An Original Song

Tonight as Alpha was ‘helping’ me pack up his toys, I caught him singing this little song. Sadly, I didn’t get to record it, but I wrote down the lyrics.

I am Alpha
Everything is very easy for me
Because I have blue eyes
And I sing songs
In the dark dark night.

…it sounded a lot less melancholy when he sang it!

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Then and Now

Then…
…and now.

I woke on my own terms; refreshed, full of energy and ready to meet the day.
I wake to the dulcet sounds of Zulu indignantly demanding to be released from his cot as Alpha prises my eyelids open. I feel even more exhausted than when I went to bed.

I enjoyed my last morning in my parents’ home chatting about wedding stuff over coffee and a champagne breakfast.
My husband and I casually discuss the bowel habits of our offspring over cereal and coffee. Between us we manage to get what I assure myself is something resembling a healthy breakfast into both kids.

My hair was done in an elaborate up-do. It took 150 pins and a substantial amount of hairspray to get it all up.
I run out of time to wash my hair, so it goes up in a bun as usual. To mark the special occasion, I drag a brush through it first.

I sat patiently for what seemed like an eternity while my makeup was done. I felt like a doll.
I do my special “going somewhere other than the shops” makeup (tinted moisturiser, lipstick and mascara). I narrowly avoid blinding myself as I attempt to apply eyeliner. I feel like a clown.

I finally put on my wedding dress – the most expensive thing I’ve ever worn – for real. I was laced in and – thanks to the alterations – it fits perfectly.
I stand in front of my wardrobe and deliberate between jeans and a dress. Unable to decide, I yell downstairs for advice. The shouted reply is to wear something comfy. Based on the absence of unshaven legs and the presence of pockets, I choose the jeans.

I admired my three gorgeous bridesmaids in their dresses.
We wrestle our children into clean clothing. I muse that it would be easier to place two irate octopi into string bags in a sauna.

I carefully buckled my wedding shoes on my perfectly pedicured feet, then added the earrings my fiancé gave me for my birthday nine days earlier. The antique lace veil my soon-to-be mother-in-law loaned me completed my outfit.
Stepping into my everyday shoes, I ignore the very chipped nail polish on my toes. I add the necklace my husband gave me for my birthday nine days earlier. As an afterthought, I clip a fake flower into my hair. I silently place bets on how long it will stay there, and which son will be responsible for its demise.

We posed gracefully for elegant, effortlessly natural photos that I love to look at and will cherish for a long time.
At a later time I discover that one of my sons has taken a series of unflattering photos of me sprawled on the couch asleep. I briefly worry that I am stifling a nascent creative spirit before I ruthlessly delete the lot.

Everyone told me how beautiful I was.
Alpha gravely informs me I look very pretty.

I walked down the aisle and saw my fiancé smiling.
I walk down the stairs and see my husband smile.

Then.
Now.

I was his bride.
I still am.

STOP EVERYTHING!!

The Blue Fork is missing.

Okay, so that was probably a little dramatic. And perhaps a touch cryptic. I’m not talking about some hipster band or a beloved stuffed toy – no, that would be an absolute crisis (talking about a lost toy going missing, I mean…the only bands I follow avidly these days are The Wiggles and Lah-Lah’s Big Live Band. Definitely not hipster.)

I’m talking about an actual fork. A blue plastic fork. I realise the capital letters may have confused you. The thing is, this particular piece of cutlery is so beloved that it’s like it’s part of the family. We’ve even given it an affectionate pet name – the Blue Fork (didn’t see that coming, hey?.

Anyway, it’s missing. Completely gone. Vanished. We haven’t seen it all year (I love doing that in January!). We really have searched high and low. I’m not far from making posters advertising a large reward. Okay, maybe just a medium one…erring on the smaller side. I might be willing to surrender the last Tim Tam to go with a gratefully made cup of coffee (it’s all in the wrist).

See, Alpha loves blue. Currently, he will not consume a morsel of food if it is not lovingly presented on a blue plate/bowl/tarpaulin to be delicately enjoyed with the finest blue cutlery Mummy could buy ($2 for an 18-piece rainbow set from IKEA). Mealtimes have been a battle all year (see? It’s fun!) because there is No Blue Fork. My poor neglected child has been forced to use the orange fork. Side note: my iPad desperately tried to make me capitalise orange fork, but I couldn’t let it – we really just don’t love it enough.

So now we have a conundrum. Do I try and plan meals that do not require the use of a fork for the foreseeable future? Or do I brave a trip to IKEA in the school holidays?

I know what you’re thinking – it’s a close call.

Anyway, happy 2015! If you need me, I’ll be in the corner in the foetal position.