The end of an era

Photo by Jamie Templeton on Unsplash

I keep randomly bursting in to tears.

"So what's new?" I hear you ask.

Yeah, I admit, I cry over bloody everything (except my kids starting school for some reason). But these last few days I have been in floods of tears as it is the last week I will ever live in this house. We are saying goodbye to Casa de Glow.

While we will still technically own it for a month or so (anyone wanna buy it?), we are bidding a very fond farewell to a home that is full of so many memories.

The memories are not just these past eleven years that we have lived here, they go back much further.

See, the house our children were brought home to, and took their first steps in, is also the house I was brought home to and took my first steps in. I will go so far as to say the house my kids were conceived in is also the same house I was conceived in... and now you have that visual in your head, you're welcome. Ew.

My parents built this house in the 1970s, and when we moved out in the 1980s they kept it as a rental property. Thanks, War Services Home Loans.

When MG and I were looking to purchase our first house, my Dad suggested we buy this place off them. In all its 70s glory; purple tiles, yellow benchtops, and brown wallpaper. So we did. It wasn't the best house, and it wasn't in the best suburb, but it was going to be a foot in the real estate door.

I have memories of birthday parties here; of playing bicycle taxis in the backyard; of Santa coming up the street every year and throwing lollies from the back of a ute; of first day of school photos being taken in the backyard; of sitting on my Nanna's lap at the dining table; being with my other grandparents outside at Christmas. Sure there are some not so fabulous memories, but the passage of time has firmly cemented rose coloured glasses over them.

Over the years we remodelled the whole place. It no longer looks like it does in my memories. Firstly, we ripped out the kitchen and bathroom to put in a more functional (and yes, waaaay more aesthetically pleasing version). We overhauled the bedroom with a fully customised his and hers walk in wardrobe with hidden shoe storage that would make many a clotheshorse foam at the mouth.

Then four years ago, we added a major extension. We got the call telling us of our final council approval as I was labouring in the dining room (though I didn't think I was in labour at the time), and the bobcats rolled in when Bobbin was only four days old.

The little cupboard sized house with cardboard box sized bedrooms was transformed in to an open plan home with generous bedrooms, an extra bathroom (complete with bathtub so big I could almost float in it), toilet, and a walk in linen cupboard that was the envy of everyone who saw it... and a lot of people saw it because I would squeal "YOU HAVE TO SEE MY LINEN CUPBOARD!" whenever we had visitors. You know you're an adult when you place a high value on a fabulous linen cupboard.

We added a massive patio. And I mean massive. Because the house was still technically small (although it now felt huge to us!), the patio became an outdoor room. The kids would be out there no matter what the weather was like because it offered so much protection, and with the big screen MG installed, it was the perfect place for outdoor movies nights with friends and neighbours.

Bit by bit we transformed the back yard with turf, veges, natives and trees that are now established and bearing tonnes of fruit. We poured our hearts, souls, sweat (mostly MG's), tears (mostly mine) and a fuck tonne of money in to this place. And now we're leaving.

My mind swirls so continuously these days I'm reaching for sea sickness tablets. Was it a waste to renovate this place? Are we making a terrible mistake by moving? What privileged worries I have.

But I keep packing. Because, well, it's a bit bloody late to change our minds now with settlement due, oh, TOMORROW!

I am not the only one who is sentimental about crap like this, but I've never done anything quite as momentous selling my childhood home, so other than stopping to have a cry every now and then, I'm not sure what else I can do. Any suggestions, including taking a teaspoon of cement, would be most welcome.

For now, I'll keep packing, and keep my fingers crossed that after complaining right now about how I'm sad to sell it, that it will actually sell fast! So, um, yeah, anyone wanna buy a house?

Easy DIY Rocket Packs

My gorgeous little nephew turned one yesterday. ONE! *Insert OMG how does time move so fast sentiments here*

On the weekend he's having his first birthday party and it's SPACE themed. If you know me at all, you'll know I love a themed party! So what could I do when my kids were invited to an out of this world shin dig? DIY Rocket Packs! BOOYAH!

A quick glympse at Pinterest (collating the best bits from a few different styles) and I knocked up these bad boys in an afternoon.

You'll need:

• two empty soft drink bottles (thanks to that shape, everyone can tell ours are from Coke)
• gaffa tape (ours was silver)
• silver spray paint
• red, orange and yellow felt
• scissors
• marker
• hot glue gun

1. Spray your empty, dry bottles with paint - I put mine on sticks and stuck them in the garden so I could spray the whole thing without touching it. Leave it to dry for as long as the instructions on the paint say... don't take it off early or you'll get silver all over you. ASK ME HOW I KNOW!
2. While the paint is drying, figure out what shape you want your flames to be and draw a rough outline on the felt with a marker. Leave a tab at the end so that you can easily glue it to the bottom of the rocket later.
3. Cut out the first shape and use it as a template for the next. Keep going until you have the three layers (or two, up to you!).
4. Using a hot glue gun (and not burning off your fingerprints like I did), glue the layers of flame together. I went right to the tip of each flame because I know my kids would pick them apart if they were loose.
5. When your bottles are dry, tape them together using your gaffa tape. If you can't find silver tape, do this step before you spray them so that you don't have to do it all again.
6. When everything is dry, place more hot glue on the tab and push it in to the neck of the bottle, pressing down firmly until the glue sets. 
7. To create straps, pull out two lengths of gaffa tape and fold each in half length ways so that they are now silver strips, and thread them through the gap where you secured the bottles together. If it doesn't fit through, add another piece of tape. To secure them on to the kids you can either tie the strips together in a knot, or use a small piece of tape to fasten them all together, much like a four point harness. This worked best for my robust lot. 

It's that easy! And you can sing the Mr Maker theme song the whole time like I did, if you want!

If you can't be bothered with all the felt and burning of fingers, then you could easily substitute crepe paper, or even draw a flame on cardboard and let your kids colour it in.

My two zoomed around the yard and went for giant space walks (on the trampoline) for about an hour before I pulled the plug and said they had to keep them in one piece so we could wear them to the party! At which point they cried and I yelled, and it was bath time and OMG don't be so ungrateful I just made you a kickass jet pack. Kids, hey? 

Strawberry Fields Forever

I remember going strawberry picking in Perth with my mum and sister, way back in the day. We'd get in the car and drive forever to this insanely remote strawberry farm, I'm talking middle of nowhere. Or, at least that is how it seemed to us at the time, because there was nothing around - these days, it's tilt-up city right up to the farm gates as Perth sprawls and spreads.

My Facebook feed has been full of people picking strawberries lately, and with all the memories rushing back, I just had to get in to it and take the kids these school holidays.

As if she was reading my mind, my bestie was about to take her boys, so we went together. MG, me, Tricky, Bobbin, a preggo Mrs O, and her boys L and B. I had visions of us having a fabulous morning out together, but I underestimated the crankiness of a tired toddler who doesn't particularly like the wind on the windiest day ever. 

We rocked up to T & H Holl & Son Strawberry Farm on Badgerup Road, Gnangara at 9:30am, grabbed an empty box for $5 and proceeded up the hill to fill it! The boxes don't look that big, but strawberries are small and it will hold around 3kg of them.

Look for this sign and a big shed with T&H Holl & Son

Fat, juicy strawberries hung heavy on lush green plants all around us and the air smelled sweet. It was heaven. We couldn't wait to get started so the boys ran up the hill ahead of us all. The best strawberries were in the far corner - possibly because some people couldn't be bothered walking that far, but we were on a mission so we did it!

Super sandy! 

My lot were in gumboots because the weather bureau had forecasted rain and a friend had told us it was very sandy. The weather turned out beautiful for us, but the gumboots were still great - my two didn't have any sand in their shoes at all. Winning!

Bobbin complained incessantly about the wind, and demanded to be held in the carrier most of the time... except we didn't bring the carrier because, oh, we were meant to be bloody picking strawberries! I really thought she'd be in to it - she was eating enough at first to give that impression, but soon got tired and whinge, moan, grizzle. 

 

The boys had a great time and most of their conversations were:

"We picked one thousand strawberries!"

"Well we picked a million!"

"I mean we picked a billion!"

"Actually we picked INFINITY strawberries!"

Ahh, five year olds. 

The farm isn't open every day because the strawberries need a chance to ripen and buggers like us keep on going and picking them, but finding out when you can pick your own is like pulling teeth. The owners, although lovely, weren't sure when the next strawberries would be ready.

They have pre-picked boxes for sale there, too, so on days when you can't pick your own you can still buy. The "jam boxes" are $2 and have about 2kg of sub-optimal strawberries in them... although they looked pretty damn optimal to me. They also have drinks available for a few dollars if all that pickin' gets you hot, and when we were there they had local garlic for sale.

Tricks was so happy pottering around, trying to find the best strawberries and took great pride in helping me make jam when we got home. Which means I only have 2.6kg of strawberries left... um, what should I make next?

. . . ___ . . . ___ . . .

Other places to pick strawberries in Perth:

Ti Strawberry Farm - 263 Old West Road Bullsbrook. I haven't been there but my friends highly recommend it. They're open every day of the school holidays and charge a per person entry fee on top of the box fee. You're still getting a cheap and healthy activity.