Just the sight of an empty suitcase waiting to be filled makes me hyperventilate. Filling suitcases fills ME with dread. Especially for five weeks worth of clothing & shoes.
I tell myself "it's summer in Europe, therefore lighter clothes, less
bulk" Then my evil twin reminds me of MY bulk; I've gained 6kilos since
last summer & I probably wont have anything that fits anyway..thanks
for that timely reminder.
Digging around in the wardrobe I break out some early pregnancy Supré baby-doll dresses. Supré actually saved my pregnancy with all their stretchy business trousers and fab loose dresses, so they deserve a plug here.
And Hey, it seems I'm having a food-baby; looking about about seven months along, so empire-line tees, A-Line EVERYTHING, and lots of loose soft floaty stuff purchased more recently during the down side of my ever
fluctuating weight.
After sitting on my suitcase & dragging at the zip- I feel.. what?
Exhausted? Relieved? Wishing I could have stuck with Atkins this time?
All of the above. But I know that when I unzip it at the other end it
will spew crushed clothing 50 feet into the air like a not-so-ready-to-
wear volcano.
Lucie packs her own case;
The full cast from Barbie's Mermaid Tale 2; (from left to right);
Hadley, Kylie Morgan, Merlea Summer, Fallon Casey, the doll that looks
like Barack Obama & Ken. (isn't it bad enough I'll have to try not
to loose my own sunglasses do I really need to keep tabs on this lot's
teeny tiny specs as well?)
Ok, Then we have the Wall-E plush, Puss-in-boots & Kitty-soft-paws.
Sleepy toys Bobo bunny & Flat Felix, the new Repunzel play kit (Also
paranoid re a potential loss of Pascal- who is the size of my
well-chewed little fingernail)
Also she's packed Charlie, Lola & Sizzles, a happy meal Shira (character from Ice Age 4) and the mandatory random elephant.
Basically every character from every DVD we've brought along and could expect to see on Krisworld's movie channels.
I'm grateful we're flying Singapore Airlines & not Qantas: the
planes are better, as is the consideration for tired parents in need of
their strollers right up to the boarding gate & right there on the
bridge at the other end.
This is our first attempt to fly straight through (no stop-overs) &
in hindsight it wasn't too shabby. Thanks to a little bribery (another
Polly Pocket to move into the dolls' house-gonna need some bunk-beds
soon), and 7mls of Valergan boarding the midnight connection, Lucie was
positively cheerful throughout.
The toughest part of the journey was waiting 6 hours around Paris
airport for our connecting flight to Bordeaux because Air France wanted
to gouge us triple the fare for an earlier flight-1300 euros for a 45
minute flight- stick that up your bums you opportunistic evil airline.
Lucie, having slept in the pusher for 2-3 of those was again an angel.
We sat in a cafe for a couple more hours & Lucie played with her
surfer Barbies & completed a world of colouring.
Air France is not an airline you want to take most of the time but even less when you are tired. They thoroughly enjoy taking their time, blowing their schedules to hell, and treating their passengers to their special Air France brand of arrogance & contempt. After creating a snaking queue 50 metres long, 10 minutes post scheduled take-off, instead of letting people getting on the damned plane, I was close to throwing a tantrum. Hate Air France-horrible, satanic airline.
Another 'Mother of' invention, the way Daddy person is breaking Lucie's neck is going to as well..
The beach at La Porge (45klm from Bordeaux) unlike many local 'ladies' neither Lucie or I of went topless
One of Lucie’s favourite places; Bordeaux centre has the most
wonderful carousel.
A new addition to the tiny village of la Porge; Intermarche supermarket! (and they sell Barbies)
Where's Bambi? La Porge's beautiful pine forest, this goes from the back of Grandma's house for another ten kilometres to the beach
Something else that runs along the road to the beach are the most wonderful array of roadside wildflowers
Still on the forest trail, looking for Bambi. We saw him on our last visit; a tiny little fawn and his mother. :0)
Inspired by the forest walk Lucie and I make a table center-peice which after dinner is donated to the fairy garden.
Every trip into Bordeaux centre means several more turns on the carousel...
let's see how many we have at the end of the trip?!
my lil' nose-picker: always adds a bit of class to any dining experience..
Mothers day is all about showing your mum how much u love her and need her : Mine goes something like this: I am woken at 6am with the usual screams of "muuuumeeee"- followed by relentless demands from both dog and child regarding food, play-time, affection & liquid refreshments. This process is peppered with angry shouts of "noooooo, not yuuuuuu Daaaddy!" as the'Daddy' person makes repeated unsuccessful attempts at not-so- divine intervention. " I want muuuuumeeeee!"
Making some tea, frustration gets the better of me and I snap "will u STOP nagging? You've gotta stop pestering me like this - get out of my face!" There's a sudden wail & a flood of tears from above so I rush up the stairs to a distraught little girl, to cup her tear-stained tortured little face in my hands: "baby, I didn't mean you- I was talking to *Buddy", I tell her.
We share a big cuddle sitting on the top step and she mumbles into my soggy shoulder "I've got tears in my ears Mummy."
See, thats what mothers Day is all about- loving Mum to pieces..many busy, exasperated, yawning pieces :0)
Aqua dining on Sydney Harbour is a treat especially their Mother's Day gig. :0)
*Buddy is a dog, a quiet, good mannered dog with a beautiful loving temperament....but he can nag and pester you with a single-mindedness that can make you nuts!
This is not my beautiful resort… I shoulda oughta known when the Melati Resort PR Manager met us at the airport. My first thought was ‘wow, that’s service for you’ Turned out it was a case of; ‘do you want the good news or the bad news’ Ok he’s in PR – he phrased it a bit better than that.
Bad news: there was apparently a terrible mix-up between online bookings & direct bookings resulting in over-booking and we have to spend one night in another resort. The good news – (kind of) we’ve have a pool-villa for the night in this more expensive Sala resort. And tomorrow when we will be transferred to our originally booked Melati we will be upgraded for the week to another pool villa.
Service is a bit like Bora-bora as in-oooh so veery relaxed- but aside from the random cockroach & the odd mozzie-its really very nice. It has one of those very chic designer outdoor bathrooms enclosed in floaty white georgette curtains.. that do not keep out the mozzies so I will not be taking a soak in the tub anytime soon. As it is every time you pee you pay for it with ten bites on your bum.
But despite the mozzie infested bathroom, it’s a bit glamorous and I’m hoping Melati isn't a let down after this. I felt a bit sorry for the PR manager, him being the messenger to be shot. I guessed he was up for a loooong & abusive day. But geez guys, try travelling with a 4-y-o who's has five hours sleep in the past 24 and not give her a place to lie down when she arrives.. do these people have children??
Happy Hour
Well, after we finished happy hour followed by a seafood bbq.. & by the way; Does NO ONE dress for dinner anymore? Lucie looked like a red-carpet candidate in comparison to the average punter. We're not in Paris that’s for sure but just as well since I left my Hermes scarf at home!(yes only one - a scandal by Parisian standards).
Ok I’m not that toffy, but do you want to try and enjoy your sunset dining experience facing Madame et Messieur Butt- Crack’s lower décolleté ?
But after multiple margaritas, slouching on a beach banquette, sandals at my feet and the sun slowly sinking below the horizon (as am I).
Have I mentioned that motherhood has turned me into a lush? Anyway I'm feeling especially forgiving - happy hour tends to do that to me, fortunately.
DAY 2:
Did I mention the fabulous pool? We cant get Lucie & her inflatable aeroplane out of it.
Small but fab; Sala Resort's pool
But, OH god, yesterday we where in residence on the banquette next to families Benson & Hedges ( cough much everyone?)- today its two very loud Israeli families- oh how they love to sing nursery-rhymes. Gaaaaaaa ! Think I'll get Lucie to hit them with a few dozen verses of Crabs & Seashells ....
Sala is a lovely resort, despite the neighbouring banquette-babble. the villa is gorgeous, but we'll be relieved to say goodbye to our little private pool, clearly designed by Death-Traps-R-Us.
Not to worry- we're hitching our wagons at high noon so we'll see soon if we need to get outa Dodge (Melati) too. Maybe it will turn out & the villa upgrade will be worth the awkward logistics. ???
Lush and Eternal optimist, me.
DAY 2- PM:
Melati resort-Phew.
Ok the foyer scared me, I looked at the garish tiled pillars and the gilt-framed paintings of Thai-royals over the entrance and I developed a nervous tick. (Too much kitschness can bring me out in a rather nasty rash actually) I thought, this ‘aint Philippe Stark (or even IKEA)
But the pool villa rocks my socks off! ( or would if it weren't too hot to wear them) Nice big bedroom with a dressing room, enormous bathroom, separate Lounge come bedroom for Lucie, where you can actually open the doors & sit on the floor, paddling your feet in the pool still watching TV - which Lulu thinks is an excellent concept...
Hang on a minute...the penny drops and my smile turns into a mask of horror . Lucie's - sliding -bedroom door - opens - directly - over - the -flipping - pool!!!!
Another Death-Traps-R-Us product -gaaaah
We spend the next 30 minutes tampering with the lock so that sucker wont open... Ever again.
On the upside the little pool has gentle steps rather than an underwater, skull-cracking-body trapping shelf, which we consider a definite bonus.
Pool villas; equal parts luxe & danger. On one hand u don't have French & Italians confiscating the best shady pool-side-pozzies with a strategically placed towel & a hat FROM !!. (How bloody annoying is that?) On the other hand you & more importantly your offspring are eating sleeping & generally scurrying about 'inside' the safety fence.
Ok enough about pool etiquette - lets talk about hair.
I have left my hair straightener in Sydney <gasp>.
Ok in Bali's humidity my hair resembled a sheepskin car seat cover and I had my straightener on that trip- so you can only imagine... Lucie bless her says I look pretty like her Barbie (See photo & you'll understand why I'm not flattered)
"Mummy your hair is pretty like Barbie"
Laurent compared me to Nicole Kidman circa Day's Of Thunder' still not sure if that’s good. But since he managed to swipe a bougainvillea with Lucie's pool plane, puncturing it, I am grateful that in my packing panic I put a puncture kit in my toilet bag instead of my straightener :0)
Finally after much debate and four holiday- hair-look-alike runners up, we decided on Fatal Attraction's Glenn Close -" [the hair] will NOT be ignored" .
DAY 3: After a post breakfast, re-enactment of
The Exorcist- read: projectile vomiting ALL over & around our
poolside lounge, our clothes, towels, shoes and Barbie- Lucie feeling
the lightness of losing her load and bursts into song in the bath-tub. Her previous aversion to all things bath- related completely forgotten...
Barbie manages to keep smiling now the vomit has been washed from her blonde curls, and it seems we are in for the afternoon watching Puss in Boots on loop.
no one thought to hold Barbie's hair
when the vomiting started :0(
All traces (smells, stains) of the carnage from our little Lynda Blair are gone and forgotten - just another day at the office.. Not so much Perhaps for the smarty-pants punters who 'reserved' their places by the pool next to us <he he> :0)
DAY 4:
Some of the tourist activities should come with warnings beyond 'dont litter' (which even the tour operators ignore). I have a few suggestions here;
(1) Beware of smiling polite pharmacy assistants who will charge you 1000. BHT ($30) for insect repellent if they can get away with it
(2) if you are told "easy walk just 20 minutes.." double that & bring your rock climbing kit.
We went to look at waterfall two which involved five long minutes being thrown about in the tray of a 4x4 having our butts scalded whenever they hit the scorching black vinyl bench. Then poor husband proved his worth as a mountain goat, carrying our daughter on his shoulders up a rough-as-guts track about 500 metres long. We nearly gave up at the 470 metre mark.
The waterfall's pristine beauty was totally lost on Lucie who had decided from about 150metres that she would face her fears and ride an elephant. This is all we heard about for the next hour as we struggled up and then down the other side of the horribly scary track.
Which included another kind of ride for Lucie; across the waterfall from boulder to slippery boulder, clinging onto a very sweaty Daddy-goat. It was about 37 Celsius and 150% humidity by this stage :0/
Apart from the huge red ants raining on me from god-knows-where, the Elephant ride was waaaay more kid ( and parent) friendly.
notice how the 'saddle ' is held in place by a few pieces of garden hose?
Lucie was so proud, once again she burst into song. For Mrs Elephant's pleasure were honoured with delightfully creative versions of Baa Baa black sheep & twinkle twinkle little star. (I'm afraid Lucie takes after her father when it comes to lyrical accuracy & innovation).
Stopping for a late lunch in Fisherman's Village could have been appreciated a bit more for it's quaint little market stalls and waterfront cafes, excellent fish menus…unfortunately nursing a mild dose of post-traumatic stress disorder, Lucie wasn't the only one feeling tired and tantrummy. The morning's hill/rock climb (and the red-ant slap-fest) had just knocked the stuffing out of us.
And I still chew my nails remembering following my husband with our child perched on his shoulders , staggering over a hand-made bamboo escarpment that a Circ du Solieil performer wouldn't touch with a barge-pole.
The next tourist warning sign I read said 'no nude swimming'.
Yeah super-helpful that one..
Ok enough words now, lets just do pictures;
A little post-vomit relaxation
Melati's beach pool
Lucie's sea-pane. oh so very glad I packed this (and the puncture kit)
So
there I am parked across the driveway of a block of flats, for almost 20
minutes, hazard lights blazing- tearing the car apart because someone in the back booster seat having energetically
popped the lid of a box of teeny-tiny-baby-animals was screaming her guts out that her all-time favourite; "TEENY-TINY-BABY-ELEPHANT IS LOSHED MUMMY!
STOP THE CAR! WAAAAAAHHHHHHH” ..
I discovered a lot of things trawling around the floor of
our car in those 20 minutes; some unidentifiable, some a bit disgusting and
some, like the teeny-tiny-baby dolphin-frankly
a relief. But none of the items recovered/discovered/ unearthed, remotely
resembled her beloved teeny-tiny-baby-elephant, who was in fact at home in the
dolls house watching TV with "finger-puppet -elephant".
Spot the teeny-tiny-baby- elephant. Then spot the carrot...
I hereby decree that no toy smaller than a golf ball is
allowed in the car at any time ESPECIALLY DURING SCHOOL RUNS!
Who invented this microscopic crap anyhow? Whoever they are, they need to be sat down and
given a good stern talking to, getting
our children addicted to their ridiculously minuscule collectibles. And worse are these irresponsible parents
parting hard earned cash to support this kind of childhood addiction..
Oh that would be me – oops, my bad.
Gaaaah! Little voice just called from the bathtub, "where's
my teeny tiny baby whale, mummy?"
and just as I’ve noticed teeny-tiny-baby hamster’s lost his teeny tiny
carrot...AGAIN.
Is it vodka o’clock yet?
This is how my day winds down. Ha ha.
After applying two more coats of deck oil, scrubbing the
bird crap off in between, I washed and hung out a load of sheets (it’s stopped
raining for a whole day for the first time in about 2 months – some summer). I
then drove to Bunning’s for those rubber stoppers you put on chairs so your new
outdoor furniture will stop carving out rivets in the deck, and I came home to
completely and thoroughly shat-on sheets.
Bloody birds.
If it’s not the possums paint-balling the settee cushions, it’s
the damned birds Jackson Pollocking our bed linen. Now they need to be rewashed
and a whopping dirty cumulonimbus is ambling across the sky.
I really think its time I got a real job and started a charge
account at the dry cleaner.
OK, vodka number two in hand, I’m peeping into the doll’s
house, and there on the dining room table, in the teeny-tiny-fruit bowl, next
to the teeny-tiny ear of corn and the teeny-tiny half peeled banana (we don’t have
a teeny-tiny-baby-monkey yet) is Teeny-tiny-baby-hamster’s teeny-tiny-carrot! And
look; there’s teeny-tiny-baby-piggy in the armchair, (bonus).
Meemo, the teeny-tiny-baby-hamster reunited with his elusive carrot.
Considering that’s just made my day, maybe I need to get a life?
PS. In
the event you have masochistic tendencies, These beautiful albeit infuriating
teeny-tiny-baby-rubber animals are from The Eraser Museum
Other,
mummy torturing favourites (including the elusive teeny-tiny-carrot) are from
the Littlest
Pet Shop range:
6am:
Lucie wakes me in tears to hunt for
Polly Pocket's left shoe
6.45: The next domestic disaster necessitates my gluing a railway bridge
back together
8.15 Feeling smug; ready to
leave the house.. but don't manage get into the car for another 15
8.35 Show and tell rehearsals "A is for Apron"..."what do we use an apron for?"...
8:38 School run; notice a rabbit running flat out along the footpath
towards the pre-school building. Lucie and I in hysterics speculating it's being
late for school and whether it's in 'toddlers' or 'pre-school'. Lucie decides it's a toddler.
9.15 Post drop off - which is alway more of a slow linger than a drop- I walk Buddy while texting,
ball tossing, making appointments, returning calls & picking up pooh.
9.45 At home; scrub Lucie's
wading pool again and patch five leaks (which with washing on the line, pretty much guarantees the weather will turn to shit by afternoon).
10.20 Scrub the new deck with acid
wash twice
11.30 Head out in search of
out-door furniture covers as the plan to leave the cushions out overnight meant
they where covered in possum excrement. I don’t know what those possums eat, but
our chairs looked like they’d been in the middle of a paint-ball war.
Stop @ BP, Clarke
Rubber, BBQ's galore& Outdoor Furniture Specialists. Head home only with a
couple of throw cushions.
1pm Scrub stubborn stains on the deck again, then strip Lucie's bed,
fill up washer & start sewing new sheets, pillow cases and repair underlay
3pm Pack up sewing & make
Lucie's bed- step on Polly's left shoe in
the process & put it on her foot. Throw another load into the washer
3.30 Cleaning up the sewing
threads turns into a thorough vacuum all through the house
3.50 Head to supermarket
4.20 Load up the car & go
pick up Lucie who is very upset having to leave behind a superhero teddy that
belongs in the classroom toy-box. I promise we will make one her teddies into a
superhero when we get home, & her tears are immediately replaced by
excitement.
5.05 Swing by Mackers drive-thru
because I've missed lunch & I'm ready to eat the crotch out of a low flying
seagull.
5.20 Arrive home with an
excited child demanding her own super-teddy, drag the groceries from the car-
stuff the perishables into the fridge-quickly staple Iggle Piggle's blanket
around teddy's neck (after locating an un-broken stapler) and get to work
turning a Xmas gift tag into a super-hero mask.
5.45 Start cooking Lucie's
dinner while putting away the other groceries, bagging up beef chipolatas for
the freezer & throwing more stuff into the washer.
Somehow manage NOT to set off the smoke alarm for the first time in a week- which
is an excellent result.
6.05 Sponge bath, cream &
put Lucie into her pyjamas.
6.20 While she is still wading
through dinner I slap a coat of deck oil on the deck. (another open invitation to bad weather) Just as I finish Lucie,
having completely lost interest in Super-teddy, pitches a teeny tiny plastic
carrot across the lounge and on it’s third bounce - it vanishes. This carrot is
vitally important to her universe & she cannot go to bed until it is found.
6.40 Rescued by early return
home of husband.
6.45 Put deck oil tray &
applicator in laundry sink and conduct thorough torch-lit search under
furniture for minuscule plastic carrot which is well hidden under one of the
speakers.
Meanwhile the toothbrush war rages upstairs.
7-8 Regular bed-time-parent
hostage situation: Husband as hostage, Mum as FBI hostage negotiator
At 4pm, when I should
be in the school run, I’m actually gluing the beak back on a tiny penguin. Having already stuck the belly back on a
humpback whale, and the ears on a panda. It’s a long story.
In the countdown to Christmas, Lucie’s 4th Birthday,
and half her other pals’ too, I need presents! MORE PRESENTS!
I also need treat bags. A tradition I only recently learned
about, along with other mysteries like school holidays, teacher’s gifts and so
on, I am assembling Lucie’s birthday treat bags for her class-mates
tomorrow, and after calling the pre-school I’m faced with the hard fact that I
need TWEN-TY-ONE!!!!!
So each bag has a balloon, a Chuppa-chup, a Kinder chocolate, a
whistle and I found these cute little rubber animals (they’re actually Japanese
designed collectible erasers). But
realising I would come up way short, I bought a five-pack of cheaper imitations that
looked exactly the same…until you open the packet and they tumble out in pieces.
What
would I do without superglue?
Just another of those random tasks that
falls to a mother that she can’t remember when other women ask “what do you do
with your time? why are you always so busy?”
Other random tasks that fell to this mother during the week were nine pre-school
teachers to buy gifts for; four really special ones for her teachers for the
past two years, three less special ones for her new teachers and little presents for all the
casual staff who also do an excellent job
.
Then there are the afore mentioned take-to-school birthday treat bags
to assemble, another twelve on-the-day-birthday party bags (where I went way overboard), gifts for our elderly ex-neighbors, a total of six kid's birthday parties to shop for and attend.. then
there was Lucie's first ever birthday party. And this is all outside of the
normal run-of-the-mill Christmas shopping which I haven't started.
I realised that I was getting a bit gift-obsessive when I started
looking for ideas for the council guys who collect our garbage... I know they do a fab job and they're always very forgiving when I wave them down because we've forgotten to put out all the bins. But what did I think I was going to do? - stand on the curb at 5am wearing PJ's and a Santa hat with an arm full of parcels?
Hey, it's the thought that counts, right?
:0)
And how's this for recycling? 12 failed attempts at a passport photo became this years christmas card!
My husband says "just sit her on a stool with the white wall behind and take her photo".. yeah right!
We have a trip to India planned for the new year, but for some reason, being allowed to holiday in a third world country involves more paperwork than your average mortgage application and ID checks that would do the FBI proud.
(There must more illegal immigrants from Australia than I imagined) So despite our good current Aussie passports, we apparently need some heavy duty visas and that means more photos.
I was actually hoping to avoid the whole passport photo thing for another year, when Lucie’s passport needs renewing. I imagine her being more of an age then, where I might be able to ask her to sit still for a nanosecond and have her oblige.
The first time around for passport photos I was given some pretty tough instructions:
Show the baby awake, looking straight at the camera, both edges of the face clearly visible, with a neutral expression, mouth closed, and no pacifier.
I thought “but she doesn’t have head control yet and you want me to tell her to keep a neutral expression? Are you insane?” I was also told her neck had to be visible, which sent me into a complete tail-spin, but fortunately that wasn’t correct.
But a very helpful photographer gave me a tip that worked out fine; ‘Lie her on a white rug on the floor, put a rolled hand-towel under the rug under her neck then take the photos from above her’. Good tip – saved my life.
Young as she was, Lucie did have a considerable repertoire of ‘other’ facial expressions that apparently needed to be expressed first, but in the end after about 30 mug-shots, she tired of face pulling and I achieved that elusive ‘neutral expression’.
Nowadays Lucie is about as helpful as the dog in front of the camera. (He’s like a canine version of George Clooney but wont sit still for a heartbeat – it’s a total waste of a gorgeous face)
Ok so Lucie’s not a supermodel. She is however, still very partial to pulling faces. To make matters worse (for me) having a warped sense of humour (where did she get that I wonder?) she also enjoys my frustration to the point where she cracks up laughing at me the more stressed I get and the more begging I do.
Again, after a lot of shutter clicking, I emailed one borderline-acceptable-photo ot the travel agent, but the jury’s still out on whether it’s up to India’s Secret Service’s standards.
If they reject this one, I am going to bite the bullet - fight the chaotic Christmas traffic, the parking pandemonium and hand her over to a professional passport photographer. Let them deal with her antics before mummy develops Carpal Tunnel Syndrome from pressing the shutter button.
