The school holidays are a week in, the Royal Melbourne Show is on, AFL Grand Final day(which I give approximately zero of a shit about) is upon us and it is a flurry of crowds, activities and money flying out of the wallet.
Grumpy’s hours are still all over the place, very little can be scheduled with any sort of reliability; partly due to his hours and mostly due to the fact that children have whims that can move from one end of the spectrum to another before you’ve got a half blink in.
Monkey Boy went off to work with him, with advice that he’d probably be home “around lunchtime” … and by 7.14 it felt something like 11.49 and I was close to losing the plot after “being stuck in the house all morning”.
I put the happy, smiley Mummy Voice on and did a rather enthusiastic “Let’s go to the zoo, shall we?”
I could tell it was fake, because who in their right mind says “Shall we” whilst doing a little skip and clapping her hands together? Other than, of course, a rather stressed out Mother, overcompensating for her rapidly declining temper and wanting to get the fuck out before someone died.
This lead to a little bit of cajoling and convincing before the “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Look, just get in the frigging car! You know we’re going, so just stop arguing with me.”
A little more discussion was had about lack of shoe-age and we eventually made it out the door and to the zoo. Before it had opened, which only gave Godzilla ammunition for complaining about the length of the line.
I let Grumpy know where we’ll be on the very off chance he does finish when he thinks he will and can meet us. He replies by text.
He is most miffed when I reply “Are you being facetious?”
I think he was. Bastard. But it made me smile.
Just being outdoors, sun shining, monkeys peeing, walking around and enjoying the fresh air did wonders for my mood. It takes me away from the house where I do my best to Get Things Done and am incessantly thwarted, followed by increasingly frustrated and grumpy. Attempts to play with them result in my being told to “go away” as “that’s not how you do that!” and I go back to doing what I need … am thwarted, become frustrated, rinse and repeat.
Being away from it all gives my brain a break. Ish.
It was nice. Just nice being out and about, having a giggle and chatting to the kids. Just fun.
Done by 10.30 I really wasn’t ready to go home and face more of the same, so figured a grocery shop would be roughly the same cost as a trip to the show, just as crowded, just as traumatic, but with the benefit of acquiring some much needed provisions. Given most of our meals consist of pasta and we have exactly none left, this was a strong indication that things were dire and something needed to be done about it sooner, rather than later.
So off we go to the supermarket, accompanied by the obligatory “I don’t want to go shopping” (the ten year old) and “Dis isn’t the way we go home!” (the five year old), obtain three trolleys because I have no idea why and set about our task. This was aided by the intermittent text messages from Grumpy’s phone, but clearly sent by Monkey Boy, requesting all manner of things we don’t normally purchase but that he has taken a liking to.
The supermarket is crowded, which inspires the kids to push their trollies down the aisles sideways and argue over who was hosting what in their respective trolley.
A poor dad almost suffered some serious sort of internal injury, keeping in a laugh in in the cereal aisle as I tried to calmly explain to Chippie that, no, just because the picture on the box has grapes on it does not actually mean you