snow play park, canal walk

*this is a guest post, by Friday*

Last night Mum and I went to the Snow Play Park. We were on a special list. When we walked in a lady gave me a HUGE stick of candyfloss and Mum a HUGE glass of wine.
We were both very happy.

It was magical, with all the decorations and lights. I saw a giant snow globe, but it didn't turn upside down, and it looked like there were huge candy-canes everywhere.

Mum's friend told her it would be really cold, so we brought lots of coats which we didn't need at all. But I was happy I had my mittens when I played in the 'snow pit'. It was like sand but not as easy to build with and very, very cold!

Because it was the first night there were snacks and face-painting and icy cold drinks, and we could go on all the rides for free!

The rides were my best part. We had to drag our little boats up, up, up a long slope and then wait for the man to give us a push so we could slide down.
Mum came after me and I know I heard her screaming although she said she didn't. Mum said grown-ups go faster because they are heavier and for once she was happy to have a big bum.

I went on each ride lots of times, standing in line wasn't that much fun but there were lots of lights and decorations to look at.

I wish we could go back there everyday, but Mum says she doesn't really like shopping centres that much. 

I think she's mad.

*Thank you Canal Walk for kindly inviting us to the launch event for their 2013 Snow Play Park. Friday had heaps of fun!*

twinkle star photography

Much earlier this year I won a family photo shoot with Twinkle Star Photography by answering the question: why do you think you should win this shoot?
I answered that we should win because Friday was losing teeth at a rate of knots and we should get some pics before she became a gap-toothed monster, and I won!

Months later I finally got it together to free up an afternoon and the lovely Sam arrived to take our pictures. We settled down for tea and chat to get the girls (and me!) at ease, whereupon Friday promptly popped a tooth! We did laugh!

Sam quickly had us all feeling very comfortable, and the girls and I pottered around as we would on a normal afternoon.

I'd had my reservations about the shoot - I'm not a formal portrait person and definitely didn't want it to be too cheesy ... but Sam was super, she totally got where I was coming from and in our pre-shoot chats quickly recommended a more documentary style, lifestyle photography it's called.

Basically, photos of our lives.

With Sam cleverly catching snippets of our home and other quirky details (love those sneakers!) in between. I think this gives so much more depth to the collection of pics she's given us, and I've a feeling I'll treasure this memory, tying a little girl's shoe, as much as the shots of us together.

Later we headed outside into the wild wind for the great afternoon light, and some horse-play.

Thank you Sam for a wonderfully relaxed and fun afternoon, and for capturing such lovely moments in the lives of my crazy little ones and I. 

I just know the glow of these pictures will become more golden and magical as these little girls grow up, up and away.

big girl talk

I really don't know how people with lots of kids (like, more than two) do it. Trying to find time for them all when one, or some, of them are more demanding of that time than others.

Since she could crawl Sunday's been ace at picking up that Friday and I are about to have a meaningful conversation, and scooting over to insert herself between us and have AN EVEN MORE MEANINGFUL ONE ABOUT ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AND MUCH MUCH LOUDER.

One does always seem to have more one-on-one time with the youngest as it is. She's home with me at least one morning a week, not yet going off on play dates by herself, and still much more physically clingy.
And it's great, it's lovely to have the time to spend with her.

But my big girl needs me too.

A year ago Friday found a tampon in my bag and asked me what it was. I was quite pleased with myself for replying that it was 'very hygienically sealed cotton wool' - an honest answer which neatly evaded any discussions about bleeding from the vejayjay or inserting foreign bodies there, both concepts I felt needn't be introduced to a barely 5 year old.
But today she found some again, and this time she asked, 'What are these really Mum?'.
So this time I told her.
In between Sunday prattling on about a hundred unrelated things and trying to climb on my back and get Friday to teach her the words to a song about a scarecrow.
This is not how I'd envisaged having these woman-to-woman type conversations with my daughters.
Plus, I'm bargaining on only having to go through this stuff once, so I need Friday to have grasped the concept well enough to pass it on to her younger sister (if and when she ever stops to listen) with the least possible terrifying misinformation.

Later, it being a TV watching day, she asked for The Lorax, but I persuaded her to watch David Attenborough instead. It's been a while.
So they watched The Great Tide, and when those sardines started running and the thousands of dolphins came a-leaping and the gannets were dive-bombing and the sharks were circling and Sir David himself was almost hysterical with the drama of it all, she turned to me with eyes shining and said, 'I'd forgotten how exciting this is!'

This evening we put the girls to bed separately. Even though they share a room we split them up for bed time and I lay in my bed with Friday and answered some questions about menstruation and sharks and how movies are made and what David Attenborough is probably really like.
I read her a chapter of Laura Ingalls Wilder and then inevitably had to lie with her to ward off panthers as she fell asleep.

And while she dozed off I held her tight (that is until she muttered that she 'couldn't breathe') and thought about how my big girl needs me for many things.
She needs me to have big girl talks but she also needs to me to remind her that she still loves David Attenborough when the call of loud and colourful Hollywood is becoming so much louder, to sing silly scarecrow songs together, to acquaint her with the literary friends who saw me through adolescence and I hope will be there for her too.

And you know what, I need her. I need to have big girl talks and sing silly songs and be reminded that nature is awesome and boys are gross and lipstick is only really cool when it's on so thick you can't grin. I need to find more one-on-one time for all that.

self portraits

Saturday morning drawings.

Friday: I'm an angel Mum, bringing joy and happiness to the world. (Wise ass.)

Sunday: I'm a monster.

From the mouths of babes. Anyone who'd like to tell me again 'shame, it must've been those bad ears which was making her so difficult' should come and spend a couple of days in our house #justsaying.

always be a unicorn

Last week Friday turned 6. I think I gloated enough about the wonderful child she is here, so I'll just say this:

She is magnificent.



The awe and wonder on her face here is magnificent.

Also, how could it not be when presented with this?

And playing through our heads the whole time last Friday evening, after a morning in hospital with the grommets, and at the tail end of a super busy week, as Husband flexed his exceptional icing skills and I painted plastic unicorns silver and filled ice cream cones with sweets and hung streamers and packaged the last of those %!&## fizz balls ...

Always be a unicorn my sweet girl!

found in my notebook

Turns out witnessing someone learn to read and write is just as exciting as it was watching them start to walk and talk all those years ago.

The world just opened its arms to her a little wider.

TGIF

Hey, remember my other kid?

You know, the one I've not really mentioned for posts and posts because of all the erhmagerd-3-year-old-from-hell type stuff that's been going on here lately?

Well she's still around. And she is just ... adorable. Really truly, 5 has been so very wonderful that I must admit to being a little apprehensive about 6. Surely this high of chatty curious sweet-natured playful fun must precede a low of emo angst?

We're seeing glimpses ... There's been some crying for no particular reason. There was an inexplicable meltdown because I got water on her new strawberry legwarmers (while filling a water balloon for her) because 'Now they're all weeeeeeeeeet!' There are some requests for her sister to leave her alone, some calls for peace and quiet.

But for the most part Friday is my fun, my sanity, my darling. And, in the same way Sunday's delightful baby-ness helped me get through her older sister's Tyrannical Three's, Friday's Fabulous Five is helping me get through them this time round.

She is patient. She is kind. She loves her sister so much. She is always ready with a cuddle, a chat, a song. She says thank you. Her laugh has the power to crack my darkest mood.

We're reading Little House in the Big Woods - an enormously important and precious moment for me, sharing my childhood love with a child of my own.

We're talking about her teacher's gay relationship, Mr Mandela and brand assimilation (she rolls her eyes while I rant about people forcing little girls to think everything they own must be slathered in Barbie).
We listen to the radio and when she notes that 'this guy's not really singing hey Mum, more like talking', and I say it's called 'rap' music she asks, 'Is that because he's talking rapidly?
Wow, maybe it is?

There's some growing up happening, no doubt. Suddenly she knows who Taylor Swift is, and Justin 'Beaver'.  She got a brain worm the other day, saying HannahMontanaHannahMontanaHannahMontana - it does roll off the tongue quite nicely - and she dances gangnam style.

But she'll still romp in the sea in her knickers given half a chance. Collecting plough shells her lips will move as she tells herself some story.
Her eyes will still light up at the first whiff of an 'imagining'. She makes a game out of almost anything.
She'd give her life to David Attenborough if he'd have her.

Basically, in the words of Robert Smith:

I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too

Thursday I don't care about you

It's Friday, I'm in love

the Next Big Thing

'Twas many months ago that Katherine Barrett, Canadian writer, editor, mother, blogger, tagged me to write about my Next Big Thing.
For a while back then my Next Big Thing was going to be both girls starting school and getting some of my life back, but alas that didn't happen.

Since then my Next Big Thing has pretty much amounted to managing a shower once every 24 hours, not drowning anyone in the lake, not developing a real alcohol problem and losing a couple of kilograms. Not totally riveting stuff really.

But! Now I'm on to something! Now I think I've found the Thing and boy is it going to be Big! Finally I can complete the task Katherine set me all those months ago.

May I present, what I predict will be the NEXT BIG THING ... drum roll ...

The Toenail Fairy!

Yup, you read it here first.

She lost it today after an incident a number of weeks ago involving a falling dining room chair and an ill-timed dash across the room - the intersection of big toe and chair was one of those bizarrely unfortunate quirks of fate.
The nail has slowly been saying its goodbyes, loath to leave the feet of such an adventurous young lady I'd guess. In the interim a few teeth have come out, necessitating a couple of visits from the Toenail Fairy's more well-known cousin ....
'There isn't really a Tooth Fairy hey Mum? It's actually you isn't it?'
'What would you like to believe sweetie?'
No answer.
A sly smile and the subject is dropped.

Like the toenail really.

Why shouldn't there be a Toenail Fairy anyway? It's a rarer and more momentous event then most teeth falling out. Usually accompanied by an exciting back story and always the subject of morbid fascination in the weeks it takes to finally fall off, why shouldn't the lose of a toenail be marked? Celebrated even?

But what does the Toenail Fairy bring is still a question.

Well, Hot Pink nail polish for one. Of course. Some chocolate money and a small plastic ballerina. To vouch that one day she'll be up on her toes again, even if it's a bit painful right now.

So what do you think? The Next Big Thing or setting a dangerous precedent? Time will tell ...

loving them fiercely

Phone pic, Main Rd Diepriver

Friday started Grade R last week. She's been so excited about it for so long and, as is her way, glided straight into a new environment with nary a backward glance.
I'm in such awe at how well she embraces change.
This 'big school' thing has awakened stuff in me though. Of course. Concerned thoughts about a future in which, invariably, we'll face a time when she doesn't think I'm such a fun person to hang out with. A time when she'll have secrets, have fears that she'll not share, a time when she'll not laugh at my silly jokes but roll her eyes and groan.
I've found myself, somewhat pathetically I admit, feeling triumphant when I have made her laugh this week. Feeling grateful for the big hugs I've gotten, my heart singing when she jumped into my arms after that first day of school and whispered 'I love you Mum'.
Each moment from the womb that imaginary umbilical cord stretches just a little further, but last week I felt its tug so sharply.

With Sunday I had almost the opposite experience.

The pre-school we'd signed her up for last year turned out to be a total dud. Disengaged staff, dirty and broken toys, cat poo in the sand pit (loads of cat poo at that). At first I felt like a fool, why had I not seen the obvious flaws when I'd visited last year? Then I felt like a snob, we were so spoiled by her previous, magnificent, play school that maybe my standards were too high? Then I felt angry - I've visited pre-schools in townships with almost no equipment, where the smell of cleaning detergent is so strong it'll make your eyes water - clean, happy schools run by underpaid people determined to give every child the best experience they can - there is NO excuse for bad hygiene in schools for little people.
So we left, Sunday and I, and went out for breakfast to regroup.
And as we chatted at the table, that umbilical cord shrunk a little. I had been about to reel my youngest out a bit, to send her off a little further into the world without me. Now she'll be home for a while as we come up with another plan, home alone with me.

That 2013 To Do list will have to simmer on the back burner for a little longer. I'll get there, I'll get there.

fear factor

I caught a little bit of a fascinating talk on the Redi Thlabi Show about the different roles mothers and fathers play in their children's lives. It was interesting because her guest (whose name I didn't get!) had some pretty unique and fresh input, more than the staid 'mothers teach you to nurture and fathers to throw a ball' kind of crap.

One of my best things was he said that an important role of fathers is to teach their daughters to be fearless. He expanded: fearless to hammer a nail/ trust a man/ jump off a high rock/ stand by her convictions/ argue a point/ be vulnerable/ be pretty.
And then I got to where I was going and had to turn the radio off. I wish I could have carried on listening.

But I've been thinking about it a lot since.

I think Husband's doing pretty well on this. He gave Friday the fearlessness to take on that big swing, and she regularly enjoys a little adrenalin rush on the back of his bike (in the road outside our house, going really slowly...).

She's proving to be strong and confident pushing herself off on a borrowed paddle-ski last weekend with nary a fear or hesitation.

It does my heart proud to see my girls being courageous. And I think I'm not bad at encouraging their bravado myself.

There's a very steep pedestrian bridge near our house and it was on my watch that the girls started careening down it on their black plastic pushbikes, screeching down at heart-stopping speeds all screams of delight and burning rubber off the soles of their sneakers, drawing appreciative glances from the teenage skate-boarders milling around.
I was thrilled with my little daredevils.

Ironically though the first time their father witnessed this activity he was horrified. As the girls flew down the bridge towards us he couldn't look - crouching on the ground covering his face babbling about skin grafts and hospital stays.
I was forthwith stripped of my title of Super Cool Mum and instead branded Negligent Parent of the Week, and a new rule was decreed:
Helmets!

I guess it's all about finding that balance between their fearlessness and our own ...

dinosaur cake

My brother and father both have birthdays this week, and this year their combined age is 100! We begged volunteered to bake them a cake and Friday, completely lacking in irony, declared it would be dinosaur themed.
And then proceeded to art direct the crap out of it.

No cut-out dinosaur shaped cake (as envisioned by me), nope - she very specifically brought home this dinosaur picture from school and declared that we'd use it for the shape 'on top of the cake Mum'. 
And in the bank of buy-by-weight candy in the supermarket she honed in on these chocolate-covered sunflower seeds for being 'just the right dinosaur colours'.

All I was to do was to provide the sheet cake (baked, I must add, almost entirely by Sunday who's become an ace at cracking eggs - although her two year old tactile sensitivity still makes her shriek after every addition 'Clof! Clof Mummy! Egg on haaaaaaand!')

She was even allowed to assist in the decor, while big sister hovered by.

Not bad huh? I shudder with fear that soon I may have to relinquish full control over their own birthday cakes.

With some flaked almond 'spines' and a single candle eye, Dino was ready to face extinction on my Mum's pretty birthday tea table.

Happy hundredth birthday lovely men in my life!

how to make friends and influence people

The 5 year old approach.

1. Scan immediate area for possible candidates. Remain alert at all times.
The beach, playground, open field next to your house - all of these are places which could produce your next BFF. Stay attune to the sounds of young voices at play, or even shrieking at their parents - both are signs of possible compatibility.

2. Approach with subtlety, and zero fear of rejection. There are various methods.
Start mimicking the existing game, whether it be jumping over waves and screeching, or quietly collecting daisy petals. Continue until your presence is noticed.
Another tactic is to engage the subject's younger/older sibling in a game. But never lose sight of the real prize,  no matter how fun the game at hand, keep an eye on your chosen candidate, you're winning when they start looking sour.

3. Swoop in.
'Come help me get the ball away from your brother.'
WINNER. I could not be prouder of her subtle and devious tactics.
'Here's an interesting shell, would you like it for your collection?'
Another goodie.
'Whaaaa, I just farted and fell over in the water!'
Not as impressive, to me, but the target is now putty in her hands - entranced and utterly hooked.

4. Play like you've known each other forever.
Fairy garden fairy garden fairy garden princess dress pirate capture feed ducks shark attack harass younger siblings sand castle fairy garden here comes the bride cast some spells fairy garden dragon fireman fart daisy chain fairy garden.

5. Keep 'em keen.
Ask, after an hour's play, 'What's your name again?'

Come home deeply satisfied with peer encounter and secure in the knowledge that you've cemented your presence in the world just a little bit more.

Ah, that making friends remained this easy. And simple!

hug adjustment

A friend and I were chatting on the weekend about the challenges of divvying out equal hug rations to our children.

The small girl is an easy hug, she still fits (barely) into the crook of my arm, she can be hoicked up onto a hip. She's still in a nappy, still rounded, her head fits under my chin. I don't have to think about it much.

But hugging a 5 year old with gangly limbs and sharper angles, with longer hair to get in my nose, heavier in body weight and conversation, is more challenging. She still wants hugs, but logistically it takes more care.

I guess there's an evolutionary aspect to it. Our children grow up, and like chicks who no longer fit under their mother's wing they have to start learning to find their own way. They need to learn to self-soothe, to be confident in their place in the world and the family without the continual physical reassurance of mum's arms.

But as those hugs get fewer they also, as I think about it, get more meaningful. Now I need to take the time to sit down, kneel down, lie down, to physically accommodate my big baby. I'm incapable of doing anything else at the same time so I focus more. 

I sniff that nose-tickling hair, stroke those sharp shoulders and thin, strong limbs. I listen to what she's saying, really listen. I tell her to stop fidgeting and tell her, again, how small she was when she was born, how her hair was black and her face so very red.

She doesn't stick around as long. There's a world to conquer, a sister to bully, some ducks to chase.

She still wants hugs, long may that last, but she needs them less. Her world is expanding as those limbs grow.

Powered by a growing sense of self, she comes back for recharging less frequently, and I'm learning to appreciate it each time she does. 

Even as my thighs go numb from her bony bum.

packing with kids

Apparently the heart is because we love baking.

We love it so much that it's probably not a bad thing all the gear is packed away. Possibly we should archive this box once we get to the other side ...

But who am I kidding right?

we P'd on the beach

This year was the first time I got Friday involved in a Madiba Day activity.

We chatted about Nelson Mandela and why people were 'giving back' etc. I keep this kind of thing light with her, she has a particularly sensitive radar to 'Mum's trying to teach me something' and starts tuning out if she thinks I'm being too instructive.
Her ears totally perked up when I explained that we'd be spending our 67 minutes on the beach however, especially as 18 July was a rare and magnificent warm winter's day.

I'd picked up on the event via a friend on Twitter, and it sounded like a great way to do good - the goal was to win the R10 000 prize posted by a local radio station to invest in a shelter for previously trafficked women and children - get involved in our future community, the project and the shelter are based in Muizenberg, near our new home - possibly meet some potential friends from that community and, ahem, did I mention hang out on the beach?
Yes please.

So off we went, and spent a fun hour or so standing around on the Muizenberg dunes spelling out 'We (heart) Goodhope FM' in silhouette with our bodies. Friday and I were the 'P', me holding her with her legs wrapped around my waist and her back arched out - what's not to love about a dedicated chunk of time cuddling with my big girl?

Photo by Craig Wilson, www.surfers-corner.co.za

And we won! How satisfying.

I could P myself with delight!

the pink princess

Oh it was inevitable really. The first sign was her declaration, some weeks back, that she was going to buy a 'Barbie statue' with her birthday money from Ouma.
(A pretty astute comment as my sister-in-law pointed out, for is Barbie not much more statue looking than traditional dolly?).

The second sign was her asking me, seconds before opening her birthday presents, 'Is there a PRINCESS dress Mum?'
Oh.

As it turns out there wasn't. I'd really not picked up that she wanted one. But she did. And though she showed no disappointment with the gifts she did receive (sweet girl) there was a quiet determination that a pink princess dress would be procured.

So off we went to the Fairy Shop with purse stuffed with Ouma's birthday money (plus Christmas AND last birthday's money too ...), where she spotted The One right away.
And has hardly taken it off since.

 

It seems even the most tom-boyish girl will have a princess-phase. Five is probably the perfect time to indulge it I think.

Not being a particularly 'girly' girl myself I didn't see this one coming. I didn't encourage it and to be truthful, I didn't think I'd really enjoy it. 

But can you see the joy? Can you see it swirling and twirling around inside her and out? Can you see she's still choosing to pair the dress with high-top sneakers?

It's a thing of great beauty.

I think I'll dig out my old Peaches 'n Cream Barbie for her tomorrow ... Feels like it'll kinda suit the theme.

peacock cake!

This year Friday decided she wanted a Peacock Party for her 5th birthday. This is how that came about ...

A few months back -
Her: 'Mum, I want a Hello Kitty party for my birthday.'
Me: Silence

A few weeks later -
'Mum, I want a Fairy party for my birthday.'
Silence.

A few days later -
'Mum, I want a Peacock party for my birthday.'
Me: 'Great idea! We can use the beaded peacock on the patio for inspiration, and have blue, green and gold balloons, and feathers, and glitter and ... and ... and ...'

Manipulative? Me? Never.

We pretty much blew our glitter quota on the invitations, but we had peacock themed party favours ...

scented tea light candles wrapped up with an extra-long match and some chocolates ~ for a little bath time treat

... and peacock coloured decor.

I had SO much fun scouring Pinterest for peacock cake ideas, but the thought of all those colours got a little overwhelming - until I remembered how taken Friday had been with the white (albino) peacock we saw at the World of Birds last December.

And so, tah-daaaaa!

with a little blue surprise inside

'Cos I think I'm incapable of a plain coloured cake after last year's.

Again this was actually pretty easy ... I used the Barbie cake mould from my closest cake-hire store and, I confess, bought the heart-shaped cookies (baking them would've added another stage to the whole production which I didn't have time for). I piped the designs onto the biscuits with royal icing and added edible glitter for a sparkle.
Husband engineered the head - bamboo skewer, polystyrene egg shape, googly-eyes, pearl-headed pins and some feathers.

Success!

why why why wasn't this pic in focus??!

Happy peacock birthday Friday Five!

friday turns five

All of last week was about this monumental birthday in our household. Every birthday feels like a momentous one when you're raising small children but 5, 5 felt pretty damn phenomenal.

5 is all about ....

... proving you can touch your ear over your head
... having (the first!) wobbly tooth
... proudly showing your age with a whole handful of fingers
... looking forward to starting 'Great R' (Grade R) and possibly wearing a 'unicorn'!
... learning to tie your own shoe laces
... feeling very grown-up but also,
... needing to be reassured that you're still small enough to be cuddled and babied
... being oh so very lovely and chatty and interested and insightful and thoughtful and considerate and ...

entrancing your parents more and more every day.

Happy birthday my first, my eldest, my extremely special big girl.

eyes forward

Shew it's been a rough few weeks!

Sickness, property stress, an intermittent (i.e. never when I need it) internet connection ... the list could go on.

This house selling / buying business has been all-consuming - stressing me out in so many ways. The strain of keeping the house permanently show-house ready, the nagging worry that another (cash) offer will go in on our dream house, trying not to show too much concern in front of the kids, the insomnia! It's been ... all-consuming and actually so very, very boring.

Which is why I love Friday's chosen birthday party theme: peacocks! Symbol of regeneration, hope and renewal - eyes forward to face the future, colour in the darkness etc. It seems very fitting.

I found a printable peacock invite design online and the girls spent a happy afternoon decorating them chucking glitter about.

As the girls get older I love how we're developing family traditions, especially around festivities. Last year was the first time Friday was involved with creating her own birthday party invitations and she especially loved playing postman, walking or driving round to her friends houses and slipping the envelopes into their postboxes.
This year, before we'd even made the invites, she was already excitedly talking about doing that again.

eish what a crappy photo

Check your postboxes over the next few days ... if you're really lucky you'll get one of the invites Sunday painted!

baking brags # 3: rainbow cake

It's nearly June. And as our house buying / selling situation gets no closer to resolution but infinitely more tedious and nerve-wracking and all-consuming by the day, I've decided to direct my energies (yup, all of them) to something far more fun and important: Friday's 5th birthday party.

My greatest concern is how on earth I'm going to top this beauty, the 6 layer rainbow cake I baked for last years party.

 

 pre-outer icing, with the wooden rainbow puzzle which inspired it all

the birthday girl

It was a surprise, lovingly (and with not too many expletives) assembled the night before her party and stashed in the guest bathroom until The Great Reveal.

I was a little concerned that a plain white (albeit very big) cake would seem a little disappointing to her, but I think her face once we cut into it says it all ... later that evening she told me that she wasn't at all concerned when she first saw it as she 'knew it would be special'. My heart.

It was a winner cake, and a fabulous Rainbow Birthday Party ... now what to do this year .... ?