#537 New ducted heating!

YEEEEAAAAAASSSSSS!!!

Baby girl is walking around rosy-cheeked again.

The new ducted heating is here.

:):):)

The pain is OVER. We have gone all high-tech and with the times with this beauty

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It regulates temperature, and even has programmable timeslots so that you can have the heater come on at a pre-determined time… un-fucking-believable.

Just like when my new car had a 6 stack CD player, I am soooo behind in the times.

Our old heater, both here and at our old place, was some 80s-90s contraption, where you had to pull the lever across to the desired temperature of 20+ ‘something,’ but even that ‘set temperature’ was questionable at times.

Tonight, it got hot. Like really hot. This is right on time, since my Dad told me the weekend ahead is set to expect some major Winter-y blasts.

And just for the record, when I was freezing my ass off in the house yesterday as the tradies were in the midst of installing new said-heater? Yeah, well, coldest August day for DECADES.

Still, the icy blasts that will set upon us are timely, since we now have heating, bitches. Take that Winter, mwa ha ha.

So toasty and grateful right now 🙂

 

 

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#529 Dancing with Daddy

It’s become the norm that we like to surprise baby girl with presents. Hubbie even goes as far as stopping at a petrol station or a supermarket on his way home from work, just to get her a little something. Even after a 10-hour work day, he will still make a detour, for her.
I am constantly waging war and proclaiming that her plastic toys are on the out, telling her that she is to have no more toys (until her birthday) and then of course, she will be away at kinder like today, and I just can’t help myself. I have to buy her something.
It’s always little things. When we are out and about I have a rule: one chocolate, or one toy – pick wisely. She accepts this well. Too bad I don’t.
Today I bought her a bit of both.
Aside from her kinder surprise egg, the toy was one of those Disney Princess toys, the lucky dip ones in a plastic packet concealing their image, so that in trying to collect the lot you end up with several multiples of the same figurine. She only has Tinkerbell in this particular collection, and from the feel of the packet, I guessed it was Cinderella.
When she got home from kinder, she found the packet and opened it excitedly. She had guessed at Snow White. Turns out we were both wrong – it was Belle from Beauty and the Beast. She was rapt, regardless.
Of course she had to watch the movie after dinner. I put it on, and she soon told me she wanted the yellow dress bit, where Belle is dancing in the grand ballroom with the Beast and they are getting all loved up. The figurine has Belle in the fancy dress, so yeah, let’s cut to the chase.
I watched her expression as Belle and the Beast danced around the ballroom. She smiled and pressed her chin against her shoulder, going “awww.”
“Do they love each other?” I asked, fascinated by her correct interpretation.
“Yeah.”
Later on when the credits were rolling, the classic theme song came on again. She imitated slow dancing, and now Hubbie was in the room too.
“Why don’t you slow dance?” I asked her. “With your first Prince?”
She looked shyly/cheekily up at her Dad, the way she does when she is going to say no regardless of the question. “No.”
“Ok, we’ll show you.” I got up and we swayed three times in each other’s arms, before she was yelling, as predicted – “me me me me me!”
I stepped aside, grinning. She walked into her Dad, gave him a hug/embrace with her arms at his, and then moved in tune with him to the music, like a complete pro. She then looked up at him with a bright smile, happy and adoring and all LOVE. It was the most innocent, sweet, wide-eyed and beautiful smile I had ever seen.
“Awww,” said her Dad. “You’re a princess.”
Meanwhile I could not speak. I was a bubbling idiot, almost choking on my tears from the beauty of it all. I managed an “oh my God,” my heart bursting from the heart-exploding scene before me.
A girl’s first love, a girl’s first Prince. A baby girl and her Daddy. My loves. ♥♥♥

#515 Their deepening bond

I can say with much confidence, that as a Mum, I have always been the flavour of the month.

Week. Day. Hour. Second. You get what I mean. And I don’t think it’s anything special about me… it’s just a Mum thing.

A Mum thing that is even deeper, because I share a special Mummy-Daughter bond with a fellow 3 year-old cheeky monkey princess.

That’s just how it is, and I think for many (not all, but many) Mums tend to be closer to their kids because in most cases, they are the ones with them the most, raising them, teaching them, playing with them and making memories with them.

The Dads are there too, doing ALL of those things and much more. But alas, the Dads sadly miss out, since they are usually (not always, but usually) the breadwinners, and while they are bringing the bacon home, the Mums are getting all the delightful smiles and whines, hugs and tantrums, kisses and tears.

Mums cops all kinds of attitude from their young brood. And consequently they get all of their sweet love and attention too.

I feel for Hubbie. He and baby girl have a great relationship. He is the big prankster, and in typical Dad/guy mode, will deliberately rev her up, antagonise her and stir up trouble just to get a reaction, smiling at the mess he’s made, thinking ‘this will toughen her up,’ while baby girl yells running from him, screaming “no!” because he has picked her up when she didn’t want it, roughed up her hair as she was playing lego, or just plain spoken to her when she was not in the mood.

Our girl is 3 going on 13, by the way.

He thinks it’s hilarious, while I stand referee, telling the both of them to calm down, exclaiming “I have two kids! I have two kids!”

It’s fun and games, ALL DAY LONG.

She’s always run to me when hurt. In trouble. When something is bugging her. I’m the one to put her to bed, I’m the one to take her to the loo. Even when we are enraged with each other, yelling and screaming, we come back to one another within seconds, both crying and apologising profusely, kissing and hugging each other and promising we won’t ever get to that point again.

Yes, I apologise. It kills me when we argue. I know not many would agree and say I need to be tougher, and in other areas I am, but… I love our bond. She is learning love from me. And I wouldn’t change our relationship for the world.

But lately, I see her relationship with her Dad, changing. And I think it is the sweetest thing.

Just today there were three events which showed plainly how much she is relying on Dad for comfort, fun and support. She got upset when he went to have a shower, sad he was going to be missing for 20 minutes, something she always does with me; she sat on his lap as she drank her nightly milk, again something she sometimes does with me; and as I took her to bed, she had to go upstairs and kiss him goodnight one more time, and see him off for the night. As he was headed up, she followed and I called out “someone has a fan!”

It is adorable. I think it’s the best, and am not in the least bit envious. This is my husband for goodness sake. As much as a daughter should be close to her Mum, it is just as important for her to have a role model and look up to her Dad – because it is from him that she will learn how to regard herself, and it is from him she will learn how she should be treated by others. There are many important lessons the Daddy-Daughter relationship will teach a young girl, and seeing the strengthened bond tonight, makes me excited and moved, by what is to come.

I am supremely grateful. 🙂

 

#488 The tree in Their yard

Still on nature.

There are many things we take for granted in life, and many that we act as if it will be there forever.

For me today, that forever thing is my parents’ home.

It was the place I was brought home to when a newborn, days after coming into the world. I grew up in that house, and only left years and years and years later, when I got married. It may seem confined and claustrophobic to some, but the years I spent there were some of the most memorable and happiest years of my life. I love that house.

Likewise, their yard. I’ve never really taken much refuge, notice of, or practiced much gratitude towards it, only because well, ‘taking things for granted’ note as above. Assuming it will always be there. Thinking that I will be able to visit it FOREVER.

Things don’t always turn out the way we envision them to be in our little fantasy-lands. Often our fantasy-lands are just that, images in our head.

So today while over there visiting on yet another Friday, drinking a coffee my Dad made me out in their yard, from a coffee pod machine I bought them one Christmas (of course I would buy them something coffee-related) I came upon, and noticed for the second time that day, the spectacular nature of a tree.

It’s the only one in their yard that still has part of its leaves on, and visually striking is the fact that it is prime-centre in the middle of the yard, surrounded by all the other leaf-less, stark grey branches around it from neighbouring trees. I looked at this stunning hybrid Pear tree (my Dad is a supreme Gardener and Handy-Man, so don’t ask) and observed to myself, that it was beautiful. Stunning even.

‘Pear, hold on.’

#471 The Box of Barbie Memories

“Why don’t you take home that box of dolls you have?” Mum had asked me. “You said when she was younger that you wanted to wait a bit more, but now she might enjoy it.”

I could see where she was going. When she had asked me about a year ago if I wanted to take home with me an old box of Barbies I had packed away at my parents house when I was a pre-teen, I had said that I’d rather wait until baby girl was older, and ‘into’ dolls more. Also, I didn’t want to be adding another box of stuff to our household, when we already had so much ‘stuff.’

But I realised today, that baby girl was not only older, but she was definitely into dolls: she had two of her own Barbies, given to her as pressies over the last 6 months, and she loved the whole figurine, dress-up, pretend-play games she did with them. It was actually, perfect timing.

When at my parents place, they started looking for them in a wardrobe, and it almost looked like they wouldn’t be found for a little while. When they almost gave up, Dad stumbled across the box.

Just looking at the box, brought back memories: both the box, and the packing of it. With the latter, I actually had the faintest memory of packing it – in that room where it was found, my old ‘first’ room (before my sister moved out and then I moved into her room because it was front-facing and bigger), I remembered placing the barbies neatly against one another and on top of each other, before gently packing it all away… for good.

For another day, another time. I didn’t know then what I would be doing with it in 20 years time. That I would be giving it a new lease on life.

Secondly, the box.

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The Kraft box. My Dad worked there for a good couple of decades, and each year for their annual Christmas party, each employee was invited to the party for a lunch, bringing home a festive box full of Krafty goodies – cheeses, spreads, biscuits, and any other new product that wasn’t even on the shelves yet. I was always so excited when Dad came home from these Christmas parties – I’d come home from school, looking around the kitchen and dining room table, hoping to see a Christmas-y coloured box, with tinsel bursting from the sides. And Dad knew I’d get so excited about it, smiling just as much as me when I finally saw the box. Going through the contents of the box, was a happy, pre-Christmas tradition for me.

Even after he stopped working there, he was still invited, along with other long-standing employees of the company, to a former employees Christmas Party… that sadly, soon stopped fairly soon after, after new management came along. I remember the sadness and disappointment I felt in discovering the goodie box, was good, no more. So this box that I was staring at today, was quite possibly, one of, if not the, last boxes he ever received.

And I’d put my Barbies into it. Memories upon memories.

The only way I got baby girl into the car today was the promise of playing with Barbie dolls at home. So once there, I complied.

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Finding all my dolls, some just that, plain dolls, ‘wannabe Barbies’ and others the very real deal, was seriously like stepping into a time capsule that I myself had buried 2 decades ago. I found dolls I had forgotten about, costumes and shoes I didn’t know I had, and also the barbies that I faintly remembered – and then of course Ken. Who could forget when one got a Ken doll? That was a special thing back in the day.

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(Some funky outfits they had)

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(Check out the blonde ‘fro – yeah yeah!)

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(I won this Ariel doll in a kids mag comp, and I was STOKED… but one of her legs broke as soon as we lifted her out, maybe she should have stayed in mermaid form…)

I told baby girl that she must take extra care with these dolls, and pack them away gently as they were found. I think she knows what to do, but still, I have to make sure these Barbies are under supervision by me or Hubbie when she is playing with them. Even he agrees, saying “they’re old enough to go on club reg.”

Too right.

But even though I’m happy for baby girl to play with my cherished old Barbies, there is one thing I think I’m going to have to change – the box. Old and flimsy as it is, and with the addition of a piece of paper that was on the bottom of the box, where my Mum scrawled Dad’s last day of work at Kraft… I don’t know, but I think I need to put away this box, this special box of so much history and memories, and use it for my own good, and get a new box for baby girl to put all her old/new barbies in.

I know it’s just a box, but it’s what it represents that is priceless.

#359 Mum joined facebook

Like, literally. This happened in the real world, TODAY.

I had messaged sis late last night with a whole barrage of various questions

(Do you want to see the Wiggles in Frankston/What size sour cream goes into that awesome dip/Can I get the bread a day in advance)

so it came as a little surprise when I turned on my phone and her reply to me this morning was

“Pls send FB request for Mum when you have a minute.”

What?!

I cared not that she hadn’t answered my questions, nor that I was in the middle of preparing brekkie and a hungry baby girl was nearby… I hightailed it to my FB app and typed in Mum’s name, and lo and behold THERE WAS AN ONLINE IDENTITY FOR HER.

(Angels sing!)

For people who are old-school, and who grew up in a tiny European village with one pair of pants, and a toilet as a hole in the ground, this is a big deal. As forward thinking and open-minded as my parents are, I still never thought I would ever see THIS day. We had been talking about getting Mum a new phone lately, with a FB app so she could connect with family here and abroad, but until I saw my Mum’s profile pic (of her and my Dad, shucks) it actually didn’t seem possible.

I for one, am over the moon. I never thought of the possibilities of my Mum having a facebook account, and I guess it’s just the thought that she can see what I see, and also, see me, and baby girl, and Hubbie online, whenever she likes, especially now that we are living further away from each other. The opportunities are exciting for her, and I know this even if she doesn’t, yet, which is why I am so happy for her.

What did I do upon finding her profile? On her wall:

“Hi Mum, welcome to facebook! ♥”

🙂

I’m chuffed my Mum is on Facebook. Really, words I never thought I would utter.

#322 Re-commencing the holidays

Our holidays have been on hold since my Dad was taken to hospital several days ago. And even though he was discharged yesterday, I was still busy with both him and Mum today, organising many other things for them.

I would run to the side of any of my immediate family members or close friends who needed me, whether due to health, heartache, or general ‘help’ reasons. And I am so grateful that Dad is now doing better.

But I can also say that I’m grateful our holidays are starting up again. We went out to dinner tonight, and it was great to do so with such satisfaction and relief, knowing that not only did Sis and I do everything we could for our parents these last few days, but they are both getting looked after and WILL be getting better. Things ARE actually, genuinely, on the improve.

Which means my last few days of the holidays, will surely be on the improve too.

(Exhale).