Where are the brakes?

Where are the brakes?

10pm and the sudden realisation that the day has gone and I almost missed a day of blogging!

Where did the day go?

Where are the weeks going?

Did someone say it was half term this Friday?! I thought I had another week! Eek!!!

Time is just racing by… I am hurtling along in a roller coaster, flying round and round…. Never really slowing as I go through the start gates… or are they the end gates?

Any one else feel like that?

Tom is nearly 8, Willy already 6… if the time continues to speed up like it is currently, accelerating every year to go past faster… will we soon enter Warp Speed? Will I wake up one morning, the boys taller than Daddy, leaving home to go to Uni, live in London?

Tonight I will hold them closer, snuffle their faces for longer, linger longer to hug them while they sleep…

Soon they will have left the house and the noise and the clutter, the grassy boots flung by the door, the left up toilet seats, clothes in heaps, discarded book bags, laughter and giggles, the occasional thud, little elephant feet running along the landing and long, heart felt cuddles, hot cheeks against mine… will all be but a distant memory… and there will be quiet.

And how I will miss them.

Where are the brakes? Can you slow the hours? The minutes?

I am going to take one… and live in the moment and appreciate the delicious, delightful chaos that is my life.

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Let there be calm…

It was my intention this morning to write later tonight… after double date night. A little experiment to see what would happen when I had had a few too many drinks! Would I be able to blog?! Type? What would come out?!!!

However, the house is calm. All is quiet. Only the sounds of the dog licking her legs after her walk and swim in the river.

I am calm.

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I am worried why I feel calm? Shouldn’t I be feeling something else? It feels strange to feel this calm…. I haven’t worn this feeling for a while.

I slept last night. An amazing sleep. Nearly 11 hours. Mr OCD turned into Mr Wonderful… I didn’t really hear him get up… And as I wake up at nearly 10am, I find a cold cup of tea on my bedside table; he had obviously come up and given it to me without me waking hours ago.

The boys are fed, chilled and happy.

I offer to take the boys to football, but Mr W wants to take them… so I have another hour or so of peace. Time to myself… I run. It’s a misty, quiet day and it feels good to get out and raise my heart rate – something I hadn’t been able to do for a few days.

I return to find that Mr W is washing my car! With the help of little Willy on the power spray, Mr W teaches him how to go round the alloys to make sure each bit is perfectly clean (he is still Mr OCD!)…

The boys practice rugby throws and catches (we will win the World Cup when the Mortimer brothers play for England – Tom has already stated that he wants to be the England captain)… while Mr W (with his OCD hat on) clears out the garage and sweeps the yard and I get immense satisfaction from moving my summer wardrobe to the spare room and bring out my favourite autumnal clothes. There is something exciting about doing this exercise! It feels like I get a whole new set of clothes but yet somehow there is comfort in that I know they fit, know they don’t itch… it’s like greeting old friends.

It is quiet now, peaceful; the dog has stopped licking, there is the gentle hum of the fridge and the tapping of my fingers…

Mr W has taken the boys for a swim…. It is inflatable time at the pool.

The cynic in me is questioning why Mr W today? What does he want? The rugby is over… so it can’t be because he wants to go out for beers with the boys?

But the calmness is just so lovely, Snow White is bundling Dobby off and out of the house. I am too calm for that noisy sort of self chatter.

I’ll just let it be that he is Mr W today for no other reason than just that he is….

(And the tipsy blog will have to happen another day!)

Sunday Medicine

Sundays to me have always been a little bit about tradition… Family. Walks. Sunday Roasts. Peeling potatoes. The Archers in my childhood, more recently Downton…

Today was the perfect medicine and I found my off switch.

There is nothing lovelier that being brought a cup of tea in bed on a Sunday morning, the curtains opened gently so the sunshine streams in. And as I watch Downton this evening, I wonder how lovely it must have been to have had that every day…. I must have been Lady Mary in another life!

There is nothing lovelier than gathering soft cushions and pillows all around you to have a peaceful 30 minutes of reading a good book, with the gentle noise of 3 boys having breakfast together and I leave them to it for this is the only day a week they get to have a ‘man breakfast’ together…

There is nothing lovelier than pulling on your favourite winter jogging pants, slipping on your trusty trainers and letting popping tunes fill your head as you pound the pavements… There is nothing lovelier than jogging in the autumn – watching your breath whisper in the cool as you sigh at the beautiful countryside in the clear autumn sun, reds, oranges, yellows still mixing with the greens….

There is nothing lovelier than coming home to little boys wanting to throw rugby balls, tennis balls and run around the garden with you.

There is nothing lovelier than an impulse decision to go for lunch and a walk… 2 minute hot steamy showers, grabbing coats and scarves and pocket snacks as we fly out the door…

There is nothing lovelier than the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, rolling lawns, random enormous sculptures made to seem insignificant in the giant spaces, but beautiful, impressive against the blue, blue skies of the North today.

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There is nothing lovelier than seeing your boys race and run, twist and turn, scrap and laugh, clamber and roll… sweaty noses, dirty knees, fishing for pocket treats, asking for ice creams.

There is nothing lovelier than family potato peeling, table laying, Grandparent teasing, clean plates, full bellies… there is nothing lovelier than the first roast ham of the season, nothing lovelier than comfort food.

There is nothing lovelier than hearing the boys read, how well they are doing, hearing how Tom helps his brother recognize words….nothing lovelier than 3 in a bed around one good book.

There is nothing lovelier than a full pot of tea, Sunday TV… and while I am a little melancholy the big man had to leave unexpectedly early, there is nothing lovelier than the realization, I am seeing him on Tuesday, just the 2 of us, our favourite London pub, bottle of red… nothing lovelier.

There is nothing lovelier than going to bed on a Sunday and waking up to brand new week…

Blackberry picking

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Dobby is blocking my conversations with Snow White today. It’s one of those days… he is on my shoulder, in front of my face, relentless.

I feel guilty for eating a curry, for having cake, my jeans feel tight, I haven’t exercised for a week other than a couple of dog walks… I feel unappreciated as I peel potatos, sweet potatos, apples, carrots and make a gluten free crumble. Everything is winding me up – grass all over the kitchen floor from football boots and Timberlands from double rugby this morning…. I can’t remember any time anyone said thank you or made me feel valued or loved… I am sick of having a cold. Frustrated by inertia.

I am torn.

Torn between letting my emotions out and throwing cushions, having a trantrum or a cry… or just growing up and getting on with it. Jobs to be done, Sunday roast to be cooked, rugby kit to be washed, homework to be done… blackberries to be picked.

I pick blackberries… it makes me a little melancholy as I am reminded of the boxes of blackberries I picked with my Mum this time last year…  I wonder how she is?  Dad took in some shampoo and her favourite tea yesterday, I do hope they have washed her … given her a cup of Earl Grey with lemon.

….

I make a wise decision. I put on my earphones and hit the play button to listen to Oprah.

Wherever I had left off before, started with the right chapter, for sure. She talks about her interviews with men who all had affairs, despite their strong loyal ethics. They all had a common theme – they all wanted to be heard, valued, appreciated, listened to… to feel loved.

Isn’t that what everyone wants? The feeling bit anyway – the feeling of being loved and appreciated…

She makes an interesting point – we shouldn’t wait for others to make us feel this way… We need to feel this for ourselves first…. Value ourselves, love ourselves, appreciate what and who we are first…   For then we aren’t reliant on others to feel good, happy. Look inward and work out what is good about ourselves and our lives… Use gratitude as a way of recognizing how lucky, how brilliant, how wonderful we and are lives are.

How did I forget that today? Since reading The Magic last year, gratitude has played a major part of my daily routine – either in the morning or last thing before I got to bed.

How grateful am I to have gorgeous, healthy sons, a kind and generous husband, a beautiful, warm, spacious Yorkshire stone converted barn to live in with all the mod cons (soooo grateful for my washing machine and tumble dryer – imagine doing all that washing by hand?!). How thankful for a lie in this morning, a hand delivered cup of morning tea, a proud 90 minutes on the sidelines watching the boys play rugby and score tries…more than the England team did last night!. Talking of which, gratitude for good friends as neigbours who bring delicious puddings and beers….

Gratitude for Oprah, for itunes and audiobooks to get me back on the happy path and out of the pity party.

So now it’s back to the aga – my in-laws arrive home in a couple of hours, the pork needs to go in and the topping on the crumble needs spreading…. But first, I think I will gather my family for one of our favourite Sunday past-times – a family cuddle on the sofa!