#219 Grand Final Holiday

Here in Victoria, we have recently been blessed with the addition of a new public holiday: AFL Grand Final Eve.

Because for the state that has footy running through their blood, who has every old man, young woman or child having to barrack for at least someone even if their heart isn’t in it (by Victorian default you MUST have a team) of course there should be a holiday to prepare for the mammoth intake of beer, sausage rolls, party pies and hot dogs to be consumed on Grand Final Day, often the last Saturday of September, but lately the first one of October, as is the case tomorrow.

A bit of hoo-ha has been brought up over the financial stress placed on small businesses because of this new public holiday. I get it, but… guys? Public holiday?

We get another public holiday!

The period between the Queens Birthday holiday at the start of June, to the Melbourne Cup weekend in November is a LONG one, so a holiday in the middle of it is not only adequate, but completely necessary.

So whether you spent your Grand Final Eve day off having coffee and cake, looking at beds, shopping for groceries, cleaning the house, having friends over for dinner (or all of the above as we did!), I hope, fellow Victorians, that your day off was a good one.

And in light of the mighty Pies not being in the final tomorrow, I am too with the rest of the state to proclaim: ‘Go Bulldogs!’

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#218 Parents’ generosity

Quite simply, I am so grateful for the generosity of our parents.

Whether it be in generosity in time

generosity in support

generosity in help

generosity in love, or

generosity in money…

I am grateful that they are here with all of their generosity, so giving and so willing to lend us a helping hand, no matter what that hand may hold.

And even though presently, it is my parents and my MIL helping us out in this Sea change transition of ours, I know that my father-in-law is watching over us, making sure things go to plan, as shitty as he may be that we are moving so far away 😉

I am a parent so I know the lengths one will go to for their children, but still, to feel the warmth and love and endless support that knows no boundaries, no conditions, it is really humbling.

We are so lucky.

 

#217 I’m better

OMG. I actually woke today feeling comparatively in better physical spirits than… I can’t remember. It was a while back. But I don’t care. I’m better.

A short, but sweet post. I’m so grateful. As the weather turns grey and wet again, I don’t give so much of a crap because I feel good and I’m willing to celebrate this turn of health no matter how little sunshine lands upon my door…

#216 Helping Hubbie

Hubbie always comes to the rescue when I need it. He can see it in my face, hear it in my tone, and judge by the way my body sags with every sigh. Despite the fact that he himself is often tired from a long day at work, he’ll step up and help out when I’m having a hard time, with whatever task it is I need to prepare at home. Cooking. Changing baby girl. Bathing her.

Tonight, he washed the dishes, and I was really grateful for it.

When it comes to doing the dishes, you’re one of two people: you’re either a person who doesn’t mind doing the dishes, like me. I find it therapeutic, and though when I make a cake it becomes awfully tedious with the amount of dishes I end up with stacked on the dish rack, I still don’t mind the cleansing process.

Or. Or you can be like Hubbie, and really detest washing dishes.

The fact that he doesn’t like it so much, makes me all the more grateful for him helping me out today.

Hubbie: “come on, I’ll do the dishes.”

Me: “No, you did them yesterday…”

Hubbie: “But I want my music on if I’m doing them.”

Me: “it’s ok, I’ll do them.”

Hubbie: “you’re sick! I’ll do them.”

Me: (standing uncertainly) “well I’ll go do something else then.”

No rest for the wicked.

I’ve been sick, for like, ages. I’m seriously over it. One thing or another it is with me lately. And I appreciate that I have a husband that not only will help me on consecutive nights of the week, but that he will help despite the fact he hates having to do it… but would rather he did it, then let me be all sickly and moaning over it.

Gosh he’s the best.

 

#215 Jumping on the bed

It’s been a fucked up kind of day. I don’t say that lightly. Nor do I swear (online) lightly. (Offline I swear like a trooper).

It’s been a fucked up time. I don’t need to tell you that I’ve been sick, with one thing or another, for the past 2 weeks.

I don’t need to tell you, that there is much confusion and many uncertain elements up in the air in relation to our impending Sea change.

I don’t need to tell you, that we have to put new house visions on the backburner because very little is going to plan.

I don’t need to tell you, that I have 30+ flat-packed boxes and a whole house to pack.

I don’t need to tell you that baby girl has been trying today, despite me begging her to go easy on her sick Mum.

But I do need to tell you that, because the latter is what makes it all the more rewarding.

This isn’t that type of blog: it’s not a ranting blog, rather it’s a gratitude blog. But sometimes I just need to paint a picture. Despite many good things lately, there have also been many shit things. And feeling like crap day in and day out, and then having your child be difficult with you repeatedly… I haven’t had the best Mothering day, let me tell you.

But whenever I’m having a low day, I find that this whole project actually helps me to try and make it better, or try to find something worth being grateful for. Despite all the snotty noses, tears and tantrums (all ME), I had some really nice moments with baby girl today.

And one of them, was when we were jumping on my bed. There was nothing particularly striking or unusual about the crazy event: I mean, as the name suggests – we just went a bit psycho jumping and laughing about on the bed. Followed by a good deal of tickling, wrestling, squeals, leaps and jumps, and kisses and hugs.

But it was pretty awesome. And it made me think, that jumping on the bed is a bit of a cure for all the adult shit out there, stressing us out and making us go grey too early.

I’m grateful for it, and for baby girl who makes me feel like a kid when I really need it.

 

#214 Reaffirming game

We had a great day today at a sweet little boy’s Christening. And trust me when I say, there were A LOT of kids.

All the better for baby girl. She drew and pasted and crafted beside them, ran beside them, yelled beside them, and then when the fairy entertainer came, she was definitely beside them.

And then the music came on. Dancing, spinning, laughing, clapping, jumping. And every so often, looking behind herself to where I was leaning against the wall beaming encouragement at her.

She’d clap – look back at me. Jump – look back at me. Act like a tiger – look back at me – before continuing with whatever game she was doing. Even Hubbie noticed and mentioned how she was doing something, and then checking if I was approving, okay with it… reaffirming her actions.

It was actually kind of sweet. Maybe she just wanted to see my response to dancing alongside a real-life fairy. That’s not something you see everyday, after all.

But I was grateful for the moment. Of seeing her interact beautifully alongside so many other kids; the passion with which she gave of herself to having the most fun possible; and the constant checking in of what ‘Mama’ thought.

I felt pretty privileged. It made me feel important, almost like I’m her Mum, or something…

#213 3 generations at ‘the’ park

As I looked into her eyes, at her darling face, it was a picture I wanted to engrain in me until the end of time, like so many other times before…

I read a really sweet story online a while back, where a woman had a photograph of her first day of school at her parents house, and fast forward 20 or so years later, there was a photo now of her own daughter, looking similar to how she did, in the same house, and even wearing the same clothes, as she was going to be attending the same school as her mother did! What deja vu those grandparents would have had, looking at their sweet little granddaughter get ready for her first day of school, looking like a replica of their own daughter, like so many years ago.

I often have this thought, and I know Hubbie does too, with baby girl in reference to my Mum. Many people say she looks like me, but there are also many who think quite specifically, that she looks like my Mum – as I do too. And because of the striking similarity, I wonder how it must be like for my Mum at times, when she’s looking down at baby girl, playing, smiling, talking to her, and whether she gets lost in the moment and suddenly sees me, 30 years earlier (I was going to say 20 years but then I realised I was dreaming).

I don’t mean for it to sound self-obsessed, but my Mum has even admitted to it, saying sometimes she has to check herself from saying my name instead of baby girl’s. And because my parents are still at the same address, living in the same childhood home I knew all my young life, I know that a lot of those old memories must come forth in the light of new ones taking place.

Today after visiting my parents, we decided to spontaneously go to the park. You can be sudden in your park choice there, because the park is next door to my parents’ house. It is super convenient as a child, and super convenient when you have a child. We ran over, my Mum following, and we walked, played and ran around the playground.

Baby girl wanted to go in the swing, and I strapped her in. After pushing her a few times, I jumped into the adult swing beside her, and lined up my swing so that we were moving together, side by side.

And it was then. Then that I looked into her bright, smiling face. The wind was pushing strands of her hair around her face, and the sun was bright behind the clouds, making her squint slightly. Her smile was wide, so happy, so content, as we moved back and forth together. She was so thrilled to be swinging there with me. And there was nowhere in the world that I would have rather been. I was still cool yet angelic in her eyes. She was still my baby girl. It was a truly perfect moment.

I became aware of my Mum then, pacing slowly through the park. She was at a distance, and I remembered with a jolt, how I used to swing there. Sure, back then it was a totally different swing. The playground was wooden then, now it was metal. Back then the playground consisted of some swings, a slide, and a see saw that got burnt down one New Year’s Eve. Now the 21st century renovated park had walkways in between slides, climbing ladders and challenging chains, play-pretend steering wheels and rotating cubes for littlies to discover, and of course, the swings, amongst other park re-incarnations.

I was still at the park I grew up in… only now I wasn’t swinging alongside 1 of my 3 besties at the time. This time, this day, I was beside my baby girl. Mum was there, looking at two of her girls. And as 3 generations occupied the space, I couldn’t help but think how grateful I was for the moment, and how truly, life certainly goes around.

In the cycle of life.