Lately I have had this messy imbalance going on that has had some implications on my life. I have had to remind myself that I don’t really subscribe to that whole balanced life concept – my time is spent at any given time – where it is needed most at that point. When it starts to feel like I’m tipping over the edge I know I need to take stock if for no other reason to just catch my breath. But this last month I’ve felt almost swallowed by the lack of balance. It’s not so much about the physical race I’m running but the feeling that I’ve got no space in my head.
My workload at my actual work has increased and there have been some tricky client expectations to manage, some of which have left me a bit fragile and fractured. Juggling this during the day is one thing but doing it at home after work when I want to be watching Go Jetters with Charlie is another. (Go Jetters, by the way, is very educational.) Because we have a sense of humour we thought that during my busy work phase it would be a good idea to move Charlie from cot to bed. Here’s some parenting advice you didn’t ask for. Stock up on frozen dinners for the first week you do a bed transition because standing in the kitchen taking time to cook dinner when toddler goes from cot to bed is as hilarious as it is ambitious.
So anyway, it feels that for the last month or so I lost a bit of my mojo. I knew it wasn’t good when the poor cat came and sat on my lap. I just wanted a moment to sit in my own space, to get my thoughts in the right place and the cat sitting on my lap felt just felt like something else needing my attention. I resented the cat. I may have even sighed at her. Of course I then felt guilty about this so have been making it up to her ever since. Cats are surprisingly forgiving.
I’ve been a joy to live with this last month.
In the midst of my maddening month, the cot to bed debacle (that has now thankfully been put to bed) and my missing mojo, I experienced a road rage moment. It’s weird how something so irrelevant and trivial can be very thing to derail you.
Firstly, the road rage thing was my fault.
I forgot to give someone “the wave.” Shit.
I ALWAYS give “the wave”. I even made a smart arse comment on Facebook only recently about people not giving “the wave” and so I’d become one of them. I give the wave even when I’m not entirely sure I need to do the wave thing because I wouldn’t want someone to think I’m a non waver.
On this particular afternoon I had some serious shit to sort out at work and having just picked up Charlie we were heading home to MM who was for the first time in forever, at home, in bed, pretty bloody unwell. Whilst I was tossing my mind around the wreckage that was my day my cute and tiny backseat driver was telling me that stop signs are octagons. I made a mental note to thank MM for teaching my son this little pearler because I was pretty sure that they were hexagons and anyway, Charlie at this very moment decided to demand a banana. How we went from octagons to bananas in two seconds flat is only for the gods of toddlerhood to know, but he was beginning to flip his lid and I was beginning to feel like I was falling down a rabbit hole.
It was then that a driver let me in and I forgot to wave.
Sometimes you catch people at their worst and I’m pretty sure that’s what happen next. Her worse and mine. Charlie was losing his shit in the backseat and the driver who I so rudely ignored (sheesh, it’s not a crime lady) was losing her shit at me. Glory days.
I was really pissed off that she reacted the way she did, and I was as equally upset that I let it upset me. I felt my voice crack as I tried to apologise to her and I was suddenly feeling very bloody over it. Like seriously lady I didn’t hit your car on purpose, actually I didn’t even come close to hitting your car. I can only assume that her reaction was because she had her own stuff she was dealing with and I guess that’s my point. We are often told not to judge someone until you’ve walked a mile… everyone has their own battles…. you get the picture. It would be easy to just think this driver should just get over herself and that her reaction was wildly disproportionate to the crime, but instead of just being a cow, it’s possible that she’d just found out that her husband has been having an affair. Does that still make her a cow? Am I saying it’s okay to be rude if your husband is having an affair? I’d much rather a banana demanding toddler than an affair having husband. It’s not that I’m making excuses for her ranting but I think I’d much rather give the benefit of the doubt than believe we’ve all become so completely disconnected from society, so cranky pants and so exhausted by our own stuff that we are turning into mean cows.
So the lesson I took away from all of this (other than the fact stop signs are octagons and not hexagons) is that never shall I harrumph at the driver who doesn’t wave when I let them. Instead I shall send a silent prayer to the universe hoping that everything in their orbit is okay and that whatever it is that is distracting them is as minor as a workload I should be grateful of, some backseat driving and demands for snacks.
And finally, because I will always find the silver lining and the blue skies, against the backdrop of all that was going on came Offspring Season Six and suddenly Nina, my old friend, helped me find my mojo again.