#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…

 

 

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#639 Pool Days no.2

Pool days number 2, and yet it was the first pool day of the Summer season.

And it ain’t Summer yet!

And it was evening!

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Blue water for days. And days and days. A balmy night, splashing, laughter, music, baby girl showing off by blowing bubbles and retrieving rings, and very good company… in fact, the best. 

Yep you guessed it. My sister and bro-in-law’s place.

It was meant to be a ‘quick visit’ because it is a weeknight.

It is NEVER a quick visit.

Hours later, baby girl is requesting mini marshmallow(s) upon mini marshmallow(s), then peanut butter on bread, then tim tams… all the while we are discussing Prince, Madonna, as well as a heady dose of ‘the true meaning of life,’ and then of course the guys take a photo before our nephew exceeds us all and takes lead in the height division.

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Baby girl is not shy. She is a prankster.

Then it is 11pm, and I am looking forward to a measly 4 hours sleep before my work shift tomorrow.

But sometimes, for some people, losing sleep is so worth it.

You know that line Olaf says to Anna in Frozen? She tells the funny and lovable snowman to get away from stoking the fire for her. And he responds

“some people are worth melting for.”

Yep. 🙂

#524 Sister’s impromptu visit AND dessert

It was another fabulous Saturday night surprise, when sis and bro-in-law dropped in late this evening. And as much as I love love LOVE their company, there was a little, tiny itty-bitty, (actually not really that small) icing on the cake that topped it off.

Or should I say, chocolate mousse in a bowl that topped it off?

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I am a chocolate mousse girl, through and through. In fact, I think we need a re-birth of this typically 90s dessert. It is sooo delicious, yet oh-so-simple. Sis does a simple take on it, that leaves it feeling very light and moorish, a complete necessity since chocolate mousse that is too sweet is just NOT the way it’s meant to be. Nor is it meant to be cream. It’s meant to have lightness, air, and yes, a mild sweetness to it. Which is why I proclaim hers, THE BEST.

I hadn’t had it, much less thought about hers or any other chocolate mousse in such a long time, that when I saw it outstretched in her hands when she walked in, I didn’t do the obligatory ‘no, you didn’t have to!’ that so many people do when their guests bring food to their house.

Instead, I was –

“Ohhh, thanks! I haven’t had it in so long! Here I’ll pop it in the fridge straight away…”

Tee hee hee.

A couple of hours later, and baby girl was indulging in her first taste of her Aunty’s choc mousse.

SHE DEVOURED IT.

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Like Mama, like daughter.

Although the choc mousse was a pleasant highlight to the night, aside from that we had an awesome time together, the group of us. More music, more singing, more D&Ms… it’s always a fun and memorable night when its with those you love the most.

Tonight’s playlist included:

Baby I’m a Star – Prince

Are You With Me – Lost Frequencies

Jessie’s Girl – Rick Springfield (random youtube selections were trying to tell Hubbie and bro-in-law something…)

Do I Wanna Know – Arctic Monkeys

And due to some 80s raspy-voiced renaissance, Cyndi Lauper hits made a BIG mark on tonight too.

Sometimes I think, if we were fortunate enough to live right next door to one another, would we tire of seeing each other other all the time?

I don’t have to even think for that answer, really. The response is NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER.

EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER.

EVER.

EVER EVER.

EVER.

..

EVER.

.

 

 

#473 A Mini Me

Having your own kid is super cool. Apart from the loving them until the depths of the earth, reaches of the galaxy, and ends of time thing… it is also awesome, just knowing that they are a version of you.

They have your DNA. They may look like you. Their hands may be slender like yours. Their eyes the same brown, face the same heart shape, and laugh the same adorable cackle you yourself used to have at 3.

These things are kind of out of your control, just as much as they are out of control for your child. They can’t choose their looks or their predisposition to certain things.

But what they CAN control is themselves. And when they choose to do and be like you…

It’s pretty damn cool.

It’s all in the little things. As it always is. But she will want to wear a dress, when I wear a dress. She sees owls on my pyjamas – she wants owls on her pyjamas.

I’m brushing my teeth, and suddenly, because I didn’t hound her this time, she is reaching out and grabbing for her toothbrush, and we stand there side by side, looking at ourselves in the mirror as foam spills from our mouths, grinning.

She finds me putting on make up before going out, and she is then asking me for make up too. I give her some glittery not-obvious stuff, and she applies it to her skin with such careful precision, yet at the end I can’t even see anything there. I smile broadly and tell her she was beautiful to begin with, but “good job!”

I sing to Ricky Martin and Prince – she bops and hums along.

I drink coffee – she drinks babycino.

🙂

Today, she did the cutest thing. During our daily coffee break after lunch, we were seated at the table and enjoying our little time together. She’ll have her babycino and some other sweet, usually some chocolate, while some cake or chocolate too will accompany my cappuccino. As we sat there, I brought the coffee mug to my lips, my left hand naturally going to rest on my hip, and the action made me aware of the hilarity of it, because in our high school years bestie would often be sitting at a desk with one hand on it, the other on her hip. It was funny, because she was sitting – there was no need to put a hand, or any hand on her hips. It was such a standing pose, and here, one hand always found its way there.

Baby girl must have realised my action as I did, because as she drank her babycino, her eyes skimmed over my arm on hip, and she immediately dropped one hand from her cup, and placed it on her hip.

Just like me.

It was a little gesture, but it was also the grandest one.

Just like Mum. She wanted to be just like Mum, whether Mum’s action made sense or not.

Of course, I then dropped it, telling baby girl to hold her cup with two hands (never-ending Mum worry of spilt food/drink taking over) but of course, she wasn’t going to listen to me now, was she?

The hand stayed on her hip, and I let it be. I love my girl 🙂

#419 Spaghetti bolognaise

Phil Collins again. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life…”

No, not really. About a week. But I could look forward to it EVERY DAY.

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I love pasta. I was craving a simple spaghetti bolognaise since last week, and I knew this would go down well with baby girl, as she too, LOVES pasta.

She insisted on it plain, which doesn’t faze me much I have to say. I like her preference for simple things, the fact that she doesn’t need much hoo ha, much salt, much sugar… yeah, she’ll still eat it. But her first preference is plain.

Plain and simple.

Yet even she too, upon later tasting the ‘saucy’ pasta, rubbed her tummy and did “mmm” sounds to confirm that it was, yes, YUM.

Beautiful spaghetti on a weeknight, a glass of red, Prince’s Purple Rain in the background with next-generation-fan baby girl swaying to and fro, surrounded by my family… that’s a pretty perfect night for me 🙂

#388 Babycino break

In order to set a successful tone for a shopping trip, it is essential you pack in the vital vibes early on.

That is, first, coffee.

And in the case of shopping with baby girl, a babycino with two marshmallows please – pink and white.

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(One of each or dramatics will ensue).

It was this simple act of sitting down with her before we started going through shops, that helped us forge ahead and make the trip a great one. And though many parts of our trip were fun and exciting, it was this little act, this little break, this moment in time with my ‘love’ sitting across from me, drinking her babycino like a boss, a seasoned professional, and enjoying that moment with her with the sunshine streaming through the side window, that really made an impact on me.

It was a truly simple, but grateful moment.

And for those playing at home, some of our exciting purchases were these:

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I don’t think I need to tell you what item was for who. Clearly Hubbie had the Prince cd, I had the Wiggles one, and baby girl is totally into 90s Jordan, so…

😉

I mean, Prince in a g-string. How can one get more grateful than to see that?

(Aussie humour – I am LMAO here)…

#309 My town folk and Rain / Bestie’s surprise tree painting

A special edition. I had two interesting and special incidences today, and so I absolutely have to post both.

Lucky me. Double the gratitude:)

Part 1: The Rain.

I had just driven through the most hellish storm imaginable. I actually had thought to come to a complete stop while on the freeway going home from work. Many, many times, I found it almost impossible to see from the white sheets of rain in front of me, sweeping  across my car and enveloping it in a blurry fog of white. It was scary to endure, and I was relieved when after the longest drive, it started to lighten up.

And this, after the most incredible sunset last night. Ahh Melbourne.

Nearing home, the rain lessened. Finally. It had been a tense drive. I had to stop at the shops first, and got out of the car to light, wispy rain settling on the edges of my stray pieces of hair. I walked calmly into the centre.

After my post office stop and before I got to the supermarket, I heard it on the roof: the intense rattling.

Surely it wasn’t raining so hard, again, so soon after the hour of intense downpour I had just experienced on the way home?

15 minutes later with my bag of groceries in one hand, I was standing under the shelter out the front of the centre, looking in dismayed disbelief over the buckets of ran being heaved upon the car park.

My car was so close, yet so, so far.

I stood with others also holding out for the rain to ease. There were about 7 or so other shoppers, and I looked out at the car park, wondering just when and how long it would be until the rain gave out. It was heavy, and unrelenting.

The rain slowed, but only the slightest amount, not enough to brave the weather and walk through it… and yet, people did. Almost all the people who had been waiting decided to head on out to their cars. I watched, curious, as one by one they left, while I stood there, waiting, watching the Rain.

And then more came. I observed as people wandered in to the centre, soaking wet from the car park; and vice versa, as people exited the centre, and after a brief pause, a reshuffling of bags or searching of keys, kept on walking into the heavy rain towards their car.

The rain had lessened, ever so slightly. But I could tell what kind of deceiving rain this was, what with its big drops and generous weight. I wasn’t going out there, and getting soaked in 3 seconds time. I would keep waiting.

A man walked out of the centre with his son. They walked out and into the rain with little hesitation. A young couple walked out towards the car park as if they were taking a leisurely stroll.

Holiday-stayers, I observed. They don’t care if they get wet – they’re on holiday time.

An older man walked past me from the car park in his shorts and singlet, losing his thong in a deep puddle of water. He slowly stopped, walked back a few steps, his bare foot splashing through the puddle, before grasping the thong with his toe and balancing it back on. A nearby man smiled and they exchanged some words and a laugh before the man walked on, feet soaking, into the centre.

Ok, he mustn’t be driving. He can’t drive like that.

A woman walked out with her son. Flowy dress, telling him “now, don’t run!”

Run, why would you run? Ok it’s easier for her, he’s like 10, she doesn’t have to put him in the car herself.

Still I watched with how casually they made their way into the rain.

They’re all on holiday. I stood there in my wedges, pondering this fact. Skinny black jeans and a stripy singlet top. I was coming home from work. I had to drive home. I wasn’t on holiday time, not yet. These guys were not fazed at all if they got wet. They were moving about without a care in the world. I considered every justification possible.

Then, a woman walked towards the centre from the car park. As she moved forward, she too like the man earlier, lost her sandal in a puddle of water. She paused, her other foot hovering, as she fished it out of the water. I heard the splosh as it was brought forward and onto her foot. Her long flowy dress barely touched the deep puddles beneath her as she kept on going.

It hit me. My justifications were suddenly unworthy. These weren’t ALL holiday-makers. More than half were locals. And here I was, newbie in town, the girl from the ‘burbs looking on and wanting to avoid getting wet.

Screw that shit.

I waited for a slight break in traffic in front of the busy centre, and then started forward. Within seconds I could feel the warm drops sinking into all parts of my clothing, and it squeezed itself between my toes. My car was barely a minutes walk from the shopping centre shelter, and yet by the time I got to the car and plonked down in the driver’s seat, I looked down to rain splattered dark drops all over my clothes, saw the water on my arms as if someone had thrown a bucket on me, and felt my matted hair sticking in sections to my head.

And I loved it! I felt invigorated, refreshed, and alive.

Why the hell did I not do this earlier? We had moved to the beach for the lifestyle, which meant I had to live, LIKE the lifestyle. The locals had inspired me.

I wanted to live on the beach? Then live like I’m on the beach.

I genuinely, do love rain. And I also love my townsfolk 🙂

 

Part 2: The Painting.

I headed over to the parcel as my MIL was putting down baby girl for a nap. I had noticed it before getting changed out of my wet clothes, but hadn’t bothered to investigate further, feeling sure it was the coasters I had ordered a long time ago. Surely, most definitely, it was them. But as I picked up the parcel and the envelopes that read “card only” indicating the late Christmas arrival, the name at the head of the label jumped out at me.

SmikG.

Hmmm. I didn’t remember putting down my author’s alias when I had ordered the coasters. In fact, I don’t remember putting it down anywhere at all. As I looked at the parcel some more, with my actual name and address underneath my alias, the writing grew so familiar to me, that by the time I had turned the parcel around to see who the sender was, I was absolutely definite on who it was from, even though I had no idea what it was.

Sure enough, I was right.

I first opened the Christmas cards, wanting to save the intriguing and exciting surprise package from bestie ’til last. As I opened it, my very slight suspicions, and my judgments based on the weight and size, were confirmed.

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My very talented best friend has recently started painting again, after a long hiatus between high school and now. I actually had NO IDEA how talented she was until she started posting her work on facebook. I had commented on a painting she had done of a similar tree, as I love trees, and all symbols and images associated to them, as mentioned here, and here. However I didn’t think she would ever send me an actual, original painting of hers.

I immediately fell in love. It was perfect. The vibrant colour was reminiscent of our friendship too, an ode to high school, Prince, Purple Rain, and so much more. It was so personal of her to give me something so beautiful and creative of hers, and I immediately felt emotional.

I called her up to express my profound thanks, and later I placed it up high in our bedroom, until we find a more permanent home for it.

…When I walked into the room hours later, the painting of the purple tree was a sight for sore eyes. I didn’t realise how much colour was lacking in our room, in our house, and I was sick of seeing beige boxes shoved into corners all over the place, only I didn’t know how much until this masterpiece entered our home.

I love it. I am really grateful for this personal present gifted to me by a very dear friend, the heartfelt meaning behind it, and the sincere generosity of bestie to even think of giving it to me in the first place.

 

Dancing in the rain amidst friendly townfolk and purple trees by bestie. Not a bad day. Not a bad day AT ALL. 🙂