#983 Holding out

I kind of made a realisation today. The kind that helps you, to keep hanging on.

It has been an interesting two years.

I say that with happiness, utmost respect, yet also, supreme diplomacy.

Our life has been turned upside down in these past two years. Things have gotten interesting, and things have also gotten harder.

There have been many times where I have had to remind myself, and Hubbie, that this is a passing phase.

ALL of life is. Nothing will ever stay the same, for too long. Give it an absolute max of about 2 years. At the most. Something always shifts.

I remember when I was pregnant, and Hubbie and I were sharing my car to get to work. I’d be standing at the bus station, waiting for this highly unpredictable mode of transport to arrive (anytime, sometime that decade) and muttering ‘when will I be able to drive without waiting again?’

Now, we have our own cars.

I remember the nights of holding a crying and unsettled baby girl. I would stand in her dark room, only the hallway light illuminating the space from the slightly ajar door, thinking of my work colleagues.

I would imagine them sleeping. They would go to work all refreshed after their 7-8 hours sleep, and enjoy the morning cafe-ing away.

(I told them that too, after I came back from my maternity leave.)

I remember staring out the window of our old place, wondering if I would ever have a view that showed me something other than trees and brick houses. A nature strip that wasn’t littered with other people’s cars. Neighbours that actually slept at midnight in the middle of the week.

Now… my wildest dreams have been succeeded. My view is that of the water. I watch the sunset go down over it. No one is even close in our front of house vicinity, and the only time I hear the neighbours is occasionally post 4pm when the primary school kids start practicing with their basketball.

My how things change.

And it seems to happen, in about 2 year phases. We’ve had some things bugging us for a little while… but what I realised today, is that our 2 years are almost up. We are almost there. Nothing ever lasts forever, and that accounts for not only the best times, in order to keep you humble…

But it accounts for the hard ones too. To lift you up and help you keep going when things feel too difficult.

So today, I am grateful. For hanging on. For holding out.

Because I can seriously feel it in the air. We are almost, there.

 

#710 Secret good news

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Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

My gratitude today comes from the happiness of another.

Because you see, someone pulled me over this afternoon, and said with a broad wave of their hands “I’m pregnant!”

And I stared at her in shock and awe, and ultimate critique, trying to work out if what she was saying was actually true.

“Are you serious?” I squinted at her.

“Yes.”

“You’re not joking?” I asked solemnly.

“No.”

“You’re pregnant?” I was now incredulous.

“Yes.”

I gasped in disbelief and happiness, giving her a big hug and proceeding to say “oh my God,” and “you’ve blown me away” about 100 times through hurried, intense and excited conversation, for the next 10 minutes.

I was in absolute shock and wonder, the epitome of a babbling idiot as I wrangled with my thoughts amongst it all.

“OH MY GOD!”

Because this wasn’t only pregnancy news…

Not only was this friend, pregnant…

But she was a friend, who I didn’t think was trying to get pregnant.

Also, she was a friend, who was in a serious relationship, yet I hadn’t thought pregnancy was in the immediate future for them.

She was a friend, who was also, a work colleague.

And this work colleague, was in a relationship with a man that not many people knew about…

This work colleague and her partner had kept their relationship under wraps, especially at work…

Because her partner, worked with her. With us!

OH THE DRAMA!

I couldn’t take it! I was dying. Can you understand why I was dying?! I had already known about the relationship early on, as she has confided in me many things, just as I have to her over the years, and she was one of the first at work who I told that I was pregnant, all those years ago… and now, she was telling ME.

That she was pregnant. Oh my God.

I was over the moon for her. She deserved it.

No, really. She deserved it.

She really, truly deserved this amazing blessing, because in recent years she had had a few very hard spells.

I had felt for her on so many an occasion, but didn’t know how to help. All I could do, was listen, and try to lend some advice.

And as all good friends do, bitch and whinge and moan with her.

My faith in Karma and life, is further cemented by this news. I don’t know why bad things happen. I don’t know why there are bullies, and aggressors; subsequently I don’t know why there are people who are harassed and victimised. And I certainly don’t understand how when someone turns to you for help, you can turn to the side of evil, and ignore their plea, instead going with the majority, with the laugher, with the mockers and the sheep and the boring old FLOCK.

But this news today… it is a LONG time coming.

My work colleague has been through so much. And this news is just proof to me, that eventually, your deeds catch up to you, whether they be good, or bad.

Her good deeds have paid her dividends. She got herself the guy, and now she got herself a baby 🙂

And for the ‘others?’ There is no greater revenge than success and achievement.

Did she go out to seek retribution, no. But the beautiful thing is, the Universe evened it ALL out for her.

:):):)

#566 Messages from the Coffee cup

I have a LONG history with it.

When I was 10, the day after my sister’s wedding my parents threw a huge, informal backyard party at their place for our closest family and friends. There were a lot of people on that sunny January day, and being the excited kid (and flower girl, thank you very much) that I was, I went ape-shit.

Come the fading hours of sunlight, and my tummy was aching. It was a phase of life where if I jumped or ran about too much after eating, it all came up.

And so it all came up.

While everyone was singing and dancing into the night, the sounds of a folk accordion echoing out to me from the garage, I lay in my room feeling like absolute shit. Not only did I actually feel horrible, but I felt even worse to be missing out on ALL THE FUN.

Oh the agony.

My parents brought me a cup of black coffee. No sugar. The plan?

“Drink it. It’ll make you better, one way or another…”

Yep, it was the other. I threw up some more.

My first taste of real coffee. Coming up.

I grew acquainted with it in another way when I was 13, and on my first overseas trip with my parents. Coming from a fairly superstitious European background (and at that age being absolutely obsessed with what the future would hold) I was delighted to no end to find out that my new most favourite aunty over there, could read coffee cups.

Basically an espresso-sized coffee would be prepared for you, using really fine freshly ground coffee beans, and then it was combined with water and brought to a boiling heat before serving.

This was more pleasant. It had sugar. Sure it was bitter and very strong, but I mean, I had to know if that guy I had just met I was going to EVER SEE AGAIN, so I would have drank a sample of someone else’s saliva if necessary for that information.

My aunty would peer into the base and sides of the coffee cup once it had been turned upside down. You see, the thick syrupy part of the coffee that remained on the bottom once it had all been drank, well that was the bit you worked with. Because you would grab your all-important saucer (they have a use, yes), place it on top of your coffee cup, and then with a swift 180 degree turn flip it over and rest, allowing the thick coffee syrup to gently drip its way down the walls of your inverted coffee cup.

I loved the information I got. It was mostly what I always wanted to hear. Some favourable ‘love’ news. Oooooh! Did it come true? I’m not sure, probably not. But it made me happy, made me believe, and I never stopped asking for coffee readings.

Fast forward to today. I actually drink coffee for enjoyment, not just for the sake of knowing my future. I think it’s better that we don’t know some things… that I’ve learnt the scary way. But tonight while at my parents place, Mum made me, Hubbie and my Dad a coffee, and as I drank it, I just couldn’t help myself…

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Flip!

It’s not that I necessarily know what every sign or symbol means in coffee reading. I try to decipher them based on my own knowledge of dream symbols… I figure they might be the same. You scan the walls and base of the cup once the grounds dry, and try to make out any figures…

I immediately found a person on a motorbike. Leaning forward as if trying to get away. And closely next to it is a sweet dog’s face.

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Can you see what I’m looking at? That cluster of black near the top, that is a person leaning forward in a motorbike. And beside it near the bottom of the bike, are some dots: two perfect eyes, a nose and a mouth, and the nose is even within a darker area, representing the muzzle of the dog. The dog is smiling, which is good.

I looked it up in my parents old-school dream journal (of course they have an old-school dream journal) and I couldn’t find any mention of a motorbike or bike for that matter, but it was noted that a dog was good, and if it was at the base of the cup, it suggested a good friend in your home.

There was also a tiny heart which I was unsure of… look again to the left side of the cup, tilt the photo 90 degrees to the right, and there it is… tiny love heart.

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Also a good sign.

I like good signs.

(Can you see anything else? Let me know!)

Anyway I love it. I love what this little tradition reminds me of. Wonderful events, memorable people, and particularly, one of the best times of my life…

Why wouldn’t I want to keep returning to it?

Yes, it is all a bit of fun, but I do strongly believe that there is some truth to it too…

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See that photo? This was taken a month before I found out I was pregnant with baby girl.

A BIG HEART.

Take that as you will 🙂

#365 A whole year!

It’s officially been done folks – I’ve been doing this insane thing, called ‘an item of gratitude a day’ for a whole year! No breaks, no mishaps, although sometimes I completely forgot to post in the busy-ness of life, but then soon made up for it immediately afterwards… despite all of life’s many ups, and many downs, I’ve nailed this MOFO to the wall.

One year down.

Just the rest of my entire life to go.

Sigh. But yay too!

And it all started with a God-damn car crash.

Not only does today mark a year of this blog, but there were two other significant happenings, on this February 23rd:

  1. I started exercising again. It happened during my new-found ‘me’ time in baby girl’s 5-hour kinder block, and it has been something that has been on my mind for a while. You know when you just aren’t happy with ‘things?’ Well the only way to change it, is to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. And I took action today. AND I felt awesome.
  2. I just literally found out that someone dear to me is pregnant. So, it all feels very poignant and happy and memorable, and I am just stoked to the point that I will fall into a heap from the excited exhaustion soon.

That’s it peoples. I am happy. And mostly, I am grateful.

That’s the whole point, isn’t it?

 

 

#154 New tan boots

Simple and materialistic today, but I got some boots and I’m not even excited. I’m relieved.

These boots have been about, let me see… one, two, three, FOUR years in the making.

I didn’t put off their purchase for lack of anything… well kind of.

At first, I was pregnant. I thought ‘I won’t buy boots now. I’ll be practical and buy me some new shoes after baby, next Winter.’

Then, I was with new baby. And I thought ‘I have no time to go looking for freaking boots! Next Winter.’

Then, I was busy adjusting back to work, while still busy at life. ‘Boots, what boots? Next Winter.’

Then I had time, but ‘All the boots are crap? Why do they have sky-high heels or flat-arsed soles? Happy medium, anyone? Next Winter.’

Now, I was DETERMINED. And this Winter, today, I got these beauties on sale.

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Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful. But seriously, this thing took way too long. I should have just bought the damn boots four years ago, and gotten myself a brand new pair today. No yesterday. I’ve done the very thing I never do anymore: put off any type of joy or fulfilment or happiness or satisfaction of any kind in any medium, just because I think it’s best to save it for later/a better day/a perfect scenario.

*cough (bullshit) cough.*

The moral of this story? Next time I’m preggers, I’m buying a pair of bright red super-high and shiny heels, just because.

 

#135 My dancing girl

She’s not only my baby girl. She’s my dancing girl.

She loves music. It makes me so happy, I can’t even express how much. Not only because both Hubbie and I love our music and a good partay, but there was a time when I was seriously worried that my unborn child would be affected by the stress in our life back when I was pregnant. I was worried that the trauma would bring her into the world a scared, angry, affected child.

I am so grateful that nothing can be further from the truth.

The last few days she has been spontaneously dancing and clapping to Prince in the car, and calling out to us if we don’t join in. She runs up to the stereo speaker each night and points, telling us to put on the music so that she can dance. When we do, she jumps around wildly, waves her arms about in a ‘come on!’ motion, and just goes crazy. We look at her like ‘what are you on? Can we have it too?’ before joining in on her shenanigans and turning the kitchen space into a dancefloor.

And even when she had the cold (and she still is getting over an annoying nose – blocked vs runny) she still has the energy and willpower to run into the room screaming with joy when she hears the music come on.

She is our inspiration. I want to be like her when I grow up.

 

#128 Baby girl’s resilience

It’s probably the reason she slept a whole of 3 hours in a late afternoon nap the other day. We couldn’t wake her up, for about an hour, despite two loud TVs, rotating owls singing musical tunes above her portacot, all the lights on, and my incessant calls to her.

She must have needed it.

I was apprehensive coming home from work today. She had been put down for a nap, and I was on guard, wondering if the dry throat and cough I had woken up with this morning would also present itself in her.

She slept solidly for 2 hours. She woke happily. But when she called out to me, I heard the rasp. And then there were a few coughs.

She was clearly showing signs of the cold. The dreaded freaking Winter cold. The hardest month for me is always July, mid-Winter, and on this the first day of that miserable month, I woke up sick. With Baby girl sounding like she’s shelving a frog somewhere in the depths of her throat.

And yet, as the night wore on, it was ME getting weaker and crankier, baby girl happily dancing, playing and even eating all of her dinner. We wrestled a bit, and she proceeded to jump off her Dad’s desk and onto his lap (a really BAD habit). She is a picture of joy.

This girl has been a trooper before she was even born. Developing inside of me, my repetitive mantra to her was that she was protected. She was in my ‘cocoon.’ At a time of sickness and loss and death and deep turmoil and depression, she withstood all of that, and came into the world, a happy baby.

I am so grateful to my trooper. That was my nickname for her in my womb; that is my nickname for her now, and forever more. I see her prancing around, screaming with her broken voice at Daddy to wake up from the couch. She is not phased that her voice is like that. She could care less.

She goes on.

When I am whinging that I’m weak, and tired, and I have to do everything, I look at that girl and think ‘wow. What an inspiration.’

Chin up.