Festival of the West

Summer is the best, especially in the West. This year, I spent the majority of summer at home and I found our days were filled with all the west has to offer. We are so close to all the action. Day trips to Indented Head, Queenscliff and Barwon Heads; boat watching down at Williamstown; food trucks and ace picnics in Yarraville Gardens; bike rides along the beach or through new parks; and two awesome festivals: So Frenchy So Chic at Werribee Park and Portarlington Mussel Festival, both within a short drive from our suburb.

And it’s festival season in the inner west with Lunar New Year on our doorstep and my favourite local event, the Yarraville Festival, is happening this month.

Celebrating its 35^th year, Yarraville Festival on Sunday 7 February is certainly an event to make the journey to (highly recommend by bike, train or walking). The Village shuts off its streets to cars, making way for stall vendors selling everything from puppets to terrariums, paella to choc ripple donuts.

For the kids, Fels Park off Simpson Street is filled with storytime shows, petting zoos and performers all ready to put a smile on your kid’s face.

But I can’t get past the scents coming from the street. As a local, I can smell the aromas of the street stalls from my house from early morning, chargrilling their goodies, toasting up some kind of yummy seed to put into some kind of yummy bread.

Alongside the sweet smell of delicious food you can hear the super sound of bands warming up ready to play to the crowds. This year there are seven stages showcasing the best of the community including my favourite, the Yarraville Mouth Organ Band (you need to see these guys and Instagram the hell out of this gig) and Middle Aged Weirdo. There’s some fresh talent to discover as well including local school bands and rad up and comers on the Freeza stage (my pick is Shewolf – awesome new talent featuring 17 year old triplet sisters and their best buddy).

Over 18? Ace. Collect a beer from Dawsons Cellars and enjoy the main stage with your cold amber liquid. You might even see me busting out some moves in my Mom Jeans with my two-year-old.

Have a two year old? Get a front row seat at the hottest fashion parade in the west. The Dog Parade is a highlight every year with pooches dressed in their finest gear from diamante collars to Buzz Lightyear ensembles. It’s fun – with or without a two year old. Just make sure you share the love on social media to make sure your eastern suburbs buddies come over for the action next year.

The 2016 Yarraville Festival is set to be the biggest yet. Set yourself up for a day of awesomeness. Pack some sunscreen and water and text your pals. Find out more at www.yarravillefestival.com.au

Need to pump yourself up for Yarraville Festival? Here’s my top five songs for this summer.

1.       April Sun in  Cuba – Dragon

2.       Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now – Starship

3.       Daniel – Elton John

4.       Friday on my Mind – Easy Beats

5.       Lazing on a Sunny Afternoon – The Kinks

Would love to know yours. See you at the Festival!

xx

All of these fabulous photos are by the super talented Paul Large, fellow local Yarravillian.
This article first appeared in my column Spun Webb in the February issue of The Westsider. 

Dental teeth

I am trying to teach my son to be gentle.

Last Sunday we went to the Farmer’s Market in Willy for some fresh fruit and grub. The centrally located petting zoo looked like the perfect spot for my kid to test out his gentle patting skills.

                    

We have been here before, quite a few times actually, and the petting zoo owner recognised us saying: “This time, please don’t let your kid open the guinea pig gate. My babies get anxious when they run free.”

We got our little cup of animal seed and instantly my son poured this into his gumboot. He was so disappointed; he pulled off his gumboot and started eating the seeds. The minute he did this all the petted animals came sprinting over to him licking their lips (beaks).

Baby lambs, chickens, bunny rabbits and some tiny furry thing, perhaps a rat, came running at my son pecking him in every location trying to find a grain. My poor son. I reached down and grabbed him and realised he was laughing hysterically. He was enjoying being wrestled by farm creatures, rolling around in their shit with a mouthful of seed.

So I let him go and boy did he squeal. He chased after the animals, running them around in circles like a sheep dog, scarring the bejesus out of them, clapping like a mad man, all the while I’m shouting ‘gentle Alfie, gentle’. It was so joyful to watch, I was able to relax with another mum while our kids ran riot.

Then Alfie started getting rough. He is so obsessed with holes lately, that he realised the hole in the gate allowed him to reach the clasp. So he unlocked the gate. The hole in the pole along the side of the zoo fence allowed him to reach the fence peg. So he pulled the fence peg out and the side fell off. And the hole in the lamb’s backside was wear the poo came out. So he chased after the lamb, catching the poo.

Then he saw the teeny tiny baby guinea pig come out of a tunnel hole.

I went to grab him with his pooey hands and he saw me coming for him with my ‘time to go home’ face. He grabbed the baby guinea pig before I could reach him and held the animal close to his chest and ran to the corner with his back to me. I feared for an ‘Of Mice and Men’ moment where my son’s undying love for tiny furry animals would come to a sweet end. I released his grip by tickling him and the guinea pig coughed and ran back into his hole, scared forever more. My son eyed the hole off.

It was time to go. One near death experience was enough for this mum. Those poor, poor animals.

We got home and Cheef Dog was happily waiting for us at the side gate. He came running inside and Alfie ran after him, squealing and shouting ‘mumma, mumma’ (he calls the dog ‘mumma’ – let’s not go into this). Cheef Dog sprinted to the couch and I caught Alfie just before he got there. Alfie reached out his hand and firmly patted Cheef Dog across his back saying ‘dental teeth’ which I will take as ‘gentle Cheef’ over and over again.

‘Dental teeth, dental. Dental teeth, dental.’

Perhaps the petting zoo has helped him to get this gentle thing down pat?

This post first appeared on Bubba West.

A hole lotta love

Last weekend I took my son to the oval. We rode there on the bike and squealed the whole way, waving at trucks as we spun ahead.

We arrived at Yarraville Gardens and I helped my son out of his plastic seat, popping him on the ground to stand as I held the back of his t-shirt as he pulled. His head was pushed forward with his eyes on the horizon. I could see steam come out of his nose as he scraped the ground with his Volley. He was ready to run.

My kid was born ready. The birth was so quick, he popped out and said “Yo dudes. If you can just give me one hour to sort this entering-the-world shit out, I will be ready to go. What have you got planned?”

I said “rest.”

He stuck his middle finger up at me and blew a raspberry.

So here I am, seventeen months later, gripping my son’s tee as he revs up for his run like a bull to a red flag. My two-speed kid, who naps and runs and is so time poor to fit in any activity outside these two categories, has the energy of an Olympian. I mean, this kid wore out his pre-walkers before he could walk.

My time with my son is spent at the pool, climbing park equipment, at the beach (because the ‘sandpit’ there is more interesting), at the oval, at the farm, on the swings (he pushes me), on the bike/trike/supertrike/motorbike, or just running alongside the dog chasing after his tail.

I don’t think I have ever been this fit in my life. It’s extraordinary how much of my local suburb I know now off by heart. I have got to know this little town, albeit at a toddlers pace, like the back of my hand.

Yesterday it took forty-five minutes to walk the five minutes it normally takes to walk from home to the Village. The only reason being was all the holes along the way - my son LOVES holes - otherwise I reckon the kid could run to the Village in three minutes without a puff: the fence holes, the holes in the ground, the holes in the dirt, the letterbox holes and the hole in the end of his sneaker. These are all great obsessions that can distract an athlete in training.

We now ride the bike a lot. So when we got to the oval, my son knew exactly what he was there for: Baby, he was born to run.

I counted down from three and let go of his t-shirt and he shot off like a bullet. He ran so far I had to run after him. Then he saw me running and ran the other way, even further. And he kept running and I got a stitch. I stopped to catch a breath and he turned around, and then ran even further. As far as the cricket cages. Then stopped.

I waved to him and started jogging over to him. Then I realised what he was about to do. It was so obvious and I wasn’t fast enough to stop him.

He squeezed between the two locked cricket cage gates and ran into the cage. I caught up to the gates and there was no way I was going to squeeze through unless I had a pair of wire cutters handy. I put my arm through the gap and tried to reach him. He ran further towards the back of the cage. I called out his name and he repeated it, thinking that was hilarious.

A dog walker stopped by and asked if I needed help. We shook keys together, got the dog to wag its tail, sang ‘Old Macdonald’ and other nostalgic tunes to encourage interaction and he just played in the corner laughing at us.

A jogger came by to see what the fuss was about. He had one of those lanyard things and he shook that about and did a funny dance in his bike shorts (which was quite creepy). Alfie turned his back and played with the fake grass in the corner.

Two more dog walkers with four dogs, a female jogger – who instantly caught the attention of the male jogger, a couple of teenagers and a small soccer team joined the cricket gate posse. There was singing, dancing, shaking of numerous items, calling out, clapping. You name it. We all did it.

Then Alfie started getting upset. Who were all these people? He started stressing and came towards me at the gate wanting to escape the cage but not knowing how. The joggers had become engrossed in their own (hot) conversation and were leaving the scene, soccer practice had started so the mini players went off to play, the teenagers went to be cool somewhere else, leaving just the dog walkers and me and my scared little son.

Then Alfie saw it. His favourite thing in the world. A hole. He squeezed between the gates and ran towards the dog who was digging with its bum facing towards my son. I grabbed Alfie just in time, before he stuck his finger in unknown territory.

We said thank you to the dog walkers and waved goodbye to our new park pals and got back on the bicycle. We were both tired and didn’t say much on the ride home.

When riding through the Village we saw the two joggers having a wine together, their knees touching while they had a little giggle. Alfie and I high fived each other, I winked at the couple and we peddled home. 

This post first appeared on Bubba West.