Break-dancin' babe

I know it's not appropriate. I know I should not be dressing my son up like a performing monkey for my own gratification. But I just couldn't resist.

One night last week, my PJ-clad little dude came out from our bedroom with my cap on. Backwards. Pass me the camera...



He was lovin' it...



... even throwing in some complicated moves...



Yeah.

Feeling lucky

It really is an amazing thing to wait so long (March 2005 I put my name on the list) for a childcare place and then, bam, within a day or so it's done and dusted, signed and sealed. I am feeling extremely fortunate about the whole thing, really.
We have scored a place for E at one of the council-run (I only had his name down for council centres) children's centres in our local area. So this morning we walked there. It's up a big hill, but so close to us - probably only about a 20-minute walk.
The centre itself is tucked on a street filled with houses that remind me of parts of Spain, where you can glimpse into the yards of houses with concreted front gardens and see an anomalous proliferation of passionfruit vines, tomatoes, trees.
Only the sign out the front gives any hint of what lies within the little terrace house. We walked in to find the kids (19 attend - no wonder it takes so damn long to score a place) happily buzzing about, painting, listening to stories, and playing on a little computer.
I am so pleased my boy will be going there. It's like a subtle step up from Family Day Care (5 kids) to 19 at this centre...
I just hope he's happy there.

Not-so-slim pickings

So the time had come. The zucchini plant was bulging. This meant the small fry was finally able to do what he's been itching to do for weeks: pick my zucchinis. I have to admit that even I have been dying to pick them. When I was a kid my mum and dad grew zucchinis all the time. They'd forget about them for a day or so and they'd turn into these monstrous marrows. In fact, at one point my mum became rather good at making stuffed zucchini (which I still like).

Anyhow, this particular zucchini has had an, um, interesting growth pattern. It's thick and misshapen, the kind that you'd never see in Woolworths. Which makes me like it all the more...



We also picked a more regular shaped one. So guess what's on the menu tonight?



I adore zucchinis. I think they're the most versatile, delicious vegies. I'll eat them raw, boiled, steamed, roasted ... mmmmm! Shaun and E don't really share my enthusiasm for them, but that's OK, more for me.



PS: how typical is this: it's the first beautiful, sunny, non-rainy day in a while and what am I doing this morning? Sitting in the house waiting for the Optus guys to come around and for a mattress to be delivered. I am itching to get out into the sunshine ...

Finally, after three years...

... we have a place at one of the local childcare centres! One we want! (We've been offered a spot at every one except the two near where we live.) I have yet to check this particular centre out, but I've heard good things about it. It blows my mind to think that my name has been on that waiting list since I was 4 months pregnant. Amazing.
Good things (eventually) come to those who wait.

PS: the only bad thing about finally scoring a place for E is that he will have to leave his Family Day Care carer who is, quite seriously, one of the warmest and loveliest people I have ever encountered. It's no exaggeration to say she loves E as much as I do.

An explosion of yellow!

OK, I realise I am possibly starting to border on the obsessive (soon Shaun is not going to allow me within 10 paces of the vegie patch when I have a camera in hand) but how nice are these zucchini flowers?



























And we have ascertained that they do not have a scent.






































PS: the food dye did come out of the pale pink t-shirt, even in an ordinary cold wash. Yay!

Thrifty or what?

Today I have made a discovery that could potentially save me a fortune. You see, my son loves to paint - which is a good thing, of course. The trouble is that he squeezes great big gloops of paint out every time and the Crayola finger paint he has costs (gulp!) $14.99 a pop. That's a lot! (I only bought it because I had a little left on a DJs voucher that I needed to spend.)

On Saturday I was lucky enough to find Robin Barker's cookbook at the library and, flipping through it, I noticed a recipe for fingerpaint - the answer to my prayers! It's so very easy to make.

Place 1/2 a cup of cornflour, 2 tablespoons of sugar and 2 cups of water in a saucepan. Cook over a medium heat until the mixture eventually thickens (5 minutes or so). Put paint in containers and add whatever food colouring takes your fancy.



Of course the paints don't have the desired vibrancy of bought paints ... but my little tacker didn't seem to care.



What remains to be seen is if the food colouring comes off his hands and his clothes (hmmm...).

PS: I suppose every other parent in the world knows how to make paint and here I am thinking it's some great revelation...!

Strength

I'm not quite sure what's happened, but I have encountered a feeling I've not experienced for a while: I feel strong. At first I thought perhaps I was feeling content or happy and yes, those both apply, but I keep coming back to this word: strong.
It's a pretty sensational feeling.
Yesterday I felt the urge to go for a ride while E was asleep, so I pedalled hard for an hour and it felt nice. Today I went for a walk (too windy - hate riding in the wind) and found myself jogging sporadically. If there's one thing I don't do it's jog. Why the urge struck me, I don't know but I'm going with it.
Wonder what it all means?

***

Speaking of strong, my veggie garden is beginning to go gangbusters, particularly the zucchinis (which I am very excited about because they are my favourite veg).



It's very satisfying to see them do so well, especially as they started as a tiny seed. As you can see I have mulched. My goodness, that stuff made me itchy though. I am slightly sniffly around some grasses and I suspect that whatever gets up my nose was in this batch.
I wonder if I went too far though? I actually mulched my seedling nursery (ie four old pots) - are you meant to mulch over seeds or does this inhibit their growth?



I also attempted to take a photo of the tomato plants, to show they are almost as tall as me ... but I'm afraid this is as good as my photographic efforts get.



In order to take this I had to use the self-timer and it (I!) kept cutting off my head, so in the end I had to sit in front of the tomatoes ... perhaps they're not as tall as I thought!

PS: how's the zeitgeist? Sydney and Melbourne-ites might have seen the Real Food supplement in Saturday's paper. I mean, I know that growing your own veg is on-trend (indeed it's kinda my job to know such things) but I now feel like I may be part of a movement. Woohoo. It was actually a very good read, that supplement. All credit to them (because I know these things can sometimes just consist of fillers around the ads - I know this as, erm, sometimes I write such bumpf).

Toilet humour

I should probably apologise now for what I am about to write - you probably don't really want to know - but last night I spilt my son's wee on his head. I didn't mean to (of course!), but I was emptying his potty after, erm, its successful usage and I turned around and he was right there. Toddlers! They so know how to get under your feet.
I could be mean and say he deserves a little taste of his own medicine.
You see, last week as I was rushing to get ready for work I carried E to the change table to get his night nappy off and there was the sensation of something soft and warm on my foot. When I'd deposited him on the change table I looked down and there was a splodge of squishy poo, about the size of a golf ball, on the top of my foot.
I believe I shrieked.
Of course Shaun had already left for work so I had to carefully hobble to the bathroom, wipe it off, hoik foot into the sink, scrub ... all while E was instructed not to move on the change table. Amazingly I had my brand new cream linen skirt on ... and it was fine.
Small mercies.

First harvest

I love radishes.



These ones have virtually grown themselves. We've barely had to lift a finger.

Someone else likes them, too ... but heaven forbid that he actually eat one!

A picture says a thousand words?

Yesterday it occurred to me that I'd not sat down and done any painting with E for a while. So I pulled out some nice new paints and textas and off we went.

The first portrait the little lad offered up was of his dad:



I especially like the fact that one ear is red and one is green.

Then there's his Christmas star (which I'm thinking might actually look alright on this year's Xmas cards - if I get around to doing any).



The piece de resistance, however, has to be this:



Me: "Ooh, that's a nice picture, E. What's that one called?"

E: "It's called Grumpy Mummy."

I kid you not. I'd best starting saving for the poor child's therapy right now...