Rekindling...

This year, I made a semi-resolution to spend less (in line with my considerable dip in earning in 2013). I also made a semi-resolution to do more of what I love. Knocking off two birds with one stone saw me rekindling my life long love affair with the public library, which while it hasn't necessarily taken a back foot in recent years, weekly story-time, of which I've blogged about before, can sometimes suck the joy out of it. It's hard to wander the aisles whilst constantly jerking my head to look for a little blonde tuft of hair crouched over her pile of books and not wandering the realms of the library. As a mother-reader I've obviously had to be more strategic- make lists of authors and titles. And with this rekindling I've found myself reacquainted with another previous pastime- staying up til idiot-o-clock to finish a storyline, and then walking around like a zombie for the next two days.

And, if like me, you love that strange sadness when you plow through a story, almost sweating with the anticipation of discovering how everything plays out, only to feel that tug of loss when it's all over- here's what's been occupying my life of late:

John Marsden- the Tomorrow series and the Ellie chronicles. He's an incredible storyteller, but these? Sheeshh. Amazeballs. So good I can't even use proper language.

Suzanne Collins- The Hunger Games trilogy. Yeah yeah, I know, go see the movies (which I haven't done as yet). I stayed away from this for a while, because the futuristic, dystopian genre isn't really my thing, but this story is fantastic, unputdownable, and then because it is are also scare-the-pants-off-able it subsequently becomes can't-sleep-at-night-seeing-scary-horrible-concepts-able. Seriously, I haven't slept much this week, haunted by some of the scenes and images. Which makes me wonder how some of the Grade 6 girls at BabyG's school last year managed- I saw these girls clutching copies of this novel to their chests like talismans. At the time, my heart soared at the sight, thinking of myself reading morning, noon and night, thinking 'yeah, go girls, I was a bookworm too, and look how hot I turned out!'. Now I'm wondering how they managed to function after reading such graphic, violent scenes.

Years ago, I read the Harry Potter series, only because it became embarrassing when after two years a colleague on the same floor as me kept saying 'you have to read this.' I did it to shut him up, and then like the rest of the world was consumed by them. As they progressed, I could understand why the author was doing interviews saying she didn't want children younger than the characters (in each successive book) reading them. They were as scary as shit, sometimes, not just for the fact that by book 5 when she'd made a gazillion out of them the publishers didn't worry about making sure they had a decent copy edit before they went to release. These books gave me nightmares, the death eaters, etc, but Hunger Games take it to a whole new level. And now I've found myself lurking around other people's pinterest boards, chuckling at their geeky posters etc, and horror of horror, I've become a fangirl. Best I go back to Jane Austen for a while til all this dies down...

Muddering...

There was yet another vomit-inducing article in the Sunday papers last week pitting stay-at-home mothers against working mothers. Lucky co-incidence they start the annual mummy-war the week before Mothers Day? Me thinks not... And rather than ignore this tired old blah blah blah, every social commentator online and in print react, raise their hackles and go ballistic. Sure, one of the stay-at-home mamas was as irritatingly smug as all get out, but big deal. Let her knit a merino scarf made from wool gathered in the moonlight on the fourth of each month by an ancient order of monks whilst her tribe of children frolic on the floor before her like puppies (I shit you not, that's how they were described), whilst hubby brings home his seven figure salary. The opposing view in this fine piece of journalism (so fine, I'm not even going to link to it) was that it was wrong, wrong, wrong of smug-mummy to ignore her double degrees and not only turn her back on her career whilst raising children, but turn the clock back 50 years, reinforcing negative stereotypes. Oh yes, while children frolicked and she knitted, a cake was cooling.

Clearly, being a stay-at-home mum with double degrees, masters no less, some of this gave me a little tickle in the guilt region. But I've mixed it up a bit workwise whilst being a mother- I'm full time at home now, but I've been a part-time employee as well. All valid. And I don't feel I'm a bad role model to my girls by being at home with them. Having said all that, I drafted an email to school this morning (as yet unsent), voicing my concerns/disapproval about our annual Mothers Day event- always held during the day, whilst Fathers Day activities either involve a breakfast at 8am or evening shindig- both planned so as not to impact on the working day. I find this an unacceptable double standard, particularly given the number of working parents at the school- not just dads. In fact, at our school there are a decent whack of stay-at-home dads, both part time and full time.

Now, if you'll excuse me, my cherubs are outside in this freezing cold Melbourne weather frolicking, not so much like puppies, but savages...

Aching ribs...

I had an absolutely wonderful time last night with a dear friend at a comedy show in the city. Two American brothers- comedians/actors/writers/producers-type guys that made us laugh so much my ribs hurt (hence today's title) and I think I may have laughed up a lung at one point. Naj (my friend) and I laughed solidly for over three hours, and then as we were leaving we spotted a celebrity in the crowd, and then I laughed some more watching Naj dodge cars and trams chasing this guy for a photo to no avail.

It felt really good, to sit in the dark for the sole purpose of laughter. Whilst I've always worked to embody a glass-half-full attitude, even more so since becoming a mother and thus a role model, the last couple of weeks had highlighted, once again, we're on this planet for such a limited time, so I've upped the anti in the attitude department. It's a fine line between empathy and enablement. People want to give me their petty dramas? Yeah, no thanks. I'll be accepting very little doses of this, particularly when there is very little positivity attached. Of course, we all have irritants and things that get up our noses- a friend is having hassles with some power-hungry knobheads in her apartment complex who think they're running the pentagon secret service rather than a body corporate, a couple of members of the kinder committee are constantly butting heads over nothing, looking at me to intervene, but what's that expression? Don't sweat the small stuff- how apt. Love it, and a sentiment I'm super keen for my girls to adopt. Here's another lesson for us on a sunny Autumn morning- it feels awesome to lie on the floor whilst your mum tickles your tummy with her toes:

Soul warming...

This week has been rather horrid. Two women in my outer circle have had catastrophic experiences. The first lost her husband to a relentlessly fast cancer- she has three young children. The second discovered her daughter (a woman with two girls under two years of age) has an aggressive, terminal brain tumour. Horrific stuff. 

I say outer circle because it feels macabre to refer to them as anything closer, but both are part of our kinder community. The first shared a role on committee with me, and we became quite close over two years, then drifted apart the last 12 months, with different schools for our children, but both of us were looking forward to reconnecting again next year when her younger daughter rejoins the kinder community. This woman has a smile that lights up a room, is a beautiful woman and has such a generosity of spirit she simply exudes warmth. The second was one of BabyG's teacher, a wonderful woman who treated my cherub as if she were her own, a funny, irreverent, kind-hearted, beautiful soul who never failed to offer a cheery greeting whenever you entered her space. 

I found out about both of these terrible circumstances on the same day, in the same phonecall, and I immediately bunkered down with my younger cherub. When the older came home from school she too was enveloped in extra love and kisses. I couldn't sleep that night, and crept into their rooms in the middle of the night and sat by their bedsides watching these perfect cherubs sleep.

There really are no words to make sense of any of the bad in this world, but today at the library, BabyG brought home a book, The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr Morris Lessmore. She sat at the dining table and read it, my mum at her shoulder, encouraging her, gently prompting her as she stumbled over some of the harder words (amiable! I just love the use of such glorious words in picture books). At the books closure I had tears running down my face, and as its author describes, I felt the restorative nature of books. Nothing's changed, of course, but tomorrow I'll be dropping off two snuggly blankets I made for two little girls to their grandmother, and I hope when they wrap themselves up in them they can feel something if not restorative, at least warming...

A flattering depiction...

Seems my own little tantrums have been immortalised, just as I've immortalised those of my Little Miss:

Here's angry Mama, shouting. Hmmm... On paper would have been nice, rather than the playroom table, and perhaps less likely to result in Mama shouting. Still, I can't bring myself to give it a scrub with a dishcloth, and I do like my long skinny legs...

Outsourcing...

In the holidays, BabyG did a cupcake decorating course at a community arts centre not far from home. We dropped her off, the Little Miss saw with dinner plate eyes the work stations covered with no less than 10 cupcakes of different sizes, threw her head back and roared. I kissed the older cherub on the head, scooped up the younger one and took her to a cafe for a couple of hours.

BabyG had asked in the car if she'd make some friends at the course? I said she may be too busy learning, but to be friendly and smile and you never know. I was hoping though, that she'd make a friend for the afternoon, not with the intention of continuing the friendship, but just so BabyG knows how easy it can be to strike up a conversation with a stranger, and that she's not reliant on having to know someone everywhere she goes- she has a friend that doesn't attend a single out of school activity unless the mother knows there is another child there she is friends with- I find this not only kind of sad, but also extremely limiting. I love it at the beach or park watching the cherubs strike up friendships and games with other cherubs, it gives me a sense of their self-confidence in being able to overcome temporary shyness and get on with the business of having fun. As it should be.

When we returned to pick up BabyG the room was deadly quiet. She gave me a smile, and said she had two more cupcakes to finish. She worked in silence, as did the other kids (eight in total), including a pair of friends, and a brother/sister combination. Another child, work complete, sat at a table with her back to the group with an ipod in. BabyG was probably the youngest in the room, and in around 5 minutes she'd finished, thanked the teacher and skedaddled out, happy with her bounty:

How gorgeous are these? She told me she didn't really make a friend, but the big girls said she was super cute, and decorated her cheeks with chocolate icing for a photo shoot for the local paper, which we've since grabbed some copies of and laminated for her to take to school for news circle. Did she want to do something next holidays at the centre? Yes please, she said. She wants to learn how to use a pottery wheel. What baby wants baby gets...

Old school playing

Following my last post where I outlined I've been less super-mum and more sucky-mum of recent times, I've been thinking hard about ways to engage my younger cherub to decrease the cause in the cause and effect equation of her throwing wobblies that look like they're straight from the exorcist. It's suddenly struck me that her older sister entertains her quite a bit. Yeah, not sure why it's taken me so long to come up with that brilliant piece of investigative journalism, let's put it to not much sleep for the past 7 years. BabyG at three and a half had the benefit of a mum super keen to keep her happy whilst the baby Little Miss had her big sleeps during the day, and so I actually applied some work skills to my parenting at that point of time, planning out activities, making notes and lists and preparing fun things for the next day. While over the holidays I tend to make a little rough list (with cherub input) of fun things to do, I haven't really applied this to the day-to-day activities of my Little Miss.  

I was flicking through some early years literacy and maths books from my mum, and an activity talked about soft bean bags, and a list of things to do with them- counting, marching with them balanced on heads, etc etc etc. Last year in Prep, BabyG did an activity that required parental assistance- PMP- have no idea what it stands for but basically a big hall with stations set up where children do different physical activities that have a clearly defined link to literacy and mathematics- how, again, I have no idea, but I'm sure there's an awesome explanation somewhere out there, and I'd love to be enlightened. It's on my list for tomorrow... ANYWAY, when I was parent helper at PMP, an activity was for children to balance the beanbags on a flat paddle and navigate around witches hats. Ta da- brain clicked into overdrive, and the Little Miss and I set to work:

I sewed up some little rectangles of fabric, flipped them the right way, poured some brown rice into a bowl and the Little Miss used a quarter cup measure and a funnel to fill them just over half full. We ran out of rice after the fourth bag, and thank goodness for that- when I sewed up the four we had finished, I put one on my head to demonstrate walking. Big smiles all round til I felt a tickle on my neck and thought I had spiders running down behind my ear- no, just a leak in the bag and half a kilo of rice in my bra. I top stitched the rest, filled them the next day, and no more disasters. Just an easy, quick playthingy that has the potential to keep a cherub happy for around 45 seconds...