Moving on

It is almost 2.30 in the afternoon and I am sat at the table regularly glancing up at the clock. It is getting to the time of day when I clock watch in preparation for heading out of the door to re-trace the thousands of steps that have trodden their way to our local primary school and back; nearly seven years and counting. But today there is a pause in that journey. Today we are moving on. Today my babies are walking themselves home and I have been instructed to stay in and lock the door so my girl can use her new key to let them in. Today, as I ran part of my route along the pavement they'll be walking back home along later, I starting worrying. Worrying about the traffic, worrying about strangers, worrying about their safety, worrying about them growing up too fast. But they are moving on and as hard as I try I can't stop that.
On the theme of 'Moving on' I am thinking of how those words play currently in my life. I am focusing hard on moving my career in a different direction with a new challenge but some brave steps will need to be taken and I'm not always feeling brave. We are hopefully moving on with our house; making more space as the children get bigger, creating more space for quiet times and busy family times. I have spent some constructive time in the garden moving it on from a too long forgotten space towards making it a place we want to spend our time in as Spring approaches. Time is ticking by again and as we move on towards Spring there are little signs of it hidden beneath the overgrown shrubs and rickety fences. I look ahead to Summer then scowl at myself for wishing my life away.
But isn't that something we are all guilty off? Moving on too fast. Wishing it was next week, next month, next season, next year for one reason or another. Maybe we need to hold onto the day we are currently living in; appreciate it regardless of how dull the weather may be or how nothing really went to plan and see it as a day that we are alive in. Grasp onto the gratitude that I mused about last year.

Life is precious.

Plans can be made then with a snap of a finger, a few words from a doctor and those plans are gone; the excitement in Grandma's eyes replaced by tears, the plans for a garden in Cornwall for Granddad swept away as he is told that the cancer that has cleared in one area has decided, in it's shitty wisdom, to travel somewhere else up his body and take root there. 

My babies are unaware.

This part of moving on can be put on hold for as long as possible.

I don't want to end feeling too sad but moving on is inevitable and James sing about it beautifully.

I've just looked up at the clock; it's 3.30 and I can hear the key in the front door!

x x x

Musing on a Monday {Smell the strawberries & blow out the candle}

Saturday morning and following a chain of events I found myself in the kitchen crying - as you sometimes do when you're a 39 year old highly strung and emotional female. The children were upstairs, but they still managed to hear me. My girl came down, tiptoed up behind me, wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tight.
She quietly said to me;

"Mummy, to stop crying you should smell the strawberries and blow out the candle."
 

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 

Conkers and Tyntesfield

What a lovely weekend we have just had here. I cannot believe it was October weather. The sky was a perfect blue, the sun was shining and I felt good. The positivity was back. It's amazing how the weather can change that.

We went to work with the husband on Sunday enjoying a picnic outdoors whilst he did whatever he does in his lab. We found a Horse Chestnut tree in the grounds and foraged. And when the work was done we headed up to the National Trust property of Tyntesfield which was hosting 'Made in North Somerset' - a food and craft market. Perfect!

Musing on a Monday {Generational Dinosaurs}

A dropped in comment in a conversation rattled me yesterday.
It went a little bit like this:
"I stuck up for you when he said that I do too much."

An observation had been made on our family life. I took it as a criticism of me. A comment having a dig at our parenting as a partnership, at our balance of roles, at the gender shift in expectations in what we do as a couple, a dig that the husband gets involved in *gasp* the kitchen and *double gasp* the childcare.

Basically 'someone' has seen this as wrong. They've taken a snapshot of our life, seen my husband doing roles that traditionally 30 years ago he would not have done. Well boo hoo. This is 2013 not 1983. We both work to bring in the money, we both work on making the home life function, we both work to get the children to school. It's called teamwork. It's called equality. My husband is no less of a man because he cooks meals. My husband is no less of a man because he does the school run. On the other side I'm not lazy because he does this. We both do it. You see, we work together. I'm a mother, I work to bring in money, I am tired. He's a father, he works to bring in money, he is tired. We are equals.

I quote my friend who added this to a discussion on this point:

"They are unfortunately from a generation that didn't share chores. We've moved on and changed for the better in some ways. Kids are for life and are the responsibility of both parents. They should be praising you both for your hard work and admiring your skills as amazing parents."

That's the point. No-one praises us together. They like to have a dig. I'm expected by some to give support to my husband but somehow they completely miss the point that I need support too.
That saddens me.

How do we make different generations understand change? How do I get my point across in a calm rational manner?! Have you had such experiences?

x x x

Don't mention the 'C' word

The 'C' word?!

*whispers* C*******s

It's already starting to be pinned all over the internet and I've heard rumours of it appearing in supermarkets already and it's only October. Why are people already thinking about it?
I shouldn't pass comment really as we are already looking ahead here as we have decided we need to plan a whole lot better this year. We need to think more carefully about the £s and the ps as recent life changes have impacted the amount of those we have floating around.

So, for the first time in probably forever I have started to sell stuff. Much to the bemusement of the children, baby and toddler toys have slowly been leaving the house as stranger after stranger rings my doorbell with money in their hands in exchange for much loved toys from the past. Each and every pound that has been handed over has carefully been put away in readiness for the festive period. Good planning hey? And the children don't mind, too much.

There were a few, "But we still play with the Happyland", which they don't but it still made me feel guilty and brought back memories of them eagerly unwrapping all these toys over Christmas pasts. Then I did that silly thing of trawling through photo albums and getting weepy over their past Christmases..

 

Not a good move.

But, with my new positive head on my strong shoulders I am looking forward and making plans. And writing Christmas lists. I'm still going to be dropping hints about what I'd like Santa to stuff down my chimney. Top of my wishlist is some pretties for my garden shack like the Vintage Ivy range from dotcomgiftshop...

 

 

 

So with a bit of care and forward thinking we can save some pennies, begin to grab those Christmas bargains off the supermarket shelves - and not eat the tins of chocolates by mid November, buy new toys to replace the old and most importantly create a fresh set of loving and happy memories.

 

Have you started to think about the 'C' word yet and what's on your wishlist?

 

x x x





Musing on a Monday {Grandparent tax}

For the last four days we had a little glimpse into life with Grandparents on the doorstep. A little tease at the benefits, the most obvious being childcare - we saved £44 in just two days with their presence on the school run thus avoiding breakfast and after school clubs. We, that's me and the husband, actually managed a night out at the pub together. Which was lovely. Despite the 24 hours I needed the next day to recuperate but hey, the Grandparents were here! Unfortunately, this is a luxury for us and we see little of the Grandparents due to a combination of distance - Norfolk is pushing it for childcare and France is just taking the p***. They are clearly not local so we don't get the help and support that often. Sometimes this gets me down. 

But, I've been thinking and I may have an answer. Well, a financial one. I have a suggestion for our trusted politicians. I haven't put much thought into the logistics and fairness of it but I think that's how politics works.

Here it is....

A GRANDPARENT TAX BREAK

And here's how it works...

If you have no Grandparents in a 30 mile radius of your home then you are entitled to a tax break to compensate your childcare outgoings as a result of the Grandparents not being able to help out. To fund this all you lucky souls with Grandparents on the doorstep get taxed more!

There you go.
That's fair isn't it?!
I'm sure there are some flaws and it clearly doesn't make up for the emotional crap of not having family nearby but it could soften the blow.



What do you think? Could this work?!

x x x

Image found here

Family getaway

I've been having a little think about family holidays. That week or two that everybody gets all excited about. A time to get away from everyday life. An escape.
I've been thinking some more and racking my brains for a time that our family holiday didn't involve a tent. Hold on a moment.......nope. Not one.
Now don't get me wrong, I love camping and every year since Edith was 2 we have had a camping and/or festival trip. Sometimes though I crave a bit of comfort and a holiday where I do not have to blow up my bed every other night.
Soon that time will be here.
Soon I will undertake my mission as a Butlin's Ambassador to see for myself what makes this type of resort so popular. I am intrigued. This is all new to me. I either camp and let the children run free or leave the children behind - ha ha - and find a boutique hotel for a couple of nights.


So, a first for us, we will be staying for four nights in a Gold Apartment at Minehead, Somerset, where, amongst other things, we will have a dedicated host, daily housekeeping, exclusive reception and, get this, a dishwasher - that in itself is luxury for me. Having perused the website and flicked through the brochures I know we won't be short of things to do. I also know the children are going to love it and I cannot wait to see how the whole Butlin's experience will shape up for us as a whole.



x x x

 

Disclaimer: This upcoming holiday has been paid for by Butlin's as part of my role as a Butlin's Ambassador. As always my views and opinions are honest and are mine.



Housework & Brownie Points

I came across this blog post on Pinterest and pinned it to my Inspiring/Words board to hopefully give me some inspiration to cheer myself up around the house. Let's see.

10 Simple Things to Make You Happier At Home

www.apartmenttherapy.com

Point 7 made me chuckle.

'Do small favors for your housemates, expecting nothing in return (not even a thank you!). (That's right, I said it: nothing!) Mow the lawn for your husband, but don't expect him to pat you on the back. Make the bed for your wife, but don't try to get bonus points for it.'

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.

Silent Sunday

 

Beach therapy

Sea Palling, Norfolk. My dad's birthplace.

There's something about the beach that's good for the soul.

There are simple rules to follow:

You have to run to it.

You must enjoy yourself - no matter what.

You have to play in the sand.

You must leave a message.

This what we found Edith doing quietly.

She asked us all to leave a handprint for Grandad.

x x x

I'm linking up with Country Kids

 

Goodbye dad

My dad passed away in the early hours of Saturday morning.

I was with him, with my mum and two of my brothers, from Friday 3.30 p.m. until half past midnight when we left mum so she could get some sleep and spend the night with dad.

He died just after 4.00 a.m.

I felt crap that we had left mum for just a few hours.

I spent a lot of time on Saturday sitting in dad's room with him and the family - chatting and laughing.

I found that strange. I couldn't laugh whilst we were waiting for the undertakers to come.

I guess we all react differently.

It also occurred to me that this was the first time I had been with all my siblings in the same room for years.

Back at home later on Saturday I went through the photo albums.

I found these....

But only this one of me and my dad...

Back home I dug out my wedding album and blew off the dust to find these...

I will be going back to that church soon to say goodbye again.

Sleep peacefully dad.

x x x

 

Posted with Blogsy

Dad

It's been a while since I last saw you but still I couldn't believe how much you have changed.

I remember you laughing so hard your eyes would water. Now you look so sad.

I look into your eyes and they seem so confused, so far away, so lost.

I'm not sure you know who I am.

The children look wary of you. That makes me sad. I don't think they really understand.

I don't understand.

I remember you cycling to work and back every day on your three-speed bike.

I remember you making us walk for miles in whatever the weather - we dare not complain.

I remember you in your beloved vegetable garden. Mum would always moan that you grew too much, especially when it was just me left at home.

I remember you hanging onto me on the terraces at Carrow Road full of nerves and excitement.

I remember you in your office at home, your head over your calculator, working on accounts in your own time to bring more money in to put us through university and have a good start in life - thank you Dad.

Now I remember you looking sad, slouched in your chair, needing help to sip some drink.

Now I remember you lying asleep in your bed, so peaceful.

Then we had to go.

I hope I see you again Dad.

x x x

Norfolk

I have just returned from a lovely break to my home county of Norfolk.

 

There was laughter, hugs, sandy toes, fish and chips, ice cream, chickens, collecting eggs, windpumps, a boat ride.

 

I showed Edith and Alban my favourite childhood places; memories remembered, memories created.

 

Lots of happiness...

 

 

 

 

...but a little sadness too.

 

x x x

Household happiness - top ten tips for the husband.

It has been almost two weeks since the husband has been on gardening leave and I must say the garden looks great. The house, however, is a different issue. This is where he needs some guidance. So, as suggested by the husband himself, I am writing him a list.

1. Washing up: fairy liquid + washing up sponge + hot water + dirty dishes + hands in sink = washing up. Basic maths really.
2. Dishes and pans etc not only need to be washed up they also need to be dried and moved from the draining board back to the cupboard.
3. When the laundry bag is overflowing it generally means it is time to put a wash on.
4. When the washing machine has finished it will stop sounding like an aeroplane is taking off in the kitchen. This is a useful sign to inform you that the washing needs to moved from said machine onto either the washing line or airer, depending on the weather.
5. The dry washing does not fold, iron or put itself away. Someone needs to do this at some point so we can wear those clothes again.
6. If you walk into a room and trip over a pile of general crap this is a sign that some picking up needs to done.
7. The floors will get dusty and messy, particularly if you continue to walk through the house in your outdoor shoes. There is a great invention under the stairs called a vacuum cleaner, or, for a little area of mess, there is a brush and dustpan. The vacuum has a plug and will require an electrical socket. The brush and dustpan requires you to get down on your knees and do a bit of manual labour. Think of the calories you will be burning off.
8. The bathroom needs a damn good going over every week. For this you will need to open the cupboard on the wall to locate the cleaning products. These work by squeezing the trigger and aiming at the sink, bath, shower and taps. Squirting cleaner into the toilet and leaving it will not do the job. The brush in the pot on the floor is not a piece of modern art, it is in fact for scrubbing crap - quite literally - from the toilet pan.
9. A packed lunch for the children should not need any explaining.
10. To stop me getting 'angry' with you my top tip would be to not disappear to the pub garden when I have been to work, picked up A, done the school run, broken up the squabbles, sorted tea, bathed the children and put them to bed.

Maybe I'm being unreasonable. I don't know. What I do know is I am finding it hard balancing work and everything else. Actually, no, that's wrong. I can easily go to work then come home and sort out the house and children. I would just appreciate some help.

 

 

x x x

Crystal Ball anyone?

 

I'm generally not into fortune telling and all that but I really need a crystal ball. Now.

Changes are afoot, these changes could be huge and could impact us greatly.

The husband wants to take a risk. I don't. I want security and the knowledge that the mortgage will be paid every month with money to spare. We are bickering about what to do. He says I'm negative. I don't see much to be positive about though.

I have my dreams but I'm also realistic. Maybe I'm too serious. Maybe I'm too boring. Maybe life is too short and one day I will look back and regret not trying something new. Maybe in ten years time I will look back and think 'Why the hell did we do that?'

I have a headache thinking about it.

Crystal Ball anyone?

Back to work - the good, the bad and the ugly!

So, I have successfully completed my first week at work. I am no longer a SAHM and the house is still standing, the children aren't psychologically damaged and the world hasn't stopped turning. AND, I haven't felt guilty about my decision.

I have just been sitting here quietly, whilst Alban chills in the front room with a DVD - wasn't he doing that in a past post?! Bad parent! - thinking about this past week. I had panics about returning to work. I had panics about changing Alban's preschool setting this late in the academic year. I had panics about abandoning Edith to Breakfast Club. The usual things to get my knickers in a twist about. I know it's only been a week but already I have found some pros and cons to going back to work. Here they are:

The Good

I feel like a person again, not just a mother and a housekeeper. I have valued the time so much as a SAHM but I needed a change.

I can put my past training to good use. I am a trained primary school teacher and am now working as a TA so I feel I am actually contributing my skills and knowledge again.

I love being a TA. I knew I would love it and it feels great being back in a primary school but with the weight of teaching stress removed from my shoulders.

The Bad

Alban is shattered. He crashed out for two hours on Tuesday afternoon but I know he will soon get used to the earlier starts and new routine. We are only getting up 40 minutes earlier and I have shifted his bedtime - the lazy toad.

People tootling along at 40mph along the derestricted roads. GET OUT OF MY WAY, I AM TRYING TO GET TO WORK ON TIME. I hate being late.

Stressing out about the drop off at preschool / drop off at Breakfast Club / drive to school. The nursery car park is a complete pig and is far too small for the morning rush so we get there 10 minutes early and wait in the car. Sad I know. But, I hate being late.

Stressing out about parking at work. The car park is very tight and the spaces are all angled back on themselves so you have to do some snifty manoeuvres to reverse in in order to get out again. Things like this make me worry. I seriously need to calm down a bit.

The upcoming realisation that I will be working more hours throughout the week and taking home less money than I did teaching for 2 days a week.

The Ugly

Mmmmmmmm. Errrrrrrrr. Erm. Nope. I can't think of anything.

Oh, here's one - when Edith and Alban are feeling under the weather and I'll have to make the decision to send them to school or have to take a day off work. That's when I'll start to feel guilty either way.

How have you felt if you are back at work after being a SAHM?

SAHMs - do you want to go back to work?

Working mums - do you regret your decisions?

I would love to hear your comments.

x x x

The in laws and the need for space

The in laws arrived on Wednesday and moments like that always present a bucketful of pros and cons. Top of the pro list is it means we have babysitters. I have occasionally regularly grumbled on Twitter about the frustrations of having no family nearby to help out so the husband and I have been able to leave the house on our own. The father in law (FIL) has helped the husband put up a fence and make huge advances in the battle of the garden. The mother in law (MIL) has fixed holes in Alban's trousers and beaten me to the pile of washing up after each meal time. All good so far. HOWEVER.........

A big issue I have with seeing the in laws is that it is always at our house. My FIL made the decision to leave England and buy a wreck barn to renovate in the middle of nowhere in France. Actually, wreck is a pretty good choice of word. So we cannot go and see them anymore for a break and change of scenery. They always come to us. I have a big issue with space and we have a severe lack of it in our house. It doesn't take long until we are all bumping into each other, desperate for the toilet at the same time, telling the children different things and needing our own little bit of breathing space. Eventually I want to SCREAM.

The husband and I thought we had come up with a reasonable solution for space - extend the house at the back with a simple kitchen/diner extension and turn the existing box of a kitchen into a downstairs loo and small utility. This would also mean our current lounge could be used as an extra room - a spare room for visitors which would give everybody a bit more space.

Now, according to the Government, we are wealthy. (This judgement was discussed in this post from Mutterings of a Fool who summed up my feelings well) My husband earns enough to be taxed at a higher rate and we will take a huge cut in Child Benefits next year. I'm returning to work next week so we thought our income situation may put us in a good position to borrow some extra with our current mortgage to improve our living space and make life easier at home. The reality was different. I rang the Halifax who made an appointment for us knowing full well their mortgage advisor was not at work that day (?!) so we ended up being told, rather patronisingly over the phone, that we could not borrow any money. Not once were we asked about our income but were judged on the value of our house and our current mortgage - amazingly Halifax valued the house over the phone (again ?!) 20k less than the local estate agents. So, the Government see us as wealthy, the banks see us as a financial risk. Head. Wall. Bang.

Anyway, back to the in laws. The Halifax meeting made me even more frustrated with our space issues and then I started feeling resentful towards the in laws that they buggered off to the France and put all the pressure on us and our house to get together as a family. I am banging my head against the wall as there is no way for us to get some space added to our house. I am banging my head against the wall as I am fed up with being classed as well off due to my husband's income, regardless of the fact I currently earn nothing and when I return to work will be earning a low salary. I am banging my head against the wall with frustration at friends earning more as a joint income, losing nothing and being able to borrow big mortgages to buy big houses.

I am worried about how resentful and rarrggghhhhhh I have become.

Maybe my FIL is onto something leaving the country?