A Day In The Life Of Miss Tornado Two....

Hmmmmm...what to do today?

The best place to sleep at night is Mum and Dad's bed. I get all cosy and comfy in my favourite position - my feet on my Mum's face, my head nestled into Dad's armpit.

The sun barely touches the sky and I'm up....full of spark and pizazz and ready for my day.

Of course, I can't start creating havoc on all and sundry without my daily Milo fix. Milo is my favourite thing in the whole world....apart from chocolate....and perhaps ice-cream. I figure if I ask for it incessantly Mum will have to give it to me. But she's stubborn, my Mum, so I only get it in the morning.

'Milo-Milo-Milo-Milo-Milo-Milo-Milo' I demand, until it's delivered into my hot little hands.

Slurp, slurp, guzzle.

Now....what do I do after Milo? Oh, that's right....create havoc.

First I'll knock over my brother's carefully constructed mobilo tower....I'm sure he won't mind, he only spent an hour creating it.
Now, my sister has the her dolls house looking lovely....I still think it needs some rearranging.....I'll throw some Barbies and furniture around...ahhhh, that's much better.

Mum's asking me to come and get dressed. I know that if I ignore her long enough a funny thing happens and steam starts to come out of her ears. I think I'll wait and see if she does it again....it always amuses me.

I've fed my breakfast to the dog, done a wee on the carpet, refused to wear anything but my best party dress, squeezed a tube of toothpaste down the sink, drawn a lovely picture on the coffee table and emptied a container of rice on the floor. Quite a productive morning I think.

Time to take the big kids to school. I know Mum loves it when I run away from her in the car park, in the school grounds, in my brother's classroom and back in the car park on the way out again. She especially loves it when I make a mad dash right toward the busy road. I can tell she thinks it's great because her face goes a lovely bright red colour and she says alot of funny words. I think one of them rhymes with 'Truck'.

The middle of the day is one of my favourites. Mum sets some paint up and tells me that I've painted lots of beautiful colours. While Mum is busy hanging up my painting I quickly paint one of her brand, new outdoor cushions a lovely orange colour. I think she'll really like it.

Dog food tastes nice. Just saying.

We dance with maracas, until I whack Mum over the head with one.

Mum sets me up to play with my tea set while she hangs out the washing. I start to think that my 'tea' will be much nicer with some real sugar in it. I climb the shelves in the pantry, grab the sugar bowl, I then proceed to dump the whole bowl of sugar into the tea cup. Ohhhh Yuuuum! It tastes so good. Here comes Mum, I bet she'll like a taste too.

Steam is coming out of Mum's ears again. Hehe!

School pick up time. Yaaaay! I can play chase with Mum a bit more!

Scribble looks great on my big sister's homework.

Cereal is really something best eaten off the floor.

I really love to wash my hands....again and again and again. I like it even more if I pump the entire contents of the soap dispenser into my hands first, then I can have a bubble party!

I won't get in to the bath, you can't make me....................................................I won't get out of the bath, you can't make me.

I will not eat anything but ham for dinner. Just so you know.

I WILL NOT BRUSH MY TEETH. Not even if you try to pry my lips apart. I will scream and yell and cry all with my mouth firmly clamped shut.

Sleep is for wimps. I don't need sleep......I don't want sleep......Only babies go to sleep.

I......
Am.....
Not......
Tired.....




Mum, Mum, come here, I forgot to tell you something......

I.......Wuv.......You......

To Sleep...Perchance to Dream.

I'm sitting at my desk with the best intentions in the world. I want to write, no, I need to write, yet some sort of external force is preventing me from writing the post I had in mind for today. This 'force' as I shall call her has decided that the five minute cat nap she had in the car today counts as sleep and therefore she no longer needs any tonight......which kind of sucks, want to know why? Because I had actually planned on sleeping. You know that thing you do when you close your eyes and actually rest? Yeah, that one.

At the moment sleep is elusive. I desire it, I need it, yet it is always slightly out of reach. Something or someone always interrupts it. Usually one of the kids needing the toilet, a drink, a hug. There are Bogey men to chase, wet beds to change, illness to deal with. It also doesn't help that Miss 2  has now joined us in bed of a night. I know, I know, rod for my own back and all that....but I'm just too damn tired to do anything about it.

Then there is Hubby. Hubby has a tendency to want to grope at night time. He would happily sleep with his big, hairy body wrapped around my significantly smaller and rather more hairless version. Trouble is that it's kind of hard to exhale (or inhale for that matter) with the great lummox on top of me. 'Would you move!' I growl as best I can when having difficulty breathing. So, he grumps off to his side of the bed and then proceeds to fall asleep and snore.....loudly. I'm sure that it's his way of seeking revenge.

Even when they are all sleeping soundly it seems that I am not. I toss and turn. I think endlessly. I hear strange noises and imagine all sorts of things. The clock ticks pathetically in my ear. 'Sleep dammit, just sleep!' I tell myself, although it seems that it's not only Hubby and the children who don't listen to me...... I don't even listen to myself.

At some ridiculous hour I finally nod off, only to be awoken by an affectionate lick from the dog, waking me to take him on his morning run......so sleep is forsaken for another night.

But tonight I have other plans......

While I have been writing things have brightened, I am sipping relaxing chamomile tea given by a friend. Miss 2 has finally dozed off on my lap (Hallelujah!) Hubby is still at work. A few chapters of a good book are awaiting me. There is hope for me yet.

So sleep, my elusive friend, tonight I am seeking you. Please, please, please co-operate and let me partake in some much needed and wanted rest. Thank you!

Sick of Sickness

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By the time Spring dances along, flicking her sunshiny hair and flipping her pretty floral skirts; you kind of expect that illness is done and dusted for the year. With the warmer weather finally approaching I began to anticipate months of outdoors, sunshine and good health....and then it happened....the family was once again king hit by the flu.

This morning when we awoke to start another week, two of our members were out for the count, comatose, immobile.

Now, certain people in this household react in different ways to illness....as you would well expect......

Hubby, of course, suffers as only a male could possibly suffer. The world is ending. There is disaster and impending doom. No one in the history of mankind has ever been so sick before. He is dying.... do you think you should ring the doctor....or an ambulance? If he has to do anything that requires any sort of effort it is with an air of martyrdom.

When Mr 11 is sick he is properly sick. He will lie in bed all day and barely move. Occasionally he will have a little cry or just need a hug but otherwise he will sleep and read like all good sick children should.

Miss 8 moans. She whinges and demands. She needs a cup of tea, a glass of lemonade, a sandwich. "Mum, I feel like soup' she'll cry. "Mum, I need a tissue', 'Mum I want an apple' It seems that being sick also temporarily removes her ability to use her manners.

Mr 5 is amazingly stoic while unwell. He will occasionally tell me his head hurts and will have a bit of a lie down, but other than that he will be a quieter version of his normal self. He still wants me to play endless games with him so it doesn't dampen his spirits in the slightest.

Miss 2 remains at her tornado best despite whatever illness is handed out to her. She'll continue to create mayhem and ransack the house even with raging temps and a rotten headache.  When sick she is still a spirited and busy toddler....just an unbelievably snotty one.

I don't do sick. And when I do occasionally fall prey to the dreaded lurgy I do so badly. So if you cop a whinge from me when unwell I apologise....I don't have time to be sick.

As you could probably predict the two members of the household who were run down by this calamity were quite possibly the two who are the worst to have stuck at home all day demanding things (Hubby and Miss 8)  All I hope is for a speedy recovery so I can regain my sanity. And most of all face masks for the rest of us so we don't catch it too!

The Too Hard Basket

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There are days when things just become too difficult. Days when I feel like climbing back into bed, pulling my blankets over my head and wishing that I could go back to sleep. Days where I wished that I had a 'Too Hard' basket and I could just dump the offending day in there.....
'Damn you Friday! In the 'Too Hard' basket you go!'

This morning I awoke early.....too early, to find a small person breathing very loudly in my ear. 'Mum' he loudly whispered, 'Mum, will you get up and play cars with me?'

No, no I won't get up and play bloody cars with you. It is five fifteen in the morning...I want to sleep damn you...I want to sleep!

Of course I didn't actually say this, I sort of muttered 'In a minute darling, go and wait for Mummy in the lounge room' and then promptly fell back asleep. Only to wake up at quarter to seven and completely freak out because the latest I can sleep in with out being ridiculously late is quarter past six.

Then, understandably Mr 5 (the early riser) was miffed. Quite possibly because I had kept him waiting in the lounge for an hour and a half to play cars.

Mr 5 in a good mood is delightful. Mr 5 in a bad mood is, quite frankly, scary.

So, he grumped through breakfast, grumped through getting dressed, grumped through teeth, hair and packing bags, grumped through tidying his room and grumped his way out to the car.

'Sorry,' I kept saying, 'I'm really sorry, we'll play cars this afternoon...I promise' I kissed, cuddled and tried to mollify him while I searched in the voracious depths that is my bag for my car keys........

Snotty tissue from Miss 2.....ick.......squashed sultanas stuck to my purse.....yuck......soggy bit of biscuit.....ugh......lip gloss minus the lid, sticky contents everywhere....sigh.....but, you guessed it, no keys.

'Darling, have you seen my keys!' I bellow....waking up any nice, normal neighbours that may be sleeping at that hour (who hadn't already been woken by Mr 5's grumping)

Of course he hadn't.

So then we all scour the house trying to find the damn things. I dump the contents of my filthy hand bag on the dining table...no keys. We check kids bags, counter tops, kitchen draws, under beds, beneath couch cushions and in every little nook and cranny imaginable...no keys.

By this stage we irrecoverably and incredibly late. It takes twenty minutes in peak hour traffic to get my children to school and today was the one day that we needed to be there early for dance rehearsals.

I end up leaving my poor husband with my key less car and 'borrowing' his.

Once the children had been safely deposited at school I flew home so Hubby could actually go to work. He had spent the time I had been gone searching for lost keys and when I had arrived home had still had no joy.

I walked in and noticed Miss Two's tea set sitting on a step. On a whim I picked up a little pot and lifted the lid....there were my keys.

Hubby and I clutched each other laughing at our own stupidity........'So,' I said cheerfully....'Can I go back to bed now?'

My Mumma Business Card.

Hubby often comes home with his pockets full of a plethora of business cards. I get to peruse these on a regular basis as I usually have to empty them out before they go through the wash and ruin yet another load of washing.

Most of these cards have fairly standard job descriptions; like Dental Surgeon or Solicitor or Plumber. Others are a little more interesting. For instance I recently came across one that said 'Sandwich Artist', there has also been a 'Brain Trainer' (read; Hypnotist) and also one that called themselves a 'Refuse Collection Operative'.....in other words a Garbage Collector.

So, it got me thinking (never a good thing as we all know) about what my job description would be. If I had to come up with a fancy pants business card what would I call myself?

I started with writing a list of all my individual 'jobs' and decided to go from there.

Administrator of Sympathy - eg; Kisses, Cuddles and Kind Words.

Director of Routine - Get up, make your bed, have breakfast, clean your teeth, get dressed, brush your hair..etc...etc.

Nutrition Management - Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner and all those little snackies in between. Coercing children into eating their greens. Talent at hiding vegetables in pasta sauces. Creative-on your toes-meal artist.

Negotiator of Conflict - 'You've hurt your brother, now say sorry', 'I don't care who had it first', 'No you can't have a chocolate before dinner'

Hygiene Specialist-  'Stop picking your nose', 'Wash you hands after the loo', 'Dirt is not a food group', 'Letting the dog lick your face is disgusting!' Must be able to toilet train small people. Supervision in the bath is a must.

Dental Technician - Supervising the teeth cleaning process. Some members of the family simply like to lick the toothpaste off the toothbrush. Or if you're Miss 8, run the tap and make scrubbing noises without actually putting the toothbrush in your mouth (not realising Mum is watching from the doorway)

Hair Stylist - Gel spikes for the boys, ponytails and braids for the girls. Requires a certain amount of speed and dexterity.

Teacher - Homework, homework and a bit more homework. The joy of school children.

Psychic-  Able to read minds of children and predict what they will need/want next.

Domestic Engineer - I really don't need to explain this one...but I will. Mess...everywhere. Constant vacuuming, dusting, mopping, toilet cleaning (Ugh - boys and toilets...need I say more?) washing (wash, hang out, bring in, fold, put away) Scraping food off surfaces, dishes, making of beds, falling over toys....the list goes on and on.

Safety Expert - Jumping out of the bath onto the tiles is not safe (the cause of Mr 5's latest bump) nor is; scaling the screen door, riding a skateboard down our very steep driveway, pushing your little sister off Mum & Dad's bed, Wrestling on the coffee table, Eating dog food or throwing a matchbox car at your brothers head.

Imagination Stimulator - Creating ideas for games, providing paints, crayons, textas and paper. Encouraging the wacky, crazy and zany. 'Yes, let's pretend to fly to the moon in a spaceship made of egg cartons'

Medical Specialist- dealing with scrapes, bruises, grazes, cuts, scratches, puke, poo, fevers, snot, blood. A calm head is always required.

Chauffeur- School, Shops, Sport, Friends...be prepared to spend half your life in a car.

Governor of Chaos - Exceptional organisation skills. Able to do limitless things all at the same time. Be prepared to survive on minimal sleep and copious amounts of coffee and tea. Must be aware of the idiosyncrasies of each child and react accordingly.

So, there you have it. I may have left a few things out, but I think that will do for now.
Admittedly it may be a little difficult to fit this all onto a business card....I probably need a business brochure or a business essay to do the job.

But then I thought of the perfect job title.......one that fits all of my roles perfectly............

                             Carlene......

                 Mother to;

               Mr 11

                 Miss 8

                   Mr 5

                Miss 2

I think that suits me perfectly....don't you?

If you had to create your own business card, what would it say?

Incentive for Toddlers.......

Ahhhh....bribery....Oops, I mean incentive.
image credit

Today, as I trooped through the supermarket with Miss Tornado Two in tow. I found myself (when not stressed out of my brain trying to stop the little darling from casing the joint) contemplating the difference between shopping with baby #4 to shopping when the first two babies were small.

Now, I'm not saying the first two were perfectly behaved. They weren't. But maybe I handled them better. Maybe I still viewed the weekly shop with optimism rather than stone, cold dread. I just seemed to get through with my sanity intact and a much calmer demeanour. Nowadays I leave the place sweating and silently cursing the sweet faced child before me.

With child #1, I would pack a little lunchbox filled with organic snacks for my cherub to munch on. My distraction methods seemed to work, she seemed genuinely interested in where eggs come from and how milk is made. Miss TT however, couldn't give two hoots. She wonders what the milk would look like all over the floor. What happens when you throw a carton of eggs in the trolley? 'I helping Mumma' she says as she pulls a glass container of coffee off the shelf.

When strapped into the trolley where all  good toddlers  in supermarkets should be, she kicks and screams 'I get out! she hollers 'I get out!'

So I do it....I reach into my handbag and I pull out the old standby, the fail-proof, the reliable.....my good friend the lollipop.

With my older children I wouldn't have dreamt of it. They would munch away on their sugar-free, organic rice crackers with gusto. Miss TT takes one look at 'rabbit food' and lets her distaste be made abundantly clear to anyone in the vicinity.

Some may call it bribery....I prefer incentive....incentive to sit down, be quiet, and let your poor Mother do the shopping in peace.

Meet My Monsters!

Mr Endearing Eleven -

Sensitive, Responsible, Super-Smart, Math-Whiz, Caring, Loving, Tidy, Insightful

Miss Enthusiastic Eight-

Busy, Silly, Excitable, Talkative, Book-Mad, Cuddly, Humorous, Messy, Joyful

Mr Funny Five-

Kind-Hearted, Snuggle-Bum, Funny, Grumpy, Organised, Sweet, Perceptive, Tender

Miss Tornado Two-

Mischievous, Cheeky, Lovely, Trouble, Sparky, Determined, Quick, Hilarious, Social

Caught Out!

Today I was caught out....discovered......dobbed in.......and all by a two year old.
You see, I have a system. A secret plan. One that only two people were privy to. Me and Miss Tornado Two had an understanding, an agreement if you will.

Every time Little Miss deposited something 'unsavoury' in her nappy we would put our little plan into action.

She would come up to me, point to her nappy and say 'Poopy'.
'That's lovely darling' I would whisper conspirationally, 'Now go and tell Dadda'
Off she would waddle with a significant 'bulge' around her bottom to find the unsuspecting 'Dadda'.

And Hubby, with no clue whatsoever about being set up, would change our beloved toddler's nappy.

It has always been unfortunate that Miss Tornado Two does the most vile poos imaginable. Considering her diet consists of strawberries, yogurt, peas and cheese, the stuff emanating from her bottom is, to put it mildly, freaking disgusting.

So, I would always feel (slightly) guilty whenever Hubby was 'lumped' with bum clean up duty....for about a minute anyway.

Hubby could never quite fathom that whenever he was home he seemed to change an inordinate amount of poop.

Until....my plan fell flat on it's face...and all thanks to my partner in crime.

Little Miss had just produced yet another enormous and incredibly stinky offering, and as per usual I had sounded her out to go and find her poor, long suffering Father.
I stood around the corner so I hear Hubby's curses and mutterings as he tackled the diabolical thing and I could giggle accordingly (sadistic, I know)

Then it all backfired.

'Dadda' piped that sweet and innocent little voice 'Mumma said change poopy'.

'Mumma said!' What's with the 'Mumma said?!'

Dadda, whoops I mean Hubby, was not impressed. "Mumma said did she!' I could hear him bellow. He rounded the corner to find me red-faced, ashamed and nearly doubled over with laughter.

So, I ended up changing the damn thing. And there is only one way to describe that experience.....Absolutely repulsive.

Miss Terrific Two

Something unusual is happening with my busy, funny and mayhem-causing Miss Tornado Two. Usually I spend my days running after the little monster as she terrorizes all and sundry with her enthusiasm, verve and sheer determination.

She's famous for her tantrums, renowned for her stubbornness and notorious for striking fear into the hearts of supermarket employees in every suburb in the vicinity.

But, all of a sudden she's doing something I never thought I would see - well not until she was well into her twenties anyway...... She's actually behaving in a manner that makes it tolerable to take the little angel out in public without me dying of embarrassment at her shenanigans.Without me even having to resort to bribery involving chocolate and about a zillion hours of torture watching Dora The Explorer.

For example; Today we went to the supermarket - I know, scary isn't it? And get this....we escaped unscathed. You heard me right.....unscathed. I was calm and relaxed and so was Miss Tornado Two. We chatted amicably as I pushed her around in the trolley (which, yes, she did stay seated in for most of the trip) There was no screaming to get out, no demanding of packaged goods, no alarming of other shoppers. It was a trip completely free of disapproving stares and unwanted advice regarding my child and a swift kick up the backside.

People stopped only to comment on the general cuteness of my offspring and how well-behaved she was........... It was a revelation.
Yes, I nodded happily, she is a good little girl. And she is very cute. I know, I know, those cheeks are adorable, and yes, I am a very lucky Mummy.

I couldn't believe it. It was amazing, mind-blowing...... and really, really weird.

Miss Tornado Two started her 'terrible two's' early. In fact, she pretty much started them not long after her first birthday. One minute she was an adorable little baby and next she was a screaming, yelling little monster that even the dog was terrified of.

I had pretty much resigned myself to years and years of this torture. Of all four children Little Miss seemed destined to be my main mischief....my trouble maker.

But lately she has become a sweet, little girl - still tending to have the occasional meltdown, she is two after all - but generally she's been all goodness, light & fluffiness.

So, now I'll have to change her moniker. Miss Tornado Two doesn't seem apt at the moment. Maybe Miss Terrific Two or Miss Tremendous Two? Either way my little girl seems to be growing up.....and in the nicest possible way.

Strawberries & Sunshine

This week I'm grateful for.............

Little Miss Tornado Two has had a rough week. Temperatures, Runny nose, A nasty cough, Whinging, Whining and the yuckiest poos I have ever,ever seen.

She hasn't eaten properly in days. She has barely had the energy to play. As much as I complain about her vivacious and sparky nature, I really missed her usual exuberance.

This morning, however, she's back. Cheeky, naughty, funny. This morning she sat in the sunshine and had the first real thing to eat in days........strawberries. Sweet, juicy, yummy (expensive) strawberries. I rejoiced.

So today I'm grateful for Strawberries & Sunshine.......if only those explosion poos would stop I could write a post about that too.

To check out some other lovely grateful posts head over to Maxabella Loves.....