Soccer Mum

I became a soccer mum.
I didn't want to be one.
I resisted.
I wanted to have a tantrum like a 3 year old.
I don't wear white joggers with jeans.
But it happened.

Today however I got to share a moment with JD
A moment where we both danced like goons in public
and high-fived on the sideline.

His First Goal... followed minutes later by his second goal !

 Making the break away 

 Kicking it in

Victory Dance.

A Mother by any other name

Mothers Day.
It had the potential to be a disaster.

I spent the morning with my mumma.
I whizzed over to her house early and picked her up,
wowed her by ordering coffee via an app on my phone
and amazed her even more when the coffee was ready when we arrived.

We took a slow, meandering journey into the hills.
Chat, chat, chat all the way.
We stopped briefly to peruse a local village market,
where we argued about which of us would buy the bromeliads  in a tea pot. (I won)

We wound our way out of the hills and back to town.
Here the executive decision was made that in celebration of our motherly-ness
we would dine on scones with jam and cream for lunch.
Supplies were obtained and we returned to my house to meet my children.

Miss L and J-Dizzile bounded from their daddy's car
bearing beautiful potted succulents and a marigold.
They were happy to see that I had already spend some time Saturday potting new plants.

We headed to Nanny and Poppy B's house and devoured our
ridiculously sweet lunch treats before again hitting the road.

Laden with bunches of white and lilac chrysanthemums we headed out
to visit the mumma's and nanna's that we no longer share air with.
I was proud of the respect my babies showed as we visited my nanna's graves.
More so I was proud of them, when Miss L noticed the grave opposite my nanna's
shared her surname, even more creepily, this lady also shared Miss L's given name.
We read her headstone and noted that she was born exactly 100 years before Miss L.
Miss L and J-Dizzile were saddened that no-one had visited this lady's grave and chose to share
their flowers with her. I was deeply moved by their generosity and compassion.

I returned my mumma to her home and my babies to their daddy,
and headed to help my Mr and his sister prepare for epic birthday awesomness.
Mr's mumma is turning six-oh and her beautiful family had organised a surprise party!
We decorated the venue, before I crept off for a quick nap, before the party :)
On returning home I discovered a beautiful gift from my previous nights house guests,
a block of chocolate and a mothers day cookie !

Mr's mumma was truly surprised.
The look on her face when she saw her friends was joyous,
the look on her face when she saw her brother from Sydney.... priceless.
The warmth of this gathering was evident, but what was about to become even more evident
was that I had become a part of something wonderful... a new family.
Mr's mumma introduced me to the room full of guests as the newest part of their family.
Not gonna lie, I got a but choked up, a bit misty eyed.
Never have I been so deeply touched and more generously welcomed.

Mothers Day 2013, not the disaster I had predicted, instead a beautiful day shared with people I love.

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid

If I have learnt anything in the last 31 years it is this;
You will find exactly what you need, when you are not looking for it.
The things that elude you do so for a reason, you are not ready yet.
The people that come into your world
are either a blessing or a lesson.
And are sent to make you stronger.

Had you asked me 12 months ago, I would have told you I didn't believe in love.
Well I mean, I believe in love; I love my kids and my family and my friends.
What I mean is that knock your socks off, I am eternally blessed to have you in my life,
you are "the one" love.
That just doesn't happen.

Yeah I am a cynic and a non-believer, it seems terribly sad doesn't it?
It's OK, I'm not sad about it, I just make adjustments to my life accordingly.
For example; I was so disheartened with the concept of true love,
I even stopped photographing weddings.
I could not tolerate the happiness.
The brides with all their gushiness and their voluminous white dresses and perfect hair
and grooms in their crisp suits and cufflinks,  looking longingly into their brides misty eyes - gak.

But something happened to me.

I am changing.
I hear the music, as parts and a whole, he taught me that.
I smell, lavender, sesame oil and damp earth, from sitting still beside him.
I see my faith and beliefs expanding, through deep conversations with him.
I feel contentment and joy, because he shares them with me.
I taste the delicate flavours in the meals that we share, because he sits across the table.

I believe again.

And it is beautiful.

Listening to Shame

Some months ago, I was incredibly moved by Brene Brown's TEDx talk 
"The Power of Vulnerability".

Today, I felt vulnerable. 
I have what Brene calls a "vulnerability hangover"
I had opened myself up, exposed myself.
I felt completely unguarded.
Despite the fact that it was with someone I love deeply
It felt raw. 

Connections bring purpose and meaning to our lives;
I have previously blogged about the connections in my life.
I am blessed that my vulnerability has given me the ability 
to love and be loved wholly.

Today's hangover was fuelled by one thing; Shame.

Shame. 

The I am not's.
I am not enough.
I am not good enough,
I am not pretty enough,
I am not thin enough,
I am not smart enough, 
I am not funny enough,
I am not young enough,
I am not ladylike enough, 
I am not important enough.

ENOUGH! 

Opening up and being vulnerable had bought on this shame spiral.
Why? I thought Brene said that vulnerability is imperative to connection? 
Well it is.
But instead of wading in my shame, looking at it, then walking away. 
I stayed stuck and floundering in my own self worthlessness.
I needed to get out.
I FB chatted my love and he said this:

"its funny how sometimes our minds think about stuff from the past that really doesn't matter at all"

and he was right.
My sense of self worth was being drawn from things that were and things that no longer are.
I am letting go of that.
I am knowing my worthiness.

I am worthy of the love that I receive, I will accept it graciously. 
I am worthy of the happiness I feel, I will seek it and allow it to flourish. 
I am worthy of the joy I experience, I will share it with others.

But what I realised too is that I have to have the courage to be imperfect and to connected with others imperfectly.

"I would walk 1000 miles if I could just see you, tonight"

Pencils, Paints, Crayons and Love

Today, I did something I have not done in a long time.
I unwrapped a fresh canvas and let my heart draw on it.

I set my babies up by my side with their paints and sets of water colour paper,
and we went to work.

Never with an idea in my mind, my work draws itself on the canvas.
My pencil makes shapes without control, my pastels shade and blend
driven only by a sense of balance.
Crayons and paints smooth together creating texture and movement.

My babies made self portraits and pictures of their dad.
They played in the colours of their watercolour paints,
adventurously blending colours and experimenting with what might happen.

This is how things look at the end of the day.
Some are already hung on the fridge.
Mine is awaiting the final touches.

The Weekend with ALL THE THINGS.

My weekend had ALL THE THINGS!

A road trip with the BF.
Ice-skating, my first ever adventure on ice.
A romantic night away.
Delicious breakfasts.
Strolls by the ocean.
Playing Marylin Munroe at the Sawtell blow hole.
A photoshoot at the local Agricultural Show with the beautiful and talented Minyarose Photography.
Eating carny food.
Watching bull riding and woodchopping.
My babies came home from their dad's house.
An ANZAC service.
A picnic in the park.
Horse riding with Deegan and Shannon.
and Movies with the munchkins snuggled in bed.

I'm a Survivor

I'm a survivorI'm not gonna give upI'm not gonna stopI'm gonna work harderI'm a survivorI'm gonna make it I will survive and keep on survivin'- Destiny's Child, Survivor 


It's been 2 years. 
I am still alive. 
Because of friends, family, my babies, my man, therapy and drugs.
These years have been long, swift, changing, challenging, beautiful, awkward, evolving, educational and a blessing. 

Not only have I noticed changes in me; I have witnessed changes for my family and friends. 
Princess A turned her life around with a career change, My sista from another mister is moving to the big city to  follow her destiny, my art-soulmate is engaged to her sweetheart and I await the moment I can witness their marital union, my bro and SIL blessed the world with a beautiful new human, my children make me proud every day with their personal and educational growth. 

There are also new people in my life, and while our friendships are in their infancy, I feel like these beautiful people have been in my life forever. I love my C&D boys, but more I love their WAG's. These women embraced me and made me welcome to their inner circle. Women that I would probably never have met nor "chose" as friends under any other circumstances now fill my Friday and Saturday nights in bars with laughter and fun.

I would be lying if I said that it was all smooth sailing. 
It's not. 
My moods still fluctuate. 
I still struggle to control my emotions and words. 
I still cry and laugh manically; sometimes at the same time. 
But I am managing and sometimes I think that this is the best it will be.
I am ok with that. 
What makes it  more ok, is that there is a man that loves me, 
regardless of my imperfections, he actually embraces and encourages my idiosyncrasies  . 
When things are out of control in my head, he is in control, 
his voice speaks softly to my soul, and levels out my brain. 
His gentle calmness balances out my loud craziness almost perfectly.

The last 12 months have bought art back into my life on a more regular basis. 
Clearly I am blogging again.
I am writing .
I am art journalling. 
I am drawing.
I am painting. 
And I am accepting my mistakes, 
because art is no longer about perfection for me, it is about expression. 

As I am writing this, I am listening to my friends make beautiful music in the living room. 
Reflecting on the choices that I presented myself with 2 years ago, to live or to die. 
I was leaning so heavily towards taking my own life that when I think about it now I can;t believe that it was even a thought in my mind, let alone something I was prepared to do. 
How on earth did I think it would be OK to miss out on all the magic I am experiencing right now.

My life is not perfect but I am content and that is the best feeling ever. 

Happy, Health and Here. 

Photo: GS