Is Anything Mine? ANYTHING at all?

For some weird reason, I have given myself a blog-writing deadline for every Thursday. Why Thursday? I have no idea. Maybe because if it's Friday or over the weekend, everyone will be preoccupied with their busy schedules and may not read it; and if it's Monday to Wednesday people will have less of a sense of humour (I know I do) as they realise that their weekends are, in fact, over quicker than I can finish a bar of Topdeck? So all week I wonder what I am going to write about; convinced that I have lost my mojo for good. It’s all very stressful and intimidating I must say.

Barry is away for the week again (sigh and eye roll), and my quest to be the perfect mom is still failing in full swing – even after my deep and meaningful soul searching over the last few weeks. My search for inner peace (Po from Kung fu Panda style) is proving difficult too, as is my attempt at losing a bit of weight (I have spent the last two nights stretched out on my husband's lazy-boy under a blanket, watching This Is Us while scoffing a bag of speckled eggs. I had bought a bag each for Barry and me… but in all fairness it isn’t my fault that he is away working and had left his bag in the TC - ‘Treats Cupboard’).

While on my mission to feel more comfortable with myself, I have realized what an awkward person I am. Does anyone else ever feel a bit uneasy in large crowds, around new people or maybe someone you don’t know very well? I do, and I have discovered that my way of dealing with these self-conscious feelings is to talk. A lot. I have, on several occasions, found myself talking so much that my mouth has actually gone dry. By the time I realise I should wrap it up, I am in too deep telling an irrelevant and probably way too personal story to back out now. I guess it’s because I hate awkward silences… so I take it upon myself to fill them. 

Give me half an hour with a total stranger and I can guarantee you that they will know that my husband is a recovering addict and the ins and outs of my dodgy digestive system.

I have now started telling myself that less is more, in the hopes of curbing my extreme verbal diarrhea. I will let you know how that goes, so far it hasn’t been very effective. Time will tell I guess.

This is approximately my 2373rd day of being a mom and I am still trying to figure out what the heck I am doing. My weekdays are more like little whirlwinds. I lie in bed at night trying to catch my breath, scolding myself for my impatience and poor parenting choices made that day. Sometimes my thoughts will turn somewhat woeful, like last night when I became conscious of the fact that from the moment our kids were born, the countdown began to the time that they will no longer need us or rely on us for everything, and then to the time that they will leave the nest to fly (and maybe crash) on their own. As depressing as this is, I guess it is also a reminder that the countdown doesn’t ever stop, or pause for even a second. The memories we make during it is what matters most, and I keep striving to be the mom that I want my kids to remember.

This thought also made me realise that another countdown has also begun… the countdown to the day that I will be able to call my hairbrush or my iPad my own again. I mentally made a note of all the things that are “mine” but are actually not. I thought I would share a couple with you:

1. As I mentioned above, my hairbrush. My poor brush has been used on my daughter's dolls and even the dog (it was thoroughly cleaned after I promise) and I miss it being just mine. I also miss being able to find it in the drawer that I put it in. Those were good times…

2. My glass of juice. I can count on one hand the number of times I have had my own glass of juice. If I walk away from it, there is a high likelihood that there will be bits of food floating in it by time I return. The trick is to pour half a glass and then down it as fast as you can. There is a risk of a massive brain freeze, but it's a risk I am willing to take.

3. My shopping-list notebook and pen. I mean, is nothing sacred anymore?? I may have let this get to me a bit more than I should. Last night I got home to find more random scribbles on my notebook and totally LOST the plot. I ended up throwing it on the floor, shouting “this is miiiiiine!!” and stomped off like a sulking 3 year old. In my defense, I had asked, very nicely, at least a dozen times for the book to be left alone. As I walked away I felt a bit embarrassed by my outburst and I heard Luke say “well that was awkward”.

4. The food on my fork - literally on its way to my mouth. This is usually the exact moment Casey will say “can I try that mommy?” I have stopped myself several times from pulling a Joey from Friends and shouting “KELLY DOESNT SHARE FOOOOOOOD!” at her. 

She will also stand right next to me and talk while I am eating. Like, right there so I can barely move my arms to use the cutlery. Luckily I am not claustrophobic. I do feel the urge to growl at her sometimes though…

1. My handbag. Oh, how I miss opening it and finding my own rubbish inside. I now have a box of kiddies’ plasters, old snot tissues (not mine), kids’ snacks (the ones I don’t like) and a spare pair of undies for Luke in there. Oh, and you can also find (my pet hate) the 1000 restaurant mints Barry threw in there and then promptly forgot about – I swear, if anything, this would be our reason for divorce.

2. My phone. I have discovered that, if I want my phone to remain scratch-and-crack-free, I need to keep it on a high surface. Also, if I accidentally leave it on the coffee table, I find hundreds of emoji messages Casey has sent to anyone she can recognize by their WhatsApp profile picture. I will also get messages during the day sometimes from my Mother in-law or our Au pair saying “Love you mommy” followed by pictures of several hearts and a random lobster. I must warn them about the high surface thing.

The only things that are still mine are the two boxes of Tampax in the bathroom drawer. And can I tell you a secret? One of them is full of my hidden chocolate stash. 

So, wish me luck for the week ahead trying not to disclose too much of my personal life to strangers. I will leave you with one of my nighttime thoughts about life:

Sometimes you expect a chocolate sprinkle doughnut and life gives you a brussle sprout. But then there are the times that you expect a vrot banana and life throws you one of those slabs of chocolate with the popping candy in it. I think it’s called balance…