Well, things have finally settled down in our household. The twins have gotten over their first birthday, and Lily's just turned six; Tyler's nearing his fourth birthday and Russell and I, we're both aging right alongside all of them. But seriously, things are pretty good and for that, I'm eternally grateful.

Life since both babies have learned to walk has gotten even more interesting. We've all had to become much more vigilant, especially with double the little hands and feet to get into things. But I'm so proud of their development, as I always have been with all of my kids. They're becoming more vocal, too, and as they begin to verbalize their thoughts and feelings I anticipate many more amusing times ahead.

Today I'm passing by Russell's office when out of the corner of my eye I see a flicker of movement. Since he's not in the house, I immediately become suspicious and go in there just in time to see two of those little feet I mentioned disappear beneath the opening under my husband's desk. I peek in there to find my eldest daughter and youngest son huddled and hiding. "What's going on?"

It's not that the children are forbidden, exactly, from going in there, it's just always been tacitly understood that if Daddy's not there, neither are they. There are too many points of interest for small ones, and since this is where he handles business when necessary, and where a lot of the awards and memorabilia from his career are, I'd prefer to keep them out of curious temptation. Just to be on the safe side.

Lil looks very guilty. "I was showin' Jaden Mr. Oscar." 

I sigh. Mr. Oscar, of course, is Russell's highly prized Oscar statuette. For the longest time, this was one of those things that the kids took for granted as another knickknack around the house. Tyler and Lily both understand on a slightly grander scale than before what it is that Daddy Does for a Living. They know he makes movies, and that sometimes, he wins special prizes because people think he is very good in them, and those are what are there along with props and things from various films that he treasures. I do have to admit, it's a pretty remarkable collection. One of the greatest small thrills of my life before we married was the time Russell let me hold his Oscar; even though I didn't earn it myself, I still felt the kind of exciting vibe of actually holding a real one. But as of late, Lily's kind of become obsessed with the thing, and it's all his fault.

It all started a short time ago when the twins and Tyler were all napping; when I was suffering from exhaustion before, this would become their special daddy/daughter time, and even though I'm fine now, they still do this, and I love to let them. Russell has his time with each of the kids, as I do. Since Lily's been in school, often this time has involved them learning about new things and stuff to enrich her education.

This particular time, however, I know Lil was complaining because she wanted her daddy to play Barbies with her. I'm fine with it; I've after all been doing it myself since I was a little girl, but Russell is a whole other story. Anyway, I left to then come back and find them in his office; Lily perched on top of his desk with her prized dolls, and my husband hilariously using his award as the equivalent of Ken. He'd make him talk in all of these funny voices and Lil was absolutely enthralled. By the way, his Screen Actor's Guild award is named Fred, according to my daughter; but he's not as fun to play with because, as she puts it, "He's not shiny and pretty."

Besides Mr. Oscar being a suitable date for Barbie, I think Lily also has become enamored of him because of the fact he IS shiny, pretty and golden, and he looks almost like a scepter. Her life's ambition is still to become a princess; and she views him as her direct link to royalty. Since this single incident, she's begged her dad to bring him out to play again and she even asked if she could keep him in her room. I warned Russell he's created a monster.

"Your Dad's Academy Award is not a plaything," I tell her, thinking to myself how strangely normal, yet bizarre this statement sounded.

Thankfully he's in a curio cabinet with his other awards so he can't be touched. Suddenly I look to see my other two there as well; Tyler with Emmy right on his heels. Since she started to walk she's his faithful companion; and he's very good about letting her follow him around.

"Oscar!" Jaden chirps. Lily looks quite pleased he's mastered that one.

"I like Dad's Gold Earth one better," Tyler pipes up. All four children are gazing at the treasures and wonders as if they were in front of a particularly engaging display at the Smithsonian.

"Golden Globe," I correct. "And, Daddy's Golden Globe is not a toy, either." God, that just sounds so weird. 

"What," comes a familiar deep voice from behind me, "are all of you doing?"

I turn to see him standing there looking at us with a mixture of puzzlement and amusement. In this house, one has to ask, because one never knows exactly WHAT might be going on. "We're admiring your awards, honey," I tell him.

He scoops Jaden out from under his desk with one hand and neatly draws Lil to her feet with the other. "Mr. Oscar's not coming out to play, angel," he tells her.

She heaves a hefty sigh. Then, to change the subject at being caught peeking around her dad's office, she asks, "Why is Fred naked?"

After our fairly recent talk about the facts of life, I certainly don't want to revisit this again. "Out. Now. Let's go," I say firmly, and they're all traipsing out in front of us.

I give my husband one of my infamous Looks, you know, my equivalent of his own Maximus Expression. He meekly closes the door and follows behind, too.

Later on, he decides to disprove The Mystique of Oscar by bringing him out for all of our children to examine. I have my misgivings about this; I think it's only going to fascinate and compel them even more to find Mr. Oscar attractive; but Russell seems to think once they see him up close, the kids will get over their intrigue.

For the most part, Russell doesn't like to flaunt his awards; that's why they're ensconced in his office instead of displayed about the rest of the house. His office=work; that's as far as it goes. If we have visitors, and they're interested in seeing them, then he'll show them round; but it's not like he goes, "Hey, want to see my Oscar?" As far as our children are concerned, he's simply Dad, and that's how he wants them to think of him. We try, so hard, to keep his celebrity out of our personal family life, unless it can't be helped, and we've then made sure they understand this is not reality and not the norm.

"Is he real gold, Daddy?" Tyler wants to know. Lily is still gazing at him with a slight covetous look. 

"He's gold on the outside, but not straight through, I think," his dad explains. Jaden goes to touch it, attracted by the shiny brightness. I quickly grab his grubby hands and wipe them off before he's allowed to have a go. He finds it's too heavy to lift and merely settles for wrapping his fists around Mr. Oscar's legs.

"Nice man," Emily says, which makes me smile.

"It has your name on it." Lil's just starting to learn to read; but she's been writing her name for some time now and she recognizes her dad's inscribed on the base. "What did you get this for?"

"'Cause he's the bestest actor in the whole wide world," Tyler pipes up. I can personally think of at least five other movies he either should have been nominated for or outright won; of course, I'm utterly biased, but there you are. However, I sit there silently, letting my husband have the spotlight, since he handles it so much better than I do.

"Gladiator," Daddy explains. He ruffles Tyler's hair at his comment and grins.

"That's the tiger movie, right?" she asks. Neither Russell nor I ever sit and watch his movies for entertainment, and we've not let any of them be seen by the children, primarily because he hasn't really made child-friendly films. He'd like to someday, at least once, now that we have four of our own, but I believe The Silver Brumby is the only movie her dad has made that Lily has seen. Tyler hasn't really watched anything simply because for the longest time, he had a difficult time reconciling Dad playing someone else in his head. Still, she's aware of a couple of things he's done even though she hasn't seen them: The Tiger Movie and The Boat Movie, which is what she calls Master and Commander. "Yes," Russell tells her.

"He got it 'cause he almost got ATE by a tiger," Tyler reminds her. One time, while flipping channels, Tyler found some biographical program about Russell, and stopped to watch, mostly because it was his Dad. He was only about two or so at the time, so of course, he had no concept of what they were talking about, he only saw Daddy and wanted to watch him on TV. Anyway, they showed that clip, and the next thing we knew, we heard him crying and screaming hysterically. He really thought his dad was in serious danger. It probably took us at least ten minutes to calm him down, and even when Russell showed him that clearly he was alive and still in one intact piece, he had a hard time being consoled. Now, he understands it was acting, but he's always still thought that his father only survived by sheer luck.

"I'd like to think," his dad tells him, "that I got it for just a bit more than that." 

"Well, I think he's beautiful," Lily says wistfully. His idea that this will destroy her illusions of grandeur is clearly not working. I give him another Infamous Mum Look.

"So you see, kids," Russell goes on, acting as if he hadn't noticed my expression, "there's nothing magical or special about Mr. Oscar at all. I mean, I reckon it's mighty special to me, because I won it, but he's just a figure that simply sits there, right? He doesn't do anything fancy. Besides, since then, other blokes have won one, too." I resist again the urge to point out the number of times I feel he was rooked out of having a matched set and look at the children trying to gauge their reaction. I think Tyler is still impressed his dad risked life and cinematic limb to win that year; Emily looks on it merely as something pretty, like my earrings or the metal fastener on her overalls. What concerns me are the other two. Jaden's still got a grip on it; with his fascination of examining things he reminds me of a real crow, not our little baby Crowe, attracted to bright bits and baubles to line a nest or something. And, of course, there's Lily, who is actually caressing Mr. Oscar with that admiring look on her small face.

I sigh. My husband fixes me with that 'I think that went well' look and I roll my eyes heavenward in return. The man is a bloody brilliant actor, he's a wonderful musician, God knows he's a superb husband and father, but, you know, sometimes, he hasn't got a clue.

"If there was an award for obtuseness," I tell Russell, as we're back in his office replacing Mr. Oscar, the kids off to the playroom to find their own special toys, "you'd certainly get my vote."

He looks at me as he carefully places it back where it belongs and closes the curio. "I love you, too." 

"Don't come to me when it ends up missing, you know, or his head comes off, or there's a huge dent in the side of the thing. Don't say I didn't warn you. And don't say that I, at least, didn't see it coming." I cross my arms and give him the evil eye back. "When it happens, go talk to your daughter."

"She's fine, Liss. She's over it by now." 

"Over it by now!" I throw my hands up at his ignorance. "She wants that sucker, Russell, so much so that I know she's already thinking and plotting, and anything I say or do is not going to help, until it happens. And if it won't be just her, your baby son will be involved right alongside her, mark my words."

"Liss, I don't feel we need to go around locking things up. We've always trusted that they know right from wrong, and that we've taught them well enough what they can and can't get into. It'll be fine. And why," he wants to know, "when they're into mischief, are they suddenly just my children and not yours?"

"That's the way it works." Shaking my head, I reach and give him an affectionate kiss. "Haven't you figured it out by now?"

Oh, he's convinced all is well. But I tell you, my Mum instinct has never steered me wrong in the past, and I don't think it will now. Trouble's a brewin'.

Since it's Russell's office, and his Oscar, and he seems to think there's no reason for concern, I can't very well go about myself locking things up. I'd like to think, too, that our children are quite well-behaved, and that they definitely know what is right and what is wrong. Lily's always been my dependable, trustworthy child, wise beyond her years, and I do realize that any folly where Mr. Oscar is concerned will, for the most part, be with the best of intentions on her part, I'm sure. It's just that I understand how tempting certain things can be when you're a child and the more I observe her around the shiny golden statuette the more I can see her struggle with that temptation. And she's leading her baby brother into taking a bite of the forbidden apple right alongside her. It's also not that I doubt my husband's acting ability or that I don't think he'll win another some day, it's just that I know how much this one means to him and I would hate to see anything bad befall his prized possession, well-intentioned or not.

So, off handedly one day, I say conversationally to her, "Muffin, I think it'd be best if you and the other kids stay out of Daddy's office from here on out."

She gives me a somewhat startled look as if I read her mind. Then she looks resigned. "Okay, Mum," she tells me. 

I nod, satisfied. But somehow a tiny niggling voice deep within my brain tells me that this truly isn't the last of this. Somehow, I can sense it.

The last time I phoned my mother back in the States, I told her about Lil's fascination with her father's award. My mom, bless her heart, then went out to a party goods store and bought Lily her own tiny Oscar replica, you know, those fairly cheap ones with the shiny, almost foil-like patina that you buy as décor for your Oscar parties or whatnot? It's about half the size of her dad's. Lily's thrilled to finally have her own award, but to her, it's still not as wondrous and beautiful as the one in her dad's study. However, she carefully arranges it on a shelf in her bedroom; except for the times she lets Jaden hold it, his attraction to Mr. Oscar and Mr. Oscar Jr. almost matching hers. He carries it almost like he does his stuffed bear; I wonder if I should ask Mom to get him one as well but at the same time wonder what kind of subliminal message this is sending to him. Does he need awards to be happy? Should his success in life be measured by material reward? Russell tells me I'm reading more into it than is necessary; he just finds the damn thing shiny and nifty, he says, and this is not going to turn our children into egomaniacs. Tyler and Emily couldn't really care less; they're more concerned with their own toys than any of their dad's.

When I was younger, and I dreamed of being a mum, I envisioned pretty mundane occurrences in my life, frankly. Things like carpools and bag lunches, dance class and soccer practice...nothing like trying to keep my daughter's interest diverted from her father's Academy Award, say, or who will be able to watch my children if I choose to accompany my husband to lunch with Ron Howard in Sydney. You know, stuff the average celebrity wife and mother faces every day. Right alongside of what to do creatively with two pounds of chicken for supper, I'm sitting there trying to figure out ways to keep my two little girls from going into my closet and playing with my Vera Wang dresses and Manolo Blahnik shoes. I'm sure every housewife in suburbia faces THAT dilemma. :)

I guess it's this EveryWoman/Not EveryWoman quality of mine that constitutes the phone call. Russell always jokes that because of who he is, the two of us could go on a mountain trek in the Himalayas and his agent or someone connected with his 'day job' would still manage to track us down. Today is no exception, but he has a strange look on his face as he hands the phone to me. "It's for you."

"Me?" The last time this happened, I got thrust into the spotlight on Australian national television. That was where I discovered that, unlike my husband, I'm not really good at being a celebrity of sorts. I was absolutely sick to my stomach at having all the attention focused on me. So, very warily, I say, "Hello?"

"Mrs. Crowe? I'm Peter Jorgensen, producer of the Today program. Perhaps you remember me? We met when you appeared on our show a few months back."

"Yes..." Russell lifts a brow quizzically and I half shrug. 

"We have a proposal we'd like to make to you..." before he gets any further, I feel that familiar sort of panic and say, "Excuse me, Mr. Jorgensen, but my husband's right here, and I'd feel better if I could put this call on speakerphone so he can hear this as well. If you don't mind."

"Certainly not." I do so then and continue, "Please, go on."

"Thank you. Well, as I was saying, we have a proposition of sorts..."

Russell, the smart-ass as usual, breaks in, "Only I get to proposition my own wife, mate, thank you very much." 

There's this moment of dead silence as I picture this producer sweating bullets at the fact he's potentially pissed off my husband. I give Russ a Look and then laugh, to let poor Mr. Jorgensen know it was a joke. After a moment, he chimes in, albeit a bit nervously. "Anyway...where was I? Oh, yes. The interview we did with you was one of the highest rated segments that month, and certainly the most watched of that show, and that week, for that matter. It seems people have an insatiable sort of curiosity about you and your family life."

Beside me, Russell mutters something unintelligible but I'm sure not very nice. 'Insatiable curiosity' only keeps him in good humor so far. I elbow him and say, even more suspiciously, "Really?"

"Yes. And now, with...um...Russell's...Mr. Crowe's...misfortune...in America behind him, and your children growing, we'd like to do a follow up of sorts with you, to see how things have been for all of you."

Russell...Mr. Crowe...has this mix of dumbfounded thunderstruck incredulity on his face. I'm sure mine is dismay mingled with surprise. "You want to interview me...again?" I ask, not sure I'm hearing correctly.

"You were a wonderful interview. We got a lot of viewer comment on how approachable and likeable you seemed, and most importantly, how like the regular suburban wife and mother you came across." I resist ticking off points once again on how irregular things get around here, because, quite honestly, this rather pleases me.

"She's anything but ordinary," Russ growls out. I'm sure this poor man is wondering if next time he sees my husband in person, he isn't going to deck him one. "Err...of course not...we definitely agree there...she's extraordinary, and that's why we'd like to talk with her again."

I really give Russell the evil eye now. "Do you mind if I put you on hold for just a moment while we discuss this?" I ask sweetly. When he gives the assent, I hit the button and glare at him. "Would you just calm down?"

"I'm not upset, Lissy." He sighs. "I just don't see why you'd want to put yourself through all this again."

"You do it all the time."

"I'm not saying it's one of my favorite things to do, but I'm used to it. You almost passed out the last time you did this." 

I get this look of awareness on my face. "You're jealous!"

"No, I'm not!" We're standing toe-to-toe arguing this out, which, to the casual observer, would look quite funny, since I'm almost a foot shorter than him without heels on. But I can match him in stubbornness and drive. "You're letting all of this go straight to your head, is what you're doing," he accuses.

"I have no desire to be a celebrity!" I say.

"Then why the fuck do you want to do this so badly?" he asks.

"Because maybe I can make a difference! Maybe, if people see how, quote, 'normal' we are, unquote, when we go out and do simple things like take the children to the park, people won't stare and act like we're an anomaly! Maybe then people would see that yes, you are really a human being, with real human thought processes and emotions."

He leans over me so our foreheads are almost touching. His expression is very, very tender all of a sudden. "Don't do this for me, or for the kids," he tells me. "Do it for yourself, if that's what you want to do."

I nod.

"I want to talk about this a little more, when you're done here." He kisses my cheek. "Want me to leave while you negotiate?"

I shake my head. With him still standing so close to me, I punch the button and bring the producer back on the line. "When would it be?"

He names a date a few days from now. I shake my head. "Can't it be a ways out?"

"I'm sorry, but the network wants to move ahead with this and they want it fairly shortly. Would you be able to come to Sydney and do it live again?"

There is one thing about this entire...event...that I won't compromise. "I'll do it," I say firmly, "on one condition. You're going to have to come here. I won't go to Sydney, even for a day, not right now. My oldest child is in school, and both my husband and I have told her that we would be here to take her and bring her home. One or the other of us, anyway. My twins have just turned one, and they need me...plus my middle son has been having a difficult time recently, and I won't leave him at this time."

I expect him to readily decline, but without missing a beat, he says, "Done. We'll call back with the arrangements to do a remote from your home there, then." And before I know it, I've committed to another interview and the conversation is over.

I let out a breath and look at Russell. He's grinning and he holds me close. "I'm proud of you, baby," he tells me. 

I just hope, once again, I neither puke nor pass out on live television.

Talk about committed. I really SHOULD be committed, to a mental ward, for agreeing to do this. I can't even really explain my total motivation for it, other than I feel compelled to do so.

I know Russell wants to delve deeper into this. As soon as I hang up with Mr. Jorgensen, I can tell my earlier comments have intrigued him. Besides, I know him too well to know that after that, he wants to pick my brain, so to speak.

"Wanna talk about all of this?" he asks. 

"I get the feeling you do," I counter. 

He gives me one of his infamous expressions. "Liss, do you feel you need to prove something about us to all of these people?" he asks. His tone is not argumentative, but one of curiosity. "'Cause it's really none of their fucking business, truth be told."

I know it's not. And I know it's this losing battle, really, trying to show people that he's this honestly real person, that he can be hurt and he can love just as deeply as anyone else. People are going to believe what they want to believe regardless. As if he read my mind (and often over the years, I've wondered if we both haven't honed this skill with one another), he says, "We know what's real, and I've always told you that's all that matters."

"I know." 

"I reckon I'm just trying to figure out why you're putting yourself through something you so obviously loathe." He fixes me with one of his looks that goes straight through into my soul. "Are you trying to prove something to yourself, sweetheart?"

"Like what?" But now I'm beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable. 

"I don't know. You tell me. That maybe you're more than just the kids' mum or my wife. You are, you know. You're your own person with your own talents, and thoughts. And I was wondering if you felt you needed to show that to the world, as well as reinforce that in your own mind. Because if that's why, then you're doing this for all the wrong reasons. If you feel this way, I'd rather you came to me, rather than going on national telly to try to prove it." He looks concerned. "DO you feel that way?"

"Yes...no. Sometimes. I don't really know." I think, deep down, this does have something to do with it, but it's also so much more than that. It's everything all rolled into one.  I try to explain. "I KNOW I'm more than the kids' mum, or your wife, but then, too, I'm most content being that, do you know what I mean? And I honestly don't wish for anything more, or anything different. I know I'm blessed, and I know I have more already than some people get in a whole lifetime. But sometimes, it's hard, because I feel I want to be so much more than what I am, and then I feel guilty I even think that way."

I'm thinking he really IS going to have me committed. But he's looking at me with perfect understanding. "I feel that way all the time, Liss." 

I must look incredibly disbelieving because he explains, "It IS fucking hard, you know. Between the day job, and the music, and you and the kids...sometimes I feel like things are pulling me in five different directions, or more. But I've never been happier. And sometimes, that's all that really counts."

I have to agree with him there. 

"Besides," he tells me, "I figure that if we didn't want to be more, do more, then we wouldn't truly be human. And I think everyone out there can relate to that one."

I have to agree again.

"So, if you're doing this for you, for all the right reasons, then I'm behind you all the way." He kisses me. "You know how I feel about the other."

I do. And don't think he wouldn't tell me otherwise. 

"I do want to do this for me," I say to him. "Despite the fact it makes me want to break out in hives, I do want to. I guess I really do want people to know what we're really about, even though I also know it doesn't really matter. If I can be the best person I can be to myself, and do my best with you and the kids, then I'm happy, too." I ask him, "Am I making any sort of sense to you at all?"

"Absolutely." He kisses me again, and I know he's not telling me this simply to pacify me. 

When we tell the children that Mommy's going to be on television again, and this time the crew is going to come to the house, they're excited, but Lily and Tyler are understandably puzzled, knowing as they do how much I don't crave the spotlight.

"But Mama," Lil points out, "you said you didn't want to be a star." 

"Mum's proud of us," Russell explains, "and she wants to let everyone know that. So, even though she doesn't like to be a star, she's going to do this again. And we know she's going to be great, and fine, and she's gonna shine, right?"

"She's gonna shine like a star," Tyler, ever the practical thinker, points out, "even though she doesn't want to really BE one, huh, Daddy?"

"Yep." 

"Do we get to be on TV too this time, Mommy?" he wants to know. 

"I'd rather you didn't," I tell him. We're both highly protective of the children; of course there are the inevitable paparazzi photos when we go out in public with them, but I think we've done a good job of keeping them out of the spotlight a great deal of the time. Russell, especially, is not one for parading them on purpose out on display, as he calls it, and I agree with him there. He chose his career, I chose him, but the kids didn't choose either of us, is how we look at it, so it's not fair to penalize them for his celebrity.

All of a sudden, Russell asks me, "When was all this going to happen again?"

I tell him. He gets a look on his face. "I'm supposed to be in Sydney myself, that day," he tells me. "Remember? I had a business meeting that morning."

I'd almost forgotten; it wasn't a major deal, because he's planning on leaving the day before and then coming home that day, we'd be without him overnight only, and things would be fine. They still will be, I'm sure. "It's okay," I tell him. "Nana and Papa will come over, as always, and help with the kids. Besides, it's what? A ten minute interview, at most. They can behave for that long."

"You don't want to miss seein' Mum!" Lil is concerned. 

"I'll be able to see her," her dad reassures. "I'll have to hurry to make the meeting, but I'll watch, I promise. Then, I'll be home straightaway, and be back before dinnertime."

"Promise?" Lil still looks worried and Tyler is adamant. "For sure, Dad?"

"For sure," he solemnly tells them. He smiles at me. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." I think what he means is he wants to be able to witness it firsthand if I faint or otherwise potentially embarrass myself. But he leans over and kisses me and I can tell from the look in his eyes how incredibly proud he is of me for tackling this again.

Later on, he asks me, "Are you absolutely sure you're okay with me not being here when you do your interview? I can see if we can change the meeting, you know."

"No, definitely...you go, you won't be gone for long, and I can manage. I hate to inconvenience anyone by having you move your meeting just to accommodate me. I suppose, if I completely insisted, and they still wanted me badly enough, they could change their schedule, too, but that'd be inconveniencing them, as well, and I don't want to do that, either."

He shakes his head. "When am I going to teach you to worry about yourself, too?"

I kiss him. "We've been together for this long...probably never." I explain, "Besides, you weren't taking me along to begin with...what's the difference about leaving me here with the kids by myself or leaving me here with the kids and a camera crew?"

Giving me his Maximus Look, he explains, "Somehow, I just have a weird gut feeling about how all of this is going to turn out." 

I'm admittedly kind of nervous about not having him physically be there to support me, but I don't want him to stay because I have wonky nerves. I tease him, "Oh, so you can't see that Mr. Oscar is in imminent danger, but you have a feeling about my interview?"

We laugh but I can tell he's still got this sensation he can't shake off. I hope he's wrong; though he'd probably never admit it, it wouldn't be the first time. Please, God, let this work out all right. I might become a recluse from society if it doesn't.

The producers have called to make arrangements; a small crew is going to fly up the day before; we offered, cursorily, to let them stay at the farm, but they declined. They will be there early that morning to get set up; thankfully, they scheduled my interview somewhat late in the program so we're not getting up at the crack of dawn to accommodate them. There won't be much to set up, anyway; just me, sitting there, getting interviewed by remote. We decided on the main area of the house, the great room, to allow space for them and for it to not intrude so much on the rest of the family. Especially the kids; much as Tyler would love to be on television, neither Russ nor I want them there underfoot. We've told them they can watch as it happens in one of the other rooms of the house. Russell will be watching from our apartment in Sydney before heading off to his business meeting, and then, back home to us.

He hasn't mentioned his 'weird gut feeling' again, and I hope it's passed, because the thought of anything going awry is enough to make me want to hurl, seriously. I could cancel, but it's that tendency of mine to always put myself practically last that prevents me from doing so. I know Russell wishes I'd stop doing that, but I can't help it. I was this way long before I met him and even going on ten years of marriage isn't going to help this leopard change her spots now.

When Russell leaves for Sydney, I feel suddenly quite bereft. I'm glad I stuck to my guns and decided to stay here and do the interview; but at the same time, I always feel slightly lost without him. I don't mean it to sound like I'm totally dependent on my husband, because I really don't feel that I am; it's just that he has such a strong presence that when he's not around, you definitely notice it. 

The kids are also conscious of their dad's absence, although they tend not to notice so much anymore. They have a unique situation in that he's around a great deal of the time, more than if he worked a regular 9 to 5 job, and then when he is gone, it's usually not for long. They're used to it, anyway.

The morning of my interview, we're all up early; me, obviously, as the interviewee, and then Lil and Tyler because they're excited. The twins are somehow always connected to the older two, and while I would have preferred they both stayed asleep until all the excitement is over, they woke up as well. I've got all of us dressed and looking presentable, and I'm feeling pretty good that this will be just fine. Following much personal debate, I decided to take a more casual route than my last interview; after all, this is in my home, and I don't want it to look like I go about my normal day in a suit and heels. I chose a nice blouse and jeans, my hair pulled back into a ponytail. I'm supposed to be representative of the suburban housewife and mum the entire country views me as, you know.

'My' crew consists of a cameraman, a sound man, a makeup/hair woman, and the field producer, and that's it. I show them to where we plan to have them set up, while I try to keep my children from driving them and me crazy. My sons, especially, are fascinated by the camera and the lights, all the equipment, and I think that out of all of them, Tyler would probably be my born entertainer while Jaden would be one of the technical staff. Lily is somewhat shy and generally shuns the spotlight (kind of like her mother) and I haven't quite got Emily pegged just yet, although she's sweet and friendly and would probably make a rather congenial hostess. Already, she's sitting there showing the makeup lady her doll.

I'm shepherding the kids towards their playroom, getting ready for their grandparents to arrive, when the phone rings. It's Dad, and this is the first possible sign of Russell's earlier 'weird gut feeling'. "Nana's still not feeling well," he tells me, "and she doesn't want to make the children sick." Jocelyn has been fighting a cold for a couple of days. "I can come over and watch them, though, if..."

"It'll just be a brief little interview, Dad," I reassure him. "The kids can handle themselves for a few moments. Stay with her, and I'll talk to you both later." Not that I don't trust my father-in-law's parenting or grandparenting skills, he DID raise my temperamental husband and my brother-in-law, after all, but to ask him to take on all four of my brood without backup reinforcement is asking too much, I think.

"Change of plans," I tell Lil and Tyler, heading them in the direction of the den instead. "Nana's sick, so Papa's going to stay with her. I need the two of you to be real good and look after the twins while I'm doing my interview, do you think you can do that?"

"No worries, Mommy," Tyler pipes up, making me smile. All four children are holding hands, the twins in between the older two, and they look so adorable.

"We'll be good, Mum," Lily promises.

"I'm glad," I tell them. "Now, I'm going to go upstairs and get some toys, and I'll turn the TV on, so you can watch. Try to stay in here until I get through, and come get you. Make sure you keep the babies out of things they're not supposed to get into, all right?"

"Yes," they chorus. I give each of them a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you," my little angels respond back. Even the babies attempt to tell me, in their own way. Satisfied they're going to be fine, trying to ignore the small whispering niggling mum instinct that's directing my thoughts otherwise; I leave them there and go to get them things to settle them while I make my third television appearance in months. Once more, I question my sanity at taking all this on while wondering to myself if my misgivings and my husband's don't possibly have some merit. I also wonder if he's still not feeling this, where he is. Then I firmly tell myself there's no time to dwell on this, tamp it down ruthlessly, and go on about my business.

Once I have the kids all situated, the babies happy with their toys and Lily and Tyler happily watching television, anticipating my big debut, I go back to get ready. I'm going to be interviewed again by the same lady, Meagan, as before. Since this is not brand new to me (but not entirely comfortable, either, I'll tell you), I'm a bit more relaxed than the last time but I can't shake my feeling that leaving all four children to fend for themselves, even for just a brief while, is not a good idea. Both Tyler and Lil have proven themselves to be very responsible, though, especially in helping me with the twins, and I really don't know why I'd feel this way. I just know I'd feel much better if Mum, Dad, or Russell were here to keep an eye out on things. It's only going to be no more overall than about twenty or thirty minutes, tops, that I will be unavailable, I remind myself. How much trouble can my children get into in that short of a time, anyhow?

It's a lot different being interviewed in the comfort of my own home rather than the stark contrast of a huge studio, as well. I think that's helping a bit in alleviating my feelings of dread. I'm in a cozy chair that I actually picked out with my husband, in familiar surroundings, with very few people standing around watching me. I can put it out of my head that there is an untold amount of people actually watching me, all over Australia, because I can't see all of them staring back at me, so I'm okay with that. If I think about THAT too much, I'll be violently ill. Ironically, as they get me to do the familiar 'teaser', where Meagan tells everyone that I'm coming up next and I just sit there smiling idiotically, the people whose presences I DO feel aren't even there with me. I can feel Dad and Mum, the kids, and even Russell supporting me and that makes me feel much better.

However, as the field producer counts down the time that I will be going live to television sets everywhere, I have to fight my usual irrational fear and intense nausea I always feel. Nervously twisting my wedding ring around and around my left hand, willing myself to absorb the good vibes I'm sure I know my husband is sending my way from afar, I can practically feel the intensity of his gaze, watching me at the apartment in Sydney. I close my eyes and open them in barely enough time to see the green light go on over the camera. I take a deep breath and smile at Meagan in the monitor just slightly to one side of it; trying not to look at the other monitor where my own pale face is.

"Welcome, if you're just joining us, the time is just after eight forty five am," Meagan says. "We have a real treat for you today. Perhaps you remember a few months ago, when Lisa Crowe, wife of Russell, was our Today's Australian Woman. We had such tremendous response from all of you, wanting to know more about this fascinating woman and her special family, so we've brought her back for a follow up! She's joining us live from the Crowe farm in Nana Glen...how are you today, Lisa?"

"I'm fine, Meagan, and I'm happy to be returning on your show," I say. Never let it be said Russell hasn't taught me a thing or two in dealing with the media.

"It's lovely to have you here. How have things been with you? Russell's had that business in the States settled, I understand he's busy with his music and possibly finding another film project...but how are you and the children?"

"We've been doing great. Lily's in school now, and is loving it immensely...Tyler is still my irrepressible son, and the twins have just turned one and have been walking. Things are their usual somewhat crazy self," I tell her. If all of Australia only knew. I can tell you, Russell's 'image' for sure would be shattered forever.

"So, all is well." I do like Meagan, Meagan Hollister, her name is. I imagine in another life, where my husband and I didn't dislike the media so much, we might even be good mates. I don't hold her reporter status against her, however. :) "Everything is wonderful," I say, honestly.

"It sounds like you've been busy as well. I know the last time we talked; things were still a bit uncertain. I'm glad that everything turned out all right."

"Thank you for that." It's incredibly heartfelt. Realizing an appropriate forum when I see it, I add, "And, I'd like to personally thank everyone who offered support to Russell, as well as our family, over the last little while. It was greatly appreciated, and it came at a time when we certainly needed it. We're so grateful to you all."

"Russell's a great asset to our country." I find it funny, however, that both Australia and New Zealand claim my husband when it's beneficial to them. If he does something a bit questionable, both countries then label him as belonging to the opposite one. I do have to say, though, that Australia as a whole is more supportive overall than the United States, but it's just something I'll never understand or be able to fix.

"I also have to tell the viewers at home that the reason you're not in studio with us is that you didn't want to leave the kids behind," she goes on. "I find that very refreshing, and admirable, for a celebrity mum."

I've never understood why people find it so fascinating that I love caring for my children myself, me and Russell both. Why wouldn't I, I wonder. "I'm not a celebrity," I protest. "Russell's the one in the family, and I'm content to leave it that way. But, my family is my top priority, and I've always been a firm believer in following my heart." Good interview answer, I think to myself. Maybe I'm not as bad at this as I might think.

"You're also a rare sort, in that you haven't decided to hire a nanny to look after your children," she continues. "Why is that?"

Now, this is one I can readily answer, because we've personally debated this so many times, especially since the twins were on the way. "Well, it's just not something I've ever seriously considered," I say truthfully. "I'm sure that eventually it will be more of a possibility, because we would plan on bringing the children along on location while Russell films a movie, and it will be a bit more difficult then. But, I've always looked forward to being a mother. It's what I've wanted for a long time, and now that I have my kids, I just couldn't imagine anyone but me taking care of them. We have a very close-knit, wonderful family, and they've always stepped in to help when it's been needed, but both of us, Russell and I, have always been the primary caregivers for them and we wouldn't imagine that any other way. I would like to think that things are no different for the children as far as their care is concerned than it would be if we were a regular working-class couple. I understand that of course, there are some things about their lives that ARE a bit different, but we've always tried to provide them with a stable, secure environment, and let them be kids. They have no real concept of any of the rest of that, and I have to say, it's a point of pride for us as parents, frankly."

"From what I've seen, they all appear to be wonderful, caring children," she praises.

"Thank you." As I've mentioned countless times before, I love getting compliments on them. "They really are rather well-behaved..."

As if on some kind of demented cue, Tyler chooses this exact moment to come bursting into the room. Heedless of the wires and equipment all over, not to mention the fact that this is going out live even as we speak, he exclaims breathlessly, "Mommy! Lil went in Daddy's office, an' she and Jaden..."

Trying not to even consider what could be befalling Mr. Oscar right this moment, I decide to concentrate on the problem immediately at hand, which is my son barging in on this interview. I look closer, and sure enough, Emmy is predictably coming in, too, following on the heels of her adored older brother as usual. "Sweetie," I say, trying to be as discreet as possible, which is virtually IMpossible at this point in time, "Mommy's talking to this nice lady. Can you sit down with your sister and wait until we're done, please?"

He suddenly remembers what this is all about and spies Meagan on the monitor. "Hi, nice lady!" he says exuberantly. "Can you see me?"

"I can," she tells him, looking extremely amused at this latest turn of events. "You must be Tyler." 

"How do you know my name?" he asks. She looks absolutely charmed by my son. The Crowe Charisma at work. His dad has it in spades, and apparently, he does too. "Because your mum was talking about you just now."

"She was?" He's pleased with this. "This is Emmy," he introduces his sister. Emily smiles, says 'hi', but has a small somewhat quizzical expression, as if she can't figure out how this nice lady got into the box. Then, he's aware that he is indeed interrupting my interview, and sits on the floor close by, pulling Emmy down with him.

"They're lovely, Lisa!" Meagan exclaims. The cameraman is even charmed by them, because when I glance at the monitor, I can see he's still focused on them rather than me. Tyler can see himself on it and he's busy trying to show his best self; he's hamming it up for all it's worth, smiling and posing. I don't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes. When he brings the camera in close to Emily, she tries to peer into it, as if to discover the secret of the lady in the box. All the viewers at home are seeing are her hugely magnified eye, and then, one finger poking at the lens. I can only imagine what Russell is thinking watching this; I wonder if he's busting up laughing or if he's angry they're being paraded out on television. Against my own will, I want it noted for the record.

Just when my worried mind goes back to my other two, I first hear rather upset bellowing, and then, here they come as well, as if my interview hadn't already gone down the tubes at this point. Lily's lugging her little brother, her hands wrapped around Jaden's middle, under his arms. He's wriggling, kicking, yelling and bawling all at once, and I'm amazed at Lil's sheer force of will that's allowing her to keep hold of him. I've tried hanging on to him when he's pitching a fit, and it's like attempting to carry a small greased piglet.

"He...won't...be...good, Mama!" she gasps, thrusting my squalling child at me. "Here...YOU take him!"

I instinctively do so, trying to shush him before he deafens the entire viewing population with his tantrum. She's still standing there, so I hiss, "Muffin..." and gesture in the direction of the camera. She takes one look, lets out a dismayed squeak, and ducks out of view, scampering for cover. No dreams of fame for her, I'm afraid.

Everyone in the room, including Meagan on the monitor in the Sydney studio, looks utterly fascinated at how this is all turning out. "Oh..." she coos. "There's the rest of your children!" Once again, I have to wonder what Russell is thinking as all of this plays out live in front of the entire continent.

My first instinct is to calm my son down, which is rapidly turning into an attempt to calm both twins down, because Emily, proud of her newfound vocal skills, is scolding him. She's chanting, "No, Jay...no, Jay! NO, JAY!" over and over, getting louder, trying to talk over him. Tyler thankfully helps me by getting her to mellow out, and I finally get Jaden's crying down to a minimum, even though he's still sobbing something that sounds like "Oscar..." repeatedly.

"They're so sweet!" Meagan reiterates. I don't know how 'sweet' one can call them at this moment, especially Jaden with his face red from crying and a runny nose, but it's all in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. "Did he say he wants Oscar?"

"Yes, well, he's one of his toys..." I try to explain, making him sound like his bear or something like that. I don't want to go into this whole sordid true tale on national telly. "He's, um, grown quite attached..."

Loudly, as if to dispute my white lie, he shrieks clearly and distinctly, "WANT DAD'S OSCAR!!!" I am SO glad my youngest two have finally gotten a grasp on their communication ability at this very moment, thank you.

Prompted by this, a small hand pops in from just outside camera range and Lily hands him her small statuette. He happily hugs it to his chest, finally contented.  I cannot possibly begin to imagine what everyone watching must be thinking right about now, seeing my infant son needing an award to pacify him. I do know that the entire crew here and even Meagan by remote have sort of fallen into this state of stunned momentary silence.

"Well, that's certainly an interesting toy," she finally says. 

"I...he..." I don't even know how to explain this one, or if I even want to try. I'm sure that all over, housewives are sipping their tea or coffee, shaking their heads, and thinking just when they were beginning to like me...I'm also sure that they're all wondering now why I definitely DON'T hire a nanny, as I so obviously could use and desperately need the help. I also wonder who's pitching the bigger fit, Mum and Dad watching at their house, or Russell in Sydney. Any guesses?

"I reckon, though, it's appropriate, since his Dad has one of his own," she continues. "Maybe you have another budding actor in the family?"

"I don't think so," I stammer. "One's enough for me." Although I can see out of the corner of my eye Tyler's trying to get the cameraman's attention again to get on TV some more.

"They're such gorgeous kids, Lisa," she emphasizes. "I'm sure you must be quite proud of them." Not at this moment in time, frankly. "You're looking like you might be a bit...busy...so we'll let you go, but we hope this won't be the last we hear from you."

"Err...yes...thanks, so much, Meagan." The green light goes out and it's blessedly over. I let out this huge sigh; Tyler looks disappointed he didn't have another shot at stardom; Emily's happy renewing her budding relationship with the makeup lady, who thinks she's just a living doll, Jaden is fine holding Mr. Oscar Jr., and Lily suddenly looks like she knows she's in an immense amount of trouble. She won't quite meet my gaze.

"That was terrific!" the field producer says. I'm wondering exactly what it was he witnessed, because it sure as hell can't be what I just was a part of. 'Terrific' is NOT the first word, or the second, or the third...that comes to mind. "The kids are cute...the entire country is probably enchanted right now!"

Sure...enchanted...speaking of which, I wish that I'd wake up and find this was all some kind of crazy insane mental version of a fairy tale. I lift Jaden off my lap and can't help but sigh again. I set him on the floor, still happily clutching Lily's award.

"I wonder if Daddy watched all of us?" Tyler ponders aloud.

"Oh, I'm sure he did," I tell him. "I'm sure he can't find words to express what he thought of it, right now, either." Enchanting most certainly won't be in there, trust me. With Russell's sometimes colorful vocabulary, I can pretty much guess what sorts of words might be coming to mind, but it's nothing I can repeat in front of the kids.

Emily's being held by the makeup lady. "We didn't realize no one was watching the children," she says, apologetically. But of course I couldn't ask the crew to look after my brood, although after the fact it seems now like a pretty spectacular idea.

Looking right at Lily, I say in my Mum Tone (that's what Russell calls it; it's my version of the Maximus Tone he often employs), "I thought they'd be fairly safe from mischief." She ducks her head and looks like she wants to run and hide. Sweetly, I add, "Lil and Tyler, I'd really like to talk to you right now."

"We can watch the babies." In fact, the cameraman has Jaden. I guess they can sense the gravity of the situation. I still hate to leave my children in the care of the crew, but I'd like to get to the bottom of this, immediately. I point them in the direction of the den. My daughter looks like she's being herded off to the firing squad. Tyler looks eager to be heard.

I just want the bare bones facts right now; anything else can and will come out later. Once they're both sitting in front of me, Lil staring at the floor between her feet, Tyler bouncing like he has to go to the bathroom, I say, "Well?"

My son's about to burst out of his skin, so I look at him first. Excitedly, he recants, "You were on TV, Mommy, an' we were watchin' you...then Lil said she was going to go potty. I told her, you said, to stay there, but she said she was bigger 'en me, so she was going to anyway. So she left, an' Jaden went with her...but I peeked and she wasn't going potty, she was going into Dad's office. So I didn't know what to do...I went to see, an' they were lookin' at Mr. Oscar. I KNEW they were getting in trouble, so I went to come tell you, and Emmy came, too." He draws a breath finally.

That's about what I figured. I look at my daughter. "Is that what happened?" I ask.

She nods. I sigh again. It seems that's all I've been doing recently. "We're going to talk more about this shortly," I tell her. "Right now, I've got to fetch the twins and send the TV people on their way...I want the two of you to go upstairs to the playroom and wait for me there. I don't want you to leave, not once, unless it is a major emergency, do you understand me? Do you think you can do that?"

They both nod. Lil sniffles. "Don't tell Daddy," she pleads. 

Exasperated, I tell her, "Lily, how can I NOT tell Daddy? He watched it all just now, on live TV! And, I'm sure he's already figured out a lot of what's happened. Now, just go, and we'll talk more about this in a bit." I add, "You're not going to school today. I'm going to call them, and tell them you're not going to be there."

Her head snaps up with shock. I hate the misery on her face, but I feel this is what has to be done. "Why???" she wails.

"With everything that's been going on, I think I'd feel better today knowing exactly where you are and what you're doing," I explain. I absolutely hate disciplining my kids, and I wish my husband would hurry and get home to help me deal with this. "Now, go, please."

Both kids traipse obediently along. I go back to the great room to find my other two perfectly well. Jaden is now being carried by the sound man; he has one of those furry covers that go over the boom microphones over his tiny hand. Emily is still with the makeup lady, and has one of her big blush brushes, tickling herself with it and giggling.

The entire crew has seen my other two dejectedly heading upstairs. "We all have kids, we've been there before," the man holding Jaden says kindly, handing me my son. When I attempt to take the furry mike cover from him, he squawks and the man tells me to keep it. The makeup lady also reassures me that the brush Em is holding is new, never been used, and she can keep that as well. It's a nice, fairly pricey one, but I'm so glad to get this over and done with that I don't protest.

"Would you care to stay for brekkie?" I ask politely. They decline, probably because a. they can sense my family crisis, and b. they probably don't want to experience a meal with my adorable hellion children, after seeing what kind of mayhem they can create in five minutes or less.

I lug both babies up and deposit them in the playroom, then go back to see what has happened to poor hapless Mr. Oscar. The door to Russell's office is wide open, as well as the door to the curio. A small cushioned footstool has been pulled up, and if Tyler hadn't intervened, who knows what might have happened next. I shut everything up, restore the room to rights, and am about to go back to The Reckoning when the phone rings. It's either my husband or my in-laws.

I pick the phone up, say "Hello?" and all I hear is laughter. That goofy, completely incongruous laughter of Russell's, the type that seems totally out of character for him, and which usually makes me join in. I am not amused today, however. After merely listening to about a full minute of it, I say frostily, "Are you through?"

"I'm so sorry, love," he gasps out. "But, are you all right?"

"If by all right, do you mean that the crisis that you witnessed on live national television is over, yes, it is," I tell him, my tone still chilly. "I haven't quite decided how I am holding up, though. All four of your children are in the playroom taking a Time Out, does that tell you anything?"

"Oh, so they're strictly mine again," he says. I can still hear the amusement in his voice.

This pisses me off a bit, so I tell him, "They're yours until further notice."

"I see." He sobers because I think he's realized my mind set. "Look, I'm going to the meeting now, and then I'm coming right home."

"That's good, because we have more than just this to deal with..." I quickly tell him about Lily and Mr. Oscar, and why his parents weren't there. Now it's his turn to sigh. "Can you make it till I get there without doing them or yourself bodily harm, Liss?"

"I make no promises," I snap. I'll betcha he's afraid to come home now. 

"Hang in there, baby," he tells me. "Please. For me. I promise, right home."

"You'd better," I threaten, and before he thinks I'm totally coming unhinged, I add, more softly, "I love you. I'm okay, really. Just get here, all right?"

"Yep." He hangs up and I can guarantee you he probably started laughing again.

As soon as I hang up with Russell, the phone rings again. This time, it's his dad. Whereas I probably could have happily strangled my husband right now, I feel badly talking to his father, because I can hear in Dad's tone he is very, very sorry neither he nor Mum were here to prevent the kids' interesting television debut. "Are you all right?" he wants to know.

This time, somehow, I'm just weary, rather than waiting for someone to stop laughing at my expense. Now, I love Russell completely and without restraint, I truly do. And I do know he really does feel badly about what happened, and I'm sure it'll all come out later, but I'm just not in the mood to find this funny yet. So I almost cry, but barely manage to restrain myself. "I'm okay."

"Liss, are you sure?" For the longest time, Russ was the only one to call me Lissy, but now the rest of his family does, and it seems so natural and right. "Because I can come over if you need someone."

"No, stay with Mum." I add, "I've got to go discipline your grandchildren now, Dad."

Now, Alex does laugh, because he knows how, if they're naughty, they're strictly Russell's. "Don't be too hard on them, sweetheart. We'll talk to you later."

When I go back upstairs, thankfully, all four children are right where I left them, the twins quietly playing together with their new 'toys' the crew gave them, Tyler with his cars, and Lily looking at a book. The older two exchange a glance with each other, then warily look at me.

"I'd like to talk to you, if I may," I say, coming over to sit on the floor with them, the twins immediately coming to crawl into my lap. "Because I'd like to find out more about what went on, and then discuss what we might possibly have to do to make sure this doesn't happen again."

Lily exclaims, lower lip trembling, "I'm sorry I ruined your interview, Mama!"

I feel badly for her, but this can't be helped. "I'm sorry, too, Mommy," Tyler apologizes, and the twins say, "Me, too," even though they have no concept of what they're sorry for. I explain, "You know, I'm not even that upset about the interview. What I am upset about mostly concerns you, Lil. If you hadn't gone looking for Mr. Oscar, if you'd just stayed where I asked you to, this would never have happened. Liliana Jade Crowe, whatever possessed you to do that?"

Tyler whispers worriedly to her, "She used all THREE of your names...do you KNOW what that MEANS?"

"It means she's possibly in a great deal of trouble," I clarify. He suddenly hushes up, trying to keep my attention diverted from him. "Lily, it makes me very sad to find out that maybe I can't trust you. And, I know it's going to make Daddy sad, too, to find out that you aren't able to not touch things that don't belong to you. But what we're going to do is wait until he gets home and then we're really going to talk about this. What I want now is for you to spend some quiet time all by yourself, in your room. I'm going to make us some brekkie, and then we're all going to be very good until your father gets here, and then maybe I won't be quite as upset anymore. Tyler, you're going to do the same, spend quiet time in your room, too."

"Why'm I in trouble?" he protests. "What did I do?"

"No one is in real trouble," I say, adding, "yet," when they get this glimmer of hope. "We're going to wait for Daddy, and then talk about it. The twins are going to come with me, and you two will stay in your rooms until I come get you to eat."

"How come the babies get to go with you?" Poor Tyler does not like this one bit. 

"Because they're small, and I need to keep an eye on them," I explain. "I would like to find out that, just this once, I DON'T need to keep an eye on you two, though. Can I trust you this time?"

"Yes." They both look so miserable I almost give in, but this is my first experience on the Mum front all by myself of this magnitude, and I can't back down. "I had better find out that I can, because things are going to get mighty unhappy if I can't."

"But..." my son objects once more. Tired of all of this, trying to show some restraint, I tell him, "Tyler Alexander Crowe, I hope my using all three of YOUR names shows you what kind of state I am in right now. So, I hope that will let you know that I just want you to mind me, and I don't want any more questions at this point in time. Understood?"

"Yes, Mommy." Lil gives him this "see? Told you so," kind of look and then they're off to their respective rooms. I pick the twins up, one in each arm. "You'd better be good, too," I warn. They both snuggle against me...it seems the older siblings have taught them some of Sucking Up To Mum.

I truly don't think I AM all that upset about the interview fiasco, although it might take me a couple of months at least before I dare show my face in public again. I'm trying to sort out what would possess Lily, other than the simple fact she seems to be under Oscar's magical spell. I honestly believe that she wouldn't have deliberately caused harm, in fact, I'm almost certain that the most she wanted to do was to touch him and hold him again, but the fact remains she deliberately disobeyed us. Me, more so than her dad. She's usually been quite a good child, and I have to remember, she IS still a child. Still, this has to stop, and it has to stop now. It already went out of control, I'm afraid.

I pop the twins in their high chairs, and make, because I feel bad myself, Nana's famous smiley faced pancakes. When they're ready, I fetch Tyler first, because I want to talk a little more with Lil. "Am I not grounded no more?" he asks.

"You weren't grounded to begin with, it was more like a long time out," I explain. "Go down and eat, and watch the twins for a sec...I'm going to talk to your sister." I add, trying to make him feel better, and then, by association, myself, "I made smiley faced pancakes today."

He looks happier now. "I love you, Mommy," he tells me. "And not just 'cause you made my favorite brekkie ever...but that is great, too!" 

So, my son loves me for my pancakes...but today, that's quite enough. I have to laugh at his antics, but then sober as I go to see to Lily.

She's lying facedown on her bed. I sit on the edge and she tries to pretend I'm not there. This actually hurts my feelings. "Are you mad at me, muffin?" I want to know.

She shakes her head. I reach out and stroke her hair. "Because I would understand if you were," I tell her. "I've been sort of a Meanie Mum today."

"But, I've been bad," she says in a tiny voice. I have to admit, "Well, yes, you have. And I'm very sorry to keep you from school, but like I told you, I'm more sorry that you did what you did.  Why did you do that, sweetie?"

Sitting up, she shrugs. "I don't know," she says. 

"That's not a very good excuse, Lil," I warn. "When Dad comes home, I'm going to ask you the same question again. That will give you plenty of time to come up with a good answer, because he's going to want to know the same thing. Now, why don't you come downstairs and eat, and then we're all going to try to chill out till he gets here. Do you know what I mean by that?"

I have to ask, because, being brought up by multicultural parents as we both are, the children tend to get this sort of diction that's half and half. Half American, half Aussie...but most of the time they know what's going on, and they themselves speak in this marriage of both that's cute and sometimes funny. "It means we're gonna be good," she translates.

"That's exactly what it means," I agree. "Now, let's go eat...I have breakfast waiting...smiley faced pancakes." 

She gets a little smile at that one. "Love you, Mum," she tells me, like her brother did. 

Suspiciously, I ask, "Do you love me just for my pancakes, Lil?"

She looks utterly puzzled. "No...I love you 'cause you're my Mum, that's why." 

I give her a hug and a kiss and I think that at least for a bit, things are mended between us. The shit may hit the fan when Russell comes home, but for now, no worries.

It's late afternoon when my husband finally gets home; the children were indeed blessedly chilled out for the rest of the morning, and I made all four of them take naps.

When he walks in he looks around, as if checking to make sure the house is still in one piece, and then he counts heads, to make sure I haven't murdered any of the kids. The urge to strangle him is still there, but the urge to embrace him wins out, because I am so grateful to see him.

After a very nice kiss (which I can tell by the looks on Lil's and Tyler's faces they hope chills him out, too), he says cheerfully, "So, I've heard you've given your Mum a bit of strife while I was gone, is that right?"

Like the producer's calling it enchanting, Russell's terming it a bit of strife doesn't come close to accurate. Tyler can't contain himself. "Did you see us, Dad?" he asks, eagerly.

"Oh, I saw all of you, let me tell you," he says. Lil's known her father long enough to gauge that the look on his face isn't all sunshine and happiness. So, she says nothing, but Tyler presses on. "What did you think, Daddy? Huh?"

He finally catches on when Russell tells him in a more serious tone, "We're going to talk about what I think. And, we're going to talk about what your mother thinks. But first, I'd like a hug, how 'bout that?"

All four children eagerly come to him for that, but I'm able to read Lil's dread. When he hugs her, though, he gives her a kiss and asks her if she's doing okay. I think both of us are not anticipating laying down major law here; of course our kids are far from perfect and we've had scrapes and tiffs before, but this one is the first real huge one involving everyone. When he's finished basking in their affection, he tells them, "I know this is something none of us are probably looking forward to, so I think, even though I'd like to settle in for a while, we should probably get this over with. Just a moment, while Mummy and I talk."

They're all so uncharacteristically silent as we go into the other room. "They act like they're about to be drawn and quartered," he comments, when we're alone.

"Well, you just scared the hell out of them!" I exclaim.

"Me?" He asks, "Do you want to deal with this, or not?"

"Of course I do!" I end up leaning against him for support. "I'm just so damn tired."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He kisses my forehead. "More than I can say, I'm sorry."

"It's not going to change anything." But I kiss him back. "Do we have to do this?"

"They're not going to learn anything if we don't. You don't want them to think this is fine, and normal, do you?"

"There's not going to be another opportunity for something like this to happen again, I tell you," I say. "My celebrity days are over and done with."

He grins but is smart enough not to say anything, except, "I'm sorry," again.

"You're going to make it up to me later." That's a definite threat and a promise. "How do you want to handle this?"

"I thought that was your area of expertise?" he queries. Like me, he absolutely hates disciplining the children; we're lucky in that they are, for the most part and with the very notable exception of today, quite well mannered.

"You are not chickening out on me," I tell him. "And, I am not going to play 'good cop, bad cop' with you, Russell. You're either with me or against me, and all I can say is, God help you if you're against me."

 "I wouldn't be that fucking stupid," he counters. Despite myself, I smile. He continues, "All right then, I'll start and you jump in when you'd like."

"Use the Maximus Tone," I advise sweetly. He gives me a look. "They don't succumb to it anymore, Lissy." 

"I know, but use it anyway." On the way back out, I pat him on the behind, discreetly. "I find it amusing." 

He gives me another look, this one with smolder on the edges of it, but then we're all seriousness as we sit back down with our children.

"So," Daddy begins, "I understand this all started because someone got into things they shouldn't and they weren't where they were supposed to be."

We all look at Lily. She ducks her head again and won't meet our gazes. "That person," Russell goes on, "know who they are and so I'm not going to mention their names and make them feel even worse."

Of course, Tyler pipes up, "Daddy...it's Lil, right?"

I can't help but sigh again; I'm sitting next to my son so I place a restraining hand over his to quiet him down. Russell sighs, too. "Yes, it's Lil," he says, "but we're not going to dwell on that right now. But, since we all know who it is, I reckon I'm going to start this talk with her. Lily, I want to know why you left when Mum told you not to, and why you went in my office when she told you not to, and what you were going to do with Oscar, after she told you not to play with him, either."

"But she didn't," Lil says in a small voice. I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. Even my husband's a little surprised. "You're not lying, are you, love? Because you'll be in even more trouble if you are."

"Daddy..." Lil looks at both of us and spreads her hands wide, pleading her case. "I'm not lying. Mama said, TRY to stay in the den. And, she said, it would be BEST to stay out of the office. And she didn't tell me not to play with Mr. Oscar."

Boy, this kid's good, I have to give her some credit. I can't look at Russell, because I'm afraid if I did, we'd both burst out laughing. As it is, I sneak a tiny peek and I know by the way that muscle is twitching in his cheek it's all he can do to contain himself. Tyler gets this dawning look of admiration, like 'hey, that's a good one, sis' and I kick Russ under the table. He clears his throat, a sure sign he's hanging on the edge. Looking at both older children, he clearly intones, "Just because Mum or I don't specifically tell you 'no' about something, that does not mean it's okay to do it, if you know better." Fixing Tyler especially with a meaningful gaze, he goes on, "Is that clear?"

Our son looks disappointed we're not going to fall for that one anymore. "Yes," they both admit.

"If Mum told you the stove was hot," he goes on, wanting to impart a serious life lesson now, "but she didn't tell you not to touch it, would you?"

"No," both children say. 

"I think we all understand that even if you're not told you shouldn't do something, if you know it's wrong or bad, that doesn't give you reason to do it anyhow," he continues. "And I'm fairly certain that you realize that, Lily."

"Yes, Daddy." 

"All right then. So, I want to know, what made you do it anyway, and what were you planning to do with Mr. Oscar?"

"I just wanted to touch him." She's sniffling again. "He's pretty, and shiny, and that's all I was gonna do, honest. And I know it was bad, but I couldn't help it. I just couldn't." We're both silent, letting her say her piece. "But then, Jaden came in too, and he wanted to grab stuff, and when I wouldn't let him, that's when he started screaming and he wouldn't stop."

Now I break in. "Sweetie...you know that award's Daddy's. He worked very hard for it, and it was a very special thing for him to win it. If anything happened to it, we would all feel really bad and we might not be able to fix him or get another one to replace it. You know you're supposed to ask before touching anything that isn't yours. Now, I'm glad that you stopped your baby brother from playing with or breaking anything, but the fact remains you did something wrong. Because of you being bad, you dragged Jaden, Tyler, and Emily into it with you. In fact, every one of you is in trouble to some extent."

This is the first Tyler's heard of being included in the mix. "What...??" he protests. 

"Tyler, you left the room, too, after you had been told," I explain. "I'm grateful you did, because if you didn't something might have gone even more wrong, but still...and you tattled on your sister, and what have we been trying to teach you about that?"

"No one likes a tattletale," he recites, sadly. Russell, usually very opinionated and outspoken himself, is content with letting me lead this discussion. But then he adds, "The twins are too little to know better, really, but you two are not. So, we rely on you both to teach them right from wrong. I don't even want to know what they might have learned from this experience."

"Oscar!" Jaden says, joyously. I shake my head. "No, no Oscar, not any more." 

He falls silent. "No?" Emmy asks. "No Oscar?" Jaden echoes. "No, no, no?"

"No," I reiterate. They look at each other, then at their dad. "No," he tells them. "And," he goes on, "No for you, either, Lil. I'm sorry, and I hate to do this, but I AM going to tell you now: No more going into the office, unless me or Mum tells you or gives you the okay to. It's going to be locked until I feel you can be trusted. That goes for you, too, mate," he tells Tyler. "The cabinet will be locked, too, and you aren't even going to be able to see him, at least not for awhile." She has to quit cold turkey, I'm afraid.

"It's not even that part of it, Lily...I'd rather have an award for being your dad, although Mr. Oscar does mean a lot to me. And I don't think all this is about your mum's interview turning out bad." I shake my head. "It's about the fact we don't feel we can trust you." She's very upset now, but this has to all come out before either of us can comfort her. "We thought we could, but it doesn't look like we can, and this makes us both quite sad."

"Lil...you're going to have to show us that we can trust you again, and that may take a bit of time," I tell her. "You're going to have to work really hard at it, and then we can see what a good girl you can be."

"Till then, you're going to have to have some privileges taken away," her dad tells her. "I think what would be fair, and correct me if I'm wrong, Mum, is that every day after school for a couple of weeks, you're going to come straight home. You're not going to Nana's and Papa's, you're not going out riding on Hope; you're not going to do anything but come home and help Mummy around the house. If she doesn't have anything else she needs you to help her with, then you can play." I could correct him because, other than her not allowed to ride, this isn't really a punishment. The older children usually do go over to Russell's parents' after Lil gets home from school, but more often than not, they come over here. But I don't point this out because I think both of us want to get this over and done with.

"Tyler, while she's at school, same goes for you, no Nana or Papa's," he tells him. "We don't really have anything to take from the twins, because they don't know any better. But I think from now on everyone should be very careful how they act around them, so that they learn the right thing to do."

The older two agree. "And tonight," Russell goes on, "after dinner, all of you are going to bed early. No staying up, no playing, you're taking baths and going to bed."

I think they're okay with this because they realize it could be a lot worse. He surprises me by going on, "Mum and I have been bad, too, so we're also going to go to bed early."

"We are?" He gives me the same look as before, only with a little more smolder added. Mmm. "I think that's fair," I agree, innocently. 

"Why were you bad?" Tyler asks curiously. 

"Because I acted like my interview was more important than taking care of you," I tell him. "And, of course, it's not. And Daddy was bad because..." Why WAS he bad? I look at him.

"I was bad," he tells them, seamlessly, "because I also acted like my meeting was more important than Mum, or you guys, and it wasn't, either. I should have been here, and I wasn't."

"You're makin' yourselves go to bed early?" Lil is amazed at this. 

"Are you gonna give Mommy a SPANKIN'?" Tyler wants to know. 

I could melt or spontaneously combust at the look he's now giving me. "That's not entirely out of the question," he says. Someday, sexual innuendoes in front of the kids will not fly. Until then, however...

"Can I watch?" our son wants to know, eagerly. 

Heavens, no. "Daddy's not going to spank me," I assure him, but I can't guarantee that. "But, I think he's right, if we are bad, then we should have to have a punishment, as well."

"Can we decide about you?" Lily's feeling a little better now. 

"No, because we're the parents," Russell tells her. "But do you think what we've decided is fair?"

"Yes," she says. 

"And you're not going to do anything like this again, and you're going to work hard so we can trust you?"

"Yes." 

"All right then." He leans over and kisses her. "I think this chapter in our life is settled." 

"The book is closed," I say firmly. Tyler looks confused. "What book? I didn't see a book, Mama." 

I shake my head and give him an affectionate kiss. "I want to be a grownup," he complains. "I never understand anything." 

"You don't want to be a grownup just yet, son," I tell him. His dad is agreeing with me. "Trust me, you don't."

Of course, there are some nice things about being a grownup. I find this out after we have bathed and put the kids to bed, when we take our own punishment and go to bed early ourselves.

We're cuddling in the aftermath. He sleepily nuzzles my neck. "I love it when you've been under stress," he says. "It makes you really randy afterwards."

I give him an affectionate poke. "I hope never to go through that much stress in a single day again," I tell him, "so that might have just been the best you'll ever get."

He laughs, and this time, I do join in. Then, I raise my head because I notice something on his side of the bed. "What's that?"

He reaches over and holds it up so I can see. It's Lily's tiny award, the one my mum gave her. There's also a piece of paper, and after he reads it, he looks incredibly touched as he hands it to me.

Lily's been working hard at learning how to read and write; even though she just started school not too long ago, we've worked with her for some time and she's pretty good. She knows how to try to sound things out. It's a note written in her own hand:

To my dad a gud dad. An aword for beeng my daddy. I luv you.

Lily

The very next day, he puts it in his office, next to his big Oscar. It's been there ever since. I think he treasures it more than the contents of that entire curio combined.