The Universe has spoken to me. It said: Anna Rummey listen up! Stop behaving like a nitwit and be grateful for the things you have, otherwise I will begin to take them away from you. One. By. One.
Last week when PB denied me of a little shopping spree I had conjured up in my head, it was met not without rage. I had many good reasons for my plans to purchase, I just wanted to see things I like and buy them, I know I don't need anything but I want it, the guy at the counter told me they lay-by for 6 weeks but they're like you know really lenient about it and the shop I was aiming for had some seriously rad wares.
PB had some good reasons to halt my agenda. Primarily his argument was based around us not having enough money for me to buy more clothes.
It's moments like these I feel grateful for having a tolerant husband that will let an occasional tanty slide.
But that evening I walked through the house and bumped the clock – the clock my mother bought over thirty years ago – which shot down to the floor and smashed. I'm not sure if it scared me or BB more, but our tears were of equal volume.
My gut feeling was always to move the clock to a safer spot. Next time I'll listen to my gut, and when I decide I need a superfluous shop I will kindly remind myself I have a houseful of cool stuff I should be very appreciative of. And if I need more I will go to an Op Shop with no more than a ten dollar note. (Or thereabouts).
Images: 1. A sensational pillowcase win on eBay, brought to me by the Universe because I kept missing out on floral sheets (which seem to be going very high these days). 2. The clock – which I think can be repaired. 3. A (small) selection of unreal cards I scored at an Oppie the other day.
Recent conversations with my husband:
Me: Does this look ok? A bit matchy matchy?
PB: No. It's looks good. You look great. I like it when you look relatively normal.
Me: I saw the lizard in our kitchen again yesterday.
PB: Cool! It's good to have a resident lizard.
Me: Oh yeah?
PB: He'll eat all the spiders. Just like on an organic farm. And you like organic stuff.
Me: I found the wee smell. It's on the bathroom floor.
PB: Are you sure?
Me: Yes. I knelt down and smelt it.
PB: I was going to do that too.
PB: Tomorrow after work I'm going to clean the bathroom. Get in there and obliterate it for you.
PB: I can't wait to have a big family. Take the kids out of school and go on camping trips.
Me: Or we could go during school holidays.
PB: Naaaah. That doesn't suit me.
The three of us – baby out of belly this time – went to Wendy's Garden today and sat in the same spot we were married one year ago. Happy first wedding anniversary PB. Love you to smithereens. xx
Nicole came to visit this weekend. My dear, dear friend from Melbourne, who is able to make you feel like you're the only person in the world when she speaks to you. Some people have an unreal ability to focus themselves entirely into your conversation. I'm working my way towards that.
Weekends go quickly when they're good ones. PB went to the Manly surfing festival and came home hysterical-in-a-good-way. We met Jill for a coffee and mooched about the markets, leaving as the proud owners of this rug which we're both enamored with. Rugs are a funny thing. They're not something you can just go and purchase – unless you can go purchase this, we certainly can't – they're something you have to find. And then you both have to agree on your find. And then you have to find finances for your find. It's all very complicated.
But we love the rug. And we love Nic. Thanks for visiting us. We miss you already. xxx
I've always said I only require approximately 6 hours sleep. PB on the other hand needs his 8 -10 – like one may need water or air. In addition to this mammoth sleepathon he also likes to add cheeky nana-naps in during the day. He says he needs more sleep than me and that's just how it is. Suck. It. Up.
Last night I was feeling fluey so I went to bed at 7.30. This morning I felt like gold. GOLD! And I thought to myself, is this what normal people feel like every day? Is the what my husband feels like every day? No wonder he is so protective over his sleep! He does always say it's the hours you put in before midnight that count.
I'm not saying I'm going to aim for this every night, but once or twice a week? Maybe.
Three morning swims in as many days.
The Small Lady – in pink, again – allowed me to put her in the water today. Chewing on my goggles was the trade-off during her time in the sea pool.
I bought new swimmers this week. Not an easy task when all of a sudden breastfeeding has made my two halves different sizes. The land of separates is a confusing shopping experience.
After fondling a handful of numbers BB finally chose the winner – which I wrenched from her mouth before it was lost forever.
And the dimple hat goes to...
Tilly and the Bean!
Congratulations. I'm sure Amelia – who is around the same age as BB and also sports some spectacular peepers – is going to love it. Please email me to arrange colours and sizing.
I'm a bit angry at myself for not taking many pictures but it was nice to put the camera down chill out. And thank you mother nature for stopping the rain for one day. Because if you didn't we would have been picnicing on the living room floor, which wouldn't have been very cool at all.
Happy (belated) 8 months little Baby Bear.
The other day I bumped into a lady from my mother's group. We spoke briefly and during this time her very cute daughter sat angelically in the pram. Smiling softly whilst playing with her toy. The mother joked with me that they call her an angel because she is so well behaved. And how about Rosie she asked?
Oh, Rosie's great. Just great. You know, fierce and determined, but just great. I had to speak loudly as the child I was speaking about was grunting, screaming and doing whatever she could in an attempt to remove herself from the stroller.
Yup. Fierce. Determined. And very hard to keep still in a chair. (I was warned about that...)
We couldn't be prouder of our little imp.
PS. Note to self: remove beetroot fully from child's face before taking monthly portrait.
PPS. BB will draw the winner of the dimple hat next week. No time today to write out the numbers.
Pedi time again. Coffee and Vogue. Batteries recharged.
Initially I had a different colour in mind, but upon entering the establishment and surveying my heart-stopping legs and yellow footwear – it was clear there was no other choice.
PS. If anyone has a pair of similar vintage terry toweling pants, if you swing them my way I'd be ever so grateful.
PPS. BB is 8 months old today. No time for portraits, mama needed a break. Tomorrow we will attempt to get her in the rocker and take her picture. A difficult task.
Remember the dimple hat? It's a bit warm for woolly hats at the moment but I pulled it out for a quick photo. The super-talented Vicki from Dover & Madden has offered make a dimple hat for one Rummey Bears reader. I am a huge fan of her work. Her knitting skills are nothing short of spectacular.
Leave a comment and BB will pick the winner on Saturday. The winner can choose a colour and size (from NB – 24 months) and Vicki will make it to order.
My dad has gone back to Melbourne. I wasn't sure how he'd be with her but he was fantastic. Followed her around while she slowly made her way across the house bah-bah-bahing.
It's not a crawl. It's more like a downward-dog shuffle. On hands and feet – and occasionally one knee for support. The other day I saw her make her way to the sofa and pull herself up. I'm happy for her that she can get around. Her frustration has eased. So has the pain to our eardrums.
Photos taken on the ferry. The Small Lady demonstrating her standing skills and mighty grip.