Under The Stars

We took all the children to an outdoor cinema for the first time this month. It was a lovely evening, a cool breeze, but a warm night. A big inflatable screen, a kid's movies, the sunset, followed by the moon and the stars, a van selling popcorn up the back and banana lounges for hire, which were so comfy.

We packed a big rug for the kids to sit on, plenty of water, warm clothes, a blanket and cushion each. Unfortunately the food trucks that were meant to provide us dinner didn't show up, so I sped off down the road and grabbed a few pizzas instead.

There is something particularly majikelle about having my family all close together at night that fills my heart. I think it evokes memories of being loved and safe as a child, drifting off to sleep in the back of the car on a long road trip. I remember as a child looking forward to one day creating a family of my own and creating that sense of belonging for my children. I often get this wonderful warm feeling when I'm driving us all home in the middle of the night. Everyone is so close in the car, it's dark outside, the children sleeping peacefully or nodding off and then some private time with Ealesy...it's my favourite time to talk...or rather to dream aloud about the future we're creating (not unlike how I used to think about it in the backseat as a child). I was filled with that sense of loving wonder while at the nighttime cinema.

It is one of those moments when you realise that your arms are nowhere near as big as your heart. I had an urge to hold all of them at once...but my arms just aren't long enough. Nevertheless, I could feel them all being held firmly in my heart. Most of the time I'm so swept up in surviving the day, that I forget to feel. It's refreshing to be uprooted from the everyday and find yourself in a moment outside of time, looking in at all that you have...

And as quick as it came, the moment is broken by the shriek of tired toddler, growling "boobee" and trying to rip your breasts out of your shirt in a public space and as you urge her to quiet down, you catch the scent of what you know will be an epic dump in the baby's pants. That's when you realise you forgot to pack the baby wipes. But before too long you're driving all the people you made, home in the middle of the night, listening to the sounds of their slumber while poking fun at the movie with your best mate in the passenger seat.