Haiku Friday

loves' many faces.
manifestations unfold.
thank you. I love you.

Complicated

Fathers Day. On the outside its a straight forward idea. Have dad, will travel. I dont remember my real Dad, he left for war and came back a broken man, left us and died before i could track him down. Poor bugger, he was my age when he died. Apparently i have two half sisters out there Ive never met.

I grew up with my great uncle, he was my 'Dad' but he passed away at 90 a few years back. My ex step-dad (?!)is still around, we see each other a few times a year but a close relationship its not. Fathers Day is a complicated wrangle of memories, not sures, ex hubands, kids and 'who does what' and now with the bean its a fine balance between making a fuss of 'his' Dad and the girls Dad being so far away. Im usually glad when the day has passed. I found this pic of my Dad on the Australin War Memorial website a few months back. I was pretty pleased to find three as i had previously only 1 photo of him. I love this one coz its so cheesy. He's on the right. The Blokes had breakfast in bed and is now finishing some building work. Normal? Happy Fathers Day to all the Fathers out there, whatever form you may take! Im spending Fathers Day doing some online searching for my Dads story and some possible clues to finding some more family members.

and so we struggle

just like all normal people, we bumble along, tentatively, honestly, with our hearts on our sleeve and our head in our hands. We are dancing our way through a patch; a patch of uncertainty, of newness, of unchartered waters. Yes we had a great holiday, a wonderful relaxing holiday, but reality bites as soon as we returned. It had been there before we departed; a sore, an itch, an unresolved nip. How does a 53 year old (retired since he was 38 year old) man reconcile his past freedoms as a well-off entrepreneur and property owner with time to himself and money to burn, with his current reality as a stay home dad, homemaker to five and 'ships cook and concubine' to a working academic.
Well, apparently he doesnt. Well he does and he doesnt, and he does and he doesnt. As a life long feminist with feminist/marxist parents, grandparents and great grand parents and parents before them, I use all the empathy i have to manouver us through the ultimately feminist/patriarchial issues i now see my male beloved struggling with.

Issues he never thought he would face ( how could he as a priviledged male of the upper middle classes?) but issues i knew he ultimately would face through the sheer nature of the job, but thought it best he reconcile them for himself when the time came. Our time has come. We had a very beautiful conversation this evening where he opened himself right up, confronted his weaknesess, his foibles, his limitaions, his maleness. He struggled, cried, mourned and asked for comfort. He confronted for himself all the feminist issues of drudgery, boredom, repetition amd emotional exhaustion that women have traditionally faced. I cannot tell you how pleasurable it was (after a day or so of pissed-offness), exquisitely beautiful in all the right ways, to use all my knowledge and experience as a mother and a woman to comfort the man i love in dealing with his feelings of inadequacy, distress and insecurity about being the primary care giver to our beautiful boy. I do understand. To reassure him that he was doing a fine job despite his perceptions about being ill equipped to do it. To have him appreciate and need my warmth, reflection, humility and empathy was priceless. Its a struggle sometimes, we went through days of uncertainty, but the other side is glorious.

Raw Cashew Butter

I returned from California with a new love. Organic raw cashew butter. But, I cant find raw style butter here, every brand i have seen always uses toasted nuts but in my opinion the raw cashew butter tastes much smoother and silkier. Since then I have been buying various nut butters from our local organic store at quite a hefty price and Im realising it doesnt bloody last long. We use it every day; stirred into the boybeans rice porridge, on toast or bread and in smoothies. Its luxe. So after buying just one too many jars of the stuff (the cashew, brazil and almond mixed butter is grreat too), I was inspired to make some.

I got as far as the cashew bin with bag in hand before i realised i had a serious problem. How to transform it from a nut to something paste like? We have a food processor, but lets just say, a Cuisinart its not. I bought it for 20 bucks and it chops the bottom 1 cm of the load. Thats it. Lots of poking with a wooden spoon required. Useful. Not. Bugger. For a foodie it was a serious error made on the run, I wasnt in the mood for spending money and fooled myself into thinking it would do the job. Damn. Now Im stuck with a half arsed machine that i cant bear to replace.

So i left the idea (too hard basket) until i read Naturewitches' post about her new machine. I was inspired all over again and just kind of casually said to Simon, "Hey, do we have anything we can make nut butter with? I want to make some cashew butter but the blender's just going to burn its motor if i use that?" Hmm, maybe i should burn out the motor.


"Sure, we have a manual stone mill for flour and nuts in the pantry"

"We do?"

We do.

Blimey

Cohabiting with someone who lived through Glastonbury and Woodstock has its advantages!



So i got it out, worked it out, and set to work outside in the cool of the morning turning the handle until all the nuts resembled a fine greasy meal.


I decided against adding more oil to combine it into a wetter, sloppier consistency, I just pressed the meal into the jar as it wasnt grainy at all. The texture is firm but silky smooth and spreadable.

So in half an hour yesterday morning, a kilo of raw organic cashews got turned (literally) into this. It tastes divine, so fresh.

Too Easy.

back on track

well the relief is palpable. After far too long, 'The Conversation' was embarked upon. SIL had returned east, babybean was in bed, and the other 2 beans were happily embedded at friends houses for the night. Chilled wine opened (could have been a bad idea, but it wasnt) and we sat end to end on the couch and waded in to the depths of our fears, hurts, anger and expectations. As anticipated, it was a very fruitful and respectful evening; we both have quite strong opinions about how such conversations need to be managed, self hung on to and dialogue held very much in the present. It just took us a week of acceptance of our sadness, 'innocence lost' (it was only the second big dispute we have ever had) and reflection as individuals to get there. We are both taureans (stubborn as hell) both with the experience of our last big relationship being to Scorpios, so we have pretty much identical patterns of expectations about who is responsible for what when it comes to sorting out disagreement! Laughter did occour.

Being a blended family comes with challenges. In our case B2 is a strong willed extrovert and empathy is not very present in her emotional vocabulary. She likes to argue and argue her point when asked to do something not to her liking. It appears to be her tool for tying you up in knots in order to get you to drop the request. I've been dealing with her since birth (obviously) and am sometimes quite unaware of this behaviour, certainly as a parent who encourages debate and negotiation, perspective on what is healthy posturing can get skewed. So thats B2. Simon brings to the table a very conflicted relationship with his late step daughter, who fell off the rails then into a negative crowd and behaviours, ending with her very tragic death in her teens. B2s apparent similar behaviour traits pushes all his panic buttons and he goes into a tailspin which i am yet to be able to pick. So he gets spooked, reacts innapropriately, B2 gets worse, i get freaked and we all head down into a very murky place for a while, culminating in an argument between them; she gets beligerent, he regresses and then gets beligerent and i blow up at both of them. Pretty. Not.

So this morning i find myself in a place that is a little battered and worn but feeling loved, loving, supported, understood, understanding and a little wiser with a mutual resolve to do it a little better next time, and bloody looking forward to an uncomplicated and hopefully hot week with the boy in Hawaii and Christmas with his family in San Francisco.

blogging blues

blogging when you're pissed off and totally angry is really friggin' hard. Im having a mega bad week, day 7 but who's counting, right? im soo miss grumpy pants and blowing off my own socks but i havent managed to resolve anything. we (me and the as yet unmentioned other half of miss grumpys problem) have made no space and no time. i hate that and totally when we have relatives over and really need to be in a good space for their pleasure and comfort but we have had no time or space to get into a better head space together so were going through the 'pretending everything is ok but everyone knows somethings off rigmarole' (maybe they cant but it feels that way). i cant remember the last time i was in a funk for this long - its totally stubborness related. i think im playing the 'im not gonna do all the emotional relationship work around here so im not gonna be the one to start the conversation, you have to start it' game. its killing me. im sleep deprived from baby, breastfeeding, parenting two others, menstruating and ships cook and i dont want to add 'emotional manager of the relationship' to my list. Fuck. I'd better do something about 'it' before we go on holidays! i just refuse to believe that men cannot start conversations of this kind and refuse to pretend that the catalytic blowup didnt happen. Im wanting a conversation but refusing to start it. just how juvenile is that ? ugh.

Sunday Happy

my 'ex' step dad came for afternoon tea with his girlfriend; he's the girls 'Poppy'. Family really is how you choose to define it. he's the only 'grandfather' left on either side and although he and my mum are no longer together, he's the boybeans Poppy too. He's been in my life since i was 10 and although we are not really emotionally close, the bond is there and always will be; he was the first real gardener in my life! he's got the heart of a lion. besides lots of cups of tea, i made fresh bread and a semolina and yoghurt lemon syrup cake and Poppy brought half a kilo of snow peas from his garden,bottles and jars of his well loved home made spicy tomato sauces and pickles, 16 home made vege pies for the freezer and a fantastic spinach, feta and potato number, maybe not a fair swap... but he was a happy Poppy and the bean was happy too.

the getting of wisdom, Montessori style

" well, I'll just give it a try and see how i go... you should at least give things a go you know, Maia"

these were the words B2 used on her big sister last night when B1 denounced, in her very deprecating teenage way, B2s interest in doing gymnastics as completely stupid and that she would be totally hopeless at it.

I did a mental air punch and silent "yeah, sock it to her Lil". That statement of supreme confidence in the face of such scorn, made in a very calm and measured way was a revelation. It was the circle turned in full. It made me realise just how far we had come in the last 18 months, a real expression of the 'new' but 'old' Lily.

When the girls father moved interstate to live with his girlfriend, the girls were incredibly grief stricken. To go from an almost 50/50 shared care arrangement to a 'maybe every holiday' arrangement really knocked them around. Maia just kept quiet about it, but Lily, always the diva really acted up and played it out. Her self esteem plummeted to an all time low and it culminated in running away from school many times, reaching a creschendo of police searches and finally full suspension from school for trashing her school principals office (you go girl! I had to admire her angry audacity). Now while the school understood and empathised that she was not coping with events in her personal life and was angry and hurting, they had neither the time or resources to patiently walk alongside Lily while she healed and disrupted the rest of the class in the meanwhile. This kid was doing some serious mute table standing and alternating it with low level constant humming. I have always believed in public education but watching her behaviour escalate into a mini tornado i knew that suspensions were not going to solve the situation and that left as it was, her self esteem would continue to deteriorate and her learning would suffer and that keeping her in this school was no longer an option.

So after looking around at local options and exploring homeschooling (my mum and husband both volunteered - im the breadwinner), I decided that the local Montessori primary school looked great and they agreed to enroll her after a meeting with us and her therapist. Lily had HATED her Montessori kindergarten ( all that structure is really not her essential style- she forgets whats shes looking for when she opens the fridge!) and i was a little concerned that the self directed learning which forms a core of the Montessori approach would be used by this fiery Aries as an excuse to do absoloutely nothing or at least the bare minimum. After trying on her old tricks at her new school quite a few times she soon worked out that the Montessori approach to discipline was very different to her old school and after being calmly reminded for the upteenth time about reponsibilites, choices and consequences she finally 'got it' and this year has seen a child changed. So to see a despairing grief stricken and very pessimistic child transform into a confident, can-do, considerate, interested and optimistic leader, i know that her Hills Montessori School, through sensitive guidance and persistence has had a great hand in helping her realise her full potential. Last night i felt like i finally had my girl back.

“One test of the correctness of educational procedure is the happiness of the child.”
Maria Montessori

on being blended

its a challenge being a 'blended' family and as the adult who is the 'bridge' between the two; my husband and my kids, its sometimes very painful and confusing. Sometimes it feels like i have to determine who is right and manage 'sides' when there is no right and no side to take. Im conducting a show without a script and trying to make sure everyone feels heard when personal styles and expectations between step parent, mother and kids are not always aligned. When a moment is heated and lightening is striking it can be hard to keep yourself focussed on the issue at hand, my rational brain switches off to 'mute all' and my emotions turn me into mother bear and overwhelm me. Being a grown up and the biological piggy in the middle sucks and sometimes you really just want to put your hands over your ears and mutter blablahblahblahblah. When you layer that with children who feel abandoned by their biological father and are struggling to come to terms with a very painful loss precipitated by a move interstate to be with his girlfriend and her 3 boys, things get pretty whacky sometimes. So yesterday, when B1 and B2 declared baby bean really lucky to have Simon as his natural dad and they wished he was their dad too and could they call him dad just 2 days after arriving back from 2 weeks holiday with their bio-dad, my heart stood still and ached. I was at once rendered so melancholic for them whilst simultaneously feeling overjoyed that they recognised Simons' worth. What do you say? Do you focus on the bio-dad issues or the step dad issues? Then whatever you decide, your respnse has to be condensed into a 'bite sized piece' coz you dont want to freak them out with a lecture about the who, whats and whys of the emotional dilemma inherent in such a statement. So i said, oh so casually (if only they knew) something like "yes, simons lovely, were lucky to have him and its up to you what you call him, he's happy with whatever you choose", to which they said ok and then happily wandered off to look at some books completely oblivious to the emotional maelstrom they left in their wake.Where is the previous life experience and pareting manual that helps you deal with a moment like that? Crikey.

Anyway, those damn sprouting potatoes finally were put to rest in their little holes in the ground and i can cross them of that list. You know the one.