29 April 2011

Captured

Discovery by harlusphotos




cap·ture - To succeed in preserving in lasting form

28 April 2011

A classic example of Serendipty

My room is a mess.

If you looked up the word "hovel" in the dictionary, there would be a picture of my bedroom. Washing baskets full of clean clothes lying dormant, waiting to be put away. Unmade bed. Clutter. Dust. Just plain "YUCK!"

Having such clutter in the house, and in particularly in the room which is supposed to be my little slice of peace and tranquility, is really starting to do my head in. The clutter starts to invade my mind. I feel "hemmed in". I feel trapped. And I keep putting it off. Too hard, too overwhelming, have better things to do. I have oodles of excuses that I could run off to just avoid the inevitable.

Watching Hoarders last night on TV, and yes the irony is not lost on me, I watched houses that were just filled to the brink of capacity with stuff. It did put things into perspective for me that a) my house is no where even remotely near to being that bad and b) claim your room back....NOW!!

Before Squeak and I scuttled off to bed, I inform Husband that tomorrow is "clean up my room day".

I started on it first thing this morning. The silence of me cleaning seemed to drag the time out for much longer and I needed something to distract me from the internal monologue of  "oh god I am never going to get this done" followed by sound bites of the music used in the Hoarders episodes everytime I opened up another cupbaord door (disclaimer: I am Leo and we tend to lean towards the dramatic).

A thought pops into my head, "flick on the radio". A scan through the stations from the clock radio on the bedside table and I stumble across Richard Fidlers voice.

"Oh its the Conversation Hour. He always has guests with the most interesting stories"

Soon I hear the voice of a woman. She is talking about her childhood which was filled with abuse. My ears prick up. Stories of women who have been in abusive situations always draw me in like a magnet, especially since I have been there once myself. However this abuse was of the worst kind. Her voice is warm and strong, her story is said with such matter of factness that I listen closer. Soon she is talking about how she moved from childhood into adult relationships where her husband at the time was not a particularly nice fellow who did not treat her well at all. When asked if she unconsciously attracted men who would be abusive, she just said "No I think it is a part in you where you don't think you are deserving". I understood. That point just reverberated through me.

She proceeded to tell her story on how she started having anxiety attacks and how it started to take over her life. I too suffer from attacks, and it was very interesting to see how hers manifested itself different to my own.

Finally, the name of this beautiful story teller is mentioned. She is Annie Reuss. Unfortunately, the interview was soon over but she left with some parting words of support for other suffers. Richard mentioned that she also has a blog, called Life and Dandelions. Just the most fantastic name for a blog, don't you think?

During my self imposed excuse of a "lunch break for Squeak", I went looking for her blog and the article in particular in which she talks about the start of her attacks. It is well worth a look, even if its just to giggle at the photo she attached to her post.

http://www.lifeanddandelions.com/2011/03/today-my-cranky-pants-unnerved-me.html

So I guess today I had a two pronged therapy session. I was able to get my space back to being the clean and sparse room that I want it to be; while listening to and empathising with the plight of fellow sister in angst.

25 April 2011

Earth Day

As if it was ordained by Mother Earth herself, it was a glorious sunny day and surprisingly warm. The last week has seen daily consistent rain and the littlest people were starting to develop signs of cabin fever.

The sun had broken through and immediately after breakfast, the tribe headed outside to bathe in its warmth. Squeak was undertaking her usual duty of inspecting the plants and practising her walking up and down the step while steadfastly refusing to listen to my implores of  "please keep your hat on."  Imp was busily and noisily making her latest attempt of breaking the land speed record that could possibly be achieved on a tricycle, covering the short distance of the back verandah.

Giggles soon punctuated the air as The Littles had accessed the trampoline with the help of Husband. There was a hectic mixture of jumping, running, and tumbling. I felt a pang of wishing I was younger and more limber with some semblance of coordination.

The opportunity of decent weather was also seized upon to inspect how well the vegetables were doing. Unfortunately we have lost another Rosemary plant. We seem to not have very good luck in getting them to flourish, so it's back to the books to see what we are doing wrong. Also Imp's mystery plant, which has morphed from the possibility of being a strawberry to a pumpkin, had not done very well. Husband has suspicions that the plant had been genetically modified at some point as the "fruit" does not progress past initial growth. Previous discussion with Imp about extracting her plant had resulted in protests and frantic, protective hugging of her pumpkin. But today she came to the realisation that the plant was going to be pulled and was okay with it.

This was her first time dealing with a loss. It was a great opportunity to teach her about ebb and flow, how living things do not last forever. That it was okay to feel sad. So we said goodbye to her pumpkin, which she decided to place in the compost and then spent time with Husband to plant some garlic.

So the cycle starts again.

My type of Blackberry

14 April 2011

My home. My cave. My sanctuary.



"For our house is our corner of the world. As has often been said, it is our first universe, a real cosmos in every sense of the word. If we look at it intimately, the humblest dwelling has beauty" Gaston Bachelard  - The Poetics of Space.


The idea of "home" has been resonating with me rather loudly over the past month. Home conjures up words like peace; soft place to land; serenity; sanctuary. A place for the family tree to put down roots.

I have been rather opposed to the concept of settling down. I moved out of the family home not long before I turned 20 and then spent a few years moving from house to house; suburb to suburb. It was a definite case of itchy feet, enjoy the freedom to roam in a gypsy like manner and also of having the luxury of no ties which would require a level of continuity or stability. Also, being renter instead of an owner meant that I did not have to worry about those silly things like mortgages, and all the encumbrances that come with that responsibility. My eldest spent the first two years of his life moving house more times than he had celebrated his birthday.

The biggest move I have undertaken was moving to another state. And now, with the addition of two small children, I feel that I must be responsible and settle in one place. The chance of us becoming home owners is beyond our reach and that is something that we have begrudgingly forced ourselves to come to terms with. It is difficult because we do not feel comfortably within ourselves, a sense of permanency. There is no such notion of changing colour schemes, or upgrading kitchens.

We have found a wonderful haven. We are not hemmed in by neighbours. There is space. There is freedom to move around and I find this particularly important with children as they have so much energy to expend on a daily basis. There are things about this house which truly annoy me and cause me to vocalise my frustrations, but I have a bond with this house. A tie to it.

My last child was born here. In the spare bedroom to be exact. I can walk passed that room and memories come flooding back. Squeak has been found playing on the exact spot she came into the world. Not many can do that. It feels so humbling; so logical that she is able to literally be right where she first joined our family. Almost mystical in a way. I think this one of the reasons that makes me not want to leave this house. I do not want to pull her away from her birthplace.

So we are laying roots; in the shape of veggie patches, flower gardens. We may not be able to do things like get rid of the electrifying cobalt blue which drowns our kitchen cupboards, but we can change the colour and shape of the landscape outside. We are making our micro-cosmos here. I cannot wait to watch the new creations which will unfold in our little corner of the world.

http://maniacalmom.com/



13 April 2011

Captured


anticipation by harlusphotos


cap·ture - To succeed in preserving in lasting form

New blog, New post.

In my previous incarnation, I had a blog of photos that I had taken. As much fun as that was, I was starting to realise that the really interesting and totally random things that occurred were not possible to capture through a lens. I did not want these moments to slip by without some record of them.


Many moons ago I used to be particularly good at creative writing. My English teacher and even my fourth grade teacher were adamant I would either become a journalist or an author. So I guess I am finally making my way back to the path of being a story teller, even if it is for my own selfish pleasure.