I know mum is on the mend when:
– she went through each article of clothing she asked me to bring home to wash, detailing how I was to wash (or soak, or spray) each item.
Yeah, because I don’t do much washing.
– when she calls me to say she’s moving to the rehab hospital early tomorrow and chastises me for not bringing home her slippers or one of the magazines I’d taken in for her. And then says things like, “I guess they’ll help me pack up my things”
You think? Nah, I reckon they’ll just stand there, waiting. And then make you carry your own bag.
It all just heightens my awareness and appreciation of just how hard Chef has worked over the last 16 years to de-activate my panic- and anxiety-laden immediate reactions to the world that were imbibed in me from birth.
Naturally I’ve come home and just dumped the lot in the machine*.
After little sleep on my birthday night and a night from hell last night (with Jasper and Grover tag-teaming wake-ups throughout the night and an early start today I was so worried about over-sleeping when J or G weren’t up I was in the grip of fretful wakeful sleep anyway) there were periods of time yesterday that the whole room would spin around me. Clockwise. Not too fast.
What with the toing and froing to hospitals and the like, time has slipped away from me.
School holidays start at the end of next week.
Until the end of January.
And that means Christmas is very very close.
I need to do some serious baking but just don’t seem to be able to find the time.
And I really need to get some batches of jam made, capitalising on the stone fruits while they’re around.
But I just don’t seem to be able to find the time.
And this incredible weather we’re having (think big rolling tropical-like thunderstorms … or at least the threat thereof) is wreaking havoc with my washing capacity and capability.
And then there is the whole crafting activity that needs to take place.
I really need to order the fancy pants, organic, grown in fields of gold, slept on beds of feathery down ham.
Although I did make mayonnaise this afternoon.
As Joke makes his own and has kindly provided a crabcake recipe and I wanted to do it justice.
It is so freakin’ easy to make I believe it now to be as bigger crime to use store-bought mayo as it would be to buy salad dressing.
That said, if anyone has a recipe for how to make your own ranch dressing, I’d really appreciate it.
Anyway, I used some of it on a chicken salad we took to Felix’s school’s Carols night.
To which we were late so had to park miles away up a very steep hill and sit at the back where there was more playing and farnarkling than there was singing.
And Felix disappeared the minute we arrived.
Oscar asked if he could go and play touch footy with these other
vagrants boys and I was all ‘sure! go for it!’ as seriously, my chicken salad was way awesome and I was quite content to forget I had children at all.
Jasper danced away to various carols but we kept forgetting to sing along.
The people beside us kept smiling at me.
And I sort of smiled back but not in that ‘hi! how are you way’ but more that ‘oh hello, isn’t this a lovely gathering of families under increasingly storm-ominous clouds’.
So when we were about to leave and their daughters all came fawning over Grover did I discover they go to school with Oscar.
Sometimes the fact he can’t talk is really not helpful at all.
Anyway, I look over, realising I had only two children in vision, to see Oscar in the midst of a pretty full-on touch footy match.
And internally I’m all, ‘oh God’.
And then I see one of these
ramshakle mob boys give Oscar the ball.
And did Oscar play awesome touch footy or what!
The boys bedroom is a tragedy.
Books have been used to form some sort of moat between Felix’s bed and the bookshelves.
A renewed joy in the toys they own has seen the various IKEA tins of figurines back on high rotation. But there are empty tins and figurines strewn across in the room in some weird homage to the Western Front.
Further to the figurine encore, Felix has discovered he owns many of the Star Wars lego ships he wants for Christmas, so the lego is back on duty.
Which means it.is.e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e.
I’ve told the boys that if they die during the night they have to come and get me as there’s no way I’m torturing my soles (hahahaha geddit!) to cross their bedroom floor to care for them.
I feel like a very neglectful parent for the state of their beds.
I’m struggling to remember when I last changed Felix’s sheets.
The boys have moved from doonas to a sheet and cotton blanket. But Felix, who I believe would probably still be wearing shorts even if we were in the grip of an icestorm, just has a sheet.
It’s not even tucked in.
He just kind of wraps himself in it.
I reckon he looks homeless.
So tonight I asked if he’d like me to tuck it in and he was all – ‘no way! This way I can take it with me however I want to sleep’.
As you were.
I’m going to go make some gingerbread men and other shapes.
A Felix moment:
Felix: Mum, I think I saw two lizards mating
Me: Really, where
Felix: At school.
Felix: Either that or they were just trying to climb over a very big stick.
Don’t try and understand. Just enjoy it.
*and it all came up a treat