Tag Habits

Just when you think you have disappeared into blog obscurity a complete stranger/new blog friend tags you. Thank you My Poppet. What a beautiful blog and shop you have. This tag is all about facts/habits ... not sure how interesting I will be. I haven't jumped out of planes or anything extreme like that , but here goes ...

Rules of the tag

A. Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves.
B. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
C. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog....

1. Fact. I am an atheist. But I used to sing in a gospel choir and my son's name means Jesus.

2. Habit. I have the habit of leaving things, like quilts, housework and sentences, unfinished.

3. Fact. I have a degree with a double major in Classics and a Graduate Certificate in Management. I don't ever want to be a manager, I'd rather be a Classic.

4. Old Habits. I used to drink and smoke. A LOT. Now my lungs are pristine and I am practically a teetotaller.

5. Fact. I went to England, Greece and France with my parents when I was 15 and haven't been overseas since.

6. Habit. I spend money I should be saving for overseas holidays.

7. Fact. I cried at the end of Karate Kid and when my 6 year old ran the cross country at school without stopping and was so proud of himself. I also cried when, last Christmas surrounded by my large family, a friend asked him what he liked best about Christmas and he replied, unprompted " Spending time with my family."

8. Habit. I cry at only the cheesiest/schmultziest occasions.

Tag
Sooty
Moo
The Flyleaf
Lingofranko
Kim
Cosy
Sassyfrassy

I only have seven boggers to tag.

Two Ain't Enough

My little guy turned two. Yippee.

I said to him in the morning " Baby, you are two years old!"

and he said to me "Yeh, two is enough."

I think this is much more true of biscuits than birthdays.

Two birthdays ain't even close to enough.

The luthier outdid himself with the Sean the Sheep cake. It went over a treat.

Also a photo of our changing family. We love Sun Kyeong (Aunty Sunny)

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Daddy Awesome Motorbike

Daddy has a scooter.
It's not just a scooter its "Daddy's awesome Motorbike".

The Bolwell Arriba 125 - 125 ccs of 'awesome' power.

How five of us are going to fit on the scooter, I'm not sure, but Daddy does have a glint of freedom in his eyes. He keeps offering to go to the shop.
Hmmm ... lucky he can't go very far or very fast on his 'awesome motorbike' or he may be in the Bahamas by now.

Names Names Names

Still struggling with the luthier to reach a resolution on the baby girl's name.
He wants to call her Bubbles.
Bubbles Smith. Sounds like a lap dancer.

Actually he has been quite keen on the burlesque names - Fifi, Gigi etc.


I still like Noa.

WifeMotherDaughterSister

What else is a blog for if not self-indulgent thoughts.
This is me thinking about myself.

I am the proud wife of the surly luthier with art in his hands and a passion for his family and Harry Potter.

I am the proud mother of an older, deep thinking son with a passion for rock and a young son with his father's fancy hands and a passion for swearing( "Bullshit! PooBumWee!"). A daughter is on her way and I can't wait to meet her.

I am the proud sister of a complex, hilarious, busy, mad and extraordinary group of six sibling who surround, teach, torture and entertain me. ( Brother Sister)

I am the proud daughter of an exceptional father who spent 40 years saving lives for a living.

I am the proud daughter of a mother who raised us, seven flawed and fabulous people and endured and loved our exceptional father.

I am the aunt of 4 truly unique individuals and I sense the enormous potential of their lives with every breath that I take in their presence.

Family is everything to me.
Mother is my vocation. A strange and tenuous position in this culture of "more".
I have fought it, despised it, tried to replace it. Now I relish it.

I have battled with what I am not long enough.

And when my son, who is not yet two, looks up into my proud eyes lovingly and with all the passion and enthusiasm he can muster cries " Bullshit!"....

I smile.

Sevens

The year is 2007.
My mother turned 70 while my father turned 77 on the 16 ( 1+6=7).
They had 7 children and in this year 2007 I will give birth to their 7th grandchild.


Is 7 a magic number?

Confinement

Handsome guys. Big cousin Noah and the J.
I want to call the baby Noa, but the Smiths think it will be too confusing to have two Noahs in the extended family.

All the good names have been taken.


Nearly 22 weeks of my confinement gone. Now I know why they refered to it as confinement, the urge to stay indoors, curl up and hibernate is very strong.

My thinking brain has gone on holidays and there is just the vague, float-through-the-days brain left. I experience the occasional existential crisis in regard to achieving nothing, telling myself Dead-Poet's style that " I gotta do more, gotta be more", but action does not follow. I am not writing, quilting, knitting, socialising or reading.
Just floating.

School holidays have been fun and I am loving my sons very much. Sacha is talking a LOT. He stands beside me as I type saying "Uppeees. ( up please). Sacha play 'puter. Daddy Mummy's bed. Baseball bat. Nuffin. Tissue." A strange, seemingly non sequitor dialogue, which is in fact, not a bad description of what he sees around him.

Other favourite sayings are "Pack Away." "Bit noisy". "All done" and "Daddy work".
He says a lot of these things with his nose scrunched up like he is wearing 'a turd for a brooch', as his Granny would say.

J has been having holiday fun with cousins, Granny and Aunties. Have organised at least one play date for him this week with a buddy. The Family hordes will descend next weekend for my Mother's 70th birthday, it might be good for him to hang about with some normal..., uh, I mean, other people for a while.

Looking forward to the party and seeing old family friends and meeting their offspring.
Hopefully I will have amusing tales of inappropriate behaviour to entertain you with afterwards.

Little Lady

It's a girl!

I can't believe it.

The ultrasound was truly brilliant. Me and all the smith boys went in to see the new little sister in action. She is a very normal, and very active little lady. Yippee! The relief that no abnormalities were detected is huge, although traditionally my kids wait till they are born to manifest their unique and interesting illnesses.

Granny and I ran to the shops as soon as we found out the gender. I didn't go too crazy on the pink and flowery gear, but let's just say that their is now a smocked frock in the house.


Something weird happened that took me a little by surprise. We had only known the sex of the baby for two days and I experienced two separate occasions where people speculated on the baby's potential "figure". Not, will she look like you or Phil, or will she look like her brothers but what sort of "figure" she would have. I am gobsmacked and appalled. Is this all it boils down to for a chick. Whether she has a big arse, short legs, looks like a whippet?

Cut her some slack on the promotion of a fucked-up-body- image, ladies, she is not even born yet.

Minibreak

No, I didn't take any photos on our minibreak with our beloved friends to the east coast of the island. I could attempt to describe the pristine white sand of the beach where we played and its aquamarine wasters. I could also attempt to describe the damp rainforest beauty of the waterfalls we took the children to see. Both were experiences of our beautiful island at its best.

However attempting to describe the decor of our budget accommodation is utterly out of the question. Words fail me. I'll just say that it was like how my husband describes the town we live in "It's shit but its cheap." And cheap is good.

The kids had a blast. The growns up were tired (as all parents of young'uns are) but, speaking at least for myself, were very happy to be in each other's company.

Here are some photos of the sites we saw that I have ... ahem, 'borrowed' from the internet.

It gives you an idea of the .... serenity.

My guys and my guts

So here are the latest pics from our trip to visit Aunty D. She takes a beaut pic.

We had a lovely Anzac break in the south of the island. Aunty D spoiled us and happens to cook the finest lamb chops in christendom.

However we stayed an extra day. We wagged.

The luthier wagged his luthier-ing, J and hospital S both wagged school and I wagged my appointment.

"No big deal", I hear you say, "You can always make another hospital appointment". Unfortunately , on the island, things are not so easy. It will take 7 weeks for me to get another appointment at which point I will be more than halfway through my 'confinement'. Grouse! The island's antenatal clinic is obviouslyworking overtime to accommodate all the bogans having their 'plasma' babies .

Lucky I am not freaking out that nooone has checked that there is only one baby inside my rapidly growing gut. Just to be sure I am off to the gp for an ultrasound referal.

Mother Helps

This morning I went into J's school for my first ever effort as mother's help. Very interesting it was too. I lead a reading group, the 'high flyers' , one of which was, of course, my son. It blew me away. J could only read his name a few months ago and now those kids are cooking with gas. I had to move through the activities bloody quickly to keep them from getting bored because it was too easy. Very impressive. The good old state education system seems to be coming up trumps. Thank goodness!

However, I do think there should be a law against parents making up there own novelty names for their kids. J's class is full of such a strange assortment of name concoctions - Jyron, Tynelle, Arlia, Saber? Bizarre.


We have no firm idea about names for smith baby number 3. All suggestions gratefully received.
Except any from the list above.

First Day of School

Well. My little guy started childcare today at the tender age of 1 and a half. It was not a heart wrenching moment in which child was torn from his mother's anguished breast. We took him in said "We'll be back soon" and he continued to play without giving us a second glance.

Very clingy and dependent my sons. NOT.

So here I sit with some time to myself. Free time. I am using it wisely by sitting in the luthier's shop listening to him scrape wood, blogging and wondering whether I want a bagel with my english breakfast tea this morning. This activity very successfully puts off all the awful jobs I have to do like go home and wash up or go and get my blood test done. EEEEEEYEEEW!

So from now on I will have two mornings of GG time. Time all to myself. I will have to get a life of some description in order to fill up these precious 7 hours with fabulous GG fun.
Or just go home and do the washing up.

It's been a long time since I ....

did anything other than vomit. Is the real end to that sentence for me.
The good news is that I am nearly 14 weeks up the duff and the hideous 6 or 7 weeks of vomiting is coming to an end. You poor ladies who get it for the duration of your 'confinement'. Sooooo depressing.

Anyhoo, getting better now and starting to get a life.

My Bubble

My Bubble.


I have made a perfect bubble and I like to live inside.
A shiny, perfect bubble, in which I like to hide.

Inside my pristine bubble I place everything just so.
Ted sits on my quilted bed, my toys stand in a row.

From in my crystal bubble it is very clear to see
that my special little bubble is perfect, just for me

No one ever comes inside my bubble just for me.
Although I guess, it could be nice to have a friend for tea.

Inside my precious bubble, a friend could come for fun.
A friend and me could play and laugh and jump and bump and run.

But,

they might make a dreadful mess, I don't think I could take it.
They might jumble bubble up, or even worse, might break it.

So in my bubble, all alone, I will stay inside.
For if my bubble were to burst, then where would I hide?

CopyrightGS2007