Deco-muse.

My small lady has become my muse.

So much more fun to dress her than me!

So much more fun to decorate her room than mine (at the great expense of ours).

It is devastating to me that our most recent addition to the family is blue, not pink. Devastating, in that so many beautiful things are a one-time only wear. There will be no recipient down the line.

Have decided to hang them instead, what once was, can now be art!

The power of two.

I do not understand how a two-year old can wield so much power over her universe.

How? She is not even 100cm high.

We are having a hell of a time. If I was to relay events of recent weeks in a visual montage with a soundtrack, some of the following images would be sourced:

• Her using all her mini-strength to lift a gerry-can into the shopping trolley while hapless mother searches for toilet paper 
• Her waving her teachers away at school as they try to write her name on her painting <fade in voice over of her yelling "it's not your painting, it's MINE">
• Her four limbs gripping onto me as the teachers pull her off at the beginning of a school day
• The 'love' towards her young sibling which thinly veils her real feelings, and usually ends in some form of mild assault on the baby
• Her sitting on the bathroom floor, unwrapping pads, removing adhesive strips, then sticking them on the floor while helpless mother looks on in the background, with breastfeeding baby attached
• A little hand throwing a handful of eclipse mints into a full bath
• A little lady sitting on her red and yellow mini toilet seat <fade in voice over of her yelling "Daddy I want PRIVACY!">
• A little hand pulling buttons off her dress <fade in voice over of "Mummy, sew my buttons back on!">
• A shot of Mummy pouring wine into a generic looking tumbler with clock in background to indicate 4.10pm
• A repeat of gerry-can shot, as to be honest it was pretty goddamned funny, even to me
• Final shot of sleeping angel cuddling Miffy in bed, which always creates parental amnesia regarding the day's events.

Backing track: You can't always get what you want (for shots of parents despairing) and Superfreak (for all images of toddler crime)

Loser of the week goes to:

The 'man' who thought it okay to beat up a woman in the middle of the day at one of the busiest, most public intersections in Port Moresby causing a massive traffic build up and slowing down/confusing all public transport.

So disgusting.

There was nothing I could have done, but I did wonder if perhaps one of the many burly guys who were casually waiting for their bus and looking on might have been able to assist? No, of course not. Endemic.

As we drove past the scene I started talking to my two year old passenger, desperately trying to avert attention to the other side of the car (successful!). I looked at the bus stop one last time, and saw a little boy around the same age, sitting there with his grandmother with front row seats. Totally non-plussed. Even they were nothing more than casual onlookers.

In sum: very happy I live in a parallel universe.

Grizzle spreads.

Two screaming kids before breakfast (mine, not theirs) really has a way of sapping the life out of a Monday morning.

Not that I had much 'life' to begin with - our baby woke up hourly for one reason or another from 12am-6am, and then when a window of rest finally opened, the our two year old lady arrived in our bed for company, and to issue me with some demands, eg 'Mummy don't feed the baby', 'Mummy he doesn't need to be on your lap' etc etc.

In any case - I was and remain ready to abandon the family temporarily for a quick trip to Tahiti should my sleep remain so interrupted and my kids so grizzly. What else is there to do?

The breadwinner left nervously for work this morning and whispered ' ...You can't leave .... I don't know what to do.'

I like his honesty. And it is probably the only thing anyone has said to me this morning that approaches funny.

So I'll stay. At least until lunch.

tent time

Impounded ... year #3.

We're back.

Back amongst the razor wire, noxious fumes from burning tires over the fence, guards at the gate, and the endless soundtrack of the leafblower.

It's great to be here!

Really.

Three months on the outside, and a newborn baby has refreshed my perspective on compound living to a degree I never would have imagined possible. I now find myself returning to life here as one of the people I used to never quite understand - still happy to be here in the third year. My mind used to boggle. Now I get it.

It's nice to have predictable and easy days with not that much to do and nowhere to really go. The limitations of life mean I don't have to straighten/style my hair, wear makeup, iron clothes and have two loads of washing on the go by 9am every day. Now I just make sure to look nice by 5.30pm to greet my husband when he returns from his busy day at the office.

My kids no doubt appreciate not being dragged in and out of various harnesses all day as they are ferried around wherever I need to go, and I am saving a hell of a lot of money by stamping out our daily cafe lifestyle. The time in Australia with our girl has made some marked changes to her world view though.

For example - last night she made 'tea' for us from her tea set. Her daddy-o asked what his was when she gave it to him .. "A latte"... what kind ... "soy" ... how many sugars ... "two". Correct.

Later we were making play-doh. As she cut out the letter 'W', I asked her what letter it was. "Big W!" she said proudly. How/when this became her favourite store/thing to do/place to visit in Australia is unclear to me. As parents, we feel we have failed her. Why not David Jones? When we asked her why, she told us she went there for "the undies". Don't we all.

Tomorrow is her first day at school. I hope she's going to be okay, but let's be honest. It is me more likely to fall to pieces at the school gate. Yesterday she got her first school bag, it goes from the top of her neck to the back of knees. Ridiculous and heartbreaking all at the same time. School can only be a good thing though, the sight of her numbly opening and closing cupboard doors all day long in the kitchen rings a few alarm bells regarding the need for a bit more stimulation in her life.

And with the onset of a screaming baby and a bored two year old plonked on my lap (to celebrate screaming baby and prevent me from getting up) - that's a wrap for now!

Out.

Panda and my taxes.

I must admit that I had a little chuckle when I watched a news interview last night with one of the partners of the Sea Shepherd dudes who was detained on the Japanese whaling ship. For starters her name was 'Panda', and for second-starters, she had feathers coming out of her hair in the most hilarious manner, and thirdly - her crochet top and tattoos made it hard for me to hear her argument as anything beyond what I might have heard from the 19 year old selling Green Left Weekly at Sydney Uni in 1995.

My point: Taking yourself seriously is one thing, but if you want the world to follow suit .... maybe you should consider wearing a suit. They are generic and capitalist of course, but they have an incredible power to neutralise appearance which isn't always such a bad thing, 'Panda'.

I'm not exactly working at the moment, but if I was - I don't know how I feel about my taxpayer dollars funding the rescue mission for Australian hippy pirates. How do the highly trained Customs dudes feel about the trip to the Southern Ocean to rescue some detained dreadlocks? Not sure.

God, I am sounding a bit right wing. Must be all the cricket I've watched on Channel 9. Hope to rebalance soon.