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Today, Tiger and I got lost.
Not deliberately. Not in a sort of Zen "losing oneself in order to find oneself" sort of mumbo jumbo.
We got actually, terribly, horribly, no-good-ly lost. In Launceston. Yes, Launcestonians, I can hear you all snorting with derision into your cups of Earl Grey (or Darjeeling or Orange Pekoe. I don't know why I picked Earl Grey. Maybe just because I don't like it, so I think all people who snort with derision must drink it). I mean, how can you get lost in Launceston? It's approximately as big as the backyards of people who live in the richer suburbs of Sydney. It's miniscule. It barely deserves the title of city. Really, it's a one-horse town with delusions of grandeur.
And, indeed, after living here for a total of six years (with a spell in Hobart in between stays), I didn't think it was possible. I thought I knew this town like the back of my hand.
Nope. Got lost. Even with the help of Google Maps. Google Maps can eat my bonnet. It has no idea what it's on about.
We were looking for a foodstore, which apparently has one of the best gluten free ranges in Launceston.
It may well do. After forty five minutes of looking for it, as opposed to the twelve Google Useless Mapspants said it would take, traversing some of the highest hills in Australia, I did not care one jot for gluten free sections. I just wanted to go to bed.
But the thing is, Tiger loved it. Tiger had a grand old time, walking up New Streets and seeing New Things. And, on the way back (where there were fewer hills or, at least, ones that went down, not up), I started to enjoy it too. The part of Launceston we were in was actually very pretty, full of old houses and sweet gardens and parks.
It was, I decided, an Adventure. And as Tiger squealed and exclaimed, I found myself having fun being lost. Or at least not quite found yet.
So it was sort of Zen, in its own way, in the end. And maybe symbolic. In my own life, I'm trying to take a path less travelled by. Maybe today I took the first steps. I got lost and I let myself enjoy the newness of being lost; the wonder of it all.
Tiger does that to you. She makes you believe in magic. And possibility. And hope.
It's a shame she doesn't come with built-in Google Maps.
~ Love, Miss Cackle x
It's all too easy to get bogged down in the little things - in the petty minutiae of life.
It's all too easy to focus on the annoying, frustrating things. The stresses and the worries. The not-enoughs and the too-muches.
It's too easy to think life is hard and the days are long and the rewards are too few.
But the days aren't too long. Life, it seems, is far, far too short. And the ones we hold dear are only with us for the blink of an eye.
Parenthood has its trials and its challenges. But, in the end, it's an utter privilege. To love and be loved by a precious, precious little human being - new to the world and besotted with its wonders. This is the most marvellous gift we could ever be given. Not money. Not possessions. Not achievements. To love someone like this ... it's what matters. Love is what matters.
And it's easy to forget that, in this busy world, as you run from this place to that, wishing life could just be easier.
And then something happens - something horrible - that makes you remember just how lucky you are.
That something horrible happened today. Not to me, but to someone I've known for a long time. Someone I respect. Someone who has gone through the most unimaginable horrors and is the most courageous person I know for enduring them.
And because of that, I am counting my blessings, not my curses. I am holding my own little one close and telling her how much I love her again and again.
Every day I am grateful for Tiger. Today more so than ever.
Hold your little ones close, people. Hold everyone you love close. Because life is very, very short and it is those moments you have with the people you love that are the abiding things.They are the meaning of us.
~ Love, Miss Cackle x
Tiger has discovered her tongue.
Or, more specifically, she has discovered how to stick it out.
The first time she did it, I called HB in a panic, sure she was having some sort of anaphylaxis and her tongue was too big to fit in her mouth. We decided to "keep an eye on her", just in case. After an hour or so, we determined she wasn't having an allergic reaction.
She just liked sticking her tongue out.
Since then, the tongue business has become a "thing", like her constant waving and smacking of lips together to make a kissing noise (cute when she does it to us, a bit disconcerting when she does it to the scary looking biker dude in the alleyway behind the Birchalls car park). It's just one of the ever-growing little bag of tricks she is developing.
And I know, I KNOW it is "rude to stick your tongue out", but by golly she looks cute when she does it, and I can't help being a teensy bit proud at how quickly she worked out that I was doing the same thing she was doing, when I stuck my tongue back out. And so now we stick our tongues out at each other.
And I swear I will stop when she's, I don't know, whatever age you're supposed to start being a strict disciplinarian. But for now - just as I hold yelling competitions and laugh at her pop-offs and when she says "bum" - I'm going to keep doing it. Because I may be thirty-one, but I still laugh at pop-offs. I still take great pleasure at poking my tongue out behind the backs of nasty people. I still, on occasion, pick my nose.
And I turned out okay. Kindness is vastly underrated. I think, sometimes, "politeness" is overrated. If the alternative is fun.
And Tigesy and I? By golly we have fun. And it's lovely.
~ Love, Miss Cackle x
Mama never told me there'd be days like this.
Some days are easy. Some days are zen-like, calm, unassuming, floaty, sunshiney, Xavier Rudd song kinda days, where's everything goes smoothly and according to a plan, if you have one, or blissful, carefree, no-plan, if that's the way you roll.
Other days are like today.
Other days are new strollers that don't want to work and bus drivers who berate you because the new stroller won't work and other mothers who tell you you shouldn't be using a stroller at all and others who chastise you for not getting one sooner.
Other days are a pounding headache and a sad little teethy child and a blown lounge room light globe and a whining cat and washing left too long on the line so it goes damp again and a lost favourite teethy toy and a spilled drink and a stubbed toe and a STROLLER THAT WON'T FIT IN THE FRONT DOOR.
Strange days indeed.
But, at the end of it all, there is Tiger, and there is Bear and there is a Xavier Rudd CD on the CD player, and she smiles and giggles and he hugs me and Xavier is ... well, how can you be stressed while listening to Tiger?
And besides, we are only specks in an enormous universe, and our problems are dust and ash and tomorrow is a new day.
~ Love, Miss Cackle x
* Most peculiar, mama.
Today, Tiger ate a sammitch.
"No big deal!" I hear you cry! "For Tiger hath eaten many a sammitch hitherto, and during, her Little Existence!" (And no, I don't know why you are all speaking in pseudo-Shakespearen dialects. But this is my blog. And so I decree it so).
This sammitch was different, though. This sammitch was not a prepared-by-Mummy homemade job.
OH NO!
This sammitch was a prepared-by-some-other-sammitch-making-person CAFE SAMMITCH!
YES! TIGER DID EAT OF HER LITTLE SELF A CAFE SAMMITCH!
This is a FIRST and also a VERY BIG DEAL.
Of course, it is not the first time Tiger and I have cafe-ed together. Tiger is a veritable connoisseur of cafe culture in Launceston. But this is the first time Tiger has actually eaten a little meal prepared in the cafe. It is the first time she has eaten anything not made by Mummy.
She is now, officially, a Lady Who Lunches.
And, can I say, if you are ever going through Campbell Town (Tasmania), do go to Burger Me. The service was awesome, the food lovely and inexpensive and they had plenty of gluten-free options for me, and were happy to make a Small Person meal of a cheese sandwich for Tiger.
All in all, it was a super lovely day for the Little Family. We caught up with Grandma V (and Tiger was presented with her very first hand-knitted scarf, along with many precious Grandma cuddles), saw ducks, and went to not one but two Big Person eateries (the other was The Red Bridge Cafe), which thrilled Tiger with its many mirrors, fans and other Little People to look at.
It's wonderful being able to have these little trips with Tiger now. She is no longer a baby, but is a Big Girl. Next thing we know, she'll be ordering paella and Wagyu beef and pork belly and duck confit, and remarking on the smooth mouth feel of her creme brulee.
Or she'll be happy just going to a nice cafe that does awesome toasted sammitches. Whatever. Tiger goes her own way.
And it's lovely.
~ Love, Miss Cackle x
Today, Tiger and I were going on a Very Ordinary walk in our Very ordinary city.
As if our wont (or, at least, it WAS - read on *sob*), Tiger was travelling in her Baby Bjorn on my tummy. We've walked together like this ever since Tiny Tiger was big enough to fit in this most wonderfully ergonomic of baby transportation devices (thank you again, a million times, to Auntie N for gifting it to us - you've no idea how valued it has been).
We love the Baby Bjorn because we can cuddle as we walk, and whisper to each other, and I can hold Tiger's tiny hands and she can see the world from an Even Bigger Person's view.
And, up until today, it has been the perfect way for us to move.
But today, something bad happened. Today, as we were on our Very Ordinary walk, crossing a busy street in the middle of the Launceston CBD, when we were hit with quite some force from behind. A woman was racing up the hill, dragging behind her a shopping trolley. The trolley bashed into my legs and I hurtled forward, my feet becoming tangled in the trolley.
I can only thank all the powers of good in the universe that I managed - with some difficulty - to stay upright.
The woman kept running up the hill.
The Tiger Mother within me (and a hefty shot of adrenaline), caused me to scream after her, "You could have killed my baby"!
I then promptly burst into tears.
And it may not be true. Tiger might not have died if I'd fallen forwards with force, but she would have been horribly injured. And the thought of what might have happened if a car had whizzed around that corner, not seeing us sprawled on the road ...
My heart exploded at the thought of it.
And tomorrow, sadly, we are off to buy a stroller.
~ Love, Miss Cackle x
Today, I had my first cringey moment as a mummy.
Don't get me wrong. I know I will have many more in the future and I KNOW I will have many worse. But today was my first. And for that it deserves to be recorded.
Oh and also, it involves monkeys.
So for those of you who don't know, there are monkeys in City Park in Launceston. Japanese Macaques, to be precise. Yes, the ones with the red bottoms.
I grew up longing for and counting down days until trips to Launceston, to see my Auntie Shirley. And to see the monkeys (oh, and to have hot chips at Deloraine. For some reason this was a Very Big Deal). Auntie Shirley never got to meet Tiger (sadly. She would have loved her), but I couldn't wait to show Tiges the monkeys.
Today was not her first meeting with the Macaques. It's something we do on a semi-regular basis. but today was not meant to be a monkey day. Today's trip to the park was a spontaneous let's-get-off-at-this-stop-today whim, and had more to do with my sudden desire to take Tiger down a slide for the first time than doing the monkey thing (why does that sound wrong? Oh, that's right. Read on ...).
And, as an aside, Tiges went down a slide for the first time today. After a little scare when I didn't think we'd make it down the slide at all (Tiger grabbed the rails at the top of the slide and jammed her little feet up against them too, and shook her head, determined she was NOT GOING DOWN THAT THING), we made it and she LOVED it - a surprise to her little self and a joy for me!
But back to the monkeys. And the awkwardness.
So we decided, as we were in the park already, we may as well say G'day to our monkey mates on the way out. It was quite busy at the monkey enclosure today, being school holidays and the day before a public holiday. So there were kids milling, tourists photographing, a group of elderly ladies oohing and aahing.
And me and Tiger.
And I - as is my wont - was narrating the whole scene to my little girl. Perhaps a touch loudly. Tiger has inherited my inability to modulate my speaking volume. It's a family curse.
"See that baby one there?" I exclaimed. "Remember we saw him last time having a drink from his mummy?"
"Look at that one!" I cried. "He's picking bugs off the other monkey there! What a good monkey friend to have! One who picks bugs off you!"
And THEN!
"Look at that one, Tigesy!" I roared. "He's chasing the other monkey! I wonder why he's chasing the other monkey! What could he possibly ... Oh. That's why he's chasing the other monkey. To do ... Okay, we'll talk about that when you're older."
Cue giggles from old ladies, school children and tourists alike, as I turned beetroot red and made a mental note to deal better with animal ... canoodling the next time I encountered it with Tiger.
After all, I will teach her from an early age about sexuality and procreation and the birds and the bees and the - ahem - monkeys. I want her to be informed but ...
Today wasn't the day. Not with an audience of maybe fifty sniggering onlookers.
Today was the day for beating a hasty retreat and planning to talk much more quietly the next time we're in the vicinity of any animals who may or may not experience their natural urges in our presence.
Auntie Shirley would have found it hilarious.
~ Love, Miss Cackle x
