I grew up with an endless array of people, mostly women visiting my mum for that special consultation, wanting answers to a particular question. There was one that above all that still stands out today.
A woman with handkerchief in hand wanting to know if her almost 25 year marriage was at an end. Was her husband having an affair?. Now that both children had left home, and wishing to spend more time together, he started to work endless hours well into most nights, including weekends. For months now she had found herself alone and her mind was ticking overtime.
I remember my mother holding her hand, overriding the woman's fears, she told the woman that she needed to get her passport very quick, don't delay as she will soon receive a phone from her daughter who was now living in England. An emergency will happen and she will soon need to go to her daughters aid, she would have to be ready at a moments notice. Now was not the time to worry about her husbands absence from home. The woman left soon after. Her mind now preoccupied on the upcoming emergency, what ever it was.
Months later, I found myself thinking about the woman, asking mum if she had heard from her, my mum said with a wink "We will soon know". That afternoon, the door bell rang. I opened the door to the well tanned woman of question, bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates in hand.
She heeded my mothers warnings and applied for her passport the next day, that night her husband had asked her to do the same thing "Maybe you should go and stay with Elli in England for a while, apply for your passport and go". She felt that her husband was trying to get rid of her, and even her son had suggested the same a couple of weeks prior. While waiting for the passport to arrive, and worried about her daughter she had gone to a few travel agents to make travel plans. Her husband kept holding out when she wanted to book a flight, saying that money was tight at the moment. Suspicion set in, with the amount of work he was doing, were was all the money?. One minute he was telling her to go and next minute there wasn't enough money for her to go?. Maybe my mother was right, she thought, she'd have to wait till the dreaded phone call came.
It came 11pm at night. Her daughter frantic, crying through the phone "I need both you and Dad to come!" she wouldn't say anymore. Her husband told her to just pack a few things while he would get on the phone and organise the earliest possible flight. With a 8am flight the earliest, the woman couldn't sleep. Phone calls to her daughter where left unanswered. Their son drove them to the airport, armed with his own suitcase, he was going too; if there was something wrong with his sister, he needed to be there.
Her husband told her that they would fly to Fiji and catch an interconnecting flight to England, it was the only offer at such short notice. In-between her husband and son, she cried all the way to Fiji. She had been terrified of flying, but that was held intact with the fear for her daughter more demanding. At the airport, luggage retrieved to catch another flight, her husband asked her walk outside for some fresh air. By this time she was ready to kill him, he seemed so passe about it all.
It was midday, it was hot, her eye's puffy, head pounding, she followed both the men in her life with the aim to murder the older one, and why were they taking the luggage with them?.
Outside the porter took their luggage and stowed them into a small bus, around from the front of the bus stepped their daughter. A smile erupted and she said "Surprise!!, happy 25th anniversary mum and dad!".
Her husband smiled, "I was never proud that I could only afford to give you a 2 day honeymoon in a cheap hotel, my love. We are spending a week in a resort all of us together, then a 10 day island cruise for just you and me, then we are off to England for 3 weeks to be with Elli. That's why I spent months working another job to give this to you".
She confessed to him that she thought he was having an affair, now why would he go out for hamburger when he had the best steak at home was his reply.
We all laughed through the story she told that afternoon. Nina asked mum if she knew all along "Yes but I wasn't going to spoil your husband's surprise, you and your husband will be together to a ripe old age".
Nina and Bob have just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary and welcomed their first great grandchild.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
People that don't look they way they should
Saturday mornings is swimming lessons with little Miss Mischief. Indoor heated pool that's the size of our garage, sitting off to the side on hard metal benches, you cant avoid getting wet too.
While in the last throws of my Fine Arts degree 10 years ago, a few fellow art friends and I started a co-op gallery. The aim was to help all emerging artists, artists such as ourselves, step up to exposure, recognition and a chance. Smooth out the injustices of the art world, by not being a part of it. We had ideals, politics and a driven desire to make it a success. Our group of 10 quickly whittled down to 6, when the question of money arose. 6 people still operate the gallery today. Marion's role was to find new and exciting artists, and my role was to draw out of them as much information as possible to market the exhibition. Most of the time it is easier to draw blood out of a stone. With artists it's never an easy process, call it artistic demeanour.
At one Camden art show, she discovered the quirky lively paintings of one Alex McBoko.
She rang me a few weeks later to say she had spoken to him and was organising for him to contact me to arrange an appointment
"He's lovely, but really hard to understand on the phone due to his very thick Scottish accent. He moved here just 2 years ago from Scotland. You should meet him rather than do a phone interview".
Sure enough when I did speak to him on the phone, I could barely understand him. We agreed to meet at a cafe the following Tuesday. He asked me if I was Irish, as I have an Irish name. Explaining to him that my mother was dutch and my dad was French Mauritian, and the name was a pulled out of a hat. "So your a darky are you?', technically yes, but I take after my mother.
We agreed to meet outside the cafe. I turned up a minute early waiting at the front of the cafe, and around a minute later an Asian man wearing a suit, carrying a brief case showed up and stood on the opposite side of the entrance. We exchanged glances amongst a lot of other people milling about. 10 minutes later I went to call him to see how far away he was, when my mobile rang and it was Alex "I'm waiting at the cafe, how far away are you?" he asks. I look through the front window to see if I can see anyone sitting by themselves inside. "Oh I am outside waiting for you Alex" I reply. Chuckling a reply, "I am too!". Turning around to search the outdoor crowd I can only see the Asian man talking on his mobile.
"I can't see you Alex, where are you?". I am still searching the crowd of faces.
"Aye I think I can see you, your wearing red pants that have frangipani's and a green top, I'm right next to you". In his very thick Scottish accent, that seems to be very close.
Swinging around, the Asian man in the business suit is now standing right next to me, smiling, holding up his phone.
"You're a bit peculiar! with your blond hair, brown eyes and lily white skin" He looks me up and down with a mocking smile.
We find a spot inside and the waitress walks over to get our order, Alex orders for the both of us and the waitress flinches with a double take at the sound of his voice, with a quick disbelieving shake of her head she's off.
He tells me that he was in Cabramatta the other day seeing a client, and he was spoken to in Vietnamese, he cheekily spoke back in Gaelic.
By the way he mentions he takes after his mother too. I eventually find out that Alex's Scottish dad was on holiday in Thailand, where he fell in love and married Alex's mum. Ethan came first, 2 years after that Alex was born. Unfortunately Alex's mum died shortly after his birth and their forlorn dad took both the boys back home to Scotland to be raised with wonderful grandparents and a plethora of aunts, uncles and cousins.
I guess we have a friendship on the commonality that we don't look like what we are supposed to look like. I don't look part negro at all, and Alex doesn't look Scottish.
Alex has become quite a successful artist and I, well, you could say I am a practising artist in hiatus.
I picked up our local newspaper and started to read an article about an adopted Japanese woman, who was rather insulted by the fact she is constantly approached by other fellow Japanese people and they speak Japanese to her, assuming after all she is Japanese. She has to inform them that she speaks only English. I couldn't read any further as by this stage the newspaper was saturated. Wiping the drips from my face I was instantly reminded of the first time I met my best friend Alex, I chuckled out aloud. The couple that sat next to me moved suspiciously further down the bench.
While in the last throws of my Fine Arts degree 10 years ago, a few fellow art friends and I started a co-op gallery. The aim was to help all emerging artists, artists such as ourselves, step up to exposure, recognition and a chance. Smooth out the injustices of the art world, by not being a part of it. We had ideals, politics and a driven desire to make it a success. Our group of 10 quickly whittled down to 6, when the question of money arose. 6 people still operate the gallery today. Marion's role was to find new and exciting artists, and my role was to draw out of them as much information as possible to market the exhibition. Most of the time it is easier to draw blood out of a stone. With artists it's never an easy process, call it artistic demeanour.
At one Camden art show, she discovered the quirky lively paintings of one Alex McBoko.
She rang me a few weeks later to say she had spoken to him and was organising for him to contact me to arrange an appointment
"He's lovely, but really hard to understand on the phone due to his very thick Scottish accent. He moved here just 2 years ago from Scotland. You should meet him rather than do a phone interview".
Sure enough when I did speak to him on the phone, I could barely understand him. We agreed to meet at a cafe the following Tuesday. He asked me if I was Irish, as I have an Irish name. Explaining to him that my mother was dutch and my dad was French Mauritian, and the name was a pulled out of a hat. "So your a darky are you?', technically yes, but I take after my mother.
We agreed to meet outside the cafe. I turned up a minute early waiting at the front of the cafe, and around a minute later an Asian man wearing a suit, carrying a brief case showed up and stood on the opposite side of the entrance. We exchanged glances amongst a lot of other people milling about. 10 minutes later I went to call him to see how far away he was, when my mobile rang and it was Alex "I'm waiting at the cafe, how far away are you?" he asks. I look through the front window to see if I can see anyone sitting by themselves inside. "Oh I am outside waiting for you Alex" I reply. Chuckling a reply, "I am too!". Turning around to search the outdoor crowd I can only see the Asian man talking on his mobile.
"I can't see you Alex, where are you?". I am still searching the crowd of faces.
"Aye I think I can see you, your wearing red pants that have frangipani's and a green top, I'm right next to you". In his very thick Scottish accent, that seems to be very close.
Swinging around, the Asian man in the business suit is now standing right next to me, smiling, holding up his phone.
"You're a bit peculiar! with your blond hair, brown eyes and lily white skin" He looks me up and down with a mocking smile.
We find a spot inside and the waitress walks over to get our order, Alex orders for the both of us and the waitress flinches with a double take at the sound of his voice, with a quick disbelieving shake of her head she's off.
He tells me that he was in Cabramatta the other day seeing a client, and he was spoken to in Vietnamese, he cheekily spoke back in Gaelic.
By the way he mentions he takes after his mother too. I eventually find out that Alex's Scottish dad was on holiday in Thailand, where he fell in love and married Alex's mum. Ethan came first, 2 years after that Alex was born. Unfortunately Alex's mum died shortly after his birth and their forlorn dad took both the boys back home to Scotland to be raised with wonderful grandparents and a plethora of aunts, uncles and cousins.
I guess we have a friendship on the commonality that we don't look like what we are supposed to look like. I don't look part negro at all, and Alex doesn't look Scottish.
Alex has become quite a successful artist and I, well, you could say I am a practising artist in hiatus.
Friday, August 20, 2010
One leaves the nest
Last year my oldest child Ryan moved to sunny Queensland for his career. I was excited, proud and joyous for him, underneath that lurked a dark feeling of despair that I tried to shake of like a swarm of pesky bugs.
Leading up to that fateful day our house was a flurry of activity, organising furniture and his personal possessions for the big haul. I even wrote a manual for him, "Mum's guide to moving out and surviving" It covered all topics from nutrition and cooking for one to a very, very large chapter on money & budgeting. Out of all the kids, Ryan was the only one that had a very weak grasp of the essentials of being money wise. This worried me.
With last minute tips and advice in between the hugs, kisses and tears, he climbed into his car and set of down the road. I was strong, smiling with only a slight tad of a quaver of the bottom lip. Around the corner he zoomed and then he was gone.
Walking inside, number 2 son offered a heartwarming cup of coffee. I was immediately ambushed by a wall of tears and wails. Huge uncontrollable racks of sobs shook my body, all four remaining children, as if on cue jumped to surround me with a big group hug.
"It's ok Mum you still have 4 kids here" says Ritch. Stammering out each anguished word between the painful sobs, I answer with hands outstretched "But.... I.... am....use...to...5!!".
Didn't they get it, I am used to 5 children, 2 adults, a step dog and an independent cat. The house seemed to be smaller, emptier with this one person gone.
I couldn't go to work that day. I sat out on the back porch mostly with the tissue box not far from my side.
This is it, the beginning of the empty nest syndrome. This is what it feels like. I spent years hungrily waiting for them to grow up and get a life of their own. It only seems only like a couple of years ago when I has holding onto his hand, his mop top curly hair and delicious chocolate brown eyes looking up at me. That beautiful cheeky smile eternally etched into my mind. He was 2 then now he is 25. Still just as handsome, but now he has to look down as he towers over me.
14 hours later he rings
"Hey Mum" with the sound of his voice the silent tears begin to fall down my face. Little Miss Mischief runs up with the seemingly bottomless tissue box and holds it out for me.
The trip was a breeze for him, tonight he is staying with his Aunt & Uncle, they are having a special roast dinner as they haven't seen him in a while. I can hear in the background my sister in law fussing over him. I can't help but smile, a smile with an edge of jealousy mixed in.
Each Monday evening at 7.30pm the phone rings, "Hey Mum....." Couple of nights per week we speak on facebook chat. Don't get me wrong I still shed a tear or few each time, I just don't let him know it. The tissue box seem to miraculously appear on the desk.
He got around to reading my manual, apparently while he was waiting for the Internet to be connected and there was nothing on TV to watch. Laughing he mentioned "You should write Mum, you're very funny, laughed my arse off in a few places. That part about googling green vegetables If I couldn't remember what they looked like, that had me rolling on the ground".
This confused me as I didn't write anything deliberately funny.
Christmas time he flew home. I wasn't allowed to go with Drue to pick him up at the airport, due to the embarrassment factor.
In the first few months, Ryan had saved his money, paid his bills and it was the first Christmas he bought presents for everyone, without mum to the rescue. Great gifts too, I was impressed
I might have finally let him go, have the faith in him to live his life well, but he will always be that golden curly haired, olive skinned, dreamy eyed, cheeky smiled little boy to me.
Leading up to that fateful day our house was a flurry of activity, organising furniture and his personal possessions for the big haul. I even wrote a manual for him, "Mum's guide to moving out and surviving" It covered all topics from nutrition and cooking for one to a very, very large chapter on money & budgeting. Out of all the kids, Ryan was the only one that had a very weak grasp of the essentials of being money wise. This worried me.
With last minute tips and advice in between the hugs, kisses and tears, he climbed into his car and set of down the road. I was strong, smiling with only a slight tad of a quaver of the bottom lip. Around the corner he zoomed and then he was gone.
Walking inside, number 2 son offered a heartwarming cup of coffee. I was immediately ambushed by a wall of tears and wails. Huge uncontrollable racks of sobs shook my body, all four remaining children, as if on cue jumped to surround me with a big group hug.
"It's ok Mum you still have 4 kids here" says Ritch. Stammering out each anguished word between the painful sobs, I answer with hands outstretched "But.... I.... am....use...to...5!!".
Didn't they get it, I am used to 5 children, 2 adults, a step dog and an independent cat. The house seemed to be smaller, emptier with this one person gone.
I couldn't go to work that day. I sat out on the back porch mostly with the tissue box not far from my side.
This is it, the beginning of the empty nest syndrome. This is what it feels like. I spent years hungrily waiting for them to grow up and get a life of their own. It only seems only like a couple of years ago when I has holding onto his hand, his mop top curly hair and delicious chocolate brown eyes looking up at me. That beautiful cheeky smile eternally etched into my mind. He was 2 then now he is 25. Still just as handsome, but now he has to look down as he towers over me.
14 hours later he rings
"Hey Mum" with the sound of his voice the silent tears begin to fall down my face. Little Miss Mischief runs up with the seemingly bottomless tissue box and holds it out for me.
The trip was a breeze for him, tonight he is staying with his Aunt & Uncle, they are having a special roast dinner as they haven't seen him in a while. I can hear in the background my sister in law fussing over him. I can't help but smile, a smile with an edge of jealousy mixed in.
Each Monday evening at 7.30pm the phone rings, "Hey Mum....." Couple of nights per week we speak on facebook chat. Don't get me wrong I still shed a tear or few each time, I just don't let him know it. The tissue box seem to miraculously appear on the desk.
He got around to reading my manual, apparently while he was waiting for the Internet to be connected and there was nothing on TV to watch. Laughing he mentioned "You should write Mum, you're very funny, laughed my arse off in a few places. That part about googling green vegetables If I couldn't remember what they looked like, that had me rolling on the ground".
This confused me as I didn't write anything deliberately funny.
Christmas time he flew home. I wasn't allowed to go with Drue to pick him up at the airport, due to the embarrassment factor.
In the first few months, Ryan had saved his money, paid his bills and it was the first Christmas he bought presents for everyone, without mum to the rescue. Great gifts too, I was impressed
I might have finally let him go, have the faith in him to live his life well, but he will always be that golden curly haired, olive skinned, dreamy eyed, cheeky smiled little boy to me.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Our first Magical Mystery tour
I read a book a very long time ago called "Mothers that run", and as per usual I can't remember the author. It was a study of mothers that had abandoned their families, left, gone awol etc. Unthinkable as it might be to do such a thing, but it happens, and it happens a lot.
I read the book purely out of curiosity, and cause I almost did the same thing a couple of years prior when I only had 3 children. The pressure was too much, when for some absurd reason I thought the kids would be better off without me. I jumped into my freedom nomad van and drove to the end of our street, a grand distance of 2 houses away. Which way should I turn, left or right? when the thought come over me, will the kids be alright?, will they be loved the way I love them?, will someone sacrifice everything for them the way I do? What will they tell them when the kids ask "where is mum?". That last one was enough for me to turn the van around. Thankfully the van had a very small turning circle and I don't have to do an eight point turn to turn the van around like I have to do with my current car. I was gone a whole 3.25 minutes and no one till now was any wiser to my being awol.
2 days later I left again, this time with the kids in tow. We were going on a magical mystery tour. Packing their bags with daywear, sleepwear, swimwear, floaties, towels and pillows we set off to go somewhere.
Oldest boy Ryan sat in the front seat with a series of road maps and we set off south towards the southern highlands. Originally it was to be just a picnic to the Blue Mountains for the day, but the then husband was a bit weary as he worked all week, the poor dear opted out to catch up on some sleep. We four returned 4 days later, with smiles bigger than Mt Everest. The kids were 9, 7 and 5 at the time and they still remember that experience with chuckles.
Especially when we randomly climbed a fence into a paddock somewhere near Nowra to take a closer look at the most majestically impressive Moreton Bay Fig tree imaginable. We were doing a rain dance around the base when we realised that we didn't want rain while we were away, so we went in reverse to undo the rain dance. Number 2 son Drue, spotted a bull in the far left corner of the paddock who was having a serious stare at some absurd human antics. We screamed comically all the way down the hill, up the gully and back over the fence. We collapsed in hysterical laughter on the side of the road as the bull was left behind still staring at us while chomping on some fodder.
The first night we camped in the car park at a beach. We had swum till it was too dark, and skipped up the road to the fish and chip shop. Not just normal skipping, it had to be the most animated, weirdest skip that could be contrived, the contest was on. It took me a few attempts to get the rhythm of skipping, as one becomes an adult it's a skill that one loses, which is so sad. I huffed and puffed and laughed trying to order while the kids giggled. By the time I eventually managed to articulate the order even the cook was laughing.
We made a beach camp fire, roasting or burning marshmallows stabbed on the end of twigs. Summertime is great for these sort of adventures. The Nissan Nomad 8 seater van was the best friend the family could have, with all the seats laid down flat it was very comfortable to sleep all 4 of us in, though Ryan did snore.
As the sun rose the next morning, Drue and I went swimming while the 2 sleeping beauties slumbered on. Ravishingly hungry we ventured to McDonalds to have our very first McDonalds breakfast ever. Hmm, yum, I didn't know the hotcakes they served are that good.
We drove around to visit as many different beaches and places as possible in the next 3 days, but did spend the next 2 nights in a motel to sleep.
Time came to go home, we travelled back through the southern highlands via a different route. As I pulled up in our driveway it had been dark for some time. My future ex husband came out and said "That was a very long picnic". Ryan had woken and said "And it was the best ever Dad!".
That was our very first magical mystery tour and over the years we have gone and discovered some amazing places on and off the beaten track. We never booked any accommodation, the van proved as always to be a reliable host when needed. We've stayed in some eclectic places, some remembered with fondness and some not to be remembered.
The whole idea was to jump in the van and just go in any direction that took our fancy, throw away the boundaries, the schedules, the fear and enjoy some amazing fun bonding with each other.
Every time I left, the kids came too.
Enjoy!
I read the book purely out of curiosity, and cause I almost did the same thing a couple of years prior when I only had 3 children. The pressure was too much, when for some absurd reason I thought the kids would be better off without me. I jumped into my freedom nomad van and drove to the end of our street, a grand distance of 2 houses away. Which way should I turn, left or right? when the thought come over me, will the kids be alright?, will they be loved the way I love them?, will someone sacrifice everything for them the way I do? What will they tell them when the kids ask "where is mum?". That last one was enough for me to turn the van around. Thankfully the van had a very small turning circle and I don't have to do an eight point turn to turn the van around like I have to do with my current car. I was gone a whole 3.25 minutes and no one till now was any wiser to my being awol.
2 days later I left again, this time with the kids in tow. We were going on a magical mystery tour. Packing their bags with daywear, sleepwear, swimwear, floaties, towels and pillows we set off to go somewhere.
Oldest boy Ryan sat in the front seat with a series of road maps and we set off south towards the southern highlands. Originally it was to be just a picnic to the Blue Mountains for the day, but the then husband was a bit weary as he worked all week, the poor dear opted out to catch up on some sleep. We four returned 4 days later, with smiles bigger than Mt Everest. The kids were 9, 7 and 5 at the time and they still remember that experience with chuckles.
Especially when we randomly climbed a fence into a paddock somewhere near Nowra to take a closer look at the most majestically impressive Moreton Bay Fig tree imaginable. We were doing a rain dance around the base when we realised that we didn't want rain while we were away, so we went in reverse to undo the rain dance. Number 2 son Drue, spotted a bull in the far left corner of the paddock who was having a serious stare at some absurd human antics. We screamed comically all the way down the hill, up the gully and back over the fence. We collapsed in hysterical laughter on the side of the road as the bull was left behind still staring at us while chomping on some fodder.
The first night we camped in the car park at a beach. We had swum till it was too dark, and skipped up the road to the fish and chip shop. Not just normal skipping, it had to be the most animated, weirdest skip that could be contrived, the contest was on. It took me a few attempts to get the rhythm of skipping, as one becomes an adult it's a skill that one loses, which is so sad. I huffed and puffed and laughed trying to order while the kids giggled. By the time I eventually managed to articulate the order even the cook was laughing.
We made a beach camp fire, roasting or burning marshmallows stabbed on the end of twigs. Summertime is great for these sort of adventures. The Nissan Nomad 8 seater van was the best friend the family could have, with all the seats laid down flat it was very comfortable to sleep all 4 of us in, though Ryan did snore.
As the sun rose the next morning, Drue and I went swimming while the 2 sleeping beauties slumbered on. Ravishingly hungry we ventured to McDonalds to have our very first McDonalds breakfast ever. Hmm, yum, I didn't know the hotcakes they served are that good.
We drove around to visit as many different beaches and places as possible in the next 3 days, but did spend the next 2 nights in a motel to sleep.
Time came to go home, we travelled back through the southern highlands via a different route. As I pulled up in our driveway it had been dark for some time. My future ex husband came out and said "That was a very long picnic". Ryan had woken and said "And it was the best ever Dad!".
That was our very first magical mystery tour and over the years we have gone and discovered some amazing places on and off the beaten track. We never booked any accommodation, the van proved as always to be a reliable host when needed. We've stayed in some eclectic places, some remembered with fondness and some not to be remembered.
The whole idea was to jump in the van and just go in any direction that took our fancy, throw away the boundaries, the schedules, the fear and enjoy some amazing fun bonding with each other.
Every time I left, the kids came too.
Enjoy!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Packing my luggage bag little Miss Mischief style
I'm leaving to go to Perth tomorrow for the PBC expo.
Like any regular normal human being, I like to leave things to the very last minute. The mummy rote kicked in this morning and I decided to get organised!. I am very big on minimal. Staying just 4 days this time, all I needed was work clothes, underwear, toiletries and I guess the dusty makeup bag should go in as well. All that took up less than half of the suitcase; more room to bring back goodies for the tribe. Little Miss Mischief decided that just won't do at all. Tapping her foot on the ground and finger to her mouth in unison, I could hear her mind churning over in super hyperdrive. Within minutes she had added to my meagre stack
3 Barbie movies (because they are really good to watch she says)
2 Candles complete with stands - just in case there's no light
5 pairs of shoes - 2 pairs I forgot that I had
2 teddy bears - if I get scared
1 framed picture of her - so if I miss her, she'll be close ( hey honey I have 2 in my purse and 6 on my Iphone)
4 books
1 bowl
and my "Mummy Moment" cup ( that was always on the list)
The lightbulb sprang up above her head when she realised Mum has to eat!
in zip lock bags for each she packed
4 cruskits - because I am staying 4 days
small handful of cashews ( she even remembered I preferred unsalted)
a very full bag of rolled oats for breakfast, I think thats what the bowl is for.
Cornflakes
A mixture of Sultanas and dates
The bag was bulging so she sat on it to close up the zipper. I had a vision of the rolled oats bursting all through my bag.
Standing back, hands on hips she was proud of her achievement. Mum will definitely not go without out when she remembered just one more thing; I might get bored. She scampered of to her bedroom to get what I knew would be the barrel of textas and colouring books, I was left holding the one pair of shoes that I did want to take, holding back the laughter.
With relief the barrel would not fit till she emptied the contents into all crevices. All 60 textas found a place somewhere in my bag, and the colouring books flattened on top. When all was done, finished and the suitcase by some miracle was zipped up, she took both my hands into hers, looked lovingly into my eyes and said with a grown up demeanor "You'll be ok, no need to get scared or worried, because I love you mummy".
I guess I better wait till she's in bed asleep tonight to discreetly repack my bag and secret the stash in the wardrobe. I might not take all the things she packed for me, but the memory of her doing so, will come with me for sure.
I love you too baby.
Like any regular normal human being, I like to leave things to the very last minute. The mummy rote kicked in this morning and I decided to get organised!. I am very big on minimal. Staying just 4 days this time, all I needed was work clothes, underwear, toiletries and I guess the dusty makeup bag should go in as well. All that took up less than half of the suitcase; more room to bring back goodies for the tribe. Little Miss Mischief decided that just won't do at all. Tapping her foot on the ground and finger to her mouth in unison, I could hear her mind churning over in super hyperdrive. Within minutes she had added to my meagre stack
3 Barbie movies (because they are really good to watch she says)
2 Candles complete with stands - just in case there's no light
5 pairs of shoes - 2 pairs I forgot that I had
2 teddy bears - if I get scared
1 framed picture of her - so if I miss her, she'll be close ( hey honey I have 2 in my purse and 6 on my Iphone)
4 books
1 bowl
and my "Mummy Moment" cup ( that was always on the list)
The lightbulb sprang up above her head when she realised Mum has to eat!
in zip lock bags for each she packed
4 cruskits - because I am staying 4 days
small handful of cashews ( she even remembered I preferred unsalted)
a very full bag of rolled oats for breakfast, I think thats what the bowl is for.
Cornflakes
A mixture of Sultanas and dates
The bag was bulging so she sat on it to close up the zipper. I had a vision of the rolled oats bursting all through my bag.
Standing back, hands on hips she was proud of her achievement. Mum will definitely not go without out when she remembered just one more thing; I might get bored. She scampered of to her bedroom to get what I knew would be the barrel of textas and colouring books, I was left holding the one pair of shoes that I did want to take, holding back the laughter.
With relief the barrel would not fit till she emptied the contents into all crevices. All 60 textas found a place somewhere in my bag, and the colouring books flattened on top. When all was done, finished and the suitcase by some miracle was zipped up, she took both my hands into hers, looked lovingly into my eyes and said with a grown up demeanor "You'll be ok, no need to get scared or worried, because I love you mummy".
I guess I better wait till she's in bed asleep tonight to discreetly repack my bag and secret the stash in the wardrobe. I might not take all the things she packed for me, but the memory of her doing so, will come with me for sure.
I love you too baby.
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