How can I change the world and still be home in time to cook tea?

It’s early, well earlyish for a school holiday; yet again I’m not sleeping well, too many thoughts keeping my mind on overdrive.

I get up, make a cup of tea and grab my laptop. It’s been a while since I sat in bed and wrote a blog post.

One sentence, that’s all I have time to type before a child wanders in and climbs beneath the covers with me. Why can’t he sleep in like his big brother? Crossly I click and close every tab I’ve opened and slide the laptop under the bed.

I should be grateful that my thirteen year old still wants a cuddle with his mum. My close physical contact is limited these days and he is the one person who I can legitimately tickle on the tummy.

But it just serves as a reminder that I am first and foremost a mum and a single mum at that!

I’ve never had a proper career; to be honest I’ve never had a proper job title.

In the past I would quite happily fill out forms with my occupation as House Wife. 

I was a wife – I’d been chosen, after years of never even having a boy kiss me I was delighted by my change of status.

But the W word was superseded long ago now by another harsher W word.

The Mother label is all I have left, it’s not quite enough to fill my every waking minute but I don’t know what else to do?

I keep thinking something will happen… by which I mean I keep hoping Prince Charming will turn up and sweep me off my feet. Every time I go somewhere new I’m looking, waiting, wondering. As ever I am the incurable romantic who still believes in Happy Ever Afters.

Remember that bubbling excitement of waiting the other week?

Foolish fairydust most of it. Now I have to face reality get off my backside and DO something to make the changes happen.

The thing is, although I’m not ready to share it here yet, I kind of know what it is and I am making as many excuses as I can to not follow it through.

There’s a mountain looming before me too difficult to climb, I’m not prepared, certainly not good enough for the task ahead and I have to be back by 3pm to pick the kids up from school.

I bought this post card years ago and stuck it on the fridge never realising all these years later it would still hold true.

OK so the boys don’t need me in quite the same way, it has changed a lot over the last sixteen years, especially in the last two and a bit when I’ve taken on the full time role of single parent.

In some ways being a parent is my comfort zone, I’m not always good at it, there are times I wish I could go back to the beginning and start again but most of the time I do alright and it’s all I really know how to do.

Can I really go out and change the world? 

Can I make a difference?

But what worries me the most is will this potential new venture be something else I start and never finish like so many other plans and projects of the past?

There’s one thing about being a mum – you can never give it up when you get bored, when things get tough. 

Whatever happens those two special boys will always be my number one priority!

I’ve been here before...

I’m sitting by a window with the sun pouring in. The sky beyond the clouds is a perfect blue.

Funny, I drove here in the pouring rain and now feel overdressed in my “woolly pully”.

“Woolly Pully” now there’s a phrase I’ve not heard for a while, plucked from the deep recesses of my brain. A favourite of Andrew’s in his fair isle sweater days.

I’ve just had to ask for my tea, waitress service but I spied my tray sitting on the counter a while ago. The milk jug doesn’t pour well and the pot sits sullenly in a dribble of tea.

I casually wonder if I could be a mystery shopper. I would happily type up a report – not especially favourable so far, although the caramel shortbread is delicious and I don’t want to sour my day.

This isn’t exactly a pilgrimage but I vividly remember both times I’ve been here before.

The first was a rare day out with Andrew and the boys. I like revisiting the places we have walked together, knowing I am standing on the spot he might have stood. Locations where I still hear a lingering laugh are so few.

My second visit, like my third, was on my own but with more purpose. A writing day chasing dreams that sometimes seem so distant. Perhaps I should buy a card from the gift shop, one with affirming words reminding me to never give up.

So here I sit dreaming, remembering, writing like a proper writer!

People watching too I must confess.

That young lad over there looks bored, his mum so busy chatting to her friend. I haven’t seen her look or talk to him even once. What memories will he take away from here?

And there was that harassed mum in the gift shop.

“They’re not bouncy balls.” Her voice agitated as she retrieves the marbles from her son’s hand before he can do damage.

I have to laugh and share that empathetic mother-to-mother look, but she doesn’t seem amused.

Why is it the mothers that immediately catch my eye?

No wait, there’s a dad outside now running with his young son. I can see Andrew so clearly in the moment.

Families and their happy days, in the place where we once stood.

Now I spy an older couple arm in arm. Just ordinary life passing by.

It should have been me. Should have been my future.

Now I feel like the observer, watching others but never fully engaged. A half me unnoticed by a world wrapped up in other people.

My tea’s all gone and I have no reason left to linger, so I’ll take off with my thoughts, lost in my own memories.

Losing Perspective

I am very fortunate that I have reached the grand old age of 44 and still have a living grandparent. My Nana is 85 today, making her nearly a whole year younger than my mother-in-law (we squeezed an extra generation into our family tree).

My mum and I are often comparing notes over the phone on the “oldies” in our life. My mother-in-law has been practically rebuilt with 2 new knees and 2 new hips; she has hearing aids, false teeth and glasses.

My nana is a bit more nimble on her feet, depending on who’s watching her, but her biggest obstacle is her eyesight. She has dry macular degeneration in one eye and wet macular degeneration in the other! Today she is having some procedure performed which will hopefully ease some of the problems and improve her vision.

It must be terrible to live in a world where you can’t see things clearly. Sometimes I wonder which of the senses it would be more bearable to lose if I really had to pick and I always come to the conclusion that they are all vital!

There are times when we lose our way because we don’t see clearly, not necessarily in the visual sense but the sense of seeing what we’ve got, appreciating things or in the sense of understanding and having a clear path to follow.

It can’t have escaped your notice I’ve not written for a couple of days which is unusual. I’ve once again been pondering if my words make any sense, doubting if you want to hear about the silly little things going on in my world.

When I started all of this I shared what it was like to lose a husband, in a lot of ways far worse than losing any of the five senses. 

Now I am more often writing about daily living, bringing up the boys on my own, in other words more trivial stuff. Possibly things that more people can relate to but there are so many others out there writing much the same!

It was not only my writing that was suffering from lack of direction that was merely a symptom of my general mood.

We seem to have been catapulted into summer. It’s almost like we have a lost a couple of months along the way and I know several people who have been feeling out of sorts.

Suddenly it’s imperative to get the outside gardening jobs completed before the spring cleaning has even started. Not that I am great at either but I think it’s a good analogy.

I remember last year when I desperately wanted the months to fly by. To be able to somehow remove myself even further away from the point at which I had become a widow, for things to have already settled down into a new reality.

But the fact is we have to live through each season at the right time. We need time to process our emotions and deal with the pain. I can say with confidence now that it doesn’t get easier, you have to learn to cope but when people tell you that in the early days you don’t want to believe the unpalatable truths.

This unseasonal weather is a blip - I hate to bring doom and gloom but temperatures are set to drop again at the weekend. And personally I really need some time in the house to sort some things out. I need the grass to stop growing for a bit, I need a rainy day when all I can do is stay in and sort out my clutter.

I need the time and space to regain my lost perspective and see things clearly. A time to write, putting my thoughts into order.

A friend added this to her Facebook page and it fits my mood at the moment. 

Let's hope I can keep perspective, focus and aim and that something spectacular is just up ahead!

Mother's Day

The other day I found my diary from 2010, the year Andrew died. Flicking through I discovered what happened on Mothering Sunday that year.

I took oldest son to play in a tennis event an hour away, finished reading Twilight while I sat and waited but received neither card nor present. I don't think I was too impressed - "oh well!"

Andrew was brought up not to make a fuss of Mothering Sunday. Father’s Day always fell too close to Andrew’s dad’s birthday so it was omitted from their family calendar and Mother’s Day followed suit.

Yesterday I must admit I wondered what all the fuss was about myself when my two boys were arguing over spending money on me.

Maybe it really is just a marketing ploy by the card manufacturers and florists as Andrew always suspected?

Then last night I received this text…

“Sometimes you just need to hear you’re a beautiful mum doing a great job and you’re so loved”

It was one of those round robin ones where you are supposed to pass the message on so I did.

“Takes friends to tell you tho’”

Was one reply from a single mum I know.  Doing everything on your own is never easy.

“I really needed to be told that, haven’t felt like I’m doing a good job at the mo”

Was a reply from a friend who is happily married to a helpful husband. 

We ALL have times when we feel guilty and inadequate, undervalued and are often left tearing our hair out. It matters not if you are a mum on your own or you have the most wonderful husband.

That’s why Mother’s Day or Mothering Sunday is important.  I don’t care which one you call it but it is a day to make your mum feel appreciated and let her know you care.

Today, just as two years ago I travelled the same stretch of road as I took oldest son for a trial to be a ball boy at a major tennis tournament. Some things were the same but today I had a cup of tea brought to me in bed and a present wrapped in Christmas paper, it was all they could find!

Meanwhile my mum looked after youngest son.

While I was out she found her text and this was her reply to me

"just found your text, thank you dear, YOU ARE a good mum too"

So now it’s my turn to make her feel special and cook the dinner.

Happy Mother’s Day!

you have to laugh

For a mother’s day treat I took my mum and mother-in-law out for the day.

As my mother-in-law can’t walk very far she was in her wheelchair so we had to use the lift in the department store. The lift was a small one and tucked away in a corner of the menswear section. 

On the door of the lift was a life size photo of a male model advertising a particular brand, I couldn’t tell you which one so the ad campaign wasn’t especially effective.

“What does he do for you?” said my mother-in-law in her matter of fact tone. 

I think she meant why is his picture covering up the lift door or something far more innocent than how I took it…

“Actually he does quite a lot for me, or he could do very little, just stand in the corner or maybe make me a cup of tea once in a while!”

I had to giggle he was rather nice – just wish I’d had my camera on me!