Family – The Honest Woman's Guide to Growing Up.

Waiting for the day when an embrace is no longer a threat to one’s health.

Life. I have said it before, you just don’t know what it’s going to throw at you. At the moment it is throwing a lot at me, my family, my friends, my community, the rest of the world. The Corona Virus, that is what it has decided to throw at us. Corona, a name once really only associated with a beer which one imbibed with a wedge of lime on a hot summer’s day. Now, an isidious virus affecting the world, reminding us that we as humans are really quite a fragile species at the mercy of what life throws at us.

Week one has finally come to an end of lock down in New Zealand. Our borders have been closed to all but citizens and permanent residents, and ‘working from home’ has become the new working norm (that is if you are lucky enough to still have work, which for some will more than likely be a thing of the past in the near future). Flour has become as rare as hens’ teeth as baking becomes the new going out. Life as we knew it a week ago has come to a screeching halt, and it is hard to imagine how it will ever get back to what it once was.

Numbers of those infected with the virus in New Zealand have reached around the 700 mark so far, with one death, may she rest in peace. We are told that this will increase but hopefully with the stringent measures in place, this will eventually plateau and fall. So we stay in, we stay local. We are lucky, we live near a beautiful surf beach and some amazing bush walks. But we cannot surf and we cannot fish. This is a big blow to the husband and kids who are either fishing or surf crazy, or both. The 10 year old is fishing mad, and along with his Dad had visions of spending their time on the boat bringing home dinner. But no, fishing is off the cards as there is too much of a risk of them needing to be rescued. Likewise, the teenagers had ideas of endless surfing, but that too could prove dangerous to those who would have to treat them if they get hurt. Fair enough they said (through gritted teeth), we won’t do that then.

So what do you do if you can’t surf, body surf, fish, or do anything that may cause you to be rescued/treated etc… Well in this household we have slowly found our rhythm of life, but it must be said that it did take a day or three. The husband found his stride on day two when he decided, “fuck it”, the hair has to go, so trusted the 14 year old daughter to shave his hair off. I had been talking to a local at the gate (a good four metres apart) when he got it into his head that he would get rid of it. By the time I had gone inside, the hair was gone, every single bit of it. The 14 year old then decided that she had a newly discovered talent as a hairdresser so proceeded to give her younger brother a new style. Hmmm, he’s happy with his bowl cut, I’m still making up my mind (maybe it’s the chunks at the back which have yet to sway me on the positives of this cut). Walking has become a once and sometimes twice daily event which isn’t too far from the norm for me. The husband is getting in the stride (excuse the pun) of it and we have done a few epic walks this past week-up hills, along beaches, through forests. I have been privileged to see Kokopu, Tomtits, Popokotea, Kaka, to name a few of our precious native birds up close. It is like these birds are reveling in the lack of human activity with the dearth of visitors to the area.

The negatives of the lockdown were apparent pretty early on though. The day that it was announced that the nation would be going into lockdown, was the day that my long overdue appointment for a cut and colour was cancelled, effective immediately. Shite. The much needed cut would have to wait, and the colour, yikes. The regrowth was pretty obvious as it was, what the heck is it going to look like when this is all over? I’m thinking I’ll need to adopt a dalmation or ten as I am going to be looking like Cruella de Vil by the end of it. But, I will get over it, and if this lockdown means we get this thing under control then so be it, what’s a bit of regrowth.

There have been many times when I have wondered how we will get through the days where it really does feel like ground hog day. The teenagers have coped remarkably well, and I guess devices and social media have been a major part in keeping them in contact with their peers, and as an extension, sane. For me, who is usually home alone during the day, I have had to adjust to having people around the place all of the time. The first couple of days were a test of my patience levels, dealing with the more than usual mess, and constant noise and activity. But now, it just seems normal, and it is easy enough for me to take myself off to the bedroom to write or read, or down to the paddock to meditate. I am missing my yoga classes though; doing yoga by myself without the guidance of my Yoga teacher just isn’t as good, but she assures me that she is planning some online classes very soon, thank God! But the main thing has been that we have spent some quality time together as a family, time which has felt so rare with the busyness of life. This has forced us to stop and renew those connections.

This whole experience, which has felt surreal at times, is only at the beginning, but it has given those of us who are not on the front-line the time to think and regroup. It has reminded us that those around us are precious and we pray that this will be over soon without too much more loss of life. I for one, feel for those who have been affected by this pandemic, for those who have lost loved ones to it. I cannot begin to understand what they are going through right now, and I hope that my loved ones manage to avoid infection. I worry for my parents, my family, my friends. This is a defining moment in history, not a particularly pleasant one, but one all the same. I hope that when it is all over and life has settled down, that we will come out of this ok. That we come out as better humans than when we went into this. I hope that we reach out to those who have lost loved ones and embrace them, remind them that we are here for them. And how much sweeter that embrace will be when it is no longer a threat to our health. Keep safe.

The Night Before Christmas

Well it’s Christmas eve night and I am sitting watching the usual Die Hard rerun on TV, waiting for the ten year old to go asleep so we can make it look like Santa has indeed been, left presents, a stocking, eaten the mince pie and skulled the whiskey. He is so excited and it makes me wonder at the innocence of childhood when the belief in a fat man in a red suit who cruises around the world on a sleigh pulled by reindeer, breaking into houses and distributing presents to children is so unshakeable (well, unshakeable until some enlightened school chum decides to spill the beans on Santa’s true identity). This is probably the last year that we have that magic of Christmas that comes with children believing in Santa. Sitting in front of the tv, any magic which may have rubbed off onto me from my son soon vanishes when every single advert on tv is a reminder that people have not spent enough money in the retail sector already and that the Boxing day sales are just around the corner, ready for people to spend more money on shite they do not need. I am overwhelmed with how bombarded I am with the same big box retailers trying to get even more money out of people who have probably spent way too much money already.

I realise that this all sounds very cynical but I can’t help feeling that Christmas has well and truly been hijacked by the retail sector. When I was a child I remember Christmas being that magic time when the world came to a halt for a couple of days and people spent time with family (which could be a bit fraught at times). It was the main focus. Yes the exchanging of gifts was a major theme, but Christmas had a meaning, whether it was a religious one or one where family came first. Perhaps this is an over simplistic view but it certainly wasn’t the over the top, vulgar consumerism it has now become. New Zealand retail has had a bumper of a season this year in terms of money spent during the festive season. The frenzied shopping seems to be worse than previous years, and when I say frenzied I am not over exaggerating. Last week I sat in the car waiting for my daughter to come out of some shop and I watched as people rushed out with their cheap plastic crap which they would then go home and wrap and give to people who have no need for such crap (and probably no want if the truth be known). It was interesting to watch people rush from one shop to another, buying new plates for the one day that Great Aunt Bess would be gracing them with her presence, probably never to be used again because new ones would obviously have to be bought the next year just as they had been the previous year. I watched as road rage kicked in because someone dithered a bit too long in the car park and sent some man into a rage that made me want to suggest he shout himself to some anger management classes for Christmas.

Christmas, it is supposed to be a time of joy but it seems to be bring out the worst in many. And how many people actually celebrate it as a religious event or a celebration of the winter/summer solstice? I mean that is after all what this day is supposed to be about. Instead it has become about how much money can be squeezed out of people. It is about how much food can increase in price so that those who are already struggling to put food on the table, have even less buying power because someone (whether it is the grower or the big retailer) deems it ok to make even more money from already vulnerable people. Regardless of the economics, morally it is not right. Christmas has become for many a burden that they probably wish never existed, such is the pressure which we are bombarded with from September onwards.

Christmas is so far from what it is meant to be about that it should be renamed. Consumerism day perhaps? Yes, I am sounding like a humbug but this year has worn me out and my festive spirit is wavering. I feel guilty for humming away to a Christmas carol when I know of people who are missing loved ones this year, people who are sick, some who won’t see next Christmas, those who didn’t make this one. How can I feel happy when others are grieving, hurting, suffering? All I know is that tomorrow I will awake to my ten year old being beside himself when he sees what Santa has given him, that will make my heart lift. Tomorrow I get to spend the day with my family, and while presents are not the main focus, there will be a few. I will spend the day hoping that next year I get to spend Christmas with them, and the year after, and the year after that and so on. Regardless of the cynicism I feel towards Christmas I know that I will cherish the excitement of the ten year old and the company of the teenagers. I will eat way too much, and probably drink more than I should. I am lucky to have a husband who has volunteered to make dessert, and my Dad will come out for awhile.

So happy Christmas everyone, cherish those who you are spending it with, and those who you aren’t able to be with. Don’t stress if you have forgotten the mustard or the cream, just enjoy the day for what it is. And to those who are missing loved ones, I am thinking of you. Kia kaha. Take care, see you all in the new year (when the Easter eggs will be put on sale!).

Growing Up or Growing Old

I celebrated my 48th birthday last month. I woke up on the morning of my birthday closer to 50 than 45, no longer in my mid forties, now my late forties and hurtling towards 50. Eeek, shouldn’t it worry me that I am now definitely in the middle age bracket? Possibly. But it doesn’t really. It makes me think that I am incredibly lucky to reach this age, and I hope like hell that 50 comes and goes and I can double that age in time to come. Gosh, reading over that makes me sound extremely grounded, and I guess that in a way I am. You see, after a minor health scare at the end of last year I came to the conclusion that life really is precious, and it is a privilege to grow older. My health scare came about as a result of a mammogram. What I thought would be a routine check up, maybe a bit of discomfort, turned into a return visit for a biopsy and a three week agony as I awaited my results (right smack bang in the middle of Christmas when everything closes for the break). Luckily, I got the all clear but the waiting gave me time to reflect on life. Yes that sounds cliched, death is staring you in the face so you evaluate life. But it’s what I did. It made me realise that sitting around moaning about life and what was not going right was not getting me anywhere. It was time to take the bull by the horns and live life the way I wanted, time was not going to wait for me. I didn’t feel scared or worried, I saw no point in going into too much emotional turmoil when the chances were that it would be all ok-which of course it was. So I spent my New Year’s eve celebrating getting this far in life and I decided I would continue to celebrate my continued success of reaching another birthday.

Of course, getting the all clear made it all seem a little less frantic but living shouldn’t be as a result of a poor medical prognosis. So, I was all guns blazing, I decided I was going to be like those inspirational quotes, like those articles you read in magazines where people give up their jobs, sell their houses and follow their dreams. Hang on a minute, stop the press. I had forgotten one rather major factor which potentially was going to put a spanner in the works-my family. I couldn’t just up sticks and go and live on a deserted island and live off mangoes and coconuts if the whim manifested in that way, I had a husband with an actual job, children with exams to take and school to attend, bills to pay, and chooks. Upping sticks and avoiding responsibility was not going to work for me. Who it works for I am not sure. Young, single, no kids or responsibilities me thinks-me in my twenties come to think about it. That time of my life is well and truly over so a rethink was in order, how could I live my life in the best possible way without uprooting my entire family. I realised that life was already pretty much perfect, I had my health, my family, a safe and comfortable place to live, food, blah, blah, blah. You get the drift. I was already living my life, and I realised that I was lucky to get to that stage in life, so I didn’t need to change much, I just needed to get the job I really wanted and learn to be grateful for the good life I already had.

So nearly a year later, have I lived up to my musings of then? For the most part yes, I am still grateful every day that I wake up. Grateful that I am still walking the planet, grateful for my children, grateful for my husband, and the list goes on. Yes my face is showing the signs of getting older, and my body, well it certainly isn’t as it was 20 years ago. But I am here, I am writing, my life for the most part is uncomplicated, long may it continue. Growing up is damn good, or maybe that should read growing older. Whatever it should be, I am doing it . So bring on the rest of my life because I can’t wait!

Everyone Has a Purpose.

I handed my thesis in a week ago. Forty thousands words of blood, sweat and tears. The feeling of relief which I thought I would feel took awhile to arrive, possibly due to the fact that I was scrabbling to edit it and format it in time. It wasn’t until 8pm on the day that it was due to be submitted that I finally pressed the submit button, and sat down for a very large whiskey. I was so knackered, my eyes were stinging from the hours of staring at a screen, and my brain felt like it was going to explode from all of the scrutiny involved in editing. I must say that there were days in the last month when I just wanted to chuck it all in and have nothing more to do with it. But I persevered and managed to hand in something-hopefully it is good enough, only time will tell.

**One of the most enjoyable and deserved whiskeys I have ever had!**

The next day was strange. I had always thought I would feel euphoric from being finished, and I certainly felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, but I also felt something else. The next morning after everyone had left for work and school and I had the place to myself, I just kind of wandered around the house, not knowing what to do. I mean there is plenty to be done, especially outside around the property, but I was so used to turning on the laptop and staring at it for most of the day that I just didn’t know how to reset my routine. And then there was the feeling that I no longer had a purpose in life. I had lived and breathed my thesis for the past thirteen months, everything else had been put to the side (apart from some daily exercise) in the pursuit of academic achievement. I missed social events and family occasions because it totally consumed me, every hour of my day was taken up by research and writing. And I was lucky, I finished work halfway through my thesis, I don’t know how anyone can work and do their thesis at the same time; my brain can only deal with one major thing at a time. I was really glad when that first day was over, it was like having a hangover; the night before was a shit load of fun but the consequences made it seem like it wasn’t worth it.

Luckily, since then I have managed to get into a bit of rhythm in regard to my day’s activities, and I feel a little more like I do have a purpose. My daughter thinks its great that I am no longer studying because there is loads of baking and home cooking in the house-I am sure the novelty of baking will wear off soon, and the youngest son thinks its great that I will have more time to spend with him-especially fishing! I now have the fun part of trying to decide where to from here-the PhD is out of the question for now, my family would kill me if I even contemplated it at the moment. I am once again at a crossroads, trying to figure out what now, what do I want to do when I grow up? I have some good ideas but I just need to work out if they are feasible, and if they will help pay the bills. And I have to work out how to go about executing them. I am back to the same old conundrum of what is out there in the universe for me, what is my purpose, and why the heck haven’t I worked this out before now? And I have to keep pushing away the self-doubt which plagues me a great deal of the time.

I know that it is early days, it is only a week and a half since I finished my study, and I am starting to learn the art of patience. I am revelling in the fact that I can read a book for the fun of it, not to hunt for facts for my thesis but just because it is a mindless piece of literature which is enjoyable to read. I can go places, like watching the youngest son play rugby, without the nagging feeling that I should be home writing and researching. Or to an exercise class or yoga session (new interest-will keep that for another blog) without feeling guilty about taking precious time from my study. I can get back in my neglected garden and bring it back to life, and as for my oven -well that will get a long overdue clean next week.

I worried on that first post-study day that I would have no purpose in my life. But I forgot that I have taken on a volunteer role at the local surf lifesaving club, and I forgot that I want to try and organise some rugby posts for my son’s school. I also forgot that I have purpose with my three children, each one with their own needs (even the teenage son who seems so independent). And my husband, I will have time to go and play a game of golf with him -nah, only kidding about the golf, that really is a bridge too far! But some quality time just going for a run with him has been nice. I have purpose, not what I had when I was studying but something different and just as important. I will keep baking and trying my hardest to be a domestic goddess. And when the time is right, I will find where the next part of my journey takes me, there is no rush after all.