Friller

Yesterday was the big day for Cherub; the day of the Grade 3/4 Concert featuring his star turn as Michael Jackson (when the time travellers visited the 80s).  Ever since I learned he was to have a small dance solo during the song, I have been ridiculously excited, and hounded him over the weeks to show me his moves.  I'm a card-carrying Stage Mother, of course I did. But he steadfastly refused, because he wanted it to be a big surprise.  The only thing he let me in on was that he'd be doing the famous moonwalk, so we've had ongoing impromptu sessions on that: Is this right, mum?  Nearly but you need to lift the other heel as you slide the foot back etc.  I was nearly as impatient as him for the day of the concert to arrive.



The theatre had been booked when the teachers were still implementing workplace bans on out-of-hours labour as part of their industrial action.  Which meant we had to have a daytime concert.  This was not quite as much fun, as the kids got bussed back to school straight afterwards and we parents had to rush back to collect them - no big hugs in the theatre foyer and chats with other proud parents over a glass of wine.  And no going off for a celebratory gelati afterwards, our family tradition.  Nontheless, it was fun as usual to watch all those happy, enthusiastic children giving it their all.



Another Mum and I collaborated on the zombie costumes for Thriller and I was very pleased with how cool they looked. It made that boring production line sewing and running around organising fabric dye worthwhile.  But better than pride in my own handiwork was the pride I felt in the children.  A friend of mine taught me a new word recently: Nachas, which is a Yiddish word meaning the pride or joy one feels for the success of another - often one's child - particularly if one took part in the process of achieving that success.  This concert gave me great volumes of nachas, not only for my kid but also for some of my tap students who popped up with tap-dancing solos that they'd obviously choreographed themselves.  None of them told me about it beforehand either, so I was very close to squealing when they started breaking out their well-executed moves.



As for Cherub, he did such a good job!  He was word-perfect with his lines and spoke clearly and confidently.  He danced well and sang loudly and tunefully.  And when he busted out his moonwalk the crowd went wild.  Fixit and I were bursting with pride.

 

My favourite moment though, was not his splendid moonwalk.  It was the moment just before he danced his solo.  He stepped forward and adjusted his jacket and glove. Then we saw him take a big, steadying, oh-my-goodness, here-I-go breath.  And then a little grin of excited pride crept over his face, and you can see him firmly repress it, just before he listened for his cue.  It was so cute, so very him.



Great job, Cherub!

School Holidays, in no particular order

The boys are learning about English history at home through the medium of comedy this year; initially, with the [age-appropriate] books and DVDs of Horrible Histories, and currently, with the [rather less appropriate but with the same sense of humour] Blackadder dvds. The Cherub can do a very good Baldrick impression, and both boys are word-perfect on some of the songs from Horrible Histories, notably the list of English monarchs and The Party King song about Charles II. Cherub has also been inspired to express his obsession with these shows in creative ways, notably exploring role-play (aka dressing-up) ...



... and artistic expression (aka drawing.)

 

We had a nice, lazy time over the school holidays, chiefly to let Climber and me regain our equilibrium after the stresses and demands of high school. Lots of sleeping-in, lots of mooching round the house interspersed with some fun activities like a day at an indoor pool with a water-slide or a run in the park.



Our Easter was nice - I tried my hand at home-made hot cross buns with mixed results - the bad results were the fault of my oven (buns were pale on top and burnt on the bottom) or of my trying to bake when feeling ill (buns were flat and tough) - but the ones that worked well were delicious, so I'll try it again next year.

 

This is me being sick and pathetic later on Good Friday, the boys and the cat all ended up coming in for cuddles and stories. We're reading the His Dark Materials (aka The Golden Compass) trilogy by Phillip Pullman. I think the cat fancies himself as my daemon. 

 

The Easter Bunny left a delivery on the front door nice and early, and then I laid out a clue hunt for eggs-from-us in our garden. Kids love a clue hunt, don't they?  (Except sometimes I think Climber finds it a bit stressful, in case he can't work out a clue and "fails". My lad. So easily crushed. And he has always made fantastic clue hunts for the rest of us, since a young age, but gets too anxious to enjoy them when they're made for him.) All in all, with the bunny and the egg hunt and the gifts from extended family, they received a sickening amount of chocolate. It was all finished off within 7 days. I must be getting soft in my old age, there was a time when I would have rationed it far more strictly.



We went to see Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and enjoyed it for the performances, the singing and the musical numbers, and most of all for the amazing effect of the car: driving, floating and flying, not to mention taking a bow at the end. I thought the script was a bit ... I don't know, a series of words designed to get you from one musical number to the next? Lacking finesse, I suppose, but that's an adult quibble, and the kids certainly didn't mind. The show was great though, the kids would happily have seen it again.

The New Purple Bike.

Meet Violet Beauregarde, my new purple ladybike.  Isn't she lovely?  I hope she is much nicer than her fictional counterpart, and that she doesn't have a thing for chewing gum.  I can't wait to take her out for a ride.

The Cherub, the Climber and I (on my old bike) have been riding to school most mornings.  Climber rides on his own, like the big grown-up high-schooler that he is now, and Cherub and I go at Cherub-pace behind him.  It's a 5-kilometre ride for us, and it is a lovely, refreshing and exhilarating way to start the day. Far more pleasant than driving, especially in late summer and early Autumn, when the mornings are crisp but not cold.  I love riding behind Cherub. We don't go very fast, but we can have little chats and he looks very sweet bobbing about, as he pedals, and checks to make sure it's safe when he crosses roads or tramlines, and gives little waves of acknowledgment to car-drivers who are waiting for us to pass.

The more I ride, the less fond I become of The Lycras, those aggressive and righteous cyclists who think wearing neck-to-knee lycra gives them the right to behave like fascists. They're all men, of course, the Mean Lycras, as if you needed me to tell you that. The first day Climber rode to High School on his own, he messed up doing the exit from bike-path to school crossing and was abused by an intolerant Lycra, which is akin to hassling a Learner driver, in my opinion, and you shouldn't do it! One of the things I like about cycling is the feeling of being part of a community, a two-wheeled, zen-like, planet-saving, healthy, gentle community, so when angry Lycras start abusing other cyclists, it feels traitorous as well as unpleasant.  If you're going to be a road-rager, get back in your car, I say.

The House my Grandpa Built

This evening I took Cherub to meet my Dad at the house my Grandfather built.  Tomorrow it will belong to a new family. Today was the last chance to see it, to walk through it again, and to remember the old days.

 

My grandfather was a carpenter, and this house is full of the most wonderful cupboards. I dream of good cupboards.  Rental houses tend not to have helpful storage solutions.

As kids we were fascinated by this revolving kitchen cupboard.  If you were small enough, you could go right the way round. I wouldn't let Cherub try it tonight though. 



Dad says these ones in the main bedroom, shown below, were french polished. To be honest I'm not quite sure what that involves, but it sounds posh, doesn't it?  They're a bit knocked about now in places, but still lovely and glossy.



This is my Dad in his old bedroom, with the cunning little drop desk.  The bedroom seems tiny to me, hard to imagine two boys sharing it comfortably, but then it does have wonderful cupboards.  There would have been a place for everything.



Imagine building your house, your whole house.  If I wear a dress I've sewn, I feel quite proud.  But just think how you must feel, looking at a house, with clever revolving kitchen cupboards and dropleaf desks and drawers on bedheads, and a garage and a garden shed, and knowing that you'd made that. Wow.



One of the discussions we had at our last Craft Camp was about the nature of making.  I think it was Janet who said that, statistically, people who make come from people who make.  My Mum has always made things, for as long as I can remember.  Wonderful, quite adventurous cooking for the day (curries from scratch! ginger beer!), gorgeous colourful crochet, the best jam you've ever eaten, beautiful handpainted silk scarves, t-shirts, painted t-shirts, sculptures, drawings.  My Dad didn't do the regular cooking, but every so often he'd do a speciality, like baklava.  And he has always been keen to potter in the shed, preferably with power tools.  And my grandfather built a house! Thinking about all that makes me feel happy and part of something.  The satisfaction that I feel as I attempt hot cross buns from scratch, or make clothes for me and my family, or even, like a madwoman, take on the costuming again for Cherub's forthcoming school concert, is a gift that has been handed to me from my family. That's really special.



Both my boys are makers too.  I hope they always are. Especially if the Climber can knock up more delicious dinners for us, like he did tonight: Lamb Cutlets with yoghurt on couscous, from the Year 7 Food Tech textbook!  Mm-mmm.

Head of Steam.

Dear Stage Manager at our Fete Performance.
Were you having a bad day on Saturday?  Or did you take against me? Why is it a problem for me to set up when a band is playing but not for a band to set up when my school is performing? Are dancing groups less credible than musicians? Also, it was not my fault things were running late, my dancers (and their families) and I waited patiently for half an hour to perform too.  We may have gone over our allotted time by 5 or so minutes, but the schedule was behind because of the Silent Auction, not me. Your attempt to  prevent all the kids coming on at the end to take their final bow was rude, and didn't save you any time.  And finally, it was ungracious of you not to thank us for coming along to perform.  In previous years, we've had a nice introduction, a public thank-you and usually a private one.  We've done this for 7 years now, half of my performers are students at your school, and my business also donates stuff to the fete every year, yet on Saturday I didn't feel happy to support your school community, I felt angry and unvalued.  I understand you're a volunteer, but so am I, and I go to considerable effort to put on a good show.  At least the audience appreciated us.
Signed
Extremely Peeved.
 
And now that I've got that off my chest, maybe I can start to feel the pride and happiness I should have been feeling after the show for the wonderful job my kid tappers did this year, bless their tappy little toes.

We started with the big kids first, doing their chair dance.  Ace, as usual.



The littlies were fantastic this year, and tapped FOR THE WHOLE SONG!! Some years they just stand there looking confused, but these guys knew what to do, and they did it. Bravo, tap-babies!



These 2 beginners looked like professionals, and barely needed my help.



The Gliders had a pretty hard routine this year! They've done really well to learn it, and did a great job.



The cheeky and delightful Shufflers. They sure know their stuff.



The irrepressible Groovers. They are star performers, this crew. 



Thanks to Nell and Fixit for help, and to the wonderful tap families. They are the best.

Marching on

Man, I'm looking forward to the school holidays!  I am looking forward to sleeping in and loafing round the house, and a little rest from my strenuous new timetable at tap (all my evening classes are now on Monday and Tuesday nights, which is great in terms of spending more time with the family, but physically more tiring) .  Mostly though, I'm looking forward to a rest from trying to keep Climber up to speed with all he has to do at High School, because at the moment, he, poor, tired, culture-shocked love, is the Mayor of Vague-Town.  Which means, to help him cope, I've had to ramp up my role as the Queen of Chivvy-Land, and may I just say, it's exhausting and boring.   I spend an inordinate amount of time and energy checking where he is (he drifts away to quiet rooms at home), whether he's done his tasks (usually not), and whether there's any extra stuff on the agenda that he's forgotten to tell me about (quite often). I do feel sorry for him.  It's not that he can't do this stuff, but he is so overwhelmed with it at the moment that he just wants to be when the day is over, to idle, to dream, to play.  And I have to keep bringing him back to homework, packing the school bag for the next day's lessons, flute practice, soccer training, uniform in the wash, lunch-bag on the kitchen-sink and so on.  I'm sick of always telling him to eat up! because we are rushing out the door.  I want the young dreamy dreamer to be able to take as long as he likes with his food, to have more time with his imaginary games.  So roll on, holidays!

On the whole though, High School is going well. He likes the teachers, the kids and the curriculum.  He's enjoying learning to play the flute, and progressing well with it.  (Hot cross buns, hot cross buns, one-a-penny, two-a-penny, hot cross buns is sounding rather good now.) We had one minor glitch regarding a science assignment where he had to email his completed assignment and couldn't (we think the file was too large but it's difficult to know with ipads, and of course it all happened on a night I was at work and unable to assist with IT issues) and his teacher was brusque and dismissive when a highly anxious and stressed out Climber, having given up his recess and lunch to try and solve the emailing problem, at last ventured to ask for help on what he should do.  However, I had some conversations with the teacher involved and the Year 7 Co-ordinators and we have agreed that whilst it is understandable that teachers get sick of the computer ate my homework type excuses, they could perhaps be mindful of not brushing off stressed out Year 7s who are new to the system, just in case they give the impression that asking for help in high school is a waste of time.

In other news:

The kids played soccer in a Cup Tournament last weekend on as savagely cold and wet an Autumn Day as you could imagine. That's Melbourne for you: heatwave one weekend, bitter wind and rain the next.

 

Both their teams got soundly thrashed, and Climber came close to dropping his bundle as goalie against a particularly ruthless and efficient team.  He felt better next game when he played defender, but owing to his fragile self-confidence, he let one tough game in goal overpower a whole season of good goalkeeping last year, and declared as we left the ground that he was no good as a goalkeeper. This is our year of trying to help him with his self-confidence.  My approach at the moment is to stamp down hard on negative self talk, and we'll see where that leads....

 

Also, I've been to Craft Camp!  It was super.  Of course it was; lovely companions, fine food and bonus, an air-conditioned environment and an outside temperature a good 4 degrees cooler than heatwave-stricken Melbourne on that weekend.  For the first time ever at Craft Camp I made something for Mister Fixit, who surely deserves a bit of handmade love for being so encouraging of giving me time away.  So I made him, as a surprise, but based on conversations where he'd said he wanted one, a Hawaiian shirt.  A really, really bright, lairy Hawaiian shirt!  And actually a little too big, but it's the sort of style to be worn a bit oversized so it totally doesn't matter. I had some very good help with the collar, thank you, my crafting sisters.  I think it looks like the real thing.

 

I also had time to run up a purple corduroy frock for winter, which came up very nicely.



 I love Craft Camp.

The Dreamer and the Go-getter.

High school, tap starting back, hot weather. They're my excuses.

My physical energy has been sapped by the resumption of teaching tap, after 7 weeks of rest, and 14 straight days of temperatures over 30 degrees. Here is what that does to you...
 
 Hot cat.

As for my mental (and occasionally my emotional) energy, well that is being sucked dry by high school, high school, high school. If I haven't been trying to find large sums of money for all the stuff needed (books, uniform, the ipad, the apps for the ipad, music fees, I've lost track of all the other stuff but believe me, coming up with that amount of money in my non-earning period was a challenge! If you have a Grade 6 child, start saving up now!!), then I've been trying to help my stressed-out boy become an organised and focused person. This is not, repeat not, his natural state. (In our mothers group, all the firstborns are dreamers and all the second-borns are focused, it keeps Jen, Astrid and me very amused) That being the case, I am enormously proud of how well Climber is doing. It doesn't come naturally to him, but he is trying so hard, and mostly succeeding. The main thing is, he is approaching it with a great attitude. But the sheer volume of things he needs to remember means that, inevitably, he has the occasional lapse. Last Friday he rode the whole way to school before realising he'd forgotten to wear his bike helmet. (Bike helmets are compulsory in Melbourne. His panicked text message to me read I dont have a helmet. Help me.) And today I had to quickly run his flute and music book to school after receiving another urgent message from him. I think he misread his schedule, and of course today was the day I merely said get your bag packed and didn't actually stand with him to check his progress. Ah well, live and learn.

Meanwhile, his little brother has been putting his natural focus and drive to good effect. A week or so ago, he announced he wanted to go to school dressed up as Michael Jackson. This, we thought, was because his class are to perform [Michael Jackson's song] Thriller at the Grade 4 Concert, and to that end they'd been watching MJ videos for inspiration, and Cherub, as he is wont to do, had developed an official obsession (his words) with the single-gloved one. What Cherub was keeping under his white fedora was that the drama teacher had said he was going to select someone from the class to play the role of Michael Jackson in the performance. 



I'll have you know that Cherub's efficient and targeted campaign was wholly successful, and it was a highly excited small boy who bounded out of school to greet me with the good news that he'd been picked to play Michael Jackson.

He also attended his first ever swimming carnival and came home with an unexpected ribbon! Third place in breaststroke!



It's good to be the Cherub.