ma-na-ma-na

I loved The Muppet Show as a kid. But when I heard about the new Muppet movie, I confess my first thoughts began with the words ''I'd rather bleed to death''. Fast-forward to this afternoon, two-thirds into a fairly shitty day from my perspective and not much hope of it improving. Three clicks of the Apple TV remote later, the girls were entranced. I have to admit I avoided the first two-thirds, apart from the opening which gave me the general gist and enough cheesy musical numbers to see me through. But what I did catch turned out to be quite the therapy session.
Imagine my horror to find that one of the muppets to get a gig in this new movie is the very same muppet that caused some of my childhood's most horrific nightmares. It was a blue dragon, and I didn't know its name at the time but apparently it was Uncle Deadly. That's right, Uncle. Deadly. Quite pleased I didn't have that dimension added to my six-year-old fears. I recall he was in an episode of The Muppet Show with Vincent Price (again, what were they thinking?) and as Wikipedia tells it, he only made a couple of appearances in the show's history. So why, oh why, did they have to bring him back in 2012 to scare the shit out of me and possibly my children?
But then, the magic of the muppets came back to me too. When they're back in the theatre and the curtain rises on all the little arches .. it's time to put on make-up, it's time to dress up right .. I just felt really inexplicably happy. Like I did as a child when that music started at the same time every week. There was something very comforting about it. Throw in Kermit, a riverbank log and a reprise of Rainbow Connection and I was ready to give Jason Segel an Academy Award.

the route of the problem

Driving home yesterday along the Pacific Highway after a long but lovely day, there came a question without notice from the back seat.
"Mum,'' said the serious voice.
"Where is U Turn Bay?''
As I drove on, marvelling at the clarity and innocence of the nine-year-old mind, I wondered. Where is U Turn Bay? And how on earth do you get there?

come sunday

There is one member of this household who is always overjoyed simply to be in my presence. When I go outside to hang out the washing, he sits beside me and just adores everything I do. Can't take his great big eyes off me. He never asks me for anything, never yells or sulks or demands to know where his pyjamas/favourite socks/pointless toy is. Never has to be reminded to say please or thankyou. Or to flush the toilet. Or to hang his towel up after his bath. When he's hungry (all the time), he will eat anything you give him and it will be the most remarkably delicious thing he has ever eaten. In his whole life. Some days I just really need that. And I was thinking yesterday, as I hung out the washing and my beautiful boy Sunday sat smiling up at me, I know what every mother should have this Mother's Day. Every mother needs a dog. They just make the bad days better.

and we say 'I know'

The girls have finished school for the year, an amazing year and Freya's last in kindergarten. I still marvel at how far she has come in the past two years, and when I read words like these I am reminded and I am grateful:

The sun has climbed the hill, the day is on the downward slope.
Between the morning and the afternoon, stand I here with my soul, and lift it up.
My soul is heavy with sunshine, and steeped with strength.
The sunbeams have filled me like a honeycomb,
It is the moment of fulness,
And the top of the morning.

D.H. Lawrence
The Mid-Day Verse

And though we haven't seen much sun of late, this one reminds me of a certain almost-two-year-old:

Under the new-made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways.

Dylan Thomas
Fern Hill

i don't want this feeling to go away

So, there was a meeting on Monday morning that I was to attend. It was not a business meeting, nobody had an agenda and nobody was wearing shoulder pads (that I know of). Its label is mothers meeting but it's actually much, much more and in a funny way much less than that.
But anyway, I found out first thing Monday that the meeting was to be at Merewether Beach. The main points of the 15,000 points that flashed through my mind in the next 30 seconds were: Rosa will run amok; I won't be able to actually sit down and ''attend'' the meeting; I need this meeting; I am a bad mother for not taking my toddler to the beach; I need this meeting. The result was, after about 10 minutes of just letting my brain run with it, I went alone to the beach and Rosa stayed with her loving father, completely oblivious of my whereabouts and the fun she was missing out on.
As I turned the corner and saw the still blue ocean I think I actually said "Oh, my" out loud. When I got out of the car and felt the warm, warm air I just knew that everything was perfect. It was all I could do to take the steps one at a time down to the sand, and as I walked into the waves there were hundreds of big, smooth rocks and shells at the soles of my feet that took me back more than 30 years to another beach and another lifetime. I dived in and the cold, clear water took my breath and forced me to the surface, gasping and just so happy to be alive and in the sea. I let the waves roll under me, then wash over me, until my feet lost contact with the sand and an age-old panic at the power of the ocean started to creep in. I washed off the salt and walked to the meeting venue - a picnic bench in the pavilion - and sat down to enjoy the magnificent day, the incredible view and the completely fantastic feeling that comes from sometimes just taking a breath. And having your breath taken away. I wish I could start every day like this.

a moment with Van the man and Mr Heinz

Let me start by saying there are few ills in this world that cannot be soothed by a bowl of Big Red tomato soup. And so it came to pass, some days ago now, that after a week in which all five members of the family had been struck low (thankfully not at the same time) with a heinous gastro bug, I sat down to breathe a great sigh of relief and warm my cockles with a little Big Red. Sorely needed to say the least.

At the same time, my dear husband was browsing through YouTube looking for suitably ancient songs and videos to entertain and educate the two eldest of our children. He asked me what I felt like listening to, and since I was in a wound-licking, contemplative kind of mood I naturally answered “Into the Mystic”. Because it is one of my absolute favourite songs ever, and I marvel at how beautiful it is every time I hear it. This led to another question from my dear husband, namely to which Van Morrison song did we dance our first dance as husband and wife. And the answer: These Are The Days.

I’m not sure if I had heard the song in the ten years since our wedding day. It certainly didn’t feel like it, as I sat crying silently into my Big Red, overwhelmed by everything that had changed in our lives in the past ten years, and by the one extraordinary, unfaltering thing at the heart of it all that is still exactly the same.

almost one

It has been quite a year. One in which this blog has not necessarily been a high priority, but one in which I have learned that in order to hold onto the things that matter, sometimes you have to let go of many things that don't. It has been my happiest year ever, I can say that with absolute certainty, and for that I am so grateful. I can't believe it has been almost one year since Rosa arrived and changed all of our lives so deeply, none more than mine. This little poem might have been written especially for her, but then it applies equally to all children, and all the sweet girls sleeping tonight under our roof.

Little One
Bless this little heart, this white soul that has won the kiss of heaven for our earth.
She loves the light of the sun, she loves the sight of her mother's face.
She has not learned to despise the dust, nor to hanker after gold.
Clasp her to your heart and bless her.
She has come into this land of one hundred crossroads; I know not how she chose you from the crowd, how she came to your door, and grasped your hand to ask you the way.
She will follow you, laughing and talking and not a doubt in her heart.
Keep her trust, lead her straight and bless her.
Lay your hand on her head, and pray that, though the waves underneath grow threatening, yet the breath from above may come and fill her sails and waft her to the haven of peace.
Forget her not in your hurry, let her come to your heart, and bless her.

Rabindranath Tagore