Tag Archives: Bear

Five Minutes Peace

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The Large Family are firm favourites in our house. The cheeky young elephants appeal to Bear, while Mr. Invisible and I can relate to Mr. and Mrs. Large as alcohol-free versions of ourselves. Five Minutes Peace particularly resonates. Mrs. Large takes steps to secure this evasive pleasure, as desirable as chocolate and as rare as Kryptonite. It may take days in the planning and still something could come up at the last second to destroy it. Mrs. Large manages three minutes and forty five seconds for herself, but she still has to clear up the mess. There’s always a price to pay!

My morning has been a struggle. Bear was ready in his school uniform promptly, waiting by the front door. Homework, tick. School bag, tick. PE kit, tick. Lunch, tick. But we had to run more or less all the way for him to just about get in last before the door closed, before I got around the corner and wept down the phone to Mr. Invisible. The reason. Grandad. It’s not his fault. It’s not mine either. I just don’t want anymore mornings like this.

So when I unexpectedly found myself between places with five minutes to spare, I jumped at it. Toasted cheesy crumpet and proper coffee with hot milk. On my own. Completely. Priceless.

Homework

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Bear got his homework book from school this week. He felt very grown-up about it. I can’t believe my baby is old enough to get homework. Actually I’d rather he didn’t. I don’t believe homework in primary school helps final learning outcomes. I think it has the potential to put children off forever, as well as destroy their relationship with parents and carers. (Watch this space!) I’d really like him to be a child for longer than this. But hey, what do I know! I’m not a teacher or a child psychologist.  I could be described as an anthropologist, as I do observe one from close quarters. But I’m not exactly impartial and one child doesn’t make a scientific sample. Anyway, whatever my uneducated opinion (but not humble – I make no apology, I just don’t do humble opinions), he gets homework now.

I always think September is a better time for resolutions than New Year and a better time for new beginnings than Spring. Maybe it’s because September is inextricably linked with the beginning of the school year and empty notebooks with no mistakes in them yet.

Anyway, my resolution is to encourage Bear to finish his homework each Friday evening so we don’t have to think about it at the weekend. It worked this week. But I’m not holding my breath! And I’m not going to let it rule or ruin us. So there!

September

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Hurrah for September! May, June and July, you let us down miserably. August held out for the Games, but September is where it’s happening.

We didn’t manage a camping holiday this year. Not even a weekend. Bear was sorely disappointed and if Dogford could talk, he would be giving us a hard time too. So how about setting up a campsite in the back garden? Of course they’re not allowed actually to sleep out there (too dangerous!) and they’re not allowed to set fire to the campfire (although it wouldn’t be a proper campsite without one), but for one day only Bear and his toys and Dogford have camped. Thank you September. We couldn’t have done it without you!

Reflections

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My Dad was 40 when I was born. I was almost 40 when Bear was born. I sometimes wonder if I am seeing them both through a weird mirror. Is Bear anything like my Dad was at age five? Old photographs give the nod, but they are unreliable witnesses. Even if Grandma were alive to tell me, the passage of eighty years might distort her vision. Will Bear be anything like my Dad when he is 85? They have some personality traits in common. I probably have them too. This is where it gets complicated. I am the mirror, but I am also a link in the chain. This is my story too. But our stories are not the same. I don’t look at Bear and see myself at his age. We share some of the same passions: teddy bears, books, building things, but he is not me. He has his own thoughts, his own dreams and desires, his own fears, his own soul. His life will be a mixture of the things he chooses and the things he chooses to do about the things he can’t choose. (I’ve just got back from the Donald Rumsfeld school of plain English!)

Dad has incurable cancer. It was diagnosed four years ago. Three and a half of those four years were ‘healthy’. The last half has been a challenge. But in the scheme of things it’s not that bad. He isn’t in constant pain. We can still talk about stuff and have a bit of a laugh (as long as it’s timed correctly around medication and exertion!) So what does ‘dying’ mean and is he doing it? Scientists can explain ‘dead’ and ‘alive’ pretty well, but ‘living’ and ‘dying’ is the stuff of philosophers, poets and those on first name terms with Mortality.

Maybe it’s about now. Maybe ‘living’ is about being in the moment. Not just being there, but inhabiting that moment and making it our own. Forever. Once we’ve been in a moment, it’s too late for anyone to take us out of it. Once it’s passed us by, there’s no way of getting back into it.

So as long as his medication has kicked in and he isn’t between places, Dad chooses ‘living.’ Long may it continue.

Paralympic Tarts

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After Olympic-fever comes Olympic-fatigue and then more Olympic-fever. I don’t know whether it was Team GB starting to win things, Bear being so excited by the whole thing or actually going to the Olympic Park and Stadium, but as the Olympics wore on I became totally involved. It stopped being about ticketing fiascos, cynical sponsors and ‘security’ and started being about the people it should have been about all the way through. The people who have given their lives for at least the past few years to achieving Olympic success. Then strange things were happening in our household. I was listening to 5-Live instead my usual Radio 4. I was the one switching on the telly to catch up with the day’s events and I was totally up-to-date with the medal table. (I didn’t manage to find out anything about Handball, but Rome wasn’t built in a day!)

So the Olympics was basically a load of athletes doing things that I can do, just fitter stronger and faster. I can run, ride a bike, swim and throw things! They just did it a whole lot better than I could. But the Paralympics is a totally different ball game. I need my own legs to run. I would drown with a missing limb. The idea of playing football without being able to see the ball is frankly terrifying. I will be watching athletes performing feats that are above and beyond my everyday ideas for what is possible. I can’t wait to have my mind stretched. Mr. Invisible, Bear and I have tickets for 5-a-side football and swimming. The Olympics was just to get the party started. This is the real event. We are going to be total Paralympic tarts!

Olympic-Fatigue

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After Olympic-Fever comes Olympic-Fatigue. Yep! I’ve officially had enough of the Olympics. I thought we might watch a highlights programme at the end of each day and perhaps listen to a few events on the radio. But no,  that’s not enough for my lot. All day every day, our telly has been tuned in to one or other of the BBC’s twenty four (yes twenty four!) Olympic channels. I’m a ‘telly for half an hour before bed and definitely not during the day’ sort of person so my stress levels are on the ceiling.

Time for some recovery. Dad wanted a bit of a lie in this morning so I made myself a gorgeous fresh coffee and whipped up some hot milk. I even made a cheerful heart pattern on top. Of course it went cold before I had the chance to drink it. Dad insisted on coming straight downstairs after his shower and then gave us a really hard time because it was too much effort for him. Then there was pandemonium while Bear and Mr. Invisible got themselves ready to go out. They are trekking across to Surrey to watch the Cycling Time Trials. Right now the house is peaceful. Dad is snoozing on the sofa. Dogford is at my feet and Catford is mincing about, but in an undemanding manner. I might even make myself another coffee and actually drink it this time.

Maybe by the time Bear and Mr. Invisible get back, I’ll be sufficiently recovered to do it all over again.

Oops! Actually that was yesterday and I was so exhausted when they got in, I forgot to post!!

Smaller World

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It’s almost a week since my last post. And what a week! We had a holiday club for children (I was a volunteer), the Olympic Opening Ceremony (I was transfixed) and a Family Fun Day today (I was doing too many things!) It’s a struggle to do all this stuff with Dad. He was at Auntie’s until Thursday evening, and I was already done in! I should be getting up-to-date on my own jobs and re-charging my batteries a bit when he’s at Auntie’s. But this time last year he was walking to places and playing cricket with the kids, so I can hardly blame myself for having said yes to stuff. Without Mr. Invisible I couldn’t have done it. He helped Dad with the morning routine yesterday while I was at holiday club and again this morning when I was setting up the Fun Day. I think my world needs to shrink a bit.

Dad and Bear and I watched the opening ceremony of the Olympics last night. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and we have been waiting years for it. Just as the seven young athletes were in position to light the copper petals, which would combine to form the Olympic cauldron, Dad decided he needed the loo. Between the walking frame and the stairlift, I managed to get the gist of what was happening. And in the modern age, there are plenty of opportunities to see it again. So remind me, why did I stay up for it? That it’s all happening just along the road might have something to do with it. I’ve never taken any notice of the Olympics before, but now I’ve got Olympic-coloured nails and am well on the way to getting the total fever! Actually I love it. I love the hype, the atmosphere, I love that Bear is so engaged with it. I love that I can’t go anywhere without seeing an Olympic cycling team in training or an Olympic volunteer on the way home from a shift.

Anyway, Bear is in my bed now. He woke up an hour ago wet with perspiration, hiding under the covers from the monsters. Where these monsters have come from I don’t know, but they are real to him. Mummy’s bed with the lamp on is the best place. Monsters wouldn’t dare go into Mummy’s room and they are definitely scared of the light. I hope he’s still there when I go to bed. I’m happy for my world to get smaller if I get to look after Dad, give Mr. Invisible a break and enjoy Bear.

Any old teddy bear I want ….

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Rupert Pink arrived at his new home today. It’s the first time he’s been outside my parents’ house for over forty years. How did my special teddy manage to end up in a black bag in the attic? Maybe I’m biased, but he has always been my gold standard for a teddy bear. He has a proper stiff face, teddy eyes and the right amount of stitching under his shiny black nose. He has moving arms and legs and leather pads for his hands and feet. He isn’t properly pink anymore, but that just adds to his charm.

I can only suppose that he was briefly supplanted in my affections by newer, sleeker, shinier bears. Then he disappeared. I’m sorry Rupert Pink. I hope you’ll forgive me. If you can’t, I know you’ll give Bear a chance to make it right.

It must be a shock to be overwhelmed by an enthusiastic 5-year-old after twenty-odd years in the attic. Poor Roop probably needs a drink! And finally I’ve got just the old teddy bear I want.

Belonging

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I enjoyed my weekend in Ireland. It’s just that I’m pleased to be back. Bear and Mr. Invisible had a fabulous time. I could tell by the state of the house and the lack of clean laundry! I missed them, but I’m glad we did it. I needed to go away to feel grounded again. In the busyness of life it’s easy to lose track of the things that matter. It’s taken me a couple of days and I still haven’t caught up with my jobs, but I’m properly home now.

Mr. Invisible met me at the airport on Sunday night. That’s the start of homecoming. (I love being met from airports.) Next thing ticked off was the red bus. Even when I was at university, my muscles started to relax when I saw my first red bus on homecoming. It’s a bit like the first sip of wine on a summer evening. Indoors, I made Dogford wait while I looked at Bear sleeping soundly in the ‘pea on a fork’ position. He looked huge. He can’t have grown 15 cm in a weekend, so I guess I imagine him as a smaller bear than he really is. Then I let Dogford welcome me properly. Even Lady Catford condescended to be stroked (on her own terms of course!)

Bear’s face lit up when he came into my room on Monday morning. Make no mistake. He had a fantastic weekend, he was bubbling about it and wanted to tell me everything! We were only just on time for school. Walking home through the park after dropping him, I felt the most amazing sense of peace. I felt it again on the the flats this morning. It didn’t rain today (newsworthy!), but there is so much water. The flats are incredibly marshy. Dogford was splashing and generally being a dog. There were the most gorgeous water lillies in the lake. Gentle. There are many beautiful places in the world and lovely people everywhere, but nothing that comes close to home. I’m more certain than ever that it’s my life I’m living, the one I’m supposed to have.

Painted Lady

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It was open-evening at Bear’s school today. He enjoyed showing me the newly transformed painted lady butterflies in their net tube. He has been so excited about them over the past few weeks, right from anticipating the arrival of the eggs. Sadly, by the time they arrived the eggs had hatched into caterpillars. This didn’t dampen Bear’s enthusiasm and with his little hand in mine each day on the way home from school, he has shared his excitement and his newly acquired knowledge.

When he was little he liked wearing fairy wings at our local playgroups. I thought the pinks and lilacs were a bit sickly, so I found him some painted lady butterfly wings to wear. Three years on and he still loves flitting about in them, but we have had little success looking for real ones in the garden. I’m so grateful to his teacher for giving him this amazing experience. As much as he has enjoyed seeing the development from caterpillar through pupa to butterfly, he is looking forward even more to setting them free in the sensory garden, where they will take their chance with the other creatures.

I am doing something similar with Bear. I remember the first suspicious changes in my body and the test that confirmed he was growing inside me. Then he developed as a foetus, a baby, a toddler, and so it goes on. At some point, he will take his chance with the other creatures. All I can do is support him and equip him as best as I can. One day, he will stretch his own wings and taste the nectar for himself.