Halfway

Yippee, I made it to the halfway point of NaBloPoMo...and I'm exhausted. Not from the blogging (like every year, I find it much easier to find the time than I thought) but just from all that is happening in my mad, sweet world. Most of it good, some of it challenging - not enough the washing machine lost it's mojo but last night the sewerage pipe decided to clog up leaving us without water or toilets. I've always maintained that my life is one great adventure, it's just that some weeks it's more adventurous than others!

I chatted to my sister on the phone today and I was telling her about an exciting job opportunity DH has on the horizon. DH has been chasing this opportunity for a long time, and he's excited about it - emotionally and intellectually it presents a challenge he would love to take on. Am I worried about it? No. Not really. Yes, a few things about it make me feel a little apprehensive, and yes a new change like this is always a little hard to cope with at first - but in the main I'm thrilled for him. As someone who spends most of her life taking leaps and worry about the "can I do this?" type of questions later, it would hardly be fair if I didn't let him take his own series of leaps. 

Her immediate reaction was not one of celebration, it was one of caution. I can't say I blame her, my DH has had a rather chequered work history since we've been married. I still found myself a little disappointed in her reaction, even though I know it came from a place of love and wanting to protect her little sister from history repeating itself. My disappointment comes not because she is by nature a cautious person, and not because I would have rather she be joyous for us (although of course I would have) - it comes because I found myself wondering if she has actually learned the lessons our Dad's death taught us: that nothing in life is a certainty, that there is no way to predict the future, and that a better trait to cuiltivate than caution is resilience. My immediate, knee-jerk reaction was one of slight irritation - of the, "Why can't she just be happy for me?" sort.

However.

Whenever I'm dealing with tough stuff (and tough does not always mean negative) I've got a friend who reminds me to stop my stressing out and instead ask myself, "What's the lesson I'm meant to learn from this?" Sometimes that's the last thing I want to hear (I'd much rather hear, "poor you, now here's some chocolate to make it easier...") but there is no denying that it has completely re-shaped the way I think about so many things in life.  So when my sister was less than thrilled about something which I think is a great, exciting (and yes, a little stressful) opportunity...rather than get more irritated at her, I just thought, "What's the lesson I'm meant to learn from this?" The lesson is a pretty simple one - it was a reminder that I'm loved. Her reaction was more about her worry and love for me than it was about anything else. I have no idea if she has learned the same lessons I've learned from our shared experience of loss - but does it really matter?

Yesterday, when I was staring into a sink filled with grey, disgusting, stuff-floating-in-it water, I wanted to cry. I really did. My life is bursting at the seams at the moment and I don't have time for another domestic drama. Since I'm pretty good at self-talk, I looked into that nasty sink and thought, "so what can possibly be the lesson meant to be learned from this mess?" (admittedly I was not looking for a terribly spiritual answer. It was said with a whole heap of mental sarcasm than anything else.) While I was contemplating the sink situation and the secret lessons held within it's murky depths, DD1 yelled from upstairs, "MUM! There's something wrong with the toilets and I've gotta GO!!!!"

Lesson to be learned?

Shit happens.

And sometimes it happens so much it gets your pipes blocked.