#1296 A new season of Self-care

Spring is the beginning of many things.

Growth. Renewal. Sunshine. Greenery.

It just so coincides with a decision I made only yesterday, on the first day of it, to do something new.

To look after myself.

I’ve been on a bit of a journey, a spiritual awakening of late. My normal awareness of mind, body and soul has skyrocketed to another level.

In turn, I come to the conclusion that, like my Mum always says “you are your own doctor.”

I am my own doctor.

We know, intuitively, what we need. No one else can really tell us that. Even if we do learn something from an ‘authority,’ really, something inside of us has been trying to tell us that all along… give us worldly signs… throw our body off-kilter so that we take notice…

Even, send us dreams.

There is always something there, something trying to get through.

It’s just whether we are allowing ourselves to listen or not.

I’m not going to do anything crazy. I just have a heightened awareness, and in order to nourish my body, in making mindful food choices and trying to be more active, I will also be doing things for my mind, and my soul.

Yoga.

Meditation.

Music – I find it so therapeutic, and I am actually going to be singing/dancing on my own for at least 5 minutes a day. TRUE STORY.

Laughter – nothing makes me happier than when I find a new comedian via youtube, and I sit there almost crying for about 5 minutes straight.

Nothing crazy. Nothing unattainable.

Most of it, free. 

I am going into this realistically. There are days I may not be able to do much on my list. I will forget and let go of those days.

Then there will be days that I smash it out of the park. Those are the days I will use as fuel to push me on and keep me going on my improvement pursuit.

Just tonight I sat down, for like 2 minutes because that is all I had, to do some yoga moves…

Baby girl found me.

And she saw the book I was working from, and wanted to do yoga too.

They actually do yoga in her class. I wish I was in prep again.

So I let her. Old me would have been slightly annoyed to have lost my ‘me time,’ but new SmikG said ‘let go’ and breathed in and out as deeply as I could.

Watching her do the ‘cat-cow’ as we both went on all fours, made me smile.

It threw me off my yoga focus… but I was laughing. Relaxed. Wasn’t that the point?

Yep. It sure is.

#1295 Sunday surprises

It’s a lot nicer when you don’t expect anything, and then the opposite occurs.

Something. We were happily bound to our home for the day, Sunday, the first day of Spring (yippee!) and also, Father’s Day.

Baby girl had happily helped her Dad open up his presents after our late morning breakfast, still on a high from the night before yet feeling the lack of sleep, when I got word, that our quiet day might be different.

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I had seen my Dad at my bro-in-law’s birthday the night before after all… I had seen my whole family. 

But then I heard my Mum and Dad were going to my sister’s place for a quick visit, and so then we might as well pop on by…

And what started as a very non-expectant day, had us around a table talking, laughing, and then watching the rain pour down later when the clouds decided to merge overhead.

It didn’t affect the sunset though. Just as I had been longing for Winter to be over, just as quickly it came to an end… and this seems to happen every year. June, July and the start of August feel so long, then mine and baby girl’s birthday passes and it no time – BANG!

Spring. Sunshine. Sunsets like this:

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And so the message really is… don’t expect anything. Things are that much sweeter when you think of not much at all…

#1261 Letting it all out

When was the last time you cried?

Let it ALL out?

I don’t mean a pathetic weeping. I am talking a full-fledged, soul-shaking, whole body performance that tremors with the waves of emotions like sea water crashing across the shore.

It’s obviously best done with someone you trust. Someone you love.

Even better perhaps, when you are on the phone.

You can ugly cry all you want. Screw up your eyes and let your snots hang dangerously low, let the teardrops make splatters on your pants, stain your top.

And although the beginning of such a sob session may start off as solemn, downcast, and awfully depressing… something wonderful does come out of it.

Nothing may have changed. Nothing major anyway. Buy you not only gain a different perspective from hearing someone else repeat your words, but you feel somewhat lighter too.

The load has been dispersed. Instead of one huge boulder on your back, the expression of your deepest sadness may have allowed some of that boulder to chip away, and leave instead, large stones.

And the more that you walk along, and on with life, the more likely it is that some of those large stones may slowly start to roll off…

And so on.

Nothing changes overnight… But it is the knowledge of someone lending an ear, while you also let loose, allowing the internal waterfall to pour out, that actually makes all the difference.

#1260 Sipak tea

I had a lovely moment tonight while sipping some herbal tea…

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Sipak tea, that is.

“What the hell is sipak?” you may ask.

Well firstly, it’s pronounced with a ‘sh,’ so” shi-pak” instead of “si-pak.”

And the ‘pak’ is not at all like “pack,” instead like “puck.”

So it is shi-puck.

It’s a rosehip tea. As much as I rely on coffee daily and enjoy it to no end, I am also a firm tea lover. They both have their place, rightly so. I love having a million and one teas in my pantry, regardless of whether I drink them daily, weekly, monthly, or even, yearly.

So when I finished my old sipak tea packet several months ago, I realised with dismay that the local supermarkets just couldn’t cut it.

They had all these non-European brands of ‘rosehip’ tea (eye roll)… and I just wanted to go back to my roots.

My Croatian roots. I wanted to get the bloody Croatian tea with the Cro writing and branding and only drink that one damn it.

SIPAK TEA.

I asked my Mum not long ago to get me some from her local supermarket, as they have a wide and varied selection of European specialty foods…

Today when we visited my parents, 3 packets were waiting for me. 3!

I took out my mug tonight and made myself a cuppa. It’s still rosehip but with added hibiscus flower. I tell you, I never noticed the hibiscus before, either it is new or it was never made prominent on the old packets, but it still tasted the SAME.

And it was only while sipping it that I realised the mug, cherished as it was, had come from my Mum, too.

My Mum giving me a great Mum mug. And now, traditional caj.

Talk about full circle… or should I say, puni krug. 😉

♥♥♥♥

#1222 Proud daughter

“Is she your Mum?” The red-headed kid asked me.

I laughed. “She can’t be my Mum!” I teased.

I was helping out in baby girl’s class this morning. Assisting one of the table’s as the kids tried to put into words the new ideas they had learnt just that morning… successfully helping some… yet failing miserably with others, as they literally draped themselves over chairs moaning “I don’t know what to dooooooooooo.”

Ah, kids. You just gotta… yeah. Let’s leave it there.

I was crouching between baby girl and another boy on the table when the almost red-headed kid asked me that: I knew what he had meant – he had meant to ask if I was baby girl’s Mum, not the other way around.

After my gentle joke back, baby girl nodded at him solemnly. Then proceeded to reach over and protectively give me a hug.

Awww. My heart.

She was proud. She IS proud.

I was proud. I AM PROUD. 🙂 ♥♥♥♥

#1217 Parenting under a disco ball

You know it’s hard having kids.

And a lot of parents nowadays shit me with their attitude about having them.

Because, they don’t get it, but… they want it ALL.

They wanna have kids, but they also want to have the exact same life they used to have before kids. They want mini versions of themselves, but they don’t want to do the work needed to actually raise them and be responsible about it all. They think having little people will be fun, but they want everything to be constant cupcakes, lollipops and games.

Guess what? Suck it up.

As my Mum always says… something has to give. You honestly cannot have it all. And I am a glass half-full gal talking here. And if you think you are managing to have it all…. guess what?

You are not ‘giving’ where it is important. Sorry not sorry.

What I am talking about has nothing to do with giving things up in your life. Sure, you can still do the things you enjoy… to an extent. You see, it is about a whole lot of compromise and sacrifice. Like, shitloads of it.

Things I was thinking of tonight as I was out with my family.

Because it was a family function you see, and we have no babysitters to look after baby girl for anything like this, like EVER… but also, baby girl being at the stage and age she is at, we actually want her to come with us.

So let’s say, our intentions lie somewhere there in the middle.

But boy, it is still HARD.

Especially when they find themselves pissed off for no apparent reason.

It was a roller coaster ride I swear.

It was frustrating, and tiring, and long, and honestly I was pulling my hair out at times, wanting to bash my head against the toilet cubicle wall, so shitty I became with some events of the night.

With the words ‘sacrifice’ going through my head.

So we did. In the name of looming beds, and family, and a happier child, we went home… we sacrificed. But not before baby girl pulled me onto the dance floor.

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And you see… as shit as times like this can sometimes be… that mirror ball and that girl, still make it all worth it.

All the sacrifice.

#1201 Mum’s original noodle soup

You know when you get something in your head, and you can’t get it out of there until you GET IT?

A song… a place…

A type of food?

With all this disgustingly EARLY Winter weather, I started craving my Mum’s noodle soup since about last week. I know how to make soup, but I wasn’t sure of the technique and ingredients needed to make the little dumpling-type noodles…

I called her. And then I called her AGAIN tonight.

“I’m not sure I added enough flour.”

“I feel like it’s not grating properly.”

“It’s not that firm.”

I voiced my concern but she was sure I was heading in the right direction. I hung up, added some more flour, punched the dough a bit more…

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And after grating and grating for ages (including grating my thumb) I put it all in the soup broth and it came out looking like…

shiny

 

Shiny! (Total parent/Disney reference/joke, I know).

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Ahh. It really was shiny. Clear and yummy and wholesome and pure, and I knew I had the official seal of approval when baby girl tried it and gave me a thumbs up.

Awww. But it’s not my soup. It is Baka’s soup. And though they were on the other side of town, I am so glad her soup was in our home tonight. ♥