Archive for July, 2008

Dam age

Beetle had a rough afternoon today, and I proved myself to have no sympathy whatsoever

I picked her up early from kindy, knowing they’d be releasing the kids as parents arrived because of the rain, and we drove up towards my parents’ place for a quick visit with Nana.

Part way there, Beetle started crying.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“My nose is sooooore”

“What happened?”

*cries* “There’s a little ball in my booger

“Oh dear… do you have a hard, sore booger or did you put an actual little ball up there?”

“A little ball”

“Did you do it at kindy or in the car?”

“I found it in the caaar

We stopped outside Mum’s and I got out for a closer inspection. Yes, there was a small fuzzy craft pompom stuck up her left nostril. (Beetle calls nostrils, boogers… you can guess how that came about)

She started to plan ahead. “I’m going to go home. And when I go home I’ll have a little nap. And in the morning I’ll be better”

But I was driving back up to the shopping centre so we could visit the Nice Doctor, since I remembered that we are not supposed to dig after such things by ourselves.  The wait for the walk-in clinic was not long, and the nurse fetched another nurse, a torch, and a pair of tweezers, and extracted the ball from the booger.

Having finished, they gave Beetle a Bratz sticker *rolls eyes* and we were off, but for one more thing – I asked nicely and they gave me the booger ball in a little jar.

That should come in handy come her 21st.

And then after we visited Nana, we came home and there was a disagreement between the girls which culmanated with Beetle hurling blocks in the block box and shouting “DAMN. DAMN”.  Then she caught herself and corrected to “DAMN. AGE.  DAMN. AGE. DAMN age”  (because obviously if you’re saying damage that is a perfectly legitimate word).  So she was shuttled off to her room while I started cooking dinner, but when I went to check on her she was fast asleep.


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Almost a storm

There was supposed to be a storm, this weekend. Well, there was an actual storm. It just didn’t blow any roofs off houses in our particular neighbourhood. But, lacking a crystal ball, I spent Saturday morning checking the weather news on the ‘net and trying to decide to which extent my storm preparations should go.

See… the North Shore City Council Civil Defence website says if there’s a wind warning you should tape big windows? Is that ridiculous to do that or not? (Nobody else is, but maybe they just want their windows to blow in) Well, maybe just on that one with the thrashing tree next to it.

And how about I move the toy oven and so forth away from the Window With Thrashing Tree for good measure, and then shout at the girls when they try to set up elaborate games in the newly emptied space.

Ooh, golly – the herald says the metservice says that if the storm gets bad to stay away from windows and Retreat Within the House. Where can I make myself a bunker? Downstairs? They say the storm will hit worst at midnight. Hey Bear – can you take a camp stretcher downstairs, just in case?  Thermos?

So, in short, I spent the first half of the day fretting and checking my supplies of candles and torches, and putting batteries in the radio. In the meantime I followed the actions of my family, who periodically checked in by phone as they drove around in the storm, looking at the beach, going to LAN parties on the other side of the city, shopping, visiting one another for dinner, and so on.

I swear they do this just to bother me… of course they came away unscathed.

The power went off here at 3pm, just as the storm shifted away from us, saving me from stormblogging live.

And in the end…. we set up a bed in our room for Beetle, in case the power didn’t come back on and she didn’t like sleeping alone in the dark end of the house. Bear cooked sausages and baked beans on the BBQ (set up in the garage) and we took advantage of the darkness to trick the girls into going to bed (in their own rooms) an hour early – just as the power came back on.

The threatened midnight storminess never happened, and we spent Sunday morning cooking (and eating) ginger gems and making a double batch of lemon squash.  I must remember to get out the gem irons more often.  Anything that gets cooked in a heated pan with its own sizzling square of butter and THEN gets thoroughly buttered on serving is fine with me.

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Beetle admonishes me frequently.  “Mummy, don’t ever growl at me ever again!

To which I must remind her that undoubtably, it will be necessary to growl at her in future.

On Wednesday night, after Billie and Beetle ate a suprisingly number of edamame (they call them “Popper Beans”), Beetle blithely looked Bear in the eye and chucked a spoonful of her rice on the ground.  He (having Had a Bad Day, What A Day Dad Had) told her there would be NO STORIES*.

She cried and roared off to her room.  After I gave her a hug and got her in her pyjamas, she asked for a spoonful of honey to feel better.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“My love is sore,” she replied.

PS: we backtracked. There were apologies and there was only one less story than usual

* because she loves books, the most effective motivator is stripping books off her bedtime quota, or removing the privilege of reading after bedtime, despite the nagging feeling that the threat “You be good or there’ll be NO LEARNIN'” is kinda uncool.

Unapproved solution:

“I want to have a quiet day tomorrow, with out anybody rumpussing around,” she told me yesterday.

“Who rumpusses around?” I asked.


“What will you do if she does that?”

“Oh, I will just flip her over”

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