After seven months of moving, visiting, packing and unpacking cars, house sitting and camping, we are finally moving into our new (rented) home this weekend. And as Big Brother put it, we are going to stay there for a long long time.
Its going to be lovely - wee cottage by the sea with a big garden. Who would have imagined 12 months ago things could work out so perfectly. Hubbie is happily installed in permanent job (hooray), boys happily settled into play centre, and me, well, I am happily eating everything I can and getting fatter by the day. Just hitting 30 weeks pregnant there is no denying the inevitable now - I absolutely have to sit down to put on my socks.
There's a precious calm after the storm. Do come and visit us sometime for a quiet cuppa sitting on an unpacked box.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Cutting the umbilical cord
Back in wellington now, for a superb few weeks of sunny days and still calm harbour (see, Ive transformed into one of those wellingtonians who rave about the weather!) Time is flying as I approach 6 months pregnancy, and I am unable to avoid the fact anymore.....soon we will have a baby!
But its the four year olds umbilical cord I am having trouble cutting this week. He is happily doing his fourth session for 4 year olds at our play centre, and has exhibited absolutely no signs of giving a stuff that mum leaves him there by himself! He has been confident and outgoing and is really coming into his own.
But then I got an email outlining a planned trip to the zoo for the 4 year olds. Now of course we could go, however I've committed to a playcentre course that day (the lengths I'll go to to pretened to have friends) and now i have to cut the umbilical cord and let my four year old baby actually go somewhere with someone else!
Ive only had a few nightmares and sleepless hours. I thought perhaps I could get Dad to pop along the road to the zoo from work and check up on things, by peering unsuspiciously through the bushes. Dad thought that might be going a bit far and it was probably best for the child to just let him go and get on with it. Typical common sense fathering response to a illogical pregnant mothers fear, but it was not appreciated.
Its not that I don't trust the fabulous crew of Mums he will be going with, because I absolutely do. It is more that I dont trust Big Brother to not run off, and climb over a fence into the tigers cage.
In preparation I've been positively reinforcing a few of the things that big 4 years olds do, like 'staying together', 'turning on your ears', and 'listening to the adults'. I am hoping that it is just me he ignores. It is possible that he runs off on me cause he's so sick of hanging out with me that he's desperate for someone else's company!
Well, I've confessed my paranoia to the trip leader (she has been very understanding), and has my mobile number to give me updates of how fabulously he is going. So tomorrow is the big day. Wish me luck. I am sure he'll have a great morning and I can spend the time thinking about how quickly they become independent, and planning my homeschooling routine.
But its the four year olds umbilical cord I am having trouble cutting this week. He is happily doing his fourth session for 4 year olds at our play centre, and has exhibited absolutely no signs of giving a stuff that mum leaves him there by himself! He has been confident and outgoing and is really coming into his own.
But then I got an email outlining a planned trip to the zoo for the 4 year olds. Now of course we could go, however I've committed to a playcentre course that day (the lengths I'll go to to pretened to have friends) and now i have to cut the umbilical cord and let my four year old baby actually go somewhere with someone else!
Ive only had a few nightmares and sleepless hours. I thought perhaps I could get Dad to pop along the road to the zoo from work and check up on things, by peering unsuspiciously through the bushes. Dad thought that might be going a bit far and it was probably best for the child to just let him go and get on with it. Typical common sense fathering response to a illogical pregnant mothers fear, but it was not appreciated.
Its not that I don't trust the fabulous crew of Mums he will be going with, because I absolutely do. It is more that I dont trust Big Brother to not run off, and climb over a fence into the tigers cage.
In preparation I've been positively reinforcing a few of the things that big 4 years olds do, like 'staying together', 'turning on your ears', and 'listening to the adults'. I am hoping that it is just me he ignores. It is possible that he runs off on me cause he's so sick of hanging out with me that he's desperate for someone else's company!
Well, I've confessed my paranoia to the trip leader (she has been very understanding), and has my mobile number to give me updates of how fabulously he is going. So tomorrow is the big day. Wish me luck. I am sure he'll have a great morning and I can spend the time thinking about how quickly they become independent, and planning my homeschooling routine.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Kea is the worthy King of the Mountains
If I could be any parrot in the world I would be a Kea.
I shun other average jungle parrots desperate for attention with their flashy plethora of multi coloured madness, crazy stripes of red, blue, green, pink, yellow in every direction screaming look at me!
No, the parrot that evolved to live in the snow line of New Zealands mountain landscape -it's beautiful and simple and perfectly adapted.
Its dark green feathers are interweaved with lighter green and darker green and more shades of green than a paint catalogue, expertly woven and perfectly blended, as if by a master painter. These birds are the Audis of the sky, the Kate Winslets of the icy walk of fame. Compared to these beauties a tropical parakeet is Paris Hilton driving in a psychadelic pink stretched Hummer.
Like the Kea, I would keep my wing-bling, my beautiful flash of orange like a burst of fire, concealed - only to be seen by those beneath me, or really watching me. Its like a flash of gold in the river, sparking the excitement of the gold rush for the desperate man panning on the banks.
The Kea here scavenging at the mountain cafe are total pests. They hang around stealing the food, pooing on the tables, walking with sharp claws on the latest model off road BMW's. But I admire them. They own the mountain. We only rent a small part day by day and get to feel, for a short time, free as the birds soaring high above this craggy range, lungs bursting with icy air, floating, free.
I shun other average jungle parrots desperate for attention with their flashy plethora of multi coloured madness, crazy stripes of red, blue, green, pink, yellow in every direction screaming look at me!
No, the parrot that evolved to live in the snow line of New Zealands mountain landscape -it's beautiful and simple and perfectly adapted.
Its dark green feathers are interweaved with lighter green and darker green and more shades of green than a paint catalogue, expertly woven and perfectly blended, as if by a master painter. These birds are the Audis of the sky, the Kate Winslets of the icy walk of fame. Compared to these beauties a tropical parakeet is Paris Hilton driving in a psychadelic pink stretched Hummer.
Like the Kea, I would keep my wing-bling, my beautiful flash of orange like a burst of fire, concealed - only to be seen by those beneath me, or really watching me. Its like a flash of gold in the river, sparking the excitement of the gold rush for the desperate man panning on the banks.
The Kea here scavenging at the mountain cafe are total pests. They hang around stealing the food, pooing on the tables, walking with sharp claws on the latest model off road BMW's. But I admire them. They own the mountain. We only rent a small part day by day and get to feel, for a short time, free as the birds soaring high above this craggy range, lungs bursting with icy air, floating, free.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Perfect day for the ski brothers
It's official, we all have the bug. Not the botty/tummy type bug but instead one that I am sure is going to give us countless days of pleasure and wholesome fresh air family fun for many years to come. I'm talking about the 'strap some wood to your feet and hurtle down a snowy mountain' bug.
We ventured en masse up the hill yesterday laden with 4 sets of gloves, goggles, hats, socks, boots, and one grandmother. A logistical nightmare, definitely, but absolutely worth it just for cute factor - Little Brother kitted out in his tiny tiny boots and skis only slightly longer than my feet.
Off we trekked to the learners platter, with a magic carpet and pommer tow. After one trip on the magic carpet and a slide down the slope holding Mums hand Big Brother pointed up to the 6 person chair lift that goes up the whole side of the mountain and declared 'I want to go up there now'. Gotta love that about kids - they don't let ability get in the way of their ambitions.
We persuaded him to have a few turns on the pommer with Dad - and he and Little brother (at the tender age of 27 months, remember!) both went up - and came down again - between Dads legs. They loved it, with basically no skill and no desire to master any, they were just there for the ride - totally trusting, I mean what could possibly go wrong? (So sad that they may learn one day how unforgiving gravity can be, and even end up like that quivering mess of worry at the bottom of the slope called Mum).
We only used bribery (international currency known as the lollipop) once to get them back up the slope, and once supercharged with colouring and sugar, three generations of Gentry's headed up the main chair. And came belting back down a few short minutes later. Big Brother is now hooked on skiing, and we'll be saving up for a few lessons next year, so someone else can gently teach him how to actually ski. Little Brother was a star, too, stomping away through the snow, sliding on his skis and leaning forward, without a grizzle all day. It felt incongruous to take his ski's off and lift him up onto the baby changing table to wipe his bottom. He fell asleep before we got back to the car.
Here's to great family holidays to come. And to breeding adrenalin junkies. And to contracting bugs like these.
We ventured en masse up the hill yesterday laden with 4 sets of gloves, goggles, hats, socks, boots, and one grandmother. A logistical nightmare, definitely, but absolutely worth it just for cute factor - Little Brother kitted out in his tiny tiny boots and skis only slightly longer than my feet.
Off we trekked to the learners platter, with a magic carpet and pommer tow. After one trip on the magic carpet and a slide down the slope holding Mums hand Big Brother pointed up to the 6 person chair lift that goes up the whole side of the mountain and declared 'I want to go up there now'. Gotta love that about kids - they don't let ability get in the way of their ambitions.
We persuaded him to have a few turns on the pommer with Dad - and he and Little brother (at the tender age of 27 months, remember!) both went up - and came down again - between Dads legs. They loved it, with basically no skill and no desire to master any, they were just there for the ride - totally trusting, I mean what could possibly go wrong? (So sad that they may learn one day how unforgiving gravity can be, and even end up like that quivering mess of worry at the bottom of the slope called Mum).
We only used bribery (international currency known as the lollipop) once to get them back up the slope, and once supercharged with colouring and sugar, three generations of Gentry's headed up the main chair. And came belting back down a few short minutes later. Big Brother is now hooked on skiing, and we'll be saving up for a few lessons next year, so someone else can gently teach him how to actually ski. Little Brother was a star, too, stomping away through the snow, sliding on his skis and leaning forward, without a grizzle all day. It felt incongruous to take his ski's off and lift him up onto the baby changing table to wipe his bottom. He fell asleep before we got back to the car.
Here's to great family holidays to come. And to breeding adrenalin junkies. And to contracting bugs like these.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
We're all going on a winter holiday...
Seems strangely appropriate for us crazy folks, that when the weather gets cold, we pack up and head...somewhere much colder. We get up early every day to drive up a winding treacherous snowy road, pay an exorbitant fee to strap boards to our feet and throw ourselves off a mountainside.
Theres absolutely nothing as great as a holiday in the snow. I am very fortunate to have married into a family who love to ski and so have been over the last few years have been discovering the delights of an annual ski holiday in wanaka.
Not that Ive had anytime up the mountain yet - mothering must be done where ever we are, (although am importing grandmothers today to provide childcare arrangements!) but I just love being here, the air is crisp and the scenery stunning, life is good.
Dad took Big Brother up the mountain on our first day, and he had his second time on skiis (not so keen but plenty of time to work on that). It might have been due to the fact I hadn't tried on his ski suit before we left home, and wouldn't you know he's grown about 4 inches since last year. The pants came to just below his knees and the crutch was somewhere up near his belly button. He must have felt cold and partially dissected even before we put him on skis and pushed him down the learners slope. To add insult to injury our friend started calling him Bruno. (He's the proud recipient of a new birthday ski suit you'll be pleased to know. Stand by for his 21st to see the pictures!)
I'm in two minds about how much strapping to a board I'll get in this year. The first mind is in dilemna regarding rather fresh memories of changing nappies for 6 weeks while in plaster with broken wrist. (Wasnt even very spectacular fall, just wimped out on icy track trying to show off to my husband.) The other mind is on my precious cargo. Although the dragon would love a bit of rough and tumble and fresh mountain air. I know this one will be as much of a dare devil as the other two - theres no chance of escaping those genes.
So we'll see how the days pan out - hopefully its snowing like a demon up there today, and we can have a family day up the hill on Treble Cone ski field, at least to sledge on the learners slope, build snowmen and wallow in powder, while looking at THE most beautiful view in the world. I don't think I'll be able to resist a gentle peruse down the Beginners slope, complete with body amour and wrist guards.
Theres absolutely nothing as great as a holiday in the snow. I am very fortunate to have married into a family who love to ski and so have been over the last few years have been discovering the delights of an annual ski holiday in wanaka.
Not that Ive had anytime up the mountain yet - mothering must be done where ever we are, (although am importing grandmothers today to provide childcare arrangements!) but I just love being here, the air is crisp and the scenery stunning, life is good.
Dad took Big Brother up the mountain on our first day, and he had his second time on skiis (not so keen but plenty of time to work on that). It might have been due to the fact I hadn't tried on his ski suit before we left home, and wouldn't you know he's grown about 4 inches since last year. The pants came to just below his knees and the crutch was somewhere up near his belly button. He must have felt cold and partially dissected even before we put him on skis and pushed him down the learners slope. To add insult to injury our friend started calling him Bruno. (He's the proud recipient of a new birthday ski suit you'll be pleased to know. Stand by for his 21st to see the pictures!)
I'm in two minds about how much strapping to a board I'll get in this year. The first mind is in dilemna regarding rather fresh memories of changing nappies for 6 weeks while in plaster with broken wrist. (Wasnt even very spectacular fall, just wimped out on icy track trying to show off to my husband.) The other mind is on my precious cargo. Although the dragon would love a bit of rough and tumble and fresh mountain air. I know this one will be as much of a dare devil as the other two - theres no chance of escaping those genes.
So we'll see how the days pan out - hopefully its snowing like a demon up there today, and we can have a family day up the hill on Treble Cone ski field, at least to sledge on the learners slope, build snowmen and wallow in powder, while looking at THE most beautiful view in the world. I don't think I'll be able to resist a gentle peruse down the Beginners slope, complete with body amour and wrist guards.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Girl or boy? - No, Dragon
Living in this new house seems to be having a strange effect on us.
I am obsessed with cooking. Well, actually with eating. You would be too if you had a functional kitchen complete with Friand trays (no intention of using them) and a pasta maker (on the list to-do). The woman that owns this kitchen is my hero. I am driven out of bed these days by hunger and it's been a case of banana muffins for breakfast, fresh bread for morning tea, soup for lunch, and slow cooker creation for dinner. With occasional scones in between.
Its no surprise then baby is growing well and hit 20 week mark with all limbs flying. It is a mover and shaker and would hardly lie still for the scan yesterday. I took the boys to see the 'movie of the baby' and they were fascinated. Big Brother proclaimed ' Look - its a dragon'. When he saw the red and yellow colours of blood pumping he added 'Its breathing fire!' The thought of having a dragon for a sibling has definitely raised his interest in the whole affair.
Little Brother still calls it Poop-poop. I think the sonographer is likely to remember us in a few months time when she hears in the news about a woman who gave birth to a dragon named Poop-poop.
Rather strangely also is the undeniable fact Big Brother has grown a tail. Its rather grey and mouse-like but he assures me it actually is a tiger's tail. He wears it day and night, and out around town. He gets a few strange looks from boring adults who have forgotten how liberating it is to have an imagination, but the kids think its cool. 'Look, he's got a tail' one boy called out. BB turned around and roared his best tiger roar. Respect.
Perhaps as the mother of a tiger I shouldn't be surprised when at the moment of birth the midwife exclaims ' well done - its a, its a ....dragon'.
Friday, July 10, 2009
High Tea at Kirks
We hit Cuba street armed with 2 preschoolers, 2 lunchboxes and a keen eye for a bargain. Unfortunately some of the second hand boutiques were more boutiques than secondhand, more designer than bargain (Soup on Blair St is NOT a bargain hunters paradise unless $300 dollars for a jacket is a bargain in your currency. They also made disparaging remarks about farmers and their sense of style. We were Affronted.)
We checked out Hunters and Collectors (possible to get a buggy into, which fulfilled one of our rating criteria) - beautiful but out of our $20 range, as well as Ziggurat, quirky/cool. Rated best find of the day though was the Recycled Boutique (209-211 Cuba St) with great range and pricing - LH got a pair of pants for $4.50! Only downer was not being able get the buggy into the place, although I could have asked them to open the side door. I was stuck outside pressing my nose against the window pane, salivating.
I tried to take the boys into Alistairs Music Shop next door to look at Ukeleles, but we were decidedly shamed out of there when Big Brother gently strummed a double base and the owners went into chorus of (not very appreciative) protest at him but ignored me. Feeling like a bad mother/leper we slunk out heads down. The thing that bugged me most was noone said nicely - Hi, we would appreciate it if you didnt let the children touch the instruments but can we help you with anything?
No Ukeleles for us, no sales for them now or probably in the future - how about having the childrens instruments by the door rather than behind the priceless ones. (Am I being Knarky? perhaps, but if you're going to sell childrens items at least don't treat them all like destructive monsters. BB played that instrument so beautifully I might have bought him one).
Besides that, it was a great day.
To top it of the next afternoon I treated the girls to a surprise outing - High Tea at Kirkcaldie and Stains. We tucked into the three tiered cake stand loaded with goodies wearing our $20 outfits feeling like a million dollars.
We checked out Hunters and Collectors (possible to get a buggy into, which fulfilled one of our rating criteria) - beautiful but out of our $20 range, as well as Ziggurat, quirky/cool. Rated best find of the day though was the Recycled Boutique (209-211 Cuba St) with great range and pricing - LH got a pair of pants for $4.50! Only downer was not being able get the buggy into the place, although I could have asked them to open the side door. I was stuck outside pressing my nose against the window pane, salivating.
I tried to take the boys into Alistairs Music Shop next door to look at Ukeleles, but we were decidedly shamed out of there when Big Brother gently strummed a double base and the owners went into chorus of (not very appreciative) protest at him but ignored me. Feeling like a bad mother/leper we slunk out heads down. The thing that bugged me most was noone said nicely - Hi, we would appreciate it if you didnt let the children touch the instruments but can we help you with anything?
No Ukeleles for us, no sales for them now or probably in the future - how about having the childrens instruments by the door rather than behind the priceless ones. (Am I being Knarky? perhaps, but if you're going to sell childrens items at least don't treat them all like destructive monsters. BB played that instrument so beautifully I might have bought him one).
Besides that, it was a great day.
To top it of the next afternoon I treated the girls to a surprise outing - High Tea at Kirkcaldie and Stains. We tucked into the three tiered cake stand loaded with goodies wearing our $20 outfits feeling like a million dollars.
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