school hols- a retrospective

The school holidays finished two days ago and once again (perhaps thankfully) there is the reinstated and familiar routine of early wake up, drop off, regimented nap times, kindy, pick ups etc

But I do love the school holidays. I really miss the big boy (who has been at school for nearly a year now). Though, I'm not particularly good at organizing myself during the holidays, and more often than not, I am prompted by other mum's ideas of ideal outings and get togethers.

I'm not sure I have the stamina for full time events coordinating and the intensification of 'doing' a million and one things and paying through the nose for it all. They make their own fun most of the time, so I can continue having mine! (that's not technically neglect is it?)

We did host play dates and we were guests at others. We made huts and ice blocks and went for a ride on the tram. We train spotted, and there was a session of kiddy yoga too.

But mostly breakfasts dragged out into lunch times and lunches into another round of snacks. Boredom came in the form of cuddling and reading on the couch, for hours, like blobby lounge lizards.

The days all rolled into one ...and the play dough into the carpet.

I took 3 boys to the movies to see Toy Story 3 (tho prey tell why must we be subjected to half an hour of unsolicited crappy trailers before the movie has even begun? They didn't even seem age appropriate. And we ran to get there in record time, trying not to be late, and had one kid fall over and eat concrete in the rush ...in time for said crappy trailers) It was schmaltzy and cliche but its pixar and it is good.

We had a vomit bug... eeeerr... yellow bile. Enough said.

The highlight of the holidays had to be visiting the local lock shop and seeing the vaults, safes, electric key pads and trying our hand (and ears) on the manual combination dials. There were also photos of safes after burglars had tried unsuccessfully to break into them with blow torches etc ...the boys were fascinated to no end.

Obviously there is always a lot of craft. Boxes strewn everywhere and sellotape galore. A house decked out like a mid winter christmas tree.

After watching Mary Poppins (we must be nearing the 100 mark) we thought of the hungry birds outside "tuppence for the birds" so we made birdie biscuit treats.

Chop stick perches poked in take away coffee cups,

match sticks tied with string to hold the mixture in muffin cups once it sets,

the unbearable smell of animal fat wafting through the house for too long afterwards.

The strategic positioning of treats within birds reach in the familiar old pear tree down the back of yard.

And the medals we made and awarded ourselves, for being funny people and tolerating each other, and for living in each others pockets as best we can, in a small house that by the end of the holidays began to feel as if it was closing in on us all.

Mine is the mother hen one, of course.

running rapaki

Autumnal blur. The poplar leaves are falling bright yellow and temporarily taking over where the sun left off.

I love the wind. I love to rug up and venture outside and trot like a goat up small mountains. I have a knack for making the people that love me the most, concerned for my well being and worry that I will get blown off said small mountains. But nothing will stop me within reason. 

Heavily pregnant and dressed like the Michelin man, I would stomp these slopes sometimes almost at 45 degree angles in hail and thunderstorms. The more extreme the weather, the more enticing it is. It is exhilarating to run around these parts when its sleeting or covered in snow. 

My thoughts are different when I run up here. Less trivial. I feel closer to some aspect of god, and to my own sense of fragility. I iron out the big stuff, love and loss. It is as if I have a 'google earth' perspective and I can clearly see which life's path to take at a particular cross road to get me closer to where I need to be. I write mental letters to the people I love and talk to people that are no longer alive. I grapple, I struggle, I laugh and cry. 

I keep my momentum as I move through the thoughts in my head and the scenery that echos the words unspoken.

It's hard to know what to say when someone asks "how was your run?". I talk of the weather and how many other people I saw (if any) and what condition my body was in. But so much remains private and indescribable.

The boys sometimes look at me slightly puzzled (yes I am wet and bedraggled, probably stinky and thirsty too). At 5 and 3 years old they might not be sure of the purpose these runs serve, but at least they have some sense of the hours lapsed and the location. They have started asking me when they can come too. And my heart melts because I think they get it. They may be small boys now, but one day they will be testosterone filled teenagers and really fit and able. And they know this and already they want in on the physicality, the mystery, the satisfaction. 

After I finished my run, I came across my old friend Dog.

Dog is partially blind and prone to being defensive.

He is often waiting like this, for the next thing to happen, whatever it may be.

He was lying out in the wind and rain when he could of taken shelter.

He was putting the world to right and ironing out a few things too, I think.