Well… there was barely enough time to butter let alone fill my family sandwich with any ‘me time’.. before the other slice has been slapped with vigour on top.

 

I am sat in A&E in York.  With Tom.

 

I am flitting between hysterical laughter, anger.. and still the lingering anguish and sadness that threatens to spill out again.

 

The Pain Body remained present when I got home last night.  He is like a giant mass of Vaseline following me around.  … The main mass from the  current pain and sadness representing the decline and loss of my Mum. Additional blobs are stuck on like barnacles… each representing a different painful experience…. The loss of our 3 babies, betrayals by those I have loved, friends I have trusted, cruel words in the playground as a child……

 

He has big googly eyes looking at me, reflecting all my secrets and pain.

 

He sat at the table last night while I played Guess Who with Willy.  Silent and watching.

He got into bed with me as I lay trying to sleep, counting my blessings.

He got shoved aside as Willy crept in to cuddle me through the night and kicked out to the shadows as Tom joined us too.

He sat in the back of the car as Tom and I sang to ‘Forever Young’… he even joined in raising his arms and singing…  showing maybe a hint of smile?

He is sitting on the hard purple hospital chair opposite me.  Staring me down.

 

Is another dollop about to be added to his Royal Blobblness?  There is no greater pain than seeing your child in pain…  helplessness.

 

I recall the pain I felt when I saw the shattered bone in Tom’s arm when he fell off the wendy house roof.  He was so brave.  I cried ‘like girl’.

 

He is so brave.

Slide tackled in the playground and into the railings.  Swollen ankle, can’t put weight on it… sucking air in through his teeth as we bumped over the potholes on the back roads on the way to York.

 

And now we wait.

********

As I drive back from A&E, there is a large red mass in the back seat.  The Pain Body has morphed from a pale cream wobbly dull shadow, to a large pulsating pillar box red, angry mass.

 

It keeps diving back into my stomach and swallowing my heart and making my head shout.

 

Until I remember to breath in and out, in and out… live in the moment.

 

In one moment when the angry mass was inside me, I shouted at Tom for putting on an horrendous song on the radio which fuelled my banging anger.  Mortfying.

 

I breath and the Pain Body dives back into the back seat, restless, threatening to dive back in, relentlessly opportunistic.

 

Bullying and nasty behaviour in the playground through December.

A tooth implanted in the forehead after an ‘accidental’ head on collision on Wednesday.

A suspected fracture of the ankle after being slide tackled into the railings on Thursday.

The same names keep coming up.

 

Breathe in and out, in and out.  In and out.

Write.

 

Live in the moment.

 

Tom is happy with his toasty.  Proud of his crutches.  He is one brave solider.  Laughing as I carry him up the stairs… Giggling as we struggle to pull tracky bums over his pot, wondering if he will have to spend the next few days in just his pants!

 

The Big Man is almost home.  He will fight off the red angry mass with his rationality.  He will sooth the pale blob with his love and compassion.

 

In the meantime, I will just focus on breathing in and out, in and out.

 

Dad had told me to prepare myself.

 

He had told me that last time I saw my Mum in November …   I had tried to imagine her decline but facing the reality was just far worse than anything my imagination could visualise.

 

This time I tried a different tactic.

 

I have been listening to and reading ‘The Power of Now’ by Eckhart Tolle.  I have to do both because some of it makes my brain hurt… and it is slow progress as I have to listen or read parts of it multiple times to understand it and then also learn how to put it into practice.

 

On the drive down to Buckinghamshire, I was listening to him explain the concept of Life and the Life Situation.

 

My interpretation and the way I understood how to apply it to my situation was that I needed to live in the ‘now’, the present moment… to live in ‘Life’… the part of life where I breathe in and out while focussing on my immediate surroundings..  Not living in the past and thinking how my Mum was in the hospital with her greasy hair and her stumbling, failing walk nor the future of trying to imagine how she would be;  not thinking how desperately sad I felt back in November, nor trying to anticipate the feelings of how I would feel when I saw her again.  That is my Life Situation …

 

If I live in my Life Situation in my mind, I feel pain, nerves, anxiety, anger, worry…  How will I feel, how will I react?   I have no control over those things until the moment I see her.  Why use and waste energy worrying and trying to predict?

 

So I chose to live in the moment and every single moment until I saw my Mum.

I had a wonderful evening with my Dad, relaxed, precious moments.

I slept deeply.

I ran.  I ran along the ridges in the zero degree, icy cold weather – appreciating nature’s frosty beauty, sadistically enjoying the pain of the cold in my chest and running through the clouds of my breath… turning my face to the sun and living in that moment.

 

Living in each moment, until the moment I saw her.

 

On the way home, I have been listening to Eckhart’s calming staccato voice explaining the concept of the ‘Pain Body’.  How the unconscious mind can let the Pain Body take over your attitude, thoughts and actions…

 

The Pain Body is an accumulation of similar feelings we have stored in our minds over time based on similar experiences and related feelings in the past.  Underlying each negative emotion of anger, betrayal, sadness is pain.  Again, my interpretation of what he is saying is that if you can tune in to your negative feelings and emotions and recognise the Pain Body rising, and consciously appreciate it, you can calm it, face it, deal with it rationally and return to the present moment.

 

I lived in the present moment when I was with Mum.  I was aware of my slight choke and widening eyes as she came into focus as I walked towards her room.

 

She was asleep.  Her jaw slack and mouth open..

She was so thin.  Her hands, little, bony, talons, ringless;  wrists frail and crooked;  her face gaunt, cheeks hollow.

 

I knelt beside her and took her pale, cold hand in mine and kissed her.  She smelt clean and her hair was soft…She is being looked after.

 

As her eyes fluttered awake, she was confused… As I talked calmly, I noticed that when I said ‘Mummy’, she eventually smiled fleetingly until I say the word again.. ‘Mummy’.  Momentary recognition… of what I am not sure, me or that she is a mother?

 

She kept tight hold of my hand as I perched and wouldn’t let go as I met her carers, who come in to introduce themselves.  Robert, Chris and Susan… there are not enough superlatives to describe their positivity, most of all their kindness and generosity of spirit.

 

They bring us lunch and drinks and while Dad’s plate and mine is recognisable as sweet and sour chicken, rice and veg… Mum’s is multi-coloured pureed blobs.

 

Between us, Dad and I gently spoon small mouthfuls into her birdlike mouth and we wipe away remnants with the spoon, just as you do a weening child.  We hold a cup to her mouth as she sips her juice and dab her chin dry.

 

Living in the moment, it was an action, a task, talking calmly, holding her gaze as much as I could, saying ‘Mummy’ to bring a smile to her eyes… sharing stories of my boys, showing her a beautiful album that my Dad has assembled of her life. As we turn the pages, we recount the stories of holidays in France as a family, her exotic trips with Dad, how talented she was at sewing, how much she loved Switzerland, the water, and most of all the snow and skiing.

 

I want to reach inside her mind and ask her if she remembers?  I want to reach in and find out if there is anything of Mumbo left… for she holds my hand, but there is no reaction to the stories or photos.  She utters no words and barely no sounds….my heart stays strong in the moment.

 

Living in the moment, as I say goodbye, I held her tight and kissed her cheek and say I love you and my heart cracks just a little as she whispers a response ‘I love you’….

 

As I walk away down the corridor, I turn back… fatal.  I have to go back and hear it again… but the moment is gone… nothing there.

 

My Pain Body takes about 24 hours to emerge.  My Pain Body is present now.  My Pain Body is agonising sadness and I have to pull off the M1 to write…. To face into the feelings and emotion that is rising out of my heart and my gut and through my mind.

 

Writing is a release.

The huge sob that has just erupted from me, startling my fellow Costa patrons… is release.

 

My Pain Body.  I salute you.  You are big.  You are ugly.  But I let you out and release you.

 

I am living in the present moment.  I have a hot tea… my fingers are flying across the keyboard…

I am calm.

I am present.

I am breathing in and out, in and out.

 

I am ready to get back in the car and find my boys and live in the moment of their hugs and kisses and their delighted shouts of ‘Mummy’… and I will smile, and the happiness will overwhelm the sadness.  Light will flood through the darkness.

 

 

 

 

I am so proud of my Dad. 

As I set off from Leeds after my Mosaic Mentoring class in Armley, I texted my Dad to say I was on my way. The reply came – “let me know when you are an hour away….”

 

As I pulled in to my childhood home drive, I always get a rush of emotion. I’ve only really known 2 homes… Holly Bank, my family home as a child, teenager and as I grew to an adult and the home I have made with the Big Man.

 

And there’s my DJ – big grin – arms open – rushing to open the gate for me…’you made good time!’ 

 

The last time I was home, we were still going through all the jumble of Mum’s obsessive hoarding that was part of her own characterisation of Alzheimer’s. Multiple pieces of unnecessary furniture crowding the space, bundles of towels littering each room, collections of papers, pens, stones, dishes cluttering surfaces and cupboards stuffed to overfilling with decades of fashion items.

 

Dad has done an amazing job – the house is as new. It is spacious and light again. Surfaces free and clean. Clear of clutter….

 

He excitedly asks me if I am ready for supper and a glass of wine…? So much for a dry January! A toast to my 40th… and to accompany my first meal made for me by Dad since I was six. 
 We still laugh at Dad’s culinary mishaps – he was left to cook chips once and Mum came home to a fire singed kitchen. The next time he was allowed to make us tea (without using any form of heat), we had salad… we found slugs in the lettuce, the tomatoes were mouldy and he sprinkled it with frozen peas! It is funny what you remember..

 

But I will remember tonight…

 

At almost 80, my Dad is the proof that you can teach an old dog new tricks… We dined on salmon, potatoes and perfectly crunchy green beans. And then…. AND THEN…..

 

He quietly went back to the oven and pulled out pudding! He had made a bread and butter pudding… his trademark question… ‘would you like cream, custard, ice cream … or all 3?’…
  
 

It was delicious. 

 

For a gentleman who was never allowed to cook after the chip incident and then not even allowed in the kitchen after the frozen pea dinner… he has excelled himself. 

 

I am so proud of my Dad.

 

He recently sent me these words, saying he thought I might like it for my blog one day. It seems fitting that I include it today as I believe it is a beautiful philosophy for life.. and one that my wonderful Dad is living by and by doing so, setting a wonderfully inspiring example to us all:

 

Life is an opportunity, benefit from it. 

Life is beauty, admire it. 

Life is a dream, realize it. 

Life is a challenge, meet it. 

Life is a duty, complete it. 

Life is a game, play it. 

Life is a promise, fulfill it. 

Life is sorrow, overcome it. 

Life is a song, sing it. 

Life is a struggle, accept it. 

Life is a tragedy, confront it. 

Life is an adventure, dare it. 

Life is luck, make it. 

Life is life, fight for it.”

 

Mother Theresa.

Tracking.

A pretty dull topic. But interesting…

One which my accountant husband says I need to do more of for my business.  The more he pushes me, advises me, pleads with me to do it… the more I dig my heels in!

 

I am not sure why…

 

I think about my time as a Management Consultant, I think about my time leading several Agile Scrum teams – the first questions I would ask my teams was ‘where are we against the plan?  What are we currently tracking as actuals against the forecasted plan?’.  At the end of each day, week, month, we would have a clear picture on what we had spent, what we had achieved and would map that against the plan.

 

Reviewing the plan vs actuals we could work out what we would need to do to get back on track.  Did we need to shift time, scope, cost or quality?  What was my communication strategy – raise or lower expectations?

 

We would also reflect on the actuals and what improvements or changes we could make as a team– what was going well, what wasn’t going so well – what did we need to do more of, less of or keep doing to make us improve, get better results?

 

I think about the time when I was trying to shift my baby weight and I set a goal to get fit and healthy again.  I went to the gym and worked with a trainer and a nutritionist over an intense 6 week period.  Part of that was keeping a food diary.

 

I would track what I ate, drank, the exercise I did.  I was weighed and measured, pinched and prodded… and all the results were recorded.

 

Again at the end of each week, we would review the results and ask the questions – ‘Where are we against the plan?  What went well?  What didn’t go so well?’… we tracked my measurements and results and we reviewed my food diary.

 

We worked out I was eaten lots of fruit, but the wrong fruit – high in sugar which meant I kept a little ring of fat around my middle.  We switched them for berries and nuts… If I had eaten chocolate or biscuits or food that didn’t fuel me – we asked why?  Was I tired, bored, greedy?!  What could I do to change that?  Drink a glass of water?  Look at a photo of how I wanted to look again?  Eat dark chocolate if I needed a chocolate fix…   If I missed a training session or a run – why was that?  If I was tired – was it lack of sleep or lack of energy fueling food?  We worked out that I didn’t eat enough good carbs, so we introduced brown rice and sweet potatoes on the days that I trained.  We also worked out that I needed protein at breakfast and the introduction of my power berry vanilla breakfast shake was introduced and my morning productivity sky rocketed – no longer will I eat toast or a croissant!

 

So this year – I have started a tracker for my business….

 

May be I have refused for so long as I already know what it will show me… or maybe it won’t?  But at least now that I am tracking my plan against actuals, I will be able to ask those questions – what is going well, what isn’t going so well?  What can I do more of, less of, do the same…

 

I remember hearing the phrase that the definition of madness is doing the same thing over and over and over again and expecting different results…

 

The first thing to change is awareness… Awareness of what is going on.  Awareness of what is right or wrong, what is good and what is bad…

 

Once you are aware, you can make the conscious decision to change.

 

Sometimes, perhaps it is the knowledge of what awareness will show is what frightens us and that holds us back.  Once we are aware, you have to face into it.

 

Ignorance is bliss for only a short while.

Awareness can lead to greatness.

I am tracking myself to greatness!

 

 

This blog was inspired by a photograph the headmaster at my son’s school tweeted today!

#changeisgood

#awarenessleadstochange

 

You know it has been a good party when there is total devastation and destruction.

Devastation of the living space and destruction of the kidneys, liver and brain…. not forgetting the soles of the feet from dancing!

The remedy for both is time.

 

Time to methodically clear away the remnants and evidence, cleansing and clearing until everything is back in its rightful place.  Mr OCD can’t sit still until it is done.

 

Time to rehydrate a shrivelled Icelandic vodka brain with a long green juice..

 

Time to let Granny’s roast pork settle the rumbly tummy….

 

Time to put my sore feet up and sleep on the sofa with 2 wriggly boys and a snoring Big Man.

 

Time to reflect on how lucky I am to have had such a week of fabulous celebrations with wonderful friends – near and far – and family.

 

 

There is nothing like having guests for dinner to make you tidy up!  I have a dinner party book where I record who we have had for dinner, what we have eaten and what I wore… Anal.. I know.  But I love it! ha!

It makes me realise that we haven’t entertained properly since the Big Man’s birthday in May.

It was in June and the summer that my Mum started her downhill slide in to aggression, paranoia and frustration…

It was over the summer our lives shifted into a different a gear as James moved to London…

It was at the end of the summer that I hung up my apron and closed my entertaining diary.

It is interesting to see that at the end of the summer, I started my blog… and I can see the greyness and dark thoughts and feelings weaving in to my written words.

So as I prepare the house for guests tonight, I move sofa’s that haven’t been moved in 6 months and find a sheen of silver dust.  I shake out curtains and watch the particles glitter in the sunlight…  I move the wine stores and find them laced together with cobwebs…

The dust and cobwebs have been gathering and collecting beautifully… but it is time for them to go..  I polish and suck up the dust, throw out useless items, collect various pieces to take to charity..

 

It is cathartic…  cleansing.

 

I am reminded of one of my favourite phrases – the mental gardening.  As I sweep away physical dust, I empty my mind of emotional deposits.  I explore in to some of the darkest corners and draw out some of the darkest feelings I have harboured for nearly 2 years…  I suck it out…. and just as I click the release button on the hoover, I do the same for my mind.

 

Out with the cobwebs which ensnare the dust.

Out with the feelings that trap the dark thoughts…

 

Let the party begin!

 

 

 

The sky in Yorkshire is a beautiful blue..

The sun is beginning to set and the last rays of sun are casting the most stunning warm light on to the yellow yorkshire stone, turning it golden…

It is bitterly cold outside…

There is frost on the ground…

but here in my kitchen, it is toasty and warm…

The smell of roasting chicken for the boys’ tea is making me salivate…

 

The roasting chicken signifies a Friday night… chicken and chips for the boys and then chicken and adult sides for us later…

 

It is a routine thing.

It is a comfort thing.

 

There is a time for both routine and comfort.  However, when it comes to food, too much of it reminds me of my reaction at the time when we found out that our little baby, our little Willy mouse had been diagnosed at 15 months with coeliac disease.

 

It had been one of the options the surgeons and doctors had been discussing, alongside pyloric stenosis, twisted bowels, redundant loops of the intestines… all which would have required open stomach surgery… and in fact we were in the Leeds General Infirmary at the time for that very reason…   A diagnosis of Coeliac would be the best outcome, the prognosis good with a change in diet to be gluten free.

 

So when the surgeon noticed intussusceptions, the endoscopy then confirmed coeliac disease, why was my reaction one of despair!?  In fact, it was something out of a comedy…. my reaction in my head shouted… ‘but what will I give everyone for lunch instead of a sandwich????’   I was far more concerned about my usual routine of food shopping….

 

What I have learnt from that is that any change, regardless of how small, insignificant is that change is good.  Being flexible is fantastic….

 

From a no sandwich lunchtime, we have embraced varied and colourful lunches – baked sweet potatoes, exciting salads, barbeques, quinoa (it’s actually delicious!) and much more… and as a result from all of us removing gluten and wheat, we are far healthier.

 

So a change in routine, a change from our comforting habits can lead to good things, better things… it teaches us new things, forces us to grow and adapt… and that can only be a good thing.

 

I recalled this when James said he was going to move to take a good role in London – I looked for the good that could come out of it… In fact, I have returned to reading in the evening rather than watching random dramas.  I have gone to bed earlier, which means I can get up earlier and do pilates and be ready for the early school run..

 

As we are on the brink of more change, with Hannah leaving us and as I move in to my 5th decade, I am excited rather than nervous about the added complexity this will add in to my life… Who knows what this change from routine will bring!  It may take a while working it all out – just like we did the non-sandwich lunch… but just like the change in season, as the dark long days are starting to be bright… we can see that Spring is around the corner…

 

I wait with anticipation and baited breathe as to what the universe has in store for us!

Feeling hugely overwhelmed with all the kind words, birthday wishes, cards, flowers and presents… And especially the love from friends and family today who have made it so special…. 
I am feeling incredibly grateful, happy, lucky… And a little tipsy… 
The best is that the big man is home. 2 and a half hours before the end of the day, he made it back to Yorkshire… Icing on the cake on the perfect 40th birthday…. 
  

There is great excitement tonight!  Am almost too excited to blog….

 

The boys are so terribly excited that it’s my birthday tomorrow…

I am so excited it’s my birthday tomorrow!  First time I have felt that in years…

 

The boys are excited as I think they have drawn me cards and pictures and I have to go on a treasure hunt to find them…

 

I am excited …  just because I am moving in to the next decade…

 

I don’t remember my pre-teens that much…

My teens were fun… I loved school, it was packed with sports and friends and fun…

My twenties were even more fun at uni, being free… meeting the Big Man… starting to work, having my own money, learning so much… finding out what my true talents and abilities were… gaining confidence in myself.

My thirties have been all about marriage, children and family… growing up in the sense of taking responsibility for my life, if not growing up in maturity sometimes…

 

As I go to sleep for my last night in my 30’s… I suddenly feel a sense of calm.  I feel as sense of peace.  Something has switched in my head.  Some negative feelings I have been holding on to have dissipated… I can look at them maturely and let them go.

 

As I go to sleep for the last night in my 30’s… I feel excited.  I feel excited to be woken early by the crazy boys… with currently crazy long blond hair (they are wannabe lookalike teenage singer – orlando someone?)…

 

As I go to sleep for the last night in my 30’s… I feel excited!  It’s going to snow in Boston Spa tomorrow!!!!!  BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER!!!!!!