#937 Saturday night Pancakes

Hubbie thought I was a bit mad.

It was past 9pm, and here I was all comfy in my pjs, getting ready to head into the kitchen and make pancakes for dessert.

It was a promise after all. We had stumbled upon the topic of pancakes the night before, when baby girl had asked if I could make them tonight… I had said “after dinner,” and so it came to be, that my clever 5 year-old did NOT forget what I had said.

Not when it comes to PANCAKES.

Hubbie had thought we were soooo insane. “You’re making pancakes now? After all we’ve eaten? At this time?”

GUESS WHO SAT DOWN TO EAT PANCAKES WITH US 20 MINUTES LATER???

Hubbie.

LOL.

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We indulged in jam and Nutella toppings, sprinkled generously with berries and bananas, and the late dessert started off an upside-down ‘whatever’ kind of night.

The footy was on in the background, broken up by my random calls for the players to “catch that ball!”

Sia’s Christmas album argued for top spot in the audio department too, as baby girl had decided to put her on the stereo super early for the year, or super late for last year, whichever way you wanna look at it. (Then again baby girl makes sure the album makes an appearance at least once a month).

Hubbie had randomly decided to sort his CD collection, high on his recent cold/flu tablets suddenly kicking in and giving him some much needed energy.

ALL the lights were on.

And it was just super awesome. And it all started with pancakes. Genius.

#907 For the love of Baking

I am quite pleased with myself. Pleased in that I don’t despair too much when faced with the task of cooking or baking, whether for myself or for others.

I don’t despair, because… I enjoy it. A LOT.

It is another avenue of my creativity coming forth. It requires thought, planning, precision… but just like the creative process, it also takes intuition, passion, and a healthy dose (perhaps a few tablespoons?) of spontaneity.

I’ve been baking a bit this week in the lead up to my nephew’s 16th birthday bash this weekend. And although I know I don’t mind cooking, the thought of making so much was initially, a bit of a worry in my mind.

How would I get it done?

Would it go as planned?

Would any hiccups occur along the way?

Amazingly, so far, none. Today was the last baking-fest, and each day that I had to prepare or tend to the oven, I’d put on a cd, turn it RIGHT UP, and begin the creative process in my kitchen.

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I have found real happiness and delight in making things with passion. With heartfelt intention. While singing out loud to Queen/Prince/Sia/Michael Jackson, other creative geniuses filling the rooms of our house with meaningful music.

I guess I’ve realised whole-heartedly, how important the act of baking is to me.

It brings people together. It carries on age-old cooking traditions and recipes.

It is magic, at your fingertips. Much like writing 😉

And it creates love and unity. Nothing is more rewarding that your Hubbie and daughter stealing baked goods that you’ve created for a party, knowing how happy it is making their tummies.

I do it, for the ♥

And that is how the magic comes in. You must do everything, out of ♥♥♥

#866 Dancing in another place, with my loves

It’s not a good thing when you stave off dancing for a considerable length of time.

And I don’t mean the boppy, jump up and down kind of baby girl’s fave dance group Pnau. Nor am I talking of the swaying sensations of Hubbie’s preference Sia, or the hip-shaking rhythms of my, Ricky Martin.

No. What I’m referring to here is the funky feet of folk.

Folk dancing. It is a whole other dance, rhythm and culture all of itself. When you grow up listening to it, it surrounds your family parties, and you partake by dancing along to it whole-heartedly at these festive get-togethers, it creates the very important foundation of shared family love, memories and ALL the happy times.

This time however, it wasn’t in our kitchen. Sure, baby girl and I were present, but Hubbie was at work.

We were in a lounge room. Not our lounge room. My OLD lounge room. And the third person present was my Dad.

We were at my parents place.

🙂

Baby girl loves to put it on. There is a small stereo in the lounge room, with a permanently placed folk cd inside. She turns it on, winds up the volume, and happily starts jumping along.

How happy that makes me, that at only 4, that type of music is already engrained into her.

“Come on Mama, dance!”

I tagged along.

I should warm up, right? When ever there we do any kind of ‘warming up’ as we call it, it’s usually because some big family event is coming up, and we need to get our cold dancing feet fired up and ready.

But today the only warming up was done for just thatwarming up. It was cold, there hadn’t been a get-together to get us jumping in ages, and yet I still felt the urge to get the blood pumping, knowing it would help the chills of this, our June day.

I started jumping beside baby girl, with no real rhythm, just to make her happy.

“Come on Deda!”

I looked at my Dad, all comfortable and cosy on the couch. There was as much chance of him getting up to join us as there was in the day moving above 20 degrees.

“Baby girl, leave Deda, he is resting.”

He looked to agree with that statement as I said it, but then as I kept on leaping in the air with baby girl, I saw him get up, and start to –

one two, one two three, one two three, one two three

He was dancing!

“Good job Deda!” I yelled to him.

Baby girl smiled in happiness, and on he, and now I, inspired by his professionalism in the act, kept on going, doing it the right way

one two, one two three, one two three, one two three

Our feet kicking the in air, moving from left to right and left again, and baby girl telling me all the while –

THAT I WAS DOING IT ALL WRONG.

Sure honey. Because she’s the folk-dancing boss.

So I copied her kicks in the air from side to side and left to right, and suddenly she was much more impressed.

(Face palm).

But for those few moments, the three of us mucking about, folk music in the air, legs kicking around wildly…

I reckon the room temperature DID reached 20. 😉

 

#695 Sand Creations by the bay

I had really wanted to take baby girl last year, following on from our Sea Change move… but alas, time, and circumstance just didn’t allow it to happen. Even though the entire event ran for a good 4 months.

This time however, I was set. Following on from the Christmas theme in December, baby girl and I ventured over to Frankston Sand Sculpting to view their ‘Aladdin & The Arabian Nights’ display.

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The sculptures were impressive and exquisitely intricate, however to a 4 year old, the most excitement was when she saw the Aladdin and Jasmine character on the magic carpet. I mean, she is 4.

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(Baby girl going all Sia-esque on me again).

Off to a sand pit to play with some buckets for a bit, into a nearby marquee where there was some free face (hand) painting to be enjoyed, and then I soon discovered the other marquee, where she could reap the benefits of the Supa Pass I had purchased for her…

Sure, the floor in there was all sand. Really, other than the beach, I would never willingly take my daughter to a place where the floor is replaced by this texture. But it was all for a purpose. Tables were assembled, coloured sand of all kinds was on each table, and on it you could create sand art and sand bottles.

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This was GREAT. I didn’t realise until I sat down with baby girl, how much fun it was. We strategically peeled back stickers off of the yellow paper, revealing a sticky substance underneath, so that sand was applied, and then shaken off… voila! The sand colour of your choice remained.

Parents were close by to their kids, enjoying the art and creativity as much as their children did. And children sat so patiently, so happily, so willingly, choosing their colours and applying the sand where necessary. We happily made baby girl’s choo-choo train picture, and also took home a sand bottle which she had filled herself.

I know the drawcard of the event are the sculptures themselves, but the sand colouring bit was by far the most entertaining part. Baby girl said to me as we left “thank you for taking me to sandcastles.”

Awww, sweetheart. You are WELCOME. I had the best time too. 🙂

 

#693 Boho girl and recycled shoes

This girl right here:

Evoking some serious Sia right there. I mean she even jumps around to her songs, sings them out loud, and interchanges between all of her cds at home, much to Hubbie’s delight, yet also severe pain at the thought of her scratching any of them. Ouch.

And then, tonight at the party we attended, I did boho myself. Recycled. I hadn’t known what shoes to wear with my dress, and suddenly, Hubbie was pointing to a pair in my wardrobe… I pair I had never worn…

WHY? Because they had been handed down to me by my sister.

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(Obviously the ones on the left…)

And all of a sudden, they rocked. They were perfect, comfortable, the heel was high, but as I said, comfy and easy to walk in. For a semi-hoarder like me, this was not a good thing. This was confirming to me the whole ‘in-case’ hoarder theory.

You know the one? “I will keep this, ‘in case’ I need it one day…”

Well, those awesome shoes handed down to me, practically brand new, worked a treat today. Boho rules 🙂

#659 Setting up the Tree – 4 year old Baby Girl edition

Ok, enough tears and doom and gloom and all round SAP.

I woke today, with determination. ZEST. And most importantly…

Festive Spirit. Because it was the 4th day of December, and this most greatest lover of Christmas did not have her Christmas tree up and decorated!

The insanity.

In my defence, I did BEGIN last week when it was late-November, when I laid down the foundations to the main tree, and baby girl’s tree…

You see, I take hours, even days to get it all done properly – because, OCD. I set up the basis, the branches first. And then I go back to lights, decorations, and then there is a condition known as Perfect Ornament Placement Disorder…. yep.

And then I decorate the house. Banners, Christmas paraphernalia, little lights, Santas in all forms… I am NOT like those people who post their trees on facebook. They have one tree in the corner of their living room with some tinsel and three kinds of same-shaped baubles in varying colours from the same 20 pack box they bought at Kmart.

No. The Christmas decorating is an artform. The Christmas decorating is a tradition. The Christmas decorating, is an experience.

So today in true festive spirit, I donned the traditional Christmas decorating hat (really just a Santa hat but it’s become the norm now) and put on SIA’s latest Christmas album (by the by, AMAZING) and got cracking.

I must admit, the hat got in the way as I was winding the lights around the tree, and for all of 5 seconds I removed it… and then I asked myself “do you like Christmas, or are you a scrooge?” and I put the hat back on, irritating or NOT.

Then some more SIA vibes wore off on me as I went on decorating

until it was baby girl’s turn. See I had the most fabulous idea months earlier, when lo and behold in said Kmart (I never said they weren’t good) I came across a mini Christmas tree… and the Christmas lover in me, clapped her hands excitedly and with much joy at the prospect of a special tree just for baby girl’s room.

I didn’t need to encourage or convince her, AT ALL.

So we got cracking on her one too. I already had some baubles I don’t use anymore (i.e. I got over-excited one year as all Christmas-mad people do, and bought too many baubles before deciding on my Christmas tree colour scheme… yep, the colours are super important) and as well as some other special pieces and a bauble she picked the other day from the shops, she got to it. (She had to wear ‘the hat too… for all of 2 minutes it lasted).

When she was done, I said “baby girl stand next to the tree.”

NEXT TO.

This:

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She cracks me up.

Once a couple of hours had passed, I was fairly pleased with our efforts.

Never mind the house is a complete pig-sty and our fridge is in our lounge room because LONG DRAWN OUT KITCHEN RENOS, but who’s mad, frustrated, pissed off? NOT ME NOT ME NOT ME.

No, we are festive and Christmas-ready, and that’s ALL that matters.

 

#656 Long drives lead to Friday Night

Friday nights are the epitome of Dreams Manifested.

It always signals the end of something tiring, mundane, routine, demanding or difficult.

In my case today, it signalled almost the end of driving.

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Photo by Michael Coury on Unsplash

I’ve been driving all over the place for 2 days. All good things, but it is getting exhausting and frustrating at this time of year. I have some more set up for me tomorrow, but having this little in-between break called Friday Night, where I chill-axed with Hubbie and baby girl, eating takeaway and reminiscing about SIA, it was just what I needed.

And tomorrow’s driving road leads to… The Wiggles. If the insane storms that have been predicted by the weather bureaus fall flat on their winds, that is…