Glue.

There is one positive of your heart crashing into a thousand shards.

From picking up the broken mess, you gain insight into fully appreciating the glue and construction needed to piece it back to it's former..  yet even stronger glory.

The glue that holds us together, comes in more forms than that of a shelf of a craft shop. It's singing so loudly in the shower.  It's receiving that text.  It's a compliment.  A facebook message. It's a song on the radio, that speaks to you.  It's family.  It's letting the flood gates open. Friends. It's a warm cup of tea.  It's a shoulder to cry on.  It's the life line thrown.  The words spoken.  The safety net, to catch you if you did fall.

It's you.  You.  

You don't have to eat one slice of Swiss cheese or a piece of cherry pie, to have your beautiful butterfly moment.

I have navigated myself, to this place where I have full ownership.  I hold my own microphone. I am still Loz, just now with shinier armour.

I stand on my own two feet.

My landing spot, is in the middle of a house that is 85% packed into boxes.  I feel the significance of moving house, weighs heavily on me.  I feel I am closing the door on this chapter of Me, and walking on with my shoulders back and completely thankful.

I have had moments in the past, that have tested the very being of this Loz.  Each tale on this here blog, will point to the very public fact it has been a journey to say the least. I have shared each one, almost as a healing process. There has been the utmost highs and then the tumbling lows that have you sobbing so violently in the shower.  You feel alone.  You don't even know what help is, to ask for it.

When you come to rely so heavily on yourself, you eventually realise.. that you are strong.  You know that you can achieve.  You can sell a house. You know that holding onto that former Loz, is only fuelling it's toxic nature.  You bag it up, and throw it away.  Alongside the twenty pairs of jeans your hips will never fit back into.  Gone.

At the ripe age of 30.  I think I am finally paving the way to the person I want to be.  Embracing the person, I am. I am different.  I have a very ironic sense of humour.  I am passionate.  I speak the truth. I love sharing. I am an introvert, socialising exhausts me. I need time, to just be me.  I sing loudly.  I am no longer avoiding eye contact. I am a great and realistic parent. I love cooking for my family.  I don't rely on what I cannot provide for myself. I love funny text messages.  I love sharing ideas. I do have passion.  I am brave.  I want to study.  I want to learn. I love solitude, but I want friendships. I want to create. I want to learn how to renovate a bathroom.  I want to run 5kms.  I want to enjoy my freedom.

I have an extremely confident partner.  It would be have been easy to float alongside that voice of confidence, living a beautiful life nonetheless.  But, I have dreams that I need to voice too.  Ideas that I need to cough up.   I have used his strong shoulder, to guide myself to where I am.  Sometimes, in my own scary situations.  I pretend to be him.  Fake it, until you make it.   I have had him pick me up, at my weakest,  Hold me, ever so tightly when my heart broke.  When I thought I was useless.  He is my strongest glue.  He made me feel beautiful again.  Gave me time, to find me.  To run.  To walk.  To remind me, that I am Loz.. and he wished that I could see how amazing I am.


 I have found a confidence, that even I believe in now.

I have given myself, this time.  This time to pack up the kitchen alongside my memories.  To give them the breathing space they deserve, while recognising the stance of this very strong Loz.

To appreciate the glue than binds me. 

The thought of closing the door to this house for the final time, is quite confronting.  Leaving behind, all those memories.  Some you take with you, boxed up next to the Tupperware. Others you leave behind, drawing breath from them.

Be bold.
Be truthful.
Be brave.
Be you.

Loz x

Emily.

There is something about Emily.  Something special.  A connection that she has with life, that I hope she never loses sight of.  

I love her way.  Her way with words.  Her way of life.  Her mind.  Her little face. Her nose crinkled as she delves into her think bank.

Bath time, rivals a lesson at the local pool.  The water temperature is like a page out of Goldilocks.  Not to hot, not too cold.. juuuust right. Washing hair, requires a pinch of determination and sometimes a pair of goggles thrown in for good measure.  

As she masters the art scooting along to the park, she stops and looks to me and says "Mum.  Say it.  say it, GREAT JOB!"  

You are doing a great job Emily.  

I watch her some days.  Marvel at the little girl before my eyes.  Her confidence.  Her bright smile.  Her quirky way of doing things.  Her sense of humour.  Her ability to seek, to find and most importantly to think.  

The building gene, is high.  From the couch, we watch you on your phone.  Clipboard in hand, reading from your list.  You need, hammers, nails, wood, vegetable seeds and hinges.  Planning an imaginary garden, takes some organisation.  Least your chickens won't go hungry, because you remembered to call them back and add chicken feed to your order. 

A dream of being an artist, that paints pictures that have the sun in the sky.  With an artist's hat. Of course.  Play-doh.  Mister Maker.  YouTube videos of craft.  Pictures of craft. The craft shop.  The highly prized Glue Money that your Granda sends you.  The newly purchased watercolour set, is the actual knees of a bee.

A huggle from an Emily, is very special.  It takes all her cells and beings, to wrangle all her limbs around you.  Her little face snuffles into your neck, and it makes your heart.. come alive.

I could just eat you UP! 

Apparently not, because you are made of "Bones and muscles mum, I am a person.. not food"

A pint size version of Chris.  No wonder I have run out of words for him after work.  The day has already been spent navigating a miniature version of him.  Two peas, one pod.  One gets into less fights with David Jones, however.

A relationship with Aunty Deb, is one I aspire to.  Baking together, is something memories are made of.  Setting timers, sharing the beaters and choosing the icing.  I have learnt, from watching.  That there is always time.  Always time to listen, to answer and to join in.  That you can achieve more by talking, and explaining.  I hit the jack pot with my sister.  

We have a deal.  The fairy lights are on?  It is so very nearly bed time.  

That deal, is broken many a night. Rumbles in tummy.  Books that have fallen on the floor.  A reason which you forgot as you hover at your door. Your night light on, The Night Time Crew all huddled in.  

Emily Grace.  Keep on being the you. The you, hat has me in fits of laughter.  The you, that cares so much.  The you, that paints all day.  The you, that wants so much to learn.  The you, that I love.

Because Emily, I love you.  More than words can ever say. 

I am proud to be your Mum. 

Muuuuuuuum.

I am sitting here, perched on our lime green couch.  Washing machine blurring, Tessa-dog nestled quite comfortably under the heater vent.  I have listened to the Madagascar CD three times and have applauded the pirouettes of one Princess Emily. I have made smeared jam on pikelets for morning tea and I have three browsers open trying to find something enticing to do with the Chicken defrosting.

Some days, I rock at my gig as Mum.  Some days, I am the Mum that wonders what shitty hand of cards she was dealt.

It will never be easy.  I don't think you can consider wholly looking after the well being of a little one, easy.  Challenging?  Rewarding?  Character building?

I am the kind of Mum who:

::  Has learnt to like mess.  Miss Craft-a-lot 2013 has made me embrace this this act.  Play doh, paper,  glue, pipe cleaners, pens and pencils.  I have tried to find systems and organisation.  It doesn't exist. 

::  Finds an iPad a saviour while you just want a shower.  In peace.  Without an audience.  

::  Gets frustrated.  

::  Has handed the reigns of the car stereo over to the likes of Playschool, The Wiggles and the CD her daycare made.

::  Wonders if she will ever get her tummy back after it housed a 9lb 6oz baby. 

::  Can rustle up a dinner, the night before shopping.  

::  Pins a billion activities onto Pinterest, but forgets their existence when we are in need of something to do.

:: Posts far too much on Facebook.  Hello, it is my main social interaction.  Sorry 'bout that.

::  Pretended to ring Emily's daycare to make sure I had the right recipe for their Tuna Bake.  Emily ate the whole bowl.  Winning.

::  Promised to paint her daughter's nails.. if she lets Mum 'do her writing'

::  Blew up the iron.

:: Is slowly navigating her way around this parenting lark.  Some people make it look easy.  I believe I expect a lot.  So much so, that I get upset when the wheels start to fall off.  I am learning, to play.. to break down my own expectations, to love the moment.. for what it is.. limit on line time, be present and if all else fails.  Dance.  Dance like a loon.  Never fails me.

::  Shouts when my fuse is blown.  I hate it.  

::  Finds humour, in most things.  I love laughing.  I have a distinct sense of humour, it's lost on most people.  Irony is my middle name.  Parenting, needs a good belly laugh every now and then.  

:: loves grocery shopping alone.

::  Is finding that balance.  It sounds odd to say, but I forgot how to play.  It has been a long haul in selling houses.. that I forgot.  I am finding my groove again.  Setting up little activities.  Going down the lane called imagination.  It is amazing, the connection you can make by just playing with the dolls house.. or finding a book.. or playing Princess Fairies.  Turning the telly off.  Some days, exhaustion sets in and you almost seem to float through until dinner.  I am challenging my old way of doing things.  I am very much looking forward to settling in our new house.  

:: finds writing therapeutic

:: is finding Loz again.  Embracing the Mum I want to be.  Dancing to our own beat. 

:: loves nothing more than hearing the words "I love you Mum"

:: Cannot believe my little girl is growing up.

Loz x

   

Killing me softly.

I feared that today, would be my demise.  That in a few hours, Chris would walk through the front door and find me cushioned and clinging for dear life between a lego block and a book of fairy tales.

Not for the faint hearted, I assure you.  Amongst this mayhem, was families of Sylvanians (not accustomed to mingling with the likes of headless Lego men) wooden blocks, broken pegs, blu tack and one lone pair of binoculars.  

I tipped every bucket, every basket, every box.. onto the floor. I had already bargained with Emily, that I had a Kinder Surprise in the cupboard with her name on it. I poured my first coffee of the day and put some tunes on to work to.  Oh dear, Kids music.. leaves a lot to be desired.  After the third wiggles album and the beginning of The Fairies.. It really was a near death experience.

Lunch Break. 

The Sylvanian families, happy in their new home, a box dedicated to Emily's beauty regime (IE: a billion hair ties, clips, a toy hair dryer and nail polishes) and sneakily putting debris of the certain carnage a Three year old causes.. into the bin.  

Another pile had been created.  One for the 'babies' Or to you or I.. The Salvos.  Because I once tried to explain to Emily that her toys would be of better use to a family that needed them.  She took that quite literally and thought they were coming in ten minutes to pocket all her toys.  Now, they go to the babies.. for she is a big girl.

A few good hours, many a sing-a-long, two coffees, lunch, an outfit change, a kinder surprise and some willpower and determination. We have floor.  Nothing, I repeat.. nothing is under her bed.  The Night Time Crew are even all eyebrows raised, because this is something relatively new to their eyes.

Everything, has a home.  I am hoping it will make the packing process a tad easier.  I managed to sneak two boxes of toys away, while leaving the favourites out and not too sparse.  I love Emily not only has a hairdressers kit.. but a tool box too. 

She is a resilient little poppet, we're not going crazy and causing a fuss about her moving.  But little things along the way, are making a big difference in her world.

And in the meantime..  the packing continues.

18 days.

Loz xx

My turn.

Hair tie in hand, because the day care lady "does her hair better" and Mr Snuggly under arm.  She was ready.  Her back pack, filled with spare everythings.  Her new boots on,  teamed with warm bright wool socks.  Her skippy steps that keep up with mine, opening up the door to her room to a chorus of little Hello EMILY!'s 

I tootled on home in Tina Barina.  I was welcomed at the door by the ten kilogram or so ball of shedding wonder.. Tessa-dog.  Her nose pressed to my eyeballs, was a clue that she too.. is missing our runs.  Ironically, I am run down.  I cannot shake this cold.  I feel I have never had enough sleep.  I am Tired.   Running hasn't featured highly on my agenda. 

I plugged my ears with my new favourite album. I wished I too, had put on my woolly warm socks.  Leopard print ballet flats were not cutting it today.  We plodded along.  A quick meander around the block turned into a 4 km not so quick meander.  Tessa-dog was appreciative.  In hindsight, I was too.  I need moments in my week, where I am just am.  Especially now.  We are a tad exhausted here at Ninja Towers.  Late nights, wrangling the ever hungry Emily.  Early mornings, starting work near 2 hours away.  Packing.  Planning around two houses. Parenting.  Life.  Same old, but it does catch up with you.

I sat on the couch.  Wet hair from my shower.  I looked at the unfolded pile of washing.  The dirty dishes.  Then the clock.  The inevitable, had finally caught up with me. I had shifted enough times in my seat, to finally book an appointment.  Each prescription update, my doctor would ask me.  I'd shift uncomfortably and promise to book up next week.

Because, having a Pap Smear.. is not what I exactly want to be doing on a precious day-care day.

Health, is on my priority list.  I gave myself a big talking too.  Someone who had surgery for CIN 3, should never ever let their pap smear test lapse.  {What is Cervical Cancer?}  {Pap smear test}I gave myself a massive kick up the bum, made an appointment and went.  I mean, less than five minutes of awkward conversation for peace of mind.  Done.

I have had a really crap run with health in the last few years.  I am determined to not let the woe-is-me team win.  I struggle, with my diet.  Some foods I seem intolerable too.  I feel nauseous 98% of the time.  The Pill seems to not work.  I have tried a new one, that seems to help with some issues, but flares other ones up. I get cysts on my face, it's as pretty as it sounds. I have a faulty stomach valve, that causes severe reflux, which I am on medication for. 

It is safe to say, that it can feel quite over whelming. 

Some days, it does get on top of me.  I seem to have a low immune system, I feel like I am always shaking something off.  I have been at loss what is causing my symptoms, whether it be hormonal or digestive.  I have history of endometriosis.  Have been tested for everything under the sun. I have had my gall bladder out recently.  I also have neighbours that seem to wake me up every thirty minutes.  We are also self employed, only wrangler to said Ninja and only so many minutes in the day.  

However. My head is there, My head is saying LET'S DO THIS.  My head has never been in such a happy clappy place, whereas my body is shuffling three blocks back asking if we can stay at home and watch Ellen.  I wish the two would meet half way and find holy matrimony.  

I honour my health. 

I will have those uncomfortable moments.  I will ask questions.  I will do research.  I will exercise.  I will cry in the car to my husband.. because I have to go back next week because the test they took might not be usable  I will keep my mental and physical health in check. I will see the dentist.  I will take of myself. 

Because if I don't.. who will?

Your turn.

linking up with the esteemed published author:

I have..

I have covered 99.9% of the dining room table in what can only be described as: Loz is getting stuff DONE.  I have lists, I have a calender, I have a clicky pen and a face that says one strong skinny cappuccino please.  

Music is playing, because it's daycare day and I am enjoying the lyrics to songs that don't have Humpty falling off a wall.

I have had a phone glued to my ear. I have had twenty five tabs open on my trusty lap top.  I have stared at the calender and deemed it three weeks until we wake up in Ninja Towers V.2.  I have played hunter and gatherer and there is indeed food for the one with rumbles in her tummy.  I have a green tea and I am wishing it was a Tim Tam.

I have precisely packed zero boxes today.

I feel like it has been a full eternity, to get to this point.  I look back and see how far we have come, I look forward and see a paint brush in my hand.  I bought myself some gardening gloves at Aldi today.  Because it's The Day of the Triffids situation at the new place.  

The state of the house, screams "we don't do open homes any more"

I have stared at Kindergarten enrolment forms.  I have rung local day care centres.  I have put our notice in at our current one.  I tried to get Emily in locally for her 3.5 year check.  Surprise surprise, I couldn't get in.  I might just ask Tessa-dog for the assessment then.  Proof in my despise in allowing the building three billion homes without providing the adequate services.  I feel a letter coming on.

I have rung Chris, he left at ridiculous o'clock this morning.  

I have done the unthinkable, and brought the washing in before it got rained on.

I have had a complete moment, that my little girl will be a Kindergarten kid next year.  I cannot even fathom the point that we are even looking at primary schools.  

It is a funny old time here.  I feel eerily calm.  Yet, I lie awake some nights and feel overwhelmed.  I plod along.  Packing up our treasured belongings and contemplating their new homes.  

It's happening.  It really is happening.

I have made my lists, my plans.. and my peace.

Loz x

#FMSphotoaday

It is fair to say, I think lots.  I do most of my thinking, either when I can't shift into slumber or while I'm colour coordinating my pegs at the clothes line.  I think bigger picture, I think on the smaller scale and sometimes I check the mail box for my invitation for the over-thinkers Olympics.

My thinking, doesn't equal stress.  My thinking can be as simple as planning on making a book for Emily.  I want to call it "Tessa-dog in the window"  The plot changes ever so much.  My thinking can be what I should buy at the shops for dinner.  My thinking can be how to convince my jiggly bits they were made for running.  My thinking can be, what colour we should paint the bathroom.  My thinking could be, I really want a second child.. but newborn world still scares me.

I love turning these thoughts into words.  I share probably 40% of them onto this here blog.  Most of them, lay unwritten in my brain.  I write here, to share the journey of us.  I know family near and far, log in and get a peak into the life that is outside a phone call or facebook update.  I really do forget, that people read here.

I love that.

My mind wonders often, if I share too much.  We are on the cusp of what social media will mean for our kids.  Will Emily read back on this blog, and think.. what the hell Mum?  I however edit everything I share.  I write from my head space and not for anyone else.  Some things in life, need not to go any further than the space it takes up in your memory bank.

I started writing here, because I was sick to the back teeth on what motherhood was portrayed as in my parenting magazines.  Motherhood is beautiful, dizzy, scary, insightful, messy, incredible and one journey that is as individual as the prints on your finger tips.

Social media is incredible in sharing a story.  There is a billion apps under this very sun for the over-sharer in all of us.  You can video, shoot, write, facebook, photograph, tweet or send a carrier pigeon of your message into the Mr Worldwide.

I love that.

Since it's inception, I have participated in the {photo a day challenge} by {fat mum slim} it has combined my love of thinking + shooting + sharing.

A prompt, a photo.  Sometimes a picture can really wrap up a thousand words.  I love thinking outside the square.  I love how a moment will literally stop me.. and go that is today's prompt.  Like this morning, I stopped and saw Emily's pj's had stars on them.  I stopped, knelt on the floor and snapped her playing away at her mirror.  Then we sat and shared pretend cups of coffee on the carpet.  I loved that I took that moment.  Shared and captured.

There is a fine line in documenting every breath in your life and sharing.  I am finding that line.  167 friends on my facebook account, didn't wake up to hear that I have a massive spot on my chin that will not die or I had a fight with my husband or that Emily hid my Tiffany's bracelet I am hoping I will find it while we are packing.  Ahem.

Each prompt, via {facebook}and on {instagram} fat mum slim, Chantelle shares her fab four.  One morning I woke up to find I was part of this said fab four.  I was over the moon.  Over the MOON! I put the phone down.  Checked again.  Then promptly did an excited little jig!

What I gain from sharing, means so much.  It gives my creativity a breathing space.  I love my Mum is doing the challenge as well.  I love that you can click on the hash tag #FMSphotoaday and be transported to a world wide portal of over sharers.

 I will continue to peg socks out at the line, thinking about whether it's fish or steak for tea.  I will continue to brush my teeth and wonder if Emily should get a bike for her birthday or when we move.  I will wait for the kettle to boil and wonder how I could have dealt with that situation better.  I will wait for Emily to put her socks on and wonder what is around the corner for us. I will fold towels and wonder, what Loz needs in life. I will write unedited chapters in my head.  Share a moment on Instagram.  Laugh at myself on facebook.  Send a picture message to my husband.

Because conversations flow, outside the structure of words.

Because a picture, can tell a thousand of them.