Wednesday, 29 July 2009

It's not easy being a thief

I make no secret of the fact that I have no ideas of my own. So why should summer be any different?

If other people are having fun doing something, I see no reason to kill myself reinventing the wheel. The problem is when it just doesn't work.

For example why, when Lucy at Attic24 can rearrange furniture and throw away junk while her children play in the house, do I find myself unable to even unload the washing machine without having to stop to referee a screaming fight about a plastic wind-up dinosaur and wipe a load of paint off the floor?

I bet Lucy doesn't find her carefully picked blooms being waved around the house like a big watery bomb waiting to go off. Mind you, she doesn't put them in an ugly great milk bottle.

(I have to qualify the phrase 'carefully picked'. Actually they were hacked off by the lawnmower.)

And another thing. If Ali can successfully make butter by getting her children to shake a jar, why do I end up shrugging and shoving the jars back in the fridge after Mr Coffee and I find ourselves abandoned in the kitchen shaking jars alone, like fools, while the children find something less tiring to do?

Let's try a craft book. Emma Hardy assures us we can make a salt dough tea set that looks like this:

Sadly this does not seem to be the case.

(Before you start weighing in to say 'oh, but didn't they have fun?' I feel obliged to point out that I ended up making all the cups. And the teapot. And, you know, EVERYTHING ELSE.)

Still, sometimes stealing works out for the best. For example, when the Eldest Latte said she wanted to do 'science', the arts graduate in me started to panic. And then I remembered Dottycookie, my new very best friend.

If only I could steal her knowledge of what it all means.


  1. Stoy.Of.My.Flippin'.Life.

    Especially the parts about "screaming" and "refereeing" and not being able to get a cotton-pickin' thing done. Ever.

    I try to live in the moment, cherish my precious little angels, etc. But from time to time I allow myself fantasies about being 65 and enjoying uninterrupted, well, everything. And QUIET. If I survive to be 65...

  2. P.S. I wrote that comment to the accompaniment of, "I WANT TO EMBROIDERY. NOW!!!!!!"

  3. Psssst: Google is your friend, along with a large dose of bluffing.

    I'm in the middle of holiday packing (read: trying to sew an entire wardrobe of summer dresses that we will not need since it's unlikely to stop raining), and being USELESS at blogging, but will try to find some more sciencey fun soon.

    Oh, and the refereeing thing? Happens here, a LOT. Only quite frequently I'm pitching a bigger fit than either of the two small people. I think I failed the page in the parenting manual that insists you 'model appropriate behaviours for dealing with frustration'.

  4. You've just answered my ignored tweet of "why can't I get any knitting done?" I don't know who those other bloggers are, but I think they all should be rounded up and forced to divide 4 cupcakes among 6 children.

  5. I seldom think to subscribe to comments for a blog post, but I'm glad I remembered on this one. It's comforting to see that I am Not the Only One.

    If anybody wants to start a group blog celebrating (or at least wailing about) life with, er, "spirited" children (and even more spirited mothers, ahem), I will participate without a moment's hesitation.

  6. 1. What's up with your knee?
    2. I like your tea set better anyway. More colorful.

  7. I can offer you a patent method for getting them to behave in supermarkets...

  8. Your tea set!

    It made me snort with laughter.

    And that is so rare at the moment as to be positively amazing.

    Thank you


  9. This is the first blogpost that has made me laugh in a very very long time. I bet even Jane Brocket's house looks a tip sometimes. Perhaps her feet look like my sad old trotters too. Sometimes. Or perhaps not.


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