slacker mcgee, that's me.

I didn't mean to go so long without blogging, I really didn't.  It's just that life has been pretty hectic lately.  The Bear has stopped sleeping during the day.  Although I still put him in his cot every day, the time he will spend playing in there is getting shorter and shorter.  It's now down to about twenty minutes.  And when he's awake, I need to be with him every second.  If I'm not, he's climbing on the kitchen bench, climbing up to the TV and rocking it back and forth, climbing onto his chest of drawers and playing with his heater...in other words, climbing is his thing.  And before you ask, I have child-proofed.  My house is the most child-proof house I've ever been in!  This is as good as it gets.


Anyway, enough with the whinging, and on to the good stuff.  Well, I've been given an award by the perenially cool Robin over at Lolidots.  She gave it to me about three hundred years ago, or so it seems, and I am going to share the love, I really am, but not today.  I'm about halfway through, and I'm a bit stuck.  But in the meantime, hop on over to Lolidots and see what Robin has to say - it's always a good read, and if you're lucky there'll be a photo of her hilarious and very cute kids.


On another note, the Gig and Pacino went to a training session for their favourite team, the South Sydney Rabbitohs, when they played here last weekend.  They also went to the game, but let's draw a veil over that and move on quietly.  It was a bit of a shellacking, I'm sorry to say.  For those who are wondering, the Rabbitohs, or Bunnies, are a Rugby League team.  Oh, Rugby, you're thinking.  I've heard of that.  Well, yes and no.  There are two forms of the game, Rugby League and the real one Rugby Union.  I was never, ever a League fan growing up, but since marrying Pacino, I've learnt that if you can't sulk them out of their obsession, you might as well join them.  These days, although I wouldn't watch the Bunnies for my own amusement, when they're playing I am as involved as anyone.  Except perhaps Pacino, who takes it very ...personally... when they lose.  Which they do a fair bit. 

I've written before about my children and their love for their comfort toys, but today I've got some sad news.  Mousie, the Bear's partner in crime, is no longer with us.  He's missing in action; we think he's at a park in our old hometown.  The Bear has been very brave, and his good mate Ted has stepped into the role of Commander in Chief of the Cot, but it's still very depressing to think of Mousie alone by the swings (or wherever he may be).  Goodbye, Mousie.  We will miss you.

And now, here's a picture that explains why the Bear fully deserved the praise that was being lavished on him for "lovely eating..all those vegies!".

of mice and ...puppies

What is it with children and comfort objects, lovies, cuddlies, call them what you will? And more to the point, what is it with puppies and an almost magnetic attraction to said comfort objects?

The Gig has a deep and abiding affection for a little pink elephant, imaginatively named Ellie. When I say pink, of course, I’m being kind. Or nostalgic. Or something. You see, Ellie is now a dingy shade of grey. And she looks more like a mouse than an elephant, due to the Gig's unfortunate childhood habit of chewing on Ellie’s trunk. The Gig asked me, when she was about 5, where Ellie’s trunk was now. “Sweetheart, you just don’t want to know...’’

Ellie has seen the Gig through thick and thin. She has been on sleepovers, she has travelled around the world with us, she’s been happy to be dragged around the house 24/7, or alternatively to sit on the Gig's bed with a resigned and patient expression on her trunkless little face, waiting for her girl to return and fill her in on the day’s activities.

When the Bear came along eight years later, we were prepared. TWO lovely, soft, sweet little elephants had been purchased, just ready for the Bear to love and cherish. Well, wouldn’t you know it - he wouldn’t have a bar of them. Oh, he’d hold them while he played, but there wasn’t that…magic. “Oh well”, I thought, “this one’s just not into comfort toys.” I was a little sad, but also somewhat relieved that we wouldn’t have to spend at least three quarters of every waking moment making sure we knew where the damn toy was.

Until one day, when the Bear was about five months old I picked up a little toy mouse (free with outfit) and handed it to him while I changed his nappy. Fireworks exploded, bells chimed, fairies and angels sang – it was truly love at first sight. Mousie (we’re good with names) was now an official part of our family.

So, feeling a bit like the Farmer’s wife, I chopped off Mousie’s tail with a carving knife. (Actually a pair of scissors.) Please don’t call the RSPCA; it was all about safety. The Bear's safety, obviously, not Mousie’s. That tail was too long for comfort, especially as I’d already seen the Bear try to stuff it into his mouth. This operation left Mousie looking more like a teddy bear than a mouse, but, in the interests of confusing all babysitters, we kept his original name.

So life went on. Mousie was loved, cuddled, sucked, vomited on (frequently, but that’s a whole other post) and generally subjected to all the attentions usual to comfort toys.

Until, that is, we went mad and brought home a puppy called Jasper.

Remember those fireworks? Those singing angels? The chiming bells? We heard them all again the first time Jasper laid eyes on Mousie. Jasper is obsessed with poor old Mousie. Whenever the bedtime cry of “Where’s Mousie?” goes up in our house, you can be sure that Mousie is being loved by Jasper somewhere out in the back yard.

An interesting fact of nature is that puppies have far sharper teeth than children do. And puppies have a propensity to chew. Anything. (Everything, in fact.) Especially if they love something as much as Jasper loves Mousie.

First it was an ear. A big, floppy, lovely to hold between the fingers and stroke mindlessly ear. I nearly cried, but the Bear, like the loyal little trooper he is, merely looked at Mousie, touched the place where his ear once was, and snuggled Mousie under his chin.

Then it was the other ear. Mousie soldiered on. Then an arm. Mousie was beginning to look like he’d been in the trenches. All this made no difference to the Bear. And wash after wash, this brave little mouse hung together.

Then Jasper decided to eat Mousie’s other arm. Then his right leg. By now, the re-christened Daniel Day-Mousie was left with his head, his torso, and his…er…left foot. But still Mousie soldiers on. And the Bear teaches us all about true love, as seen through the eyes of a child.