Just a short note that I'll be popping out of cyberland (the WHOLE of cyberland except for email) for a couple of weeks, and that Blogarch will be resumed in April :)
The year is passing in a blur at the moment and I don't want it to get to mid year and for me to have spent all that time wearing out the keyboard on my laptop. I need to spend time wearing out the pages of a book, or doing random and radical things like taking a bath, returning phonecalls and emails (that 2008 form of communication), returning DVD's that are now 3 weeks late, GOING TO BED EARLY....that sort of stuff.
A short snippet in the meantime of my conversation with my Mr 3 this morning (after he found a whistle I bough him from the $2 shop).
C: Mummy, is this for me?
Me: Yes, it is :)
C: Who bought it?
Me: I did
C: Oh wow mummy I love it (with beaming saucer eyes). THANKYOU MUMMY!!!
Me: You're welcome C (beaming right back at him)
....quiet for a moment
Me: Yeah C?
C: I love you mummy. Very very much
Me: I love you too baby (as I dive in for the hug and smooch).
And this is why we have kids.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
This is going to be a speedy gonzales post. And it will likely have plenty of spelling mistakes (coz I'm a bit pickled). It won't be speedy gonzales coz I'm typing fast, because I can tell you I am typing really reallllly slow. My fine motor skills aren't what they could be, especially not after a few Grand Marniers. Just that I have to get my elderly ass in to bed. Even if I'm feeling quite spruiky at the mo :)
At the moment we are (very!) lucky to have an Au Pair. She is the ants pants. She is divine, beautiful with my kids, doesn't mind one iota that I do stuff and don't give her any real direction so she just continues to do amazing things as she takes care of things around me - which she does to a degree that makes me wonder whether I should trade her in for the hubby. She is THAT good. She is awesome. And she is 24. So she is clever and mature and hangs out occasionally at this secret squirrel place that no-one our age seems to know - just those clued in in her age bracket, especially the Swedish, French, English, Czech, likely gorgeous and hot lot. Of both sexes.
So a couple of us in 'my age bracket' decided to try it out and....we got taken to the secret squirrel door. They let us in! Must have been the spray tan.
Anyway, it was gorgeous.
And whilst my buddies were chit chatting at the bar, I planted myself in one of those funky chairs and listened to some hot 24 yr old belt out some lovely tunes. And I was surrounded by legs up to armpits and just a whole bunch of young adulthood. It was strikingly beautiful. Not aesthetically, although ofcourse it was that too. It was more in that whole 'damn I'm having a great time without a care in the world' kind of way. I watched and thought how nice it would be to sit there watching every night - a lovely reminder of just how wonderfully intoxicating life can be when you live it from the inside out.
Oh to be 23 again and not have a worry in the world. And to milk those legs for all they were worth.
There is beauty in the world and it's not just in the aesthetic. It's in that time where life and love and dreams and passion and invincibility all collide in to one. What a glorious glorious time.
23 was that time for me. Do you have a mesmorastic (I made that word up) age? If you could go back in time. live an age all over again???
PS One day my guess I will look back on this year and think if only I had that time again.....infact, I'm sure of it.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Tonight I'm sad.
Coz tonight I want to change me and not for the first time either.
Do you ever just wish you were not some particular way and that you were the opposite particular way instead?
Here are my list of grievances (I've left out my addiction to diet coke since that one I can't blame on the folks). What I wouldn't do to be a more punctual, well rested, up to date with all my paperwork, not wired on diet coke type of individual.
Lateness. This one isn't really an issue for me personally BUT I know it's an issue for others. So I will generally leave things til the last minute... then sweat my butt off trying not to be late, so as not to piss off completely those that actually live life at the other end of the scale - ie suffering punctuality anxiety. It's a very tough gig accommodating both ends of the spectrum. Mentally exhausting even. And besides that, the tax office, the telco company, Virgin and the SDRO arent as sympathetic to the 'I can't help it, I've been wired this way!' exclamations.
Side memory: Mr strongest school memory (other than when my parents shaved all my hair off) was when I was in Yr 1 and I would have to stand at the front of the class, bent over, as Mr Sullivan gave my bottom a good whack with that gigantic ruler every morning for being late . I loved Mr Sullivan. But that humiliation did not change that wiring in me one iota. Even as a little person.
Procrastination. This kinda ties in with the doing things last minute. And it's a bit strange because it's not so much the 'getting organised' bit. I actually quite enjoy planning to be planned. But getting to the do, by some strange stroke of genetic misfortune (yes I'm still blaming the wiring), doesn't generally occur until the moments before.
Side memory: After flaffling for 36 hours straight, at 1am on the morning on the morning of my HSC exams, I finally opened those books and got started on the studying. Even now I wonder how on earth....
Sleeping. I just can't get to it. I've whined about it. I've blogged about it. But I haven't managed to shift my clock to anywhere before midnight. I'm avoiding it right now. I want to get that old lustre back in my skin. See, I'm whining again.
Side memory: If all else fails, blame it on the folks. My parents never gave me a bedtime. Their motto was I would fall asleep when I needed to. Every night. So I still wait for that magical moment. Every night.
So now I have enough bills/taxes/forms/diary detail etc to bring tears to the eyes, and yet I only manage to get to them at 11.59pm in order to avoid going to sleep. And then the sadness of it all makes me open up my blog and post about it - because there is no hotline for this stuff - leaving those awful sheets of paper with 'Dovic' posted all over them, and worn out from handling, left un-done for another night.
Heeeeeellllp. I want to be rewired. And I want it now.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Wow. It's been busy in here! All those re-entries put a lovely smile on my dial and I thank you. I've been a bit MIA but a bit more on that later.
For regular readers, the 7 day challenge was indeed a great success (much to R's infinate delight and chuffedness and chest pumping) and the love has continued to flow over in to March. Noice. Haven't managed to get him to agree to telling his side of the story (probably hard for him to talk with all that grinning going on) but I'm still working on him.
The other point I have to make about March is that I've renamed it. It's Blogarch. Yes, it's the time I take to regroup, rehash and redeliver this thing that started off as fun and has since lead me towards many 'too late' nights. Not because I'm blogging (yes I know *shakes head in shame*) but because the whole problem with blogging is that you get caught up discovering other peoples blogs. Some are bloody funny. Some don't go anywhere. Plenty track journeys that amaze, delight or have you reaching for tissues and clutching at your heart as you realise how big and wide the whole world is and how much we still manage to hurt and love in much the same ways. For some, pain digs deeper and wounds are heavier. Then you discover the others, the creative types that colour your cyber world in ways your inner world never will be (unless, you buy something from them which I inevitably do - problem solved :). Hello Retro Mummy!).
So Blogarch is about two things. One is that I will indeed rehash and redeliver.
The other is that I thought I would lead you over to some other favourite posts in this early part of Blogarch. Oh there are hundreds of them. So I'll just pick a select couple. Ok. 3. And if you do find yourself over at these cyber addresses, please make sure you make your way back over here to let me know what you thought. And if you don't have time to have look right now, come back when you've poured yourself a nice warm cuppa. It'll help. And be worth your time. Promise.
A few months ago I nearly choked on my vegemite sandwich as I received an email from Dan Niblock (my blogging idol). He was asking me (ME!) if he could include my post on Bella (over here) in his compilation of 'the best of the best' of DS posts. The best thing about being featured was that when I ventured over for a squizz I discovered some wonderful posts. And then I discovered one blogger for whom I have no words. I have a heart that beats heavy with every word of hers I read, such is the power of her writing. And yet that is not enough. I know very little about her but I know so much now as a result of her writing. She is a mum. Her daughter is Willa. Willa has Costello Syndrome (a 1 in 30,000,000 chance - yeppo, that's million). Willa also has cancer. I don't even know which post to link to. So here was December.
The space that occupies your heart will never be the same.
I sometimes suffer from anxiety. Not often, but sometimes. My guess is that most people I know have/do. For me it feels like someone has pulled the cord on a chainsaw and let it go right in the middle of my insides. It thrashes around ripping and tearing and shredding on all that is sitting and pounding beneath my skin, and there is not one damn thing I can do about it. Nudda. And it doesn't penetrate the skin so you would never ever know. But I do and it's awful. Awful with a capital A, W, F, U and L.
Recently I read the post of a girlfriend who suffers from depression. Never, in one zillion years, would I have guessed. Because I suspect that same thing happens. What you see on the outside will rarely reflect the extent of the turmoil that sits on the inside. I've lived around depression. But never have I come across anyone so openly willing to talk about that journey. I thought I kinda got how it operated depression but I only understood a smidgen. Then I read this post. I had no idea what Lisa was going through. Now as I track her journey she continues to inspire me right in the middle of it all. I hope, and especially if you are travelling a similar road, that she inspires you too.
I have one purpose and one purpose only for including this blogger. I came across his blog randomly one day and laughed my belly off. And now I want him to write more. And he hasn't yet. So this is my way of letting him know I'm waiting :).
That's it for Blogarch for today.
Til the refresh,