#625 Library sessions

Baby girl and I have a thing. Every couple of weeks or so we head over to the local library.

She browses the picture book section, engages in play with some other toddler, also kind-of interested in the books, kind-of-not…

She finds a bunch of books and DVDs that she MUST take home, high on the endless possibilities of borrowing more so than the actual act of following through with reading or watching any of them at home…

I stand in the aisle on ‘writing,’ browsing titles and looking for those I haven’t seen before. I flick through their pages, gaining inspiration for my own creative endeavours, while checking around the corner every so often to make sure baby girl is still in the interactive kids reading booth, watching the digital pages turn.

And aside from all of these habitual activities, there is one thing that we always, without fail, MUST do.

We coffee.

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Even if I don’t mention it, baby girl always asks me for a babycino from the corner café within the library. The great thing is, they can deliver to the reading area, and so we always sit at one of the round tables, sipping our warm beverages, flicking through books, and just enjoying the moment.

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#624 Motherly Moments no. 4

I am chatting to Hubbie on the couch.

Correction. I am trying to chat to Hubbie on the couch.

Baby girl is all over me. Holding my face, trying to get me to look at her and only her. “Mama, mama, mama,” she repeats, hogging my line of vision, while I try to look past her and continue on with our conversation.

“One second baby girl.”

“Mama, mama, mama,” she continues.

We somewhat manage to end the topic. I look at her, actively focusing in. “What?”

“Mama, I love you too much.”

Awwwww.

“Princess, I love you too much.”

“I love you MORE.”

Why does she always win at this game?!?!?!

I smile and hug her tightly. “Actually sweetheart, I think I love YOU more.”

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Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

#623 Ice-Cream Truck joy

It was the perfect thing to do on a sunny Sunday. Especially after the late night that was, which is why we ended up at the Community Kinders Fair just before 1pm.

It was a gathering of a whole bunch of kinders from the area, with many of them holding stalls where the respective teachers sat beneath the shade of their tents, activities out for littlies of all ages to enjoy, while a few major attractions were positioned here, and there. Like the animal cage where the kiddies mingled with goats and chickens; or the massive tent in centre-field that housed magical performances and tricks and games for both young and old; there was a small stage set up for local up-and-coming singers to put their vocals to the test amidst the family-friendly crowd; and then there was the long, LONG line leading to…

The Face Painting.

After a quick stop over at the animal cage

and then a hello to baby girl’s teachers in their tent stall, we headed over to the stage area where we knew a friend of hers was nearby.

Upon them meeting it was immediately agreed that both wanted face painting. NOW.

So, I stood in line with baby girl, her friend, and her friend’s Mum, for a good hour. In the strong sunshine-y wind.

Thank God we had company. We talked kinders, life, jobs, kids, and all the in-betweens. We even made friends with a lady in front of us, all the while silently and loudly willing the line to go faster.

The thing that puzzled us though, was the fair ended at 2pm, with stallholders packing up and the crowds dissipating quickly from that mammoth scenic park we were in. But at no stage approaching 2pm, at 2pm, or even just after 2pm, did the two ladies, slowly and meticulously and precisely doing the face painting, look up at us to indicate they were done.

For sure they would call out at some stage, and tell us ‘beyond this line, no more!’ We waited and waited. But also, surely they wouldn’t tell us they were done, and we all had to go home, after we had waited so very long to fulfil our kids desire?

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They didn’t. The two ladies worked brilliantly, not taking face painting shortcuts just because it was now 2:20, and they were still there, while 4/5 of the grounds had up and gone. Baby girl and her friend made their way to the star seats soon enough, and we were all VERY happy that we had waited, for something.

After my profuse thank yous to the woman who had painted baby girl, we said our goodbyes to her friend and her Mum, and started to make our way to the car. I looked longingly at the seemingly empty ice cream truck still on the ground, next to a hot food truck. I had been in line and watching people all about me eating ice creams for the past hot, windy hour, and wishing that I too was indulging in some cold and sweet goodness.

Occasionally a man passed the interior window of the truck, but there were no other signs or activity to support the fact that it was still operational. For all we knew the dude was going to rev the engine and drive off the park grounds at any moment.

“Man, I would love an ice cream,” I wished out loud.

“Let’s see if he’s still open,” Hubbie responded. We followed, myself not too confident of the sweet-treat outcome.

He called out as we approached, the man now visible again behind the open window. “Can we still get ice creams?”

The man smiled, and responded in a way that made me think both yes, and no: “what did you want?”

We quickly placed our 3 orders: Hubbie’s gelato, baby girl’s soft serve with sprinkles, and my soft serve dipped in chocolate.

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It was heaven. Never has an ice cream tasted so damn good.

I’m putting it out there. You don’t need no fancy-schmanc ice cream café to have me flocking to their doors. Just give me an old-school truck, and I’m as happy as a lassie.

The consensus amongst us, was we were definitely in agreeance. Hubbie’s comments of his gelato being “insanely good,” and baby girl’s slurps and “mmmm’s” told the rest of the story.

Oh, and just so you know… baby girl is currently more a hand painter, than a face painter type of girl.

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Butterfly and bee. The bee is a bit shonky, but the waiting in line was worth it, if only for the ice cream at the end…

 

#622 Yo Hubbie, it’s your birthday…

This dude.

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His Par-Tay tonight.

Only slightly drunk. ALLLL good. Writing while under the influence in the bestest fun.

So let’s quickly wrap this up before I regret it.

Let me just add, you know it is love when you want to kill the person earlier on in the night, and then later you are totally loving them again.

As Tony Montana says somewhat somehow in Scarface “she gonna love me again.”

Only, I’m gonna love him again.

Music, memories, and a bunch of 8 making it sound like 80 odd in the house… that’s my kind of a great night 😉

#621 Laugh fest no.1

Because there will undoubtedly be more.

You know those awesome laughs? The ones where you go all ugly face and you cry/can’t breathe/go silent as you gasp for breath, all in one?

Yeah those are THE BEST. I just had one with baby girl, and what makes it even more satisfying was that I was getting really shitty just moments earlier.

It’s something you need to learn, and adapt to in parenthood. The whole aspect of turning things around, not only to save your child, but to save yourself. It is easy to be angry, and harder to make the conscious shift to change things around. But when you do, boy you get the rewards in leaps and bounds.

And ugly faces too.

Baby girl does not sit still. Like, she will be eating her dinner, getting off the chair, adjusting her clothes, climbing back onto the chair, decides to then come over and hug one of us, back on the chair, nope she positioned her clothes wrong, back off… and ON and ON and ON it goes.

Sometimes I find her sitting and watching some show, and even then she is teetering on her little couch, letting it swing back and forth; her legs moving all around as if she has ants crawling all over her; and at the very least, her fingers are moving, picking at her skin, any loose piece of anything on her that she can get her hands on.

She does not sit still. I mean, you’d think she was 4 or something?!?!

So I am putting her to bed and getting her settled before reading time. I am trying to tuck her in, then suddenly… she doesn’t want to sit up, she wants to lie down.

“Fine, lie down.”

She does so as I get the books out. She asks to be tucked in, and I do so, and then she points to me beside her, my legs on top of the covers.

“No I don’t want to be tucked in, I’m hot. You’re fine ok? Let’s read.”

I pick up the first book, The Very Cranky Bear. I know she is shitty, because she wants me to be tucked in too, like her. As I start to read, she gets the other two books and flings them across the bed in a defiant action.

I pause, and breathe. I stare at her silently, and then ignore the action to start reading again.

She waits a couple of seconds until getting out of all the covers I have just tucked her into, to reach over at the end of her bed and fish the other books back to us.

I stop. I breathe. Why must this routine take so bloody long???

“Ok. Now get back into bed.” I tuck her in once again, knowing I’ll probably do it another 7 times, and go back to reading the book. I’m a tad frustrated as I read, and in a sudden movement, I alter the book to match my mood.

“… None of them had noticed, that someone else was there,

sleeping in that cave was a very cranky… Mummy!”

She absolutely roared with laughter. Suddenly the ‘Mummy’ and not the ‘Bear’ was going “ROAR ROAR ROAR!”

She laughed so hard, so addictively, so insanely, that I could barely read the book. She now knew the game, and was laughing for the future pages, knowing I’d be replacing the ‘Bear’ with ‘Mummy’ at every turn. She was laughing so deliriously, without control, that I stopped every few pages to ugly laugh with her. I couldn’t help it. What a good belly-aching time.

And as I reached the end of the book, I realised that a bear and a mummy have a lot more in common than just being cranky.

“As (Mummy) stormed back inside the cave, (s)he turned and roared at sheep,

‘All I really want,’ (s)he said, ‘is a quiet place to sleep!'”

Ahh bear. I feel ya. I’ve got my own monkey keeping me awake here 😉

cranky bear

 

 

#620 Love 26

There are 26 letters in the English alphabet.

26 is a novel by Leo McKay Jr, the name of an Australian alternative rock band, and the fifth studio album of the American band Paramore.

There are 26 bones in the average human foot and ankle.

There are 26 red, and 26 black cards in an average deck.

Numerology says that people with a 26 life number contain the ideals of realism, family, and diplomacy…

Hubbie was 26 when he proposed to me.

Was he realistic about that then? He should have been, since it is his birth number.

As life goes on, you accumulate some ‘liked’ numbers. And ever since Hubbie entered my world, 26 has been a fond one.

It is his birthday today, and so I wanted to visit some other interesting number 26 facts (shout-out to Wikipedia and Affinity Numerology, oh and my Life) in celebration of this fantastic day.

Happy Birthday my Love. I like the number because of you, only you, and it’s another example of how you make everything, just like this number, that much more fascinating. ♥

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Photo by Mathyas Kurmann on Unsplash

 

#619 New TV

We didn’t get anything fancy. God knows we can’t afford it. But the reasoning to getting it was, if we had just added the sports package and Hubbie couldn’t bloody well see the players, stats, shots, ANYTHING on the left side of the screen during his much loved NBA, then what was the bloody point of an extra $29 a month?

You see, our TV never had any issues. Until…

Dum da dum dum.

Baby girl came along.

Don’t turn your nose up at me. Until you have a child that wants to ruin ALL of your things, don’t say ‘it can’t happen to me.’

I used to say that. And guess what?

It DID happen to me.

You know what’s worse? It always occurs with the ‘sleepers.’ You know the ones, the kids that are oh so darling, flash their bright whites at you, give you hugs and kisses, eat their vegies… all that jazz.

And then when you are not watching, they take their toy maraca and smash it against the TV.

There is only so much you can do when a child takes to TV with strong object. See, by the time you get to them to stop them…

… The TV has copped a few good bangs. You think, fine, I’ll confiscate the maraca. Tell off your child. “Don’t do that!”

And nothing happens for weeks.

Then BANG! They have gotten hold of some festival light-up stick, and BANG BANG BANG! Again against the TV.

And you’re like “what is wrong with you? I thought you liked Dora the Explorer?”

You can confiscate all the hard, stick-like objects, and do your best to keep it from happening again… but it happens so infrequently, you kind of think, ‘I can’t just stay here watching her watch TV, ALL the time…’

And that is the beginning of the TV undoing. Because just as you think they have gotten over the TV bashing stage –

BANG!

And that my friends, is how the left side of our TV came to stay a blurry black, for about 2 whole years.

We got used to it, but really, it was soooo annoying.

I mean, TV entertainment was just not the same. Action scenes? They are fighting, and then disappear to the black.

Drama? Watch someone arguing into blank space.

Romance? There is no point in watching love scenes when all you can see are arms.

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This is our new beauty. Of course, within 10 minutes of set up it was already on baby girl’s old fave.

I just hope she still likes The Wiggles, or else she’ll go to bat with them too…

😉