#1342 Dancing in the kitchen with my loves part 9

I had about 75 dishes and forms of cutlery to wash after dinner tonight. It was Friday, but yet I was feeling flat.

So I walked up to the stereo. Set the input to CD. And adjusted the volume to 13.

Soon…

“Mama,” Freddie Mercury’s bohemian voice soon came floating out of the speakers.

Baby girl gasped beside me. Smiled in awe.

My 6 year-old getting excited over a Queen song? Why, I never. πŸ™‚

Before the second line had even finished, she held her hand out towards me. “Dance partner?” she teased.

“Oh honey, I can’t, Mummy has too many dishes…” as soon as I said the words I realised how ridiculous they sounded. I dropped the tea towel and joined her on the floor, as we waltzed, spun each other around, did spins and ballet poses and skipped, as well as a hefty dose of HEAD BANGING.

Once the song was over, I returned to my dishes. They hadn’t gone anywhere. But that moment, and that song had.

Thank God I took advantage of it πŸ™‚

#1251 To remember a song

Don’t you hate it when you walk into a room with purpose, get distracted by something… pause, and then think ‘what did I come here for again?’

It can be soooo annoying. Especially when you are super-busy or time-poor, which is almost everyone nowadays. I can usually backtrack my steps, go back to the ‘other’ thing I was doing, and sure enough within 10 minutes at the very most, the thought comes flying back to me, and just as quickly I then go to get it/do it/create it.

But it happens in so many different ways too.

You will catch up with an old friend and say “I had so much to tell you – I just can’t remember now…”

Or you will be falling asleep at night and think of the most creative and inspiring thing, and yet it is all but blah blah blah at sunrise after you wake up.

Or like me, you hear a song, try your best to remember it for future reference… and then forget.

That’s almost what happened to me yesterday. I didn’t even hear the song in question. I just remembered it. Out of nowhere. I was listening to another 80s tune on the way to meet my friends for dinner, and this other song popped into my head out of nowhere… I didn’t have it in my CD collection… I didn’t have it on my ipod… I just willed myself to remember and play it/show it to Hubbie the next day.

Tonight while starting to wash the massive pile of dishes from dinner, I went to put on the Bluetooth speaker to make my task more fun… nothing like a distraction technique like youtube to make the monotonous of washing dishes interesting…

And literally, just as I said to him “oh, I had a song I wanted to play for you…”

Guess what?

BANG. The song actually flew INTO my head! Not out.

Well what do you know?

I know, you are hanging to know what it is. πŸ˜‰ It’s a song from a well-known 80s movie, and due to the movie it’s from I think many don’t tend to relate this song to the movie, because of a fairly prominent other song from the movie DEFINITELY tied to it.

Footloose. Sure, ‘Footloose’ is the song from Footloose, EVERYONE knows that. But did you know this song features too?:

See?

Hubbie hadn’t even heard of it. EVER. I was gob-smacked. This guy who plays 80s music almost every night…

The best line:

“I swear that I can see forever in your eyes…

(sing with me!) –Β 

PARADISE.”

Thanking my memory bank for this romantic 80s rock duet πŸ™‚

 

 

#1163 Love through a window

Often I forget how good I have it, despite my concerted daily gratitude journaling.

It happened this morning. I was at the kitchen, finally tending to the dishes that had piled up since the day before… dish after dish I washed, while Hubbie passed my immediate view from outside, off to do his put-off job of cleaning the barbeque left over from Saturday evening.

He passed me once. Twice. Three times. We smiled grandly at each other. Blew kisses. Mouthed “I love you’s.” I realised as he walked off that I was still smiling stupidly from our little gestures.

Which were big, in fact.

And that’s when it hit me – I was so lucky. I was so lucky to be in the place, the relationship, the state we were in. In love. Happy. There were people in loveless marriages. Who felt stuck. Confused. Unsatisfied. Unheard. Used. Mistreated.

I had a man who thought I was pretty cool… and likewise, I thought he was pretty awesome too.

And all of this, at the kitchen sink πŸ™‚

#1128 Un-asked dish washing

Today, as I held my head in my hands, grappling with not just a thumping headache but sorrowful emotions from the day, Hubbie took his empty dinner plate to the kitchen while baby girl and I had our last bites.

Running water. Clinking of dishes. The opening and closing of the rubbish bin.

It was unmistakable. He was doing the dishes.

My Hubbie. A helper, but also a β€˜hater-of-dishes’ kind of helper.

Still he got up.

Unasked.

No fanfare.

With simple action, practically in the background, he got up and got to it.

And I suddenly loved him ALL THE MORE. πŸ˜πŸ˜πŸ˜β€οΈβ€οΈβ€οΈπŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ½πŸ₯£πŸ₯„πŸ΄

#842 Scones and Schnitzel

It’s kinda hard to look for gratitude and try to find small things that make you happy in amongst shitty days, even more so when those shitty days reveal even worser days for others.

How can one complain about smaller issues when they know of family or friends in ill-health or distress?

It actually reminds me of what I used to say after my father-in-law passed away. Here I was, a new Mum to a beautiful baby girl, yet still completely overwhelmed by my new parent role and the life that came with it; and then there was Hubbie, equally besotted by her, while simultaneously still in deep grief over his father’s passing. And sometimes, someone, somewhere, would tell me they were having a bad day.

They would quickly realise their words in my company, and apologise for complaining. They saw in me, in us, in our family, that there were far harder things to go through. To manage. To overcome.

But you know what I would say to them?

“Everyone has their own problems. You shouldn’t feel bad about yours, and feel guilty that they aren’t big enough to cry over. You are allowed to be upset, it’s your life, your problems.”

Sure, little problems in light of big problems become an awareness of the bigger picture, and that enlightenment is major in itself.

But we can’t all be in woe at the same time, can we? Then we wouldn’t have those others around us, less in woe, to pick us up from our sadness…

At this time of my life, I think I’m in a state of ‘less in woe.’

So I’m grateful.

But that isn’t what this gratitude post is about. That in itself is actually huge, more so because I know, and I have felt the comparison of being WHOLEHEARTEDLY in woe.

This is perhaps about the most trivial of things in light of today… baking.

For a week now I’ve been planning on making scones. They seem to make them for any given reason at baby girl’s kindergarten. Parents getting to know each other afternoon tea? SCONES. Mother’s Day? SCONES. Neighbourhood primary school visits? SCONES.

A possum jumps from the gum trees into the yard and shits all over the kids play equipment?

SCONES.

Ok so clearly I am bullshitting with you but you get my drift. I have not made scones in ages, well since we moved here really, and part of that has to do with

  1. kitchen reno, AND
  2. having half my kitchen stuff still in boxes upstairs because I’m waiting on one more damn cupboard (COME ON kitchen guys!) to get made.

I’ve forgotten half of what I do own in the way of bakeware and pans and the like, it’s been that long I’ve seen half of my things. But after repeated reminders by the kinder that both baby girl and I, really enjoy them, well I said to myself “I’ll damn well making them.”

You require next to nothing to make scones after all.

I really wanted to be grateful for them, really I did. And at the end, I was, for some brief moment at the end as I indulged in jam and cream upon pillows on doughy lightness that were apparently ‘cafΓ©-style’…

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But the ‘before’ was hard, because baby girl was sick you see. I held her back from kinder, quite rich since THAT IS THE PLACE SHE CATCHES ALL HER WEEKLY COLDS FROM.

Not shitty much.

She was weak, tired, and developed a sudden ear ache during the day which had her retreating to the couch often to lie down. I had imagined us making these together with happiness… the most she did was brush the tops with milk.

And then the ‘after’… because as I was trying to enjoy my coffee/scone break, breathing slowly, ALONE, in peace, once baby girl had finished her babycino… I somehow spilt my coffee.

No, it gets worse. ON MY PHONE.

I swore better than a sailor out at sea. OH MY. Baby girl knows her Mum too well, and wasn’t afraid. In fact she came up to me and asked “Mama, you ok?”

Awww.

So instead of being grateful for my scones, the preparation time with baby girl which wasn’t special, and then the clean up which was devastating (I’d let dishes pile up half of the day), I instead became appreciative of something else.

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Hubbie cooked a killer chicken parmigiana tonight. He cooked it fresh, placed passata and ham and freshly grated cheese on top, grilled it in the oven, and it was THE BOMB.

The best part to him making it for us?

I didn’t have to clean it up.

(That wasn’t agreed to from his original contract, but from the day I’d had, there was no other choice).

Every time I complain about something going shitty, really I am grateful… because I do know better… I know better, that there is worse.

P.S My phone survived

#641 Dancing in the kitchen with my loves part 7

You are doing incredible at life, when you can turn the most mediocre of chores, into something to look forward to.

Taking washing the dishes for example.

I don’t mind washing the dishes all too much. Like, I don’t dream about it or anything, but I certainly don’t go “Ugh! Another fork! Damn you cutlery!” when I have to wash something.

That’s Hubbie. But even he has gotten used to the sometimes mundane duties of life, and has found a way around this…

He connects his phone to YouTube, then turns on the portable speakerand BOOM! Instant concert in the kitchen as he is washing the dishes. He is singing, even dancing (YES, dancing), and then baby girl will join in, as the dishes stay dirty in the sink.

He calls it balance.

Tonight, I cottoned on to this. I was doing the dishes, and likewise hooked up the phone online so I could pump out some old 80s tunes. I was in an old-school kinda mood, starting at Wet Wet Wet, then YouTube suggested some Savage Garden, and I was pondering how the duo did so bloody well in so little a time and then virtually disappeared, when another song I’ve been meaning to play to Hubbie sprung into my mind.

Jon Bon. Man he looks fine in the clip. No wonder women were losing their minds (and panties) for him so many decades ago.

The moment in question that I wanted Hubbie to listen to was 2:12 into the clip, when Jovi yells

“And baby you know my hands are dirty”

and then Richie Sambora shadows the same line before Jovi sings

“But I wanted to be your Valentine”…

It’s nothing about the words, and yet ALL about the way the two voices scream in perfect melody alongside each other… I just LOVE IT.

And then of course, the ‘dancing kitchen’ festivities began because baby girl wanted to be picked up, so up she went in my arms, onto the makeshift kitchen dancefloor we stepped, and I started making out like I was Bon Jovi as I screamed

“I’ll be there for you

These five words I swear to you

When you breathe

I want to be the air for you

I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU!”

I swear, this girl of ours is going to grow up with the BEST music taste. She knows all the current radio stuff, and yet she immediately bops along when Prince comes on, sings “No No No” about Amy Winehouse’s rehab, and shakes her hips to Ricky Martin.

(Lleyton fist-pump!)

Hubbie joined our circle once he had finished observing Jon Bon’s hair, and our dancing in the kitchen moment was then complete.

‘Til next time of course…

 

 

#597 A well-read break in the afternoon sun

I had many options.

1, I could wash those growing stacks of dishes that had accumulated in the sink throughout the day.

B.Β  I could write, in any of my writing projects – just pick an avenue: book review, journaling, updating my SmikG page… I would not be bored.

c) I had emails to send, and phone calls to make, regarding our upcoming kitchen reno project.

8: There were also messages to be sent out, to various professionals and also close friends.

Z – I could even dedicate some learning time to baby girl, or break out the sports bra and Zumba away.

But I chose to do NONE of those things.

I looked out at the GLORIOUS day, as Macklemore sings it, and also, baby girl’s new favourite song to sing…

…and I thought, how could I possibly stay inside on a day like today? I had to shirk all my responsibilities and to-dos, and do something else…

I don’t just love coffee. And aside from baby girl, my family, and shopping, and heading outdoors, and looking at sunsets and dancing in the kitchen, there is something else I love, that I don’t get to do as much as I wish to, but it will always and forever remain an intense, deep, reliable, faithful LOVE of mine.

Reading.

I took a new book from the bookshelf that I hadn’t yet opened, and sat outside on our bench, the afternoon sun warming me right up as I turned a couple of dozen pages.

Baby girl found me and brought out a sticker book, sitting on the concrete before me and getting to work.

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Sure, she interrupted my reading every 30 seconds. Sure, at the beginning I got up more than I was sitting down and enjoying the moment, either to help her or get ourselves some sunnies and hats for protection.

Sure, it wasn’t ALL peace and quiet.

But sitting there with my girl at my side, the sparkling water before us, and with Spring putting on a quite stunning show, I felt so relaxed. So at ease. And so ‘me’ again.

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