I don’t care about the whole tradition of giving the kids some magic through a long standing custom of make believe, nor the whole you shouldn’t lie to your kids line of thought. I’m doing this because it is behavioural currency gold, pure and simple.

There are only two nights a year that you can get a spirited four year old into bed by 7:30 pm, and this is one of them.

I hope the Tooth Fairy gets a look in before A’s precocious sense of logic wins out. Although I am not holding my breath.

Either way I am looking forward to tomorrow morning, the delighted surprise of A and the gleeful hollers of “Tchocky!!” from E.

Happy Easter everyone.

There was a return steam train ride, a carousel, jumping castle, a mini train ride and sauasge sandwiches to be had. Kid- and parent- heaven.

All in all a lovely family day to mark the end of mr hissychick’s holidays, and the start of my own two week countdown to returning to work. Gulp.

Still let’s not think about that. I’d rather leave you with some lyrics from the Thomas theme song that I mentioned earlier:

Emily really knows her stuff
James is vain but lots of fun.

I’ll leave it up to you dear internets, to work out which one is most apt….

Yesterday was on the whole a rather enjoyable day, with the highs* mostly outweighing the lows **.  There was lots of delectable food, plenty of time spent with Melbourne family (and whole lot of phone tag with my Sydney based one), the odd tantrum or seven (I will save that for another post) and not nearly enough wine consumption by me (but what I did imbibe was delicious).

Hope you all had a lovely day too.

And just so you know, this post is coming to you courtesy of my new precious, a rather generous Christmas gift from mr hissychick. One day I shall have to post a picture of our little nerd family, husband on his laptop, me on my nifty white netbook, A on her Dora laptop and E on her baby laptop. Hey, it’s better than matching haircuts and clothes. Maybe.

*A excitedly declaring to us that “Santa’s really been here!” as she spied her present sack and marvelled at the mess of crumbs, crumpled serviette, drained milk cup and carrot end (for the reindeers of course) left by the man in red. E unwrapping her very own baby born doll, a sister to A’s “Baby good”.

**A asking why Santa had not brought her the robot she had asked for, which was dealt with via yet another parental lie of Santa not knowing exactly which one A wanted, and requesting that she help pick one out for her birthday instead (truth was I couldn’t find a suitable robot that did not have a weapon of some kind, which I find highly objectionable).

I am thirty two, for dog’s sake, far too old for this teenage shit.

An anti-androgenic pill is obviously out for now, seeing as miss E still loves her boobie at the ripe old age of eighteen months old (today!).

However I really do need to get my pimply self to my GP, as along with the zits I have been putting up with a few other vague but annoyingly persistent symptoms such as fatigue, mood swings (who me? never), and weakness and numbness in my hands and feet especially in the morning. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget severe ovulation pain and bloating.  Thanks to Dr Google, I am wondering if I am starting to develop PCOS. 

Unless it’s my thyroid or iron levels. Again.

Either way I best put down the chocolate/ice cream/ fun festive treats and start cranking up a high protein/low GI diet and see if that makes a difference.  Apparently it does for teenage pizza face boys, so why not me?

Meh. Time to get back to wrapping Christmas presents for A’s two closest friends. We are all meeting up for a celebratory post Christmas concert/end of daycare for the year milkshake tomorrow afternoon. 

Even if it’s not low GI, it will be high on the parental gooeyness at seeing your child share some seasonal delight with her mates scale.

Please bear with me peoples. There’s many a tale to amuse you with, the good*, the bad** and the ugly***  and I will get back to you soon. Once the grossness that is iron supplement constipation is dealt with  I’m a bit less pale and woozy and more my blood pumpingly hissy self . Promise.

* the delectable environment and food of Tasmania, introducing myself and the kidlets to hithero unmet extended family, the fact that I did not have one single disagreement with the MIL for the entire holiday, both children doing better than expected with all of the travel, E learning to breastfeed again in public, A gaining confidence to speak to people outside of immediate family.

** Jetstar badly damaging our pram and the ensuing hoops we have to jump through to get it fixed at their expense, having E demand boo boo at the not most convenient times and locations (you ever tried to breastfeed a toddler on a plane, one who angrily kicks out at the drinks trolley when it has the audacity to get in her way?)

*** A throwing some of the most revolting tantrums and indulging in some of the most disgusting, defiant screaming behaviour we have seen thus far. Yes some of it was tiredness related but I was gobsmacked. And as you well know that does not happen very often. E cutting two bottom premolars and therefore refusing to sleep at night for over half of our holiday. Enough said.

As you can probably tell from all the nervous giggly energy not only was E’s tummy bug short lived, it was not transferred to anyone else either. Did someone say j to the inx?

The hissychicks are off to Melbourne tomorrow and from there to Tasmania on Saturday for seven nights. We can’t wait. A is beyond excitement at the thought of four trips on the plane in a week and a half, and already has her favourite doll Baby Good’s suitcase packed and ready to go.  If only I was that organised and streamlined.

I am currently in the middle of a washing and packing frenzy that I am sure the Mums will understand. I have of course packed far too many clothes and will naturally end up without the one vital pair of magical socks or something, and yet I am sure we’ll still exceed baggage limits. How is it that mr hissychick and I are able to squeeze ten days worth of stuff for us into one small suitcase (hilarious, given that I used to have the luxury of being so far from a light packer that my suitcase for a weekend trip would end up with one of those ‘watch your back’ tags) yet the girls thus far have a huge suitcase, a pram, another portable bed and a big carry on bag and I still can’t seem to squeeze in all the necessary gear?

So much to remember, so few brain cells left to process all information.

Sadly I’ve had to resort back to ‘sposies from now so that I could ensure that I leave my MCN stash all nice, dry and clean and ready for our return.  We don’t have the luxury of space to carry nappies, given that I have had to pack for temperatures ranging from below ten at night to a possible thirty during the day when we are back on the mainland. I’d forgotten how weird plasticky nappies smell, and I already miss patting E’s soft minky clad bottom.  Silly hippy freak that I am.

Fingers crossed all goes well. We will have quite a packed agenda and four changes of accommodation so I hope that the girls adapt and cope with going with the flow.  No that is not my hysterical laughter you can hear.

Either way I am sure I can flog a blog post or seven out of whatever shenanigans lay ahead of us.

Take care internets, and I look forward to catching up on our return checking in from time to time because mr hissychick had the foresight to organise a wireless prepaid dongle for the laptop so we can hop online as necessary.

Heh. I said dongle.

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.