I'm not always brimming with self-confidence, even if most days I try to talk up the positives. I am all too quick to compare myself unfavourably to others, and I'm pretty good at letting other people get under my skin. Hyper-sensitive is my middle name.

I have put my name down to do a one-day (Cycling) Ride Leader training course in a few weeks time. So what, huh? Well, normally I'd have just stood back and let Marc do it on behalf of our family, because it is more his thing. (He's just a natural leader.) But he's got netball coaching commitments that day, and there's no way I'm standing in for them (again!). I do stand firm on some issues! And the BUG (Bicycle User Group) needs people to support this course, and so I feel like one of us should go.

But more importantly I think I need to do it for myself.

The problem? These days I'm much more comfortable cruising along in the supporter role. The 2IC. (All care and no responsibility perhaps..?)

I'm all for learning stuff .. but the thing that scares me most is the concept of being (offically) assessed and judged by someone else. A written exam? - pffft - that wouldn't worry me. But I'm imagining that, given the latest trend in courses (even in First Aid!) we will have to 'act out' some sort of scenario in the class and be judged upon it. Taking turns to be the leader or something, and that just freaks me right out. I have never harboured any desires or abilities as an actor, yet I feel that that is what I will be judged on.

(I've considered going back to uni and doing a Dip Ed, and becoming a teacher, but the thing that scares me most about teaching is being assessed by someone else on my ability to teach!)

It doesn't help that I know there will be someone involved in this bike course who is the type that has this amazing ability to make me feel insecure. (I won't link to it now, but I did do a post once about a person who did a big rant about employing bloody housewives who had the temerity to hope for flexible working hours... and so, yep... And who last time I spoke to them after a ride, they ignored me... Hmmmm. )

I have had a bit of a history in jobs with other women, in particular, who have taken it upon themselves to make me feel like I am useless, and inadequate - who in fact set out to bring me down - so perhaps I am carrying a bit of baggage around with me. (Pretty heavy baggage to be carrying around for 20 years, huh...)

So, anyway, having bitten the bullet and decided this week to get over myself and do this course (*big deep breath*), I've had to do a lot of self-talking. (I do a lot of self-talking in general about trying to pull myself together anyway - god it gets noisy up in my head sometimes - and this little example is but a small chunk out of the barrier I need to climb over so that I can figure out what to do with the rest of my life ...)

I also confessed my anxieties about the course to the BUG president and he very wisely told me that I'm not the only person who finds certain people difficult ("ask around!") and "Don't take anything personally is a rule for living happily. Another one is face your demons." (Worth putting in bold I thought. Very good advice.)

For some reason this song - below - jumped into my head the other night, even before that exchange above, and I found myself half singing it to myself under my breath. I have no idea where it came from. A mantra from above? Then, in the supermarket checkout yesterday, I heard it again - for real this time - being played on the PA.

It must be a sign.

So for me. And for Rootie this week, too. And Magic B, lately. (Both of whom are dealing with far worse than me.) But also probably every one of us at some point, to varying degrees.

This is for us.




[For those with technological hassles, the song is I Am Beautiful]

Labels: introspection

I had a couple of experiences recently where my mind started banging on to itself about how important it was to have the right tools for the job. One literally was quite literal - the other was a just a tad metaphorical. I do this to myself occasionally - come over all profound and introspective. Occasionally I even blog about it. (Who am I kidding?.. these days anything that happens gets a mental run-through as a blog post. I'm not sure that it's a particularly worthy or healthy pastime, but there you go. My sad, crazy life.)

I possibly mentioned that I had #3 daughter's school swimming carnival the other week. I pulled a pretty good con on her, I must confess. (I'm not sure if it's just that I've finally figured out how to do it after having been through the experience of the other two before her, or just that she is more pliable to my suggestions and emotional blackmail!):

"I'll come to the swimming carnival if you go in everything."

It might sound harsh, but my point was that, courtesy of swimming in a one-hour swimming squad, once a week, year round, she had the ability. I didn't give a toss whether she got any places, I just wanted her to take part. To have a go. And after fighting through a lot of rubbish in the past with the other two who were capable enough (to win the races even) but who baulked in various years at having a go at either the 100m freestyle, or the 200m IM, (And then being embarrassed when they only went in it because a friend would, and then they flogged said friend by 50m...) I was a bit over the whole cajoling thing. (Feeling sorry for the third child her yet?)

To Zoe's credit, she said "OK". (She must have really, really wanted me there!) And she set out on the day to do just that, even though it was raining, and she shivered in the marshalling area between races, with me running back and forth with a polar-fleece jacket. The only one I really had to do any sweet talking for was the 200m medley. Sure, 200m is a long way, especially after being in all the other events - and this was like doing each of the other events put together without stopping! But I pointed out to her that she didn't even have to try to go fast, but just go in it to see if she could do it. "We don't try to win our bike rides, do we? We just go in them to go the distance."

And so she did! I was so proud of her! And as she was the only junior girl (10 yrs & under) to do so, she won it! And by coming first in that, and one other race, and getting a couple of seconds, she emerged from the day as Junior Girls Champion.

Even she came up with the line: "You've gotta be in it to win it!" Smart girl!

My other two also did well at their swimming through primary school. - particularly #2. She has a beautiful swimming style that she could have taken places had she had the inclination to train 5 days a week! (*But she didn't and doesn't and that is ok.)

But the rest of it? As I reflected on my childhood, where I never got ribbons in any kind of race, I am convinced that, through "giving" my kids the year round swimming squad classes, we have given all three some very handy tools. They can very competently swim the length of an Olympic pool. (A few times even!) And as a two-for-the-price-of-one offer, they also get the aerobic fitness that these classes give them. (So apart from not being totally knackered from going in every swimming event at school, they get the cross-training type of fitness that has allowed them all to be able to run round a cross country track, and do OK at that as well.)

So they have picked up a few sporting ribbons (and trophies) along the way, which has to do wonders for their self confidence and self image. They are the sort that some parents grumble about, I suppose. Those bloody 'high achievers'. Thing is, they wouldn't be up there if they hadn't been given the tools with which to do so in the first place. And the right attitude to use those skills. You can't throw a kid in the pool and expect them to successfully swim the length of it through sheer willpower alone! (And trust me, I have seen parents do that!)

When I've had to work a bit on the 'attitude' part, hearing parents say to their kids who want to go in everything "Are you sure? It might be a bit much..." makes me shake my head and wonder what message they are trying to give their kids. Give up if it seems a bit hard?

While I often batter myself about the head (metaphorically speaking of course!) about many aspects of my parenting, this is one area I think we're getting right somehow. It has been disappointing to see the eldest, once in high school, give up the swimming and running that she achieved in, but at least she has had the choice. And those tools are in her repertoire now for whenever she needs them down the track. She knows how to use them now. The rest is up to her.


The following day I had my literal 'tools for the job' experience which got me going on my whole tools analogy in the first place.

I went bike riding with a group of cycling friends. One of the girls, Cheryl, is training herself up to do the Great Escapade - this year's version of the Big Ride, only a tad longer. (You can read all about it on her cycling blog that she has set up on it.)

The tools? I do carry a spare tube, and some tyre levers, but I'll confess that I've never had to change a bike tube, solo, on the road. Usually I'm with Marc - on our tandems - and so, seeing he is far more competent than me, and time is usually of the essence, he will just change the tube, I'll hand him anything he needs, then off we go again.

I had also never had a flat on my road bike in the 800km I'd clocked up since buying it last year!

That dream run was bound to come to an end, and I've been kind of expecting it to happen as I've been getting out a bit riding with others but without my attendant bike mechanic. Dreading it is more the word, because while I knew the theory of changing a tube, I knew I'd be 'hell slow' at doing it, and inclined to getting very flustered if anyone with expertise was hanging over me.

Well, that day I got FOUR flats! I was all ready to tackle my first one, but we had in our group a knight in shining armour - a very experienced cyclist - who happens to have taken a shine to Cheryl, and has become her unofficial coach and mentor. Naturally with his experience, he can change a bike tube in around 2 minutes. He zoomed up to me, took ove (looked at my pump, and used his own) changed it, and had me back on the bike before I knew what I was doing.

When I got the second flat about 10km later, I'd slowed behind the group, and, as I'd depleted my supply of spare tubes [ie. 'tube. singular'], I pulled out my mobile and rang Marc with the idea of getting him to duck out of work, and either buy me a new tube on the way, or just pick me up.

The knight in shining armour had other ideas - and a cache of spare tubes - as he whizzed back, put a new one in and put me on the bike again. On the other end of the phone I was getting instructions from Marc on how to check for glass or wire in the tyre, but I had to tell him it was out of my hands!

I got yet another flat a few kilometres later, but the gallant knight took over and put yet another tube in. There was a thunderstorm approaching, and with Cheryl trying to achieve a PB of 100km in one day, time was of the essence. But with the fourth flat I deliberately fell behind, and said to those who had stopped with me 'Enough is enough. You guys keep going, and I'll call Marc to come and get me.'

As you'll see if you read Cheryl's write-up, Marc later found the culprit buried in the tyre. A teensy weensy bit of glass. Those tubes would have just kept going down all day and all night!

But where am I going with this little anecdote? Well, while it was all very nice to be looked after - and I rely on my own personal knight in shining armour just about every other time I go riding - I knew that for me to be relatively self-sufficient with this cycling business, that I needed to get myself set up with the right tools for the job. (ie. more tubes, patching kit, for starters). And the skills to use them. And enough attitude next time to send the group off ahead while I manage my tube-changing learning curve myself!

Since then I've had another tube changing and 'sharp object in tyre checking lesson' from my live-in bike mechanic, and also learnt how to patch a tube. Next time I ride I'll be setting out with the right tools, the skills to use them, AND the right attitude.

After all, if I expect my kids to use the tools they have been given, then so should I.

Labels: introspection

Conventional wisdom tells you that surrounding yourself with upbeat people is a good thing to do for your self esteem. Like.. "Seek to surround yourself with encouraging upbeat people who will inspire and motivate you rather than bring you down. Enthusiasm is contagious..."

Bla bla bla.

Why then do I find the opposite to be true? My self confidence and mood tends to plummet in inverse proportion to how optimistic and upbeat someone is about themselves.

The more a bouncy and enthusiastic friend/acquaintance talked themselves up yesterday (new job, going well, everyone loves her...) the more inadequate and useless I felt about myself. I came home in a funk, and that funk continues today.

Not that I want to surround myself with pessimists just so I can feel comparatively better about myself, but 'glass half full' would do - it doesn't need to be overflowing... all over others.

I wonder if eternally optimistic, self-confident people realise how they might affect those of us who struggle with glass half emptiness... and feeling... different.

Anyway... after getting that off my chest, I'll just make a note to self not to hang around people who make me feel inadequate.

Labels: introspection

I've alluded from time to time here about my eternal internal conflict. I don't have job. (Because I think it would make life for all the family so much harder (me included) - particularly with the history of Marc working away so much, and not having any extended family for back up.)

But I would like to work to feel like a useful and contributing member of the family and society.

I'm continually beating myself up over it.

I tend to dread the question "So what do you do?" , and I've never quite come up with the perfect answer.

This morning I went into town to a new 'pre-work' Thursday morning community bike ride. 26km of exercise I wouldn't have otherwise done, and being school holidays I wasn't going to feel guilty about not being at home to get kids off to school. (Marc is away in Sydney for 3 days.)

Afterwards I was asked the Dreaded Question. By a woman who runs one of the local bike shops and a travel agency. (And probably several other things I don't know about.) She is the classic Business Woman, and I probably should have predicted her attitude.

"So, do you work in town... or do you work from home?" she asked me.

I said that, no, well, I don't actually work, and muttered stuff about Marc working away a lot, and me being around for the kids. (In hindsight I should have just said I 'worked at home'.)

As an afterthought I added "I'd work If I could find a 9-3 job."

I wasn't quite prepared for the vehemence of her response:

"Oh I get so sick of these women applying for jobs, but only wanting 9-3, and two or three days a week... and school holidays and the like. I can't operate a business like that.."

Some smartarse added "If you want hours like that there's school teaching."

I shrugged my shoulders and said "So, yeah, well, that's why I don't even bother applying... That's why I don't work."

I guess some of it is regional town mentality. But today, well... She basically just cemented the reticence I have always had about approaching anyone locally for a job with the flexibility I want and need.

It shouldn't be impossible to find work with flexible hours. In Sydney my sister saw and applied for the perfect job - it was advertised for 2 days a week, 9 - 3. Perfect. (And she got it.)

I know other people who get offered casual/part time/flexible work - hours that suit them. How do they do it?

By now I realise that nothing like that is going to land in my lap. If nothing else, this morning's little anecdote has convinced me that I'll need to pursue some sort of work from home.

Meanwhile I need to work on a flippant response to The Question. Something like "Oh, we have a very traditional division of labour at home. He earns the money, and I spend it."

Labels: introspection

Well, no, but you'd have thought I just did.
I'm just that sort of Mum. Suggesting incredulously ridiculous things.

[8am, yesterday, 15 mins before Ms 14 has to catch the bus to school]:
"Mum, mum, can you sign my sport choice form for next term. It's due in today."

[wondering why this wasn't brought out last night]:
"Basketball again? Why don't you try something different?... like.... there's Surf Awareness. (Run by a guy who is the President of the Surf Lifesaving club, and who also is our swim coach. So I think she'd learn something. ) Umm.. or what about trying yoga? "

"Are you out of your mind? Like, I hated Nippers when I did it..."

"... Yes, but this would be another way of picking up a bit more surf knowledge without having to do all the nipper stuff that you hated."

" OH MY GOD, Mum... They do THEORY and stuff... Why would I want to do that? I'm supposed to look forward to Wednesday afternoon sport, not dread it."

[Mum ponders whether school sport is meant for just stuffing around or....]

"And YOGA? I can't believe you think I should do YOGA! Oh my GOD!... [turning to sisters].. She thinks I should try YOGA?!!!"

[Grasping at straws] "Well, if you don't want to use this as an opportunity to try different stuff, don't expect me to pay for you to do iceskating in Term 4, which I know you will want to do.."

[She grabs sheet and slams out the door muttering that I only have to sign it if the sport involves a cost.
This morning she presents the sheet muttering that I still do have to sign it. As a concession she's put Yoga in at Preference #4, knowing full well that she'll get First preference, basketball, anyway. I give up and just sign the damn thing.]

***
I've thus had a day of pondering my parenting- in regard to this issue, and still have no answers. I mean, do you just go along with whatever the little darling wants, or do you have a duty, as a parent, to try and encourage them to think beyond their own little world? To look outside the square, to branch out and try new things? Where do you draw the line of toughness on it? If you just meekly make a suggestion, you may as well not make it at all, because the initial reaction will always be 'You're a moron Mum.'

We (Marc and I) are also pondering our instinctive reaction to her maths. After that last saga, where I finally threw my hands up and stopped nagging her to study (in a 'lead the horse to water, can't make it drink' fashion), she has come home with vastly improved test results lsat week, placing SECOND in the class with the major part of the test. (Gaining something like 85%). Pending some more results from kids who did the test later, and the results of the 'non-calculator' section of the test. Still the teacher gave her a Commendation Ticket for it. So she is all 'Go me!' Woot! I am a legend!' And, being terrible parents, we are pleased but gobsmacked, and actually quite disillusioned. Because we all but had to chain her to the table to revise. So she didn't do her best. She did what we dragged her kicking and screaming to do. And, if she can improve that much by that method, how much could she improve if she actually sat down, voluntarily, and revised and studied like a normal student is expected to do!

So she accused me of never being satisfied, and she has a point. Thing is, we only want her to do her best.. that's all. It's just that wasn't actually her best.

It is also a terrible indictment on the school she attends - that their second placed maths student in Year 9 is actually not that good. Because, no! she is not that good at maths! In many ways she can be quite dumb at maths! And dumb would be ok IF she tried her best, and that was the best she could give. But we still haven't seen her give it her best.

So as a parent, do you have a responsibility to keep chipping away, against the odds, to try to help your kids be all that they can be? To try things. To take school seriously. Even the sport opportunities. To venture outside their comfort zone. Or do you just throw up your hands, and let them do whatever they think they want, even if that is below par for what you think they are capable of.

Where do you draw the line? You might know in your heart (from your own experience) that academic achievement is not the be all and end all. That there is the risk of burning out by the end of Year 12.. and then what? (Exhibit A - me)

Talking with each other last night we admitted that both of us were 'hard markers'. He is definitely so - to the point where I avoid raising dealing with stuff that I need or want his advice on, because I don't want him to chuck a wobbly. But, while I am tending to total slackness in many areas, here I am being a hard taskmaster on my daughter.

I guess finding the middle road somewhere in there is the goal. I just wish I had a map and directions.

Labels: introspection, kids, parenting

There is much concern in society about the health risks of drugs; even the legal drugs like alcohol and tobacco are blamed for their addictive properties, and the range of health risks involved. Those who seek altered states of consciousness through extreme sports are also criticised for the risks they take, and for ignoring the impact of their escapism addiction on their families.

I am here to tell you that there is another insidious addiction rampaging through our society. Less life threatening, but an addiction no less. I know. I am a victim.

This addiction actually is a health risk for those who can't control their usage. Sleep deprivation may seem trite as the prime health concern, but the latest research is ranking chronic sleep deprivation as a health risk up there with alcohol! Continuous uncontrolled participation can also have a dysfunctional impact on families, impinging on social interaction, and the normal functioning of a household. Especially if you're the mum.

What is even worse is that society exhorts us to partake in this activity! Parents are bombarded by material from teachers railing at us to get our children to do this. And to do it often!

What is this dangerous activity? It's reading!! I am a reading addict. I am a read-a-holic. There. I've said it. I have no control over my reading! When I get engrossed in a book time means nothing and family means nothing. I get sucked into an altered state of consciousness - an alternate reality. It's lights on, nobody home. "Muuum. Muuuum!" [no reply] "Hellooo! Oy!" .... "Huh?" I have no self control and no sense of self or family responsibility when it comes to the urge to keep reading. And reading. And reading. I have been known to attempt to cook a meal while reading at the same time. Hmmm.

So I know I have this inability to control myself, and so I limit my consumption of reading material - much like someone on a conscience kick resolves to limit their alcohol intake. Every now and then, though, I get hold of a good book, and watch out. Reformed a-holic on a bender. During the week I picked up the last of the latest Robin Hobb trilogy . To be honest it was a bit slow moving for the first half to two-thirds (plus it was so long since I read Book 2, I couldn't remember all the plot so far), so for a few days there it was easy enough to pick up and put down and still function fairly normally.

Not so the last third; I thought I'd read for, say, half an hour when I got into bed last night. Late as that was at after midnight (which happens when you are already mucking around with your sleep patterns by doing lots of late nights midweek - for no discernible reason - then doing the 10am sleep in on Saturday morning.)

Cue here 'moron' mode- where an otherwise reasonably intelligent woman gives herself sleep deprivation. Having done the no-choice lack of sleep thing after having three babies, it's not real bright to do it to yourself deliberately, especially when you are running close to the edge psychologically.

I finished the damn thing at 4am, and then took another hour to drop off due to my brain running riot reviewing parts of the plot and the great ending, and pondering how to introduce some sort of sportsmanship award at netball next year (my god woman, let it go!), and a periodic pulse of pain emanating from my back. There is also nothing like stressing yourself out about not being able to fall asleep when you start hearing the birds twittering with the break of day.

Lucky we had nothing planned for the day, and I managed to sleep till 11.00. That still amounted to only 6 hours sleep, which for me, at the moment, is just not enough. It also doesn't leave much time on a Sunday to do anything worthwhile with the day.

Now my children have inherited my reading addiction . Sure, it makes for looking good at school (except that I refuse to keep tabs on everything they read just for the sake of turning it into a OCD list-a-thon/reward programme.) Most nights we catch at least one of the older two still reading - sometimes at midnight. Zoe will read for hours on end, sometimes walking home from the bus stop and in the front door with her nose in a book. (Lucky she has no major roads to cross.) We hear stuff about how children and teenagers are not getting enough sleep to function properly during the day... and here are my children inheriting this insidious addiction. From me.

I know many of you will tell me it's all harmless, and that the benefits outweigh the ill-effects. I'm just not so sure anymore, because I can't seem to control it. Given I can't manage myself with my computer use.. and I find it hard to not have a 'drink' every night..and drink way too much instant coffee in a day, I probably do have a mild addictive personality. Who would have thought I would seriously have to include such a wholesome pursuit as reading as one of its manifestations.

Labels: introspection

That's the forecast for the rest of the week. And today was also Windy with showers. It was actually colder during the day than it was during last night! Go figure.

So winter isn't done with us yet. And stupid me didn't Seize the Day yesterday. Yesterday with its balmy spring weather of 26 degrees! Bewdiful weather! OK, a couple of loads of washing on the line. That's it. Shoulda, shoulda, shoulda gone for a ride. Didn't.

Today was your classic miserable, rainy, windy wintery day. So I did your classic, miserable, rainy wintery day thing, and sat inside and watched videos all day. Episode after episode of House. (Which doesn't make you laugh out loud, but you do the odd smirk.)

How lazy is that. Statement.

One of the things that I know improves my state of mind is exercise, so it is pretty bloody stupid when I don't get out there and do any. My only excuse this week, other than sheer lethargy, is that my lower back is a bit niggly still; the perfect excuse for a housework procrastinator. Over the weekend I took Voltaren, which was bloody brilliant. I did my swimming on Friday night, and we rode 50 odd km on Saturday morning, and it didn't hurt. I suppose I could have taken one today so I could vacuum, but funnily enough the drive to do that just wasn't there. I can't decide whether I should rest it till it gets better, or to soldier on through it. It's not bad, but it's just there. Pinched nerve sort of thing, rather than muscular. Frustrating. So I don't know whether to go to the weights class tomorrow or not. It's indoor, and it's exercise. But it's what aggravated my back last week. Bleh.

One of the other things that seems to have improved my state of mind of late is the Evening Primrose Oil capsules. And I've just realised I've been forgetting to take them for a few days now. Perhaps I should take some advice from last post's comments and start getting some Omega-3 into myself as well. It's supposed to help brain function isn't it? - perhaps that is what I need, because lately I just can't focus. I should just cook some damned salmon, but when you have one family member that doesn't eat fish (Caitlin) and another that isn't keen on tinned fish (Marc), it's not a meal ingredient that gets served up much, because I'm damned if I'm going to cook more than one meal per night for the family.

How lazy is that.

Yeah, so it's raining again.

Labels: daily, introspection, weather

To be completely honest, I'm wallowing. And no, it's not a good look, but I'm in a phase where I just can't quite locate my 'happy place'. I am living one of those frustrating dreams where you can't quite make things happen the way you want them to. Just 'frustrating dream' status, rather than 'nightmare', so I should be quite thankful really. But I'm not in a happy place.

I'm mostly unhappy because Marc is away for work all this week. He left early this morning for Perth. Across the other side of the country - so it may as well be the other side of the world. Back Sunday - so that messes with the weekend, and it's the weekend toll that has taken its... toll... over the years. Over the 10 bloody years he's been working in this damn job, I hate to think of how many weekends have been 'stolen' from our family life.

After our crisis in March, and the ultimatum put to his work about having to stop the away work, or leave, he has been home most weekends (all bar one I think) and what a difference that has made. But there you go: "All bar one". There has had to be compromise - a midweek trip back to KL, and a 'one week trip' back to KL. I ran with these because even I realise it is pretty hard to pull out in the middle of a humungous project, and I am such an understanding, wonderful wife that he is lucky to have even though he lost sight of that there at one point. There have also been a couple of other mid-week jobs which involved being away - but midweek stuff I can cope with; the type of job it is means it is impossible not to travel to various jobs.

But this week is another compromise; someone else's project, and the other person who could do it is on 5 weeks annual leave and I'm pissed off and angry about having to compromise, because I feel like I'm being played for a fool. I made some ultimatums, because I damn well had a right to make ultimatums. But like WorkChoices, my 'fought for' rights are insidiously being whittled away...

Yes, it has been better. [Who am I kidding? - It has been fantastic.] And the thing is, I like it like this. Having hubby... Daddy... around... is normal. It's what normal people do. You get to do things together on the weekend.. even if it is just slothing around on a Sunday (which I think is ok if you've got up at 5 am to go ride your tandem together on a Saturday morning, and then spent the rest of that day with the girls' netball.)

Sometimes, now that the girls are old enough to be at home without us, we can do stuff like we did yesterday. We left them and went into the shops, because he needed my physical presence/moral support while he shopped for some jeans and a shirt. And so then, that achieved, we sat down in a cafe and had lunch. Out. Very nice.

Meh, so what right do I have to complain? My life has been, and still is, too easy in many ways. I haven't had to work. I haven't had to worry about money. Single parents do it waaaaay tougher. Most average families do it tougher - financially at least. Still, I'd recommend it to noone - not that many days, nights, weekends of the Daddy being away. Basically raising the kids (the eldest was 4, and the youngest not even born when all this away stuff started) half the time by yourself, but then having to switch back to 'normal' family mode when he gets home.

I always maintained that while he worked away, I was damned if I was going to try and juggle a job as well. He used to hassle me occasionally about getting a job (partly because he understood that my self-esteem actually needs a job; partly because I think he has found it a strain being the breadwinner.) He only admitted in March that it would have been too stressful for me to have been working all this time. (Logic tells you that he would have had to have taken on some of the home-load.)

But as the 'stay at home parent', anything that the kids don't do that you expect they should (or that he expects they should) you blame yourself for. Because you're the one with the frontline job of handling all that, and any failure feels like a failure on your part. Throw into that mix me being the crappiest housekeeper in the world, and I keep seeing "F" on my report card, rather than all the Distinctions and Credits - because people do commend our children for being 'lovely kids'. (And smart. And good at sport. And good friends. Etc etc.)

I just keep seeing the negatives. I see myself as being a failure, because I don't work, and what's more, I don't have a clue what I could do for work. (To fit in with 'being there' for the kids the way I want to be.) Look at all those mothers who are working AND their kids are nice kids, doing well at school, etc, etc!! And, yes, I hate the fact that I don't bring any money into the house. Big F for Failure.

I try my hand at volunteer work, with the school.. with the netball... and then I get the shits with it (usually one or two people start getting right up my nose), so then I pull this avoidance stunt with it, as I did over this weekend. On Saturday I refused to go into the netball clubhouse as I've felt obliged to do all year because I am secretary. I sat on my arse in a chair on the sidelines, and watched both girls play their grand final games. And I felt guilty. And then I didn't go to the senior presentation dinner.

And, then... the most trivial issues with the kids make me feel like I am failing them with the basics - and if I can't get the basics right, how am I going to handle any Serious Stuff that comes along down the track? The eldest yesterday, when charged with hanging the load of washing in the machine on the line when it finished, hung them out dripping (which I only discovered at 5pm when I went to get them in). Because, patently, I wrongly expected that by 14 years old she'd have absorbed, somewhere along the line, that washing, when the machine has finished is not dripping wet. Because it spins the water out. And she has hung out washing before this. And that lately I've had to keep going in to rebalance the load because there is something wrong with the balance mechanism on the washing machine. The machine goes *bang, bang, bang* and stops. Then beeps. And I curse, and I go in and shift clothes around, and start it again. And sometimes repeat that till it works. And I haven't actually stood her there and given her a lesson in getting clothes out of the washing machine, because I had credited her with more common sense than she evidently has. (And an ability to ring me up on the phone and ask what to do if she isn't sure.)

[And it's pretty hard for me to be teaching them any household domestics, because I am a really, really bad role model in that respect.]

And, the 12 year old has been mutilating herself, and I have been oblivious to it. We thought she was biting her fingernails.. have lectured and warned her about it... and finally this week I bought some of that foul tasting stuff to put on her nails. Then yesterday she stubbed her big toe, and we realised that she has somehow been mutilating her toenails... she has cut/ripped them back so far, that the surrounding skin on each toe is peeling, and on her big toe, with so much skin exposed, it is more vulnerable to stubbing. She can't explain what in god's name possessed her to do this, nor how exactly she did it. She used scissors, "once".. "about two weeks ago"... but wtf?!! I am freaked out that she must have some underlying psychological problem that is causing her to do this, and I don't know what the hell to do about it.

And now he's gone away for a week, which makes it hard to do the shared parenting thing- particularly over this trivial stuff.

So the way I handle it is to rebel with the household domestics (who has the psychological problem do you think?)... and wallow.

Perhaps now I've unloaded this piffle I can get up off my bum and get through the week with a more appropriate outlook. Any kicks up the backside as long as they are gentle, will be gratefully received and taken on board.

Labels: introspection, parenting

In my constant drive to be "me" - and to be true to "me" - whoever and whatever that is (I'm still trying to figure it out) - I'm not sure if sometimes I don't go just a little bit overboard. I'm not sure if I'm rebelling against those college years when I desperately tried to fit in (and failed.) But even after I'd discovered there was more to life than getting drunk and going 'woo hoo, party, party', I still used to at least be capable of putting on a skirt and a bit of make up and going out for dinner with a group of people.

Now I even eschew the makeup, and dread having to get dressed up to go out. (Doesn't help that with my dodgy feet, I can't even wear heels.)

Yesterday at tennis one of my teammates started talking about the idea of going away on a 'girls' weekend. It started as an end of season idea, with yesterday being our last game for the year. They started talking about the idea of going to Brisbane to 'a show'.

I didn't contribute to the conversation, but then, after the others were coming over all enthusiastic about it, she asked me directly if I'd be in that.

"Um. Not really." That was what came out. And it sounded so rude, but it's the truth, because it really isn't something I'd enjoy. I never really ever got into the 'girls night out' scene. Never been very typical, really. Never had the group of 'girlfriends', and just never ever did the night out, nightclub scene, with the alcohol-fueled sillies. And certainly no dancing. I loathe that sort of dancing - I am just too self-conscious.

While I don't mind the company of some of these women, I don't really feel like spending 4 hours drive each way in a car with them, then all the rest of the palava. (Plus there is one that I quite honestly have to admit I have come to dislike.) I've done the 'solo weekend escape' to Brisbane before; meeting up with a bunch of people I'd 'met' on an internet bulletin board, and I had to admit to myself that I actually didn't much enjoy being away from my family for that long after all. So I'm not in a hurry to do it again.

Lately, though, I find myself dreading even an average night out. This Saturday I'm expected to go to the Senior presentation night for the netball - because I was on the committee. I really really don't want to go. I'm dreading it, but god, what sort of boring-ass homebody am I?

I question myself constantly over it. Why don't I like to be like 'most women'? Does that make me boring? Or just different? Am I going overboard (and turning into my mother - my Dad thinks she is anti-social - and god help me, I don't want to turn into my mother)? Or am I just standing up for who I am, for what I do and don't enjoy doing, and being strong enough not to just follow the crowd?

It's not like I'm avoiding any and all social contact - I'm all keen to be back on the bike again tomorrow morning and enjoying the breakfast chit-chat after the community ride. So I'm not a total hermit. Seriously!

Back to my bluntness, I couldn't, at the time, think of any way to make my blunt 'no thanks' sound less rude. I heard the one that I'm not that keen on say half under her breath "okaaaaay".... and I knew that anything I added was just going to sound trite, so I just shut my mouth and said nothing more, before I dug myself more of a hole.

I have pledged to 'hang' with the girl that issued the 'invitation' this Saturday night, so I might just have to try to find a serious moment to apologise for being me.

Labels: introspection

A bit of night sky distraction tonight with the lunar eclipse tonight. The last one for us was in 2000, so I'd kind of forgotten what they were all about, although I do recall huddling on our back verandah with the two older girls, who were then both younger than #3 is now. It was a bit later in the evening that time - I have vague memories of waking them up (the older two) so they could see it. Tonight's moon show was a more child-friendly affair - around dinner time - with 'totality' at 8.37pm, so we've been in and out - on every level of the house - numerous times to check on it. We have a perfect view up into the eastern sky, so it's been quite 'specky'.

It was also quite a timely distraction from me continuing on doing my lolly at eldest daughter for being a lazy sod who sits on her arse at the computer, conveniently putting off helping with dinner, and then coming up with all sorts of excuses that involve blaming her sisters for not calling her, or similar. So I have decreed that she be responsible for dinner this Thursday. (And #2 will do it one night next week.) She is complaining of course that she doesn't know how to cook a whole meal - but patently my M.O. so far of getting them to assist here and there with meal preparations has done nothing to teach her how to get a whole meal on the table. I figure I need to throw her in the deep end - and then sit back and watch her swim like buggery. (To coin an Aussie phrase.) Recipe reading time, kiddo. It's going to be interesting.

I am feeling very slightly better this evening, after waking up coughing, and feeling pretty ordinary most of the day. Just experimenting with some added extras just for good measure - like a sort of blocked ear. Marc suggested I go see the dr (for antibiotics), but the memory of getting thrush as a result of the antibiotics I had to take in December is still too fresh. I don't think I could handle that right now on top of the past few days. I haven't been in a particularly good mood all day - vacillating between a mopey sad sack, and a cranky pants. A psychologist would probably have a field day with me right now. I hope it is just the unwellness combined with lack of exercise - and I hope I feel better enough tomorrow to get moving again. I'm starting to realise that me minus endorphins is not a good thing.

Labels: daily, introspection, parenting

That line from some cleaning product commercial has been haunting me all day. (I can't find it online - but the gist is that this woman with a new baby gets unexpected visitors, and one asks to use the bathroom before she is even in the front door - but of course her bathroom passes the stickybeak test because she uses *some* brand of cleaner.) The shame of it is that I had a few hours notice of a friend calling in, and yet I still didn't manage to deal with the state of my bathroom. This is what happens when you leave the kitchen in such a mess that it takes an hour or so to get on top of the washing up that's been left 'till tomorrow' and to sweep the floor and chuck a heap of stuff (sportsbags, shopping bags, etc etc) out of sight into the Cupboard Under The Stairs.

So the answer isn't a positive one; the only good thing was that I had managed to flush it after my dear children couldn't manage to. Yet again. [Sheesh! - but that is the topic for another blog time and blog whinge!] The toilet was big-time due for a clean, as was the vanity. The bath which never gets used is full of dust and stuff, as are the corners of the room overdue for a vacuum. The friend didn't stay long, but needed to use the loo. Oh dear. Sprung.

I have very bad priorities when it comes to my domesticity. It says a lot about my current 'social' life, where I don't tend to invite people around because I am ashamed of my house. But here I am, sitting here, blogging about my dirty house and how pathetic I am - instead of getting off my bum and cleaning it. I am a bad, bad housewife.

Mind you, I am not overly obsessive about the hygiene/cleanliness thing for more than just laziness. I don't like using a lot of chemicals because I don't think they are good for us or the environment, and I don't go overboard on the anti-bacterial products because I believe their overuse is contributing to the building up of resistance of bacteria, and a general decline in antibodies. So my loo will never be blue. I would just like to find myself a slightly more ... acceptable... status quo.

At least, right now, my kitchen is more presentable than usual - and I can even see more bench than usual. I am psyching up for another new battle to keep that clear. This battle is one that consumes much of my energy; perhaps if I could win the bench war, I'd have more time to think about other parts of this wretched house.


On the exercise front, not much has gone according to plan this week. I had intended to ride my bike on Tuesday, but had to call a raincheck on that due to my knee. Yesterday, buoyed from a successful massage, and no more knee pain, I was in the car and headed to the personal trainer/weights class where I intended to concentrate on upper body, when I got a call from the school - my youngest had a tummy ache. Bye bye weights class. ( I detoured into the school, picked her up and took her home. She was in quite a state, but after a some panadol and a sleep she felt ok...)

I was supposed to have tennis today, but that got called off last night - the other team forfeiting due to illness. Not such a bad thing as it turns out, as Zoe got the tummy ache a bit again in the middle of the night, and joined me in bed. (Lucky the Daddy was away, so there was plenty of room for her to slide in and for us both to sleep.) In the morning she had a bit of a temp, so, no school for her today, leaving me just thankful I don't have to juggle work commitments and unwell children.

But it has all meant no exercise for this self-confessed exercise junkie wannabe. Tomorrow. Something. I hope. Depends on the kid. Meanwhile I suppose I could be using the time to clean that bloody bathroom - amongst all the other household delights that need to be dealt with.

See ya.

Labels: housework, introspection

Oh cripes, I'm becoming "high maintenance". Not in the usual sense of the word- nothing could be further from the truth in that regard! I'm not the fancy sports car - I'm the 20 year old family car that is starting to need more and more ongoing maintenance and repairs just to keep it on the road.


There was the unscheduled chiropractor visit on Monday ($45 thanks), and I've just got back from a massage. I think of it as pretty high self-indulgence thing to be doing - I mean, how pretentious does it sound to say 'I'm booked in for a massage." My 'masseur' tells me it's important body maintenance, so I am trying to believe her!

Today she focused on the muscles above and below my sore knee today, and.. wow.... I had no idea my quadriceps were so tight! Yeeow! It seems to have helped my knee, although it also felt better on Monday after the chiropractor and a dose of Voltaren, but then got worse again yesterday after not bike riding and sitting in a car driving for a total of half an hour. Go figure. Bloody thing.

"Do you stretch regularly?" she asked. ... Hmmm, um.... well..... I'm not very good at doing self directed stuff at home. Like I should be doing push-ups, and abs.. and I don't seem to get round to it...

"Have you tried yoga? - that's really great for flexibility..." ... Hmm, no, it's never really appealed, besides which, I don't think I could fit anything else in!!

She considers me a 'problem child'... and always goes over time with me... It's supposed to be a one hour massage - for $35 (which is cheap anyway). This morning's appointment was at 9.00, and she finished with me at 10 to 11! I wanted to pay her more but she wouldn't hear of it.

I probably should be doing more in the way of self-maintenance, given my body's propensity for all these annoying "niggles". Possibly what I'm doing is trying to run my body full tilt, without stopping to do a grease and oil change, and all the other maintenance type things you do on a car that I can't think of because we... I... don't tend to nurture our cars very well either...

I've booked in again for 2 weeks time; I figure I might need a massage after riding 100 miles on Sunday week.

So - I've paid for an extra chiropractor consultation this week - and off I go to this personal trainer weights session this afternoon. ($15 if it's shared - $30 if it's not.). Tennis tomorrow. Swimming squad on Friday afternoon. (Then the bike riding on the weekend.) I do feel like this very spoiled high maintenance non-working wife, with the only plus being that I know my husband would prefer me to spend the money on this sort of stuff as opposed to jewellery, makeup, and regular hairdressing sessions - none of which would help me ride 100 miles with him on a tandem.

I guess, in the scheme of things, this old jalopy probably isn't doing so bad, and I should be thankful. No parts need replacing. Yet. And mostly everything works. I'm just going to have to accept that as I get older, more fine-tuning and adjustments are going to have to be paid for to keep me on the road.

I'm not quite ready for the scrap heap.

Labels: daily, introspection

Airports make me cry.

This morning I put Ms 11 (& 11/12s) on a plane without me! A simple one hour flight to Sydney, where she will be met by her grandparents, who will take her to the Opera House where she is playing recorder tonight in a public schools concert. (Pretty exciting stuff!) They'll take her there for for the rehearsal at 12.00 (after making sure she is fed and watered), meet her again at 3.00, entertain her for a few hours, buy her food, then take her back again for the concert at 6.15. (Which of course they'll watch.) A night train trip back to their place to stay the night. A sleep in, and then the trip to the airport to come home. She'll be spoilt like nothing else - one on one attention from Grandma doesn't happen much when you live 600km away, and normally share the grandparents' attention with two sisters (and two cousins who live nearby.)

I'm feeling just a twinge of regret that I won't be sharing in the whole experience - concert plus plane trip. At the time I had to organise for her to get there, I had no idea whether Marc would be home, so there was the mere matter of two other children to be looking after at home. Also at some point I had to weigh up the expense of 2 plane fares, particularly with the amount of money we are spending on both her and the eldest with their big rep netball comp coming up.

I had booked her as an unaccompanied minor, signing my life away, with passwords and forms in quadruplicate to fill in at either end. But when we asked for a seat allocation with a schoolmate and her mother who it turned out were going on the same flight, they waived the whole 'unaccompanied minor' palava, and she strolled nonchalantly across the tarmac and on to the plane with them as if she did this sort of thing every other week! (Much like the way her Dad tends to behave with his overseas trips - leaving me to be the emotional wreck.)

And so I got all teared up as I watched her plane take off.

[I'm ok now, it didn't last long.. I was in contact with Mum a mere hour and a bit later; the plane got there of course: "special package received in good order and now in safe hands".]

For as long as I can remember airports have given me goosebumps.. Leaving yourself, or farewelling someone - I guess it's all tied up with the emotions of being apart from loved ones... and also some minor itsy bitsy teeny wheeny fear of flying thing. Probably flying out myself at age 17 for a year as an exchange student in Indonesia has embedded itself emotionally in my subconcious, as have the many times I've farewelled my husband on overseas work trips over the past 10 years. (The one where he went for 3 months has undoubtably scarred me for life! - my how I blubbered at the airport ... No Stoic Mum for the sake of the children that day...)

There was also another flight I took just about 10 years ago when I left my then 4 and 2 year olds with their grandparents, while Marc continued to work on our house, and I flew from Sydney to here (for a week) to start looking for rental properties, as we were about to move here. I have never felt so fragile and vulnerable as we took off. I'd just lost a baby halfway during a pregnancy, and that experience had made me realise that 'shit' can happen to anybody - even me! I was sure the plane was going to crash on take off or landing; the indentation of my fingers is probably still in the armrest, and I felt so alone without my babies or my husband.

So! Back to the airport tomorrow afternoon to pick her up! I think, given the short duration, that I will be less teary when I'm on the receiving end of my precious cargo. Though you never know. Airports just have this tendency to make me cry.

Labels: awwww, daily, introspection

Northern Girl tagged me for a meme...So only because it's an easy one. And only because being tagged makes me feel so Special.

“Recycle a post that helps to sum up you and your history for a first-time reader.”

I link to this post on my sidebar - 'The Full Catastrophe.'

I've edited it once since I first posted it, and it summarises a bit about me.

This one sums me up more specifically... and that's probably all you'd ever care to know about me.. This year there have been some developments...improvements even. A bit of a marriage "crisis" led to my husband not working away so much. A silver lining.. a blessing in disguise.. if you wish. And I have made progress in the fitness area. Shows that change is possible. I've still to work on the domesticity and job issues, but I suppose that goes to show that anything is possible.

Oh yeah.. you're supposed to tag people with memes, but being a bit of a rebel, I won't. As usual... if you want to do this, consider yourself tagged.

Labels: introspection, meme

Not prone to soppiness, I think I can tend to do too much whingeing about my kids on here, when in reality of course I love them to bits. They do so much that I am proud of - I just try to avoid bragging too much!! They can also do some bloody frustrating things at times, but they wouldn't be children if they didn't. Would they?

One of the things I enjoy about them as they get older is that they are each developing a pretty good sense of humour. They are really getting into that good ole bag-each-other-out kind of family banter... some of which is the PJ (private joke) type that only the family 'gets', with quotable quotes that will be forevermore trotted out for family recollection and enjoyment. Marc and I are also fair game... I blame him for the 'stirrer' genes and the role model that he presents in that regards. It is a fine line to tread between cheekiness and humour, but I wouldn't give up the moments of shared family hilarity for quids. (Plus, I figure, it isn't a bad thing to show them how to laugh at yourself.)

The older two are getting a bit bold in their old age, with the development of a quick wit and a good memory for lines and quotes. (Honed just a bit by their appreciation of excellent Aussie satire like The Chaser, and shows with humorous scriptwriting like the new Dr Who, and even Pirates of the Caribbean.) They do delight in recounting silly things I might have done (sometimes played out to dramatic effect.) Anytime they do that, I am, however, guaranteed a hug from Zoe, who will come running from anywhere just to 'protect her mummy'. The other two will sometimes tease me on purpose, just to get that reaction from Zoe, I think because they enjoy seeing me getting half-strangled! (I kind of hope she never grows out of the cuddliness though!)

Marc now can't get away with a *wink* whenever he stirs one of them. (Or me for that matter.) Doesn't matter who, the response from any of the three will be 'Is there something wrong with your eye, Dad?' Noone in the family can get away with any eyerolling behind anyone's back either, because the standard line is "What's on the ceiling?" Doesn't matter what current allegiances there are in the family "dynamics", even if you're in the middle of an argument with the 'target' of the eyerolling, if you're caught doing anything with your eyes, you're dobbed in!

We do work at raising them to be true blue Aussies... which includes proper use of the Aussie vernacular. A new family quote has now been immortalised: Zoe came downstairs the other night in a right old state.

"It's no bloody use!" she exclaimed.

Us: Huh? What? (while we totally cracked up at her experimentation in using the term 'bloody'. It was spot on, very Aussie, but not quite what you expect from your angelic 8 year old.)

"'Cos noone uses the lid!"

She had gone to clean her teeth before bed, and discovered a tiny bug in the container they use for their electric toothbrush heads. (The lid is supposed to go on container overnight because of the unfortunate presence overnight- in this area during the warmer months - of cockroaches, who it seems have a penchant for toothpaste)

Ali, Cait and I were so busy laughing about her choice of expletive, it was left to Dad to try to deal patiently and seriously with the situation.

"Why did the bug go in the container?" he started to ask, in terms of finding out just who had cleaned their teeth last, and consequently left the lid off.

"To get to the other side" I suggested from the other side of the room, which left Cait and Ali for some reason nearly wetting their pants (and so I joined in, and we had a threesome laugh-fest at Zoe's expense.)

Turns out she had been the last of the kids to leave the house that day, so in fact it was her fault the lid was off.
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Oh well, guess you had to be there .. and be one of us....

Labels: introspection, parenting

Part of being a parent is teaching your kids how to put things in perspective. Sure, something might 'suck' or hurt.. and it's ok to have a bit of a cry... but in the scheme of things, really, it's not so bad after all. Could be worse.. plenty worse off, not worth the angst, etc etc, ra ra ra...

Sometimes it's hard to follow your own advice... and I frequently have to counsel myself into fighting my way out of some stupid emotional state where I am wallowing over inexplicable, irrational "stuff" that really isn't worth the angst. Some of it, lately, I believe I can put down to hormonal crap. Some of it is, really, just a personality flaw, in which I need to give myself a swift kick up the backside, and get on with things.

Sometimes I use this blog to get stuff off my chest. As brissiemum suggested in the comments of the previous post, it's cheaper than therapy. Even if it's as boring as bat shit for anyone reading it. I apologise in advance of the following drivel.

Two days ago I got a letter in the mail from the Cancer Council, inviting me to participate in some pap smear register and ongoing study/survey thingy. My name had been selected from a list of recent pap smears.. ra, ra, ra.... Did I think logically about this? Nup. Instead I realised I that suddenly, after a month that had been miraculously free of any PMS type emotions, I had this sudden anxiety and urge to cry welling up inside me - and it was all since I'd opened the letter. I'm due to see my gyno on Thursday to go over the results from the pap smear and biopsy taken a month ago. Logic would tell me that if there had been anything untoward she would have rung me. Logic would tell me I should just wait and chat to her on Thursday. Logic would tell me that sampling for these sort of surveys need to take random samples. Logical husband would have told me all that if I'd talked to him first, but Tracey's irrational inner voice suggested that maybe she was selected because of some abnormal result that she hadn't heard about yet.. so after an hour of feeling this insane urge to cry, she rang the gyno's rooms. Wonderful gyno rang back to reassure me that all was fine (results have only indicated low estrogen levels, so we'll discuss that on Thursday). But! What a wally I am! Much ado about nothing... and whatever happened to logic? (Possibly some of the irrational anxiety is from knowing of others who have been diagnosed with cervical cancer, and so I do suspect that some of my emotion stems from feeling and caring for them, no matter that I don't know them in person...)

Yesterday's school newsletter featured an anonymous 'letter to all other parents':

"After doing readers on Monday, it came to my attention that there was only one volunteer doing the cooking for all the canteen specials (xxxx again). This problem is also occurring when it comes to all areas of parents volunteering at their children's school, so please, as one parent to another, even if you can only spare a short period of your time at any one of the many areas looking for assistance it would obviously be appreciated."

A concerned parent.

I have been in a knot over this since reading it, basically because at one time I put in quite a lot of work at the canteen, only to be verbally attacked over some issue by one of the supervisors, and then to have my contribution undermined. (If you'd 'designed' the past few menus with the previous supervisor, and then had the new supervisor do the new one (fair enough so far) but then put in the newsletter "I hope this one is easier to read"... would you be just a bit miffed? - I was.. in fact, it was the straw that broke the camel's back in terms of my involvement with the canteen. I resigned as secretary of the canteen committee (never got a thank you for the year I'd done). Some time later, the martyr (xxxx) mentioned above, along with others on the P&C compiled a fundraiser recipe book. I sent in contributions, but they were attributed to one of the other families (the P&C treasurer no less) not ours! Probably an honest mistake, but on top of the previous stuff, I was peeved.

I really feel like sending my own 'concerned parent' letter in to the principal.. but I know deep down that it really isn't worth it.. and it isn't worth the angst I am giving myself over it. There are other things being done at the school by those involved in the P&C that I don't happen to agree with, so I have basically just distanced myself from the whole place this year. And that should be ok. It doesn't stop me getting myself into a tizzy though.

So! Another case of Much Ado about Nothing. *Turns and presents backside for others to deliver swift kicks as required.*

I woke up today with a headache (of the nausea/migraine type, but thankfully not the full catastrophe migraine that many get.) I was wallowing in a puddle of self-pity there for a while.. till I read Rootietoot's post about her hip, so then I let the tears flow for her.. realising that a measly headache was stuff all compared to living day in day out with bone grinding on bone in your hip.

The headache is all but gone, finally... I was supposed to go bike riding/training with my new training mate, but it's raining, so we've called that off. I suppose I will be ok with the weights training session at 1.30... although in my post headache state, I can't see myself making the most out of it. I haven't done any exercise since Saturday, so I am wondering if the lack of those little things called endorphins are contributing to my emotional fragility today...

I am taking Caitlin in to the chiro this afternoon (for a 'realignment' after her fall on her hip the other week, and now with a sore knee). I am a bit peeved that I got this headache after my own maintenance visit to the chiro yesterday. It's not supposed to work this way! (Maybe he'll be able to check my neck out again...)

Labels: daily, introspection

... In the windmills of your mind

I nearly got taken out by some wally on a double lane roundabout the other week. I don't mind normal roundabouts.. they definitely have their uses in streamlining the traffic flow. But I really do reckon that double lane ones are a recipe for disaster. I was in the inside lane - heading straight ahead through the roundabout. This Fool in the outside lane (and with trailer), decides to turn right. In front of me. Arrrgh! *Brake hard*... *swear, curse and roll eyes....*

There's no particular reason why I'm using roundabouts as a theme today, except that when I was looking through My Pictures for inspiration, I came across these old pics I received a few years ago in one of those email fwd thingies. An analogy struck me. Far-fetched, I know, but it looks like my brain feels with approaching all the Stuff I should be doing, and particularly attacking the clean up of this house. If I came across this roundabout, I've no doubt I'd be just about paralysed with indecision... (thankfully it's in England somewhere so I'm not likely to experience it in the near future!) Unfortunately (as I continue with the analogy.. go with me on this one, at least just to humour me...) I tend to be paralysed with indecision when it comes to how to approach, and negotiate the mess that is my house... and the other bits and pieces of my life that I should be sorting out.






Those smaller circles bring to mind eddies in a river... (*and off she goes on another tangent and another whacko analogy*)... where you might get stuck going round and round, struggling to make it back into the main flow. (I have an very clear memory of doing just that in a raft once - it was both hilarious and slightly freak-outish at the same time!)

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Yup. That's my brain today. It's midday, and I haven't done anything bar start to hang out washing. It then started to rain. So I took it off again, along with the mostly dry washing I'd accidentally left out yesterday. (Oops. It probably smells of smoke from the woodfires of the wretched people around here who put the fire on to keep warm before they put a jumper on over a t-shirt... but don't start me on that particular rant right now!) And then the sun came out, while it was still raining, but now it's overcast again.

And so, with another load of washing finished as well, now I have two baskets of wet washing. It can't decide whether to rain or not, so I can't decide whether to try to hang it all out and hope. I also can't decide whether to risk the weather and just walk again. (If I do I should take my sunglasses just in case..seeing I made the sun come out yesterday.)

Or maybe I should actually do something useful and domestic, like vacuuming.

I did impress with my sorting of the washing yesterday. You can see our bedroom floor again now! AND I ironed stuff, including Marc's work shirt and the girls' school uniforms, so I didn't have to do it this morning! Woo hoo, big deal, you say. Indeed. But this, folks, for me, sadly enough, is progress.

Yes, perhaps today it is time to reacquaint myself with the vacuum cleaner, however, I guarantee I will end up frustrated because everybody in this damned house leaves STUFF lying around everywhere.... and so I will have to stop and move it, and I will feel like I am stuck within a roundabout in one of those 'eddies', struggling to get to where I am trying to go.

(Actually, right now, I'm pulled up at the sign, thinking, wtf?!! what do I do?.. how do I get through this?)

Labels: daily, introspection

.. I can then focus mine energies on attacking the house. That's the plan anyway, although I will probably arrive back here moaning and wringing my hands and complaining that I don't know where to start on this diabolical mess.

I wonder if I have a problem.

Wonder?! I know I have a problem with this computer addiction thing. Once it was a bulletin board. Now it's blogs and blogging. Probably if it wasn't that it'd be something else.. but ... seriously... the amount of time I spend on here is really over the top. And the house has never been so bad.

So I need to approach today with some discipline. A good starting point for how I mean to continue. Sounds like a plan doesn't it?

I have also checked the tide times, and late morning will be an ideal time to walk up the beach. I haven't done any of my walking for a while. I think it's time to get that back on the agenda, at least one day a week. I'm doing fair bit of exercise I know. Relatively speaking. But it's not every day - and those couple of Days of Sloth per week are not helping me work off what I put in my mouth! And as I am loathe to give up everything yummy and 'medicinal' (read: glass of wine or two), then I have no choice but to *up* the kilojoule burning activity - on a daily basis. (While the weights class helps tone, it doesn't really burn calories... even if it gets the endorphins dancing a bit). I am also a bad, bad girl because I just somehow don't seem to get around to doing my 'homework'.. push ups, abs... even lunges... I could double my improvement rate if I just disciplined myself a little bit more.


Maybe just after one more coffee....?!

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Ed: 5 mins later: It's raining! So much for the walking. No.. I don't feel like getting wet when it's "only" 18 degrees. Guess I'll have to work up a sweat with the cleaning. Though as I type the sun is shining through. Think it's going to be one of those sort of days!

************
Well, that's one way to make the weather clear up. After a few showers of rain decide you should take the risk on the weather; stride purposefully out of the house wearing tracksuit pants and a bike rainjacket, which you have to remove and tie round your waist within 100m of home. No sunglasses, no hat. It's guaranteed to turn sunny and warm enough that you wished you'd gone in shorts and a sleeveless top AND of course the sunnies.

At least I walked, even if I'm drawn back to the computer like a moth to a flame. I've sorted clothes, cleaned the iron plate, and ironed a few teatowels. And that's about it. Not much in the way of achievement is it... I suppose I have another hour till the kids get home and the taxi run starts.

Labels: clean ups, daily, endorphins, introspection

We are coming home from tennis, and the conversation turns to what we'll do when we get home.

Me? Yeah, well, I'll check my email.. and read a few blogs, and... that'll probably get me through to when the kids get home. (Heck, I've just played four sets of tennis! Even if they weren't particularly high powered. (We won! I won 3 sets - don't know how - the ones I won we won easily.. then the wheels fell off, I played crap, and we lost 6-1.) I'll have a coffee and a sit down, and....

The friend? She was going to do the ironing!

Can you spot the difference?

So then we got to talking (AGAIN! - why do I do it to myself?) about ironing, and cleaning in general. I don't think I will ever find the bottom of the ironing pile. I swore it was genetic; my mum always had a never-ending ironing pile. And at 44, I figure I'm unlikely to change now. She said she had vowed not to have an ironing pile like her mother. So there goes the 'endogenous' excuse.

There is no doubt she multi-tasks better than me. She will talk on the phone and do the ironing at the same time. Or wash up, or whatever. I don't like getting a cricked neck, so I don't choose to do that... and, while I prefer email and the internet, I've yet to figure out how to iron and blog at the same time!

<-- <-- Perhaps I should look into taking up Extreme Ironing!

We then talked about storage and general organisation. She said she wasn't really a cleaning freak, like I seemed to think she was. (Just every time I talk to her she has done, is doing, or is about to do, some domestic chore!)

So I guess if she's middle of the spectrum, that puts me way down one end. Which I knew. And while I'd like to slide back up the scale just a leetle bit, I don't know that there's a lot of hope. So my house is a mess, and not that clean, but the kids don't have allergies or illnesses, they're smart, they do well at school and they go out in clean, ironed clothes - I do iron but I tend to do it as needed. They are fit, healthy, good at sport.... even if it is sometimes hard to spot the floor of their bedrooms.

And I know what a blog is! And I wouldn't 'know' all you wonderful people out there if I came home from [*insert activity of the day*] and didn't have some 'downtime' while feeding my intellect (and soul) by reading and discovering all these wonderful blogs from all around the world.

So even if I'm way down that other end of the domestic spectrum, it doesn't mean I'm hopeless, does it? I'm just... different.

Vive les différences!!

[Perhaps as a concession I could now get up, walk over to the kitchen, empty the dishwasher, wash up the 'extra' stuff from last night, and come up with some inspiration as to what to pick up for dinner!]

Labels: daily, introspection

I'm in a mess. My house is in a mess. My head is in a mess. The latter probably explains the former. Or the former the latter, I don't know. Which came first - the chicken or the egg?

When I set foot in the girls' bedrooms just now, to empty their wastepaper bins, and to strip the beds, my head went into a spin and I felt like crying. Diabolical mess. Dirty clothes, clean clothes. All in heaps, mixed up with toys and books. I keep promising myself I am going to have a blitz, but it is such a task, I keep putting it off. Partly because I know it will just get trashed again pretty soon. Plus me cleaning it up once in a blue moon doesn't change anything - they take mess over the edge, and I can't seem to rein them in. I know that they are bad because I am no role model in the tidy house stakes, but really... I don't leave my wet towel on the bedroom floor, and I don't leave my dirty clothes all over my bedroom floor either!! So what the hell is it with them?

Part of the problem is that two of them are sharing, and there is not enough wardrobe space or shelving. Enter the 'extension' plans, which have come to a grinding halt since before Christmas. I know that I am the one that needs to get them on the agenda again, but getting him to focus on that of an evening or weekend amongst all the other madness will not be easy.

My head can't decide how to prioritise things - on a daily level, and on a bigger picture level.

I am doing a blog because I want to practise writing, but even I can see that I am incapable of precise, clear prose. Brevity? What's that? Rather, the mess just pours from my brain, into long, scrambled essays of inane drivel. Every time I blog I feel guilty because I am not doing something more worthy of my time, yet I am driven to write.

I was reminded last night that there is another netball committee meeting on next Monday night, which means I need to do the minutes. Already? Sheesh. There's more time to be spent on the computer, when I actually could be doing something else more important, or worthy... you know, like cleaning.. or exercising... or doing something about the house plans... (or blogging of course.)

Yesterday I didn't get out on the bike or do anything active. So I felt bad. Yet when I do, particularly during the day, I feel guilty for swanning around. "What have you got on today?" he asked this morning. "Oh, my weights training class this afternoon." Nice for some, huh. Tomorrow I play tennis all day (and thus can't make it to watch my daughter play recorder in a concert for Education Week. Cue the SAHM *guilt*). Our team would be short if I didn't go, so you have to do what you have to do.

Today I feel sad and anxious for someone I don't even 'know'... but have actually just recently exchanged a couple of emails with about cervical 'issues'. Now I find that Schmutzie ... (she who hosts the Collection of Spectacles)... has been diagnosed with cervical cancer, which is always unfair, but particularly so when she is ten years younger than me, and yeah.. it just sucks. Be strong, Schmutzie.

One of the reasons we would be short for tennis tomorrow is that one of our team (who I haven't met yet) has just had a call back re possible skin cancer, and has to have more dug out from where a mole was removed 2 weeks ago. It always makes you feel vulnerable yourself when you hear the dreaded C word... and I am just a teeny bit anxious as I await the results of tests from my visit to the gyno; while the tests were not because of an abnormal smear or the like, there is something not quite right, which could be anything from something that can be fixed by taking progesterone, to.. well, you just don't effing know do you... My next appointment was to be for 2-3 weeks, but when I got home I realised the receptionist had made it for one month's time. I think I might go crazy if I don't hear anything in that period because the 'imagination' in my already messy head is running amok.

Last night we went to parent teacher night at the high school. As we suspected, in all subjects bar Maths, the teachers wax lyrical about her. Doing all the work (even if we don't see it), and doing it well. Organised. (huh?). Lovely girl. (*snorts*) Meticulous (what?) Helpful. (HUH?) Well, so long as she is like that at school, that's half the battle.

Hmmm, but as we feared, not so for Maths, because, as we already knew, she has an Attitude about Maths. Not handing homework in!! Scraping through tests.. Half yearly test on Thursday next week = one week for Dad to home tutor her, and to try to get her over the brick wall she has erected for herself; it would be just stupid to throw away opportunities just because she doesn't want to understand Maths. (I am thinking 'now why isn't the teacher taking some responsibility here?' but anyway...) We had an 'interesting' session with her when we got home, and laughed and shook our heads as she tried to find any way she could to blame someone or something else for being one of only a couple in the class who weren't signing off on homework. The kid is smart enough that the other subjects are not a strain at all.. and so we do worry that she won't actually know how to apply herself when she hits Year 11 and 12. Or uni if she chooses to go down that path. We *think* we have got through to her that actually working her brain for one subject - Maths- is still an easier path than most kids have who struggle with everything.

However, the home tutoring (by Dad because he is better at it) will be a nightly struggle. He is more patient than me, but by god, last night, he was getting frustrated with her, which he started taking out on me till I pointed out what was happening. He doesn't really need the brain strain on top of his long hours at work, but I'm just bloody glad he is here and not scheduled to be away for weeks.

The only thing I am top of today is dinner. I know what we are having, and have what I need in the cupboard and fridge. Given my M.O. in recent weeks, that is an achievement. One less bit of mess in my head. Till tomorrow.

Labels: daily, introspection, parenting