Out of the mouths of babes...

I have a stubborn daughter. Actually, that might be unfair. I have a daughter who adores rules and order, and until I understood this pivotal aspect of her nature, we butted heads - even more than we do now! It irks her terribly when she sees rules being ignored (exceptions are at times given to herself, however) and she can't help but bowl in and solve the problem or demand that justice be served. When there are no clear rules, she is a nightmare. Every unstated or unwritten regulation will be tested and tried to the point of extreme exasperation. Once any boundaries have been outlined and discussed at length however, things are usually reasonably plain sailing. Unless of course she sees a loophole in said law, and then said law is put on trial, resulting in even more extreme exasperation.

She's actually quite lovely, really!

Her somewhat anti-social behaviours have been the target of our parenting bootcamp at regular intervals since she hit an age where it became obvious that it was needed. Basically when I realised that the reason little old ladies had stopped cooing over the curly-haired cherub in the pram was because she was turning them to stone with her withering glares.

We do a lot of role play. You know: "when *** says / does *** what would a good friend say / do to solve the problem?" Basically all of the feel-good blah that you read in parenting books. We didn't have much choice though, because only the playgroup Biter (every group has one - is it your kid?) gets more social derision than the rude little monster that sticks its tongue out at anyone that glances sideways in its direction.

Anyway, I think we might be making progress. She still has to make a conscious choice to be polite. She isn't naturally predisposed towards pleasantness, and still needs to vent a long spiel of negative happenings in her day before she is relaxed enough to sleep. A bit like poor old Eeyore, actually.



But she is thinking about her actions. She has realised that other people have feelings. She has realised that her behaviour influences other people's feelings - beyond manipulating parents, of course. She realised that a LONG time ago! And she is coming out with some classic comments, usually said in a loud, indignant voice.

Like this one:
"Mum, that lady didn't have a smile, so I gave her one of mine. It was a NICE smile, and she's STILL grumpy. Must be a pretty bad old day SHE'S having."

**cue mother to die a thousand deaths**

Or:
"Mum, those kids aren't 5. I think they're actually only 3. They're not allowed on that equipment without an adult."

Or:
"Excuse me, can you get out of the way? Slides are for going DOWN, not UP."

Note, there is no screaming or tongue-sticking (AKA 'The Tongue Dance' - Rule Loophole #213) just clear, stated opinion. Not particularly welcome, but not entirely offensive at this stage either. I no longer fear she's heading toward a childhood spent as a social pariah (though to be fair, she probably wouldn't care, as long as she was justified!) and she might actually be grasping some pretty important concepts about human behaviour. If she's smart - like her father - she'll use them well in life and charm her teachers and superiors. If she's not - like her mother - she'll just have to put her bossiness to good use and BE the freaking teacher!

"Just sit with me, Mummy"

Caleb has Man Flu. To be fair, he has had a wretched night - sobbing, coughing, groaning, generally keeping us all awake as much as humanly possible - but he sure knows how to milk it.

Parenting has been hard work with our two cherubs lately. Sophie has hit four with a vengeance and to be honest, she could do with starting school. However, the Ministry of Education and I differ in our opinions on this matter (and many other matters, but lets save that for another post ;-)) so I have another year of four-ness to relish before I unleash her quirky fabulousness on Mrs Pester in Room One. The arguing is almost constant, the 'no nonsense' sticker chart has somehow evolved into a a negotiating tool that would challenge the best UN peacekeeper, and she has revealed a temper that has startled more than a few innocent passers-by. Our current sanity saver is Nigel Latta's 'Ladder of Certain Doom' but I'm sure its tenuous reign will soon end.

Caleb is two. Need I say more? He sometimes tricks me into thinking he's older (in depth discussions about poisonous berries and the classification of dinosaurs and insects will do that. It's entirely his fault) but essentially, he's contrary because he's two. I hope. "I will do it MINESELF, thank you!" is a common declaration, but due to two-ness, it often goes badly. He also adores breaking things, and will do so on purpose to get attention when he decides he warrants it. Particularly high on his destruction list are precious things belonging to the female members of the family, due most likely to them giving the most impressive display of negative attention. Of course after serving his sentence, he'll be at his most charming, wheedling his way back into our good books with his tear-stained hugs, kisses, and "I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to".

Needless to say, there has been a fair bit of barking going on here, and it ain't coming from a dog...though wouldn't that be nice **subtle dig at dog-disliking husband**. I have noble ideas about dealing with Caleb's behaviour, but very often they end up being discarded for the 'easy' option, which is generally lecturing, growling, threatening, confiscating, more lecturing (using longer words), door-locking, etc. Often the level of naughtiness escalates before I have my plan of attack sorted - what started as a sneaky poke in Sophie's ribs as she walked past, turns into a handful of hair being yanked out of her head in moments. Rascal!

So anyway, he's sick. He needed a sleep. I took him to bed, did the usual quiet sleepy time business, and he kicked up unholy Hell. Much screaming, door banging, wretched sobbing etc. I started to threaten and then realised I couldn't be bothered. I walked into his room and a pitiful wee voice said "Just sit with me, Mummy". And I did. And you know what? He was asleep in less than TWO MINUTES.

Perhaps I need to do more 'sitting' with my kids. Maybe armed with a cattle prod to give them a gentle nudge every now and then ;-)

Sophie and Caleb's first foray into the film industry

After entertaining (or possibly torturing!) the fair citizens of Rangiora with endless renditions of The Three Little Pigs whilst shopping this afternoon, we got out the groovy puppets a friend gave Sophie for her birthday and acted it out. After a few renditions, it suddenly occurred to me that I should record their efforts, because they'd be excellent humiliation ammunition for their 21st birthdays.

So here is a few (long) minutes of what we got up to. Poorly edited and shot, but a bit funny if you can bear the length of it. Or maybe I'm just turning into one of those mothers that think their children are amazing / amusing / beautiful when they're actually gormless little twerps who drive every otherwise normal person within a 10 mile radius insane **twitches slightly**

Anyway, what struck me as I watched the video, was how much I interrupt my children - SHOCKER! How rude. And how often I interrupt their wonderful, creative ideas with how the story *should* go. Must stop that. Whose game is it, anyway? And who cares? What am I actually teaching them by doing that? That things must be *right*? That their ideas aren't as good as the *right* ones? Not ideals I want to imprint on them in any case. I should video myself parenting more often - I suspect I'd change a few things as a consequence...

Anyway, here it is. Feel free not to watch, and let me know if I'm in danger of descending into blinkered parent territory.

Here 'tis!

Minutes of Bell Family Meeting - 22/5/11

Present:
Dad (Smirker in the Corner)
Mum (Chairperson / Secretary / General Dogsbody)
Sophie Bell (Chief Whinger and Complainer of All Things Unfair)
Caleb Bell (Holder of Bottom Rung in Pecking Order)
Buzz and Lemon Meringue the goldfish (no speaking rights)

Apologies:
Barry the Cat (didn't bother showing up - rude!)

Matters Arising:
1) Meeting is called to order by Mum and rules of the 'Talking Stick' explained.
2) Rules of the talking stick clarified once more.
3) Sophie takes hold of Talking Stick and explains reason for meeting - Caleb is guilty of stealing precious Hello Kitty clock (purchased with own money) and throwing it in his room, resulting in it being "smashed to bits". Demands that a new one be purchased, this time a Princess themed one (over Hello Kitty phase) that can hang on wall, out of pesky little brother's reach..
4) Stick passed to Caleb, who freely admits stealing and smashing said clock, and proceeds to tap fish tank with Talking Stick, unperturbed.
5) Stick passed to Mum, who reminds all parties that new clocks cost money, of which Caleb has none. Mum and Dad should not send their money on clock when they have no involvement with crime.
6) Dad mentions particularly sad state of family finances due to yet another nasty lawnmower repair bill.
**Muttering heard from Mum's end of the table about lemons and second-hand ride on mowers. Unclear and spoken out of turn, so not minuted**
7) Mum asks Caleb how he can get some money.
8) Caleb suggests going to the shop and buying some money, before removing himself from the meeting. Slips on book left on floor and bangs head on corner of magazine rack. Cries.
**Meeting adjourned briefly until order restored**
9) Caleb returned to meeting and instructed to stay until issue has been resolved.
10) Rules of the talking stick clarified once more.
11) Sophie suggests chores for Caleb to earn money.
12) Caleb flogs Talking Stick and runs away.
**Meeting restored briefly until order restored**
13) Role of Talking Stick clarified once more.
14) Sophie raises hands and shares her carefully thought out list of appropriate chores.
- Feeding Minty twice a day for a week
- Picking up stones.
15) Sophie reminded that Minty eats grass and no-one ever feeds her, so that is not an appropriate chore. Talking Stick abandoned.
16) Dad gets gleam in eye at prospect of stone removal from lawn, potentially preventing further nasty lawn mower repair bills.
17) Mum agrees.
18) Sophie smirks.
19) Restorative justice achieved and meeting adjourned, 2:05pm.

Bliss in a swiss roll tin...

Chocolate and Peanut Butter Brownie

180g butter
150g dark chocolate
1 3/4 cup sugar
4 eggs
3/4 cup flour
2 tbsp self-raising flour
1 tsp vanilla essence
1/3 cup cocoa
50g extra dark chocolate
3 tbsp crunchy peanut butter

Line (why do they always suggest greasing as well? I never do) a swiss roll tin.
Melt together butter and 150g chocolate.
In a bowl lightly beat the eggs then add sugar, vanilla ess, flour and cocoa.
When the butter and chocolate mixture has melted allow it to cool slightly before adding to the other mixture. If you don't, it does strange frothy, early cooking things. Trust me.
Stir together then add remaining chocolate bits.
Place in tin.
Soften the peanut butter then with a spoon blob it on top of the brownie.
Using either a sharp knife or skewer swirl the peanut butter so that it creates a marble effect on top.
Bake at 160 degrees until just set - 40 minutes or so.

That is all. Happy calories...

Recent happenings

I've been getting the odd subtle (and sot so subtle!) reminder that I haven't updated for ages. There is a very good reason for this - nothing's happening!

We're trudging on in post-quake Canterbury, avoiding driving into Christchurch where possible, which our pockets are thanking us for in light of the truly horrific petrol prices these days. Whenever I think I might like to pop into town, I ask myself if it's worth spending $15 on - usually it's not!

The other day I ventured into the city to buy some of the alternative flours that I mix to make Caleb's gluten free bread mix. What is usually a 35 minute trip took forever, as I constantly hit the cordoned off 'Red Zone' that is keeping the worst hit areas of the CBD off limits. A thousand U-turns and curses later, we reached our destination (Discount Food Warehouse, for those who care - worth a look for flours, nuts and spices. And scary-looking Hindu pictures of ladies with lots of hands to terrify your children :D) and I was nearly at the point of tears over the stress of it all. This particular building was the only one green-stickered and open down what is usually a very busy inner-city block. Very sad, but I'm choosing to be excited about what our 'new' city will be like, instead of mourning the past. Perhaps we dare to hope that they might get public transport right - actually have a system that runs on time and inspires commuters to leave vehicles at home. There is talk of buildings being required to be 3 levels or less, and obviously they will be as quake-proof as current technology and design allows. The city-scape will be very different, but potentially a very exciting place to live, work and play. I think I should work for the council ;)

I have also been very busy at work. Typically, my planning for this term included many grandiose ideas that will drive to the brink of insanity before they are realised, but I'm still of the vain hope that we'll get there, providing there are no more earthquakes closing us down again.

Our biggest trial of late is the continual toilet-training drama that Caleb has us all engaging in. I'm pretty sure at some point he's going to decide that really, there are better things to be doing with his precious 2 year old time than requiring Mum, Dad and even Sophie to dash around, stress, wash copious amounts of clothing, clean up puddles and foul messes while he watches on with a smirk on his face. Or maybe he knows he's onto a good thing...

We have days that are perfect, and days that he and the toilet are not on speaking terms. We also have days when he is fine, until he spots that shiny, sparkly thing on his way to the loo and forgets he needs to go RIGHT THEN **head> - < desk**

Anyway, he's the routine that must be adhered to for all toiletting, and NO HELP is accepted. It really is no wonder we have messes!

Step One: Remove trousers and undies entirely.
Step Two: Close toilet Lid.
Step Three: Climb on toilet lid and turn on light.
Step Four: Climb off toilet lid.
Step Five: Lift up lid and seat of toilet.
Step Six: Climb on toilet.
Step Seven: Realise seat is up and bottom is cold on toilet bowl.
Step Eight: Hop off toilet.
Step Nine: Pull down toilet seat.
Step Ten: Hop on toilet and do business.
Step Eleven: Shake off drips VERY thoroughly. There is always one more when you think you are done.
Step Twelve: Hop off toilet
Step Thirteen: Pull lid down.
Step Fourteen: Climb on lid.
Step Fifteen: Flush toilet
Step Sixteen: Hop off toilet.
Step Seventeen: Realise light is still on so climb back on toilet and turn it off.
Step Eighteen: Try to get undies and trousers on. Fail.
Step Nineteen: Decide life is less complicated with no pants anyway, so run off and play bare-bottomed.

Bless his trying wee soul...

This morning he did some threading to make a collar for his stuffed dog. Pipe cleaners made the threading much easier and it actually kept him quiet for more than 5 minutes. Or maybe that's an exaggeration. It was at least 3, anyway!



Today we went to the park, and for poor Sophie, an inevitable travesty has occurred - her brother now balances out the see saw! She was furious to be left stranded at half altitude and a lot learning regarding the laws of physics ensued. I think she worked out where she needs to sit to bring it down in the end, but not without a great deal of swinging, bellowing and declaring that "I'M THE BIGGEST, you're only TWO!" The joys of being of mousy proportions and having a brother just 16 months younger!






Caleb has always had an oddly obsessive nature, and although he is still fiercely fond of windmills, hot air balloons and eggs, he has developed a fascination for space and bugs. I suspect a certain Space Ranger may have something to do with this. The park we went to today had a climbing frame shaped like a planet, and he was delighted to have "Satuuuuuuurrrrrrn" to clamber on and have as a base to call 'Star Command'.



He startled me in the supermarket the other day by spelling out C-U-S-T-O-M-E-R S-E-R-V-C-E before attempting to sound it out. Being the neglected second child, I really haven't had the time or inclination to teach him anything other than to use the freaking toilet (please, dear child, PLEASE!) and to sleep through the night. Both of these have been somewhat spectacular failures. Obviously the Leap Pad Fridge Phonics that drives me so batty works. Either that or his sister should follow me into the teaching profession!

So that is it, really. The city is still mostly munted, Caleb's toileting is obviously ruled by the lunar cycle, planetary alignment or the number of shiny, sparkly things to be found on the way to the loo, and he's obviously a certifiable genius that will undoubtedly provide extremely well for his long-suffering parents in their retirement.

Pretty quiet month, really!

Feathered friends / fiends

I haven't updated for ages. To those admirable folk who care enough to read my ramblings, I do apologise. In the craziness of the post-quake world hereabouts, I've been pretty distracted, though to be fair, visiting family and my old friend Workoholism have played a part too. I forgot how much I actually love my job, when I'm not stressing over childcare and functioning on minimal sleep. I'm enjoying seeing some fairly massive academic gains take place in my class, though teaching a very boy-heavy bunch is certain to lead me to the brink of insanity sometime very soon.

Anyway, I digress...

A few months ago, we got some chooks. They were promptly named Cinderella, Ariel, and Fizz. We can mostly tell them apart, though when Fizz grows the feathers back around her nether regions, it may become difficult.

We had always intended to get chooks, but Steve had grandiose plans for the Taj Mahal of hen houses, so there was quite a building process before we were ready. To his credit, the finished product didn't cost us a cent, and was made entirely from salvaged or recycled building materials. It even has a fancy wee flap to access the laying boxes, though we had to do a bit of work convincing them that they were suitable boxes, as they preferred the floor for a while. I would perhaps like a gate on the run, as we've shredded two favourite clothing items whilst climbing the 'we'll-never-need-to-actually-climb-that' fence already. Am also becoming adept at clipping feathered wings, but more about that later...




Pretty flash, aye?

The first bunch are common old brown shavers. They lay very reliably, and are incredibly tame. The kids spend a lot of time playing with them, picking them up, feeding them, and generally having a merry old time.

Today we acquired a pair of banty / shaver crosses - one old lady, prone to broodiness, and a young cockerel (okay, I just wanted to type that word!) that will end up in my lovely new casserole dish the day he learns to crow. We are very fond of the theory of wee chickens running about, but the idea of an early wake up call is a little unsettling when we are this close to restoring our child-induced sleep deficit.

So against our better judgement, and following the advice of the fair folk who gave us the chooks, we just bunged them in with the others straight off. I built a funky wee teepee of branches as an alternative roost if they were made unwelcome in the Taj Mahal, and left them to fight out the pecking order.

A few hours (or was it minutes?) later, I was seen dashing off up the hill, wielding Steve's precious trout net (which to be fair hasn't had a LOT of use for its intended purpose for a variety of reasons **winks and waits for backlash later**) and swiping at two amazingly quick chooks.

There were howls of mirth from the deck, as Steve (recovering from knee surgery) watched and attempted to video my gallant efforts at catching both rascals in the net. Some foul (fowl? **groans at own humour**) words may have been uttered at this point, and he limped and grimaced his way down to give me a hand.

Eventually we caught both, though not without some drama. Minty attempted to help and ended up chained up for her efforts. If it wasn't for her prize-winning efforts at the local A&P show recently, she'd be heading for a long slow stint in my casserole dish too!

Speaking of which...



She went on to win 4th (**ahem** last) in the champion all age round, but we shan't dwell on that. Minty and Sophie are the reigning champions of the Oxford A&P Association Preschool Pet Lamb class, and nothing shall deter our pride in such an achievement, even the tantrum that ensued during said championship round.

We've also been having a great deal of fun with the tops sawn of a friend's retaining wall posts. My intention is to concrete them in as a meandering climbing feature for the kids, but in the meantime, they make great building materials! I love watching their wee minds work as they build, balance, and play around with the laws of physics. Trying not to twitch about that treated timber...