Musing on a Monday {I hear the ticking of a clock}

I sit in a quiet house and despite its physical absence I hear the ticking of a clock.
I walk past a frosty field seeing the shift of time from Autumn to Winter.

I stand in my girl's room and remember a heavily pregnant me sitting, pausing and wondering how much my life was about to change .
I watch my boy sleeping in the exact same position he did as a baby and am transported back to cots and babygros.
I spot my girl cosy in the armchair; headphones plugged in, laptop on and recall her sat on my lap; nursery rhymes playing and picture books being read.
I watch them both leave me at the school gate and remember how they used to need me to walk them in to their classrooms.
I listen as my girl confidently explains subordinate clauses and remember her Jolly Phonics home learning drawing pictures beginning with 's'.
I listen to my boy's teachers tell me how he confidently speaks to the whole of the class and recall a boy who would clam up every time it was his turn for show and tell.

I see my girl brushing her own hair and tying it up ready for school not needing any of my assistance.
I inwardly cry as my boy shakes my arm off as we walk off the rugby pitches.
I see them growing up day by day and ache for time to stand still.

I catch a glance in the mirror and notice the tell tale signs that I am into my fortieth year on this planet.
I panic that time is passing by way too quickly.
I struggle with the 6a.m. work alarms knowing that my priorities shift from family to work.
I catch my breath at the thought of having to apply for secondary school places next year.
I inwardly cringe at the times I used to moan at being a SAHM but would now return to that life in an instant.

I want to take the batteries out of the ticking clock.

x x x 

Broody at 38

Bloggers: Do you ever go back go over old blog posts and smile to yourself at the words you wrote and the feelings you expressed?
I did the same very recently.
I stumbled across my post, Cluck, written back in February 2012.
In it I wrote about being broody and there was a list of Ifs.. regarding a third baby.
Reading them now makes me smile.
Some of them make me laugh. Very loudly.
Let's take a look...

Then
If I had another baby I'm back 4 years on the whole work front so financially we struggle again.
Now
Ha! Starting up a new business - the husband - has strained the bank balance quite a bit and throw in the increased costs of living and...you get the point. Lots of us are struggling. On paper can many of us actually 'afford' more children?

Then

If I had another baby it would be squished in with it's big brother or sister in their rooms - the girl likes her independence and the boy's room is the size of a box.

Now

So what??! I shared a room with my sister and my brother at various times in my childhood. Heck, I was the youngest of five children living in a three bed bungalow! You just get on with it kids!

 

Then

If I had another baby I would probably get even fatter and fall into a bigger cycle of self loathing.

Now

Wow! I know I'm not the most positive person out there but 'self loathing'?? I've also proven to myself a bit of exercise and fewer cakes makes a great difference to whether I stay 'fatter' or not.

 

Then

If I had another baby I would have to juggle feeding, nappies and naps with the school run - heck, I would have to go out at 8.30 and 3.00 regardless of whether my boobies were leaking or not.

Now

I'm quite surprised at this one as I like to feel I am the master of organising. However, the kiddos were two years younger then and it did take an age to get out of the door. Now they are more independent and my juggling skills are much improved. And as for leaking boobs? Who cares? Anyone?!

 

 

We move on nearly two years to the present day and the broodiness has crept back. Massively.

Ironically we, as a couple, feel more emotionally ready for a baby than we did 8 and 6 years ago yet financially things have flipped.

I look on Instagram and my feed seems to be full of babies with mums in a similar position and age to me. Yes, I know IG, and social media in general, can gloss over the crap bits - whack on a good filter and we all look like we're having a ball. But still, every little face that pops out when I scroll down makes me take another gulp.

 

But am I being selfish?

There would be a big age gap between my two kiddos and any future baby. My two make a great team, will a third child ever get a look in with them?

I know couples who have struggled to conceive one, let alone two, children. Should I accept that I have been extremely fortunate to have two healthy children and just let things be?

 

Then

I should be thankful I have those two. They are my world and I think it's pretty fulfilled with just the two of them.

Now

Fulfilled - my word for 2015.

I posted recently;

I want to find fulfilment in 2015.
Fulfilment in my family.

 

x x x

Childfree time {Me & him}

Being a parent is hard.
It can be stifling.
All consuming.
Tiring.
Monotonous.
Relentless.
Yes, this sounds negative but it is true.

Parenting is hard when you don't get a break.
Not just a break from the children to go to work but a BREAK...with the other important people in your life.
The other half.
The other half of you that can get forgotten.
The other half of you that you love, and loves you - warts and all.
The other half of you that made you a parent.

Time away from the children is needed.
Time with just the other half of you is needed.
Childfree time is needed.

Eventually we got some.
Over 24 hours of time to be me and him, not mummy and daddy.

We walked and we talked - just like back in the day.
We watched the barges meander by, took in the surroundings and spotted my dream home across the water.

We went to a pub for ale and cashews - just like back in the day.
We didn't have to clock watch - just like back in the day.
We wandered around the supermarket picking out comfort food in the form of pies and fancy mashed veg - just like back in the day.

And then the kiddos came home.
I had missed them but felt good, not guilty.
I love them unconditionally.
I love him unconditionally.
We just need some childfree time to appreciate that.

x x x

Forest School

I recently had the best training day, quite possibly ever, at work.
It involved, among other things, fire starting, knives, clay, getting personal with trees and cooking on an open fire.
My mind was alert all day.
I couldn't wait to get back outside from the tea breaks.
It was how I would love every day at work to be.
That is my dream.

Here are just some of the activities...

Go on a hunt for colours and textures using coloured Fimo tags and texture word cards.

Get working as a team to make a piece of collaborative natural art. 



Sit beneath the trees with an old CD. Watch the reflections of the canopy and sit in quietness, listening to the sounds around you.

Get close to a tree; hug it, look up at it, listen to it.

Write down every word that springs to mind.

Get poetic.

Grab a lump of clay and whatever nature provides. Make your own forest creature. Make it a den.

Whittle a hazel stick for damper bread - best cooked slowly away from the flames.

Best enjoyed with butter and jam.

I'm looking forward to repeating some of this with the little people.

x x x



The Courts {National Trust}

Half term weeks never pass by without a visit to a National Trust property.
I've been a member pretty much since childhood and have a lot of memories of walking miles around the National Trust parks and properties back home in Norfolk.
Now I'm doing the same with my two children albeit in a different county or two.
Just like back home Wiltshire, and the surrounding counties, have plenty of National Trust properties to keep us busy.

On Monday we whiled away a couple of hours at The Courts...

The Simple Things

I often think I try too hard as a parent.
Always needing to please.
Always thinking about how I can go that extra mile to make an amazing day.
Trying to make the best moments to establish those childhood memories.
But sometimes it's just the simple things that they love.
A scoot round the block and an hour at the little park down the lane.

 

Walking through the leaves, making our own trees, perfecting our fine motor skills by threading leaves with care and hoping that the big green space doesn't get covered by hundreds of houses jam packed in as tightly as can be.
Not a penny was spent but they loved it.
Quality time with me.

What are your simple things?

xxx

This is the boy who can draw {Fine motor skills}

 

It's taken a while.
The mum in me initially panicked over his lack of pencil control, and fine and gross motor skills in general.
The teacher in me knew that children developed at different rates and to just chill out.
He would pick up a pencil at some point.
He would write his name at some point.
He would start to enjoy drawing at some point.
The latter has taken ages.
He spent most of his Reception year in school avoiding the writing table, avoiding the art area, avoiding anything creative.
Now he can't get enough of paper and pencil.

It was all down to time - children don't progress at the same rate.
The irony of how I view this now is not lost on me; now it is with my teacher head on that I stress over targets and watch the four year olds at school who are simply not ready to pick up a pencil but I feel pressurised to tick off a box - Thanks Mr. Gove for that.
However, the mum in me tells me to chill out and not worry.
Easier said than done.

Musing on a Monday {time goes by}

Last night I had a bit of an emotional turn.
I sat watching Homeland and suddenly panicked.
You see, Homeland is kind of plodding along at the moment. No Brody - yet - and too much Dana.
Dana, oh Dana, you hormonal, mixed up little thing you. 16 years old and rolling around in the laundry room having rumpy pumpy with your equally mixed up beau. 16. SIXTEEN!?!
My little girl is nearly half way to that age. In just over eight years time, or maybe earlier, I'm going to lose her to hormones, emotions, boys - or possibly girls, I'm cool with that. But she'll be 'gone'. She won't need me anymore - well she'll probably need my money and stuff.
More to the point she won't WANT me anymore will she? She'll be all moody and I'll be too embarrassing or something.
Basically I'm panicking.
I'm looking back too much and thinking we should have done more each day, each weekend, each holiday.
Yesterday we had a house day due to the rain and a stinking cold on my part. We didn't do much. We should have done more. I should be making more of my time with them.
Time goes too quick.
I'm rambling. I apologise.
I'm tired, and to be honest maybe a bit hormonal myself today, so am probably blowing this up way out of proportion but I have moments where I just freak out.

How do we stop the panic?
How do we savour the moments?
How do we keep them young?
How can I bottle them and not let them go?

x x x

Link to original image source here

Summer Bucket List {#pinaddicts June}

 

 

Finally, we have had a whole week of good weather - A WHOLE WEEK! And as soon as that sun starts to shine for more than a day I like to make plans. Summer plans.

 

Today I asked the kiddies what they wanted to do this summer and instead of just talking about it we put our plans down on paper. So nobody would forget!

 

I pinned this image a while ago to my Pinterest For the kiddywinks board - and it has since been repinned to my #pinaddicts board.

 

Here's what we did.

A mad week

So this half term has been a wee bit stressful with a series of events giving me weepy eyes, an exploding head and a minor panic attack over letting people down.

I had the intention of covering a full time teaching post from Easter, a decision we didn't make lightly and could only commit to with the help of my in laws who were going to move locally from France to help out. Well, basically be our wraparound childcare so I could get to work before the children turned up - that's kind of important.

Unfortunately a not very pleasant illness has been diagnosed so the in laws, quite rightly, are staying put in France where they are already swiftly being dealt with by their local health service. We now sit and wait.

Meanwhile, the reality set in.

BOOM! Slight panic attack and tears.

"How the hell am I going to get to work and teach 5 days a week and get the children to breakfast club and pay the crappily high fees for after school club where they don't even get a hot meal and then get home to get them a meal and plan my work, and I always said I would never put the kiddies in round the clock childcare to go to work, and, and, and...."

Discussion with hubs ensued and the conclusion was met; I couldn't do it. Ok, fine, I couldn't do it.

This is the boy....

This is the boy who used to refuse to pick up a pencil.

This is the boy who couldn't decide which hand to go with.

This is the boy who wouldn't sit down for longer than 30 seconds to try and draw a picture.

 

This is the boy who has decided that actually it's okay to write!

x x x