Anyone else tired of being frugal?

Is anyone else out there tired of being frugal?

It's like the unspoken elephant in the room sometimes when I'm talking to other frugal-types. Not just the pissing contest type conversations about who's more frugal, but the genuine frustrations of needing to do x and only having y options because of frugality, poverty, or ambition.

This thought started when I got sick of our toilet paper. It's not the cheapest, but I thought it was a good compromise between tissue-paper thin and the uber expensive, while also being a little bit green. But one time too many of having to ration the paper so that I got enough coverage without taking 2m of the stuff made me realise that I wish I didn't have to make these decisions. That I sometimes wish money wasn't an issue.

I am happy to buy a greener product.
I'm happy to buy a larger pack at a lower unit cost, or a different brand to see if there's a cheaper alternative.
Or even, a more expensive brand that is something else I value - locally made, or without x or y.

But what I'm tired of is the penny-pinching just to get by. We're not destitute or poor but going on 5 years of student-ship means we're close to the bone while still achieving some savings goals. And that means making the tough decisions about toilet paper.

Ok woe is me - first world privilege, I has it. I am able to make these decisions. I am able to choose what toilet paper I buy, and opt for one over the other so that money flows elsewhere in our budget.

But in the meantime, I will enjoy the trappings of my life and ponder whether this is why some people go off the rails. Whether we all need a little "thing" in our frugality that means we don't go crazy. For me it's dried spices. I buy them, and I use them generously. Others might scrimp on what they use, how much they use, when they use it or don't use it or what they cook. I also buy and use nice tea and collect tea things (pots and cups).

I do know though that this kind of stress can turn into something more than toilet paper. And living on our budget at the moment means that when I start working professionally we'll be well set to save and prosper. And that these habits are those that self-made rich people use to get the most out of each dollar.

But sometimes, I wish for nice loo paper.

Grow where you are planted

It can be so hard to look on the bright side of life when there are so many other places you would like to be. And "if life hands you lemons, make lemonade" doesn't really describe it. It's not about making the best of a bad situation. It's not about being happy with wanting something, getting something just as functional but not ideal, and making something! even! better! out of it.

It's all very Biblical of me to draw on this proverb as it is from Corinthians. And there is lots of interpretation of it on the webs about the Biblical approach to this but that's not where I'm coming from, although it does show that (a) I heard this somewhere, (b) some aspects of Christianity are universal and (c) it is universal.

But when it comes down to it, the take-home message is that adverse life-situations need not prevent you from having a successful and fulfilling life.

There are lots of things in my life right now that I don't like because they are situations that are not what I want, and not where I'm happy. Physically I am troubled by my lack of (not being able to do the couch-to-5k program that got me started in running 7 years ago, and that people who are less motivated, less fit, less driven, less experienced, less pigheaded, have taken up and wah! I want to be able to do that even though I hated running and am not athletic) fitness, I am flailing because I am not finished my (degree of doom with vague scents of a groundhog day) studies, I'm sick of being a student and not having income when I'm putting effort into my life, and so on. I'm tired of working at Bunnings - I'm something (ashamed? embarassed? amazed?) about the fact that my longest employment has been at mininum wage in a position that I've gone nowhere in, because it was never a 5 year plan to be there.

But this in part clouds the rest of my life, where I am happy. I have a good marriage, a healthy fabulous child, earning capacity, a future to work towards and look forward to, a roof over my head, access to so many things that are first-world, and so much potential.

So it's not that I have lemons, and need to make the best of it. It's deeper than that. It's about being in a situation, planted somewhere specific, and having to not just get by. Not just dwell on the momentary need to make lemonade, but to put down roots and bloom.

And that's what I'm doing with this placement. It's not where I want to be with my midwifery - I want to work with women who trust their bodies, who understand what they're doing, who embrace and celebrate the journey, and joyously welcome labour and birth. But I am doing good things on my placement. I have identified what I want to learn from it and I'm learning. I'm stepping up and using the skills I have to support women in their chosen birth. I'm good at what I do and I have had to choose to bloom where I am planted.

The inside story on childcare

Sally's been going to childcare 1-2 days a week for a few weeks now. And I thought I'd post the "why" and "whatfor" of what it means for me. Not in a defensive way either - this is, surprisingly enough, not a rant at anyone for a change. Maybe motherhood has tempered me.

Bwahahahaha. Hardly.

So yesterday she was at childcare as well but I spent the day running around doing errands. Hardly a pleasant day to be honest, or maybe it was a pleasant day but not enough to outweigh not having my babe around. We got up early, which meant Sally didn't get her extra hour's "night" sleep after motoring around for an hour. We showered together, then I dropped her at childcare, collected a lens that's on loan to me for a birth, had a remedial massage, had lunch at the markets to celerbate Chinese New Year with some girlfriends and their childers, went to Lincraft and picked Sally up. It was hot and humid! and then I had to go to work. Somewhere in there I also went to Target to collect a layby and buy new shorts as well. Way easier without a small to get in and out of the car, and carry around, and feed, change and entertain, no doubt about it. But it is also not my life at the moment.

Today however, we woke up, had a play, motored around, then Sally went down for a nap while I sorted out 5 baskets of washing. It is my pet HATE of housework - folding washing. Sally was up after an hour, we showered and packed up and I took her to childcare a little later than usual. A phonecall interrupted the drive but I spoke to my husband, who I didn't even see awake yesterday. Childcare dropoff was fine and I had a lovely chat with one of her carers. I walked out into the humid! weather and went home.

I'm now watching Secret Diary of a Call Girl, drinking hot tea and eating a biscuit. I am also blogging which I don't get to do much with a small at my feet. I have plans to have a coffee date with my husband this afternoon before we collect Sally from childcare. I know she's safe and happy there for a few hours today and this morning was a good connection so she is extra happy. I am doing what I want without interruption.

That's what mother's work is. Interruption. I can't do anything without interruption. Most of the time that is fine but uninterrupted sleep, hobby'ing, cleaning that cupboard that was grotty but I haven't had a chance to wipe over, painting my toenails - that's what I miss about the BC era (before childerbeast). Most of the time I can be piqued about it momentarily and then get on with the job, as anyone would. But when I'm stressed about Life, it helps to know that I can recharge the batteries just a little.

And if that's what childcare is to me - a chance to recharge - then I'm paying for the privilege anyways. I don't have parentals closeby to help out. I don't have friends who I can leave Sally with "just" so I can recharge. And until you've been a parent you don't, won't understand what it is to be empty and need a recharge. Needs some self-nurturing. Needs to just do. my. own. THING! for a few minutes, and stop when I want to, not to tend to a boo or feed a mouth or water a babe or do anything. Or do something because I want to. To recharge and nurture myself.

Who nurtures the nurturer if not... well, whom? Who helps me when I'm dealing with my own demons and angsts, and stresses and abrasions on my soul and I have to give so much to someone else. The days or weeks when I have stuff to deal with (alas, another post) I feel myself short with Sally. Cranky when she won't co-operate with my ridiculous and unfair expectations, like going to sleep. Upset that I can't be, do more for her. Upset at what I am and do for her already maybe not being enough.

And with that, I'm going to reclaim my kitchen, and clean that cupboard that's been annoying me.

Thinking about food and my childhood

Well how's that for a specific post title.

I am in the mood for some simple cooking today. So I had a look on the interwebs for a recipe and found one from my childhood - Weetbix and marshmallow slice. And that's what I'm going to do in a minute once lunch is ready. I am amazed that none of my friends have ever heard of what I think of as a quintiscential Australian food (Weetbix slice that is) so maybe I'll convince them?

It got me thinking (again) about food that I ate as a child. Handmade bread, lots of meat-and-three-veg, lots of eggs, and pikelets, and beef stroganoff, and nasi goreng from a box, lasagne from homemade bolognese, tinned two fruit and icecream, meatloaf, chicken legs, gluten steaks, gluten patties in tomato sauce, Anzac biscuits, ... it goes on.

With the move away from eating at home and towards eating out, where we tend to eat the Same Dish regardless of where we eat, and where eating different cuisine is not the indulgence it used to be.

Oh look - it's a privelege example. Again.

Flowers and tools

Why is it that every new hobby I want to start, or interest I have, requires me to buy new tools? Yeesh. I've started some gardening and now I consider it probably necessary to replace the watering can that is cracked at the bottom, and with cake making I feel that I would like things to make decorations with. And to learn to make pretty flowers like frangipanis.

It comes back to priviledge in my mind, something which Kate at Craftastrophies has had me thinking about more recently. So many things with crafting come with priviledge, a surprisingly difficult word to spell. Here are a few:

• Access to skills through books, internet, shops and so forth - I don't have to find an artisan to teach me, or work it out for myself.
• I can read. I have experience with the technology associated with accessing information. That makes it very easy to just decide, on a whim, to learn how to do something.
  
• I have time to do these things - it is not taken up acquiring energy, water, healthcare, education etc.
  
• I also have money to do what is basically entertainment - it's certainly not a crucial life skill.
  
• It is socially acceptable for me to do what I want with my time, money and self, and it is not dictacted by my gender, class, caste or religion.

Silent abuse - triggers, and a post in which I get rambly

Something different for today - a post about abuse. I've spent the past couple of months with a foam sling on my L arm when I'm at work, because I work at the House of Bun (a hardware store) and I have 1kg lifting restrictions on my arm, so I can't use it, but unless it's tied up, I tend to use it and it gets sore and I get really really grumpy.

By the way - Panadol Osteo is my best friend. Slow release paracetemol is the best for pain like I've got (joint pain) and I highly recommend that you talk to your GP about it if you have an ongoing issue. It reduces the overall amount of drugs that I'm taking and makes me less foul tempered and mouthed.

So anyway - the number of times people cracked jokes to me about my partner beating me and that's why I was in a sling. Why do people think that joking about domestic violence is amusing? There are lots of forms of overt abuse as well as a few that are "silent" - an article I came across recently about this really opened my eyes to the fact that a lot of what I went through as a child and teenager was this kind of abuse. It worries me a lot that I might fall into that cycle because I don't know how to deal otherwise with people. I'm very conscious of it now, especially in my close personal relationships, as I am worried about repeating the mistakes of the past, especially as I consider procreating.

On that line and in the vein of this is my blog and I can cry if I want to, I got contacted by my mother yesterday with her usual passive aggressive crap of "I have something for you let's meet up"... and this time, she also said that she had some things that she wanted to say to me and so maybe she'd email me. Now the quick among you will have noticed that she didn't say that she wanted to talk to me, or discuss things with me, or anything like that - she has some things to say to me. Unless they are very specific apologies for past wrongs, and a change in how she deals with a specific family member, then I am not the least bit interested in hearing what she has to say. Not the least bit interested in stirring up past hurts and incidents. Not the least bit interested in picking off scabs from wounds THAT HAVE HEALED in whatever fashion I have had to. And not the least bit interested in hearing her side of the story because I don't care whether there is a side to it other than my own. I just don't.

Skeletons and closets - that's a match made in heaven.

We are, generally speaking, a product of our past. We integrate things that have happened. We learn, and we move on. The moving on bit is REALLY important for our sanity, and for shaping who we are. Not who we were, or who we want to be in the future - but who we are right this freaking second. And given that I've been to two funerals in the past week and have had a crap day with my shoulder and physio, and am still not back at work, and am broke because of this, and am distressed enough without having to deal with 28 years of "things what made me Me", I politely messaged my mother with "thankyou but I don't need anything from you and don't think I want to hear what you have to say, so please don't email me".

And spent the next five minute crying. Just because I've made peace with not having my mother in my life doesn't mean that the pain of it goes away. It's taken me a LONG time to get to this point even, where I don't feel obliged to have anything to do with her - but I still feel that societal and probably primal requirement to have something to do with my dam. And knowing that she is not going to change, and that having her back in my life is just going to hurt and suck even more, makes me strong enough to send messages that make me want to throw up.

But being brave is not being terrified - it's about being terrified and still doing them. So I guess that makes me brave.