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.

Big in Japan

It is time to face facts, even for a toddler, the Nazgul is just plain weird. Around Crap Headquarters we are pretty used to some of her more interesting behaviours and don't really blink when a new one crops up, after all we are usually busy wondering why Rainman is biting his own shoes or trying to black out the last 3hr soliloquy on Pokemon. This week she has been ill and has developed a penchant for carrying around, what can only be described as "security cheese", this is a small piece of cheese that she has no intention of eating but is comforted by carrying it around until it has bred enough bacteria to ensure intestinal damage, and then attempting to force feed it to me.
We have become accustomed to the fact that the Nazgul prefers to communicate largely in sound effects and a series of intricate hand gestures that are bordering on interpretive dance. But ultimately we are reliant on The Screech (from which springs the inspiration for the moniker "The Nazgul") and our ability to interpret it's varying pitch in order to understand what the Nazgul wants. I actually didn't think she was "that bad" (My first husband and I now have the catch cry of "well at least she is not as bad as Rainman was at this age") until today, while I was talking to a friend (and proud owner of 3 small psychopaths of her own) The Nazgul didn't get it's own way and therefore subjected me to the shriek, my friend thought it was so hilarious that she asked me to video it and that's when it hit me...no, not all kids do this, just ones I have sculpted (I should had a few clues that perhaps we were breeding something rather special here,  when we went to a sleep centre when the Nazgul was 10 months old, and the nurses who had spent 40+ yrs in the industry heard her down the corridor and said "What the hell is that").
So onto today where I managed to hit a new parenting milestone. The Nazgul was particularly displeased with having to wear trousers to pick up Rainman from school, we had already had a WWE style wrestling session trying to get them on her and I was walking down the street pushing a pram containing a convulsing, shrieking little wreck who was pulling her shoes and socks off (she lists hurling shoes onto busy roads as one of her hobbies) when a group of Asian women were startled by the sight, or more accurately - the sound, of us. One actually made movements to cross the road with the same look on her face as if there were a pack of demented wolves roving the neighbourhood but then had a better idea,  she stayed and one of her friends filmed the tantrum. Yes, bask in my awesome parenting, my kids are now so badly behaved members of the general public video their antics. When I told My First Husband about the incident, he just said "Did you tell them to fuck off*?" in such a way that I suspect he had seen this coming.
So hold on for the next youtube sensation "Dangerously unhinged white baby"

*Please note, this is a pretty standard response from My First Husband, who one day announced "You know a stranger is just someone I haven't told to fuck off yet"