So Proud. . .

My enormous Orpington Bad Jelly laid her first egg today.

I know it looks like I'm throttling her, but it's actually a cuddle full of love and admiration.

Emptiness:

Toastiness:

Familiness:

I sat behind the cooker, and discovered toasted marshmallows taste much better untoasted. But of course, they're not so much fun.

Grateful

There's a pretty sombre mood in the air at the mo, and lots of feeling grateful for what you have, every time you take a shower, flush the loo, and cuddle your children close in fact. On top of that we cleared out our shop, which was also a fairly final and strange feeling. After all that it was really good to head out to an expansive beach.

With beer. Ahhh.

The Arms Race

Remember this? So much for the this-is-a-nice-family-no-weapon-policy. Bunce turned up today, with this:

Seriously. Is this how most aged grandparents spend the evening?

He was pretty happy though eh? Maniacally so even. Nah, I don't mean the eight-year-old one,

I mean this one:

And also looking pretty cool. Until P5 worried about foam bullets hurting his head, because let's face it, it doesn't have a high protection factor, so she lent him her gnome hat.

Not even a stonkingly big gun can make you look cool when you are wearing a gnome hat.

Cutest Boy In My Universe

in his new karate jammies. Self-directed pose.

Clearly those hands are now registered lethal weapons.

The World Turns To Knickers

I hope it isn't flippant to post when so many in Christchurch are still in such crisis, and our thoughts are with them.

It's funny how the perspective of children is so skewed, and so refreshing. Yesterday was a huge day for New Zealand with such a devastating quake, but P5 will remember it because she had school swimming and she forgot to take her knickers off before changing into her togs. Isn't that the stuff of all our insecurity nightmares? She got out of the pool and discovered she had no dry knickies, but luckily she has made a nice friend, who went to ask the teacher for some spares.

This morning when I got up I found her sitting on her bed, putting knickers on all her toys.

Processing. There's lots of that going on around the country.

Eep!

No picture from here today. Just thinking of the people in Christchurch. Scary.

18 Months Change

Had absolutely nothing to blog about, so I decided to whinge about my useless garden this year. Took this pic:


to show you my miniscule tomatoes. Where even are they?? Usually by this time they are monsters growing all over the steps. Maybe it's because I didn't water them this year? So how come the strawbs are overrunning the show then?

Anyway, then I looked back on the computer to find the deck when we moved in pictures, and OMG, blow me away but look!



Forget the hideous deck - check out that house??! Ewwwww. Now a pic on a humid but dark evening from almost the same spot looks like this:



I think that's the aerial you can almost see at the top left. So y'know, now I have that comparison? I'm loving my garden again.

Fingerless Knits

Having L8 home sick from school on Wednesday gave me the excuse to sit and knit, which I can't seem to do when everyone is out schooling and working. I made one of these that day, and finished the other yesterday.
I think if she likes them, they might just be a present for M15? You wanna see them the other way up though eh? (Tat-scuse!)


Am feeling very accomplished because this morning, with a bit of a seedy hangover from a late night and the annoying one glass of wine too many, I managed with only one false start to do my very first cabling.
Like everything in knitting I used to think ewwww. . . why would anyone do that, it's so UGLY?! But now that I know how much fun it is, it's looking prettier all the time.

Bits In The Life Of A Five Year Old

P5 drew coconut trees




pulled off the chili I grew and hid it



(in a nerf gun, see?)


and let our friend T French plait her "Barbie hair" before bed.

Two Pics For Mutti

It's Friday afternoon.

L8 has the giggles.

P5 is drinking Quik.

Words

I was listening to the song Leslie, by King Creosote on ipod as I walked up the road. I suddenly realised I had the lyrics wrong.

It wasn't a particularly sunny day nor fine
And a dozen little problems kept me more than occupied
Until I rounded the Hope Park Holy Wall
And looked ahead to find her in the way
Grinning like a misbehaving child
Could I talk of anything and what did I replied to
I think I mumbled something hunger wise
My insides eating up the butterflies that kept hunger at bay
And my nerves were playing crazy buggers with my sense of style

Throw me round and down
Before I fall
11am soon became 1am of the next day
And it seems I've spent some 20 years
Just gazing at her face
And in her eyes she seemed to know me
Seemed to search into my soul
Throw me round and down
Before I fall

For some reason I always thought he said "mumbled something under-wise" which isn't really a word, but I think I prefer it.

But then for years I thought The Stone Roses sang

"I wanna be a dog" rather than "I wanna be adored"

which is really not so flash.

I'm just waffling about this stuff to stop me skiting about my lovely daughter. (Grandparents can ring and I'll share!)

Felted

Yesterday I felted my bowl. It turned out kinda odd, but is absolutely functional for homespun yarn storage.



Yes, when they saw it this morning drying on the breakfast table, my family totally took the pi$$.

L8 wasn't being supportive on the homemade bowl front by refusing a hat pic - he just slept in.

Giving Up Gracefully

Remember this lovely shawl I was gonna make:
http://anakedplural.blogspot.com/2010/11/wagging-and-lots-of-work.html

Well I'm not. I officially give up. I just went back to find the post to let you know I was a hopeless quitter and I pretty much got the giggles when I read:

"I was a tad concerned when I remembered my last 2 ply effort. It um. . . never got past row 2 and ended up as plying yarn for spinning adventures. But this will I'm sure. I've blogged it, so it has to, see?"

Because that new 2 ply effort? Also got to row two and stalled and is now some lovely plying yarn. I've blogged quitting now, so I have to, see?

Still I made myself about 190 metres of handspun alpaca which I plied with the 2 ply merino and now I have something squishy and soft as soft, rather over-plied as always (I can't balance it. I must need a lesson.) but just right for a pair of fingerless gloves. Or a hat. Or something else seasonally inappropriate.

I'm not sure why my walls are so garish, but my spinning is always so muted.

That's muted, not mutant, okay?

I'm Exempt

I've long been allergic to homework. Never did my own at high school, and always vowed my children wouldn't have to at primary school. Readers are exempt (reading has got to be good) and I've put up with spelling (6 words? Meh.) but today L8 came home with his very first year 4 homework. The ubiquitous photocopy sheet from a homework book - no relevance to what they are learning, no proven increase in actual um. . . learning.

But since he did it in less than 10 minutes with no help at all? I've decided to pick my battles and let this one go. For now.

I also pretty much let Valentines go, then had a sudden brainwave and bought Blokey Husband some Valentines undies. Nope, not shiny polyester with red devils on, just daily undies since I've been throwing all the worn out ones away now I've become a Domestic Goddess with 6 hours a day to positively housewife (yes, that's my new verb).

How relieved are y'all with that pic?

In the kidspeak realm, we ended up chatting at dinner about the word 'dictation' so I explained it to L&P, and went on to talk about dictators. Democracy versus dictatorship and all. Because I was having a good mummy moment. Until P5 piped up:

"So. . . um, you [points piercing finger at me] are our dictator."

Eep. Um, no. Maybe?

The Thirteenth Of Feb

It is our wedding anniversary today. We kinda forgot to do anything about it, but yesterday in the supermarket we met the wife of the celebrant who married us. Haven't seen her for years, but the very first thing she said was "it's your anniversary tomorrow". Freak me out some people are organised. Or she enjoyed the boat trip a lot.

We had a five-year-old birthday party to go to, but we also managed to fit in a visit to the skate park, and a drink out watching Blokey Husband's friends who play on a Sunday at a local cafe.

Nine years down, and still counting.

Stolen Coolness

I have to admit I'm a little bit in love with Gala Darling, partly because of her shoe thing. I only found her a few weeks ago, and today in good NZ fashion, I discovered that there are only two degrees of separation between us. Life's a bit odd like that.

Also Blokey Husband says having fried haloumi for pudding, when you have already had it on your meat and your salad, is gross. That's just disappointing that is.

Spot What?

On staring last night I made two discoveries. First, the tattoo lady made her template from the draft, not the final artwork. My fault. Kinda funny that I didn't bother to think about it. Ask me to organise a party? I'm a nervous jittery wreck, over-thinking everything. Ask me to sort some life-long skin marking? Meh, whatever. Don't check the details.

Secondly, the tattooist missed out two dots. Did you spot it?

Now I'm torn between going with that thing that Bunce told me about Persian carpets never being perfect because only God creates perfection, so they put in a mistake on purpose. My friend Sharon tells me that the Amish do this with quilts too, and also it makes a very good spot-the-difference puzzle for the kids. What's more my Doppelganger says she'd leave it as is, and well, she's practically me anyway, so I don't really need to decide eh? But just in case it gives me the heebie-jeebies I have an appointment to fix it up. Mid-March. Recession obviously not phasing the tattoo business. Whaddya reckon? Shall I bother to fix it?

In other news, we found an iphone app for Catholic confession. How much do I want to spend the US$2.49 to buy that? A lot.

Cheaper Than A Sports Car, Less Trouble Than An Affair, Here's. . .

the mid-life crisis tattoos!

Like all good mummies I spent the morning baking blueberry muffins in colourful patty pans

before heading off to the tattoo parlour.

I could go on about how symbolic they are - both children now off to school, the date the tattoo was supposed to happen was yesterday, 9th Feb, which coincidentally was also my due date for both my babies. Just like my babies, they didn't arrive on time though, with the tattooist postponing my appointment until today.

It's not true anyway. I just wanted something pretty. Decorative is good. I have been waiting (and bleating to you - sorry!) for a good couple of years to get my act together, so tonight I'm a very happy, if slightly bruised and swollen, girlie. Can surely get away with the tutu skirt now?

I love that they really don't match, as they weren't designed as a pair. I was just indecisive, and liked both designs so much that I went with two rather than one.

Here's some more detail - not sure why my arms look different colours.

Probably just a touch of gangrene setting in.

Cleaning Perks

Wow, this being a SAHM thing entails so much housewifely stuff you wouldn't believe. Like cleaning. And tidying. I'm finding it really weird.

So I tidied L8's room and found a sealed envelope addressed to Santa Claus. His school is smart - they write one that gets posted and one to take home. Handy, if you need to know what to get them. Not handy, if your son refuses to let you open it because he's already sent a copy away, so why would you need to read it? Fortunately, since I discovered it in his midden, he will never think of it again, so today I did what all nosey mums do, and opened it.

Luckily it was very cute, because every time I actually saw him today? Well, he was vile. Sorry overtired. Nah, just yuck.

Anyway, for posterity and all, this is what it said:

Dear Santa,

How many letters are you receiving I think you would have at least 100. How are you. I hope everyone is happy. My name is Luka. I look forward to Christmas. Please may I have some Dr Who. I have the Dalek Collection and the Cyberman Collection, also I have the Long Game and Father's Day. Because I like Dr Who. My favourite Dr is the 10 Dr.

Best wishes.

Bit of a geek. Spent this evening reading the dictionary.

Told ya.

Bedtime Stories

Since she came out of a cot, P5 has been sleeping happily in the teddy bear bed that her cousin and brother once loved.

But over the last six months or so her feet have been far too close to the end, and although it was hard to say goodbye to the teddy, she really needed a proper bed.

Two weekends ago we found one that both she and L8 fell in love with, and bought it. Fiiiiiiinally, today we got the call that it was ready to pick up.

Flat. Not just flat - this bed had more pieces than a bloody lego bed I swear. It was 6 o'clock (an hour before bedtime) and the new bed looked like this:

and this:

and another whole box too. Oh, and this:

Pinky just lay down and gave up man. Slacker.

But eventually emerged . . . a bed for a girl with no wardrobe in her room. A bed with storage!

And if you look closely on the bottom right, you can see why both children call this the best bed in the world. I would call it space for a spare mattress.

They call it a hidey hole.