All change

So Jake started school, and just like that, it's half-term.  I was going to write a post about autumn and use the earth's graceful way of dealing with change as a lesson in wisdom to apply to my own life, but I couldn't even get myself dressed this morning - I pulled a muscle in my hip, apparently from sleeping, so I'm having to set my sights a little lower today. 

Here is one half-assed attempt at autumnal poeticism though...try not to blink or you might miss it...

Ah autumn...the ground is aflame with leaves, we are wearing our red winter coats, the conkers are lovely and shiny, and it is now possible to persuade Jake to get ready for bed by 6:30pm!  Seriously though, I've been looking forward to half-term.  I've been trying to enjoy the time to myself while Jake's been at school, but, no matter how chaotic, I miss him when he's not around.  His exuberance about everything, his gorgeous little face, his complete readiness to give me a kiss and a cuddle whenever it's needed.  He's also given my life an intense purpose for so long that I'm finding things without him...well...odd.  Am I still a mother if he's not around?  If I'm not then why aren't I doing something useful?  And if I am then why aren't I doing something mother-ly?  Then there are the questions..."What are you going to do with yourself now that Jake's at school?" and "When are you going to go back to work?"

I wish I had ready answers to those questions, ones I could dole out with a witty ha ha to cover up the anxiety of not having had that sorted out already.  But, for the moment, I can't, so it's a relief to have Jake back with me for a bit, to fill the days with chaos and familiarity and cuddles on-demand again, and to deflect any annoying questions with his inappropriate cheekiness which he can still get away with because he's cute..."Hey fatty boom boom, give us a banana!" and "Have you got a vulva?  I'm gonna call you Vulva Guy!"

Now if that doesn't win me some sort of parenting award, I don't know what will.

Mindful Writing Day

This Thursday the 1st of November is the first ever Mindful Writing Day, organised by Kaspa & Fiona at Writing Our Way Home.  I'll be taking part...what about you?

To join in simply slow down, pay attention to one thing and write it down (making a small stone). Read all about it here.

If you visit Writing Our Way Home today or on Thursday, you'll also find out how to download your free kindle copy of the new anthology, 'A Blackbird Sings: a book of short poems'.

You can also submit your small stone and see it published on the blog, and be entered into a competition to win one of five paperback copies of the book.  Of course, you don't have to show your small stone to anyone, or even tell anyone about it.  The moment you take to stop and pay attention will be yours regardless. 

A Blackbird Sings

I know it's been awhile, apologies for my silence.  And this is just a quick post to let you know I have a teeny tiny poem in this book, now available on Kindle and in paperback.

You can buy it now, or wait till the 1st of November when it will be available to download for free on Kindle for that day only.  

Thank you and enjoy.

Quietly unravelling

In a few days, Jake will be off to his first day of school.  Of course I knew this day was coming but I still can't quite believe it.  There have been loads of first day of school photos and <sobbing> status updates from Facebook friends going through it already.  In the meantime, Jake and I go through our last days of "freedom" together, as if nothing momentous is about to happen. 

While I was getting on with Mummy stuff, Jake sat and quietly drew.  It is going to be momentous, but it is also going to be one moment sandwiched between many many others.  He is always growing.  Life is always going on.  I am calm right now, but also feel a sense of quiet unravelling. 

More food

My breakfast today...cheese on toast, olives and Earl Grey tea

And my lunch...Tortilla Soup and corn on the cob dressed with butter, salt and a squeeze of lime juice

Recipe from Thomasina Miers' book 'Mexican Food Made Simple'

The soup is topped with soured cream, coriander, fried corn tortilla strips, and I used buffalo mozzarella instead of the feta suggested in Tommi's recipe. The texture and milky aftertaste were just perfect.

I'm having pork chops with mushrooms and sweetheart cabbage for dinner.  Can you tell Jake's away?  Photos tomorrow perhaps...

Baking

These were made from Dan Lepard's Muscovado Peanut Cookie recipe.  I renamed them "Nutty Sparks" and adapted the recipe to make it gluten free for a friend.  Oh, and Jake helped me make them.

Some random lists

I love a good list and it's been awhile, so here are five...

Things Jake brought over from his Daddy’s yesterday: his potty, his inflatable Spiderman, a postcard of the Poussin painting Extreme Unction.  What can I say, he likes it.

Things I picked up off the floor after Jake went to his Daddy’s yesterday: bits of blue yarn, an empty chocolate milk carton, a wooden dinosaur (in two bits), wooden dinosaur spine pieces, an assortment of marker pens (miraculously all with correct caps on), dried pasta (as in cooked pasta from a meal that had dried), half a Spiderman sticker, various stuffed animals, a twig, plastic train tracks, a tunnel, lego, megablocks, a Justin Sings cd (shudder), a wet flannel, dried up used wipes, a pair of headphones, a pencil sharpener, several toy cars, purple sand, a cushion, a fleece blanket, a small pair of sunglasses, a batman mask, a few books, a train door, a fire engine door, a bottle of bubble mixture.  I won’t mention the stuff that is still on the floor.  

Things I’ve enjoyed this week: chilli squid, aloe vera juice, pomegranate and rooibos shower gel, chocolate shampoo, an aromatherapy balm for hives, ice, aloe vera gel straight from the fridge, the novel The Reader, going to the newly refurbished William Morris gallery with Jake, seeing Grayson Perry’s Walthamstow Tapestry, a strawberry fruit roll, a sticky toffee muffin, the film At The Height of Summer, cool night air, a light show on Tower Bridge, a sleepover, a white chocolate Magnum, hugs and time with friends, kisses from Jake, cuddles with Yoshi, Toffee Ice cream, a quartet of dragonflies flitting about in the playground, sunshine, rain, being able to sleep, learning to play Sway on the ukulele, the quiet around Walthamstow, the emptiness of the playgrounds, giggling with Jake about Abney’s sneezing on The Adventures of Abney and Teal, comfortable silences, my parents’ faces on Skype, seeing Jake “get” potty training after 1 day in pants, knowing that he will be absolutely fine when he starts school, pink lady apples straight from the fridge, the sauce I made for my pork chops along with said pork chops.  Yum.

 Things Jake has said this week:  "I look tired" ~ "I'll be proud if I have some more (apple)" ~ "I love your bum which means I love you" ~ "I'm just moving this out of the way so I don't tread on it" (so proud of his usage of tread) ~ "I want to be close to you because I love you" ~ "I want you to have a big smile on your face" ~ "Silly is good, not bad" ~ "I want cuddles on the sofa now, I'll go sit on the sofa and get ready"

 Things found on Jake this week: green marker lines on his feet and toenails, a face drawn on his belly (by Daddy) and representing Daddy who had turned into a potato from eating so many potatoes and who got eaten by Jake and turned into a face inside Jake's belly - of course; his Spiderman outfit.

We are hives...

Resistance is futile.

Nevertheless...these remedies are being deployed

I've been getting hives ever since I hit puberty.  They've been appearing every couple of years, mostly in the summer but twice in the winter.  Each time they show up, they are more severe, last longer and are more resistant to antihistamines.  Antihistamines do absolutely nothing for me now but make me drowsy.

The last time they showed up was about 8 years ago and they lasted for about 3 months.  I've visited countless doctors and specialists who all concur that it is hives and some sort of allergic reaction but determining the cause is pretty nigh impossible.  Some health practitioners say that stress can exacerbate hives but not cause them.  Others think stress can cause anything.  I've had hives at times of extreme stress in my life, but there have been times when I've had extreme stress and no hives.  It isn't life-threatening, though I did have it once when I also had influenza and a high temperature and it was the only time in my life I ever fainted. I've had allergy testing and it was "inconclusive."  I've also tried acupuncture, homeopathy and visited a herbalist.  Although the homeopathy worked for hayfever, it didn't for hives.  The other methods did not provide any relief. Each time, the hives eventually go away on their own and, it seems, nothing can stop them from running their course. I've read a lot about hives and their possible treatments and this article is the most accurate in my experience.

The above photo of my own swelling beauties (ooo-er!) was taken today, day 6 of my current cycle of hives, and only one patch of the many making their way across my skin.  Yeah, it does itch, but not all the time.  They are worst in the morning and feel better as the day goes on but start to "act up" again in early evening and overnight.  The most annoying places to get them are my scalp, ears, eyelids, hands and feet.  But they move around so that helps.  I accept that I just have to live with them and that nothing can, as far as I know, stop it in its tracks.  But, I've discovered things that bring relief - aloe vera gel and a balm available from Aroma Healing. 

Other things that bring relief: ice packs, cool drinks, loose, cotton clothing, an appropriate level of scratching, any distractions that stop me dwelling on them, not feeling sorry for myself, not embarking on a programme to cut possible triggers from my life, and kisses from Jake.  The best things in life really are free. 

Hellooooo!

I'm back from holiday and my circles have been updated.

While we were away, Jake "swam" for the first time, aided only by his "armpits"...

Michael Phelps, eat your heart out!

start where you are

It's not easy sometimes...or much of the time, but really, what else can you do?

This says it all

My receipt from the Museum of Childhood shop :-)

This started out as something else

This was gonna be a 100 word diary post.  But now it's this.  There's been a "movement" in blogland you may have come across, called 'Things I'm Afraid To Tell You.'  Gazillions of bloggers have written posts of that title and linked to each other.  It got some media attention.  It was written about in the Huffington Post and stuff.  I'd been thinking of joining in and writing such a post myself but then I realised that almost everything I post on here is something I'm afraid to say.  Thus rendering said post redundant.  So, without further blether, here's what I was going to post, today's not-100 word diary.  Thanks for reading.

Right now, I need to be kind to myself but I just can’t seem to do it.  I started my day posting the photo above on Facebook but now I just want to give it the finger.  But right now, my fingers are cold and this is gonna be longer than 100 words and I don’t care.  Right now, I’m hungry even though I ate dinner three hours ago.  I had spaghetti with flash fried tomatoes and basil. Right now I think I have very few true friends, but this is one of the things I like to torture myself about when I’m having a bad day.  As well as the fact, yes, I said FACT, that I will be single for the rest of my life.  Some sort of punishment of course.  Wanna prove me wrong?  Knock yourself out.  And just so you know, my kid just drew on his face to make me laugh.  Beat that.           

It's not very clear, but he drew a line down his face, across his eyebrow
and some squiggles on his nose.

what happens when you're not straight with your three year old

Looking at some pictures of a friend's baby, I explain to Jake that she came out of her Mummy's tummy.

Jake: Did I come out of your tummy?
Me: Yes you did.
Jake: But how did I get in there?
Me: Ermmmm, well...
Jake: Don't you know?
Me: Yes, I do know, I just don't know how to explain it.
Jake: Just tell me.
Me: Ok, well, Mummy and Daddy planted a special seed and you grew inside me and then you came out of my tummy.
Jake: Oh, ok.
 <Phew>

Two weeks later...

Jake: Mummy, did you buy me?
Me: Did I buy you?  No honey, I didn't buy you.
Jake: Where did I come from then?
Me: Well, Daddy and I made you and you came out of Mummy's tummy, remember I told you about that?
Jake: You MADE me? 
Me: Yes, sort of, do you remember what I told you?
Jake: You made me when you and Daddy planted a tree?
Me: Ermmm, not a tree, a special seed...
Jake: Did you do it wrong Mummy?
Me: Ermmmm, no...I don't think so...what do you mean?
Jake: How did I come out of you?
Me: Ermmm, well...I have a sort of tunnel.
Jake: You have a tunnel?  <pause> Wow.
~
I'm usually so honest with him about everything, but I just can't bring myself to explain about sex - not yet.

P.S. On an irrelevant note: this is my 1200th post on this blog!
P.P.S. To those of you who read my last post and got in touch to ask me if I'm okay...thank you, and yes, I am okay.  You're all lovely.  Thank you for caring.

I don't know

I don’t know if it’s because it’s Thursday

or the longest day, the first day of summer 

and yet we are already creeping towards the dark

I don’t know if it’s because it’s 4:34 in the afternoon 

and I am alone

I don’t know if it’s because The Walkmen 

are playing a waltz on the radio 

or I because I spent the morning with kids in school 

and my little Batman will be off soon

or because I heard of the death of another 

in the arms of his young mother 

or because my Mom’s polyps were benign this time 

or because it’s raining again and I still haven’t cut the grass 

or because a young couple are moving in next door 

or because of the smell of paint 

or the memories I can’t feel 

or the story of the lost owl 

or because I am sending postcards to strangers in China 

and there will always be books I’m not going to get around to reading 

and my shirt is damp 

and the strawberries are bruised 

and there is no one to smell my hair which I got cut two hours ago 

and I don’t know what I mean to you 

and a dog named Zeus licked my feet even though we hadn’t met before 

and probably won’t again 

but I feel as if I’m about to lose everything

as if it is all about to fall away 

and I will empty out 

and not be filled again.

What words do you have for loss?

On a good day

I'm loving this song at the moment.  She plays it on a harp.  Billy Bragg covers it on guitar (video below).  I'll be attempting to teach myself to play it on the uke.

Right now ~ 9 June 2012

I can hear Jake chewing his potato waffle Batman and Robin are on TV and my tongue is still savouring roasted asparagus with garlic and hollandaise sauce.  I went to bed at 4am.  Got home from bridge at 3am and couldn’t sleep.  The later it gets, the more awake I feel.  So I wrote in my journal and read a sample from Bankei Zen on my Kindle.  I was woken before 9am by Yoshi wanting his breakfast.  Nights out aside, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep for over a week and I just can’t seem to shift this cold.

Right now ~ 8 June 2012

The wind is making the silver birch tree sway my fingers smell of clementines my laptop is making a wailing sound and I feel too stupid to blay pridge.  This morning Jake woke up laughing and singing.  Even when he said, “Sing along Mummy,” I didn’t know if he was awake or dreaming.  He was awake.  I said I was tired so he sang me a tired song:  “Starry dee doo.  That’s it!” I need to feed Yoshi.  He likes to stick his head in the fridge, not to sniff meat, but to chew on the packaging for the grapes.

100 word diary ~ 4 June 2012

I am rather fond of moments of insight.  I live as if I’m supposed to see them everywhere.  It’s annoying cos it gives the impression that I know what I’m on about.  Words aren’t the truth.  Just cos this is written doesn’t mean it’s complete and infallible.  If these entries were spoken, would they feel less weighty, or make me feel less twitchy about being misunderstood?  Does it matter?  Don’t we only see what we’re inclined to see anyway, react to what we’re inclined to fear?  These words are not the sum of me.  Then again, who knows what is.

100 word diary ~ 3 June 2012

Most days, I don’t like my face.  I don’t like admitting that.  When I do, people think I have low self-esteem or I’m fishing for compliments.  But it’s because most of the time, I don’t see my face but my mother’s.  I appreciate her more now but I still don’t want to be her.  I want to be me.  I’m slowly getting that life is not about what I want.  But today I looked at my face and loved it.  Sunken half-moons under my eyes, shaky beginnings of crow’s feet, all of it.  I smiled.  And I saw myself smiling.