Thoughts

16 10 2011

I love my new loft. It is still bare, only the olive green couch breaks away from the colour of the pine floor and the white walls. I love to hide up here, smell the delicious scent of fresh wood. There is a little skylight, which allows to see nothing but mountain and sky.

It is the place where I can breathe… Here, I have been enjoying a few moments of much needed solitude, a few minutes when  I can think,  read, write, relax, undisturbed. Those are rare moments in my life lately and I crave them with all my body and soul. I feel I can be myself here. I can daydream my own dreams without having to explain myself to others… without listening to others tell me how crazy and foolish I sound. Here, I often think of the past, I analyze the present, look at the future while laughing and crying, congested by the whirlpool of thoughts.

This past week was a roller coaster of emotions. It started out with a bit of worry as I had to get my daughter to the doctor to get yet another blood test done as the previous one showed some abnormal counts. While we were at the doctor’s office, she suggested also a urine test. My poor little girl couldn’t pee on the spot and, no matter how much water she drank, how many”pssshhh” sounds I made – I can only imagine what the people in the near bathroom thought – “coo coo Mom”! -, we left an hour later with the request to bring a urine sample the next morning. On Tuesday, I woke up by thunders and lightnings and really strong winds, got myself and my girl ready, grabbed the pee sample, a few handouts and notes needed for a morning business presentation. By the time I dropped my daughter off to school, the rain was so strong and thick that I was soaked. So, I didn’t think much about how wet my new much-desired Lug bag looked… Once I arrived at the lab, however, it was clear that it wasn’t all rain that got my bag wet… I must have not screwed the top of the urine container tightly enough and my daughter’s pee was all over my bag, wallet and work papers! I wanted to scream… (which I actually did in the solitude of my car), but then I imagined myself 15 years from now telling my daughter this anecdote and I laughed out loud at the silliness of it all.

I guess being a working Mom also means taking into account that you will show up at the office with pee-stained papers!

Thursday saw me trying to communicate with a dear friend over Skype. We had lots of connection difficulties and our conversation resulted in a lot of funny face expressions and the use of sign language. Our conversation only lasted a few minutes because of this, but it put a smile on my face for the entire day. It was bitter-sweet, really, as I truly miss this friendship in my life. It is good for my heart and soul.

Also, this past week I found out that my girl is completely over her egg allergy, which she’s had since she was a baby. This will make her life a bit easier.

I have all the reasons to be happy, yet I find myself so down at times, so tired and angry at myself and at the world… I lose my patience very easily. I hate myself when this happens as I wish I could be the perfect partner, the perfect mother, the perfect daughter, the perfect professional. I am everything but perfect. It feels like I can’t do anything right, let alone be any of those perfect identities, especially the one thing that is most important to me, to be a good mother to my daughter.  I know of other women who are business women, mothers and wives; they can do it all, and they don’t lose their smile and their soft touch. I am jealous of those women, and angry at myself for not being able to be one of them.

*******************************************************************************************

I have been listening to this song over and over again and I never get tired of it. I love this girl’s voice, it has the power to go right through my body and touch my soul.

Advertisements




Choosing each other

1 10 2011

The other day, on the local playground I had quite the interesting conversation with a chatty old man. In the first twenty minutes of his monologue, he told me his entire life story as I sat on the playground bench trying to keep my daughter under the mommy – radar while half-listening to this peculiar old guy.

“Sixty-five years…” — “Pardon me?” I said. “Sixty-five years since I look my wife in the eyes and asked her to marry me. We were married two weeks later and have been ever since.”

“Wow!” I said, “that’s a life-time… the real meaning of forever love…”.

He laughed out loud and slowly shook his head. “Love, my dear, is for the young mind. When you reach my age, you look back and you see that during the years you’ve gone through good times and bad times and that this person has always been near you. During life, you have chosen each other, over and over again.”

I looked at him, speechless.

He smiled an ancient smile and walked away with the help of  his cane.

You have chosen each other, over and over again.”





Happy B-day to Moi!

13 09 2011

My birthday gift to myself: a few hours of blissful solitude

 

 





Summer memories

10 09 2011

I am feeling nostalgic these days. In fact, this feeling has been haunting me for a while. It could also be the end-of-summer blues that strikes me every year… or the fact that I am turning 35 next week. Lately, I often find myself thinking of the past, how I used to be, how I used to feel.

Summer has always been a special time of the year for me. As a child, there was always a road trip with my parents, being it to the beach or to the mountains, my parents would leave in the middle of the night, sometime before dawn my father would carry me from my bed, still asleep, and wrap me in the coziest blanket in the backseat of the car. I would always wake up in time to watch the sunrise, something very special as I never used to do while at home.

I remember lots of great summers and great adventures. I remember the first time I went abroad by myself, I was only 11 years old and I spent a month in another country as part of a school program. That was the beginning of numerous trips, I never stopped traveling by myself after that summer…

Summer of ’96 marked the moment I fell in love for the first time, with a man, with a place, with the feeling of freedom. Summer of  ’97 taught me that, no matter how much planning we do, something unexpected always happens and it could turn our life upside down. I think back of Summer of ’98 and I love the person I was then. I backpacked around Europe by myself and met wonderful people. It was standing on a hill in the Isle of Skye, however, that I realized that during the two plus months of traveling I had met a strong girl, funny, deep, sensitive, passionate and loving… For the first time in my life, I had got to know and, above all, like the real me.

Another fantastic, yet quite crazy summer happened in ’99. After spending most of the hot months working in the town were I went to university and  having a short, yet steamy love affair with a charming, older Englishman, I went traveling again accompanied by whom would become a dear friend. He showed me new places, geographical and emotional, he showed me that no matter how beautiful love is, it always hurts one way or another. He didn’t know this, but he probably knew me better than I knew myself then.

Summer of the year 2000 was a turning point for me. Again, I traveled a lot but this time I stopped in one place and I made it my second home.

Every single summer in my life taught me something, being it positive or negative, like when I lost two of my closest family members in summer 2003…

When I was expecting  my daughter, I promised I would do my best to build happy and unique summer memories for her. Traveling is a very important part of my life and life of our family so, since her very first summer, we took her to different destinations. This year, I decided to introduce something new, something that I hope would make the bond between us even stronger. We backpacked through three countries, just the two of us, and it was such a wonderful experience that I can’t wait to do it again next year.

The end of this summer season carried bitter-sweet feelings. We moved to our new home, to a new town and my baby started her second year of preschool. Soon, I will turn 35 years old and I have to admit I am not taking it well… I love the life I chose for myself, I love being a mother, and a married woman (even though from time to time you might hear me yell say otherwise, especially when the poor hubby does or says something he really really shouldn’t have), but I feel like I am getting old, and this scares me because, on the inside I still crave that passion and freedom that characterized my early twenties…

… does it make any sense?!

Anyway, I will leave you with one of my favourite quotes on growing old…

It is not the years in your life, but the life in your years that counts.”


				




Home

30 08 2011

Gosh, I have a new blog and I am already late at posting! Sorry!  

However, I have a very good excuse, I have moved to a new place, my own place, for the first time in my life. It all happened so fast and unexpectingly that it is quite complicated to express the rollercoaster of emotions this process is having on my over sensitive soul. In a way, I am happy and excited to be able to have my own temple, a place that nothing else knows but my life and the one of my family. 

It is also a committment, however,  to a specific place, geographical and emotional, which is causing me a bit of anxiety. I moved to the town where I grew up, the same place I happily left when I was 18, full of burning desire to see the world, meet new faces, experience new cultures.  I spent all of my twenties doing just that, traveling and moving to different countries, passionately experiencing life in two continents. At the beginning, this purchase felt to me like a loss of that lifestyle, but I am slowly realizing that, even though I left the place, the place never really left me…

I will certainly keep traveling (it is a passion I can’t live without) and, as my child gets older, I will do so more often and for extended periods of time. Each time I will return to this little mountain town, to my little grey house with wooden windows and the mountains will hug me again, ready to welcome me and my family. We will feel “home” over and over again. 

                                                  ***