Meanwhile, in the backseat, a silent protest was underway against the parental singalong to Elton John in the front seat. Then we sang along to Roxy Music and the protest numbers doubled.
It’s party central here! We’ve been lining up the shot glasses since before the break of dawn…to get the dregs from the medicine bottles the syringe can’t reach. And yes, that is a syringe floating in one of the bottles. I accidentally dropped it in mid-draw-up and can’t get it out, so I’ve decided to run it as an art installation.
Yesterday we were standing in the supermarket checkout line behind a beautiful woman with a moko (for my non-NZ friends, a moko is a traditional Maori facial tattoo). The questions came at me thick, fast and loud from both little girls about “the lady with drawings on her face”. I explained what a moko is and then apologized to the lady in case my inquisitive children had caused offense. She assured me no offense was taken. Then I blushed a deeper red than the bottle of Pinot nestled in my shopping basket as Amy loudly announced, “MY MUM HAS A TATTOO ON HER BUM! Would you like to see it? Mum, show the lady your bum!” When I got that tattoo at 20, something told me I’d probably regret it one day (by “something” I mean “my dad”).
A four year old playing an untuned guitar with a cheese slice in the style of a violinist sounds exactly as bad as you’d imagine. #PointsForEnthusiasm
There’s a saying: “it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey”. I’m fairly confident that whoever said it had never been on a car trip with small children. I tend to try and blur the memories of long drives because it puts me off going anywhere, ever, but generally there’s a lot of bribery, silly games, pulling over, body contortions that a gymnast would be proud of to reach dropped toys, endless snacks, a decent amount of whinging, and the occasional puke into a hastily proffered container. But even after the most fraught car trips, there’s a lovely moment when I realise we got there safely, and can relish the thought of happy times just waiting to happen. Sometimes that lovely moment doesn’t hit until well after the house has been frantically cleared of mouse poo and the unpacked car has been pulled apart to find missing Snuggly Bunny, but it does hit eventually. Going away even with just our little family isn’t the casual after-thought it used to be before we had children…it’s …
When you’re ready to hit the club but Bae isn’t feeling it
There’s a special little dance I reserve for evenings when I realise The Blacklist is on and there’s cold wine in the fridge (accompanied by a tiny squeal if there’s also chocolate). This morning I busted out that dance by the grey light of dawn when the TV line up revealed cartoons that BOTH girls like, all they requested for a snack was a banana, and no one squawked “stay with me Mama!” when I tabled the proposal that I go back to bed for a while.
Uptown Bounce Lady: “Would you like to buy an extra pair of trampolining socks for $2 in case you want to jump with your daughter?” Me: “Ohhhh…I thought it was just for kids. We’ve never been before. I’ll probably sit and watch her”. One minute later…. Me: *frantically searching through wallet for $2 whilst simultaneously doing preemptive kegels and evaluating elasticity of bra* “Hell YEAH I want a pair of trampolining socks so I can jump!”
Lovingly making a selection of hors d’oeuvres that strike a gentle balance between tasty and nutritious. I will share these pretty plates of deliciousness with girlfriends at a friend’s house tonight while we gorge on reality TV. In my absence, my family will dine on a hastily-bought frozen lasagna. #Priorities
I’m utterly thrilled that HaHas for Hoohas has run my blog about Four Year Old World! Thank you, HaHas For HooHas, I loves ya.