And he is a generous bastard.

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But her his mother can’t cook turkey for shit. Dry, fucking indigestible strings of wood chip goodness. She Santa needed the reminder of why she he cooked Christmas dinner every year since she he was 19.

And has no memory of Christmas dinner as a child. Was probably Apricot chicken…..

Santa has amazing powers. He managed to walk shit snow all over my carpet. From the North Pole. On the other side of the world. Fucking amazing.

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Pity he can’t make the plastic wrapping around the toys disappear….

But he is not so amazing that he can stop the plague of men everywhere. Male pattern baldness. Fucker left whiskers everywhere.

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And apparently his teeth aren’t too good either, cause there is a half bitten homemade truffle left on the plate. Must be his teeth, cause he would have loved it. Cause I am they were awesome.

The kids were beside themselves with their Christmas gifts. The last thing Boo said last night was:

‘Will Santa bring Hyperdash?’

Me: ‘Well he will if you have been a good boy!’

Boo: ‘I am…. now.’

The first thing out of his mouth this morning:

‘Has Santa brought my Hyperdash?’, then ‘Is this my Hyperdash?’, ‘WHERE IS MY HYPERDASH!’

When he finally opened it, Santa breathed a huge sigh of relief. But now Santa wants to hide the fucking thing in the cupboard cause if she he hears ‘Are you ready to dash?’ one more freaking time tonight she he will staple the kid to the wall and shove it up his arse.

Santa didn’t forget Mummy this year. I got a dressing gown that I picked up the other day while replacing my panties that keep ‘disappearing’ that is just my size. And a bluetooth mouse for my computer. That would go missing in five minutes if it wasn’t for the fact that some arsehole keeps playing with something on HIS computer and causing my computer to no longer recognise the mouse… Oh and the fact that a bluetooth mouse was no-fucking-where on the laundry list of things that I gave him to choose from for me. A domain name? Nup. Shoes? Nup. A weekend away? Nup. Jewellery? Nup. A new phone? No sireee. Should I go on? Nup.

Santa spoiled the girls with a keyboard and punching bag for Too and a gawd daymn exxy graphics tablet for Moo. Other junky stuff and this each:

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Santa’s helper is a clever little vegemite. He was able to build 2 computers and turn them into Mac’s.

Got to Mum and Dad’s for Christmas jaw workout lunch and there were more gifts from the jolly fat guy!

The hall table that I specifically told Santa I didn’t want. I wanted the one next to it. The one that matched my furniture…. but I guess I can’t blame him, it was supposed to be my present last year.

My brother Santa left the most awesome present till last. A Wii. And Guitar Hero 3. And 2 more games. The girls nearly fainted. And have been attached to it ever since. Except when we dragged them away for 15mins to eat something other than chocolate. Too scored 250 in bowling. Apparently that is good. So good in fact she found it necessary to ring my father tonight to shatter his top score and crush his victory to inform him. Moo fancies herself as the next Eric Clapton or Jimmy Hendrix. If she actually knew who the fuck they were…

There is wrapping paper everywhere. Toys and shit strewn all over the furniture, floors, walls, light fittings. We ate leftovers, chocolate and the Christmas essential

images1.jpeg for dinner. I am about to drag Boo to bed while Moo and Too play the Wii with my brother. Need a good nights sleep cause we are putting up the fort/cubby/extension on the house tomorrow.

All in all it was a lovely Christmas day. Despite what I say. I got gifts, kisses and hugs from my kids, to see my brother revel in being able to give my kids the Most. Awesome. Present. Eva. eat copious amounts of chocolate, not cook at all all day and drink myself into a stupor with far too much wine.

Which spawned this post.

I will leave you now to hopefully sleep it off with a link to Kim’s blog. She took the most fantastic Santa photo ever. Pop over and check it out!

And pop over to WhyMommy’s blog, she has had the best Christmas news. Made me weep with joy.

❤ Whymommy.

Ho Ho Ho!

Take that as you will.

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Today we went out to lunch.

At a restaurant that didn’t ask if you wanted fries with that. Well, they asked if we wanted garlic bread and if they didn’t the sign said that they would give it to us for free.

But it had cutlery and shit. So as restauranty as we Magneto Bolds get right now.

We took up a large table with all the relatives left over from my Dads party the day before.

Boo, still showing the effects of the ear infections, ulcerated throat, antibiotic overload and ripping out one of his teeth

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because it was bothering him, was still in anti-Autism mode. So we took the plunge to do something normal……

He he he. Some would call me delusional….. you would be right.

Food was ordered. Gasps were heard over the prices of the steak ($30!!!!). Bodily functions were discussed.

Yes, we are White Trash.

As we were a large table, the food came out in waves. Of course Boo was last. How hard is it to serve the kid first? All he ordered was a freaking bowl of chips.

The kid was on his 2nd glass of kiddie crack lemonade when his bowl finally came out. He inhaled them he was so hungry.

‘Excuse me waiter! Hey garcon!’ my little angel bellowed complete with clicking his fingers in the general direction of the kitchen ‘More chips please!’

‘No Dude, you have had enough’ I finally spluttered after almost choking on my chicken and having to pick my Auntie off the floor where she was writhing with mirth.

‘Oh’ my dejected little connoisseur muttered.

The waitress walked past after serving another table.

‘Excuse me server!’ he bellowed again ‘I need more lemonade. Oh, and pleeeeeeaase!’

He beamed at me. Proud for using his manners.

The woman glared at him and then me and walked away.

Now this classy establishment is a place where you go to the counter, order your meal and then they bring it to the table. There is no table service.

Unless you put your feet on the table. Then you get lots of table attention. But that was our previous visit.

I took Boo up to the counter to order a lemonade. That is when I discovered that he had taken off his shoes….

and his pants.

Hmmmm.

OK, back to the table. Redressed and back to the counter. He ordered his drink and we wandered back to the table where Mario-porn-star had started the political discussion that I warned him not to before we arrived.

Warned is probably not strong enough a word. More like talk-about-the-election-and-I-will-tape-electrodes-to-your-testicles-while-you-sleep threat. My family gets rather heated when it comes to all things political. And it doesn’t help that we are on very different sides of the fence.

I glared at Mario-porn-star, he clutched his testicles and Moo turned to Too and laughed. My girls have learnt early the way to strike terror in a mans heart.

We paid the bill, lamented that it was half my grocery bill for the week and made our way home.

No tears. No tantrums. No balls in a vice.

A total success! Well for our family anyway.

We are all still full from lunch so we are having a light dinner.

And Boo is eating a stick he found in the garden. Tasty.

I was a good little 50’s housewife today.

Replete with apron and self satisfied smirk.

Oh, I went the whole nine yards today, even helped out at school putting away fucking books sorting the readers in the reader room. For 2 and a half HOURS. Boo better get the teacher I want next year or I swear in front of God and all the internets that I will mess up that room GOOD.

Muttering death chants Dancing around the house with my feather duster, vacuum and mop, picking up after my little arseholes angels while seething and trying to ignore tending to my pathetic sick husband and daughter.

And there is more! Oh yes my lovelies, I cooked something for dinner that I have never ever cooked. Something that my kids have given up begging for cause I could never stomach making it.

Tripe? Black Pudding? Monkey brains?

Nope. Steak. Bletch. Mashed potatoes (OK but I prefer mashed sweet potato) and peas.

My aversion to great hunking slabs of animal flesh stems from my childhood.

My mother was a shite cook limited in her abilities in the kitchen. Her repertoire consisted of roast lamb on Sundays, apricot chicken (even the smell of apricot nectar sends me heaving) ‘mexican sausages’ (sausages boiled in tomato soup served with rice. Where is the freaking ‘mexican’ in there?) and either sausages or chops. So tough that we built up some pretty impressive arms cutting the bastards.

The sausages and chops were served with any combination of the following:

Home made chips. Sliced potatoes cooked in lukewarm oil till they were slightly warm and soggy and still raw in the middle. A pretty impressive feat really.

Mashed potato. I think she would lose interest halfway through mashing. So in reality potatoes with the shit boiled out of them and then slightly drained.

For a treat on a hot night we would have potato chips (or crisps).

Served with peas swimming in a sea of butter.

Sometimes Dad would go into the kitchen and make us omelette’s or pancakes.

Herbs were for hippies and spices were table salt and white pepper.

When I first left home I literally lived on spicy stirfries for a year!

So I have been living out of home since I was 18 and have never ever cooked a steak.

But today I was being the good little 50’s housewife, without the help of ‘Mothers little helper’ of my grandmothers day. Valium.

I did shopping, put it away, cleaned up after the little arseholes angels again and threw the hunking great lumps of bloody flesh on the George Forman.  Left the room a couple of times in disgust and then served it up to the salivating animals my darling family.

Too’s eyes lit up.  Moo swooned.  DH was jumping up and down with glee.

‘You are the best Mummy in the whole wide world’ exclaimed my carnivores as they gnashed their jaws on the pieces of cow.

I kept replaying that in my mind as I scrubbed George clean.

Then I made myself some toast.

****************

I will post the pictures of my new shoes tomorrow.

Photo of the shoes. On or off?

In the box or modeled?

Modeled by me or Moo. Too can’t cause she is seriously broken (at the doctors right now), Boo will eat them (or shit on them..) and DH…… well he doesn’t know about them yet.

Oh and guys, you can vote too. Don’t want to be sexist or anything, just guys don’t tend to get excited about shoes, unless that is all the woman is wearing…….

*snigger* this can technically count as a NaPo- whatever post!

The party is over.

One more to go, but six days to recover.

Boo had a wonderful time. The kids were well behaved. A couple I wanted to strangle. A couple I want to adopt. 10 kids didn’t show, 6 had tummy bugs and their parents called to apologise –WOW – one mum went as far as popping over before the party to say J wasn’t coming but here is Boo’s present anyway……. How cool is that!

27 kids. 5 surly teenagers until the 6 month old baby came, then marshmallows in Emo garb. 4 adults. 3 conversations with the ‘ferals’ – one of them is growing a freaking BEARD! So I asked her how she liked my t-shirt. Bwaaaa haaa haaa!

Everyone but T had a good time. T is a tiny little dynamo, blindingly street smart with amazing blue eyes. She drives me nuts sometimes she is so freaking adult, but I love the kid. She was having a good time until I had to tell her off. She was on the trampoline with a boy and beating the living shit out of him.

It was a fun wrestling game that quickly got out of hand after she had eaten her body weight in unicorn turds (aka mini meringues). She was physically picking him up and body slamming him down. The boy (also T) was trying to save face cause T is half his size. But enough was enough. I ended up having to scream at T to get off him.

He’s all like ‘It didn’t hurt’,  ‘I’m OK’,  ‘I let her do it’ (so brave for a 7 year old) limping into the house trying to hide his tears. I sat T down and told her that she really shouldn’t do that cause she could get hurt one day when someone fights back.

‘Don’t worry Kelley, I can take care of myself’

Damn right she can. She scares me!

So T spent the rest of the party sulking. Refusing cake, icypoles and further turns on the trampoline. She sat out the potions class and pretended to be unimpressed with the teens ‘exploding’ experiments. Oh, it was so wife-pissed-off-at-husband-get-back-by-punishing-myself, I was stunned.  And amused.

Boo got some amazingly thoughtful gifts, adorable cards (lots of ‘you are a good friend’, ‘I love you’, ‘we are best friends’ handwritten cards *sob*) and some what-the-fuck presents.

The 2 blocks of DAIRY MILK chocolate from the woman I was lamenting having to do everything dairy free to and she gave me a fucking RECIPE. WTF?

This make your own animation thingy that plugs into the TV…. oooh it is so cool! AMAZING!

A dirty ball. You could have fucking washed it first before re-gifting dickhead. WTF

The mum that called from out the front to ask what to buy Boo….. I told her $5 in a card is perfect. She walked in the door 1 minute later, $10 in a generic card……. LMAO

Tons of artist supplies. Pens, paper, paints, sketch pads, textas, crayons, artist canvas, coloured pencils, charcoal….. Boo will be set for at least a month 🙂 BRILLIANT

The weather was perfect. A little warm but the rain held off. Thank you everyone for doing those little anti rain dances for me.

After everyone had gone and Boo had enough time to decompress, he came to me.

‘You know what Mummy?’

‘What my Boo?’

‘It was a great party’

‘Yes it was precious. Did you have a good time’

‘I did. Fun was had by all’

Yes, indeed. Everything was so worth it just to have that conversation with my Boo.

You rock Boo. Now it is 10.30pm, get the fuck to sleep.

***************

I will update the party blog with more details and photos over the next couple of days. Right now I have a hot date with a huge glass of red and a footspa.

We have had a lovely couple of days. Freaking busy, but I think the kids have been happy.

Seems I scored with both kids getting them what they wanted.

And Boo didn’t ask once about his taxi and icecream freezer!

The kids have been playing outside together over the last couple of days and it has been hilarious. Boo has discovered ‘Charlies Angels’ and makes Moo and Too pose as Angels and he is Charlie.

And then they shoot each other with water pistols.

I have updated the party blog a couple of times tonight with photos of cakes and deco’s and the like. Pop over and have a look!

magneto bold too party

Now I am off to clear my bed of lots of shit from all over the house, curl up in bed and enjoy some aloneness until Boo decides to wake up or DH comes to bed!

But before I go, tomorrow is supposed to be hot and thunderstorms.  Remember my bitchy request to rain on that ferals daughters party?  Be a love and do the opposite for tomorrow will ya?  Just until about 5pm ish.  It can bucket down after that (preferably when the feral is getting out of her car…… bwaaa haaa haaa) just fine weather and not hot for the duration of Boo’s birthday extravaganza.

Oh and see if you can squeeze your deity for Boo to hold it together and not have a meltdown during the party?

Thanks.  Ta.

Some would say why bother writing a letter to Boo, he isn’t going to read it and if he does he won’t understand. I say, I was told this boy wouldn’t do any of the things he has achieved, who knows what the future holds. And if he is 40 when he reads this letter, then I am cool with that. And if he never reaches the point where he can truly understand it, cool again. As my Moo says….. its all good.

My Boo,

My booful boy. My precious little man.

My forever baby.

Oh, how we wanted you. For years Daddy and I tried for you with many losses along the way. But, although hard, they were necessary for us to have such a wonderful little man at the right time. When you were born we were ready. Your sisters were ready. We were all ready for the lessons you would soon teach us. Patience, strength, persistence, courage and pure love.

I remember when you were born. Such a calm birth compared to your sisters. The doctor handed you to me and I held you. Something I didn’t get to do with the girls, I was too sick. In recovery I fed you straight away. You stared deep into my eyes and I wept. The connection was there from the first few minutes.

I remember our first morning together. Daddy had to go to work and I was still in the hospital. We were so lucky to be in a hospital where the Daddies got to stay. We had our own room and a queen sized bed. The three of us together. I had the radio on to listen to Daddy and so you could hear his voice.

‘Don’t want to miss a thing’ by Aerosmith came on. I know it is a love song, but the words fit perfectly to how I felt about you. I could not stop staring into your perfect little face. To this day that song makes me cry. Happy tears.

Then you turned blue. Three times you had to stop breathing before the nurses would take me seriously. Then all hell broke loose. We lost our cocoon and you were transferred to the special needs nursery. How ironic.

For 18 months you had a breathing monitor attached to your body. Affectionately coined the ‘ticker’ it made a ‘mysterious ticking noise’ whenever you took a breath. If it was dislodged or you stopped breathing a deafening alarm would go off. It didn’t need to. I was so attuned to the ticking I knew before it went off.

Just after we graduated from the ticker you were diagnosed with Autism. My little genius boy, who was reading and writing already just choosing not to speak was…….. different.

We developed our own little language in sign.

I love you.

Want more.

Cuddle

And my favourite. You are my sunshine.

We would sing it together all the time. In the car, on walks, in the park, at the supermarket. In voice and in sign. Your eyes would light up when I would sing and you would grab my hands to make me sign it too.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are grey

You will never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away….

Boo, you are my sunshine. I might complain about sleeplessness and destruction, but as I sit here, in the pre-dawn of your 9th birthday, with you laying next to me – Daddy relegated to your bed as is quite often the case – I gaze at you and realise how lucky I am.

Nothing comes easy in your life. You are constantly bombarded by sounds, images, smells that distract or distress you. Yet you have come so far. Much further than anyone ever hoped for. You are a true miracle. A lesson in determination. And in pure innocent joy.

Whenever I need to remember, I just have to watch you eat an apple, play on the computer, hear a new song or give you a tickle or cuddle. Pure Innocent Joy.

My forever baby, we are one.

Love Mummy.

xxxx

P.S. I hope you like your presents. They are not what your asked for but firstly, you are not old enough to drive a taxi. Secondly, Streets icecream won’t let me have one of their freezers unless we own a store. And lastly, I have tried to get you are real movie clapperboard but Mr. Speilberg won’t return my calls. But I am on it. This is the one, right?

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