FOOD FIGHT!!!

'K, so, when Aiden was five, I made a rather rash promise to him. I said that for his tenth birthday he could have a food fight. I figured he would forget all about it....and the joys of living with an Aspie kid get better and better. They don't forget sh*t!




First day of year 1 he invited his whole class. I had to put the brakes on it and told him to wait. He waited with patience and a diligence I have yet to see in his school work...and this weekend, we had the biggest food fight our 'burb' has ever seen.



We started with pulling a single lolly out of a pile of flour with their teeth, the winner went on a "grudge list" where they could choose the first missile fired and at whom in the final food fight. The second game was a Freddo frog game which involved moving half melted Freddos from one plate to another and back again and then eating them without using their hands.


The third game was spaghetti hair styles. This was hilarious as we had an odd number and hubby had to jump in and help.... he kept complaining the pasta was cold LOL.

This was followed by games such as finding one lolly in a bunch of balloons filled with flour, water, sauce and a combination of all three. There was a sauce flinging targetting game, lemonade roulette and the final game, which was an absolute cracker....

The Jelly Dunk!

Take one big deep plastic container and set 12 packets of red jelly in it. Add a packet of lolly snakes and, when set, whisk with a handbeater (this breaks the snakes up and makes the whole thing look like red vomit, very appealing to boys). Finally, hide an entire 20 pack of Freddo frogs in said jelly and you have the setting for an absolute hoot. The kids had to dunk for frogs with their hands behind their backs. They had ten seconds to pull out as many as they could. And trust me, that stuff was cold! The first round the kids were really tentative, by the second round we had full head dunking and jelly in ears, eyes, mouths!

Then it was time for cake and the final all in brawl! 11 kids, numerous plates of spaghetti, baked beans, custard, flour, macaroons, strawberries, tomatoes, jelly, leftover cake and you have one heck of a big mess....luckily we have chickens and dogs to clean up!

All in it was a fantastic boy party, one that will be talked about for a while. And most importantly? My shyboy got out and partied with the best of them.

Spring is just around the corner, I can nearly feel it!

A Whole Heap o' Hurt

I don't get along with my parents-in-law, in fact we are estranged from A's parents completely. This is through no fault of ours but through the stubborness of two very difficult people. Hubby and I have had to fight our way through the tons of bullshit hefted our way, regularly and with a football sized shovel and still I was never good enough.

There were times he held me while I wept. You see, I get along with pretty much everybody. If I don't like you, I will still treat you with civility. I turn the other cheek so often I only have a tan on one side of my face! All I ever wanted was a M-I-L that I could share our troubles with, maybe a S-I-L that I could have coffee with and share a whole mess of cousins. Even a F-I-L who would show my boys how to do "stuff" and coo over our girl. Instead, I recieved hate, mistrust, rudeness and an ability to cause pain that would make a dentist needle look obselete.

And you know what, I can deal with that. It hurts to be completely ignored when you speak but try that shit on my kids and I will bitch slap you from here until Christmas and don't think you're stopping for Thanksgiving! We were estranged for a few years when the death of A's beloved Grandmother brought us back together as a family. Not for long.

I watched as the P-I-L came over to help with some tree lopping and my M-I-L fawned all over my daughter....while ignoring my three year old son. He sat there with his big brown eyes and a worry on his tiny face because he was getting no attention and I broke. I broke for him, I broke for the years of pain this could potentially cause and I broke for my husband. How two nasty people could produce a loving and caring individual such as my husband is astonishing beyond belief. I know he didn't learn his compassion from them!

Why this lengthy evil P-I-L bashing session?

They live not more than five minutes away from me. Husband and I helped them renovate great whopping swathes of their home. We helped build the bar, refurbish the lounge room, build the rotunda for the spa, the deck for the back of the house, I even painted a mural in their downstairs toilet. Before all of the niceness ended we had great times there. The only way I learnt about A's childhood was from sessions spent with a quiet port around a roaring brazier as stories were swapped. It was insightful and eyeopening but I felt I knew him better.

Yesterday I saw their house for sale in the paper. It has been sold. And my heart hurt. It hurt and it cracked and it broke into a million pieces. Why? Because once they move, we won't know where they will be. It will be the absolute end of one branch of our family tree. Before this, that branch was there but it was diseased and mis-shapen. If only they had of asked or extended a hand, we then could have pruned that branch back into shape. Now, the branch will be gone and there will be no going back.

Try and explain that to a twelve year old who remembers riding the lawnmower with her Pop, a ten year old who needs love and constant reassurance....and a six year old who they don't even know exists and who they don't know his name, his age or even his sex. Go on...just try.

Cin

Boils, Toils and Little Boys

On the 18th of August, 2000 my father was visiting and removing a garden path which he had a particular use for. It was late in the afternoon, a lovely warm winters day and Tony was at work. Every time I moved my dads eyes would shoot up to me and he would ask, with some concern, "Are you OK?" He is sweet and funny and had every right to be concerned since I was pregnant with my second child...very, VERY pregnant. At that time, on that day I was pretty darn sure I was in the early stages of labour. My back was killing me and I was getting regularly short little contractions. He asked if he could take Caitie home with him for a sleep over with him and Nanna Jen and I was happy to oblige.

No less than ten hours later I was in the labour and delivery ward giving my son away. Nope, by that stage I had had enough, the contractions were incredibly painful and I was not doing this any MORE! So I told Jen she could have him, yup, lock, stock and two smokin barrels, he was hers!

Ten years on, I hafta look back and laugh at that early recollection of Aidens birth. I was supremely disappointed I was having another C-section and was dismally aware of what a failure of a real woman I was. Couldn't give birth normal, couldn't breast feed normal...I sucked...and yet, I had one of the fattest and happiest babies of all. He had long roo feet and acted like a koala. His first nickname was Drop Bear because he ate and slept. Placid, content and rarely fractious.

Caitie adored him from the start and we used to sing a song to our boy as he was being bottle fed....

Baby, don't cry

Baby, dont cry

Its alright now

Its alright now

When the world is getting you down

And you don't know what to do

I'll be a friend to call on

I'll be there for you, so

Baby, don't cry
Baby, dont cry
Its alright now
Its alright now...

Her sweet voice always got me.

And then, tragedy hit our family. Aiden was 11 months old and I was diagnosed with Cancer of the tongue. Apparently I was swearing too much (grin) Nine days in hospital with 25% of my tongue removed, a scar from one side of my neck to the other, up and around my ear. But we got through it, just in time to celebrate Aidens first birthday. By that stage he had become a happy, healthy, bubbly bundle of joy who earnt his second nickname, Tootle, for the way he wandered around on his little trike.

And time marches on. This kid has been in the wars like all kids. He fell over in the yard and gouged a hole in his knee which was fine until he visited my Uncles farm and let every bacteria known to man in it. When he got home, the whole knee was hot to the touch and the sore itself was black. It took me sitting on him and Tony holding him down to lance it! And then there was the time he decided to paint the bathroom floor with soap....he jumped out of the bath, looked at his toes as they zoomed past his ears and cracked his chin open on the bath...or when he had croup so badly he was close to dying. His body was fighting for oxygen, he was blue around the mouth and making no sense as his brain was starved with air. I got him to the hospital just in time.

In 2004 we welcomed his baby brother Conor to the world...and these two have been as thick as thieves since. Where there is trouble there is one dark head of hair and one blonde usually hunched over the top of it. Naughtiness is second nature to them, bodily emission jokes are fantastic and when a fit of the giggles comes on, nothing can stop it. Conor still sneaks up into Aidens bed of a night time. Conor fell out one night, hit the floor with a thud that scared the doolies out of the both of them. Now, Aiden makes sure Conor is on the inside of the bunk bed.

School has been hard. After three years of something being "not quite right" we got a diagnosis. Aiden is an Aspergers Kid. He sees the world different to us. Sometimes we have to let go and see the world the same way. He is funny with it though. He won't eat tinned fish because he knows its cat food. You can't tell him any different. He is terrified of deep water and it took two years for him to jump off the diving blocks because he was convinced that the water didn't have a bottom. He has the attention span of a gnat. But when something catches him, it catches him hard and fast. He loves researching the weather and loves trains.

And he loves his girl. She is his best friend at school and these two are stuck at the hip. A is naughty, sassy, spunky and full of fun. And A loves him dearly (though she won't admit it). She mothers him like a Mother Duck, tucks his shirt in and makes sure he has everything. They are so sweet. She hugs me when she sees me and I love her to bits because she sees past Aidens problems to the fantastic person he is inside.

And now he is ten! He comes out with the funniest things. Calls his sister Miss Fersnickety. He makes me laugh and hurts my head all at the same time. I hate it when he gets frustrated because I can't help him. I have to stand back and let him fall and then be there to pick up the pieces. I have to teach him to control his wildfire temper. I have to be there to make sure he doesn't let it go and accidently hurt someone, usually Caitlin. Its a tough road, paved with stones but occasionally? We'll hit a stone with a hidden gem.

Happy Birthday Sweet Boy!

Boys and Body Odour

Yep, I'm going there, into the green misty world of the foul and fetid.

As well as issues with #2's, A also has a severe intolerance for dried fruit....which he has used to devastating effect.

Not long ago the kids had a mixed bag of dried fruit and nuts with their school lunch and A had around three prunes. They gave him gas that bad that the flowers in my garden went out in sympathy. Our air quality was seriously affected. His dad went off at him because A quite often dropped and ran. So, A then broke into the fridge and stole more prunes just to prolong the agony! Devious little mite he is.

Anyway, I bumped into his teacher at school the other day and Mr G told me he had a problem with A.

Me: Yes, what now...*sigh*
Mr G: He's farting.
Me: Well he does have some issues with certain foods......
Mr G: No, you don't understand, I don't mind if he takes himself outside and farts its just...well
Me: What? (looking puzzled)
Mr G: Umm, he dropped one, went outside and locked all the windows and doors and told his class mates to "Enjoy it boys."

I had to turn away. I had to slap my hand over my stupid mouth because I was in danger of erupting into fits of giggles.

His father was quite proud...*sigh*

Cindy

Big Fish Little Fish

I am a member of a Dog Obedience club and, without bragging, I could say I am one of the "Big Fish" there. By that I mean that I am the Equipment Officer, I'm an Instructor in both Obedience and Agility and I get to wear a funky club shirt. Its a big deal. It means that the new people listen to me, they come to me for advice and listen when I give it. I kow the ins and outs of the club, have my own keys, occassionally get to yell at people and know people and their dogs by name...they also know me by name.

I am also a trainee Judge for Shorthair cats. As a trainee judge, it means I am a little fish....actually, I am krill. And thats really hard to deal with. I have to be the one listening, showing respect, curbing my personality and being someone totally different than I normally am.

It is so darn hard! Actually, you know what it reminds me of? Grade 7....when you are the head of the school, you can pick on the little kids and you are a god...then you hit high school and you are an amoebe. A germ I tells ya! Its a whole new world full of watching your p's and q's and learning how to handle yourself.

Unlike high school however, I get to be a Big Fish twice a week. So, I reckon its worth it.