Death, Happiness and a New Year

It's New Year's Eve and I woke up this morning thinking about death. I have no idea why; maybe it's to do with the year ending? I also had an urge to get everything that was going through my head written down while it was all fresh in my mind, which I guess also makes sense; clearing out the old to get ready for the new.

I'm aware that reading this blog is one of the ways my kids will discover more about me in the future. So, if I feel a need to write things down for them while I have the chance, then I'll do it. Maybe it will bring them some sense of peace one day after I'm gone.

On the subject of death, since it's the thought I woke up with, I want them to know I'm not afraid of dying. I'm sure I've said it before, but it's worth repeating. Of course, I have the same irrational fear of the unknown that most people share, but I think that's more to do with the fear of illness or pain before the actual death occurs. I'm not frightened of what comes next or where I'll be afterwards. I'm not in any hurry to get there, but I honestly believe that I will go to a place where I can still be around everyone I love who is alive, and also with loved ones I've lost along the way. I find it reassuring to think we'll be together again one day and I'm sure that belief has made it a little easier for me to come to terms with losing people.

When it comes to irrational fear around death, I'm more afraid of something happening to one of the kids. Like most parents, I worry far more for my children than I do for myself. I adore each of them, and like every other child on the planet, they probably won't realise just how much until they have children of their own.

I remember when, as a child myself, I worried that my Mum was going to die unexpectedly. Not just one day in the future, but right then - I would see her napping on the couch and panic that she might not wake up. Maybe that's a normal fear for a child though. I also remember thinking Mum was afraid of death. That may have been true when she was younger but when it came to her actually dying, in her sixties, she didn't seem afraid at all. She told us she accepted whatever would come and that her only sadness was that she would have wanted to be with us, her children and grandchildren, for a few more years. She also had that concern about whether there might be any pain beforehand, but once the doctor assured her that he didn't expect there would be, I saw her visibly relax.

We've lost a number of people in recent years. My two teens have both lost dear friends to illness, the Caveman and I have each lost one parent (which of course means the kids have lost two much-loved grandparents), and just recently a gentleman we knew took his own life. Every death has an impact on everyone who knew that person; even more so if the death comes sooner than expected or in a seemingly senseless way. I know that when you're left behind, it doesn't always feel like the person you've lost is still around - and, of course, nothing is the same as actually having them there in person to talk to and share special moments with, to hug and to be held by.

However, I've made it clear to everyone who knows me that I absolutely DO believe in signs from people who have passed on. If I'm able, I can promise that after I'm gone I will send signs to my family that I'm still around them in some form and I hope it brings them comfort. Something I often say to my kids is: 'If you think something might be a sign, believe that it is.'

Of course, you can't talk about death without also discussing life. I want my kids to know that yes, there are times in life when it seems like nothing is good or happy. Sometimes, if you get caught up in the tragedy of it all, it feels like we're all just here to die in the end. I've been there too ... wondering what the purpose or meaning of life even is. (At this point my husband, the 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' fan, would probably laugh and say it's 42.)

I don't know the meaning of life.  I don't know if there is a purpose to us being here, but I believe we're supposed to learn and grow throughout the journey. I also believe life is filled with joyful moments and amazing experiences that will have us smiling to ourselves and shaking our heads in wonder. It's a matter of recognising those moments, appreciating them, and placing them above the unhappy moments. I get into trouble with my husband sometimes for saying happiness is a choice - and yes, I know it's not always that simple. I struggle with it myself at times. But I think what you choose to focus on makes a genuine difference to your overall mental health and wellbeing. I like to remind myself that the happy moments in my life have far outweighed the sad ones.

Life is good, really. I wish everyone a happy 2019 filled with valuable experiences and precious memories.

Happy Christmas to All

It's Christmas Day in Australia ... two months since I last blogged (I'm really not reliable at this!). I've had a disorganised lead up to the big day, which is unusual for me. I've been working a lot lately and running myself down a bit, so I spent most of the previous two days just popping back to the shops for things I forgot (and kicking myself because the crowds have been awful - I prefer to avoid the last minute rush). I really worried that today wouldn't go well, but it turned out okay. In honour of the occasion, I've reworked a classic Christmas poem:

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse (well, not now that we've given up on the cat being any good at mousing and started laying out traps for them ourselves instead).

The stockings were hung with care - none of the kids believe in Santa anymore, but of course "Mum, we still want our stockings!" I told them once they stop believing in the big guy, they get underpants in their stockings, but they said they were fine with that.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds ... eventually. I think we all hit the sack somewhere between 11pm and midnight. I have no idea what visions were dancing in the kids' heads, but I'm sure I was seeing double by the time mine landed on the pillow.

If there was any clatter, I didn't hear it. I'm pretty sure St Nick didn't call his reindeer by name outside my window, or I would have leapt out of bed just to throw a broomstick in his general direction. Oh, and heaven help him if he dared to break into my house and mess with my neatly packed stockings!

The only rosy cheeks I saw this morning were my own, after I woke up at the slightly offensive hour of 5 am and put some makeup on so as to not scare normal people away.

I know none of it rhymes. I don't care. I'm tired. This is why, if I'm going to do a Christmas blog, I usually do it at least a few days in advance, when I'm in love with the season and wishing everyone peace.

This morning, once I pulled up my big girl panties and made a beeline for the coffee, I figured the day would go the way it was meant to and I was ready for anything. But it ended up being a great morning. Everyone loved their gifts. We had an early lunch and lots of good conversation. Not everything went to plan; I didn't have time to make the pavlova and I forgot all about the honey soy chicken pieces that were already prepared and in the fridge. But it was good anyway and I'd happily do it all again tomorrow.

I do wish everyone peace, and love and health and happiness. Friends who have lost loved ones are, as always, at the front of my mind. I know it's hard. This is my second Christmas without my Mum, and even though it's much easier than last year, she still hovers in my thoughts regularly. I also find as the kids get older that I enjoy every little bit of Christmas spirit that we share - the older two are just about all grown up now and could fly the nest anytime, and I'm aware we'll never get this time back. I'm pretty certain we'll never again convince all of them to pile into one little car with us to cruise around and check out the Christmas lights!

The only tradition we have still to honour this year is the Christmas movie. It doesn't matter which one. We have two or three that we watch together every year, so our afternoon is set.

Right after I have a nap.

It's 'Bean' a Mess!

This week I watched the garbage truck pick up our bin and tip the contents into the back without incident ... and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Just over a week ago we had a storm which made international headlines. Our little corner of South East Queensland was hit by something which has been termed a "hailnado". It sounds like the title of a bad movie, but it's a fair description for a storm which had thunder, lightning, strong winds going in every direction, really heavy rain and hail coming at the house horizontally at times. There was lots of damage reported in all the areas that were hit and we were actually very fortunate to get away fairly lightly at our place.

The storm also contributed somewhat to an entirely unexpected issue at our house. After the storm we had a few days of rain - which was excellent, we needed it!. But we had a couple of dogs here that we were looking after, for a friend who was moving house. The dogs were afraid of storms, so our teenagers made sure they were safe inside a room under our house when the storm hit, as well as for some time afterwards when the rain was hanging around. It was a good idea, the dogs stayed warm and dry.

However, that room is a bit of a chill out area for our teens. There's a spare bed down there, an Xbox, a table and a couple of chairs ... and a bean bag. You can see where this is going, right? Two bored dogs shut inside with a lovely, puffy bag of beans. Sure enough, after we'd returned the dogs to their owner, one of my teens went to move the bean bag and POOF! Little white beans everywhere. One (or both?) of the dogs had managed to create a hole in the bag.

The first I knew of this was when I went downstairs to ask one of the kids a question and I noticed our green wheelie bin standing outside the door. I opened the lid, only to see the bin was half-filled with loose bean bag beans! My teens had cleaned up the mess, but unintentionally created a new problem. Can you imagine what would have happened when the rubbish truck lifted the bin into the air and upturned it to open the lid? If you've ever had the delightful experience of dealing with bean bag beans yourself, I'm sure the picture is forming in your mind.

After a quick lecture to the kids about the perils (and possible fines) of casting our own unique brand of 'snow' over the neighbourhood - not to mention the environmental and wildlife impact - we set about removing the beans from the bin and bagging them up. That's easier said than done, I might add. It involved my industrial-sized vacuum cleaner, four household bin liners and a LOT of patience. The whole operation had to be done inside the house due to the 'flyaway' nature of the beans. They're slippery little suckers at the best of times, without a breeze to complicate matters.

As I said, to see the bin emptied a day or two later (with only the odd stray bean left on the ground after the truck moved off) was a big relief. We have a new rule at home now ... no more bean bags!

Better Days Ahead

A couple of weeks ago, a realisation popped into my head. It was simply, "I am okay now". It took me by surprise, but I really am.

The Caveman and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary last month, and genuinely congratulated ourselves for reaching this milestone. For a short time there, it actually looked like we might not make it. The first 6 or 7 months of this year was a difficult time for our family, with financial and emotional pressures taking a toll.

With the Caveman having six months off work so he could focus on study, our finances took a major hit. By the end of his course we were struggling to get by. While other parents were out buying cars for their teenagers and sending them off to University, we were letting important bills slide in order to feed ourselves. It's a dreadful position to be in, especially when you're both in your mid-40's. You feel like you should be on top of things by then. The Caveman was also struggling with the exhaustion brought on by constant studying and the pressure to pass what turned out to be a much more intensive course than anyone anticipated.

As if those problems weren't enough, our grief for my Mum had a big impact too. I coped by pushing it aside in order to function at work and at home, but that made me a difficult person to live with. I was snappy and short with everyone around me, then weepy and guilt-ridden when I realised I'd hurt them. I felt like the Caveman didn't support me enough when I needed it most, then pushed him away when he tried to help me. He also adored Mum and was grieving for her himself, of course, but we were both out of energy and patience. We each felt misunderstood by the other and even wondered if we should take a break from our marriage. That's really saying something too, because we've been through hard times in the past and only been this close to giving up once before - about 15 years ago. Luckily, communication has always been a strong point in our relationship and it saved us this time, just as it did back then. It just took us a while to reconnect and for both of us to work through it together. We had to find each other again and I'm pleased that we have.

Naturally, losing their Nanna and then watching their parents' marriage almost implode has had a big impact on our kids, plus they each had their own personal issues to deal with. Our teens in particular have been struggling with health issues and the pressures of job hunting in a (somewhat cliquey) regional town. The first half of 2018 was definitely a trial for our whole family.

Things are slowly improving now though. The Caveman is back at work and we are getting on top of our bills. We're enjoying our marriage again. We even treated ourselves to a (very cheap!) night away for our anniversary. The kids have had more successes than failures just recently and we all feel like the future is brighter. I don't know what made me turn my own personal corner, but I really am okay. I'm not saying I've finished grieving; I miss my Mum, and always will, but I'm coping (for real this time!). The smile I give people now is a genuine one, rather than a front to cover a sadness that felt like it would always underline everything else.

Life is going on, as it should.

Girls' Night Out

On the weekend, I went out. I mean "properly" out. As in, a night on the town with female friends.

Do you know how long it's been since I did that? I wasn't sure myself, so I thought about it. It would have to be about 7 years ... in my mid-thirties. I've got photos of myself from 2011 on outings with friends, and there's been nothing since then.

At that time, I was part of our very own WAGS (Wives And Girlfriends) group; all partners of players at the cricket club my husband played for at that time. They were fun times. We'd get together every so often, leaving the partners and children at home, to go out clubbing for the night or to the horse races for the afternoon. I enjoyed it, especially having never had any close friends in my life that I'd done that with before.

I never went clubbing at the age most people do it. When I was 19, 20, etc, I was way too shy (and too serious, if I'm honest) to loosen up and enjoy a drink and dance with a room full of people. I thought it was a waste of time and money. Also, drunk people scared me.

Anyway, after that burst in my thirties, it dropped away again. The WAGS group fell away as people got busy with their own families and grew apart. My husband doesn't even play with that same cricket club anymore. I figured my "going out with the girls" days were over.

Until I was invited to, of all things, a linen party. This was with women I used to work with at the aged care facility up until this year. I've missed them so much. I find the hardest thing with working Community is the lack of regular contact with colleagues. It really is a solo job, for the most part. There is no morning tea or lunch break with other staff, where you share how your shift is going so far and the only time we really get to see each other is at staff meetings every couple of months. If it weren't for Facebook, I probably would have lost touch with them altogether. Luckily, someone thought to invite me to this linen party - and also mentioned that a group might go out on the town afterwards. I thought, "Yeah, why not?" So I went along to the party (and had a fantastic time catching up with them all, what a lot of laughs!), had a couple of drinks, then joined about three of them on a trip to the pubs. The places we went to were fairly quiet - not a lot of people out and about for a Saturday night - and I was home just after midnight. But we had a fun time and enjoyed each other's company. The others now know that I'm happy to be part of social occasions with them and I hope we do more of it in future.

On a side note though, on going to places where those 19 and 20 year olds go, I'm really happy I didn't run into any of my son's friends the other night ... that may have been just slightly embarrassing for both of us!

Basket Case

Isn't it funny how the most mundane household items can bring great joy? I don't mean coffee machines, or dishwashers, or massage chairs - not every household has those, so they're still luxury items as far as I'm concerned. I'm talking really mundane here...

A couple of days ago we had a rental inspection. It's a routine thing, we get them every three months. The property manager comes and walks around and through our house, checking for damage and maintenance issues to report back to the home owner. The problem is, like so many rental tenants, we feel a lot of pressure to have the house as clean as possible for the inspection. This is partly because of the stigma of being renters - everyone hears stories about the bad ones who trash the houses they live in; damaging walls, piling rubbish everywhere, etc. Those people give the rest of us a bad name and we worry that we may be judged harshly if we have clutter. We know if the house looks messy, the home owner might think it's a sign that we couldn't be bothered looking after the place.

Personally, we've also had a bad experience in the past with an agent at another house we lived in. She ignored our explanation that we had been away for most of the week prior to inspection with one of our children in hospital in another town, and judged our house cleaning rather than our house care (and there is a difference). She actually said to me, "Your house should look like a show home when I come to inspect it." That's not true of course, but I'm sure it made her feel good to say it. She probably felt even better when she gave us a bad report and we nearly weren't approved for the next rental we applied for at another real estate agent. It doesn't take much to make a family homeless these days. We had many sleepless nights thanks to that woman and I actually had visions of us living beside the river in a tent (which I would have happily named after her).

Anyway, back to the story. One habit my charming family has is to drop their dirty washing on the laundry floor for me. There is a hamper in the bathroom, as well as in a couple of the bedrooms, but when there is something that needs to be washed more urgently, or is really wet, it will often be thrown straight into the laundry. The floor is tiled and can handle it .... but I was getting sick of having a pile of clothes to step around whenever I was in there. It was easy enough to throw the lot into the washing machine (out of sight for the inspection), but I knew I needed a solution for the longer term. 

Which brings me to the mundane household item I referred to ... a washing basket. I bought an extra one yesterday and I love it. On sale at Big W, cheap, plain white plastic with holes for air flow and handles for carrying. It seems a silly thing to get excited over, but I did! It now holds pride of place just inside the laundry door, but out of the walkway, where everyone can throw their washing and I know it's all neatly in place. I know, I know, small things and all that ...

Of course, the basket may not look quite as good to me when it's full of washing, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Probably tomorrow.

What were they thinking?

Ah, cricket. What a great game.

I do mean that seriously, even though a little sarcasm might not seem out of place right now. The game of cricket is usually played with respect and honour, by national and local teams. I know a lot of people will claim that ball tampering happens everywhere to some extent, but it's really not a common thing for most players to do.

I don't need to say a lot on the fiasco involving the Australian team in South Africa last week. It's all playing out in the media - and probably will continue to for a number of weeks yet. Needless to say, it will have an impact on players at every level of cricket. My own husband and son, who both play in our local competition, were horrified by the whole thing; absolutely gutted that the heroes they look up to would stoop to that level to try to get ahead in a match.

For me personally, it has been fascinating to watch. I'm actually not a huge fan of Steve Smith or David Warner, and never have been. No particular reason, I've just never really taken to either of them. I would never have imagined a scenario like this though. I do find myself feeling a little sorry for them, as well as Cameron Bancroft and Darren Lehmann, as the saga continues to unfold. I think the punishments handed out so far are fair - even though I know there are other teams around the world who have broken the rules in a similar way and been punished to a lesser extent. As far as I'm concerned, the penalties for such actions SHOULD be harsh, and if Australia sets a new standard here then maybe it will be a good thing for the sport in the long run. 

On another note, as a Mum, I couldn't help but wonder how the players' parents felt when the news first broke. I imagine there would be a mixture of horror at what they've done, combined with a burning desire to protect them from the world and make sure they get through this scandal with their mental health intact. I also believe their families should be left out of the entire thing by the media and by the general public ... complete strangers attacking players' wives online over a choice their husbands made is a really low act.

There has been a flood of new memes on social media, thanks to all this drama. Many of them are quite hilarious, although I'm guessing it will be a long time before any of the players involved can see the funny side. It seems harsh right now that we're being laughed at by the rest of the world, but we're quick enough to dish it out when it's someone else who has stuffed up. We really have no right to complain. It's so Australian, to make fun of ourselves and each other.

I'm sure Australian cricket will be tainted for some time and we'll have to fight our way back but, as the saying goes, this too shall pass.

Community Minded

It's been another long break from the blog for me, I'm afraid. Oops.

We've had so much going on. There have been times whole weeks have gone by in the blink of an eye. I have people to see, places to go, things to do ... but not much else is getting done outside of work, the school run and cleaning the house at the moment.

I was feeling a bit lost towards the end of last year and, while I know my Mum's death had a lot to do with that, a large part of it was also dissatisfaction in my job. For a year now, I've been working in an aged care facility and also doing Community Care. For two or three shifts a fortnight I would work in the facility, but my other shifts were spent visiting people in their homes.

Working in Community is very different to working in a facility and constantly switching between the two can really keep you on your toes. The pace in an aged care facility, with over 60 residents, is quite fast. There are a lot of people to shower, toilet, dress, move into the dining room and back again, organise for activities, etc, etc. The upside is that it is structured; the routine is similar every day and you get to work as part of a team. It's often a fun, supportive environment to work in. The downside is that it's very busy. Doing some paperwork in the office can sometimes seem like a reprieve, rather than a chore ... at least you get to sit down for a few minutes!

Community Care can feel a bit rushed too, but it's more in making sure you get to each person's house on time and fit the tasks required in the time allowed, plus there's paperwork to do in the car in between clients. We're pretty much out there on our own - the mobile phone is our only contact with other staff. The days can be long and there is a lot of driving, which I don't mind really, although I do worry about the wear and tear on my car (using a fleet car is a rare treat). A fair bit of the work is house cleaning, or taking people shopping. I don't much enjoy housework, but what I do like about Community is the variety in tasks and that there is generally more one-on-one time spent with each client. 

Keeping up with what felt like two different jobs meant that I was starting to run down physically and emotionally. I was ready for a change and restless enough to wonder if I should even look at a different industry. Luckily for me, those of us who have been working in both roles were recently given the option of choosing one. The timing couldn't have been better. After some deliberation, I chose Community Care. It came as a surprise to some of the other staff - many of those who started in facility like me have decided that's what they'd prefer to stick to. Working in Community suits me though and I'm back to loving my job again.

The other advantage of Community for me is that the hours are a little more flexible. We currently have the Caveman studying to further his career opportunities, but his course is in another town, an hour away. With him leaving early in the morning to get there on time, I have to be at home to do the school run with the kids (which he used to do). The school run now incorporates getting our youngest to his school and the older two to our local TAFE, which is on the other side of town, so it's great that I've been able to arrange to start work a little later for the time being. The afternoon pickup isn't really an issue; the Caveman is usually home by that time.

Life has been hectic recently, to say the least. On my days off though, I'm finally sorting the house out. 20+ years and three kids adds up to a lot of clutter! But that may be a whole other blog post...