getting my shit together

I dream of this quite regularly. Getting my shit together. You?

Can't catch up, playing from behind. Pretty much for the last three years since the smallest small arrived. I was ALL OVER two. Two was a piece of cake. A beautifully iced piece of cake. My shit was TOTALLY together. Three makes you slow, late, frazzled, rushed. And yet, three is AWESOME. Loud, messy and AWESOME. I'll take slow, late, frazzled and rushed over having it all together - any day.

But I would LOVE a couple of successive days of being in control every now and then. Not dotted here and there. So I can high five myself for seven days in a row and then have a shit all over the place break.

I speak nonsense. I see this. But this is the best I've got right now.

Meanwhile I have a bunch of photos sitting in my library just waiting to be shared. Like those ones up there. Just waiting for me to get my shit together in order to share.. they're so patient. They never complain. And look how ace they are? They SHOULD be shared. They understand the vicious circle that is attaining all of one's shit - for a brief period anyway - and then losing it again. Hopping backward and forward between the MUST DO TODAY list and the TO DO WHENEVER THE HELL I GET AROUND TO IT list.

Yep. Nonsense.

Mounting lists and nonsense aside, read this. Simply because it's fucking hilarious.

one on one

Fridays are our day. We have two other mornings each week, just the two of us. But Fridays are our long days together where we have no agenda until 2.15pm kindy pick up.

I try and devote our Fridays to him. Farm, park, zoo, playground, special morning tea.. something/somewhere new. Life gets in the way sometimes and Fridays become about me and the ease of getting things done with only one child. Thankfully those Fridays are few and far between.

I love our time together; when he gets to sit in Cole's carseat and have full view out the front window, pointing loudly at every BIG TRUCK! he can see. Or demanding STOP MUMMY, STOP! as soon as he spies a red traffic light somewhere in the distance..

He chats away, constantly surprising me with his new words and longer sentences, filling in the gaps he used to leave out; somewhere along the way Mummy - truck! became Mummy! Look at the BIG red truck! I see his little mind opening and taking everything in. He still goes bananas on the playground as if it's the first he's ever seen. And I still laugh at him, every time. On the occasions we end up running errands, we head to the playground first and then he requests a chicken skewer and vanilla milkshake for morning tea. I oblige. And of course he must sit in the pram to obtain the milkshake.. it's a win/win.

Do you have regular one on one time with one or all of your children? What sort of things do you do together?

gee, you young mothers do such a great job

We made a quick trip to the shops this morning. After leaving the supermarket we stopped at a large square bench seat to unwrap lollipops following some excellent behaviour at the doctors. A bright faced, well groomed elderly gentleman was sitting next to us and I could feel him watching. He leaned over and commented on how often he is out at the shops and thinks to himself gee, you young mothers do such a great job with the kids. I smiled, genuinely, and said thankyou very much - my brain making sure my mouth closed before a less flattering comment came out dulling down my ability and conviction as a mother. In my mind I said to myself - Yes. Yes we DO do a great job. He was so kind, he went on to say you're very welcome - I know men couldn't do it, that's for sure! We laughed together before we bid him farewell and I felt him watch us leave; a knowing smile on his face.

In that moment, I thought how it would have looked like I had it all together. I was fresh from the shower that I raced into half an hour earlier when I booked the doctor's appointment 45 minutes before we had to be at a kindy interview. My make up was barely 20 minutes old and the kids hadn't had time to get dirty. Well groomed children, following along compliantly because it was still mid morning and they usually wait until at least after lunch to lose their shit.

Yeah, I totally have it together like this all the time.

ohhh shit

That was how my afternoon went.

Tonight I was meant to be at the Oh Happy Day & West Elm Design Blog Party. Apparently I am cool enough to hang out on Chapel Street by invitation only. Who knew?!

Instead of enjoying a child free evening out to restore my wavering sanity, with a dear friend and perhaps meeting some new ones, those children of mine drove me to breaking point and swiftly pushed me over the edge. Late afternoon, I screamed to the heavens when I went into the playroom to find not an inch of carpet in sight. They pulled out as many cups, bowls and tupperware as possible to play that old fave, tipping water, mixed with some milk and leftover popcorn for good measure, which of course ended up soaking through the many tea towels they were working on, spilling all over the table and floor. Right before dinner. Which they spent five minutes taste testing before leaving enough behind to rehash into a serious adult sized pasta salad and sweet potato mash for their father. Who was meant to be home late because of work commitments. Who then turned up early. Because said work commitments were cancelled because of this hideous fucking weather. It didn't occur to him to update me.

But it wasn't his fault. The fault lay entirely with me. I had unknowingly sabotaged my own sanity saving evening. One I had been so looking forward to. Which I knew was the FOURTEENTH but had written on the calendar for the SIXTEENTH. I had even reminded the husband several times that he had agreed to come home early ON THE SIXTEENTH to allow a smooth handover and getaway. Even having filled out mountains of kindy paperwork last night, signing and dating 13/10/13, it still hadn't dawned on me that today was in fact the FOURTEENTH.

My friend messaged me mid afternoon - are you still okay for tonight? Tonight. Tonight? Doesn't she mean Wednesday night? Ohhh shit. The light bulb above my head glowed blindingly bright as I realised what I had done. I had to leave my friend high and dry with no sidekick or post party coffee date. With the husband working till late - or so I was told - and no one to call for a safety net/last minute saviour before it all fell to pieces and turned to shit, there was no other option than to miss out.

And it wasn't even about the party. Sure I was looking forward to meeting some other bloggers and getting a good look of the new West Elm store, but mostly this night out was meant to be a little breather. Post school holiday breather. School holidays that were spent entirely with my children at my feet. And one in particular who chose the most ordinary of behaviours. One who chose every opportunity to yell and fight and cause havoc. It was meant to be a good excuse to dress up nice - maybe even a bit of lippy - and drive away from home not having to do the dinner/bath/teeth/bedtime routine.

To round things off nicely I cleaned my filthy bathroom, had a steaming hot shower, and ate a very large piece of cake I made late this afternoon knowing it would aid greatly in drowning my self inflicted sorrows. With a very large cup of tea.

Whoever says there is no sound evidence to prove women's memories turn to shit after having children are lying through their damn teeth. Please tell me I'm not alone and you too have cocked up a date? Time? Place? ANYTHING?!

kids were here / october 2013

'If you must look back, do so forgivingly. If you must look forward, do so prayerfully. However, the wisest thing you can do is be present in the present.. gratefully.'  ~Maya Angelou

Clever woman.

See another wonderful collection of evidence that kids were here by a truly talented bunch of photographers here.

If you would like to share your collection, you can do so here.