Edenland

http://www.edenriley.com/

If you look up happiness in the dictionary you will see my face in this photo. I'm smiling so hard that my face is about to turn inside out.

Ladies and gentlemen I'd like to introduce you to Eden Riley. For those of you who don't know, Eden writes all the words of all the feelings ever in the world at Edenland. Her blogs are some of the most favourite things I have read in my life and her vulnerability is one of the most powerful expressions of strength that I have seen.

Sometimes reading her stuff is liking taking a round house kick to the guts and other times it's like I'm up the back of the classroom suppressing giggles while we throw rolled up bits of paper at the back of our teachers head and sometimes it's like looking into a mirror but it's never ordinary. When she publishes something new I have to put aside time to read it. Just in case it's one of those ones that makes all the water in my body leak out of my eyes.

Reading Edenland is not for the faint hearted. With raw honesty she shares her scars and the innermost corners of the dark places of her heart. Her posts of her brother Cam who the world lost to suicide have often been the undoing of my day... sometimes my week. Her love and pain is so palpable that I feel like I have loved and lost him myself.

But she's more than that. Through her, at times, debilitating grief she still manages to give something back to the world. Her work with World Vision is so important and the voice she gives them is inspiring. Her heart is generous even though it is crippled.

And if that's not reason enough for me to worship love her, wait until you see her crusade against the sexist bastards who run Wicked Campers.

Am I gushing? Maybe a little bit. But here's the thing. I've got a blog-crush on Eden. She is beautiful and her soul leaps across her words and her heart and shines out of her face. The seven minutes that we chatted (and hugged!) was the highlight of Problogger for me. I don't think it's because I'm star struck 'cause I met lots of other blogging idols of mine while I was there. I think it's because as you get older and wiser you understand the value of honesty and vulnerability and authenticity. 

And Eden, with a capital E, is all of those things all of the time. 

So long 2014...

So it’s the end of another year and the new one is looming. This one’s been a big one, but then they all are. My boys turned 7 and 9 blitzed it at school. I raised a lot of money for cancer research and welcomed a new God-daughter to my family. My little sister turned 21, I had breakfast with Mark Bouris, I spent more than I earned, I danced, I laughed and I yelled. Oh, and my mother-in-law moved in with us. Let’s not speak of that. 

I returned to part-time work in earnest and seem to have found my happy place but it has taken my time away from personal blogging quite a bit. Still, I managed to belt out a few and I thought I’d put a list of the most read together for you to read over your holidays.

The one about loving someone who is depressed

The one where I declare there's nothing wrong with an ordinary life

The one where Stefan vomited all over the floor

The one where I come up with as many reasons as possible that women want to have sex

The one about Fakebook

The one about what it's like to love a 9 year old boy

The one about my missing pelvic floor

Thank you for sticking with me. I know I haven't been around much lately but I still love this gig and you too, faithful reader. I hope you have a sensational new year and I promise to write more!!

Happy New Year Seventies Babies.

Love Tan xx

Happy 1st Birthday Seventies Baby

When I started blogging, I had two objectives. To write, which has always been a kind of therapy for me, and to share. As my 'voice' developed, I discovered something amazing. There is magic in the story. There is magic in me.  

"The stranger who tells our stories when we cannot speak not only awakens our spirits and hearts but also shows our humanity"   Mende Proverb, Sierra Leone

I always get a little bit nostalgic on birthdays, so I have spent the morning re-reading my stories and I thought I'd share a selection of my favourite posts from the last year that you may have missed or may just like to revisit.

1. My first post - the one about mums at school.

2. 50 Shades of Twilight - the one I had the most fun writing... [warning: involves anal plugs and nipple clamps]

3. Make My Day - the one that I go a bit mental in.

4. While you were sleeping - the one that makes me cry a little bit when I read it.

5. 10 Parenting Rules - the one that went viral.

6. Dear Men - the one where I write about dry-humping.

7. Stretch-mark Swagger - the one about my thighs.

Do you have a favourite? Is there a story you'd like me to tell?

I am woman. Hear me raw.

Today

I am a working mum. My days follow a strict routine which involves ‘just another 10 minutes’ in bed every morning, regardless of what time I wake up. Those 10 minutes feel like those delicious stolen moments with a lover... but better because I’m alone in the bed and I can stretch out and remember my days when I didn’t have ‘a side’. In those 10 minutes I lament the too few hours sleep preceding them and dread the rat-race following them. I mentally check through my wardrobe and decide what I’m going to wear and hope to god that I’ve washed it and if I have, hope that I have hung it up and not left it in the washing basket. It is the only quiet time I will have to myself all day.

There are boys to be dressed and teeth to be brushed. Bags to be packed and lunches to be made. Husbands to send off and make-up to be slapped on. School to be walked to and teachers to touch base with. Meat to defrost and washing to be put on. Emails to answer and coffee to make. Traffic to negotiate and cars to be parked.

Then a day of work which, most days, is good but some days is not.

Followed by errands to be run and calls to be made. Appointments to squeeze in and dinner to be cooked. Washing to be hung out and coffee to make. School to be walked to and bags to unpack. After school snacks to prepare and homework to be helped with. Sports to be driven to and tables to be set. Baths to be run and stories to read. Dishes to be done and washing to put away. Uniforms to lay out and beds to collapse in.

It is gruelling and draining and gratifying and real.

Yesterday

I was a stay at home mum. My days didn’t follow any routine and I was almost totally at the mercy of my sons’ needs. Breastfeeding on demand. Tiptoeing around the house at nap-time. Scraping soggy teething rusks off the carpet. Rinsing off poo on sheets/clothes/cushion covers. Throwing out bibs that had mashed banana on them ‘cause that shit just does not come out in the wash. Toilet training. Manners training. Sleep training. Rich play. Fine motor skill development. Gross motor skill development. Socialisation. 

Some days time would stand still and I would wait, desperately for the husband to come home so I could turn myself off for 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes to not be the one who had to pick up the crying baby. Just 10 minutes to be alone and not feel guilty for the pleasure that would fill my bones to be quiet. And still. Other days time would steal my life away and I would despair that I didn’t have longer to float in the wonder of seeing the world through the new eyes of my baby. I would feel it slip through my fingers as I traced ‘round and round the garden’ on chubby little hands. I would watch it run away as I delighted in seeing those first, wobbly steps. I would look up, after feeling like I had only just sent the husband off to work to see him return and watch my son run to his arms. Happy to see another face. Eager to tell fresh ears about his day. And I would wish for just another 10 minutes to be alone with my boy.

It was exhausting and demanding and rewarding and real.

Long ago

Before I was any kind of mum I was a girl. Those days were all about me. They were about finding my place in the world and deciding where my world was. It was about working and partying and loving and earning and yearning. It was about learning. And the only real way to learn is to fail. So it was about failing too. It was about heartache. It was about self doubt. And it was about wonder. There were no 10 minute increments in those days. Going out for coffee lasted for hours. There was no grocery shopping. If I needed anything, I picked it up on the way home from work. There was only clothes shopping. Phone calls lasted all night on a phone with an extra long cord which would reach all the corners of my unit and never ran out of battery. Friendships were the most important relationships in my world. Other people’s children were to be seen, not heard. Mothers were to be ignored. Boys were to be toyed with. Washing was to be done in the middle of the night and hung out on the backs of chairs. Dancing was to be done. All night.

It was arduous and confronting and fulfilling and real.

Every day

Throughout it all I have been me. I have not always known who I am but I have been defiantly ‘me’ nonetheless. All my life stages are real. All my chapters are fulfilling. All my dreams are valid. All my pains are confronting. Being single and childless was tough. Being a stay at home mum was demanding. Being a working mum is challenging. The next path I travel down will also test me.  Each life stage presents something new to learn and overcome and enjoy. 

My journey is not unique. My lessons are not new. You may relate. You may disagree. You may learn. You may cringe. You may just quietly be thankful that someone else is struggling to get it all right too.

I will laugh. I will sob. I will exalt. I will grieve. I will succeed. I will fail. 

I will live.

It’s my story and I will share.

I am woman. Hear me raw.

Before blogs there were diaries

Here's my first diary entry, from 12 year old Tania.


I have copied it verbatim [including spelling errors]. The bracketed text in blue are 40 year old Tania's 'special comments'.


Enjoy x


Tuesday 15 January 1985


Today I went to Ilka's to stay the night. I got there and we stuffed around a bit. [I haven't used 'stuffed around' for ages... may bring that out again] Then we set up the tent that we were to sleep in that night. We had curry for tea and white chocolate mousse for dessert.[that's a Facebook status update right there] Then Ilka found some sparklers and we lit them and went to stop cars on Bray Street. We got home and readied ourself for bed. [readied ourself? Even back then I thought someone would want to read my stuff.. maybe my English teacher] We sat in the tent, stuffing our faces with chocolate & chips and told each other about ex boyfriends etc.[ex boyfriends - plural - at the age of 12. Already making our mothers proud] We tried to get to sleep but couldn't so we decided to make obsene noises and pretend that I was the boy and she was the girl.[as you do] We finally did get to sleep but woke up more than several times in the night. I'm really glad I've got Ilka as a friend. I really love being with her. [to this very day]