#1426 The city trip

We easily could have had a crap day.

We had a few difficult starts that could have turned us sour.

Like the train station parking.

There wasn’t any.

As it was we couldn’t take our regular line into the city because there were replacement buses at certain stops…

And if you have ever had to take a replacement bus in, you will understand why we never ever want to take a replacement bus EVER AGAIN.

So we tried to jump on another train line.

But every car park was full.

We were on holiday time… but the rest of the world was not.

It was a Friday you see. Business hours applied.

We went to one station, couldn’t find parking, before driving up to the next one trying to get lucky.

We did this at three stations before I said “let’s just drive in.”

I remembered the car park I’d gone to with baby girl when we had our Andy show for the last school holidays.

And we just happened to take the scenic route there.

Boy did it bring back memories.

We were driving along Beach Rd in St Kilda, and I was looking at the palm trees, at the houses facing the water…

AND IT HIT ME.

I remembered going there with Hubbie way before baby girl was around, and how we’d look up at the houses and admire them saying “imagine living here by the beach? Imagine that?”

Well we didn’t live by that beach, but now we lived close to a beach.

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All of a sudden our unplanned drive in was becoming a whole lot more.

We arrived at our car parking destination about 2 hours from when we set off. All the pausing and going from one station to the next and then looking for parking had taken ages.

We could have been cranky. We could have been pissed. Instead we stepped out of the old building, so known to us, and went ‘ahhh’ as the humidity of the day hit us and we spied THAT familiar street.

Lygon street. Our old stomping ground.

Oh wow. We were walking and telling baby girl everything. “Mummy and Daddy used to come here all the time… we used to go there… then we would go there… we’ve been there… look that’s changed!”

It was amazing as all the feelings came flooding back. It was a place that at one time in our life we frequented like twice a week… then it changed to once. LOL. We went there so much the trip there was permanently engrained in our minds. The twists and turns of the street, the best parking spots, and who did the best pasta and steak.

(Not necessarily from the pricey side, and if you know Lygon street you know which side of the street that is ๐Ÿ˜‰ )

We stopped to eat lunch at a place we had before, and looking up and down at the greenery on either side of us, I grew misty-eyed.

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I had a revelation.

I even said it aloud: “I could see myself living here.”

Hubbe was shocked. It was a big thing for me to say that. Me, SmikG, so rapt with the beachside that I couldn’t imagine anywhere else.

I clarifiedโ€ฆ “I love where we live… but one day, maybe in 20 years, I could imagine living here.”

The memories. Oh the MEMORIES! Even sitting at that table, I was reminded that we had sat at that very cafรฉ and at that very table and had a coffee, right before going on a little trip together pre-baby girl… I reminded Hubbie and he said “Yes, I remember!”

“Where were we going again?”

After throwing out some names which weren’t right, he said it was at a spot on the Peninsula.

FACE PALM. Where we live NOW.

The symmetry was freaking me out.

Lygon Street made me feel right at home. From the bear-shaped pizza for baby girl and the handmade gnocchi for me that melted in my mouth, I was in heaven. I’ve always said I was Italian in another life. I am more than confident of it after today.

We shared a coffee after our tram trek into the city-centre, where I had the most delicious and iconic Melbourne themed chocolate…

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Before we went to where we had planned to all along.

A children’s theatre show.

It was Room on the Broom, a production based off the iconic Australian children’s book. It was a present to baby girl for Christmas after we saw how enthralled in the book she was last year… and so that was the point of our whole trek in.

We did so much before that to get there, and it had been an adventure.

The show in itself was another great adventure.

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But then like so many times before, shit hit the fan.

Baby girl wanted merchandise. A tiny $40 stuffed toy witch, or a $25 stuffed toy cat.

I shouldn’t even mention the money. The money doesn’t matter. It was the principle.

She has LOADS of stuffed toys. Do you think she plays with them?

Noooooooooooooooooooooo.

She started the hysterics. The tantrum built. Cries and shrieks. “No I want it!” Stamping of the foot. It is almost hilarious if it ISN’T happening to you.

We’d done so much to get there. Spent so much. Travelled so far.

And now THIS.

I looked outside the open doors as she cried behind us. People crowded through the foyer, some looking over and others dealing with their own demanding brood.

I could see it – gone was the humidity that had enveloped me during my delicious Pomodoro gnocchi as I sweated it out at 1pm…

Because now at 4pm, it was windy and raining and people were getting drenched outside.

I put my foot down figuratively, told her “NO!” and stomped outside.

And instead of –

“But how the witch wailed

And how the cat spat

When the wind blew so widely

It blew off the hat.” –ย 

It was –

“How baby girl wailedย 

And how her Mum spat

As the wind blew so widely

and her Mum yelled ‘that’s that!'”

LOL.

She cried as we pulled her along through the rain, pelting down on us as we ran towards our tram stop.

“You don’t need another stuffed toy!”

“Yes I do!”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do!”

“No you don’t!”

And as we ran, our feet sploshing through puddles and water sinking through our sandals, our arguing turned into banter, and the water on her face was suddenly from the rain, not her tears, as baby girl started to laugh.

“Yes I do!”

We got some much appreciated shelter from a woman holding an umbrella as we waited to cross the road, and within moments, all was well again.

The wild weather could have thrown us off.

The tantrum, the crying and yelling could have put us in a real sour mood.

But it didn’t.

And all of a sudden, we were full circle in our feelings again. ๐Ÿ™‚

It was one of those weird days where it was a little bit of everything, but mostly a lot of fun and crazy.

We didn’t let anything unexpected throw us off our main task of having fun, whether it was a long drive, no parking, wild weather or a demanding 6 year old…

Our task was to make memories, with the added bonus of reminiscing past memories.

It was a happy day. โ™ฅ

 

 

 

 

#1414 A different viewpoint

Oh my.

I think we’re pretty lucky to have water views, but today what we saw, was next level.

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We were at my bro-in-law’s family’s house, and, like I said…

Oh my.

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But it wasn’t just the views. It was the people. The company. The dogs! The food nom nom nom. The memories made…

And oh, the sunsets.

Taking sunset pics must run in the family, as I’m not even pictured above taking any!

What a perfect way to start our holidays. โค๐ŸŒ…๐Ÿ˜

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#1411 Guess… who?

The day after Christmas is usually spent –

nursing a sore head.

nursing a swollen tummy

nursing a tired body –

and as such not much happens.ย 

Around here anyway.

There are new presents to play with and find homes for, a lot of cleaning, breathing out a sigh of relief that Christmas is over, yet simultaneously feeling sad that Christmas is a whole 364 days away…

It’s a well-intentioned catch-up and family day.

And what better family way to end the day than with an…

Old-fashioned game.

Guess which one?!?!

‘Santa’ got this as one of baby girl’s few presents. I LOVED this growing up and as she’s at an age where she’s getting a lot out of board games like this one.

I sat opposite her while Hubbie helped her work out the best questions to ask to eliminate the most people, and we got to work –

slamming the faces DOWN.

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The best bit? The times I won, she was so rapt, thinking that by me guessing correctly she had won.

LOL LOL LOL.

The end of night scoreboard? 2-2.

๐Ÿ˜‰

#1397 The hair can wait, but the help can’t

Today I attended a Parent Helpers Morning Tea at baby girl’s school.

I wrote some time ago that I got the invite to the tea and happily accepted. To be honest, I was feeling a bit shit this morning and actually contemplated pulling out.

On top of my hesitation, I had called my hairdresser this morning to cancel my upcoming appointment with them, since it clashed with me helping out baby girl at swimming.

Why was I going?

I was busy already.

What was the point?

What made me say yes in the first place?

I had these questions circling through my mind, but at the same time the thought of not going didn’t sit right with me either.

So I wentโ€ฆ and oh man am I glad I did.

Firstly, I had a really great time. I caught up with other parents and baby girl’s teacher, and it was lovely to be in a slightly different social setting without our kids screaming “Mum look at me!” from the playground at pick-up.

Oh, my THE SPREAD. It was this insanely long table with all kinds of sandwiches, rolls and wraps, fruit and snacks and chocolate and cake and sweets and crackers and everything in between… it was amazing. The coffee and tea window was set up and moving quickly despite the long line, and all in all it was a really well organised morning tea.

But then the principal spoke, and thanked us… she pointed out and spoke about an elderly gentleman, telling us that despite his flailing health, he had been volunteering and helping kids at the school with their reading for 11 years now. I looked at the sombre-looking frail man hanging his head, wishing he would hold it up high. Tears gathered in my eyes and I willed myself to not be a sook by taking a big sip of my tea.

What a man.

Then there were two students who had made up poems for all the helpers. They read them out, and though they were simple, they were so, so sweet, and totally pulled at my heart-strings. I was standing there thinking “damn it, I’m not supposed to cry.”

And then I realised. I realised that all of us in there, all of the helpers really did deserve this special morning. We deserved the thanks. I was reminded of how only that morning I had cancelled my hair appointment as I had forgotten over a month ago when I booked it, that it clashed with the last swimming session baby girl had through the school.

Baby girl wanted me there at swimming, and I couldn’t let her down. I cancelled my pre-Christmas hair appointment instead.

But secretly, someone was looking out for me. Because when I called to cancel, the hairdresser was able to fit me in next week with her… at a better and more convenient time than the original one would have been anyway.

So, winning.

I made the morning tea. I gratefully accepted the thanks amongst so many more.

I cancelled the hair appointment and made that tiny sacrifice for baby girl…

And I was thanked.

These sacrifices we make, big or small, are all eventually noticed… if not by friends, family or your child’s school… then by the Universe. โ™ฅ

#1395 Tacos

I have a confession.

I’m 36 years old and have never had a taco.

๐Ÿ˜ฎ๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿ˜ณ

Maybe I have, but if I did I sure as hell can’t remember it.

Which is kind of the same thing. ๐Ÿคทโ€โ™€๏ธ

Tonight we ate them.

And…

Nom nom nom nom nom.

I always thought they’d be so annoying to eat. The hard shell, subsequently crunchy and falling apart, with all the fillings inside dropping into a heap in your hands…

Who would want that?

Burritos, enchiladas, quesadillas, soft wraps… I’ve done them all. Corn chips as a snack, sure.

But not a hard corn shell as a Mexican sandwich.

But omg! I was wrong. It was delicious and fresh, and baby girl loved it just as much as I did.

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The crunch was definitely there, and the contrast it provided against the other ingredients was amazing.

And sure, half of the filling and shards of the corn tortilla fell onto my plate when my teeth bit into the taco…

But I realised it was still as delicious from the base of my plate as it was when in my hands. โค๐ŸŒฎ

 

 

#1374 Us 4, like old times

Today we found ourselves in a place, a space, a set up, that we haven’t been in for a while… and yet it was something that we used to live and breathe.

And eat. As it was concerning the old kitchen table.

Not my kitchen table… but my parents’ old kitchen table.

It was me, my sister, and my parents. And we sat down to eat in exactly the same spots we used to all those years ago.

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๐Ÿ˜ฏ

Wow. This is a big deal. We go to my parents’ house a fair bit, and even sis and I will find ourselves there at the same time too… but it will usually be with the rest of the fam. Hubbies. Kids. And we never sit at the small round table when there are 9 of us.

But today, only 4. The original clan;) I had to take a snapshot of the moment.

It wasn’t the only flashback in time though… When we were headed out later, sis and I in the back seat of Mum’s car as she drove, Dad in passenger… she stepped on the gas, HARD, as she reversed flew down their long narrow drive.

Sis and I turned to each other with looks of surprise on our faces before I burst out laughing.

Oh Mum. How could I forget your insane driving?

Memories. โค๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ง

๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿš˜

 

#1371 The tomato sauce saga

A lot of great things happened today, because family was involved. But I’m not going to talk about all those things… I’m going to talk about my brother.

Rather, my bro-in-law.

But first I need to tell you about my hubbie, and tomato sauce… he drinks the stuff. He puts it on steak, chicken, rice, in sandwiches, hell, over any kind of ‘dry meal’… you name it, most likely he’s had it with the good ol’ dead horse.

Sauce.

Today at a family function, there was none of it. Hubbie had a full plate, and none of the food components had any of his most favourite accompaniment poured over it.

SHOCK HORROR. ๐Ÿ˜ฑ

My brother even asked the wait staff. No, there was definitely none. A few minutes passed and he got up to ‘take a walk,’ his son coming along with him.

Several minutes later, they were back with big smiles. They sat down and my nephew produced a familiar bottle of red.

Not wine. The other red.

Sauce!

“Does anyone want some sauce?” he asked cheekily.

They had gone to the closest supermarket to buy a bottle of sauce for him!

Here the trio are totally incognito, the sauce startlingly clear (with my big red arrow!)

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Hubble was able to have his food drowning in sauce, once again. ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ™Œ

They had a great laugh about it, but the true meaning was seriously there.

And so you can see, why this post is dedicated to my bro-in-law… and why he actually deserves the title of ‘brother.’

๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ…๐Ÿงดโค