Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

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.

*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.

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...

I had a bad mummy moment last night.
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.

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.

Small Girl (with Solemn Face on): Credit cards have limits.

Me: Small girl, where are your socks?
Small girl: I can't wear them, I need them for my potion!

Oh, of course...