A Day in the Life: Tuesday 20th September

Ahhh, Music Class Day, and day where the Nazgul pushes my awesome parenting into uncharted territory (RainMan has reserved Wednesdays aka Swimming Day as his very special, how much can I make Mum weep day of the week). Things were going a little too well as I tried to get ready to take her, she had eaten some breakfast and let My First Husband dress her without any evidence of the usual psychosis (e.g.the latest one is, she loved a shirt I bought her recently until I convinced her the picture was of a dog not a cat as she believed, now when she realises that is the shirt she has on she shrieks and tries to rip it off her the same one someone would if their shirt was aflame). And I had even been to the toilet without her attempting to stab me with some sort of writing implement. They only hiccup was RainMan chanting "Mum looks mental, Mum looks mental" then when I told him to shut his cake hole, he said "I am going to put up a sign in minecraft that says My Mum looks completely mental"...like he is ever going to be allowed to use the PC again.

The offensive non-cat T-shirt

Both my children have a gift, that they can sense when I am trying to apply mascara and they unleash a shit storm. While we were saying bye to RainMan and My First Husband as they left for the day (we are old school so RainMan walks to school with his Dad, it is close to 4ks) I saw that what I had referred to in my mind as "independent play" was actually the Nazgul spitting inside my shoes that were on the floor. Shortly after they left she unleashed the 1st barrage, she lay in wait until the mascara wand was poised to cause the most damage to my cornea and then threw a massive paddle brush onto my toes shouting "Ohhhh Noooo" and pissing herself laughing as I rolled around swearing and sweating until the pain subsided enough for me to assess the damage to my toes and then allow the wave of pain from my maybeline stabbed eye to drown me for a time.
When I had been through my self administered triage and suitably recovered to attempt make up application again, she was careful to bide her time until the mascara wand was back in position and then flung herself off the ground and onto my legs and began twisting, moaning "Mmmmuuuummm, Mmmmuuuummm" when this didn't elicit the hoped for occular injury she reverted to her old favourite of taking a run up and ramming her dolls pram into my shins shouting "No Bubba, Nooo Buubbba, No Bubba" (English translation: I no longer wish to play with my doll and yet for some reason rather than walk away, I keep going. This irritates me somewhat and therefore my Mother shall suffer the consequences). I have to say my new look probably fits in with RainMan's earlier assessment, although I call it "Relentlessly abused by an unbalanced toddler chic".
After much struggle I bribed her with cheese to sit in the pram and we were off. It is fortuitous that I leave my ipod at home when out with the Nazgul, had I had it in I would have missed the soundtrack she provided of "Daaa-iiiieee, My Daaa-iiieee" (English Translation: Daddy, My Daddy) over and over and over until I think some blood came out of my ear. Luckily we ran into My First Husband on the way and following the encounter she added crying to the I want my Dad, you are shit symphony.
This was coupled with the permanent sense of absence that has joined my life since my sister left for Valhalla, so imagine my glee when approaching the hall for music class there was a lone council worker, resplendent in his fluro orange vest belting out, tv talent show style, John Farnham's "You're the Voice". I don't think I have ever seen anyone let rip on the roadside like this guy, with his eyes closed and arms flung wide...I could hear him as I walked down the road with squinty eyes, damaged toes and a mangled heart, and I couldn't help but think "Well things aren't that bad after all".

 Post Script: Since writing the above I have had to take the Nazgul out in extreme wind to pick up RainMan from school. He is in fine form today, as the Nazgul was crying for her father after a massive gust blew grit into her eyes, I am pushing the pram and trying to calm her, he decides it is the opportune moment to shove a mangled pipe cleaner ridiculously close to my face and say "What animal is this Mum?", to which I replied "It's a pipe cleaner not an animal" then through a bizarre combination of elimination and intense frustration we determined he had 'sculpted' it into a flamingo. 30 secs later we rounded the corner where I was disturbed to see a gentleman driving at high speed backwards while smoking cigarillo and scowling, when RainMan saw fit to thrust the abomination into my face again and say "What's this again?" So I said "a flamingo" to which he replied "no no not that",  Ahh a pipe cleaner Rainman, its a pipe cleaner and a yet another piece of my brain died for my own protection. Shortly after we were waiting to cross at an incredibly busy T intersection when RainMan unexpectedly shouts "Now, you can cross NOW",  I instinctively yelled "RAINMAN SHUT UP". Once across the road he said narkily "Well I just didn't see that car" oblivious to the fact there were FIVE at least. And now seeing him run past frantically holding the front of his trousers, I am certain I am in for one of those afternoons.

Grief V's The Toddler.

Well I have been kind of quiet in cyber space, and I guess in general. My beautiful sister and greatest fan died a week and a bit ago and everything I try to say since comes out kind of weird and wrong, the massive dangling snot from my nose when I sobbed my way through trying to read something at her funeral is a prime example of this. Many people came up to me afterwards and said I was "brave" for my attempt, who knew public boogey mishaps could be inspiring.
Like most things, not even the proximity to death could slow the Nazgul down. While on the whole she was tame, by her standards, she does get an honourable mention for unbridled mentalness during a difficult time. Sitting by my sister's death bed I was pouring my heart out, thanking her for introducing me to my husband and whispering many secrets and truths that are only for her and I. As a kissed her and stroked her forehead I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see the Nazgul repeatedly stabbing a banana with my keys, Charles Manson style. Now as a Sydney-sider bananas are to us what cows are to the Hindu, so I was absolutely gutted to see my angelic looking daughter going helter skelter on the precious fruit. Which she subsequently peeled, attempted to eat but rejected due the the texture.
Obviously, things were pretty strange for the Nazgul after her Aunty died and she had an amazing coping mechanism of re-enacting scenes from Riddley Scott's Alien and attaching herself to my face all night and refusing to sleep. It reached a peak one night where while attached to my face her affection tipped over into insanity and she began kissing my face, graduated into repeatedly biting my face, then bit and sucked on my lip resulting in some quite spectacular bruising and teeth marks. I have to admit that at 3am a crazed toddler gnawing at your face can make you more than a tad frightened.
When the family was discussing the funeral arrangements with the undertaker I was quite pleased that the Nazgul was amusing herself quietly, just muttering "Bubble, bubble, bubble" to herself. She had very calmly covered the floor, herself and many of my sisters books in an entire bottle of bubble mix.  While highly annoying and slippery, it did highlight the fact that after spending over a week away from Rainman and My First Husband her speech improved dramatically. Turns out she could talk after all, just couldn't get a word in edge ways.