Sometimes I find it hard to find the right balance when blogging about the mundane minutiae of life.
My friend Beth calls posts like this “full and thorough reporting” and she does a cracker job of using words to illustrate her life’s goings on. I’m not finding an easy way to tell the same old story.
I’ve sat staring at a blank page for a while now thinking about how the fact that I narrowly avoided pneumonia last week is only really important to me. It’s not amusing or inspiring, it’s just life.
That the fact the Big Sister missed her very first ever school camp this week because she caught influenza is only devastating to those of us who love Lil and know that’s she's been looking forward to it for two whole years.
It’s hard to find a way to amuse or entertain with yesterday’s discovery that whomever built the farm house decided that waterproofing the bathrooms was an unnecessary expense. This is just another bit of useless information to anyone unaffected by our lack of bathroom/toilet/laundry until the damage is fixed.
My Nanna turned 94 on Saturday. She’s only recently relocated to the Sunshine Coast from Sydney, so it was wonderful to have the opportunity to celebrate with her.
The occasion meant an overnight visit from Baby David which was double cause for celebration.
Somewhere in last week’s haze of illness the colour plotters arrived for the cookbook and I approved them. Being taken for a ride by a US publisher wasn’t part of the grand plan, but the end result is a book that I’m exceedingly proud of (that is ultimately far superior offering to the one they marketed last year).
Truth be told, I know why I’m in this funk; why I can’t find the lighter side of the discovery of roof sheeting where waterproofing should be. David’s anniversary is on Saturday.
Six years since he went to work and didn’t come home because some dodgy company lied about the cargo the plane was loaded with. But today I’m too tired to be angry that David and Tomas died for the sake of smuggled bags of rice. I’m too tired to see the secret message in a well-timed rainbow or the cheeky magpie who comes strutting through the dining room like he owns the show. I’m tired of missing him. Sick and tired of it all.
It's the same old story every September. The good news is, I know that this won't last. Next week I'll be back cracking jokes about the best ways to style a camp toilet in your living room and sharing Mum's delicious satay chicken recipe. Until then I've learned it's important that I give myself the space to be sad.
how are things at your place? tell me your same old September story.....
Shari Brewer says
Love to you my friend (and the offer of a dry dunny should you need to use one) one step each day with lots of kindness for yourself <3
Jan Bishop says
Many hugs to you. Pneumomia is a good thing to have missed, even missing by a shade. A diseaseI would not wish on my worst enemy. I have had it. Your immune system needs all the help it can get. Did you know there is a vaccine against it? Free for seniors and boosted five years after first dose. Having had pneumonia, I grabbed it when doc gave me fluvax one year.
So sorry for missed excursion. This same week has seen my grandson just scrape into the traditional NSW jaunt to Canberra for sixth class. by a whisker. I guess he will come back washed out from flu for five days before the excursion. That must have been a real bummer for her.
Last March, i had several days of things going wrong, of feeling down and downright miserable. I realised that it was the anniversary of dad's death. Dredged up out of my subconscious without my thinking about it till the very day. The mind does strange things. The pain is always there, hiding.
A young David is not a replacement but a memorial. The name goes on down through the family and family stories become part of your history.
As to bathroom etc, that can be fixed but why did it happen then? Best wishes thqat spring brings hope and healing
Jan
Lisa Herbert says
I'm glad to hear you've learned it's okay to be sad. My pet hate is being told to "stay strong" too. Or "don't cry, it'll be okay". Ugh.
Being happy is a treat. You can't possibly be happy all the time and, if you think you are, you're kidding yourself. Sure, you can be content, you can not be sad, but it doesn't necessarily mean you're happy. And it's okay to cry and feel like shit and not go to the party because you don't want to talk to anyone or you can't be arsed faking a smile. Life sucks much of the time. It can be hard. And that's where being 'happy' comes in. At those times of joy and wonder, in comes a blissful wave of happiness which makes being happy such a delightful treat. And we ride that wave until we get knocked off it by the next shitty life phase. But then another wave hits us. And another. We all ride the wave. Sometimes we get dumped, sometimes we get sand in our crotch, and sometimes it takes us to shore.
I hope you get back to shore quickly. And if you don't, just keep floating. You'll wash ashore eventually. Along with a thong or two. :p
Bec Senyard says
Loved this post lovely. You don't give yourself enough credit in the way you share your life through your blog. Can't believe it's been 6 years since David's passing. Sending love to you and your family as the anniversary rolls around. The pictures for your book look amazing. Can't wait to buy one when they're available to purchase. x
Seana Smith says
Yes, yes, yes it is so important to allow ourselves to feel all the negative emotions... not to even try to soothe them away. Pain in painful... and it's also honouring your brothers' life and his loss too.
Chicken satay recipe is welcome when you're ready to share it... and I did like hearing that we are not alone in having a leaking bathroom.