Well the big news of the day is that Mrs Mandias is pregnant. Yes, yours truly, has managed to do something the All Whites couldn’t, and has casually slipped one past the goal keeper. Due date is the 17th January2011.

We had the 12 week scan today and it was an interesting occasion. My first concern had been that there would be two of the little ones as statistics show that 1 in 33 babies born is born with a buddy. Thankfully this wasn’t the case with us. My next concern, as I highlight in this post, was the fact it could be Chinese as 1 in 3 babies now born is Chinese.

The lady seemed taken back when I asked her if she could determine the ethnicity but said this is something that her high powered x-ray couldn’t pick up. However, using my excellent eye sight I think we have beaten the odds and we will most probably have a little New Zealand European child.

The sex of the baby is also rather important and this was another question that I asked during the 20 minute scan earlier today. The lady once again replied that at this early stage it is not possible to determine such matters. My reply that if it was my boy, you would easily be able to tell.. wink ..wink. By this time the nurse was already visible sick of my attempt at humour so from that point on I restrained myself. I suspect she gets that joke with every scan. However, I have taken a detailed look at the scans and I think the nurse is correct, it is hard to tell. The first picture above looks like a boy but the one below it looks like she is holding a broom, which would indicate a woman cleaning. Suppose we will just have to wait.

Well it is that time of year again. Yesterday was Mrs Mandias 32nd birthday and I did my part and produced a rather impressive cake. Following on from last years ‘piano‘ cake many readers thought a better cake could not be conceived let alone built. The doubters were wrong on both counts.

Planning for this years master piece began early last week when I suddenly realised it was Mrs Mandias birthday.  After a extensive brainstorm and internet search I was left with a couple of options.

Firstly, any woman has a weakness with Tom Selick and this was a real option.

Keeping with the older man theme next up was the man with the perfect six pack – Chuck Norris.

Sadly though when I really thought about it I felt these cakes didn’t fit the bill. Mrs Mandiasget to look at a studly man whenever she wants so a cake would be a poor imitation. It was then that I then had the brainwave of a treadmill. Mrs Mandias is a fan of going to the gym and some unearthly hour so it therefore seemed the perfect cake. As you can see the results are simply stunning. After a detailed internet search under the term ‘treadmill birthday cake’ I soon realised that not one of the 6 billion people on earth had attempted such a cake. I was sailing into uncharted cake decorating waters. On Wednesday evening I felt like Sir Ed Hilary entering a zone where no other human had gone and ultimately I was just as successful as our national hero.

Finding a suitable confectionery for the ‘belt’ was difficult but in the end my idea of placing licorice in the microwave and then rolling it using a rolling pin was a stroke of genius. Although if you are planning to eat licorice I wouldn’t suggest this as an option.

Unfortunately a number of people in my family don’t have quite the creativity level as I do. My eldest son thought it was a chair and towards the end of her birthday, once a few items had been eaten, Mrs Mandias let slip as to her real thoughts. Due to the family nature of this blog the topic of birth is not one that I wish to discuss so I will leave it alone and just let your imaginations run wild.

What on earth is wrong with the world. I have just logged onto The Herald web page and an article entitle ‘Kids, don’t poison mum this Mother’s Day’caught my attention. It caught my attention because I have spent hours this year preparing for Mother’s Day this Sunday. Sadly those plans now lay in tatters. The article was warning inexperienced chefs to follow basic hygiene etiquette this Mother’s Day if they are planning on making your special person breakfast in bed. The results if they don’t could be catastrophic.

” The Food Safety Council is encouraging inexperienced cooks to ensure they are hygienic and clean if and when they try their hand in the kitchen on Sunday. “Those wanting the perfect day for Mum may be creating kitchen treats without much experience so it’s important for them to carry out the food safety basics,” council executive Juliana Madden said.”

Many people may think this kind of advice is over the top but as a responsible parent I will be taking this advice to heart and my plan of breakfast in bed has now gone by the wayside. I will now be planning something else.

Incidentally, the bunch of roses that I have painstakingly grown over the last 4 months will also have to go as the Gardening Safety Council has also come out with a warning that inappropriate flower arrangements are incredibly dangerous. This comes after one man was seriously injured last Valentines day when a stray rose thorn got caught in his ear lobe.

I had then planned to then take our wonderful mum to the beach on Sunday afternoon but with the Tsunami Alert Foundation urging caution around New Zealand beaches I think that it is probably better to stay at home. Next on our planned Mother’s Day was a voucher for a relaxing facial at an upmarket spa complex. This will also have to be put on hold as The Cancer Foundation has recently come forward and said that regular application of make-up causes cancer and hormonal conditions.

As you can see this leaves very few options for the ‘average man’. On the one hand we are told to act romantically and put our wifes first. Yet on the other side we have warnings that our very acts of romance and appreciation are causing the ones we love hardache. Therefore, I think I will just let Mother’s Day run its course this Sunday and hopefully the Women’s Foundation against Apathitic Men, who are probably editing their press release now, will stay off my back.

I now know what it must be like being the Labour Party. For 9 years they held the power in New Zealand, now they have nothing. Instead of running the country they have to sit back and watch the powerful National Party do what they like with our society. Now my situation may not be as drastic and dire as the Labour Party but for 7 years I have had the run of the TV in our house. Sadly, like the Labour party losing power, I have had to give this power away and now just sit back and watch what ever the ladies in my house want.

The reason for this is simple. We now have a female boarding living with us in our house. While this might not sound like a huge move, it means that the balance of TV watching has been taken away from me. Within the Ozy Mandias house we run a democratic system which also covers what is watched on TV. Prior to the boarder arriving, the voting would be in my favour due to the fact I am a man’s vote, like an away goal in soccer, is worth slightly more than a woman’s. This would mean that once the kids were in bed I was in charge of what we were watching, usually sport.

However, the last two weeks have been a nightmare. Despite an aggressive political campaign I have been left short of votes every evening.  The result has been catastrophic. Last week I think every episode of Shortland Street, The Apprentice, Master-chef and Hannah Montana was pumped needlessly into our living room. I have protested as much as possible but ultimatley in a democratic society I have nothing to stand on.

I suppose that I shouldn’t think the world revolves around me and I should think of others. I did this the other day and while nobody was home I whispered to the TV and was shocked at the reply. I can without doubt say that our Sharp 29 inch box is just as frustrated as me. This guy used to have Billy Slater, Ronaldo, Wayne Rooney and Dan Carter on it’s screen every night. Sport flashing back and forth as he beamed everything live and up to date. He had the best view of live sport, but now all that has gone. Instead now he has corny chefs arguing over pathetic dishes and poorly made New Zealand reruns limping across his screen every evening.

Sadly, I am at a loss as to my next move. Under the democratic system I only have a few options. Getting a male boarder could be an option, but not really that realistic. I could do a Fiji and evoke a military coup, taking over the TV via force, however, the only gun I own is a toy one. I have thought of developing a coalition and bringing my two boys on board, however, like New Zealand First they have less sway than the Labour Party. Finally I could rearrange the Ozy Mandias Constitution and formally announce that democracy is out the door and that our household is now a monarchy with me as the King.

Mrs Mandias left early this morning to update her First Aid Certificate. As a pharmacist it is an important credential to have in her line of work. I wasn’t listening when she mentioned the content of the refresher course, although I do recall hearing something about CPR. Resuscitation is all well and good but after this morning with our youngest boy lets hope they had a small section on treating bite wounds.

Yes, you read correct, Mini Mandias Version 2.0, is a biter. Not just a small nibbler either. He is a ‘grab them with two hands, molar cruncher’. This morning while trying to rearrange our garage into a something resembling order I heard a scream from the lounge. (Yes, the boys had been left unattended but when I left them they were fine.) I raced into the lounge to find Version 2.0 riding Version 1.0 like a horse while intermittently biting him on his back. With perfect parenting skills I jumped in to stop that kind of behaviour straight away. No son of mine is going to be a horse rider!!

After a lecture to both of them about engaging in such a pathetic sport I then had to deal with the issue of biting.

I will come clean and say this is not the first time this has occurred with our youngest boy. A couple of weeks ago, after picking up my boy from day-care I was taken aside by the manager. She explained to me that our boy had been biting other kids and that we should have a talk with him at home about inappropriate biting. What made things worse was that later that evening we had the annual Day Care BBQ where all the families get together for a meal. It is the one time of the year when parents get to meet each other and gossip. This year it was the Mandias household at the root of the gossip tree. I noticed the sly glances and shady whispers by some of the families as the meal progressed. Thankfully Mrs Mandias did a fantastic job smoothing over the obvious tension. She should be a UN peace keeper.

Biting is apparently a natural part of growing up and statistics show that 74% of young children bite other children in the course of their development. I just made this statistic up, but already it makes me feel much better as a parent. Despite my statistic, it doesn’t help with how to deal with a problem when it is your child.

Over Easter I asked the best mother I know and she said that to deal with biting children she bit them back. “Bite them once, and bite them hard.”

The irony that she is now a social worker has not been lost on me and perhaps that is a line I will pursue in the future.

Today however I didn’t really know what to do. Thankfully, while I dallied like the inexperienced parent I am, Version 1.0 came to the rescue as I fumbled through my options.

“He should go to his bedroom.” The older one yelled.

I agreed and the younger boy was marched straight to his room and given a stern talking to. He was granted a reprieve from his isolation a few minutes later and within minutes the boys were playing together like they were long lost buddies. That is the blessing of boys, they play hard and they forget easily. Thankfully the issue will be a distant memory in their minds as much more dirty water will have flowed under their bridges before Mrs Mandias gets home. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

In memory of biters everywhere here is the world’s greatest biter.

Parenting is difficult at the best of times. However, in the school holidays it takes on a whole new level of stress. It seems to me that every holiday my children start to exhibit two disorders – the onset of ADHD during the day and then insomnia at night time. Individually these could be dealt with but when the two are combined it can be a nightmare.

Yesterday we visited an impressive World War One flight museum in Blenheim. Each aircraft had been impressively reconstructed into an  impressive scene. There were crashed planes in trees, snow scenes and even a recreation of the crashed Red Baron. The results were outstanding. To keep patrons off these impressive exhibits there was an alarm system which emitted a loud, ear piecing buzz. Within 17 seconds of paying our entry fee our youngest boy had set the alarm off and already come face to face with the Red Baron, by trying to remove his helmet. Needless to say thesecurity guard kept a close eye on us for the remainder of out 2 hour visit.

With this kind of pressure it is not surprising that sometimes parents do some strange and silly things with their children. Sometime parents just don’t get it right with their children and fortunatley there is often a camera to etch that moment in history. The photos below are not intended to offend, so just enjoy them for what they are – parents dealing with children under the stress of holidays.

next time I will use super glue!!!

Dont know why you are crying son. Be a real man and snuggle into the lion.

just waiting for my other son to come down from the 'Tower of Terror'

we dont want to promote the throwing of food.

I told him twice to be quiet so now he must face the consequence

better than leaving them at home alone

I gave him a choice; Walk or take the trolley. He choose the trolley.

a simple game of Hide 'n' Seek gone terribly wrong.

40th birthdays are interesting affairs. They are different to normal social functions like 21^st and weddings where most participants want to be there. Instead 40th’s are a massive reminder that the years are starting to beat you, your body is waning and your mind is more forgetful. Therefore, the 40^th birthday is one of life’s difficult ages to celebrate. You don’t feel old but the reality is that as you look in the mirror there is sure signs of wear and tear.

I was fortunate enough to go to a 40^th birthday last night. I say fortunate because, apart from the waitresses, I was the youngest person in the room. A sprightly youth set amongst an aging crowd. It was also my first official 40^th where I was an invited friend. This is important because it now means my friends have bolted past the 21^st stage, negotiated the wedding stage and the 40^th birthday is the next milestone we all celebrate together. Thankfully my 40th is a number of years off, 9 years in fact.

Overall the party was a success. Held at the couple’s home there was a nice mixture of patrons and a platter of food delivered every few minutes. However, there are two aspects of the evening I would like your opinion on.

Firstly, do you have a shower outside? The reason I ask this is that they had a shower outside, beside their hot-tub. Now this was no simple Saturday afternoon tap shower.  This was an exclusive Italian design, complete with sliding mixer, a seat and the nozzle on the end of a long chain which means you can move the spray around your body parts without even moving. Pure luxury.

Now at the beach I see the relevance of a shower to rinse off the sand before going inside. But these people live 10km from the closest beach. Why the need for outdoor shower then? Curious I asked a number of party goers but none could provide me with a satisfactory answer. Then last night as I lay in bed it struck me. The only real answer is that our newly turned 40 year old couple are closet naturists. Some people like clothing around their body, whereas these people prefer to go 100% natural. They like nothing better than to do the ‘Adam and Eve’ whenever they get home, in the weekend or during the holidays. This would confirm a suspicion I have held for a long time but have not been able to verify. The man in question always likes to communicate via text and is always warning me to call before you drop around. Added to that I have noticed he has an exceptional all-over tan and a rather high, all enclosed front fence. Individually these things wouldn’t usually add up to being ‘one with nature’ but together they form a pretty conclusive case.

The second issue I would like to raise is that of Party Games. On the way to the party I was asked by my wife “Will there be any game there tonight.”

As the party was for a work colleague I knew he wasn’t into touchy group games. Well so I thought. It turns out, and this is a common theme with naturalists, that he loves nothing better than grouping complete strangers together and having them perform strange tasks. Fortunately, it was just a general knowledge quiz which meant I was a sought after commodity due to my vast range of general knowledge. Suddenly, those who had been commenting negatively about my shirt where closest to my side, begging for me to be in their team.  For some reason when I do general knowledge quizzes I win. I am not bragging, just stating the facts. Last night was the same.

Sadly though this was an ill thought through quiz and I am still miffed about one of the answers in my speciality areas, sport. One of the questions was

Name the athletic event, apart from the decathlon, that men do but women don’t?

Being an expert in Olympic history this was and easy one and  I put forward the answer of 110m Hurdles. I was gobsmacked that the official answer was the 50km walk, which I would also acknowledge as correct. I said nothing about this obvious wrong answer but I noticed a few people like me shaking their heads in bewilderment. If you are going to do a quiz, get the questions and answer right.

So as I have said the party was a success but personally I went home under a cloud. Once in bed I couldn’t sleep as my mind checked off all the reasons why a family would have an Italian shower in their back lawn and if women competed in the 110m hurdles. Happily at 3am when I had worked out my friend was a naturist I got up and searched the Olympic website and found that women only compete in the 100m hurdles. From then I a slept soundly.

oh dear!! This was similiar to the kiss at the wedding in the weekend.

Another wedding in the weekend and the pressure builds for Ozy Mandias to write another blog on the event. At yesterdays traditional ‘post wedding BBQ’ I was fielding calls left, right and center about my impending article. Talk about pressure. However, I rest in the knowledge that when you have two people like we had in the weekend getting married material is never hard to find.

Right from walking into the beautiful St Mary’s church this wedding had a special feeling. Officiating proceedings we had a tag team of ministerial powers, something which seems to be common nowadays. First into the ring was Leo the Lion dressed in the shiniest suit I have every seen. He opened proceedings well and then tagged in his partner. Immediately I could tell this was a woman not to be messed with. You don’t wear rainbow colours like that and lack self confidence, nor a sharp tongue. She concluded the service nicely, taking a record 15minutes to complete the signing of the registry. I think she included her skype username, facebook address and twitter account details!!! However, she did blot her copy book slightly by forcing Jason the groomsman to clean up the pool of sweat that he left on the alter following the service.

Most of the crowd actually missed Jason sweating during the service as he pretended he was crying, but he didn’t fool me. Talking to Jason afterwards he had this exclusive comment to the Ozy Mandias Warning Blog;

“The vows were so moving I actually felt a tingle down my spine, I then realised it was sweat. I don’t know about the other men in the wedding party but it was a strange experience. I could feel the bead of sweat being conceived at the top of my neck, slide down my back, negotiate my crack, progress down my left leg, pick up a few friends behind my knee and almost be a torrent of salty water as it pooled on the floor.”

One more comment needs to be made on the service and that was the first kiss between the happy couple. The first kiss is the pinnacle of any wedding ceremony. The formalities are completed, the legal requirements ticked off and everyone is ready to relax and celebrate. The kiss symbolizes the first connection between the married couple.  I will attempt to recreate the situation and paint the best possible picture for those that weren’t there.

Reverend Rainbow had just finished writing her details in the registry. The bridesmaids were back in place and the groom and bride where now centre stage holding hands. Jason shuffled awkwardly in the background as another bead of sweat headed southward. The congregation waited in anticipation as the Rainbow Reverend put aside her book and tried to smile at the young lovers.

“Now the time you two have been waiting for.”

The music started to play in the back ground as the lighting was lowered. Amazingly, a single, golden ray of Christchurch sun shone through one of the many stained glass windows illuminating the couple. It seemed as if God himself had broken into the world and orchestrated this moment with his own hands. Perfection.

“You may kiss the bride.” Were the words uttered as Reverend Rainbow stepped back to shun the limelight for the first time since Thursday night. Women gazed, anticipating the connection of lips, many starting to shed a tear, happy to be part of such a spiritual moment. Men nodded with sly grins, watching, hoping, and remembering their own marriage kiss.

The bride leaned forward, eyes closed…anticipating. The congregation leaned slightly forward, joining with the bride’s anticipation. The world was in slow motion and then the groom started his move. Slowly he tilted his head and bent down towards his beautiful bride savoring this God given moment and then out of the blue he just opened his eyes and gave her a peck on the lips.

Reverend Rainbow and Leo the Lion were both gob smacked. I was equally baffled as I see more action doing my lunchtime duty at my coed secondary school than I just witnessed with my own eyes. The congregation looked around, speechless. Jason used this brief uncertainty in the crowd to adjust his sweaty nether regions.

To be honest the rest of the day was pretty much normal wedding fodder. The function, held at Annies Wine Bar, was sensational. The evening was expertly developed by a Shem Banbury who held the evening together like superglue. He was everything a MC should be funny, compassionate and friendly. I would recommend him for your next wedding.

Another highlight was an innovative lollie bar that the bride had developed for the reception. Imagine your own personal pick’n’mix without the horrendous pricing and this is what we had. It was fantastic and the only problem was half the people at the reception were Dutch. Nothing wrong with Dutch people but given the opportunity to take anything for free and they are like dogs with a bone. When I finally got to the lollie bar it was a bare tree stripped of all its leaves.

It would be remiss of me not to mention one final point in this written dribble. I am actually related to the groom and so therefore I would like to comment briefly on the family that he is marrying into. You will have heard of the Dutch Dirkzes family from Christchurch. I can state this without hesitation because they are without equal the loudest family in Christchurch. You may not have meet them but you would have heard them. They are so loud the Christchurch City Council has a bylaw require they family to live beside the railway line so they at least have competition 7 times a day as the train rumbles passed.

So it will be interesting to see how our wee groom handles life in such a noisy environment. My advice would be at any further family functions to mix with the Bride’s Papa who at 96 years of age was a breath of inspiration at the Sunday barbeque. His beautiful GRACE was moving and capped off a great weekend. Furthermore, at 96 years of age he still drives a manual and most importantly he does mind a minute or two of silence in between the trains rumbling passed.

I have just started my Christmas shopping for 2009. You will be pleased to know that I have not bought one thing, despite spending 3 hours in The Palms Mall in Christchurch. To many people this would be a concern. Not to me. I am a trained shopper, love the hustle and bustle of buying on the 24^th and therefore still have plenty of time up my sleeve. That is not to say I haven’t tried buying my presents. Today, as I have said, I spent a number of hours in the mall, but unfortunately the shopping cards have not fallen kindly for me.

Without exaggerating shopping has been interesting to say the least. Firstly, I made the mistake of trying to buy lingerie for my wife. The mistake wasn’t so much in the buying of the gift the mistake was taking my two boys along with me. I don’t know if you have ever shopped for lingerie with your children but I can tell you if you are contemplating doing it tomorrow I suggest a change of plan. Initially things started well. I had gained the assistance of a shop worker and had narrowed my choice down to a lacy fluro green two piece or a silk petticoat. I was pleased with my good progress until, while I was weighing up my options with the helpful lady, a flying bra landed on the shop assistance’s head. Apparently my eldest son thought they looked similar to his army paratrooper and was trying to throw them onto the ceiling. Things didn’t get any better from then as my younger boy decided that an entire trolley stand full of Elle McPhersons D Cup Full Body Enhancer Bras would make an excellent cart to wheel around the store. He started his first lap well but attacked the second corner with too much speed and only quick intervention from me stopped the entire stand falling over. By this time every women in the store was looking at me so I made a quick exit.

Next up was a trip to the jewellery store. This was the most important stop in my well planned shopping excursion. Unfortunately the rest of Christchurch had decided to descend on Michael Hill Jewellery Store and the place was thieving throng of sweaty men and desperate women. Huddle in the front row were me and the two boys. I was concentrating on finding the perfect earrings for my wife. My two boys were busy concentrating on exicuting the perfect blowfish on the beautiful glass counter. I ignored the boys and thought I had found a nice little pair of dangling shark teeth which would be perfect for Mrs Mandias. Ignoring the boys turned out to not be the best option as my next glance revealed they had moved from the counter and were now licking the mirror at the far end of the shop like it is a giant lollipop. Another quick exit was needed.

By this stage I hadn’t actually purchased any item and I felt it was time for some refreshments. Buying food with kids is a nightmare and this was no exception. We purchased a drink each and a small muffin. After carrying one child in one hand, our tray of food in the other and chasing the final boy, we made our way to a small table in the corner of the food court. I hadn’t even looked at my hot chocolate, and was about to bite into my muffin, when the oldest boy announced

“Daddy I need to go to the toilet.”

“Can you hold on”, I asked.

“No daddy its almost there”

Moments like these are difficult for parents. Do I risk it all, have my drink and muffin in quiet, and hope the boy has exceptionally strong pelvis muscles. Or do I do the proper thing and leave my food unattended, take the boy to the toilet and hope that the people of Christchurch are honest and reliable. I can tell you now that my oldest son does have strong pelvic muscles, but unfortunately they are not strong enough. Needless to say this event ended my shopping trip with the boys.

Please don’t look upon this as a complete failure. Together we saw many sites, turned bras into paratroopers, licked mirrors like they were covered in ice-cream, spent three hours in the mall and wet our pants in the middle of the food hall. We didn’t buy one item for anyone but at least the muffin was fresh and the hot chocolate delicious.

Daddy Day Care / Minus Mum - call it what you like!!!!

Today was the first of four days I have effectively termed ‘Daddy Day-care’. Other terms that I could have used are ‘Flying Solo’, ‘Minus Mum’ or even ‘Father Fun Day’. Fathers reading this blog will be familiar with these terms referring to times when the mother goes away for some reason and the children are looked after by their father. I am in that zone and for the next 96 hours Ozy Mandias is a single dad flying solo as Mrs Mandias has decided to leave our family holiday due to work commitments.                  

I have been vice captain of this team for some time now but this is the first time that I have been given the role of captain since the birth of our children. Before we analyse this with too much depth I think it is important to note how long this captaincy is for. A total of four days is not a just a token gesture. Baby sitting for 3 hours is a token gesture that some men are given from their wives. Ask any man and they will tell you that four days represents a sign that I am coming of age as a father. My wife has tested me with smaller, 30 minute slots over the last few years, and I have passed with flying colours. I have shown my ability to wash, feed and nappy change our children and my wife now considers me ready for the next step. This next step is the week away and is the last test in me completing my fatherhood license. 

Passing the fatherhood test is no easy task, especially with Mrs Mandias as our previous captain. Most people won’t realise the role that Mrs Mandias plays in our family. She is the captain, coach, physio, cook, finance advisor, and everything else within the Mandias family. Her role is so far-reaching that members of our family have started calling her Daniel Vettori, in reference to her single-handed running of this family and crafty off break she bowls during our family backyard cricket games. 

So you can see that to take over the captaincy will not be an easy job for me. I will have to step up in every area and raise my game to a level that I have not attained before. So how did things go today you may ask. 

First up we had church in the morning. This turned into a nightmare when our younger boy deciding then rather us paper to draw a picture on he would use his face as a canvas. His mouth, therefore, became the ink well. 

Next we went to the Arts Centre for lunch. This was great until the older boy decided to run everywhere yelling swear words at the top of his voice. He then used the KEEP OFF THE GRASS SIGN as a balancing object and finally he decided to use two sticks to attach every seagull in the area. Much to the horror of onlookers and the poor bird he caught on the left wing. 

Our afternoon activities went well until the younger boy decided to try his hand at climbing every item in the house. In the process checked the density of our coffee table with his head. Needless to say that it is a little harder than his head. 

Dinner, bath and bed time proved to be a difficult proposition and as captain I will be changing a few things tomorrow. Firstly, at dinner time when the first piece of food is thrown I will not retaliate and step in earlier. Today I left it until three pieces of broccoli had been thrown until launching a counter attack of my own. 

Bath time was actually completed well but this was as expected as this is my domain every night. 

The final aspect was bed time. Even with two parents working like Clydesdale horses this is a difficult job. Tonight with only one pilot it felt like I was piloting a 747 as well as being the air hostess and air traffic controller. I started by reading Hairy Mac Cleary and saying our prayers and this went well I thought all boxes had been ticked. I then turned off the lights and went through into the lounge for a well earned break. Ten minutes later I heard giggling from the room and upon entering both boys had swapped beds and where practising their 2012 gymnastic routines. I yelled and screamed and this seemed to do the trick until ten minutes later I returned to the room and found both of the boys in the same bed singing songs. I yelled at them some more and as of 7:56pm I have not heard from them again. 

Sadly, as I reflect on my first day I would have to say that at the very least I have only passed with a ‘C’. Thankfully, under NCEA every person passes and I have another 3 days to get it right.