Don't water too much...

At one level I have good stories of Mother's Day yesterday. Cuppa tea in bed from my children, then out for breakfast with my Mum, tulips and gifts. In a twist of fate my Dad came to stay with us for one night and it just happened to be on Mother's Day. Amazing how having divorced parents can still bite - even at the age of 37. So this meant I couldn't spend the day with my Mum, who is, by the way, the example of the most giving, wonderful, awe-inspiring, loving mothers one could ever hope for or design.

So we had a family lunch nevertheless, without my Mum but with my Dad and my husband's family. All well and good, until I heard myself utter some words to Boo about her table manners that were so laced with disappointment and put-down that the moment they left my lips, I regretted it. In my sideways view I noticed her face etch with shame and oh my goodness, if I could have taken back what I said in that instant I would have. She covered her face. I wanted to cover mine. On Mother's Day of all days.

I do sometimes hold too high standards for her, and I need to stop that. My heart aches now a day later...for even though in the scheme of things it was a minor thing, a mere comment; what it represents to me is the pressure that I don't want her to feel. I don't want to be one of those mothers who layer on subtle pressures day after day; ones that knit together to form a blanket of weight on her little shoulders.

So I am afraid, on this sunny Monday I am feeling kinda sad and pensive...water a little and it will grow; water too much and the plant wilts.

via are so happy

The kids are alright...

This week so far has been spent in the delightful company of my children. May I just say? They are pretty cool. Every now and then testosterone gets the better of my son; it bubbles up and has nowhere to go but to spill over. However, he is the most uncomplicated of souls; all blonde curls and boyish straight-forwardness. My daughter is all beauty and grace. They impressed me when we spent the afternoon helping out with their newest baby cousin. I loved that we could swoop in like a maternal 'big bird' and assist my very tired sister in law who enters week three of motherhood. She was able to sleep while we watched the baby; my children talked in whispers for over an hour and I had to cast my mind back to the days of nappy changes and that bizarre hard-wired mothering skill of rocking a baby to sleep.

I came away though still grateful that my kids are older and they can do stuff. The basic necessity of feeding and sleeping of a newborn was then juxtaposed with the ability and competence of my older children. In the evening, we went swimming and I watched as they leapt and sprang about, underwater, on the water. Thinking back to the days we taught them to swim. Or the day that they first learned to ride a bike. Or the first day of school. Or just standing at the kitchen window watching them on the swings outside, swinging high! It was just yesterday they were being rocked by me and now I am bystander in this new world they are creating. It's bizarre. And quite nice.

As ever, motherhood is a marathon not a sprint - you take each day as it comes.  But each day brings something nearing greatness...even if it's found in the small things.

Baby day...

I am an Auntie again! My latest nephew (I now have three nephews and two nieces) was born late last night. I am so proud of my lovely sister in law who is literally like the little sister I never had. A baby boy to start their family tree. Wonderful, wonderful news.

Over these past weeks as her pregnancy has progressed I have found myself thinking back almost 10 years to the time when I had Boo; my first born. It's with mixed feelings that I remember this time, as although of course we were overjoyed to have our baby, her coming did change me - and us - forever. I was on cloud nine when she arrived, but then, for a short time after, the rain come down and it took me a while to get myself back afterwards. Now as a bystander to another family growing, I find myself conflicted; half wishing I could have my time again and to re-write it with the life experience I have gained now. I was too young then, too unsure and with simply not enough life experience to see through the fog of those early newborn weeks and months. But equally I look back and see how much I learned from those times and how much clarity I have found from having children.

via are so happy

I am right where I want to be and for all the challenging, sleepless times of looking after a young baby, I am now replete with my family. My children are and will always be the single most important, most inventive, most vital thing I ever did - we ever did. I entered the room of motherhood and closed the door and whilst over the years there have been times when I have peeked back through that door to my life before...my main direction of view has been forwards into this ever-expanding room of motherhood, where daily there are experiences and visions of experiences that confirm; I am in the right place.

And just for good measure, a favourite scene that never leaves a dry eye...from 'She's having a baby'.

Full circle...

I go in this full circle every few months. It happens like this...

I make lots of mental and emotional deals with my inner self to try very hard at life and be generally better at everything. I will be a patient and loving mother who gives quality time to her children. I will nurture them and support them. I will be a high-performing employee who is respected for her intellect and expertise in equal measure. I will be an attentive and sparky friend to all of my dearly cherished buddies, regularly meeting up to catch up and share. I will clear my house of all plastic kiddie atrocities and keep it resembling a feature in 'Country Living' at all times. I will eat healthily and responsibly; sourcing local and in-season ingredients to make delicious and nutritious food for myself and my family. I will maintain my hair, body and face so all three are in harmony and a glorious representation of what a 36 year old woman can look like. I will get dressed and treat every day like it is a 'Sartorialist' day. I will wear thoughtful and appropriate outfits characterised by subtle, cool details that people (mainly other women) will admire. I will spend my money responsibly and not fritter it away on unnecessary purchases.

And then some time passes, I try really hard and this is what happens...

I am patient and supportive to my kids for less time than I honestly consider is 'enough'. I secretly long to get online and surf/blog/buy rather than spend time playing games with them (eeek, confession). I feel disillusioned with my employer as I give and give and give and don't get quite so much back. Months go by and I realise I have not spoken to friends and/or have forgotten a birthday. My house goes in peaks and troughs of tidiness; a 'Country Living' spread would be a distinct impossibility today! I eat bad food and then wonder why I have no energy. On the outfit front it's hit or miss - some days are Ugg days. I am longing to buy spring clothes to lift my wintry mood but the funding is not quite there. I could go on....

Then, the next stage in the circle is I think of others who are considerably worse off than me. Friends and acquaintances who have been dealt cards that are so much harder to accept than mine. And I conclude two things: i) I need to get a grip and ii) things really aren't so bad. Finally I decided I need to cut myself some slack, relax and try to enjoy life more without making it all such a Herculean effort.

And off we go again...welcome to the circle :-)

Baby love...

So, did I mention I am going to be an Auntie again? My lovely sister in law N is pregnant, due in a few months. As with many things in life it's been a long road to get here and now, well let's just say we are all as pleased as punch that it's time for a new addition to the family.

 

Her and I just spent the evening talking about babies and birth and the whole damn miracle. A trip down memory lane for me as I realise it was ten years ago that I did all of that business for the first time. TEN YEARS? My goodness. I am not sure how I feel about this! But as for N, I am nothing but excited for her to take this step into motherhood and I hope I can be there along the way to help her out, hold her hand, make it better when it's tough (as it will be tough at times) and just revel in the joys.

To me, there is something really special about being able to observe someone I love go through this process now, when I am so far 'out the other side'. The baby stage was hard for me, as I have blogged about before and I have to admit I kinda want to have a chance again to enjoy being with a baby. I really hope I get that opportunity without quite so much of the angst I had with my own.

...Gisele...how is it possible to be this beautiful?

...'yey' for mothers...

...love the bump...

...baby love...

I have said before motherhood is a marathon not a sprint; the pregnancy/baby stage is just one section of an enormous complex route. But that stage is just so special, especially for the first time when everything is so fresh and new. I wish her all the luck in the world...

Love Auntie Lou xxx

The fine line...

One of my most-used phrases is this: 'it's a fine line between...whatever and whatever' [fill in the blanks; whatever can be anything]. This premise seems to apply to almost all life situations that I face. Some examples:

It's a fine line between pushy parenting and instilling competitiveness in one's children.

It's a fine line between raising a girl to be a woman and making her grow up too soon.

via bippitybobbityboo

It's a fine line between a fresh, modern Keira Knightley bob and the dreaded 'housewife hair' sported by so many women. Note to self: the reason Keira looks awesome with a bob is because she has Keira's face!

Keira at Chanel last week...

It's a fine line between keeping up with what everyone else needs and doing what you need.

It's a fine line between staying trim and looking gaunt/old/ill. Case in point: Victoria Beckham.

It's a fine line between wanting those shoes and needing them.

It's a fine line between spending all your time keeping house and living in squalor if housework is left to its own devices.

It's a fine line between blogging cos I love it and spending all my time on the computer. 'Are you on the computer again Mummy?'

When did this 'fine line' start featuring in every thought I have?! I'm always one to try to find the balance in any circumstance. On the one hand this and on the other hand that...

Achieving the balance of this fine line is like walking a tight rope. If you get your balance it's a wondrous thing, a great view, a thing of art and beauty. If you wobble it can make onlookers wince, you waver there for tantalising moments and then sometimes you regain composure or...you fall. Most of the time there's a safety net so it's OK. I don't recall ever weighing these things up when I was younger, even though I was always a wise soul. But now, with advancing years I see that it's all about this fine line; finding it, walking it, straying from it every now and then...

by Steven Meisel

Little me?

So Boo is nine; I can so recall being that age, when the things that you never noticed when you were eight, now at nine seem much, much more important. She has become more interested in recent months in clothes, her hair...ostensibly she has noticed how she looks. I simultaneously like and struggle with this. I like that she cares about her appearance and that her tastes are developing. I drill in my own preoccupation with clothes needing to be both age and season appropriate - I can not stand bare legs in winter, for example. She gets that the colour pink - which was the mainstay of her entire wardrobe from ages 0 to 4 - is now somewhat relegated.

But then I struggle with it; I wouldn't be me if I just accepted every parental hurdle as 'a phase' would I?! Observing vanity in the very young is off-putting. All we can wish for is that daughters show grace as they grow up; one of the most attractive traits is for style and beauty to be effortless. Where a girl is unaware of the beauty she possesses; in whatever form it comes.

The developing interest in clothes is something I discussed with Amanda when we met; her Boo is a few years younger than mine. It seemed both of us were delighted our daughters were taking an interest in clothes and fashion, as those elements of life were important to us, but both wondering aloud if that made us, err, shallow as mothers? I am aware that the fact that I make the effort may be construed by others as odd/vain/shallow and so surely extolling the same virtues in my daughter is inappropriate?

I guess as they say, the apple never falls far from the tree, and I rationalise this by thinking isn't it better to try one's best when possible? And isn't trying hard with appearance kinda the same thing as trying hard academically or socially? Similar at least? Whatever, it's cool to see her grow and be comfortable in the skin she is in. I have had a life-long love of clothes; certainly my Mum will attest to that and is the same and I think it's no bad thing.

all images via from me to you

Home day/Work day...

Home days, work days. I work part time so my week is split between the two. Work days are peppered through the week; so I have this ongoing contrast of my two 'lives'.

via Everything Fabulous

On home days I immerse myself with the children, the school run, the farmhouse, nutritious after-school snacks, re-grouping, cooking, admin, making piles of ironed laundry (will I ever get to the bottom of the ironing basket?!). My mind empties of the deadlines and strategy and corporate manoeuvring of my work days. What I find bizarre is that in each 'life' I am comfortable. I miss neither one when I do the other. Very rarely do I do any work on home days, other than tracking the state of my inbox. At work, I will sometimes be in a meeting and catch myself, with a shock; the realisation that I haven't even thought about my own children for an hour or two.

I am lucky to have this delineation and the chance to do both. I figure that opportunity is a rare one; maybe I have found and maintained, at least on paper, that pinnacle of the work/life balance. But in reality it can be...confusing. On home days I think and feel so little about work that I wonder why I persist in the double life. Yes, it's a means to an end but there are other consequences which every now and then I am fiercely reminded of. The project that I worked on earlier this year was a case in point, when nothing about life was balanced as I struggled with the professional challenges of an all-encompassing work effort can bring. For sure, home life suffered and the 'wounds' from that are only now making themselves known - you know how sometimes it takes six months for an effect to show in a child's behaviour?

So I keep on - amongst some criticism that I take on too much and the knowledge that my kids may look back on these years and recall me being rather frazzled at times, rushing from work to collect them after school; one of the only Mums at the school gates in heels and a suit, blackberry in hand.

...on home days I bake cakes just like this... ;-)

As I have said before and many commenters have reassured me there is no right answer. I notice though that now my children are older my contemporaries are talking about going back to work, just as the children are more self-sufficient at school. To me, having worked throughout following maternity leave, I would say my children still need me now, perhaps even more. In a way, if I didn't work, that would be of more use to them now than when they were toddlers. The fact is they are so much more aware now...and that awareness I feel when they comment that I spend too much time in front of my laptop or when they know they have to fall quiet in the car if 'Mummy's boss' calls.

Today is a home day, so I am going to zhush...potter...enjoy the view and be there after school full of smiles, in flat shoes, off to look for conkers for the school conker competition...

...the view from my window this morning...

Be better...

So back to school they went, that early-term keen after a summer of few demands. For both of the Boos it's time to step it up. Be better. Try harder. For my daughter this is an important academic year so I had 'the talk' from the teachers and we know; it's time to work. As for my son, he fell behind last year. On the one hand I think he is so young, he should concentrate on kicking a ball and digging mud. That logic is fine so long as all other parents subscribe to it, so my son's habits are not therefore conspicuous. If he is the last in his class because I have chosen to disregard homework in favour of chucking a rugby ball, then that hardly seems fair to him.

via are so happy

I have to look at my reactions to this prospect of trying harder. Instinctively I like it; I feel like September is a gift of a month as it has that 'back to school' sensibility that should be grasped. But at the same time I can sense the work that lays ahead for them both and my involvement in it. I just know that at some point in the cold, dark winter months, when my husband's new job has taken hold and I am sitting at my kitchen table with whichever child, trying to explain the difference between tens and units or learning the order of the Solar System I will think 'what IS this?!'. What I am saying is: it will get old. And it won't take that long! And by the way, it's not as if we are home schooling - when did parental input become so pivotal?

I wonder where my internal measure comes from - why the need to try one's best? For me it's an in-built engine that motors along all the time; analysing, thinking of ways to improve, trying. I apply it to all things...from what to wear to how to have my hair to what I do at work to how the kids do at school. I think it's a good thing, a positive force!

So here is my be better plan:

1. eat well; always got to start with this.

2. walk outside every day.

3. read with my kids every night (no excuses).

4. homework IS a priority.

5. plan holidays - they are the elixir of life...

Check back in a few months time...let's see where this one takes me...

via it's mary ruffle

So, what's happening with you?

I had this strange sensation when I was away that I wanted to write, but had promised myself I wouldn't as it was designed to be time away from everything normal. I noticed it has become 'normal' to write now, which is notable, all things considered. In some ways I spent my time away thinking, but then in other ways I realised I made a concerted effort to think of nothing whatsoever.

I said there were some things afoot in our family. When we were away my husband got a job offer; the kind that has life-changing implications for us, so we spent days considering, pondering, reasoning, punctuated by swims in the pool and beach visits. I find sand between your toes helps in any decision-making process...

the view from the end of my sun lounger...

Meanwhile on other matters:

Every second morning I ran. Early, first thing, before the heat really took hold, I got up and went running, on a deserted farm track that hugged the golf course near where we stayed. Noticing olive, fig and citrus trees as I ran. Sometimes accompanied by stray Portuguese dogs (that made me run that little bit faster; fight or flight? Flight for me, all the way). So my husband and I ran alternate days; initially I beat his time running the same track, eventually he beat my time. I figured unfair: he has shorter legs! On those mornings when I returned and then swam in the pool, before everyone was up, I had moments of happiness that simply must be down to those exercise endorphins. I am not evangelical about many things but I have to say; running is the answer. It just makes you feel so good after. Not often during; but after.

The Boos were great fun. They excelled at late, balmy nights, 'midnight' swims, beach volley-ball at dusk, eclectic dinner menus (Piri-piri anyone?) and were altogether fantastic company. I realised, again and afresh, that babies grow into children who become the best people to chill with in my world. So many shared looks between their Daddy and I as we thought to ourselves 'we made these cool people!'

the view from my fave beach restaurant...

Tropical warm climates are happy-making. No question. To wake to sunshine every day is a gift and I wonder now, as I come home to torrential rain and cloud - why do we live here? England is beautiful but really, would it hurt to be sunny just a little bit more often?

We lived like sloths. Well more importantly, I did. No cleaning, no laundry, no having to be anywhere at any time and I wondered - how can I hold on to this feeling of freedom? Normally, I am a slave to housework. My 'part time' job takes up too much of my time. The tyranny of the school run effects every day of life in term-time. What to do? How to maintain the holiday vibe? Suggestions on a postcard please...

I marvelled daily on how my girl, in particular, is growing up. Is that a nine year old thing? This child, who this summer learned to do backwards dives, can use her body in a way that I can only faintly recall when I was that age. She is just so clever and beautiful. A marvel indeed to me.

Olympian 2016?

Is it wrong that I was back home for no more than a few hours before I started scanning the web for the next holiday? Live for holidays or live for life? Hmmm....

Back to the decision-making process; we mused the life-changes, we looked at every angle, and we decided yep let's go for it. That was in the summer sun of Portugal.

Now we are home, events are actually unfolding in ways that we didn't anticipate, so I am not sure whether it's a stay or go situation afterall as the present employer has a card to play...will keep you posted.

So, now...what's been happening with you?!

It must be Friday...

As keen followers of my lovely sister-in-law's blog you will know that today is all about 'Things of beauty'.  I am very honoured to be writing today's post whilst she is away especially as I have been inactive on the blogging scene for a while.  I hope I do her justice and all the wonderful followers of Lou and her scrummy shoes and trust me.... gorgeous boos! - enjoy the images I load up for today (p.s. I am feeling in a softy, romantic mood....you may have gathered?!)

....one of the most beautiful things in life

maybe I should have started with this picture...first comes love 

then comes marriage, I love her bouquet

...bed linen you'd want to wear, look at those ruffles

..Lou will be in her bikini right now...

or perhaps in something more like this

 while I am enlisting the help of mum trying to work out what I am going to wear to Vintage weekend

from one beautiful lady to another...Cameron my idol

The baby stage...

I have a confession. I did not like the baby stage of motherhood. It's taken me a while to be able to say that comfortably. I had my babies when I was, comparatively speaking, quite young. I was not well prepared. Of all my friends, I pioneered the way, being the first. At the age of 26 when I had my daughter, I don't think I had ever changed a nappy or really even cared for a young baby. Yet there I was, discharged from hospital with this tiny bundle.

At that time my husband had taken a new job as an Executive Assistant or 'EA' - in corporate speak this is the guy who is assigned to an Executive to basically be there every minute of the day, learning the ropes, preparing presentations, meeting the right people. A 'bag carrier' if you will. This meant almost constant presence required in the office, which incidentally was located about 50 miles from where we lived. Let's just say he wasn't home as much as he'd have liked.

I was blue. Soon after the joyousness of having a newborn wore off, and everyone returned to their lives, I was there with a new baby, very few friends in the same position, no sleep and in a state of some anxiety. I marvel at how some new mothers sail through this time. For me it was like being on the choppiest of seas; I was no longer comfortable in my own skin, or in my own presence. Everything I ever knew was turned on its head. It's amazing how such a little addition can change so much. Some say that your relationship with your first-born child is the most complex, as that child is the one who changes you. For me and Boo - this might just be true.

Over time I found my feet, but the blue feeling persisted, as all of the hurdles of new motherhood crept up on me. Breastfeeding a disaster. Sleep-pattern non existent. In fact sleep was non-existent. Meeting like-minded mothers...a gradual, awkward, pain-staking process. Completely absorbing and heavy reliance on the medical profession/self-help books for 'how to do it'. Zero self-assurance. Limited instincts that it was all going to be OK. I think I genuinely felt that those early months would define my life forever. I had no concept that it would get easier.

Of course it did...but the experience did mean that it was four years until I had another child. Having your second child is a whole different ball game, and I knew what to expect when Boo 2 came along. Nevertheless, those blues did make an appearance and I got through it, surrounding myself with strong and patient support.

I now see as we emerge completely - all that remains is an attic full of redundant car seats and baby clothes I can't bear to part with - that the baby stage is just a drop in the ocean of motherhood. It's just one little part of a much, much bigger picture. Looking after and nurturing my children is the most wondrous thing I have ever done and will ever do. I love them all the way to the moon and back. Would never change it. But my goodness those baby days were hard for me. And finally now I see, that's OK. I forgive myself.

Motherhood battle?

I have a friend; one of the mothers at school, who I have closely observed in recent months. She got a new job in her chosen profession, an absolute gift of a role that she would have only dreamed of when she was qualifying. The catch was that it was full-time and there was travel involved. She had made an agreement with her new company that she would have 'every other Friday off' in order to give her some time; a pseudo part-time arrangement. So she took the job and the school mothers stood by and watched as her two children started going to early morning club and after school club and were pretty much at school all the time. A couple of school events passed; a mother's tea party where she did not attend and instead a teacher 'stood in' as Mummy to her five year old son.

via Dust Jacket Attic

I pass no judgement here; I am a working mother and I think working is great, if you can make it work for you. Over the time that passed, it was abundantly clear that the 'Fridays off' were not materialising for my friend. Yet when I asked her she said she loved the job and that it was what she had always been working towards. And I thought great - isn't that, after all, why us women got educated and trained? Exactly so that there was this choice to work and have it all? I sense here I am stepping around some fairly contentious feminist issues, so I will try to tread carefully.

Anyway, I asked her again recently how it was going. She said she was exhausted, that having a cleaner and an ironing lady actually made little difference and what she really needed was some sort of house-keeper/home-maker. Basically someone who was another version of her. Who could help with homework and clear the dishes and do the laundry. So that she didn't have to do a full and demanding day at work and then return home with her children to see the breakfast bowls, complete with congealed milk still on the kitchen table.

You see therein lies the rub. For all that we might want to work and be wildly effective in our working lives, the sacrifice persists. There is no having it all. She is worn out. Her kids are in care a lot of the day. She and they are missing out somewhere along the way, surely (I am sure too that they gain things as well, but still). Yet she is also having the chance to do a great job, is realising her potential professionally.

It's all about choice and as many more lucid women have said before me, there is no ideal; no easy option. Full time motherhood is hard, has it's challenges in the exactly the same way as working motherhood. If there were just a way to clone oneself so that there was a work version and a home version, simultaneously performing,  maybe that would be the answer? Thought provoking stuff indeed...

via tinywhitedaisies

Why is it that...?

Some gentle Tuesday musings on life - from me. With love and wondering...
Why is it that being out in the beach air makes you sleep so well?

Why is it that some mothers are so competitive about their children's abilities and some just aren't?

Why is it that my house fill ups with paper each and every day? Do I need to stop my postman from delivering?

Why is it that I have all the best intentions of doing my ironing/sorting that cupboard/cooking a batch of lasagne at mid-day and then by 8pm I have lost all impetus?

Why is it that my lipstick never ever stays on? Am I doing it wrong?

Why is that so few women actually acknowledge and deal with their visible panty line? Do they think that if they can't see their behinds that their behinds don't exist?

Why is that every time I tell my son it's bedtime he retorts 'NO!'? It's not as if bedtime is a new thing - bedtime comes every night as sure as the sun setting. Why does he persist in questioning the routine of the cosmos?

Why is it that my 'to do' list is never done?

Why is it that my daughter has suddenly become extremely bothered by what she is wearing and how her hair is put up? Not to mention the Justin Bieber fixation...

Why it is that the school summer holidays fill me with joy and worry at the same time?

Why is it that I never, despite evidence to the contrary in my wardrobe, have enough pretty dresses? Did my Mother do something wrong when I was a child? Am I dress-addicted?

via tinywhitedaisies

Why is it that my work days creep up imperceptibly and so very quickly, whereas weekends take an age to arrive?

Why is it that food tastes so much better when my husband has cooked it? Am I that bad a cook?

Why is it that every Mummy day doesn't look and feel like this?

via are so happy

 Answers on a postcard... ;-)