tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-281998472014-10-07T12:43:49.600+11:00Belinda is a bad mother.Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comBlogger228125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-65978256268982252592012-12-17T19:57:00.002+11:002012-12-17T19:57:40.022+11:00

Charlie and I are talking about Shakespeare. Not sure how it came up. A bit about Romeo and Juliet was discussed. I ask Charlie "Do you know who Shakespeare is?" He says "Yes". I ruge him "Well..tell me what you know" Charlie pauses, unsure of himself for good reason. "He was a famous pirate?"

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-60601172486610899992012-06-14T14:00:00.003+10:002012-06-14T14:00:22.378+10:00

I was fortunate enough to find myself on a long car trip with just Charlie which meant we got some rare one-on-one time. He began chatting, telling me 'It's hard to explain Mum but sometimes I just think Why are we here?' and then went on to ask some of the age old questions of humanity, 'Why are there people, and not just planets?' 'Why is there anything here at all, and not just nothing?' 'Are

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-9358974347136863732012-04-09T10:33:00.000+10:002012-04-09T10:33:36.898+10:00

Watching the news about a shark attack and Tom turns to Pete and says 'We are just meat really aren't we? And that's why sharks eat us.'

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-47136517016285296612012-03-20T21:44:00.001+11:002012-03-20T21:45:13.749+11:00

Tom asks 'What happens if ALL the racv trucks break down?'

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-48133374432004117242012-03-20T19:24:00.003+11:002012-03-20T19:38:56.171+11:00

We had a beautiful weekend, part of which we helped celebrate a dear friend's 50th birthday. We haven't really seen her and her husband since they had their third child and we had our third...testament to the damage having a third can do. It's not just your sex life and date nights, it's your close friendships too. Anyway we were enjoying a lovely evening in their converted church home with

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-87974037231465196532011-11-11T15:08:00.003+11:002011-11-11T15:38:07.603+11:00

And it feels like it's been four years of questions.Just a sample from just the last week"Do people live of Mars?" and then "What's Mars?""What's a cemetery?" and then "What's buried?""What do they do in an army barracks? Play war?""Whats behind the picture on a computer screen?" and "What's under your eyes if you take them out?""Who made the sky blue and the clouds green? I mean white.""Do

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-21272819182685874802011-10-20T13:43:00.000+11:002011-10-20T13:43:00.136+11:00

'Mum, remember when I didn't love you?'

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-446085143779428442011-10-19T15:04:00.002+11:002011-10-19T15:06:27.966+11:00

This is a good remedy for those glossy house/home/interior design porn magazines.

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-27842672801439840292011-10-19T13:39:00.000+11:002012-03-20T21:43:19.484+11:00

Will and Charlie are talking to each other in the back of the car. I hear something about how if Charlie 'chooses to be gay' and interject. 'You don't necessarily choose to be gay' They stop talking, astonished at this. 'What do you mean?' 'Well if you are a homosexual man, in most instances it wasn't a decision you made, it was just how you are and how you feel. You are attracted to men, not

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-15158685684606968752011-10-18T13:31:00.002+11:002011-10-18T13:39:51.033+11:00

Conversations with Tom remind me of an intense Q&A episode, where there is some eccentric on the panel who goes off on some tangent at some stage in the convo.It all starts off ok.'What's blind?''It's when you can't see?''Is this blind?' scrunches his little face while closing his eyes'Kind of. But it's not just having your eyes closed, your eyes can not see.''How do you get blind?''Some people

Belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08462102529632278973noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-70246022089400859992011-08-07T19:13:00.005+10:002011-08-07T19:16:31.052+10:00

Tom is talking and he burps by accident. I giggle. He doesn't like it when I laugh at him, even though it was just a giggle. He glares and says loudly "SHUT" I glare back.Sweetly he says "I just said SHUT. I didn't say UP." Smile. "I just said SHUT" .

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-53205074423901753022011-06-21T19:50:00.003+10:002011-06-21T19:56:31.336+10:00

We are looking at photos albums of our babies, when they were babies. None of Tom as all his shots are on the computer. Something to be said for film. Anyway, Charlie is looking at the photos of his birth when he points and says 'What's that?' 'My placenta' (Yes. I took a photo of my placenta) 'What's it for?' he asks. 'It feeds the baby when it's in the Mum's tummy' 'So..' big incredulous

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-25450737822241760232011-03-03T19:29:00.004+11:002011-03-03T19:32:16.797+11:00

Tom yells some demand at me in a tone that is hostile, patronising and disrespectful."You wait! I am cooking dinner. And DO NOT SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT". I have accidently mimicked his tone in that last sentence. He looks at me and says "Don't you speak to me like that either" So I...wisened adult of 37 years...I say "You did it first"

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-56904760954962025932011-03-01T14:05:00.003+11:002011-03-01T14:16:56.726+11:00

Back story - no one in my house except for me can muster the energy to lift such a heavy thing as a toothbrush and put it back in the container after they have obviously drained their resources by the strenuous activity of brushing their teeth. I must be superwoman. Not only do I put my toothbrush back, I neaten the toothpaste tube of all squeezes and squashes and torturous twisting, wipe down

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-46902327024811223312011-02-21T17:08:00.003+11:002011-02-21T17:12:51.252+11:00

The kids are supposed to be getting ready for school or something. A visit to their Aunty maybe. I can't remember. What I do recall is being flustered at the getting ready of three kids. I look over to the couch and there is Will, lounged back with his Nintendo DS (he snarls when I call it a 'gameboy'). He has the TV on too. 'What are you doing Will?' I ask, the edge in my voice quite obvious...

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-24538789193724402692011-02-18T11:45:00.003+11:002011-02-18T11:49:17.397+11:00

I am used to my children asking to see the photo immediately after I have taken it. It strikes me as strange, as I did this too as a child who lived when the first Polaroid cameras were released. I was amazed by this instantaneous image. My children have never known anything else and are more amazed when I take a film shot and try to explain that they have to wait until the film is developed and

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-66790299040093193972011-02-16T19:43:00.002+11:002011-02-16T19:47:23.625+11:00

I have one follower. I don't like that term, 'follower'. I know my 'follower' and she is not a followering type...I could go on but won't.

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-28840826779376262032011-02-10T18:38:00.000+11:002011-02-10T18:38:00.216+11:00

A small friend(5)was eating lunch with her mum and her adult friends. The small friend likes her food, had finished her lunch and was eating some cake. She offered to help her mum eat the rest of her lunch too. The mum laughed and said of course, but she better be careful lest she turn into a boombah.'What's a boombah?' the small friend asked before adding 'Can you eat it?'

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-32397329077515128242011-02-09T18:36:00.001+11:002011-02-09T18:36:00.147+11:00

Spoken by a short tattooed man. Not that there's anything wrong with that, just trying to paint a picture for you. 'Yeah, we'd like to have yous over, just Sandy and ya and not all them other fucking deadshits for a change yeah.'

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-36776040514909936082011-02-08T18:31:00.000+11:002011-02-08T18:31:00.112+11:00

YO!! To all you women out there who love to tell me HOW LUCKY I am because my husband cooks I have a little recipe for you, and it goes a little something like this.Chicken drumettes served with homemade wedges, tabouleh and hummus.Chicken drumettes - one big bowl to marinade in, one roasting dish to cook in, one big white bowl to serve in.Tabouleh - juicer to juice lemon, one colander to drain

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-37126884058119008312011-02-07T18:26:00.003+11:002011-02-07T20:44:33.115+11:00

I am tired. Tom is raring. I strike a deal. 'Let Mummy lie down for 15 minutes while you watch TV. No poking me in the eye. No climbing on me. And when I get up I will give you a chewy'. The deal is done. He sits on the couch. I lie on the floor with a pillow. While I doze I realise that I have..ahem..broken wind. The next thing I know Tom has scooted off the couch and is sniffing hard

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-75244336723629480342010-12-17T10:06:00.001+11:002010-12-18T18:35:09.069+11:00

Tom is playing while I clean the kitchen. I hear him 'oohing and ahhing' and he calls me excitedly telling me he found a lady bug in the pencil case he is playing with. I go over to look, feeling happy at the prospect of seeing a lady bug and letting her go outside. I open the pencil case and find a cockroach. A big fat ugly cockroach.

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-62043161048594441222010-12-16T10:01:00.002+11:002010-12-16T10:06:33.507+11:00

Charlie tells will that there is a girl in his class who can...wait for it... sing 'Where is thumbkin?' in JAPANESE. Will is most impressed. 'She must be very smart' he replies. Charlie shrugs and says 'She's Japanese'.

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-14931668268096985522010-11-16T19:09:00.005+11:002010-11-16T19:41:00.059+11:00

Tom never wants to go to doll chair (child care - but when he was learning to talk he called it 'doll chair' and it's just stuck). He always has fun but he never wants to go. He used to cry when we got inside. Then he started screaming when we would pull into the car park. Now he has started carrying on at home before we even leave. 'I don't want to go. It's an IDIOT doll chair'. I ask him why he

Belindanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28199847.post-53625033369093182702010-11-15T11:20:00.000+11:002010-11-15T11:20:00.980+11:00

Will comes out from his room, late-ish at night to share information. Sometimes we yell at him to go back to bed, sometimes we encourage him to tell us more. (Apologies to his future partner, we are doing the best we can)Tonight he comes out after beginning the third book in John Marsdens' Tomorrow When the War Began' series."These three books have something in common." (Well, I would hope he

Belindanoreply@blogger.com