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.

A step outside time

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What an exciting day! Bear’s friend, Precious arrived at our house at 8.30 this morning and is now sound asleep in Bear’s room snuggling her cow-girl doll. Her parents are at the hospital for the birth of their brand new baby. We have done ‘normal’ things all day: had breakfast, done lots of crafting, been to the school summer fayre, played camping in the garden, had dinner, played in the bath, read bedtime stories….. How can such ordinary activities go on when something so miraculous and amazing is happening? Doesn’t time stand still for a new baby?

On these occasions, I am inevitably taken back to Bear’s birth. Each time, the memory is softened so that the traumatic bits have been peeled away a layer at a time. Maybe because I’ve told Bear about it so many times, I’m starting to believe the sanitised version myself. I guess life must have been going on outside, but I had no concept of it. I was doing something far more important. When life-changing events take place, time marches on as relentlessly as ever. You just step outside of it for a while. Anyway little treasure, I’m looking forward to meeting you for the first time and to watching you grow into yourself. Thanks for letting us be part of it!

The Icing on my Cake

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The iced biscuits are ready for the school summer fayre tomorrow and so is Bear. Mr. Invisible thinks that iced biscuits aren’t commercially viable and I’m sure he’s right. It takes ages (even though they end up looking very homemade) and they’ll sell for a song. If it was about the money, I’d donate the cost of the ingredients. But it’s so much more than that. The whole school is really buzzzzzing about the summer fayre. Today was a non-uniform day so each child could bring something for the tombola (mostly booze – it’s my kinda school!) and Bear is asking for a ‘Summer Fayre Helper’ sticker so he can help out at our stall. He’ll change his mind when he sees the side shows and the bouncy castle. I’m excited too now and if I happen to see a small fist or two clutching brightly-coloured vaguely flowery biscuits, it’ll be the icing on my cake!

Bird Necklace

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This week I will be mostly wearing …. a bird necklace.

Spending time on what to wear may come across as a bit shallow, but is it really? The image we portray makes a difference to other people’s perceptions and how we are treated. We could argue that it shouldn’t and we might have a point, but the truth is that people make up their minds very quickly (seconds rather than minutes.) The older I get, the less that bothers me but I still want to feel good about myself – for me. When Bear was a baby, my jewellery stayed in the cupboard, well away from those grippy, curious fingers.

So back to the necklace. I spent some time with my nieces earlier. One is just starting and the other just finishing university. We talk about anything, but what we’re wearing always gets a mention. The youngest liked my necklace. She said it ‘tied-up’ my outfit (a black skirt, brown top and flats.) A couple of years ago I went to the exhibition of Grace Kelly’s dresses at the V&A. I was struck by how plain they looked on the mannequins compared to the photos of them as worn by the lady herself. As well as her elegant frame, she used sunglasses, hair pieces, scarves and jewellery to accent her look. I’m often guilty of being in too much of a rush to accessorise, but when it works it can lift my whole day.

In my twenties I thought costume jewellery was for teenagers and that ladies (such as I was!!!) wore ‘real’ jewellery. I’m so glad I came to my senses.

Weightier topics tomorrow – maybe.

Show and Tell

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Bear came out of school this afternoon clutching the dreaded piece of paper. The one that says, ‘Your child has been chosen for Show and Tell this Friday.’ Whoopee! Not only does he have to choose something to talk about, we also have to remember to take whatever it is.

But then I remembered. Problem solved. It’s easy peasy this time because he recently received a letter from her Majesty the Queen. So I suggested it. ‘No mummy. I can’t take that because I have to talk about it.’ Ok, shouldn’t be too much of a problem. If I’d received a letter from the Queen, you wouldn’t be able to shut me up. ‘No mummy. The other children have to be able to ask questions.’

I could think of loads of questions to ask someone who’d received a letter from the Queen. Why did she write to you? Were you excited when you received it? What were you wearing? (Not particularly relevant but I always want to know.) Anyway, it turns out the other children can’t ask questions about a letter from the Queen.

‘So what sort of questions do they ask then?’ I said. ‘Things like, does it have a button to make it talk?’ So basically we’re limited to plastic or fur that may or may not talk. My question would more likely be, ‘Does it have a button to make it stop? No? We’re not getting one then.’

Anyway, it’s not my show and tell, so I’ll just stay out of it.

Puppy Love

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There’s nothing like the aroma of fresh puppy. Life, longing and wholeness all in one sniff. While I can’t say I’d like it as a perfume, neither can I get enough of it! This morning Dogford and I visited a friend’s nine-week-old chihuahua. The puppy wasn’t too impressed when my pooch wagged into his life and started stealing his toys. I guess it didn’t help that he was smaller Dogford’s head.

We let them settle, keeping the youngster on the floor. He might be small, but he’s a whole dog. Although I was desperate for a sniff and a cuddle, I sipped my coffee and bided my time. Before long the puppy was sniffing Dogford’s foot (about all he could reach!) and turning around to allow himself to be sniffed too.

When Dogford was that young, it was exhausting but so much fun. I can only compare it to bringing a toddler home instead of a baby. Mr. Invisible and I used to play ‘puppy tennis’, where you each sit on the floor in a different room and take turns to call the puppy by name. I cried the first time he obeyed the ‘down’ command without help, he wanted to please us so much. His favourite game is still ‘find the cow.’ The toy has changed over the years, but he still loves to seek it out. He even played patiently when Bear was a toddler and hid it in the same place every time!

Dogford hasn’t read the book that says his puppy days are over. He still turns on the bounciness when he meets a young dog and he still loves a cuddle. He’s calmer now though. He steals food less often and he doesn’t steal underpants or socks anymore. I still love the smell of him. He’s every bit the puppy that came home in my arms eight and a half years ago.

If my friend gets even half as much joy from her dog, she’s going to be very happy!

Living for Today

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This morning, I was privileged to be invited to visit Richard House Children’s Hospice in Newham. What an amazing place! What amazing people! Richard House provides care for children with life-limiting conditions and complex healthcare needs, as well as support for the whole family. The emphasis is on positive experiences and creating memories.

The purpose-built centre is light, bright and airy with beautiful gardens and outdoor planting and play areas. Apart from a few clues it looks like any other children’s playcentre, with children’s artwork on the walls, children’s sensory toys and a well-stocked playroom and sensory suite. There’s also a teenage den to give the older ones some separate space. The residential-care rooms look just like a bedroom at home (ok, a lot tidier than the bedrooms in my house but you get the idea!)

It feels wrong that parents have to experience the death of a child. It feels wrong that the innocence of siblings is shattered at such an early age in such a cruel manner. But death doesn’t discriminate against age, religion, ethnicity or gender. In the meantime, there is the best care a child can get and the precious memories that the people at Richard House work so hard to help them create. Guys, you’re incredible!

Precious Time

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A Radio 5 show made me fume this morning. After Cherie Blair’s comments last week on stay-at-home mums, they’d dutifully tracked down the public in the form of a  21-year-old woman who didn’t see that staying at home doing nothing all day could make someone a good role model. Well thanks for that, sis! Actually I don’t object to the comment. Why would she know any better? But I was disappointed that the presenter didn’t pull her up on it. The media will drag this subject forwards and backwards through the bushes until the cow’s come home, and there still won’t be a right answer because everyone’s different and everyone’s circumstances are different.

Cherie’s underlying point is worth another look though. Basically you can’t rely on your man in case he leaves, gets sick or dies. (I’m grossly para-phrasing here.) I like the idea of women being able to be independent, but I’m not sure that having a suitcase full of clean underwear and fifty pound notes is the answer. Family isn’t what it was in the 1950s. Being a stay-at-home mum isn’t what is was either. It’s about sharing responsibility and recognising that the playing field changes so what you do now doesn’t have to be right forever, it just has to be right for now. Anyway Cherie, we’re pretty privileged to be having this conversation. For most women in the world, there isn’t a choice.

I’ve been re-evaluating my situation now that my son is at school. He’s only out of the house for a few hours though, so not much has changed. It’s important to me that I’m there to collect my son from school and I’m there in the school holidays. Ok, something might happen to force me to change my tack, but I’m not going to deprive myself and my son of this precious time that we can never get back, just in case of something that might never happen.