Archive for July, 2009

Vacation

We are away at the moment which accounts for how quiet everything has been around here lately. It has been lovely having some time away with the boys and to see them so relaxed and happy.

But my health has been crap. It makes me sad. It makes me very frustrated. It makes me feel disappointed and even a little angry. I feel like I’m doing all I can to try and make it ok and nothing works now after things feeling ok for a while. Let’s just say that my body doesn’t work completely correctly. Sometimes it’s just uncomfortable. Sometimes it actually hurts. Sometimes I’m so embarrassed about it. I just wish something could fly in and make it ok. I just wish I wasn’t allowing it to affect my holiday.

I know that’s my problem. I know that this can be mind over matter. But when something doesn’t work and sometimes hurts, it’s hard to forget about it. I know other people’s bodies are failing them in far more devestating and profound ways. Ways from which they may be unlikely to recover. But it doesn’t stop my anger and my deep disappointment. 

But that’s my last word on the matter.

Happy birthday to you….

I’m writing tonight because I’m know I’m not going to have a chance tomorrow and then we’re going away and then, before you know it, this special and beautiful moment will have passed without so much as a whisper from Mumma.

Tomorrow is S’s first birthday. All day today, I’ve been madly rushing walking around, thinking of just how damn proud I am of him. Proud that he’s turning one and all the bye-bye to babyhood it entails. Proud of the cheerful, charming little boy he has become. I’ve been so busy all week, I was kinda scared of letting this moment rush by. I had bought his present (very organised of me) and had even organised some family to attend a little birthday tea tomorrow evening. But I thought his birthday would pass too quickly in the flurry of all the work I’ve got on at the moment. But today, while scarily busy and struggling a bit to breathe trying to work out when everything’s going to get done, I managed frequently to think about the first year of S’s life. Think about him and his disarming smile. Think about him and I and our ever-developing relationship. Think about the little unit he has made our family.

I whispered to him many times about his birthday tomorrow. He smiled and looked at me as though I was about to give him more toast because that’s all he was hoping I was whispering about.

He sure has changed my world. In tough, raw ways. In ebullient, joyous, life-filling-up-with-great-stuff ways.

Tomorrow marks the first year of his life and the first year of the rest of my life. My life as a mother of two beautiful, impish, open-armed, quick-to-chuckle, kiss-on-the-lips boys.

Happy birthday S! You totally. And utterly. Without question. Rock. My. World.

Away and away

I know I’ve been pretty quiet round here lately. I am crazy, crazy busy having taken on more work from another source just at the same time we had decided that I needed to pull back to focus on the boys. Ha! Isn’t that the way things work? This new work is meant to last only 8 weeks but already I have the feeling it could stretch out a bit longer so I’ll really have to reassess things then. These couple of weeks are particularly crazy so hopefully in a wee while, despite working 2 jobs and looking after two young un’s I feel a bit more balanced. Ha! Who said balance was bunk? Spot on.

I have been waiting to write all day about something in particular. Something that struck me so markedly at the time and made me think immediately, I need to blog about this.

Last night, I joined a wonderful, smart, warm, inviting group of women for another meeting of bookclub. We are all very different – in attitudes, lifestyles, looks, preferences, but we are ALL so open and embracing of everyone and everything. I paint this very flattering picture of us all because it is this wonderful atmosphere that provides the somewhat discordant setting of what happened when I made my way to the toilet.

L’s bathroom is mainly mirrors. You can’t avoid them. Even sitting on the loo. And I was. Sitting on the loo. Smiling to myself about our most recent conversation, R’s joke, B’s insight and generally appreciating it all. Then I got a glimpse of myself. Not a look, simply a glimpse; a very quick blur of brown hair and pale skin. And I knew, deep, deep down that I couldn’t look at myself at that moment. That looking at myself would make me very upset. That looking at myself would whip me so quickly away from the lovely buzz we were all enjoying that night. I knew (and when I say knew, it was something bodily, something so intrinsically known that cognition wasn’t necessary or relevant) that what I would see would be truely ugly. That I would find it ugly. That I would be shocked by this ugliness. I would hate what I saw.

And I didn’t looked. I finished. I washed my hands with my head still hanging low and I returned to the laughter and the food and the wine and the warmth. But I also knew that something terrible had happened. Something I was ashamed of. Something I couldn’t control and yet knew was somehow a huge betrayal of myself and even of everyone sitting around that table. Everyone trying hard to accept themselves and be open to others. I had been unable to look at myself because I was so scared of what I would see. Because I knew that I would be disgusted. Because I knew I wouldn’t have been able to laugh as much when I returned.

This all scared me. I can’t really make sense of it. But I do know that I felt profoundly that I was ugly. Grotesque even. And I can’t help but wonder why?