It is actually quite amazing how our bodies have a way of communicating with us; many of us choose not to pay attention, but in their own ways, they tell us stuff. Today my body said ENOUGH! I have chosen not to pay much attention to it's desperate pleas for what ever it is desperately pleading for. All I know is, that at the end the day, it boycotted me.
After having spent a better part of the week coordinating my kids' social, sporting and events calendar, getting up to date with admin that was horribly neglected during the holidays as well as my home, that I certain was also about to boycott me, my body told me in no uncertain terms today that it had well and truly had enough.
A dear friend of mine suggested that I attempt to partake in a little activity some Mom's have the privilege of doing; Time Out. Speak English please woman I don't talk foreign!
No, seriously, she is absolutely right, but not only do I need to find this elusive time out thing, it needs to be the ultimate elusive, gym time out thing. I know I am terribly unfit as well as overweight and perhaps that is what my body is trying to tell me. It seems we, (my body and I that is) don't quite speak the same language yet, so I don't always fully understand what it is trying to tell me, however when you've reached 7pm in the evening and you pass out from pure exhaustion on the sofa before your children do (seriously, I was out COLD), I think that is a clear signal from my body to do something about our current state of affairs. (Note to self, see if Kade has done anything about the thin machine yet, perhaps while he's there he can add on an instant gym machine too.)
So, now it seems, that not only do I have the insurmountable task of attending to every body elses needs, it turns out that I have to actually take care of myself too. I mean talk about a system malfunction, has this old body of mine forgotten that we are a mother now and that kind of stuff is passed it's "all about us" sell by date?
I am seriously considering the whole gym thing, I know it sounds horribly like I don't want to do it, when in theory I really do, it is just, like the whole patience thing is a virtue I do not have, time is a thing I doubt I will ever have. The body and I have entered into talks, supporting arguments and negotiations with Mr. Hubby regarding the whole gym thing, so if I don't go.....well then I can blame my fitness woes on him. Stay tuned.
Thursday, 17 April 2008
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
Techno Mom
I (think I) am most definitely a techno age Mom. When I reflect on the days without my computer and those long lost days without cell phones, I cringe, I wonder, how on earth did we manage? Well, we're all here, most of us anyway, to tell the stories, so they couldn't have been that bad but I'm pretty grateful that we have evolved from that era of life.
I am thankfully spoilt with a techno crazed husband and we are very blessed to have most of the latest gadgets that our "nerdy" generation have now invented for our convenience. (Don't you regret teasing that poor guy in your class with the 4inch thick glasses, who is now a multi millionaire?) You get my point?
When it comes down to housework, I am ever so grateful for my dishwasher, washing machine and tumble dryer (Any "nerds" reading this please invent a automatic mop and broom!!) and I spare a thought for those poor mothers out there who have to survive without these luxuries.
(Sparing a thought here!)
It was the start of a new term of school here at the beginning of this week and I tried my utmost to get Kade's white (thank you school) shirts clean. I have no idea how kids get them into this state and I do not think I want to know, I chose to remain oblivious, however, this does not satisfy my need to get these shirts clean and show all the other Mother's out there what a capable (cough....not....cough) housewife and mother I am. After the use of some "miracle-stain-removing-over-advertised and clearly misleading product" and tossing them into my ever faithful washing machine, no less than three times, I succumb. We're off to the cleaners. No child of mine is going to wear a shirt to school that looks like it hasn't seen a washing machine since he took it off last term!
I return the next day to collect the hopefully no longer stain embedded items.
WOW, is my first reaction, I praise this clearly domestic goddess of a woman on her efforts as these shirts are probably as clean as the day the were purchased. She looks at me sideways. I continue to shower her with praise and practically insist that she give me the name of the secret potion that did this wonder work. She looks at me sideways again. What is with this woman?
My praising eases as I realise she is not really appreciating my efforts and much as I appreciate hers right now. "Well thank you very much, here's your money, but please, tell me how you managed to get these so clean." I ask one more time.
"Well Madam" looking at me sideways once again, "I just used a little OMO and hand washed them."
............hmph.........................well I guess I will just take that and shove in my techno mom posterior!
I am thankfully spoilt with a techno crazed husband and we are very blessed to have most of the latest gadgets that our "nerdy" generation have now invented for our convenience. (Don't you regret teasing that poor guy in your class with the 4inch thick glasses, who is now a multi millionaire?) You get my point?
When it comes down to housework, I am ever so grateful for my dishwasher, washing machine and tumble dryer (Any "nerds" reading this please invent a automatic mop and broom!!) and I spare a thought for those poor mothers out there who have to survive without these luxuries.
(Sparing a thought here!)
It was the start of a new term of school here at the beginning of this week and I tried my utmost to get Kade's white (thank you school) shirts clean. I have no idea how kids get them into this state and I do not think I want to know, I chose to remain oblivious, however, this does not satisfy my need to get these shirts clean and show all the other Mother's out there what a capable (cough....not....cough) housewife and mother I am. After the use of some "miracle-stain-removing-over-advertised and clearly misleading product" and tossing them into my ever faithful washing machine, no less than three times, I succumb. We're off to the cleaners. No child of mine is going to wear a shirt to school that looks like it hasn't seen a washing machine since he took it off last term!
I return the next day to collect the hopefully no longer stain embedded items.
WOW, is my first reaction, I praise this clearly domestic goddess of a woman on her efforts as these shirts are probably as clean as the day the were purchased. She looks at me sideways. I continue to shower her with praise and practically insist that she give me the name of the secret potion that did this wonder work. She looks at me sideways again. What is with this woman?
My praising eases as I realise she is not really appreciating my efforts and much as I appreciate hers right now. "Well thank you very much, here's your money, but please, tell me how you managed to get these so clean." I ask one more time.
"Well Madam" looking at me sideways once again, "I just used a little OMO and hand washed them."
............hmph.........................well I guess I will just take that and shove in my techno mom posterior!
Monday, 14 April 2008
International Sunday
Kade has been asking quite a few questions lately about other countries. I have tried to find ways to answer his questions, which thankfully, are still first grade kind of questions and are relatively easy enough to answer (I KNOW I am not smarter than a fifth grader). It did get me thinking though, of how to get the kids involved in learning a little bit about the "world out there", still keep in fun, interactive and on a level apporopriate to the ages in our household.
We have started and "International Sunday" day. Every Sunday evening we prepare a meal from a different country and whilst we all squeeze into the kitchen to all help make dinner, Mark and I tell them a little more about the country which inspired their gourmet treat for the evening. I intend on planning this a little better in the future and will attempt to get the kids to help research the unique qualities that our themed country for the week has to offer and then decorate and lay the table accordingly. The kids are quite enthusiastic about this idea and to be honest I find it a little exciting too.
Last night was Italian night and we all made pizza from scratch, kneading the dough, chopping all the toppings and grating and sprinkling all the yummy cheese. (could kick myself for not having taken pics). It was a fun evening had by all with squeals of delight when Daddy tossed his pizza dough in the air and caught it "just like a real Italian Pizza man".
If any of you would like to give it a try, the pizza base recipe that we found was really yum and produced a lovely crisp base.
Italian Night Pizza Base Recipe.
We have started and "International Sunday" day. Every Sunday evening we prepare a meal from a different country and whilst we all squeeze into the kitchen to all help make dinner, Mark and I tell them a little more about the country which inspired their gourmet treat for the evening. I intend on planning this a little better in the future and will attempt to get the kids to help research the unique qualities that our themed country for the week has to offer and then decorate and lay the table accordingly. The kids are quite enthusiastic about this idea and to be honest I find it a little exciting too.
Last night was Italian night and we all made pizza from scratch, kneading the dough, chopping all the toppings and grating and sprinkling all the yummy cheese. (could kick myself for not having taken pics). It was a fun evening had by all with squeals of delight when Daddy tossed his pizza dough in the air and caught it "just like a real Italian Pizza man".
If any of you would like to give it a try, the pizza base recipe that we found was really yum and produced a lovely crisp base.
Italian Night Pizza Base Recipe.
- 1 teaspoon dried yeast
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon sugar
- 1/2 cup warm water
- 155 g/5 oz plain flour
- 6 cloves garlic crushed (optional)
Place the yeast, salt, sugar and warm water in a small bowl. Leave, covered in plastic wrap, in a warm place for 10 minutes, or until foamy. Sift the flour into a large bowl, make a well in the centre and add the yeast mixture and garlic. Mix to form a dough. Knead on a lightly floured surface for 10 minutes or until smooth and elastic. Roll out to fit a 30cm (12 inch) greased or non stick pizza tray.
For our family of 5 we doubled this recipe. (Recipe taken from "Cooking Italian" cookbook.)
Spread the bases with a tomato sauce and let everyone have fun decorating their own pizzas. Bake in a preheated oven 200C/400F for about 20-30 minutes or until the base is cooked through.
Saturday, 12 April 2008
Home alone
You've got it right, it's the weekend and we're alone again, without Dad. I'm becoming somewhat resentful of the hours and hours and hours he spends at work. At first I started feeling sorry for our children, because they too, appear to be growing up without their father around. I tried at one stage to ensure that time with Dad, when he was at home, was just that; the kids time with Dad and I would take a back seat. Later on I began to feel that something is missing in "us", a distance that just keeps stretching wider and wider.
The "somethings missing" feeling turns into "somethings wrong" feeling, when you reach the point, that even when he is around, you find you have nothing to say to him and any ramblings on about my day to day existence is often dismissed as "bitching". I think the term refered to my life at present is cabin fever. I am not sure what is worse, the fact that this phenomenon exists or the fact that it actually has a name.
I have come to understand the term "even when in a room filled with people, I feel so alone". I try to keeps my spirits lifted and focus on the children but there are those days where even Barney's "we're a happy family" can't fix it and the teddy hospital can't heal the wounds or the hurt and scars they leave behind.
I do understand that supporting a family is a tremendously stressful task in today's age and he does do his utmost to make sure there is food on the table every night and day and for that gift, I am extremely grateful to him. I wish he would see that the gift of love, affection, and most importantly, his time is just as important, yet, somehow seems to elude us.
The "somethings missing" feeling turns into "somethings wrong" feeling, when you reach the point, that even when he is around, you find you have nothing to say to him and any ramblings on about my day to day existence is often dismissed as "bitching". I think the term refered to my life at present is cabin fever. I am not sure what is worse, the fact that this phenomenon exists or the fact that it actually has a name.
I have come to understand the term "even when in a room filled with people, I feel so alone". I try to keeps my spirits lifted and focus on the children but there are those days where even Barney's "we're a happy family" can't fix it and the teddy hospital can't heal the wounds or the hurt and scars they leave behind.
I do understand that supporting a family is a tremendously stressful task in today's age and he does do his utmost to make sure there is food on the table every night and day and for that gift, I am extremely grateful to him. I wish he would see that the gift of love, affection, and most importantly, his time is just as important, yet, somehow seems to elude us.
Wednesday, 09 April 2008
Patience is a virtue I do not have
I haven't been able to focus on too much at the moment, I am still trying to come to grips with my soap opera style life that is playing out before me. The only problem with this script is that future episodes are being kept well under wraps and I am taking a little strain amid all the excitement and uncertainty. *John called me back today and I was pleased to at least hear that I have been ruled out as a psycho stalker. He is meeting with our Father this weekend to discuss the details of *me*. I must admit it still concerns me that I may have caused a bit of an upset in what he considered to be his average every day life. It appears that his curiosity of me is as heightened as mine is of him and it irks me slightly that we live in two different cities miles and miles apart.
Truth be told and for those of you who know me, this may come as no surprise; patience is not a virtue that I have been blessed with and having to wait until after the weekend for any news is like suffering a slow death. I have two fears; the first was that he may have passed on (the old man is no longer a spring chicken), thankfully I know now, that is not so and my second fear is my greatest fear; his rejection. I am not sure how I would cope with that. It has taken me so long to finally get this close to having contact with him that to go through all this and have him not want to know me or meet his grandchildren would cut me to the core.
Why do I bother? I am not sure. Why haven't I just forgotten about the person who appears (in my opinion) to have forgotten about me? I don't know. Why am I putting myself through this? I really cannot say. It is just something I have to do, get it over with and out of my system, no matter what the outcome. I fantasize what the outcome may be; the happy reunion, the smiles, the hugs, the I've-waited-so-long-to-see-you-again-my-lost-child, his acceptance, his love. In truth, reality tends to turn on unsuspecting souls and bite like a rabid bitch so I'm trying to teach myself to hope and pray for the best but to possibly expect the worst, that way hopefully the outcome won't end up too disappointing.
*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.
Truth be told and for those of you who know me, this may come as no surprise; patience is not a virtue that I have been blessed with and having to wait until after the weekend for any news is like suffering a slow death. I have two fears; the first was that he may have passed on (the old man is no longer a spring chicken), thankfully I know now, that is not so and my second fear is my greatest fear; his rejection. I am not sure how I would cope with that. It has taken me so long to finally get this close to having contact with him that to go through all this and have him not want to know me or meet his grandchildren would cut me to the core.
Why do I bother? I am not sure. Why haven't I just forgotten about the person who appears (in my opinion) to have forgotten about me? I don't know. Why am I putting myself through this? I really cannot say. It is just something I have to do, get it over with and out of my system, no matter what the outcome. I fantasize what the outcome may be; the happy reunion, the smiles, the hugs, the I've-waited-so-long-to-see-you-again-my-lost-child, his acceptance, his love. In truth, reality tends to turn on unsuspecting souls and bite like a rabid bitch so I'm trying to teach myself to hope and pray for the best but to possibly expect the worst, that way hopefully the outcome won't end up too disappointing.
*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.
Monday, 07 April 2008
This is your Sister speaking
I have been thinking a lot of my father lately, I have never had much contact with him in my life, yet I have this yearning to want to have him a part of it for some reason. It may have something to do with the fact that I am now married with children, which he doesn't know yet. It is an urge I have never been able to let go. I have spent a better part of the last 10 years trying to find him.
I have always known that my father had another child with a woman he had dated after he and my mother went their separate ways. For some inexplicable reason while aimlessly tapping away on Facebook this morning, I typed in his name........There he was
The brother I have always known I have, but have never laid eyes on or met. By chance his profile is accessible and I am able to peek into his life and curiosity gets the better of me when I notice a work address and phone number........
I spent the next two hours wondering what to do with this new found information. This is the closest I have been to finding my father in years; I panic. Fear grips me, what do I say?
I pluck up the courage to call a few hours later.........
me "Hello, is this so-n-so?"
him "Yes, speaking"
me "My, name is Tanya, I am "fathers name" daughter"
him "Who's daughter?"
me "Father's name"
him "Oh really, well that would make you my sister, wouldn't it?"
me "I guess it does"
him to friends in the background..."hey guys, hows this for a mind f*#k, I just found out I got a sister!"
I'm confused, he didn't know about me? how could he not know about me?
I have ended up gripped with anticipation and a little resentment.
Anticipation; waiting to hear back from them, it appears my father is still alive and well. New Brother is going to discuss "this" with our father, give him my number (probably make sure I am not a physco stalker) and he or they will call me back.
Resentment; the poor guy seemed completely taken aback and while I have known my entire life that he existed, clearly this was not the case on his end. He didn't have a clue. I felt a little guilty; I mean face it, I called some poor unsuspecting soul out of the blue with a "hey bro this is your sister, can I have Daddy's phone number please". Thirty two years into his life he finds out that he has a sibling. Why didn't he know about me? Is my Father ashamed that I exist? I am not sure what to make of it.
New brother was extremely sweet on the phone considering the circumstances and the news he'd just be dealt with. "I am not sure if you have made my day or ruined it." He told me.
We will have to wait and see. Only time will tell if I did the best or most idiotic thing of my life today.
I have always known that my father had another child with a woman he had dated after he and my mother went their separate ways. For some inexplicable reason while aimlessly tapping away on Facebook this morning, I typed in his name........There he was
The brother I have always known I have, but have never laid eyes on or met. By chance his profile is accessible and I am able to peek into his life and curiosity gets the better of me when I notice a work address and phone number........
I spent the next two hours wondering what to do with this new found information. This is the closest I have been to finding my father in years; I panic. Fear grips me, what do I say?
I pluck up the courage to call a few hours later.........
me "Hello, is this so-n-so?"
him "Yes, speaking"
me "My, name is Tanya, I am "fathers name" daughter"
him "Who's daughter?"
me "Father's name"
him "Oh really, well that would make you my sister, wouldn't it?"
me "I guess it does"
him to friends in the background..."hey guys, hows this for a mind f*#k, I just found out I got a sister!"
I'm confused, he didn't know about me? how could he not know about me?
I have ended up gripped with anticipation and a little resentment.
Anticipation; waiting to hear back from them, it appears my father is still alive and well. New Brother is going to discuss "this" with our father, give him my number (probably make sure I am not a physco stalker) and he or they will call me back.
Resentment; the poor guy seemed completely taken aback and while I have known my entire life that he existed, clearly this was not the case on his end. He didn't have a clue. I felt a little guilty; I mean face it, I called some poor unsuspecting soul out of the blue with a "hey bro this is your sister, can I have Daddy's phone number please". Thirty two years into his life he finds out that he has a sibling. Why didn't he know about me? Is my Father ashamed that I exist? I am not sure what to make of it.
New brother was extremely sweet on the phone considering the circumstances and the news he'd just be dealt with. "I am not sure if you have made my day or ruined it." He told me.
We will have to wait and see. Only time will tell if I did the best or most idiotic thing of my life today.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I have tried to put together in words how absolutely desperate I have been feeling of late. Desperate for some quiet, desperate for some peace, for some solitude. I had put it down to the visit of Scarlet O Hellraiser, yet the more I try to bring some peace into my life the more desperate I find myself feeling. Then the guilt sets in; how can I wish for something other than the beauty and wonder of my beautiful children and family that I have right here with me? How can I be so ungrateful? Then self pity sets in followed by confusion and self loathing.
My husband has spent the better part of the last two months travelling and has spent all of one weekend in the last six at home. The pressure of holding the fort is becoming insurmountable to say the least. When my Mother comes to stay and help it often brings on a mixture of emotions; gratitude for a little assistance and some "grown up" company, however she does not always support or respect my mothering ways and shows it; reprimanding me and debating my disciplining techniques right in front of my children, which results in them getting away with anything, because if Mom says no Granny will more than likely say yes. In my fragile Scarlet O Hellraiser state, I am not able to deal with that. The day usually ends with me driving her home and getting bomb blasted for the entire half hour trip there on what a terrible mother I am, how my children will grow up scarred and abhor me, and I spend the next half hour trip driving back home in tears.
My husband asked what on earth is wrong with me, the answer was a mumbling through sobs and tears. When he finally asked what he can do ....just give me some time out, an hour or two, a day being pampered at a spa and if I can milk it for all I am worth a weekend on a deserted island with a chef, maid and butler waiting on me hand and foot.
My husband has spent the better part of the last two months travelling and has spent all of one weekend in the last six at home. The pressure of holding the fort is becoming insurmountable to say the least. When my Mother comes to stay and help it often brings on a mixture of emotions; gratitude for a little assistance and some "grown up" company, however she does not always support or respect my mothering ways and shows it; reprimanding me and debating my disciplining techniques right in front of my children, which results in them getting away with anything, because if Mom says no Granny will more than likely say yes. In my fragile Scarlet O Hellraiser state, I am not able to deal with that. The day usually ends with me driving her home and getting bomb blasted for the entire half hour trip there on what a terrible mother I am, how my children will grow up scarred and abhor me, and I spend the next half hour trip driving back home in tears.
My husband asked what on earth is wrong with me, the answer was a mumbling through sobs and tears. When he finally asked what he can do ....just give me some time out, an hour or two, a day being pampered at a spa and if I can milk it for all I am worth a weekend on a deserted island with a chef, maid and butler waiting on me hand and foot.
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