Bad Mother

This morning as I dropped my sweet 9 year old daughter at school, I got a lecture about healthy eating habits for children.

Hahahhhaaa.

Today Miss 9's class is making smoothies, with yogurt, berries and milk, and of course all ingredients had to be brought from home. As I helped my child with bags etc another Mum, a very efficient, focused and authorative Mum bailed me up near the classroom. She was there to help the class make smoothies, a noble act because , frankly, I'd rather staple my head to the carpet. 

She was watching all the children as they milled around. Frowned at any child who didn't have fresh fruit to put on their snack table, and down right outraged by any poor sod who didn't even have a box of sultanas.

One little boy's lunchbox fell open as he hung his bag up and basically the entire cookie aisle of Safeways tumbled out. That kid had everything going on, from Chocolate Oreos to Tiny Teddies. His sandwich, snuggled in the corner of the box (fighting for room) was a squished up Jam & White Bread mess.

After the kids had disappeared to play, she came to me and rolled her eyes.

"Can you believe Johnny's lunchbox?? I mean... OMG all that sugar. How hard is it for a mother to pack healthy options for their child? I pack salad rolls every single day for my Timmy. Salad and fruit. There is no excuse for such lazy parenting, Did you see how big that kid is, he doesn't need any extra carbs I can tell you ......."

....
....

( I listened as I watched as her little Timmy, her eldest child,  took a swing at one kid, a kick at another, then launched himself over the railing like a kamikaze ninja on speed... looks like little Timmy is a handful.)
.....
"Sugar is evil, my child is a saint, I'm perfect, I know it all" ... or words to that effect.

.... 

"Only LAZY mothers just pack jam or Nutella sandwiches. Sugar has no place in a child's diet Blaggggggg Blaaahhhhgggg Blaaaggghhh......... cookies are food of the devil.........................harp harp harp ............. something something............ blah"

I smiled sweetly, nodded thoughtfully, and moved off toward my car.

My 9 year old blessing has fairy bread in her lunch box today.

BAD MOTHER 

LAZY MOTHER

In the car, I chuckled. I can't wait for her to hit the teenage years and discover that no matter how tightly you lock Little Timmy down, he is going to toss her salad roll and carrot sticks in the bin and buy himself a big bottle of coke and a hotdog.

I look forward to the day when she realises that if you lined up every child in the school, you actually can't tell which ones eat home made bircher muesli at the carefully set dinner table for breakfast and which one snacked on Fruit Loops in front of the TV.

I didn't tell her that once or twice I have actually served Apple Pie and Ice Cream for dinner to my children - (fruit, carbs, dairy protein = winning!)

And just like that, there is a spring in my step, because I know, for certain, that I am a bad, lazy mother. And my kids are thriving on it.

A nutty fruitcake

I love my Mum's Christmas cake.

Mostly because it is not so much a cake, rather a great big pile of nuts and fruit that is held together with the merest smidge of cake batter. Buttery pecans snuggle next to juicy chunks of ginger, macadamias slide alongside sweet apricots and toasted almonds make the perfect partner to rich dates.
This cake is always better the longer it rests, so I like to make mine RIGHT ABOUT NOW!

I bake it, then wrap and let it sit in the fridge for a couple weeks before I allow myself the first slice.
It's extremely rich so a thin slice is all you need with a hot cup of coffee for the perfect after dinner indulgence, and it lasts forever. You can seriously impress mother-in-laws and school principals with this baby!

I make mine in a large ceramic Lasagne tray... I know that isn't traditional but I don't have a tin large enough and I'm not going to buy one for a once a year cook-off.

Here's the recipe. If you decide to give it a whirl, don't get too hung up on quantities. 650g nuts is fine, a few extra dates or apricots won't hurt. The original recipe has no ginger but I think everything tastes better with ginger so I add it in. You can use whatever nuts you like... this year I added cooking pistachios and didn't have walnuts.

It's still BLOODY AWESOME !

Mums Nutty Christmas Cake

Heat oven to 300 degrees F ( slightly lower if fan forced). Line an 8" square tin (or your lasagne dish LOL) with several layers of baking paper.

Get a LARGE bowl. I mean LARGE okay ?
Place in 750g mixed nuts (pecan, macadamia, almond, brazil, walnut...) 
PLUS
250g roughly chopped dates, 180g chopped dried apricots, 250g glace' cherries (and a handful of chopped crystalized ginger :-)

Over the tops of nuts and fruit sift 1/2 cup sugar and 3/4 cup SR flour.

In a separate bowl whisk 3 eggs til fluffy, and add 1 tablespoon of sherry (or fruit juice if you don't have sherry).

Pour eggs mixture over the nuts and flour and gently tumble mix until all dry ingredients are damp and 'cake-batter-ish'. 

At this point you will probably look in the bowl and think there is nowhere near enough batter for this to work... trust me! The batter is basically just the glue between nuts and fruit. You have enough.

Press firmly into the prepared tin. 
Bake for 1 hr 30 mins, reducing heat slightly in last half hr to prevent burning.

Cool in tin then remove from tin and wrap in foil. Refrigerate for at least 3 days before cutting. 

Soooo good!

What do you bake each year for Christmas? 

( This recipe has been handwritten in my Mum's cookbook folder for years. If it is the same or similar to one you have created, or have seen published please don't be nasty, just gently tell me where credit should be given. I haven't 'stolen the recipe', I just only know it as Mums Nutty Christmas Cake. )

Ten Reasons Teenagers are great

1. They can make you coffee - this is an important milestone for any teen, the love and gratitude that pours out from Mum when they bring a lovely steaming mug of coffee is comparable to the elation you felt the first time your small child successfully wiped their own butt. Extra points for a couple of pieces of peanut butter toast. 

2. They can organise their own playdates. Even better, at those playdates you no longer feel that slightly wary "oh god, please don't hit little Johnny over the head with the Tonka Truck this time" feeling. Teenagers know how to share with their friends, to take turns and to not cry if they don't get the cupcake with the most sprinkles.

3. They sleep in !
   I repeat - They sleep in !

4. They take care of their own personal hygiene. They shower themselves. Your back no longer aches from bending over the bath tub, no tears and tantrums on hair-washing night. You no longer have any information about the consistency of anyone's poo. You don't have to wipe anything .  I know ! Winning!

5. They get your jokes and can hold a real conversation that doesn't involve Barbie or Thomas the Tank Engine. Real genuine discussions with actual multi-syllable words. 

6. They can sit through an entire movie without needing a toilet break. 

7. They can help out. Teenagers are capable of washing a sink of dishes and they can finally reach the clothes line. I'm not saying bribery isn't needed to get them to help out, but it sure is nice to be able to share the workload a little and if it helps, think of it as 'preparing them for when they leave home'.

8. The angst of finding a suitable babysitter with National working with Children certificate and at least three references is no longer needed. Yes my friends, teenagers babysit themselves !! It has been years since I worried if a day carer was secretly a deviant, or felt the need to place hidden cameras in a stuffed teddy bear. 

9. You can start to reclaim some of the space from the acres of Lego, matchbox cars and Barbie dolls. I'm not saying teenagers don't have stuff - my girls have enough makeup and hair product to put on a broadway show of Priscilla Queen of the Desert- but it isn't taking up every centimetre of the floor and cupboard space in the family room. I can now sit on the couch without the unexpected surprise of a stiff Barbie leg venturing where it wasn't invited. A walk to the bathroom can be made without turning on lights and checking for Lego landmines. 

10.  Teenagers are a photograph coming into focus. All your hard work, all the worry and fuss. Every time you guided them through saying 'please' and 'thankyou', each time you sat them on the naughty chair, every parent teacher interview at school, every exhausted phone call to your best friend asking for ideas. This is where you finally start to see the results. It's not perfect yet, there are glitches and stumbling blocks. But ever so slowly, through the teen years, the picture comes into focus and you see the grownup person you have been nurturing.

It's a beautiful thing.

Linking with Jess for  I Blog On Tuesdays xxx


 

Panic

Wide awake at 2 am.

Heart pounding

Pounding

Pounding

Pounding




Wide awake. Fearful and yet not really able to pin-point the fear.

Afraid of what?

Fearful of ???

My heart is flying, bouncing.
I can feel every 'whoosh' of my blood as it thunders through my veins.

I am anxious. Unsettled.
I am frightened. My mouth dry, my hands clammy.
It's two am and I am absolutely terrified of ....
Nothing.
Everything.

I hate these rude wake up calls.

These uninvited interruptions to my slumber.

I hate the searching through my mind, the arguments with myself.

I hate wondering where this came from and what it means.
I hate trying to calm myself, to talk sense to myself.

I hate the moment when I realise once again that this is a random, unfounded physical reaction to a surge in Fight Or Flight Adrenaline.

That there is nothing to fear,

Because my heart is still pounding. And I remain hyper alert.

At 2 am.

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Happy Blogging xx

Things I know - Raw

I know it sounds cliché , I know I am supposed to be far more enlightened.
I know that every step towards independence is a good thing and I know he will be alright.
But my heart aches.
It aches, raw and exposed.

My baby is not a baby and although many moments and footsteps have brought us to this place, although I have had many warning signs and A-ha moments, right now I am absolutely struggling with the fact that my baby does not need me.

He tolerates me, he humours me.
He loves me and quickly cuddles me in the morning, fleetingly and then he's gone.
It's as though he knows that if he lingers too long within my arms, in my clutching embrace, I just might not let him go.


I know how to love, and to protect fiercely.
I know how to close ranks, and I know how to close the doors.
If you need a master in shutting out the world, an expert in finding a quiet, safe haven, a retreat, I'm your girl. But ....

I don't know how to do this.
I don't know how to let go.

 

 

What I know, (and what I don't know) with Rhianna at A Parenting Life

 

 

The Bath - IBOT

Steam warms the room as hot water pours into the spa bath. A few drops of beautiful oil adds a delicate scent to the air. Large fluffy towels lie folded at the step, flickering candles give a soft glow. I have my favourite music playing softly in the background. A lovely fat book, freshly selected from the library waits for me, a glass of wine on the ledge beside me as I dip my toes into heaven. I sink in slowly, savouring the delicious pinpricks that spread across my skin, adjusting to the new soothing warmth.

'Just what I needed. An hour or two to just be calm and serene'

photo credit

Total relaxation. I sigh, closing my eyes and resting my head back to float in this cocoon.

Knock Knock

A whisper through the door .. "Mummy I forgot to give you a note from school."
I smile gently and softly say "That's okay chicken, you can show me in the morning. Go back to bed" .. I drift my fingers across the surface of the water, watching tiny bubbles form and disappear.
A louder whisper " Mummy I love you. Are you going to kiss me goodnight?"
I reply "I love you too sweetie, and I already kissed you when I put you to bed, remember? Hop back in bed now okay ?"
Little feet patter away.
I force my shoulders down, stretch my neck out and let the heat work its magic on the bunched muscles.

photo credit

"Calm and serene...."


Knock Knock

"Babe, do we have eggs?" asks The Man I Married.
I open one eye and reply "Yes. Third shelf on the fridge."
He leaves.  He returns. "I can't find them. Are you sure we've got some?"
I sigh.: " Well they were there this morning.. do you need them right this second?"
TMIM replies " No, don't worry, just relax and enjoy your bath."
I turn on the spa pump and jets of water start to knead my back. I can't hear my music anymore, over the noise of the pump. I stare at the flame of the candle, imagining it is alive. 

 'Shhh, relax. Calm and serene, calm and serene'

photo credit 

Knock Knock

"Mum, did you wash my skirt for school today? I can't find it." she yells through the door.
I sit up, water sloshing against the bath edge. 
"I washed everything that was in the hamper. If you put it in there I washed it. If it wasn't in the hamper it was not washed. I am trying to have a bath."
There is no reply but I can sense she is still there waiting for more.
"I do not have it in here with me."
"Fine " she says, in that way that tells me everything is far from fine. A few seconds and a door slams.
I sit there, water cooling on my back as I try to gather myself and find my happy place again.

photo credit 

 'Relax. Be calm and serene, please be calm and serene'

Knock Knock

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

"What?"  (hissed between clenched teeth.)
J-man says through the door " Do you know I have an army cadet camp this weekend?"
I roll my eyes. "Yep. I know that."
"It's just that I need to get my snacks. We have to take our own snacks. When do you think we can do that?"
I count to ten. "How about tomorrow hmm? Because right now, I'm naked in the bath. "
J-man thinks it over "Yep, good plan". He walks away.

 'Focus! You are Calm and serene !'

The spa pump is giving me a headache. I can't get comfortable.

photo credit 

Knock Knock

The Man I Married opens the door and switches on the heat lamps. I am blinded. .
 "Wow, it's too hot in here." He flips on the fan and any exposed, damp skin on my body immediately puckers into goosebumps.
"Is your bath nice? The dogs wanted to say hello."
Two fluffy dogs come jumping onto the bath ledge, knocking over my glass of wine. They both enjoy the spilled contents as I watch.

 'Calm and serene have left the building'

I gaze at TMIM. I can't find words, or at least any words that will not leave him and I at loggerheads.

"Actually, I think I'll just get out."

He looks at the bath and then back at me. " So soon? That's a bit of a waste of all that water don't you think?"

He walks out, leaving the fluffy ones behind, trying to jump in the water with me. Damp puppy paws have reduced my towels to a dirty mess.

"Bonkers" I mutter. "My life is completely bonkers".

Linking with Jess for  I Blog On Tuesdays xxx




 

Weed Whacking - I Must Confess

I Must Confess... I am not ready for Spring.

There is nothing as pretty or as uplifting as the first few days of spring. Warm air, blue skies and freshly burst blossoms.
Ahh .. the serenity.

At this time of year I am overwhelmed by the urge to kiss the baby blossoms,  race to the chemist for Zyrtec and then the supermarket for extra strength wax .

It's time for the annual spring clean.

Not of the house mind you. Nope, the house has been just fine all winter. Floors mopped, bathrooms cleaned, kitchen sorted.
No, the spring clean I'm talking about is the Annual Weed-whacking, fake tanning, Get-ready-to-bare-your-skin event that takes place in the first week of September across our fine nation.

It's all very well, while snuggled in the Blue Jeans, woollen jackets and Ugg boots of Winter, to imagine that your lily-white shoulders and bikini line will never see the light of day.
But ,with the first warm days of Spring comes the realisation that there is maintenance to be done. In fact,  maintenance should have been done over winter and now we are looking at a total rebuild. A PAINFUL rebuild.

I prefer the  D.I.Y. approach to the great Winter Weed Whacking, because, lets face it, getting your girlie bits out in a beauty salon and hearing shocked gasps is not pleasant. Nor is it fun when your freshly graduated beauty therapist tells you she is going to have to ask for a Senior Consultation on this tricky job. Why show one stranger your Lady Garden when you can have a room full of strangers discussing the best plan of attack?

The D.I.Y. version is a private undertaking, usually aided with a couple glasses of whatever is available in the alcohol cabinet. Because ripping pubes out hurts. Those ads showing some tanned beauty smiling serenely as she Epilady's her hairs away are a crock of Sh*t. The ads where a pretty young thing whisks her (non-existent)  underarm hair away as she laughs into the camera are telling great big whopping lies.

Trust me when I tell you NO-ONE laughs as 500 hairs are simultaneously ripped out of their armpit. That is just not a funny thing. Watching someone else have it done- Hil-ar-ious!! Experiencing it yourself... not so hilarious.

DIY waxing comes with it's own special dilemmas. Sure, no-one is there to judge or gasp, but this also means no-one is there to reach the tricky bits. It takes some fortitude and brashness to apply a wax strip to an area of VERY delicate and sensitive skin and then willingly rip it away. The fact that the puppy dog is lying on the other side of the bathroom door, howling in unison with you, is a very good indication that THIS was not a good idea.

Grand ideas of a full Brazillian get rapidly down-scaled to being a minimal tidy up of any area outside the bikini zone.

And then once finished, you discover that instead of a silky smooth "Lets go to Bondi" Bikini Bod, you now have a spotty, red, angry plucked chicken effect going on.

 Very alluring !

Luckily, given the fickle weather in my part of Australia, the sunny Spring skies will give way to more rain and there will be time for the redness and plucked-chickenness to go away, before I am really expected to bare all in a bathing suit.

Are you ready for Spring?

Linking with Kirsty for I Must Confess On Mondays at My Home Truths