Mud and Cocktails

When I signed up to accompany Master Ten and his classmates on a school trip to Matakohe-Limestone Island I admit it was with some trepidation. 

Spending over five hours on a deserted island with 60 kids and a rain forecast is not my idea of fun. Give me a tropical island and swim-up cocktail bar any day.

But Friday dawned with the sun out and so I drove four excitable boys, who insisted on turning rap music up loud on my stereo, down to the Onerahi Foreshore where we wait to board the boat.

Emma arrives shortly after and takes us over in three boat-loads. Emma and her husband Jono and two young sons are the new rangers and residents of the island who welcome visitors to their abode where they share their knowledge of the island and its history.

Seven-year-old Charlie, must’ve heard the spiel a thousand times before, for his dad’s introduction is interspersed with snippets of impressive knowledge called out by Charlie.

My first observation is the island is beautiful. It looks nothing like it does from the mainland. We set off past the cement ruins and broken down buildings that used to sleep the workers, into the bush to plant trees. Be careful, warns Jono, for it is very muddy.

We start up the track and it soon becomes apparent why we were told to wear gumboots. Up until today it has been raining hard - our shoes are submerged into the thick gooey mud and I am unimpressed. I am not a fan of mud or sliding around in it for that matter. We skid our way up into the bush and, in our teams of four, begin digging the holes for the new trees. Only, because the island is made of Limestone, this is a lot harder than it looks. My team of boys soon give up for a game of tag and leave me jumping up and down on a shovel trying to make a dent in the earth. Eventually and after I have rounded up the AWOL boys, we have planted four trees and make our way back to the track.

This is where the craziness begins. Getting up the track was one thing but sliding down without arsing up is another. It is crazy-town as kids skid around having an absolute ball, while the parents, such as myself, who aren’t wearing the right attire, look on in horror gripping tree trunks for dear life.

Some of us manage to make it back down relatively unscathed before we head back to base for lunch.

Away from the mud, I am back in my happy place, eating my lunch in the sunshine looking out at the scenic view and am quite happy to call it a day and board the boat back when there is one more surprise in store. We are to walk to the top of the island to the pa site.

Oh no, not more mud, I think and reluctantly get off my perch. We walk up, and up, and up and then I look back over my shoulder and stop in my tracks. The view from the top of Limestone Island is amazing. One would never know, looking out from the mainland, just how picturesque it is. How lucky the former residents back in the day were to live in such a place. 

The kids of course, moaned all the way up, then shot back down without taking in a thing while the adults drank in the scene before them, stopping to take pictures along the way.

Despite the mud, I was pleasantly surprised by this piece of paradise on our back doorstep. But still, after I dropped the four still-hyperactive boys back at school, I admit, with that tropical island swim-up bar still in mind, I carried on straight to the wholesalers.

Stairway to Super Nanny Heaven

The ‘naughty corner’ or ‘thinking spot’ has long been a winner for frazzled parents since its introduction by the Super Nanny in the early 2000s.

Back in my day, although being sent to my room meant unwelcome solitude, there were still plenty of toys to play with to keep me entertained.

But in the confines of a boring old corner at the other end of the house, surely all one can do is think about their behaviour?

Whatever they spend their time there doing, it worked for us and, once we moved house, the naughty corner became the naughty stair – the bottom step of the lower staircase in the darkest, coldest recess of the house. They didn’t need long there to learn their lesson.

These days, however, the ‘naughty stair’ has become the ‘attitude stair’ and, although it certainly isn’t kept warm, one child, in particular spends a small amount of time on it. It can’t be pleasant sitting down there in the cold, dark and facing the front door where visitors might come in and ask what they are doing sitting there. Oh the shame of it!

This morning, though, I thought about including the ‘sulking stair’ – the next step up. One, who shall not be named, was particularly sulky before school this morning and when I suggested this addition, they snapped right out of it and even left for school with a smile.

This gave me an idea: why, I could have a step named after every single unsavoury behaviour! There could be the ‘grumpy stair’, the ‘annoying stair’, the ‘whinging stair’, the ‘noisy stair’, the ‘hitting stair’, the ‘lazy stair’, the ‘messy stair’, the ‘didn’t eat your dinner stair’, the ‘ganging up on your siblings stair’, the ‘teasing about boyfriends/girlfriends stair’ … Perhaps I could even label each one so we remember which is which. It could be like a front entrance feature for our guests. I’m sure it would be original. My kids are pretty arty so I could even get them involved in designing a placard for each one. Then they could own it – that would work, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps I could even create the ‘Mummy stair’ for myself to show I am taking it seriously … or is that taking it too far?

I’m not sure what happened to the Super Nanny, she seems to have dropped off the radar but I wonder what she would think of my idea?

I will keep you posted on the outcome of this little experiment … Now to await the kids’ return from school and any naughty behaviour …

Bath Time Freak Show

Many a mummy finds solace simply by paying a visit to the bathroom in peace. This in itself can be an achievement with little rug-rats scratching at the door.

I can safely say those days are long gone for me – well for the most part – and I recently ventured a little further afield and attempted  … a bath …!

It was a cold day, I was tired and a hot bath was sounding enticing. The kids were safely ensconced in their positions on the couch, seemingly engrossed in a movie I had pre-recorded for such an occasion.

I stopped short of candles and wine, time would not be on my side – one has to grab these moments and run with it - but it was a nice, deep bubble bath none-the-less. 

I sank into it and began to relax … 

Then - footsteps …

I opened my eyes to see two more peeking at me through the crack in the door, followed by an excited squeal.

“Mummy’s in the bath!”

The footsteps retreated but louder and at a running pace.

“Mummy’s in the bath!” announced Miss Seven to the boys. “Come and look.”

I prepared myself for what was to come. Sure enough the movie was abandoned as three sets of curious eyes came to look at this astonishing site.

You see, this was THEIR bath – mummy has her own shower and to see mummy in THEIR bath was a rare site indeed.

They piled into the bathroom simultaneously and stood in a line alongside the bath staring down at me with wide-eyed delight like I was some kind of freak show.

“Yes, mummy’s in the bath but show’s over, back to your movie,” I ordered, while trying my best to make sure the bubbles were adequately covering everything.

“Quick, go,” I ushered them out and they reluctantly turned and went.

I started to close my eyes again, then …

“Mum, can I have a bath after you?” asked Miss Seven, returning.

“No, I want to!” said her brother.

“I should – I’m the oldest!” said the other. And so broke out an argument over who should be first in the nice, deep bath.

My five minute’s peace was shattered. Perhaps it was too early for that next step. Looks like I’ll just be hanging out in the loo.