Tag Archives: mum

Family, Introspection, Relationships

Three score years and ten

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family_dunsborough

We were down in Dunsborough for mum’s 70th birthday celebration.

She had invited her family to Caves House for a breakfast.

The photos in the room were of Caves House in the year of her birth – 1939.

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This is the youngest member of the family being held by the oldest, my great aunt.

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I didn’t take many photos.  This is my mother’s cousin.  They are very close in age.

Two brothers married two sisters and mum and her cousin are both the third children of their respective pairings.

They used to play together.

They both have sons who are artists.

They are both into alternative health.

The birthday celebration was lovely.
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We brought up all the old stories… those awful eggplant patties even the dog refused to eat, the time she tried to make my brother sick of meat pies by making him eat them for every meal (she gave up after a fortnight), the education we received in transactional analysis…

But.

And I have never been so embarrassed.

How does it happen that you spell your mother’s name wrong in a video slideshow on her 70th birthday?

Please tell me how that could have happened?

OMG.

The shame.

I know my kids are going to deliberately spell my name wrong now.

It’s going to be one of those stories.

Up there with the eggplant patties.

And they’ll probably also add the inedible lime casserole I made last week.

Who knew you couldn’t substitute limes for lemons?

Family, Health

A mental health day

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Today I decided I needed a mental health day.

It was going to be a reasonably quiet day at work, I had plenty of rec leave up my sleeve and a very understanding boss.

A form tomorrow and a sigh of relief.

I had a few things to do.

I’m making a little slideshow for my mum’s 70th birthday.

How gorgeous is my mum?

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There’s something about the sixties… so glamourous.

I love the headbands, the pointy shoes, the gloves, the hats.

In the morning I met the lady who is coming to clean our house.  We’ve been doing our own cleaning but with both of us working full time and a recommended cleaner available, I thought it was time to say yes.

OMG our house is disgusting!

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It seems that some people are gifted in that department.  I am not one of them.

Then I had to go over to Mum’s house to pick up some more photos… which enabled me to have another cuddle with my new niece and score some salad for lunch.

Afterward I played with the photos before leaving to pick up my kids from school – a rare treat.

I actually thought I was supposed to be having parent-teacher meetings but that’s tomorrow.

At the end of the day I feel as if I have been on holiday for a week.

So relaxed.  Nice clean house.  And organised for Mum’s birthday… with the small exception of the present. *worried look*

I think the idea of regular mental health days is a winner.  🙂

Glen-model

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Glen-canade

Etiquette

I’d rather they smoke

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I hate it when people smoke around me – I hate it.

It makes my hair smell, my clothes smell.  I feel dirty.  I could be getting lung cancer.

So who made me say to Groover over lunch on Sunday: “I’d rather they smoke”?

A group of mothers with babies.

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No they weren’t breastfeeding.

Well they may have been but I don’t find that offensive, just normal.

And I don’t have a problem with lactating women going out to share a Sunday lunch of fish and chips with their friends.   No really, good on them.

What I do have a problem with is trying to sip my lemon, lime and bitters with the cloying smell of Johnson & Johnson babywipes mixed with baby poo wafting over me.

SERIOUSLY GROSS PEOPLE!

We’d got there late.

The pub was full to overflowing and the only table free was one in the corner next to a large table of mums and babies.

Personally I’d rather sit near the lactation crowd than a bunch of yobbos or even parents with active 4 year olds, so I was pleased when they pulled their stroller closer to them, unblocking the path to the table, and we sat down.

“Ohhhh isn’t she cute”, I said to Groover as we sipped our drinks (Does one sip beer… should I say slurped?), “Remember when ours were that little…”

We gazed fondly over at the crowd as we relived those fast dimming memories, and I also reflected on playgroup lunches… the sort you have when you become a member of the Bub Club.

Hugamuga was at work, and Dippity was volunteering at a local fair so we relished this unexpected opportunity for a middle-of-the-day date.

We started chatting about this and that… Groover’s new business, holiday fantasies, what we were going to do over Easter, the grocery shopping…

When…
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“What is that smell?”

I was back – 11 years ago – that revoltingly familiar poo/babywipe combination.

I couldn’t taste the lemon or the lime or the bitters.

The window above our table was locked shut.

The stroller had slid back between the tables.

I was trapped.

And the mother had laid her baby down on the padded bench seat and was changing it’s nappy.

At the table.

In the restaurant.

While other people were eating.

How can she think that’s okay?

On which planet is that okay?

Tell me I’m not alone in thinking that there are places to change baby’s nappies and peak hour dining on a Sunday afternoon is NOT one of them!

I’d have honestly preferred her to light up a cigarette.

For one, the smell would not have been so offensive.

And also, I’d have felt less inhibited about telling her to stop.

Mothers.  They can be intimidating.  I know.  I am one.

Introspection, Parenting

My Mum’s racy past

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mum

This is my mum and my daughter in 2005.  We were in Italy, in Venice in fact.

I thought I wouldn’t like Venice.  I thought it would be too much of a cliche, too geared for tourism.

It was.  I didn’t care.  I loved it.

The other week I caught up with my oldest cousin.  

When she was a teenager, my mum was a young adult.

According to my cousin she was the coolest auntie a girl could ever have.

She fought back to her parents.

She travelled the world.

She slept in the nude.

My cousin tells me she once overheard an argument between mum and my grandparents.

They were upset because she’d cashed in her savings to buy a ticket overseas to follow my Dad to Canada (eventually).

Mum said it was her money and she would do what she wanted with it, cashed up and took off and the rest, as they say is history.

The effect on my cousin was profound.  
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She kept the boarding passes mum gave her and used to look at them and imagine being like my mum.

In later life she travelled far and wide and still does.

Listening to my cousin I felt a kernel of pride that this was my mother she was talking about but interestingly also a sense of wonder.

Who was this woman?

This racy, defiant, inspiring person?

She just seemed like a normal mum to me… a little vehement about me not being a teacher (she didn’t enjoy her chosen profession…) but otherwise…

It is only now as an adult,  I recognise that I grew up with a pretty radical person.

Mum was always experimenting.

From eggplant patties (don’t ask – they were a disaster – even the dog wouldn’t eat them) to Transactional Analysis, she explored her inner and outer worlds and took us along for the ride.

This year she is celebrating a significant birthday.

Dad and I were going to start planning a party but we’ve been informed that there will be several functions.

A festival of Mum.

Bring it on – you deserve it!

Family

Surf shop boycott!

Today we had our annual social club Kids Christmas Party at Adventure World.  Always a good day out this represents the reason I pay my weekly two dollars to the work social club as it is such good value.  I pay $15 a ticket… normally adults pay $42 and kids $34… a saving of $92.  And it is only the one function.  Bargain!

Over the years we have got this outing down to a fine art.  Rashies, hats and sunblock for everyone.  Towels.  Seats for adults (because). One bag with lunch consisting of 3 baguettes filled with various fillings chopped into thirds.  One large container of drink.  And if the temperature is below 30C, light jumpers – hey that Freo doctor can get cold you know.  Today’s maximum was 23.  IMHO just a tad on the cool side for swimming but I digress.

Now. I’ve been a bit slack this year on the exercise front and I’ll admit that I’m not at my most svelte so I needed to upgrade the boardies and rashie which – to be honest – were a little snug.

So I got up early to pick up the baguettes from the Kirkwood Deli and then popped by the local surfshop for a quick browse.

The surf shop is big.  It’s like a supermarket sized surfshop.  There are racks and racks of bikinis, boardies and rashies not to mention several different brands of thongs (the ones you wear on your feet), a large selection of sunglasses and all manner of other surfing and social paraphernalia (gee whiz that’s a big word… had to look up the spelling).

But could I find anything remotely attractive to try on?  Attractive on me??  No.  Nothing.

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“Ah no actually.  I’m looking for a pair of boardies – to the knee would be great and would you happen to have a rashie that isn’t quite so skin-tight?”

“Yeah well those are the boardies” – he said pointing to the rack I was standing next to full of microshorts, “and all the rashies are tight.  That’s how they make them. Maybe you should get a tee-shirt.”

“Great” I muttered.  Resentfully.  No helpful suggestions there.  Silently screaming – couldn’t you please HELP ME?  Surely there must be something for the slightly overweight, over 40, want to spend some time with my kids in the sun mum?

But no.  There isn’t.

I did find a nice tee-shirt though.