a&a; massive clean up, classic disasters

This week ended with a bit of a washout.
Flash flooding and whole heap of rain, Zac wasn’t sure if he’d be able to ‘properly’ win his Grand Final.
But it is Melbourne.
As quickly as the rain came it went, and despite me pulling out my tights for the first time this year, the week has ended with sunshine.


I’m starting with the awesome, because, despite my inability to enthuse whenever Zac talks about cricket, I know how important it is to him, and I am still proud of him!
When it comes to cricket, I’m a complete Jon Snow.

I’ve picked up some buzz words along the way, and usually I make the right sounds when he’s telling me about his game.
I’ve managed to accept days of cricket on the TV (for the most part), drowning it out as white noise, but as soon as he sees Gauc to debrief on their game, my eyes glaze over, I’m bored and completely lost because I’m only understanding 20% of what the boys are saying.

I’ve done my duty.
I’ve sat there, bored out of my brains with the puppy, watching him do the running stuff and the bowling stuff and the throwing stuff.
Laughed at the boys from the club sledging their own players (laughed especially hard when they were sledging Alex, his brother).
I’ve felt a weird sense of pride when everyone is calling him Zaccy and then immediately out of place going in to the rooms to see him when they were having lunch.
There were tiny children there who were more comfortable around cricket than I was.

That being said, he had his grand final this weekend, and it was a big one.
Playing on their home ground for the final (an unprecedented ground selection), the ground where his Dad’s ashes are spread, on the 10th anniversary of his death, the boys won!

Zac got a few medals, which I’m led to believe meant he played really, really well.
What I do know is, he made a PB, said he played one of the best games he has, and came home with a ball and a piece of wood (not his bat).
Even I know it’s the best people that take home the souvenirs.
And I was super proud of him.

But the best thing about all of this?
No. More. Cricket.


I couldn’t have my awkward this week without talking about the epic mess I made in the kitchen.
I’m literally scarred from the experience, we’re still pulling remnants out of our feet and the smell of expensive naturopathic herbs and basil hasn’t quite left the kitchen.
We live and learn.

The easiest way for me to describe the mess is to just show you.
In terms of spice cupboards it was apocalyptic, and as I stood, arm outstretched, still holding the bottle of oil that started the whole damn thing and felt each subsequent bottle fall and smash again me, I couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ‘Becky-ness’ of it all.

We’d just restocked the spice cupboard, so all the bottle of herbs were brand new, we had brand new litres of coconut oil and 2kgs of rice that went quicker than even Zac can usually eat through them!

I’ve since moved the shelf a notch higher, so hopefully we can avoid future disaster…


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