#1593 Day 95 of getting there: Winnie’s words

June 25th quote on my work daily calendar (I have several daily calendar’s around the house).

“You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

By this cuddly yellow furry dude.

Photo by Dan on Pexels.com

It was the perfect thing to hear on this day. You know when you’ve been kind of dreading something, and then you hear something to make you think differently about it all?

That was me today.

I reminded myself I was strong, constantly.

And I walked away, actually believing that.

All because of Poo.

#1573 Day 75 of getting there: yoga with Hubbie

I’ve always wanted Hubbie to join me in yoga.

But lately, he’s been the one asking me about it.

Ever since he decided to get back into basketball, he’s been trying to get super-fit for his court reappearance. But at the same time, having become obsessed with Michael Jordan even more since watching the very popular Netflix show, The Last Dance (as if he wasn’t obsessed enough already), he’s discovered something else about the man he grew up idolising…

He is really flexible.

Of course, that meant Hubbie had to be flexible too.

So tonight at about 8pm, I turned on my laptop and set up my Body by Finch account, and opened up a 13 minute yoga ‘stretch’ video.

We stood on a yoga mat, and went into pose, side by side.

GOD IT WAS HILARIOUS.

Prayer pose. Downward dog. Lower yourself into a plank. Arch up. Warrior pose. Downward dog again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Hubbie was so vocal. At almost each and every stretch he was like “OH!” so loudly. I was like “stop you’re making me laugh!” We were doing tree pose, and then dance pose, and I was there quivering from the giggles.

Oh man. Hilarious stuff.

It was so much fun to do it with someone else, and it made me realise how beneficial the class environment is. Hell, even having one person next to you to spur you on, and bounce off, is worth so much.

Even if they are yelling “OH!” for every downward dog.

Ha ha ha.

He did do very well for a first-timer, and I kept telling him to take it easy.

Rachael Finch does this for a living. We do it occasionally from the lounge room.

We will look like these two… eventually. 🙂

#1456 Pieces of straw

It crossed my mind today that maybe I should give this whole gratitude blog thing a rest.

It was just one of those days, where everything bothered me.

But somewhere in the afternoon I found some things to grasp onto, and keep me going.

A great cappuccino made by Hubbie.

Chocolate. Many pieces.

And then one of my fave movies. I put on –

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God bless art. ALL FORMS. Within minutes I was laughing as Meryl Streep’s character Julia Child was going ga-ga over buttered fish in a French restaurant.

It is an amazing movie, and Streep’s performance is phenomenal.

I think I gravitated towards this movie, and it’s the kind that always picks me up, because it shows the two stories of women who were in a slump in their life, struggling to find a place to belong, went through much difficulty and hardships to get what they wanted, but in the end…

THEY GOT THERE. THEY GOT IT.

I really needed this movie today. I cried with happiness just as much as I did with emotion.

It was the needle that helped me get out of the stack. ♥

#1383 The (no) friend game

It’s not pleasant as a parent to hear that your child hasn’t had the best day.

Worse still, when they say “I wanted to play with them and they wouldn’t let me.”

It still stings to write and think about, and this is a story in hindsight.

But it happened, and it happens, and unfortunately it’s one of those things that will continue to happen, for almost all kids at one time or another in their schooling life.

Baby girl told me the above yesterday, and it ate me up WHOLE. I feel so intrinsically connected to her that I myself was slighted by the fact that some girls hadn’t let her play with them, and she’d had to succumb to playing on her own.

Hubbie told me what he always tells me: “it’s how kids are. They can be shitty.”

Yeah, I get it. It doesn’t mean that it hurts any less.

Seriously, it is so much harder for the parents. Kids are fairly resilient. Although baby girl pointedly told me what happened, it didn’t seem to affect her mood or disposition, and I had to remember that out of all the days of the year she had been at school so far, she had said something like the above, only a handful of times.

So, where is my gratitude? Well today she told me she played hide and seek, tag, and red light green light with half her class. I was grateful to hear she had a good day, grateful that she had friends to play with, and grateful that, most of the time, she is a lot tougher than me. ♥

#1377 A serving from Mum

I got told off today by my Mum.

I liked it.

We try to be strong, try to be brave as we grow up. We try to do things on our own and not ask for help EVER… because we can do it all by ourselves.

That is a lie. Every now and then, you need help.

And every now and then, it helps to remember where you came from. From your mother’s arms. From your mother’s heart. From your mother’s deepest place of growth and nurturing.

And that in turn reminds you, how little you are. How frail and helpless and childlike you can be.

Therefore, how little you know.

I was glad to get her mock-threatening scolding tone today. I didn’t realise how much I missed it… maybe I needed it, because it reminded me I was loved.

It helps to feel little sometimes.

 

#1367 Bathing it away

I’m actually kinda surprised. After getting rained on after school drop off, and having to witness my cat totally drugged out with pupils like saucers due to his new meds… I was almost laughing today.

You know when thing after thing goes wrong, and you literally look up to the sky and say “what now?”

But I amazed myself in my strength. I thought all this crap would have worn me down… but instead, like the main character in my book says “BRING IT ON.”

Maybe I’m somehow channeling her. Maybe I’m gaining inspiration through her fictional self. Either way, I moved on from the crap, and set myself up for…

A blissful bath.

There is always a reason why I shouldn’t have a bath. There are always 58 things I should be doing instead of lying in water, alone, breathing in to my thoughts.

But I’ve learnt by now that time like this isn’t a luxury… it’s a necessity.

So. Candle light. A steaming bath. The meditative sound of a slowly dripping tap, against the backdrop of howling winds outside the window.

Steam rises above me. The air is damp. I sink into the watery cocoon and let it swallow me whole, my body submerged by all that is peaceful, all that is good.

And with it my mind and soul slide into a place where my equilibrium is restored, and everything makes sense.

 

#1155 The risktaker

What is it like to live with a risktaker?

What is it like, when that person is your husband?

They can be spontaneous. Things happen suddenly, plans change, and you have to learn to just go with the flow, and roll with the waves.

They get passionate. Passionate about big things, but little things too. Life. Music. That green shirt. Grass. It is all or nothing. The passion brings about great satisfaction and joy, but in lack of it, the days can sometimes drag on.

With passion comes the sure-fire heat. And not the type that comes from a stove. I am talking the heat of conversation, the explosiveness of words, the fuel that comes tunnelling forth with great news… and the disappointment that has to unleash with the bad.

Things are always ‘happening.’

Baby girl said to me a while back “you have to be a risktaker.” I was surprised to hear those words from her, until I realised where they had come from.

It was from school, the day before their ‘try popcorn and pineapple’ day.

But when Hubbie is a risktaker, he does things like this:

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Over 20 years post his days of climbing monkey bars. Never mind this followed some ‘casual’ drinks. Never mind he was wearing sandals that he could have toppled over in.

Never mind that our daughter was watching him with awe and amusement.

The statement “Don’t try this at home” suddenly had a whole new meaning.

“Don’t try this at school!”

But there is good. More good, than even all of the above mentioned.

Because with risktaking, there is hardly any emphasis of failure. Sure, a healthy dose of fear is there, it is natural… but it isn’t the main focus.

It is just ‘let me try this’ and if it doesn’t work out, then –

“Oh well. Now I know.”

In risk taking, you aren’t left wondering what could have been. Risk taking requires self-confidence, and being your own support group, so you can rev yourself up to go out there, reach high, and try to jump to the sky…

Much like Hubbie did today.

On the outside, as I scolded him and told him to get down, with a smiling baby girl looking up at him beside me, I may have seemed disapproving.

But in all honesty, I want her to be a risk-taker too.

And, so do I.

#958 Family comfort in team loss

Well, THAT didn’t go as expected.

It is terribly, horribly hard to watch your team lose.

The lead up, the anxiety, the anticipation and nerves and hoping and wishing and praying… it ALL comes to a head when the siren goes off.

To then watch a game where your team is winning for almost the entire time, and then lose by a measly 5 points in the end… IT IS HARD.

We went from screaming in happiness from the first 10 minutes in the game, to walking out of the room and the atmosphere going silent, bar some choice expletives aimed at the biased umpires, in the final 90 seconds.

It is HARD. Soooo hard. But what makes it somewhat easier, is the unity.

The strength in numbers. Because family gives you strength through bad times, and knowing that your pain is also their shared pain, makes it somewhat easier to bare.

We are black and white through and through. We will barrack for them when they are winning, AND when they are losing… and for us and all the other fans, it just didn’t happen today.

It is shit. But we will still take our doughnut, and eat it. Because we are the Magpie Army, and we will rise again.

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#900 Winter pruning

So, check out that number ↑↑↑

Pretty cool milestone. And so it is quite metaphorical then that on a day of reaching heights, I spent a portion of this afternoon scaling things back, chopping away what was unnecessary, stepping back, re-evaluating, and re-examining what was surrounding me.

I am talking, Winter pruning.

I have been wanting to get stuck into my rose bushes since Winter descended her icy grip around us, but alas two things kept me at arms length from the pruning shears.

  1. Freezing cold temperature, and
  2. recently, the sudden emergence of a very few small roses.

What? Roses? In Winter? This was mine and baby girl’s reaction as we discovered this very fact many weeks ago.

How did we have roses sprouting forth in Winter? I mean, as mentioned in point number 1, we certainly have had cold weather, as there was no mistakable sunshine until very recently.

I couldn’t bring myself to cut off the few roses that were there. They had come forward despite all odds, fighting fit and proving themselves the exceptional few.

I just couldn’t.

Today, a different story.

It was finally a warm day where I had time. I went outside with gloves and shears, and after a while of snipping here, and snipping there, I realised the shears were not enough.

I brought out the big gun. THE SAW.

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I was sawing like crazy at old and thick branches that were just dried out and brittle. I sawed and sawed and sawed, I must have looked like a character out of a horror movie, walking around with my yellow gloves and throwing myself into the rose bushes. Even baby girl decided it would be fun to pick up the saw when I had put it down and approach me with it, and I was all like “noooo, put it down!” trying to be as casual as I could, because let’s face it, a relaxed parent is boring, but one that is freaking out about a saw coming closer is a hell of a lot more fun and equals =

MORE SAW.

Fortunately there were no gruesome endings, other than for those brittle rose branches. It was truly a gratifying and satisfying day, I felt incredible out in the fresh air and sunshine, yet completely wrecked from it all when I finished off and walked back inside the house.

The cutest part for me though, was when it came time for me to prune off a small branch with one of those fighter roses that had sprung forth recently. Although it had shown its strength by re-appearing when it seasonally shouldn’t, it was small and starting to wither and drop it’s petals, and for the sake of pruning properly, I knew it had to go.

I had to ask baby girl though. She had explicitly stated before I started, that I was not to touch that rose.

So I explained. I said it was getting old, and the petals were falling off, and that if I chopped this one off, we could then expect lots of little baby roses to come from its path.

She thought. “Ok mama. Me not be upset.”

Awww. I cut the rose off and gave it to her, telling her she could place it somewhere, as a kind of ceremonial goodbye. She had another idea though. She looked up and down, left and right, around and around the yard, until she found an appropriate spot to –

Plant it.

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I think that is just heart-warming. The things that we think are lost and forgotten, our children think are special and worth keeping.

That is beautiful. ♥

#591 Gutsy Hubbie

He is tough, my love. Inside, he is super soft, like the sweetest marshmallow, the cuddliest bunny, or the sweetest pussycat you could ever feast your eyes on.

Yet still, he is tough as guts.

He has done tough things. Gutsy things. Brave things.

COURAGE GUTS. He woke up one day, and just decided he was going to find a new job. He was going to put himself out there, and into a field he wasn’t especially learned with, and just go for it.

He got the job.

PERSEVERANCE GUTS. He has been working 50 plus hours a week, for about 5 years now. He does this for us, for our family, so we can live a nice life. He gets up early, he works long hours, and he doesn’t complain, or whinge, or moan, when I am at home with baby girl, and he is in a cold meat room working for US.

STRENGTH GUTS. He had to get a tooth out recently. I admit, I was a tad nervous for him, but didn’t dare show it. He went into it with such strength and determination. With his usual wit, humour, and can-do attitude.

Sure, he was scared. I know he was. To know someone will be cutting into your gum, removing your tooth AND the root, while scraping off bits of bone for grafting, while you lie in the chair alert, hearing it ALL, that is freaky stuff.

I have pushed a child out, and still I say, that is freaky stuff.

But he did it, and came out of the surgery room, two thumbs up.

We sang Dora The Explorer on the way home. Her end of episode tune “We did it!”

That is his humour.

And today he showed me some more guts.

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I-CAN-DO-ANYTHING GUTS.

A couple of weeks ago he proclaimed that if the decades long underdog, Richmond team of the AFL, were to be in the finals, he would mimic the out-there hairstyle sported by one of the team’s best players. As it was, the player in question ‘Dusty’ Martin, won the Brownlow medal earlier this week, a medal awarded each year to the league’s best and fairest on field, and this was after it was confirmed that Richmond would indeed be in the final.

Why would he do this? He isn’t even a Richmond supporter. But his Dad was. And in true spirit, a nod to his father, and in acknowledging that his Dad would be excited about his team making it so far, Hubbie made a vow that he was going to get his hair done in this buzz-cut style of Mohawk-Mullet.

I had to sigh. Like when he actually told me this, I just went “mmm hmm.”

Of course I didn’t believe it.

He told me again and I started to think there was more substance to his previous crazy-happy outburst.

And then he told me his work mates knew.

And suddenly, I knew it was serious. He couldn’t back out now.

“Are you sure?” I had asked him.

“It’s only hair. It’ll grow back.”

GUTS.

And so it will. And so he did. He got his hair cut today and the feedback has been pretty spectacular to say the least.

I am proud of my Hubbie. I am proud of his guts, his can-do attitude, and the fact that he doesn’t care what people think… it doesn’t faze him at all.

And what do I think? I think it is not as bad as what I had imagined. Whether I do or I don’t though, I love this marshmallow strawberry-centred man all the same. ♥♥♥

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