Stormy seas

It's been a difficult week. I made a decision to take a stand. A stand to protect our two little boys and hopefully in the process, we get to stand up for childhood.

It isn't easy swimming against the tide. It would be easier not to fight it. Swim with it and it's plain sailing, avoiding all conflict and unpleasantness.

But it wouldn't be worth it. And it isn't living our best life or giving them their best childhood.

The storm is slowly passing, and Graeme and I are better sailors for it.

And strangely I'm grateful. At the very least because these two have the two of us.

Joining other gratefuls over here.




My mum used to...

Isn't it funny the things we remember from our childhoods? I remember mum making bread, pizza dough and pastry without any scales. I remember her hands smelling of wet rubber from her washing-up gloves.

She'd be in the kitchen at 6am making our egg and basturma (air-dried cured beef) sandwiches before she waved us off at 6.30am onto the hour-long school bus ride across Cairo. I remember rich spinach flans, crisp potatoes in the pan and waffles filled with icing sugar.

I remember her knee getting infected from washing the parquet floors on all fours. I loved how she let us watch Knots Landing late in the evening with her, looking out all the time for Dad to come home so we'd have enough time to run back to our bedrooms and feign sleep. Mum was always on our side.

This afternoon as Kian helped me shred newspaper in the garden, I wondered what things the boys will say about me. Will they remember that I called them little pickles and little saucepots... When they're older and talking to friends, will they say Mum was always buying bags of crap from the side of the road and you should have seen how ridiculous she was whenever she saw a cockroach... and the way she chased flies around the house with that green swat (didn't we call it a splat?). 

Or will they look back fondly and say Mum let us stir and chop in the kitchen, and she always gave us the cake spoon to lick. She said 'goodness gracious me' an awful lot and sometimes she'd yell 'ssshhhhhhh' and say 'sugar'. 

There are images I hope will always stay with them. Images of stories read over and over and songs sung over and over at bedtime. Our sushi and a show ritual and squares of dark chocolate in the top cupboard.

Except maybe what will stick is this one thought: Mummy always had better things to do than clean.

What will yours say about you? What are your lovely childhood snippets? 





Why isn't parenting more obvious?

There's plenty about being a parent that comes naturally to me.

I instinctively know what to feed them. I know that good food has a big part to play in their childhood, just as it did mine.

I know to love them, to give them plenty of cuddles and to listen.

I know to read to them every day and nurture their love of books.

I know that less will always reward them with more.

As they've grown, I instinctively know that a slower, longer childhood is right for them. And that they should spend time in the garden watching food grow.

I'm very grateful to have instincts like these. No matter what anyone says or what I see, I am never swayed. It's so comforting to have that instinctive backing. To know what is right.

What doesn't come naturally to me, though, is huge and fills me with guilt. Every. Single. Day.

I don't know how to deal with the fighting, the mood swings, the episodes of rage. Instead of waiting for calm to creep back in, for them to find their centre, then talking about it sensibly, I get sucked in and swept along.

I've been reading how sibling conflict is an opportunity for communication. But I'm failing miserably. (Unless raising my voice counts as communication?)

If it was a four-year-old Kian clashing with Kian as he is now, I imagine I wouldn't get so caught up. Kian is more resilient and he moves on quite quickly. I imagine I might even let them sort it out for themselves. But it always feels so much deeper with Luca. Uncontrollable. Intense. The distress lingers and it affects everything. It's the highly sensitive thing that I still know very little about.

This morning, as I baked cheese and chive muffins to fill their lunch boxes, I realised that instead of feeling proud and grateful that it's easy for me to wake up and rustle up something delicious for their lunch, I felt niggled that I'm only really doing part of my job.

Filling their tummies and reading to them and loving them is only really part of the job. It's the easy part. It's easy to bake and cook from scratch (for me, anyway). It's easy to read. It's easy to cuddle and be close. Because it's calm and enjoyable. It's easy to parent when you've got calm and enjoyable.

It's hard when everyone is overwhelmed and angry, in a struggle. I wish I could better tune in and know exactly what their needs are and how to talk and nurture them back. That's the hard part and I wish it were more obvious.

 

I wish it were more obvious: tuning into my child and being able to connect and work out what they really need on an emotional level and being able to think 'you're acting this way because..., so all I need to do is this', and know in my heart of hearts that I'm doing a great job.

I know, as parents, we're human too, carrying all sorts of issues that still need resolving. I accept that, and I know nothing is ever perfect, but I'd like to feel – just once – like I can pat myself on the back.

I find myself wondering if it'll all turn out OK. In spite of all this stuff that isn't obvious to me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What was obvious to me today, though, was I needed music and I needed to make banoffee pie. So I danced in the kitchen to Michael Bublé, and when the boys came home, we danced some more.... (before several moments like the kind I describe above).

And now, I have a bowl of buttery, biscuity, sticky and creamy. Where it's going to end up is very very obvious.*

Do you struggle with the emotional stuff too as a parent? Do you have one child you always worry about? Do you wish more of parenting was instinctive so that we didn't have to spend our spare time reading advice?**





* I'll post the banoffee recipe tomorrow.

** Speaking of which, I have a copy of Simplicity Parenting here from the library thanks to a mention from Greer. But it's been sitting on the coffee table for a week. Next to Tessa Kiros' Apples for Jam. Guess which one seems to fall into my lap first. 

To school or not to school

Proud as punch of his colourful crab – a WilderQuest Discovery activity in
Wyrrabalong National Park

We made the decision a while back that Luca wouldn't be going to school next year. It didn't take us long to decide. In fact, my heart knew in an instant.

I'm really grateful that it was an easy decision.

We want him to have a long childhood. We want him to have more time to play and have fun. There's a lifetime ahead of systems and institutions and rules. I'd rather all that wait for a little while longer. Truth is, I'd rather put it off for as long as possible.

It really was very easy to decide. Especially when I started reading about the Finns and how they've reformed education in their country. Hearing that children don't go to school until they are 7 was music to my ears. Particularly when theirs is such a success story – the country has one of the highest performing school systems in the world.

The Finns are, apparently, fans of the 'less is more' approach. They do extended childhoods. They like simple and they like common sense.

I'm quite a fan of the Finns. Heck, I'd even move to Finland if I didn't think another move round the world would kill me.

Seriously, though, I think it's all very good. Luca turns five next year and he'll be doing pretty much what he's doing now. Two or three days at a preschool that genuinely embraces unstructured, play-based learning and the rest at home.

Trouble is, we're looking ahead to 2014 when he turns 6. We don't know where he'll be going to school. Have I looked into schools properly? Not really.

You see, one of the main reasons for keeping him back is because Luca is a highly sensitive child. (I might do another post on this trait, because I think it could help a lot of parents who might not know they're raising a highly sensitive child.) He wouldn't cope. The world can be a bit too much for Luca most days – and too much for us, as a result! There's the fact he needs a lot of downtime (he still naps). I just know, as his mother, he'd go to pieces in a school playground.

Maybe the reason I haven't started looking at schools is because I don't think the school system, as it stands, is where Luca will thrive. Not in his early years, anyway.

We've been talking about homeschooling. A bit strange, given that I've always ruled us out as a homeschooling family.

Keeping him back was the easy decision. It's knowing what to do after that.

Do I want to homeschool? I don't think I do. But then I'm speaking as someone whose days are filled with endless bickering. Toddlerhood will be past us by then. But I still need quiet on my own every week.

How will I homeschool and work at the same time? I've heard that you only have to do three hours a day when you're teaching children at home. But does that work in practice?

There is a huge homeschooling community here on the Central Coast, which is comforting to know. I know the resources are there, and I know it can be a much richer way of learning.

In fact, from the little information and insights we've gleaned so far, we both agree it would be perfect for Luca.

This is how he'd thrive. This is how he thrives now. He's infinitely curious, questions everything. I fantasise about all the different projects we could do, walks we could take, trips we could go on.

I think about all the gardening he wants to do, and how he could carry on really indulging his creativity and his love of drawing.

But I don't know if I could do it. We know what's best for him, but are we committed enough?

Maybe we'll homeschool till he's seven, and make a decision then.

Or maybe I'll find this elusive small school that I've set up in my head – the one that couldn't care less about results or about homework. The one that doesn't tell parents what they want to hear. The one with a proper fruit and vegetable garden that isn't just there to give parents a warm, fuzzy feeling about where they're sending their kids every day. The one that lets children learn at their own pace. The one that does school three days a week, so I can homeschool and watch him learn the other two.

Have you seen it?

I have no idea what to do. But we have time still.

If you're a parent facing a similar predicament, what are you doing? Have you found a school that fits the one in your head? Or do you homeschool? How do you homeschool and keep sane keep everyone happy? I would love to hear from you.




P.S. Drum roll please... Giveaway winners about to be announced. Congratulations Carly and Joanna!

A secret muddy puddle

The lull is passing.

I packed two changes of clothes. Flannels. Bottles filled with warm water. Two sets of bowls, muffin tins and wooden spoons.

We were off for a walk and heading for the mud.

There are lots of puddles near us. But only one passes the squelch test.

It's become our secret muddy puddle.

Luca was, well, like a pig in mud. Pigs would love this, was the first thing he said. His friend, little piglet, was joining in all the fun. Apparently.

I watched as he made me chocolate cake, chocolate muffins and a chocolate roll.

I expected – and wanted – Kian to do the same. I was prepared, for heaven's sake. I was hoping to watch Kian, especially, wallow about, throw clumps of it at his brother. Have a mud fight. Even play in the watery puddles. Anything.

He took a few steps towards the action. Very steadily. Then turned right around.

There was a moment of stirring, but it was just a moment. And I had to bring the mud over to him.

Yoghurt gets smeared and rubbed in at the table. Dog bowls get played in and poured all over each other. Food under the table gets squished and fondled.

Mud in a field?

Not when Mummy wants me to. And not when she's all prepared like that.

They KNOW. That's what it is.

Sydney got muddier than anyone. She doesn't play the same toddler games.

Have you entered my giveaway?

Want to grow your own organic vegetables? You can! Registration closes midnight tonight for Nicola Chatham's Abundant Veggie Patch System. No matter where you are - Europe, USA or Oz - you can join in on Nicola's 6-week practical and fun organic gardening e-course.

The good stuff

I'm still in survival mode.

And after reading what sounds like very good advice on parenting toddlers (actually, parenting full stop), I'm thinking I should try harder. Ditch the lazy 'battle-it-through' and adopt a more understanding approach. Except that I'm very tired.

So I'm not very patient at the moment. Which isn't so great for understanding a child's perspective. It looks like I'm back where I started.

Working out what is going on, deciding on different strategies and putting them into practice... well, it's draining just thinking about it.

But it's what I will do. Eventually. I'm not one for leaving things to sort themselves out (although I should sometimes). I over-think and I analyse to death. So I'll work it out. Even if by that stage he's a teenager.

In the meantime, we're just pottering.

Quietly, I always hope. But very noisily, in reality.

While I pottered the other day layering vegetable scraps and newspaper shreds in the compost, Luca asked to pick some kale.

Truth is my heart sank. Not because he wanted to pick kale, but because Kian was hovering. Kian copies, like any sibling does. But he does everything more wildly.

I had visions of Luca picking a few leaves, then Kian pulling out all the kale from their roots. Thinking that was tremendous fun, he'd move onto the spinach and lettuce and within a minute, it would look like a whipper-snippered mess.

It was nothing like that, of course.

Luca snipped. Kian watched.

A bit of kale. A bit of spinach.

This is the best bit: I suggested making a juice out of it. And we did.

A juice of kale, spinach, banana, frozen berries, lemon, bee pollen and maca powder.

I have absolutely no idea what the bee pollen and maca powder do. I just know it's good stuff.

Thanks to Nicola Chatham, I'm not only growing all of these glorious leaves on a patch of concrete by my washing line, but because she introduced me to Jessica Ainscough, aka the Wellness Warrior, I'm making juices I probably never would have made.

They drank the lot.

Kian, my fussy little eater, who throws food across the table, who kicks his plate in disgust...

Consumed. And. Enjoyed. Raw. Greenery.

It was a lovely moment.





Celebrating 100

I've reached 100 posts.

Can't believe it's been a year since I began my little blog!

I started Finding that place called Home as a way of recording family life. I'm only one year in, but I'm already thinking about where I want to take it.

I've written about family, our home and early childhood. I've also shared my gardening journey and what it will mean to me to have an abundant kitchen garden. I still want to write about all these things, because they are my life. Every day.

But I want to set the tone as it becomes clearer in my mind. The same purpose I had when I landed that job at the BBC feels like it should be the same purpose here.

To share my joy of food. To uncover great food.

Food and people.

So really it's still the same. Family. Like-minded souls. Kindred spirits. Around a table.

In case you've just joined me (welcome, by the way!), here are 100 moments from the past year.

I hope you'll join me for the next 100.


My technical advisor (aka my handsome spearfisherman) has just informed me that my rss button has been going to the wrong link. So that might be why some of you have missed a few posts. If that's you, easiest thing might be to click on whichever leaf button takes your fancy. Up in the top right-hand corner. See? Or if you like, you can join me on Facebook (which I'm still getting used to!).

Cuddles * Our own sashimi * Kian on his bike * Beach walk after Avoca Markets * Firescreek Winery *
Luca at the beach

Winter sun * Choc cupcakes * Playing with cans and string * Swimming with Kian * Lilies in our deep dark wood * Kian posing * Brothers on the seesaw * Fun in the deep dark wood * Best vegetable lasagne 

Trotting fun * Homegrown basil * Noise with saucepans * Watering the worms * Digger watching * A stroll with Sydney * Brotherly love * My first hydrangea

Green and red tomato chutney * Luca harvesting * Perfect passionfruit * No-churn strawberry ice cream *
Kian up to no good * My favourite way to see presents * Graeme's latte art * A pensive moment *
Summer fruit salad

A special trip on a trike * Homemade sign * Luca and an eastern rock lobster * Dinner * Kian chasing geese

Organic sourdough * Spinach at home * Kian climbing * Mucking about on the decking * Watering the brassicas * Mr and Mrs Shadow * Trying to grow basil from a cutting * Helping in the garden * Climbing high * Pant pant * Holding on tight to my cuddlebug

Autumn colour * Morning catch * Two brothers * Sydney Botanical Gardens * Amazing light at Terrigal *
Summer sun * Sydney's birthday

Family outing * Slow food * Luca catches a fish * Turning four * Rough and tumble with friends

Enjoying a party * Picking flowers * Sticking leaves * Sharing a muslin * Heavenly jonquils * Winter day out *
Kian's 1st * Snorkel and fins * At the pool * Cheeky grins * Crabbing at our favourite spot * Helping Daddy clean and fillet the fish * My beautiful mum and I

'Luca', made out of things from the garden * Pinning it on the door with Auntie Jennifer * Frangipani in our garden *
I love the Avoca markets * Oh so cheeky

Lazing about * Crabbing in winter * Putting together Kian's toddle truck *
My first mud crab with Opa * Straight into the water fully clothed

A week's worth of dinners * Watching Daddy fillet * Posing with Opa and the mud crab we just caught *
Christmas morning rainbow

My three boys * Playground fun * Our tomato glut * A much-loved umbrella *
A different way with paint * Crawling outside

Squelch squerch * Kian playing fetch * Smiles * Warm crumble * Pink rhubarb * Blocks at home




Leave them alone

Why can't we leave our kids alone? To be kids. To play and enjoy their early years.

I admit I used to be one of those parents who got sucked into all the 'we'll have your child reading and writing long before they go to school'.

Reading programs, different phonics approaches, Japanese or some other, structured language and literacy time all sounded like the right thing to do. Don't we all want our children to be prepared, to be reading and writing before anyone else, to be ahead? To be CLEVER?????

Should our eyes light up (like mine did) when we discover how much they could cram in just a few hours? Because doing a zillion things somehow justifies the fees, doesn't it?... Heaven forbid they should just play.

Except something hasn't been sitting well with me. On the one hand, how can I argue with education systems that are adopted everywhere? I don't really know about the research behind literacy and numeracy programs, or how children learn better through phonics-based reading programs. I'm not an early childhood teacher. I wish I was one sometimes, but I'm not.

On the other hand, what I am is a parent. A parent of a four-year-old who is teaching me what is best for him.

It occurred to me very recently that a lot of these programs that centres and preschools shout about are feeding a fear in us. The fear that our child won't be prepared for school. The fear that they might not do very well.

If, for one second, we stop comparing... If we imagine it's just our own children. It's just them running through the park, along the beach, playing. Just them. No one else. Doesn't it just come down to one thing  then? For them to be happy?

Ignore the cliché but it was a like breath of fresh air for me. Discovering that if we let them play, they'll learn all this stuff anyway, in their own time, when they're ready, not because someone said it's Letterland hour.

The time will come for structured learning. Oh yes, it will come, and this, their beautiful childhood, will be gone.

I grew up in a culture that looks at childhood as something you have to try and get through before the meaty part really begins. That it's all preparation for the years to follow.

Children aren't trainees. We shouldn't be preparing them. It's a glorious stage in its own right.

Everyone talks about wanting their children to have the best education, but education is more than academics.

Of course, literacy and numeracy are crucial, but I believe in a more natural rounded approach. Reading books from an early age and having an enjoyable story time every day where you talk about the author and illustrator and discuss the story will bring about literacy, for example.

In any case, education is so much more than subjects taught at school.

Mine was an extreme education. It was good in so many ways, but damaging in lots of others. What I remember from school was that there wasn't any opportunity to play and explore.

Whilst I'm not talking about proper school just yet, I feel it's important to set the tone now. Play, music, teaching them about food, where it comes from in the garden teaches them more than we think, it's fun and what's more it's relevant. Japanese isn't.

Nor is French, even though I speak it  and would love for my children to speak more than one language. There's only so much time in the day, and I do enough beating myself up on what I don't do. It's just not that meaningful right now.

I'm not trying to shape someone who's going to be successful in their career; I'm trying to shape a human being who will be happy.

I'm already very nervy about school, and what they expect of little ones... Homeschooling would be fantastic in lots of ways, except it's not going to happen chez nous – I haven't been blessed with endless patience and boundless energy. Sadly.

Luckily, we found an early learning centre after I'd given up all hope. Now, I just hope we find the right school.

Phew.**

I'll sign off with a picture I took last week at a farm nearby. Just because.

* I know lots of people won't agree with the above. But I'm speaking from the heart as a parent of a sensitive soul. There's every chance I haven't got my point across well (I always take far too long to get to the point!), so I can already hear arguments for stretching a child at an early age and exposing them to everything under the sun. I'm not against stretching or stimulating a child - of course I'm not - so long as they're free to play, learn and explore exactly what interests them. It's wonderful we live in an age now that recognises the importance of open-ended, play-based learning. We like the sound of it, and it sounds so idyllic, but in practice many of us are still worry about them just playing. 

** God, I'm so glad to get this finally out of my head. I've been thinking about this for months. 

Woweee... Luca's 4th birthday

I hadn't gone away. Just that I'm still recovering. No, not booze recovering - I only had a couple of glasses of bubbly. Recovering from organising a birthday party.

Who knew they could be so exhausting? The planning, the making, the cooking, the hosting, the clearing up.

Would I do it all over again? 

Let's see....

Once the pompoms and number wreath were made, it was time to stitch together those strips to make hanging garlands.  

I did watch the DVD that came with the sewing machine, but we were pushed for time, so Graeme put his old sewing lessons into practice. 

They were so easy to do! Amazing results. They're going to be the decoration I always make from now on for any party. Can you imagine the possibilities for Christmas? A New Year's Eve party? 

Here's the tutorial. 

  

Next, the party bags. I desperately wanted to make bags out of Luca's paintings we've been collecting since his last birthday. I was thrilled to find this: a recipe for DIY gift bags!

Punched holes using a shell hole puncher and used orange yarn for handles. (Well, there was so much leftover since the blessed lanterns were a failure!)

Then we got to work on filling them. Cut milk cartons in half, painted them orange, poked holes in the bottom for drainage, and filled them with soil once they were dry.

Cut up orange crepe and tissue paper and wrapped sunflower seeds, and gingerbread biscuits. And for a bit of craft for the kids, we punched out butterflies in orange paper to make a pretty border. Then tied everything up in string and yarn.

They looked adorable - although next time if I'm filling a paper bag with a pound of soil, I might use more than yarn for handles!

We hung pompoms along paths into 'the deep dark wood', which was a great hit with all the kids who ran along looking for the next one to guide them. Hung garlands from trees. Oh, did I mention we also managed to make some bunting with some of the card? Why haven't I owned a sewing machine sooner????

And used this idea to create our very own obstacle course. Strangely enough, Graeme had lots of orange rope that he used to use for scuba diving, so this came in very handy. 

Luca called it a spider's web.

And yes, I even hung those pathetic lanterns, which had completely unravelled that morning, so we managed to make more of the 'web'.

Something to keep the toddlers amused next. A cardboard box wrapped in sticky tape, and a basket full of leaves, flowers, twigs, seed pods and bark. Didn't last as long as I'd hoped as Luca wanted to play with the box!

Pass the parcel. Very interesting trying to explain to a bunch of 2, 3 and 4 yr olds that you only unwrap a layer when the music stops. Why did it seem so much simpler when we were kids?

 

The food. 

A crab cake. A fudgey dark chocolate cake with dark chocolate ganache. Made by me. Decorated by Luca and Graeme. Luca was thrilled with it.

Cheese and fruit sticks. Very popular with Luca and his friends.

Sausage rolls. Very popular with the parents.

Sesame squash on sticks (not as popular as I'd hoped) and pizza snails (almost all gone). I decided to adopt the less theme with everything, including the food. I had planned on zucchini and corn fritters, and some mini sandwiches, but I kept getting told to keep it simple. My own voice told me that a children's party was not the same as entertaining adults; while food is central to the latter, it most certainly isn't for the former.

So would I do it again?

Yes. Definitely. I had a ball. I really did.

I didn't care that my sticking corner wasn't as successful as I'd planned. I didn't care that no one really liked my sticky sesame squash bites, and I didn't care that the rowdy boys all took turns to beat the pompoms down one by one.

It was so much fun. 

And after everyone had left, we cranked up Justine Clark's The Witches' Ball and danced barefoot in the grass.

Sssshh, don't tell the ranger we had bubbly in the wetlands

Happy birthday my gorgeous little boy. 

P.S. If you enjoyed this post, I would love it if you could vote for me in the Top 25 Creative Mom Blogs.