2010 finishing....

The last day of the year and I'm feeling healthy.

I'm ok on the 'happy' front too, not ecstatic but not depressed either.

Somewhere in the middle.

So looking back on this last year, there have been some ups and definitely some downs, but overall it has been a good year.

I am where I want to be.

I feel physically fairly fit.

But also, I'm doing the degree that I want to do at the University of my choosing.

With the exception of DC, I am mostly going positively forward.

In our last conversation on Christmas, he said that he hoped the new year fulfills my hopes and dreams.

And that is exactly what I hope for in 2011.

So fingers crossed....

To follow on.....

I may seem like an old-fashioned romantic to most people but the fact that I still believe in this 'real love' is part of what defines my character.  I am faceted, like love, I have many aspects to me, one of which is my belief in what lies a head.  I do sometimes wobble in this belief, such as after my divorce, but then it gets reconfirmed when dear friends make a commitment to get married.

Beethoven wrote to his 'Immortal Beloved'..."what longing in tears for you - You - my life - my All - farewell.  Oh, go on loving me - never doubt the faith-fullest heart.  Of your beloved.  Ever thine.  Ever mine.  Ever ours."

Even Beethoven believed.

(Love Letters of Great Men)

....in the city

In the inimitable words of Carrie Bradshaw, I got to thinking about relationships last night.

Here we all are, coming to the end of yet another year and for the most part, it was a really good year.  But what is it that I want?

And after watching yet again, the final episode of Sex and the City (for the umpteenth time), it occurred to me that I have a similarity to Carrie.   No it is not my fabulous shoe collection or my incredible wardrobe filled with vintage couture, it is that I too am someone who is looking for love.  It was her final conversation, her speech if you like, to Aleksander the Russian, that has brought about this ruminating about love.  She looked at him and said that she is "someone who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love."

It is also what she says about relationships that resonates within my world, "there are those relationships that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous." 

I know that this 'real love' is out there, but I also know that it has to be a two way street and not a one-sided thing.  It is multi-faceted and full-bodied and like a good wine, improves with age.

So to ask the question, do I believe in 'real love'?

Abso-fucking-lutely!

(Thanks Big)

spending time

I stood and watched my daughter sleep for a few moments tonight, before kissing her and counting my blessings.

She is so very precious to me and yet on nights like tonight, I can be quite hard on her.  I look back at myself and realise that I am quite controlling.  It is supper time, we eat now.  No you can't have pudding until you've finished.  Sit forward so that the food spills on the plate. Don't talk with your mouth full.

I feel like all I hear is my own voice being negative towards her.  It's almost like I drill her, so that all this becomes habit for her.  It's about manners and common sense, but sometimes I wonder if she is just too young and if I'm just too concerned with it all.

Is it that I only hear my voice because I'm a single mum, and that couples don't feel this because there is two of them, voices alternate.

I know that she just wants to spend time with me.  She wants to sit with me, cuddle with me and eat with me.  But sometimes, like tonight, I don't recognise this until after the fact.  I don't want it to be too late to be with her.  I don't want to miss anything.  I want to enjoy her childhood with her and watch her grow up, but sometimes it just hard to relax.  To let her just be.  Should I just let her be?  Aren't I here to guide her?  To teach her?

I know that this young age, this delightfulness will go soon enough once she gets nearer to her teens and I need to remind myself to grab these moments while I can.

A long, long, long time ago.....

This is my road.

The photo is dated: 7th May 1888

My house wasn't built until 1904, otherwise you would see it just before the bend on the right.

Other then the houses, nothing much has changed.

Last looked out....

Late afternoon, looking out of the sky light in my kitchen.

It's amazing what you can see when you look up!!!

From Christmas wish-list to Christmas wishes!

OMG!!!!

CHRISTIAN LOUBOUTIN
Plisseta 140 satin slingbacks
£495

There's a story behind these shoes!

Talking of age...

I know that I 'dissed' teenage antics in my last post, but I am loving the new un-official Facebook campaign to change everyone's profile photo to a cartoon character by Monday 6th December. Not sure it can be achieved, but love the effort.

And it is so interesting to see what characters everyone is choosing.

Playground antics

Can I just start by saying, "How old are you?????"

I mean seriously, didn't we all grow out of this when we left our early twenties behind?

Last night, I was chatting with a friend between dances and we got on to the subject of two other girls and New Year's Eve.

Earlier in the year, I had felt that the two girls and I had the beginnings of a nice friendship, lots of communication, meeting up at venues etc. But since the summer, I feel like I have been dumped. One of the girls changed her Facebook settings so that I can't write on her wall. My old nemesis, 'Insecurities' started to rear it's ugly head. But I thought to myself, no, it's not worth worrying about. Then in recent weeks, people have been talking about New Year's Eve. The Dance is being held at a different venue this year and the friends I went with last year, aren't going. I'd sort of resigned myself to staying in. But then after talking with this friend last night, I mentioned that the two girls had most definitely not invited me to join them. She said the same thing. It just felt a bit too selective. We are not part of the 'in-crowd'. That we are not flavour of the month.

And all this just made me feel like I was interacting with teenagers.

There seem to be two camps of people at Ceroc.

Camp 1, where it is one big happy family and everyone is included.

Camp 2, only the favoured few, the elite are accepted into the inner circle, and who knows what the criteria is for that.

The invisibles

I remember reading an article some time ago about the people in our everyday lives that we, as a nation, never really see.

It's not just the homeless sleeping in the doorways or living in boxes under bridges. It's the other people that stand at the entrances to the local supermarkets, selling The Big Issue, or collecting for a charity or two.

Sometimes as I walk past, I can hear a voice saying "hello" or "please help the ...whatever charity...", but I ignore it.

I think that we are all guilty of ignoring these people, pretending that they're not there, acting as if they're invisible. When what they're really doing, is trying to make a pittance of a living or trying to do some good for others.

The thought of becoming invisible to others is a scary one. About a year ago, a much older woman told me that at the age of 41, I was no longer a bright young thing, that people would stop seeing me in a crowd because I would no longer stand out. Does that then make me invisible? Or just not interesting? If that affects my level of confidence with all that I do have in my life, how does ignoring the people on the street affect theirs, with what little they have?

This is all food for thought, the pondering of the mind.

A small reminder to self, to treat others as I would like to be treated.

Thoughts for my daughter

I have a presentation to do in February on Bereavement and Loss.

About 10 days ago, my presentation group met to discuss our thoughts on the subject.

It turned out to be very revealing and somewhat emotional.

But it also lead me to wonder what my daughter would remember of her childhood.

Would she remember shouty mummy?

Hopefully not.

We have a weekly tradition of watching Strictly Come Dancing and discussing our favourites. She tends to support and miss the underdogs who go out early.

But we also bake together on a fairly regular basis.

So one of the things that I hopes she remembers is coming into a warm home in winter, with the smell of vanilla from baking gently assaulting her cold, pink nose.

Sense of pride

matriculate verb /məˈtrɪk.jʊ.leɪt/ [I] formal
to be formally admitted to study at a university or college
matriculation noun /məˌtrɪk.jʊˈleɪ.ʃən/ [C or U]

(Definition of matriculate verb from the Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary)

A thanking post

There are definitely a few things in my life that I'm always thankful for.

The most obvious being my daughter, with my mother coming a close second.

I'm very richly blessed in the quality of my dear friends.

The fact that I currently have a warm, dry place to live is also a big plus.

And then there is the path that I started just over a year ago, with an Access course that has lead me to begin a degree, for which I am very excited about.

But what differs from last year is the missing element of DC.

Other then that, in the spirit of the 10 years that I spent in America, I am thankful for having what I do have.

2:1

I received my first assignment back today and got excellent feedback and a grade of 2:1.

Not bad for a first effort.

The first person that I wanted to share this with was DC.

Unfortunately I can't.

Why is this so difficult?

coincidence?

Last Sunday evening, I was having an in depth conversation with an old friend, when she started telling me about another friend that had gone MIA. This friend had not responded to her emails, texts or voice mails. They had no mutual friends in common but my friend did know where this other woman worked. So she rang and found out that her friend was 'not at work today but would be back tomorrow.' My friend felt a big relief, as she had more then enough to worry about in her own life, with her own family. That being said, I told her that I had not heard from DC for a month, again no response to texts, emails or voice mails and again no real friends in common. But I too know where he works but was loath to ring there, as it felt a bit like being a stalker. But I was worried, especially as he's been traveling a lot with his latest job. We empathised with each other about 'worrying'.

Having finished the conversation, we both got our children ready for bed.

That was done, all was quiet, I sat down to do some homework.

Taking a break, I checked my email.

It has a list of all those people in my address book, also using the same company, who are online at that point.

Big surprise and bizarrely coincidental - DC was online (for a whole hour approx.)

I can stop worrying now that I know he is at least alive.

Not sure if it makes me feel any better.....

For life

I'm watching Country File and it's all about swans.

Swans were given royal protective status back in the 16th century.

The other thing about swans is that they mate for life.

So where are we humans going wrong, eh?

A parental story - part 2

One dark (and possibly rainy) night....oh hang on that was how my father's story began.

Except that strangely enough, the night of this story did happen to be rainy and as it occurred on a November evening, it was also quite dark outside.

Anyway, I digress.

My mother had set out around 6pm to drive over to Hampstead, a route she was incredibly familiar with and could do in her sleep. She drove down East Heath Drive towards South End Green and turned onto Well Road. Her destination was Burgh House, a wonderful place steeped in history, tucked away off the main roads, bordered by the High Street, Downshire Hill and East Heath Drive.

Some time around 8.30pm, my phone rang.

It was mum, sounding slightly hysterical and very anxious.

She had misplaced her car.

It was raining and she had been walking around trying to find it for the last 20 minutes.

I told her to find a cafe and wait for me. But no, she wanted to keep looking.

So I rang my neighbour and explained the situation. She said that she would listen for my daughter.

15 minutes later, I rang mum again and told her to 'just go and sit in Carluccio's, now!'

She had told me the route she had initially taken and that she had parked behind a skip, so I hopped into a taxi, told him the story and off we went. He said that he'd once been asked to help find a car parked in a square in Chelsea. Chelsea has a million squares.

It didn't take long to get to the top of Hampstead. We turned left onto East Heath Drive and right onto Well Road. Driving slowly along, the taxi driver asked about the skip and said that there was one coming up on the left. We looked and sure enough, on the very first road was a skip and behind it was my mother's car. Phew!

We laughed and I paid the taxi driver.

I got into the car, rang mum and told her.

"You are fantastic!" was her response.

I drove round to the cafe, she got in and we went home.

She was so relieved. I was just glad that I could help.

A parental story - part 1

One dark (and possibly rainy) night, my father was driving his old Plymouth car, heading back from Wisconsin to Chicago, when all of a sudden he heard and felt a collision in the middle of the road. Unable (and unwilling) to stop, he continued his journey for another 2 or 3 hours and eventually made it home without anymore mishaps. It was only when he got home and got out of his car that he realised what had happened.

There was a terrible smell, a rotten stench, emanating from his vehicle.

He had driven over a skunk.

It took him a number of days to wash and scrub the car in order to get rid of the smell.

Naturally, he told the story much better than me...

Siberia revisited.....twice

My boiler went out.

Not once, but twice.

The first time was early last week.

We woke up to a cozy, warm flat and got ready for the day.

As usual.

It wasn’t until I came back after lunch, when I found a chilly flat. I had work to do and sitting at my lap top without any heat wasn’t my idea of fun.

The temperature had dipped to 4°c.

Cold!

I rang the management company, sounding ever so slightly hysterical.

Telling them that my heating needed to get fixed today. Now!! I have a child. We have no hot water. What am I expected to do??? Fix it now………….

er…….please.

They were incredibly sorry but there was no one available to come out that day, it would have to wait until the next day.

Oh no. What was I going to do about heat?

My guardian angel, Chrissy, came to the rescue as did my mum. Both had portable radiators.

So we managed. We each had an extra blanket and a hot water bottle.

No hot bath, but we were able to have a good night’s sleep.

We went off next day as normal and by late afternoon, we had heat and more importantly, hot water.

Phew! Life could resume.

The days went past and oh crap! We, including my mum, got back after a long day on Monday to find ourselves with a cold flat, again. Having taken the heaters back, I had to go retrieve them again.

And yes, the boiler man could not get to us until the morning, so another cold night was in store.

We were getting used to life in the chilly lane.

Thankfully the boiler was fixed just after lunch on Tuesday and remains in good working order as we speak, I mean type.

But after this experience, I would say, watch this space.

Familiarity

Ages ago, I wrote a post called "A rose by any other name..." or something like that.

And today, it popped back into my mind.

A fellow student sitting next to me, addressed another student as babe. I laughed and so did he, apologising for using such an informal word.

Seconds later another girl responded to something and said, "thanks hun".

Within minutes, I had replied, "that's ok love".

My curious mind took this and ran with it, as it occurred to me that in this day and age, life is much less formal.

The use of such names, do not as they did in the past, imply intimacy but more one of equality, friendship and very obviously shows the historical context of the times that we live in. No more do we address our teachers with Miss or Mr, but rather we use their first names.

Does this in turn show a lack of respect? Or is it that we are now used to being informal, that it is now simply a matter of fact. Should we worry about our children, leading by example?

My sister has been over for a visit and one of her passing comments was how polite my daughter is. Manners cost nothing. Being respectful is not seen as a sign of weakness but that of strength of character. I see the difference in language from 30 years ago to now and it makes me wonder what will change in the next 30 years, when my daughter is reflecting on the behaviour of her children. I hope that I am around to witness it all. We had a friend while we were growing up, who died at the ripe old age of 107. She used to say that she managed to survive 3 wars, the Boer War, WW1 and WW2. She saw the invention of the car, electricity, television and radio all come to fruition and again, I am curious to see what major changes in industry and society will come about in my life-time. It's not just about language but also about creation.

Siberia

The other thing that I want to mention tonight, is how bloody cold it has suddenly become.

I thought that when I got dressed this morning, that I would be too warm.

But I wasn't.

I was cold all day long.

At lunch, I ended up in my local Cafe Rouge, sitting almost on top of the heater, clutching a hot, skinny latte.

My perfect liquid lunch.

Got back and finished up the day cold again.

Child is asleep in bed and I've been trying to finish up some work, but I'm too cold.

Solution?

A hot bath and a hot drink.

Result?

Oh so much better.

I'm warm, sort of tingly warm.

A hot water bottle is tucked into my bed and I'm about to join it.

Come the morning, I shall know better and have that extra layer on, just to be safe.

Twos

I happened to be watching Spooks tonight, when (sadly) the rogue lead man, Mr. Gorgeous, decides to plument to his death from the top of a tall building in Farringdon.

Shortly after, I'm casually viewing NCIS:LA while in the bath, when yet another rather handsome bad dude, also decides that a flying finish is the way to go.

I think the TV programmers were in cahoots!!!!

me

The loss of a relationship.

The space created when a person isn’t there.

The missing touch.

Conversations that won’t happen.

Breathing can happen with difficulty.

Acceptance of the reality.

No more potential or possibilities.

Tears prickle the eyes at unwanted moments.

Being of no mind would be helpful right now.

26/10/10

Spares

Tonight I was told that I had a fantastic spare arm and that I should bottle it, sell it and make a fortune!

reflection

It's something that I am going to have to learn how to do.

Be a reflective practitioner.

It's not so much hindsight, more looking at what has happened, think it through, mull it over.

Schonn had a theory to reflect in action and to reflect on action.  The latter being the easier one to learn how to do, while the former takes experience and time to develop.

All slightly differing tools of the trade.

All at sixes and sevens

Feeling decidedly on a low ebb.

It is that feeling of trying to make sense of it all.

Trying to understand why things happen a certain way.

Events can sometimes have a cyclical way about them.

Muddling through to clarity.

It might take a while.

divert and disturb

Thoughts permeate the mind and distract from the task of the moment.

One good deed

A friend had sent an email round robin regarding a flat that she had.  She was looking for new tenants and wondered if any of her friends knew someone who knew someone.....

Funnily enough, it just so happened that a mum at the school had mentioned that her 'nanny' was looking for a flat.

So I put the nanny in touch with my friend and hey presto!!!!

My friend has a new tenant.

It's one of those things that had all the right timing.

It feels good to be able to help.

Trapped

Not sure if trapped is really the right word, but I definitely feel like my hands are tied.

Admittedly, when I got divorced, I was granted the legal right to return home with my daughter under the proviso that she return to the States for 30 days a year.  This is more then some of my friends have been able to do and less than others.  But over all, I'm ok with it.

I don't mind going back with my daughter as it gives me the opportunity to spend time with my friends and family.  What I am struggling with is the financial commitment.  It is almost impossible to spend a straight 30 days over there, so the visit is broken into two parts.  This means that there are two sets of plane tickets. As a student, I have the time, but struggle with the money.  When I graduate, I will hopefully have the money but not the time.  Bit of a catch 22.  I am thinking that in about 5 or 6 years time, she might be old enough to do the trip alone.  This is not something that I am confortable with but it might have to become a reality.  My ex has said no to any kind of 'time' compromise.  He wants every second of his 30 days, but won't consider a visit over here as part of the 30, only as additional time.  He is now talking about visiting in the new year.  He has agreed to continue to 'contribute' to my child's plane tickets but not cover the complete cost.  So if I tell him the return flight is £400, he'll give me £300.

Is this fair?  No.

Is he put out at all by these visits?  No.

The other side of the coin is that I have my daughter year round, ups and downs included.

My Pops used to say all too often, "life is not fair".

Indeed this is true.

And with that said, I will look forward to the day that I graduate and am gainfully employed.  I want to be able to NOT need his money.  It is not easy being a single parent, relying heavily on the help of friends and family, but its not impossible either.  I have to kick myself every now and then and remind myself that it could be so much worse.  My life could be much more restricted.

So for now, lets just sort out the 'to do' list for the next 12 months and worry about the rest nearer the time.

reality

It's about realisation and moving away from denial.
Accepting the reality.


As shop girl said to Steve Martin's character, "hurt now or hurt later?"

a distinct lack of what......

Whether it's bury your head in the sand or hitting it perpetually against a brick wall, it all amounts to the same thing.

If.....

Something about this poem is resonating with me at the moment.

If you can keep your head when all about you 
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings 
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling 1865 - 1936
English writer and poet

Conker season!

Late this afternoon, I received an email from my daughter's school and felt compelled to share this with you, as it harks back to times gone by.

Dear Parents,

I was concerned when approached by a child recently who asked if the game of conkers was illegal.  As a result the Head and I brought this to the school leadership team and whilst the game is far from illegal it has certainly been a neglected playground activity for many, many years.  After a unanimous discussion I am delighted to announce that the game of conkers will be returning to our Primary School as of Monday. 

Given that this is a ‘new’ school activity it is worth clarifying what can and cannot be brought into school. Firstly, all conkers must be pre-drilled before school (certainly no drilling tools can be brought to school), games must be played in the Peace Garden for Key Stage 2 or by the raised flower beds for Key Stage 1 where the conker shells can biodegrade safely and games must be played fairly.  Below are the official rules from the World Conker Championships which we will all play by:

1. A distance of no less than 8" or 20cm of lace must be between knuckle and nut.
2. Each player then takes three alternate strikes at the opponent’s conker.
3. Each attempted strike must be clearly aimed at the nut, no deliberate mis-hits.
4. The game will be decided once one of the conkers is smashed.
5. A small piece of nut or skin remaining shall be judged out, it must be enough to mount an attack.
6. If both nuts smash at the same time then the match shall be replayed.
7. Any nut being knocked from the lace but not smashing may be re threaded and the game continued.
8. A player causing a knotting of the laces (a snag) will be noted, three snags will lead to disqualification.
9. If a game lasts for more than five minutes then play will halt and the 5 minute rule" will come into effect. Each player will be allowed up to nine further strikes at their opponent’s nut, again alternating three strikes each. If neither conker has been smashed at the end of the nine strikes then the player who strikes the nut the most times during this period will be judged the winner.

Conkers is a fun, seasonal game that many of us in our thirties or beyong remember with great fondness.  As with any game it works well when players trust each other. Fair play and trust will be the watch words for all our games.

Yours truly,

Deputy Head (baked in oven) 

Head Master (soaked in vinegar) 

Profiles

Profiles.....what do you think about them?

And which ones am I talking about?

The facial ones, not the written ones.

In the last few days, I have found myself seeing people from the side, sort of two dimensional.

On Thursday night, while listening to a concert at the Wigmore Hall, I noted that I was sitting in line with the first violin.  She looked so familiar, like a family friend that we've known since before us children were even born, as our parents had gone to school together.  So she was 'that' familiar.  But when the first violin stood up and took a bow, her face was completely different.  The profile did not match the front view.  It was almost disappointing.

And then today, while at a children's concert, I noticed a father sitting, watching attentively, absorbed in music and the audience participation.  The quartet humorously interacted with the inquisitive children, catching their curious minds with a variety of music for stringed instruments.  But again, it was his profile that held my attention. It seemed almost statuesque, perfect.  I thought about trying to see him face on, but ended up not remembering to do so.  

This all made me think about the parallels between this and what people write when posting a personal profile, an advert for themselves, most often on a dating website.  I speak from experience, as I spent many months trying to utilise a couple of the more interesting dating websites, with very little success, other then an awful lot of first dates.  A lot of the men were nothing like their photos, some were taller, shorter, not as attractive, with less hair, with more weight.  It was a bit like seeing the 3 dimensional view in a fairground mirror.  Slightly warped.

It's funny how our perception changes in a matter of degrees.

Serendipity

Serendipity
noun - an aptitude for making fortunate discoveries by accident...

I think that I experienced this last night.

Just at my daughter's bedtime, a text message came through from another parent at her school.

Did I want 2 free tickets to see some chamber music at The Wigmore Hall.

Naturally, I immediately thought about how I could make this happen.

And happen it did.

My babysitter was available.

My child went to bed on time.

And I had my mum's car for convenience.

I got down to the hall just before the interval.

So I milled about in the foyer.

A chap walked in, also late and we started chatting, he is a photographer.

As I had a spare ticket which was closer to the front, I offered him the upgrade.

He took it and thanked me, before going off to the bar.

I went in and sat down.

As people started coming back to their seats after the break, 2 men sat down next to me.

One started talking about 'serendipity'.

Then photographer man came and sat down.

We started talking about how lucky we had both been this evening, I said it was fortuitous and he said that it was 'serendipity'.

How bizarre was that to have 2 people use the same turn of phase within 5 minutes of each other.

It was in serendipity.

Unprepared

I'm feeling very unprepared.

Lectures start tomorrow and I feel like I've done nothing.

Actually, I have done nothing.

I've been reading the Wednesday Guardian and occasional chapters in occasional books, but really I don't think it's very much.

In fact, it all feels very different from last year, when I started my Access course.  We were given a very exact timetable. 

But this feels more relaxed.

All last week at induction, the lecturers kept saying that they want us to enjoy this and that we should be very proud to have gotten this far.

The trouble is, I don't feel like I've done anything..........yet.

But I suspect that in 6 months, I shall feel very differently.

So for now, at least today, which is possibly the last day of 'not-having-homework', I'm going to accomplish the last of my to-do list.

I shall finish off painting the toilet.

I will bake the cookie dough that I made yesterday.

I will change the sheets (might be the last time for a while!)

And I will phone the Finance office.

So.........watch this space.

Calm

I think I've had enough.

So tonight, I decided that it was a question of just letting go.

She could take a bit longer doing everything, get a couple of pages of story and still have her hot water bottle.

Obviously, as this was what she wanted, this worked.

We had a calm and peaceful end of day.

Until I was about to get into a lovely, deep bath (forget the eco-warrior) and a big spider ran across the floor.  Completely freaked me out.

I'm phobic.

And not just a little bit, but a lot.

I was not fast enough to 'get' it and so it still lives on, except that it followed me to the bathroom when I was in the bath.

Couldn't get it then, either.

Anyway, I'm in bed about to turn off the light.  

If it knows what is good for itself, then it will stay out of my way!!!

Friday

I was in the kitchen doing the washing up.

DC was at the table working on his laptop.

Child was on the couch watching a dvd.

Supper was in the oven.

I finished my chore.

Everyone was fine.

I walked into my room and lay down on my bed.

I had 10 minutes to relax, a nap was in order.

Later at dinner, DC commented about it and how comfortable I must have felt at that moment to be able to simply nap.

And to me, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

Family meeting

I'm following up on a suggestion of a dear friend, as a way to move forward through some of the issues that 'we' are having at home.  We are having a family meeting today.

We shall probably go to our local Starbucks, where I can enjoy the coffee and my child can have a muffin, both of which help ease the way.

The problem is, is that I'm not sure how detailed this meeting should be, after all I'm dealing with a 7 year old child.  There is only so much 'reasoning' that she can take on board.

I think that seeing me in tears yesterday morning before school, brought home how upset I am at the moment.  She didn't like seeing me crying.

So in this meeting, we are going to draw up a list of chores that she can be responsible for and if these chores are done on time, then maybe we start looking at a system of giving pocket money.  She can start learning the value of things.  Let her start contributing to how we live as a family.

I feel like I cannot do everything.

DC was with me yesterday when I did school pick up.  We had to race to get to a dance class and while this was going on, he and I went to view a property on behalf of a dear friend.  My child was lovely.  She got her pjs on, ate supper, cleaned her teeth, had her story and went to bed.  But then she kept coming out.  First she was too cold, then too hot, then she couldn't sleep.  DC and I were supposed to be going for dinner and dancing, but this was looking less likely.

I could feel my sense of panic rise, while DC remained calm, allowing me to do what I needed to do.  I had just wanted to have an easy evening without any 'child' issues, with me not wanting to shout at her.  But each time she came out of her room, just made me feel more like I was doing it all wrong.  Finally, she stayed in her room and went to sleep.  With the babysitter listening for her, we went out.

I really didn't feel great, I felt depleted, so we didn't go dancing, instead we went for dinner at Dim T, which turned out to be the perfect salve.  I needed to relax and we sat there, side by side, smiling and laughing while we ate.

But I know that my reactions to my daughter need to be kept in check.  She is only 7 and she deserves a happy, carefree childhood.  But all this is showing me that I am definitely not super-mum and that I do need some family help, that I can't do it all, no matter how capable I may appear.

Struggling

I feel like I'm at my wits end.

And I'm really not sure what to do about it.

My child was sent out of the class for the first time today.  It was during 'literacy', while they were sitting on the carpet, reading.  Her teacher had already moved her to a space by herself, as she is easily distracted. But she gradually wriggled closer to another girl in her class and tried chatting with her.  Her teacher asked her 3 times to stop and finally had to ask her to go outside.

This was the first time this had happened.

It is not something to be proud of, but when I asked her about it.  She replied that "mummy, it was my first time".  Being the first time does not make it ok.

In fact, this makes me very worried.

I'm her primary carer.  It is up to me to guide her behaviour, but how can I help her become less distractable?  It worries me that I'm doing something wrong.  My mother thinks it might have something to do with her only having one parent in her daily life.  That this is reflected in her behaviour.  I'm finding more and more that she is showing 'attitude'.  She is becoming cheeky, which is not cute or funny, it's almost rude.  There was a time when I applauded her confidence and hoped that it would stand her in good stead in later years, but I'm wondering now if it's just too much.  

Do I expect too much of her at such a young age?

Have I been to hard on her?

Is this why I'm getting behavioural issues from her now?

I just feel like crying right now.  It all feels beyond me.  I'm not sure how to help her.

But I'm the mummy and it's my job to help her.

But how?

Time

It's an interesting thing - time.

It moves at different rates for each individual.

And means different things to different people. I have found that as I get older, time moves in different ways. In contrast to before I had my child, I now enjoy my 'spare' time very differently. I don't always feel the need to fill the time up doing 'things'. Sitting down reading the paper takes on a whole new meaning now, while lying on my bed, watching the trees move in the autumn breeze has become a firm favourite past-time.

The speed at which time moves is dependent on the occupation of the day or the moment and I think that this would apply to most people. When heavily involved in my studies or work, my mind doesn't wander. But when left with a 'couch potato' day, that’s when the clock slows right down.

But time is all so subjective.

Phenomenal!

Last night, I went to see Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre at Saddler's Wells.

To say that they are phenomenal, is an understatement. They were fluid, vibrant, beyond strong and so inspirational.

There is one piece called Revelations, which completely blew me away the first time I saw it 15 years ago and it was still just as good today. The music was gospel and oh so up-lifting. As a dancer in a former life, I can comprehend how physically strong these dancers are and how agile they have to be. I was very flexible, my nickname was 'supps' (supple) but even back then, I was never in their league. It was a particular duet within Revelations that completely stunned me and quite possibly the rest of the audience. At the end of the performance, we were all on our feet cheering for an encore.

It was an amazing experience. If/when they come back to London, I highly recommend that you should go see them.

And so ends my dance review.

www.alvinailey.org

the unbearable heaviness of being

Sometimes it is simply the weight of current situations that seems unbearable.

It can be the guilt that I carry with me after shouting at my child.

Or just the strain of having to do it 'all'.

As my guru once told me, "be of no mind".....ahh, if only for a minute.

Wobbly moments

I'm feeling decidedly wobbly at the moment.

It is that feeling of not being in control, not knowing if my 3 year plan will come to fruition.

It's the anxiety about money, about responsibility, about being a grown-up.

These last two days especially, have taken their toll on me, emotionally.

I feel worn out by it all.

I feel tearful a lot of the time.

In fact, I am tearful a lot of the time.

It's almost incontrolable.

I think its the not knowing when the financial support for university will be in place. It's being on tenter hooks with my tummy churning. I can feel my heart racing.

This doesn't feel healthy.

I'm not feeling like a good mummy either, as it is making be very shouty.

My poor daughter is baring the brunt of this anxiety.

I'm too hard on her, I know I am but I'm not sure how not to be. How do I change?.

She's only seven, still very young and yet I'm expecting her to do what's asked - pronto!

She's tired after a long day and wants to relax, while I want everything done, food, bath, teeth, toilet etc and finished in a timely fashion. But she's only young.

I need to remind myself of that fact.

I am the grown-up in this relationship and I need to reign myself in. I have to learn to control my anxieties, to leave the shouting outside.

I sometimes feel like my ability to be a good mummy is being compromised by outside influences. I have to learn to close the file/folder on the events of the day and leave it at the front door.

I know that I worry about being able to give my child a good and happy life. I simply want her to have what I had growing up. A carefree childhood in a loving environment.

Unfortunately, as with most things in life, that is sadly subject to change and that is part of my worry. In recent weeks, it the possibility of change that has been weighing me down. It is this fear of not being able to provide for my child that is the cause of some of my grief. I need to have faith that it will all be ok, eventually.

I remain forever hopeful.