New Lease for an Old Friend

Parents are suckers, aren't we? Especially with the first. The way their eyes light up when you hand them something that they clearly want to cuddle in their chubby arms has us opening wallets and swiping cards left right and centre. David just spent weeks searching for a glow in the dark Care Bear for Little on E-bay because we could no longer find them in the shops here. He ended up buying 3, "because you never know!"

My Dad loves telling a story about how I suckered him. There was an aquarium in what is now the industrial estate when I was about 9 months old. Mum and Dad took me and I fell head over heels for a stuffed toy in the gift shop (which brings me to a parenting lesson: Avoid any location that forces you to either enter or exit through a gift shop. Those places are pure evil!!).

Apparently, no matter which way I was turned or what I was shown in the sparkly tanks, my eyes remained glued on the toys. So, much to my babyish delight, I was bought a toy - a stuffed coral polyp.

Dad was responsible for naming our toys and this one was dubbed: "Poly the Polyp" (he's a very witty man!). But life goes on and I was a fickle baby. The toy did not hold my attention forever and I'm pretty sure it was relegated to a Lifeline bin in the end.

When Dad started scanning photos, of course he came across the one above. He told the story again and I decided that it was sad that a toy who was so loved ended up being discarded. So, in memory of my original Poly, I made the new Poly.

The first thing Dad said was, "It's a bit bigger than the original." But in my mind, it's exactly the right size (Isn't it funny that we grow, but the things we remember do not shrink to compensate!). Poly in my memory didn't have feet (maybe they became the victims of rough play?) and I made her flat on the bottom to sit up by herself (for some reason, that's important to me in a toy). As soon as she was finished, Big fell madly in love with her and very gently cradled her. Little, on the other hand, gave her a massive cuddle and then tossed her into the next room.

I hand dyed bamboo fleece to get just the right shade of yellow (it doesn't show up brilliantly on the photo) and embroidered the face by hand. Her fronds are red acrylic felt. I'm not particularly happy with the lumps and bumps, but I got a bit impatient when I was stuffing her!

So now the girls have the chance to play with an old friend of mine, who kept me happy for many an hour!

Pink elephants and good friends

By the time I was in grade 10 at school, I had found a pretty awesome group of friends. In fact, nearly all of us are still involved in each other’s lives to some extent. Being such a big group, we did have little groups of ‘best’ friends and I am so lucky that I am still in touch with mine. We have been each other’s bridesmaids and are ‘aunts’ to children and regularly keep in touch, despite great distances between us.

A couple of weeks ago, I posted pictures of Archie on my facebook page. He is the first toy that I have been a bit more imaginative with. For some reason, I tend to like a certain level of realism in my animals, but the idea of a super hero elephant was too inviting to pass up!

After I had made Archie, the thought struck me that I should make a pink elephant and I knew it had to be. My friends and I have quite an affinity with pink elephants, ever since history class. Some of my fondest moments are from Modern History. I have to question how much work we did, seeing as I have more illegal notes saved from those lessons than knowledge of whatever it was we studied.

A, J, F and I all sat together, mostly counting how many times a particular girl did her hair (10 times over 90 minutes) and quoting our favourite jokes from DAAS, Good News Week or the like. F would roll her eyes at us as she diligently copied notes from the board (can you guess who got the OP1?), knowing we would want to copy them later, while we giggled quietly and not so quietly.

During our research time for one particular assignment, A became very frustrated. She had asked our teacher if she was on the right track and he responded that as long as she had research to back it up, she was fine. She stormed back to the rest of us and exclaimed, “I could say that ‘pink elephants have tea at three o’clock’ and as long as I can find evidence, then I’m right!”

After that, the phrase, ‘pink elephants have tea at three o’clock’, or drawings of elephants in J’s case, appeared on every practice exam, assignment task sheet and general worksheet we had to complete for history, resulting in uncontrollable giggles.

We’ve gotten older since then and the giggles are not as frequent, but whenever I stood in front of a Sose class and talked about the importance of research to back up their point of view, I could almost imagine pink elephants in the corner of the class room.

So this year, for J's birthday, she has received 'Elen' my pink elephant. I did have an epic fail with cheap wool felt...

I managed to salvage the ears and used left over fabric from the girls' table tent. I then made her a little watch from felt scraps and set out to find a tea cup. I have to ask, do children not have tea parties anymore? I went everywhere! But I eventually found a gorgeous pink set at Big W (Big and Little don't notice that there is a cup and saucer missing) to complete Elen.

So, happy birthday, J! Enjoy your elephant and thanks for being my friend through it all!

Evolution of the owl

This is the first owl I ever made.

 It now hangs out in the depths of ‘the zoo’: a cage for all of the girls’ stuffed toys.

 Next, I tried to make the owl able to stand by adding a flat bottom (it doesn’t actually stand, it’s too top heavy).

I then tried to see if shortening the body would make any difference (I still wasn't sure, but look at my gorgeous girl!!).

Then, I read the archives of my hero, Abby Glassenberg’s, blog (she is ah-mazing and gives brilliant tips and advice!!) and learned more about making softies in 3D. This latest owl has three panels instead of simply a front and a back so that it can actually stand up by itself.

 I’m still planning to tweek it some more, but I am very happy with where it is heading.

Where have I been?

I’m a hopeless blogger. I say that all the time. My last post was in August and so much has happened since then, but I have not bothered to document it. This is not an excuse. It’s more of a confession and an apology.

I am a terrible friend. I never call people, I rarely answer text messages and if I’m not going somewhere with the girls or the whole family, I tend not to go anywhere. Instead, I spend my time at home, reading, writing, sewing, sleeping. It suits me, most of the time. But over the last few months, I have been through the wringer – emotionally and mentally.

I have always struggled with depression. While at uni, I would spend hours sitting on my bed staring at the wall. I had friends who I saw at lectures and tutorials, but I never went out anywhere or actually got to know them. During breaks, I would stay in bed for days on end (my longest stint was three weeks when my parents divorced). David would bring me food and make me shower (God bless him for still marrying me!!).

Then I had a baby. My beautiful, awe inspiring baby who would cry for hours on end, then feed for just as long. I got to the point where I would lay on the couch and not move unless I was attending to her needs. I was prescribed antidepressants and advised to stop breastfeeding. I never took the medication, because I felt better after I stopped breastfeeding.

When Willow was born, she was a dream child, but breastfeeding was hell. My period came back only four weeks after she was born, wreaking havoc with my hormones and milk production. I was exhausted, stressed and anxious all the time. I stuck it out for 11 months (so they were both fed for the same amount of time) and felt much better once I stopped feeding her.

I felt like I was completely in control of my depression. I have done my Masters in Guidance and Counselling, so I knew all of the theories. Behaviourist theory is the only documented proven therapy to work with depression, so I figured as long as I was busy, I would be fine (I know, I really do know the theory, I promise!!).

But I still had periods where I would cut myself off and just go through the motions. It began increasing until I got to the point where I did not even want to spend time with the girls. Any chance I got, I got away from them. When they came back, it was too soon. My guilt and anxiety increased and I was so grumpy, defensive and aggressive. I made poor Bel cry so many times by the way I spoke to her and I am horrified to hear how she speaks to her friends because I know it comes from me. The tone of her voice is awful.

Then my beautiful soldier of a sister-in-law died. On her father’s birthday, the day after my birthday, five days before Christmas. She said goodbye to me and I did not believe her. She had come through so much and was on such a high dose of morphine and methadone that I was convinced it was the drugs talking. But she went, leaving the biggest hole in my heart that I have ever experienced. She had been sick for so long and all she ever wanted was to live a normal life: go to work, go out with friends, have children. I get to do all of those things, so why was I so miserable? I just wanted to curl into a ball and be left alone – indefinitely.

Instead, I finally made an appointment and hauled arse to the doctor. I needed a pap smear and figured I should see if I was actually depressed while I was there. I actually told the doctor everything and he told me that, yes, there was no doubt that I was depressed and I needed to take the medication this time.

So I did, I am, taking the antidepressants. I still like my own company, but I’m starting to feel more engaged with the world. I am actually spending time with my girls and feel more energetic. I can drive without my stomach being in anxious knots. I can sleep.

So to all of my friends, I’m sorry. As I read over this, it sounds like a giant whinge and an excuse. But the reality is that depression is becoming more prevalent in our society and this is my journey with it.

Hard lessons Part 2: Saying goodbye

When David came home, after we had lunch and more tears flowed, we wrapped the nest in green fabric (Big's choice) and cut it down from the wire. We went outside to the butterfly garden and dug a hole. Bel wanted us to take photos to remember the baby bird.

David said a prayer and then Big helped him fill in the hole.

More tears fell at home when she noticed how forlorn the wire looked without the nest. But she said goodbye and hopes to meet the baby bird in heaven.

Hard lessons and the circle of life

I had actually been looking forward to this post until today. For weeks we have been watching Sun Birds staking out our deck and building a nest. There was much excitement when the mummy bird moved in permanently. We would watch her for ages and laugh as the blue chested daddy bird preened himself while looking at our windows or chattered to the ‘other bird’ in the toy toaster (it’s our old chrome toaster).

We watched closely over the weeks and were over the moon when we noticed the mummy bird bringing insects to the nest in her beak. Big learned so much about how to tell the mummy and daddy birds apart, why it’s important for the mummy bird to sit in the nest, how to be still and quiet so we don’t scare the mummy bird away. We loved their trilling song that sounded throughout the day.

Because the nest is above our play area, the mummy bird actually became quite used to our presence and would stick her head out of the nest and peer at us as though we were just a mild annoyance.

But then…

Last night we noticed the mummy bird’s absence as we ate dinner. David tried to tell Big that it was because the baby bird had flown away. We couldn’t hear the baby cheeping and hoped this was the answer.

But we came home from playgroup this morning and I could see the baby’s head peeping out of the nest. I called Bel over excitedly, noticing the flies too late. The mopping that I needed to do was temporarily forgotten as I held my distraught little girl and tried to answer her questions.

She cried so hard. I cried because I couldn’t take away her pain. I had been so fearful of this happening. But the questions were so hard. It started with her standard, “Why?” But she didn’t want to accept my answers. I told her the baby must have been sick. “But they are not apposed [sic] to get sick.” I then tried to tell her that everyone dies at some point. “Why?” So we can go to heaven. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. Will you die? And Daddy? Willow?” My heart broke over and over as I tried to make her understand.

She has calmed down, but every now and then she still asks why. “I don’t like it when baby birds die. If the mummy bird gives the baby lots and lots of kisses, then the baby bird will be happy.” (She saw the mummy bird trying to pull the baby out of the nest. I told her she was kissing the baby.)

I called David to give him the heads up. We are going to take the nest down, wrap it in fabric and bury it when he comes home for lunch. I’m hoping a small ritual will give her some closure.

All she wants to know right now is why it died and if the baby bird is happy.

The busyness continues

After we got over Hubby’s birthday, Little turned 1. We still can’t quite believe it! There was a big party planned and relatives arrived from Perth and New Zealand. But the spanner in the works was Big having a febrile convulsion one evening during dinner. An ambulance, emergency accommodation and a babysitter later, we got to the hospital. It turned out she had croup and was given medicine and discharged.

Big being so sick meant that we couldn’t have Hubby’s elderly grandparents and unwell sister come to the party. So it was a bit smaller than we hoped. But Little looked so cute in her birthday dress (fortunately I had made it before all of the family arrived so it was completed before the drama!). 

Grandad had made a cake and the afternoon was enjoyed by all whose immune systems were strong enough to attend!

It seemed that as soon as Big recovered, Little became mysteriously ill with ridiculously high temperatures. So when she became limp and lethargic and incredibly hot, we once again went to the emergency ward. In between temperature spikes, Little flirted with the nurses at 1am and had them madly in love with her! We finally got home at 5am with no answers. It wasn’t until a few days later that a rash indicated that she had a simple virus, roseola.

So, while we waited at home for the girls to recover, I received an interesting phone call. A while ago, I had filled out an application to be part of the Mummy Panel for the ‘Cairns Parenting Companion Magazine’ and I was one of six mums picked! So excited!! I had a very brief photo shoot (just a head shot) yesterday, and will have a couple of comments published in this coming edition.

But did I think with two sick children, new commitments with the panel and simply cleaning the house that I had enough to do? Of course not! I had sold a doll through ‘Earth Toys’ and was feeling pretty good about it. So Hubby said I should start a website. I figured that was too hard, so I launched a facebook page: www.facebook.com/spupeedesigns . And it’s going brilliantly! I have actually fallen behind filling orders for my dinosaur softie, which is a bit stressful, but very exciting! Once I get the dinosaurs made, I’m hoping to have a chance to make some other ideas into a reality this week and post them up on the page. Stay tuned!