We were lucky enough to be treated to a sky show of lights this evening. It’s possible I will update this post with more photos if the lights return again. I’m in the Southern Midlands of Tasmania and the conditions were perfect. Icy cold and so so clear.
The Aurora is simply fantastic.
I stepped back and took stock of everything. It’s nearly June and the dread of the month is probably far worse than the actuality of it. I remember not writing about a lot of things, for fear of upsetting Nan and now, I look back and wish I had a record of each day as it passed, of the emails sent and received, of doctors visits and prognosis and finally, inevitably, the downhill slide to death and grief.
I wish I had every word, every memory, saved for posterity, rather than relying on the memories of a stressed and sleep deprived mind.
Someone said to me once, about life with children: The days are long, but the years are short. That fact slapped me in the face as I realised that it’s been nearly two years.
I’m not sure where that time went, except it’s gone now and wishing it back again isn’t going to change a thing. Would that it could.
Two years ago my son was small and placid, content to lie on the floor by himself. He was smiley and he attended every appointment with us, while I wondered how much time she had left and whether she would see my children grow up.
Life is hard. When you’re the one having to move through life after death, when it feels like the world should just stop and allow you time to process your grief and learn to live again, that’s hard.
***
Stop. Move around and remember to breathe. In and out, out and in. Don’t think, don’t remember, just get through the day.
Make it through until bedtime, then go to bed. Sleep, dream and wake, to do it all again, over and over.
If you haven’t torn your hair out by now, what’s stopping you?
We get caught up in the drudgery of the days and fail to see the years passing by, faster and faster. Like a river, speeding up as you head towards the waterfall (a hurtling death), you can’t seem to slow it down.
One day, you’ll turn around and look at the river of years behind you.
***
The years are short, but the days are long and I need to just keep moving.
Everything will be okay.
I’ve been thinking a fair bit about Internet stuff and how it affects my day to day life. Some things have happened in the last few months that shook me up and made me intensely annoyed and while I was in the middle of it, my family was getting the brunt of my grumpiness.
I was laying in bed one night and finally thought ‘Fuck it. What does it matter anyway? It doesn’t affect how I live my life.’
Suddenly, I was able to let it go. Sure, I was frustrated and angry and that comes and goes still, but what happens on the Internet doesn’t change my life. It’s like an alternate reality working online sometimes.
I’ve been featured in the upcoming “Power Moms” book and I am thrilled to bits about it. But I’m still going to the supermarket and buying no-name bread and the cheapest cheese blocks that I can find. I’m still changing multiple nappies a day, and cooking dinner and washing dishes. I still have to do laundry and take my autistic son to therapy and sometimes, it feels like the Internet isn’t real.
I mentioned to a school mum the other day that I’d been to Melbourne recently for “work” and of course, the first question asked is ‘what do you do?’
Explaining blogging is hard, for me. Somehow “I write things on the Internet and get sent free stuff a lot” doesn’t explain what I do.
To someone who isn’t part of the blogging world, how do you explain why companies are bending over backwards to get backing from mumbloggers? Or why a PR company would host a brand event and send 50 mothers home with more freebies than they could carry. How do you explain internet famous to someone who doesn’t run in our circles? Does the average person on the street know who Heather Armstrong is and why she has so much clout?
Is this even important?
I spend a lot of time online, with the thought to making money from it one day. One day I’m going to get paid to do this, the thing that I love. One day it will all come together and I’ll know how to answer the ‘what do you do?’ question.
Until then, I get to go to bed at the end of the day, knowing that whatever drama I’ve been witness to online, whatever names I’ve been called and whoever has linked to me, that stuff isn’t my reality. It doesn’t change my daily life, or make me a better or worse person.
Things have been happening this week, so I thought I’d bring you up to date, considering we didn’t get raptured last night.
I took some photos for Sunday Selections:
Sunset: It’s about time we had some pretty sunsets.
And long exposure of a moonrise.
Links:
I wrote an article for the ABC’s Ramp Up website. You can see it here and I would love any shares you can manage.
I was included in the Top 25 Inspiring Families round up over on Circle of Moms.
Also, and I’m rather excited about this, I’ve been featured in the upcoming “Power Moms” book, due out later this month. I don’t have many more details than that, but there you go. A book.
Elsewhere on the Interwebs:
I have a review blog, that I’m hoping to get some more vlog reviews done on today.
Lauren knitted some sheep socks and they are fantastic!
Amanda recommends this post from Marita: My body is a wonderland.
Zoey would like you to read this post about unconditional love.
Becky’s breasts are contaminated. Apparently.
These photos and recipe from Sarah made me hungry.
Ames survived the Rapture.
Maid in Australia got to go to Samoa. Sort of.
And finally, this post from Melissa made me cry.
So that’s me. What have you been reading this week?
Half an hour ago, Nathan went to visit his brother and took the children with him. Immediately, I was struck with a sense of urgency. The kids aren’t here, I am alone, surely I ought to be Doing Something Productive?
Before they left, I had plans. I was going to try to update this blog, write an article for the Mummy Bloggers Blog and maybe write something else, to be pitched for publishing elsewhere. I was going to drink a cup of tea, listen to music, write stuff and then read a book.
I was going to relax.
Then the car drove out of the driveway and the guilt hit.
I am here alone. I should be Doing Something.
I should be Making The Most of the time I have sans children and I should be proving that I am a productive member of the family, even when that family has driven away, leaving me in peace.
Which is stupid really, considering the things that suddenly felt all important were: scrubbing the windowsills, folding all of the dried and hanging laundry and doing more, scrubbing the benches and putting dishes away, or vacuuming. I was also convinced that I needed to make apple crumble.
I mean, WTF self? Why so productive all of a sudden? Alone time should be relaxing.
So, why the guilt? All of the things that I felt I should be doing, are things that I can do while the children are home.
Things I can’t do when they’re at home include writing, eating and drinking a hot cup of tea without someone stealing it. I should be doing those things.
But the guilt. Oh the guilt.
So I asked on twitter.
And got a slew of replies, from women who feel equally guilty if they’re not being productive when given alone time.
Firstly, I am glad it’s not just me.
Secondly, I am a bit terrified that there is a huge contingent of women who can’t take time for themselves when they’ve got it, without feeling guilty!
Is this how we’re programmed?
I’m just not sure. Men don’t jump out of their seats when their girlfriend walks through the door and start scrubbing coffee cups, just to look busy (do they?)
I do know that I feel guilty about the time I spend on the computer and have been known to dive off the computer when I hear Nathan coming, racing to somewhere, to do something productive, so it looks like I’m busy.
Only the thing is, I consider blogging and it’s assorted things work and so does Nathan. It brings in money, and makes me happy, so why do I feel like it’s not worthwhile?
And really, the only time he grumbles about me being on the computer, is when I’m so deeply engrossed in reading or writing, that I don’t notice the children getting into mischief right next to me. This probably happens more than it should, but I’m a focused kind of person who kind of switches off to the rest of the world when I’m busy.
It’s really annoying actually, to feel this level of guilt about alone time.
Do you feel guilty when you’re spending time alone?
