A Year Later

Dave and I having a conversation in the kitchen this evening, fuelled by wine and beer, about this current moment. A year on... whats happened and what hasn't.

I'm writing again... after a 6 month break. It may not last but I found myself writing this blog in the shower and at the dinner table and on the ride home today...so here it is.

I am a different person. I am stronger and more vulnerable at the same time.
For the first time in my life I am an adult. I mean that in the saddest, least teenage fantasy, beige tax accountant kind of way.
At 35, nearly 36, I have for the first time in my life experienced a year of life, when I alone am responsible for my own happiness without the comforting, soft landing of Mum.

I am not sure I am qualified for this. I am different to who I thought I was. Better? maybe. Worse? sure, sometimes.

I am a fitter, healthier, weirder, sadder, more aware, less oblivious, more honest, less childish, more average, darker person. It has been the hardest year, which has, in turn, made me able to do and with stand harder things.

I dont believe she is with us, or watching over us. I am sorry, I just don't feel it. I wish with all my being that she was an ethereal being following my every move and guiding me from afar, but thats not true. The closest thing I can see is that she is in me, my memories and my actions because she taught me. But if the Disney version of Ghost Mum existed, with her harp and her halo and her wings, sitting on her fluffy cloud watching me and the girls and Dave and Dad, I think she would be proud of the fact that even though it is different and it has sucked and we miss her terribly, we have lived. We have moved forward inch by inch and we will continue to.

Is 2017 that balm that we need to sooth the ragged edges left by 2016? Nah, I doubt it, but if I can write another blog in a years time, it means I have at least got my fingers, my brain and my Mac, so we will be ok....

How Much of it Matters?

I sometimes worry about the pieces of our lives that we haven't quite managed to pick up again, since Mum died, since coming back from the trip.

The girls aren't doing any activities outside of school and home.  We are unscheduled.Which is lovely.
Some of the reason is financial, some of the reason is due to the hours we both now work. It means that my Dad has the bulk of all after school and early evening time and I want it to be peaceful and relaxed for all of them.

I worry about the skills they might be missing out on but it is also guilt. Am I a bad parent if my child doesn't participate in a team sport?  Have I doomed them to a life of couch potato or hanging out with the "wrong" crowd.

Then I read this awesome paragraph on the HONY page.

It answered my question.

“The hardest was when she left for college. We dropped her off a couple days early, so the campus was empty, and I have this very clear image of her walking alone across the quad. I stared at my daughter’s back while she literally walked into the next phase of her life. So many questions were running through my mind: ‘Did we prepare her enough? Is she happy? Will she feel comfortable enough to tell us if she’s not?’ Looking back, I wish I hadn’t fretted so much over the small stuff. When she was young, we were worried so much about whether she started on the soccer team, or if she got chosen for the front row at the dance competition, or if she was playing flute at the recital. We worried so much about that stuff because we were looking for any sort of validation that we were doing a good job. And in our desperation to be good parents we became our children. I wish I knew how fast all that stuff would fade away. And how little any of that would matter once she became an adult.”

Thank you random New Yorker. You have helped me more than you know.

 

Can I help you?

Recently, I felt like I had let some people down. I'm not going into the nitty gritty, It's not solely my story to tell, however I can tell you how I felt. Guilty, sad and slightly paralyzed. As in, the more I worried, the less I could do.

When I finally got around to thanking the people, the people who did all the things I couldn't, and apologizing. This is what they said:

"You are doing a glorious job, you are doing exactly what you are supposed to do. Right now it wasn't your turn. One day, there will be someone or something. At that time you will be able to help, you will be in the position to do all the things you wished you could have done now. It will not only help them but it will help you. When that chance comes, take it".

Just like that, I went from feeling like a failure and thinking that others thought the same, to feeling loved and happy. One massive act of kindness changed my mindset completely to the point, now, where I am looking forward to having the opportunity to help in the future, whomever and whenever that may be, instead of being weighed down by all of the crap in my head.

This is something I can do. Write about kindness and hope that it inspires some in the world today.

Sometimes a kind word or gesture is you need.

SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!!

If you won lotto tomorrow... what would you do?

For the sake of the exercise lets say you win $5 million.

Would you become a "Patron" or "Spokesperson" or some other rich person title that no one is sure what the hell you actually do?

Travel? sure... but how? private jet? super launch? into space with Crazy Arsed Mr Branson? Hoverboard?

Here are my top 5...

1) House on the beach...not sure exactly where but Perth has the best beaches
2) A couple of years off to see more the world, 6 months was just not enough. South Africa, Canada, Hawaii, Bora Bora, Japan, New Zealand and then back to France
3) Personal trainer and chef because I would be an absolute lard arse in all this luxury
4) Family and friends. It feels good to give and to help....
5) 2 million to invest wisely and hopefully live off for the remainder of our very enjoyable lives

Sounds boring I know, but $5 mill in my hands would disappear like...well...my money, so I have to be conservative in my dreams or I am likely to end up blogging about the time I accidently spent $5 mill at Typo and Kikki K.

 In the mean time my budget stretches to luxury candles and that kind of smells like wealthy...

Got my shit together??????

So, what does it take to feel like you have your shit together?

Leaving the house with knickers that match your bra or  just leaving the house with knickers.........

Is it having your nails done? clean sheets on your bed? picking up your floordrobe so that all the dust bunnies are set free??

I had a day of forced organisation today. My grandmother has relocated back to Portugal. Today I transported a car full of 27 years worth of kitchen goods, jars, tupperware, cookware etc.

My pantry has never contained a labelled jar, my tupperware has always bred lids for no containers and my pots go where they fit, anytime, anywhere.

Not anymore, I have tupperware up the wazoo, labelled glass jars, I have cooked ahead meals for the week and made layered salads for my lunches, I even have a labelled jar of smoked paprika for christs sake.


I think this classifies as having my shit together... I just have to invite everyone to my kitchen to prove it...

Stop the world...I want to get off

Stop the world... I want to get off.

Not forever, just for a little while. I think a fortnight would do.

All the balls I had up in the air have fallen on my head and now I am flailing around in a ball pit like a drunken seal.

A fortnight, to start at one end of my world and spring clean through the bitch until I come out of the other side like a beautiful "I've got my shit together" butterfly.

I know I am not the only one. Everyone has problems and a lot of you wonderful people handle them with a hell of a lot more finesse than I can muster.

It shouldn't take me 20 minutes to decide to take a shower and I shouldn't wonder around aimless for two hours because its my day off and I would normally have met Mum.

I can't pack up and live here, I know.

I had to visit here in order to get where I am heading....but in the mean time, can someone just handle all the adult stuff for me?

I'll be in the corner, writing my blog and facebooking about cats. Cheers

P.S I just read a news article about a person who was arrested after floating down a river in their wheelie bin, drinking a bottle of wine. I swear it wasn't me....today anyway

How do you know its true love??

I arrived home from work today and found Dad sad.
He had been reading his old letters to Mum. There was a lovely poem in one.
It was true love between my Mum and Dad, but not because of the poetry.

It wasn't perfect, it wasn't sudden. It required a lot, like heaps, of work and compromise.
Mum was a young Portuguese woman, who had been ill, marrying a widowed older man with a son...In a different country. But I know from the stories and I can see in the photos that there was always laughter and friendship. There was also a solid 12 months of serious wooing on my Dads part :)

I am not sure what it felt like from their point of view...but I can give my own perspective, a kids perspective, on why I knew it was love.

Nick names, they had many and varied nick names for each other, a constantly evolving list, some serious and some funny. Like "Nudibranch". It was the nickname Dad used for Mum when she "streaked" to the bathroom. She did this a lot.

Every morning and every evening they greeted each other with a kiss, every morning Dad made mum breakfast or at least coffee.

They laughed at each other. Mum did many funny and crazy things.
Dad also copped his fair share from Mum. When Dad was younger and rocked an awesome moustache, he looked a lot like John Cleese. Mum and Dad went to see "A fish called Wanda" in the cinema. Apparently Mum spent most of the time pointing at Dad and then pointing at the screen and losing it with laughter, so much so that Dad got up and left the cinema. They were real.

They knew each other, faults and all. Dad would never stop Mum, no one could anyway. But right or wrong, Dad would let Mum go and do her own things and was always there to pick up any pieces. Mum, conversely supported Dad and through all the ups and downs they were always, always on the same team.

Compromise. Mum liked to eat chinese take away from the Fremantle markets on the weekend. Dad loved to listen to classical music and read the paper. The result was that every Saturday we would get takeaway and sit in the car at the South Mole in freo, listening to Dads music and watching the ocean, while he read the paper. One of my favourite memories, is sitting in the backseat with the calvin and hobbes comics and a whopper.....

Mum once said that Dad was her "safe". No matter what she had done or how ill she became, she knew that Dad would be there for her and help her. Nobody knew her better.

I didn't realise how lucky I was to have them as my example of marriage.
Now I am sad. This weekend is Mothers Day and also My Mums Birthday. This is for the lady who taught me what love is.