~ the day you plan to have possibly the season’s last barbecue will be the day your husband has a seminar and won’t be home until late, so you’ll end up cooking your sausies in a pan inside. And your children will throw them on the floor to join the morning’s rice bubbles and corn flakes that haven’t quite been vacuumed up yet…
~ pikelets. Little puffs of YUM.
~ we have our first cold of the term. Tiny got it, then two days later, Pickle got it, then two days after that, I got it. Ugh. I look forward to the days when my children stop wiping their snot all over me.
~ The other night, I dreamed that Pickle had spilled a whole lot of tiny Lego pieces in our bed, and I ended up talking in my sleep. “Oh no!” I cried, feeling all the tiny pieces under my pillow. Except it wasn’t really Lego. It was sand. Thanks, biggest boy-child.
~ Pickle’s favourite part of going to bed is currently saying “Nigh-night, cat” and blowing kisses to the framed Le Chat Noir hanging in our upstairs landing.
~ a long time – a lifetime – ago, I had a monthly massage. My masseuse was a short, stocky guy with fingers like fat sausages, but boy, did those sausages know how to work out the knots. He had a rule – swearing was okay, hitting was not – and after my hour session, I would practically float out of his clinic. I never did try to hit him, but I’m sure I would have uttered a naughty word on occasion.
~ yesterday, I took a leaf out of Jess‘ book, and did some ruthless decluttering. In a little over an hour, I got rid of so much stuff, and if I hadn’t had to stop to get ready for kindy, I reckon I could have culled even more. I was in the zone. I also did something I’ve been promising my husband I’d do since we moved into our new house, six months ago…made more space for his shoes.