wocka wocka wocka

The list came home. White board markers, tissues, glue sticks. Library nag. “I want a blue one, with a red helicopter, mummy, please?”, and so with that in mind, I headed to the fabric store. blots of fabrics examined, then returned to the shelf. A decision made. I rocked a fabric ban like Car, and just happened to think the red I am using for my Dear Jane would be perfect for a helicopter. And of course, I had to allow for mistakes, so maybe a metre or so would be sufficient?

 

With my little helper beside me, I measured and cut and ironed and stitched, and slowly, the design I had in mind came to life, and was presented to the board for approval. The board approved.

 

Wednesday today, and my new favourite day of the week. The craziness of preschool days behind, three days stretching ahead to hang out with the little two. We’ve been taking it easy, kicking off with a bike ride in the cool of a cloudy late summer morning. Sandpit. Trampoline. Morning tea and cuddles with the chicken. Bubba Boy is keen for some dinosaur craft. I’ve got a present for a friend on the go. A mug rug that needs starting. An itchy painting finger. Bookwork, peicework, housework. 3pm will be here too quickly. Watch out Wednesday, here we come!

tutu cute

She spins around, hands above head, creating her own music “da da dum, da da dum” the little voice tinkles, until she twirls to a stop, one foot pointed to the side. At 16 months, she is too small for ballet lessons, but, inspired by a friend and my little dancer, we had our afternoon craft sorted. The boys slept as she delightfully helped me rummage through the fabric tub, and the scraps I knew were in there quickly surfaced, and to my delight, matched perfectly with some larger peices in a bag at the top of the tub.

 

We sit side by side on the loungeroom floor, and I lay out the fabric. A shiny piece of teal organza catches her eye, and she twirls with delight as it billows behind her. I call her back, and roughly measure the length I’ve chosen, to ensure it will fit right. She squeals and runs of as I begin looping layers of organza around the elastic loop on my leg. Her breathy giggles are warm in my ear as she runs back to me, and tries to pull it away from me. Run, pull. Run, pull. And at last it is finished, and she snatches it and runs away to inspect it. As I call, she reluctantly returns, and I help her step in, before she floats off in a puff of orange and pink.

 

 

It’s been a quiet day in the nest today, with three little people and their mama recovering from a tummy bug. Movies for them, pottering about cleaning interspersed with snuggles and Facebook for me. Thank goodness for iPhones. A story or two, long naps, a bit of craftiness. Slowly beginning to reassemble the bombsite formerly known as my studio. Taking it slow and easing into the weekend. Show weekend. Getting our tummies better so we can abuse them with chips and pluto pups and way too much fairy floss. Where’s that ferris wheel? Plenty of fun to be had, the weekend’s here at last. Bring it on!

tgif…

Fine weather = outside paly = outside crafty things.

 

Busy weekend here, birthday parties, church duties, housework. Playing with my babies and soaking up some rare time with my big school boy.

 

Have a great weekend, back to regular blogging next week

 

aussie kids. are weetbix kids.

With Bear at school, Bubba Boy is a bit lost. Late last week, he was wandering around aimlessly, his little face forlorn. “what’s up, sweetheart?”, and he sighs and shrugs. “Are you missing your big brother?” “Yes, mama, I be big school boy too pease?” “when you are five, baby. Want to do some craft?” “oooo, we make a digger craft, mama? Pease?”

So the craft box was raided. Post-holidays, the box of boxes was running low, so we hit up the recycling pile for the remaining pieces. Some tape and glue, a cut here, a wiggle there, and we had a sufficiently digger-like creation to occupy a little boy until his hero returned.

baking day.

A little head at each elbow, two grasping hands on my knees. “I do dat, mama?” “can I lick the spoon, please, mummy?” “I has lick of ‘poon too, mama?” “bub bub bub mama, BUB BUB”. The old Kenwood churns away, adding to the cacophony that is baking day. Chocolate cake, biscuits. Maybe a slice if we have time. And all made with recipes passed down through the women of my family. I love baking my great-grandmothers biscuits, filled with memories of many after-school snacks, dunked hot, into cold milk. Mixing them on my grandmother’s Kenwood mixmaster, a gift from my grandmother when my mother was a tiny child. And now, it’s my turn, with three small people “helping”.

 

But today, we won’t be baking. Bubba Boy is unwell, and we’ve been up half the night with a cough. So today is all about the snuggles. A movie or two, a quick trip to the doctor. Some playdough if he perks up enough, maybe some sewing for mummy. Doing a great deal of nothing until school pickup time comes around. Holding him close and getting him well. Horrible bugs, rack off and leave my boy alone. Downhill run to the weekend starts NOW!

 

nom nom…

It’s been a funny old day. Hot, then stormy, then muggy. Hopefully another storm this afternoon to cool things off again.

 

Today was going to be a catch up day. After all the rain, I finally found the bottom of the washing basket. Four loads of washing await hanging in the laundry. Except it started raining again. Of course. So instead, while baby girl sleeps, I’m going to race around and do all I should have done this morning. But I shafted housework and went for coffee, and met with friends. I chatted and laughed and filled my sol with the happiness that comes with good friendship. Baby girl rocked it with her aunty, and managed to come home with a new dress, new shoes, and lost her new hat. She also adopted a new pet in the shape of a microfibre finger duster that she loves rubbing on her face. Strange girl. Half hour ’til pickup, and the rest of my jobs call. Tidying, sweeping, vacuuming. Pickups, afternoon teas, unpacking, repacking. If I can swing it, a spot of sewing for a friend’s new baby. A stitch or two in my current Dear Jane block. Attempting to ignore the pull of Facebook and Pinterest. Must. Close. Internet. Tuesday’s nearly done, Wednesday beckons, then a downhill run to the weekend. Can’t wait! Let’s do this!

 

getting organised.

Last year, preschool mornings were always crazy. Hit-the-ground-running-and-don’t-forget-the-coffee crazy. Especially when one of the mornings saw me out the door at 8.50 for preschool drop-off, then straight round to coffee with my sister, before finally collapsing on the couch at my friend’s house for Bible Study. Four or so hours later, I would walk in the door, the morning done with, and the housework calling.

So this year, with one at big school, one at preschool, and one doing her best impersonation of a koala, I decided to ditch the nagging. No more reminding, no more “what’s next, boys?”. A quick trip to BigW, and I was laden with foam core and cardboard. I then printed some digital paper I’d bought from Sassy Designs in their new year sale, and drew some little pictures of the boys jobs. A couple of covered envelopes, some glue, and the chore chart appeared. A certain koala girl managed to spill water over most of the existing cards, so I’ve just made a new set, and laminated them this time!

Each boy has his own envelope, and his jobs get stacked in there. The new rule? No playing until they are all out. And, surprisingly enough, it works wonders, even with threee-year-old Bubba Boy. If they get a bit sidetracked, I simply have to remind them to check the chore chart, and they are off and racing!

Something quite simple, and has made a huge difference to our stress levels of a morning. The right hand side of the chart under the envelopes, also has a space for a tag for the day – so to help work out which uniform Bear needs, or if Bubba Boy needs play clothes or preschool clothes.

Today, it’s just Butterfly and I against the world. And what productive team we’ve been. Photos delivered, new chore cards laminated, new phones collected. She sleeps now, as I rush through some housework, and try and get some work done. Though I can hear her stirring, so the housework may wait, as I snuggle and play and read and toilet-train. Week two, and I am over it. C’mon baby girl, let’s get this sorted. 3pm will roll around too quickly, and the house will once more be flooded with the joyful, riotous sounds of two small boys, anxious to cram a days worth of play with their baby sister into a couple of too-short hours. Just another regular old Monday. Perfect to kick some butt and show this week who is boss as we find our new normal. Let’s do this!

the day before…

Boy Two was at preschool. Little Miss was in bed. For the final time, before my baby became a big boy, it was just me and Boy One. I chocked back my melancholy, and asked him what would he like to do. I shouldn’t have had to guess, of course it would be his favourite. A train, for Pooh Bear. I gathered the boxes, he gathered the craft supplies. We taped and cut and painted, and from nothing appeared a train. A cargo train.

He proudly props it up on the outside table to dry, and I scoop him up, and we collapse into the day bed. I hold him tight, and breath him in. Tomorrow, it will all change. He’ll be a big boy, at big school. No longer will his world revolve around home and our activities. I’m being pushed to the periphery, and my heart is breaking. What will I do with my days, without my little mate, and his constant narrative of our day?

He looks at me and grins. “One more sleep, mummy!!”. His excitement is mounting, and I can’t help but smail back at him, my spirits lifted by his enthusiasm for the adventure ahead. “One more sleep, sweetheart, just one.”