#banished to the kiddie table

[dekuboya]

banished to the jojo family kiddie table

[hazbinshusk]

ADORE the way you write 🥰

Could I request AFAB!Reader with Husk. Reader takes their coffee/cocktails very sweet and sugary a stark contrast to Husk’s bitter tastes. LOVE the Grumpy x Sunshine trope 🙈💕

combining this one with an anon request for... prompt #18: a kiss while laughing.

“The fuck,” Husk sighs as you retake your seat beside him and slide two glasses across the tabletop. Despite his tone, he wraps a wing around you automatically. “…is that?”

“Whiskey.”

The cat gives you a well-practiced look of exasperation that makes you giggle. The sound of it teases his senses in a way that makes the jaded bartender smile affectionately, his wing tightening around you to draw you closer to his side. Even in the blaringly loud club you’d both been dragged to he was happy enough to claim a moment of intimacy between the two of you.

You’d found a table in the back corner of the bar, and while he was more than happy to see you enjoying the night each time Cherri or Angel dragged you away from him, each time you came back to him made his heart wonderfully light. And it amazingly had very little to do with the whiskey you brought with you.

“Smartass.”

“You love it,” you reply, smile widening as you feel his lips brush the corner of your jaw. You turn your head to catch his lips with yours, tasting the sweet burn of booze on his lips. “Now, what were you complaining about?”

Husk hums a gruff laugh against the side of your neck as you turn back to the table, his lips touching the side of your throat before he does the same. He waves a hand towards the table in front of you. “Your fuckin’ drink is glowin’.”

You scoff, picking up and taking a sip of your cocktail pointedly. Its pinkish color is bright under the shifting overhead lights, and its flavor bursts on your tongue. “It’s a Hurricane, Husk.”

“Christ,” he eye-rolls, smiling despite himself when you giggle again. “’s a crime against booze.”

“I’ve seen you drink what’s basically a step above paint stripper,” you point out tauntingly. “And now you’ve got standards about what gets you drunk?”

“Can you even get drunk on shit like that?” he shoots back snidely. “Looks like a fuckin’ kiddie drink.”

You shrug, still smiling teasingly. “Well, it’s got like… four different kinds of booze in it. You should try it.”

“I’ll pass.”

Your smile widens, and you slide the glass towards him. “Go on, baby. Thought you liked to gamble.”

He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head despite the smirk he can’t keep from his lips. “Think you’re dangerous, don’t ya?”

“Sometimes.”

Still, he picks up the glass and, forgoing the straw, downs half of it. He grimaces immediately, a shiver wracking through him as he sticks out his tongue in disgust.

“Fuck!”

You laugh aloud, rescuing your drink from his hand. Husk groans, grabbing for his own drink. He tips it back, eager to banish the sweetness from his tastebuds, only to find it empty. Your laughter doubles, the whiskey still burning on your tongue.

“Cheeky little—” Husk curls the claws of one hand around the side of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth. Surprised, your laughter dies and you moan into it, your own hands coming up to grip at the fur of his chest. Husk growls at the feeling of it, leaning into you further, pushing you back against the booth.

You giggle, breaking away from his lips. Your hands ease on his fur, soothing over his chest and up over his shoulders. His wings curl around the two of you as best they can between the booth and the table. “You like it that much, huh?”

“Fuckin’ awful,” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Needed somethin’ to get the taste outta my mouth.”

“Oh, really?” you say, faking offense. You make move to push him away and slide out of his reach. “Well, if that’s the case…”

You’re laughing again as Husk grabs hold of you and drags you back to him, using his grip on your arm to lead it up around his neck. His mouth meets yours, and he speaks against your lips. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, doll. ‘m not finished with you yet.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

7 8 10

Ahhh the joys of reblogging multiple ask games with numbered questions within a day and not being able to tell which one is the current subject <3 (this just means you're getting the answers to six questions instead of three! Plus I'm bored and I don't mind lol)

7. Share a line or paragraph that you don't think will ever actually be posted in anything! (Or, if you don't hoard cut sentences and paragraphs like I do, share anything you want that has yet to see the light of day!)

Prefacing this by saying I know that Jake is implicitly an only child in canon. Counter argument, shut up /j oldest child syndrome made worse by absent parents. My defense:

Alana kept her voice as level as she could, despite her frustration. "Can you be an adult for just a couple minutes, please?"

A fist hit the table. "I've had to be the adult since I was thirteen!"

Alana startled at the harsh constriction in Jake's voice, his once casual and flippant demeanor turning so fast that it just about gave her whiplash.

A mirthless laugh choked Jake as he threw a hand out. "Criminal parents fucking off to who knows where all the time meant that someone needed to grow up! Someone needed to be responsible and make sure that the kids were happy and safe! And sometimes-"

His voice wavered, breath shaking as he looked off at the wall instead of at Alana.

"Maybe sometimes I just wanna be a kid. Get excited about Kiddie Land. Go down a Giant Slide. Just," he gave a hopeless shrug, "pretend things aren't so fucked up, at least for a little while. Long enough to not... burn out on being the adult, right when I really need to be."

—Tales From the Lagniappe

This is really rough atm but hopefully it gets the point across dbdjebdh

8. Is there a story idea that you would love if it could appear fully realized but that you do not think you'll ever write yourself?

Halo au would be fun. I say, as if I have a real Story in mind for it besides a couple scenes and Vibes lmao. I have so many Concept stories that I just never actually touch in any meaningful way, hell it's a miracle if I ever doodle anything for them.

10. If you could banish a single trope to live at the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen by any human eyes (or at least your own), which trope would that be?

The simple fact that I don't know by virtue of not reading super often goes to show that I don't feel strong negative emotions about any particular trope (and that im not adventurous lmao /hj.) Anything can be executed beautifully or terribly.

I once criticized coffee shop and adjacent aus for being nothing burgers by (generally, i can think of at least one exception) ending after character A gives B their number, but like? I don't have enough vitriol to cast such aus into the ocean lol, they can stay

7. A fic of yours you think is underrated?

Besides my 4 year old coping-with-quarantine project that spiraled into almost 330k words of length and became So Personal, probably Joyride. I blame its lack of attention on the fact that I just shat out a one-sentence summary and assumed that would be enough for those that had already read Weakness lol (hi becca)

8. What's the best summary you've come up with?

The fact that the L2C summary was so long that it wouldn't fit into ao3's character limit (but that it wasn't long enough/was too summarizey to be its own chapter or part of the prologue) and had to be broken into the summary and beginning notes goes to show how much I cared about making it Perfect™️ lol

10. Do you read your own fics for fun?

Not super often but yeah! Usually as a post-upload riding the high ya know? Swallow Up Your Heart of Gold actually keeps popping into my brain and I gotta get a hit of that sweet sweet hurt/comfort <3

In fact I would often reread rps that a friend and I did so get that same hit

I'm lonely and touch starved I bet you couldn't tell

[pyotrkochetkov]

happy thanksgiving to everyone except mat barzal bc what the fuck is his hair

they may have won but he…he lost

banished to the kiddie table!!!!!

[goremeat]

proshippers are so funny when they're like oh antis are using conservative right-wing talking points, when they, themselves, are using the fucking exact same rhetoric but replacing fanfic and shipping in the place of gun control and free speech.

they both need to be banished to the kiddy table!!

[fandomohana]

I was trying to fall asleep around 3:15, ended up sobbing. I can't remember the exact time, but I know my dad left us in the wee hours. I was in the chair next to him, and I know there was a clock over his head, but my brain wasn't focused on that. All it remembers is the dark sky outside. My brain tried to take me back to that hospital room. To relive every single agonizing moment. The phone ringing after I'd gone to bed. Waiting on the porch for my 30 minute ride to the hospital. Every time I jolted awake from a doze to make sure he was still with us.

It was a bit uncomfortable in my room last night, too warm for me. I had started reminding myself of the cold late swim season mornings. When the college we practiced at wouldn't turn on the heater to the pool in the morning because their team's season hadn't started yet. It was so cold, we would climb out for hot showers. I went there before my brain tried to pull me back to the hospital.

I was able to pull free by remembering that pool, the water taking my breath away, the feel of the tiles under my feet, the plastic lane lines, and how each plastic ring would spin in the water. I remembered the diving blocks, they were blue with black and white numbering, I remembered the coarse grip tape on top of the diving blocks, how it scratched my feet. I felt the soft, worn foam of the kick boards, the little alcove with the kiddie pool, the office to the side, and the course coated diving board.

I turned on my tea light night light, the last thing my dad gave me, from when he was in the hospital. The light that I turned on every night that I was alone in the house, until that night ten years ago. I always turn it on when I'm hurting, or when I'm away from home, I feel my dad in it. With my safety light, the projector in my room making watery waves across my ceiling, and memories of the pool, I finally banished the hospital, and fell asleep. I miss you, Fatboy.

This isn't my bedroom, it's a picture of the night stand at a bed and breakfast we stayed in. I'm too lazy to go back upstairs right now to take a picture of the candle itself. I keep these three items on my side table, and travel with them, they represent the people I've lost. My grandma's virgin Mary statue, a happy Buddha my second parents gave me, he has since passed away, and the candle from my dad.

I don't have a ton of pictures of both of us as I got older, but here are some.

[buginateacup]

Australian Advent Prompt list

I saw a list of Xmas advent fic prompts going around and decided we needed a southern hemisphere version...

1. I'm a lowly retail worker who therefore loathes Xmas songs with a passion. You're a customer who came in glowing about the songs the shop forces us to play and caught my vile rant and you know what? No I don't give a shit. Report me all you like I do not care anymore. I have no soul left...wait why are you back? Why are you handing me a JB HIFI bag?... Did you just buy me a pair of noise cancelling earbuds?

2. Its forty fucking degrees why are we doing a roast?

3. What do you mean you aren't at the airport picking up (insert family member here) they just flew back from London!

4. It's your first Xmas in Australia and you're missing your family so you wore your ugly christmas jumper but you fainted because its forty fucking degrees you idiot!

5. Okay so we have six salads, the barbie is on, five desserts and who got the prawns...what do you mean no one?

6. That is not how to make gravy

7. Its 42 degrees and you fainted why are you wearing a full santa suit you idiot? Oh you're meant to be riding on the back of the fire truck for the Surf Livesaving Club christmas party? Okay shit hold ok I'll get you some water

8. You're my neighbour and its 3am and you've been trying to put that swingset together for four hours just let me help so we can both go to bed

9. We have four slabs of beer, a dozen bottles of sparking, an obscene amount of softdrink, six eskies and no ice.

10. You're drunk on your way home from your work christmas party and decided to go for a swim. I'm the poor idiot trying to stop you from drowning

11. You said the wrong thing to the wrong great aunt and got us both banished to the kiddie table...jokes on them we’ve got the hose and a tarp and we're gonna build a slip and slide

12. We don’t have mistletoe here so you wrote MITSLETOW in texta on the Goon of Fortune bag and its devolving into some kind of cthulian nightmare version of spin the bottle/truth or dare

13. The aunt that's hosting the family party the Sunday before christmas is on one of her weird food kicks again so we both snuck off to Bunnings for a sausage

14. The Cool Change.

15. Peppermint crisp vs Passionfruit on top of a pavlova. Fight!

16. We came though the drive-thru bottle-O to get ice on our way to Xmas day lunch with our extended family but you're really bored and forgot your lunch so we're bringing you with us/bringing you back a plate.

17. Its another three hours to get to Xmas lunch with the fam and we just hit a kangaroo. The roo is fine. The car is not.

18. We've been ordered to evacuate due to bushfires but the roads are cut off so we're going to wait on the beach instead.

19. Christmas on the beach.

20. We're both from the same small country town and wound up driving the 14 hours back from Sydney together even though we barely spoke in secondary school.

21. Food coma naps under the trampoline while the little cousins have a water fight

22. I told you it was a seven hour drive, its not that long, why are you whingeing?

23. Is it just me or are winter christmas songs really weird?

24. Really weird backyard cricket Xmas rules

25. You're an Australian expat in (insert northern hemisphere location) and someone put on White Wine in the Sun as a joke but now you're crying on the bar and okay I guess I'm making you a last minute Australian Christmas even though its minus forty and we haven't seen the sun in weeks.

[mushymooshi]

Connor on littol chair, banished to the kiddie table

[fatandnerdy30]

Little Orphan Spider 11

Natasha reclined in the hallway against the wall, picking her nails with her knife, her gaze focused on the boy who was crawling on the ceiling. At first she was a little freaked out seeing that, but she let it go for now. "I thought it was you fighting Mr. Li yesterday, but I couldn't be sure until now."

Peter's eyes were wide as he stared at the woman, panic blowing his pupils wide. "Pl-please," he began. "Please don't tell Mr. Stark!" He was shaking now, and the woman felt bad. "And why would I?" she asked, raising a brow. "I like knowing something he doesn't, makes me feel like he does, superior." She kicked off the wall and stood beneath the boy who's eyes followed her. "Why don't we step into my office and have a little talk," she said with a slight smirk, opening the door to her left. The teen sigh and nodded, moving into the room via the ceiling until he was in, lowering himself to the floor as Natasha closed the door. "You know that's very dangerous and stupid thing for you to do? Sneaking into the one person's lab who you don't want to be discovered by. And stealing his things," she added with a look to the netted bag. "I had to go and see what he was doing to my suit," Peter whined. "He destroyed it! Ripped it apart! So, as payback, I thought I would take a few things from his lab in order to make a new one." Natasha had to smile. The kid had balls, she could admit that. "What kind of suit are you making?" she asked. "Well, a little like my old one, with a few upgrades, I guess. Maybe working on the eyes..." The boy shrugged, scuffing his foot on the floor. The woman chuckled. "I would say yes to that. Now, how do you crawl on walls?" She grabbed Peter's hands, her fingers feeling every fingertip, trying to peel off tape or adhesive. "I don't have anything on me....About seven months ago, on a trip to Osborne labs, I was bit by a spider that had been near radioactive material, making the spider radioactive as well....and well, that caused me." He tried to tug his hands away, but Ms. Romanoff held tight. "So, you're telling me, you got bit by a magic bug?" She laughed at that. "And what about dodging things seconds before they hit you?" "That one's a little harder to explain....It's new to me too...along with super strength and flexibility, I'm developing a, well a sixth sense, I guess....Like I said, it's a new power. I don't understand it, but it's kind of like, my skin tingles and my brain reacts even before I think about it and I'm able to dodge things like bullets, arrows...but it's only when my life is in danger, I think." He looked up through his hair at Ms. Romanoff's face. "Okay, that I can see. But, you need some training if you want to play with the adults," she said, letting go of Peter's hand, but it stuck to her. "Um..." she looked at their attached hands. "Oh! Sorry, it does that when I'm nervous...." he shook his hand free. "Training? Like target practice or something?" "Nope. Hand to hand, defensive and offensive. Your aim is pretty good." She went to her closet door, pulling out dresses left and right, before pulling out two gowns; one of a red material and one of a blue. "I can tell you idolize Steve by the colors of your suit. I'm not using these for anything anymore, and the material is very strong, made for protection. I'm sure you can add to that. Let me know what you need from the labs and I'll see if I can get them." Peter touched the dresses, feeling the silky material under his hand, then grabbed it and pulled. Even with all his strength it didn't rip. Impressive. He stuffed both dresses into his bag. "Thank you, but...why are you doing this? Haven't I caused you nothing but trouble?" "Yes, you have, but you also saved people, people who are important to me, so I owe you a few. Not telling Tony is just a perk." She smiled when the boy laughed, going to her door and opening it. "Now, get outta here, kid. You're supposed to be punished." Peter smirked and ran out of her room to the elevator, Friday already reprimanding him for crawling on the ceiling, the boy making a face when he tried to shush her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Monday morning came and Peter was roused for school by an annoying Irish woman, calling for him to wake. The boy rolled over, moaning out his no and burrowed into his blankets. He'd stayed up late last night, working on the wiring for his new suit, finally crashing three hours ago. "Peter, I have been told to wake you for school, and if you do not wake, boss will come in and he will not be happy." At the mention of Mr. Stark, Peter jumped and looked over to his desk, which had scraps of Natasha's dresses on it along with wiring and tools he's stolen. "Okay, okay, I'm up!" he called and rolled out of bed, yawning and stretching. He started putting the things on his dresser away, when there was a knock on the door. "Peter?" Pepper called, waiting a moment. "Y-yeah?" the boy answered, hurrying with his desk's cleanup, shoving things in drawers. "Just making sure you were really up. Friday said you were, but I wanted to make sure." She frowned when she heard a thud followed by a yelp. "Peter?" she opened the door and gasped, averting her eyes as she saw the teen in his boxers. "Sorry! Sorry! I'm leaving!" she all but slammed the door and walked away quickly. The boy was horrified and got dressed quicker than he ever had. and quickly ran into his bedroom to check his face for bruises. Thank goodness for his advanced healing, because after the weekend he'd had with Ms. Romanoff, he was so bruised he'd stayed in his room all weekend, now glad for his punishment. Timidly he walked out into the kitchen, seeing Pepper blushing, but trying to act as if nothing happened. "G'morning," he said to the group of people at the table. "Oh, good morning, troublemaker." Clint smirked, sipping his coffee. "I heard we had a runaway." The boy scowled. "It wasn't like that," he argued, and the archer raised an eyebrow at the doorway, where a very irate Tony Stark now stood. "Nu-uh, you don't get to argue with the adults. Now you're banished to the kiddy table, go." He pointed to the bar stools along the island and made a shooing motion with his hands. Peter fought his urge to roll his eyes and went to the table. He heard someone get up and Clint suddenly sat next to him, pushing waffles at him. "We've also got hazelnut spread." he offered as a peace treaty for getting the boy into more trouble. Peter smiled and took a waffle. "No thanks, this is fine. Thanks." His senses told him to duck the hand, but Peter didn't, making a sound when the man ruffled his curls. "Come on, man...I had these perfect." He tried fixing his hair with Clint giggling next to him. "Okay, school time," Tony said, grabbing his keys and the boy ran back to his room to grab his bag, making sure he had his homework. When he ran back into the kitchen, he stopped, looking at Mr. Stark who was waiting for him, keys in his hand. "Well? Are we going or not?" "Wait, I'm confused...are-are you driving me? To school?" The man rolled his eyes. "Yes, oh smart child. Come on, don't want to be late." Last night Pepper had suggested Tony drive him to school as a way to 'bond' with the teen. He had a feeling that Pepper was going to beg him to let Peter stay longer than the two months, and with how the kid was already doing in his internship, and the skills he'd shown on his computer, he knew he would allow it. Walking to the elevators, he waited for the kid, giving him a lopsided grin when he stumbled over his own gangly feet. "Graceful," he commented as the doors closed. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Peter sat in the passenger seat of a very expensive car, sliding down the seat, trying to hide his face. "You do realize no one can see in, right?" Mr. Stark asked, looking at the boy. "O-oh....I didn't know that, because the windows look so clear.." "Yeah, it's a new nano-technology. I just invented it last year, actually...and speaking of inventing." He turned in his seat, his hands no longer on the wheel, which made Peter go ballistic, eyes wide. "Oh, don't worry. Friday's driving, aren't you Fri?" "Yes, boss," the AI answered from the speakers. "Friday is in everything I've created. But anyway, how would you feel, about becoming my personal. Intern? Hm?" he narrowed his eyes for a second at the boy. Peter could barely speak at this point, between the shock of Mr. Stark letting go of the wheel, to the sudden question. "I-wow....yes!" he laughed. "I would-love that! But, what brought this on?" Tony stroked his beard in thought, eyeing the teen. "Well, I noticed your computer skills when you hacked into my computer system-still thinking of a punishment for that, by the way. And I've heard nothing but good things about you, plus seeing you in the lab with Bruce the other day, the idea just came to me." In the form of Pepper, but he didn't have to tell Peter that. "I'm sorry about the hacking," Peter responded sheepishly. "But, it's kind of your fault that I did it." And he noticed his mistake the minute the words were out of his mouth by the look Mr. Stark gave him. "Excuse me?" "I-I take that back," Peter tried, but it didn't work. "I made those systems by hand, kid. There is nothing wrong with my systems." Peter nodded, then looked down. "Well..." "What?" "There are a couple of flaws that I noticed....but they weren't big ones! Just, some mainframe weakness on some very important files, but like I said, no big deal!" Tony sighed. "Which files?" "What?" Peter asked, flinching when Mr. Stark almost glared at him. "Which. Files.Kid. A minute ago I couldn't shut you up!" This was exasperating. Why did he agree to this? But, he could feel pride swelling up in his heart. "Well, one was the suit's protocols. It wasn't weak per say, but it looked like it was rushed. Then a couple of files labeled 'playtime', whatever those were, and-" Tony held his hand up. "That's enough! I don't ever want you looking at the playtime file, ever. Do you hear me?" That was 'private Tony time' media of him and Pepper, that the woman didn't know he'd recorded. "Ever." He turned away from the smiling teen, clearing his throat. "Okay, so, you're my new assistant, intern, whatever. You start as soon as you come home." "But what about my homework?" Peter looked at the man with worried eyes and Mr. Stark sighed. "Fine, after your 'homework'," he mimicked the teen, using air quotes, "you can come be my assistant personal intern. God, between you and Steve I'm going to insane." Outside he pretended to be angry, but inside he was laughing at the kid's face now. "Oh, and here, I noticed you're eating me out of house and home, which, by the way, is Steve's job, but here's some money for lunch. I doubt you'll be getting free hot lunch from school for two months while with me." Peter looked at the wad of bills tossed into his lap from the man's wallet. Did Mr. Stark always carry this much around with him? He took a bill and tried to give the rest back, but the man shook his head. "No, that's just pocket change." he said without a look, staring in at the road in front of him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They pulled up to the school, Peter quickly grabbing the handle. He was about to get out, but turned and smiled at the once disliked man. "Thanks for the ride, Mr. Stark. I can take the subway back," he offered, not surprised when Mr. Stark shook his head. "No, I'll have Happy pick you up, seeing as I'll be too busy doing my work alone while you're doing homework." Peter grinned at his face. "I'll make sure to bug you in your lab while I do it," he cajoled and got out. "You better! See you after school, kid." Tony took off with a smile on his face. He really liked Peter. But, he reminded him of someone and he couldn't put his finger on it, which was bugging him. Oh well, he thought with a shrug. He had to go home and figure out how the hell Spider-Man was able to crawl up walls like he did. As soon as Peter was seen getting out of the expensive car, people began to talk and the boy blushed. He'd forgotten the whole press thing Mr. Stark had called on Saturday. Now the whole school knew. "Hey Penis Parker!" Flash suddenly punched the boy's shoulder hard enough to make Peter wince. "How does it feel to be someone's charity case?" he teased. "Poor little orphan penis, no family to love him, has to rely on others to feel anything. In two month's time, Tiny Stark will dump you back on the curb you came from, where you belong." The bully cackled, pushing Peter to the ground when he walked away. "You okay?" Ned asked, his hand offered to his friend. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about Sunday. You were supposed to come over, but now that's on hiatus." Peter kicked a pebble, accidentally using his super strength and made the rock fly off the grounds. He ducked and looked around, but thankfully no one had seen. "I'm just pissed that Mr. Stark has my suit now! I mean, I can't be Spider-Man if the suit is laying in pieces on his lab table!" He kicked another pebble as they walked, softer this time. "I understand. Well, not really, but it's like this one time, my mom took my Xbox away and hid it in her closet for like a month. That was rough." His friend laughed, making Ned feel better. "Yeah, we'll call it that. Come on, we've got to get to homeroom." He and the other boy walked quickly towards the class. "Hey losers," MJ said as she saw her two friends come in, both of them smiling and waving at her. "So, congrats Peter. I heard about your adoption." Peter balked. "No, no, it's not like that! Mr. Stark just needed a kid to live with him, to show the world he loves the kid's too, or something like that. I'm going back in two months." He looked at the girl and saw anger. "That is so like Tony fucking Stark. Lead someone on with glittering things, then rip it all away. What an asshole." She went back to her drawing, the look on her face saying it wasn't a nice one now as she scribbled on the paper. Ned and Peter shared a look before giggling a little bit like children, until MJ shot them a look that shut them up. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "So, you're working on a new suit, with parts that you stole from Iron Man's lab, and using parts of Black Widow's gowns...and she knows your secret?" Peter nodded as his friend broke it down during chemistry while their teacher was talking. "Yeah, basically," he whispered. Looking down at his webbing, he was formulating a stronger substance and knew he'd found the right mixture of things when the stirrer was stuck in the glass. He smiled and then shut the drawer. After class, he filled a soda bottle with his web fluid, smiling at its liquid state as it went in. This was an excellent batch. With a pep in his step, Peter headed to lunch. He hadn't seen Flash since that morning, not that he was complaining. The bully seemed like he was jealous of Peter...it perplexed him. Why would anyone be jealous of someone without a family, no matter how much free stuff they got? He shook his head and got on the lunch line when he remembered the money Mr. Stark gave him. With a grin, he got off the line and grabbed MJ as soon as she came in, then Ned and pulled them from the lunchroom. "What's wrong?" Ned asked, panicked eyes looking around for danger. "Nothing! I just figured, since we have the ability to leave school grounds for lunch, and this," he showed the wad of money to his friends. Ned's eyes went wide, while MJ didn't seem too impressed. "We can go out, my treat." Peter felt bad about using the money, but if he didn't, it would just sit in his pocket-he really needed a wallet- and that wasn't the best way to keep money when you're a teenager. The trio walked to a fast food place and ordered, waiting for their lunch, when a woman gaped at Peter. "Excuse me, are you the foster kid Tony Stark took in? Peter?" The teen turned at the question and the woman's eyes lit up. "You are! You're Peter the foster kid!" She pulled out her phone, as did everyone else in the restaurant and the boy looked appalled and frightened at the same time. Suddenly, MJ grabbed his arm and the bag of food that had arrived and dragged him out, Ned behind him, not responding to any questions thrown at them. By the time they ran back to the school, the press were following them, the flashing camera's going off behind them. MJ slammed the gate to the school, smirking at the harpies. "You're not allowed on school grounds, assholes. Go stalk a turd," she flipped them off and dragged a red Peter behind her, ignoring the boy who was apologizing the entire way. "Don't sweat it," she said softly. "It's not your fault they're like vultures who go after anything and anyone with a name behind them." She ripped open the bag and stuffed a few french fries in her mouth before the boys could grab their own burgers. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ School was finished for the day, and Peter couldn't be more glad. But, as soon as he reached the stairs, Flash was there, pushing him down the last few, making him tumble and scrape his knee. The dark skinned bully laughed with his friends, only to stop so suddenly, Peter had to look. Happy stood in front of them, a hand on his gun as he stared the bullies down. "Did I just see you push him?" he ground out angrily. "I-it was an accident," Flash tried to lie, only to flinch back when Happy moved, offering his hand to Peter to pull him up. "If I ever catch you 'accidentally' doing anything to Peter again, I will personally come to your house, and ask your parents if it's all right if I kick the crap out of you. Is that understood?" Flash only nodded, his face ashen. Peter walked behind the guard. "Thank you, for that," he said lowly. "If that kid gives you any more crap, you tell me, got it?" Happy looked back at the boy who nodded. "Good. Now come on, boss doesn't like it when people are late." He brought Peter to a car that reeked with money and got in, but gave the boy a strange look when he opened the passenger door. "No, I don't think so, kid. You're in the back." Peter made a face, but then slid in the back door, pouting a little bit. "Do you wanna hear what we did at school?" the boy asked the driver, who didn't say anything, instead he simply raised a hand and brought the divider up, waving a little to the boy. "Real mature," he called, giving the man raspberries. Sighing, the boy brought out his text books. Better get started on his homework. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Hey, kid, come here for a second." Tony didn't turn around but knew it was Peter coming into his lab. "I need tiny fingers for this." He was holding an electrical magnet over a wire, watching so that it didn't spark or move. "Hey Mr. Stark how are you-is that Spider-Man's goggles?" He was sad and angry to see them torn to shreds, their wiring bared for the world to see. "Yes, it is. Apparently, Underoos here, isn't as advanced as I thought, which gives Clint's reasoning for him being a kid plausible." Underoos? Peter shook his head. "What do you need me to do?" Mr. Stark pointed to an exposed wire. "Hold that, and keep it there. I want to find out how these things work." When the kid was in place, Tony let the magnet draw out the electrical flow. "That's odd," he muttered. "It seems like these weren't goggles at all....more like sensitivity dullers." Peter frowned. He'd made those when his senses were suddenly dialed up to eleven and everything was just too much to take in at once. He even wore them to school, explaining how they were to help his headaches. That had been a hell of a month with being teased and beat up. "Huh. So, this was a waste of time," the billionaire threw the goggles to the side, not worrying that the kid still had them. "Oh well. Clear off a table for yourself and do your homework." Peter glanced at his goggles, ripped apart on the floor and felt tears come to his eyes. He wasn't the sentimental type, but seeing that got to him. All his hard work, gone in a day, and the man who did it didn't even know what he'd done. He chose a table that wasn't as cluttered as the rest of them and cleared a spot, taking his books out of his bag, starting his work. Tony kept glancing at Peter, a small smile coming to his face every time he did. Peter was hunched over a text book, scribbling answers quickly, holding his head in his hand like he was bored. Finally, the man gave up working on his suit, going over to the boy. "Move the butt," he said playfully. Grabbing a chair, he twirled it around, sitting and throwing his hands on the back. "What've we got?" Peter blushed and looked down at the book on the table. "I-it's no problem, Mr. Stark. I've got it." The man snorted. "I know that. I'm just bored." He looked over Peter's shoulder. "Quantum physics. Pretty strong stuff." Peter nodded and smiled. "Yeah, but I love it. It's so easy, but there are some questions that still get me. But, the school doesn't have anything more advanced than this." He sighed. "So why don't you tell your school?" Tony blinked, looking at Peter like it was that easy, which the boy wished it was. "There's no one in my school to teach me anything more advanced. I'm flying through chemistry, but, there are still some chemicals I'm too young to touch, so I don't know any of those advanced equations." Peter shrugged, writing another answer down. "Hm. Well, as long as you don't hack into the school, it's all good." He winked at the boy. "How are you at mechanics?" "Well, I'm pretty good." What was this guy, bi-polar? "Good. I'm working on a new upgrade and I need your girly hands again." The boy narrowed his eyes at Tony, who shrugged. "Sorry, truth. Come on." For hours they worked on the upgrades, Tony telling stories that made Peter laugh so much his face turned red. Finally, Tony felt his stomach grumble, and looked at the kid, who was busy working on one of the parts, a look of concentration on his face the reminded the man so much of himself at that age. "I'm hungry, you hungry? You're always hungry. I'm gonna order some Chinese." With that that man was out of the room. He stood against the wall, head against it. What was he doing? He was getting all emotional after only three days of meeting the kid. He didn't want to say that he was beginning to love the kid, but like was a better word for it. He smirked. He definitely wouldn't fight Pepper if she wanted to keep him here. Plus, he would be handy in the lab after school. But, it seemed that Pepper had made the perfect plan. "Man, that woman completes me," he whispered and went to order some food for him and Peter, his mind made up.

[jessiewre]

Day 53

Weds 26th Feb

Kiddie Soup 🍵

We were excited to have mustard at breakfast again but realised it had been a BIG mistake letting Wendy try it the day before. Turned out she didn’t just like it, she LOVED it and even asked if she could have some more. Sure, we said, sharing is caring right?

WRONG.

Wendy grabbed a massive spoon and scooped out most of the remaining mustard to put on one single piece of toast, like it was jam. The layer of mustard was an inch thick! Even I, the self-confessed condiment queen, wouldn’t have done stooped to these lows (or should I say ‘scooped’). Ok maybe I would, but only with Branston rich and fruity sauce brown sauce ok and that is different.

After we’d recovered from shock and managed to suppress our anger and not murder Wendy, we walked to the tailor AGAIN to explain that my trousers were wrong (yes the trousers are wrong, NOT my arse), plus we bought the shirt to ask if he was blind and explain that the pocket was still at a mental angle.

Luckily the tailor said he wasn’t blind and totally understood and would fix it all. We crossed our fingers that we’d be 2nd time lucky. Sorry, 3rd time for the shirt.

The hotel helped to book our bus tickets for the Friday morning from Mombasa to Moshi so it was now official, we would be checking out the next day. Devastated obvs.

Naturally, we decided to chill by the pool for our last day in Watamu and we were so glad we did. A massive group of young kids about 5-6 years old were visiting the hotel (no idea why) and were sat up in the pool restaurant presumably having lunch. They filed past the pool in their cute matching uniforms and waved enthusiastically at us. After lunch, they could not contain their excitement as they skipped down from the restaurant to the pool in their colourful ‘swimwear’. Some were in vest and shorts, some in onesies, some in rather ill fitting hand-me–down swimsuits - but no one cared what they looked like, they just wanted to get in that water PRONTO.

Some guy, presumably a teacher, was trying to control them and he made it very clear that any pushing or jumping would result in an instant removal from the pool - the ULTIMATE PUNISHMENT. Unfortunately a couple of kids lost their minds too early on and did a few spasm jumps and pushes, they could not control themselves, and the worst happened - they got banished to the shade, OUT of the pool. It was so sad to see their heart broken faces watching all the other kids enjoying themselves.

Phil and I got into the big pool next to the kids and started to splash them a bit. This turned into a huge splashing match with the kids in hysterics. The teacher man tried to look like he was ok with it through gritted teeth. All the while, there was a patient group of children on the sidelines waiting for their turn in the mini pool. Not one to miss an opportunity for praise, we started doing handstands for them and they were thrilled. They started clapping everytime we did a handstand and shouted Again! Again! repeatedly.

Well you gotta give the people what they want. I sat on Phil’s shoulders and the crowd was loving it. We stepped it up again - imagine how they reacted when I put Phil on MY shoulders jeez. We decided to pull out all the stops and do the ultimate trick - Phil went underwater and I positioned my feet on his shoulders wondering if we were going to be able to pull it off. It couldn’t have gone any better, it was like we’d practised it a million times. Phil rose from the water and I lifted myself up to stand high before neatly diving off his shoulders.

Our performance received rapturous applause and no doubt 5 star reviews in the Watamu Gazette.

Phil got bored of the pool by the afternoon and said he was going to look at the beach. Fine by me mate, have fun looking at a beach, I thought. But twenty minutes later, he called me to say he’d actually buggered off to the next bay and that I should join him. FFS I was trying to get the blog done but agreed to walk up. I accidentally took so long to leave that I half expected him to be back before I left, but no such luck. The next bay along was way fancier than our bay, with very expensive looking hotels next to the beach that wouldn’t let us even buy a drink from them. GUYS PLEASE I AM PARCHED ok fine whatever, we didn’t want one anyway.

We walked back and got a drink IMMEDIATELY and went to the pool for our final pool time. As there was a big event on at the hotel, there were quite a few people milling around and some African guys got into the pool. Turned out they couldn’t swim though, so I spent half an hour hosting a mini swimming lesson trying to teach them some basics to get them started. I don’t think I was the best teacher, but I was certainly the best one in the pool. They weren’t the best pupils either to be honest. But it’s hard to imagine what it would be like as an adult to get into a pool when you can’t swim, it really must be terrifying.

We walked back to the tailor for the trouser fitting and I nervously waited to see if my a arse would fit into this pair. They did! Result. And Phil’s shirt pocket was no longer drunk.

Phil went on an evening swim in the bay and we ended up going out pretty late for dinner but I was excited to wear my new trousers. They were so comfy and looked pretty good too! Lovely. We walked through the hotel grounds and I swooshed my trousers around loving the wide trouser. I casually went to put my hands in my pockets and....hang on a minute...this feels weird. Yep so the pockets were on backwards. Or rather, the string tie was on backwards, resulting on me putting them on backwards!

BLOODY HELL THESE TROUSERS.

I text the tailor who apologised profusely and said I could get it sorted first thing (YEAH THANKS MATE THATS THE LEAST YOU CAN DO) and we headed for delicious pizza, even if it did take over an hour and I was falling asleep on the table.

[pfirsiche]

8008132

Bro first off why do you hate me I’ve got that 80hd I can’t remember big numbers second off: you’re super cool!!! Your art is so awesome!! I’m super inspired by your art and you’re so cool and I miss the days we’d get banished to jail in kiddie table for being the ultimate chaotic duo.

[guardmesherlock-rowan]

Model conversation 10

Okay so yesterday When I got an actual request for George specific stuff and this is what happened in my head.

I call George up on the phone.  I find he’s not normally around all to often, the drama that gets started with the others gets to be too much. It takes a few rings and despite it being 10 in the morning he answers with a slurred groggy voice, “hello?”

“Hey George, guess what?”

He mumbles something resembling a ‘what’? Or possibly a snore.

“I got a request for you.”

“That’s nice for him, why are you telling me?” He manages through a yawn, I narrow my eyes for a moment processing, wondering where we could’ve possibly already gone wrong.

“George?”

“Yeah?”

“You, they asked for you.”

“Oh!” Suddenly he is bright and happy, “do....do you need me to come over so we can talk about what to tell them?”

“Please and thank you!” I sigh, thankful that he was able to rejoin the conversation so quickly.

The phone call ends abruptly and I make the mistake of checking twitter while I wait. Writing! Writers! My friends from the writers group excited and talking about publishers and agents. My mind flashes back to writers group when I announced that I wasn’t really looking into traditional publishing, and that I would be more than happy to make what I write available online for free; and if I ever finished my own novel just having a pay what you want or if you want to it. The look they gave me. I may be the fastest writer out of them, but once again it felt like I was banished to the kiddie table.

The hollowness of disappointment slowly creeping outward, anxiety following in it’s wake. The time period between these episodes getting shorter and shorter. My mind starts reeling and comparing and panicking.

“Hey! Oh.” By the time George bursts into the room I’m spacing out, staring out the window at nothing. My expression relaxed and eyes unfocused. “So… umm… what are you doing?”

It was a long pause before I could blink and slowly turn my head to look at him, “hey George, yeah just give me a second to get some caffeine and my notebook so we can talk.”

“S-sure.” He follows me into the kitchen and watches as I stand there looking around. “Caffeine?”

“Right!” I snap my fingers and shot him a finger gun, “yep!” I start moving around the kitchen muttering to myself the word 'coffee’ on repeat.

“You know what, why don’t you sit down and get some questions in mind and I can get the coffee?”

“You sure George?”

“Yeah we have the same machine in the office, I think this is something I can’t mess up. Don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t worried. Thank you.” I gently pat his arm and sit down at the kitchen table, I pull the notebook close and start to tap my pencil against it. My eyes start to unfocus and the pencil taps slow to a stop.

“Here you are.” Before I knew it George was holding a cup of coffee in front of me.

“Oh thanks!”

“So… umm… you know if you need to reschedule…” George smile looked hesitant and mildly pained. “I know I can’t possibly be the easiest to write for so if you need time… to…”

“Oh oh no George no, just a lot going on in my mind.”

I didn’t even notice when he was slumping his shoulders until he straightened his back, eyes wide, “oh!” Sometimes it’s hard to remember that body language doesn’t always transfer properly, guilt tightened in my gut.  I know George was not the most confident person, and I hated to think I made him feel like the problem was him.  Though there was no really good way for either of us to have known unless we talked about it. “What-what’s going on?”

“Just a lot of self doubt George if I’m being honest. Wondering if I have any right to call myself a writer or say I am a writer… you know?”

“Oh I know, trust me.” He chuckled though the way his brow furrowed made me wonder how genuine that laugh was.

“Just… I know I should keep writing, and that people like it but… like… would I even be accepted as a writer? Like is it good enough? Will I ever be good enough? Things like that.”

There is a long stretch of silence before I look up George who is narrowing his eyes before sighing loudly and dramatically, “the club meets on Wednesdays at 8:30 and on Thursdays we wear our favorite outfits to try and make ourselves smile.”

“I don’t-”

“Come on now, you know exactly how I feel. You know that is exactly how I feel. You’re smart enough.” George waved his hand as his expression darkened, “the feeling that… you’ll never be good enough….”

“I’m sorry George…” I reached out to touch his hand, only to find both of his grab mine. The chair screeched in complaint as he moved closer, pulling my hand to him, while locking his eyes with mine. His determination almost suffocating.

“But you know what I’ve learned? There will always be Sherlock’s out there. People who are just naturally better at what you’re passionate about and will let you know it every chance they get. Or John’s who aren’t even that interested and are more talented than you are at what you’re doing. Or even cute little MCs who try to include you, who are still quicker at it than you, who you can never ever be upset with, but still make you feel inadequate because you want to impress them and never can… but those people don’t matter in this. What matters is you keep doing what you’re passionate about even along side these others. Because there will still be the people who ask for you by name.” He smirked.

Surprised at the last line I started laughing, he smiled and pulled back, releasing my hand, “so shall we give the people what they want?” He tapped on the notebook.

“Yeah, thanks George.”

[jeremystrele]

Simone Haag, Goldie and Clover

Simone Haag, Goldie and Clover

Family

Emma Eldridge

Sticker time for Simone Haag and her youngest daughter Clover (one). Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

The revered designer and stylist at home in Ringwood. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

Simone and Rhys Haag’s adorable daughters Clover (one) and Goldie (three). Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

Breakfast for the trio involves porridge and a dance party. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

‘Invest in the pieces you love, and ensure your kids respect the boundaries around those pieces,’ says Simone. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

‘These are the moments that make up the hours, that make up the day, that are my life,’ is a mantra Simone lives by. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

Simone shuns the ‘we will wait until the children grow up and then buy such and such’ mentality, instead encouraging her girls to respect her cherished belongings. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

‘Our house is not abundant with kid’s stuff, and when I do have a guilty shop for toys, they tend to be tossed aside for playtime in the garden anyway,’ says Simone. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

In the early days, Simone felt guilt about working and so spent ‘every non-billable moment’ with the girls, but has now learned to enjoy some ‘me time’ too. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

‘I have the freedom to attend activities like Bush Playgroup with my girls or take a six-week summer break. But work follows me everywhere,’ tells Simone. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for The Design Files.

I was excited this week by Kin & Kind’s Re-shaping After Career Breaking workshop, which brought together four experts in their fields to talk career advancement post-parenthood (I’ll be trying out job sharing platform Puffling, and have ordered Jayne Anderson’s Working It Out: Career, Family and You). Being realistic about who you are, where you’re at, and what you need was underscored as important – something designer, stylist, and mum to Goldie (three) and Clover (one) Simone Haag has down pat.

Today we catch-up with the in-demand creative on climbing new career heights with tikes.

After what I can only imagine was quite a wild time working in extreme sports, events and PR, you started at Hecker Guthrie as a receptionist – leaving eight years later as design and communications manager to have your first child and go freelance. Can I write your biography?!

Yes, please – it’s quite a story, with one incredible job leading to the next. It all started with a season at Mt Buller, where I met the crew from a Canadian heliboarding lodge. Before I knew it, I was working there, in Chamonix for two seasons, then at London’s Sanderson Hotel organising parties for the likes of Elton John, Madonna, and Sting.

After a chance meeting with Quiksilver’s CEO, I joined their boat, The Crossing, and sailed around the US for two years – doing events and PR with surfing legends like Kelly Slater. A spell spent working on private jets (my first flight involved escorting a Hollywood heavyweight to Fiji) led me back to Melbourne; I was ready to lay down some roots after reuniting with my now husband, Rhys.

I cold-called Hecker Guthrie in the hope of landing a comparatively settled job in a creative environment, and with enthusiasm, a sponge-like disposition, and hard work, my role grew from administration to design and communications. I found my mojo in the furnishing and layering stage of high-end residential projects, and today can’t quite believe I have a business completing client homes – my passion and livelihood rolled into one.

You’ve said, ‘I knew I couldn’t do the work in the same way and it felt like the right time to start out on my own.’ With mothers of young children being the fastest growing demographic of freelancers, you’re not alone. Do you think there’s a sense that it’s up to us to create roles that suit our families, not workplaces to become more family-friendly?

It’s an interesting question, and there’s no one-shoe-fits-all solution. I was certainly offered a flexible return to studio life but, like retiring after winning gold, I left when I knew I had given it my all. I was genuinely nervous that I wouldn’t be able to ensure the same commitment with a small person in tow.

As many would attest, being a freelancer is a blessing and a curse. I have the freedom to attend activities like Bush Playgroup with my girls or take a six-week summer break. But work follows me everywhere and, with the budgets I spend on behalf of my clients plus the expectations I place on myself, switching off isn’t easy.

I recall when Goldie was crawling, I’d pop her at one end of the hallway then race to the other to send a work email; when she caught up with me, I’d repeat the process. Luckily most of my clients are at ease with my juggle, and are happy to take calls after hours.

Work has been incredible – at last count, I had close to 20 projects on the go. Things really turned a corner when I employed my design assistant, Sarah Shinners; she’s allowed me to take time to work on my business, not just in it. I try very hard to provide a high level of customer service, and having Sarah assist with client support and supplier liaison has been a game changer.

Just back from a sourcing trip to New York, about to move into a shared space with Fred International, a new focus on high-end residential, plus a trip to the Milan Furniture Fair in April – you’re besieged but in a good way. Do you have any advice for other parents on career expansion with kids?

I found The Mother’s Mind Cleanse by The Broad Place an excellent tool. It encourages banishing words like ‘busy’ for phrases like ‘I am engaged in some exciting projects,’ and reframing the idea of ‘juggling’ with mantras such as ‘these are the moments that make up the hours, that make up the day, that are my life.’

I’ve also learnt I need to schedule time for me. In the early days, the guilt I felt about working meant I spent every non-billable moment with my babies – which was like having two full-time jobs (on very little sleep!). On my work days, finding balance can be as simple as coming home to have a shower, make a cuppa, and take a moment before crèche pick-up; it helps so much with compartmentalising my dual roles. I also try to make time for health and wellbeing, be it a Pilates class, health retreat, or dinner with the girls.

I would say the way to expand your career is to surround yourself with people who know more than you do; I am in the process of working with a business manager/mentor, and I can’t wait to see things through her eyes. Also try not to track what your competitors are doing – it will only spark insecurity. Rely instead on intuition, and realise at the end of the day what we do should be joyful. 

Your Melbourne and Philip Island homes count among the most popular we’ve featured on TDF. Has your aesthetic changed at all since Clover and Goldie arrived on the scene, and is there anything you’ve had to sacrifice, or come to appreciate?

I won’t lie, I was a little scared pre-baby, but by the time you come out of that initial fog, you’re re-wired to lean into it. We have a cleaner once a week who restores balance, but what happens in-between is not a bother to me – as long as I can see the floor at the end of the day. Our house is not abundant with kid’s stuff, and when I do have a guilty shop for toys, they tend to be tossed aside for playtime in the garden anyway.

One thing I find interesting is the ‘we will wait until the children grow up and then buy such and such’ mentality. My advice would be to instil respect from the get go; invest in the pieces you love, and teach your kids the boundaries around those pieces. I’ve an open shelf full of ceramics, and the more special pieces are that little bit out of reach, but the girls rarely notice they are there.

I have come to appreciate our over-sized Carl Hansen Wing chair which has room for us all and, funnily enough, I can’t think of a thing we’ve sacrificed per se. Now that the house is feeling a little small (with the queue for the toilet a little long), we’ve engaged our friends at Kennedy Nolan to help us with creative solutions to expand on what we already have – and it’s all being rolled out by Design Orr Build as we speak. My aesthetic is changing all the time, and for the renovation I’m bringing back some vintage Italian pieces – I can’t wait to share some work-in-progress pics on Instagram!

Can you give us a glimpse into how your days start and end with Clover and Goldie? 

I am not a morning person, so they never start early. One or both girls will make it into bed with me, and I’ll try every trick in the book to get a little more sleep. Breakfast involves porridge and a dance party and, because it’s almost impossible to get yourself and two toddlers ready for the day, I’m generally bra-less and in trackies for the bi-weekly crèche drop-off. I then head home to prepare for work – so much easier without two thigh-huggers bickering over the equal distribution of sultanas!

I very much look forward to the end-of-day routine, which is why I can count the number of times I’ve been out for dinner in the last three years on one hand. Our dining table has, up until now, served as my desk – so we often eat around the kiddy table (this always makes me giggle). I like a bath with the babies at the end of the day (until it all goes south when one of them does a number two), and like most parents enjoy the sound of silence when they go down. After that, I pick up some magazines, and start what we affectionately term ‘the night shift.’

Moving across time, what kind of adults might you like the girls to grow into? How would you like them to remember you to their own families?

Kind, inquisitive, and soulful. I would like them to remember that cuddles were a never-ending resource, and that growing up with a dog the size of a horse was normal.

Family Favourites

Clothing brand

Hubble + Duke is a favourite for the little ladies in my life.

Bedroom item

A new use for an old item. As mentioned, we’re renovating, so the girls are sharing which is all sorts of fun – particularly when the baby monitor lets us listen in to what they ‘chat’ about before sleep.

Activity or outing

Heading to our beach house on weekends; the girls play shop in their cubby house by Castle and Cubby.

Dinner destination

We’re very happy with a picnic dinner in the backyard. The girls think it’s fun, but it’s really my way of avoiding wiping the high chairs and sweeping the floors again!

Book, film or show

The girls love any Disney film where there’s a red-headed heroine, a bit of Pig the Pug, and putting on their own shows for the ‘grown nuts.’

[fandomohana]

I was trying to fall asleep around 3:15, ended up sobbing. I can't remember the exact time, but I know my dad left us in the wee hours. I was in the chair next to him, and I know there was a clock over his head, but my brain wasn't focused on that. All it remembers is the dark sky outside. My brain tried to take me back to that hospital room. To relive every single agonizing moment. The phone ringing after I'd gone to bed. Waiting on the porch for my 30 minute ride to the hospital. Every time I jolted awake from a doze to make sure he was still with us.

It was a bit uncomfortable in my room last night, too warm for me. I had started reminding myself of the cold late swim season mornings. When the college we practiced at wouldn't turn on the heater to the pool in the morning because their team's season hadn't started yet. It was so cold, we would climb out for hot showers. I went there before my brain tried to pull me back to the hospital.

I was able to pull free by remembering that pool, the water taking my breath away, the feel of the tiles under my feet, the plastic lane lines, and how each plastic ring would spin in the water. I remembered the diving blocks, they were blue with black and white numbering, I remembered the coarse grip tape on top of the diving blocks, how it scratched my feet. I felt the soft, worn foam of the kick boards, the little alcove with the kiddie pool, the office to the side, and the course coated diving board.

I turned on my tea light night light, the last thing my dad gave me, from when he was in the hospital. The light that I turned on every night that I was alone in the house, until that night ten years ago. I always turn it on when I'm hurting, or when I'm away from home, I feel my dad in it. With my safety light, the projector in my room making watery waves across my ceiling, and memories of the pool, I finally banished the hospital, and fell asleep. I miss you, Fatboy.

This isn't my bedroom, it's a picture of the night stand at a bed and breakfast we stayed in. I'm too lazy to go back upstairs right now to take a picture of the candle itself. I keep these three items on my side table, and travel with them, they represent the people I've lost. My grandma's virgin Mary statue, a happy Buddha my second parents gave me, he has since passed away, and the candle from my dad.

I don't have a ton of pictures of both of us as I got older, but here are some.