On mothering...

Today I'm celebrating my current role and phase of life.

I LOVE motherhood. I love mothering. That doesn't mean I find it easy. O no no nooooo. Most of the time it challenges me like walking with a blister may challenge me. Sometimes it challenges me to my very core.

Nor does "loving it" mean that I enjoy it all of the time. Much of the time I'm buzzing and stomping around, full of great importance and busy-ness, with a booming "Get out of my way... washing coming through!" or a "F*** f*** f*** my washing machine's not working!"

I've found that Motherhood, when you are loved and accepted and held with compassion (which I am), is a tremendous window of opportunity: to grow and to get to know yourself in all your glory. I gave it time, and now I've found great (still challenging) peace with it; purpose; an understanding of the meaning of this time in my childrens' lives. And I understand that this deep appreciation is probably hugely due to the way I was mothered in my childhood. For those early years, my family home was secure and nurturing, reliable and solid.

A friend of mine recently said "but you don't work!". Well, Jules, you know who you are. And if wiping bums and cleaning toilets and hanging 2 loads of washing a day and cleaning up the kitchen endlessly and making beds, and preparing 3+ meals a day isn't "working", then I'm not sure what is. But it's true: there's no pay structure for this one, no sick leave, no uniforms, the hours can be shite and I can't see a way to advance in the mothering career... apart from honouring myself while I do it. There are amazing social clubs for those in this job though and quite a few moments in sunshine which I may not otherwise have.

I'm hoping that after this phase, there will be time still to develop another (paid) career. Perhaps the one I studied for, or another. It's not the time to stress about that now.

In the meantime, I'm celebrating mothering. Right now, it's a most worthy place to be. I most grateful for this time and space, and wonder quite often what I have done to deserve such good fortune. I may often sound as though I am going crazy, but actually I'm feeling damn fine.

dreaming of sunnier days

Who would have thought that the sky could hold so much rain?

There's now a creek where our road used to be and our front yard looks like a rice paddy. The water tanks at the top of our block are over-flowing, adding to the amount of water that needs to find a way across the backyard, around the house, down the hill and in to Pittwater. At least the house hasn't leaked - well, apart from that tiny little spot above the front door, which we can't do anything about right now.

From where I sit this morning, though, I can see patches of blue up high. Let us remain hopeful that the rain will clear enough for us to watch the SA v Wallabies rugby game tonight in relative comfort. We don't mind if it's cold, but would prefer not to be soggy AND cold, with kiddles out for an evening sporting adventure.

I know I've been a bit light on with the visual diary of late, so while I'm waiting for the sun to reappear, I'm remembering the day we went apple picking with friends, 2 months ago.

another island afternoon

The air was 10 degrees C.

The sky had a thick blanket of grey cloud.

Her boat was decidedly low on fuel.

The rain slanted and changed direction many times. The wind flapped. The waves leapt, playfully.

But she hoped for the best, and found it.

She got her kiddles (unfazed) home safely, along with... [you should know by know - there's always an "along with" in her stories] school backpacks, shopping, and 3 deck chairs. [why? O why? are there always 3 deck chairs?]

As she walked back along the jetty to retrieve another load and haul it up her hill, she held her hair back from her face, looked out towards Towlers Bay, where her eyes don't know where to rest, and felt the wind pushing against her. And she thought:

Man! This is excellent! Look where we live!

O yes. Now you can girl her... Boat Girl.

a winter celebration for my boy

This is our sunshiney boy.

He's a boy who has a bit of Africa in his blood.

The one who dances at the slightest drum beat.

The one with the open blue eyes and big warm heart.

The one with the happy, throaty chuckle.

The one who gives soft cuddles with squishy hands.

This boy loves to be close to us, and to share everything of himself with us.

He's the one who still brings tears to my eyes when I see the scar on his forehead. Everyone says that kids bounce. This scar reminds me that they don't.

"He came to bring gladness and joy to the earth," and he does.

If you come across him, hold him with all of your heart. He's generous, and kind. He's lovely, this boy who is now 5.

Bushwalking mit Kinder

A clear and sunny winter's morning called us into the national park.

After explaining to the boys that it was a bushwalk - not a bush run - it really did develop into a beautiful nature walk. We discovered caves, "crystals", interesting barks and branches hanging in trees, and an aboriginal rock painting.

A few days later we made aboriginal damper at our local library as part of the Guringai Festival. Here are a couple of piccies from our winter days:

(this last one is a bit blurry but it's one of our Gogo's favourites, so this one's for her, with love)

Not letting the bastards grind you down

Cheer up me,
Cheer up me,
You have a lovely boat and a bloody big moat,
Cheer up me,
Cheer up me.

Ahhh... little ditties work you know. Make me feel light and happy.