This is a photo of our old, very narrow, constantly flooded and covered in rubble front path.

It’s one of the things that has constantly bugged me about this house. When ever I pull up on the drive way a little sigh escapes me as I contemplate herding my gaggle of unruly children into the house. Especially as I am often encumbered by numerous beloved creations and an over tired baby meaning I don’t have a free hand to catch the child that inevitably looses their footing and crashes down on the battered pavement.

But no longer HA HA I have conquered the front of house menace!!! I HAVE THE POWER!!!

We raised the level to the bottom step and put in a lot of drainage gravel. Luckily it poured with rain the whole time we were working on it so we got to test our flood prevention theories as we worked, hmm.

The pavers were imitation coble stones stuck onto a backing mat so they are easier to lay.

Easier is always fine by me (Shhh don’t tell Dad) They were also clearance stock at Bunning’s and way cheaper than anything else we looked at. Don’t ya just love a bargain.

Home schooling at its most hands on. The kids had been so fascinated watching the professionals laying pavers next door so I had to let them give it a try. In fact they had a go at every stage in the whole process, so we can blame then if the end product is dodgy.

Lilly tripping up the stairs, sometimes there’s just no helping that girl.

The finished path. So far it doesn’t flood and is wide enough for as to all get around, I don’t think there’s a path in the world Lilly wouldn’t fall over on though.

To make the curve I cut the backing mat and fanned out the cobbles. Now all I have to do is figure out what to do with the left over mountain of sand and gravel we have on the driveway, apparently our estimation skills need a little work.

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As if my week wasn’t bad enough, this is Sabrina with a hole in her head.

The worst part was it happened in my room while she was in my care. Hello guilty feelings welcome to my stomach. I hadn’t been feeling the best, hey maybe it’s stress ya think,  so I rang Glenn and asked him if he could bring dinner home. As my head was spinning I took my self off to bed thinking I would be more likely to recover faster if I gave my body a break. I was going to leave Sabi with the others as they were all being so cute snuggled up watching a movie together but I thought, no that’s way too dangerous now that she has figured out how to open all the cupboards, climb up on the computer desk and abseil down the book shelf. No, I thought I’ll set her up with some toys on the floor in my room WERE SHE’LL BE SAFE.

I thought I was so clever right up until she walked into the wall. That was it, no running involved she simply walked forward, tripped and didn’t stick her hands out.  It’s not even like she had the courtesy to make it a decent object lesson, I can’t very well say to the other kids “Look at your sister, That’s what WALKING in the house’ll get ya!”

I knew it was bad before I got to her due to the almighty thwack noise her head made when it met the corner of our not yet finished built in wardrobe wall. That and the blood curdling scream that followed which according to the hospital is good. It’s the first thing they ask “Did she cry?” and you answer “Yes” then they say “that’s good” Yeah great I always love a bawling baby.

I’m getting pretty good at dealing with gaping open wounds as Lilly falls over so often we’ve all re named her Lilly Splat on the Floor. So when the blood was still oozing out like a bubbling lava flow after soaking through half a box of tissues I knew we needed to seek medical attention. I called in the troops and in less than ten minutes Mum and Dad had arrived to look after the other kids (And Yes I know how lucky I am to have them so close) Glenn followed soon after so he was able to hunt for a medical professional with me.

WE thought we’d be able to go to the after hours clinic at the hospital but when we got there the sign on the door said it didn’t open till 8:00pm, it was now 6:30pm. Remembering that there is a few late closing doctors around and really not wanting to go to emergency we hopped back in the car. We got to the first doctors at 6:45 it closed at 6:30 ( the lights were on and they were packing up but the door was locked) We got to the next one at 7:03 and just to make the night so much more fun it closed at 7:00 so Emergency it was.

Emergency is a happening place, it is so the coolest place to hang out, must be all the seats were full. They do have a penned off baby area but after a quick glance at the feverish hacking and coughing children that inhabited it there was no way I was letting her walk around in there. Some people have those rare and highly valued Sit On Your Lap babies I don’t so I spent the next hour pacing the hall outside the toilets. FUN. Every time she got to the end and touched the wall she cracked up laughing and we weren’t allowed to walk back till we went into the change room and said “AHH HA” and did a little dance.

We were still yet to be seen at 8:00pm so we told the nice desk nurse that we’d be off now and she seamed quite happy to cross someone off the list. We got to the clinic just before the doors opened and waited in the dark till someone let us in. We were the first to be seen and the doctor and nurse were lovely. They looked a little unsure of how to keep a baby still while gluing it back together and wondered if the wiggles would help. I showed them how I could wrap her up tight in a sheet, pin her down by laying my body over her and hold her head still with my hands. I must admit I felt a wave of pride when the doctor said with surprise “Wow the Mum’s an expert” only now that I think about it being the best at holding small children still so they can be glued back together really isn’t the best thing to be proud of.

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But last week she slipped past my stringent security measures and the end result is that now I don’t have a phone. This meant that when I stopped to get a little petrol, because the red light was glaring at me all the way to the kids afternoon club, I had no mobile phone.  And When I tried to use my new card to pay and the words that came up on the machine said DECLINED contact bank and the line of people began to snake out the door as I tried and tried again to get it to work. I HAD NO MOBILE PHONE. I had no way of ringing anyone to come and save me. It’s funny I wouldn’t have said I was a big mobile phone user but the security that you feel knowing that any number (no pun intended) of knights in shining armour are only a call away is total bliss.

I had no idea what happened when you couldn’t pay for petrol, the only thing that was jumping to mind was a story I had heard about a service station owner holding a guys kids for security while he went to get money and there was no way I was passing my babies over to the the grumpy lady behind the counter.

“Oh well, you’ll have to fill out a blue form then” replied the service station lady and I realised that the thoughts that had been running around my head had gotten out and I was standing there in a trance repeating “What do I do, What do I do???” In the end she was really nice, just a gruff personality probably suited to dealing with a daily dose of burly truck drivers. At one point I must have seemed a little too shaky because she looked up at me and said “And you can stop panicking it’s fine, but if you don’t come back and pay the $47 by tomorrow the police will be getting involved”

I was so apologetic to the large queue behind me and kept repeating how sorry I was as I made my retreat. One nice man in the queue tried to put me at my easy saying “Don’t stress, It happens to everyone.” “Really?” I thought as I headed back the the car, everyone has their bag snatched, their new card declined and their mobiles flushed down the toilet, I never knew.

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Whenever we go to a homeschooling park gathering where swarms of children run free transforming nature into the tools of their imaginations we always have a little bit of trouble leaving. This is manly due to one obstinate member of the family who upon spying me gathering the bags climbs to the highest point of the play equipment and digs their heels in. However last week this didn’t happen, they were great, I even had assistance with the bags. And as I was driving home I thought why don’t I treat them, you know so they associate good behaviour with receiving a treat. That’s good parenting isn’t it, or was that what we were meant to be doing with the dog??

Anyhoo, we pulled up at the shops and I told the kids I needed to get money out first. We all trooped up to the nearest ATM and I stuck the card in and nothing. Not nothing from the machine, nothing from me. I had absolutely no idea what the little numbers were, I was totally blank. You see two days earlier I had my bag pinched at the library. I must say the people who work there and a few members of the general public made having all your personal belongings pinched a reasonable pleasant experience. Heaps of people hunted for the thing for me and one even attempted to quell the ferocious raging tantrum that one child thought was totally appropriate to bring out right at that moment. The bag was eventually located but not before the cards had been cancelled. I had to laugh though, there is one totally grossed out opportunistic felon out there because while the bag did have my wallet in it what your hand fell on initially was a pile of wet nappies. The bag looked like a hand bag but I use it as a nappy bag and Eli had put his drink bottle in there with the lid open so everything inside was disturbingly squishy. Being at the bottom the purse was left untouched and the bag was stuffed under the bookshelves at the back of the library.

All that meant that I was now standing in front of the ATM new card in hand and no idea what buttons to push. I looked down at their expectant eyes and attempted an explanation in the vain hope that they would turn to me and say “That’s fine Mummy we understand of course sandwiches at home will be fine” *Insert hollow monotonous HA HA* I had two sets of instant tears and one plonk down on the ground with crossed arms. Then to top it off Sabrina stated to cry. I could feel the eyes.

Then my charming Lillly calls up to me “Just get the money Mummy, I don’t know why you never get the money”

“I would get the money Lilly” I respond through clenched teeth “Only I can’t, I don’t know the number and I don’t have any cash on me”

Major Oh No, if they all revolt like this I can’t win, I’m out numbered, if they all just sit on the floor crying I have no way of physically getting them to the car, I can feel panic tingling on the edge of my senses, go away panic If you show up now you may as well bring the men in white coats with you.

“Wait hang on” I yell, hope is making me slightly manic. “Daddy stashes change in the car, we may have money people”

And we did. We had enough of the gold coins with a few sliver to buy a family size chips and a few strips of chicken, and boy did it taste sweet. When we were finished the issue of thirst arose. HMMM, I looked in the change purse, there was a little still in there mostly 10’s and 5’s.

I explained to the kids really really well that we could only get one drink to share and only if we had enough coins. I couldn’t bring myself to go back to the same shop with my coins so I approached another and sheepishly asked if she could tell me the exact price of the small bottle of lemonade. As she saw me fumbling with my tower of 5’s she was obviously taken aback but she recovered nicely and offered a tray to help me stack them on. Then as we were walking off she called us back and asked us if she could offer us 5 cups to help out, assuring me it was no problem at all. Then as she handed them over she smiled sympathetically down at the children.I followed her gaze and it was then that I realized that we had come straight from the park and the kids were covered head to toe in red brown playground dust. To top it off the earlier tears had mingled with the muck giving each of them a hollowed out dark eye look. To the uneducated observer they really did look like the poorest street urchins ever realised in the mind of Dickens.

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Totally out of the blue today Eli approaches me visibly upset.

“ I’m NEVER ever going to be an adult!”

“oh well I think one day you will be”

“No I’m never growing up, why are you always saying I’m growing up!” He screamed in frustration like I’m constantly jumping out from behind the furniture yelling “Look everyone it’s a potential ADULT!!”

“You might find that you like being a Grown up” I counter, never happy to leave them alone with depressed future thoughts.

“NO I’M NEVER EVER GOING TO BE ANY BIGGER THAN I AM NOW!!!!!”

Uh Oh major Peter Pan thing going on here, quick say something cool that you get to do when you are big

“Oh there are lots of good things about being an Adult…”

“NO” He bellows over the top of my chirpiness “I am Never doing the KISSING THING!!!”

Your daughters are safe, at least till he grows up, but we’re keeping that hush hush for now.

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What’s Mothers day without breakfast in bed? Mine even came with a menu, all be it limited. And yes they made it themselves and yes it was edible. Glenn even held Sabrina so I could eat without a baby jumping on my head a rare treat in this house.

I see mothers day as a multi layered celebration. First you get jumped out of your sleep by 4 excited to bursting little people who are desperate to show you all their tokens of appreciation.

Then after church there is an opportunity over lunch to reflect on how special your own Mum is. How much more like a friend she has become as time has altered our rolls and yet how much I still value her opinions. Also how beautiful it is to see her running around the playground after my tearaway lot.

And Lastly there is a chance to take a deep breath in and thank God from every inch of my soul for these precious little ones.  

Mothers day is not just a day for Mothers to be spoilt, it is It is the perfect opportunity to thank God for the privilege. Happy Mothers Day.

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1. Our deepest thanks to Mr. Richard Dean Anderson, oh and Happy Easter.

We used to be a family that drove places. Out to the country to see the spotty cows, up the mountain just to look out over where we had come from. The kids would soak in the spectacle of our corner of creation as it slid past the windows. They would increase their sense of belonging in this world, peppering us with questions of why and how till they tired and drifted off to sleep. Then Glenn and I would talk again as dreamers imagining our path to the future.

Now we drive TO places, we choose the shortest root. We try to get home before the sun sets because the dark scares you so. We sit someone on either side of you, holding your hand, stroking your hair. We always bring purple blankie so we can play endless games off peek a boo. We hope and pray that someday soon you won’t try and clamber back up Mummy’s neck as I click you into the car. I’m not writing this to make you feel bad bubby, we all are forever thankful that you are here. In fact the concern your brother and sisters show for your baby tears melts Mummy’s heart. I’m just recording time, noting memories, besides in the future you may have a baby that screams hysterically in the car and then I can say Ha Ha! I feel your pain.

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LOOK, LOOK, LOOK!!!! the icky yucky black stuff is coming off the floor, WooHoo!!! It is so officially Happy Dance time, come on join me one…two…three…kick, one…two…three…kick!

The not very nice to walk on, sticky black stuff (like the tar they put down on the roads to hold the little stones in place) is what we were left with as a kitchen floor after a whole entire weekend of smashing slate. Dad had convinced us it would just take an afternoon to remove the slate floor in the kitchen so we thought we’d give it a go.

To be fair if they guy who owned this house before us had laid the slate properly it would have just taken an afternoon. To lay slate you need to screw a board to the flour first then lay a base then glue the tiles to this. This guy who we are now referring to as The Devil Incarnate just glued straight onto the floor boards. When we first realised this was no afternoon job we went to flooring shops to ask for advice and I’m not kidding you the first piece of advice we got was.

“Well, what you need to do is firstly, find out where the guy who laid the floor lives, go around to his house and shoot him”

Not the most encouraging advice.

Another guy told us that if we found anything strong enough to melt the black it would eat the floor boards but he was wrong. After a month and a half of scraping 1cm square per day clear of black, I freaked out. I screamed and yelled at the floor like a crazy woman and told Glenn if he didn’t find something to fix it this weekend I was going to burn the house down because rebuilding would be easier than this. He came home with paint and varnish stripper, not to be used on floorboards, which works perfectly.

So now all we have to do to finish the floor is:

Smash up remaining tiles with sledge hammer (look at the hammer and imagine BIGGER, I couldn’t find the real one)

Use hammer and chisel to magical transform thick black stuff into thin black stuff.

Use stripper to peal of black stuff and induce pink elephant hallucinations, that stuff is strong.

It should only take us another year or so, longest afternoon I’ve ever come across.

P.S For all those people who have witnessed our progress and have kindly suggested that we could have just left it it didn’t look that bad YOU ARE NOT HELPING!!!!!!!

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Easter and more specifically the whole egg laying part and our family do not mix. Don’t get me wrong I like Easter, who wouldn’t like a day were consuming copious amounts of chocolate is not only allowed but encouraged.  Also and massively more importantly Easter is an opportunity to express our joy and gratitude to God for never giving up on us. However I don’t have the best track record for getting it right.

For example the year we acquired our intelligence-challenged spaniel, rejected from the show ring due to a wonky tooth, our kids were lucky to get any eggs at all. We had left the whole egg laying caper a little late so some time past midnight I found myself hurriedly cramming eggs into  tiny caves found along the bookshelves. After hiding away over half of our tiniest eggs and running thin on obvious  egg spots in our little lounge room I turned to do a visual sweep of the room. When I turned I came face to face with a silent and very guilty faced brown hairy mutt. He had been shadowing me all night, so close behind that I hadn’t noticed, and as I placed each egg he silently gobbled it up again. I must have spun around faster than he expected because there we were standing face to face, me with my surprised mouth gaping his full of shiny foil and dripping chocolate. After a slightly panicked search of the room we came to realize that every cleverly thought of place of concealment had just as cleverly been robbed by the dog.  Luckily we hadn’t put out any of the big eggs and Glenn and I made up the difference from our own secret stash, the things parents do.

Most of the other horror stories involve the same pedigree mutt but take place the day after Easter and could be titled “The Mysterious Disappearance of all of Eli’s Eggs” so this year I was determined to outsmart the hairy one and have a tearless and smiley faced Easter. Before the eggs were hidden we secured the woefully sad and pleading eyed dog behind the baby gate, we found suitable containment for each of the children’s stashes and even cleared a space high up on the hall cupboards shelf for the egg bags to go later. We started earlier and had fun setting up the kids favourite toys with bunny ears and a little collection of eggs to great them at the table. When we had finished Glenn and I looked at each other and I think that one of us may have even said “Right I think it’s time for bed”

Cue baby.

Um, she’s a soprano by the way, oh and boy can she sing!

As the clock ticked over to 12 the baby woke. No big deal she does this every night, I give her a feed, she goes back to sleep.

Not this night, not no way. She chooses Easter eve to cut two massive molars, teeth in our family come with at least six points. Not only would she not sleep but there was no consoling her. The only time she was quiet was when one of us had her wrapped up in our arms and jogged back and forth across the family room. Sitting was entirely out of the question, I mean what horrible parent would want to sit down at 2:00 in the morning anyway, how selfish.  I realised with a horrible sinking feeling that dealing with miss screamy bags was up to me alone. Glenn was running the projector at church in the morning and the Easter service is probably not the best one to fall asleep in mid-song.

As I jealously waved my husband off to bed I looked around for something that might drown out the screaming and keep me sane while I didn’t sleep. Our TV has had it, so after watching all the new releases at the video store that we could bare to play we’ve been working our way through whatever old TV shows we come across in the shop and go, “Hey wow do you remember that one?” Our current nostalgia grab is MacGyver. 

I tightened my grip on the hysterical octopus I was attempting to rock back to sleep and pressed play. She squirmed through the opening credits but it was alright I had gained a boost from the memory of childish excitement that the theme music conjured up. Then something totally amazing happened. As a bushwhacking MacGyver began his opening monologue, something about him and Pete being bestest buddies and the need to always have a stash of chewing gum on hand, the baby stoped screaming.  She didn’t sleep but while that guy was dashing around on the screen wielding the laws of physics and a mullet big enough to scare the pants of any hardened criminal she was happy. In fact when one disc finished she screamed until I put the next one in. I’m now worried about her and think we might get her psychologically assessed. 

So I would like to officially thank Mr Richard Dean Anderson for stopping the screaming, allowing me to display supreme parenting skills by dozing on the couch while the baby watched TV and for being being my kids first TV crush.

Oh yeah and three days after Easter the dog ate all of Lilly’s eggs but she didn’t cry and the other kids shared out their remaining eggs of their own volition, so I call this year a win. HAPPY EASTER!!!!

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This last shot is especially for my sister who keeps trying to peer past all those annoying kids in the photos I put up to see how the renovations are going. And yes we still haven’t finished scraping the kitchen floor.

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