just stuff....hmmm just life

Sometimes when I'm sort of at a bit of a loss for a good story for this blog, I look at photos I've taken and that sparks something for me to turn into at least a little reminder of our day. Seeing as how I've been away from here for so long, again, here are a few photos from randomness of our past few weeks.

Cushion cover I embroidered for my Grandma, for her birthday. She's somewhere close to her late 80's, don't think quite at 90 yet. But, she won't tell anyone. If I am like her at 90, I hope that I'll be proud to shout my age from her veranda across and down to the ocean.

We went to visit her, down the coast, and had planned a lovely little picnic at this same place. Except that it rained, and was cold. Not the best thing for the elderly or the really young - a wet, cold beach. Lovely to walk along, if you know that a warm shower and dry clothes await you somewhere not so far away. Instead we had lunch at her house, and while she fussed a bit, I did manage to get her to sit down for a few moments. She even let Sam clean the kitchen, and me to make tea for her!

So, the cushion. Actually, I really really like it. I have some more planned in my head. And actually started a few more embroideries on the drive home from her house; but used them on a different project for Ashey's birthday (no photos yet, have to post about that another time). I used an image of a sea bird, as my Grandma lives near the ocean, and likes shells and ocean-y things. The baby bird was an afterthought, and it would have been just as good without it (maybe better?).
And sewing up the cushion cover was quite quick and easy, I'll be doing it again this way. I used this great tutorial. it makes a very professional looking cushion, and more evidence of my zippered phobia conquered!
My sister visited my Grandma's house, and told me that the cushion was lovely; so that makes me happy.

Making more faces, playing dress ups, flying and posing. This is just another day in the life of my little ones. Mishi with her dress (handmade Christmas dress from my big sister), her hat, her shoes and handbag. Ari with his hand-down "Memo" (Nemo) t-shirt. The bright green shirt that family members keep saying I should accidentally loose in the wash, or something like that. It gives him happiness to choose it from his cupboard, and is much more fun than the other camo hand-downs we have. So it'll stay!

Feeding, dressing, stories, bedtime for little Roni doll. We bought this plastic doll for Ari, before Mishi was born. Hoping that he could bath and feed and dress it like a baby. I had really wanted to get him something special (like these, which I just saw last night, and think they are so sweet and like real babies). Mishi is a girl, that's for sure. She wheels the babies in the pram, asks me to dress and undress and then sits down and feeds (not breastmilk unfortunately - she looked at me strangely when I suggested that??!) them yoghurt and all sorts of messy food. Recently she borrowed another doll from Ashey - Anabella Jemima (I wanted to put her name in, as it's quite cute; a combination of Sylvie and my Mum naming the doll) - and has been taking her everywhere this past week.

The spectacular birthday party of an especially amazing boy. Ash turned 6 last week, and Sylve celebrated with a backyard party, which turned into a fireside Solstice and housewarming party. Kids went to bed (eventually), and we adults stayed up until almost 3am having beautiful music sung and strummed for us. With our feet stuck under the $10 cast iron fire pit, to keep the cold cold night from stinging us.

I made the birthday cake; a chocolate beetroot cake. Sort of made the recipe up - as I have been doing lately with lots of my cakes, bread, etc. I will make it again, as I see real potential in the beetroot chocolate thing. And then we iced it with green coconut 'grass' and licorice 'road' and lots of crashed cards. Ash asked for a racing car cake, this was our compromise to not making some extravagant real car with lots of colours and icings and such. As you can see, the kids loved the idea of real Matchbox cars; which they took home as their party bag thing. (No take home lolly bags for this family, with silly plastic toys - most kids were fairly happy with that).

And finally, a few photos I took this afternoon, after reading this quote. And then feeling terrible that I hadn't had the energy to take the kids to the park as promised. (Started a new job this past month which is great but tiring, and Mishi is still drinking so much milk at night-time). And that we had had a bit of yelling today. So, when I came across this post - going through my long blog list, while the kids watched Play School - it really stopped me. Here I am, trying to make a promise to remember to live more harmoniously with myself and my children. I'm just rewriting the quote, to continue to remind myself about what it means to me.

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

Viktor E. Frankl

Edited: Sylve has told me that the doll's name isn't Anabella Jemima, that it's actually Jemima Anabella. I've put it in here, as a reference for my declining memory. I remember that I used to have an excellent memory - not so any more. Is it kids? Or just, something else?

what we wore

I just wanted to show you what I wore today. A plain grey t-shirt. With a refashioned skirt - originally a short and skimpy dress (not so good on breastfeeding Mamas!), snipped quickly this morning it fits my hips well, zip already in perfect spot, though I do plan to properly finish the snipped seam, it's quite okay for now. My old old old - so loved - mohair jumper; given to me by my Mum and Dad possibly 15 years ago, all worn out, especially on the elbows, but I love it so much - for more than it's warmth and colour and feel, for it's memories. And the necklace Sam made me for Mother's Day, using the beads I have from my Mum.

And what Mishi wore yesterday. The green shirt and red floral pants that Sam put on her, to keep warm. Topped by a blue stripey dress that I made her, which is too big, so waiting for Summer - but she insists on trying things on. Wrapped up in a piece of fabric I had in my hands when she wondered into the room, and requested (demanded!) me to put on her. I was wondering if the floral would be good for a skirt for her, possibly shirred, but I think those big flowers might be too much, too big for a little creature. What do you think?

I keep wondering where Mishi gets this thing of needing to dress up, choose her prettiest clothes, be fussy about what she's wearing. At not even 16months, she's quite particular about what we put on her. She wears hats and handbags around the house, wants to put things one. Chooses her clothes, and lays them on the couch in preparation for getting dressed for the day.

Yesterday I spied her leaning into the bottom drawer of her cupboard, seeing what she wanted to wear. Like a teenager...

I must make more exciting, special, treasures for Ari to wear. He feels left out when people are constantly saying how cute and pretty Mishi looks. Most of his clothes are passed down (from my in-laws next door neighbours), so they are good quality, but not styles or colours, and definitely not prints (logos, brands, etc), that I would choose. But, really how can we say no to four+ years of good clothes. That keep on coming, and are still good for the next hand-down. Any ideas on how I can spunk him up a bit, in his very 'boy' clothes - make him a bit more handmade, unusual, himself?

pieces of my mother

Last week Sylve went home to Dad's house for the weekend, and came back with some birthday presents for me. Some lovely ceramic rice bowls, and a glass butter dish - all second hand, and really beautiful, already being used lots in our house. And all wrapped so specially - everyone in my family is great at wrapping presents, but the way my Dad wrapped these surprised and pleased me. Some lovely lace ribbon that he found in my Mum's things - he still keeps pulling things out slowly, bit by bit and sharing her things around with us all.

After I opened these, Sylve presented me with a bundle of maroony-red fabric. Slowly unfolding it - some pieces of my Mother. A quilt that she was making, working on over years - I imagine. Hand-stitching little scraps of colour together. Using fabric that had had another life somewhere else in her life. Pieces of my Dad's lungi; scraps from my Mum's worn and used sarongs; left over fabric from the tails coat my Mum and I made for my brother's year twelve formal (that's a whole story on it's own!); here and there, pieces that I remember from coats and dresses and bedspreads and lengths of material my Mum owned, pieces that permeated my childhood - vague memories mostly.

(I love this one best, I think. That peachy silk next to the green turquiouse one).

Put together in a haphazard manner - which is who my Mum was, how she was. Colour on colour on pattern on texture - mixing and matching and merging. Hit and miss - yet always my Mum, unforgettably my Mum.

My Mum was vivid, vibrant, colour, warmth, texture, strength, depth, light. Love. Life. In her house, her clothes, her food, her words, her voice, her art (potting, drawing, knitting, crochet, sewing, embroidery, weaving........), her gardening, her yoga, her stories, her dreams, her wisdom. And, so thankfully, her children.

Hmmm, this post was meant to be about the quilt. And about my anticipation to have the time to sit down and take all those patches and put them together. To piece a quilt that my Mother made. My Dad has given me this honour, this gift, this treasure. I feel so blessed and lucky to have this opportunity to finish what my Mum started. To show her life, to have it in my house, to wrap around myself and my babes. I may need some help and advice (from all you experts) when I finally get to it - and I'll give details when.

(Just look at this cluster and combination of patterns and colours!).

A quilt, we know, is so much more than just about the material, the weave, the fabric, the colour, the stitches. Think of those words, of the numerous meanings for the word fabric of life; weave of existence; material; piecing, patching, stitching things together. We feel that a quilt has a life of it's own, due to the love and energy and attention and care that it's maker imparts on it - deliberately or not. Traditional quilts have names, for a reason; they we made for or by someone, created and developed, and stitched into life and being by a person (a woman).

When I finally lay this out, to look at, and photograph, I said to Sam - this is my Mum, isn't it. And, he agreed. I touched the pieces of scraps of life and memories. And smiled. With tears sitting in the back of my eyes. The way she used some fabrics backwards, liking the reverse print or texture more or differently than the 'correct' side. The way she put reds and maroons and pinks next to each other. And patterns with patterns with patterns. That was the way my Mum dressed.

Thinking about this. I am so like my Mum. My fabric juxtapositions come from her, my want to have an almost clash in the patterns, to try and find that harmony in the mess or loudness or lines and shapes.

I really wish I had some photos to show you, of my Mum. Maybe I will someday. Please read this, written by a dear friend (in our shared blog - that I'm sharing with you for the first time). It reminded me of different things about my Mum, from someone I grew up with, and saw my Mum differently than I did (do).

Okay. Now I will load the photos, and leave it at that. (Excuse the quality, late at night photos).

Thank you Dad, for giving me this most preciousness. Rather than letting is sit and be eaten by mice or insects or mould.