start where you are

It's not easy sometimes...or much of the time, but really, what else can you do?

This says it all

My receipt from the Museum of Childhood shop :-)

This started out as something else

This was gonna be a 100 word diary post.  But now it's this.  There's been a "movement" in blogland you may have come across, called 'Things I'm Afraid To Tell You.'  Gazillions of bloggers have written posts of that title and linked to each other.  It got some media attention.  It was written about in the Huffington Post and stuff.  I'd been thinking of joining in and writing such a post myself but then I realised that almost everything I post on here is something I'm afraid to say.  Thus rendering said post redundant.  So, without further blether, here's what I was going to post, today's not-100 word diary.  Thanks for reading.

Right now, I need to be kind to myself but I just can’t seem to do it.  I started my day posting the photo above on Facebook but now I just want to give it the finger.  But right now, my fingers are cold and this is gonna be longer than 100 words and I don’t care.  Right now, I’m hungry even though I ate dinner three hours ago.  I had spaghetti with flash fried tomatoes and basil. Right now I think I have very few true friends, but this is one of the things I like to torture myself about when I’m having a bad day.  As well as the fact, yes, I said FACT, that I will be single for the rest of my life.  Some sort of punishment of course.  Wanna prove me wrong?  Knock yourself out.  And just so you know, my kid just drew on his face to make me laugh.  Beat that.           

It's not very clear, but he drew a line down his face, across his eyebrow
and some squiggles on his nose.

what happens when you're not straight with your three year old

Looking at some pictures of a friend's baby, I explain to Jake that she came out of her Mummy's tummy.

Jake: Did I come out of your tummy?
Me: Yes you did.
Jake: But how did I get in there?
Me: Ermmmm, well...
Jake: Don't you know?
Me: Yes, I do know, I just don't know how to explain it.
Jake: Just tell me.
Me: Ok, well, Mummy and Daddy planted a special seed and you grew inside me and then you came out of my tummy.
Jake: Oh, ok.
 <Phew>

Two weeks later...

Jake: Mummy, did you buy me?
Me: Did I buy you?  No honey, I didn't buy you.
Jake: Where did I come from then?
Me: Well, Daddy and I made you and you came out of Mummy's tummy, remember I told you about that?
Jake: You MADE me? 
Me: Yes, sort of, do you remember what I told you?
Jake: You made me when you and Daddy planted a tree?
Me: Ermmm, not a tree, a special seed...
Jake: Did you do it wrong Mummy?
Me: Ermmmm, no...I don't think so...what do you mean?
Jake: How did I come out of you?
Me: Ermmm, well...I have a sort of tunnel.
Jake: You have a tunnel?  <pause> Wow.
~
I'm usually so honest with him about everything, but I just can't bring myself to explain about sex - not yet.

P.S. On an irrelevant note: this is my 1200th post on this blog!
P.P.S. To those of you who read my last post and got in touch to ask me if I'm okay...thank you, and yes, I am okay.  You're all lovely.  Thank you for caring.

I don't know

I don’t know if it’s because it’s Thursday

or the longest day, the first day of summer 

and yet we are already creeping towards the dark

I don’t know if it’s because it’s 4:34 in the afternoon 

and I am alone

I don’t know if it’s because The Walkmen 

are playing a waltz on the radio 

or I because I spent the morning with kids in school 

and my little Batman will be off soon

or because I heard of the death of another 

in the arms of his young mother 

or because my Mom’s polyps were benign this time 

or because it’s raining again and I still haven’t cut the grass 

or because a young couple are moving in next door 

or because of the smell of paint 

or the memories I can’t feel 

or the story of the lost owl 

or because I am sending postcards to strangers in China 

and there will always be books I’m not going to get around to reading 

and my shirt is damp 

and the strawberries are bruised 

and there is no one to smell my hair which I got cut two hours ago 

and I don’t know what I mean to you 

and a dog named Zeus licked my feet even though we hadn’t met before 

and probably won’t again 

but I feel as if I’m about to lose everything

as if it is all about to fall away 

and I will empty out 

and not be filled again.

What words do you have for loss?

On a good day

I'm loving this song at the moment.  She plays it on a harp.  Billy Bragg covers it on guitar (video below).  I'll be attempting to teach myself to play it on the uke.

Right now ~ 9 June 2012

I can hear Jake chewing his potato waffle Batman and Robin are on TV and my tongue is still savouring roasted asparagus with garlic and hollandaise sauce.  I went to bed at 4am.  Got home from bridge at 3am and couldn’t sleep.  The later it gets, the more awake I feel.  So I wrote in my journal and read a sample from Bankei Zen on my Kindle.  I was woken before 9am by Yoshi wanting his breakfast.  Nights out aside, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep for over a week and I just can’t seem to shift this cold.

Right now ~ 8 June 2012

The wind is making the silver birch tree sway my fingers smell of clementines my laptop is making a wailing sound and I feel too stupid to blay pridge.  This morning Jake woke up laughing and singing.  Even when he said, “Sing along Mummy,” I didn’t know if he was awake or dreaming.  He was awake.  I said I was tired so he sang me a tired song:  “Starry dee doo.  That’s it!” I need to feed Yoshi.  He likes to stick his head in the fridge, not to sniff meat, but to chew on the packaging for the grapes.

100 word diary ~ 4 June 2012

I am rather fond of moments of insight.  I live as if I’m supposed to see them everywhere.  It’s annoying cos it gives the impression that I know what I’m on about.  Words aren’t the truth.  Just cos this is written doesn’t mean it’s complete and infallible.  If these entries were spoken, would they feel less weighty, or make me feel less twitchy about being misunderstood?  Does it matter?  Don’t we only see what we’re inclined to see anyway, react to what we’re inclined to fear?  These words are not the sum of me.  Then again, who knows what is.

100 word diary ~ 3 June 2012

Most days, I don’t like my face.  I don’t like admitting that.  When I do, people think I have low self-esteem or I’m fishing for compliments.  But it’s because most of the time, I don’t see my face but my mother’s.  I appreciate her more now but I still don’t want to be her.  I want to be me.  I’m slowly getting that life is not about what I want.  But today I looked at my face and loved it.  Sunken half-moons under my eyes, shaky beginnings of crow’s feet, all of it.  I smiled.  And I saw myself smiling.

100 word diary ~ 2 June 2012

My Dad forwards me emails.  It used to be pretty pictures and inspirational quotes.  Lately though, they have been WARNING emails.  Don’t eat this candy and drink soda afterwards cos your stomach will explode.  If you microwave water for more than two minutes it could blow up in your face.  Know how to spot the signs of stroke.  What to do if someone is having a heart attack.  His unnamed anxiety packaged up in neatly wrapped parcel bombs and labelled as Practical Concerns.  I’ve been accepting these parcels my whole life.  Storing them under my bed, listening to them tick. 

Right now ~

Right now, the clock ticks.  My body houses flaming aches that stretch and pummel when I cough.  Sometimes my breath grates my chest.  Right now, friends are meeting for a bridge game without me.  And tomorrow, my ukulele class, my yoga class, another friend will carry on without me, because I am sick.  THAT voice already needles me – so people get sick, get over yourself.  But I don’t want to.  I want to feel sorry for myself because I am alone, because I can’t ask for someone to come and take care of me, because maybe there is no one. 

This goes nicely with the heat we're having right now...

Soften ~ Listen ~ Move Lightly

Shadows ~ May 19

The Power of Vulnerability

Have a listen to this TED talk, it's just wonderful.

Brene Brown on Vulnerability

Brené Brown is a research professor at the University of Houston. She has spent the past ten years studying vulnerability, courage, authenticity, and shame. She spent the first five years of her decade-long study focusing on shame and empathy, and is now using that work to explore a concept that she calls Wholeheartedness. She poses the questions:

How do we learn to embrace our vulnerabilities and imperfections so that we can engage in our lives from a place of authenticity and worthiness? How do we cultivate the courage, compassion, and connection that we need to recognize that we are enough – that we are worthy of love, belonging, and joy?

the most beautiful thing

 

 Jake being a banana tree

~

My boy, the most beautiful thing ever to come out of me, without a doubt, hands down, 

no contest.

I didn't really know what love meant, until I was given the privilege of being his Mummy. 

 ~

TheWeighing of the Heart

What does the heart weigh?

More than the pull of your small

hand on mine?  More than your head's

light heaviness on my shoulder?

Under the tender pressure of sleep

my old wool jacket becomes

your memory of consolation, comfort,

that ancient sweetness of love and tweed.

Remembering this, watching you,

I lose my place entirely, not knowing

whose the head, whose the sleeve,

whose the big hand and whose the small.

The Ancients measured a good heart

against the slightest puff of down,

in the gleam and glitter of delicate scales.

Like Thoth, we watch and wait.

What does the heart weigh?

Less than your head's tiny burden,

for lighter than a feather is love

and this the Egyptians knew.

- Maura Dooley

Want to read about other people's beautiful things?  Go here.

And to read Fiona Robyn's novel The Most Beautiful Thing, go here.  It's available for download for free for today and tomorrow only.  Enjoy!

Little feet, big feet

~ rolling up trouser legs and wading in a fountain in a park with your favourite person

On the gravel of the pavement...

a face in the skin of a crushed berry

The perfection that is Catness

Yoshi, who lives up to his name