Monthly Archives: September 2017

Unseasonable Taste of Summer

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No, no, no, I KNOW it’s not summer. But it sure felt like it this past weekend. Sunday we played at Rapaki beach and even dabbled in the actual ocean.  Of course we displaced dozens of crabs and scores of snails in digging out the warm pools as well.

It barely hit 20 degrees on Saturday, but Milo got all red in the face on our little port hills hike, and said it was “Too HOAT.” Little kiwi, he has no heat tolerance! We told him to toughen up or else he’ll melt come summer.

Jeremiah packed the barbie and we charred some sausies for lunch at Sign of the Kiwi, along Summit Rd. Did you know that flax sizzles and pops when grilled? Milo now does.

Troup is having a feed.  The roof was burned off the Sign of the Kiwi last year, but it’s fixed up just like new now.  Actually even better than new–the underneath is lined with metal, maybe making it more fireproof than before, but the old fireplace is blocked off. 

The ball’s ricochets are a little unpredictable off the stones, but Milo didn’t care.  

See that gorgeous trunk that looks like a crepe myrtle? It’s the fuchsia that is native to NZ.

I apologize for the out of focus picture….but this is vaguely what the fuchsia flowers look like. Not quite puffy ballerinas like the ornamental varieties, but recognizable nonetheless.

A slight stubborn streak

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We have about a tantrum a day with Naomi at this point. Often times it’s unpredictable what will set her off: Being made to do something she doesn’t want to do is the main theme, but 9 times out of 10 she’ll good-naturedly clear the car of her bric-a-brac after an outing, just not today. It was probably the fact that I told her she couldn’t come inside until she was carrying that purple sweater. Too much force, in her opinion.  It was an ultimatum, and I could see her jaw set. Thankfully we were home, so I went inside and made a batch of granola while she spent the next 45 minutes howling.

Some la-ti-da experts say you should never leave a kid to themselves when they tantrum, that you should stay where they can see you so they know you haven’t abandoned them. Hum, hope that’s working out for them. Needless to say, I don’t ascribe to that belief. I checked on her from time to time, but it’s not like I couldn’t hear exactly where she was. As could the neighbors. And their neighbors.

It really wasn’t short sleeve weather so she eventually decided to come inside and bang the broom on the door in consternation. Without the purple sweater, I might add. I guess she won that one. Milo came home, wanted a snack, and that little change of subject seemed to snap her out of it. She was giggling just a minute after his entrance, plotting peanut butter on banana with chocolate sprinkles.

I guess I understand to some degree.  I hate to be pushed around as well.  Nothing makes my hackles rise as much as someone lording their authority over me unnecessarily.  Eventually she’ll realize that being asked to pick up her sweater (asked nicely, I might add) doesn’t really require 45 minutes of high energy protestations–save that energy for more important battles.

Jeremiah was gracious enough to pronounce that she’s just like me.

Can we come in please?

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Can we come in please?

It’s a quintessentially New Zealand scene; cattle munching grass, next to a new world-class greenhouse (behind), in the city of Christchurch, second largest city in the country.

I don’t know if those calves were staring longingly at the relative shelter of the greenhouse or at the tasty plants inside, but they stood there watching us all morning.  They’re the owner’s “cattle beasts,” because if you own grass, then why would you not own sheep or cows to eat the grass?  Exactly.  So they do.  (Clearly, cow pies on the lawn aren’t a problem if you’re wearing your gum boots.)

What are those kids up to?

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Swimming lessons! With pink goggles, of course. I have bagged the impossible–simultaneous swimming lessons for both kiddos.
(By the bye, check out Naomi’s shirt. The movie Frozen has a cult following of little girls. Never mind that Naomi has never even seen the movie, she knows the theme song and the names of the princesses.)

Contack. It was a game I played with Poppop, my grandfather, and wanted to teach Milo. Jeremiah got the triangle pieces from China, I got the number stickers from America, and I painted them in New Zealand. Global trade, even in craft hobbies. And then Jeremiah found the genuine vintage game on e-bay for cheap….. Luckily Milo likes the game.

Cherry blossoms are starting–Spring! With the typical fickle weather I’d expect. It sleeted today. But the day we biked in Hagley park was lovely.

It was also lovely the day we went biking to McClean’s Island. The 10 km loop isn’t really a challenge for Milo, but last year Naomi found it difficult. This time around she did great. Didn’t whinge. Didn’t stop. I think this summer will be the summer of family bike trips.

Milo won the rugby player of the year award for his team, and boy, is he proud. I’m proud of him too. Like I’ve said before, it’s neat to see your kid do something he’s passionate about, and do it well. I’m going to give him a chance at soccer though, since with his genes (well, my short genes which he has inherited), he might not have as much fun with rugby when the tacklers get bigger.

It doesn’t get much better than spinning in a pink and purple frilly skirt worn over top a pink dress.  If you’re a three year old girl, that is.

And just in case it looks like our lives are too happy….here’s a taste of a tantrum. I spared you the video. The issue is that mommy required her to sit on the toilet and TRY to squeeze something out before bed. And she didn’t want to. And I told her she had to try before she could leave the bathroom. And she didn’t want to. Then she didn’t want to leave. Basically just didn’t want to do what I wanted her to do. Next time I might just risk the wet bed.