Tuesday, 27 March 2007

Good morning, Sunshine

Ever since my husband started his current job in London last year, he's had to wake up at 6am-ish to get to the train station in time. It's torture for him, so I bought him a Lumie Body Clock to help him wake up. We all know what it's like to be forced to wake up when it's still dark outside: Suckage.

So this clock is totally awesome; it slowly lights up in the mornings so by the time it is at its brightest, you should be awake. And it works, for me. Dagnabit! Now I'm fully awoken by the light every morning and my husband is happily sleeping with a pillow over his face.

It was a great idea, and I actually really love the clock, but I still have to kick my lazy husband out of bed. Is there an alarm clock out there with an automated butt-kicking feature?

Thursday, 22 March 2007

Time is on my side, yes it is. NOT

I help to run a youth group through my Church. Last night, as I was chatting with these 14-year-old girls, I mentioned Jay Leno and David Letterman. I received blank stares. No one in the room had heard of these comedians, and apart from my mild surprise, I realised that the reference actually dated me. As in, out of date. As in, OLD.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous now. I'm starting to worry about my youthful looks and cheerful demeanor disappearing. With the White Eyebrow Hair Debacle of 2007, things are looking pretty grim.

It appears that I am melting, after all. Sigh.

Wednesday, 21 March 2007

TV Free, Day 3

We don't own a TV licence. Yes, we're rebels of the highest order. You don't actually need to buy a licence if you are only going to use your television to watch DVDs or videos. As long as you aren't receiving a signal, you are safe from the million-billion pound fine they lay on you for breaking the rules.

So, for over five years now, we haven't watched television in our home. However, we do watch plenty of movies and belong to an on-line DVD rental club. We also use torrentz to its full capacity. My kids are obsessed with the television.

I used to be absurdly proud of the fact that we don't watch TV. Ha! Irony, how cruel you are. Last week, I realised that my kids are little addicts. They beg for a fix in the morning before school, after school, after dinner, basically any time they are slightly bored or bugging each other. They get jittery if they don't get to watch what they want. ("Dora dora dora dora" is the current plea) Half of my son's vocabulary is from Dora the Explorer. Most of my daughter's imaginary play is taken from movie plots.

I've been peddling the stuff in larger and larger doses, using it to keep them still and quiet and then I bugger off to do housework (yeah, likely) or sleep (more likely) or surf the net aimlessly until I have to make dinner (ding ding ding! We have a winner!).

This habit was originally borne out of necessity; being pregnant with two other children to look after is not an easy task, and I needed a nap in the afternoon or I would quite literally fall over by 4pm. Now, I don't need that as much, and it's time to quit cold turkey.

We started Monday. I was worried. I told Oldest Child that the TV was grounded, and we keep it turned off at the plug so they can't even attempt to turn it on. Middle child is currently teething his last 4 molars, finally, and is a very unhappy bunny right now. He threw himself at the TV unit several times that day, crying and begging for Dora. It didn't help that I had the Dora song stuck in my head on Monday and kept singing it. I'm a mean, mean woman. Oldest Child coped better than I expected.

Tuesday. I took Middle Child to playgroup in the morning, and we had visitors in the afternoon. Our day was busy, and we were able to avoid any major meltdowns. So far, so good.

Wednesday. Today. Another busy day, so I'm hoping it will pass relatively easily.

See, I'm all for using the tools you have at your disposal to make life a bit easier as a parent of 3 under 5. But I was using it as a crutch, and there were days when (cringe) the TV was on longer than it was off. Yikes. If things go well this week, I may instigate a weekend TV rule: none in the week and some on Saturdays.

I still get to watch it all night, until I fall asleep on the couch at 12.30am. Hypocrite, thy name is Mother. Ha!

Monday, 19 March 2007

I'm melting, I'm melting! (okay, so that's a tad dramatic)

So, yesterday, on Mother's Day, one month before my 26th birthday, I found TWO white hairs in my eyebrow. What's up with that?

I'm still young, dagnabit. My life is not exciting enough for my hair pigment to be disappearing. The offending hairs have been eradicated, but I know they were there. And now, in addition to all of the other obsessive grooming techniques I've developed over the years, I have to add White Hair Eradication to the list. It doesn't seem fair that I have blackheads and spots in addition to white hairs. Next on the list? Wrinkle Patrol.

I'm getting ooooooold. What a world, what a world!

Monday, 5 March 2007

C is for Cookie

I'm kind of in love with Cookie Monster. I bought the kids the DVD set of Old School Sesame Street, and Cookie Monster is so funny and adorable. It's amazing what those puppeteers can do with a mouth and googly eyes.

My daughter, Oldest Child, loves Cookie Monster as well. She now says the alphabet and replaces certain letters with shouts of "Cookie Monster!" and sings songs about him. How can you not love him, I ask you? He enjoys the finer things in life, and knows how to truly appreciate a good cookie. Eat as much as you can, as quickly as you can, that's my motto. Eat it before your toddler gets to it first.

Saturday, 3 March 2007

Everyone Worth Knowing? Are you serious?

Last weekend, I watched the muchly disneyfied movie, The Devil Wears Prada. I thought it was a bit of fluffy fun, and immensely enjoyed Meryl Streep's acting. That woman, she is a genius.

I went out and bought the book the other day, and also threw in the author's second novel, Everyone Worth Knowing, since the bookstore was having a special. Prada was darker than the movie, and slightly more twisty, so not bad. The second book, however, was predictable from the first sentence. Very similar storyline to Prada; same sorts of characters, the requisite gay man thrown in, and of course, the true-love-but-I-hate-him-at-first-glance hunky sensitive man.

The party scenes were so wild, so crazy, so disturbing, I don't know if I should be relieved that I don't live that kind of life, or desperate to check it out to see if it's true.

I hate reading books by authors that don't have enough imagination to stray from their first book's premise. Dan Brown, Micheal Crichton, I'm looking at you. There are more of you out there, writers that can spin a decent yarn that hooks people in, but can't think of anything else when your publishers push you for more. Sure, you're rich and famous, and sell books based upon your famous name alone now, but can we try for something more original next time?

This is why I love Terry Pratchett. His books are based in his own little reality, with much-loved and oft-used characters, but the stories are interesting every time. I can't see twists and turns just after reading the first chapter. In fact, I often don't understand the entire plot even after finishing the book! There are a lot of layers to his writing; he's smart and funny.

Now I regret buying these books at all. Anyone want some free paperback fluff? (You pay for postage)

Friday, 2 March 2007

Can I run away yet?

Baby Child is 9 weeks old, and Oldest Child is starting to realise that she's here to stay. The result of this realisation is clinging to me like stickiness to a toddler's face. That is, she never goes far.

I literally have to peel her off my legs when I leave her for nursery school. I feel like I'm damaging her permanently every morning. I've planned fun activities for us to do after school each day, while Middle Child and Baby Child are napping, but it's still not good enough. I sometimes go out in the evenings to, you know, do non-mom things, but even though she's with her daddy, it's still not good enough. (How's that for a comma-filled sentence?)

Quite frankly, unless she has my attention 100% of the time, from waking to sleeping, it's not good enough. I'm exhausted. I love her, I have fun with her, but I really need a break. And lots of chocolate.

I'm tired of feeling like a not-good-enough mother. This is hard work.