#881 New pjs

Can we all give a ‘hell yeah’ to pjs?!

They are fairly underwhelming when it comes to comparing them to everyday clothes you buy and wear in the general public. For this reason, I think a lot of people don’t like to spend much money on something that quite frankly, no one but those under your very own roof will see.

I am not one of those people.

Up until recently, my destination sleepwear store of choice was Mr Alexander himself, Peter. I have several winter and summer sets in my top drawer, and consider them an investment, because let’s face it, you wear them over and over and over again.

And I don’t care if no one sees them but my family. Because the most important person sees them day in and day out – ME. I need to feel good and feel comfortable, and looking good is part of the feel-good package.

These have always been my views, and they still are.

But recently, something in me has shifted. Because I’ve noticed, just a little wear and tear on some of my trusty pieces… worn out knees… a slowly widening hole in the armpit…

And I questioned myself “should I step out of my PA circle and buy, another brand of sleepwear?”

Shock horror! Bedtime blasphemy!

And, days ago, I did.

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Now I am not saying I am boycotting Peter’s team, no siree. But considering a lot of their sets can be close to $100, I chose a pant and top combo from Cotton On Body for a mere $40, and the leg warmers on the bottom of my pants are far superior than those from Peter!

:-O

I am grateful for the abundance of sleepwear places we can go to to get our sleepy-time bedwear, and that there is such a great selection to choose from, to accommodate all budgets and bodies.

So, Peter. I still love you. But I think, maybe just for a little bit, we should start seeing other people…

Honestly, it’s not you. It’s all ME. 🙂

#875 Sunday funday BIG day

Today’s super BIG day started at the super wee early hour of 5am.

And it wasn’t accidental or by unwanted force – no, the wake up call was all instigated by ME.

Crazy huh? Yeah, I know. I even set the alarm and EVERYTHING.

If it hadn’t been for the mammoth day ahead, my wake up call would have been an hour earlier… but alas, I needed some sleep. I knew what was ahead of us, and yet I also knew that I couldn’t miss out on possible celebrations…

So I left my phone on silent on the bedside table as I went to bed on Saturday night, the FIFA schedule and results up on my internet browser, so that when the alarm did wake me at 5am, I would see the half-time scores of the FIFA game playing right then.

I figured if my team were losing by a big margin, I would keep on sleeping.. anything close in competition, and it meant wakey wakey for me.

It read Croatia – 1: Russia – 1

Damn. Kind of. RIP sleep. It would have to come another day.

So my first gratitude of the day came after several dozen heart attacks through the roller coaster of a match, where FINALLY Croatia won in yet another penalty shoot-out!

Guys! What are you doing to me?!?! :):):)

There was no point in going back to bed. Because there were places to be.

The first show of the day brought with it my second gratitude.

Lah Lah’s Big Live Band 10th Birthday show. Can I just reiterate how amazing they are? It certainly isn’t the first time we have seen them or been up close and personal… but not only did Tom Tom the drummer willingly and of his own accord sign all of the to drums before the show, but Lah Lah added to it with her own signature, on the drum and on the mini doll.
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My third gratitude of the day came with the realisation of an exhibition I have been longing to see. The thought of works from New York being shown outside of the States and in Australia was reason enough on its own, but knowing I could see up close and personal some incredible and influential art, one of which is a favourite of mine in both artist and painting, was an opportunity I couldn’t ignore.

My favourite, (top right) ‘The Persistence of Memory,’ by Salvador Dali. Did you know Dali used the hypnagogic method in helping to inspire his artwork, whereby he would take his daily siesta holding a spoon above a plate… and when it fell, it woke him, taking him from the grey area between awake and sleeping, this pre-sleep stage that provided him with the most fantastical images of the unconscious world.

Crazy. My kind of crazy though. 😉

And last but not sleep… the final gratitude of the day. From merely a decade of Lah Lah, to a century of Disney on Ice!

 

The best parts? Discovering our seats were THE BOMB, along with watching baby girl act out with absolute glee all of the Frozen scenes, pure joy for her since she was dressed as the Ice Queen herself 🙂

And right now, I am pooped. It was an amazing day, a BIG day, but I need balance.

Tomorrow, I might have to do BIG NOTHING.

And I will be BIG grateful for it 🙂

#869 Late night soccer

Just as well I brought the hat home last Friday.

It had been in my old room, at my parents house. Just as I have been purging and sorting through my own stuff, so too have my parents been trying to purge – themselves of my stuff. LOL.

I always said I would tend to the big pile of childhood and teenage accumulation and mementos that I had left at their place when I first moved out. That promise turned into a faraway and not very concrete date, and so my parents took it upon themselves to take everything out of hiding and line it up accessible and for me to see in my old room.

Every time I am there, I go through a little more. I came across some carnival hats that baby girl was enamoured with… I thought ‘fine.’ There’s many things I am bringing home, simply because I am not sure of what to do with it, but I feel that I should really be throwing it away.

The hat, is not the case.

Because the hat, is from the homeland. It holds my parents roots, and is an emblem of where I hail from.

The discovery of the hat was so timely, because I was able to hold it near and dear to me, during the viewing of the Soccer, very very late (or very very early, whichever way you roll) last night/this morning.

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Croatia has progressed into the second round of finals in the FIFA world cup. I always said if they did get this far, then I would stay up/get up early, and watch. I knew baby girl having school holidays would make it easier – no early start and subsequent running around after a 3-hour sleep due to Soccer match… so very very early this morning, that’s what I did.

I had a preorganised massive blanket on the couch to wrap myself in. Little did I know it was the coldest night of the year, but I was all tucked up and cosy, the only light coming from the guys on the green field and the soft glow of our hallway.

In those 2 and a half hours, I learnt a bit. I didn’t think I would. I picked up strategies and things about the game which I had never noticed before. I got emotional, my head lifting from the pillow in anticipation when a goal was near; I whispered “damn!” at missed opportunities; and I also nearly fell asleep several times.

I am more sleep ambassador than a soccer one.

But it was the memories and the times I had spent watching the World Cup before, that led me to this night. I remember my Dad staying up late, and me sitting with him, trying to work out the game. Asking him questions. Things about the goalie, and how hard his job was. All of this came flooding back to me, the time I spent with my Dad watching this sport, excited about the rare late nights, and the bonding that I didn’t realise I was partaking in, ’til just last night.

And there was more. I remembered World Cup soccer parties at my sister’s place. The excitement of driving across town at midnight to watch the tournament take place. I remember sleeping in my bed at 3am, and the phone ring because Croatia had just progressed into another round, and my sister across town was calling to talk to my Dad, who was watching on our side of town.

“Sorry SmikG,” she said. “I’m calling for Dad.”

So casual, yet so novel. It was fascinating, how this event turned all our lives upside down.

And then when Croatia did make 3rd place in that same year, the happiness the people experienced and devoted themselves to, awoke something in me.

A deep curiosity for World Cup Soccer. Now, it was going to become a ritual.

Years later when Australia made the World Cup, remarkably it was Croatia they faced in one-play off. Although I couldn’t really lose in this scenario – ‘homeland’ team, playing ‘home’ team – I nonetheless went for the regional underdog, while Hubbie, then BF, was happily cheering for the land down under.

Our rules were: take a shot when your team makes goal. And run around the house with the national flag wrapped around you.

We did it.

Meanwhile on the other side of the world, my parents were in Croatia, their native home, watching the very same game. They would wince when Australia faltered, silently cheering and smiling with glee when they moved ahead, noticed by my uncle who said to them

“Why, you’re cheering for Australia, not Croatia!”

That’s because Australia was their real home now.

Or maybe it had to do with going for the underdog in their current location, just as I was doing, cheering for Croatia to win as I sat in my Australian house.

I never remember who won. I don’t even care. All I remember are the memories.

I am not a soccer devotee. I will not claim I know all the players’ names. I will not pretend to watch soccer at any other time for the next 4 years after this event.

But I am a fan of where I come from. And as long as Croatia will feature in this 4-yearly event, so too will I haul my ass out of bed in freezing cold Winter temperatures, and remember, the memories from before.

For those keeping score… my ass-hauling last night DID pay off. Croatia won. In an epic extra-time plus penalty shoot-out setting. They won on the last kick!

Incredible. And if all I remember from this World Cup is…

coldest night

reminiscing on the past

cuddled up on the couch

Hubbie joining me post 6am before heading off to work

and then cheering happily because they had won (and I was going back to bed!)

then that would be enough.

#857 Running late to the skies

My alarm goes off at 5am. I sleepily turn it off, in an effort to not wake up Hubbie any more than I need to, because he, unlike me, can sleep in.

I tell myself I will get up. I will get up. Just a few more minutes. It is sooo cold. I’m warm now, but when I get up, the icy air will hit me hard. Just a few more minutes…

I look at the clock. It is now 5:27am.

“F^&k!” I whisper, throwing the covers off me.

If it was just the 15 or so minutes later I’ll be, that’s fine, I think. I will at worst be at work 5 minutes late. No biggie.

But then, something happens.

THE MONASH FREEWAY happens.

There are two incidents, both near the start and end of my Monash journey, so that I end up anticipating a good 30 minute late start to work.

It’ll be ok, and I won’t get in trouble… I just hate it.

Even so, when I park my car before the 10 minute walk over to the building, I spot something. I have to take out my phone, and SNAP!

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Being late was worth it, for that sky.

Soon, it is the end of the day. I jump into my car eagerly. I want to go to a nearby shop on our side of town that closes at 5:30pm. If I get home by 4:30, we have about an hour.

But then, something happens… again.

Yep, you guessed it… the freaking Monash freeway.

Multiple incidents and who knows what else forecast my trip as taking an extra half an hour to get home, so I take an alternative route, that gives me all manner of stress and hell, but I manage to make it home, a bit later than thought, but still, we all run out to the shop.

We come back home after 5:30. I am tired. I have been out of the house ALL day. I am cold. I am hungry. I just want a moment to myself. Baby girl won’t stop talking to me, Hubbie is in a good mood and just can’t stop repeating himself, and all I really need is to sit down and have a few minutes of peace.

But then, I see this:

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And I SNAP!

And once again, being late is worth it, for that sky 🙂

 

#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

#844 Sick days

On the 7th day of Winter, the snowman gave to me…

My first cold for the season!

Humbug.

Sure it is a tad early to be getting all Christmas in July jovial, but apparently it ain’t early at all to be copping colds and flus from every direction I turn.

It is inescapable, really. And all the while, it is so easy to fall into the whinging and crying trap, the ‘woe is me’ and ‘I hate Winter fan club!’ (I have a list to counter that!)

But really, despite our colds, despite our flus, we are so lucky.

There are people who are really sick. I was reminded from different sources today that life is not fair, and heard repeatedly of death and serious illness and misfortune. I also received a phone call from the children with cancer charity, asking me to purchase some raffle tickets off of them. I humbly accepted.

And while I have felt worse for wear, I actually have it good. I have a roof over my head. I have heating at the touch of a finger. I have an electric kettle that boils water for my steaming lemon, honey and ginger teas, a stove for warming up milk for hot chocolates when the teas becomes mundane, and… I have blankets.

I lay down this afternoon on the couch, and baby girl came right on over to promptly cover me with the throw. She then found some more blankets from her bedroom, layered me in those, before saying with an adorable smile “Mama me look after you to get better,” before turning on her heel and leaving me to… recuperate?

What? Was this legit? I relished the feeling of peace and calm… for 2 minutes.

She came back, adamant that she was going to lie down beside me on the couch, and I shuffled over, getting squashed against the back of it. I lay there like an awkward sardine in a can, one hand outstretched over me, the other on her, as I drifted to and from sleep, both the TV in the background and the YouTube videos she was watching of kids playing with barbie dolls, drifting over to wake me up every so often.

I was awkward, I was sick, and I wasn’t really at peace. But I’d take this version of ‘sick’ any day.

#820 Kinder sickie

Use them while you can.

The sick days.

I was more than ready to take baby girl to kinder today – sure, ready as in preparation wise, even though I wasn’t quite sleep ready.

But let’s face it, I’m a Mum… when am I ever sleep ready? When do I ever get ENOUGH sleep?

But even so, when baby girl woke after 2am last night, yet again complaining of her throat/teeth, I soothed her enough to doze off again, and heading back into bed, made the call.

I turned off my alarm.

She is 4, after all. It isn’t even a sick day, if you must call it that. But she had been unwell, she had had a really big weekend with us, and in that groggy post-midnight hour, I realised with utmost clarity, that if I were to take her to kinder today, it might just be too soon, and therefore it might stuff up her entire week.

And let’s be honest here… the kinder sickie was as much for me as it was for her…

Early morning lunchbox making in a cold house?

The constant rushing and pressure of moving her to get her out the door?

The post-kinder over tired crabbiness that I cop almost every single time?

Yeah. I’ll take a sickie too thanks.