Have I got something to tell you!!!!

Today Ms CB and Master CB did the supermarket shopping for me.

We wrote the shopping list together, then I went to work, and Miss CB drove herself and her brother to the local supermarket.

They did the shopping, drove home, brought the bags into the house and put every single item away where it belongs.

I returned home this evening to find my fridge and pantry fully stocked.

Believe me when I tell you that the happiness I feel in response to this is HUGE.

HUGE I SAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To all the mothers out there who are still in the supermarket HELL stage - yes, I remember it like it was yesterday...the tantrums, the whining, the leaking nappies, the shrieking fits. To all you mothers I say loud and clear THERE IS A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL.

That's what I had to tell you.

Good night xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Festival of Freedom

Well, dear friends, we have come to the end of our first "intensive" at Film School (I'm reticent to go into details, but suffice to say, it went very well. Thanks again for the support!). Now we have a few week in which to:

Write the 1st 15 pages of a thriller/rom-com.
Write an outline for the entire first season of a brand-new television drama, and a detailed scene breakdown of its pilot episode.
Write an outline of a feature length screenplay.
Panic. Panic. Panic.

It's at precisely this point that I begin to think that I really would love to:

Do the laundry
Tidy my closet
Reorganise Grandpa's books
Dust Grandpa's books, individually
Begin training for a marathon
Take up a craft
Cook gourmet dinners
Run away

Sadly, I know myself only too well and will soldier on.

It is also the start of Passover tonight, and we will be having our Seder at my parent's place as usual. At times like this I realise that the family depends so very much on my mother's strength, nurture and love of homemaking. I have spent most of my adult life being a homemaker first and foremost, but BEGRUDGINGLY. I've often wondered if my general disdain for my own cooking, decorating, repairing, care-giving, nurturing within the family is a product of my genetic disposition. Perhaps it is due more to the generation into which I was born, one in which women have one foot firmly placed in the home and the other madly hopping up and down in the outer world. It's an exhausting exercise.

Perhaps this is also the reason why all of the protagonists I create for my screenplays are women who are struggling with these issues. Time to create a brand-new Superwoman for the screen, don't you think?

Passover is the festival of freedom, so perhaps I shall try to be a little less hard on myself this year. It's never too late to start.

Families

I've been thinking today about the television programmes which I loved when I was young, and they all seem to have one thing in common - families. They also have musical themes which instantly come back to me even after several decades.

The Brady Bunch, of course, but then also The Waltons, Eight Is Enough and...Bewitched too. I quickly googled them and I found myself physically reacting to the photos, I sighed out loud and laughed and clapped my hands. I even surprised myself by remembering the names of most of the kids from Eight is Enough, and by feeling as if I had actually known them, in real life, in my childhood.

I'm trying to come up with a logline for a television series, it's simply a group exercise my class will be doing next week, nothing huge. Yet, Eleanor being Eleanor (ugh, she does annoy me sometimes), she must insist on taking the task far too seriously. She must begin to wonder if any idea she comes up with can ever be high art enough for the discerning television viewer. She must worry that her fellow student writers will roll their eyes as she nervously mumbles through her pitch, stumbling over the words, blushing.

So thank goodness for my happy childhood and my wonderful memories of the television worlds I lived in.

Also, thank goodness for my real family which gathers around me at times like these and teases me and makes me laugh at the unhealthy and impossible standards I so often set myself.

I'm going to have some fun with this instead. I just have to tell Eleanor about it first. Wish me luck.

Shep nachas

שעפּן נחת

To derive pleasure or pride (especially from one's children)

This Yiddish phrase summarises my feelings today.

Miss CB returned last night from a four-day camp for children with disabilities. Miss CB decided that after finishing her final exams she wanted to volunteer as a carer at this camp, and she came home glowing with happiness, completely exhausted, and impatient to share her experiences with us.

Upon opening her mail, Miss CB then began racing around the house shouting with joy. She had just opened a letter announcing that her HSC artwork has been chosen to be exhibited in next year's Artexpress.

I'm really shepping nachas over here.

Yom assal, yom bassal

That phrase means (in Arabic) "One day honey, one day onion." As my parents and I drove to our next destination on Tuesday, I mentioned to them that I had been in a foul mood on Monday, and my dad immediately sighed and said "Yom assal, yom bassal." So Monday was my onion day and Tuesday was my honey day....sums it up perfectly.

Oh...I need to apologise for the delay in the publishing of this instalment of my day with my parents. Mr. Commentbox arrived home this afternoon from a week-long business trip to New Zealand, and one of his first remarks was "I can't believe you kept us all hanging....I kept checking and checking your blog....and nothing!" Now, of course, you will all be hugely disappointed because my parents did not buy me a new car, or have me drive to the airport and get on a flight to Europe, or.........It was just a simple day really....really!

So, from the breakfast cafe we drove here - an auction centre which my mom had read about. We were not planning to buy anything, we were there to simply take in the atmosphere and people watch. At first, as we walked into the huge warehouse I had my doubts about the entertaining nature of the venue. But soon I found myself surrounded by tables, chairs, cupboards, rugs, spa baths, bird cages, very old children's toys, tacky paintings etc etc. Naturally, I had not brought my camera....sorry guys.

Believe me when I tell you that it was absolutely fascinating to see what people were willing to pay money for, and it was equally fascinating to see how much of the furniture was actually very good. The auctioneer (a tiny woman) was standing on a podium which was wheeled around by two men, and she was selling every single item in that entire warehouse. There was very heavy bidding on a rusted orange squeezer, a box filled with broken chandelier crystals, a VCR circa 1980, I kid you not!

As all of this was going on, trucks kept arriving at the other end of the building with more stuff. There were many men in saggy tracksuits buying old electrical appliances, several young couples probably looking to furnish their first apartment, a woman dressed in a funky skirt & leggings, holding an adorable baby and eyeing an armchair on which an elderly woman (dressed in her Sunday best) was sitting and nibbling on a tiny sandwich.

Even my dad had to admit that this made for excellent entertainment, GO MOM!!!! But people-watching is hungry work....so we had to leave for our next adventure....stay tuned.......

Spoilt rotten

I hereby admit it, before any of you pass judgement on me....my parents always have (and still do) spoil me. I have a childhood friend in Israel who still calls me "The Spoilt One," but it sounds better in Hebrew because it's all one word. - "Hamefooneket" Well, now that I got that out of the way let me tell you what I did on Tuesday.

As you may remember, my Monday was somewhat sad, for no apparent reason really. I was feeling so tired and apathetic that I almost called my parents to cancel the plans we had made for Tuesday.

Actually, I lie...my mother had made plans and then asked my father and me to keep Tuesday free for "some fun". We hadn't spent a day together, just the three of us, in a long time. It's always the six of us, or the four of us, but never the three of us. As usual, my mother instinctively knew that this day would be just what we needed.

I should add here that my mother is spooky that way. When she lived in another country from me, she used to send me parcels which would arrive on the exact day and time when they would make a difference to my mood. I'd receive a parcel with a colourful umbrella just as I was contemplating leaving the house on a rainy day with my broken one. Or I'd receive a book in the mail on the very day that I had read a review of the book and had planned to go buy it. Really.

So...Tuesday arrives and I drive to pick my parents up from the garage where they are giving their car in for service. My mother is also very practical, they wouldn't have the car for the day and so I could pick them up and drive according to her instructions. Mom (my mother is American and hates the word "mum" hence I use the American "mom") and Dad get into my little red hatchback, and Mom's giggling. Already. My mother IS Pollyanna, my father and I are not, she is always annoying us with her over-the-top exuberance. She then digs through her handbag and brings out a tiny soft toy - it's Noddy!!! I like to call my car "The Noddy Car," and she bought me a car mascot, the cutest little Noddy you ever saw in your whole life (I shall try to take a photo at some point). I immediately start cooing and clapping my hands and singing "Oh, look at you, cute little Noddy, you sit right here near the parking brake and keep me company in my Noddy Car. Beep, beep." I could see my dad in the rear view mirror rolling his eyes, but he loved it.

Destination number one - breakfast at Pain Quotidien, a cafe I had never been to before, why, why, how can it be? I KNOW, I thought I already knew all the best Sydney cafes. Turns out it's actually a global chain (but in a good way, really) and I found a great picture of the three spreads they give you with your DIVINE bread right here. Two different jams and one chocolate hazelnut spread TO DIE FOR, but don't worry....it's label said it's ORGANIC...and so my father and I kept repeating the phrase like a mantra as we helped ourselves to more, and more..."It's GOOD for you, it's ORGANIC..." We also had coffee in bowls, I love coffee in bowls.

Destination number two - Hmmmmm....I bet you can't guess.

Thing is, it's almost midnight here and I'm tired...so I'll have to keep you in suspense until tomorrow.

Sorry.

Night, night....