The Week of Lasts

Sorry I haven’t been around much recently. I’ve been a little busy. We decided to take our lovely cosy, ordered life and turn it upside down…

…and pack it into boxes and move to the other side of our suburb.

It’s so incredibly exciting – we’re going into a BIG house with a backyard. The kitchen is twice the size of our current one. I can’t wait.

It’s so incredibly terrifying – we moved in over seven years ago as newlywed a and are moving out a family of four. We have so much stuff to pack and so little time. I can’t do this.

Yes, I can. I just don’t know how sane I’ll be at the end of the week.

So this is our week of lasts.
The last Monday coffee with friends before we move.
The last lazy Saturday sleep in.
The last church service.
The last meal in our first home.
The last night sleeping here.
The last time I have to drag two kids and groceries up to the third floor with a full bladder.
The last time I hang our washing on the balcony.
The last time I run out of hot water halfway through washing my hair.

I just have to get through this week. All offers of coffee and chocolate gladly accepted.

Grimy Glasses

I’ll be the first to admit I became a parent with a number of expectations – farewelling my precious sleep-ins and tripling my time in the laundry were things I knew were a given. Some things surprised me though. I was surprised to discover that this hardened nocturne can actually do early mornings every day. I was also amazed by how wide a blast range an occupied high chair has.

But the thing that surprised me the most was how incredibly dirty my glasses now get.

I’ve worn glasses since I was 7. I managed to get through primary and high school without them getting too dirty. I survive working in air conditioning without too much grime gunking up my specs. Nothing prepared me for the filthy film I clean off my glasses every couple of hours now I’m a parent.

Why? Sure, kids are fascinated by glasses – mine are no different. Alpha is mostly out of that phase, but Zulu is firmly in it. I’m blinded by the sudden (and yet totally predictable) theft of my glasses at least once a day. His chubby little fingers find their way to my lenses almost every time I hold him. There they pat, stroke, point and grab.

But even that doesn’t account for the layer of sheer scum that builds up so quickly – they’re often dirty at the end of one of Zulu’s naps, so that rules him out as sole culprit. I clean my glasses with a proper lens cloth and spray at least three times a day. I wipe them clean with whatever semi clean item of clothing I’m wearing at least half a dozen times more.

I have no idea how I can account for how dirty they get.

Okay, that’s not 100% true. I have one theory.

I think the saying about boys is true – they really are noise with dirt on it. Perhaps when they’re really noisy they dislodge dirt and send it flying out across the room, just looking for something clean to land on.

My boys are always noisy. Thus, my glasses are always dirty.

Nailed it.

The Pumpkin and the Boy

Let me tell you a tale…

Boy was at the shops with his mummy when it happened. Mummy picked up a pumpkin. Boy asked to hold it. Mummy warned him it might be heavy, but Boy was not dissuaded.

Their connection was deep and instantaneous. Boy bravely carried his new friend the whole way around the shops. He made sure he reminded Mummy every now and then how heavy his new friend was, but refused to be separated.

There were nearly tears when Mummy told him they had to give it to the lady so they could buy it. Boy surrendered his friend only after repeated assurances they would be reunited immediately. Sure enough, they were – and all was right with the world in that instant.

Boy was honoured to carry his boon companion home, and gently lugged carried it up to the third floor. There he welcomed his friend into his home – and Mummy began to have an inkling of how special this pumpkin really was.

Boy and his pumpkin were inseparable for the rest of the afternoon. They were spotted snuggling on the couch when Boy was weary. They sat at the table together when Boy needed to eat. They watch quality children’s TV shows together.

Mummy realised she needed to find a home for the pumpkin overnight so that there were no tears at bedtime. She asked Boy where he thought the pumpkin should sleep. To her great surprise and relief, he announced pumpkin should sleep in the oven. So into the cold oven the pumpkin went. While there was a plea for the pumpkin to usurp the spot of Boy’s teddy, there were no major squash dramas. Mummy hope that would be the end of it and that no mention of the his vegetable partner would be made in the morning.

Clearly Mummy was delusional.

As soon as Boy was out of bed, he politely inquired as to the whereabouts of his friend. Sensing she would be fighting a losing battle, Mummy retrieved the pumpkin from his nightly dwellings and handed it to her son.

Boy was dismayed at the cold reception his friend gave him after a night on the element. He quickly realised he would need to work harder to help his friend feel at home. He offered his friend his favourite blanket for warmth and they sat together for some time in the early hours of the morning while Mummy wondered how much coffee she’d need to get through the day.

The next day began with Boy sobbing for his pumpkin before the sun was up. The pumpkin emerged from where Mummy had craftily hid it (the fridge) to once again be swaddled and snuggled.

Later that day, Boy took the momentous step of inscribing his tribal markings on the pumpkin, introducing his friend t his grandparents the tribal elders, and bestowing a name upon it – Punkien.

Mummy began to wonder how this could possibly end well.

But there was hope for Mummy yet. She caught Boy – not once, but at least twice – muttering to himself about pumpkin soup being yummy in his tummy.


I cleaned the house today.

…actually, it was just the bathroom.

….and I only mopped the floor.

When I say ‘mopped’, I may just mean ‘wiped dry with a towel’.

…and it’s entirely possible that I only did that because a certain toddler had been very enthusiastic in his teeth cleaning this morning.

Total domestic goddess here.