Mothering teenage boys is a puzzle.

I want to write today about being a mum to a teenage boy.

My first born was 15 a few weeks ago, and, I feel the same way I did on his first birthday. On his first birthday I cried, and held him all day. It was a multi layered cry, on one level I was relieved that we had barely survived the first year, he was growing out of the baby stage. I wept harder though, when I thought about how he wasn’t the baby anymore, that my arms would get lighter from here on out. I cried in celebration because it was our day, his birthday, and my birthing day.

This year on his 15th birthday I cried. I cried because our relationship is evolving and my arms and heart are aching for my little boy that always wanted my attention, that little boy love for his mumma. I would stand for hours watching him bowl a ball. Now he goes out into the yard on his own to practice cricket. For the little boy that would always yell out to me, just so he knew where I was at all times. For the little boy that would cuddle me just because he wanted to, now I have to place his arms around my neck. He is moving out into the world and doing things that he doesn’t need me for. He organised work experience with Queensland Cricket at Albion, which meant he had to catch two trains to get there and then walk to the fields. He was completely confident and excited to be doing this on his own. My husband and I took him the first two days and he was mortified. The third day, I sat drinking endless coffee, in my back yard staring at my phone waiting for him to call me; when he changed trains, when he arrived at Albion station, when he clocked on at work. I was more worried on that day than the day I sent him off to school. At school, the staff have to care about the students, keep them safe. Putting him on a public train, and off to work in the big wide world, where no one really cares, was scary. He was totally fine and completely nailed his work experience – the whole experience, not just the work part. But getting ready, arriving on time, being responsible.

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Date day. (I look impressed don’t I)

 

He also has a girlfriend who he wants to spend more and more time with. This is honest to god killing me. I want my little family with me at all times when I have the weekend off (which is not often). He is now wanting to go and watch her play sport and spend weekends with her. Last weekend they had a “date day”. He watched her play sport and then her family dropped them at a local beach town. My boy took his girl for lunch at a burger restaurant, splurged on ice cream, and they hung out on the beach. I actually had tears in my eyes talking to my husband about this situation. The conversations in our house are now revolving around not blowing allllllll of your money that you work for, on a girl. This conversation does not go down well. This also hurts my heart because I want to be supportive, but, am finding this teenage, first love situation stressful, and hard to navigate so that I don’t look like the bitchy mum.

The no secret rule in our house is one we have preached since we tied the knot. We always try to be open and honest in an age appropriate way with the boys. At the moment that includes lots of talk about how to treat a girl, how to be respectful. We have had the; having babies at your age will completely ruin your life conversation. We have been focussing a lot on talking to him about choices and the wrong ones will send you in a down ward spiral, how at this point in your life the world is your oyster. This was cemented last week when my boy and I had to meet at the school to decide his “pathway” through the next two years at school. My husband has been spending a lot of time with him, and his brother fishing in their little boat, surfing, riding skate boards, and mountain bikes, and four wheel driving, re-enforcing in his soul that we are always here for him, and that there is always opportunity for conversation when hanging out with dad. I feel a bit left out at the moment with all of the boy activity going on. There is a definite shifting, I feel like we are puzzle pieces that haven’t clicked into place yet, that we know we belong together, but just have to find our place. I do feel like I am grieving for the little boy days, when my husband and I were the only important people in his orbit. When the most important thing I was teaching him was how to brush his teeth or that a banana is a better choice than a chocolate.

As I sit here writing this my boy is on school survival camp. We are old pro’s at school camp, Montessori kids start going to camp in prep (prep camp is a one night sleep over at the school). This year is different again as I feel like this is a big test for him, with choices that he makes and how he behaves on camp. I am missing him a lot more than usual. And my advice to him when he got out of the car was

“Love you, have fun, learn lots, try and stay warm, don’t get any one pregnant.”

Him “OH MY GOD…MUM!!!”

Continue reading “Mothering teenage boys is a puzzle.”

Post 100

Post 100

I made it…………………………….100 posts. What a relief that is over. I am glad I did the 100 posts but feel as though an invisible weight has been lifted now the 100 posts are done. Thanks to everyone that has read and supported my writing, I love and appreciate you and the time that you spent reading. I wasn’t sure how I was going to end my 100 posts but I want to tell you about an experience I had yesterday.

My husband’s phone blared its annoying alarm through our camper trailer at 4.20am. I rolled over and buried myself in the blankets and said “not today”.

“Yep, come on you wanted to do this, up you get.”

It was dark and the usually busy streets of Byron Bay were deserted. Street lights were on and neon lights were lit above the motels throughout town. We made our way up the hill, commenting on the amount of people running at this early hour, up such a steep hill. We parked the car at the closest car park and walked up the hill. It was blowing a gale, I was carrying my camera and phone and was rugged up in jeans and jumper.

We were just about at the top and I wanted to take a photo of the lighthouse in the dark with my new camera. I turned it on and click not working. Shit. One main reason I wanted to come up here was to get a photo of that. I was so annoyed with myself, I kept walking but was ranting about how it could have a flat battery and disappointed that I would have to take photos with my phone. We reached the top, after watching one of the runners that I had commented on while we drove up the hill, pass us on her way back down the hill. We sat down in a little alcove of the lighthouse out of the wind and watched the sky. I started playing with my camera, because I was still baffled and annoyed at how it could have a flat battery. I looked up and the sky had changed colour. I handed my husband my camera and went to the fence surrounding the light house and took a photo with my phone. As I sat down the light from my phone lit up my camera. My husband pointed out to me that I had in the dark put the camera on the wrong setting that is why it wasn’t taking photos. I was relieved and got up and started clicking away at the first light of the day. I sat in the arms of my husband, my back to his chest and watched the sky change colour again and again. I felt so blessed to be the only ones on the most eastern point of Australia, leaning up against an icon of the Country that was built 115 years ago to guide ships and protect the shore. As the sun started to rise, the crowds at the lighthouse started to rise. At one point my husband said to me “you better go and grab a spot at the fence if you want to see it”. I stood against the white wood and metal fence, with my husband at my back, listening to people from all over the world chatting to each other, I watched them taking selfies and posting to social media. Now don’t get me wrong I posted my pictures last night to social media but at the time it didn’t feel right. I am not particularly religious, I do like to go to Christmas Eve mass, but that’s about it. But with my feet firmly planted on the ground, standing in silence and watching such a colourful and majestic sight as the rising of the sun, for me sent goose bumps over my skin, my heart felt so much love and I had tears on my cheeks. It felt like more than a new day, it felt like a new beginning, a fresh start.

Post 99

Post 99

In nearly 100 posts, lots has happened. Winter to summer, school to school holidays, I was at the peak of working hard on my marriage.  Now we are still working on it but not in such an acute I love you but really do hate you way. Now it’s more of an I love you and can say to your face that you shit me kinda way and know we can talk about it.  I have learnt that emotions are what they are, and just to feel it. I had some really shit days in the beginning and fought them, there was one particular day that was really shit and I just laid out on my bed and felt it, it was awful and painful and I wailed. There have been other days that I have loved so deeply that I have felt that experience imbed in my bones. I am much more grateful for the people in my life, and I love them so. Still things I am scared of – like sharing my writing.

I have discovered that I love photography. I always did like taking a snap shot, so when my husband spent his tax refund dollars on a beautiful camera for me, I swore that that beauty would be used every day. I have discovered that I like the small details in a subject. A face, hands, eyes. I was taking photos of the beach the other day and they were nice, but it was just another beach. Then I sat down, squatted down and  laid down on the beach and took photos of the dune grass, the ghost crabs, seagulls, rocks, shells, jelly fish, blue bottles. At the Byron Bay light house I was photographing the blocks that made the lighthouse, the windows, the doors, the glass, the letterbox. My husband’s hands were an extremely popular post on my Instagram and received more comments and likes than any other post from this holiday. In saying all of this though, I still am not comfortable taking a selfie with just me in the frame.

I have become observant of my experiences, surroundings and people. I have become observant of conversations and what has been said. Some days I feel a bit creepy and purposely leave out some experiences because I don’t want to overstep the line. However, the more scary and emotional and cleansing the post was for me the more open, real, honest and raw I was with my writing seemed to be popular with my loyal readers.

One more post and I have done my 100, it wasn’t in the time that I wanted to do it, so feel that is a bit of a fail. But big wins for me was that I was published in one of my fave magazines Womankind. And, I had the privilege of interviewing awesome women and want to continue to do so and be a collector of women’s stories.

Post 98

Post 98.

“Oh your boy’s are so independent, I was watching you set up your site yesterday and was envious of you and your hubby. The boy’s jumped out of your car and went and found their friends and you two laughed and worked together putting together your camp site.” This was said to me by the lady across the road from our site that I met last year. Her and her husband have been travelling the east coast of Australia with their three year old in a van and a caravan. No more to be said really, the poor love has a threenager, who is absolutely gorgeous but is an unholy terror,  living in a caravan. That is why she was feeling envious.

The boys did run and find their friends, but once they came back to ask for food they were advised that they should set up their tent before dark. One said no he wanted to hang out with mates, the other one started unpacking the tent because he wasn’t doing it in the dark.

They have been given a little more freedom this year, they have hang out on the beach with friends but must get us if they want to go in the water. They were allowed to walk to the tea tree creek. Boy one learnt a hard lesson, he was showing off and tried a trick that didn’t work and landed wrong and hurt his ribs and abdo muscles.

“I am making sandwiches and smoothies for lunch.” I had two responses of cool thanks and one of “No thanks I am going for a walk.” Dishes done, sitting reading a book I hear from down the street coming towards me.

“Mum I am starving can you make me lunch?”

“No, I made lunch, you didn’t want it, you can make or cook something”

“What!!! I don’t cook!”

So we had a cooking lesson, I sat and watched and directed and he cooked. He lit the gas burner, collected all the ingredients for macaroni cheese. And cooked his own lunch.

They were told they could bring $10 for the lolly shop and that was it, they had to look after the money and spend it wisely. First day one of them goes to the shop, thinking he knows best and loses $5.00 out the bottom of the pocket in his shorts because he didn’t want to use his wallet.

They have both been responsible with checking in and asking if they are able to leave the park for the beach or the headland. Last night they asked if they could stay out until 9.00pm, to hang with friends at another camp site. We said yes but had to definitely be home by 9.00pm. One of them came home at 8.58pm then other 9.31pm. The one that was late doesn’t get to go out tonight.

Lots and lots of lessons being learnt these holidays.

Post 97

Post 97

We are on holidays. We are at the beach camping. We are living in a camper trailer with an outside kitchen. The toilet and shower block is across the road and a hill from our site, the beach is four tent sites down our little street and across the roundabout, the bush walking track is the same way as the beach but swing a right up the hill once you go over the roundabout and there is a path that leads over the headland. The office/lolly and ice cream shop is next to the bush walking track. The park is at our back door and can see the picnic tables through the trees when we sit at our dining table. The park is small enough that the boys can wonder, but large enough that I don’t feel like I am sharing someone’s tent with them.

I love this time of year for us, we relax and this is our happy place. For a while now I have felt restless and wanted to travel abroad. I have wanted to see other places and cultures. I had a conversation with an 85 year old lady that was holidaying in a caravan next to us. She was telling me that she had been coming here for 50 years. This was where her and her husband honeymooned, how they drove down a dirt track and camped in a tent. That there was one shower for women and one for men, and she hated the line-up. She told me how her 3 daughters grew up here on school holidays and her 11 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild are doing the same. She told me how they book out 5 camp sites over Easter for 10 days and the whole family holiday together, everyone cooks, surfs, fishes, walks together. There are people coming and going all day, every day. She told me how her and her husband struggled to put their girls through school, they had hard times and good. There has been sickness, arguments, weddings, and births. But they always holiday together at Easter and Christmas school holidays the couple are here for three weeks on the same sight they have booked for 30 years. She told me that last weekend the majority of the family showed up. This wasn’t organised she said everyone wanted to check on the couple. She said she sat at the plastic fold out table with her daughters and a granddaughter eating fresh fish caught by her husband and she told me how grateful she was to have a beautiful family.

I cried, she rubbed my hand and said you will have the same darling.

Post 96

Post 96

For this post I flicked through the dictionary and the word that came up for me was “Uncomfortable” – adjective

  • Causing or feeling slight pain or physical discomfort.
  • Causing or feeling unease or awkwardness.

I was a bit miffed actually that this was the word that appeared to me. I was hoping for a word that I had never heard of. Something intelligent, or a word that sounded lovely or something with deep meaning. So I sat with the word rattling around in my head.

Then I got to thinking about the meaning and how I had experienced some unease and awkwardness over the last few days.

In post 94 I wrote about a road trip that I had done with my little family. We drove 566 kilometres to collect my first born. He had been holidaying with my dad for the first week of his school holidays. I was agitated and a little cranky the whole drive out. See it is the first time that I have slept in the same house as my Dad and his partner since he left our family when I was 14. We have had dinner and lunch a couple of times and I never find it a pleasant experience. When we finally arrived at my dad’s place he was ecstatic to see us. I was glad to see him but extremely uncomfortable. Thankfully there are hot springs in the town at the aquatic centre so after a quick hello and grabbing my kid we fled to the water. The look on dads face told me that he was a bit hurt that I was running away so quickly. We went to the local Christmas carols and I honestly just couldn’t be myself. I kept comparing everything that was happening to when I was a child. I don’t remember him once taking us to anything remotely like carols. I could feel the resentment like a boulder in my chest, and I knew at the time my face and mannerisms weren’t polite. I struggled to engage in conversation with anyone, aside from my rock of a husband who could see how much I was struggling. Dad introduced us to his friends, and I smiled and nodded as politely as I could and discreetly left the conversation. It sounds so immature to be like this as a 37 year old woman, I just couldn’t stop the chatter that was in my head about that family driven childhood that I had wished for and only now being on the receiving end of it with my father and me as a wife and mother. The next morning after a sleepless night, I crept around in the dark, getting showered and packing my families belongings. I saw the surprise on my dad’s face that we were preparing to leave before 6.00am. These encounters with my dad and his partner that he left our family for, makes me lose my voice. I can talk for hours on the phone with my dad, but put me at a breakfast table with them and I may as well me choking on the food for the amount of ability I have in forming sentences. By the time we climbed in the car I was feeling sad for my dad. I knew he wanted more from me on this trip – I just couldn’t connect and be the daughter that he wanted over those couple of days. I was in a foul mood the whole seven hours home with unanswered questions running rampant.

This experience was followed two days later by another experience that caused unease and awkwardness. It was a job interview, I was interviewing to keep the job that I currently work in. I am great at my job (way to toot my own horn), I have 15 years experience doing the job. Yes I left it for a while but was still in the same type of job in the same field. I went into the interview with a dry mouth and a pounding heart. After I met the three women on the panel that I had never seen before and the chair of the interview asked the first question. All knowledge of my job evaporated from my brain. My actual thought was have I even done this job before. I took a deep breath and started rambling, I was pulling out words and examples from everywhere. At one point I think that I completely was off track but just kept using key words like team, experience, ethics, confidentiality, infection control, work place health and safety. This awkwardness went on for the five questions that was the whole interview and about half an hour. At the end, one of the ladies on the panel said “ok, you can breathe now”. I walked out feeling uneasy and like such a failure, and so pissed off. Annoyed with myself for not going into that office and being completely confident in the interview for a job that I know backwards. And pissed off with the whole situation. It pisses me off that it will be decided by someone that has never done my job – if I am capable of it and they are happy to give me a permanent position, that they get to decide if I get to keep my job so that I can put my kids through school. I was frustrated with myself on the drive home that I hadn’t made better choices and made myself a bit more uncomfortable and got out of my comfort zone so that I wouldn’t be in this position.  That perhaps I could’ve spent my precious time on an endeavour of my own, where I get to decide what is right for me and my family.

As I thought more about the word uncomfortable, the more that I realised that the more unease and awkward I feel the more I grow and change. The more I want to grow and change so that the unease and awkwardness at that moment is replaced and I can move onto more unease and awkward situations. Sounds uncomfortable doesn’t it.

Post 94

Post 94

We have just walked in the door from a two day road trip to pick up boy 1. He went to stay with my dad in Western Queensland for his first week of school holidays. The trip was about 7 hours travelling. The roads are long, the weather is hot, hot 43 degrees hot, my legs got sunburnt in the car and I was still sweating even though we had the air-con blasting. We saw more road trains on the road, than cars and the land looked as though it would self-combust. We drank 2 litres of water each on the way out, we stopped for a picnic because I refused to buy take-away and then sit in the car and feel bloated and sick, we stopped for lamingtons that are supposed to be famous for the area. I found them two big and a bit dry. We stopped in one of the major towns along the way and visited my sister and niece while they waited for their car to have a service. We walked to the pub on the corner on a melting road, the newly renovated pub had the air-con set to the perfect temperature and an Elderberry gin spritzer went down easily.

We got to my dad’s and my son nearly bowled me over with enthusiasm that I hadn’t seen in him for a long time. He wanted to spend some time with just his father and I for a while. We went to the Great Artesian Spa, and had a soak in the thermal mineralised artesian waters. We were the only ones in the aquatic centre and after getting into the pool, we knew why. It was as hot in the water as out of the water. However we paid $24 for the 3 of us to get in, so we were getting our money’s worth. We switched between the hot pool and the cooler pool, the first few minutes that we floated around in the water was actually relaxing to float in after a hot 7 hour drive. Until road trains full of cattle heading into the store sales in the next town started flying down the street directly past the pool.

After this we headed back to my dad’s place, a fair bit later than we said we would be. He wanted to take the boys to Christmas in the park. Which was as we found out; a sausage sizzle, raffle, bar, and school kids singing Christmas carols. Nice for the town folk, who being country people are extremely friendly, welcoming and will happily chat to a city slicker. But not something that we would go to where we live. I sat and listened to the carols with my husband on a park bench, slowing sipping a beer and watched the locals mingle, after nearly every single person I met said “oh you must be …………………………. (insert my middle sisters name)” “ahh no” and then the awkward “oh, we haven’t heard about you, where are you from”?

Me being my introverted self, felt almost claustrophobic watching everyone. Everyone knew everyone, everyone chatted and caught up and then moved on to the next group of people. This would seriously give me anxiety if I lived here and knew every time I walked down the street I would see someone I know. I definitely like living where I have my core people and everyone else is a stranger.

Post 89

Post 89

I asked a Instagram group that I am apart of to give me some topics to write about one of them was

Mom life tips (I know Aussies spell it Mum)

Where to begin!!!!

Always follow your own instincts. You are the vessel in which your babe has come from. You are the one that knows what is best for your child. From conception you have mother instincts, follow them.

The moment you find out you’re pregnant mother guilt sets in. On some days that bitch will kick your ass. On other days you will be on top. It is a part of your mothering gift. Don’t worry about it. It means you care.

Everyone and their mother will have an opinion on what you should be doing, when and how. Only pick out the advice that you need, don’t try and do every. single. thing.

When I had my first boy everyone would say “sleep when the baby sleeps” this drove me effing crazy, because my kid never slept. And when he was asleep I would have a shower or throw a load of clothes in the washing machine, while the whole time thinking “I should be sleeping while he is sleeping”. But it equally stressed me out when I would quickly jump into bed and try and sleep when he slept. In the end I did what was right for me on that day.

Talk to other mums. Your mum, grandma, aunts, girlfriends, anyone. Have adult conversations, don’t always talk about the baby.

In our house we have always lived by the rule – there are no secrets in the house. This means answering all questions honestly and openly and being prepared for more hard questions. My boy’s are 14 and 11. So far it seems to be working. And sometimes I wonder if I am being too open and blunt with them.

If you have boys let them be boys. Let them move and climb and throw balls and ride skate boards and go fishing, light fires ( within reason), mow the grass, chop wood. Their basic instincts are to be Neanderthals, to use and develop gross motor skills.

From a young age teach boys to be gentlemen – I do not let mine swear in the house, from the time they learnt to talk they have been taught to use manners, they are to be respectful to women, they must always kiss and cuddle any women in their family hello and goodbye. They are my muscle if I need to move things or carry things.

Read to them and read widely. Lots of genres, books, magazines, newspapers.

Let them see emotion. My boys have seen me laugh, cry, grieve, be angry, they have seen their father and I argue and they have seen us apologise to each other.

Always know what is going on with them, ask specific questions like “who sat next to you at lunch time?” “give me an example of one thing you learnt at school today”

Love them every day. Every morning my boys have had a good morning kiss and cuddle. I read somewhere once that a mother should never be the first one to pull away from the embrace with their child. Let the child break it. I have lived by this because sometimes they just need to hold on for that little bit longer.

 

 

Post 88

Post 88

The feature photo is a dragon fruit cactus. Boy 2 has a diverse palate and will try absolutely anything that is put in front of him. He has a soft spot though for fruit. A friend of his bought a pink oval shaped fruit to school to show my boy. If you think of a pear it is a similar shape. The flesh of the fruit that boy 2 had a taste of was white with black seeds and has the consistency of a kiwi fruit. Apparently the dragon fruit that has its origins in Mexico, is full of numerous nutrients, including Vitamin C, phosphorus, calcium, fiber and is high in antioxidants. From the first spoonful my youngest boy loved dragon fruit. So much so that he wanted to start growing them. We live in a sub-tropical area and the medium to large cactus seems to grow well here.

We were travelling home from western Queensland and boy 2 was yelling at us to stop the car. Now my boy gets car sick so of course we pull over at a ridiculous speed, because we have been there and done that with vomit all through the car. He wasn’t car sick at all, there was a fruit shop on the side of the road with dragon fruit plants for sale out the front. So after the initial “are you kidding me” had worn off. My husband went and purchased my son two dragon fruit plants.

He has nurtured his plants, he has fertilized them, and watered them and at one point even built a bamboo fence around them to protect them from our dog. He has sculptured them so they now look like works of art.

In saying all of this and how delicious the fruit is and how artistic the plant looks, we found out recently that it can take up to six years for the plant to bear fruit. My boy has a long wait for his treasured fruit, but I am sure he will enjoy the first bight after all of his hard work.

Post 87

Post 87

 

Happy summer, December 1st. I love summer, I get excited about the heat and the energy and the movement of summer – like running across sand when it is burning my feet, racing into the ocean so my skin stops burning, the way I launch of the seat in the 1975 Valiant with vinyl seats when it fries the backs of my legs. School is finished, holidays are here, cricket is endless and days and weeks are spent at the beach. Skin is brown and our lifestyle feels healthy and active. We eat light food and eat it outside, we have bonfires and seek relief from the heat in the afternoon under big leafy trees. The days are longer and feels refreshing to wake up with the sun, I enjoy waking up in the heat, it’s a motivator for me to get out and get the day moving early. The feel of grass crunching under my feet, the baked feeling of clothes off the clothes line, the burn of my skin when I step outside, the refreshing feeling of drinking water to stay hydrated. Light and airy clothes, bikini’s and togs, thongs on my feet, fruit that is juicy and the essence of the seasonal delicacy runs down my arm as I bite into it. The excitement of Santa, the twinkling of Christmas lights, the white noise of the fan or air-con while trying to sleep.

Maybe I love all of this because I am a fire sign (I am not a big believer in all of that – because whenever I read any descriptions on being an Aries none of it sounds like me), but maybe the time, date and year of my birth is what puts the fire in my belly in summer and the heat makes me feel alive and refreshed. Because winter sends me in the opposite direction. I feel bogged down and heavy, the clothes, the food, and the short days. I feel myself starting to go into hibernation around my birthday in March

So cheers to summer.

 

Post 86

Post 86

Second last day of school for 2016 for boy 2 today. Today he formally says goodbye to, two of his closest friends, one that he has grown and had adventures with since he started at kindy when he was 18 months old. The other he has been at the same kindy and school the whole time but only became friends with about 3 years ago. My big, little guy, I call him this because he is as tall as me and has bigger feet than me but is still only 11 and the baby of the family. He is not a book learner, give him something to do with his hands or an activity or task where he can move around and he is keen to learn anything.   This is my boys nature, even as a toddler I would read to him and he would politely close the book, while I was reading it to him and walk away or just start playing with a toy that caught his attention. Ask him a mathematics question and he spills the answer without even thinking. We made a decision early on in primary school to keep him down a grade than where he should be at. I initially, felt extremely stressed over the decision but the stress was more my ego and fears about him socially than anything to actually do with my boy. He seemed at peace with the choice and has since started listing a number of positives, with being older than his class mates.  He is excited as he will be able to get his learners licence in year 10 and he will be able to drive himself to school by the middle of year 11. He is also pointed out that he will be 18 when he goes to schoolies. I recently asked him how he really felt about not moving onto high school next year and he said with a shrug of his shoulders “I’m glad”. He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t want to hound him.

He wrote his goodbye speech to the oldest of his friends, he was a bit stressed about it because he wanted it to sound worthy of his friend and their friendship. I asked him to bring it home so I could help him with it, but he wanted to do it on his own. He asked if he could get a haircut for the assembly today, his father took him to the barber yesterday and is looking incredibly handsome. When I woke this morning he asked if I could drop him at school early to practice his speech and be prepared for a meeting of next year’s seniors that was being held at 8.30am.

I have my tissues and camera packed in my hand bag for the 1.00pm event.

Post 85

 

Post 85

I am sitting in the Coffee club across the road from the tyre shop, where my car is currently being fitted with some new rubber. We are going to be doing a lot of driving over the next few weeks and we are able to claim the amount back from our salary sacrifice arrangement. So on go the new tyres on the first day of summer.

I dropped off boy 2 at school and went to boy 1’s school to drop off the school blazer that he has worn maybe twice,  to have the left pocket embroidered with the cricket and rugby union premiership awards for 2016. One of my most treasured friends is the school receptionist, so was a great excuse to have a chat with her. We once upon a time worked together. Mostly on night duty. We met at work in 2002. I had been working in outpatients for about a year, I was pregnant and had awful morning sickness , so I started at 11am, I walked through a big heavy security door in to the area this morning and was nearly bowled over by the new girl, who grabbed my arms, and in a frantic voice asked ” do you work here?”. And that’s were our friendship started.

My husband text me this morning and I said I was going to see her and drop off boy 1’s jacket, his response was ” I will ring and change the tyres to next week!”. He knows how much we can talk. Like seriously talk for hours and hours. Unfortunately she was at work and I couldn’t hang out at her desk for hours chatting like we did when we worked at the  same desk .

So I am sitting in coffee club, sipping on an iced latte. I don’t usually buy cold drinks, but well it’s day 1 of summer and about 33 degrees. Michael Buble and Mariah Carey singing Christmas carols are the soundtrack to my coffee stop .

Post 84

Boy 1 is not here for the week, he is sweating it out in western Queensland with my dad. He was keen to go and stay with my Dad for this week, I think he thought that if he went out bush he would be given a little more freedom and not have his nagging mother on his back.  Because that is all I feel like I have done the last few weeks as well. Constantly reminding him of homework, assignments, work, cricket, cricket training, wearing the correct uniform to school, stop wrestling with your brother, don’t talk back, blah, blah, blah.

No wonder the kid jumped in the back of my dad’s car and barely said goodbye, after I wrapped him in my arms for longer than he was comfortable with and peppered kisses all over his face. He is not a touchy, feely kid so this show of affection didn’t sit well with him. My arms and heart ached when they drove out of my driveway, I stood there in bare feet and my nightie – because that is how early they had to leave, and watched the silver V8 four wheel drive power down our street. I text and left several message on both of their phones that first day, but with limited service where they were going I didn’t receive an answer. I finally talked to my dad about 12 hours after they had left and my boy was in the shower. I reminded my dad that his eldest grandson loves a long, hot shower and to remind him not to use all the water. I got the usual “he’ll be right” from my dad. He has been gone 3 days now and I miss his energy and presence in the house. I miss his face and his demands. I talked to him this morning and my heart melted at hearing his voice. He was absolutely fine and his usual self. He was getting ready for the day and sounded too busy to talk, but I piled on the questions.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes”

“Have you been sleeping ok?”

“Yes”

“What are you doing today?”

“Changing tyres”

“Please remember to drink lots of water”

“Yes, its going to be 44 here on Saturday”

“I will ring you tonight from work”

“Ok, gotta go”

“ok love you lots”

“bye”

“Bye, mate, love you”.

Post 83

Post 83

Our block of land has trees absolutely overflowing with birds. All types of feathered friends, kookaburras, cockatoos, king parrots, magpies,
butcher birds, owls and lorikeets. It can get very noisy, colourful and a privilege to see so much wildlife hanging out at our home. I often stand with a cuppa coffee at the windows that line the back of our house and watch the crazy antics of the birds, from
a distance. From a distance because I don’t like birds anywhere near me, not just wild birds, I am the same with our chickens. I am happy to throw food over the fence but that is about it. The few times that I have had to feed them, in their pen I look like
a big bird flapping my wings and making enough noise that they will not come near me. The black chook despite my efforts to scare her still pecks my feet – what a bitch, I am feeding her for god sake. I remember as a child going to some sort of zoo or bird
sanctuary and being absolutely paralysed with fear, when a bird came near me.  

 

So imagine my absolute horror when at work I receive a photo and a text message to say that my eldest son has rescued a baby lorikeet that fell
out of its nest that was in a tree in our backyard. This one text set off a flurry of responses along the line of “get rid of the bird”, “you have to make a choice, it’s the bird or me”, “call someone qualified to look after your patient”. My whole work day
was  interrupted and I was freaking internally for my whole shift as my family kept torturing me with photos of their feathery friend. My children with the bird on their head, my husband with the biggest smile on his face holding the little green ball of feathers
and the caged bird in my living room. One that said I would break boy 2’s heart if I said it had to go. I sent one back saying I was willing to risk my kid having a broken heart.

 

I woke the next morning to the bird crying, I don’t know if birds cry but it sounded like it was crying for its mother. I am finished with crying
babies, and I hate birds so was not thrilled to be woken with the cries of a baby bird. For now I seem to have lost the battle of the bird and it is still living with us. I am trying to be nice to it, I did approach the cage twice to look at it and both times
it has shit all over the bottom of the cage. Maybe it’s as scared of me as I am of it.

Post 82

Post 82

If you follow my blog at all you know that I have coffee with the school mums on a Wednesday morning. Friday night we branched out and went out for Thai and cocktails and hot chocolate as dessert. My bestie is leaving us this week for the big smoke and a much cooler and hipper part of South East Queensland.  I called it the “we love you and will be stalking you in West End dinner” (this is not a goodbye). Eight of us dressed up, left husbands and kids at home, and carpooled to Kinn thai restaurant.

Eight mums on the loose with Thai and cocktails can get pretty rowdy, and oh what fun we had. We sipped on cocktails to start with. I had a red angel, it was a bright red cocktail that came in a bottle, with a martini glass. Unbelievable value at $15 and I got, I think about 5 decadent drinks out of it. We ordered dishes that lined the middle of the table and filled our plates with massamun beef, chilly jam crispy soft shell crabs, stir fried Asian greens, chilli green peppercorn eggplant, pumpkin stir fried, pad thai, steamed rice. We moaned and salivated and piled more meat and veg on our plates, we encouraged each other to try each and every dish. The food was great, the restaurant was lively and hectic, the drinks and food arrived promptly, and the staff were friendly, the meal was good value for money. The eight of us chatted and laughed at either end of the table.

We moved next door for dessert, to the Chocolatier, I ordered an Azteca chilli hot chocolate. The dynamics changed as we sat at the outside tables, and chatted to different friends than at the Thai restaurant. If anything we became louder as the conversation morphed from kids, husbands, school holidays and house building to tattoos, penises, boobs, and bras.

Friday night dinner and cocktails was a successful as Wednesday coffee. It was a loud and happy send off for our beautiful friend and including some of her favourite things. Good friends, great conversation, scrumptious food and drinks, in a fun setting. I will be sure to write another blog post when the Cabo mums dine with her in West End.

 

 

Post 80

I stood in Woolies flicking through a home style magazine and the focus for the current edition of the glossy mag was hallways. My hallway is its own living, breathing beauty. The breeze in summer flows through the front door, and down the hall, streams into the living room at the end cooling the house.  The cold winds in winter bluster down the hallway and up through the tiny gaps in the floor, meaning my house is like a big wooden freezer. The boards on the floor moan and creak in places. Places that my boys haven’t learnt not to tread on when they are leaving their rooms and are trying to sneak along the hallway passed my bedroom – usually at 5.00am to play on the Play station. The main artery of my home has been used for a cricket pitch – this activity was not consented by me, it has been used for a photo shoot, when my boys were tiny tots, they raced matchbox cars down the hall, at times they have tried to ride scooters and skateboards down the wooden floor. The house is not level, making it a fun game to roll marbles down floorboards.  My husband and I spent a whole week painting the thirteen foot VJ walls, every single board. There’s also decorative features above the doors, two arch ways and a centre arch of decorative painted columns and moulding, picture rails that give character and are a standard feature of the Queenslander home. I haven’t in the time we have been in the house been able to decide on the perfect light fittings to light up our dark hallway. In saying that though, I have threatened several times to tape up the light switch as every single time boy one walks into the hallway he turns on the lights – every single time, day or night, it drives me mental. On several occasions I have been at our gate about to leave for the day, and sent boy 1 back to turn off the lights that I can see shining through the glass that surrounds the front door and swinging window above the door.  I also want two hall runners to line the floor, the ones that I want to sink my feet into are wool and silk Persian rugs, I need two of them. No surprise then that my floor is still bare.

Post 79

Post 78

 

I spent time on my yoga mat this morning. Stretching my muscles, my breathing, my mind.  I lost all thought and flowed, I flowed with the movements, the breath, the up and down. Letting everything go, breathing in light and energy, breathing out negativity. The breeze flowed around me in my lounge room, my hardwood floors were, where I planted my feet and followed the instruction to ground down through the earth. I bowed down and worshipped the sun, in the power sun salutation flow. I surrendered to the uncomfortable stressed feeling in my mind and body and worked through them as I :

 

1.       Breathe in, Breathe out bring hands to prayer at heart space

 

2.       Breathe in, bring hands above head, lift through chest

 

3.       Breathe out, bend forward, bending knees, bring hands beside feet

 

4.       Breathe in, take right foot back into lunge.

 

5.       Breathe out, take left foot back into downward dog

 

6.       No breath, into 8 point pose – toes, knees, hands, chest, chin to floor

 

7.       Breathe in, into cobra – lifting through chest

 

8.       Breathe out, into downward dog

 

9.       Breathe in, right leg through to hands into lunge.

 

 

10.   Breathe out, left leg through to meet right into forward bend

 

11.   Breathe in, coming up, sweep hands above head, lift through chest

 

12. Breathe out, hands to prayer at heart space.

I sweated and I repeated the sequence, my muscles quivered, my breathing laboured, it was hard work. In the final savasana, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the buzzing in my body and my energy. The rest of the morning, I was loose limbed, and relaxed, positive and motivated.

 

Post 78

Post 78

 

My husband sent me a text this morning. “Morning babe, you look hot today.” So I sent him back the feature photo on this post with “thanks love you – def don’t look hot this am, pulling my hair out over a kid who doesn’t want to do his spelling words”. This photo is my reality this morning, 6.00am I am telling one boy to get off this PlayStation and go and feed the chickens please. And I have the other one still in bed. The kettle over the gas element so far has taken 7 minutes to boil – I put too much water in there. Wednesday means homework is due in and spelling words need to be tested, for boy 2. Boy 1 eventually drags himself out of bed and starts getting ready for school at a snail’s pace.

The moment in time that this photo was taken I had just been screaming at boy 1 to get out of the shower, as  he had been in their for about 10 minutes, boy 2 was standing in front of me asking me to sign his spelling words untested. I had only had half a cup of coffee, and the dog tried to sneak through the door and sleep in the lounge room. What a morning, we filed out the door at 8.00am with boy 1 coming in the car with me so I can drop him at school and boy 2 riding along the path to his school.

Wednesday, means Wednesday coffee with the girls. We had to change venue today as our usual haunt is being renovated. We went to the local library and enjoyed a coffee at the café outside. I always claim that I am not a great school mum. However I had always thought that being the great school mum meant hanging around at the school all the time and being part of the carpark mafia. I was sitting at coffee this morning and looking at all of my lovely school mum friends as we sat and inhaled coffee, debriefed on our morning, recommended books about teenagers, and outlined school holiday plans. I love my little school mum crew catch ups on a Wednesday and am so grateful for them – love you ladies. We are a mixed bunch, of badass Mums (we still have to see that movie).

Post 76

Post 76

 

On a bit of a roll with writing at the moment and feeling motivated on this sunshiny Monday. Really early start to the day, after getting home at midnight last night from work. Parent/ teacher interview this morning at 7.45am. I always get nervous going to these things, bit like going to the Principals office really – not that I ever went to the principal’s office and not sure why I get nervous, the teachers are lovely . Anyway I got dressed in what I thought at the time of buying them, were a cute pair of blue overalls. When I walked past the glass doors at the school this morning, I looked like I was going to start painting the new building that is currently being constructed. I waited until 8.05am no teacher, so I left the parent/teacher interview with no interview. My husband is on a school excursion with the teacher today so he can chat to her at some point.

I did a quick pop into Woolies for more bread, milk. Had a de-brief on the phone to my bestie, made a cuppa, did some washing and got to writing. I stalked around on Facebook for a while and found a post that Daphne posted – Screw finding your passion by Mark Manson. Mark’s writing style is in your face, laced with the word fuck throughout and pretty much tells you to pull your head out of your ass and be realistic. I love it.

The common complaint among a lot of these people is that they need to ‘find their passion.’

I call bullshit. You already found your passion, you’re just ignoring it. Seriously, you’re awake 16 hours a day, what the fuck do you do with your time? You’re doing something, obviously. You’re talking about something. There’s some topic or activity or idea that dominates a significant amount of your free time, your conversations, your web browsing, and it dominates them without you consciously pursuing it or looking for it.

Womankind also had a similar article in Issue 10 – the one that I am published in (page 77). The article is “How do you measure your life”, by Madeleine Dore. “For modern people, stalked by their choices, the good life is a life lived to the full. We become obsessed, in a new way, by what is missing in our lives; and by what sabotages the pleasures that we seek” (this was a quote she used from the book “In missing out; In Praise of the Unlived life”, Adam Phillips.  The article prompts readers to think about how they measure their lives: Is it day by day or year by year? Do you measure the mountains you climbed or the valleys you explored? By the dreams imagined on the hopes dashed? By the wealth accumulated or by amount you have spent?

My motivation fix for today. Have a great Monday everyone.

Post 75

Post 75

It’s not even summer yet and it is hot. Baking hot, my clean sheets were dry and baked on the clothes line, before I was able to hang the next load of washing out. I love when I can feel the sun burning your skin when you walk outside, when the brown grass crackles and spikes into my bare feet, when the temperature is still cool inside our Queenslander home, but I can see the heat out in the yard.

I was in the baking sun, walking on my own piece of the land in bare feet that kept getting spiked with grass, gum nuts, leaves and bark. I watered the plants in our new garden that were wilting in the heat, it is next to the stairs at the front of our house and I wanted into look pretty so we filled it with a combination of plants and flowers from both of our families. There are geraniums from my grandma and papa, there are more geraniums from my husband’s aunt and uncle, and there is a frangipani tree that was my great-grandmothers on my father’s side, hydrangeas from me to my husband and a hydrangea that mum gifted my husband for his birthday. In other parts of our garden, I have a jade plant from my great-grandmother on mum’s side. I have a king orchid from my great-grandfather on dad’s side of the family. I have bromeliads from a lady that I work with.  Every time l look at these plants I think of the people they are associated with.

I was given some advice on families today when I chatted to a 102 year old lady. She is a tiny lady in stature, but has a big spirit. She is completely independently mobile and her mind as sharp as a tack. I asked her what her secret to living so long is. She laughed and said she gets asked this question all the time. She told me hard work and a loving family.

Post 74

Post 74

This week I feel that I’ve been the mother that continually makes demands from her kids. It really did feel like every time that I spoke to my
offspring, it was too ask them to do something.

 

“Put your tie and belt on”

 

“get ready for school.”

 

“get ready for work”

 

” have you got your homework”

 

We had a blow up about an assignment that was due in and it was not great, it was no where near the standard that he is capable of. Sitting at
cricket today, my head wanted to explode in frustration with the way my boy was playing cricket, he wasn’t playing to the best of his ability and was walking around the pitch waving his bat and not hitting the ball. I was the crazy mother on the boundary telling
him what to do. “Run”, “hit the ball”. My other boy was sitting with me laughing his little head off. This was after I had lectured him on the perils of borrowing money from friends and to never ever do it again. He had borrowed money from a friend to buy
a pencil with a rubber on the end at the school bookfair, I had told him no that he wouldn’t be buying a pencil from a bookfair and if he wanted to contribute to the bookfair he would be buying a book.  I was trying to teach him the lesson that if you don’t
have your own cash, then you save for the item or forget about it. I had the very same conversation with boy 1 when on the way to work on Tuesday. He his at the age (14), where he believes that everything in our life should revolve about him and that he is
entitled to absolutely everything that he lays his eyes on. We have set a limit for him to reach in his bank account before he is allowed to spend any money. This will be his emergency fund and this is the least amount that always must be in his account. He
thinks that this concept is ridiculous and that he should be able to spend whatever money he sees fit.

 

Everyday this week has felt like a battle, some ending in wine and a whinge to my husband.

 

I read an article on Facebook – by Rachel Stafford from the New York times, 10 ways to Salvage a bad morning before parting ways.

The last few sentences got to me : Day after day, you provide countless doses of love without even thinking about it. That sacred collection of loving gestures far outweighs this mornings clothing drama, and the 7am meltdown

Post 73

Post 73

 

It was my husband’s birthday the other day. In our home if it’s you’re birthday, you are celebrated. Ever since boy one’s first birthday I have always decorated the bedroom with a happy birthday sign, streamers and balloons. The boy’s try and tell me that they are too old for such decorations, but I religiously deck-out their rooms on the eve of their special day. Same went for my hubby but I did the kitchen as I didn’t get home until midnight from work and I didn’t want to wake him up.

I was able to swap a shift so that I could spend the day with him. We enjoyed a relaxed morning with the boy’s (as relaxed as a school morning can be) and headed for the local shopping centre. One of my hubby’s favourite treats if we have a morning off together, is to go to Donut king. He orders a large chocolate thick shake, six cinnamon donuts and I get a coffee and a few bites of his donuts. So we did this on his birthday. Some of our most serious and deep and meaningful conversations have been had in the food court near donut king, over chocolate, dough and caffeine, on this day we tossed up if we should get foot massages or go the movies for cheap Tuesday. We ended up at Happy Feet. After a fair bit of pointing at the “menu” of services, and filling out paperwork we are seated in comfy chairs getting our feet rubbed. As I have said in other posts, I am not a fan of massages and other people touching me, but my beautiful, elegant and very talented masseuse, Joanne (which I don’t think is her real name) had me walking out of the shop feeling like I was walking with jelly legs on a cloud.

I was starting to stress a bit around school pick-up, my husband was passed out on our bed having a nanna nap. I told my husband he had to do the school run to get the boy’s. I ended up pretty much, pushing him out the door, in a bit of a sleep haze. When my 3 finally walked up the back stairs, the kitchen was covered in more streamers and party food and cake covered the table. I wish I had a camera handy for when my husband walked into the kitchen. He smiled a big, toothy, happy smile and kissed me all over my face saying thank you, for a great day. We are, drank, took photos and sung happy birthday, before I took boy 1 to work.

We feasted on pork belly with roast veg’s and more cake for dinner, we slow cooked it all afternoon, while planting flowers and trees in our backyard. We enjoyed a wine and a beer while watching the local birds find new homes after the Sunday storm destroyed some of the trees that they called home. It was a beautiful day full of simple pleasures and we celebrated.

Post 72

My bestie invited me for wine on the deck and a bonfire on Saturday night, the day after the Christmas party; I was feeling a little tired and my stomach a little fragile. I spent an oppressively hot and humid day in front of the TV watching the Australian cricket team get absolutely pummelled by the South Africans. The heat was heavy, the sweat was pouring out of me and I was praying for a big weather change to roll through, storms are one of my favourite things. They change the energy and the feel of the day; bring relief, fear and excitement, one of nature’s most beautiful shows. Rain, thunder and lightning were just ahead of me on the drive to my dinner date with the kids in the car. Our house was on the edge of the storm we only received a small sprinkle, but by the time I arrived at my besties place about 15 minutes from home, water was over the road, the air was lighter and there was the divine earthy scent of rain (Petrichor – the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil. The word is constructed from Greek petra, meaning “stone”, and ichor, the fluid that flows in the veins of the gods in Greek mythology.) The bonfire was called off, so we settled on the deck to catch up.

My bestie is working full-time as a contract graphic designer in the city and her husband is renovating their new home in Brisbane, so to aid with school drop off and pick-up, they have hired a lovely, young lady from Germany to help the family. She is adventuring around Australia for the next two years earning, learning and gaining life experience. As someone who has never travelled too far, but would love to and as woman that is double this girl’s age. I love her fearless commitment (well she portrayed fearlessness) to stay and experience Australia and herself, to have the confidence to be in a foriegn country on the other side of the world to your home and explore and know what you want and need. I was sitting on my favourite cane lounge chair, cradling a glass of red observing this confident young lady. At her age I was a wall flower – who before my first day of work in a new job, made my boyfriend come for a drive with me so I would know where to go. She knows how to participate in conversation with poise and self-belief in what she is saying. She was completely at home in the setting and happy to help herself and have no trouble asking for what she wanted. What a brave girl. Asking for what she wants and needs, there is such vulnerability and openness in the act. I can’t imagine at her age, in a foreign country, living with a family that isn’t your own – asking. I still have trouble asking for things, showing that form of vulnerability. Also very appropriate that on this same day, I borrowed my besties book written by Amanda Palmer “The Art of asking”.

Post 71

Remembrance Day was also the day of the work Christmas party. I’ve not been to any social events hosted by work. I am usually working, my husband was working away or it was just too hard. We live about an hour from the city where these events are held, public transport is not particularly safe after having a few drinks and I would never catch it on my own late at night and a taxi would cost hundreds of dollars. This year however I paid for us to go and celebrate with the people that I spend a lot of my nights and weekends with. I paid for our tickets and booked a room near the venue so that we wouldn’t have the hassle of trying to get home and so that we could relax and enjoy ourselves.

I went and bought a new shirt for my husband – it was too small, it was a different cut to what else is hanging in the cupboard. So I got my money back, because he wanted to wear a shirt in his cupboard that I am not fond of and I often tease him about. With the money from the shirt I picked out a dusky pink shift dress. Really pretty but I was a bit worried when I tried it on that I may look a bit like mutton dressed up as lamb. But the lady in the fitting room next to me assured me it looked great.

I organised for the children to stay with my mum the night, I picked up my husband from work and we headed into the city for a fun night away. We followed the lady on Google maps to the address that I was emailed on the confirmation of booking our room. We had a bit of trouble finding the parking, so we parked illegally and went to check in. At check in the reception staff were lovely, and they directed us to the carpark.  We parked and fought over the correct button to press on the lift. The room numbers outlined on the lift said that our room was on the lower ground (LG), my husband said that must be a typo, he thought we were on the LG in the carpark. We get to the room and my husband opens the door with great drama and excitement and we are both stunned. The images that were on the website where I reserved the room, are nothing like the actual room. Just to the left of the door is the bathroom, the shower is so small I don’t think that my average sized husband will fit. The double bed which should be a queen bed is in the middle of the room and there is barely enough room between the bed and the wall for me to squeeze through. To top it off though there is no window.

A friend of mine gave me her Uber code so that we could receive $10 each way on the first two trips of using Uber. It was fabulous – from our room that is a claustrophobics nightmare to the work Christmas party venue was $7.10 each way. So the country bumpkins (aka us), who never go to work functions in the city, who obviously aren’t great at choosing hotel rooms, and had never booked an Uber were the talk and laugh of the Christmas party. I was so glad that we made the effort to go it was a fun night with great people, prawns, oysters and other finger food, champagne, beer, wine and spirits, photos, laughs and a hang over the next morning.

 

Post 70

Post 70

I love interesting conversations. I had an interesting conversation yesterday with a friend that I don’t see often enough. We spoke deeply and opening about being a woman, wife, and mother. We spoke about family that is not blood but make us feel loved, connected and part of something important. We spoke about what we do for our families and friends. We spoke about dreams that we don’t know we want and being the peacemaker.

As I drove home I was thinking about the conversation. I was thinking about how women are the backbone and guiding force in families. In what ways women are the strength and the peacemakers, times when women placed others before themselves. Women are the cultivators of friendships, relationships and support to family and friends. How a woman’s vibe and energy influences the people around her. Women are the ears, eyes, heart and mind of her tribe.

I spoke about wives and mothers to an elderly Italian lady, and she told me about her 60 years of experience of marriage and child rearing. Go about it quietly darling. My husband thinks that he is the backbone of our family, pffft, I let him think that. Never underestimate the power of seed planting, she told me and patted my hand. I am the one that has made the decisions when it has come to our home, our children and family. But I have done it quietly, this doesn’t mean I haven’t fought and stood my ground, that I haven’t had to be creative, when I want my own way. And men can be stupid. She told me how they are happy in their marriage, comfortable in their finances, how she has a close knit family and friends, how she volunteers, she is active in her community and she can be happy at the end of her life that she has been kind and helpful.

I haven’t been back on social media today, after I got caught up reading one thread this morning, where women were being absolutely vile to each other and tearing each other apart because of the way they voted in the US election. At the end of the day we are all women and this was no way to treat a fellow human. There was one comment about how there will never be world peace now. It made me shrink my mind to my little world. My family and friends the people that are important to me, my work and my home, the things that I enjoy and the dreams that I have. I try to be kind and thoughtful, I make a point of hearing what people are saying. This is where world peace starts – with yourself. I have a key chain on my car keys – Be the change you want to see in the world. Women know how to connect people, build families and communities, women do have influence and will be the change in the world.

End of post 70

I opened bank accounts for boy 1 today. I set strict rules for his finances and he is excited to see his money grow.

Feature photo shows my new hair.

Post 69

Post 69

Changed this challenge to 100 posts. I have for the last 4 days felt guilty for not writing. During the four day’s I would think of topics, or things that I wanted to include in each post but didn’t have the discipline to sit and write the post.

Over the past four days, I  spent time having coffee with my mum and we did a bit of shopping my heart was full after spending a few hours with her and having a chat. I also had an incredibly interesting conversation with a lady that I work with, it was her first shift back from 6 weeks on holidays. She was telling me about her solo drive around Tasmania, the haunted BnB she stayed in, the amazing seafood, the lovely people and that for 48 hours she was listed as a missing person when she was travelling through dense bushland in the mountains of Tasmania and the last words that she said to her daughter on the phone were “ I am so isolated and frightened, if anything happens to me here you will never find me.” She was actually fine after a day with no phone service and no emergency service time was wasted looking for her.

I worked two night shifts, that were horrendous and made me pissed off and frustrated with stupid people, made me angry that anybody can procreate and thankful for emergency service workers.

On Friday night and into Saturday I didn’t see my children and my arms ached to hug them, didn’t sleep well with missing them.

Sunday I had three hours sleep, while my husband and boy 2 were fishing and diving, boy 2 was incredibly sea sick and still looked a bit green when he got home. Boy 1 wrangled another night at his friend’s house and then more time going to the movies with him. He came home tired, cranky and with a severe attitude problem, that didn’t sit well with my tired and emotional state coming off night duty. I spent Sunday with one of my oldest and dearest friends, we ate cheese, drank wine, talked while our children swam and laughed and our husbands talked and drank beer, we laughed and shared dinner together with our families, and then we all made our own individual Pavlovas. It was such a simple joy for the eight of us to be in the kitchen making a treat.

Yesterday, boy 1 went on camp, we didn’t part in a great way as he absolutely hated me for sending him to camp, apparently none of the cool kids go to camp. He thought it was also uncool to take a towel, toiletries, lunch for yesterday and water. We argued all morning about packing a couple of life’s necessities and he barely said goodbye. I cried, his father was fuming and he rolled his eyes.

I loved my husband a little bit more yesterday after our disastrous morning, when he hung new curtains in our bedroom. I have wanted curtains for the longest time, but never got around to it, or didn’t want to part with an exorbitant amount of money for material that covers a window, I also quiet like waking up with the sun. Now that I am back on nights I needed curtains.

End of post 69

Getting ready for work, the weather here is hot and humid and the makeup is sliding off my face.

Boy 1 is on school camp and can’t wait until he gets home.

Feature photo is me watching the cricket after waking up from night duty.

Day 66

Day 66

Happy Saturday.

Summer Saturdays are a busy day for my little family. It is 7.36am, my husband and boy 1 are already at cricket, boy 2 is at home with me, he is getting ready to go and spend the morning with a friend. I am thinking of everything I need to do between now and 2.00pm. Take boy 2 to his mates house, go and get a birthday present for the party that he is going to at 6.00pm, plan on texting my bestie to see if she wants to inhale a quick coffee, go and watch boy 1 play a bit of cricket, come home cook dinner for the family, lay down and have a quick nanna nap before getting ready to go to work at 2.00pm. And all of that is why my fingers are flying over the keys this early because I don’t want to be writing this at 11.30pm again and the rest of the day is overbooked.

A couple of thoughts of the day, to carry me through.

I have four decks of affirmation cards in my office. All with varying messages. Today, I picked one from the Money and law of attraction cards by Esther and Jerry Hicks.

My life is as good as I allow it to be.

Many people focus upon unwanted things, with no deliberate attention to the emotional guidance within the, and then they try to compensate for their lackful thinking with physical action. And because of the a misalignment of energy, the y do not get results from their action, so then they try hard by offering ore action , but still things do not improve. Like the air you breathe, abundance in all things is available to you.  Your life will simple be as good as you allow it to be.

The “on this day” feature on my Facebook showed me a memory from a year ago and it is a good thought

“Thou shalt not judge, because thou hast fucked up in the past also.”

 

End of day 66

Not even close yet, seen at it is 7.52am but wishing everyone a happy day and will see what today brings.

It is now 12.09pm I have done everything on the list above and also sat in 45 minute’s worth of traffic. It would usually take 14 minutes to get home from the local cricket field. About to go and rush through a nanna nap.

Day 63

Day 63

This summer I am going to wear pretty dresses. I have a couple of nice summery dresses but not enough to get me through every hot day until March. I treated myself to a maxi dress with my tax return. It fits perfectly, the material is stunning, the dress draws attention and every time I wear it I get comments about how beautiful it is. It was $104 that included postage. I cannot be buying dresses at this price to fit out my summer wardrobe.

About three weeks ago, I hopped on EBay. With a passion I hate online shopping. However I found some cute dresses that are my style, I got my measurements because I didn’t want to be caught out buying a small if I needed a medium. I found a cute little dress from an online store overseas. White lace, with a neckline that sits on my collarbone and a hem that falls to my knees, slight A-line, summery and pretty. Snapped it up for the $1.99 plus free postage. I mean how ridiculous is that price?

I came home last night from work, the only light on in the house was the light over the stove. I could faintly see white material draped over the chair at the end of the kitchen table. It was my dress. This morning after dropping the boys off I came home to play dress ups with my pretty new dress. So glad that I ordered the Extra-large dress when I am usually a small to medium. Because the pretty little white lace dress with the neckline that sits on my collarbone and the hem that falls to my knees that I ordered. Is actually a pretty little white lace dress with the neckline that sits on my collarbone and the hem that falls to my barely my arse. So instead of having a new dress I have a new top.

End of day 63

Feature image is my new dress.

Another little writing beauty from my book 642 tiny things to write about from my bestie.

Write 20 things about your first car.

  1. It was a yellow Mitsubishi Colt.
  2. It was a hatchback
  3. I bought the bucket of bolts that it was to annoy my Dad.
  4. My dad hated that car with a passion
  5. My dad made me learn how to change a tyre, check the oil and water before I was allowed to learn to drive it
  6. It was for sale in the front yard of a house at Wamuran. Mum and I saw it on the way back from friends that lived in Toowoomba and every time I drive past there I think of the buzz box.
  7. It had no air-conditioning
  8. It had a great stereo
  9. A couple of days after I got it and Mum was at work I tried to learn how to reverse it myself and ended up in a tree. And dented the back of it.
  10. One of the cows that we had at home at the time sat on the left hand front panel.
  11. It would scream, everyone could hear me coming in that car.
  12. I learnt to drive in that car
  13. I took a corner in that car at about 80 kilometres an hour and my mother reminds me of this every time we go around that corner.
  14. That car drove me to school every day with my sisters, to work every Saturday, to schoolies, my first full-time permanent job, to my first boyfriends house.
  15. It used to cost me $10 to fill it
  16. It would splutter to a stop if I was stopped on a hill.
  17. The seat covers were brown
  18. My sisters learnt to drive in it
  19. It was handed down to both my sisters.
  20. I can’t remember where it ended up when my little sister finished with it.

 

Day 61

Day 61

I feel as though I need to write a disclaimer for this one. As I fear I am going to sound like a complete nutter.

Since I woke this morning I have felt very unsettled, not even unsettled just like I have energy that I don’t know what to do with, it’s kind of physical, but I also feel it in my head. Like I can’t stop thinking about something, but I don’t know what I am thinking about. And for the last two nights I have dreamt that I have given birth to a baby girl. Whenever I have this dream, something changes in my life. (Honestly it does, the first time I had this dream, my husband got a job as a fly in fly out worker the next week) The only thing that I can relate this wired feeling to, is that I feel as though I have forgotten to do something, or the feeling when you know a word but can’t remember it.

When I was having brekky this morning, small writing ideas kept on popping into my head, then a conversation that I had with a friend would show up, then I was on social media and an article that related to both was in my feed, my Instagram also seemed to be haunting me today with images that increased the feelings that I had. Like I was supposed to be linking the dots. I took the boys to school and decided that I need to just sit on the grass and ground myself, get out of my head and whatever came up, would come up. I kept coming up with all of these posts ideas I wanted to write about and felt as though I needed to jump up and start writing. I felt as though I should be researching but I wasn’t sure what. But something kept me glued to the grass. (Christ. I sound like a freak)

I pulled on my housewife role instead, I washed clothes, walls, the ceiling in the bathroom, stairs, I folded laundry and chopped onions and browned meat for dinner, and I made muffins for afternoon tea. I paid bills and tidied the office. I did the school run and have been for a walk with my husband and our dog. I called off cricket training for tonight as tonight and Sunday night are my only nights to have dinner with my family this week, my kid hates me.

As I sat down to write this post I looked to my left and Big Magic by Liz Gilbert called to me. I did my usual trick of closing my eyes and randomly picking a page. I opened to page 35. Enchantment. I will summarise this page that actually made me get chills and perhaps gave me an answer to today’s weirdness.

Ideas are a disembodied, energetic life-form. Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be manifested. It is only through the human’s efforts that an idea be escorted out of the ether and into the realm of the actual. The idea will try to wave you down. Rarely but magnificently there comes a day when you’re open and relaxed enough to actually receive something, and then the magic can slip through. It will send a universal physical and emotional signal of inspiration. Chills up the arms, nervous stomach, the buzzy thoughts, the feeling of love or obsession) the idea organises coincidences and portents to stumble across your path, to keep your interest keen. The idea will keep you awake at night and distract your daily routine. The idea will not leave you alone, and then in a quiet moment it will ask, “Do you want to work with me?”

So this where I am up to. Maybe an idea is knocking and I don’t know what it is yet.

End of day 61

I have just re-read this and I sound like a crazy person

Congratulations to my cousin that had a baby girl today, Poppy Mable, she will never see this but spread the love and all that.

Day 59

Day 59

I am typing this blog post with 1 hand. Last night I took a plate of garlic bread out of the oven, put it on the dining room table, and then grabbed the plate to move it further into the middle of the table. The result was me roasting four fingers on my left hand. The pain made me want to vomit, the burning agony travelled up my arm. I ran my fingers under water, clutched an ice pack and continually smothered Aloe Vera gel from our plant in the garden all over my fingers, I medicated myself on Panadol and Neurofen.  I had an uncomfortable, sleepless night and today we had cricket, groceries and I was supposed to work this afternoon, I called in sick as my tools of the trade now resemble burnt chipolatas.

Cricket didn’t last long for me today, my boy was opening bat and he was out in the first over,  he got caught off a ball that he should of left. My cricketing fanatic is having trouble settling into his new team, I am not sure if we have done the right thing by his game by pulling him from his old team. The team that he had played with for 4 seasons, was elevated to the senior’s competition this year. I wasn’t comfortable having my fourteen year old play with adult men. He is cocky and arrogant enough about his abilities and I wanted him to grow naturally with the game and his age not be shoved into an older team. The boys that he has played with for the past 4 years, played seamlessly together, they all new each other’s strengths and weaknesses, they supported each other and knew how to deal with each other when the emotion and spirit of the game was at fever pitch or they were having a hard day on the field. All the boys in that team were on par with their cricket skills and abilities, this lead them to 4 grand-finals. Being in this new team he hasn’t gelled with this new team at all. There seems to be big differences in cricketing skills in this team and he seems to have lost his passion and enthusiasm. I was thinking today as I watched him, if it was more his old team and his mateship with them that made him step up and play the way he did, because his manner and energy toward the game is not the same since we made the decision I am now not sure about. After he came home from his game of cricket this afternoon, which he was filthy with me about, because he wanted to leave when he got out. We argued because I said it is a team game you will stay until the end of play. He went and spent the afternoon with this old team, he helped them warm up and co-ordinated the batting practice and bowling with them, he hung out, talked and laughed with his mates and watched them play with the seniors. When he came home after 5 hours with them, he was like his old self, the enthusiasm, the passion and the excited conversation had returned.

Boy 2 was with me the whole day, while his brother was at cricket and his dad at work. We did the cricket run, had coffee and iced chocolate with my mum, we did the groceries. Today he was the most amazingly kind, generous and thoughtful boy, he helped his one handed mother do everything. He helped with groceries, he helped with preparing food. He didn’t complain even once. He was constantly asking if I was ok.

End of day 59

This typing with one hand is bloody hard

Going to clean and dress my burnt little fingers.

Day 58

I meet up with Marina this morning at her friends store/coffee shop Gallery B on Enoggera Road, Newmarket. We were seated on the decking for a couple of hours at the back of the building, drinking Turkish tea, talking and throwing around ideas, thoughts and details for a little project that we are going to do together. Excited to start the research for the project.

It was an incredibly warm spring day today, not sure what I was thinking this morning when I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, but by the time that I left Marina and drove the 45 minutes home I pretty much ran into my house and was ripping the denim off as fast as I could. I replaced denim jeans for denim cut offs and a really comfy cotton singlet that I only wear around the house. My brain was exhausted with so many ideas swirling around, so I curled up on my bed and fell into a glorious nanna nap, only to be woken by my phone ringing next to my head. It was my dear husband who was doing school pick-up on his way home from work. The times was 2.55pm and he was calling to tell me that he was still about 35 minutes away and to see what I was doing. In my half sleepy state, for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why he was only calling 5 minutes before boy 1 had to be picked up, boy 2 was riding so he was fine. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I am doing, even when I am on night duty or have plans, school pickup is always on my mind and making sure that I will be at the school when the boys finish. I wanted to say “what the bloody hell?” “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”, “you know it takes longer than 5 minutes to get to the school!” But pick your battles and all that. So I flew down the stairs and just as I was starting the car boy 2 rode in to the yard. Anyway all was well got boy 1, and when my husband finally got home her brought me marvellous creations chocolate.

End of day 58

The feature photo is of my unfortunate school pick up outfit that I forgot to change out of because I was in a hurry to get to my kid at school and didn’t think of my clothes.

Went for a long walk this afternoon with boy 2, my husband and our dog. Again we were stopped every 5 minutes with people admiring our big dog.

Day 55

Day 55.

We live outside of our local town, we are on an acre of land in a nice quiet street with neighbours that we don’t really see or hear. Further north is small farming areas mostly pineapples and strawberries when in season. We are only minutes from the Glass House Mountains as well. The daily school run takes me south of our home. The school boy 1 goes to is opposite the local public hospital – (the hospital that has a needle exchange vending machine at the front door), there is also the public primary and high school and a child care centre on the same block. The area where all of this is positioned has high density housing with mostly housing commission homes. That house very low socio economic families, most with little or no education. There are a lot of fast food outlets, and shopping centres that are full every day.  This area is well known for drugs, crime, and lots of social issues, the whole suburb has a bad reputation. Which is a shame as the area has a great library and art gallery, a University, my favourite little coffee shop – Double Brass, the markets on a Sunday are held at the show grounds, a Montessori school, and there is also the Queensland equestrian centre.

This morning when I was driving out of the school driveway a couple of teenagers dressed in the local public school uniform, walked across the drive way in front of my car. The girl was pregnant and the boy holding her hand was smoking. I wanted to yell out the car window, “your school is in the other direction, stop smoking, go to school and help your unborn kid out.” I didn’t of course.

I stopped in at the Woolies next door to the school and was nearly run over by a woman who is probably my age but 100 kilograms heavier. She was driving a motorised scooter and she was a hoon, loaded down with so much junk food it was actually kind of gross and would’ve been expensive.

 

End of day 55

Worked this afternoon and the area that I was working in resembled the Brisbane city watch house, drug addicts, arrest warrants, hand cuffs and prostitutes galore.

Had an argument with a nurse in the tea room when discussing a situation, and I said if I was out in a public place and a known IV drug user had overdosed on heroin and needed CPR, I would not offer to commence CPR until paramedics arrived on scene.

 

Day 54

Day 54

Pupil free day today. Boy 2 had to finish the last part of his book review this morning, it was a scrapbook. I am the least crafty mother on this planet. When the boys were little I NEVER had paint in the house, we never sat around cutting things out or making crafty things, no that was all reserved for their two days at the Montessori children’s house. I remember them having play doh, but we always played with it outside. So to make a scrapbook worthy of a school assignment was slightly stressful. But it looks great, there are a couple of photocopied coloured photos out of the book, he has written quotes and information throughout the scrap book amongst actual gum leaves, he has crated boarders around the pages and themed each page and written relevant informative information on each. The trick to getting him to complete this creative work! Tell him if he completes it to the outstanding column in the rubric and have it finished before I go to work.  I will get his father to call into the bike shop on the way home to pick up a new tyre for his mountain bike. Seriously this sneaky and underhanded bribery worked. He was frantically looking for scissors, glue and tape, he was photocopying interesting photos and maps to include in the scrapbook, he rifled through draws to find the Derwent colour pencils. He did a very good job in a short amount of time, there was no whinging and bitching he got stuck in and proudly showed me the finished product. I did help him a little bit with when he couldn’t decide what to include and what he thought may be relevant. I just had to find the currency that would put a rocket under him.

While this craft work session was happening at the kitchen table, boy 1 was outside with his homemade sling shot. He found the instructions and list of materials needed in the book that boy 2 was reviewing. He cut up a piece of leather and rope tied knots and spent the morning perfecting his shot. I did have to scream out to him a few times to stop shooting stones up onto my tin roof. There was also a few close calls with my glass windows.

Nice early blog post today. As I am off to work and don’t want to be sitting up at midnight again.

End of day 54

Still thinking about some of the topics, thoughts, goals and dreams that my husband and I were talking about next to the fire last night. Kind of screwing with my head but also refreshing to be so open.

Really hate working on a Monday afternoon, busiest shift of the week. I hope I am working with good staff.

Day 53

Day 53

Happy Sunday.

It is book review time for boy 2 again. My second boy finds no joy whatsoever in losing himself amongst the pages of a book. He gets this from his father. Boy 1 and I love nothing better than ignoring the world and reading a good book. This term the assignment is read a book, write a review and produce a scrapbook that represents the book from your point of view. It is very lucky for my children that I found Montessori as the alternative to “conventional school”, because we wouldn’t have survived home schooling. I don’t have the patience. The frustrating thing with boy 2 is he can read and if I ask him to read aloud to me he is a good reader. But trying to get him to do it is nearly impossible. He is not a story reader, for this review he read The Dangerous book for boys. It is an encyclopaedia for boys with everything in it from making a paper aeroplane to the lineage of the English monarchy. It has instructions on how to identify birds and what books every young boy should read.  This morning after breakfast I locked us in the office and began the torturous task of the book review.  We read through the criteria and I told him we need to focus on the outstanding column in the rubric. So I asked him the rich questions about the book, I asked him simple questions that he could answer with great detail. We wrote a 400 word book review the book only received a 7/10 for the rating and when I asked him why, because he had justified and reasoned and given great information on the book he said because it is a book. I challenged him and said I think your being really hard because the rating and the review don’t match it should be at least a 9 from the words you have written.  His answer – No. We will make the scrapbook tomorrow, on the pupil free day, we both need a break from the dangerous book for boys.

This afternoon was spent with my husband sitting next to the bonfire that we have in our backyard. The boys were outside playing cricket, riding bikes and playing soccer next door. The aroma of the roast lamb and vegetables cooking on the barbecue carried on the breeze every so often. The king parrot the swooped me while I was hanging clothes on the line on Friday, made an appearance. I sipped my way through half a bottle of wine and my husband had two beers while we chatted and stared into the fire. There is something healing about being able to talk about dreams, ideas, arguments, worries, while looking into a fire.

End of day 53

My mother in law mended some dresses for me, two of boy 1’s school shirts and cricket pants. So grateful.

This only took me a few minutes to write, must be the wine. There is a saying write drunk edit sober. Will have to check this in the morning.

Day 50

Day 50.

50 days of writing, well sort of. There were a few days of writing that I chickened out of but they will be added to the end of the 100 day challenge. I feel like I should celebrate 50 days some how, not sure how to do that, but thought I would recap on some parts of the last 50 days, follow up on some the blog posts.

Where to start? Well the 5 days that I chickened out of writing, I found it a relief not to write and blog for a few days. I was sick of writing and reading my own babble. I was finding this writing challenge to be lonely, even though people take the time to read and comment on my posts. I was frustrated that my husband knows that I write everyday but he hasn’t read any of the blog posts. Usually this doesn’t faze me at all but this week it did.  Unfortunately the only routine to when I write is when I am on my own, the kids are at school, husband is at work, when I am on a tea break at work, after work at midnight. I write the blog posts on my phone, on my work email, on my home pc.

I wrote a post on day 43 about my favourite thongs breaking. It was a post that really surprised me. As I was writing it I felt a bit ridiculous writing about rubber thongs. But my readers enjoyed it and it was one of my most popular posts.

On day 47 I wrote about cricket training being at a time that sends my OCD dinner tendencies a bit mad.  This was exacerbated as my Dad called on the day and asked if he could stay the night. He lives in western Queensland and was coming to Brisbane for a funeral. He was a very good cricketer in his younger days and has a deep knowledge, experience and advice when it comes to most subjects and cricket is one.  He came to training with us. I was waiting all day for him to ring me and say that he would be late or that something had come up and he wouldn’t make training.  I hadn’t told my boy that Pop was coming to cricket, because I didn’t want him to experience the disappointment of Dad cancelling on him. But he shocked me and he was there and he helped my boy, he gave him invaluable tips and small adjustments to make my boy 1’s game better and kinder on his body.

On day 4 I wrote about working on my marriage and looking back on the last 50 days of writing I have skimmed over all the hard work that we are both doing in our marriage. It is definitely not all roses, but we are working the hardest we have ever worked on us. Some days suck and I am pretty sure that we hate each other, but instead of letting issues and comments brew and fester we are talking them through or texting each other if we can’t chat. Our happy place is the beach and we find it easy to reconnect, relax and enjoy each other there. There is a definite theme running through the blog in relation the beach and the ocean. With the way that we have plotted our rosters it is favourable for the boys, but definitely not great for our relationship as we pretty much high five each other on the way in and out the door. I took a sick day to travel to Northern New South Wales with him and was excited because we would have dinner together.

Another part of the 50 days that I has kept me writing is the #mesistertribe interviews

My Mum

Marina Meier

Amanda Metelli

Peta Hughes

Daphne Kapsali

What I have noticed over the last 50 days is how much more aware of the little things that I am, how I look for the positive in everyday and how I am much more observant of how I spend my time.

 

End of day 50

 

I am now on 3 days off and I can not wait to have the weekend off.

 

Thanks everyone for reading over the last 50 days.

Day 49

Day 49

We drove the coast road home from Coraki this morning.  We toured Ballina to see the first house that my husband lived in after he was born, we checked out the little pastel green house that belonged to his grandparents on
his fathers side.  The four of us, plus my mother-in-law walked Sheeley Beach at Ballina. Whales were playing in the water and giving us a breathtaking show as we stood on the beach with our feet in the water that wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be.

 We snagged the last outdoor picnic table at The Belle General cafe across the road from the beach.  I ordered us the prettiest morning tea of Raspberry torte and a berry custard tart. The presentation of these divinely tasty treats was on round wooden plate with a strawberry sauce and edible flowers. The small sized glass of chai latte was the absolute best I have ever ordered. 

After the deliciousness of our morning tea we continued up the coast and stopped in at our absolutely favourite beach. I am a Queenslander girl to my very core, but there is an energy/vibe in the Northern New South Wales area that calls to my heart and soul. Even though I have never lived anywhere but Queensland, I feel completely at home in this part of the country the beaches, the bush and hinterland wind a spell around me every single time I spend time there. Every single time I come home from being in that area I miss it intensely.  Broken Head our favourite beach and camping spot, that is six kilometers south of Byron Bay, was almost deserted the waves were clean and small and I was considering calling in sick for this afternoons shift at work.

I did end up coming into work. I couldn’t really call in sick, for the luxury of staying at the beach for the rest of the day. It has been flat out busy but I am working with one of my faves.

End of day 49

It is Pa’s 96 birthday today. 

I have had multiple messages and a phone call making sure my family and I are fine after another shark attack happened at Ballina today.

The feature photo is me getting home at 11.45pm


Day 47

Day 47

My house is feral.

I have spent the morning washing, vacuuming, folding and putting away 5 million pieces of clothing, washing dishes, tidying up and shopping for groceries. I miss my house when all I do is work, try to sleep and sloth on the lounge because of the lack of energy or motivation. But once the fog has lifted and I look at the pig sty it grosses me out. So today is housewife day and it feels great.

It also feels great to wear clothes during the day and not pyjamas. Back in my Mumma uniform of my favourite pair of jeans, a cute top and my new thongs that I hate. They are uncomfortable and not broken in. I nearly face planted when they got caught on the step, on the side of my car when I was climbing in after I did our groceries.

Boy 1 has cricket training from 6pm-8pm tonight. This does nothing good for my OCD tendencies about dinner at a reasonable hour. It is a bit of a dilemma for me, do we have dinner at 5.00pm and then the boys are starving from the work out at cricket. Or wait until we get home, but I would never ever wait until 8.30pm to start cooking dinner. That thought sends ridiculous anxious thoughts through my head. So I feel like I am having to do double dinner. Dinner at 5.00pm and then a light supper at 8.30am.

I have also just realised that in my tired state that instead of hitting publish on the last 3 blog posts, I was pressing save. So none of them were published. I didn’t even click to this when there had been no likes or comments.

I have also spent time on Google and found a writing retreat in Tuscany that I dream of attending. It is called Wide Open writing and it not only incorporates writing but massage, yoga and Reiki.

 

End of day 47

It is not the end of the day but I have lots to do in the next 2 hours before school pick up.

Hope you found all my now published blog posts from the last 3 days.

 

Day 46

Day 46 

I don’t have to drive down the highway or walk into that bloody department today. I feel better today, I think I am way passed tired. I drove in to my driveway this morning to my family driving out. I cried. They were going to the skate park so I could sleep. I asked my husband to drive me to my Papas birthday lunch, he said yes. I cried. I choked down muesli and yoghurt, camomile tea and magnesium tablets then tried not to vomit it back up when I had a shower that left me light headed from the heat. I don’t remember getting into bed. I remember waking up at 9.28am thinking it was 9.28pm and that I had to get ready for work. With a racing heart and a confused head I figured it was morning not night and curled up and went back to sleep for another hour.

By the time that we got to lunch, I felt like I had a bad hang over, but had a delicious lunch and a great time spent with my family.

Today was the Bathurst 1000. I don’t know anything about cars or car racing, I really had no clue what I was watching, and it was a testament to how deliriously tired I was, that I sat on the lounge chair after a shower and changed into my pyjamas at 2.30pm and watched cars going around in a circle. I was completely into it and watched it until the winner crossed the finish line. Even had a little cry when the winner made his speech – don’t  know who he was, but I was happy for him and his accomplishments.

It is 5.15pm after our massive lunch, I have just had a dinner of avocado on toast, my husband has taken boy 1 to work and boy 2 is playing soccer next door. I am planning on being in bed in the next 15 minutes when hubby and boy 2 get home.

 

End of day 46

This is a short sweet post but has taken me forever to write.

Excited I can sleep in my bed all night.

Not taking a pyjama photo, so the feature photo is one from when I was having dinner with a girlfriend.

 

Day 43

Day 43

 

This afternoon, I am mourning the loss of my favourite pair of thongs. They broke this morning when I was reaching up to get in to my four wheel drive. I wore these black little pieces of rubber everywhere. I bought them at Seaworld on the Gold Coast when the boys and I were there celebrating the birthday of my besties boy three years ago.  They were instantly comfortable. They didn’t need wearing in like most of the cheaper types.  There was no blisters in between my big toe and my second toe and they fitted perfectly.

Those thongs had some stories to tell, they have walked in a mothers footsteps. I wore them every day for school drop off and pick up, grocery runs, they were at all most every Wednesday morning coffee, they went to majority of the Tuesday and Thursday cricket training and every Saturday cricket game. They have been to the hinterlands of the Gold coast, Sunshine coast and northern New South Wales. They have been on beaches from the top end of the Sunshine coast to the glorious beaches of Northern New South Wales. They have stepped in cow shit, and saved me from barb like thistles in the paddocks of my sisters property in south west Queensland.

They were worn with jeans and skirts, cute little shorts, and maxi dresses. I wore them with socks in winter. They went from being too big for my boys, to, too small for my boys.

I have just re-read this and can’t decide if I am deliriously tired after my 17 hr work day yesterday or a complete bogan for writing a post about a my favourite pair of thongs breaking.

End of day 43

Back to work, I tried to have a sleep earlier and the dog started howling and a bird was tapping on my bedroom window.

Did a search for book publishers, for when I go to Europe and write a book about it. Found a self-publishing option via Hay house called Balboa press.

Love the big tree in the feature photo.

Day 41

Day 41.

Our home is devoid of boy’s voices and their presence today and I feel a bit lost. There wasn’t the frantic rush and nagging this morning to get ready for school, where is your belt, where is your tie. I was parked on the drive way watching my boy close the gate, and he had on his belt and his tie and it was 8.00am and we were already on our way to start a new school term. “I love you extra hard this morning mate, you are wearing your belt and tie and we didn’t argue about it.” “mmmmm” he says with the tiniest, tiniest of movement of lips towards a smile, he didn’t smile though.

We live in a Queenslander home, it was originally located at West End in Brisbane city and previous owners relocated it to where we are now. I always wanted to live in a Queenslander. Our house has so much character and imperfections. Whoever moved it here didn’t do a great job of getting the height to standard, because everyone except children have to duck when they walk under our house. There are small, tiny gaps between floor boards and walls where wind whistles through in the winter. None of the doors shut properly and if there you place a ball on our kitchen floor it will roll away.  Our toilet that is in the bathroom reminds me of a public toilet. There is a single floor board outside of our bedroom door that creaks when you stand on it. It is a home that makes its own music, the tin roof pops with expansion or compression in the heat and the cold. The floorboards in the lounge room echo when they are walked on. Windows without screens and trees nearby, mean that bird sounds pour through our windows, along with the occasional butcher bird that likes to sit on my kitchen bench and mozzies and sand-flies that like to feast on my family. All of these noises kept me company today with no children around.

I sat with a cuppa and eggs on toast and finished the book that my sister recommend to me the language of flowers. Don’t know if book club books are my thing, but then maybe they are because, I either hate the book or wouldn’t usually read that style or make me think a lot.  I finished this one, I loved the start and hated the middle and I yelled are you serious at the end. I thought she was a selfish bitch, who never really grew up. I know that she was an orphaned foster kid, but the people surrounding her showed her love, kindness and how to be a decent human and she learnt nothing. There was certain parts in the book that made no sense and I found very frustrating. (I won’t go into it too much don’t want to spoil it), glad I read it only because I can have an in-depth chat to my sister about it.

End of day 41

Just got called in to do an overtime shift tonight.

Want someone to pay me to write so I don’t have to work night shift.

Day 30

Day 30.

Worked all day today, like alllllllll day. I got here at 6.15am for a 7.00am start,  the traffic was supposed to be dreadful because of railway closures, so I left home early and had a cuppa before work.

I have ended up with a 16 hour shift because of the amount of people on annual leave for the school holidays and we have no one to call in.  So I will take the overtime hours and the money.

 Even though I have been stuck inside a building where I can’t see outside, I have experienced some beautiful things today.  I packed an apple for my morning tea this morning (I don’t usually eat fruit, my husband usually force feeds it to me after he has cut it up.) Anyway, the crunchy, juicy, sweet pink lady apple was a delicious morning tea.

This afternoon, in the middle of a crazy, busy time with a line up of people in front of me, I glanced down at my phone to see that my husband had sent me a pretty picture of one of the roses from our garden. With a beatiful message with it.

The third beautiful thing that I experienced today was the sunset.  My lovely friend and colleague came back from her tea break, the place was crazy busy still but she kicked me out of my desk and told me to go outside and look at the sunset.  I know the look on my face, told her I thought she had gone crazy because of how busy we were. She demanded I get outside go for a walk and look at the sunset. So glad I did because the red, pink, apricot, orange, yellow, and blue was worthy of beautiful and elegant poetry.

End of day 30

Not the end yet, but need to get back to work .

And just realised that I have stuck at this challenge for one month.

 

Day 27

Day 27.

Today has consisted of:

Me writing my feature post for tomorrow. I love the process of interviewing and chatting to the awesome ladies that generously share some of their stories. I record the chat on my phone and make notes when I get home (that rhymes).  I try and forget about it, because after the interview I am on a bit of a high. And have so many ideas on how I want to write the piece, but I have found if I let myself settle for a couple of days, and then listen to the chat and read over my notes I get more out of it. I hear things I forgot about, or hear new bits of the conversation that I didn’t pick up on in the chat. So today, I sat and listened to my chat via Skype with Daphne. It was a terrible connection and there was bit and pieces of the chat that dropped out, but overall it was a good talk. I could have chatted for hours to Daphne about writing and life on her little Greek island, while she smoked her cigarette, in her new office. I was so caught up in listening to the recording, I almost forgot to go to my hairdresser appointment.

I love my hair, after getting my hair cut, coloured and styled. But I cannot stand the process. I actually hate sitting in the chair for two and a half to three hours. I mean don’t get me wrong, I have an awesome hairdressing salon that I go to, and the girl’s there are absolutely lovely and crazy skilled in their profession. I just have this weird trait that makes me dislike massages, sitting for 3hours getting my hair done and shopping. If I go shopping I am in and out. I don’t browse. If I can’t find what I am looking for in the first like half an hour, I am out, done, finished, obviously didn’t need what I was looking for cause I couldn’t find it.

Tonight will be homemade pizza. One meat lovers for the boy’s and a vege with loads of mushrooms for me. Then we are off to the Montessori school production, which is always held on the eve of the last day of school for the 3rd term.  Need to be there by 5.45pm and it finishes at 9.00pm.

 

End of day 27

Feeling slightly insane at the moment, one child is blaring country music at one end of the house. The other, is playing some sort of rap, or some such thing and the singer/computer whatever who is making that incessant noise, has 4 words to work with to make up the whole song. I am sure my ears are going to start bleeding.

Feeling the post-holiday blues about going back to work tomorrow. I didn’t have holidays, but 4 days off and I am not jumping for joy at starting at 7.00am tomorrow.

Day 26

Day 26

Apparently this week, is the week, I need to learn to live without essential services for a while. No power yesterday, no water today. We had our solar hot water replaced.  It was only for a few hours, but I forgot to fill the kettle up, so no coffee after school drop off. No washing was done either, no floors washed, they did get a vacuum. My husband was a roof plumber for 15 years, and it just so happened that the company that installed our new hot water system, was a company that he previously worked with. So he strapped on his tool belt and did the roofing part of the job. I admit I did sit outside eating toast, reading a magazine and watching the tradies work, can’t go past a good tradie. For 15 years he whinged and whined about how much he hated roofing, well today when he finished with his tools, and put away the ladders, he told me how good it felt to be back on the tools and work with a crew. I smiled sweetly like a good wife and took this comment with a grain of salt, knowing the depth of his hatred for roofing, I knew this was just him feeling nostalgic.

This proved true when this afternoon he was feeling stiff and sore in his back and legs. So I kindly offered to do some yoga with him. He laughed, mocked and couldn’t take the yoga instructor directing us on the IPod seriously at all, during the whole 40 minute session. He did say that he felt a bit better afterwards, not sure how. Maybe it was all the laughing.

My first born had to work this afternoon (feature photo is me doing pickup). It is still surreal for me to have a child that is now working. Another stage of motherhood, I am learning to navigate. When they are babies, you teach them to hold things, and colours, numbers. When they are 14 you teach them work ethic, to make sure that they are organised with school, sport, and work. We are trying to teach him the value of his hard earned money and how to look after it. We have told him that he has to have, $500 in his account before he can start spending money on his version of luxury items, that $500 is his zero balance. That his pay will be divided in spending and saving and everyday money. This was a tough talk. I thought we was going to do damage to his eyes with the amount of eye rolling going on, and put a kink in his neck with the way he was throwing his head back and saying “oh my god”.  Kinda reminded me, of when he was three and I wouldn’t let him use all the baby wipes to clean the sand pit. This motherhood gig, I think I have figured out a small part of it is all about stages and growth and getting through the best I can, while teaching them to be decent humans. And today was about work and money for the big one, and not wrecking the 4th pair of school shoes for this year for the little one.

End of day 26.

Two days until school holidays

Still laughing about the ridiculous yoga session, feels good to be connecting with him over stupid stuff instead of stressful stuff.

Day 21

Day 21

As I rolled out of bed this morning, I hear this “you didn’t sleep at all last night.” I was so tired my response was a grunt. I didn’t sleep because my shifts are all over the place, and I was stressing about today.

There was nothing to stress about today, but I don’t like having a day absolutely back to back full of stuff.

Get kids organised for school,

Do school drop off,

Braces face (my husband) had a dentist appointment at 9.00am,

He wanted to take me for a massage but I changed it to reflexology. Because I am not a fan of massages, I really don’t like strangers touching me, the couple of massages that I have had, I end up leaving more stressed than before, cause I want to tell the masseuse to stop touching me. I didn’t get either as we had no time.

Instead we went to Chocolateria San Churros, I had the Azteca – there description this is classic Spanish with a merry measure of chilli and cinnamon spice hot chocolate. Honest to god, this deliciousness was so decadent. The chocolate taste was perfect and then there was the burn on the back of my tongue and throat from the chilli, best hot chocolate ever.

We raced home and I made a big batch of spaghetti and then raced off to a hairdresser appointment. I was a bit worried because my hairdresser left and I couldn’t get an appointment before her last day. So I got her replacement. I love going to the hairdresser because I have this thick mop of hair that needs controlling, and I am so much lighter when the clippers and razor have worked their magic. However I am not one for a chatty hairdresser, I do however get goose bumps when they wash my hair and massage my head. I ended up with an awesome haircut and will definitely go back to the new cutter who also provided my perfect amount of chatter.

I headed home with my new hair, after bumping into mum at the hairdresser. I came home and was re-arranging sentences, replacing words and picking apart my feature blog post for #mesistertribe tomorrow.

School pickup was next, and then rushed to second session of cricket training for the week, which was then cancelled because of rain. In lieu of bowling and batting, we went instead and spent the time with my niece who celebrated her first birthday today.

The spaghetti that I made earlier, was garlicky and the perfect flavour of tomato for dinner. The dishes were washed and put away and kitchen cleaned in record time, before my 7.00pm interview with author of 100 days of Solitude, Daphne Kapsali.

It is now 8.54pm, kids safely tucked up in bed. I hugged and kissed them a little harder and longer tonight, after some tragic news from my sister’s community in South West Queensland.

And all of that is why I didn’t sleep last night.

End of day 21.

Big, massive happy birthday to my niece and to my brother in law. I love you both.

I need to go and iron clothes for tomorrow.

Day 2

I woke up feeling hung over, I did not sleep at all last night.  I jad just published a blog post featuring my mum she was the first woman of #mesistertribe blog posts, I felt
happy with and proud of the writing (at the time).  From the minute I hit the blue publish button, I was thinking that I needed to change it again for the 450
th time. I had a thesaurus running around in my brain swapping words around in the post,
then I started restructuring sentences,  I was at one point going to get my butt out of bed and delete the whole post.
 I tossed and turned, curled myself up in a ball, laid flat on my back, flipped on to my stomach.  My husband approached me this
morning, while I was chugging coffee and said “your thinking kept me awake all bloody night, get ready we will go to the beach, before we go to work.”

So we went to the beach so they all could surf and I could be the sunbaking groupie on the beach. I sprawled on the beach enjoying the winter sun beating down on my pasty white legs.
I cheered my boy’s on with their surfing, I watched another father try and teach his extremely unenthusiastic boy to surf.  I sent out “back off” vibes to the wet and sandy long haired dog running and jumping on unsuspecting victims sunbaking on the beach. At
one point I closed my eyes, concentrated on my breathing and listened to the pulsing sound of the waves.
 

” I will not check my phone to look at the reaction to the blog post”

” I should check my phone to look at the reaction to the blog post”.

” Relax. Concentrate on breathing and the waves”

” Have the boys got sunscreen on”

” Should of worn my bikinis instead of shorts and shirt”.

I eventually gave up on my poor attempt at meditating to the sound of the ocean. I couldn’t help myself, I looked at my phone, checked the blog post and had a couple of supportive
comments saying I written beautiful words about my Mum.
I don’t have a huge number of followers, but I have an awesome following of engaged readers that take the time to read my writing, like and comment. This means a lot
to me and their comments this morning went a long way to shutting up the evil little devil – insecurity, that tap dances through my heart, belly and mind whenever I hit publish.

End of day 2:

Mum liked the blog post.

I worked in my usual department, so totally in my comfort zone. (unlike day 1)

My husband gifted me with a chocolate bar filled with jelly and popping candy.