It’s been a while. I can’t remember the last time I sat down to try and write a blog post. I’ve churned out a few little updates on my Instagram over the months (@colourfulkind) and I’ve loved writing my bi-monthly columns for the local paper (The Wokingham Paper). But my actual blog, where it all begun, has once again been largely neglected.
And with good reason.
2019 has been rather a game changer for me. It’s been pretty amazing.
I started a new job in 2018, a part-time-but-sort-of-feels-like-full-time-five-days-a-week job. And things haven’t been the same since. I’ve enjoyed earning money, and loved calling myself a “Working Mummy”. But it’s been very tiring, balancing running around an office with looking after Maia, and a year in, I can’t say I’ve found my rhythm yet. I’m just a very tired human, which I hear is the norm.
As for the job itself, I won’t go into too much detail other than to say it’s in office admin. There is a great deal of paper involved. I must have handled thousands of reams of the stuff by now. I spend much of my time standing by a photocopier, dreaming about all the things I look forward to doing more of, like writing or painting or performing. It’s highly monotonous, and some days overwhelming, but it’s a means to an end, and I know why I’m there. (Plus I tend to listen to music or podcasts as I’m carrying out basic monkey tasks like going to buy milk or re-stocking the stationary cupboard, which helps my uninspired brain get through.) I also like talking to people, listening to their stories.
When I’m working alone for a while and finding it particularly mind-numbing, I try and remember my Mother’s words: “You love to perform, think of that building as a theatre, play your part, do what you need to do then leave and forget about it…”. Easier said than done but I often find myself putting on a bit of an act without intending to. I seem to have created a sort of alter-ego-work-persona just to get through the day. I’ll have a conversation with someone and come out sounding far chirpier than I feel on the inside and think “WHO WAS THAT?!” as I leave the room.
It’s been a giant learning curve, this fitting-into-and-surviving-in-a-busy-work-environment business. One for another blog post.
On the less-sunshiney-days, when the music and podcasts and amusing conversations aren’t enough, and I just feel like throwing my beloved stapler at another human (I wouldn’t be the first, I’m sure it’s been done, and they’re chunky those things)…I try and remember the word: PERSPECTIVE.
Remembering how lucky I am, how much I have to be grateful for, often helps quiet the “What are you still doing here?!” thoughts.
Dreaming about bigger things helps.
My column in the local paper helps.
Remembering that anything is possible helps.
And then there is the knowledge that I will be moving out soon, which helps beyond belief. My 2019 is proof that anything is possible.
Having previously blogged about being a Single Mother (see this post right here from 2017) or (this one from 2015), it feels rather surreal to be able to sit here and write about the fact Maia and I will be moving in with my boyfriend soon.
Again, I won’t go into detail, it’s likely to come out all soppy and no one likes that. So I’ll try and keep this part short. We’re still in awe that in this cruel and unforgiving world, our paths somehow crossed and we found each other. We remind each other this often. And how if we’d have done anything differently, we’d have never met. The Sliding Doors notion. Yes it’s all circumstances and coincidence, but my inner child is whispering “it was magic”.
And there’s your soppy.
I will no doubt write another post on what it’s been like having someone to parent Maia with, because there’s so much I want to say.
It still doesn’t quite feel real sometimes. Even if it’s only been on weekends and holidays, having your two best friends with you, getting along like they’ve known each other for years is truly the most heart warming and life affirming experience. I feel like I’m part of something truly sacred. Something irreplaceable.
We’ll be sat having breakfast together on a Saturday morning, joking around or trying to persuade Maia to finish her cereal and I just feel like the luckiest woman in the world. As if some Fairy Godmother clicked her fingers and suddenly I have this beautiful, wonderful six year old daughter and this hilarious, just-as-weird-and-ridiculous-as-me, gorgeous man who I get to call my boyfriend. I don’t quite know how I got here, or how I got so lucky with my humans. I just know they make me very happy, I feel very loved and I’m eternally grateful.
The moving-in-together part is fast approaching. It seems to have come along very quickly, and again, doesn’t feel real yet. I’ve lived with my parents all my life, (bar my short lived University experiences) so this is BIG for me. For everyone involved. Maia’s grown up with my parents, so this will be a huge adjustment for her, not seeing them every day. Thankfully we’re only moving to another part of town, so can drive over in less than ten minutes. I will miss them both. As well as Grandma’s cooking, it’s the conversations I’ll miss. The late night chats in the kitchen with Dad and the times I crawl into bed with Mum just to ask her something. More than anything, I’ll miss seeing Maia having a blast with them. I’ll miss seeing how she lights them both up. (This all sounds rather dramatic given they are literally just down the road, or a phone call away. Plus I will most likely be going over frequently at the beginning to gather more of my belongings. And Maia will no doubt sleep over at the weekend. There’s just no getting rid of us.)
Then I think of the 1001 things I have to look forward to. A space I get to call my own. Rooms to decorate and organise however we like. (Something I have been longing for for years). A garden to do as much or as little as we wish with. Bookshelves, full of OUR books. I am most excited to organise the following: books, photos, and art work. Maia’s room will be an interior design adventure, with requests such as “A rainbow Mummy!” and “CAN YOU DRAW ME, MY FACE, ON THE WALL” coming my way. Then there are the Bocks People. Those of you that are familiar with The Bocks Family will know they’re not exactly compact. I’ve managed to convince her that a total of five Bocks people accompanying us to the new house should be sufficient at the beginning. But then I feel cruel separating them. (*See now even I’ve developed an emotional attachment to this pile of BOXES).
Most importantly, it’ll be the three of us, together, under one roof. I’m both excited and nervous for the change, but I mostly just can’t wait to live with my two favourite people. No more organising when we’re going to see each other. No more only having meals together at the weekends. More US time. More time as a family. My family.