#1561 Day 63 of getting there: Music remastered

Movement, and music. Two free things that have helped enormously during this isolation period.

I found myself inadvertently singing to baby girl at two different times today. Music is so prevalent in our home, so much a part of our lives… it’s always Hubbie’s music, or my music, baby girl’s music, or something we totally rock to all together.

I’m surprised our cat doesn’t have his own playlist. Oh hold on, the bird does. He just whistles along.

And for some reason, if I can sing a song and make it out to be about baby girl, I do it.

It makes me so happy, and I think she likes it too. πŸ˜‰

I was getting my car warmed up as it revved in the driveway, ready for my once weekly mammoth grocery shop. Baby girl and Hubbie were running around outside, and a song started to play in the car, familiar, but better.

Because it was LIVE.

They saw me bopping along and came around to the driver’s side to listen.

I sang along where I remembered the lyrics… I bopped in between… if you can call it that.

“One two three, take my hand and come with me

Because you look so fine

That I really wanna make you mine…”

Bop bop bop bop bop bop.

“I said you look so fine that I really wanna make you mine.”

Bop bop bop bop bop bop.

Meanwhile baby girl started dancing along too. I pointed to her and sang –

“Well you don’t need no money when you look like that do you honey?”

Bop bop bop bop bop bop bop!

“Long brown hair…”

Bop bop bop bop bop bop bop.

And then I pointed to her dramatically to sing “I said are you gonna be my girl?”

To get:

“Yes!”

“Awww!” Hubbie and I gushed together.

I went off to do the grocery shop, feeling happy in my heart.

But I found myself remastering lyrics from another song, to her again. Earlier tonight I had Queen’s Greatest Hits on, with ‘You’re My Best Friend.’

Again, an overdramatic point to her, making sure to catch her eye to sing –

“My feelings are true, and I really love you.

You’re my best friend.”

We smiled at each other and laughed, and I know it was the smallest thing, but those little moments are the best.

They leave your heart all warm and fuzzy, and I know hers felt like that, because mine felt like that too.

#1560 Day 62 of getting there: the 2 night countdown

Tonight I got her to bed.

So it’s only 2 nights left.

2 nights left before… normality begins again.

Before school begins again.

Photo by Black ice on Pexels.com

Baby girl’s bedtime routine used to be sooo much easier pre-corona. She would be tired from the school day, after-school activities, and with our general life and running around, that falling asleep happened quickly.

Now? Now she gets up whenever she wants.

She goes to bed late.

Sleeps on average 11 hours, if not 12 some days. And when I’m trying to get her to sleep, she is stalling with every thing she can.

“One more game?”

“Can you do the puzzle with me for just a minute?”

“Just a quick story.”

“Can I tell you a quick story?”

“Can you lie in bed with me?”

Let me tell you, nothing is ever quick. Something that is meant to take 2 minutes, will always take 10.

Even when I get her in bed, and lying down…

Suddenly, there are life questions she has to ask.

She will reveal something I didn’t know, so of course I need to probe with “when did this happen?”

Or there will be a funny story that she has to share.

And the heart tugger… “Mama… I love you.”

She’s a clever one. She manages to steer the topic away from sleep constantly, and gets me sidetracked a lot.

I’m getting tired of it. I’m tired, of her not being tired at night.

I am ready for her to be tired again.

Let’s do this! 2 nights to go…

#1559 Day 61 of getting there: the treasure hunt

It was a pretty non-eventful home schooling day.

I mean, they called it a ‘device free’ day. That meant that they had given us a an activity sheet to download earlier, which we could work off with our kids, and give them a much-needed break from doing so much on their devices.

Basically, it was a BS day.

We looked at the sheet after my work shift, and baby girl was like “nah.”

I let it be. I mean, she was meant to go back in only days anyway. Playing pretend hairdresser or making up a dinner menu, well missing that kind of activity wasn’t going to really affect her schooling life.

Unbeknownst to her I had checked out the list in advance, and decided to surprise her with something else…

A treasure hunt!

Yep, a treasure hunt was on the list, so I took the idea by the reigns and steered it in my direction. I made a rough sketch of our ground floor, and started thinking of places to hide little notes to help her around the house, to find the ultimate goal…

Chocolate, LOL what else?

So we did it after dinner, and seriously, she loved it.

No more seriously… Hubbie and I loved it more than she did. πŸ˜‰

And when she found the chocolate, she was rapt… only to take a bite of the gourmet strawberry speckled chocolate heart Hubbie had bought home from his work, and go –

“It has a funny taste.”

So she got a plain one instead, oh well. We do these fun things for our kids, these special things, and what do we get…

Fun for us instead. And memories. Memories for us all. πŸ™‚

#1558 Day 60 of getting there: the kite

You see, we kind of think we know everything as parents.

Sure, we kinda do. We are the older ones, experienced ones, mature ones, and the responsible ones.

But it doesn’t necessarily mean we know what’s best, ALL the time.

This afternoon baby girl wanted to fly her kite. That is all. In 14 degree, wind-less weather, she wanted to run outside, in the biting cold, and run around.

I said NO.

She was still coughing. Albeit not as much as me, but it was still there. She still had snots, occasionally coming out of her nose.

With school’s return so close around the corner, I wasn’t having it.

She kicked up a fuss and stormed off into her room. I let her cool off for a bit before I went in, starting to second-guess myself.

“Hey… what about 5 minutes only?”

She RAN.

And I watched her. I watched her run up and down the yard, the speed forcing the kite in the otherwise still air to rise up.

Up and down, up and down, up and down.

She was puffing after her 16th attempt. And I realised in that moment…

We don’t always know it all. Sure we have reasons why we do, and say, what we do, and say…

But sometimes it’s as simple as…

She KNOWS. She knows what she needs.

And the girl, needed to run.

#1557 Day 59 of getting there: a day for my book

I go from one hat, to another hat, to another hat.

ALL DAY LONG.

Work hat. Mum hat. Teacher hat. Cleaner hat. Chef hat. Pet owner hat. Wife hat. Washing hat. (Did I say cleaner hat?)

Emotional hat. Maintenance hat. Finance hat.

Where is my ‘me’ hat?

Sure we are in lockdown, but all it means for me is I’m doing everything from home now, instead of leaving the house for things that I used to.

It’s now the work and the home schooling, as well as trying to do all of the normal everyday tasks that keep the house running,

I jump from one thing to another thing to another thing, all without taking a breath.

Overwhelmed is an emotion I am all too familiar with.

I asked myself the other night “where is my ‘me time'”?

Sure, I do this at night. Everyone goes to sleep. I blog, I journal.

Other times I am so spent I watch my guilty pleasure Bold and the Beautiful on repeat, or just scroll aimlessly through social media.

But then, that other big question… the question that I’m sure A LOT of us has thought at one point or another during this lockdown…

What is it for?

What is the point? Where am I placing my valuable time, and is it leading me in the direction I want to go?

Or have I fallen into routine, and need to be reminded of that which makes my heart sing?

What about my book?

Yeah, MY BOOK. That thing I was working on ’til early this year, which I then left because ‘feedback overload!’ All well and good, but with so long a break, it was time to ask the question again.

‘What about my book?’

A new plan. A new decision. A new routine.

A new hat. A writing hat. πŸ™‚

Wednesdays was now going to be my BOOK day.

It doesn’t matter how much (or how little) I spend working on my novel… but from now on, I’m going to be announcing to the house my intentions, and ordering them all to leave me alone for as long as they can muster!

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Today it was about 80 minutes… not bad. It was baby steps. I first had to remind myself of where I was at, re-reading feedback from writing pals, and taking notes to ‘up the ante’ of my story.

Even if I do one line, each Wednesday…

I am doing something. I need to be easy on myself. I know how I work.

Life can get away from us. But if I can try stick to this new routine, all my Wednesdays will surely amount to something.

They will amount to much more, than doing nothing.

#1555 Day 57 of getting there: Bright Wiggly pyjamas

Another package arrived today.

That’s the thing about isolation. Deliveries are always exciting, but the anticipation of them goes up several notches when it’s what you’re relying on as your retail therapy.

Only it’s delayed.

There was one item I couldn’t wait to get, and it wasn’t even for me…

Bright yellow Emma wiggle pyjamas.

It wasn’t even a luxury… new pjs becameΒ  necessary last week when two holes appeared in two different sets of pyjamas of hers… two!

It’s as if as soon as I ordered them, the old ones willed themselves to tear.

Baby girl was so rapt when she saw her surprise… she put them on straight away to try.

At lunchtime. I had to force her out of them and back into normal clothes.

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I don’t know what it is about the colour yellow… it’s not just knowing baby girl loves her new set, but it’s the way the colour is reflective of her, and just lights up the room with happiness, cheer, love.

Even in the dark. 🌟

#1554 Day 56 of getting there: missing out on shit

Sometimes, hard times get harder.

And that sucks.

Like when isolation restrictions lessen, but you still have to remain isolated.

A few choice expletives are more than necessary, but this is a gratitude blog, so we’ll all use our imaginations for that.

But when you can’t be in the company of loved ones, and you know you are missing out, that the rest of the world is catching up…

I had to do the only thing I could today.

Take a walk.

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Clear the head. Breathe in the co2. Stretch the limbs, feel the sunshine on my face, and then run after Hubbie and baby girl as they suddenly got further and further away from me down the street…

And I felt good. I was pushing past my natural limit, I was making those legs ache, I was gearing myself to get the heart pumping more, the lungs taking in more air.

I was feeling lighter.

And then as I passed a large gum tree, with dozens of chattering birds ahead… the unthinkable happened.

Well, not so unthinkable. Definitely thinkable after today.

I felt wetness on my hands. I stopped. Looked at the drops.

Turned down to observe my top…

And realised, I had been marked.

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Bloody $!*% birds.

How eternally optimistic is our culture, when it tells us that something good, can come out of something bad…

Like that good luck comes from something as crap (pun intended) as when a bird unloads its bowels on you?

How hopeful is that?

Hubbie told me how he got bird shit on him as a kid in primary school. All his friends told him he would get good luck that day…

He went home and he waited… and waited… and waited.

And nothing came.

What a load of SHIT.

I like him, am still waiting….

But at least I got my walk. And at the end of the day, this sunset.

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Now that, gives me hope.