While we reel from our latest bout of childcare disasters, a sparkling moment today when a true true friend brought her lovely little boy over and looked after the terrible two for a few hours so we could both make an appearance at work.
In the interest of thinking kindly of my short people, I’m recording her reaction to them, here:
you have the most wonderful, generous, very bright kids and even though they
want to kill each other occasionally, they’re still reasonable!!
i just wanted to say that i had fun today and i hope the kids
did too. my favourite memory is in the last 10 mins before chris came, we
stomped down the hallway, a la pied piper, singing, “fruit salad yummy
yummy” and even A, who brought up the rear, was stomping and singing along.
it was a perfect memory.
you need wholemeal bread as they all had a vegemite sandwich.
also, there are only two bananas left. i brought one with me for A – despite
this, a banana monster was apparently set loose for
when i turned around, bang, the bowl was nearly empty.
they ate bananas, apple, tangelo, sultanas (i brought them, hope that’s ok),
a vegemite sandwich, and a partridge in a pear tree
See: the next time I feel like selling them, I can at least be sure of getting a decent price.
I have two things for you and your pelvic floor exercise regrets:
- A distraction: How did Edith ever expect anyone to believe she had no regrets when she always always always looked so stunningly beautifully miserable?
- An initiative: Boy, do I have a market research gig for you.
When you are so sick of a cough that makes you feel like you’re hacking up a lung, all the while presenting quite a case for why you should have done those pelvic floor exercises before, during and after the numerous incubations. Seriously, its becoming quite an issue. God knows what it will be like in another 12 weeks. Digression. Sorry.
Anyway, when you’re so over coughing, you come home and consume two slices of white bread with butter and raw garlic (its Linda’s Mum, Agata’s, home remedy) have home made pizza with about three garlic cloves cooked on it, and then a few fish oil tablets before bed.
Oh the heartburn. Oh the garlicky fishy burps.
In light of my scary dark moments a few weeks back, I’ve decided to relish the happier lighter moments as well, rather than just taking them for granted by not referring to them and not writing dark, grim, morose posts. So, happiness is:
– the boys attacking me as I walk through the door each night
– the boys climbing into bed and falling back to sleep but not at FIVE AM like this morning
– Chef’s little text messages throughout the day asking how I am and how my day is going
– the projects I get to work on at work, and the sense of self and satisfaction I get from them
– cooking, baking, cooking, baking, cooking, baking – and seeing how happy and appreciative people are of it
– Oscar’s spontaneous cuddles, and Felix’s relentless smooches and sweet nothings he says to me each and every day. Apparently I’m as beautiful as a swan, a princess and a unicorn.
– clear winter days with stunning blue skies and not a cloud to be seen.
– reading Dooce every day and not feeling alone in the weird and wacky world of parenting
– reading Go Fug Yourself and feeling like I’ve had a drug fix
– my friends. Knowing they know me and that my silence is not intentional, just appalling correspondence ability. Knowing they have similar thoughts and experiences as I have and drawing immense comfort from not being alone in any of those.
– Chef’s custard.
I’m so confused. Bec, you own yoga pants and now I find out you actually do yoga and with someone called Clare and in your kitchen? Are you doing yoga with that serenely scary woman on Foxtel?
Has the world has gone mad?
On a lighter, far more encouraging note, I discovered today that one of my bestest school friends is a) back in the country and b) on the verge of a new romance. How cool is that. Welcome back Dot!!!