Mums woke up to burnt toast with some vegemite slapped on it, a luke warm half cup of tea and cards still damp from the glue.  Doesn't sound very exciting...but still it is testament to a Mum's love that every year she opens her eyes...feigns complete suprise and says "Oh how wonderful!"  All the while thinking "Is it too much for the them to make scrambled eggs?" 

While I didn't get the burnt toast (oh thank goodness)...I did get lovely hand made cards and some little girly goodies the kids purchased from a stall at school last week. 

I also received a bunch of flowers from my husband (very rare indeed).  Upon further inspection though..they were all dead.  He raced back to the shop...got a refund...and bought me a scratchie instead. 

Happy Mother's Day.  May your flowers not be dead, your toast not be burnt and your kitchen still in one piece.

To pass the time one evening we played a game of I Spy.  It was my son's turn (he's the cute 7yr old) and he spied something starting with the letter "F".  We went through everything we could see that started with "F".  Nothing was right.  Eventually we all gave up in disgust.  His answer was "fongs".  He said "See...all our fongs over near the tent." 

After composing ourselves, we said they're "thongs" with a "th" and not an "f".  Doh!  Well when you're 7 and missing your front teeth I guess it's pretty tricky to say anything starting with "th".

Keep Smiling.

 ...oh the shame!

Don't panic though.  I have since discovered he's been shaving off those little fluff balls that appear on our winter woolies.  I found the evidence in his cupboard...a razor and a jacket that has been shaved down to bear threads. 

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*    A national dress code be put in place under which the wearing of King-Gee shorts with visible bottom crack of any kind and fluro pink zinc cream be banned. 

*    People who own four-wheel drives need to keep a record of where they've actually taken their vehicles "off-road" and driving over the footpath in front of me near the school car park does not count.

*    An identity card needs to be issued for everyone indicating preferred beer brand, nickname and day of the week to take a "sickie".  Anyone named Shazza, Bazza, Gazza, Wazza, Jimbo, Sharkey and Mate are expempt.  The Fourex Gold is in the fridge and we'll see you at work either Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday.

*    Greenhouse gases can be reduced if Bazza, Gazza and Jimbo stop eating 20 meat pies followed by a carton of Fourex Gold.  Maybe the Police Commissioner could utilise these blokes and give them a job bottling their own "gases" and issuing our Police Force with a new "silent but deadly weapon" to bring the bad guys to their knees.  Am sure they'd appreciate it more than capscium spray. 

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I was kinda stuck for a gift until this morning.  We lost power at 6.30am and discovered our iron was the reason for shutting down our power supply.  My husband irons his own shirts for work and has done so for many years.  Yeah, I know...but before you say anything, the reason he does his own ironing is because he critised the way I ironed his shirts once...many moons ago.  He said I didn't get the creases in the sleeves nice and crisp so I very happily walked away from the ironing that day and he's been doing his own ever since.  I figured he'd obviously been ironing very well before I came along and who was I to get in the way of such a beautiful man/iron relationship.  

I have on my table a box, nicely gift wrapped with a brand spanking new iron inside it.  Can't wait for my husband to get home from work tonight to see the look of amazement on his face at this very thoughtful gift for him.  Oh the joy.  Oh the tears of happiness that will flow.  Oh boy...think I better unwrap it and put in the box that PS3 game he's been wanting instead.  Happy Anniversary!

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