Archive for the 'Day-to-day' Category


I feel a bit sweaty. The lawn is wide and well mown but dry. There isn’t a soul about. The sky is high and blue and sort of hopeful. But it doesn’t feel like autumn and I’m not dressed as though it is Autumn but I’m still a bit sticky, sweaty.

These days seem to stretch wide. And they are dry like the lawn I crossed before I opened the door. The door with a crooked open sign. The door that made me think, I’m not sure that I would want to spill my guts here. Maybe it doesn’t matter when you’re down and dry like the lawn you have to cross to open this door with its crooked sign.

These days see the sky high and blue and hopeful. To me they are just days but they are here nonetheless and I am grateful. I am managing to meander my way through with little direction, little focus. The focus seems just to be in the day; to watch myself move slowly and slightly aimlessly through them.


copyright tw collins


It’s getting a bit tough round here.

I’m looking for beautiful things.

To look at.

To make me feel a bit better.

And a bit less tired.

The boys are pushing every button we have.

And we seem to avoid looking at each other.

I feel flat when we try to negotiate the way


And he just feels angry.

The heat, oppressive

and silent,

doesn’t help at all.

Yesterday, I mentioned that the baby turns 6 months today and how far that still seems from when he is one when, hopefully, things will be easier with him.

C said, ‘that’s the difference between you and me. I just thing how great it is we’ve made it to 6 months.’

Ah, the glass. Exactly, how half full is it?

a virtue

Is patience.

At least, it is

for me.

I realised yesterday,

after a tough,

tough, day,

that I need to learn

patience in a

BIG way.

My lack


makes my life

so much


and, of course,

it’s pretty horrible

for those

around me.

My teeth are sore

from being ground


I assume from


Every unwelcome






drove me


So, without going

on and on

about how

my lack of



our rhythm,

what can I do about it?

I’m not sure


but, hell, I’m

willing to

find out.

This stuff is hard man.

So many days

I just


I wasn’t

made for

this parenting




I am continually

blown away

by the effects of fatigue.

It is like a drug which


actions, behaviours, and


I enter each day

with the best intentions


if my night has been


full of waking moments

full of feeding

full of that whinging cry

full of wet beds

full of nightmares

full of heat


full of cold snaps

I wake the next morning



that I have

to start the day.

My tone of voice is

sharp and shrill.

I snap or

I am silent and each time

I forgive myself


I’m tired.

But it’s not fair and

it’s not enough.

And little people can’t achieve

that level of empathy


How are they

to understand?

That mummy



tired and




to be


I have spent

5 years now


It’s nothing new

so I shouldn’t act

each time

with such


This is


right now.

the day the car hit the wall

My fingers are slowly slipping

And it won’t take much for me to fall.


I don’t take care.

I make too many mistakes

I won’t be what I was

I don’t concentrate.

I self-flagellate.

I cry.

I complain.

I tick over the days.

I hate not having much money.

I hate the slippery fall into debt.

I could work.

I hate that I can’t relax.

I forget to breathe.

I forget breathing is all there is.

It’s all I know.

I hate that I don’t want to be here right now.

I hate this weather, there’s no relief.

I hate that I can’t play with my 2 year old

I hate that I feel so bored, so numb.

I hate that I can’t just have moments.

I hate that I know I can change things but I don’t.

I am agitated, anxious.

I am grinding my jaw and tensing my shoulders.



I can express gratitude.

I am grateful today that

I didn’t hit anyone when I was driving

There is a breeze through the house

That my baby woke once

For coffee.

That C was with a client when I rang him with the news

That I will survive; we will.


We have food in the house

I can cry if I want to

It’s just money – even if we have only a little.


Even gardenias with their amazing perfume, still have soiled petals.


The glass is still


Half full.


I’ll do things my way


So I thought I might go for a 2 word year.

Less, and


Kind of like the yin and the yang.

A gentle equilibrium.

It felt safer doing it that way


do you know?

Since choosing,


Has definitely been more than


Funny that.

I think far more about

trying to achieve


in my life, than

trying to achieve

more play.

Who’d have thought?

We have less at the moment,

less money,

less time,

less patience.

So I’m working towards

less stress

less spent

less planned activity

to try and give

each one of us

a bit


I’m back

I’m not sure the protocol in these situations.
Am I meant to start a new blog.
My purpose is gratitude.
Which fits too neatly with half full glasses.
I’m sticking around until
I think of somewhere better,
if I think of somewhere better,
to house my thoughts.

These days we are quiet.
There are now five where there were four.
We’ve added another little boy.
Four and a half months and every day more.

The reason these days are quiet,
is because 2 little boys leave
the house early in the morning
3 days a week.
These days are my solace, my substenance
my necessity.

So gratitude seems to me
one very real way
of making sure I live
squarely in every moment.
Looking for the things about which
I should give thanks.
Maybe looking will help me


I know that not writing on your blog for an extended period of time is , well, a travesty. Good thing that no one really nreads my blog and therefore no one is really missing anything at all.

Having said this, it’s been a couple of weeks of quick, slippery slides….down. Down. Down. For the first time in a long time I thought about the packet of tablets sitting in my bedside table top draw since December. I’ve looked at the packet. I’ve picked it up. I’ve taken the tablet sheet out. I’ve imagined what it would feel like to pop one out of it’s little casing. I’ve wondered, deep down, if I need them. If they will help me cope with my condition. If they will help me see a little joy in the days that follow and are to come.

It’s been a tough time round here. You will remember this. And most importantly, I was feeling about it. My father-in-law was sentenced last Friday for a scarily, inordinate amount of time. I mean, I know he did something bad. Something wrong that hurt other people. But what other people lost was money. He’s losing his life (of sorts). It may sound melodramatic but in sentencing him to 8 years, the judge was basically taking away the life of a 65 year old. Or at least, ensuring that he has no quality of life remaining. We are all in shock. We are all pretty quiet about it.

And we’re moving. Closer to C’s family and far away from mine. That hurts real, real bad. I struggle with my health and to know that I won’t have the support mechanisms that are currently available to me scares me beyond belief. But, I owe it to C. I know we both want something different.

I also know, the only way I can cope with the fate of my father-in-law is to know that he will see those two little boys who bring him so much joy, on  regular basis. That makes me feel ok. That makes it all feel ok.

These are a few of my favourite things

random iPhone June 09 014Reading in bed before the light goes off. The one and only truely me time of the day. Oh, how I relish that first sniff of sheets and the warmth that creeps up as you wriggle around. Then, to reach for a good book, smooth the pillows, get your perch just right and open the pages.

random iPhone June 09 015

Reading my blog roll in the morning (which is quite funny because C likes referring to his enjoyment of a good bog roll in the morning). Or evening, depending on whether I”m able to find 5 minutes during the day. Sometimes I get over it quickly – it seems all too much stuff. But other times, I relish the connection I feel when I read other people’s words.

random iPhone June 09 017

Jonquils have the most divine smell. Their scent brings back a heady rush of childhood memories. Building cubbies in the front paddock amonst the wild jonquils, narcissus and daffodils. I associate them with winter although I guess, typically, their a spring flower. For me, their smell mingles in memories of warm coats, heavy woollen op-shop jumpers, gumboots, scones and hot chocolate, open fires and evening readings of The Secret Garden. I love that these memories come back to me every year when I smell the first scent of jonquils.

Morning walk

November 2020