‘You’re only as happy as your least happy child’. I recently read, then pondered this quote on my sunbed in deepest bluest Greece. A place of such beauty and wonder that nothing could upset the peace, calm and tranquility of the Ray Winstonesque ‘Sexy Beast’ cicada buzzing air. As I looked to my left, I could just see the rise and fall of His chest. A scan of His reddening Brit abroad body saw a tapping of the foot and a nod of a Beats clad head. Hmm, I thought, lost in the world of music. I turned, laboriously in the 40 plus heat, to my right. All the children were splashing away in the cool water of the pool. You snap the moment for comfort on s cold November day: laughter, splashing, shrieking…only that scream isn’t one of pure unadulterated joy, it’s because there’s trouble abrewing in the masses…

You see, it doesn’t matter what you do, where you go, how much effort you apply, it’s simply never enough to make them all happy. I sometimes wonder what I’m doing wrong? What essential ingredient am I missing in my recipe for motherhood? I sometimes feel like I live on a knife edge. If I don’t intervene I’m being a coward and watching a car crash in front of my eyes. Intervene and I’m the most hated woman on the earth. Both scenarios bring stress and tears. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t!

This week I heard in the news, that we spend two days – 48 hours, of our lives dealing with family problems. All I could think was – oh god is that all? I seem to live in a bad smell of child moodiness, which, for want of a more eloquent analogy, lingers like a bad fart in a room.

So why do we do it? Why do we put ourselves through such hell and damnation? The excruciating tension which emanates from a family on the edge. Him thinks it shouldn’t dominate. Him pleases himself and ignores it mostly. Tells them all to crack on and tells me to develop a thicker skin. I, on the other hand, pray for salvation and for it all to come good! I’m a fixer though and spend hours racking my brain to find equilibrium for the unit. I guess we do it to ourselves as we want the ones we love to be happy. Who takes cares of our own happiness though?

This is currently our hot topic for our usual over a bottle of (much needed sometimes) wine. My good friend tells me it’s the same for her. My other good friend seconds this. We constantly try to make everyone happy. If we open our big mouths to utter anything slightly negative we are ‘bitches’. Hated for, what seems like forever, but generally a day. We discussed stressed and snappy husbands, grumpy grandparents et al. All agreeing that we simply can’t solve everything. The constant worry of trying to get everyone to smile. Therefore extending from the children to the husband and assorted family members, it seems the opening quotation should be modified to ‘yours only as happy as your only as happy family member’.

So, as my tan developed and the heat got hotter, we decamped to the sea. A long, dusty, hot bus ride followed by a trek down a ‘Clash of the Titans’ style hill, was meant to refresh and reinvigorate – and that it did! The list of anxieties of suspected complaints (yes, it is in the job description of being a mum ‘customer service manager’) was pushed to the back of my filing cabinet labelled ‘Causes of Stress on a Family Trip’: walking back up the hill, too hot, sunbeds in incorrect position, needing copious amounts of drinks and food – or they’ll die (don’t understand cost and it being on par with Greece’s national debt) etc. Instead I focused on storing the good stuff and filing it at the front labelled ‘Happy Place’ I captured to cobbled steeets, took great breaths of the salty air, gazed up at the ancient architecture from the iridescent blue lagoon my friend and I were floating upon. I stored the children’s happiness and exhalations of praise to the Aegean. We counted fish, swan lengths and thought about nothing other than how lucky we all were to be sharing such beauty. We revelled in the lack of technology and relaxed knowing our bikini clad bodies were not being broadcast via snapchat. Him and Him’s right hand man swimming away into the open waters. Drinking it in, savouring the happiness for the dark times!

Sleeping (metaphorically) with one eye open? Knowing that for every amazing memory you create that there’ll be another ugly one to match it, is not necessarily the way to survive. Finding a way to survive family holidays and life is an acceptable solution though. So yes, I savour stuff and store it up. Recalling in quiet moments whilst running, walking, cooking, anything really that gives me time to breathe. You see we need to breathe and we forget that of each other. I’ve lost count of the amount of times these holidays that I’ve been demanded whilst I’m having a quick wee. The constant sound of a fridge being opened (depending on time of day this can be the grazing/emptying aspect of fridge-life, or can be semaphore for ‘I’m hungry why are you cooking?’). Set to the backdrop of trail of items strewn across the house as ‘it’s ok as she’s not at work and needs something to do’ Whatever the setting it requires me to be ‘food and beverage manager’ and ‘head housekeeper’ – an industry I haven’t been near as a paid member of staff since my early twenties.

The solution? I don’t know. Until a magic wand is created (and as a consequence would ruin the world) or I become a Stepford wife, it’s not easy. Like I say, I many others have ways of coping. One friend has a technique she uses which she took from a hypnotherapy session. She turns to it when times get tough. One brave lady advised that she:
‘I get in a big bath and suit myself for a couple of hours. Locking myself in the bathroom with music on loud and a scented candle cam block it out’. Wise words – block it out!

Whatever works is what I say. Inner peace and calm needs to be found so we can deal with ‘the unhappiest family member at the time’. It’s not in us to abandon those we love is it? It’s not in the job title.

Final words: enjoy and embrace the last week of the holidays. We will look back and savour the memories of these ‘carefree days’ when deeply entrenched in the mundanity of school life. Happy Bank Holiday!

Keep smiling xx

That holiday glow soon leaves but maybe the teachings leave an indelible print.

Six weeks off. Teachers. Holidays! Pah! Yes, the age old argument of how unfair it is that the teaching profession has ridiculous amounts of holidays. And before you say (those of you who are at the chalk face) ‘well no one knows what we do term time…’ I’m going to put forward a more resilient argument. True, terms are PACKED with ridiculous amounts of red tape and planning. I’m not asking for any sympathy and certainly don’t court it. However, I know what it does to the brain psychologically. Staying on top of your game; 12 hour day by long working week, puts a massive strain on teachers mentally. I could list the workload but no one needs to know that. It’s the holidays after all and we don’t need reminding…instead I think it’s more important to explore the importance of R and R.

Psychologically, high pressured jobs drain you. There is no argument there. Physical jobs also drain but afford an opportunity for the body to fully recoup and rest. Unfortunately mental strain does not help you sleep and when mixed with anxiety and worry (which becomes magnified by long days and tiredness) can keep you wide awake at night. This is why I train so much – it prompts sleep. So, as exhausted as I am by work, it doesn’t necessarily mean I am able to have a super refreshing sleep. The cycle is one of tiredness and hard work is they only way out: mental and physical. For example: if I don’t mark a set of books ‘that night’ it’s on my mind. Therefore have to do them.
Consequence is: I’ve not done anything to unwind. Therefore 10.30pm dog walk it is (lucky Rosie dog). Right, that’s enough of the problem. As I said, this isn’t here to remind…

Six glorious weeks always stretch out like a annual golden chalice which we are lucky enough to hold. Colleagues count the number of days (from September) to the next holiday, Christmas and even the hallowed six weeks! Are we greedy? Some would say yes but what if say is the following ‘it means I can be me’. The six weeks means I can go on holiday and not worry about workload when I get back (I go away at the beginning). It means I can be a mum without any distractions. The middle one says ‘we can tell when mum goes back to work as we get rubbish teas’. She’s got s point. I recently had a discussion with my head where I expressed the point that ‘these kids in this school are my kids’. I then told her that unfortunately, as is the nature of my job, that they get more of my time and attention than my own children.

The holidays also allow me to relax, enjoy life and actually sleep (It can take me two weeks to begin sleeping properly. That means for the other 48 weeks of the year I’m living on a sleeping knife edge). Additionally, my inability to sit and watch a programme on the telly box has been (temporarily I’d suggest) conquered by my feeling of calm and tranquility. I don’t sit there worrying about my to do list. I lay there and think about nothing. This is a rarity for me and as guilty as it could make me, I know, deep down, that it’ll all soon end; even when I start the new year with the best of intentions.

What frustrates me is we don’t value our time enough (this extends to others valuing your time too). We ask so much of each other and want things done instantly. The pressure to perform instantly can become unbearable – I blame technology for this. So much so I think my family think I’m a walking talking Martini sponsored Google search engine, who is available for questioning: any time, any place, anywhere. Evidence is: during a recent migraine, I had taken myself off to bed to try and sleep it off. However, I was found by every family member wanting something of me. I just needed a sleep but they couldn’t possibly wait to have their questions answered. But, when work is on the back burner and the email can be turned off, I can breath cleaner air. Time off allows me to think and you can’t put a price on that. It opens up new opportunities. My head is clearer and this enables me to sort things out. We don’t think and reflect enough as the fast pace (and family) of modern life doesn’t allow it.

So, two weeks to go and although I’m entrenched in domesticity, I’m doing alright. The Greek glow might be fading (my goodness already planning next year as it’s ‘what I go to school for’), but also my family is well fed and in order. The Rosie dog is loving all the walks and the house is super tidy. All good. Mostly, I feel rested. When I think back to the last term I see one fraught with a busy packed to do list and endless deadlines. I didn’t celebrate my big birthday. I stopped blogging. I I felt very low and lonely. I was just too exhausted to think straight and no one can tell when you just need looking after. Therefore, to lead a life I’m content and proud of, I need to take comfort of the teachings of these summer holidays: rest and relaxation is an under promoted and precious thing, I have, and will continue to, cherish my happy summer memories made and hold them tight in my heart. I will endeavour to cook good food for my beauties; keep the house homely; get back blogging; and I shall continue (as hard as it will be) to sit for at least half an hour a day, to watch the telly!

Fingers crossed for a sunny last fortnight!!

Being reflective (as I often am) I couldn’t help my feelings of immense pride at being British this week. This is no new thing but it is something which was brought to the forefront of my mind after watching the horrific events unfold at Grenfell Tower. I’m sure, like me, you saw the first flushes of news and thought ‘how terrible’ and ‘poor families’ (I’m not being flippant just bear with) I don’t think any of us expected the tragedy which developed over the coming hours; after all, we live in the 21st century, not a Dickensian society.

Without going into the events of the whole terrible and unavoidable disaster, I want to focus on our nation and how we’ve dealt with yet more loss and devastation.

The respect and admiration I feel for my fellow human beings is felt in abundance and here’s why: we are amazing. To see all these people come together on the streets of a busy and faceless community is humbling and awe inspiring. People from all walks of life with open arms, giving up their homes, possessions and time to help all involved. No matter of race, colour or religion. No one cared who they were helping. As the bible says ‘love thy neighbour’ and they bloody did. People just wanted to help. Frustratingly, I wanted to help. Living 100 miles away it wasn’t possible.

As a nation I’m not sure how much more we can take. Seeing our Queen visiting the victims of our latest tragedy made me proud and love her even more. How heartbreaking for her? To continue with humanity and love. The English reserve firmly in place but filled with respect and support for all. She didn’t care they were black or white. She never commented if they were refugees. She never judges. How much compassion did you see her hold in her gaze? Tell me we don’t need a royal family. She proves that we undeniably do. I for one took so much comfort from knowing she was there.

Then I thought back to the three recent terror attacks and (like you all) feel we’ve lost so much as a nation lately. I reflected on my last visit to London: a multicultural world of vivacious colour and sound.

And I laughed.

I thought about those who were trying to poison young minds. Those who prayed on the vulnerable; like drug dealers, pushing their dangerous and damaging propaganda at lost souls wanting answers to life. Those of horrific views pedalled about: race, migrants, class and religion. Tiny narrow minds so tunnelled that they only believe in their superiority as in their own race. Fascists as bad as the terrorists. You know I don’t like lumping together but in this case I make an exception; worthless no marks whose whole belief system is based on making misery and disaster for the greater good. Well guess what? They’ve no effing chance. That’s why I laughed.

We are blinking amazing. The majority of us don’t give a fig about any of the labels that are attached to the inhabitants of our crazy and turbulent world; we just care. This is clearly evident when you look around you. The passion and power we exude as a collective is far greater than any of those war making mongerers. We don’t want unrest. We don’t want destroying. We don’t (as the election proved) want messing with. We want stability as a nation. We want to be! And what a bloody great bunch we are too!

And then I thought back to my earlier statement about the frustration of not being able to do anything…I can do something! I will thank my lucky stars everyday that I have a family, friends and a warm loving home. Life isn’t perfect, but it can be threatened in many ways. I am incredibly lucky. I will not take my good fortune for granted. And if I do I will remind myself of the two brothers from Syria…they thought they’d escaped the worst only to be let down by what appears to be penny pinching and dangerous cutting of corners. I will love my neighbour and endeavour to try and do the right thing as humanly possible. If I see someone in need I will down tools and offer my support. I’ve said it before and I’m shouting it again: ‘Be Kind’ and as a nation we can continue to smile and love in these adverse times.

It’s not until you stop. Really stop. That you realise that your dreams can be caught. Dreams are something which shape us, build us up, motivate us. They’re the mood changing game changers.

What’s your dream?
I bet you have a list. I know I do. My list (won’t call it a bucket list as that makes it sound like I’m cramming my beautiful ideals into a plastic smelly round thing). Is full of bejewelled fantasies of intense joy and wonderment. Some attainable; some hard to reach like that scratch on my back. Why, you ask, am I rambling on about ‘My Life List of Dreams’? Well, it’s like this, I’ve had a bit of time on my hands and it got me thinking…

I’ll start with the ‘time on my hands’ part of the statement. Yesterday I went to a spa to luxuriate in all things sweet smelling and fluffy robed. Hours we spent in heavenly scented steam rooms (apart from one which smelt like a public toilet). An hour and a quarter was spent in an outdoor hot tub – it would have been rude not to. A jog at the gym whilst I waited for yoga to start ‘cos I could’. (Seriously, I’m still so relaxed I’m horizontal). And the products? My goodness, the place was packed with fabulous things to sample. Also (my favourite thing) was wall mounted moisturiser – it’s got to catch on!! As a queen connoisseur of luxury (if it’s not soft, beautifully fragrant, wonderfully radiating gorgeousness etc I’d say don’t bother) i revelled in the whole sumptuousness of the whole shebang. I loved that you could ask for new towels and robes from the front desk, whenever yours got slightly damp. As a result I want there to be a spa on my doorstep. I’d actually be willing to sell one of my children just so I could have platinum membership (well not child. Husband maybe). And although we had to share all these areas of relaxation with similar groups of women, I didn’t care. The fact they liked to listen intently and frown at our discussions, did not deter me from continuing (their lives obviously needed spice. Even the man, who I later discovered was a woman). However. It felt like the whole place seemed shrouded in money. Therefore, unlike the women who were hamming up their English to RP quality, I decided to lower the tone by telling the waitress that ‘I’m a lottery winner and would never normally be able to afford such opulence’.

By half past one, after already doing a circuit of the place, stuffing myself with a three course lunch plus a cheeky V and T, I was ready for a snooze. So, off i went to tuck myself into a little nest like pod thing in the ‘slumber room’. Now, as accustomed and excited as I am about napping in the day, this was another thing entirely. Wrapped in my white robe and sated from the food and drink, I drifted into a mindless state of relaxation and wonder. You see, there were no children lurking around the corner, no Disney channel infiltrating my dazed state and no doggy desperate for attention and walkies. This room had a nest. This room had no sound. This room was dark. And this room had no contact with the outside world. Bliss.

Whilst drifting in and out of consciousness, I started to let go of the worries which were crowding me. Such stuff consisting of house, work and children, I decided, was never going away, but easy to dismiss into the box ‘it’ll all come good’. This positive trend continued when I realised my worries were narrowing my vision and that I needed to get cracking on my new life list. After all when you’re approaching a certain age it’s time for reflection and adjustments.

This though is easier than you’d think. Now then, there’s lots of things I’ve never done such as: sky diving, swimming with sharks and that train journey through India. However, I am very lucky and have had some amazing and exhilarating adventures. Also, dreams have to be attainable to some degree (unless someone builds a spa locally that platinum membership will never happen). I’m a realist and don’t like the stomach lurching disappointment of stuff not coming off. So, it’s these facts that make it tricky. Goalposts, are what I set in these circumstances. I have to set a criteria and it consists of the following:

1. ALL DREAMS NEED TO BE BRAND NEW. Don’t repeat anything. Memories are to be treasured so don’t go back and be disappointed.
2. ALL DREAMS NEED TO BE ATTAINABLE IN THE NEXT FIVE YEARS. No pipe dreams allowed.
3. ALL DREAMS NEED TO BE FUN AND NON-NEGOTIABLE. Life’s too short.
4. ALL DREAMS REQUIRE TRAVEL. I love to see new stuff. Dream job? Travel writer.

That is all.

So with criteria in mind and with yet another list to write, I felt ready to shape my life for the next five years.

But it’s not that easy…
In situations like this, it appears you have to consider those around you. Earlier today I expressed one of my considered items to someone who replied ‘well that’s rather self indulgent’. Does that mean I have to consider others in my dreams? Hmmm…I think I need another lay down in my nest.

Therefore, list pending.

TBC

.

I might cry in my bed,
Bitter tears of anger and dread.
How to tell my beauties of more evil in the world,
Or how to hide my horror that the monsters have once more hurled.

Tears falling readily, too readily…
Anxiety bubbling from the pit of my soul.
An ideology? What’s ideal about this?
All I can see, all of us together, it’s wrong…

That’s the thing, the knife twisting in.
The way we all: whoever we are, hold hands and smile.
Like we should. After all that’s what our lives are for
To grow together, intertwine and loving it. Wanting more.

So we fight on with words
Of strength. Coming together fighting these horrors.
Taking innocence but never our resolve.

Terror will never win, we are all too strong for that.
You, whoever you are,
We will unashamedly hold hands, stand side by side and fight this twisted and evil war.

As it’s Ramadan and all that. And, as I’m not Muslim but totally get the spirituality of the whole shebang, I thought I’d ‘fast’ in a way where I’m purging myself of the Facebook. The unnecessary rubbish peddled daily, no hourly, lets me honest – by the second, on this great platform we now lump within the ‘socialising’ label,

Now, you know my feelings about this particular site, but I feel compelled to ‘share’ my latest discovery with you all. It’s no startling revelation and it certainly has not taught me anything new, but what it has done is provide me with a ‘joie de vivre’ and new focus for my day to day life.

Actually, this is mostly a big fat lie…the only bit of truth is that I’ve logged off (In fact I think I might have deactivated my Facebook).

Here’s why:

So, I’m going to set my stall out: ‘The Fear’ is taking a hold. Part of the nuclear fall out of this is that Facebook has had to be binned off. The following points will explain why.

1. Birthday looming
2. The mirror tells me that I’m no spring chicken
3. I wanted to go on a fabulous holiday and pretend it’s ALL not happening but I seem to keep buying bricks and skips with my money

Only three. However, three biggies.

The first point fills me with terror. I used to love my birthday as a child but with age came wisdom. I realised it wasn’t the Holy Grail of the year and that I’m not the ‘The Birthday Princess’ like I was when I was 7. You see I was spoilt. My lovely mum used to spoil me with surprises galore!!

For example:
– The airplane flyby which dropped a card for me fresh from the sky, when I was 6.
– The appearance of a treehouse in the corner of my garden on the afternoon of my birthday. We (kids spilling off school bus) legged it into my garden and scrambled up the ladder. Age 10.
– The time we all went to the local airfield and flew over all the places in Lincolnshire and Yorkshire we’d ever lived and stopped for dinner. Age 12

You see, it was never about the gifts for me but more about the fun and X factor of the day. My mum, was (and still is) the best person in the world to make you feel great on your special day. The flip side is that I peaked too soon. Nothing now can ever live up to being whisked away to watch the Northern ballet after school, with a smoked salmon and prawn car-picnic, on an evening (it was A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I met them all afterwards). Age 9?

Also, I have this embedded notion that people pretend to be nice to me because it’s my birthday. Quite frankly, I’d like people to be kind all year long! I find it all rather embarrassing and I’m not worthy of any attention ‘who does she think she is?’ And my paranoia makes me sense laughter and harsh words behind my back. Being the birthday girl just spotlights it. After all, my mum is allowed to spoil and indulge her little girl. I don’t ever expect to be treated that way by anyone else. It’s easier to just pretend it’s all not happening…

Number two. Now, it could be the new mirrors and the light being cast into my bedroom from a different angle (somehow I doubt it) but I’m looking rather old and ropey when I cast an eye. Gone is my youthful glow and instead I feel surrounded by a beige hue of old lady and saggy bloated limbs. To be quite honest I feel utterly rubbish and tearful about the whole thing. This was all magnified by the fact that Amanda Holden seems to have metamorphosed into a sleek, chic, ageless glamourpuss. This revelation has left me both mesmerised by her and turning off the tellybobs in equal measures. Every time she graces the BGT screen, I covert her whole look and spend my whole time working out how to obtain it rather watching the ‘acts’ (managed to watch the final though and got to say it but standards are definitely slipping – only two worthy winners, the rest you’d see at the holiday park as back up). To tell you the truth, my Amanda mini obsession/envy has resulted in me missing most of BGT this year and becoming more and more disgruntled that I’m going in the wrong direction…

Point three: well, what can I say? It’s very boring spending money on things which look neither pretty nor feel hot and sunny. My goodness, how I long for radiant 40 degree heat and the rich blue shimmer of the Aegean Sea. It’s what I crave, day in, day out for the other 350 days of the year (this is NO LIE and what gets me through the dark days). It’s no secret that me and Him want to move there permanently one day. To wake up every morning and take in the bluest waters and volcanic rocks which majestically stand above the sea. How many times have we walked along the shore or laid on a beach watching a golden sunset like no other in the world? Or how many times have we absorbed the beauty of the stars filtering through the curtain of night? All with the distinct feeling Pegasus is awaiting the other side of the craggy peaks. Yes poetic, but we’ve seen stuff too amazing to label. So, sorry, well not really sorry, as much as my house is looking good, my heart, mind and tired restless limbs ache for the feel of a rocky Greek beach beneath my feet. I long to wake up to the brilliant Bougainvillea framing my open shutters. I dream about the transparent waters cocooning my tired, old and worn body; reinvigorating me for another long year. As lovely as my home is looking, it’s not Greece. Ideally, we’d be island hopping for three weeks. Best Buy a Lotto ticket…

Therefore, to calm my mind and self, I have gone into ‘Survival Mode’. This has involved: leaving Facebook – no one can wish me happy birthday, won’t see pictures of people looking glam and young, won’t see hollibob pics. Praying and rubbing the Buddha constantly, making sure my elephants are aligned, putting a new eye to ward off evil at the front door. And finally as it has all infiltrated my dreams; making me feel rubbish, I am now meditating on an hourly basis.

However, this all comes with a disclaimer. I do realise (don’t ever think I don’t) how super lucky I am. I also realise that these are first world problems. I also understand that my past has spoilt me for my future. My problem is that when June hits I start to fall into a dark pit of despair. I secretly want to be excited and happy but I’m scared that it’ll not meet expectations. Falling into an abyss of despair because, for example: Him has forgotten my birthday (he did one year. Age 23) is not an option. So, ‘The Fear’ has struck.

So I can’t lie. I’m not fasting, I’m hiding. Like I say honesty is the best policy.

A final note. This blog was written before the awful events in London last night. I am running out of reassuring words for my children (and many more by tomorrow morning) as we increasingly find ourselves heartbroken and angry at the evil and cruelty in the world. Now more than ever we need to remember each other. We need to think about making each other smile. A few weeks ago I suggested we just ‘Be Kind’ (it seems someone had nicked my coinage and hashtagged it and Sir Richard Branson was spouting it on Twitter and Him thought I was trending – hmmm). Everyone we know is fighting a battle of some kind. Never assume that lives are perfect – no such thing. Life is too short to not live it by smiling. So I’m reiterating over and over my simple mantra ‘Be Kind’ as it helps even those living in the darkest of shadows sense light.

Life is something uncontrollable. It can be something that smacks us in the face and question the point to this mortal coil. It can also be a massive blast. Big belly laugh moments and punctuated by glimmers of pure joy. This inconsistent rollercoaster is something none of us find easy (don’t listen to anyone who tells you any different – they’re liars). It’s twists and turns can tie us up in knots and make us scream in equal measures of both joy and sadness. However, there’s one thing that keeps us on our toes and that’s how ironic it can be.

Irony:
a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often wryly amusing as a result.
plural noun: ironies
“the irony is that I thought he could help me”

Now, although irony can be highly amusing – I particularly find it ironic I ended up teaching when I hated school…I also find my life is built on ironies. Which, with this realisation, I have turned a once ‘uptight and manic’ woman into a more ‘laid back and passive’ one. Yes, I’m still a worrier (mainly about ‘The Fear’) but I no longer overthink every scenario within an inch of its life. That’s why, when people judge me for my crappy parenting and life choices I just grin and carry on.

You see, I thought I’d got it all planned out. Felt (smugly) I could write a handbook. The joke was on me though, turns out I’ve not got the foggiest and after many tears and soul searching, I realised that I didn’t actually need the answers. Life’s little ironies are a way of telling us to take a leap of faith.

So, when people thought I was mad ‘what you doing your 18 year old daughter to go abroad on her own to work?’ There were shouts of ‘what about the terrorists?’. You see everyone has an opinion and as a mother, I totally get the inclination to wrap all my children in bubble wrap, dress them alike and keep them in pigtails until the age of thirty. But that was before…

About ten years ago I was a fanatical mother who organised everything around her children. Every aspect of their lives was planned for happiness and success. I spent hours planning, shopping (it requires a great deal of shopping to coordinate) and enjoying my beautiful three. We made beautiful picture book memories with days out, holidays and family nights in. But then, they started to grow.

With growth comes independent thinking. As a strong willed person myself, I encourage this and (rightly or wrongly) they begin to make their own decisions. This is where being a mummy becomes sticky; how do you let them make their own choices, without saying the wrong thing and pushing them away? Thing is, when you see one of them hurtling towards a disaster, you instinctively want to grab hold and save them. What happens though is they don’t always want saving. They just want to grow into their own person. So another rule of motherhood is to be clever and be a forward thinker.

Therefore, I knew what I was doing. Working for a reputable company, provided with food and accommodation and the opportunity to experience life. We were all so happy and proud. The distant voices from concerned people who said ‘I can’t believe you let her travel to Turkey on a boat!’ My reply being ‘what on a boat she sells trips on?’ Seriously!

So what is the irony? The irony is that being abroad is the safesr and wisest choice she could have made. Two reasons:
1. She would have been at Manchester at that gig on Monday night.
2. We’d never have discovered she was ill and needed medical care.

It’s as simple as this:
One, without her new job she’d have gone to that gig (already said yes) as her oldest friends plus one.
Two, it took the penniless Greek healthcare system, a tiny island specialist, to X-ray and diagnose a broken collar bone and twisted spine. Damage which occurred during a car accident twelve months ago. Damage which was missed by our own NHS.

Scary isn’t it? Pathways, fate, what could have been…

The irony isn’t lost on me. That leap of faith I take to get me through the twists and turns of life seems to be working. Scary as it is, it’s working! I just keep going and my mantra ‘keep the faith’ is keeping me strong. Because trying to control the uncontrollable is simply too exhausting!  Therefore my handbook has been reduced to the the size of a simple sentence ‘what will be…’

Weather or not you agree, the daily forecast is the single most thing which is central to our emotional wellbeing. Rain can upset the balance of a mere opening of the curtains, snow can bring the whole country to a standstill and delight many a child and teacher with the words ‘snow day’, and a slight gust of wind can be monikered as ‘storm Dorris or Dave’.

Weather, it appears, has increasingly become more and more newsworthy. Hyped up like the ‘big game’ and discussed like a celebrity wedding or royal birth. Who doesn’t sit glued to the news crews stand knees deep in flood waters and thank god it’s not us? Our morbid curiosity compelling us to watch how far up the lamppost the waters have risen. How many times have you turned on NBC to hurricane watch? I remember spending hours following Hurricane Sandy. My night’s entertainment was watching buildings precariously wobble and glamorous reporters battling wind and rain to report the size of the waves on the ocean front. Disgusting isn’t it? Why would that be entertaining?

But that’s the thing, I’m a realist. I can’t stand anything fake and fanciful. I don’t see the appeal of vampires (no can’t stand Rpatz) and I can’t bear The Doctor (sorry I do realise I’ve alienated many of you). It’s just not real and I love the real. People watching, observing life and relationship building are what float my boat. My book (slow process and I’ll get there) is very much of that ilk. Deeply deconstructed relationship and a melting pot of personalities intertwine a narrative spanning a hundred years. And guess what? The weather always takes centre stage. ‘Pathetic fallacy’ as we call it in the trade. Sets the mood. So what’s my mood?

So, the rain. As we all know we can see summer on the tips of toes. Little snatches; teasers of summer promise have been tantalising us for weeks. However, since working on my garden (not finished but getting there) the days have been mostly dark and full of rain. Not only that but we had a spell of frost that threatened my new plants! It’s like the weather gods were pointing and laughing at my naivety!!

God Aeolus ‘Oi, you! Have you seen that daft mare?
God Zeus ‘She does realise we are going to ruin all her handiwork as much as her daft Rosie Dog has?’

Upshot is my new outside space is very underused and rather battered!

Also, it plays tricks on you. Yesterday I was lulled into a false sense of security. Whilst walking with beautiful friend, child and god children on the beach, I announced ‘let’s have a BBQ as it’s so lovely’ (sun was shining and I had no coat on). We all agreed it was a fabulous idea as we sat eating our ice creams. Cut to me happily walking back from the butchers, swinging my bag of meat and being all smug about shopping local and cutting out the supermarket fat cat. Yes, that’s right, not only was the sun shining, I’d also got the whole saving the local retailer thing nailed too (my veg was being delivered shortly). You know where this is going don’t you? The word ‘smug’ gives it away. I looked up and a large black cloud was looming on the horizon (yes but literally and metaphorically). Two words: indoor BBQ.

Therefore, imagine my surprise and delight when waking from my wonderful Saturday/Sunday slumber (best night for sleeping ever) that not only was the sun shining, it was so super strong it had dried up the garden and lifted the whole mood of the house immensely. All areas of work (home and school) were sacked off in favour of eating all fresco, sunbathing and (when eventually peeled myself off the lounger) a leisurely walk along the beach. We even (much to child hysteria) shelved Sunday dinner plans and stuck a little Greek dish in the oven instead. In fact, the whole day turned into a Greek adventure: homemade tzatziki for lunch, lamb cleftiko for dinner and homemade frappes to cool off. Even the sea looked a little Aegean if you squinted. And tonight the house is still full of sunny vibes and sated bodies. We are even saying ‘if it’s nice like this at half term…’. Yeah, right! Guaranteed if it had been rubbish weather we’d have been moaning all day and saying ‘if it’s been nice we could have jet washed…’ ha! No, we did nothing! In your face jobs list!

This much needed glorious and relaxing day has lifted us all amazingly! Not only that, it’s made up for the relentless rain of Wednesday (which my mum decreed could be ignored if I put my music on). It’s also given us hope for the coming weeks…Cue the hay fever reports, severe weather warnings of it being ‘too hot’ (no such thing says she who gets the monk on when it’s anything less than 40 degrees when on my jollies) and hose pipe bans as we’ve not had enough water (hang on a minute, we were flooding back in January). It’s all we will talk about tomorrow ‘oh what a lovely day it was’ and ‘had anyone read the reports for next week?’ We are obsessed! Moreover I’ve checked: hallelujah Helios! It’s going to be quite a week. So slap on your cream, enjoy that garden chair you never get chance to use and dig out your shorts and flip flops, for once the weather gods are smiling down on is.

Enjoy you lovely lot.

A note: please do not point any blame at me if my forecast is wrong. My information comes directly from my iPhone app and I’m not trained by the Met Office (Although I quite fancy the weather girl job in another life).

How did that happen? Blink and you’d think they’d been no weekend. It doesn’t help that the levels of exhaustion reached a record high last week. Culminating in a rambling wreck come 6.30pm Friday (no, not even touched a drop). Power nap was decreed but awoken by a Rosie Dog. So watched Masterchef and had a sausage sandwich. Then was sick (due to lethargy) and I retired to bed before the clock struck 10!! Friday night? How very dare my body collapse on me on my favourite night. Then ten hours (that is a world record for me!) later I was up and ready to…work!!

You see, it was raining and I had stuff to do. I then finished that and started the house work. Now, this is no moany rant, just a prelude to what I really need to say, which is: I feel the need to reclaim my life. What I mean by that is, I’ve got to stop putting the unimportant stuff (jobs, work, cleaning…) first and instead focus on the important stuff – mainly people.

Ironically, this reflective and somewhat ‘long time coming’ mood was brought on after a particularly long Wednesday work day. A day where at 5.30pm I was still in a meeting discussing ‘work/life balance’. Ha! I thought, I’ve got this nailed. I’m so organised and I’m still breathing. My children are well cared for and I even have time to walk the Rosienator and do my fitness stuff. However, this is bum fluff and I’ll tell you why! I’ve lost my way and in the process have missed some really important things. I’ve mislaid friendships and let my core belief system slip. I’ve been selfish and blinkered myself so I don’t burn out. So things got to change…

You see, I’ve had a couple of wake up calls. Firstly, a friend I lost touch with nine years ago has died after a long and tragic battle with cancer. The bastard disease has ripped a beautiful 35 year old woman from her new husband and their 5 children. Did I know she was ill? No. I lost touch and in this hectic life I think we are all guilty of letting stuff slip. This truly beautiful soul was there for us when Him was ill. Reading her plight I also discovered they’d been fundraising for her last wishes to be granted and she’d been living in a hospice. My goodness, what I’d do to turn back time and be able to do something, anything and to say goodbye.

With shock and grief comes thinking time. We are only in May and I have had so many people around me struggling with terrible things. I know how it feels to be shrouded in loss and when I reflect on my darkest hours, I know the isolation, anger and numbness which follows. That black cloud which hovers overhead and won’t just monkey off. This is where I got my second reminder…

Whilst unpacking boxes (yes still after five months) I found some wonderful things that need to be on display: pictures, vases and, for want of a better word ‘ornaments’ (makes me think of dusty mini statuettes of girls with posies, cast in white porcelain with ‘made in China’ stamped on its bottom). Anyway, in amongst these sentimental artefacts, I found various things a friend has bought me over the years. Things, which not bought as occasion gifts, but gifts bought as affectionate ‘thank yous’ and ‘to cheer me up’. This friend had been there for me (and me for her) for thousands of years. A trusted and valued member of my community and a firm friend of epic proportions. Nothing, I say, nothing, would ever stop me loving her. Guess what? We drifted apart. And I got to thinking; how could I let someone so special to me slip away? Racked with guilt and embarrassment of my stupidity I mused over my shortfall in the friendship department yet again, Guess what I did next? I swallowed my pride, bit the bullet and text her! Boy am I glad that I did. Lovely (and equally heartfelt/apologetic response) and we are heading to be back on track.

With both realisations in mind, I made a resolution:

‘To remember what comes first: family, friends, life then. work.’

Buoyed by this I sacked work off, met my mum, stopped (although busy) in the supermarket to chat to people I know, met my friends in the pub and today sent my oldest friend a, longer than usual, Facebook message. And this is just a small selection! All these little things and made me feel good and reminded me that I must try harder.

NB. I also intended to text one friend about her daughter playing as she was upset (but too late even I remembered), another about her son (I’ll do so in a bit) and still have two condolence cards to write and a parcel for the big one in Greece to seal.

I’ve known for a while that I’ve had missing pieces (no, not the screw!) but through my own hardships I’ve had to lockdown and protect myself. Life wasn’t easy for us for a while and I was often floundering for a hand to hold. Do you know what? I had no idea how to ask. No one could give me what I needed, therefore I just stopped trying. I was lost for a time and no doubt will be again. So, to make my life better and stronger I’m going to put back all those missing pieces with a smile. Life’s too short to put these things off. I want to spend it with all you beautiful people who I love. Sod my tiredness, let’s feel the happiness and love around us.

Grab someone’s hand and run with it!

This week’s blog is dedicated to Leah

https://www.derrynow.com/news/terminally-ill-bride-gets-wedding-dreams-derry-sweetheart/149305

Well, battling more like! Bit of.a moan (sorry) about the constant treadmill that we trundle along…what for? Yes, I’m rambling (clue in title) but ‘cuze me’ for being stroppy but seeing as it seems to be a prerequisite in my immediate household, then I think I’m allowed!

It all started with the migraine last week. Head crashing, body in exhaustion, a general virus of narcolepsy (yes I know it’s a condition but please see opening paragraph) ensued (I kid you not I was nodding standing up). Anyway, headache persisted and, as any of you hard working mummies will understand, with it came a household which came to a standstill. The ruins of the Acropolis had nothing on me when casting an eye over the house. Too tired to do ‘owt’, mop stagnating, bins overflowing and a laundry basket mushrooming to the point of creating a Tsunami of jumble out into adjoining rooms.

I did what I could and knew that ‘work’ had to take priority (pile of marking and lessons to plan) otherwise I would have a whole host of children twiddling their thumbs and starting a mutiny in my ‘tidy’ classroom (bless them they’d tided up whilst I was sick). So, for self preservation and sanity I neglected the children, Him, the house and my doggy (let alone the previous promises of improving image) to concentrate on what I get paid to do.

However, now we are in nuclear fallout zone and I’m in danger of migraine/narcolepsy relapse. Why you ask? (That would be those of you who have well ordered and uncomplicated lives which don’t involve husbands, children and furry friends). Yes, I’m now battling the decay creeping in from ‘taking ones eye off the ball’ for the past couple of weeks.

You see, I’ve been having dreams. Heavy, fitful and epic adventures, which, were like watching a mini series (I prefer the eighties term to the now socially acceptable ‘box set’ which connotes something you’d buy from Victoria’s Secret) back to back. Dreams which were so long and convoluted that it felt like I’d done a days work by the time I’d woken up. In fact, one dream had me waitressing a full dinner service in my dad’s old restaurant and I couldn’t wake up until I’d relaid all the tables at the end of service (always on the job me). Therefore, my dream tiredness was killing me so I had to find a way out – reclaiming my house. I thought if I put the house and affairs in order I could rest easy and regain restful sleep (bit like Facebook ‘what’s on my mind?’ Everything!!)

Simple? No. Not only was the sofa covered in muddy footprints, my family were emotionally distressed at my ‘absence’ due to brain fog and work crap. To set the tone, even Rosie Dog played up through lack of attention; Him being blocked when trying to leave the house – the little minx wanted to play!! Not only has she been needy and demanding on the ‘play’ and ‘walkies’ front, she’s also ruined my half finished (well ’twas) garden.

Children neglected meant ridiculously messy bedroom and disorganised lives. Little E shockingly went to London in an old cardi as we couldn’t find her best (only school) one in the ‘bomb site’. Middle child had a ‘can’t find my bag’ meltdown which resulted in missing a dance class, and the big one had to be coached through ‘prickly heat’ on FaceTime as I was too ill to give my medical advice before she left for a summer of: gyros (chips filled pitta everyday she reckons), Turkish fakes and selling boat trips for tips.

Worryingly and (anxiety levels rising) scarily, Him had been left to his own devices which enabled him to build mountains of crap on any available area of space. Also, through my general lethargy he’d begun to think he was in charge around here! This morning I took back the reins.

It wasn’t pretty. I was quite shouty and because the rot had started to set in, I had to cut it out before it started to spread, we had to go back to basics. They all needed reminding that we lived in a home and not a squat (it does resemble one at times). Mops, buckets, cloths, steamer and Hoover were distributed and orders given. Bottom lips were picked up from the floor as ‘do you see me sulking?’ And the washer has been on non-stop since (as if it’s ever off). God, I’m wasted. I should have been an army major. Even the dog got her orders for how to behave and what to do. There was rebellion on the battlefield – dog was the worst as when bathed she ran outside and dug a massive muddy hole, but they all got it in the end.

Upshot is my house looks tidy and smells clean. I’ve had time to bathe luxuriously (well 15 minutes anyway) and harmony seems to be restored. Downside? Headache back and I’m going for a lay down!

Moaning aside, I am now going to enjoy my nearest and dearest for the remainder of this ‘day of rest’. That is, bask in the glory of a beautiful family in a clean home. Everything in order. No stress and with the knowledge they’ll be no panic in the morning. That is before Tuesday morning when it’ll all unravel and go to pot. Would I have it any other way? An uncomplicated life? A lotto win? No, would I bugger! (Well maybe a cheeky £50k on the lotto would do). My life might be stupid busy and I might be juggling many balls at once but I’m a lucky lady. So, although I sound like some sort of demented witch, who no one likes due to high maintenance and being a bit OCD, I’m loved and I love. So maybe it is simple and maybe (I can say this now I’ve put my house in order) I should just smile and be happy.

One last thought, my horoscope tells me I need to look at my work/life balance. Answers on a postcard please…