Deranged Bunny

 

Dear Mister Easter Bunny, 

Hi how are you? I was just wondering if you could take a photo of yourself on the camera please. And not to be rude or anything, but people say, and there is this movie about what I am about to say called Hop. Does Easter Bunny, you, digest and drop jelly beans out of your backside? Because if it is true can you please do it.

PS You are the best

I will also leave you a carrot

Jack xxoo

 

Jack, who mostly behaves like a world weary ten year old bad ass gangsta rapper, decided to write the Easter Bunny a note.  This suggests that perhaps he still is a child under that tough and cool exterior and that he may still hold onto the vague hope that myths such as EB and Santa might just be real.

However, his innocent and sweet intentions were set to ruin upon the discovery that his seven year old brother had already marked the other side of the page with the following depiction of me:

That's me! Flipping the bird. Naked. Leaking breasts. Dilated pupils. Definitely not a vajazzle in sight. Let's face it, looking pretty unhinged and deranged.

Jack and I were equally disturbed by the discovery of this image and for entirely different reasons. We did however both agree that Easter Bunny probably wouldn't like it and that it might be a good idea to re-write the note on a clean sheet of paper.

The kids discovered this morning that EB doesn't drop jelly beans but bullets instead. It's an Aussie thing.

I've discovered what I really look like through the eyes of my children and have been considering a course of therapy to recover some semblance of sanity and positive self image.

Going for Good

Are you going for good?

I get asked this regularly.  But I am not sure what it really means.  I guess it means; you ain't coming back for a while, are you?  And I guess the answer is probably; no, I guess we ain't.

However, the term 'for good' has such a ring of permanence to it.  I feel that by answering yes we are somehow bound to the decision, we can never return, re-neg or rebound.  Stuck forever in that place we choose to go.

But aren't we all in a state of impermanence?  Anicca.

" Anicca is a Pali word for "impermanent." The Buddha taught that everything conditioned is impermanent. To be conditioned is to be dependent on or affected by something else, and Buddhism teaches that all phenomena, including beings, are conditioned.

The transitory nature of all conditioned things is the basis of life. Because all phenomena are in a state of flux, change is possible. New life is possible, and enlightenment is possible, because of anicca."

As a child I travelled quite a lot.  I don't find the notion of moving house, town or country particularly stressful.  Our reasons for moving weren't motivated by poverty or misfortune.  My experience was always one of adventure and excitement.  I felt safe and secure wherever we went.  I come from a long line of professional global shifters.  Most of the male members of our family having served in the Air Force and others being adventurous entrepreneurs.  All the women adept in packing up house.

So we shift again to the other side of the globe.  The only thing I won't do next time is ship the entire contents of my house.  Travelling light is the key to this global shape shifting gig.

I have had a bit of advice lately on what to take and what to off load.  Some say take only the items that have a real purpose.  In this they refer to something practical I am sure.  But I can't overlook the value in an emotional connection to the pieces we surround ourselves with at home.

This chest of drawers some would argue is completely expendable and readily replaced.

But I created the story behind it.  I salvaged the drawers, then lovingly restored and painted them with a beautiful Farrow and Ball colour.  They also fit perfectly in the alcove beside the bed in our London home.

And what for the trinkets and pictures on top?  They all have meaning and history.  They remind us of who we are and where we have come from.

A friend once suggested that having a single item of furniture that travels with us from home to home would give the kids a sense of continuity.

The piece I chose to fill this job is our kitchen table.  Perhaps a rather large and cumbersome choice I will admit, but there is more to it.

A slab of European oak made to measure.  Slightly wider than the usual measurement and about 6ft long.  A wide matching bench runs down one side to squeeze lots of kiddies upon.  The chairs I recently salvaged and renovated myself.

More than the obvious practical purpose of the table there runs a romantic notion too.  The idea to have one central bit of furniture around which family life evolves.  The focal point for family activities, the heart and soul of the home.

What better item than a kitchen table?  Of course it rarely looks like the photo suggests.  It's usually covered in stuff, the dumping ground, both literally and metaphorically.  It sees and hears everything this table.  It's been around the world!

My romantic vision sees this table staying with us forever.  I am not sure it's even made so well to stand up to the expectations I have put upon it.  Nor do I treat it so well that it should want to stay with us forever.

But already after less than five years the surface is marked with time and memory.  Ink marks and scratches and stains that connect us to our past and remind us of who we are and where we have been, that root us to the place, wherever that might be.

So in packing up this home my guidelines will conform to not only the practical uses for the items selected but their true value in terms of connecting us to our home and to our past, and providing the comfort and stability that allow us to accept and conquer the challenges that lie ahead.

How do you travel? What are your packing guidelines?

Kookaburra friends

Grateful for....

As I was hanging up yet another load of washing on this fine and glorious day (which incidentally I am very grateful for; the sunshine and being able to get a tonne of washing done) a strange and totally foreign thought entered my mind.

I wasn't feeling the usual dread at the imminent arrival of my Mother-in-Law but rather a sense of relief. And believe me, 'relief' and 'Mother-in-Law' are certainly not concepts which usually go together when contemplating the arrival.

But you see she is arriving with a task already laid out for which she may apply herself contentedly. Brad slashed his foot in a surfing accident yesterday afternoon. Foot and leg injuries are his forte.

Instead of spending my Friday night curled up with a glass of red and a good movie I was in fact at the local A&E awaiting the patient to emerge. And emerge he did with a giant bandage and multiple stitches and strict instruction not to move about very much for 3 days.

School holidays. Crippled husband. Things weren't looking promising. But alas our very own nurse maid is soon to arrive. For this I am grateful. Although maybe I am speaking too soon.

On a metaphysical or spiritual level the feet are all to do with one's connection to Mother Earth. Or the Mother! Injuries can represent our fear of moving forward, literally slowing us down and perhaps making us take a deeper look.  Also they are said to be the storage location for old grief and resentments, stored in the feet far away from the heart.

"Louise Hay suggests that feet represent our understanding of ourselves, of Life, and others, and toes represent minor details of the future." Compassionate Dragon

And I am always grateful for delving beneath the surface and conquering fear, releasing blockage and understanding ourselves on a deeper level.

As usual this is all part of Maxabella's Grateful blog hop, check it out.

Have a GREAT weekend.

Bedazzling down under

 image care of http://www.reviveme.com.au/vajazzling/

There’s been a recent wave of blog posts dedicated to the new black of vagina grooming (here and here and this one is hilarious).  That is: Vajazzling.  Otherwise known as bedazzling your private bits, as brought to the wider global audience thanks to Jennifer Love Hewitt.   So I thought I would join the bandwagon.

I initially posted a little status update and link on my FB page earlier this week, I won't link that here as it's a little inappropriate and might attract the wrong kind of audience.  Needless to say there was a huge response in the comments section.  The whole idea really captured the collective imagination.

My errant husband returns from an epic 6 week trip abroad tomorrow.  He hasn’t seen a vajajay in a while.  I am not sure he could care less about the vajazzle, and quite frankly I doubt he’d even notice in the initial frenzy that possesses a deprived man.  That’s not to say I didn’t prepare myself to a suitably presentable standard.  It’s the least I could do.

But when a friend mentioned he’d been ‘Pejazzling’ for some time now I began to question just how far I’d slipped off the fashion radar.  I spotted my daughters jar of craft jewels and a stick of UHU and considered the possibilities. 

In searching around on google, it's amazing what you can discover.  And although I took the 'pejazzle' comment with a grain of salt, I did actually come across a rather disturbing image and the insightful information that it's set to be the European summer's biggest trend.  

So guys, if you are keen to add a bit of swarovski brilliance to your sword, game is on!   It's like the stuff of fairy tales.  The story of the Knight in shining armour and his jewel encrusted sword.  He is the envy of all the land.  The combination of his talented swordsmanship and magical tool leave all that encounter his brilliance quivering in anticipation and awe.  It's the stuff dreams are made of.

But until now it seems us ladies have been the only ones putting ourselves under enormous pressure and physical pain to keep our landscape design up with the latest trends.

One of my favourite photographers Rankin, who is way ahead of his time and also loves a good vagina shot, may have hit on a more achievable home style vajazzle experience.  Let's call it the vajsprinkle.  

Easy to achieve with a few commonly found household products.  Best of all it's totally edible.  That's got to add a little more spice than a couple of fake diamonds.  It also removes the need for all those pesky questions about what happens when the hair starts sprouting again or if the guys hair gets all tangled up around the crystals.

So if you are seeking a new experience look no further than the baking section of your local supermarket and get vajsprinkling today!

Grateful For Boys

This week I posted this photo and comment on my Facebook page.

My daughter Suki. She astounds me daily with her wisdom, beauty, creativity, humour, generosity, intelligence, ingenuity, originality, care, thoughtfulness and OH so many things.

But today I am grateful for boys.  For boys and their untrappable, endless energy. 

At a skating event today the air of anticipation was palpable as the town's boys and young men mulled about waiting to take the stage.  Soaring through the air on thin planks of wood.  Impressing us all with their skill and bravery.  Encouraging and supporting each other through the highs and lows.   

I wanted to bottle the collective spirit and energy in that space.  You could seriously run a small town on the force that runs through boys veins.

Living with boys in your life is often like living with your heart permanently in your throat.  Boys do stupid stuff all the time.  They leap and dive and somersault.  They keep on going and going, often surviving on what seems like little more than air.  But don't get me wrong, at some point the pain in their stomachs will override and they will eat you out of house and home.

I love their vibrancy.  Their vest for life and adventure.  Their curiosity and bravery.  I love their uncomplicated mateship and sense of competitiveness.

There is nothing better than sharing a space with boys doing what they were meant to do. 

And I also love that they all, young and old, still need a hug and a smooch from their Mum from time to time.

This is part of Maxabella's Grateful blog hop, check it out.

Bedtime Stories

Bedtime reading can sometimes be yet another chore to attend to at the end of the day.  All depends on the book really.  We have an overflowing bookshelf.  Books were cheap in London.  Some of these books have been read and read and read.  To death.  In fact a couple of them I can hardly bare to look at.  Not because they are dreadful.  But because I have now been reading them for nearly 10 years.  The old favourites.  I can read them in my sleep, the pictures and words become like a psychedelic experience swirling around in my dreams.

One such book is YOU CHOOSE by Nick Sharratt and Pippa Goodhart .

For anyone who reads this blog and has been a visitor in my home at anytime, there is a good chance you have been introduced to this one, accosted by my children to read this book with them.  Again, again!  Full of colour and quirky drawings, it asks the reader to become involved by choosing their own adventure from a wonderful selection of scenarios.  An exciting book, great for encouraging a love of reading.  The first page asks: If you could go anywhere, where would you go?

It goes on to let you to choose your own character and friends, your home and outfits and jobs.

Every time the book is read you can choose a totally different life.

For my kids this book has never ever lost its appeal, even my 10 year old will still give this one a stab, and it's been hanging around for years.  But there are some days I just can't face reading this one now, the kids understand and graciously put it away.

Another favourite which appeals to my toilet humour is: The Story of the Little Mole who knew it was None of his Business, by Werner Holzwarth/Wolf Erlbruch.

Must be a German thing, as it's verging on rather un PC in our culture.  In fact I read that it was originally banned in the US when it was first published in 1964.  The little mole starts out perplexed and rather annoyed to find something has pooed on his head.

The rest of book follows his journey to discover who exactly has done this on his head.  He asked various other animals: Did you do this on my head?

Each animal then explains that it couldn't have been them, and then follows an explanation of how these animals poo.

Finally, with the help of some knowledgeable flies, he finds the culprit and executes his revenge.  See, it's totally un PC to condone the revenge, but it is brilliant and matter of fact (as only Germans can be) and appeals to the potty humour in us all, young and old.  It is also quite educational .  It was a primary school teacher who gave this book to our family.  I still find enjoyment in this story after all these years.

My most recent favourite is: Beware of the Frog by William Bee.

I discovered this book when I was in London last year in one of my all time favourite book shops, the Tate Modern bookshop.  A place to wile away an hour or two in absolute bliss.  I didn't really read the story when I bought it, I just really loved the retro style artwork.

It turned out to be such a cute story.  Little Mrs Collywobbles lives near a big dark scary forest and only has her trusty frog to protect from all the nasty creatures that emerge from forest to do her harm.  With funny catchy little verses and a surprising conclusion it has become a family favourite.

Lucien took it into school to read to his class and the book stayed for a term.  It was so popular with his class that they turned into a play that was performed in front of the school.

William Bee's website is lovely and I am pleased to find he was written a couple of other books I am now keen to track down, especially the one about the little boy who can only say 'Whatever'.  Reminds me of the story of Pierre by Maurice Sendak.  "Even when a hungry lion comes to pay a call, Pierre won't snap out of his ennui. Every child has one of these days sometimes."  Sometimes?  How about everyday in this house!

What are your family favourites?