mother's love

I love my daughter like an ache.... I love her in a way that almost hurts, that is almost painful.  I watch her, see her move in the world, exploring new sensations, swimming in new knowledge... I watch her and she is at once more familiar than my own body - and at the same time totally strange, alien, unfathomable.  I cannot wrap my mind around how her perfect imperfect little self came to be in the world.  She looks at me with eyes that own me, consume me, rely on me... and I cannot understand how this miracle came to be.  How is she my child?  How did that perfect upturned nose come into existence? How was I a part of that?  Most of the time I feel like she somehow came through me.  I cannot imagine that I made something so exquisite myself - made of my cells, my blood, my wishing... Instead I feel that she entered this world through me, as though I am merely a grateful witness.  I watch her jumping in muddy puddles - full of joy, full of the experience of life - and my heart is filled with inexplicable inexpressible joy.  I need only look at her to smile and to ache a little inside.  I feel like a school girl with a crush, I have a huge lifelong crush on this little person.  I see her faults, I see her determination to be frustrating sometimes, her annoying streak of rebelliousness.  I see her messy hair, curling every which way and a bit thin for true beauty.  I see her little face - pretty not classically beautiful.  And yet to me she is everything - and utterly adorable.  I spend my days gazing at her like a fool - filling my eyes with her, needing to kiss her and cuddle her every second moment.  I miss her when she is in the next room and I love to just be near her, lay by her while she sleeps, listen to her breathe, watch her play when she doesn't realise I am watching, see her interact with life in her own special and unique way.  I see her grow and change - bittersweet because I have to let go of all the past wonders of her baby days at the same time as I am thrilled to see each new level of newness, each blossoming of her personality and mind, the birth of each new ability and understanding.  I have never seen her as part of me - she is totally and completely her own person - but I feel whole when I am holding her.  I feel honoured, privileged, in awe of her love for me.  I have to pinch myself when I realise that I am the one she turns to when she is hurt, scared, happy, unsure... sometimes the honour feels so great it threatens to burst out of my chest in bubbles of pride.  Its like a miracle gift that is a constant surprise - like winning the lottery at the point when all was lost - and each day, each moment, you have to touch the cheque again to be sure its real.  Every night I go and stand by her bed while she sleeps and just breathe in the completely mind blowing reality of her existence.  My heart feels too human to contain the wonder of it.  Her little fingers, in mine, seem like a dream - like the yummiest gooiest chocolatey-est desert in the world - like a morsel of the best tasting treat ever melting into your taste buds.... and you are filled with the pleasure and the sense of wanting to savour every precious passing moment.   I love her in a wordless, all consuming, every cell of my body kind of way.  I know that for the rest of my existence, my world will orientate around her existence.  I touch her nose, her little lips, stroke her hair or rub her back and feel those little fragile bones and the thin soft skin over them... and its like falling in love anew with each passing moment.  So perfect, so fragile, so adorable.... I cannot believe that I am lucky enough to experience this gift.  I would die for her, kill for her, lift a car for her... I would lay in the mud to make her happy, and give her my last piece of chocolate without hesitation.  I cannot imagine how any moments could be happier than being with her, and I don't long her time away from her - I long for more time with her.   I delay putting her to bed at night just so that I can spend more time just being quietly in her presence, talking, experiencing.  Imperfectly perfect, utterly loveable, completely loved... my angel daughter.  I would give her the world knowing that every moment gives me so much more in return.  The words feel way too small but all I know, with all of me, is that I love her... beyond words.

vegetarian's delight...

Basil, long beans, cucumbers, capsicums, zucchini, parsley, tomatoes, oregano, chilli, watermelon, pumpkin, bananas, lettuces, chinese greens, guava, mango, mint.... no its not a fancy new detox recipe.... its the contents of my garden ... joy joy....

on a simple life

So I came here with a number of personal goals.  I feel good about starting to tackle them, and to start making progress.
One of my life goals is to have a simple life - although even that is not entirely a simple concept.  Its partly about not being enslaved by the need for possessions and clutter.  Its partly about not inviting drama into my life.  Its partly about not filling my life with busy-ness.  Its partly about my struggle to find a sense of connectedness with others without running around endlessly engaging in other's lives and their journeys and life dramas.  Its also about eating simply, being in touch with nature and the dirt of the earth, about patience and going with the flow of the world around me instead of seeking to control it.
Growing vegies symbolises much of this.  In every different part of my life journey I have had a vegie garden at some point - and the health of it is often symbolic in its mirroring of the level of "complication" in my life.   Growing food is a simple routine, hands in the dirt, nature and growth following its own patient process.  It is  about breathing, watching, appreciating, taking a moment and being present.
I have had a half neglected vegetable garden since the time I went back to Australia, but this week it found its place in my life again, and we created its sister!  I am so excited to witness its growth...and of course I am thrilled to have my own little dirt girl so loving the new adventure...

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on aloneness

So I look back through previous posts and I see that each passing year, at some point, I write about aloneness.  In August 2011 I identified "aloneness" as my life theme.  I find this fascinating.  I sat down tonight thinking about writing a sorry-for-myself blurb about feeling so alone in the world.  I was planning to moan about the sense of family some people find in their life long friendship groups - and how alone in the world, how lacking in family, I often feel. 
Now that I see this pattern however, and as I reflect on my own self indulgent self pity, I realise that I need to start taking responsibility for the choices that I make which lead to feeling alone.  I crave closeness and yet I push it away at the same time.  I yearn for connectedness yet I find it hard to maintain consistently. 
I have the sense that as I grow older I become harder to engage with, more self contained... and it does concern me.  And as I make the life choices I am making - to work overseas, to be a single mum, to take on multiple interests and leave little physical space in my life for free socialising, to spread myself thinly amongst many connections rather than focusing on deepening a few... these choices are what leads me to the place I am in. 
I crave connectedness, but struggle to find people who are inspirational to connect with.  I crave social interaction, yet I fill my time with tasks and busy-ness.  I crave closeness yet I am surprised to admit that I am shy, and am often hobbled by my own social awkwardness and shyness. 
Is this my path?  Am I to wander alone, forming a few connections and leaving them behind?  Is my love of freedom and solitude winning out over my love of connection and closeness?  Is it possible to have both?  That is the question I would really like to answer...
I feel like I have spent my life searching for the place where I will feel at home and interconnected with those around me.  Sometimes I feel like I have found it, but so far that feeling has not lasted and eventually I end up feeling lost, like an alien, held at arms length from the rest of the world that is merrily toasting best friends and being brides maids for each other.
I make new connections easily, but I find it so hard to go past the immediate interaction to a deeper level of committed friendship.  I crave this - I want it - but I don't know how to do it.  I make mistakes and people get upset with me and it breaks my heart into smaller pieces each time. 
Perhaps one day I will wander into a corner of the world where people get me, where I am able to find the love I crave, where I feel at home and where I know that these are the people who will be there for me, and I will be there for them, no matter what.  Will I find this in familiar spaces or new horizons?  I don't know.  I will keep looking....

perfect moments

My daughter plays happily on the sand, picking up shells, frollicking, giggling... gentle waves glisten behind her, lapping softly...hammocks are suspended invitingly from laden palms around us... green fronds contrast with blue sky, pale sand, turquoise ocean and the soft greyish green rise of mountains in the distance...an acoustic couple sing hallelujah with chilling beauty... brunch is served, light, tasty, cheap, perfectly poached eggs with luscious smoked fish and hollandaise... fruit smoothies wash the salts away and coffee is refilled from pots on the table... family and new friends chatter about the countries they have lived in, the books they have read and the art they have seen... the sun warms without burning and the pool prompts thoughts of floaties and bathing costumes...sand is between my toes, my belly is full, my eyes  thrilled, my ears enchanted and my heart smiles.  These are the moments.

brrring brring

So... naively I placed an ad in the local paper for a part time nanny, with my phone number... 120 phone calls later I think :
a) unemployment may be a bit of an issue here
b) many many people do not know how to string a sentence together on the phone
c) being a mother does not make you a good nanny
d) 10:30pm and 6:45 am are stupid times to call about a job and I feel justified in hanging up on you if you do
e) not turning up, or turning up an hour late, when you are one of the lucky few who got through and got an interview is just plain rude
f) one should always always put a postal address not a phone number for job ads.
g) I will not be turning on the sound on my phone for some time... til I am sure that the coast is clear... 

and then in she walked... her smile lit the room... she is young, radiant, sweet, playful, educated and exactly the image of the nanny I imagined my daughter loving.... She trials tomorrow and I may be more nervous than she is!

lap-o-luxury

So recently we had the pleasure of a weekend at the Intercontinental Fiji... and its a b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l place.  I won't say I wasn't in awe, I won't say I didn't laze on the balcony day bed, next to the Cleopatra bathtub, drinking verve and feeling pretty decadent.  I can't say I was not impressed by sipping Mohitos at sunset while watching world class fire twirling gymnastics shows against the perfect white sand beach backdrop.  And yes, I did really enjoy the amazing all expenses included fresh seafood buffet dinner...

What I was surprised about however was how little it actually moved and shook me.  I was in paradise, there is no doubt about it...I was in a place that few dare to dream about visiting.  Because I am a local and get substantial discounts, and because I can just drive there for the weekend I can afford it... but most people could not and do not.

What I have discovered recently however is that I have become immune to luxury... I enjoy it, but I don't feel the thrilling tummy flutters of joy that used to be inspired by top-of-the-line sumptuousness... I admire the luxury but I feel, well, at home there... I used to worry about what to wear to the pool, about looking like I fit in... I used to feel like an impostor in another magic exciting world... now I look at the quality of the mini shampoos and shower heads with discernment and potter around like its my own backyard :-) 

Being an aid worker in a third world country has changed me it seems!  Fiji is, of course, not exactly your average third world country... my dilemmas here are less how to find enough malaria drugs and more which internet broadband provider has the fastest speed for the best price. 

Is this a positive change or a loss? Is it a good development to become less impressed by superficial luxury, more at home in my own skin where ever I am.... or have I become blase, jaded, unimpressed by the impressive?  What I can say is that I miss my innocent  days, my days of trying to look cool and natural while wide-eyed and awe-struck... I miss feeling like a weekend in luxury was the stuff of life long memories...  

No chance of reliving the innocence through my child however, she is already quite the paradise princess, unashamedly a resort junky :-)

happy face...

yeah thanks kid...

So the kid doesn't eat... we know that... its always been a struggle and my own expanding girth is emphasised, in my mind, by her slim lines...  its a constant struggle for me to find half way nutritious meal that will be approve to pass the lips and pat those boney hips.  Tonight was perhaps a new low as I proudly presented her with the evening's efforts to hear :
"oh mummy, my dinner!" in a delighted voice... and then my hopes were crushed...
"Can you please put it in the bin!"

Great... yeah... Sigh....

Thankfully she did actually eat a little of it...

being a good enough mother

So this morning I read this on the thinking mom's blog and it hit a nice spot for me...  Its nice to know that my chant of "teaching resilience, teaching resilience" has sound theoretical basis... I am not the perfect parent I thought I would be.  My kid cries, tantrums, has to deal with me "failing" to meet her every wish.  I am not the perfect parent in many ways - I am not organic, I let her have sugar, I let her watch DVD's and I am not always consistent - sometimes I just do what is easiest.  Sometimes I let her eat hot chips twice a day because its easier than battling over food she won't eat.

I can only trust that in the end - she is a very head strong and capable child, and she will make her own decisions regardless of what I do.  I am a good enough mother... and thats all I can do at this point as I continue to model to her that its ok to follow your dreams and be imperfect along the way.

In a nut-shell and in Winnicott's own words:

A mother is neither good nor bad nor the product of illusion, but is a separate and independent entity: The good-enough mother .. starts off with an almost complete adaptation to her infant's needs, and as time proceeds she adapts less and less completely, gradually, according to the infant's growing ability to deal with her failure. Her failure to adapt to every need of the child helps them adapt to external realities.

The failure Winnicott refers to is not specific to bad things that mothers do that damage their children, but instead, the perception of the child as the child grows and develops that Mom is no longer able to "fix" everything or make it all better. No parent can ever meet every single need of a child from the child's point of view. If this were true, the toddler temper tantrum would not exist. Think about those states of mind kids get into with the dramatic mood swings and crazy demands. No way in freaking hell that those whims should be catered to by a parent, hence the concept of a parent's "failure."

life dreams

How should I feel when achieving a life dream?  Excited, thrilled, justly rewarded for hard work?
How do I feel?  Like a fraud, overwhelmed, unprepared...
On so many levels I am still living as though life is the thing that will happen to me when I am grown up...and I have to keep reminding myself that it doesn't get a lot more grown up than this.
I can't keep making excuses, its time to suck the lemon.
Suck the dream and make it real.
So we think we become.
Be careful what you wish for because you may have to make it a reality.

CEO
Me....
Whose crazy idea was that??

its pneumonia he said...

She has pneumonia, he said, she needs to be admitted to hospital.  Tears in my eyes in an instant but I blink them away and smile at her... she has a crackle in her lung, he says.  Do you want me to call the xray technician in now?  Its an extra charge on a Sunday... part of me wants to cry "yes - we need to do all we can, right now" and the rest of me stays calm.  No, we will come tomorrow for an xray, we are going home tonight.  She is lethargic, coughing constantly, but ok.  She is brave, a trooper, a star, when he sticks a penicillin needle in her bottom... "Ow mummy, that really really hurt" she says, and a piece of my heart is grated off...
We go home, she vomits all over the couch.  My head is racing with fears.  She rests ok and the penicillin seems to be helping. 
In some ways I am guiltily relieved to have something other than work to focus on, a priority that trumps all the deadlines. 
We go to have an xray the next morning and its not pneumonia, its bronchitis.
Another grey hair has however, settled into place forever.
Parenting... alone...in a foreign land...

sometimes it pays to have a good dummy spit

The stress was mounting, my head was pounding, my heart was fearing and I felt alone and not coping... So I spat the dummy... It didn't change a lot, but I gave up pretending I was coping, and that was a great relief... and I did get reassurance of help... phew.

Sometimes its ok to be real and human and admit when you are feeling out of your depth, and ask for help... and sometimes you get it - just enough to help you keep on going...

unwanted house guests

Since our return to the tropics after hasty abandonment of home and hearth during the floods, we have been joined by some welcome imaginary friend guests... and I am afraid some very unwelcome small rodent guests.  I confess a rather unlady-like expletive passed my rather unlady-like lips when I turned on the kitchen light to investigate the sounds of a rave party that were going on in there... only to find FOUR large and healthy looking four legged, tailed friends feasting on a plastic lid.  I had seen their unmistakable evidence and am practiced at ensuring that there was nothing tastier available - but I had hoped for maybe two of the critters... and this after I had already herded one from my office into the green beyond the back door. 
So the buddhist in me had a brief attempt at resistance, which was quickly overcome by lioness mother imagining her angel's toes being nibbled in the night.
Poison was purchased and planted (I cannot bring myself to use the glue that everyone here uses).  And this morning revealed signs of consumption of the pellets... so tonight will be the teller.  I sit now on in the lounge room and the kitchen is ominously quiet.  I rejoice and of course regret at the same time.
Sorry little mice - may you have a far better rebirth...
and PHEW... EWWWW... be gone you rotten foul pooing peeing scampering disease carrying vermin!

good bye princess

So I have finally accepted that my daughter is no princess.  Not that I wanted her to be!  But somehow I guess, as a product of social conditioning, I kind of expected it... I dressed her in pink and gave her pretty things - assuming that she would like that. 
It is with a fair degree of pride and well, if I am honest just a little disappointment, that I realise she is much fonder of motorbikes than dolls... she loves trucks, cars, airplanes and helicopters... She has a lot of pink stuff that I have chosen for her - but when left to her own devices she chose the brown sponge bob square pants floaties over the pink princess versions. 
One look at the glee on her face at riding a "real" motorbike and I know I need to start preparing for sleepless nights when she turns 17  (at least I am getting good practice already!).  And the deal was sealed when I doggedly gave her a pretty pink necklace and bracelet for her birthday.  Her response when she opened it?  "I don't like THAT... where is my truck?".
At least she is really creative - we can channel ourselves into gluing and painting and drawing and work on avoiding death-traps on two wheels for a little while yet.

imaginary friends...

So we have new house guests… Charlie and Lola and Lota have come to stay… mostly Indi likes to play with Charlie, and he is very pleased with her when she does good things, like having a shower when asked, or packing up her toys… and he doesn’t mind at all when we sneak up on him when he is having a nap on mummy’s bed and jump on him.

He’s that kind of imaginary friend.

 

woosh, what was that? time passing??

So we reach the end of what felt like a really long time in Australia but has actually been a rushed, busy, exhausting, blink and you miss it trip to home shores.  Its been quite disruptive and disconcerting to be honest.  It has been long enough to feel like we have lost touch with Fiji, long enough that I feel I should have been able to achieve a lot, long enough to start feel attached to things here again, long enough that, lulled into a false sense of security, I let my guard down and let time pass unchecked.   And now we are at the end and I wonder where the time went - I have achieved less than half of the things I wanted to do here, and less than a quarter of the work I wanted to get done.  It feels like I have been running the whole time and just now I realise I have been running lost in circles.  I know I have been busy all the time, certainly I don't feel at all relaxed.  And yet I look back and cannot for the life of me work out what I did all the time.
Frustrating!

Back in the motherland

So we ran away... we ran away from water and no power and stress and potential illness and the general chaos of it all.  We got caught up in the hype of fleeing tourists and we booked urgent flights. We escaped to parental sanctuary... working internet, nice meals, hot water, sunshine and child care.   So we find ourselves suddenly and surprisingly in the motherland.  We had planned a brief one week trip home that would have been a whirl of socialising, but now have a three week span at home and while the little angel is enjoying the luxury of grandma on tap, I am instead spending my time feeling guilty about not being at work, and working as much as I can from here.  Of course I am seeing friends as well, but we haven't been away long enough to make that feel really special, more a pleasant surprise.
And I miss my home.. I miss our little home, our newly growing friendships, our little plants and the routines we were just settling in to.  I feel dislocated here - everything is very familiar and yet not comforting.  It doesn't feel like "home"... it feels like the place we used to live.
So I work ... I work on gathering donations to freight over to flood devastated families, I work on planning and supporting the teams who are doing the real work.... I feel connected when I am working...
The time is flying and yet it feels strangely bubble-like...
I feel like I am already slipping into what I now think of as my "developing country persona".  I like myself in developing countries.  I am different, I am more real, I care less about my appearance, my hair, what people think of me.  I care more about people, real experiences, personal and mental development, quality use of time, observing and listening rather than talking, experiencing rather than owning, and fighting for what I believe in rather than living numb.  I like myself more in this persona but it also makes me feel disconnected from other people, from my "home" culture.  This persona is more about aloneness, about going my own way, about living my path rather than sharing my journey.
I find myself feeling single for the first time in a very long time - with sadness and relief.  I tell myself that all I need to do is follow my path and everything will be ok - because this is how I truly feel... and I know that I am on my path for the first time in a long time - and it feels good.  Yet at the same time I am slightly concerned for myself as I trudge further into my 40th year of life - single, solo, alone.  Am I too focused on my own journey to allow myself to experience my own family, partnership, togetherness?  By taking this path am I sentencing myself to being a lonely spinster mother?  Will I start to live through and smother my child?  Will I be that interesting but eccentric old lady whose child has grown and gone out to live her own life and who now has lots of interesting stories but no-one to listen to them?  Will I regret these choices as an old lonely lady who had lots of love to give but never quite found a way to give it to a life lover?  Will I become bitter, uncompromising, set in my ways, impossible to be in a relationship with?  Will I continue to chose to live in places and ways that make relationships almost certainly not an option?
These are the questions that bubble under the surface as I sit the lounge room of this very pleasant "old home" of mine... I could have stayed here and chosen a much simpler easier life... and yet as I sit here now I know .... I am doing exactly what I need to be doing, and this is not where I need to be.
I have my fingers crossed that somehow my path takes me to a place where I can have the best of both worlds.

52 reasons why you shouldn’t date an aid worker...

the world is full of water

so we are surrounded by water... falling endlessly, I wonder how the sky can hold such an amount and continue to drop it relentlessly.  Thankfully we are some of the lucky ones and our home is not submerged, we are only without power.  But we are more than lucky, we are privileged and wealthy, and we can escape to the local hotel and their generator and avoid the suffering reality of all around us.  While many have lost their homes, livelihoods and cherished few possessions, again, we bemoan the minor inconveniences of cold showers and kids who want to watch DVD's and don't understand why the On button doesn't work.  We have food, we have money and we are dry.  Blessed are we and may we stay this way!

the moods of an angel...

dark days indeed

So today the christian right wing achieved political power in my home state. I feel so incredibly sick and sad as I watch the progressive world I thought I lived in be over taken by forces of hate masquerading as religion.  I thought that as we evolved as a culture we would develop into a more aware, more accepting, less judgemental, more kind species.   I thought it was there was a law of inexorable growth of wisdom.  But I was wrong.  I look around the world and I see humanity going backwards at a rate of knots.  I see hard won freedoms being taken away, I see acceptance withdrawn, I see people embracing hate and turning away from equality.  It distresses me greatly, makes me feel powerless, makes me want to search for a pocket where I can be protected and yet it also makes me want to fight. 
The worst part is that it is making me so angry - and I don't want to become like them... I don't want to be infected by hate... and yet to sit here and take it - to be told that I am an abomination, that my beautiful child is an abomination, abused by me for being created by me - it makes me sick in my stomach and I want to scream and shout at them... but I won't let them make me like them... I won't allow their hate to infect me - that is the only control I can hold on to in these dark days indeed.
In the country I live in at the moment people keep inviting me to come to their churches.  I politely decline... "Its not for me" I politely respond.  What I want to say it something more along the lines of :
"No, I will not come to your church.  I will not sit in a room and smile and play nice with people who believe that I am an abomination - people who would self-righteously condemn my beautiful child to eternity in hell for the perceived sins of her mother.  I will not sit with people who believe that my act of creating that perfect miracle child was an act of abuse of she who I love and protect with my life.  I will not put myself in a room with people who worship a book which is filled with hatred and judgement and down-right weird-ass-shit.  I will not accept that you can disregard the parts of that book which you find inconvenient as you cut your hair, eat your prawns and do your gardening on a Sunday afternoon, but that you will hold onto a line which condemns my family and I to a life of being treated as though we are less than human.  I will not accept the lies you tell when you say that God loves all his children, when you say you live by his words, but you add your own subtext (except the gay ones).  
When your church stands up for not just the equal rights of all, but the equal value of all in the world - regardless of gender, age, race, sexuality, ability or any other defining factor other than the goodness of their hearts and the kindness of their actions, then I would consider coming to one of your services.  When your church respects me I may learn to respect it.  You let me know when that happens and invite me then.  Until then I would like you to look me in the face and tell me that I am evil, that your church is right and I am wrong... you tell me to my face that I am going to burn in the fires of hell for eternity for practicing love, compassion, openness and acceptance of everyone - including my lover.  Look me in the face and tell me I should embrace a church which practices hate, perpetuates fear and promotes judgementalism.  Look me in the face and tell me I am wrong"
Thats what I want to say....

Now I know what I am worth...

Humbling child quote for today...

As she zips up her little suitcase and heads for the door she says...

"Bye mummy, I am going to the airport to get the airplane... Bye-bye and thanks for getting the money mummy"..

letting go, letting suffer

so yes, I am somewhat protective of my angel... I am a single parent, and I am her world.  Whilst she has a higher level of verbal ability than many teenagers, I keep reminding myself that she is only 2.  That she is three in a couple of weeks is something I am yet to come to terms with, but in the meantime, I keep telling myself that she is only little and this whole moving countries business is a lot for a little person to deal with.  I wrap my life around her and my perception of her needs in an effort to cushion her, to protect her from anything except joy... As a single parent now living in a foreign country with little support and a demanding full time job, that approach is proving tricky.  Plagued by guilt if she so much as whimpers, I have convinced myself that, having dragged her away from home and security, its my job now to make it as wonderful an experience as I can and ensure that she does not suffer at all for my decision.
This is not working so well for me.
At the same time as she is undoubtably my own personal world - outside our door there is a big world that also needs some attention.  Yesterday a good friend called and gave me a pep talk and I appreciate it.  She reminded me that my angel has a really good life over all... compared to the vast majority of children in the world she is truly blessed.   She can have no doubt that she is deeply loved, she is abundantly cared for, nurtured in all possible ways, and provided with an endless supply of stimulating entertainment.  She rarely has to complain because she almost always is provided with pleasurable experiences.
So in the context of that - its ok for me to disappoint her sometimes.  Sometimes she wants to stay home and play and I need to go to work.  Its ok for her to be upset and annoyed - thats life afterall.  I am often upset and annoyed that I have to go to work instead of relaxing at home - but I have learned that in life, we don't always get what we want, and rewards require sacrifice.  This is what I need to teach her also.  I don't need to feel guilty for letting her down and not meeting her immediate desires.   When I drop her at day care and walk away hearing her cry behind me  I am not being a cruel abandoning mum, I am giving her an opportunity to learn independence.  When I teach her that she is not my only priority I am helping her understand that the world does not revolve around her.  When I push her into new challenging situations I am building her resilience, her strength, and her courage.
Its ok for me to stop entirely protecting her from discomfort.  I need to refocus - moving away from keeping her "happy" all  the time... and towards keeping her healthy and safe, even if she disagrees with my decisions and voices her discontent at times.
In my job now I am doing really important meaningful work.  She does not understand this, but in time she will.  My work requires me to travel, to be available for longer hours than in past roles, to balance my home and work life with more care and less emotive prioritising.  Indi is going to have to cope with this or I may as well resign myself to a life of nurturing her at the cost of my own goals in life, and probably producing a fragile, inflexible, tyrannical child who expects to be at the center of the world around her.
So I convince myself to be brave, to face my guilt head on, to prioritise the big picture, and to deal with it - just as I want her to learn to do.

what we think we become...

What we think we become... I have been repeating those words to myself when I feel overwhelmed and start to slide into the spiral of negative thinking that leads me into the "I can't do this" place.  I am following my dream and I know I am in the right place... I do know that in my guts... and I knew it would be hard work and that I would have to really push myself to achieve my potential.  That is one of the reason I really wanted to do this adventure.  And so I am not surprised that it is hard... that I am finding myself struggling... I am hampered by several things...I hate going to bed early and my angel is waking with the sun at 5:30am - so I am constantly tired.  When I am tired by normally poor short term memory becomes a liability.  And thirdly - I am really much more interested in playing with my child and doing enjoyable things than in working.  This has not always been the case for me - before having a child I was very committed and really enjoyed working hard.  Now not so much... I am also used to working 3 days a week and so jumping up to a full time position is reminding me how much I love weekends and evenings to myself ie not doing the work I need to do to really get on top of this new challenge and stop treading water and bluffing my way through.
As we think we become... I need to start shaping my attitude and approach by setting my intention clearly, and using my thoughts to motivate instead of undermine...
Phew.
Tomorrow...

the lows and the highs...

So today I was tired... I was hot... The novelty of this CEO business is wearing off to reveal a lot of really hard work that I have to actually do... I'm in a foreign country without any support or help... and today the child really started to bug me... she threw tantrums in the shops, she hid from me in the supermarket, she demanded treats, she ran into people with her mini shopping cart, she grabbed things from the shelves and refused to put them back, she refused to get in her car seat, she argued about everrrrryyyyttthhhing... and yes, mummy got cranky... picture me standing in the supermarket in a country famed for deep christian values and for loving children, gripping a recalcitrant wrist and fuming "Jesus Christ Child, you are driving me mad!"  I don't think it went down well...

But then this evening as I was putting her to bed I was so tired that I lay down with her for a while... and she was deeply concerned... "Mummy, are you tired?" and started stroking my face gently... and then she threw her arms around me and nuzzled in and exclaimed "Mummy, I love you!... You are my best friend"... and went on to repeat that, interspersed with more cuddles and gentle strokes, about a dozen times... What a treat to end the day with - better than chocolate!

My little angel heading off to the swimming pool... where did my baby disappear to?
So it seems that I, once again, underestimated this incredible child.  I thought that uprooting her from all she had ever known, sticking all our stuff on a plane, unloading her in a strange house, in a strange country, sending her to a strange new school and surrounding her with unfamiliar faces and languages and lifestyles...well I thought that might just cause her some concern.
It seems I was wrong.  Not only have her legs grown, longer and browner, so too has her mind.  Rather than retreating into regression or rebellion, my angel has blossomed... she has lapped up the stimulation and matured into a ridiculously sensible, capable and even more charming child.
She has coped with cherished grandma leaving with hardly a murmur, she understands that she had to go home on the airplane to look after papa.  She has taken ownership of her room and leads people by the hand to see her new furnishings.  People are surprised when she knows the names of all her colours - little do they know the complexity she shows behind the scenes.
The examples are numerous but one I recall today...
I have wanted a nanny - being protective under-estimating mum I anticipated a challenge leaving her for the first time with a stranger - especially one who looked different and spoke differently.
So I explained that we were going to meet some ladies who would come and play with her while mummy did some work... I simply said she should tell me if she would like to play with them.   I'm not foolish enough to assume I could make a decision like this!
She met the first one... engaged with her immediately, tested out her painting skills and then took her hand and walked with her to buy an ice cream.  She approved.
Then it was time to meet the second one the next day.  She refused to get dressed.
"I don't want to put my pants on"
Why?  I asked...
"Because I am feeling nervous"  (how does a 2 year old know what nervous means??)
"Why are you nervous?  I asked... "Is it about the lady coming"
"Yes... because I think that I just want to play with O"  (the first lady)...
Ah ....
So clearly the choice was made... she dutifully spent an hour educating the second contender on the methods of bird feeding and play dough squeezing... but her heart wasn't in it.
I think it helped that contender 1 is named after a certain favoured cartoon piggy.
And no, she is not called Peppa, thankfully, or I think I would be facing the world's youngest self-emancipation and adoption motion.

our new home