It’s Mother’s Day here and everywhere else in the world that didn’t already do it in March. I was going to do a nice leisurely breakfast for Mrs 6000, but instead, I’m going to drive to Wellington at some ungodly hour and drop some kids off for a hiking competition. They can walk back. After all, that’s kinda the point, right?
We’ll do lunch instead, ok?
This post is just to say a big thank you to all the Mums out there who do an amazing and – all too often – unrecognised job at being the glue that holds families together, the giver of hugs and love, and the organisation behind everything from school uniforms to playdates to toilet rolls for school projects, and (more often than not) all while holding down a full time job.
Mrs 6000 also has to deal with a beagle. And me.
You’re all awesome. Thank you, Mums.
“Actually,” as the old joke goes, “it’s pronounced ‘quiche'”.
But this really is a quickie, just to fill some space on the blog because today has been hectique. Mother’s Day celebrations went well (I think); there was a trip to a popular DIY store and a building site in Observatory before we had lunch at a steak place in Newlands (you know the one) and then all the other weekend jobs got done when we got home. Nearly.
It’s left very little time for blogging. I did put some more photos in the Shamwari Day 2 album yesterday though, so if this hasn’t sated your thirst for all things 6000, maybe head over here and have a look at them.
Cooking blogs are all the rage and who am I not to jump on the bandwagon?
Having decided to “invite” Mrs 6k and her mother around for Mother’s Day lunch, I asked what I should cook for them. My wife thought for a moment and then said that she would prefer something “not too fancy” and suggested something using just one pot “like a paella”. I’ve been married to Mrs 6k for over 7 years now and I am well versed in picking out her subtle hints. Still, it’s important to realise that I’m still my own man. So, taking everything into account, I decided to make a paella.
Never having made a paella before, I quickly taught myself Spanish before heading to the internet and asking that trusted source of pukka recipe goodness, Mr James Oliver. His straightforward, step-by-step instructions took me though the previously unknown vagaries of cocina española, thus.
I don’t have a paella pan, so I made do with a wok, doing my bit and cementing sino-Spanish relations. And it went quite well, if I say so myself. The best bit is that we have about half of it left (simply because of the volume, not because anyone turned their nose up in disgust), so that’s lunch sorted for a few days ahead.
So, my advice to you. If you want to make a paella and you have a wok: do it.
This being Mother’s Day, I have been snowed under with cooking posh meals for Mum and for Granny and then generally tidying up after the whirlwind that is our three-year-old son, who decided he wanted to spend as much of Mother’s Day with his Mum as possible and therefore woke up at [stupid] o’clock and spent the rest of the day creating mess.
Once again, I am exhausted and that’s one of the reasons why you are getting this quota photo.
That’s a view from a hospital window looking down across Cape Town’s CBD as dawn broke on the day Alex was born. It was nice watching the sun coming up on that momentous day – I didn’t often get to see sunrises back then. Alex wasn’t actually born until three in the afternoon, but there was a false alarm and I ended up going up round Hospital Bend at 150kph at five in the morning. Pity help the Ad Wizard if he finds himself in the same situation tomorrow when Mrs Ad Wizard is due to pop out their first one, firstly because he’ll be going the wrong way and secondly because they’ve got speed cameras on there now.
It’s amazing how much our lives have changed since that day. And while you try to explain it to people who aren’t yet parents, it’s not really possible. I don’t mean that condescendingly, because people tried to explain it to us and now I appeciate that we didn’t really get it either. It’s like passing your driving test, but bigger. It’s like getting married, but bigger. And nothing can prepare you for it. Not even going round Hospital Bend at 150kph at five in the morning.
(That’s probably not great preparation for your driving test either, by the way).
Best of luck with it all, Mr and Mrs Ad Wizard. You’re about to find out just what it is that I can’t explain.