Gingerbread competition

All thirteen cousins assembled for our annual gingerbread party.  This year we made it a competition. judged by Kim.  Our decorators divided into two camps - those who painstakingly tried to decorate their gingerbreads with flair and originality and those who tried to put as many lollies and as much icing on as possible.  Mum also participated. As her alzheimer's progresses she seems to enjoy these kinds of activities.  She'll often happily colour things in, or cut things out.  It was a really lovely day and so nice that she could spend time with all her offspring.

I always do lots of things at Christmas, or at least in the month leading up to Christmas. We always have a gingerbread party and I usually make lots of shortbread and often we make some decorations (this year painted gumnuts). We always make Christmas crackers, with fortune cookies and one dollar scratchies.  The kids still make all their presents for each other and their friends, which is pretty time consuming, and I usually make the kids something each, most often a dress. Cherries are always the sign that Christmas is near and this year I splurged on a whole box, which I've never done before. It was so luxurious for everyone to have as many cherries as they felt like and still have some the next day.

So even though Christmas is always busy and I always do lots of things, there has been a different edge this year. One of my sisters is very unwell and so all the activity has an air of keeping oneself busy and distracted, as well as a particular poignance to it. She came to our gingerbread party and we talked whilst keeping up brave faces for the kids - hers and mine - and I expect this is the reason that the door of the gingerbread house is wonky and the whole thing has a rather rushed look to it. We won't find out for a few more weeks exactly how bad things are, and of course we are hoping that the news is better than we fear. It seems a bit farcical to write about the little things I've been doing and making, whilst in the background this massive, life changing event is unfolding, and yet it also seems wrong not to record our Christmas season. And however powerfully something like this puts all our other petty concerns into perspective, still those petty concerns remain and have to be dealt with. This blog is, after all, about small matters, not large matters!

I appear to have misplaced the letters to Santa Claus which were rather delightful. Ruby began hers by hoping that Santa had been a good boss, as the elves need someone responsible - so proud that she's already identified the potential for exploitation in the relationship between capital and labour. Grace is hoping for a parasol and a beret (she really was born in the wrong era), and Nina asked for a briefcase (!). Lily is beguiled by almost anything she sees in a toy shop - a Jemima doll, a Strawberry Shortcake, a real live Minion please! And Ruby just desperately wants an ipod and swears she is about the only (nearly) 12 year old in the whole world not to have one.  I struggle with the whole technology thing. It does seem that most kids her age have something - a pod or pad or phone - that enables them to link in to social media and communicate with each other and by comparison we seem the most ludditish parents on the face of the earth. Lots of schools require an ipad but ours doesn't and so far she has only been able to really engage by using my phone, which obviously I control. I've held the line because I fear that once she has a device of whatever kind, she will disappear into a world of constant texting and surfing.  I don't think she's particularly interested in games, it's Instagram and social connections that fascinate her.  I know that rules around usage can be established, but I suspect that those rules rapidly become a battleground where parents are thrust unwillingly into the role of enforcer. And I'm not even sure what rules are appropriate - how much time is too much? how much privacy is reasonable? where can she take or use the device?

Once she has a device, and I know that it is inevitable eventually, I fear that she will never  again scoot round and round on the deck for hours, making up plays and stories. I worry that she won't write or draw as much - or at all.  I wonder if she'll still play with her sisters (admittedly this only tends to happen now when she is bored, but with a device, perhaps she'll never be bored?). And I am not sure that she will continue to read as much - or at all.  I also wonder whether I am totally overreacting and whether I'll look back on this dilemma in the same way that I look back on worrying about kindergarten and think how ridiculous I was.

The year, to all intents and purposes, is over. Craig and I have finished work, the kids have finished school, the concerts have been performed, the presents bought and wrapped and tomorrow the business of preparing the house and food for Christmas begins. I'm half thinking that if I am super efficient with all of that, I might just have time to quickly rustle up a couple of Christmas dresses afterall.....

FIVE

Lily turned five. It's a big deal, five and takes us well out of the world of very early childhood. There will soon be no more kinder, no more Fridays just the two of us. Before long she'll be reading and making her own bed and expanding her world outside the family. Everything about how I feel about this has already been written - probably throughout the recorded history of humanity -in more eloquent and appropriate words than I could hope to find so I won't indulge my own somewhat divided emotions. Instead I'll record the gorgeous gifts her sisters made for her: Nina a little stuffed bunny that Lily named 'Bunette'; Ruby, who loudly declares that she 'does NOT like sewing' made a little penguin wheat pack, which Lily named 'Penguana'; Grace spent ages constructing a box, with lid, to contain her 'make your own Pikachu necklace' gift. She exhorted Lily several times to 'respect the box'.

I stole the idea for the cake from here and succumbed to Lily's penchent for pokemon with a Pikachu onesie. The big girls made up a treasure hunt for Lily to find their presents - they spent ages coming up with the rhyming clues and the collaboration was not always harmonious, but it paid off in cheap thrills for Lil. It was a kindergarten day so Lily handed out party invitations to her class and we brought in special fruit skewers (cheap thrills for the kinder kids - so easy to please at that age) and she had her little chest puffed out with pleasure and pride. It was a lovely lovely day.

Show Time

There is no doubt we are blessed by the presence of Kim in our home twice a week and more if we are lucky.  She minds the kids but she does so much more than that.  These are the stick puppets she made with Lily, Grace and Nina whilst Ruby was at netball training last week.  I'm particularly fond of the guy with frankfurt hair, Nina's tiny zip-loc bag guy with titchy hat, grace's bow-tie-wearing banana and Lily's baby monster with blue wool hair.

Their stand also doubles as their storage box.  We like boxes a lot in this house.

Little things of no great importance.

Every day a hundred words, a thousand thoughts, a million moments forgotten.  Did the invention of the camera aid or inhibit the process of memory.  Do I remember my newborn's face, or do I just recall the photograph?  

Captured forever: the muddy feet; a completed sunflower stitching; singing in the rain; the end of autumn; taking a bow; preparing for lunch with friends.

I'll look back on these in a year or more and perhaps remember the lunch - we had tuscan bean soup and salad and bread; how kinder was unexpectedly closed so Lily came to work with me; how much Grace and Lily loved making a muddy mess of the newly-dug-up veggie patch; walking to tap class through the autumn leaves, Lily and Grace playing clapping games along the way.

I remember Ruby teaching Nina those clapping games.  I remember Pauline Mak teaching me 'My Name is Aitch Eye Aitch Eye Chicken Boy Chicken Boy Uni Uni Eye Eye Eye' in grade 2.  Back and back it goes.

And a few more years will pass and perhaps I'll forget the lunch and remember only the bowl and the tablecloth. I won't remember who did the stitching but might remember sitting with my girls, helping them pull yarn through hessian.  I won't remember why Grace and Lily are bowing, but will remember that house with the high picket fence and the forget-me-nots that poked through it in the summer, Saturday mornings at tap, watching the Fred Astaires and Suzy Q's be absorbed into little feet and minds.

I wonder how our memories are distorted by photographs.  How the act of capturing that image gives it a disproportionate importance and corrupts the truth. 

Autumn Days

Autumn came upon us in a literal deluge.  I cannot remember when Melbourne was last so wet and drizzly for days on end with no let up.  It's entirely wrong to complain, of course, so be clear that I am not complaining, merely noting the damp conditions.

The damp kept us indoors perhaps more than we would want, and the staying indoors meant we had to find ways to keep entertained using methods other than baiting and taunting.  To be fair, the kids seemed reasonably content with baiting and taunting but I felt my brain might explode.

I loved this sunflower next to the house Lily drew and suggested maybe she do a stitching.

She drew another sunflower which I carefully traced onto hessian for her (she found drawing on hessian difficult).  Lily's kinder has been looking at seeds in some detail so Lily was particular about includng the seeds.

Then she started stitching.  I don't know about other four year olds, but Lily needs very hands on help with this sort of thing.  Pretty much a stitch by stitch reminder of which side to go in - otherwise we end up with big loops of yarn around the embroidery hoop.

We did a bit, took a break, did a bit more, took a break.  She brings it out now, most days, and does a few stitches.  When she is upset or excluded or being annoying to the other girls, I suggest we do a few stitches.  She's done all the petals now, and the seeds. I'll post some photos of her progress when I get around to it.  It's a nice way to spend these autumn days, as we watch the season turn.

Tiny Mice

I walked home yesterday in the gloom. It wasn't late but it gets dark so early. The streets were empty, the snow mostly gone but for a few dirty piles.  I could smell smoke from a wood fire, a smell that reminds me of chilly childhood winter afternoons at my grandparents place, wet shoes, walks in Sherbrooke Forest.  For some reason, wet days and wood smoke make me feel lonely, or perhaps not lonely so much as yearning for a warm house full of people and food to share. It's a funny feeling because of course I was returning to exactly that.

It's been a lazy week for us here in Boston.  After all the excitement of Nana and Pa arriving, Manhattan and Christmas I think we all felt like doing nothing much for a few days. The past week we've visited the Arnold Arboretum (a sort of Botanic Gardens run by Harvard University on a thousand year lease) for a lovely winter walk through their woods, gone ice skating, seen 'Frozen' on a particularly wet and miserable day and had dumplings at our favourite place for xiao long bao.  After a few days I was feeling a bit strange, melancholy nearly, and realised that I hadn't done anything with my hands for some weeks. 

The next day the girls and I made these little felt mice, inspired by a few I saw on Pinterest and in particular one that I can't find anymore so can't include the link. I felt a bit better but am now missing my sewing machine. I'm filling the void by purchasing fabric online...

Up till now we had largely planned our time, but from here till the end of January, we've nothing organised, which is quite exciting as there are so many possibilities.  The weather means a few things are off the table - a ten hour tour of Gettysburg in sub-zero temperatures won't be welcomed by the girls for example- but also puts a few things on the table, like a ski trip to one or more of the many small ski fields New England offers.  Tomorrow is New Years Eve and we will be going along to some of the First Night activities.  I suppose the end of a year always calls for some reflection but I am not yet sure what to make of this year of 2013. Certainly the end has been a highlight, but the rest of it is a bit of a blur. I have much thinking to do about it all before I can adequately summarise it.  For those of you for whom the end of 2013 has already arrived, Happy New Year. Here's to 2014.

The Tree

It's a very different Christmas this year. I have so been looking forward to a white Christmas, and indeed we have snow on the ground and rosy cheeks on the girls. It is lovely. But I had thought that all the time I am spending not working would be available for creating instead.  Of course it hasn't turned out like that. Our trip to the South West took two weeks and we are in New York for the week leading up to Christmas. Back in Boston the weather and lack of a car means it's pretty easy to spend a whole day doing something like buying snow boots for the kids (3 trains each way, a stop for lunch and donuts and it's dinner time upon our return.) I also came here without any kit at all. I've bought scissors, needles and thread as well as some felt and fabric, but with no sewing machine and no permanent work space it is less likely I'll spend the evening sewing as I usually do. So my dream of a tree entirely decorated in hand made ornaments has not been realised. We did spend a snowy Tuesday making felt decorations - you can see the girls efforts above. We've also bought a few decorations as souvenirs, like the American Presidents one above (which I adore),  and our landlord kindly invited us to use some of her decorations, which we found in the basement.  I'm not fussed about the lack of handmade, nor the variance of reality from expectation. I thought somehow in the absence of a long work day I'd be incredibly productive, but actually  I am realising the truth of that saying 'if you want something done, give it to a busy person'. Busy-ness begets efficiency, at least for me. Plus I use sewing as a meditative wind-down from work. In the absence of any stress beyond the perennial search for 'restrooms' that travelling with four young girls invariably entails, I don't seem to have quite the same need to craft. I still want to sew but the need to get a finished object out of it has diminished somewhat. Isn't that curious? Perhaps this is a bit of justification and I have merely fallen into laziness. It's certainly true that I'm falling back into sleeping patterns unknown to me since before children - going to bed in the early hours of the morning, getting up after 9.

Whatever the reason, our tree is unadorned by a single object I've made and, regardless, delights me. It's a fir tree and the look and smell is different from whatever we get at home (pine? I've never    really known).