Reasons to be Cheerful wk22

Thursday is #R2BC day, and much like Mich at Mummy from the Heart, I was struggling to come up with reasons. I have also been feeling like blogging has not been high on the list of priorities of late.



That is actually one of my reasons this week, the fact that, for the first time, I haven't been stressing about the consequences of not blogging very much the past week or so. I'm putting it down to the fantastic weather last week, just being out and about more and so i've not had the same opportunities or inclination to sit and blog. And rather than worry about stats and pageviews, etc, I've not. I've thought, so what? What will happen? Nothing. Nowt. Nada. Niet. Rien.

And I put that attitude partly down to trying to follow some of the 'teachings' (don't like that word, too formal, but can't think of a better one) of F**k It.

Describing itself as "the ultimate spiritual way, ... without the sandals", being a F**kiteer is about letting go of the little things and about the things over which we have no control. Check it out, don't be put off by the title (the more you see/say it, the less offensive it becomes, which is the idea). And no, this is not a sponsored post or anything, just my own opinion. I went to a F**k It Away Day in March, which I always meant to post about, and worried about not posting about. And then I thought "f**k it". Oh, it works!

Another R2BC for me this week is that I've just booked a wee holiday in July for B and I to go to York for a few days. Not only that, but we've got company this time, for both B and I, so lots of fun to be had for mummies and kids! It may not be a 2 week break on some sun-kissed island, but it'll do for us. Next stop, the Railway Museum! Just have to do some praying to the sun-gods to come back out.


For more R2BC, blog hop on over to Mich at Mummy from the Heart.

Silent Sunday - sluggish

Childhood memories

B's dad and I grew up in the same town, although we didn't know each other back then. It’s not too far away, only an hour or so from where we live now, and B's gran and papa (his dad's parents) and his other papa (my dad) and Auntie Angela both still live there. For one reason or another, I’ve not managed through more than a couple of times since Christmas (although B has been through more often with his dad), so I made a concerted effort to pay a visit this weekend past.

After the wet, cold and windy weather we’ve had the last few weeks, it was a welcome sight to see the sun peaking through and a trip to the local park was a-calling. The park is a few minutes’ walk away from where I grew up. I’ve been back to visit occasionally over the years, and it always evokes strong feelings of nostalgia and more innocent, uncomplicated times.

There have been some big changes to the park over the years. The play-park area is now transformed into a modern play-park with zip-wire, boat-shaped climbing frames, bendy/curvy slides, swings of all shapes, catering from the tiny tot up to the older kids. Back in my day, we loved the play-park. It was probably basic by today’s standards -  a few toddler and older swings, two roundabouts, a metal climbing ball-frame, and a double-chute. But we spent hours and hours there. It’s where I learned to swing by myself, where I worked out how high I could swing before the chains started shaking, realised how long I could last on the roundabout before I felt sick. And it’s where we would hang out as older kids, listening to our brand new ghetto-blaster (this was the 80s, afterall!).

The Animal Corner had changed, too. There used to be two peacocks who would strut and call out, louder than any of us could ever manage, no matter how hard we tried. Alongside them, there were a pair of sorry-looking foxes that used to pace back and forth in their enclosure, their pungent smell penetrating out beyond the little zoo. I can still recognise that smell nowadays, and it transports me immediately back to that park.  The foxes have long gone, thankfully, in their place interactive, indoor cages with insects, spiders, etc. But the peacocks are still there, their impressive cry ringing out, reminding me I'm home.

When I was B's age and older, the park's pond was the hub of activity both on and around it. The swans and ducks once fought for space with kids and adults in pedal-boats. Many hours were spent lying on the ground at the edge of the pond, dangling our brightly coloured fishing nets in, hunting for tadpoles. Now, the pedalos are long-gone, sadly, given up because of cost or vandalism or some other reason. It doesn’t matter, really. The swans are still there, though, and I bet in the summertime there are little kids searching for tadpoles, jumping up excitedly when they find one.

Even nondescript areas of grass brought back a strong nostalgic feeling this weekend, reminding me of long hot summer days * playing football, penalty shoot-outs. We really did use jumpers for goalposts.

(*I wondering if my memories are playing rose-tinted tricks on me, after all we’re talking about summer in Scotland. I’m not sure if many days could have been described as “long, hot”... then again, when you’re a kid, the weather is no obstacle!)

And a small door underneath the golf clubhouse building within the park still made the hairs on my neck stand up, taking me back to dusky evenings when we should have been out of the park, peaking at this eery little door and wondering what witches or goblins lived inside. I showed B where the witches used to live. He wasn’t quite sure, but didn’t want to hang about to find out.

Linking up with The EO's Just Write

Silent Sunday

Morning routine

My bedroom. A place of peace and tranquility. Of calmness, serenity. A sanctuary, to use a cliche, to escape the higgledy-piggledy, toy-infested rooms that exist just beyond the door.

Well... maybe that's what it looks like before I go to bed, but in the morning, it's a different story...

 When B gets up in the morning, he comes through to my bedroom. If I'm lucky, he might actually snuggle in the bed, alongside various furry animals and his favourite pillow, for all of, 5 minutes, before the business of the morning begins. And that business is very busy, let me tell you. It usually involves lots of trains, lots of cars, and lots of cuddly toys. All laid out meticulously, in as many nooks, crannies and corners of my 'sanctuary' as is possible, including my bed where I am still half-asleep.

 I listen to him go about his busy business, setting up his furry cats who today are all on the train platform watching the trains go by into Waverley station. 

This morning we also had an off-road course for mega-trucks and a quadbike. Before I get out the bed, I am always part of these assault courses, and woe-betide me if I move and upset the course.

And of course, being so busy makes little people hungry, so there is the obligatory food stop, usually a banana followed by a bit of toast. And that's before breakfast.

Muggins here usually has to clear it all away at some point during the day, and I always find a random train carriage, or double-decker bus (or worse, rogue bit of banana!) several days/weeks later, tucked away in an unseen corner.

I wouldn't have my mornings any other way!



Head over to The Gallery for more Morning photos.

Sleep is for the weak

Why don't kids know when they really could do with an early night?! B has a cold and a cough, which woke him up about an hour too early this morning, up well before 6am and didn't go back to sleep. Man, it's seems like an age since i've done the 5.30am starts, I'm used to the clock at least reading 6 and not 5...

A Police Owl...

And then he had a really busy day in school today. The whole year had their much-anticipated, much-practised P1 assembly, which involved each class doing a little song and mini 'scenes' detailing some of the themes they've been learning this year, for all the parents to come and watch. B's big moment was as a policeman as part of 'night and day - jobs that are done in the day and in the night'. He'd been practising his big line for a few weeks now "I am a policeman and I work at night and in the day" and he carried off with much aplomb, if I do say so myself... (hey, I don't think I've ever used aplomb in a sentence, go me!) He then got to be an owl (nocturnal animals, dontcha know), but he still had his policeman's hat on so we had an owl policeman which was very amusing... I was a very proud mummy today.

On a Tuesday he also goes to afterschool club while I'm at work, usually until about 5pm. Even on a normal day, he's pretty beat at the end of the day. So I thought I'd pick him up a little early, so we could do tea, bath and bed a little early too. His sniffles and cough were still  evident when we got home so I was glad he'd be in bed a bit earlier. Fast forward to bedtime, in bed nice and early (but not too early, no point in that!), story and cuddles. I was feeling very pleased with myself. Fast forward until now and he is still not asleep, muttering and singing to himself and not sounding like he's ready for sleeping. And it's no earlier than normal, in fact maybe even a little later. 

Sheesh, doesn't he know he needs an early night?!

Linking up with Just Write at The EO.

Great Expectations

Five-year olds are very demanding, are they not?

On Saturday, B spent his usual friday night and saturday with his dad, during which time he had a jam-packed day at the local farm park going on tractor rides, train rides, big bouncy trampolines, oversized sandpits, picnic, etc, etc. He had a great time, and so when I picked him up at the train station at 4pm I knew he'd be ready for his tea and a rest. I know very little, obviously.

We hadn't even left the station when it began:
B: Mummy, what are we doing now?
Me: We're going home.
B: Noooo (in his best whiny voice), I don't want to go home.
Me: It'll be tea-time by the time we get home, so we're going home.
B: No, I want to do something else outside the house.
Me: But you've had a long day, and now it's tea-time.
B: Noooo (perfecting the whine), I want to do something else before we go home.
...and so on. Eventually I managed to distract him when our bus arrived.

So, we get a seat on the bus and he starts again:
B: Mummy, what are we doing tomorrow?
Me: I don't know yet. (thinking, he's been busy today, so we'll just take it easy tomorrow, a quiet day in the house)
B: I want to do something tomorrow. I want to go somewhere.
Me: We'll see. Depends on the weather.
B: But what are we going to do? I don't want to stay in the house, we can go somewhere else inside if it's raining ... etc etc

Oh, give me a break! Why is it when they have a really busy day, they're not satisfied with a quiet day. They want the busy day again and again.

This doesn't bode well for the summer holidays. 6 1/2 weeks of "what are we doing today? I want to do something today". Of course, this is an oh-so-familiar, age-old problem, I know. But come the 29th June, it'll be the first time we've had to deal with it. Before school, B was at private nursery so no lengthy summer holidays to contend with.

So I've started sowing the seeds now. Letting him know that we won't be having far-flung (expensive) days out every single day of the holidays. That some days will be 'lazy' days, but lazy days can be as fun as expensive days. Collecting ideas for where we can go, which will not send me even quicker to financial ruin. That's my homework for the next few weeks.

If only I thought it would stifle the expectations of a 5 year-old.

That's my boy!

It's all about the boy this week making me cheerful, or rather his very first school report and parents evening this week. 

The pupil report came end of last week, which we were not expecting, but was a very pleasant surprise. Not a report card, as it was back in my day, but a six page document, split into the different 'curricular areas' which now form the new 'Curriculum for Excellence' in Scotland. Each area is marked 'Developing' (beginning to make progress), 'Consolidating' (breadth of learning across many areas), or 'Secure' (achieve breadth of learning across all areas and more forward to more challenging learning).

Cheerful highlights include:

B achieved 'secure' in all almost all curricular areas.

His confidence to contribute in class has significantly increased over the year.

His grasp of certain ideas or learnings is such that he is one of a handful of pupils the teacher asks to help her explain things  to other pupils, to boost his confidence and to keep him challenged.

He got 100% attendance (up to the point of writing the report, anyway! still got a good chunk of term left!). We'll gloss over the few times we've been a few minutes late and had to go in the front door.

The teacher said she couldn't really find anything of great worry to report to us and that she found him an articulate, pleasant member of the class. 

Long may that continue! The fact that he "understands and respects the rules and boundaries in school", but not always at home... meh, we're working on that one! 

Now obviously, being P1, it's just the start of a very long educational journey, but it's fantastic to hear how well he is doing, not just in the learning itself but in his social and emotional development too.

And he's very happy with his special purchase for a job well done.

. 

Roll on next year!

What's making you cheerful this week?

Toilet Talk

"Mummy, when did you and Daddy break up and live in different houses?"

Not the question I was expecting as B was sitting on the toilet. Let's be honest, not the question I was expecting at all, toilet or no toilet. 

I've been apart from his dad for over two years now. At the time, we were very careful to spell out (as clearly as you can to a 3 year old) what was happening, that mummy and daddy decided not to live together any more, but that we both love him more than anything in the whole wide world and it's not because of him that daddy wouldn't be living with us any more. I reminded him of that often in the first year, I searched for story books that might help explain the situation to him (not an easy search, I can tell you, but those I did find made me cry most of the time), I been there to give him extra hugs when he said goodbye to daddy each wednesday and each saturday. 

It's gotten a little easier in the months since, but a little is probably the best it has been. B still gets a bit teary saying goodbye to daddy (not to mention my own tears at saying goodbye to B every weekend, but that's for a different post).

It had already occurred to me recently that I haven't spoken with B about the split for a while. It's easy to forget, in the daily grind, that maybe he isn't sure what happened, or why not everyone's daddy lives in a different house. But I realised I couldn't go further with any explanation until he was old enough to understand relationships, even in their most basic form. And at the moment, he is still too young to get it. He knows mummy and daddy got married, and that we all used to live together, but he doesn't really understand what 'getting married' means, apart from the photos he's seen with mummy in a pretty dress and daddy in a kilt.

So it was a bit of a surprise to hear him use the phrase 'break up'. Maybe he is understanding a bit more now, he's obviously picked things up from the playground. But when I probed a bit more, "have you been thinking about why mummy and daddy aren't living together?", "what made you think about mummy and daddy breaking up?", I realised he really doesn't get it. And he has kind of forgotten why we weren't living together. This made me feel really guilty for not keeping up with the reminders and the books. I certainly have kept up the hugs. Scrap that, that makes it sound like hugs are a chore, hugs from B are the best thing ever!

So the next time he's on the loo, I know what we can talk about.

Linking up with Just Write over at The EO

Tale of the unexpected

So I was minding my own business this morning, putting my make-up on, drying my hair, usual hum-drum. Then I spotted something... something in my eyebrow... something that shouldn't be there.  

No, no, I dismissed, no, I'm imagining it. But I had to be sure, so I looked a little more closely. 

"Yee gads!", I gasped in horror.* "It IS true. A..a...a...grey. hair." 

Dun dun duuuuuuuuuun.

(*OK, I didn't actually say 'Yee gads', but you get the jist)

I plucked it, and checked again in the light. Yep, there it is, in the cold light of day. A grey hair. An unexpected wave of, well, panic, swept over me. Grey hair!!! No way, I'm several years off 40, I will NOT have grey hair!

Then another thought crossed my mind. If there's a grey hair in my eyebrow, maybe there's more in my head. I've been dye-ing my hair for many years so it wouldn't be the first thing I'd notice. But it didn't take me very long to find what looked suspiciously like grey hair. I pulled it out. That sinking feeling. I'm too young for grey hair, surely! 

So I googled 'going grey' (what did we do before the ability to google everything?!) and apparently, the average age for women to go grey is only 34. 34! That is so young, I thought it would be at least another 10 years on this. But 34?! Having said that, my dad went grey in his 20s, and isn't there a genetic link to going grey? Or is that baldness?? Well, if nothing else, at least I've had a few more years more than the average, I guess.

Going grey is not something I have ever thought about, didn't think it was something that really bothered me. There's a lot more to be bothered about, afterall. So I was surprised at my panicky reaction. I'm hoping it was just the initial shock...and given the fact that I have no intention of giving up the hair highlights, I can do something about it. 

That reminds me, must make an appointment with the hair salon.