evenings

As of this moment…

I am loving the Autumn season, especially being able to watch the leaves change colour. There is something cleansing about it. And poetic too.

I am relieved and grateful that my cold is gone, and that I’m sleeping at nights again.

I am so excited about our ferry trip with the boys this morning. They were all such a delight and so well behaved the entire time. We drove to Manly Wharf, and then caught the ferry to Circular Quay where we got out for some milkshakes and coffees. A lady sat opposite us for the return trip, and as we were disembarking, she came up to me and said, “You’re a beautiful family.” I was so touched.

I can smell Rick’s spaghetti bolognese simmering on the stove top.

I’m watching Whose Line Is It Anyway, and laughing my socks off. Gosh those comedians are talented.

I am thankful for a night off together with Rick.

I hope that Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows is good!

I am looking forward to EQUIP tomorrow.

I am already missing Rick and the boys.

I would truly love to grow our family.

But, I trust in God’s timing.

I know He is in control.

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Sunday evenings, the end of an era

I know Coke isn’t exactly the international health drink, but once summer weather hits, I can’t help but crave it. Plus, Coke Zero can’t be that bad right? (Google disagrees with me, but then, Google thinks everything is bad if you use search terms like “health effects” and “health hazards” and “why does this fizzy drink make me dizzy.”)

During these last few months, I’ve been spending a lot of my Sunday evenings at home with Rick’s parents. They usually arrive in the afternoon and play with the boys then help me feed them, bath them and put them to bed. Did e’er more wonderful in-laws exist? I think not.

But wait – there’s more. Mum (ie. Mary) will always bring dinner. Yes, that’s right. She comes to babysit and she brings us food. Hands down best mother-in-law in the whole wide world (naturally, it goes without saying that she reads my blog too) – definitely one of the many reasons I married Rick.

But back to our Sunday evenings: once the boys are in bed, the three of us will sit in the living room, have dinner together, chat about our week, watch Escape to the Country, and of course wax lyrical about my husband/their son and my children/their grandsons. Throw in several cups of hot tea (not literally), and seriously, it’s close to a perfect evening.

Mary, if you’re reading this (and I know you are), know that I will genuinely miss these Sunday evenings together. Even on the nights when I’ve retreated to the studio “to do some work,” I’ve loved knowing that you and dad were in the lounge, cuddled up and watching The. No 1 Ladies Detective Agency. I know that we will find something else to do together next year, but this year has been truly special – to me, it feels like it’s the end of an era.

(These photos were taken last Sunday night, when I was in the studio… “working.” The clover flower was given to me by Angus, who wanted me to keep it in a safe place. Sadly, it started wilting pretty quickly, so that safe place is now the bin.)

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He couldn’t believe the smell

The honest truth is that I am no cook. Rick is the chef at our place. Even Angus knows that. In fact, tonight he said, “Thank you daddy for cooking me my dinner.” It was the cutest.

Last Friday night, however, I was inspired by Bri to make garlic pasta. It was as simple as could be: boil and strain pasta; dice and fry garlic; slice and blanch cherry tomatoes; mix together; season with salt and pepper.

It smelt and tasted amazing. And the ginger beer on the side wasn’t bad either.

Anyway, when Rick came home from work, he was quite surprised to find the house smelling like someone had cooked. I couldn’t have been more pleased to announce that I had in fact spent some time in the kitchen. Even more satisfying was watching him eat – and actually enjoy – the pasta. Maybe, just maybe, I might cook a little bit more.

These photos to me also capture a sense of the calm and peace that descend every evening after the boys go to bed. I love the boys, and I love being their mum. But I have to admit that usually by four or five o’clock each day, I’m just hanging out for their bedtime. Because once they’re in bed, and all is quiet in the house, that’s when I can actually sit. And eat. And think. And breathe. And relax.

And remember – amidst the craziness, exhaustion and sometimes hysteria – how truly blessed I am.

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