Fear Lasts... a lifetime

Today we ventured out for a few hours of respite from decorating ‘teen daughter’s’ bedroom.  It was to be a leisurely wander around a car-boot sale; no smells of paint fumes, no dust around the whole house, just a bit of time to recoup our energies and relax.

How wrong can you be!  One minute we were walking along a row of stalls, minding our own business, next minute my stomach is in knots.  I feel like I am going to throw up on the spot.  I am shaking and tearful.

What happened you ask?

A fight broke out.  Not what you expect to see on a Saturday morning boot sale.  I think what caught me off my guard more than anything though, was the sound of a woman screaming and going to, getting stuck in with the attacker and then in between the two men who were fighting.

I used to be very accustomed to the feelings this provoked in me – the fear and panic, the utter revulsion, however in the last twenty-seven years or so I have not had to deal with the like.  I had put to the back of my mind the effects of seeing my parents trying to physically harm one another.  I had lain to rest the sounds of them shouting and screaming.

This morning, it all came roaring back, like a freight train running into my chest. I forgot to breathe for a moment or two.  Then I heard the sounds of a child crying and even now, some hours later, I’m not sure if that was a child at the boot sale or the child in my memory.  I managed to regain my outward composure and carried on moving, albeit slowly.  All I wanted was to make sure that my kids were ok.

I never, ever want them to feel what I felt today.  I will move heaven and earth to protect them from the terror that is domestic violence.  Most of all, I want to thank my husband who quietly and without question, understood my need to gather our kids close to me for a while.

Tomorrow we’ll try a walk in the woods – should be more peaceful at least!

Bring on the Summer Holidays!!

For many of us Mums, today or perhaps tomorrow marks the start of the Summer Holidays, that 6 week epic break from school that we either love or hate.

I fall into the first of those categories.  I love having our kids at home; being able to do things with them, even if that means that on a rainy day we spend the day huddled in the living room with a pile of goodies and a stack of DVDs. 

When your kids are tiny, you just don’t realise how bereft you will feel when they go to school, so I cherish every day of that six weeks as the most time I get to spend with them, uninterrupted by school bells and uniforms.  I only have four of my ‘little ones’ left at home, ranging from 10 years old to 17 (but add dear daughter and darling grandson into the mix too, for good measure on some days).

image from interiordesignarchitects.net
I'd love to be able to reproduce this design

This summer, we are going to decorate one of the bedrooms – ‘teen daughter’ has been waiting patiently for her turn of the paint roller to come around.  That should take us roughly one week of the hols.  We work as a gang – some will be stripping whilst others are sanding or washing and so on.  Last summer we did both of the boys’ bedrooms and I think we all had fun along the way.  Not sure how the lads are going to feel about being spattered with bubblegum pink paint, but it should make for some hilarity when we hit the beach, if we hit the beach but that of course needs some reasonable weather.

Other plans for the holidays are trips on the train to London perhaps or to visit one of the Uncles in the midlands.  Family Railcards are an amazing piece of kit – we get to travel all over the place for a fraction of what it would ordinarily cost.  When you are trooping at least four of your little darlings around with you (up to a few years ago it was up to seven of them), every penny counts, especially on trips to London.

To be fair, my tribe are great kids, they don’t make demands, unreasonable or otherwise and are happy to mostly do whatever comes along.  The museums in the capital make for a good day out on a shoestring budget – as long as you take a picnic of course.

More soon on our plans for the summer, but right now, it’s time to collect some banana boxes so that ‘teen daughter’ can start to pack away all of her worldly belongings.  The strippers move in on Monday morning – 8am sharp!

A Severe Case of Granny-itis...

A strange affliction that runs in families?

Well it is in a way, because I definitely caught it from my one and only grandson.  November last year – that’s when I really came down with Granny-itis in a big way.  I had been incubating the germs for a while – or at least my daughter had.  This time last year, my daughter had just found out that she was in the family way, as my Grandad would have said.  It was a bit of a shock for her, as most women these days know well before they reach 20 weeks, trust my daughter to be different!   Thirteen weeks later – another shock – dear daughter’s dear son put in an early appearance and was born about six weeks early.

I had long since stopped fawning over beautiful baby clothes in shops, but now, I’m at it again.  I see adverts for baby things from all over the place and I can’t quite resist having a look.  My house has been invaded by high-chairs and cots.  The toy box that we had banished to the older kids bedrooms has snuck its way back into the living room again, full of primary-coloured plastic whatnots and teddies that jingle and sing.  The fish tank is covered in sticky little hand prints where dear grandson has been talking to the fish.

Do I care?  Of course I do! 

I am loving every minute, in fact, I highly recommend a good dose of Granny-itis, it’s the best thing in the world next to gazing at your own newborn.

Come back soon for more about Granny-itis, and what it can mean for your heart and your home.

Teen Getaway

Just another Monday morning in a family household... except another one of my babies has taken that first step toward flying the nest.  My teen son has gone on holiday without us!

It’s not a bad thing, and I have to keep telling myself that.  At seventeen years old, we have brought him up able to cook and care for himself properly. But... and it’s a huge but, he is still one of my babies and it is so hard to let go.

So for the next week I shall have sleepless nights thinking about all the things that could go wrong, but safe in the knowledge that these are just the dream-time thoughts of an over-protective mother who needs to let go.  Will they get the train ok? (Forgot to mention – he is going with his twenty something brother.)  Will the rain have washed out the camp site before they get there?  Will the tent hold up to the rain?  Will they burn the tent down cooking the spoils of their fishing trips?  Will they get horribly drunk and vomit in their sleep?  Will they have enough food?  Will they get the right train home again?

The answer to all of these questions is immaterial of course. 

They will have a fantastic holiday.  I imagine they will have their moments of madness and several cock-ups along the way too, but isn’t that how we all learned to get along in the world?

I’ve told them to enjoy their holiday and that I don’t expect a phone call every night (yeah!).  And that, dear readers is why I’m here on my computer at stupid o’clock in the morning, writing this blog post.  Ahh! the joys of motherhood!

Goodnight Bill - Rest in Peace

Last night, I found out that a dear and respected friend had lost his fight with the big ‘C’ and shuffled off this mortal coil.  I am therefore asking your indulgence whilst I say a few words about him here.

I am feeling like crap!  I believe in the continuance of the soul after the death of the physical body, I know in my heart that my dear friend’s suffering has ended and that instead of being incarcerated in a wheelchair (as he has spent the last few months), his spirit is free now to soar.  I believe that I will see and hear him again at some point in the future.

Not a Rose for your memory Bill,
but a Scottish thistle.

Yet I am so very sad.

Even more odd perhaps, is that I never met this person in the flesh.  In fact I had only heard his voice on one occasion.  My dear friend Bill was a member of an online community that I run.  We had been friends online for about seven years; working together on several projects, learning from one another along the way.  I attuned Bill to Reiki; I encouraged him to work with his Tarot and with mediumship – something that was rather frowned upon in his home country.

Bill, at least the Bill that I know, is a generous spirit.  I know that he loved his family dearly, although I suspect that he may not have told them that too often – he often told me.  I came to regard Bill not just as a friend, but as the man I wish that my father had been.  He supported me when things were slow on our community and when I became exhausted; he stood in for me to lead our Healing Circle, even though he himself was unwell.  He didn’t like to complain, so we quickly learned a code, instead of asking one another ‘How are you?’ as is considered polite to do, we would skirt around the words, yet still let one another know how we were.  It was an understanding we held with one another – a respect for our feelings.

Bill also had a wicked and naughty sense of humour, always cracked us up in our chatroom, and always called all the women in our community ‘lass’, for which those of us well past the first flush of youth were always eternally grateful! 

We are going to miss you Bill, your absence online is going to leave one heck of a hole in our community, but you will never be forgotten.  Go well on your journey my friend, and come back soon, we will be waiting for you.

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Writing on the Edge

Today I am truly on the edge of insanity!

I have a 1500 word essay due by noon Wednesday and a total block about what to write, how to write it and so on.  I ask you - how can I get excited or even motivated to write about 'how age shapes expectations about how someone should behave when bereaved'???  I find myself continually asking why I bothered to take this module in my degree program.  It's a question I can't answer.  There have been more people drop out of this module than any other i have done with Open University and I am sure that although the content has something to do with that, the general lack-lustre support from tutors is also a factor found high up on the list.

'Death and Dying' might put a lot of people off for starters (Module Code - K260), but I thought it might be interesting to find out, and learn about the process of dying from social and health-care perspectives.  It has to be said though that much of the materials are so dry they would turn to dust and blow away if left out in the air for more than a modicum of time.  I know that academic writing can be dry, but this is beyond the pale.

So, today, in blogging I am also procrastinating... again... about this darned essay.  I've got pages and pages of notes, long lists of references to include, AND NOT A CLUE WHERE TO START!  Perhaps another cup of tea is in order?  I think it might be.  I'll go and stock up on tea and give myself a little more sympathy, then I might hit a packet of biscuits too.  After that I might get the hoover out and salve my conscience by doing housework for a while till my muscles hurt.  Then I shall check in on my emails - there might be some that need to be answered and after all - its rather rude to keep folk waiting any longer than necessary.  Later I have to go to the post office and send off a book for a ReaditSwapit.com swap and post a couple of letters.  The kids will be home by three and I will need to cook them some tea - poor starving little mites that they are.  That brings us through to early evening - have to get my daily dose of 'Neighbours' and maybe follow that with some 'Home and Away' - love my Aussie soaps.  By nine o'clock, all should be quiet on the western front, kids will be in bed, hubby is safely at an Am-Dram read-through for a new play, and I shall have peace and solitude to be able to write this essay.

Now I wonder if I can just get my head down and do it now - while they are all at school/work?... I'll let you know later :)