Tag Archives: family

Happiest girl in the world.

15 Jul

the holsbysI just got off the phone to renowned Australian anthropologist Dr Stephen Juan (hello shameless name drop).

We’ve spoken a few times of late and we usually speak business for 5 minutes and then spend 40 minutes talking about all things life, love and anthropology (today we also touched on chocolate; you know the big topics).

There are few people that you instantly connect with, but I can safely say I think he’s a truly interesting and remarkable human. I look forward to making up an excuse to contact him again as he’s one of those people that you feel happier for having spoken with them.

That’s a gift.

He was telling me why he feels he’s the happiest guy in the world and in the folds of his tale were numerous wonderful things that had happened to him over the course of his life, and Stephen attributed them to luck. Of course, as an observer, I can see that his hard work, and kind deeds and sunshiny energy has drawn wonderful things his way and it got me to thinking about me…. you know, cos it always comes back to me.

I have had so many fantastic experiences in my life. I have traveled far and wide, and had adventures that many will only ever dream of. It wasn’t a big deal, I just explored with a thirst for adventure and immersed myself in situations. Some were ridiculous, sure, but most were wondrous.

One of the things that Stephen said made him truly happy was thinking about how many people loved him.

Isn’t that cool?

kiki and mamaJust this morning on our way to school D Man was asking me who loved him.

“I do.”

“Who else loves me?”

“Daddy.”

“And who else loves me?”

“Kiki.”

“And who else loves me?”

“Nana”

“And who else loves me?”……

This went on until I really couldn’t think of another person who loved him.

Even family members overseas that haven’t seen him since he was a babe.

Even Mr Fluffy Pants who is actually probably ambivalent before D Man gives him breakfast and downright disinterested after.

Anyway, two times in one day is not a coincidence in my book, but a poke in my eye for me to sit quietly for a minute and think about all of the people who love me. I decided I would go beyond the obvious, like people whose butts I wipe, or I cook food for, but into the greater spectrum of people who send good juju my way because they care.

There was actually quite a long mental list, new friends who I’ve met online through this crazy business called blog who actively send me love, old friends who I may not have seen for a while but when we get together the love feels just the same as it always did, and then there are those special people who when they hug me and they beam their love directly into my heart from theirs like a bolt of rose coloured lightning.

Family near and family far, and family not related by blood but because we chose each other, and chose to adopt each other permanently into our lives.

So much lovely love.

If I was to measure my happiness in units of love radiated at me, then I really am very lucky.

I have to say that’s a happy thought.

Someone who loves me dearly, with whom I have had many adventures, and misadventures, with took these beautiful images of us recently. She put a little blog up on her site if you’d like to see the whole series. Check us out here.

Anyway, take a minute to think about who loves you because that shit really warms the cockles of your heart.

Be happy, lovers.

Life is short.

danielle colley

 

If you like what you’re seeing, why not like my Facebook page now?

You can also subscribe via email, or follow me on Instagram and twitter at The Holsbys to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.

 

 

Mama Bear

4 Jul

mamma bear There are few more influential women in your life than your mum. Whether your relationship is amazing or appalling that single connection can shape so much of who you are.

In this regards, I am blessed.

I know a lot of people think their mum is cool, but they haven’t met my Mum. No matter what hair brained scheme I ever had, my mum always encouraged me to follow my dreams. She told me I could be whatever I wanted to be and not to live small.

I was the kid whose friends wanted to hang with my Mum… in fact, they still do.

The mother of my childhood was a statuesque style queen.

I used to think she was a cross between Annie Lennox and Sheena Easton. She liked cool music, cool clothes, parties, dancing and she had great hair (except for the Laura Ashley period which I’m not allowed to talk about).

As a single mum she’d take me most everywhere with her as a kid and I loved being privy to the adult world, pretending to be asleep at parties but secretly watching the grown ups dancing, smoking, kissing and living it up. As a result I suppose I grew up kind of fast, but I personally think my trajectory in this department was set because of the type of person I am.

I couldn’t wait to be a grown up…. that said, I also slept in my mum’s bed with her for years. Partly because my bedroom was chronically messy, but mostly because I loved spooning up with my Mama in the night and feeling her warmth next to me.

She liked it too.

I guess my growing up process got fast tracked a little when I was about 13 and Mama started getting headaches. Not just any old headaches but real whopper doozies. Her eyesight went blurry and things started getting scary so they did some tests on her.

Initially everyone feared a brain tumour.

She had all the symptoms, but they couldn’t find it so she went from our home in Coffs Harbour to Sydney for more extensive testing.

mum and II was a sensitive kid, hence being a sensitive adult I guess, and I was devastated that I couldn’t make my mum better. I remember holding her hand and massaging her head trying to take her pain away as she lay on the bed in tears.

Alas, I was just a kid, and she had something happening inside her that was beyond our control.

The thing about my mum is she is the most vibrant, fun, and fun loving person I know. She is wise, she is spiritual and there ain’t much that could shock her.

I’ve always been able to tell her all of my sex, drugs and rock’n’roll stories and more that once I’ve heard her say -

Danielle, did you have to tell me that????

But I do. Because I can. And that’s a gift.

I hope one day my kids like me as much as I like my mum. I hope they turn to me when they have sensitive and painful scars to share, or deep fears that they want soothed.

Over the years many of my friends have adopted her as their own, and now the people she lists as her dear friends range from 18 years old to 90. She spans the ages because she is open to everyone- Open minded and open hearted.

She can cook a mean feast and she can drink up a storm and she has so many wonderful qualities that define who she is.

Multiple Sclerosis is not who my mum is. Her illness does not define her. It’s an aspect of her life just as much as all of the wonderful things and she had often said MS has been a teacher that has taught her valuable life lessons.

My mum is fun, and loving, and silly.

My mum is gentle and fierce, and fucking brave.

She is also an unbelievable Nana. She reckons these little stinkers have given her a new lease of life.

If I’m half the women she is when I grow up then I’m gonna be a whole lotta awesome.

mum and I

 

Thanks for coming to stay with me, Mama. Can you babysit tomorrow?

 

If you like what you’re seeing, why not like my Facebook page now?

You can also subscribe via email, or follow me on Instagram and twitter at The Holsbys to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.

 

 

 

 

 

Baby nightmares and Spiced Pumpkin Soup

26 Jun

spicy pumpkin soupD Man was a late talker so when he cried out in the night I just had to guess it was a nightmare and rub his nappied butt till he drifted back off to  the Land of Nod.

You can tell by the cry if it’s just a ‘Mama, come give me some sugar’ moment, or a true night terror.

Whenever it was blatantly the latter I’d wonder what it is a toddler has nightmares about?

Not so much mystery with the Kikster. She’s a talker, my girl. I guess some apples fall pur-ty close to the ol’ gnarly motor mouth mama tree.

She has quite a few bad dreams, say, a couple of times a week and they range from calling out things like “go away!” or “stop it!”, and then rolling over, no intervention required, to full blown terror and needing loads of calming, stroking, and cooing.

She dreams of sibling violence which she describes through sobbing tears.

“D Man.(sob) Bit.(sob) My.(sob) Finger.(sob) Go away, D Man!”(sob, sob sob. Coo, coo, coo.)

“D Man. Pushed. My. Back. Kiki fall over.”

Big sobs. Huge.

You know those dreams where you dream your partner has slighted you in some way and you wake up cranky with them?
Sometimes I’m glad she’s trapped behind bars so she can’t commando roll across the hall in her pink flannelette camoflage pj’s,  slip soundlessly into his room and commit acts of revenge unbeknownst to me as I hunker down on the couch with a glass of wine as big as my head and a bowl of ice-cream as big as my arse.

You may think it sounds far fetched (the commando roll, not the size of the wine) but she’s a feisty one and a sleeping sibling is easy pickings.

It’s not all domestic aggression that takes up space in her nocturnal dreamscapes, however. She also gets prehistoric hysteria, or prehysteria.

We spend a lot of time talking, exploring, examining and discussing dinosaurs during waking hours in this house so it’s not a great leap to discover they penetrate her impressionable subconscious.

“Dinosaur. Ate. My. Teddy.”

“Dinosaur. Chasing. Monsters.”

Trying to explain the relationship between extinct dinosaurs and non-existant monsters to a sobbing two year old at  3A.M. is not really worth the effort so we’ve done a spot of bed hopping of late.

I used to be all “Oh no, never let the stinkers into your bed or you’ll never get rid of them” but you know, schnuggling up with a child that’s clinging to you for comfort, drifting off with their feather soft hair tickling your nostrils, waking up with sharp little toenails digging into your cheek, it’s is all part of the gig.

And I kinda like a stolen cuddle.

It’s comforting to wake with a sleepy warm kid because it’s winter and I never think of utilising my hot water bottle. They’ve gotta be good for something, right?

Another way to keep mega warm sans hot water bottles or sproglets is spicy soup.

Not in bed.

That’s weird, unless you’re that way inclined, in which case I recommend a water proof mattress protector because this vibrant soup will stain the crap out of your mattress.

spicy pumpkin soupSpicy Pumpkin Soup

What you will need : 

  • 1 butternut pumpkin, peeled, deseeded and chopped
  • 1 litre chicken or vegetable stock
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 3 cm ginger, peeled and chopped
  • 1 carrot, chopped
  • 2 stalks celery, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons curry powder.
  • Fresh coriander, for serving
  • natural yoghurt, for serving

What you will need to do : 

Whack it in a pot minus the coriander and yoghurt.

Simmer till it’s mushy.

Wazz it in the food processor.

Serve it. Sprinkle it with coriander and drizzle it with yoghurt.

You’re welcome.

 

 

 

spicy pumpkin soup

 

 

Cook Once, Feed All COVER_lr

Cook Once, Feed All is about making your life easier whilst preparing nutritious and quick food for your family. Hailed by Mouths of Mums as the ‘must have recipe book for all families’, this book is a collection of family friendly recipes, all accompanied by stories from my life.

To order your hardcopy of Cook Once, Feed All head to the Holsby Shop right now.

If you like what you’re reading why not like my Facebook page now or subscribe via email, to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.

 

‘Mama, are you going to die?’…. lessons in death.

27 May lessons in death
the fam halloween

Could dress ups like these be responsible for his fascination with death??? My bad.

D Man is slightly obsessed with dying at the moment, and when I say slightly I’m playing it down.

Every time his little voice pipes up with another question my mind starts racing because I really don’t know if I’m handling it properly. I mean, I’m being honest about it. That’s what you do with kids, right?

Honesty.

I’m being frank and matter of fact, but whilst not sugar coating it exactly, I’m definitely not discussing childhood illnesses that may cause imminent death, so we’re working with honesty, to a point.

It’s curly questions like these that really make me realise my boy is no longer a baby. His little synapses are processing stuff and putting stuff together and asking some big questions…. ones I’m not totally prepped for. I think when it comes time for sex and wanking conversations, I’ll be all over it, but something about this death chat freaks me a bit. I’m not afraid of death myself, but D Man is getting upset by all of his questions.

I’m really not certain where his new curiosity has sprung from but a typical conversation goes something like this.

‘Mama, am I going to die?’

‘Yes, honey, everyone dies one day, but I hope you’re not going to die for a really long time.’

‘Are you going to die?’

‘I am, but I’m not planning on it until I’m older than Grandpapa.’

(Sorry Dad, somehow you became the benchmark for old age. His great grandparents are simply too old to fathom.)

Often around this mark of the conversation he will start to keen a little, or whimper.

‘I don’t want you to die.’

This is where it gets tricky……because I’m not trained for this conversation, and because I HAVE NO TACT. This part is the part where my mouth goes dry, and my mind races to find the right words to explain that death is a part of life. It’s inevitable, and although it’s sad to lose someone…..then breaking my revery he cries -

‘I don’t want Kiki to die!!!’

I try to gently explain the whole Circle of Life business but we’re not quite up to wrapping our heads around the idea ; we seem to be stuck on the death part.

The biggest thing kids have a hard time understanding, apparently, is the permanence of death. That you no longer eat, or sleep, or breathe. I feel like he gets that though, hence the fear he has of death.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he just asked once or twice, but we’re covering the same territory probably twice a day at the moment. I thought I would turn to my trusty parenting encyclopaedia The Internet, but the first site I came across suggested a good way to broach the subject is when a family pet dies.

Now, I admit wholeheartedly that Mister Pants can be an utter jerk but I don’t think killing him and holding a kitty funeral is the solution here… nor is buying a  stupid fish tank with stupid fish that I’ll be stuck cleaning once a week until I do actually kill the unfortunate creatures who inhabit it.

Surely, that’s more of a lesson in murder than mortality?

Most posts are about teaching a child to cope with grief after loss, or expressing my own sadness at losing a loved one. We haven’t actually lost a loved one, nor a pet, so it’s not like death has knocked on our door with it’s cold and brittle fingers. This inquisitiveness has come out of the blue.

It’s totally normal, I realise, and even covering the same ground many times over is fine, he’s just processing. Apparently I should be encouraging further discussion about it to make sure we’ve really got everything covered off in his brain but I’m just kinda sitting with it and letting him drive this one.

I figure as long as he doesn’t start asking me about my will, I won’t worry that he’s asking about my death.

 

If you like what you’re seeing, why not like my Facebook page now as I have a whole shebangalang going on there.

You can also subscribe via email, or follow me on Instagram and twitter at The Holsbys to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.

 

 

 

 

Monster Birthdays Are Us.

21 May holsby monster party

Last year at D Man’s 3rd birthday party I organised a game or two prior but I cracked the wine before anyone got there and by the time it was in full swing I was two sheets to the wind and just let it go. The dinosaur archeology sandpit quest went undug, my egg and spoon race went unrun, and basically I failed the party.

I had a great time until my friendly neighbour kindly pointed out to me that it not my party, but my kids, and I should step up my game.

Was she challenging me?

Or just bagging the crap outta me?

Both.

But I copped it on the chin and stepped up my game. I made games, wrapped Pass the Parcel, overstuffed and piñata (rookie error. Did you know there was such as thing as too many lollies????) and layered jelly with monsters eyeballs.

I set up a face painting station and I didn’t drink wine until anyone arrived.

Shit, man, I had bunting. My cyber friend Bron from Maxabella Loves swears it ain’t a kid’s party until you have bunting.

I so had this Monster party in the bag, my friends.

In. The. Bag.

Except……………….

My cake was utterly spectacular to look at, but in the name of full disclosure I must shamefacedly admit to a fail. That damned thing was so dense you needed a chainsaw to cut it.

I’m not being modest, it was almost unanimous. It sucked.

holsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster party

If you like what you’re seeing, why not like my Facebook page now?

You can also subscribe via email, or follow me on Instagram and twitter at The Holsbys to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.

 

And then you were 2.

8 May kiki at 2

kiki babyAt kindy the other day one of your teachers asked me if I’d been having any trouble with you, my littlest love.

I responded that I had notices a few changes, that you had indeed been more obstinate, more disobedient than usual, why did she ask?

She told me that you not only blatantly refused to do as you were asked a number of times, but you gave her a filthy death stare as you stood your ground.

I was secretly a little bit proud. It’s hard to be cross with you.

kiki and dexIs this 2, we wonder?

Do we have an entire year of this before the threes take hold?

My love, my dear heart, my sweet little girl, I think this may actually be you. Feisty, determined, fierce.

You are such a headstrong creature that I think perhaps we are destined to years of you blatantly, obstinately disregarding directions and doing whatever the hell you want.

kiki 2You know what?

Maybe if you were my first child I would worry, but as my second, I think ‘you go, girl’. You are so delightful in a myriad of ways that your desire to stand your ground ought to serve you well in time.kiki in bumbo

We will butt heads no doubt, but your soft and loving side will never be buried too far beneath your stubbornness and I think I will always be able to snaffle a schnuggle out of you.

You do love a schnuggle and I love to bury my nose into the soft flesh of your neck and just breathe in the caramel smell of my baby…. even though you’re not quite as sweet smelling as you once were, I’ll always be intoxicated by you.

kiki around 1

You will always be my baby girl, and I will always have your back.

The time has gone fast, my girl. It’s been a wild ride with many changes but it’s passed me by in a flash of firsts.

You were slow to walk.

I imagined you crawling into your first day of high school for a while there, but there you finally stood on your chubby little legs and you wobbled your butt as you took those first uncertain strides. Now you run. You fall a lot so I’m guessing you have your mother’s coordination, but you do so love to run….away from me when I’m trying to get you into the car, or get you dressed.

kiki 2You may have been slow to walk but you are quick to laugh. You think your brother is hilarious, except when you think he’s a pain in the ass. You oscillate about 60/40, I reckon.

You’re generous with your love. Throwing your arms around people, throwing your entire little body at them for a cuddle. Pulling yourself onto laps, locking yourself around legs. You have no shortage of love to give, this much I know.

Today is your 2nd birthday, dear Kikster.

You talk better than many of your peers, and count to 20 but you still pee your pants so we won’t put you down as a prodigy just yet, but know that your Mama thinks you’re the coolest little girl in the world.

kiki at 2Because you’re mine.

And your double dimples simply melt me every. single. time.

Happy birthday, Angel.

Today is your day and we will eat chocolate cake, and drink strawberry smoothies, swing you on the garden swing, go and feed the ducks and paint with bright colours, because these are the things that you enjoy the most, and we shall do them with gusto on your second birthday.

kiki almost 2I love you, Wiggles.

Always,

Your Mama.

 

If you like what you’re seeing, why not like my Facebook page now as I have a whole shebangalang going on there.

You can also subscribe via email, or follow me on Instagram and twitter at The Holsbys to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.

 

 

The stories of our post-baby flesh.

3 May holsbys post baby body

I recently received a Facebook ad in my newsfeed for a brilliant new procedure being offered to mums. It was enticingly titled ‘Australia’s First Mummy Makeover Package.’

The makeover consisted of a little tummy tuck for the excess skin where your flesh stretched to accommodate your growing child, some liposuction across your hips where they thickened to help balance your load and post operative pilates to help improve your core.

The accompanying photograph was a flat belly with the tell-tale dashes drawn on to highlight problem areas begging to be cut back into shape.

I’m not anti-surgery. Far from it.

If you truly feel that nipping and/or tucking, lifting, plumping, smoothing or reducing will help you feel better about yourself, help elevate your sexuality, and increase your self-confidence, then go for it with great gusto.

What I am anti, however, is the suggestion that after we grow a human being inside of us for nine months until our skin is positively bursting, stretching and tearing from the inside with that creature of our loins, that the excess stomach skin, added fat and thickened hips are so undesirable that we should cut it out of our very bodies.

It’s insanity.

I feel like the world has gone mad for suggesting such a thing.

We are not meant to look youthful and nubile forever.

Our bodies tell the stories of our lives and we should hold our heads high and own the tales our skin can tell.

Each scar carries a paragraph, each purple or silvery mark like a tiger’s stripes show our journey from child to woman to mother, and we gracefully, graciously head towards the final twilight of our bodies as they eventually fade like flowers.

I was angered by this ad in my feed, and I was disgusted by the use of an image that was obviously ‘aesthetically pleasing‘.

I was moved to create something that highlighted the beauty that is the body that has created another being.

The post-baby body.

Whether your child is 2 weeks, or 20, your body tells the story.

Feeling good about yourself is so important. Feeling strong and healthy in your body and mind is all interconnected, and feeling less desirable after having children is something so many women feel. Less beautiful than the old pre-baby you.

I just want to say ‘Bullshit.’

Confidence is beautiful. Bravery is gorgeous. An ability to laugh at yourself is to die for.

You must remember you made a person.

You are an alchemist.

You are magnificent.

 

post baby bodypost baby body

 

post baby body

post baby body

post baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodyHolsbys - post baby bodypost baby body

post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodyholsbys post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodypost baby bodypost baby body

 A humungous thank you to the beautiful ladies who participated in this post. Your bravery and honesty was both humbling and empowering.

If you like what you’re seeing, why not like my Facebook page now as I have a whole shebangalang going on there.

You can also subscribe via email, or follow me on Instagram and twitter at The Holsbys to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.

Never forget the true meaning of Easter….. The Easter Show.

20 Apr the show

The idea of the Royal Easter Show sends shivers down my spine. Not those exciting anticipatory shivers, but more like the shivers you get just before you pass diarrhoea.

I get that The Show is kinda fun, but it’s just such a ball ache.

It’s the mission to get there, the throngs of bogans, the gaggles upon swarms of other people’s children, the Dagwood Dogs from oily smelling vans, the penned animals in humid tents, exorbitant parking, the waiting – oh, the waiting in lines – and the million dollars you spend in order to have this horrible day out.

I reckon it would be fairly safe to call me the Easter Grinch….. that was until this year. I was pumped.

I admit that I only braved the baby sister lame-o excursion to the Easter Family Show at Fox Studios, but it had everything I described just in smaller, more palatable doses.

In fact, The Grinch had herself bags of fun…. but man, that four hours felt like a 48 hour dance-a-thon. My feet were sore, my back ached, I was covered in a mild layer of dirt, and I had tomato sauce smeared all over me making me look like I’d been to battle.

The kids had a great day though but it’s hard to tell, check out D Man’s head when he’s finally got hold of the first hotdog of his life.

A horse walks into a bar, or what????

the arrival the show

 

the rides the show

the show

kiks and clowns the showDSC_0022

the lego, the showthe lego the showthe junk food the showjosh and ducks the showthe animals the showthe birds the showthe mice, the showthe love the show

the show bag, the showthe end the show

If you like what you’re seeing, why not like my Facebook page now?

You can also subscribe via email, or follow me on Instagram and twitter at The Holsbys to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.

 

4

10 Apr Dexter

first lookMy big little man,

1459 days we’ve spent together but it’s been 1460 nights.

35, 040 hours have past since you were first laid upon my bare breast and you looked straight at me, straight in my eyes, and they said -

I KNOW YOU.

That first night with you beside my bed I couldn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t believe you were here. I couldn’t believe you were mine.

So perfect, so sweet smelling. That didn’t last.

D Man and mama

Countless heartbeats have passed between us but your heartbeats are your own now. I used to feel every one, but you are getting more distant as you turn from a baby into a boy. In a few more blinks of my eyes you’ll be a man.

They always said it goes fast, and it does. Not the nights. The endless, drawn out nights where you cried, or were ill, and I held you, but they seem so far away now when all you want from me is maybe a quick cuddle or to take you for a pee before you roll over and snuggle your face into Rat and spoon that toy that is no longer bigger than you.

You’re so confident and smart. You chat to people, and you charm them with your funny wit or silliness, unless you drive them nuts with your whining. That happens too.

You surprise me and delight me endlessly and I really couldn’t be prouder of you.

D man almost oneToday you are four.

The first birthday that I won’t be with you all day.

I feel a healthy dose of mother’s guilt over that, but it’s also the first birthday that your Papa has spent the whole day with you. He’ll show you a grand old time and we’ll kick it large on the weekend with a chocolate cake bigger than your head.

When we were leaving the supermarket today I gave you and Kiki a biscuit. You were stoked, but your cranky pants sister didn’t want it and she hit it out of my hand and onto the ground.

Then she wanted it, naturally.

I refused to give her another, and nor would I pick the one up off the carpark floor, and she squawked and squawked. As we were driving off she suddenly went quiet. I figured she was inhaling a really huge breath in order to give it some more however when I turned she was eating half a biscuit.

D man about twoYou had split yours and passed it over in the backseat.

Now, don’t get me wrong, boy, you are a stinker when you want to be, and you torture that poor sister of yours, but in that moment I saw your true character, and you’re a good dude.

Happy birthday, D Man.

I love you to the shops and back,

Mama xxx

DSC_0289 D Man 4

Milestones, tears and lunchbox scrolls

1 Apr scrolls

Kiki's first day of kindyKiki’s little body looked so tiny when her new pink and turquoise butterfly bag was hoisted onto her back.

She wouldn’t let me carry it for her even though with her water bottle and lunchbox it was kind of heavy. She was well chuffed to finally have a school bag to call her own. Maybe she’ll grow up to be lover of fine handbags, or kooky carriers that look like animals.

Or just a crazy bag lady.

Walking up the footpath, heading to her first day of daycare, my heart was as heavy in my chest as her bag looked on her shoulders.

Always fiercely independent Kiki wouldn’t even let me help her by taking some of the weight, so I left her because essentially that’s what this day is about.

The second cutting of the cord.

She’s been looking forward to this day for weeks, always sad when we drop D Man off, always wanting to stay and play with the kids. She’s ready. I have no doubt, it’s just that it’s come sooner than I thought and my heart is a little heavy.

This is a milestone. For Kiki and for myself.

Next Monday I’ll be starting a new job. My first day of work in four years. Technically, between writing books and blogs and scripts and stuff I have barely had a single day off, but now I’m GOING TO WORK.

Somewhere that will require pants and a bra.

Kiki’s first day at kindy is a turning point that marks the beginning of big changes in my life, and all our lives, and her smiling face as she was smearing Clag glue all over paper with more abandon than I would never allow at home reminds me that this the beginning of a new era and not just the end of an old one.

She’s only going two days a week, but right now that feels like a lot.

Kiki's first day of kindyI felt quite brave walking in but 15 minutes later as I kissed her little golden head goodbye I was quite shaky on the insides.

I gathered my things and called goodbye to her one last time, but she didn’t even turn to look at me as she was engrossed in something new and exciting.

It’s lucky, I suppose, because she would have seen tears welling in my eyes and a spectacularly wobbly lip as I severed that umbilical cord just a little bit further and say farewell to my baby.

I’ll pick her up after lunch. Just a short day on your first day, but I made sure her lunch was a special one, because she’s also mega proud of her new lunchbox. It’s just like her big brother’s, you see, and she thinks he’s pretty cool except when he’s licking her hair, sticking dinosaurs down her nappy or stealing her food.

scrolls2Cheesy lunchbox scrolls

Yield : 10 

What you will need :

  •  1 ½ cups plain flour (I used spelt)
  •  1 ½ cups wholemeal flour (I used spelt)
  •  3 teaspoons baking soda
  •  1 pinch Salt and cracked black pepper
  •  60 grams chilled butter, chopped
  •  ¾ cup milk
  •  3 tablespoons Mrs Balls Chutney (or whatever chutney floats your boat)
  • 2 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 2 rashers of bacon, diced
  • 2 teaspoons dried mixed herbs or thyme
  • 2 spring onions, finely sliced
  •  1 ½ packed cups grated cheese
  • 1/2 zucchini grated
  •  Extra milk, for brushing (may require more)

scrollsWhat you will need to do :

Preheat oven to 210°C

Fry off your bacon until cooked and yummy. Set aside to cool.

Quick-whisk the flour (don’t forget my whisk trick, just whisk it! Place the flour into a bowl and give it a good whisk to aerate and remove lumps. My cheats’ version of sifting)

Add baking powder, salt and pepper and herbs in a bowl and add the butter then using your fingertips, rub in the butter until the mixture resembles rough breadcrumbs. Toss in your chopped spring onion.

Make a well in the centre. Combine the milk with ½ cup water and pour the liquid into the well. Using a flat bladed knife, cut through the flour mixture until it comes together as a rough dough. If it’s too dry, add a little more water a teaspoon at a time.

Tip the dough onto a work surface dusted with flour and knead lightly until it can form a ball. Don’t overwork it. Roll out the dough to a rectangle approximately 30 x 40cm in size.

Mix your tomato paste and chutney together and smear over the entire surface, then sprinkle with cheese, cooled bacon and grated zucchini.

Roll up to form a big cigar. Slice the roll into pieces approximately 2cm wide and place scrolls so they are touching each other on a baking tray lined with baking paper. Brush each scroll with a little extra milk

Chuck them in the oven and bake for 25 minutes or until cooked through and crunchy. If the scrolls start to brown too quickly cover with foil
.

Cool on a wire rack then break apart.

kiki's first day of kindy

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 2,471 other followers

%d bloggers like this: