Kits in the Kitchen

There's a drum kit sitting smack bang in the middle of my kitchen at the moment.

We're talking bass drum, snare, tom-tom, and a hi-hat.

Why is it in my kitchen?

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

If you ask my Beloved, that is.

If you ask me - well, I actually can't post my reply here, being a PG-rated site and all.

See, our daughter, aged 8, has joined the school band. And after in-depth testing of rhythm, tone, and embouchure, the music teachers in their wisdom decided that the instrument of choice for our girl would be the glockenspiel ... and drums.

Coming from a fairly musical family, I get that she has some natural aptitude. I mean to say, you could pretty much set up a band of any sort using members of our family, across multiple generations. And anyone who knows us will tell you that any time any number of us are together out comes the guitars and gear and the jam session begins. It's the Irish in us coming out. To be sure.

But glockenspiel?

And drums?

Most kids get given one instrument, however our teacher decided to use Miss V as a guinea pig and have her learn two at once. Kinda like a one-woman percussion section.

When our son joined the band he got the trumpet and followed in my (brief) footsteps as cornet player in the school band, back in my day.  Happy to say I didn't embarrass myself when he brought the thing home and could still make a noise, even though it was one that may have had the 'Great Satchmo' Louis Armstrong turning in his grave (I would say 'Rest In Peace' but that's not likely with us on the trumpet).

So when our little girl decided she too would try out for the band, we expected her to get a similar thing, maybe some 'girly' instrument like the flute.

But no, glockenspiel and drums it is.

So glockenspiel and drums are what's taking up residence in our residence. Albeit in the kitchen.

Thing is, there's not a lot of space at our place. The 3 bedrooms are already filled with bodies and bits. And the living room is no place to make music that could wake the dead.

Unlike my father when we were young, we're not about to kick kids out so that there can be a dedicated 'music room' (sometimes I swear he'd escape in there just to drown out the arguments of three feisty females crammed in one small room).

So we're attempting to clear out the old garage, where many a great muso has had their start.

Unfortunately we didn't do so before we brought the drum kit home. It couldn't stay in the car, even though the cymbal was playing its own catchy little jazz beat every time I hit a bump (tcch tch tch tcch tch tch tcch). So my Beloved brought it in and dumped it in the kitchen.

You try making dinner with a bass drum between you, the stove, and the cutlery drawer!

I can only say the beating of the skin was somewhat louder than the curses that came out each time I booted the bass, or caught myself on the little lugs en route to the dining table (which incidentally, has a trumpet case sitting on it for some strange reason).

After a number of drum solos inadvertently performed by each member of the family in their turn taking dirty dishes to the sink, I asked my Beloved when he envisages the kit and kitchen might part ways: "As soon as we get a decent spot cleared in the front room to set it up," is his not-so-promising reply.

Looks like I'm going to have to fine tune my footwork if the family expects to be fed on a  regular basis between now and then.

And if you can't stand the beat, well, stay out of my kitchen!

Jx

©2012

The Worm Has Turned

My kids made some new friends during these summer school holidays.

I'm not sure I like them very much.

Now I want to make it clear here that I am not one of those 'Helicopter Parents' always hovering over their kids watching every little thing they do.  I like to think I give my children enough space to make their own decisions, which are hopefully the right ones.

Nor do I have to "approve" their choice of playmates- suffice to say I trust my kids to choose wisely, lest they get led astray and suffer the consequences.

No, no, I parent from the periphery most of the time, with a gentle reminder every now and then as needed.

But this time I really had to step in and have an intervention. This was one relationship I did not want to see become long term.

At the risk of grossing anyone out, especially those who might be in the midst of a meal right about now...I'm talking worms.

I suspected something was afoot, er, abutt, when I noticed a spike in appetites of both my children, along with a general increase in irritability, but it was that telltale scratching that gave the game away. I now knew who was hanging out with my kids.

According to the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne, threadworm is a common childhood infestation, and it's almost a rite of passage for Aussie schoolkids to bring them home. Mine were simply smack bang in the middle of normalcy. I should be so proud.

After this delightful discovery, it was off to the pharmacy for the latest worming treatment.

How proud was I, when after wandering up one aisle and down the next one, with two itchy kids in tow, boychild spotted an assistant and helpfully called out (in his biggest bestest voice no less): "Can you tell us where the worm treatment is please?"  Another Kodak moment in motherhood right there folks.  Thankfully, 'tis the season, and we were but one family making that same enquiry that day.

We were then faced with a big decision: to go with the one-size-fits-all suspension, or the ever-so-attractive chocolate squares that promised to take threadworm, roundworm and hookworm out of the family equation.

Happily, the kids wanted to try the special chocolate, and only my Beloved proved a problem in taking his medicine like a big boy (apparently I should have offered him the kid-friendly choc squares too, rather than the adult option I went with for us). But I was determined to follow the recommended advice and treat the whole family at once. All for one, and one for all, and all that.

Of course the real fun begins once the treatment is taken... you gotta make sure that every single family member has clean clothes and bedding every morning and night for at least the next three. Bath towels and hand towels too. Oh and don't forget to vacuum thoroughly around all the beds each day, just in case any eggs are left lying around. Those hardy little devils can lay in wait for up to two weeks for their next host. Evil eggs.

With this in mind, I pretty much took up residence in the laundry, Dyson in hand. (We had a lot of sandwiches over that time. With PLENTY of handwashing done in between.)

Happy to report that all the attention and treatment seemed to do the trick, and the budding relationship my children had formed was budding no more.  We're now at week three and worm-free.

So imagine my dismay when I turned up at vacation care yesterday to collect my kids only to be informed that a suspicious little bug had hopped off girlchild's head.

Ah headlice, my old foe.

I feel another intervention coming on...

Jx

©2012