Dress, Memory - or, not a book review.

My primary school years were unbelievably formative.  I went to the same school from pre-school right through to Year 7, and my memories of that time are so vivid, so so vivid. Is that weird? Part of me wants to say that the people I went to primary school with made me who I am today.  But I think that might be hyperbole.  What with parents and relatives and high school and uni and motherhood and work and whatnot doing their level best to mould me like unwilling plasticine since 1992.

Still, it isn't over the top to say that, at least for me, the people I was devoted to in primary school had a lasting influence on me.  I think of them often.  I see them sometimes.  I still remember their birthdays.

When we were in primary school, my friends and I were all interested in reading and writing.  We used to read and act out sections of Roald Dahl novels for our reluctant classmates.  Or at least that's how I remember it.

Whenever I see them, particularly my old best friend A, I can see how we influenced each other, even today. I think grown ups, and parents, underestimate the power those first friendships have on you.  Sometimes when I think of P starting school, and forming those early, firm, fast attachments, I feel kind of a pang.  

One of those little girls from my past has grown up to become a writer. A very good one.  A clever, talented, lovely one.  Her name is Lorelei and she has written a book called Dress, Memory, which is a memoir of her 20s, using one dress from her amazing and enormous vintage dress collection, per decade.

I pre-ordered the book, and got it delivered, signed, with a loving message inside. I devoured it in one day.  The book is based on a blog by the same name but is quite different. It is funny, and lovely, and captures all the ANGST and broken hearts and weird shit that goes down in your 20s when you can't work out who the HECK you are and what on earth you are supposed to be doing with yourself.  I for one had a relatively TUMULTUOUS time in my 20s, love affair wise and friend wise and life choices wise and by GOD I am glad not to be there any more.

It was a bit strange to be reading this book because it felt weirdly like it was part of my story too.  Since going to different high schools, Lorelei and I have dipped in and out of each other's lives, mostly staying in contact due to her diligence and commitment to our old friendship, and more recently her unwavering support of my  embryonic writing "career" haha. Pretty much all those girls I was friends with went to the local Lutheran private school, but I went to the state high school.  I missed them, and was jealous of what I perceived to be their continued closeness. It was strange to read their story from another perspective, because I remember bits and pieces, and stories she told, but never the back story, never the full picture. I've always been slightly in awe of her artistic lifestyle and interesting social network, and embarrassed of my suburban existence, but reading it made me realise WE ARE ALL WEIRDOS WHO KNOW NOTHING.  So many of the anecdotes and emotions were familiar to me. VERY FAMILIAR! Oh god THE YOUNG, HEY, THEY KNOW NOTHING, NOTHING I TELL YOU!

I went to the book launch at Avid Reader. We all wore our own "Dress, Memories". I donned my darling dead Nana's tartan skirt in honour of the occasion.

 

It was a great and emotional night. I went with my cousin B and my almost-cousin K.  We got pretty emo.  There were tears and we remembered the olden days when we used to share a house and each others clothes. WHERE  HAS THE TIME GONE PEOPLE WHERE HAS IT GONE?

I have a lot of feelings about this book that it's hard to express, but mainly, I am just so thrilled and proud of my old dear friend for writing it. It's beautiful, clever, charming, and eloquent.  Just like her.

Everyone should immediately click on this link and purchase it POST HASTE.

Bedtime routines.

M was at a conference in Sydney last week so I was getting my single parent on.

OK, ok, so maybe I called in the help of my mother, like the sook that I am.

No mum is an island, right? Certainly not I.

Even, I, super bedtime routine person, become challenged in the face of flying solo during the witching hour.

 Despite being a naturally scatterbrained individual with a virtually routine-free (aka disorganised) child rearing habit, I have always maintained a strong commitment to a finely tuned bedtime routine.
These days, mostly it works. Except when it doesn't, if you get my drift.

Anyway, this is what I do.

1. Cook dinner while kids are watching TV. B still doesn't really watch TV, I am trying to encourage it. For a while there I got excited about the concept of sending P to a Steiner school, until I read that they discourage television viewing because it discourages imagination. They can shove it. Imagination is not something my girl lacks *gets bossed around by 4-year old, wears costume, plays Kangaroo mummies*.

2. Serve dinner at 5pm. Kids eat/throw/smear it.

3. 5.30pm. Bathtime for B. It took me freaking ages to develop a proper bathing system for both of the kids when B was born, but now they are a bit older I tend to do them separately. P watches more ABC2. God bless it.

4. 5:45pm. Get B out. Jammies on. Goes out to say goodnight to P. She ignores him because TV!

5. I read him a story. He has three that he chooses from every single night, sometimes we read all three. They are "Each Peach Pear Plum", "Peepo", and one called "Toddle Waddle".

6. Then he has a drink of water, I turn the light off, and I stand rocking him and singing his regular lullaby which is this song that Dad used to sing - it goes like this;
                    
                       Ally bally, ally bally bee
                       Sitting on your mummy's knee
                      Waiting for a wee bobby
                      To buy some Coulter's candy....

This is B's favourite lullaby, but some of our other classic bedtime hits also come from Dad.  Here's one old faithful;

                    Well me Ma, she said to me
                    Would yer like a cuppa tea?
                    I said, no no.
                    I want cocoa
                    Down in the glen...

I have argued with him that the last line seems incongruous and that it sits uncomfortably with me. Surely it should be something like "Down by the sea", which would rhyme with "tea"? But he asserts that his version is correct, as his father sang it to him.

Another chart topper is;

                Wee Johnny's lost his marleys
                Wee Johnny's lost his marleys
                Wee Johnny's lost his marleys
                Down by the Linfield Way.

               He lost them down the gratin'
               He lost them down the gratin'
              He lost them down the gratin'
              Down by the Linfield Way

And so forth. Mum says that when Dad used to sing this to us as children, it was Wee Sammy who had lost his marleys, but Dad denies it. Also, he didn't lose them in a potato gratin, rather down the GRATING, but with the G cut off. That is very important for the FEEL of the song. Also, marleys are marbles. Obviously.

OK, back to the routine.

7. 6 - 6:30pm. After singing the song, I put B down in his cot and say "Night night, love you." These days he often say "Nigh, nigh" back. Sweet.

8. 6:30pm - P in bath. Usually have to drag her screaming from the TV.

9. 6:45pm. Jammies on. Read her a story. She takes about twenty years to choose one. She doesn't have a particular favourite.

10. I lie on her bed and sing her a lullaby. Since she was a newborn baby I have sung Edelweiss to her. I suppose this is probably a weird choice, what with its associations with the Anschluss and the von Trapps escaping Nazi persecution and what not but it was the first one that came to mind back in the day when P was tiny.  We have done the hardcore hard yards with P. She has been an erratic sleeper and has gone through stages where I had to hold her door shut while she screamed and yelled at me at bedtime. Calming. These days we have it down pat. Yay. That's not to say she doesn't creep out a few times and scare the life out of me when she's supposed to be asleep, but truly she is mostly pretty good. TOUCH WOOD OMG!

What does your bedtime routine look like? Do you keep the kids up til 10pm and go to sleep on the couch with them? Do you lie on the floor until they drift off to sleep, waking stiff and uncomfortable hours later? Do you all pile in together? It's a broad church. What's good for the goose ain't necessarily good for the gander. Many hands make light work. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. I could go on with the meaningless idioms, but I won't.

Bon nuit fair readers!