It was the kid’s Christmas celebration at school yesterday evening. I dragged my headachey self along and tried to hide from the bright, bright sun using only my sunglasses. It was not that successful. It was worth attending, however, as the festivities included singing from Poss and the presentation of a pen and ‘graduation’ certificate to Rhubarb.

He is a bit “whatever” about this graduation from primary school (as he’s been through it all before in the UK) but I think he’ll be pleased that he’s taken part in all the fun by the end of the week. Tomorrow the graduating year 7’s head to a water fun park for the day, on Thursday they have a dinner and disco and on Friday the traditional ‘muck-up’ activities. Then it’s all over.

He’s such a moody little thing at the moment that I’m not sure I’m ready to embrace the high-school version of Rhubarb (pity I have no choice). I’ll take comfort in the fact that he is still willing to give his Mum a cuddle and tell me he loves me (when he’s in the mood, and I’m not being too annoying).

Here he is accepting his certificate.

I also just have to share this as it’s so OMFGworthy. On the weekend, an ergo-stool collapsed on my forearm. It really didn’t hurt that much but there was a suspicious swelling of a vein straight after it happened. Anyhoo, it has blossomed into this gorgeous (and very impressive) bruise. I bruise easily but this is just ridiculous.

Second shot just for some perspective on the size of it relative to my arm. Not small!

So, the lovely Beefcake has set up an account for me on his work laptop instead of the kids one. It’s funny, three weeks ago he wouldn’t have dreamed of letting me use his laptop but now he feels sorry for me. Hehe.

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Last night, after Rhubarb had been out with his Dad (who turned up 45 minutes late but at least turned up), he came to my room to see me. I was lying on my bed feeling all shitty about my computer and just low cos I’m exhausted at the moment. He sat down on the bed and we were just playing with Grub and chatting. He was trying to cheer me up and I just thought it was a nice conversation.

R: Muuuuum?
Me: Yeeaaaah
R: You know how you and Daddy* do the good parent/bad parent thing, with you as the bad parent?
Me: Heh, yeah
R: You’re not the bad parent, you know
Me: Yeah, I know, I rock and Daddy’s the bad parent
R: Nooooooo, you’re both the good parents
Me: I think we take it in turns
R: Heh, yeah, probably, but I mean, I think you’re both good parents

It did cheer me up.

*He calls Beefcake Daddy

Rhubarb refused to go with Poss to their Father’s house this weekend. I couldn’t bring myself to force him.

His father was actually understanding. Beefcake did an excellent job of talking FW and his wife through it. Helping them to understand what Rhubarb is going through. He is able to be level-headed and calm where I want to shout and throttle them both.

Thank goodness for Beefcake.

Tonight, when they dropped Poss off, Rhubarb chatted to his Father and made some arrangements to get together during the week.

All I can do is let it happen and hope that he does nothing to hurt Rhubarb or fuck it up.

If he lets my boy down again, I may just rip his balls off.

God, this NaBloPoMo thingy is beginning to get me down. I have been going okay. I mean, I only started blogging a month ago, so we’re not gonna get into post quality, but so far my brain has been spewing forth some notion or other for me to post about, every day, pretty much.

Today though, I have nothing coherent to write about.

I am still struggling to shake what has now been officially dubbed “The Great Flutastic Mucusplosion of 2008″ (TGFM’08). TGFM’08 started off like an ordinary cold, but seeing as how it chose to align itself with a bout of boob shattering mastitis, has since been upgraded to flu. In light of the fact that the rate of mucus production is not lessening and breathing without coughing is not becoming easier, one could surmise that TGFM’08 has morphed into some revoulting bacterial infections, however, due to the fact that, as the host of TGFM’08, I have a mild doctor phobia, I’ll be trying to lay low and hope it all goes away.

Pudding has been periodically stopping what he’s doing, positioning himself with feet up on a chair and saying “Aaah, what a lovely day”. I don’t know where he’s getting all the random joy and zest for life from, it’s a worry. The other worrying aspect of his bizarre little tableau, is that, while he’s ‘in character’, so to speak, he cannot be reached from the outside world. I have tried to discuss all manner of things with him, but it appears that, when he’s in joyzone, he hears us not.

There are mozzies. Lurking somewhere in our house. They come out at night and attack me. I haven’t seen them but I’m covered in bites. Me and only me.

Grub is too big for her basinette but we don’t have space to erect the cot in our room. She sleeps in our bed anyway but there is this period between about 7pm and midnight, where she will sleep in her basinette and I can have free hands. If I don’t get this time I fear my arms will fall off. Then I’ll have little stubby arm stubs and I’ll have to blog via pencil held in my mouth stabbing at the keys. So, that would be bad. I don’t want her to be in our bed without us there cos she’ll undoubtedly roll. Solution, yesterday we put the cot mattress on the floor, it’s all set up for her to sleep there when she’s having her evening sleep. I usually have the basinette in the lounge with me so I will miss being able to watch her as she sleeps but we have a monitor and she’ll be okay.

Poss keeps trying to bring milk cartons in from the recycling bin to make things with and thinks she can wear me down by asking about it every 90 seconds. She can’t. Why she thinks that I will relent and allow stanky, sour old milk cartons back into my house, I will never know. It’s not happening darling.

Can somebody please use their magic remote to fast forward to when Rhubarb does not know everything. He has recently taken to alternating between just arbitrarily disagreeing with everything that I say and being all sweetness and delightfully agreeable light. Hardly annoying at all, I don’t think I can do teenagers.

Ooh, speaking of teenagers, a while back Beefcake and I realised that from January, when Rhubarb turns 13, we will have at least one teenager until the year 2028. We planned that nicely, hey? I think we may have to institute a mandatory ‘move out on the day of your 18th birthday’ policy.

Last night after dinner Beefcake and I were so exhausted and just wanted five minutes of quiet. The kids were playing in the back yard. We shut the door and sat on the couch having a cuddle with Grub until their shrieking became too much. We’re terrible parents, but gee it was fantastic.

What would you do if your ex and his wife had decided that one child (Rhubarb) was bad to the bone? They have always treated him this way, even though it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

What if he had gotten to the point of not wanting to see them anymore (actually it’s been that way on and off for years), after years of being second best at their house (to Poss)? He’s old enough now to make that call isn’t he?

What if he finally stood up to their rule of not bringing any of his years and years of Christmas and birthday gifts home and brought all his gear home and now they are demanding he return them. They have a new child now and have informed him that they want to keep his presents for when she is older, so he can’t have them. OMFG.

What would you do if they were calling, wanting to talk ’strategies’ for ‘managing’ him but you see no problem? They have said and done things over the years that have hurt and damaged him. He has had enough. I’m tired of forcing him to spend time with them. I want to tell him he’s right. His Dad is a loser, who is a Dad when it suits him and doesn’t care to support them financially or emotionally most of the time. I know I have to try and ensure that they have a relationship, but I have been dong this for years. Trying to mend all the hurt and disappointment for my boy.

I know I have to deal with this, but I want to tell them to go away and leave him alone. I feel we’d be all so much better off if he would just go away, of course I don’t wish that for them but they have a Dad who lives with them. They both see Beefcake as their father, especially Rhubarb, who has been so let down over the years.

I want to tell my ex to go shove it up his arse. What would you do?

The other day, Rhubarb decided to make a cake after school (packet mix). It was dinner time by the time it was cool and so it remained uneaten and uniced while we made dinner (actually, Beefcake made dinner, I was stuck on the couch feeding Grub – hard life I know!).

Pudding mentioned a coupla times that he would like some cake and was told that, yes, we would have some after dinner.

Dinner time can be a little bit hectic at our house sometimes, which is why we didn’t notice and were shocked to find this:

Hmmmm, it appears that some of the cake is missing. I wonder where it went???

Pudding, in his p.j.’s munching on cake (photo reenactment by Pudding). Ah, I know it was a bit naughty but we had to laugh. He soooooooooo thinks he runs the house. Actually, it was good that we were all able to laugh as a preteen tanty from Rhubarb about his ruined cake would not have been my idea of fun.

Okay, so this is just gratuitous cuteness. The other day when our lounge room was empty as we waited for the new furniture, Pudding pulled his couch into the middle of the room to watch tv and Grub was sat next to him in her little seat. I just love how she put her little hand on is chair as though she’s reassuring herself that he’s there.

I think this must be an awkward age in girls, maybe not awkward, just very, very, girly.

Poss recently hit the magic double digits. We were actually a little bit concerned about her prior to this. She seemed all together too naive. Too interested in all things girly. A bit ditsy??? NOPE. It turns out that when you have a house full of ten-year-old girls it becomes evident that they are all like it. Surely I was not like this at ten??

I’ve been through ten with a boy and sure, he was annoying, smelly, whiny, all of that. Nothing like this though. Rhubarb is a thinker. He’s analytical, he’s a touch too dry and sarcastic, but that’s always been his way. He likes sci-fi and fantasy so he fits right on in with his two nerdy parental figures (here I point out that one is way more nerdy than the other). He’s just reasonably easy to get along with. He’s had his moments over the years but by ten – sorted, fine. He’s mostly a reasonable human being and I get along with him – mostly.

Poss though, gee. She’s very clever and she too has a good sense of humour. (She has a unique and unfortunate lack of empathy but we’re working on that and that’s just her really). It’s the girly stuff that gets me. When you see ten-year-old girls en masse it’s scary. The squeal. They giggle. They talk about oh so silly things. They dress each other in ridiculous outfits. I surely was never like this. Apart from being a touch annoying, oh my god I’m scared.

She’s becoming something. You can see it bubbling just below the surface. I mean, she’s always been a girl. She’s always liked pretty things and been sweet and just thoroughly different from Rhubarb. This is not just that. She’s developing a more adult sense of her femaleness. It’s in a childlike form. But it’s there. She’s growing up. *sniff* I’m scared about where this is going. She’s going to be there very soon. In the scary land of female puberty.

She told me just the other day that one of her school friends got her period. I tried not to react. I told her that was very early. I was secretly panicking. It will be a while before she has to go through that but CRAP. I’m way not ready for this. Despite, as I previously stated, being sure that I was never like this at ten. I do remember what I was like at 12
and 13
and 14.
OMFG. Kill me now.