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 

Just me and my boy

I love being a mother of two but sometimes it's just lovely to have one of them to myself.
Last weekend the girl was invited to a sleepover at a friend's house.
I'm loving her growth in confidence and the fact that she is developing new friendships at school.
I'm also freaked out by the speed at which they are both growing.
Rare time alone with the boy always makes me think back to the days when E had just started school and A was just 2.
I was a SAHM - life was so much easier then.

 

My boy led the way through the gate into the field at the end of the lane. We stopped to look around at the wide open space; space for children to run, space for dogs to be walked, space to walk through the leaves, space to throw them up and let the wind catch them on the breeze.
I'm so sad that this space, and much more here, is threatened by more than 500 houses.
We carried on through fields of animals, picking up sticks and pretending to be Harry Potter making magic.
We looked up at the pylons, always an imposing sight and always rather worrying when the passing clouds makes them look as if they are about to tumble.
We walked around the fields chatting about the train line and a passing diverted train with endless carriages.
We walked around the fields hand in hand appreciating what we have on our doorstep.
We walked around the fields enjoying being mummy and son.

Time with my boy took me back.
Time with my boy is so precious.

How long will it be until he doesn't want to hold my hand?

Linking up to Country Kids...

x x x

The Voice Within

Ah, a meme. A meme designed to get into our heads and expose our daily mutterings. The Voice Within asks us to reveal ten things that we say to ourselves / out loud during the day. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron kindly tagged me in this one so after a bit of thinking about it here is what I splurt on a daily basis.

Oh For Goodness/Gods/F@#k Sake - delete according to mood and who is in earshot. This is probably my top muttering and I have just said it one minute ago whilst trying to highlight some text on here. FYI I said the last choice. *gasp*

Where the hell is it? Book bag, drink bottle, potato peeler...whatever I need at that very moment and it isn't there.

Hang on a minute Usually to the children when they need me to do something. Sometimes, for variety, it is "Hang on a sec"!

Come on Most of time directed to Alban who is one of life's dawdlers. He always needs a minutes head start on everyone else. I forget to give him a minutes head start so am repeatedly getting at the poor chap with that one.

Mummy just needs to finish this 'work' Yes, that's right, mummy 'works' on her computer at home sometimes. (I think we all know what I mean by work don't we?! Shhhh, don't tell my children what I'm really up to.)

Find it yourself Mummy where's my coat? Where's my rabbit? Where's my Octonaut toy? Where are my marbles? Ha!

If you want something done do it yourself One for the husband! Usually after asking for the umpteenth time for a household job to be done. You know what I'm on about.

How many times have I said....? Moan, moan, moan.

Am I the only person who knows how to wash up around here? It seems I am. No one else seems to understand how the taps, washing up sponge and Fairy Liquid combo work. Clearly there is a magic fairy who swishes the dirty plates back into the cupboard.

The laundry bag is right there Yes, right there. Look. Next to your pile of clothes you have just removed from yourself.

Jeez, I have just realised that I am a seriously grumpy cow. I need to find some more positive things to say myself!

I'm going to tag Bod for Tea, Life, As I Know It & Motherventing to see what words of wisdom they spout.

And as for you, dear reader, tell me, what is your most common daily muttering?
x x x

Motherhood - a need to scream

It's 8.15 on a sunny Spring Sunday morning. The birds are singing and I just want to open the window and SCREEEEEEAAAAAAAAM. Loudly. But I won't. I'll just let it build up in my head.

I went downstairs to make a cup of tea and sit for a while. On my own. Two minutes later the husband has sent the children down. I'm annoyed at this. I feel like the Pied Piper with a trail of children behind me all the time. I am now back upstairs banging these words out while they are in my head before the children realise I am not within 2 metres of them. All I want now is space. And peace. And quiet. I'm not going to get it. The husband is in work today. Tomorrow I have planned to take the children to Sheffield to see their big cousins. Right now the thought of driving them all that way in the confined space of a car makes me want to poke cocktail sticks in my eyes.

I feel suffocated. That's the word I've been looking for all this time when discussing things arguing with the husband. Why has it only just come to me now? I feel suffocated by being a mum and all that it entails. I am fed up with everything being on me. Childcare, school run, washing, ironing, cleaning, supermarket shop, taxi for clubs. Child is ill - I have to sort out the logistics for getting the other one to school, preschool, clubs.... Husband stays out - I'm here for the children.

I resent his freedom. The freedom to decide he'll just pop into the pub on the way home from work. The freedom to say he's going out with his work. The freedom to not come back and stay out all night. The freedom to go out on a 'quick' bike ride. The freedom to go to work during the holidays. Sometimes I feel it's avoidance.

I think I've been suffering from SAHMitis, a common condition I fear, where Mums, or Dads, that stay home get fed up. Simple as that. But after the Easter holiday I will no longer be carrying that title, I'll be going back to work 5 mornings a week. So what's my title now? Working Mum I guess. Will that give me the perks of freedom that Working Dad has? I doubt it very much for I'll be working part time. Bringing in a few extra pennies for the household pot. The children will still be my responsibility pretty much 100%.

I know I made the choice, with my husband, to have children and I would never change that. My children are my world. I know there are women absolutely desperate to have children whom, for whatever reason, it is never going to happen. I thank God that I have never had to go through that emotional turmoil. Reading this article in yesterday's Guardian made me feel guilty at first for all of the above, then it annoyed me. Yes, I had the choice to have children and was blessed to get pregnant when I wanted to. But Motherhood is a damn sight harder than I ever dreamed it would be and I have the right to have a bloody good moan about it without being made to feel guilty about it. I apologise if that sounds harsh but if I didn't moan I would be an absolute wreck and a pretty shitty mother. Which I am not. I am a good mother but at times I find it suffocating.

Here endeth the moaning. For now.

Thanks for listening x

I would love to hear your opinions on the Guardian article and any of the above.

 

Juggling Balls - All in a day's work

Smug git!

Image credit



Juggling Balls is all in a day's work for working mothers and that is one of the reasons I have enjoyed being a SAHM so much - it reduces the amount of balls! But recently I have RANTED, and in the past debated, about my choice. Well now I am ready to go back to work. But I am concerned. I am a crap juggler. Seriously. I cannot do it despite being told at a teacher training day many years ago that anyone can learn. Not me. So if I can't keep 3 little multi-coloured balls in the air how on earth am I meant to juggle my children, my husband, me, the home, my career and all the other extras that life throws at us?

I am a well planned, organised person - my teaching file always had colour coded sticky notes a la Monica Geller - but I am not always calm. If something upsets my plans I panic. When I get back to work the day will be meticulously planned out ahead down to the minute that breakfast needs to be finished by, teeth brushed and out of the door. My big freak out is over the fact that the OH will probably be away working for 2 days a week and all over the place for the other 3 days. He has said that things will change and he will do his best to help but ultimately I feel I will take on the bulk (99.9%?) of the responsibility for the children and definitely 100% of the worrying.

I know women do it, I have worked with women that do it but I am still worried about how I will do it. First though I need to get myself a job. Damn! I need to actually get a job! That means job application forms, visiting schools, schmoozing with the heads, sorting out references and if that is successful teaching a class of unknowns whilst being watched, doing a presentation - probably on some new initiative that has been introduced in the last 3 years that I know nothing about, and then the dreaded interview.

So, I don't need to worry about those balls quite yet. Now I'm worried about getting a job. I've only got SAHM to put on the application form to justify the last three years. Oh bugger!!

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