A couple months ago we were on a family bushwalk (I’d bribed Sparky with the promise of chocolate to get him to actually walk). At some point during the walk, Sparky asked me if I’d ever had other babies. I try to be truthful about things with him, so I told him that yes, I had had another baby but he was born too early and died.
I remember the little bit of silence after as he pondered this. I remembered the other group of bushwalkers that overtook us at this moment and probably heard the conversation, and I wondered what they thought.
Eventually Sparky spoke: do you think Hulk Smash could beat Superman? Can Hulk Smash pick up the whole world?
There may be questions later when he has digested the information, but I don’t think being truthful with Little Spark has traumatised him.
Writing out a list, asking hubs and the boy what should be added, then asking who would do each task certainly worked! I still spent more time working over the weekend, however my husband took charge of a few major tasks – although he downgraded some – and my son joined in.
For some reason, the first major thing I tackled over the weekend was my son’s room. I had it down as an ‘optional’ task as it doesn’t impact the dogsitters, but his room has been a pitt of untidiness for a long time. Somehow we managed to get it into some sort of order before noon on Saturday.
The dogsitters arrive on Thursday evening, and we fly out Friday morning. To complicate matters I have house guests from Tuesday to Thursday, but I’ll get through it. Perhaps without as much perfection as I’d like, but through it I will get!
I have been inspired: I have the start of a list of things to do this weekend in preparation for our trip. I’ve added some things, but tonight I’ll ask my husband and son what they would like to add and which they would like to do first.
In 2 weeks from right now I should be on the road between Christchurch and Dunedin; we’re off on more adventures – this time to New Zealand.
I’ve spent the weekend trying to do All the Things* while berating myself for not being able to do All the Things (because that’s impossible). My husband spent the weekend looking at his tablet and socialising. Sigh.
I do all the planning and organising; he simply isn’t built for it. I should be better about giving him lists of tasks to do. He’d probably do them quite happily, however somehow it feels bitchy. I should get over that.
Trying to see the good side of all this, I doubt I would have my darling Little Spark if I wasn’t this sort of person. I learned a lot about being a patient: you need to keep records, question things, ask about different procedures or options, stay informed. If I hadn’t told my FS that I thought it was time to look at egg donation, I think he would have just stimmed me forever. I got us there.
Just as sometimes in the middle of the frustrations of having a 5 year old I need to paused and wonder at what a wonderful thing it is to be experiencing those frustrations, I need to remind myself that feeling overwhelmed organising a trip is a wonderful thing – because we’re going on a trip. New adventures await.
*I miss Hyperbole and a Half. She’s wonderful. I hope she is doing something fulfilling and finding some happiness.
My inspiration for actually getting posts up is often fuelled by MicroBlog Monday at http://www.stirrup-queens.com/. Join in!
These are some thoughts that have been bouncing around my head lately, but I’m also prompted to try to get some of these thoughts ‘down’ after Mel’s post My Own Best Friend.
I’m fairly insular. I’m an introvert. I have friends, but not many who are close. Most people I’d rather keep in touch with online. Even meeting up for coffee can feel stressful with people I don’t usually see face-to-face.
There’s a woman who I consider to be my best friend, but after thinking about it a bit I realise that I’ve never called her that to her face even though I’ve referred to her as that to others. She is going through a busy and stressful time right now. I’ve been trying to balance ‘being there’ for her with not being too in her face if she’s trying to get on with things. Plus her time is completely taken up with caring for herself and her family.
And I shouldn’t make her situation about me, but this blog is mine, so I’m going to admit here to feeling a bit hurt at times because I’m finding out that although she’s my best friend, I am not hers. I don’t know if others are pushier and have visited her more lately or if I’m too oversensitive about pushing in, but I’ve not seen her recently although others have. And a few other things. And that’s fine. That’s whatever.
However why aren’t there rules about this? What about a ceremony to acknowledge who the best friend couples are? Why aren’t there rules to say if X is Y’s best friend, then it must be mutual and Y must be X’s best friend. I feel like a teenager who doesn’t know if she should refer to someone as her girlfriend. Is it mutual? Are we exclusive? Should we wear rings or friendship bracelets?
Of course this is ridiculous, but I now wonder: who is my best friend? I think I might actually need one maybe. I think I have a void, and I am hurting. My ‘best friend’ doesn’t have capacity now when I need her. Am I my own best friend? I don’t know if I’m equipped to be my best friend. Other than in this space – which I don’t devote enough time to – I don’t take enough time out to pay attention to myself or require myself to sit down and talk about what is happening in my life. I need a best friend to be outside me and help me know myself not be only reactive. That’s the work part of best friendship – it’s not all wine and dog cuddles.
Anyway, this is a bit half-baked and not thought through, but if it’s the best I can do with the little time I’ve allocated myself. If you’d like a best friend, applications are open.
It’s hard to work so hard to fulfil your dream and then find out perhaps you shouldn’t have.
I’ve been in meltdown ever since school pick-up on Wednesday. I’m so bad a parenting that what should have been a 10 minute walk home from school took 1 1/2 hours and many tears – both mine and Sparky’s.
It makes me feel that my family would get on better without me. It makes me feel that maybe I should go back to work full-time so that I have less time with Sparky – and hardly any time alone with him. I have seriously considered just leaving. Packing up and moving away.
This is the side of parenting you don’t see. The self-doubt, the pain, the times when you really wish yourself anywhere else other than with your child. When the job you dislike increasingly seems more attractive than the child you wanted for so long.
I’m not good at this.
It’s a terrible thing to admit, but I wasn’t really prepared when Google Reader was shut down. I know I backed up all my links, etc – but I never committed to a next step. I’ve kept up with a few blogs, but in being busy with my life and son I’ve lost track of sooo many people. I never meant to, and I miss them.
Last week I tried to look a lot of them up. Mostly I found blogs that hadn’t had new posts in years. Many had been deleted entirely. The last post in the abandoned blogs was usually about some stage in a pregnancy, which because of my experiences I found upsetting but in reality is probably a sign that they are living a busy life with a living bub.
I have been trying to get to know some of the new bloggers around, but I miss the oldies. We went through a lot together. Some of those people have now become my friends outside the blogging world, but some I don’t hear from again. It’s what happens with relationships, but I hold you all inside.