Looking back I can see a pattern. I like things to be simple. Perversely this comes from the long held realisation that most things are not actually that simple.
Wouldn't it be so much easier if they were?
All this week I've been feeling very out of sorts and irritable. I was even getting frustrated trying to figure out why the hell I felt that way. This has been the year where I have acknowledged this flaw in my character and tried to embrace life with all it's glorious and wonderful complications.
Except a lot of these complications suck.
I've always loved the Occams Razor theory that the simplest explanation is usually the right one. I think it's because I like the easy option alot of the time. So I'm trying to apply it to my life right now.
Observed phemomena 1:
The renovations get worse and messier each day. Really they do. I try to smile and laugh when I'm told about delays or changes to the schedule, but seriously, "get it together people!"
And where is the explanation to that?
According to my husband I need to chill out. This is what happens during renovations. All true, but I am finding it very hard to accept that people can't stick to their bloody deadlines anyway. And I know people mean well but it doesn't help when people say: "it will all be worth it in the end." It's like telling a 42 week pregnant mother with 2 year old twins, that it will all be worth it when the baby arrives. That maybe true, but when you're swollen, tired and exhausted you don't care. You just want someone to lay you in a hammock and pass you cool drinks and let you have an uninterrupted sleep.
Observed phemomena 2:
The trip to Sydney is complicated. I can't explain in detail here, mainly because you would most likely die of boredom. Thinking about it makes me want to die of boredom too.
Trust me when I say there is no simple solution to this one.
At least, not yet.
Occam, where are you?
Observed phemomena 3:
If you send something to someone and they acknowledge you have sent them something and will be in touch, what's the etiquette? Do you acknowledge their acknowledgement? Or do you shut the hell up?
Actually, maybe that's what I need to do.
ETA It is a truth universally acknowledged that cat's vets bills and car trouble are both pricey and stressful. I've also had those in the last 24 hours too.
Right. I promise I am shutting up now.

This week I've found myself doing alot of snapping and shouting. I blame the weather in part. It's been 40 degrees plus recently. I blame stress. In addition to worrying about Mr Large and his literacy "issues" we've discovered his teacher is taking leave, effective almost immediately. I feel sad for her and really, really stinking upset for my son who thinks she's wonderful. It's the week before my Bronze Medallion exams, FINALLY next week I'll get the exams out of the way and hopefully (fingers tightly crossed) pass them. I screwed up the courage to sign up for a course to improve my writing, and now it's almost here I'm terrified they will tell me my writing is AWFUL. And mother in law's birthday is coming up and apparently I have to organise to go out for a meal with them. On Sunday. Great.
So I haven't been a very nice person in general.
And then yesterday I had a lightbulb moment and I had this incredibly random thought.
What if I died, and my husband remarried and I was watching down from heaven, and saw his new wife treating my children and him, the way I am treating them?
I would want to kill her.
Or maim her at the very least.
Now apart from being a random idea, and for those of you who don't believe in the ever after, telling me I'm stupid beyond words, I think my point has merit.
And since then I've thought twice before snapping, or yelling.
I even told my husband to have a great time at his poker night.
I smiled at my children when they wanted to read the same story for the 7th time. And read it, with accents and everything.
And when Mr Small could not stop sobbing, because he loves his daddy and if daddy doesnt put him to bed the world will end or something.
Well I ignored my fatigue and the fact that I REALLY wanted to watch the latest episode of "Greys Anatomy" and we snuggled.
Until he did this.
And I loved every second of it.
I thought the "upstairs me" would approve.

Dear Me

it has come to my attention that long term sleep deprivation may have made you become a tad irrational. I wanted to draw your attention to the following points:

When you fall and bang your knee so hard you see stars, then it's okay to have a few days off from exercise. It is not okay to wake up in the night stressing about it. Some people would call you weird. Start back at a gentle jog tomorrow.

When your parents drop off some prawns for you to cook because they know your husband is working late, and you are tired, it is okay to look at the prawns blankly and put them in the fridge. And have toast for dinner. Have the prawns tomorrow night instead.

When you have the rare opportunity to meet other mothers from your child's school it is NOT okay to envy their lovely jewellery and beautiful manicures. It is okay to admire them. One day you will win the lottery and be able to buy and have those things. Till then, be happy for them and make mental notes about where they bought them for future reference

When for the twelvth time that night your toddler wanders across creaking floorboards to place his chubby paws at your shoulders and breathe heavily down your neck, it is okay to muffle sobs of frustration. It is also okay to wake your sleeping husband and shriek LOUDLY at him that it is HIS turn to put Mr Small back to bed.

When you feel stretched every conceivable way, and feel guilt about the stress of your Bronze Medallion Course and trying to write something half decent that maybe someday will be published and read by other equally frazzled parents, as well as returning to work next week, remember this:
You can't have it all, all the time. You can have some of it most of the time. So relax and go and make a cup of tea.

Love

Novels. Novels bore me to death. Always have and probably always will. As a kid I used to read in the big art books we had at home. They were full of wonderful images and amazing stories. Stories about how Géricault kept rotting horses heads under his bed. Stories about van Gogh cutting his ear. Stories about how Lautrec had a custom walking stick made in order to be able to hide booze in it. I couldn't get enough of those stories and I couldn't wait to grow up and become a tortured, neurotic artist myself. I became an illustrator-with-a-communication-disorder instead.
Close enough.

Born near Paris and living nearly twenty years in Amsterdam, I'm a vector addict. In fact: Pierre Bézier is my hero. Furthuremore I'm in love with my drawing tablet, an ageing Wacom Intuos A3 (but that's ok, I'm not getting younger either). That it then. Cheers.

This is a commissioned image about how retaining a "hollyday feeling" after returning to work kan keep people from being stressed and getting ill.