Where the hell have I been? Good question!

Whaddya want? A note from home or something? Okay, fair ‘nuff.

Brae is growing gangbusters, and is presently going through another growth spurt. This entails slightly weird sleeping and eating patterns, with a few visits from Mr Crankypants.

I am delighted to report that the tanties are starting to ease off. I believe this is due to two things. Firstly he’s more able to communicate what he wants because he is now talking a little bit more every day. Secondly, with his growth in maturity he is at that stage where I feel comfortable with politely escorting him to his room, kissing his furious head, and saying “come out when you’re in a better mood, darling”. The door is left open, and it is entirely up to him when he comes out. Sometimes it’s a minute or so, but usually it’s within 20 seconds, and then he gives me a big cuddle & sometimes a bit of a sob on the shoulder, but the worst of the tanty has been avoided.

Btw, when I say ‘talking’, I mean using words instead of his own special language (beeps, gabbles, gestures & head-butts) which is comprehensible only to Master Braeden.

The number strengths continues to grow, and not surprisingly his favourite show is Numberjacks although Little Einsteins continues to be in the revolving top three. Brae’s favourite toy by far is his electronic keyboard, and he turns to it whenever he hears a piece of music that interests him, or when L.E. plays the ‘music of the day’. First he runs up to the TV screen & chases the notes across the score as they play, then he turns to his keyboard and finds the key notes. He doesn’t try to play the melody (that’s far too obvious, LOL), but rather he will try to find the note that the piece started with, ie Middle G, then he finds the next most significant note in that piece, ie Middle C. When the episode airs next, he knows what note it kicks off with and will offer that as a tuning key before the melody is played.

Are kids fascinating, or what :-)

Wayne’s ripping along with the renovations, which appeals greatly to Daddy’s Little Helper. It’s very cute to watch, even when Brae ‘helped’ Daddy by applying a large wet paintbrush to a nicely painted wall.. ooops! Poor wee man didn’t understand his father’s roar of horror, and needed a lot of reassurance that all was forgiven. Of course Braeden wasn’t daunted for more than a moment, and was soon back to ‘helping’ his father all over again.

So one bedroom is restored, renovated and finished, and that of course became the office. Well ahead of Uni starting back later this month! Well done, Mr & Master Builders.

Wayne is presently working on #2 bedroom, which will become Braeden’s room. This means our bed is in the dining room – and gave us the opportunity to play a fun trick on our son yesterday morning. We’d moved the bed after Brae’s bedtime, so when he woke up yesterday morning, he had no idea that his usual routine of ‘run up the hallway, slam open the parents’ door, and laughingly clamber over your parents to announce the day’ was going to prove slightly more difficult.

We listened as the door went bang, grinning to each other in the pre-dawn shadows. Silence. Door closed, then banged open again. (He left then immediately returned..) Hm. Still see an empty room. Better make sure the TV hasn’t been abducted, too! He raced through into the lounge, and we heard his sigh of relief. (Nice to know our place). Then he must have spotted the edge of the bed, and he carefully, catfully, stalked around the bed only to see his fool parents grinning back at him, saying “Hello darling, did we fool you?” He didn’t seem upset, just a bit puzzled. Might have been a different story if the TV hadn’t stayed put, though!

He approves of the new bed position, because it’s great for taking one’s toast & peanut butter when one wants a comfy breakfast seat. It’s great for hiding in and pretending that we don’t need to go to our room to nap, and when we discovered Mum’s cache of little person jigsaw puzzles, we had the most marvelous time scattering them all over the bed, in a million bits. Dad got the job of putting them all back together, because Dad had forgotten to keep them out of reach of the baby person.

Quick note here: Brae has completely outgrown wooden puzzles and is on to 40+ piece cardboard ones. Some of those live in books (the Tonka construction book is awesome, btw. Four great puzzles in that one). Imagine the mess poor Dad had to work through!

I got my results back, btw. Accounting ended up with a B+ because my A-plusses were dragged back a lot by my exam. (scowls furiously at RSI) Apparently (according to a uni-wise friend) I should have walked out the moment I realized my hand had fused, and gone straight to my doctors & got a certificate. Then they would have aggregated my mark, and I’d have kept my A+ average. Hindsight is SUCH a treat (scowls furiously at friend.. LOL).I am mildly comforted by knowing that of the 68 marks worth of work I got to do, I scored 63.5. Gods, but I am such an intellectual snob!

Think that’s unbearably up-myself? How about my other result, Information Systems & Technology! Kept my A+ average, and came first equal in my class, earning a letter of congratulations from the Dean. Whoohoo! Now you know how I got RSI.. from patting myself on the back, LOL!

I should point out that I never judge other people on their marks, only myself. Of course that’s no consolation when you’ve sobbed on a mate’s shoulder about the unfairness of life, and they dryly comment that a B+ was their best ever mark.. ow sorry.. um how do I explain without being considered arrogant, rude, vain AND patronizing? Can’t, so shutting the hell up, now ;-)

Here’s an “Awww” moment to end the catch-up on.

By some marvelous fluke, I won the village raffle just before Christmas. (That’s not the moment, sit down & keep reading..). As hubby & child don’t like Christmas cake, I asked if I could swap with the 2nd prize winner, which suited everyone just fine. We got a bin of goodies, which also included a tennis racquet that is actually a fly-zapper. Wayne had the most marvelous fun the other day, playing the Great White (fly) Hunter, while Brae & I snuggled on the couch. Braeden’s favourite show was on, so he didn’t appear much interested in his father’s antics for once, until Wayne thwacked a fly that landed on the couch next to my foot. Another one landed on my thigh, and before Wayne could do more than shift his position, Braeden hurled himself across my lap, and stared his father down. Didn’t say a word, just blocked with his body and let his expression say volumes. (Don’t even think about hitting my mother with that thing, mate!)

Humbling, eh. And this kid is in a house where he never has to worry about one parent hitting the other (although I did threaten to do something piercingly painful to Wayne the other day when he insisted on annoying me during a PMT-wracked day). If ever a parent needed a reason to get out of a violent relationship, the natural protectiveness of a 2 ¼ year old boy should give them an insight to how much kids really see.

Even if their favourite TV programme is on.