Stuff Happens

Remember the other week when I wrote about what was happening for our little family? About the childcare woes, the distinct lack of village, and the big changes?

A few people commented on here and over on Facebook, imploring me to ask some mums. After all, what was the worst thing that could happen? They could say no.

I sat on it for a few days feeling really, absolutely awkward.

Then I bit the bullet and contacted a few mums that I vaguely knew from dropping the kids off to their houses. I asked them if they could look after our smalls one afternoon a week, for the next two terms. I told them they had no obligation.

And then I waited for them to respond. The three all responded saying they'd love to help, but of the three, one logistically couldn't do it. But the other two said YES! And one asked if we could look after their daughter before school. Of course we said YES!

Things have worked out well. Well, so far so good. We won't know until we're in the thick of it. But for now, I feel so much happier with this place we are at.

Thank you for empowering me to ask. Thank you. Thank you.

images - because I love them - by Spanish artist Lola Guerrera via Design for Mankind

I'm Famous! (Also Known As: What To Do In The School Holidays)

Tiny has a fascination with being famous at the moment. I'm not altogether convinced she quite grasps the idea of being famous, but when something good happens she'll jump up and down and shout: "I'm famous, I'm famous." And then she does a funny little jig and continues her chant.

It's cute rather than being precocious. Well I can say that, I am her mama.

Last weekend we got to tread the charcoal swirly carpet to view a preview of Brave. (Almost famous.) There was highland dancing, bagpipers, face painting, and then of course - the movie.The smalls were in utopia.

Brave is all about a teenage girl-princess, Merida, growing up in Scotland. It involves bows and arrows, haggis, bears, and a witchy woodworker. We found it pretty enchanting. Tiny got scared at one point and climbed onto my lap - and then continued to rave about Brave after we got home.

I loved listening to Billy Connelly and Emma Thompson breathing life into their characters. And the gags that went over the kid's heads.

The smalls loved the adventure, the story, the action and the excitement. For us, it's school holiday viewing recommended. And basically, since I need all the help I can get for school holidays - I'm going to continue this week with some more school holiday worthy ideas that you might like.

Or are you going away somewhere warm? And in that case - take. me. with. you.

PottyMouthMama: Reporting For Domestic Duty

This weekend was going to be all about me being a domestic goddess and surpassing my motherly duties. Ticking every box and getting a gold star. 


And do you think that happened?


Er. A little.


I had plans to tidy the whole house. To ditch all the junk hovering around our house. It's mounting. In piles. In bags. In boxes. And I can't seem to get on top of it. Well wait - I can get on top of it, I can lie on top of it, I just can't control it. 


I was going to get wildly domestic in the kitchen. I had grand aspirations.


Instead Saturday I had a wee hangover, and shuffled around the house like a hermit crab. What kind of young player am I? 


I did sort out some clothes. I did bake choc chip cookies. 


And tonight, Matt went out to do some painting, while I stayed at home - and thought - yes! I will make pasta. Then it all went to poo. I was rolling pasta, I had the water bubbling away - the pasta was rolling, rolling, too long to hold in both my hands - I felt like Big Anthony out of Strega Nona. Pasta everywhere. I finally got it into the pot and kept rolling out extra pasta - and then the pasta went bloaty and gluggy. Poor pasta.


So the smalls wound up with toast and baked beans for dinner. 


And then I hurried them through dinner, tucked them into bed and felt irate with myself for being such a grump. 

Make Kony Famous: Kony 2012

Ther'es nothing more powerful than an idea.
Get involved. Let's make this revolution happen.
Get on Twitter, share it on Facebook, yell it from the rooftops, plaster it up on your local walls, chat around your water cooler.

Working. And What Does This Mean?

I've been giving it much consideration lately - I was formerly a stay at home mum (SAHM) - and found it immensely tiring, but in the same breath - immensely satisfying. You got to see the outcome of what you put in, and, for me, that was my proudest achievement. Daily you reaped rewards in the form of sticky cuddles, sloppy, wet kisses, and the pinnacle of parenting - high-fiving after mastering potty training. It was full of daily simple pleasures, and sometimes it was mundane, but mostly it was full to the brim of a gentle kind of happiness.

When Matt and I decided to switch things around so he could finish his studies, I returned to the paid workforce. I had been freelancing for five years, which was getting more and more tricky with two small kids, but it had its rewards too. But it was inconsistent, so I started looking around.

I went back to the coalface, working 4 days a week, and have been there now for 18 months. It's not been an easy transition either. I am riddled by mother's guilt. I always feel like I am missing out. I always feel like my kids are missing out on their mama.

Work is satisfying and exciting, and of course there's the thrill of hitting targets and weekly wins, I get to utilise my years of experience, but it's definitely not the same as parenting.

Sure there are tantrums. Arguments. Petty office politics. But on the flipside, I do get to go to the toilet cubicle solo.

I race hither and thither so I can be doing my job to the best of my abilities, and race home so I can spend as much time as possible with my smalls.

And recently, it made me think:

What do other mums think?

Is it more important to work in a job that stretches your brain (in a good way), and let's you blossom professionally?

or

Is it more important to have a flexible job?

And

Is it possible to have both? Or is brain-stretching distinctly separate to flexibility?

I'm undecided.

PS - I don't know why I felt the need to post a picture of Tootsie. I just did. I love Tootsie. I just can't even rationalise why I put that picture there.

Censoring Music

More and more I'm finding that I am needing to censor music from my children's young ears.

It's not like I'm listening to NWA or any heavy-handed lyrics. I'm talking everyday music that I once took for granted. Lily Allen. Gotye. Black Eyed Peas. I could go on, but I can't think of anyone else right now.

Apparently everyone's dropping the f-bomb in their lyrical miracles, and it's become au fait.

You're talking to PottyMouthMama here. I tried to delete swearing from my vocab the moment I birthed my first babe.

I'm not just playing Justine Clarke CDs over and over again, but help a girl out - what's your tactic when artists are getting their swear on? I'm not some little prude sitting in the corner. Surely I am not alone.

I want my kids to remain kids for as long as possible. To preserve that innocence for as many years as possible.

I remember vividly playing records on my Uncle Silas' record player, discovering the Beatles, Tiny Tim and many others as I worked my way through my parent's collection.

I remember puzzling over lyrics and wondering what they meant - and imagining my own innocent meaning - but I don't remember them cussing on the mike. Ever.

Now piles of CDs are relegated to times when I am alone, in the car, or if the smalls have gone out. Clearly, my music collection is somewhat refined when in their company - but their innocence is worth more to me than listening to a song. Can you dig?

Naked? In Front Of Your Kids? *GASP*

A couple of years ago I heard of a couple who never got naked in front of their kids. This isn't an urban legend. The children had never seen their dad naked, and according to the parents - they weren't ever going to either.

I was a little shocked  because - well nudity is a feature in our house. We're not nude all of the time, but we're not not nude all of the time.

But what I found most shocking was the organisation that this would entail.

I re-enacted it in my head. I would have to take all my clothes to the bathroom when I showered. I would have to close doors. I don't usually close doors. But above all, I wouldn't be able to stand at my wardrobe, in a definite state of undress, deciding what to wear for the day. This startled me. I usually walk around the house in the morning in various states of dress before finally getting my stuff together and getting it on. I thought about how small our house (smaller than a shoebox) and how difficult life would be if they never saw me naked.

I think it's good to be nude in front of my kids!

And this is part of the naked upside down breastfeeder talk. People, generally men, didn't like the idea that she was nude! And she was breastfeeding.

But for me, being nude is good. It's a positive! Being nude shows children real bodies. Bumps, lumps, hips and dips. Everything. I have thought about all those perfect images of women and men being presented perfectly in the media - airbrushed, over-styled, and after sitting in a make-up chair for a couple of hours. 

While my body isn't perfect it is pretty awesome. It's grown babies. It's birthed babies. It's fed babies. It can run up and down stairs. It does so much cool stuff. And my brain drives it. Pretty rad when you think about it.


image of Chilli Peppers via

Childhood

While Matt's show was happening, all the smalls that were gathered with their parents played out on the street (supervised), chalking, customising masks, and doing what small children should do. Playing.

I loved this snippet of life. Slowed down.

It reminded me of when I was small. We'd play with the neighbourhood kids. Out in the street. Enjoying simple play. Remember running in packs?

I love this photo taken by my friend Bec. A glimpse of it. It's a picture of how childhood should be. That innocence is retained so briefly. It's so fragile and should be preserved.

Tiny playing with two gals she'd never met before, but it all just clicked. So simple and fills my heart. Sigh.