The Weekend That Was.

It’s been one of those weekends.

The kind which was wall to wall happy people and places and also the kind where the start of the working week was possibly more restful than the days that preceded it.

Friday night after work saw us embrace the spirit of adventure and take a peak hour train into the city to meet my brother and his family who were visiting from Perth. The CBD was wall to wall people and it took some getting used to as we ordinarily only visit on Sunday afternoons or in that 2pm weekday lull you get in the retail and eating areas. But it was a happy crowd of workers celebrating the end of the week and families enjoying the warm evening and its daylight saving given light. The stores were all decked out for Christmas and Friday night was the first time this year that it didn’t all feel too early and commercial.

A quick walk through Myer’s Giftorium was followed by the cousins exchanging gifts before we shared a quick dinner.

Saturday morning was a gift. The dawn was just warm enough for running without an extra layer or long sleeves. Change was also in the air because I didn’t have an almond croissant or a sultana and custard snail for breakfast afterward. Readers, I had cinnamon fruit toast with peanut butter and honey instead. And it was delicious.

We went to the first of the weekend’s birthday parties for Preschooler SSG. The birthday girl was an especially close friend of Preschooler SSG with the pair forming a solid trio with another boy. It was a morning of art, dancing, fairy bread and the limbo. So pretty much a perfect morning for five and nearly five year olds.

I got festive for lunch with some craisins in my salad and in my Aldi chocolate. I’m trying my hardest to stick to my normal meals for as long as I can before it all goes on hiatus for Christmas / New Year / Preschooler SSG’s Birthday. I think I’m going to last another couple of weeks at best before dessert starts getting eaten three times a day and I add a scoop of vanilla ice cream to my mug of Moccona….

Until then, I’m on the champagne and sparkling weekend diet. I’m still not quite sure how I ended up with this stemless flute of Chandon and Orange Bitters on ice with a twist of orange rind in my hand while I raced around Woolies and after Preschooler SSG but I did and I’m glad I tried it because it’s going to be drink of the summer.

Both my brothers and all my nephews dropped by Saturday afternoon and we celebrated with a superior cheese board assembled at short notice from what I bought after our family Dan’s run. It’s all coming back to me. That’s how I got my tumbler of Chandon and Orange Bitters….

This was our star purchase and we enjoyed it over a leisurely afternoon in the backyard doing such things as making sure that there was fair access to the wheeled toys for all

as well as ensuring that board games were allowed to be played to the best of a person’s ability based on their age and not on the expectations of one pedantic nearly five year old.

It warms the heart and restores the sleep deprived soul watching your nephews play with the toys your own little one loved with all his heart once upon a time…

But it’s not the chief duty of the hostess aunty to get misty eyed and rose coloured Snapchat filtered about the past. No, her chief duty is to ensure the little ones are fed before witching hour.

Preferably with a dish that both young and old will enjoy because it can take until adult dinnertime to feed a two-year-old. Noodles, it was then. My first attempt at making Malaysian style fried mee hoon (vermicelli) from scratch, to be precise. The trick when frying fine noodles like this is to pre-soak in cold water for 5 or so minutes, drain and then place in a bowl to which you add your sauce ingredients. This way, the noodles get evenly coated before they get fried.

If your youngest guests quietly dig in with both hands and cutlery before wearing your noodles as a kind of mustache then you know those noodles tasted good.

Sunday lived up to its name in magnificent fashion.

That sky was all it took to convince me to dust off this beach casual shirt dress. Or at least it was a dress that one time I tried it on the J Crew outlet a couple of years back. Commonsense prevailed and I slipped on a pair of white skinnies before we left the house.

We were off to our second fifth birthday of the weekend.

The theme was science and I was amazed at how engaged all the preschoolers were with their teacher for the afternoon. Each child listened, followed the instructions, waited their turn and had so much fun in the process.

Unmeltable snow was made, as was red slime and various empty plastic water bottles were rocketed up into the air, over the fence, onto the roof or into the food table… using nothing but water, bicycle tyre pumps and lots of preschooler energy.

And then science got both delicious and dramatic as vanilla ice cream was made in front of us in a matter of minutes.

There was plenty for everyone.

Silence descended on the party as cones of ice cream were devoured.

There are weekends like this that I wish could just last forever. The weather, that languid feeling of it being so nearly the end of the year, family, friends old and new, the laughter, the precious moments and that strange but not unpleasant feeling of being more connected to the rest of Sydney than I ever thought I’d be. Six degrees of separation? At times, it feels more like two at the most. And in the most unexpected ways as well.

How long did it take you to suddenly find yourself more connected to your adopted city or town? Did you find children played a big role in forging your connections?

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