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......

The Poo To-Do

It was early afternoon and I was happy in my work. Unsurprisingly I was in the kitchen and predictably I was baking. I wasn't just baking anything mind you, it was of course Chocolate Cake. I had decided that when the older children returned home from school they would be in the need of sustenance and the sustenance they required was in the lovely, moist, sticky, fabulous form of my their favourite cake.
     I was having a lovely time, measuring ingredients, pouring ingredients and chattering incessantly to myself. I had once again disappeared into my own little world. A delightful little world; all bubble-wrapped and rosy coloured. But, suddenly I came crashing back down to earth. I had realised something....something terrible. It was quiet.....very quiet....too quiet.

Before commencing my little baking/daydream foray I had set up Miss Tornado Two in her room and surrounded her with all the things she loves best; her dolls, her tea-set, her teddies. When I had ducked out of her room I had every intention of popping back into her room every 5 minutes or so to check on the little cherub. Unfortunately I had soon completely forgotten.
  
I really should know better. I am the Mother of four children after all and we Mother's all know that a silent child is certainly not an idle one.

So, I crept down the hallway apprehensively....terrified of what  I would discover in the little room at the end of the house. Relief flooded through me when I heard her little piping voice babbling away in her own special language. Hopefully she was happily playing a lovely little game with her dolls I reasoned.

Unfortunately that myth was dispelled the moment I entered her room.First I detected a slightly earthy smell. A discarded nappy lay on the floor in front of me. A short distance away lay an abandoned pair of pants. In the corner sat my beautiful and charming little girl...but she wasn't alone....she was surrounded by several long brown things...and she was playing with/in them!

The gorgeous darling looked up at me, smiled sweetly and said "Poopy"
'Yes darling,' I muttered weakly 'Poopy'
And so began the long and painful process of cleaning up the precious child...and the carpet...and her dollies...and everything else she had contaminated with her ummmmm, poo.

The Chocolate cake lay discarded, forgotten, rejected. For some reason I couldn't face eating it. I couldn't even look at it. Anyone care to hazard a guess why?

Chivalry is Dead

This morning I was at the supermarket.
'Oh no!' I hear you mutter "Not again!'......
Thank you for your concern but yes, I am okay.
Unfortunately all the other people who reside in my suburb are not quite as fortunate.
Apologies to all the people in aisles 2, 5 and 11 at 10am this morning....the child in question is not mine, I promise, I only "borrowed" her. Honestly.
       Anyways, I'm off the beaten track. As this title clearly states "Chivalry is Dead".
Now, I'm not a die-hard feminist and nor am I a submissive door-mat-type-person (in other words I'm a fence-sitter) But I am a woman and I expect to be treated like one, in other words like I'm the Queen of England people! Bowing, curtsying, calling me "Ma'am" and all that.....just kidding.
       I do like manners though and I expect them. A simple please, thank you or excuse me will sometimes suffice. Therefore, if you see me (30-something, tired, stressed, motherly) struggling with my daughter that "borrowed" child in the freezer section of the supermarket, running up my backside with your loaded trolley will not help.....in fact it will quite likely make me apocalyptic with rage. Not apologising afterward makes it more than likely you will experience the female equivalent of an erupting volcano.
    When the aforementioned "borrowed" child throws a punnet of strawberries on the ground, skirting around them with a "tsk, tsk" is not acceptable, it is much more chivalrous to offer the struggling Mother a hand.
    Vile language will certainly not be tolerated. Yes, I take a long time to load my items onto the checkout, that is because I have a two year old tornado helping me. She is helping me so she's distracted from screaming like a banshee because she wants the strategically placed sweets. If you like I can take even longer and I will, simply because you swore at me. Now, I'll turn and wish you a nice day and that's because I'm a nice, well mannered young woman.

Tee hee.....Rant over, I promise to be all sunshine and rose petals again tomorrow. xx

A Sweet Little Fairy......

This morning I was visited by a fairy. She was a cute, sweet little thing with her rosebud lips, soft, chubby cheeks and golden curls. Her eyes sparkled with innocence and just a hint of mischief. She wore a pink tutu, had sparkly wings and the obligatory fairy wand clutched firmly in her grasp.
      The fairy proceeded to do a fairy dance, with twirls, kicks and leaps. Her funny rotund tummy sticking out from underneath her T'shirt.

Then she approached me with a loving smile and babbled away in her cute, little fairy language.

It was then that the unthinkable happened....my gorgeous little fairy proceeded to beat me around the head with her sparkly fairy wand.

A sweet little fairy she ain't!

                                  

Toddler Terror

As the end of the week approaches it begins, I start to feel sick and worried and a feeling of dread settles into the pit of my stomach. On Thursday night it's worsened to the point that I have trouble sleeping and then I awake on Friday morning exhausted and dispirited.
I know it has to be done, just as it had to be done last week....and the week before...and the week before that.

It's the bane of Mother's of small children everywhere - the weekly trip to the supermarket.

Until recently I have quite enjoyed my trip down the hallowed aisles of Woolworths. I love food and I love cooking, so a trip to the supermarket has always been a bit of an adventure (sad, I know) the possibilities, the opportunities, oh, what fabulous items can I coerce into memorable meals for my family?
But lately my weekly sojourn into the wonderful world of food has been interrupted.....disturbed....destroyed...and all by a person about 2 and a half feet tall who has the personality of a whirlwind.

Unfortunately my terrible, oops sorry, terrific toddler hasn't inherited her Mother's love of buying foodstuffs.

It begins almost the instant we drive into the car park and continues until we drive out again 45 minutes later; screaming, yelling, kicking, pulling things off shelves, biting, hitting, crying.
Little old ladies "Tut, tut, tut", other Mother's hurry away and avert their eyes and silently hope that their little angel isn't silently taking notes. Mother's with like-minded toddlers nod and sigh.....they too know the pain.
The treats I pack get spat out, the toys I bring get thrown, my gentle banter to try and divert her attention - ignored.

A fake and painful smile is fixed on my face as I throw obscure items that I don't need into my trolley and try to make my escape as fast as humanely possible. The lady at the checkout sees me coming; a look of fear flits across her face before she too fixes a fake and painful smile on her face. I apologise profusely as I hold onto my struggling child and quickly load up my items.
A man behind me mutters about "giving that child a good slap" and my heart sinks down around my knees.

Suddenly the answer occurs to me, the solution, the light at the end of the tunnel, healer of hurts and up-lifter of moods. I cuddle my precious child, kiss her and then hand her a piece of chocolate.....ahhh, silence, what bliss.

To Sleep....perchance to Dream.

Until recently our darling Toddler has gone to bed at night without a hitch. Sure, she woke up continuously throughout the rest of the night but actually getting her to go to bed at the beginning was a doddle. This was always a call for much joy & celebration from the Man of the House and myself, we would happily plonk ourselves down on the couch for some much needed trashy TV and indulge. Last Tuesday was pretty much the same as usual, all kiddies in bed, house tidy (ish) and Hubby and I happily partaking in the latest rubbish on the box. That was until a little voice piped up from next to me "Mumma?". It was our darling Toddler. How on earth did she get out of her cot? I took her back down to bed, tucked her in and said goodnight. Five minutes later she was at my elbow again "Mumma?". The little monkey was escaping! That was it, once she had started with the Houdini act there was no stopping her, she came out continually until I finally stayed in the room with her and patted her.....for an hour and a half! Missed all my favourite shows and my downtime. Needless to say I was a very grumpy Mumma that night and even grumpier when Little Miss decided to join us at midnight in our bed and then proceeded to spend the rest of the night with her feet in my back. The next night was the same and now it's turned into what she thinks is a wonderful game. Unfortunately the pair of us are so sleep deprived that we are not much fun to be around at the moment. This equals much suffering for the Man of the House and the other three children who do sleep.

Sleep? Who me?

How to deal with this? If I could manage a coherent thought at the moment I'm sure I could deal with it sensibly and logically but I'm struggling to put two words together let alone deal with my escapee of a child! I think it may be time to move our little girl into a big girl bed.