The Busy Weekend

As the school holidays, busy as they were, were drawing to a close, and my mind wafted about trying to grasp the necessities of Back To School, it was stop in its amblings by the realisation that the weekend was, indeed, extraordinarily busy.

Not only had the last two weeks (or, more technically, two months) afforded us with an array of birthdays and other celebrations, some familial and others not, the weekend promised even more celebration … birthday, wedding, birthday, birthday, school camp, get organised for school.

Post traumatically distressed by the No Internet Debacle of 2014 and my polar interactions with a variety of Telstra personnel, I was also subdued by the Overwhelm of Catching Up, the attempts to manage the variety of thoughts worming through my brain, now the ideas had an outlet to bloom, calming an Anxious/Excited child for his week long school camp, interstate, and the need for a pair of shoes for the wedding we were invited to, I also agreed to contribute the cake for one of the birthdays occurring over the weekend.

Chippie, still determined that his tantrums are going to get him what he wants also threw a few of those in there, until I literally gave up and just lie on the floor and refused to do anything.

(Although, I was still in need of shoes. Damnit!)

Grumpy’s work, in typical fashion, resulted in him not being home even close to the hour he suggested he may be, instead ringing to tell me he was some four hours away.

It was all going well on Friday, really.

Well enough to have me wanting to embrace the Foetal Position with relish. Not, obviously, the relish one would use as a spread on bread, but the other kind of relish. Not a chutney either.

The cake was in the midst of being iced when a flurry of teenagers – is that the collective noun for teenagers? Perhaps a “whiff of teenagers” or a “gangle of teenagers” or a “fucking shut up of teenagers”? – descended upon the house and planted themselves firmly in front of the TV.

I still had no shoes. I had escaped the house at one point, and the only size of shoe that I liked was the only size shoe they didn’t have.

So I simply gave up again.

By Friday evening, I was relatively exhausted and taking each event as it came, carefully dealing with each thing as required. Generally, this is about 35 things at any one time anyway. So I think I did okay.

Managing to get most of the camp bag packed on Friday, the cake mostly completed, a frock chosen and still no new shoes, meant I could go into Saturday with a relative calm. Relative calm, incidentally, means crazy chaos, as opposed to Absolute Fucking Mayhem.

Dipping strawberries into two kinds of chocolate ganache – HA, white chocolate, you will never defeat me again! – Monkey Boy receives a phone call requesting his presence at the impending birthday party a good hour before originally scheduled. This, apparently, meant I was required to complete the cake an hour before I had even started it and what the hell was I doing, can’t I just hurry up and can we leave now. Urgh!

Cake and child delivered to teenage birthday party, rush home, rush up street to purchase squishy things for inside of shoes I did have, rush home, shower, don’t wear the frock or shoes I had decided to wear, do hair and makeup, don frock, rip hole in tights when putting them on, say ‘shit fucking buggery fuck’ several times as we are now pushing Running Late, find some other tights, yell at kids about their attire, have many, many words to them about their attendance at wedding, ponder the fact that six-year-old has determined “wedding cake is boring” and wonder if it is because it has the word “wedding” attached to it or if he has just decided everything is boring and has no verbal filter, and do the 1.5 hour drive to arrive at wedding early.


Sit through lovely ceremony, go for coffee, play on playground for several hours, head to reception, enjoy that, then embark upon the looooong drive home which sees us in bed at 12.30a.m.

Not content with already being busy enough, the weekend also decided to implement Daylight Savings, so the 12.30 immediately turned into 1.30a.m. and I enjoyed a broken, four hour sleep.

Muddling around, I organised Chippie for a party he’d been invited to, went to collect Monkey Boy who had wandered off to someone else’s house, located him, and arrived home just in time to head off for another party.

Just established at big person’s party when have to collect Chippie, whom, by this stage is so tired he is having meltdowns over just about everything, but mostly over getting the thing that he asked for and got.


I teetered on the edge, myself, being so tired and sleep deprived. I easily could have gone into meltdown as I tried to subdue, verbally and physically, my tantrumming offspring. Fortunately, the fatigue had placed me in a state of numbness, so I was able to address the situation with a creepy kind of calm.

Home, bed, out of bed to check that we had everything organised for school camp, back to bed, and another, fitful night’s sleep, worried I wouldn’t wake in time to take Godzilla to camp – he was already anxious/excited enough, I wasn’t sure I could cope if I added to it.

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