....if that art was Blue Poles. i.e. Organised chaos but not really organised. Jackson and I just say it is to save face.
I don't blame the big fella. He has worked like a navvy on the ark today and collapsed on the couch during the 7 o'clock news. Fortunately all the glass fruit was in place and his stuffed toy had not been culled. I, on the other hand, had developed a slight twitch in my left eye as I reflected at one point on the surrealism that is real life.
"I wonder what sort of deck railing would suit my own aesthetic and that of my lovely wife. zzzz.."
Meanwhile, in another room, Annie McPhee comes to an abrupt realisation.
"Good Grief, there are five of them! It's like Raising Arizona in here!!!"
5 a.m. B2 gets up for swimming training but can't find his goggles. So he doesn't go after all and I am awake AT FIVE A.M.!
6 a.m. Drive him to retrieve his shoes from school where he left them the previous night.
7 a.m. Feed, wash, check, spot sponge, feed etc. Put on laundry, empty dishwasher etc.
8 a.m. Drop them at school. Discover party invitation on the footpath for my sons that is wet with overnight dew.
9 a.m. Begin hanging washing, cleaning up brekky, blah blah, fall asleep during Playschool. Jay has five children. How is he is so perky?
10.10 a.m. Clean up toddler's room. Do puzzles to stimulate brain and rejig the dollhouse. Make cubby. Toddler goes knees up trying to sit on cubby roof which is made of a sheet.
10.40 a.m. Find oneself talking with red teletubby about elections and foreign policy.
1.00 p.m. Having failed to feed toddler anything but ice, bail and go to Ron and Brian's to drop off their new wards. 'Twas the drive of shame. Roadkill Teddy, don't gloat! (Note the yellow and turquoise Louenhide bag I got there a while ago for $4.)
1.10 p.m.Bang the toddler's finger between the car door and pole she is swinging on. Ply her with McChips to assuage the guilt.
"Look Mother. This is how you stop the tick in your left eye."
1.30 p.m. Look in op shop expectantly. Find nuttin'. Nice Lala brings flowers home again. I tweak them unnecessarily.
4.oo p.m. Attend parent teacher meeting for Fishy. Drop older sons at park for a play with mates then a quick spot of gardening . This is a purple cauli broc thing from the garden. It may have picked it too late!
5.20 p.m. Receive garbled phone call to pick up B1 who had rolled in grass at the park and received a constellation of green-ant bites all over his lower back. Send big fella to dole out the first aid. Start cooking inevitable spag bog.
6.00 p.m. Lala says she needs Pavlova for school report tomorrow. Consult the guru cook book.
6.30 p.m. She loses her homework, we find it, we make the pav. Never make pav when it's humid.
6.45 p.m. Fish jumps on the bandwagon needing help with his homework task. Does this not seem a bit wordy for year 5 ?
7.00 p.m. Find Harriet, the chicken, languishing in the corner of the coop. I google her condition. Check out the first symptom of a sick chook below. Eek!
7.30 p.m. Complete the pavlova, start on the Madrid Protocol and put the overtired Shorty to bed. Tend to the bites.
8.00 p.m. Big Fella wakes up refreshed to ask if I would like chops for dinner. Was it all a dream? Why am I cranky?
8.30 p.m. Now it's time to relax with my other hobby, the art of folding, and we're not talking origami. It was a long 18 hours.
Disclaimer: For the first time I fell asleep writing a post and had to heavily edit the gibberish on the screen this morning. I apologise for any inherent tedium and delirium that may be present.
My 'sick' brother and I went to purchase shoes from the village square.
I tarried amongst the boots.....
where I became entranced by these eerily pretty satin dancing slippers.
Indeed it seems they were bewitched for upon wearing them I was overtaken by a deep and unsettled slumber.
Strange dreams overtook me where my brother wandered in a glassy world amongst giant floating Zoolander heads.
In my dream we meandered home along a winding road under a grey ominous sky filled with clouds of purple blossom.
Then I found myself in a blingy room watching my sister's Rapunzel hair grow shorter....
and shorter as she coaxed the scissor-wielding, tattooed Amazon to cut it, "More like Matilda's!" Soon she was transformed ......
into a CLOWN ZOMBIE!
I was swiftly recruited into her spooky, kooky kids' cult whereupon...
we were whisked off to the castle of terrible twelve year old boys who did foam and froth at us.
There were pumpkins ....
and candles and cheerios and much atmosphere.
Next we were taken to the mansion of Scandy Andy of which my dear Mama often dreams. There we were plied with Gingerdead men and mandarines....
whilst mother was mesmerised by his latest West German oppy urn ......
and this hypnotically lovely orb of orange crushed glass. His powerful potion of gin and grapefruit juice sent her spiralling into a deeper trance from which she cackled in delight as she stroked his vases.
Then, most bizarre of all, dear ones, I was walked to the door of a stranger's house to knock and beg and thereupon be bestowed with Chuppa Cups! Seriously! They just gave them to me! Even the nanna's have not reached such pinnacles of sugariness!
I tried it again,
This time I received a latex glove filled with popcorn.... strange times for a two year old.
The street began to fill with a colourful murder of fellow shorties driven by the fiendish desire to fill pillow cases and sequinned handbags with sugary booty.
We went to pick up the final brother in the triptych of horror to find his own dream of having a puppy to be finally fulfilled.
Late on this eve, I awoke briefly on the couch back in my home surrounded by my dearly beloveds to realise it must have all been a dream. The lollies had all disappeared and Mama was feeling a little unwell. Spooky!
