Bronze and Gold

Gymnastics Competition!!!

Both boys were excited, and a little bit nervous, seeing as it was their first time.  In fact, Cherub, whose competition ran first, looked a little bit ill as he sat with his Level 2 team-mates waiting to start, although allegedly this was partly caused by Fixit's neck-or-nothing get-me-to-the-gym-on-time driving.



Cherub has been doing gymnastics for less time than Climber, and whilst he enjoys it, he has not perhaps found it as easy or approached it with the same passion as his older brother.  I was therefore very proud of his efforts on all the equipment.  He was actually pretty competent, and I suspect if he had a bit more competition nous, he would have scored better for those things they look at: sticking when you land a jump, pointing toes, straightening legs, extending through the whole body, remembering to 'present' at the beginning and end of every routine. It's a bit like watching him at tap-dancing - he's perfectly capable of doing the steps really well but he often goes the low-key casual approach and doesn't cross ts or dot is.



He was awarded the basic participation medal - a bronze - and looked a bit crestfallen.  He had been dreaming of some silver or gold.  However, he was feeling okay about his performance, as well he should. I was very impressed with him, and with how much he's improved since I last watched him.



We went home for a couple of hours and then returned to the venue for Climber and the Level 3 competition.

Climber also complained of feeling sick before the comp started, despite my excellent chauffeuring. Butterflies.  However, he was extremely composed as he went about his various routines, and seemed to my untrained eye to be doing a very good job, both in abilities and composure.  He did what he had to do neatly, and was meticulous in sticking and presenting.  There was a slightly older boy on his team who was also very impressive in his abilities and composure, and I think set a very good example to Climber and the rest of his team-mates.



At the end of the comp came the presentation.  Each team coach grabs the appropriate medals for their team, so ours walked over with 2 gold, 2 silvers and a bronze.  Of course all the kids were watching with eagle eyes and trying to work out which of the medals belonged to whom.  Both Climber and the older boy received gold medals, much to their delight.



Then came the individual presentation for the top three scorers.  The older boy from our team took first place, then a girl from another club received silver and then blow-me-down-with-a feather, they called Climber's name for third!  We were so surprised and proud and happy that I forgot to photograph that part of the presentation, but it soon dawned on us that with 2 of the highest scorers on our team there was a good chance our team might have done well in the team placings .... Yes indeed! First place!  Another gold for Climber, and the older boy was dubbed the Usain Bolt of the night with his three golds! Climber was shining with pride and happiness and success beyond his wildest dreams.



We were feeling incredibly proud and happy for Climber, but by that stage poor Cherub had begun to feel more and more let down about his bronze medal and became inconsolable.  Luckily both Fixit and I were there so we took it in turns to congratulate one son and comfort the other.  And their coaches came over and told Cherub how well he'd done too.   In the end, after all the celebrations, I drove Cherub home in my car while Fixit and Climber went off to get fish and chips, and I used that reliable assuager of broken hearts, a bar of chocolate, to restore some equanimity.

The next morning, the despair and the glory were still very much apparent. Fixit and I were awoken by a sad Cherub at our bedside saying tearfully I'm still really sad about my medal. Half an hour later, we heard Climber before we saw him, as he entered the kitchen, wearing his pyjamas and his three medals, which clanked proudly and splendidly round his neck.  We talked more comfort and sense into Cherub and he took his medal to show-and-tell at school where it was much admired. I think we're all good now.  And there's always next time.  Meanwhile, my Climber is having the best week of his life. Soccer star one weekend, gym star the next, and his long-standing obsession with the monkeybars paid off in full!

Super Saver

Climber's soccer team were up against the Number One team on the weekend, the team who had won every game this season, the team that trounced us 9-1 last time we met. Climber's coach, a man with greyhound-like fitness and a single focus in his life (soccer), had been talking up this rematch for weeks. I don't care what youse do as long as you beat Forknah. At training on Thursday night he declared he'd give the boys fifty bucks each if they won. The man has no money, so this is how desperately he felt about it; Forknah is his arch-rival from long ago. The boys' faces lit up with dreams of untold wealth. He also told them they all had to pay him $10 if they lost. The boys looked uneasy.  The parents looked sceptical.

With all this build-up, the emotional stakes were high when we arrived at the ground on Sunday morning. The boys were fired up, and chattering like mad in the change-rooms.  The parents were all  extra tense too, as we gathered on the sidelines, coffees in hand, to cheer the boys on.

The whistle blew, the game began.  Forknah went on the attack immediately, fast and sure. They fired their first shot at goal and my-son-the-Goalie gathered it up safely and sent it back up the field with a great big kick.  And our team took off with ball, passing, looking up, and going into determined counter-attack.  And that was pretty much how the whole game played out.  Time and again, Forknah came thundering down into our half, only to be thwarted by another, often spectacular save from Climber, and to be rattled again by the way our team was playing.  It wasn't that we were better than them exactly, but they hadn't expected this, and they couldn't break through.  At half-time the score was nil-all, and Forknah's coach roared at his team to come in for the briefing.  Our coach was calm, this was the game he'd planned.  Keep at it boys, you hear that? You've got them rattled!

In the second half we scored a goal and there was cheering and jubilation from our little band of parents, as a welcome antidote to the nail-biting that had been going on for most of the match.  Forknah couldn't believe it.  They equalised about 10 minutes later, of course they did, they are a very good  team. Both goals scored were good goals, not disappointing goals scored because of a mistake in defense but honest, well-played goals.  We groaned on our side; for a minute, victory had seemed possible, but then we remembered our sportspersonship and politely applauded the goal. And then we waited out the remaining 10 hours minutes of the game. But Climber kept on saving, the defense kept on defending with everything they had, and miraculously the final whistle blew.  A one-all draw, Forknah's winning streak over, and praise from left, right and centre for the amazing work done by Climber.  Man of the Match! shouted several of the parents and one particularly passionate parent whose own son had done a fantastic job in defense and kept a last-minute shot from going in, said to me give Climber biscuits tonight, all that he wants, anything he wants!  I'll pay! The coach from the other team came over and shook Climber's hand and said to him You killed us! Players from Forknah told him he should be playing goalie for the state team.  Our coach, grinning from ear to ear, rubbed Climber affectionately on the head and said Man of the Match! too, although we don't actually officially make any awards post-game.  Everyone took the time to congratulate Climber on the way he'd played. He was beaming with happiness.

It was very nice for Climber to have his moment in the sun, to receive well-earned praise for his performance that day.  He looked so happy, and carried his pride round with him all day like a warm bundle of happiness in his chest.  Fixit and I were unstinting in our praise, and incredibly proud too. Climber is a bit of a quiet achiever in most of his life, doing well but not flamboyantly so. A day of glory for him like this was just wonderful to behold.

Opening Ceremony

My boys set an alarm and got themselves up to watch the Opening Ceremony of the London Olympic Games. They are the perfect age for the Olympics now, old enough to understand, young enough to dream and aspire. Although, the Cherub was feeling a bit misled over "the Olympics" in that he got up early to see "The Olympics" and the Opening Ceremony kept not delivering any sport to him.  But apart from minor misunderstandings, they are enjoying the whole Olympic spirit wholeheartedly. The pool they attend for swimming lessons is running an Olympic-themed giveaway and both boys are completing the list of activities (word-searches, colouring in etc) with enthusiasm. It's very nice, a palliative to the things about the Olympics which are annoying, particularly the one-eyed jingoistic television coverage we get here.

I watched the opening Ceremony at the more civilised hour of 2pm after a morning spent tapping with the Kiddy Classes. My favourite bit was Rowan Atkinson's cameo, playing a single note on a synthesiser in a musical performance of Vangelis' Chariots of Fire theme. The individual petals becoming the Olympic Flame was lovely too, as was the nod to the NHS featuring JK Rowling, who read the excerpt from Peter Pan very well I thought.

Watching the faces of the many volunteers who drummed, or danced or played nurses, rustics, miners, suffragettes etc, brought back to me my own experience in an Opening Ceremony. In 2006, I was one of the volunteer dancers for the Melbourne Commonwealth Games. Looking back, I think it was a fantastic opening ceremony; featuring giant puppets, aerial trapeze stunts, a gorgeous Aboriginal sequence, motorbike riders with exploding jet packs, iconic Australian rockband The Church singing a reworked version of their beautiful song Under The Milky Way, and, of course, a flying tram. I was in the very start of the show, in the bit when the tram flew in. We were all huddled underneath the MCG, hearing the countdown of all the cities who had hosted the Games before us being chanted by the crowd, then the hush and magic of the winged W-class tram as it flew from the roof to the centre of the stage. Lots of people had tipped the flying tram, but actually when it flew down it didn't matter that it had been a badly kept secret, or a slightly obvious choice.  You could feel the love in the stadium because those trams are iconic and well loved and so very Melbourne, and it was a beautiful moment.

Underneath the stage though it was all tension as the tech crew got ready to grab the tram when it landed, secure the doors and start hoisting the performers up through the trapdoor so they could pour out onto the stage, which had been lit to look like a map of Melbourne. 


This is me dressed as a "Council Worker", posing outside the MCG before the show.  We were all dressed in the red colour spectrum to represent a range of Melbourne life. There were about a million make-up volunteers down in the carparks with us, with plans for every character.  Some of the faces and costumes were completely flamboyant, and there was a lot of excitement as to what we'd wear.  I was mildly disappointed to tell the truth, (fluoro vest, pfft) but the good news about my bit was that I was a "specialist" within the cast, so at a certain point in the proceedings I got to break out from the crowd and perform my specialty (tap-dancing).  Other specialists included swing-dancers, contortionists, acrobatics, juggling etc.

Two girls in my group were fairy penguins, but I can barely remember the other characters. I think there were netball teams, canteen ladies, Ladies Who Lunched... it's all a blur now.  In this dress rehearsal shot you can see my group, Slot 3.  I'm on the left, 2nd row, when they were still planning to have us in crazy fluorescent wigs.  We didn't come out of the tram, but we were next to those who did so could see what went on.


Other highlights of the night were performing the national anthem with sign-language (I've forgotten how to do this now), seeing the queen drive past me in the Royal Rolls, and afterwards, running up a million flights of stairs to join Fixit in the gods to watch the rest of the show.  As I pelted up the steps a security guard moved into a defensive pose, ready to bring me down.  Then he saw my crazy make-up, smiled at me and waved me on.

I just had to get my photo taken with Ceremony Director Nigel Triffitt, because of his Tap Dogs credentials (directed the first show).  He was great. Humorous, personable and creative and yet somehow, he seemed always to be quite relaxed in the middle of that massive production, at least in the presence of the volunteers. I was sad to hear of his sudden death this month.

When we were rehearsing the production, the people in charge said there will be lots of standing around, there will be boredom, but when your moment comes in front of that crowd, you will remember the feeling all your life.  They were right.  It was a massive thrill, a great hit of adrenaline and enormous fun.  Completely worth all those hours rehearsing in a paddock.

Back in the saddle

Hello Blog, so neglected that even Mister Fixit was moved to ask if I was ever going to update you again.  Well, yes, now that school holidays are over, now that I have the house to myself (Mister Fixit is working day-shift this week), now that the housework and laundry are mostly in control, now that the mountain of adminny, emaily stuff I had to do for tap and soccer is done, done, done!... yes, yes I will update.  Let me tell you some of what has happened in the 5-or-so weeks (yikes!) since we spoke.



There was a craft camp at Sewjourn with fabulous friends: Suse, Janet, Jenny, Sue, Kate, Amelia, Magda. It was excellent as usual and I made a very nice corduroy dress which I'm exceptionally proud of, some lovely new bunting for my Tap Hall and some pants for the boys.  The best thing about it was having the full four days; I achieved a satisfying amount, I relaxed an extraordinary amount, I ate like a king and slept like a princess (in the princess room, the one with the big double bed!) and had a right royal good time with the girls.  When I got home, Cherub leapt on me to hug me, and didn't physically let go of me for a good hour afterwards.

There were 2 celebrations for my Mother's Significant Birthday:  a Melbourne do, hosted by my aunts, with Mum's extended family...



... (during which Fixit and I spent so much time going soppy about my cousins' various babies that I seriously asked him later if we should go and get his op reversed and see if we could make ourselves another.  Then I did the maths and worked out how old we'd be when the kid was still in high school and remembered all that lack of sleep stuff, and thought better of it.) 



... and a Sydney/ Canberra celebration, hosted by Mum (with my sister and brother and me being Number One Good Helpers.)



We all had a lovely time catching up with friends and family on both occasions.

There were some really excellent school reports and rewards for same.



Notice Climber's haircut?  Sculpted, not shaggy now.  He's been shaggy for so long that a mum from soccer, who has known Climber since he was 5, saw him playing with the new do and completely failed to recognise him, even when the coach addressed him by name.  She thought we had a new boy on the team with the same name.



There were school holidays - we didn't do a great deal, (apart from me jetting off to Sydney for a weekend) but we enjoyed the sleep-ins and a slower pace to life.  We managed some socialising with friends, a trip to see a show at The Magic Festival and an expedition to see the Wallace & Gromit exhibition at Scienceworks.  Man, Scienceworks is insanely busy on a wet day in school holidays!



There was a live rat in the bedroom, deposited there by Basil, who seems well-up on how to catch a vermin and bring it inside and less sure about what you should do with it next.  Fixit spent a very busy half hour trying to catch and destroy the rodent from behind wardrobes and under the bed, while Basil became completely freaked out and did his level best to leave the scene.  Cruelly, we locked him in to 'help' Fixit.  Finish what you start, pussycat. See him 'helping' here, sitting on the window ledge?  Not sure if it was the rat's squeaks or the way Fixit was trying to kill the rat with a big whacking stick that made Basil so insistent on exiting the bedroom.  Cherub and I watched through the windows in fascinated horror until the rat was slain. Fixit Inc, general repairs and rodent slaying.



That's all I can manage now, but more updates soon, I hope!

Queen's Birthday Weekend

I'm off to Sewjourn for a Craft Camp with some fabulous women, and I'm extra excited about this one because for a change I'll be going for the whole weekend. No Saturday tap, a whole long weekend to myself. The amount of stuff I'm taking with me is staggering. I know the kids and Fixit will be fine, but I have been slightly concerned because Fixit has been very absorbed of late with a shed project. He's been designing and building a new front faring for his old motorbike, and he completely loses track of time when he starts in on it. I have been reminding him all this week that he needs to down tools at regular intervals so that the kids are fed. Interestingly, when I tell this story, any man who hears it says Wow, he's designing a faring and building it himself?!, whereas my female listeners know the true gist of this is how unfair it is that he can go into a cone of creativity and not have his mojo interrupted by having to see to the family's needs. This is why I go to Crarf Camp really, uninterrupted mojo. But I wouldn't want you to think badly of him, he is a great partner and father. Just look at the gorgeous birthday present he gave me, an enormous print of a work by Urban Stencil artist Banksy. I love it so much.

Not as young as I used to be.

 

Conversation at the breakfast table this morning, as I opened and admired the birthday gifts the kids had given me. (Stripey purple fingerless gloves, a purple headband and some scented bathbombs).

Climber: We had to walk all around [large shopping mall] to find your presents.

Me: I didn't realise you went to [large shopping mall]! I thought you were going to [closer-by small shopping mall]. 

Climber: No we went to [large shopping mall], and had to walk all the way round it.

Me: (touched) Well.  Thank you.  I really appreciate that you went to that much effort for me.

Climber: Well, thank YOU for all the effort you always make for us.


Cherub: I hope you go to that much effort for MY birthday.

(taken this morning, he decided to dress up as Long John Silver with a bandanna and a pirate hat a'la Tim Curry in The Muppet Treasure Island)

(Taken on the weekend after a victorious soccer match)

They are two very different children...

I've been telling Cherub for the last 2 weeks that he wasn't allowed to think about his (October) birthday until after mine, clearly that only applied to up to the point of gift handover, now it's open season.

In his defense though,  Cherub bounced out of bed to cuddle me and wish me a happy birthday and had a musical toy lined up ready to beep out Happy Birthday.  Well, he thought it was lined up, it actually beeped out Camptown Races first off, but then it played Happy Birthday and Cherub sang along too.

How I fell over because of muffins.

On a Saturday morning, I teach 5 tap-classes in a row to a bunch of children, without a break.  By class 4, I'm absolutely starving!  As a way of feeding myself something quick, cheap and not junky, I whip up a dozen muffins before the first class.  Owing to the fact that my tap hall is a shared facility, I keep the dry ingredients in my lock-up cupboard but have to remember to bring the egg, butter and milk from home. It is necessary to put a couple aside at Nell's Desk (Nell likes to have one too as she sits there being my admin person, marking the roll and taking money etc) because I leave out the rest for whoever wants one, and they never last long. Generally gone by the end of the first class.



Anyway, the Saturday before last, I left the egg and butter at home and didn't realise until I'd arrived at the Tap Hall.  So in a bit of a hurry, I drove quickly to the milkbar nearby and dashed in to buy eggs and butter. She had butter, but no eggs!  I rushed out her door, wondering wildly what to do, where to go next and if I even had time, skated on a wet leaf in my treacherous non-grip dance sneakers and fell down so fast that I didn't even feel myself falling, just an incredibly hard impact.  I had to lie there for a minute in shock, catching my breath.  The lady from the milkbar rushed out to help me up, and although I was sore and shaken I could feel I hadn't really damaged anything.  I mostly landed well, taking a good bit of the impact on what they called at drama school a landmass, meaning of course the fleshy part of the body in the rump and thigh area.  (You have to be prepared for a bit of falling over at Drama School, in case you were thinking of going.)  Unfortunately I also came down on my elbow and the trauma of that went right up my arm and across my neck and shoulders and stayed there for several days, until a combination of a chiropractic treatment, a cocktail of paracetemol and anti-inflammatories, and time, settled it down again.

This is the picture I shared on facebook.  Obviously when you fall as dramatically as this, you need to tell as many people as possible, and show them your bruised elbow so they can wince at you sympathetically.

I rang up Mister Fixit in nearly-tears and said I'd fallen and hurt myself, and could he please bring the egg and butter and the boys to the Tap Hall, where Climber could make the muffins for me, and Fixit could be deputy-Nell as she was away that week.  He of course came to my rescue, and the muffins were made and I taught all my classes and told them the funny story of how Miss Caroline Fell Over.  Unfortunately, Climber didn't realise the importance of Putting Aside some muffins at Nell's Desk so he just left them all out on the kitchen bench and of course, by Class 4, aka Starvation O'Clock, they were ALL GONE.   Disaster!  So for the second time that day, Mister Fixit had to come to my rescue and hunt & gather me a muffin from a nearby cafe.  He takes good care of me, that man.



A couple of comments made to me after my fall really rang true for me. One was by Astrid, who said that falling at this time of your life is such a shock; you fall over all the time when you're a kid and we foresee tumbles in our future when we're 80-odd, but this time of life should be the non-falling years. So true! Except when you're at Drama School obviously. The other comment was from an adult tap student who remarked how you always hurt yourself much worse if you're angry, and followed it up with an anecdote of a furious bed making incident which put her in the bed with a bad back for 4 days. And we all laughed and nodded ruefully in agreement.  I most definitely was in a snit at the milkbar for having no eggs and this made me rush out of the shop at an ill-advised speed, considering the wet ground and my unsuitable shoes. So I suppose the lesson from my muffin related fall is to try  to minimise your movement when you're in a temper? Or maybe just calm down if you don't have sensible shoes.