The Diva-ishness of Daughters

There's something about daughters.
I have just the one, sandwiched between two larikins.
She often laments her lack of sisters and sobs out her disappointment with male crassness on my shoulder.
My daughter has an imagination that could paint the moon.
To match her dreams she has Drive, Determination and Daring.
And along with all those other fabulous D-words, she is also an idealistic perfectionistic Diva.

Combine all these factors and you know you're headed for a fall at some point.
Because the reality of real life is often less than ideal.
Dreams are sometimes dashed and brilliant plans often get derailed.
Nothing turns out the way it does in storybooks, darn it.

Take the other night.
Miss Fab recently discovered the joys of electronic keyboards while we were on holiday in Tauranga. There was one at our friends' house and she spent every spare minute playing on it.
"I wish we had a keyboard..." the music diva sighed on the way home.
Daddy recalled, "Hey, I think we've had one of those things stashed in the garage for years! I'll get it out for ya when we get home..."

And with that, a brand new passion was born.

Our diva spent all day playing around on her new keyboard, finding beats and tapping keys. As she did her dreams and plans built up sky high.

She would have a show, nay, a concert! A grand ole Opry where ladies and gents would come and sip genteel refreshments as they watched her (stunning) (surreal) (celebrated) performance.

Tickets were sent out, taped to bedroom doors, inviting, nay, commanding everyone to be in attendance after dinner, forthwith.

The concert piantist planned her outfit, set up chairs and even trained an encore act. Little Brother could sit in "third class" at the back of the room until called upon to push some keys and do a little twirl (she had him practising all day).

So cute, right?
But parents know how these things turn out.
They remember past meltdowns when things didn't go quite to plan.
They know they will soon be picking up angry, sad little pieces of their concert pianist's heart, if her ambition isn't tempered with reality (she has brothers).

Ahhh, but concert pianists are nothing if not headstrong divas.
Our concert pianist ignored all pleas to "not expect things to be perfect" and "don't get your hopes too high".



Time for the concert.
The public arrived on time and were shown to their pre-arranged seats.
The show began.
All went well... until the sniggers started leaking out.
Furious glares were shot to the cheap seats.
Harsh whispers aimed at 10 year old boy-ears.
"Shhh! Don't laugh!"
"Encourage her... be positive...."



The sniggerer zipped his lip. The pianist continued to press random keys and combine electro-beats.
The concert was a little long.
So the public chomped on chippies and sipped orange juice.
Polite applause between tunes... So many tunes!

"How many more???" "Is it finished yet?" and then "I'm bored..."

That's when the dancing began.
In an attempt to liven things up and participate in the performance, Daddy overestimated his ability to make an audience laugh.



One concert pianist extremely miffed at having her show stolen.
One big brother rolling on the floor laughing.
(One little brother sitting obediently as instructed.)

One daddy boogying down.
One mummy saying, "Guys! Guys!"
One sad angry little concert pianist, her concert-debut dreams in tatters, her ears ringing with male laughter, stomping off in a huff to the park...

Sigh.

Sugar and Spice and all things nice?
Sure. Little girls are sweet. But some of those spices are hot chilli peppers.
Daughters are delightful indeed.
But they can also be feisty, emotional drama queens who would give any Hollywood diva a run for their money.

Gotta love em though... they are fabulous, after all.

"This is Your Life" - a Fab 40th Party

My toy boy turned 40 this week. Saturday was his party.
The theme: "This is Your Life" - everything to do with the husband. Guests were encouraged to come dressed in theme, and bless them, most did.

There was plenty to choose from for inspiration: He's English (with a Scottish dad), a football fan (Newcastle United), a cycling nut; born in the 70's and his favourite colour = red (the meaning of his
name).

Food, decor and even drinks to match: Treats from the English Grocer; 1000 Ferrero Rocher...

Lambrusco (a drink from the early years), Newcastle Brown Ale (tastes like dirt), Sangria (my signature drink) and his all time fave: Pina Coladas. I even created a DIY Pina Colada Bar...

 

Lots of old photos, of course...

A jukebox hired in... programmed with the birthday boy's favourite olde timey 70's rock tracks 

(much to the horror of certain mullet-wearing guests)

 Of course it was weather reliant. If it rained it would be crap. If it was clear, brilliance was predestined.

It rained. I panicked.

But it cleared. And the Birthday Boy got the deck finished just in time.

Here we are, the happy couple. I had no time to plan an elegant costume amidst all that party planning. So many suprises afoot. So many secrets to keep. Look at him. he has no idea what's coming...

Ahhh yes. that would be the mulleted individual I mentioned earlier. Married to a certain blog friend recently returned from China....

So what was the big secret I had to work so hard to keep?

Well, see that lady here with the blonde hair?

That's his mam. She lives in Newcastle... in ENGLAND. That's where he thought she was. But no. She got on a plane, unbeknown to him, and landed just in time to turn up at the party and knock his socks off....

He had no idea. You should have seen his face. Sadly you can't because part way through the night I mislaid my camera, so I missed capturing his stunned mullet expression, the blank faced stare as his brain tried to take in the fact that his mum was not in England as he thought. She was right here in New Zealand for his 40th birthday party. It made his day week year

Also turning up to surprise their big bro were his sisters, all the way from Wellington. He had no idea about them either. He looks pretty pleased doesn't he? (Yes those are my children, up and awake well past their bedtime. All the excitement of surprise guests... how could we expect them to sleep through that?)

[plenty of creativity with the costumes: the prize goes to mullet-boy, with Stubbies guy a pretty funny 2nd]

All in all it was a flippin awesome night, and a rip-roarin' party if I do say so myself.

Mr G felt so loved and blessed; his family weren't the only ones who came a long way to be with
him on this momentous occasion, other dear friends traveled from far afield too.

Yep, a pretty amazing night. It couldn't have gone better.
Happy 40th Birthday, husband!


xxx

Family Movie Night: Despicable Me vs. Megamind

Every Saturday we will be sharing with you our ideas for family movie nights. Movie reviews and fun theme night ideas.

[Source]

Our crack team of expert Movie Reviewers are this week comparing Megamind and Despicable Me... two movies which both featured baddies-turned-good.

Usually when you get two movies on a similar theme, one is clearly better (the original) and the other a lame try-hard copycat trying to catch a ride on the coat-tails of another's success.

At first glance you might think this scenario would apply to Despicable Me and Megamind.
They released at around the same time. Both their main characters were villains who became reluctant heroes. So which one is the original? Which one is better?

Well, actually, they are both surprisingly cool movies (for kids flicks, I mean. We are not talking Oscar-winners here, people).

Beyond their obvious similarities, they are different enough to think that perhaps two movie producers both got the same inspiration, at the same time, completely independently.



We watched Despicable Me first.... and loved it. It's quirky, un-cheesy and (with Steve Carrell voicing "Gru" the "baddie") it's flippin funny.

When the kids insisted on seeing Megamind too, I groaned. "Here we go with the copycat," I thought.
And then had to take it back. Surprisingly, I liked it. Though not quite as much as Despicable Me.
For my money, Despicable Me has the edge (Which is great since there's a sequel coming out soon...)

I checked out what IMDB had to say about both these movies, and I learned a few things.
They were both released in 2010 (seems mere months ago - oh how time flies). There are plenty of big names in both cast lists (I only remembered Steve Carrell as "Gru").
When it came to scores from combined ratings and reviews, here's how they stack up:
Megamind scores 7.3/10
Despicable Me edges ahead slightly with 7.6/10.

Yep, Just as I thought. Both cool, but Despicable Me slightly cooler.

If you haven't seen them yet, both these movies are both available as "Get Now" (GN) on Fatso. Don't all rush at once...

(Apologies that it's just me this week. As I write this, our Super-Cool-Fab review team are fast asleep; they'll be back next week, promise.)

MEGAMIND (PG) ****
Megamind is fun. It's got a witty storyline, and an original idea: super-villain turns reluctant hero. We saw this at the movies and have watched it many times since, on DVD. All the kids like it, from the preschooler to the big boy; it's one of those kids movies I don't mind watching again from time to time. Starring the voice talents of Will Ferrell, Jonah Hill, Brad Pitt and Tina Fey. More info on IMDB.

KID WATCHABILITY - good for all ages - it is PG, which I think is because there are battles and potentially confusing villains turning good.
SCARY BITS - Not really any stand-out scary bits.
GROWNUP WATCHABILITY - We happily watch it

DESPICABLE ME (PG) ****

This one came out around the same time as Megamind - not sure who was first with the idea of villain-turns hero, but although Despicable Me shares that thread with Megamind, that's where the similarity ends. We all loved Despicable Me. "Gru" (the villain-turned-daddy) is won over by three orphan girls who are disarmingly cute, without being cheesy at all. There's plenty of laughs, a few "awwwwww!" moments and the villians' "minions" are super-cute. We are looking forward to the sequel. Starring the voice talents of Steve Carrell, Jason Segel, Russell Brand and Julie Andrews. More info on IMDB 

KID WATCHABILITY - good for all ages; enough action to keep the littlies happy
SCARY BITS - Not really any stand-out scary bits.
GROWNUP WATCHABILITY - We happily watch this one too

Each to their Own (School Visit Mama Drama)

School Visits. An introduction to the world of Schooldays, for wide-eyed soon-to-be schoolkids.
Some schools do them better than others.
We are some of the lucky ones - our school does them fabulously.

For the four Thursdays prior to an intake, little ones turn up to school at 8.45am with their schoolbag, brain-snack and mummy.
They learn where to hang their bag, and how to sit beautifully on the mat.
The sing the alphabet song and listen to stories.
They meet the new entrant teachers, soon-to-be classmates and participate in an actual school morning for a whole hour and a half.
By the time their first real schoolday rolls around, they know what to expect; they hit the ground running.

Last week was Scrag's first school visit.
Of course with a big brother and a big sister already at school, AND a Principal's Award sticker tucked away already, Scrag was uber-confident.
Maybe just a smidge TOO confident.
He already knows a bunch of kids in the group. He even has a (now defunct) school uniform which he insists on wearing.



On the mat, his confidence overflows... he is, if anything, a bit too chatty. A bit too vocal to his mat-mates.
"Scrag! Are we sitting beautifully?" "Scrag, eyes on me..." "Boys... Scrag... no talking, just listening now..." I hear the teacher say repeatedly.
Over to my left is a mother cuddling her child on her lap (lets call him... Fletcher). She gives me one of those looks. Self satisfied. Smug. Her child isn't being asked to sit nicely, stop talking.



Soon it's time to do some crafting. A bit of Easter bunny art.
Crafting and drawing is not Scrag's strong suit.
Give him a tree to climb or a race to run, and then we'd see him shine.
He doesn't have the patience to sit and colour carefully within the lines.
A slap dash scrawl of red pastel on the bunny's head. That'll do, Scrag thinks, and he's off to the next thing.
Fletcher sits carefully shading his picture beautifully; no slash of red turning his bunny into a Halloween victim...
Fletcher's mum glances across at Scrag's abandoned effort and smirks. I kid you not.
It's the same look she gave me when Fletcher sat on her lap while Scrag "made himself known" on the mat.

I feel myself cringing at the condescension I feel emanating from this woman.
I look around for evidence that other kids... other BOYS... are as slap-dash with crayons as my lovely lad...
Oh dear. Everywhere I look I see carefully coloured wall-worthy masterpieces.
It's OK, I remind myself. Scrag is clever at other things. He's great at counting...

It's time to paint our kids' feet, print them onto paper and turn them into bunny ears.
Scrag giggles as the teacher paints his feet.
The teacher is astounded by the size of Scrag's hoofs.
"Those are mighty big ears!" she says admiringly.
"Size two," I say proudly. "ADULT Size two." (Playing to our strengths here. We are tall. And Strong.)

We finish towel-drying our feet and return to our table, where Fletcher is still colouring.
The teacher approaches and says, "Would you like to come and have your feet painted, Fletcher?"
Fletcher recoils and shakes his head.
His mum speaks for him: "Fletcher doesn't feel very comfortable with having his feet painted," she says with a grimace.
Each to their own aye? We all have our strengths and our weaknesses. Our kids too.
Not everyone's a future Monet. Some of us are better at other things.

I look down at my sweet boy's bunny picture with the horror show face and the giant ears.
It's priceless. Precious. Not to be compared.

So. It's after midnight and I find myself sitting up writing this, thinking about tomorrow's school visit - taking myself in hand.
I will not let myself cringe if Scrag is loud, chatty. He knows how to behave; he has lovely manners. (He just gets excited when he gets with his buddies).

I will not compare Scrag's name-writing and bunny-drawing with the child of a teacher (who knows how to make learning fun) or a quiet little lad who doesn't like his feet painted but who can sit for hours and draw inside the lines.

Each to their own.
No comparing.
I will not care what people think. (He'll be fine Simoney, he will).
My boy is lovely and bright and special and 100% pure energetic BOY.
He's a lovely little lad, sweet natured and fun-loving.
All the rest will follow.
That's why they are going to school, to learn.

(can you tell I'm a somewhat nervous new-to-school mother? even doing it third time round?) (do you know what  mean? ever felt this way?)

Road Trippin to The Bay

Road trippin with Team G always carries with it an element of drama.
Not for us the simple life. Smooth getaways and idyllic vistas without a soundtrack of squabbling tend to be in short supply.
And yet we do it again. And again.
Some would say we never learn.
Others might chime in, yeah but it's worth it.

This Easter we planned a minor excursion. Just a one-nighter to the Bay of Plenty, Tauranga, to stay with friends who had recently moved there. A brief break from normality before the madness of birthday season sets in.

Before we had even left the greater Auckland area, there was comedy/drama of the sort you might find in an Adam Sandler movie.

Let me paint the picture... After the stress and strain of packing three whingeing, complaining bodies and their requisite gear into our people mover, hubby pulled into the BP around the corner from home for fuel (petrol and sustaining coffeeeee).

Back in the car, we sipped caffeine and tried to ignore the noise from the cheap seats as we rolled down the motorway on-ramp and picked up speed.

Der-dunk! Der-dunk!

What was that noise? I asked hubby, who shrugged, unconcerned, and kept sipping.
A few hundred meters further down the road he suddenly froze and began fumbling in his pockets.
"Where is it? Where's my phone???" he kept muttering.
Oh no.
"You don't think it could have been the phone that made that noise do you? Could you have left it on the roof....?"
Shocked eyes turned on me and silence was demanded.
We pulled off the motorway at the next exit, and returned the way we'd come. Now we get back onto that same on-ramp where we heard the der-dunk, and we cruise along the hard shoulder at snails pace with eyes peeled.

"What's that?!" I cry, spotting a small black rectangle across two lanes, lying in the gravel.
Mr G pulls up, hops out and dodges traffic to retrieve the object which looks awfully like a cell phone.
He waves it at me. Not a cell phone. A rubber cell phone case.
But still, a clue. We are getting warmer; the cell phone can't be far.
I see my hubby's eyes light up as he spots the actual phone, sitting unhurt on the white line between two lanes.
I start to sigh with relief, thinking, "Alls well that ends well" and "this will make a funny story" when to my horror the cell phone disappears from view in a shower of plastic bits.

A learner driver crossed the lane and hit our phone, dead on.
Unbelievable.
It's gone. Smashed to bits on the motorway. We nearly had it! We were seconds away from picking it up when that L-Plated egghead couldn't steer straight and smashed it to smithereens.

And so with this dramatic beginning, we were on our way.

I should also mention that Mr G was due to turn forty on Easter Monday, which is why we had thought to simply stay one night and return home for our traditional gift-frenzy first thing in the morning.

But the Bay had a strangely relaxing effect on us, despite the drama.
It's a jandal-wearing, laid-back, holiday-feeling place. Famous for surf beaches, mega new years eve parties and the Rena... I gently suggested to Mr G that perhaps we could stay another night, delay the gift-opening a little, squeeze in a game of golf (for him) and some blog-friend-visiting (for me).
Surprisingly, he agreed.

[New friendships were kindled, which had all our kids asking: "When are we coming back???]

We stretched out of one night's supply of undies and shirts to last an extra day and made the most of our time in the Bay. 

Mr G retold the story of his phone many times (the disastrous end made the story even more dramatic) and he enjoyed a different kind of birthday, without the constant beeping of emails and txts from his ancient brick of a Blackberry (which should have been replaced two years ago). 

That learner driver did us a favour, really (now he'll have to get a proper SMARTphone and join the rest of the world).

[A version of Go-Home, Stay-Home kept the kids occupied]

So, after a lovely morning spent at Delissimon's new abode, full of sunshine, salty air and the kind of lightness that comes from sharing laughs with friends, we headed back to Auckland.





Forgetting completely that it is now Easter Monday and everyone else is heading home too.
When we hit our first tailback at the intersection with Route 27, Mr G made an executive decision and took the long way home to "beat the traffic". An extra 60km while moving is preferable to sitting in traffic jams, right?
Well, yes such would be the case if we didn't also hit a tailback on SH1. "Take the long way home" is the theme tune of this journey...
A two-hour car trip ended up taking four hours to get home.

[Delissimon's new place in the Bay is FAB and so is she, of course]

And yet. Somehow while playing old 80's remixes and hearing the kids break into spontaneous "happy birthdays"... somehow it was a cool trip anyway.
Worth the loss of a phone.
Worth the traffic jams.
Worth the drama and the kids complaining and the two day old undies.
Worth it for spending time with special friends and renewing aquaintances.
Worth it for walking by the beach, licking gelato.
Worth it for the memories, the laughs, the conversation.
That's why we do it, in spite of the drama, aye?
♥