Take a moment

via Blackbird

Taking a moment was one of the cornerstones to me regaining control over my depression and anxiety.

Stopping.

Seeing the moment.

Even if it is just recognising the sun is shining. Or how blue the sky is. Or how the sun feels on my skin, or the wind in my hair or the rain on my face.

Recognising it for what it was: beautiful, funny, everyday, exhilerating, depressing, angry, worrying.

It doesn’t matter.

It’s just a moment.

Today, the last day of 2010, I had so many moments:

– the first shock of water on my feet at the lake

– watching schools of fish swim around us

– seeing a MASSIVE crab scuttle along the sandy bed, bury itself, reappear, go at one of the guys antagonising it, scuttle in amongst the rocks

– watching a woman take umbridge at the guys trying to catch the crab, assuming the moral high-ground even though she was there with her bloody dog

– watching my boys (without them realising) in the water

– discovering a sea dragon, seeing everyone’s wonder

– seeing the little boys still after hours of mania as the fireworks burst above us over Sydney Harbour

Take a moment.

Happy New Year everyone.

May 2011 be everything and more.

Grace in Small Things: Part 4 in 365*

  1. Felix has taken to lying down in bed with Jasper at night time to tell him stories that he’s made up. Now if that doesn’t warm the cold hard heart of a parent what will? Of course the stories involve dragons and a lot of poo and many people dying but Jasper adores it and how it makes my spirit soar.
  2. Supportive family. My gall bladder operation is tomorrow and everyone seems to be taking it far more seriously than I am. Ignoring it, much? Anyway, we had a family gathering on Sunday and I was talking to my MIL about it and she had her calendar in front of her when I noticed that for the next week and a half she’s put down helping me every day. I’d put one of those smiley emoticons in here now if they didn’t just shit me to tears.
  3. Glorious winter weather. Seriously, the last month has been day after day of the most remarkable cloudless blue skies that just yell Sydney to me. Days in the high teens, early 20s and just a crystal clean feel to them that make you get outdoors. It’s seen us over at the beach more often than not and me realising that next year I’m probably going to have to get the boys wetsuits, such is their joy of swimming any time of the year.
* because it’s been a while.

Grace in Small Things: Part 3 of 365

Friendship

For K who has been my best friend since 1986.

1. I remember seeing her when she came to our school in Year 6 (1984) – she was tall and brown and loud and funny and smart and had a bevy of girls around her from what seemed like day 1. I was fairly awestruck as here was I, a year in and still no firm friends, framed for stealing PE gear the year before and what seemed like daily torment from the cool girls about what I was eating (salada crackers w/ vegemite for the record). It took another two years for me to pluck up the courage to talk to her, primarily because we ended up in the same German class and found immense humour in pushing each other’s thighs which glamourously hung over the edge of our chairs when wearing our delightful blood-red PE tunics.

2. She had more siblings than I could imagine and their house was loud and fun (when I was there … I never witnessed the throwing the knife at her brother’s head incident). I remember having dinner there and it seeming so weird there was a Dad at the table. I used to hang out at her place a lot because my place was pretty stressful and I just loved the energy of a house full of a big family . They were all – still are – towers in terms of height and volume. Her father’s laugh used to make me laugh which in turn made the whole family laugh and so it would go on. I adored her mum for her seemingly quiet resilience to the day to day running of a house full of teenagers. When I had dinner there it was always chops and salad and quite frankly, chops had never ever tasted so good. I loved going to her family’s farm where she nicknamed me Dim Farmer. It has stuck all these years later so as Chef and I daly in the idea of moving to the country and ‘doing something’ on the land I can only think our business name will be Dim Farming.

3. She could swim and I could run.

4. We have a joy of food – we used to ring each other after school to compare just how much we had binged on the microsecond our feet had crossed the threshold. We both have struggled with body image for ever and are always there for each other when battling the various associated demons.

5. In the 20+ years we’ve known each other the only fight we’ve ever had was when she tried to stop me from embarking on (my one and only) one night stand. All those years of teenage hideousness, the stress of exams, and all the rest and that is the only fight we’ve ever had. How cool is that.

Grace in Small Things: Part 2 of 365

1. The ocean breeze on blazing hot summer days
2. That my 18-month-old wonder will still take a 2hr+ sleep during the day
3. Our sandpit, shaded and cool in the mornings for hours of summer fun for Jasper
4. Washing drying on the line, blowing gently in the breeze
5. Unexpected opportunities, no matter how terrifying

Grace in Small Things: Part 1 of 365

There are lots of things in my life that I am grateful for, feel blessed to have or want to shout from the rooftops. So I’m going to embark on Schmutzie’s Grace in Small Things project. I certainly won’t be blogging them every day, this is me after all. But I am intent on completely 365 posts in this vein.

So without further fanfare, I give you Part 1.

1. A husband with a sense of humour.

2. The possibility of new shoes. I am definitely getting new black boots this winter.

3. Good and true friends.

4. Chokitos.

5. The smell as rain just begins to fall.