It’s ok, because it’s “art”
I really appreciate how she drew the glass full. And appreciate she drew this at home, not at school.
All posts tagged: #wine
Running with a side of Womanly Shame
A desperate search for a valid reason to have a child-free weekend, combined with some sort of downhill-slide-to-forty crisis saw me signing up for an out of town marathon. My lofty goals were downgraded to a half marathon after I hurt my leg, although I didn’t mind much as it gave me great pleasure to say I had a “sport related injury” as if I was someone who sports often enough to sustain a sporty injury. With my parents looking after the girls, my husband and I set off on what I’d started imagining as a weekend of drinking and eating with a 21km jog slotted in. I’d usually rather give birth again than endure a five hour car journey through winding scenery, but without kids it was pure JOY. We had uninterrupted conversations the whole way. No one whined. No one threw up. No Wiggles music was played. No one demanded snacks. Actually that last one isn’t true – I demanded we stop and get a Snickers bar, just so I could eat chocolate …
Tats and red faces
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”).
Poor planning indeed
I’ve run completely out of wine due to poor planning. Everyone is Very Concerned.
Stuff grandparents say
The ratio of grandparents to children is now a healthy 3:2 They all keep saying things like “send them to our room if they wake up early!” “We can look after them while you guys go and do stuff” and “more wine?” (Actually that last one may have been me talking to myself, but yes please)
All together now
It’s first place or nothing
So while I was stoked to still be standing upright, Amy cried actual tears over me not winning the Auckland half marathon on Sunday. The fact that I was never, ever going to come even remotely close to winning, and my (fleeting) joy at improving on last year’s time meant nothing to her. I gave her my participant’s medal as a jollying-up tactic, but she held it sadly and asked, “well who DID win?” I invented a quick story about a runner named Jonathan winning, who’d run lots of races (because I DON’T KNOW). She thought about it for a while, then morosely looked out the window and muttered, “well, I hope Jonathan got an actual trophy, and not just the same medal that you and all the other people who didn’t win got given”. Gee thanks, “Jonathan”, and the thousands of other runners who drank less wine, trained harder and ran faster…thus causing me to bring non-winning shame upon my family.
How babies are really made
“Mummy, what does the dad put in the mum’s tummy to make a baby again? Speem? Spime? Wine?” Wine. Definitely wine.
In training
This morning she grabbed a bottle of wine in the supermarket and yelled “Cuggle wine! Kisses wine!”. This afternoon she’s standing in a playground wearing a food-stained top and carrying an oversized bag full of crap. She’s gonna make a great mother one day.
McPikelets 