I threw my attention at Elsie. She was refusing to put her leg through her overalls as I tried to dress her.
"Come on, little Elle." She didn't budge. I wondered why she was doing this, did she prefer not to be dressed, or to have me leave her to get dressed on her own. I had no clue but this baby was driving me wild. The list of things that excite me at the moment are exactly zero.
Firstly, what I was doing now was getting Elsie ready for her first check-up. Mum had volunteered to take her today so I could clean her nursery, ", and while you're at it, perhaps you could do the rest of the house." I sank back into the chair. Because after I had finished cleaning, I was scheduled to pick up groceries, look for a new car and possibly even a new shop. Twenty-four hours isn't enough for one day, someone should change it. I'm sure if everyone in the world agreed, then we could. Just be grateful for what you have, Anna would have said.
So I passed Elsie, who was now fully dressed after our small battle, to my mother and she trailed off down the driveaway, unlocked the car, and fitted Elsie into her baby seat. I waved them goodbye as they reversed down the hill and then slammed the door back inside. I wasn't angry or anything; the door always slams, it's a heavy door.
The first thing I did back in Elsie's nursery is pick up all of the things that she had thrown onto the ground, there were a lot of those. Rattles, stuffed toys, my scrunchies from when she had somehow torn those off my wrist. That all got gathered into a basket. Then I proceed to go and get the broom, I sweep. That took a while.
Once I had collected all of the dust particles into a pan, thrown them out and put the broom away, I went to go and find the mop. Now, the mopping was somewhat more exciting than the brooming. I do some impromptu dancing while I polish all of the floors in the house. Down the halls, into the rooms, across the kitchen. Suddenly, the washing machine sounded, it had done it's cycle. Mum never told me that she had clothes in the machine, perhaps she thought it would be better to leave that one as a surprise. I heave the laundry out of the machine and into the woven basket. We took a walk down to the clothing line. The air was fresh on this particular morning. I placed the basket down on the soft grass and it sat steadily. Hold the clothes to the line, then peg. Hold, peg. Hold, peg. Sometimes I even had to pray that they wouldn't fall off; I'm not a regular with laundry.
The basket was held tightly along the outside of my hip as I walked back through the door. That's when my phone began to ring. I placed the basket back onto the counter and ran after it. There was a moment where I thought I might not get to it in time, but I managed.
"Hello, it's Tara," I pressed it against my ear, it was cold and smooth in my hands.
"Hey Tara," I recognise that voice. It was a little deep and raspy. It was recent to my voice memory bank.
Me: "Cafe boy?"
Him: "It's, um, Myles actually."
Me: "Oh yes of course,"
Him: "Anyway, I'm just ringing because you said you owe me." I hear him laugh.
Me: "Right! Well I can't at the moment because my mum's going to be back and I have to feed the baby when she does so."
Him: "Your baby?"
Me: "Not my baby. Well, sort of. She was my sister's."
Him: " Oh, your sister. She was the one that was in labour the other day when you...nevermind. How is she?" I froze.
Me: "She...well...Anna..."
Him: "It's okay, you don't have to." I guess he could sense my hurt through the phone.
