So this photo says a lot about me, possibly too much.
I find the older i get the more comfortable i become with being myself. I used to be the kind of person who would never admit to listening to Taylor Swift or binge watching Torchwood but now i don’t really care what you think? Does that make me a bad person?
On the weekend my new mummy friend (as in she is a new mummy but an old friend) and i headed out to Comicon in our local city and to be honest it’s quite a small affair but we had a lovely time, sat in on panels about voice actors (and saw Donatello the TMNT from a distance), watched some scrubs actors and faffed about the merchandise, it was a lush morning. Then i got to chat to her husband and hold her baby. so it got even better.
Also, the hair was a relatively spontaneous decision enacted by husband with his beard trimmers and i have received a surprising amount of compliments on it, mostly relating to something about the bravery of actually doing it but I’ll take that anyway.
Do you ever have that feeling where life is just rushing past you, like you’re standing in the middle of a crowded place and hundreds of people are running by you, but you’re just stagnant?
I was really starting to feel a bit of that this last month. I let my workload get on top of me and became stressed and anxious because of it and i don’t deal with stress like most people would, in a ‘let’s get this done!’ kind of way. I’m more of a ‘let’s let this wash over me and then i will build a burrow of blankets and avoid the world for the rest of time’ kinda gal.
I’m not a very nice person when I’m stressed, the demons in my mind come out in full force and make me jealous and insecure. We could have been friends for decades but i will have myself completely believing that you think I’m annoying and a waste of time, that you’d rather we weren’t friends. It doesn’t stop their either, my husband cops the full force and i find myself obsessing over every little comment or soft drink can on the bench. Everything becomes riddled with meaning.
I never realised how much was involved with life until this year, attempting to find ways to share myself around full time work, part time study, a marriage, a home, a family and friends is really difficult, and sometimes i need some time for me, too. Like 2 hours to sit in a little French cafe and eat a St-Honore, without a friend, or a text book. Maybe I’m just selfish. Is it selfish to say no to seeing a dear friend because at the end of the day all i want is 2 hours of quiet without doing something?
I have absolutely faith that i can do anything and everything i set my mind to. It might sound arrogant but sometimes you need to be the person who believes the best possible things about yourself, take them as a mantra and quiet that little voice in your mind that always wants you to fail.
So, you know how the other day i was cutting sick on the fact that it was 39 degrees and i was officially outraged? Well yesterday it reached 43.2 degrees. Yep, that’s 109.7 (some parts of Perth recorded 46 degrees but i prefer to believe that is an urban legend, because that is seriously whack.)
Oddly enough it almost feels cooler than 39 because you’re prepared for it, you put on your attack face and if you’ve got errands you make sure you’re home before 9am to lie under that air conditioner and waste the day away. In our little home there is a H.D.P.O.A. (Hot Day Plan Of Attack, if you will)
Step One involves moving all small animals inside the house, Guinea Pigs on dining tables and Rabbits in Toilets (luckily we have two bathrooms so no one is attempting to use this while Adelaide is in residence, though my mum was caught out one time and had to, but that’s another story…)
Step Two is moving our bed to directly under the only air conditioning unit in the house, which is far too small to cope on days like these but far superior to a ceiling fan. When you move beds things like this happen at 2:30 in the afternoon.
Step Three is George’s responsibility, he places himself on his favourite armchair directly under the air conditioning vent and pretends it’s winter.
Step Four involves many icy glasses of diet coke.
I hope you’re somewhere far cooler than here
It was 39 degrees today. THIRTY NINE or 102.2 if you deal in Fahrenheit and that my friends is HOT. The kind of hot that when I drove to the grocery store today I used the bottom of my palms to drive (you know that bit that’s all bone and not as sensitive as fingers?) all the while going “Ouch Ouch Ouch, Owie, No corners!” I ran in for diet coke and was out in a heart beat straight back to my lovely aircon.
The rest of the day was spent faffing about, trying to think of something witty to hang over our bed, doing washing, rearranging the furniture, more washing, reorganizing my closet, more washing (? how is there so much of it for two people?!) and making watermelon popsicles! (a christmas gift from my mum, if these go well i’ve a concept for some ginger ale flavoured one’s)
Suffice to say if a watermelon is coming into my house stuff is going to get messy. After the ‘Watermelon Incident’ of 2010 I’m quite wary of the stuff it gets everywhere and draws all the bugs out of their hiding places but I managed to keep it together without losing the house to the local ant population.
I even shared some with the kids, to make up for hosing them down all day, which they HATE. Tamale was by far the most excited and dribbled it all over her little chin but George even had a slice.
Adelaide was suitably unimpressed, as queens are want to be.
It was a rather non-sensey day which I’m really grateful for. Normally, I’d have myself in a panic for ‘wasting’ the day. My one day off, there are so many stores to visit and coffees to drink and friends to visit and errands to run but not today and I needed that.
I dream about babies.
Some nights it’s something as simple or as sweet as meeting my friends baby for the first time, (who isn’t due to join us for another 4 weeks) other nights it’s my nephew when he was 6 months old. Last night was the first dream I’ve had when I was aware that the baby was mine, but it kept switching from a baby to a chihuahua puppy and got very confusing.
The Internet suggests I have an untapped potential, new beginnings are on their way and that I’m experiencing pure joy. Personally, I think my subconscious is forcing me to acknowledge how madly I want a child. I refuse to allow my waking self to entertain the notion at this time so when my mind is finally permitted to wander it runs right over to babyville and sets up residence.
But I must admit, I am lying… I think about having a child/children/little family of my own at least 5 times a day. It seems whenever my mind is permitted to wander that’s where it goes. Childlessness is no simpler because it’s voluntary. The constant reminder that you’re not ready; financially, emotionally, or in your marriage for the one thing that you want, that you’re wasting time on something as futile as an education when you already know what you’ve been called to be.
My current tiny family: Ross the tattoo, George and the chickens are me!
For now I’ll try to remember that these years are the time when my marriage will be defined, when we’ll learn how to be partners. I’ll build my nest and focus my mind and trust in God’s perfect timing. (though I imagine I will need reminding often…)