The Great Expectations of Fluff

I have never considered myself one who gave in to "party politics and demands" and certainly didn't when the boy's had their birthdays. They were relatively easy to cater for, they both knew who they wanted as guests and what they wanted as gifts, easy, sorted, quick sticks. Madam Fluff on the other hand, has had me rather stressed out over the last two weeks. Every attempt at making the guest list shorter only results in the guest list getting longer as she is absolutely adamant that she only plays with and is bestest friends with all but 3 kids in her class, add to that the "usual birthday party suspects" and a few other invitations, we are sitting on a handsome number of 35 children. Ain't gonna happen chicky bird! And we hit a standoff.

In desperation I approach the teacher, (who, by the way is now my very own personal Agony Aunt, when it comes to Fluff anyway) who always seems to have a solution for everything. A word here, some advice there and the real list of 4 children in the class Fluff is really close to and plays with regularly. I make my way home absolutely relieved at my now drastically shorter list.

Then there's the gift list that is practically longer than the guest list and I have even been advised on how to redecorate her room in order to make space for all her apparent soon to be acquired riches, which range from a new cupboard to a play play microwave and more kitchen equipment than even I own to hair and make up accessories and clothes. Is there anything left in the shop I ask you? Barbies and Bratz dolls were on the list too including some clothes for them "because they can't walk around naked you know and they need to wear something when their existing outfits are in the wash!" And so we have it, I think, until we attempt, at my own detriment, to go through the list again and hopefully make it shorter one last time or perhaps I should call it a day and not bother, for sanity purposes. Armed now with indisputable proof, I must agree with my hubby when he says that fluff is a quantity girl and not a quality girl. (I suppose if the quality came in quantities that would be a different story but with her, the more, the better)

Just the two of us

Madam Fluff drew this picture of the two of us and I just absolutely love it. It is very seldom that she really feels like sitting down and drawing so this beautiful and colourful work of art has found a warm fuzzy spot deep in my heart. Thank you Princess. I love you.

Could I have some Tomato Sauce with that please?

I must admit, I am a Tomato Sauce (ketchup) girl. I could pretty much add it to any meal before I would consider using another sauce. Macaroni cheese just isn't the same without a dash or rather a dollop of good old tomato sauce. I do however have to draw the line somewhere, I suppose, like today for example; we arrive home from school and fluff requests a peanut butter sandwich, no problem. As I am about to add the finishing touches to the gourmet sarmie, Fluff tells me to add tomato sauce.....huh?

"No, sweetie" I reply, holding down the urge to reflux right at that moment, "Peanut butter and tomato sauce just don't go together."

"O.K." she says, "Can you just put it on the side and I will dip the bread in?"

The urge to gag returns. " Caley girl, please, tomato sauce and peanut butter sarmies just don't go together."

Thank goodness, the conversation did end there and she sauntered off to munch on her lunch.

Although I am quite prepared to give any food item a reason to be enhanced by my favourite condiment, I'm not sure I am going to give this one a try. Excuse me, the urge to gag has returned again.

Play dating on line

Madam Fluff: "Mom, please can I go play at Jacquies house after school?"

Me: "I first have to ask his Mom, Sweet Pea."

Madam fluff: "But I asked her already at Jean's Party and she said yes."

Me: "I need to speak to her and find out what day is convenient for her to have you over."

Madam Fluff: "Why don't you phone her now and ask her?"

Me: "Sweetie, I don't have her phone number, I will have to try and find it and then I will give her a call and ask her."

Madam Fluff: "Well Mom, why don't you just e-mail her?"

Me: "Hhmm" speechless...........

My Purple Hero.

Some mornings the kids wake up at sparrow fart and I allow them to watch T.V until breakfast is ready. The conversation that followed:

Madam Fluff. "Mom, you know, Barney is really silly."

Me. "Oh really, what makes you say that?"

Madam Fluff, with a sceptical laugh. "Barney says cleaning up is fun. Isn't he just so silly?"

For one of the first times in my life I supported and defended the famous Purple Dinosaur's argument. I just simply had to get my two cents in while I had the backing of a (I'm wondering if after this "ridiculously silly" comment, is any longer) child's role model.

Go Barney! I love you today! "I love you, you love me....La la la la la la la........won't you say you love me too."

Breakfast boycotts and flying eggs

The battle for power is on again. The battle between the girls. I was always led to believe, while growing up, that the man was the head of the household, this statement, depending on how one looks at it can be true and false. Admittedly in our household, my husband is definitely the breadwinner but does that make him the HEAD of the house??? hhhmmmm, tricky?

There are days when I prefer him to be the head honcho but then there are days when it puts a feather in *MY* cap to say I am the boss around here, well, when it comes to the kids anyway. I think. Madam Fluff finds any opportunity to challenge this; this morning (and every other freeking morning actually) proves my point perfectly. Breakfast is a nightmare. She will refuse to eat anything, which completely contradicts the school's pleas of making sure your child has a healthy morning meal to ensure that they are awake, alert and not dreary and tired. All the fuss of getting Fluff to eat her breakfast is making me dreary and tired and a few other *beeping* things. Dragging (almost literally) her to school this morning in her PJ's didn't seem to feature too much either (perhaps she had noticed the pile of school clothes on the front seat and called by bluff, I 'm not sure.)

Is this a case of two stubborn hens fighting for the top spot or am *I* being stubborn in attempting to maintain my superiority by forcing something on her that isn't really as big of an issue as I am making it out to be? A little help here or as a fellow blogger so eloquently refers to as "assvice" (advice), would be greatly appreciated. I just don't see the point of making our mornings (as it is becoming) a traumatising experience for everyone in the household. Should I stick to my guns and insist that rules are rules (there are two other kiddies that I am afraid might cotton on to the idea of breakfast boycotting if I relent). My dilemma I hope to make your dilemma and would appreciate some ass kicking problem solving advice here. Thank you.

Biker Babe

Caley continues to surprise me. She is a feisty little Sprite with the energy and vigor of a chipmunk on Red Bull. I have also noticed her determination, if she wants to know how something works, she will find a way. Do not challenge her, unless you are certain, without a doubt, that you are up for that challenge; my little Madam Fluff will take any one and anything on. Head on. Including me, but that's not the point right now, I'll babble about that another time. Today her determination and will to succeed has amazed me.

Caley has a lovely pink "Barbie" (no doubt) bicycle, with all the frills (that she ripped off) and the little training wheels. She spends most of her time on this bike, she loves it . My little Madam Fluff has developed such a need for speed and a confidence in her ability to ride that she duly announced to my husband that it was time for the "baby" wheels to come off. The training wheel on the left side has practically bent itself upward due to the strain of her taking the corners so hard and fast.

Hubby is not too keen on the idea but she persists and naturally he relents and the baby wheels come off. He prepares himself for the big lesson on how to ride a "two wheel" bike, he readies himself to go out and hold on to the back of the seat and lead her steadily in the right direction and cautiously on her way. As we walk out of the front door we hear "Look Dad, I'm riding!". Well, I'll be a monkeys bottom; zooming past us was Madam Fluff on her bike minus the baby wheels and at quite a pace I might add. She rockets around the corners and each time she passes us we are greeted with a grin a Cheshire cat would kill for and her proud little nose stuck up in the air . "See Dad" she adds with a whiney " I told you so-na-na-na-na-na!" tone in her voice, well, that would be because the next thing she said was "I told you, I could ride a bike without baby wheels."

We soon realised that the reason she kept going around and around was because she had no idea how to stop the bike. Dad tries to explain very quickly, in speed talk, each time she whizzes past, but to no avail. "Don't worry Dad, I can do it." (yeah we know and that is sometimes what worries us!) the bike comes flying past us ripping up a lovely piece of turf and without Fluff on it, thank goodness. Caley's method of stopping....jump off, finding the softest spot of turf to land on and make sure the bike continues in a direction opposite to where you landed. It worked this time but Dad is not sure this should become a habit. He leads her off by the hand and begins to teach her about the brakes and how they work. Personally, I think he was a little chuffed that he was able to participate, some how, in little Miss Independent's first riding lesson.

Madam Fluff to the rescue

I must admit the last two days have been a bit of a blur. Tuesday was spent mostly under, and then under the effects of sedation, oblivious, yet relaxed and unphased by the world or it's circumstances. Wednesday morning started with recovery, although I felt like I have been in some sort of bar brawl and lost, I thought that I was coping well under the circumstances.

By mid morning I began feeling icy cold, a fine layer of sweat covered my body and I began to feel rather dizzy in my head, soon after that some very unwelcome nausea set in. I called Mr. Hubby with a "I'm not doing too well, please can you fetch the kids plea", but I had left it too late and he was on the other side of town, he wouldn't make it.

I recall one of the Mom's at Snuggle Bug's school greeting me with a "my goodness, are you OK? You look AWFUL!" Why thank you very much, No, I am not feeling too hot, but I was not aware that I looked bloody awful!! The trip between schools is a bit of a haze and I just remember telling myself not to throw up.

At home, I barely got in the door, unpacked the kid's bags, saw that no-one had eaten their sarmies and thought YAY, I don't have to make them lunch (bad mom), instead I gave each of them their lunch boxes and told them that was lunch. I got to the bathroom, tried to phone Mr. Hubby and vaguely recall dropping the phone as he answered, throwing up and then nothing. Waking up, throwing up, someone asking for a yogurt and then nothing.

At one stage I woke up, pulled myself up of the bathroom floor to find Mr. Hubby standing over me asking me if I was alright, hold on!! head in the loo....vomit, hhmmm, just fine, peachy!! Then nothing.

I woke up again at about 6pm to find that Mr. Hubby was giving everyone dinner (KFC) and began trying to piece together the events of the afternoon. Mr. Hubby told me how my little heroin, Madam Fluff, had picked up my cell phone of the bathroom floor, pressed redial and called him. The conversation was apparently something like "Daddy, Mommy is really sick, her teeth are very sore and she is spitting in the toilet. I don't like it. You need to come home now and take her to the doctor!". Clearly by now Mr. Hubby had realised something was amiss and was already on his way home, Madam Fluff, however, proceeded to call him another 4 times to check whether he WAS in fact on his way, where exactly he was and why it was taken him so very long to get home....hee hee and he thought I was a nag!!

I finally "came to" at about 10.30pm. Turns out after a little investigating by Hubby during the course of the afternoon, I had suffered some sort of reaction to the pain medication prescribed. Scary to say the least but my meds have now been changed and I feeling much, much better; back to feeling like I've been in a bar brawl and lost, which now, with some added aching muscles around my midrift, I can deal with.

What I find a little more scary now that I can think back on it was the fact that during this time, my kids were basically left to their own devices; had Fluff not phoned my husband (5 times, she is very proud of that) to make him aware that something really is wrong at home, who knows what could have happened during the time I was "out of it" until he eventually came home; which is usually around 6 - 6.30pm. So I thank God for looking over us yesterday and for giving my Little Madam Fluff the wisdom to phone her Daddy and get some help. Thank you Princess, Mommy loves you.

Complicated Women

Who would have thought that the universal (often alien, it has been said)phenomenon that is a woman, actually begins from a very early age. That the complexities of being female don't necessarily begin at puberty as I have lately discovered via a particular little Madam that resides in our household.

I'm not that experienced on the whole Love languages concept, I have all the books by the way, I just never really got around to reading them. I was very curious to learn my husbands love language, which, as the bad wife in me is about to reveal, I still do not know. He is rather complex, the strong silent type, that nothing seems to phase, or at least doesn't show it, doesn't get all gaa gaa over gifts, in fact I think last years Valentine's chocolates are still lurking in the back of his cupboard.

When it comes to the love languages of children, (another book I have got but haven't gotten around to), I have discovered without a doubt that my daughter doesn't have one love language, she has them all. Madam fluff is a quality attention seeking, gift loving, affirmation craving, touch feely huggy complicated little female. Unfortunately one of the things I am least able to offer her in the afternoons when it is time to do Kade's homework is obviously attention and quality time, which is exactly the time when she wants it..go figure!....

I had a chat with Madam Fluff's teacher yesterday after school and during the discussion the topic came up about how I struggle to get on with Mr's homework because Fluff just won't let us get on with it. Miss Ab's suggestion saved my life and my afternoon..PS...I love you....

Miss Ab told me that during the course of this week they were learning about the letter "S" and suggested that I haul out some old magazines, give her her own little homework book and make her cut out anything in the magazine that she could find that started with the letter "S".
OK, so you're thinking that it didn't need a brain surgeon to figure that out but her next proposal surprised me and made me so happy that this woman was prepared to take time out of her morning to make my afternoons easier, I now love her even more. Teacher Ab told me to send Madam Fluff's "homework" to school everyday and she would tick it and mark it and put stars on it if the cutting and sticking was top notch. Needless to say, homework yesterday afternoon was absolute bliss. Madam Fluff had an absolute ball, being this big school girl that had her own very important, VIP no less, homework of her very own.

Madam Fluff dressed herself up this morning in her prettiest skirt, top and her "high heels" or as she calls them, her clop clop shoes (because we are so very big now) and paraded into school with her diary in one hand (my old one from last year...which I pray doesn't have too much revealing info left in it), her bag draped over her shoulder and her homework book cradled protectively in the other arm.
Instead of the dread and anxiety that befalls me every morning when I take her to school (she still hangs onto my legs when I try to leave the building), I felt this immense sense of pride in this little Madam who thinks she is so very grown up now and is happily sashaying her little hips and clop-clopping up the passage. I feel absolute gratitude and appreciation for her Teacher who probably has no idea how her effort to make my afternoon yesterday a little easier made so much difference in two very complicated women's lives.

Play date debacle

A topic that has created a little bit of confusion this year. Can you believe that the issue of playing at a friend or having them play at your house can be such a huge decision.
Caley (my Madam Fluff) is my little social butterfly and the play date requests start almost as soon as I have picked her up at school, seriously, there are times where she is asking me to go to so-n-so's house before I even get a hello Mom. Every single day it is somebody new and because she is at a new school, naturally I don't even know half of the people, which brings me to my first debacle. How can I just allow her to go to somebody's house when I have no idea who the parents are, where they live and what standards of dicipline or lack there of they show in their homes, and of course not to mention the obvious that is every parents' nightmare. (Remember I am the "uptight, overbearing, overprotective", so I am told mom). When I try to explian to Madam Fluff that I don't know the people, she doesn't seem to grasp what I am saying, which is understandable for a four and a half year old. I could explain it until the cows come home but all she hears is NO and then the tears, screaming, kicking etc etc begins, of course I stick to my guns because in my rule book a NO is always a NO. I am quite happy for the kids to come to our house but then that brings me to my next issue; Kade and his homework and of course his *love* of homework.
Kade gets homework everyday bar Fridays, so I thought it would be easy enough to just make a rule that friends and play dates can happen on a Friday. This wasn't as easy a decision as I previously anticipated; picture all three kids bringing a friend home on a Friday afternoon, I guess while some mother's could probably handle it, I found it a little overwhelming having 6 kids running around, literally wrecking the place.
Thankfully my little snuggle bug Connor, doesn't talk yet and still has an afternoon nap so he hasn't started on the whole play date thing. At his school he has a play day every morning with all his buds.
Should I let Madam Fluff play where and when ever she wants, considering the fact that she doesn't have to do homework yet. Or should I stick to a once a week day that would hopefully suit the other parents as well (after I have had them thoroughly background checked by the CIA, FBI and IRS first of course).
If anybody has a stead fast play date rule that works for you, I would love it if you would share it.