Silent Sunday - a watchful audience

I was putting away my daughter's clean laundry when I felt that I was being watched........

Spontaneous random happening

I was on a mission.  
As the train pulled into the station before we got on, I noticed one of my favourite local actors sitting in the carriage.  So I dragged my friend to that particular one.  We sat a seat away.  Then I noticed his friend's gorgeous watch strap and commented on it. His friend and I then had an interesting conversation about vintage mexican silver and a Parisian watchmaker.  His friend is also an actor but I can't remember his name, although he happened to be wearing a fabulous pink shirt that much I do remember.
At that point, we saw another friend but at the other end of the seats.  We had a quick chat and then it was our stop.
As we got off, making sure we went past Mr. Actor, I said to handsome actor (Neil Morrissey), "are you from Crouch End?"   To which he replied, "Crouuuuchon" (with a French accent).  We laughed and got off the tube.
Me blushing!!!!!!
My friend Nicola was suitably impressed with my chutzpah!!!!!

Not a good day

Today has been a difficult day for me in many ways.

Not least that I'm feeling overwhelmed with my studies and with being busy 5 days a week.

It is that sense that I have no time.

No time for homework or my assignments.

No time for house work or chores.

And no real time to be a mummy with my daughter.

Child had spent the day with her grandma, they had gone to a matinee and had a lovely time. I had picked them up, brought them home and now was busy making risotto.  The idea was that we would eat and watch Strictly Come Dancing together.  This started off well but then disintegrated.  My daughter wouldn't eat because she was watching the telly.  I told her I'd turn it off if she didn't eat.  The telly went off and she became hysterical.  Shouting at me to turn it back on.  She knows that she can always watch it on catch up in the morning.  But she spiraled and worked herself up, shouting 'I hate you mummy' and hitting me.  Finally sobbing in my arms, I managed to calm her down.  My mum went home at that point and we did the bed time routine.  She lay quietly in bed, while I read a few pages of her story and then the lights went out.  She is so far sleeping peacefully.

What bothers me is that when I rang mum to apologise, she berated me for going on at my child to eat her food and she asked me how often this sort of outbreak happens.  Am I doing something wrong here?  I feel like this all comes down to being a 'good enough' mother again and the self-doubt about whether I am doing the best that I can do and not being supported with what I am able to do.  The other thing about it was that there were two of telling my daughter what to do.  Instead of supporting me, my mother was doing her own 'parenting' and yet this is my home.  Isn't that sending out mixed signals?  I usually defer to her as being in charge when at her home, so why can't she do that at my house?

But it is not just that, it's also how low I'm feeling about me.

I am very aware that I do not have a very positive personal view of how I look.  That my image of my physical self is poor.  I'm also aware that this is my view, subjectively mine.  This is not necessarily the view that other people see.  For most of the time, I can wake up and put on clothes, knowing that they work as an outfit and that I look ok.  Sometimes I even feel that I look good and on occasion, that I look 'fab'.  But there are certain times where my vision of myself is that of 'you cannot go out looking like that', or that I look like the size of a house and 'who am I kidding wearing that outfit'.  Now the clothes are the same size and style that I was wearing a few months ago, but my perception is different.

And so my rational side takes over and tells me to stop being silly and that I have to get my child to school and me to work.  

The rational side wins, but the feelings, these particular feelings are still there.  They do fade away for a while, but invariably they return.

Today, it felt like all my negative feelings were compounded.

I was incredibly grateful to my dear friend Nicola for being less than 2 minutes away and for plying me with coffee and a shoulder to lean on.  She sat and listened to me, again.  This is something she has listened to before, but she didn't complain, she just listened.

These days come and go and life goes on.

Tomorrow will be better, until the next time. 

But that next time, might now be for another year.

The worst tooth fairy EVER!!!!!!!

It has happened again.

My daughter's long-term wobbly tooth finally came out yesterday.  

The new tooth had already grown in, so her mouth looked rather funny and a bit crowded.

It came out at dinner, somewhere between the first bite of food and the last.

We wrapped it in a tissue and put it in a little box for safe keeping until bedtime.  At that point, it went under the pillow.

Child went to sleep and my evening carried on.

I finally got into bed, turned the lights out and fell asleep.

I woke up early.  I could hear that my daughter had gone to the bathroom and then back to bed.

And that was when I remembered!

Oh crap!!

I had forgotten, I mean the tooth fairy had forgotten to swap the tooth for a coin.

I leaped up, grabbed a 50p (deflation!) and quietly went into my daughter's room

As I kissed her good morning, I slid my hand under the pillow and swapped the tooth for the coin.

"Mummy, is it morning yet?"

"Yes, darling," I said as I walked out of her room towards the kitchen.

"Mummy!!!  The tooth fairy remembered!!!!" shrieked an excited little voice.

Phew!!!

Timing

Saturday was a most glorious, sunny day.

My daughter and I took a young friend for a walk across the Heath.  The friend is only here for a few month, while she decides where to go to university and so she is exploring London.

(Good choice!!)

We started off with a rather delicious brunch to fortify ourselves for a long walk.

We began our walk on public transport, taking it all the way up to Kenwood House in North London.

We got off the bus at the lodge gate and walked down the windy, little road to the front of the house.  To the right of the house is a vine covered tunnel.  As you walk through, it affords you one of the most beautiful vistas in London.  We turned right and walked along the gravel promenade towards the Henry Moore and went out of the gate onto Hampstead Heath.  My goal was to walk down towards South End Green, grab a coffee (which we did) and then walk back across the bottom of Parliament Hill. 

It was on the way to Parliament Hill, that we walked past a motorbike whose paniers were covered in stickers from far off countries.  The owner of said bike was walking towards us, so I made a comment, "something about having come a long way".  He smiled and we carried on.

We had gone most of the way down the road, when I turned to my friend and said, "oooh, I want to read his blog."  She suggested we go back up the road, so we did and he was still there, perched on his bike with no helmet on.  I asked him if he wrote a blog, he did and he gave me the address.  We chatted a bit more and went our separate ways.

The day was wonderful.  We enjoyed each others company.  The sun was shining and we walked miles.

Later that night, I tried to find his blog but couldn't.  It turned out that I had a word wrong.  His blog was good.  Well the photos were amazing but the writing was more a concious stream of 'talking-like' prose, but it was really interesting to see all the amazing places he's been to.

I did drop him an email and have had one back but unfortunately this is not likely to go anywhere.

But it should be fun following him around the world.

So depressing

Over the last week, I have been to visit two elderly residential care homes.  These are not to be mistaken with nursing homes.

And to be honest, I'm not really sure what to say about either of them.

I had no concept of what these were like and nothing to compare the first one to until today.

The first one was considered luxury with a small flat screen telly in each decent sized room.  The communal space was filled with big arm chairs in a sort of semi circle, where residents could watch the TV.  It had a French doors that lead onto a wonderful garden.

The second one was not luxury.  I walked in and felt oppressed.  It was hot and stuffy and felt very boxy.  There was the smell of cooking, very reminiscent of school dinners.  Every room felt like a corridor and lacked any softness.  The decor was shabby and unappealing.

Both homes had the feeling of the 'end of the line' and I came away saddened at the thought of where some people end up through lack of personal funds and government resources.

In order of importance

My daughter has a funny way of letting me know what her priority is or what her favourite things are.  This is what I saw when I opened my fridge this afternoon.

A light has gone out

Listening to the radio this morning on the way to work, I was saddened by the news about Steve Jobs.  

It is a huge loss to Apple and to the vast majority of the people that I know.

His creative genius was huge.

He will be missed.

Silent Sunday - late summer, late afternoon light