#1089 Rebirth of an orchid

I entered the laundry today.

Within moments – “Oh!”

Shocked. Startled. Amazed beyond belief.

I was moved even.

It was about the Phalaenopsis plant. Rather, to you and me and most Tom, Dick and Nancy’s, the orchid. MY orchid. The plant that had been gifted to us when baby girl was born, the plant I had kept alive… until recently.

Until the move.

I am honestly not sure if it has bloomed since we moved house. Last summer, despite it being next to a window, I don’t recall seeing it blossom once, NOT ONCE… it soon moved to a less prominent position, but still by a window, and still facing the same side of the house as it was before… only it was in a different room. The laundry.

I was hopeful for so long. This plant held ties with baby girl’s arrival. Sure, it’s miraculous to keep these things growing beyond a few years. Plants die, ndoor potted ones more so… I get it.

But this one I COULD NOT LET GO OF.

I watered it. Gave it food. Trimmed some dead leaves and branches from it. With no change and the soil becoming more like sand than dirt, I started to contemplate throwing it away.

Again… I just couldn’t. I left it there in the laundry, facing the window, with dust settling on the leaves… thinking one day, I would do something with it.

I just didn’t know what.

So to walk in today and find this…

IMAG7219

What? My orchid was alive? Reborn from brittle soil when I least expected it, its seed lying dormant for the longest time, waiting, just waiting, for the right combination of circumstances to spring forth…

I honestly, clapped with glee. Got teary. I am so glad I didn’t give up.

You all know what this means. I may not throw out a plant now, NEVER EVER EVER.

Because you never know if a seed of hope is lying around somewhere, just waiting.

Waiting…

#1057 What she said no. 12

Heartache can find you in the most unusual of places.

On a sunny day. In a crowded room. In the afternoon.

Within the waning throngs of people in a shopping centre food court.

I sat beside the fountain spurting up water beside me, with baby girl, who had insisted we sit right next to it, watching it fascinated.

Bites of sushi rolls sat before us. A plate of half-eaten rice. She was suddenly staring into my eyes, telling me she liked my eyebrows.

I couldn’t help but smile.

But then she said it again… this time though she touched her eyelashes. I corrected her, and as we sat there silently looking at each other, she leaned forward intently with her wide-eyed gaze, mouth upturned, and I suddenly had to mirror back her face.

“Mama! I can see myself in your eyes!”

The room was well-lit with hopes, dreams, never-giving-up and the post-midday sun that shone through the glass ceiling. I looked into her eyes, and reflective shiny things happily bounced off it.

“And honey, I can see myself in yours.” ♥♥♥♥

#923 The holiday bath

There is something that I haven’t yet indulged about our time away in Hobart over the last few days.

At one stage or another, we have ALL been sick.

Hubbie was the first. Or should I say, his nasally symptoms and hoarse throat, followed him interstate and over-seas.

Baby girl was second. On the day we were planning to go to the MONA museum, she began showing symptoms of an unwell state. Not eating. Lying down. Looking sleepy.

All of this right after waking up. This was not normal for her.

And though she was determined to jump onto the ferry, her symptoms overwhelmed her, and after falling asleep on a lounge at a MONA café after we walked all over the place, she then crashed even harder on the couch back at our accommodation.

I copped it today.

Or should I say, I progressed today. Because I have had the same annoying cough, incessantly beating its way up into my throat passages and forcing itself up, scratching my insides and thudding my lungs in the process, for about 3 weeks now.

I woke feeling weak, my throat was worse, and I felt absolutely wrecked and emotional.

It’s no surprise that we have all been sick, or been more worse off at one time or another, during this holiday out of all times.

We haven’t stopped. You know that phrase, you need a holiday from your holiday? That is totally US. Because we’re just go-go-go. We’re taking it all in, trying to sight-see and experience and involve ourselves in as much as Hobart and its surrounds has to offer.

All at the expense of our health. Because we have not had a chance to breathe.

Today we still went out and did things… but there was a distinct period in the late afternoon where we were just hanging out at our rental abode. We had deliberately cleared the schedule for this time, because it was needed, as much as the sight-seeing and walking and tours and driving and scenic lookouts were needed.

And then, after I cleared it with the boss –

I decided, I needed a bath.

The boss being, baby girl of course. I had to let her know where I was disappearing off to, because God help me if she didn’t know, she would walk around the place yelling “Mama!” and any serene water spell would be immediately disturbed and broken.

I put on my pouty lips and sad face when she first joked with me that I was not allowed to go. She wanted me, all to herself. I play-pretend cried, and suddenly my wish was granted.

I headed into the bathroom, filling up the water in the bathtub, at 4:30pm.

When I sat in the bath, I was just about submerged. I relaxed as the water enveloped me, tried to settle my mind, my thoughts, and my weary spirit, and breathed…

Hold on. It wasn’t at the perfect optimum temperature. I turned only the hot faucet on, watching the water trickle out slowly for a few more minutes.

I lay there all content and steamed up afterwards. Ahh, that’s better. Submerged in the extra heat of the water, I felt my skin tingling and blistering from the temperature, knowing that small clusters of red were forming all over my skin, creating the large framework of lobster that I endeavoured to look like every time I exited out of any shower/bath.

Because if I ain’t hot, well the shower/bath ain’t worth it.

Finally I was able to relax more. The bubbles which had been so in abundance when I first set in, dispersed into puddles of flat foam, swimming easily around the bath.

I closed my mind.

Drip drip drip.

The tap wasn’t turned off all the way, and the dropping of water interrupted my thoughts for only a moment.

My mind went to the past day, to where we were eating that night, to the next day, to our bird back at home… things I had to do, whether or not baby girl should go back to kinder on Monday… but at some point these rational thoughts ceased, replaced instead by things I had heard and seen in the last few days, street names and places, with characters I did not know, and it was all flowing together in swift disconnected cohesion, though none of it was actual reality.

My body, stilled.

I was starting to very lightly dream.

Drip drip drip.

The dripping of the tap brought me back to the present. I was here in this foreign bathtub, in another person’s bathroom, with sounds of Hubbie and baby girl floating on through from the rooms above me, while I lay there in the heat of the water, drifting away, in both physical and mental form.

I allowed my eyes to rest a few more times, but as the water began to cool, my eyes began to open more frequently. My body was now hot, the kind of hot that makes you all hazy and sleepy and cloudy in the head. I lay for ages, thinking how well they were doing without bothering me, until I heard Hubbie’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Then there was a knock on the door.

Since I had no time on me, I had asked him to tell me when 30 minutes was up. In fact, it was 5:20 – he had let me go way over.

I knew I had married him for a reason.

I was grateful for the time spent just being this afternoon. I was grateful that Hubbie had been kept busy with his extensive folk music collection online, and I was grateful that baby girl had been busy watching dolls on youtube.

Both of their ‘busy’s had allowed me to do NOTHING AT ALL. And it was exactly what the holiday ordered.

But the weird thing was, I could have done the exact same thing at home… and yet I had to fly 720 kilometres, just to be reminded of that fact.

Now I hope, I have reminded you too 🙂

holger-link-761436-unsplash

Photo by Holger Link on Unsplash

 

 

#921 The ferry ride we fought for

The immediate theme apparent today soon after waking up?

“God help those trying to drive into the MONA ferry area and find parking for longer than 2 hours.”

Firstly, baby girl was not well. She went from absolutely fantastic and bubbly upon waking, to a seriously fast decline of blah.

And although we repeatedly asked her if she was sick, or sore, or was going to vomit, she continually declined the suggestions, saying she wanted to go on the boat.

We tentatively left the house, watching her carefully.

But it was meant to be even harder. The only parking’s surrounding the ferry were 2 hour slots. This was no where near enough as simply a one-way ferry ride across the river to the Museum of Old and New art (MONA) was 25 minutes.

The only 3 hour parking we found, required coins.

No credit card. JUST coins. At $3.50 an hour, did they expect me to be carrying around bags of gold on my hip? Seriously did these people just carry around bags of coins?

???

After I let out some steam bitching and moaning (or should I say, MONA-ing) about the lack of credit card facilities available on parking meters, I got some helpful info from a MONA staff person who told me there were 8 and 10 hr parking slots available, but it was a good 10 minute walk from the ferry pick up point.

Fine. Fine fine fine.

We headed there, scrounged around for gold coins, and finally, FINALLY, found a park!

Baby girl had repeatedly denied food, I’d had to force a sandwich down her during a small lunch, and she was so, so tired.

It seemed like the idea of going to MONA, wasn’t meant to be.

But alas. We GOT THERE.

We boarded the ferry, talked with the staff, and while revelling in some gorgeous and breath-taking riverside views on the other side, also wandered around the dark corners and twists and turns of this most eclectic and thought-provoking museum, holding baby girl’s hand and carrying her (because it was a tad scary).

IMAG3146

A day that was so hard to come by, was a unique experience that we came to treasure. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but sometimes, you need to do the best with what you’ve got.

Baby girl crashed enormously once we were back at our place… and yet she still said through squinty and teary eyes as she lay on the couch watching her Tangled DVD…  “best boat ever.”

🙂

IMAG3152

#899 Hello August my old friend

A new vibe today.

Waking up, August.

The mood had lifted. The sunshine was out in full force. Smiles were on. Decisions were made. Things progressed.

The skies, were BLUE.

IMAG2343

Ahh. Just like that. Leaving more of Winter behind us, with more good times, gorgeous rays, and happy memories before us.

And, BIRTHDAY month.

Just like that. A new day. A new month. A new mentality.

Bring it on.

And it even started with a ♥

IMAG2348

#897 This too shall pass

This Winter is dragging on. I thought a saw some relief days ago, but just as quickly it has vanished.

The days are long, dark, cold and windy. The heater is our only respite.

My child chooses to argue with me relentlessly, and I respond over-emotionally – I don’t know if it is the after-affects of the lunar eclipse that is wrecking havoc in our worlds, but times are trying.

I try to look up, but when I am reminded of repeated failure, I feel like that is ALL I know. How do you feel good when what you experience is anything but?

The slimmest of lights has me wondering. It has me with little Hopes.

My sister once owned a clock that read

“The best times and worst times have one thing in common… they never last forever.”

It’s one of those sayings that have left a forever imprint on me.

Because it’s a sentiment that lifts you up amidst times of hardship, reminding you that something good is around the corner… and it keeps you humble when you are as high as a kite, riding on the coat-tails of life and feeling the love and adoration of the world at your feet.

What goes down, must come up… and vice versa.

And just this afternoon, I noticed that it was lighter outside when baby girl finished with her usual Monday afternoon swimming lesson.

We leave at the same time each week, but today it was lighter.
IMAG2339

Well, maybe things are turning around the corner after all.

The darkness is leaving, and making room for the Light.

#868 Sunday’s ‘Bye Bye Boxes’

It’s 5pm on a Sunday. I have had a great day with the family. A great weekend in fact. The day was fun and productive, we were all in good spirits, and yet in the late afternoon, something in me switched.

It helped that Hubbie was geared up to make dinner. He had been talking bacon-wrapped marinated chicken since lunchtime, and with his music blasting out of our mini portable speaker, I knew he would be right.

Just as well, as my switch, could not be turned off so simply.

It was the stubborn OCD switch, and there were boxes that HAD TO BE UNPACKED.

Bye Bye Boxes time.

Ever since we gained an extra kitchen/hallway cupboard, the OCD bug that has lay dormant in me as I tried desperately to not freak out at the sheer volume of boxes and stuff lying crammed all over our house, well, it woke up, and like a can of worms, it cannot be contained anymore.

It doesn’t even have to be a Sunday. Hubbie doesn’t even have to be home. Just earlier in the week I was going apeshit over another hallway cupboard, reorganising it, and putting in things I had just discovered, all giddy with joy, all at the lovely time of 6pm, which is when I really should have been preparing dinner.

But like I said, I CAN’T HELP IT.

“My name is SmikG, and I am recently addicted to clearing out all of our packed boxes.”

After going through about three boxes this evening, I feel great. Plus I re-filled baby girl’s bean bag with more foam beads, which turns into a messy job even when done in the bathtub as suggested, so beware. I have two more boxes on the kitchen floor just waiting for me to get my eager hands into tomorrow, and not only am I unpacking, but I am doing the tough task of deciding, what actually stays. A lot will. But a fair bit will head off as donations, and I have been getting myself into that mental frame of mind, and reminding myself that

a) if it doesn’t give me any joy, move it on

b) just because ‘I feel bad’ about giving it away or throwing it out, does not make it a valid reason to stay

c) who gave it to me, and how long it has been in my life, is also not an indicator of its staying power – if I can take a photo of it and that be sufficient, then out it goes.

It’s a long process, but this OCD girl is finding it a fascinating and exciting one.

Just by saying –

Bye Bye Bye… Boxes.