Monday 16 December 2013

The Elf


We did it. We succumbed. We bought into the whole Elf on the Shelf thing. I was excited.

I fully and freely admit that I am a parent who happily lies to her children. I tell them Santa is real. I tell them to believe in fairy dust and reindeer's that fly and that an Elf can live on our shelf in December and report back to Santa about the comings and goings in our house.

I tell them to believe in magic.

So excitedly, one evening a couple of weeks ago, the night before we went away on a holiday, I put on the Elf on the Shelf DVD while the girls ate dinner. They watched, their brows furrowed. Clearly this was not Dora, Umizoomi's, Banana's, Mickey Mouse, Bubble Guppies, Barbie, Princesses. This was unfamiliar.

"Um Mum? What is this?" (The Eldest)
"Don like it" (The Youngest)

After dinner, I encouraged them into the lounge room where the Elf on the Shelf box was prominently and prettily displayed next to the TV. They didn't even notice. My children who can spot a 5cm high picture of Dora at a hundred paces, paid not attention whatsoever to the box.

"Oh look!" I exclaim. "Our own Elf on the Shelf!".

Silence. Bewildered looks. Brows furrowed.

"Why?" they ask.

This was not quite going to plan. Nevertheless, I pushed on, pulling out the Elf, reading the book. We eventually got to the point of naming her Sparkles (we managed to bypass the poo-head suggestion from The Youngest) and placed her on the shelf.

Cue massive tantrum from The Youngest who wanted to hold (poo-head) Sparkles and another tantrum from The Eldest who was adamant it needed to be on the shelf.

Cue pouring the first glass of wine.

Then proceeded half an hour of rigorous interrogation from The Eldest.

  • how does she fly?
  • how does have magic?
  • why can't I touch her?
  • why won't she talk to me?
  • Chip was alive in the movie but she looks like a toy to me. Why?
  • Why does she go back to Santa?
  • How does she know where Santa lives?
  • Why is at my house?
  • Do other children have elves?
  • What are their elves names?
  • Can I watch her fly?
  • Can she take me to Santa's house?
  • and on and on and on. 
This did not the slightest bit magical and I wanted the magic. This felt torturous. I was not sure the Elf would be allowed to stay. 

The following evening we left Ottawa on a week's holiday. The Elf came along, sitting in the front of the car, in a little nook. 4 hours of driving involved this conversation on high repeat. 

"Daddy. I can't see the Elf." Hubby shines phone light on Elf. The Eldest is pacified for 2 mins. 
Hubby was ready to throw the Elf out the window. However, the Elf made in to Syracuse, the Philadelphia and the New York City. Every night she would appear in a different part of the hotel room. The girls had warmed up to the concept of the Elf, excitedly waking up to see where the Elf was every morning. The magic had finally arrived. Sparkles even followed us to Macy's when we went to see Santa, hiding in the Christmas display. 


The magic lasted until approximately midday on the 5th December, as we drove out of New York City and up towards Lake Placid, and I shouted out without thinking '#$%!! We left the Elf in the hotel room!". 

Calmly from the back of the car came the voice of pure innocence. 
'Don't worry Mumma. The elf can fly. She'll be at our next hotel'. 

Um. Yep. Well. I hope so. I say as I frantically call the hotel and as surreptitiously as I can, organise for the Elf to be posted safely back to Ottawa. 

So it was a tremendous and terrible surprise when on arriving at Lake Placid, we received a phone call from Santa, saying Sparkles got hit by a gust of wind and blew into a tree hurting her arm. She would need to spend 5 days in Elf hospital but would be back soon (fingers crossed). (Thankfully in the Elf on the Shelf DVD Chippie ends up in Elf hospital, so this (lie) situation was well received by the small folk in the room). 

The elf did return within 5 days, bringing a letter from Santa and Christmas books with her for the little girls who missed her so much. Complete with bandage on the injured arm. 





And as my hubby said, maybe it was a blessing in disguise that Sparkles got 'hurt'. The wonder and excitement in my girls eyes when they saw Sparkles had returned, was the magic I had wanted from the start. 

Sometimes you just have to wait a little while for it to appear. 

J xxx


[Disclaimer: I lie about lots of other things too. The park is closed today. Children aren't allowed at the supermarket today. There is no chocolate in the house. Just to name a few. There are people who say they never lie to their children. I think they are lying to themselves.]

Friends

I have been lucky over the years to count so many wonderful women as my friends.

I learnt the true meaning of friendship back in year 8, when the girls in my 'friendship' group decided to 'exclude' me several times just for the fun of it. The result of which led me to a new group of friends, that lasted well beyond school and many of which I still stay in contact with and hold dear to my heart.

There are the friends who I met at work and have become so much more than colleagues.
The friends I met through other friends and the mutual friendship grew into our friendship.
The friends I met while travelling as we shared explored new places together.
The friends I met through my mothers groups and the bond that grows as your children grow together.

Each one of you has made a difference in my life and even though I am far away from so many of you, I know when I do see you again, it will be like no time has passed and the conversation will flow as we catch up and share our stories.

I was watching tv a number of years ago, and the comedian Dave Hughes made the comment (and forgive the political incorrectness) that his wife loved her mothers group the way fat people love cake.

And that is exactly how I feel about my friends. My life would be so much less of a life without you, my friends in it.

And my reason for writing this down, is that as I sit here reflecting on the life we have been building in Ottawa since August, I am incredibly thankful for three amazing women.

Emma, Dina and Olivia. You have become my 'family', my 'go to girls', my 'rocks'. I am so incredibly lucky to be able to count the three of you as friends, to have you in my life here. I would be so incredibly homesick without you. You are amazing women, with huge hearts and open arms, that have embraced me and my girls and given us the support and friendship we needed to find our feet in a foreign country.

Christmas is not the same without family around, and I am so happy that I get to spend Christmas with the three of you and your families. You are my Canadian family. Thankyou for your friendship, the laughs, the chats, the coffee and the playdates.

J xxx


Monday 11 November 2013

What would you want to say to your child in 50 years time?


Recently, The Eldest brought home a time capsule, donated to each student at her school, for us to fill and return to school. The time capsule, then, would be stored in a new build in Ottawa, to be returned to the student and opened in 50 years time.

50 years time. Which, when one works out the math...hurts.

In 50 years time, The Eldest will be 54. The Youngest will be 52. Hubby and I will be 89, well past current life expectancy for both men and women, and therefore unlikely to still be here. And so I cried. A lot. And it made working out what to put into the time capsule incredibly hard.

What do you say to your children, 50 years down the track, not knowing the turns in their lives and what words they should receive / want to receive / need to receive from their (potentially deceased) parents.

Thankfully, The Eldest had some of her own ideas. She was insistent that we included some of her hair, so she could see what colour her hair was when she was four. So, into the time capsule, went two locks of hair, one for The Eldest and one for The Youngest, brown and straight, blonde and curly. Soft as silk.

In went a picture of her family under a rainbow, painstakingly drawn and coloured in.

Space, however was an issue. The time capsule was small. Very briefly, I contemplated putting in a USB drive with files on it, but considering how rapidly technology is changing, it could be rendered useless and therefore immensely disappointing. Whereas the written word can always be read (as long as the ink hasn't faded!!!).

Folded paper takes up a lot of space, so after a lot of thought, in to the time capsule went messages from their grandparents (what treasure!), a few photos of themselves, our dog and us as a family.

In went the blog posts I wrote to both girls for their birthdays this year A letter to the Eldest and A letter to the Youngest.

And lastly, a letter from us to them, parents to children, across half a century. What do you say to your children, 50 years down the track?

In the end, after starting the letter off with personal, pertinent, what their personalities and lives are like right now, I finished off with the following:


"We want you to know that we love you both more than words could possibly say. You have made our lives rich beyond words. Everyday is brighter because you are both in it. You both amaze us with your intelligence, your kindness, your generosity, your laughter, your observations of the world. There are never enough hours in the day for the time we want to spend with you watching you both grow. Time is flying by all to quickly and we wish we could freeze time, and keep you as you are now, gorgeous, cute, delightful, a wonder to behold. But if we did that, we would miss all the wonder that is to come. Watching you grow into beautiful young women with the world at your feet.

If you are reading this, 50 years will have passed. Fifty years of joy, sadness, happiness, pain, adventure, excitement. There will have been good times and hard times. We hope that regardless of what has happened, you will have been there for each other. Our greatest wishes for you are that you are happy, that you are close to each other and can rely on each other. We hope that you are surrounded by loving family, working in a job you love and finding time to enjoy life. We hope we developed in you a love of travel, of adventure. That you walk through this life with dignity, respect and honour. That you find time to laugh – a lot!

We may or may not still be with you physically, but we will always be with you in spirit. We are in the whisper of leaves as you walk down the street. We are in the gentle caress of wind on your cheek. We are in the smell of foods you remember, flowers you pick, the outdoors after it has rained. We are in the sound of rain as it gently falls and the colours of the rainbow. We were your first loves, your first friends and not time nor space can separate us.

We love you to the moon and back, our baby girls.
Always,
Mum and Dad xxx"

I hope with all my heart, that in fifty years time, life has been good to my girls. That they are happy. That they love, and are loved in return. 

(I hope the paper wasn't too tear stained). 

Will they ever actually get the time capsule? I hope so. And if they do, I hope they see it as something special, and that the words within give them joy as well as comfort. I hope I am still around, and with enough mental faculty left to share it with them. And if not, I hope I am there in spirit. 

And mostly, I want my words not to be new words. I want them to be words they heard from me a hundred thousand times over the next 50 years and that when they read my letter, it will be affirmation of how much we loved them, how beautiful, special and loved they are. That if they don't get the time capsule, they know those words anyway. 

And just to be safe, I have kept a copy, to pass on to them, in 50 years time regardless.

Jen xxx

*What would you write to your children?

*some inspiration for what I wrote in the final paragraph of my letter, came from a link on Facebook, that began with "your Mother is always with you'. It was credited 'Unknown".

Thursday 7 November 2013

Halloween

It has taken me a while to write this post. Apparently I am not immune to the bugs over here and have been hit hard with a chest infection and a double bout of gastro. I am learning the the more effective treatment methods involve not only antibiotics but also lots and lots of TV. But also, it has taken me a while to think about how to write about this post.

Halloween.

As an Australian, living in North America, we have been incredibly excited about Halloween. I am aware that a lot of my readers are Australian, and I saw a lot of Australians Hate Halloween posts on FB and  I have been mulling over the term Hate, and what a horrible word that is, and the strong emotion it evokes. I understand that Halloween is not an Australian tradition, but Hate? I guess, for me, with things like that, I just ignore if I don't want to be involved. No one asks you to dress up, buy candy, carve a pumpkin. And if kids in your neighbourhood annoy you with the door knocking, go out for the night.

So, opening myself up for criticism, I am going to state it - we LOVED our Halloween experience. For the past month, as we walk to and from school, and around our neighbourhood, we have delighted in the appearance of scarecrows (to celebrate Harvest) and pumpkins, both carved and uncarved. Squeals of delight and frantically pointed fingers frequently explode from inside the chariot, as both The Eldest and The Youngest point out the pumpkins, the scarecrows and the houses decorated for Halloween.








Some houses were 'scarier' than others. Not to the point of nightmares for my kids, but enough for us to generate a conversation as we walked about what we saw, and what that made us feel and why we might have felt that way. I don't believe for one minute that seeing a witch hanging from a porch railing, or a skull decorating someone's lawn is going to turn my children into pagan devil worshippers. I do believe that it taught the youngest how to overcome a 'scary' situation and choose bravery and courage in facing her fear of touching a headless horseman. Her delighted 'I touched it! I'm not scared', warmed my soul. May she find the strength within her as she grows to continue to face her fears head on - even if it is holding someone else's hand while she does.




I didn't go mad with the 'commercialism' of the event. I bought a $2 ghost for my door, cut out some bats and printed off a sign.

Just like Christmas though, there are people who go all out to make the event special for the spectators.





And we are incredibly proud of our new found pumpkin carving skills and created what we consider the traditional Jack-O-lantern complete with electric candles.





See, in case you didn't know, there is Halloween etiquette. If you welcome trick or treaters to your house, you put a lit up pumpkin out, turn on your porch light and wait for the eager, dressed up youth of the neighbourhood to knock of your door and gleefully accept handfuls of treats.

No light, no pumpkin, no knock.

The Eldest and The Youngest, unfazed by the rainy weather, dressed in their princess dress (The Eldest) and Minnie Mouse dress (the Youngest) and their raincoats, danced along the sidewalk in the dark, excitedly looking out for the houses with the pumpkins and porch lights. Together, they knocked on doors or rang door bells, and with all the bravery their 2 and 4 year old selves could muster, sang out 'trick or treat' clearly to the host of the house, holding out their baskets, scoring a bundle of candy and confidence at each house we visited. It was magical.




So, we may be Australian, but we LOVE Halloween. And if you had seen the sparkle in my girls eyes this month, and the sound of my 2 year old saying trick or treat, you would fall in love with Halloween too.

Jen x

Thursday 17 October 2013

Thanksgivings


This past weekend in Canada was Thanksgiving. Being Australian, we haven't sat down with a turkey in October specifically cooked to enable us to give thanks. But, given that Hubby is the paid worker of the household, we were thankful enough for the long weekend and so I found myself cooking a turkey. 

Last year, when I cooked the turkey for Christmas I was super organised. As per Jamie Oliver's instructions I had made my gravy the week before. I had every possible ingredients. I even found somewhere that sold clementines in Summer. It was a success. 

This turkey cooking event was somewhat more relaxed. Thankfully my oven has a cooking timer on it, so although I did still get up at 5am to put the turkey in the oven, I was up for all of 2 mins.
I was missing a few ingredients and I didn't make the gravy a week before. Thankfully, Jamie Oliver is wrong, and I was not stressed out by making my (packet) gravy 5 mins before serving. It was a success.
Well, the food was. Not so much the company of our littlest child. 

The Youngest had a major 2 year old meltdown just before lunch was served. One of those horrible two year old tantrums they usually reserve for packed public places (maybe the glamour of my meal tricked her into thinking we were in a fancy restaurant??) and it was with a great deal of thanks that we were not out in public, and therefore able to put her to bed and have lunch without her. 

Proud of my (fancy restaurant) table decorations bought for 80% off, a turkey well cooked, crispy baked potatoes, the opportunity to drink red wine at lunchtime, and apple crumble in the oven, we sat down to eat. 

The Eldest, calmly pushing food around her plate, enquires "is this Thanksgiving?"
Us: Yes.  
The Eldest: Ok, well let's do our thanks. Daddy what are your thanks?
Hubby: That your sister is asleep and not screaming anymore. Oh, and that the Eagles got up yesterday. 
The Eldest: Oh. (with a shake of her head - obviously the football comment was being brushed aside). Mummy, what are your thanks?

What are my thanks? I have so many it would be impossible to write them all down. There are the obvious ones: family, friends, health. Right now, I feel pretty darn thankful for everything. But here are a few at the top of my list at this moment...

I am thankful for my Phil and Ted's Double Explorer Stroller and for all of its hard work over the past ten weeks. I appreciated you back in Australia, but my love and appreciation for you has quadrupled over the past few months. You gave me the freedom to leave a 2 bedroom apartment, in a foreign city, catch the bus and get around all while carrying my 2 children, their assorted out and about paraphanalia and my handbag. I could not have gotten The Eldest to school without you, as the service you provide in enabling me to harness the wanderings of The Youngest is invaluable. Do not worry about the new chariot in the garage. When it snows, you will understand why it is taking the children out and about. 

I am thankful for the inventor of penicillin Alexander Fleming, and it's wonderful antibiotic ability to take away horrible horrible tonsillitis and bring me back to functional living. 

I am thankful for my nespresso machine. Before we received a shipment of pods, I was thankful for Starbucks. Really, I am just thankful for coffee in general. I just wish coffee over here was as good as it is at home.

I am thankful for the amazingly generous parents that I have back in Oz and the home they have suddenly had to give to my puppy. I have been so worried about him over the past few weeks, and miss him so much. I am thankful he is in a place with two people who love him and will care for him for the next 22 months. 

I am thankful for the Indian Summer that we are having, and that it is not cold cold cold yet!

I am thankful for my wonderful new friends here in Ottawa, who have made me feel at home here, and who without them, I would feel homesick and lonely. For their wonderful friendship, children and laughs, I am truly truly thankful.

And I am truly thankful for that gorgeous hubby of mine and my two nutbag children. For every and all reasons. 

So many many many other things I could say thankyou for.

My answer to The Eldest? That I am sitting here in Ottawa, eating Thanksgiving dinner with you.

And so the conversation went on. The Eldest dragged a great deal of thanks out of us, as we sat there, wondering where this grown up four old came from, and whatever happened to that little child we birthed 4 years ago.  It was one of those lovely meals, where without the up and down from the table antics of The Youngest, we were able to sit still and talk, thankful indeed that our tantrum throwing 2 year old was blissfully asleep. 

I do have lots of thanks to give, but just now I am going to go and eat apple crumble and say thanks for butter, brown sugar and cinnamon. 

Happy Thanksgiving

Jen xx




Sunday 13 October 2013

The Wonder of Pumpkins

You have to hand it to the Canadians. They know how to celebrate each season as it arrives. The shops here are decked out in fall colours and decorations and everyone is celebrating the pumpkin.
Pumpkins everywhere - pumpkin pie, pumpkin spice, pumpkin spice latte, pumpkin chai. We have bought our lovely big pumpkin and are going to start researching how exactly to carve it for Halloween.

Yep. The mighty pumpkin is well loved over here.

We discovered an event, in its 2nd year, called Pumpkinferno held at historic Upper Canada Village, an hour south of Ottawa.

Upper Canada Village: Pumpkinferno

Now to set the scene - these are not real pumpkins. Real pumpkins would have decayed way before the display was set up. So it was 6,000 realistic, artificial pumpkins that were hand carved by a group of young artists here in Ontario, over the past 15 months.

We arrived at 5pm, thinking we could have a look through the village before Pumpkinferno began at 7pm. We were wrong. However, we were not wrong to arrive that early. We lined up at 6pm, with roughly 30 people in front of us. We entered at 6:45, and by the time we left at 7:45, there would have been a few hundred people lined up to enter, plus another few hundred cars lined up along the highway to enter.

It was pretty wow. I am just glad that we got there early!!
Here are some photos of some of what we saw, plus a video at the end.

Enjoy the wonder of the pumpkin!
Jen x