Archive for relationships

The Future

November 5, 2009 · Filed under homeschooling, relationships

As hazily anticipated, this trip is prompting some contemplation about my future life.  Previous long term holidays have resulted in decisions to complete my degree, and to return home to marry P, who by his absence revealed himself to be Mr Right. 

At present my thoughts hinge around a possible return to the workforce.  This was initially prompted by my financial fears as this trip is costing *way* more than I ever thought it would, and the only solution I could see was to return to Perth and get cracking earning some money.  I raised this with P in the context of perhaps I should enrol to finish my MBA and look for some type of professional employment.  To my surprise P was quite positive about this, as his own ponderings had led him to think that *he* might like a change, and some house husbandry is very appealing.

Since then, I’ve returned to thinking that maybe I should take a wild chance and instead study to be a yoga teacher.   This woud be a far more scary option, as I don’t know if I could do it, plus it doesn’t come with the same financial security as the first option.  Importantly, this also  narrows P’s choices as he would then be required to have a steady income which was supplemented by me, rather than the other way around.  And he has already diligently supported the family for six years.

In some ways it’s like a choice between two completely different lifestyles.   To return to professional employment eases my financial fears, and also probably my ’educational fears’, in that it is much more likely that my kids will go to school (so I outsource the responsibility) as that would be the 9 – 5 type lifestyle that the family would have – as I don’t know how confident P would be to continue to be the parent responsible for home ed, as the kids got older.

The second choice means I am out of my comfort zone, doing something I haven’t done before and  committing to a way of life that doesn’t offer me the same financial security or educational “options”.  In particular, if I had a job that required me to work early mornings and/or evenings, I would be really unlikely to send my kids to school -  as then I’d never see them!

Of course the other option is P’s preferred choice which is to go bush somewhere, and thereby release ourselves from the need to pay for shelter in the (expensive)  Perth metro area.  Sigh – we already tried to downsize once and that turned out to be a disaster.

P has no family in Perth (not that he seems to consider them a factor anyway) and feels confident that he can make friends in a new place.  I wish I had that confidence.  I know I can meet new people - but will they be soul mates??  I feel like a weirdo already… if I didn’t have some people around to make me realise that I’m not completely alone I would find life a lot harder….  and after almost 40 years, I’ve realised that soul mates are not easily found.  You have to really cherish the ones you’ve got.

I’ve also been playing a mindgame with myself, whereby I “give” P the next five years and he sets the agenda and makes all the decisions for the family (testing my attachment to control, and opening myself to participating in an adventure not of my own making – as per previous post).  You have no idea the anxiety this exercise produces in me!  When I mentioned this to P, he thought this was funny – I’d either be pissed off that “nothing was happening” or pissed off that something *was* happening  – that I didn’t want.    Arrgghh – why do I have a life partner that can shoot so accurately?

In the meantime we muddle along.  That reference to “40 years” does give me a sense of urgency though.  T was worried the other day that he didn’t know what he was going to be when he grows up.  I advised that I didn’t either – but at least he has time on his side.

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The Circus

August 16, 2009 · Filed under relationships

We took the boys to the circus yesterday.  It was fantastic.  Am I too old to run away with the circus?  

Ways to *join the circus* (or *____* : fill in the blank with other dream adventure)

1)  Be born into circus family

2)  Marry member of circus family

3) Decide that’s what you want to do, and work like crazy to make it happen.

I sometimes think how nice it would be to have *someone else* (family/partner) with an exciting life plan take me along for the ride.  But my family didn’t build a boat and sail it around the world, or build a business empire.  And P is not a circus acrobat or a doctor in the third world.  Not sure if tagging along on someone else’s adventure would start to chafe after a while.  Maybe it’s not really satisfying unless you’re part of the dreaming and planning?

PS.  P doesn’t appreciate these musings, as he fears being misrepresented as “boring”.  So I should add that of the myriad emotions that he is able to trigger in me, so far I cannot complain of being bored.

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Dispatches from a Gascoyne Cattle Station

July 1, 2009 · Filed under The Big Lap, feminism, gardening, relationships

Lyndon Homestead 20,06,09 001I was a bit uncertain about the wwoofing thing.  I mean, I liked the concept, but being an introvert I was out of my comfort zone.  When we first arrived I felt like a fish out of water (I wanted to run), and I was *astonished* to find that there were already 3 wwoofers here!  I thought they’d never get anyone!   This is probably the best thing we’ve done so far.  Mainly due to the fantastic people here, who were incredibly welcoming – and interesting.  It’s sort of a spiritual relief to hang out with people whose life is very different to your own.   The Aboriginal overseer and his French girlfriend.  The unhappily retired diesel fitter who found solace travelling around outback stations working on vehicles for board and fuel.   The guy who traps feral dogs for a living. (FYI, there are 20 dogger zones in WA and there are vacancies.   Wage:  $325 a day, aiming to get one dog a day.  Contact the WA Department of Agriculture).  It was kind of fun to hang around with a group of young people – I can report from the frontline that not much has changed on the backpacker scene.  Still drinking tequila and hooking up with each other.
 
P was in his element painting dongas, digging trenches and generally handymanning around.  We stayed longer than planned, and P would have been keen to stay even longer (indefinitely….  I started to wonder whether P might like a late-blooming career as a jackaroo), but I felt a bit of a spare part as I wasn’t able to do as much work  as I would like - somedays nothing apart from some minor babysitting - to feel comfortable that I was earning my keep, so to speak.  Luckily the station owners had two young kids themselves, so were very understanding of our kids’ needs, and I think just happy to have some kids visit.  The lady of the house was a kindred spirit, into kids, gardening, social issues.  How lucky can you get?  And even more so, they took T for a ride in their plane!  And on motorbikes and trucks!  T, being reserved like me, was a bit overwhelmed by joining a new community, but it was amazing watching the kids slip into the new routine.  J in particular wanted to get to the “big kitchen” for breakfast and T was always concerned that we would be late for dinner. 
 
The lifestyle here is very appealing.  It’s a little community of people working, eating and socialising together.  The mail arrives once a week – and the shopping is delivered by the postie.  They eat a *lot* of beef and have a great vege & herb garden with chooks.  They have a cook – bliss!  The station owner flits about in his plane – into town for a meeting – around the station checking things out – divebombing the homestead when no-one answers the two-way.  It was a wonderful introduction to wwoofing – but also off-putting in the sense that I realised (why didn’t I realise before?) that I can’t really do 4 – 6 hours of work around the place (I can’t achieve this around my *own* place!)  The only way I could do this would be for P to stop work after lunch and look after the kids, which would free me up….  but what’s the point when it’s obvious to that he is *so* much more useful around the place than me?  He may as well keep going…. which leaves me with the responsibility for the kids and unable to participate in the spirit of wwoof.  
 
While here I have been reading Germaine Greer’s “Shakespeare’s Wife”, which I suspected might be a bit dry, but is actually great, and is inspiring me to get back into Shakespeare, which I haven’t explored since high school.  She quotes a scholar of Elizabethan times, saying that the role of the man was very clear – let’s call that “A”, and the role of the woman was everything else…  let’s call that “non-A”.  And when the man’s availability or capability changed, than the woman’s role would expand to take up those duties as well.  For example, if the husband became ill, then the wife would take over the running of the business and develop/utilise those skills, but otherwise wouldn’t be involved.    I was thinking that maybe not much has changed.  Does the equation work in the opposite direction?  Maybe.
 
Anyway, our small stay here has definitely got me more seriously contemplating moving to a country-type property of our own.  It’s alleviated *some* of my fear of social isolation.  I would need to be closer to a town I think….. a three hour drive is just too far.
Lyndon Homestead 20,06,09 006
 
 

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Dispatches from ‘Rest Area’

June 8, 2009 · Filed under The Big Lap, feminism, relationships

4 June 2009
NW Coastal Hwy, about 60km south of Billabong roadhouse.  This camp was selected when J advised that he wanted  ”TO GET OUT OF THIS CHAIR”, accompanied by full body flails.  Amenities included an old mattress that the kids adapted as a trampoline.  Good, I thought, until P found a penis pump complete with packaging.  (Discarded in frustration?) We’d already set up camp, so it was too late to leave this seedy locale.
 
Late in the night a truck pulled in and seemed to leave it’s motor running for an inordinate amount of time.  I suddenly remembered the Peter Falconio story and managed to completely freak myself out.  Luckily I never saw Wolf Creek.  I think P must have beeen slightly freaked too, as the next day he ruminated as to whether he should keep a wheel brace in the trailer.  Poor darling.  Who’d be a man? I’m so glad that “family security” is not on my list of responsibilities. 
 
Before kids I think we were achieving a measure of egalitarism in our relationship.  But of course kids changed that completely, and we now operate strictly on gender lines.  Breastfeeding and home duties sort of go together.  So P became breadwinner and I became homemaker.  This had not been our original plan - we had thought that we would both work part time, and share the care of the kids.  This could still be an option down the track, but while the kids were young my separation anxiety was acute, and luckily for me P was very supportive of this.  Having said that, I think my career (such as it was) is pretty much dead now, and I don’t think I could stomach the “mummy track”.  Under current corporate structures you can have a part time job, but not a part time career.  So work options I would be prepared to consider are:
 
*barista in a cafe with a view
*sales assistant in an organic shop
*yoga teacher (dream job for the far future when I can actually get stuck into my yoga – not just sneak in a few salute to the suns in between parenting)
 
Anyway, the most recent incarnation of our cliched lives manifests on this holiday when P has to back the trailer in to a space, or back the car so that the trailer can be re-hitched.  My job is to stand behind and provide guidance to P’s manly reversing.  Dear reader, you may find this hard to believe, but I am “no good at it”!  Apparantly, I stand in the wrong spot, and also my hand signals are impossible to read!  And when P jumps out to snarl at my poor attempts, I descend into hysterical laughter and have to clench my legs together.  I’ve suggested a role reversal, such that *I* would be the reverser, but P took that as just more frivolity.

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Saying Goodbye

May 26, 2009 · Filed under The Big Lap, parenting, relationships, society

Well, not quite.  Still here at home actually.  Our departure has been delayed by 24 hours, in the realisation that we aren’t actually ready to leave.  I didn’t realise how much work it would be at the last minute, packing everything into the car and trailer, while concurrently ensuring that pretty much *all* our belongings are packed into the backyard shed, and the house is sparkling clean for the incoming tenant. 

I’m kind of losing it actually.  J is really temperamental with all the changes that are happening, and needs a fair amount of input.   I spend a *lot* of time breastfeeding when I really want to be doing something else.  The kids want everything that has already been packed into the trailer and the last semblance of a healthy lifestyle has gone to shit.  I even drank a can of coke today.

I also have a bad fear that we’ll be gone about 10 days and the kids will be well and truly ready to come home.  Suddenly the realisation of “12 months” will sink in, and the recriminations will begin.

I have been saying goodbyes.  As a friend pointed out, I am actually on the “good” end of the goodbye.  It’s kind of easier for the person embarking on the ”new” life  than for those staying home, as their normal life continues, with the absence of people who were previously a part of it. 

Of course I plan to be in contact with people while we’re away.  But there are two people who really only understand face-to-face contact.   Firstly, my precious little nephew who has just turned one, and started at family daycare.  (How dare they appropriate the sacred word “family” and apply it to their business?)  If I wasn’t going away he could have come and played with his *real* family.  Secondly, my dad, who (despite my telling him) has no idea what’s happening, and I can only hope will still recognise me after such a long absence.  I wanted to cry after visiting him on Sunday, but it felt too self indulgent….  it might have made me feel better. 

If I lived in a different type of society, the idea of going away for 12 months would be unthinkable.  I would remain here – fulfilling my family and community role and duties – and this would be in the best interests of the dependent members of my extended family.   It’s a conundrum.  I can only be grateful for the freedom and affluence that makes other choices possible.  But now that I *have* a choice, I have to recognise the essentially selfish nature of my choice to choof off when I could be at home doing something that would make a difference to others. 

Sigh.  Has this got really maudlin?  I’m knackered.

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A little death

May 5, 2009 · Filed under The Big Lap, being present, relationships

I am experiencing a mini version of being handed a death sentence.  Now that I am going away for 12 months, I am *really* appreciating my life here at home.  Go figure.  Not that I don’t always feel lucky in this life, but the things I often take for granted – friends, extended family, neighbours, social gatherings, snug home, weekly routines - suddenly loom large as such amazing gifts of fortune that only a fool would leave.  What have I got to be dissatisfied about?  Why *am* I actually going?

If I *was* given a death sentence, the last thing on my “to do” list would be travel.  I’d be parking myself right here and soaking up every last morsel of this normal life. 

Crazy stuff.  Or crazy me.

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Anzac Day

May 3, 2009 · Filed under parenting, relationships

A belated record of our attempt to participate in Anzac Day.

I discussed the history and symbols of Anzac Day with T, and asked whether he would like to attend the dawn service.  Response:  “Will it be boring?”  In all honesty I couldn’t respond that it wouldn’t be.  Neither T nor J wanted to come, and there was a general consensus that they would prefer that I didn’t go either.  However, I decided that I would like to, so I set my internal clock to get up for the local service at 5.45am.  The problem with the internal clock is that it doesn’t have snooze……  so though I woke up at my alloted time, I then decided to snuggle for ‘another 5 minutes’, a fatal mistake.  So I woke again, too late for that service, but in time to attend another at 7.00am.  While getting into the car, P emerged naked to tell me that J was awake and wanted boobie.  Oh well, there’s always next year.

While safely back in bed breastfeeding, I sent a prayer to my Uncle H, who died at El Alamein in WWII.  Of course I never knew him, but I think he would be OK that I was tending to my child rather than at the service.  As the only member of the family to visit his grave, I feel somewhat connected to him. 

My first trip to Egypt I didn’t make it there.  I was on a limited time frame travelling with someone else, and El Alamein is far from any antiquities or backpacker havens selling banana pancakes and hairbraids, playing Pink Floyd and Bob Marley.  I thought I had missed out, but by chance I returned to Egypt three years later (who would have thought?)  This time P booked cheap flights on our behalf, and returned with the startling news that we were flying Air Tarom (Romania’s national airline) and would be in Egypt for six weeks.  Gasp.  I knew this was a grave mistake the moment I heard it.  On the upside, I knew that we would have *plenty* of time to get to El Alamein.

After negotiating the mass of white mini vans and bemused stares from locals in Alexandria, we made it to the El Alamien war cemetaries.  A sea of white crosses.  Left alone, we were at the mercy of the mini van driver to remember to come and get us.   Unlike the scene depicted by Lonely Planet, there was no guide and no book to help you locate a grave.  The only option was to walk up and down the aisles of white crosses in the Australian cemetary.  I started by walking and looking at one row of crosses, then realised I could look at two rows as I walked, and as time marched on, I looked at three rows.  Up and down, back and forth.   So many people dead.  P eventually retreated from the searing heat, but our other travelling companion bravely searched another section for me.

I finally stumbled on my Uncle’s grave – pure chance.  Unexpectedly, I was overcome with emotion.  He was only nineteen (think Redgum).  It seemed so incredibly frightening and lonely to go there and die.   Finally, a niece turns up, about 50 years later.

Now I also grieve for my Bestamor (Norwegian for Grandma).  In the parenting game of russian roulette, your whole emotional life is staked on the hope that *your* child doesn’t cop the bullet.  Or car crash.  Or sexual assault.  Or drug overdose.  Or, or, or.   The shattering reality when they do.

T’s second name comes from Uncle H.  A small remembrance.

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Having a Party

April 16, 2009 · Filed under being present, cooking, parenting, relationships, spirituality, voluntary simplicity

OR: How to fast-track your divorce

What are the dynamics of preparing for a home-based entertainment that trigger intense feelings of antipathy to one’s spouse?  After about 17 years of this partnership, I thought I had this licked.  But no.  How depressing.  So for those that suffer from the same phenomenon, I offer the following tips:

For men:

1)  Work tirelessly to manifest the vision of the lady of the house.  TIP:  Ask a lot of clarifying questions so that all details of the vision are understood by you.  Do *not* improvise.

2)  Take the kids out.

For women:

1)  Start preparing at least two weeks in advance with long meditation sessions.  A lifetime would be best.

2)  Find your sense of humour.  Hold onto it.

These insights are belatedly triggered by hosting a birthday party for T’s sixth birthday, consisting of ourselves and three other families.  As P noted afterwards, I could not have been more stressed if I had been hosting the G20 summit.   The source of my stress was J, who woke up early, was then tired but unable to fall asleep, and wanted to spend the day having boobie.  This was not conducive to cleaning, food preparation, birthday cake baking, or pinata completion.  My carefully compiled “to-do” list sat balefully on the kitchen bench.  And was later inadvertently thrown into the bin…. leading to an apocalyptic explosion from me, before it was re-discovered.

Expectations breed frustrations.  I’m so far from being the zen mama I aspire to be.  Worse, I am revealed as someone with a value system that prioritises “house proud”.   I really want to move on from this.

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A day with the family

April 8, 2009 · Filed under being present, relationships

Every now and then, I take my dad to visit his sister and brother-in-law.  My Aunty S and Uncle R.  Now in their eighties, I think they are my favourite relations.   Despite encroaching frailty and the general perils of old age, they continue to engage with the world, and are very appreciative of my sporadic efforts to keep in touch. 

The event itself requires a mammoth effort from me.  Taking my 2 & 6 year old out with my demented father to have lunch with two frail relatives is like my most intense test of mindfulness ever.   As always, my dad greets me like a saviour when I arrive to take him out, and then spends the entire event commenting on what a long day it has been and aren’t we ready to go home now?  This is before we have even got to the restaurant located in the grounds of the retirement estate where S & R live.  Dad is like a cat on hot coals every time the kids blink.  His two other contributions to the conversation are “He has something in his mouth!”  Directed at J, who does have something in his mouth – his tongue.  And “Where are we?”  It’s pretty sweet as S & R diligently try to explain the details of where we are every time he asks – like he’s actually going to get it.   They don’t see him very often, so haven’t got into the swing of short clear anxiety-reducing answers.  Dad fiddles with his denture the whole time – needing help to keep putting it back in.  S’s face accurately reflects my own feelings.  Like – just leave it IN!!!!

I know this restaurant doesn’t serve anything my kids will eat – with the exception of chips – so I’ve brought along packed lunches - which T refuses to eat, despite claims of being hungry.  Evidence of my love for S & R is that I allow them to present the kids with Easter chocolate.  (The irony being I had scheduled this lunch to avoid the Easter egg hunt with my homeschool group)  So J, who is quite susceptible to a sugar load, starts to get an attack of the crazies, racing around and pulling the restaurant curtains.   This gives me a chance to practice my parenting gear shifts, as my other child, T, continues to complain in a loud voice about how bored he is…. despite the array of puzzles and books I have brought along.  In between times I try to keep the conversational ball rolling, assisted by my props – old photos I have brought along for the occasion (one of the advantages of having done all this sorting.)  I only drop stuff out of my overflowing basket twice.

By the time I get the kids back in the car after taking dad back in where he lives  – the last of eight efforts getting in & out of the car - I am suitably exhausted and shovelling the last of the kids’ chocolate into my face.  Phew.  Did *anyone* have fun?  It *seems* like the right thing to do, regardless.

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Preparations

March 27, 2009 · Filed under The Big Lap, homeschooling, relationships, voluntary simplicity

Incredibly, I am *still* sorting stuff out.   P has confirmed his last day of work (12 May) and this has given us a real deadline to work towards.  We have come to the realisation that our original plan to put our stuff into the granny flat and rent the rest of the house may be a bit limiting, so we’re now thinking that we will *store* our stuff while we’re away.  Paying for storage is the ultimate test of how much you actually like something….. there is not much I am prepared to pay to store.  So the sort goes on.  Ruthless sorting through “memorabilia”.  We’ve done a huge photo cull (from the days before digital) we’ve thrown out our wedding cards, and cards that were given to us when the boys where born.   Hard to make that decision, but surprisingly easy to live with…. I mean really, do the boys want these?  No.   My next task is all the stuff I kept from before I met P.  AARRGGHHH!  I should have done this years ago! (like 20!)

Another book cull is on the cards……  I do this reasonably regularly, and I am always astonished that 12 months later there is a whole pile that I no longer want….. but must have decided to keep 12 months ago.  Weird.  I’ve done the clothes – again if I’m not taking it with me, it will have to be an amazing piece of clothing to be worth “storing”.  So far I have put to one side a motorbike jacket, two long coats and an evening dress.   Items that I never wear, but pertain to some dream life where I *might* need to wear them. 

My preparations also include trying to dump some psychological baggage.  Our financial situation shifted underneath us, and we are now going on a wing and a prayer, with unresolved business left behind.  Let go!  Let go!   In discussion with a friend I disclosed my secret hope that T would start reading while we were away.  While sympathetic to my angst, she felt I was probably aiming a bit low.   She suggested an alternative purpose for the trip:  to build an amazing strong family bond that can never be broken.

Thank you, thank you friends for keeping me focused on the big picture.  She’s right of course.  Why do we live this “alternative” life of homeschooling?  Of course it’s easy to poke holes in the education system.  But our aspirations are *much* larger than just providing a better educational option.    We want to be together.   How’s that for alternative?

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