Stuff to Do

I've been adjusting my medication schedule - mornings simply don't work well, because they're not consistent enough, and I kept missing doses every time things went pear-shaped. Simply having a child home was enough to throw me out, and I would forget. So when a friend suggested taking it at bedtime instead, that seemed a much better idea. After all, I go to bed roughly the same time every night. While eventually things will even out, at the moment I'm having to work extremely hard to see the good and to accurately assess situations so I can respond appropriately. It is comforting to know that this is a temporary state, and when things level out, I will be happy again. For now though, it's hard, hard work. Exhausting. Which kind of lowers my immunity, and my shingles pain comes back. But I am confident, which is relatively new. I'm not stuck in "This is too hard". I've been working very hard at shedding the guilt and self-criticism which has been

There is a lot of information out there on parenting. French parenting, attachment parenting, free-range parenting, tiger parenting, helicopter parenting, and the list goes on and on ad nauseum. Something that I've been thinking a lot about lately is related to long-term objectives. Someday, my children will appreciate my efforts. The scenario I've created in my head goes like this: (Phone rings) Me: Hello?                        Child: Mum?                       Me: So good to hear your voice. What's new with you?                       Child: (as yet not existent) Child 1 did this thing, and I remembered that time I did the                                 same thing, and I remember the look on your face, and I get it now. I'm sorry.                                Thank you for teaching me to be responsible. I didn't like it, but now I                                 understand. End Scene. Or something along those lines. The thing is, I often experienc

So yesterday was kind of a crazy day, or maybe it was just a day and very #normal. We sold one of our cars, which officially makes us a one-car family again (hooray!). Before that though, there was a brief moment of panic when my son made a remark about it being his friend's birthday party day on the 7th, when we thought it was the 8th. I quickly sent an apology text to his friend's mother, and she replied that we hadn't missed the party, it was the 7th and the party was today (yesterday). Oops. That little drama averted, we then proceeded to drive to meet the fellow who was buying our car. Early lunch at McDonald's, then we started driving home, stopping at a shop to buy swimsuits for two children, then the grocery store, getting supplies for dinner. By the time we arrived home, I was depleted of energy, and desperately needed a coffee. I dented my mother-in-law's car, when I swung my door open to get out of the car, but didn't realise she had pulled into t

I've always loved organising. I've never been organised, but I love the process. The tools, the way it all comes together brilliantly in my mind - all of it. It should not be a surprise then, that 'back-to-school' is my favourite time of year. Here in Australia, thanks to the educational system, I get that four times a year, and the endorphin rush of planning out the family calendar is undeniable. I've made chore charts, I write a list for the morning and afternoon, I'm revamping my housecleaning schedule, but something which I've never done before is including me in my schedule. Normally, I plan out everyone else's schedules, and then try and squeeze myself in the cracks, surviving on the crumbs of the day. I used to think this made me noble, selfless, and somehow more maternal, but now I'm not so sure. If I'm really honest, and since this is my blog I can be, it more often turned me into Hulk Mom, because I was touched out, brained out, nois

So I'm not sure what it is with me and birds, but at our house, there are a lot of birds in the backyard. This provides many opportunities for observation, and it's easy to personify them. This morning, there was a magpie, strutting around, rather oblivious to the peewee dive-bombing it. It was an excellent metaphor for the mama I'm trying to become. Something I've observed over the years is that with children, everything is equally an emergency. They live by extremes. Or maybe that's just my children - it's exhausting. For ten years, I have been living on alert, stuck in crisis mode. In some ways, this has served me well. In an actual emergency, I'm cool as a cucumber. Daughter drops a broken plate and slices her foot open? Blood everywhere? No problem. Another daughter sick and admitted to hospital? I'm on it. The thing is,  all of those pretend emergencies kind of act like practice for the real thing. The downside is that every single time I've