Busy

Today began at a civilised hour - there was a 7 on the clock - which is amazing given that in the last week we've said goodbye to daylight savings and hello to big girl beds. Not that it mattered as I had visits from all three of my girls in the night, so it was a broken one to say the least. Wednesday is a preschool day so there are three girls to wrangle into slippers and dressing gowns, three to negotiate breakfast with, three to talk into clothing and shoes, three lunches to pack and three little lunches (but only one crunch'n'sip). Three backpacks with three changes of clothes. Three hats in case the sun comes out, three jackets in case it gets cold - and you can guarantee both will be required. Three drink bottles to find and fill. Three heads of unruly wild curls to brush. Three hairstyles to discuss and action.

In amidst it all I try to make myself barely presentable with a quick shower, clean clothes, a smooshing of moisturiser and some mascara to make my pale, pale lashes look less translucent. A cup of tea if I'm lucky. Breakfast very occasionally. Today I tried to get clever and put a pot of milk on to heat thinking I could get some yoghurt happening. I watched the thermometer between wiping down tables and wiping down noses. It hit 90 and I turned off the flame and walked away to shout some orders.

I filled the car with girls and bags and made the trip into town to preschool, leaving one kid in tears and another on the verge, racing away before it all became a flood. I hit the road to Goulburn for a last-minute catch-up with a lovely Canberra friend. It was a window before I was tied down with school holidays and before she gave birth to her second baby, and we grabbed it to sit in the sun and drink coffee and talk. I ignored my massive to-do list and the fact it was the last day in three weeks with all my children out of the house, and just sank into all the loveliness that comes from time with good friends.

On the return trip, I remembered the milk on the stove.

I picked up my pair, their cuddles and love making everything that's ever happened anywhere to anyone completely worthwhile. We drove on to collect their big sister from school, and beamed with golden sunshiney pride as she showed off the award she won at assembly "for being a focused and hardworking student." Bless.

We raced home to change some shoes and throw crackers and bananas in a bag (and tip two litres of sour milk down the drain) and raced out for soccer training. I scrambled for cash to buy the requisite socks and shorts in time for this Saturday's inaugural match. Little sisters got bored and started clawing at each other. There was screaming. The sun got lower and the temperature dropped. We finally returned home and shovelled easy food into little faces while I prepared and cooked a couple of recipes that have to be photographed tomorrow. Babes were bathed. Dishes were washed (in the sink, of all places - our dishwasher is on the blink). Stories were read and lullabies sung.

I look at the to-do list which isn't shrinking. I try to ignore the overflowing washing basket, the crumbs under the table, the ring around the bathtub. I think how lovely it would be for one of these weeks to chance along and I wonder how it's all going to come together. But at this time of night, when my girls are sleeping and all is quiet, I look at an award taking pride of place on the fridge door. I catch a glimpse of a messy scrawl of preschool paint on a piece of cardboard and notice the row of Ps across the top. P for Pearl. I remember the loveliness of sitting in the sun enjoying uninterrupted conversation. I thank God that every day isn't Wednesday. And I know it will be OK.

A Visit from the Queen

I've mentioned my dealer before. In other circles she goes by the name of the Craft Queen. Every time I see her, she hands over a bag or two of booty. This week she paid us a visit, and she didn't disappoint.

I've known the Craft Queen, aka Nicole, since high school. Craft runs in her veins. She grew up in a gingerbread house adorned wall to floor by her incredibly crafty mother. Together they would patchwork and scrapbook and quilt the days away. No teenager had a tidier, more beautifully decorated room. There was a running joke that our friend Ollo avoided coming to visit because he was afraid that while he was inside sipping tea and passing the time of day, Nicole's mum would be outside decoupaging his car. It never happened, but it would've been bloody good.

I've used Craft Queen buttons on many of my handknits - see here and here and here and here. Her wooden and coconut buttons are my favourite, but I think I'll be trying out some of the new Fimo ones soon. She also supplies an enormous range of ribbons and papercraft supplies, and there's a huge shipment of washi tape on its way.

My girls had a wonderful couple of days entertaining, and being entertained by, the Craft Queen. Lola has very happily taken on the Craft Princess title, disappearing into her room and her restocked craft cupboard to make stuff. Last I looked, there was a pair of cardboard spectacles and a new cuddly toy called Fluff.

Disclosure: The Craft Queen didn't ask me to write this post, and while she does provide me with an endless supply of buttons and ribbons, she didn't pay me either. She did, however, 'accidentally' leave two huge tins of home-baked biscuits on my kitchen bench which I discovered long after she'd skipped town...

43 Degrees

This time last year, I was bemoaning the chilly summer days in our new country home, wondering if we'd ever be properly warm again. After the past few weeks, I realise that dead-of-winter cold isn't the only thing this region does well. 

A pre-planned trip to Sydney with my girls meant we were in the big city for yesterday's outrageous 43-degree day. It also meant we inadvertently avoided a "catastrophic fire danger" in our village.

We kept cool with a trip to the aquarium, a splash in a water park, and easy time and catch-ups in the air-conditioned kitchens of friends. Oh, how I love to while away time in the kitchens of friends, cup of coffee or glass of wine in front of me, children playing happily (or otherwise) nearby.

I had a fright in the middle of the day, a text message from a local friend saying there was a fire on our street. I imagined the worst. I've seen the news for enough summers in this country. 

It was a grass fire, quickly contained, a couple of blocks from our home. A near escape. Others haven't been so lucky. Thank goodness for the cool change today.

Lunch Date

Yesterday I drove up the Hume Highway, blissfully alone, to meet a friend and her sweet baby for lunch. It was a last-minute opportunity to catch up before Christmas, and at last a chance to check out the much-hyped Grounds of Alexandria.

We were tucked into a corner of the heaving restaurant where we ordered cooling ginger beers and delectable salads. The littlest of our party generously shared her fries with me. Later, we took coffee and cakes out into the rambling garden so she could play.

How lovely it was to pass a few hours in good company, eating the freshest food and drinking perfect, proper coffee. Ah, Sydney, some things you do very well indeed. 

Rowantree Design

I met lots of lovely people at The Nursery back in August. One of them was Roberta, the incredibly talented woman behind Rowantree Design. Roberta was 'lucky' enough to score a lift to our outdoor shoot in my shockingly filthy car, and polite enough not to comment! Not only is she an international jet-setter, stylist, sailor of yachts and hands-on grandmother to her gorgeous Rowan, but she designs and creates the most beautiful vintage-inspired children's clothes. I was thrilled when a package arrived in the post last week with two sweet little dresses for Pearl and Stella. The quality is amazing and the fabric so pretty. How lucky are we?

As you can see, the girls are quite pleased with their gift. Thanks, Roberta. 

Check out her blog here, and her shop here. Go on, she's having a giveaway at the moment. You don't want to miss that.

Bits and Pieces

We had 10 house guests on Saturday night, a Christmas in July celebration with very good friends and beautiful kids. The weekend before, another lovely friend and her babe stayed a few nights. In the lead-up to that, a colleague was here in our house for six days in a row, training the GM and I on some new software for work. And prior to that, it was school holidays and all the fifth birthday celebrations. 

It's been a busy July.

As the calendar turns, I'm feeling a change in the wind and the call of quiet. We're over the hump of winter, our first since making the big country move. It's been cold, we've burnt a lot of wood, but we've been fine - far finer than I feared we'd be. And just around the corner is spring and all it promises in the garden. One of the reasons for this move was to have more space to grow food. It's time to talk seeds and mulch.

I'm starting August with a glorious gift to myself, a day learning about photography with Tim Coulson. I'm only just a tiny, weeny bit excited!!!

And then, brace yourselves...and pray for me if that's your thing...it's time to toilet-train. I've been putting it off till the weather warms up and the trainees are wearing fewer layers every day. And frankly, I've been struggling to find the energy or will. But they are ready, practically begging for it, and we have an overseas holiday at the end of the year, so it's time. If anyone has ever toilet-trained twins, your advice is completely welcome.

So, next month we'll be staying home, drawing our focus in, perhaps doing a bit of pre-spring spring cleaning, clearing out some clutter (yes, this book is speaking to me) and giving the washing machine and disinfectant bottle a workout. 

And knitting. Always knitting.

The Dealer

I had a coffee with my dealer today. My button dealer. She's an old school friend and she runs this amazing online business. These days, whenever we catch up, she passes a little ziplock baggie across the table filled with some sort of sample for me. My button and ribbon jars are getting very full as a result.

A parcel arrived in the mail recently from another old school friend. This one's a very talented photographer based in Brisbane. She has patiently watched me wrangle my lovely DSLR and offered advice and tips along the way. Now, thanks to this lovely gift, I'm a hundred miles away from where I was a few days ago, if not in results, at least in comprehension. And I've been using the manual exposure switch! And now I know why that little line jumps left and right! And where it should be! It's exciting stuff.

Thanks, lovely pair of old school friends.

Get Better Soon

Just about the cutest thing to ever land in our mailbox - a picture of Lola on her verandah by her friend Scarlett to say "Get better soon." 

This is making me insanely happy and thinking I should get my pom pom on. Beautiful and hilarious.

This has me thinking, thinking, thinking, wondering if I could do it. And ultimately drawing the big country move closer and closer.

South for the Winter

'Twas a combination of all things good. Melbourne, a city I love, a city I have had so many fabulous shopping- and food-fuelled weekends in, a city I could live in if the stars aligned and I stopped making excuses. And friends. Dear women friends who go back many years and with which I share such a wonderful, creative, nurturing bond.

We worked out that it had been eight years since our last and original Melbourne sojourn. Some months previous, Aimee and I decided it might be fun to write and produce a musical. A musical about yoga. And why not perform it at the upcoming Melbourne Fringe Festival (it was 2003, I think). Easy-peasy, nothing to it. We gathered a pair of performer friends and an amazing production manager and launched ourselves in. Such bravado. Such naivety.

Within the space of a few months we'd written a play, complete with songs, and rehearsed it up in readiness for the festival. We tackled major roadblocks like they were mini-humps in the path. One conversation went something along the lines of - AMANDA: "I've just got the forms here for the festival. It says we need a venue and dates before we can register." ME: "Shit. I thought they provided all that." AIMEE: "Can you make a few calls, Amanda?" And that afternoon it was all in place. Venue booked, dates firmed, commitment in stone.

It was exhausting stuff, and I won't say we produced a masterpiece, but it was a great learning curve, our audiences had a few belly laughs, and it was enough of a success that we took it back into production for the Adelaide Fringe the following year. Four stars, baby, four stars.

The upshot of it all wasn't glittering careers in the arts, names up in lights, writing contracts, Tony awards. We didn't even manage to find a Sydney venue willing to give us a go. But what we had was an amazing experience undampened by the wisdom we gained from that experience, if that makes sense. We didn't know how hard it was to do so we just did it. I really should apply these lessons in everyday life...

Anyway, one of us has recently moved back to Melbourne from London, and another was back in Sydney for a few weeks from her new home in Hong Kong, so we decided a reunion was in order. Flights were booked, accommodation at Chateau Uncle was arranged, car seats and bassinets for the two small babies that would be accompanying us was hired. The itinerary included a bit of shopping, a lot of eating and then a bit more eating.

In the eight years since we were last in Melbourne together, there have been three weddings (with another around the corner) and six babies, two overseas moves and a couple of interstate ones. We may not be lighting up the stage with our creative genius but we're running homes and businesses, making families, production managing lives busier than we ever imagined they would be. And how lovely to take a tiny break from those lives, gather together and breathe for a couple of days. 


And vodka at breakfast was a nice touch...for old times' sake.

these moments

When people ask, "How have you been?" I usually answer, "Busy." But this past couple of weeks we have been really busy. Insanely busy. Silly busy.

It's school holidays and, therefore, preschool holidays. So on top of last week's birthday fun, there have been play dates, park visits, winter indoor swims, movies, other people's birthday parties, house guests, a girls' night out and a date with a garbageman. And much, much more. 

A dear friend is in town from overseas so we've had lots of get-togethers and catch-ups. Then my oldest friend came to stay from Queensland with two of her four kids. That's sweet new Olive down there in the photo. Best house guest ever! So in the space of a week, I finally got to meet two of my new babies - recipients of this and this.

And after communing with so many other kids in such a short space of time, all with Lola's requisite long-drawn-out "cuddle and a kiss" goodbyes, it seems she's been incubating a bit of a chicken pox virus and no doubt spreading the love. Itchy days ahead. And an unexpected extension of the school holidays.

The Group

By all accounts, mothers' groups can be a bit hit-and-miss. I can understand why - it's a bunch of hormone-fuelled, sleep-deprived, often hysterical women having very recently undergone an enormous, incredibly emotional life change, all in a room together with any number of screaming babies and boobs ahoy. In the midst of something as big as new motherhood, finding people going through exactly the same thing can be affirming, empowering, even lifesaving. But it can also be a lesson in destructive compare-and-contrast, judgement and bitchiness. And the mere fact of having babies exactly the same age can't always win out if the women are people you have nothing else in common with.

My mothers' group, I'm pleased to say, was all hit. We started as a group of maybe a dozen, which soon whittled itself down to about half that size. A couple have moved out of town but keep in touch. And the remaining four of us have become firm friends - friends of the regular girls' night out, morning play date, Thursday afternoon coffee and whinge, Australia Day barbecue.

This weekend we marked our fourth anniversary, as our babies all turn four in the coming weeks. We met, as we have in previous years, over coffee and cake in the park, and watched our not-so-little kids, and lots of new additions, frolic in the winter sunshine. They're a gorgeous bunch, and I had a fleeting teary moment as six nearly four-year-olds ran screaming across a lawn (chased by a horrible ogre), remembering us all sitting, bleary-eyed, in the community health centre with our newborns in our arms.

We met once a week for four weeks, formal gatherings hosted by a jaded community nurse who had long lost the ability to look interested as a group of women asked the same bunch of questions and told the same stories she'd obviously heard a million times before. When I was pregnant, I hadn't even thought I'd join a mothers' group. I didn't think it was my kind of thing. However, when I was discharged from hospital, I was swept along on the ride that is the efficient, well-resourced local area health system. I was visited at home by a midwife who offered to sign me up and I thought, "What the heck." 

From such blase beginnings, my Tuesday mornings soon became the highlight of my week. We moved from the community centre to a local cafe where the laid-back owner let us lounge over a single latte for hours, and provided floor mats, and eventually a playpen and highchairs, for the babies. He was heartbroken when, after a year, those Tuesday get-togethers ended as several of us returned to full-time work.

Most of us were professional working women in our mid to late 30s and married, though we did have a single mother, a new stay-at-homer - even, in the early days, a lesbian. There was cultural diversity - our kids had Greek, Korean, Indonesian and English grandparents. It seemed like a typical inner-west Sydney mix.

We were, formally, a 'new parents' group, and several dads were regular participants. They quickly became used to all the "vagina talk", as we called it, and knew when to wander off to order another coffee. I'm not sure how involved the were in the running tally we kept regarding who would lose their postpartum 'virginity' first. Suffice to say, the dads have formed a strong group too over park playdates and beer nights.

I feel blessed to have this group in my life - blessed for our adult friendships and those of our kids. I remember turning up to our Tuesday morning gathering less than a week after my mum died. Looking back now, it seems a bit odd. I was probably supposed to be holed up at home wallowing. But at the time I didn't want to be anywhere else. I wanted normal. I wanted these women, coffee, babies, conversation, crying, laughter. x

Deluxe Set

Things making me smile in recent days:

:: This glorious late Mother's Day present sitting on my desk awaiting many, many uses;

:: Lovely girlfriends, great Lebanese food, sore throats from all the talking...and a slightly sore head the next day;

:: The Garbageman in an Elvis suit;

:: Snuggling with a newborn...and watching a dear friend falling in love with her baby;

:: Another dear friend's big announcement and the anticipation of a fabulous wedding.

Mountains

I took my littlest girl on a trip to the Blue Mountains today to meet an even littler girl - five-week-old Edie.

She's quite lovely, a perfect, snuggly koala. Note her beautiful green vest.

We had lunch, drank coffee, wandered through the shops, drank more coffee.

It was all too much for some.