Hmmm. I need another weekend please. If I could have another weekend I’d do a whole lot of things differently. I wouldn’t waste two hours watching ‘Gravity’…sadly I didn’t see it in 3D, though I’m sure that spared me a different type of chunder. When we were at the zoo and my daughter was being thrown about like a doll by two older girls, carried and dragged about like a play thing, I would have created a diversion and whisked her away for some quiet time…before she lost her marbles…I would have sat her down and said “I understand that this is doing your head in, I know that you need to run your own show, I was sooooo like you…we can deal with this without rudeness…can’t we?…let me help you…” (Other kids might cling to their parents to get away from unwanted manhandling but my daughter becomes defiant and bolshy so it aint so much fun). When we went swimming and I bumped into someone from many, many moons ago and she said “oh my god you’re son is sooooo tiny. My daughter’s only three months younger and look at the size of her!”…I would have landed her a great big dunking under the water and swum off. When I went to Aldi and the checkout bloke hurled a week’s worth of shopping at my trolley at break neck speed (which, incidentally, I now see as a personal challenge) I would have yelled out “Game on!” and treated the stacking of my trolley as some sort of fight to the death (it kind of is). When we all went as a family to the garden centre and the kids saw it as an indoor play centre and went properly mental around the store (yes, we were that out of control family…yes we were) I would have loosened the leash a little and cared less about how this might be impacting on other shoppers. Actually, if I had the weekend again, I’d slow things down. I’d forgo the filling of every moment with things to do (though now the garden has irrigation, veggies are planted, fresh grass seeds are germinating and the wood and paint for the outdoor blackboard has been bought…somehow these things have to get done with a four year old and nearly two year old in tow) and I’d sit on the floor and let the kids climb all over me. I’d read as many books as they brought to me. I’d oooh and aaah at every scribble and glued up piece of paper. I’d entertain the “mummy, I’m Elsa not Maple” for the umpteenth time, with greater enthusiasm (some enthusiasm). I’d bring out bowls to be filled with sweet-making ingredients and sit on the kitchen floor and get covered in muck. I’d care far less about the mess. I’d care far less about the time. And there would be even more music. But I did cook the best carbonara in the history of carbonara and a couple of South Indian curries from scratch (we miss you Rasa), we did laugh our heads off at Louis C.K., we did drink wine in the late sunshine in the newly planted garden, we did question whether we are phuquing up this parenting lark and decided that we’re doing ok but there is room for improvement, and we did fall more in love with our children and each other. And there are plenty more weekends to come. Note to self.
Hello!I'm Miranda Barber. I’m all sorts of things, but currently, first and foremost a mum. Mid-second pregnancy, my family relocated from London to Melbourne via Vietnam. A rollercoaster. As a dear friend of mine so eloquently puts it: "As a mum of two you have two choices: you can either look good or feel good but you can't have both." Too right. This is an observational blog of life's car crashes and quirks on this huge learning curve. You're welcome here.
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