So much to do, so little time
I have so many things i want to do right now, and, yes, one of them is blogging. I have been missing putting my thoughts to the eter lately, and there is a lot that has been happening between my ears recently, but there never seems to be the time to get it down. Right now I'm between loads of laundry from our skiing trip, so I've got, maybe 15 minutes to try and get some coherency out.
The simple stuff first: we went on a road trip to the snow. We spent a day in Sydney at Luna Park, which Patrick really got into, but not as much as the first time we took him there. Then we drove down to Canberra to see the outlaws, and then on to Jindabyne. The idea was that the outlaws would look after the boys whilst me and MrT hit the slopes, but on the first morning as we were getting ready to go, MamaT floored me with "I hate the snow: I hope you're not expecting me to hang around up there". I mean, FFS, that was the whole idea. And she knew it. She then proceeded to make the entire trip one long whinge fest. The accomodation wasn't good enough. It was too cold (I told her to put the heater in her room overnight, but, noooo, that would mean she had nothing to complain about). The boys were bored. It was too sunny. It was too windy. It was raining. Moan moan moan. I'd suggest something like "Take Patrick out to see the diggers (the snow groomers)", and she'd say, "Oh, no. I culdn't do that". "Take him for a ride on the chairlift" "Oh, no. I'm scared of heights". "Take him on the skitube and ride up and down the mountain" "Oh, no. I couldn't do that.""Take him out on the toboggan run""Oh. No." Let's put it this way: a two year old boy spent three and a half days at a skifield with his grandparents, and how many snowmen did they make? None. Not a single one. This is the level of apathy and crap we- no, wait, I had to deal with. Because I forced her to go there. All she had to say was "No, I'm busy that week" and I would've flown my mum up. And to cap it all off? Apparently I wasn't grateful enough. FFS. FFS. The answer is easy, though: I'll never ask her to babysit again. Simple. We spent 2K on a week where I felt that every time I was having some fun, I was personally responsible for her having such a crap time.
We spent 2 days on the way back in Canberra: Weston Park- which I remember as being the most awesome place in the universe as a kid- is now a sad, sad shadow of its former self. Whilst we were there, so many young adults came along and said "This used to be the BEST playground"- and it was. It looks like the ACT government hasn't spent any money there in the last 20 years. Truly sad. The next day we went to Questacon, which IS great: Patrick enjoyed it, but so did we- several times me or MrT were playing with something and then we'd look at each other and say "Where's Patrick" and have to run off and find him. He was both enthralled and scared of the robot dinosaurs: he kept on saying "More Dinosaurs!" but as soon as we took him in, he'd point at the exit "no! There!". A great place to visit.
Now- the harder stuff. Except I can hear the machine is on its last rinse.
Motherhood 2.0 is both better and worse. I'm not as depressed, but I still have days when I don't even want to get out of bed, and I can't see the point of doing much, as I have so little time to achieve anything. But there are also days when I feel so at peace and happy, I could just die. Oliver is a totally different baby to Patrick: he is happy and laid back. But he is also easily bored. MrT and Patrick caught the train home from Sydney (he blew our cover as cool Sydneysiders- we caught the train into the city from our suburban motel and he was "Train! Another Train! Blue one Train! Mummy! More Trains! Big one! Train goes FAST!". But his enthusiasm brought smiles from other commuters- a rare thing indeed). What was I saying? Oh, yes, easily bored- so me and Ollie drove home after a trip to Ikea: after stopping to feed him he started crying in the back seat- I figured out he was upset becase it was now dark and he couldn't see his toys- once I put on a light for him he was as happy as a clam.
Right. More... later, because the washng has finished and Ollie needs feeding.
The simple stuff first: we went on a road trip to the snow. We spent a day in Sydney at Luna Park, which Patrick really got into, but not as much as the first time we took him there. Then we drove down to Canberra to see the outlaws, and then on to Jindabyne. The idea was that the outlaws would look after the boys whilst me and MrT hit the slopes, but on the first morning as we were getting ready to go, MamaT floored me with "I hate the snow: I hope you're not expecting me to hang around up there". I mean, FFS, that was the whole idea. And she knew it. She then proceeded to make the entire trip one long whinge fest. The accomodation wasn't good enough. It was too cold (I told her to put the heater in her room overnight, but, noooo, that would mean she had nothing to complain about). The boys were bored. It was too sunny. It was too windy. It was raining. Moan moan moan. I'd suggest something like "Take Patrick out to see the diggers (the snow groomers)", and she'd say, "Oh, no. I culdn't do that". "Take him for a ride on the chairlift" "Oh, no. I'm scared of heights". "Take him on the skitube and ride up and down the mountain" "Oh, no. I couldn't do that.""Take him out on the toboggan run""Oh. No." Let's put it this way: a two year old boy spent three and a half days at a skifield with his grandparents, and how many snowmen did they make? None. Not a single one. This is the level of apathy and crap we- no, wait, I had to deal with. Because I forced her to go there. All she had to say was "No, I'm busy that week" and I would've flown my mum up. And to cap it all off? Apparently I wasn't grateful enough. FFS. FFS. The answer is easy, though: I'll never ask her to babysit again. Simple. We spent 2K on a week where I felt that every time I was having some fun, I was personally responsible for her having such a crap time.
We spent 2 days on the way back in Canberra: Weston Park- which I remember as being the most awesome place in the universe as a kid- is now a sad, sad shadow of its former self. Whilst we were there, so many young adults came along and said "This used to be the BEST playground"- and it was. It looks like the ACT government hasn't spent any money there in the last 20 years. Truly sad. The next day we went to Questacon, which IS great: Patrick enjoyed it, but so did we- several times me or MrT were playing with something and then we'd look at each other and say "Where's Patrick" and have to run off and find him. He was both enthralled and scared of the robot dinosaurs: he kept on saying "More Dinosaurs!" but as soon as we took him in, he'd point at the exit "no! There!". A great place to visit.
Now- the harder stuff. Except I can hear the machine is on its last rinse.
Motherhood 2.0 is both better and worse. I'm not as depressed, but I still have days when I don't even want to get out of bed, and I can't see the point of doing much, as I have so little time to achieve anything. But there are also days when I feel so at peace and happy, I could just die. Oliver is a totally different baby to Patrick: he is happy and laid back. But he is also easily bored. MrT and Patrick caught the train home from Sydney (he blew our cover as cool Sydneysiders- we caught the train into the city from our suburban motel and he was "Train! Another Train! Blue one Train! Mummy! More Trains! Big one! Train goes FAST!". But his enthusiasm brought smiles from other commuters- a rare thing indeed). What was I saying? Oh, yes, easily bored- so me and Ollie drove home after a trip to Ikea: after stopping to feed him he started crying in the back seat- I figured out he was upset becase it was now dark and he couldn't see his toys- once I put on a light for him he was as happy as a clam.
Right. More... later, because the washng has finished and Ollie needs feeding.
posted by jen at 5:54 PM
3 Comments:
bugger, my previous attempt at a comment got lost in the black hole of blogger.
something about not feeling like i should comment on someone else's MIL... something about mr t being lovely... something about a guilt trip not a ski trip... something something... something else. sorry. short attention span - gemini.
oh, and there was the bit where i offered to come on your next ski trip and build snow men with toddlers. (coz ollie will be a toddler by next winter!)
That's a good idea. Next time, take the Twinkle's mum instead.
That's great that Patrick got such a kick out of going on the train. We took Teo on the light rail the other day and he had such a great time. He kept talking about going on the MAX and the Streetcar (we have two different ones).
That's interesting that Ollie is bored easily. I would have thought that with a big brother to watch all day, he would be highly entertained.
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