Elevenses

Last year, when our little crew of Mothers Group First-Borns turned 10, Astrid, Jenny and I decided to mark the occasion and their fledgling grown-up-ness by taking them out with us for a special dinner. Then, as the months slid past us, we realised that such things really couldn't be organised in a hurry, and that we'd likely need at least a year to find a suitable night and make a booking at a restaurant ... Anyway, last night, we finally marked their 10th -and 11th!- birthdays and took them out, just the 6 of us, no dads, no siblings.



Eleven is a lovely age, and our trio of 11-year-olds were delightful company. They were pleased and excited to be going out with each other and their mums, they were mature about trying new foods (we went to a Jimmy's Greek Tavern, and they ate calamari and saganaki and octopus and gyros lamb - there's no way I could have fed that sort of dangerous food to Cherub, he is on to me and never lets me poison him), their table manners were good, their conversation was fun and funny, and because they are so very mature now, there was no whingeing, bickering, fighting or toy-stealing.  Jen, Astrid and I were very well-behaved too.  We always enjoy each others' company.



We went out on Day 3 of the heatwave, not realising that the restaurant had no air-conditioning, (it actually wasn't too bad except for sweaty knees) so it was decided that although we'd polished off the mixed dessert plate (mmm, baklava!) we still needed a little more, and drove over to Gelobar for some massive icecreams that we ate as the storm rolled in.  Actually, all three of them were defeated by their towering 3-flavour gelati and some Brunswick possums may have been left a little birthday treat. It was a very nice night indeed.

But just to prove they're only halfway to being all growed up yet, here is the funny-face photo they insisted needed to be taken.



You've come a long way, babies ... or have you?

Organised.

The tall son (pictured here with his haul from the Swimming Carnival yesterday: a [close!] 3rd for backstroke, a [close] 4th for breaststroke and a well-done or 5th for butterfly) has gone off to Grade 5/6 Camp until Friday. I hope he has a great time.  He was feeling reasonably confident about this - in previous years he enjoyed the camp activities but disliked the general off-the-leash craziness from the other kids, particularly at bedtime. Climber is a child who needs his sleep.  But this year he is in a cabin with boys he says he can stand up to if they give him a hard time. The confidence of being a Grade 6, it's a good thing.



So just me and the small son tonight. Rattling round the house together. He has popped out of bed once already to tell me that he can't get to sleep, because he has no brother to talk to.  Aw.



Mister Fixit, meanwhile, is off at work, under his new regime of doing one week day-shift and one week evenings.  I have to tell you that, actually and unexpectedly, this is far more onerous for me than it is for him.  He gets to potter round in the daytime every second week, plus organise the odd  business-hours type stuff that he never usually gets time for, like motorbike-boot repairs.  He enjoys leisurely coffees after school drop-off.  He can take big walks so that his fitness improves.  I rather think he likes it. Meanwhile I now have to do the cooking and the washing up on those weeks, do all the babysitter organising so that the kids are cared for while I work my job 3 nights a week, plus tie myself in knots trying to fulfil their after-school sports commitments, some of which happen while I'm at work.  And this on top of organising everything else that happens in this family like grocery and washing and tidying and school admin and bills and everything, not to mention keeping on top of my tap school business! Oh sorry, did I just rant at you?  Maybe I am a touch sore because Fixit accused me on Saturday morning of NOT BEING ORGANISED; because despite directing operations so that the kids were dressed and fed, the lunches were made, the sports gear & my tap stuff assembled, while all he did was go to the chiropractor and eat breakfast, I didn't quite allow enough time to buy coffee en route and asked him if he'd get me one in the hour he had to spare before cricket. Geez, soooooo unorganised. And just quietly, it's not as much help having him there on school mornings as he might think.  I already have that routine down pat, so him bellowing secondary chivvies at the kids is just annoying really.  My primary chivvies are quite sufficient and effective, no need for an echo. Still, it's a period of adjustment.  Once I get it all together and stop having to organise everything all the time, I might relax.  We did go and see a movie together, and that was fun.



Meanwhile, you'll be pleased to know that the expensive cat repairs have totally paid off. Basil and Fixit, working as a team, caught a mouse we found sunning itself on the loungeroom windowsill.  Basil was mostly in charge of small space retrieval, Fixit was in charge of hefting wall units around and whacking the mouse unconscious with a heavy ornamental glass plate.  My sister was in charge of action photography and no-one was in charge of dusting behind the wall unit.

Qualified.

Seriously need to catch up on this here blog, and I definitely will, because my life is almost in control with all that back-to-school and tap rigmarole, but just quickly LOOK, LOOK, LOOK!



Mister Fixit is qualified!  We're still to negotiate the job and pay side of it all, but there's his certificate right there in his qualified mechanical engineer hand!  I am completely proud of him.  (And I made him ring his Mum!)