We threw a (small) party when Dave returned home from his two week sabbatical in Whangarei. Ethan decorated every balloon with pics of him and his Daddy – here they are on the boat fishing.
It was very quiet in the house, never a good sign when both Bush and Ethan are home. They were busy, doing their make-up. Ethan declaring that he has NEVER done this before (well, actually son you did do it when you were 2. Don’t you remember? You carved deep cavernous hollows into my Chanel compact and made momma cry for about 3 days, you had fun then too). The only reservation he had was mascara application. He told Bush he didn’t want to put that black stuff on again as it didn’t feel good on his lips. Thank god for that small miracle I guess.
Ethan was 2.5 when he began attending a Baptist Pre-School. It wasn’t our first choice but he was too young to get into the public kindy. All was good, he had a fabulous time and his only episode of dissent was when he refused to wear his wise man costume in the Christmas Pageant. He figured he was ‘wise’ enough dressed as Ethan-himself.
We were reminicing the other night, talking about the ‘old’ days and the two kindys past, I asked if he remembered his days at the Babptist Kindy, he thought about it, noted that yes he did and was that the one in the church?
Yes I said, it was a church kindy
Yeah, Ethan replied, I remember that one. It was NOT so good. It was in a church and I didn’t even get to see God!
ROFLMAO, for reals.
In a similar vein, after one night with Florida in the house he decided that he had to say his prayers before he went to sleep. He didn’t quite articulate it this way though. I was tucking him in tonight, and he told me he needed to do his godblasts. WTF. I have never heard this particular Ethanism before and was stumped. He explained;
“Mama before you go to bed you need to ask God to blast all of the people you love, so…..God blast Nana, God blast Grandad, God blast God, God blast Louie and Marl and Moll, God blast you and Daddy and Meemee and Sinead. That’s how you do God Blasts”.
Of course it is Ethan. Let me know how you all are feeling after your God blasting this evening!
“……..My oldest now lives in southern California where she teaches special ed pre-school to support her surfing problem”.
We got a mountain of overripe bananas at the orchard for $2.99 – 2 loaves of banana bread and a dozen muffins and still more bananas left!
Banana Loaf – Edmond’s Cook Book, this recipe is SO easy & quick, which is good because I will probably be repeating it about 3 more times today!
1 3/4 cups self raising flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup milk
75 g butter, melted
1 cup mashed banana (approximately 2 bananas)
1 Sift flour, baking soda and salt into a bowl.
2 Mix in sugar.
3 In another bowl beat eggs.
4 Stir in milk, butter and banana.
5 Mix quickly into dry ingredients, stirring until ingredients are just combined.
6 Spoon into a greased and lined 22cm loaf tin.
7 Bake at 180C (350F) for 45-55 minutes.
8 Leave in tin for 10 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack.
So our Besty, aka Ms. Bush (say it with a lisp pleaseth) flies in from San Diego on Wednesday and we have just begun emailing and txting back in forth about what she needs to bring etc. Yes it’s late but this is how we roll. It’s called TIMELY PROCRASTINATION people and works – check out my assignment grade, yesth that’s niceth.
Believe it or not, this smile is for me! Ethan finally spied me stalking him with the camera as Dave mowed the lawns and ran over and near-tackled me with a gigantic hug and told me he loved me even though I made him wear a scarf.
OK so we all know by now that MELISSA & ETHAN ARE SICK, I know I feel sorry for me too. But the week of lonely Jacks just ended and Dave is back. Everything is as it should be, the filthy-farm-shi-tzu is sleeping on the leather couch, Ethan can’t take his eyes off his Daddy and there is a mountain of laundry waiting for me. Drink up sisters, Daddy’s home!
1.) Grab your current read. Let the book fall open to a random page and share two “teaser” sentences from that page, somewhere between lines 7 and 12.
“That’s why women with long legs and dyed hair, the bottle blondes of this world, travel hundreds or even thousands of miles to be in Cannes, even if only to spend the whole day on the beach, hoping to be seen, photographed, discovered. They want to escape from the trap that awaits all women: becoming a housewife, who makes supper for her husband every evening, takes the children to school every day and tries to dig up some dirt on her neighbours’ monotonous lives so as to have something to gossip about with her friends.”
I swear that was a random selection! A very poignant selection nonetheless considering that probably the only people who will read this will be a handful of ‘mommy-bloggers’ (like myself), so who’s going to be the first to get fired up about Coelho’s sweeping generalization? Or is he right?
Lets see how I fit the bill:
- It’s 8.30pm I am in bed. It’s too cold to be anywhere else when hubby is away and there is nothing on TV (no we don’t have a TV in the bedroom)
- I am wearing flannel PJ’s with sheep on them. See above IT’S COLD….and I live in NZ people!
- I wore no make-up today :::gasp::: I know, I hear ya. It was wasn’t pretty but hey kiddo was home marginally ill again and we live on a farm and I am not The Pioneer Women. Ethan tells me I’m beautiful anyway and I tell myself that surely this counts for something right?
- I am sending kiddo to kindy tomorrow no matter what because if I have to endure another full day of Mr 4.5yo Perfectionist’s crying over everything he does that is less than worthy of hanging in MOMA I’m not sure all the happy pills in the world will be able to save me.
- I talk about my kid WAY too much.
So well, hmmm looks like I am definitely a housewife. But trapped? I have never thought about it that way (not since the days of breastfeeding when I was literally trapped and my life was segmented into the TWO HOURLY feeding cycle – yes it is true and it lasted one year!). All I can say is that we all have choices and claiming entrapment doesn’t really cut it if the only things tying you down are your apron strings.
So, do I like this book? Yes, the reviews of it are shit, but I love Coelho’s writing. This book rationalizes the behaviour of each nutbar character in a very comprehensive and compelling way. Can I put it down? Yes. It’s not as good as last months read ‘Our Lady of the Forest’, which I loved and highly recommend. Unless you are a Coelho collecter I would say get this one from the library rather than buy it.