Oh fuck. It has just occurred to me that I might have grown up...

By all rights I should have hated today, spent the majority of it like a bear with a sore head and now, instead of blogging, be cursing Dry July for stopping me having the beer I so richly deserve. (I do of course realise that Dry July is merely two words and it is my own determination to have a dry July (small D, I am not "doing" Dry July) after a wetter than usual June that finds me eating chocolate and chocolate covered Hob Nobs and salted peanuts because that is so much better than a couple of Guinness. I digress early; back to today.)

Today started typically early with H's 04:20 call of "daddy I want milk." I got up, she had milk and went back to sleep and I spent the next hour logged in to work fixing stuff. With stuff fixed I went back to bed and failed to fall back to sleep, convinced that H would be waking up again any minute, so what's the point? I did get up to her again and managed to convince her it was too early to get up, scoring maybe 30minutes of light shut-eye before the whole house woke up in pretty much reverse chronological order.

The epic fail of the Virgin Australia computer network on Friday night meant Sal was at home and not in Queensland. She was rebooked on a 10am-ish flight which meant a delayed start to my near-5-days-solo-parenting. When Sal is away Rowlf has a dramatically reduced exercise regime so I took the opportunity presented by the 90mins before Sal left for the airport to get the big lump down to and in the Harbour for a swim.

It is a shame that the happier the big lump is the more he can piss me off. In winter he knows a walk in the hours of daylight will almost certainly involve in a swim. When we head from my coffee stop towards the water he launches harbourwards with a shoulder dislocating pace that would probably pull most people off their feet; I have learnt to lean back a bit, bend my knees and hope he doesn't hospitalise me. If only that were poetic license and not gospel truth. He does calm, a bit, but never really walks to heel. He can. He does sometimes. But when he is off for a swim there is no heeling.

I got a couple of OK pictures of him swimming and was back home by 8 to deal with the brief our-world-is-coming-to-an-end tears and tantrums that can sometimes accompany Sal's departure for a pilates course, let along 4 days away. But armed with a new video of Rowlf swimming I employed distraction and things calmed down. I hung out with the girls and we packed lunches and changes of clothes and at 10 headed to the pool for their swimming lessons.

Their official lessons are an hour apart, H first and I go in with her. I was hoping AJ could slot into a lesson at the same time as H, but in case not we packed a book and her camera so she could remain occupied and hopefully where I could see her.

I had a bit of luck and AJ got a lesson at 10:30, same time as H. It really is not much fun swimming with H in her lesson. If I go in alone with her she will happily and fearlessly hurl herself from the side, hang on to my shoulders and kick her legs, laugh when I dunk her and generally have a great old time. In the lesson she screams her arse off and insists "I'm done, I'm finished!"Lesson ends and she is fine again. Ah well, she'll get there. While it was good to not have to worry about AJ it was a shame I could not watch her continued morphing into a fish; she is going great guns in her lessons.

Swim done we had some lunch at the kiosk by the pool. I had my second coffee of the day and would have loved to share the hot chips I bought the little ladies to go with their packed lunches, but on my 5:2 regime I was not allowed to eat until 3pm. The girls destroyed their food, I finished my coffee and then paid for their continued lessons, a little over $200 dollars each. Money well spent on AJ and a step nearer me needing hearing aids and therapy where H is concerned.

There is never an issue with getting the girls down for their lunchtime snooze on a swim day as they're usually knackered. As soon as they were both asleep I grabbed my old Nikon D70S and 300mm lens to take a picture of our ocean view. Yes, I need a 300mm lens, and yes I get the view from the roof, or rather the scaffold, but I don't care; we have an ocean view. I needed to patch up some of my poorer painting efforts from Wednesday while the kids slept, but as I went to start a reasonably heavy shower, that had not been forecast, arrived. Annoyed that I might not get to paint I was half pleased that I may get a catch up nap of my own. So the weather cleared and I painted.

Once the girls were both awake we all got changed and headed for the supermarket to do the grocery shopping. This would, for sure, be the moment my levelheadedness would evaporate and I would revert to type. But no. I had a great time.

You can read that again or I'll simply type it again. I had a great time.

The girls were probably still a bit tired from the swim so not their utterly mental selves, just a bit mad. I plonked H in the trolley and armed AJ with the shopping list. H was on put-stuff-in-the-trolly detail and AJ was finding the things we needed and crossing them off the list. Lots of spelling and counting and, thanks to the short checkout lines of a Saturday afternoon, I escaped unscathed. Handy hint here; ChupaChups. Buy them last and pay for them first, hand one to each child when at the checkout. It's like a mute button.

Home and I took the girls inside then ferried the groceries in past Rowlf who, despite my food-filled bags, seemed to care little about our return, probably still tired from his swim. I packed the groceries away and cooked dinner. That's right, cooked dinner. Our Salmon pasta is no Masterchef challenge but the kids love it, so first course went down easily. Dessert was custard; I was not facing a challenge getting that eaten. Pretty soon after dinner we hit mental o clock; I called Sal but the girls were too busy running up and down with a small tent on their heads to care much about speaking to mum. As far as I could tell Sal, at her folks along with her two sisters, was in the middle of a heated political discussion of Australia's recent Aboriginal rights and wrongs by successive governments. It was, I was assured, going very, very badly.

So AJ had an early night and all was quiet in the house. I started cooking.

Yes, that's right, I started cooking. This is unheard of. Almost certainly a first. Another of Sal's signature dishes is her "zucchini slice" which the girls love and is packed full of veggies. I'll happily throw fish and chips down them tomorrow night at the local club, but the slice means Monday and Tuesday will be veggie-packed dinners.

And that took me to a little after 8pm. A day of running around and chores, a day doing things I rarely do and have convinced myself I like even less. A day without a run, without getting in the water, without time to myself. Until now, and this blog.

I think I'll go and watch some cricket and eat some more peanuts and Hob Nobs. I've already done the washing up.

Oh fuck. It has just occurred to me that I might have grown up...

Before I forget, I have to mention Sal's contribution to today's parenting duties. While I walked Rowlf she took the girls out to the local bakery to get some bread and breakfast croissants. I asked AJ how H had traveled, walking or in the pram to which she said "no, mum drove." Distance to bakery from home - 400m. Just saying...!