Changing of The Guard - Sans Uterus

I don't know how many times I have said it, but I'll say it again - I'm so glad I do not have a uterus anymore.  I usually utter this sentence upon seeing a divine little newborn human being, as I did yesterday whilst at the local shopping centre.  Andrew was sitting next to me in the hairdressers, whilst we were wrangling the four kids and trying our hardest to keep our shit together whilst one niggled at another, and the four year old was trying desperately to break one of the chairs.  I saw the newborn bundle and my insides ached.  I'm assuming the part that was aching, is the big black hole where once my womb lived?  The same part that grew five (well, only four of them "successfully") human beings.  The part that gave me so much joy, but also so much pain.  Andrew gave me a look when I said it.  You know - THE look.  The "are you fucking crazy" look?

I fear if I still had my uterus I would have continued to churn out babies like nobody's business.  I would have put up with the morning all day sickness, the burst blood vessels in my eyelids from heaving so violently.  I would have gone through the trials and tribulations of gestational diabetes, paying $3 a day for a sugar free chocolate bar, just to get my "fix".  I would have bitched and moaned about how much I hate being pregnant, but in the next breath, declare how thrilled I was to have another baby on the way.  I would have put up with the agony of a shot pelvis.  The embarrassment of having to be pushed around the shops in a wheelchair - for I could not walk longer than 10 minutes without the pain becoming overwhelming.  Yep - I would have gone through all of that, over and over - just for that amazing feeling of elation when you have that gooey, strange little bundle of joy in your arms.

Sigh.

I'm so very thankful, however, that I don't have that option any longer.  My body waved the white flag and I surrendered.  I am so very happy with my tribe.  Only a matter of weeks ago I told one of my best friends that I was happy I did not have to go through the up's and down's of a new baby.  The elation of its arrival, and the deep desperation for sleep.  An hour later, she told me she was pregnant!  Problem solved.  I can live vicariously through my friends.  I am finally the one who can offer to babysit.  I am on the precipice of some form of freedom.

I'm almost on the other side.  2013 will be dishing out time.  For me.  For the first time in more than 14 years, I will have more than a fleeting couple of hours to myself on a regular basis.  In fact - I will have TWO WHOLE DAYS A WEEK!  When this occurred to me a few months ago, I said to Andrew I could pick up some extra work.  And then I found my head and screwed it back on and slapped myself.  Those two days a week are going to be filled with lots of nothing.  I am not planning anything.  I'm winging it!  (Ok, I'm being hopeful, but I really AM planning on doing lots of random shit that is totally unplanned)

So, as I patiently await the arrival of numerous bundles of joy, from a lovely array of friends, I will be busily not planning what I will be doing next year.  I will be filling my diary with play dates, of the grown up variety.  I may finally remember what it is like to go a whole day without having to feed someone else, change the channels constantly and figure out why Barbie's shoes won't stay on or translate Dora's antics!  Hola!!

  

What Water Restrictions?

 Since I can remember, well at least since my second child was born nine years ago, Melbourne has lived through each and every Summer (and most of the year actually) with water restrictions.  There was only watering your gardens on alternate days, washing your car with a bucket of water - no hose, and most unfortunately - no sprinklers allowed!

We have had a bumper year of rain in 2012, which has led to 81% water storage levels!  Which in turn leads to the water restrictions being lifted - hoorah!

Last night, when the kids heard it was going to be 38 degrees today, they were bitching and moaning complaining about how hot they would be, and how would they live?  "Mum, you'll have to pick us up from school, we can't possibly walk home."  "Why don't we have a pool?"  Blah, blah, blah.....   Well, I fixed their little red wagon by announcing I would make a trip to the hardware store in the morning to buy them a sprinkler!

**********crickets***********

"What's a sprinkler???"

Andrew and I then went through describing what a sprinkler was.  I was quite disturbed by the fact that they had no idea what one was, and amused bored them with stories from when I was a girl.....

I remember ALWAYS having a sprinkler within tap's reach to run through on a hot day.  I won't mention that we also always had a pool to run and jump in to.  That is beside my point.  The sprinkler was FUN!  And how about the slip n slide?!?!?!?!  So many injuries gained from running and sliding in all kinds of strange manners down a dodgy hill covered in plastic (and sometimes doused with washing liquid).

So first thing this morning I was met with questions and reminders about how I would be picking them up from school and turning the sprinkler on for them.  I jumped in the car, took them to school and then took Chloe with me to the hardware store.  Straight to the "watering aisle".  And was presented with a wall of these: 

A bit high tech looking for me!

Is this a tractor sprinkler???

Remember these ones??

Ahhh, the old faithful - we had a few of these permanently planted around our yards growing up.

The old soaker hose.....

We chose this one!  Cheap and cheerful!

We made our purchase - along with a couple of big arse fans due to us not having airconditioning downstairs (that's a whole other blog post) and a hose to connect this little baby to!

The remainder of my day was filled with questions from the four year old.  When can I go in the sprinkler?  What time are the kids home?  Why can't I go in the sprinkler now?  Can you put my bathers on?  Well, you get the picture.  Traipsed up to school at 3.30 to do a good motherly deed and pick the two whinging, red faced school children up, and returned home again to never ending questions about when the sprinkler could be turned on.  I gave up at approximately 4pm.

And this is what happened:

 $12.95 for an hour's worth of fun!  Oh and a bonus hour of fun after dinner too!  Not to mention the obligatory "turn the sprinkler on whilst your husband is standing nearby"!!

What are you doing to keep cool this Summer?  Sprinkler?

With freedom comes responsibility...sort of

The freedom that comes with your children wanting to walk home from school by themselves is rather liberating.  There's an extra 30 minutes in my day that I do not have to spend in and out of the car.  I don't have to stop what I'm doing, run around like mad looking for Chloe's shoes and making sure doors are locked and everything's turned off.  I don't have to grab my purse and phone and keys and run through all sorts of inclement weather conditions to make it up our muddy driveway and throw Chloe in to the car.  It's fabulous.

BUT

The responsibility that has now been given to my two middle children is great.  In fact, it's huge.  We practised the walk home a couple of times together before I took a big breath and agreed to their wish of walking home together.  I reiterated the importance of walking briskly towards the main road, so as to make it there whilst the crossing lady was still on duty.  I repeated myself more times than I care to remember, the importance of sticking together and crossing at official crossing points.  And I gave Chelsea the all important role of Key Holder.  She was so very proud that I had enough trust in her to hand her a key to the house.

Now it seems I must have failed in a couple of areas whilst preparing them both for not only walking home by themselves, but also arriving home to an empty house on occasion, when I have not yet returned home from work.  I DID tell them they had to call me as soon as they walked in the door, so I know they're safely home.  I DID tell them they are to lock the door behind them, and do not answer it for ANYONE.  Apparently, I did not make it clear that they weren't to take any detours on their way home.  And apparently, asking Chelsea if she has her house key as we are leaving in the morning, and her answering "yes", does not necessarily mean she has it.....as demonstrated this afternoon.

Last week, I was patiently waiting for my 4pm phone call from the kids.  I had just been telling a work mate about how well they were doing at their new school, and how they had been so very responsible.  4.05 came and went, so I called home.  No answer.  4.15 came and went, so I called home.  By the time they finally answered the phone at 4.25 I was less than amused and had quite frankly started having a little panic in the pit of my stomach.

Me: Cadyn, where have you guys been?

Cadyn: Ummmmm, I got kept back in class.

Me: For half an hour??

Cadyn: Ummmmmm, yeh.

I had a quick word with him about how worried I was and left it at that, for the time being.  I spoke with Andrew whilst we were both driving home from work and we both agreed someone was telling a porky pie.....

After dinner, we sat them both down and Andrew began his version of the Spanish inquisition.  He basically asked why on earth they took almost one hour to get home?

Cadyn:  Ummmm, I got kept back in class and blah blah blah blah blah....

Andrew and I spot the strange look on Chelsea's face, and at this point, Andrew holds his hand up to Cadyn, swiftly turns to Chelsea and asks "What happened Chelsea?"

Chelsea:  We stopped at the park on the way home for a play......

*****Crickets*****

The silence was then swiftly followed by many examples of what could happen to them whilst taking an unscheduled detour, without anyone knowing.  Nothing like a bit of scare tactics to make sure they get the point?  Takes stranger danger to a whole new level!

SO what did we learn from this exercise?  Well, I learnt that my kids are still quite naive.  Which is both a good and bad thing.  We never like to believe that our kids are growing up, but just when you accept they are, they do something that makes you realise they are still just babies.  I also learnt that they have not memorised any important phone numbers!  Whilst I was worried about some evil pervert snatching them from the park, Andrew pointed out that if either of them hurt themselves, and a good samaritan wanted to help - how could they if nobody knew our contact numbers?

Next step?  Writing our contact numbers in big black texta on the inside of their school bags!  Or alternatively, a trip to the tattooist......

How old were you when you were given such freedom and responsibility?  Do your kids you have tattoos?