#947 Aches be gone

Oh, it is the sweetest thing. You take your health for granted, and then life decides to suddenly heap some shit upon your head –

BOOM! and you wake up sore, with muscle aches, a pounding head, and an inability to focus… man do you wish for those days you wasted away while being healthy.

Something happened to me yesterday. Maybe it was Hubbie’s cold rubbing off on me far too late in the game. Maybe it was seasonal, what with Melbourne weather saying “now I’m hot… no I’m not! WINTER darlings!” Or maybe it was the kids birthday party I took baby girl to on the weekend… we all know kids means germs and God knows what.

But I had some kind of bug that luckily only lasted 24 hours… because today I woke better, rested, still with this kind of dull ache reminder in my head of what was, reminding me to take it easy, but still, FABULOUS compared to what was yesterday.

And I was sooo grateful for it. The health. The absence of soreness and achiness.

Here’s to the simplest and best things in life… being healthy πŸ™‚

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Photo by Jony Ariadi on Unsplash

#924 Happy to be home

It’s so amazing when you get a chance to go away.

You have weeks, sometimes months to get excited. To start planning your itinerary. You look up places, talk to friends, get tips on the best places to go. You research, you save up, and then, after all of that waiting and waiting and waiting…

YOU GO.

And you have the best time. You have, such a great time, that you find it really sad to even think of going back home. Back to reality. Back to routine. Back to normal life.

But.

BUT.

But, there is still a little part of you, that misses the comforts.

The comforts, of HOME.

Your bed.

Your flat pillow.

The alarm clock.

The alarm clock at eye level.

12 teaspoons in the cutlery drawer.

Not having to drive without google maps.

Getting served, quickly.

The blankets that don’t overheat.

The curtains that actually shut out the morning sun.

And, the HUGE one…

The steamed vegies.

Don’t get me wrong. We loved our holiday in sooo many ways. As we should. A holiday should open your eyes to another way of living, a different culture, and in many instances even, a different world. You should be thrown out of your comfort zone, question things, re-evaluate your life and why it is we do the things that we do, and we also should live differently.

And despite all the marvellous things that occurred during our holiday, the places we went and the things we had and the sights and smells we witnessed…

Damn it is good to be home. Because we realised, all those little things that make home, home.

They are just little things. But the fact that your home has them, and this other place, DOESN’T… well suddenly, you house seems like the holiday locale, and the other is just slightly lacking.

Still brilliant! But not quite there, even with startling river views and breathtaking mountains in the distance.

Because downstairs is freezing and you woke at 7am on your holiday because of the super light blinds.

And that’s the way it’s meant to be. Our homes should be decked out the way we want, and we should come home happy to be there, and grateful for what we have experienced.

I will always love to travel, and I am already thinking of the next place we could possibly go… I think the whole point of travelling is to learn, educate yourself on how others live, expand your horizons, and appreciate the process.

Appreciate your world, by appreciating what is out there.

You are MEANT to come home, happy. I think that is key. I think that is what we always do. We sigh, unpack, put on the steamer, and say –

“I’m so happy we went, but I’m so glad we are home now.”

And the day we stop saying that, well it just means we will have to move.

But as long as we have 12 teaspoons in our drawer and dark curtains, that day may not come very soon πŸ™‚

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#876 My arty mug

Well, talk about BALANCE.

After the full-on day that was yesterday, today totally lived up to my wish of doing not much at all.

But amidst all of the nothingness, there was still one thing that provided me with novelty, and it was actually in its reminder of the great day we had yesterday.

Meet, my new mug.

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I think I officially have a thing. I like to purchase souvenirs when I visit interesting places, whether they are from concerts, shows or exhibitions… and mugs seem to be the perfect memory capsule. I mean, I use them, EVERY DAY. You can never have too many. And they are the ideal small-sized reminder of whatever it is you’re remembering, without taking up too much selfish space.

I saw this print somewhere else a while ago, which is why when I saw it again, I knew I had to have it. I think the simplistic representation of each artist’s style via face is excellent, a great resource for any arty novice, and just a cute little joke for anyone with more of a discerning artistic nature.

The mug has already settled in comfortably… in my hand.Β β™₯

#873 Her love of pasta

I know kids generally love eating carbs. Plain foods, with not much discernible taste. Bread. Rice. Cucumber. Corn. Potatoes.

I have always loved my carbs, and believed myself to be of Italian descendance in a past-life, so strong was my love for durum wheat flour mixed with eggs/water.

But baby girl? Her love of PASTA not only amazes me – it fascinates me, baffles me, and it heavily amuses me.

And it follows that something that should humour me, should also be something I am grateful for. πŸ™‚

This girls antics are hilarious. She celebrates the knowledge of pasta being made for dinner at night, like a lottery win! Just tonight, when she saw the packet beside the stovetop, she shrieked “YAY PASTA!” grabbed the packet and hugged it to her chest before kissing it over and over and over and over again.

Oh gawd.

It is really so sweet. And I find it so because it brings things back to basics, showing that the fact she is so happy about really, such a simple thing… it highlights her young age, and represents her naivety.

Both things I long to keep forever.

But in absence of ignorant youthfulness…. there will always be pasta πŸ˜‰

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#862 K2 Swimmer

It’s such a simple thing that has me feeling grateful today. It is about growth.

Baby girl has been doing swimming lessons now for just under 2 months. She shares the class most of the time, with a boy, and a fellow girl, who I can only say is slightly younger than her just based on her size. Although younger, this girl can swim with her head in the water, legs kicking furiously, for almost half a lap. She has clearly been doing this for a while.

Monday nights are crazy, in that half of the Peninsula is there at the swim school between 3 and 6pm, all the lanes packed full of classes containing kindergarten and primary school-aged kids, all with varying levels of skill and ability.

And as these lessons take place, so too do you see the ‘walkers.’ The swim teachers who aren’t in the lane, but they are doing their rounds, their walk-a-bouts, checking attendance when they approach each teacher, and also, from time to time, checking the children’s progress.

It was baby girl’s class’ turn today.

She approached baby girl’s teacher, and from my position I could see them exchange some words – suddenly baby girl was in the water, and demonstrating how she could push off and kick with her kickboard. They nodded in understanding, but then I didn’t see the rest of baby girl’s progress, as she moved from my view behind a huge brick pillar.

I watched the other children partake – both the boy with permanent goggles on his face, and the younger, feisty girl. They both did longer laps, kicked for a decent duration, and were able to travel a greater distance than baby girl. I mean, it made sense. They had been doing this longer.

Sure, she could put her head under water. She didn’t get worried when her face got splashed on. And she was getting amazing at her floating, even doing it by herself! She just wasn’t as skilled as the other two yet, in travelling a lap-type distance.

I watched the ‘walker’ give some positive encouragement to the kids when they were done. She high-fived each of them, and then headed on over to us parents, to give us the update.

I was the last parent to get the news.

“She’s doing great!” she exclaimed to me. “She’ll be moving up a level!”

Really? I thought. I’m the first to praise my child, but also I am not blind.

“Wow!” I said out loud. “That’s great!”

She went on to explain that from baby girl’s K1 level, her goals had been to make four kicks with a kickboard – that was achieved today, and with her other skillsets, was now able to move to K2.

“She’ll still stay in that class, as it is both K1 and K2,” she went on. “But she will be going home with a certificate today.”

Oh. Now it made sense.

As the ‘helper’ headed off to review more kids, I was beaming. Rapt. Next time baby girl looked over at me, I gave her not 1, but 2 thumbs up.

I was so proud.

It was such a simple thing, yes. But as I always say, the simple things are the most important.

And though it may seem like an everyday, average event…. the feelings I got were far from. πŸ™‚

#854 Back to bed on a Sunday

My gratitude came super early this morning. Like 7am early, in the form of baby girl calling out to me from downstairs.

7am is early for a Sunday. A Sunday in Winter. A Sunday in which darkness is still creeping through the sides of the blinds, and a Sunday where I had to work the following Saturday night, late into the early hours of…

Sunday Morning. It was that kind of Sunday.

It was cold. I was still so tired. But after attending to baby girl, I headed on back upstairs…

To sleep in beautiful peace for another 3 and a half hours. We all slept. We all needed it. The house was still and silent and calm, and we drifted off into our fairy tale lands amidst it all.

I LOVED IT.

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Photo by Olya /Voloshka on Unsplash

#840 Soulful Sunday’s no. 1

And so begins a new gratitude thread, one dedicated to doing things that feed your soul and settle your mind and body, on what is the sacred day between the busy-ness, drinks and catch-up with friends that is Saturday, and the return to routine and day-to-day school/work/life cycle that is Monday.

Sunday. Soulful. It can really involve anything, with the determining factor of success being that after doing it, you feel good. The sky is the limit when it comes to doing whatever it is you please, as we are all made happy by so many different things… some so extravagant…

Some SO simple. Like my day, today.

It was just a quiet, really quiet day. I caught up on stuff around the house, because God knows I neglect it and the things I need to do more than I care to admit; I sat on the couch at one point with Hubbie watching the footy, my head on his shoulders; and I got a lot of special hugs from baby girl, rapt herself that we had simply spent the whole day together as a family.

Looking out the window at Sunsets being submerged by impending dark clouds was a point of interest too:

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So there is my quiet, simple, and soulful Sunday. Because I feel replenished after it all, I know, it was a success πŸ™‚