And to think, I used to be a librarian

Now, we’ve just spent a few months living on the favours of others, and so perhaps I am more sensitive to this than I need to be, but my children do seem to be extraordinarily noisy. Staying in and visiting other people’s houses and spaces means I’ve spent a lot of time on edge, trying to make sure we’ll be invited back and/or not evicted on account of their exuberance.

Why the school opened this week I will never know, given that the end of Ramadan and thus, the Eid holiday is now upon us, which means another five days of me and them, but this time with the added bonus of heat. And me, once again noticing that my children do seem to be extraordinarily noisy.

Good morning

I’m reading Orhan Pamuk’s The Museum of Innocence a book I most highly recommend, though perhaps not as something to be taken on the plane as it is, on its own, the size of a small suitcase and most certainly does not fit into the pocket in front of your seat.

Anyway, this morning, I woke at 5.30 – not to run in a vertical marathon, but because my body is still on Australian time – and picked up my book. I was rewarded with this reference back to the book’s most excellent opening sentence:

In fact no one recognizes the happiest moment of their lives as they are living it. It may well be that, in a moment of joy, one might sincerely believe that they are living that golden instant “now”, even having lived such a moment before, but whatever they say, in one part of their hearts they still believe in the certainty of a happier moment to come. Because how could anyone, and particularly anyone who is still young, carry on with the belief that everything could only get worse: If a person is happy enough to think he has reached the happiest moment of his life, he will be hopeful enough to believe his future will be just as beautiful, more so

Which was astonishingly close to my experiences yesterday only in the complete reverse. I survived yesterday by recognising, at around 8.30 am, that this was it. Between now and the end of the year, this was as unhappy as I was likely to be. Tired, jetlagged, hot, helping children find their new classrooms and both of them separated from all of last year’s friends, no coffee in the cupboard at home. This was the worst it would get.

I think that is why, at the end of the day I sat on the lounge not happy, but not unhappy either.

Thursday morning

‘Mum.’ The door is pushed gently open, the words are whispered.
‘Yes?’
‘Have you started?’
‘Yes.’
‘So that’s what you look like when you’re meditating.’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, okay. See you in ten minutes.’
Closes door softly, then runs down passage yelling, ‘She’s doing it. She’s really meditating.’

It’s just over a week before we leave Adelaide and return to Abu Dhabi. In anticipation of this event, I have been practising mindfulness, awareness, gratitude and have, after a great number of years of thinking, ‘I really must get back to that’ returned to meditation.

Now, according to all of the self help books I’ve read over the last six months (and if there’s one I haven’t read, I’d be surprised), this mindfulness, in the momentness, this too shall pass kind of approach is just the trick for getting through stressful times and situations. And I think at this stage we can agree that living in Abu Dhabi is stressful for me.

I’m not too bad at being in the moment and so on (yes, yes, I know I’m not supposed to be judgmental about it, where I am is where I am and so on), but I’ve got one piece of logic that I just can’t work my way through. The question I keep asking is this: if I can be content at anytime anywhere, then why do I know that I am, overall and on balance and weighing everything up, happier here than I can ever be there.

There’s a long stretch from here til enlightenment. And hopefully enlightenment can be achieved without silence.

Wednesday morning

We had a movie night last night and watched Wayne’s World. I am shocked to discover that my children managed to learn a new swear word. Honestly, I thought by now they knew them all.

It’s raining again, which is nice and not complaining and so on and so forth, but the lads are starting to go a bit stir crazy with no proper runaround for a few days now.

Manuscript going okay, thanks for asking. The draft won’t be finished by the time I leave, but it won’t be too far off. Must. Finish. Draft. Twould be easier without two stir-crazed lads under my charge that’s for sure, but since a major theme of the book is ‘how it is, is how it is’ I’m taking a bit of my own advice, and accepting the imperfections of life. Plan is, one day I shall accept all and shout never.

Tuesday morning

Do you know the longer it goes on, the more calm I feel about the whole thing. The thought of Tony Rabbit as Prime Minister is still making me fall to the ground in a dizzy heap, but by and large I’m feeling okay with it all today. I was living in New Zealand when MMP was first introduced and when the first election was held, and we were waking up every morning to the news that another person had left their party to start their own, and the world didn’t end, it really didn’t.

There’s still two weeks before we go back to Abu Dhabi and the lads go back to school. That’s two weeks to finish off this draft and get the lads up to speed with their times tables. We’re off to a very lazy start today. Even eldest lad didn’t wake up until 8.30 this morning. It’s good, we can all use a bit of a rest. We’ve been having a wonderfully sociable time these last few weeks. ‘Who are we seeing today?’ eldest boy asked yesterday and was shocked when I said, ‘No one’.

Just now, as I walked out of the kitchen my plate of toast and cup of coffee in hand, youngest lad called after me, ‘Where are you going Mum?’ and I called, ‘Back to bed’. And now they’ve pulled out the car track and I’ve fired up the computer and I reckon I’ll get an hour’s work done. As soon as I’ve finished this coffee.

Some days, it is very cool being us, and today is one of those days.

Friday morning

My dad used to like saying, ‘A wise old man once told me you can bet on the horses, but never bet on the way people will vote’.

So, although I’ve got a feeling in my bones and in my waters, I’m holding my cards close to my chest, and also sticking my head in the sand.

In the meantime, the mister is on the banks of the Limpopo River where I am sure it is not all powerpoints and spreadsheets. Another place he would never have guessed he was going to be.

We’ve got more clarity about our Abu Dhabi exit strategy now which has involved no small amount of angst and over-thinking. Well, the mister’s departure date is clear, although, because of reasons, I’m not exactly sure when I’ll be leaving Abu Dhabi for good. I’m still in Adelaide, and the mister tells me that he is telling people, ‘I won’t be surprised if tracy doesn’t come back to Abu Dhabi at all.’ Just in case I don’t. Which I will, but I can see why he might think that I won’t.