What not to say to a sleep deprived parent...

So I just read this article on 9 Things Not to Say to a Sleep Deprived Parent. It had the typical kind of guff you would expect to read - comments along the lines of "it will pass" and "sleep when the baby sleeps"...you know the sort of stuff that people with the best of intentions tell you, while you are secretly rolling your eyes inside your head and wondering if it is possible to learn to power nap with your eyes open when people give you well intentioned but thoroughly useless advice. Oh, that's just me?

As a well seasoned sleep deprived parent I have these to add to the list:

• "And it never stops - when they get older and go partying at night, you lie awake until they get home" (er, which I'm sure is true, but I imagine it would be quite different - that is unless your child is a member of the Rolling Stones  and they actually party for nights at a time).
• When a married/partnered man at work complains how tired they are because it was their turn the night before to get up for the baby so their wife could sleep (hey firstly, kudos to the guys doing this and I mean no disrespect - I think it's real awesome that you do this, but I'll fess up and say it really irritates this single mum purely out of jealousy - hey, I'm honest!)

Not that I would give away my irritation of course when having these conversations in the work kitchen while I make my fifth coffee of the day. At 9am. Out of respect that we all have our different journeys and challenges in life. But also because the one benefit of being sleep deprived is the constantly slightly dopey look my eyes have, so even if I did drop my jaw in shock or my eyes bulge open, I just look more awake. 

Instead I let people give their advice, relay their personal experiences or bemoan that they have to bathe and feed their children for one night because their husband is going out that night. And smile when they compliment me that I'm looking really perky that day.

The only thing for Evil to Triumph....

Last night I witnessed a minor instance of 'bystander effect' in a fantastic park in our area. There was a boy, probably around 16, riding his bike quite aggresively up to and around very young kids on the path, and braking hard just in time to stop hitting them. It was clearly harassment. There were lots of families around, but none of them (including many dads) said or did anything to stop this. My blood was boiling, but I felt a bit helpless. He had several friends near by, and I wondered how I could effectively stand my ground to set a good example for my kids, but in such a way as to not get him angry.

My eldest who was also seeing this, was getting both upset that he could hit our youngest child, and angry that he was trying to spoil the fun that other kids were having in the park.

So my dog and I stood in the middle of the path while my kids were playing nearby and he rode right up to me and was forced to stop because we were blocking his path. We eyeballed each other, I stood my ground and didn't say anything, before he rode up to another area of the park where bikes are allowed.

I find the bystander effect both fascinating and upsetting. I was saddened that noone else did anything - even those parents whose kids were almost hit. Angry that he thought that kind of behaviour was ok. 

I posted about this incident shortly after on Facebook, and I received a lot of supportive comments from my friends for standing up, which was lovely. But really - is this what society is becoming? Are we setting new standards for normal, so that rude behaviour is tolerated and someone who actually comments on it is applauded? Surely this can't be a good path that we're on if that's the case.

It's a minor version of "The only thing for Evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing".

Not quite Martha Stewart, but...

I like reading pins and articles in my FB feeds about tips for organising as much as the next person *looks around*. Whether it's de-cluttering, organising, tips for managing morning madness with kids - I'm no Martha Stewart- but I love them. I've read so many, but I still click and click thinking there will be some new jewel that will make things totally fall into place and make my home resemble something out of a magazine. Or at least something I don't have to apologise for when someone new comes to visit.

But I've come to realise, that most of these articles are pure common sense. As an ex-stage manager and current PA and mum, the pickings for learning is getting a little slim. With the exception of learning about capsule wardrobes last year (if you don't know about this, check it out. It's probably really what your wardrobe is in essence once you remove the clothes you actually don't like/don't wear/or doesn't fit into anymore, anyway!). That was a lightning bolt moment!

But if I read one more article that claims to change your life with organising/de-cluttering tips such as throwing away towels that are riddled with holes, using labels or storing similar toys into the one container, I think I will scream into my pillow (that was previously folded in an attempt at this, courtesy of Martha Stewart).

I'm far from perfect, but I'm not a complete lost case. I regularly get change from the bank and keep it in my car so I never have to think about parking meter money (handy considering I am usually running late for work). I keep loose change in the house specifically for last minute excursion notes. I have a shoe hanging over the door thing in the hallway for keeping our gloves, sunglasses, random accessories for me and the three kids. I usually have a couple of meals up my sleeve in the freezer and do my banking online. I have a couple of random back up presents and cards incase I forget to buy for a party that weekend.

So seriously, can people who write these articles at least give them a rating, so I know whether to read or not? Something like:

• Beginner level. i.e. you've just moved out of home.
• Advanced level. i.e. you have been living in the real world for a bit and function quite well.

Or my least favourite:

• Advertorial. I'm going to attempt to write an article which seamlessly weaves in the product I'm being paid for. (hey, I'm not begrudging people making a living from writing, but come on, these can be just as hard to read as they must be to write in a way that is interesting).

The reality is, that most of the best tips I've gotten are from having casual conversations with my friends anyway.
But if one of them starts to sell me a chux wipe mid conversation, I'm pulling out my pillow... 

I heart NY

For years I have carried this journal around in a box with other random stuff I don't look at. (c'mon we all do that righhht?). I've never been a serious journaller, but when I fulfilled a dream of travelling by myself to New York and Pittsburgh, I made notes of things I had seen and done that day. I noted some great places I ate in Pittsburgh, how it was meeting in person for the first time someone I had been writing to as a pen pal for years, and experiences like walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, through Central Park, and seeing theatre shows and art exhibitions.

It reminded me of the 20 plus hour train trip from New York to Pittsburgh. The trip ended up taking so long took because there was a fatality on the track and so the train was stopped for hours in the middle of the night who knows where. I remember how eerie it was waiting in the still, cold carriage alone until I met an older African American woman called Helen. It turned out she was diabetic and we befriended each other before I found us some blankets and looked where we could buy food for her levels (note, Amtrak service back then was beyond appalling).

Earlier that trip I had met Eric who started talking to me because I was reading a Raymond Carver novel. His eyes lit up and he lent me one of his Bukowski books, but I commented that "I'm still not sure what to make of them. A lot seem to involve drink and women. We discussed literature, relationships, and tried to guess each other's name. It turned out he was schizophrenic, so it was interesting to hear him articulate how he viewed the world as a schizophrenic, before the medication worked."

I also commented on brief exchanges with strangers - the man in the dinner who good naturedly mimicked my Australian accent when I bought coffee and a bagel, the passerby who complimented me on my outfit saying it was clear I was not American as they are too concerned with putting together a look. The brief friendship I made with Shae while I was staying at The Gershwin, who was taking a break from her partner because he was taking up too much of her energy and she needed to refocus on herself and her art. I think travelling or doing anything alone opens yourself up to new experiences and people you may not notice or invest in when you are with someone else.

I also made these self reflections all those years ago. I'm going to write them here as they are things I still need to focus on! They're probably a little naive to read now, but the intention is there:

1. I am ok and I need to like myself. I can have many facets, but I can't be everything or everyone.  I don't have to prove anything or be anything. My expectations, goals, interests, capabilities are not humble or little, they are mine. 
2. Independence is important. Being able to think, act and make decisions alone is important. 
3. Relationships are important. I need to express to those close to me how I feel.
4. I will be the only person to stop myself from achieving my goals.
5. I can do whatever I want and not let what other people may think of it, stop me. I create my own enjoyment, fulfilment and those around me will understand that, for that is what they are doing also. 
6. I don't need to impress anyone.
7. Negative experiences don't need to affect me.
8. Passion for life is important. There is always something to do, learn, make, something to experience, someone to meet, some new yummy food to eat, some book to read, film or play to watch.
9. All experiences can be learned from.

I ended up throwing out the journal because it was peppered with commentary about my ex as we had just started seeing each other, and it irked me to read it. To be reminded there was a time when we felt strongly for each other, but that even then there were hints and questions I was asking myself about him then, which hinted as to why it would ultimately not work out between us.

(Side note - as a typical sign of the times, The Gershwin appears to now have been rebranded as a more upmarket motel.)

Road to Nowhere

Relationships.
It seems so many people are wondering when they're going to be in one, if they should end one, or if they're in the right one.

And the luckiest of us are grateful we're in a great one.

I'm pretty sure that's me. I've now been seeing my man for about 18 months, and on the whole he's great. Funny, smart, gorgeous and we have a great connection. We really enjoy being together, and my kids like him too. He's seen me at some pretty low points, and that didn't freak him out. We've had some pretty frank conversations and we're still together. He's got that really attractive thing going on where he can fix stuff and build stuff (well, I find that really appealing anyway!)

The first couple of months travelled well. We both wanted to take it slow as we didn't want to have another relationship fail on us, and there were also kids involved which we were very mindful of. But he saw the kids regularly, we saw each other when we could. Things for the first six months, were travelling pretty well - not too fast and not too slow. But for the last year it feels that things have come to a standstill. We've hit the part when things are starting to feel more real (i.e. some of that shiny gloss has faded away) but we still want to be together. However things feel like they aren't progressing. Because of work and schedules, he only sees the kids briefly and occasionally, and there are times when I would really appreciate his help, but he's just not available to step up.

I guess if I had to write a report card, I would write something like "Pays attention, but could try harder. Not much improvement has been made through the year." So I've written myself an email to remind myself, and am going to re-assess it in six months. I'm hoping I can give out one of those thumbs up stamps you used to get in primary school. Or a bumble bee with Excellent Effort!

A Modern (or is that Post Modern?) Father's Day

Firstly, Happy Father's Day to the dads, mums, grandparents, whatever - to all the good role models out there who have taken on an important role on loving and being a good role model to children.

Today is my second Father's Day as a separated mum. Yesterday afternoon the kids were picked up by their dad, his partner and her children, with the usual items, along with their Father's day presents and cards that they had both made and purchased from Target.

This morning I had an early morning breakfast with my partner at his place, before I walked the dog, then met my dear friend and single mum for coffee with her two kids before we went to the gym. Then I came home and applied for our divorce online.

I quite like the irony of applying for divorce on Father's Day. It wasn't intentional, but I like it none the less!

Sold!

Our house has finally sold.

We put it on the market just after Easter, and here we are in September with confirmation that contracts will exchange next week.

Anyone who tells you that selling and moving house is stressful is right. Juggling full time work, three kids and now a dog, with open houses and inspections was hard work.

Before an inspection or open house, I would work like a banshee, juggling the craziness of the morning and attempting to make the house look like it hadn't just been ransacked by federal agents. There would be raised voices and the frantic searching for undiscovered nooks to hide random objects, and the occasional cursing that there wasn't another adult I could generally get help from (but I was lucky in that my wonderful partner helped me with the yard once a month which was a godsend). I would pack away, wipe down, turn on the mood lighting and wait. And every time there would be people who were 'just looking', or the house 'wasn't for them', or they liked it but made an offer that was not feasible for us. And so it began to feel a little like bad dating...opening up your home only to be effectively told "it's not you, it's me".

This was the home where we had bought together. During that time we brought home two more babies, had easter egg hunts and visits from the tooth fairy. Countless meals, cuddles and games of football in the back yard. Glasses of wine watching the sunset, and coffee in the morning sun.

It was also the place that my ex and I at different times fell out of love with each other, and in love with someone else. 

Thanks to a lot of renovation shows, I think there is a belief that selling real estate is like hitting the jackpot. For us it's far from that. However it allows me now to move on and choose the next home for our children and I.

So while I won't miss the stress of wondering when will the house sell, or of getting the house reasonably presentable, I will miss those short opportunities when I would arrive home an inspection and it felt so peaceful...for 5 minutes before  everything imploded...but for those short beautiful moments, there are uncluttered counters, clear floors and a carpet I can walk on without injury or crushing biscuits.

The Somewhat Obligatory New Year Post

So today I finally have a moment to jot down some thoughts about New Years. This date, the 4th Jan,  also used to be my wedding anniversary and I have to say it is a relief to have gotten to a point where I feel better about this date.

What is it about the changing of one year to the next? In a lot of ways it's just an arbitrary change - just by the change of time from one minute to the next we are hurtled from one year to the next. But we've attached so much meaning to new years and fresh starts. I guess we all like the chance to start again - to change a pattern, improve ourselves, give ourselves a chance to renew. This can happen any time, but a new year has great symbolism and holds promise.

The day of New Years Eve was a dark day for me. I always feel a little out of sorts when returning back home from being away seeing family and friends, and this was compounded by my eldest displaying incredibly challenging behaviour all day. Frankly, if he was several years older I would be entitled to refer to him as a prick, without judgement. So of course, I will not be using that term. I felt alone, a failure and frustrated. I felt let down by my lovely partner because he was busy working and didn't reach out as he didn't know I needed help. Of course, this was because I didn't ask or explain because, you know, despite the best of intentions and how better you get at stuff, old habits die hard.

So by the time 6pm came around I did not feel like socialising. I drove in silence with a full car, close to tears behind my sunglasses and screaming at myself "Remember, you do not want to be in this dark place again! Either drive around or change it and don't ruin the rest of this night!"

Our New Years Eve was spent with two other couples and their children and it ended up being a lovely evening. They have a romantic rustic place in the bush complete with its own old wooden church that is no longer used and now sits on their property. After we ate and while the children were running around in the darkness being silly, we sat in the church and drank. Through one of the small windows, I could see the camp fire on which our dinner had been cooked, glowing in the dark.

We chatted about the kind of nothing you can with friends and we all conceded that none of us bother with making New Years resolutions.

As we drove back to my place, the kids asleep in the back and the smell of camp fire around us, I confessed how bad today had been. Without judgement, he told me that I can't have another day like that again. It ended up being the first night that he stayed over at the house.

So I have no New Years resolutions to break in a matter of days. But it was definitely a night where there was a shift in our relationship for the better, and a good reminder, that no matter how bad you feel, how crappy your day, your week, your year, it can and will turn around, with a little bit of effort.

Slow down, you move too fast

I have a tendency to think ahead, to think of the what ifs, the hypothetical. To think about what could have been, what might be.

When I was first seperated, you can imagine the thoughts racing through my mind; how will I meet someone again, how will  I be able to trust someone again (with my heart, and with my children's hearts), how will I afford to keep a roof over our heads, what will Christmas look like, where is my home now - do I stay here or leave all together...you get the idea!

But over the past  year I have gotten better at trying to conserve my energy and mental space for the things in front of me that are actually happening, of trying to be more in the moment.

But yesterday, it hit me out of the blue.

You see, I was adamant that I didn't want a relationship. Then I met a fabulous person, and was adamant I didn't want things to get serious with him. And then, after we'd been seeing each other a little while, it hit me that I Really Like This Guy. And so we continued for a couple of months, both being ok with really liking the other person, and being ok with How Serious This Was Getting.

We had both come out of relationships fairly recently, and talked about taking this at the right pace especially As There Were Children Involved.

The thoughts that used to pop up in the back of my mind like You Shouldn't Be In A Relationship This Soon After Seperation, and Move Slowly, became less and less, and I was getting very comfortable with how good this was. I stopped keeping the safe distance between the two of us, and gave myself over to the fact that maybe This Could Be The One.

The weekend before last, we went on a crazy road trip that involved us catching up with our respective families, and introducing each other to our families. My family only consists of my mum and my dad. My dad and he got on like a house on fire discussing their common interest, my mum didn't cope too well (but that's a whole other issue) and he seemed ok with that too.

So everything was going swimmingly, and we were on the same page about where this was going and how we were feeling about it.

And then it started. I started noticing my professions about my feelings weren't being reciprocated at the same rate. But I was ok with that, as we're different people and he is generally very demonstrative. And then in the last week, I noticed the little reminders about us taking it slow coming back up. This time it was in how he relayed to me what his family and friends thought of me. It appears that they generally agreed that I seemed like I could be The One...but he had to take it slow/take it easy/not rush things. They have all said this to him in all good intentions, as he has a history of being in relationships with women who have ultimately taken advantage of him.

And then yesterday, after spending a lovely afternoon together with him and my kids, his farewell greeting was "My sister said on the phone yesterday to take it slow".
Buzz kill. And so since then that's all I can think about. I know he's said this in all innocence, and that he believes that there is no rules for how this relationship should play out and that he wants this to be his best and last relationship. Those words would normally have made my heart melt, but now all I can think of, is this indeed a sign from the universe? That I wasn't pushing this relationship any harder than he was, but why is he now the only one starting to put some brakes on?

Since yesterday, I have felt a bit sick about this. And I never wanted to feel sick in a relationship ever again. I still believe we have a good thing, and he has told me today that he didn't mean anything by it, that he's still madly in love with me and wants this to be his best and last relationship, but I still feel a bit uneasy.

I can rationalise what he's saying. I know we're not over. But why the feeling? The sickness? Why have I today started to put up some barriers between us, which surely is the death knell of a relationship?

And then, just a little while ago it hit me. I've been reminded that I have really fallen for this guy, and I could really be badly hurt if this ends.

Blergh.

So it's at this point, I could choose to protect myself, to end this now in case I get really hurt in the future.
Or I could keep articulating to him how I feel allowing us to work through this together, and take a gamble that I could be hurt in the future. To choose this good thing now and continuing to honour that, and see where that takes us.

I'm picking the latter...

The bump in!

I live in a 'major regional city'. Which means you're often no more than 20 minutes from virtually anywhere you need to go to. That you can drive the kids to school and day care and be sitting at your work desk within 30 minutes. That you regularly bump into people you know when you're shopping at Coles.

Last year I was dreading bumping into the woman my ex basically left me for. I made certain decisions about places not to go to, people not to talk to,  in order to minimise this risk.

But in all this time, up until today, I've only bumped into her once. It was so fleeting I almost missed it, except for catching one of her children having a full meltdown in public.

Today I was in Coles, with a trolley holding too much shopping given my online grocery shop the day before, with my youngest sitting in the toddler seat, my middle child standing up in the front of the trolley like a captain at sea, and my eldest pushing the the whole shebang. It was a rare moment of calm and perfection.

And then, I turned, saw her amongst the apples and encouraged my children to say hi to her and her kids.

She walked up to me, and we chatted, all smiles. I have never known an adult mouth to hold as many teeth as hers. It was civil, superficial, and all about the kids. We discussed paper planes and the challenges of shopping with children.

And that's why you never leave the house looking shabby, for you never know who you'll bump into!

Always remember, everything happens for a reason

It’s been a little over a year. So to commemorate the milestone, I gathered some friends who had been supportive to me during that time for afternoon tea and drinks last Saturday.

A friend brought some farm fresh eggs and home made caramel slice. Another one gave me a plaque with the words "Remember, always remember, everything happens for a reason". All brought alcohol.

It was hot. Combined with some wine, deep seated tiredness, some alcoholic punch and general awkwardness at public speaking, I endeavoured to thank my guests and to reflect on some things I’ve learned. The key lesson being to appreciate the things around you so easily taken for granted.

 And I acknowledged to the group that I was particularly thankful for meeting the man I’m currently seeing who I referred to as ‘thoroughly lovely’.

Tonight, with only a hint of a storm to come, the lights flickered, and the power went out. With a rare window of child free time before M was coming to visit I had a pile of cleaning and ironing to do. But with the loss of power I gave myself over to what was happening. And instead I sat outside, drank some wine (after all, the fridge had lost power!), listen to the birds and paint my nails in the fading light. And now that the sun has well and truly set, I’m sitting here still outside, typing on my laptop listening to the wind rushing through the trees.

Damn. Correction. The lights have sprung back on inside.

But I think I’ll go inside, turn them all off, and keep the candles burning until M arrives.

Blergh

Last week I felt blergh.

I wasn't sad or angry or confused or hurt. But I was...

Flat, numb, unfocused.
Unable to concentrate on conversations and simple tasks at home and work.
Not as interested in seeing the lovely guy I'm dating.
Unable to laugh at things I would normally laugh at.
despite the lovely spring weather, smells and sights around me, I found it really hard to appreciate its beauty.

However my desire to consume chocolate was in no way diminished!

For those who are familiar with these feelings, may have an inkling of something that I finally conceded to by the end of the week. The black dog was back.

I had previously felt its back brush up against my leg, its rough tongue lick my hand (ok, taking the analogy too far?) but this was the longest bout of depression that I've had.

I consider myself lucky that I haven't so far been completely crippled, or resorted me to medication. Yet I find its haze exhausting and frustrating.

I was diagnosed with mild depression in the early days of the separation by the counsellor I was lucky enough to be seeing, but this was definitely worse. No, there were no 'hurtful' thoughts that entered my head towards myself or my children, thank God. But for people whose response is basically 'snap out of it/look around you at your lovely children/think that things could be worse/just cheer up', then I can now absolutely testify that those words are useless and insensitive. And luckily I didn't hear them from anyone.

I confessed my suspicion about the depression to the lovely guy, an understanding colleague who caught me unaware at work, and my ex. They are pointing to a hormone IUD I had inserted over a month ago, which has had no negative effect until now. But I don't know if it's that simple... I think there's a whole myriad of factors that contributed to this, and then I came across this article which confirmed some of my thoughts.

The stress of separation. The hormone IUD. A mother with mental illness. My own issues from my upbringing (note I am not a fan of blaming others and I believe in being accountable for yourself, but it does help paint a picture). The sudden reduction in exercising, after having been a regular visitor to the gym for several months. The huge intake of processed foods (well, chocolate). Chronic long term lack of sleep.

So on Friday morning with the kids at their dad's place, I took myself for a run (er, maybe more walking than running!). And when it came time to see the lovely guy for coffee that morning before work, I could at least smile and make chit chat. I'm not implying this is an easy fix, but the fact that I felt a little better as the endorphins started to course through my body, was a relief.

So I can start to feel myself swimming up from the depths and feel things a little clearly. And the lovely guy didn't get freaked out.

So what did I learn? Something I already knew, which is that depression sucks. That this is a journey I'm just starting on. That you just can't pull yourself out of it. But with a bit of time, awareness and patience, I can help make it more tolerable until it passes.

Now You're Just Someone That I Used To Know...

I like this song. Not all of these words are exactly pertinent, but these ones in particular are:
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end

Now you're just somebody that I used to know

It's been nearly a year since our separation, and yes it's been a roller coaster of emotions. But after having overall what has been a pretty good couple of months where I felt happier than I had in a long time, plus embarking on a whirlwind romance with a guy that is disconcertingly lovely and great with the kids; for the past week and a bit I have had this weird feeling towards my ex.

Like he is dead to me.

It's awful to admit to myself, awful to write, and it was awful for him to hear this morning.

I don't hate him. But I don't like him or even feel any degree of respect. Right now, I feel absolutely nothing towards him.

I see him when we exchange the kids, but I can barely bring myself to look at him, to engage with him in anyway. At the moment, it is like he is not even there.

He knew I'd been 'shitty' in the last week and a half, so I explained on the phone - clarified, that no, I wasn't shitty...I just felt indifference.
Maybe it's the tiredness from our baby who is currently waking up pretty much every hour or two at night.
Maybe it's the hormones from the Mirena IUD I've just had put in a couple of weeks ago.
Maybe the emotions, and the thinking, and the processing from the last year, combined with the local show I worked on at nights while working during the day, has finally caught up with me, and I'm just exhausted. Too exhausted to feel anything else.

Or maybe it's that this very lovely guy, who really listens, who looks into my eyes, who engages with my kids and basically is present in a way my ex wasn't for years, has highlighted how unhappy I had been during the end of our marriage.

Happy birthday!

Tomorrow my youngest turns one.

A year ago, I was waiting to go into labour. A year ago, my husband and I were in the mad throes of finishing off our second round of renovations on our home. My in-laws had arrived to help out for several days. Our other two children were looking forward to meeting their sister.

A year ago I was absolutely exhausted after renovating, working full time, juggling two kids, not sleeping well and dealing with the anxiety caused by simulataenously knowing my marriage was in trouble but also certain that it wouldn't be about to end. When I arrived to hospital to be induced, I had no idea how I was going to get through labour. I felt absolutely exhausted, spent, shattered and labour hadn't started yet.

But he reassured me I could do this. That I'd done it before and I'd be fine. That I'd get the energy from somewhere, that it would be over and it would be worth it. He was quietly supportive, and during the day we laughed a couple of times, something we hadn't done for god knows how long.

He did the right things - passed me drinks and snacks, found me a trashy mag, made sure I ate, joked about bad baby names and tried to help me keep my gas intake under control. But I knew for certain then that the love was gone.

He was exhausted too; from work, from renovations, and something else I couldn't quite pinpoint at the time. He was going through the motions and I tell you there is no weirder feeling than giving birth in front of someone you know has become indifferent to you. Actually, it's not weird. It's fucked up and I don't wish it upon anyone. It is a terrible memory to have, and I work hard to make sure it doesn't define that day.

A month after I gave birth for the third and last time, he left.

There were many times since that day that I felt unfocussed, distraught, like I could climb the walls, that my world was falling apart. And at those times I kept reminding myself I'd somehow get through this, that somehow this would pass, that I would get the energy to keep moving forward for the sake of the children and myself.

I was lucky to have a couple of friends who would be a shoulder when I needed. Or pour me a drink.

Looking back now, I can also just begin to see that the pain was probably worth it too.

My First First Date in about Thirteen Years

So Friday night was the second round in what I jokingly refer to as an Interview for a Job I'm not sure I even want...otherwise known as the first date.

Like with Speed Dating, my expectations were low. (Let me be clear - my standards are not low, just my expectations to avoid disappointment!) My KPIs for my first first date in about 13 years were small - minimal awkward silences and that he not be a sociopath.

It went well. Exceedingly well for my first first date in about 13 years with a virtual stranger. The conversation flowed easily and honestly. I don't know if there were fireworks, but he's attractive, nice, interesting, a gentleman (which I find both charming and disarming) and I felt very comfortable with him. And it lasted 5 1/2 hours, which I guess is a pretty good effort!

I invited some friends around for brunch on Sunday morning, and they eagerly enquired how Friday night went - I think being married, plus being lovely people to boot, they enjoy listening to my single gal experiences and so were more excited about it than I was! But as I recounted how well it seemed to go, I realised that perversely a part of me was hoping to have some disastrous first dates so I wouldn't have to actually make a hard decision about a guy....

Anyway, tomorrow night we're having our second date, so we'll see if after last week we still have things to talk about!

Like a series of interviews for a job you don't even want

Ok, so for the record I am not ready for, or interested in having a relationship. Let alone have the time! However lately I've started thinking it might be nice to have someone else to catch a movie or dinner with. So...

last Thursday night I went speed dating with a fellow gal pal.

No pressure, no expectations. If there was noone there I was attracted to, I wouldn't be upset. After all - I don't want a relationship remember? No time remember? I purely regarded it as an interesting 'market research' opportunity - would there infact be anyone there I vaguely found interesting?

So after manically getting the children ready for the babysitter, and getting myself ready in about 3 1/2 minutes, I hopped into my girl friend's car. But as we got closer to the venue, I started feeling a little nervous and unprepared...the best way I can think of describing the feeling was like I was about to have a job interview for a job I didn't even want! Actually, about to have about a dozen interviews!

So we paid our $10 and nursed our first drink while cautiously scanning the room to check out the talent. We were given our score cards, and started thinking how I could make discrete notes (including scores out of 10) for each candidate, without shielding my work with my left arm as if back in primary school. But I digress...

so the ladies took their seats (my gal and I picking a comfy bench seat each) and awaited the talent.

Each date was 4 minutes long, and at first I was worried the time would pass too quickly. It turns out it's just enough time for anyone to sound interesting enough and to gauge if you want to see each other again.

After a whirl whind of potential candidates, it was a relief to find that it wasn't too hard talking to strangers for 4 minutes. There were no fireworks, but there was someone I thought I'd like to keep talking to, and we've since organised having a drink after work this Friday.

We'll see how it goes without someone ringing a bell to cut our time short!

Youth is waste on the Young

Over the past couple of weekends, I've had moments when I was completely happy being single ('single' doesn't have the painful connotations of 'separated') ...moments when I was child free and enjoying the moment and maybe getting a little closer to discovering me.

Now don't get me wrong...I love my children to bits. They are lovely, funny, clever, maddening, exhausting and they melt my heart...but it is nice to have some time to myself to be an adult, that doesn't involve being at work.

This weekend particularly, felt a little like I had managed to get the perfect blend of the freedom of 'youth' and the responsibility of being an adult. I had an incredibly rare run of three nights out in a row involving adult conversation and alcohol (including speed dating which we'll come to later), a walk into town on Saturday morning to pick up my car, flirting innocently with a cute bartender (well, trying to flirt anyway), drinking beers with friends without needing to worry about keeping an eye on my possums, and walking home in the cool fresh night air.

All these moments which make me feel happier, stronger, and help me stand in good stead for those moments like this morning when it's clear that I'm speaking to my ex from his girlfriend's bed.

Where's the male 'us'?

Last night a fellow single gal pal came around for some drinks and a debrief about navigating this relatively new single lifestyle...it's been about 8 months for me, and a little over a year for her.

I have not yet dipped my toe into what I have heard is a relatively small dating gene pool (given that we live in a 'regional centre', and from what I have heard from other single gal pals), while she has just started to wade in. We're not after a serious relationship, but we're at the point that we would like to meet someone that we could grab dinner with, see a movie or potentially engage in other nocturnal activities with...

I'm starting to hear some horror stories - you know the guys who send photos to prove how attractive they find them (if you get my drift) when they've barely exchanged names and numbers, the guys who are married but want to play the field and other charming behaviour...but I'm trying to make sure that those stories don't cloud by otherwise fledgling optimism.

And we figured last night - well here we are, two reasonably attractive, intelligent women, who like food, good conversation, a glass (or several) of wine and certain nocturnal activities - there must be the male version of us out there!


But not in the weird "I'm in love with myself" sense (pardon the low resolution):

A funny thing happened on the way to the chemist..

In a couple of weeks I'm getting a Mirena inserted - I figure even though the likelihood of having sex is incredibly low, the last thing I need (apart from a hole in the head and say to be attacked by a shark) is another kid!

So with prescription in hand, I go to the chemist after getting over my trepidation about having an IUD inserted in my lady parts (I'm not a prude, I just find that phrase quite funny at the moment). I've shaken off the stigma of IUDs being old metal contraptions from the 1970s and am feeling all cool and yay me doing something else for myself which I don't need to discuss with anyone else and how lucky women are in the first world to easily take control of their bodies and reproductive health blah blah blah...when the chemist hands over a rectangular box containing said IUD...which is almost as long as my arm! Eek!

So I'm in the chemist holding a massive box (*snigger) and have to immediately grapple not only the thought of how much of this device is going to be inserted inside my uterus and kept there for about 5 years; I also had to struggle carrying it discreetly in a virtually transparent plastic bag, down the main street and back up to work on my lunch break!

Note re *snigger. I'm just a big lover of double entendre.

Offspring

Any Australian readers here will be aware of Offspring - the series on Channel 10 with the wonderful Asher Keddie playing Nina, a obstetrician who is funny, intelligent, a little insecure, with a fondness for decorative owls and a great wardrobe. The show is a little quirky and is peppered with fantasy interactions with her family and friends which are often humorous and a window to her soul.

When I was pregnant recently, I sometimes channeled how Nina dresses - my favourite outfit was a skinny leg pair of electric blue pants, a charcoal top, a long orange cardigan and tan knee high boots...trust me, it looked better than it sounds!

So tonight was the first episode in the new series, and I've just finished watching it.  I'm proud I made it through with a touch of melancholy and no tears!

Nina returns to work after having several months off maternity leave. Her partner (and the father of their daughter) died before she was born.  The show perfectly captured the sadness and almost surreality of losing someone, especially at a time which is meant to be joyful, of returning to work after maternity leave - trying to jump back into normal life, of feeling that your lost special person is both everywhere and nowhere at once.

A particularly touching moment on imagining seeing Patrick at work "And there you are, my special person, out there in the real world."

But to balance out the sad moments, there were some comedic gems, my favourite being Billie (Nina's sister) encouraging her to masturbate.

"And Nina, don't fake orgasm to yourself."