Monday
Atlas has his bi-weekly occupational therapy appointment at Sensory Connections across town this morning, so I’ve told the boys’ mum I’ll drop them off on my way.
So I bribe them up to dressed in record time by promising them we’ll go for drive-thru (caffeine-free) frappuccinos and a snack, with a croissant for Atlas and a chocolate croissant and a latte for me. ($30)
Today’s therapy is a bit up and down, in that McKinley, Atlas’ therapist, breaks out their Hungry Hungry Hippos game, and chaos ensues. Atlas loves it. I might not have ever seen him love anything as much as he loves Hungry Hungry Hippos, despite having absolutely zero clue how to play it.
I guess there’s just something about those (hungry hungry) hippos that really draws him in, but he is elated, whooping and hollering (as they say) while bashing the hippos rather violently, but he loves it so much that, when it comes time to move on and play something else… it would be an understatement to say that it doesn’t go well.
Hippos are thrown (I would say “hurled” is probably a more accurate word) on the ground, he throws himself on the ground after them, feet and arms are flailing and he wails at the top of his lungs until, finally, McKinley convinces him that the hippos are hungry for something other than tiny balls (lol) and they bring two of the hippos in to the kitchen to fix them some lunch.
Still, it’s back to the hippos every chance he gets, and eventually I have to pick them up, pack them all away and hide them while his back his turned, and when he realises they’re gone he throws another little fit, although I must say, his fits are blessedly short-lived in general. Small but mighty. (And when he roars crying I almost always start tearing up myself; is this pregnancy or has my child made me into an extreme version of an empath?!)
He’s not happy when it’s time to leave, and even less happy when he realises he’s not being taken home to his own personal playground but instead being dropped to his babysitter’s playground, which, even now, over a year later, makes me feel so guilty… but here we are; I have work to do today so to the babysitter it is.
When I get home, I have a cup of tea with Mum and Dad and then take my laptop to the kitchen to do some work while they’re there, but I soon realise the error of my ways. I’m not great at concentrating on one task at the best of times, and having people around to chat with does not make that any easier, so I eventually go back up to the office and do the rest of my work there.
At 3pm, I head out to an appointment I have at HD Esthetics for a Brazilian wax. I got a facial there a few weeks ago, and then saw they were offering half-price Brazilians to anyone who’d had a facial in June, so decided to avail of the offer.
It is, hands down, the least painful wax I have ever had. I don’t know what, exactly, Haley, the esthetician and owner, does that’s different to anyone else, but I don’t flinch at all (not like me!) and it’s all done and dusted (literally) within about 15 minutes.
The regular price of a Brazilian is $60, so it’s $30 today, and I buy a facial moisturiser for $30-odd too, then stand at the counter for, honestly, way too long, trying to figure out what a 25% tip on a $60 service would be (it’s $15), add that to the $30, add the price of the moisturiser… and somewhere I fuck up and end up paying too much, but truly it doesn’t feel like too much because the service was so good. ($100)
I book in for my next appointment while I’m there. (Is it a sign that you feel at home somewhere once you find “your” wax place? “Your” nail place? “Your” hair place etc? I’ve only found one of those, but still… it feels nice.)
When I get home, as happens me every day at around 4pm, I am wiped; I go to pick Atlas up, and when Brandin and the boys get home we have a dinner I remember nothing about and I stay up way too late reading but I suppose…
Daily total: $130
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Anchor Baby to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.