Happy Birthday to Me (or, oh bugger I'm really getting old)

Some people - myself included - are sometimes at a loss of where to begin when faced with the tyranny of a blank (web) page. Happily tonight I suffer no such hesitation as News The Important has occurred today. Ava and Lonan were in daycare while Breda spent the day one-on-one with Jonty. During the day she got a call from a very excited day-carer (is that a word?) to say that Lonan had asked to be taken to the toilet and had - to his apparent surprise - proceeded to do a wee-wee. For us this is a real breakthrough as he has shown no interest at all up to now. Apparent the day-caring type person reckoned that it was being away from Jonty which motivated Lonan to go. That and a running tap...

So huzzah for little Lonan. It's hard to know who is more proud. Him with himself or me of him.

In less dramatic news it was my birthday on the weekend.

All of a sudden I'm overcome by a feeling of brief mortality
'Cause I'm getting on in the world
Comin' up on 41 years
41 stony grey steps towards the grave
You know, the box
Awaits its grizzly load
Now I'm gonna be food for worms

Well now Alabama 3, I reckon you nailed that one...

A couple of photos of me with some stunningly good looking boys (well, until they make those 'blowing out candles' faces) and a half eaten cake (we'd snacked earlier)

You may note that Ava is conspicuous by her absence...

...this would be because she had announced she was tired and put herself to bed. Honestly, if we only had her we wouldn't even know we had a child...

...so thank god we've got the boys as well.

For the whole day the boys (particularly Lonan) had been singing 'It's raining, it's pouring' in the sweetest, cutest way. After hours of this delightful treat we finally got organised enough to get the camera out.

This is what their soft beautiful singing turned into the moment they got on film. I give up, really I do...

The elves and the shoemaker.

In the famous fairy tale the shoemaker is visited by elves at night who do all his work for him.

In a similar vein, Breda has magical aid from her 'little people' when doing chores.

What a pleasant and easy life she must lead with so many keen helpers.

Update the latest.

Whew, this moving house stuff doesn't half take up your time...

After an absolute weekend from hell last week, we approached this weekend with some trepidation. Turns out we needn't have bothered as the kids were the vastly improved models as promised by baby books everywhere.

Ava comfortably at ease.

Oh no! Earthquake!
(Funny enough she really does look like she's falling. Weird child..)

Ava in one of her random moments of kindness, spontaneously hugging Jonty who, to be honest, has more important things on his mind. She really is such a mothering little thing and we're lucky to have her to help out around the place.

Jonty at the summit of the slide.

Unfortunately from the summit it's all downhill and Jonty has certainly had a bit of a fall from grace over the last couple of weeks. It's my fault really as I recently posted about what a wonderful, delightful child he was - which is a sure fire way to ensure a Linda Blair style personality change.

Seemingly overnight Jonty has become an intolerable bully complete with teasing, snatching and surreptitious kicking and punching. He has also discovered that parental commands can be answered by a simple 'no' and running away. Oh joy.

We're at a bit of a loss about how to tackle this from him and are hoping that it's a short lived phase, soon to be replaced by our old Jonty. One positive of his behaviour is that I got to spend a couple of hours alone with him on Sunday in an attempt to do some male bonding. We had a great time together - as did the other two kids without him for a bit.

Come back Jonty, we miss you.

Lonan remains Cheeky Monkey. His love of Big Dadda's Bike is now equalled by his love of all things 'Big Rocket Ship', although where this has come from we're at a loss to know.

Lonan's happiest moments are sitting at the compter watching You Tube videos of bike racing. Oh bugger it, since I'm here admitting to mediocre parenting I might as well tell the whole truth - Lonan's happiest moments are sitting at the computer watching You Tube videos of bikes crashing. Closely followed by watching monster trucks crashing.

How's that for parenting, eh.

It is slightly disconcerting to be waved off on my bike in the morning by Lonan yelling excitedly 'Big Dadda Bike crash! Crash Big Dadda Bike!'

I very much fear he is going to grow up into the stereotypical Aussie rev-head. Complete with bad mullet.

Lonan, Gitta...and some old and very tired git.

We're back...

We're here, all safe and sound in our new home. We have power, lighting, HEATING, water, internet connection - all the mod cons, really.

The house is smaller than the last one but much more user-friendly and cosy. The last house was all open spaces and echoes; here it's proper rooms with privacy but still with a feeling of interconnectedness. The heating is a boon but not needed as much as the house is warmer anyway. We have a bigger garden and a nicer alfresco area. In all, it's pretty good here. Except, of course, that it's been chucking it down with rain and blowing a gale since we got here. To be fair, it is winter and it is still around 16-18 degrees, so can't complain really...

Took the kids out for a walk along the beach this afternoon; ducking the rain squalls and battling the strong winds while watching the slate-grey waves smash against the beach was an effective way to blow away a weekend spent unpacking boxes worth of cobwebs. The boys loved it and ran about with great gusto. Ava, it seems, is not the wet and wild outdoors type, perferring to stay huddled up in the buggy with her hat pulled over her eyes in the hopes that it would all go away if she ignored it hard enough. She didn't really perk up till Breda suggested returning home for a hot cocolate, then suddenly it was all smiles and 'faster daddy faster' to the poor engine on the back.

Looking around there are still a depressing amount of things-without-a-home covering every surface and I'm forever tripping over stuff lying around, but the kids are playing happily and the air is filled with the delicious smell of the roast Breda is cooking and the wind can blow and the rain fall 'cause we're snug and warm and that puts us ahead of most people in the world.

I expect to see you all at the housewarming...bring drink.

Home Sweet Home

We're moving house tomorrow...

A severe storm warning is current for the south west of Western Australia.

A cold front approaching the coast is expected to pack damaging winds.

Rain and strong winds in Perth has already cut electricity supplies to more than 11,000 homes.

The Bureau of Meteorology's Duty Forecaster Noel Puzy says damaging winds could bring significant damage to property.

"We're looking at pretty widespread gusts of up to 110 kilometres an hour, but could see some isolated gusts of up to 120 kilometres an hour," he said.

Mr Puzy says there's been significant rain overnight and there could be flooding in some areas.

Ya gotta laugh, don't ya...

Thank god for other people.

Whenever I worry that we're rubbish parents I thank god for other people. Not nice, intelligent people like you who read this blog (and especially not you fantastically gifted people who actually comment), no, I thank god for the kind of people who apparently think this is good parenting...

http://failblog.org/

It's all about timing.

I've written that phrase before 'It's all about timing'. Previously was to describe the unerring timing of the kids to simultaneously get horrendously, projectile-vomiting sick just when Breda had gone off flying and left me all alone. Why then do you think I may be using it again now?

That's right. Got it in one. I always knew this blog attracted intelligent analytical reasoners.

Or, at least, almost right. Breda hasn't gone off and left me and the kids are not all sick at the same time. Rather they are taking it in turns to succumb to the nasty bug; thereby dragging out the actual period of sickness to its maximum extent. This would, under ordinary circumstances, merely slot into the 'bit of a pain but no real drama' box, except, as alluded to in the title, the kids really know how to pick their moments. Firstly this was planned as a very busy and very important weekend as it is our only chance to pack before we move house (yes, yes, I know I haven't even mentioned moving house before now but I've been busy, okay). Then, on top of that I've been very busy at work (see previous parenthesis) and am hardly here at all next week (our last before we move) as I am away with 18 hour days up at some hole in the ground or another in the middle of 'Where the hell are we?', Western Australia.

On the home front, Ava has already done her 24hr vomit-a-thon on Thursday. We had a break for a day before Lonan started up last night (and is still power-chucking) and fully assume that Jonty will have joined in the fun by tomorrow night. As well as the house looking like a Chinese laundry with puked-on-hastily-washed-and-trying-to-dry-before-the-next-round towels hanging on every convenient surface, the kids being sick means they can't go into day care so we are losing the two days Breda had to try to do some packing before we move and both of us also feel headachy and nauseous but neither of us have the time to be ill so must soldier on in the time honored manner of parents everywhere. Given that we're out next Saturday there does appear to be a disturbing amount of things-not-in-boxes scattered around and I worry that the true scale of the problem lies hidden beneath the multitude or drying towels scattered about.

It is, indeed, all about timing - and our kids appear to have it nailed.

In other shocking news; we're moving house (see? I told you I'd find to blog about it at some point). Unable to face another winter freezing in this barn-like edifice and not yet willing to buy, we have found another house to rent - even further away from my work, natch - which not only has heating but a bigger garden and is so close to the beach that you can hear the waves crashing at night (I have to take Breda's word for this as the only time I've been there all I could hear was screaming children. I'm fairly sure she's not lying but, to be honest, she could be making it up and it'll be a dozen years yet before it's quiet enough to know for sure). Obviously this means we'll be off-line for a while so if you don't hear anything for a bit it's because my Internet provider has screwed things up again, or we've all actually got Swine Flu and have gone to the great sty in the sky. Whichever option gets the bags packed and let's us get some sleep, quite honestly.

Let's talk about work for a minute

A colleague recently got a letter which stated that under XYZ legislation he had to have a hearing test. Confused he asked us whether he was actually legally required to do the test. This is the applicable sections of the legislation we found:

The Workers Compensation and Injury Management Act 1981 section 24A clearly states:

Subject to Schedule 7 and this section, a worker suffering from
noise induced hearing loss shall be entitled to compensation for
that loss under item 6 of Part 1 of the table set out in Schedule 2
if the worker so elects as provided by section 24B, but the
compensation payable for that hearing loss shall, subject to the
provisions of this Act relating to Schedule 2, be in accordance
with the percentage ratio of the prescribed amount indicated in
column 2 of Part 1 of the table set out in Schedule 2 in respect
of item 6 at the date of the audiometric test under Schedule 7
that showed that a loss or diminution of the worker’s hearing
had been incurred, irrespective of when the worker so elects.

To help clarify the situation a bit more the aforementioned schedule 7 in clause 1 and 10 of schedule 7 are detailed respectively below to assist with clarifying the nature of the workplace in question:

1. Terms used
In this Schedule —
audiometric test means an audiometric test carried out in accordance
with clause 4(1);
prescribed workplace means a workplace prescribed under clause 10;

and

10. Prescribed workplaces
Workplaces shall be prescribed for the purposes of this Schedule.

Is it any wonder I go home exhausted...

A plethora of pictures

Seems to me it's been a while since I updated on how the kids are growing. This is obviously very remiss of me and I should be suitably punished - Valerie; I look to you.

In an attempt to stem the inevitable, but fully justified, beatings I humbly offer this expanse of photos and children-updating-type-comments. Enjoy and please go easy on me; I'm an old, old man...

For those of you who may have missed it the kids, somehow, stopped being babies or even toddlers and suddenly became children. This happened so suddenly that it took us a while to notice. One minute they were tiny little things, complete with the remnants of baby fat, and the next they were tall, long limbed adults piloting the space shuttle. (Okay, so not the space shuttle yet but they seem to be that grown up. Oh, and when I say tall I mean this in a relative 'Ross' way i.e. hobbit-sized).

So let's meet the cast -
Ava. This isn't a great photo but it's posted here as proof of the shocking realisation that - Ava Has Hair! Indeed, so much hair that it even requires cutting. Sure, it's thin and straight and difficult to do anything with (apparently), but it is hair nonetheless.

Now look, I know this photo is blurry, but I really like it. Ava looks like a proper girl, in fact she often reminds me of my mate Richard's oldest daughter, Ciara (although this is possibly because she was the first child who ever liked me and hence made me think that, just maybe, having children was not the end of life forever. As such she holds almost mythical status in my eyes)

Yet another not particularly great photo (aren't you glad I've gone to all the trouble of posting?). I mean, she looks okay, but this doesn't really capture the sheer stunning cuteness of her sweet darling personality which is like a burst of sunshine on a winters day. Provided of course you don't mess with two vital aspects - her sleep and her food. Upset either of these and she transforms into a writhing, spitting, snarling Medusa before you can say 'Have you met my lovely daughter...oh, uh...oh mother of god get this crazed thing away from me!'

My beautiful little girl Ava. Unless she's not fed and rested in which case she's all Breda's. I'm wrapped around her finger, not mad.

Jonty -

What a delight this child is. We never would have guessed that Jonty would turn into the most affectionate of all the kids. He loves to be held and cuddled and is always surprising us with impromptu kisses and affection. I love this from him and hate the thought that he will grow and change to suppress these emotions. We are acutely aware that our time with the kids as open and unselfconscious people is so very finite and due to pass in the blink of an eye. I already mourn and miss Jonty's open affection. I shall just have to rob him of every kiss and cuddle I can before time does the job for me.

Jonty - his genuine smile

Jonty - his 'Smile!' smile. Ever so slightly creepy...

Jonty is still subject to escalating tantrums and struggles to calm himself. Small things wind him up well beyond their true effect on him and I worry about how he will handle himself if he doesn't learn self-control before he starts school. I want to give him the right tools but don't know what these are. I'm scared I'll fail him in this.

Lonan -

Lonan is, quite simply, a cool dude. He swaggers (where did he get that from?), struts and plays the fool. Where Jonty dispenses affection openly, Lonan is much more guarded and we have embarked on a dedicated campaign to break down his barriers. This consists of lots of kisses and cuddles and - the big guns - tickling and hanging upside down. Lonan appears to be responding and lately has become a lot more open with his affection. He has the most appealing habit of asking you to do something with him and then, when you say it back to him, saying 'oakay' in a quiet voice like he's doing you a favour.

'Dadda, can we go to the beach?'
'Do you want to go to the beach?'
'...oakay...'

Lonan, chillin'

Of all the kids, Lonan is the most obsessed with 'big dadda's bike' and I fear I am going to have a huge fight on my hands dissuading him from wanting a bike of his own. I'm not saying he can't have one, just that he's going to have to wait until he's going through his own mid-life crisis before I'll let him.

Lonan's my boy. I can honestly state that I don't have a favourite amongst the kids, but Lonan appears to have adopted me as his mate. On the face of it he appears the simplest and most straight forward of the kids but this is deceptive. Lonan can easily full an entire day with a low-key whine which drives you to distraction. The natural impulse is to send him to his room or otherwise get him out of your hair but, unlike Jonty, any punishment has little effect on Lonan. Lonan's clowning hides his insecurities and upset at being in trouble. He's not being willfully disobedient, it's just how he copes with conflict. He responds much better to positive reinforcement and fairly glows when praised. He comes across as the toughest of the kids but in reality is still the baby of the group. It can just be a little hard to keep this in mind sometimes...

This is Lonan's 'I'm being told off' face. It's simultaneously maddening and hilarious. Personally, I pity his teachers...

My Mum -

A surprise guest appearance from my Mum on her recent visit.

I could perhaps also attempt to analyse my Mother's psyche while I'm here playing amateur physiologist - but she almost certainly has more dirt on me than I do on her, so we'll just leave that particular minefield alone, shall we...

Toilet training -

We first tried this about six weeks ago and it was - to be charitable - a disaster. The kids were freaked out and upset, we were exhausted and cranky and the fact that we have ever even contemplated trying again is testament to Breda's backbone of steel. Left to me, they'd be in nappies till their wedding days.

This time however things are different. Ava seized the concept immediately and, for all intents and purposes, toilet trained herself in a couple of days. Jonty is not far behind and, although he needs the odd reminder, is mostly dry as well. And Lonan? He hasn't shown the slightest interest so we're happy to let him go for a while (see? Still the baby)

A very rare photo of all three, dressed up, clean and in one place.

(Ten seconds later) And then there were two...

So, that's it then, the kids in a nutshell. The odd tantrum and sibling fight aside, they are more fun now than they have ever been. Of all the times since they were born, now is the moment I would like to stop and just hold them where they are for a while. This time with the kids will be gone soon and I will be a sadder man for it's passing but a happier one for having been so privileged as to have shared it with them.

Don't be in too much of a hurry to grow up my children. Oakay?

The simple pleasures

When my older brother, Brendon, and I were around the age our kids are now our parents - apparently - bought us a huge pile of presents one year. The story - told with much rueful shaking of heads - was that they, lovely doting parents that they were, spent a small fortune on gifts which arrived in large cardboard boxes. Like horrible little ingrates we, obviously, ignored the expensive presents* and spent the whole day playing merrily with the boxes.

My parents will therefore be delighted that my children are similarly comfortable with the simple pleasures of life...

...like making a box into a million wonderful playthings, the only limitation being the endless and magical imagination of a small child. Or, in Lonan's case, making a box into one thing only and then vigorously resisting the mere suggestion of change.

*My parents have always been a little vague on exactly what these 'magical' presents were. A rocking horse and a toy car may have been alluded to at some point but over the years of hearing the story I've been left with the distinct impression that it can't have been anything less than a life-size model of a 747 and a Porsche Carrera.