inspiring women

So on Friday night I had my first dinner party in Fiji this time... impromptu, it was supposed to be a work meeting with a woman who is doing some consultancy work relevant to our work.  What it became was an awe-inspiring, challenging and exciting meal with three incredible women and a rich flow of conversation and inspiration.  My guests were three women who all work for different clusters within the UN... women who have worked all over the world on gender related projects - violence against women and children programs.  I served food and received a sense of perspective, a sense of where I might be heading.  I cannot imagine being someone who spends three years in Libya recording women's war abuse stories, but I can imagine being a consultant and working on bigger picture projects.  I want to stay connected to the real roots of the community and to what makes a real difference, but I want my career to move towards working on a national and international scale.  What I need to do is to focus on finding my niche area - my passion focus... I am thinking that perhaps my heart lies in child protection work and I am going to start making moves towards this.  I say "I think" because there are many other areas that move my passions as well, but I think that it is time that I chose one.  Child protection feels like something more tangible than "gender" and more achievable than "mental health reform".  Child safety is personal to me, and something I have had a lot of experience in.  It cuts across all sectors, and all sections of the welfare sector.
So this is exciting!  A sense of direction!
:-)
Rhianon

scared

We live alone, in a house that has no other houses close by... I love our little home, but I am growing increasingly nervous.  I hear sounds at night and I am afraid.  I turn all the inside lights off and the outside lights on and I pace silently around the house with the police number on speed dial.  I don't like living like this.  I realise that this is part of why I stay up so late at night - I feel safer when I am awake in case something happens.  I have a precious fragile child here and I need to protect her.  I pace the house holding piece of pipe, god knows what I would do with it.  I love our home, our vegie garden, our chicken house... but at night I am afraid and I don't like it.

cheerful trike...

Guess who has a big girl trike?  She is doing really well at learning to steer...but still needs some encouragement to actually break a sweat of her own by putting some muscle into the peddles :-)  After a rough day of police reports and confronting thieves and letting go of missing jewellery and feeling a bit down over-all...a walk to the local shop for dinner stuff resulted in a lovely new set of wine glasses for mummy, and a trike for the little one.  And now mummy feels much better :-)

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...

.

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!