The start of something

This is another of those sitting in my inbox since forever posts that I am not sure what to do with other than just publish.

The title is so fitting to so many aspects of my life though. I am always aware that I am at the 'start of something'. Sometimes I don't think I even know what that something is, I just know that it is something.

Anyway I am starting to ramble and since I have already done that once today I will refrain from any more. It is Tuesday and I have blogged and while I haven't for a while I am a bit excited to be joining in with #IBOT

It was hot and sticky.  The air thick and heavy.  The weather man said it might rain but what would he know?  He was only guessing anyway.  They all were. No one could predict the weather on a regular basis nor any other of life's daily events.  Apparently that was half the fun.  The unpredictability and uncertainty of it all, that was what was meant to keep people going.  Sure spontaneity and surprise had it's advantages but sometimes there was nothing better than a guarantee in life.  Of course these are few and far between but that is what makes them so great.  They are worth the wait.

If you waited long enough even the weather can be guaranteed.

In early October it is only guaranteed to rain if your car windows are down or your washing out.  This becomes void though if it is done on purpose.  Mind you the way the air hung so still there was no chance of rain tonight even if she had forgotten to get the washing in. Assuming of course she had actually managed to put a load on and hung it out.

It had been another long day.  Yet nothing was really accomplished.  She seemed to wade through life without ever touching the bottom or even the sides for that matter.  She certainly wasn't complaining though.  After all no one but herself was the master of her destiny.  Not even the fairies.  Sure they could lead her in the right direction but the choices to make were all her own.

Time and time again she had wished for them to just be able to tell her which choice to make but they never did. Nor would they ever.  It was always the same old answer.  "You must choose yourself, follow your heart"

How was she ever supposed to follow her heart when quite often her head was in disagreeance?

She got up.  Peeling her back from the plastic chair as she did.  How was it possible to sweat so much in such a short period of time?  She had only been sitting outside a few moments and already the sweat was pouring out of her like a leaky tap.

It had been nearly 170 days since it last rained.  Her body longed to feel the cool wet drops rain again.  Surely it wouldn't be to far away now.  It was a little late this year but not yet long overdue. They had gone much longer without rain before.  The year of '73 saw 203 days without rain.  When it did finally come though it didn't stop for a week.

Grumble, Whinge

It was the Easter Sunday eve and all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.

Oh wait, wrong holiday.

Waves of exhaustion continued to sweep both through and over her body. Yet sleep still seemed to elude her. Or perhaps she just resisted the temptation to sleep? Either way, she was awake, a circumstance that did not appear to be changing anytime soon.

There was a part of her that longed so dearly to go and find comforting solace between the sheets of her bed, to rest her weary bones and shut down from the enfeeblement the consumed her, but it was just not to be. Her mind was filled with thoughts that were so busy jostling for attention that she feared it's neverending over analysing of ever little detail would never end. Ever.

Of course in reality there was never really a chance of that actually happening. The reality is that her mind was so good at distracting itself that it never did anything all the time. Sometimes she could get so distracted that things that needed doing would never actually get done. Often that which was started would not make it to being finished.

Much like these written words.

When I found myself in the early hours of Sunday morning actually managing to coherently string words together I was so incredibly excited that I just couldn't help but share my joy with my lovely followers on Facebook.

It is twenty to one on Easter Sunday morning. I should either be sleeping or hiding eggs. Instead I am writing. Like...
Posted by Rhianna Writes about A Parenting Life on Saturday, 26 March 2016

Only you know what?

By the time I had finished sharing that and returned to my words, they were gone.

Well the ones that I had actually managed to write weren't, I just suddenly had no new ones to add to them.

So so much sighing.

Anyway long story short my inspiration to write dwindled quicker than it had appeared. It has taken till now (Friday), nearly a week, for me to have once again found myself in a position to sit and write.

This makes me terribly sad.

I really do want to be a writer. I do.

Why I never make the time to sit and actually write though eludes me in the same way I can't find what it is to make me go and exercise.

Grumble, grumble, grumble, whinge, whinge, whinge.

The me day that wasn't

Today was supposed to be a me day.

A most perfect place for a bit of me time.

I had thought that I was on top of everything. You know, all the housework was out the way, washing under control and the majority of the dishes done and dusted. Leaving little old me free to do as I please. Free to write, or crochet, or sleep or whatever my little heart desires.

Sure there were more useful things I could have done, like clean out the pantry, the floors always need sweeping and all the rest of it. But all such things didn't have to be done if I didn't want to do them. I had thought that there was enough general order and things done, that I could let a few things slide and take the time to focus on me.

Only somewhere along the line I have somehow found endless crappy things to do. Turns out the only the way the washing was under control was if that meant spread all over the laundry floor with what appears to be half the local beach or school sand pit. Hard to tell the difference really, all I know is that there is sand everywhere and there shouldn't be.

From there I got asked to work later which made me start prepping dinner super early which meant I was alerted to the fact that the kitchen is almost in a state of disrepair. Apparently the aftermath of breakfast was more severe than I realised.

And then...

As if this wasn't all enough, I remember the play date that Teapot has lined up with a new friend who's mother I don't really know and will therefore invite in for coffee which means really I should make a bit of an effort to hide my lack of housekeeping enthusiasm.

Oh the sighing.

Interview with a Blogger

Well actually it is an interview with me. Which I guess doesn't make the title inaccurate, just a little  weird because I imagine you are wondering why on earth I would interview myself. Well I haven't. I have however been going through some old files on Mac and the following just happened to be uncovered. For the life of my I can't recall who was so kind to be interviewing me but I am sure it would have made my day.

Because I have nothing better to do
(bahahaha yeah right there are a thousand other things I should be doing right now)
it made perfect sense to create a collage of me from July 2013

The file was last modified on 7pm 9th July 2013. Even though it is only two and a half years ago it feels like a lifetime ago. We would have still been back in Darwin, somehow managing to squeeze into a two bedroom townhouse. Our adventure of a lifetime (which fyi I struggle to write without a #) was still just a pipe dream that was edging closer with every day. With 376 days till our actual departure day I am pretty sure that on this particular day it was still just that, a pipe dream.

But I am digressing.

As I am furiously procrastinating at the moment as well as desperate from some blog fodder, turning the interview into a blog post seemed like a natural progression.

So with out further ado here is an interview with 2013 me.

Name: Rhianna

Blog: A Parenting Life

Blog address: http://www.aparentinglife.com

Blurb about you/your blog: 

Sharing the ups and downs on the road of life as one mother dreams of writing fame. Hoping for the best, forgetting the worst and making the best of come what may. A light hearted look into being a SAHM that wants to fill the world with fairy wishes and butterfly kisses

If you could have named yourself when you were born, what would you have called yourself? Uhmmm, probably Rhianna, because seriously it is one of the coolest names ever. I have always loved my name. I was 26 before I met another Rhianna and that just makes me feel all kinds of special.

You have won 1 million dollars, but you can only buy ONE thing with it – yes a single item - the rest has to be given away to ONE charity…. What ONE thing would you buy, and what ONE charity would you donate the rest of the funds to? 

A house and if there were by chance any left over I would donate it to the Love Your Sister campaign. I wish that I could be selfless and say I would just buy a chocolate bar and donate the rest but a house really would be wonderful. I am fairly certain I could find something to live in for around $750,00 and then donate the rest.

Show us the messiest bit of your house as it looks right now 

Seriously! That would mean getting up getting my phone then waiting for the photo to upload to the photo stream and in between all of that I will more than likely get distracted and forget what I am doing and never send this back. I

Could you live the rest of your life never eating your favourite food again… ever? Yep. I can't even think what my favourite food is right now. I am of the opinion that any and all food is good food and if it is in front of me it is my favourite.

You have passed over into the afterlife, you have no choice but to be reincarnated…. You get to choose between two things, unfortunately the choice is between being a flea or a cockroach. Which one would you choose? 

A cockroach for sure. Those things have more lives than cats and can get into anything. Oh the fun you could have.

Show us your favourite pair of shoes 

Favourite pair of what? I live in the tropics, it is thongs or barefoot. Having said that I love my runners

What song can you not help but sing every single time you hear it? 

Dumb ways to way

If aliens do exist, and if they are watching the human race right now, what do you think they’d be thinking about us? 

Not a lot.

Would you wear a onsie out in public? 

Why not?

And lastly, but not at all leastly… Does the tooth fairy really exist? 

Of course she does. In fact my seven year old told me just the other day that when she grows up she is going to be the tooth fairy.

------------

And there you have it. An insight into what I was like way back in 2013. This procrastination post has given me all kinds of adventures and taken me to all sorts of places on my blog. It made for quite a rabbit hole experience which made me think I should probably go and join in with Ultimate Rabbit Hole gals

Trying to get it all worked out

Two weeks ago I made the impulsive decision to return to writing over at A Parenting Life. Without a second to spare I had changed my Facebook page name to Rhianna Writes about A Parenting Life and was ready to rock and roll. Or at least write and write.

It was the last day of 2015 and it seemed only fitting to start the new year with a return to the past with a bit of a fresh new twist.

Ok, perhaps when it is worded like that it doesn't seem as fitting but the decision was made nonetheless and off I went.

So here I am, two weeks into 2016 and still none the wiser as to how I am going to make myself write more.

All the sighing.

When Mr Awesome returned from Darwin, complete with my beloved iMac carefully wrapped in his suitcase complete with a voice to text program I have been waiting some twelve months to try I was adamant that words would begin to flow from me like much like the monsoonal downpour on a topical island. 

Obviously that is not quite how things have panned.

Sure I could easily blame school holidays or work or an endless list of dismal excuses, but really they are just that. Pathetic dismal excuses that are just a cop out for being lazy or scared or whatever it is that is making me hold myself back. 

My brain is currently in overdrive trying to balance out the quandary of desperately wanting to be a writer yet constantly putting the effort to write in the too hard basket.

It just makes no sense. At all.

More sighing.

The bar opens at what time?

It's one of those days where shortly after lunch time you find yourself seriously considering whether it is an acceptable time to crack open an alcoholic beverage. Actually, truth be told, it is one of those days where you have been wondering whether it is too early to start drinking not long after dropping the children at school. School which apparently still needs to drag on for yet another long week.

Oh the sighing.

It is fair to say that I am currently feeling rather incredibly run down. I have had a nagging headache and aching body for two days, though it feels like so much longer. Not to mention the constant feeling of exhaustion that comes with going to work as the rest of the world is sitting down to dinner or going to bed in the case of children and then still getting up at the regular time to take children to school.

Are you sure there really is still another week of school to go?

I feel terrible  not having been here for so long and then when I finally manage to ignore all the things that need doing so I can sit and right I seem to just purge a long list of whinging.

I do profusely apologise, honestly I do.

In fact only being able to get out complaints and unhappiness is one of the many reasons I have not been here. Last time I tried to write it went a little like this...

You would be forgiven for thinking that I had fallen off the edge of the world. It has after all been quite some time since last I shared anything here. Rest assured though I have not succumbed to any such fate. Instead I have just been consumed with the busyness of living life.

I would like to say that the busyness of living life has been one of excitement and adventure but sadly that is not the case. In fact a more apt description is one that involves a combination of treading water and furiously...

See what I mean on why I thought it best if I just stayed away?

So what made today different I hear you ask?

Well today was the day that had the straw that broke the camels back. So to speak. Today I realised that I just had to get it out or I would internally combust and there ain't nobody that wants to see that.

Today I remembered how that writing is where I make sense of things. How I piece myself together when times are tough and somehow manage to keep going. And right now times seem incredibly tough and I am not sure how I am going to keep going.

Of course that all sounds much more dramatic than the reality of what I am facing but perspective can be hard to come by at times.

We currently don't have any plans for Christmas day and it is troubling me greatly. Our best buddies here will be coming over for dinner but having always been a luncher for Christmas day waiting for dinner seems like waiting forever.

As much as this is our second Christmas without family and shouldn't be such an issue it is. Last year we were taken in by such a loving family that we felt like we were with family. Christmas has never been about presents here, only family so when you don't have a family to celebrate with it kinda doesn't quite feel like Christmas.

And that makes me a bit sad.

The Grandmother

She had always known that life wasn’t meant to be easy but she could not understand why it had to be this hard either. Sure having to struggle made you appreciate what you had but was it really necessary for everything to be a struggle? Had she not already done her fair share of hardships? Weren’t these later years in life meant to be full of enjoyment and relaxation? Apparently not. According to her life path there were still at least a dozen more tussles through life that she had to face and that was just in the next week!

The grandchildren were coming to stay with her. Thankfully that awful daughter in law, Melodie, couldn’t make it so she would have a chance to talk to her son alone. Perhaps she might even be able to teach those ratty children a thing or two about manners. She had long given up trying while their mother was around. Useless waste of space that she was.

It had been nearly ten years since that Melodie had married her son Jack and Rose still failed to see what the attraction was. Right from the moment she first lay eyes on her she knew that she was up to no good. There was just something that alerted Rose to the possibility of Melodie not being all that her son thought she was. Something in the way she acted and spoke screamed to Rose that Melodie would never love Jack the way he truly deserved.

Poor Jack. He had such a hard time growing up. Always friends with all the girls, yet no one ever managed to see the real boy behind the front. So caring and attentive he was always there to pick up the pieces of their broken hearts. Not that any of them deserved any of his attention. They just went to him when their egos needed a boost. They were all floozies, well all except one. Rachel. Such a beautiful person both inside and out. She had so much in common with Jack, yet for some reason they never really had a chance to connect in the way Rose wished for. Mind you their time together was only brief. Rachel’s young life was tragically brought to an end much too soon. Just another of life’s unfair blows.

Rose often thought back to Rachel and it was always with great fondness. She was by no means a catwalk model but she did have all the right bits in all the right places and the personality of an angel. Again though, few people ever took the time to really get to know her or understand where she was coming from. She was such a quiet girl and more times than not would just get lost in the crowd. Much like Jack. Perhaps that was why the were drawn to each other. Even at such an early age they recognised the kindred spirits that they were. Or at least the kindred spirits that Rose thought they should have been.