Page turners, bodice rippers and brown paper bags.

 

In recent weeks, I have relinquished my obsession with knitting just a smidge

and have been reading a bit more.

My bedside table pile of books to read

has grown into three in the past year

and I am keen to work through some of them.

I read Enduring Love (Ian McEwan),

because it was highly recommended by a telly book reviewer

and the accompanying oohing, aah-ing telly host.

I felt like I was wading through mud to get through it

and am now reluctant to pick up Atonement from the pile.

I do enjoy a lighter read these days.

Mind you, I then watched the movie

which was so, so ordinary

I can say that I actually preferred wading through the book.

I read My Sister's Keeper (Jodi Picoult),

because I have never read one of her books

and I am scared but fascinated by her storylines.

But was it just me or was it a cop-out at the end?

(And I have the movie recorded.

Should I bother?)

Now I am reading The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas (John Boyne),

because it is one of those books that it seems everyone has been reading.

I am nearly halfway through and want to sit up tonight till I finish it.

It is short and in larger print

and I am already moved by the story

and scared of what this little story holds in its pages.

I am also halfway through The Fifty Shades trilogy (E. L. James).

Oh, come on. 

Of course, I am.

Just like the majority of heterosexual women in the world.

I heard a little about it a few weeks back,

included "New York Times best seller"

(and I am a sucker for best sellers)

but, as I took the first book for reading on the plane last weekend,

I didn't realise that I'd find myself making sure that no-one could read over my shoulder.

Oh. My.

For those of you not familiar with it,

think of a 1980's "Mills and Boon" written for the new millenium.

Think "Mills and Boon" on steroids.

Heck, think "Mills and Boon", knickerless, lying on its back with its legs wantonly splayed, panting ...


Get the idea?

The first book is the fastest selling adult novel to ever sell one million copies in print

and has sold faster than the Harry Potter series in the UK.

I don't actually think that the books are very well written

but they are very, well, explicit

and very, well, titillating.

Never under estimate the purchasing power of women who like a bit of erotica

(or the number of partners encouraging it. Just ask Mr Boozle)

I am no prude

but if you come and look at the books on the top shelf of my bookshelf,

well away from the reach of anyone who can't reach to 3 metres 

or has a ladder handy,

you will find Lace by Shirley Conran

and  Hollywood Wives by Jackie Collins.

Guilty pleasures from 20 years ago

but after reading Shades, the characters from those are almost chaste

and could earn a place running through that field with Laura Ingalls
in the opening credits of "Little House on the Prairie".

The Shades set may need to be buried under the house

because when my kids are actually legally old enough to read them 

and emotionally old enough to understand them,

hands over ears,

 la-la-la-la-la-la, not listening.

I don't want to know about it.

Of course, the movie rights have been snapped up already

which has me thinking.

Firstly, if the films are made true to the books,

the rating is going to mean that you are purchasing them

from your local adult book shop in a brown paper bag.

Forget the choc-top and the popcorn.

Will the movie version make Sharon Stone, 

still idolised by some for that undie-free scene in Basic Instinct,

 a has-been?

(cdn.cnet.com.au)

A fair whack of the books are basically having sex, talking about sex,

having sex, thinking about sex, dreaming about sex, having more sex,

fighting about sex, fighting about not having sex,
crying about having sex, crying about not having sex,

and then having even more sex.

If it is reigned in for anything less than an "R" rating,

the earth wont be moving for some people.

Things may well become a little...bland.

(Shall I say vanilla?

That's an in-joke for those who have read the books)

Secondly, the rumour mill is working overtime as to who should play

the unbelievably rich, unbelievably hot, unbelievably physically perfect Christian Grey.

As soon as the film is released,  many women's fantasy bubbles will burst- into the thin air of reality.

No-one who actually walks on this earth could live up to the character James has created.

(No, not even Johnny Depp)

This is the point of the fantasy, people.

When I put my hand up for Team Edward after reading the Twilight books,

I was not fantasizing about Robert Pattinson.

I certainly wasn't impressed when he got the role.

 OK, so a trillion squillion adolescent girls  (the target demographic)

were impressed and really, that is what counts in the movie industry.

But as soon as they put a real face to the ideal fantasy figure,

they ruin the fantasy.

This isn't about making a movie version of the Harry Potter books

where the computer generated special effects are so amazing

that you sit there with your mouth open.

There may be other reasons that a movie version of the Fifty Shades trilogy

might have you sitting there with your mouth open

but it will be interesting to see if that is because of casting choices,

the script writing, the classification
or because of what the lead characters just did in an elevator full of people.

This Week...28th June, 2012

...It has been about fingerless mitts...





(Camp Out Fingerless Mitts)

...my coffee machine demanded to be descaled again
after only 2 weeks.
Methinks I have a coffee addiction problem.

...Mr Boozle and I had 4 child-free days in Melbourne for my 20 year
Uni reunion.



...We wandered...



...We shopped...



(OK I mostly shopped
while the Mr played Angry Birds
or stood outside shops with other husbands)





...I had forgotten how much I missed those trams...



...We caught up with old friends from Uni,
very old friends from high school
and friends who moved away last year...



...We had (very, very) late nights,
quiet mornings dozing,
too much wine
and probably didn't miss the kids
half as much as we should have...



...Our son lost his third fish to DBUC
("death by unknown causes")
in as many weeks
and is totally disheartened...



...Our youngest finished kindy
and is ready for school.

I am a little teary and she is not.

I am not sure why I am being emotional
as I more than ready for her to go to school
and so is she.

These bloody irrational maternal emotions.

The other milestones.

I still remember,

especially as a first time mum,

carefully ticking off those milestones

as bub grew up.

...the age when that first tooth;

when was the first smile?

...those first steps,

that first word...

You couldn't get away from those checklists

proclaiming what age range your (average) child would be in

when he or she first looked at you and gave your one of those gorgeous baby dimpled smiles.

After the past couple of weeks of dealing with more-difficult-than-usual-and-that-is-saying-something kids,

those bubs all growing up so quickly,

all those lists seem to have disappeared.

You couldn't escape them when you were insecure and vulnerable

and wondering why your child wasn't walking yet
when all those glossy flyers said that he should be.

But now I want to know

when my child will stop lying.

When he will realise that stealing is not on.

When he or she works out that the reason that we say "no biting/punching/pinching/pushing"

is because there will be consequences.

When he will share.
When she will do the right thing because it is the right thing to do.
When he will develop empathy.

When he will be appreciative of all that he has
and not worry about all that he hasn't.
When she will realise that please, thank you and sorry
will get her further in life than any other words.

When he or she realises that screaming uncontrollably for 2 hours is not acceptable behaviour.

I am not sure about the normal ages for these milestones
but I do know when he or she will realise just how
worrisome, heart-wrenching and hurtful
these behaviours can be to a parent.

I reckon it will be the very instant that he becomes a parent himself.

An endangered species.

(Joy the Baker* cookbook)

I have a confession to make.

No, it isn't that I watch Keeping up with the Kardashians

or Toddlers and Tiaras.

 I am not here to admit to waxing my upper lip...

 Not quite yet, anyhow.

I am not even announcing to the world that I am knocked up with Michael Jackson's love child 

because he isn't really dead; he is actually living in our back shed.

(If that was true, I'd be selling my story to the world;
 not posting it here on this insignificant, little blog)

But what I am owning up to is the fact that I feed my kids dessert. Every night.

Yep. I said it. It's out there.

Dessert. Every. Night.

 I am hanging my head in shame right about now,

because from what I have seen and heard,

dessert isn't "the done thing".

Pudding seems to be a dirty word these days.

We are too busy trying to bring our children up

with balanced diets, active bodies and an oh-so-healthy attitude to their future well-being

to whip up a bread and butter pudding or make a jelly trifle.

Dessert here is mostly yoghurt and fruit.

(A home made yoghurt at that.

Does that earn me back any cred at all?)

But I will own up to a love of baking.

I do love making the kids a nice custard

and I really enjoy baking some of those old-fashioned puddings

that I grew up with.

I don't feel like I have a lot of childhood rituals from growing up

but flicking through the CWA cookbook or my nans' recipes,

making that lovely rice pudding that they made...

it gives me a sense of comfort and happiness.

(Even the word pudding is just such a yummy word)

There aren't any "starving children" chats attached to main course.

There are no "if you don't eat every last leaf of those brussel sprouts

you are trying to hide under your mashed potato,

you wont get icecream" comments attached to a frown and a waggling finger.

We know, as modern, trying-to-be-switched-on parents,

that creating an unhealthy attitude to dessert-type foods is just not on.

We will ask the children to try new foods

but we don't force them to eat things that they don't like,

just so that they can have a treat.

I remember being forced to eat foods that I detested,

just so that I could have the bowl of yummy sweet stuff at the end.

I still grew up detesting every vegetable apart from potato till I was about 24 years old

and I certainly grew up with an excessive interest in (some might say obsession with) sweet food.

We will discuss how hungry they are

with regards to finishing their main meal.

I know that one argument that is in our favour:

That if kids aren't deprived of something,

they wont grow up desperately craving it and over indulging.

We are all doing the best that we can as parents

but sometimes I wonder if we are failing our kids by giving them that second (sweet) course each evening.

I certainly don't feel comfortable volunteering this information

at any mum meet-ups now that I have worked out that I am in the minority,

likely to be socially cast-out at the first mention of "self-saucing".

*Joy the Baker is my current girl crush.
I have foregone Dita Von Teese's style and glamour
for Joy's use of butter and sugar.

This Week...21st May, 2012

...There has been knitting...


(Maxi dress- Elena Nodel)


(Paint Me a Sweater- Elena Nodel)

...There has been embroidery and there has been sewing...


(Red Riding Hood- Urban Threads)


(Imke Hoodie- Farbenmix)

...There have been (pink and sparkly) party preparations...

...There have been exciting travel preparations...

(thinkprogress.org)


...There have been discussions with Mr Boozle about the 5 food groups.

He believes that they are (in no particular order):
 beef, lamb, chicken, fish and pork

(bacon being a condiment)...

(news.blogs.cnn.com)

...There has been another fishy death in the family
and a Staffy freaking out from balloons popping at parties...

...There has been a 5th birthday for the baby of the family,
an all-little-girl affair that was a lot pinker and a lot more glittery
(and a few octaves higher) than the previous all-boy parties that we have hosted
for her brothers.





..there was the reminder that 4 year old tantrums didn't just stop at midnight when someone turned 5...

...there was the trying-on of school uniforms
and a realisation of how close it is till our last born gets to try out her wings.
We know that she will soar but it is still bittersweet...

Big, scary words.

Yesterday I learnt some medical words that I didn't know,

in spite of my veterinary background.

I sat and listened as a specialist threw words like amblyopia

and intermittent exotropia at me.

Big, scary words that parents don't want to have to think about.

We consider ourselves blessed to have 3 healthy children.

Aside from the usual upset tummies, snotty noses and sneezes,

plus a few extras...

corneal ulcers due to a toothbrush in the eye,

corneal ulcers due to falling into a wet cement puddle,

corneal ulcers due to a foreign body,

corneal ulcers due to toddler's finger nails in daddy's eye

(yeah, pick the pattern)...

we haven't had too much to stress about.

The fractured skull from our 2 year old hitting his head

and the possible metal ball intestinal obstruction

have probably been our biggest blips on the radar to date.

(But here I am going to touch wood and not say the things that we haven't had to deal with

because I know that is just tempting fate)

So yesterday was a bit of a jolt.

The gist is that our youngest has a wandering eye

and has lost some of her vision in that eye.

When eyes wander in children,

apparently their brains decide that it is all too hard

and give up a bit on that eye.

The treatment plan is to give that eye a chance to lift its game

and get back to doing what it is meant to do

by giving the good eye a handicap (drops, patches etc)

Though her loss of vision isn't severe,

she is in the unlucky 15% of children that has had some sight loss with this condition

and we are now crossing our fingers and toes

that she isn't in the 15% of children who don't respond to treatment.

She was rather excited to think that she might have gotten to wear glasses,

with that naive enthusiasm that 4 year olds

can have about many, many things in life.

(Like flying in planes because they never, ever crash.
and like thinking that the precious 50c piece in her piggy bank is actually $50.)

Luckily at this stage she doesn't have her mummy's hideous rely-on-contact-lenses-or-glasses-24/7-

or-else-run-into-that-500-ton- meteorite-sitting-2-metres-in-front-of-you vision.

I was calm and matter of fact about the whole visit and its outcome

until I was lying in bed last night and start doing the parent thing.

The What If thing.

What if?

What if she doesn't recover her vision?

What if her vision gets worse?

I know as far as childhood illness or injury goes,

this is not as devastating nor as debilitating as most

and there is a more than good chance of recovery.

But it has made me think about those parents, the many friends and associates that I have,

in the real world and on-line,

who are dealing with difficulties each and every day.

Some minor; some more major; some life changing.
Some with no end in sight and no solutions.
Some that tear at a parent's heart.

Most just get on with it without complaint.

As a parent, you just do what you have to do.

You  are prepared to do whatever it takes to keep your precious little ones safe and well and happy.

When a hug and kiss wont do it, you take a deep breath, maybe have a little cry
and then you step up.

It's just the fundamental principal of being someone's mother or father.

We hope that the next few months will bring positive results.

But in the meantime,
I have had a timely reminder to know how lucky Mr Boozle and I are as parents
and to remember what an amazing capacity these little human beings
have to help us find our strength, our ability to commit whatever it takes to help them
and, of course, our unconditional love.

Sometimes, just sometimes, everything goes perfectly

...and you can't stop smiling when you realise
that the end result is just what you had hoped for.

I have had this yarn and this pattern set aside for over 6 months.
My favourite ever colourway
and a vintage style pattern.


I absolutely love it.

Ice Skating Cape (or skirt)
Cosette Cornelius-Bates

Last month...April 2012

(Not quite keeping up with my This Week posts...)

...there have been brisk mornings, sunny days, colourful falling leaves

and rapidly cooling afternoons,

reminding me why Autumn is one of my favourite times of year.

...I was happy to see my walking man after a long absence.

(Cherry Leaf scarf - Mary Ann Stephens)

...I have knitted and sewed

and even turned on my embroidery machine after more than a year.

 I am finally making things for my long-neglected boys.

(Little Hoodlum- Julia Stanfield)

...I found out that there is more salt in most takeaway pizzas

than in sea water.

(As a 20-something year old Uni student, I wouldn't have given a pfaff

but as a 43 year old mother of three,

I am horrified)

...we went to see a very cool Lego exhibit.

Art of Brick- Nathan Sawaya

The adolescent sized T rex took a whole summer and 80 000 Lego bricks to build.

Very. Very. Cool.

...my newly sewn up take out knitting bag has been dubbed The Tardis.

I can fit anything in there.

(Sew Liberated Bohemian Carpet bag)

...I had gastro, a severe and lingering fight with an upper respiratory infection

and then was laid up with a sore back.

Here's hoping that May is a healthier month.

...I finished watching all the eps from the modern Dr Who era on ABC2,

only to find that they immediately started playing them all again.

I am a big fan but I really need that 4 hours a week back.

...I had a fringe cut in. Mr Boozle informs me that I look years younger.

It's a shame that a painless, free 1 minute snip can't make other body parts look and feel younger.

(Norie- Gudrun Johnston)

...those cats lulled me into a false sense of security.

I thought that they actually spent their nights sleeping.

Apparently not.