Ballerina Lollipop

This little girl is like a delicious gobstopper lolly.

Layers of jaw-aching sweetness.

One of my highlights is spending one-on-one time with her at a cafe over a baby-chino.

Although trying to scrub her artwork off the floors has to come a close second.

I am just so blessed by her creativity.

Now that I think of it, her refusal to eat dinner and disobedient jumping on the couch, flinging her head back and shattering the glass of this picture does also compete for the Fab Time awards.

But I must confess, it was Tuesday's little dash to the ER to get her stomach pumped that really took the cake I think. Her rebellious over-indulgence in a bottle of chewable multi-vitamin tablets took our relationship to enchanting new heights. That was an excellent day.

However, finding her cheerfully entangled in irreplaceable cassette tapes from my childhood was another shot of sheer love that took care of the following day.

Ah, this child.

She is beauty, and mischief

in one dynamic package.

Her end of year preschool show, held at the auspicious Raffles Hotel, complete with ballroom and chocolate fountain, chefs in white hats and acrobatics
was a completely necessary and breath-taking event on Friday.

For it allowed us to sit back and be reminded

to keep licking a sense of humour
and holding the disasters up to the light
to watch the sparkles

as we are drenched in joyful delight

from her latest creative antics.

Clearly, Santa is not to be trusted when you are 3.

She edged close enough to snaffle the gift and gap it.

She dropped her marshmallow on the grubby passageway floor and then ate it gleefully.

But I didn't mind.

I kept looking through my lens and snapping,

gathering up the memories,

and smiling as I slept.

For I know I will miss this when she is lanky, grumpy and cranking her i-pod to distressingly high decibel levels, chewing gum and leaving her impossibly hard maths homework to the last minute. I adore my other offspring too, please don't get me wrong.

They just don't stop me mid-sentence when all I hear is silence.
I don't rush to find them as soon as they leave the room
and they don't DARE touch my makeup.

I am writing this post for myself to read in the future weeks/month/years of parental adrenalin fatigue to distract myself from repeatedly banging my head against the wall, or rocking back and forth deliriously in a corner.



Little things I am unwrapping today:

A sunny space in my bedroom to curl up with my tea

Advent calendars

Christmas carols

Fairy lights

Freshly baked cinnamon buns

Pretty new luggage tags

A wicker star on my front door

French tips


Well stocked biscuit tins

Sage green satin ribbon

Date night

Crisp white bedlinen

M2's pure voice singing in Latin

A jaunty red lantern

Chamomile and lavender tea

The bird that whistles outside in a way I just
have to whistle back

Scented furniture polish

Coconut milk and coriander curry

Magnolia hand soap and cream in kitchen

The Book Depository

Jaffa Orange Curd on crunchy gluten-free toast

Wooden pegs that keep M3 quiet for an hour

Letting dough rise outside instead of in a hot-water cupboard

Butterscotch baking drops

Discovering new candy and pretending it's fruit

I am cradling the tiny pleasures with luminous delight,
like tiny fireflies that glow in the dark,
one gratitude fluttering to another.

-- --



Loving in my weekend reflections:

these three fat angels bought at $2 a piece,

my handsome hands-on hubby, to whom no task is beyond
and who is a happy accident in the kitchen colour coordination dept :)

this sweet kid making dinner with confident aplomb,

stumbling on this cheese from my own little NZ hometown
quite by chance in a local supermarket,
which made for delicious chicken, camembert and red onion pizzas.

sprinkled with pickled chillies,
and chased down with chilled Pink Moscato.

Kilometers of beautiful street decorations that made my babies oooooh and aaaaaah.

Soaking wet night time fun on the street corner outside our local mall
under a huge Christmas tree made of cd's,
a foam machine churned out imitation snow.

I am taking the time to unwrap the present.


In thanks

This is our table.

Last night as many around the world,
and especially in NZ,
light candles in remembrance of those who were lost
we lit the white candles that sit on every table in our lounge.

It is a kind and gentle time, my evening ritual of the soft butter-warm flicker.
Last night thunder rolled outdoors with the scent of rain mingling with apple cider and cinnamon tealights and the voile drapes fluttered in the night air.
Bocelli's voice came softly too
and I sat still,
and remembered.

And was thankful.

--- --- ---

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.

It turns what we have into enough, and more.
It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity.
It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.

Gratitude makes sense of our past,
brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.
Melody Beatti


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