IT’S flashback Monday.
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Because my wonderfully talented cartoonist is under the weather at the moment and not able to draw me any delightful doodles, I thought it would be a good opportunity to take you back to the first Mama Mayhem where we welcomed Doodley Squat’s cartoons.
And surprise, surprise, it is almost four years ago to the day.
Which means it was Easter time and my daughters and I were just about to head off for a holiday on the Mornington Peninsula.
At the time, I was more worried about Ayla gorging herself full of chocolate (which of course she did, resulting in my eldest regurgitating her Easter eggs with some genuinely explosive velocity).
However, what I didn’t expect was to be pulling up, tyres screeching, outside a perfectly manicured home in Dromana on the way home so little Maya could projectile vomit all the fish and chips, the porridge she had for breakfast and I don’t know how many chocolate eggs all over the green lawn.
Followed by me driving away as fast as I could before anyone noticed.
Every Easter, I have flashbacks to that vomit-filled vacation.
So this column comes at a most opportune time. And sadly, four years on, it remains relevant as ever.
Without further ado, here is the first Mama Mayhem-Doodley Squat colloboration (April 3, 2017).
●I HAVE been mentally preparing myself for the insane annual madness that is Easter at my house.
When my girls inevitably turn into hyperactive monkeys after gorging themselves with as much chocolate as they can fit into their mouths.
Hopefully, my 10-year-old Ayla has learnt from the past.
She may reconsider having chocolate eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner after spewing up pure chocolate last Easter Sunday.
I don’t think it tasted as good on the way up.
Ayla is certainly her mother’s daughter.
When I was young, most of my chocolate was gone by lunchtime.
My sister, on the other hand, would savour hers — taking tiny bites out of it before putting it back in the refrigerator.
And I would have to look at that damn never-ending chocolate egg every time I opened the fridge.
For what seemed like forever.
My youngest Maya likes to savour her chocolate too (because she knows it may be a long time before she gets another one).
It infuriates Ayla though, because she has to watch her little sister indulge in her favourite sweet when hers are all gone.
I’m looking forward to that and the pleasant exchanges that are sure to follow.
This year I have also planned a weekend trip for the three of us.
We’re heading to the Mornington Peninsula, a first for us all, so I’m pretty excited.
Probably more about the destination than the journey though.
Road trips can be fun, as long as everyone is kept entertained.
When I was young, our family road trips consisted of reading books and looking out the window.
My girls thought ‘looking out the window’ was particularly hilarious.
For them, they cannot get in the car — even if it’s a five-minute drive to the shops — without their music.
They both have iPods and headphones so at least there are no fights about what music they (we) have to hear.
However, it means I have to listen to two girls singing (or rather trying to) at once — Maya belting out Adele’s Hello at the top of her lungs and Ayla’s version of the Bob Dylan classic Hurricane (for the 400th time).
Considering it’s a four-hour drive, I may need to invest in some noise-cancelling headphones.
I guess I can’t really talk.
Every Good Friday, I play Jesus Christ Superstar (the 1970 rock opera) as loud as I can.
And considering I know the songs off by heart, I also sing as loud as I can.
And the girls are not to disrupt me during my 90-minute reprise.
Then they have to console me at the end of the musical when Jesus dies on the cross.
It’s my Easter tradition and I’m sticking to it.
MORE MAMA MAYHEM
Sydney swimming flashbacks still haunt me
Bad timing for naked roof-jumping ‘Spiderman'
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