Archive for May, 2012

Wanted: A Circuit Breaker

May 30, 2012

This morning I finally figured out what is going on when the three boys gang up on me and I end up mute and paralysed by rage and frustration: they have joined forces and formed a sort of electronic power circuit and I am either trapped in the middle of it or am futilely trying to break into it and there is JUST NO POINT because it is UNBREAKABLE. The times when this seems to happen most often are in the morning when they NEED TO GO TO SCHOOL, or at bed time, when they NEED TO GO TO BED. These two spikey parts of the day are when their neurons or magnetic energy or… something is emitting in a high voltage or wave and when they reach that point where they all connect it’s as though there’s a harmony with their energy and the three of them become an indestructible force – like a mega super villain from a cartoon. The Impossible Unstoppable Three Headed Boy. Coming to a town near you. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I know I am.

Hello Mojo

May 18, 2012

I’m back. Backedy back. Out of the fog, re-wired and re-engineered. I was in grave danger of spiraling into a miserable pathetic vortex of self-pity and absorption and just as I lost maybe my legs I was able to clamber out. New and improved. Shiny even.

Well, happier anyway.

I hate whingers. I have been one and I’m not proud of it. Life is good. Life is better than good; it is friggin awesome. Late afternoon autumn sunshine. Clean dry washing warming on the line. Easy after school pickups with happy exuberant children. Thumbing our noses at strict bedtime rules and eating chocolate pudding at 9pm on a Wednesday night. Running whilst listening to this and this. Feeling inspired. Taking back the reins.

Loosening up. Lightening up. Shaking it off.

Diving to the bottom of the ocean

May 4, 2012

This week marked a critical stage in my personalised social experiment that is “Can a hitherto employed person with intensely analytic humanist feminist leanings quit work to look after three boys full time?”

The test subject in the experiment cracked and it appears that much of the inner circuitry has lost primary function and requires immediate attention.

In other words, this week I awoke at the bottom of the ocean having sunk gradually – almost imperceptibly and unconsciously – down. Years of sinking, I’m not sure how many – 2? 5? 7? My dear darling boat began taking water and instead of attending to and fixing the holes I just kept bucketing out the invading sea. Losing air. Losing sight. Losing self. This is what has happened to a hitherto employed person with intensely analytic humanist feminist leanings who quit work to look after three boys full time. At this stage of the experiment at least. I can tweak some variables. Make some adjustments. Fix some holes. Swim for the surface.

The way from here is up.