#669 When they say her name no.2

With one more session of kinder to go for the year, you can be assured that the kids know each other’s names by now.

As parents too, I know fairly most of them. They are so sweet, and I feel like I’ve even grown fond of many of them, though we only see them once a week. I even think of the kids parents like “Alisha’s Dad,” and “Sarah’s Mum,” than to actually go by their names.

And hearing someone call out to baby girl, well, the novelty has not grown old, not one bit.

Baby girl was happily telling me what she had done at kinder as we left the building this afternoon, and as we started to cross the car park, she went on to the topic of her lunch.

“Me have little bit wrap… little bit pretzels…”

Sigh, this girl. She is a good eater, don’t get me wrong. But she gets so distracted at kinder, that her lunchbox comes back fairly full every time. I have been on a campaign to get her to eat more during kinder hours, rather than AFTER kinder hours which she has been doing once she gets home (successfully I might add, but you know, teachers want them all ‘school ready’ and everything).

But then as she was rattling what she had had “a little bit” of, she went

“me have lunch outside!”

“Oh?!” I replied. “With who?”

She answered with one of the teacher’s names, and then interestingly, named a boy who was walking with his Mum to their car, only a few metres away parallel to us.

She had named this boy several times before, and had indicated that they had played and he was nice. This made me happy, knowing she had another friend to play with aside from a few girls that she repeatedly mentioned to me,, but also I had to wonder: were these made-up kids games? Was she making up stories to me as kids often do? How could I really know what was going on at kinder, without seeing it for myself?”

At the mention of this boy’s name by baby girl though, I started to say “well, why don’t you say bye to him them?” at the same moment as his Mum looked up at her son’s name being mentioned. This Mum and I shared a broad smile between us as baby girl waved to him with a “bye,” and he did a casual “bye” back.

And then before I could get over that, I heard from behind us “bye baby girl!”

It was another boy calling out to her, and she responded without hesitation and a wave.

OMG. As if she knows everyone, and these little adults that are our kids, are conversing and interacting like 14 year olds when they are in fact 4.

It was the most hilarious yet so adorable and also super-exciting moment to hear her name being called again, and honestly, this little scenario had me almost bursting.

Next week the parents join their kids on the last day for a picnic lunch and graduation ceremony, and already I think I won’t be able to deal with all the cuteness…

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#650 Pancakes at Midnight

Let me start by saying, please people, let spontaneity into your life.

Go out on a whim.

Do first what pops into your mind. 

Follow through with something unplanned. 

Throw the rule book out the window.

I am not saying to be careless, reckless or stupid. I am saying to let yourself go where the wind takes you.

Where the fun takes you.

Or as was our case tonight, where the pancakes take you.

Now let me also say people, be mindful of intention. Your thoughts create and make your world. So when you are speaking to your partner and saying things like “I feel like pancakes,” from as far back as weeks and weeks ago, be prepared for ‘said pancakes’ to come very suddenly, unexpectedly and surprisingly into your life.

Do not reject the pancakes because you didn’t plan their arrival properly. Run with the pancakes, frolic with the pancakes, and even do a Usain Bolt with the pancakes.

Just go with it.

Tonight we had a function on the other side of town. We left at 11pm, and even though it was late, and baby girl would inevitably end up asleep on the car drive home, at that moment when the thought came into my head, she and Hubbie were laughing up a storm and mucking about to no end.

“What if we go to Pancake Parlour?” I said to him, testing.

“Yeah, I could go some pancakes,” was his easy response.

SOLD. 25 minutes later, still on our way home, we detoured in Doncaster to a 24-hour pancake operation, where the premises were FULL at midnight.

And here we were strolling in all dressed up with our 4 year-old like

“SHOW ME THE PANCAKES!”

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My pancake craving and midnight sweet tooth was satisfied by the Pancake medley which contained 4 mini stacks of different pancake combinations, while baby girl ate all the ice cream off her stack, before mixing jam into every possible pancake combination of ours.

And just like that, a kind of ordinary day, turned into a fun and extraordinary night.

Midnight.

Pancakes at midnight.

P.S to my girls… let this be our next catch up. It’s been a while since our last ‘Hot Balls.’

The End 🙂

#635 KK 2017 edition

Why is it that we wait for an occasion to catch up with those we love?

…with those we can’t get a word in with because the conversation is flowing?

…with those that when ones laughs, so do the rest?

…and when one tears, the others follow suit?

…with those who have been there for far too long?

…with those who know us, inside and out?

Tonight, a tad early in November, me and my high school friends caught up for our annual KK catch up. I wish I remembered the year we started doing this, and who suggested it, and what I got that year and what I bought for someone else… but it has been happening for a WHILE.

Life is busy. We have partners. Kids. Jobs. Responsibilities. Being able to match our schedules with each others is a feat in itself, but with old friends, it shouldn’t be a job… it should be a necessity.

Because it is calming. It releases happy chemicals. You purge. You let out your frustrations. You share funny anecdotes. Like tonight, the top stories were:

Silly husbands

Gorged breasts of breastmilk

“Kids say the darndest things!”

12 year old huskies

Roses

Insane concert tickets prices, and finally –

Meat on steroids

All perfectly NORMAL things to discuss with your besties.

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It was a terrific night, and I love my PA pjs, because you can never have too much Peter Alexander.

“I have too much Peter Alexander!”

SAID NO GIRL EVER.

And a pat on the back for me, as I totally rocked the KK I got for my friend.

Score!

It made me realise a lot of life truths, and the biggest one being, the longer you are friends with someone, the harder it is to separate yourself from them.

And I don’t want to separate myself from these girls, EVER.

And we sure as hell don’t need a reason, like Christmas (though it is a bloody good one!) to make an effort to catch up.

Catching up to see each other is an event in itself.

Happy early Christmas, peeps :):):)

 

 

#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 😉

#611 New neighbours, old neighbours

A pair of brothers, primary-school aged, live next door. Confident, direct, interested. They sat perched on the fence bordering our homes as I put up the washing this afternoon, baby girl on the ground floor trying to scale up our side of the fence to reach them.

“Can we play with her?” the younger one asked.

“Ahhh,” I stalled. I didn’t have any reason to say no, but I had a headache, I needed to start dinner, and I didn’t know where they would play… I hadn’t even met their mother, and so I couldn’t just unceremoniously dump baby girl on her to play with some older boys at her house.

“She’s having an early dinner soon, so I’m not sure,” I bluffed.

“Is that because she’s going to bed earlier?” (I told you, interested).

“No, not really…”

“Maybe we can come over and play after dinner?”

“Yeah.” Push things to after. “We’ll see what happens.”

I then took the washing basket in thinking it was all resolved and nothing would happen, while baby girl jumped on her trampoline and let off some steam.

Well then, I actually started on dinner. And about 45 minutes later, with things well underway, Hubbie home from work and now my splitting headache also far along, I was sitting for a moment on the couch, doing a Bold and the Beautiful catch-up, when something caught my eye out of the front window, some figures coming up the footpath towards the house.

Boys. Barefoot. Bowed heads.

But ready to play with Baby Girl.

I turned to baby girl who hadn’t yet seen them, and when I asked her if she wanted to play with them, here and now, she almost couldn’t believe her stroke of luck.

She led them to the backyard and they jumped away like mad, performing all manner of tricks in the trampoline.

The boys came inside, spoke to us. Looked at our nearby photos, played with her toys. They slam dunked on a basketball hoop we have hanging off a nearby door, and we asked them about their primary school.

They were really gentle and kind with baby girl.

They all played together, just perfectly. And the level of respect they showed to her, just blew me away.

Even besides the impressing me part, I was reminded, and led back to the good ol’ days when I was that young kid. At my neighbours’ house – and I had three friendly neighbour houses who I frequented daily back then – that I knew back to front.

I knew their lives and their families. They knew mine. It was the perfect, best upbringing. Four houses in a row, and all four houses with girls of the same age. It was the stuff of stories. Not even writers could write this stuff and get away with it.

But so too, it ended the way stories do. People grow up. Parents separate. Kids go to private schools and remove themselves. And soon they all moved away.

It doesn’t take away from my awesome childhood memories, and honestly, I have too many. I am still in contact with 2 out of those 3 girls, and even went to their weddings, and they mine, so I think that is a fabulous effort considered.

But I sometimes think, and ponder, how nice it would be for baby girl to grow up amongst that kind of setting. Neighbours her age, where they could spend their days together, outside as kids should, running and bike riding and playing hide and seek within a one block radius, ‘park permitted.’ 🙂

Freedom, and yet safety. Where the parents know each other, know the kids, and all can play together, alternating houses, and yet the parents can still tell their kids friends to ‘go home because we’re having dinner now.’ That kind of honest, direct, freedom.

I thought of all that today. I thought of what I had growing up, and I looked at what was happening now in our house.

The noise, the kids, the neighbours. Her new friends 🙂

The ball rolled over to me as I was chopping cucumbers. I kicked it back to the young boy who took it and slam dunked against the hoop.

Later, Hubbie interrupted their jumping party outside and told them it was now our dinner time. Baby girl waved them off, “bye boys!” while he hoisted them OVER THE FENCE.

Now that’s, a real neighbour. I freaking love it :):):)

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Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash

#595 Post-party in-car D&M

They are becoming more and more frequent, and I LOVE them.

I don’t even know why they weren’t so frequent before… we’re always driving some kind of distance to get to some event/birthday/wedding/party. And yet, maybe because we are now so much more further away from a lot of our family and friends, our time in the car has now been extended…

…Making these moments happen more often. Happily so.

Because it will be the end of a long day or night. Either way baby girl will be sleeping, spent from the day’s playing/activities/charades. And then Hubbie and I will begin to talk.

About everything. Starting with a party debrief. ‘Who said what, why that happened, did you hear about that place?’ Not in a gossip-y way, not at all. It’s more a happy sharing in information, where we laugh, we delve into all kinds of topics and issues, and we reminisce on the day that was, counting our blessings for having the circle that we do, and counting our blessings for each other.

Inevitably, just like today too, after going to a birthday party and then driving home in the late afternoon, we would have had a glass or 5 to drink. Well not me, I’m the driver. But we are in happy, fine form, and start counting the ways in which we are grateful for each other.

We bond. We talk about goals and dreams. We look to the skies, whether they are bright with sunlight, or midnight black, and try to work out what we will do with our lives, how we will achieve it, and what can we do to get to it, together.

And I think I know why I love these conversations so much. Yes we are setting positive goals. Yes we are reconnecting. Yes we are expressing gratitude for those around us, but for each other most importantly.

They are so dear to me, because simply, we are just talking. We have a long space of time, where we can just spill our guts and express our deepest heart’s desires, and just go for it.

It is beautiful, and all of the above things make it more so.