Rolling, rolling, rolling.

Today was a day for roller skating.

Did you have 'boot skates'? Maybe roller blades as a kid?

Me, I am not a roller of any sort.

How are you rolling lately?

The pressure of the class mascot

I think they all have them. Schools, Kinders, Creche. Each one has sent me into a flap. A toy that comes home for the week and spends the week with the child. The child then fills in a scrap book about their adventure for the week and presents it to the class.

First up we had a dinosaur and he went everywhere for the week, we took photos, Popps drew pictures, it was fun. The book was filled with some pretty amazing artwork, seems some kids have graphic designers for parents, or go flying on weekends to exotic destinations.

Last night we had Farmer Ted. He arrived home as part of the ongoing theme of 'farming' in the prep year. Popps had swimming to go to and became distressed, "Mrs G asked if I had anything on tonight, I said no, but I forgot, oh no, we have swimming, I will be in trouble" Ahhhh disaster in her mind.

Mrs G is not really like that, but anyway.

I let her know it would all be ok. We could work it out.

Then I realised the printer at home was out of ink and the photos she wanted were not going to be printed out.

So as she got ready for swimming I snapped some shots of Farmer Ted. As the girls hit the pool I emailed those from my phone to Mr H, he was able to print them at work for us. Then he somehow managed to get locked in at work, which is what happens when you are working late. Poor Mr H has started riding his bike to work, after being locked in, it got dark, the rain came down and it was awhile before the photos arrived home. Popps was getting tired.

Finally she began her Farmer Ted homework and an hour and a half later it was done. She filled three pages of the scrap book and finally got to bed, she was so tired but really wanted to do a portrait of Farmer Ted, exactly as he looks. Thankfully, hers is the first entry in the book so we had no pressure to do or compare to what some other parents may get up to.

The difference with this one was that we only had one night, not the week to get the task done. It was a bit of a hassle and made for a late night, which Popps was ok with, but I was missing evening TV viewing and twitter.

Scary Bunny, Tired Child.

But maybe it makes no difference. All this reminded me that earlier in the year Immy had the Bunny from creche for the week and we took hundreds of photos of her and Bunny over the week. Then forgot to fill in the book, I mentioned I would print the pages out and stick them in...must add that to my list.

How do you cope with the class mascot visiting your place?

A letter to my sister on her 40th Birthday

Dear Theresa Green

Firstly, how did this happen, when did we grow up?

Being my older sister, my very first memories are of you. Of Holly Hobby wallpaper and you sleeping in the green bunk above my bed, the one that Dad made.

I have a few things to thank you for, and others to apologise for. 

I am sorry that I wasted all of your Little Blossom makeup in one go, and that you got the blame for it.

I need to thank you for carrying my school bag home up that massive hill in Geelong. Considering you were ten, carrying three school bags up a huge hill was quite an effort.

Thank you for introducing me to Boy George, it was the start of my dancing career, the one that's still to really kick off.

I am sorry for singing the same song, "I am a laughing Gnome and you can't catch me" over and over. 

I am sorry that I had to have the light on for so long when we shared a room when all you wanted was to sleep.

Because I thought you were so cool I pretended for a while that I too loved horses. We all know how that turned out, after two years of Saturday lessons I was still petrified of horses and riding in a double saddle so I didn't fall off. Finally, when we moved and you got your own horse, I never had to ride again. 

Thank you for giving me your ID even when you really didn't want to.

Thank you for not calling Mum and Dad when you caught me on top of a large wire fence trying to sneak into a Ballarat nightclub to see Boom Crash Opera play. 

Sorry that I had also knicked your brand new country road pants, ripped the tags off and teamed them with a new top I liked in your wardrobe. Remember what happened? I fell off the fence and ripped those pants to shreds.  And you, what did you do? You stuck within 2m of me all night making sure I didn't get in any trouble, especially when I dragged you backstage.

I still owe you for the pants. (Plus those other ones that got the battery acid spilt on them... the similar story...but you know, learnt my lesson that time).

And sorry that I dropped your full bottle of Eternity perfume all over the bathroom floor and smashed the bottle, at least the bathroom smelt nice for a few days.

You managed to be there for me through all those stupid times when boys dumped me, I was such a basket case. It was you who kept reminding me that only by meeting new people would I find the person right for me. You were right.

There was a time I thought it was a problem that you were not very confident. Let's face it, you are not always too confident. Back then I thought this was a weakness in you, something that I wished we could change, to make you more confident in yourself, to just hear you say something, anything that you were good at. But I was wrong, I thought confident meant brave and strong. 

It doesn't.

Because no one is as brave and strong as you.

Dropping everything, leaving your job, your house, your friends, and even your car and taking a chance on the other side of the country - that was brave. Going to the outback of WA to nanny for a family living god knows where. You slept outside and had to light a fire for your hot water. There was no electricity. That was strong. They were so happy to have you, and you loved those kids a lot, 15 years later, you still have contact with them.

I have done things in my life that others won't, but only because of you.
Who else drives across the Nullabor in a Mazda 121, a two-door car, in summer, without air conditioning, in a manual, with only three tapes, no radio other than Indigenous FM? The eagles eating the road kill nearly picked up the car, the road trains swept us along the road so much we had to spit out the dust for the next km. It was amazing. Best 5 days ever.

When I had to hold my baby down for blood tests and I was petrified, I texted you, saying I couldn't do it, you didn't send me nice fluffy messages saying it will be ok, you called and said, get over it, your baby needs you, grow up and deal with yourself later. 

I did. But only just, cos I am not strong like you.

There was only one name I could give your house when I visited to see you and your little family before I had my own.

Rancho Relaxo.

I arrived. I played with babies, fed them, cuddled them and soaked them up. It was bliss.

The night Lochie was born and the nurses wouldn't tell me if you were in hospital or not, I told them I would send an ambulance to your house to ensure you were ok. I was terrified of you being in labour, it scared me. They folded and told me you were there and I stressed for 9 hours til I got your call. 

I had nothing to worry about. Four babies. Drug-Free. Brave, Strong.

My visit to Rancho Relaxo on April 22 would change all our lives. 

To be honest, there have been days and weeks I wasn't sure how we could all keep going. But at the bottom of those thoughts were, that if you could be so strong, and keep breathing, even if it was just one breath at a time, then everyone else had too to.

If you could stand at a gravesite with your two-year-old son and two-week old daughter in your arms and bury your three year old son, and keep breathing, well, then I could be strong too. I just had to learn how, from you.

We are very different, the city life is the one I have chosen and the harshness of country life is not for me. Sometimes I wonder why anyone lives out there, but last week I sat in a country pub, watched you, surrounded by country women, women of strength, value, courage and quite a bit of humour!  The kind of women that cook lasagna for a neighbour when they think it's needed, and I saw what you have. You have a community that loves you and that is worth more than anything the city can ever offer, and with them, you can always be yourself, there is no need to be confident, you just have to be yourself, they already have your back. They will catch you if you ever need catching. I get it.

So now, today on your 40th birthday, thank you for being my sister. For being someone who can be strong and brave and whip up a batch of biscuits while popping the cork on a bottle of bubbles when another woman needs someone to lean on. 

I am more than proud to say you are mine.

Are you a witch in the kitchen?

Popps recently asked me if witches are real.

This started a conversation about history and how sometimes men used to think that girls should not learn to read and write or be allowed to work in jobs that you needed to learn things for.

But sometimes women were very smart, and they taught themselves lots and lots of things, often they learnt about nature, and herbs and because they didn't have panadol and dimetapp they used lots of things from the garden to make people better. The men thought these women were magic and became scared of them and then called them witches, because herbs can do all sorts of things.

And because herbs are so good for us and can still be used for all sorts of things, while Mr H looks after most of our garden and yard I like to take control of the herbs. In a perfect herbalicious world I would have bountiful crops of parsley, mint, coriander, basil, dill, chives and rosemary.

Instead I have chives - which apparently match with roses - so they sit in a pot with a beautiful yellow rose bush. I have mint, but there is something wrong with it, the taste is not right for some reason, it must be some hybrid mint thing that is just a bit wrong. I have thyme growing like a weed, who uses thyme anyway, and what for? The rosemary was planted too close to the sandpit and became a too regular ingredient in sand pit 'cookery'. One time the basil went ok but further attempts to have this in the garden have failed. As for Dill - I am a dill.

But Italian Parsley. LOTS.

I also have silver beet, growing as it usually does, like a weed.

Today I decided to use a stack of the silver beet up and looked up some recipes. I found one that I thought might be ok. One that we might all actually eat. Silver beet soup, cooked up with onions and potatoes and with sour cream stirred though at the end.

It must have actually been a nasty witches brew recipe though, horrible horrible stuff and it is being ripped from the garden tomorrow.

So that left me with a garden of parsley and spring onions.

I chose the parsley. Used this recipe from Veggie Mama and the meal was declared a new favourite. Both girls had two bowls full and have requested the same again tomorrow night, I am declaring this witches magic, because it is so rare for my new dishes to be applauded so loudly.

Tomorrow, I am ripping the entire herb garden out and starting again. Witchy herb tips appreciated!

Are you a witch in your kitchen?



Image from Pinterest.

What are you writing?

Are you even writing?

Are you getting those pens out and putting them on the paper. Scribbling down your news, notes and letters to a friend or family member?

I know some of you are, you have kindly linked back to the Handwriting Challenge post – thank you all for doing so.

And for those that need a little help to get started, how about getting a head start on Mothers Day?

It could be your own mother, grandmother or mother in law. It could be to a friend who is experiencing their first mother’s day, including one that might be having mother’s day without her baby. Angel babies have Mums too. Or maybe it is a friend who has lost their own mother this year.

Whatever way you look at it, there is someone in your life that needs a card or a letter for Mother’s Day.

And popping up on facebook this week I saw this from Cat at Beloverly. Handmade Cards, with embroidery.

Very glam indeed.

But remember you don't have to be fancy, get the stamp pad or paints out and get your kids hand prints onto a piece of paper and turn it into a card.

Send a relevant or funny photo with a message that says I am thinking of you.

Whatever you do, get writing.

That’s why I’ve penned these verses, The simple facts to tell.

I recently found a poem in my emails going to and fro between my Dad and aunts and uncles. I was about to delete it, thinking it was more of the family reunion stuff that we had all attended recently.

I am glad I didn't.

Instead I got to learn quite a bit about a very wonderful man.

I asked my Dad to tell me more about Grandpa Willis  (my Great Grandfather) and this poem. 

This is what he said (he didn't know he would be being blogged!)

Grandpa Willis was a very quiet and humble man and I feel sure he would have recognised the author of this poem if it wasn’t him. Also, if it was a copy you’d think there’d be another version somewhere but I have shown it to various people who love war history and none have seen it before.

We found the poem in Grandpa’s old trunk after he died. There he kept his War diary (in which was a well preserved poppy from the Western Front) which we all knew about but the poem wasn’t known about then. 

Grandpa was always loath to talk about the War – he felt it was a stupid and senseless waste of life. He was wounded in one of the major battles there and as kids we were always fascinated by the piece of shrapnel that they dug out of him back in England where he recovered, and the scar in his side from the operation. 

I’m a bit of a fan of the history of the Western Front and the famous part the Aussies played in the eventual victory, they were involved in many heroic battles to turn the Germans back - the town of Amiens was a key to the German hopes of pushing the Allies back to the sea, then crossing the Channel to take England. There was a decisive battle where the Aussies under their own General John Monash using a new and more modern approach to warfare beat and started the eventual retreat of the Germans and this "Key to Amiens" is a proud recollection of that. 

Grandpa was wounded in another famous battle, the Battle of Le Hamel which is a village not far from Villiers Brettoneux.

So today I have a treat for history lovers, for those that like poetry, for anyone who likes good writing and all that live a free life thanks to the bravery, courage and ultimate sacrifice of too many.

Lest we Forget.

How Amiens Was Saved

They boasted a front of granite strength

Which nothing on earth could shake

The arms and skill of fifty years

Defied our men to break.

They bent the line  for forty miles

And flushed with victory

Were pushing on to Amiens

To drive us to the sea

Across the smiling meadows

His columns held their sway

To the tune of “Rule Germania”,

And the song of “To the Day”

When Germania rides to victory

And the Kaiser doffs his crown

And the eagle sounds the trumpet

That “Britain’s trampled down”.

They roll the Allies forward

And Amiens is the key

It is the final flutter

For the channel and the sea

But now at Villers Bretoneux

They get a mighty shock

For the army of Australia

Is like a piece of rock

Entrenched upon the plateau

With Amiens in the rear

Are half trained rough Australians

Who never knew a fear.

He made his thrust at daylight

With the mighty Prussian Guard

But Australian sons of British blood

Refused to yield a yard

And back he came mid trumpets

And bullets poured like rain

But our duty was to hold the line

So we knocked him back again.

It was the morn of April

He made his great attack

With explosive shell and bullets

They failed to push us back.

We faced the cruel bayonets

But put him on the run

And we won the key to Amiens

Though they were three to one

And when the reliefs took over

We passed back to the rear

Silent by the fallen

For the price we paid was dear.

And the people of Australia

Safe from the slush and mud

Enjoying a life of freedom

Away from the stench of blood

And the mothers of Australia

Away in the Homeland dear

Saddened souls of affection

For a loved ones distant tear.

They knew not how they perished

Or how those brave men fell

That’s why I’ve penned these verses

The simple facts to tell.

Many a good and honest girl

Was struck with a sudden pain

Longing for her dear lover

Who’ll never return again.

Many a bright Australian child

Wailed at home in vain

Crying to greet a soldier Dad

Now numbered with the slain.

Mothers, fathers and sisters

Though the salt tears coursed like rain

Were proud of the soldier heroes

Whose fight was not in vain.

Many a fine Australian boy

Caused a mothers tears

By dying to save Australia

The land he loved so dear

Their graves are scattered o’er the land

And wild flowers clothe their bed

And springtime’s scent of glory

Spreads fragrance o’er the dead

Bright  poppies grow beside them

In bloom of scarlet red

Poppies, blood red poppies

Wave proudly overhead.

They’re buried where they perished

Where death had taken toll

And drops of blood have written

A long and glorious roll

The town boy from the office

The bush lad from the plough

The stockman and the rover

These  sleep forever now.

They gave their lives for Australia

And the German thrust was checked

And we won the Key to Amiens

And the Kaiser’s plan was wrecked

Possibly (Most likely definitely) written by Private Michael Willis, 14th Battalion - 4th Division. Wounded at the Battle of Le Hamel.

The App I Like.

No shopping list or piece of paper is safe in our house these days. As Popps learns to write a new letter each week in the class room she is also changing her writing style and playing with the way her letters look. It is important to her to get the letters correct and to look like the teacher wants them to look and she practices on anything that doesn't move. And sometimes on things that do (it was only chalk, dogs don't mind having their names written on them).

I stumbled across the rED Writing App and it has saved a handful of work documents from being drawn on. Not many, but it's a start.

Popps loves this app and it could be one of my most favourite ones ever for purpose and entertainment. I also showed it to her Prep teacher who was mighty impressed, in fact she is getting ipads for their class room and wanted to know if this app could be used on iPads too - which it is, but only the phone version not a special ipad version.

Popps is also constantly asking us to write out notes, words and stories for her and it has helped that we know how she is meant to learn the letters, Mr H can barely read his own writing so I am going to suggest he starts playing red writing too. I tend to do my r in an old fashioned way so I am trying to write it 'correctly' for her.

Immy so far is interested in only the letter I and the number 3, because they are hers, and no one else anywhere is allowed to have them.

This is not a review, just sharing an app that I think is actually worth downloading.

From the app site is this: Teach children ages 3 - 7 how to write the letters and numbers of the alphabet the same way they are taught at school. Co-designed by an Australian teacher for children aged 3-7 years old, rED Writing contains 8 x education approved handwriting fonts used throughout Australian schools (QLD, NSW, ACT, VIC, TAS, SA, WA and NT) to trace and learn.

Have you got any favourite apps? Share them here so I can update my gadgets.

If you are playing along, how are you going with your #6Letters?

The place we keep going back to

We headed off on the weekend for our favourite getaway that is only an hour from Melbourne.

Pop on over to Bub Hub to see where we went and what we all thought of it.




Click here if you missed it the first time.