Can you believe we’re already a month into 2015? The Big Sister went back to school on Tuesday and we're finally settling into a little bit of normality. Of course, by normality I mean that special Smyth brand of normality that isn't very normal at all.
As January comes to a close, I've spent some time reflection on the things I've learned this year. Important life lessons, folks!
This book is a gift to mothers of prickly Harriets the world over. Note: I chose to photograph our copy next to the Little Sister’s handiwork on our dining room chair legs. Large sticker book = a gift from her childless Uncle and Aunt.
Turn a blind eye.
Sure, good friends will smile politely when your denture breaks and pretend not to notice the gaping hole where your front tooth should be. But GREAT friends will stand around the kitchen bench cheering Bearhands on as he attempts to superglue the blessed thing back together.
Have a backup plan.
As he waved me off to the technician’s office to have my denture repaired, Bearhands asked that I request an appraisal of his work. When I arrived I checked my dignity and denture at the door, and sat in the waiting room sans front tooth. The dental technician was a nice bloke, who eventually gave Bearhands an 8/10. His work was good, but he’d deducted marks for excess superglue. It’s good to know that if this farming caper doesn’t work out, we can open a backyard denture repair business.
Measure twice, explode once.
If you think cooking with kids brings out your OCD tendencies, try conducting science experiments with them. The Big Sister received a do-it-yourself volcano kit for Christmas. Starting Boxing Day, she woke up every morning, stretched, went to the loo then came into my bed and asked if we could make the volcano today. Eventually, on a day with the Little Sister had other plans, we made the volcano. Cue Mummy having flashbacks to high school titration competitions and insisting on precise measurements. Yeah, I’m a barrel of laughs. DIY Volcano kid = gift from childless friend.
Laughter is the best medicine.
Not all springform pans are created equal.
Don’t tweet and cook.
The very same afternoon that I baked that chocolate cake onto the bottom of the oven, I boiled over a pot of marshmallow mix. A lesser woman would’ve thrown her toys out of the cot, I consoled myself by eating the cake off the bottom of the oven and counted the minutes until five o’clock.
Trust your instincts
Should you discover that your homemade prawn stock has passed its prime. Don’t pour it down the sink, stick with your first instinct and post it to Fred Nile. Postage is much cheaper than having the grease trap cleaned.
Chocolate covered bullets conjure old flames.
Well, old flame is overstating it, but be warned. If you spend your morning scoffing chocolate bullets, you will likely encounter the object of your teenage affections at the public pool. In your bikini. While drying a particularly squishy bit of your upper thigh. And wearing a denture.
what have you learned this year?
shall I write a list of what NOT to give kids for Christmas?