Mother scrooge

Santa was not part of my childhood. My parents didn't like the idea of lying to their children, of actively deceiving us into believing something they knew not to be true. Their feeling was that if you did this, then once your children found out the truth, how would they ever be able to believe anything else you told them?

For Téo's second Christmas, I thought long and hard about the whole Santa thing. On the one hand, it was pretty cute when he noticed all the Santa decorations everywhere. And despite knowing that Santa wasn't real, I actually have good Santa memories - from my dad's annual work Christmas party where Santa always gave me EXACTLY what I wanted (it took an embarrassingly long time for me to realise it was mum who had put my present in his sack). Plus the idea of an annual trip up the mountains for a picture with Santa (which, ahem, we only managed twice) was also appealing.

But. But but. I just couldn't look into those big innocent eyes, and lie through my teeth. So instead I said nothing.

This strategy worked fine ... for a few months anyway until he got indoctrinated about the Easter bunny by his daycare, and came home all excited about how the little wabbit was going to hide eggs. Again it was tempting to go along with it because it was so cute, but I couldn't. He got hidden eggs, but we said nothing about who hid them.

I don't remember Santa being an issue last year, but this year - my goodness he so badly wanted to believe. I don't know who told him the story, but he knew it all - North Pole, reindeer, chimneys, the lot.

Looking into his big excited eyes as he earnestly told me all about Santa, I strongly felt that it had gone too far. That I could no longer stay silent, but had to tell the truth. So I said it was a story. A lovely story, based on a real person, but not true.

He refused to believe me. I felt mean. Right, but mean.

The next day though, he seemed to accept that Santa wasn't real without having lost any of his excitement. And that's how he stayed, hovering between belief and non-belief... exasperatedly saying I know mummy whenever I mentioned Santa was a story, but drinking up The Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve... helping to wrap presents and knowing who gave who what, but still saying it was Santa who filled his stocking... having a great Christmas despite his scrooge of a mother.

Merry Christmas!

Here comes the sun

So last week I was feeling a bit sorry for myself. There was the inconsolable misery that was Lukan thanks to a bad cold and conjunctavitis and a new tooth all at once. There were extended wails because I said that dessert required the eating of ones dinner with a fork and not fingers. There was C not being around much - like 17 days in the past month. There was being exhausted each night after work and chores. There was the unpleasant feeling of being boring and completely housebound. There were dark thoughts about being a mother; about needing to be constantly on to soothe, to discipline, to feed, to clean, to teach, to listen; about not feeling up to this never-ending, monumentally important, monumentally tedious task.

And then today, for the first time in a couple of weeks, it was sunny. Perfect weather for my favourite day of the year, when the Earth turns towards the northern spring and summer. It even felt like there was more light this evening - a trick because of the clear skies and the fact that I finished work an hour earlier than I have been lately, but nevertheless the wintery sunset over the mountains was beautiful. And this, combined with Lukan feeling better, and Téo being so sweet and loving, and my deadlines being mostly met for the year, and C home for a while, and the sure knowledge of how incredibly lucky I am, felt like a kind of turning point for me too.

And so it goes

When I lived in Sydney, I had friends who lived in a newly developed area. On the drive there I'd pass a big field, and above the field there was always a hovering hawk. I'd look out for it as I drove past, happy each time to see it.

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There's a field next to our house, with two big walnut trees. Sometime between last winter and summer, one of them died.

The main view out my office window is of the dead tree. All summer I have kind of resented it. It was a barren grey skeleton amongst the otherwise lush greenness. It blocked my view of the hills beyond. Wouldn't it be good if we could chop it down, I mused.

Then winter came, and I am so happy to be able to gaze at this dead tree. A woodpecker hops around the trunk, pecking away for grubs. Robins and other small birds dive down from the branches to gather seeds from the weeds below then dart back up for safety. When it's clear, the trunk glows golden in the late afternoon light.

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One day on the drive to my friends' house, I saw that the field had been bulldozed, ready to build new houses. My eyes went up to look for the hawk... s/he was there, no longer hovering, instead perched on a telephone wire. Where will you hunt now? I thought sadly.

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We moved into the barn with no malice towards the local bird life. But I can't deny that this winter, the birds have less to eat because of our home. Even if I hadn't weeded the front garden, it still would have been mowed, as is the back garden which, while weedy, has no tall seeding plants. Plus a large area that for decades - maybe even a hundred years - was grasses is now paved.

The owners of the field have no immediate plans to sell, but eventually they, or their children, will - and the walnut trees will come down and houses will be built.

And like that we squeeze out the wildlife, mostly without even thinking about it.

The spirit of the season

It started snowing last night and it's been snowing all day. Not heavily by any means, but still enough to be very pretty. I've been trying to get a good picture all day, and just now snapped one that seemed OK.

I came upstairs, slotted the SD card into the computer, admired the photo...

.... and did a double-take. What's that on our driveway?

A snowman??

Yes, a snowman. I hope he stays with us a while.

Life and work

Yes I know, I have been very crap lately in providing tea break fodder. I've been very crap in most parts of my life actually, leading to a slight... ah... breakdown type situation which has caused me to reassert that I am not meant to be a machine working day and night and it's OK to also focus on my friends and family. Umm, yes, I know this is obvious... the sad thing it's not the first time I've gotten myself into this must-work beaver-like mentality, and every time I have regretted putting work above life.

Anyway, the good thing about the latest reassertion is that I said I can't possibly meet the deadline by tomorrow, and hey presto guess what? I got an extension!! It's still pretty tight but at least doable now. So, phew.

And now I am going to take my kids shopping to get some decorations for our Christmas tree. Because surely you didn't think my überwoman dreams would not include a big, brightly lit (yet still tasteful) tree???

Crazy for a bit longer

So there I was yesterday, thinking I was finally on top of this big project that's taken up most of my waking time (and a lot of what should be my sleeping time) for what seems like forever, thinking for the first time since it started that I had some spare days up my sleeve before the deadline, thinking I could maybe even take a break this weekend and you know, not work, just for something novel... and then today I was told the deadline has been moved five days forward, to Wednesday next week. Which sent me back to what has become my normal state: a mix of fatigue and barely contained panic.

Back to it then.