Double Dipping.

My children are not food motivated. The three year old is so unmoved by food she barely scrapes onto the all important percentile charts which seem to dictate health in this country. They like all sorts of food including vegetables. Just not regularly or in quantity. They both will get excited about cake or candy but then abandon it to the nearest surface, barely sucked or nibbled, just two minutes later. Getting them to sit and eat is a daily trial. I have grown accustomed to it. I have set rules, consequences and penalties. I have coaxed, pleaded and cried. I have presented food as a game, in a pattern, in disguise - with no real impact. They eat when they are hungry - which is not often. Despite all this - they are both thriving.

The nine year old has put a new spin on things. I like to call it the double dip. On school bus morning we run a tight ship. We have a (very) fixed routine. There is no time for wavering off the plan. It has been running reasonably smoothly for four years now. The last three mornings she has pitched her curve ball, after completing her breakfast - her choice of cereal, oatmeal or toast - she has stated "Mom, I'm still hungry." ???
This is a statement so foreign to me that I didn't register it the first time.

"I can't go to school yet - I'm still hungry."

"Ok, I'll grab you a bar and you can eat it on the way to the bus."

"No, I need more than that."

I find myself looking around at my kitchen in bewilderment. What is this "more" thing and how do I achieve it? We never have more - we usually have leftovers. I am completely stumped. I don't know how to do more. More of the same thing? More of something else? Not a grab and go item - then what?

After years of wishing and worrying she had an appetite, I feel inconvenienced. Why now? Why not at dinnertime when we have nothing more pressing than some play time or bath. Why all of a sudden is the same breakfast that has sustained her - inadequate. My mommy pride is hurt. This is the challenge of parenting. Wanting, wishing, comparing then changing, juggling and complaining! I want you to eat more - just not right at this minute. I want you to have a bigger appetite but if you could schedule it, give me a weeks notice and start on a Saturday - I'd really appreciate it.

So, I will add to my weekly shop and be prepared - just in time for the growth spurt to pass and the extra food to end up in the compost because that's just how this parenting thing works.

Muse.

What do I do when the kids don't give me any material?

We took an international trip. Involving franticly navigating a massive traffic jam that led to us running onto the plane about 3 seconds before they closed the door. We sat contained in a small space with very spillable food and drinks for several hours. We swam in an ocean full of hazards like sharks and jellyfish. We watched a dead puffer fish float ashore in all it's sharp, shiny glory, perfectly in between the three year old and her little friend's legs.
We took cab rides without seat belts with barely sober drivers. We swam for hours (and hours) every day. We ate foreign food and drank water that allegedly had been 'treated' but tasted less than fresh. We slept in several different beds on rock hard marble floors - perfect for a concussion.

Nothing. Not one comedic mishap. No completely inappropriate public comments. No effusive bodily functions. Not one.

I find this leaves me with blog block. What good are children when they don't give me blog fodder? What is the point of trekking them around the globe if I don't get a good dinner party story out of them? When did they become so mannered, calm and competent? What fun is a flight if your child doesn't barf all over some poor business man in the aisle seat?
Why spend a day at the beach if you don't get to make a toilet out of a hole and a tiny ziploc bag?
Why explore other cultures if your child doesn't innocently make some hugely personal or offensive comment just as the restaurant falls oddly quiet?

So that's it. I have nothing to amuse you with. No cute but humiliating story that you can relate to.
My children were polite, strong stomached, sensible and safe. They missed every possible opportunity to give me something, anything, to write about here. Even as I gave them every chance.

Maybe I should tell you about dangling 700ft above a canyon on a one inch cable with the Mexican Jack Sparrow chasing me with a camera. Maybe.

No Rest for the Wicked.

But for me - a week in the sun.
Don't miss me too much.

Trick Tock.

Time is not important to the nine year old. This is as it should be - she's a child. I don't want her to care about time (with a few notable exceptions.) I am happy for her to be carefree and deadline less. I have not pushed for her to learn to tell time. I don't focus on the clock. It has been to my advantage. Bedtime is when I say it is - not when the clock dictates it. The result is a complete lack of awareness of time. Even now that she can read a clock, if she's not looking at one - she has difficulty telling whether half an hour or half a day has gone by.

It's sweet, endearing. She will ask if this is lunch as I serve dinner - even if it's dark outside. I roll my eyes in a loving 'isn't she adorable?' way. There are many ways this really works out for a parent. Today, I was in a mad scramble to get everything I need for Easter baskets. As my kids are on spring break I had to bring them with me. Not ideal if you are trying to keep the Easter Bunny alive and well, or so you would think. I parked my car outside a shop that had a window full of Easter trinkets. I told the girls I would be right back and dashed inside to pick up to some previously coveted tchotchkes. I was not more than two minutes. I came back with a bag stuffed up my shirt - which was obvious and noisy.
I jumped back into the car trying to act casually and muttering about the shop not having what I wanted.

"OOOOH Mummy!!" says the nine year old.

Sigh - she has seen/heard the bag and knowing that she has wanted something from that shop has worked it out. Easter is ruined. I am a lame parent.

"You had you're hair done! It's lovely!"

What? She actually thinks that I have been to a hairdresser? I cannot believe that she could honestly confuse a two minute dash into a shop with a hair appointment. She's had many haircuts - she knows how long it takes. It just seems unfeasible to me that she can be so unaware. Also, does she really believe I would leave her and the three year old in the car while I go and get my hair cut? Then I realize that I win - she does not see the goodies. The Easter Bunny is alive and well and apparently I have pretty hair. Result.

"Do you like it?" I say as we drive off......