I am strong.

 

What a difference 24 hours can make.

 

I am lying in bed with my biggest little man, watching ‘Inside Out’. A movie that is helping us both explain what is going on with us. I am still Joy, with my blue hair and my yellow dress but she is holding sadness, anger, fear and disgust.  She is clutching them tight, close and keeping them and it together.  My darling little angel is just sadness.

 

I still stand by everything I said about the mirror.

 

However, no matter how hard you work on the reflection to deflect the pebbles and the small stones, a great big sledge hammer wielded by someone else, the mirror doesn’t stand a chance.

 

The sad thing, whatever the sledge hammer was trying to achieve, damage, pain, destruction, complete annihilation, the shards of flying glass hurt the innocent, the little, the uncomprehending the most.

 

Back in September when I decided to continue my blog, I thought it would be a dull year to document, smugness, happiness, building a future after a stormy year…   it seems that the plot of my life has taken one hell of a twist.

 

Last year taught me strength and dignity.  They will serve me well again this year.

 

One of the most powerful visualisations I have ever had was a guided one by Dr Ro.  A very clear vision of myself in 30 years, white haired, still short, long floaty white dress beckoning me to come and see my future.

 

She showed me a couple standing and holding hands, leaning in to each other, on a veranda, overlooking a beautiful garden, rolling down to an expanse of water.  The sun shining, a party in full swing, laughter and music.  My boys grown tall, playing with their children – girls in pretty dresses as it happened.

 

It wasn’t only just what she showed me but what I felt.  Peace.  Calm.  Confidence.  Love.  And my favourite – Joy.  It brought me unwavering faith and belief in my future and happiness.

 

At the time I didn’t know what was about to happen in my life. I didn’t know the rollercoaster and pressure – almost g-force – of the journey my life was about to take.

 

Pressure of any kind can cause cracks, breaks.  In marriage, in love, in relationships, friendships, it is no different.

 

It is easy and quick to blame each other for the cracks, and keep applying the pressure until the cracks turn in to a spiders web and shatter.

 

Or you can look in the mirror. See the cracks.  Be honest.  And have the courage to take responsibility for your part in the cracks.  Be brave to work hard to fix the cracks, reflect and start the healing process by giving more of what you want and what you blame the cracks for.   Study the cracks, what can you hear?   What lesson are they teaching you?   By looking in the mirror, are you willing to put in the time, the effort, the work to repair the breaks.  Are you willing to listen, hear and respond to perhaps hurtful truths and do something about it? Are you willing to show some humility and admit your faults?  Are you willing to give, rather than expect?

 

Ultimately, the question is to ask yourself whether the mirror on the wall worth fighting for at all.

 

It takes courage to fix a mirror;  the edges of the breaks are sharp but the pain and tears are part of the lesson, a reminder of how much love there is within.

 

It takes courage to really look in the mirror and to look at it long and hard.  And sometimes, for some, to know that it has shattered beyond repair, to have the courage to walk away.

 

A while ago now, our mirror was threatened by a sudden sharp application of pressure that made us open our eyes to the spiders web of small cracks, a mirror about to shatter.

 

Last night, I had a reminder of how far I, we, have come.

 

A perfect mirror to others is often not perfect; shiny, beautiful on the outside, superficial on the inside, weak so that one stone can shatter it with one hit.

 

A vintage mirror, faded, fixed and patched with glue, staples and tape through hard work, respect, mutual appreciation, love and an unwavering faith that the mirror was meant to stand the test of time, is unbreakable.

 

No matter if someone or something comes throwing stones.

 

 

Whether I have had a fantastic, on top of the world day or whether I Have had a less than good day… my favourite bit, without a doubt, is the moment I snuggle in to the softness of the neck, press my lips to a warm cheek, run my fingers through silky hair of the most precious boys in the world. Sometimes I curl in next to them… hold them and whisper to them how proud I am of them and how much I love them, in some way believing I Am passing subliminal messages to them as they sleep. 
And as I mould myself to the Big Man, I tell him how lucky we are… and he always agrees. I know he has just done exactly the same as me…. poured love to our boys as they sleep. 

Oh it has happened again!  My major thoughts and contemplations earlier this evening were something totally different to right now… obstacles, hardships, difficult times that make you stronger… Adele’s words singing across my mind, ‘Hello from the other side…’

 

But right now, it is about mistakes and lessons learnt.  Mistakes born out of innocence and fun, in particular.

 

It is said that lightening can’t strike twice.

 

But also that history can repeat itself.

 

And it did today.

 

30 odd years ago, a couple of little 9 year old boys found some corn stubble in the field next to their garden.  And threw it to see how far they would fly.  In their attempts to keep throwing further, one landed in the greenhouse of the next door neighbour.  And then the game changed.  From how far does corn stubble fly… to how many corn stubble does it take to demolish a green house.

 

The parents of the little boys were rather surprised later that evening when they found a policeman on their doorstep asking if they knew about the damage to a greenhouse next door.

 

One little boy owned up.  The other friend didn’t.  One little boy was put to work to clear up the damage and suffer the consequences of a father who had to pay for the replacement greenhouse.

 

Today, in the same garden as the original offence, little boys were throwing windfall apples across the garden to see who could throw the apples the furthest!

 

Can you guess what happened?

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little boy disappear in to the garage and come out with a broom.  Suspicious.

 

Fortunately, no policeman have turned up at the house. But I am not sure who the little boys are more frightened of… an unknown policeman… or an angry Granny or Grandpa whose shed window is smashed and a shed covered in apple pulp!

 

Apple remains swept away, apology letters written, no tv time, no Friday night to the pub for crisps and pop and bed straight after tea time.

 

Consequences.

 

And a lesson learnt.

 

 

 

 

I watched a TED talk this morning.  The incredible mother who lost her husband and daughter in the flash of a moment as their speedboat lost control in Rock a few years ago.  She reminded me that life and time is precious.  To do what you love and spend time with those you love, to live in the moment.

 

And today, I can say I took her advice and did that.  My frequency is high, my happiness levels are rocketing.

 

I woke up with the Big Man sneaking downstairs early to start work… so the bed was mine until 2 little sneaky boys snuck in, one under each arm.  My favourite moment.  I could have cried with gratitude my heart felt so full of love.

 

I went to the school that I am mentoring at, as part of the Prince’s Trust Programme, discussed the importance of trying our best, motivating ourselves to do better.  A fantastic lesson with lots of excitement as we all tried to beat our Squeebles time scores, beat ourselves and beat the group.  But my favourite moment was when one little boy who has remained pretty much mute for the 3 lessons so far, wanted to stand and share his experience.  My favourite moment.  I could have cried with delight, my heart swelled so much with pride.

 

After the lesson, I was asked to go in to see the headmistress.  What had I done?!  I felt like a school girl again.  But she asked me if I would go in for a surprise day she was putting on for all her staff and teachers, and talk to them about health and wellbeing.  In this journey of life, the last few months I have become so much more comfortable in my ‘new’ skin, my new brand as a professional, a business owner, a person of health and vitality, a proud Mother, novice writer.  My favourite moment.  I could have cried with relief, my heart swelled so much with fulfilment.

 

I picked up 4 little boys from school this afternoon, all ready for half term, but all chattering and whittering about the ‘pooh in the pool’, making little pigs, playing rugby, running and apple day tomorrow.  And when the songs came on, they all sang their little hearts out to Adele’s ‘Hello’… My favourite moment.   I could have cried with happiness, my heart swelled so much with joy.

 

And tonight, an impromptu date night.  Grandpa volunteered Granny to babysit so the Big Man and I could go and see the funniest film he had ever seen;  ‘Bridget Jones’ baby’.  It didn’t disappoint.  A bag of popcorn, the Big Man’s hand holding mine, belly guffawing.  My favourite moment.  I did cry.  With laughter.

 

Today, living in the moment, I had so many favourite moments.  The only way to live.

I have noticed that my first blog, journal, daily journal is written as I drive to pick up the boys in the afternoon.  It is written in my head.  I play with words and thoughts… usually based on what I am listening to or conversations I have had in the day.

 

And yet when I write later on in the day I need to download and explore my thoughts of an entirely different nature.

 

Earlier today, I was thinking about my legendary Dad and the conversations I had had at the secondary school yesterday;  how we are going to be coaching and mentoring them on how to make decisions regarding their career, based on their skills, strengths, likes and dislikes.

 

I thought about how my Dad coached and mentored me to make my early career choices, advised me to work hard, go to uni, get a good job, work hard.

 

I remembered also, that he also handed me a purple book with gold writing, ‘Rich Dad, Poor Dad’.  I flicked through it, didn’t read it seriously then.   20 years on, as I read it now, he was inviting me to think bigger than just a job;  to understand the difference between being rich and wealthy, recognise the difference between working hard for money or getting money to work hard for you, to get me to realise the difference between the wage system and the profit system.

 

But as I was reflecting on all that, a phone call came through from my friend.

 

I didn’t know her 2 years ago, but now I cannot imagine my life without her.  We have thrown each other life lines in difficult times.  Shared our secrets, our regrets, our losses, our grief;  our triumphs, our joy, our excitement.   We could have been twins separated at birth, in feelings, sentiments, emotions, beliefs….

 

And so my thoughts this evening have moved on to something entirely different to Rich Dad and his thoughts on trading time for money… and to friendships.

 

In our journey through life, we meet people who become ‘transient’ friends.  Friends for the time of life we are in, or part of the journey we are on – work, motherhood, school, uni, neighbours.

 

But as we move through each chapter, we can’t always take all our friends with us.  As the last page is written, we only have enough hands and space in our heart and time to remain close, stay connected for some.  Family is always there.. Some friends pop in and out, in early chapters and reappear further down the line.  And when we are lucky some friends become part of an extended family and their journey and life path intertwines with our own.

 

 

 

 

 

You smell of poooooooo

 

 

He he he he!  Childish.

 

I had just opened my laptop to write my blog entry for tonight, the blank page shouting at me as I cook supper.  I turn my back to stir the rice in the pot, mull over my day and a little message had appeared on my screen.

 

It made me smile.  In our 40’s, together for nearly 20 years and still send each other silly messages.

 

The whole day has been about smiles.

 

Smiling from ear to ear as I walk round a school with foundations in Art, looking at the incredible artwork done by the students. Reminding me of my young, childhood dream to be an artist.  The work was astounding – one girls drawing in biro, left me wanting to dig out my pencils and start practicing again.  I can feel a new project coming on – a drawing a day… maybe.  I am so excited to be going to work with the children there!  That makes me smile even more!

 

Smiling as I tied up my trainers and ran through the autumn leaves, sprinting until my lungs hurt.

 

Smiling as much as a little girl opposite me as she rubbed the oil I gave her into her skin, she grinned like a Cheshire cat as it took the itch away from her eczema, smiling as it didn’t sting.  I love what I do… make people smile.

 

Smiling as I heard how well my Tom Tom is doing at school, how ‘ernest’ and ‘eager to please’ he is. How he is always smiling.

 

Smiling as Willy kisses me his fastest kisses goodnight.

 

Smiling at the silly message from the Big Man.

 

Smiling as now my blank page is full.

 

 

 

 

 

It was brought to my attention very, very clearly to me how much children watch their parents.  And how much they pick up, take on board and duplicate, so much so that it is like holding a mirror up to yourself.

 

This afternoon, after school, as we all helped at the fundraiser at school, Tom had a good look at all the cakes and biscuits and then came bounding up to me – I want this one!!!  The Brownlee Gold Medal Biscuit.

 

I couldn’t have chosen better myself.  My heroes quickly becoming his.

 

In the car, as I passed round the apples, Willy started sobbing.  ‘I ate cake, Mummy!  I ate bad sugar!!!  I can’t see the bits in my tummy!’….

 

I had to stop the car.  Jump out and throw my arms around him.

 

Recently he has become a little obsessed with his health and his body, wanting ‘those muscly bits just like Daddy’ on his tummy, running around the garden 10 times and doing sit ups with his feet tucked under the sofa, asking school to switch his break biscuits to fruit.

 

I haven’t sobbed or cried after eating cake, but perhaps felt guilty, angry at myself for letting my healthy eating standards slip.  I know both the Big Man and I want our boys to grow up healthy and strong, but perhaps this is a message to lighten up a bit?  The last thing we want is children with eating disorders…

 

The art of finding the fine balance of parenting – being true to yourself and being a good role model for others.

 

Tom also showed up today proudly sporting a black eye and an earring.  No idea where they came from!

 

 

Today was a game of two halves… family and then business focussed.  But both Fun… with a capital F for sure.

 

Willy crept up in to the bed this morning to be a wriggly worm excited about finishing his cake for the school bake off competition.  But not before pancakes and omelettes, Yorkshire tea and smoothies.

 

One of the hardest things I find, is to sit back and let my kids learn; I love to ‘do’ for them, to make life easier for them.  Especially when it comes to cooking.

 

But as the very old and wise saying says – you can give a hungry man a fish, or you can teach him to fish and he will never go hungry again.

 

So, as Willy threw flour and icing sugar, chocolate and fruit around my clean and tidy kitchen, I just bit my tongue, guided him to the next instruction and let him create chaos in clouds of white dust.

 

He had a vision of what he wanted his cake to look like and he created it.

 

Just like my inspirational friend and a fearless leader in my business and industry, she had a dream to fill a room full of like minded people and call them business partners and help them succeed.  And by helping them grow and leading them to success, she grew and saw more success.  And today we celebrated our collective success to the sound of laughter and clinking of glasses… and dreamed even bigger.

 

She has taught us to ‘fish for ourselves’…   and just like Willy, we listen for guidance through the mist of the white noise of our minds until the dust settles, and our dreams are realised.