Monday, October 26

The Grandmother

She had always known that life wasn’t meant to be easy but she could not understand why it had to be this hard either. Sure having to struggle made you appreciate what you had but was it really necessary for everything to be a struggle? Had she not already done her fair share of hardships? Weren’t these later years in life meant to be full of enjoyment and relaxation? Apparently not. According to her life path there were still at least a dozen more tussles through life that she had to face and that was just in the next week!

The grandchildren were coming to stay with her. Thankfully that awful daughter in law, Melodie, couldn’t make it so she would have a chance to talk to her son alone. Perhaps she might even be able to teach those ratty children a thing or two about manners. She had long given up trying while their mother was around. Useless waste of space that she was.

It had been nearly ten years since that Melodie had married her son Jack and Rose still failed to see what the attraction was. Right from the moment she first lay eyes on her she knew that she was up to no good. There was just something that alerted Rose to the possibility of Melodie not being all that her son thought she was. Something in the way she acted and spoke screamed to Rose that Melodie would never love Jack the way he truly deserved.

Poor Jack. He had such a hard time growing up. Always friends with all the girls, yet no one ever managed to see the real boy behind the front. So caring and attentive he was always there to pick up the pieces of their broken hearts. Not that any of them deserved any of his attention. They just went to him when their egos needed a boost. They were all floozies, well all except one. Rachel. Such a beautiful person both inside and out. She had so much in common with Jack, yet for some reason they never really had a chance to connect in the way Rose wished for. Mind you their time together was only brief. Rachel’s young life was tragically brought to an end much too soon. Just another of life’s unfair blows.

Rose often thought back to Rachel and it was always with great fondness. She was by no means a catwalk model but she did have all the right bits in all the right places and the personality of an angel. Again though, few people ever took the time to really get to know her or understand where she was coming from. She was such a quiet girl and more times than not would just get lost in the crowd. Much like Jack. Perhaps that was why the were drawn to each other. Even at such an early age they recognised the kindred spirits that they were. Or at least the kindred spirits that Rose thought they should have been.
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Monday, October 19

The joy of running (away from chores)

Monday seems to be the only day at the moment where I can actually make the time to make myself sit down and spew out a few words. Probably not actual writing, but better than nothing.

I pass by these beauties on my run, they always make me smile
This morning as I was pondering over how this post would pan out I thought it would go along the lines of explaining how I am just not coping with the whole being a working mother thing. Despite my hours not being full time and only being of a night. The house is somewhat a lot, shambolic. If we were still living in the topics you would be forgiven for thinking that there had been an internal cyclone. Since we don't live in the tropics you will probably just assume (rightly) that I am a terrible housekeeper.

However since that point in time, when we were invariably running late for school, unable to find a missing shoe and goggles, all while foraging through a rather empty cupboard in the hope food would magically appear because who has time to go food shopping amongst everything else that is expected of them? My outlook has changed a little.

You see while we were terribly late for school, it was pretty much the first time all year, and most definitely the first time this term. Which compared to our efforts prior to #ouradventureofalifetime is a major achievement. Not only that but after depositing late children at school I took myself off for a run. A run that saw me do 5km in 45 minutes. By no means a land record but I was actually able to not walk for a huge portion of that distance. I did a five minute warm up walk and then ran for a solid ten minutes, at which point I gave into my gasping lungs and allowed myself to slow down and walk for an entire minute. After which I got straight back into it and huffed and puffed away for a further ten minutes. The next twenty minutes saw me walking for thirty seconds every five minutes, but man did I feel all kinds of awesome when I was done.

There was certainly no denying that my coffee was earned today.

Any my point is that the awesomeness of my run led me to forgot all the crap I was feeling about all the things I hadn't done.

All those dastardly chores are still waiting to be done. The house still appears to be a disaster zone but I no longer feel so terrible about it all. Eventually the kitchen will be clean, the floors washed and all the washing will be neatly folded in the cupboard rather than strewn across the laundry floor waiting to be washed.

For now though I have probably wasted enough time and should actually get to doing at least some of  the things that need to be done.

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Monday, October 12

Procrastination at it's best

I sat down at least half an hour ago. The plan had been to write a list of the things I needed to do today. Lord knows there are plenty of them and more than anything I want to be organised and productive. It is the only way I am going to even have a chance of staying afloat and getting done all that is expected.

Mind you after taking far too many selfies with #SummertheBird who desperately wanted me to share my coffee with her I seem to have forgotten exactly what I thought was worthy of writing down. It goes without saying that there is washing to be done, because there is always washing to be done, be it washed, folded or put away, it is always there in some form if not all.

Much like the constant need to prepare food to feed the hungry and rarely satisfied masses with.


Oh and the dishes. How could I forget the dishes, another constant on the list of household jobs that all too often seem to consume our daily life. Or mine at least.

Cue even more sighing.

Much later in the day. Ok maybe not much just later, a little after lunch to be exact.

After scrawling the above in my notebook and flaffing about with a stupid dragon game The Little Two introduced me to I managed to do a few things that mildly resembled being productive. There was washing sorted and folded, some even made it to the cupboard, most didn't though, it is patiently sitting on my bed waiting for the girls to come home from school and see to it.

I also managed to sweep, clear most of the bench and lounge room as well as walk around in a daze not actually doing anything. All up I manage a good twenty minutes of work evenly spaced out over two hours. Not a bad effort really.

The last thirty minutes probably saw me achieve the most as hunger started to take hold. I had made a deal with myself that I couldn't eat till it at least looked a little like I had done something. The things we do hey?

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Tuesday, October 6

Looking back and moving on

I had thought that yesterday's post would have been enough to get me through today. I thought that I had dumped enough of my feelings enabling me to sail through today almost oblivious to what it marked.

Apparently I could not have been more wrong.

Thanks to Facebook and it's lovely 'you have memories from today' feature I was swiftly reminded of all the pain and sadness I have felt on this day over the last six years. Of course some might say that is what I get for checking Facebook before removing myself from the comfort of my bed but whatever.

So much sighing.

Proving that I really am a glutton for punishment that quite possibly wants to wallow in a pool of my own tears once I had finished torturing myself with my heartbreaking Facebook memories I trawled through the archive of my old blog to see what I had to say about it all over there.

The thing that I really love most about blogging is the record that it gives me. All the moments in time that I manage to capture and freeze for all eternity. Even on the saddest of days.

Over the past few days I have been thinking a lot about my writing and my blogs and what I want from it all and where I think it will go. Sadly a part of thinks the answer is nowhere.

As much as I may have a way with words and a story to tell, it is quite possibly not something that will ever be seen by the masses. And I think for the first time in a long time, possibly even ever, I am ok with that.

I haven't given up completely on the notion I will one day be a published author, just the notion that this space will break the internet, because it won't. This space is for me. For me to reminisce, to make sense of my thoughts, to save for years to come.

With that in mind here the collection of all the other posts I have written on this day. 200920112012201320132014. My mind is going into overdrive trying to work out what made me not write in 2010 and why the posts from 2013 actually talk about it June rather than now. My guess is that my grief in June was so great that by October I had figured I had gone on about it all enough.

With my new found attitude towards blogging, which will hopefully see me writing more, I have decided to step down from #teamIBOT. Unfortunately the last few months commenting on other people's blogs has felt somewhat of a chore. Which is not the way that it should be.

I want to get back to leaving a comment because the post touched me in some way not because I feel obligated. I just don't have it in me anymore to be the old blogging me that commented all over the place in the hope people would come by and do the same. I want readers who want to be here to see what I have to say rather than dropping by on account of some implied obligation to return comment love. This also means that I will not be joining in linkies (well after today) or hosting Thankful Thursday anymore.

Joining in with Jess for the last time for a bit and hoping that you will still keep popping by once in a while.

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Monday, October 5

Just another not so manic Monday

It's Monday morning. In a few short minutes the clock will be ticking over to nine. Which by most accounts is still relatively early. It does however feel as if I have been up for hours upon hours. Time is currently going painfully slow for me and I do not like it at all.

Last night went on forever.

After nearly two weeks of late nights and adjusting to night shifts I thought it would be wise to take the opportunity to have an early night and play sleep catch up. Dumbest idea ever. Apparently my body has decided that it doesn't need sleep for more than two hours at a time. Fun times right there.

Despite today being the start of the second week of school holidays, meaning I could have stayed in bed longer and prolonged the already longest night on earth, I rose with the sparrows, or at least Mr Awesome, as he does not have the blessing of school holidays and doing whatever it is his heart desires.

Tomorrow marks the six year anniversary of Dad's moving on to a better place. The end of his suffering as a mere mortal on this god for saken planet that lets the elderly linger on for what must feel like eternity for them as their bodies ever so slow stop working and start to shut down.

Death is such a funny thing. Especially in the elderly. 

I remember back to that fateful day and even through all my heart ache I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I was so glad that his pain had come to an end, that he would no longer have to suffer through each day wondering if it would be his last. Nor would I. 

For years my thoughts each day had been consumed with whether or not this would be the day that I had been dreading for as long I could remember. It was at times rather exhausting to say the least. Not to mention pointless but I it was a hard thing to shake. Fear is like that.

I was born when Dad was forty eight. A time in most people's life when becoming a parent is the last thing on their mind. 

Not my Dad though. 

He was forever saying he wasn't like everyone else. He was right. Over the next seven years he would go on to father two more children.

At the current tender age of thirty seven and with three children safely tucked under my belt, having more children is the last thing I want. I can't see that changing over the next ten years either. In ten years Teapot will be fifteen. The thought of starting over with the whole baby thing again then makes me shudder and want to curl up in a ball.

Not my Dad though. 

There was never any doubt as to how much he loved being a parent, even at that later stage in life. What's more is that it wasn't until I was well into my teens that I really started to realise just how much older he was compared to all my friends' fathers. 

He had always joked you are only as old as the woman you feel. For a long time I had just giggled not really understanding what it meant. My Mum is twenty one years his junior.

Generally speaking I go about my days not giving much thought to the fact that Dad is no longer with us. It is a part of life I have learnt to deal with. An inevitable part of life that I waited for, for so long that when it happened I just kept keeping on. At three and a half months pregnant I refused to feel grief for the fear of my unborn child having a sad soul.

Each year though as September draws to an end and October slowly gets underway I feel myself become somewhat consumed with an all encompassing sadness. All I can think of is my dear old Dad, how much I love him and how I will never ever get to see him again. Tears constantly well in my eyes begging for permission to roll down my cheeks. Rarely do I let them.

Except for when I write.

Writing is my solace. The place where I can truly be me. It gives me the chance to unravel my mind and find a place for my feelings to fit. It is my one true friend that lets me say what needs to be said.

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