Chapter Forty

What my chickens have taught me....
































It doesn't matter who or what came first, it's the here and now that counts.



If you peck away at something big it eventually goes away.



Creating something is really worthwhile, start out small and it will get bigger and better.



If you do something everyday it becomes a habit and those around you will expect it.



It is possible to get clean in dirt.



What others have only appears to be better than what you have, because they are running with it.



Scratching at the surface can reap rewards.

When you are five.........


Singing in the morning is important.

Milky is not cow's milk or rice milk, it's Milo warmed up.

Cuddles in Mummy and Daddy's bed are the only way to start the day.

Wet kisses are yuck.

Rice bubbles that aren't soggy are breakfast.

Fairies are real and help make the seasons change, gardens grow and they make furniture out of all the old teeth.

Cake should only be chocolate flavoured.


Teddies and babies have real feelings, so need to be dressed.

Ballet is grace and beauty.

Mermaids are real, definitely. One was seen in a parade.

Being sick is snot in your mouth.

You show your friends the ribbons in your hair.

At school you can have a carrot for fruit because there is an 'other' list.

Being a carrot in the end of year ballet concert is great as its going to be glittery.

Running is fun.

Crusts should be cut off.

School is serious, homework must be done every night.

Painting is what you want to do or crafting, or sewing, or colouring, or cutting, or folding.

Putting your lunch box in the sink after school is way too much to ask.

Being a Doctor, famous Ballerina or a Kindy teacher is the plan.

Your clothes should match.

Playing is putting all your toys all over the floor where you can see them.

Pasta is best for dinner.

White chocolate is nibbled and licked.

Cuddling something at night is necessary.


Happy Birthday Little Miss

When Little Miss was at Kindy she got to experience the hatching of eggs and cute little fluffy chicks. This was a wonderful learning exercise that B also showed a lot of interest in. But little chicks quickly turn into big feathered birds that need more space so the kindy had the task of rehousing the chicks into the wider kindy community. We ended up with four of them.



Rosie - happy to follow the group, is always last to join in


























Snowy - very friendly, loves a cuddle and pet so much that closes eyes with pleasure



























Jessica - also known as Jumping Jessica, as will jump up to peck leaves in pot plants




























and Cupcake, bold, brave, inquisitive and friendly. Will investigate your buttons and shoelaces.



























Everything went swimmingly at first. The chickens lived in their borrowed Kindy run during the daytime and came inside with a heat lamp at night. Yes it was a bit messy and quite smelly, but all that was solved a few weeks later with a homemade chicken coup.

Things got really interesting when Cupcake, Snowy and Jessica decided to fight. B particularly hated the fights and would say, "Mum you have to do something!" But chickens like to sort out the pecking order, so there wasn't much I could do.

It was when the crowing started that I really had to step in. Semaphore Fodder deserve a plug as they  took our Snowy, Jessica and Cupcake into their rooster wing and gave us Princess in return. It was a very sad day to say goodbye to the boys.

B and Snowy having their last cuddle




However Rosie seems much happier now (is always first for the treats) and Princess and her can start to think about eggs.































Its been an emotional roller-coaster, but I can highly recommend chickens as pets.

She counted down the days, said she felt happy, scared and excited all at the same time. Playing schools with her brother she dressed up in her uniform, even wore her school headband to bed.

So when the big day arrived and she said she only felt happy. I was relieved for her, but more than a little concerned as her voice was rough, scratchy and soft. She had a cough and said she was sick.

Children's paracetamol went down the hatch. I recommended just a half school day and she agreed. She couldn't miss her first day of school.

There seemed to be more adults than children in the classroom. Her teacher said hello to her and her buddy led her away to her seat. I made the arrangement to pick her up at 12 noon. Little Miss looked about her wide eyed. I pinned her name tag on her. She touched a laminated chart in front of her. Her name was amongst the information it held with the days of the week, the alphabet, left and right and lots of sight words. The teacher took control of the room announcing that it was time to go to prayer. Then I watched helplessly as Little Miss lined up, holding the hand of her buddy and walked away.

I kept it together. The lump in my throat threatened my composure. Her Dad looked teary, we rushed our goodbye and then I followed Little Miss's class to the church. Watching her chat and walk confidently away from me I felt proud. That thread that held us together was still intact, just being pulled and stretched to a new length. A length I wasn't sure I was really comfortable with yet.

In the church the children lined the pews, their uniforms making them one. I couldn't distinguish B or Little Miss from any other child. But I could see her teacher. I wondered how on earth one teacher could ever look after so many children all at the same time, maintaining order while learning about the characteristic of each little person entrusted to them. As the assistant principle lead the school in prayer and song, I made my own wish, just to keep her safe.

Being the occasion that is was, the new reception children were asked to come to the front of the church and be introduced to the school. These were the special new children, who we would all need to take care of. Then I saw her, holding her teacher's hand. As her name was called out for the whole school to hear she raised her hand confidently. I made some kind of noise and had to swallow that lump.

Prayer finished, the children filed back to their classrooms. I managed a swift, "Have a great day see you at 12" as she rushed past me. Walking alone back to my car the lump was back. It grew and I let it.

I welcomed 12 o'clock and signed myself into the school. She noticed me at the classroom door and gave me a disappointed look. The teacher told her I was here to collect her and I added, "Only if she wants to come." And Little Miss in a big clear voice told everyone, "I want to stay at school." Her declaration made me so proud, relieved that school was enjoyable to her and she wasn't sick anymore, but at the same time I felt devastated. Why does every achievement and passing milestone in her life, take me for six and leave a hole that she used to fill. Well at 3 o'clock she wont have any choice in the matter, how I long for 3 o'clock.

For the last eight years my life has revolved around the children. From those first shocking 6 weeks with a new baby B till this day I have had a child holding my hand everyday. I've been there to answer to "Mummy" and considered their every need. Holding their hands I feel so proud, I have been able to lead them forward, guide them through obstacles and their trust lies in me. As she now holds the hand of others, her trust widens, she will be influenced and led differently and she will be all the richer for it. My hands will still be held, just not so much. So now with both my children at school, the hours between 9am and 3pm offer me respite, freedom and a chance to be someone other than Mummy. But who will that be?

Take a couple of plain white plates, some children on winter school holidays and add a collection of sharpies.








Then bake in the oven for 30 minutes at 175 degrees. (The plates not the children)


Finished result

























































A permanent work of art to eat dinner off of, or to give away as a gift, or keepsake from their precious childhood. I have found the plates to be dishwasher proof on the top shelf, and the children to be very proud of themselves.

Even before I had a daughter I imagined taking her out to a cafe, chatting over the days events and pondering life together over a coffee.


So as soon as she was able Little Miss and I have done just that.

At first she may have had her bottle or slept in a pram while I grabbed a coffee to recharge myself for that afternoon's dinner, bath, story, story, story, song song and song then finally bed routine.

But over her nearly five years Little Miss is now quite a cafe chick. She has moved on from babychinnos, "Which are really for babies Mummy." To partaking in hot chocolates. Now these can't just be any hot chocolates, they can't be too hot or too cold, they have to be just right and that includes coming with a marshmallow. But it has to be a pink marshmallow. If the hot chocolate comes without a marshmallow, well quite frankly we never return to that establishment....well at least she knows what she likes in life.

In my experience the best hot chocolates leave their own mark on Little Miss.




As these special mother and daughter times have left their mark on me. Soon to start school I will dreadfully miss Little Miss. Her company at cafe's and supermarket expeditions will be sorely missed.

How hatching baby chicks at Kindy has confused things.....

"Mummy when you laid B and I did it hurt?

After I stopped laughing I asked, "A little bit. Did you come in an egg?"

"No," Little Miss replied, "But I was an egg inside your tummy."

B reached a milestone in the last school holidays that makes me really happy and a little bit sad at the same time. He's riding a bike.

At eight it might be a bit late on his list of achievements, we haven't intentionally held him back. His late learning to ride has been a consequence of situation. Living in a house with no backyard close to busy roads then moving to a house on a hill. But over the holidays we stayed in the beach shack with its wide long driveway and safe esplanade bike path round the corner. B has been scooting for a while now so we hoped it wouldn't take too much, just so long as he would give it a try.


Getting kids to try new things can be tricky. They don't want to fail, so a lot of encouragement is needed. With the new bike in the car we talked to him about practising something before its perfect. We told him stories of how we learnt to ride. Our embarrassing bike crashes that had me caught up in a rose bush and his father in a creek, complete with wet newspapers he was meant to be delivering. So when he came to trying out the bike and not getting it straight away he would know its a process.



But I need not have worried, whether it was the balancing practise on his scooter or his mature 8 years, he was riding that bike within an hour. As proud as we were I couldn't help feel like I had just lost a hold of him. Now he has his own method of transport, his own wheels.



After a big bike ride along the esplanade, I asked him, "Did you taste the freedom?"
B said, "No Mum you kept calling me back."

Gever Tully explains that to help children become creative and confident we should let them do several dangerous things. And I can't help but agree, but that doesn't mean I'm ready, just yet.

Thanks for passing this on to me Shiona

This is great advice,






































from here

I have this little sister Ruthie, she is small and very funny.

Ruthie lives on a lot of land and keeps alpacas.

This Easter she had the idea to have a family picnic under a tree in a faraway paddock.







































So we had to trek to the paddock.






























Past the alpacas





































































and up the hill































Where we picnicked by lying around and eating a lot of food



We played "bunny hop", which is Ruthie's Easter version of Kris Kringle only with Easter eggs (This is a game where you take turns to select a wrapped gift, but can choose an opened gift someone else has already selected, so it can get a bit playful) Thankfully the children did not end up in tears.




Full of the view, food and chocolate, we then we made the trek back again.



Now I have to admit I was not all that keen on the idea of trekking up the hill to the picnic spot. Lacking in adventure that day I just wanted to enjoy the warmth of the house and a comfy chair. I may have even been hoping for some rain to spoil the plans, naughty sister that I am.

But I have to admit how wrong I was. The effort was absolutely worth it, the fresh air, the exercise and the view altered my soggy mood, we all laughed about this crazy thing we were doing and it felt really good. So like most things in life the more you put in the more you get out.

Thank goodness I have a funny sister.