Room with a view…

I’ve been a bit sick lately.

Sleeping a lot.

The kids have been home on holidays so I set them up with snacks, entertainment, water bottles etc and go back to bed.

I hear their footsteps on the floorboards as they come to ask me a question/dob on each other/ask for something else that they know I’m going to say no to.

The other day when my eldest son knocked on the door I told him to come in to my office.

“Mum. It’s a bedroom, not an office”.

Yes. He’s right. But I’ve spent so much time in bed lately that it feels like it’s my occupation.

(And no. Not in a dominatrix or sex worker kind of way. Far too tired for that kind of work. Although I woke up with a pulled muscle in my butt today.)

I change the sheets regularly to keep the room fresh. To change the view.

I burn candles, read books and watch the tennis.

(As a side note if you are going to get sick and need rest always plan to do so during a major sporting event.)

I’m spending less time in my office this week. I even went to my real job and spent time in the office there.

But the best part of spending time in bed has been watching the trees move outside my window and hearing the birds serenade each other.

Seeing the colours of the huge gum tree change as the sun goes up and down.

Watching the world from the same spot all day helps you see how different every day is.

No I’m not on any medication that is causing me to be all sappy and reflective. (Just panadeine and nurofen.)

Back in the real world the pace is quick and I sometimes miss the little things like seeing the wind moving the leaves.

But I’m glad to be up and at em again.

And for those of you are wondering shingles is definitely not the new black.

Don’t go changing…

It’s kind of funny how tears as in crying and tears as in ripping are spelt the same.

Sometimes it’s the tearing that causes the tears.

Things tear apart often.

Sometimes they are torn on purpose.

Sometimes it’s an accident.

And sometimes it’s someone that you love so much moving away from you and the thought that they won’t be there anymore when you need them tears your heart into pieces and small tears fall slowly down my cheeks.

They know it and you know it.

It won’t be the same anymore and you’re supposed to be happy for them.

And you are.

But you’re devastated for you.

I loathe change.

I want everything to stay the same.

I want all the people I love to be close.

But I wish you all the happiness in the world.

Throwback Monday…

When I was in Primary School we had a mime concert to raise money for something or other.

Possibly more basketballs for the gym. You know how these things go.

So the mime concert. It wasn’t like that whole mime pretending to be in a box thing.

It was miming along to a song.

On the day of the mime concert there were plenty of girls in ra ra skirts and crimped hair miming to Kylie and Madonna.

There were a couple of boys with mullets miming along to whatever boys mimed along to.

And then there was me with my cardboard cut out guitar miming along to Billy Joel’s version of Back in the USSR.

I think this might have been a turning point in my life.

My first public display of oddness.

My first taste of an audience looking at me and thinking WTFruitcake is up with this girl?

My performance was flawless but these kids couldn’t relate to my art.

(The ridiculously long guitar solo in the middle may not have helped my cause.)

That might have been how it started.

But this is who I am. xx

Gene pool reflections…

I am the mother of 2 boys.

I remember when the youngest was born and people said to me “two the same”.

Nah. Not even close.

These boys are very different from each other. But not different from me.

I see so much of myself in both of them.

The youngest is wacky, zany and silly. He thinks way outside the square.

He has my oddness.

But my eldest son has my sensitivity and my need to please.

At school he is the happy kid that everyone wants to play with and the teachers love.

And then he comes home and crashes because it’s hard to be happy all day.

Last night we were having a chat at bedtime and he gave me a cuddle and I asked if he was okay.

He shook his head. Are you sick? No. Is something wrong? No. Are you sad? Yes.

He was sad and didn’t know why.

I told him it was okay to just have a cry sometime and he started to sob.

He cried for about 5 minutes and then he stopped and just started talking about normal stuff.

And of course it broke my heart. The sadness in him.

Maybe he was just over tired but he needed permission to cry.

It wasn’t all that long ago when I didn’t like myself that much that I didn’t really like my kids either.

I loved them and would do anything for them but I didn’t really like them.

And now I do. So much.

I admit a major bias when I say that they are amazing and fill my heart to overflowing every day.

I miss them now when we’re apart.

I still like being apart though.

These people I had a fairly significant part in creating are wonderful.

I love them and I love seeing myself in them.

I hope they keep loving themselves too.


One of the better ones…

As a serial whinger of bad days I should probably also take time to document the good ones.

Yesterday was one of the better days that I’ve had in a while.

Woke up on the right side of the universe.

Enjoyed my porridge with summer berries in bed with my book.

And a coffee. And then another coffee because I think the machine is still running a bit too fast.

But I digress.

I went food shopping with the kids and nobody died.

The 5 year old nearly ran into a little old lady using a walking stick in the baking aisle but other than that it was good.

We made it home and I got to watch some cricket on the telle while eating the very last mince tart of the season.

I made a huge batch of bolognese sauce in the slow cooker and then ended up freezing it in batches because the family all went bowling.

We had fun.

I had fun.

I kept bowling to the left though. Not sure what that’s about.

It was a good day.

(And that was without me even mentioning that I bought 2 large tins of chocolates for $8.)

I’m not sure what made it such an okay day. I wish I did so that I could replicate it.

But thank heavens for small mercies or something like that.

A good day amidst a sea of blue leaves me looking on the bright side.


Highway number one…

We are back from our week away.

The drive wasn’t so bad. Apart from the part when I was in a bad mood for most of it and my bum went numb while I was driving.

My mind may have wondered over the 11 hour journey as to how many other people were nagging their partners in their cars.

Driving too fast, driving too slow, over taking too late, ducking back in front of the car you’ve overtaken too soon and the P platers that are only allowed to do 90.

There was also the moment when my husband told me to turn right out of the service station and I assumed that he meant left but he did actually mean right so I performed a slightly erratic U turn to prove a point.

Not sure what the point was. But I proved it.

I saw big windmills, beautiful countryside and native road kill.

I listened to a classic countdown that included Elton John and The Bangles.

I freaked out slightly because the mini chocolate Christmas puddings were melting so I quickly ate them.

I only needed to go to the toilet twice and was unsympathetic to the needs of others.

When we got home I slept for 14 hours.

I’m not sure that I travel well with others.

Tomorrow has been declared a family pajama day.

There will be no travel.

There will probably still be some nagging though.