With the Rugby World Cup being held here at the moment, our household is currently rugby-mad. Well, even more so than usual. In the spirit of all things rugby, Grace tried her hand at supporter face paint. The results of which no amount of Napisan could budge from the white collar.

Hard to tell which team she was going for with this colour scheme. And for future reference, green face-paint is equally difficult to remove from skin. Three days later Grace's face still bears a sickly green tinge despite repeated scrubbing.

Then there was the small matter of the flag raising. 

Which, I'm relieved to say, did not end as I had feared when I first watched Bern climb that tree with a saw hanging from his belt, egged on by his little supporters. Or the second time, when he had to lop a few more branches that were stopping the flag from flying in all its glory. Or the third time, when the flag got snagged and didn't fly at all. Or the fourth. Or the fifth. Get the picture?

As the World Cup has progressed there have been lots of shenanigans...

monumental hangovers...

dedicated supporters... 

and, of course, just  a bit of rugby.

And with the All Blacks playing France in the upcoming final, I have no doubt there will be a whole lot more of the aforementioned antics before this World Cup is finished.

This weekend we drove down to Invercargill to hand-deliver Aunty Katharine's birthday present, which Grace made almost entirely by herself. 

We had a wonderful time with Katharine and Donald, who made us a lovely lunch and patiently endured our over-excited children and their heart-felt piano and accordion playing which made me happy we haven't bought a piano just yet, even if the musicians were cute....

Then it was off to the Cochran's farm, where the daffodils were out, my favourite avenue of trees were in blossom, and lambing was in full swing.

While we were there, we traded some of our sheep..... 

for one of theirs. Which won't be eaten. Meet Rosie, Grace's new love.

 

Ever since we house-sat for the Cochrans back in January, Grace has talked non-stop about their sheep. And has begged us for one of her own. We even bought a house with enough land for one. Luckily for Grace, Katrina has been on the lookout for a suitable lamb (ie. tough, unbreakable, tolerant....) since lambing began, just for her. So thanks to the Cochrans, her wish has come true.

As always, Grace and Charlie had a wonderful time with the Cochran girls. There were lots of hungry lambs to be fed (which Charlie insisted on calling 'cats' and then mooed at)....

more lambs to be born...

 

sheep to be moved....

lots and lots of trailer rides to be had....

sheep to be fed....

and sheep biscuits to eat.

All squeezed in 24 hours. Phew! Thank you Paul, Katrina, Sophie, Emma and Lily for giving us Rosie, and for letting us 'help' with lambing.!

Can you guess what we're picking up tomorrow?

Both Charlie and Grace have been sick with a vomiting bug this week,  so we've had lots and lots (and lots) of this. 

Which upset our Fathers Day present shopping plans, so Bern had to be content with a sleep-in this morning, pancakes for breakfast and spending a lovely day with his kids in the garden instead. Much better than any old present.

Happy Fathers Day Nernie! 

Katharine and Donald recently returned from the Cook Islands, bringing back with them Charlie's first ever Hawaiian-style shirt....

and Grace's first grass skirt. Which she tried on immediately.

Something tells me this isn't the traditional way to wear a grass skirt. But then I think Grace's version is a whole lot more fun, don't you?

This afternoon Grace's class put on another performance. And this time, I was there. In fact, I was so determined not to be late that Charlie and I arrived too early. So we snuck in and watched them get ready.

They sang The Gumboot Song which was very entertaining, and I was so proud of her. And she was just a bit chuffed when she spotted us in the audience.

 

 

Gumboots, they are wonderful, gumboots, they are swell
'coz they keep out the water and they keep in the smell.
And when you're sittin' round at home, you can always tell
When one of them has taken off his gumboots.

If it weren't for your gumboots, where would ya be?
You'd be in the hospital or infirmary
'coz you would have a dose of the 'flu, or even pleurisy
If ya didn't have yer feet in yer gumboots.

Now there's rugby boots and racing boots and boots for drinkin' rum.
But the only boots I'm never without are the ones that start with "gum".
I've got short ones and long ones and some up to me belt.
I'm never dressed 'till I've got on me gumboots.

If it weren't for your gumboots, where would ya be?
You'd be in the hospital or infirmary
'coz you would have a dose of the 'flu, or even pleurisy
If ya didn't have yer feet in yer gumboots.

Whenever I sing at the opera, my gumboots are a must.
They help me hit the high notes, and protect me feet from dust.
They keep the water well away, so me voice won't get no rust.
You will not never see me without me gumboots.

If it weren't for your gumboots, where would ya be?
You'd be in the hospital or infirmary
'coz you would have a dose of the 'flu, or even pleurisy
If ya didn't have yer feet in yer gumboots.

Now Rob Muldoon and Rowling, they haven't made a hit.
They're ruining the country more than just a bit.
If they keep on the way they're going, we'll all be in the...
So you'd better get yer feet up yer gumboots.

I have spent most of this week feeling like I was one step behind. On Monday I got the time wrong for Grace's first school assembly performance and missed the entire thing. On Tuesday I forgot to send in her library book so she missed out on borrowing from the town library's book bus (a very big deal when you're five). On Wednesday I forgot to pay for her school's cupcake fundraiser, so Grace was the only one in her class who didn't get a cupcake. Plus Charlie and I got locked out of the house, and then he was sick pretty much all last night, so today I had to wash five changes of bedding, blankets and pajamas. And it started to snow. On the first day of Spring.

So it is not an exaggeration to say that I felt pretty miserable/sleep deprived/guilty today. But baking Grace her very own little cupcakes did cheer me up. Raspberry, her favourite. With crushed raspberry icing. Her second favourite.

They may not make up for everything I forgot this week, or for her sadness of being cupcake-less at school, but she loved them. And apparently I'm the 'Best Mummy Ever'. Which I'm not. But at least she thinks so.

PS. I went to make myself a cuppa tonight and discovered these. Grace obviously decided that our two little bantam eggs were lacking character.

Each day before we leave to take Grace to school, the children race down to say good morning to the 'girls'. 

Who now, much to Bern's disgust, are now known as Mrs Bennett from Pride & Prejudice (did her character ever remind anyone else of a neurotic mother hen?), Little One and Sweetsies (Grace's choices). 

Then, as soon as Grace has changed into her play clothes after school, they are both back down at the hen house, chatting away to the hens. Who usually cower in the corner. 

This afternoon, however, we managed to have a little pat. Although the cock-a-oodles (as Charlie insists on calling them) were not terribly impressed with all the attention they received.

But we may have scared one of them more than we realised. Guess what we found this evening when Grace and I went down to feed them?

Our first egg. 

This week we won two Silver Pencilled Pekin bantams on TradeMe.  Before we had built their accommodation. Talk about putting the horse before the cart. Or, more accurately, the chickens before the hen house.

 

So guess what we spent the weekend frantically building? Luckily for us, there was an old wooden glasshouse frame at the bottom of our yard. Which has been given a new lease of life courtesy of Bern and Grace.

It's not quite finished yet but our three new feathered friends (when we went to pick up the hens we were given another one for free) were so traumatised by their small but enthusiastic welcoming committee that they didn't seem to mind one bit. 

After a baking disaster courtesy of the oven being opened repeatedly by an impatient kitchen hand who shall not be named, what was meant to be a lovely cake for Bern's birthday today flopped. Literally. In a very big way. So what was meant to be a layer cake quickly became a bombe alaska, courtesy of my good friend Donna Hay. Vanilla icecream in the middle, followed by a layer of (salvaged) chocolate cake, finished with thick meringue. Sounds crazy, putting an icecream-filled cake in the oven to brown the meringue, but miraculously it worked. 
 

Definitely not the prettiest birthday cake around. But our taste-testers were happy. And so was the birthday boy. Happy Birthday honey!!

Guess who received her first merit certificate at assembly today?!

This was the view from our kitchen window this morning. Makes dragging yourself out of bed on cold mornings worth it.

Almost.