Mother's Day

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!

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.

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.

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.

Still sitting there with slathers of cream on each palm (there was enough to do my legs too), I reminded her about my hands.

‘Rub them together like this!’ she said as she continued to rub her hands together in a vain attempt to get rid of it.

And that was the end of my hand massage. 

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!)

At least I have my wonderful portrait, drawn by Tomboy to remind me of how much fun we had together. 

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.

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.

At least Boywonder didn’t declare the day his five minutes after I opened my presents – like he did last year.

http://becausemumsaid.blogspot.com/2010/05/mothers-day-or-is-that-boys-day.html

 

The Mummy Willeh Monster

Every now and then kindergarten children produce something a little more interesting than the standard odd-shaped circle containing three dots and a line to represent a face. After completing the picture with four longer lines pointing in random directions to represent the arms and legs, they incorporate their imagination into the drawings, but the results aren’t always what we expect.

Here’s a picture that Tomboy painted at kindergarten this week. I’m sure that, like me, you’re wondering what the short middle leg is and I have no doubt that, like me, you guessed right – it’s a willeh!

 

Just to be sure, I asked Tomboy and she confirmed it. She called the strange looking creature a willeh monster.

‘So it’s a boy monster,’ I said.

‘No, it’s a mummy monster,’ she replied.

‘But it has a willeh!’

‘Yes, it’s a mummy willeh monster,’ replied Tomboy matter of factly.

I reminded her, ‘I don’t have a willeh.’

‘I know, I was just pretending.’

So last week she told Mr T he had big boobs and this week she’s painting mummy as a monster with a willeh. (Mr T thought he had problems!)

There are many theories that can be tossed about on this one. Maybe she sees me as a monster when I’m angry (and rightly so), but that doesn’t explain the willeh.

She’s always been a bit put out that Mr T and Boywonder have willehs and we don’t. (It doesn’t help that Boywonder says they’re awesome because they have willehs.) Maybe she thinks she’s doing me a favour by giving me a willeh.

My favourite theory is that Mummy wears the pants!

So, Mummy looks like a monster when she’s angry, but she’s an awesome monster because she has a willeh.

Yep, that definitely says that I wear the pants…especially when I’m angry!

Imaginative Play 2

Boywonder and Tomboy's imaginative play just became a little more interesting. Tomboy was sitting on my rowing machine (they sit on it more than I do, but that's another story) pretending to drive Batman's car. She bellowed for Boywonder to come and join her in the car, but he preferred to watch television. 

Frustrated with Boywonder's lack of interest, Tomboy realised that she needed something to tempt Boywonder, so her next shout was, 'Bill and Ben are in Batman's car too. Do you want to drive with them?'

Bill and Ben are Boywonder's best friends from kindergarten and he knew they weren't here in our house or in Tomboy's imagined Batman car, but he leapt from his seat and raced to the rowing maching.

'Cool, when did you pick Bill and Ben up?' he asked Tomboy before climbing onto the back of the rowing machine. Of course he was careful not to stand or sit on Bill and Ben.

I can't help but be amazed at the boundaries they apply to their imagined games. Is it okay to add someone to your imaginary car if your playmate approves of the added passengers? 

I suppose it's not much different to the rules we impose on a game of beach cricket or catch and kiss. Who wouldn't change the rules just a little if chasing down Wentworth Miller, Will Smith or Brad Pitt for a kiss?

Who Peed In The Garden?

As I entered the kindergarten foyer to collect Boywonder I overheard a worrying conversation between some of the other mothers.

‘… one of the kids went to the toilet in the garden.’

Memories of an enlightening conversation with Boywonder the previous summer came flooding back to me …

Prior to starting kindergarten, Boywonder spent a year attending daycare one day a week. The thrill of learning things from someone other than us guaranteed he was soon bringing home new habits – both good and bad. He was always proud to tell us about his new friends and what he’d learnt from them. It was soon obvious he was more of a follower than a leader.

Then one scorching summer day, Boywonder proved us wrong; he showed me that he was a leader. We were sitting around the wading pool trying to cool down when Boywonder announced his urgent need to pee, but instead of asking for the potty, he asked if he could pee in the garden. I looked at my very pregnant belly and swollen ankles, thought about how often little boys peed behind a tree when I was growing up and said, “Sure.”

Boywonder wasted no time stripping his swimmers off and racing to the edge of the garden. He placed his hands on his out-thrust hips and began to pee. His stance was as comical as it was knowledgeable of how to pee in the garden; it was also obvious this wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Ready to blame his peers for leading my son astray, I asked if any of the other kids at day care peed in the garden.

 “Yes,” he replied.

“And who is that?” I asked.

“Me!” replied Boywonder glowing with pride.

… The classroom door opened and my thoughts snapped back to my present predicament. I cast my eyes about the kindergarten foyer, wondering if anyone knew which child had used the garden as a toilet. The other parents and I shuffled along the short hall that led from the foyer to the classroom. By the time I reached the door I was holding my hands behind my back and looking at my feet like a naughty child about to be punished.

I entered the classroom and Boywonder ran up to me, ready to go home with the teacher happily waving goodbye to us. As we walked out the door I saw the teacher attempting to catch someone else’s attention. It was impossible to see which of the twenty parents she was beckoning to, but I was convinced it was the parent of the outdoor urinator. I could empathise with the parent, so I did what any concerned parent would do. I told Boywonder we were in a hurry and ushered him to the car quickly; if I was going to quiz him about which child peed in the garden I had to do it before he became distracted and forgot.