It’s been awhile between drinks for my news in brief editions…and I had intended this to be the April edition (or probably the March edition…or February edition…) Yet here we are: IN MAY! Holy Toledo. Five months into 2018 and I think I’m still writing 2016 as the date.
Eleanor is well and truly a kinder kid now. So big. Even though it’s just five hours a week (one day)…she’s just so damn big! Probably even more so because she’s one of only three children in the three year olds, so she mostly just hangs with the ‘big kids’ as they’re all in together. Her favourite things about kinder are painting and lunch – ha! She doesn’t come home with much to say, which is just fine, but she has slowly sorted the wheat from the chaff and made a few ‘friends’. Be still my heart…
Matt is yet again attempting to grow a jacaranda. In Thorpdale. Through blistering cold frosts and wind. I think this is his fourth attempt. Every year it gets frosted off and shrivels to a sad little stick, and then usually in Spring or Summer it sprouts again…from the rootstock. He’s got a new method of keeping it in a biggish pot on the back porch (elevated slightly) to see it through Winter. We shall see… (also known as ‘Emma not holding her breath’).
The boys have started harvesting in the paddock around our house this week – much action of tractors and trucks and bin trailers and manitou! Eleanor couldn’t really give two hoots, but it’s like all of Harriet’s Christmases have come at once. She runs from window to window, squealing about all the commotion, goes out to the back porch and puts her gumboots on (a new development, I’m sure Eleanor couldn’t put her boots on at 21 months) and stomps off to wave to every one. Bless the boys cotton socks, they’ve been appeasing her with horn toots and waves and light flashing. Got to go pretty hard now though, probably only five weeks left to get those taters out of the ground – go, go, go!
I have been trying really, really bloody hard not to completely lose my noodle at the girls lately. And (mostly) failing. Gosh, parenting small people is trying…and grey hair inducing. Does anyone know why the arsenic hours are so horrendous? I mean I obviously know it’s the end of the day and everyone is tired and going towards the slippery slope to bedtime…but is it the little people who’s minds are lost, or the parents? Or both?! I don’t know if I am asking too much of Eleanor (mainly to eat her dinner, sitting at the table, pack up her toys before bed, get into her room for pyjamas and a story in a timely manner) but my gosh it’s like I’ve asked her to summit Mount Everest. Much screaming and carry on, defiance and silliness. She well and truly loses the plot from 5pm onwards, I’m sure I’m in a big ol’ boat with many, many others…but ai yi ai! Hence: wine.
Last weekend I finally got my hedge trimmer lesson from Matt. We inherited my mum’s hedge trimmer when she moved to Melbourne (from an extensive country garden to an inner city balcony), but Matt has always trimmed our lavender and shrubs that need a chop-chop. I’ve been lamenting the fact that it’s been on the to-do list for so long, but that Matt isn’t home in daylight hours…so I needed to be able to do it! So I did. And will do from now on. No excuses for complaining about how heavy handed he was with the lavender trimming – all on my shoulders now. Although, I am now thinking that this lavender could have really been pulled out to start the whole hedge again. It’s getting awfully woody and not bouncing back with quite the same vigour. This lavender was planted in 2014, so it’s probably had it’s day, do you replace your lavender? How often? Somebody told me every seven years…
What’s going on in your neck of the words these days?
Let me know if you’ve defiant three year olds who have seemingly lost their mind, or overgrown lavender, or tractors buzzing around your house, or optimistic (read: deluded!) husbands.
Anyone? All of the above?