• Thomas Price


In all seriousness TGIF. I know there are a whole mountain of sarcastic memes out there with captions like ‘TGIF – said no mum ever’, but I promise I’m not being sarcastic.

Every Friday morning we go to the library and Indi sings songs with two lovely ladies (and sometimes a man with a fiddle) who are happy to stand in front of fifty kids and their parents and look like fools while singing ‘Skinamarinky Dinky Dink’; it marks the end of the week. And just like when I was in Primary School and marked each Friday with a jam and cream bun from the tuckshop, it is my reminder that once again I made it through another week.
You know when you’re reading a book, (a particularly hard book to read but it does have it’s amazingly beautiful moments so you want to keep going?), and as you’re approaching the end of a chapter you get that overwhelming sense of relief? Friday is my end of chapter.
The kids are alive, and even though there isn’t a clean dish in sight – except for the dishwasher that’s been finished since yesterday and yet to be unpacked, we made it. It’s Friday and tomorrow is Saturday, and their daddy is home and he can take turns with the seemingly constant nappy changing and tantrum negotiations.
Leaving the library I was smiling to myself about how I’m nearly there, it’s nearly the weekend, when some sweet naive P-plater decided to follow me to my car. Maybe she didn’t see the second baby hiding in the bottom seat of the pram, or maybe she’s never watched a mum with kids try and load her overloaded packhorse-pram into a car. But once I reached my car she indicated and I turned around to see her smiling like she’d hit the carpark jackpot.
It takes me a good eight minutes to get in the car, once I’ve got my toddler in to her seat and explained why she has to put her arms in the seatbelts, and then put them back in once she unweaves them, and then repeat this about ten times while she screams, I’ve got to get the baby in, getting a baby on a freezing cold day into a carseat that doesn’t allow room for extra padding means fully unwrapping, waking them up because now they’re cold, attempting to soothe them and then re-warm them, and then weave the toddlers arms back into those seatbelts. Then there’s my books from the library, (sorry to everyone who was trying to read quietly while I raced through the aisles with Indi yelling ‘THE LIBRARY SHH’ on the top of her lungs), the nappy bag, the blankets, the toys that were apparently essential to bring and the pram.
The blessed pram. I hate my current pram, mostly because everytime I try and put it up or down I look like I’m having a wrestling match with in inanimate object, whilst trying to hold my pants up, and often slamming my finger in the side. I turned around and she was still indicating.
TGIF because it’s the end of the week and tomorrow there’s two of us parents at home, two on two. The playing field is even once again.

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