Fish Love Wish Comes True

One fish. Two fish. Love fish.

After a near disaster and a family meeting discussing the various aspects of a fish tank built for one becoming the home to two finned creatures it was decided. A trip to the pet store was in order.

Before leaving, I was completing some jobs around the place and realised that Just 3 was very quiet. This was cause for concern as it never ends in a positive outcome. To find him folding the washing or making dinner would be a treat. Even drawing quietly would be a godsend. Unfortunately this is never the case and I knew mischief was afoot.

Now 6 politely informed me that Just 3 had told him he wasn’t allowed to go into his own room. Yes, well. That means that this is the site of the indiscretion.

We entered to find Goldy (when we were able to locate her) attempting to breathe her way through the water which didn’t really resemble water anymore. Thankfully she was still in the tank but it was filled with debris which made it difficult to see anything. Just 3 had decided to feed the fish. The. Entire. Container.

The rescue mission was launched while much flipping and flapping ensued. Goldy wasn’t too keen on the process either. Eventually she was returned to fresh water in the hopes that she would survive such an ordeal.

We were eventually able to leave for the pet shop. Now 6 was after a mate for his new friend. As we travelled, my concern lay in the fact that we might be purchasing a replacement rather than an addition. I did keep these thoughts well and truly to myself though.

We went straight to the aquariums at the back of the store to have a gander before enlisting the help of an unsuspecting salesperson. We looked at all the different kinds of fish and talked about which ones we could get and afford. Do you know how much some fish cost? I wasn’t keen on flushing $25 down the toilet.

 We talked to a saleslady and I managed to contain my smirk as we discussed the need for Goldy to have a friend so she wasn’t lonely. My thoughts kept wandering to the fact that Goldy would meet her mate for the first time every 3 seconds as she made another pass. I also restrained myself from asking the lovely lady how many times she’d heard the name Goldy in her 20 odd years of owning their store.

Eventually the selection was made and we walked to the counter with the newest addition to our family in hand. The lady asked Now 6 what he was going to call his fish and I swear there was an upwards curl to the corners of her mouth. My mind kept going back to whether Goldy would even be alive when we returned.

two fish

She was and still is and so it is with much pomp and ceremony that I introduce to you Goldy’s mate: BLACKY.

It was an odds on favourite from the beginning.

Love is in the water!

P.S. Yes, Ionia we can now add ‘mind reader’ to my list of skills and abilities. I obviously know my son or just kids in general. Mind reader might be a bit of a stretch come to think of it.

I’d Love an Explanation

girl toddler cryingPlease explain love to me.

Life makes me smile and laugh often. Until recently I had just forgotten to listen. Eavesdropping on life’s little moments warms the cockles of the heart.

In the school grounds I heard a child crying. It didn’t sound like the type of cry that’s normally attached to a tantrum. Just crying. Incessantly.

As my boys and I saw the little girl come into sight, we watched as she walked holding her mum’s hand; still crying incessantly. She wouldn’t have been much over 2. Next to her was her older brother who would be about 10. Another boy of about the same age was also walking with them. As we passed there was a brief exchange between the two boys.

‘Why is your little sister crying?’

‘I dunno.’  Pause  ‘Little kids just do that. There’s no other reason. They just do.’

‘Oh.’

Hearing these two young boys discuss the logic or reasoning for the onset of tears made me laugh inwardly on many levels. I wondered if the friend had any younger siblings or whether he, himself, was the youngest. It amused me that ‘just because’ resolved the issue as far as they were concerned and the need to delve deeper was not present. It got me to thinking, if this exchange took place between two girls of the same age would the conversation have been as brief? Would they have gone on to decipher the cry and list all the logical reasons as to why it might be occurring in the first place? Credit to the older brother though, in not identifying this as a trait of little girls-just little kids in general-or did he make an assumption based on his experience?

This simple dialogue is shared between adults the world over. In my mind’s eye I pictured these two boys as men discussing their own children, beer in hand, and the actual spoken words would not change too much from that of a 10 year old boys that they were. On the other hand, we ladies-while sharing a coffee-would list, analyse, dissect, suggest, advise, sympathise and offer assistance.

I’m just a stereotypical mum of two. What would I know?

If anyone has a better explanation, I’d love to hear it.

Kelly

Image from: here.

Fish Love Wish

goldfish

I’d love to be a goldfish

and swim around all day.

My humble home for one

here is where I’ll stay.

I could do just what I like

which is nothing much at all.

Except for when you’re watching

that’s when I have a ball.

But you’re not here that often

you’ve got better things to do.

Would you possibly consider

turning this one into a two?

I think I’d like a buddy,

to frolic with and play.

To dash and dive and dance with

and chase my cares away.

I’ve thought about this often

when I’m on the dash.

One more lap around the bowl

I’ll be back in just a flash.

I’d love to be a goldfish

and swim around all day.

My humble home for one

here is where I’ll stay.

A goldfish has entered the house of love after being bestowed upon Now 6 for his birthday. She has been given the title of Goldy (thank you creators of Peppa Pig for your ingeniousness). My son’s seemingly total lack of creative flair in naming our pets has landed us with Bluey (the blue budgie) in 2012 and now Goldy the goldfish. To confuse matters more we have a Golden Retriever whose name is not Goldy but is lovingly referred to as Golden Girl now that she is in her twilight years.

If/when we decide to get a cat it must be multi-coloured so that it doesn’t get called Blacky or some such other nonsense. I’d rather be outside calling ‘Rainbow’ and sounding like a total nut job.

Whether Goldy gets a mate is up for debate. We picked the first one so that the bowl wouldn’t be an empty gift. ‘Yay! I got a bowl with nothing in it!’ A second trip to the pet store might be in order. What’s the bet he’ll come home with a Blacky?

Who knows? Maybe the fish will have a renaming ceremony sometime soon. I just hope this happens before we have to flush the poor mite. Never mind. At least I don’t have to call it to come back to its bowl.

Something’s fishy with love.

© Kelly Hibbert 2013

Image from: here.

Can I Use Your Loo, Luv?

toiletThere might not be much love in the littlest room in the house but there’s plenty of humour.

Note before reading: Just 3 is still in toilet training mode. The potty is gone and using the big toilet calls for reinforcements. As much of a fan I am of cleaning other people’s urine (the mini Masters’) off the floor I would rather use that time for other endeavours. With this in mind we have invested in two ping pong balls. One is a basketball and the other: a soccer ball. One bobs around in the bowl of each toilet in our home so that no matter which toilet is free or whichever Just 3 is closest to when nature calls he can, ready, AIM, fire! at the ball.

Family had gathered at ours recently for a celebration. During this time beverages of the alcoholic variety were consumed and trips to the smallest room in the house began, myself included. Once they start there is a constant parade of people in and out, flushing, wiping and washing.

Mum pulled me aside after a brief pit stop and politely informed me that she had removed the ball from the toilet thinking that Just 3 had put it in there. I thanked her, explained and then dropped it back in.

I daren’t ask anyone who went into retrieval mode how they completed their mission.

Have you reclaimed something from your own toilet that really wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place? Ever had an experience while at someone else’s home? You might like to add a ping pong ball to the toilet at your next party. Even the Misters like to hit the target, apparently.

Ping pong anyone?

Image from: here.

Mother Lover

In a single moment today,  the next 20+ years flashed before my eyes. Opening with caution, I suspected something might jump out at me. Little did I know that it would contain………..

Until I awoke this morning I had planned to write a wonderful, heart warming post for my mum. It may have only been read by her as the reader would be bombed throughout the day with ‘Mum’ posts but she would be the only must-have reader today.

Instead I opened my eyes to Just 3 and Almost 6 laden with gifts and my OH with breakfast and a cuppa in hand. Surrounded by my family I opened my presents. I marvelled at Almost 6’s choice of gifts from the Mother’s Day stall they’d had at school on Friday. Of course this was bought with our money but, hey, I loved it all the same. I feigned surprise at the new oven gloves, pot holders and jumper I had bought myself. My inner smirk was hiding the fact that Just 3 was with me when I purchased them and did not question why my mouth was agape.

The absolute kicker, which is why I decided to change my post, was the card that Just 3 gave me.

I cried.

I cried tears not of happiness.

I cried tears not from heartfelt love.

I cried tears of laughter.

Shock, fear and the reality of the promise being issued forth rendered me speechless. Everyone joined in the laugh-fest even if they were asking themselves ‘what’s so funny anyway?’

Visions of death-defying stunts flashed through my mind. Visits to the Principal’s office and hospital stays will probably be a given. Girlfriends ringing at every hour of the night and a pisty needing to be picked up on more than one occasion. The police knocking at the door to tell that you’ve done………that’s where I draw the line.

And don’t forget, I may be your mother and will do many eye rolls, deep sighs and cussing over the next 2o years, but I can also give as good as I get.

You ain’t seen nothing yet!

Love is a Highway

Love on speed.

I like to think I’m in the driver’s seat when it comes to love.

Zipping around the city, I sail through intersections because the lights are all green. Places to get to, take a back street and find a park first time around the block.

fast lane

Around the suburbs, I wave to people as I pass. I always let others go ahead of me when they’ve been waiting to join the flow. I’m at ease now as home is so close. In familiar territory, I dodge potholes and manhole covers, knowing every curve of the road.

Out on the open road, the cruise control’s set and life is good. I’ve got the window down and the sun shimmers on the flat stretches. Only the occasional road train buffets my vehicle and forces me to grip just a little bit tighter to keep on course. Escape is only a short distance from here.

Skid to a stop. End daydream.

Weekdays are my city street and I loathe it with every fibre of my being. Rush here. Stop there. Dodge couriers on bikes and pedestrians with a death wish. The hum and pulse raise my own. Stop again. Gridlock on the freeway is tantamount to torture and then there’s peak hour. There’s little time for love.

Weeknights are the road to home. Tail lights glow and then disappear as each car carries its cargo home to be reunited with love.

Weekends are the road less travelled. These are the times when I like coasting, drinking in the sights and soaking up every detail of the world around me. Spending every moment coasting with the pedal off the gas even though we’re being propelled forward to the inevitable start of the weekday rush again.

The speed of love on the super highway.

Image from: here.

Love Leaves and Then Comes Again

I fought to the death
With courage and strength from birth
I am not forgotten
But returned to the earth.

Scattered, withered, lifeless
Until picked up on a breeze
Thrown heavenward by little hands
Do with me what you please.

No need to show remorse
Please don’t shed a single tear
Just remember me as I was
Until I’m back next year.

The Autumn leaves have fallen.

leavesDuring Autumn the foliage turns the most amazing hues. Crimson, amber, copper, lime and blush. Watching the kids bundle them up, throw them into the air and then start all over makes me laugh.

The crunch of leaves underfoot as you walk along reminds me of rustling paper. Some are just that; paper thin and fragile.

The only part about Autumn I don’t care for much is the fact that it signals the imminent onset of another Winter. We’re not friends-to say the least.

We watch as that last leaf zigzags it’s way to the floor below; it has re-joined all those that fell before it. The promise of Spring and new life, just around the corner.

What is it that you love about Autumn?

Falling in love.

Image from: here.

I’m Busy Loving You

bees

I love being busy.

Busy is as busy does. Buzzing here, humming there, zooming, zooming everywhere.

We mamma bees really know how to make that honey. We buzz around incessantly all day doing the worker bee job. Then there’s the pollination to attend to and making sure the hive is kept in order. I wonder how many flowers a bee alights on each day. Too many to count I’m sure.

I remember my mum chatting with friends over a coffee (does anyone with littles have time to do that now?) talking about how busy the week had been with a smile on her face. It was a good busy. Not a flat-out, crazy busy that we seem to exist in now. Busy seems to be an obsolete word these days. Maybe not defunct but cannot exist alone anymore. ‘Busy’ has had its day and has been replaced with chaotically busy, super busy and insanely busy. Do we really need an adjective in front of the verb?

We are all busy. Sure, there’s different levels to it and some weeks are more busy than others. We learn to adapt quickly to the changing needs of our work, family, social and personal. I have a busy week coming up. It’s not a normal week of normal busy. There’ll be some late nights, extra demands put on my time, etc. Almost 6 will be turning 6 (and then he’ll be known as Now 6).

I have plans. All that can be done beforehand will be checked off the list. I refuse to spend the lead up to his big day of the year in a constant tizzy. I won’t run around telling everyone who dare listen how astronomically busy I’ve been. I will need to fine tune a few of my personal goals for this coming week though. My busy behind won’t be dropping in to the reader as often to ask, ‘what’s the buzz?’ My posts have already been done and scheduled and it might take me a little longer than the length of time it normally takes me to reply to comments to get back to everyone. There’ll be no droning on next week. It’ll be head down and stinger up.

Too busy for love? Not likely!

Kelly ♥

Image from: here.

Wishy-Washy Love

A splash of love.20130502_184034

I have some confessions to make. I’ve held back these dirty little secrets for far too long. It’s time to bare all.

For those of you who’ve been around here once or twice before you may remember me mentioning about my choice not to post photos of my boys.

Most of these same people also know that my posts have become more padded with words than when I first began. I love a good analogy and metaphors are my mates. To suggest that I can talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles would be a fair assumption. Heck if laptops were waterproof I’d probably type there too.

It would also be safe to say that I’m getting into the comfort zone of my relationship with my WP family. This blog will still be all about the love and won’t become an online photo journey of my beautiful boys. They just really wanted to say ‘hi’ so I am going to keep the yabbering to a minimum tonight and let Almost 6 and Just 3’s images do the talking.

20130502_183938The dirty duo love a bath like most kids. They motor boats around the bath, blow bubbles and all the other assorted things that kids enjoy doing at bath time (except getting clean). I never really understood why houses had drains on the floor outside of the tub until I had kids. Sure they’re really there for major water overflow to stop the house from flooding. What I don’t understand now is why my two need to try and test that principle every time they get in to get clean. If I need an excuse to clean the bathroom from the ceiling to the floor, I just chuck the kids in there. They supply the water: me, the cloth.

When they’re not splashing it up they’re fooling around. What else is bath time for when you are a little. Rubber duckie, move over. Give my kids an empty plastic bottle and they’re golden!

Love the wash antics.

Love is the Pits

Making a pit stop for love.

It is customary that my boys and I make at least one trip to the school playground each week after the bell. On our way to the playground Almost 6 tells me how the boys launch themselves from the rail at the top of the slide and land with a thump on their bottoms about half way down. There’s also reluctant confessions about the chasey games they play at break times. While Almost 6 has had ample time to monkey his way across the obstacle course throughout the course of the day, this little pit stop allows Just 3 to tire himself out: climbing, sliding, swinging and jumping and sometimes falling.

monkey barsLast week I had the opportunity to sit for a couple of minutes while the kids did their thing. I watched from a distance as Just 3 wanted to do everything himself. A little boy, probably 6 or 7, shouted back to his mum, ‘watch me, Mum!’ While turning to smile at the other mother in that knowing way, I thought to myself, ‘make sure you keep watching otherwise you’ll get dragged over hot coals by your son if you don’t see his amazing accomplishment.’ He proceeded to get himself up onto the top of the monkey bars as I’ve watched Almost 6 and thousands of other children do many-a-time. I willed her to show enthusiasm and wide-eyed astonishment when he mastered the manoeuvre he was attempting. ‘Please act like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen such a feat in all your life,’ I prayed. Ok, honestly, I didn’t pray but these little things are so important to our little ones….well I’m sure you get my drift.

Boy then draped his legs over the bar in front of him, placed his hands strategically then lowered his body down between the bars and let go. Hanging upside down, his hair stood on end and his shirt slipped down over his face. ‘Look, Mum! I did it!’ he said triumphantly as he tried to pull his shirt back down (or up depending on which way you want to look at it).

“OW! MY PIT how to categorise S! MUM, IT”S HURTING MY PITS! CAN YOU GET ME DOWN? IT’S KILLING MY LEG PITS!

The other mum’s on her way over while I start to laugh out loud. Leg pits? Well I never!

It’s all I can do to stop chuckling between breaths. I guess in theory this would be a good name for the backs of our knees. We have armpits after all. Why not leg pits? They do get sweaty and they have a kind of hollow to them. Best put deodorant on them after showering in future.

As for the other mother, I’m not sure if she knewmy laughter. I best be careful or Mums will start realising their kids are just fodder for my next piece of writing. I guess I won’t have to worry about being invited for a play date though!

If you’re stuck for things to write about, can I suggest you take your kids to a playground. It’ll be a win/win. Your kids will burn off some extra energy and you just never know what you’ll hear while you’re there. Maybe just don’t laugh too loud.

‘Boys are it.

Chuck ’em in the pit.

All the girls will

kiss them on the lips.’

The pit of love.

Image from: here.

Talk About Love

grumpyI love to talk.

As some of you aware I’ve nicknamed Mondays Momdaze’ now.

I’m normally in somewhat of a fog and need a giggle or two to get me through the day. It seems that Just 3 was aware of this fact this morning after we had dropped Almost 6 at school. We arrived home and I was about to commence my happy dance after getting Just 3 out of the car.

He crossed his arms, put on one of his best grumpy faces and stated,

‘I not talking to you anymore Mum.’

Allow me to clarify at this point that I had done nothing to be in receipt of this kind of threat.

My response, ‘Oh well! It’s going to be a pretty quiet day then.’

2 second pause……..’Mum.’

This was my first giggle for the morning. It will be a pretty quiet day here regardless. Hopefully, though, the grumpies will disappear and we can recommence smiles and giggles for the rest of the day.

I’d love to chat but I’m off to find more funnies. I’ll talk to you later. Promise!

Image from: here.

Love’s on Vacation

Anyone got a spare room in some exotic location? Or maybe you could recommend somewhere to sun-soak and take in the sights? I don’t take up much space. Heck, I’d even take the couch if that was on offer!

After the holidays I’ve had I need a vacation! They (whoever they are) say time flies when you’re having fun. Well this school holidays seem to have been longer than the 6 week break over Summer. Maybe it’s the impending approach of Winter. Attempting to ensure Just 3 stops play to empty his bladder instead of enjoying the warm waterfall feeling until the wind blows or mummy blows her top might be the root of the cause. Having to constantly umpire the tussle and roughhousing that is boys has taken it toll.

It seems that my love for my boys took a bit of a holiday. I became introspective for a while and delved deep into my psyche. The usual love lectern, from which I impart great knowledge of nothing of substance, was abandoned.

The ghost of holidays past visited me this April. Term break has, for me, always been a chance to catch up or, heaven forbid, get ahead. To find my centre, sleep in and catch my breath.  I like to have all my ducks-in-a-row and not the rubber kind either.

In retrospect I am searching for the highlights of the last 16 loooong days. Here they are, in no particular order:

    • Almost 6 had two sleepovers (one at his Uncle’s and another at his Nan’s) both of which he had to be picked up from. One at 11.30pm and the other at 9.30pm. Sleepovers at relatives had been successfully achieved on prior attempts.
    • We’ve visited an abundance of local playgrounds. The kids have had a blast. I, on the other hand, will be happy if we don’t visit a playground for several weeks.
    • Some odd jobs got done around the place and ticked off the list. The list still contains about 50 incomplete tasks.
    • We’ve caught up with relatives, broken bread, partied like it’s 1999 at a 6th birthday party and been to a play date that nightmares are made of.
    • My ironing basket is empty (almost) and the Peppa Pig DVD survived the relentless spinning.

Tomorrow will feel like I’m on vacation. My heart might still wish it was wandering around a luscious rainforest or basking on an island off the coast of Fiji. The Maldives are nice at this time of year, I hear. My brain, however, will be mentally planning the Winter holiday survival guide while I live the life I love.

I’m back peoples and I’m packing (my sunscreen, togs and a whole lotta love)!

Kelly

Love the Logic of Kids

I love a logical connection.logic

Ok folks it’s Monday and I’m not one that likes to exist in a maudlin state. So I’m going to be seeking out the humour to bring you at the beginning of each week. My hope is to leave you smiling on Momdaze. Some will feature from the mouths of my own lovelies, some will be stolen from work and others pilfered from the public at large.

Some people read magazines at the supermarket checkout. I love observing and listening to snippets of people’s lives. Call it eavesdropping or whatever else you may. I refer to it as express lane escapism.

Recently I overheard a conversation between a mum, and what I assumed to be, her son. He would have been between 3 and 4. It went a little something like this:

‘Mum, vegetable oil comes from vegetables doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, they take the oil from lots of vegetables and put it into bottles.’

‘So peanut oil would come from peanuts?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ (Mum looks pretty proud of her son).

‘And so that means orange oil is squeezed from oranges and olive oil is made from olives?’

‘Uh-huh.’

At this point child begins to cry with such instant force that he attracts the attention of not only his mum. Once he’s in his mother’s reassuring arms he begins to calm enough to ask between sobs, ‘So that means they squeeze all the oil out of babies to make baby oil?’

Image from: here.

Childhood Memory of Love

memoriesLove in the memory bank.

Fond memories endure the test of time. They may be triggered by an action, seeing a photo or a certain fragrance. Sometimes they are embellished over the years because the story has been recounted many times and the brain seeks to add new details or enhance the precious moment. As we grow older we need these memories to offset the ones that are held onto but locked away.

Childhood is where the best memories are made. Carefree times that we recall with fondness for the rest of our years. Most adults will be able to identify special occasions, events or milestones from when they were around 5 years and up. Some even have recollections from a younger age.

Just 3 frequently has me in stitches or ready to ring his neck when he says, ‘I can’t member.’ This is normally the answer given when asked where his shoes are, did he put his toys away or when he saw something last. Of course this is generally accompanied with the ‘I don’t know’ shrug with palms facing upwards. Yes, the sky will drop that little titbit you should have remembered into your wee brain.

Sometimes I think about the fact that in the future Just 3 will remember nothing about the past three years. This gives me some solace when I think about the times that I have had a moment I’d like to forget. Almost 6 is in the process of making concrete memories for life. I know he’ll see me at my worst at times but I plan on helping them both make lifelong memories they’ll cherish.

A treasured memory I still have of my own childhood was spending Sunday afternoons down at the ducks. There was a creek right next to our house that fed into a lake with a fountain. We’d walk alongside the creek then feed the ducks and geese that lived at the lake along with your token local birdlife who knew a good thing when they were onto it. We’d take the crusts from the loaves of bread we’d used during the week and feed our feathered friends. If Mum or Dad allowed, we’d be given extra time to look for tadpoles at the edge of the creek on the way back. Sometimes we returned empty handed, often with an old jam jar with tadpoles inside. When our catch turned into frogs my sister and I would return them to their home. Many a Summer featured frogs in our backyard pool who had migrated from the creek.

Being school holidays here at the moment the kids and I are all home together. No school for Almost 6 and no teaching for me. So last week I tadpolesthought would be a good opportunity to share some of my childhood memories with my boys. Instead of telling them an ‘I remember when I was your age’ story I thought we could recreate my memory to pass onto them by doing it together.

We live about 15 minutes from where I grew up and the boys have fed the ducks many times. Last week we took a picnic lunch and then the boys played on the playground. As we walked the length of the creek back past the home I lived in from 2 years old to 19, I chatted with the boys about things I used to do down here.

As I played back the reel in my mind I also uncovered memories that I had forgotten about. Walking in my own footsteps, now as an adult, enabled me to recall friends I had, boys I’d kissed and long, lazy, carefree days spent here. Coming home with wet shoes, getting home late and being ‘told off’ and near drenched from head to toe on probably more than one occasion.

The day with my boys afforded me to chance to reflect with a smile. I shook my head and smirked at Almost 6 when he slipped, went down on his bum and got wet up to his knees. I sternly repeated a warning to Just 3 not to go too close to the edge. We squatted and looked, we searched and we prodded. All three of us held hands when we crossed the road and we dangled our legs off the bridge, swinging them back and forth.

Almost everything was the same as it had once been. The willow trees brushed the ground to leave arcs of exposed soil. The distant sound of traffic no match for the wildlife. And I saw the me I used to be. The bridge was smaller, the walk not as long and the ducks not as many. But to my boys it was just like it was for me as a kid. I lived and loved through their eyes that day.

My one hope is that we made a memory they will hold dear. We might need to do it again to just to make sure it’s firmly implanted for a lifetime. The plan is to go at the start of Summer. We might even catch some tadpoles next time.

What is the fondest memory you can recall from your childhood?

Love and cherish remaking memories.

Images from: here and here.

Love-Filled Home

quote

My home is filled with love….

and noise,

and fun,

and chaos,

and nuts,

and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

What’s your home filled with?

Image from: here.