A Little Moment of Truth

Before I started this blog, I did a lot of research. I had a list of favourite blogs that I visited most days and enjoyed discovering new ones to add to it. I loved that their authors had the power to make me feel inspired and passionate about the things that I already loved to do - writing, taking photos, crafts, cooking and enjoying precious moments with the people that I love, my son, my parents, my sister and friends.

A precious moment with my baby sis!

After the initial set up of my blog, I wanted to get started straight away - and what better place to start than the 'About Me' section; but you know what? I was stumped and I couldn't believe it! How hard was it to write something about myself, a few words? I know myself better than anyone, so why was I having so much trouble?

I read other bloggers 'About Me' sections and the more that I read, the more intimidated I felt and started asking myself why someone would even bother to read my blog - especially if I couldn't even sum up into a couple of sentences who I am and what I'm about.

This is one of my favourite quotes; I feel inspired just by lookin at it {which is why I have a framed copy on my wall!}. I found it on Pinterest.

 I must have read one hundred 'About Me' sections from random blogs, written by females from all over the world. They were all summed up perfectly; their sentences were so beautifully constructed and their photos were dreamlike and whimsical. These women were perfect mothers, wives, crafters / cooks / photographers / writers and bloggers, with clean, tidy homes, sculpted gardens, organised workspaces and their children never had tanties. They always had happy dispositions and never seemed to struggle with anything. They were perfect women with perfect lives and it was all wrapped up in a pretty pink bow, showcased through their blogs. I felt really out of my depth, because I thought that those were the requirements that I needed to posess, in order to make a read-worthy blog.

Then one day recently, I had an ephiphany. Those women, whose blogs I used to read on a daily basis - were by no means perfect. No body is; and life never is either. There are high points and low points. Those women were good at making themselves and their lives look perfect, but who is that helping because behind the smiling faces - when the camera stops flashing and their make-up is off, that is where the reality is. Is where the truth is. And that is what I want my blog to be. I want it to be real and true. Sure, I want to put up beautiful photos and create something inspirational and uplifting, but at the same time, I dont want anybody to think that I am always smiling or laughing {because I'm not}; or that my child never has tantrums {because I'm that mother carrying her screaming kid out of the toy section}; or that my house is always clean and tidy {you should see it today!}; or that I never burn my muffins {even making toast is a challenge these days};  because that is just not true. I have high points and low points. It's a pretty even flow actually, but the low points really make you apprecitate the high points and basque in them.

If looks could kill... I'd be one door-nail!

So, in saying all of that, here are some other truthes about me that I thought you should know before we go any further down this road.

• I struggle at the best of times to find the right words to say {in both English and French}. I never know what to say to anyone in moments of grief and find that a hug or a gesture is worth just as much, if not more than a few consoling words strung together.

I picked this bouquet of wild flowers for Mathieu's Grandpa, Julien, who passed away in the Summer of 2012. It was something that I wanted to do for him, because he was a farmer and he loved the rurual, rustic country. He was always so lovely to me. I still think about him and I still miss him.

• Although I love taking photos I will take hundreds just to get one good shot. I've only just learnt how to use my camera properly... and I've had it for over three years. My next challenge is learning how to use my iphone.

A very rare shot; a Cicada / Cigale emerging from it's skeleton. It was a really beautiful thing to watch!

• I'm not a perfect daughter, sister or friend. I try to be, but relationships are hard - a good hard, but still hard. I love my family to the moon and back and we are all really close and laugh a lot, but that doesn't mean that we dont fight. They are never huge, hateful fights and dont usually last longer than a day. I never understood people who could fight like that, especially with people that they love, that they are lucky to have. I'm so grateful for my family and have beautiful memories and stories because of them. They have been there through everything and even if they weren't holding my hand at the time, they were definitely holding my heart - and still are.

My beautiful family!

• As for being a Mama, I am no where near perfect! I do try to be the best that I can be for my son although I do make mistakes. Having Gabe changed my life and me in so many different ways. I felt like he filled a void that I always had in me. He has shown me a deeper, stronger love that I never even dreamed could exist and makes me strive to be a better human being.      

One of our favourite places.

• My relationship with Mathieu {Gabe's dad} is nowhere near perfect - in fact, it's in a very grey area and I cant even say for sure where it / we will be this time next year.

• My house is not always clean and tidy. In fact, I'm just happy if Gabe keeps even half of his toys off the floor. When it comes to cooking, I burn shit all the time. Since I've had Gabe, I actually think the birth fried my brain a little because I seem to have lost a portion of my cooking abilities and when recipes work out well, it's a fluke, or pot luck more than talent or anything else.

• As for the crafts that I do, these are things that I have experimented with over the years. I have so many hobbies, because I become interested in one thing and for weeks, it will consume me. I'll buy all the equipment that I need and books; I'll watch Youtube videos and start a project. Then, I will discover something new and the cycle will repeat itself before I have even finished the last project that I was working on.  I am also someone who gets in idea in my head of how I want something to be, and if something doesn't turn out exactly how I initially imagined it, I find it really hard to except it and even harder to try again. When I first started making soap, I had a lot of batches go rancid. I felt like I had really failed... then I realised, if I just give up, I will never suceed at anything; I will fail 'myself' more than anything else. So I kept going, and eventually things started to go right.

My home made Orange & Cinnamon soap - deliciosos!

And, that is my little moment of truth. Epiphanies and realisations are so important for growth and self development. Without them, you wont ever evolve into the beautiful creature that you are supposed to be.

A Different Kind of Journal

A few years ago, a friend suggested to me {via email} that I should start a blog and share with the world my quirky stories about my new french life in the south of France. At the time I laughed it off, but the idea stayed tucked away in the corners of my mind. 

At the top of a bell tower, looking over a village.

At that time, I had been living in France {permanently} for almost a year and was still trying to get my leg over that bi-lingual wall! The two years before that, I had been going back and forth between France and Australia chasing the summers and hiding from the cold. I had noticed a lot of cultural differences between the french and english-speakers, that I had not read about in any book. I grew to feel very frustrated with life in France, the french population {in general} and the fact that I could never escape the label of being a foreigner. I needed a place to vent my frustrations and write about the very unbelievable observations that still to this day, leave me at a loss for words. 

Picking melons after a run.

Back then, if I wasn’t planting seeds, picking melons, or working on a market, I would pass my time day-dreaming; writing in journals, and taking pictures of butterflies and wheat fields.

I love reading back through my journals and I still remember those quiet moments of solitude, when the world had stopped turning, so that I could be alone, in the moment with my thoughts. 

These butterflies are everywhere in summer!

A lot of the entries were about things that had happened at markets or on the farm, with Mathieu’s family. A lot were funny, jaw-dropping-OMG-did-that-really-happen moments; but a lot were also sad. I was extremely homesick and missing my beautiful family and friends, my beloved Sydney and wondering why the hell I came here in the first place… oh yeah, love.

My favourite city in the world!

It’s a really hard thing, moving to a foreign country; espescially when you have gone from a glistening, vibrant city - out to the sticks and where you don’t speak the language or understand the culture. It’s nearly impossible to be yourself when you cant make yourself understood. As time passes, you struggle to remember what you used be like – didn’t I used to be funny? 

Lavender field towards the lake at Esparron.

 I hated working on the markets. I felt constant angst because I couldn't understand a damn word that was being said to me! You would think that the process of buying a melon would be a simple one and trust me; only the French could complicate this situation. They would want to know the variety, the quality, the weight, is it good, is it sweet, how long it will last, do they keep it in the fridge, is it male, is it female, was it picked today, where is it grown, am I the producer, is it certified organic, is it grown in a tunnel or in a field??? The questions were endless and so was the humiliation of not being able to answer a single one!

A lot of the time, I would meet lovely people and once they understood that my French was not good, even non-existent, they would pull a little trick out of their hat and speak in English. I have discovered along my travels that most French people keep this one hidden up their sleeve. They would ask me how I wound up in France. They would listen contently to my reply, with warm smiles on their faces... 'I came here for love', I would say in my sweet, little, Aussie voice and they would buy some melons and be on their way. I loved meeting people like that, because the rest of the time, I met some not so lovely people, who fit every horrible stereo-type ever written about the French.

I would get home from the markets exhausted from listening to people and trying to decipher words and their meanings.

One grey day at Cotignac market, a woman in her mid 50's came to buy a melon. At first, she asked how much it was for one. I replied {in French}, 'It's 2€ for one, or 5€ for 3'... the smile on her face dropped to the ground when she heard my accent and she went on to ask me several questions, to which I did not understand and could not answer. She searched through her purse for a single 2€ coin, and before placing it in my hand, she said {in English}, 'It disgusts me that there are foreigners working in my country who can not even speak the language'! And with that, she pushed the coin into the palm of my hand, trying to avoid any actual contact with my skin and went on her way. 

The old caves at Cotignac.

I stood there in shock until she eventually disappeared into the crowd. As mean and as hurtful as she was, she actually did me a favour as she gave me the nudge that I needed to focus on learning the French language, all by myself. I went home that day, exhilerated and full of energy. I put labels all around the house with both the french and english word, if it was masculine or feminie and it's plural form. I was on fire and seeing them everyday, I started remembering.

Today, I speak quite well and have really progressed in the last three years or since my son, Gabe, was born. I am thankful that I met that woman, and when I think about her, I think about how far I have come since then.

Learning to speak another langauge has been my greatest challenge and my greatest achievement, however, it is no longer my greatest obstacle... being a Mother is. But, that is something that I cherish more than anything else. And you can see why!

The Boy!

Reading back over those journals from years ago, I have changed a lot. My feelings, my way of thinking; I feel all grown up. These days, I am one of the locals and a Mama. I don’t write in journals anymore {well, I guess this blog is kind of a journal} – but I still day-dream and take pictures of butterflies & wheat fields.