I came out alive!!

The time came yesterday to dive headfirst into it. There was no going back- things had gotten beyond bad. Yes.. it was time to "Clean Miss 3's Bedroom". She had lost her beloved doll, and we HAD to find her... we had gone beyond  tears..we were in TantrumVille and I couldn't replace this dolly, she was custom handmade by CottonBerry for her, and Miss 3 loves her, and takes her absolutely everywhere. It was do or die. My first thought was going to the shed, finding the rake and raking her bedroom, dumping all contents in a garbage bag, and running for my dear life... but that went beyond the logic of finding her doll. So I decided to don a singlet top with no bra, a pair of old tracksuit pants, hair tied back and no makeup. This was War. I was Going In. I have learnt the following since:

1. Anything wet should be treated with extreme caution. It is not advisable to sniff whatever it might be- just treat it with disinfectant, soak it up, or throw it out. There is no need to be putting stale milk on the tip of your nose
2. Watch out for earrings, lego, and booby traps your 3 year old may have set for you. They will be placed so the arch of your foot will fit perfectly into the sharp point. If and when this occurs, try not to jump around holding one foot cursing, you may just jump straight onto another shard of something.
3. Don't have the fantastic idea "I might change the room around at the same time". Especially before the clean has started. You may find yourself with a bed above your head wedged between a door and a wall....
4. If you decide to go through the toybox on the same day, put some gloves on. There is all types of god knows what at the bottom of this thing, and you may just put your hands into a very old bowl of milk. But, the upside is you can stop blaming the dog for farting now you realise where that horrible smell has come from. 
5. Under no circumstances should you also decide to refold all of the clothes before you complete the room. Pulling them all out of the wardrobe with the best intentions doesn't equal them actually being done. You could end up with a clean floor and a bed full of clothes at bedtime.. if you manage to finish cleaning the room before bedtime.

Last but not least, take in an emergency beacon, some flares, emergency food supplies, gloves, a tin opener and plenty of water incase you get lost, and tell someone you know you are Going In! Many mothers sanities have been lost between the four walls of the childs bedroom. I may or may not have lost mine a long time ago. .. be prepared! Oh.. and we ended up finding her doll... in the car on the way to get the boys from school.


written exclusively by Briohazard 3rd February 2012

oh welcome back, darling sanity!

School is officially back. Well, in eight hours to be precise, but still.. I'm excited! I wonder how other families get through the Christmas holidays. Are they like me.. silently wishing the plague onto the government for coming up with the preposterous idea that kids should be home for 6 weeks in the middle of summer? Or do they jump for joy at the glorious sleep ins? Wouldn't life be bliss if school and holidays worked with us and not against us?

1. School should start at 11am, not 8.30am. This would allow for a delicious sleep in, well rested kids and a happy mother. They could still have their seven hours of education, we would just have to change pickup time to 6pm. I could work with that very easily. 
2. Ditch the homework. Nobody told us when we got pregnant that we would have to spend a minimum of 5 nights a week, 40 weeks a year, over twelve years per child to fight about homework. At the very least we parents should have an alcohol allowance of, say, a bottle of wine per week. Homework should be done at school and should be called schoolwork.
3. Cut back the holidays. I know teachers have a hard job.. but they kinda chose that profession themselves, it's nothing I would put my hand up for! Hell, I don't even put my hand up for any type of job that involves the supervision of kids. I'm not that nuts. If I wanted 20 kids I would have had 20 kids. They get enough perks with their jobs.. 2 weeks off every 2.5 months, with a 6 week break over Christmas, weekends off, public holidays off, and that very convenient Student Free Day that happens to occur right before a public holiday with a weekend in between. 
4. Ditch the detentions. I know my kid is a little shit, but I have a hair appointment at 3.15pm and nobody consulted me about this. My kids are my kids in my time.. although they would probably much rather be in detention than listen to Mrs Snippity-Snip gossip about the Smiths & Joneses ironing procedures. Come to think of it, I shouldn't have told them I had a hair appointment. Probably why the little tigers got themselves detentions to start with...
5. Send notes home a minimum of 2 days before a class party. In a locked safe the size of a breadbin. This is the only way we will know there are notes. My child does not volunteer notes, especially when they are bright red and addressed to me. I do not dare stick my hands down to the bottom of that bag for anything. It would be appreciated if we werent told at 8.59pm at night by the children there is a class party in the morning and that they have volunteered me to cook a healthy cake. Last time they did this all I had in the house was some milky ways, smarties, and tiny teddies. Hardly healthy. I made those little milky way cars ..so cute. The teacher told me it wasn't healthy... so I told him the chocolates were tiny.. and moderation is healthy. I got away with it.

Now of course I love my darling little vipers, with all of my heart, and want to spend as much time with them as possible.. but after a holidays full of fighting and mothers in laws visiting, Christmas madness and 40 degree weather I am ready to get myself a coffee & some timtams (minus the timtams, I hate chocolate) a good book and a hammock before the after school homework/tea/bath routine starts all too soon..... aren't they just adorable when they're asleep? 


written exclusively by Briohazard 30th January 2012

Shit, my mother-in-law is on the way!

Every so often that call comes.. and you know it the second you press 'accept' that the next half hour is going to be a nightmare. You have registered on the 'do not call' list, you have stressed to your kids to always tell them that mummy is busy.. you have to put your phone on silent every night after 7pm just incase...but it happens. Yes, you have just been summoned to half hour talking with your mother in law.

Now I'm not saying that all mother-in-laws are bad.. hell, I even love mine, but there is always that one thing that puts a definitive line between the Queen & the Princess... and that is what is known as The White Glove Test. Generally, this isn't done very discreetly.. they pretty much rock up with the damn thing in a glass protection case. A pristine fingermark free-smooth- clean glass protection case...with bells and whistles. And a smirk to boot. Naturally your mother-in-law had the brilliant foresight to let you she will be there in 10 minutes, although she lives 300km away. I swear it's a set up. 


Over the last 24 hours your kids have managed to demolish the house, which by the way was pristine the day before, and smear jam on your glass sliding door. Your three year old has managed to paint the cat with blue fingernail polish and smash a light fitting in your loungeroom with a broom. Naturally you had cooked rissoles the night before, and because one of the gremlins decided not to go to bed you didn't have time to do the dishes. You just about have a coronary after you put the phone down after her announcement of an imminent arrival and fall to your knees.


 What better way, you think, rationally, to waste the next ten precious minutes than to get onto the phone to your husband and tell him how irresponsible he is for having a mother who rocks up out of the blue. And to call him every name under the sun for not having the forethought to tidy up after tea.. because it's his fault and all..


You holler out to your kids, who are indeed fighting and carrying on, to help mummy get the house into some sort of order. They ignore you and proceed to dump the lego on the floor. Knowing there is only 7 minutes left until your judgement day you look around the house and decide you are going to pick up the crap off of the floor with a broom. Anything in it's warpath will have no mercy.. then you sweep it into the laundry and wedge the door shut so that your husband will have to call a builder in to fix it. But it buys you time. Anything in the loungeroom gets scooped up in record time and shoved in your bedroom, which is pretty safe- my mother in law has not stepped foot in mine since the day she walked in and found my vibrator on my bed. 


 Anything on your benchtop gets shoved into a drawer/bag/cupboard with no consideration as to what it is. The spray and wipe comes out and you attack the kitchen quicker than chicks jump on a cucumber in a maximum security prison. The place is starting to look a lot better, and you have just enough time to pull the mop out and go over the floor with lightning speed. I have managed to complete this marathon in 10 minutes.. and all I can say is it gives me my own little smirk. You turn on the airconditioner to make the floors look like they haven't just been done, and whip around in your socks shutting all the curtains to hide the windows. It's easy enough to blame the weather.. it's too hot/cold/muggy/bright to have them open.

After everything is done you look around and smile. Ten fucking minutes, I am a legend! You plan your speech when she rocks up: "Ohhhh hiii, how great to see you! I'm so sorry the house is a pigsty, but I haven't had a chance to clean up yet. How embarrassing! You should have let me know sooner! Come in.. no, don't take your shoes off the floor is desperate for a wash.." Everythings set. You are ready to face The Inquisition. You are even ready to face the "has hubby been eating properly? The kids are looking a bit pale, have you found a million dollar job yet?" part of the visit. You make a coffee, sit down and relax. This is going to be OK. You wait for her, not even considering starting another chore should she shock horror bust you in the middle of it.... and then cotton on to your little deception. And of course, she decides to stop into uncle Bob's first, and is 2 fuckin hours late. Mother-in-laws. The bane of every wifes existance.

written exclusively by Briohazard 14th January 2012

another sunday morning

It is 6.53am on a Sunday morning and I have a cat attached to my face. Literally.. like a crab claw on my nose. Apparently throwing kitty on me is my three year olds perfectly rational way of telling me she wants weetbix. A lovely tap on the shoulder and a cuddle obviously seems inconceivable to her. And, naturally, when I step out of bed my foot comes down (with all my weight I may add) onto the sharpest piece of lego known to man. For a full two seconds I stay on the damn thing contemplating admitting myself to a psych ward… but then pain overcomes me and I holler and carry on. The neighbours wouldn’t know any different- it’s definitely a morning ritual here. My husband laughs- so I peg a thong at him narrowly missing his gleeful face.

Being a mum I have given up hot coffee, cold icecream, and basically my entire stomach and boobs. Gone are the tight abs and look-at-me bosom….. I now have an apron round my waist and teabags hanging off my chest. Gone are blissful nights snuggling up with the hubby and the impromptu social calls at whatever time I desire. My life now includes a wall painted with icing sugar, a laptop with no “E, J or 8″ keys, and a constant droning voice “What HAVE you done today sweetie? You didn’t have time to do the dishes??” (insert evil eyes from me and a detailed exaggerated run down of every possible chore I may or may not have done for the day to try and filter out the fact I have possibly been on Facebook for a few hours)

You see, I am just an average Australian mum, just like the rest of you; waking up to what people without kids would curl up in a ball and sob over. You know those people.. they are also the ones that have it All Figured Out. The perfect parents with answers for every possible situation.

They are the ones who give your kids red cordial at 7pm at night then wonder why on earth your darlings are playing “hide the cat food in the washing machine.” still at midnight, while you’re desperately trying to give your kids The Look and the “you wait til we get in the car” speech between gritted teeth. All whilst adamantly denying any naughty/hypo issues your children may have, because, of course, the Non Parent has all the answers and although we know deep down they may have a point we will never admit it to the Other Side.

We would rather put our hand through a mincer than admit to them that our children do not stick to their routine, that they haven’t had their piece of fruit or the day or that yes, they did poop in the middle of the kitchen just for fun.

Kids tend to have one ambition: Drive Mum Crazy. And most of the time they succeed through their angelic blonde hair and blue eyes. But I’m on a mission. No longer is it my aim to have my child read before the age of 6 months.. I am now just clinging onto hope they will actually get up for school in time. Or brush their teeth without being asked, or possible come on a shopping trip to the local supermarket without asking the cashier if she has a mini or a willy. Yes, we’ve all been there haven’t we ladies!!

It’s funny, I had All The Answers eleven years ago when I had my firstborn. I was even sure I had a lawyer on my hands because he rolled over exactly 6.5 days before his peers… over time I have learnt it would be easier to train a monkey to perform brain surgery on the Queen from a remote location with no internet access. My ambition now is to bring my kids up so they are happy and confident. And don’t end up in jail, preferably. Hopefully.

During this time I hope to master the true art of recognising Beyblades, Squinkies, LalaLoopsies & Ninjago’s. And I hope they in return recognise the true art of a good vaccuuming, a shiny fridge, and a car without Hungry Jacks softserve fingerpainted on the windows. Or a brand new wooden kitchen table without a stick man with a penis etched into it.. (don’t ask) It’s all a part of my life and I wouldn’t live without any of it.

Well, the table I could have- I think I gave myself tonsillitis from that little hiccup. But regardless, ask me what will make me happy? I-phone, I-touch, I-pad?? Nope not on your nelly! A 6 month supply of Iced Coffee will do Sir, and a good glass of Moscato in complete silence….. (aka kids not strangling each other for a MINIMUM of five minutes)…. quite enough time to skull the bottle and hide the evidence in the laundry where No Man Goes would be, in my book, the best thing since sliced bread.

So, like a true Aussie stay at home mum I will say it loud, and I will say it proud.. I swear to every man on this continent if I win this I will refrain from describing childbirth as akin to pushing a chandelier out of my nostril and stop comparing my labour to every affliction and illness you have….

…until I decide you have man flu again- I swear 

(this was my competition entry I wrote for a website http://www.stayathomemum.net.au/ to win some omo, I didn't win it but they do have an awesome website, check them out)
written exclusively by Briohazard 21st December 2011