Black outs and Baby Jebus

I am sitting post blackout. We had another stirling electrical storm with thunder and lightening just overhead. The kids were in the pool, with me supervising the weather. Rain - cool. Thunder - cool. Lightening - not so cool. Time to get out. I'm a good mum like that. Always have the kiddies best interests at heart.

So with a power outage due to the storm we set about getting candles ready in case of a long haul. Also sorted out a bbq dinner. Then the kids wanted activities. The candle lighting gave Missy an idea. "Can we do a ceremony for Jesus?"

Hmmm.

Now, I don't class myself as an atheist, although many seem intent of whacking me in a box of some sort, but I don't believe in a God. I do, however, respect any one else's belief system whatever it may be. I also have enough respect in their beliefs to add an initial capital to the name God. See, very accommodating.

The subject matter comes up from time to time in the house as the kids pick up stories and ideas from their friends at school, and especially around this time of year. I tend to tell them what the mainstream story is surrounding what they have heard, throw in a couple of alternatives that others might believe, and ask them their thoughts on the matter. We have always been open with them that dad is a 'pro' (sorry, but always gives me a chuckle) and mum goes for the negative.

The kids themselves aren't hugely fussed either way at present. They are just wee sponges that suck up info, regardless of the topic matter. I don't really think any of them are of an age to make up their mind as to what side of the fence, or even which fence they sit on. It's all just information.

They all have the choice at school as to whether they will participate in "Scripture" classes, and which denomination they prefer. At present the younger two, 6 and 7, have chosen Non-scripture. Our eldest picked Catholic for the tail end of the year, after the first two terms of Non-scripture resulted in extra maths work. Not cool teachers. Talk about subtly determining their choices.

Arse-end result of this natter is that Missy, 6, asked if they could draw pictures of baby Jesus to hang in the house. Liberal ole Me figured that this was okay if that's what they wanted and I now have multiple pictures that resemble a cocoon with a human head poking out hanging from my ceiling. Because they need to twirl apparently. As do many of us.

The poop has hit the fan.

I have been whinging and cursing to myself lately about the bats that have started frequenting the tree outside my son's bedroom. Every night the big boy arrives, and on occasion he'll bring a roomie with him. I have a wee love hate relationship with this bat. Sort of like Charlie in that 2 guys show with the kid. He constantly infuriates me with little things like leaving his deposits all over the back yard, ie my clothes line and anything I have left on it overnight. At the same time I have a little chuckle about his conquests, wondering if they know he's a bachelor boy and probably will never change and settle down. I am in awe of his size and grace when flying, the volume of his wings flapping as he takes off. But I really do wish he would stop crapping every where.

We had a pesky Minor bird fly into the house yesterday and in its attempts to break through the glass in every room, it let loose of its bowels quite frequently also. I'm still finding some of those wee gifts. The two year old and I did have a laugh as we ran around pulling blinds and closing doors to air traffic control him out the front door, although hers was one of those half laugh/half scared sounds, mine was half laugh/half getting really annoyed now. Genuine laughs came once the wildly flapping window slamming dude was outside.

Today I have the joy of three of my kids with gastro. The husband has it too, as do I. I'm like cool hand Luke with my trigger finger at the ready with disinfectant, other hand in cobra strike pose towards the paper towels. As much as I try to enlighten the kids that gastro is much like the accounting system FIFO, First In First Out, they don't seem to get it. I should be pleased they are still willing to eat and drink instead of being like their dad. He's the one sniffling in the corner, loudly complaining to anyone in earshot, curled into foetal position and thinking the sky is falling.

So yeah, a lot of shit going on right now.