one hundred and seventy three

 

We never get our delivery of the Noosa News, so I am so very grateful I grabbed a copy from near my coffee spot this morning. And that I got to see my sweet angel’s face when I showed her what I discovered. Her name in print. She thought her offering in class had been chosen for the school newsletter, not for the local paper. Her delight was almost palpable and I am truly grateful to her teachers for her sweet sweet moment. Maybe next time she’ll listen in class too. And Kate was proud of her too, even though she is planning a career in journalism and damn if her baby sister hasn’t beaten her to it.

bugger that

We had an interesting moment yesterday. Well, I thought it was. It interests me how subtly the girls are changing. Kate had a secondary music recital thing … we as parents were asked to bring something along for afternoon tea. Because I always was the woman in “I don’t know how she does it“, Alison Pearson’s book, not the movie, cos I loved the book and hated the movie, except I never pretended my shop bought cakes and cookies and things were homemade (I never had enough time and quite frankly didn’t give a damn). Anyway, so I thought I would make something for Kate to take (not sure whether to absolve my latent guilt or because I’m bored) … and I thought I would do those fab cheese puffs from Lynn’s mom that both my girls love. Kate was horrified. Why are we taking anything? We’ll be the only ones. And anyway why can’t you just buy a packet of biscuits? And if you (must) make something why does it have to be something South African with melted bovril (didn’t have marmite, Lynn) and butter drizzled over fabulously crisp cheese scones with a soft melted cheesy centre.  I mean, nobody here knows bovril. It will be weird. Ergo I will be weird. I will be noticed. I will stand out and god forbid that happens. So, I settled on shop bought donuts, which I did arrange on a lovely muted 70’s green serviette and serving platter. Thank god for the other mum who brought the dainty tray of cupcakes or else I would have been the only one and then could you imagine how mortified my daughter would have been. What is with that? Is it a secondary we’re so cool thing, or is it a “don’t stand out” australian thing or is it a combination?? And why does nobody bring anything in? Is it just a we couldn’t be bothered who really cares kind of thing? Well, stuff it, we will still bring in our offerings, no matter how depleted. Because that’s us. And damn my girls need to be proud to stand up. Even if they are the only ones. And anyway, my donuts were eaten within seconds.