I spot a double rainbow when I go out to the laundry.
Spring has started to flit past us.
Little scents, sights and sounds start to create a spring like air of pre-burst expectation.
The temperatures are still very low but the sun has got his hat on, as they say.
Hip, hip, hip, hip, hooray!
The children tumble out the back door in response to my window tapping.
And feel every word of wonder and exclamation they say when they see the firm colours etched into the soft grey of the clouds.
They would stand there all day, gazing, if we didn’t draw them out of the chilly air to do something by the fire.
The birthday celebration on the weekend was punctuated by Two Foot Guru’s shrill instructions to Dad.
It says on the treasure hunt clue to turn left up here.
And so he does.
Today she is boss.
She loves it.
The first playground is indoors.
The second outdoors and played in between rain clouds.
The third the same.
Evidently the third playground is the best but she isn’t sure why.
At each stop she gets a few of the presents we’ve received in the mail for her, and the couple we got her/made her.
She doesn’t want to let go of any of them and it takes some convincing to get her to let me put the guitar in the boot as we’ve run out of room in the car.
When we get home she starts strumming.
She makes up words and writes half a dozen songs in half an hour.
Her keen sense of humour shines through when she comes into the kitchen, runs her finger tips across the strings once and then cackles.
That was the shortest song in the world mum.
She also informs me she can only play her songs once because she can’t remember them.
The Lego from Dad also gains her absolute attention.
I bust her still building by torch light and have to apply a curfew to the instruction books.
When I get her up in the morning she is cuddling the polar bear one of our friends brought her back from her trip to the Arctic.
Trying to get her ready for the bus in the morning I find her sitting in front of the fire, stark naked, strumming her guitar.
Do you want me to play you a song mum?
Um, aren’t you getting splinters in your bum?
No – do you want a song?
Er, I want you to get dressed so you are ready to catch the school bus.
Struuuuuum….says the guitar insolently.
That evening she wooshes past me, One Foot Guru chasing after her.
The satin cape flickers out like the real thing and she thunders down the hall.
One Foot Guru has one arm stuck out in front in a copy of her super flying but his monotone yelling makes him more of a Dalek.
She packs her cape in her school bag the next day to take in for “news”.
The previous night I studiously removed all Lego instructions as I said goodnight and busted her reading her books from One Foot Guru – a dress up the knights sticker book, a find the footy book, a first dictionary and the, ever wise beyond its appearance, “Oh the places you’ll go”book by the poetic Dr Suess. (A book everyone should have a copy of and read regularly, it is up there with the poems “If”and “Desiderata”).
I’m going to call this a success.
Meanwhile, I’ve gotten the husband addicted to Bollywood movies.
For reasons I have no way of explaining – I’ve always had a great fascination with India, ever since I was a child.
At university I lived on campus with a lot of international students, including some from India.
They introduced me to Bollywood.
I’ve introduced the husband.
Now it has almost become a tradition – saturday night is Bollywood night.
It has brought us a closeness we haven’t had since before we had kids.
It’s nice (and colourful and musical and spiritual).
I’ve been very much enjoying getting up before dawn (or at, as they days grow short again) and doing yoga in front of the fire.
I don’t turn the lights on, so it is warmth and light.
The only thing that ruins the mood a little is a row of fuzzy little piddy faces peering down at me as I lay back – squeaking conversationally about when I think breakfast might be served?
I’m starting to feel that sense of rhythm creep back into the days.
Less of a planned thing and more like watercolours bleeding across paper.
I’m starting to stop.
Get down to the kid’s level.
Let them make me smile and laugh.
One Foot Guru is going through a developmental stage at the moment and is temperamental.
Either gloriously happy or filled with fury.
I’ve been trying to talk him through his grumpy stages and asked him if he was feeling a bit flat?
No Mamma! You a big splat!
Mhm.
This evening he wrapped his arms around my neck and kept me kneeling on the floor whilst he delivered about thirty “snail” kisses on each cheek.
I started laughing uncontrollably.
Not because it was funny.
But because I was so happy, just right there, then.
I’d forgotten you can laugh because you are happy.
I’ve been able to open a few windows these past few days.
Air the house out.
It does bring in a bit of a chill.
But it smells like green and sunshine.
In the morning the sun stretches across our bed like a naughty dog.
One Foot Guru and I are often tempted to lay and bathe in the yellow warm.
Often with moments of silent reflection.
Me daydreamy dreaming.
The husband and I sat down at the kitchen table the other night.
With my old Earth Garden and Country Style magazines (I never throw out my magazines they are too beautiful) and dreamydreamed over a place of our own, one day.
It was the first time the husband had done this (or read my magazines).
He decided he felt confident he could do any fix it jobs we had as he could see some bodgy stuff in the magazine.
Look at this place – they’ve not even bothered to remove all the old wallpaper, the gaps aren’t filled and they’ve just left the floor boards or painted them white! (french country style, shabby chic)
The next day he told me he’s getting his workplace to apply for eco-assistance (about which he read in my Earth Garden mag).
Wow.
To top off a lovely few days the power went out this morning.
Power, water – essentials elsewhere are sort of optional extras here (like when a hotel lists opening windows as a bonus).
Anyhow, in the middle of breakfast everything went black (the sun was yet to join us at the breakfast table).
I lit a candle.
We had a candle lit breakfast.
The kids loved it.
They were running early, for a change.
They gazed at the dancing flame and talked in hushed tones.
Suddenly oats were terribly romantical.
Two Foot Guru was early for the bus.
Tomorrow – just about breakfast time – I’ve told the husband that if the kids are not co-operating…go switch the mains off.
