Lest We Forget

We spent the morning at the ANZAC day march in the city. I should have taken my sunglasses because I see those men and women - I feel overwhelmed and get very wet eyes. 


We caught the train in and caught the train home with the smell of rosemary with us the whole day. 

Today I thought of my grandfather, Gramps. Of my dad's uncle who died at Gallipoli. And Frank who I sometimes walk with in the mornings, who often tells me about shipping over to Singapore as a 17 year old, and returning two weeks later to find everyone had died. 


Those young boys who fought so bravely - I can't even imagine the horror. 

this is Gramps with my grandmother, Mars. 

I spent the afternoon baking ANZAC biscuits - that I stuck together with caramel (thank you Donna Hay), and then I spent a blissful two hours in the garden. 


Lest we forget. 

Our Weekend

I drove up to my Mum and Dad's place on Thursday. Just the smalls and myself.

It's only a four and a half hour drive, but I was so tired. I drank two coffees, one cup of tea, and a medium post-mix Coke. Ordinarily I only have one caffeinated drink a day. But I was so weary.

We celebrated our beloved Grandmother's life. We cried. We laughed. We caught up with relatives that we had not seen in too long.

I hated leaving today. I would have liked to have stayed up there longer, but life continues. I always find that such a hard thing to deal with when grieving. Why is everyone oblivious to the waves of grief? You know that feeling? You just want a stand-still, out of respect.

And the drive home was long. The Doctor kept talking for most of it. Tiny screamed for part of it.

I am quietly exhausted. I think I have car-lag. Curled up on the couch thinking about my family. Glad to have had that time to remember some beautiful memories and remember and rejoice in a wonderful and inspiring life.

Mother's Day & Mars

I feel incredibly blessed to have had such a beautiful grandmother as Mars.

Generous, loving, warm, affectionate, nurturing, talented Mars. She loved being hugged, holding hands, listening, gardening, painting, crafting, cooking, loving.

Yesterday our beloved Mars went to sleep for eternity. I take comfort that she'll be with our Gramps, reunited, on a perfect blue sky Autumn day.

I think of her today, I'm grateful for all the riches she brought to our family - her generous spirit, her love, everything.

Happy Mother's day mamas. I hope everyone has someone as wonderful as Marsy in their lives. And a special happy Mother's Day to my own Mum.

ANZAC Day

This morning we woke to Tiny tantying in bed. So the Doctor and I hot-footed it out of the house as quickly as we could, plucking some rosemary on the way, and headed down to our local ANZAC Day service.

The above photos of are of my grandfather, Gramps.

I don't remember Gramps talking an awful lot about war. He fought in Papua New Guinea. I do remember seeing that thick almost scratchy wool uniform though.

The top photograph is Gramps with my grandmother. A couple ever-devoted to one another, and I must say, theirs is a pure and undying love.

Gramps once stitched up a large cut (on his hand Mum?) with fishing wire.

Gramps had such a sweet tooth. He always brought us jelly rats when they came to visit, and their car always had sweeties strewn through it!

He made a fantastic baked cheesecake.

He would always pull his socks up and wear sock garters, much to my mortification as a teenager.

When we were little he'd let us drive the car through the paddock. I was the smallest, so I sat on his knee and steered while he worked the pedals.

Gramps loved Days of Our Lives. Turned up really rather loud.

He would always do all of the washing up.

Lest we forget.

Ends

Yesterday was the Doctor's end of year Christmas concert/sing-a-long at pre-school. I signed up to bake cupcakes, foolishly so, why did I commit to making so many cupcakes so early in the morning. I know better next year (just jokes, I love making and baking cupcakes, a little patty pan of joy in each one).

In the lead up to the concert the Doctor had very animatedly demonstrated his moves. The lyrics. It was big stylie exciting in our house. I was excited, and also feeling a bit sad. I still can't quite pinpoint it, but I felt that stinging of tears whenever I thought of it.

Is it because my big boy was finishing his first year of pre-school?

I don't know, but yesterday was so exciting for him. Three of his grandparents came to watch him, along with Matt, Tiny and I. There was standing room only. It was a sell out.

On another front, my Mum was a little shocked to see Tiny wearing an outfit she had made for her. It's pictured above. My Mum said 'But it's pyjamas!' Trust me Mum, too pretty for PJs, all that work is too pretty to be hidden in the darkness. Plus, Tiny digs the whole ensemble, she doesn't want to take it off!

The Gentle Art Of Quiet Stitching

Lately I've been enjoying stitching. I'm still stitching my sister's belated birthday present, because each time I get to feeling almost finished, I decide to embellish it further. This could continue for a while, however the more stitches the pillowcase collects, the firmer the fabric becomes and she may well feel like she's sleeping on a piece of cardboard. So I will stop soon.

But stitching provides me with such a nice rhythmic, solo pursuit.

As a mother it's rare these days that I get to do anything solo. So stitching is usually left to bed time, when I pore over my colours, selecting them with care, and then stitching. Sometimes I colour match incorrectly and spend the next evening carefully unpicking, but it's all part of it. And the truth is, sometimes those imperfections are part of the beauty of stitching.

My grandmother is an incredible stitcher. Sadly, she's almost blind, however I know each of my sisters and I cherish anything that has been hand-stitched by our Marsy. I constantly seek inspiration from her embroidery and can spend many minutes looking with amazement at her incredibly tiny stitches. I have this towel that she must have given to me at least ten years ago, which I've never used because it's too special. I know she'd want me to use it, but look at the work, no way Jose!
Who's your inspiration?

Fascinated? We're Whipping It!

Happy Melbourne Cup punters!

I used to ring my grandmother and put on my very best Shane Dye impersonation. She loved it. Because I am exceptionally talented at doing impersonations (and would like to give Michael Winslow a run for his money). Ok. Just Shane Dye, that's the extent of my impersonations. It's not like if MENSA had a division for voice impersonations I would be in. It's just that my Shane Dye is insurpassable.

So while we're sans fascinator, we are whipping it, but without the crop. We're going old schoolie whipping. It's 38 degrees. Eek. Hawt.

If you ever meet me in person, ask me to do Shane Dye. Then give me a bottle of champagne. Then ask me again.

A Petal or Two For You, Petal

Five of the best from our garden. Matt's grandfather was a mad keen camellia enthusiast. Winter time is as though the garden is alight with pinks, whites and fuschias of petals furiously unfurling in colour. It's tough to choose a favourite. So I choose them all.

This post is for Tania, who I seem to gross out all the time. Big camellia lovin' to you lady!

Good Intentions

These days, my hours are full of good intentions. I make lists of things I need to tick off. I get some done, I tick some off, and some sit for the next day, or the next. Or sometimes they stay on there for weeks.

I lose time doing things that just eat time. Hanging the washing out. Sitting down for a session of puzzles. Chasing a wandering baby. Good intentions.

Lately I've been thinking about my grandmother a lot. There's a house I like walking past in our neighbourhood. It reminds me of her house. A bounty of fat roses. And my goodness, you wouldn't believe the beautiful delicacy of these roses. The Doctor and I breathe in their sweetness. It takes me back to when I was small. And I miss her. I remember when we were small and she'd ask us to empty the tea leaves onto her beloved roses. I miss her.

It's like my brain switches off - and I think - yeah I'd like to ring Nonny and chat with her. And then I remember I can't. So I switch back to when I could chat with her.

I remember one conversation in particular - I was studying at uni and had an assignment on sati. I was, as usual, winging it with my lastminute.com assignment, and had no idea what I was going to write my essay about. Lo and behold, my grandmother had a wealth of knowledge. And when I say wealth, she was like a vault - but she was willing to share. She chatted to me about everything she knew about sati, and after that conversation I went away feeling more confident I could do it. She had a knack for that.

She loved words. She loved roses. She loved tea. And she was wickedly good at cryptic crosswords. I remember being small and when my parents went out, Nonny and Patty used to babysit me. We'd sit up on Friday nights and watch the proms on ABC. Does anyone else remember those? Afterwards I'd go to bed in the guest room, snuggled under a pink silk feather duvet, listening to the TV.

But my most favourite latest memory of her is of her and the Doctor. He'd lie on her bed. I know he can't remember her. But I will always remember what joy she had for her great-grandchildren.

Thankfully my house is blissfully disorganised. From time to time I find birthday cards, or Christmas cards strewn around in different places. Hidden in tea cups. In the ribbon cupboard. Next to my bed. I love opening them up and finding her familiar handwriting.

I know these photos are crazy bad. Taken in half-light, half-rush; but the thing is, this garden's lush and blooming with my memories. I can't go past without taking a deep inhale of these roses.

And with good intentions, I'm going to say it out loud. I'd like to start my own rose garden.

A Problem As Old As Time Itself

Would you believe, my camera batteries ran out in the middle of the party? Hmph. Big, fat, HMPH! It is dear friends, a problem older than time itself. No wonder there's no photos of dinosaurs, they always were running out of batteries themselves.

However, I have managed to snaffle just four frames from my camera before it decided it was outtie.

My Mum and Dad came as King of the Jungle (a funny little lion) and Queen of the Hive (a fab bumblebee). So cute. And it was a surprise, not even the bigs knew about it, so big and small were all surprised when they buzzed and roared in. This is what memories are made of. My Mum and Dad are super good!

The Doctor had an ace time. I searched high and low for a tiger costume for him, to no avail. We then downgraded to looking for a tiger, but only came up with adult versions (hello, hole in the market??), so I made him his very own tiger tail. Photo will come later as no photos available. Double hmph.

I think we're all still recovering from the party. I certainly am. But it was a wonderful, fun and memorable weekend for all the right reasons. And the smalls had super fun.

Oh and here's the cake we finally settled on. A dinosaur attacking a train. Super.

Blogger - please stop flipping my photos around. Tres annoying.

Magical March: Day 30

Today is particularly magical. Want to know why? Because - I finally finished the top I started stitching three months ago. I'll wait a moment while you pick yourself up off the floor from the shock.

Tick.

Tick.

Tock.

Incredible. I know. I even thought about listing it on eBay as a project for those who like only to do half projects. You know, they could do the end half, and as a result have a new top (rather than start a new top and never finish it).

I have plenty more great ideas where that came from.

Like why don't doonas have clips inside them to clip onto the doona cover so that they don't all crumple up? I always wind up with the bit of the doona cover without the actual doona.

I should possibly become an entrepreneur. Although I don't know what that would entail.

So tomorrow, I will come bearing gifts. A photo of me, PottyMouthMama in my top. Roll up, roll up, you will be amazed. You will be astounded.

In the meantime, be astounded by my Mum's super tidying effort in organising my collection of vintage cups and plates. That woman is a genius. (She also tidied our house - I can very obviously now see we have a floor - who woulda thunk it?)
My parents were visiting on the weekend which was super great. The Doctor was ridiculously excited (heck so was I!), and Tiny scored loads of cuddles.

So. I Am Back.

We're back in town after a week away. How quickly that week of holidays passed and tomorrow we're back into the grind. Ho-hum. We had a magical Christmas, the first where the Doctor really understood what was going on. The burning excitement. I remember it well. Can't sleep. Butterflies. The Doctor was sure he heard Santa whirring through the sky. Perhaps it wasn't a helicopter, maybe it was the fat man himself in a hotted up sleigh.

We had a wonderful time with my parents. I didn't want to leave. But when we did finally have to leave, we left with more than a handful of wonderful memories.

- a frivolous and very fun water fight punctuated with hearty laughter

- eating waaaay too much beautiful food

- going in search of Christmas lights with a very animated three and a half year old chattering away wearing reindeer antlers

- a baby who smiled the whole way through the festivities

- doting grandparents who cuddled, snuggled, loved and laughed

- ice cream

- a red swing in the grapevine

- a fast red tricycle Santa kindly left for the Doctor

- the naughty reindeer eating all the food and knocking over the water bucket on their way out

- a great-grandmother wearing a pale pink paper crown

Christmas. You just can't beat it, can you?

So Long Suckers!

You thought this was a post saying I was ending it here, didn't you? That I was going to say I was hanging up my mouse, logging off, never to be heard of again. You did, didn't you?

Well I fooled you all. Aren't I a trickster?

Today I found these great organic lollipops (hence the sucker title - get it, get it?)... And this post was going to be all about them. And then I thought, no I'll post about the tug o' war I have been stuck in this week, and I thought, I'll do some natty kind of segue into a grecian/rope style dress that I like.. But then I googled rope dress - and well, you'll never believe where I wound up - at a bondage website. I quickly skidaddled out of there, and decided that tug o' war was not what I was writing about today.

Instead, I am writing about 'memory making'. I've been thinking a lot about first memories, collecting memories, and memory making opportunities.

Some of my happiest memories from my childhood are playing at my grandparents property and building tee-pee style cubby houses out of large sticks and old branches, in my mind they were impressive. We laid rocks out as a sort of fireplace. We'd have two or three of these stick tee-pee constructions in this little valley near a tiny creek. My sisters I am sure could expand on this, but for me, it was magical. We'd check out what was in the creek, and just the building of the tee-pees was high on the fun stakes. Sometimes when we came back the next morning to check on them the horses had knocked them over. But rebuilding them was part of the charm too.

Another memory is driving around on my grandfather Gramps' knee through a paddock. I must have been about three or four, but I remember feeling such glee at being given the opportunity to 'drive'. I was the youngest, so all the older kids really did get to drive while Gramps sat next to them, but for me to just feel included was a beautiful thing, driving over bumps through the yellow grass - mmmm.

I have so many great memories of growing up. I've been thinking, what makes a memory? What makes your brain hang on to that memory, and every now and then why does your memory bring you back to those places?

This week we've been enjoying the leaf boat races down the creek. Our three and a bit year old has been taking us back to it time and time again (we've been every day since Sunday). I admit, I enjoy it too, and I can see the joy he gets from it too. It's so great to have those opportunities to tap into your inner child.

But what other memories is he going to take with him? Me on the computer trying to get work done double-smart so I can do something else? Me being cranky and tired telling him to stop asking me to play trains? I don't want to be remembered like that.

I'd like to think he'll remember our crazy music sessions, when we turn up the music loud, he drags his music box out and we grab any old instrument and make a great racket. Or baking biscuits and cakes together, while he constantly asks to eat a 'sample' (which turns into half the mix), and watches the Kitchenaid turn 'round and 'round.

Or our impromptu rumble sessions in the mornings on our unmade bed. Or even matching the socks for me while I fold the washing..

My mind keeps coming back to this quote that I found ages ago on someone's blog (I'd credit them if I could) - I can't remember it exactly but it went something like this: 'For those first early years, all your child wants/craves is your attention, but as they grow older the tables turn and we wind up desperate for their attention.' It's so true, and childhood is such a fleeting time, I'd like to make this time as memorable as possible.

So now I'm searching for memory making ideas. Anyone got any ideas to share? Tell me what a memory making moment is for you.

- As an aside - to follow up with Monday's post about buying a lottery ticket - well, it seems that the Universe didn't answer that request. Or at least, maybe me putting it out there only extends to second-hand and found objects, and not cold, hard cash. I didn't win a penny. Not a single one. Therends my idea that my luck was never-ending. Hmph! So our search for a non-mouldy rental house continues. Bah humbug.

PS - My formatting has gone again. Thanks Blogger.

This Is...

My most treasured childhood posession.. Which really isn't a posession at all - it's my memories.

Growing up in a small town I am sure it was fuel for vivid imaginations.

This is me in our chook food bin. I must be about three or four. I got in there of my own accord. I remember my sisters and their friends climbing up on the fence, which was covered in ivy (I think) - I think I was too small to get up there. I remember feeding the chickens. My Mum and Dad tell me how enthusiastically I showed them the duck I had picked up - by the neck (and subsequently killed in my gusto). Jumping into swimming pools when I couldn't swim - not once, but twice and needing to be pulled out by my Mum (sorry Mum, the water looked so good). Standing on nails in bare feet. Ouch. Treading on a bee in bare feet and Mum whisking me up and popping me on the washing machine so she could get the sting out. Dad and I wearing our matching velour tracksuits. Our cats. I had such fun. Hiding in bushes. Riding bikes down the driveway. Following my sisters around, everywhere. Mixed lollies from the BP station. Eating Sao biscuits with plastic cheese on hot summer days with my best friend James.

Rose petal stamps with my grandmother Nonny. Standing on the stools in their kitchen, making cupcakes (that love started early), and Nonny letting me add strawberry flavouring - to this day I still remember them being the sweetest best tasting morsels ever. A pink silk feather duvet. Watching the proms on ABC with Nonny and Patty on Friday nights and eating fish and chips. Patting Chordy the cranky cat. The crepe myrtle that I still daydream about. Hanging washing on the line, with the scent of wisteria blowing over. Throwing tea on the rose bushes. Ranunculus, petunias, sweet, sweet peas - lines of them in the front garden. Patty looking over the top of his glasses at me, long neck of DA covered with a handkerchief.

And visiting our other grandparents on their property. Making the best cubbyhouses out of sticks - I still feel excited when I think of those. Driving on my grandfathers lap through the paddocks. Making Soda Streams when it was hot. Or just because. Limits biscuits (remember those??!). Daxie the sausage dog, loved him. 'Washing' my singlet in the toilet when I was three or four - goodbye singlet. The smell of the oven. Mars' memorable cakes - be still my beating heart! Beautiful handmade full-to-the-hilt-with-love gifts. Days of Our Lives and Young & The Restless.

I had such a beautiful childhood and I hope that when my children are older they can look back and have such vivid, exciting and happy memories.

Thanks to Teacups on Treetops for this lovely walk down memory lane, and thanks to Angela at Three Buttons for hosting This Is.