Playdate sans Mum
We had a major first the other week. Jordy & I went to a friends’ place for a playdate, then I nicked off and didn’t come back for over half an hour. Okay, stop laughing. Seriously, it was a really big step for us. Rob’s folks live in Indonesia and mine live in Melbourne, so we’d never really had the chance to leave Jordy with anyone before (at least while he’s been awake). Plus, I’m a wuss. Anyhow, he went great guns. By the time he’d waded through the toys and made it out the back to the dog, the trampoline, the swing set and the multi-level cubby house with his buddy Eli I was back (slightly out of breath) from my hasty shopping expedition. And his only comment when I was away was “Where’s Mummy? I’m a bit scared” before hoovering up the proffered plate of chocolate Tiny Teddies & promptly forgetting I was gone.
The Drool Factor
You can’t blame us poor Mums. After being on the oestrogen circuit of playgroup, kinder gym and swimming lessons for a few years we’ve all become a bit, well, male-deprived. So it’s little surprise when we start to get a bit swooney over the male eye candy in our lives (other than our long-suffering partners, of course). The blue and new yellow Wiggle get more than their fair share of female ogling. So does Sportacus from Lazytown (well, he is awfully buff). Not to mention the token Dad at playgroup or the cute new teacher at the local school. It’s like being a teen again, right down to the revering of all-male pop groups (goodbye Duran Duran, hello Hooley Dooleys). And at the end of the day, it’s great for a laugh and a bit of good girly bonding. Just back off Sportacus, okay? He’s mine, even if he does live in Iceland.
I’ve heard all the stories about scary monster-in-laws but truth be told, I adore my husband’s folks. Okay, so they don’t live here, which undoubtedly makes a world of difference, but having them here for two months out of every four is just a dream set-up. They are semi-retired now, and fly out from Indonesia to hang out with us several times a year. Mum S puts me to shame with her high energy levels as she whips us all into a familial frenzy of catch-ups, big meals, celebrations and mini-breaks together. It’s great. After the success of the motherless playdate, my in-laws agreed to start babysitting Jordy for one morning a week, and I can happily report the test run today was a stomping success. I got to do my errands in record time while Jordy discovered the joys of washing the toilet bowl with Mum S’s hairbrush. Although I do admit to shedding a couple of tears as I drove away from their house (he didn’t even say goodbye!) and then counting the minutes to picking him up again. My heart cracked a little that day, yet I was so proud of my independent little boy. A very bittersweet feeling.
On the Move
Apparently it’s supposed to be one of the most stressful times in your life. Apparently. Explain to me, then, why I so unaccountably excited about moving house in a few weeks’ time? We are so ready to move out of our little shoebox and into a slightly larger shoebox with a garden that it doesn’t bear thinking about. Jordan has become quite the packing box boffin, telling me exactly where to stick the sticky tape and folding the sides just so for maximum intake. He is mega excited about “the newwww house”: his bigger room with air conditioning, the large tract of grass that wraps around the house and the playground over the road. It’ll be interesting to see if that excitement persists once the house of his birth gets its last goodbye, and we’re irreversibly transported to a strange new land. And I’m not just speaking for Jordy either.