family

It might be the yucky headachy low feeling I get after my zoladex implant thats making me feel a little sad today. But I don’t think it is. That just makes me grumpy.  The sadness I think is what I’ve felt amongst the immense joy at Jem’s performance as Alice this weekend. Sadness that our family wasn’t there. I suddenly felt so damn far away again. It’s moments like this that piss me off. Albeit momentarily, then acceptance and yes, sadness takes over. I’ve made peace with it, I understand our reality, I am grateful for so much of it, but shit, sometimes I just want to cry. For me, for B, for my girls, for our family. For all the moments we are all missing out on. Moments like these are never to be repeated, can never be captured and would have been lovely to share with those who we matter to. I am sorry that I didn’t make more of a fuss about it with my friends here, to be our surrogate family. I’m understanding more and more that that is what eases the pain. A little.

kate

I am in awe of my daughter. Kate turned 15 today and I just so love the person she is and will continue to grow into. I can’t even be concerned that this might just come across as a mother bleating on about how fabulous her daughter is because that would make her feel good about herself. Because it genuinely isn’t that. Kate has so much to teach me. She just has an innate sense of self beyond her years, an innate sense of fairness, a kindness that is true, she is compassionate, she is incapable of untruths, she will never let anyone down, she is a friend to all, she forgives those who are unkind, she has no need for all to like her, she is who she is and will not compromise her ideals, her sense of fairness for anyone, even if it hurts her, she has a true grasp on her ego, she puts others before herself, she allows them to be who they are, she sees the good in all, she genuinely celebrates others success and talent without ever feeling what about me. My friends know how I worry a tad that she has no competitive edge, and she doesn’t. But that’s my stuff. She has no desire to prove she is better than anyone else, to prove she is good enough, because she is already so secure in who she is.  She is noble and kind and stylish, filled with grace and never-ending dignity. She is bright, she is cheeky, she is ambitious but not greedy, she talks back, she has a twinkle, a naughty and fabulous sense of humour, she has a wonderful ability to laugh out loud, she is argumentative and yes a tad disdainful and dismissive of her parents and her sister, but appropriately so, with a love for us that oozes out her pores. I am so proud and so in awe of my daughter. I hope one day I grow up to be just like her.

one hundred and eighty two

 

I am grateful for a beautiful sunset on the beach and for that unexpected moment when two glistening dolphins decide to surf some gentle waves right near the shore. And to B for going to Sydney next week so we had to have Kate’s family birthday dinner a night early. I am grateful for unexpectedly perfect timing and silver linings.

one hundred and seventy two

 

The best kind of dinners are the ones you don’t have to think about, plan, shop for or cook. The best kind of phone calls are the ones you receive from your teenage daughter whilst you are still at lunch at 4pm telling you her and her friend are shopping for dinner and will be cooking too. I am grateful for unexpected phone calls, unusually selfless gestures and spontaneous treats. But next time, I’m not offering to wash up. I should have just left it at thank you.

one hundred and sixty nine

 

I am grateful for an exquisite last morning for Mel and her girls. And I’m grateful that not even an impossibly grumpy teenage daughter (only with me of course, but it’s not me, it has to be her, I mean I’m so calm and non reactive) could take away my joy at an early morning walk on the river. But I am especially grateful today for Mel’s visit because her calm demeanour always makes me realise how full on I am. And how accepting I have become of me.

one hundred and sixty five

 

I am grateful for firsts. First moments that can never be repeated. I am grateful I was so blown away by Courteney today, that I didn’t have too much time to ponder the reality of my baby sister’s child being old enough to drive. And to drive me.

one hundred and sixty one

I love waking up on a weekend morning after a night out to a cold wintry day. I am grateful for the perfect excuse for a lie in, for a late cosy brekkie at our favourite spot, for an afternoon of movies and tea and chocolate. For the perfect excuse for a day of indulgence.

one hundred and fifty eight

Seeing Kate wearing the jersey (or jumper) my ouma, her great granny, had crocheted for me when I was about her age was just wonderful. I loved that jersey and I’m so grateful Kate loves its now indie vintagey vibe. I’m especially grateful that the trendy sales assistant at Alterior Motif, one of Kates favourite stores, loved it too. My ouma would be thrilled.

mother

I ran away today. Day one and I ran away. From my kids. Kate is feeling ill and emotional and just generally needy and annoying and moody too. Jem wants to know what’s for breakfast after she turned down an offer to join B and I for brekkie downstairs. And she’s moody too. And they’re both bloody messy. And just there. Shit and its day one of school holidays. And I just didn’t feel like dealing with them today. I love my kids so much but I think I love them even more when they are at school. And if you are this far with me you know a lot about me and my family and the love we share and my gratitude for them and the characters that they are. But have I ever admitted that I never wanted them? Well, never wanted kids. My plan was not to get married, never to have kids and focus only on me and my career. My plan. Me. In Control. Then I fell in love. And we loved being the two of us. But then we decided at some point that something was lacking, not with us but just lacking and at 31 the kiddy thing started. I offered 6 weeks of myself. Then I was back at work. Well, that never happened either. I did go back, but later and as a very different person, with a very different view on the world. The thing about kids is suddenly you realise you are no longer in control. Not that I ever was, but I loved the illusion of it. So, this morning, I left. Because I could. Just for a moment. And I do love my kids. And I am grateful for them. More than anything in the world. But then, you knew that.