The road less travelled

I was all fired up to begin the new year with a zesty post full of vim and vigour. But a funny thing happened on the way to this post. I got all relaxed. Seriously.

Last week, Fam Fibro took off for an unexpected, unplanned (heavens, hold the presses) summer break with friends. To the Snowy Mountains. Yes, in summer. I've written a lot of articles over the years in my other guise as a finance writer about how the best budget family holidays are had when you go against the flow. To the coast in winter. To the mountains when the weather is warm. I'd never before followed my own advice (on this and a legion of other finance subjects). But, you know what? I recommend it.

The weather is cooler. The roads are clearer. Accommodation is plentiful and reasonably priced. The hills are alive - with wildlife, wildflowers and an occasional burst of song. We took Mr4 and Mr7* on a 4km hike up Australia's highest mountain and discovered that Mr4 forgets his weary legs and unhappy self when singing a song as he walks. (All together now: Oh The Grand old Duke of York...)

We arrived back home yesterday. Shattered. Our relaxing break had exhausted us so much that there was no movement in the Fibro, from anyone, until after 9am. The Builder and I are tired. We discussed this over breakfast. And came to the conclusion that this is what relaxation feels like.

We nearly didn't recognise it.

*Some housekeeping matters: to keep things simple, and because their birthdays are around this time, all children get new names. Mr6 is now the lofty Mr7; Mr3 takes a big step to Big Boy status and becomes Mr4. I'm going to miss Misters 6 and 3. They were such fun. But I'm sure the new guys will also keep me on my toes.

Don't bother me, I'm bathing

If you believe the media, the bath is the last retreat for mothers. Tired? Have a bath. Stressed? Have a bath. Kids driving you mad? Have a bath. Housework getting you down? Have a bath. Having trouble juggling work/home/family/life? Have a bath. There is nothing, it seems, that cannot be cured by closing the door and pouring an essential oil upon troubled waters.

Bath humbug.

I like a bath. I do. I'm just out of one right now. No essential oils - the best we stretch to in the Fibro at present is the one-litre economy-sized Space Bubbles mix. Lots of bubbles. Kid friendly. Smells like bath water. Still, it's not like I didn't make an effort. But I do have one bone to pick with the 'a bath will solve all your troubles' brigade.

Bath toys.

How is a mother supposed to relax in her bathing sanctuary when she is sharing head-room with a small flotilla of dank boats? How is she supposed to light a candle and lie back and think of nothing (and we all know I'm not that great at that bit anyway), when there is a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figure poised to leap down on her from the tap? How, oh how, is she supposed to get into the whole relaxation mode when she has to clear four aeroplanes, a Batman figure, three cups of assorted sizes, a couple of bubble blowers, a water pistol or two, Ben 10's skateboard and a plastic syringe from the bath before she can fill it?

Everything but the duck.

We have tried many methods of corralling the bath toys. We have strung them up in a net affixed with suction cups. Not enough suction. We have stashed them in plastic boxes, from which they quickly escape. We have culled and re-culled and culled again. Still they breed.

So, yes, here I am, fresh from my bath. Am I relaxed? Am I feeling ready to juggle the work/home/family/life conundrum? No. I am too tired from juggling bath toys.

PS: How cute is this image? It's from barkingbirdart's etsy store, a limited-edition print. Love it!

Hitting the high notes: I like to sing

When it comes to relaxation, I'm not an A student. I've tried yoga - it made me angry. My friend L, long time yogi, informed me that this was good. That I was physically venting my spleen. Strange, I thought I was just cross because it hurt so damn much and my teacher was insistent that I hold my poses much longer than I thought was humanly possible. Like five seconds or something.

I've tried meditating. It made me realise that my mind is very, very noisy. Concentrating on the space between my eyebrows proved difficult. Mostly because there's not a lot of space there. Just noise. I did learn one thing, though - that I should never, ever sign up for one of those 10-day 'no speakies' meditating workshops. I could very easily drive myself crazy.

Usually, if I'm feeling a bit anxious or uptight or stressed, I walk. Miles, if necessary. Something about the rhythm of it allows me to work through my current crisis and I often find that I can dream up some ideas or an interesting plot point at the same time. This only works, however, if I'm on my own. Walking with Mr3, for example, is like meditating. Very noisy. Only the noise is coming from outside my mind, not inside.

Tonight, I went back to choir. I've had a couple of terms off, for various reasons, but today I was hit with a sudden desire to return. I'm so glad I did. I feel soothed. There is something about hitting a few high notes (and even a few off notes) that relaxes me in a way few things do. It is impossible to worry about anything when you're trying to learn a new song. You can't sing soprano without breathing deeply and often, and you don't have to think about it too much. And there is the pure joy of just letting it all out. Melodically speaking, of course.

I climbed into my car for the journey home and thought carefully about my soundtrack. I needed something I knew and could belt out, but not something too loud. I have been reading Together Alone, Jeff Apter's biography of Tim and Neil Finn. It's a story I've long been fascinated by - so much talent in one family, so many opportunities for sibling rivalry. I've always thought Neil Finn a genius, but have realised in reading the book that I have under-appreciated Tim's contribution to Australian music. All of which is a long-winded way of saying that I chose a best of Crowded House CD and drove home singing harmony with Neil.

In some ways, the car singing and shower singing I do are just as therapeutic as the choir, though without the camaraderie, or the sheer two-hour intensity that the choir offers. I do my best performances in the car or shower, though. No pressure. Never under-prepared. It doesn't matter if I forget the words (which, given my memory, is something I often do).

I have arrived back in Choir Land at just the right time of year, though. We will soon begin our Christmas Carol preparations and, unfashionable as it is, I just love singing Christmas Carols.

All in the name of relaxation, of course.

Are you a singer (be it car/shower/choir/karaoke/covers band)? What do you love to sing?


{image: etsy/annarubyking}