A juggling act

The life of a single parent...Is it juggling or balancing? or simply hanging in there and rolling with all of it? We have had a spectacularly busy week. Once I folded the pile of laundry today I simply had to retreat down the street to my bestie's place for a cuppa. Putting them away and tackling the rest of it seemed too hard!
The cat has become nocturnal and prefers waking me up by walking on my face in the night. The dog had a flea which sent me into a tailspin of revoltingness (this is a word). The chooks are still behaving like arseholes and gobbling all the food and producing not a single egg. The kids are beautiful, but kinda snotty and coldy, therefore grubby and making me feel like I should be disinfecting surfaces! In short: thank heaven's its Friday.
There's too much uni work on my plate at the moment, and not enough hours in each day! I'm writing an essay on a chick lit novel and a graphic novel. It's boring me but I love uni, I love uni, I love uni (repeating to myself as a chant till semester is over)
Sometimes I feel like my life is an endless to do list.. and not enough is getting done. Still juggling away!
Today's revelation: A wolf in sheep's clothing is still a wolf. And it probably has fleas.

Thirty six and never been kissed

  I'd really like to celebrate my birthday. I did not get a single kiss. When I was married I had nicer birthdays, or at least that's how I choose to remember it. After 4 years the memories are dim. Still I do remember the cheap mothers day cake with the words Happy Mothers Day being altered to Happy Day. That was extremely amusing. I now understand how significant an ordered plate cupboard is... Thanks Lew!
   I'm seriously grateful to my lovely girls who made the day start wonderfully yesterday with breakfast in bed. Gorgeous girls that they are. I'm hoping to celebrate tomorrow night by carb loading and going to bed early. Fun run Sunday morning, can't wait.
  Blogs are interesting in their expression of how words have power. Communication in this digital age is far reaching, or short reaching and can even get a whole suburb away. Welcome to my new readers!
  I really had better write some uni work... Last nights lesson was my fave so far. We got evacuated for a little while and I used 'my birthday' like the princess and the pea would and refused to get into any discussion about Eat, Pray, Love.

   Still waiting for that kiss....! Hopefully soon.

Today's revelation: Thirty six is still mid thirties, and nowhere near late thirties so my darling sister...I'm not that old! Love you Ked. xo

an episode of Jerry Springer

I had an ex-boyfriend call yesterday. A lovely guy but obviously not for me. He called to wonder why it's hard to share his space with his new partner. He wondered this out loud, I listened and hung laundry on the line. What a bizarre choice to call me for relationship advice.. Honestly!
What was nice though was laughing at his jokey way of talking to me and the way he told me I'm not allowed to get a tattoo. As if I'd do anything he said! I can truly say I miss his parents, and all that delicious food. I miss listening to french at family events where I felt paraded as the new girlfriend (not cosy) but felt vindicated by the fact that I could understand everything they were saying in french when they thought they were talking about me behind my back.
You see people at times in your life for a reason, and he made sense then. He was scary, tattooed and huge. I guess that's where I was up to then...
I've come a long way.
I described my ex-husband's latest choices and mentioned that I thought it's like the days of our lives. He disagreed and told me I'm living in an episode of Jerry Springer. Well I guess that's right except we're all sure who the father is.
Today's revelation: I spent today in a please-let-it-not-be-my-birthday-tomorrow SLUMP. And when you're in a slump, you're a grump. 

Running 'towards'

    Running is a one year old passion for me. It took three weeks to process a terrible thing I had heard and to start feeling addicted and then, well, I took off. I've flirted with running for all of my life but now I'm a convert. Many people see me out and about running and almost all ask why? The answer is so simple. It's simple to run, you just put your shoes on, leave the house and put one foot in front of the other. I love the solitude, I love my ipod, I love the time to think.
   I am not into team sports, though I'll obsessively be watching yet another Tour de France soon and complaining (again) about being alone on my couch. I exercise alone. I monitor my heart without a heart rate monitor by simply checking in with myself. It's self indulgent and it makes my clothes too big. I run fun runs and one day I'd love to be met at the end of one by my kids or a friend.  
  Today I got an early birthday present from my Dad, new running shoes. Now the guy in Athletes Foot was so incredibly good looking I honestly would have bought every shoe in the store. Something about his tattoos or his eyes or the way he spoke about performance socks just had me. He was talking about running, a language I could understand. (ok, so the guy didn't give me a second glance.. but he may have looked if I had been a decade younger... at least that's what I going to delude myself by thinking)
  I guess it feels like I'm in on the secret..... that running is cheaper than therapy and twice as effective. It makes me feel free. Thanks for the shoes papa bear!
Today's revelation: running 'towards' is far more beneficial than running 'from'.

The appeal of the man in uniform

   Ok so the day started with a quick flick around the school yard in my 'going out' clothes which felt strange and nothing like my usual running gear or ugg boots and progressed rapidly to be a day all about boys in uniforms.
   I took my gorgeous cousin to see where we swim in the river only to have to slow my car behind two policemen, they eventually moved (there really was no hurry) and this eventuated in a conversational deconstruction of the good and bad points of the police uniform. I think the stuff all round the belt is hot, my cousin does not. We both agreed something is very wrong with the way the pants seem to tuck into the boots... but realistically it doesn't matter since its not necessary to look down that far when you're driving behind them.
   We then popped into town where I was giving a running commentary on the important tourist points in Sydney (she's from out of town) So I pointed out centrepoint and then began a diatribe on the non-appeal of the corporate suited man citing several suited wankers strutting down the road. The rise of the younger metrosexual man was then discussed, with all the gel and those skinny jeans that just need a good old yank up so they don't sag at the butt region. We also agreed that burgandy coloured pants just wouldn't work on a date unless the guy also happened to have a boyfriend on the side.
   Down in the rocks we just happened to be taking a few selfy photos with the bridge in the background when who shall we stumble across but four firemen. Yes FOUR! It was kind of like the highlight of the uniform discussion as with a fireman there really is no comparison. They're just really really smokin hot. 
Todays revelation (that I actually thought of yesterday on a run): If someone consistently calls you beautiful AND makes you breakfast or even just a cup of tea... There's a very valid reason to stop the clock.