Mum's Make-up Draw - Every little girl's dream

We were about to go out for a family outing one day and I had been exploring Mum and Dad’s bathroom, particularly Mum’s draw, the one with all the make-up in it to be exact. We use to be part of a dance group where we would compete and thus that only being the time someone had put make-up on around me because Mum never did. The most I ever saw Mum put on (and still to this day) would be a quick bit of lipstick and a dash of the mascara brush as we all impatiently waited in the car before going into the restaurant for dinner (or breakfast, or lunch…we liked to eat out). So I had found the treasure trove that was Mum’s make-up draw. Brilliant. So as I was having a glorious time trying out all these new things that I had never seen mum use, Dad called

“Alright! Who’s ready to go?”

I jumped. Whoops. I was completely in my own little world of painting my face I had completely forgotten that we were going out. I ran to my room to grab my jacket and met everyone at the front door. Then, Dad came walking down the hallway, he must have gone to use the bathroom whilst I was grabbing my jacket.

“Hold on everyone,” Dad said as he sat on the pew (yes, we had an old church pew in our house) near the front door and gathered us together. “Have any of you been playing with Mum’s make-up?” he asked.

Oh dear. 

“No.” Said Rachel, my oldest sister.

I tried to gauge how angry Dad was.

“No.” Said Anna, the second oldest

Was this a get in trouble thing? 

“Not me,” said Emily, the third oldest. I was next.

Uh-oh. I couldn’t tell if this was a bad thing or not. I went with the safe option. Plead innocent until proven guilty.

“Wasn’t me,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. 

Dad stared at me. Could he really see through my very awesome lie? Didn’t I look innocent?

“Are you sure it wasn’t you, Brooke?” Dad said again.

I wavered. Maybe he knew. Was I that obvious? I didn’t know what to do. 

“Well, I just tried some stuff on…” I admitted. 

“You left everything out on the counter,”

Yes?

“Oh,” I said. Because I really didn’t know what else to say.

“Could you go and put it away before we leave?”

Phew. It wasn’t a bad thing. Although man did I feel such dread. I felt so bad. 

I cleaned up the mess and we went off to wherever it was we were going. The memory stops there. And I look back now and realise that Dad, and everyone else, would have know exactly who it was because my face would have been covered in make-up. Whoops. I think I learnt to be more sneaky after that. At least, I certainly hope so.

Memories of Childhood

So now starts a new journey of writing down my childhood memories. I have been convicted. I have been hit by the realisation that I was writing to be published, not writing to enjoy and grow in the art of writing. How silly of me. Sometimes it takes time for these things to sink it. This one in particular took a good 2 years I think. Well, sooner rather than later, hey? Here is the first piece I have written:

The Supermarket:

   Outings to the supermarket were definitely a good time. There was always a chance you could go on the merry go ‘round for 20c (which has now been replaced by some thomas the tank engine one that cost s whole $2! Talk about a ripoff) or the back of the shopping trolly, or the side, or the other side and sometimes on the very, very rare occasion which I almost don’t mention seeing as they were so rare but they were some of the most joyous times that I cannot help it - the times when we could ride in the trolly itself. Oh yes. This was when you knew you had made it. You had truly worked the manipulation magic and you could glory all the food items on your own moving throne. All the other kids would look on jealously (not really) and parents would look at you quite impressed by you skills (that’s what I like to think) and you would grin at your sisters and brother because they had lost and you had brilliantly just won. However this was only one of the perks of going to the supermarket with Mum, (Dad I don’t think would have the patience to take all of us to the store) the other was the game of seeing what you could sneak through the check out. Not as in stealing, I do not think my innocent mind ever thought of stuffing my pockets purposefully. So in would go the chocolate bars, marshmallows, cereal (they were such big boxes that is was always rare to get one of these through), pens and pencils, lifesavers and fruit tingles, tiny teddies and the glorious tim tams. You had to learn how to carefully cover them whilst in the trolly with the ham, bread and juice, so that Mum wouldn’t see them whilst casually throwing in another roll of toilet paper. Then came the very hard part, getting those little gold nuggets through the checkout. You would offer to help stack the things onto the conveyer belt, hiding them appropriately, waiting with abated breath while the check-out lady or gentleman would pick it up to scan, hoping that mum was looking the other way whilst he or she did so. And even then celebration had to be held off as your treat landed its way into the plastic bags because you still hadn’t been quite successful as there was always the chance that you forgot what bag it was in and when you were home and unpacking the groceries someone would find it and point it out to mum and you were done for. Either mum would hold your treat that you had worked so hard for hostage until you cleaned your room or something equally as mean and laborsome or she would be so exhausted from taking 4 or 5 kids to the store that you got it. So really, it was completely and utterly worth it because you always got your treat (or treats) in the end. 

   I asked mum as I was writing this if she noticed us putting things in the shopping cart pretty much every time and to my shock she said no. 

   “I would notice it every now and then and sometimes I even let it pass but most of the time I wouldn’t notice at all.”

   Man, we were so good. We had skills I tell you. I wonder if that’s something I should mention in a job interview. I know I’d be impressed because it’d be not only finding a kindred spirit but someone who also has some great skills in sneakiness and manipulation. Okay…maybe not the best thing to mention in job interviews.