#887 The things that she says…

… Makes me feel like we are doing an alright job with her.

Or maybe I give myself, ourselves, too much credit. Maybe it is ALL her. Maybe it is the stage she is at; maybe it’s the understanding that comes with growth; maybe even it’s all her class activities from kinder and swimming that have her responding and speaking with such care, eloquence, and love.

Some examples:

1. “Mama… can me please have teddy bear biscuit?”

When I respond yes, she asks quietly

“Is that good manners?”

Oh darling. Yes yes and MORE yes.

 

2. When we are heading into the shops quickly.

“Now honey, we are only going in and out, THAT’S IT.”

“Ok Mummy, me listen to you all day, I promise.”

 

3. When I am mad and frustrated, she grabs a hold of me.

“Mummy… look at me. Calm down, ok? Everything be alright.”

Oh, it is laughable and oh-so-cute.

 

4. I am driving.

“Oh, that person is driving like a f*&king idiot!”

“Mama don’t say that word. That very bad word!”

 

:):):) Peeps, she is only 4… and she already knows better than me!

 

 

#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 ‘café-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

#816 Second Mother’s Day celebration at kinder

Winter had arrived early.

The cold snap was upon us. Icy winds and stay-at-home conditions meant all my running around after dropping baby girl off at kinder was definitely NOT what the doctor ordered.

The second half of the day was just as mind-numbing. A child getting progressively sick as the day wore on (I am not surprised anymore with all these grots at kinder), more freezing weather, a worsening mood brought on by stress and pressure and also, weird body feelings (please don’t let me get sick)…

Punctuated beautifully by a C U Next Tuesday of a job that meant Hubbie and I were scatter-brained and pushed to the limit this evening in trying to submit a form that HAD to be completed tonight… and it wasn’t even for us!

It wasn’t the best of days.

But the middle part, WAS. Because it was the Mother’s Day celebration at kinder day, so in amongst all of today’s crap, I got to spent some beautiful time with my baby girl, watching her play, and getting cute little gifts from her, to me.

What? What is crossroads?

Yes I like my eggs.

How often must I say I have work to do that she thinks, I actually like it?!

I must admit though, I ♥♥♥ that letter.

And my most favourite accessory of the day that I can take with me everywhere –

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Another Mum poked fun at the fact that our necklaces were so stunning, sarcastically speaking, and quietly I thought –

“I would actually wear mine out.”

It may not cost $100, and it may not be made from specially sourced and original jewels… but they were threaded by my baby girl’s hands, and that is more precious and prized than any store-bought item… 🙂

#791 A rainbow ice-cream couch date

I knew what I was doing tonight before this day had even started.

That’s because last night, being Saturday night, when Hubbie messaged me at work, from the comforts and warmth of our home, he sent me a photo with the delightful caption:

“F$%k that’s nice.”

While I was doing one of my last late, late shifts in a while, he was cosied up on the couch with baby girl, enjoying some gourmet rainbow ice cream.

And in my mind, Sunday night was suddenly set.

I organised for myself a date with the couch, watching Bachelor in Paradise, and… the rainbow ice cream.

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And, it happened. Who said dreams don’t come true? 😉

#779 Me (Bachelor) in Paradise

***THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS***

Now don’t get me wrong: I don’t watch trash TV.

Well, wait there. To like, one exception, which I won’t even ADMIT as trash, but if someone were to find out I’ve been watching The Bold and the Beautiful for the last 24 years, to the extent I am still desperate to keep up-to-date with it all and therefore have at least 100 episodes on my Foxtel Planner taking up 95% (true story), well then I would accept that conclusion, somewhat.

I mean it can’t be that much trash. It is soap, rather. Aired in a gazillion countries too, thank you very much.

Other than that, I don’t engage in much on-screen reality drama. Big Brother was a fave but that is long gone from Australian screens. I don’t mind the cooking fights on My Kitchen Rules too.

Yeah, I don’t watch MUCH. 😉

The Bachelor is another naughty one I like to indulge in, but let’s be brutally honest: if you’re not liking the main Bachelor/ette, then you’re not really going to watch their love story then, are you?

The first Australian Bachelor was gold. I loved watching Sam Wood’s journey as well, especially since I was pushing for Snez to win (and she did!) so that was satisfying. Sophie Monk’s story was exciting, because, Sophie, and then the Bachelor series that saw Blake Harvey pick Sam Frost was exciting on a whole other level, because it was a train wreck. Still, on the interest level, it worked.

So when the premise for a new Bachelor-style show was brought up, where contestants of both sexes of various series of the show would come together to find love, AGAIN, I was a little intrigued.

Because, you didn’t have to just like ONE love journey.

You could focus on so many MORE.

And what would happen if let’s say, one woman was picking between two guys, or a girl entered ‘paradise’ and suddenly 3 guys were up for ‘getting to know her’ a bit better?

Enter FABULOUS TRASH TV PREMISE!

I have been loving this show. It is still in early stages but even so, tonight had me bargaining and firmly telling baby girl “no, Mummy show now,” as Hubbie as I sat on the couch watching the unfolding drama and juice.

It is insanely good. It’s not just about who likes who: motive to stay on the show is mixed in, with girls giving out roses to the guys one week, and then guys giving them out to the girls the other week. There is always an uneven number of guys and girls so that someone has to go.

And so not only are they thinking of who they like, but if they don’t have a chance with a certain person of interest, and the opposite sex are giving out roses that week, they need to think “how can I stay?”

???

Strategy is HUGE. We got so into the rose ceremony tonight as one guy who has been playing the game too well, started to come undone as he had to choose between two girls that he has been playing off against, and started wildly whispering to the guy next to him “pick Flo! You have to pick Flo!” (so that he doesn’t feel bad if she goes home).

To which his mate said “I can’t.”

The moment came, where this guy, who had essentially promised he would pick Flo, DIDN’T PICK FLO.

Oh, the drama!

There were expletives and gasps and sighs and yelling, and they were all from our couch!

And baby girl, who was in the middle of it all, then said “F$%*ing!”

I turned to her. “Baby girl don’t say that word.”

“F$%*ing!” she repeated smiling.

F$%*. I mean damn. Will have to watch our over-excited language while watching this show… :O :O :O

#733 Holiday BBQ

It’s not common of us to stay home when we have days off together, let alone when we go away. But today Hubbie had a great thought while we were out grabbing some food for lunch.

“Why don’t we do a bbq back at home?”

Home, for these two nights anyway, has been the place in Barwon Heads we’ve been staying at. Our balcony looks out onto the street, and there is a small yet very practical outdoor electric barbeque for use.

Sure, it meant we would have to do some extra prep here and there. But for some reason it appealed to me. Dinner by us, at home. I think it appealed in some level to all of us. We could relax. Go at our own pace. Baby girl could float in and out of the rooms as she pleased. We didn’t have to stress about noise levels. The toilet was right there. It was cheaper. And I could wear trakkies on the balcony if I wanted to.

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It was great. The sun was shining; fellow apartment dwellers were on the same thread and bbq-ing out in the sun like we were; we waved from up high to passers-by; and then sat down to eat our simple spread.

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Sure, we grabbed some takeaway chips too, just to add to that can’t-be-f$%ed holiday vibe. But it was different, it was relaxing, and though we were only at home, we still felt like, we were away.

 

 

#720 Teamwork and vomit.

Today we f&%ed up royally in the parenting game.

When I got home from work, baby girl engulfed me in a huge hug and flurry of kisses, before going on to explain that when she swallowed, it felt a bit sore… it tickled her a bit.

Having heard her cough a little last night, I thought she might be a little run down. Nothing major.

Even so, when Hubbie came home from work, together we asked her if she was okay to head out, or if she wanted to stay home and chill. Not only was it a Saturday afternoon, but it was the beginning of our holidays together, and we had been wanting to check out this Boho Luxe festival at Carlton… because, going BOHO.

She was first this way, and then that… before finally deciding “let’s go.”

I wiped her nose in the car as we drove the hour there, and then she fell asleep.

I gave her some snacks upon arrival. She was good. We walked around the market – it was not so good. Sure they had things like homewares and jewellery and tents and caravans, and clothes, ALL the clothes –

Wait. Hold up.

They had kids clothes, yes some gorgeous stalls. They had women’s clothes aplenty. 

But the main reason we had come, after Hubbie had been busting me for weeks about it…

The men’s clothing?

Practically NONE.

A couple of shirts here, and a small rack down one end that looked like second-hand wear… that’s it. How you could promote and create a Boho Festival, say that Byron Bay is coming down to Melbourne, and then NOT have men’s clothing, is beyond me. Ridiculous. Very, very disappointing.

But we had driven all that way, and baby girl was whining, so we headed towards the food trucks to get her some chips. But nope, that would also NOT DO.

Fine. Did she want a happy meal on the way home? (see we were horribly failing the parenting game even before the peak nightmare moment of the night).

Yes, she did. She was tired and dragging her feet, and we thought best we don’t push it, so we left for home… another hour drive.

Into Maccas we went, to be met with a 20 minute wait at the drive-through. Why we didn’t walk in and order was beyond me… oh that’s right, we were crabby from having driven into the Boho Luxe festival for nothing, and just couldn’t be stuffed.

It only got worse at home, when she then wouldn’t eat the happy meal, she just nibbled at some bread… and when I felt her head, she was hot… and then guess what?

The digital thermometer wasn’t working, and the kids Panadol meant to reduce the fever (that I wasn’t even sure of since I couldn’t get a reading, but a mothers touch just knows) was out of date, from November 2017.

Sigh. What else could go wrong?

Lots apparently. I sent Hubbie off on a wild goose chase, where he went to the supermarket to find they had no kids Panadol. No nearby chemists were open at that time either. While he was out and baby girl was lying on the floor complaining of being cold and watching Nick Jr, I called the ‘Nurse on Call’ and got some numbers of ‘kind of’ nearby places that were open then.

And off again Hubbie went. But by the time he got home, it was very late, and now baby girl was beyond reasoning.

She would not have the Panadol.

She was crying, and crying. Absolutely impossible. I tried to tell her that she was too hot, and that if she didn’t have the sugary sweet liquid, she’d have to go to a doctor. Nope she didn’t want that… or the Panadol. Sigh.

And when I went to check her temperature under her arm, she was so freaked out by the pointy shaped thermometer, thinking it to be a needle, that she pressed herself against her bedhead as I brought it near. I somehow convinced her it was ALL OK, and came back with a reading of 37.6 celcius. Not quite too high, but getting there. And after much tears, I got her to drink some of her Panadol…

the sticky and sweet liquid went down her throat… she wretched…

she gagged…

a little bit of the liquid bubbled up from her throat and out of her mouth…

she gagged again…

“No, no, have some water, you’ll be okay…”

BLEURGH!

She vomited, all down to the floor, somehow missing herself but getting my pjs and a whole leg covered in the gunk.

Ugh.

Oh man. Could this day get any worse?

After cleaning her up, we left everything as it was, and she fell asleep.

So what the hell am I grateful for here?

???

Our stupid trip to the massively disappointing Boho Luxe festival made our sweet little girl even worse as she exhausted herself walking, and by not eating anything fell into an even deeper spell of fever.

We felt horrible. We still do.

But even so, through the frustration and phone calls, the running here and there for Panadol, the “get me more paper towels!” and getting cranky with one another, we came together for the most important cause, and somehow got to the end of it all.

For one day anyway.

It’s called Parenthood, it’s called survival, and it’s what all parents experience at one time or another, the true test of a relationship – kids.

If you can practice teamwork through kids, bohos and vomit, and get through – you’re doing well.