hurly_burly: (Default)
We went to a wedding last weekend, and Small Girl excelled herself as flowergirl. She took her duties very seriously and, with the help of the ring-bearer, denuded the azalea out the front of the hall in order to distribute flowers to everybody during the reception. She was at her charming, chatty best, and I have rarely been more proud of her than shortly after the bride tossed the bouquet.

My dear friend J caught it, and gave her girfriend a celebratory snog. Small Girl crowed delightedly and announced that she was going to be flowergirl when they get married, too.

This has been followed this evening by her removing her Ken doll's clothing and squeezing him into one of Barbie's spangly pink mini-dresses instead.

I only hope her unthinking openmindedness doesn't get eroded at school.
hurly_burly: (Default)
Oh, bollocks...

So, some friends of mine are getting married, and they've asked SG to be flower girl. Lovely! I don't even need to buy a foolishly expensive and impractical frou-frou dress for her, as the wedding will have a medieval theme and they've asked that she be dressed in a blue and yellow Renaissance outfit. Easy!

Now, these friends have been talking about getting married for years, and actually set the date more than six months ago, so in my head their wedding day is AGES AWAY.

Except that it's not, obviously, it's this Saturday. And no, I haven't started making that dress...

EEP.

Anyway, I now have a bodice cut out of blue cotton drill, and a chemise cut out of rather fabulous cream-coloured linen printed with butterflies. I'm waiting on Blondie to bring some yellow drill home so I can cut out a skirt, which will be box-pleated and attached to the bodice to make a quick-and-dirty waist-seamed kirtle. This would all be so much easier if I was allowed near the sewing machine...
hurly_burly: (Double double toil and trouble)
*closes eyes*

Big deep breath.

She is a strong-willed, intelligent little girl who knows her own mind and is capable of sticking to her guns to get what she wants. These are all good traits in an adult, and if I manage to get her through her childhood and adolescence with them intact then I will have done my job.

But, Jesus Fucking Christ, sometimes I wish she'd just do what I ask her to do without turning it into a fight. She digs her heels in and argues the point over everything. Even tings that she actually wants to do, she'll fight me over just for the sake of it.

*tears hair*

And the attitude she's picked up at school! I am not impressed. I was describing Small Girl's behaviour to a friend of mine, and she nodded and said that yes, her daughter behaves like that too. Of course, her daughter is 13 years old...

It's exhausting, frankly. The whole day is a series of negotiations oer everything from what to have for breakfast to getting dressed, when the telly gets switched off, what to have for morning tea, tidying up, what to have for lunch, why I don't want her to drag all of her dresses out of the wardrobe every afternoon and leave them lying all over the floor, wat to have for afternoon tea, why she can't watch the same movie twice in one afternoon, why she can't have peanut butter sandwiches for dinner every day, why she has to wash her hair at least once a week because otherwise it's just disgusting, blah blah blah. My head hurts, and my throat aches from talkingtalkingtalking all bloody day.

On the other hand, she is clever and funny, and tells fabulous stories. In between arguments she is incredibly affectionate and cuddly, and it is lovely snuggling up on the couch reading books together. I just adore her, and it more than makes up for the times when I wish I could just gaffer tape her mouth shut.
hurly_burly: (Default)
Vile weather! It has been so dark and damp here lately that my car now has moss growing on it.

However, the snowdrops and daffodils are out, and there is new growth on the blackcurrant and gooseberry bushes and on the Cox's Orange Pippin my father gave to Small Girl for her birthday. The apricot and pear trees, alas, have not survived the winter and the depredations of the goats.

Speaking of the caprine population of our block, we have three news kids. Two girls named Lucy and Daffodil, and a boy destined to be sold as a lawnmower. They are very small and bleaty :)

A dear friend of mine sent me a care package from Sydney. In it were some clothes for Small Girl, a weaning set made of recylced materials for Squish, a box of coloured modelling beeswax, and various edible treats. Tunnock's Tea Cakes now own my soul.

We're heading to Victoria to visit Blondie's parents tomorrw.

*sobs at thought of no internets for a week*

They are staunch Liberal supporters, and I fear his father will be in full rant mode. JOY. I shall suck it up, for the sake of the quiet life (and because, despite Blondie's accusations, I AM NOT ARGUMENTATIVE, DAMNIT!). We're going mosy through the Vic Markets on saturday morning before driving out his his parent's house, and I'm hoping we make it back to the city on wednesday in time to have coffee with a friend before we board the boat home.

I recently made some toys for Squish - a pompom, a couple of wet-felted woolen balls, a teething ring, and a mobile to hang above her bed. When I can, I'll post some pictures :)

Hurly Burly, over and out.
hurly_burly: (Default)
( You're about to view content that the journal owner has advised should be viewed with discretion. )
hurly_burly: (Default)
Hokay, first off, a meme!

A. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
B. Tag seven people to do the same.
C. Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag "whoever wants to do it."

1) I was not allowed to watch the Muppets as a child.

2) I am easily led into temptation (ask [livejournal.com profile] blamebrampton!)

3) I have a not-very-sekrit-anymore love of figure skating (as a spectator; I am hiariously crap at ice-skating).

4) Next week (or is it the week after?) I get to help make sausages, ham, pancetta, and blood sausage out of pigs we've raised ourselves. So excited!

5) I love tzatziki, to an almost unreasonable degree.

6) I wish I could send my daughter to a Rudolph Steiner school, but the closest one is 300km away :(

7) I should sew more garb, and write less fanfic.

And I tag...[livejournal.com profile] snipribbon, [livejournal.com profile] faeryteeth, [livejournal.com profile] tyra88, [livejournal.com profile] mrsbrown, [livejournal.com profile] counter_ermine, [livejournal.com profile] astemudfoot, and [livejournal.com profile] cassiphone.


I am currently sewing a chemise (well, until I got distracted by LJ), and being appalled by Sanctuary. IT IS SO BLOODY BAD!

Next week I shall be officially 'full term', which means we begin a few weeks of any-minute-now waiting before all the excitement begins! I'm really looking forward to meeting this little person :)

I'm going to bake a chocolate Guinness cake when we get home on Sunday. SO yummy! It is not, under any circumstances, bribery for getting people to paint the spare room ;)

And that's all for tonight, because I have to go to the loo yet again!
hurly_burly: (Default)
I must be doing something right, the Small Girl is being a ballerina pirate captain today. Pink tutu, pirate hat with feather, gumboots when we go outside.
I think I largely have Stardust to thank for this, as SG is inordinately fond of the crossdressing Captain Shakespeare.
Also, last week she sat on my lap and announced that sometimes, boys marry girls, and sometimes boys marry other boys. And sometimes they wear dresses.

In other news, we had an antenatal clinic appointment yesterday, and everything is going swimmingly. I like the midwife a little bit less with each visit, but meh.
My feet are really sore, as a result of arthritis and a bone spur, and Brammers has pointed out that I should just go and get some painkillers, so I'm off to talk to the pharmacist later on this morning about what I'm allowed to take.

We have four or five chooks wandering around with chicks at the moment. So much peeping! I hope their mothers don't let them all die again.

Putting one last bit of undercoat on the bathroom walls today, then the actual painting can start! Hurrah!

Riht, shower, clothes, painkillers, chores...
hurly_burly: (Default)
Oh, dear. I have done a foolish thing. I have booked flights to go to this (which is being held in Melbourne about two weeks after the baby's due). Because I am an idiot. And because Gareth David-Lloyd is going to be there. It is all the fault of [livejournal.com profile] blamebrampton and [livejournal.com profile] pseudicide.
I have put a coat of paint on the new bathroom, and bought new pages for my diary for next year.
I have also bought some more stuff for the baby, and have decided to use Eenee Eco Nappies (or at least try, dammit!).
Um.
I am tired.
That is all.
hurly_burly: (Default)
I had a bad mummy moment last night.
[personal profile] not_an_elf and I were sitting in the living room last night, when he heard Small Girl chatting happily away to herself.
"She's still wide awake in there."
It took a moment for me to realise that I hadn't actually put her to bed, and that she was still in the bath where I'd left her half an hour earlier.

She was very clean.
hurly_burly: (Default)
*flails in undignified fangirly manner*
I can haz Lovecraft's The Call of Cthulhu narrated by Gareth David-Lloyd? Yes, yes I can!
I can order everything else he's recorded for Fantom Films? Well, too late now, I just did!
hurly_burly: (Default)

Well, we had what was hopefully our last ultrasound on Friday, and all is well. We saw fingers and toes and a fish-boney spine, and the small girl nearly died of the squee when we saw the baby yawn.
Lots and lots of wiggling is going on, usually on my lunch break and just before bedtime. It is sometimes accompanied by Braxton-Hicks contractions, which the midwife at the antenatal clinic is concerned about, as they're a bit early.
Boobs still sore.
Not much swelling in hands and feet, and most of that is due to the suddenly warmer weather as much as the pregnancy.
Feeling drastically unmotivated about the bathroom this week. I think it's just that we've been living without it for so long that it's like the room doesn't even exist any more!
Really hope the Houdini billy goat doesn't escape again while not_an_elf is away.
Christmas shopping is done.
The kitchen is full of fruit flies.
I'm tired.
There is a worryingly large pile of STUFF in the spare room, awaiting the arrival of this baby; ridiculous, expensive piles of organic toiletries, a few new toys and clothes (because the poor little mite can't live entirely on hand-me-downs), a box of nappies, some new bamboo wipes from Gaia that I want to try out (they're the same price as the Huggies variety, but are less chemically), and my new organic cotton Hug-A-Bub.
I've sent the dreaded hols fic away for some other eyes to look at. I can't explain why I've disliked writing it so much, but even the thought of editing it makes me want to weep.
Heh, baby is kicking right now.
:)

hurly_burly: (Default)
I had such a nice day today, pootling about with the small girl :) We cleaned her bedroom and weeded out all the clothes that no longer fit her (they have been shipped off to Miss K, since her daughter is conveniently about a size behind mine). Thus, the enormous pile of clean clothes that [personal profile] not_an_elf created has been put away!
*dies*
The living room is...tidier than it was, and it's cleaning lady day tomorrow, so then it will be all nice and vacuumed and lovely when we get home from the supermarket. Tomorrow I'm going to clear the dining room table (and just why does the mess accumulate so bloody quickly there?), deal with our bedroom, put some lavender oil in the oil burner, and finish, print, and proof read my hols fic writing project. Fingers crossed, on Firday I'll be in a position to email it to Brammers.
Christmas shopping is happening this weekend, if only so that I don't have to keeping thinking about it, putting it off, then panicking and having to brave the Christmas Eve shopping frenzy.
hurly_burly: (Default)
Update, update.
I spent the weekend in Hobart, completely failing to go to an SCA event because I forgot to look for garb in the shed. Yes, also because I didn't make any new garb, but I'm pregnant and tired and not a little bit crazy, so shut up. I took the small girl and my mum to the Tarremah Waldorf-Steiner School Spring Fair (my sister, a member of the school's first graduating class, declined our invitation, probably a good thing since she'd hardly have been a stirling advertisment for the school, hungover and grumpy and refusing to come out from behind her sunlasses), and I must say it is always the best school fair of the year. Gorgeous little villagey school, interesting bands, wheelbarrow rides provided by the boundlessly energetic (and keen to impress girls with their physical prowess) older boys, really yummy food with fantastic choices for vegetarians, the gluten and/or lactose intolerant, and those who prefer organic produce, the greatest kids craft room, face-painting with no cartoon character involvement, and beautiful, beautiful toys, books, craft supplies, and education resources for sale. It breaks my heart that the only school in the state is in Kingston, and that the small girl and her sibling/s won't have a chance to go. The only choices available to me up here are private education (expensive, and I think it puts far too much pressure on children to succeed at the cost of enjoying their education), Catholic school (the option we've chosen, even though I'm deeply concerned about the whole religious indoctrination thing and am hoping that the small girl takes to heart my mum's insistence that it's all a load of crap), or the state education system.
Let me say a few words about the Tasmanian state education system:
Up.
Shit.
Creek.
Barbed.
Wire.
Canoe.
No.
Paddle.
First there were the ELs. Not content with that, we now have the Tasmania Tomorrow reforms, under which TAFE has been merged with the upper secondary colleges to create Academies and Polytechnics that (in theory) specialise in pre-tertiary subjects and pre-trade subjects respecitvely (as far as I can tell, the colleges that have so far been converted comprise both Polytechnic and Academie, so it's difficult for me to see the actual fucking point).
It has also created an unholy shitfight.
For the first weeks of this year, no-one had access to any kind of budget, leaving teachers buying classroom supplies out of their own pockets, the staff classifications and pay-scales from the TAFE system have been shoehorned into the new institutions, creating unrest, resentment, and in many cases outright alarm (my mum, who is doing the same job she has been doing for almost 25 years, has been downgraded from a Teacher/Librarian to a Librarian, meaning that she does the same work, gets the same pay, but gets less than half the paid holidays she used to).  Colleges were assured that they would not be forced into the scheme if the majority of the teaching staff voted against it. The majority of the teaching staff at Elizabeth College voted against it. Their principal ignored them, and they are being forced to join anyway (he gets paid a lot more as the head of a Polytechnic, and is is rumoured to be planning on retiring at the end of next year, so why should he give a shit what happens?). Our Labor Premier has over-ridden the Teachers' Union, and announced that for the good of the students (not for the sake of his ego or political career, good heavens no) the reforms will be going ahead whether they like it or not.
The shame is overwhelming.
Teachers are leaving in droves; some taking long service leave, some taking stress leave, some simply retiring.
My mother, who for her entire life has been a staunch supporter of the public education system and a dyed-in-the-wool Labor Party True Believer, told me yesterday that she's really glad that my siblings and I finished our education before the reforms began, and that private education is the best choice for the small girl. I was still reeling from that, and though perhaps I'd misheard, when she said that Sue Napier would make a good Education Minister, and that's who she'd be voting for next year.

It's the end of the world as I know it.
hurly_burly: (Default)
I got my tax return done!
*is triumphant*
I giving half of it to [personal profile] not_an_elf to put towards house renovations, and the rest is destined for car repairs (must get new keyless entry remote before I'm finally locked out of my car for good and always), fixing the small girl's new bedroom up, varous getting-ready-for-the-baby projects and...
*drumroll*

A BUNCH OF CRAP I DON'T ACTUALLY NEED, BUT WANT DESPERATELY!

Because, you know, I live without disposable income most of the time and now I get to waste money without feeling guilty! Bwah-hah-hah!
Oh, fine, I will buy Christmas presents, too, but only because I like buying presents for people...
hurly_burly: (Default)

I have Under Milk Wood on my MP3 player.
This makes me absurdly happy.

hurly_burly: (Default)
Is it actually illegal to kill your ex-husband?
hurly_burly: (Default)
Small Girl (with Solemn Face on): Credit cards have limits.
hurly_burly: (Default)
So, I'm sorting through my CD collection today, for the purposes of transferring it onto the computer and thus rescuing it from dusty, scratched-to-buggery oblivion. It is making me all nostalgic, and also raises some interesting questions:
Why on earth do I own a copy of the Romper Stomper soundrack?
Where has my beloved copy of Heather Nova's Oyster gone?
Who gave me all these pirated Concrete Bonde CDs, and why did they not think to label them?
Why do we own three copies of the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack?
Who did I lend the Cat Empire's self-titled first album to?

And most importantly, why do I always nd up with a teetering pile of CD cases with no discs in them, and a correspondingly large (but, and this is the key point, not matching) pile of discs with no cases?

It's amazing how music can carry with it such strong sensory memories, isn't it? I'm listening to the Doors, and I can almost taste the cheap bourbon and clove cigarettes...I bet if I played Concrete Blonde's Vampire Song I would smell rosemary and thriftshop clothes.

EDIT: I also appear to have lost, in record time, my Florence + the Machine CD :(
hurly_burly: (Default)
Me: Small girl, where are your socks?
Small girl: I can't wear them, I need them for my potion!

Oh, of course...

*wibbles*

Oct. 16th, 2009 06:36 pm
hurly_burly: (Default)
The last two days have been perfectly hidjus. I have been at work, which is normally not too bad, but I have been plagued, PLAGUED, I TELL YOU, by horribleness!
I have what I suspect is a spur on my right heel. It is quite, quite painful even when I'm sitting down (like right now, when it's doing a sort of thobby throbby hurty kind of thing), but I spend most of my time at work either standing up or walking around. So, my heel is so sore that I wanted to hop everywhere at work, and it was only my fear of looking like a loon and/or falling down that stopped me.
Because I have been limping around work for days, my whole right leg now aches from my efforts to find new and interesting (ie, non-hurty) ways of walking.
The wiggly walking, combined with the levels of relaxin (one of the coterie of pregnancy hormones) currently circulating around my body, means that my hips and knees have also been bending in ways that nature did not really intend, so they are now quite painful as well.
And, JOY!
A tension cluster headache snuck up on me yesterday in between lunch and a meeting, which meant I spent several minutes explaining to my concerned supervisor that I was looking a bit spaced-out because the vision disturbance that piggy-backed in on the headache meant that I couldn't see very well with my left eye. Nor could I read the minutes from the last meeting, or the agenda for this one. Also, temporary partial blindness aside, my head FELT LIKE SOMONE WAS DRILLING INTO IT!

On the other hand, the horrible, horrible morning sickness (pft, all day vileness!) has all but gone, and I don't feel quite so tired (for instance, I've stopped falling asleep during meals, and can now come home from work and NOT fall into a coma on the couch!). My belly has popped out a bit, too, which I like because I am strange (perhaps it's because a big pregnant belly makes my boobs look quite small and dainty, which is an amazing feat).

In other news;
chickens, pigs, goat kids, whingy bloody cat, noisy ducks, lots of mud, more rain, wintastic daughter, lovely boyfriend, business as usual.

Cut for unnecessary blathering about my precarious financial position... )

Profile

hurly_burly: (Default)
hurly_burly

October 2010

S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
101112 13141516
17181920 212223
24252627282930
31      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Aug. 19th, 2017 03:21 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios