#1429 Sharing the beach love

Okay, so it’s not MY beach. But when your friends visit you from across town and ask for a beach-playdate-destination-recommendation, you kinda feel like a part of you is being exposed, on show for all to see.

I was pleased, because it was a pretty perfect beach day.

Still, sunny, but with some cloud cover at times. The water was mild. The kids had shallow waters.

Us Mums were (mostly) happy. Kids make that sentence ‘mostly.’ 🤣

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But it wasn’t just the fun and frivolity of being on sand, or wading on water that made today fun and totally chillax-worthy.

I felt there was a lot of meaning attached to the day. Sure we were on the beach and all, but I couldn’t help thinking of how we had come to the beach that day.

I was thinking of friends, and friendship, A LOT. It was two of my oldest friends that I was with today. They with their brood, me with mine. And it had nothing to do with watching the kids play, fight, argue over who had the body board next or lie in the water and float, things we used to imagine way back when in high school when we’d say to one another that our kids would be friends just as we were.

It was more about the ‘time.’ That all-too-important commodity that everyone argues they have little to none of. I was thinking of how we were all there on the beach, dedicated to the task of spending time together, our kids having fun together, while there were so many other things in our life distracting us, so many other things we could do, and so many other places we could be.

But we chose to be there.

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It was humbling. It was heart-warming. When someone chooses you to be the place they spend their time with, it is something special. In a world where the word ‘busy’ flies out of our mouths all too often, it was a day where we chose each other, and in doing so made one of the best sacrifices of time and best decisions possible:

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Because we made memories for not only us, but THEM. ❤🏖

#1404 My mini Angel

I plopped down on the couch after school pick up this afternoon, tired, uninspired and still feeling ‘ugh.’

There is no worse feeling than feeling – ‘UGH.’

I channel surfed. I soon, amazingly, saw that an episode of Angel was to be starting shortly.

Angel? What, MY Angel? I’ve said it so many times before but I’ll say it again: when you see a show on TV that you have in your DVD collection, for some reason there is an intense urge to WATCH IT IMMEDIAELY ON TV…. even as like I said, you can watch it on demand whenever you like…

Because you have your own copy.

But as always, I started to watch. I had to do dinner…

But, stuff that. I kept on watching.

Baby girl happened across a fight scene, and I tried to quickly change the channel – not so much for the violence, it was more about these kinds of faces –

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Vampire faces.

She was onto me though, and asked to watch it, but I said it was a grown up show that Mummy used to watch and tried to steer her away.

However she came in again towards the last 10 minutes… and this time I went ‘stuff it.’

(I won parenting today).

I warned her though! I said “I don’t want you having nightmares!”

“You can leave if you get scared.”

“You know this is all pretend, it’s pretend okay?”

She excitedly sat next to me and got comfy in the couch, and so I began the Angel world-building…

“That’s a bad guy. Don’t worry Angel is trying to kill him. He’s bad. He’s a vampire.”

“Angel is a vampire too, but he’s a good vampire.”

“Honestly don’t worry about that guy. He’s bad.”

“That’s how vampires die… don’t freak out! It’s just dust.”

… and so her introduction to Angel was born. ♥

 

#1356 My tribe is sweeter than pie

You know what great friends are?

It is walking out of a restaurant with them on a Friday night, and discovering they are all parked that way ⬅️ , while you are parked a 6 minute walk that way. ➡️

And they all without hesitation or having to look at one another say “we’ll walk you.”

Friendship is like a flower.

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A bit like the flower in my dessert tonight. Exotic, pretty and delicate, precious and sweet.

People think it is easy to make friends. Sure the ‘making’ is easy. Making good ones that last, is the hard bit.

That’s why great friends are so special.

They are exotic, in their ability to transport you to another place and time with their words.

They are pretty, in that their insides match their outsides, as the more you bond, the more you open up to one another… and the more beautiful they become in their honesty.

Delicate, because friendship is such, a powerful thing to behold but also a tender thing to break.

Precious because it is a treasure to find good friends! When you find them, don’t let them go.

And lastly, friendship is so, so sweet. But unlike the sickly sweetness of my banoffee desert where I just had to stop it was too much, friendship is exactly the opposite.

It is so sweet, that it is never enough.

I’ve realised that lately. I’ve been thinking a lot about my tribe. Those people in your life that fill you up with their presence. You leave their company, filled to the brim, your well of water full of their goodness, happiness, love and support.

It makes you feel alive. It makes you feel inspired, revitalised, like you can take on the world.

And yet you can never have enough.

I had a good think about my tribe the other day. And I realised with no surprise, that my oldest school friends were firmly on the list.

And they are sweeter than any dessert pie. 🥧

 

 

 

#1352 My rings, his rings

I looked at the hand resting on his leg. Glanced at his other hand, holding the steering wheel.

Both his wedding and engagements rings were missing.

And something else was in its place.

I think it speaks volumes for Hubbie that he has a better memory of this than I do, the giver of the rings… but that’s just what I did. Years and years ago when we were still ‘boyfriend girlfriend,’ I gave him a couple of rings.

They weren’t rings that I had bought specifically for him… they had been my rings. They had been wrapped around my fingers for years, and then one day, I decided I wanted him to have them.

My rings.

I am honestly surprised I ever did this. More so because I am a hoarder and keep a lot (sorry Marie Kondo). I’m guessing I gave them away because he bought me rings to wear, from him…

I am also guessing, that I was feeling a lot of love when I gave him something that was so precious to me.

And when I look at those rings today, I feel it even more.

Because a while ago, he went out on a mission to find them. Back at his parents’ house, he found the two bands I gave him when we were still in our teens, and since that discovery has worn them on his fingers ever since.

One of them I think I recall buying myself. It is silver or something like that, and has about 6 hearts in a row, in a right-side up and upside-down pattern.

The other ring is possibly decagon shaped. It is super thin, also silver… and I think someone bought it for me. It may have been a cousin from overseas, but I’d be lying if I said that was the truth…

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And he wears both, on his pinkie fingers.

I noticed it again today. We were in the car and I noticed that his $$$ wedding and engagement bands were gone… instead replaced with those old silver pieces that wouldn’t be worth much together, let alone on their own.

And I smiled. He wore those, because they meant more to him. They mean more to him.

Those rings go back, to the beginning. ♥♥

 

 

#1283 My new furry friend

I haven’t written too much about the feline addition to our family. To be honest, I am a bit hard on Mister F.

I know I am being totally unfair. At the beginning I would constantly reference him to my childhood cat… let’s call her ‘Incredible.’ Incredible was a beautiful tabby. She was smart and friendly, with a touch of cheekiness and strong foundations in dependability, and was so obedient. Oh my. She never misbehaved or did anything wrong, and easily became the favourite cat of my parents too.

She was, quite simply, Incredible. 

She wouldn’t even meow when she wanted to be let out. You would just notice her gone, and then find her by the back door waiting for someone to come along and see her.

Incredible had a strong sixth sense too. I remember a few times in my late teens when I came home, and she was sitting on the front porch step, waiting for me to walk up even though I had been in Hubbie’s (then boyfriend) car for 10 minutes, having some kind of argument.

She sat and waited patiently.

I remember another time in my early teens, when I came outside to the back step and started to cry. Something had made me very sad. And she just stayed there with me. She didn’t meow for food. She didn’t do anything to suggest she wasn’t aware of my state of being… rather the way she went silent, sitting by my side and just being there, showed to me that she knew.

She was there for me.

It was a very hard day when I realised she wasn’t eating. I immediately knew something was up. A vet visit discovered a tumour, and it had spread inside of her. She was subsequently put to sleep.

My childhood best friend of 11 and a half years was gone.

I can then be forgiven for taking so long to get another cat. 16 years in fact.

I didn’t realise how much of Incredible was still in me. How much of her I still mourned when we got Mister F.

Mister F would jump up on the island bench… repeatedly – “Mister F! How dare you! Incredible never did that!”

Mister F started scratching our couch – “Mister F! Stop it! You’re so stubborn! Incredible always listened to us!”

Mister F would not eat, shock horror, cooked chicken – “If Incredible was here, she would smash your meal! You don’t appreciate good food, pft.”

Chicken was Incredible’s favourite.

But I’ve realised I have to lay off Mister F. I have to give him space to be his own cat.

I have to give him space to be his own kind of Incredible.

Today he showed me something that twigged something deep inside of me. I had come home upset about something, and sat on the couch quite despondent… he reached his paws up to the couch, before jumping up next to me.

He didn’t just stay there though. He went further, placing his paws on my legs, as if to say “hey, I’m here.”

I pet him. Sure this cat wanted attention. But again and again he came back, resting his paws on my leg, and I couldn’t help but think, ‘there’s something here.’

Just like that day on the back step with Incredible, now I could see Mister F’s sixth sense… there was something incredible happening.

Mister F was there for me. And he got in quite close, leaning against me as I sat there, thinking.

We can’t all be Incredible. But in Mister F’s case, I think he is on his way to becoming Mister Fantastic.

#1269 Sick Sunset

I am sick.

With a capital S-I-C-K. 

The one particular thing good about being struck down with flu symptoms this week is that it’s not… next week.

Birthday week.

Grasping at straws I know. Glass half-full syndrome, I know.

But this sunset. I caught a glimpse of it, and seeing the clouds getting pushed aside by those magnificent and vibrant orange-yellow colours… the 16 year-old in me went – “sick.”

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And judging by my definitions in an earlier post, I thought it was quite funny.

I also thought, “I want to be that orange, that yellow.”

“I want to push through the clouds.”

 

#1254 The first production

Hubbie and I are always telling baby girl she can pick any extra-curricular activity she likes… like sport, or a musical instrument.

But tonight another area of possible interest emerged…

Because tonight, baby girl was a penguin.

She was in her Madagascar school production 🙂

She had no leading role. Cuter though, she was part of a whole swagger of penguins (more like, a waddle) and they were all dressed in black and white, wearing white vests with ties, and orange hats on their head to serve as beaks.

Oh my. How my eyes welled up.

They came on stage twice during the show. We found her amidst the groups, pointed and clapped and cheered. At the end of the show the entire school came onto the stage, and the preps were at the front, youngest as they are…

And guess who was clear and centre in front of us?

Our ♥

I tell you, watching her perform her moves, sing along with the group and make out the actions, looking out into the crowd while beaming happily, my heart actually SUNG.

My eyes welled up so much, I could barely see. Hubbie and I waved at her excitedly. Blew her kisses. Gave her plenty of thumbs up.

And I couldn’t help but be transported to when I was 16. Sure, a tad older than baby girl. But I was in year 10, and remember being part of about 7 acts for our end of school revue.

I remember the buzz clearly. I remember the feeling of excited anticipation as people rushed behind the curtain. It was dark, and it was all happening in a frenzied quiet.

It was magic.

I remember that fondly. Sure I never went into that line of work, but I developed a tremendous amount of respect for those that do, as I got a taste of it myself… I felt what it was like, to be a performer. Where the world is your stage…

I don’t know what the future holds for baby girl. But I do know that she had a great time tonight, and that is as good a start as any to start creating good first-time memories… ♥

(waddle waddle waddle).