Harden up!

So it was my DD’s last day at kindy yesterday and you could have been forgiven for thinking that it was my last day on God’s green earth.  I felt so sad for the end of such a wonderful year, but anybody who knows me, knows I tend to grieve for the end of anything.  Even a book.  I get this sense of ‘loss’ that seems to envelop me and that I can’t tend to shake.

Yesterday was yet another example.  I tried a few times to thank my daughter’s fantastic C&K teachers for doing such a wonderful job throughout the year, and yet I couldn’t get past the initial smile.  The mere thought of saying thank-you and what I wanted to say, was enough to produce a lump in my throat so big that I had to just walk away each time.  Pathetic.  I mean, REALLY?!  What the hell am I going to do when she finishes primary school?  Or high school?  Or uni?!  Let’s all hope that I get over it by then and harden up.

Aldi Showdown

Everytime I put my groceries on the conveyor belt at Aldi, my anxiety levels are already rising.  By the time I pull my trolley around to “face off” with my opponent (read: check-out operator), I’m mentally thinking: “Let’s dance”…

The usual pleasantries are exchanged, but in Aldi they seem to be so much shorter than my local Woolies or Coles.  Even the customer contact is less?!  And then we’re off.  With swift, practised precision, they’re swiping all my groceries through at an alarming rate.  If I don’t keep up and move the groceries into the trolley fast enough, we have a ‘back-up’ situation that I somehow find embarrassing?!  I mean, how ridiculous right?  This is a mere transaction.

They scan the groceries.  I put them in the trolley.  Simple. And yet I have managed to put a competitive spin on it in my mind.  If I can keep up with them and clear the groceries almost as soon as they’ve been scanned, I am “winning”.

But that’s not all.  I am actually planning the entire thing as I’m shopping.  I’m mindful to put all the heavy stuff to the front, so that when it comes time to load onto the belt, I can place all the tins and heavy things first.  This way, when I’m loading back into my trolley, I’m putting heavy first and all fruit and veg on top, thus saving them from getting squashed.  Did I really just waste minutes of my life by typing this paragraph?  And am I REALLY going to hit “create post” after this?

Yes, dear non-existent reader.  Oh yes, I am.

Groan.

Srsly.

I need to get a life.

Change of plans!

Oh what a difference a couple of weeks makes!  Two weeks ago I was on a high.  Decision made.  I’m goin’ back to work baby!!  Only to be shattered by the news that we didn’t get a place for DS.  I hung up the phone, put my head in my hands and cried like a baby.  And I don’t mean screamed, kicking my legs while simultaneously trying to scratch whoever is holding me.  I actually mean, just cried.  Shoulders and everything.

But after a couple of days, I began to see the universe had other plans for me.  No rushing back to work for this little black duck (who you calling ‘black).  I am at peace with the fact that I will be at home for a little longer than anticipated.

Maybe we’ll get a place next month, or next week, or even tomorrow.  But whatever happens, I’m happy to roll with it…

Ugliness within

I’ve got a lot of friends.  I make friends relatively easily and I love being around people.  Yet more and more, I find myself disliking myself and feeling truly ugly underneath.  This isn’t something that I want anymore.  I want to make a conscious decision to put it out with yesterday’s garbage.

All of my friends can’t be wrong, right?  There must be something nice about me, otherwise I’d have no friends to speak of.  So why do I constantly try to be someone else?  I’ve always wanted to be the best version of me I could possibly be, and sometimes, when the ugliness shows through, I truly dislike myself and wish I could be a “better person”.

Talking to my sister-in-law today (who, as it happens, is somebody I try to emulate for her patience and reasonableness) and she reasoned that everybody feels the same way.  That SHE feels the same way.  And it stumped me.

I guess it never occurred to me that other people would feel ugly too…

Mark Twain once said that he could live off a compliment for a good two months

“I think you know how to write”.  Seven words.  Seven little words that I will probably replay in my brain for a long, long time.

Those seven words were said to me by a friend whose opinion I seek, and whose opinion matters.  Why does his opinion matter?  Because I believe he knows what he’s doing in his life and his career.  And his career is almost in alignment with what I am seeking.  I had been waiting for his thoughts on my blog, having given in and sent him the link to my Tumblr page.  He said a bunch of other things as well, but those seven words are what I will remember always.

Besties...

There’s something about old friends.  Something safe and warm and incredibly comfortable.  They’re like my tracky daks after a day of corporate wear.  Do I need to explain?  Didn’t think so.

I have a lot of friends.  And I love making new friends, meeting new people and seeing things from different perspectives.  Through my children I have met and made groups of friends I would probably have never met B.K. (Before Kids).  Sometimes it doesn’t work, but other times, it does, and it’s great.  So my point is that I have a lot of friends and I know that through my life, I’ll make even more friends.

But nothing comes close to my old friends.  The friends who were there before kids. Before my husband. Before I had a job. Before my Mum and I started getting along.  They know things about me that I don’t even know.  They remember things I don’t remember.  They’ve been with me through bad hair, bad skin, bad clothes, bad boys and bad, bad make-up.  And they still love me.  And I, them.

xx

The honeymoon is over.

I think it’s time.  The honeymoon is over.  My love affair of being a Stay at Home Mum is starting to wane.

For almost two years I have been in bliss, living the dream I never knew I wanted.  Looking after my two little munchkins and making sure the house runs smoothly.  For almost two years I fed and bathed these two in time for my hubby to arrive home from work.  Dinner would be minutes away from being on the table and I would marvel at how quickly my life had become a 1950s sitcom (sans the canned laughter).  For almost two years I did not think about work.

But recently the seed was planted, and maybe this was the reason, or it was just a natural occurrence, but my patience has been wafer thin.  I have been on. the. edge.

Suddenly, I can’t wait to get back to work and find my identity again.  I know, I know. I shouldn’t define myself by my job, but I can’t help it.  For most of my professional life, I defined myself in this way.  It has been a lovely break, being a Stay at Home Mum.  I have loved it.  But I feel all of us growing out of this stage of our lives.  My eldest is off to school next year and my youngest will be entering the child care system.

We will still have a majority of the week together, as I will only be working part-time.  But for now at least, the honeymoon is over.