Hand wash cold

I've tried hard to find pleasure in the daily tasks of keeping a home. I've read Karen Maezen Miller 'Hand wash cold' in the hope that this would inspire me somehow. I signed up to the Flylady daily blinks which have tips for keeping on top of your house. I did the Goddess Haven E-course on the Goddess Circle & had a nice corner in a room for a short while that I could focus on and enjoy (it didn't last long sadly).
Still not there though.
I quite enjoy it when it's not essential, when I'm doing it because I have time and I want to. Such as hanging out the washing. I've loved that since I first started doing my own washing. Early in the morning before there is anyone else around I have a quiet, peaceful five minutes where I contemplate nothing but the folds in the sheets and the positioning of the pegs on the line. This little job brings about exactly the mood and tranquil, accepting state Karen describes. From my poorly designed little old terrace the washing blowing in the breeze is one of the few things to glimpse in the garden whilst sat inside. Not satisfied with enjoying hanging it out often I then watch it as it sways and ripples in the sun and constant gentle fen winds. Now I just need to find a way of the hoovering, washing up, cleaning of tables and scrubbing of sinks to bring about the same peaceful, zen like state.
I've kind of accepted that I won't get that vibe going though until the children are older. When the tasks seem a little less on a loop, when the sheer mess made by their existence just pauses for breath occasionally! We're still at the phase where by the time I've wiped a worktop there's a spillage on a floor to mop. I know older children hold their own on the adding to mess front but surely it's not quite the same porridge on a chair cushion, crayon on a mirror and toilet roll shredded around the house? Please tell me that's not forever?

Still. I try not to moan and do my best at looking dutiful and neutral as I go. Hopefully the children will accept it all as part of being part of our household and like me, mutter under their breath as they scrub 'think zen think zen'.

Daddy's day

We don't really 'do' Fathers Day in this house. Not that we don't all think Daddy Bear is amazing, just its not a habit I grew up with. My own dad, The Late Great Brian, did not believe in it and on the one occasion I can remember getting him a card he was actually a little cross at me!

Today is no exception, the relentless family life we lead is not about to ease up for a day...we have a long drive to the other end of the country where we are going to have a day in the woods and at an indoor water park before heading off to Legoland tomorrow....hardly a day in bed!

But still, in honour of the wonder that is The Dude and his amazing, unwaivering first class parent and husband skills heres a few gifts.....Happy Father's Day Daddy Cool from all of us xxx

Countdown has begun

Each of my pregnancies I have enjoyed waking at around 3am for a good hour or so. It would appear that this one is no different. It's hard to be frustrated at the sheer genius of my inner animal though. Preparing me so well for the coming months where this solitary time will become a shared hour of feeding and soothing.

As always at this hour baby is wriggling, turning and kicking. Who knows who started the rhythm of waking now, was it them waking me or me waking them.....I like to think that we wake together. Already deeply in sync. 

As I try to think of a way to use this hour or so of half awakened consciousness my memories drift back to the beautiful birth of my son. It was at this time that things started to become more serious, harder to ignore. I could no longer cat nap through the rhythmic contractions stretching my body and I headed on downstairs to try some new positions to rest in on the sofa whilst listening to some waves and other soothing sounds. 

I wonder if it will be so peaceful and purposeful this time. So gently guided by an inward intuition of what we both needed to do. 

I hope so. It is such an amazing thing to reflect on whenever I doubt my body's strength, or my own power as a woman. 

Whatever happens it won't take anything away from the wonderful night, and the memories of him arriving into my arms, bathed in the early morning sunshine. 

Perhaps this is the best way to use this hour of quiet awareness. This is my mental yoga, my emotional breathing techniques to practice. 

Finally I am welcoming a few yawns and the return of heavy eyelids. In the future world of my dawn time feeds baby must be ready to go back to sleep now and it must be my time to snuggle down and join them. Sweet dreams world x

Barefoot Beats

I love music. I'm not gifted enough to play any instruments (yet) but I do have the equally special mind that really deeply enjoys music. It is essential as air for me.

On the occasions where I nip to the shops alone the only times I choose not to share the moment with my faithful headphones is when there is a rather pleasant song of the brassy blackbird singing through the air. And ever since my sixth Christmas, when I was given what was possibly my favourite and most influential gift - my little red Walkman - I've enjoyed music daily from dusk til dawn and often even in the hours in between. 

It was one of my ideals of starting a blog to share this passion. To provide that jumping off point to discovering a new artist or that introduction to a different sound that may not have been heard before. It sounds a bit inflated of me now I come to share it. 

It's not that I know so much. It's not that my knowledge is so eclectic or impressive. It's just that I have some and I meet so many others that don't. They might be missing out on something they don't even know how much they love yet. 

It's on that 'note' if you will that I will begin to offer my hopefully weekly post on a song or album. This is not going to be any big column of the year nomination bid or anything. Just my excited ramble on why I think something is so cool and why you should try it...even just this once. 

If it takes your fancy watch out here for posts tagged Barefoot Beats and meanwhile...while you await my first expression of musical appreciation get on with downloading Spotify and YouTube on your phone or whatever it is that you use to visit me. Dig out the headphones or at least switch back on the speakers of your laptop (am I the only one who has this turned to off so I can sneak on and off my laptop without any little people wanting a go on Animal Jam?!). 

You might not like all I have to offer and you will probably not agree with all that I have to say about it necessarily but it will be fun to find out wont it?

Crafting with kids - the reality

I've read blog posts, liked images on Instagram and admired art on friends walls..all creations lovingly made together with their children.
I think it's amazing and am quite envious of this. Being talentless in this field myself and not heavily blessed with patience doesn't make for many canvas's hanging on my walls. Still. I have always wanted to provide my children with the opportunities I lacked. Apart from limited exposure at school, sessions I always enjoyed but that were always too short, too rare and too limited, I didn't really get the chance to explore creating.
One of the difficult realities I've had to face up to though is that it's not ever going to be a happy crafting together kinda home here. I don't know if its my own attitude or the three different personalities - I think it's more likely just that its not as easy as all that for anyone. That the end product is shown but that maybe the tears, the argument about the red pen and the sheer mess vs the fun had been omitted from the story.
Well. Just to set the record straight, to add some balance to the blogging crafty family world out there and to reassure those of you who like me...am left wondering if its just my family that can't craft and create peacefully here's a quick example of a recent endeavour the dude enjoyed with the kids one sunny afternoon under the shade of our horse chestnut tree last week.

Needless to say it didn't end well.

How do you want to be remembered?

A friend linked to this blog post the other day from Hands Free Mama, along with the comment that it was 'thought provoking'. I agree it really was. Along with also being very true, very real and very honest. It was uncomfortable in places and encouraging in others. I liked it.
It reminded me of my own pledge a year ago for my children not to remember the top of my head and the tap of my fingers as a lasting memory of their mother. Of my own inward struggle to manage my temper and demonstrate to my little mirror and firebox how to cope with situations without erupting and how to channel the flow when there is no other choice. Also of the ongoing reality of being a mother to my children, my business and myself. Letting myself also be nurtured and loved, giving myself opportunity to grow.
So yes dear friend it was thought provoking. I've come further than I ever realised but am still finding opportunities each day to learn from my less fine moments. But of all else it made me think about what my children will think.
What do you most want your children to remember you as? Loving? Kind? Gentle? Consistent? Fun? Happy? Brave?
I know my fathers generation of parents had a whole different expectation and not forgetting also a reality darkened by wartime pain and memories. My dad would have probably described his mum as a fighter. She was the fantastic tiny little hard as nails northern nanna. If I'd have grown up with her as my mother I wouldn't have pissed her off let's just say! Yet despite never remembering once any loving words from her lips, or even a moment of physical affection when hurt or scared I know so deeply she loved me fiercely. She would do anything for me, for us. As a child I knew it and it still resonates through me now when I think of her.

                            The lovely Edith Mary (second from left) with my grandad, John (first left)


Perhaps being amazing for our children isn't as hard as all the books and blogs make out. Perhaps we just need to really really love our children. Maybe as wild as it seems that is enough.

Steiner, Star Wars and Unschooling.

We love Star Wars in our house.

The grown ups have always loved it. Since The Dude and I met, we've often spent an afternoon watching either A New Hope or Empire Strikes Back, depending on who got to choose. When I was a child I used to watch it in the early mornings when I woke and had the run of the downstairs to entertain myself til everyone was up. Since then I'd say I've probably watched it at least an average of once every other month of my life. It never bores me. I still praise my favourite ever scene of every movie ever made each time it's on ( the scene with Darth Vader, Grand Moff Tarkin and the Death Star dude whose lack of faith Darth Vader finds disturbing!).
As you can imagine we have a fair bit of Star Wars merch kicking around the house. Newt had often mentioned watching it but accepted she was too young, happy enough to wait. Then the Dudes parents cleared out their loft. Suddenly box loads of figures and replica space craft from a 70's childhood arrived. That was it. Newt was hooked. We agreed in the end to watching it together with her understanding some of the bits we may have to skip through.
When we all sat down for that landmark first viewing the Mancub was asleep. But as soon as that opening music began he woke up, his eyes glued to the screen, and that was it - he was rooted to the spot. Barely blinking, rarely moving. He loved it. The space ships, the robots all of it.
That was three months ago.
I have to admit, even as a hardened fan this is not what I had in mind for my near three year old boy. Though we don't regulate or put pressure on our children's screen time I had not planned on them regularly watching Star Wars at this age, if at all really. Lets just say its not very Steiner.
But the Unschooling souls in us has found a way to help it enrich our life together. For one we all share it. Unlike some dreadful Disney that we can't bear to watch we all enjoy watching this together, even now on its hundredth millionth viewing.
I quite like the role model of Princess Leia over The Disney Princesses. Yes she is rescued but she also leads the rebel alliance and is generally pretty god damn cool (though we don't talk about the Return of the Jedi Leia much...a little less tough and a bit more needy as each film goes on!).
One afternoon last month Newt disappeared upstairs on her own for half an hour and when she came back she had copied out her favourite characters into her art book. All by herself. Using her lovely Stockmar beeswax crayons of course.

(Here's R2-D2 and Darth Maul)

For the Mancub it's the ships. He loves them. His interest in planes and rockets has been boosted beyond what we ever thought possible for an under three. Everything flies. His first words muttered under his breath whilst his eyes are still closed but his mind awake are 3,2,1 boom. This is no cartoon or fake image of space ships. They are to him real space fighters, zooming around asteroids and moons (no wait, 'that's no moon'!).

This is Darth Vader (well a Tapir dressed up as Darth Vader) - Newt's favourite character

We've also found it has served as an amazing way to introduce so many concepts and information about the world. Desert, space, swamps, tundra. Personalities, agendas and attitudes. It's a surprise how much of life's teachings can be brought into your home through a set of classic old movies. The Jedi lessons are as valid to children (and grown ups) as they are to young Luke.

So to end my ramble about making the most of every opportunity and sharing passions here's a classic Yoda quote.

Enjoying our time together

About three months into this pregnancy I had a wobbly week or two.
My youngest, the mancub, was still so much my baby. Was it unfair of me to not start 'preparing' him somehow? Should I be easing him 'off me' if there was such a thing? We sleep snuggled up, he fed from me still and whilst newt goes off and has days out, and even weekends away with family he stays firmly here with me. Not because he wants to necessarily but just because he's the little one & it's easier for him to be with me.
As his daytime naps became more sporadic the daytime feeds slipped off completely. Before long it was only a bit of bedtime and breakfast booby...as much about getting him to sleep and letting me have a bit longer in the morning - not essential but just what was wanted and worked for us both. All of a sudden there was a week where he fell asleep every night without asking for boob. A week later I tried offering him a drink and a snack at 5am (his usual wake up time) and that's where we stayed. Thanks to my irritation at the continuous crumbs in the bed (argh pet hate alert) the snacking in bed faded out too now. We just have a drink, a cuddle and get up. Booby has finished though he occasionally still asks when he wakes. But for now the night long snuggles haven't.
I decided instead of preparing him for having me less I'd make sure that these final few months he has me as much as he can. I'm his.
On the days when Newt is out and about with others I've made a special effort to enjoy each other. Instead of using it as a chance to catch up on work I've used it as time to be together.
We've explored the riverbank. Played cars and read stories (....well the same story..over and over!).

Preparing him through attachment, through love and connection feels so much more right. I've been woken by kisses and strokes instead of demands. He runs to get his sandals when Newt leaves for her grandmas instead of crying at the door, knowing we will go somewhere together soon.

 

There is plenty of time for him to not need me. I'm just going to savour this time that he does.

Week 29 - As you were

Well it's been an eventful few days. Or rather it hasn't. I've been on a huge journey and feel like so much has changed yet nothing is any different.

Last week at my routine midwife appointment my midwife, who has been my midwife for all of this and both of my other pregnancies, thought she could hear two heartbeats, one each side. She couldn't work out what position baby was in and was concerned about the general size of bump (though not huge it was very high and full).
Thing is. I wasn't sure either. For about a month I've thought the movements seemed to be very continuous, the position of baby hard to fathom and in general...I felt very full. Whereas last time there was never any doubt to my connection with baby this time I've found it harder. I've felt different and since early on have joked and teased my already anxious husband about there being two!

We talked and I agreed that this would be one of those situations that a scan would be acceptable for us. I had already decided that before I went in had there been any doubt about multiples. The earliest scan I could get was four days later on Monday. Before leaving I quickly slipped in the next most important question....had she done many twin home births?!

On the long walk home though the emotional roller coaster set pace. Coupled with no lunch (cue instant upset lol) I was already finding it hard not to think about it. Kind of like sitting in an empty room with only a red button saying 'do not push'. This was the first day. Shock and slight panic. The second day was the classic guilt, embarrassment and fear. Fear of there being only one and feeling stupid. Fear of there being two. Embarrassment of how much weight I've put on. Guilt at how if there was just one how anything else could all be my fault...too much sugar, too little exercise. Why haven't I been more careful. How did I let it get so bad as to give myself gestational diabetes or worse. Thankfully day three was easier. Poor dude blurted it out to a friend at a festival - I had the upper hand now of being able to say...way to go to keep a secret! We just didn't go there all day, quietly reassuring and loving each other was enough that day. And day four my brain decided enough was enough and it would take charge. It stepped in with the one thing that it knows I will always listen to and cannot ignore. Money worries. It decided to spend the day making me panic and freak about our general lack of finance. Thanks brain. Worked though.

By the time we actually went into the maternity unit I was back to thinking that there would be only one and was not really even surprised when the scan showed just one wriggly mobile busy baby.

It's left a strange deluge of baggage washed up on the shore though. Though my mind is obviously relieved...five months ago I was freaking slightly at the prospect of fitting in just one baby after all....yet my heart feels sad a bit still. This baby has not had any of the excitement and attention the other two earnt. The guilt is already present for that. And I feel strangely now like I haven't any excuse for taking it easy a bit like I would have had there been two little pairs of feet squiggling around in there. Which is daft I know. I'm still having a baby. I'm still mum to two younglings, running a home and a business. Somewhere along the way having a third baby and my general day to day exposure to baby land had taken some of the sacred magic out of all of this.
I also discovered that despite my general feeling of impartialness to the idea of having to go to hospital etc that in fact the only reason I'm so ok about it is that I've not had anything to do with the place for five and a half years! I'm not as ok with it as I thought I was. I was a wreck on the inside at the potential loss of power just going into reception. Might need to work on that after all, you never know what's going to happen even with a Homebirth. I don't fancy tackling that one much during or after labour or something.

I am trying not to think about whether the scan itself was unnecessary now either. Thats Pointless now. I think I needed it this time to ease my multiple mindset. Though I know my midwife respects my decision not to scan and has never pushed against my choice not to have any blood tests etc either I also knew she would probably raise it again at some point in the nine months as we already discussed her feelings towards going into Homebirth without knowing placenta location last time round. At least I can say for sure now there is nothing for them to bother me about and I can go back to slipping nicely under the radar as suits me.

I'll go back to being my nearly normal self. To the outside world I'd never been anywhere anyway. All I'll say is, in the words of Vinny Jones 'its been emotional'.

Creating traditions

In the fluffy and rose tinted days of early family life one of the things me and The Dude talked about was making sure our family still had traditions. Had those things that always happen on those dates. Celebrated certain festivals and respected certain family rituals.
Not being religious means that these little things can be one of the parts of family life that fade. For some Christmas is one of the last of these times though instead of a family walk, or attending Morning service at the church it often sounds more like the traditions revolve around food and television viewing (pessimistic me?!).
One of the festivals I most fancied celebrating was the Day of the Dead at the end of October. A chance to share and remember in a joyful way the loved ones lives who are no longer here on Earth with us. We've yet to do this tho though this year might be the year we start.
Easier for us to integrate are the pagan festivals as they are all seasonal, slotting in to life naturally and gently. Each year we've built on them layer by layer.
When the opportunity arises to start a new tradition though we always try it. We already have our annual summer festival, and the Straw Bear in our home town each winter and then of course the solstices. Theres a pumpkin day at our local Riverford Farm we've enjoyed each year it's run now and a few other similar occasions.
Locally a May Day type fayre is trying to establish itself now, it felt almost our duty to go along and enjoy it with the family.
                                        

I enjoyed the nostalgia of watching the maypole dancing and in hearing what may have been the same warped sounding cassette tinnily blasting out ye olde folk melodies.

 

Sure enough we bumped into lots of friends, some from school, that the Dude hasn't seen for years, the grandparents came along and at the end of the day Newt wanted to know we would go again next year. I imagine we will.

Here comes the Sun..

Spring arrived this weekend. Focusing on the seasons as we do has been interesting this year as apart from a change in the seasonal table, the books that sit alongside it and the colours of the play silks there has been little to demonstrate the difference between winter and spring.

When the sun slowly crept out this morning it was as if it too was stiff and slow from the lack of use all of these months. I enjoyed one of my lifes little pleasures and hung out the washing to sway dry on the line as it's gentle quiet heat warmed my back. I was joined by Mrs Blackbird, who was just like me, pottering and caring for her home and children as she busied herself flitting through the moss and earth in our guttering and between our roof slates. We acknowledged each others presence and continued on with our respective jobs.

As I returned to the house I actually felt a huge weight lift. A deep internal emotional sigh of relief at the start of spring and the end of winter. It has been a long one and all in all quite a challenging one too.
I've never minded winter before and in fact, whilst others cursed and moaned the cold and dark I've always quite enjoyed the cleansing regroup it provides. Reflecting what is going on outside we stay close together, eating rich, nurturing food and protecting ourselves from the elements. But not this year. This year it feels like it has been a strain. I've genuinely struggled with feelings of heaviness and exhaustion. From a delibitating lack of motivation and interest. My devotion and patience as a mother has been tested and my passion and energy for all else faded and tired.
At first I thought it was the pregnancy. Having never experienced SAD like so many others do this time of year it was another obvious assumption to reach. It was my fault. My poor diet. My lack of exercise and numerous other things I should be and wasn't doing. Then at around month four of baby's life I realised it was more than that. This left me more frightened that the pregnancy depression I had when I was pregnant with my second child had returned. In fact, to the point of actually calling and attracting the same issues, misunderstandings and disconnections between me and my soul mate. We bumbled through a few weeks, out of sync and disjointed. But then I just knew it wasn't something 'in' me this time. It was from outside. It was happening to me not from me.  I almost wept a few joyful tears of release as I came back into the house.

I made it. It's going to be ok. Spring has arrived.

The path of least resistance

If your not familiar with Scott Noelle and his 'Daily Groove' emails then this title probably won't mean a lot to you.

I've been signed up to the Daily Groove for what must be about three years now. They land in my inbox, most days, and sometimes they are deleted without opening,other times I open it and quickly scan read it to refresh myself on a thought. Others times I read the whole thing savouring and enjoying it, forwarding it to others who might benefit from that thought right now.
They started to repeat quite a while ago but I've chosen to still stay subscribed. Mainly because even tho I may have read it before it still seems to know when it needs to land to the point if being eerily accurate.
The path of the least resistance is one that really sticks out for me though and it's always nice to see it arrive again. It was one of the first ones I received. I remember how my husband and I laughed at the idea of how resisting even less would look to our already pretty flexible family set up. It was good to read it though and really helped me have a better dialogue with our friends and family about why things were happening differently in our new family household.
It was shortly after this that my now dear friend introduced me to the concept of Radical Unschooling. At the time we hadn't known each other long and I can remember so clearly how she, almost hesitantly, asked me if I followed the theories of RU. I just shrugged my shoulders, smiled and said I've no idea! I'd never heard of it! It was the day that changed my life and our families too. We'd been bobbling along doing our thing, living with the ideal of whatever felt right and made us all happy, we'd no intention of sending Newt to school, I knew of autonomous education but even that didn't fill the picture quite for us, this new name hasn't arisen before. I looked that night on the Internet and it turns out we kinda were already an RU family! It was a moment similar to when I read Dr Sears Attachment Parenting book, five months after I had already been doing all of it! It was reassuring and reaffirming all at once. Shortly after that day I borrowed Dayna Martins 'Radical Unschooling' book (in my top five ever books!) and since then we've only carried on growing and thriving. There's been times where we have been more or less so but the ethos of deep respect, equality in the family and a driven family purpose of happiness has never changed. I know most families strive for all of these things, but if you haven't already, read the book, and a new path of how you can all truly live these things will shine before you!
Anyway, if that all sounds like old hat or too much change for you start gently, with the sign up for Scott's daily update http://dailygroove.net/path-of-least-resistance
You'll be glad you did.

What little girls are made of...

I didn't go to any extremes raising my daughter. Though we told people that she was a girl (unlike one family in Europe recently who withheld this information from family and friends) I was careful not to assume pink, girly was immediately her thing. From birth her room with her things in was bright green and jungle themed. There were monkeys and parrots rather than bunnies and bears. She had pyjamas with planets and rockets on, she always got muddy at every opportunity and used to let herself in and out of the garden via the catflap (good for keeping us all on our toes). Despite having white blonde ringlets I always viewed this more as a Darwinian trait so as to help me spot her as she disappeared into bushes and through holes in the fence more easily, not as angelic, dolly material. For about two years she never allowed us to brush it. That was ok with us, after all it is her hair as I pointed out to anyone who felt the need to comment. I never corrected others but through gentle example tried to encourage questions about books she liked and avoid good girl/pretty hair blah blah type comments aimed at her (not to or with her). She adopted a baby doll that had belonged to my niece, but rather randomly named him Luke. Luke did come places with us and got introduced to everyone who cared enough to glance in her direction at festivals, beaches and campsites. That was it for dolls though really.
Now at five the always 'too much', passionate and extreme loving side of her personality has directed its attention to pinkness. Any merch with Hello Kitty is an object of need and desire. At first I thought this was largely fuelled by some base need to fit in with other girls that she had become friends with. If she liked it herself that would be cool for me but I was worried it was only because of she felt on some level it was what she was supposed to like. But the Radical Unschooler in me cannot judge or control this. I can guide and support but not lead or judge. It wouldn't be fair and wouldn't feel right to me. Instead I have just enjoyed her enjoying. This is the result....
A hideously over the top pink frilly giant cat! It even has purple eyeliner on ha! But hey, who cares? Check out the smile behind that polyester pink cuddly!

 

On a similar note it turns out pretty much since about five months old the Mancub is obsessed with balls, any kind but especially anything resembling the colours and print of a football. As for trains, rockets or planes.....excited is an understatement. The throwing himself around, launching toys like missiles and general roughness is far more intense too than it was with Newt. She was always precise, testing herself in her efforts, pushing herself that bit further, pleasure thrill seeking and life loving. He just lobs himself off the arm of the sofa and hits the floor. Distinctly different.

Its all quite fascinating for me really. As a behaviourist by education it just further backs up my belief that the sexes really are different. And they should be. They had different purposes genetically. Not better or worse. Not inferior just wildly different switches that flick. Surely as long as we accept individuality as well as accepting natural differences its ok to not get too bogged down in you can't have that as its too pink, you must have a doll and pram even though your a boy etc? Hmmmm. And whilst we are discussing gender differences has anyone else noticed that men more often than women seem to pull out all the tea and coffee canisters etc when making hot drinks rather than taking the cup to the can? Is it just me that has noticed this?!! Am I stereotyping myself now?

Can you teach empathy?

Have been pondering on empathy today. So many things in the last year have happened to me which I have witnessed or listened to others experiencing. And I have listened. And tried to imagine how they must feel. But really is there anyway of ever learning true empathy without first experiencing something first hand?
It's such an admiral trait and something often on the list of things we'd all most like our children to display but is that really even possible! They could surely be compassionate or caring but can they ever have empathy? I remember discussing this with my brother in law once as we took the girls out for a day out together by the lakes. He was describing how proud he was of his daughter, how caring she was and how much empathy she had for others. How he thought she might be a teacher, or doctor or nurse one day. He was genuinely taken aback at my honesty at my feelings that my daughter wasn't any of those things really and sometimes it worried me a bit but mostly, I just accepted she wasn't like that yet, or maybe even ever. Of course, she is upset at seeing others upset, she wants everyone to be happy, she tries to make things better but she also just gets on with things, in a oh well its happened style.
For me, it was only when I actually had stress, anxiety about a situation for a few weeks this summer that I really saw that it meant to be like my husband who feels very anxious with certain new, unknown situations. As this is something that I've just never felt the nerves, the sleepless nights about something, fast heart and fluttering stomach for days at a time, I'd never seen how it must be to actually regularly feel like that. I called my sister, who has a well balanced understanding of natural health, conventional medicine and most of all of me. I described how ill I was, how unusual it was for me, how I was wondering if it could be this or that...she just quietly listened on the end of the line and at the end just said 'its stress'. Of course it was. Why didn't I see that? I'd have noticed it instantly in another person. Suddenly I felt terrible about how dismissive I had been over the years at my husbands reaction to this debilitating disease taking over my body and mind. I'd never been mean about it but I had expected him to try to manage it more. Now I  knew.
This wasn't the first time lately it has happened. Strikingly similar scenerios have evolved for me that have happened to those around me who I had some unknown til that moment deep buried guilt that I could have done more to help with or provided a more comforting ear. It's a scary thought too to think I've now opened the door to as worrying that everything heavy or difficult that happens to others is a test on me somehow. If I don't support or care for them enough will this happen to me in some weird karma twist of fate all to teach me some lesson?
I think a healthier, more helpful way of approaching it will be for me instead to start thinking, what would I feel like in that situation? What would I need if that happened to me? And then considering what I could realistically and reliably offer. I'm a get on with it kinda gal. I'm private and pretty self contained and as such struggle sometimes to appreciate that not everyone is like that, and that in fact its a good job they aren't.
Ponder/ramble over. For now anyway. Back to focusing on learning from and improving life with this reflection, one of my resolutions was to say goodbye to guilt....time to start waving and keep it simple, just remember to love others.

Arrival of the supersonic hearing

The first 'that was weird' moment that actually made me wonder if I was pregnant was when stood at the top of the stairs, two rooms away, I could smell the Mancub needed a poo (apologies if that's too much information). With practicing EC with him until about 6 mths its a pregnancy symptom that doesn't fade and is actually really useful. Though it hadn't gone altogether it certainly wasn't that sharp anymore. I stood on the bottom step and thought 'oh hang on a minute'!!

Well at 3am this morning my super sharp hearing arrived. Blissfully unaware of next doors 8 week old baby until then I woke to the distant sound of crying and that was that. I stayed awake until 4.40am ish. Co-sleeping has meant that though I need mother level hearing in case someone wanders around during the night the bat level sonar has been surplus to requirements and must have gone about a year ago.

Funny how you forget all these primitive changes that happen deep inside. So essential from an evolutionary perspective...the ones whose mothers had it made it to pass it along. Blunt but real. So many things people see as problems, pregnancy issues, or complaints. Are they? I celebrate our wonderful mammalian bodies and all they provided us...though, I have to admit. I would prefer to celebrate over breakfast at 7.30am after a nice long deep sleep. After all, my creaky terrace isn't quite the cave we may have once dwelled in and my fat cat downstairs is hardly the predator I need to protect my young from nor does the clank of the milkman's bottles need to sound like an alarm bell in the early hours.  Why couldn't I have inherited some of the genes from the mothers whose children were better cared for and well fed because their mothers had had a descent nights sleep!? I'd like me some of those..

Week 10: Outing ourselves.

We started to tell people this week about baby. I think we both realised it was not going to feel any more real until we did. We could quite happily carry on as if everything was the same and not all different which was easy but not helping us to get our head around it!
But the weird thing is...everything is the same. It's the future that's changed not now. And even then it was only a possible future, one that existed in our minds eye only. There's a cool Buddhist quote along the lines of 'if you are depressed you are living in the past, if you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace you are living in the now' or words to that effect! Sounds right to me.

The one where she cancels everything

I know Friends is naff. I never wanted to like it but after an accidental viewing way back in series one I actually cried laughing and fell in love with its horrible fake thin view of the world and their summary of six character types existing in it. I see it as quite strong minded of me actually to openly admit I like it and find it funny as its just not the cool thing to do!
Anyway. For those of you who share my shameless love of the sitcom you will get why I named this week to myself 'the one where Shona cancels everything'.
After realising and accepting that the Mancub is poorly, that I am subsequently exhausted and that it would be next to worthless to try and continue as planned this week I cancelled all my Appointments, my visits and meet ups. It was powerful to let go like this. To let go of what I should do. To let go of the notion I was letting anyone down. And to commit entirely rather than just verbally to being here for my son when he needed me not just physically but emotionally.
Not everyone understood. The dentist receptionist was unconvinced and a little uppity about my rescheduling, one of the people I was scheduled to meet didn't even reply to my message to acknowledge its receipt. But the majority, some in a much suckier position than me, just wholly agreed and wished me best. Even the professional bod awaiting a response from me found the time to send me get well soon thoughts and festive wishes.
Maybe I could do this more. Not in a let people down don't turn up at last minute way but in a nope I can't do that so I'm not going to kind of way.
This year was the year I began learning how to let go. It's taken a year to get this far and I can see there is still so much yet to learn too. I can see how much lighter I will feel when I have actually released all of these expectations and obligations. When I was a teenager I pretty much never did anything I didn't want to. Not in an intentionally selfish way just in a breathing in and out what feel right now way. I always felt quite true to myself and had that beautiful quality of zero care for others thoughts of me. I never expect to regress to tho sweetly naive state again, realistically not would I want to really either but I would like to have that sense of lightness and realness to my life and person again. It's like waving to a familiar but forgotten friend.
New year resolution one - get to know her again, she was fun!

Day four. Selective memories.

I had a huge circuit of errands to run today. I felt like Bear about Town with my visits to the Post Office, the bank, the library, the fabric shop, the bakers, the chemist and finally the music shop! Whilst walking along I was musing the pros and cons to moving. That's all thrown out now with our new news. I still love the community here. I feel part of something and am freaked out and reassured in equal measures by the familiarity of where I live. It's a new one to me really. I've moved lots and lots. Lots of houses, schools, jobs and friends. Rarely with any sentimentality. In fact I love moving, starting afresh in a new place, finding the short cuts, and getting to know the places to go and not to go. I miss it as its always been a big part of my life.
The other pros and cons that bubbled around my confused little hormone submerged mind was the cool things I'd forgotten about being pregnant. How lucky I am to get my sickness just before 9am and just before 9pm allowing me chance to eat and either get kids up or get them back down! Then there is the nice thick hair, that's always good.
I seem to have completely forgotten though how immobilised I was by headaches and heartburn. How my already ruined teeth suffer even more and then the mood swings. Hmm. Having had a beautiful birth with my second child I had no need to block out certain bits of the birth this time...it would appear I left that for what I thought had been my perfect pregnancy.

Day three. A rabbity mush.

Newt loves watching 'The curse of the were-rabbit' (fortunately we are all Wallace and gromit fans in this house otherwise it might have worn thin by now).
There's a scene where Wallace, who is by now half man half rabbit, is trying to repair an invention that will restore his human form...but the wires all look random to him and the cable connectors like giant carrots. He exclaims to Gromit that 'its no use...my mind is just a rabbity mush' before bursting into exasperated tears.
Well. That's pretty much how I feel trying to get anything done at the moment.
Fortunate to not have horrific sickness or many of the other pregnancy downsides experienced by so many the curse for me is losing my brain!
In a one woman business, unschooling family and at what will be one of our busiest times of the year family wise with Christmas and Birthdays to consider I really can't be waving goodbye to my dear friends logic and rationality right now. I regularly ignore and overrule them but I still enjoy their company. Think an evening getting reacquainted with a good list is in order to try and manage the damage control now before things start to go wrong.

Day two. People in shock x2

After not quite knowing how to raise the surprise subject of the new baby with my lovely, unsuspecting husband a subject arose over dinner last night that offered the perfect opportunity.
We started discussing the folk festival, our annual holiday away together camping in nearby, Cambridge.
I nervously said 'we probably won't be able to go after all this year anyway'. Hippy looked up from his plate in horror at the suggestion and responded instantly with a why??!
I opened and closed my mouth a few times before I managed to say because we will be expecting a baby any day by then! By the look on his face this wasn't clear enough as he just looked very confused! Once I had told him I was pregnant though then what his face became a mirror of mine earlier that day. One of shock and happiness. He kissed me and said how great it was meanwhile I still knew he was just like me....completely blown away.
Over the course of today though, day two, I had two nice little revelations that both helped me feel a bit more with it about the whole thing. The first was whilst I was out shopping in the morning. Surrounded by Christmas lights, piles of gifts and merch as far as the eye could see I suddenly felt all emotional and moved to think of the beautiful little secret gift I had with me. How amazing it was and how grateful I was for it. I distracted myself with the Mancub who was happily collecting arm fulls of bubble mixtures and striding off to the till just to stop myself getting all over emotional and teary eyed in the toy department.
The second little moment was when both me and hippy realised just how excited newt will be when we tell her the news. A new baby and playmate all in one. She will talk about it to everyone she meets and I know she will expect to be there when the baby is ready to be born (she was most put out that she couldn't be there when either of our good friends had babies recently...she genuinely couldn't get why she couldn't go to see it!).
Things are so different this time. She is so much older yet despite the almost identical age differences Mancub seems so much younger than she did when we began this journey last time.

Now for the next challenge - keeping it secret for two weeks...should be interesting!