Holiday, it would be so nice…

I’m in the second week of the school holidays and I’ve hardly thought about work at all.

I’ve also felt calmer and more able to adapt to life and it’s adventures.

(Didn’t plan on spending two nights this week adapting to being a cleaner of vomit and nurse to my sons but adapt I have.)

I am not adaptable generally though.

Throughout my teen years I worried so much about things that didn’t happen.

Would stress myself silly worrying about getting somewhere on time.

Once I’d passed my drivers license I worried constantly about where to park when I was going somewhere and if I would get lost.

(I always got lost and I usually managed to get a car park.)

I worried about things that nobody else had thought of and then worried about why I was worried and why they weren’t.

I stressed myself into hospital at 19 with a weird spasmodic twitching issue. Brain scans, lumber punctures and all the rest came back normal so it was put down as stress.

This first started as I was preparing to quit my first job.

I didn’t want to let anyone down.

I worked one day a week in a bakery and they’ve managed to continue to trade until this day despite my absence.

I am not responsible for the universe turning despite what I seem to think.

I had a session with my psychologist recently and he suggested that I’m loathe to let anyone down or say no to calls for help but that I also loathe myself.

I didn’t disagree with that.

I don’t really like me all that much.

I think I could be better and do more.

I obviously think well enough of myself to think I’m the only one who can fix problems but I hate the way I feel afterwards.

It’s a lovely little spiral that hasn’t been so bad without work putting its 2 cents in for the past two weeks and I’ve also had my husband around to buy bananas on his way home from work and get the boys to bed.

So I’m in a lull. Holiday mode. Cruise control on, good music on the radio and a decent coffee in the cup holder. So to speak.

Enjoying it while it lasts. xx


It’s been 9 years today since I had major abdominal surgery and became a mum.

It’s been 9 years since I landed the best job on earth.

9 years since I learned that if you try real hard you can worry about everything that might go wrong and still be exhausted when it doesn’t.

9 years since I fell in love expecting nothing in return.

My beautiful boy turned 9 and spent most of the night and morning vomiting.

Spaghetti bolognese is off the menu for a while.

My poor little man was crying and asking why he couldn’t stop vomiting on his birthday.

And because I’m downright weird and I act inappropriately all the time I got the giggles.

This kid understands and gets me more than most of my friends.

He is intuitive and picks up on subtleties and knows when to just hug me.

He tells me that he loves me and helps me with his younger brother a lot.

He is emotional and feels things deeply.

He is also observant and kind.

On Friday night we were boarding a plane and the lady checking our tickets was very friendly.

As we were walking to the plane he looked at me and said “Mum that lady is joyful just like you.”

And I just stopped and thanked him.

I know that he sees how hard it is for me sometimes when his little brother is angry and won’t listen to me especially when his Dad is away traveling.

He knows my moods and when not to push me.

He knows when I need coffee.

He still kisses me goodbye in the school car park and doesn’t even care if his friends see.

He makes me be a better person.

I am proud of him and proud to be his Mum.

If only I could get him to eat his vegetables.



I don’t know if I’ve told you this before but I often (and I mean daily) have the urge to retweet traffic information that is not relevant to me or anyone I know.

Just the thought of it makes me laugh. Like I’m a cutting edge ironic tweeter of things that are irrelevant.

This is the way my brain works.

It’s not always normal.

Although according to some of the people I’ve met while I was a patient at a Mental Health Hospital, normal is just a cycle on the washing machine.

Today I attended a professional development session on mathematics in preschools.

I won snakes and ladders and the chocolate muffins were the most amazing things ever. They had heaps of chocolate in them and cut up chocolate brownie on top.

Anyway I thought that today I might have a go at being shy.

By the end of the course I was apologising to everyone about talking so much and making it all about me.


Give me a silence and I will fill it. In fact I will fill it for so long it will go into the next silence, which is soooooo much more awkward than the first one.

I have the strongest urge to make other people feel comfortable. To make them feel better.

But as I’ve said before lately I end up feeling like a fool after putting myself out there and saying too much.

So it’s just a little bit easier to stay away from people for my own sake.

I need to work out who I am and how to stop being so much of that person all the time because it’s exhausting.

I’m so tired when I get home from a day of being happy around 4 year olds and being calm when I sometimes just really want to scream.

I’m tired of my colleagues not reading my mind. How dare they?

I’ve got a history of burning out in Term 4. Sometime around late October and early November the house of cards doesn’t just fall down it goes down in flames with me making ridiculous small talk to the fireman as he saves me from the burning deck.

But… I only work 3 days so it’s now officially my weekend.

And I can hide and sleep. Which is kind of like hide and seek except that I get really annoyed when people wake me up.

Good night. xx