Today I have been exactly the type of person Ruby Wax in her book ‘Frazzled’ would like to shoot (I can’t remember if she said the word shoot… but it was something like that… )

 

I only started her book this morning but I am hooked already… her dry sense of whit and humour has made me laugh out loud but at the same time given me plenty of food for thought.

 

Apparently ‘frazzled’ is a technical and neurological term to explain focussing on what is worrying you rather than the job in hand.  Frazzledom she talks about is something we are all trying to escape…. And yet all I can see is people being proud of ‘multi-tasking’… getting a lot done all at the same time.

 

I have loved learning about mindfulness and living in the present.  That is where you find the happiness.  As RW says – you can’t search for happiness… you just have to find it in the moment that you are in.  Books ‘the power of now’ and ‘the one thing’ all share the same theme…  and I have shifted from the multi-tasking maniac, now to the person that Ruby wants to shoot!

 

The person who gets up and goes from one thing to the next, from a run, to work, to coffee with a friend, to picking up the kids…. And then dashing out to have cocktails in the evening!  They were her words … and they described my day today to the letter!

 

Her solution… is to rest.  To stop.  And reboot.  I suppose I do that through my 5 minutes of meditation… my moments to find clarity in my frantic day.  And in this.  My brain download of blogging and journalling.

 

Stress she says comes from a couple of things (from what I have heard/read so far)… Being brainy and having too much choice.

 

Being brainy has taken homo sapiens from being an ape happy to simply eat a banana to innovating, creating, maintaining and fixing… and that creating and innovating has made us want more, do more…

 

And having too much choice!  In earlier times, we just ate what we could grow or kill, we had limited choices of careers… and now our time is taken up from choosing from 100 delicacies on a menu or from 30 aisles of a supermarket.  No longer are the choices vanilla, strawberry or chocolate ice-cream… but honey comb, cookie dough dynamo, blueberry pie etc etc etc…

 

I also love her thoughts on connection.  Today she refers to connection being through key boards, our fingers and the internet or iphones, to our i-wife or i-husband talking about our i-home… love that.

 

I think I am going to have fun listening to her 6 week programme  and course of mindfulness.  She is now qualified to write about such things having completed her studies of mindfulness-based cognitive therapy at Oxford Uni.

 

But until I start… tonight, since I can’t de-connect from my iphone as my i-son has just been dispatched to cub ‘packmania’ for 3 nights/4days and the i-big-man is cycling in Italy,  I am going to stress myself silly by choosing from a tapas menu as long as your arm rather than eat a banana..  and possibly drink enough cocktails to make me far less brainy… and that can also be my way to pass out and reboot!

 

Do you ever hear a song and go right back in time?!

 

The new All Saints song ‘One Strike’ came on the radio today and I found myself singing along to the catchy summer tune… and it reminded me of one of my all time favourites from my 20’s – Pure Shores.

 

As I found it on Spotify, I had to turn up the sound and close my eyes and allowed myself to drift back to Phi Phi and our post uni travelling days around Thailand.  ‘The Beach’ actually wasn’t our favourite – James got food poisoning from a restaurant aka shack there.  I didn’t, having seen a rat run through the kitchen, I chose not to eat. Instead, I got an infected mozzy bite and my leg swelled up twice the size.  On our 50p ration a night in Thailand our ‘bedroom’ was next to the sewer.

 

However.

 

The song also took me back to Ao Nang and Thai New Year where we were covered in flour and water by the locals and the incredible empty beaches of white, white sand.  It took me back to the beautiful beaches of Ko Tao where we learnt to Scuba Dive amongst the trigger fish who nibbled on our fins and where our beach hut was quiet, with the occasional thud of a coconut landing on our roof.  I remembered haring around Ko Samui on a dirt bike with only a bikini and helmet free… getting filty in the orange sand.  I remember wishing on a shooting star, bright in the dark unpolluted night sky… and so far it has all come true.

 

It made me remember my journal.  A book I filled with written memories and stuck in paraphernalia… I wrote it every day.

 

And I wanted to find it.

 

But I have no idea where it is!  I think it must be in the boxes above the garage but I couldn’t find a ladder tall enough.  And Willy was shouting at me to put up his tepee.

 

I will find it. And the photograph albums we put together.  We had to do two.  We were only 20/21 at the time and although the Big Man and I had a gut feel we would be together forever, we did 2 just in case.

 

But it is the diary I am most intrigued about.  I have flash back memories of times that I swore I would remember forever…. But I am sure there must be more.  I either need to find the diary or the song that triggers them.

 

We kept the diaries.  The diaries full of our secrets.  The diaries full of our lessons learnt.  To hand to our future children so that they they could learn from our mistakes…. Or at least be pre-warned.

 

My innocence was sweet… and in those days maybe you could be.  My innocence was pure on the shores of Thailand…

 

I can’t wait to find and remember the juicy and dirty details in my journal!!!

 

 

 

I am doing everything I shouldn’t do given my situation.

 

I survived a day on 4 hours sleep.  Something that used to be a regular occurrence when Willy was going through his year of ‘failing to thrive’ and then the multiple years after when he was unlearning the bad habits of not sleeping at night time.  I got used to it then and lived in survival mode.

 

But when I am used to minimum of 8 hours unbroken a night… 4 definitely feels like 50% less.  The 3 am wake up was due to an excited departure of the ‘pioneers’ off to cycle Rome to Bari…  I made the mistake of waking up fully to say goodbye… and then the switch on my brain wouldn’t turn off again….

 

It is 11pm and I am overtired and over stimulated… and what I should be doing is drinking herbal tea, lights low and either reading or listening to my sleep meditation (which is amazing and has me floating on the ceiling)..

 

Instead, it is 11pm and I am in bed, writing my blog on my laptop, watching Grey’s Anatomy (guilty pleasure) and eating a crumbly flake (stupid – chocolate everywhere!).  All of which are stimulants rather than sedatives…

 

At least I am drinking herbal tea.  Peppermint actually.

 

 

I felt the presence of my Mumbo today.  For the first time since she died, I felt it actually quite profoundly.

 

Two clear messages came through today, one from a brilliant talk by Wayne Dyer and the other through a new group coaching workshop I am part of.

 

The first: simply… Let go.  Just let go.  Go with the flow.  Stop grasping, racing, fighting, holding on..

 

The Second:  the answers are inside you.  You know what is right. You know.

 

Previously, I have felt self conscious, embarrassed about meditation… I could never let go.  I could not release my mind, my thoughts and empty my head.  All that white noise clouded the voice within.

 

With practice and help I have improved…

 

This evening, I let go during a guided meditation.  I breathed into my tense shoulders and stiff back and softened.  I allowed myself to open my mind to the voice of the guide and just ‘go with the flow’, to see what would happen.

 

The guide was talking about Kingfishers and how they symbolise a time of prosperity, love, warmth and a new found peace of mind.  AS she was talking, I felt a large Kingfisher (more the size of a cat), come and perch on my shoulder.

 

She was light.  She was the palest of green with a firey red cap.  And all around us was white.  Even when the guide asked us to see our future, all I could see was white. And I just felt calm.

 

I felt calm because when the Kingfisher turned to look at me, I could see the pale green grey eyes of my Mumbo.

 

There were questions.  And the responses were immediate.

 

Question:  What do you want from me?

Answer:  protection, confidence, pride, love.

 

Question:  What is your purpose?

Answer:  You are living it now.  Stop searching.

 

Question:  How can you connect with your intuition?

Answer:  meditate, keep running, focussing on the present moment.

 

Question:  What do you need to let go of?

Answer:  Everything.

 

Question:  When and how do you need to use your dagger-like bill.

Answer:  Now.  As a stake in the ground.  Stay the course.

 

The Kingfisher was to offer us a gift.

 

The gift from my Kingfisher was an act – her huge grey green wings wrapped around my body, protecting me, soft and yet strong.  I was in the arms of my Mum.

 

Letting go, I was able to hear and feel what I know already to be true about myself and my future.

Letting go, I was able to feel the love and protection that I know will always be with me, even though I have felt like it had been lost.

 

Let go.

Go with the flow.

Look within.

Find your kingfisher.

 

Thoughts.

 

The little ones and the big ones that can shape your life and your reality.  The little ones with the little voices can be just as dangerous as the big loud ones.

 

I find it funny that 3 years ago I had no idea how important being aware and understanding your thoughts and whispers in your mind were.

 

Having spent nearly 20 years looking for every little glitch, error, mistake… having played devil’s advocate to ensure we could always prepare and mitigate everything to ensure it would go right… I was always looking for the negative.

 

I didn’t realise how much that took a toll on my mind, my thoughts… It transferred into my every day life, looking for all the little things that weren’t right, not perfect… worrying about everything and every scenario that could go wrong so that I could plan the mitigating actions.

 

It will always be a work in progress, but I do feel that I have turned a huge corner and I can see that having looked back over the last 6 months and the storms I have weathered.

 

I choose now to believe that the best is inevitable.

I choose now to believe that everything will work out for the best, eventually.

I choose now to see the positives in every situation, regardless how hopeless.

I choose now to bat every negative, self doubting thought out of the park and replace it with a positive, empowering phrase.

I choose abundance over lack, gratitude over greed.

I choose positivity over negativity.

I choose to listen to Snow White over Dobby.

 

Thoughts.

They stir up our feelings and emotions.

Our emotions influence our attitudes and therefore our behaviours.

Behaviours determine our habits and ultimately our actions.

It is our actions that take us towards our dreams, goals, happiness or away from it.

 

Once I had read that in many of the books I have read or listen to, over and over again….  Once I understood and saw that it was true…   Managing my thoughts became far easier….

 

 

 

And then there were 4.

 

At the beginning of this week, I was feeling pretty tense, wondering if I had taken on too much?

 

An intimate supper with the owners of the company the Big Man works for… meeting them for the first time:  would he still have a job after an evening with all the Mortimers?!

 

A weekend with my Dad’s new girlfriend… meeting her for the first time:  would we do him proud?  Would I like her?  Would she like us?  How would I feel seeing my Dad with another woman that wasn’t my Mumbo?

 

Well James still has a job…

 

And I feel very relaxed and content and so far from the tense I felt before the weekend.  Edna already feels like part of the family.  My Dad is happy.  I am happy.  And relieved that he has someone to plan the rest of his life with… someone to laugh daily with… and hold hands with.

 

After a final family Sunday lunch with the 8 of us and waving a fond farewell to Grandad and Edna, the usual Sunday afternoon routine is restored.

 

The 3 boys head for a Sunday swim, while I tackle the weekly build up of ironing and my backlog of trash tv; a guilty pleasure to get through a mountain of shirts.

 

The bags are packed – the Big Man’s yearly epic cycle trip for charity and Tom’s first trip to Cubs ‘Packmania’.

 

The Big Man mows the lawn, the boys read followed by a quick and easy supper.

 

And then there is the Sunday Sofa.. 4 of us piled together. Relaxed, restored and ready to start the new week.

 

And then there were 2.  With the odd visit from 1 wanting just one more kiss goodnight.

 

 

 

 

 

Every great day ends with Genépi.

 

And it must have been a really good day as Grandpa brought out the good stuff from his secret Yorkshire stash!  The smooth, delicate flavoured ‘digestif’, indigenous to the Savoie and the French Alps is wonderful after any meal.

 

So why was it such a great day?

 

I can’t put my finger on any one event…

 

It was a melange of family comings and going, a tapestry of old and young woven together, a riot of laughter…

 

We had lost balls and shouts of triumphs as Grandpa and Tom took on Grandad and Willy at tennis.

 

More lost balls at golf at the golf club but back at home,  Grandpa so impressed with Willy hitting the ball with a 7 iron well beyond the length of the tennis court, had to see if he could beat him… and hit the ball over the wall and lost it in our conservatory. The bang was as loud as the sonic boom… but Grandad still slept through it!

 

The boys chose where were went for tea – their favourite pizzeria… the red wine flowed and we carried two sleepy blond boys to bed.

 

And Grandpa fetched his treasured bottle.

 

And here I am again.  Wondering where on earth the week went!

 

It was print day at the magazine today.  So an exciting day.  More for me to watch and learn.

 

All this learning and concentrating, early mornings, long drives, entertaining has left me exhausted this evening…

 

So this time last week, I was tucked up in my bed listening to James snoring… now I am tucked up in my bed hearing the soft lulls and mumbles of debate directly me.. I have left the Grandparents and James discussing the Brexit and politely bowed away.

 

It is very soporific.  Politics always makes me fall asleep.

 

I am ‘alamort’… not ‘alimort’ tonight…

 

 

Well I can see why my Dad is so happy!  And so smitten!

 

I have been excited all day to see my Dad as I the last time I saw him, got to give him a hug, was the morning after Mumbo’s funeral.  I have been nervously excited all day as he was bringing with him the lady he can’t stop talking about, smiling about.

 

I wasn’t really sure what to expect.  And maybe that is because I have started to train my mind to really live in the moment and not to overthink how I will feel, react before the moment itself.

 

The last time my Mumbo came to Yorkshire was almost a year ago and it was a very stressful weekend.  Everyone was tense, worried, nervous.  Mumbo was in the tight clutches of Alzheimer’s and swung from paranoia to jolliness, irrational to tender, vacant to engaged, angry to loving…

 

I remember feeling very confused by the woman in my kitchen;  wanting to mother her, love her, protect her, protect my children from her, shout at her, push her away and yet pull her close all at the same time.

 

I remember wanting to give my Dad a rest and some time… but she only wanted him.  The weekend was not a happy family weekend at all.

 

The lady in my kitchen this evening was a joy and a pleasure to be in the company of.  She emanated a sense of calm.  Her voice gentle and soft as she speaks and even reads to Willy as he draws. Her answers confident as Tom fires question after question at her…  Her pretty blue eyes twinkly as she teases my Dad and he teases her….

 

The lady in my kitchen this evening makes my Dad happy and he clearly makes her happy too.  They joke like they have lived together for years… they are sweet lovebirds, cuddling on my sofa, tender touches of the hand… they shyly share how they met, under the bus stop in the rain and how they went for a walk and instinctively held hands.

 

The lady in my kitchen this evening got the double thumbs up from the boys as I kissed them goodnight.  Even from Willy!  And he is hard nut to crack… their best bits tonight were seeing Grandad and meeting Edna.

 

The tragedy of losing my Mumbo looks like it is going to have an happy ending..

 

A happy ending for 2 people in particular who have been carers for so long, losing the ones they loved to a cruel disease of the mind…. They deserve to have found love and companionship and I am so glad it has happened so unexpectedly.

 

A happy ending for both our collective families, for seeing others happy is happiness and our happy family weekends are now sure to be restored.

 

There is nothing like holding a sleeping baby to make your tension drain away.  How can you feel stressed or worried when you hold someone so gorgeous and peaceful and so openly, vulnerably relaxed?

 

Earlier, I had been chatting to my BFF on the phone – as always a caught few minutes, both talking 100mph, over each other, but hearing every word… a quick download and pep talk with mutual admiration and respect…

 

Part of our conversation turned to the many hats were were wearing.  A bit like the kids story book about Hamilton who loved hats and had a hat for every occasion and experience.

 

We have our ‘Mummy’ hat on for cuddles, kisses, bath time and bed time, bumps and bruises, tea time and story time.

 

We have our ‘taxi driver’ cap on for drop off and pick up at school, parties, sports clubs and kids activities.

 

We have our ‘chef’ toque blanche for dreaming up innovative, healthy kids meals, snacks and smoothies as well as interesting, wholesome suppers for 2 or more..

 

We have our ‘gym bunny’ sweat band for the days and times we have to exercise, work out, do pilates, dog walk, run, bike ride..

 

We have our ‘professor’ mortar board for the days we become professors to help with home work or when we brainstorm with our colleagues or husbands at dinner.

 

We have our ‘glamorous guest’ fascinator or tiara for weddings, christenings, parties or sometimes funerals…. The days we get to spend with friends and chinking glasses and forgetting all other hats…

 

We have our ‘cleaners’ bandana for the days we blitz the house from top to bottom in a random spring clean frenzy or just clean away the breakfast bowls and put on the next load of inevitable washing…

 

We have our ‘secretary’ chignon to organise gifts, cards, thank you’s, invites, diary dates, dinner parties, return library books and all the odd jobs that everyone forgets about but actually take so much time to remember, note down and actually do!

 

We have our ‘siren’ bed hair and heels for the moments someone gets lucky!

 

I have even taken to recently wearing my ‘gardener’ straw hat for the time I spend keeping the flower beds and borders weed free and the planting pots vibrant with colour.

 

When we talked about it I didn’t realise how many hats there were hanging on my head, on so many parents’ heads…   It’s no wonder stress, exhaustion and depression are on the rise.

 

A rather lovely solution, I found today, was to sit in an armchair with a gorgeous, gorgeous 6 month old baby, with her little chubby arms spread wide, head thrown back, sleeping soundly.  Her peacefulness rubbed off on me and just looking at her and how still and content she was made me feel exactly the same way too.

 

All too quickly the moment passed and it was time for us to part and go our separate ways with our taxi driver caps on…