Carrie, my bed and the beach...

This week has been the longest...even though it started with a bank holiday (is it election fatigue? Is it my work? Is it a mid-year slump?). I am somehow heavy-hearted, really trying to concentrate on my happy place, which is mentally somewhere between being in bed and walking at the beach. I have simply not spent enough time in my bed this week! I blame the re-runs of SATC that are showing until late into the night, even my husband is watching them with me now. After all this time, and all that's been said, and the shows vs the film(s), I still love Carrie. I so do, who doesn't?

The worries of the week have weighed a little heavy and I am one step forward, two steps back (even I am bored of teeth so I won't regale you with more details). Boo is full of woe, in trepidation for her school trip on Sunday. I need to get some PMA (my sister in law's favourite term: Positive Mental Attitude). But I must admit what I really want to do is crawl into bed for a few days...

Sleeping under beams...

 Layers of fresh white linen... 

This sentiment exactly...

 Pretty blue and cream...

Gazing out the window...

 Might still need bed socks even though it's May...
 

Yes, it really is...especially on Sunday mornings with my little family, when the come in like tousled bear cubs, smelling of sweet children sleep...

 A close second, the beach...oh, to be where there is so little to complicate matters...

I think I am a little out to sea...

Like mother, like daughter...

My daughter worries. As for me, I have to admit I am exactly the same. I have just learned to control it. People who know me well say I am not happy unless I have something to worry about. In fact it's true that after something big has passed that I have invested time worrying about, I do feel almost bereft afterwards, a little lost. Relieved yes, but (this sounds completely bizarre) a bit lonesome once my worry has left me.

Back to my daughter; a few years ago when she was about seven, my stepmother died suddenly of bowel cancer. This was the first time that my daughter had really ever entertained the prospect that people die. As in people we knew; people we loved. It sent her into a complete spin and for a few months that summer, I had a dose of proper parental worry. Not the kind where you think you know a way to fix it, but the kind where you really have no clue how to fix it. How do you give your seven year old their peace of mind back? Over time of course, she got better, she learned to deal with the prospect of loosing people and the rawness of that particular loss faded; for her atleast.

Now she and I, we rub along in the same way. Worrying day to day about some little things and some big. But this week we both have some bigger worries. She has a residential school trip where she will spend two nights away. I have finally (I think) got to the bottom of the tooth ache problem; it's my wisdom tooth and it has got to come out, err as in be forcibly removed from my mouth - ouch. Now, I am an adult, I understand that worrying about these two eventualities is futile. It won't make my bad tooth heal and it won't lessen the trauma of that first time away from home for an home-loving child. But still.

The thing to do is to think: this time next week it will all be done. So we shall be counting down til then...when we might be worry-free again...

House wifery...

A bit like touch-typing...I never realised how important house wifery was going to be in life. In some pseudo-feminist haze, I drifted along thinking I would never need to type like a secretary or keep house like I was from the 1950's. Now I find, email is everything and working for a multinational corporation, the faster you type, the better. Life moves pretty fast, you've got to be able to keep up. Likewise on the home front, the long lost skills of proper house wifery really do seem to be the answer to happiness!

As recently confessed, I only learned to cook in my 30s. But I have always liked things tidy at home. Pre-children this involved lazy Saturday mornings, pottering around, tidying our little flat or town house; really more styling than cleaning. Now with my messy brood, our house can go from spotless to bomb-has-hit in about ten minutes - trust me, I have timed it. I spend ridiculous amounts of time tidying up, organising, sorting, folding, piling, wiping; it goes on and on. I realise now that being a good house wife is the key to a harmonious life. There seems to be unrefutable evidence that if things are organised, life runs smoothly. List after list of 'to do's' get ticked off, the children have what they need, homework completed, meals planned, food is not wasted, admin gets done, bills paid and invites RSVP'ed. Husband drops in and out in the working week like a satellite and all is an oasis of calm.

I am all for being the retro Cath Kidston aproned Mummy, baking cupcakes in the Aga (actually we have a Rayburn; it's the 'poor man's' Aga!). Revelling in my cabbage rose adorned, kitchen-is-the-heart-of-the-home lifestyle. Come to my farmhouse and it looks just like that, maybe minus the cupcakes...

But finding that balance of house wifery with the reality of 2010 life is a challenge. One that I try day after day to rise to. And I still type using three fingers and a misguided thumb...ummm, time for a cuppa tea?

Country girl...

So we went for a walk by the river. The same river that I used to walk by as a child, just near the place where I grew up. You see, I have lived in this town since I was five years old. When I was about eleven, I guess, I would go on my bike (a boy's 'chopper' bike, it was black and could carry two with ease!) with my best friend and we would paddle in this river, spending hours catching newts and playing 'pooh sticks'. Now I take my children there and we do the same, some twenty five years later. It's lovely and poignant.

I am a country girl at heart. I do love cities, love visiting them, seeing the life and the buzz of it, but on the whole I am much happier walking rolling hills. Whenever I go to London I am stunned at how many people there are, how much activity; where are they all going? Day or night it's awash with people. I am always struck at the fact that this vibrant city-life is taking place all the time whilst I am snuggled up in my 'country mouse' dwelling, far from the madding crowd.

I wonder - should I participate more in it? Instead I live vicariously through lovely blogs like the delectable Emily's London Zest which points to coffee bars and florists and shops that I might never see.

I realise how times have changed since my childhood. I would disappear all day then, back in time for tea; roaming around in woods and by rivers. Never alone, but from my recollection not with adults. Now - would I allow my daughter to do that? Not in a million years! But for my children to have the chance to re-trace my footsteps is quite special and rare in this world. They just do so with me by their side...brimming with nostalgia all the way.

How pretty is she?

Things of beauty...

May Day Bank holiday, spent largely lolling around the house, hosting visitors who punctuated the day. Back to work tomorrow after last week's absence; back to reality. There is so much going on at the moment, it's hard to keep perspective...

Country Living loveliness...bunting on May Day.

I have a thing about milk glass...so I think this picture is just dreamy...

Sad to say I am growing out the Zooey Deschanel fringe...it's just not me (anymore). But every time I see a picture like this I think 'I likey'...must work on divorcing the reality of my hairdo with that of a beautiful model...

It's children's birthday season in our house...getting ready for the annual party planning...

'The Woman in Blue' by Andre Derain. This painting is in Copenhagen's State Museum for Art...

Pretty pink peonies...

At the moment the most beautiful thing for me will be to NOT HAVE TOOTHACHE anymore. Love Julia Roberts in this shot - her teeth look super-duper healthy. I bet she doesn't get toothache...I will be back to the dentist this week.

Boodles Raindance ring...

So, this is so typical me: We went to a wedding a few months ago and there was someone there (who I didn't know that well) wearing this grey dress. I took one look at it, loved it, but did not ask her where it was from but assumed it was a designer number, probably cost a fortune, as she was that kind of girl. Months passed, I decided that I had to find out who it was by, eventually asked, to find it was from French Connection. Not that I have anything against French Connection but don't really shop there as it's...how to say...kinda young for me. So after all that, I found it online (God bless the internet) and have one winging its way to me now...

After she's gone...

You know how you have some friendships where you stay friends, despite distance or life changes or differing opinions? And no matter how long its been since you saw each other, you just slip back in the comfortableness of friendship when you catch up? And then there are those other friendships where, even though at one time in your life you were as close as can be, you then drifted and instead when you see each other there is that awkwardness. Where you both realise that whatever it was that made you friends has now passed?

I had a friendship with someone years back, and now I don't see her anymore. Even though she lives ridiculously locally and our kids are the same ages. But over time, something just went wrong with us. Looking back, I am amazed that we were ever that close. She was one of those friends who, in the nicest possible way, was like a wolf in sheep's clothing. There was alot of sweetness and light but deep down, she disapproved of me and what I was about and so every now and then these barbs would come out. When you have friends who you can grow with, there can be acknowledgement that you are different people, but that's OK as there is respect for that difference. But disapproval is a more complex thing.

With her there was this weightiness associated with the 'pleasantries' of friendship that I reserve for acquaintances instead of good friends. By this I mean for example, correspondence, thank you notes, thank you notes for thank you notes; that spiralling etiquette of women, where forgetting a coffee morning, or a belated birthday wish for one of the children or not being quick enough to respond to an email becomes more defining than the friendship itself. She used to make me feel like a bad person. When really I was just a naive young working mother, struggling to find my new place in life.

So in the end, we gradually extracted ourselves from knowing each other well. Over time we were less obliged to continue.

I now surround myself with friends who make me feel good about myself and who don't fret if I miss a date in calendar... and that's just so much better. Really I have learned, life's too short for anything else... :-)

Families...

If you want children...I always think your family will shape up how its meant to; it's fate. By this I mean whether you have boys or girls, summer babies or winter babies, close together or years apart, an only child, no children and much-loved dogs or cats. Every family has its own story; some families come effortlessly, others after painful waiting and enormous effort. When I see families with say, three or four little girls, I do wonder how lovely that must be, all frothy, girly pink, ballet bags, ribbons and long hair.

Then I see families with all boys and its outdoorsy, muddy, all sport kit and scuffed walls and that happy 'boys will be be boys' feeling.

I see families with lots of children - like four or five. To me the prospect of looking after four children is, honestly, frightening. I simply can't imagine it; I think in the way that before you have kids, you can't quite imagine what life would be like with kids. I have huge admiration for big families and an envy. To have brothers and sisters, older and younger (I have one older brother). I can see how wonderful it must be to grow up with lots of siblings, all looking out for each other (and jostling for attention).

For our little family, we have one of each. A boy and a girl; so its neither all pink nor all blue. Brother and sister. We are out of the baby stage now and can see what life looks like on the other side. I do feel at peace now.

For those who struggle to fall pregnant, I always think it's the hardest part. When you long for a baby, time is the enemy - every month that passes is an endurance, like one big missed opportunity, but on repeat. Time stretches out and I sometimes wish I could say to those prospective mothers - it's OK, this is how fate will have it for you. Your family will shape up in the way its meant to and if that means a long wait for your first, so be it. Or a big age-gap with your second, so be it. Just one child or three. And for some maybe a fourth...

I know though that in reality these words don't mean much...as nothing can take away that ache. But for friends who go through this, I do so wish the ache would go away and fate would play its part...