Oh hey, I'm back!

It's been over a year since I've blogged here, and I'm not entirely sure how to start again...

So I figure I'll start with superheroes.

Noo... Not those ones. I mean, these ones.

The Teen isn't in this photo because, well... She's a teen. Eighteen in fact. She still lives in our house,  and she's still as wonderful a creature as ever, but most of the time we exist in entirely different orbits...

So I'm back! My camera is broken so photo updates will be done with my crappy phone camera, which I'm really sad about, but I think I'll do a recap post soon. For posterity and all. And even if there's no one left around with the slightest vaguest foggiest bit of interest in reading my ramblings (and if that's the case it's likely just as well - I do ramble, after all) then at least by updating here, I can remind myself I'm still alive.

5 birthday candles...

In the days leading up to her 5th birthday, the Lily Bug grew increasingly anxious. As much as she was excited by the hype of her birthday (and the hope of her Trash Pack Street Sweeper wish coming true) she was terrified at what she would suddenly become, on the day of her birthday. Would she wake up and discover she'd grown into an adult all at once? Would she suddenly be too big to play with toys and run around a playground?

Despite our reassurances that she'd still be the same height on the 4th as she was on the 3rd, she had taken the notion of suddenly becoming a 'big' five year old to heart, and began waking from bad dreams in the night, refusing to sleep and even wetting her bed. It was only on the morning of her birthday when she woke to realise she was still a little girl, and made me measure her height just to be sure, that she finally relaxed - and got on with enjoying life through the eyes of a five year old. Which are, initially at least, very much like the eyes of a four year old.

 


Me on the other hand... I found it hard, really hard, to get excited about this particular birthday. These last five years have gone way way too fast, and no matter how much I may wish it, I just can't seem to grab Time in my hands and stretch it out, to make it last longer.

Guy Smiley - can have his cake and eat it. Though, whatever else that is hanging out of his mouth, I just can't tell you.

To be honest, the Teen and the Lily Bug don't spend a lot of time together. You know how it goes with 17 year olds... They have their own life to live etcetera etcetera... But it was nice to see them hanging out for this special event - and I made sure to snap photographic evidence. ;)

The Lily Bug's birthday cake. The birthday girl painted it herself. She had longed for a T-rex cake, and I'd used chocolate truffle mix as I usually find it easy to mold into shapes. This year, the Bug and I shaped the cake together, and she painted it. Less a T-Rex, more a Dragon, but the process of its creation became the theme of our day and as well as being incredibly fun, it was a nice way for the Bug to relax and overcome her birthday anxiety. Henceforth, a new birthday ritual for our family.

Burn! Burn my pretties!!

Note: This post was from the Draft pile - I'm clearing out the backlog. Don't hate on my bad MS Paint doodlings. Happy Christmas and Merry New Year ya'll!

THE LILY BUG: I wish I was the sun so I could shine brightly.
ME: Aww you're so cute!
THE LILY BUG: Then I'd turn myself up really high... So everyone can burn. *cackles manically*

She said that. I kid you not. My sweet lovely loving (most of the time ;)) little Bug uttered those words.

In her defence, I think she had just mucked up her phrasing a little. It was a cold morning on the way to kindy, and I'm sure she was only thinking about how she'd like to bring toasty warmth into the lives of those who, like us, have a thinly insulated home and a car heating system that kicks in five minutes after you reach your destination.

And I'm sure the way she tittered gleefully at the end of that statement was due purely to the amusement of watching my jaw swing open and hit the floor of the car. I admit, I too would find that comical. In a Loony Toons kind of way.

The Lily Bug is going to make a fantastic Global President of the Entire Planet some day. I think the evidence speaks for itself.

Mad love for my Canon 1100D

After posting a long bit of waffle about how I needed to choose between two cameras Canon had offered for half price to staff at the Lad's work, I made the decision, waited with gleeful impatience for the camera to arrive, and have been snapping away with it on a near-daily basis ever since. In the end, the decision was glaringly obvious. It had to be the Canon 1100D. 

I read as many reviews as I could find on both cameras, and although the SX500IS's superzoom was appealing for its super-zoomability and awesome macro-ness, the 1100D won out in the end - despite the fact I'm likely never going to be able to afford a decent superzoom or macro lense for it. Ever. *sigh*

I've had a lot of hit and misses while playing about with the settings...

Hmm. That was a miss. Hey I know, let's pretend I was being arty!

 And this one, I think, was a better hit:

Remember how the Lily Bug cut her own hair..? Heh. Heh.

A macro lense is definitely on the wishlist if I want to take nice detailed shots of flowers and bugs and the insides of the Lad's nostrils while he's sleeping and stuff.

Probably would've napped a better picture if it wasn't a windy day and the camera was on a tripod!

Finding that spider on the flower was exciting for the kids, and I loved watching them reap so much happiness out of something as simple as a small insect.

Hmm. We probably should get out of the house more.

I was super super excited to find that when using the AF Live mode I can toggle around the LCD screen to choose exactly where I want the focus point to be rather than relying on the 9 auto-focus points and moving the camera to suit. However, this mode is only works with the LCD screen and only useful on stationary objects. Anything that blinks or farts is gonna throw out the focus and in live view, the camera takes the life cycle of a flea to refocus again.

Live Mode example 1: Right apple/lip of bowl as focus point.

Live Mode example 2: Jar in the background as focus point.

My fav snaps so far:

At the end of a lovely long afternoon at Bethells Beach, the boy was knackered. Then the we had to wait for the State Roadside Rescue to rescue our flat battery dilemma (though turned out the steering lock was just on *shamefaced*)

Bethells Beach - I pinned the Lily Bug down long enough for a photo.

Mt Victoria, Devonport. The Teen and the Lily Bug having a rare moment of fun together.

At Nan's house.

Bethells Beach where sand makes the perfect prop for some monster truck rampaging

Time Keeps On Slipping...

Dear Lily Bug,

Last night, just before you fell asleep, you began to cry. I reached out to hold your hand, and asked what was wrong. You told me you didn't want to turn five. You didn't want to stop having Unicornie and Bolt to cuddle at night. I told you that turning five didn't mean giving up your bedtime buddies, and you stopped crying - but only long enough to take a breath and start afresh. 

"What's up this time?" I asked.

"I'm afraid to be a big girl! I'm growing up too fast mum! I don't want to start school. I don't want to stop going to kindy. I love my kindy!" And again you erupted into sobs.

My heart broke for you, because I understood your fears - it's hard facing the unknown, and most of all it's hard that you have to step out of - and leave behind - your comfort zone in order to do so. I felt so sad that you carry these fears when you're still so very young. How difficult it must be to realise when you're only four and a half years old, that these are stages you'll be leaving behind as you grow!

I wanted to hug away your fears but I couldn't. I was pinned down by your little brother, who was clinging on to me in his own nearly-but-not-quite-asleep haze with a limpet-like ferocity. To leave his side at that moment would mean to set him into a melt down, and that wouldn't provide any consolation to anyone...

So I continued to reach across the gap between Guy Smiley's bed and yours, and hold your hand, and talk you through it. Reminding you that it's still a long time before you're five and so you have lots of time left to enjoy kindy (and it broke my heart to say that too, because it's not long at all, and I too would rather that things stay as they are now, than let you go!) and school will be exciting and fun... That too was a little white lie. I know you're going to expect school to be as awesome as the likes of kindy and Playcenter, and what a culture shock it's going to be when you discover you can't just play all day! But hopefully you'll enjoy the likes of math as much as you enjoy painting dinosaurs and rainbows ...

And even though positioning you in one spot long enough to practice writing your own name requires a titanium backbone and a wee bit of bribery at times, I'm sure the teacher's sharp voice will be more effective than mine... It's not that I don't have a sharp voice (which can probably be heard from four houses down when I used it) it's just fairly ineffectual most of the time. And that trick of using a serious but quiet voice doesn't work either, because neither of you can ever hear me over your own yowling.

Anyway, I digress.

The truth is, I don't want to let you go to school either. I don't. I try so hard not to think of next year because I want you and Guy Smiley to stay exactly at the stage you're at now. Not forever. Of course I want to see you grow into the beautiful young adults I know you'll become. But a dominant part of me can't help but wish these next six months could last for at least another year and a half. Unfortunately that's not going to happen. So I can only hope summer starts early this year, and we can make the most of your final months of being a pre-schooler, before February 4th shifts the tectonic plates of our comfort zones into a completely new formation.

Love always,

Mum

PS: At least my one consolation is that once you start school, we'll you'll be one step closer to total world domination. Whoo hoo!

I seem to have this "thing" about zombies.

New car! We were hoping to get something that could drive over lava and plough through a zombie mob without being rolled, but we've settled for a nice practical 8-seater soccer-mum mobile... :P

Is this a people-mover? Hell yes! This will move people right out of our path, left right and center. Especially with the addition of bull bars ;)  It's big, but not so big as to topple over in a strong wind, and the undead aren't smart enough to roll it, right? And if we get the windscreen cover with our insurance, we'll be protected for when the Infected crack it with those severed limbs they like to swing about.

I'm cautiously satisfied that this is all we need to survive a Zombie Apocalypse.

Crossing a river of lava - not so confident.  According to Dante's Peak, we'd need a heavy duty pick up truck to pull that one off...

But, when you think of which disaster scenario is more likely in Auckland - Volcanic Erruption or Zombie Outbreak - I think we'll do just fine with the choice we've made.

And if repayments become a struggle and we're forced to downgrade from three-bedroom rental to cardboard box, there's quite a bit of space with the back seats folded down into the floor. Plenty of room to freedom camp for the rest of our lives - yee-ha!

Letting Go

re·dun·dant/riˈdəndənt/Adjective

1. No longer needed or useful; superfluous.

2. (of words or data) Able to be omitted without loss of meaning or function.

This week has been a difficult one to blog about, to find words for. No particular reason, nothing to tilt the world on its axis and leave me speechless.  No reason to get my knickers in a twist (as my mother would - and often does -say).

Well, there was something. I suppose.

The Lily-Bug started Kindy.

I know, I know. So what? Right?

It's just that... I can count on one finger the number of times I've let her in the care of someone (other than immediate family) since the day she was born. And for the first two thirds of her three and a half years, she was the clingiest little thing in all the world - I never thought I'd send her off to kindy at all. I never thought she'd let me go.

But she did. Quite happily. Let me go.

 

Look at her charging off ahead of me; the little girl who is usually too scared of the road to help me check the mailbox.

She has been sooo excited about the prospect of kindy for weeks now. And I don't blame her one bit. My attempts to stave off cabin fever through the winter are failing. There are only so many times we can haul the spare mattress into the lounge and use it as a hut/crash pad/slide before the novelty of collecting bruises like they're stamps and sustaining moderate brain damage after repeat run ins with Guy Smiley's big boulder head begin to wear off. Painting, drawing, squishing play dough, rainy trips to the park, watching Little Einsteins over and over, tickle fights, straining mum's neck while using her as a human jungle gym.. It all gets a bit mundane.

No no don't stay Mummy! You drop me off here and pick me up later! I'm alright!

I fully expected her to enjoy Kindy. I just didn't expect her to declare "I don't wanna go home mummy!" when it was time for us to leave that first day. And I tell you (whoever you are - if anyone is there at all), that statement was like a wee knife to my gut.

A still small voice inside my head tried to counsel that it was nothing personal, and that the Lily Bug's eagerness to drag from home that spare mattress, stuff it in the bright yellow tunnel of Kindy's playground and bunk down for the night, was entirely expected given that she was crazy excited and fully willing to continue playing for at least another 18 hours.

The voice of reason is too damn quiet for me to hear at the best of times.

I bet myself up all night long, and all throughout the next day, questioning my entire parenting ability. Or lack of ability? Why didn't she want to come home? Is it because I lost my cool and yelled on the weekend when she was having that meltdown about the shower plughole? Am I a terrible mother because I use the computer while the kids are watching their morning kids programs? Am I failing as a parent because I let them watch tv at all? No, it's because I yelled on the weekend, isn't it? And, truth be told I think I yelled on Monday too... And probably the week before...

During Wednesday's Kindy session, I left her for the last hour, and throughout this time I fretted that she'd yell "go away mum! I wanna stay here!" upon my return. I knew if this scenario came true, I'd cry. In front of the teachers, in front of the parents picking up their kids, in front of my own children... I'd bawl my goddamned eyes out.  It was a scenario that played over and over in my head so clearly, the fear of it all but squeezed the air from my lungs.

Then it came to crunch time. 2.50pm. I walked through the Kindy doors with no small amount of trepidation, and found my little Lily-Bug sitting anxiously on a teacher's knee, waiting for mummy. She ran to me, threw her arms around me in a massive bear hug, all but squeezing the air from my lungs - and this time I welcomed the feeling.

“Some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is letting go.” — Herman Hesse