seven days

I type this as I consume a vodka and lemonade. When I was a teenager and a twenty something, I was a very accomplished party girl and one vodka and lemonade would have a) had very minimal effect and b) turned into many vodkas and lemonades.

This week has finally come to the 'end' and all I can decide on for my dinner, with any kind of clarity, that is, is this icy vodka and lemonade.

This week was tough for us, I've been in a state of panicky anxiousness for most of it, the Jelly Bean had his developmental assessment with the paediatrician, I have reports due, exams to mark, VCE papers in such a towering pile of looming disaster that I wish I was an ostrich that could breathe under sand, I had to get people I don't normally ask to look after the Bean when I had school commitments, I had to have a difficult talk with a parent about their teenager who has talked to me about difficult things, I cried in the Assistant Principal's office, I've had to learn how to do budgets for subjects at work, I've had to vacuum and clean and pay bills and wash dishes and hang out clothes and blah blah blah.

We all have this shit every day.

But my shit is just shit.


I have two friends who have lost or are losing family members.

This week.

A friend has told me that his 3 month old isn't responding to visual or aural stimuli. That he has been at the Royal Childrens' Hospital.

This week.

Another friend is lonely.

This week.

Another friend is having panic attacks. Again.

This week.

My son might not be as mature as 'the others'. My son might not listen to instructions as well as 'the others'. My son might not go to school next year with 'the others'. My son might not write or draw or cut or paste or paint or ride a bike as well as 'the others'.

But I have no idea what 'the others' are dealing with.

And my son is safe and happy and healthy and has food is his belly and clothes on his back and a roof over his head and trips overseas and good books. He loves sharks and cars and dinosaurs. He watches cool movies and rocks in the car to fabulous music.

And he has said some hilarious things.

This week.

Things the Jelly Bean says:

1. TB: Mama, I'm going to squash your brains and your veins!

2. Alarm goes off on Friday morning. The Jelly Bean has already been in my bed for approximately 7 minutes. This is a daily routine. (How does he know when it is 7 minutes to the alarm?)

TB: It's Friday, we have to stay in bed. See that sign, it says 'Stay in Bed'.
Me: I've gotta go to work, dude.
TB: Nah, I've closed the gates, we can't get up.
Me: What gates? I need to open them.
TB: No you can't, they're stuck to the bed.

3. There is a giant pile of sand on my couch.

Me: Look at all the sand on my couch.
TB: We need a sweeper truck.
Me: I think if you take your shoes off that might just help.
TB: Nah, the truck'll do it.

4. Looking at my Phoenix tattoo.

TB: I want a tattoo.
Me: Not until you're a big man.
TB: But I want one, now.
Me: No babe, it's very dangerous to get tattoos when you are too little.
The Bean cries. Properly.

5. The Bean had a run in with his dangle. It wasn't as bad as There's Something About Mary, but it wasn't pretty either.

Me: Can you put your slippers away please?
TB: I can't, Mama, it'll give me a sore dangle.

6. The Bean holds his hands at weird angles and tells me to do the same. It is for a story.

TB: And the sea monster is like this, and it comes up out of the rocks. Make some rocks with your hands, Mama.
Me (makes rocks with my hands)
TB: And then the sea monster goes over and crashes into the boat. CRASH!
Me: Whoah.
TB: Then the sea monster goes back under the rocks to eat his dinner.
Me: What do sea monsters have for dinner?
TB: Vita Brits.

7. The Bean is reading a book on the couch. I lie down next to him.
Me: Wow, what a busy week.
TB: At work?
Me: Yeh.
TB: I had a very busy week at kinder, too.
Me: Did you? What did you do at kinder today?
TB: Oh just some painting and pasting and reading on the mat and playing outside. It was very busy.

8.
TB: Sea monsters don't fit in tea cups, Mama.

9. I was lying on the couch and The Bean was pretending to cut my hair (involves pretend scissors and lots of messing my hair all over the place).

Me: I'm very tired.
TB: Well close your eyes then.
Me: Oh bless. You are lovely.
TB: Thank you... Now close your eyes so I can cut your eye hairs off.