North Head

I’ve never been one to take much interest in military history and such things as strategic defence points, but my ‘new thing’ for the week was an exception. On Sunday we visited North Head, the second bump you can see jutting out into the Auckland Harbour as the eye travels across from Devonport. This hill, dubbed Maunguika by Maori, has traditionally been used as a coastal defence point, and is riddled with sneaky tunnels, scary-looking gun emplacements and various other arsenal from 120 years of New Zealand military history.  

The highlight for me was the sweeping views over Auckland Harbour. Standing on the top of the mountain you are nearly completely surrounded by water, and you can see right out to the Waitakeres. We sat on the northern side of the mountain looking out over Cheltenham Beach and Rangitoto Island and shared tea from a thermos and some lemon muffins. 

After some compulsory roly-polies down the hill we headed off to explore the tunnels. I recommend that you take a torch and, if you happen to have any at your disposal, an 8-year-old boy, who will have a ball playing war heroes and jumping out to scare fellow tunnel-explorers. We didn’t have either of these but we still had fun, especially when we came across a cave which later became the scene of a story involving a troll called Little Red Riding Hood (named by my toddler).  

Aucklanders, if you haven’t already been to North Head, I implore you to take advantage of the next sunny day and head out Devonport way. You’ll be reminded of the beauty of our harbour, as well as getting a hands-on history lesson. It’d be a great place to take visitors to the city too.

Bula!

Having been absent from the blogosphere (no, Mum, I did not make that word up) for a couple of weeks, I'm returning with a whopper. The latest in my 'try new things' mission has been an intrepid journey to the coconut-palm-lined beaches of sunny Fiji, thanks to my incredibly kind-hearted and generous parents who shouted us a holiday for our 30th birthdays.

I'll try not to brag too much, but with temperatures hovering around the 29 degree mark, a swimming pool that wound its way invitingly around the resort (complete with pool bar and white-sand beaches), silky smooth water at the beach, which was two steps away, and a full buffet breakfast to kick off each day, it's hard not to boast. Sipping my Fijian Warrior cocktail (which I mistakenly reported to be called a Dark Fijian to the elderly lady next to me, much to her amusement) whilst lying on a lounger by a pool reading a magazine, I could have died a happy woman.

Our little family stayed at the Radisson on Denerau Island, an incredibly family-friendly resort, as evidenced by the full laundry facilities in each room and the multitudes of little kiddies (some of whom came complete with full-time Fijian babysitters). Sure, you probably wouldn't want to stay here if you didn't have kids, but for us it was perfect.

Now, before I paint an overly rosy picture I should mention that holidaying with a 6-month-old and a 2-year-old is no picnic. As one of the mums by the pool put it as she sipped her Blue Hawaiian, 'Same shit, different place.' Our toddler pulled out all the stops to ensure that her parents couldn't completely relax: grizzling, tantrums, grizzly tantrums, refusing to carry out simple tasks and employing the 'no' word at every opportunity.  And our 6-month-old still sleeps about four times a day, forcing one of us to hang around inside for hours at a time, imagining all the fun to be had just a few steps away from the room.

I know what you're thinking - 'shut up, you got to go to Fiji.' And perhaps I should. Suffice to say that next time (and there will be a next time) we'll be bringing some friends along to ensure that we get some adult time to balance out the holiday.

Three days sans toddler

                                              .                                                                                 .
                                                     .                                    .                                               .
                  .

No, the lack of words in the sentences above isn't a website malfunciton. I'm just enjoying the sound of silence while I’ve still got it. This weekend has seen a seismic split in our family; my husband has taken my toddler away to a family bach, leaving me here at home with our five-month-old while I recuperate from a throat infection. Aaaah, the blissful silence. Aaaaah, the blissful tidiness. Aaaaaah, the blissful opportunity to catch up on all those chores jostling for my attention. OK, so chores aren’t blissful as such, but the resulting order in our previous chaotic household is – and this isn’t an exaggeration – my personal nirvana.

My to-do list at the beginning of the weekend extended on to three pages, and, happily, very nearly each and every ‘to do’ has a jaunty little tick next to it. A random sample: clean the microwave, do the taxes, tidy each bedroom, sort out the playroom, write thank you notes… Bored yet? I haven’t been. I have set to with a joyful hustle-bustle not seen since Scrubbing Day on the Pippi Longstocking film (which, if you haven’t seen it, is very highly recommended… or at least it was totally awesome when I was 8).

I’ve also – touch wood – managed to sort out my baby’s rather antisocial habit of expecting a meal at 4am. With no fear of the toddler being woken up by the baby’s, ahem, plaintive bleats, I was able to deny said meal until 6.30am. (Strange things go through your head while trying to ignore your baby’s wails. My mind wandered away from ‘am I a neglectful mother’ territory on to much more important things such as who would come out on top in a battle between the sandpit and the vacuum cleaner. Conclusion: the sandpit; the vacuum cleaner would clog up and stop working before the sandpit was empty. One more fascinating tidbit: if you cough into your pillow, as is necessary when you are trying to make as little sound as possible so your baby isn’t woken up the moment she appears to have finally stopped crying, it provides a rather lovely warm circle for your ear to rest when you lay your head back down.) I should mention that I didn’t let her cry for two and a half hours – when I realised that she wasn’t just going to go back to sleep, I gave her a cuddle and a nappy change, and she went off to sleep after a just a little bit more complaining. The following night she didn’t wake till 5am, and after a quick cuddle was off to sleep again, ready for a feed at the socially acceptable time of 6.30am. Could we have knocked this on the head? Only time will tell.

So my ‘new thing’ this week was to experience three consecutive nights and days without a toddler. I’m happy to say that while I have immensely enjoyed the relative peace and quiet, I am well and truly ready for her to come spinning, dancing and tumbling her way back into my house any minute now. I can’t wait to play with her and hear all about her holiday. I am looking forward to hearing her little voice speak its hilarious malapropisms. I am even keen to hide under a stuffy blanket from the bear/lion/witch that is coming down the driveway. Welcome back, little girl.

Writing Motherhood

One of my all-time favourite activities is browsing the shelves of the local library for an escape into a new world. Of course, nowadays I’m more likely to spend 95% of my library time in the kids’ section trying to limit my two-year-old to 10 books or under, which is really quite difficult considering she just roams around randomly pulling books off the shelf and declaring, ‘This one… and this one… and this one…’ until we are wading through a brightly coloured swamp of princesses and talking animals. When I try to look in the adults’ section she runs up and down the aisles, yelling, ‘Catch me, Mummy!’ and again pulling books off the shelf, asking, ‘What’s that?’ and pointing to – as she did last week – a picture of Martin Luther King Jr. (‘Um, he was a very famous man who wanted everyone to be happy, honey,’ I mumbled vaguely, red-faced, while a librarian smirked behind us.) I usually end up grabbing the first thing that takes my fancy, which is usually somewhat disappointing and a waste of time, stress and energy.


So I’ve taken to browsing the library catalogue online and requesting books to be sent to my local library. A few weeks ago I stumbled across Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues, and quickly sent a request off. As soon as I received the email announcing that the book had arrived, I packed the kids into the car and took off to the library to lay my hot little hands on the most inspiring and life-affirming book I’ve read in a long time. Here’s the summary:

"Have you always wanted to chronicle your experience of motherhood, but never knew how to begin? Are you looking for an outlet for self-expression, but can't imagine how you could juggle one more thing? In 'Writing Motherhood', long-time writing teacher Lisa Garrigues dispels the myth that motherhood is an impediment to creativity. Drawing on her own efforts to balance the demands of motherhood with her dream of writing, she shows readers how everyday life can be a rich source of stories, and how writing can provide a means to both understand and document their experiences. Whether you are a new mother or a grandmother, someone who has long aspired to write or someone who has never written before, 'Writing Motherhood' will help you find your voice and tap into your creative self. Filled with insight, honesty, and humour, each chapter of Writing Motherhood weaves together stories from the author's life with wisdom from other writers and mothers. In daily writing Invitations, Lisa then encourages readers to tell their own stories."

I always kept journals as a child and a teenager, writing my daily musings and chronicling the day’s events at the front of the books and jotting down lines of poetry and song lyrics in the back. It is partly to these journals that I credit my relatively smooth teenage years. Having an outlet to dump my frustrations, joys, dreams, fits of angst and woozy flushes of first loves gave me a chance to gain perspective, work through my ideas and learn from mistakes. It was a nightly ritual, a chance to wind down and take stock, and to explore my creativity in a very private and non-threatening way. I pretty much stopped writing when I moved in with the man who is now my husband, probably because I had a new – interactive! – listening post and didn’t feel the need so much any more. But I found that at challenging times I would pick up the pen again, finding immediate comfort in the familiar indulgence. As cheesy as it sounds, writing has helped me to be my own best friend.

So the summary of this book jumped out at me in one of those golden ‘everything clicks’ moments of serendipity. This is what I need in order to work through the biggest challenge I’ve ever faced – being a mum to two very tiny, very vulnerable and very needy little girls. I need a map to navigate this foreign country, and it is me who has to write it.

I finished reading Writing Motherhood at the weekend. At the core of the book is the encouragement to maintain a Mother’s Notebook – halfway between a journal and a writer’s notebook – and to commit to writing in it every day. The author offers tips and advice about fitting writing into your mothering life, and Invitations, which are basically writing assignments but with a more encouraging and positive ‘do it if you want to’ spin. It’s a wonderful book and an excellent tool for a mother who may have forgotten she was once a writer, or for someone who may want to give writing a go in order to chronicle these precious years. The only criticism I have is that it is very American-ised; so many of the examples, props or scents she mentions are so acutely American that it is slightly off-putting for a born and bred New Zealander. I know that we’re used to that in popular culture, but for some reason it’s more jarring and noticeable in a book about something so personal as writing.

That, though, is a small and minor criticism. I whole-heartedly recommend this book and its wisdom to any mother of any age or description. In fact, I’m so inspired by it that I would be keen to hold a workshop of the ideas with any willing mothers out there who may be interested. If that strikes you as something you might be keen on, comment below or send me a message. If you're unsure, try taking this quiz on the Writing Motherhood website.

“Motherhood need not be an impediment to creativity. On the contrary, it can be a limitless source for story.” – Lisa Garrigues

Anna the Nana

My two new things this week are delightfully reminiscent of a description of the favourite past-times of a 75-year-old: planting a herb garden and playing bridge. I say ‘delightfully’ here because my original use of the adverb ‘awfully’ put such a negative spin on two perfectly lovely activities. Let’s just not mention the fact that some of my other current favourite past-times are going for a morning constitutional, listening to National Radio and drinking cups of tea. Someone hold me back from the cross-stitch patterns.


The herb garden was inspired by the desperate screams (or rather fed-up sighs) of this overgrown barrel in our garden, wanting to be freed from the over-exuberant weeds that had taken residence.

It was time for an extreme makeover. The fun part (and the toddler's dream) was the ripping, the slashing, the digging and discarding.

For some unknown reason it was apparently necessary for me to visit three different garden centres in order to acquire compost, potting mix, potted parsley and coriander and a pair of cute little garden gloves for my toddler. Maybe it’s just that garden centres are rather pleasant places to visit. Uh oh, that’s my inner 75-year-old grandmother talking again.

The hardest part was lugging the compost and the potting mix over to the barrel from the car. Once the soil was in, the plants were planted, and hey presto, there we have it – a real-live herb garden. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s all really very easy and should never again take me six months of living in a place before finally getting round to planting a herb garden. (Disclaimer: unless in that six months I happen to have a baby and get the house renovated and be living with a toddler.)

My other new thing for the week was to learn to play bridge, which at some point in my life I had confused with cribbage, so I was slightly disappointed when I didn’t get to play with one of those cool little wooden boards with the pegs. Still, bridge proved to be easy to pick up for someone who has played 500 before – it’s basically the same but with no kitty, no bowers, no joker, and different scoring. Oh and the partner of the bid-winner gets to just lay all their cards down and take a little rest, while their partner plays for them. OK, so it’s quite different.

I’m hoping our little bridge club will become a regular Sunday-night thing, especially if it means my husband will cook a gorgeous dinner and one of the players will bring a home-made cheesecake. And I’m glad to have another possible retirement activity up my sleeve.

Good crafternoon

Now that winter has slithered its way back into our lives, I am presented with a new challenge to my ‘try new things’ mission. Summertime activities included paddleboarding, jogging, archery, visiting a country fair and a butterfly garden – all well and good when the sun is shining and the ground is dry (OK, paddleboarding being the exception there), but now I am restricted by the weather. Not to be put off, my new things this week are definitely inside activities, and I’ve been reminded that one nice thing about winter is the absence of that ‘really must get outside’ feeling when sometimes one just wants to cosy it up indoors.


This week I was inspired by Prime’s excellent River Cottage series (Tuesdays, 7.30pm), hosted by the dorkily charming Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. His mission is to try to get people to slow down and enjoy food more, and to prove that home-cooked food is not only good for you, but often tastes better too and is actually easier than you think. Last week’s episode was about making bread, and a baker on the show mentioned that one of life’s greatest joys is to bake fresh bread and eat it while it’s still warm from the oven. I am a willing participant in anything joyful, so I shrugged my shoulders, rolled up my sleeves and commenced the time-honoured tradition of bread-making… by hand. No fancy-pants breadmaker for me.

I followed a recipe in Allyson Gofton’s wonderful Bake recipe book. I won’t type the whole thing out but if you’re desperate for the recipe, let me know. It’s very simple – only five ingredients – and the steps are straightforward, but you really need to dedicate an afternoon to it because the dough needs to rise twice. (At least, it does in this recipe.) One important thing is to get the kneading technique right. Put on some funky music and knead to the beat for 8 to 10 minutes. It’s a great forearm workout and an excellent way to relieve any pent-up stress. And, of course, that first cut into the still-steaming crust, followed by the taste of the butter-smothered fluffy bread, makes it all worthwhile. My verdict: making bread is a wonderful cosy-wosy warm winter activity, and you get to feel all ‘back to basics’ and wholesome too.

My other new thing this week was to host a ‘crafternoon’ for my three delightful sisters-in-law. The brief was simply to take some time out and bring along any projects that we’ve been meaning to get to. I made this delicious – and very easy – Magic Slice, which I sourced from the blog of the equally delicious children’s clothing label Bubbalino. We positioned ourselves on the floor of the lounge, surrounded by our crafty tools and materials, and chatted and crafted to our hearts’ content. My project was a present for my fourth sister-in-law, who lives in Dunedin and who happens to be only three years old. I made her a memory game using photos of her Auckland family so she can remember us. In unison – awww! The rainy afternoon was whiled away extremely pleasantly, and was a lovely way to end the week. No wonder I’m feeling so balanced and peaceful today.

So it seems that winter is not going to be too much of a hindrance to this mission. In fact, the more challenges, the more creative one needs to be to find new, interesting and free (or cheap) things to try. As always, let me know if you’ve got any ideas for me.

Two New Breakfasts

For a long time now I’ve been meaning to watch Breakfast At Tiffany’s, that perennial favourite 1961 film starring Audrey Hepburn. I finally got the chance on Monday night by way of our snazzy Tivo, which enables us to download movies (legally!) and watch them two minutes after the touch of a button. Fab.

When watching or reading a classic film or book it’s always intriguing to ponder why this in particular captured the hearts of so many and has endured past its initial popularity. With Breakfast At Tiffany’s it’s obvious right from the beginning scene; Audrey Hepburn as the delightfully named Holly Golightly is breathtakingly elegant, and the character’s bubbly naivety is such that you can’t help but be enchanted by her unique character. The actress is well supported by male lead George Peppard, who plays a struggling writer, Paul, who lives in Holly’s building and becomes intrigued by her flighty, socialite ways. According to the excellent original trailer, which you can view here, the pair ‘breeze through the glitter and shimmer of New York’ doing ‘everything you’ve always wanted to do… and Audrey Hepburn’s the one you’ve always wanted to do it with!’

Indeed, in one excellent scene Holly and Paul decide to spend the day challenging each other to do things they’d never done before. Sound familiar? They drank champagne before breakfast, took a walk in New York in the morning, bought something from Tiffany’s (well, had something engraved – a ring from a packet of Crackerjacks), went to the public library and stole something from the ‘Five and Dime’ store. Nothing too outrageous, but it made for a fun day and would be a good idea for a first date!

Can you recommend any classic movies, on their own merit rather than because ‘you really should watch it’?

A couple of other new things this week, of the culinary variety: Banoffee Slice, below – try it and weep – and Honey and Peanut Butter Booster Bars, which are perfect for a quick breakfast. And morning tea. And afternoon tea. All on the same day.

Banoffee Slice

1 cup self-raising flour
¼ cup caster sugar
100g butter, melted
2 medium bananas, sliced thinly diagonally
1 cup thickened cream, whipped
60g milk eating chocolate

Caramel filling
395g canned sweetened condensed milk
90g butter, chopped coarsely
½ cup firmly packed light brown sugar
2 tbsp golden syrup

1. Preheat oven to 180 deg. Grease 20cm square pan; line with baking paper, extending over sides.

2. Combine sifted flour and sugar in a small bowl. Stir in butter. Press misture firmly over base of pan. Bake about 20 minutes. Cool.

3. Meanwhile, make the caramel filling. Stir ingredients in medium saucepan over medium heat about 12 minutes or until caramel in colour. Cool 5 minutes.

4. Pour filling over base. Refrigerate 1 hour or until firm.

5. Place banana over caramel; top with whipped cream. Grate chocolate, using a vegetable peeler; sprinkle over cream before cutting slice.

See Me Sumo

If you had tapped me on the shoulder at some point in the last year and said, ‘Anna, at 3pm on Saturday 30th April 2011 you will go sumo wrestling,’ I would have shrieked ‘Get thee to a mental hospital!’ (or, more likely, just looked at you askance with my lip slightly curled and my eyebrows slightly raised). But that’s exactly what I found myself doing on Saturday – sumo wrestling with my beloved. And no, it’s not some creepy way of referring to another unmentionable activity; as the photos attest, we actually donned fat suits and wrestled each other to the ground.


We had been invited to partake in said activity by a friend who was celebrating her husband’s birthday at Big Ups Games in Mt Roskill, an inflatable games venue for ‘kids of all ages’. The vast array of fun on offer boggles the mind when you first walk in: horizontal bungy, jousting, human fly, zorbs, boxing, climbing wall… the list goes on. Oh, and, of course, sumo wrestling. For a girl on a ‘try new things’ mission, this place is a boon.

For $15 per adult you get unlimited access to all the activities mentioned above, and more. My recommendation is not to take a toddler, who will need constant supervision so she doesn’t get knocked over by flying 10 year olds, and who will cry when Mummy and Daddy disappear into the fat suits. The presence of the toddler prevented me from trying everything out, but I did get a go in the zorb, and I got to jump on a bouncy castle for about 45 minutes, which was awesome.

I’m definitely going back. Without the 2-year-old. I’ve just read on the website that it’s available for hire for private functions. I just happen to know someone whose 30th birthday is coming up in September… someone who doesn’t like rugby, so who does not necessarily want to have a party because she KNOWS it will be ruined by whatever BLOODY game will be played that night.

So back to the sumo wrestling. If you do it, be warned that although there is ample padding on the front of the suits, the same cannot be said for the back, so when your husband body-slams you to the floor it kind of hurts. And it’s impossible to get back up gracefully. We didn’t last long because I could hardly move in the heavy suit, so it quickly descended into some kind of bizarre parody of the conjugal activities of the two Galapagos turtles at the zoo. I couldn’t speak for laughing.

Newly Scientific

This ‘try new things’ mission is evolving. I’m attempting to step outside my comfort zone to try things that don’t fit with the concept of self that I have built up over the past 30 years. It’s quite revealing; although I think of myself as quite a confident person, subconsciously I must have decided a long time ago that certain things are just not for me – I am not good at them and do not like them. This mission is proving to be a chance to revisit these things with fresh eyes, and it’s a wonderful opportunity to open doors that have been closed for many years. It reminds me of this beautiful quote from Frederico Fellini, Italian film-maker:

“Put yourself into life and never lose your openness, your childish enthusiasm, throughout the journey that is life, and things will come your way.”


So it was with all this in mind that I picked up the latest copy of my husband’s New Scientist magazine. After 10 years of living with this publication littering my coffee table and the arms of my couch, it was time to take a closer look. Having long ago decided that ‘science’ is really boring and hard, I had accepted that my children will be getting their science tuition and interest from their dad, and I would take care of the languagey, arty type stuff. But what if it’s actually interesting? What if I find that these science guys have something to offer me? I decided to try reading the magazine cover to cover.


I began, as you do, with the editorial, which stated tantalisingly that ‘particle physics has been gripped by an excitement not seen for 16 years’. Apparently the Higgs boson hasn’t yet been found (bummer), but another new theory is gathering steam – a fifth fundamental force called technicolour. Excellent! Or is it? Don’t ask me.


The next few pages were a bit easier on the beginner scientist. Aloe vera has been proved to cause tumours in rats (maybe you should lay off that aloe juice). A Swiss pharmaceutical company is selling a drug based on cannabis. The photographs of amateur astronomers have been used to create a montage of a comet, which helps scientists to map the path of the comet around the sun. And omega-3 eaten in the last months of pregnancy may help to ward off post-natal depression.


I’m only up to page 39 of 56, even though I’ve been reading the mag at every spare moment I have. This is a magazine so chock-a-block with ideas and information that even the ads are intelligent. I think I can actually feel my brain growing as I read it. Reading New Scientist while breastfeeding proves difficult, especially when I’m interrupted every 20 seconds by a toddler shouting demands to watch ‘Windy Pooh’ or gleefully yelling ‘Wees!’ with the smug knowledge that that’s the one thing that will force me up out of the chair.


But I’m surprised to announce that I am determined – and perfectly willing – to read right till the end. I’m especially looking forward to the section about the science of happiness. This month will see the UK become the first country in the world to officially record the happiness of its citizens. The survey to determine this consists of only four questions: How satisfied are you with your life nowadays? How happy did you feel yesterday? How anxious did you feel yesterday? To what extent do you feel the things you do in your life are worthwhile? The point of this research is to ‘enable citizens to make better life decisions and help win support for wiser social policies’. The article goes on to analyse happiness from a psychological and neurological point of view. It should make for interesting reading, and I’m looking forward to finding out more about the survey, and its results later on. And I’ll be picking up the next edition of the New Scientist too – but perhaps next time I’ll give particle physics and anything that mentions the Higgs boson a wide berth.

Yiamas!

I am somewhat of a stay-at-home-at-all-costs bod at the moment, so I have to ask my social life to come to me. What better way than to have a pot-luck dinner with a group of girls? I decided on a Greek theme after Googling the date and discovering that it was the calculated date of Odysseus’ return from the Trojan War. Time to celebrate, pot-luck style!


Turns out having a theme is a rather good idea, if I do say so myself. It meant everyone stepped outside their comfort zone to try something new, with most excellent results. It also created quite a cohesive dinner, as opposed to the hotch potch of a true pot-luck dinner. My guests embraced the theme and by 8pm the table was groaning with the flavours of Greece: feta, tomatoes, lamb, eggplant, yoghurt, olives…

Some standout dishes included lamb-stuffed peppers, cumin meatballs, and a mouth-wateringly delicious starter consisting of grilled haloumi on slices of bread with cherry tomatoes.



When I was in Greece in 2001 I lived on a diet of bread, feta and tomatoes (and, oddly, Nutella). Rather than stick to those old favourites I tried something new – walnut-topped baklava wafers with yoghurt and lemon honey syrup. Although a bit fiddly, they were very easy once I got the hang of it, and looked and tasted great. I recommend Puhoi Greek Yoghurt, which is silky smooth with a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste. Delicious.

We discussed ideas for another themed dinner – Mexican, Thai, Indian? Or maybe we could think outside the box a bit and do something like ‘breakfast for dinner’ or ‘only 3 ingredients’. We thought maybe next time we should organise it so that half the guests bring food and the other half bring wine, as we didn’t even touch the sides of some of the dishes. Not that I minded the next day – leftovers from that kind of meal are welcome any day. And I somehow scored two bowls out of the affair, too. Sweet.

Waddly Archer

This week I tried, in vain, to continue the water sports theme by booking in a kitesurfing lesson. Foiled by the wind (or lack thereof) at the eleventh hour, I was at a loss for what ‘new thing’ I could try. While contemplating this conundrum I was invited out to afternoon tea with some very dear friends of my parents in the beautiful Bethell’s Beach valley. As luck would have it, over the summer their Norwegian son-in-law had helped them to set up an archery range in their backyard. Bingo.

We wandered down to the archery range after a delicious piece of feijoa and ginger cake. While my daughter picked apples with my mum, and tui sang encouragingly from above, we laid out the bows and sorted the arrows. Feeling very Maid Marian, I confidently strung up the bow, only to find that I had inadvertently put it on backwards. Unfortunately, this was a sign of things to come; it turns out that I was not born to be an archer.

Not one of my arrows hit the rather large target board. Our friend kindly suggested that perhaps I should try the other bow, which supposedly gives the arrow a bit more flight. From this bow my arrows either went zinging way above the target into the bank behind, or fell rather pathetically to the ground a few metres short of the target. My husband and I swapped bows again, but I could blame my incompetence on my tools no more. I had a lot of fun and I’d like to try it again, but let’s hope I’m not called upon to hunt for live game to feed my family. They would get very hungry.

Top tips for the beginner archer: wear long sleeves (the arrows can rip past your forearm and leave quite a scrape) and find a very patient tutor.

The other new thing I’ve started is jogging. Those of you who know me well will probably need to read that sentence again to make sure you’ve read right, as I have traditionally been the girl who gets her mum to write notes on cross country day, and wouldn’t run for the bus if it was the last one on earth. But I picked up Kerre Woodham’s book Short Fat Chick in Paris for a bit of light reading, which is a follow-up to her first novel, Short Fat Chick to Marathon Runner. In the back of the book there are letters from people who were inspired by Kerre’s first book, and one of them was a mother of three young children. She wrote the following:

‘Fellow mothers of young children will agree that as a mum you are alone, but never alone! Running gives me an outlet where I can be with myself, by myself. No one can interrupt me and I can mentally file away my thoughts and worries, organise and plan the rest of the day and return home always feeling positive.’

I immediately put the book down and said hesitantly to my husband, ‘I feel like going for a jog.’ Expertly disguising the shock, he encouraged me to go RIGHT NOW – ‘You’ll probably never feel like going again!’ So I did. I just ran out the door and down the street, without getting changed or any of that palaver. I honestly thought I would only get a few metres down the road and have to stop, but – miraculously – I kept going. Admittedly it was only for about four or five minutes, until I returned home after running to the end of my street, around another cul-de-sac and back, but during that five minutes no one asked me for juice or vomited on me. I was hooked.

The next day I ran a little bit further, and a couple of days after that I ran/walked all the way to the dairy and back. I’m on a roll. I’m not aiming to run a marathon or even put any expectations on myself of a regular, structured routine; all I’m trying to do is keep going and keep enjoying it. I think it’s because of this that I actually want to do it. It’s not a chore; it’s time out, with healthy benefits to boot. I even tried running to the park with both kids in the pram, but my toddler kept yelling, ‘Too fast! Too fast, Mummy!’ which was slightly offputting (and a bit of an over-reaction – my jog is only very slightly faster than a walk).

I mentioned this new jogging thing to a good friend of mine, who immediately jumped on board and said she’d come with me once a week. Now we have a regular catch-up every Sunday at 5pm, and whether we walk or jog, we’re exercising our bodies and buoying up our souls. Magic.

And it’s FREE! 'All you have to do is doodly do it...'

Walking on water

Riding high on the buzz of last week’s musical experience, I looked for something physical to do to in order to use up some of this excited energy. Out of the blue came an email from a friend who owns some paddleboards, asking if I’d like to have a go. Yes, I sure would, replied I, so on Wednesday night my husband and I cruised on down to the Pt Chev boat club and met said friend and her husband, and my mum, who had agreed to come along to look after the kids.


Those of you who have the pleasure of frequently driving the length of the North-Western motorway between Te Atatu and Pt Chevalier will be familiar with the sight of this activity, but I may need to enlighten others. Quite simply, it involves standing on what looks like a wide surfboard and paddling your way through the water. I first encountered paddleboarding in Raglan, where we spied a lone vertical surfer in the rolling waves. He looked so steady and calm in comparison to the surfers; a graceful giraffe amongst darting lizards. I’ve always wanted to be a giraffe.

Apparently there was some kind of paddleboarding evening going on at the boat club, so when we saw a couple of people receiving what appeared to be a casual lesson, my friend encouraged me to go and listen in. I boldly rocked on up, and there followed a rather awkward exchange between myself and the man who turned out to be a professional tutor who was giving a private lesson – nothing at all to do with the boat club evening. He said I could listen in anyway, so I did, probably not as embarrassed as I perhaps should have been. I picked up a few good pointers and went merrily on my way.

I was taught to start out by kneeling on the board, and to stand up only when I felt good and ready. Standing up wasn’t too difficult, even in the face of the (very slightly) choppy water. Once I was up, I was away, paddling in short strokes on either side of the board. It’s a great full-body workout – your core and your legs are working hard at keeping balance, and your arms are pulling/pushing you through the water. I didn't even fall in.

It’s an incredibly peaceful activity. You glide along the surface of the sea with the water gently lapping over your toes, while the sun warms your back and glistens on the water. When you’re paddling into the wind you have to work a bit harder, but the reward comes when you’re on your way back – you can just stop paddling and let the water pull you along. I was walking on water, much like Jesus.

I have been itching to get back on the board ever since. Every time I see the water I think about what it would be like to get out there on the paddleboard in these conditions. I have even imagined paddleboarding at night, which I imagine would be even more peaceful (if slightly dangerous). I guess you could say that I have caught the bug.

Soul Food

Looking for a bit of inspiration, I posted on Facebook a request for suggestions for something new to try. I was pleased to receive many suggestions (including yodelling, which I may just store away for a rainy day), but the one that rocked my world was from my friend Ryan Youens, who is a professional music arranger, composer, conductor and music tutor. This clever and generous man suggested that I write some lyrics and he would write the music to the song. This isn’t strictly a new thing for me – I dabbled in a bit of song-writing with my brother when I was in my teens, but I haven’t even thought about doing it in (gulp) 10 years, so it’s new in the sense that it’s not something I am in the habit of doing.


Pouncing on this opportunity, I set to immediately and wrote the following:

Soul food

Every day with you is soul food
You hold a mirror up to me
And when I’m losing control, you
Fill me up with your soul food

Last night you looked at me and smiled,
Said, ‘Come here, my love.
‘You look tired and you need some time
To remember what you’re here for.’

It didn’t take long for me to realise
That you were one of a kind
A special light surrounded you
The warm glow from a huge heart and mind

I flicked it on to Ryan, and he replied immediately, saying he’d ‘whip it up’. A couple of days later I was stunned to hear that he had not only written the music, he’d also recorded the backing track with piano, guitar, drums and bass. He suggested that I come over and learn it and record it with him. By this stage I was so excited that I nearly wet my pants.

So four days after I wrote the lyrics, I found myself at Ryan’s house hearing the song for the first time, while his lovely wife cooked us a beautiful tortilla vegetable stack for dinner. It’s an amazing experience to jot down a few lines and have them set to music. The words came alive and took on a whole new level of meaning. I learnt the song (and here I should add ‘incredibly patient’ to the list of Ryan’s virtues) and recorded it. You can hear it here.

For the next few days I swanned around grinning from ear to ear, and not even the strongest willed toddler (who actually lives in my house, by the way – I will have to get on to ringing the Guiness Book of Records) could bring me down off cloud nine.

Ryan turned up to my husband’s 30th a few days later with the complete package of CD, chords and sheet music, all professionally bound with some photos of me recording the song. Seriously, how do you thank someone for this? Suggestions are welcome. My husband, for whom the song is written, is quite smitten with the song and has been humming it around the house ever since. (‘Da da da da soul food…’)

Meanwhile I’ve been considering what I have to offer for people looking for new experiences. My number one offer is a close encounter of the toddler kind, which is highly recommended as she is rather delightful, if a little demanding, which I suppose is the wont of people her age. I could also teach you how to make some mean chocolate chip biscuits, and I have a trampoline you can jump on. If you are interested in taking on any of these experiences please enquire within.

Butterflies flutter by

Winning the ‘right in my backyard’ category (so far), the West Lynn Gardens are well worth a visit. For a $2 donation you can visit these lovely grounds which are maintained by a team of dedicated volunteers. The gardens include a butterfly house with monarch butterflies perched in every nook and cranny, much to the delight of the kids at the festival day we attended today. One kid was even tormenting the poor things with a butterfly net, which I thought was a bit off, but there you go.

The gardens were established in 1981 – a jolly good year for beginnings, if you ask me. There are picnic areas and basic tea and coffee facilities. You can even get hitched there if you are so inclined. The grounds are open 10am – 4pm seven days a week. Isn’t it incredible what volunteers can achieve?

Town meets country

Auckland seems to be fizzing with public events at the moment. Must be the season for it. My ‘new thing’ this week was to attend the Kumeu Show, which I had somehow missed in nearly 20 years growing up in West Auckland.  Upon entry ($10 later) we were blasted with the cacophony of fairground jingles, screaming children and confused parents trying to figure out the overly complicated token system for rides. Our merry group added to the bedlam four adults, one 5-year-old, one toddler and a newborn. The fairground seems to be a place where the world is turned upside-down in more ways than one – parents walk around stunned with vacant looks on their faces while children seem to know exactly what to do, confidently dragging their bewildered carers this way and that.

                                                                                                           

Aside from the rides, there are the animals, which is really the point of the whole thing. My toddler was particularly taken with the kunekune pigs, which could be purchased for $75 each. Just quietly, I would have paid $75 not to have to take one home, but each to her own. We had close encounters with alpacas, which remind me of strangely shaped teddy bears, and the weirdest looking chickens I’ve ever seen in my life, who were cage-neighbours with Jemima Puddleduck. Adding to the surreal nature of the show were the gigantic pumpkins. Bummer for the guy with the smallest gigantic pumpkin. He would have come to the show fully stoked with his gigantic pumpkin and then, upon seeing the others, hung his head in shame.

One of my favourite parts of the show came when my daughter and I played the laughing clowns game, where you stick ping pong balls in the mouth of the clown and hope to win one of the awesome prizes hanging up on the wall. Of course, we only won the ‘consolation prize’— a plastic doll which lost its arm two seconds later after an over-exuberant yank. Still, a prize is a prize, and my daughter is still playing with the doll, and has even disfigured it further by yanking off one of the legs. She’s learning to accept diversity, so I’m cool with that.

All in all, a fun day out for young and old, with a little bit of something for everyone. I’ll definitely be returning next year. I might even go on the ferris wheel next time. I’ll have to work up to that.

Picasso, eat your heart out

This week it was time to visit my artistic side. I have never thought of myself as much of an artist – in fact, I have always claimed that I can’t draw to save myself. But this ‘try new things’ kick has given me the impetus and the confidence to step outside of my comfort zone, so I asked a good friend of mine to give me a drawing lesson. I decided I’d like to be able to draw a passable picture of one of my daughters, and seeing as this friend has drawn beautiful pictures of my daughter and my nephew I thought he’d be the perfect person to ask.

Before he came over I decided to have a little go and see what I could come up with pre-tutorial. I tried copying this picture.

I’ve decided to share the results with you purely to give you a good old laugh. Feel free to come back to this picture if you’re ever in need of a pick-me-up giggle session. Oh, and if you need something to frighten burglars away or scare your children into submission, feel free to print this out.

OK, so therein lies proof that I was in dire need of some guidance and that I had nothing to lose from receiving a lesson. My friend started by explaining that drawing people – or anything, in fact – is made much easier if you are taught how. There are, apparently, tricks and techniques that enable you to much more accurately represent your subject. So we started by doing a very quick outline of a face, and then plotting out the features by way of a cross. Precis everything out very quickly and roughly, with an eraser close to hand. Draw the eyes on the horizontal line halfway up the face, not towards the top. Figure out the other features from there. Most of all – don’t get too precious about any aspect of the drawing; be prepared to rub it out and start all over again. Once you’re happy with your rough drawing, start refining and defining the lines and adding in shading.

So here’s my effort so far with the right tools and a bit of guidance.

A wee bit better, no?

I tried another new thing this week – abolishing guilt. I was beginning to feel a bit down early this week as my husband has just returned to work after six weeks’ paternity leave. Living the life of a sole-charge parent of two very young kids is bloody hard at the best of times, but we had also just moved into our freshly renovated house (read: extremely messy with stuff everywhere) after two weeks of living with my parents. The girls were very unsettled – being out of routine – and I was sleep-deprived and very anxious to clean up and get the house feeling more like a home. Not a good mix.

By day three I knew I had to change my attitude and get out of the dumps. One thing I pinpointed was that I was constantly feeling guilty – guilty that I wasn’t spending enough time with one or other daughter, guilty that I wasn’t cleaning up the house enough, guilty for wanting some time to myself. Guilt was making me doing crazy things like giving into the incessant demands of a toddler – who, we must remember, is a complete lunatic just by virtue of being a two-year-old. I decided to abolish the guilt and see what happened.

Amazing what something so simple can do. Once I started putting a big STOP sign up at the first sign of the insidious guilt monkey, I began making rational, confident decisions and regaining control. For example, I have managed to get my baby into a proper sleep routine. Believe it or not, she’s sleeping 8pm – 6am or even 7am, and having good naps during the day, thanks to the old ‘controlled crying’ technique coupled with making sure she’s having proper three- or four-hourly full feeds. She’s a much happier baby and I’m a much happier mummy for it. I recommend this to everyone – banish the guilt! It’s a wasted, harmful emotion.

Yoga nidra

Right, so the first thing I’ve learnt on my ‘try new things’ mission is that the reason I felt kind of, well, bored as a stay-at-home mum last time is that it really is quite restrictive. I’m trying to identify new things to try, but it’s hard when you’ve really only got 20 minutes a day (if you’re lucky) when both kids are asleep, or you’ve only got one hand free while you’re breastfeeding, or you’re running after your toddler who has just wandered away from the potty with pee pee dripping down her leg. We’re also somewhat restricted in the money department with only one of us earning, so there’ll be no activities involving major purchases or fees.

So I’ve ummed and ahhed a bit this week while I searched for my latest new thing to try. Then an old friend rang up and said she’d like to visit. She is a yoga practitioner who has just returned from doing a month-long Thai massage course in Thailand. Aha! I thought. This is my opportunity! She’s bound to be able to teach me something new.

About an hour into the visit I pounced. ‘So I’ve started this mission…’ I explained, and asked if she’d mind teaching me something about Thai massage. But she struggled to find a discrete (not to be confused with discreet – I’m not making a crass joke about Thai massage here) technique or stroke, as apparently Thai massage is kind of all or nothing - it’s the whole package, the whole body, for a whole hour, if not two. So we started talking about why I was on this mission instead.

We talked about the way I felt last time I was at home with baby number one, and she prodded me for what I meant by ‘bored’. We eventually narrowed it down to a feeling of being unfulfilled – after a professional life of structured feedback, ticked-off ‘to do’ lists and planned and executed accomplishments, it was difficult to adjust to a life of living in the present and going with the flow. She had read a book that proposed that motherhood was the spiritual journey to end all spiritual journeys – that it really requires you to face yourself and your demons. It’s certainly true that I had become very used to a life of external motivation and rewards, and perhaps motherhood was (and is) an opportunity for me to become more introspective and, just as a baby does, live life in the present and enjoy just being. Huh.

Just before she left I asked if she practises meditation, which is something I’ve been thinking of trying. She said she does sometimes, and brought up the concept of ‘yoga nidra’, or yoga sleep. This is a state achievable by guided meditation, and she tells me that the benefit of 15 minutes of yoga nidra is the equivalent of two hours’ sleep. It sounds rather delicious: “a state of conscious deep sleep for extreme relaxation and subtler spiritual exploration.”; “Yoga Nidra is a systematic method of complete relaxation, holistically addressing our physiological, neurological, and subconscious needs.” Or, in simple terms, it calms, relaxes and refreshes you, and it’s FREE. I gotta get me some of that.

Weirdly enough, I realised afterwards that even as I talked about this stuff I was breathing more slowly and deeply. Apparently it’s calming to contemplate calmness.

So I searched for a guided meditation on You Tube. Turns out that in 2009, a lovely lady called Aurora, ‘Queen of Transformation’, uploaded a Christmas gift for anyone who’s interested – a guided meditation in 3 clips. All you need is a floor, your computer, 25 minutes and an open mind. Yoga nidra, here we come.

Aside from the annoyingly persistent fly who seemed determined to prevent me from reaching yoga nidra, and the break in concentration required to keep the meditation going when each clip ended, I can report that it was a thoroughly successful and blissful experience. And funnily enough this is not a new thing for me – I used to attend yoga classes when I was in my late teens/ early 20s, and it seems we used to practise yoga nidra at the end of every class. I just thought it was a bit of nice ‘lie down while the teacher talks to you quite slowly’ time.

The Queen of Transformation acknowledges at the end of the meditation that it’s not the most relaxing way to reach yoga nidra if you have to keep selecting a new clip, so she very helpfully offers her email address (lanidra@gmail.com) – on request she will email you a full clip. Now all I need to worry about is my laptop battery running out halfway through.

I will most definitely keep up this practice, and I can thoroughly recommend it to anyone who would like a way to quickly relax and re-energise. I find myself feeling clear-minded and fresh, ready to deal with the demands of the family life.  And did I mention it’s free? Awesome.

Other new stuff I tried this week:

1. Laingholm Beach fish and chips – averagely yum but nice setting and worth the trip. Also has a nice playground across the road and a dairy for an ice cream.
2. Arriving at a pot-luck dinner with nothing to contribute – easy and cheap! But not really recommended, especially if you’re coming to my house for a pot-luck dinner.
3. Te Atatu Peninsula library – perfectly nice run-of-the mill library with a couple of toys for the toddler, who (weirdly enough) pulled a random book off the shelf which turned out to be a book about coping with a new baby in the house. Handy.

I’m keen on receiving help with this mission, by the way. Do you have a hobby or skill you could share with me?

And what new stuff have you been up to this week?

Mi Cosa Nueva es Tu Cosa Nueva

I'd like to introduce you to my new pet project - Mi Cosa Nueva. For the uninitiated, this translates to 'My New Thing' and springs from the idea that I'd like to start focussing on giving new things a go, and encouraging others to do so too. Why? I am at the beginning of a year's maternity leave, and my experience from my first child was that after a while I really needed to have things to talk about other than the contents of my baby's nappy and how to clip her nails. It's so easy to get stuck in a rut, especially when the Plunket nurses and baby books are screaming 'CONSISTENT ROUTINE' at you.

So in order to shake things up a bit, keep fresh, I thought I'd start trying to do at least one new thing a week, and I thought it'd be cool if others do so too. I want to hear about your experiences in order to broaden my horizons even further. Now, this could be something as simple as trying a new shampoo or finding out the name of a tree in your garden. Or it could be something crazy and big like shearing a sheep (not for me - I don't like touching animals) or starting a circus (cos someone has to, right?).

The thing about trying new things is that it's not always going to work out. Take this blog, for example - my new thing for the week. I started (and finished) writing my first post last night. I wrote about how easy it is to create a blog (just go to http://www.blogspot.com/ and follow the instructions), but then when I hit 'Publish Post' the bloody thing deleted itself! I'm now frantically typing, feeling guilty that I should really be playing with baby and/or getting our toddler's breakfast ready.

I guess the other thing I should mention is that I'm not going for the 'create a fantastic new life and be an amazing person from NOW on' angle. Everyone I know is already interesting in their own way. I really just want to see what's out there, and maybe pick up a couple of cool new skills/habits/consumer goods on the way.

Somewhat sneakily, I've already kicked your 'try new things' journey off by teaching you some Spanish (that is, if you're not already a Spanish speaker, in which case your challenge is still outstanding). 'Mi' = my; 'cosa' = thing; 'nueva' = new.

So, who's with me?