The Quiet Life...NOT

Just imagine....on a picturesque weekend away, strolling down the main street of town. browsing and marvelling at the price of houses compared to the city. The crisp, clean air gives clarity and the momentary question of 'could we live here' rests in conscious thought. We could be content in this calm, serene existence for the rest of our lives, right? Mmm, not quite.

Don't get me wrong, I am really glad we moved - it has been categorically the best move we've ever made (and we've made a few). However, there is a moment where the idyllic is replaced with the reality of getting on with life in a busy family. That's the stage we've have reached now.

It's been two months or so since we moved to the country. At first, the clear air and sweet smells of pasture grasses were intoxicating. I had to keep pinching myself - all those holidays where we entertained the idea of moving out of the city and we finally did it! Every drive was another exploration of this new town we call home; every discovery exciting.

This has now been replaced with school drop-offs, emergency trips back to school to deliver forgotten items, soccer training, birthday parties and the usual errands that go along with family life. While we haven't yet discovered half of this beautiful location, children still need to get to school, groceries still need to be purchased and cleaning still needs to be done (sad, but true).

Of course, a holiday location will seem amazingly serene and perfect because life is left behind while visiting. Sometimes it involves someone else cleaning the hotel room, and eating food someone else prepared and subsequently cleaned up. The holiday weekend is just about the here and now; a few belongings and a beautiful town. Have you done it? Imagined yourself in the place of your holiday destination, living a life of simplicity and serenity? Easy to do without thinking about work, school and general demands of family life. We did it - every time we left the city!

Moving to the Southern Highlands has highlighted to me that no matter where I am, life still happens. It demands attention and won't take no for an answer. For example, I am indulging myself time to spout my musings to you all, while the washing still sits in piles (well they were in piles two days ago; regretfully, now a sea of clean, crumpled clothes masking the presence of a couch underneath). The bathrooms are silently protesting, while the floors are screaming to be relieved of yesterday's crumbs. I can bury my head in the scenery and idyllic lifestyle, but it will be at the expense of a family that is cared for and can locate their uniforms when they need to (hard enough on a good day).

However, there needs to be a balance. We can equally bury ourselves in busyness (apologies to spelling aficionados, but I think the 'y' makes more sense), but there needs to be some escape, some sort of balance, to help recharge the soul and focus on the blessings in our lives, even if for a short time.

I saw a post on social media today, which is an important reflection in the chaos of life.

 "Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes...including you" (Anne Lamott).


I am realising that moving to the country doesn't give me a magic pill for a quiet life; there are still the same amount of hours in the day and the same amount of things that need to be done. How time is spent is largely by choice so it's up to me to find the balance. I can choose to do the washing, or choose to write a blog, as long as I'm ok with living with the fallout (clearly, I am). Somehow, somewhere, there needs to be a balance between the productive and the reflective.

In the quest for finding that balance (which is a constantly moving set of scales), I feel like the overriding theme that keeps coming through is how to remain content, even when life doesn't quite turn out as first thought.

I think one of the chief elements of contentedness, is gratitude. Dwelling on the 'busy' is frustrating, (I know because I do it) and sometimes I just have to take a moment, a deep breath and remember all the things I love about being here. Not naturally a trait of mine, I'm trying on optimism for size (my husband will be rejoicing).

 (Lake Alexandra, Mittagong)

Dr Caroline Leaf, a brain scientist and campaigner for positive thought, posted this yesterday on social media:

Saying "I can't change my way of thinking" is just as much of a decision as "I can change my way of thinking". The choice is yours. (Dr Caroline Leaf)

I'm thinking social media is trying to tell me something.....

In any case, I am on my second coffee (thinking about how much I love this liquid gold) and about to tackle the housework (thinking about how great it is to have a warm house in this cold climate).

Busy? Yes. Optimistic? Trying to be. Content? Absolutely.

Ten things I've learned

It's been almost two months since our big move to the country, so here are ten things I've learned about our new area (and climate!):

1. No one is in a hurry, which makes driving a calm experience.

2. Although, no one is in a hurry, which is kind of annoying when you're waiting to be served (you can take the girl out of Sydney....).

3. Hair dryers aren't just to style hair, they prevent hypothermia on cold days.

4. Having the heater on during the day isn't a luxury, it's a necessity (I can almost hear it making the noises of a cash register, cha-ching, cha-ching).

5. Woollen garments are underrated - you learn to live with scratchy because it's a whole lot better than cold.

6. Parent meetings could have you driving on an isolated country road. In the dark. In the fog. If that scares you, better get over it real quick.

7. Almost every outing involves a picturesque drive - and you never get sick of it (well, not in two months, anyway).

8. Time for ordinary errands needs to be doubled to accommodate long chats with random strangers.

9. You learn that you can survive with cold toes, just as long as your ears are warm.

10. You're not on candid camera - everyone is smiling at you because they are genuinely nice (I did wonder .....).

New Shoes

There is one way that I contradict the stereotype of my gender - I'm adverse to shoe shopping. I can't stand it. Of course, I will do it if I absolutely have to, but if there's a chance those boots of mine can be mended by the boot maker one more time, I'll do it. (Until they say it can't be done, which has regretfully happened to me more than once!)

Comfy shoes are way underrated. I would probably wear slippers or ugg boots everywhere if I could get away with it, so when I have a pair of shoes that I have worn in till they fit superbly, I don't like to part with them. Many years ago in my studying days, when money was scarce, I purchased a pair of men's boots (why pay extra to make a fashion statement?) and wore them everyday. Comfortable they were, but worn out they became and by the third trip to the boot maker, he could only look pitifully on me and shake his head. (True story.)

I didn't throw them out at first. When I was wearing in my new boots and trying to get used to the fit, I'd just put on my old boots for a moment, familiarity and comfort enveloping my feet. Then I'd remember that with a bit more time, my new boots will be the same. It kept me persevering.

I'm realising since moving to the Southern Highlands, that friendship can be a little bit the same. I have met some wonderful people since moving, and am looking forward to being part of this new community. However, I am dreadfully missing the trust and familiarity of friends that really know me, warts and all.

Which explains why, in a moment of madness, I decided to travel to my old suburb, on two separate occasions this week. People looked at me like I was wearing mis-matching shoes, wondering if I was joking or truly choosing to do it on purpose. But that was how desperately I needed to feel that comfort and belonging. To have conversations or share memories that need no explaining. To feel the trust of years in confiding our innermost thoughts and feelings. During this process, I was struck with the realisation that these long standing friends were also once new and time had allowed this wonderful bond to develop. It gave me energy and patience to continue building friendships in our new area.

Even though being back for a short time was wonderful, there was still a sense that it wasn't mine any more; no longer my inner circle. These friends will always be family to me (and hopefully I to them) but my home and my heart were elsewhere. My high excitement for the short journey back to old (sorry, I should say long standing) friends was now in competition with my tremendous anticipation of returning 'home'.

So I now face the next stage of our relocation with renewed vigour, motivated by the memory of all that my long standing friends have contributed to me. Unlike the old boots, these won't be tossed (hearing lots of sighs of relief right now!), but get to be a huge part of my journey. And I have the fortunate chance of having double what I had before.

The Whirlwind

And with that the Whirlwind had gone.

Living life with a travelling husband is taking some time in adjustment. A new sales role, in a territory that covers all of New South Wales and ACT, has taken Mr D away from the family home for longer than he has ever been before. Coupled with that, a Sydney house that needed work before advertising on the rental market and you have a family with the shadow of Mr D that occasionally appears on small backlit screens before bedtime.

Let me clarify, that this arrangement doesn't please him, in fact, I think he misses his family more than I do when I'm away (or maybe I'm just not away often enough to miss them) and always pines for the day when he can be at home and enjoy spending time with us.

So hence the aforementioned 'adjustment'. We both are treading new ground in this arrangement and having to change our ways slightly to accommodate the new normal. Rather than family time at the end of each day, all our family time has to happen during the days that Dad is home, which is mostly weekends.

Let me give you a little background on the dynamics. I'm not a control freak. Housework is there to be done if it really needs doing, and if it can wait till tomorrow then all the better. There are a million things that are mentally captivating for me than putting random things in their places (again, for the fortieth time that week) and cleaning bench tops. I don't mind cooking (baking is probably my favourite task in the kitchen) but please don't ask me to decide what to make for dinner. Again. Cheese toasties sound good, don't they?

My previous job of Office Assistant in a busy school office was the perfect excuse for procrastinating on the things that needed doing at home. I did the bare necessities, but sorting that overloaded shelf and vacuuming the blinds didn't emerge on my 'must do this weekend' list. Usually that list comprised of 'buy food, wash uniforms and tumble dry' - the last item was to avoid having to add 'ironing' to the list. I wiped over the bathroom mirror when we had trouble seeing our reflection but I confess I couldn't tell you the last time I washed the floor. To be honest, (and I'm sure I'm not alone, though I need help if I am) work was far more exciting than keeping the house.

Having said all that, my new found employment of 'Project Manager - Move House', as it says on my LinkedIn profile, has left me with no other option. This is my role now, to look after the family and keep order in our rented house; it's an amazingly huge role when done properly! And I have to say, despite a reticence in having to say to my mother that she was right, there is a great sense of satisfaction in a tidy house. I have battled my prejudice that house work is dull and should be avoided at all costs, and am getting it done with contentment in the order it leaves.

That is, until Mr D arrives home.

I've seen houses much tidier than mine, but just before he walks through the door it's pretty good. Floors vaccumed. Clean sheets, space (not ever seen at our last tiny cottage) and dust-free surfaces (also not seen before). My house is becoming a home, much to my own surprise.

It lasts for a nanosecond. Not just because of the paraphernalia that accompanies the returning traveller, but my lack of care of the house when he arrives. It becomes a much distant second...actually, maybe tenth... in line of priorities. Not only distracted myself by having the love of my love at home, the kids are also distracted from their usual jobs in the presence of 'the fun time guy' and I'm neglectful in my observance of missed duties. One of the adoring qualities of my husband, is his sense of fun and how when he's home the mood is suddenly so much lighter. There is rarely a moment passed without a joke, funny face or laughing child being thrust into the air. Housework? Pfft, who'd want to do that?

Our family dynamics have changed. No longer are there are few moments of family time each day with order in between; the days when Dad is home become a frenzy of conversation, updates, questions and laughter. The usual order of each day (meals, homework, bedtime routine) that has been put in place to manage in his absence, is tossed aside like a teenager's washing (I was going to add 'dirty', but then I realised that for teenagers, both dirty and clean end up in the same place).

Now I sit, trying to cast a blind eye on the chaos behind me, patiently waiting for attention. Trails of textas and unfinished homework, crumpled shirts needing ironing, a kitchen bench displaying evidence of the past two days' culinary enjoyment. I will get to it eventually, but for now I indulge in the memory. For as much as it pains me to constantly say goodbye to my love, we have had an amazing two days with our family together again. And, in having the best of both worlds, I know that in his absence I will have a house that will stay in order (more or less), as much as I desire.

Till the next Whirlwind.