On Saturday I went out by myself. Well, with Buttsy but without my tiny humans. On Saturday morning I kissed them goodbye and headed off into a bright new day and, eventually, Melbourne.
The first port of call was Bendigo to meet up with Butts (I saw a thing on the internet the other day that was something along the lines of ‘do you have a friend who you call by their nickname so often you forget their real name?’ – yep – that’s Buttsy for me!) so she could guide me along the way of the Myki. This new fangled technology is a bit above me these days although I was pleased to find an old Myki card in a container of household flotsam and jetsam and even more pleased that it still had $10 on it! We decided we’d slummed it on public transport for long enough so took the first available taxi to what is affectionately known as ‘The City Residence’ – The Hotel Windsor. I know it makes me sound like a jerk, but it’s so nice to go somewhere they know your name and it’s even better to be made to feel like a VIP, even if you’re just a bumpkin from the country.
By this stage I was starting to feel as though I had cut off my right arm – I’d never been this far away from the boys or away this long. My boobs were also starting to feel it because even though when questioned I claim to only feed them a few times a day, the reality is, it’s their favourite past time. Paddy is especially fond of sitting on the couch, drinking, watching The Wiggles and occasionally having a nibble on some raisin bread. But I had no time to think of such things because there was beer to be drunk and brides to be watched as they got out of their stretch limos/hummers/vintage cars and lined up to have amazing ‘one of a kind’ style photos taken along Spring Street. One poor bride had her bracelet caught in her veil and didn’t seem to have any attendants. Her husband had walked off on her (although he was holding her flowers in his pocket) and the photographer was making her stand in the middle of the tram tracks. I hope it wasn’t a sign of things to come. Metaphorically speaking.
After getting titivated up we set sail for The Athenaeum Theatre – after clicking it into Google we knew it was about an eleven minute walk. We found The Athenaeum Theatre Library or something along those lines and thought we were close. We did expect there to be a sign out the front – there wasn’t but there were people starting to mill about. We checked the map again and were pretty sure we had arrived. So we joined the crowd, got some champagne in a plastic cup and waited. As we waited Chrissie Swan swanned past us. She didn’t really – she just casually walked past us like a normal person on her way backstage.
We could not possibly have had better seats – second row, centre. We could feel the spittle of the performers on our face and it was glorious. One after the other, out they came and slated us with their wit. We were literally LOL-ing and if we had more room, we probably would have been ROFL-ing.
And then we hightailed it home to bed. Before midnight. Rewind a few years and I would have been mortified at the thought. I’d be looking for the next pub, beer and good time or at least trying to find the stage door to tell everyone just how much I loved them. I’d be horrified to think I might not be stumbling in at about 3am and that I’d be stone cold sober. I loved the night life, I loved to boogie (after a few beers) and I loved the whole experience of being out with so many different souls and you never knew who you might meet – but that’s another story for another time. However this night was different. Once we got back to our digs, I took out the manual breast pump and pumped away. I’m lucky that Buttsy is such an excellent friend that me sitting up in our room expressing milk was completely fine and fitted our new kind of normal. Once I chucked it down the sink (me a year ago would have had a panic attack about disposing of so much liquid gold). Apart from me rubbing Buttsy’s head during the middle of the night because I thought she was one of the boys (we had a twin bed configuration but they were pretty close together) the rest of the night was quite uneventful but spent in a delightful sleep – past 6am!
And what of the boys and Shane? Well apparently it was a breeze. He said he hated to tell me that they’d slept in to 8am and he was up and showered and sorted the washing. I don’t think he hated to tell me. He even suggested that I stay away for another few nights so that we could wean them cold turkey. My aching boobs and I decided against it. When I got home I found the griddle pan on the front verandah so I’m not entirely sure that the weekend was as smooth sailing as he suggested. And that makes me a little bit happy. Sometimes my days are hectic, but not yet pan on the verandah hectic.