A Prosaic Slice of Morning and a Magpie Dogfight

After a timetabling misjudgment on our part with That Guy's work roster and a reshuffle on work's part with shift times, I ended up having to keep everyone awake so that I could bundle them into the car in the rain at twenty to eleven to go pick him up, which lately, as Ly welcomes four new teeth at once, is not as big a stretch as it might sound.

As a consequence, and to ensure everyone in the house got an adequate amount of sleep, the spoodle had a sleepover in the mancave with That Guy. I sneaked into the retreat before the children awoke and left a couple of 'surprises' so they wouldn't be disappointed on their morning 'treasure' hunt for spoos and spees... No, not really. We all know I'd only be hurting myself.

In the absence of their customary early morning spoodling, the children slept late. This is how children (and cats) appear when they are allowed to sleep unspoodled. 

A rare sight indeed. I haven't included a photo of Ni, because she was, at the time, sleeping peacefully and happily under an unusually large mound of tangled blankets with both her mouth and eyes half open. While, generally speaking, a sleeping child seems to most fully embody the beauty and every day magic of childhood, a child, however beautiful and magical, sleeping with her eyes open is just the weeniest bit disturbing.

The children's extended slumber gave me the opportunity to work for a time unhindered. I've noticed that I breathe differently when I'm alone. There's space for a sigh or a slow drawing of breath to the darkest unused corners of my lungs.

I was hanging washing when the sulphur crested cockatoos flew over and were intercepted midair by the resident magpies. A screeching flapping dogfight ensued that I will never be able to paint with words. As the cockatoos escaped intact, I felt a moment of exhilaration mixed with frustration that I was alone in seeing that cool, unsharable thing and then I drew breath and smiled to myself. Events take place in this world that are drawn for me alone to witness.

The household awoke too soon, (I am always simultaneously filled with joy to see them and disappointment that I didn't achieve more while they slept) and I was swept away into the tumult that is our shared morning. From then on I took my breaths how I could get them.

Use the Force (Homeschool Group) - Rewind

I'm joining in with Life in a Pink Fibro's Weekend Rewind and since no one really read this the first time around (in October 2008), I thought I'd repost it, since I quite like it.

There is chaos before me and chaos to the left of me. There is a wall to the right of me, but it looks as if it might get chaotic at any second (plastered, as it is, with a random jumble of educational posters). I know better than to keep chaos at my back though, so don't even ask, because that's where I'm keeping a dirty old couch cushion right now.

DK is playing a Star Wars game with a little boy. There's a lot of very dramatic lightsaber play, involving leaping, spinning and the occasional air kick. Now they stand facing one another, hands outstretched, a few centimetres apart, expressions of exertion and aggression marring their sweet little faces, as 'the Force' passes between them. In spite of an apparently huge effort on her part, she is slowly forced back, by some silent agreement, without the two of them ever speaking or touching.

She saw her first Star Wars movie, Revenge of the Sith, only last night. It's fairly graphic; not the best starting place for a largely uncorrupted seven year old. I didn't expect for a second that she would  be riveted to the screen when I left it on to paint the background of our evening's activities and I couldn't possibly have expected that this installment of the franchise would be such a departure from ewoks and Jar Jar Binks.

Nevertheless, there she was, finally understanding what the boys of her acquaintance just seemed to be born knowing. And in the space of an evening, she was indoctrinated. Now at the mid-morning of a new day, she stands before me, a Jedi fully formed.

{this moment} - Drawing

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

Inspired by SouleMama. 

Very Boo Radley

Last night I dreamed you into being once more.

I dreamed that you returned to me - dropped off by your elder sister; reluctantly entrusted to me again. You were weak, delicate, even paler than usual. And I thought, 'Oh, how awkward. However will I accommodate these two men?' - the man I chose to open my heart to after thirteen years and the one who returned from the dead after thirteen years.

I know why you're here. I've brought you back from the dead to fight for me; to convince me that if I can't be with you, then I should only be with a man who's too broken to love me in return. Or alone. I know that you come to me as the pathetically textbook product of survivor guilt. I know that you are me.

Because if it were really you, you'd kiss me on the forehead and tell me to move on; love; live. Be happy. Be whole.

Then you'd say, 'Boo Radley' to kill the moment.

We made a promise to one another; a pact to live or die as one. I need to remember that it was you who broke that pact; not me. It was you who made that awful mistake.  

I am so sorry that I was there in your madness with you; consumed by the pain of living. But if I hadn't been there, wouldn't you have felt yet more alone? Maybe I'm not sorry then. Maybe.

I know too well that these aren't the last tears I'll shed for you. If I live a hundred years or one, there will always be another reason to grieve.

Still missing you, Boo.

10 Things I Learned from the Spoodle in the First Fortnight

1. The early bird catches the worm. (Where the worm is actually a stinky Spoodle poo.)

I'm not a morning person by nature. That's just not where my body finds its natural rhythm, so getting up very early is not normally something I do unless forced to by a Spoodle who simply cannot wait. My mind and spirit, however, love it. Being up earlier gives me a little quiet time and helps set me up for a productive day. I also get to walk around for a couple of hours with that slightly smug little smile that you morning people so often have pasted to your shiny, annoying, condescending faces.... Ahem...

2. Work expands or contracts to fill available time.

I struggled to fit everything into my day when I had one child. If anything I'm a little more organised and efficient with two children, but I still struggle to fit everything into my day. Generally speaking, my level of struggle definitely did not worsen with the addition of a second child. Add a very demanding baby Spoodle, requiring constant supervision, into the equation and what do you get? That's right, no real difference to what I get done in a day. If anything, the house has been much tidier because  of number 3.

I conclude from this that that perpetual state of not quite fitting everything into my day is a fraud I'm perpetrating on myself. It's clearly a psychological barrier. Now I'll have to see what the Spoodle has to offer by way of a solution.

3. Pick up after yourself.

If something is on the floor, I need to pick it up before the Spoodle makes it a chew toy. The Spoodle is helping all of us form healthy habits that we didn't have enough incentive to properly assimilate before.

4. Embrace the transience of all things.

I have decluttered. Oh, how I have decluttered. I decluttered once; then read Kim John Payne's wonderful book, Simplicity Parenting, and then decluttered some more. I am still decluttering. In some areas I've really only just begun. In others, however, we are surrounded almost exclusively by objects that are useful or loved. Everything has a purpose, even if it is to look beautiful or make us happy.

I must admit, while I don't at all consider myself a materialistic person, it has pained me to find some of those remaining objects Spoodle-chomped. In this way, the Spoodle reminds me that all things are transient. It's right and good to value them and care for them, but a time will come to let them go and when it does, it's best just to exhale slowly and calmly send the Spoodle outside for a few minutes while you assess the damage.

5. A little bit of discipline is a good thing.

Whether it's self imposed or external, we all function better with a bit of firm gentle discipline. It helps us feel secure and calm. It helps us get things done. It helps distract us from licking a small child's tasty tasty ear. Even at this early stage, "Come" and "Sit" are proving powerful spoodle-wrangling tools.

Discipline and dried liver treats - a winning combination in any context.

6. Set out to make friends with everyone. - Don't stop wagging your tail even when they hiss in your face.

I think this is a good way to be. I'm not sure I can emulate it, however. I'm a sensitive soul and the hissing I encounter effects me more than it should, but I like that the Spoodle doesn't take Kitty's hissing too personally. A wag of the tail doesn't cost him much and Kitty really does seem to be coming around slowly (or at least her more recent hisses seem to lack their earlier gusto.)

7. You can never predict the path of friendship

Ni loves the Spoodle and the Spoodle loves Ni, let's be clear. He's a family dog, but ultimately, he is her baby. However, everything in Ni's body language and tone just happens to speak boisterous, pointy-toothed play to the Spoodle. From 'Hello' to 'Back off Spoodle, I'm trying to sleep.' the Spoodle hears, 'Let's play in an exuberant manner. Please feel free to jump on me and why not use your teeth for the purposes of mouthing?'

Ni is working to find her inner she-wolf and the Spoodle is being trained and will one day loose his mad puppy ways, so this will sort itself out soon enough.

In the meantime, while Ly still suffers the occasional unsolicited spoodling, for the most part, she and the puppy seem to have something of an understanding. He prances along beside her as she toddles about, demonstrating his ability to heel far better than he does for me and a liver treat. They play in the dirt together, digging side by side. He snuffles about under her highchair during meals; she drops most of her food down to him. She takes lovely, expensive toys down from low shelves and gives them to the Spoodle; he destroys them. At this stage in their respective developments, they seem perfectly matched.

When the Spoodle does get out of hand, Ly tends to either stand still, patiently waiting for rescue (which is always near at hand) or grab him in a firm headlock. Either of these methods seem infinitely more effective than Ni's technique of squeeing loudly while backing away on tiptoes.

8. Don't neglect old friends for the novelty of cute fluffy new ones. 

Old friends can sneak up and claw you when you least expect it... 

...Or they can drift away while you're pre-occupied and when you crave the things that only they can give you (like that warm contented purr), they may well have moved on to be with other friends who always remember that spot behind their ears where they like to be scratched.

9. Sometimes having more friends enhances existing relationships.

Perhaps it's only because she's seen her role as top pet on the food chain under threat, but Kitty has dropped a little of her customary aloofness and become far more affectionate with all of us since the Spoodle arrived. Today she lay tolerantly and allowed Ly to bend over and gently rub her little chest on Kitty's soft fluffy side. It was only when Ly touched her nose and giggled that she decided the whole experience was degrading and ponced off into another room.

Not that we should be aiming to make our friends jealous, of course, but often spending time with others will allow us to bring new perspectives to old friendships.

10. Sometimes it's best to just hand over a problem or challenge or Spoodle to someone better able to deal with it.

Or, if necessary, someone less able to deal with it, but more willing to give you a break from asking every two and a half minutes, "What the hell is he chewing on now?"

And that is why the Spoodle has been having sleepovers in the garage with That Guy.

That Guy is giving the Spoodle the rock-like calm he needs to find peace at bedtime and back in the house we are returning to the peace of our own bedtime rhythms, which after a long day, simply cannot accommodate an excitable Spoodle as well as two excitable children and a grumpy parent.

Convenience and Compromise

Like many people, I am living the kind of life right now where, simply by necessity, convenience often becomes paramount. There are so many situations where I am forced to take the long road or, in fact, where I choose it on principle, that whenever possible, I work to find short cuts.

Because we are gluten and dairy free, I cook most things from scratch. There really aren't too many convenience foods available to us and those that are are often poor quality, lacking nutrition or prohibitively expensive. Unfortunately, convenience also often comes at too great a cost to the earth in terms of over-packaging or unnecessary energy use. All of which serves to make convenience a topic with some baggage.

Add in the fact that I am time poor (and aren't we all?). We homeschool and so I am with my children most of the time. There is schoolwork and toddler herding to be slotted in around the cooking and cleaning and the all important homeschool social commitments.

Further, there is no village here helping to raise these children. Mostly now it's just me and That Guy doing the best we can. Friends and family are all at least thirty minutes' drive away and are often problematic as carers and helpers (or helpees for that matter) for a variety of reasons. We live in a fairly impoverished area where the rent is affordable on our modest income. Our local community is not one we ever really feel a part of, however. The culture and way of life here is quite foreign to our own and often it's difficult to connect in a meaningful way with the people that we meet locally.

Thus, convenience, with all it's drawbacks, becomes a priority and as a consequence, 'compromise' steps up as the word of the hour.

For instance, we use fitted cloth nappies that were given to us by a friend. Sometimes- all too often over this unusually wet summer - I've had to put a load of nappies in the drier when we've run out, instead of waiting for them to line dry. Occasionally I run out of nappies completely and I use a disposable nappy. I try to do it without guilt, knowing that I'm doing the best I can in this moment, although I might promise myself to be a little more diligent with the laundry tomorrow.

Recently we went through a period of a few months where the budget was tighter than usual. We had a little money in the bank to help us through, but some compromises needed to be made.

When both adults needed new every day shoes and the purchase couldn't be postponed any longer, we decided on $12 sneakers from Kmart, knowing well that they would only survive two or three months of constant wear. Ordinarily we would opt for genuine quality and value for money. It's less of a burden to the earth and it usually saves us money in the long term, but you can buy quite a few pairs of $12 shoes for the price of one pair of good quality shoes. Add ethical manufacture onto your list of shoe requirements and price and availability begins to pose problems for a family struggling to afford the basics. Thus, I try to allow myself the flexibility to stray from my path without regret whenever I deem it necessary.

Importantly, I also try to support others in the choices they make, even when those choices differ from mine. I accept that most people are doing their best to live well. If they are failing in one area, they're probably excelling in another. It would be presumptuous of me to try to dictate what their priorities should be. I'd like to think we are all contributing according to our strengths.

{this moment} - Hug

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

Inspired by SouleMama. 

Cocker Spoodle Do

I've been having trouble stringing two coherent words together on account of The Spoodle and his sleeping habits or more accurately, his waking habits. It wouldn't be so bad really if it weren't for the baby. The Spoodle sleeps through the night more or less and has been slowly stretching morning out to a more civilized hour. This morning he considerately got up at 6.30am to take himself off to the toilet. I only wish he'd taken himself outside first. I guess a small part of me (my conscious mind) knew what he was up to, but at the time, that extra half hour of rest seemed very important. Less so, of course, later when I stepped on a stray spoodle poo in the hallway.

Unfortunately, the baby, who I suspect may be in cahoots with The Spoodle, has been teething and snuffly-headed and thus has been keeping us up later than we would like. So just at the moment, we're caught between a night owl and an early bird. And you know what they say, 'A bird in the bed is worth nothing if the other bird runs in and wakes the first bird by licking her head or conversely lying on him to feel his soft soft fur on her chest.' Or something...

Possibly in cahoots

As you might have noticed, I am enjoying calling The Spoodle, 'The Spoodle'. In spite of the obvious suggestion that she call him, 'Kitty', Ni dubbed him Timothy, or Timmy for short. We can thank Enid Blyton and the wonderful adventures of the Famous Five for that one. It does offer the opportunity to shake one's finger and say, 'TIMOTHY J SPOODLE!' in an outraged tone when he perpetrates some fresh crime against humanity or a shoe or whatnot. As a title, however, 'The Spoodle' offers some indefinable quality that 'Timmy' simply does not. Having said that though, if you were going to go to the trouble to breed a cocker spaniel and a poodle, why, oh why, wouldn't you take that golden, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to call the resulting puppy a 'cocker poodle do'?

{this moment} - Move Over!

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

Inspired by SouleMama. 

Kitteeee!

Lately I've been looking at our rug and thinking, 'You know, I don't think that rug gets poo-ed and wee-ed on enough. And wow, I get waaay more sleep than I need. I can almost function at the intellectual level of a very clever baboon." And so for her tenth birthday this month - a big one for her, we bought Ni a puppy; a spoodle, in fact. Part cocker spaniel; part poodle; all love. I'm pretty sure it's actually illegal in this country to own a family dog that doesn't have at least a dash of oodle.

Blue eyes.

The first night went more or less as you would expect. That Guy had to pick the spoodle up after work. It was a long drive, so he arrived home quite late. We wrapped a purple ribbon around the box and gave him to Ni right away. She was literally shaking with excitement to find a puppy inside the box she had been led to believe contained special honey for her birthday. Yes she really believes we're that lame.

It was well after midnight when she could calm herself enough to sleep. There was much to-ing and fro-ing and errant sputter-inducing licking in the meantime. I tried to insist the spoodle sleep in her bed (apparently my commitment to attachment parenting extends to the pets), but already licked raw, she wasn't having it, so as a compromise we made a place on the corner of my bed, adjoining hers.

The cat just milled about, looking petulent and nervous and a little annoyed at the spoodle's utterly blasé attitude towards her.

At about 1.30am, the spoodle became restless, which, of course, should have been a sign, but I was feeling indolent by that stage and so ended up cleaning up the first of many (I'm sure) spoodle messes. Finally the spoodle settled, rolled onto his back and was dead to the world. I had to check him a couple of times to ensure he wasn't simply dead.

At 5.30am the baby rolled over and discovered the spoodle on the bed. Much excited giggling and yelling of, 'Kitteeee! Kitteeee!' ensued. I took that as a sign and the baby and I rugged up and took the spoodle outside. This morning, I assume, our nearest neighbours awoke in the dark to the sound of, 'Kitteee! Kitteee!' We went inside. I fed the spoodle. The baby played until she got tired of the incessant licking and stopped yelling, 'Kitteeee!' and then we returned to bed. By this time it was 7am and I was now referring to the spoodle as, 'Kitty'.

At 7.20am, That Guy came into the house to get ready for work, waking the baby, who immediately began to yell, 'Kitteeee!' Thankfully the kitty had once again slipped into unconsciousness and I managed to distract the baby with a timely offer of breastmilk.

At 7.40am the kitty suddenly noticed the actual kitty and began to bark. I assume if I spoke spoodle, I would have heard him yelling, 'Kitteeee! Kitteeee!' Ni awoke and started fussing over His Royal Cuteness. I took that as a sign and took the kitty (not the actual kitty) outside, whereupon That Guy began fussing over His Royal Cuteness, until the last of my patience petered out and I snapped (lovingly, of course), 'For heaven's sake stop patting him so he can poo and I can go back to bed!'

At 8am I returned to bed. More Ni fussing. More kitty licking, so I sent them both out into the other room where I could hear her admonishing him gently every three to five seconds for some kitty shenanigan or other.

At 8.20am, the baby woke up, rolled over, looked at the spot where the kitty had slept, grinned and said 'Kitteeee!' I took it as a sign and finally gave up all hope of rest.

Moments before walking into the fence because the 

coconut shell obscured his vision. Apparently it's the 

spaniel part that makes them so intelligent!

Yellow

Believe it or not, I have been attempting to teach myself to sew. I've bought a little fabric, but mostly I've been cutting up old t-shirts and other clothes my mother and aunt gave me, along with small amounts of redundant fabric from their stashes.

It can feel quite magical crafting a particularly beautiful piece of writing, but there is something uniquely satisfying in creating a useful object where one didn't exist before. I've made a few things for N and even a t-shirt for myself, but mostly I've been making clothes for L, since she's too little to complain.

This 90 minute shirt is rough around the edges and the back neckline doesn't sit right, but for some reason, L really loves it. Maybe because the t-shirt material is old and soft. Or maybe she loves the bright yellow. She insists on wearing it whenever she sees it and smiles gleefully when she has it on, rubs her be-shirted belly with her little hands and points to the heart on the front. I have nothing much to say about this, it just makes me feel very happy.