JULY

July is dreary. I tell people I love winter, "I'm a winter person" I declare. But the truth is, somewhere near the end of the school holidays, I just get a bit dreary. It's silly because many many great things happen at this time of the year, not the least being a special wedding anniversay next week (yes, love winter so much got married right in the middle of it), but almost equally thrilling is that this weekend is the Bendigo Wool and Sheep Show.  More about that later.

Yes July is dreary and shuffling around Highpoint hasn't helped. When I came home I remembered I hadn't picked up after the dog for a few days, that will be nice considering all the rain...and the corn. But then a miracle. The sun came out, just for a twinkle, helping me to discern between old brown autumn leaves and well.... Thanks Sun. And then something else. Buds. Buds on my Magnolia and natives flowering and if by magic I felt that dreariness lift. And can I say, I'm very lucky that "dreary" to me is just a bit of a flat feeling, for a couple of days somewhere in July. But there it was, that something I needed. And then a lovely friend sent me a photo she had found, and the sun was back out.

Sorry July, I don't know what gets into me.

GRATEFUL

The past few weeks have certainly dampened the Collective Christmas Spirit. Such sadness and tragedy, children losing parents, parents losing their children. I found myself slumped on the couch last week, having sheilded the younger ones from the news but knowing Ailee and Lucinda had sat glued to the rolling coverage of the Sydney seige while I was out shopping. We were all feeling the effects of something so frightening and so close to home but unable to articulate it so instead at 9 pm we all sat on the couch watching a re run of Modern Family but I know my mind was elsewhere. Finally I mustered the energy to send everyone to bed, but no reading, no lovely rituals, just a tired mother not in the mood.

An hour later I walked past Hazel's bedroom and noticed she was busy with paper and scizzors, working away in the dark. I flew into her room "It's bloody 10 o'clock Hazel go to sleep!!! And I bundled the mass of craft into my arms and threw it onto the table. " Don't break it" she bawled.

The next morning I opened the curtain in her room. I glanced at the pile of paper I had thrown on the table the night before, hoping secretly I hadn't damaged it, oh the regrets a mother faces in the light of a new day. I picked it up by a corner and could not believe what she had made in the darkness of her little bunk bed, she was like Edward Scizzor Hands! I was a tiny bit freaked out and a little scared of her for a split second. How did she do this? "Oh Haze, this is so beautiful, you are amazing". And all of a sudden all was forgiven and I knew it was time to just be grateful. And so I am more than ever.

The house is so quiet right now. Daryl has taken Ailee, Lucinda and Hazel to Lorne to set up for the summer ahead, Tobes is snuggled upstairs with Russell and a hot chocolate. Phemie is somewhere in the Amazon jungle (no seriously she really is), and I am sitting here listening to the coo of the doves outside, and feeling particularly happy that it's almost Christmas. The past few days have truly been filled with good cheer, family, friends and a little Christmas miracle in the form of a  bird who hit our window yesterday and after a few moments of convulsing on the lawn was held by Tobie and Ailee and soothed and petted and whispered to in gentle voices then finally it flew up to the tree and back to it's family.

FULLNESS

On another blog I love to follow from day to day, and often whine that whilst I am quite addicted to and inspired by this blog, it does makes me feel a little pale and useless, I happened upon a word I rather fancied. Fullness. It's not a word I would naturally use to describe this time of year, other words come to mind, um, chaotic, stressful, stupidly stressful ( two words), but I have decided to focus on the word " Fullness", because despite the mountain of stress induced coldsores that are making small children scream in horror AND the fact that my GP would like me to wear a 24 hour heart monitor ( don't worry Mum, he's just humouring me, I'm as healthy as a ox), I think the word fullness reflects gratitude for all we have going on at this time of year.  New take I know but I'm giving it a shot.

This time of year is full of birthday celebrations. I plonk one vanilla cake after another on the table, decorated half heartedly with never the right amount of candles. But this year I stirred and smiled and thought about the gathering of our neighbourhood family and more about the birth that the day celebrated, and although the dog ate half of Daryl's cake, Phemie cut it into the shape of a "D" and it was funny and Hazel and her dear friend Ambrose did a beautiful job of decorating it.

And then there are the concerts. Who ever would have thought I would have so many performers? But here we are with a line up of evenings of song, dance and amazing feats on parallel bars, my head is about to explode.......with the fullness of watching my children being braver than I could ever be.

But the coldsores and heart pulpatations this year I suspect are for a completely different fullness. This time next week Phemie will on her way to Ecuador.The child who wouldn't stand up in assembly to receive and award, or walk into a party if there were already other kids there, or dance alone at Mangala, always forcing me to leap around with her holding that tiny little hand. She has worked for most of the year to save, and now the time is here and she is excited and calm. I can't quite pinpoint my feelings but the thought of waiting for her at Arrivals on January 11th really does make my heart swell a little. Fullness.

Sixteen

On birthdays I love to remember the day my girls were born. Funny little details come flooding back to me, I indulge myself in those wonderful memories, not in a sad way but in a reflective and grateful way. Phemie was such a happy baby, surrounded by a family that love her, especially my parents who for them she was their first grandchild.

She is growing up to be such a beautiful person, so at peace with herself, riding the waves of adolecence with grace, maturity and a wisdom beyond her years. She is her father's daughter when it comes to calmness and kindness.

She will never let me give a speech so I guess this is where I can say how remarkable I think you are Pheme, and how wonderful it is to watch you grow into your life. Initially you were cautious making soft little impressions with every footstep, to now being someone who takes on life's opportuniies with courage and joy. But most of all you never like to waste a sunny day and that my love is a wonderful thing. Happy Birthday.xx

Back to Blogging

As I drove home from school pick up this morning I realised I was grinding my jaw as I thought about the list of things I had to do today. Nothing major, just the sort of things I personally feel the need to do before I go on holidays. Let me think of some examples...ah yes, clean out my 15 year old daughter's cupboard (sort of urgent and necessary because she is away and this gives me the perfect opportunity to chuck ugly clothes out without her knowledge), wash the dog, fold the giant mountain of washing and put it all away which probably also requires a clean out of everyone elses cupboards, get the dinner on, compost my veggie patch and get the beetroot seedlings in, oh, tomatoe seeds, probably left that too late? It goes on and on, full of weird little tasks that my personality requires me to do before I can allow myself to enjoy the 10 days in Bali we have coming up.

So I made a coffee and decided it was time to blog. It's been a while and I miss it as writing and reflecting always gives me such a sense of accomplishment, far more than any pedantic little chore that in the end just gets undone and then I get cross and blame my family for actually having the nerve to exist in this home and maybe muss it up just a bit. So I'm going to sit and write and think about the self imposed deadlines that I met, and the phone calls to publishers I was too scared to make but did (and now my book submission sits somewhere out there and I may never know if someone else thinks it was lovely but just not quite good enough. I think it's lovely, I'm actually really proud of it but we'll see). I think about those two families who brought babies into the world with a little extra support form the Knitting Doula, and blankets that Lee and I have made for two very special babies born in Mexico. I think about my daughters who are for most of the time pretty happy and kind, and my Daryl who works like a dog but rarely complains, in fact never really and is always the person I just want to be with forever.

And so this contemplation puts the guilt I feel about skirting around the outside of family life, wiping and folding, of not needle felting or reading enough Little House On the Priairie with Hazel ( who let's be honest would probably rather be drawing with nasty gell pens in front of Good Luck Charlie!) But it's OK to stop and reassess every now and then. Life does feel too busy and the family so disconnected at times but then we will spend and sunny day at the farm all of us out in the field checking irrigation jets, the blue sky above us, and that's what I need to breath in and remember and write about. Feels good to be back.

Happy Birthday Dad

Looking at this cheeky little toothless grin, I see so many other faces wash over, my Hazel this morning, smiling as she sang in assembly, or my nephew Jordan, his sweet gentle little face, a mad Carlton supporter like his Buppa. But most of all I still see my Dad, a bit older certainly, but still with that joy for life he had as a wee lad back then. Those eyes look toward the future, of migration and new beginnings, of hard work and lots of soccer, of a young woman he would fall in love with, of a family he would raise and success in business he would have, of more travel and adventures, of goals set and reached. A man more tolerant and compassionate of the struggles of others than many, a supportive Dad to his two daughters no matter where he really thought our dreams would lead.

But most of all I look at that cheeky little face and think of the boy who grew up to become the man who every night of the 18 years I lived at home, came to my bedroom door and told me that he loved me.

Happy Birthday Dad.
I love you too.

Christmas

Twenty eight days ago I signed up to do an on line challenge called Harmonious Home, how to make your holiday period more meaningful, less rushed, less stressfull...or something like that. I got my little diary out on day one and followed the instructions which were to journal briefly how you would like to see the next 28 days, the smells and sounds, the "feel". I wrote stuff like : calm, family, love, warmth, conversation...wish I could put my finger on that damn diary so I could recall. One day slipped away and then the next and the next and finally yesterday I guiltily thought I might have a glance at the final challenge which is today: Play hide and seek with your children. Right. Lady my children will be glued to inappropriate televison for the next 8 hours while I prepare for a calm, loving, warm, spice smelling bloody Christmas! I have a turkey to pop a festive coat on (riduculously complicated recipe that has been my 'traditition' for the past 15 years), people coming for drinks tonight so the front of the house needs at least a hose down! Get my TV watching children to help, to be involved and take photos of us all laughing and dancing around the kitchen and then blog that? Not going to happen, although maybe passing on that turkey to first born isn't a bad idea and Lucinda did say she would like to make bread.

Every year my needle felted, Advent candle lighting Christmas never quite meets my vision. I really must steer clear of those blogs where everything is handmade and candle lit and snow covers the pine trees that are just visable through the handmade curtains of some beautifully restored farm house. We have a semi-naked Miley Cyrus swinging from a bauble on our tree (handmade just the same), and I have to admit when I found her hanging there I laughed my head off and sent photos to friends, boasting about my hilarious clever child.

I do however, like cling to Christmas traditions no matter how lame they may seem. The Myer Christmas windows being one of my favourites despite the fact that the windows are really just a quick stop over on our way to the Mac counter at Myer and dumplings and a glass of chardonay in Little Bourke st. The Kensington Carols was at it's absolute best with Ange and I fumbling our way around but then at 9pm all huddled under shelter, candles flickering I actually looked around and thought, this is really lovely. I have missed driving to see the lights this year but then some traditions can be replaced with a night on the couch knitting and watching Modern Family can't they?

Hazel woke up this morning and announced it was Christmas Eve, she is as excited and happy as any child could be despite the fact that she probably knows at some point today Mum's head will blow off and we'll all be made to "Tidy your disgusting rooms for God's sake!!!! Daryl and Phemie have gone to Lorne to "set up", which is a tradition he loves as it's time with his big girl, Tobie loves Christmas Eve because it means a bit of a concert with cousins and neighbors popping over for a drink, and as for Ailee and Lucinda, I feel things shifting. Their high school uniforms hang in the cupboard and they now have phones (which were confiscated last night " I'm sick of those bloody phones, I'm trying to have family time!!! Or Modern Family time as the case may be.) But they haven't quite transformed into distant teenagers. The Hunger Games, as has in fact provided a brilliant outside activity for my bigger girls as they pretend to be slaughtering each other in all sorts of foul ways. Ailee asked the other weekend at the farm if she could try killing a rabbit with her archery set. Um, no. I'll hold on tight to them this summer as come the end of holidays they will set out across town and I'll feel them slip just a little away from me.

My heart is starting to pulpitate just a little as I think of the jobs ahead. But I knew that sitting and writing before the day got started was going to set a better tone, and although I may not find a moment to play hide and seek, I will now perhaps suggest that the TV goes off, I'm sure washing the house with some soap and a broom could be fun for someone else, and that turkey definately has Phemie's name on it. She of course will have other plans like the traditional  Christmas movie marathon with the big kids of neighborhood.

Tomorrow we will wake up and the girls will rush to the tree and I'll put the kettle on and Daryl and I will sit amongst our girls as they open their presents and then I'll start to panic because the turkey always takes so much longer and this year I've also promised a side dish I've never made and lunch is slightly earlier and oh God I'm having a head rush and if I didn't it just wouldn't be Christmas.