All Blogged Out

This week I’m all blogged out. Isn’t that an awful word? When a friend suggested I start a blog I was not enthused. I don’t know if it was because it sounded like hard work, meant more time in front of a computer and less time with the kids or perhaps it was just the name.

But two years later, I have finally relented. I have filed all my published stories on the joys and tribulations of family life, along with images, into my blog. There is also a message board where visitors can suggest ideas.

I’m certainly not computer savvy but, after the past week, I feel like a total IT geek. I also feel like shite. How do IT gurus do this for a living? It just left me feeling like an absolute sloth who doesn’t get out. A sloth with a thumping headache.

After two days of trying to crack the code to insert a “Like” button, I finally did it and promptly came up for air in search of a glass of celebratory champagne. Friends came over for fish and chips which was a welcome break out from the computer. But, during this time, my inbox had been beeping and, just before bed, I went over to check. It was comments on my new blog. But how had they seen it when I hadn’t launched it?!

It turned out after I had cracked the Like button, I’d tried it out, which subsequently showed up in everyone’s newsfeed on Facebook, thereby directing them to my site.

This was not cool. It needed some serious editing before I considered it ready. Staying up till midnight with my thumping headache I finally called it a day and switched off. Except I didn’t switch off. When I did sleep, I was dreaming of Like button codes, gadgets and widgets (another IT word I learnt).

When I woke – all widgeted out - the headache had intensified and I decided this was not healthy. I could even feel a cold coming on. Still, I couldn’t resist checking what was going on in my blog land and was pleased to see popular New Zealand family therapist, tv presenter and author Diane Levy had subscribed and agreed to offer advice from time to time on various subjects.

Since inadvertently launching my blog I’ve tried to stay away from the computer and no longer dream of widgets and codes. It’s all raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens from now on.

Anyhow, if you can be bothered, go to my blog site and check it out: http://kiddykaos.blogspot.co.nz/ and please test the Like button on the way out. After all the trouble you now know it took, it would almost be rude not too. ;)

But you’ll have to excuse me, I need to get away from the computer and rejoin the real world. And, right now, I fancy running across the hilltops with Julie Andrews.

Questions

Whatever happened to “Why is the sky blue?” or “Why is the grass green?” Those are typical childhood questions aren’t they?
So then why has it not occurred to my children to ask these questions and, instead, fire at me the likes of: “Mum, do teachers ever go to the toilet?” or “Do policemen get married?”

“Er yes,” I answered, still perplexed by the last question.

“D’oh!”

“Why is that?”

“Because I want to be a policemen and I don’t want to get married.”

Of course.

Then there’s: “Mum, why are those flies fighting?”

“Oh because they just are!” I’m not ready to explain this one to Master Six-going on Seven – I’m still getting over him asking how the father sheep put the seed in the mother sheep when sheep don’t have hands.

And besides, I was now trying to deal with the disturbing fact that two flies were going at it in my kitchen.

Sometimes it’s just sheer exhausting keeping up with appropriate answers to their bizarre questions – who needs crosswords to get the mind ticking?

But back to why the sky is blue. Why is it by the way? Hang on while I just Google it …

Well that was easy – I hadn’t even typed the word ‘is’ in the search bar when the question came up, making it one of the most frequently asked questions.

Clearly I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. But now I do… I think. The answer wasn’t exactly straight-forward and I imagine I’d rather attempt explaining to a six-year-old why two flies were stuck together than about atmospheric molecules of light.

So now I’m armed with an answer of sorts should they ever think to ask such a simple question but meanwhile I’ll keep fielding the bombardment of eccentric queries coming my way from three curious little minds … whilst adding fly spray to my shopping list.

Chocolate

Did you know you can eat chocolate straight from the freezer?

I didn’t, until last year, approximately three days after Easter.

I’d frozen the leftover chocolate bunnies and eggs to get them out of my sight then, on a rare craving, and because I don’t have junk food in the house, resorted to raiding the downstairs freezer. It certainly was edible - just slightly colder and crunchier.

So that plan didn’t work.

This year, under no such illusions, I simply hid half the kids’ haul around the house. Such was the volume, that its absence went unnoticed. Therefore, I was mostly hiding it from myself.

There’s no way anyone could eat that much chocolate without it having detrimental effects on their health. As it was, Master Seven lost another tooth over Easter. Luckily the tooth fairy found him on holiday but it was a close call. We’d gone away for a couple of nights and I’d taken the other half of the chocolate with us with the intent of palming most of it off to visitors. Trouble was, they had the same plan so we just ended up playing swapsies.

When the tooth came out and he’d finished making a big song and dance night fell but do you think three excited kids, hyped up from too much chocolate and sleeping in the same room were going to sleep?

Exhausted from all the organising, packing and travel I sat up in bed, gripping $1 in reminder and constantly drifting off, only to abruptly be jolted awake from their peels of laughter.

Finally all was quiet and I performed my duty but was woken before 6am by an excited Master Seven waving $1 in my face.

Then came the demands for their chocolate. “Mum, is it morning tea time yet?” they asked at 8am.

To distract them I got them to take some fish over to the elderly neighbours. But this backfired. Our kindly neighbour promptly returned the favour by producing three M&M-filled eggs from her spare room.

The kids came hurtling home, beaming from ear to ear and with the M&Ms rattling like crazy within their hollow eggs. Who was I to rain on their parade? They gutsed them down but, with the fish practically leaping into the boat all weekend, we had plenty to go round. 

It turns out the neighbour had plenty more M&M-filled Easter eggs stored in her spare room too.

I heard the familiar rattling from the other side of the fence and, this time, intercepted them.

We returned home with more chocolate than we left with and, before I had a chance to hide this latest stash, my willpower left me.

Did you know chocolate expires?

Clearly the neighbour has more self-discipline than me and had been holding onto these in her spare room for a long time. Perhaps I should suggest the freezer option?

Personally, I would forgo the freezer. If I’m going to play my own game of hide and seek next time a random binge strikes I’d rather have the prize at room temperature.