Pinky Ba-oon

Arya is now 2.5 years old and lately her behaviour has been…difficult, and you might say that potty training is ‘in the toilet’.

We have felt like we are almost out of ideas when she wets her undies multiple times a day after being almost fully toilet trained a few months ago.  Other days she can throw a tantrum for up to 3 hours long! I mean, who even has the energy for that?

After several deep and meaningful conversations with Google, the source of all earthly wisdom and knowledge and some long conversations, we came to the conclusion that it may be a very real reaction to some big changes in our lives.  The downhill slide in toilet training started right around the time we moved house, plus I have taken on more work, but I also had an intense prac situation at the end of last year and we hardly got to spend any quality time together.  Then shortly afterwards I met Kalon *insert romantic sigh*, and I am so grateful for the time we have spent together, but it is a massive change for both Ary and myself and she no longer has 100% of my time and attention.  A happy change, and he is investing time with both of us, but it’s not the same as having your mum all to yourself.

Who knows? We may be taking a stab in the dark, but we decided that Ary and I needed to spend some dedicated time together.  Cue, mummy-daughter date!

2:30 the next afternoon rolled around and I pulled up to daycare, excited and nervous.  It truly felt like a date!  I couldn’t wait to take her out, but with a 2 year old, the potential for tantrums in public always abounds.

We had a slight delay after getting to the shops due to a very broken phone that had to get fixed, but Ary waited as patiently as a 2 year old can and then we were off!  First to Target, our fashion stop for the day where we were able to pick up 2 t-shirts for daycare for about $4 each.  BUT there were about 6 different sparkly princess tutus that were begged for and denied one by one.

Next stop was ice cream, which I had promised thinking we could try a frozen yoghurt place that I’m sure exists, but I couldn’t find.  I found solace in the fact that I at least got some pre-snack exercise walking up and down the wings of the shopping centre.  We settled on Baskin Robbins where you can get a soft serve ice cream with a flake for about $1.50 so Ary got ice cream with sprinkles and I had mint choc chip (the best one).

Then we were off to BigW and their party shop where I not-so-patiently attempted to get some customer service.  Eventually, a lovely lady came and helped us out and it turns out that you can buy a single helium balloon with a ribbon for $1.50!!!  Naturally Arya chose pink, which is not my colour, but whatever floats your boat.  She thought it was awesome until I said she had to wear it on her wrist instead of holding it in her hand (in an attempt to prevent it from floating away).

*insert tantrum here*

Thankfully, it was mild and she kind of understood in the end and was able to play with her balloon until she somehow got it off her wrist as I was picking up my newly fixed phone an hour later.  It found a new home on the ceiling of the shopping centre and we were discussing the loss of ‘pinky ba-oon’ for the rest of the evening.

With half an hour before we had to get groceries and head home I decided we had time to hit the small playground where Ary played hard and tried to claim a little car as her own from all the other kids while I watched and attempted to make sure things didn’t get violent… You never know with toddlers! (It didn’t of course!)

In the end we got to spend a couple of hours together and we didn’t do anything too crazy or exciting, but it was so good to hang out and be together.  I spent just over $10 (not including the ridiculous amount to get the phone fixed) between the both of us, which was far more affordable than going to a play centre and getting snacks.  Ary had fun though, and that was the best part.  I had considered Chipmunks or getting our nails done together, or something equally fun, but we didn’t need to do anything dramatic or expensive to connect and enjoy each other’s company.

The afternoon didn’t fix her behaviour and it didn’t fix her toilet training, but it did remind me to take dedicated time to engage with her outside of all our other activities, that was the valuable part for me.  I’m just glad that somehow in the screaming tantrums I actually heard her and I will continue to choose to spend time with Ary each week and grow together.

How could you NOT want to spend time with this cutie bum?!

 

Tweed Eduro 2018 Race Report

There have now been 1 week since I raced the Tweed Enduro, and I’m finally walking freely and feel like I might get to have children again one day.  It was probably the most challenging race I have done yet, both physically and mentally.  It shouldn’t have been, but I simply wasn’t prepared in the way I needed to be.

I was progressing nicely in my training, right up until I was a month out from race day when I got sick.  I wasn’t deathly sick, but it was a head cold that did not want to let go, and the congestion was giving me headaches, dizziness, pain, and a total lack of energy.  It dragged on too long, and when I tried training again when I though I was improving, I just got worse.  Again, I wasn’t on my death bed, but it was frustrating!  Honestly, I think that I had been training to a point that I had never pushed myself before, and it felt great to be challenged and see changes, but I wasn’t getting the recovery I needed.  I wasn’t getting enough sleep and I probably wasn’t eating in a way that supported the training well.  The consequences left me run down, sick, and seriously affected my race.  Lesson learned the hard way!

Prepping the night before.

Swim

The swim was beautiful and the water was temperate and clear.  I started in the second wave with the first timers for which I was very grateful.  The tide had only recently turned, so it didn’t feel like as much assistance to begin with, but by the end of the swim there was a real nice pull.  As per usual, I sat at the back of the pack in the swim.  The advantage of the 70.3 distance is that with the variation of swim skills and all the different waves, you’re never alone in the water, which lends a little more confidence.  I ended up finding a small pack of ladies from my wave, a group of 3 or 4, and we swam stroke for stroke for at least a kilometre.  I found it encouraging to be swimming at the same pace because I was pushing, but within what I knew I could maintain.  If I relaxed for a single stroke however, I fell behind.  It kept me honest!

Ride

It felt nice to be out on the road after so much work on the wind trainer…until I hit the potholes! I felt like a James Bond martini, all shaken up!  I was able to maintain a good speed for my heart rate for about the first 2 laps, but my heart rate monitor was being weird, so I could only catch an accurate reading every few minutes if I was lucky.  I ended up tossing it to my club supporting on the side-lines (RTC has the most amazing support!). Around the same time, I began to feel a deep pulling in my glutes on the right side.  In the few weeks prior to the race I had been doing some release work in my hips, so the pulling wasn’t a bad sign, but revealed some weakness.  I rode the next 2 laps in a decent amount of pain as it got worse, which was increasingly affecting my pace. By the last 7 kilometres I was checking my watch more and more frequently, willing myself to reach transition and occasionally standing on my pedals to release and stretch my glutes.

Handing off my blasted failing heart rate monitor–Pic by Karen Reardon

Run

I couldn’t run. Well it felt like that anyway.  It was so encouraging heading into transition on the bike and hearing my great bearded man yelling ‘Go Bek!’  Arya and Kalon were right by the entry/exit to transition as I came out on the run, so I pulled off and gave them each a sweaty kiss. The plan with my coach had been to be more conservative in the first 2 laps and increase speed in the last.  It felt like I was hardly able to maintain the target heart rate, although I managed to settle into the pace a little.  That was until my watch went flat and I had no heart rate to go by whatsoever! After kicking myself for not ensuring my watch was fully charged, I conceded that there was nothing to be done.  I had to race naked and by feel. Abominable!  That run was tough work.  Thankfully the pain in my glutes eased a little, but I felt like I had nothing left in me.  I focused on maintaining my cadence, relying on inbuilt rhythm to hit my target training cadence. The first lap sucked.  Most of the second lap sucked.  Something changed on the second lap though.  I knew I had done the distance before, and I knew I wasn’t going to quit, and that was enough to focus my thoughts.  I was bigger than this race, and I wasn’t going to let it beat me.  Those 2 thoughts propelled me to the finish line. I started to lift myself on the last lap, lengthened my stride, and slowly increased my pace.   I have never been so mentally and physically stretched at the same time, but I dug in.

Finally running to the chute!–pic by Nev Sprott

I was searching for Kalon and Ary as I ran past the team tents and I almost thought I was going to miss them entirely, but as I ran down the chute and finally crossed the line I spotted them.  They were right on the finish line, waiting for me.  It was so special to have them right there and be able to turn and give them a kiss.  I had no energy to stand after that, but that moment was a dream come true for me and worth the pain.

I ended up scraping 1 minute off my 70.3 time from Sunshine Coast and it was hard fought.  I had planned on a much greater improvement on my time, especially with such a flat course, but I am so proud of myself for mentally showing up and pushing through. I gave absolutely everything I was able to on the day, which is something I struggle to do with most of my races.  For that I am so proud of my effort.  I just need to learn from race and the preparation, and apply everything to the next race, when I blast my old times out of the water!

Official finish line pic. I made it!

Accomplish small tasks to achieve BIG goals.

I’m simultaneously super excited, and incredibly frustrated at the moment.  I’m on the edge of great things, but they are still in the development and birthing process.  There is so much on my list of goals that it is almost overwhelming and I don’t know which end of the list I should start with.  I have goals for personal, professional, and family life that are filling me with fire and ideas feel like they are stirring my soul, but my day to day life seems to be filled with chaos and frustration.  I feel like I’m doing sled pushes uphill!  I know that will pay dividends (hello glute muscles!), but it’s tough going in the meantime.

I’ve been mulling these ideas over for a a few weeks, and my normal response would be to just give up, or make great aspirations, tell everyone, and then have it last a few weeks before life was again filled with the busyness of daily humdrum that absorbs each day.  I’ve been frustrated with settling for less than what I know I am capable of being and accomplishing, so I needed an action plan for permanent change.  To do that I knew I needed to create new habits for the small stuff.  This would free up the time and attention that I need to accomplish the big stuff.  Instead of drawing up a list of habits that I knew wouldn’t stick longer than a few weeks, I decided to focus on just 2 things.  I decided that to maximise my time each day I needed to wake up at 5am each morning and to clear some of the clutter in my mind and the house I decided to make my bed each day.  This meant I would be utilising ‘extra’ hours in the day, and the 1 minute that it takes to make my bed each day makes my room look cleaner and less cluttered, and it is one step towards a clearer house.  My room can become a refuge and when nothing else in the house is clean, but I don’t have to time to deal with it, I can retreat to a clear space in my room and have the focus I need.

Then I thought, what if I can’t even stick to those 2 things long enough for them to become a habit?! So I did what I also do in training when the session seems like too much.  I break it down to bite size chunks, and tick off each little section.  Instead of a month of bed making at 5am I decided to do it for one week.  I can do that.  I mean, if I can’t make my bed for a week in a row then I’m going the wrong way about being an adult!

So here I am, writing to you, 3 days in to my little goals. So far I’ve done okay.  I’ve had to stretch out my wake-up time to 5.20, because I haven’t quite been getting to bed early enough, but I am still getting so much more done in the day.  My chores in the house are done early enough to allow for extra paid work to happen, and I’ve been early to daycare drop off every single day (which if you know me, you know that’s a BIG deal).  My bed has also been made every day, although sometimes I have forgotten until a little later on in the morning, but the great thing is that it’s encouraging me to take an extra minute or two to clear the little things that mess up my room each day.  It makes for a less stressed Bek!

Last year was a year of preparation, and I used the mantra “Discomfort is the catalyst for change” for all the tough stuff, and it really worked.  This year however, big changes are happening and the phrase, “Accomplish small tasks to achieve big goals” is starting to shape my thinking.  This year is a year of action and discovery.  I’m taking small steps at a time to action change and I know that when I look back at the end of the year, life will look nothing like where I started.

A bend in the road

I’ve spoken before about how much of a bookworm I was growing up.  One of the series I loved was the Anne of Green Gables books.  In fact, for a longer period of my life than I am willing to admit, I crushed hard on Gilbert Blythe, her childhood nemesis turned handsome doctor and husband (didn’t we all?).* I loved Anne-with-an-e’s unchecked imagination, and she often reminded me of myself with my head in the clouds and an imagination that lead to some ridiculous moments.  Over the years, there was one idea that Anne held on to that stood out to me.  She loved the unknown bends in the road, not knowing what lay ahead, but moving toward it with such hope.

“My future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don’t know what lies around the bend, but I’m going to believe that the best does.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables    

I am not like this! No, I am the person who is trying to guess the plot of every movie and figure out who dies and who survives.  My friends have patiently ignored me while I bugged them for spoilers, and in the same way, I don’t like not knowing what will happen in my life.  What I have learned over the last few years, is that my road has had many bends, and it’s rarely been fun moving through them.  It’s a stretching, aching, groaning processes, that sometimes feels like it’s hammering me into change as opposed to fine tuning, but it is always worth it.

At the moment I’m terrified (okay slightly dramatic… I’m apprehensive), because I’m staring down to a curve with some big changes.  To make it through I know I’m going to have to adjust habits that have helped define my phlegmatic self for years.  My forgetful, disorganised, she’ll-be-right nature that I have tried to curb will not get me through.  This time at least I know there are basic goals that I am working towards, for these I am pumped!  But I don’t know exactly how the final product will look both personally and for my goals, just that the process will be hard work.

I don’t shy away from hard work.  You can’t complete a 70.3 distance triathlon, or live with a toddler without expecting to sweat, and possibly swear.  In that regard I am really looking forward to the next few months of training and learning! Personal changes however,  seem to be much harder to instil.

The mantra I kept repeating to myself during the hard training sessions leading into the Sunshine Coast race is that discomfort is the catalyst for change.  Over and again I would repeat this to myself, and it’s so true.  The body is all about efficiency, it won’t change unless it is required.  I train to stress my body, and it adjust to accommodate to the new normal.  However, if I don’t increase or change the stimulus, I plateau.

I have felt for the last few months that I was in a preparation phase.  I wasn’t sure what for, but I knew I had to get ready. I really think I did prepare by applying some minimalist principles, getting rid of a lot of things, losing more weight, and spending what time I could with my girl and my family.  Now I’m entering the build.  We’re moving house into a much smaller space, and I have begun my first prac this week.  I also have really exciting things happening on the work front which I will hopefully be able to expand on soon.  But all of this combined with training and being a mum is going to be a juggle that will test me.  I’m unsure what the end result will look like, and that scares me in both a good and bad way, but I’m leaning into it.  I’m repeating the same mantra again, because to achieve (nay survive) change has to occur.  Above all though, I am excited, because like Anne, I believe that the best will be around the bend.

 

*Relationship Opening: Tall, dark and handsome doctors please apply in the comments.  Extra points if your name is Gilbert.

I Blame My Mum

I didn’t start training and competing in triathlons because I had a sudden urge to spend hours on a wind trainer.  Oh no.  My triathlon experience started with a conversation with my mum.

After I had gained around 20kgs during pregnancy (I stopped weighing toward the end) I really struggled with how my body had changed.  Despite being a bookworm growing up, I had always been active and fit and more recently, I had spent a lot of the time lifting at the gym.  Unfortunately after about 6 weeks into the pregnancy, I found that a full time job combined with morning sickness and a 3-4 hour commute left me with no energy to work out and I said hello to tummy settling carbs.  I felt like I had gone from really fit to really fat.  In an effort to combat the frustration I was feeling, I started running.  I had also splurged on a hybrid bike (I was so excited when I cycled for more than 10kms!) and had started swimming after Arya started swimming lessons.  I have a tendency (and I’m sure I’m not alone) to get excited about a new venture so I knew I had to set myself a goal or target before I fell off the bandwagon.  Cue, conversation with my mum, “Why don’t you try a triathlon? You’re already swimming, cycling, and running.” Naturally I thought she was crazy, but she quickly googled Bribie Tri and checked the distances of the Saturday afternoon first timer’s race and it actually look achievable.  I signed up then and there giving myself a whole week to prep.  After that first race I was hooked and mum has patiently been listening me talk about training and races ever since.

After a year and a half of listening to me babble, my longsuffering mum came and supported me at Sunshine Coast 70.3, easily my biggest race to date, enduring crowds and sunburns and it meant the world to me.  She said something after the race though that really caught my attention and encapsulated what I love about the sport.  It was that there were so many different people racing.  It wasn’t always the most athletic people out on the course, but all different sizes, shapes, and speeds.  I’ve been lucky enough to experience the support and encouraging nature of this crazy sport, but sometimes it’s easy to go down a rabbit hole on Instagram and think that everyone is a fit, ripped, spandex clad Adonis.  For an unfamiliar supporter to recognise the diversity and capability of each athlete lining up on the beach, it’s a great reminder that, yes, this sport is nutty, but we will take anyone, from any stage of fitness, and encourage them to achieve goals that they previously thought were unreachable.

So now that I am setting new goals, including a full Ironman, knowing all the time and effort (and money) involved, I am blaming my mum for suggesting that first step and supporting me, (even though she thinks it’s crazy to spend $1,000 on the entry to a single race).  Maybe one day I’ll convince her to give it a tri.

Ironman Sunshine Coast 70.3

Normally I would think that race reports are written by athletes, the people I respect and admire, and mentally I never include myself as an athlete.  I still find it strange to call myself a triathlete, knowing that I am surrounded by strong dedicated people who are achieving high goals.  My efforts in triathlon have not seemed to measure up to that standard, but today I’m going to acknowledge that I did something awesome on Sunday, and I’m stoked! (Full disclosure though, this got longer than I thought…)

And when I say that I did something awesome, that’s only because of the people in my life who have provided a support structure to allow me to do so.  My mum and Mum-in-law have been the biggest help in allowing me training time by watching Arya for me.  Without them, a lot of the more important training sessions would not be possible.  My whole family has helped with early morning and overnight babysitting, and daycare pickups, meaning I could fit in the longer sessions, so a huge thanks to them.  Also, thanks to my coach Mary, who helped guide and support me in the months leading up to the race.

Prep: It doesn’t take very long after getting to know me, to realise that I am not your typical type-A triathlete, so I normally have to double and triple check everything and overprepare, because chances are I have forgotten something, (like the time I forgot my helmet).  Well this race, I had everything, and extras (winning!), but Saturday afternoon I was getting ready for a last dip in the ocean when I got an epic splinter (stake) that had to be cut out.  It seemed silly and of course I was fine, but it was rather tender on Sunday morning so I ended up wasting a lot of time trying to find a med tent, thinking that the bike and run legs might cause a lot of pain with the cut.  I finally gave up, but what I hadn’t double checked myself on Saturday was that the wave starts had changed, so as walked to the start with my training partner to do a final bag drop and wait for our age group to be called, thinking I had 15 minutes to spare, we saw our age group gathered and being given a two minute warning! 30s later I had dropped my bag, grabbed my goggles and cap and was running to the start.  Hands shaking, heart pumping, and twisted goggles, but I made it and started with my AG.

Swim: Once I hit the water I really enjoyed the swim.  I was so distracted that I didn’t even notice the water temperature.  I did think for a moment about how far away those buoys were, but then I realised I swim 500-1000m more than that distance every single training session and after that I was fine.  It was congested in the water which meant stopping occasionally and switching to breaststroke to change direction slightly so I didn’t get a foot in the head, but I ended up moving out from the pack on the return section, so I swam a little further, but it was a lot less annoying.  I swam pretty close to the time I expected (slow), but I was happy with that.  The only annoying thing was that the lifesaver’s shirts were exactly the same orange colour as the buoys!

Ride: I was a little slower out of my wetsuit than I had hoped but I grabbed my gear, loaded up on nutrition, and slapped on some sunscreen.  WOW! Did that pay off!  I’ve seen some horrendous sunburns on Instagram, but sunscreen before the swim and before the ride meant almost no sunburn at all!  Getting out of transition was super congested so that was frustrating, but I got out there and up the hill and away.  I was less familiar with the first section of the bike course out on the highway so I enjoyed the view, but didn’t feel as comfortable as I knew I was in the hinterland section.  I actually stopped and checked my brakes at one point, because even though I had triple checked them, I was losing speed and thought they might have been rubbing.  Turns out it was just my legs losing speed and I just wasted more time… That lead me to thinking about my splits and being able to check them afterwards, which made me think I was so glad I had a timing chip for that, which made me look at my leg and realise that I wasn’t wearing my timing chip… I was actually paranoid I would forget it and had put in on early in the morning, but decided to take it off to put my wetsuit on.  I don’t know what I was thinking, but it made sense at the time.  It obviously never made it back on my leg so I started freaking out a little, but in the end I pulled into the penalty tent and spoke to the official and let him know.  It wasted another minute or so, but he was able to inform the other officials and they had a new timing chip waiting for me in transition before the run.  That off my mind I was able to head for the hills, literally.  I actually love that hilly loop, and I found the congestion on the first lap frustrating, but having been one of the last waves to start, it  cleared up for the second lap. I actually started to worry that I was falling behind but I just picked the person ahead of me and focused until I caught up and then repeated the process until I was back riding past the RTC tent and pumping my fist.

Run: I grabbed my run gear and threw on the timing chip and was off on the run pretty quickly. I was on too much of a high for the little hill to worry me, and as I ran past the RTC tent it was the best feeling.  I knew at that point that cut offs weren’t going to be an issue and I was going to finish this.  There was so much support on the run course and random people yelling my name.  That really freaked me out until I remembered that my name was on my number!  Because this was my first 70.3 I went in with times that I expected for each of the legs, but I hadn’t really planned out a particular pace or HR for the run.  I had only got my distance up to 14kms in the lead up, so I was a little worried, but I had done a half marathon before, and I’m pretty stubborn, so I knew I would complete it. I just wasn’t sure what kind of time it would be. I ended up running a 5 min PB on my last 21.1 and I had competed in a team previously, so was fresh for the run.  I was still slow, but to drop that much time after doing the swim and ride prior definitely showed my training improvement over the last 6 months.  I loved the run! On my way in from my first lap I spotted my crew with RTC, my mum, sis, friend, and daughter.  My heart could not be more full in that moment! As I headed out on my second lap I pulled over and gave my girl a kiss.  Her smile made my day! I was getting really emotional after that!  At the 12km mark things started to feel a little harder, but I passed a friend and tri coach shortly after that who reminded me to pick up my cadence.  After that I had something to focus on instead of just plodding along.  That made such a difference and I think my legs felt better for it and it definitely helped my time. As I passed my club for the final time the atmosphere was incredible.  Everyone was cheering and giving high fives and I kind of lost it after that.  I had a smile plastered to my face, and was totally on a high, but I cried down that hill and heading to the chute.  Let me tell you crying and running is not a good mix.  It makes breathing pretty hard and I hear that’s kind of vital! There’s nothing that could beat running down that chute to the finish line.  I spotted my mum and Arya, and a few other friends who had already finished the race.  I’ve seen the race photos already, and I’m not sure my smile could get any wider!  I finished with a time of 6.22.09 and it was slower than I had hoped, but gave me a good starting point for the next race.

Overall, it was pretty bloody brilliant.  I loved the distance.  The course was amazing. The supporters were awesome, as were their signs! I made some dumb mistakes, as I seem to every race (never the same ones) but I got through it.  I did feel like I had more in me to perform better, so I want to work on focusing in the race and pushing a little harder, but I’m still so proud of what I accomplished.

Now I’m just looking forward to my next 70.3 in February and full IM in 2019!

Bring it on!

Welcome back to my adventure!

Hi! It’s been a while.  Did you miss me?  I’m guessing probably not, because let’s face it, the internet is full of interesting and hilarious things, but I’m back now and looking forward to adding my voice and sharing in a little corner of the world wide web.

It’s probably been nearly 2 years since I last published a blog post, and so much has happened that I don’t think I could ever catch you up, but here’s the gist of it:

1. Arya is now 2!
2. I’m studying Exercise Physiology (STILL)
3. I’m working as a trainer at the Morton Bay Lions AFL Club and thoroughly enjoying it.
4. I have dived head first into the world of triathlon, and have gone from a first timer’s event just over a year and a half ago, to completing my first 70.3 distance race at the Sunshine coast last weekend.
5. I have discovered a life outdoors! I am now hiking, kayaking, camping, and of course swimming, cycling, and running.  Yes, for once in her life, this bookworm has a tan.

Of course, there have been many ups and downs that have taken me through the above 5 points and I have some goals to cover over the next 2 years that will take some grit to accomplish (graduating university), but I feel like I’m stepping into the next phase of life/fitness/motherhood and I’m looking forward to sharing the fun.

Stay posted for a Sunshine Coast 70.3 race report and if you would like to see all the fun my instagram handle is @runtored

Running Bare

Today I feel like I did something very scary, but it seems almost insignificant to say so.  I thrust myself into the art world and attempted a watercolour painting as a gift for some dear friends and their soon to be born baby girl.  The only downside was that it was something I had never painted before, I had no idea how to do it, and I’m not a very confident painter.  All I had was an image in my mind and somehow had to transfer it to paper which I’m normally terrible at doing, ON THE MORNING OF THE SHOWER!  First thought, “Who does this?”  Second thought, “What can I find on Pinterest?”  After some rapid Pinterest research while my own bubby was napping I drew a quick very basic outline (FAR more scary than painting!) and put brush to paper.

At this point I’m sure you’re wondering when the scary part is coming.  So what if I’m not that great at art, it’s the thought that counts right?  WRONG!  It was difficult to put myself out there, even in the privacy of my own home, hoping that each new brush stroke would not destroy all the previous ones.  I have to admit that once I completed the main feature of the image, I almost didn’t complete the rest of the painting.  I was so scared to mess it up, too scared to fail.  Each step of the way I was wanting to check with all my arty friends and make sure that it was still okay.  I finally finished the painting an hour or two later after an intermission when Arya decided to wake up and wanted to play.  After fiddling for a while, I was actually really happy with it, but it’s so intimidating when you have to make yourself vulnerable in front of others and reveal a part of yourself.  This wasn’t just a pretty picture.  It really meant something that I was trying to share and I was laying myself bare in front the people I care most about.  The funniest part, is that it was only yesterday that I was listening to someone speak about being vulnerable with those precious to you, your chosen family.  I’m not that sort of person. I like to be strong, independent, and rely only (mostly) on big old me.  I’m pretty much invincible.  You can see how I struggled a little with this!

I’m really proud of myself for sitting down and attempting to create something from nothing, and I’m proud of the fact that I was willing to lay it out in front of others.  Even if it was totally awful, I still did it.  Just don’t ask me to paint it again, because I’m really not sure that I could!  It’s s step toward who I want to be and opening up to the people I have chosen to be my family (and my own family too of course!).

The image I had in my mind was of a purple bird rising up and emerging out of water, all of it purple, and all of it alive.  It is supposed to represent royalty, and new life bursting forth.  Apologies for the photo quality!

PS. A pajama singlet was sacrificed in the creative process.  I didn’t even know I had paint everywhere until Mum pointed it out.  Oh well, at least it’s water soluble, right?

Painting for Eva Faith

6 Months

After a big day of activity, with mountain climbing and swimming I have managed to complete 14,671 steps and have determined to be fitter and eat healthier.  It’s a great feeling!  Almost as great as the big mouthful of ice cream with caramel topping that I just ate.  Who was I kidding?

It’s been a long time since I’ve written on this blog, and a lot has changed.  I now have to rush to type because I have a little bub in bed who will decide she is desperately hungry in about 15 minutes.  I am going to endeavour to write more often and get the old juices flowing.  My girl is now nearly 6 months old and I’m starting to feel like I can get back to the things that I love to do, like writing blogs!

I also want to compile a few lists of parenting 101s and tips and tricks of all the random stuff that you don’t think of before you become a parent.  It might have saved me some money had I known some of these things.

Having said all of this, my precious 15 minutes is over (I got distracted making a cup of tea and by The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.  I swear I haven’t become that mum.  I just haven’t bothered changing the channel.) and I have to feed Bubby so I can get some precious, precious sleep!

Clouds Do Pass

I left my last post at a fairly low point, but this is not a place where I have stayed emotionally.  I don’t want to give the impression that I am unhappy.  It has been hard, and I have had my moments of stress and insecurity and pain, but they are moments, and they pass.  I haven’t written in order to gauge sympathy, but to simply and honestly share my story.  I don’t feel that life has dealt me a hard card.  In cfact, I’m highly aware that my choices have influenced where I am now.  I’m also aware that I am not responsible for other people’s actions.  Some of the last few months have been the result of my actions and others’ that affect me, and some of it has just  been the reality of life and death.

My biggest question has been, “Where to now?”.  What to do?  How to plan?  What to feel?  My tactic has been to feel what I need to feel in the moment.  I deal with my emotions in the moment, sometimes well, sometimes not.  I am finally at the point where I can breathe and sleep freely and I feel that I can think with a clear head (although I’m sure there will be many pregnant moments where I *think* I’m being clear headed)

My greatest plan has been to make the decisions now, that I need to make now, and leave for later the choices that I don’t yet need to answer.  For example, I don’t need to decide now what school I want Meebs to go to, but I do need to get a financial plan so I can begin to save for the future (including those very expensive school costs).  I don’t need to have a birthing plan just yet, but I do need to decide what hospital I’m going to, and how I’m going to progress with doctors and midwives etc.  Trust me, after the instability of the past year I desperately want all my ducks in a row, but I’m learning not to stress about what I haven’t got sorted, and as much as I want my duckies all neat and tidy, I’m slowly learning to let go.

Very, very, slowly.

I’m still learning to lean on God for the big things as well as the little ones.  I still have no idea how I’m going to cope financially and even if full time work is a viable option once Amoeba is born, but it’s one of those ‘trusting in God for the answer LATER’ questions that tomorrow can answer.  I’d still rather trust myself.  It’s a hard habit to kick, but I take things one day at a time.

Even today as I tried to save the 2 thousand odd dollars that I would otherwise lose after cancelling a month long snowboarding trip (at 3-4 months pregnant, snowboarding in another country was ill-advised) I found myself having to stop and breathe and say, ‘Daddy God, I need to open the right doors, and close the wrong ones’.  Of course, this was after freaking out, getting all shaky, and then calling my mum.  Like I said, I’m not perfect.  I still have a LONG way to go.

The hardest lesson is learning to forgive.  I have found it so hard to even entertain the idea, but as the sharpness of the hurt lessens, I’m realising that I have to forgive, or I’ll be stuck at this hurting, bitter point for the foreseeable future.  I don’t know how, but it is the next thing I have to work through.  Again, I’m asking each day, ‘Father I don’t know how to do this, but I choose to forgive.’  It’s going to take a lot of grace that is not in me yet.  It’s hard to forgive when someone hasn’t apologised and doesn’t want forgiveness.  It’s going to take a lot more than all that is Bek.

Having said all of this, I’m excited for the future.  I check each week to see what fruit matches Meebs size and eagerly counting down the weeks until I can find out if I have a little boy  or little girl coming.  I’m saving (which does not come naturally) and making plans to live fully and invest in myself and in Meebs future.    I have never been more encouraged and uplifted by the people around me.  I feel more secure knowing that I’m not in this alone.  I don’t have all the answers yet, and I probably won’t ever, much to my dismay.  The one thing I do have is hope, for now that is enough.