The battle of the Mums

Life is still hectic, partially of my own making and partially because sometimes things just have to be done that aren't part of a normal day, whatever constitutes normal, but it's all good. I am finally beginning to realise just how good. 

As I have mentioned before I have lived my life very anti-routine.  It has always been part of who I am and even though it may seem chaotic to others it has never felt that way to me.  Everything that needs to be done is done it just isn't done to a timetable; Monday - bedding, Tuesday - floors, Wednesday - washing, I mean seriously I cannot comprehend living like that. 

I have short, very short, periods where I give it a try and at the time I believe I have come across a wonderful system that I will be able to follow.  A week later it feels as if not only am I catering to a high maintenance family I am now nagging myself - get this done, get that done, you forgot to do this.  Needless to say the new system finds itself discarded.  Who wants any additional nagging in their life?  Besides I can't maintain the discipline because other things come up.

I admit the other things may be a beautiful sunny day, a trip to the shops to go birthday shopping, or just a matter of going out to lunch with a friend or my kids.  What am I supposed to say, "Oh no, sorry, I can't come out to lunch today it is bathroom and ironing day.  How about on the weekend?"  Not likely. 

The biggest advantage of my life is the freedom I have and I am not going to take it away from myself.  What I need to try and understand is why I feel the need to imprison myself every now and then.  I am guessing that I want to feel productive but I don't know why that is so ingrained in my head.

As soon as I relax and accept that I live a blessed life everything falls into place.  My housework is kept up to date, I have time for the people I care about and I am happy.  This should always be enough but unfortunately it isn't.  For some reason I fall into the trap of needing to justify my life to others.  Why I seem to feel that being happy and having a happy family isn't justification enough I am not sure. 

I used to believe stay-at-home Mum's who claim to have no time for themselves, who are always flat out, and who argue that their life is busier than a working mother, but, how can that be?  In many instances a working mother still has to wash, iron, cook and clean, as well as care for sick children, but she also has to work.  I have been both and I will not deny that my life is much easier now.  It is true that often I don't have much spare time but that is of my own making.  I used to perpetrate the very same no-spare-time-myth, but I can no longer do that, nor do I want to. 

I don't sit around all day watching day time television while drinking coffee and eating biscuits but that is only because those things don't appeal to me.  I will sit outside in the sun reading a book drinking a coffee though. 

What a wonderful world it would be if people looked at individuals instead of stereotypes.  Nobody can ever truly understand anothers life unless they can live it, which of course is impossible, so how about we judge less, especially ourselves, and just find the joy in our own unique situations. Every housewife is not an under-educated sloth and every working mother is not a career driven workaholic with no time for her children.

I admire career women but I no longer have any desire to be one and slowly but surely I am discovering that doesn't make me any less a person. If my situation was to change and we needed the additional income I would happily go back to work but until that day comes I will stick with looking after my family during the day and evening and sitting up until the early hours of the morning to pursue my passion for the written word.  That is my choice, wife and mum by day, writer by night.

It should never be an issue of who is better, a stay-at-home Mum or a working Mum, and, as to who has it tougher, who knows, and really, who cares?  The question should be - why does the competition for better or worse, harder or easier exist in the first place?  Who started it and how do we stop it?

I can't even come close to answering those questions although I have some theories.  I may be very, very wrong but I believe for whatever reason both parties feel the need to justify their existence based on a bizarre sense of guilt, but who am I to say.  I can't speak for other people, I just know that when I worked I felt guilty because I wasn't available for my kids as much and now that I don't work I occassionally feel guilty because I am not contributing financially.  Just a thought.

Enough thoughts.  As I look out my window at a cloudless sky I realise that I should be taking advantage of the life I have, so having done all my washing and cleaning for the day I am going to head outside with my book and coffee and enjoy the sunshine.  I may or may not have it easier but I do know that right now I definitely feel I have it better.

So from what I can understand it comes down to this,

Live the life you have

and find as much enjoyment in it as you can. 

Remembering what's important

I had a reality check this morning.  Last night Ozzie, one of our four wonderful ginger companions came in with his eye partially swollen shut.  Upon looking him over it became obvious he had been the victim of a nasty scrap.  Considering his size I would hate to see the other cat.

His lower eyelid is torn and hard to look at.  Somehow he permitted my bungling nursing efforts and I bathed his left eye in salt water, relieved to see he could open it further as a result.  Alana's boyfriend was king hit on New Year's Eve earlier this year and as nasty as it looked all swollen, purple and green he healed quickly and well, so I held great hope for Ozman.

This morning my hope turned to distress, his eye was completely swollen shut and even after bathing he didn't seem able to force it open.  Using my best vetinary skills I managed to prise the lids apart but it wasn't pretty and neither is what I saw.  He had gunk and pus and a swollen angry lump where is lower eyelid had once been.  I felt sick.  I can't imagine how he was feeling.

Lying in bed this morning I had planned my day and it was all about me, well until it was time to take Lani to the gym at least, but now it was all about Oz.  I grabbed the Yellow Pages, looked up my vet's number and dialled. 

My voice was shaky, I knew it was, but I couldn't help it, I wanted his eye to be fine and I wanted it to be better.  It wasn't opening time yet so I was automatically transferred to a very sympathetic nurse working in the emergency clinic who explained that I would need to ring back in ten minutes.  Ten minutes is a long time especially having been informed that they might not be able to make a house call since they were already heavily booked for the morning.  As stupid as it sounds, I have four cats and no cat carrier. 

The vet agreed to make the house call and we arranged a time between 10.30 and 11. Kelsey the receptionist had made my day, whatever happened from here could only be the best for Ozman.  I gave him a pat, I should have left him sleeping, and I returned to doing the books for our business to pass the time. 

Before I knew it a little green hatchback was pulling into my driveway and help was at hand.  Having looked Ozzie over she concluded that yes he had been in a cat fight and yes he did have a cut near his eye but that was just the beginning. He also had a cut on his eyeball, an abcess on his eye, a fever and his lymph nodes were up.  I'd only diagnosed two out of six but I didn't have the flourescent yellow dye that she squirted in his eye and he accepted with out so much as a squeak, nor did I want to think that was possible. 

She dosed his eye with antibiotic drops, popped a tablet in his mouth as easily as if she was administering a tab to a teenager and all was going well. 

Sometimes you just have to know when to stop though.  We discovered that was after the tablet and before the syringe full of pain relief.  Syringes, tablets, stethoscopes and containers went flying, some of which I am sure are lost forever in the dust that resides under my too-low-for-the-vacuum couch, but she wasn't worried.  She found the syringe and discovered that I wasn't in need of stitches so she was happy and we left Ozman alone.

When she left I gave Oz some of the special cat milk I buy for the cats as a treat hoping he would show some interest.  Who was I kidding? This was Ozman I was talking about.  He doesn't lap or nibble at his food the way the others do, he inhales it and in what seemed like seconds the milk was gone.  Oz is going to be fine and so am I.

We get to go through the entire process again in a weeks time so I hope cats don't have amazing powers of recall or things might not be easy as they have been today.  In contrast I hope I do have strong recall abilities because today taught me something invaluable. 

Call it cliched, call it corny, I really don't care.  What I realised is that I didn't care about whether I completed everything on my new to do lists or not, I just wanted Oz to be well and I am glad that I am a stay at home wife and Mum who was gifted the time to sit and wait the 3 hours for the vet.

Charged emotions are the norm when women feel forced to justify their position as either working or stay-at-home Mums and I don't believe that is right.  Women should feel comfortable with their decisions, decisions that should be based on what they consider is best for themselves and their families.  For the first time in a long time, I just became comfortable with mine!

Writing might well be navel gazing but would I  understand myself without it? 

I doubt it!