Our Christmas week was lovely. Despite all the activity, it was all low stress. We figured that everything didn’t have to fit into our usual routine – that it was ok if the kids went to bed at 10pm every night; or if the only thing Callum ate for lunch was a bread roll; or that we converted the car into a change table / wardrobe / pantry / rubbish bin because we were driving around so often.
On Boxing Day, we went to a small house party held by one of my husband’s colleagues. Gorgeous renovated house. Full of people we’ve never met. While we were socialising in the backyard, Callum decided to go into the house by himself, make himself comfortable at the buffet table and eat ALL the soft cheeses and crackers while watching the drunk party-goers dance to Neil Diamond. Oh and on the way out, I found a cool mirror in the hallway and took the picture above.
The day after, we went to Fremantle for lunch. We took a peek at the Clippers. Paddled at the beach. Ate ice cream. It was a beautiful day. Then we headed off to dinner at friend’s house. Callum got into a full on shouting argument with another kid, about who touched the garden wall first. It stopped the entire party. Everyone thought it was very entertaining.
The day after that, a couple of my web designer mates came over for a late breakfast. We cleaned the grease, grime and cockroach eggs (just kidding) off the BBQ and had a delicious cook up of bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes, salads and orange juice, while lazing around in our backyard. Oh come on I was kidding about the cockroach eggs ok!
Blahdy blah. Yeah, it’s been pretty much day after day after day of something happening. I’m so over it. I need a real holiday.