Really?

I just logged on and my account told me quite irreverently that is has been 2 and a half months since I have posted. I'm so sorry.... Blogger, anyone who reads, creative self! Thankfully my mojo is returning as rapidly as I type.  I am not even sure how the time lapse occurred but it feels good to be back.  I guess it was just life that took over.  School holidays, road trips and now the girls birthdays have all featured high on the four kid family radar the last few months.  But with the new year I am embracing the joy I find in reflecting in print.  Despite this my time is short today as I am off to toast some lentil granola, bake the beginnings of a Peppa Pig cake and find a recipe for tofu burgers.  So... see you sooner rather than later.

Cakes, Capes and witches Hats

There is a pattern to my creativity and I really don’t understand it fully.  All I know is that since Eric’s birthday on Monday I have been itching to make.  Cakes, capes and witches hats are just a couple of the things that have been turned out this week.  I have my heart set on another cape but I fear that time will not allow today. We are off to celebrate a birthday with a beautiful almost three year old on Saturday and I would love to arrive bearing a creation.  Perhaps if I shift from this blog post and talking about being creative to some more pressing admin I will be able to steal some moments at my machine later in the day.  Just before I go this is what I have my eye on ….

http://biglittletales.blogspot.com.au/2011/09/mini-baby-cape.html

A coming of (school) age!

The heat is thick outside our back door but inside the coolness is clear and thoughtful.  The kids are pottering and I am having a moment that I know already will be only too brief.  I will, I have decided fill it with writing in the hope that this creative burst may project me faster through the other tasks at hand.  The holidays have ended free of drama and as if by some magic we are catapulted toward the end of the year and all that means for our family.  2014 marks the end of a season in our lives.  Our boy will no longer be a preschooler and with his coming of school age comes an overwhelming flood of mixed feelings.  It feels there will be an ease, not that Kindergarten is without its challenges but it is also a year of maturing, of changing. I am excited about a year of new and creative moments for Master five and for his mumma.

Soon my boy, soon...

Change

In the face of a weekend full of fear - fuelled messages and results that create apprehensiveness at best I am choosing to set my own personal and political tone. One of gratitude and engagement over criticism (which I am a little prone to at times).

I am grateful that I live in a country where I can continue to speak loudly and clearly when I see injustice.

I am grateful that I can make my own contributions financially, practically and emotionally to community well being.

And I am grateful for my family and friends who form a wise and nurturing community around me and are like-minded about caring for others and being inclusive.

I am grateful for the sunshine that propagates this optimism and proactive feeling in me.

A baby on the way (not mine)

There is something about the anticipation of a birth that I find utterly thrilling. The miracle, the mystery, the longing, even the anxiety that hold an ancient drawing. An excitement even in its mention. Perhaps in part it is an excitement founded in my own experience. The changing that happened in birthing for me. Perhaps it is the connectedness that women find in the life event of giving birth... Maybe it is just where my heart is at this time. Whatever its cause I feel good and alive and strong. What a privilege being a Doula

Traveling with four - stories and more

I’m standing in our cold Randwick kitchen boiling the kettle for a late night hot drink.  The bedrooms are quiet.  ‘The Churros in Barcelona are amazing I reminisce absentmindedly to husband’.  He smiles.    It has only been two weeks since our return and despite the memories still being strong it feels like a lifetime ago already. 

Before embarking on our 5 week trip with our four children who are 7, 5, 3 and almost 1 year old I read many things, it feels right. First I search for blogs, then packing checklists, things to do with children, famous playgrounds, I googled it all.  Surprisingly there aren’t a huge number of people travelling with four small children, three of whom are preschool age. Even less people are writing about it.

In reality the ratio of unplanned events on this holiday were far higher than those I organised based on my research. It was in essence the unprompted acts of kindness and the plethora of unpredictably serendipitous moments that made our journey what it was – a crazy, eventful, delicious and at times insanely stressful adventure. 

There are so many things I want to be able to say to somehow cajole those teetering on the brink of the decision to travel with small children. While talking about Rome, Barcelona, The Andalucía coast, Lisbon or Bintan Island may be impressive (or make you question our sanity) it feels a poor attempt at sharing the essence of the holiday that was the catalyst the change, love, growth, awe and excitement I saw every day in each little face that we dragged on ridiculous numbers of planes around silly numbers of countries.  Five weeks away from home with family exploring outside our world is good for the soul.

Just like a recipe (for life)

It's a small white table, pre loved... With two wooden chairs tucked neatly under. Tonight it is the homework table. Some nights it is a dinner table. It is a place miss Seven likes to sit. She is not happy right now though. We have tried for some minutes to come to a shared understanding of her homework question. We have failed. I stop, we are silent, I can see she is tired and now increasingly frustrated. So much like me at times it is heartbreaking to watch. I think hard and in a moment of clarity I say lets read it like a recipe and step by step the question is answered beautifully. I tell miss seven that I am so proud that she persisted past her frustration to understanding. I tell myself the same.