Longing

Last weekend saw me and four spectacular women head down to Longbeach for a girls weekend.

It was pretty hard work.

We had dinner in the Bay on Friday night

then headed back to our humble accomodation...

On Saturday brunched in the Bay and gathered supplies so we had no further need to leave our house.

The other four went for a run and a swim. I did not (see post on aversion to sand).

Our mobile masseuse came to the house and massaged us in turn (for 7 hours!!).

Then we sat and read and talked and knitted and slept and listened to the beach and music and had facials and did our nails and ate and drank and generally relaxed.

It was wonderful. We didn't have to do any parenting, or nagging, or warning or disciplining. We didn't use the TV or the internet (although the phones were a must so we could hear how the boys faired without us).

It was a perfect weekend. And I'm already longing for the next one...

Only a mother could love...

As a parent, there are no more attractive children than your own.

From the moment their mushed up faces emerge from within you, you are smitten.

Every smile lights up your heart like a little bushfire.

Their eyes dance with laughter and your soul soars.

You peer into the prams of other parents and say 'aren't they gorgeous!' while thinking 'but not a patch on my little sproglett'

And then - one random Saturday - your son; your pride; your joy says 'Mummy...'

But when you turn around it seems all that pride in your child's seems ill-placed...



Then of course the older child wants to join in.


And yes, the backwards facing goggles have been removed and the faces have returned to normal. And yet, the image remains burned into my retinas.

The big O

Not a huge Oscar's fan but...



Tina Fey looks great!


SJP does not.

Coasting and such

We went away for a couple of days this weekend, being the Canberra Day long weekend. Nath and I are generally homebodies and don't really like going away. Nathan and I also don't like sand. Or sun. Or sweating. So the coast is pretty much the worst place we could be... but the kids love the beach so it was coastward bound we found ourselves.


Between gritted and gritty teeth we wandered and splashed and played.



I guess it wasn't so bad.




That is until the Ben Hur of the spider world found its way into the house. (Nathan and I also don't like spiders.)


We had an epic battle disposing of this bread-and-butter-plate-size arachnid. Amid much spraying and screaming and jumping and running (ours, not the kids) we emerged victorious. It has confirmed our belief that we must train Paterson to be the great white spider hunter.

And on the way home we had our third experience with 'gum in the hair thanks to Willy Wonka'. From memory, when the Violet Beauregard character (in both versions of the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) is about to try the three course meal gum, she takes out her current piece of gum and sticks it behind her ear.

Three times Lily has attempted this.

Three times she's had large chunks of hair removed from her scalp. Because I'm not that mother that's going to go through several hours of bright-blue chewing gum removal so she still looks normal. I'm the mother that hacks the blue right out and leaves a hole where the hair should be, because she never looks like she brushes it anyway.

Rosie

Lily and Rosie 2006

This morning we had our cat, Rosie, put down.

I've spoken about Rosie before. As I said in that post Nathan and I got her from the RSPCA just before the 2003 Canberra Bushfires. We found a little cat, about 6-12 months old who was likely to be put down because she wasn't a cute little kitten anymore and decided to take her home. She was a big-looking cat, but was actually just really furry. We called her Rosie.

Rosie loved being with us. She used to sit beside us all night. She sat on my belly when I was pregnant with Lil. But she had been absent more since the children arrived - primarily to escape too much loving. 'Rosie' was one of the first words Lily ever said. She crawled so that she could catch Rosie. Lily used to eat her food. She was often found sleeping under Paterson's cot. Paddy used to try to copy me whistling for her, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling 'who hoo'. She taught Paddy a valuable lesson about problem solving; one day he was trying to hit her with a plastic golf club and she hid under the sideboard. He notice the golf club wasn't long enough for him to be able to reach her, so he dropped it and went and found something longer... (clever, and slightly sociopathic...)

When I got home yesterday i knew something wasn't quite right. She seemed to have a problem with her back leg. I made a vet appointment, and then went to get her to bring her in the house so I'd know where to find her in time for the appointment. She sat quietly on the couch between me and Paddy; Paddy still and very gentle with her for a change. Lily and I took her to the vet and he when she got up to walk he noticed she was walking in circles, and only turning to the left. Apparently it was indicative of brain trauma, or infection. He dosed her up on antibiotics and kept her overnight, saying that if it were infection then we should see a big improvement by morning. And if not, then the kindest thing to do would be to put her down.

She didn't improve overnight.

So this morning I went in to see her in her little cage. She was quiet; she never was one to meow much. I patted her and talked to her about all the other noisy animals in the room, tears dropping slowly onto my shirt. She began to purr quietly. She rested her head in my hand and let me rub under her neck. The vet came then, and I picked her up to take her into the consulting room. They shaved her forearm, and I rubbed her neck. She started to purr again. Then meowed as the needle went in. She purred. Then stopped.

And now I'm at home I see her shadow everywhere she should be. I can feel my self prepare to see her, then the disappointment and sadness when I don't.

The worst thing is that this is not a pain that I'll experience alone. We haven't told Lily yet. We plan to pick her and her brother up, and go to the garden centre together to find a Rose to plant to remember her. I hope that helps her, because I don't really know how else to approach it.

So, bye bye Rose. Thanks for the cuddles and purrs and scratches and friendly bites, and putting up with the kids and their attempts to love you. We'll miss you.