There should be a help line or a forum devoted to the mothers of all year 11 girls about to be presented at their Debutante Ball ..or maybe it's just me?
Today's the day and tonight's the night that months of planning and weeping and wailing ( me) come to fruition and my daughter will step into an elaborately crystalled white dress ( that looks very similar to a wedding dress) and become part of an ancient Victorian ...as in the state but perhaps the era...tradition of girls being presented to society. Tonight's society will consist of family, friends, teachers and an esteemed dignatory. According to the guidelines their dresses are to be modest in style ( oops!) , they must wear elbow length white gloves ( which I've learned come in either shiny or matt, ours are shiny) and these will cover her perfectly manicured nails.
To quote " dress cannot be backless, have a train, have high splits or plunging neckline" oops.
We are even given guidance on what colour of underwear should be worn...neutral in case you are wondering as white shows through in photos.
This whole rigmarole is all new to me. Number one child is a young man, number two child showed absolutely no interest in participating in such an event but there was never any doubt that number three child would be first in the queue to take part.
Applications were made months ago , nights were allocated 2 months ago to much consternation of us the 'Sunday night group' ( there was another event last night for the perhaps luckier Saturday night group who would have access to their usual hairdressers / make up people ...we are taking a leap of faith and heading out shortly to unknown salons.
She was fake tanned yesterday and to our amusement changed colour from peely wally to oh my , been anywhere nice on your holidays? Hair has been grown to accomodate the style she wants.
So, oh my goodness , my stress levels have reached a peak not reached for a while.
Hairdresser was running late then said " you need to show me the video of how to do this style" ...all Isla had was a photo and not too elaborate a style! So, hair done and then make up , girl was also running a bit late and then had to clean all her brushes from previous client ( who is also a debutante tonight) ...tick, tick , tick of my inner clock . Make up done, stunning , lovely , let's go...wait says make up girl, can I please take photos for my portfolio ? Me....thinking, .noooooooo, can I please just pay , we are in such a rush .
Every traffic light on way home was a red one, Isla had to paint her toe nails and put her jewellry on in the car . Then we had to get her into her dress and all 300 layers of netting sorted. By this time I'm starting to raise my voice. A gift for her partner ( who knew we had to do such a thing ? Not us until last week) still to be wrapped. Son bringing me the wrong coloured ribbon from my ribbon drawer ( I actually do have a ribbon drawer) Fiona's friend Selena sent to select a more suitable colour. Time for a quick photo session then Fiona and Selena hoisting her skirts aloft to avoid getting muddy.
Isla ensconced safely in the car , the destination not found on Sat Nav and just a bit more stress ....then we got to the pre deb destination. A family very kindly hosting 16 couples and their families for photo opportunity and a driveway long enough to accommodate stretch limos, stretch Hummers and a lovely black Mercedes for Isla and Adam...the red carpet rolled out for them. The strap on Isla's dress snapped and trying to find a mum with eyesight good enough to thread a needle was impossible! Anyway..problem solved , strap sewed on, photos taken around the pool ....girls chittering in the cold ( just as well they had their long gloves on then 😬)
So blinged up crutches , painkillers and spare plastic straps dropped off at a wonderfully decorated town hall and I'm sure we will have the most amazing evening with formal dancing and dinner.
I need a holiday ...oh wait....that's tomorrow!
.
Saturday, 25 June 2016
Sunday, 12 June 2016
Twenty one!
Facebook has sent my memories this morning ....basically along the lines of me being unbelieving that I was now the mother of a 16,17, 18, 19, 20 year old son ...each proclaiming I'm surely too young but the latter saying I'm hitting the bottle....the skincare bottle in protest!
Today I wake up to discover that I am the mother of a 21 year old son and as I've hirpled to the bathroom ( only a few steps as cottage is tiny) and looked in the mirror and realised that despite my efforts last night to lie as far away from feather pillow and quilt as possible it's not been far enough....the swelling should subside later and I won't believe I have a son that age .
( I have a feather allergy...cottage has a feather quilt and feather pillows...I brought my own pillow and luckily some extra inner granny blankets! Eyes are puffy, nose is blocked and lungs feel a bit wheezy!)
Twenty one years ago ( allowing for Australian time differences of course ...we will just stretch the celebrations out a bit) , we welcomed our son into the world. As soon as I was pregnant ( and all the way through the next 9 months and an extra 10 days of vomiting) I knew I was having a boy. Just knew. We did have a name for a girl on standby but I just always felt I was having a boy.
He was 10 days late ( I do not do late , I'm usually overly punctual ....so was distressed by his tardiness ) , he was round the wrong way , he was in distress and then he was ours. After months of eating oranges, drinking Irn Bru and then litres of Gaviscon he was finally ours... after 9 months of visiting the antenatal ward as a patient ( a few pregnancy related problems along the way) I finally got to be on the postnatal ward with my boy, swaddled in a hospital blanket and the proudest daddy ever by my side....the photos show the biggest, beaming smiled daddy ever and the most knackered looking mummy ever!
Three days later we took our baby home and that's when reality of a newborn starts . 1995 was a nice summer and I think we soon got into a routine ...it's not easy being a new mum, a tiny baby is such a responsibility but we obviously got there! A year later we had moved into a bigger house as we had another baby on the way and I couldn't imagine that I could share the love I felt for one but you do ( and as I know she will read this 💜 you don't share it, it doubles) , so within 17 months we had 2 babies, one walking (just) and very much talking and one newborn. I didn't drive at the time, I had a big silver cross pram that I hoisted a young boy on the top seat and off we went walking through country lanes every day just to get out. We read, we sang , we danced in our front lounge, we baked , we laughed ...I think we are still doing all those things. Maybe we need to dance more!
Then the following year we moved back to the town Scott and I grew up in and another new house. We would have daily walks down to our woods and castle, still reading and singing and dancing. I think painting and crafty stuff had been added to the repertoire. Play dates had also begun in earnest. Sand and Water group, toddlers, playgroup , nursery then another baby due in our family and then there were 5 ...and that's how we stayed. A family of 5, the five of us. One smily baby, one shy but oh so funny little girl and one boy , who liked to wear a hat and knew all there was to know about everything and a teller of silly jokes.
Then we had a daddy who had started a new job and then was promoted again and then again and I gave up my very part time, part time job of nursing once a fortnight and then the daddy started working away , a day here, a week there and we would all be excited for the daddy coming home,
We moved house again , our forever home. The daddy was working away even longer but would phone at odd times of the day ...usually when he got in as we were trying to get out....he would come home a hero with gifts and tales of faraway lands.
Then we all moved to a faraway land, to be our family of five again , to be together everyday. This was at the cost of leaving friends and family behind, of not having them with us for family events, occasions. But to be together as our family of five is everything to me. I am so fulfilled being a mother , that's a very personal statement to me. I don't write it out of smugness or self importance , I write it out of truth. I love being my children's mother , a journey that started 21 years ago today.
I know that at times it has been an easier journey at times than at others but always a journey filled with love ...the occasional swear word and a great deal of laughter!
Happiest of birthdays to my boy, who 21 years on still needs fed at regular intervals, thank you for being my son, for going bravely into the world, for going on adventures that your mother will never be brave enough to do, be safe on that bike and watch out for snakes!
Today I wake up to discover that I am the mother of a 21 year old son and as I've hirpled to the bathroom ( only a few steps as cottage is tiny) and looked in the mirror and realised that despite my efforts last night to lie as far away from feather pillow and quilt as possible it's not been far enough....the swelling should subside later and I won't believe I have a son that age .
( I have a feather allergy...cottage has a feather quilt and feather pillows...I brought my own pillow and luckily some extra inner granny blankets! Eyes are puffy, nose is blocked and lungs feel a bit wheezy!)
Twenty one years ago ( allowing for Australian time differences of course ...we will just stretch the celebrations out a bit) , we welcomed our son into the world. As soon as I was pregnant ( and all the way through the next 9 months and an extra 10 days of vomiting) I knew I was having a boy. Just knew. We did have a name for a girl on standby but I just always felt I was having a boy.
He was 10 days late ( I do not do late , I'm usually overly punctual ....so was distressed by his tardiness ) , he was round the wrong way , he was in distress and then he was ours. After months of eating oranges, drinking Irn Bru and then litres of Gaviscon he was finally ours... after 9 months of visiting the antenatal ward as a patient ( a few pregnancy related problems along the way) I finally got to be on the postnatal ward with my boy, swaddled in a hospital blanket and the proudest daddy ever by my side....the photos show the biggest, beaming smiled daddy ever and the most knackered looking mummy ever!
Three days later we took our baby home and that's when reality of a newborn starts . 1995 was a nice summer and I think we soon got into a routine ...it's not easy being a new mum, a tiny baby is such a responsibility but we obviously got there! A year later we had moved into a bigger house as we had another baby on the way and I couldn't imagine that I could share the love I felt for one but you do ( and as I know she will read this 💜 you don't share it, it doubles) , so within 17 months we had 2 babies, one walking (just) and very much talking and one newborn. I didn't drive at the time, I had a big silver cross pram that I hoisted a young boy on the top seat and off we went walking through country lanes every day just to get out. We read, we sang , we danced in our front lounge, we baked , we laughed ...I think we are still doing all those things. Maybe we need to dance more!
Then the following year we moved back to the town Scott and I grew up in and another new house. We would have daily walks down to our woods and castle, still reading and singing and dancing. I think painting and crafty stuff had been added to the repertoire. Play dates had also begun in earnest. Sand and Water group, toddlers, playgroup , nursery then another baby due in our family and then there were 5 ...and that's how we stayed. A family of 5, the five of us. One smily baby, one shy but oh so funny little girl and one boy , who liked to wear a hat and knew all there was to know about everything and a teller of silly jokes.
Then we had a daddy who had started a new job and then was promoted again and then again and I gave up my very part time, part time job of nursing once a fortnight and then the daddy started working away , a day here, a week there and we would all be excited for the daddy coming home,
We moved house again , our forever home. The daddy was working away even longer but would phone at odd times of the day ...usually when he got in as we were trying to get out....he would come home a hero with gifts and tales of faraway lands.
Then we all moved to a faraway land, to be our family of five again , to be together everyday. This was at the cost of leaving friends and family behind, of not having them with us for family events, occasions. But to be together as our family of five is everything to me. I am so fulfilled being a mother , that's a very personal statement to me. I don't write it out of smugness or self importance , I write it out of truth. I love being my children's mother , a journey that started 21 years ago today.
I know that at times it has been an easier journey at times than at others but always a journey filled with love ...the occasional swear word and a great deal of laughter!
Happiest of birthdays to my boy, who 21 years on still needs fed at regular intervals, thank you for being my son, for going bravely into the world, for going on adventures that your mother will never be brave enough to do, be safe on that bike and watch out for snakes!
Saturday, 11 June 2016
One year on...
This same Saturday last year was my son's 20th birthday , I woke up at my usual time of early o'clock ( anytime between 4-5am) and was making an birthday cake in the kitchen ( probably with a big dog right under my feet) and I was heartbroken. I did not know if Scott would be here for Ru's 21st birthday and the thought of this was just so unbearable but it was a real concern at the time. I sobbed and sobbed and howled and howled and probably dripped tears into cake mix ( not snots though )
This morning , one whole year on, at early o'clock I packed a bag or seven , as usual Haggis dog was under my feet , he was following me everywhere I went and eyeing up the cake that was getting packed for pudding tonight ( thankyou Fiona for baking and Isla for icing )
We have travelled a few hours upstate to a stunning part of the country in the Pyrenees , where hill after hill just rolls onwards, where autumn colours are still to be found but lots of bare winter trees along side eucalyptus trees abound.
Whilst I've packed for every eventuality , my son has packed very minimally! We arrived at a very tiny but perfectly proportioned cottage on the grounds of a winery. With a car emptied ( brand new car that was shiny and black when we left a very rainy Melbourne ....now more brown than black! ) and a bowl of home made lentil soup inside us, Ru and Ben set off on their bikes. The winery has mountain bike tracks and the owner a keen cyclist , so off they went . We sat on the verandah , enjoying the silence, the views of kangaroos on the top of a nearby hill when all of a sudden they ran down the hill, into our 'garden' paddock , just metres from us . Then they jumped over the fence ( but one wee roo got his leg stuck in the wire....thought I was going to have to administer first aid to a kangaroo but it sorted itself) . It is beyond thrilling to be so near to these fabulous animals. I love them.
We went out for a brisk walk in the chilly but fresh air , the only sounds were the wind rustling through the eucalyptus leaves, kookaburras laughing and the occasional bang from a bird scarer on a nearby farm....apparently Jack had ( literally!) just sown his oats and this was to stop the cockatoos eating the seeds....#countrysideproblems. We surprised a big grey kangaroo who hopped off then watched us watching him then hopped off again. The views are stunning and just go on and on as far as you can see.
Brisk walk back and sat for another wee while on verandah until it got too cool / too mosquito-y.
Then inside our tiny little home and enjoyed dinner of chilli, rice and salad. I am so thankful that one year on I am spending it with my husband and my son, that my tears of last year just fell in a cake .
Living , loving and always laughing .
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