“Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing and learn as you go.” - E.L. Doctorow April 13, 2008
“My name is Spongebob,” said Spongebob.
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“You might be a firefighter if your kids are afraid to get into water fights with you.” April 7, 2008
I don’t know what the Firewise mascot’s name really is. I hope it is Krispy Kiwi, with a sort of singed-around-the-edges look. We went to the Rangiora Volunteer Fire Brigade’s open day yesterday at which the kids saw a car get cut open, an airport firetruck, a, well, a guy dressed up as a firefighting kiwi, and Ethan ran an obstacle course to save a giant stuffed bear from a fire. The bear survived, thanks to Ethan’s courage and dedication to the safety of bears everywhere.
A six-week catch-up. January 29, 2008
Ask me what we’ve been doing, go on ask me ask me ask me!
Actually no. Don’t, because it’s not as exciting as such an enthusiastic buildup would imply. But we did leave the house for a while there, which for us these days is as exciting as wandering around Mexico was ten years ago. Also up there for excitement is the return of House to TV tonight. I can barely focus on my typing, such is my exvcwfvvwhuhtement.
What did we actually do that filled us with joy and fulfillment? Um. We…um. I forget. Wait! We went to Blenheim! For Christmas! Before that we did some pre-Christmas stuff here, like cut down a perfectly healthy tree and prop it up in our dining room. And we had the kids’ preschool end-of-year breakup, which had a fancy-dress theme:
As you can see, Ethan was a fairy.
And Amy went as a rubber chicken.
We headed to Blenheim a couple of days before Christmas, where it turned out we were inducted into the local builders’ union and indentured to build chairs.
I still have all my digits and both eyes, although I can’t say the same for our children. At least they look happy!
Christmas was awesome. Amy and I got a doctor set:
And we got snow!
We spent an afternoon at Marfells Beach, past Lake Grasmere and the saltworks (a network of ponds where seawater is left to evaporate and expose the salt), and the kids chased seagulls and threw rocks and collected shells and ran around a lot. And I took my favourite photo of the trip:
We came home for a pretty uneventful January (I went to summer school) and then Ethan turned five on Saturday. We threw him a pirate party.
It went well.
My kids are weird, part 17 November 27, 2007
Yes, it’s true. Biking with a bucket on your head is the new black.
Amy’s toilet humour June 7, 2007
[Amy is sitting on the floor, lining up her farm animals and singing/babbling to them/about them.]
Me: Hey Amy! What are your animals doing?
Amy: Wees.
Me: Your animals are doing wees?
Amy: [huge cheeky grin] Yeah!
Me: If your animals are doing wees, what are you doing?
Amy: Poos! [falls over laughing]
A cure for what ails you. May 27, 2007
With the excitement of being capable of producing Hollywood-like movies on my lappy, I remembered this wee video we had of Ethan at the grand old age of six months, giggling his head off at some silly made-up game. It never fails to make me laugh along with him.
Ethan giggling in the dark ages from tracicle on Vimeo
Okay, this time it’s going to work. Honest. May 12, 2007
Ethan’s first time riding a bike from tracicle on Vimeo
More about DorklandAuckland April 27, 2007
Auckland doesn’t really bring out the worst in me, I swear. On the first day I was cussing like a person without small children about the traffic, the hills, and the fact that I could not, at any time, tell what part of Auckland we were in or in which direction we were heading. North was south! East was west! Up was down! In was out! By Monday I was saying to Mike, “Well, I guess it wouldn’t be too bad, you know, if you never drove anywhere ever for any reason.” And he was nodding and agreeing and then I would say, “Nah. But yeah. But nah. But maybe.”
Anyway.
Friday we arrived in a blaze of perfect-parenting glory with our children and luggage intact. (Last night I watched Supernanny’s tips about travelling with kids. We had done everything she recommended, and more. Yes.) I amused the kids in the terminal (food! video games! Korean grandparents touching their hair and giving them lollies with unrecognisable writing!) while Mike picked up the rent-a-dent. We had predicted Amy would need a nap (see? perfect parents) and decided the best plan of action was a recon drive around the city to get our bearings and let her sleep in the car. We decided we didn’t need a map.
HAHAHAHAAA!
We didn’t get very lost.
We stopped at a petrol station off a motorway somewhere in the North Island to find One Tree Hill (I had said, “Eh, it’s a big hill with a big cenotaph on it. How will we get lost?”) and realised that we somehow were actually still in Auckland and somehow not far from where we wanted to be. It turns out that the hills in Auckland are not conveniently located in one small area like Christchurch but are rather inconveniently dotted about at random, so one hill hides another. Right! Behind it! I called Rache to arrange a meeting place and she said, “Well, I’m coming up [Random Street] right now,” and I said, “We’re coming up [A Road],” and she said, “Hey, I’m just around the corner,” as we literally passed each other in the middle of a city of over one million people.
Lesson: New Zealand is a small country. And full of people from Christchurch.
Caught up, took the kids to a really awesome playground at One Tree Hill Domain (I think), with very cool and funky play equipment including a ride-on train on a circular track.
Mike collected his parents from the airport and we adjourned to the motel, where we threw the children in bed and opened the requisite bottle o’ wine and had another, proper catch-up. We felt this constant compulsion to tell people that, as parents, it is never wise to make concrete plans because something always, always goes wrong or otherwise changes. The great thing about telling people this in advance is that it means things will go right. If you prepare for the worst, you’re guaranteed to get the best. Parents and acquaintances of small children take note.
We drove all over Auckland the next morning in search of Botany Downs, because what sort of crazy person goes to the big smoke without shopping? I bought some art. The boys bought Dunkin’ Donuts. I swear Mike drooled all over the rental car when he saw the sign and we never got our deposit back. We bought Ethan a long-sleeved tee because when I packed his clothes I discovered that every sweatshirt he owns was wet on the line. We bought Amy a cute shirt because it was cute. We bought Ethan a pair of sunglasses because they were red. And had racecars. And they match his bucket hat with the flaming skulls, so, you know.
Back to the motel for naptime and lunch and to meet Rache and Dale, who brought more goodies for the kiddies. Ethan got a kurta with churida (traditional Indian shirt and trousers):
When Amy woke up we madly raced off to Auckland Zoo, where we saw more animals than you could shake a stick at, whatever that means. We certainly didn’t shake sticks at any animals since most of them would have eaten us. Amy was fascinated by the hippo and elephants, and the hippos were certainly doing interesting things; having a feed beside the water before plunging in, climbing out, wandering in again and having a swim along the jetty. The hippos in a separate enclosure were having fisticuffs over a chunk of log they had evidently been given for Christmas or something — a perfect chance to teach the kids a vital life lesson about sharing your goodies with hippos.
We finally escaped from the zoo at closing time with a stack of free ex-calendar photos of the animals to occupy the kids on the drive back and a plethora of animal noises to be made. Kids slept like logs. Logs untouched by large hippo teeth.
The grownups did stuff on Saturday night; probably it is better left unsaid. Suffice to say dinner was tasty, belly dancing was witnessed, karaoke was not, and Mike and I are old and retired before we could turn into pumpkins. Certain others of the party were still recovering 18 hours later. Suckers!
On Sunday we did some quiet things because of the aforementioned suckers. We brunched at a cafe on Onehunga Mall, which is a fantastic low-budget street packed with bazaar-style shops all called some variety of “Just a Buck” or “One-Two-Three Dollars” and filled with a mix of trash and treasure. Also the most amazing secondhand and rare book shop I have ever seen. The apparently homemade stairs were dodgy but presumably legal and you could almost guarantee that that book you remember your nana reading you that used to belong to your dad when he was four would be found somewhere in that shop.
Back for Amy’s nap (I am not complaining about this; I would love it if she naps until the day she starts school, and maybe even until she’s thirty), then we split up to see various parts of Auckland. I went to Takapuna with Rache, Mike stayed with Amy and his broken cellphone, Ethan went with Nana and Grandad — whom Amy has named something like “Brad-Brad” — and they went to the museum! which was on fire! and had, like, a zillion firetrucks! wow! Apparently the alarms went off, the trucks came screaming in, and no one could turn the alarms off so they had to close the museum just after Ethan arrived. It’s like they knew. So they played it safe and went to the Sky Tower, which Ethan ADORED AND WON’T STOP TALKING ABOUT THANKS A LOT NANA AND BRADBRAD. And, um, Dale slept a lot.
Somehow we all (minus the aforementioned poor old sucker Dale) managed to meet in the same place at Mission Bay despite Mike having no map and no cellphone, and had a peaceful afternoon on the beach building castles and canals and burying Aunty Rachel up to her neck in sand. Then we sadly said goodbye to Mike’s parents who flew back to Blenheim and packed up to go back to the motel to once again throw children in bed and open a bottle of wine. What? It’s not like we do that every night. Sometimes we drink beer, or tequila slammers, or snort lines. We did make the mistake of putting Ethan and Amy in the same room on Sunday night, which made for entertainment when they kept talking to each other. It’s not like Amy has much to say, but somehow they conversed long past bedtime.
(Please excuse the redeye; I forgot to edit before uploading.)
Monday we (perfect parents) were already packed and had clothes out for the kids, so we were breakfasted and out of the motel by about 8am. We went to One Tree Hill and let the kids enjoy the view and proved to Ethan that no, the Sky Tower did not actually go into space and that no, it wasn’t taller than a mountain and no, it wasn’t the tallest thing in the whole wide world. Dreams shattered! A boy’s fantasies crushed! You can feel the pain:
(Yes, desperate need for haircut, I know.)
Then down the hill! To Butterfly Creek! Great place! Except not. I’m sure it is a great place when the A Team are working, but we evidently got, uh, the F Team. We bought tickets for the kids to see the farmyard and ride the Red Admiral Express! a little train that chugs around the complex. There’s also a butterfly aviary-thing (what the heck do you call a butterfly enclosure?) that is supposed to have, oh I didn’t read the signs, the most butterflies in a large enclosed area in the entire galaxy or something. Anyway, the kids saw the farmyard while I waited for Rachel in the cafe (evidently Dale survived the night, well done him!) and I think the farmyard was met with apathy, because the kids just! wanted! the train!
So we waited for 11:30 which was the next departure time. And no one came to drive the train. We waited. And no one came. And we had a 12:50 flight (hrm, more on that soon), so we needed to get going. So I had a chat with the receptionist, who responded with a blank expression and a rude “Huh?” and then said she’d talk to someone. We waited. And waited. And then we had to go, so we forced the kids’ clenched fists from the train’s gates and hauled them up the ramp to the exit, when the receptionist came out and asked us to wait, someone was coming. Through gritted teeth and over screams I said no, we had a plane to catch. But wait! she said, just a couple of minutes! And I, rather more irritated than I generally get (I’m all about the internalising of rage, you know) used a rather angry voice with her and said no. we. are. leaving. and she just…vanished. And we never saw her again.
Am I to be riding the train now? Am I?
So we bid a sad farewell to Rache, who went and did, I don’t know, work or something. And we made our way quickly to the airport, running late for our 12:50 flight. We had planned to be at the airport at about 11:50, but left Butterfly Creek at 11:50 so got to check-in at about noon, still with the rental car to drop off. We looked at the departures board.
There was no 12:50 flight.
We looked at our itinerary, which Mike had written down. As we rummaged through my bag he muttered, “I’m sure it’s 12:50. I wrote down 12:50.” We found the note. It said 12:30. “Huh,” he said. “How did I get that wrong?” And as he spoke the first boarding call for our flight came up. I grabbed my and the kids’ boarding passes, grabbed the kids and left for the gate. Mike took his boarding pass, crossed his fingers and took off to return the car. I waited until last to board at 12:20 and told the ground crew that my darling husband was stuck on a matter of life and death and might be a wee smidge late for the plane and please hold the whole plane for him, ta. They said the flight crew hadn’t arrived yet. Heh.
We got settled on the plane without incident and waited. And waited. And the door to the gate was finally closed and the flight crew (who had already arrived, like, ages ago) were closing the overhead bins and stuff that you do when you’re cabin crew. But wait! Guess who they had to open the door for at exactly 12:30?
Yay.
And so we made it home alive, with one extra sock (which I think we found under the motel room couch. Ew) and all limbs and luggage and children intact. The kids flew like a dream. Ethan was mildly petrified when we left Christchurch because he was worried his ears might explode or implode, depending on ascent or descent, and his brain might leak out all over his LeapPad. On the flight back south, the first thing he did on the plane was tell the flight crew proudly, “I’m not scared of flying any more!”
Amy just liked the clouds. “Cowwwwd!”
Mike just liked not having Amy’s milk bottle leak all over him. Bad luck, that. I just liked when the kids didn’t eat my entire caramel slice. Also with the bad luck.
Biker chick March 29, 2007
Originally uploaded by tracicle.
Catching up on photos: Amy in Feb, enjoying the chance to ride her bike INSIDE like oh wow. She actually won’t be seen dead near Ethan’s cast-off toys normally, but the temptation was evidently too much this time. In fact, I think I have a matching photo somewhere of Ethan doing the exact same thing except crying his poor widdle heart out…
Our busy weekend November 19, 2006
I’m about to go to bed, but I feel obligated to post something before the day is out, or tomorrow I will be consumed by a vague feeling that may or may not be guilt.
This weekend, as I think I mentioned, has been hectic. We had visitors all through Thursdy and Friday and lots of spring-cleaning-type chores yesterday and today. One of those chores was cleaning the office.
Our office (for lack of a better word) is literally the size of a toilet. It used to be a bathroom and held a shower and a sink, but the previous owners converted the laundry into a proper bathroom and thought hey, what shall we do with this closet-sized space? Shall we make a closet? Hell no! We’ll call it an office and it will add $20,000 to the sale price!
Because it’s so tiny, it doesn’t actually get used much. The DSL modem and wireless router are in there, as are our two Windows machines (one of which is broken), but we live in the kitchen and use the laptop for everything. When people come to visit, I rush around and pick up papers that tend to pile up around the kitchen and throw them into the office. Likewise the kids’ arts and crafts stuff, my craft stuff, Mike’s zillions of CD-RWs, and anything we don’t want the kids to see — like, for example, a Superman costume with pop-up biceps.
Once in a while, like this weekend, I have a craving to hide in our little hole and play some relaxing video games, old school stuff like 1503AD or Warcraft II. To do that, I need to be able to see the computer. So I tidied the office. It didn’t take long, since everything in there actually has a home that I can’t usually be bothered to reach for. We have some odds and ends that need a place to live, like speaker stands and a CD rack, but mostly it scrubs up real nice.
Ahhhh.
