RIP Ba-Ba

Yesterday afternoon she was leaping around the lawn, nibbling the grass, shredding my best pea crop in years, and stripping the silver beet of all greenery.
Last night, she was lying down, lethargic and this morning she is as stiff as a board.
So ends the short fluffy sweet life of Barbara-Ann Lamington Pearl (aka Ba-ba).
I blubbered.
Sheep farming is totally emotionally draining, especially when your entire flock is wiped out in one night. My brother the real sheep farmer reminded me of the saying - Where there is livestock, there's dead stock.
Maybe she found a poisonous nibbly bit she couldn't resist, maybe she had a clostridium disease due to lack of mum's milk as an orphaned lamb (Brother Farmer's theory), OR maybe the neighbour she has been waking up every morning (at 530am by bleating incessantly until she is fed) snuck through the fence and fed her snail bait (thats my current theory, I'm in the angry phase of grieving)
I continued to blubber.
Little Miss said - "Are you crying again?"
Big Brother said - "But there is some good news. We are still alive! We don't have the disease!"
Little Brother said - "Maybe we could get a new pet."
Dad dug a hole for her and we bent her stiff legs to fit. She looked peaceful.
Little Miss - "Why ba-ba sleeping in that hole! Ba-ba getting dirty"
Dad explained dead again, and the process of rigor mortis.
I suggested they pick a flower to throw into her grave.
Big Brother - "I picked a white one because that will remind me of Ba-ba."
Little Miss threw in her purple flower.
Little Brother threw in a grapefruit.
Little Brother - "Perhaps we can get a new pet. How about a seagull?"
Little Miss - "We get a new Ba-Ba? One day?"
Big Brother looked around the lawn - "At least we still have her poo's to remind us of her"
Little Brother - "Maybe if we watch some TV it might get away our sadness".

Inside a while later, they come to me with a card and a soft toy lamb. Big Brother has written me a card, and they have both drawn a picture of Ba-ba on it. The message reads:
'Dear Mum I am sorry to say Baba did but redmder your sill alive. Loev (with an arrow pointing to swap the letters around) from W, F, A and D xoxo

Visiting our old life

There are big events in life that spontaneously cause a fork in the road, such a rapid change in circumstances, your direction changes and you head down a side track you couldn't imagine you'd ever go. At time's it feels like that road you left behind carried on, without you, and you can imagine yourself living the other journey.
I've been a bit hesitant, unsure about bringing those two separate journeys together for us, but after nearly four years, we finally travelled back to where we used to live, touched base with our old life, well all the really good bits, anyway - our friends, the beautiful place we used to live (and none of the not-so-good bits). We went to a magical beach wedding, and the children danced the night away, pulling out all their favourite moves - shuffling, back spins on the floor and gangam style.

Car trips are such great opportunities for chatting, and listening to hours of Roald Dahl stories on CD, and of course, I-spy. Its a serious game in our car, with many quirks - we play i-spy colours, visible or invisible, real or imaginary. Some games take miles and miles, and there are many arguments.
Nine hours in the car each way gave us lots of time to tell stories about my memories of them as babies, and we drove by our old home where Little Brother was born. "So that's where I came out like a rocket!" he said when he saw the house. "I remember now!"

The car is also great for random thinking time.
Little Miss piped up at one stage "Mummy, I have a brown bottom, and  you have a hairy bottom."
"Umm, ok" I was not sure where this one was going.
She continued "But Daddy, ....Daddy has a hairy darse"

Staying with friends is a good way to practise our manners. My children are well behaved only as a result of constant brainwashing - 'Excuse me from the table, Thankyou for the yummy dinner, 'parroted Little Brother one night, adding, "and, we do not wash our pits in the pool of eternal life"

I a zombie princess

This has been the first year we have celebrated Halloween. I've always been a bit Barhumbug about it all, and I've managed to distract Big Brother the last few years by putting him in front of the TV, closing the curtains and pretending not to be home. However it was not to be missed this year. We invited a couple of boys from school to join us, and I bought some face paints, and a skull jar full of edible body parts (hearts, fingers, teeth and eyeballs). They painted themselves up (we are all about the free- styling body art). Big Brother painted a silver hand with a spider web on it. Little brother did a green mask, one green foot and some random gold spots. Little Miss put on her princess outfit and painted a few 'pots' on her face. We put a lead and a skull and cross bones scarf on Baa-Baa (our pet lamb). And, not looking particularly scary - we set off.

I had no idea what a big thing it was! There were lots of families and groups of kids toting bulging sweety treaty bags, intricate costumes and houses with glowing skeletons, graveyards, and cobwebs everywhere. The bay we live in is a very popular trick or treating destination, and I admit that I have changed my mind about halloween, actually, helped by a glass of wine on the way, we had a lovely family night out. They ate way too much confectionery, stayed up way too late, and had just a perfect amount of fun. (Once home i confiscated all the haul and will use them to bribe them all for weeks! Hoorah, Mum always has the last laugh!)

Little Miss has been re-enacting it all week - 'I a zombie princess' she says walking slowly around the garden. I find it almost preferable to her play acting cinderella.