The ‘real-deal’ Mary Poppins visited my house last week.
Sure – her hair was a short, spiky, shade of crimson and she left according to her watch (not a wind change) but she saved my ass in the most delightful way.
I, (AKA Mrs Banks), was elbows deep in sugar. Crap was strewn from one end of the house to the other as I endeavoured to sort through utility bills from the 90’s and old 21st invitations that I clearly once believed were essential to hold onto. Packing up boxes, finding accommodation and relocating our lives interstate was enough stress, without the assistance of my two little, toddling sweeps – following along behind me, ‘re-organising’ piles and ‘relocating’ items from one box to another.
I realised early on that I would need help and screamed from the chimneys; who knew a good cleaner to help with my final sweep?
Now; hold it right there!! This is NOT a review or advertisement. I swear. This is pure heart and bloody great soul, people.
A friend recommended a lady.
I texted.
We connected/arranged/confirmed.
Then she asked to pop around (a week prior) to check out the job, as she was in the area.
My instinct shouted ‘NO’!
The house was diabolical with homeless, unidentified cables, possibly important receipts and my son’s latest passion, toilet roll craft, on every available surface. I was frightened she might just run for the hills.
As I yanked my daughters hair into lopsided devil horns (mmm…quite appropriate at the moment) the doorbell rang; I swiped at a few spider webs down the hallway, wiped them down my ‘leisure wear’ (otherwise known as my ‘I may or may not have just gone to the gym clothes and you will never know’) pants, and answered the door.
No pointy umbrella. Rather a nifty van.
Her compact carpetbag was replaced by a sporty backpack.
Her immaculate grooming was now in the form of comfortable shoes and a t-shirt.
But her cheery disposition and rosy cheeks was all Mary.
She sought out the element of fun in the cleaning chore and declared it all good.
But WAIT! There was more….
My Mary, a complete stranger (though recommended by a friend, remember) was between gigs in my suburb, so she offered to stay out of the goodness of her heart. Yes; you read that correctly.
Did I look stressed?
Was I elbow deep in shite?
Had my poor darlings had their daily quota of screen time by 10am?
Hell yes!!!
Was I tempted?
Hell yes!
“No, no. Please; go have a coffee, relax, read the paper,” I implored.
But she kindly and gently persisted.
“I can play games and watch your kids for you, ” she suggested.
Micheal’s eyes lit up.
“Can you do craft?” he exhaled.
Jane, not to be outdone, spluttered, “Poo, wee??!”
And with that, Mary Poppins grabbed the tub of clag.
And I trusted her.
(And for all you doubters out there, I could see and hear her at all times.)
I worked my butt off for an hour and Mary Poppins guided Jane and Michael on the intricacies of pipe cleaners and sticky taping. They were in raptures…as was I.
And a lark! A spree! It’s very clear to me….(Who actually EVER knew they were the real lyrics in Spoonful of Sugar”????)
I discovered something powerful.
There are truly beautiful, kind and generous people in our world.
I was just lucky that this Mary Poppins found her way to my doorstep on that particular day.
She really was SUPERcalifragilisticexpialidocius!!!
(and if you’re not singing along right now; I don’t know you!)
I have linked this piece up with :
