Monthly Archives: July 2012

Essential Food Group

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One of Bear’s favourite places is the Larder, the café near school in the opposite direction from home. He’s been known to dig in his heels and refuse to move unless it’s towards the Larder (a ploy that doesn’t work!) Most of the time, I say no. We are often doing something else, or I can’t justify the expense. This afternoon he said, ‘Mummy, please can we go to the Larder?’ I was happy he’d asked nicely and it’s been a while so over the road we went.

Bear had a smoothie and a chocolate-bean-biscuit. I went for a flat-white. The Larder do the best coffee on the High Street (which is saying something!) and the most elegant milky-coffee-leaf on top of the flat-white. I was also desperate for chocolate. I haven’t had any in the house for days and I haven’t been near a supermarket due to a food-glut. The stuff you can buy in the newsagents doesn’t come close for me. So there we were, just the two of us indulging in our favourite treats and catching up on Bear’s school day (another caterpillar has turned into a chrysalis – I seriously hope they make it to butterflydom. Bear expects.)

Anyway, I feel loads better now. The moral of the story – never run out of chocolate. Never let the secret stash be completely depleted, especially when there isn’t even as much as a mint chocolate at the back of the fridge.

A New Way of Living

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My Dad and I are drinking tea and watching Newsnight. Dogford is contentedly curled on the rug and so is Eeyore, although I’m not sure why. I’ve got a to-do list the length of the room and a pile of ironing to the ceiling. But somehow, everything feels right with the world. Dad is here. Bear and I went to collect him from Auntie’s where he’s been for the past two weeks. Auntie won’t get a break exactly, but she will at least have some freedom from the relentless responsibility. That’s what Auntie and I can do. We can give one another a break.

We are mindful that we have a shared responsibility. We know we have to check with one another before we arrange to go away, even for a night. Going anywhere together for more than half a day is out of the question.

Dad has always been there for us. Over the years, he has cared for our children, taken Dogford out for countless walks, made a million cups of tea and coffee. The sink was always empty of washing up when he was about. One of the most thoughtful things he did was playing with the children whenever my friends visited, so that we mums could talk for a bit. Heaven knows there’s little opportunity with little ones. Heaven knows we needed it!

He would never accept thanks for anything. He just wanted to make our lives easier. Over the past few months, Dad has had to get used to a new way of living. He is no longer as mobile or active. He can’t really do much for us anymore. He’s had to understand that while we appreciated the help, the main thing was being together. That hasn’t changed. It’s just that we’ve changed places. He understands that he needs more help day-to-day but still he doesn’t take it for granted. It’s not about paying it back. It’s not about being fair. It’s just people who love one another doing what they can. And even if we were counting, don’t worry Dad, you’ve still got loads of credit in your account!

For the love of a teddy

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Bear came out of school on Friday clutching a very large blue bag. I didn’t need to ask what was in it. He was jumping up and down and the joy spread across his face left no room for doubt. It was finally his turn to bring home the class teddy for the weekend. Each week he has been disappointed that it wasn’t his turn – again! It’s very difficult to explain to a five-year-old that there are twenty nine other five-year-olds who want the same thing and they can’t all have it at the same time.

I’m ashamed to say that I was far from delighted to see his quarry. We had a busy weekend planned and I couldn’t see how we were going to fit in the necessary photographing, printing and writing in teddy’s book. When we got home and read about teddy’s adventures, I was even more despondent. I couldn’t help feeling that after all those children’s tea parties and days out, teddy might be in need of a stiff drink too!

Teddy has been included in all of Bear’s games, he’s been to the school summer fayre, had stories read to him, been cuddled and loved. This evening teddy finally settled down for his last night with us. Bear was distraught. I have spent most of the evening trying to console him and take away some of the fear. ‘I won’t ever see him again.’,’What will happen to teddy at the end of the school year?’ ‘If he goes up with the class next year and every year after that, what will happen to him when the children all move on to different schools?’ Every time I thought he was settled he would start to cry again. When he said, ‘I don’t see how I can ever be happy again,’ I lifted him out of his bed and into mine. There’s no place on the planet that soothes heartache as well as mummy’s bed. Tomorrow we have to return teddy to school. We may even have tears. But I know for certain that he will be happy again. As Mr. Invisible says, he’s never far from a giggle.