missing you already

been doing this awhile now, my weary traveller
best part of business trips is the home-coming
xxxxx

Watching you disappear into clouds
To once again dance with (corporate) wolves
Protecting your flock
Providence no accident of fate
But hard-earned with your Eiffel-esque towering diligence

I imagine you hurtling into a faraway parallel universe
The land of topsy turvy
Decompressing in plastic, bland
Mini-barred cells
Where homework does not exist
Nor netball runs
Nor goodnight kisses
As you go undercovers
Not our own

It is easy to let you fly
Hard to let you go
A colour lost from our rainbow
The bass missing from our now-too-shrill
familial chorus
I have a hankering for
The rumble of your freight train snore
That keeps the night on track
There is no solace in the tiresome silence
(be careful what you wish for)
Detesting the absence of your throaty reassurance

There is so much air and space between us
Yet you never get a page ahead in the story
Absence never makes your heart go wander
So fly high
(But not too close to the sun)
Fly safe, fly home
Knowing you are always
in sight, in mind

Bunnies in the oven

I often idly think about writing a parenting book based soley on warnings. Eg- to all young, enthusiastic, naive parents – do not start family traditions, especially those tied up with mythical holiday figures, that you are not prepared to continue with for years and years, long past the point of novelty wearing off. Do NOT, I repeat do NOT come up with cute, creative and complicated easter egg hunts if you don’t want to be forced to continue to be cute, creative and complicated forever or risk ruining the myth for those fresh-faced innocents. It’s a hard thing to justify trying to convince kids that the Easter Bunny was just really tired this year or couldn’t be bothered LOL There are so many wellmeaning, misguided rods in/on ?? this back of mine, that it's really a wonder I can even sit down anymore. The girls do a great chorus of “but it’s a family TRAD-I-SHUN, Mum” LOL

Anyway, I was gonna bail this year, I really was, the kids could just get a pile of chocolate on the table and then all my slack intentions were railroaded by childish excitement and memories – I swear children can smell potential maternal slothfulness and rev their manipulative joy up a gear quickly to get me guilt-stricken and beholden again. We spent Easter at my parents’ house in Ocean Grove, it’s been some time since we were there at Easter and Amy was raving about the wonderful Easter Bunny treasure hunt they had there “remember, he left us a real letter and we all had bags and all the eggs had Hi-5 stickers on them and I had Tim and Sophie had Nathan and Kate had Charlie and we had to search all over the house and it was the bestest Easter ever! I hope we can do that again”. Dammit! And she would have been only about 4 at the time and I can’t believe she can remember the whole thing so vividly. So the Easter Bunny was up at midnight with a couple of drinks under her belt (Mr Bunny fast asleep and snoring like a steam train), whacking eggs and plush toys in all sorts of really quite amusing places. Fortunately the kids are macabre enough to love the sight of plush rabbits hidden in the oven in a baking tray and it gave EB a few giggles at midnight too LOL Hey, whatever gets you through the hunt… ;)

And can’t pass up the opportunity to have a rant about Easter excess while I’m here. Back when I was a kid (start rolling your eyes here, I’m used to it) and dinosaurs roamed the earth, the only person we got Easter eggs from was the Easter Bunny. These days, my girls get a couple of kilos of chocolate from each set of indulgent grandparents, more from doting aunts and now they’re even bringing truckloads home from school courtesy of friends and teachers. The Easter Bunny is completely redundant, but unfortunately unable to sit back and retire with a nice big payout, but instead ends up having to sneakily bring very small amounts of chocolate that still look exciting (hence the chocolate Cluedo game – how cool is that? And plush animals because lord knows we don’t have enough of them around here…)

Anyway, getting off track mid-rant, the amount of chocolate the girls get is blardy ridiculous and has turned me into the Easter Nazi - probably closely related to the Christmas Grinch - (turn away from the horror now Susannah, I am your worst nightmare) who insists on monitoring and rationing out every morsel of chocolate the girls are allowed to eat. It’s not the calories, the health ramifications, not even the potential dentist bills, it’s the crazy sugar high/inevitable post sugar high plummet that I can’t, I really just can’t deal with. And it’s school holidays - I have nowhere to hide for weeks LOL At the paltry rate I dole out and the sky-high pile of confectionery here, we’ll still be eating eggs at Christmas, maybe we can leave them out for Santa ;)

Still gotta love pics of happy kids in flan pjs holding up their score. :-)

Oh the pain and humiliation…..

..... of having your mother work at your school LOL

'Twas a long hard road to these happy snaps, I assure you. I try not to have my oh-so-convenient job at the girls' primary school impact negatively on them, especially as they get older and more self-conscious (and I simultaneously become ever greater a potential source of mortification). Hasn't really been a problem until our recent Carnevale day (Italian celebration) held at school on the last day of term one. Teachers, aides, principal, even the office staff dress up along with the kids and as you can see there's a big parade. The teachers in the grade 3/4 area where I work decided to go as ballroom dancers (WTF?) and the look on Amy's face when she heard me complaining to Kate about it was just priceless. There was a whole double-take, I-can't-possibly-be-hearing-what-I'm-hearing-pick-my-jaw-up-off-the-floor routine going on accompanied by a wailing soundtrack of "Muuuuuuuum, you can't do it, you can't do it to me!" LOL In her defence, how many 10 yos do you know who'd want their daggy Mum turning up at school in spangles and lycra? It is a scary thought indeed, I could feel her pain and was really quite happy to abandon the group participation idea anyway ;)

Amy is shy dressing up outside our house, especially parading in front of the school anyway - she tends to prefer claytons costumes, the ones where if you didn't know she was dressing up, well you wouldn't know she was dressing up IYKWIM. So it's always a challenge to find come up with something that doesn't cause too much discomfiture and apparently now that extends to me too... My next costume brainwave was simple - dress up in Kate's school uniform (yes, just virtually slap me, showing off that I CAN fit into my Amazonian daughter's uniform, but let me reassure you, those long white knee high socks are a far better look on a leggy 12yo than a meatier-calved, short-arsed 40yo with childbearing hips LOL). Anyway, Kate loved styling me, braiding my hair with ribbons, piling on blazer and hat etc, it was hilarious, we were hysterical with laughter and Amy took one look and said without even a single giggle "you just can't, I won't even go to school that day". So if I was in any doubt, I now have conclusive confirmation that I've fully entered the embarrassment to my children phase of life. Kate was disappointed that her Frankenstein-worthy creation was not to be unveiled in public, but I promised I'd be a school girl in a couple of years once Amy has gone on to secondary school as Sophie couldn't give a hoot what I wear ;)

So finally, I look to what the girls are planning for their costumes for inspiration - Amy is Little Red Riding Hood which only involves her wearing some of her favourite clothes LOL (shout out to K8 who will recognise Red's hood which comes from the very cool Shoppe of Bronte) and a basket of goodies to share with her class (shout out to Kate F for my gorgy spotty Christmas pressie teatowel which covered her goodies). Sophie jumped on that fairytale bandwagon immediately as a convincing Big Bad Wolf, but when I tried to board the wagon as Grandma, the wheels came off, it went off the rails, Lil Red abandoned ship and any other cliche you can think of. Something like this:

"No, no, no - you can't wear your pyjamas to school in front of my friends. Why can't you just be Little Red Riding Hood's mother?"
"And what would I wear?"
"Mother clothes."
"So basically as you're Little Red Riding Hood, I would be dressing up as your mother, Which is - me."
"Exactly."
"You do realise that isn't a costume?"

Anyway, as the pics testify, we finally talked her found (one condition - no grandma wig LOL) and I had the comfiest costume of all on the day, pretty much just had to roll out of bed. But the big question is:

What do you think I should wear for Book Week??? LOL

PS Everyone else seems to have their act together and yummy Easter pics and posts up already, while I sit here surrounded by piles of washing and unpacked luggage from our beach Easter weekend, no food in the house (except chocolate of course), three kids underfoot on school holidays and a husband about to leave for Paris (yes Paris) without me, sob. So bear with me, will get there in the end. We had a fab time with perfect servings of friends, family, chocolate, champagne, beach and sleep - photos to follow

Cute and yummy

This is especially for Kaz and her pair of budding cooks, Lauren and Kayley. Look at this sweet little pair – how cute and yummy.

Sophie went to a cooking party at a gorgeous local shop that does children’s cooking clasess a couple of weekends ago. When I arrived to pick her up, I found these two pancake moulds and knowing what addicts my trio are, we simply had to adopt them and bring them home with us (along with colourful individual jelly moulds with sealable tops perfect for school lunchboxes and a pair of oh-so-cute pastel green tipped mini tongs for no reason at all).

I had seen a recipe for choc chip pikelets in the latest issue of Delcious and thought I’d steal the idea and throw some choc bits in our human pancakes – to a chorus of appreciative When-Harry-Met-Sally-esque moans and groans of pleasure. Melting chocolate in a warm pancake is a sheer delight, highly recommend it for a treat. :-)

Hi ho, hi ho – it’s off to hell I go…..

Firstly need to say that as the lovely Ms Porter has noted, there is probably a limit to how many perfect Carrie Young portraits I can justify borrowing to make my blog look gorgeous LOL (although you know I do have a gallery of about 80 pics there Georgie :P ) . So we're back in civilian snapshot territory again ....

And yes, it's the Jennings family in church on a Sunday!

So I'm the Christening hypocrite here – agnostic as they come (well I’m Libran, what do you expect? sitting with a fence post up my bum is practically obligatory LOL), standing up in a church renouncing evil, professing a faith of a denomination I know next to nothing about – it’s so WRONG! My darling husband doesn’t quite understand why I feel that telling a lie in church is worse than saying it anywhere else, but he’s an atheist (or in my mother’s eye, a heathen LOL).

So why does a middle-aged woman put herself in this position? Well take a look at that gorgeous child’s face for a start ;) And because my beloved baby sister wants me to be godmother to her beautiful boys and how could I ever say no to that? While we've been through the motions of a conversation about the ethics/hyocrisy of me vowing something that isn’t true, it is very simple to her. She wants me to be a positive influence, provide her boys with unconditional love, be there to help them throughout their lives, always be there to care deeply. Easy peasy, I’m so there, I am committed to fulfilling the role my sister and brother-in-law want in the real world.

So I find myself silently “re-interpreting” archaic religious vows into a shadow of their former selves to appease my conscience. I won’t deny myself this role, this special place in their lives. But… it doesn’t sit easy. Maybe I’m kidding myself – perhaps I should just get over myself LOL, but when you’re standing in a hallowed place and feeling a bit like a little kid again and looking a priest straight in the eye while you say something you know to be untrue, well yikes! On the other hand, I found it charming that my girls got to light the christening candles, symbols of the light baby Noah shines on the world – that was uncomplicatedly lovely. And truly, is there anything that puts a bigger more contented smile on my face than holding a baby? (sigh)

Synchronicity, destiny and all things mundane

This is another gorgeous Carrie Young shot from our Christmas shoot – it’s my very favourite, yes even more so than all those divine images of the girls. I guess it’s just a matter of scarcity increasing value as always. You see I have so few pics of Andrew and certainly not many of us together (as a typical Mum, I spend most of my time behind the camera of course).

It is going in my album with a Goethe quote “When a wife has a good husband, it is easily seen in her face”. Because that is what I see, despite the cold and rain, how tired and disorganised I was that day, apparently all it takes is for this good man to embrace me and I am lit from within.

When I think of how our lives met, I am always struck by how very ordinary the choices are that lead to destiny, synchronicity, connections, paths, life. I came to Melbourne to go to university and was to live in a university residential college. As I would be attending a campus some distance from the college, my parents decided that I should live at the only college that offered sandwiches as a lunchtime option in addition to a cooked lunch on the college grounds. I met my husband-to-be, father-of-my-children, love of my life (little did I know this when I met him of course, he was seeing my volleyball team-mate at the time LOL) because of sandwiches… Our paths almost certainly wouldn’t have crossed otherwise. That’s all, sandwiches.

A slice of synchronicity,
a counterpoint of chance
turn a stale repast into
a feast of circumstance.

So go ahead & order a timely snack
At the universe-ity
Bring us here to this very day, this life
Of our own accord or conspiracy…

A good teacher is a gift that keeps on giving

It is amazing to witness and enjoy the gift of a good teacher. Sometimes it’s a delayed gift – one which you only recognize the value of after the teaching has finished. I was so happy to write this letter to our school principal last week.

I am compelled to write and let you know about an example of just what a positive impact a single year with an individual teacher can have on a student and the way they perceive themselves, their strengths and their weaknesses.

To set the scene, my daughter Kate has always been a confident reader and writer, but to my alarm, came home during her grade five year with “I’m crap at maths” written on her hand. And so began a mother’s campaign to turn around a negative mindset which had no basis in fact whatsoever. I only had limited success in convincing her that she did not have “a crap maths brain”, despite showing Kate her AIM tests, reports and other evidence to the contrary. It was of great concern to me that my daughter would fall prey to that old stereotypical attitude that girls can’t do maths.

When Kate and I attended our first parent/teacher interview with D, around this time last year, he suggested Kate do an “EYT” program in maths – I turned to her and commented that someone with a “crap maths brain” would not be considered for this (insert a tween eye roll here!). D was surprised to hear of Kate’s negative self-perception and let her know that it was his opinion that she had a fine maths brain. By the end of last year, Kate had earned her highest mark ever in Maths. David had obviously provided her with the opportunity and the encouragement to extend herself and she ran with it. Her teacher’s opinion and support reached her in a way that a mother simply could not.

However, the story doesn’t end with just a good report card - D’s gift goes beyond the Primary School gate. Kate had to fill in a questionnaire on starting at Melbourne Girls College and one of the questions asked was “what are you most proud of during primary school?” and her answer was simply “how much I improved in maths”. It is clearly a source of great pride to Kate that she has overcome her negative mindset and flourished as a young mathematician. She came home from school just yesterday and told me that maths is her favourite subject this year and that she is considered a “maths girl” in her class.

I am appreciative of the education and development Kate has experienced at NFPS which has contributed much to a happy and settled transition to secondary school life. However, the gift of helping change a child’s self-perception/self-assessment/self-confidence for the better goes way beyond mere preparation. I would like to acknowledge D’s valuable contribution here –and sincerely thank him for helping my daughter blossom even further.

It is as if he helped Kate let go of a negative belief and in doing so, released all this energy and passion. As if she just didn’t have the confidence to get behind herself and the self-belief to invest her energy in this direction. I spoke with D the day I sent the letter and he was glowing. As a second year teacher the note really meant a lot to him – he said he felt completely inspired and was so glad to be a teacher that day.

So if a teacher has made a difference in your child’s life – let her/him know. Oh, and let the principal know too ;)

So what would YOU do with half a dozen party hats?

The joy of living with Sophie..... it started off with a penguin beak and off she went LOL

Not my own work (well except the genes...)

Ha, no prizes for guessing I’m not responsible for these divine pics LOL

I am exceptionally lucky to have genius friends who create things of beauty – jewellery, clothes, hair accessories (with 3 long-haired girls, just LOVE hair accessories) and of course, photography. My darling friend Carrie came over for a Victorian family Christmas and managed to squeeze in a photo shoot for us. Ole Murphy was obviously feeling a bit grinchy because it was the coldest, wildest, wettest, stormiest, floodiest day of the year (HATE ridiculous, unpredictable Melbourne sometimes), my troops were in disarray, I do believe I was still in my nightie when she walked in! LOL

Fortunately for me, Carrie has the patience of a saint managing with aplomb the cold and wet; a whinging tween (I believe Andrew’s response was “suck it up Princess” – a phrase that I’ve helped myself to ever since); and an 8yo who really just wanted to stick her tongue out. I had low expectations of what anyone could produce out of a morning like that…

… until Carrie worked her magic and somehow turned an ordinary shoot into something quite extraordinary. Moments of connection, the fun spirit my girls share together, how happy I am in my husband’s arms (who hasn’t had his photo taken this many times since our wedding day LOL) and what a natural Dad he is.

So, if you’d like to share, Carrie has generously let me show off her stunning works of art - http://carrieyoung.com/index2.php , click on clients and type in 221207 as the password to see the slideshow.