Climbing Exam

I thought I had hit Blog Writer's Gold last night when I came home from dropping Henry at Cub Scouts and found The Accountant literally attached to one of the kitchen cupboards by climbing rope.  Yes my husband of nearly twenty years was practising looping his climbing rope through a carabiner and back out again.  It was like being in a Lars Von Trier film or something.  He was smirking as he noticed me quietly enter the kitchen and watch this bizarre activity.

"What the..."
"Yes well I have to do a bloody exam to get a climbing gym membership.  And I'm thinking of changing my clipping technique.  Do I do it the old way..." he clipped the carabiner hanging from the kitchen cupboard "...or this way?", he clipped the carabiner again - in exactly the same manner.
"But, you just did the same thing twice."
"No!  They are two very different clipping techniques".

All this was done at eye level.  And yet the climbing rope was tied to his waist.  Where did he think he was going to fall?  In front of the dishwasher?  And then hopefully have to accidently unpack it?

So in one room was little Jonty watching Makka Pakka.  In his bedroom was Rufus talking to himself and his action men.  And The Accountant.  Practising clipping technique in the kitchen.  I suppose having me add to the equation making contemporary dance between hanging out washing is not so mad after all.

God I hope he passes the climbing exam otherwise it will be unbearable.

Namaste

One of my favourite things about Melbourne is my Sunday morning yoga class.  Last week we had another amazing yoga class, filled with sublime calm, exertion and inspiration delivered by this amazing yoga teacher.  And at the end of the class my mouth literally dropped when she announced that this was her last class with us as she was leaving to go back to Western Australia.  "Nooooooo!" I wanted to shout.  However that would not have been very beneficial to the calmness she had just instilled in the class for the last hour.

But I do feel bereft.  I also know exactly how she felt as she looked around with tears in her eyes and thanked everyone for their part in making the class special and welcoming.  It was me leaving my own dance classes all over again.  I nearly cried with her then and there.  "Don't do it" I wanted to tell her, gripping her arm in a fever of desperation "This is as good as it gets".  However, I kept it all inside (as we are taught to do) and gave her a hug and wished her well.

As one door closes though, another standing posture opens and by Monday evening I was in the above pose and feeling good.  But my back was bloody sore on Tuesday.

Pamper & Play

Now I've seen everything.  A beauty spa where mothers can obtain all manner of therapies whilst their babies and toddlers are looked after in a creche.  Sounds like heaven I suppose if you are an exhausted mother with no time for anything but cooking, cleaning and nappies.  But in reality I don't know a lot of my friends with children who would be able to afford the luxury of getting a massage with childcare thrown in.

Me.  I just want a bloody job.  I'm so envious of all those working mothers at school looking so slick in their very un-mumsy clothes.  About to swan off in their own cars, listening to music of their choice.  Or reading the paper on the train or even just walking along at their own pace without having to retrieve a thrown dummy, toy or blanket every few steps.  But then again they are probably all sitting in offices looking out on a sunny day wishing they were at the park.  Or having a raucous coffee with other mums, toddlers in tow and moaning about the usual plethora of parenting dislikes - mess, sleep deprivation, eating and bedtime.

A modern parenting annoyance is too much television or related electronic devices.  The problem is we invented these bloody machines, then gave the technology to our children to keep them quite for five minutes.  Now everybody is getting angry because the little blighters won't give it up.  I know the feeling because I went through a Lara Croft phase back in the day when you inserted the CD into your computer and used my gigantic keyboard to make Lara hop, skip and jump through all sorts of adventurous and literally bloody violence.

On any given night you can hear me becoming annoyed as the dinner hour approaches: "Henry! Dinner! Now" and Henry (equally annoyed) "One minute!  I'm in the middle of this game...Oh now you made me lose..."

Now where is the phone number for Pamper & Play....