I feel like the new girl. Although I'm far far from it, joining in activities with child #2 is like being the new girl all over again. The big kids are all off doing their own things, Kindy, Daycare etc, and so too, their mums have their own agendas now, and there I am, left to my own devices, thrown somewhat into the deep end, right back at the beginning on the path of discovery which is making new friends.
It would be great if Lil Miss had even half as many little mates as the boy has, and with it, me, the ability once again to meet and make friends with some wonderful mothers of those cute little monkeys.
In a way, I don't want new friends, cause I like the ones I have, I feel out of my comfort zone, far from shy, yet comfortably complacent in my wee circle of 'girls', I'm finding it hard to come to terms with welcoming any more into my life.
I sat back at music this morning, like a single at a dance, checking out all who were there, "oh, she dresses well", "oh, she's a loud one", "poo, stink much", so many different faces for me to process. But I'll get there I suppose, I did it once, and now's the chance to rise to the occasion again.
And in all honesty, us mums, we're all in the same boat, waiting, watching, wanting that special someone to have a chat and ask round for a coffee.
I'm lucky to have the opportunity to be a stay at home mum. And with that in mind, I best be off, washing to fold, dishes to do!!!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Blade runner
I can count on my left hand how many times I've mowed the lawns. Three. A grand total of three. I basically suck at the skill of lawn mowing. It's not that I don't care for it, infact on the contrary, I quite like a bit of fresh air and a sneeze in the sun. I'm just not that mowercanically minded is all.
First time was a disaster. Tried to surprise hubby (well, boyfriend he was at that stage) by mowing the lawn so when he came home it would be one less job he'd have to do. Turns out, mowers can be complicated for someone mower illiterate like me. I had no idea the blade had to be moved into the downwards 'cut' position in order for the grass to actually be clipped. And so the story goes, I mowed the whole lawns without cutting particularly many blades of grass at all, apart from the odd one alongside the deck which was slightly longer than those blades in the middle of the lawn.
Hot and bothered I showered and waited excitedly for my beloved to return home. Well, he arrived, and minutes turned into hours, and still no comment of my afternoons effort. Sitting on the couch starting to fume that he was an ungrateful so-in-so having not even mentioned let alone thanked me for my efforts, I made the first move. "Oh" he laughed, "did you". Took himself outside to the deck and had a look. Bent in half laughing he explained to me that you actually need to lower the blade and that my efforts had been in vain. Not quite believing that someone could not notice the length of the lawn hadn't changed one iota from begining to end of session.
Next was the Whakatane house with the 900 odd sqm section to mow which took me hours and I vowed and declared that I would never mow a lawn ever again. But I did. I mowed the lawn here at our new house last week. In a last ditch attempt to right the wrongs of my lawn mowing career as it were. It's not a perfect job, I didn't do the weed eating, but hey, you take what you can get - right?
And THIS time the man did notice. Yay. Twelve years on I got my "thanks for mowing the lawns, it looks great". It was worth the wait.
First time was a disaster. Tried to surprise hubby (well, boyfriend he was at that stage) by mowing the lawn so when he came home it would be one less job he'd have to do. Turns out, mowers can be complicated for someone mower illiterate like me. I had no idea the blade had to be moved into the downwards 'cut' position in order for the grass to actually be clipped. And so the story goes, I mowed the whole lawns without cutting particularly many blades of grass at all, apart from the odd one alongside the deck which was slightly longer than those blades in the middle of the lawn.
Hot and bothered I showered and waited excitedly for my beloved to return home. Well, he arrived, and minutes turned into hours, and still no comment of my afternoons effort. Sitting on the couch starting to fume that he was an ungrateful so-in-so having not even mentioned let alone thanked me for my efforts, I made the first move. "Oh" he laughed, "did you". Took himself outside to the deck and had a look. Bent in half laughing he explained to me that you actually need to lower the blade and that my efforts had been in vain. Not quite believing that someone could not notice the length of the lawn hadn't changed one iota from begining to end of session.
Next was the Whakatane house with the 900 odd sqm section to mow which took me hours and I vowed and declared that I would never mow a lawn ever again. But I did. I mowed the lawn here at our new house last week. In a last ditch attempt to right the wrongs of my lawn mowing career as it were. It's not a perfect job, I didn't do the weed eating, but hey, you take what you can get - right?
And THIS time the man did notice. Yay. Twelve years on I got my "thanks for mowing the lawns, it looks great". It was worth the wait.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Did I fart?
Gone of course are the days of 10am sleep-ins, dinner 12 hours after that, and music blaring from the stereo in between.
New Years eve for the year 2009 was a long time coming. For around 10 years a group of us had made motions of having a get together of gargantuan proportions to see in midnight and be hooligans til the cows come home. And so it came to pass, camp mother 'Jo' decided to take the bull by the horns and organise way back in February a rented bach on the edge of the beautiful lake Rotoiti. Far enough away from Rotorua not to smell the sulphur, yet, close enough to have to drive past Hells gate and make the mandatory 'fart gag' on the way by, although admittedly, in driving through by myself having dropped the children off in Tauranga for the night at their grandparents, the fart gag wasn't quite so hilarious "phoar, did I fart?, Um, yep, guess I must have hwar hwar hwar"
In turn we arrived, around a dozen 30 somethings ready to show the Vegas district what we were made of. Turns out the 5pm til midnight stretch minus children to feed, bathe, bed and re-bed is actually quite the long night.
We transformed the lawn into a makeshift lounge bar, blue & white chilly bins for our coffee tables, and with gorgeous 70's kiwi bach furniture to lounge on, we were set for the evening.
As the witching hour crept up, so too did the sound system, and the volume of the conversation. I was quite taken with an ipod which had come along for the ride, two actually and by the end of the night I had managed to take sole charge of the evenings listening entertainment.
A few saved fireworks for the climax of the countdown, and disappointly not even an attempt at the traditional Auld Lang Syne, one party goer even wishing his loved one a "Merry Christmas dear", we were clearly not as good as this New Years eve thing as we used to be.
New years day, and our big chance at a sleep in, but of course at 6am and we were wide awake, and with the big brother I never had in the form of my cousin, and his family arriving in time for their we bubs 2nd feed of the morning, we were up and atom watching out as every car drove by wondering if it would be our babies arriving to join in the fun at the lake.
And fun indeed we had. A bit of shopping, some of Rotorua tourist fun, swimming (not me though, brrrr), some very scarey looking mermaids, our time spent at Rotoiti will always be something to look back on and smile. Even if we were only one of two couples still in 'home' mode having to feed, bathe, bed & re-bed children, there was certainly an air of wanting to stay for just one more sleep.
New Years eve for the year 2009 was a long time coming. For around 10 years a group of us had made motions of having a get together of gargantuan proportions to see in midnight and be hooligans til the cows come home. And so it came to pass, camp mother 'Jo' decided to take the bull by the horns and organise way back in February a rented bach on the edge of the beautiful lake Rotoiti. Far enough away from Rotorua not to smell the sulphur, yet, close enough to have to drive past Hells gate and make the mandatory 'fart gag' on the way by, although admittedly, in driving through by myself having dropped the children off in Tauranga for the night at their grandparents, the fart gag wasn't quite so hilarious "phoar, did I fart?, Um, yep, guess I must have hwar hwar hwar"
In turn we arrived, around a dozen 30 somethings ready to show the Vegas district what we were made of. Turns out the 5pm til midnight stretch minus children to feed, bathe, bed and re-bed is actually quite the long night.
We transformed the lawn into a makeshift lounge bar, blue & white chilly bins for our coffee tables, and with gorgeous 70's kiwi bach furniture to lounge on, we were set for the evening.
As the witching hour crept up, so too did the sound system, and the volume of the conversation. I was quite taken with an ipod which had come along for the ride, two actually and by the end of the night I had managed to take sole charge of the evenings listening entertainment.
A few saved fireworks for the climax of the countdown, and disappointly not even an attempt at the traditional Auld Lang Syne, one party goer even wishing his loved one a "Merry Christmas dear", we were clearly not as good as this New Years eve thing as we used to be.
New years day, and our big chance at a sleep in, but of course at 6am and we were wide awake, and with the big brother I never had in the form of my cousin, and his family arriving in time for their we bubs 2nd feed of the morning, we were up and atom watching out as every car drove by wondering if it would be our babies arriving to join in the fun at the lake.
And fun indeed we had. A bit of shopping, some of Rotorua tourist fun, swimming (not me though, brrrr), some very scarey looking mermaids, our time spent at Rotoiti will always be something to look back on and smile. Even if we were only one of two couples still in 'home' mode having to feed, bathe, bed & re-bed children, there was certainly an air of wanting to stay for just one more sleep.
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