Grey

This morning, I found my first grey hair.

It is on the right side, slightly above my temple. It took a close look, but it's surely there. I have begun the true ageing process. Beyond all of the weather and lines on my face.

I have found an au pair to invite to our home. She rather fell in our lap and still seems like a lovely person. I'm excited to have more life flexibility and certainly more support. Is that too much to ask of an au pair? God I hope not.

I also managed to pull through my budget over the weekend with disappointing results. It's time to make action.
One, I can start figuring out how investing works. It involves research, a website, and money. I also want to find an advisor or tax consultant of some sort who can help me work out what is best considering both countries have a hold on me.

Whatever. That's a good move. I knew I had to stick it out. I reached out to a friend's father who I trust and picked his brain raw. I had to specify that I wanted the advice that he would give as a father, not an advisor. I'm glad he did. I could wait until I have more time under my belt, but let's face it, when is that ever going to happen?

We all spent this weekend wrapped up in our pyjamas. It rained out the KiteFest. I've just wanted to sleep. I'm awfully thirsty. There's just been a few tricks on and it makes me aware that I should care for my body more. Somehow.

A blood test, and I should probably trigger that glucose tolerance test. To be determined...

Frustration

I think I am losing my patience much faster than I used to.
This is not good.
I used to be able to consider many long term effects, or the function for the behaviour. Or step back and analyse what is going on, rather than get overwhelmed.

I think I'm just getting tired.
I'm tired of not sleeping,
waking up to the cries of "mommy"
Reminding small people of their manners
Setting boundaries
Maintaining my expectations, over and over and over again

I'm tired.
I've lost my patience.

Mood, the Tragedy Magnet

I just want to watch devastating, overpowering movies. Why is this?

When Austin died and I was lying in bed with my fresh baby, I could escape from all of the people and difficult life bits by watching the bitter musings of House.

And it was perfect.

I must be in a similar mental state, where tricky choices and unpleasant moves can be temporarily avoided by spending my evening on the lounge and watching some actor pretend to be in a worse place.

Why is this?

Do we really feel better after watching or realising that others can have a harder time? Why is competition always pushing through our human veins?
Adrian Brody. Is that his name? Tonight, I am watching The Pianist on Netflix.

I am also feeling quite alone in my life. Perhaps I came into this relationship purely to avoid the lonely feelings, but yet here they still are.

I called him an asshole today. And, to be fair, the term "asshole" is very fitting. He is one. Often.
This relationship is not a reciprocal one, I feel. Am I better off on my own?
My children are attached to him. The sex is nice. The commitment and having a +1 is nice and I know he is loyal. But I'm not satisfied emotionally. Oh well. I am also not looking for another relationship, so this one will do.

My children have been really challenging for me. The need for attention. The loud, loud noise. The neediness. It's been hard. I've missed quiet contemplation and rest.
One day, I'll have too much and miss the neediness.
Oh, life.

Au Pair

I am prepared to commit.
It was a surprising challenge to find a place to start actually.

The Google search.
Agencies.
"La la la la, we're the best agency and will match you with the best fit for your family."
However, the $800 fee seems excessive.

More google. Nothing that seems particularly obvious.


Now, I'm not in need of full time child care, or help. My needs reflect support with children for my mental sanity. And my overwhelming need to get this awful stench of indoor vegan dog and smelly man out of my granny flat. It's a potent combination. Be gone.

I learned that my needs reflect what is called a "demi pair". Offer room and board in exchange for 15-20 hours of childcare and light housekeeping duties. In my head, it sounds so perfect.

An hour in the morning to help with breakfast and getting ready for school. An hour or two in the afternoon so I can make dinner without a 2 year old climbing through the cupboard and pulling knives off the bench top. Complete the package with a few other hours sprinkled in here and there to let me have a dinner date, or go to the shop on my own. Or run. Or walk. Or lay on the beach and look at stars after the kids bedtime.

Anyway. It all sounds lovely.

As previously mentioned, I process by conversation bouncing. And it came back to Facebook. And Facebook groups. The social media mogul strikes again.
Two days later, I get accepted to one of the host family groups and can pull through old comments and found the real site recommendation.

Au Pair World, it's called.
Adventure begins.

Daughter

My daughter is a mystery to me.

She cries. She's dramatic. Little things are enormous. Everything is exaggerated.
It's exhausting. And not a language in which I am fluent.

I had an epiphany recently after conversation bouncing.

Conversation bouncing: 
I share a thought/ concern/ brain candy with someone and listen to their response. 
When I get a particularly interesting response, I can then float that by another person to hear their response. 
It's fascinating. 

As Ev falls into a rabbit hole of emotion and wet pants, I shared this with my therapist.  Then Nicole. The IT guy at work. Nicole again.

Thought train:
Ev and I just communicate differently and have very different personalities.
Her anxiety could be manifesting as wet pants and overt emotions.
It's possible that these issues are a result of trauma.
Possible, - but unlikely that this is a result of a traumatic event from two years ago.
More likely, she is reacting to a change in ... me.

Confronting.

But it would make sense.

Now, when Ev cries, I have tried to change my responses by accepting the cry. Acknowledging that her crying might make her feel better. But to please take that to her room so I can keep working.

Apparently, this is not great. It's ignoring someones feelings. And a child's way of interpreting this could be * I'm allowed to cry, but she doesn't want to know about it *

In many ways, this is actually true. I don't particularly care about these ridiculous overwhelming bouts of unnecessary emotion. I see no need for it, especially this frequently. I accept that if you want to do it, please take it elsewhere because no, I don't want to spend time on this.

So this will be new territory for me. I've sought a child psychologist to provide some insight. We'll see where I can go from here.