relaxing......

Last year we put a deck on our house.  It was a long held dream.  I had imagined the deck so many times in that corner of the house that I would hang up the clothes on the hills hoist (where the deck now is) and fantasize about sitting in comfy chairs one metre higher in the air - drinking tea on the deck, having friends over on the deck, reading the paper over a morning scrambled free range egg, having BBQs on the deck, absorbing the sunset over Mt Gravatt, reading my Bible on the deck, and RELAXING.

My husband hung a hammock and a swing chair in the corner of the deck.  I think he was also visualising quiet afternoons swinging in the hammock, beer in hand.

It has turned into gymnastics corner.

Whatever child comes to our house cannot resist swinging and contorting in the hammock and the chair, and doing death defying acts in the swing chair.  Wrapping a friend in the hammock and wildly twisting the ropes has become the best game.

There have only been a couple of accidents so far.....

I guess the relaxing part will come.

In time.

When the sleeping hormones of adolescence hit.

puppet theatre

I thought I would take a couple of quick photos of the puppet theatre I made for the girls a few years ago (with some help from a sewing friend - I am not a sewer - I have the vision - others support me in the sewing part of the vision).  They use it fairly often, as puppetry in the home is modeled by their mother. 

It is based on no design except the one from my head.  I bought a clothes rail horse thing from Kmart, then made the material to fit around it.  I used thickish navy cotton and shiny sparkly red fabric.

Here is it with the curtains open.  You can un-velcro the puppet navy bit and it becomes a stage with red curtains.

Here it is from behind.  There are yellow pockets down the side bits of fabric to store props, extra puppets, snacks, your little sister...

And here are the performers modeling the theatre again.  I also made a big yellow bag for it to go in for storage.  It takes up as much room as...ummmm... a big fold up camping chair.  It lives up the top of a cupboard when not in production.

As far as I know this is the only clothes rail puppet theatre I have seen.

On other exciting news, my wonderful husband is making my very own Logosdor puppet box. Yayy.  Here is a sneak peek....

I hope there is room in the box for the spa and the pony paddock that Dizzy (my puppet) insists on.

mickey stories; chapter two

I have a small friend called Mickey.  Well, let's call him that to protect his privacy.

He has a cheeky smile and is very inventive.

This is a true story as recounted by his mother from when he was a toddler.

Mickey's mum had been getting lots of migraine type headaches, so she was advised by the doctor to lie down quietly on the couch with her eyes closed and a cool washer on her forehead when she felt symptoms coming on.  One afternoon, after Mickey-wrangling for most of the day,she felt a headache coming, so she lay on the couch, leaving Mickey quietly playing with some toys.
A little while later she came to suddenly when she smelt smoke, looked around, and saw no Mickey.
She rushed to the open front window and saw a naked Mickey bottom winking down the street.  Smoke was coming from the oven.
As far as she can tell, Mickey put a tea towel in the oven, turned all the knobs as far as they could go, climbed up onto the kitchen bench, opened the front window, undressed, waited for the postman to come, and, when he rounded the corner, leapt out of the window to chase the postman down the street while the teatowel burned.

I asked here what she looked after first - the child or the fire.

She said she put out the fire, then chased the child.

Her headache did not subside.

The end.

when communication happens

I am going to go on an excited speech therapy rant again.  Stick with me. 

Today at school the teacher and I introduced a PODD (Pragmatic Organised Dynamic Display) book to her class.  This is basically a big book of small symbolic pictures, all laminated and colourful, arranged in category pages eg  an ouside activites page, a cooking page, a feelings page etc. 

All except one of her kids have no words yet, and so we are encouraging vocabulary growth and understanding.  And we decided to use this symbol book to help us.  Basically you point to the pictures as you talk, and to communicate back the kids point to the pictures.
So I started telling the story, using the PODD book, of my sailing adventures and how I go a big bruise on my arm. And one kid pulls the book over and points to 'hurt' 'arm'.  And then I go on to tell them using the book that I had forgotten my lunch today, and what should I do.  Another child, who has not communicated with me all year with words or signs or pictures or even eye contact, pulled the book over and pointed to the pictures (which were on different pages)
'shop'
'pizza'
He thought I should go to the shop and buy a pizza.
The teacher and I melted with excitement.  He had seen my problem, thought of a solution, and communicated it well.
I wondered out loud if there was a healthier option.
He pointed to
'sandwich'
'apple juice'.
SO exciting.
So cool.

Needless to say, I felt compelled to buy a chicken sandwich and an apple juice for lunch and go and eat it with him.

A very good day when communication happens.

raising girls

We have just been to a talk by Peter Janetzski on 'Raising Girls'.  A very interesting night, and here a few things I learned.

- I am an equity feminist, not a gender feminist
- We need to be honest and up front with the girls about 'the talk'
- we should advocate strongly against culture influences of over-sexualising our children, and let them play more (see Collective Shout)
- I should tell my girls how much they are worth and what they mean to me, and how beautiful they are!
- family role modeling is very important

I am sure there is more - but I am tired and need to process.

hmmmmmmmmm
processing..........

dancing concert

Well.  It's done.

Dancing concert 2010.  My fourth one in a row.

All things considered, it went very well.  There were minor costume dramas (somehow my oldest daughter lost half of her costume between the dress rehearsal and the performance - from a sealed bag!!!), parts where the youngest dancing class made everyone laugh out loud, lovely dancing from everyone, and very proud mummy moments as my two girls remembered all their steps and looked amazing and smiled.

5 things I like about our dance school
1. I don't have to sew costumes for the concert - we just hire them each year for $15 and they get reconfigured into different dances
2.  I have not met any pushy dancing mums - every other mum is happy to lend a hand with my dancing mum inadequacies - forgetting pins, lipstick, hairspray, where the children are supposed to be
3. All of the girls in the concert look beautiful, not tarty.  Even the big hip hop teenagers.
4. Our dancing teacher is calm and nothing ever seems to phase her.  I have never heard her shout - even when she had a baby in between the ballet exams and the concert last year.  She understands we have lives other than her dancing school.
5. My girls seem to have learnt to dance!

Some pictures...

sailing

Today I helped the youth group with a sailing day.  I had to sail a laser (read - small boat) out of the canals at Raby Bay into the wilds of Moreton Bay, and then find the right beach where all the teenagers were.

I set off confidently down the canal, tacking past the million dollar boats and houses, until - just within sight of the mouth of the canal - I flipped the boat when the extension bit on the tiller got stuck up the back of my lifejacket.  So I floated for a while, pondering what I should do, then I swam the boat over to the barnacle covered rocks and managed to get going again (with thanks to Mat for being a gentleman!).  All was going well until I tried to come into the beach from way out in the bay.  Then I flipped it again. 
As I lay in the water, hanging onto the centreboard and wishing I had way more upper arm strength to get it upright again, and thinking Jessica Watson was very amazing to go around the world  by herself in a little boat - I thought 'how am I going to get out of here?'  Eventually the tide will wash me in....I'll just look up at the clear Brisbane sky, and pray a bit. 
After what seemed about a year of floating (probably ten minutes) a huge wave came and flipped the boat right back up again.
Thanks God.
So I sailed into the beach and sailed teenagers around all day, then sailed back down the canal in the afternoon.  And cannily avoided cleaning the boats by saying I had to look after my children.

Bruise count = 12 (five bumps on my head from the boom, a very impressive upper arm bruise which I don't remember getting, and legs that look like someone has taken to them with a big stick.)
Sunburn count = back of calves and lower back (didn't even notice my rashie riding up!)
Aching muscles count = all of them  Maybe I am getting too old for this....

Level of self satisfaction after canal manoeuvres = very very high..