Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Where’s me thongs, Mum?

It appears we are raising a hobbledehoy, or wathever the female equivalent might be.
I’ve known it ever since, at the age of two, climbing into her high chair, she announced, “Crikey Mum, me boots nearly went in me tucker!”
I’m not altogether sure where it comes from. Maybe her father, with his copperplate writing and boarding school education - not to mention the many nights spent sleeping on the ground at racetracks all over the country. Sometimes actually on the racetracks all over the country.
Maybe it’s me - born and raised in the city, but with an Australian accent so broad I’m a Dad and Dave team all on me bloody own. I can remember radio voice training at uni, and the “this will be a challenge” expression on the tutor’s face as I read my first bulletin. Oddly enough, I ended up in newspapers.
Anyway, however it has happened, she’s a hoyden. A rollicking, bouncing, hat-wearing, wide-gesturing hoyden.
It has not been helped along by the CD of Aussie songs we acquired from somewhere. She goes into a frenzy at the sight of an Australian flag, and knows every word of at least the first verse of the national anthem. Not natural at three.
She can bounce along to Skippy, affirm she’s a happy little vegemite, and declare that she likes Aeroplane Jelly - Aeroplane Jelly’s for her.
We caused a disturbance in Woollies last week with the rousing lines:
“The ringer looks around, but is beaten by a blow - and curses the old snagger with the BARE BELLIED JOE!” This was closely followed by Waltzing Matilda with just as much relish.
A lovely old lady stopped to tickle her under the chin and say, “That’s a happy little song!”
I was a bit worried the Squid, who is having personal space issues, would sock her one. It passed without incident, however, and I smiled fondly at my little Shiralee, with her ponytails at messy angles and half an Uncle Toby’s muesli bar stuck to her shirt.
You can understand my concern now that it appears we are moving to the country. I’ve bought her a flanellette shirt and gumboots, and she is often to be heard wishing for a home among the gum trees. Perhaps she will pick up a bit of refinement. One can only hope.
Anyway, strike me pink, I’d better go. Two chubby arms are strangling me in a bid to play “Tie Me Kangaroo Down, `Spot’”.
Love youse all.

Posted by Marie at 11:48:19 | Permalink | No Comments »

Monday, April 6, 2009

Tree change #1

I know it’s been a while, but there’s a reason.
The reason is we are moving to the country. No more public transport, silent wrestling for small child space on the footpath, agro motorists claiming the right of way etc etc etc. No more botoxed, tanned women waiting for their focaccias at the local coffee shop, no more, no more, no more.
of course, we could get there and find more of the same.
We are going to a small country town with no jobs, but no mortgage. We want to look at something other than other people’s walls, traffic and the inside of a train window. We want the Squid to know what animals are. We want less pressure.
We will, of course, have to eat. There is that pressure.
We will be moving next door to my best mate. I love her and hope we can continue to love each other as our lives and children mingle together as never before.
I love the NSW town we are moving to. Small, cold, pretty.
I have never lived in the country before, but don’t feel any anxiety on that account.
We are leaving behind this house, which we have had happy, happy, happy times in (and other times), and was the first home of the Squid. We are leaving behind family and friends - but it is at most 3.5 hours away.
It is one of those runaway trains. The decision is made, the house found, this house sold. 33 days to go.
Posted by Marie at 11:10:21 | Permalink | No Comments »