Sunday 28 July 2013

Saying Goodbye

When I look at The Youngest, with a mass of golden curls, confidently navigating her way around the iPad or iPhone, I know that two years is a relatively short amount of time. Two years ago we had just moved into our house. The Youngest was 4 weeks old. And now, two years later she walks, runs, holds conversations and pretty much tries to run our family dictatorship style...

So I know that the next two years are going to fly by, and before I know it, the removal people will be unpacking the boxes and furniture that they just packed up. And I will be saying hello to all the people I have been saying goodbye to. 

Some goodbyes have been harder than others. The goodbyes that signal an end to a phase of our lives that we won't return to. Today, the girls ended a 2 and a half year association with their childcare  centre. There were tears, from me and from their teachers. These wonderful educators have nurtured, taught and loved my girls. They have delighted in their milestones. They have been a part if the 'village' that has helped to raise my children. We have been so lucky in the care and love shown to our children. I will be for ever thankful, that although I didn't have the luxury of being a Stay At Home Mum, my girls had the most wonderful opportunities given to them. Goodstart Isaacs - we will miss you. 

Other goodbyes have not been so hard - because they are not really goodbyes - more farewells and Bon Voyages. The goodbyes said to friends who will still be there, even though I will so far away. It has been hard to see everyone, and there are many treasured friends we did not have a chance to say goodbye too. Such was the frantic nature of our last three weeks.

But the hardest goodbyes have been to our families: those amazing people who are there for us through everything, with whom we share everything, and who are absolutely everything to us. Missing two years of our nieces and nephews growing up, our daughters missing two years of extended family life, is a hard thing to come to terms with.

Thankfully, we are better off than when I moved to the UK 14 years ago. Now we have Skype and face time and vyber. So see you in two years has become see you on the computer. Still.  I'm going to miss them all so much.

Most of all, I am going to miss my dog. Barney Boy, my furry child, who has no way of knowing where I am and when I  coming back. That's the bit that's breaking my heart. I love you fella.  Just for you little one, I hope the two years fly. 

Thursday 18 July 2013

A bit of Inner Goddess

Over the past three weeks, I have had a lot of comments 'you are looking really well!'
There are a few reasons for why this is true.

Firstly, I really wasn't looking after myself. I did look like a really tired, worn out, aged version of my pre-child self. I got into the rut of too-busy Mumma and let myself go. I thought I looked ok, until I found a passport photo if myself from 2004. I looked...young. And like I had had a thousand hours of sleep. I'll admit it - I thought I looked good.

So, I began a mini makeover. Firstly I went out and bought make-up. Make-up.

And then, I actually made an effort to find some time to apply it. It is amazing, how that simple act, made me feel good. I know that many people would think that's wrong - I should be worshipping the inner goddess within or something. Being au naturale. But I am saying it loud and proud - makeup makes my inner self feel good.

I spent three months growing out my eyebrows. You can imagine the look I got from Hubby when I said that - along with the confused shake of the head, the mumbled comments of confused questioning 'chicks....' And then I got those hairy caterpillars waxed - and now they match. My inner self began feeling a little bit more goddessee.

And now, now I am at the hair salon. Getting my hair coloured and cut. For me, a momentous, and over the past four years, rare occurrence.

And it feels great.

For a few moments at least, I find myself not consumed with my seemingly endless lists and paperwork. I am not thinking of my frustrations with e-tax and a very unexpected tax debt. I am not thinking about the fact that we haven't sold our car. I am not thinking about the fact that my Masters started this week and I have yet to do anything other than logon and see how many conscientious people are already forum-discussing/blog-posting.

No, I am admiring the hair colour of the hair dresser doing my hair. As I have a colour marinating on my head right now, it's a little too late to say 'I want your hair' - especially as the bold foils should be done first. Damn. But I do comment on her hair, and let her discuss at length how she can achieve that look for me next time. We bonded over a mutual love of chocolatey warmth with cherry highlights.

But alas, then there was a very awkward parting of ways. I had to severe that new bond, the one where my hairdresser thought she had nabbed that elusive prize - the returning new and very satisfied customer.  I had to confess  - 'actually, I'm not coming back'.

But not because of the hair cut. The haircut is feeling quite goddessee indeed.

Now I feel like someone who can legitimately saunter (yes I plan to saunter) up to Business Class and sip my champagne while the lower classes board their cramped flight accommodations.

10 days and counting...

Monday 8 July 2013

19 sleeps

In 20 sleeps I am planning on drinking a glass or three of wine at 8am. I don't usually plan my alcohol consumption so far ahead. Usually, I just plan for a glass of vino at the end of the day. But this time I am being specific. 8am. Airport Lounge. Glass of Red.

Because in 19 sleeps we will have boarded our domestic flight to Sydney and in 20 sleeps we will be boarding our flight to the next two years of our life. Exciting as that thought is, I have to get though the next 19 days first.

Life with a 2 and 4 year old is chaotic at the best of times. Right now, I wish they were in childcare 24/7 as I cannot get ANYTHING done while they are around. Ok, so they are only 2 and 4, and the concept of moving our lives overseas is well and truly beyond them. They are oblivious to my preoccupation of sorting the contents of the house into:
* luggage (stuff we cannot do without for at least 6 weeks),
* overseas up lift (stuff we can live without for up to six weeks, but after that become must have nows) * storage (stuff we don't need for the next years/stuff that won't work in north america/stuff we probably will never need again but I can't throw out
* rubbish (stuff I should have gotten rid of ten years ago but have lugged around because I couldn't be bothered)...

Instead of understanding and pandering to my obvious stressed out preoccupation, The Eldest suffered a frustrating day of asking me to 'play shops'. Something I had no desire or inclination to do, as it involves The Eldest having a sheet up over her bunk bed and me endlessly knocking on the door asking for random items that I have put away and mentally noted which of the four categories they belonged to. I did willingly participate in 45 mins worth of hide and seek. This involved me 'hiding' in easily locatable spots and not necessarily making any attempt to seek her out, meaning I could sneak in five mins here and there to peruse my incredibly long list in the vain hope that something achievable might leap out at me.

I did think that calling to organise dates for disconnection of utilities was achievable, except that I ended up locking myself away in our wardrobe in order to hear the man at ACTEW. I'm surprised he didn't offer to call for emergency assistance for me, as I can quite sure it sounded like I was being attacked by wolves carrying sledgehammers.

To prove my preoccupation was a danger to all involved, The Youngest spent the day head butting all manner of household objects and now sports a fine collection of bruises and one egg on her forehead. She did this whilst insisting on watching the same episode of Hi-5 over and over. I thought this would be a welcome change to Dora, and am prepared to say at this point that it was definitely a mistake.

I did attempt to take them out for a walk. I unpacked the pram, reassembled it, argued for 45 mins about the importance of putting on shoes, socks and a jumper in 12 degree weather, gave up, disassembled the pram, packed it up and made myself my 25th cup of tea for the day.

So tomorrow, much will be achieved because that pair of nutbags that I willingly brought into the world, are going to childcare, where they can spend all day playing shops and dancing and having adults watch them to ensure they don't fall over and hurt the furniture. They will be given nutritious food instead of overcooked fish fingers, teddy biscuits and chips. They will have fun, play and be with friends. And come home to, hopefully, a slightly less stressed out mother, who accomplished (let's be positive) A LOT of things of her list.