Diary of a (not quite) Single Parent – Weeks 3/4

3 August 2016

It’s an actual working office in Carlton but as I’m a bit pushed for time this week my only chance of getting anything remotely resembling a blog written is in-between scenes.

Between piano lessons, dance classes, play dates, gymnastics, work meetings, school and kinder pick-ups and drop offs, writing deadlines and filming days, the juggling act has gone into overdrive and it’s been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster since we’ve returned from visiting my husband in Sydney. The girls are missing their dad (as is their mum), I’m helping out a close friend of mine who is going through a hellish marriage break-up, and the day we arrived back in Melbourne I was told that channel ten’s morning show, The Circle, had been axed.

I was lucky enough to have worked on this wonderful show as a semi-regular guest host this year and so was invited to take part in the final episode. There were tears of sadness and frustration and hugs once we were off air as everyone tried to come to terms with what had happened. I saw the folder containing thousands of emails from broken-hearted viewers that the show was ending, I heard all the stories and rumours of why this has actually happened but at the end of it all its about good people losing good jobs unnecessarily.

On the days I’m not working with other human adults I’ve taken to adopting the “I couldn’t give a damn how I look” look. The extreme cold snap that Melbourne experienced last week certainly isn’t helping my fashion care factor. One day’s outfit comprised of tracksuit pants, Ugg boots, my husband’s huge dark green “Eskimo-style” winter jacket and a woollen beanie. That was the day I stood at the bottom of the hill at Finn’s school waiting to pick her up, waving at her and her friend who were at the top of the hill. When Finn saw me she grabbed her friend, whispered something and took a few steps backwards. Apparently Finn had said, “Why is that creepy man down there waving at me?”

Needless to say, there has been zero time for any self-grooming, something that I am in serious need of, especially in the waxing department. Seriously. I caught sight of myself getting out of the shower yesterday and I thought Robin Williams had broken into my bathroom.

Probably the saddest moment of the week though was when something very close to my heart passed away at only seven months old. My vacuum cleaner was – or so I understood it – in the prime of its life when it died midweek. To those of you who don’t know me you may be wondering why this is noteworthy at all and thinking I’m a bit of a freak to be sad about it. I’ve no doubt there are many women who would celebrate such an event.  For those who do know me, and have no doubt that I am a freak, you are probably wondering how I didn’t go into a full panic attack after such an event. I’m basically Monica Geller-esque when it comes to cleaning and my love for it. When I told my husband that the vacuum had died, he helpfully suggested that I do a bit of online research on what brand to buy next, adding that it would be akin to porn for me.

The girls are climbing into bed with me on a nightly basis, the pros of this being that they keep me warm in my husband’s absence as I snuggle up to their fiery little bodies, the cons being that I get much less sleep.

The other morning Finn snuggled up to me and relayed her dream where “I wished I started my life again and it happened. I wanted to be a baby again because babies get to roam around and get away with most things. I was the smartest baby in the world because the dream didn’t erase my memories when I started my life again and my first word was eyeball.”

And with that, my day had begun.

My husband is currently in Perth, where his show is opening, staying with dear friends of ours who have two daughters – a four year old and a one year old. He admitted that after living alone for the past three weeks he is loving being part of a family unit again, having small children running around and drawing pictures for him. Is it wrong to confess to a small stab of contentment when I think about the fact that for the next two weeks my husband will awaken to the sounds of children running and squealing the house down at an ungodly hour of the morning? Either way, I’m glad that he is safe and content in the bosom of a loving family for the time being.

Now…time to go buy those razors…

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