Recently, I have been asked why I don't write here anymore. The truth is I don't really write anywhere, anymore. Why? Well there are probably lots of reasons, but guess what? I just wrote that, so I guess I am writing. So I guess there's no reason to overthink things.
I'm almost six months into being 42 - being, of course, the answer to the question of life, the universe and everything (according to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). Yet, in a lot of ways I feel like I have the answers to almost none of the questions. In fact I have less answers at 42 than I did at 41. Maybe that's the wisdom that comes from age, knowing that you, in fact, know nothing.
Being the fourth day of a new year always brings a look at what you've done over the past year and hoping of what you want to achieve in the coming year. I have a suspicion that this is going to be a challenging year. I don't know why, it's just a feeling. I'm always an optimist, so I believe that challenge will bring its rewards as well. It's just that life will always throw challenges, it's our job to navigate through them as unscathed as possible.
One thing I have noticed recently that has become a seemingly constant in my world (or at least my social media world) is being bombarded with people telling me I need to have/do/be this that or the other to be happy/successful/worthwhile. Mostly, I tick none of the boxes they're suggesting I should tick. Sometimes I think that maybe I should stop being lazy and be like these people living 'their best lives', but before I can drain the dregs of my cold coffee, there's another post announcing the crippling guilt/anxiety/exhaustion these same people are feeling.
We seem to need to be ON all the time and I know there are people out there who thrive on this. I am definitely not one of them. Being busy doesn't make me happy. Especially being busy with simply being busy. I think the biggest lesson I've learnt in recent months is that for me to feel good I need to fill my cup with things that makes my heart sing.
I don't know what these things are for you, but for me it's:
Reading a good book
Getting lost in the pages of book is a wonderful thing. So many people tell me they aren't readers, or they read things they feel they 'should' read. Personally, I think all self-help, life manuals and the like should be left on the shelves. You can learn far more about yourself and your life in the pages of a cracking yarn. Reading to your child is just as important and lovely. Picking up the tale from where you left off the night before is fun for all of us. For me, it's far better for my kids' minds than any homework or tutoring could ever be. If you don't do any other reading than reading to your kids, well then that's OK.
Eating a good meal
Food is incredibly important to me. I've recently realised food is a big way in how I express my love and gratitude. Cooking a good meal for my family most nights (definitely not every night), having friends over for a meal is how I show that I care. I often hear people saying that going to the trouble of cooking is something they really don't enjoy, but for me food not only one of our base needs, it's also one of life's great pleasures. So feeding myself, my friends and family with something delicious that is going to sustain them and create a memory is a privilege. It doesn't have to be fancy, just real food - good for you and delicious.
Watching a good film
I have always loved movies. So much so that I spent many years wanting to make movies. I even studied film at uni. Somewhere along the way I stopped watching movies (or at least I was only watching kids' movies), recently I've made the time to watch movies and go to the cinema again. Sure, I could watch hours of The Hills but it doesn't 'feed my soul'. It's like eating Pringles for dinner, tasty at the time but not satisfying in the long term. I recently re-watched Brokeback Mountain and was reminded how beautifully directed and shot it was. Watching movies again has made me extremely happy. Funny how something so seemingly insignificant can mean so much.
Singing loudly
Singing while your work, shower, drive, clean, whatever. Sing loudly. Not mindless humming, singing. It makes me feel alive.
Radio/Podcast
Listening to radio/podcasts, good interviews with people telling their stories makes me happy. There's an intimacy you get with radio that you don't get with any other medium. Listening to something while I drive or walk the dog is the best. My favourites at the moment are Alec Baldwin's Here's the Thing (he talks about and to old Hollywood people a lot which I love) and ABC's Conversations.
Exercising
I feel weird writing this because I really don't like exercising. The thought of it, the actual doing it, I don't enjoy. Even talking about it is boring. The feeling immediately after and the feeling after doing regular consecutive really is good for me physically and mentally. No doubt.
These are the small weird human things that make me feel life is OK. Sure they're not huge life goals or achievements, but little things that put joy into my day. What are the things that put a glow of good feeling in your chest?
I've been asked recently why I stopped writing, and to be honest, I'm not really sure. To dip my toe in once again, here is something I wrote almost two years ago and never published. I'm not quite sure why I didn't.
I remember when Lil-lil was a week old, I held her in my arms as she screamed her little lungs out, her face beet red with anger. I clearly remember thinking "My god, I've broken her. It was going to happen eventually but this must be a world record, one week and I've already stuffed her up!"
Now with hindsight, I know these were the thoughts of a brand-new sleep deprived mum who had dreams of having the perfect child. What I didn't know then, but I do now, is that she was perfect and she still is. She has faults, some she was born with, and no doubt some I've probably given her. But she's perfect. She's so like me in so many ways, and in so many ways she's not.
She's long and she's gangly and she's all arms and legs, which I've never been and will never be. But she lives in her head, just like me. She talks to herself, just like I do. She's quiet and shuts down and thinks that her thoughts some times controls the world, just like me. All she wants is the romantic ideal of life, just like me.
Then there's Goosey. She's fiery and angry, not like me. She's more determined than anyone, not like me. She's full of self-belief, not like me. But she's compassionate, she's empathetic, and she knows her feelings affect those around her. She worries and feels and takes things on. She'll act to change if she can.
Then there's Darbs. Calm and controlled and funny and full of charm, not like me. Affectionate and kind and insightful beyond his years. Oh so secure. I told him tonight: "I love you more than anything!" and his reply: "Even more than your great-great- grandfather?" He's the most trusting soul I've ever come across and that in some ways reminds me of me. Maybe it's a third child thing. You just know there's some kind of safety net waiting to catch you.
I remember hearing my whole life "Try your best, that's all you can ask for." Until today, I think that's always been a bit of a cliche or a platitude. Try your best. That's for losers. I saw my girls run the cross country and they tried, their absolute best. I saw how much they were hurting and they didn't give up. I saw how much they wanted to give up and they didn't. I'm not afraid to say I welled up. I've never been prouder. Sure they didn't win, but as far as I'm concerned they did.
Rarely in life is anything quite like you expect it will be. If my 15-year-self met my 41-year-old self, I'm sure she wouldn't recognise me. As life really doesn't turn out like you plan.
Parenthood is definitely one of those things that wasn't like what I expected it to be. In all honesty, if it was something I'd signed up for and paid for I may not go as far as to ask for a refund, but I'd definitely be writing a letter to say 'this wasn't in the brochure'.
When my first-born was a newborn, I remember having a moment where I wished she was 7 or 8 years old. That she could talk and tell me what on earth was the matter, that I could just send to bed and not have to rock and pat and life as a parent would be a whole lot easier. Well, yes, it's true that some parts are easier, there are plenty of parts that are not.
Like every mother in the world, I have rolled my eyes when someone has told me to enjoy that time with your baby/toddler "because it goes so fast". Not bloody fast enough, I thought to myself. Now I see a gorgeous toddler and think wistfully back to those days at home pottering around and going for babycinos, carefully forgetting the sleepless nights, the mess and the constant nature of it all.
In the midst of the chaos of having young kids at home, I dreamed of a day where they would go to school all day, pretty much take care of themselves and I could just do the "fun" stuff. Yeah right.
Having kids in school sometimes feels like harder work. It's probably not harder, just hard but in a different way. People say to me now, you mustn't know yourself having the kids in school and being back in the office. And yes, I'd say it's true.
Take today for example. My youngest had a high fever and his cries in the night had me finding him in his bedroom hallucinating and speaking gibberish. After a lot of worry, a dose of panadol and some comforting he went back to sleep, seemed calm and a few short hours later the day began. You have to hit the ground running with three kids to get off to school. Lunches, uniform, books, notes, whatever weird and wonderful thing they need for that day.
By 9.30am today, I had already made lunches, got kids ready, had a parent-teacher conference for the eldest and attended an ENT specialist appointment for the middle one. All while answering Slack messages and emails from work. By 9.30am I'm usually arriving at work, but today with a sick boy, I went home after the doctor appointment, tag teamed with the husband while he went to the office.
Working from home can be good and bad. Some days I get heaps done, others not so much. This morning was warm and there was glorious sunshine so I took advantage of the situation and did a few loads of washing. I was feeling very satisfied with my less-full laundry basket and the sight of white shirts flapping in the warm breeze. You know, being grateful for small things.
It was then time for another few messages, some reading for work, a bit of fluffing around the house and attending to the patient, when the phone rang. It was Wendy the school secretary. I had already spoken to Wendy twice this morning about late students, absent kids, so I was surprised to see her number pop up again. The eldest wasn't feeling well and could I come and collect her. So off I went to school, seeing Wendy yet again and thinking, I speak to her almost more than anyone else in Brisbane.
Walking through the front gate once we got home, Lil screamed "SNAKE!" I was a little concerned but we'd had a few pythons around so wasn't too upset. This snake was different though. Yelling to get inside, trying to get a photo of the snake so I could identify it and Lil yelling at me that the door was locked and Darbs crying cause he felt awful. Inside, a few phone calls later and we had identified the snake as an Eastern Brown Snake. One of the world's most deadliest. Awesome. By this time it had fled, or had it?
In between, I was still answering messages for work and trying to post some social media posts for the company. It was decided that on advice from the friendly snake man that we just had to bunker down and hope our reptile friend had left or would soon leave. But then I still had to go and pick up the third child from school. And my washing was still on the line. Quite possibly where the snake was.
Third kid collected and then taken for a playdate, which seemed like a good idea as her siblings were unwell and there was a deadly predator in our yard. As I drove back from dropping the kid at the playdate a fierce storm blew in and all I could think about was my white shirts on the line. And the loads of washing in the machine. And could I ever retrieve them if there was a snake there. "The snake won't stay out in this rain, Mum," Darbs told me. True, I thought, but where would it go was my worry.
So now I'm sitting here. Not having got much work done, the washing wetter than it was this morning, nothing planned for dinner, a couple of unwell (yet again) kids and a brown snake potentially taking up in our yard. Rather than sorting out any of these issues, I decided to write about it instead.
Now, I know this isn't hard. Because having an potentially fatal disease is hard, living in a war zone is hard, not having enough money to feed your kids is hard. It is, however, surprising. And really not quite what I expected.
My middle girl has been home unwell for what feels like a year. Yesterday she wanted to watch something and thought of having YouTube crap on in the background made my skin crawl, so I suggested that I pick something for her to watch. I have memories of watching old movies when I was unwell as a kid, "Gaslight", "Rebecca", "Pollyanna" and a host of other old movies that I fell in love with.
My girl is always keen to see something new, so she agreed, as long as she could could have the final say.
First choice, "Little Women", nup, sounds boring.
Second choice "Anne of Green Gables", oh I've heard of that, nup sounds boring.
Third, and final choice, "Playing Beattie Bow". Hmmmm OK, I'll try it.
Now, the fact that I can find all these movies at the press of a couple of buttons still amazes me. I sat with her for the first part of the movie to get her into it. A tale about a girl from modern Sydney who's transported back in time to 1873. As I watched, I realised that "modern" Sydney of the 1980s was almost as foreign to my girl as Sydney of 1873.
Listening to a cassette player after school ("What's that?"), eight year olds left to roam the streets of central Sydney, enormous boom boxes carried on people's shoulders, big bright Ken Down-esque jumpers. It's a strange place to a nine-year-old from 2017.
My other two have been equally fascinated by the world of "when you were a kid, mum". Darbs was asking the other day if I watched Pokemon as a kid. He was shocked to hear that I didn't, but was relieved to know that I at least had Batman.
"But cartoons were only really on a Saturday morning and sometimes after school," I told him.
"That's messed up, Mum!" he replied. "Couldn't just choose something to watch?"
"We didn't have Netflix then," I told him.
"What? Not even Stan?" was his reply.
"Nope, not even Stan. Just five channels and we had to watch whatever they decided to put on."
"Well, at least you had Batman. And at least you had telly, Grandma said she didn't have one. How's that!"
I then told him about videos and going to the shop to rent movies, having to rewind them to watch again.
"Did you have to borrow food from the shop too?" he asked.
"No, just videos. It's like the library, but we had to pay for them."
After a while, my antiquated world started to bore him.
Lil-lil was then interested to hear about lollies from the '80s. I told her tales of mixed bag of lollies that came in white paper bags and cost 20c for what seemed like a bounty.
"So you went to the local lolly shop and picked lollies?"
"Well, we didn't have a local lolly shop. You'd go to the milk bar and choose freckles and caramel buds for 1 or 2c each. Maybe a banana or a pineapple if you were feeling rich. When I went to the pool they had made up bags of mixed lollies and they were pretty good too. We had giant pythons too, but they really were giant," I told her.
"Wow, I wish we had a milk bar, that sounds awesome."
"They really were," I had to admit. Far better than a 7-11.
It's funny how things that are such a big part of your childhood really are just a snapshot in time.
Rewind before you return.
When I was 15 or so I watched a new TV series called Twin Peaks. Oh my goodness, how could a TV series change your life. When you're 15 everything changes your life. A song, a band, a movie - all of it makes you feel alive, makes you feel like you're living life in the world for the first time. No one has seen the world this way before you think.
My mum is here at the moment, helping me with the kids during the school holidays. Goosey was telling Grandma about Bruno Mars and just how amazing he is. She played a song of his to share and then she put on the Beatles and danced with equal gusto. My mum reminisced about the first time she heard the Beatles and how an older neighbour pined about just how terrible they were with their long hair and the racket they played.
Life is the same. But different. The kids listened to my mum tell about being their age and lighting the stove for dinner when she got home from school and walking to the outhouse in the dark and cold. They were horrified! Kids are much different today they said. Not so much, she replied. They still have the same worries and insecurities and fun and moments.
The new Twin Peaks is back on the box and I was so excited. I wanted to pick up where I left off. I wanted to have that feeling I had when I was 15. Except, I'm not 15 anymore. As much as I want to love it, it's darker and heavier and less innocent. There are more distractions. It's not the same. Neither am I.
The past couple of weeks, I've realised that I miss a time when there's no iphones or texts, or social media or streaming or binge watching. When you went out, you went somewhere and hoped you ran into people. You met up and talked. You waited a week to watch a show at a certain time, along with everyone else. News was news, because they didn't have to update endlessly. You waited to hear a song on the radio or you went to a store to buy a CD. Got excited to feel that crisp magazine cover in your hand and couldn't wait to get home to open it. Got excited by the prospect or something. The experience wasn't diminished by reading a review online as you walk in. Life felt more adventurous. When you're alone, you're alone. The moment was far easier to live in. Much less distraction.
I realise that makes me a dinosaur, but I'm OK with that. Actually I feel lucky to know what it's like to live without being ruled by device. To dream about what might be and not worry about what's not important.
I'm the mean mum who (for the moment) won't let my kids have iMessages and the like. But they can have their holidays doing exactly what they're doing and I know that when they see their friends on the first day back at school they'll have that exciting moment where they can swap stories and laughs. And that to me is precious.
It's a funny thing writing a blog and having all these little thoughts and memories to look back on. Sometimes I cringe and other times I'm reminded of a time and place that is long buried in the back of my brain. For whatever reason, I've been quite nostalgic recently, maybe due to binging on Party of Five last week.
I recently re-read a post I wrote about the dangling carrot of life and how we're often focussed on looking ahead to reach a "goal". While I still believe a lot of what I wrote in that post, there is a part that feels a little naive and I realise I've become a little more jaded as the years have gone by. In other ways, I'm also a little more optimistic.
As the great John Lennon wrote: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans" and this is all too true. Recently, though, I've spent a lot of time thinking about how things may have been if I'd done things differently. Hindsight is always 20/20, especially if you learn some lessons about the mistakes that you make and the wrong turn that you take.
Whatever path you take or choices you make, life will continue to unfold. It's relentless like that. Well, relentless until it's not.
The thought that keeps popping up into my head over and over is while it's great to be in the now and appreciate where we are, I'm going to go against current wisdom of living in the moment and say that I think we sometimes need to think longer and harder about how what we do now can affect where we end up.
As I drove the kids home last night from soccer training, thinking about having to spend another two hours tonight at netball training, hat will I cook for dinner so the kids can be fed, bathed and in bed at a reasonable hour and that I may actually get a moment to chat with Skip so we're not passing ships in the night. Darbs pipes up: "I can't wait to be an adult and do whatever I want, whenever I want!" As the thought that I wasn't doing anything I really wanted to be doing sprung into my head, Goosey quickly replied: "It wouldn't be that good, cause you'd just be dirty and eat lollies all the time, then you'd end up with diabetes and you'd die."
"No I wouldn't!"
"Yes, you would!"
"NO I WOULDN'T"
"YES! YOU WOULD!"
"MUUUUUUUUUM!"
Ahhh yes, being an adult and being able to do whatever you want to do....
Later in the evening, I was talking to one of my kids and asking if they'd been mean to one of their friends that day. "Well, yes, but it was funny."
I had to drag out the whole, "when you do something think about if you'd like it done to you, if don't then don't do it" lesson.
It's that old lesson, that I hope and pray will go into their heads, but as I look around life as an adult I wonder if it does. Ever. So often I see people who just go on, head charged and do things, because they deserve it. They're entitled to it. It makes them happy now, don't worry about later. Who cares who is hurt or affected. The live in the moment, YOLO rules, are adapted for themselves.
So, yes, my thought is live in the now and appreciate what is around you, learn from the past, but don't forget that what you do will affect the road ahead. After 40 years of life, I've discovered this to be oh so true.
Something weird has been happening to me the past few weeks, I've been cooking up new and wonderful things each day. This is unusual for me. Sure I've always liked experimenting in the kitchen now and again, but I boringly had a menu on rote, that I didn't really have to think too much about. I really like eating good food, but I wouldn't describe myself as a good cook, more of a competent home cook.
I've never really enjoyed cooking either. I do it more out of necessity than anything. I do it to provide nutrition to my family at the end of the day. I've always tried to make something nice for my family to give them a little bit of my love at the end of the day. It may sound corny, but it's true. What better kind of love can you give than a homemade meal to feed and grow your most important people. In reality though, I've never had the confidence or the intuition in the kitchen. Skip definitely has both and I've learnt so much through him.
Recently though, something inside has changed inside me. I'm whipping up new kinds of meals and salads. I'm blending up marinades and dressings like I'm on MasteChef. I'm making things that taste good, really good (with a few exceptions - looking at you last night's Jamie Oliver's Asian salmon with sweet potato). I've got this kind of kitchen Mojo happening. It's weird.
Just this morning I was blending up two types of marinade for tonight's dinner and since then I've been thinking about dressings and potentially making cauliflower rice. Who the hell am I?
Last week we had guests and I made up way too many salads and desserts.
I'm sure there's lots of deep dark psychological reasons these kitchen capers are occurring or maybe I'm just developing a new hobby later in life. Either way, it's giving me a little bit of happiness.
I've lived in 7 cities across four countries during my life. This makes it hard to call a place home. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. This idea of "home". While the most obvious place to call home would be Sydney, where I spent the majority of my life, where I was born, where most of my friends and family are. But less and less Sydney feels like home.
The past week, indeed the past year, has been a challenging one. Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling drained and empty. One of those kind of mornings when I could have easily pulled the doona over my head and stayed there all day. I did think about it.
Instead, Skip suggested a drive. We took off down the highway, headed for the border and waved the Sunshine State goodbye, for a couple of hours at least. We drove into Byron Bay and within minutes of getting out of the car I started to fill up with goodness. There is something in the air there. The sky in a special colour, the grass is a special colour, even the dirt is a special colour. The light is different and there is just a magic I can't translate to words or a picture.
There's always music in the air and as I took deep breaths I felt like I was drinking up a tonic. Before long all the anxiety melted out of me and I felt .... better. The kids laughed and ran, it has the same affect on them. Skips eyes brightened and I could see him visibly relax too.
I chuckled at the memories of my girls as tiny dots scurrying on the beach, loving their "Bine Bay", eating 'circle fish' and chasing sea gulls. As a busker played a Pearl Jam song I was taken back to standing on the same spot 22 years earlier feeling the first tastes of freedom of being a 'grown up'. I really didn't want to leave.
We walked around and the girls pointed out places they remembered too. "That's where the pink lemonade got spilt", "That's where we watch the Anzac Day march", "That's where Uncle Jack bought us ice cream".
It's funny how a place you know so well, but has never actually been 'home' can feel so much like home. It's a place that has so many good memories, that makes me feel so good, I know that I will feel like that every time I return. Hopefully one day, I will have my own little patch there to call home. I know that it will always be my special place to go and regroup and feel like my true self. It was always be my tonic.
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Byron Bay makes me as happy as these guys... |
Yesterday morning started off like any other morning. Crawling out of bed after a late night, making school lunches. The rain had been bucketing down all night as the remnants of Cyclone Debbie headed our way. I kept looking out the window wondering how I was going to make it to school drop off without an umbrella.
There was a knock at the door. Our neighbour checking in on us. Warning that our street may get flooded in, it's only happened three times that she could remember, but it was a chance. Oh and it you have anything under your house you may want to move it to higher ground.
Hmmm, I thought, but wasn't too concerned. I went under the house and moved a few odds and ends up. Cleared the drains around the house. Then felt pretty ready.
As I came back inside the TV had "Queensland schools closed today!" in red across the screen and Skip relaying the news. What? I thought. That can't be!n Crazy! Like Dubai, when a drop of rain could cause a school to close!
So I abandoned schools lunches and got on the phone to let my class (that I class parent of) know not to bother to turn up to school today.
A quick trip to Woolies to get some food for the rest of the day and the rain kept on coming down. Dreams of cuddles on the couch with the kids, popcorn and movies.
Movies were put on the telly. Toys were dragged out. I kept checking around the house that the drains were cleared. Slowly the backyard was beginning to fill with water, but nothing too remarkable. I drained water from the pool twice as the rain kept coming down. Of course we were fine, what could happen? We're not near the river. Or anything. It will just be a wet day.
The street began to fill with rain water and the gutters poured out a water fall. More and more and more water. Hmmm. I worried about the front path, looked at the door. We'll be fine.
Skip arrived home from work drenched. The office shutting for the day mid-morning. Overboard! We looked around and he decided to get changed before taking a look around outside. While he changed I went outside to take a look around, just as I had many times already, and just as I did a torrent of water came gushing down. Filling up the underneath of our house. A wave. A brown wave of water.
"We're flooding!" I yelled. "Kids let Dad know that we're flooding."
I looked up near our pool and it was a river coming down. The water was up to my knees and rising. I looked under the house and our washing machine was floating around in a couple of feet of water. I looked out the water kept coming. Rushing around as the water kept rising and rising. Dark brown water, I sloshed through. Every moment or so hoping there was no snake. No lizard. No toad. Especially no snake. Kids leaned out their bedrooms windows. "What's happening! Look at the water!"
After what felt like a lifetime the water stopped rushing through. Calm came over. Water sloshed under house slowing pouring out. The pool was a brown swirling mess. Branches, trees, rubble mess.
The news report said "This is nothing, the worst is to come". Seriously? Shit! It felt like calm but we were braced. What else could we do?!
Last week, the husband and I went away for a week. It's the longest we've spent away from the kids since Lil-lil arrived 10.5 years ago.
Returning this week has been a thud back to reality - school lunches, tuck shop duty, parent/teacher nights, netball organisation, bath/dinner/bed routines, being woken up to "Muuuuuuuuuuum" in the wee hours of the morning. Winery lunches and late nights at whisky bars it's certainly not.
Of course, coming back filled me with all the things I need to focus on and would like to achieve for the rest of the year. Becoming an employed member of society, making our home more of a home, expanding our social circle, entrenching ourselves into life in Brisbane, worrying about the kids.
Feeling like I haven't ticked nearly enough boxes and feeling a little of the post-holiday blues, I've been rather down at the mouth the past couple of days. Those times when everything just seems like too much or too much hard work or too something.
As hard as the post-holiday blues are, it's worth it in so many other ways. Spending time with Skip, seeing new sights, just chatting away or soaking up the spectacular scenery in comfortable quiet, being adults - not mum & dad. Doing what we want on the spur of the moment and not having to hear "Can we go home now?" Now that's special.
Next week, we'll have been married 12 years. This is our 20th year together. So many stories, adventures and life tales we've created together. We've lived in many different cities and even countries together. We've packed a lot into the half a lifetime we've spent together. It's a rich story. Above all else, he still makes me laugh.
On the plus side of returning home was seeing the kids. I've had a whole week of being appreciated, which is almost unheard of! The eldest keeps telling me how happy she is to have me home, she even stopped and chatted with me at tuck shop today rather than pretend she didn't know who I was. The middle one keeps giving me little notes that say "Even though I don't always like you, I love you more than anything". The youngest keeps cuddling me and telling me "You're the best!". So I'm soaking up the love before it's replaced with eye rolls, door slamming and "Mean mummy!"
Life can never be all winery lunches and whisky bars, or I love you notes and adoration. It's mostly scrubbing pots at tuckshop and remembering to have clean uniforms ready for the morning. It's scraping uneaten dinners that were lovingly made into the bin. Arguing over whether "Neighbours really existed in the olden days" (it did and Toady was in it even then) and buying outrageously expensive netball uniforms. It's about explaining why you can't tell the tuck shop that you were supposed to have tuck shop when there's a bread roll you know full well about sitting in your lunch box and there must have been 'some kind of mistake'. "Real life" is annoying and frustrating and unpleasant and boring, but at the end of the day as I scrape those uneaten dinners into the bin I hear that laugh. That laugh that makes me sigh deeply and then chuckle myself.
Across the front of today's paper is splashed: "Hottest summer in Queensland's history!" I was chatting to some mums at netball the other day and they were all complaining that it was the hottest summer they could remember, not having anything to compare it with I had to trust them and it appears they were right. There were 64 days above 30 degrees. That's a lot of sweating!
It's funny, because while it was hot, it didn't feel especially hot to me. Sure it was warm and I sighed in the humidity, but I also noticed that my kids could still play outside and there was a breeze and cool changes. I guess those long, long hot Dubai summer's have steered me well. Before we moved to Brisbane, so many people said to me: "Why would you move there, it's so hot!", but when you live through months and months of temperatures that never dip below 38 day or night it's a relative thing.
My kids, like most kids, are prone to a hyperbole. They often have "the best day ever" or "the worst day of my life" or "the toughest life". I often irritate them when they say something is "the worst thing ever" that their life must be pretty good that's as bad as it gets.
Us humans generally go through life looking out from just one perspective, after all, that's what we know. Then occasionally we're shown another perspective or viewpoint or something changes our perspective and it's like waking up. Oh my goodness, that same old outlook appears completely different! It's like being in a new world and we can't remember how the old view looked.
Over the weekend, I jumped into the pool by myself a couple of time (being the hottest summer ever, after all). I floated and looked up at the clouds and they swirled in the blue above me. I started to feel a little queasy as I wasn't exactly sure where I was as floated around, was I about to bang my head on the wall? Which way was which? It was relaxing and unsettling at the same time. The pool that I look out at each day seemed like a whole new place.
Most arguments we have are because we feel like people can't see the world the way we see it. And, of course, we believe we're seeing the world in the 'most true' way. I know that I get so frustrated when I look at people who are bogged down by what they see as 'the right thing', not realising what they're missing or who they're hurting, wishing they could see something just out of their line of vision. Thinking that if they took a look from a different angle, or from a different viewpoint a whole new world might just open up.
I need to remind myself of this constantly, even if it feels strange or makes me queasy. We might not want to look from another perspective, we might be afraid that we'll discover that our vision isn't quite what we thought it was. That thing we felt was so strong and so true, that thing that has hypnotised us, actually looks a bit fake. Like when you're in the cheap seats of a magic show and you can just see the fishing line the magician is holding. Or when you're on the side at the theatre and can grab a glimpse backstage of the actors changing costume.
Perspective changes everything.
It's a really interesting time in the world at the moment. As I was sitting in the car on the long drive home to Brisbane from Melbourne, we had the radio on and there were many hours of hearing the news bulletins on repeat - Trump's inauguration and the awful event in Melbourne were, of course, the big stories of Friday and Saturday.
I'm a positive person, I'm not someone to start yelling that the sky is falling the moment something bad happens, because the unfortunate nature of our world and of humans means that something bad is always going to happen. On the flip side, something good is always going to happen too.
As we saw on the weekend with the Women's Marches around the world, people were stirred up and being stirred is a great thing. When we get angry, riled, passionate, when we feel something, good things can come of that. We realise the importance of truth, kindness, respect and how not only how fragile those things can be, but also how, in the hands of a majority of people, how strong they can be too.
I know that Trump and the people like him (such as a certain redhead regaining popularity in our country) are going to say and do some despicable things in the forthcoming months and years ahead. In reaction to this I also see a rise in good people speaking out too. I see a rise in people being urged to write and create. I foresee great music, movies, art and literature being created and used as a weapon against ignorance and fear and intolerance. As history has told us bad things happen and nasty people exist, and in the face of it good people dig down and create good things in response – as long as we keep feeling something and not remain apathetic.
Perhaps, it's a great reminder, especially for the younger generation that we need to continue to fight for the things that are important. A reminder that is wasn't too long ago that women weren't able to vote, to easily divorce, have control over their own bodies or their own lives. A reminder that those before us had to fight incredibly hard to gain the rights that we take for granted. That it wasn't so long ago that, shamefully and mind-bogglingly, indigenous Australians weren't even recognised as Australian citizens.
So as long as we keep thinking critically and logically, as long as we stay stirred up and keep apathy at bay, as long as we aren't short-sighted or have short memories, I truly believe some great things can come about. What do you think?
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That moment we turned into the Christmas markets at Schonnbrunn Palace. |
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Snaps from Salzburg's Christmas Markets |
Over the weekend my family and I decided to take a little road trip. Go exploring.
We headed down the coast when Skip said: "why don't we keep driving to Byron Bay" and we decided why not indeed! Before we knew it we were sipping coffee as we wandered around The Farm and then devouring fish and chips next to the sparkling sea.
Byron has always been my happy place, somewhere I've just felt relaxed, rejuvenated. I went there for a day visit when I was 15 and then went to schoolies there 22 years ago when the love affair truly began. Then there were end of Uni-year getaways, which eventually morphed into family holidays and most recently Skip and I escaped for an adults only vacay.
When Skip and I went on our kid-free Byron, I was saying that I believed self-help is going to be the next big thing (again) for all the 20 and early 30-somethings who have lived their adult lives on social media who are suddenly looking for more. Looking for meaning beyond likes and summing up themselves with emojis. This idea fascinated me, so I've been reading a lot of the self-help stuff that's around and realised what a lot of drivel it is. Really it offers "motivation" and "taking control of your life" and finding "inner happiness" but most of it is written in a way that can be adapted for any situation. So it's a one size fits all approach, you can read into it whatever you want to read into and then hold it up as "proof" of a way to live or a "key" on your journey to fulfilment. In my mind it's just telling your whatever you want to hear to justify your choices.
As we were wandering around on our day exploring we can across a lovely guy with Down syndrome busking. He had a sign up saying he was an international rock star, he wore a glittery hat and he danced like there was no tomorow. Pure joy right there. He was having the time of his life and his joy made us all smile goofy smiles.
The thing is the real key to happiness is right there in front of us. It's jumping in the car and driving somewhere special. It's singing your lungs out in the car to a song you're heard a million times. It's giggling as you watch the kids jump over waves. It's dancing without inhibition in your lounge room. It's licking the salt and grease off your fingers of a decent piece of fried fish as your toes dig into the sand. It's laughing until your belly aches at something silly or inappropriate. It's dreaming about doing it all again next weekend. It's closing your eyes and dancing to your beat.
So yesterday was a magic day. Being in my favourite place with my four most favourite people on a most gorgeous day. That right there is happiness. A little memory that I'll carry with me.