The Cat Pretends He Doesn't Like Me

Case in point. The above photo. 

So he pretends he doesn't like me, yet he follows me from room to room. And sits on the couch right next to my head. Because he doesn't like me much.

He lets me carry him around the house, and then bites me. 
But he only lets me pat him once. And then slinks away.

I may have to roll in catnip and see how he likes those apples. 

Quite frankly, the cat is a bit of a poo.

When Small People Won't Go To Bed. And Steam Comes Out Your Ears.

I am like this hamster running on one of those wheels. Running. Running. Running. And getting nowhere fast. 


Tiny is totally punishing me lately. 


All week she's been a reluctant sleeper, there have been raised voices. There's been hollow threats. And a threat of punishment (and I struggle with this because I can't think of anyway to punish her - because her response is always so non-chalant).  Once she's finally wrestled down to sleep - I find myself in the middle of the night pushed to the edge of the bed - with no covers on me. Cold, uncomfortable, and with no pillow.


This week her bed linen had been changed after an accident, and had literally been replaced, when she came out to me and told me her bed was wet. 


She denied denied denied, then blamed it on the Doctor and said he wee'd on her bed. I told her that the Doctor didn't do it (because I know the Doctor better than she does), finally she admitted that no, the Doctor had nothing to do with it. Instead she had been playing with water on her bed, and now her doona was wet through. 


I was pretty cross. 


It was one of those nights when you're like a jack-in-a-box, up and down, up and down, putting the smalls back into bed. Then they come out again. And so on for around 15 minutes. Then the steam starts to pour out your ears, and you walk them back and tell them once more - don't come out again. It's late. It's bed time. 


So this is where we were. I stripped the bed again when there was an almighty crash. I peer into the Doctor's bedroom and he's inadvertently smashed his bedside lamp. Glass everywhere.


If someone was checking my blood pressure, I think that cuff thing they put on would have been torn to shreds as I turned into the Incredible Hulk. 


Seriously. The bed humdrum is killing me. And not softly. 
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Images - despite being totally unrelated were something that made the smalls and I laugh today. We went to visit my sister, Sarah at Calico + Ivy today, and en route to get some smoothies, we spotted a plane vapour trailing his way through the sky. 'Marry Me'. We stood with our mouths agape looking skyward, causing other pedestrians to do the same. By the time the pilot got to me the marry had blown away and looked like a mangled version of the word. Whoever commissioned that - I hope they got in quickly. 

Uh Huh

Yesterday I left it late to go and grab some fruit and vegetables. I've not discovered anyone really close to our new abode to buy really good produce, so I venture back to my old stomping ground - where everyone knows my name, but Ted Danson isn't around.

We quickly did the rounds of the butcher, the fruit and veg, and then drove to the supermarket. We were doing really well, whizzing around the aisles, Tiny clutching her 'things to pay for' tightly, Matt met us and the four of us traversed the supermarket together. How's that for solidarity?

We got to the check out and Tiny - out of the blue - starts saying top-of-lungs "You're 'gina. You're 'gina." Not just a couple of times. Not even quietly. But chanting it. TOP OF LUNGS. I don't know who was more embarrassed. Matt tried to change the subject and try to refocus Tiny on her new hair bands - NEW HAIR BANDS! The teenage checkout dude didn't make eye contact and scanned us through super fast. I took Tiny out of the trolley and sent her off to look at some 'flowlas' that were conveniently at her height. I was waiting for the reprise of "You're 'gina, you're 'gina," but it passed. Thank goodness. I need one of those trumpet mutes for Tiny to shove in her mouth whenever she feels the need to become a tiny chorister.

Despite how publically humiliating it is, it's a small (tiny) improvement on her standard: "I love you Mum" she tilts her head - then - "Mum... You're poo!"

Ah sweet toddlers.

Don't Drink & Dance

Yesterday we went to my cousin's wedding. It was a beautiful afternoon.

And now I realise I really have two feet. Because they are really stupendously sore. I should have worn ugg boots instead of stilettos. Stylin'.

According to the sister that took these photos of my other sister and I, I turned into a real boozehound. And carved up the dance floor in a most unruly manner. I think the final photo is testament to someone having spiked my lemonades.

Oh and you see that there - -- that's my faux undercut - I fashioned it from a heck of a lotta hairspray and some bobby pins. If I can't have silver lame leggings, I gotta have something.

The Last Straw

The bad news is this peeps. Nibbles de Boing Boing has not yet been returned and is taking up precious room in the laundry.

You may be wondering what's so precious about the room in our laundry, but when you see me doing Twister-esque moves to get in and out whilst carrying a basket of wet washing, then you'd understand.

But the thing Boing Boing doesn't understand is this.

I walked into the laundry to discover that somehow his mysterious boing boing powers allowed him to pull my NEW AND MY FAVOURITE jeans into his hutch and has nibbled big powerful bunny incisor holes into the front and the back of the leg.

I am not Bon Jovi. I do not wear rips in my jeans. The only way to rectify incisor holes in jeans is to:
a) deem them 'boots-only' jeans and wear my boots Puss-in-Boots style
or b) cut them off Daisy Duke style and scare the neighbours.

Back to the Mysterious Boing Boing. He doesn't understand that I am the only one securing his welfare. I feed him twice a day. I top up his water. Top up his hay. Change his hutch. Try and negotiate a pat here and there sans bitey bites.

And that bugger just ate my favourite jeans. How is this going to fare for Nibbles?