Friday, March 13, 2009

ivy goes postal, teddy goes commando and daddy takes to the bush

I read yesterday a theory that society is only nine meals away from collapse.

In our house, it's only about three. Washing-up, laundry and general clutter grow with the sneaky force of a triffid. I'm afraid that behind my back, Ivy and Teddy morph into Kali, the 8-armed Indian goddess, flinging beans, toys and body fluids into every corner. If anything messes with the constant motion of clearing, creating and managing, the whole machine starts to fall apart.

We had a blackout this week, losing power on the water pump and the toilet fan. I raced to get glad-wrap over the toilet seat, but it didn't take long before the house started smelling like an Istanbul truck-stop. The kids were covered in beetroot and yogurt. Ivy chose that afternoon to wage a wee-war; gleefully turning her concealed weapon on the couch cushions (and then, as they aired on the deck, on the base of the couch), on the floor, and on the rug. She would only answer to 'Jeff" and as I tried to rock Teddy to sleep, stamped in and out of the room demanding Wiggles songs. When I hissed ''Ívy! Quiet! It's Teddys sleeping time!' she stated, matter-of-fact: 'Ívy will cry. Mummy will tuggle. Then Ivy will be alright and go on the trampoline.'

That was when I realised I'd lost all control of this little pantomime.

Still, as I write, warm and cosy in Nanna and Pops lounge-room, Keith, Ivy, our friend Tristan and his 2-year old Talia are on a camping trip in the National Park, and the rain has started to fall. Not just sprinkle: it's settling in to a comfortable, heavy, tank-filling downpour that will make a night in the tent... lets just say 'ínteresting'. Tristans attention to detail is remarkable. His backpack is full of little bags of separate goodies, and he even invented a nappy system using paper towels. Keith's more of a 'fly-by-the-seat-of-your-boardies' kind of camper. May the best dad win. Full report later - I'll try and get Keith to write it.

Dad hasn't been well. We're spending the weekend here to have some Pop-time. Teddy is beside himself at all the attention. He's happy sitting in a basket, pulling the dogs hair and demonstrating his new caterpillar-crawl.

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Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.