Remember the time I said there was nothing I wouldn't talk about? Yeah, this is another one of those embarassing times.

Sister, you probably shouldn't read this. You'll be scarred.*

The dreaded has happened.

The day every parent lives in cringing fear of.

The day your kid walks in on you when you're in the middle of sexytime.

Yep.  Hot Stuff just got home from two weeks away at work and we snuck upstairs after plunking the kids in front of the computer.  We figured they would be totally absorbed, as they are forbidden to play on or near the laptop, so this is a very rare treat. 

"Hey, we just bought ourselves at least half an hour of funtime." "What are we going to do with the extra 25 minutes?" (I can really turn up the heat, I know.)

About five minutes after clothes have been flung everywhere, The Princess walks into our bedroom and says, "Hey, what are you guys doing??"

Hot Stuff jumped off me out of bed and yelled, "GET OUTTA HERE!"

As she's hauling ass back downstairs, I hear The Princess shout down to her brothers, "Hey guys, guess what!! I saw Daddy's penis!!"

Mood: gone. I had a massive fit of the just-got-busted giggles and that was it for me.

I hid in the upstairs hallway, still giggling like a jackass, while Hot Stuff braved the rabble downstairs.  I hear The Princess say, "Hey, what were you guys doing up there, anyway? Were you having the sexy?"  (She's FOUR. Where did hear that from?)  Then The Hurricane pipes up with, "Were you having sex? My friend told me that sex is when a man puts his penis into a vagina."

DA FUQ?

That's the exact moment where every ounce of air exited my body all at once, and I went blind for a minute or so.  Also, I had an epiphany: I need to start drinking. Heavily.

When my vision cleared and I could breathe again, I came downstairs to have a Short But Serious Talk with the 7 year old about sex. I was wholly unprepared for his awareness of what sex is at the age of seven.  Hot Stuff and I talked with the boy, all the while I couldn't help feeling more than a little sad that my son has taken another step forward in growing up.  I wanted him to be little for just a while longer. Say, another 15 years.

*I told you you'd be scarred.**
**Probably everyone who read this is scarred. I know I am.

I should just stop. Really. It's getting embarrassing.

I don't know why I still do this, I get burned every time.  I really need to stop buying things off of Facebook's buy and sell.  I am trying to be environmentally and fiscally responsible by not buying something new that someone has offered for sale in "good condition." I think I'm a smart person, but I'm pretty stupid when it comes to bargains.

1. The Sunbeam Mixmaster: bought because I wanted a stand mixer to save time and energy baking.  Also, I was getting too lazy to knead my own bread.
How it backfired: The bowl was not big enough to handle my bread dough recipe, and often the bread dough would get sucked up along the hooks until it covered the whole bottom side of the mixer... and I would end up stopping the mixer to scrape off the gooey dough.  Also, right after I bought it, a screw broke on the bottom rubber ring on the big bowl, and another screw melted; after a couple of months, the rubber ring on the bottom fell right off, rendering the bowl useless.

2.  The high-speed blender: bought because my old blender worked okay, not great, and was missing a lid; I could not find a replacement lid anywhere.
How it backfired: Aha, you see, I did get smarter this time.  I had the seller plug it in and make sure everything worked before I bought it.  First time I went to use it, I realized it had no rubber O-ring seal on the bottom.  Had to make my own using a sink plug that I cut to fit, which was too thick and ended up cracking the bottom plastic piece that holds everything together.

3.  The bunkbeds: moving into a smaller place, boys had to share a room.  Bunk beds were the answer!
How it backfired: I specifically asked if all the nuts, bolts, and screws were there. Oh yes, absolutely, everything is there! Put it all together, was missing one very important bolt. I ended up trying a slew of different bolts, and none of them fit.  So I left it alone and prayed the whole thing would not collapse. (Problem Solving 101: If you can't fix it, just pretend it's not a problem.)

4. The desk: bought because I wanted a corner desk.
How it backfired: It was a piece of shit.

And my latest aquisition...

5. The bike: I don't have a bike.  I need a bike. 
How it backfired: It was advertised on Facebook as, "good condition, has been in the shed for a bit.  No longer riding it."  I noticed in the picture that there seemed to be a bit of rust on the handlebars, and was told that yes, it was just a bit rusty on the handlebars.  The seller seemed nice, and offered to drive it half an hour to my neighborhood, because we're new here and I didn't know how to get to her town.  So we agreed to meet Sunday afternoon.  Sunday morning the seller texts me and says, "I'm here!" and I'm all, "Oh shit!" because we are flying out the door on our way to a birthday party - which we would have been on time to if I hadn't been sidetracked.  So I drive to the arranged meeting place and, in a hurry, load the bike into the back of my truck. I want to haul ass and get to the birthday party while we can still be fashionably late, and not rudely late.  Twas not to be.  I spent 10 minutes trying to get a word in edgewise until I finally blurted, "I'm really sorry, we have to be at a birthday party right now.  We've got to run."

After the birthday party, I get home and unpack my little gem.  And by gem, I mean turd.  Every piece of bike that is not covered with paint is rusted. It took me forever to get the tires back on (seller had taken them off to fit the bike into her hatchback) and get the brakes hooked back up.  By this time, it's late and I've got to get supper on, so I leave the bike for today.

This morning, I am pumped to finally ride Rusty, as I've affectionately named my mount, but first I need to adjust the seat.  Except the easy-release clamp for the seat is rusted in place. No worries, mate, I can fix it. Aaaannnndd the back tire is also flat. Super. Duper.

In totally unrelated news, I'm buying a new used bike tomorrow, that Hot Stuff found for me, and picking up a pre-loved bedframe on Wednesday! These are going to be good deals, I can feel it.

I gave up rather quickly.

"Hey Princess, it's going to be your birthday soon, we should talk about birthday st-"

"Omigosh!! Okay, I totally want a night sky, can you paint a night sky, like in the My Mum Goes to Work book, with stars and a sun, okay? Oh! No I don't want a sun, because it's nighttime, jee-eez.  Can I have stars? Can you paint them? Oh! And a moon, can I have a moon?"

I don't see that happening.

"Well, okay, maybe we could have some stars for decoration.  Would you like to do something special for your birthday?"

"I want to have a party here, that would be fun. Can Peppy and Coe come?"

"No, sweetie, they're back in Canada."

"Well, can I have my birthday in Canada?"

"No, it's way too far away."

"Well, who will come to my birthday, then? I don't have any friends here."

Felt that one right in the feelers.

"We'll invite our new friends, honey.  All the kids that we were playing with this weekend can come.  What kind of cake do you want?"

"Oh! I know! I want a Hello Kitty cake, with four rings, like rings for kids on it."

Yessss, Hello Kitty is super easy..

"No! Wait! I know! I want a Barbie Cake! With a unicorn on it!"

"But you love Hello Kitty.  Don't you want a Hello Kitty cake instead?"

"Um, no.  I want Barbie.  And a unicorn!"

Barbie. Ugh. I hate Barbie. And unicorns? So 2011.

"Ooooookaay, Barbie and a unicorn it is!"

Can't help it. The kid's a doll. She makes you love her.

Turn the Radio Up, For That Sweet Sound.. that is not your children talkin' crazy

I have been hearing some interesting conversations going on in the backseat of the vehicle lately. I have come to the conclusion that I need to keep that radio cranked.

Exhibit A:

The Princess, "When I'm a grown up lady I'm going to be pregnant eleven times!" Pause. "I'm allowed to marry my brother, right Mom?"

(This is the part where I swerve into oncoming traffic.)

Exhibit B:

The Hurricane, playing with a pair of toy handcuffs (not mine, you dirty beggars), "My girlfriend is pretty so I'm going to put handcuffs on her."

(This is the part where I let go of the wheel and hit the gas.)

Aaaaannnnnddd this is exactly the moment when a mother starts building that lovely wall of Denial.  When her offspring are mostly or fully grown and have been arrested, a mother can say with complete conviction, "Oh, not my baby, my baby would never do something like that! He's always been such a good boy!"

And in other news that boosted my self esteem, The Princess told me not long ago, "Wow, Mommy, your underwear are huge!" Oh really? Well, you go ahead with those eleven pregnancies and we'll have a Big Unders competition. Brat.

I knew it was a classy joint because everyone* was wearing shoes.

So I didn't see it much when we were in Brisbane, but there is something that I see all the time in our little corner of Aus, and I'm surprised by it every time.

People are barefoot. Everywhere.

I'm not talking about little kids being shoeless at the park or the beach. I'm talking about people of all ages going barefoot in the grocery store, at Target, in the mall, in public restrooms (gross), walking down the street, at the gas station, in restaurants. Nobody even bats an eye. It's totally normal for people to wear their dirty feet into a public place.

Sorry, Australia, I am falling in love with you, but that shit is weird.

Josh and I went out for dinner on our last date night, and he took me to a restaurant, called The Hog's Breath (these Aussies and their sense of humor).  From the outside, The Hog's Breath appears to be a bar and grill.  From the inside, it also appears to be a bar and grill, but there are kids everywhere.  Right behind me I can hear the Friday night regulars getting hammered and watching footy, and everywhere else I look there are kids. There was even a kids birthday party.  At a bar. A bar. Honestly, I didn't even know what to make of it.

So, I look around and notice everyone* is wearing shoes.  I was impressed, as it was the first time since moving to our new place that I had been anywhere that everyone old enough to drink alcohol was also wearing shoes.  I guess it's one of those things that you just get used to. All I know is that with all the shit that will kill you for sport around here, I'll feel a lot better with a quarter inch of cheap plasticized rubber between me and the ground.

*Everyone except two small children from the birthday party who spent most of the time running laps around our section. When a man from another table accidentally knocked over his empty beer bottle and it bounced an incredible four times before smashing right next to my (sandal-wearing) feet, their parents put shoes on them.  Safety first, right?

Oh you know, just moved across the world. No biggie.

So my little family has moved to Queensland, Australia, from Alberta, Canada. Can't really get much farther (further?) from home. We've been here a little over a month and so far, so good. Hot Stuff's employers paid for our flights, and also are paying for us to rent furniture until our stuff comes from Canada (which they also paid for). So, basically, his ass belongs to The Man for a minimum of one year.  My ass, however, is (not for rent) currently hanging out in the Rental House, planted on a Rental Couch, watching a Rental TV.  Earlier, I ate some chips from a Rental Bowl with some hummus I got from the Rental Fridge. Later I will go sleep in the Rental Bed tucked into the Rental Linens. Obviously, I am not big on commitment. Also, they don't call them Linens. Aussies call them Manchester - which includes towels, etc. I don't get it?

I have to say, though, that Australia is pretty cool. It's Spring here, which means the weather is GAR-JUSS, JUST GAR-JUSS.  I haven't yet (knock wood) seen anything that can kill me in the blink of an eye. I guess dodging venomous things is more of a Summer game. Guess I'll find out soon enough.

It's always awkward being The New Guy, and it's not like I have an over-abundance of Social Ease, so I tend to leave it up to others to start a conversation.  Thankfully, others have approached me and I've met a couple of nice people.  It helps that I joined a gym and my trainer is being paid to be my friend for half an hour a week. Also, no one has assumed I am American, everyone just asks where I'm from.  One grocery store teller did ask me if I was Irish. I was flattered.

So my days are full of Getting Shit Done and sweeping and mopping and laundry.  When we first moved into the Rental House, I found a roach. I HATE bugs. I am repulsed and disgusted by bugs. The sweeping and mopping makes me feel like I am being proactive in keeping bugs away because bugs probably don't want to be walking across clean floors (yeah, pretty delusional, I know).

Man, I'm pooped tonight. Time to get to bed so I don't miss the awesomeness of Hot Stuff snoring. Also, more mopping and sweeping and laundry to do tomorrow. Sure don't want to be tired for that!