Daydreams of Awesomness

So, in my last update I said that I would elaborate on just what it is that I spend more time than is healthy or acceptable daydreaming about. Nope, it’s not my ManChild Zac Efron, my daydreams about him may be inappropriate in many different ways, but it’s time well spent if you ask me! What I’m talking about is much more self destructive. I have what I refer to as ‘Facebook Envy’. I spend way more time than is appropriate trawling through FB, looking at ‘friends’ photos and status updates and envying their lives over my own boring, mundane, groundhog life. I especially like to torture myself by focusing on females my own age who are traveling, living overseas, have amazing careers, lead glamorous lives and have retained their youthful figures and sparkling eyes (which I’m guessing is helped by not having children and living a life of sleep deprivation).

This habit is extremely healthy. It really highlights my achievements, makes me thankful for the..... ah fuck it, who am I kidding, it’s painful and I do it because I’m masochistic & I enjoy torturing myself. I tell myself and them that I’m living vicariously through them when in reality I’m just plain envious and I’m stalking them. After a decent stalk session I’m left yearning for a life I could have had. If I’d just made a few different decisions I would now have an amazing Hollywood career, I would be a celebrated actress living a glamorous life and spending my days being fabulous. Or perhaps I would be travelling the world, having mind-blowing adventure after mind-blowing adventure and spending my days being fabulous. Then again I could have pursued that brilliant & fulfilling career and currently be at the top of my field, celebrated, world renowned and spending my days being fabulous. Sensing a theme here?? These alternative lives I speak of are not based in fact, I did not pass up any golden opportunities in the past that would lead me to believe that any of this is in fact possible it is simply the ramblings of a mid 30’s housewife who has come to realise just how quickly life passes by and just how much we can control our own destiny simply by striving for greatness, rather than spending your youth pissed as a maggot in random clubs and talking shit about all the things that you’re never going to do because you’re too busy waiting for life to come and get you rather than hunting it down & grabbing hold of it.

Of course in reality I know that what my objects of envy are posting on FB are the things they want me to see. I’m seeing a snapshot of their lives, I’m getting the ‘Best of’ reel. I do it myself. I don’t post photos of me looking like a sack of shit (hence not many photos!), I don’t post photos of my tiny, shitty little house, I don’t update about how many shitty nappies I’ve changed or how many fights I’ve broken up between the kids today, I post about sunshine and fucking butterflies. One might see my FB page and ascertain that I have three adorable children, a funny & hardworking husband and we do stuff and have fun and we shit glitter because we’re so fucking awesome and happy. Obviously if you took the time to read my blog you’d know the stone cold truth. And besides, it’s all relative. Someone who has that seemingly ‘amazing’ life still has to get up every day, they have to do what they do to make ends meet, they have to eat, clean, make beds, shower, shit – no matter what you’re chasing, when you find it and you stop chasing then that becomes your ‘every day’ and after a while any version of ‘every day’ gets old. So is the answer to keep chasing? What sort of life would that be? Always chasing something better, never satisfied with what you have, always sleeping with one eye open just so you don’t miss that next best thing.

So, through all my trawling, my FB envy, my vicarious living & my excessive daydreams I take something useful. I am adamant that my children will grow up knowing just how much power they have over their destiny. They will dare to dream and dream big and they will not squander their youth waiting for life to happen around them, they will become Life Hunters and seek it out daily. They will know the value of life & just how quickly it passes. But they will also know when to just stop and be present. That’s the key, to find the balance between moving forward and being present. If I can find that line & translate it into something tangible then I shall bottle it and make my squillions, and then spend my days being fabulous.

Lastly, here's a little eye candy to wrap things up....... mmmmm......

My cold hard truth

I had romantic notions of motherhood. I always said that I knew it would be hard, but I don’t really think I did. I had visions of rainbows and cupcakes and puppies and butterflies. Sure, I’d be tired, but the pure joy of raising my young would pull me through. Sure, there would be housework and washing to do, but the sun would shine, I would pop some music on and the kids & I would dance around the house while I unleashed my domestic goddessness (yes, it’s now a word). Yup, there would be errands to run & grocery shopping to do, but I would bundle my cherubs up and we would enjoy the outings, stopping for treats at cafe’s and having coffees & baby chinos together, perhaps while catching up with friends. Fuck me. Stupid woman.

I will now enter a disclaimer saying that I do not proclaim that this is how it is for every woman, this is simply my journey. And yes, I do love my children, and yes I did choose to be a mother. We’ll get to that later. Maybe.

What I found on the other side of the delivery suite was groundhog day. For the past 6.5 years I have been a SAHM (stay at home Mum) with the occasional foray into the working world here and there, but nothing of any length or substance. I’ve found the same load of dishes that need washing 6 times a day, the same loads of clothes that also need washing every day, the same meals that need cooking, the same kitchen table that needs wiping, the same floors that need mopping, the same beds that need making, you get my drift. My life is like the fucking magic pudding. Every time I take a slice out of the domestic duties it magically reappears. It’s mind-numbingly tedious and beyond frustrating. Blokes, let me try an analogy for you..... Imagine you were a brickie. You build walls. One day you go to the worksite and you build a wall. Every time you stop for 5 minutes to go to the loo or have a drink or god forbid have some food some little fucker sneaks in and knocks down what you’ve just done. You have to start again. You continue like this even after everyone else has gone home for the day, until finally you decide to just say ‘fuck it’ and head home to bed. You go back to that same job site in the morning and, you guessed it, your wall is in complete disarray. You have to do it all over again. Once again, every time you make any headway it’s knocked down. Keep reliving this scenario every day of every week of every month of every year. Even when you go on holidays, you just have to build that wall somewhere else, the wall is always with you and it always needs doing. You can’t just not tend to the wall because then the roof that is teetering precariously over the top, being held up by god only knows what will come crashing down. You chose to be a brickie, you made a commitment to that building, you must maintain that wall. You’re not allowed to do anything else. It’s only going to be about 20 years out of your life. It’s not forever.

It has nothing to do with not loving my children, or not being grateful for the opportunity to raise them. Well okay, so maybe I do sound ungrateful. I’m not though. I’m just sick of groundhog day.

It’s come to the point where I’ve been neglecting the wall. The wall pisses me off. I’m fucking sick of the wall. I wish I were one of those women that basked in the glow of domestic bliss, that found joy & satisfaction in keeping house, but I’m not and I don’t. I love having kids, and I love raising them, but the domestic side of it, the ‘stay at home’ part of the SAHM is making my brains leech out of my ears. So why not head out to work – well for starters there is the logistical impossibility of that happening for another 6 months because Mr R (5yo) is still in kindy and his daycare doesn’t do a drop off/pick up with our chosen kindy – but after that, well I could pop Miss E (will then be 13 months) into daycare and head out to work...... wait...... cue Mother guilt (refer to previous post for the lowdown on that one). Besides, what the hell would I do? I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. Should I take this time to study? Study what? And who’s going to hire a 40 year old (by the time I finish my degree) who is a novice in this new career? Plus, as selfish and self centred as I sound, I still want to be there for my kids, I want to be able to drop them off and pick them up from school. I want to be with them for school holidays.

So, let’s recap. Being a SAHM is doing my head in. The domestic side of it makes me want to slam my head in a car door repeatedly just for a break from the mundane. Every day is groundhog day & my brain has turned to liquid. I want to do something outside of the home but I feel too guilty to do so and I have no idea what to do anyway. Instead I just whinge about it and spend more time than is healthy or acceptable daydreaming about stuff that I will talk about in my next post...........

Yep, that pretty much covers it. But wait you say, I didn’t resolve anything here, where is the conclusion, where is the answer. Hey, I never said I was any good at this blogging shit, and I never said I was actually going to write anything worth reading.......

Mother Guilt

It seems the more I decide to take a proactive and contentious approach to this parenting gig and read/research various topics the heavier my cloak of guilt becomes. The hardest part is that it doesn't matter what you do or how you do it, there is always someone somewhere to tell you that you are wrong. Of course there is always contradicting research to support your efforts and tell you that you're doing the best that you can and that your child will be fine, but as Mother's we're conditioned to gravitate towards the ‘you're failing dismally' literature. Why do we do this to ourselves? Or is it just me?

I care. I am an active parent. I have a relationship with my children. I listen to them, tend to them, encourage them to be independent and strong, conscientious and kind, and yet I am constantly riddled with guilt.

It seems every time I log my computer on or activate my smart phone someone has posted or sent me a link to a blog or an article telling me how to raise my kids. The problem is that when you’re a conscientious parent and want to do the very best job you possibly can all this information is completely overwhelming. The fact that one article will completely contradict the article you read last week and started implementing doesn’t help the guilt factor or the sanity wheel either.

The beauty of this technology age is that we can share information so freely. Anyone can write about anything & post it to the internet, then anyone from anywhere can read it and share it. It’s a beautiful thing. What’s not so beautiful is that you don’t actually need to back up what you write with solid, factual information or research. Or if you do want to appear more reputable you can always find some ‘research’ on the internet to back up whatever claim you want to make. Whether that research is actually conducted and reported correctly, well who cares, it backs up your views and opinions. And that is really all there is to so much of the parenting stuff that is circulated and rammed down our throats by well meaning friends, relatives and colleagues – it’s someone’s opinion, sometimes ‘backed up’ by some dodgy ‘research’.

Of course, aside from all the reading materials there's the guilt handed out by people around us. The little jibes like "Oh, you left your baby overnight already, I could never do that" or "Oh, you let them eat that do you" or "Really, that's great that you are okay with your kids doing that". Fuck me, I'm so sick of the snide, backhanded guilt trips. It seems that once you have children it's okay for everyone to have an opinion on everything that you do, or don't do for that matter.

Parenting is a journey, it is not the destination. You don't suddenly 'arrive' once the baby does, you simply get thrown in the general direction of the path with several people pointing every which way. All we can do is hold tight and keep forging ahead. There is no surefire way & no shortcut to raising amazing children. What matters the most is that we come out the other side, albeit slightly battered and bruised but alive and mostly intact. If we did not question ourselves then we would not reflect, learn, grow, we would miss the opportunity to do things differently next time or to note the best way through the rough patches so we remember how we did it.

Welcome to the world of conscientious parenting. Mother guilt is the new black. It doesn't matter what you do or don't do there is always some dickwad with a keyboard ready to add another layer to your cloak. Fuck it. Wear it with pride.

Keep battling on soldier, you're doing an amazing job.

So here I find myself. On Blogger. Blogging. What do people blog about? First things first. I had to pick a theme, a background, I had to find a template that would welcome people to my page, that would tell people, with one mere glance, all about me and what type of person I am. Am I an animal lover, with cute little puppies scattering over my page, am I an art lover, with abstract pieces for people to gaze upon, am I quirky, funky, funny, cute, intelligent - fuck me, it's a computer screen and these are preloaded images - I'm pretty sure there is nothing on file within Blogger that will define me. Hell, I don't even know who I am, or how to define myself. Perhaps that will be something I shall ponder and explore through this medium. Word of warning though for anyone reading this...... I swear a little IRL (in real life), but I'm a foul mouthed sailor in writing. I find it cathartic. Yes, I realise that is rather 'neanderthal' of me but if you don't like it don't read it.

There are a group of women that have been telling me for some time now that I should 'blog' - I should put my thoughts and commentary on life down for others to read. It's a lovely sentiment but fuck I have performance anxiety now. All this pressure to be awesome, when really, I'm not that funny, witty or interesting - I just get lucky now and then with the occasional quip.

So, what do I do? Do I pick a 'topic' each time and post on that? Do I just continue to pointlessly ramble and hope something remotely coherent comes out? Do I need a plan? See, anxiety ridden already.

I guess I shall just sleep on it. If anyone has any requests for a hot topic, let me know......