I used to live alone! I used to wake up on Sunday mornings and roll over for another few hours before dragging myself to the kitchen (naked) and making a cup of tea before?falling?back into bed for a good few hours. There were Sundays when I never got dressed and never left my bedroom.
Life happened ... well actually, dreams happened.
In September last year my landlord turned into a greedy jerk and upped the rent to the point where I could not afford to call his bluff. The timing was perfect because I was dashing off to Italy with Greggie for a while and so I packed up my home and moved back to my mom ... for a month. Um ... the month has now turned into 9 and I've decided to stay for as long as it takes.
Takes for what?
To get published or to get Lifeology off the ground. Basically, as long as it takes to make my dreams a reality. Lucky for me, I have a great relationship with my mom and have turned a bleak situation into one that is happily serving both of us. She's not so lonely after the death of my dad (the love of her life and a story that I one day intend to share with the world because of how rare that love truly is). I, on the other hand and learning to deal with all of my issues of being vulnerable, having to surrender and accepting help and love. We make a fine pair.
I've compromised and embraced the changes that moving back home have thrust upon me, but can't help but long for a few things that one's own space provides. The greatest of that is my Sunday mornings.
I have the most gorgeous set of twin nephews and a leading bedroom from my mother's. Ironically, the thing that wakes me very Sunday morning after a fun night of sleeping over at Granny's, is Granny herself. She's always trying to whisper, but basically shouting that "Aunty Jo is sleeping" ... it's the 'Sssshhhhh' that drags me into reality and, like blood hounds, at the first stir of my body the boys are on my bed.
My nephew points to the window and shows me that the sun is up and I should be too. They want television ... which is either Bolt, Kung Fu Panda or Madagascar. I've lost count ... I don't know which one I've seen more ... it's a blu. Is Kung Fu Panda the one who thinks he's a super hero dog or is he the lion? Who's to know anymore.
Someone's hungry! Someone's thirsty ... and because they are twins they want the same cup. There are two, but they want the same one ... and so the crying starts ... all while I'm trying to blog!
It sounds like I don't adore these kids to death, but I do. I'm the proudest aunty ... but hey ... I'm the aunty. Today, I don't want to be a mom and yes, I've heard it all before ... I'd make a great mom! Still ... I don't want to be one! I want to blog ... today I want to wake up (even with my screaming nephews all around me) and I want to drag myself off the the kitchen (this time with pajamas on) and I want to make tea and climb back into bed and write.
With kids blazing in my face a few mornings a week, everyone else around me seems to get broody ... but I just want to follow my dreams.
So my younger sister arrived to take the kids to movies and I could see her horror that it was nearly midday and the boys were still in their pajamas ... but hey ... so was I. Magically ... we were having a fabulous time after convincing them to try watch something different and getting a little lost in some good old cartoons. They had eaten ... don't panic! They are well taken care of with Aunty Jo even though it's not the responsible stuff. I do the fun stuff like tell them they are the most gorgeous creatures on the planet and kiss them from head to toe, while my sister does the responsible stuff like chase them around the room to get them dressed.
The truth ...
When silence fell ... I smiled! I crawled back into bed and blogged and all was good in my world. But the smile of my face was not only because I was living my dream ... but because I am surrounded by beautiful kids ... and have written my first children's book for ?... kids ... and want to touch the heart to kids everywhere.
When I went to a very special family function with my mom at the end of the day, I sat with all the grown ups. Well, it was the 13th birthday party of my little cousin and that is a big things in the Jewish tradition. There was dancing and celebrating and speeches ... and a whole lot of kids.
These ones were older and slowly turning into little adults,but the noise level from the start of the day seemed pretty much the same. I sat with my cousins ... all married with kids ... and caught up on each others lives. We are that typical family that promises to get together more often than we actually do it, but when we do, it's such a special time.
It was all about kids ... the conversation hovered around homework, school holidays, nutritional crisis because there was chocolate everywhere ... and bedtime. The party was on a Sunday and there's school in the morning. When is the right time to leave? How late is too late for them to go to sleep? It is their cousin's party after all.
Everyone was dressed in their prettiest dresses and outfits and I was totally captivated by the little voices of the friends that said speeches. I cried at how cute my little cousin was and how sweetly she spoke about growing into a woman and thanking her parent's for all their love and encouragement.
However, when it came time for my cousin to ask me about my life (after one pang of 'what are they going to think?') I started to ramble off in such pride at all that is like my child to me.
Lifeology is just a baby and needs nurturing. So is my children's book and everything else that I write and hope to have published.
I am a proud mother of everything that I have given birth to and felt that same pride that I imagined my family talk about in relation to their life choices.