Word has it being busy is not a requirement.

I love words. I memorize and collect them. Still have to admit I'm not very good at using them, but I keep them, kind of savour their meaning and look for a perfect opportunity to really let the word carry the importance of my statement. I never really have that moment. Just like Meg Ryan in the movie "You Got Mail" from 1998, I come up with beautiful and eloquent replies which could have made even Shakespeare weep with admiration. Not untill both the moment and the person has long left, though. Doesn't do me much good then.

Being this balmy and corky has, of course, a lot of downsides to it. I read and hear use of language which make me burst into unintentional giggles, totally inappropriate, of course, and yet unintentional puns created by poor knowledge of language is very funny. Most likely this is a personality flaw created over time and related to occupational hazard.
I am the one likely to put up additional signs to emphasize what is wrong in a statement (This is
also how I often correct papers my students hand in... seems like as if they then get it, rather than me talking about lack of prepositions.)

Unfortunate sentences and use of the wrong word is one thing, we all still get what is meant, even though most people say expresso, instead of espresso.

Words changes meaning too. I still like to think that being gay is to be merry and cheerful. However, sometime back it turned into a sexual preference... and therefor also, I am sorry to say, an invective. There are numerous examples like that. Not only do I risk making a total laugh out of myself as soon as I open my mouth, it is also very confusing.
I have no idea why totally good and solid words with long linguistic traditions should suddenly be something totally different. I don't even understand how that can happen? How do you "plant" and reprogram a word in an entire same-language-speakers' community... let alone world? How is it done?

What whizard performed the consulting? and who acted as communications advisor?
Very cleverly done! I don't like what you did, but it was a master plan executed to perfection.

There is maybe one other thing I dislike even more about today's common use of language: I don't like how some words are being used to make yourself look better and your conduct more presentable.

An example on that is the word "busy". It is such a worn out word, and it's lost its meaning. I mean; I some times claim I'm in a stress mess, but I don't regard that to be the same thing as being busy. Not anymore. Not after I discovered how some people abuse the term.

To be busy has become an excuse which allows you to get away from anything:
I can't talk, I am busy.
I can't do that now, I'm busy.
I don't have time, I'm busy.
I'm sorry, I can't come, I'm busy.
And you know what? We respect being busy so much, that any further explanation is neither asked about, nor offered.

Some people are so busy it makes my head spin. It must be so hard to recognize  one's own thoughts when all the doings and appointments clash into a cacophony of busyness. There is a LOT of activity, but in all honesty there really isn't all that much action. Or...?

It makes me feel stressed out, and some times I struggle and feel guilty because of the way I feel and think about other people. You know, those unwelcome comments which whisper to you inside your head: "Why does she say on the phone she is busy? We are drinking coffee, for crying out loud!" And then it strikes me: she is busy because she spends her time on me.  At the end of the day there is a chance she does hurry, it's just that she doesn't rush.

To make days add up it's almost a demand to be on top and keep an overview of what happens to, and around, each and every family member. And then comes the feeling of being overworked and overwhelmed by the demands at work and at home.
You may be able to work a few 60-hour weeks, but eventually you will be so burnt out that you lose the ability to be creative and innovative. Without that you have no joy or pleasure left in what you are doing.

Holding on by my fingernails through every day, trying to work crazy hours, not only being good at what I do, but strife for great and amazing. Then at home I try to be supermom baking homebaked cakes and cupcakes and cookies, staying up untill 2am to get bakeries done and planning tomorrow and grading papers.

And yet; even though I work as if though my hair is on fire I feel like nothing gets done, ever. The feeling of being unproductive and inadequate is always present.
I have bought into the culture of busy.

We hustle and buffle and create a lot of drama and draw attention to everything we have to do.
And yes, we all claim to be busy with conviction, but do we really do it all?

Yes, I do struggle making days and things add up. But in all honesty: When I listen to what I'm saying and see what I actually do; things are not quite as it seems.

I am not remotely as busy as people think.
Half of it all just doesn't get done. If noone is crying, noone or nothing smells bad, and we are both full and warm enough, I am at peace with the state of things.

It's about time I stop bragging about how busy I am.
The busyness we claim to be a victim of isn't really being busy, most times it is an expression to illustrate the list of options we choose from.
Is it fair to say that we suffer more from having to prioritize, than actually do a whole lot on limited time?

I choose not to be busy. It doesn't mean I don't have a lot to do all the time: for example kids to drop off, bring, help, listen to... but I, as an adult, can choose not to define that as being busy: I can define it as being present.


Yeaah.... I fell for this one. And yes, I spent at least 40 seconds.

Imperfect perfect life.

I work full time outside our home. Even though we have children, a fairly sized house in constant need of cleaning and garden there was never any doubt or discussion whether I should stay at home or not.

My husband got a full time job outside our home, but he`s on a rotation: two weeks away from home working offshore, and then four weeks at home... during those four weeks he does a bit of work for his employer, but he also does quite a bit of charity work, he jogs and he reads quite a bit. All these activities take about a full working day, every day. (A full working day in Norway is usually 8 hours, minus 1/2 hour lunchbreak. A full week is 37 1/2 hours.)

We are far from poor, but we need two incomes to make the wheels go round the way we want them to.

We have plans for how to help and spoil our boys, help them start their adult life and get a comfortable life. We have a number of donations we choose to keep up. And we live! In short: we have a good life.

We actually like working as well. It is fun, challenging and fullfilling to use your abilities to something else than clean and tidy up what will be unclean and scattered about within an hour.

It is lovely to see other adults. I so cherish the small breaks when I hear conversations about other things than what happens in the wonderful world of young boys. I don`t even have to participate! Just to hear somebody mention a world chrisis and give their opinion on fashion is like balm to my soul. It gives me the extra boost I need to both smile and be patient and listen to my little miracles.

We do a LOT of LAUNDRY. We spend a lot of time helping and listening to homework. We wash a lot of dishes. We clean the house and vacuum and take the garbage out. We explain and listen and say "no" so many times every day it is hard to remember how to say "yes". We attend partents` meetings and attend community voluntary work and buy groceries. The amount of milk and bread we bring into our house every week is unbelievable.

We try to leave the house tidy when we go to bed, and yet, in the morning, the house looks like a miniature tornado hit sometime during the night while I was asleep.

There is an awful lot to do in our house every day. Most of it noone will ever notice or even think must be a time consuming chore.

We cope, but it is an ongoing race against what people would say if they happen to drop by.

I think it`s fair to say we are happy, but our greatest fear is that some aunt, or other relative, should drop by. Someone likely to tell our mothers about the true state of our house.

Women`s liberation has been good to us women. Depending on your goals in life, Norway is probably one of the best countries in the world to live in.
But... having the opportunity to fullfill yourself has a price.
There is no possible way to be excellent and on the alert on everything.

I am me, an individual with independent views, opinions, feelings, needs and abilities. In addition I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a collegue, a careerwoman, a housewife, a friend, a pet owner, a wannabe writer and I do not wish to eliminate any of those roles. I want to hold them all; more than that: I need them to be and feel like a full person. If I had not known them all, they would not have already been a part of who I am, and I could be a full person without them... I don`t know, but I need to be everything I am.

Still I am fully aware that to have these demands to my life creates a big gap between what is desired and what is possible to achieve.
Leaving the house to do a full time job outside our home leaves a full time job at home open.
Many of my friends depend to a large extent on grandparents. I don`t have that luxury, but I understand that is a huge load off the heavy weight of being present.
Grandparents can be wonderful listeners and audience and guides to the many mysteries in life.

I try to do well on all arenas, but I know I don`t succeed much. My biggest worry is I will reach the point of regret some time in the future, of what I don`t know, but there is a good chance I will have them.
It is perhaps particularly hard to agree I can`t have a perfect home the way I want it to be perfect. There is no way I can do what my mother used to do when she was younger and an at home mom. I made a choice and got myself a career and a family. I just never thought getting it would make me feel like such a failure.

My comfort, though, is that we are perfectly happy there, even though it is far from perfect. Or perhaps living a happy life embracing all of our perfect imperfections (like the song says) is a far better way to put it.

Planning on a good life....?

Not long ago I was planning, hypothetically of course…ehm…, on living my dream. The dream was triggered by an acquaintance who bought himself an apartment in Spain. He told tales of very high standard, all facilities, gym, swimmingpool, security services, maintenance, tennis court, golfing, beach near by…, with enthusiasm. There was no ending to the luxury and comfort available. “And the best part,” he said, “it cost next to nothing!”

I went online, curious about what he was talking about. I scrolled through the real estate for sale ads, but I didn’t find anything which had that instant appeal to me. There was no luxury apartment I thought would be somewhere worth visiting on a regular basis. Nor would I want to live in any of them. I mean; If you buy a vacation home you really should enjoy the stay, even if you rent it out to others for long periods of time.

What I did find, however, was a run down vineyard, just outside a picturesque village. The stock looked dead, or at best very neglected, as did the house. But to me it looked like heaven.

Here we live in a development where the houses are really close to one another, and the yards are very small. I long for space; room for air and light and my own sounds.

I have dreamt of a place like that for a few years, but now it became more of a attainable reality. The place was there; just like I had imagined. It looked like the perfect place for me to live and wind down; A haven where my hectic lifestyle should change into lazy days of effervescent creativity.

I made plans: a local family who knew how to grow grapes should be hired and live in the renovated house. The stock would be brought back to luscious crops. I would build a functional villa for my family. I made sketches of annexes for the visitors, and they would be many and frequent.

I planned on a bench around the olive tree in the yard, with blue, checkered, cushy seating. In the branches I would hang empty jam jars with candles, there would be a table… at least 5 meters long with room for at least 20 people eating 3 hours long meals.

All in all I pictured this abandoned farm full of life, laughter and abundance. Lemon-, olive-, apricot trees, herbs, vegetables, fruit, berries, fresh bread and cheese…

I could almost feel the mild evening breeze and smell the scent of a good life. I would learn how to write, sew, paint, take wonderful pictures and just live.

The thought of going to bed in the evening, knowing what the weather would be like the next day, was alone a thought which was very appealing to me.

All geared up and excited I told my significant other (my husband) about it all, painted the picture in every positive adjective I could think of… and his response?

He looked at me for a few seconds, and I could tell I wouldn’t like what he had to say… “Hun”, he said, “I don’t even mow the lawn…”

40 bags in 40 days 2014

A year ago I joined the 40 bags in 40 days challenge. 40 bags in 40 days is a challenge which takes place during lent (the catholic period of fasting). To me this was a blessing in disguise. For many years I had this problem of collecting too much stuff around in my house. Read more here: https://www.facebook.com/events/637377976316873/?fref=ts 

I grew up with parents born before WW2. My mother always told me to take care of things, especially clothes, in case of rougher times. Actually, as a teen I used to redesign and alter clothes a lot and they turned out pretty cool. But that was the 80s, which was really convenient, because I couldn’t really afford buying clothes then and fashion back then allowed an individual style. At the time having access to stored, old stuff made sense.

Anyway, I learned that we do not throw away stuff, we keep it… thing is: things started piling up, too much of everything, and suddenly I looked around and discovered I never used any of it, but it took up a lot of space in my house. Space I would really like to clear away and make useful and presentable and room to breath.

I started off thinking that all the piles and boxes in my house was an impossible task to take on, when I stumbled upon this challenge I started thinking that a tiny bit is a lot more than nothing at all, so I joined. I didn’t do it the scientific way: I did not download the calendars or plans available everywhere on the net, I didn’t have a room or area scheduled each day. I just thought that I’d wing it. Everywhere was somewhere good to get started. But it was scary, I tell you.

At first it was really easy: a bag was filled in no time. Getting rid of a little bit of it all wasn’t too painful. Some days I even discarded a lot more than what I had planned. It was 5 minutes of contending passions. But as the 40 days was coming to an end it became more painful. I found things I had forgotten I even had, and I found things which I knew would never be used again, but memories overwhelmed me. It is stupid to hold on to broken etch a scetch just because my son wrote his name for the first time on it, but it is painful to get rid of.

I continued, though. Trying to be reasonable about it all, and after a while it became more of a personal cleansing. I reminded myself of the advantages I would get from it all:

-More space

-Easier to clean

-More presentable home

-Less clutter…. The list grew longer the more I thought it through.

On day 40 I started thinking I was doing something which was good for me. I could already see the results, and I was happy about it. The present became even more important to me, and the feeling of constantly to resign in frustration was replaced with the feeling of achieving something great. To me it was great anyway, and the family started to notice the changes in our house.

off to Salvation Army second hand store.

There was no reason for me to stop, just because the 40 days were over. Every day I got rid of another bag. Some days I just cleared out too small socks from my kids’ drawers, other days I finally got rid of boxes of pocket books I had read too many times.

One day I didn’t have much time to spare… less than my usual 10 minutes, so I grabbed a grocery bag and went into the bathroom. There I threw away empty shampoo bottles, expired creams, lotions and make up and I ended up filling up three bags.

I just love how good I am getting at getting rid of clutter… yes, I stopped calling it stuff or things; now I see clutter.

Today is Ash Wednesday, people from all over the western world are picking up on the challenge. To get some starting help you maybe need a schedule.

White House Black Shutters offers this one:

http://www.whitehouseblackshutters.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/dailyprogress.pdf

Or maybe you just use your calendar on your phone…

I didn’t need one last year; this year I have noted down areas to focus on each day… there is less to just shuffle into a bag now.

I noted it down on the family planner, which is in plain sight in the kitchen. The kids have become curious, so this year it will be more of a family activity. I just can’t wait until this afternoon… I am excited to get started!

A Year of Resolution

Now that the celebration of Christmas and New Year are over, I can finally exhale.

It is reasonable hefty to celebrate Christmas when I invite family, relatives and friends to compulsory dinner- and coffee gatherings. In a week you try to make up for all the social gathering we have no time to the rest of the year (even though we want to spend time together; it's not so that we avoid being together. It’s not like as if we get together in order to tell others how social we have been during the holidays), and we don’t thank no to an invitation; it is pleasant, although we could do with a day or evening of total “living on the fat of the land” on your own sofa after the hectic preparing for the holidays, to calm down.

Right now it feels good to start working again.

Christmas is the season to make a wish. We wish for all sorts of things, some want a plethora of things, while others want some better days than they usually have.
When you want something, it's usually a bit beyond one's own control, and it doesn’t always turn out great.

Now the time has come for bringing our New Year's resolutions to life. Promises we give ourselves that something is going to be different, and preferably better.

I remember one year I decided that it was time to start training. I wanted to oppose my longevity by getting in shape and tone up the decay life's wear and tear has caused my aging body. That turned out to be an incredibly costly affair. I do not think even Jennifer Aniston has ever had such expensive fitness classes.

I signed up for a membership at a gym, and stayed a member for over two years. During those two years I went twice to the gym. Each workout cost me a tidy sum of NOK 3150 , -
That, of course, I couldn’t keep up. It cost a lot more than it tasted, and it was ridiculous to stay a member just in order to say "yes, I am a member of a gym."

The lack of performance conspicuous by its absence was not good publicity for the gym, either. It was probably a win -win situation that cancelled the ongoing membership. (It was kind of sad, though, as it was the only thing going anywhere.)

My New Year's resolution used to be ambitious and sometimes high-flying, so I gave up having any. It was like everything was going to be so intense and perfectly sized. I do not know where I thought I'd find time and opportunity for them. It was so overwhelming that I delayed getting started to a day I was in better shape, which never came.

I am so lucky to be open minded, at times. I have no problem facing my own defeat and rearrange my priorities, in order to move on.
Facebook has many great groups you can join, and in one of these groups, I found the answer!  And it was so simple it was tragic.
Last Lent one of the groups started a "40 bags on 40 days" action. It was brilliant! During the 40 days of Lent  we should throw out one bag of garbage. A shopping bag is not so much, that is manageable. Even for me.
Now I moderated it a bit, I thought that since one of my greatest sorrows was that my house had depots of things I didn’t really need anymore, but that really was both nice, in good condition and useful. I decided to get rid of a bag of things or garbage every day.

So, every day I collected superfluous bits and pieces around the house in a bag. One day clothes were gathered and handed over to charity, another day it was just regular household trash. One day I went into the bathroom and thought "there must be something here that I can throw away? Something in here must be due for discarding." That day I collected three bags of trash: Empty bottles of shampoo, outdated makeup and creams which was expired (I got rid of a self-tanning cream which was out of date three years ago, and it was not even opened ).

This ongoing event was supposed to last for 40 days, but I continued doing it simply because it wasn’t time-consuming at all, and I saw the results. Now, approximately 300 days later, it has become a habit which I appreciate.
The house has never been this tidy. Depots of boxes standing around are gone, they are not likely to pile up again, and there is an infinite relief of my mind.
New Year's Resolutions...  I don’t have the self-discipline for that, but I have learned that I can keep up habits which are good for me and my surroundings. A tiny bit is infinitely more than nothing at all. Over time it becomes a lot, and eventually it becomes a big deal.

Stress-less

Last night my son's friend's mother was shocked learning I have not yet started preparing for Christmas. We were talking about this and that, and I happened to mention I have not done a lot to prepare for the holidays… not yet, anyway.

I have put out more candles than I usually have around, I have hung the star in the window, the advent candelabra is on the table and two candles have been lit (four candles and we light one more each of the four last Sundays before Christmas), my kids’ advent calendars are displayed (and almost half emptied), my kids have their miniature Christmas trees in their rooms and I have displayed a carved wooden Nativity scene I once bought in Jerusalem a hot, sunny day in July, years ago.

I have no curtains in my house, so I have not hung seasonal curtains. I have not cleaned the windows. I have done some baking, but those cookies are gone. I have not bought any presents yet, apart for the two I send by mail. I have not even ordered the pictures I am to add to the Christmas cards… which I have not yet made.

Well…. I didn’t get any further on my rambling ons about the few things I actually have gotten round to do, and everything I have not done yet: my friend got into a state of frantic flickering eyes and heavy breathing, bordering to hyperventilation. It was like as if my laid back attitude had an impact on her own doings and the state of her house.

A couple of years ago I suffered from a serious stress attack. It is not recommended: It hurts. Not only did my entire body ache, but I experienced this surreal notion of being benumbed. I have not yet totally recovered; now and again I still get this pricking sensation of shooting pain through the sole of my foot when I take a step.

Anyway; I had to make a choice, and it was an easy one to make: Slow down!

The thing I could ease up on, without feeling I neglected anyone, was the house. I don’t panic anymore, when I look around my house and see things scattered on the floor. I keep it clean, but not always tidy. When people drop by I don’t fold the towels in frantic speed to get them out of the way. I have told myself we all have laundry, and people tell me I am right. When I invite people over, I often do it on weeknights for supper. You need a loaf of bread, butter, bread spread, cold cuts, jam and a cheese. And then milk, coffee and tea to swallow it down with. Keep it simple and don’t always assume people want royal treatment. Friends don’t want to feel guilty for dropping by, or visit; they want to enjoy the company of someone who is comfortable around them.

I don’t curl up inside because there is an unwashed pot in the sink. It’s not going anywhere, I can clean it later. Besides, lighting candles hide a lot of clutter. It just isn’t as obvious anymore, because you focus on the coze, rather than scanning the room for what is out of place.

There is a vast difference between having a spotless house and to neglect the house. At the end of the day I now have a home we live, play and work in, rather than having a house on display.

Friends don’t mind, actually they like it and relax more around me, but most important: I enjoy being with friends more now, than I did before. It makes me a happier, more positive and supporting friend. I even find my friends more supporting too.

Having a week off?

Tonight I am rather upset about last week. It was initially a good week: a week off work. But having a week off, when most other people are at work has side effects.

Last week was for me a week off because we had Autumn Break. Back in the days, when I grew up, we used to call it “potato break” because it is about this time of year, the first week of October, it is time to harvest the potato fields.

Nowadays this week off is about travelling somewhere, for those who have saved a week’s vacation, or to worry about where the kids should spend the day, now that school is off and parents have to work. So, I have had a week off work, and I can’t wait to get back in action.

I had such great plans for this week. I had a long list written down:

·         Dig up and sort out the last flowerbed

·         One long walk, or mountainhike, every day

·         Clean the windows

·         Clean furniture

·         Clear out and sort the wardrobe

·         Review papers: getting ahead

·         Improve and edit tasks and exercises

·         Cook proper dinner every day

·         Write (for my own pleasure)

·         Clear out old toys

·         …. And then some

The list of things I would have loved to do, mostly because they are things you need to do to have a fairly organized home, was extensive.

Did I get any of it done? Nah, not really.

I did get the last flowerbed sorted out. Maybe I should explain why this is something I had to do: Thing is, through the last few years I have bought hundreds of flowerbulbs I never saw any sign of, after I had planted them. I couldn’t understand why, until I dug up a flowerbed to plant a plumtree. Deep down I found a lot of bulbs, which have slowly sunk into the ground. I wondered why, but a kind soul told me that soil is washed downwards into the ground, due to the land my house is built on is blasted rock.

So, what I had to do is to dig up my flowerbeds, put flowerbed fabric, and then add soil, before I plant the flowers and trees again, and new flowerbulbs (and the old ones I found). Very tedious, but I expect my garden will look stunning next spring.

Anyway, since school was out and my kids were at home I got a lot of help. Trust me: getting help doesn’t mean work is done fast. It took me several days to do something which would have taken me a few hours to do by myself.

In addition: many schoolchildren don’t go to before- and after-school care (my youngest do, but he wanted to stay at home because he knew I would be at home doing something he wanted to participate in…sigh. I can’t very well kill the initiative, can I?). The kids in the neighborhood knew I was at home, and my kids were at home, and they didn’t want to be alone at home while their own parents were at work (do you see where this is going?) so to make a long story short: I ended up having a house full of kids all week.

My kids had a lot more friends this week, than they usually have. They have a lot of friends (I feel blessed), but not the come-around-to-the-house-all-of-the-time kind of friends. The friends they have who come around are not plentiful. Just enough, and they are not moving in, so to speak.

One thing is to have playmates coming over. It is a totally different story when they show up before breakfast.

I can’t help but to be astonished by how messy some kids are when they eat. My dog had a feast which lasted for a week! And it took me quite some time to get the kitchen back in shape after each meal. Yes, we are talking breakfast, lunch and what we call dinner (we have supper in the evening). I could have chosen not to set the table and invite them all, but in my house there is no tradition for doing that. Children need to have meals, at least that is my rule and philosophy.

A lot of my time was spent on all this. One thing is to serve my own kids, to serve a house full of kids is a totally different story.

I can tell my own kids to go get a glass of milk themselves, I can’t very well say that to strange kids. One thing is to know their way around my kitchen, another thing is to have kids rummage through my cupboards.

The hikes I was planning on, came to nothing. I could have told everyone to join me, but they didn’t have shoes or clothes fit for a hike. I didn’t want to leave the house either, so the plan failed.

When you try to do something, and are constantly interrupted, continuity is broken and things just don’t get done. Not in the speed you predicted, anyway.

Maybe I am just frustrated. Mostly because I see that keeping up the house and the garden really doesn’t get up to standards. I wish for so much more than what I have time to perform. Having a week off makes me predict a week of getting up-to-date. When it doesn’t happen, I just get disappointed in myself.

Thing is; this is nothing new. I should have learned what staying at home will be like, by now. What I really should have done was to plan on spending quality time with my kids.

Totally perfectly imperfect

Sometimes I feel my entire life is an endless series of worries. It seems like everything I have, am and do brings along its (un-) rightful amount of concern, which adds to what I already got on my mind. Then I talk to some person, and during the conversation something comes up, which I have forgotten to worry about. Reading what I just wrote I scare myself when I realize how little I focus on my joys and prides. The good things in my life just tags along in my existence; my worries (mostly about things which might happen, but never actually do) chew the rag in the background of my mind.

So, in order not to drive myself insane I measure it down. I start sorting the important worries from the unimportant ones, only to discover within minutes my thoughts are drifting into pondering about how that can be possible? In my opinion every part, and all the participants involved, together makes up what I call my life. If someone or something loses priority and attention my life is changed… and in spite of a lot of things I am quite happy now.

I often worry I'm not measuring up as a mom. Even though I have all the right intentions; I fail.

I'm not feeding my kids the right foods, all the time. Too often I end up serving the easy meals. The food I know they will enjoy eating and which takes no time at all to prepare. In other words: Less vegetables than I wish. Rice or mashed potatoes mixed with frozen vegetables is an improvised solution I often turn to, even though I know there is a heated debate whether they are as good as fresh ones (of course they are not, they taste differently).

I'm yelling too much. Maybe not really yelling, ‘cause I keep my voice down, but I nag.  I know they can hear me, but I also realize they are not listening. I’m starting to believe my voice makes my words sound like a continual senseless murmur not worth paying attention to. It is just another sound in the ocean of sounds surrounding them.

I find it hard to find time to watch every soccer game my sons play. Last week my youngest played one game as well as one practice. He is still so young the parents are expected to attend their practice. My middle son had soccer practice on Sunday afternoon, match on Monday and Thursday for his own team, then played a match for the b-team on Wednesday because they were a player short. It’s just too much for me to keep up with. Even making sure the suit is clean is quite an achievement, I think. I wish I was one of those faithful soccer-moms who attended every match, drove to every away match and cheered my son along… BUT I do set aside the weekends they play in tournaments and cups.

I've hindered their own style by choosing their clothes until they were 6. Up until then I made the choices regarding their clothes and the assemble they wear. I still buy their clothes, but they dress themselves.

I have learned to ignore the patterns and colours don’t match. That was a defeat I faced when my oldest son was a baby and his father dressed him. I sulked for a while, wanting my son to look nice, but then I remembered that a father is just as much a father as I am a mom, so I swallowed the camel and comforted myself by the decision to dress the kids for special occasions myself. (Stupid thing to do, though, as now I have to lay out the outfit for the entire family every time I really want to take time to look presentable (for ones) myself.)

I've failed, it is bound to be a failure, at least for my own ego and my wish to look ok. Instead I end up blessing the fact I don’t wear much make-up (hardly any, to be honest), as I put on mascara on the way. I dismiss the sneaking, displeased thought that I WOULD have put on make-up and look good, if I only had been organized enough to start dressing an hour earlier.

Even though I have all these failures and setbacks I don’t really suffer from a total breakdown, because, you know what ... I believe we all have worries and setbacks and feel like failures. We just need to keep in mind, and believe, that our kids will survive this! Let's just love the heck out of our kids, and try again tomorrow, and LOVE the other Mamas out there knowing they feel exactly the same:

Totally imperfect!

The sound of me is....?

As a mother I constantly have these moments of feeling bad about how I think, feel and act, in some situations, with my kids. It might be because I feel I’m being unfair to them: they don’t know that even though they don’t really do something wrong or bad, they do something wrong or bad. Complicated, but still true.

I have always been one of those individuals who need alone time. Time when I can gather myself. Find myself and become at peace with me and my life before I stray too far into a state of discontent. I know myself, and I know that if I let myself do that, I turn into a shrew not pleasant to be around at all. If mum is unhappy, no one else is allowed to be happy.

I am always very present in our home, when I am at home, but never as strong as when I feel like I’m on a “warpath”. Not sure who to be displeased with, but with a strong feeling there is something or someone not quite at place.

The unfairness in this is that deep down I know that what’s not at place is me, and that it is my disability to arrange alone-time for myself which causes me problems, and my shrewish behavior.

By alone-time I mean a short time, an hour, and if I am lucky maybe even more time of continuance, when I can choose what to focus on.

Time when I don’t have to deal with laughing and playing (and the clanking that brings about), and constant talking: questions asked in search of answers and help. Friends add to the number of children running through the doors and up and down staircases, opening the fridge in search of something cool to drink. They chew, swallow, slurpe, talk, sing, play games, watch TV…

They make the dog click his claws excessively on the wooden floor, makes him growl, he also barks when he hears someone outside, or at unsuspecting passer-bys with a dog, almost causing nervous breakdowns with his harassing attack… To merely live creates sounds and noises. I can’t very well blame my kids for living, can I.

Often I miss to surround myself with my own noise and sounds; the turn of the pages of a book, the music complimenting my taste and mood, the whisker from my socks when I cross a room, the sound of breathing (especially from my dog), the soft clicking of my keyboard… all the sounds I know are there, but which drown in the sounds of life and living in my house.

One of the sounds I like the best is the sound of silence. There is something healing about listening to emptiness holding the history, the stories, the truths about forever. You sit there and listen, and you can feel the knowledge of how all the answers are in it so tense you can almost taste it.

Crisp, early Sunday mornings with a mug of coffee, sitting on my porch, is magic as well. No man or engine to break the sounds of nature reviving.

Ok, maybe a bit weird, but everything is changing. Nothing is like it used to be, and with changes sounds are added or removed from our surroundings. It’s always been like that, but silence has always been the same… I think. Maybe I am wrong, but I imagine it is so.

I wonder what is the sound of me. When people think about me, what sound do they think of defines me?

Things

Things. Such a short word, and yet it causes so much trouble.

I have been told that every family has its drama; I have never heard of (or experienced) disharmonious family matters which did not, at the end of the day, have something to do with things. Things someone at a time worked hard for and got hold of and which somebody else now wants.

When I was really young I was told by a very wise, old man, that when I grew up I should not collect or hoard things just to show off how much stuff I could gather. I should focus on owning things that meant something to me. Things I needed. Things which for some reason I felt would stand out. It is not the number of things which will show your wealth or fortune: It is their significance.

Because, you see: things bring worries. Houses i.e. must be looked after: maintenance, cleaning, upgrading… it all adds time consuming effort of thinking through, problem solving, choices on colors, shapes, quality,  prices…

I have to admit I really enjoy the esthetic beauty most things display, I admire the innovating processes and the craftsmanship behind the thing, and I understand why it is such a joy to possess a chosen item. But… I am good at not wanting a lot of displayed stuff around me and in the house.

To be dead honest: I am not a good housewife. I do not dust every week, my plants are half withered before I remember to water them, I never check if there is oil or flushing medium on the car; A car shall work: I insert and turn the key and off I go. Everything else I leave to others to do. Not having a lot of stuff makes it easier to clean the house and when I die there will nothing to fight over.

Still, In my house we have a couple of types of things which are… suppose I should be honest enough to say they are out of hand. I do not have storage rooms, you see. I had this idea that what I do not use I do not want to keep… except a few folders with my kids’ drawings, things they create and make from toiletpaperrolls at school, folders with recipes on food I will never make and clothes I will never knit or sew.

It seems like as if we have an endless amount of toys. All kinds of toys and a lot of it. They seem to float all over the place: lego in the sofa, footballs in the kitchen, table tennis bats  in the bathroom, action figures on the hallway floor. I hesitate to do much else than to pick it up and bring it back to where it is supposed to be placed and sorted into boxes with same kind of toys. (I have a lot of really clever storage bins, but for some strange reason I fill them up constantly, and they are always nearly empty.)

Cars, lego, pokemon figures, miniature animals, musical toy instruments, costumes… everything has its own box (-es). It is funny how I think my kids watch way too much TV, and yet they play with something… or at least bring toys with them, at all times.

I do not really collect, but I have a lot of hobby articles. Fabrics, jarn, buttons, zippers, pearls, stones, glue with and without glitter, all kinds of paint, canvas, drawing paper, wires, string, all kinds of pencils, felt pens… you name it: I got it. I always plan to get to use it all, you see, and then I never get the time and next time I see a stamp I picture being used on a really great looking personal greeting card I buy it and add it to the continuously growing stack of bits and pieces just laying around looking like junk. I am not proud of it as yet, but one day it will miraculously turn into dazzling arts and crafts. Maybe. It will.

Now, that I am thinking about it, I have way too much of a lot of stuff. Not items tastefully displayed to decorate the rooms, just stuff. In addition to toys and hobby articles I have shoes, laundry, stacks of books and boxes of things I at one time knew what was… like hardware accessories belonging to something I got rid of 8 years ago, but in case I didn’t get rid of it anyway I keep it… still don’t know what it is for, just keeping it in case I need it…