La Mammina

Magical

Tilly's gingerbread house looks much better than mine, so she gets the close up.

I realised today how much I want to make a magical Christmas for my children. 

It didn't happen as I was baking, icing, sewing, wrapping, trimming or singing.

It was actually during an argument, but I did realise the reason for doing all of those things.

So all you Mums out there who are trying to make a magical, memorable Christmas for your kids, I hope they have a truly wonderful time and that their joy will warm your hearts.

sticky

This was my second attempt at making marshmallows, and I've got to say, I don't think I'll be back for more. I had to drink about 28 cups of tea just to counteract the sweetness from a single mallow. 

And Tilly was almost unable to make it through licking a solitary beater. (Strangely, Feather had no issues with these sickly stickies)

Earlier this month, the very same Feather threw my candy thermometer at the floor and smashed it so I had to improvise my way through the whole sugar syrup stage. You see, you are supposed to take it off the heat once it reaches a certain temperature. This would be firm ball stage which is apparently when a spoonful of syrup dropped in water can form a ball shape. I seemed to progress from thread stage to hard crack stage (somewhere I really didn't want to be) in a matter of nanoseconds. And to say I was made tense by Tilly hovering around watching and asking questions all the while would be a bit of an understatement.

When I announced that we would be making marshmallows, Tilly was excited and said that she wanted to give some away as Christmas goodies to some of our neighbours' kiddies.

A bit of impromptu packaging and we were on our way to deliver.

 

Note Feath's manbag. He put it on himself when he saw that Tilly got to carry the basket. It's a lovely Glomesh one from the dress ups box.

 

Be forewarned. Making marshmallows is sticky work.

holiday handiwork

::monogramed pillow cases for father-in-law and his new wife.

::glass bead bracelets made by Tilly to go in gift packs for grandparents (tags from here)

::home made paper chain and far from blog worthy advent calendars (that are a huge success!!)

red trim

Christmas nightie and pyjama bottoms are now sewn and ready to be worn by the kids.

I got this fabric back in September when I was still working at Tessuti.

I've been hoarding it ever since.

I added some nice little red trims. Like the pom poms on the bottom of the nightie and an embroidered "F" on Feath's little bottoms.

Oh, and I thought the red gingham bias binding on the top of Tilly's nightie was particularly festive.

And a little red and white grosgrain ribbon drawstring. 

And after all that sewing, a nice red, festive, cranberry cocktail is in order.

tender tea

In an effort to keep the expense of Christmas to a minimum, but maximise tenderness, I made some packs of Tilly & Frank Tea to send down to the great-grandparents.

These guys are really hard to buy for, because I don't think they really want for much in material terms, but a little cup of tea with far away great-grandchildren has to rate pretty high.

I'm sure I saw the idea in an old edition of Martha Stewart Living, though they made heart shaped tags to go on the tea bags for Valentine's day.

I did a little photo shoot of the kids against a white door and just printed a whole lot out (on pretty flimsy paper, that I wasn't all that happy with, but you've got to made do with what you've got).

I have a large round craft punch that I got for some project last year, so that took care of the circles.

This was a really good activity in that I could actually involve the kids in doing it as it is so, so simple.

Our production line looked something like this:

Feath really stepped up to the mark and skillfully unravelled all the bags for us. Only a very few were mangled beyond salvation.

Tilly excelled at pasting and sticking.

I was in charge of boxing and holding back over zealous workers.

A photo of each kid was stuck on either side of the tea bag's own tag. So each bag has both kids on it.

I found some little gift boxes at a local newsagent that hold about 15 bags perfectly. All I need to do now is perfect a little "Tilly & Frank Tea" label to stick on the outside of the box.

And yes, we had to sample a cup after all our handiwork. And I can sincerely say, that it tasted much, much sweeter dressed up in it's new tags.

love

love is

:: deciding I wasn't sweaty enough on this muggy Brisbane day then taking the kids for a (learning) bike ride to get even more sweaty

:: letting them sit all over me and snuggle up for stories even when the weather is entirely inappropriate for any bodily contact

:: letting Tilly choose the "love" tree ornament (because it had hearts on it) when I really wanted the "peace" one at an outdoor market that was almost too steamy to stand

:: hot

:: sweaty

And we put up our Christmas tree on Sunday. 35 degrees. humid. 

I wore my underwear. The kids wore nothing. (Did I mention it was too damn hot for clothes here?)

And all the while we breathed in the fresh smell of pine and listened to tunes about riding in sleighs, kissing by the fire and snow laying deep and crisp and even. 

There really is something amiss.

snap shot at 34

Today I celebrated the years. 34 of them to be precise.

Well, I can't say I actually celebrated them, I had a day not too different to any other day of this year.

WARNING: very self indulgent misery to follow

 

04:00 Awake. Worrying about how on earth to ever get rid of our stupid debts. Will we ever have a home of our own?

04:55 Feather awake. Shouts "Mu-u-u-u-ummy!" numerous times.

05:05 Bring him in to our bed for a birthday cuddle. He throws himself around with gay abandon, whacks Dad in the head who lets our a loud disgruntled expletive.

05:06 I get up, taking Feather with me. Miserable that Andrew couldn't even pretend not to be a selfish whinger on my birthday.

08:00 Some hours of diligent care of my children later, Andrew wakes and reminds daughter of my birthday. She runs and shouts a heart felt "Happy Birthday!" in my year. Feather joins in with his own particular rendition of the Happy Birthday song. By this I am touched.

Andrew then presents me with a gift. I unwrap to find two pairs of  (quite frumpy) three quarter pants that I am really sorry to say, but I would never wear. (He had asked me what I wanted for my birthday and I had said a pretty summer dress, not too expensive). I know, I should be grateful. But it really makes me wonder what he thinks of me.

Some more hours later children and I depart the house. Grocery shopping and exchanging birthday gifts on the agenda.

Arrive at the craziest, biggest, most scary shopping centre I have ever seen. (vow only to do Christmas shopping at opposite end of the spectrum). Struggle the entire two hours I am there. From finding a parking spot in the quite ridiculous parking stations, to sheltering the eyes of the children from too much tacky stuff (though I let them both ogle the dolls at a little stand set up 50's hospital nursery style, staff dressed in nurses uniforms, baby dolls all lined up behind a big window in plastic hospital cribs).

Line up in Kmart to pay off a lay-by but find out once I reach the counter that I can only pay off lay-by at the actual Kmart where I made the original purchase. You know, the usual really brain numbing, soul destroying stuff like that.

Find the shop to exchange the not so flattering (beige and grey) pants. Try on a number of dresses, none fit. Too big, too small, too blegh. 

Put my own clothes back on, muttering to myself "on with my old brown dress" and carry on with the hideous commercial onslaught of Westfield Chermside, complete with scalding and tasteless coffee and kids clamouring for a spin on the coin operated rides.

You can imagine my disgust with the day so far, but then on my way out of the centre an elderly lady rushes up behind me, stops me and says "Excuse me, but I just had to tell you...you look really good in that dress".

I kid you not. I was chuffed. I said thank you and she was on her way.

Such a timely piece of good cheer!

From then on I didn't even get frazzled when I lost my way home on the foreign roads of Brisbane.

Nor did I bat an eye lid when Tilly did the biggest wee you can imagine on the floor of the fruit and veg shop on the next leg of my shopping day.

I didn't get home in time to escape yet another huge thunderstorm. Got drenched. But what did I care. A stranger came up to me to tell me how good I looked in my old brown dress! 

And to make things better a little envelope arrived in my post box. 

A voucher to a day spa.

A present from my two best friends. They'd organised it all the way from Sydney.

I love them. 

And my old brown dress.

    

red

He loves to read. He really does, with me and all by himself.

But sometimes he gets distracted by his shoes. Like all good kiddies.

It's the 1st of December today. We cracked out the advent calendar (just a plain open the window one. No fancy craft work here, because do you know, the thrill they get from something so simple is second to none. No need for intricate planning of clever scheduled activities, unattainable ornament making, excessive cost or overworked sentiment. Just good old fashioned anticipation, with a tiny bit of oh so elusive chocolate to sweeten the deal).

I feel like I've failed Craft/Mothering Blogging 101 for admitting that, but seriously the kids think it is The.Absolute.Best.Thing.In.The.World. and how can I deny them that?

I also put a wreath on the door. I've been dying to do that for a long time. I haven't done it before for many reasons, but this year I decided it was time to do something just for me. I got a very tasteful one, that I love very much. It's made from real leaves. I went out on my own today, and when I got home, I noticed some red detritus hanging from my oh so perfect wreath. On closer inspection, I realised it was some sort of kid craft. And there was Tilly, proudly pointing it out to me. It was a sweet, lopsided decoration made by one of her little pals back in Sydney and sent up by post which came while I was out. And while my design aesthetic was vying to take it off, Tilly was so thrilled, and how can I deny her that?

So it's clean lined, tasteful wreath with jolly kiddy frill at our place.

And, can you believe it? We haven't ever played Christmas carols out our place since before Andrew and I were married. I know I'm a bit of a cynic, and he seems to have some sort of allergic reaction to them, but I feel like I need them now. And I know I can't deny the children the simple joy of Christmas carols. So I reaped a veritable treasure from iTunes and now I feel so much more jolly. And Tilly has picked them up so quickly. Though her version of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" gives me pause when she shouts out "SO BE GOOD FUCKOODNESS SAKE". Help!  I plead innocence...it's my husband that uses the vulgar language. 

As Tilly says " 'Sugar!' is ok isn't it Mum?"

As you may have guessed, I'm not what you could call spiritual. But I suppose any cynicism I have is a bit of a front, and I have been known to be quite sentimental at times and it is because of all this that I find myself in a bit of a quandary. 

How do I explain Christmas to my children? It can't just be about getting lots of presents.

I asked the child that can actually articulate thought (as opposed to the one that mutters the same word with different inflections to mean a variety of things jis (this), jis (push), jis (shoes) and so on and so forth, mind you he does shout, very clearly "cra-a-a-ack" for crakers. he just loves crack...what sort of children am I raising????)

So yes, I asked Tilly what she thought Christmas was. 

Her response?

"When you get lots of presents"

And?

"When you get to eat chocolate"

And?

"Ummmmm, (silence)...... when you celebrate the year"

Oh thank you, thank you for having just a little substance my dear girl. But we are going to have to work on the meaning of Christmas.

This is what I think.., and I have actually only tried to put feelings into words this afternoon. Because I want to explain it to them, and I want to explain it right...but it is very hard and it's going to take a bit of work.

Christmas is definitely time to celebrate. Rejoice even.

For the fact that life can be very good really.

And if we want to look at tradition, the fact that a little baby might be born in a bed of straw and yet still bring immense joy to loving parents is something to revere.

That is what sums up Christmas to me, love that human kind can have for a tiny baby. The thrill of new life. Becoming and belonging to a family, no matter how humble the beginnings. 

Family.

Now to find the words to explain it to a four and half year old. So it is not all about "when you get lots of presents"

hey, this was good

If you happen to go down to the GoMA (Gallery of Modern Art) at Southbank, and you happen to get a bit peckish, it is quite nice to go down to the River Cafe and get a little something to eat. And there you will find the tables adorned with the art work of Arlene TextaQueen about near naked brides and pots of Textas for you to colour with.

Tilly immediately went for the huge 5 tier wedding cake to colour in. I filled in the face under one of the veils and Feather just stuffed his face with food.

We took the artwork home to finish off with paints. And might I say, it is not looking very bridal anymore.

Alone...and bananas

My husband works long hours. And he works the entire weekend. Today, Sunday, for example, he left the house at about 8:30am and he is still not home twelve hours later.

Usually I am fine with it. I enjoy being with my children and we have some fun times. But the weekend is tough. Other people are usually off doing family things with their own families. Scheduled activities aren't usually scheduled for Sundays and here in a city where I am a stranger, there are no family lunches to lump up to. 

So I've got to make Sundays easy on myself. And that means being a fun Mum, so that the children are happy all day, so I don't feel miserable. Today I decided it would be pancakes for lunch. Because that is fun. And yummy. And always a winner.

There were also some rather sad looking bananas in the fruit bowl, so I incorporated them into the fun.

So I made a thick American style pancake batter, and just as the surface was bubbling to tell me to turn them over, I placed a thin layer of banana slices (oh yeah, and some mango) on to the batter and then sprinkled with brown sugar.

Flip!

A lovely caramel crust ensues and they are some damn fine pancakes.

The kids think so too. Especially because theirs came with ice cream.