Everyday is Saturday

Most of the time these days I’m sitting in my office thinking, ‘Is this Saturday?’ I have a 1-7 chance of being right but I’m at that point now where I don’t much care. It’s a day. Thank you to whoever arranges the sun to rise and whatever else you do because quite frankly, I’m writing and I don’t have time to do everything.


That’s about to change. In eleven days the Big Girls arrive from Brisbane. They’re on that flight that technically arrives at 2355 which means by the time they’ve left the plane and cleared immigration and customs, it’s closer to 1am. They now travel alone which is fun for us and batshit boring for them. Apparently there is a lot of sitting around waiting for ‘collection’ by whoever is charged with looking after them – and they have to sit in the back of the plane. Sometimes they’re with other kids but they never talk to them because, OMG, they might be weirdo’s. Or worse still, boys.  We get the updates via text. “Xanthe Anderson has checked in for Flight XXX” – “Sophie Anderson has checked in for Flight XXX” – ‘Ruby Anderson has checked in for … – you get the point. Then they board so we get another 3 messages. Then silence until the plane lands and you wake up to the ting ting ting of messages and groggily realize you should be out at the airport waiting because the pilot found a tailwind and arrived early. I once arrived as they were leaving the airport with their other grandparents. I didn’t even wonder if the rush was worth it because getting to squeeze the living daylights out of family member is always worth it. And the following week we get to do it for their parents.


The other crew (aka ‘The Wee Girls”) arrive on the 21st with, we sincerely hope, a full compliment of parents. There was a last minute flurry over a visa for their mother – suffice it to say when the child numbers rise, the occasional thing is sometimes overlooked, but we’re hopeful and have everything crossed. Chloe is now 4 and Chiara just learning to crawl. You know when they make it to the passenger lounge in Singapore fellow travellers are going to be eye rolling and finger crossing and all I have to say to them is ‘the power of continuous Peppa Pig and ‘Frozen’ is not to be overestimated.’ It won’t be like that in Bangkok. Their parents will have to prise them out of the arms of friendly strangers who think children are a gift – and possibly a way to board early.  I know it’s a long way to come but it would be nice if some of the long trip stays in Chloe’s memory so that next time I’m asked to come to her birthday party my excuse doesn’t bring out her sad face.

So it being Saturday everyday for a while, is fine with me. But this week I’ve got to shape up a bit with the lunch invite, the nephew and his wife staying for 2 days a trip out to the funeral home (don’t ask but it’s not me!), and the stress of ‘bring a plate’ to the gym morning tea. I think I’ll make that peanut butter thing with chocolate chips, and lots of icing sugar. It’s got oats in it.

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