All posts tagged Love

The good crockery

by Ms Optimism on June 13, 2012 in Depression, Family Life with No comments

Image via InAweofGod'sCreation

So, I’m home! I am finding that hospital is a bit like London, or labour, in that now I am home I am blanking out all of the shit that I hated and just remembering the good stuff. Like not having to prepare meals, or take care of anyone else except myself. And having a space that I can hide in. The ever thoughtful Mr Optimism has suggested that I blog about all of the things I hated, so I can remember them, but also so I may use it as motivation to do the things that will keep me well when my motivation is waning.

Now that I am home, I am desperately trying to maintain the motivation without being hard on myself. This is a tough ask for me. I have had small wins: bed early, got my art stuff out (didn’t actually use it…), checked email without having a panic attack, meditated this  morning. Still no exercise.

At the risk of sounding all cliched, this moment right now, this very moment will never happen again. It is unique in all time and it is up to me, up to all of us to live it in a way that is true. Each moment is a moment to be treasured and lived in a way that I can be proud of. With this in mind I am declaring henceforth I will use the good crockery.

I never use the good crockery. I save it for later. I’m not sure when later will come, what defines the moment that it is finally ok to use and indulge in the nice things that I have available to me. Why must I use the horrible stoneware now. What will happen if I use the good crockery now? I might feel good?

True, I might break the good crockery. But it is also true that the good crockery might break later on when I use it too. Or it might get broken while moving house, or be discovered by a certain 3 year old and smashed. Then I would have to face that my good crockery had existed and been destroyed without me ever having experienced the joy of using it.

I am of course using my good crockery as a metaphor, for here is a list of other things I do not regularly make use of because this moment is not a special enough occasion…

  • Nice bath smellies. In fact I am more likely to throw out a smelly unused 12 months down the track after it has gone rancid. This totally makes no sense.
  • My Chanel make up. That I splurged on years ago, and is probably giving me cancer now because it’s so old.
  • My antique glasses. In case I break them.
  • My nice clothes. Surely I should enjoy and wear them out now, while they still fit. Shit will go south soon enough.
  • Nice paper. This I acknowledge is truly neurotic, however I personally know another creative who does the same thing. I have reams of lovely paper that I will never draw on in case I ruin it. I just keep on buying it, and drawing on the crappy paper because that’s all I’m worthy of. If my psychologist sees this she’s going to go to town on me, I know.
  • My fucking expensive Trek Madone. This is a bicycle that is worth more than my car, which I refuse to ride in inclement weather because I don’t want it to get dirty. I don’t even know where to start with that one.
  • Quiet moments with people I love. Because I’m so fucking busy. Am I really? Or is it just that I can’t bare to sit still. The tasks will never be finished, I need to learn to relax in spite of the tasks.

 

 

 

 

 

Enjoy the good crockery, now. In this moment. Because I’m learning that enjoying the good crockery energises us, and reinforces the feeling that we are worthy of the good crockery. Worthy of positive moments.

Do you agree? Or am I expecting too much from the Wedgewood?

 

The Most Valuable Parenting Advice

by Ms Optimism on November 14, 2011 in Being Mum, Family Life with No comments

Image via brianf_81 @ travelpod.com

If you are lucky, the most valuable parenting advice you’ll ever receive comes courtesy of your closest and most trusted family. For the rest of us, it comes from Google and parenting forums.

Today I am sharing with you the most valuable and useful piece of parenting advice that was shared with me by my mother. I thought this advice was well-known to other parents, however I have recently discovered that others out there may not be aware of it. Since it is such an important tool in my repertoire I feel it is my obligation to share it with you, as it is the solution to a serious and vexing problem.

Sand is sticky. It is especially sticky when the child it is stuck to is wet. It gets between toes, in hair, down butt cracks and if your child is so inclined, in cake holes. It’s impossible to remove from your child before they enter your car or house. It shits me when it is tracked through my house.

Enter my mother’s brilliant solution.

Douse your child liberally in talcum powder (corn starch ones should work the same). The sand literally falls off. I feel slightly like a Bert infomercial here, but it seriously does. I dare you to try it.

So, in our beach kit we have towels and toys, and powder to get the bloody sand off before we get in the car.

Consider yourselves informed, people.

Living in a holding pattern

by Ms Optimism on November 9, 2011 in Being Mum, Depression, Family Life with No comments

From time to time we all feel like we are going in circles. In our family at the moment that feeling is amplified. 15 years ago, before we met, Mr Optimism underwent a double lung transplant for cystic fibrosis. In the 12 years we have been married there have been a lot of ups and downs with his health. Times that we plan month to month, and times that we pretend our lives are normal and buy a house with a 30 year mortgage and have a baby.

Image via what-if-concepts.blogspot.com

It’s hard to live in a house built on shifting sands.

I’m writing about this because they’re things I don’t get to talk about (perhaps a sign it’s time to go back to counselling…), but also because 2011 has been a shit of a year in lots of ways, and due to ongoing chest infections in the past year it’s a very real possibility that in the near to medium term future he will be assessed for another transplant.

Before I met Mr Optimism I wasn’t an organ donor because it was way too confronting to think about. Now, obviously I am.

I’m writing about this because if Mr Optimism hadn’t been lucky enough to have his first transplant I would never have had the opportunity to meet him, much less become his wife and be blessed with our Moopy. We talk a lot about giving people a second chance with a transplant, but don’t give a thought to the positive effect the recipient will have on people they haven’t even met yet. The people they will save from themselves. The special little people they might create. It’s one giant ripple-effect head-fuck, if I think about it too much.

So, if you’re not an organ donor please consider it. Please tell your family and friends your wishes. It is undoubtedly confronting to think about, but the good that can be done is indescribable.

——

While this post isn’t very happy joy, the fog has lifted – no fucking thanks to the generic Zoloft I switched to 2 weeks ago. I’m on the mend, nearly back to normal – whatever that is ;)

I’m doing a standing up wee, mum!

by Ms Optimism on November 7, 2011 in Being Mum, Family Life with No comments

Seven words which strike fear into the heart of any mother of a 3 year old boy (or girl, I guess, for that matter).

I’ve come to the conclusion that the moment you decide you don’t care who sees you naked when you are in labour is to prepare you for a lifetime of having little people watch you go about normal bodily functions. It is through the course of this observation that Moopy learned about the standing up wee. From his Dad, in case you were wondering.

First, it was just when I was at the park and too lazy unable to find a toilet for him. Then, it was at a urinal when all the toilets were engaged (again, with Dad…). Horrifyingly, he is now giving it a go at home.

Twice, this has ended in puddles of wee on the floor. It’s not so much a matter of him honing his aim, as it is getting any of it in the bowl. On the third attempt I was busily cooking his birthday cake when he called out once again, “I’m doing a standing up wee, Mum!”. Fearing the worst I ran to the toilet with towels in one hand and floor cleaner in the other. What I found was almost more disturbing than seas of urine on the floor.

My son seated on the toilet bowl, facing the wall – looking way too proud of himself. Wondering why I was pissing myself laughing at him, no doubt.

I pointed to a spot on the wall about 2m from the ground and said, “When you are this tall you can do a standing up wee at home”. Hopefully by then I will be ready, or he will have moved out of home. Until then, we will continue to practice the standing up wee in any toilet I don’t have to clean.

When good presents go bad

by Ms Optimism on November 2, 2011 in Being Mum, Family Life with No comments

Moopy’s Birthday has been and gone for another year, and we’re grateful to the Victorian government for giving Mr Optimism and the rest of the family the day off by making it a public holiday. Since he’s well and truly conquered the Strider – including getting sick air at the skate park - we figured a pedal bike seemed like the logical choice in present. He would literally wet himself with excitement when he saw it, we thought.

He walked into the kitchen, clocked the bike, turns to Mr Optimism and says – “Can we measure me now? I grew taller”. $200 well spent. He did, however, spend 2 hours playing with his new bubble mixture, so all was not lost.

Some presents really hit the mark, others not so much. Some presents really hit the mark with Moopy, whilst really pissing me off. Like the time he received a Razor scooter for Christmas when he was two years old. Or the Tonka truck that still managed a 110dB rev after being submerged in the bath and being left in the garden for a week – the latest shot fired in the ‘most irritating toy’ war I am fighting against my SIL.

In the end, he spent most of the day on his bike. By the end of the day he could barely muster the energy to pester me for more cake and was in bed 30mins early – sugar rush and all! That’s what I call a win-win.

 

The Baby Olympics

by Ms Optimism on October 26, 2011 in Being Mum, Family Life with No comments

There’s a lot of chat about competitions in our house at the moment. Being his Mother’s/Father’s son (we blame each other), he’s a bit competitive. In fact, we have turned this competitive streak to our advantage, and use it to get him to do things he doesn’t want to do. “Who can get into the car first?”, “Who can get into bed first?”, “Who can make dinner and unpack the dishwasher first?”. We have found this to be a very effective manipulation technique parenting tool. Way cheaper than bribery, and healthier than chocolate.

The unfortunate side effect of this is that everything, everything is a competition now. Like eating dinner, splashing in the bath etc. As a childless friend recently pointed out, this is perhaps not the best strategy to employ. Funnily enough, he never did suggest an alternative… Every day we swear we won’t use competitiveness to bend him to our will anymore. Every day we do ;)

I’ve always been conscious that when it comes to kids, there’s a lot of competitiveness. The Baby Olympics. Whose child is tallest, walking first, toilet trained first (depends on your definition…), etc., and I wonder if it has always been this way? Maternal Health appointments don’t help, with the checklists and graphs and curves. The Baby Olympics can get you down sometimes, it’s worth remembering that by the time they are 15, most children will have reached their major milestones, including but not limited to…

  • Sleeping in their own beds
  • Being toilet trained
  • Being able to wipe their own bottom
  • Eating with cutlery in a socially acceptable manner
  • Is doing their own washing too much to hope for?

More than anything, I don’t know why we seem to be in such a hurry for our Terrors to grow up.

Good morning!

by Ms Optimism on October 25, 2011 in Being Mum, Family Life with No comments

There’s a little bit of running late for work going on around here at the moment. There are two main culprits – morning cuddles and breakfast chats. Every morning, somewhere between 2am and 7am, we have a little visitor to our bed. He clambers up and over Mr Optimism and positions himself between us – usually in starfish formation. To be honest, it doesn’t really disturb my sleep and I don’t notice him climbing in. I look forward to our morning “everybody cuddles” (not so much the toenails in my back) and getting out of bed takes a little longer than it used to, what with hiding under the doona, kisses, cuddles and pretend snoring.

We are creatures of habit here at Casa Optimism. I have porridge, Mr Optimism bananas on bread and a muesli bar, and little Terror has his porridge and also everybody else’s breakfast. It’s a reasonably civilised affair, talking about “what we did today” (“Not so much Terror, I got out of bed 10 mins ago. Ask again in a few hours”), drinking tea, and generally catching up. I love breakfast chats. I wish breakfast chats could last for hours. Sometimes they do, but unfortunately we’re not getting out of bed any earlier to allow for this.

So, we’re perpetually running late – which would normally annoy the shit out of me. But the anxiety around Being On Time has melted away (for better or worse!), and I’m no longer skipping breakfast to keep to a schedule. I’m pretty certain I won’t get the sack (self employment win!) and Mr Optimism should be pretty safe (public sector win!), so let the cruisy mornings roll.