We did a family trip to Toronto this summer to take the kids to the zoo, amongst other things. The zoo was great. We were there for over 5 hours and only did the Africa section. So I guess we have to go back every year to get the whole place seen eventually. On the last day we were in Toronto, Alex had a work show to attend, which was at a conference centre by the waterfront. After playing in a lovely park (with live music!) all morning we went to pick up Alex. In the parking lot I handed my 3 year old a sandwich and then a fruit pouch to my little guy. This was a fucking mistake because we started getting swarmed by wasps immediately. So I grabbed the baby and took him into the front seat and breastfed him instead. Alex was trying to assist the older one with the sandwich and trying to get him into his car seat, but the wasps were on a fucking mission. After several attempts of getting him into his car seat while holding a sandwich, several wasps entered the car and with that, Alex grabbed the sandwich and launched it about 20 feet away where a million seagulls descended onto it. At this point I was exiting the car with the babe screaming because there are wasps in the car and what seemed like a thousand seagulls hurdling towards us. My oldest is also crying because Dad just ripped his sandwich away from him and threw it like a deli psychopath. And as we are all screaming and racing around the car trying to get the wasps out and the kids back in, I realize that I got out of the car while breastfeeding and the baby had since detached so I am also running around screaming with a tit out. Needless to say, I prayed one of my partner’s work colleagues had just casually gone to their car and maybe stopped to record the whole thing because I can only imagine how hysterical the scene was. We finally did get everyone in and assumed we got the wasps out and then spent the next 30 mins leaving Toronto while explaining to my traumatized crying 3 year old why his sandwich was confiscated so aggressively and why he couldn’t eat it. We often talk about Waspocalypse and if we are in a park and a snack comes out and if there is even a hint of a wasp, snacks and park are fucking done. Occasionally and randomly my oldest guy will just come out of the blue and say, remember that time Dad threw my sandwich? It has stuck with him. 

My littlest guy has some rough periods because he is is teething and the big teeth are coming in. One night he was really wound up and upset and I told my partner I was just going to take him up and put him in a bubble bath with some calm music and dim lights. My partner looked and me and said, he’s not a middle aged white woman dude, he’s a baby. Point taken, but it’s not like I offered him a glass of chilled pinot grigio. Anyways, he obvs has the spirit of a middle aged woman because the bubble bath and calm music did the trick.

So with the baby having terrible sleeps, so am I. I have returned to work which, you know, had to happen unfortunately. My first week back I was chatting with some people that I had vaguely known before going on mat leave and within 5 minutes I was talking about child birth, postpartum and then directly into peri-menopause. Like, Jesus Christ. I literally don’t know this person’s last name but we are in a conversation where she asked me if my delivery was vaginal, so here we are. I hear you lose your filter completely as you age but if I never had one I worry about how wild I may get in everyday conversations. I started on a new team at work, of all men. On my first day I introduced myself as a 41 year old with 2 babies, unmedicated ADHD sliding into peri-menopause, extremely sleep deprived and with a brain like a sieve and thought, maybe this was a bit much. 

Anyways, my partner now yells BINGO every time I talk about peri-menopause (even to complete strangers) to highlight that I now mention it daily because IT IS A BIG DEAL everyone. We must constantly bring up Cougar Puberty to everyone to normalize how fucking insane it is! I am so brain dead these days that my phone was next to a chicken breast I had just just cooked on the kitchen counter and I tapped the chicken breast to check the time and thought, whoops, I think it might be time to put me down. I think that’s me calling it. Just tried to open the screen of a chicken breast. Good night everybody, its been great. 

My littlest guy is really into music. He is always touching (ruining) my vinyl collection and cds. The only thing that calms him down is Abbey Road by the Beatles. This is his emotional support album. His bedtime lullaby is Golden Slumbers. Anyhoo, we were playing at the water table outside the other day and the giant air conditioning unit whirled on and he went over and stood next to it and started dancing and I was like that’s right little one, find the beat, even when it’s just an air conditioner. Find that beat.  

My 3 year old has a wild vocabulary. I know everyone says this about their kids but sometimes the things he says are wild. And his self awareness! Because he loves Thomas, when he gets REALLY mad at you, he will scream at you to go BACK TO YOUR SHED! Which is hard to hear without laughing hysterically because, like, what? Anyways, awhile back he was screaming this and then he stopped and looked at me and said, I know I am being ridiculous and then just walked away. I mean totally correct but like wow. He circled back a little while later to tell me “that he was not pleased with himself” and I wondered where this little old man came from. 

Last week my oldest walked into the back office and started to close the door and muttered “fucking people,” and I have never felt so on his wavelength than at that exact moment. Yeah man, fucking people. 

Last year I made a goal to learn how to make lasagna. It is now in my regular food rotation of the same boring foods I make. I made one this week and Alex said, you have really perfected your lasagna! And I told him that the key is twice the sauce and twice the meat and Alex replied, that totally summarizes how you’ve lived your life! I had to think about it for 3 seconds and then was like, wow, correct. Nailed it.

I am completely obsessed with the new Lily Allen album. I was showing Alex how many downloads Pussy Palace had and I was like, look! Almost 9000! And then I looked at it and was like, no that’s not right. It’s 900,000! And Alex goes, that is also incorrect. I put my phone down and announced I know longer knew how numbers worked. Is it 9 million? Alex nodded. Embarrassed by my total idiocy I just immediately started singing Pussy Palace loudly hoping the fun lyrics would take away from the fact I forgot what numbers were. We started watched Stranger Things and of course the Lily Allen album is about David Harbour (the cop in it) cheating on her. In the first episode he descends into an underground tunnel and I yelled out, Oh Look! David Harbour needing to investigate yet another hole! Christ!! 

Guyssss!!! I went to my first concert in one million years! Seriously, I went from COVID into hibernating with my babies and offering round the clock tit service to them. So I had not left the house at night in forever. I was so excited and scared and nervous frankly. What would the world be like without me in my pyjamas at 6:30 pm in the evening? Could I survive without a blanket and 1.5 litre water bottle by my side at that time of day? Would I have to pee every 20 mins at the concert like I do at home? Will I walk in and give myself the limit of 2 drinks and then drink 5? So much to think about! I was pleasantly surprised to see there was no line up because I am for sure at the point where my patience, nor my bladder, can deal with a line. I went straight to the bar and asked on a level of 1-10, how shitty was their white wine and the bartenders pained face said it all. I replied great, I will have a glass of that mixed with whatever juice mix is in that bottle back there. He said its pineapple lime or some shit and I said perfect. Whenever I reordered, he saw me coming and said – wine cocktail! That is correct sir and keep them coming! I was, as I always am, shocked at how my 90s rock idols have aged. I was there with one of my best friends Rob and my brother Ben. Rob said I Mother Earth looked and sounded liked someone’s Dad’s garage band who got out of the house for the night (harsh but not totally off). And Matthew Good, aww Matt. We go back so far. He was hunched a bit like Mr. Burns and moved like someone who was just tipping from adult hood into their elderly years. I had earlier in the night made a colourful comment about still wanting to have sexual relations with Matt Good and I was rethinking this statement aggressively. It might feel a bit too much like a trip to a nursing home. Anyways, regardless of the geriatric rock stars, I danced, head banged and sang at the top of my lungs for the entire show. Mind you, I did not jump because I did learn that my pelvic floor will no longer support me doing this. Both Rob and Ben said that my dancing and singing and being in my element was worth the price of admission, which was the sweetest thing I had ever heard. I took about 300 bathroom breaks, drank too many weird wine cocktails and had the best time ever. It took me over 3 days to recover but that’s just partying in your 40s babyyyyy. Fucking worth it every once in awhile!