Have you ever asked the question ‘what on earth am I here for?’ Each week is a blur of taxi driving, whipping up meals, washing clothes around working ‘x’ number of hours each day. One must ask if life was meant to be more than this typical humdrum that fills the hours in the day.
I stood out in the backyard the other night looking skyward. The universe is far greater than just what I can see from my backyard. As the year goes on the view changes, constellations pass overhead as skies put on a magnificent nightly display. Nothing is by chance, not even one of the stars. Each was created, crafted and placed where it is for a purpose. Life expectancy may be limited with some stars burning out and disappearing sooner than others. What about me? Am I just destined to burn out and disappear? When I go will anyone remember me or will I just be yet another person on this earth that arrived, lived and died? I am determined to be more. I may not change the world and I may die with dishpan hands but believe it or not, it won’t be in vain.
My goal is to leave a legacy to my children. To leave them with more than just memories of a mum who picked, packed and washed up. I want to leave them with the most important lesson of all - that there is more to life than meets the eye. Each of us has a journey to fulfil and whether we go on to find fame and fortune, or just live our lives from our own backyard.
Life can be an exciting journey however for me, I have found life to be sweeter when I let God take control. As much as I think I know what I want, he knows better and he does a far better job at the helm than I do. If it was left to me I would be stuck on a roundabout going around and around, trying to work out which exit to take. In the meantime, the stresses of life and general chaos would be overtaking me and I would be struggling to stay sane.
What I have learn't is that we are more than just specks on this earth and we have a choice to either make this life a life worth remembering or just to burn out and leave nothing behind. Following God doesn’t mean that we are exempt from tough times. What faith does give is a peace through those times and a comfort in knowing that someone higher up the food chain has this covered. The voyage can still be rough and then there are times when we seem to sail through but regardless, it is a ride worth hanging on for.
So as I aim to find the purpose for my life, I encourage you to do some soul searching too. Perhaps there is a magnificent adventure that is waiting for you. Perhaps you are already there. Whatever the future holds, it should be one that we look forward to with the aim of leaving something behind for others and not being just a speck that walked on the earth.
With Love,
Lynnelle
www.5smallstones.com.au
lynnelle@5smallstones.com.au
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Relationship Road
Do you remember your first romance? How the tide of emotions swept you up, you floated around on a high completely besotted with the one you thought you loved only to be dumped like a sack of potatoes which left you wondering what on earth had happened? Welcome to Relationship Road.
As parents we find ourselves in the same position as our parents did some twenty plus years ago. Our children are standing at the bottom of sweetheart hill and looking upwards towards the dream of a perfect relationship. One son has started the journey and it has been an uphill one for him to say the least. The climb has come as more of an emotional rollercoaster as he breezes up the hill only to be sideswiped by an out of control mini-bus that is plummeting at rapid speed back to the bottom. As he slowly gets back to his feet, we bandaid up the broken heart only to see him set off once again with stars in his eyes as yet another teenage girl cruises by, stopping to chat and offer him a shortcut to the summit.
From the outside looking in, it is obvious that the relationships are destined to fail. The expectations are unrealistic. The chances of forming a long term relationship at the age of sixteen are unlikely and the truth is that the fickle nature of teenagers will see relationships change faster than the speed of light. Within the blink of an eye the relationship will go from elation to devastation and there sitting on the side of Relationship Road, all battered and bruised, your child will dial home for you to come and collect them.
To help parents survive Relationship Road, I have prepared five tips -
1. If the relationship lasts more than 7 days, it is doing well
2. There will be more drama than in a television series
3. Prepare for more credit requests as texting will exceed 50 texts per day
4. Extracting information will be like having a tooth pulled
5. The shattered pieces will be spread across the house, the yard, the street and across town and you will pick them up
In preparation for the next Relationship Road tragedy, I have purchased a bulk buy on tissues, local emergency response crew is on alert, have registered for roadside assistance and all informants have been paid in advance. Perhaps this time, we can minimise the damage and reduce the road toll.
With Love,
Lynnelle
www.5smallstones.com.au
lynnelle@5smallstones.com.au
As parents we find ourselves in the same position as our parents did some twenty plus years ago. Our children are standing at the bottom of sweetheart hill and looking upwards towards the dream of a perfect relationship. One son has started the journey and it has been an uphill one for him to say the least. The climb has come as more of an emotional rollercoaster as he breezes up the hill only to be sideswiped by an out of control mini-bus that is plummeting at rapid speed back to the bottom. As he slowly gets back to his feet, we bandaid up the broken heart only to see him set off once again with stars in his eyes as yet another teenage girl cruises by, stopping to chat and offer him a shortcut to the summit.
From the outside looking in, it is obvious that the relationships are destined to fail. The expectations are unrealistic. The chances of forming a long term relationship at the age of sixteen are unlikely and the truth is that the fickle nature of teenagers will see relationships change faster than the speed of light. Within the blink of an eye the relationship will go from elation to devastation and there sitting on the side of Relationship Road, all battered and bruised, your child will dial home for you to come and collect them.
To help parents survive Relationship Road, I have prepared five tips -
1. If the relationship lasts more than 7 days, it is doing well
2. There will be more drama than in a television series
3. Prepare for more credit requests as texting will exceed 50 texts per day
4. Extracting information will be like having a tooth pulled
5. The shattered pieces will be spread across the house, the yard, the street and across town and you will pick them up
In preparation for the next Relationship Road tragedy, I have purchased a bulk buy on tissues, local emergency response crew is on alert, have registered for roadside assistance and all informants have been paid in advance. Perhaps this time, we can minimise the damage and reduce the road toll.
With Love,
Lynnelle
www.5smallstones.com.au
lynnelle@5smallstones.com.au
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Testosterone Tantrums
I look back at those early years and realise that the terrible twos were nothing compared to testosterone filled teenage boys. The moods and the 'I know it all attitude', are an essential part of teenage development, or so I am led to believe. Our elder son rises and greets each day with the obligatory grunt. Apparently, when children become teenagers they no longer need to communicate in English. For parents, the 'little book of grunt' would provide translation for the 'good morning' grunt from the 'don't look at me' grunt. On top of this, comes the 'feed me', 'why should I shower' and 'get off my case' grunts. No wonder, raising teenagers sees many parents seeking solitude as they try to live with and interpret teenage attitude. Teenage development involves regression back to two years of age as their vocabulary becomes limited to one syllable words. We can only hope that their vocabulary increases as quickly as the testosterone does in their bodies.
I have also noticed a definite increase in the interaction between the boys. Our household regularly reverberates with the 'that's hurting' cry from the younger son as the elder obviously has adopted one of the many World Wrestling Federation moves. It is not uncommon for the elder to deal with the younger by embracing him in a loving neck hold and dragging him off to the end of the house. I honestly think at times, that their rooms should reflect padded cells to minimise risk of damage and block the screams.
This growing interest in each other is not limited to inside the house either. It is common occurrence to walk outside to find two teenagers wrestling in the backyard. There is nothing like a little brotherly biff to clear the air. I am sure we are not the only family that takes on the role of spectators in a world of testosterone tantrums. We had hoped that the punching bag in the shed would be used for stress release. Unfortunately, the punching bag doesn't have the same appeal that hearing your sibling beg for mercy appears to have. At this rate we could invite the neighbours, charge admission and create a new sporting event.
The up side to this is that they are spending time together, even if it is while one son pins the other to the ground in an effort to expand his tastebuds. Communication between them has gone from grunting to recognisable words such as ‘stop’ and ‘get off’. This leads to hope that by the end of the year they will be back to putting full sentences together. As we move through these interesting, formative teenage years, it is all about togetherness.
I have also noticed a definite increase in the interaction between the boys. Our household regularly reverberates with the 'that's hurting' cry from the younger son as the elder obviously has adopted one of the many World Wrestling Federation moves. It is not uncommon for the elder to deal with the younger by embracing him in a loving neck hold and dragging him off to the end of the house. I honestly think at times, that their rooms should reflect padded cells to minimise risk of damage and block the screams.
This growing interest in each other is not limited to inside the house either. It is common occurrence to walk outside to find two teenagers wrestling in the backyard. There is nothing like a little brotherly biff to clear the air. I am sure we are not the only family that takes on the role of spectators in a world of testosterone tantrums. We had hoped that the punching bag in the shed would be used for stress release. Unfortunately, the punching bag doesn't have the same appeal that hearing your sibling beg for mercy appears to have. At this rate we could invite the neighbours, charge admission and create a new sporting event.
The up side to this is that they are spending time together, even if it is while one son pins the other to the ground in an effort to expand his tastebuds. Communication between them has gone from grunting to recognisable words such as ‘stop’ and ‘get off’. This leads to hope that by the end of the year they will be back to putting full sentences together. As we move through these interesting, formative teenage years, it is all about togetherness.
Friday, October 1, 2010
A Battle of Wills
Parents of teenagers unite! For it is together that we can quell the uprising against education and see a change in the attitude towards study and achieving high grades. Well, it all sounds good in theory but in reality, is it a battle that can be won? Yes, I have a teenager. One who devotes very little time to homework or study. This child outlays more energy moving from the bedroom to the couch than they do towards schoolwork. Over the past week, I have vented my anger, I have said my piece and I have contacted teachers. However, at the end of the day, did I make any ground? Did I claw back even an inch of the enemy’s territory? Was it worth it?
Some would say it’s not worth the fight. Others say it is important to keep them focused and to push forward. However, this week I am showing the signs of battle fatigue. The fire is gone from the belly and I am just not in a position to jump over the trenches one more time and face the dreaded onslaught of words. I feel more like waving that white flag and accepting that while I believe in the importance of school, the child has a different view point.
I know that my child has the potential to excel and if only they could see that. From discussions with other parents, I know I am not alone. This is normal teenage behaviour. So who are we to push our child to study? We are parents. Parents who want our child to succeed and who can see that this child has the ability to achieve, if only they would try. We are parents who want the best for our child – just like our parents before us.
As the battle cry goes out, my parents must take shelter as they know how this battle will end. The likelihood of changing the mindset of a hormonal, full of attitude, I know everything teenager is remote. Life is about living, not school. School is a place to socialise, free of charge with periods of boredom scattered through the day.
So, perhaps I need to rethink the strategy. Maybe I need to take off the camouflage gear, put away the weapons of mass destruction and chill. While I still need to encourage my child to put effort into their education, I need to allow them to make their own mind up. Perhaps, just perhaps, the penny will drop before too long and they will recognise that effort equals reward. Time for a telegram (or in this case text) from the frontline to put a stop to the trench warfare - where’s the phone?
Some would say it’s not worth the fight. Others say it is important to keep them focused and to push forward. However, this week I am showing the signs of battle fatigue. The fire is gone from the belly and I am just not in a position to jump over the trenches one more time and face the dreaded onslaught of words. I feel more like waving that white flag and accepting that while I believe in the importance of school, the child has a different view point.
I know that my child has the potential to excel and if only they could see that. From discussions with other parents, I know I am not alone. This is normal teenage behaviour. So who are we to push our child to study? We are parents. Parents who want our child to succeed and who can see that this child has the ability to achieve, if only they would try. We are parents who want the best for our child – just like our parents before us.
As the battle cry goes out, my parents must take shelter as they know how this battle will end. The likelihood of changing the mindset of a hormonal, full of attitude, I know everything teenager is remote. Life is about living, not school. School is a place to socialise, free of charge with periods of boredom scattered through the day.
So, perhaps I need to rethink the strategy. Maybe I need to take off the camouflage gear, put away the weapons of mass destruction and chill. While I still need to encourage my child to put effort into their education, I need to allow them to make their own mind up. Perhaps, just perhaps, the penny will drop before too long and they will recognise that effort equals reward. Time for a telegram (or in this case text) from the frontline to put a stop to the trench warfare - where’s the phone?
The Journey Back
Have you ever doubted your abilities? Have you looked at someone else and thought, “I wish I could...but I couldn’t?” Self doubt - it haunts some, it stops others, it teases and plays with our minds. It limits our abilities and stops us from grabbing hold of life and enjoying the ride. The past twelve months for me has been a hard journey to make. I have been on a rollercoaster ride of emotions and feelings. I had never felt so low. I had never experienced this before. During this time, I saw myself as worthless and having nothing to offer. I have questioned God, yelled at him, cried like a baby and struggled to find purpose and direction for my life. If God loved me, why have I had to endure this? Life was less than fair.
Emotionally fragile, questions ran through my mind as I tried to justify, understand and come to terms with what I was facing and feeling. Not coping was an understatement. Honestly, I don’t know how my husband and family coped with me. I was on a rollercoaster that had reached the top of Space Mountain and was destined to plummet all the way to the bottom in darkness. I was losing control. My insides were so churned and twisted that there was no up. Everyday my mind taunted me with guilt, worthlessness and the feelings of failure. Failure was an issue I have struggled with for a lifetime. Never good enough and this just cemented those feelings further.
During those darkest times, I sat in the corner of my bedroom and literally cried out to God for peace. I knew He was there, I knew that He cared and I needed Him to show me the way back from this. I needed to know that He was walking beside me and had this covered, as there was no human way that I was going to make it on my own.
What I discovered is that God had never moved. I had. He was the same God that drew me in as a teenager. In the madness and chaos of life as a wife and mother, I had moved my position. His was still the same. As I prayed for forgiveness, peace and direction, he revealed himself. Through his word, I saw that he allowed this journey to bring me back to him. God doesn’t always give us what we want - He gives us what we need.
The journey is far from over and now I am excited about what lies ahead. Doors are opening, direction is once again returning and I no longer feel as though I have nothing to offer this world. Those issues that were mountains are now behind me. I can move forward knowing that God has a plan and I know that whatever I face, good or bad, I am not alone. When you next face your mountain...remember to ask for help and be prepared to accept that God may not have been the one that put you there, but he will climb that mountain with you.
Emotionally fragile, questions ran through my mind as I tried to justify, understand and come to terms with what I was facing and feeling. Not coping was an understatement. Honestly, I don’t know how my husband and family coped with me. I was on a rollercoaster that had reached the top of Space Mountain and was destined to plummet all the way to the bottom in darkness. I was losing control. My insides were so churned and twisted that there was no up. Everyday my mind taunted me with guilt, worthlessness and the feelings of failure. Failure was an issue I have struggled with for a lifetime. Never good enough and this just cemented those feelings further.
During those darkest times, I sat in the corner of my bedroom and literally cried out to God for peace. I knew He was there, I knew that He cared and I needed Him to show me the way back from this. I needed to know that He was walking beside me and had this covered, as there was no human way that I was going to make it on my own.
What I discovered is that God had never moved. I had. He was the same God that drew me in as a teenager. In the madness and chaos of life as a wife and mother, I had moved my position. His was still the same. As I prayed for forgiveness, peace and direction, he revealed himself. Through his word, I saw that he allowed this journey to bring me back to him. God doesn’t always give us what we want - He gives us what we need.
The journey is far from over and now I am excited about what lies ahead. Doors are opening, direction is once again returning and I no longer feel as though I have nothing to offer this world. Those issues that were mountains are now behind me. I can move forward knowing that God has a plan and I know that whatever I face, good or bad, I am not alone. When you next face your mountain...remember to ask for help and be prepared to accept that God may not have been the one that put you there, but he will climb that mountain with you.
Changing Lanes
How many times do we as women push ourselves to the limit? We stretch ourselves so far that we feel like an elastic band ready to break. Playing taxi service by carting children from one end of town to the other, grabbing only the bare essentials at warp speed down the grocery aisles between drop off and pick up times. Not to mention arriving at work, flop into your chair and hook up to the closest coffee machine by direct feed. I've been there and it's not pretty.
So how long can you keep the pace up? I made it to three years. Three years of working two jobs, running around with kids and throwing together meals that were more likely suitable to those without teeth or didn't mind the taste of charcoal. However, it was at a cost. I was stressed. With one word I could take the head off my hubby at thirty paces and my children would wait until the dust settled before entering the room. It wasn't life, I was in survival mode and even then, I was barely coping. The days were becoming longer and my brain felt like mush. I just couldn't mentally process anything more. There wasn't any more to give.
So I made a decision. I resigned from one of my jobs. Yes, it was a hard decision to make but looking back, one that I don't regret at all. Sanity returned over time. It took 18 months to find myself again but now that I have, I refuse to visit that place again. It no longer appears on my travel itinerary, the visa is cancelled and the borders are closed.
Sometimes when you are in so deep, you need a hand to get out. You need someone to tell you to stop before everything becomes all consuming. We roar down life's highway at an incredible pace but when you look back do you remember the journey or are you driving with a blindfold on? Are you so caught up in the daily grind that you seem to be on the never ending roundabout? If you are my advice is to slow down, put your indicator on, change lanes, take the next exit and find a new highway to travel. One that allows you time to enjoy life, not just survive. I look forward to waving to you.
So how long can you keep the pace up? I made it to three years. Three years of working two jobs, running around with kids and throwing together meals that were more likely suitable to those without teeth or didn't mind the taste of charcoal. However, it was at a cost. I was stressed. With one word I could take the head off my hubby at thirty paces and my children would wait until the dust settled before entering the room. It wasn't life, I was in survival mode and even then, I was barely coping. The days were becoming longer and my brain felt like mush. I just couldn't mentally process anything more. There wasn't any more to give.
So I made a decision. I resigned from one of my jobs. Yes, it was a hard decision to make but looking back, one that I don't regret at all. Sanity returned over time. It took 18 months to find myself again but now that I have, I refuse to visit that place again. It no longer appears on my travel itinerary, the visa is cancelled and the borders are closed.
Sometimes when you are in so deep, you need a hand to get out. You need someone to tell you to stop before everything becomes all consuming. We roar down life's highway at an incredible pace but when you look back do you remember the journey or are you driving with a blindfold on? Are you so caught up in the daily grind that you seem to be on the never ending roundabout? If you are my advice is to slow down, put your indicator on, change lanes, take the next exit and find a new highway to travel. One that allows you time to enjoy life, not just survive. I look forward to waving to you.
Time Out
As a working mother and wife, there rarely seems enough hours in the day. Furthermore, the thought of taking time out for oneself can often lead to feelings of guilt. I wish that with a twitch of my nose, all housework would be done, lunches made, work complete and I could remain warm and snug in my bed, at least until 6.30am. The endless housework, regular safari's across town with children, all while cooking tea and washing clothes – when does it stop? When did you last take ten minutes or so for yourself, run a warm bath, lock the door and refuse to come out? When did you and your partner last slip away for a romantic weekend with no kids to build your relationship? When did you last make a point of meeting with friends over a cuppa?
Life gets far too busy, time flies and each year seems to go faster. I swear we must be back to only 15 hours each day because it certainly doesn’t feel like 24. We must remember that if we are to keep the family together, as we mothers do, we have to look after ourselves. This is never as evident as when we succumb to illness. A couple of days sick and you re-enter the world to find the dishes piled, children wearing their jocks inside out to save on washing and the cat sprawled across the floor from starvation.
I encourage you to take time out for yourself - you deserve it! It doesn't have to be a weekend away, maybe just half an hour will do. We must put down the household appliances, take the apron off and replace it with a fluffy robe and slippers. Find your place of peace. It may be a quiet cuppa under a tree in the backyard or a soak in a tub with soft music playing. Whatever it is, find a way to tune out, switch off and find your innerself. You must take the time to stop, relax and rejuvenate to be able to continue on. Have your day of rest (God did), book that weekend away with your partner and sleep in once every now and then. It will help you keep your sanity, you will be much happier in yourself and the kids, hubby, dog and cat can wait until you re-appear. Hark! I hear the call. One that says come soak and let all the stress flow from your body. Yes, that candle lit bath calleth me and because I hate to disappoint, I best go and ensure that the level of service in this fine establishment is up to scratch.
Life gets far too busy, time flies and each year seems to go faster. I swear we must be back to only 15 hours each day because it certainly doesn’t feel like 24. We must remember that if we are to keep the family together, as we mothers do, we have to look after ourselves. This is never as evident as when we succumb to illness. A couple of days sick and you re-enter the world to find the dishes piled, children wearing their jocks inside out to save on washing and the cat sprawled across the floor from starvation.
I encourage you to take time out for yourself - you deserve it! It doesn't have to be a weekend away, maybe just half an hour will do. We must put down the household appliances, take the apron off and replace it with a fluffy robe and slippers. Find your place of peace. It may be a quiet cuppa under a tree in the backyard or a soak in a tub with soft music playing. Whatever it is, find a way to tune out, switch off and find your innerself. You must take the time to stop, relax and rejuvenate to be able to continue on. Have your day of rest (God did), book that weekend away with your partner and sleep in once every now and then. It will help you keep your sanity, you will be much happier in yourself and the kids, hubby, dog and cat can wait until you re-appear. Hark! I hear the call. One that says come soak and let all the stress flow from your body. Yes, that candle lit bath calleth me and because I hate to disappoint, I best go and ensure that the level of service in this fine establishment is up to scratch.
Room of Despair
As I walk down the hallway, I prepare for a scene of carnage. A scene of such absolute horror that even Arnold Schwarzenegger would tremble with fear. A sight so frightening, that even Hitchcock, the master of suspense, would hand over his camera and admit defeat. Yes, I am about to the enter the room of a teenager.
With my faithful cleaning kit beside me, I put on the protective overalls, pull down the face shield and make sure that my breathing apparatus is working. Why the protection you ask? These rooms are dark places. Do I dare to go into the dark beyond the door? With a gentle push, the door starts to open. Then, with a mighty shove, I am able to wedge my way inside to see the room of despair. I stumble across the room to where a window was last seen and open the blinds. It is at this point that anything alive in the room scurries away from the sunlight (obviously these are nocturnal creatures). I can now see the full depth of what lies before me and it is worse than anticipated.
Clothes. Not just any clothes, but ones that due to copious amounts of teenage sweat and dirt are able to stand on their own and now look more like muppets on steroids. Socks. Be careful. These are strategically positioned to cause frustration and make you vulnerable to an attack. Wait! Is that the remains of what was once a neatly made, sheets tucked in, pillow plumped bed that lies before me? The doona is carefully draped off to an angle and covers part the floor. Why I ask myself? Careful lifting of the doona brings to the surface my greatest fear. Leftovers. Yes, here lies a plate of what was at some stage food but has now taken on the look of something the cat dragged in two months ago. Thank goodness for the gas mask.
I realise now that the job is too big. My trusty bottle of spray and wipe is not going to be enough. I need to a high pressure cleaner, 44 gallons of room freshener and a backhoe to even get close to making a dent in what occupies the space at the end of the hallway. As I carefully back away from the horrors that appear before me, I say to myself, 'perhaps next week'. Maybe by then I will have recovered from the nightmares and have a support team on hand that, should I collapse from exhaustion or be attacked by whatever lives in there, will be able to drag me out by my ankles and back to the light.
With my faithful cleaning kit beside me, I put on the protective overalls, pull down the face shield and make sure that my breathing apparatus is working. Why the protection you ask? These rooms are dark places. Do I dare to go into the dark beyond the door? With a gentle push, the door starts to open. Then, with a mighty shove, I am able to wedge my way inside to see the room of despair. I stumble across the room to where a window was last seen and open the blinds. It is at this point that anything alive in the room scurries away from the sunlight (obviously these are nocturnal creatures). I can now see the full depth of what lies before me and it is worse than anticipated.
Clothes. Not just any clothes, but ones that due to copious amounts of teenage sweat and dirt are able to stand on their own and now look more like muppets on steroids. Socks. Be careful. These are strategically positioned to cause frustration and make you vulnerable to an attack. Wait! Is that the remains of what was once a neatly made, sheets tucked in, pillow plumped bed that lies before me? The doona is carefully draped off to an angle and covers part the floor. Why I ask myself? Careful lifting of the doona brings to the surface my greatest fear. Leftovers. Yes, here lies a plate of what was at some stage food but has now taken on the look of something the cat dragged in two months ago. Thank goodness for the gas mask.
I realise now that the job is too big. My trusty bottle of spray and wipe is not going to be enough. I need to a high pressure cleaner, 44 gallons of room freshener and a backhoe to even get close to making a dent in what occupies the space at the end of the hallway. As I carefully back away from the horrors that appear before me, I say to myself, 'perhaps next week'. Maybe by then I will have recovered from the nightmares and have a support team on hand that, should I collapse from exhaustion or be attacked by whatever lives in there, will be able to drag me out by my ankles and back to the light.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Hormonal House of Horrors
As a mother and wife, I feel a constant pull to be everything to everyone and be everywhere. This combined with the pressure of working can become overwhelming and unfortunately my hubby and children wear the short end of the stress stick. Yes, they puts up with my moods, and there are many, which can change at the drop of a hat and sees our somewhat peaceful household descend into a hormonal house of horrors.
Life becomes a bit of a blur and I am sure that there are many other women out there who feel exactly the same. Between work, kids, after school activities and home, there seems to be very little time in the week that I could honestly say is ‘my time’. Just getting the time to put these thoughts down on paper without interruption is a challenge. It is difficult to retain a pattern of thought as the cry from a hungry family of ‘what’s for tea?” echoes through the house? You would think that two teenagers could manage to work out what a frypan looks like. Not to mention a whole pantry of food that is just waiting to be turned into a creative feast for the starving.
In recent years I have battled the dreaded onset of stress. Each one of us copes, or at least tries to cope, with stress in different ways. The people closest too you see it before you do and are often the first to feel it too. My husband and children have learnt when to give Mummy dearest some much needed space. Some months are better than others and the ‘other’ months are the ones where as I walk in the door, the family dons flack jackets and takes cover. So why don’t we females just stop being stressed and go back to being loving, coping wives and mothers?
Well, we do try but sometimes it all gets too much. For me, when I’m not lining my family up for target practice, I sit in my bedroom and let the tears pour down my face like a raging rapid. This way I get to let it out, my family doesn’t suffer and our household can get back to normal. The next challenge is menopause – hot flushes and more mood swings. For the safety of my family, perhaps it is best if we build a padded cell in the back yard.
Life becomes a bit of a blur and I am sure that there are many other women out there who feel exactly the same. Between work, kids, after school activities and home, there seems to be very little time in the week that I could honestly say is ‘my time’. Just getting the time to put these thoughts down on paper without interruption is a challenge. It is difficult to retain a pattern of thought as the cry from a hungry family of ‘what’s for tea?” echoes through the house? You would think that two teenagers could manage to work out what a frypan looks like. Not to mention a whole pantry of food that is just waiting to be turned into a creative feast for the starving.
In recent years I have battled the dreaded onset of stress. Each one of us copes, or at least tries to cope, with stress in different ways. The people closest too you see it before you do and are often the first to feel it too. My husband and children have learnt when to give Mummy dearest some much needed space. Some months are better than others and the ‘other’ months are the ones where as I walk in the door, the family dons flack jackets and takes cover. So why don’t we females just stop being stressed and go back to being loving, coping wives and mothers?
Well, we do try but sometimes it all gets too much. For me, when I’m not lining my family up for target practice, I sit in my bedroom and let the tears pour down my face like a raging rapid. This way I get to let it out, my family doesn’t suffer and our household can get back to normal. The next challenge is menopause – hot flushes and more mood swings. For the safety of my family, perhaps it is best if we build a padded cell in the back yard.
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