That awkward moment when your child calls your bluff

Hi there! I'm back from my holiday, settling into my new place slowly, and ready to blog some more. The kids are getting used to the new house, the backyard seems much more interesting and they have new, exciting bedrooms to destroy (I give them about 8 days.)

Moving house really disrupted their routine, as it tends to do when all of your things are in a box, and you suddenly live in a different town. Jack and Isabel have shared a room for maybe a year, and never been fantastic at going to sleep at night from toddlerhood up, but in a fresh house, they seem to have renewed energy levels for playing up at nighttime. In the past, we locked their doors with an extension cord- but then I kept needing to use an extension cord for things, so we progressed to a door lock fashioned out of some of Dave's old ties. This way, they can't come out of their room and eventually seem to give up and go to sleep.

In our new house, though, we have no tie-lock, unless I put it in a special box for weapons- to -use- on- children when we were packing, and haven't found it yet. So every five minutes, either Dave or myself bursts into their room with the usual "What's going on!? Back to bed. Blah blah. Random threat." After doing this for awhile, you quickly begin to realize if you have to go in every five minutes, what you are doing is not effective! Smacking bottoms- not working. Threats to take toys away for a whole day- not imminent, therefore not working. I'm tired and my brain is fried...I ran out of ideas. But then...

I burst into their room. (Using 'stern' voice...)"If I catch either of you out of bed or calling out AGAIN, you will go and sleep in the shed. Do you understand!??" They look at me with wide eyes and say "Yes Mummy," and I leave the room, satisfied that surely this time I have gotten through to them.

About 2 minutes later, almost on cue, it starts up again. Right! "Time to go to the shed." Jack panics. "No I'll be good! I'll stay in my bed!" and pulls his blanket up protectively. I reach out for Isabel and she quietly and compliantly takes my hand and follows me. "I like sleeping in the shed," she assures me," cos I'm brave."

Aww, crap.

I keep leading her to outside. "You know it's very dark in the shed".

"Yeah."

"And you'll be all by yourself."

"Yeah."

I know, here I am helping my child develop a phobia of the shed. Gold star for Mummy.

So I just keep marching her to the shed, pretending I, and not my three year old daughter, am in control. I will not lose to a three year old. I refuse. Must....save...face...

We get to the shed and I open it up. I look around and wonder what I actually expected her to do in there. Oh well, keep acting, can't show weakness. "Lie down,"I instruct her, and she obediently lies down on the concrete. I can't believe how pathetic this is. "Good night." I walk out the door leaving it open, and go back inside to sit down with my husband who has just witnessed my embarrassment. And now I wait.

Luckily for me, within a few minutes, Isabel returns and announces she is ready to stay in her bed, giving me an out. (YES!) So keeping up the stern facade, I escort her back to her bed.

And you know what? They both went to sleep without any more trouble. Dave thinks this is pure coincidence. I have no comment.

The joy of puking for 9 months

I was recently pondering the possibility that I could be pregnant with baby #4. Me feelings could be summed up as follows: AAAAARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Fortunately for myself (and everyone who has to live with me) that was not the case.

I do hope to have another baby one day, but not for a couple of years when I don't already have three pre-school age children, and hopefully when we are rich enough to experiment with possible cures for morning sickness, e.g. acupuncture, expensive anti-nausea medication, or a nanny....a surrogate...at the very least, sufficient funds to cover my daily requirements of hot chips.
(This was our plan for the last two- to have a little more money, and that didn't happen, so, fingers crossed for next time!!)

I am waffling. My point is, as I contemplated the world crashing down around me, having three kids destroying the house for the next nine months while I lie on the couch in the foetal position, or with my head over the toilet, crying about how miserable pregnancy is and how incredibly annoyed I am that I have to pay for food I will no doubt vomit up anyway, I remembered last time I was faced this this situation.

I lived in Perth and had literally just finished becoming a qualified personal trainer, maybe a week or two before. I was pretty sure almost immediately that I was pregnant and was merely waiting it out until I could actually check. I was doing a bunch of errands at Joondalup shopping centre and I was pushing around a trolley with Jack and Isabel playing and screaming and crying and jumping in and out, all frazzled and dishevelled, and we entered the pharmacy where I found a pregnancy test. I remember the overwhelming embarrassment I felt walking to the front counter as people turned to look at all the racket coming from my kids while I attempted to threaten or distract them, and then placing the box on the counter while I deliberately avoided the saleslady's gaze. Ohhhhh the humiliation. Young out of control mum with psycho kids buying a pregnancy test, don't you just feel sympathy hearing about it? It's like, Oh, the crazy cat lady is getting another cat, cool.

At some point I took the test, it was positive, and i don't even remember any of this or telling my husband or anything, you see this is how frequently I get knocked up, I can't even separate different pregnancies any more! We also moved two hours away to a smaller town (city? It feels like a small town) halfway through the pregnancy so that wasn't all that much fun. I got huge, like with the other pregnancies, so I was very used to questions about if I had my dates right, and was I sure it wasn't twins. My favourite was at the gym, this guy said to me,"Not long to go now, huh?" I was three and a half months pregnant. SIX months left. At the end of my pregnancy, I recall someone walking past me saying WOW.

Now I have my baby, Sophia Adele. She is almost one now, standing up by herself and trying to walk. Eep! I am absolutely in love with her. I love all my children, of course, but Sophia is still little enough that I am her favourite person, and that feels very, very nice. She smiles and laughs and buries her face in my chest and puts her arms around my neck tightly. Plus she is very cute (says her Mum). But it does make it worth it to go through all the ickiness of pregnancy and then have a beautiful child. LUCKILY.