Baby giggles

I seriously hope you all appreciate this video, because while it was loading, I ducked out of the room (barely) to check on it uploading for all of 10 seconds ... and came back to find that the child had not only done poos, but he'd painted himself and half the lounge (well, maybe not half the lounge as such, but buzzy bee certainly didn't fare well) with it. My bad for leaving him unattended during bare-bum time, but still. The price I pay for sharing stuff. Bleurg.

Comments that go bye bye

I don't have many bloggy rules (bugger all actually. As in none. Well, one that I just made up because I've had to do this a couple of times), but if you post a comment that I can't read (as in, in a foreign language) I will delete it because it could say absolutely anything at all - ergo, you could be trying to sell me a vacuum cleaner, telling me I'm fabulous, providing an excellent piece of advice on the removal of ash from the kidlet's gob, threatening to report me to CYFS for child abuse, or simply trying to make sure I realise that robots will take over the world at 23:59. Cheers and all, but rules are rules.

Infant Trust

This morning I left the husband in charge of watching the child while I had my breakfast. Admittedly, I was also in the room and paying no attention whatsoever, but that's beside the point. The child is wicked, and kinda quick, and definitely a bit cleverer I think than we given him credit for.

People in glass houses and all that though, he rolled off the bed when I was in charge the other day (the kid, not the husband. The husband is usually pushed as opposed to rolling of his own accord), so I'm not really in a position to mock the husband. Much. Well, over that. I'm very much mocking the husband over the fact that he spent all afternoon putting up a grapevine trellis thing (there's a name for it which escapes me), bolting things to a concrete wall, running wires etc etc and then went to dig the grapevines in and discovered a sewer pipe running underneith. Ergo, no grapevine can be planted there. Tee hee. Although it wasn't very tee hee at the time. It was more a quick-cover-the-child's-ears-lest-he-learn-words moment. In fact, it's still not really very tee hee, so I'm mocking quietly from out of throwing things distance.

Also, I think I was gloating the other day about getting out of that awful survey. As it turns out, no such luck dammit.

So, the kidlet managed to work the fire poker out from behind the fire guard and roll around the floor chewing on it.

Later, with the much more acceptable chewing alternative of broad beans.

Got it!

I've been trying to get a photo of le toof for days. Finally managed it! It's all about angle, making the kid give me a huuuuge smile, and of course, keeping the camera trained on him for extended lengths of time just. in. case.

And now back to wondering what I'm going to do about having eaten most of the raspberry slice I made yesterday. Woops. Am a wee tad obsessed with raspberry slice at the moment.

Poor little ginger

To make things (the gingerness) worse, the poor little dude appears to have curls springing up on the top of his head. Terrible Muriel. I'm hopeful that it's possibly just a wee hair-drying issue from the night before last that will rectify itself with tonight's hair wash.

Nothing like a cot bar up your butt to make for a comfy nap

Fast asleep wee toadlet.



And the mischief continues. Apparently jumping in his jolly jumper was much less interesting than using it to get to the basket of crap by the front door, dragging said basket of crap across to the middle of the doorway and pulling all Dad's hats out.


And we've discovered the bookshelf. Fortunately his books of choice for chewing seem to be Al's dreadful Sci-Fi jobbies. It probably helps that I shifted them all to the bottom shelf of course ...

The little ginger has a tooth!

Sneaky little tooth.

I swear he was showing no signs whatsoever of teething - well, that I paid any attention to, poor little ginger - and the next he's screaming the house down. Of course, even then it took roughly 4 hours for me to wonder, stick my finger in his gob and find a tooth. Woops. Ah well. Now that I'm paying attention, he's pretty well text book - off his food, sleeps are up the spout, grizzly, needy, chomping on whatever he can (except teething stuff - apparently he is of the 'screw the teething toys, I'll just chew the corner of the couch thanks' mind) blah blah. And, er, sporting the tooth of course.

I continue to be in a very ill humour about this ridiculous survey. Very ill indeed. Did I mention it's compulsory? Apparently the only exceptional circumstances under which they'll consider letting you out of it is "if you're dead". Excellent. I did refrain from asking the surveyor, when she offered up that circumstance, what about if she was dead? (We've just dug 5 new vege patch extensions, it might help the rhubard take off, you know?) Even though the kid had been screaming for hours when she turned up for our initial interview and I was feeling spectacularly frazzled and grumpy, I did think that might have been a wee tad agressive. Just a wee tad. Even for a ginger.

So, we have a 7 month old teething (vile), a husband changing shift patterns and jobs (he's going from line maintenance (inspection and defect rectification ... troubleshooting when aircraft arrive into the airport) to heavy maintenance in the hangar) for three months (not as vile as the tooth, but vile nonetheless), and now, this evil survey where we have to detail out everything down to how many sausages we buy at the butcher (exceptionally vile. The vile has given birth to baby viles and the whole damn family of viles and their vague friends from way back live at my house). And of course there's the detailing out of an entire years worth of spending, which apparently includes all payments such as rates, water, mortgage details, you imagine it, we have to detail it. Which also means I have to find the paperwork. !!!

On the bright side though, we've just discovered a wicked toy store quite close which has awesome wooden toys, and it just so happens that Cuinn needs some new toys. What a coincidence!

Short'n'sweet, but a blog post nonetheless.

Oooh ... this is going to be good (a bloggy restart)

Cheerfully, Statistics NZ has randomly selected our household to take part in a Household Economic Survery.

For. Pete's. Sake.

It's going to take weeks. And diaries of expenditure. And providing receipts. And blimming recalling all the major purchases we've made over the last year. And their idea of major, by the way, is $200.00, which is not exactly a spectacularly high threshold for trying to remember each time you've spent it on a purchase over a year. Can you imagine? GAH! The last YEAR! Honestly! Never mind that I'm part of this household, which means that this is not going to be funny. Not even a little bit.

(Don't think I can't hear you all laughing. I'll hunt you down, I swear. Don't think I won't)

A much better start to this whole business too would have been not standing on my doorstep arguing for about 10 minutes about whether I did or did not have a letter delivered to my letterbox over the weekend, and getting grumpy that I had potentially tossed the unmarked window envelope addressed simply to "The Residents" which would have looked exactly the same as countless other unmarked window envelopes that are delivered with our daily inches high stack of junk mail from the likes of real estate agents, chain letter writers, advertisers, you name it, before actually getting onto telling me why you were standing on my doorstep and what the blazes it was all about. Potentially we might have been more receptive (unlikely, but I did say 'potentially') had we not just walked in the door, the husband wasn't trying to get dinner on, and the both of us weren't juggling a 7 month old who wanted his dinner right now thank you very much.

I really would have preferred they'd randomly selected some other household that has a little less to do, thanks very much. Never mind that their idea of keeping information secure and confidential is bollocks, because hello? The husband is involved in the survey.

What a great big pain in the butt.

I'm not amused.

And I can't be arsed. Most especially, I can't be arsed.

Oh. And yay! Welcome back me! I miiised yooou!

Kisses from Cuinn too! Big goobery open mouthed ones with lots of tongue, all over your cheek/nose/chin/forehead. He's so awesome.