the calm after the storm...

...just kidding. N's party was a lot of fun. i never get stressed about stuff like that. one of the benefits of having no cash to do all we want to our house is that while the kids are little we don't worry too much about the carpet/walls etc. although we do teach them (N) to take care.

i'll let the pictures tell the story. when it was bedtime N said "where all my friends go?" on Sunday as we came home he was naming all the kids at church and then said "i have lots of friends!!" he starts Sunday School next week and i'm looking forward to it. it seems so grown up - he'll have memory verses and everything! ;-)

anyway, to the party...

ready and waiting!

the Island of Sodor!

a present from pop and gran

a party game thanks to Aunty Mel!

the quiet afterwards. :-) thanks everyone for making it a fun day for N - as you all heard, he just loves singing Happy Birthday - even for himself!!

and it was fun for N as that day he went to get the mail and there was a card for him from his great-aunty Chris!!

sigh. a three year old already. i liked Heather's advice~ "don't blink!"

* * * * * * * * *

last night when the kids were in bed i watched Enough Rope on the ABC. Andrew Denton is doing a series on Elders. last nights interview was with Isabel Allende. i have a couple of her books and find her a very interesting person. her uncle was the President of Chile in when the CIA backed a military coup, resulting in his death. (the US were good at backing coups in the '70's and '80's).

i take a bit of an interest in Chile as in primary school one of my best friends had come from Chile with her family after the coup. anyway, i liked what Isabel Allende had to say when she was asked what she felt women today should know about their history:

"I think that young women today don't want to be called feminists because it's not sexy and they think that their mothers and grandmothers have achieved everything they want. They don't know how poor women live, how women in rural places live, how 80 percent of women in the world are the poorest of the poor, how still today there are 27 million slaves, most of them women and girls. Two thirds of the work in the world is done by women. Women own 1 percent of the assets. Young women are sold into prostitution, forced labour, premature marriage, forced to have children they don't want or they can't support. They're abused, raped, beaten up. Domestic violence is supposed to be a cultural problem. They are the first victims of war, fundamentalism, conflict, recession. And young women today who have access to education and health care and have resources think that everything was done, they don't have to worry. Well that makes me really angry. I feel that I have to shake them and say, "No, it's your responsibility to make things happen." The women's revolution, the women's movement was something extraordinary that changed a generation. It began the movement. We still have a lot to do."

* * * * * * * *

so i said when my kids went to bed. but while they go to bed, they don't go to sleep. no matter what time i put N to bed, he spends two hours hiding under his blanket calling out for us to find him, or on occasion, putting cd's on, doing puzzles or "reading" books. this has only been going on for about a week, so i'm hoping it will change.

and is it a coincidence that A will call out, and then cry out, on and off between 1am and 3am until i am so tired i put her in our bed and she then goes straight to sleep without a sound??

two weeks and i'm back at work, so i have to sort it out, right? i think i have been slack about concerning myself too much about sleep as i've always thought people who say their kids slept through the night from day blah blah, were either lying or exaggerating!! but maybe it is true and maybe it is possible! ;-)

happy birthday... 46664

so i wasn't going to post and now here is my second within hours.
i've been watching the concert honouring Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday celebrations, and how could i not say something.
a colleague of mine once gave me two ballot papers from the 1994 South African elections. a strange gift, but to me a special one, as those ballot papers represent the first free election held in South Africa after the end of apartheid. not really art, but one day i'll frame those ballot papers, along with the 1999 Timor Leste ballot paper for independence. people like Mandela and Aung San Su Kyi represent what i work for - it really is an amazing job. i work with people all over the world - in developing democracies and those with repressed governments in order to see those countries move slowly closer to a democratic system of government. they are people that inspire. how often am i reminded that i take SO much for granted. it is wonderful to see the world celebrating a sacrificial life.

anatomy of a birthday party

i wasn't going to post this weekend, but i am having lots of fun with planning for N's 3rd birthday party on Monday.
firstly, there were the invitations, a picture scanned from a Little Golden Book Classic ...



then while contemplating the food, i read this from Nigella Lawson regarding parties for small children:

** They will be too excited to eat much. Concentrate on one or two star items - the cake, some special biscuits.
** Build a party repertoire for yourself. I now do the same biscuits party after party, but change their shape and their icing. I do the same sandwiches, provide the same sort of sausages and buy the same sort of crisps. The routine is reassuring to your children... and helpful for you. Add to this repertoire but keep it to provide a solid foundation.
** Don't try to please other parents. The party is for your child.
** Don't get agitated about the amount of sugar, food colour, salt, cream or butter. This is not the time.

great advice, so i will keep the food simple - fairy bread, baby cupcakes, cocktail frankfurts, some individual pizzas, and the usual chips and lollies (but not too much of them!)

then the cake. not the complicated Thomas the Tank Engine i was searching for, but with a great Gran to help we will attempt the Island of Sodor tomorrow.

the party bags are done and i'm now preparing to decorate...


so, lots of fun for me, and as for N, he just loves the "happy birthday song" and the candles on the cake. just the way a three year old should be.

because it will be busy on Monday morning we decided last night was a good night to give N his present from us. we bought it on-line months ago. i'm proud i lasted this long before giving it to him! :-)

oh, and look what you find when you actually open the stool to the piano you were given 16 months ago! maybe i am Noni or Benita afterall! ;-)

three things

1. i'm really annoyed. yesterday i was in Civic (possibly the first time since last November i have been without a child??) and walked past Smith's Alternative bookstore. on the table out the front was a book about activities to do with children. it was divided into sections such as 'cooking'; 'gardening'; 'painting' etc and had a number of projects to do under each category. it was reduced to $14.95 and do you think i bought it?? no, i thought, "oh, i can think of these things myself". and i probably can, but gee it would have been nice to have as a reference. i called the bookstore - could they find it? no! so i'm really annoyed at myself for skimping on the little things.

2. here is a great quote for women that i read: "remember, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels." great, huh? ;-)

3. more importantly, this challenges and inspires me at the moment:
"We need to know where God wants us to go in order to create a plan to get there. Each person must find where she is on this path of motherhood so that she may know how to travel forward from this point. No matter where you are on this road of discovering and living out the mission of motherhood, you can take steps forward." ~ The Mission of Motherhood

what's for dinner tonight??

it's here, so this morning i am looking at what yummy, simple dinner i can make for tonight. :-)

these swimmers also arrived this morning - sent from the UK by D's cousin. they brought this image to mind... ;-) but definitely not as glamorous!!

mummy??

somewhere over the weekend i've gone from being "mama" to "mummy". it sounds different, hearing it coming from N's mouth. it sounds grown up.
on Saturday we were walking home from Erindale (he walked all the way there and back without complaining!) and then out of the blue he says "i love you mummy". i told him i loved him and he smiled and said, "yeah, i love you too." i think that is the issue with going back to work - the time passes so quickly, and i hate to think of anyone else doing what i think should be the mummy's job. three weeks today until i walk back into those office doors, sit at my desk at the corner window and ponder what makes democracy work for many of our struggling neighbours. they will seem far away when i'll be wondering if Pea is sleeping, if N isn't getting into trouble and how many hours will it be until i am home with them again. the first hot coffee and chat at the cafeteria may push it all to the back of my mind... but i doubt it. :-p
the author of a blog i read regularly writes really poignantly about her 3 1/2 year old. here she is describing how she felt when her son wanted to be with his grandmother, not his mum or his dad... (she is also a freelance writer so is much more poetic than i could be in describing the same emotions of watching your son growing...)

"He comes home from the day with his Gram and Gramps who indulge his every wish: playground visits, popsicles, escaping from naps, trips to the hardware store, the library, the moon… When he gets here, he’s asleep and the rain has rinsed the heat out of the day. He’s in his car seat when they bring him, in his underpants, hair curling with sweat. We carry him inside where he sleeps on DH the way he used to before his legs were long and his knees were scraped and his heart belonged only to us. Then he wakes, and all he wants is her, his Gram, who smells like sweet perfume and has soft hugs and buys him cookies whenever they go out.
He starts to cry for her. His eyes get red and puffy and he runs away and hides in corners, sobbing. Inconsolable, he doesn’t want either one of us, only her. Snot runs from his nose in a trail, and we offer peanut butter cookies and milk and he eats them and then starts to cry again; his smile as temporary as the thunderstorm earlier today that brought nickel-sized hail and a tornado warning while I was at school....
My heart feels like the tangled strings of a marionette; like prongs in a splintered music box; like the quarters that fall under couch cushions and are forgotten. We go back inside, agreeing to ignore him for a while. Surely this has gone on long enough, this wailing, this utter ridiculousness. He’s clutching the phone. “I want to call Gram,” he says each word punctuated with a gasping sob.
I put on Jack Johnson. DH grills chicken. I make potato salad. Bean sobs, clutching the phone.
Finally we cave, after forty five minutes of sobbing...
Smiles flutter on his face like the little blue moths that kept landing on the kids hands and arms at school while we were walking in the tall grass. They’d alight, then stick their tongues out, licking the salt from the kid’s sweaty palms, everyone watching in wonderment. My little boy didn’t want anything to do with me, and now he’s sitting there at the counter, elbows up, talking on the phone like a teenager, his face wide with grins. I can only listen for a while, before I feel like I can’t breathe.
My heart feels like a bit of clay, drying in the sun, a hundred little fissures forming on the surface. Damn. No one told me about this. No one warned me that they stop loving only you. That you stop being everything, that a day comes when your kiss no longer makes it better.
I take the red metal colander to the garden with a sharp knife and cut the outer leaves of lettuce heads, all curly and green. Walking across the wet grass to the garden I cry. Then while I’m cutting the salad greens he calls for me, “Mommy, where are you?” and my heart is a trout flip flopping about with a wild helpless kind of love. He’s standing at the top of the garden path waiting for me, and I pick him a wild daisy from among the tall grasses and he grins when I hand it to him. “I love you, Mommy,” he says.
We eat dinner and finally, he’s all mine again. I feed him buttered noodles with peas and carrots and then we sit on stools by the window watching the storm move towards us across the mountain. We count bolts of lightening and he grins, eyes still red, eyelashes tangled. Then the sky changes fast from light to metallic gray. The leaves on the trees are tossed belly side up, like a thousand darting minnows caught between here and the storm tossed sky. Rain chases the wind, and DH goes about shutting windows and nursing his own form of heartache.
Bean wanted neither of us; and while he’s climbing back and forth now between our laps sharing an ice cream sandwich and watching the storm dwindle, his small betrayal still stings like salt in a cut.
So this is watching your kid grow up; becoming someone separate, like one Jupiter’s moons... Three years, and suddenly he’s clamoring for independence at the threshold of our hearts. All we can do is stand in the doorway watching the storm approach. Then suddenly, rain is pelting our skin."

making lemon curd

basic recipe

180g butter
3/4 cup caster sugar
2/3 cup lemon juice, strained
3 eggs

place the butter, sugar and lemon juice in a saucepan over low heat and stir until the butter and sugar are dissolved.

remove from the heat and whisk in the eggs. stir over low heat continuously for 8-10 minutes or until thickened. makes 2 cups.

store for up to two weeks in a sterilised jar. (to sterilise the jar, wash it in hot soapy water, then invert on a clean tea towel on a baking tray and heat in the oven at 100 degrees for 15 minutes.

have fun Kirsty!! if you want a really yummy lemon recipe - beg Kylee for her lemon slice recipe. i have to confess to eating three slices today!!