I'm down to my last clean pair of underwear...

Winter is never kind to my piles. And before you roll your eyes and think "oh great, she's resorted to writing about hemorrhoids", rest assured, it is washing piles of which I speak. (This time...)

I know, blogging about laundry is one of the most droll topics in the world and quite possibly worse to suffer through than hemorrhoids, but before you roll your eyes even further, just wait a moment. I need help. I'm in a serious situation here. There is... I can't... I'm... I'm desperate. I'm drowning. Laundry seems to have been dumped upon our house like a snow bomb. I don't know where it's come from, but I'm almost tempted to roll it up into balls and throw it at the kids while shouting "snowball fight!" (Or in truth, while shouting "do your own bloody laundry for crying out loud I'm over it!")

I had a horrific nightmare on the weekend that the children were crying out for me and I couldn't reach them. I was trapped in a pitch black room, completely disorientated and something had tangled me up so I couldn't break free.

Then the Lad flicked on the bedroom light and I realised in my sleep-groggy state that the children were crying out for me and I really was tangled up - in washing!

I had slept through Guy Smiley calling out for me through the monitor at 3am.
I slept through him crying for me.
I slept through the Lily Bug waking and joining in the chorus of "Muuum! Mummy where you?!"
Then when their increasingly-frantic voices finally switched me into middle-of-the-night autopilot mode, I jumped to my feet and veered off in the wrong direction.
The dirty washing mountain had avalanched through the night so that it was no longer contained behind the bedroom door but in fact sprawled across the floor.
It disorientated me.
To make matters worse, I was so half-asleep, I wasn't even sure at that point what room I was in (Hell. The room I was in was called Hell.) and I kept trying to head towards the sounds of the kids through the baby monitor rather than the actual door on the opposite wall.
Truly, it was a horrific unnerving experience.

Note sarcasm about that 'otherwise immaculate house'...

Now normally, in the ideal world, nice neat laundry lives in a dresser or a wardrobe (or so I've been told.) And this is the conundrum we've arrived at: When we have more damp or dirty washing than we have neat and clean, where does it all go?

There are five of us in this house (excluding cats), we don't have a drier, and although winter has been fairly mild for us so far, Murphy's Law dictates that every time I try to hang washing on the line - even if it's a fine winter day - the clouds will smash together and dump water onto my nice clean laundry. Not because it's winter and that's what clouds do, but because I pissed off a Pagan Rain God, and I don't even know why.

The drying rack in the lounge is buckling beneath the weight of one load of towels, one school uniform, as many socks and undies as I could find amid the wreckage of the bedroom.The changeable weather has me darting in and out the door, hanging out washing then whipping it back in again at the sign of a shower until I feel like a human yoyo. (We had a thunderstorm this morning, then clear blue sky for most of the afternoon, then a sudden shower. FML!)

I'm down to my last clean pair of underwear. I've worn the same pair of jeans for four days straight. I haven't seen the Lad in over 24 hours but I did hear muffled screams yesterday and in hindsight, I think he may have been buried alive in the washing pile behind our bedroom door. And if that's the case. It's too late for him now. There were far too many of his rotten old socks in that pile for anyone to have survived the toxic fumes.

So as you can see, we're hitting crisis level here, and it won't be long until the house itself is buried and our family will be nothing but a history lesson for future school children. Kind of like the people of Te Wairoa. But without the volcanic eruption.

[Edited to add: Look at how much I have managed to write on the subject of LAUNDRY for crying out loud?! I need to get out of the house more...]

Things a small child probably doesn't need to know

There's really only so much a four year old needs to know. And in our family we often tend to answer our little ones questions far too readily, and without always stopping to think about the appropriateness of the originally overheard converstation that prompted them to make enquiries in the first place.

Take this snippet from tonight for example:

THE LAD: Yeah! I can get suicide bombers for my game now!
THE LILY BUG: What's suicide bombers?
ME: No....
THE LAD: They're people with explosives strapped to them -
ME: Nooo...
THE LILY BUG: What's explosives?
THE LAD: It's -
ME: Jarrod! No!
THE LAD: It's, uh... licorice.

Fortunately the Lily Bug was spared from nightmares involving suicide bombers tonight. Instead she may dream of a Willy Wonka type land involving licorice straps as personal clothing items.

Hmm. I'm not actually sure which might incur the greater nightmare.

I'm not entirely certain if it's nature or nurture, but sometimes our lovely kids come up with some strange stuff, right on their own accord and without any prompting from us at all. 

Take this snippet of crazy for example: The other morning I woke to the Lily Bug standing beside the bed, growling beneath her breath while wearing this mask (painted by Guy Smiley the night before).

I won't lie - I nearly shat a hole in the mattress. 

On a brighter and completely unrelated note, here's a wee gem that sprouted from a different conversation a couple of nights ago.


ME: You kids are geniuses.
THE LILY BUG: Wow! Really!!!
(I'm surprised at her excitement, and wonder how she knows what a genius even is. Until she turns to her brother and yells...)
THE LILY BUG: Guess what!?!? Mum said we're GENIES!!

Okay, but one last thing: Because I seem to love peppering my blog with post-dated entries like a wee treasure hunt of where the end result isn't treasure, but just a few more minutes of a reader's life wasted on my inane ramblings, here's another.

My question to the blogiverse is: What kind of cute/quirky/outright crazy stuff have your kids come out with? Come on, sharing is caring!

Blue Sky Winter

How is the weather for everyone this morning? 

What a beautiful crisp clear and oh-so-cold winter morning here in AK!! Cloudless blue sky... Warm croissants and hot coffee for breakfast... Thank goodness our bakery had them in stock this morning! $1.50 for a super-massive sticky sweet croissant - can't think of anything better.

Gonna make the most of it before the grey gloom settles back in - no working on graphics while the monkeys turn the lounge into a military-grade obstacle course today - it's picnic at the park day!

Now I'm off to pick up the Lily Bug from her first day of 'morning kindy' (yes, she's moved to the big little kids  session at last!)  and it's off to the park we go!


Water bottle - check.
More croissants - check.
Fruit - check.


And off we go!


Hope everyone else out there is having as beautiful a day as this. :)

It's been a long week...

It's been a long week with the Lad in America, and the monkeys and I'm counting down the day until he comes home (one more sleep - yay!) while snotty tissues mount up around us, and the early onset of winter sickness quells any urge to stomp around outside in muddy puddles.

Right now I sit here with nerves frayed from too many late nights trying to catch up on my tendency to schedule in too many design jobs all at once, as the monkeys swing off furniture, using my body as a spring board. Who knew my shoulders would be such a fun place to leap from?

Usually when the household turns to chaos, I grab a camera and photograph it. It's like I'm planning for my eventual Alzheimers and every little experience - even the messiest ones - are moments I never want to forget.

But not today. Today I'm missing my Lad, and sick and tired of the cabin-fever. Today it just feels like too much weight for my shoulders to bear.

My Children Are Human Paint Brushes.

With the weather finally turning to winter around here, the little monkeys are being confined to indoors more and more (and are home from kindy & playcenter this week because of colds!).

Who has any ideas for fun stuff to do when you're trapped inside?

Today I set the kids up in the kitchen with a large sheet of paper and some paint. I thought it would keep them occupied while I got some graphic work done... Of course, I was too busy snapping pics of the chaos to do any work, but it was a great way to spend an hour!

Recently I went to a four year old's birthday party and had a discussion with a couple of mums regarding messy play. Most regarded it with horror, even while saying "I'd love to let my little ones get messy but.. the clean up..."

Yes, clean up can be a mission, but look, it's so worth it! Nice clean tidy structured play is all well and good.... But my challenge to those who fear chaos is: Let your kids experience messy play. Come on! Throw a shower curtain down onto the kitchen floor and give them a big bowl of cornflour goop. It cleans up easy! And if they're hesitant to get stuck in - YOU get stuck in first! Show them how fun it is, and I PROMISE you, you and your kids will LOVE IT!

He's leeeeaving, on a jet plane!

So as of 9pm last night, The Lad has been on an LA-bound plane (possibly riddled with snakes) to attend E3. Which is... some gaming convention thing, idk? He won the trip after building a crashed plane display in his store to promote the release of Unchartered 3. 

Anyway... a couple of folk on Facebook land have asked for photos of the display, and as the memory card thingie with the pics is currently freezing every time I stick it in the computer (I've put it in front of the heater to see if that helps) I've drawn this nifty picture to represent his fine build. Behold...

One of his co-workers claimed on Facebook that he had seen the original, and this picture of mine looked kinda close. Poor lad. He deserves better recognition than that. Here's the original...

Rumours of my alien abduction have been greatly exaggerated.

 I went willingly.

But the anal probe was an optional extra. ;)

I moved my infinitemonkey.co.nz domain name off this blog and onto my own hosting space the other week, but somewhere upon the lines, my attempt to put a different domain name in its place failed. For a few days there, this blog drifted helplessly through cyberspace, closer and closer to the deep dark black hole of Total Oblivion until... Well, until I tried setting up a different sub-domain name, and now I'm back. I'm back, and the rumours about table dancing on board that alien spaceship were true. They were all true. And I regret nothing. (Although I'm not sure how I'm going to explain the green-skinned lizard tongued baby to the Lad.)

The problem is, I'm not sure that this rearrangement of URLS (I'm now located at http://agdf.infinitemonkey.co.nz) has broken my site for either those that follow it, or the kiwiwmummyblog directory it's linked at, so if you (you who? Anyone will do!) happen to be reading this, whoever you are, and you've come across this ramble via Kiwi Mummy Blogs or your RSS feed or whatever... Can you please please pretty please no I'm not begging of course not but maybe I am... Leave a comment?

A simple "hello" or "shut up you stupid plonker" will do! But better yet, because sharing is caring and all... Maybe you could comment by telling me something? Something about yourself? Yes, that's a good idea!

Tell me one thing about yourself that no one else in cyberspace knows.

Because in space, nobody can hear you scream.

Oh, and if you can tell me where that quote came from, I'll give you a cookie! (A special triple-choc candy coated internet cookie - yum!)

I think... I think my blog is moving...

I have not had much time to blog these days. In fact, I have barely blogged since January when I began creating graphics in exchange for the cash that funds our additional groceries (you know, the additional groceries we need by the weekend, after we've already spent our budget on the week's first wave of groceries, followed closely by 'money the teen needs for stuff like the school bus' and 'petrol to raise the gauge to empty').

And it sucks. It sucks because there is many a time when I want to blog, but I also need to finish a graphic job I've been commissioned to do. So when I weigh up financial gain against prosical soul purging (prosical? I made up that word. I couldn't think of the right word.) ... well... financial gain tends to win time and time again.

By the way - and this is completely off topic from my original topic - but no one even tried to guess what the fecal-looking matter was that was photographed upon a piece of toast in my last post. I am so so sad about that. That photo was my ultimate April Fools prank (April Fools day is 365 days a year in our household).  And I thought an open-ended question upon the lines of "guess what the poo-looking stuff on my toast is!" would generate feedback of some kind... :P

I did wonder if I'd offended people with my take on, eh, photographic art. But then I realised, Silly Callie. The scant few who read this blog never even saw the photo - they stopped reading when the opening paragraph suggested chilli sausage and labour would not make for a very ladylike combination!

Tree gum.

It was knobbly brown tree gum photographed on top of that piece of toast. We discovered it when geo-caching with friends at a nearby reserve. The Lily Bug ran towards me screaming "hold this poo mum!" and I nearly died. After finally being convinced it was tree gum, I collected up as much as I could find, to use in pranks on the family members. I'm incredibly mature like that.

 This photo contains no fecal matter at all. Though with a stormwater pipe running directly into Narrow Neck beach, I cannot offer a guarantee.

Anyway, back to the original point of this long-winded post...

While in the process of setting up my Infinite Monkey Design website, I've realised that rather than register yet another domain name (I have three already. Greedy pig I am.) it would make more sense to shift infinitemonkey.co.nz off blogger.com and on to my own webhost, which will revert this blog back to being infinitemonkeynz.blogspot.com. Unless I can redirect the subdomain blog.infinitemonkey.co.nz to my blogspot url.

Whichever option I go with in the next few days, I'm not sure if this blog's rss feed will become broken once the URLs change. So the gist of this ramble is, if you never have an update from me ever again, my switching about has likely disabled my rss feed, in which case please go directly to infinitemonkeynz.blogspot.com (or blog.infinitemonkey.co.nz).

Because... Seriously... Oh invisible and most likely non-existent readers... You don't want to miss out on my next blog post that's all written up and ready to post. 

It's all about perenial tears.

I've never had one, just for the record. But my next blog post is going to be all about them and you don't want to miss something like that, right?


RIGHT???!!!??

Things you probably don't want to know about me #37

What I'm about to tell you should not be revealed to anyone.

 I mean it.

I shouldn't be telling you this.

Why?

It's not highly classified government information. I'm not whistle-blowing on a large organisation. It's not a deep dark childhood secret that only a trained professional should ever have to deal with.

It's just pretty distasteful really.

In just a couple of days, Guy Smiley will celebrate his 2nd birthday. And I've been reminiscing on the events that led up to the birthing of my 10lb monster (sweet, lovely, loving monster that he is). Events I wish to share. Events that are perhaps, best kept between me and those poor hapless souls who were present in the room at his birth.

You see, I made the mistake of eating home made pizza with large quantities of chilli sausage & cheese the night before labour.

I don't know what drove me to it, especially when I knew the bun in my oven was well overdue. And especially after having endured a few weeks of excruciating 3rd trimester constipation. So as my own personal brand of Murphy's Law would have it, I woke the next morning at about 6am with bowl cramps that surpassed the labour pain I also found myself experiencing. Yup. There was no way I'd be having a water birth now.

I know. Whether or not you know me in person, this is already more than you've ever wanted to know about me. But wait, there's more...

So, a couple of weeks later when I had the courage to ask (and because I have a strange poo curiosity at times), I asked my midwife how common it was to poop oneself during childbirth.

"Every time." She told me. Every time?

"Yes. But usually the mummies have no idea, and even the dads don't notice - I'm very good at cleaning up discreetly."

I should've left it at that. Much as you should've left this post after my opening sentence. But like a rubber-necking passing a road accident, I had to know.   "So... Did...?"

"Absolutely."

Oh. I was so hoping she was going to lie to me.

But being as frank as my wonderful midwife was, she felt compelled to elaborate. "But don't worry, I just kept layering the paper towels over top. Again and again and again...."

Oh. Dear. Gods. No.

Which is probably the same thing you're thinking, as you wonder why I'm sharing this.

So I'll leave you now, with that to mull over. And I'll also leave you with this photo I took the other day. 10 points if you can tell me WHAT ON EARTH is on that piece of toast?

Seriously. I'll give you 10 points if you guess correctly. Because I'm generous like that. I'll also throw in a free piece of toast.



dɐs ǝǝɹʇ s,ʇI :ɹǝʍsuɐ ǝɥʇ

All this talk of food is making me hungry

The folk at Be Natural always seem to know when I've skipped the cereal aisle during a supermarket derby dash with the kids. They recently sent out an invitation to partake in another product review and, knowing how super yum their breakfast cereals are, I was more than happy to put my hand up and say "For the sweet sweet love of all things good in this world, pick meeeeee!"

This time the flavour was a new one due to launch this month (or has launched already? I suspect I should have written this review a good fortnight ago...) Manuka Honey & Spice Clusters with flakes.

The lil blurb on the back of the box told me the spice blend was cassia, nutmeg, cloves, white pepper, cinnamon & cardamom. White pepper eh? Interesting...

After lovingly stroking the cereal box for a while, much to the growing concern of my family, I ripped in and poured us each a bowl. Who cares if it was 4pm? Cereal is a 24/7 food in our house (which is why it always runs out so fast).

The spicy aroma was intriguing. Cloves. Hmm. Admittedly, I wasn't sure about this at first. Of course, I was sure I'd like it, I just figured the kids wouldn't, nor would the lad, and thus it would fall entirely upon my shoulders to finish the box off. ;)  And then I got about halfway through my bowl and I realised the kids were already draining the last of theirs. The Lily Bug had the bowl up to her mouth, head flipped back, slurping the last drops of spicy milk before scooping out the last few loose linseeds. So much for hogging it all to myself.

The thing I like about the packaging by the way - asides from its texture - is that it looks really nice sitting on my pantry shelf. I don't mean to sound like some kind of superficial person who determines a product's worth by the quality of the packaging, but the box is really really nice. Everything upon it from the graphic design to the product descriptions is just really appealing. Good grief, listen to me, I'm whipped.

Oh, and about that taste. Delicious spicy clusters with even-more-delicious Manuka honey and perfect-crunch wholegrain flakes that no other flake (apart from the Cadbury chocolate kind) can ever live up to? It's like an out of body experience.

For crying out loud, I really really am whipped, aren't I?