inner pickle

over here we are...

~ Sitting and staring at the wonderful ginger-like in-season Jerusalem artichokes and wondering what the heck to do with them. 

 

Cook 'em, I think babe. (I can't believe she's almost ONE. If I didn't have this year recorded here I might start to think I'd missed it.)

 

~ Mixing buttermilk and cream and leaving it on the bench for a day to get gorgeous, glossy sour cream. (More on home made sour cream next week!)

 

~ Finding shovels and holes all over the garden. 

Occasionally with a culprit or two (or four - we love the neighbours) attached.

 

Digging for treasure, apparently. 

This hole, below, had a map strewn on the ground next to it. I'm not kidding. This is completely unguided by me, although am all for them digging up priceless pirate treasure. Knock yourselves out, smallies. 

 

Map by Tilly. 

 

~ Experiencing free-range baby. And trying to find the balance between letting her feel the ground and needing to carry her around so I know where she is. 

 

~ Ending each day with a couple of chapters of classic Enid Blyton. 

Ivy's not as riveted as the other two but she's still young. There's time to thoroughly inculcate her with Enid Blyton yet. 

 

Hope your Thursday had some buried treasure. 

xxx

I try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay - - - how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.

From Fall Song, Mary Oliver

 

some days

some days are all about perspective

 

dreadful disease?

 

or expressive body art?

 

Henry home sick with a headcold. 

Tilly developing an unhealthy attachment to glitter glue. And clag. And glue sticks. There's not a craft project that does not require glue at the moment.

Ivy attacked by a merciless mosquito. 

Dinner? IKEA meatballs.

Oh yes. And green pasta for me. 

Tomorrow is a new day, with new glue sticks. 

And on a Wednesday there's always Glee.

xxx

 

 

free range kids

So what do you think? Heard of this lady? 

I totally get what she's saying, and part of what really hits home with me is the need to teach kids self-reliance. But I'd struggle to let a small person find their own way home. 

I love the idea of providing 'safe' freedom for kids to explore and learn, and I don't want to be guilty of infantalising children when they're not infants, or being a 'helipcopter parent'. However, I also don't want my kids to grow up too soon, and if I'm aware of risks, how can I possibly put my children in the way of them, however minor? 

Your thoughts?

Adventure is in the genetic makeup of my three, thanks to Adam. Mister can I climb it, paddle down it, jump off it, ride through it? He searches out city parks that have at least a tiny bit of adventure - tall things the kids can climb, wobbly things they might fall off. Big slippery dips. 

He despairs the removal of those enormous metal rockets from council playgrounds circa 1985. 

Saturday morning was HOT in Sydney. So we found some water to play in. 

I hadn't thought to pack swimmers (or spare clothes) of course. 

 Oh well, they don't look very wet at all. 

Right?

They slipped over. There were scratches and there are bruises. They had a ton of fun. 

In a way I wish I could let my kids be more free-range. I think independence is exhilarating and great for self esteem. Just not sure I could ever leave an eight year old in a shopping mall to make his own way home by train. You?

xxx

 

wonderful treehouse

Hey remember this?

I had a few comments and emails about this amazing treehouse the kids played with at The Australian Museum last week so I did some digging. 

Turns out it was made for the museum by a lady here, locally. Yep, it's made out of a hollowed tree trunk. She's amazing, right?

Anyway, the artist's anme is Carla Dejong and she has a website.

The lovely lady who runs the kid's programs at the Museum said she didn't think Carla made the four-story-high treehouses usually as they may be unstable.

I'm planning to find out!

 

Also a quick note about the little dude: all perfectly excellent today, ears aren't even sore, back to school! He was totally cool about the whole procedure, (called an aural toilet, how hilarious). I thought he might freeze up a bit at the idea of the anesthetic given his last experience twelve months ago was major palate reconstruction and surgery on his throat - coming out of that anesthetic is something I'll never forget but perhaps he has. He was very chilled about the whole thing. Marvelous wee fella. 

xxx

curious

Good, unrestrained, imaginative curiosity is probably the trait I cherish most in my small people. 

 

I love bugs in the bug catcher and escapee snails on the stairs. 

I love the little finger in the cocoa powder and the little hands which will only be satisfied playing the entire eighty-eight piano keys one after the other. donk. donk. donk. down the scales. 

I love 'indoor' curiosity. The kind that finds small people peering at the world map on the wall. Looking through books. Checking out bugs under magnification. 

 

 

And shells. And fingernails. 

And I love 'outdoor' curiosity.

The kind that leads children to dig into the ground and climb trees. 

I won't care if my children aren't amazing academically, or sparklingly social, or astoundingly commercially successful. These things aren't important to me. 

But I will feel like a failure as a mother if they have no sense of curiosity. 

And, er, if they can't cook a whisker.

And perhaps if they eat a lot of hamburgers.

You? What matters to you?

xxx

roll up, roll up

Oh Sydney. 

DAMN you can throw a festival.

Check out the The Sydney Children's Festival (great clip here).

We had SO MUCH FUN there on Monday. These plants, below, have electric currents running through the water inside the plant, so when you pressed a leaf it played music. Unbelievable. So cool. A slightly sciencey girl explained how it all worked to us and I still didn't get it. But you pressed the leaves and it played music! For real!

(Blurry photo because I was obviously just too excited about the singing plant.)

 

You could take a photo of your head and stick it on a wall and make funny bodies. Inexplicably hilarious. 

But the highlight for us was the circus drop zone. 

A fab space full of excellent circus-y things to play with. People leaping around doing cool circus-y things. 

Henry's favourite bit was the somersaulting. 

 

Tilly loved the crazy pedal things. 

 

Wonderful. 

Lock it in for next year.

xxx

pretending we're elsewhere

What do you do when you live in the city and wish for a moment you were in the middle of the bush?

You go find a park.

 

And under the orders of the captain:

You build a make-shift shelter:

You navigate the rising river:

You collect firewood:

and you have yourselves a sunny, quiche-filled, sandwiched and caked picnic with friends. 

Perfect.

xxx

 

 

two things

One: if you leave a three year old alone they will eventually find something useful to do.

(Even cleaning windows is fun if you don't have to do it.)

Maybe tomorrow I should leave the broom out...

 

Two: Henry asked me tonight what I would be wearing to the father's day breakfast at school tomorrow. I looked at him blankly and suggested jeans. 

He said no, how about those black things. 

My black trousers? 

No. Black things on your legs with tiny tiny holes. 

You mean stockings?

Yes stockings. I want you to wear stockings. And a skirt. 

It's lucky that both my parents and Adam's were here for dinner tonight so I was able to come downstairs and share the fact my six year old was laying down fashion advice. 

Which I'm sure I need. But really, stockings??

Sure Henry, I'll wear stockings and a skirt. Only if your father stops guffawing. (You wait till he outlaws your favourite mauve polo shirt honey!)

I love it. Sounds like the start of something fun.

xxx

this moment

A Friday tradition (not unlike Friday-night-dessert-night!) inspired by Soulemama.

One photo from the week, no words, something you want to hang onto.

xxx

green day

A wordless post.

Because I seem to have lost the ability to speak. Or write.

Possibly due to this person.

(Totally gratuitous shot of darling wee baby. Who is *cough* actually far less responsible for my inarticulateness than the fact I am mid-way through season 3 of Mad Men and addicted. ADDICTED. So good. What, it's midnight? One more episode, babe?)

Wordlessness starting now.

WAIT!! Is that green paint on your mama-made skirt Tilds?

*deep sigh*

Let's hope Borax gets that out...

Luckily I think the green adds to its charm. And yours. Funny chicken.

(Sorry. Wordless. I keep forgetting.)

xxx