coming together

 The lounge room which has gorgeous floorboards underneath the vinyl (looking like floorboards)

 A bit of a shitty problem.  Leaky throne, demolished now and new floorboards required.

Loving some more space sans demolition of ugly pantry.

Wishing that the floors still had the retro vinyl uncovered by demolition.  After a visit to local flooring supplier I am deflated by the lack of initiative and also the complete disgust at my non acceptance of the status quo aka revolting vinyl selections available.  Tomorrow the mission is to find the perfect tiles or reproduction vinyl for the bathroom.

The beginnings of a beautiful sunny space with amazing river and city views.

Still baffled by this bad boy.  The current suggestions are Gold sifting machine, a grape press, or a timber sander.  A mini mystery to be solved.

Kitchen bench painted.  Dulux Domino and a very very willing model keen for any photo opportunity.

This bench came from an an old menswear store V.C. Shear's in my hometown of Dalby. Owned by an interesting local character Vince Shear. 

There was boxes and piles of dust covering it when I spotted it one morning on the way to my early morning coffee before work. 

Trading had long since ceased and the quirky little shop complete with ancient old King Gee posters... was his residence in retirement. 

He was such a character with stories of war times and secret missions and passed a couple of years back. 

He only agreed to part with it when he learned who my grandparents were and their kindness in running him around to cards, get well cards and hosital appointments….cemented the deal. It's such a treasured item and gives me a lot of joy to see it recycled finally as my kitchen bench!!!!

a place to call home

It's only three sleeps away and the excitement I thought I would feel is yet to kick it.  I went to inspect the home I have just purchased this afternoon and I was overwhelmed to say the least.  

With three days to go, the tenants have left a mess and I felt dirty just walking in.  Grease, grime, abandoned furniture, shabby fridge not even worthy of the worst kind of leftovers.

The impending prospect of being in my own home again after parting with my own…. a casualty of a divorce and marriage to a financial and emotional train wreck, is to say the least, exhilarating.  After losing so much, it is such a humbling and inspiring time.  New beginnings, excitement, vision and future.

However, the prospect of packing, painting, cleaning, working, home readers, two trips to Lake Barrington for Regatta's in the never-ending rowing season, lunches to pack, social engagements to attend, kids parties to participate in…. is just freaking exhausting!  

Thankfully, I'm armed with my 'trusted men' (think Nicole Kidman in Australia).   Painter A and Handyman M…. who I am certain will come to my rescue.  They are of course more apprehensive than I...but after we chewed the fat this afternoon, made some plans, commented on the enormity of the task at hand, I wrapped it up with my enthusiastic and romantic take on the vision of the project and how fabulous it would all look once I pulled it together…..

I think they are gradually coming on board.

So much work to do and some interesting objects to deciper. 

On the inside….I was shaking.  WTF have I got myself into.  ????  But a project manager must never show weakness…not even in the face of potentially what could be the remains of a drug lab in the ceiling, a renegade, eleventh hour squatter climbing out the downstairs window (note to self…install new locks) reluctant to part with his prime Sandy Bay water view location.

That was the moment I needed to do some quick thinking to trick my brain into action, quell the alarm bells ringing with vigour in my mind…… 

Slowly…I  opened the door adjacent the kitchen and took a long, deep breath and surveyed my surroundings.

  

After a deep breath… a knowing glance directed at the real estate agent and my courage is re-born.

So it's not too shabby after all.  The work will get done, Autumn will come, the fire will get stoked and the dream will be given life.  In the meantime, I look forward to the short term reward for settlement day with my best girls.

Perspective

Tomorrow the smalls come home after 10 days on the big island.  I was desperate for them to go and get loved up by grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins along with old friends from my hometown.

I couldn't wait for the break, the things I would do, the peace I would feel, the tasks I would achieve would be colossal and transform me back into the superwoman I knew I could be.  The hero cape wasn't flying so high lately and I decided a break from day to day practical parenting responsibilities would fix it.

I'm fairly sure I already knew this but I love my kids to bits.  I don't want to spend lots of time away from them.  I forgot and was confused by bearing the weight of too many titles that I wear as CEO of this small family.  Provider, mother, father, grandparents, mentor, housekeeper, cook and cleaner.

I want to be the kind of mama that is full of love, patience, wisdom, sacrifice but often I'm just not.

Often I want to escape to work, to friends, to activities, to books and stories of others lives.  I want rest from the responsibilities of solo parenting and the daunting task of shaping and guiding three lives.  This is a tough one when I don't get my own part right all the time.

I am in an isolated position of being given parenting feedback by only three people.  The children. As most parents would know, the negative feedback comes often and is most usually a complaint about the unfairness or meanness and often the food quality.

Their is no one else on your team or a coach to give you a pep talk at half time.  The job is simply mine.  But there is where it can be a great thing as well.  I get to do things my way all the time.  I don't need a democratic process in terms of leading the family which can be quite good.  The highs of parenting are mine alone and I can be proud of the job I'm doing when things go well.

Here comes the catch.  The thing I realized that I was really wanting was not to escape the kids, but to share them.  I wanted someone else who loves them to enjoy, understand and delight in them with me.  Often the highs are bittersweet as they can be the loneliest of times for a solo parent.

I can work, earn a living, provide social opportunities, sports, recreation and basic necessities for them pretty well.  I have kind of nailed the practical aspects for my tribe and am thankful I have the resourcefulness to bounce back and think outside the square with what they need.

I see that they have stacks of people to enjoy and appreciate them.  My lack is not their own, it's mine alone.  I see so clearly that I need to make peace with this to fully enjoy what is right in front of me.

Their measure is not the same as mine.  They don't see it through my lens of growing up with stacks of extended family around.  They don't see that lack.  They have never known a family with two parents.

It takes a village to raise a child and I look around and whilst ours is not traditional, it's solid and diverse and ever changing.  It's more than enough.

Home Town Blues

For whatever reason the topic of my hometown has come up an awful lot this past few weeks.  I always feel pretty emotional when I think about memories from home.  Especially in recent years when I find myself in the solo waters of raising a family and creating a home for them.

You see I always imagined subconsciously that my children would be surrounded by extended family.  I assumed that our shared values and traditions would be based on the simplicity of good living, honest dealings and generosity of  ones talents and abilities.

I made judgments that they would become fine young people based on the influences that I hold dear of my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and other extended family.

I grew up alongside of a large extended family who 'did life' together.  I admire and respect so much the times I shared with them.  Nothing sweeter that the smell of a BBQ on a summer night, running wild as children in the luscious gardens of my family home, or the scent of dust, grass and cotton on a hot night whilst running in and out of the conversations and laughter of the parents present at a farm party.

We shared as freely with our dear cousins as we did our siblings and endured the endless tennis tournament weekends our parents took or trips out west to visit friends on sheep grazing properties. Looking back, those Queensland bush tennis courts, weekends with friends and summer time BBQ's are held with such fond memories and innocent forced friendships that form the soul of who I am today.

I appreciate so much those simplicities now that my parents gave me, when now faced with the torment and arguments that prelude a trip to the local football match.

I won't ever give these up as I know I am forming memories for my children to cherish later on.  What I would give now for one of those long, drawn, out boring days.  So sweet now seem the fact that we were thrown together on those days.

I see that Australian Story is now about to broadcast a story about someone from our hometown next month and I feel so sad to be away from home.

Why I blog