Remember back in the day when weekends meant brunches out? Yeah, vaguely. And then suddenly there was The Void. Tiredness and morning feeds and early naps meant that for a while there, weekend brunches traipsed off with the unicorns but alas, we’re back. Life, as it seems, does eventually resemble what it used to be (or at least a distant third cousin of what it used to be). Two days in a row now we’ve had breakfast out, and proper trendy breakfasts, mind you, not just the corner shop B&E. Friday’s Copper Mill wasn’t so awesome but yesterday, Three Williams absolutely nailed it.
Every birthday boy deserves a party, even if he doesn’t actually know what the heck is going on. Last Saturday, we celebrated Sam’s 1st birthday (as well as the fact that we’ve survived a whole year ourselves) with beautiful sunshine, friends and family, and lots and lots of deliciousness.
Today, my little snugglebug turns one. 12 months ago, right at this very moment, I’d been a mother for all of 25 minutes. I’d spent 16 hours in labour, tried to deal with the pain drug-free (failed), tried gas (failed – because honestly, aside from making my head feel a little wooh-wooh, it really didn’t do much for me) and after 12 hours of the most excruciating pain ever, an overpaid anesthesiologist stuck a needle in my back and all was right with the world again. I lay there in a beautiful drug-induced numbness, appreciating my pain-free body like I’d never done before. And 25 minutes ago to the second, my world changed forever with the arrival of the most precious bundle I would ever have the honour of cuddling.
Two weeks ago, I sat in a taxi and bawled my eyes out as it hurtled me towards the airport. The poor taxi driver. He didn’t know what to do with this highly upset, possibly volatile female in his back seat. He kept quiet and drove me further and further away from my baby.
Sydney, what the heck? Last week, we were boasting weather in the mid-20’s, kicking off our boots and quickly lashing on some polish on our hibernating toes so we could confidently flop around in our Havaianas. And this week? A measly 14 degrees celcius to call our own. Wet. Cold. Noodle. Soup. Need. Now.
It’s Wednesday. Hump day. I’ve been in back to back meetings since lunch time. I have a half hour break at 7.30pm, and then I’m on again until who knows when. I have no time to make dinner, I barely have time to pee (and I so desperately need to!). My stomach starts to grumble and I know this, this is the time to prioritise.
I tell my 6pm meeting that I’ll be five minutes late and… Menulog.