The cute factor

Motherhood is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get. Lately, I've been getting an equal mix of the cute and the revolting. Tonight, I'm feeling so flat that I need to cheer myself up - I may as well give you a laugh at my expense!

Cute factor: Last night at the dinner table, Jack said, "I was wondering if when I'm bigger, like a lot bigger, could I make dinner for you and Daddy and Phoebe and Maisie? And you could all sit at the table and I would cook and then you would eat it." Oh, be still my maternal heart. Anyone who offers to make dinner for me is automatically classified as an angel in my book, but if it's my four year old son who offers?? I tell you, I melted into a puddle.

Not-so-cute factor: In the last 24 hours, Jack has thrown two enormous temper tantrums, complete with kicking, screaming and insults. For example, Daddy is a "stupid bum-bum head" and I am a "silly dumb Mumma". I know that these obscenities will seem hilarious when he is 15, but at the moment I just want my quiet little boy back! It's just end-of-year tiredness, but Mummy's tired too. Sigh.

Cute factor: Phoebalicious has morphed into a sassy, sweet little spunkrat who isn't afraid to shake her booty. At the Wiggles concert on Saturday, she jived madly to every song, wiggling her little hips and flapping her hands. Last year, when she had just turned two, she sat wide-eyed on my lap (admittedly, there wasn't much lap to be sat on, given that Maisie was less than 4 weeks away!). Although she loved it, she would not budge off my knee for the entire concert. This year, our confident little girl danced to the beat of the Wiggles' drum, and she was utterly wonderful to watch.

Not-so-cute factor: As proud as we are of Phoebe's graduation to being an 'undie-wearer' with not a pull-up in sight, I am getting a little tired of hanging out in the toilet to observe each and every poo. I know I should be rejoicing in the fact that she hasn't had an accident in a week, but we have visited toilets in shopping centres, other peoples' houses, Rod Laver Arena...we even had to leave Eastlink the other day and drive through endless paddocks to find somewhere, anywhere with a toilet for Phoebe. (And a big shout-out to the lovely people of Patterson River Tennis Club, who kindly allowed my daughter to sample their facilities...we snuck in, Phoebe did the smallest wee known to womankind, and snuck out again...yep, the girl knows how to make her mother sweat) I am delighted that she is so excited about being a big girl and going to the toilet, I just don't need to watch every single production. Is that being a bad mother?

Cute factor: Maisie has discovered the delights of interacting with her big brother and sister. She knows it is hilarious to shake her head to say "no", and has the uncanny ability to blow raspberries in response to silly questions. She joins in with raucous laughter whenever they are sharing a joke, and leans in as if to say, "Oh yes, I'm a big kid too! Isn't life funny?" She still only has two teeth, and has long sticky-uppy tufty hair which curls at the ends around the nape of her neck. On a good day, she is fluffy and adorable with a white-blonde mohawk...on a bad day, her hair sits flat on her head with a centre part, and she looks like a professor. If she bares her teeth in a cheesy grin, the effect can be quite startling!

Extra-cute factor: Let's face it, babies only have two settings - cute, and extra-cute! We had an air-conditioner installed today, so there were four very lovely tradies in our house working on the installation. They were really nice guys, and terrific with the kids. Maisie was in her highchair having a late lunch (another extra-cute factor - earlier she fell asleep with a piece of sourdough in her mouth...we caught her on video, drooling, snoring and fast asleep face-down on her highchair tray...teehee!!!), watching the guys at work. Whenever they would glance at her, she would smile coyly, wave a hand at them, and call out, "Dadda!" (I tried to explain to Christian that this was only because 'Dadda' is her word du jour, but he looked a little skeptical...) There was one she liked in particular, and he was offered a chewed, soggy piece of sourdough, which he gracefully declined. She just grinned at him winsomely (professor hair and all!)

Well, I'm starting to feel a whole lot better. It might also have something to do with the fact that all three team members are fast asleep and dreaming...and there's a box of chocolates calling my name. I'll just make sure and find out which flavours they are first!