A commenter on a previous post about us moving said something along the lines of “the grass is not always greener, sometimes it is the cow manure making it appear so.”
I have no clue who wrote that. What their motives were or what they thought they’d achieve by saying that. They decided to remain anonymous. Now I could sit here and write that my life is exactly as I planned. That as a 28-year-old woman, each and everyday of the rest of my life would be and is totally picture perfect. Just so I could prove this anonymous person wrong.
Well that’s not life.
That would be called a lie.
And one thing I am not is a liar.
The most beautiful, and most precious part of my life happens to be the fact that it is and will all remain, unplanned.
I am not afraid of the truth, actually I feel it has ‘set me free’ the ability to say and do and feel human things is what makes me who I am.
I make mistakes daily. Hourly even. I do the wrong things. I often say the wrong things and last night I did.
I upset Glen, my husband with a comment about it being hard to be this kind of single mum. I said something like ‘I’m a single mum WITH a hubby who has no input at all. He doesn’t even know where our kids go to school and that is the hardest part.’
Plain and simple.
Glen’s been away working to take care and provide for us and we haven’t seen him for a month as of tomorrow. I have been the single, one and only who has been taking care and full responsibility of our kids in that time. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I didn’t mean he wasn’t doing anything.
I do totally understand how he would take it the wrong way.
I would too.
I should have thought before I spoke, a trait I wish I had.
I meant that it was hard being a family with two separate lives. That it would be nice if he DID get to share in what we’re doing.
I don’t know what he does day-to-day and he has no idea what I do day-to-day. What I feed the kids is up to me, where they go to school is up to me, the time they go to bed is up to me.
Whether I can or cannot cope with that is again, all up to me.
I cannot imagine what it is like for him.
He’s in our old house still. The one we brought 2 new babies into, the house where Violet, Molly and Buddy all learned to walk in, the house where we’ve loved each other and hated each other. Almost 5 years of our lives are tied into that house which now holds nothing more than a single bed, fridge and washing machine.
He would drive up the driveway after a difficult day at work to see toddlers hanging from the verandah screaming out ‘Daddy!’ with glee while I stood there with a smile and most likely a baby on my hip.
He’d finally make it upstairs with a pair of kids in his arms followed by the rest talking over each other trying to tell him about the highlights of their day. I’d usually pour him a cold drink and listen to him unload all the dramas of his work day. After we’d told the kids stories and tickled them to death, we’d kiss and hug them and put them to bed. I’d reheat his dinner I’d made earlier and placed it down in front of him so we could eat and chat and watch tv together.
We’d go to bed, talk and watch corny late night telly.
Going to sleep each night with a kiss and a ‘sweet dreams.’
I can only imagine how depressing it would be to come home to a silent, empty house. I can imagine how lonely it would be after being at work all day to try to find something to feed oneself.
There is no welcoming committee now. There is no pre-made meals. No arguing and yet no laughter.
I get it.
I totally do.
Work perhaps not, but I know what his home life was like and now it is all gone.
I wish it wasn’t how it is, but it is.
It isn’t forever. Only for a very short period in time but still it doesn’t make the present easier for anyone.
I can imagine him laying alone on that single bed, wishing for the screams of happiness and anger of all our kids, wishing that they’d climb all over him and totally disregard any kind of personal space or privacy. I can imagine him wanting to just come home and relax not having to cook or clean. I can imagine that perhaps he miss us a lot.
We miss him too.
The difficult part is that I don’t have hours alone to ponder on it.
I know that my kids won’t allow me a weak moment. I know my kids need a ‘leader’ they need direction and guidance and they need full-time attention all the time.
I can easily admit that I’m not always that person for them.
A long time ago I accepted that I was alone. That does not mean I do not have people around me. It doesn’t mean that I am lonely. It means that I have 100% taken total responsibility for myself, my kids and my life.
It means I have accepted that I am it.
I understand that every action I take has a reaction.
Trust me it makes life easier.
Acceptance of what life is for us as individuals. Acceptance of who we are and what we’re capable of. No actually I said that wrong. Acceptance of the fact that no matter how much we THINK we are capable of there is always more….
ALWAYS capable of more.
I am in this point in time -I say that because yesterday and the days before that were peachy and probably tomorrow will be too, if I want it to be- that I am a little, I don’t know….over it.
I’m feeling like that just because I have these beliefs that people assume I am ‘super’ or something, I use that word as it’s been said to me a few times over the past week. I wince a little at the word. Because in my warped sense of things I feel far from super. I know I’m capable of more and I’m not ‘up to scratch’ at the moment.
I offended Glen with my comment. I already feel bad that he is not with us, I already feel bad that I’m the one here with this ‘idyllic’ life, planting veggie gardens, building chook houses, being able to see my sister and brother, and he’s stuck in that hell hole alone (I apologise to you Blackwater people. Ok so it’s not really a hell hole, but it’s just not ‘home’ for us.) I focus on the highlights.
I feel like I cannot say things are difficult for me occasionally because it will make me seem unappreciative of all he has ever tried to do for us.
But the simple truth is that being here I am a singularly rasing our kids -for the moment- the truth is that it can be hard. The truth is that I would love to have a helping hand to put them to bed. A helping hand to pass out drinks while I dish out food, extra hands to search for school socks while I console a crying baby.
I do try make the best of everything. Dinner time I think of as fun. I like to cook. But with 5 kids running in and out of the kitchen it’s tough to concentrate on the task. I feel like a dancer when I cook. Swirling from the sink, to the utensils draw, spinning to the stove top to stir, then back to the sink to pour a drink for a puffed out kid, then to the window to check the rest are still within sight and safe, back to the oven. Dip in a finger to taste, swirl to the pantry for some salt….
Spin and twirl, dip, avoid child, hop over a drum (pot/pans) call out to ask them to come closer to the house. Slip on some spilt juice, call for a towel to wipe it up, again stir the pot, check the oven, sizzle some meat in a pan….
It does feel like a dance.
And to think of it that way makes me smile inside.
To provide a meal while attending to 5 kids, majority of which are toddlers under my feet is a task. A dangerous, difficult task which must be done with speed and efficiency.
And then to have each and every plate exactly the same to avoid conflict?…
It’s working for me.
But I do dream of how much simpler it could be if Glen were here to occupy them for half hour.
I compare life to years ago occasionally. Back when Bella was 6 and Sophie was 3 months old. I struggled. 5pm was her meltdown time. That wonderous time in the day where baby is worn out, grummbly and grissly and not really happy about anything, it also happened to be the time when I had to begin dinner.
I found it so hard to try to keep her happy for just a few moments while I attended to food bubbling over. The stress of a crying baby…..knowing that my then partner was sitting there watching me struggle, knowing he was physically capable of helping but choosing instead to watch me suffer, filled me with so much resentment, so much hate.
More often than not I’d stir, bake, roll, cook in tears while trying to bounce my crying baby on my hip.
I think back and wonder what’s changed.
How can I do almost triple that now with content inside?
The release of negativity.
The acceptance that it is all me.
This situation can be ok, or not ok but it is my choice.
I can see dinner time as a dance…or as torture….I know what I chose.
I had a cry this morning. Feeling like Glen was mad at me for saying he wasn’t a part of our lives. It is not his choice, it is not making him happy, but it is what it is.
I know what the kids need to pack in their school bags, I know what time I need to leave for the bus and where it picks them up, I know what time morning/afternoon tea, breakfast/lunch/ dinner and bed time are. I know which days the little girls go to pre-school and I know what they need to take. I know how long it takes to do each and every thing that needs to be done and I know how to mesh it all together so it works like clockwork. I know the kid’s school teachers. I know how much food I need to buy and which kids I must take with me, I also know what behaviour they will express while on those trips and how to counter act them.
It is hard, knowing I know all this and that Glen hasn’t had the chance to be a part of it.
We’ve had to establish our new life without him.
For now….we are world’s a part.
I don’t know how I can express to him that is not a permanent thing.
I don’t know how to reassure him that he is the most important man in our lives despite this temporary distance.
I don’t know how I can say ‘you haven’t been left behind’ we aren’t moving on without him, just coping with the present until he is here to be a part of it.
I don’t have time to sit and dwell on our situation.
I can’t let it consume me, I’d be capable of nothing.
And I wish he would understand that.
I am today, but trust me a lot of things are being neglected right now because I’ve chosen to ‘let it all out.’ I’m standing, typing in my kitchen. The heart of our house where everyone comes to beg for life-sustaining food and drink every half hour.
Doing the very bare minimum.
I’m probably just blabbing too.
I just wanted to express -once again- that I am not perfect, my life is far from perfect. I just have accepted the way things are. And to accept things, makes them easier to life with.
So yes, I guess Mrs Annonymus…..today the manure is making things ‘appear’ greener.
I feel for Glen. But occasionally it would be nice to have others ‘feel’ for me.
I may have accepted that I am ‘alone’ and have sole responsibility for now. But it doesn’t mean I am ‘super’ it doesn’t mean I am doing anything different from what you would be capable of, if you chose it.
You know?…I don’t know what I want to say.
I guess, that even though we are world’s a part, it would be nice to feel like there is a little understanding. No one will ever walk my shoes and I will never walk theirs.
I do what I can to understand others, but often feel like I do not get the same in return.
Then again I know everyone feels like that.
So now that I have consoled myself I shall get off my butt and get on with things. Bud needs a nappy change, my dishes are piled high. My floor has god only knows what on it…funny how the day you mop seems to be the messiest day of all. My girls are ‘bored’ without school and my garden needs weeding. I have to organise a lateish morning tea and work out what’s on for dinner. I have at least 3 loads of washing to hang and again the kiddies have decided to use my books to make ‘doll houses’ which end up demolished and left all across my lounge. There are toys strewn everywhere and my entire yard needs to be cleared for the slasher man who’ll randomly turn up next week. I have some Eco Princess orders to fill and a bathroom to scrub. I’m not entirely sure if I have the guts to go grocery shopping with them all so looks like some baking must be done for next week school snacks….
That’s the ‘perfect’ life right?
It is what it is.
Choose to dance or choose to drown.