A Mid Week Moment of Joy... and then business as usual

I sincerely hope this Wednesday night pans out better than the last.

This time a week ago I was heading into a sudden and spontaneous night of blissful alone time, a rare occurrence these days.

My husband had to go to a work function and the girls were asleep by 8pm. I was about to turn on my computer to do some work but as it had been a busy week of deadlines and auditions, I thought better of it and poured a glass of wine instead. And cooked a delicious pasta. And turned on the TV to find Offspring was just about to start. For approximately 70 minutes, I was so happy. For a moment everything in the world was right where it should be and life was just about perfect.

Usually the minute you even think such thoughts, you invite some sort of disaster but I this time, I really thought I’d got away with it.

Until I heard a noise. Maybe it was the neighbours. Or simply instinct telling me to get off the couch and check the girls.

I looked in on them. All fine. Nothing to fear. I turned to leave when I caught a faint whiff of vomit and my heart sank. I checked the 6-year-old. All good. Then I checked the 2-year-old and found the source. She was a little damp with what I thought was probably just a ‘burp up’ of her bedtime milk. She was sound asleep so I thought I’d quietly change her top, maybe the pillowslip. However it appeared to be more widespread so I put her to sleep in our bed and went back to investigate.

A torch revealed that she’d projectile vomited everywhere - over the bed covers, toys, the wall – down the wall and under the bed. It was huge.

I sighed and started the cleanup process, crawling underneath the bed on my tummy, cleaning vomit off the wall and floor and wondering where my night just went. Then she promptly vomited in our bed as well.

I moved her into the lounge room and texted my husband who was luckily nearby. Finally when nothing was left in her stomach, she fell asleep and sometime around 2am, after three loads of washing, I did too.

Having never really vomited before, the poor thing was so distressed. I can’t think how she felt during that first enormous one, especially when she probably called out to mum who was too busy indulging in wine and Offspring. Since no one came, she had little choice but to go back to sleep in her own vomit.

Anyway the next day should have been a daycare day involving a sneaky trip to the Writers’ Festival however I was home with my 2-year-old, doing about 17 million loads of washing.

So now exactly a week later, my husband happens to be going out again. I’ll get the girls to bed early and this time I’ll turn on my computer and do some work. I might have a little glass of wine; I might even watch a little bit of Offspring. But this time if I pretend it’s normal everyday behaviour and not get too over-excited, just maybe, I will get away with it.

I Was Funny Once!!!

The other day I, casually and quite confidently, asked my six-year-old if she thought I was funny.

‘No Mum you’re not funny,’ she said. ‘Dad’s funny.’

When she saw my crestfallen face she added, ‘Well Dad’s the funniest and you’re the second funniest.’

Great, thanks for that.

You know there was a time I was considered quite funny, hilarious even. And definitely good company. But now I’m just Mum. Bit boring, very bossy (nothing new there), someone who always says no, someone who’s not quite as funny as Dad.

Now my husband is a fantastic dad. He works long hours and can’t wait to get home and see the girls, arriving full of energy to make the most of what remains before bedtime. While I on the other hand deal with the day-to-day squabbles, tantrums, fussy appetites and meltdowns. I provide structure, boundaries and crunchy carrot sticks. No wonder I seem a little boring.

Not that I’m complaining but I does make me want to yell, “You know, I was quite funny once!!!”

I lived in Paris in my 20s and when I first arrived, I would go to dinner parties and feel too shy to speak French. Occasionally I would think of something to add to the conversation but by the time I constructed the sentence in my head, interrupted and struggled to deliver it, the moment had passed or the joke was lost. Meanwhile everyone would wait patiently for la petite australienne, smile politely and move on.

I wanted to say, ‘I’m actually considered quite funny in Australia, you know!’ but at that stage I couldn’t say it in French. I felt people didn’t have a chance to see my true personality however after a year, I realised it still shines through regardless of language barriers. People still befriended me and I was always being asked to another dinner party.

So I’m hoping my daughters will see what my French friends eventually saw. I don’t know whether I will ever reach my husband’s standard of hilarity but that’s fine. I have to be a bit boring to keep things running and I will always be bossy, that goes without saying. But hopefully as my two-year-old stops drawing on my newly painted off-white floorboards then Fun Mum will appear more regularly.

Would You Please Move Along?

So I went to the movies yesterday with my husband. Twelve months to the day since we last went to the movies. Young children, don’t get out much. Come summer holidays, a kid-free date often presents thanks to the kindness of our parents.

We arrived at the cinema, on time, not late. One of many small cinemas in a recently developed complex, only the occasional seat was free. Back when I was a single girl and the Christmas/New Year break often found me at the movies toute seule, this was never a problem. But being on my one date with my husband probably, let’s face it for another year, I was hoping we could sit together.

We noticed two women with a spare seat either side so I shuffled down the row to ask them if they would mind moving along a seat so we could have two seats together.

‘Well it’s a bit inconvenient,’ said one of the women grumpily with a roll of her eyes.

Completely mortified, I quickly shuffled backwards out of the row.

‘Sorry, don’t worry about it, sorry for asking, sorry, sorry, sorry.’

How embarrassing! And unreasonable. I would have move along if she’d asked me. I didn’t think it was much to ask. Is it? And how inconvenient would it be to move along one seat? The cinema was full. No-one gets the luxury of a spare seat either side. But it’s been some time since I was at the movies so maybe I have no idea.

As I made my hasty retreat, a lovely couple stopped me to say that the women were actually moving to make room for us.

‘If you don’t sit there, she’ll probably complain about the fact she moved and you didn’t take the seat,’ said one half of the lovely couple, my allies and new best friends.

And she was right; the woman who didn’t want to be inconvenienced would feel inconvenienced no matter what. Unless she had no feet. That really would have been inconvenient.

But she didn’t say, ‘Sorry do you mind if I don’t move along because I have no feet.’ She was just a bit rude. Because she couldn’t be bothered to move along.

So feeling the support of surrounding cinema goers, we sheepishly took our place.

To me, it’s an easy choice to make. To move along. Be generous. Let time-poor parents share a moment together. Or force them to sit apart for absolutely no reason. Unless of course she actually had no feet and then it would be me who was being unreasonable.

Hopefully after yesterday, her New Year’s resolution is to try and be more generous to desperate strangers in need.

On the other hand, mine - judging from my lack of cinema protocol - is to toughen up, stand my ground and get to the movies again before the passing of another 12 months.