Ten Things My Lovely Mother Lied About

1. "I'll tell your father!"

Mum's favourite disciplinary method was to tell dad the error of our ways when he arrived home from work and then, when he was paddling our bums, to feel guilty about it and stop him. It was a confusing time for all of us. Not that she told him everything. At family functions Mum will occasionally dust off a horrid tale about some disastrous thing we did as kids and Dad looks as surprised as anyone. Like when I was two and stepped into a bucket of gloss paint before walking through the house. Mum quickly called her mum and the two of them worked frantically to clean up the mess before my father came home from work, which probably explains why I’m still here to tell the tale. Dad found out at an Easter Sunday lunch ten years ago when I was 35.

2. "You can be anything you want to be."

Turns out I couldn't. I work in a bank so I'm about as far from being a Space Rock God as you can get. I can't even play air guitar, although I do space out a lot.

3. "I know everything."

When you’re a kid you really do think this, don’t you? Mum’s are SMART. I always thought my mum was pretty clever because she could work out who did what despite not even being in the room: sometimes just knowing we’d done something wrong, if not immediately knowing what. Now, of course, I realize she’d simply noticed I’d hidden the ‘world’s greatest stirrer’ spoon, which usually hung on the wall and which Dad used to paddle my bum with if I was naughty. For some reason I figured Dad wouldn't be able to smack me if he couldn't find the dreaded spoon. Sadly, my hiding skills weren't even as developed as my dodgy logic circuits and I’d usually just throw the thing under a cushion and plonk myself on top. Personally, when it comes to stuff my kids do, I know nothing. I admit it. I can almost hear my kids thinking, ‘he’s got nothing’, when I try bluff my way through. Tracey does better. How she even knows who was playing with which toy is beyond me. Hell, how she knows which names go with which child is beyond me most days. I'll tag along as she marches into a bedroom to discipline one of the kids for not brushing their teeth or leaving dolls out and be in absolute awe of her parenting skills and hoping some of her awesomeness will brush of on me. Essentially, I'm Robin: she's Batman.

4. "I never want you to leave." 

Oh, really, Mum? Now I admit I've also said this to all my kids and I know I said it genuinely and sincerely every time. But they were still cute at this point, having not attended school yet. It's such a wonder and joy when your kids squeeze their way into your life; it's hard to imagine ever being happy again without them being right there in the shadow of your helicopter. I think maybe this is why God invented the teenage years. I know I was grinning and waving like an idiot as Master20 drove off to university.

5. Big Family.

For years I thought my family was HUGE. Turns out a whole busload of people I thought were my uncles and aunties were nothing more than Mum & Dad's drinking buddies.

6. "If you eat your crusts you'll have curly hair." 

Mum loved this one, although I think it was just a ruse so I wouldn't waste any food. I went to boarding school where for five years I was so hungry I didn't waste things like crusts, gristle or apple cores. Despite this, I have a photo of me with a perm as proof positive crusts cause nothing more than indigestion if eaten too quickly and not chewed well enough. But then, maybe they only work on hair below the belt?

7. “Carrots are good for your eyes.”

Another of Mum’s favourites which I also think is a load of codswallop. Despite crunching my way through enough carrots to turn a rabbit’s fur orange, my eyes are shot. Although, to be fair, from when I turned fifteen the carrots were always going to be hard pressed to counter 'if you play with yourself you'll go blind'. Who knows, maybe my high carrot intake is why I can still find something to enjoy in a Jessica Alba flick.

8. Names. 

In grade one, we were asked what our parents' names were. My hand rose faster than my wife's temper. I had this one. After all, I'd been screaming at them to do stuff for me for years.

"Yes, Bruce?" my teacher asked.

"Mum and Dad," I said confidently.

"No, their actual names," she said. "Like your name is Bruce. What are your parents' names?"

What the hell was this nonsense?

To make matters even more confusing, I did try calling my parents by their Christian names, Geoff & Judy, on a couple of occasions, but they refused to respond. Well actually, Dad responded then Mum told him to stop. Things got even worse when a few years later I discovered Mum was also known by lots of other names - Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny and The Tooth Fairy amongst them. It was like living in an episode of The Saint. After this, I stopped being so keen to volunteer answers at school, which was a good thing because it freed up a lot of time for me to try catch Sally Noonan's attention.

9. "We don't play favourites." 

Then perhaps you could explain to me why my brother and sister were given two decent eyebrows a piece yet I only got the one? Yeah...that's what I thought. Worst still, my monobrow has a bloody cow-lick. Or rather, had a bloody cow-lick. Years of cosmetic surgery (waxing) have corrected this hideous imperfection, but at what cost? I no longer have the high moral ground necessary to toss scathing comments at my mates who drink shandies and have had perms. No, wait. That's me too. Hey, I’m a child of the eighties. Our role models were Boy George and Adam Ant for Pete’s sake. We were never going to turn out normal.

10. "Come here now, or I'm leaving without you!" 

Although I suspect this was an empty threat because three years ago, after repeatedly trying to convince me to move back to Brisvegas, my parents moved so Mum could be two hundred meters up the road from where I live. But how often was I threatened with this when I was lagging behind at the shops? And I’m a product of my mother’s upbringing. Not that I use this particular threat – my kids are more switched on than I was and would call my bluff. Instead I threaten to tell their mother. We're all rather sensibly scared of her, even though she doesn't even have a spoon engraved with ‘world’s biggest stirrer’ hanging on the wall. She doesn't need it.

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Ten Things Which Were Different In My Father's Day

1. BIRTH. When I was born my dad wasn't allowed in the birthing suite. He took this a step further and left the hospital. 
2. NAPPIES. Apparently, in the sixties, nappies couldn't be changed by men. My mother went into hospital to have her tonsils out when I was five, my sister was three and my brother was one. Dad didn't change a single nappy all week. He'd walk my siblings next door so our neighbour lady could deal with it. 
3. DRINKING. Mum wasn't allowed into the pub. Dad would bring her out a lemonade while she sat in the car. He was a responsible drinker too. Yessiree. Drink driving was firmly frowned upon so Dad always made sure he took the back streets.
4. KIDS. I did what I was told. My kids, not so much. 
5. WIVES. Wives did what they were told.....yeah, I'm not so sure about this one. My mum might have appeared to do what Dad suggested but I'm pretty sure he was only suggesting what she'd suggested, if you know what I mean. My wife? Don't even ask. Sometimes I think she does the opposite of what I suggest, even if it was her suggestion originally, just to show me who's boss.
6. DENTISTS. Dad's always been a stickler for regular check ups. Every twenty years, whether he needs it or not, he gets a check up. When I was fourteen, despite my solid argument it was six years too early, he sent me for a check up. The dentist took one look at my surname and burst out in hysterics. Seems my father was the only patient he'd ever had to bring in an anesthetist for a few simple fillings. I did ask if this was still an option but it wasn't.
7. FOOD. My Nanna had seven meals she'd work her way through every week. If it was Sunday, you ate roast. If it was Monday, you had cold cuts from Sunday. Visitors tended to avoid Monday. My Mum, on the other hand, was cutting edge. She was cooking spag bog back when you went out for that kind of fancy schmancy food. 
8. FASHION. I've seen the family photo albums and I'm convinced there wasn't any. In my father's hay day everyone in Australia wore the exact same clothes and that's not fashion, that's communism. When the seventies arrived, and people discovered the colour wheel, my Mum dyed all Dad's white shirts vibrant colours rather than buy new ones. He even had a pink shirt which, she assures me, was the seventies equivalent of a metrosexual.
9. ROAD RULES. Back when Dad learned to drive you didn't need things like indicators or an understanding of how stop signs work. My Dad is very nostalgic and to this day he still drives like it's the sixties.
10. GENDER SPECIFIC ROLES. Dad worked hard while Mum only had to clean the house. Or that's how he saw it. What actually happened was Dad went to work and Mum stayed home and cooked, washed, shopped, mopped, vacuumed, swept, helped with homework, mowed, weeded and did all those other irksome little woman's duties. Dad was so good at his work some of it could even be done while drinking beer: none of Mum's was. Dad has finished his work and retired now. Mum isn't as efficient and so hasn't stopped yet. 

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Ten Things I’ve Learned About Housework

When I walk into the kitchen and Tracey is a blur of spray-bottled activity, I know enough to throw out a ‘What can I do to help?’ The worst possible answer is ‘Nothing.’ Let’s be clear, she’s describing the past, not the future, and is saying how much work she thinks I’ve done, not what she’d like me to do.

1.      CUSSING. Housework isn't a dirty word. The dirty words tend to come if I don't help with the housework.

2.      RUBBISH. It's my job to take the bins out. I’ve learned not to argue or I might end up swapping bin duty with toilet cleaning duty. Both jobs stink but only one bears the risk of being splashed with dunny water. Also important to note: despite how important putting out a bin seems it doesn't mean I’ve done half the housework. I must always be vigilant in remembering not to strut around the place like a peacock and expect praise.

3.      TOILET.  For years it never occurred to me to wonder why the toilet didn’t stink. Then we had a baby and my wife was in hospital for a week and suddenly the realization hit me like a truck (a sewerage truck): my wife had been cleaning our loo behind my back! Once this little deceit was pointed out to me I naturally went on the defensive and attempted to argue I had also been cleaning the toilet. But apparently pressure cleaning the skid marks off the inside of the bowl while taking a leak doesn’t count.

4.      JOBS BY GENDER. One of the first things I learned when I moved out of my parent’s home was housework is not gender specific. The phrase ‘women's work’ is reserved for birthing. The washing machine, for example, doesn’t care if a guy or a gal presses the buttons and neither does the dishwasher or the vacuum. Plus, it’s been pointed out to me, saying I’ll take care of the outside of the house while my wife can take care of the inside is not an equal division of the work load. Even if there's a lot more outside than inside. Even if we lived on acreage. Even if our nearest neighbour was an hour away by air.

5.      JOBS FOR KIDS. Getting the kids to help out with cleaning is like the Holy Grail of housework. I can’t do it but Tracey thinks the trick is to play to their strengths. Need to clean out the fridge? Open the door and stick a teenager in front of it. Want the house washed? Give the hose to a preschooler and tell them they’re a fireman. Got a crawler in the house? Slip Enjo mitts onto their hands and feet and place them in the kitchen. I’m not going to admit to us having done any of these.

6.      CLOTHES WASHING. Washing clothes is hard. Firstly, you’re rushing because you’re trying to get the load on during an ad on the telly. Secondly, you can't put everything in the machine at the one time. I’ve now learned when my wife says ‘fill up the washing machine’ she doesn’t mean ‘to the brim’. Finally, clothes need to be sorted – washing whites separately is a good idea for starters unless you’re into powder pinks and blues. I wasn’t, but now they’re growing on me. So much to remember.

7.      FLOORS. Brushing crumbs and stuff off tables isn’t necessarily helping. Neither is letting the dog in the house to Hoover the floor. Go figure.

8.      PRAISE. If I come home from work and the place is tidy I like to consider the following questions: Do we have a maid? Have I entered the right house? Am I asleep? (Warning: do not actually ask these questions out loud unless your wife is deaf). At this point I’ve discovered a few encouraging words of thanks, or even a hug, can go a long way towards letting my wife know I appreciate all her hard work. Here’s an interesting thing I’ve learned about hugs which some guys might not be aware of - hugs aren't just an invitation for the horizontal two step and can sometimes be given without expecting anything in return. (No, seriously).

9.      CARWASH. I’m not allowed to count washing the car as helping with the housework. Once, when I tried to argue this point, my wife asked our kids if they’d like to clean the shower or wash the car and I don’t think you’ll be surprised to learn within seconds they were heading outside with buckets. Why? Because washing the car isn’t housework, it’s playing.

10.  CLEAN OUT. When we clean house our kids tend to follow us from room to room destroying all our good work so that at the end of two hours our house can look just as messy as at the beginning. Even on a good day it takes three times as long to do something when the little kids are in the house because of the endless questions and demands. The clever solution is often for me to generously and selflessly volunteer to take the kids away from the house. Tracey gets so excited to have some alone time she doesn’t care she's spending it doing the floors and folding. We’ve tried this the other way around but if I’m left in the house by myself I just take a nap which, once Tracey and the kids arrive back home, brings us inevitably and loudly back to the cussing and dirty words I was telling you about earlier.

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Ten Things I Love About Being a Dad

1. TIME. It uses up all that free time I used to waste sleeping in and drinking with friends.
2. CREDIT. The kids say far more amusing things than I do, but since I made them I get to take credit. Like when Miss5's pants fell down to her ankles when she was on parade and instead of being embarrassed she spread her arms and yelled, "Ta-daa" to the entire assembly. In my telling, around tables and bars, it's almost like I coached her for just such an incident. Doesn't always work in my favour though, like when Miss5 told her auntie she looked like a horse. Somehow I was blamed. Neigh, she wouldn't have heard that from me.
3. HAIR. I save money on upkeeping my hair because I get free grey highlights. Of course, if they could stress me more towards the blonde end of the spectrum that would be even better.
4. DIET. My kids are sort of a living diet because when they're around I never seem to have a whole meal to myself. To look at my chins you might think this is a bit of a porky, but if everything which was on my plate made it into my mouth I daresay I'd weigh an extra 50kg.
5. GAMING. I get to play cool computer games and pretend I'm just doing it to entertain the kids, when in fact they're hard up getting the controller out of my hands. It's also easier to persuade Tracey to part with money to buy a game if it's for one of our kids rather than because I want it. Which reminds me, Miss8's birthday is coming up and I need to build up a case for buying her Call of Duty, Black Ops.
6. MEMORIES. I can relive my childhood because there always seems to be an episode of Sesame Street or Playschool on our telly. Much better viewing than X Factor, especially if it's a rerun with John Hamblin.
7. MUSIC. I've discovered the musical genius of The Wiggles, One Direction and Justin Bieber. Okay, musical genius might be overstating it. Let's go with I've discovered they exist and no amount of alcohol seems enough to help me undiscover them. Any excuse for a beer, eh?
8. HEALTH. My immune system is top notch because the little buggers bring home every variety of bug from their schools and daycares. 
9. WORK. I enjoy going to work. I remember a time, twenty years ago, when walking out the front door in the morning had me dragging my feet. Not anymore. These days I positively skip past the stinky butts, past the bickering children and over the spilled breakfast cereal and out to the car. There are no dirty nappies at work and because of that I love my job. Thanks kids.
10. BUT BEST OF ALL. I'm never short of a hug. More than any other, this is the main thing I love - the other nine are just icing.

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Ten Things All Dads Should Know

1. CONSTRUCTION SKILLS. A father will need to know how to assemble everything from Lego spaceships to pushbikes to swing sets.  It took me a long time to fine tune this skill. Now I place whatever I need built in the middle of the kitchen and invite Tracey's dad over for a coffee. 
2. CRYING.  As any mother worth their salt will tell you, there are different cries. Fathers? Not so much. If we can hear a cry at all it's usually for one of two reasons. The first one is the cry is so loud we can't hear the telly. Cries of this magnitude tend to mean physical pain is involved so a father will need to find somewhere to safely deposit his drink, pick up his wounded child and go look for his wife so she can decide between kiss, band-aid or hospital. The second, and far more worrisome, reason he might notice his kid is crying is when his wife is standing between him and the plasma telling him about it. In this instance he must do something quickly, or otherwise he might be the one in need of a hospital. About the only time you can be sure a father is actively listening for the telltale cries or patter of feet is when he's in the bedroom practicing making another child with mummy and he doesn't want to risk getting up to lock the door in case his wife's mood changes while he’s away.  
3. IMPORTANT DATES. Remembering birthdays is the kind of thing a kid looks for these days. The more kids a father has the more difficult this becomes, but super sperm is no excuse for missing a birthday. You need to write them down. Thankfully, this is why they invented Lotto forms. By using your kids’ birthdays to complete your entries you’ll never forget a birthday again. You’re welcome.
4. FAVOURITE THINGS. A good father knows which toys, books or electronic devices are his child’s most loved. This is so we'll know what we can take off the little buggers to get their attention – a very handy bit of leverage when they won't do what we're telling them.  Not all favourite things work though. For this reason, things like our kid’s favourite number or colour will likely elude dads because you can't, for example, take the colour blue off them; therefore knowing this sort of thing is useless and a waste of brain cells to store. Although if they still don't behave after you've relieved them of their DS, you might be tempted to put a splash of the colour blue on their backsides. 
5. SPORTY STUFF. Active kids are happy kids, and every dad wants happy kids, if only because it means mummy won’t come and stand between him and his plasma. To achieve these active, happy kids a dad needs to know what his kids are interested in. This might be totally different to what his kids are good at, what he wants them to be good at or what he can afford them to be good at. Listening is the key. Recently two of my girls decided they wanted to do Ireland dancing. Unfortunately it turns out I enrolled them in Highland dancing by mistake. The good news is so far they haven't noticed.
6. CAR SMARTS. Growing up we all drove jalopies. My theory was dads back then gave their kid a crappy first car so they themselves would have something fun to do on weekends. You see, inevitably these death traps would stop moving, meaning dads and their mates could come out of the house with arms full of spanners to help get them going again, stopping briefly on the way home to grab a six pack. Well, this is one area where I shine because I know exactly what to do when a car breaks down - I call the local breakdown service, RACQ. Over the years I've called these fine fellows for everything from complete engine failure to faulty wipers. Without any doubt it is the best value $80 a year I ever spend. Usually the complete engine failure is a lack of this thing called fuel although I once had the breakdown people, and then a shop full of mechanics, baffled for days over why my car wouldn't start. They eventually ordered a $2000 new computer chip before realizing I'd been trying to start the car with the wrong key. 
7. HOMEWORK.  I don't have the answers, but I do have Google. For everything else, there's Wikipedia. I've heard the odd parent describe doing homework with their child as a great bonding experience. This has never been my experience. Sometimes I just want my two hours back so I can watch Top Gear.  And by sometimes I mean always.
8. OTHER KID'S NAMES. A father is supposed to be able to name their kids' best friends. I don’t know why, but I know this is true because I once saw it in a movie. Well, I fail. When Tracey and I recently played this game I named the school kids my lot least got along with because, well, they were the names in all the stories they were telling me.  Well I've done some research now and if we ever play this game again I will go with the following: Jacob, Michael, Joshua, Matthew & Daniel for the boys and Emily, Madison, Emma, Olivia & Hannah for the girls. These are the most popular names for the last decade so I figure they give me the best odds for success. Seriously, the identities of my kids' friends are generally as foreign to me as a Chinese menu in Beijing. But then I have seven kids so there is potentially a cast of thousands. 
9. COOKING. Where young kids are involved dads need to keep the menu simple because here's the thing - little kids quite often don't like chilli or overly spicy meals. Don't surprise the wife by making the family dinner and expect her to be thrilled if it's your famous Green Chicken Curry, because all she'll see is she still has to make dinner for the kids. If you want to cook dinner for your family, fellow fathers, you can’t go far wrong by firing up the BBQ. FYI, if you do manage to feed your family with a minimum of female assistance the chances of you having to listen out for the patter of little feet approaching your unlocked bedroom door later in the evening are greatly improved.
10. WHEN MUMMY NEEDS A SLEEP IN. The big one. Huddle round fellas. Some telltale signs to watch out for are a darkening around the eyes, a higher pitch from her usual speaking voice, glaring, snapping, yelling, hitting, slapping, crying for no apparent reason and generally looking at you like you're a moron even when you know you're being hell cute. You must learn these subtle signs because it is unlikely you will simply be asked. Letting mum sleep in will generally involve more than just mustering the kids in front of the telly and then falling asleep on the couch. The moment your guard is down the little sprogs will inevitably sneak beneath your snores and burst into your bedroom, waking their mum up with demands of breakfast. If this happens all points earned with good intentions are out the window. For the safety of all you need to get you and your children out of the house immediately. Take the mobile - she'll call you when you're allowed to come home.

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Ten Things I Want To Tell New Parents

1. ADVICE. Everyone from your mother to your mother-in-law, from your butcher to odd strangers wearing tea-cosies on their heads in the street, will offer you advice on raising your baby, whether or not you ask for it or even acknowledge their existence. Just nod politely and then do whatever the hell you want. They've had their chance to stuff up a kid, now it's your turn.
2. NURSERY. Don’t base your nursery design on the ones you see in movies. Here’s the thing, and I want you sitting down for this because it may come as a bit of a shock: movies aren't real. Here’s another thing: they have budgets in the millions. You don’t. There’s a lot of stuff you can buy which, quite frankly, you don’t need. Bassinets look great in photos but aren't necessary for a baby to sleep in: use the cot. My mum slept in a drawer when she was brought home from the hospital and she’s mostly fine. A bed makes for a great change table – but change nappies on your partner’s side, just in case there’s leakage.  And as for baby baths, just use a flat plug for the laundry tub until you’re happy using your actual bath. All the trimmings won’t make you a better parent, won’t make your baby any happier and won’t make the whole experience more enjoyable, it will just put an unnecessary strain on your purse strings, vastly diminishing your alcohol budget. Plus a cluttered nursery just means more stubbed toes.
3. NAMES. Who cares if one of your friends has a kid with the same name you like? I've seen friendships ruined because someone ‘stole a name’. Are they worried it’ll be so confusing their kid will go home with the wrong parent? When I was in Brisbane I knew best friends with the same first name –  Jess. No one ever confused them because they had different faces, personalities and surnames. Oh, and only one was a girl. The thing is, most kids will hate their name at some point anyway, so don't over think it and don't be turned off by what names other people like or are calling their kids. Call your baby whatever the hell you want. Afterall, you'll be the one yelling it.
4. NAPPIES. Cloth nappies are the equivalent of trying to generate your own electricity using rubber soled shoes and a rug - it all sounds nice on paper but in my experience the reality is there wasn't enough time in a day. I tried cloth nappies with my oldest. My wife couldn't understand why she needed to buy another pack of twelve every couple of weeks. I knew why. If my son did a poo I'd just throw the whole mess in the bin. I don't know the mechanics of what happens to the milk to make it come out the other end so nasty, but I want as little to do with it as possible. Go disposable - trust me, your life will be shitty enough.
5. CHORES. It is never too early to begin chore training - let’s start out as we mean to continue. I don't mean with your bub, of course. When you bring your baby home from the hospital have your husband changing nappies, making bottles and extracting burps from the get go. If you don’t you may find yourself charged with all kid related duties until the little buggers finally leave home on their European gap year. Yes, I know their cuteness is unprecedented in the history of mankind and no one in the world is capable of satisfactorily wiping poo off their bum like their mum, but you've got to think ‘big picture’ here. Hog the baby at your own peril.
6. SIX. Men will be counting down the six weeks from when you have a baby. Why? Don't pretend like you don't know: you were there when the doctor said it. If your little bundle was born at 2 in the morning, you can expect a tap on the shoulder in the wee hours exactly 42 days after that joyous event. Your big hunka spunk really loves you, sure, but part of his logic for settling down was the idea of having sex on tap for the rest of his life. Well he's been sitting on a bar-stool at the pub with no beer for a month and a half now, and the man is thirsty! Yes, we're fickle and shallow and perker-lead - but that's why you love us. Of course, doctors cause a lot of these arguments with their 'you can have sex in six weeks' pronouncement. There'd be less marital strain if they used a more accurate measure for when the sex tap will be turned on again. Something like, 'once the baby is sleeping through, when teething is finished, after your wife is back to a size 10, once you've helped with the dishes and if she ever again has the urge.' Then both parties would know where they stand. 
7. CLOTHES. When people offer you bags of their kids clothes, ALWAYS take them. It's not being cheap, it's recycling. Given how quick the little buggers grow out of their clothes, it's also common sense. Of course, you don't have to use it all. Pick out any nice stuff from the bag of clothes and pass the rest on to someone else. Most importantly, the money you save using hand me down clothes can pay for more and better alcohol. And don't kid yourself, you will be needing alcohol, that's why I keep bringing it up.
8. BABYSITTING. There's a prevailing opinion which says using the telly as a baby sitter is bad parenting. Poppycock. Teaching kids to 'roll their own' and blow smoke rings is bad parenting. Turning Sesame Street on and sticking your kid in front of the tube so you can have a quiet cuppa or go to the loo is like a sanity booster shot. But it doesn't need to stop there - you could conceivably use the tellysitter for housekeeping, cooking dinner, gardening, afternoon drinks with the girls and naps. On a not entirely unrelated topic, we have perhaps the most extensive DVD collection of kid's movies outside of Blockbuster.
9. MILESTONES. Kids develop at their own pace. While the rumours Einstein didn’t talk until he was four aren't true, doctors were genuinely concerned he was mentally challenged. As we all know, it ended up the challenge was for all of us to keep up with him mentally. The point is, if your baby hasn't rolled at 4 months don’t necessarily book a doctor’s appointment. Don’t worry too much about your bub hitting those milestones – just watch and be amazed when they get there under their own steam, whenever that is. Having the only one year old who isn't walking at your mother’s group doesn't mean your kid is the dumbest. I have a 20 year old son who still can’t seem to make his own bed – and he’s at university! 
10. MEDICINE. Don't wait until your child is cutting a tooth at midnight to stock your fridge with drugs. Kids have a habit of reaching their pain threshold within minutes of the local chemist closing for the weekend. Always have a good supply of kiddy painkillers and teething gels on hand. And Phenergan. Babies can't have the Phenergan until they're two, but then it's not just for children, is it? Heads up - if you're struggling with point number 6 (SIX) above, well, if a little was stirred into his cup of tea before bed the randy bugger probably wouldn't even notice. Just saying.

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Ten Things I Suspect My Wife Hates About Me

1. My one handed dishwashing. While reading a book. Well I was reading already when the dishes needed doing. When it comes to multitasking I'm an old hand - an old withered hand gripped by arthritis and hangnails. My greatest multitasking achievement is being able to simultaneously not watch more than one child at a time. As for the dishes, well  I don't ask Tracey to stop cooking dinner when one of the kids needs help with their homework. Besides, the cutlery is just going to get dirty again at breakfast. 
2. My ability to produce air. Seriously, I don't know where you women keep it - you must burp a lot or something. All I know is if I didn't let it out I'd explode like a baked bean in a microwave. 
3. How her parents put me to sleep. When we take the kids places we do the traditional "Now you kids be on your very best behaviour or there'll be no food for a week and we'll cancel Christmas" pep talk. When we go to my mother-in-laws the pep talk is firmly directed at me. "Don't you fall asleep!"  I've tried everything - throwing back extra strong coffees, sleeping in before I go, sipping on V drinks while I'm there. I've attempted explaining to Tracey I nod off on her parents' lounge because I'm so at ease and it feels like home, but she's not having any of it. "Don't you dare fall asleep or, so help me, I'll wake you with a kick to your groin. I'll do it too. I've got enough kids so I don't need those things anymore." I tend to stand a lot when I'm over there.
4. The way I tidy the house. Tracey can take all day to put the kids' rooms back to rights. I can do it in ten minutes. Okay, so there'll be bits of puzzles missing and dolls clothes they'll never find again, and I'll probably need to make an extra trip to the dump, but at least we'll be able to see the carpet.
5. My parenting. I have a more 'hands off' approach than Tracey. I give my kids permission to hurt themselves whereas around Tracey the kids are more likely to get clipped by the blades of her helicopter. I figure they'll soon learn the definitions of hot, sharp and high. Tracey is the forest ranger who makes sure everyone is sticking to the rules whereas I see myself more as an SES member who sweeps in at the last minute to whisk them to safety. Or the hospital.
6. My shopping skills. You see, Tracey and I have polar views when it comes to essentials. With a flood imminent, I raced to the supermarket to stock up on toilet paper and eggs while they were still available. The trouble is supermarkets have so much nice stuff. Like Bocconcini, which was on special. Then some lemonade - well work was to be cancelled for a few days so I figured we could sip shandies. On a similar theme I added coke, cornchips, salsa, cream and sticky date puddings. And Tim Tams.  I figured the flood was essentially a bonus holiday so we may as well enjoy ourselves. Tracey took one look when I got home and labelled me the worst emergency shopper ever.
7. My driving. I really don't know how I manage to drive anywhere by myself. Tracey takes on the roll of spotter when we're out together. "Truck!" "Bike!" "Lights!" she'll announce as we scoot around town. She has no faith in my abilities. Which is why when I was driving to the shop with a friend from work it was so nice to hear her say how well I managed to maneuver the big beast around the car park. "I do do alright," I thought to myself as I parked. Then backed into the car behind me. "You really botched that," I told my bewildered colleague. "You're supposed to yell Car!"
8. My inability to hear the kids. "Bruce!" Tracey will scream from the other end of the house, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand to attention. "Can you see what's going on?!" I'll look up and there in front of me will be Miss5 and Miss2 embroiled in a battle over a teapot lid, both screaming blue murder and baying for blood. "Hey, hey, hey," I'll say, almost stepping between them, but more accurately just stretching a hand in their direction. "No need for this. Give me that." And then I'll sit on it and go back to my book until Tracey contacts me again. Which, given the girls will now be baying for my blood and trying to dig the lid out from under my bum, will likely be about thirty seconds. 
9. The way I dry myself. Or more specifically, my insistence on using a fresh towel after every shower. I know it's wrong but I don't care. The soft freshly scented material makes me happy. Tracey uses more soaps, scrubs and shampoos than me, so I figure we're about even. And anyway, I more than make up for this small indulgence by managing to dry all five little kids with a single towel - sometimes I even go the extra distance and use the one I dried myself with.
10. My face. When Tracey was pregnant she'd wake up feeling fine. It was only when she looked at me in the morning she'd get morning sickness. She'd glance at me then suddenly freeze, a look of shock and horror on her face, before racing off to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. Seems when she's preggers my face makes her vomit. 

Ten things I never want to do again

1. Date. I hate dating. Mainly because I'm really bad at it. It's genetic though. My father took my mother on a date to watch him play football. Running onto the field for the second half he was waving at her when he tripped over the bloke in front of her and had to be stretchered off the field. That's generally how us Devereaux men win our women over - sympathy. 

2. Ride an Elephant. In Thailand for our honeymoon, I was coerced into riding one because at that stage there was simply nothing I wouldn't do for sex which in hindsight made it kind of counterproductive. I thought I was going to die. We were traversing a river bank and this elephant we were on didn't want to walk down the clay embankment, probably because it was slippery, but the guy in front of us kept prodding it with a stick until it slowly went down. It's alright for the elephant handler, he wasn't tied on so he could jump. I thought we were going to be crushed to death. If Tracey ever insists I ride an elephant for sex again I'm taking my own sharp stick to prod the elephant handler.

3. Chicken feet. I don't want to eat the feet of any critter, be it cows, pigs or Mary's little lamb. But especially those of chickens. It's the little knuckles which put me off. I feel like a survivor from a Himalayan plane crash chewing on the fingers of less fortunate passengers while I wait for rescue.

4. Show rides. I've seen the showies manning the rides. Many of them can't even remember to brush their teeth, let alone remember to put and tighten all the bolts in a ferris wheel or cyclone. And I've seen them roll into town with the rides on the back of trucks - there would be loose and missing nuts. I like the thrill to be 'will I throw up' not 'will I survive'.

5. Learn to drive. It was terrifying. More now that I've been doing it a while and I know how close I came to ending up in hospital. And how often. I remember driving my brother and his mates around town one day when the street in front of me suddenly ended in a wooden barrier. I slammed on the brakes and skidded 180 degrees and then took off back up the street. They all cheered and thought I was really cool but I knew I hadn't planned anything except not dying, and that was only a last minute thing really.

6. Puberty. I went to a boarding school without shower curtains so I've seen  a cockatoo (thank you Austen Tayshus) and if there's one thing I can tell you about puberty it's that it's kinder to some blokes than others and it's hairy. Very, very hairy. Plus it messes with your head. For years I thought I had all the answers - this despite several exams conclusively proving otherwise. I'm at the opposite end of puberty now, where all the hair starts leaving your body. 

7. University. It took me three years to sober up and I still can't drink rum. Needless to say I didn't do especially well, although it says something for my cramming skills that I passed anything at all. To this day I still don't know what subjects I was enrolled in. I recall one subject was music of some sort, which makes perfect sense when you consider I was supposed to be studying economics.

8. Ignore a Sick Child. Miss17 taught me this lesson when she was three. She came into my room saying she felt sick. I dragged her into bed with me and went back to sleep. Five minutes later I woke up choking on her vomit because she'd thrown up directly into my mouth. If your child says they're sick, my advice is to give them the benefit of the doubt, especially if you sleep with your mouth open.

9. Conceive. Is this really too much to ask? Seriously, I think I've done my bit. 

10. Divorce. It's messy and gut-wrenching. And expensive. Why do divorces cost so much? Because they're worth it. Baa-haa. That reminds me, I need to go make Tracey a cup of tea and remind her I think she's beautiful, a goddess and I'm lucky to know her, let alone love her. Yep, that should do it - safe for another day ;)

Ten Things To Remember With Slumber Parties

1. Supervision. Make sure your partner is home and hasn't sneakily organised an extra shift at work or a hen's night. If you're to be alone with a group of six or more kids, forget baking cookies and making fruit cups in the afternoon before they arrive: work on your will. 
2. Emergency Numbers. Always (and I can't stress this enough) grab phone numbers for the parents. Not just a mobile number, those things can be turned off. You want home phone, work phone, Grandma's phone and neighbours phone. If they're going out to dinner to take advantage of a kidless night, you want the restaurant's number as well. For the record, the acceptable list of dialing-inducing-emergencies can stretch to include, in no particular order, vomiting, fever, singing, backchatting and wanting someone to wipe their bottom.
3. Mealtime. When I was a young sprog we ate what was put in front of us. Not anymore. Navigating through one kid's likes and dislikes is hard enough, but organising a meal around a group of fussy eaters is a nightmare. So buy lots and lots of pizza. Everyone likes pizza. It's the food equivalent of Lady Diana. Beauty of pizza for dinner is leftover cold pizza makes a fantastic breakfast alternative, so it's really two birds with one stone. Important to note you should only attempt the pizza breakfast if your wife is sleeping in.
4. Snacks. You will need lots. I recommend an assortment of high sugar sweets, salty crisps and full strength softdrink. But for the love of Pete don't let the kids near any of it or they won't wind down enough to sleep until the following afternoon. Hide the stash in your bedroom and duck in for an energy boost every half hour or so.
5. Board & Card Games. Have a heap of games ready for them to play - Snap, Pairs, Trouble, Battleships, Guess Who, Monopoly - anything to keep the little darlings occupied so they don't annoy you. If they don't like the games you've given them, offer them alternative games. My favourite alternative game is pick up sticks. Then have them pick up the toys. Then pick up the books. Then pick up the clothes. Then pick up the rubbish. You get the idea. So will they.
6. Electronic Games. I'm often amazed at how a group of kids will sit and watch someone else play a Playstation or Xbox game. Boring! But they do, and happily. Lots of g-rated games around to keep them happy. Racing games like Mario Kart are good because more than one or two can play. As a general rule, avoid anything with blood, kill, dead, theft or assassin in the title. And, unless you're deaf, you'll also want to avoid the Singstar games.
7. Neighbours. It's always courteous to let your nearest neighbours know when there will be a night of screaming kids at your house. But I say, bugger them. This is payback for all those teenage parties until two on a Friday night when you were trying to get your baby to sleep. This is revenge for them dragging their wheely bin out past your window at 5am in the morning. This is for when they trimmed your overhanging mango tree and called the dog catcher when Fido went walkabout. Open the windows, turn off the lights and play Murder In The Dark until midnight.
8. Sleeping arrangements. Separating the boys and girls is the least of your worries. Make sure you have enough beds or your kids will share yours and you'll have a night of elbows in your ribs and knees in your back. Shouldn't be a problem though because it's remarkable what kids will accept as a bed. Not only is every sofa or armchair with an ottoman acceptable, a doona spread out on the floor to strategically look bedshaped is also a bed. Ditto for soft towels and thick bedspreads if you're really stuck.
9. Getting them to Sleep. Phenergan works. 
10. Goodbyes. Don't drag the farewells out - you've already done so much and every hour chatting with a kid's parent is an hour their kid could be in the next room trying to shove a slice of pizza into your Blu-Ray player. Make sure that before they leave you let all the parents know all the bad stuff you let their darlings eat so they won't allow their kids stay over again any time soon. Finally, if this was a birthday sleepover put a message in your electronic diary for the same time next year reminding you not to do anything this stupid again.

Ten things I never seem to get to around the house

1. Folding. I am physically incapable of folding. My hands just don't work like that. I have suggested to my wife that we simply purchase each of us an assortment of baskets - eg one each for undies, t-shirts, shorts, uniforms, shoes, etc - and tilt them so I can open the closets and toss them in from a sitting position on the bed, but she told me 'no'. Well, she was sorting clothes at the time so she told me 'no' and 'bugger off' and 'please leave me in peace.'
2. Painting the fence. Although it is one of my least favourite jobs I was keen to paint the fence a dozen months ago but it was too cold. Then we went through a too wet period followed by a too hot period which came right on the heal of a too humid couple of days. I seem to recall a too Christmas in there as well. Right now the weather is too nice for fence painting. Maybe next week.
3. Cleaning out the shed. Now in my defense I have cleaned out the shed on numerous occasions in the past but my wife kept filling it up with more stuff so I've just given up.
4. Connecting the water tank. We purchased a water tank a few years ago when the government had some nice incentives going and I held images of us drinking rainwater and wearing hemp. As the bloke delivered the tank he said before I hook it up I needed to put a load of cracker dust under the tank so the plastic doesn't deteriorate and I thanked him and said I'd get right onto it. And one day I will.
5. Emptying the dishwasher. If I can't see it, it doesn't exist. Not only do I not think about emptying the dishwasher (ever) I also never think to look inside it if I can't find a certain spoon or dish. In my naive, sheltered little Bruceworld the item has simply vanished without a trace and will need to be replaced when next I'm at the shops.
6. Sorting toys. One of my pet hates is toys in the kitchen, whether underfoot or on the benches. If I spot a Little People or Barbie accessory my solution is simple - I throw it in the bin. Much to my childrens' and wife's chargrin this is also my solution to cleaning a bedroom cluttered with discarded toys, so we leave the sorting of toys to Tracey. 
7. Weeding. Tracey thinks I need to weed but I heard someone say once the definition of a weed is any plant growing where you don't want it. By extension this means any plants growing where I do want them aren't weeds. Far as I'm concerned everything green in our yard is exactly where I want it. Problem solved.
8. Painting the ceiling. Our ceiling really does need a coat of something. We painted the one in the kitchen when we renovated that part of the house and it looks fabulous. Trouble is I only remember how much the ceiling in our bedroom needs painting when I lie back on our mattress and see the paint threatening to flutter down into bed with me. But by then it's too late to do anything about it. Of course, if I were allowed more nanna-naps in the afternoons.....
9. Cleaning the toilet. Seriously, it's always fine and rain forest fresh the last time I was in there. Honest.
10. That first dirty nappy in the morning. Try and try and try as I might I just can't seem to beat Tracey to it. Either I'm making a cup of Joe, or I'm still pretending to be asleep, or I just need to duck into the shower, or I thought she wanted you Tracey or I can't even smell it even though you're holding her right in front of my face. Eats me up.

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