Bloop

Two children’s backpacks, each with a corresponding lunchbox and drink bottle

 

Time for my March blog post! What should we talk about? This month, I worked on the romantic subplot in my novel. It wasn’t easy, but I finally convinced my lovers to kiss each other. Then I went back in time and made them fight. I don’t think romance is my strong suit.

I’ve started writing for The Majellan magazine. My latest article has been published, but the only way you can read it is by buying the magazine (boo!).

The twins are going to kinder this year. You’d think I’d have got the hang of it by now, but kinder mornings are a mess! It takes so much brainpower to get two often uncooperative young ladies fed, cleaned, dressed, shod, and out the door, with an appropriately stocked lunchbox and hair neatly tied back and a water bottle each and the show-and-tell bag and that form we were supposed to fill out and return last Friday. And a sun hat and a rain jacket, because Melbourne. I’m that mum who sidles in fifteen minutes late after the doors are locked.

No. Scratch that. I was That Mum last week, but this week will be different. This week I’ll be on top of mornings. Well, not counting Monday. That was a practice day.

My sister is doing a course in life coaching and I’ve volunteered as a coachable guinea pig. This means I talk regularly with one of the student life coaches (not my sister, but her lovely classmate) and work on strategies to make my life easier. This week, I’m going after mornings. Here are my plans:

1. Prepare everything the night before. Clothes, shoes, lunches, bags, drink bottles. Yes, know I always say I’m going to do this, but this time I mean it!

2. No checking Facebook before morning-tea time, after the kinder run.

3. Tell myself that kinder starts at 8:50am, not 9:00am.

4. Remember my iron and zinc tablets. This has nothing at all to do with the kinder run, but I figure I might as well do this if I’m remembering things.

Maybe if I get really good at this life coaching, I’ll become Super Capable. This could be the end of my endless blog post material! Or perhaps I could start a new, Aspirational Lifestyle Blog. Be like me! From Blooper to Gooper! I could design my own skincare range and everything.

Watch this space.



Post Script: So I took that wonderfully stylised picture at 9:05 this morning (don’t judge). We got to kinder late, and after I stood in the rain giving the twins hasty up-dos with hair-ties scavenged from the floor of the car, I realised in dismay that we had only one of the required two backpacks. The Star Wars backpack was neatly packed, with lunchbox, drink bottle, and a change of clothes. The only problem was, it was still inside my house. By the time we’d settled the twins, smiled apologetically at the kinder teacher, driven home, grabbed the errant bag, delivered it to kinder, and driven back home, it was 9:45am. I promise I’m not making this up.

I might have to wait until next week to be Super Capable. In the meantime, I need to take my iron tablet. I forgot yesterday.

7 thoughts on “Bloop

  1. kw06

    I just love reading your posts – reading anything you write actually.
    You bring joy.
    I must apologise, because some of the smiles and ‘laughs out loud’ are because of what you have to go through. You poor darling.
    Mornings should start after 10.00, after a few cups of tea and a little rest. Maybe after the lovely maid has come in to prepare breakfast and bath and get the children ready for their day….No I wouldn’t want that, but the cup of tea is an essential.
    I think you are amazing!
    It’s a shame the kinder doesn’t have an unlocked back door where you could just sneak in and pretend you’d been there for ages.
    Keep up your great work.

    Reply
  2. Lorella D'Cruz

    All I can say is, thank GOD my drop-offs to kinder days are over – a generation ago 😉 And I didn’t even have twins to get ready; but I did have a three-year-old and a four-year-old vying with each other to dislodge the halo sitting a trifle askew atop my patient brow. You manage beautifully though, Kate. And worry not; in three decades or so, you will be patronisingly smug as you advise your twins that they too will be all right – assuming, of course, that you yourself survive their intervening pre-teen and puberty blues unscathed. PS: Have your literary lovers kissed and made up, and moved on to more amorous manoeuvres?

    Reply
    1. katelikestocreate Post author

      So lovely to hear from you, Lorella (I could have sworn I wrote you a response weeks ago!). I’ve left my lovers alone for a bit now and am trying to tackle scenes where the whole group is together and all talking at once. Tricky!

      I hope you’re keeping safe and healthy in these strange times xxx

      Reply
  3. Meg Blair

    It has been a running joke in our house for years, that the reason we home-educate is that it’s easier than getting 4 children up, fed, dressed, etc. 5 days a week.

    Reply

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