Okay. The weekend was large-ish. Three extra kids, because the Double-Bangers weekended at Chez Flinthart. Their situation is complicated: mum and dad aren't really doing so well as a couple. Mum D-B works too damned hard, and her weekends are something of a nightmare, so the three kids were running short on a parent, what with Dad D-B being somewhere in NSW studying up on permaculture, or something. Anyway: Amazing Viking Neighbour Anna stepped in to make sure the D-B kids were okay on weekends... and Clan Flinthart provide the backup when Viking Neighbour Anna needs a break.
They're good kids, all three. Two boys, one girl: much like Clan Flinthart. However, when you get six kids under one roof on a rainy weekend, you have to expect things to run large.
Genghis and I started with the Saturday routine. He came to my sword class and watched, and then I took him to his double bass lesson. We picked up some stuff, had lunch, came home. And after that, it was a free-for-all. I'd planned to have a cook-out around the new(ish) fire pit, but the rain put the zap on that one big-time.
It didn't help that the DB middle child had a birthday on Monday. Remarkable Viking Neighbour Anna is fiercely protective of children of all varieties - so on Sunday, we had a proper birthday party. With cake, and presents, and vast chaos. Meanwhile, Natalie was packing: she's spending this week in Queensland, on the Medical Educator gig.
Which means, of course, that following the Weekend of Many Children, I am now doing Sole Parent Duty until Saturday. Or so.
Yesterday was Monday. That was the Day of the Wardrobes. It rained again, very heavily, and the temperatures plummeted. Somebody cancelled Spring, I think. I want my money back. Anyway, the guy put in a big built-in wardrobe in the Mau-Mau's room, and an even bigger one in the boy's room.
Oddly, it turns out that gigantic fucking mirrors for doors are actually cheaper than standard particle-board, or whatever they use. We spent the money for non-mirrored doors in the Mau-Mau's room... but the boys got mirrors. Big fuckin' mirrors. We're talking about 2.5m high, by nearly 2m wide.
Shit, that's a lot of mirror. I guess we wanted the wrestling matches in the boys' room to stop anyhow...
Today? Today was Cello Lesson day. Drive Jake into Launceston. Normally, we'd be doing Swedish, but apparently Natalie is trying to shift all musical lessons to Tuesday morning. Maybe we can do Swedish in the afternoon? I don't know. Pissed off, though. I'm enjoying learning Swedish, and I think a second language is easily as important as music.
Meanwhile, I've been catching up with bills, building a gate for one of the fenced vege garden beds, handling laundry, cooking, cleaning, shopping, writing. I'm apparently supposed to put together some kind of paper/presentation related to my MA for sometime in November. That would be somewhere between a martial class for the school, preparation for the Xmas parade, the Ringarooma show, the work on the online programme for creative writing, the editing on two stories, visitors on a couple of weekends, a concert (for the boys) late in October, a trip to Melbourne to catch up with Prof Boylan, the work on the novel, and every other fucking thing.
Tomorrow... tomorrow I throw the kids on the bus. But I have to be down in Scottsdale by 1200, because somehow Jake managed to flake a chunk off one of his juvenile pre-molars on Sunday. How? Eating a fucking Cheezel. How the fuck do you flake a piece of tooth enamel on a Cheezel? He and the other two have only recently been past the dentist for a very clean bill of health. They have a good diet, and we drill dental hygiene into them. So... how the FUCK does he manage to flake a piece probably 5mm by 5mm off the outside vertical surface of a premolar?
This is what we will be trying to discover, of course. Is he lacking calcium? If so - how? He gets cheese, milk, and dark, leafy vegetables. Maybe not as much as I'd like of any of the three - but probably more than the vast majority of kids with non-flaking teeth out there. So... what the fuck?
You get the picture, though. If I have to be there by 1200 for his 1210 appointment at the hospital (where they have a nice dental clinic) then... let me see... probably not done until 1230. Which means that if I turned around and went home immediately, I might get back by, say, 1245. Unfortunately, I'll have to turn around and go back down the hill at 1430 so I can collect a gang of kids from the school, get some food into 'em, and then run the ju-jitsu classes from 1600 to 1830 or thereabouts.
At that point, I'll drive home. I'll have my two boys in the car, and probably two, maybe three of Viking Neighbour Anna's lads. I think I'll pick up some pizza, because I'm damned if I feel like trying to cook a meal after teaching two and a half hours of ju-jitsu.
Thursday... what's going on Thursday? Not sure. Must be something. Friday is orchestra. I know that. Oh... I have to get to the mechanic, apologise for the fact that Natalie completely forgot her appointment last week, and pay the bill for the tyres on the Mighty Earth King. Gotta fit that in somewhere. Ooh - better finish bracing the steps I built for the Movie Shed. They're not ready for use until they're braced. And shit - when was the last time I checked my university email? I haven't finished reading Spenser yet, let alone Ariosto and Milton. Fuck!
I totally fucking hate this time of year.
