruins the punch line, but I’ve found myself explaining the cooking method for noodles to several people. Thank Christ Mr T wasn't attempting a soufflé…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-10326458517481251122011-05-30T19:03:00.000+10:002011-05-30T19:03:49.384+10:00I Don't Do Housework<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">I am often asked how I cope with all that I do. Working and studying part-time from home and taking care of a house, husband and five children, of which three are aged five and under, is time-consuming and often exhausting. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">My usual answer is, ‘I don’t do the housework.’ </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Many don’t believe me, so my reply is usually met with laughter. Sure, I do the washing, the cooking and the hundred other daily tasks that we don’t think about as we take care of a family, usually all completed with a clingy two-year-old constantly attached to me. This is part of the reason I’m unable to get stuck into the joyous chore of cleaning the toilets and bathrooms. Miss Flora’s penchant for sniffing and tasting things doesn’t stop just because the label says it’s poisonous. It doesn’t matter where you spray it, she’ll try to lick it!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">But the main reason that I escape so many housework hours is that I am blessed with a wonderful husband, who understands how important my writing is to me, realises that a fifteen-minute chore can take two hours to complete when I have a toddler attached to me and…he loves doing the vacuuming!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">How much more vacuuming he does than I do was highlighted when we passed the shop where we usually buy our vacuum bags. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Oh no! Our vacuum bag shop’s gone. Where will we get vacuum bags now?’ I asked.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Lucky we bought a bagless vacuum in the Boxing Day sales!’ replied Mr T. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Before I could reply, Mr T asked, ‘Shouldn’t I – the husband – be the one that knows nothing about the vacuum?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-82405486476740756882011-05-25T12:48:00.000+10:002011-05-25T12:48:23.841+10:00Internal Organs<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Once again we are under attack as another tummy bug barges into our home. (More on that in a later post.) It doesn’t seem to matter how many dirty nappies the children watch me change or how much vomit they ogle when one of their siblings heaves into a bucket, they have an obscene fascination for the waste products that leave our bodies.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Sometimes this fascination extends to our internal organs as well. While waiting to pay the bill after having a renal ultrasound one morning, Boywonder asked me why we were at a different doctor to where we usually go. I explained that the doctor needed to look at my kidneys and bladder. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Did he take them out and have a look? Can I look too?’ asked Boywonder as he grabbed my shirt, ready to lift it and look for himself. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">After I explained that the doctor uses a special machine to see my kidneys and bladder, and it certainly doesn’t involve taking them out, Boywonder then asked,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘What’s a bladder? Can I look at your bladder?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">I enlightened my budding anatomist by placing a little pressure on his bladder and asking him if it made him want to wee. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Yes,’ he said.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘That’s your bladder!’ </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">He was finally happy with these explanations. That was until I had to pick up another four-litre bottle so I could perform the 24-hour urine test again. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">After we arrived home, Boywonder picked the bottle up and asked, ‘Do you have to wee in the bottle again, Mummy?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Yes.’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Can I wee in it too?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘NO!’ I replied as I took the bottle from him. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘But I have a bladder too!’ was Boywonder’s argument. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Everyone has a bladder, but they are not all going to be contributing to my bottle!’ I replied, hugging the bottle to my chest. I then hurried to the toilet with my bottle before Boywonder gave me the lecture on sharing that he’d heard so often from me. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-83377706103843529152011-05-20T14:53:00.001+10:002011-05-22T09:04:48.417+10:00Whose Shoes?<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Getting </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">anything done with </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">three children, five years old and </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">under</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"> can be a challenge, so we usually do things like </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">bath time or getting out the door punctually as </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">a production line. Unfortunately, </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">even</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"> the </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">most efficient production lines </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">have </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">their glitches.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">To save time when going out, I change </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Miss Flora’s nappy while Tomboy and Boywonder go to the toilet. I then </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">help </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">put </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">eight feet into four</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"> pairs of shoes (including mine). </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">All was going well </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">one morning </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">until Boywonder brought me the last pair of shoes. I undid the laces, </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">placed</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"> them on the desk and waited for the right pair of feet to come </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">to me</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">. After a minute I looked at the shoes and realised that no one was coming to get their shoes on</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"> –</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"> because they were my shoes.</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Everyone else was already shod</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;"> and waiting for me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">I suppose it’s not as bad as the time I dressed Boywonder in Tomboy’s pyjamas after their bath one night. If you think my not noticing that I was putting bright pink pyjamas on my five-year-old son is bad – he didn’t notice until after I’d pointed out my mistake!</span></span></div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-36534475429608008642011-05-16T11:50:00.000+10:002011-05-16T11:50:31.411+10:00Psychopathic…<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">The Apprentice and Uni Student took Tomboy and Boywonder to the shops in Uni Student’s car. They connected Uni Student’s iPod to the car stereo via bluetooth, thus enabling The Apprentice to change songs without touching the iPod. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">After watching The Apprentice fast-forward to the songs that Tomboy requested, Boywonder asked The Apprentice how she was doing it.<span> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘I’m psychopathic,’ she replied. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">We assumed she was trying to say she was psychic and/or telepathic, but after this morning’s events we’ve since added psychotic to the meaning.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">The Apprentice broke down on the way to TAFE during peak hour traffic. Her boyfriend (TAB – The Apprentice’s Boyfriend) was at work. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">My first question was, of course, ‘Do you have roadside assistance?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘No, I'm not paying for that! TAB’s my roadside assistance.’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Have you called him?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘Yes, but he can’t make it!’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">(She’s obviously not heard the saying – You get what you pay for!)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">After dropping Boywonder at school I go and pick her up. In the meantime, Uni Student goes online and gets The Apprentice some roadside assistance. All the way home The Apprentice tells me that she didn’t want to join RACV roadside assistance, as she doesn’t like that they have a monopoly on it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Hmmm, a company having a multitude of cars out on the road to quickly get to those who have broken down is a monopoly and, apparently, a bad thing. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Her alternative, and also her preferred choice, was to try to drive it home, but I wouldn’t let her do it. It involved driving her car, which wouldn’t accelerate faster than 20 km/h as it spluttered and threatened to conk out, across four lanes of the freeway with traffic bearing down on her at 100 km/h. She would then have to drive her car across the boggy grass area to cross another four lanes of the freeway (heading in the other direction), again with traffic bearing down on her at 100 km/h. If she managed the suicidal freeway crossing, she would then attempt to drive her car all the way home in the emergency lane at 20 km/h.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Psychotic…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-25882012497589579552011-05-14T10:09:00.001+10:002011-05-14T18:37:54.753+10:00Whose Poo?<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">Five nights out of seven, Tomboy gets the urge to evacuate her bowels mid-dinner. I don’t know if she’s making more room in her belly or just wants to escape the dinner table for a while, but it’s a regular occurrence. It wouldn’t be such a problem if she learned to wipe her own bum!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">On this occasion she said she needed to ‘go to the toilet’ and left the table. Not long after she disappeared into the toilet (the room, not the actual toilet), she yelled out, ‘I found a poo!’ </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">We thought that she had put off pooing because of her discovery, so I yelled back, ‘Whose poo?’ </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">‘My poo!’ was her reply. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">We’re not sure if it was a ‘surprise’ poo (the poo you don’t know about until it’s arrived) or if this was her first ever look in the toilet bowl after doing her business. She gets rather indignant when asked sensitive questions, especially if everyone’s attention is on her, awaiting a reply, so we left that one alone.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Verdana;">And just in case you’re wondering – I got to wipe her bum.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-31640036190914140452011-05-10T21:26:00.000+10:002011-05-10T21:26:21.825+10:00Mother's Day<div style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My Mother’s Day started on Thursday with a special visit to the kindergarten with the other mums. We spent an hour being pampered and making princess things with our children. The mums got to be the princesses!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After Tomboy and I enjoyed decorating a portrait of myself as a princess, making a princess crown and reading a book together, we moved to the table that had fairy pillows on it. They were for me to rest my hands on while Tomboy gave me a hand massage with some hand moisturiser. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I asked Tomboy if she wanted my hands palms up or down and she turned them so they were palms up. She then stuck her finger in the tub of moisturising cream and dropped a big dollop in my right palm. She then got another rather large dollop and dropped it into my left palm. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tomboy wasted no time spreading the cream about on my hands. Realising that she had quite a bit of cream on her own hands, she stopped spreading it about on mine and proceeded to rub her hands together. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Still sitting there with slathers of cream on each palm (there was enough to do my legs too), I reminded her about my hands. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">‘Rub them together like this!’ she said as she continued to rub her hands together in a vain attempt to get rid of it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And that was the end of my hand massage. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The rest of our activities were a little hampered after that. Pulling tiny heart stickers off of a sticker sheet to stick on a plastic pot or threading small beads to make a princess bracelet is extremely challenging when performed with slippery hands. (The teacher had to tie my bracelet together!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At least I have my wonderful portrait, drawn by Tomboy to remind me of how much fun we had together. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic96NMhQB_JnUOjMOBt-tqeK4x31KiJCRKckDipAHj2e-RxN2JDqr5Vf8HEN92dU8K8ECgcobvxfSnKp-Qj0t2jX8xrhc-vPuw19vflxosKzTKUy4ANKgpTbUOiQDDewcJn-13DJfgMCJ8/s1600/Photo+22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic96NMhQB_JnUOjMOBt-tqeK4x31KiJCRKckDipAHj2e-RxN2JDqr5Vf8HEN92dU8K8ECgcobvxfSnKp-Qj0t2jX8xrhc-vPuw19vflxosKzTKUy4ANKgpTbUOiQDDewcJn-13DJfgMCJ8/s320/Photo+22.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Her talents are exceptional. See how well she’s captured my double chin. And that isn’t a line of pimples, it’s my diamond necklace and, no, she didn’t make me a ‘ranga’ with a mohawk, that’s an orange tiara. The blue eyeshadow was my idea, reminiscent of the eighties. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’d love to say that Mother’s Day on Sunday was filled with self-indulgence, but I worked all day, while Mr T cleaned the house and kept the kids busy so I could get on with the job. I did, however, spend the day in my pyjamas (the benefits of working from home) and received some wonderful presents. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At least Boywonder didn’t declare the day his five minutes after I opened my presents – like he did last year. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1756411338" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></a><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://becausemumsaid.blogspot.com/2010/05/mothers-day-or-is-that-boys-day.html" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">http://becausemumsaid.blogspot.com/2010/05/mothers-day-or-is-that-boys-day.html</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div> <span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3557510037207302891.post-3270299516724350032011-05-05T19:56:00.001+10:002011-05-06T06:51:15.738+10:00When Thinking Outside the Square Isn’t the Best Idea<div style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was doing the dishes when I heard The Apprentice banging about at the kitchen bench and then swear. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A quick investigation of the problem revealed that when she was trying to open a tin of catfood, the metal loop that you hook your finger through and pull had broken off. Well known for thinking ‘outside the square’, The Apprentice was using a teaspoon to try and prise the lid open. This might have worked if the loop had lifted the edge of the lid at all before it broke, but it hadn’t. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lucky for The Apprentice I happened to have a new invention in the kitchen that would solve her problem within seconds. I pulled it out of the drawer and attached it to the top of the can. I then turned the handle so that it moved around the top of the can, miraculously lifting the top off as it went around. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I told The Apprentice that since this new invention opened the can, the ideal name would be a can opener.</span></div>Cartillyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09928996736734996067noreply@blogger.com0