(His) Favourite Things

What a mission this week was ...

• Sweeney's preschool was flooded out and stayed closed for three days;
• Sweeney's grandad spent three nights in hospital with severe bellyache;
• Sweeney popped into work with me for 11.4 minutes and provided us all with visual confirmation of what Running Rampant actually means. Also Gleeful Shrieking and Telling Your Mother's Boss Secret Things About Her;
• Consequently, the next day, Sweeney had a heap of quality-face-time with Joe and Harper;
• We said to goodbye to John from No.20. The quality of street gossip is never going to recover;
• Paths were swept and hosed;
• Frank from No.21 popped over for a visit;
• Rubbish was taken to the dump;
• Delicious stroganoff was concocted and snorkelled down with delicious noodles. Take that, you annoying quantity of crisper-dwelling mushrooms and half-cups of wine left over from Sunday night dinners ...;
• My hair kind of did what I wanted it to, most days;
• Which was just as well, because a photo of me ended up in the paper. Turns out that more important than the Important Social Message I was imparting was the fact that I have an actual age, and semi-Vulcan eyebrows;
• Lamb shanks as big as Sweeney's face, along with some awesome cauliflower curry and other stuff that didn't really match but still tasted amaaaaaazing, were served up for dinner with the W-Ds and M-Zs; and
• The sun shone, the birds sang, the wind blew in rather a pleasant way, there was some insanely lovely full moon action ...

Sweeney scored a boogie board at the Dump Shop today, and a Spiderman toy. At that point, I noticed that he was wearing his full Spiderman outfit, and had been all day. Top marks for eyes, Ange.

Harper and Kimberley came for dinner, and, out of nowhere, Sweeney gave Harper custody of Pooh.

Just like that. His favourite, favourite of All the Favourites since he was ten weeks old. We even prop him up with us to let him enjoy us reading Winnie the Pooh at night better. Sweeney uses him as a pillow, half the time. Last night, when we got home at the ungodly hour of 9:45pm, and he was about three feet beyond knackered, the look of relief on his face as I plopped him into bed and he buried his head into Pooh's soft fur was just magic.

Spiderman is the New Favourite. I know this because he's taken his boogie board to bed, and is lying asleep on it, using Spiderman as his pillow.
*Note that the boys kindly selected Bert for Kimberley to play with, so she could feel all included and stop giving her own child The Rabbit ...

Be My Friend

Here's a gratuitous picture of Harper, holding onto as many Easter eggs as he can, in the midst of the first Easter Egg hunt I've ever set up.

I researched hard, planned on laying out a trail of red ribbon or wool for the boys to follow, setting it all up so that the boys would be enticed to the next egg.

In the event, I put the eggs out in pretty obvious places and lurked near the boys as they careered aimlessly around the garden, shouting "hot!" or "warm!" or "get out of the vege garden!"

Smoooooooth ...

In other news, Sweeney got a gorgeous postcard from his friend Blessing today. Blessing and Sweeney are joined at the hip, Monday to Friday. Outside of that time, they make many of their decisions based on what they figure the other would do. They have long, complicated games that they play over days, involving dogs, cars, firemen, trains, tents, tigers. I love how race and difference really is just a fact to them, nothing more or less - not something to be judged or feared or disliked.

Although I found it weird that Sweeney insisted that the box of lemonade popsicles are for him, and the box of cola ones are for Blessing.

Anyhoo, he's amassed a little stack of nice things people have given him to say how much they like him being in their lives, and I realise I'm terribly offhand about it all. I'm terrible at sending thank you cards, slack about calling people, irregular at answering emails.

Sorry about that, people. You know who you are, and you mean lots.

Big Hair Gets You Closer to God

I didn't make it up. Read this.

In other news, this is what we had for dinner tonight. Photo by Sweeney.

Here's a ripping yarn I found for Sweeney today, plus his artwork from preschool. He made that picture especially for me. That's a first. Photo by me.

And this is what I look like tonight. Photo by Sweeney.

Baby, It's You ...

and you and you and you ... so many babies being born over the last few weeks, so many birthday parties lately. I say Hurrah!! More cake, please ...

I've been off the air, blog-wise, for a few weeks now. We've been doing stuff around here, believe me. Nothing Big and Important, but stuff nonetheless. Here's a smattering to catch up with ...

• the world's greatest nephew, Harper G-Ray, turned two and there was a party to celebrate. I made a cake. Not wanting to toot my own horn, but it was terrific;
• the neighbours came over for dinner. Sweeney nearly lost his mind with glee at having Frank and Arthur in his house;
• Sweeney slipped on a banana peel - yes, really - while goofing off on the stairs and tipped over the edge, falling five feet to the concrete floor below. All turned out well, but there was an ambulance and a trip to ED and a scan and parental gastric reflux and a day of watching him closely for wonkiness before I was sure that it had all turned out well;
• I made some wee socks for my friend Girlie's baby, who's due in May;
• I cooked macaroni cheese approximately twelve hundred times. Or maybe it just felt like that;
• an enormous truck with a digger on it went down our street yesterday morning. I've never seen so many little boys out on the street at 7am before;
• I found a shop near my work that makes the most splendid apple slice, so to celebrate, I ate one every work day for three weeks. I think that may have been partly responsible for the devastating experience I had on Saturday with my favourite jeans;
• we went to watch the skateboarding champs last Friday;
• I had the least enjoyable dinner of my life at Wagamama. The food, staff, service were fantastic. The crowds walking past us in their Sevens costumes were hilarious. The weather was perfect for sitting outside with the nice people we were eating with. Sweeney, Bela and Harper running away and looking like they were about to jump in the harbour every twenty seconds was irritating and terrifying in equal amounts;
• Sweeney and Bela danced all through the outdoors area at One Red Dog on the waterfront. Definitely redeemed them after the Wagamama fiasco. The dj was clearly mortified that the preschoolers were the only people he was getting moving, though;
• We went to the Sevens for a few hours. Sweeney dressed as Spiderman and rolled with the bunches of Mickey Mouses, sexy french maids, buzzy bees, blood-spattered surgeons and even a few real policemen. He lost his cool when the Big Bad Wolf had to remove his bonnet so it could be checked for beer smuggling. Too weird, I guess. Oh, and there was some rugby ...;
• I was beyond chuffed to hear that our neighbours across the road, Kate and JB, are having a baby;
• We went to Dom & Emma's barbecue, and caught up with their fine selves, as well as more O'Neills. Sweeney played cricket with JJ and Dom, although he has his own view of the rules;
• I watched 30 Rock lots, and some Molly Ringwald movies. And grew kind of fond of Imagination Movers from the next room;
• I made my lunch every day to take to work until today, when I met up with my friend Lance and we bought lunch;
• Sweeney went on a road trip with his uncle Ben. Long story short, they ended up in Waikanae, met up with their cousin Vanessa for lunch, and everyone had a really good time.

In other news, I can't keep away from other news at the moment. I don't know why I do it, but it's compulsive right now. All those dead kids, all that animal cruelty, our terrible government slashing funding for education and health, privatising prisons, toughening an already dehumanised ACC and social welfare system, and now ... Radio New Zealand. Political broadcast coming up right about now ...

The government want to leave funding right where it is for the rest of time, and there's an idea that the All Night program could be cancelled - what the?? That program kept us going when Sweeney was teensy tiny and up at night, every night. And more importantly, the months before he was born, when he'd rumpus in my belly and I'd lie awake worrying about how to stay awake at work the next day. Phil O'Brien reading the long-range marine forecast was ambrosia for my ears.

When Sweeney's Grandad wondered what to buy for Sweeney's last Christmas, he tuned into a review of kids' books on the National Programme and was turned onto Wonky Donkey. Kim Hill's interview with Jarvis Cocker. All of the amazing programming that my clever-clogs friend Liisa is responsible for. Humphrey Hewitt.

So, booo hisss!!! National Party and all your cohorts ...

The Heat

What's Hot:

• We had spaghetti bolognese-type dinner tonight, quick to whip up, easy to insert veges into, and Sweeney actually ate all of his. It took him a while to get going, but once he was into it ...;
• It's going to be sunny on Saturday;
• The two P5 parking spaces the council has finally installed outside Sweeney's preschool;
• Sweeney's current fave book is Dr Seuss' I Wish That I Had Duck Feet. Lovely;
• My Jodhpur boots from Minnie Cooper were a bit worn down on the sole, and Sandy not only resoled them, but added on an extra layer of something that makes them tougher and, I think, more comfy. Thanks, Sandy!!;
• I have just another hoop or two to jump through, then I really will have a Proper Job lined up and ready to go. Oooh-err.

What's Not:

• It's really rather chilly here tonight;
• I've been knackered all week and have hardly read anything or done any chores beyond the bare minimum to keep us dressed, fed and kind of clean;
• the Chorus/Telecom vans that take up the P5 parking spaces outside Sweeney's preschool every morning;
• my Capos from Minnie Cooper may have to be retired after nine years of faithful service. Resoled and reheeled multiple times, but now the actual leather has sprung a teensy split and may not be salvageable;
• I'm so anxious about getting confirmation of the Proper Job, I can hardly stand it. Blerg.

More hotness and notness is available from Loobyloo. Always a splendid read.

Distant Sun

Good grief. The weather has been pants for forever. I've had a headache for three days, and last night some extra-special Stabby Pains started happening in various bits of my body. I've staved off actual flu all winter, but maybe my luck's run out. I crashed out early, dreamt George A. Romero dreams, then lay awake from 11.30pm to 3am, hearing Sweeney sneeze in his sleep. This morning, he's still sneezing and refusing to blow his nose. I've put off all the things I had to do today, because lying around feeling listless and low-grade grumpy feels so much more acceptable right now.

Day Six of toilet training. It's been a bumpy ride at times. The teachers at preschool are being fantastic about, well, showing both me and Sweeney a good approach. There've been some accidents, and there've been times when I've had to harness every shred of self-control to keep the top of my head in place. To be honest, I'm not convinced that I've done the right thing. Feels like all I've done is put him under a microscope and caused toileting to be something we talk about all the time. In any event, preschool and I have agreed to persevere for a couple of weeks before changing course.

In other news, the elderflower cordial will be done steeping today. Apparently it's sensationally refreshing in hot, summer weather. I can't wait - for the cordial, the sensational refreshment and the weather.

The Sweetest Thing

Okay, maybe this is mental, but so what. Yesterday was Father's Day, and I called my dad and thought about him a whole lot during the day, and we went to lunch with the O'Neills and spent time with Martin's dad. Of course there was no Dad-type action for Sweeney, apart from us hauling out some photos of him and talking about him for a bit.

Last night as we drove home from the M-Z's house, the moon was full and waxy and seemed very close. Today when I woke up, I felt propelled out of bed, looking for something sweet for breakfast. The feeling didn't go away, but I resisted eating an entire loaf of toast and marmalade. Later I found myself in a bakery in Karori, grabbing an insanely sweet raspberry bun. They're amazing - they have the pink icing, as expected, but inside is a lake of raspberry syrup, too. It's an outrage against pancreases everywhere.

As I drove back towards town, after several changes of mind, I stopped in at Martin's new address and sat under a tree weighed down by birds to eat the bun. Well, half the bun. I left half for Martin. Or, if I wasn't being mental, I mean, for the birds. Partly because we used to split lots of things like that, and partly because it really was hysterically sweet. He loved sugary baked goods a whole lot.

When I picked up Sweeney tonight from preschool, his teacher told me they'd been drawing their families today. Sweeney drew his dad. Here he is ...

Should I be concerned about this? That everyone else drew their mum and dad and pets and so on?? And my kid drew the member of his family who's actually dead? I like that he remembered Martin's beard, though.

Ever since he got home, Sweeney's been making bridges out of everything. Laying his fork down on his dinner plate and calling it a bridge, then firing his peas across it. He's just announced that he's made a bridge out of a piece of elastic on his pyjama pants. What an imagination he's got on him right now ...

Friday I'm in Love ...

with the oncoming weekend, that is. Oh man, it's been one of those weeks where you do stuff, and no matter how much you do of it, there's still more and more stuff that needs to be done, and none of it is very appealing. Like doing the dishes every day, keeping the floors clean. Actually, those are the jobs that do me in every time. I hate doing them more than anything, but seeing them undone winds me up more than anything. And vacuuming so badly needs doing, and dishes from this morning will still be on the bench in the morning

We've been eating some delicious steak that was on spesh this week, frying up a few bits each night and marinading them in olive oil, lemon, thyme and salt straight afterwards. Sounds weird, but it really works. Found it in Nigella Express, of course. That and some vege done a little differently each night, and we've been well fed for dinner this week.

In other news, I'm ploughing through The Time Traveler's Wife. Good grief. I've looked forward to reading this for three years, and now I'm reading it, I'm finding it a little meh. Same thing happened when I watched Burn After Reading the other night. Enormous anticipation, especially now that I've given myself over to adoring Brad Pitt in all his forms, but my mind wandered during the viewing.

Caught up with KimberleyJoeHarper and our friends Deb and Leo, over from Melbourne, for a bit on Wednesday. Good to see those boys running around in the sun in Civic Square, mostly too close to the sheer ten-foot drops that surround all patches of green. Good design, Wellington City Council ...

Oooh, I nearly forgot ... Sweeney's preschool held parent-teacher interviews (!) this week. Turns out Sweeney's quite adequate. He's got real attachments to a group of buddies, has good language skills and demonstrates leadership-type qualities. His teacher told me lovely stories about him helping some of the smaller kids with getting their shoes on, making sure that Norman always has a truck to play with, reading stories with Michael and sniffing out boxes from all over, to make rockets with Blessing. I feel comfy that Sweeney's in an environment where he's supported in his efforts to manage himself and make decisions and reason things out. Plus all those trikes and the sandpit, and the special room where the kids go to use real hammers and nails, under close supervision of course. The leadership thing interests me because, apart from Harper, most of the kids I see him with are older than him, and he seems comfy as more of a follower with them. We went to Sweet Mothers Kitchen for a milkshake afterwards, and a chap sitting at our table pulled an enormous screw out of his gumbo. Insert joke about increasing your iron levels here ...

They're the Life of the Party

Today Sweeney, Harper and I went to Sweeney's friend Olivia's birthday party. She's three now. They go to the same preschool, and have been great pals for months. There was a lot of running about on the grass and the kids went nuts over the toys in Olivia's bedroom. There was a game of Pass the Parcel where Sweeney won a recorder, but I'm hoping that it suffered a terrible accident somewhere. There were goodie bags at the end, with those things that you blow in and they unfurl and make a honk-type noise - what are they called??
Anyway, Harper tried to put the wrong end in his mouth, so Sweeney took charge and showed him how to do it. This is the two of them having a music break on our walk back to the car. Just love seeing them crack each other up.

In other news, I have no other news. Hoping for a big zzzz tonight is about as exciting as it gets at Moir St right now ...

Happy Birthday, Olivia!!!

Out of the Blue

You know, I love Sweeney and all, but crikey, he's a whopper challenge to me, the past few days.

Yesterday I picked him up from preschool, and he was so whiny in the car that I was inspired to pick up some wine at the supermarket. He chose that we'd go to the white supermarket, not the yellow one. Then he complained that he really wanted to go to the yellow one.

When I say "complain", I mean he bellowed, with tears, all the way from the car to the supermarket threshold. Then he hit the deck and a nice woman told me that her son did this for twenty or so minutes at a time.

Luckily, the wine section is very near the entrance, so I got him through the turnstile and could watch him yelling at me and crying as I selected. Then reselected, because my original selection made Sweeney cry harder. The manager asked me if everything was okay. I told him Sweeney really wanted to be at Pak'n'Save and he disappeared.

I figured I'd just ride it out and force a banana into him in the car, but he tried emptying things off the shelf at the checkout, so I had to make him sit in time out as a grillion slack-jawed, obviously childless winners in the game of Life made tsk noises in line around me. The checkout girl looked me deep in the eye and told me she hoped I'd have a good night and I really wanted to believe her, what with the blizzard of noise erupting from near the floor behind me.

Then I knocked the top off his banana as I peeled it, and that meant he couldn't eat it and could Go On About It for Ages.

Anyway, we got to the M-Zs for dinner, he had a big fuss made of him by everyone and ate delicious dinner, then he watched some Tom & Jerry with the kids until it looked like his eyes were on fire. He found Jean's Polly Pocket doll's house and played with it at the table, and gave me lots of cuddles during dinner, so that I didn't really mind that he should've been sitting on his own seat.

So I woke up thinking that I was a god for getting through an ordeal of that sort the night before. We parked up and watched cartoons to kick off the day, took ages over breakfast and Kimberley and Harper came for a visit.

Nice. Then it all went skewiff and we were embroiled in the same scenario as the night before, except that it went on all day and wasn't nearly so hysterical.

Long story short, he was in bed by 6.45pm and I felt rubbish about how the day had gone. I really look forward to the weekend, I plan visits to friends, interesting things for us to do, and the last few weekends have been bumpy like this.

Then I watched Out of the Blue on telly. Splendid. I was on holiday in Dunedin a few years after the massacre, and we went to Aramoana for a day of playing cricket on the beach, paddling and eating under a huge tree. Beautiful.

Anyway, the film made me stop in and give Sweeney a cuddle until he woke up slightly and said "stop it Mum, I'm sleeping".

Morning Fog

What is going on when you have a morning off and you wake up at 5.30am and no matter what you do, there's no more sleep? I lay there with my eyes closed until I heard Kimberley head out and the neighbours start moving around next door, then I got up and had a quiet, all-by-myself breakfast.

Nice to walk to preschool in a leisurely manner, rather than the usual semi-frantic loading of Sweeney and all his stuff into the car, arguing over what music we should be listening to, hoping against hope that no-one's blocking the street today etc etc. And that's just the little bit between breakfast, dressing and cleaning up, and actually getting on the road to preschool.

Got a little inspired by praire mouse's account of knocking up some chicken soup, so ... I knocked up some chicken soup for my dinner. With broccoli, carrots and noodles. Perfect food. Sweeney laps this stuff up, but he had dinner earlier with the neighbours.

Yes, he's been out for dinner a few nights this week without me. Who knew three years old was the new black? Neighbours are clamouring for a go at him right now. You know how it takes a village to raise a child? Well, I'm mobilising my village so that Sweeney doesn't have to be tethered to a power pole outside his preschool when I have to work late. He had a great time with Kate and JB last night, and tonight with the Ls next door.

Thanks, neighbours!!

Things'll Never Be the Same

Status report for the week so far. Yes, I know it's only Tuesday, but it feels like ... Thursday, maybe.

• The behaviour chart is working great. Well, when I say that, I mean that Sweeney's motivated by the idea of a sticker turning up at the end of a bit of tooth brushing or toy tidying. I put a wild card task on the chart - to leave preschool nicely each afternoon - and tonight, when it looked like he was going to melt down and exit the building kicking every bit of the walls he could reach, I reminded him of the sticker waiting for him at home. Calm prevailed. How does this sit with the idea that we don't bribe our kids to behave well? I'm hoping that eventually the memory of those happy days peeling stickers and putting them onto his chart will be all the incentive he needs to get him to wash his face and brush his teeth. My own face and teeth have never had so much regular attention, to be sure;
• Tomorrow is Pirate and Princess Day at preschool. Sweeney's pretty excited about it. His outfit is genius, if I do say so myself. Possibly not how real pirates have ever looked ... ;
• We've got a fresh houseguest this week - Kimberley's sleeping here for a couple of nights. Sweeney's perplexed - she came over after he'd gone to bed last night, and left before he woke up this morning, so I don't think he really believes that she was here;
• I went retail-nuts yesterday and bought Sweeney a duvet and pillows, to fill the beautiful duvet cover and pillowcase the W-Ds gave him for his birthday. For a month now, I've seen it every day and thought the pattern was of vintage cars, but no, it turns out it's jeeps. Jeeps!! Jeeps from every angle - top, bottom, cross-sections, the whole bit - and a few spark plugs and come cogs and gears and what-have-you. Sweeney loves his Thomas blanket, but he luurrves his Jeep duvet;
• We had Loafapolooza at the M-N's last night. Chicken loaf - yum - followed by banana and berry loaf - superyum. Sweeney came out with some spoons for our dessert, and when I asked him who the extra one was for, he said "that's for my dad" and all the air left the room for a second or two. Then he and Bela resumed running through the house making animal noises;
• We had spaghetti bolognese for dinner tonight. A lovely woman gave me a bag of kiwifruit yesterday, and Sweeney and I ate lots afterwards. Felt nice to sit at the "big table" and eat and chat together, and not have to do a single Encourage to get him to pile through his food. I tried to explain to Sweeney that too many kiwifruit might make his poohs hurt through runniness etc. He said to me "Mum, my poohs don't hurt. They just smell" and he popped another spoonful into his mouth.

'Nuff said

Off the Wall

Today is the Big One in this house. Grandad O'Neill gave Sweeney a breakfast birthday call, and even the neighbours joined in with this piece of cheer this morning. Nice one, Lists!!

Preschool took Sweeney's group on the bus to the airport this morning, which worked in really nicely with the set of airport Tonka figures he opened up first thing this morning. Thanks Catherine and Co.!! And he really liked the card, too.

I really pushed the boat out (for me) and made a chocolate cake and loot bags for his preschool friends. I got the idea for the loot bags from Hanna's blog, Craftykin. I found a copy of Hilda Boswell's Treasury of Nursery Rhymes at the Salvation Army shop, with enough rips and graffiti and general munting that I didn't mind pulling the pages out. They turned out just the right size for a couple of marshmallows, one of those mini Flake bars, a chunk of yoghurt apricot slice and some candied bananas. Yes, I know, sugar galore, but I really don't want to fill the world with more meaningless stickers and plastic trinkets that fall apart in the car on the way home. And dagnabbit, I think this is a good occasion for indulgence.

Sweeney was stoked, the teachers got the kids into party hats and turned the lights down when the cake came out. It was all looking great until Sweeney burnt his lip on the candle. Inconsolable.

Anyway, we got through it and took some leftovers up to Martin. He's still pretty sick, but chirpy at getting a visit from Sweeney and his cadre of airport Tonka figures. Three years ago, he was visiting me and Sweeney in hospital, and we were so happy about our new life as parents to this splendid, full-lipped wunderkind.

We had dinner at the Asian noodle place by the Basin - laksa for me, five or six grains of rice from his roti chanai for Sweeney. Full of cake and lollies and about a gallon of milk from the hospital, so the nice chap packed Sweeney's dinner for us to take home. I may eat it later.

Back at home, he opened some more presents, played cars, chatted on the phone about his cake and the candle inferno and the trip on the bus to the airport. Then he hit The Wall something horrific while I was telling Mum what gorgeous company he'd been - threw things, jumped on things, yelled at me. Regret letting him start his day at 5.30am this morning? Yesssssss.

In other news, Michael Jackson died today. I quite liked him up until the Glove and the escalating weirdness. Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough still makes me feel good when I hear it.

General Electric

You know, Shihad is really good music to fold washing to. And tidy up cupboards and do the ironing.

A big, mysterious box arrived from Dunedin today. Thanks, Catherine and Clan!! Sweeney was in such a tizz when we got home tonight, that I don't think he even noticed it sitting in the middle of the second stair. I think he's having another Grow, what with the huge amount that he's eating suddenly, and news from his teacher tonight that he's been rowdier and more unco-operative than usual this week, not listening so well as usual. Also that he's got strong opinions all of a sudden. Well, he yells "No!!" at me more than I'm comfy with, to be sure.

Six weeks or so ago, we had just the same conversation, and I despaired that he was a dead cert for borstal and the local chapter of Satan's Slaves, but he came back from the Grow and we resumed our normal config. It was a week or two of butting heads and never feeling like I was doing the right thing, because he was telling me that I wasn't. Constantly. But, like I say, one day he was just lovely all day again, and I realised his jeans legs only needed to be rolled up once.

As for the strong opinions, to be honest, I enjoy them. As much as I love the cuddles and stories at bedtime, the snuggling in front of telly and all, I revel in him giving me stick about my infractions of our rules, or what he thinks is right or wrong with his universe.

I'll leave the box in another prominent spot and see if he complains about it in the morning ...

Back on the Chain Gang

Yay!! My laptop has a new power supply, and I'm up and running again. Got to admit, without writing or surfing on my daily activity list, the dishes got done a whole lot more regularly this week. I don't think anyone noticed.

What happened while we were off the air:

• Sweeney woke up one morning to find a mouse (dead) next to his bed, next to a leaf (also dead). We combined the two in a Death and the Maiden-type tableau. Sweeney really doesn't get death as a concept, I realise;
• Sweeney took his toy Man to preschool as his treasure, and talked about it to his chums at mat time. Man doesn't run or fly, he jumps. I looked at him critically for the first time, to discover he's simply covered in guns and ammo. I thought he was a scuba diver, but no ... Sweeney doesn't get violence as a concept;
• We had Delicious Dougal Dinner at the neighbours' house. Sweeney, Frank and Arthur hung out together in the nicest possible way;
• We had Martin over for dinner. Great to see him and Sweeney hanging out together, even though Martin's obviously terribly ill and trying very hard. Sweeney doesn't get chronic illness as a concept, either;
• We went to the M-Zs for dinner, which included the W-Ds and a couple of other lovely faces we haven't seen in a while. The other kids wanted to watch cartoons, but Sweeney wanted something more active - yay! - so he ended up playing cars with whichever adult would be lured to his car-orama he'd set up on the couch;
• I walked to Kelburn and back via Aro St. Just as the southerly and accompanying rain hit Wellington. After three days of unforecast gorgeous weather, the Met Service scored a goal;
• Sweeney helped me to clear every non-bedroom item out of my bedroom, and we spent Sunday having a picnic on the bed. Books, food, puzzles and Man. Lovely, sunny room; and
• I won a contest on Agnes' blog. I've never won any of those things before - still more yay!! And check out her blog - it's magnifique.

I know we did other stuff, but it's disappeared from my memory or it was just dull or it's entirely unsuitable viewing. Nice to be back.

Pyjamas

Being sick is such a drag. One of my resolutions for the year is to keep healthy, and it only takes a day or three of feeling sub-optimal to remind myself of why it made the list. Sweeney's great, but outside of preschool, during the week, he only has me to play with, so I need my best game at all times. Thank goodness for Sudafed.

I'm taking part in a survey related to telly viewing and radio listening habits. I don't want to out myself as a viewer of utter garbage, nor do I want to lie to a survey, so I'm making an effort to clean up my viewing act. It's made me realise that I don't actually seriously watch much - more usually there'll be something on while I'm cooking or doing chores about the house, or reading blogs, or crafting, and I'm in and out of the room, or even the house.

Sweeney's been watching a programme called Yo Gabba Gabba in the morning. I know, I know, it makes me the world's worst parent, but the show itself's actually not so bad, and breakfast goes into his body, just like that. The alternative is for breakfast to take ninety minutes of sitting at the table with him, and reminding him, reminding him, reminding him to eat, so I'm all for letting telly help me out. This morning, Mark Mothersbaugh, one of my teenage heroes, was a guest.

And before anyone says that I should just let Sweeney not eat his breakfast in the morning, just don't go there, girlfriends ... we have a twenty-or-so minute walk each morning to preschool, and he needs a full tank of gas before we hit the road.

Speaking of preschool, today was Pyjama Day. The kids all came in their pyjamas, and the teachers were in their pyjamas. There was a slumber party area - bowls of popcorn, a dvd of the Bee Movie - as well as the usual things that go on at preschool. Sweeney was excited about wearing his pyjamas with his friends. For most parents, it was a dream come true - no arguments about what to wear today.

Here's Sweeney with his lovely friend, Olivia. In their pyjamas. Thanks, EIK!!

I See Red

Sweeney cut preschool yesterday afternoon, we grabbed Bela and trundled out to meet Joe and Harper at Pataka to see the I See Red exhibition. It's the second time I've been to it - we went last year in Christchurch - and I still haven't seen more than about twenty seconds of the exhibition itself. There really is no point taking two excitable preschoolers, no matter how delightful you think they are, if you want to see the beautiful art. There's a lot of interactive bizzo for the kids, but even that didn't absorb them as much as running around in the lovely spaces and shouting at each other. Harper of course was his usual sunny self and happy to toddle about being chirpy and under control.
On the drive out there, they sat in the back seat and chatted. On and on and on until I was grateful for the terrible weather distracting me from them. Gorgeous, though. I realised I'd never heard Sweeney have a conversation of any length with another kid before. I know he has great pals at preschool, but I don't see a whole lot of that in action. It's usually him and me and/or other adults, or him and some other kid who's a bit older or younger to talk to him on exactly his level.

On the drive back, they sat in the back seat and displayed innumerable signs of tiredness. It was looking like someone was going to have be expelled from the car - I vote that it's me!! - but a bag of sultanas was located and previous chirp levels were restored.

Brilliant. Back at Bela's house, we all agreed that this will happen more.

Summer??

Yesterday it rained like crazy, so much so that we got caught in it for a few minutes and a bath and pyjamas were in order when we got home. Today, not so much rain, but chilly - a southerly change. I had to go dig out Sweeney's jacket and a woolly hat this morning, and he wore socks for the first time in weeks. I'm wearing woollen tights.

I'm taking a break from sewing up a kimono jacket for the new baby at No.8. I don't know his name, but he's a new baby and they're brilliant for enabling stashbusting. Tossing up whether I should knock up a hat for his big brother, but I'm so keen to get stuff out of the house that I may not have the patience. Met Ethan at the EIK party yesterday, who's eight weeks old, and is in line for the next kimono jacket. They're terribly easy to make, and I found Sweeney's one was gorgeous and useful when he was wee.

The Big Strong Boy's first night in his bed went great. Here's how:

• he didn't fall out;
• there's plenty of room for both him and the cat;
• he only got up once, and that was to collect some toys and take them back to bed with him;
• he really enjoyed his first experience of breakfast in bed.

The Tale of Sweeney Nutkin

Sweeney's been going to the Hataitai Community Creche for a month now. He goes three days a week. As far as we can tell, and sometimes a 14-month-old is a bit opaque to his parents, he seems to enjoy it.

That said, he gives the impression of enjoying everything. Except having that bubble-thing stuck up his nose to get mucus out. Ooooh, he hates that.

I was in Farmers in the mall at Linwood in Christchurch a few months ago, with my mother and Sweeney, and he was starting to lose it a bit as we entered into our fifth hour of looking at tiny little clothes, so I parked him up in front of an Elmo toy. On the shelf in the Toy section. Bliss. For twenty minutes.

When he was really wee, Martin or I would go into his room in the morning and if he woke up, as soon as he opened his eyes, he'd crack a huge smile. It's a sad fact that it takes him longer to wake up in the morning now - takes between thirty to forty-five minutes for the smile to come out.

Anyhoo, back to the creche. Today, Sweeney and the rest of the crew went on a field trip to Capital E. They took in a performance of some kids' drama outfit performing tales from the Beatrix Potter canon.

Word from Sue, his truly glorious caregiver at creche, is that he was moved to boogying in the back - "we raged", she told me. I think the last time I used the term "raged" was in 5th form. Who knew that creche would give him access to someone who my teenage vocab? Could be that it's cooler than what I have to offer him now.


This particular creche has so far been wonderful ...

• There are cubbies for the kids' bags, and shelves for their lunchboxes and drink bottles. I haven't checked, but I suspect there are tiny little toilets out the back.
• The creche hires a minibus and takes the kids on field trips. Since Sweeney's been there, they've been to Te Papa to check out stringed instruments, and Capital E today to see live performance.
• Tuni called to let us know that Sweeney had put his teeth through his own dimple, and gave us the option to come get him if we didn't think their cuddles were up to the job of consoling him. We'd seen their cuddles on previous visits, and knew that he was in good hands. Or arms.
• These places are necessarily more prissy and conservative and politically correct than real life at home. What with the low, low levels of political correctness at our house, and the angst and instability that's arisen between Martin and myself in the last while, it's no bad thing for Sweeney to get three days a week in that sort of environment.
• The play area has a Wendy house. Martin dropped him off the other day and as he was leaving, saw Sweeney slip into the Wendy house with a gaggle of wee girls. Martin swears Sweeney had a lascivious smile on his dial, but I'm just not ready for that ...

Creche also makes you aware of your shortcomings ...

• A chorus greeted me when I arrived to pick him up today - like small woodland creatures saying "peanut butter" over and over. Seems the central suburbs are a hotbed of nut allergy and Sweeney's demolition of pb sarnies (his first ever - his dad and I actually discussed it this morning) today put a few of his compadres in danger of anaphylactic shock.
• I was very sweetly instructed to never sully their premises with glad wrap again. Seems the central suburbs are teeming with preschoolers stuffing wads of it down their throats.
• I'm a hopeless labeller. As in, I send my child to creche with no labels on his clothes, his lunchbox, his cup. I do love changing his nappy when he gets home and seeing "Sweeney" in vivid marker on his bottom. Of the nappy, I mean.

He's asleep now. What with him not talking well enough for us to understand anything other than the cat's name, I don't really know what he got from the Beatrix Potter thingy today. Makes me realise that as he gets older and communicates more, asserts himself more, it just gets better and better.