Me time

Me time comes in some unexpected ways. After a brief hiatus I’ll tell you all about it.

Rae xxx

Visiting Nanna

So I did visit Peggy over the weekend. But I forgot the soup. Which wasn’t a problem in the end because I made her more soup. Lots more soup. And some stew. But that’s what you do when you realise there is no food in the house and that the occupant has forgotten how to cook and how to shop. And really, how to make soup from a can.

I found myself standing in her kitchen cooking recipes she taught me, in her old kitchen as a child. I even hid extra vegetables and extra legumes in them too, just like she used to. I humoured her when she wandered into the kitchen, and shooed her away when she got under foot, just like she used to. And I served her a lunch of fresh butternut pumpkin soup in the old soup bowls I used as a child and she ate it with the enormous soup spoons that were always too big for my little mouth. I even let her have her lunch on the couch like she used to let me when I was a good girl.

Shakespeare (through one of his characters I never liked much) said ‘Old fools are babes again’ and he was right. The tremendous respect and love I feel for my ailing grandmother is probably now equal to the compulsion I have to care for her, guide her and even discipline her. It is as though she were another child under my care that requires a lot of guidance, if not supervision. Her incoherent ramblings need to be deciphered and humoured, her choices need to be watched, or else she will eat week old cake for lunch and tea and toast for dinner, whose environment needs to be monitored or else the spiders in the bathroom will surely take over the house.

Then she has a lucid moment, and I feel terrible for treating her as a child.

xxx

PS she has help around the place, and family who do what they can, but dementia is like a noxious weed that can ruin even the foundations unless pruned constantly. She remembers instructions long enough to repeat them back to you then forgets them when she needs them or forgets altogether.

Just watching…

Sets rolled in to Cronulla beach back to back. The constant thunder of waves breaking and crashing on the rocks as the salt perfumed the air. Entire sets tumbling like dominoes; white water, beyond white water, beyond white water, with the beginning of the next set looming in the distance.

The endless parade of people walking along the esplanade, stopping periodically to watch the sea-spray shower the rocks like confetti. Random suburbanites transfixed by the majesty of the waves. Such is the power of the ocean.

Like a watercolor as far as the eye can see, the salt dulling the easy colours of dusk. The endless perfect beach that gently curves from North Cronulla to Boat Harbour like some 1930′s sea-scape.

Local surfers, having heard of the perfect conditions, run to the beach. Board under one arm, wet suit hanging from their middles. Desperate, willing, wanting. Today they will ride the waves. They will strike a rare harmony with the wildness of the ocean. The rest of us can only bear witness to where man and nature collide and divinity sprays up like fireworks.

Making dinner

My son walks past me while I am making dinner, with a bowl in hand and a few spoons.

“What are you doing honey?” I inquire. Rather distracted by the 3 pots on the stove.

He responds rather matter of factly ”Making porridge.”

I thought it was delightful. Mummy cooking at the stove while Cooper pretend cooks on the floor. He had asked for porridge for dinner, but I had pulled rank. One meal of porridge a day is enough, thank you!

Turning to the fridge to get some shalots to add to dinner I stop dead in my tracks. Oats. Everywhere. Oats. EVERYWHERE! He wasn’t kidding! The little blighter wasn’t kidding. He was making himself porridge!

There are times where I wish he wasn’t quite so capable. (I know. BAD mummy! Looking to squash her offspring’s potential.) But really, is it too much to ask that you make it to the teenage, or at least tweenage, years before you get ‘Whatever!’ spat at you from your child? Or at least wait until they reach primary school before they help themselves to the cupboards and make themselves dinner? It isn’t like I was sitting on my arse thumbing through a magazine… I was making dinner – His dinner.

In the first picture, take a look at the container at his feet. Empty. Below is what he did with the contents. Just be thankful you weren’t the one to clean it all up.

The Dragon

“My dragon resides within. It may slumber or it may roar but I am never without it.”

We all have a dragon, I think. Some of us are afraid of ours, others proudly polish the shiny talons and teeth. Very few of us, in my experience, understand our dragons. We don’t spend enough time with them. It is nice that someone is sharing theirs, scales and all, to the world.

A new blog blasted its way onto the web last week; An anonymous mother of 3 who bares her soul and tells it like it is. A woman coming to terms with her dragon amidst domestic chaos.

The writing is wicked, easy to read and drips with personality. The subject matter is close to home for me but universal in that the author finds the human aspect of her experience. She is a mum, but not mumsy.  The author herself attempts to warn us in the first post of what to expect:

Now to prepare you, I am random, blunt, a little crass, left of centre (in more ways than one), oddly humorous, unable to spell to save my life but mostly human.

My favourite exert so far:

I mean people literally do not recognise me anymore. (Which worked in my favour when an old shag of mine served us at the baby store where my husband and I were buying our new twin pram! There’s a ‘please ground just open up and swallow me’ moment for you…) Honestly, I’ve had friends walk right past me.

The Dragon within is already in the ‘must read’ folder of my Google reader. I think you will see why! You can thank me later

This Angel

I wrote this as a teenager. It remains the only piece of my poetry that I have kept. Still not sure I want to share it, but here goes.

This angel fell,

her halo lay broken, aside her beliefs,

shattered, like glass

this fragile heart beats.

Uneasy.

Unsteady.

But not alone.

She will never live a lie.

Isolated.

She will find her harp, her own song.

Her music, her soul,

soothes,

the wounds of her fall.

Highwire turns one!

Oopse! Last weekend was a big weekend. I got married. It was the 5 year anniversary of my relationship with my new husband. My baby turned 21 months. And my blog turned 1! Unfortunately I was very much the ill hostess last Sunday and wasn’t thinking beyond getting my sorry ass back into bed.

So today The Highwire is one year and one week!

Thank you for reading, your comments, messages and emails. If for no other reason The Highwire will continue for another year because you normalise my neuroses and remind me that we are indeed more alike than we are different.

Things you probably don’t know about me.

I have a million blog posts floating around in my pretty-little-head, all of which are too introspective, profound or unformed at this point for me to write articulately about. So I figured I would write the least profound post that is in me to write – a little about me.

1. I am getting married ridiculously soon.
2. I am not a morning person. I am definitely a night owl.
3. In fact when left entirely to my own devices with no responsibilities I wake at 11am and sleep at 4am.
4. No one has ever figured out what colour my eyes are. Blue, green, blue-green or blue-grey.
5. I make pretty shit-hot brownies. Over the weekend a naked man told me so. Really.
6. I will do pretty much anything for honey saffron chocolates.
7. Diets don’t work for me. My body and I are on much better terms when I respect and fuel her.
8. I used to sing. I wasn’t half bad either.
9. The song I sing most now is twinkle twinkle.
10. As hard as I try I simply cannot understand men.
11. Anything I can’t understand bugs hell out of me.
12. I swear entirely too much. So I cringe now that my son has reached the mimicking phase.
13. I have studied mediumship, seership and card reading. Not kidding.
14. I started meditating just after I turned 15.
15. A decade of meditation has mellowed me, but I still have quite a temper when you get me mad.
16. I don’t hold grudges. But I learn my lesson.
17. I used to have a side of the bed… now so long as I have a comfy pillow I’m happy.
18. I can rock hats, sunnies and fascinators, but I find it hard to find shoes to suit my feet.
19. My phone is perpetually nearly flat. I can’t work out if that is because I use to so much or if I don’t charge my phone often enough.
20. I am like Sheldon when it comes to my seat on the couch.
21. I am a sucker for tattoos (tasteful), facial hair (stylish stubble or a sexy beard) and strong hands.
22. I have worn fishnets, wings, a dog collar and a halo. But not all at once. And not all for fancy dress.
23. My favourite piece of fashion are my pink pumps. I love them so much I am wearing them to my wedding.
24. I have scars, stretch marks and a ‘cherry spot’ birth mark.
25. I have sucked snot from my sick infants nose, and yet olives still make me gag.
26. I have one younger sister and two girlfriends I would fly to their side anywhere in the world if they asked.
27. So, I kind of have 3 sisters.
28. I was born on the same day (not year) as Audrey Hepburn.
29. The simplest things soothe my soul. The sound and smell of the beach, rain, a full moon, a gentle kiss, a cup of tea, a great song.
30. I love quotes. These are my current faves:

• • A woman can say more in a sigh than a man can say in a sermon. ~Arnold Haultain
  • Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be. ~ Clementine Paddelford
  • A woman who cannot be ugly is not beautiful. ~Karl Kraus

2009 fare thee well

I have seen many a blog, Facebook update and Tweet bidding 2009 farewell with curse and the finger. While I have had better years, 2009 taught me a lot. So instead of cursing it here is a little summary of the useful lessons and useless facts I learned in 2009:

• Qantas is an acronym.
• There is only so much I can achieve in a day.
• Australia has hornets, and they are non-agressive.
• Real freedom is freedom to do what you must, not what you choose.
• Worry is pointless. Real trouble blindsides you.
• Retail therapy isn’t a solution; it’s part of the problem.
• The ability to be flexible and decisive both stems from self-trust.
• That the loving answer isn’t always ‘yes’.
• That the person who cares the least controls the relationship.
• Balance will reassert itself, whether we like it or not.
• Honest feedback is invaluable.
• Lasting change is incremental, more often than monumental.
• Sometimes the dice are loaded. Thats when we earn our stripes.
• When you make a mistake, trust your instincts. You know how to fix it

Above all else 2009 has taught me that we are measured by what we have learned to love.

From me and mine to you and yours:

Merry Christmas!

May your day, and all your days, be filled with celebration, family, joy and peace.

Wisdom of youth

Watching my toddler play, learn and grow is magical at times. Not all the time. I’ll spare you details of caring for a baby with a tummy bug, breastfeeding and night waking because they aren’t the things you think of when you call to mind your own child. Also because no one warned me about the less-than-cool stuff that goes along with parenting, so I’ll let you figure it out for yourself when the time comes  (if you don’t have kids already.)

Back to the magic. Children have this amazing power to show you the truths and beauty of the human experience. You would think that these times involve an immaculately dressed child playing quietly and saying ‘I love you’. But most often the child has lunch or drool (or both) all over their shirt, surrounded by a pile of mess (usually something they aren’t supposed to play with) and being unreasonably loud for a lung set so small.

So I would like to pass on things my son has taught me and parts of myself I would like to recapture that I have seen in him. You get the benefits without the crap, good deal ha?

Close enough is good enough

He wants a hat. Because he takes after his father and because he is growing faster than a noxious weed, none of his hats fit. Although his young brain understands that I have no hat to give him, his insatiable need for a hat persists. So he settles for an array of substitutes and is just as happy;

• A saucepan (yes, really)
• A beanie. A white chunky knitted beanie of mine.
  
• An empty box
  

Routines are over-rated

I tried and failed miserably to ‘put’ Cooper into a routine. I don’t do futile, so when it became evident that I was trying to force a square peg through a round hole I would relent. Now I am not suggesting that structure is a bad thing, just  that unnecessary and arbitrary structure is a bad thing. Cooper has taught me flow; to follow the path of least resistance and do what feels best. Eat when you’re hungry. Sleep when you’re tired. You are generally happiest (and most productive) when you ar in synch with your own rhythms. Miraculously he has started asking to sleep at 7.30pm because he is tired, not because he is trained to.

Laugh…. A lot

To a toddler everything is funny. I mean everything. Noises are funny, especially raspberries, farts & squeals, but also car alarms, the microwave and Daddy. Not vacuums though. They are scary. Other funny things include splashing, running, running into things, falling down, spinning around, spinning around until you fall down, music, dancing to music, singing to music, throwing, throwing food.

What is special is a toddler will laugh a millisecond after crying. They find the silver lining fast as lightning with humour.

It’s better out than in

What is better out than in? Everything? Toddlers have no issue with dribble, snot, poo, vomit, farts, burps, spitting up food that tastes disgusting, spitting out something they picked up off the floor. More than that children don’t bottle up emotions, they don’t hold grudges, they don’t bite their tongue.

I am not advocating for us to all spew bodily fluids and to turn off the filter that prevents us from voicing our less-than-appropriate thoughts. I’m just saying sometimes its worth questioning why you are keeping it in.

What have your children, nephews and nieces taught you?

Big Yellow Taxi

After a (minor) melt down Saturday morning (There is only so much of a teething baby one I can take without a break) my loving and supportive partner took the darling little bundle on some errands while I went for a coffee.

I chose a quiet corner of Gloria Jeans and let up my laptop, note pad and coffee. Not 5 minutes later 4 girls arrived and sat across from me. All of a sudden the corner was not so quiet. For the most part I ignored them and got on with my work. An hour and a half later, when my concentration was waning and they were loudly singing to “Big Yellow Taxi”, I surrendered and began to observe them.

They piqued my attention because I sang that song, the original version which I am sure they don’t know exists, when I was around their age. Looking at them they are strikingly similar to my teenage friendship group; loud, obnoxious, all front, terribly insecure and they feel totally adult.

Surprisingly I find these girls very comforting; they are living reminders of how far I’ve come in the past decade. On the other hand the scene saddens me a little.

Their outfits were carefully constructed to appear casual, their make-up applied to look natural,  their laughter was forced & fake, the bravado false, they never really made eye contact, even with each other, & the body language was defensive and fidgety even amognst the obviously familiar company. Is this just indicative of the experience of a teenager or are our young girls trying to embody what they are inherently not ready for? Womanhood.

I discussed the experience with a close girlfriend of mine (we will call her Elle) on the weekend and she had a similar reaction. We both acutely remember the insecurity, inadequacy, the feeling of not quite fitting in with even your best friends & thinking that you are the only one who feels that way. Both Elle and I remember not having any clear role-models and the scarcity of information to help us navigate our own inner landscape.

So is the mix of comfort and sadness I feel just a product of my inner dichotomies or is it a reflection of something deeper? I’m not sure. Part of me (my dichotomies again) thinks that if we have outstanding role models for young girls and a medium for girls to access them, then the teenage journey may be less daunting. On the other hand perhaps the awkwardness of our youth has made us the women we are today.

Maybe I am only remembering the less than fun parts of my teenage years and forgetting all the fun I had.

Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” – Big Yellow Taxi
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