The start of something

This is another of those sitting in my inbox since forever posts that I am not sure what to do with other than just publish.

The title is so fitting to so many aspects of my life though. I am always aware that I am at the 'start of something'. Sometimes I don't think I even know what that something is, I just know that it is something.

Anyway I am starting to ramble and since I have already done that once today I will refrain from any more. It is Tuesday and I have blogged and while I haven't for a while I am a bit excited to be joining in with #IBOT

It was hot and sticky.  The air thick and heavy.  The weather man said it might rain but what would he know?  He was only guessing anyway.  They all were. No one could predict the weather on a regular basis nor any other of life's daily events.  Apparently that was half the fun.  The unpredictability and uncertainty of it all, that was what was meant to keep people going.  Sure spontaneity and surprise had it's advantages but sometimes there was nothing better than a guarantee in life.  Of course these are few and far between but that is what makes them so great.  They are worth the wait.

If you waited long enough even the weather can be guaranteed.

In early October it is only guaranteed to rain if your car windows are down or your washing out.  This becomes void though if it is done on purpose.  Mind you the way the air hung so still there was no chance of rain tonight even if she had forgotten to get the washing in. Assuming of course she had actually managed to put a load on and hung it out.

It had been another long day.  Yet nothing was really accomplished.  She seemed to wade through life without ever touching the bottom or even the sides for that matter.  She certainly wasn't complaining though.  After all no one but herself was the master of her destiny.  Not even the fairies.  Sure they could lead her in the right direction but the choices to make were all her own.

Time and time again she had wished for them to just be able to tell her which choice to make but they never did. Nor would they ever.  It was always the same old answer.  "You must choose yourself, follow your heart"

How was she ever supposed to follow her heart when quite often her head was in disagreeance?

She got up.  Peeling her back from the plastic chair as she did.  How was it possible to sweat so much in such a short period of time?  She had only been sitting outside a few moments and already the sweat was pouring out of her like a leaky tap.

It had been nearly 170 days since it last rained.  Her body longed to feel the cool wet drops rain again.  Surely it wouldn't be to far away now.  It was a little late this year but not yet long overdue. They had gone much longer without rain before.  The year of '73 saw 203 days without rain.  When it did finally come though it didn't stop for a week.

The me day that wasn't

Today was supposed to be a me day.

A most perfect place for a bit of me time.

I had thought that I was on top of everything. You know, all the housework was out the way, washing under control and the majority of the dishes done and dusted. Leaving little old me free to do as I please. Free to write, or crochet, or sleep or whatever my little heart desires.

Sure there were more useful things I could have done, like clean out the pantry, the floors always need sweeping and all the rest of it. But all such things didn't have to be done if I didn't want to do them. I had thought that there was enough general order and things done, that I could let a few things slide and take the time to focus on me.

Only somewhere along the line I have somehow found endless crappy things to do. Turns out the only the way the washing was under control was if that meant spread all over the laundry floor with what appears to be half the local beach or school sand pit. Hard to tell the difference really, all I know is that there is sand everywhere and there shouldn't be.

From there I got asked to work later which made me start prepping dinner super early which meant I was alerted to the fact that the kitchen is almost in a state of disrepair. Apparently the aftermath of breakfast was more severe than I realised.

And then...

As if this wasn't all enough, I remember the play date that Teapot has lined up with a new friend who's mother I don't really know and will therefore invite in for coffee which means really I should make a bit of an effort to hide my lack of housekeeping enthusiasm.

Oh the sighing.

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.

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.

Sigh.

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?

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. 2009, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2013, 2014. 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.

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.

Fifteen minutes

There are approximately seventeen and a half minutes till I need to depart for school pickup. Possibly twenty three if I committed to walking super fast and maybe even twenty five if I ran or rode the bike.

So obviously it is the perfect time to sit and try writing a blog post.

I think about blogging and writing all the time. Finding the time to do it is another story altogether.

I think back to my time in Darwin, before #ouradventureofalifetime and wonder how I ever managed to make as much time as I did to be online. Deep down I know the answer mind you.

It happened because there were so many other things I let slide. Namely relating to housework and tending to the every need and whim of children.

Now that we are renting, which means living in somebody else's house, I feel somewhat obliged to be a more dedicated housekeeper. After all, I am now responsible for their most valuable asset. Talk about pressure. And stupidity. Surely I should have been able to apply the same logic when I was responsible for maintaining my own most valuable asset?

Sigh.

Thankfully winter has passed and the onset of spring has well and truly put a spring in my step. It feels somewhat similar to the dry season back home. The air is filled with a freshness that words can't describe. Gentle breezes make sure that the clouds continually float on by leaving the sky a sparkling shade of light blue. I feel energised and ready to take on all that may be thrown my way.

I snapped this little guy yesterday while I was out in the garden bird watching and enjoying some sunshine

And that is how much I can write in fifteen minutes

Just putting it out there

It is a most beautiful early spring morning. Early in spring rather than actually early in the morning mind you. The kids have all been deposited at school, well The Little Two have been, The Teenager is still at home in bed. She has been unwell for a week or so now though she assures me she is going to school today just after the first period. Normally I would be fighting with her and pushing her to go but today I just don't have it in me. Not when her body desperately needs to rest.

Instead I have brought myself here. 

There is coffee and a gentle breeze. Though the gentle breeze I could almost do without. While the sun may be shining there is little warmth in her golden rays. 

My ears are filled with the sounds of birds calling img and singing out to one another. Willy wagtails and ducks are the only ones I can name though. The others flitter about in the tops of the tress making me unable to identify them. I manage to catch a quick glimpse of a very small olive green bird. The colours similar to one we saw at Warren National Park earlier in the year. Mr Writes said they were called a silver eye on account of their brilliant silver eyes. I can't remember now whether I took his word or checked in the book. 

It feels funny calling home Mr Writes now. He hasn't stopped being awesome just with the new blog and all I thought perhaps new names for us all was in order as well. 

Sigh. 

Not that it really matters I guess. 

I've had to leave my beautiful spot and start heading back towards home. My day is awaiting. 

When I first sat down and started writing this I thought it was going to be about how as much as I love being here I still don't really feel like I fit in. It's hard to find someone like me.

I mean I don't want them to be just like me because I love being unique, but just someone similar. You know, they like to write, have kids the same age, don't have to work every day...surely that's not too much to ask is it? If they liked to go for a run every now and then that would be even better. 

Just putting it out there

Joining in with Alicia for Open Slather 

No more excuses

For the first time in I don't know how long, Tuesday saw me opening up the laptop with the intention of actually writing something. Somehow the day had found me with a few spare minutes and my thoughts seemed gathered enough to actually share in a coherent fashion.

In one of the many blogging groups I am part of someone had shared a post saying they had written a post about all that happened to them in August and they had included a linky if anyone wanted to join in. Of course now I have no idea at all who that may have been.

Since it was Tuesday and I was blogging it meant that I could have also linked it with EssentiallyJess for IBOT and had a double whammy for getting people to drop by. Especially since it was a text conversation with Jess the day before that had inspired me to try and spit some words out. She's good like that.

Anyway, there I was, laptop open, words poised to start flowing and suddenly I found myself trying to design a new header.

Yep. I know. It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but there I was fluffing around with some stupid new drawing program that I had no idea on how to use and getting frustrated at it not doing what I wanted.

It is fair to say I can be more than easily distracted.

Much like right now.

You see when I thought about starting this post it was going to be a somewhat deep and meaningful. I was going say something about the tragedy of Aylan and the horror of what is happening in Syria. Only I can't.

My head literally starts to hurt the moment I start to think of it all. My stomach churns, who is to say that the blessed life I live here couldn't just one day disappear because of the decisions made be the powers that be. Though this time I refer not to the celestial beings I normally call the powers that be but instead the politicians who are meant to be in charge of the nation's best interests.

While fighting with what words to use and where to start my washing machine kindly keeps beeping at me. Reminding me that the towels still need to be hung out. They would probably be dry by now if I had of gotten up at the first beep.

I so wanted to say something of worth though.

I wanted to stop making excuses for not making the time to write.

I guess at least some writing has occurred now so perhaps I should just be happy with that. There is still a floor to swept and mopped and of course the towels to be hung out. Oh and the dishes. There is always the dishes.

There are probably many displaced women who at the moment would give anything to have all of that as their biggest concerns. Talk about perspective. She says as she flits over to a new window and starts filling out a form to join an exercise group...