Don't mind if I do

Inspired by J's post yesterday, I are a bunch of cheese, crackers and bacon for dinner, which I washed down with a glass of red wine. Treat yo'self! Yeah! 

I also made this skillet cookie for sweet treats. Remind me never to do that again. Skillet cookies seem like a great idea but they are not. Neither cookie nor cake, they just make me confused. 

Treat yo'self

Last week I was walking down Smith Street with Little Bean when I suddenly realised I was starving. Minutes later I walked past Peko Peko. Or to be more accurate I walked past the window of Peko Peko until I got to the door at which point I walked in the door. Why the hell not enjoy some delicious Japanese for lunch?! As I looked at the menu I felt torn, I wanted something delicious, satisfying, fresh, hearty. I decided I wanted the spinach salad and maybe a croquette. Maybe one tempura prawn too. But I felt like that would be too expensive and I thought maybe it was a jerk act ordering just one croquette and one tempura prawn. But hell, they are on the menu as single items, why shouldn't I order those things. And why shouldn't I spend an extra five bucks on my lunch just once in a while. Treat yo'self! Is this that thing people talk about? Women who can't say no, who don't ask for what they want because society makes them think they don't deserve it? I think it is! Or something like it. And let me tell you that lunch was delicious because I ordered all the things I wanted!!!

I don't know if it's society's fault or my fault or what, but why the hell should a person think they can't order the things from a menu that they want. I mean that is fucking ridiculous! Ladies (and gentlemen), it is time to treat yo'self. I mean, if the lobster is five times the price of everything on  the menu and you're broke, I guess I can see why you'd order something else, but if you've decided to eat at a restaurant just eat what you want.

And to be very clear I am talking both figuratively and literally here. If there is one benefit to aging it is seeing the world more clearly and seeing yourself more clearly. Which I guess is two benefits. Which is great, because if your tallying things up the other side may look heavily weighted (hair greying, hair loss, wrinkles, body decay, illness, more frequent death of loved ones, I better stop here before shit gets out of hand). On the plus side the benefits are also more substantial than the often (but not entirely) superficial elements on the list of disadvantages to aging.

Last night I went to a friend's house for fondue. She invited me and because I didn't know most of the people going and because it was a school night and I thought I should be home to perform my maternal duties I very nearly didn't go. But then I thought, 'Treat yo'self!' I used to hate going places where I didn't know anyone but now I just don't care about it so much. It is basically just habit that makes me think I want to avoid situations like that, not my actual feelings. And boy howdy that is liberating. I mean, imagine missing out on fondue because you were nervous around strangers! And in case you haven't had it for a while, let me remind you that fondue is delicious!

I guess what I'm learning is that by being open to listening to yourself and doing the things you want you to do you'll get to eat a lot of delicious food. So why the hell wouldn't you!?

A final word on mothers' day.

I noticed all that social media outpouring of emotion on Mothers' day too, and I don't care for it. Stop banging on about how much you love your mother, we're not the ones you have to convince. Plus, much like our justice system's presumption of innocence until proven guilty, I operate under the presumption of mother love unless you tell me otherwise (which is totally fine, some Mothers are duds and one doesn't have to love a dud), so going on about it on mothers' day only makes you look guilty. 

Obviously I seem like a total hypocrite because I devote a lot of MSC column space to going on about my mum, and I suppose I have a complicated relationship with her. Remember that time she told me that I didn't have to pay her for looking after KB once a week, I just had to wash my hair more often? That's what I mean. But it's a complicated relationship for all seasons, not just May. 

Here's a recent text from my mum that I enjoyed. 

 

Happy Mother's Day

You know what this age of social media brings? It's real outpourings of emotion. Someone dies, it's "Vale this guy!" "Vale that guy!" Mother's Day come around it's all, "Happy Mother's Day to my greatest inspiration!" Well I love my mum and everything but I'm sure as hell not about to post anything like that anywhere. And if I'm honest, yesterday I really thought about myself. Not how hard it is to be a mother and isn't it great that there's this one day to celebrate it, but more about how my kids are so adorable and being their mother is so nice. I guess more than thinking about me I was really thinking about them. They're so cute. Which I guess, despite what I said in Thursday's post, is why people keep having babies.

But maybe I should think more about my mum. I guess I'm doing this mother's day thing wrong. I mean she came out to Australia as a teenager, spoke basically no English, had to go to high school, went to uni, became a doctor. Bought nicer houses than I'll ever live in again, raised three reasonably well functioning, nice children, has been married to one guy for nearly 50 years, she's done alright.

As for me, I guess I have too. As I said to Russeth yesterday morning, not much special happened for me to celebrate MD morning. LB went out to get me a coffee, but he does that pretty regularly. And really, isn't that better? To have a fella who goes out in the morning especially to buy you  coffee. That is pretty special, isn't it!? Better than just getting that one day a year.

Look, I don't know what the meaning of mother's day is, I just know I want a coffee.

Close call

So I decided to get an afternooner to see me through the rest of the working week. This guy ordered a sweet treat to go with his, only they gave him a yoyo instead of the caramel slice he asked for. 

I panicked a little, watching this total disaster unfold while he was gazing off into the middle distance totally oblivious to what was going down. What should I do? Intervene on his behalf? 

Luckily he sat down outside to eat it, discovered the mistake and came back. 

Can you imagine if he'd gotten all the way back to his office before discovering? What a nightmare.

Here he is enjoying his caramel slice. 

That's my kind of happy ending.

 

Another day, another fuck up

Last night I wrote a very long and confessional blog post about how having three children is quite hard. About how I once heard a woman tell another woman that the transition from one child to two is so much harder than the transition from two to three and how I expected that to be the case. And it is the case. The transition from two to three is much easier. It's life that's much harder.

Because I was writing it on my phone I wrote it as an email to myself so I could copy and paste it on the computer into Blogger. But that email is not in my inbox or my outbox or my sent box or my drafts. It has just disappeared. The post was all about how hard it is to do anything with your brain when you have three small children, including a baby, except keep you and them functioning in a way you feel moderately happy with. How it's difficult to work effectively or write a reasonable blog post or organise extracurricular activities. So it's a pretty fucking cruel twist of fate that this blog post I put so much energy into has disappeared. Cruel twist of fate or a result of my insufficient mind.

Touching the void

Wednesdays are my days at home with KB. We get up and have a play, then go to the market for coffe, or Nino as KB likes to call it (an abbreviation of babycino). We usually go for a play in the park before heading home for a middle of the day nap. Nap time is a brilliant thing. You can lie around AND get things done if you're lucky. Most importantly, you get to regroup. This is pretty essential if you're going to make it through the afternoon play session, followed by the dinner/bath/storytime/bedtime marathon. 

I know older kids don't have naptime, and I know their parents just have to manage. I admire those people every day. But today, I AM that person. KB is refusing to nap. That means no regrouping for me. No cup of tea. No putting the washing out in a leisurely fashion. No food prep. Etc. etc. blah blah blah. I thought I was months away from this kind of thing. 

I'm not handling it well. I'm engaging in a little multimedia parenting while I figure out what to do next. 

 

Is this a fish?

Monyay!

I've decided to be very positive about the week ahead, which is why I've labelled this post Monyay!

That term is no more or less ridiculous than Friyay, but certainly more unexpected, and therefore annoys me less. 

I had a fun weekend that involved eating  Carmella Soprano inspired baked ziti for dinner on Friday, then a night at AB's beach house sans children on Saturday. It was pretty wonderful. We basically just ate and drank and sat in front of the open fire. Some of my favourite quotes include:

"If she is so wealthy, then she can pay for her own hysterectomy" and

"Yeah, well she drives a Kia Carnevale".

It rained a lot and sure enough, a rainbow emerged.

I sensed a golden opportunity. 

 

It's only moderately amusing now, but it brought the house down on Saturday.

Have a good Monyay!  

Cheese dreams

Last night K and I went out for pizza. We had one with cheese (allegedly - Mate, do you think there was cheese on it? I feel like there wasn't. Not that I care) and the other one had no cheese.

So look, I probably didn't have cheese dreams. But I did have a dream that Ewan McGregor came over for dinner. He was just as handsome in dream reality as he is in the movies.

(PS. When I was searching online for this picture I learned that a hoax report of Ewan's death recently spread like wildfire. Thank Christ I missed that. I was distraught enough at the speculation of Prince Phillip's death yesterday. Hoaxers gonna give sister a heart attack!)

Parenting reflections

When this child figures out that these things can move, I'm effed. 

 

The snot cycle begins

Last year Newbie started childcare and the winter was awash with snot and tears and pain and I'd hoped that his immunity would be boosted and this winter would a drier, healthier season.

Early signs suggest I was dreaming. The months that lie ahead of me promise constant nose wiping, childcare days missed, money wasted, work left undone, snot. I'm enjoying wearing jumpers but I am not looking forward to the snot.

Here come the spiderbabies

So one of Orbie's spiderbabies was hanging out on the outside of my front door this morning. I saw it silhouetted against the glass as I put my key in to unlock the door.  I guess I knew this day would come. 

 

I handled it with the grace you would expect of a person with an irrational fear at 5:50am. I went out the back door instead. 

Let the robots do the work

When I first heard about those little robot vacuum cleaners that move around your house on their own vacuuming I have to say, I pretty much thought they were bullshit. "Just vacuum!" I thought. "How good a suction can they really have?" I thought. Oh boy. Those are the thoughts I had before I tried one in my own house. I'd seen one in action and it did seem pretty effective but it wasn't until I got one home for a few days on loan that my mind was opened to the miraculous possibilities of life with Roomba. After having one at home for a few days all I could think about was getting one permanently. But the cheapest model Roomba is nearly $600 and we are always talking about buying a Dyson, which  is bigger and seems like a more sensible purchase and costs just a little more than that and AS IF I'M SPENDING 600 DOLLARS ON A VACUUM ROBOT! But oh my god guys, the magic of it. The magic. You tidy up and then instead of vacuuming you just put on Roomba and go tidy in another room. Do you know how good that feels? On the rare occasions I clean the bedrooms it is even rarer that I get to actually vacuum because by the time the cleaning is done I always ALWAYS have to go pick up Baby from school. But with Roomba you just PUT IT ON THEN LEAVE THE HOUSE! Some people, when I rave about Roomba, say "Yeah, but you still have to pick stuff up before you put it on." Yes, but then YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THE VACUUMING! What is wrong with people?!?!

Thank God LB is worse than me with money. A few weeks ago when I was sick in bed and asked him to take the children away he went to Myer where they were having a sale and bought a Roomba. And my life is exactly as good as I knew it would be. Which is to say I still have almost the same amount of boring woes and chores but the house is so much cleaner, the carpet particularly.

Now I'm as nervous about the singularity as the next guy, but sheesh, if it means robot cleaners I guess my fears are in conflict with my desire to do things other than clean and now I'm not exactly how I feel about anything. Exact I'm sure I love Roomba with all my heart.