26/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola: Someone lost her first tooth. And won an award for "wonderful improvement in reading and writing." She turns six this week. Oh, my.

Pearl: Her negotiating skills are mind-boggling. "I'm going to do three lullabies." "Four." "OK, four, but only four." "Ten. Do ten." "Four, Pearl." Ten lullabies later...

Stella: When she sneezes, she tells me she has the bless-you's.

Previous 52 portraits here.

Housekeeping

School holidays are upon us. That means visitors and trips away, swimming lessons and a very special birthday (six!). A break from routine.

I continue to unpack and rearrange, slowly and with a lot of procrastination. I calculated this is the 22nd home I've lived in in my life (not counting the student dorm in Wollongong, the staff digs on South Molle Island, various couches in London, a motorhome at the back of a hotel in central Scotland, the Berlin backpackers I worked and lived at for three months, and my very generous sister's place several times over in my 20s.) That's a lot of newspaper and cardboard.

Rumour has it Google Reader is on its last legs. You can follow Typically Red at Bloglovin' by clicking here. There's the staight-into-your-inbox option over there on the right. Or stay up to date with blog and shop happenings on Facebook. I'm also (intermittently) on Instagram now too. 

I think that may be everything...what was that I said about procrastination?

Have a lovely weekend. A little sunshine would be nice, yes?

Outside :: Inside

Outside it's wet. It's been raining for three nights and three days. Rivers run alongside roads, and across them in places. We fall asleep to the rhythmic drumming on the red tin roof, and wake up late because it's so dark it doesn't feel like morning.

Inside we sift through boxes and rearrange our stuff against a new backdrop. I'm awaiting the courier's delivery that will mean I can begin work again, and in the meantime I drink coffee, knit special orders and type up recipes that are overdue for submission.

It's true, life does roll on.

25/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola: She informs me that an orange is made entirely of juice. "What about those bits?" I ask, pointing at the flesh and pith. "Oh, that's just chewy juice."

Pearl: Deep in discussion about how to deal with scary foxes, her sister suggested hair pulling. "No, Stella, they're too delicate."

Stella: I asked her for the 10th time tonight to please stop talking and go to sleep. And 10 times, she continued on in a whisper without pausing for breath.

Previous 52 portraits here.

Solo Trip

My marriage hasn't ever been a huge part of this blog. When all of this online world has seemed full to overflowing with loving relationships and supportive partnerships, couples who have each other's  backs, two-person teams shovelling the gritty stuff together at the coal face, I've found myself tongue-tied and with little to contribute.

I've presented to you a joyful world in which beautiful, happy children frolic in the fresh country air, eating fresh-baked delights and wearing mumma-made clothes.  I've leapt out in pursuit of creative fulfilment, trying to turn business dreams into reality. I've taken lots and lots of pretty pictures. I've thrown humour at it, used big words and neatly constructed sentences. I've tried to give you something of myself without ever giving you the truth of it.

That truth being that my marriage has failed and I've walked away. I just can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore.

Tonight is the third night in my new home, and the first without my girls. I'm a single parent now, but I'm also a part-time parent. And I'm not sure they've invented the words yet for how that reality makes me feel.

And yet, and yet...

My marriage hasn't ever been a huge part of this blog and I'm pretty sure the end of it won't be either.  It'll continue to be me and my girls, just painted with different brushstrokes. They're far from the ones I ever imagined back on that shiny white-dress day. But it's our story now. It's my story now.

And I'm going to make sure it's a bloody good one.

Thank you for your beautiful comments of concern after my last post, and to those of you who contacted me via email to check up on me. I am OK. I am surrounded by incredible friends and the unwavering support of my family. I have deep faith in my own resilience and a relentless optimism that rarely lets me down. I promised my babies that everything is going to be just fine, and it will be.

24/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Previous 52 portraits here.

23/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola, Pearl, Stella...shhhh, they're sleeping.

Previous 52 portraits here.

Light

There is much going on beyond the knitting and blogging and enormous morning-tea making. Real life stuff. Altogether unpleasant stuff. Stuff I can't go into here, at least not yet. If things are quiet for a while, that is why. 

In the meantime, I'll remind myself that even in the dim light of early winter, there are sparkly things to be found...if you remember to look.

Two Little Monkeys...

..bouncing on the bed.

22/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola: She refers to exclamation marks as 'excitement marks'. I totally understand!!!

Pearl: This week, instead of clinging and weeping, she smiled and waved goodbye when I left her at preschool.

Stella: "Is that one of them cock-a-doody-doody things?" she inquired, pointing to a picture of a chicken.

Previous 52 portraits here.