Monday: It’s the Queens birthday today. Actually, it isn’t but we don’t care, it’s a great excuse to have a long weekend, and we all look forward to it. The usual debate rages over barbeques all over Australia about monarchy V’s republic. A quiet day, working on the DVD. I create another 2 chapters. Thank goodness. Slow progress, but progress. Pattycam is as dead as. There is always tomorrow.
Tuesday: A lovely day with my sister June, for her birthday. We meet for lunch in a small café, and although we are the only ones there, I have to call the girl over to ask what’s on the menu, and “could we have a glass of wine please?” She seems surprised at the request. My God, customers actually wanting to order! Later, June and my mother-in-law and I go to the theatre to see a play. It’s pretty crook. At interval I play devils advocate. “So, are we going to suffer through the second act?” We decide that life’s too short, and we leave, spending another couple of hours sitting around the kitchen table chatting and having a glassa. Nice.
Wednesday: Hours of housework, then time on the computer. I really should be doing this darn DVD, but my motivation has dried up. Bleh. Poor Jarrod. What if I just write ARGHHHhhhhhh……..and fade to black? I spend a good 20 mins in front of the oven, crying. *sob, sob, like some pathetic thing. I tell myself it’s good to get the tears out, toxin build-up and all that. I feel defeated. I feel like I have let Jarrod down. I don’t know what to do for my own son’s birthday. The house still needs cleaning. It’s too much. I hold onto the oven handle for support.
Thursday: Some housework, then sitting cross-legged beside the kitchen sink. Cleaning. Urgh. The cam is on, and it occurs to me, that no-one can see me, huddled down here, but never mind. This is more important, for now. Why on earth am I cleaning under the sink, when there is so much more to be done? Distraction, I guess. Who can figure the human mind? Cleaned the oven. Raced to Bunnings to buy a table gas-heater, lots of outdoor candles, sandalwood incense sticks, and onwards to Indro to buy 18th birthday prezzies. Shop after shop, the card is dragged out and both my MasterCard and I stumble into the car park as it’s getting dark. Time to go home. Trying to sort the washing at 5.30pm. I have 2 pairs of matched socks for hubby, and 4 single socks? What on earth does my machine do to them? It’s beyond comprehension. Time to wrap birthday prezzies, and why oh why didn’t I buy more sticky tape? Grrr!
Friday: Happy birthday to my youngest son. Up at 6am to wrap his prezzies. It doesn’t seem to be much, but it adds up. I recall that we have also purchased a music festival ticket for him, months ago, so that makes me more than happy, NOW it is enough! We take down a cuppa for him, and sing Happy Birthday. When I say “we sing” I really mean just myself. Hubby rarely joins in. It gets my blood pressure up, it just seems so MEAN not to sing. I glare at him and he startles into a couple of words. “….to you, happy birthday dear….” And then he fades again. It’s like pulling teeth, and I let it go. Let it go. Breath out. Iron his business shirt, help put his shoes and socks on, tie the laces, and he is gone for the day. Bear is still asleep, but soon wanders upstairs, eager to begin his big day. I make him close his eyes and hold out his hands, and I place the imaginary music festival tickets into his hand. What the…? Is it my fault they haven’t yet arrived by post? Lol. A few prezzies later, in front of the cam, and we are done, for now. His BIG prezzie I will leave for the family to see. Annoying, but the Right Thing To Do. For now, it’s more F*(&^%g housework. Bah!
After vacuuming, we decide to put together the new tabletop gas heater, and another wood burner, for tomorrow’s party. After an hour of struggling with trying to undo the bolts for the gas burner, we are both defeated. Our attentions turn to the wood heater, too easy, after all, we have done a similar one before, right? Wrong. Another ½ hour of struggle FFS! Sheesh! Lots of other adult words, and again we are defeated.
Back to Bunnings, where I ask if a manly man can help us. Instead a huge burley 6’3” girl arrives, all muscles and strength. If she ain’t gay, she should be, *coughs. She’s a big strong girl who also struggles. This one is really tough to do she admits finally. So we drive home, to pack both bits into boxes, and then drive all the way back there.
Finally we exchange it for the same thing, but which SHE has done for us. Bless. That made my day. I smile driving home.
Saturday: Action day. Time to vacuum, mop and dust, finally. The backyard looks a picture, and I joke to Bear that “the good news is we get to clean-up tomorrow too!”
Ruby begins her two butter cakes, for Bears party. She has offered, and has taken on the huge challenge. She seems very happy, and smiles the whole day as she cooks, mixes, creates and assembles the cakes. I feel pretty useless, but I take photos. It’s a fantastic cake. Cakes! Bear comes up quietly to her during the day and says “Thanks so much for making my cake, I really appreciate it” and those small words make her day.
At 6pm, the first guests arrive, and my lovely boys from school all give me a genuine hug and look happy and pleased to see me. Same here. They are like part of my own family and we exchange news and exam results and chat about uni life in general. Engineering, law, science and business degrees and so on.
Smart as, these kids. Woot! I remember to take some photos, and then hubby and I drive them to the restaurant, where they will sit in private curtained rooms, on the floor with cushions and pillows. They will have a great time. Later, hubby and I are shattered, so tired, exhausted. I call a maxi-taxi, and get it to collect the kids, we have no energy to now drive back into the city in 2 cars to collect them. It adds to the excitement of the kids night out. Bear leaps out of the taxi, “Thanks mum, that was great, thanks!” and he covers my face in Bear kisses. He seems really happy with how it all went, and I am relieved. As long as he’s happy, eh? I treasure those kisses and touch each one with my finger, to make sure it stays there.
The fires are roaring, the music is on, and the night is officially away, with more guests arriving at the front door. During the night, one lad watches me produce more hot food from the oven. “You are such a good mum Mrs B” he exclaims. I blush, and he adds “No, really! You are!” and he seems very genuine, or very hungry, lol. We gather to sing Happy Birthday around Bears amazing two-plane cake, complete with a mini-me Pilot Ruby made. It’s taken her all day, and she has done a superb job.
Lots of jugs of water, more food, beds are made and readied for some of the kids to sleep over. At 2am we stagger off to bed, wrung out.
Sunday: It’s 8am and I can hear voices already. What the! The kids have all woken and are now sitting around the fire braziers, which are still slightly warm. Someone throws on some old serviettes – madly bright and exclaiming HAPPY 18TH!! and the fire catches again. They snuggle under the rugs left out overnight, and look sleepy and happy. Bear sleeps on. I make strong coffee and pots of tea, cooking up a huge batch of bacon and eggs, and lamb sausages. Breakfast is produced around the front deck, and I don’t take one photo. Too busy, and too tired. Never mind, I will remember it.
The boys all offer to help me tidy up, so a large black plastic bag is produced, and filled with empties and rubbish, plastic plates and so on. They are such a great help, and willing hands make the job easier. Poor Ruby wakes with a raging sore throat so I send her back to bed with Panadol and a mug of hot chocolate. The last girls leave at midday. The house is finally almost back to order, just a few last minute things to clean and sort.
Time to go flop in front of the telly and stare at moving pictures. I upload a few pics to the Blog, and call it quits for the day. I don’t move from the couch for 4 hours.
Dinner is leftover party food. Greek fetta-cheese triangles, meatballs and whatever else we can find, everyone is too exhausted to be bothered cooking much, or even eating. It is enough. Bed at 11.30pm, and I sleep and sleep….tomorrow is another day.