Life

Today is The Day. Head shaving day.

Do you know how hard it is to talk a self portrait? It’s HARD. Those girls who take incessant selfies for facebook obviously have MAD SKILLS that I am missing.

In any case, today I am shaving my head. I have a few more hours of long hair left, so Evelyn needs to get all of her finger tangling and hair pulling out of the way now, before it’s GONE.

If you haven’t donated yet, I would love if you could. It’s for a good cause.

I am going to be so cold.

(And yes, Frogpondsrock will be videoing it, so you can watch me screech like a girl.)

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Tomorrow, school starts again. I am beyond relieved to be heading back to our regular routine. School holidays are lovely, but it’s very easy to let the hours bleed into one another, leaving a muddy mess of weeks that passed without anything remarkable happening, or getting done.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s been lovely to laze around the house, playing games and reading books together, but Amy needs more stimulation than I can easily provide, so yay for school.

In other news:

I’m cutting off all my hair. Yes, that’s right, shaving my head to raise money for the Leukaemia Foundation. My hair reaches the middle of my back now and it’s thick and long. Evie keeps getting her fingers tangled in it, and while it’s a little scary to be contemplating shaving it all off, I’m also looking forward to it. In a terrified kind of way.

When Nan was dying of cancer, I could appreciate the work that places like The Cancer Council and The Leukaemia Foundation do in supporting families who are walking that path.

I’d love if you could sponsor me, so that I don’t feel all lonely over there.

And I am over at The Shake today writing about Postnatal depression.

Comments are off. Click the links instead.

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One child spins madly in circles while begging to vacuum, […but there are things on the floor and I need to just vacuum them…] and the baby tries to fall asleep pressed into my heartbeat while we pace pace pace around the house. My footsteps are a backdrop to the other noises. A DVD running. A fan. The dog panting.

I pace pace pace and her eyes close slowly, but then someone wants a sandwich […with tomato and cucumber and cheese, but you have to put the cucumber on first, and then the tomato, and then a little salt, and then some cheese, but I don’t want butter and Mum, why isn’t there any square bread left? I guess you can make me a breadroll then, but I don’t want butter…] and her eyes open again, a fitting counterpoint to her mouth, which is leaking baby drool all down my arm.

Someone needs a drink […can I have cordial please? Why not? I want cordial. Okay, I’ll have milk…] and I am pace pace pacing while my heart beats a soothing refrain for a tired and grumpy child.

[…Mum, when are you going to make me my sandwich? Whoops, I mean breadroll, there isn’t any square bread, did you tell Daddy, he’ll have to buy some…]

[…I want a breadroll! But I want a honey breadroll, not tomato. I don’t want tomato, I want honey! No, I don’t want honey, can I have ham and cheese and can it be cooked please…]

I pace pace pace around the house, crooning and rocking and her eyes are closed now and I am nearly free to sit down and drink a cup of tea […Mummy, I spilled your cup of tea and it was cold and I am sorry…] and the warm weight of the baby presses into my front as she snuffles at my shoulder.

[…But where is my breadroll? And why is the carpet wet here? Mummy, did something get spilled. Oh FINE, I’ll get a cloth, but they have to help me clean it up…]

Carefully, oh so carefully I put the baby down, smoothing her cheek and kissing her gently. It’s a risk, but a minor one and it’s worth it, oh so worth it, just to kiss her while she’s sleeping. There is baby smell all over my shoulder and someone needs a breadroll and someone has spilled milk on the kitchen floor, but it’s all going to be okay. I remind myself to stop pace pace pacing around the house and I drop into a chair to breathe, to relax, to just sit for five seconds, please, just five seconds.

And someone wraps their skinny arms around my waist and someone lays their head against my knee and it’s exhausting this job, so very exhausting, but I rub their hair and breathe them in and it’s worth it. It’s oh so worth it.

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Firstly, thank you for all your emails asking if I was okay – we’re a long way from the bushfires and thus are lucky enough to not have any direct involvement in the property loss. Later, I’ll update with links to the Red Cross if you want to donate to those families affected.

***

Everyone is well. I should start with that, shouldn’t I. Christmas felt like a long slog of tantrums and too much chocolate, but we got through and from the excitement my children oozed from their every pore, I’d say that they had fun. It took Nathan and I a little longer to recover – Nathan especially. He really should try harder to not throw himself at the ground repeatedly during games of backyard cricket, especially when the summer dry grass is like razors underfoot.

Evelyn enjoyed her new toys, despite her inability to actually hold onto them. We’re working on her developing a determined hold, as opposed to the grasp reflex she has going on still. The grasp reflex is great for say, pulling out my hair, or clawing at my eyes, but not so great for putting that exciting thing into her mouth. She’s still lacking lots of developmental building blocks, but she’s happy and getting progressively more adorable which I didn’t think was actually possible.

I may be biased of course, especially due to the fact that she is sleeping right now, therefore being rather low maintenance.

It’s Summer, which makes everything nicer too. I’m a big fan of summer foods, all those tomatoes and basil and berries and just, excuse me while I drool a little over here. My greenhouse is full of rapidly growing vines (cucumber, melon, pumpkin and watermelon) and I’m hopeful that we’ll get some fruit from these by autumn. Of course, I’m having to hand pollinate the pumpkin flowers because the bees haven’t discovered them yet, but we’ll ignore the fact that I am spending a lot of time poking paintbrushes into flowers. Maybe the bees will clue themselves in soon.

[Digression: HAHAHAHA. If you were a bee, would you rather collect nectar from tasty flowering gums, or from pumpkins? Yeah, I might be paint brushing everything, forever. It’s all my own fault for planting things that flower and attract the bees.]

So, that’s me. Safe from fires, not safe from giant holes in minecraft (yes, I bought Amy minecraft. Any good tips?).

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