A real human girl?

 Strangely unsettling morning. Annie was pleasant. Sweet even. She has either come out the other side of some sort of demonic possession or she is trying to lull me into a false sense of security, at which point she will let rip with a Britney/Lilo-esque type melt down at the most opportune moment. There have still been moments where her pupils seemingly glow red and she gets that weird 'Children of the Corn' look on her face, but for the most part she almost seems like a real human girl. I must admit, a lot of this "normal" behaviour can be attributed to blatant bribary (If you put your shoes on you can have a milky way... If you stop screaming I won't leave you at the petrol station... obviously joking). Last night she ate one solitary piece of meat so as I would refill the gravy compartment on her plate. The girl is all about the gravy and the sauce! It didn't really work though, so for all means and purposes, you could safely say she had gravy for dinner last night. Mmm,Vitamin MSG.
ANY success to get her out the door in the morning is largely to the credit of her bestest friend Clara (or Cwawa as Annie pronounces it), who she runs to squealing, arms flailing, each day across the school yard. It's a scene I tells ya. The two of them then grab hands and do a spirited happy dance/jump up and down number before trotting off to get to work on very important toddler business. It always makes me laugh and also feel slightly disappointed that rarely in adulthood does this awesome display of  frenetic "Oh my frickin'god, I missed you, you're so awesome, I'm so excited" happen , especially after only 24 hours apart.
Their to do list includes; dropping stones into the storm water grates, collecting branches and other crud from the oval, stealing food from other peoples lunch boxes (well if ya leave it lying around??) and the ever popular stuffing around at the drink fountains (which are of questionable hygiene) inevitably leading to wet, dirty clothes... The aim of every toddler I assume? Get dressed, arrive, find water, get wet, sorted.
I have become especially watchful for the ice cream containers of dog water that are often lying about at parks etc because apparently this stuff is better than any of that bottled crap. If you are under 4 dog water is delicious and irresistible!

Anyway, wish me luck because I am spending the entire weekend alone at my mum's house with the small ones and things could go very very wrong. I will be requiring alcohol on both nights and seeing as how I am going to be sharing a bed with Samuel, the side sleeper, who loves nothing better that to kick me in the small of the back all night. I might throw in a sleeping pill, a face mask and spongey ear plugs for good measure. Yes, I will be emulating Judy Garland during her demise... Might have to find a flowy nighty for maximum effect.

Annie and her co-conspirator in mess making, the adorable Clara.

Cactus Hour

I've decided that cactus hour is a bit like having Motley Crew (in the 80's) in your lounge room.
Basically there's a fair amount of screaming, public urination, outrageous demands and nudity.

After getting up at the crack of sparrows today, herding the littlens to OSH and Child Care, teaching year 2's for a full day and finally herding everyone and their 14 pieces of hand luggage back through the front door alive (hooray for me), we then have the privilege of being a part of the 4:30 cactus hour... which goes on until well after 7.

4:30pm: Take off nappy. Get on and off toilet 35 times.
4:35pm: Go and wee on a Medicare cheque.
4:40pm: Wee on floor boards twice more ensuring wee gets in between boards.
4:45pm: Eat instant coffee directly from the jar. Freak the fuck out.
4:50pm: Demand a lot of plastic straws. No, not that one. Tantrum.
4:55pm: Get foot stuck in toy (valid cry). Didn't kiss foot right amount of times. Tantrum.
5pm: Watch Mr Maker... get craft ideas in head.
5:05pm: Not allowed to go outside to paint. Major tantrum.
5:10pm: Demand Milky Way, Chips, Tiny Teddies... Denied. Tantrum.
5:15pm Demand macaroni and cheese.
5:30pm: Be deeply offended by said macaroni and cheese offering. Demand sauce for dinner.

There is no way to end this post. I'm so tired. Good night.

Masking tape will stick to a rabbit

Annie is sick. I'm not having fun. In desperate attempts to appease the little chicklet I allowed her to play with a roll of masking tape which she decided to decorate the rabbit with. It wasn't a lot of masking tape. I'm sorry Fluffy but you're gonna have to take one for the team. My feeling is, if the rabbit is stupid enough to sit still more than a few seconds in the presence of a 2 year old then he has it coming. Mabel the highly strung cat knows the drill and has her escape routine carefully planned, whereupon sighting Annie, will go into a semi crouch position, tail still (you don't want to draw attention to that shit) establishing the quickest route away from the chubby handed one. Unfortunately Fluffy isn't the brightest crayon in the box. He repeatedly tries to have sex with the peg basket and eat his own poo. Yes, they do that apparently. So you see, the masking tape thing was probably a pleasant escape from the regular mundane rabbit business for the little guy.

'Masking Tape Head' by Annie

Before you call Familes SA...

Before I begin this blog in which I will inevitably paint myself as some sort of hard-hearted psychopath who doesn't deserve the love of her little cherubs, I will get the disclaimers out of the way.
1. I love my daughter. As in, "I adore, would throw myself under a bus to save her life, am often found staring in absolute awe of her perfection" love her.
2. I do have another child, who is not ignored. He is a quiet, self conscious, introspective little man who I also adore. 
3. I do not love one child more than the other. Although I do like Sam a lot more at the this point in their lives. Mainly because he doesn't make me consider drinking during the day quite as often as Annie does, and rarely throws apples at my head because they are the wrong colour.
4. This blog is in no way intended to give advice or instruction on the raising of a toddler... because I have no idea. The fact that she is my second child makes this a little sad because my first child was seemingly a freak of nature and NEVER had a tantrum... ever. I know.
5. I am bound to make grammatical errors. The commas won't always be in the right place. I know this makes some people very cross. I am sorry.
6. I swear quite a bit. I really enjoy it. Again, sorry.
7. I love my daughter. Despite the spectacularly unreasonable, unpredictable, bad tempered, kicking, screaming, frothing at the mouth unpleasantness that is her toddlerness (yep, made that word up), she is my darling girl.

P.S. Here is a bruise on my knee that I acquired yesterday when I fell through the baby gate and face planted the kitchen floor. I was attempting to storm in as she had squeezed an entire tube of paw paw ointment onto the couch. Instead she burst into tears at the sight of me on the floor clutching my knee and so we ended up cuddling on the paw paw couch as I comforted her. Annie:1, Tanya: 0.