A couple of days ago I finally plucked up the courage to do something. Something that I now feel is important to this whole ‘moving on’ thing that we’re supposed to do. I picked out a few names- ok, quite a lot of names- and asked them to help me. Help me go back to the weeks following Dan’s death.

Why?! Why would you do that? Why bring it all back?

I think it will help me find peace. It will fill in the gaps for me. There are so.Many.Gaps. I was so busy, I have no real memory of things. A close friend mentioned the wake that we had for Dan. More of a traditional type celebration rather than the huge celebration we shared with the city and the world a few days prior. It was still a full house, but private. For the people that were in my circle.

Now I’ve been reminded of it, I remember it was a truly wonderful evening. I got insanely drunk and threw my drink all over my friends lovely white couch. Oopsies! We enjoyed memories. We cried, we laughed. We had a catering company that provided british food. The room was full of laughter. Full of those that really mattered. I have lovely memories and snippets of the evening now so often appear.

The thing that made me sad was that I had to be reminded of it. Reminded of this wonderful occasion. Something so perfect. Something that brought me so much joy and laughter. Why did I not remember this? It should have been engraved in my memory. One of those things I could look back on and smile. That’s when I realised that I needed help. Help to bring everything together. What else had I forgotten? All my days moulded into one and I was stuck. My timeline wasn’t complete. I also wanted other people’s viewpoint on things. How they managed to deal with things. How they saw me. How they saw the boys. How they saw everything being shaped around them. I’m sure it would have put a strain on these people and I was basically stuck in my own little bubble. Almost selfishly none the wiser.Their perception was different to mine and, who knows, maybe it would help me remember things I had forgotten.

Taking a deep breath I typed away. I deleted it numerous times. I had contemplated asking everyone for so long. This could go one way or another. What if they didn’t want to? What if they simply said no? What would I do then? What if they said yes then I read it and I didn’t like what I read? So many things to think about. So many more than I realised.

I set up and email account so it could be more private. As of yet, I still haven’t logged on. I will. Just not yet.

Cx

I am not tidy.

whew! That felt good! I feel like Oprah!

I am not a tidy person. Actually, that’s not quite true. I’m semi tidy. I don’t sit there in weeks worth of rubbish, but not neat and tidy. My house isn’t one of those that has a place for everything and everything in it’s place. It is lived in. NO, lived in doesn’t mean absolute mess. There are bits and bobs on the living room table. The odd cup that has been there since the night before. A bottle of water. A piece of paper, a book. General bits..Stuff. The rug has little bits of grass or lint on it or wood from the cat’s scratching the edge of the table (GRRR) and I don’t feel compelled to vacuum it up straight away. The ironing is done but never quite gets from the pile back to the drawers where it belongs before going back into the washing pile.

Right now, my home is being renovated.  There’s dust everywhere. Two bathrooms and a former garage being made into a kitchen. I have a downstairs toilet and the current kitchen sink to use for everything else. Quite simply  it’s a mess  and it’s starting to get to me.

I wish I could be like Monica Gellar. She would never do that. She thrives on these tasks that I find mundane. The things that I avoid as long as I possibly could. Love the whole idea of cleaning and seeing my hard work come to fruition with a beautiful sparkling home. Something I can say that I did myself. Nah, I want that sparkling home but I’m not all that bothered if I’m not the one that made it happen. In fact. I’d rather it not be me. Then I can tell people how amazing they are and get their business recognised.

My mum and gran will not be happy with that last paragraph. They know that I am a little bit of a tramp but they still want me to at least try.  Which I do. Just not enough I suppose.

Having two boys is a never ending battle where you constantly walk around in circles picking wrappers off the floor, clothes stuffed in a corner, socks all balled up in the laundry basket. It’s not like they have never been asked- and eventually told- to pick up after themselves. To put their clothes into the laundry basket. To put their dirty dishes in the sink. I admit, with the clothing thing, I’m not the best role model. That is my primary downfall. Everything else though, I’m set on getting them to at least try and remember to do on their own.

This then, raises another bone of contention amongst people. Should you get your children to do chores? SHould you expect them to do those kind of things that you weren’t necessarily expected to do when you were younger? I had a situation when I asked the boys to bring down their dirty clothes. I knew there was a pair of pants Gabe wanted to wear the next day. He didn’t bring them down after asking him no less than 3 times.. the next day he was mad and he had to wear something he didn’t like. Simple right? Should I have done it myself because I’m his mum or was I right? There’s no real right answer. It’s all on your personal preference.

There is very little that my boys do, so sometimes getting a little help without them letting out blood curdling screams is appreciated. I also think it helps them when they get older…

On the other side of things, the boys have actually come to me requesting a chore list and a behaviour chart as they realise what this can mean. Do as you’re asked. Life is easier. No shouting, screaming, and instant removal of electronics. Get through the lost-you’re golden.

Infact. Maybe I should have my own list. Might help me keep on track…. 😉

Cx