up with the roosters

It is only 9 am and I feel like I'm ready for lunch, I've been up that long! OK, maybe not lunch, but I'm already on my second cup of caffeine and could use another. OMG why oh why does Mr. Man think it's OK to rise before the roosters?

The last few mornings he's been waking up at 5:40, this morning it was 5:20. As said in Planes Trains & Automobiles "you're going the wrong the way"!! After a quick Google search I am nowhere ahead, according to the websites in the know, I'm either putting him to bed too early or too late. Hmmmm, thanks for that. Perhaps parenting by Google isn't the best approach.

At least he amuses himself in his room for a little while before barging into my room advising me it's time to wake up. My favourite though is when he comes in to tell me that he's going to play in his room. Um, thanks, I think.

As with all things, pleasant and unpleasant, this is just a phase and soon he will be back to waking at his regular time, 6:30. Not great, but much better than 5:30.

Until then, there's not much hope for coherent thoughts, so if the posts don't make much sense, stay up all night, then read them and they'll seem perfectly fine.

Australia Day came crashing down to a bitter end this year when Mr. Man decided that it was OK to bite down, hard, on Little Miss' hand. And I mean hard...No blood, but imprints that lasted for a very long time.

Really, this should not come as a surprise to me though. All my life I've been reminded of the time, when, as a mere 1 year old (with a full set of teeth apparently), I chomped down so hard on my big brother's stomach I drew blood--through 2 layers of clothing. In my defence, we come from a stereotypically dysfunctional family, wherein such behaviour is expected--or something like that.

Does that mean that my darling son and daughter are living in a dysfunctional home? Or maybe, it's just a phase. Don't all kids go through a biting phase? It was only just the once. And in his defence, he was hungry and her fingers sure do look tasty ;-)

Look who's dishing out the attitude

Little Mr. Man is not even 3 years old, yet has the attitude of a 15 year old.

After calling him to the dinner table tonight, his response was "I can't hear you".

"I can't hear you"?!!! Are you kidding me? How does a not-even-three-year-old learn to dish out that kind of attitude? And this is from the boy child; can't wait to hear what the girl child will be coming out with once she learns to talk. T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

Pretty soon I'll ask him to clean up his toys and he'll say "I'm sorry, I'm not in right now, please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Beep." or better still "I'm sorry I'm going into a tunnel and loosing the connection. Crackle. Crackle. Crackle."

Little Miss is on the move

For the last few weeks Little Miss has been showing off her yoga skills: downward dog, table, plank, etc as well as showing off her gracefulness in getting from these positions back to sitting. She’s been working on her bum shuffle and arm reaching to get at things just out of reach. Over the last few days all of this has come together and she is now officially crawling. It appears that she is going to skip over commando crawling (gets too dirty) and go straight for proper hands & knees crawling. Let’s hope this satisfies her desire to move. I’m not ready for two walkers under 3!

Ah summer...

For some summer is the season of choice. For others, like myself, it brings on the dread of having to go to the beach and be seen with not enough clothes on.

Over the years I have been been able to get out of going to the beach without much hassle, however, now that we live in Australia (without air conditioning) and have 2 kids, the beach and summer are synonymous and not going is simply not an option. And in fact this is a good thing. I am learning, slowly, that unless you look like a model, people are really not paying you much attention. I have also learned that if you want a stress-free day, with none or limited outbursts from your 2.5 year old, the beach is the place to be.

Turns out, Little Mr. Man is happiest covered in sand, with a salty breeze blowing on him, and waves crashing onto the shore. Just hope that there's no seaweed on said shore. Or in the water. And if there is, be prepared for screams and howls. Thankfully, the freak-outs are short lived. There's not much the promise of ice cream can't cure. And so, summer is slowly becoming my season of choice...