Poor woe is me

It's late afternoon. The sun is well and truly on her descent for the day. I'm sitting on a chair in the garden trying to soak the last of her diminishing rays. The gentle breeze blowing by does not aid in my quest.

My eyes are red and burning. The residual sting of earlier tears lingering longer than I care for.

One dear customer left me with this today

I cried at work today.

On the checkouts.

While serving customers.

It took nearly four customers till I could pull myself together. I wasn't a complete blubbering mess but I know there was pain in my eyes that they could not help but to see.

My mind was doing the cruelest of things to me. It was so mean and hurtful, yet I know that in a bizarre twisted way it was meant with kindness and love.

Not that, that really makes it ok.

As much as I always hope for the best, I often prepare for the worst. A kind of safety net I guess. That's what was happening today.

I'm waiting to hear the outcome of a job interview from last week. It's still with the same company, just a different position and most definitely a promotion. I hate hearing myself say it, but if I'm brutally honest there is a part of me that thinks I deserve this. Actually brutal honesty is to admit that I think I should have just been offered the position.

So you see my quandary?

To not be given this will be devastating. I have worked hard and I know I am the right person for the job. To be told I'm not will be akin to being told I am useless. It's like I'm already mourning because my stupid head got sick of waiting for the outcome to be revealed. On the upside though at least I now feel like I might be able to cope with the direst of outcomes. Nothing could be worse than what I have put myself through today.

An admission

I've been sitting here for over half an hour with the intention of writing. I no sooner opened the laptop and my procrastination went into overdrive. There were emails to be read, government agencies to check in with and old posts that kept grabbing my attention.

Thankfully I became aware of my predicament and was able to swiftly take action.

It is not easy mind you.

My mind, as always, is racing all over the place.

In a bid to avoid going completely numb as the early stages of what feels like hyperthermia set my body has taken shivering to Olympic Games levels. 

Which if I were to be sitting outside in the middle of winter I could understand. 

But I am not. 

I am sitting outside as the first month of summer draws to an end. Since when did 13.3 degrees and dropping become an approved summer's night temperature?

So why am I sitting outside when it is ridiculously cold I hear you ask.

Well that is a very good question, sadly with not the greatest of answers. 

About this time last year I started smoking again.

Yeah, terrible I know. It was only meant to be one, and then only one packet and then only for one month and now only for one year. I have to do whatever it takes to stop. 

June - Emptying of my brain

Originally I was posting this over at Rhianna Writes, my lovely new little space on the internet. Only I misunderstood the brief and basically got it all wrong. Not that it really matters because now it just means I have a post for each blog which is a little bit winning. Especially considering how stumped my word flow has been of late.

Besides, Miss C, the brilliant mind behind the emptying of the brain, loves me and will get a massive giggle out of the error of my ways.

So without further ado let's empty this brain of mine.

Thinking - Far too much and yet nothing at all. My brain and mind are all over the place at the moment. I have far too many tabs open, in every sense.

One of those tabs is for this. A post I wrote way back in November 2010 about how I need to stop wasting time. The relevance for today is astounding. As is the fact that the linked within widget at the bottom of the post suggest a post titled Some things never seem to change from around the same era.

Feeling - Sad. Tired. Alone.

Yeah fun times here of late.

Watching - Today was a Mia and Me marathon on account of two sick little girls keeping me company. It is a children's show we discovered on Netflix recently and is all about a girl called Mia who thanks to a book given to her by her now dead parents can transcend into an elf world where she is an elf and can talk to unicorns.

Making me happy - Finally finding some words to write and not worry about whether they are worthy or not.

Listening - Right now some stupid TV ad. In terms of music lately I have been totally loving Shut Up and Dance. So much so I even purchased the album. Though really I should have just got the one song because that is all I have listened to.

Reading - Old blog posts. Like this one and this one. I have a terrible habit of getting sucked into suggested posts at the bottom of posts.

Eating - Whatever I can get my hands on.

Following - Kylie Purtell, A Study In Contradictions. She has some mad photography skills and a wicked sense of humour.

Outraged by - A sore back thanks to sleeping on a crappy bed with sick kids. I mean the bed is not crappy for them because they are kids and easily pleased but an old futon mattress is no friend of my back.

Waiting - for 8pm Thursday night when hopefully I will get word that there is a car available for me to buy. It is another Bidding Wars special but someone else actually pipped me at the post so I have to wait for them to not show up before I get the green light.

Loving - My electric blanket.

Below the surface

As I walked back to my car this morning after the morning drop I passed another mother. She was calling out goodbye to her eldest daughter while juggling a little baby and waiting for the middle child to finish eating what looked like a piece of toast. Though it could also have been a pikelet from the school canteen.

They were late and the mother looked rushed and frazzled. I gave her a smile and said hi as I walked past. Partly because I recognised her daughter from Teapot's class and partly because I knew only too well mornings like I imagined she had just been through.

You know the ones, the kids won't get out of bed and when they sit down to eat their breakfast it turns out the milk container is empty, not that it matter because the kids probably had no intention of actually eating breakfast anyway. From there you move on to getting dressed and they can't find their shoes, or their socks, or a clean pair of knickers or anything that they need. The lunch boxes didn't get unpacked from the day before and when you go to make the sandwich you discover that the bread is in fact mouldy and quite possibly the ham has a slight green tinge to it.

And if none of that is enough you are trying to operate on less than two hours sleep because the baby is teething and woke every half hour to tell you about it. Oh and it is cold, so cold you couldn't blame the kids for not wanting to get out of bed and beginning what seems like another awful day.

As I passed her though and in one quick glance assumed what her morning had been like based on my on previous experiences, it dawned on me just how different things are for me now.

It turns out all those well meaning "it will get better" comments that are thrown at mothers with young children do possibly hold some truth. I momentarily contemplated offering such words to this mum, but then I remembered how much I wanted to stab eyeballs with a fork when they were kindly directed towards me so I refrained.

You see when you in the throws of barely staying afloat and each moment of each day is a struggle just to get through, the last thing you want or need is some well meaning words from a woman who on the surface appears to have everything all under control.

Which when I stopped to think about it for a moment I would quite appear to be such a person.

Mount Foldme slowly taking
over the dining room table

For the first time in my fourteen years of mothering I am regularly sleeping all night without being woken up by a child. It is the most amazing feeling ever! Especially since rather than sit up blogging all night I am going to bed at a respectable time.

School starts so much later here that we actually manage to get to school on time rather than our regular ten minutes late prior to #ouradventureofalifetime. Again a rather awesome feeling. As is getting lunches made because suddenly the mornings feel to have so much more time and I am more rested than ever before.

It is all a weird feeling, this being on top of things. Even if it is only on the surface.

For as much as I might not be late to school or wake up feeling rested or have  baked yet more yoghurt dough products (which weren't as good as my last batch I might add) we can't actually eat at the dining room table because it is covered in clothes patiently waiting to be folded.

The tissue box in question

What's worse is that as I just went to snap that photo I discovered that the bird has totally destroyed the end of the box of tissues that I was supposed to take to school a fortnight ago. And to top it all off because I stopped to chat to a friend that popped over and write this post dinner preparation has not been done and there are a million things that need to be done after school pickup that will prevent me from doing it then.

Sigh.

On the upside though it is Tuesday and I have blogged.

Joining Jess and the IBOT gang

On pushing and knowing when you need not to.

The other day, or perhaps even last week, (my days feel to often seamlessly merge from one to another so keeping track of time is easier said than done, though I must admit it has never really been one of my strong points) I wrote about making it to the top of Stove Hill. It was a post that has been floating around in my noggin since the moment I conquered that pile of rocks and dirt. 

In my minds eye it was supposed to be about how good it feels to push oneself. How the feeling of achievement was worth the effort, no matter how hard that effort was. And I guess to some extent I did manage to convey that. Only as it too often the case with what I write, it somehow didn’t capture the true essence of what I wanted to say. Which is an absolutely ridiculous thing to say because if I have written something how can it not be what I want to say? Deep huh?

As I was coming down the hill the words I wanted to share were forming sentences in my head. My brain was buzzing with ideas. Of course by the time I actually made it home there were children to feed and a husband that needed picking up. A husband that I was so eager to pick up that when I left I forgot to unplug the car fridge and consequently drove around with an extension cord hanging out the back of the car. All of which I have earmarked as a story for another day mind you. My point for now was that once I got home life, as it so often does, distracted me and I never got to write those wondrous words.

Going out for that particular run that day reminded me of how much I loved running. With all our adventuring running had taken a bit of a back seat to. Though after conquering Stove Hill I was determined to push running back to the forefront. In fact I was determined to just push myself in as many ways as possible. 

One of the revelations I had on that day was that I am an easy street rider. Rarely do I push myself out of my comfort zone. A fact I was planning on changing after this run. Having just pushed myself beyond all comfort zones known to man (or at least this wo-man) and conquering what had once seemed unachievable I was essentially ready to take on the world and push myself at every possible opportunity.

And for maybe a week I did. 

And I felt awesome. 

My pushing mainly revolved around running but it was a start and that was all that mattered.

my running track of recent times

And then I stopped. 

And looking back now I can’t even recall the what or the why behind my non pushing. I guess life just got in the way (again).

A few weeks ago I decided to do the local Australia Day Fun Run. There was a 10km or 5km option. Suddenly remembering my desire to push myself I signed up for the 10km. Since there was only a little over two weeks till the big day I diligently started running as much as I could.

To say it was hard running again was an understatement. But it felt so awesome to be pushing myself I loved every minute of it. While where we are staying at the moment is incredibly beautiful and I love every minute of it, there is not exactly a good firm running path. 

There are lots of paddocks and sandy sides of the road but not a designated running path like I have become accustomed to in the past. Though I didn't really mind as it was just another way in which I was able to push past my comfort zones.

Only just under a week out from the run tragedy struck and when I went for my run my shins felt like they were on fire! 

As I tried to soldier on and push my way through the pain my mind went into overdrive trying to come to terms with what was happening. Was this a sign I should forget the fun run or was this the ultimate test in pushing past my comfort zones? 

You see until this point my entire running journey had been focused on not pushing myself too hard. I have always been fearful of injuries and in my mind the sure fire way to an injury was to push your body too hard. Something I had until this point successfully avoided. 

After much internal battling and feeling like one of the world's biggest failures I made the decision to not push myself any further. There was no point in sustaining an injury when I have (until now) successfully avoided doing so. 

Being an eternal optimist I secretly hoped that by resting I would have some kind of miraculous recovery and be able to run my race.

Whether that was the case or not you will have to wait and find out. For today is Tuesday and for the first time in what feels like forever I plan to join in with Essentially Jess for IBOT only Tuesday is nearly over so I must get a wriggle on. Do pop back in a few days for the rest of my tale though

On conquering Mount Everest. Or at least Stove Hill

When we were in Karratha, many moons ago, or at least so it seems, there was this hill. Though I liked to think of it as a mountain it probably was not really big enough to be considered as such. Given that Darwin is nothing but flat land though it was easy for me to think of it as a mountain despite it actually just being a hill. But already I am digressing.

Either way it was a rather large and some what intimidating pile of dirt and rocks.

This hill, according to the camera in my phone, was known as Stove Hill and was located right out the front of our caravan park. There was a dodgy looking dirt road that slowly wound it’s way up to the top but we never drove it. Mainly because when we pulled into Karratha we had issues with our clutch but also because right near the top it looked ridiculously steep and as awesome as Patty the Patrol might be we doubted his ability to conquer this particular pile of dirt and rocks.

Ok so this image doesn't really show just how steep Stove Hill is,
but it is an impressive view

On our second day in Karratha I decided to head out for a run. Having treated myself to new sneakers a month earlier it seemed only fitting that I get out and use them. As I lamented over where exactly my run would take me, Lovely made some flippant comment about doubting my ability to run to the top of Stove Hill. 

Initially I agreed with her because looking up at it from the ground it looked ridiculously steep. 

The more I thought about it however, the more I started to think that me getting to the top wasn’t so unachievable after all. It was most definitely worth a try at the very least. Especially since my said new sneakers were purchased for tail running as much as road racing.

So off I went.

The first half of the run was rather enjoyable and I felt all kinds of awesome. Striding out on the rocky trail my minds eye had me as a hardcore trail runner that could tackle anything in her path.

Slightly after the halfway mark though things took a turn for the worse. The steepness that I had seen from the ground suddenly became more than apparent. My running, which was quite possibly better described as a slow jog, slowed even further. Actually it slowed so much it essentially became a walk, but on I went.

By this stage my determination had well and truly set in. I would not be beaten by a pile of dirt and rocks. Regardless of how big or steep they may actually be.

As a mother I want my girls to be proud of me. I want to possess certain qualities that they will one day aspire to also possess. You know things like strength and determination. It was with this in mind that I kept on keeping on.

A little further on up the hill even walking became more of a challenge. As much as my flash new sneakers were meant for trail running they were not providing me with a whole lot of grip on the gravelly path that was meant to lead me to the top of the hill. In order to keep going I had to crouch down, for a while I was down so low I was pretty much crawling.

Come hell or high water though I was getting to the top of that bloody hill.

About ten metres from the top the path started to turn in a direction that no longer lead to my desired destination. Standing there, so close, and yet so far, to where I wanted to be I couldn’t just turn around and head for home. 

Despite my allotted time being nearly up and me huffing and puffing for breath like an allergy suffer in the middle of a field of flowers I refused to just walk away. If the path didn’t want to lead me to where I wanted to go then I would just forge ahead and create my own path.

Right there and then on top of that pile of rocks and dirt that half an hour ago had seemed so insurmountable, I suddenly felt more empowered than I ever had in my whole life.

Life is all about standing up to the challenges before and charging on through with all the gusto we can muster. Which was exactly what I intended to do to reach the top. I was not going home a quitter.

With a bounce in my step I started to make my way over the boulders and spinifex balls that were before me. My head filled with all kinds of crazy notions about me paving the way and leading the pack. Because of my efforts I would become an inspirational leader. Even if it were only to my offspring.

Me, feeling like I was standing
on top of the world

When at last I reached the summit one could have been mistaken for thinking I had conquered Mount Everest the grin on my face was so wide. I stood there at the top of the hill we thought could not be climbed revelling in all my glory.

I had done it.

The journey down was considerably easier than the way up on account of having the gravitational forces on my side. Well that and I was on a high at having actually made it to the top in one piece. Words can not adequately describe how good it felt to have accomplished something that I had set out to do. It is somewhat of a rarity in my life.

As I headed back home I was filled with excitement at being able to tell the girls what I had achieved. Words for a blog post on determination and hard work filled my head and I longed for a few moments at the keyboard to tap it all out. It felt like a new chapter in my life had begun, one where I could tackle anything I set my mind to.

On being a ram

The day five prompt for Clairey Hewitt's challenge is Your zodiac and your thoughts on star signs

I am an, in case you hadn't worked it out, an Aries. And just between you and me I am pretty pleased about it. Over the years I have read quite a bit about Aries and other than it being a ram, there is very little that I haven't liked about this particular sign. 

In fact I like Aries so much two of the girls are also rams. The other is a gemini which is also kind of cool as that is what my Dad was.

I do get that many people put no heed in stars signs and what have you.  To that I say each to their own. I don't go out of my way to read my stars any more, though for a while I did. If I do happen to stumble across them in my day or hear them on the radio as I am driving I can't help but think there is a message in there for me. Though I am often looking for all kinds of messages and signs as I go about my day.

Getting my run back on

Just over two years ago, on the 18th February 2012 to be exact, I began to change my life forever.

Inspired primarily by Trish and Kate I laced up my sneakers and decided to see if could suddenly become a runner.

I say suddenly because for my entire life before that point running was not something I thought I could do. Sure I played team sports as a teen that involved a lot of running but that was different. Short dashes from one end of a field to another chasing a ball hoping to get there before someone else did was not exactly real running. Especially when it left you completely and utterly out of breath and gasping for air.

Somehow though, with time, patience and perseverance I could slowly feel a change occurring within in my inner being. As I worked my way through my beloved interval training program I noticed that I was actually able to run for extended periods of time. In fact after about eight weeks I was actually able to maintain a steady much faster than walking pace for a solid thirty minutes.

Since then my running has fluctuated. There has been times when I would be out pounding the pavement every other day and other times where a month and sometimes more, would pass between runs. Though the longer I went without running the more I would long to do so and eventually I would find a way to get myself back out there.

Me getting myself back out there

Over this period I have managed to propel myself nearly 500 kilometres. In June last year I entered my first fun run. A twelve kilometre city to surf event. Being able to say I completed it feels me with all kinds of pride. As does being able to call myself a runner. Words I honestly never thought would leave my mouth.

On the television the other day I heard an advertisement advising that registrations for this year's City to Surf event were now open. Needless to say I am registered. Last year I had less than a month to prepare myself for the big day. This year I have about double that and I am making the most of it.

Sadly recent months have seen less running than I would have liked. Between working, studying, the weather, being a mum and all kinds of stupid excuses have made squeezing in time for a run easier said than done.

At least that was the case before I registered for the race.

Once I had registered, which involved me parting with forty dollars, I made a promise to myself not to make any excuses not to get out there. The running inspired birthday gifts I received the other day have helped no end in this as well.

The past few weeks have seen me go for a run more than what the last three months have. In so many ways it feels rather awesome to be back out there. However there is one slight problem.

Breathing.

I just can't seem to do it while I run anymore. I am back to gasping for air like a fish out of water. It feels awful and makes running rather difficult to say the least.

Thankfully though the internet is a wealth of information and I have been able to read a few articles on how runners should be breathing. This post was supposed to share some of my new found breathing while running tips but I think we can all agree it has gone of for long enough for now. Make sure you pop back tomorrow because I will share it all then.

For now go and check out some of the other bloggers who have joined in #IBOT

The difference of a year

This time last year I had just come to the end of the first real extended "me time" in nearly twelve whole years. I had selfishly abandoned my duties as a mother for an entire week. Leaving the children in the more than capable hands of their father. During my time away I had taken part in activities that were of benefit to no one other than myself.

I honestly couldn't even recall the last time I did such a thing. If in fact I ever had, well at least since becoming a mother.

So what was it that I was doing?

I had jumped on a plane and flown pretty much to the other end of the country to attend a conference. Specifically the Digital Parents Conference.

Looking back now I can't quite recall why I thought it was so important that I was there, but I did. And as such I pretty much moved heaven and earth to make it happen.

Perhaps it was because I expected it to be a life changing event?

One in which I saw my blog being discovered for all the wonders that I believed it to hold. Of course I am not saying it was not a life changing event, because even in the smallest of ways I think it was. It was not however the moment that launched me, or my blog into stardom.

Which to start with I must say I was a little disappointed about. Now however, not so much. Now with the passage of time and experience behind me I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that my blog reaching stardom is not the be all and end all I once thought it was.

The best thing about travelling so far and putting myself in a lot of rather uncomfortable situations, despite my stardom not being reached, was getting to met some rather love people. Particularly this one. As much as I love living in my tropical paradise there are not nearly enough wonderful people like her in it. Or maybe there are and I haven't found them, though I doubt it, because she really is a one of kind, kind of awesome chick.

While I would still love for my awesomeness to be discovered by the world at large, I realise that it probably won't. And in so many ways I am ok with that. Sure I am disappointed but I can accept it for what it is. I can also see how far I have come. Which, in case you were wondering is a bloody long way.

When I first started this whole blogging gig I never got any comments. Not one. Though I also didn't have any readers, so that quite possibly had something to do with it. It was all so incredibly disheartening. Being so certain I had words of wisdom to share with the world at large yet my voice remained unheard. Now at least I know that for the most part someone somewhere reads whatever I spew forth here. Which is incredibly nice.

However I also know that whether anyone reads or not I just need to write. Whether the words are full of wisdom or not, I need to free them from inside me.

I don't need to travel to the other end of the country to be surrounded by people I am too intimidated to talk to. I don't need to worry about what every one else is doing or how they are doing it. I don't need to know what is seen as the way to do things.

The best way to do it, is my way. Always has been, I just possibly never realised it till now.

Writers Reveal - People of the Past, Characters of the Future

This month's Writer's Reveal prompt comes from JC, who writes over at The Wolfe's Den. Now just between you and me JC is a pretty awesome writer. In fact I think she may even be like a real writer and have actually been published in places other than her own website. Unlike some of us

Anyway as you can imagine with all the real writer stuff behind her she is super organised and gave out the prompt for March weeks and weeks ago.  Which by the way is a rather impressive prompt as well.

People of the Past, Characters of the Future

When I first saw the prompt my heart may have stopped beating a little and my chest tightened quite a lot. I had no idea on how I could possibly tackle this. So naturally I left it all to the last minute. Well actually only nearly the last minute because somewhere on Monday (the day before reveal day) I suddenly had a flash of brilliance.

For as long as I have wanted to be a writer (which is about since the age of fourteen) I have been certain that my book would essentially be a recount of various aspects of my life. Not necessarily because I have had an amazing life but more so because I have have a way with words and I am sure I can make it somewhat entertaining. Maybe.

Anyway it finally hit me that to tackle JC's prompt I could just write about someone from my past. (duh)

While the possibilities were almost endless it was actually a bit of a no brainer on who and what to choose. You see fifteen years ago, to the day, my life suddenly took an unexpected swing. So unexpected that I didn't even know it was swinging until well after it had happened. My life changed forever and while it didn't directly send me to where I am now it was the starting point.

Of course little I do ever goes to plan, which I am fairly ok with but it means my initial thought of what to share never quite made it out of my head. Not that, that is a bad thing because it gave me a chance to set the scene and develop it all a little. It also means that I have a current stream to work on.

To find out how it all starts though you are going to need to pop on over to my Fiction Blog 

Also make sure you pop on over and read how everyone else decided to tackle this great prompt

Melissa Writes

The Wolfe's Den

Imagine Create Write

Ashley

You learn something new everyday

Have a laugh on me

Also joining in with Essentially Jess for #IBOT

Tom Ronald The Monkey Dog

 It's a funny thing being a blogger. Especially one such as myself that for the most part shares whatever random thoughts just happens to be floating between my ears at any particular point in time.

Over time I have realised this place that I have created here at A Parenting Life is not the hub of parenting advice and knowledge that I originally envisaged it to be. Instead it is a candid reflection on my life. Which I am by no means complaining about. In fact quite the opposite. I love the fact that I have this collection of my thoughts to look back and reminisce on.

When something big happens in my life I immediately want to share it here. Generally I don't give it a second thought and share away. Taking comfort that the event is safely recorded. Recently, well on Friday actually, something big happened in our lives. As yet I haven't shared it because sadly it is a heartbreakingly sad thing and quite frankly I am a bit over myself whinging and carrying on about all my worries.

Only it just doesn't feel right not sharing it.

In fact it feels somewhat disrespectful to just omit and exclude our pain and sadness.

So sorry if you were hoping for rainbows and happiness today because you ain't going to find it here.

Tom Ronald The Monkey Dog
(called the Monkey Dog on account of the noise he would make when happy)
2004-2014

On Friday Mr Awesome and I had to make the heartbreaking decision to put our beloved pooch down. Feeling like the worst person in the world doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about it.
Despite knowing that in so many ways it was for the best and that he is no longer suffering it still sucks big hairy balls. Watching my poor babies grieve makes it all even worse.

At the beginning of the week I had thought that something wasn't quite right with the old fella but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. In hindsight I think that maybe he had been looking at me with pleading eyes for even longer but caught up in my own woes I was ignorant to it all. By Thursday there was no doubt that something wasn't right so I insisted that Mr Awesome take him to the vets.

Which he did. He returned with a range of different pills and a follow up appointment on Tuesday. Initially we had thought he was suffering from a severe bout of blocked bowels. The vet however pointed out that it was probably more likely to be related to his prostate. Since he was the one that had been to doggie medical school we went with his idea.

By the time Friday morning came along there was no doubt that the problem was with his prostate/penis area. The pool of blood dripping from him was a bit of a giveaway really. Thankfully (for me) Mr A had popped home for a car change so I insisted that he drop everything and go back to the vets. Which he readily agreed to and did just that.

You know how sometimes your brain just goes and thinks silly things?

Well this was one of those times for me. As Mr A was gently coercing Tom out the front door and into the car I suddenly had the urge to tell the girls to give Tom a cuddle and say goodbye to him. They were home from school due to a teachers strike. Not wanting to be over dramatic or worry them I decided not to make too much of a big deal about it and they said goodbye in the same manner as if they was just going for a walk

As much as we love our dog we are sadly not made of money. A point which Mr A let the vet know when he arrived. We have heard some horror stories of vet bills and couldn't face a thousands of dollars bill. The vet, who was different to the one they saw the day before, said he totally understood and would be able to investigate the situation without X-rays and only a minor procedure.

Within a few hours the vet had called with the news.

He still wasn't sure exactly what was wrong just that it wasn't good. Far from it in fact. He could operate and investigate further however he still couldn't guarantee he would be able to fix whatever was wrong.

Given his age of ten years and the lack of hope from the vet it honestly felt like there was little option. It seemed like the most humane thing to do.

Thankfully there was enough time for me to take the girls in to say their goodbyes. Though the vet and my mother did question whether that really was the best thing to do. I had no doubt that it was. While the girls were upset as they sat with him and stroked him I think they would have been even more upset to have not had that opportunity. I know I was glad to be able to see him one more time.

He was so much more than just a pet or just a dog. He was our friend and companion, a protector and guard and he is so sorely missed. The house feels empty without him. So so empty. I almost don't want to open the back door anymore because it is such a horrid reminder that he is gone.

Even now as I sit here writing at some ridiculous hour in the morning, I am only too aware that he is not sitting by my side as he once did. Keeping me company while I tap away at my keyboard.

For now though I must go sleep. Which just between you and me is easier said than done. You see there is a part of me that can't help but feel I asked for this to happen in some crazy way.

A few months ago a friend asked me what we would be doing with Tom when we go away. I flippantly replied with a comment about maybe he would die before then. In much the same way I made an offhand comment about Mr A's grandma passing and leaving us a heap of cash when asked how we would fund our trip.

How both those statements haunt me now. Yes that's right Grandma passed away as well.

One of those I can't sigh enough moments.

But enough of that. Let's end on a slightly happier note. A few years ago I wrote about It's a dog's life

On climbing Mount Everest

Some days coming up with something to write about feels much like what I imagine climbing Mount Everest would feel like. Arduously hard work that requires searching the inner depths of your soul and digging internally deeper than you ever imagined possible.

Image from here
From someone who really has
climbed Everest

Of course the joy and elation at reaching the top of the summit is much like the emotions experienced when that something you have written is well received once read. Especially if it is so well received that readers are motivated to comment and share.

Other days when sitting in front of the big magic screen that is my Mac, words seem to spew forth at great knots. Appearing to cover the blank screen with the ease of a natural flow. Little thought feels needed and there is no doubt that my career as an esteemed writer is all but set in stone.

Mind you these are generally the same days that it appears as if everyone has forgotten my web address and my words of wisdom feel like they slip by completely unnoticed. Oh the tragedy I know.

Lately I have been experiencing a combination of climbing Everest yet without the elation. Which has made the whole sitting down to write thing a whole lot harder than I would like it to be. Combined with the whole working and raising a family thing writing, blogging and any time in front of the computer has been harder than I possibly thought it would be.

There is not enough room for all the sighing I want to get out.

In twenty minutes I will once again be setting off for a doctor's appointment. It is my third or maybe fourth in not that many weeks. Which for someone who doesn't really do doctors, you can only imagine the angst that all these appointments are causing me. Especially since thrown in amongst it all there is the dentist to deal with as well.

Not to mention the fact that one doctor claims it is all rather important I get the whole clot in my arm worked out sooner rather than later. Yet I can't seem to get anyone else to actually get me an appointment with a specialist who may be able to shed some more light on what can be done.

See I told you there was not enough room for all the sighing I want need to get out.

And like I am not whinging and whining enough, but did I mention I recently had to say goodbye to a dear friend?

Thankfully not in the she is gone forever never to be seen again type of goodbye, just the she has moved to the other end of the country type of goodbye. Which is all kinds of sucky let me tell you.

In looking for a bright side though, because there is always a bright side, when we go on our trip of a life time, when we get to her neck of the woods we will have a place to stay. So yay for that!

Continuing on with the cheery bright side, I now also have something to join in IBOT with AND in the time it has taken for me to get this out (which may be all day but whatever) a specialist has finally gotten back to me and agreed that I could skip most of the waiting list and get seen next week! Oh yay, oh yay, oh yay!

What's been going on with you?

Goodbye, so long, farewell

Darwin has long been touted as one of the most transient capital cities. As a long tern local it is something that I can personally attest to as well. For many years as I was growing up it felt as if all I was ever doing was saying goodbye to people. Families would get transferred here for a few years and then when their time was done, they would be sent to somewhere else. It was just the way things worked.

Of course we never got sent anywhere else because my parents had willingly chosen to be here. There had been no company transfer to prove your worth or anything like that. With the booming building industry of a city that desperately needed rebuilding and then continued to grow and grow Dad was never without work so there was never even a reason to consider leaving.

And honestly why would you want to leave a lifestyle like this?

On top of that he and my mum both loved the tropical relaxed laid back way of life. There was no way there were ever giving it up to return to the hustle and bustle of a big city. Which I can totally understand and relate to. The mere thought of a hustling bustling big city makes me want to go and hide in a corner.

As I got older I found myself wanting to join the ranks of leavers. If everyone else thought there was somewhere better to be then maybe there was something to it. So I studied hard, certain that acceptance to an interstate university was my only ticket out of town.

However before I got there, I had the chance to do some travelling of my own. Not a lot, but enough to let me know that I was already lucky enough to be living in one of the most wonderful places on earth.

Over time I said goodbye to every single one of my friends from school and my first failed attempt at university. Over the same time I slowly began to be more selective in who I would let into my inner circles of friendships. I didn't see the point in investing too much time or energy into someone who was only going to leave me.

Sadly this meant I found myself without any real friends. Which I acted like I was ok with. Who needs lots of people in their life anyway? By this time I had Mr Awesome so in so many ways I thought I had all that I needed.

Of course I didn't though.

By the time Lovely was five and Zany was on the scene I began to realise the importance of having friends. Not just for myself but for the girls as well. Slowly I began looking for some and opening myself up. It was a long and slow process. Not aided by my reluctance either.

In 2011 I decided to throw caution to the wind and actively sought to find new life long friends. It was a wonderful experience and I while I may not have discovered the new bestie I was hoping for I no longer felt alone or even lonely. It also gave me the confidence to keep slowly letting people in.

Somewhere along the line I stopped looking so hard and just let things be. As great as 2011 had been for finding and making new friends, there weren't too many actual keepers in there. I wasn't going to spend 2012 in the same manner so I backed off on the friendship hunt.

Only would you believe it? When I wasn't even looking I somehow managed to stumble across someone who I truly connected with in so many ways. In fact from our first catch up I walked away feeling like I had just spent hours with a best friend. If of course I was the type to have best friends.

Anyway I am sure by now you have worked out what comes next.

Yep she is now on the road out of town and quickly too.

Despite my total and utter devastation I don't really hold it against her. I know that it is in her family's best interest. I know that where she is off to she will be faced with great opportunity and a wonderful life but right now it is so hard to see past my own sadness.

Which I know is so, so so incredibly selfish. Especially since in six months time I would have been the one leaving her. But I just can't help it. The mere thought of saying goodbye to her sends me to tears. Ridiculous over emotional tears that I just can't stop.

And yes I have heard of Skype and all those modern fang dangled ways of staying in contact but they are not the same. Not when it is the only way to stay in contact with just about every single person that you love and care for.

joining Jess and the gang for IBOT

also part of the Digital Parents Blog Carnival hosted by Mrs D plus 3

Thankful For The Christmas Memories #quiltonmostloved

Despite Christmas being pretty much done and dusted for the next eleven months I wanted to share with you some of my most loved Christmas memories. For they are most certainly something I am super thankful for.

The fact that I heard Quilton had a bit of a  #quiltonmostloved competition running regarding the topic may also have swayed me. Though with the closing date being tomorrow my chances are probably somewhere between none and not much. Nonetheless though, I am still thankful to have heard of it. 

Choosing my most favourite Christmas memory however is not quite as easy as I first thought though. Which I take as being something to be incredibly thankful for - too many wonderful memories to choose from.

My first real Christmas memory is from the year 1984. I was all of six at the time.

In early November of that year my parents had bundled me up on a plane with some friends and sent me off to have the adventure of a life time with my English relatives. An adventure that would see me gone for around three months and experience the joys of a white Christmas. Which coming from a rather tropical little hick town was beyond exciting.

I loved how over there your stocking was left on your bed, rather than under the tree. The thought of Santa actually being in the same room as I was almost too much to bare. Of course I had grand delusions of this making it easier to catch him in the act.

It didn't.

Some nearly thirty years later though, I do still have a rather amazing doll that has a striking resemblance to a six month old baby and some rather amazing memories of a family that I would never have got to spend time with otherwise. I also look fondly upon tangerines. As Santa kindly left me one in my stocking. I had never heard of one before.

From there my next most loved memories around the festive season begin the year I was 12 and pretty much continue for the next three years. During this wonderfully blissful time our Christmas Days were spent with Mr Awesome and his family. (Yes in case you didn't already know the Mr and I are what some might call childhood sweethearts of sorts)

Every moment that we spent together was pure bliss in my little prepubescent mind but the ones spent together over the festive season were even more special. Even all the way back then, it felt as if that was the way it should be for the rest of forever. Our families together as one celebrating one of the most memorable milestones of the year.

There were backyard rugby games, where I may have made myself an easy tackle target when I had the ball and Mr A came hurtling towards me. Where the tackles may have turned into slightly extended embraces as two lovestruck teenagers overwhelmed with emotion tried to battle their way through the hormones of being young and in love but not knowing how to deal with it in any shape or form.

Things didn't quite pan out for us at that time though and the next few years saw us go separate ways. And while the Christmas' in that time weren't necessarily terrible there are not a lot of outstanding memories from then either.

Oh but the first one together, in our own house, with our own children. Surrounded by family. Our families. The love, the laughter and the joy felt that day. There are no words to describe it. My dream come true.

There was nothing particularly special, other than the fact we were together. As one. As I had always    hoped for. That's what my #quiltonmostloved memories are of. Families coming together and dreams coming true. Things that I will always be eternally thankful for.

What about you? What are you thankful for this week?

The First Date

This time eleven years ago I was a twenty four year old single mum waking up from what was quite possibly the most wonderful night of my life. Some eighteen hours early I had nervously been awaiting what was really one of my first ever real dates. 

Image credit: Jasmaine Mathews

A blind date it was not, yet in many ways that was exactly how it felt. It had almost been like a lifetime since our paths had last crossed. We were as good as strangers in so many ways.

My mother had agreed to care for Lovely, who at the time was not yet two. Since Mum lived with us at the time it was no real inconvenience for her have her for the night. I greatly appreciated it though and it was by no means something I did often or took real advantage of.

Even though I was a single mum I had not really been so for very long. Lovely's father and I had gone our separate ways the previous April. A week after Lovely's first birthday. I had followed him out in a last ditch effort to save our very flawed relationship. I received the message loud and clear there was nothing to salvage.

The following eight months were incredibly tumultuous for me as I tried to find my way in life once more.

May saw me with a 13 month old, a broken arm and homeless. Returning to Mum and Dad's house really was the most sensible option and reluctantly I took it.

By July I was nearly back on my own feet and settled into my very own rented accommodation. An old weather beaten fibro built house that had some how managed to remain standing when most of the city had been destroyed by a cyclone some twenty five years ago. 

It had three bedrooms, a stainless steel kitchen and a massive yard. All that I needed and a whole lot more. Apparently it was best for me not to be alone. Not that I was alone because I had Lovely but it was a handy excuse for those that wanted to be alone. 

My parents were well and truly entrapped in a can't live with or without them scenario. They would take turns in coming to stay for extended periods of time. Having one with me gave them the space they both needed at the time. 

Dad had gone on another road trip, which mum had to be at her house. For a few moments I was alone. 

Then a friend need a place to stay. In many ways I felt responsible for his lack of accommodation. I had the room so gave returned the generosity he had shown to me when I needed it most a few months prior.

A few days turned to weeks, which went to a month, and then longer. Somewhere along the way, we stopped being just friends. We were both so lonely at the time it seemed to make perfect sense.

Only it wasn't really.

Deep down I knew my heart wasn't in it. 

I had spent the last few years doing things that my heart wasn't in. I had vowed never to do that again. Never. 

By this time my dad had returned and mum was looking for some space of her own again. The what would have been empty room was again empty no more as  mum quickly entered the vacated space left by my friend come lover who would eventually become but a stranger.

Life seemed to be rolling along nicely. 

With the new year upon me I was filled with hope and possibility. I had a casual job and was studying. I had found a wonderful day care option for Lovely. Life felt like it was coming together. Sure there was something missing but for the most part all the pieces were slowly falling into places.

Then the dreams started.

So real and vivid. Even in waking hours they would begin to invade my every thought.

A face. A person. Someone from what felt like a lifetime ago.

When I won a double pass to a local nightclub exclusive party there was no doubt on who I would offer the other pass to. Provided of course I could actually make the call. My hand would waver over the phone for so long before I would actually have the courage to pick it up.

Even thinking about it all these years on my stomach still starts to tighten and swirl all at the one time. My heart had never beat faster and it amazes me how I actually managed to get the words out.

"Hello it's Rhianna, is Mr Awesome there?" I somehow stammer

"No of course he is not here" his mother curtly replies

I am suddenly thrown back to the early nineties where I was an awkward and nervous teenager when it came to boys. My heart sinks and I am engulfed with disappointment. What ever was I thinking?

"He doesn't finish work till five, should be home by five thirty" a slightly softer voices continues.

Of course work. Why didn't I think of that? 

Feeling more than slightly stupid I leave my number and begin counting down the hours till I can at least begin expecting a return call.

to be continued...

joining in with Kerri

On needing school supplies and more time

At the half way mark of the last week of the school holidays I find myself filled with disappointment and despair at the prospect of what next week will actually bring. To say I am not looking forward to the return of school is somewhat of an understatement.

Image found here

These holidays were supposed to the ones that I implemented life long positive changes that would see us in good stead for the days to come. All the organisation and routine that we so desperately need yet just as desperately eludes us was supposed to take form during this break.

Exercise, reading, writing, chores, all that type of thing was supposed to be carefully allotted into a time slot ensuring that it would be done at the appropriate time. None of which happened. Or even came close to it for that matter.

It feels like I am hitting my head against a brick. Only worse.

Generally I am all fine with the "I am less than perfect, let me embrace my faults as I work towards a better me"  attitude but right now my faults and areas for improvement feel so overwhelming I am not sure there really is any other type of me, let alone a better one.

Deep down, deep, deep, deep down mind you, I know that there is. I know that if I take enough deep breaths and just get on with it, eventually it will be done. Or at least closer to being done.

In my head I know all the right words and actions. I know all that needs to be done and even all that should be done. Yes there is a slight difference. None of that makes it any easier to actually start doing it though.

Being torn between wanting to blurt stuff out here and knowing it doesn't really belong on the Internet doesn't help much either. Using all my energy to fight the urge to download all my crazy thoughts to here does seem like a waste of such a precious resource but my inner voice tells me it is for the best. Instead I will struggle with finding the balance between what I want to say and what is ok to say. Vaugeblogging at it's best.

This time next week normality will be in full swing. Though how making lunches before breakfast is even finished equates to a sense of normal is a little beyond me but that is the joy of having to take a packed lunch to school.

Unlike most mothers preparing for the back to school rush I am yet to organise school shoes, bags, uniforms and lunch boxes. It is part of my head in the sand disorder. I was hoping by not getting organised time would somehow stop and next week would not befall upon us for at least another month. 

Apparently though that is not quite how things work.

That was how long ago?

Some times when you least expect it, reality comes and long and well and and truly bites you on the behind. For me one of those times came along today.

As you may recall me mentioning before, come July we are off on the adventure of a life time. We are packing all we can into the back of our car and hitting the open road. Mind you such an experience is not exactly free of charge and money is in short supply.

All of which means it wouldn't hurt for me to see if I could get myself a job of some description. Having been gainfully removed from the official workforce for nearly nine years I am slightly nervous about it all.

The other day while down and the local shopping centre I noticed the video store had a position available poster in the front window. I couldn't help but feel that was for me. Sure it said it required some mornings but my dear mother doesn't have much on these days I am sure she wouldn't mind having Teapot tag along with her while I went off and earned some cold hard cash.

Today I finally managed to get the gumption up to actually sit down and have a look at creating some sort of a current resume. In amongst the last lot of decluttering that I undertook I happened to come across my last resume. It didn't have a date on it however the current address was of one I haven't lived at for nearly nine years.

Despite it's age though, that nearly decade old resume was in fact the one that I used to get my very last job with. The position was as a marketing manager with a real estate company, in case you were wondering. I quite liked it though settling into the whole nine to five routine was rather tricky for me.

Prior to the real estate gig I had run a small motel that had involved living on site for a while. The hours were long and varied and anything but nine to five. Being confined to an office for all those hours was also an adjustment I struggled with. Till then all my jobs so me constantly interact with lots of different people. But I've digressed.

Sitting here typing out a new and reviewed resume in the hope that I may be able to score a job somewhere doing something (I really am not too fussed on either just let me choose the hours that suit me best) I the horrible realisation of being incredibly old.

Ok perhaps incredibly old is rather drastic for the tender age of thirty five-nearly-six but wait till you hear this.

I had to write dates from last century.

My first job, which I wanted to include because it demonstrates I am a long term employee, was from 1992-1998. In a surf shop that no longer exists. The fact I have only had five other jobs was the other reason I thought I could get away with stepping that far back in time. Something which I am now reconsidering.

Done any thing to make you feel old lately?

Has reality slapped you one across the face?

How many jobs should I list on a resume?

In fact what should I put on my resume?

And why isn't there someone out there ready to just give me a job doing what I want?

So many questions for today's IBOT post