Things have gone all quiet in the land of Nessville lately. However, at least this is consistent with the way I am in person. Exceedingly quiet. I must confess, I have just felt like I had nothing of any interest to say, so I didn't bother trying to say anything. Which is the same reason I'm quiet in person. I'm sure you thought it was because I am deep, mysterious and intellectual. Lost in my own little World, pondering on the Meaning Of Life. Nope. I just can't think of a damn thing to say. Or write, as the case may be. Eventually I come back to the same stunning conclusion that I have in the past: having nothing to say hasn't stopped me before - so here I am! Sorry, you can't get rid of me. So ner!
The school holidays managed to fly by. We had discussed the possibility of going away somewhere, but in our usual brisk and efficient fashion we never bothered following through and booking something. Micky Blue Eyes schlepped out the Sydney Royal Easter show one day with Mr 12 and 5, while Mr 10 and I stayed home. As tempting as those Dagwood Dogs are, I can take or leave it. With emphasis on the 'leave' part.
The following week I managed to drag the boys out for a picnic with the promise of some Kentucky Fried Crap. Bribery works every time. Erm...I mean..rewards. Ahem..
We spent a lovely couple of hours in the sunshine discussing the boys fervent desire to have a dog. It was decided that our (so far fictional) dog might be named Scruffles or Jeff. However, if we do indeed decide to add a dog to the family, I'm pitching for a female one, just so I can finally have another female in the family even if it is only a dog. I've heard the theory that it's important to have a dog once your children become teenagers so that at least someone is happy to see you. Related: in approximately two months and five days I shall become the proud mother of a teenager when Mr 12 becomes Mr 13. Hold me.
Mr 5 is not always happy to see me as it is. I shudder to think of him being a teenager. Particularly since I shall be approximately 105 by then. In fact, he frequently informs me that I have to leave the room if I want him to get dressed, an arduous procedure which can take an eternity. He already has very firm ideas of what he will and won't wear. When I innocently open my mouth to say the most innocuous of statements, he'll cover his ears and howl "STOP TALKING! You're giving me a headache!!"
God forbid I should try to give him anything resembling a compliment. An exchange from just last night went something like this:
"You're my beautiful boy," I crooned, as I hugged him close.
"NO!" he insisted "that's for when you get merried! I'm NOT beautiful. That's girls when they get merried!"
That's not a typo by the way. That was exactly how he pronounced 'married'.
I smiled and said "Well, you're handsome then."
This incensed him further. "No, I'm not!" he exclaimed "That's for getting merried!"
I was now receiving the Death Stare which then turned into a beaming grin as he announced:
"Just call me awesome and the Best in the World!"
My mistake. I must get my compliments right.
Last week he was the proud recipient of an award at school for Excellent Behaviour and Attitude, as was Mr 10. Presumably his teacher's talking doesn't give him a headache. Hmph. Meanwhile, we will have to see if the great saga of Conan the Librarian continues tomorrow. This is referring to the shool's library teacher whom he is TERRIFIED of. Interestingly, Mr 10 was also terrified of her a few years ago when he started attending the school. Bloody librarians. Why do they have to be such terrifying creatures? I should know since I used to pretend to be one some yearsdecades ago and clearly I'm frightfully scary. BOO!
Tuesday is Mr 5's library day. Typically he starts announcing that he might be sick in the morning on Monday nights. We shall see. I'm trying to decide whether I need to talk to someone at the school if his terror of Tuesdays continues unabated.
In other exciting news, I managed to venture out of the house, blinking confusedly in the sunshine, to meet a real person who is my real life friend, Kim ( I have at least one, surprisingly), for brunch last Tuesday. Following this,we did a bit of shopping and oohing and ahing at over priced clothes I can't afford and that wouldn't fit me worth a damn anyway. I did manage to score two five dollar skirts which were originally priced at $89.95 each, according to the tags. BARGAIN. Then again, I never really wear skirts, especially when it's cold, so maybe I just wasted ten bucks. Oh dear. Wearing skirts generally requires having to shave your legs and wear uncomfortable shoes so that it looks right. However, they are fairly long skirts, so I may be able to manage it. You see how exciting and meaningful my life is?
The next joyful development to occur was when Micky Blue Eyes decided to schlep all the way to Brisvegas aka Brisbane, with Mr 12 and 10 to see the Western Sydney Wanderers lose the Grand Final. Which is a damn shame. They are heading home today. I am hoping that their moods are bearable, otherwise I will be the next one packing my bags and leaving until they get over it. Boys and their balls. Seriously, it's only a game, dudes.
That is all from the Wonderful World Of Nessville for now. Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment. Or not. Totally up to you. Your loss really, if you don't. Where else would you find such entertainment and edge of your seat antics? What was that? Watching paint dry? How rude. Go and watch your paint dry, then. See if I care. Hmph.
Later dudes.
Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.
Have you got anything to say?
The school holidays managed to fly by. We had discussed the possibility of going away somewhere, but in our usual brisk and efficient fashion we never bothered following through and booking something. Micky Blue Eyes schlepped out the Sydney Royal Easter show one day with Mr 12 and 5, while Mr 10 and I stayed home. As tempting as those Dagwood Dogs are, I can take or leave it. With emphasis on the 'leave' part.
The following week I managed to drag the boys out for a picnic with the promise of some Kentucky Fried Crap. Bribery works every time. Erm...I mean..rewards. Ahem..
We spent a lovely couple of hours in the sunshine discussing the boys fervent desire to have a dog. It was decided that our (so far fictional) dog might be named Scruffles or Jeff. However, if we do indeed decide to add a dog to the family, I'm pitching for a female one, just so I can finally have another female in the family even if it is only a dog. I've heard the theory that it's important to have a dog once your children become teenagers so that at least someone is happy to see you. Related: in approximately two months and five days I shall become the proud mother of a teenager when Mr 12 becomes Mr 13. Hold me.
Mr 5 is not always happy to see me as it is. I shudder to think of him being a teenager. Particularly since I shall be approximately 105 by then. In fact, he frequently informs me that I have to leave the room if I want him to get dressed, an arduous procedure which can take an eternity. He already has very firm ideas of what he will and won't wear. When I innocently open my mouth to say the most innocuous of statements, he'll cover his ears and howl "STOP TALKING! You're giving me a headache!!"
God forbid I should try to give him anything resembling a compliment. An exchange from just last night went something like this:
"You're my beautiful boy," I crooned, as I hugged him close.
"NO!" he insisted "that's for when you get merried! I'm NOT beautiful. That's girls when they get merried!"
That's not a typo by the way. That was exactly how he pronounced 'married'.
I smiled and said "Well, you're handsome then."
This incensed him further. "No, I'm not!" he exclaimed "That's for getting merried!"
I was now receiving the Death Stare which then turned into a beaming grin as he announced:
"Just call me awesome and the Best in the World!"
My mistake. I must get my compliments right.
Last week he was the proud recipient of an award at school for Excellent Behaviour and Attitude, as was Mr 10. Presumably his teacher's talking doesn't give him a headache. Hmph. Meanwhile, we will have to see if the great saga of Conan the Librarian continues tomorrow. This is referring to the shool's library teacher whom he is TERRIFIED of. Interestingly, Mr 10 was also terrified of her a few years ago when he started attending the school. Bloody librarians. Why do they have to be such terrifying creatures? I should know since I used to pretend to be one some years
Tuesday is Mr 5's library day. Typically he starts announcing that he might be sick in the morning on Monday nights. We shall see. I'm trying to decide whether I need to talk to someone at the school if his terror of Tuesdays continues unabated.
In other exciting news, I managed to venture out of the house, blinking confusedly in the sunshine, to meet a real person who is my real life friend, Kim ( I have at least one, surprisingly), for brunch last Tuesday. Following this,we did a bit of shopping and oohing and ahing at over priced clothes I can't afford and that wouldn't fit me worth a damn anyway. I did manage to score two five dollar skirts which were originally priced at $89.95 each, according to the tags. BARGAIN. Then again, I never really wear skirts, especially when it's cold, so maybe I just wasted ten bucks. Oh dear. Wearing skirts generally requires having to shave your legs and wear uncomfortable shoes so that it looks right. However, they are fairly long skirts, so I may be able to manage it. You see how exciting and meaningful my life is?
The next joyful development to occur was when Micky Blue Eyes decided to schlep all the way to Brisvegas aka Brisbane, with Mr 12 and 10 to see the Western Sydney Wanderers lose the Grand Final. Which is a damn shame. They are heading home today. I am hoping that their moods are bearable, otherwise I will be the next one packing my bags and leaving until they get over it. Boys and their balls. Seriously, it's only a game, dudes.
That is all from the Wonderful World Of Nessville for now. Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment. Or not. Totally up to you. Your loss really, if you don't. Where else would you find such entertainment and edge of your seat antics? What was that? Watching paint dry? How rude. Go and watch your paint dry, then. See if I care. Hmph.
Later dudes.
Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.
Have you got anything to say?
