Did you have a happy fathers day? Ours began with the usual. The night before, the boys came to me in a panic asking what "have we got Dad"? I showed them what I, the fascilitator of all occassions success or failure, had bought. Actually what their father had bought as he'd been totally indecisive with me about what he fancied for fathers day and I'd got fed up with it and announced he'd get diddly squat. Hmm.
I showed them the shirts, wrapped them because they were busy freaking out over their identical drawings on their hand made cards, and organised a hiding spot. They decided my hiding spot was not up to scratch and, when I wasnt looking, moved it to a better one.
On Sunday we woke to no Daddy. He had raced off to the airport because his parents needed to catch their flight back to melbourne. A bowling tournament commitment I believe.
While he was gone, Henry and I went crazy making crepes, caramelising strawberries and bananas to go with the crepes and decorating the kitchen table. Oliver sauntered out in time to greet Ashleigh and dig in to his breakfast.
There is something I'm not doing right isnt there? Somewhere along the line between toddlers who love to dust and make beds to practically adolescents who step out of their knickers and walk away, the wheels have fallen off. Crashed into the gutter leaving the house proud in feotal position by the side of the road,wine in hand.
Oliver turned nine on Friday. He did so without one single gift handmade by me. Now there is a slippery slope if ever I felt one.
I think the entire restaurant singing 'Happy Birthday' to him and his local football team dining at the next table was the best gift he could have had though.
He seems taller. I bought him size ten pajamas from Boden and they fit him. I couldnt believe it.
Sunday we got dressed up and went off to Rozelle for some family photos. This is something we have been meaning to do since Henry was a baby. I imagine being married to a cinematographer/photgrapher is not unlike being married to a builder or landscape gardener. Your own is never done.
Well tripod in hand and Ashleigh in shoot mode, we stood and posed and turned and froze and sat and stood and looked this way and that. We dont quite have the shot I wanted and we certainly dont have enough with him in them, but there was only so many times he was going to focus, set the timer and run to us.
But it went well.
Until I realised that there was not one shot of Ashleigh with his three boys and he should have told me to put my feet together. Nothing is ever perfect though is it?
I think we do perfectly well being not remotely perfect. Somehow it fits.