Romper Stomper

Cherub's Grade 3 concert is next week, and the drama teacher decided she wanted Cherub's class to be dressed in rompers.  Easy enough for 8 year old girls, completely impossible for 8 year old boys.  Not only are there none for sale new or in op-shops, you can't even find a sewing pattern for them. 

Cue Romper Stomper to the rescue. Drafted a pattern, knocked some up for Cherub. 

 

Easy-peasy, as it turned out. 



So in a fit of community spirit I sent out an email to the rest of the class, saying if people wanted me to make a pair for their sons, I'd do it if they gave me the fabric.  Nine other parents gratefully accepted the offer.  Most of them managed to provide me with fabric too.

Guess what I've been doing in all my spare time, and what I'll be doing all day Sunday?  (three down, 6 to go...)



(I also made this frock, which I think is the best thing I've ever sewn, although it's a bit hard to tell from this lousy self-portrait.)



I don't know who decided 8year old boys couldn't wear rompers, I think they're all going to look completely adorable in them!



PS. My house looks like the wreck of the Hesperus (isn't that a fantastic saying?) and is likely to remain so until the rompers are finished.  We stage mothers have our priorities, you know.

The Cure

Diagnosis: The Patient presented as run-down and stressed, with the following symptoms : low energy, uncertain temper, bad skin, lank hair, sore back.

Prescribed Treatment: A weekend away with some carefully chosen companions.



 Essential:

• Companions must all be funny, kind, thoughtful, good at sharing and talking/listening, fine cooks with a modicum (or more) of crafting skills. 
• Accommodation should be equipped with a large crafting room, a luxurious bath, proximity to local massage facilities, plenty of delicious treats and lovely views.

Result: Patient has returned to her life in Melbourne feeling relaxed, revived and restored to full good humour. She has also managed to come home with a finished object.  NB. Although everyone else was very productive, one finished object was held to be plenty in this case because:
(a) Patient is a slow sew-er [that is really hard for me to say and always comes out sew slower]
(b) Patient was trying a new pattern [Cordelia from the latest Ottobre but made into a top due to lack of fabric, and millions of thanks to Sue for coaching me through pattern-speak] 
(c) Patient kept disappearing to have baths, massages or to make the white chocolate cheesecake.


 (The top is properly finished now, the patient sewed the buttons on at her kids' swimming lesson.)

Thanks and love to the fabulous girls who made it such a blissful retreat : Jenny, Iona, Kate, Sue and organisers extraordinaire Suse and Janet.  More photos here.

Where Have All The Bath Bombs Gone?

Did you know that nobody has baths anymore?  So the nice lady at the quaint pharmacy informed me when I told her how much trouble I'd been having finding something bubbly and restorative to put in my bathwater. You can buy odd-flavoured kids concoctions (banana flavour anyone? I don't think so!) or you can buy shower gel, but bath salts, bath oils, bath bombs or just plain old-fashioned girly bubble-bath seem to have disappeared from the shelves.  If you're a bath-lover like me, it's very annoying! Particularly when I am about to go for a girls' weekend at Sewjourn where there is a fabulous bathtub waiting for me.  However, the lady at the quaint pharmacy came up trumps (I'd gone there on a recommendation) and I have some muscle-relaxing juniper bubble-bath in my luggage now. Phew!

So yes, I'm off to Crarf Camp tomorrow after the morning tap classes.  I can't wait. I have only the vaguest plans for what I might craft there, but that is fine.  I shall work it out when I'm sitting at that great big work table at Sewjourn surrounded by my gorgeous Craft Camp Posse; in between the delicious meals, the relaxing bath and the massage, natch.  Because what I'm really looking forward to is the rest and revive.  The beginning of this year has been frantic for me: the change to our routine caused by Fixit's new roster (one week days, one week evenings) is still feeling very demanding to my energy levels and head space.  In particular, working out how to get Climber to & from soccer training twice a week when neither parent is home. Plus my tap school is doing very well, better than ever, and of course I am not complaining about that in the least, but it is Just Me doing it all so it takes its toll.  It is not surprising that the only two foot injuries I've ever had in my dancing career have come in the last 6 months!

Off with the tap shoes and on with the needlework, then.  At the very least I'll get more work done on my alphabet sampler. 



See you when I get back, all rested and relaxed. Cx

Tie me kangaroo down sport

One of the things I like about our school is that it doesn't have a uniform.  I know some parents say a uniform is easier, but my kids are male and easygoing and we've never once had a clothing dispute, so this argument cuts no ice with me.  It would make my life harder, I reckon. I'd have to make sure a uniform was cleaned and possibly ironed, and it would cost  money, unlike the bulk of hand-me-down clothing my kids get around in.  And I'm a bit anti-uniform on ideological grounds too; uniforms seem to me repressive tools of corporate branding and homogenisation.  This is obviously because I am the sort of person who expresses myself via my clothing, and usually the message I'm expressing is: I really like purple.  Fortunately the high school we're looking at for Climber has just changed their uniform from navy blue to purple, thereby making it slightly more acceptable to me.

Anyway, at our non-uniform school, it was school photo day today. In terms of appearance, I had the kids wash their hair the night before and this morning asked them to pick out a nice t-shirt.   Climber came and consulted over his choice, but Cherub knew exactly what he wanted to wear: a tie or bow-tie, because and I quote ties and bow-ties are cool.



And actually, although I absolutely hated wearing a tie at his age to school, when I look at him in his get-out, I thought he looked very cool indeed.  Apparently quite a number of kids at school were rather impressed as well.



Also, for the class photo he and his best friend were consigned to the front row of seats (neither of them are tall) but Cherub got to sit dead centre because of his tie.  I was speaking to a friend who elected to wear a tie to school photo day many years ago, and he said he got beaten up for it.  Tie-ms have changed.

Elevenses

Last year, when our little crew of Mothers Group First-Borns turned 10, Astrid, Jenny and I decided to mark the occasion and their fledgling grown-up-ness by taking them out with us for a special dinner. Then, as the months slid past us, we realised that such things really couldn't be organised in a hurry, and that we'd likely need at least a year to find a suitable night and make a booking at a restaurant ... Anyway, last night, we finally marked their 10th -and 11th!- birthdays and took them out, just the 6 of us, no dads, no siblings.



Eleven is a lovely age, and our trio of 11-year-olds were delightful company. They were pleased and excited to be going out with each other and their mums, they were mature about trying new foods (we went to a Jimmy's Greek Tavern, and they ate calamari and saganaki and octopus and gyros lamb - there's no way I could have fed that sort of dangerous food to Cherub, he is on to me and never lets me poison him), their table manners were good, their conversation was fun and funny, and because they are so very mature now, there was no whingeing, bickering, fighting or toy-stealing.  Jen, Astrid and I were very well-behaved too.  We always enjoy each others' company.



We went out on Day 3 of the heatwave, not realising that the restaurant had no air-conditioning, (it actually wasn't too bad except for sweaty knees) so it was decided that although we'd polished off the mixed dessert plate (mmm, baklava!) we still needed a little more, and drove over to Gelobar for some massive icecreams that we ate as the storm rolled in.  Actually, all three of them were defeated by their towering 3-flavour gelati and some Brunswick possums may have been left a little birthday treat. It was a very nice night indeed.

But just to prove they're only halfway to being all growed up yet, here is the funny-face photo they insisted needed to be taken.



You've come a long way, babies ... or have you?

Organised.

The tall son (pictured here with his haul from the Swimming Carnival yesterday: a [close!] 3rd for backstroke, a [close] 4th for breaststroke and a well-done or 5th for butterfly) has gone off to Grade 5/6 Camp until Friday. I hope he has a great time.  He was feeling reasonably confident about this - in previous years he enjoyed the camp activities but disliked the general off-the-leash craziness from the other kids, particularly at bedtime. Climber is a child who needs his sleep.  But this year he is in a cabin with boys he says he can stand up to if they give him a hard time. The confidence of being a Grade 6, it's a good thing.



So just me and the small son tonight. Rattling round the house together. He has popped out of bed once already to tell me that he can't get to sleep, because he has no brother to talk to.  Aw.



Mister Fixit, meanwhile, is off at work, under his new regime of doing one week day-shift and one week evenings.  I have to tell you that, actually and unexpectedly, this is far more onerous for me than it is for him.  He gets to potter round in the daytime every second week, plus organise the odd  business-hours type stuff that he never usually gets time for, like motorbike-boot repairs.  He enjoys leisurely coffees after school drop-off.  He can take big walks so that his fitness improves.  I rather think he likes it. Meanwhile I now have to do the cooking and the washing up on those weeks, do all the babysitter organising so that the kids are cared for while I work my job 3 nights a week, plus tie myself in knots trying to fulfil their after-school sports commitments, some of which happen while I'm at work.  And this on top of organising everything else that happens in this family like grocery and washing and tidying and school admin and bills and everything, not to mention keeping on top of my tap school business! Oh sorry, did I just rant at you?  Maybe I am a touch sore because Fixit accused me on Saturday morning of NOT BEING ORGANISED; because despite directing operations so that the kids were dressed and fed, the lunches were made, the sports gear & my tap stuff assembled, while all he did was go to the chiropractor and eat breakfast, I didn't quite allow enough time to buy coffee en route and asked him if he'd get me one in the hour he had to spare before cricket. Geez, soooooo unorganised. And just quietly, it's not as much help having him there on school mornings as he might think.  I already have that routine down pat, so him bellowing secondary chivvies at the kids is just annoying really.  My primary chivvies are quite sufficient and effective, no need for an echo. Still, it's a period of adjustment.  Once I get it all together and stop having to organise everything all the time, I might relax.  We did go and see a movie together, and that was fun.



Meanwhile, you'll be pleased to know that the expensive cat repairs have totally paid off. Basil and Fixit, working as a team, caught a mouse we found sunning itself on the loungeroom windowsill.  Basil was mostly in charge of small space retrieval, Fixit was in charge of hefting wall units around and whacking the mouse unconscious with a heavy ornamental glass plate.  My sister was in charge of action photography and no-one was in charge of dusting behind the wall unit.

Qualified.

Seriously need to catch up on this here blog, and I definitely will, because my life is almost in control with all that back-to-school and tap rigmarole, but just quickly LOOK, LOOK, LOOK!



Mister Fixit is qualified!  We're still to negotiate the job and pay side of it all, but there's his certificate right there in his qualified mechanical engineer hand!  I am completely proud of him.  (And I made him ring his Mum!)