Just an Ordinary Home

Curtains I made from a Japanese muslin sheet and some remnant 50′s polyester weave that was my Nanna’s.

On my desk. My new/old pocket watch keeping time and my most favourite things, my wedding rings.

Jewels

Lettuces, tomatoes and “bubby carrots” all from the garden.

Navigational Skills

I have been feeling a little lost of late. It being the season of new beginnings and all, I have been feeling like I should be getting on with something. But with life being what it is, I find myself in a state of limbo for the time being. With my surgery a couple of weeks away and not being able to get babies over and done with for at least another year (assuming of course that my surgery goes well), I am unable to commit to either expanding my business or going to work for someone else. Both of which I’d have to do full-time to make them financially worthwhile but anything full-time just isn’t possible right now because financially it just doesn’t work out with F needing care. So I’m looking at another few years of not being able to do anything big be it babies, house stuff or even a decent holiday.

All of this was making me feel stuck and a bit crap.

With big things being so unfeasible I thought maybe the antidote to feeling stuck would be to focus my energy on little things. I do occasionally have visions of a perfectly scrubbed house and the satisfaction I feel when all the things are clean but life’s too short for never-ending housework.

So I thought this year, as a start, as a way of feeling like I am doing something productive and as part of my ongoing goal to consume and spend less, that I’d try and make all of my own clothes instead of buying them. This also fits in with my goal of clearing out my wardrobe because as if I am going to have time make enough clothes to fill it up again.

In progress right now is a merino, alpaca and silk blend hand knit cardigan. Part of my plan to wear more nice woolly things in winter around the house rather than ugly as f* tracksuits. Which may result in me actually feeling better about myself and able to leave the house without having to get changed. Win!

And next up is a pinafore dress from this book made with some coral metallic stripe material that was my Nanna’s, I think it’s a poly/cotton blend. Oh there’s a whole list of garments planned, I won’t go through them all.

It had occurred to me that perhaps I am seeking solace in doing and keeping busy rather than doing some kind of work with my feelings because that was the trap I fell into before. But then I realised that I am actually working with my feelings. I am managing to find joy and satisfaction in a simple day even if I have done no more than a load of washing and made a loaf of bread. Making my own clothes is simply something else that makes me happy and I find incredibly satisfying. It makes me feel good.

I must remind myself that it is these things that are enough for me. Not should be enough. But are enough. Because occasionally I do get caught up in thinking that I should be achieving the big things. The world is my oyster, I can do anything! Especially when I have so many talented friends, especially childless, female friends, who are getting on with the big things and that can make me feel small, shit and backward. I am 30 (nearly 31!) by now I should have…

I forget that whilst materially life might not be so big and exciting, emotionally I have crossed oceans. I have faced so many emotional challenges and gawd dammit I have conquered them all so far. Emotional challenges I have come to realise that all of us will face at some stage in our lives and that coming through them is no less of an achievement (perhaps arguably more so) than buying a house or even earning that first million.

Because I do feel wealthy now. I am rich with knowledge and experience. I mustn’t let it bother me that my wealth isn’t the kind that is desired by most. The flashy kind of wealth. The kind of wealth that garners common adulation.

THIS can be enough. This IS enough. And that’s it isn’t it? The precious secret hidden beneath the maelstrom of modern (particularly Western) life.

F woke up in the middle of the night last night, G went in, scooped him up and settled him in bed with us. Snuggled up all together, warm and quiet I thought ‘this is all that matters, this is all we need’. This is happiness.

Midsummer Garden

Marvel

I have taken to slipping into F’s room before I go to bed at night, sitting quietly on the end of his bed and watching him sleep.

And just marvelling at him, lying there, breathing quietly.

He’s stringing long sentences together now and his words are getting clearer every day. But when he can’t say what he wants he’s perfected the art of miming. Today he wanted his toy cash register and when I couldn’t work out what he was trying to say he mimed pressing the button to open the cash drawer and said “Bing!” The look of achievement on his face when he realised he’d made himself understood made my heart burst with pride.

I walk a fine line between encouraging him to try and work things out for himself and not letting a situation get to the point where he is so frustrated he has a melt down. But he is a little sponge right now, never before have I had the opportunity to see someone so visibly learning. Sometimes I think I can almost see the sparks of recognition, understanding and accomplishment firing behind those bright blue eyes.

I hope I am doing a good job. I think I am doing a good job. I certainly feel like I am when he comes over and asks me, so many times a day, for a “big cuddle”. I squeeze him tight, breathe him in and then let him go again.

Waiting, waiting.

So. I am scheduled for more surgery (the third round) on my cervix next month. Then I have to wait for at least two clear check ups before we can start trying for another baby.

This means no baby next year.

I haven’t had a clear result in three years.

I think I will be ok if we only have one child. Although I really want F to have a sibling. Not for me or us, but for him. I keep thinking about him having to make decisions about us when we are old and decrepit and I think those kinds of things will be so much easier with someone else to share the load.

But it is how it is. If it means I get to live until I am old and decrepit then I am sure F won’t mind.

The Meaning

I’m really having trouble with Christmas.

Perhaps I could be accused of over-thinking it but I’m struggling to find the meaning of Christmas for our family. G was baptised Catholic and I am supposedly Anglican but neither of us are at all religious and in fact positively eschew bringing religion into our lives. I am steadfastly against assigning F any religion, if he’d like to choose a belief system when he’s older that’s fine, but I see it as his choice.

My Dad called on Sunday night to organise an early Christmas dinner for Monday night because we’ll be in Sydney for Christmas. That left me Monday to organise gifts for everyone. Rushing round trying to find presents (ugh!) with G and F and on the verge of giving up I said to G that Christmas increasingly makes me feel sick with anxiety. Why do we celebrate a holiday for a religion we don’t even believe in? Especially when it’s so inextricably linked now with mindless consumerism.

And so many of the traditions associated with Christmas seem so, well, fake and contrived in Australia. I wrote a post about in part about some of my feelings on this at the beginning of the year. The pine tree, the Christmas cards with snowflakes and sleighs, the winter themed carols etc.

But my feelings have deepened even more since then.

I just don’t know how to feel about Christmas as a secular Australian.

Especially because if you strip all of the religious connotations from the holiday you’re just left with Santa Claus (the modern incarnation). And Santa is an even bigger problem for me right now. April Daniels Hussar wrote a good article on the topic. for the Huffington Post here.

I want celebrate the spirit of giving and thanks and valuing family and friends, but I want to do it without all the rest of the crap.

The problem for me is that my Mum was a Christian and she made Christmas magical. And I remember that feeling of magic and the excitement in the lead up. And I want F to feel that magic too.

I’ve always like the idea of the Solstice and Festival of Lights idea instead of the Christian Christmas and there’s no reason we couldn’t celebrate Midsummer. I might do some reading.

If anyone else has some thoughts I’d love to hear them.

Beets

The beetroot has grown incredibly fast. The white and yellow ones especially. We had these roasted for dinner a few nights ago, delicious!

We also have ripe zucchini, squash and alpine (white) strawberries. On their way are the tomatoes, carrots, silverbeet, pumpkins and potatoes.

The peony bud shrivelled up and died, I was so disappointed, but I think the ants may have gotten to it. So I shall let it live for one more year, I am such a softy.

And the chooks. We left them in the care of our neighbours when we went away the weekend before last and the foxes got them. I thought F would be devastated (I was little sad myself) but we told him what happened (I don’t believe in telling children lies about what happens when animals die) and he seems to have understood and accepted that they are gone. We are going to wait until the New Year to get some more once G has built a fully enclosed chook run. That way we can leave them when we go away and not have to rely on someone else to let them in and out of their little house.

See you on the other side of the silly season!

Vanilla Bean and Dark Chocolate

Yep, I finally got one. And it is THE best. My Dad took the old Kenwood and said he’d give me some money for a new one in return. It was all the excuse I needed.

Another Wiksten Tank

Wiksten Tank pattern by Jenny Gordy in Silk/Cotton bought from Tessuti in Melbourne. Much more appropriate for the season.