Arthur

Peanut is a calm, quiet kid. This is great at home, but it means that out in the big wide world she can get overlooked. As she gets older, this becomes more and more of an issue.

Last week she came home from her first morning at play school and told us her name was "Arthur". We had to call her Arthur or she wouldn't answer. It took me a couple of hours to work out that she was saying "other". Poor kid, she is the second Peanut in her class, so they have named her other. She doesn't seem to mind at all, she doesn't understand yet, but I just can't bear the thought of my precious, wonderful, funny, awesome kid being an other, and having it so liberally applied on her first day there! So I've coached her. If someone says "hey, other Peanut!" she now turns around and says "my name's not other Peanut, it's AWESOME Peanut!!" and she punctuates with a fist pump to the air.

Because, dammit, she IS awesome. The other kids need to know that. And, more importantly, she needs to know it too.

Crunchy, redux

So I trialled my homemade laundry powder.

It cleaned Mr Accident's feral training towel, so I tried it on some normal clothes, and it cleaned them too. This is quite a feat, because the results from normal shop-bought powder can be as hit and miss as a drunken darts player. A whole load totally clean is a great outcome.

The nicest thing is the smell. It doesn't! There's no overpowering fragrance smell. I didn't know my normal powder smelled bad until I sniffed a load of this stuff. It just smells... clean.

The final test was nappies, with a vinegar rinse. And it was AMAZING. They are so soft and non-stinky and CLEAN.

So I'm a convert. Even if it means I have to grate a bar of sunlight soap once a week, the lovely laundry and cheap price is so worth it. Hooray! Being crunchy doesn't mean I'm going to have stinky clothes!

In other news, I've totally backslid on the toothpaste. I can't stand the taste and the thought my teeth might not be perfectly sparkling, and to be frank, it's all a bit too much change at once. I might try again in a month or so. I don't feel too bad, because yesterday I made bread from scratch and more of my own yoghurt. For some reason my bread always comes out cakey. I know only one billionth of the Internet actually sees this blog, and most of you stumble here looking for something else (I SEE your search terms, people!) but if anyone has any bread tips, I'm all ears.

I've gone crunchy

Well, a little bit, anyway.

I'm conflicted. One minute I'll be reading about awesome natural toothpaste (great to save money and low on added chemicals), the next I'll be googling heinously expensive tooth whitening procedures.

But I've decided to add a bit of crunch to my life anyway. I started with natural toothpaste. It's just salt and bicarbonate soda, and it tastes like an ocean swim. Which is good if you dig salt, which I don't, and every time I brush my teeth I'm worried I'm one step closer to a coronary. still, I'll give it a week and see how I go.

For washing hair, I'm going to try the baking soda and apple vinegar method. I was too chicken to try it today, I was seeing my best friend and I didn't want her to tease me if I had a head that smelled like fish and chips. Which she totally would, that's why I love her. But I'll give it a crack one day I don't need to go anywhere. So maybe next century. I'll come back here when I'm 119 and let you know how it went.

I already use bicarb and vinegar round the house to clean, so my next experiment is washing powder. It's a soda (sensing a theme here?), sunlight soap and borax mix. I'm so excited to use it, but terrified at the same time. I found an old training towel Mr Accident had left outside, so I'll start with that. If that gets clean, the stuffs a miracle!

While I love the environment and saving money, I'm making the changes more for family health reasons. Hopefully putting less gunk on our skin and clothes will make everyone have that all natural, healthy hippy glow. And if, in the meantime, you see me and I smell like fish and chips... please, let me know.

Accidentally Fit

So the first day of Accidentally Getting Fit went well.

I made a whole bunch of cards with different exercises, grouped by colour for abs, cardio, arms and legs, with a few whole body exercises thrown in (burpees, ugh). I laminated the cards so they are morning-dew proof, and because I have a new laminator. I'm laminating everything. My house is a shiny morass of heat-sealed plastic paper.

To keep it random, in the morning I get the kids to draw out a couple of cards of each colour, then put them together to make a circuit. It works my whole body every time, and means I don't try and avoid the exercises I despise. (I'm known to be sneaky like that. I would be happy to never do another pushup again. I must have done about a million over the past ten years, all under duress.)

And then, just before my morning shower, I bring the kids outside and just get on with it. No excuses. If it's raining, I can do a full circuit inside, I have the world's dodgiest exercise bike but it does the trick.

Of course, I'm saying all this like a foregone conclusion, but I've only done it once! I'll try to power through the first 21 days it takes to make a habit, and then it should get as normal as brushing my teeth. Hmmm "should".... We'll see.

Yesterday was a good start, even through pushups were picked. Peanut spent most of the time jumping on the trampoline cheering me on, and telling me I was winning (at crunches!) and Bug just ran around waving her arms in an approximation of me doing weights, I guess. They both had a good time, and I did too, actually. It was nice to be out in the cool morning, breathing the fresh, washed air and enjoying some exercise endorphins.

I'm a bit stiff this morning, but I'll have some breakfast and head out to do it again. If you want to play too, you're welcome!

Limbo. The state, not the dance, unfortunately.

When Mr Accident is away it's all the firsts that are hard - the empty seat at the table, the first kids bathtime without his terribly excellent singing, the first time falling asleep without him holding my hand, the first time I have to drag my carcass out of bed to let the dog out in the morning. Every one a reminder of his absence, a reminder that Today Is The Day he starts on this new adventure, the one for which he (and we!) have spent over a year in preparation and training.

And now there is nothing I can do to help him any more. No more washing his training gear, cooking huge protein heavy meals or running out to buy new socks / goggles / god knows what else. No more turning a blind eye to the crazy online pack and boot purchases! And although it is arguable that all this was not much help during the prep process, compared to the three hours a day he was training, at least I felt like I was somehow in the passenger seat, helping to navigate. Now he's just off on his own. And I feel so helpless!

So I'm just going to have to put my faith in his training, his excellent equipment, and his boatloads of competence, and wait. Oh god, the waiting.

No news is good news, and we have seven weeks to go....

Gone again...

Well, Mr Accident is off again.

This time it's just a course, but it's very competitive. This is the first time I've ever hoped NOT to see him home early! If he's back before the end of the course it means he's either very badly injured, or he's failed. Since he's been training for this for about 14 months now, it's not something he's taking lightly.

From his perspective, the hardest part will be the epic levels of physical labour, walking, limited sleep, lack of food and constant testing. It makes wrangling two kids in his absence look very very easy. Unfortunately, it doesn't actually *make* it easy, especially when they are missing him and acting out!

Well, that's why I have friends, I guess. I was chatting to my lovely neighbor about it yesterday, and she (gotta love her) goes "well, I don't normally drink on a weekday, unless it's an emergency... but you can come sit on my back step and chat any time. I'll bring the wine!" That's a solid back up plan if ever I heard one. I might just take her up on it.

The lost art of feminism

I am a woman. I like to wear dresses and nice shoes that clack when I walk. I wear lipstick. I cry at documentaries when the mother polar bear loses her baby. I own and use handbags.

But. But.... This doesn't mean I am incompetent. So why, every time anything needs doing at our local community centre, do they ask a room full of women - strong, clever, funny, wise women for the most part - if they have a husband who can help? "Anyone have a husband who knows how to fix a computer?" (No, but I can...) "Anyone have a husband who can come down and cook the BBQ?" (No, he wouldn't want to, he'd rather mind the kids, but I can...) "Anyone have a husband who can move chairs for us / clean the toys / put up the shelves in the shed etc etc etc" The list is endless. As endless as my ability to use a hammer or a wet rag.

I am not a superhero, but neither is my husband. Other than reaching a foot higher than me without a step ladder, or looking hot in board-shorts, there is nothing at that community centre that he could do that I cannot.

So please, committee ladies, stop asking for husband-help, lest I end up spending every weekend volunteering at "husband jobs" out of a moralistic sense of feminist outrage. *end rant*