Treasure Island

Treasure Island,

X marks the spot.

DAGGER IN THE BACK!

Blood running up,

Blood running down.

Blood running up,

Blood running down.

Crack of an egg!

(Spiders and bees).

Cool breeze?

[Whisper]: Tight squeeze.

{From my bloodthirsty childhood, to theirs. What was your favourite game?}

The easiest party you will ever throw

One word (or is it two?): ice-cream. On a big table, stack up a few tubs of the most delicious ice-cream you can find. Mine was my very own bespoke flavour from Harry's Ice Cream Co, just around the corner in Brunswick: cinnamon doughnut and maple syrup (I know!!). More about that later.

Fill vintage tea-cups with a whole lot of toppings. Anything you like. I used hundreds and thousands, crushed Oreos and crushed Flakes, broken waffle cones, marshmallows, maple syrup, caramel sauce and chocolate sauce. Plonk some cute disposable ice-cream cups and spoons on the table. Invite your friends over, switch on the music, pop a bottle of champagne, and you're at a party!

Did you know that July is the International Ice Cream Month? This started in the US circa 1984, apparently at the behest of President Ronald Reagan, who called on all citizens to observe ice cream events with "appropriate ceremonies and activities." Fast forward 30 years and Harry's Ice Cream Co contacted me a little while ago to see if I'd like a few tubs of my very own flavour, to help celebrate a tradition of eating frozen confectionaries during the coldest month of the year. Darn tootin' I did!

In the name of responsible research I turned to Facebook, asking my friends to help me come up with winter-friendly flavours. A "vegemite toast" joke from my brother-in-law led to thoughts of honey crumpets, then French toast or cinnamon toast which, in discussions with Harry's Ice Cream Co, eventually became cinnamon doughnut. And maple syrup swirl for good (really good) measure. Folks, there were actual chunks of doughnut in this ice-cream. It was SO tasty. Harry's delivered the ice-cream a few weeks ago but in a supreme act of self-control, I held onto it until the Saturday just gone, to use it in a baby shower for my friend Pip.

Like me, Pip has a little girl, and baby number two is a boy. Pip wasn't planning a baby shower, "because I feel a bit silly doing it for the second one, you know?" And I did know, because that's how I felt too. But I regretted it. Harry is worth celebrating every bit as much as Madeleine, and I really felt that in the chaos of life surrounding my own second pregnancy, I didn't get to mark his progress or his arrival with the kind of weight I'd have liked to have given it. I wrote a bit about that here and here. So we decided to at least do something for Pip. She wanted to keep it low-key, so we just invited a few of her friends over to my place to indulge in ice-cream and brainstorm boy's names (what are your favourites?), and generally celebrate that beautiful bump.

So, back to the world's most easy party. To make it just a bit more fancy for Pip and her friends, I added a few little extras. A stack of cinnamon doughnuts, a hot fruit salad to serve with cream, and some simple bowls of snacks like dried apricots and pistachio nuts. The decorations were kept very simple too. Pip wanted "something to do with elephants" so I painted up a circus elephant balancing on an ice-cream cone to use in the invitations I sent out to her friends, then replicated it in little details around the table. My only other decorative task was a big balloon wall to provide a back-drop to the party (positioned higher than I'd have liked it to to put the balloons out of reach of Madeleine).

Pip's friends were lovely, the whole party was incredibly easy, and the clean-up took less than half an hour. Have you ever tried an ice-cream party? I'm absolutely a convert. Last week I linked to this ice-cream crawl which I think is a great idea. I've also bookmarked this giant banana split as a fantastic idea for a kids' summer party. And these ridiculously decadent candy-vanilla milkshakes look much too good to pass up. What are your best ice-cream party ideas?

Thank you so much Harry's Ice Cream Co for giving us this amazing taste experience. They also sent me a gift voucher to cover the cost of some of the toppings. I'm sorry to say my cinnamon doughnut and maple syrup ice-cream was a one-time-only affair, but three of the flavours (pavlova, sticky date pudding and lamington) are available at Woolworths stores across Australia if you'd like to try them. I can attest to the fact that they are GOOD. So good that "I don't like ice-cream" Mr B had two helpings of the sticky-date pudding ice-cream for dessert the other night, and I had a bowl of the pavlova ice-cream (pieces of meringue included!) after dinner on Saturday, despite having spent the better part of the afternoon already consuming ice-cream!

ps. Please to be noticing my very own logo on those tubs of my 'bespoke' flavour in the photo near the top. So special!

Stuff and simplicity

At any given moment, if you were to pop around to our house unannounced, there would probably be piles of washing waiting to be folded and put away, overflowing the green chairs in our hallway. As you stepped over the plastic toys and pushed passed the jolly-jumper hanging from the door frame and waded through the various baby-bibs cultivating dribble and milk and browning banana and finally made it to the playroom, your feet would probably crunch over a thick layer of dry Weetbix crumbs. Madeleine likes to crush her own Weetbix each morning before the milk goes on and, as much as I'd like you to think otherwise, I do not vacuum every day.

If you looked inside my handbag on any given day you might find, nestled in with the purse and keys, a couple of broken crayons, a half-empty container of bubble liquid, a sippy cup, yesterday's gummed-up rusk in a zip-lock bag, and about a thousand used tissues.

The sheer amount of stuff involved in modern parenting staggers me, and accepting at least some of that stuff into my life and home was one of the most difficult transitions I had to make as a parent. (When I lived alone, I would actually take pleasure in adjusting a book on a table until the seemingly 'casually-put-down' angle was just right. Yes, I am that person.) As someone who likes everything to have a purpose and a place, and as someone whose home is also her workplace, cumulative kid-detritus can quickly feel overwhelming.

While I was pregnant with Madeleine I had plenty of noble ideas about children in "the olden days" not needing all the STUFF that our consumer society deemed necessary today, and that I would make up in interactive play for what we limited in toys and things. But as any parent could have told me, stuff creeps in. And some of it, while not strictly necessary, does actually make your life easier. Parenting two small children while working, and on extremely limited sleep, is tough. It is tempting to take the easy way, to let the stuff in because it saves five minutes here or buys 10 minutes of peace there. I'm not going to feel guilty about that.

But not all stuff makes life easier. Some stuff just gets in the way. In the way of creativity, of clear-thinking, of mental health, of the path to the kitchen. And some stuff might be good stuff but when combined with about a billion other small pieces of "good stuff" it becomes bad stuff. Claustrophobic, messy, over-crowding, unwelcome stuff.

Last week was not a good week around our place. For various reasons were were all stretched, capacity-wise, and tempers began to fray. By Friday afternoon, my subconscious had somehow centred the entirety of my own unravelling temper on all the stuff in our house. It was driving me crazy. WE HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF I CAN'T BREATHE IN THIS HOUSE. And so I started on a paring-back rampage.

It was cathartic in a way that probably should have been predictable. I worked until late that night on the playroom, sorting out toys to give away or throw away, putting some in a cupboard out of rotation, and bringing others out. At the end of it I'd removed two giant garbage-bags worth of toys and other bits and pieces from the room, and Madeleine's previously overflowing toy-box was only one third full. When she came down in the morning, she was thrilled. There were her favourite toys, easy to find. Here were some "new" toys she'd never discovered because they'd been buried under all that stuff. Harry had his own little cart in which to store his toys, and Madeleine quickly cottoned on to putting Harry's toys away whenever they were dropped.

That afternoon, Madeleine lined up her two dolls in chairs next to Harry, pulled a collection of books from the shelves, and proceeded to "read" to all three babies. I hid in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea while leaning on the bench, and listened to the stories. Later we pulled out the paints, one of Madeleine's favourite activities, and it was approximately 78 percent less stressful than usual for me because with the room so much cleaner and more organised, the combination of two-year-old and brightly coloured paints didn't seem anywhere near as chaotic.

Not once did she ask where all her stuff had gone.

Lump

Do you want to start your day off really well? Listen to this. [soundcloud url="https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/157912833" params="auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%" height="450" iframe="true" /]

Is there any sound in the world better than a baby laughing? It is right up there with a cat purring and the tea being poured. Probably better than both, which is saying something special.

Sometimes when I am in the middle of my everyday, just going about my business of feeding children and dressing children and changing nappies and kissing scraped knees and bringing out the craft paint and putting away the craft paint and changing the children's clothes and washing the paint-covered clothes and finding the lost toy and finding the other lost toy and feeding the children again and reading stories and playing chasings and playing hide 'n seek and changing more nappies and supervising 'sharing' and, and, and...

... Sometimes in the middle of all that I will get a lump in my throat so large I can barely swallow.

It happened to me yesterday as I was carrying Madeleine upstairs for her afternoon nap. She wrapped both arms around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder. "Just a little nap, Mummy," she reminded me. And there was the big fat lump, blocking my words, making my eyes swim.

It is in ordinary moments like these that I am reminded of just how extraordinarily lucky I am to have Madeleine and Harry in my life. And how narrowly I missed out on having them, if I hadn't changed my mind about having children until after it was too late. The thought that they almost weren't here leaves me breathless.

Girly is as girly does

Did you play with dolls as a child? I was never all that much interested. My best friend Sam and I preferred instead to wrap bandages around the limbs of our soft-toy animal collections, and Sam's ET doll, as practice for becoming vets.* But already I can see Madeleine taking more pleasure in dolls than I ever did. She uses them for role-play, mimicking the mother-like actions that she sees in me, as she cares for her own little "Baby Suzy." Madeleine and her Daddy Pig doll go to work together. "Busy Mummy, very busy," she informs me with weighty authority. Then later she'll put Daddy Pig in the little toy pram and announce that they are off to the tea house together.

When you are the mother of a girl, dolls can be a fraught subject. Once considered a simple and innocent pastime, it seems dolls these days are loaded with gender stereotypes and social politics, and carry the weight of a girl's future profession and confidence and self-worth on their often all-too-bony shoulders. But what can you do about it? The fact remains that a lot of girls (and a good number of boys) simply like playing with dolls.

That's why I love the ideas behind emerging company Girly Girl Doll Company so much. They recognise that children like to play with dolls, and that some little girls want to be princesses. There's nothing wrong with that, they say. Let a girl dream. BUT let's show her how to dream even bigger! Give her options, broaden her horizons, encourage her to explore and play and innovate, and teach her empathy and compassion for others.

I can see this being fantastic for Madeleine. Because I really don't want Barbie to be her role model. But at least right now, Madeleine has zero interest in super heroes. If I tried to interest her in a superhero doll, male or female, she'd be unlikely to go for it. She's just not a lycra-lovin' two-year-old. The girl likes pink, and the girl likes tutus, what are you gonna do? Show her that pink-tutu-wearing girls can do great things and have great adventures too, that's what!

The concept behind Girly Girl Dolls is that children can customise a doll of their own, choosing hair and eye and skin colour etc, letting their natural creativity take the lead. A portion of proceeds from every doll sold is donated to girleffect.org, an international movement working to include adolescent girls in education, health and economic investment. In addition, any accessories purchased for the doll will have a corresponding social mission. So clothes purchased for a doll will also be used to fund donations to international orphanages. A medical kit for a doll will help fund medical care in at-risk areas around the world.

Girly Girl Dolls are part physical product and part interactive experience. After the child customises the physical doll to make it their own, a series of interactive apps and accessories guide them through a labyrinth of experiences, meeting other characters from other cultures along the way.

Don't you think this is a lovely concept? It takes the focus away from looks and turns it, instead, onto adventure and imagination and empathy. Because tomboys are not the antidote to princesses. Little girls (and little boys) should be allowed to be either, or both, or anything in between. But let's bring up tomboys and princesses who are globally aware, creative, bold, adventurous and compassionate.

If you'd like to get behind this idea, Girly Girls is running a crowd-funding campaign right now in which you can reserve a limited edition (one of 500) doll for just $1. Ultimately the cost will be $125. Take a look around their website to learn more.

* In case you're thinking play has no relationship to a child's future choices, Sam actually did become a vet.

Subdued, happy

Subdued but happy describes the mood around here today. We are all in post-party fallout mode, after Madeleine had not one but two big birthday parties in a row on the weekend, followed by another mini-party this morning since it was her actual birthday and her Nanna and Pa were leaving to go back to Sydney.

I am still trying to come to terms with what this milestone means to me, as a mother. If you follow me on Instagram, you'll see I wrote a little mini-blog-post about it to go with the photo above, last night.

More about that later. While I gather my thoughts - and energies and emotions - here are some gentle things you can do the next time you are in the same kind of subdued-but-happy mood.

1. Subscribe to Peeky Me, a craft-with-your-kids post-subscription service with a project, materials and instructions in every box (seen via Sunday Collector)

2. Hang a painting in your home. I love these bluebird woodcut sculptures so much. Like the modern home's trio of ducks (seen via Swiss Miss)

3. Switch out processed sugar for fruit. We have eaten our own weights in sugar this weekend. And I had to make and decorate TWO cakes and both of them lacked... well... most of what you'd want in a birthday cake. I suppose it's a parenting rite of passage to botch the novelty birthday cake. Next time, this cake!

4. Join Pippit, a new app-driven social media platform that's kind of like Instagram and Pinterest and blogs all rolled into one. You can just follow along what other people are creating, or share your own (blogs, photos, whatever). If you want to find me, my username is naomibulger

5. Share something with somebody who wants the stuff you no longer want or need

6. Reorganise a space in your home. I always feel better and clearer-of-head when I remove the clutter and find a place for everything. I kind of like this idea, but then, I wonder if it would just end up becoming a dumping ground in our house

7. Tell the world anything

8. Read something funny and lovely and completely pointless, just for fun. Like this (I actually related to kind of 'urban mystery' experience, it happens to me all the time. Usually without the resolution)

9. Kick-start your creativity. This Inspiration Information online course with Pip Lincolne (of Meet Me at Mikes) starts today. You can still join. We are on a post-party budget so I can't do it this time around, but it is on the top of my wish list for the coming months

10. Get a pot plant. This hanging succulent garden is calling my name but in the meantime, a humble pot plant would make me quite happy

11. Paint your own happy faces on wooden spoons

12. This Book Was a Tree looks amazing. I really want to get it and use it with my children. Have you read it?

Kindness

I've been thinking about kindness lately, and how much of it is conscious, and how much of it is innate. What do you think about this? I believe some people have a talent for kindness: being thoughtful and generous is their natural default. I married someone like that. Mr B is generous beyond anyone I have ever met, and I get to witness this every day. A long time ago I told this little story about Mr B and the simple kindnesses by which he marks his days. These events are not even remotely unusual in life with my husband.

So here's what I am thinking about. There is a lot of noise out in the world about the tiny dictatorship that is the toddler attitude, and I'm no stranger to what that means. On any given day, I can be screamed at because the mandarin didn't stay in one piece after we peeled it, or because I didn't wash and dry the Peppa Pig top in time for Madeleine to wear it an hour after she spilled food on it, or because I lifted her off the swing after only 40 minutes of pushing.

Recently Mr B bought me a copy of the Reasons My Kid is Crying book and it really did make us laugh. The poor little tot on the cover is heartbroken because somebody broke his cheese in half. Madeleine has actually made that same face over an identical tragic dairy-related event.

But do you know what? As any parent, or guardian, or aunty or uncle or grandparent or friend or babysitter or big brother or sister or anyone else who spends big chunks of time with a toddler could attest, these little people have a natural tendency for love, and affection and, yes, kindness and even thoughtfulness.

Sometimes when I am so tired that for a moment I just have to put my palms over my eyes and press, hard, to stop the pain from exploding out of my temples, Madeleine places her own sticky palms over my hands. "Hi Mummy," she will softly say, with a smile.

"Poor Harry," Madeleine will announce, when Harry is crying. Then she will run over to him and make the funny noise that only she can make that always makes him laugh, or do a little dance for him, or give him a toy (or six). Then she will run to me and report back. "Harry waa waa! Me la-la-la. Me toy." And I'll say "Thank you for helping, is he happy now?" She will beam. "Yes!"

Like most toddlers, Madeleine loves to help. She wipes down her little table after eating, she helps me load the washing into the dryer, she holds doors and gates open for me when I'm pushing the pram (that is actually genuinely helpful), and she even 'helps' lift the pram up the steps and into our house. When she asks for apple and I give it to her, she says "Day doo (thank you) Mummy!" in a happy singsong voice, unprompted. It melts my heart every time.

In quiet moments, Madeleine strokes my hair, or kisses me, or snuggles into me just because... love.

When she is kind to me, or her brother, or a little friend, I make a big deal with the recognition and the praise. Because her kindness, her generosity of spirit, it's all there. I believe it is innate in Madeleine, as it is in all of us. Terrible Twos and Tiny Dictators and tantrums and sharing lessons not-yet-learned... they are all there too. But there is enough noise about those things in the world.

I don't believe in the concept of original sin. I believe in original kindness. Original love. Original affection. Yes yes, and original want, and original selfishness, and original... I don't know... frustration! I guess I believe in original humanity. And I am proud, oh so proud, of the kind and thoughtful little humans that my children are today, as well as the big humans that they are to become.

Madeleine's diary - the Easter edition

Day 1, Good Friday 7am: Have woken up thinking about my sister Emily. Daddy said she would be here when I woke up. Must go check. Need to get out of this cot pronto. Mummmy! MUMMMMYYYY!

7:03am: Mummy, you took ages to get here. Is Emmy here? She is? Hooray! She got in at 2am? Well then I imagine she will be ready to play by now. I'll just run down to her bedroom and check. Emmmy! EMMMMYYYYY!

7:06am: I'm a bit over playing the "let's pretend to sleep" game, Emmy. Think I will eat some breakfast instead. Is it Chocolate Egg Day yet? Mummmy? MUMMMMYYYY!

7:07am: Oh listen to that, Harry's awake. I wonder who woke him up.

10:30am: We are going for a walk in the RAIN. This is very exciting. I will wear my rain coat. NOBODY HELP ME I WANT TO CARRY THE UMBRELLA ALL BY MYSELF. Why are complete strangers ducking and weaving away from me?

2:30pm: Hot cross buns are my favourite.

4pm: We are painting eggs. RED! I WANT RED PAINT! Wait, Daddy has blue. That's it, BLUE! I WANT BLUE! Emmy, what colour do you have? Green? THAT'S THE ONE I WANT. I WANT GREEN. Mummy, stop trying to help, I can do it myself.

3.15pm: THERE IS GREEN PAINT ON MY HAND HELP HELP GET IT OFF GET IT OFFFFFFF.

Day 2, Saturday

12pm: Grace and Kiera are here and we are having an Easter Egg hunt. I don't know what that means but I am VERY EXCITED. Aaaaargh this is very excellent, I am going to run as fast as I can on the spot and yell "yeah." YEAH.

12:05pm: We are in the courtyard. There are chocolate eggs here. OH MY GOODNESS THERE ARE CHOCOLATE EGGS EVERYWHERE IN THE COURTYARD I KEEP FINDING THEM EVERYWHERE I LOOK THIS IS THE BEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

12:07pm: FRENZY! FRENZY!

12:10pm: Chocolate Easter eggs are my favourite.

12:11pm - 3:30pm: Chocolate, toys, games, friends. Grace is 11 and she lets me boss and drag her around everywhere I think I will kiss her. Lunch, toys, games, friends. I will drag Grace into the hall and make her pretend to be a puppy with me. Peppa Pig! I SKIPPED MY NAP. BAHAHAHA. Dessert, toys, games, friends. Grace is tired, I wonder why? I will sit on her lap and call her mummy. Chocolate!

4:05pm: I am feeling a little bit delirious. Think I will do a spot of spinning in the lounge room in front of all my friends. I keep falling over. I don't care. Delirious! Frenzy! Frenzy!

Day 3, Easter Sunday

7:03am: CHOCOLATEEEEEEE. The Easter Bunny left chocolate in my bedroom! I am so happy. This is the best morning of my life.

7:08am: WHYYYYYYYY? Why can't I eat my chocolate for breakfast? This is the worst morning of my life.

10:20am: We are walking so that Harry can sleep in the pram and Mummy can get coffee. Why does she always say she needs coffee? I don't understand.

12pm: Mummy and Daddy found the Taco Truck, I found a park with swings and a slide. Harry is still asleep. We are all very happy.

12:03pm: Oh look! I found more Easter Eggs hidden at the bottom of the slippery slide! Hooray!

12:04pm: WHYYYYYYY? Why can't I eat food I randomly found on the ground of a deserted and slightly derelict-looking park?

2:30pm: I'm not even tired I definitely don't need a nap. Oh wow, Daddy is cuddling me on Mummy and Daddy's bed! This is so much fun. Daddy wants to sleep but I will never sleep. I am going to play and make him laugh, it will be so much fu-- zzzzzzzzzz.

4:30pm: Mummy why are you waking us up? I don't want to get up. Ooh a bottle! I will let you give that to me and read me a story while I drink it, if it makes you happy.

6pm: We are going out for a night-time picnic. And Emmy is coming too. This is CRAZY good. We are outside, walking, and it's dark! I can't believe my eyes! It's dark! I must keep reminding Mummy how amazing this is. I will say "Night night!" every few seconds, to make sure she doesn't forget. Now I will tell Emmy "Night night" too, in case she hadn't realised.

6:20pm: The park! The park! I love the park, and now we are in the park. At NIGHT. The park, at NIGHT! Wowwwwww!

7:01pm: We are on our way home. In the dark. At NIGHT. In the dark. We have been in the park. At NIGHT. This is the best night ever. I am never going to sleep again.

ps. Madeleine's previous diary entry

Laughter

We all need it. Sometimes we really, REALLY need it. I needed it this week. The past few days have been, well... awful. Some pretty horrible stuff has been going down. Anyway, WE WILL ALL BE OK. Which is why it's definitely not as bad as all that, you know? And last night, I took a little break from it all. A friend and I went out to see Three Stuffed Mums, as part of the Melbourne Comedy Festival. There's nothing quite like a good belly-laugh with The Sisterhood, as we bond over those toddler Abs of Steel that appear when you're trying to wrestle them into a pram or car seat; or the fact that the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end when walking past a teenager's room because of all the static generated by their numerous electrical devices (not to mention the funky smell); or the sad reality that after performing the miracle of pregnancy, childbirth and often breastfeeding, most of our body parts now seem to want to head south.

I'm really grateful to these funny mums for comping me the tickets because not only was the show a great laugh and very close to home, it was also such a treat just to get out at night! It's so rare that I do, I'm always mildly surprised to see everyone else out and about and enjoying the evening, just as though it's a normal thing to do. I keep forgetting. This novelty was so profound that it wasn't even ruined by the fact that after getting all dressed up (read: put on lippy, swap flip-flops for heels and unearth a jacket without have spit-up on it), I couldn't find my umbrella so I had to walk down the street carrying Madeleine's miniature, multicoloured and spotty number to keep off the rain.

If you want to go see these mums and laugh along with them (and me), you can get your tickets here.

(Photo is an old one of me with two of my dearest girlfriends. It makes me so happy to look at this.)

The calm

Today my children and I went for a walk in the park. That is all it was. No drama, no grand and creative ideas. No picnics no bubbles no balls no pigeon-chasing. Harry was awake, but not crying. He wasn't doing his usual laughing, either. He relaxed in his pram, blue eyes looking into grey sky - and sometimes across at me - taking it all in. Madeleine held my hand the entire time. No running off and asking to be chased, or pretending to be a dog, not even twirling. She just wanted to walk beside me, hand in hand, while we looked at the park. So that's what we did. When we came to a fountain I crouched beside her to point out its features (highly educational comments, like "Can you see the mer-people holding up that heavy platform?" and "Oh look, those children are nudie-rudy just like you in the bath"). Madeleine squatted beside me and gave the fountain her full attention, rolling her eyes and saying "Oh Mummy" at that last comment.

Harry watched the wind flirt with the still-green trees and said nothing.

We walked around the duck pond. At each new fountain, Madeleine pulled hard on my hand until we both crouched again and pondered the inscrutableness of sculptural water. Ducks traced water-lines through fallen leaves on the still pond, and it would all have felt very Zen if it wasn't for the soundtrack of an excited "Quack! Quack!" coming from the toddler attached to my left hand.

Harry watched three seagulls circle a fig tree and said nothing.

We stayed an hour in that park, just looking at fountains, looking at ducks, looking at seagulls, looking at trees. When I put Madeleine back into the pram and headed across the road into Gertrude Street, it was as though a spell had broken. The silence of our still and simple walk was torn apart. Madeleine began to grizzle. "Nom nom?" she asked, which was fair enough as it was well past her usual lunch time. Harry stopped watching the sky and fell asleep. We turned towards home.