Mornings.

Yesterday, was another one of those mornings. Despite my utter dedication to my washing, and I kid you not, I recently made the washing machine smoke....admittedly rinsing yoga mats....one child couldn't find a shirt and another shorts. My husband's stress levels went up and names were called in the heat of the moment. Then suddenly the house was empty and I was left in the kitchen with messy hair, in my bathrobe doing the washing up and feeding the baby porridge. Then it was time for Bikram Yoga. Don't think this was a freak one off occurrence, this is EVERY weekday morning in our house.

Later.....while I was pegging out the washing my husband sent me a sms 'Does "my baby" and "my washerwoman" want to have lunch?'. My instant reaction was to work out what I could rustle together to feed him before he materialised in the kitchen. But no, he meant lunch as in where somebody else does the cooking.....and a glass of wine.

Conveniently, Flathead Fish Cafe is just around the corner.....so I rang ahead and booked the highchair. Because we needed it. This is "my baby":

They have a $21 two course lunch menu. I had the Thai fishcakes:

And a fish pie:

Did I mention that there was wine? It was all delicious in the way that food cooked by somebody else always is.

After lunch, and back at it, in between picking the boys up.....same school....one 2.30pm and the other 3.30pm, I went to the shop for groceries. I'm ashamed to admit that recently I have really started enjoying songs they dredge up and play at the shop....'If you like Pina Coladas, getting caught in the rain....' and then yesterday 'My baby takes the morning train.....'. While I was singing along emptying the basket (to my four year old's utter embarrassment) it took me right back to the very early 1980's and singing those very same lyrics into my hairbrush at boarding school.....at the age of about eleven. Who would have thought that those lyrics would one day echo my reality....except for the bit about the four children and all of that washing and cooking etc? Time doesn't really go slowly by. Oh, and we don't have commuter trains in Hobart. Maybe I need to ditch the bathrobe and find a turquoise pantsuit instead.

Rx