Making Memories:: Roadtripping with Toyota

I always remember road trips from my childhood. Those early starts when Mum and Dad roused us from our slumber to get dressed, get in the car, and leave home at 4:30am to get on the road.

I was the smallest, and therefore neatly sandwiched between my two sisters in the back seat.

Our road trips were punctuated by stops at the petrol station, a strong desire to reach our destination, and some sibling bickering.

Road trips, for me, were like the prologue and epilogue for a memorable trip away.

We were lucky to be guests of Toyota last week. On Friday we drove down to Thredbo, after Matt finished teaching, in the darkness. In the Toyota Prado we forged our way almost seven hours out of Sydney. When we arrived it was snowing heavily, something I've never seen before - and the kids were wide awake at 10:30pm, spellbound by the flurry of white snowflakes flying towards our headlights. It was their first time to see snow, and they were enchanted and ridiculously excited.

On the winding road into Thredbo we passed other cars that had had to pull over, the snow so heavy it had made it impossible for them to continue.

We finally reached our hotel, hurriedly unpacked the car out in the snow, and then went to bed. Ah bliss.

We awoke on the Saturday morning to such a beautiful and memorable sight. A thick, heavy carpet of the most pristine snow across the countryside. Banked up on our window ledge, icicles frozen in motion from the guttering, it was Narnia-esque.

We rugged up and headed off to get kitted out, then off to Friday Flats for a day of skiing delights!

The kids were booked into Thredbo Land, and Matt scurried up the hill as quick as he could to snowboard the morning away. Me? Oh poor me. I had to suck it up and spend the morning with Christoph. The hot Austrian ski instructor. I know. Poor, poor me.

Prior to this particular morning, I had been enduring great, great skiing performance anxiety. At one point I had talked myself out of it. Then back into it. Then out of it. Then back into it. I was into it, lucky for Christoph, and off we went. I had such a hoot!

In the afternoon we got back together again and went back to the hotel. It's no understatement that we were all k-to-the-nackered. We lay on our beds watching TV and recharging our batteries.

That was until we rocked up to dinner with the Toyota crew (where - I am sorry friends - I had to wear ugg boots because the size of the blisters on my shins were out of control - I know - the shame of it), where Tiny hijacked my phone and tapped into her inner food blogger and started Instagramming the dinner plates. If you follow me on Instagram you will know this to be true.

But let me go into more detail later in the week. When I can recoup my thoughts, and share the awesomeness of hitting the road and making memories as a family. Trust me - it was like soup for the soul. Snow for the soul.


Disclosure: We travelled to Thredbo courtesy of Toyota. We drove in the rugged luxury of the Toyota Prado Kakadu in the darkness and against the elements. Honesty is the best policy. We had a great time. I wanted to share.

Help Me Win a New Ford Territory For A Year and $5000

Drive. I've given this word much thought over this weekend. Drive. Tossed it around in my head, it echoed a little and then it plummeted down to where I played with it for a while. I kept going back to it.

You see, this weekend was the weekend when we were celebrating the Doctor's 6th birthday with a little party with some of his new Kindy pals.

He wanted a birthday party. I wanted to give him a party. I love the idea of 'making memories', and this weekend, I've made memories. In my freaking muscles from standing up for 12 hours straight baking. I love baking. But not for 12 hours. By myself. While looking after two smalls.

The tension crept up ever so slowly. I started the morning pretty pleased with myself. I made cookie dough. Wrapped it. Refrigerated it. Moved on to the next gig. Cupcakes. Made them. Baked them. Moved on. Birthday cake. Made the first of three. And on it goes. We rushed out to the shops to grab some bits and pieces, came back, and the tension had crept up a little higher, until it finally rested in my shoulders. Aching.

I took stock of myself on more than one occasion. What was driving me to be so batty about this birthday party? Millions of women have successfully held birthday parties. And then it hit me. It hit me just like the sifter did this morning, as it fell out of the pantry. Straight in the back of my head as I was bending down to pick something up. BOOM!

I was worried about what the other mums would think of me. The driving force behind me being more Nigella, was what would the other mums think when they drop their wee darlings off, and I feed them with all manner of sugary goodness.

The telltale sign was the guilt of the packet cake mix. I for one hate packet mixes. But the Women's Weekly told me it was 3 x Buttercake packet mixes, and this time, I was loathe to stuff up my son's birthday cake (unlike his first birthday cake - but that's another story). I dutifully baked the packet mixes. In the back of my head - besides the egg where the sifter whacked me - is someone going to eat this cake and think - my goodness, THIS WOMAN USED PACKET MIX? Outrageous.

And then it got me to thinking about these cakes. These birthday cakes that are like show dogs. Look what my mama made for me! But then again, I remember the cakes that were made lovingly for me, they act as landmarks in my life - and I like to look back and remember those heady days.

The Doctor weighed in on my prowess early in the day with: "Your leaves look good Mum, but not as good as the ones in the book." Yowsers.

I had to slap myself out of it. No one else was around to do it (although I'm sure Tiny would jump at the chance to slap me). I kept thinking of the Doctor instead of the mums. I kept trying to think of 12 eager little children, and how excited they would be! That their drive is completely different to ours. How that innocence is so pure, and trusting, and proud as punch.

Maybe you'd say I reversed out of competing in the Mummy Olympics, and accelerated into trying to create some magical memories. Driven into the happiness, the chaos, the angst, the excitement of parenting. That's what drive is. I have the drive to make memories for my small fry, but sometimes I feel like I don't have enough petrol in the tank.

I can't even remember what I ate at birthday parties when I was small. It was all about that giddy excitement. Seeing your friends, playing games, balloons, and being picked up too early (it's always too early to leave a good party), and driving home with butterflies in your tummy, replaying all the action.

Memory Makers

I always embrace a new way to preserve memories. So many things happen, so many high points, low points, memorable points, so much that I won't remember unaided. And I want to remember as much as a I can about my children growing up. I wish I could just simply add some more memory to my own personal hard drive, but given I can't, there are ways to remember good things. And it's more than just photos.

I am pretty certain I gleaned this awesome idea from Brooke at Inchmark.

Whenever the Doctor says something funny, I take a scrap of paper (and I mean scrap, an old receipt, the back of an envelope etc) and write it down with the date. I then pop it into a tin.

When I'm having a grey day, I take out these little things and read them. And there are some real funny ones in there:

'Mum, look what the Winterman says!' - the Doctor calls the weatherman the Winterman. Quite apt during Winter.

'Mum why is that dog going for a walk without it's anter?' - the Doctor for some unknown reason calls owners 'anters'. It's too darling to correct him.

Or this one from pre-Christmas last year: 'Our Christmas lights are dancing'.

Or this one: 'Thank you for letting me do some toilet training a very while ago'. (Seriously, the pleasure is all mine).

Cheap and cheerful. Got any other ways to preserve your darling memories?

Remember

Remember holding a new babe in your arms. The way she looks at you adoringly. Remember this. Etch it into your memory. Hold tight, it won't be long before she's crawling away discovering, but she'll always remember your voice. Your calm touch. The way you look lovingly at her. She'll remember the way you always wanted to be close. Remember that life changing moment when she just smiles. Grasp it firmly, never let it go. Those coos. The way she's happiest just to be close and listen to your heartbeat. Remember the smell of a newborn. That milky, sweet goodness, just at the top of their head. At the nape of their neck.

....clucky much?

Remember to hit this link to visit more...rememberers.

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.

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.