The family fridge gets a make-over.

Defrosting the fridge is Fixit's job. Always. As is fitting a new door seal, although it is my job to order the door-seal from the internet.

(He said don't show a photo of me wearing that stupid Harley shirt, people will think I like them. He doesn't okay? He got the shirt free from his previous place of employment, and wears it only for doing chores.)



Mopping the floor after the fridge is defrosted is usually my job.
Fair's fair.
I'd rather mop than defrost.

Deciding to clean up and re-arrange the magnets was not so much a job as an exercise in fun for me.


Numeric and alphabetic order, if you don't mind.

I like a fridge full of magnets and photos. Especially those alphabet and number magnets, I couldn't wait to have children so we could get some.

Well, all right.

That's a slight exaggeration.

I'm a big fan of Judy Horacek's work. I also have some tea-towels and an apron by her.



We already owned these very cool penguin magnets and I quite enjoy finding them in different positions on the fridge following Cherub's sporadic magnet-play sessions.



The cat magnets were some retail-therapy in the wake of Bertie Wooster's continued disappearance.



They are no longer sitting in a neat line, though. They were dispersed around the fridge-face the instant Cherub discovered them.

I decided to put this photo of Cherub and my cousin into one of the magnetic frames during the course of the clean-up. No point to having a magnetic frame if you don't put a photo in it, hey?



By the time I got round to photographing my handiwork the Cherub had vetoed this decision. In his opinion it was no good, because you couldn't see all of the photo.



I do like that he took matters into his own hands though, rather than just whining to the management.



I also think his love of magnet re-arranging may have come directly from me. Can you spot the kitties now?

Meanwhile, the Fixit genes are strong with this one.

My Life as a Dot Point

• A neighbour got my hopes up by telling me he'd seen Bertie the missing Badcat mooching around the local school, but seeing as he waited a week to tell me this, and despite our going to the school every night and calling and rattling the food container, we still have no kitty.

• Getting my hopes up again and having them dashed a second time was pretty upsetting and I ended up crying in front of the children which is probably not a bad thing but made me feel slightly guilty nonetheless.

• Usually when I'm sad I get pet therapy from cuddling the cat and hearing him purr. My friends are all advising me to pat the Cherub instead.

• All the rain this week makes me worry about him in case he's stuck out in the elements, because he always used to come in absolutely outraged about the wet stuff from the sky that made him all wet! and would meow loudly and indignantly at us each time it happened.

• In happier news, my mother came to Melbourne for the weekend. In fact, on Sunday we saw both our mothers -*in one day*-! This is a very rare occurrence. It was of course lovely to see them and as a further benefit there is nothing like having both your mothers come to your house to make you clean up in the wake of Missing Badcat Depression. I'm sure neither of them expect me to do that, but I say whatever works.

• Climber and a friend entered a poster in a science competition. Climber was a ring-in because another child pulled out. The two boys did a great job and worked surprisingly really hard. The best thing was their loony sense of humour in the presentation which the judges commented favourably on.

• I have been helping out in Cherub's classroom with their concert preparation, which has been excellent fun. I have to cancel my Thursday night Tap Class this week so that I can go and be a stage-mother, I am that excited. Little preppies doing their first school concert, squee!

• We had a Trivia Night on Saturday night for our ex-creche, and Astrid and Elda and Pea Soup and Ulishoes came, plus some lovely creche pals. As ever, the night was a lot of fun despite the really awful pizza (bacon and barbecue sauce, bleah) and this was mostly due to the excellent company at our table.

• Fixit took money from my wallet before I left and didn't put the wallet back in my bag. This meant I turned up without a cent to my name and now owe Astrid $16 for the ticket and drinks to all of the above. But I'm good for it!

• Sadly, we only came third because the questions were kinda hard this year. Unlike last year when we only got one question wrong. The thing about our team is that we're quite good on the names of celebrity children but not so strong on random facts like what percentage of animal kingdom is comprised of insects [90%] or what Australian town was the birthplace of some Tour-de-France bikeracer [I forget]. And I don't want to be ungracious in defeat or anything but I strongly suspect a man wrote the questions this year, hmph. Not that I'm competitive or anything.

• We ended up winning a minor prize for correctly answering all the How Well Do You Know Your Creche Staff? questions. There was a fair bit of strategy utilised in taking out that title, including trading answers on the Guess the Celebrity Face sheet and offering Pea Soup's delectable home-made dark-chocolate-and-raspberry-fudge as a bribe.

• In the end I think I have to blame Nell for our not winning; she selfishly went to Goulburn to see her mother's exhibition opening instead of coming with us, and I feel sure we would have won if she'd come because the difference between us and the winners was a mere 31/2 points which Nell is totally good for.

In which I say Rest-in-Peace but hope I'm proved wrong

I feel slightly guilty to be constantly banging on about the missing badcat, but it's pretty much the main thing going on round here, in my mind at least. I had an enormous big private weep for him last night and maybe that helped a bit. Today I was at least and at last able to shrug off the inertia of my sadness and start to bring my house back into order. I swept and mopped the (disgusting from last night's Great Fridge Defrosting) floor today and this led me to the discovery of a couple of little catty toys (a jingle ball and his favourite, a pipe-cleaner) and then I looked down at the cat-food dish with the dried food in it (in case he arrived back when we were out) and I thought well, I may as well pack that up too. So, in the spirit of cleaning up, I want to commit to the record:

• That Bertie Wooster used to love Climber's football socks and used to steal them - and only them- out of Climber's sock draw and leave them in odd locations round the house. Occasionally we'd catch a glimpse of him carrying the enormous socks in his little cat mouth, with his I'm on a very-important-mission walk.
• That if we ever saw him having an absolutely ballistic play with something, it was probably a pipe-cleaner.
• That his favourite daytime sleeping haunt was on top of the boys' wardrobe, curled up on the sheepskin rug that I used to put the boys on when they were babies.
• That he and Cherub had this great game they never tired of playing where Cherub used to run around the backyard trailing a skipping rope and laughing his head off, whilst Bertie leapt at and pounced on and chased after and caught and then let go so he could start it all again.
• That he had worked out Cherub and Fixit only let him sleep with them if he stayed on TOP of the doona but if he slept with Climber or me he could snuggle under the doona, which is pretty smart when you factor in that Fixit and I share a bed.
• That really he preferred sleeping with Climber or me because he liked that under-the-doona option, and used to alternate every couple of days between us.
• That he knew Climber was for cuddles and Cherub was for mad-kitty berserk fun.

And that the 18 or so months that he had been with us was not nearly long enough, so we still really hope he comes back.



I haven't yet stopped jumping for phone calls and door-knocks but I suppose that will happen eventually. But maybe now I can shut up about it. You know, unless there's some good news. Thanks for listening and thanks for kind comments and thanks for sympathising. It has actually helped carry me through.

I got the Missing-Cat-&-My-Baby-Wants-a-Haircut Blues

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Adding to my gloom about the missing badcat is the fact that when I told the boys I had a haircut appointment booked for them, the Cherub announced that he no longer wants long hair. Because (a) he doesn't like it blowing in his face when it is windy and (b) he is sick of people that don't know him thinking he's a girl. Further conversation revealed that one or two boys in his class had been teasing him about looking like a girl. Although I don't think he looks like a girl, in my heart I knew this day would come. And of course I will respect his wishes, because I do see that that must be annoying for him.

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I'm sure all the grandparents will be relieved but Fixit and I are going to miss his cloud of hair and I assume we're going to get a shock every time we look at him for the next few weeks. All I can do is put my faith in our hairdresser, hoping that she can strike a balance between Boy and Cherub.

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When Do You Give Up Hope?

Bertie Wooster has been missing for nearly 6 nights . This is a very long time in the life of a cat who has never gone AWOL before. Being the hopeful Pollyanna type I just kept thinking he'd be back at any moment. Every time I left the house I would re-enter it expectantly, straining my ears to hear the padding of his little feet and a boisterous meow demanding food NOW! It has finally dawned on me if he could have come home, he would have by now. He's micro-chipped, he's desexed, so I just thought he'd either come back or that someone official would have called me. On Friday I put some notices up at the local shops, and tonight the whole family walked the nearby streets calling him. Tomorrow I'll call some vets and I think I'll do a letterbox drop asking our neighbours to check their sheds or garages for a little locked-in Burmese. I should probably have done this 3 days ago but I just thought he'd be home by now.

He's left such a gap. I miss his purry little presence in the bed at night as he snuggled down next to me, I miss his slightly grumpy presence of an evening as he lay in front of the heater getting so hot he became cranky and flicked his tale in an irritated manner before finally dragging himself up and re-settling on one of our laps. I even miss the really annoying way he would trip me up and deafen me in the kitchen whilst I cooked because he thought I ought to attend to his stomach before those of the humans.

The boys are okay so far, they're fleetingly sad if they think about it but it's only really tonight that the he might never come back scenario has been raised, rather bluntly, by Fixit-the-Pessimist. I suppose he had to do it, given that in my heart of hearts I really thought Bertie would return to us. I don't really know what to say to the boys, to be honest. I hate admitting to myself that we might never see him again, much less to them. I can't even bring myself to pack up the forlorn cat-food dishes, because that might make it real.

Looking Back

I missed the anniversary of my blog again! If I was my blog I'd consider breaking up with me.

When I started this blog 3 years ago, Cherub was a happy little 2 year old, still sleeping in a cot and just moving on from saying lots of words and little sentences to having proper conversations. Climber had just started school and was performing in his first school concert as well as doing his first ever school holiday program - soccer, it was. I only had the one Kiddy Tap Class and a couple of Grown-ups' ones and Fixit was still a Motorbike Mechanic.

One year in to this blogging malarkey and 6 year old Climber had been losing his baby teeth, performed in another school concert and done some more soccer clinics. Cherub was a 3yo, going to creche a couple of times a week but pretty much my constant companion, and a delightful one he was too. I'd started a second Kiddy Tap class, and Fixit was still on the Bikes, but wanting out.

Two years in and Bertie Wooster had joined the family (although he's currently been AWOL for 2 nights and we are missing him, send Go Home Vibes to him, won't you please), Cherub was a big 4 year old Kinder Kid who could ride a bike with trainer wheels, Climber was 7 and in Grade 2, learning to manage his distractability in class and playing soccer all winter instead of just in the holidays. My Tap School was growing nicely and Fixit had changed careers from the Bikes to the Planes, and at this stage it was not going too badly...

This year, Fixit is trying to steer his course through the disaster that is his aircraft apprenticeship and holding out for a transfer in the near future. Meanwhile my Tap School is doing pretty well and the Kiddy Classes are now my best earner instead of the little side project I started so that my boys could learn! My children are 5 and 8, in Prep and Grade 3 respectively, and this feels like the Golden Age! Nappies are a dim, distant memory, and when I look back on the days when they were both small I feel slightly staggered by how much work it used to be: all that cleaning and feeding and wiping and tending and lifting and carrying and soothing, all the live-long day. Someone should tell all those parents with young 'uns that it actually DOES get easier! It really does. Have I told you about how we can sleep-in on Sundays because the children can just look after themselves for a couple of hours? Or how if I need a lemon for dinner I can send one or both of the kids out to the lemon tree to get it for me? How Cherub will always put my pyjamas and slippers away if I ask him? How Climber took on listening to Cherub do his home reader in the car on the way to school because we forgot the night before and wrote the comment in the little book and everything? It's bloody great, I tells ya.





It was funny looking back to the past three July-posts. In one sense things haven't changed much: school concerts, trivia nights, school holidays -and school holiday programs & haircuts. Here it is July again and I am just recovering from the school holidays and about to belatedly get the boys' hair cut (having mucked up their usual school holiday appointment), I'm helping Cherub's class prepare for their first ever school concert, and casting about for people to join the team for the forthcoming Trivia Night, etc etc. But on the other hand, the boys have grown so much and come so far since the day I posted my first blog entry. The changes in them continue to astonish and delight me. Every time I wish I could bottle them now, right now! because they're so lovely, they grow and become even more wonderful. I'm very glad I started this blog, because in a way, I have bottled them.

Vive Blogging! Joyeux Bloggiversaire a moi!

Homework

This week saw Climber take his turn as the class "VIP". He got to sit on a beanbag during listening time instead of the hard old floor and was allowed to stand at the front of every line with a partner of his choice. In return he had to complete a couple of activities from the list of VIP options and fill in a double page all about himself in the VIP book.

Now, I'm pretty sure his teacher won't read this so I'm going to make a small admission here. I did a LOT of work on Climber's VIP week. When he said he wanted to do a magic trick I researched (to the tune of $9.95 for a book of magic tricks) an appropriate, fool-proof pick-a-card-any-card trick and then I made him practise and practise till it ran smoothly. I also organised a guest speaker for his class. (I have family in high places at the Melbourne Museum.)

You might be able to infer from this that I take homework seriously. (You should have seen me with the normal homework sheet from last fortnight, nag, nag, boss, boss.) Possibly too seriously, seeing as the success or otherwise of Climber's VIP week will have no bearing at all on his academic career. Still, once a girly swot, always a girly swot. And may I just say: VIP Student week my arse. It was bloody VIP Mother week here at Chez Fixit except I didn't get to sit in the beanbag.

Anyway, apart from the fact that his teacher was absent on his presentation day, I hear everything went smashingly well. My Aunt M was a wonderful guest speaker and impressively, she came bearing a stuffed platypus and a stuffed echidna for the kids to look at, which almost caused pile-ups in the corridor. (Are they real? they'd ask in passing and Aunt M said Yes but they're dead. Actually she might have said stuffed instead of dead.) The magic trick was also a success. He found 'the card' and managed his patter as well. (You see how much effort I put in here? Patter, I made him do patter.) I also organised the photos for his VIP book for him. Oh allright, and gave him a few suggestions as to the things he might include. I may have made spelling suggestions too. Climber did actually say to me (more than once) : Mum, this VIP thing doesn't have to be perfect you know. But that's just crazy talk.


Then, as if VIP week wasn't enough, Cherub got to take home the class toy for the weekend. Harry the Dirty Dog. Poor Cherub. He's been soooooo desperate to get Harry. In fact, last week he burst into the saddest tears twice, once in class with his adorable teacher and again as I picked him up, because for the third week running, another child got to take the toy dog. When I asked the teacher what her system of allocation was (alphabetical? age?) so I could prime Cherub on when he could expect his go, she looked at my tear-stained child and mouthed I think he might be SOON over the top of his head. So an ecstatic Cherub bounced out of class last Friday and Harry came to stay with us for the long weekend.



When Harry comes he brings with him the Dirty Dog Diaries but this was an easy homework challenge for a blogging Mum. We photographed him at the pool, in the bed, meeting Bertie Wooster and at tap class. I think it's made for a very good couple of pages for the Diary.

Only problem is, I've done all this fabulous work and I won't get any feedback for it. It's not even graded so I can't cross my fingers for an "A". And then I thought, wait. I know where I can put my homework for some feedback.

The Night We Felt the Earth Move

So the kids were in bed but not asleep, and Fixit and I were sitting on the loungeroom floor (old habits die hard I suppose - the new couch is perfectly comfortable) when the ground started shaking. Our brains could not make any sense of it. At all. We just sat there looking surprised for a few seconds. Vibrations, quite big ones, coming up through our floor.

Fixit at first accused the kids of rough-housing on the bunkbed, but really we knew it was a tremor. He's felt one before, years ago, but I never had. The only information that came into my completely freaked out brain was that everyone needed to stand under a door frame. So we did. I mean, the shaking had stopped by then but we still stood under the door-frames, just in case. As you do.

The kids were completely unnerved, and I think it was worse in the top bunk because Climber was fighting back a few frightened tears. We went out the front door to have a look. What were we expecting to see, crevices in the front yard? Everything was quiet and we were the only ones who came outside in our street.

The instinct in that situation is to reach out to others, so Fixit rang a friend who lives nearby, and his parents, and I came down to the computer where I watched Facebook and Twitter light up. Oddly comforting to hear about it from others.

Still haven't seen Bertie Wooster, who had been quite the psycho cat earlier that evening. Did he know? They say they do.

The kids were soothed and sent back to bed. It took a lot longer for my jumping nerves to calm. The thing is, I think, that here in Victoria, we're a little bit scared of Mother Nature right now.

Bertie Wooster - Action Kitteh

Pictures taken by my sister on the fancy camera.

I've just discovered LOLcatz. (I'm a bit behind). Unfortunately I am no good at funny captions.

Spur of the Moment Beach Holiday

I'm going to tell you the part about our homecoming first. I'm doing this because our homecoming was disgusting and annoying, and whilst it is obviously a good story which relates to our trip away, I don't want it to be the final flavour of this piece.

So here is the disgusting and annoying end to our tale:

When we returned home from our spur-of-the-moment beach holiday, we walked into our house, which had been closed up and baked in the historic three-day 43+degree Melbourne heatwave. As expected the air was thick and hot, and although it was nasty to walk into, we were able to congratulate ourselves for having escaped actually living in it during the heatwave. But as I walked from room to room, throwing open the windows to encourage inside the mild cool change that blew around the outside of the house, my nostrils were assailed by a Very Bad Smell. Worse, it came from our bedroom. So I did the only sane and rational thing in I could do in that situation; I went outside to tell Fixit that I was pretty sure that Bertie Wooster had left a dead bird in our room.

My nose had not lied to me, and even Iron-guts Fixit struggled with the clean-up. He was heard to voice his intention to kick Bertie Wooster all the way back to Seymour. The maggotty remains of the bird were writhing under our bed and the smell was just vile. One day, two incense sticks, a vacuum and some bicarb soda later and the smell is still not nice. Thank goodness one of our new couches has a fold-out bed in it!

Now for the good stuff. We got to escape the foul Melbourne heatwave!!

Fixit's work stood him down unexpectedly this week, due to him having too many extra hours to his credit. So I made a quick phone call to my aunt and uncle, and they very kindly gave us the use of their beach-house. And although Barwon Heads and surrounds was suffering from exactly the same heatwave as poor old Melbourne, it didn't matter!!! Heatwaves at beaches are fun! Too hot? Let's go swimming! Or lounge around in the cool house watching tennis! Or eat takeaway food! Or have an ice-cream! (Climber lost a tooth into an ice-cream cone, but didn't swallow it, luckily.) See? Fun. And Easy.



My friend Jenny loaned us a beach shelter and some blow-up boogie boards, which were a smash hit. The water was completely refreshing and I swam as much as anyone, in Just Bathers, didn't need a Wussy Wetsuit! And we saw a Real Dolphin, an actual wild dolphin!!! A guy told me that the locals call it Archie and that it has been swimming into the river beach at Barwon Heads and frolicking round with the swimming people for the last few weeks.
And we saw it!
I was beside myself with excitement, it's one of my wishes come true to see a dolphin in its natural habitat. Sadly, I didn't have my camera ready because I was in the water at the time.

Cherub mostly floated serenely on the boogie-board, preferably with a parent pulling him around with the leadrope -like a little pasha- or played in the sand, but he practised his floating when I told him to.



Climber tried sushi (fussy eaters can come good, Climber is living proof!) and wave-catching. He swam freestyle in the river, jumped through waves in the surf, dug forts in the sand, or ran around the beach playing his own private and intense fantasy games. He is just lovely to take on holiday.



We made Fixit drive us to the nearby beach at Queenscliff to show him how ace it was. Twice. (River beaches are okay, but surf is much more fun!)



Best of all, poor tired, stressed, overworked Mister Fixit-McCrankypants gradually relaxed back into the Fixit we know and missed.

Ya Ya Bishey.

How is this for a nasty bump? He rounded a corner too fast and clipped the edge of the door frame. I saw it happen and was not at all alarmed because he cried the right amount, if you know what I mean. Then a minute later I looked at him and there was the biggest, reddest egg on his hairline. Wasn't quite as calm then! But he was fine. This photo is taken a couple of days later.

In lieu of having a functioning long-term memory, I am once more recording some of Cherub's sweet talk. In case I want it for Ron. (Later Ron). The only stuff I remember about Climber's developing language is some early stuff that got written in a (very poorly kept) baby diary.
Thus I can tell you that one of Climber's first words was Dirty!!, said with a happy emphatic-ness as he pointed at the toilet or the rubbish bin; clearly we didn't want him to touch. He also said Whassat? (a lot) and the inscrutable Ya Ya Bishey. (Or sometimes Bishey Bishey Ya Ya.) Maybe it was something to do with ABC kids television logo, maybe it was to do with the Three Little Fishies song, we never worked it out. And let's not forget Dubba Dubba Dee which we think he just said because it is pleasurable to say. But the rest is lost in the mists of time and for that I say sorry, Climber.

Anyway, to talk like the Cherub (aged 4 and a half):

• Firstly, you must have a W where your R should be.
• Secondly, if you are feeling earnest about anything you must start your sentence with Well, especially if you are crying and reporting on what it was caused the crying in which case the Well, will usually be followed by Climber ... (did/said/pushed/shouted/stole).
• Thirdly you will get cross if anyone upterrupts you (pronounced cwoss and uptewwupts, see point 1).
• Finally, you will play fast and loose with the F and V sounds.

So this is a fan,

but this is Dark Vader.

He likes to watch a bideo. Berry much.

... and we took Bertie Wooster to see the Bet. She was lovely, although for some reason Bertie had a problem with her, something to do with where she put the thermometer I think..

Blogmeet

A blog-meet with a difference this week - a blog-visitor from overseas! A group of us met in a cafe in Federation Square and enjoyed a very pleasant brunch.

Seeing as it was Pea Soup organising there was an invitation to bring our knitting. So I did. Which felt pretty cheeky given my novice status; mixing it with clever knitters like this and this and this and this. Anyway I managed a few rows on my purple fluffy hat, and admired the far more complex work of the experts.

It was lovely to meet everyone - the chat was lively and the kids were cute. I had a rare indulgence - pancakes for brunch - and Sueeeus and I chuckled over an unexpected cultural difference : the serving of ice-cream with pancakes. We do it, Americans don't. Sueeeus is off now to meet some Sydney bloggers I asked her to kiss them on the cheek from me.

No photos taken as far as I know which is why I gave you my boys in a box instead. (Climber did ask me how to spell Bertie properly but clearly vagued out halfway through the process.)

Shula and I will be catching up Friday morning ...

Is magic real?

At school last Friday the Climber lost his other front tooth and is currently sporting the look we like to call the Toofless Tiger.
I think Climber and Crafty's boy monkey may have had a Tooth Fairy discussion recently. Suddenly her non-believer is enamoured of the coin under the pillow and Climber meanwhile starts in with is the Tooth Fairy real? because there's no such thing as magic, really, is there? Fortunately I was able to construct, hastily, a cogent argument based on the psychic connection between twins, which culminated in a resounding if that's not magic what is? Reassured, he decided that the Tooth Fairy should swim for this tooth and it was placed in a glass of water forthwith. Then, of course, conscience struck and he dictated the following note to be left out for her :

The Cherub said wistfully on the day after his first day, I really miss my kinder. Later that same morning he requested a daytime sleep. This was a surprise, because we recently lost his daytime sleep due to Christmas, heat-waves and school holidays. ( I know! A four-year-old still having a day sleep! Climber was the same, but don't be jealous; remember my kids are Very Fussy Eaters). When I looked askance at him, he explained that he wanted to dream about his kinder. I was a little bit overwhelmed by this huge kinder-love after only one day, but then I worked it out. The Cherub is mad for toy trains; indeed, the reason I never got any artwork from him is that he spent every possible inside moment at crèche crouched over the train track. At kinder there is a whole new set of tracks to fall in love with. With the added bonus of a really good large bit of floor so he can set up a decent sized track. No wonder he wanted to have a quiet little lie-down while he contemplated the glories awaiting him. I understand this. I'm a day-dreamer myself.

The house is being tackled bit by bit. The good news is that the boys' room is once more fit for human habitation, (not that it ever stopped me from making them sleep there, mind!), in fact better than that, it is spotless! It had got so bad it had assumed the proportions of Poe's Tell-tale Heart, because of all the Christmas presents and the spare mattress for the hot nights (the top bunk is too stifling) and the friends coming over and allright, yes, my general slackness. All I could think about was the terrible mess in there and I got to a stage of virtual paralysis with the other housework. Anyway, Bertie Wooster and I spent a day cleaning it up and I have to say that housework is much more fun when you have a pouncing kitty for company, but not necessarily faster. And although technically, the completion of this room should have meant I was free to get on with the rest of the house, I instead allowed myself to be distracted by a flying visit from my Mum, here to celebrate her little sister's 50th birthday.

What we have been up to:

Climber.

• Back at school. In the Senior building. But he's not a senior yet, don't rush me kid!! They couldn't fit all the Grade 2 classes in the Junior building. He says he likes his new teacher - another male teacher! - and that he's nice and doesn't shout.

• Enjoyed his party despite having no school friends and no Harry Potter theme. He started worrying that his party was not going to be up to scratch in the week beforehand which was making me feel awful, but as my friends so kindly reminded me, he had a perfectly good party despite its low-key-ness. And do you really need to organise a theme party when 3 boys can pick up twigs for wands and run the length of the park bellowing Expelliarmus and other spells in between diving for cover and hiding from any enemies?

Fixit.

• Has been told some really good news on the job front but we're still waiting on confirmation. Touch wood, cross fingers.

• Has booked holidays in a week's time to fix up the Yamaha for sale . So he can take me couch shopping.

Bertie.

• Practising his pouncing. All. The. Time. He is really rather good at it.
• Helps me blog.

Our socks.

• Living in fear of Bertie the Sock Slayer. They are not even safe in their drawers, much less lying vulnerably in piles of unsorted clean washing.

Cherub.

• Had his first ever swimming lesson. And got quietly anxious about it, which was so sweet. See, what he knows of swimming lessons is Climber in the big pool doing laps in the deep water. So at first he told me he was too little for swimming lessons. After I reassured him he'd be in the little pool and it would be fun, he was still slightly worried, but willing. Then on the morning of the class we had a discussion about goggles and whether he would like to borrow Climber's pair. To which he responded: I don't need any gobbles mummy, I'm not going under the water.

And he didn't. His teacher didn't push it. It's his first class after all.

He did have a really good time though.

Stomper.

• Back at tap. I'm so happy. I've missed the weekly dancing, the endorphins rush and the smiling faces of my students. (And just quietly, it is really good to be earning again!! Things got a bit tight towards the end of January...) And the boards have been a big hit! Especially the stars.
• Forgot to bring a knife to Climber's birthday party. Luckily Nell is a dab-hand with a toothpick.