Social Etiquette and Christmas Cards

It all started off with mostly good intentions. We are house bound with a tired toddler, a vomiting 4 year old and a 6 year old with an elephantine ankle following a nasty bee sting. In a effort to make the best of a bad day, I got festive. A couple of weeks ago I bought some christmas stamps, for the sole purpose of converting the piles of discarded artworks lying around the house into christmas cards (recycling, aka typically cheap). Never mind that they are mostly droid battle scenes and dinosaur/monsters killing each other with extensive weaponry caches. But now the whole exercise has become a lesson in social etiquette. Little brother made a intricate card, stamped his name carefully on it, and decided to keep it for himself. Then he fell back to sleep. Big Brother has been prolific in his jingle-bell generosity, working on cards for all the boys at school. Now that he can write there's no on-the-spot editing possible by mum. These were the range of his messages Dear A, Please invite me to your house. Dear B, Hope you have a christmas. Dear C, You are my third best friend. (I suggested that while might be true was it really necessary to write it down so black-and-white/honest? 'Perhaps you will hurt your friends feelings?' I asked. 'But Mum,' he replied, 'thats what he calls me!' 'Carry on then.' I capitulated.) Dear D, Have a good trip to Africa. (Are they going to africa for christmas? I asked. 'No, he replied, I meant to write I hope you HAD a good trip to Africa. Last Christmas.) Dear E, Happy Birthday. Dear F and G, Happy Christmas. ('I wrote that one to both of them' he showed me, obviously proud of his corner cutting abilities. 'Oh, great, which one gets to take it home? I asked. He cracked up laughing, 'Don't know!' he said. We laughed at the thought of how they'd have to decide.) Then came the envelopes. He put them all in and sealed them. 'Have you written the right person's name on the front? I asked, helpfully 2 minutes too late. He ripped them out of the envelopes and put them in new ones. He wrote their names on the front. Job done. Phew. Next year we'll probably go for a simple message on his Club Penguin page. Snail mail is so complicated and frankly, so, like, 2011.

From the mouth of the babe

Emerging from the babble are real and actual words. Usually just one at a time, but there is a self belief written all over her face as she looks you in the eye, grabs your nose in a killer grip, and says 'Mouth'. Or points to the sky and says 'Boat.' Up until now we have had names, and the two most useful words in the world - 'More' and 'NO'. I say 'Have you had enough?' and she says. 'No. More. K?" She has recently added the opposite of 'more ' which is 'Nuff', but it is not usually used in conjunction with food - rather if she is being bear hugged by her brother she yells out 'NUFF!' Each word is a complete sentence with full stop. This is an example of a conversation we might have. A: 'EreeDada?' (she uses sign language of hands palm upwards for where is..) Me: He's at work. A. Work. Me: He's gone to work in the car. A: Car. Me: He's gone to work in the blue car. A. Blue. Like a little computer she absorbs the data and spits it out the other end. I'm not the only one she copies, as I found out a few days ago. We were leaving the Polling Booth, and she turned and waved at the nice polling lady who'd given her a sticker - 'Bye Bye. See-ya. Poo Bum.'

Testosterone Surges

Beware the 4 and half year old boy. This is the age of the testosterone surge, which in Little brothers case means lots of fighting games, poo jokes, increased appetite and crazily physical behaviour. The best remedy is an older brother to wrestle with and be put into place by (although I admit, there needed to be a bit of fore-planning there, but other 4 year olds also fit the bill). Its this age that people start commenting about how their 4 year old is 'really really ready to start school'. Usually when they get to school they settle down but, it can be a sprint for the those gates on the day of their fifth birthday. I have mixed feelings as little Brother approaches school. He is ready in the 6-weetbix-a-day-testosterone-wrestling-poo-joke sense, but I will miss being around for his particular wisdom and thoughtful insights into the world. For example we were watching a disabled man get out of his car with two walking aids. 'Why do people use poles when there is no snow?' he mused. At play centre he has had a burst of creativity involving mixed media collage. He isn't one to go along with the planned activity - he's into layers and layers of paper and glue, sellotaping toothpaste boxes onto pieces of paper, and random collections of objects glued painted and glittered. Its a play centre philosophy to never ask a child ' is that a picture of a tree?' but rather to ask 'tell me about your picture'. It means the child has free range imagination wise and never feels that their picture has to conform to someone else's idea of 'what it should look like'. Its certainly not going to be like that at school, where peer pressure (to conform in lots of ways) will be a prevalent experience. But enough maudling, I am going to make the most of my time with him over the next 6 months and commit to a few wrestling matches myself. I am excited for his big step into the world of education, and for the school to be gaining such a amazing individual. They will all no-doubt love his bottom-inspired humour and his insightful commentary of the world.

Terrible Twos meets The devil wears Prada

I was trying to explain Little Miss Nearly 2's unreasonable behaviour to the boys, as she screamed and wailed at the injustice of not being able to have 6 teaspoons of sugar on her porridge. "She has just worked out that she has her own thoughts and opinions, and she doesn't have to do what anyone asks anymore!" God help us. With a screech like a banshee and more than her fair share of determination she is the poster girl for Independence. She is sweet as sugar and spice most of the time, but once she sets her mind to something (like getting the toy the boy was playing with), its time to call in the UN Peace keeping force (aka Mum). The words are just starting to explode like rapid fire out of her super-charged toddler brain, and although they get pretty mangled by the unpractised speaking apparatus, they are all there - 'Share!' she told her Grandmother, when she spotted her with the chocolate. She talks in full ernest-faced sentences but they are completely untranslatable. Single word commands are her favourite way of ruling the universe. 'No' gets used even for yes, 'Stop' is useful for the boys, 'Mine!' is ever-popular, and she is cunning enough to understand the benefits of a sweet smile and sticky 'Please'. She also can spot 'lowas' (flowers) and knows her fashion. 'Itty', she says as she points to her favourite bright sparkly top (pretty!). The other day I was looking in my drawer, and she came to help. 'Itty' she pointed to a red cardigan. 'I was looking for this', I said, pulling out a blue t-shirt and putting it on. She frowned, looking confused. 'Dadda?' she asked. 'No, its mamma's' I said. She looked back at her choice, pulled it out of the drawer and pushed it at me ' Itty. Itty. ITTY!' she yelled. I put it on. 'Itty.' she said with unmistakeable air of 'I told you so' and stomped off. I was stunned and secretly thrilled with the knowledge that someone in this house is going to notice what I wear! She loves to be helpful (very different from the boys at that age who spent alot of time taking things apart to see how many pieces they could be deconstructed into). She is the person I ask when I've lost something. She is especially good at finding shoes, not just her own, but visitors also. She gets the boys shoes in the morning and chases them around and throws them at their heads. 'UUUUs' she commands. I think the Terrible Two's is not a fair description of this age group - she is not terrible at all, she is fabulously gorgeous, but she is just dealing with the frustration of being unable to make everyone else understand that she is the centre and ruler of the Universe. It's a toddlers job, to rule the world with a screech. And the terrible part is that it is my job to teach her that the world doesn't work like that.

Not rubbing it in, but WE WON!

We are a very patriotic family. When it comes to rugby and singing the national anthem, that is. Big Brother has been learning it at school, and with all the All Black Games, there's been alot of God of Nations as favourite singing in the car. Even Little Miss not quite 2 is known to start belting out a reasonable tune with lots of haka-esque leg slapping and tongue pointing. The boys know most of the Te Reo maori and englsh versions - with a few cute mistaken words - my favourite line is 'guard pacific's triple star from the SHARKS of strife and war'. We've been flying All Blacks flags, and wearing facepaint and temporary tattoos. We certainly had a fabulous world cup, with many family visiting to stay and see the games at the Wellington Cake Tin. Big Brother was full of interesting playground statistics 'I am so freaking out!' he told us before NZ vs. France the first time, 'NZ has versed France FOUR times and France have won 3 times! I am so FREAKING out!" We've also had lots of discussions about sportsmanship - and even (finally) been able to discuss what it is to be a good winner. Hoorah!

Just when you thought I'd given up blogging..

I'm not sure how the last two months have slipped away without a blog up-date. Time flies when you're racing around like a mad mama. What have we been up to? Highlights have included a ski trip to Wanaka, a visit to the farm in Makahu, playing rugby every weekend, and just spending time with the kids, and with their lovely grandparents, with friends and family. Skiing was a big adventure and this year the boys took to it like ducks to water. They are both skiing now, going up the chair lift, and the pommer lift. They loved the gear, and the freedom, racing off down the mountains weaving in and out of the skiers and generally giving their mother a heart attack. Big Brother is officially a faster skier than I am now, racing past me, seeking out the little jumps on the side of the piste, and flicking through his turns. He also discovered another passion - ice climbing - if he wasn't on his ski's he was up some snow covered ice face, kicking his boots into the hill like a pro, then sliding down at top speed. He didn't enjoy his last lesson much, as the instructor kept telling him to 'slow down, slow down'. It was just like skiing with Mum. As we drove out of Wanaka he looked out the window of the car at the beautiful southern alps, and said "I'm going to climb all those mountains one day". Little Brother was a star, his goal was to do the pommer independently, then the chairlift. He achieved it no sweat, and it was such a great buzz to be able to ski all together. Little Miss did not make it up the mountain this year, but had a wonderful time with her grandparents, charming them with her smiles, and games, and going on picnic lunches to one stunning lake side beach or another. With a few long car journeys we have some mammoth games of I- spy. We have a few variations on the game now - I-spy colours, and I-spy imaginary. Big Brother must have been listening at school after he won a few games with his new found knowledge - the first clue was something beginning with A. The second clue was we get something from it. Once we gave in the answer was AIR - we get oxygen from it. The other memorably long game was the clue something that was the colour red. After much guessing it turned out to be a thin ring of red gas that surrounds the sun. We didnt get that one either.

Philosophers aka toddlers.

Part time toddlers, part time philosphers, my children.
I was trying to break it to them gently.
'Well, life isnt actually fair, ' I explained one day, 'sometimes things work out the way you want, and sometimes it doesn't'
Thats just the way it is...
'Yeah, ' agreed Big Brother, 'here's one I learnt at school -
Life is....' pregnant pause,'..Life.'
'THats very true, dear,' was about all I could muster in reply.

Another day -
'How old are you, Mummy?'I was asked from the back seat
'I'm thirty-six' I replied truthfully thinking, (how did i get to be so old???)
'You must be nearly dead!;' Little brother exclaimed.
I was lost for words, but luckily,-
'No, thats not that old! ' Big Brother and his lovely cousin agreed ' you might be dead when you are one hundred.'
'My great granny lived to 104!' our lovely wee cousin explained.
'Well, 'I said, taking a big breath and just diving on in there, 'no-one knows how long we might live, people can die at any age, but the important thing is to enjoy everyday with the people we love.'
Silence.
Longer silence.
(Although there is a lot to look at in the way of diggers and wind turbines along seaview road).
Then the clanger.
'Why do we live, ' asked our lovely cousin who is obviously wise beyond her years, 'if we are just going to die?'
Silence. (Me, this time)
'That is such a great question' I replied (throwing it right back at you!) 'what do you think?
'Ooh, ooh, ' clambered Big Brother to keep up the existential pondering, 'I've got a really good question....(pause)...'who made God?'
Silence. Me, again.
'That is a good question?' Who do you think?'
'Well', said the wise cousin, 'I think a bit broke off from the sun, and then turned into the earth and that's where everything came from.'
Luckily, we arrived at our destination.

Rugby Fever

We are so thrilled to be able to report that after 9 weeks or so, Little Brother has made it off the sidelines and onto the rugby field for his first game! He's been going to practice and games every week all this time, but hasn't quite made it over the scary line onto the paddock !
It has been a self imposed bench-time, (or in the case of practice he has spent most weeks up the nearest tree). He was keen as at the start of the season, and loves the kit. His new boots (smallest size possible), green and yellow Eastbourne socks (that reach righ to the lower limits of his buttocks for extra warmth on windy days) and jersey were a huge hit from day one, but watching the other kids play, he immediately voted himself off the team, telling us that he's not fast enough to get rips. Maybe when Im older, he thought. Another day he mused 'Perhaps we could go to the Library and get a book on how to play rugby'. 'Good idea,' I replied, 'but to get better at something you actually just have to practice and practice it.'
It's taken a few weeks to convince him. He's been practicing getting into his boots, climbing trees and enjoying the oranges at half time. He's also had a lot of practice drinking his aftermatch lemonade.
Last Thursday we had a breakthrough when I told them we were off for the Team photo. 'Do I have to play rugby?' he asked, 'Not today, just sit on the chair and look like a rugby player.' He was right into that idea - and lined up, marched on and sat in the front middle of the team pulling a range of serious 'rugby' faces as the camera flashed. 'That was jool' (cool) he told me.
And then, this saturday, he held Dad's hand as he toddled off to join the team for warm up. Then the inspired team manager suggested he should perhaps carry the ball onto the field for kick off. He agreed, and to his and our surprise he played the whole game.
'Rugby is jool fun' he said afterwards, as we stripped off his first-time-ever muddy uniform and scrubbed his skinny muddy knees.

Four year olds

Little Brother is not so little any more. We just celebrated his 4th birthday in style, with 15 children invited to Knights, Dragons and Princesses Party. The boys spent months planning the decorations, and by the time the actual party came he had changed his mind - He wanted to be a saber tooth tiger, not a knight, no princesses were allowed to come (well, perhaps, he said, only bad princesses!) and no-one was allowed to dress up. He relented when he opened his first present of the day which happened to be a knights outfit complete with enormous sword.
It was his first real party, last few years we've had just had cake with a couple of kids called in the last minute - the rent a crowd type birthday - so he was quite overwhelmed with the presents - 'More Presents!' He kept exclaiming ' But I've got enough presents! I don't need any more!'
He is a man with his own mind these days, and its a wonderful thing to behold as he develops the language to share his complex and unique thought processes.
His latest fascination is the troll from 3 Billy Goats Gruff, who has been given a new twist in Julia Donaldsons latest book - a very popular birthday present. The troll really wants to catch a goat and make a nice goat stew. This has caught his imagination and is now his No.1 Goal in Life. He wants a gun and bullets and has also been suggesting a trip to the library to get a book on how to make bow and arrows. I told him about his uncles farm complete with goats to shoot, and
guns to shoot them with, so he is planning his next farm holiday with major excitement..
'if the stew smells yucky, I won't eat it.' He says. 'But sometimes food smells yucky but tastes yummy, ' He continued.
This morning we a had a long conversation about pig hunting, as he was wearing his belt, which is to hold his knife and his gun in. He is definitely growing up.

Fine line between fantasy and reality

I am completely fascinated with the way that children, as they grow and learn, absorb information from everyone and everything around them. Input floods in and they make their own individual often sensational connections and conclusions, building up their own picture of how this world works. I have been teaching myself not to just tell them the answers to stuff, but ask them my favourite question - How do you think it works? (Thanks to Play Centre, where I learned this cool albeit simple idea). However sometimes it gets...tricky.

Little brother decided he was a bit scared of eating blackberries, after an unfortunate tummy bug hit him right after eating a lot of them. (I'll spare you the details of what the car looked like). I tried to explain that it wasn't the berries that had made him sick, it was a tummy bug, and his tummy got rid of the bug by getting rid of everything in it, and that's why he was sick. After a few moments thought, he said 'Yeah, I think it was a slug. It went down here (gesturing nose) and into my tummy and made me sick.'
'Well, No - 'I tried to explain-' I don't think it was a slug, but a tiny bug so small you can't see it, you need a microscope to see it. Those sorts of tiny bugs can make you sick.'
But he wasn't convinced. A few minutes later he said -
'Mum, I think the slug went into my brain and made a nest'.
Oh, dear.

Big Brother we have noticed oftens blurs the line between fantasy and reality. He composed a beautiful and moving prayer the other morning at school - all about his Dad who had been caught in the Tsunami in Japan, and was in hospital in Japan. I expect in a prayer session where's there's a little bit of one-up-man-ship involved, it was really impressive.
'Is he ok? his teacher asked.
'NO, he's in hospital, in Japan!' he re-iterated.
His teacher gave him the benefit of the doubt and the class all prayed. Hopefully those prayers were helpful for someone actually in that tragic situation. And she then checked with me.
That night we had a chat about the importance of telling the actual truth (particularly when dealing with prayers and the all-knowing entity), and the difference between a story and a fact.
Oh dear.

Social Secretary

As the boys get older there is less demand for such motherly chores as bottom wiping and food mulching and more demand for me in a social secretary kind of way. I seem to spend a crazy amount of time planning and executing their social lives.
Take or example the other weekend where Little Brother had been invited to THREE birthday parties. I'm not being ungrateful, they love parties and you know, it's nice he gets invited to such things....but it did involve a fair amount of running around. Actually No.1 Dad did the running around, as I was uncharacteristically busy with my own socialising and a first aid course. So, off they went. By the second party Little Brother must have been feeling a bit weary half way through as he was found asleep on the stairs! He was popped into bed, then woken for the cake. When I asked him later, if he'd got a bit tired, he denied all knowledge of the event. 'I thought about having a sleep, but then I decided to just keep playing'.
Then they have both become big fans of the play date. Can I go to someones house? Can he come and play at our house? Its never ending, and while it's nice to know they are sociable and have friends, it will be a relief when they have their own phones, cars and organise themselves. Although I guess that will bring with it a whole new set of worries - I'll be relegated from social secretary to Facebook stalker.

Morning Wake Up Call

Mum! He's got a piece of lego stuck up his nose!
was the call I woke up to the other morning. It certainly got my attention as I leapt out of bed and rounded the corner to find the yeller - Big Brother - looking very excited and the lego inhaler - little Brother - looking very sheepish. And sneezy.
Obviously the lego was irritating his inner linings cause it kept making him sneeze - but not hard enough to dislodge the block.
What ? How? Why? - these questions left my mouth unfinished and unanswered...who knows why a 3 year old does these things? Certainly not the 3 year old, and they cannot be expected to understand the adult logic of why we do not stick lego up our noses.
Big Brother kindly tried to explain ' He had it sitting in his hand and he sniffed it up! By accident!'
Little Brother was remarkably calm, despite the sneezing and the drama, and tried to get it out by poking a finger up the nostril in question a few times. Which helpfully pushed the lego piece even further in.
So, with Dad holding Little Brother (down), I found my tweezers and managed to encourage the small circular brown snotty lego brick out of the small pink quivering nostril. Little Brother was very brave even with his Brother jumping about behind me yelling ' This is so GROSS! ' and ' I can't believe it! I can't watch! THis is SO gross!'
After all the drama was over we had a small discussion about how we never put toys or things (that aren't for food or medical purposes, I nearly added, then just left it at 'things') into the various holes in our bodies. Lesson learnt, I hope.

The perils of overpopulation

7 Billion people on the planet and 7 caterpillars (and counting) on our swan plant. Like Earth, it is heaving with fat little fuzzy nibblers, gradually eating the one thing that sustains their existence.
One fat cat jumped ship last week, and humped its way over to a neighbouring hebe. He chewed on his new host for a day then settled down for a lengthy sleep/meditation on the miracles of self transformation. Its never to late to change our footprint, it seems.
Every day the children and I find ourselves out at the plant, checking out for the new caterpillars, looking at the destruction and marvelling at the chrysalis, hanging there glistening with dew drops. Its such a lovely conversation starter - on life and death and benefits of eating your greens.
Big Brother has been oogling the chrysalis, willing the butterfly to burst out. Little brother has been seeing how close he can get to wiping past the plant on his bike. I cannot bring myself to commit caterpillar genocide, to nobly save the strong to continue the species and all that. Little Miss doesn't have the same concerns, she likes to poke 'em. She doesn't mean to hurt them of course, but I hear her out there squealing with delight as she spots them with her pointy finger 'Doh! Doh!'.
Lets hope we get a couple of butterflies to flutter by us, and a few seed pods left at the end of the season of feasting to plant next year. Pity we can't just save a few bits of dirt and grow another planet too.

Mother's Little Habits

One of the joyful mothering habits that I am trying to break at the moment is eating up children's leftovers. It started with my first baby - I happen to really like stewed apple and banana mushed up with avocado.
Now there are 3 plates of scraps at every meal. What a waste! Luckily the boys eat quite well and if you've ever seen our daughter eat, you'd be saying, what scraps? She has a wonderful appetite, and combined with her independent nature she likes to work her way through using spoon, fork or fingers to ingest everything she can lay her hands on.
We are actually looking for something that she will refuse to eat - but we havent yet discovered it - she has happily consumed blue cheese, a mild curry, drunken prunes (marinated in red wine), and artichoke hearts. Lettuce she gives a suck on for a while then tends to discard it with a look of 'whats the point?'.
She keeps a very good eye on the boys meals to check they aren't getting any special tidbits, and usually is watching me like a hawk in the kitchen as I open the fridge. 'Ta?Ta?TA?'
If she eventually does become full, she lets fly - the crusts, the scraps, the porridge and spoon and the plates - all gets the overarm treatment.
Which is why the other day I found myself under the dining table picking up scraps - before I could stop myself I popped that wafer thin slice of cupcake into my mouth, followed by a piece of orange lego !
Yep, its definitely time to break that particular habit.

Happy new year, and happy easter

In case I don't get around to sending Easter greetings, I am adopting the most efficient method and sending out my best wishes now. Those on the Christmas card list may receive the card I wrote in December sometime around April so please backdate any information as pertaining to the 2010 year. As for those who kindly gave us a Congratulations on your new daughter present (Dec 2009), your Thank you note is included in your Christmas card that may or may not,as I said, arrive. In Easter.
So much for all the resolutions. The main resolution I made this year is To Blog. Weekly.
There was also a few other half hashed resolves - No purchasing without premeditation, Wear more dresses (and Peta Mathias says a woman over thirty should NOT leave the house without lipstick), Get all tax returns in on time, and one rash Christmas day decision to only ever drink Moet. Sadly for the champagne/lipstick industry, those have faded like the fizzy from an open bottle of Lindauer.
There is something about a New Year that makes you want to up your game. And read self improvement books. As a very-happy-to-be-at-home-mother, I am resolving to enjoy my blessed life and revel in the chaos and challenge.
(Something about reading self improvement books that make you suddenly start spouting conversation like 'I'm resolving to embrace the now')

Top books read this New Year
You Sexy Mother, by Jodie Hedley-Ward
Don't sweat the small stuff, and its all small stuff, by Richard Carlson
Crucial Confrontations, by Kerry Patterson, Joseph Grenny, Ron McMillan and Al Switzler
Rework - change the way you work forever, by Jason Fried and David Heinemeier Hansson
and next I'm working myself up for Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert T. Kiyosaki (The byline is very enticing : "what the rich teach their kids about money that the poor and middle class do not")

Meanwhile my babies are delightful and well, not really babies any more.