Real and true life.

So we came out of the desert and landed in Darwin. The girls had had enough of gorges and waterfalls and bush walks for a while and wanted to do some real life stuff.

The only problem is that five weeks away from my real life, I'm having trouble remembering what it is.

When I look in the mirror in the caravan park toilet, the person looking back at me doesn't look so much like real life, Daylesford me. This Kate has wavy, straggly hair in pig tails, she wears sun dresses and sometimes shorts!!, she is covered in mozzie bites. I think she looks relaxed and I know she looks grubby. In my real life would I pull a band-aid off my foot and leave the grey sticky remnants until next shower? Do I really wash my hair every few days?? Have I ever worn shorts since I was about 20?

Miss Pepper was really sick for a few days. She moaned and groaned and clutched at her tummy all day and all night for about three days. In my real life would I take her to the doctor or would I be satisfied with advice from neighbours and phone calls from relatives? It's hard to remember in the middle of the night in a caravan park full of sleeping neighbours when you are awake trying to calm and reassure your whimpering child.

The other day I was crocheting a few granny squares while supervising my girlies swimming in the pool when the caravan park gardener walked past. He made some remark like That looks like fun, I guess some one's got to do it! I found myself wanting to chase after him and set him straight. Tell him that in my real life I live on a farm, that I also work with the land, make things green, get my hands dirty. I wanted to tell him that in my real life I don't spend hours sitting by the pool. But I didn't. At times real life seems a million miles away.

Yesterday, desperately hungry after a few hours swimming, we stopped at a local shopping centre for lunch. I was wearing my bathers and a pair of shorts. My bathers were still damp from the pool. In public!! This is not something I can ever imagine doing in my real, at home, life.

And then a few days ago I found myself in a conversation about the price of food with a fellow caravanner. We were talking about milk and how expensive he had found it here in the NT. I found myself nodding along. We are so very aware of the price of food now we are buying so much of it on the road, rather than growing it ourselves. Later, when I was walking back to the caravan, I remembered my real life theories about the true cost of food. About how I believe you get what you pay for and how important it is to me to support the family producing the food we eat by paying a fair price.

In my real life I define myself by my roles as a Mother and a wife which are constant now too. But at home I also feel most true to myself when I am baking and sewing and knitting and creating and growing and preserving, none of which I am really doing here on the road. I have been crocheting a bit here and there but nothing like my output at home. Somehow by having more time I have less time to myself. I have no idea how that one works.

Now that I've written all this out I am not entirely sure what this ramble is all about. What ties it all together. I guess I'm just trying to reconcile the Daylesford Kate with the Kate on the road. Trying to remain true to one while giving the other room to discover and explore herself.

I hope that doesn't sound too cuckoo for you this sunny Sunday morning.

Have fun out there. x