A big family day out – with video

On Saturday we had a big family day out, and I have the sore muscles to prove it. We decided it was time to make a home video, having last done one in about 2004.  Lucia was a bit miffed that the only proper home video we have pre-dates her existence, so Andrew turned to Google and planned a host of activities for the day. Read more of this post

Ode to Les Mills (in haiku)

This is a bit silly – I felt like experimenting with the haiku and the gym was starting to give me little bursts of inspiration…Might try iambic pentameter next time… Read more of this post

Road work interruptus, and schoolboy rugby brawls

On my way to work along the Auckland north-western motorway each day, I see a road sign that advises of impending road works. All of last week, it read “Road Works Past Gillies Ave from Monday 17 August”. Come Monday, it had changed to “Road Works Past Gillies Ave from Tuesday 18 August”. I started to feel sceptical. Sure enough, this morning the sign read “Road Works Past Gillies Ave from 24 August.” Fear not, dear reader, when 24 August arrives I will let you know the next random-and-doomed-to-remain-unfulfilled date that appears.

***

Bur first, a word on schoolboy rugby brawls. Actually, two words: who cares? On Sunday, the national television news programme I watch led with an item about two “top schools” having a brawl at a rugby game. The issue was debated on national radio programmes on Monday morning. The Herald website is still wittering on about it today, two days later. So there was a fight at the end of a school boy rugby game. Whoopee. Move on, media! Can this really be so important? You can guarantee that if the fight took place at two low decile schools in South Auckland, or perhaps anywhere else in the country, no-one outside the sports ground it took place on would know, or care. But because one school is Auckland Grammar, and the All Blacks coach Graham Henry happened to be there, somehow this becomes a story of national significance?  I think not.

The religion dilemma

I don’t believe in God.  And thats fine, as far as it goes – I’m the only one who could possibly suffer from that position, and even then, only if I’m wrong.  But what about my children?  Should I teach them about God, or should I not? Read more of this post

Dear oh dear, a six year old in crisis

The six year old in our house has been a wee bit naughty of late.  Nothing serious, just ignoring almost every instruction she is given, and generally living in a world of her own.  Last night when she was being especially willful I got a bit shouty and cross, and she burst into tears (as she does at the drop of a hat these days) and told me: “When I was a baby I thought that when I grew up my life would be better than this!”

I mean really, she has stepped back and evaluated her life and decided, on the whole, that its rather average.  And she is six.

I’m at a bit of a loss really, she has a bloody fantastic life by any measure, and is generally perfectly happy.  But at the moment the slightest bit of parental input (for example “pick up your shoes”) is met with monumental resistance.   If we press the point, she might go and pick up the shoes, or she might descend into a trough of existential despair.  Surely this shouldn’t be happening for another six or seven years?

Kiri Te Kanawa makes an impression

This morning, because their daddy was away, the girls joined me in bed for half an hour before we all got up. As we lay listening to the morning news on the radio, the beautiful sound of Dame Kire Te Kanawa in full song flooded the room, introducing a story about her imminent retirement from the world of opera. The girls instantly fell silent, mesmerised by her voice. “That music is REALLY REALLY in our house” murmered Lulu eventually. She’s only four, so she doesn’t always know how to express her amazement at something. But she expressed it very well with her next words. When the music stopped, she said “That music came from my heart”. Sweet. I’d better download some Kiri from iTunes, she has a new fan.

Happy Birthday Lulu

So, my wee baby is four, and although it sort of makes me sad to see her growing up, I’m so proud of the beautiful little girl she has become.  Lulu is the easiest person in the world to love, and I fell in love with her the minute she was born.  It was a speedy birth, the labour lasting only three and a half hours.  When she emerged she paused before crying briefly, and then rested quietly on my chest, peering blurrily around the room.  After she was cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket, we settled her in the bassinet next to my bed, and she lay quietly taking the world in. Read more of this post

The Worst Day of Her Life

Today is officially The World Day of Madeleine’s Life and obviously it is Entirely My Fault. According to her at least.

After six and a half years of watching her suck her fingers (rather than her thumb) and about two years of watching her bite her fingernails (and toe nails!  eww), I decided she was never going to stop of her own volition, so went to a pharmacy and bought something to paint on her fingers to stop her.

She cried so hard at the prospect of no longer sucking her fingers that I relented and said we’d start with the other eight fingernails, and  get to the two calloused, over-sucked fingers later.

Within ten minutes she had not only got the foul tasting liquid I’d painted on her nails in her mouth, she had also rubbed it into her eyes.  Tears flowed freely, which probably helped rinse the eyes out.  I gave her apple to take away the taste, but then the flavor got on the apple as well.  I cut it into small pieces and gave her a a cake fork to eat it with, and then she somehow managed to transfer the liquid onto the top of her water bottle.  Which she was frantically drinking from to get rid of the horrible taste she’d got from her fingers… The tears were still flowing freely but were not helping at all.

At this point she screamed at me that this was The Worst Day of Her Life.     I told her it was The Right Thing To Do, and she yelled back that she wished it was The Wrong Thing To Do.  I am officially a Bad Mother, I think.

A reformed film-goer: I love the RomCom

I used to love dark and moody films that explored the very heart of the human condition.  If I came out of a cinema with mascara streaked everywhere, having used up every tissue in my handbag, and possibly even having sobbed so loudly I’d actually disturbed other theatre-goers, I generally felt I’d seen a good film.  Read more of this post

One month ’til spring!

Yes, that very much reflects my mood.  Its been winter.  For a loooong time.  Or at least it feels like it has.  Our household got credit crunched this year, so no week in Fiji for us, just a week in sunny Bulls.  :-)  It was lovely spending a week with family, and to be fair the whole country got snap frozen like a bag of Watties peas that particular week, but it has to be said, I’m a little weary of winter. 

So, the impending start of spring, on 1 September, cannot come soon enough.  Read more of this post