There's a lot of good stuff to be said about the girls becoming older. They can dress themselves, mostly feed themselves, look after their belongings (I live in hope with hats and memory sticks), contribute to the household, be left alone for a little while, have a good conversation and laugh at my jokes.
But recently I have noticed one thing.
The Gap has disappeared.
The Gap between when I go to bed and when they go to bed.
The Gap where I can watch some bad telly, chill out on the couch, write blog posts, hang around on social media, chat with Chris, read War and Peace in peace (side note - this is our bookclubs book for this month - BRING IT) and eat the secret cupboard chocolate.
They are going to bed at the same time or AFTER me. It is late at night and there are still children wandering around the house.
I know I have to get used to this - if I want them to grow to be adults then they should probably have more freedoms and responsibilities.
I will have to find another time for my Gap activities....
and never reveal where the chocolate is.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Sunday, February 1, 2015
#swimaKeveryday
I made a big promise/resolution/decision in January - that I would try and swim a kilometre a day. For as long as I could.
I have done one month of this - and have averaged about 5/7 days in a week of swimming a kilometre. Heading into my second month. Which should be a little easier because swimming squad has started again.
In term four 2014 I joined the local primary school swimming squad, and swum with the grade sixes. That's about the level I am. Each training session I do about 1.6 km - including BUTTERFLY. I am trying to do 100 metres of butterfly in a row (with flippers). Getting there.
Swimming is so good for me for heaps of reasons - it doesn't impact on any of my joints, I can spend the time praying and thinking and writing scripts in my head (hmmm wish I had a waterproof notepad to jot down ideas), there are no screens involved, my lung capacity is improving, my mental health enjoys it, and it is toning up all of my muscles.
I am getting big swimmers shoulders...but I kind of had those already. Now I just deserve to have them.
I am going to see if I can keep this up for term one. And crack the three digit weight barrier as a side effect.
Just keep swimming.....
I have done one month of this - and have averaged about 5/7 days in a week of swimming a kilometre. Heading into my second month. Which should be a little easier because swimming squad has started again.
In term four 2014 I joined the local primary school swimming squad, and swum with the grade sixes. That's about the level I am. Each training session I do about 1.6 km - including BUTTERFLY. I am trying to do 100 metres of butterfly in a row (with flippers). Getting there.
Swimming is so good for me for heaps of reasons - it doesn't impact on any of my joints, I can spend the time praying and thinking and writing scripts in my head (hmmm wish I had a waterproof notepad to jot down ideas), there are no screens involved, my lung capacity is improving, my mental health enjoys it, and it is toning up all of my muscles.
I am getting big swimmers shoulders...but I kind of had those already. Now I just deserve to have them.
I am going to see if I can keep this up for term one. And crack the three digit weight barrier as a side effect.
Just keep swimming.....
Monday, January 12, 2015
flashback - Gab graduates
Due to government decisions made a few years ago, all the grade sixes in Queensland graduated in 2014, ready to start highschool in 2015. This included my Gab.
Who is incredibly tall. Possibly as tall as some year twelve students who graduated in 2014. If I gave her a scarf, some scuffed jeans and some Vans she could rock up to uni in 2015 and no-one would bat an eyelid.
Graduation dress chosen by Gab after extensive searching and explanations of how she doesn't really wear a dress but will on this one occasion. Phew.
Check it.
Oh to be 11 with long red curly hair and legs that go forever.
200 kids trooped across the stage to get their certificates. It was.....extensive. Fortunately, being an old hand at these things, I had packed life savers, crackers and tea in a flask.
The kids all had to sing a song together that Gab said took two hours practice each day for two weeks before the farewell night. It was pretty impressive getting 200 kids to do choreographed moves, even the ones who clearly were not dancers. Or singers, Or movers.
Very proud of her, She was awesome.
But I have just realised, as I cleaned out the girls drawers over the summer break - there is no more primary school uniforms. I really have no reason to go back to primary school. All of that hard won knowledge about the primary school lay of the land, the ins and outs, the people and the customs - is no longer needed. From when I was a very nervous first time mum in prep, and gaining confidence through mistakes (forgetting bookpacks, the girls losing several hats, jumpers and lunchboxes, forgetting excursions, annoying other parents), to swanning around the school next to my enormous children..
I kind of forgot that I graduated primary school too in 2014.
Chin up. What can possibly go wrong in highschool?
Who is incredibly tall. Possibly as tall as some year twelve students who graduated in 2014. If I gave her a scarf, some scuffed jeans and some Vans she could rock up to uni in 2015 and no-one would bat an eyelid.
Graduation dress chosen by Gab after extensive searching and explanations of how she doesn't really wear a dress but will on this one occasion. Phew.
Check it.
Oh to be 11 with long red curly hair and legs that go forever.
200 kids trooped across the stage to get their certificates. It was.....extensive. Fortunately, being an old hand at these things, I had packed life savers, crackers and tea in a flask.
The kids all had to sing a song together that Gab said took two hours practice each day for two weeks before the farewell night. It was pretty impressive getting 200 kids to do choreographed moves, even the ones who clearly were not dancers. Or singers, Or movers.
Very proud of her, She was awesome.
But I have just realised, as I cleaned out the girls drawers over the summer break - there is no more primary school uniforms. I really have no reason to go back to primary school. All of that hard won knowledge about the primary school lay of the land, the ins and outs, the people and the customs - is no longer needed. From when I was a very nervous first time mum in prep, and gaining confidence through mistakes (forgetting bookpacks, the girls losing several hats, jumpers and lunchboxes, forgetting excursions, annoying other parents), to swanning around the school next to my enormous children..
I kind of forgot that I graduated primary school too in 2014.
Chin up. What can possibly go wrong in highschool?
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Scooter and her bad boy dog crush
One of my new year's resolutions is to be more regular with blogging. I had kind of forgotten I wrote a blog. So here I am back on the blog-wagon.
Other new year's resolutions include:
- learning how to make shortcrust pastry
- not buying any new clothes (excluding underwear and swimmers) - use what I have and opshop all the way
- moving more and eating less - this prompted this week's goal of 'swim a K every day' - I need to crack the three digit barrier
- cooking my way through Julie Goodwin's 20/20 book (I did this last year with Jamie Oliver's 15 minute meals - great way to try heaps of new recipes and really commit to a cookbook)
- reading War and Peace
...
and whatever else I decide to try!
Anyway, onto today's blog topic. My dog Scooter and her bad boy dog crush. Over Christmas we went down to Armidale to hang out with family and friends. We stayed most of the time at my friend's farm, where she had two dogs. One was a border collie like Scooter, and the other was a cattle dog cross called Charlie.
Scooter could not leave Charlie alone.
She would follow him everywhere, yipping to get his attention. She would gaze longingly at him. She would visit his pen when he was locked away for the night. She would find a ball and bring it to him. She would get into his space at every opportunity.
If she could, I think Scooter would have Charlie's name tattooed on her neck, and photos of Charlie pasted up in her kennel. She would find excuses to walk by his locker and gaze at him across the classroom. She would write poetry and sing Taylor Swift.
Every couple of hours Charlie would tire of her obsessive behaviour and roll her, pin her to the ground with a paw and mouth her neck, just to show her who was boss.
Scooter loved it and would come back for more every time. Treat me mean. I'm yours.
It was slightly embarassing to be the owner of a complete Charlie fangirl.
Even now when we are home again we mention Charlie and she looks around, hoping he will appear at the door, ready for her love.
And I thought I would have to deal with my daughter's crushes.....not the dog's.
Other new year's resolutions include:
- learning how to make shortcrust pastry
- not buying any new clothes (excluding underwear and swimmers) - use what I have and opshop all the way
- moving more and eating less - this prompted this week's goal of 'swim a K every day' - I need to crack the three digit barrier
- cooking my way through Julie Goodwin's 20/20 book (I did this last year with Jamie Oliver's 15 minute meals - great way to try heaps of new recipes and really commit to a cookbook)
- reading War and Peace
...
and whatever else I decide to try!
Anyway, onto today's blog topic. My dog Scooter and her bad boy dog crush. Over Christmas we went down to Armidale to hang out with family and friends. We stayed most of the time at my friend's farm, where she had two dogs. One was a border collie like Scooter, and the other was a cattle dog cross called Charlie.
Scooter could not leave Charlie alone.
She would follow him everywhere, yipping to get his attention. She would gaze longingly at him. She would visit his pen when he was locked away for the night. She would find a ball and bring it to him. She would get into his space at every opportunity.
If she could, I think Scooter would have Charlie's name tattooed on her neck, and photos of Charlie pasted up in her kennel. She would find excuses to walk by his locker and gaze at him across the classroom. She would write poetry and sing Taylor Swift.
Every couple of hours Charlie would tire of her obsessive behaviour and roll her, pin her to the ground with a paw and mouth her neck, just to show her who was boss.
Scooter loved it and would come back for more every time. Treat me mean. I'm yours.
It was slightly embarassing to be the owner of a complete Charlie fangirl.
Even now when we are home again we mention Charlie and she looks around, hoping he will appear at the door, ready for her love.
And I thought I would have to deal with my daughter's crushes.....not the dog's.
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