wife of one. mom of two. regularly emitting all manner of crap.
…and it’s just as well he still does, eh?
You know, it’s amazing what you can do with some flowers, a camera and an empty bath. (Don’t forget to clickem to biggem.)
I’m not even that big on flowers, but I’ve kept these orchids going for FOUR YEARS. Hah.
Straight from camera. Fuck yeah.
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My day, like many others in the past, started off with a stupid argument with my husband. We are so different yet in some ways quite the same. Needless to say, we both have a horrible stubborn streak.
And I let my day be ruined as I sank into a rut and once again began wondering how to recapture the emotions and rhythm of how our lives used to be. How our lives used to be back when we used to have time, patience and energy for each other. Back when our lives were more of a “one” than our lives now. Now, where we can go days without any deep conversations other than the day to day chit chat.
And I thought about the argument which revolved around my youngest daughter who was throwing a tantrum. It wasn’t so much her as the fact that each of our parenting views is quite a bit different. As the youngest, she wraps her father around her little finger and he loves it every minute.
And then as I was reflecting upon this morning, the scene played through my mind. The look I got, the words said, the tension in the air. And the reason for my pain today and probably a good amount of my pain in the last few months, became clear to me.
I realized that while I know I am important to quite a bit of people, there is not a single person in this world that I was the MOST important person for.
Not my parents, not my siblings and not even my kids. The kids who aren’t teens prefer their father, the kids who are teens are teens and have a different most important person depending on which way the wind blows.
And I realized that while I know my husband loves me, our kids come first.
And that realization stung and made me cry for the umpteenth time today.
And as I am sitting here and writing this, I wonder whether this was the way it was meant to be for me. Am I meant to be the most important person to myself? Am I meant to fix this? Am I meant to do things different in my life?
And my heart is breaking, and there is a lump in my throat and the tears are streaming down my cheeks. Because being important to a lot of people can’t make up for being the most important person for even just one person.
How am I going to carry on?
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…well, you pack him in the pushchair and take him out for a walk, innit?
Far too bloody sunny to be stuck inside, even though he’d spent the previous day barfing. (click them to big them.)
I usually suck at photographing flowers. But I couldn’t help myself when I saw these on the walk.
And yeah, the berries remind me of Christmas. Eeeeeeek! (Yes I said that C word.)
Omg CONKERS! I bloody love conkers. I don’t even do anything with them, I just love the way they look and feel. I remember when I was really really ill, I used to always have a conker in my pocket and rub it when I got agitated, kind of like a stress ball or something. It had a flat side and was a really unusual shape, which fitted my thumb perfectly. I think it might even still be in the loft…
Evidently, Isaac likes conkers too…
So. Many. Colours.
Even the stuff that seems a little mundane can take on a different view.
Isaac had 2 days off school. He’d thrown up in school on Monday, then again when we got home. When I took him for the walk on Tuesday, he was getting back to being his usual shouty self. Got to confess though, I was bloody thankful he didn’t fight sleep when it came.
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~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~
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I knew perfectly well that Noah would be excellently supported academically when we put him in to private school. We want the absolute best we can get for him. I hated that I had to absolutely bust my ass to get anywhere with little to no support from the school; I also hated the fact that rules in my school seemed to have become rather lax. Added to having worked in numerous schools as a peripatetic teacher and whilst working for my PGCE, my eyes were very much opened to systems of education.
Ok, calm the fuck down, I’m not slating every teacher ever to have worked in public/state/whatever-the-fuck-it-is-these-days schools, but I am saying the ones I saw? Left me very, very cold and twitchy.
So yeah, we’re just trying to give our boys the absolute best education we can.
However. I ask the schools for support, help and understanding. Of course! And we get that, we get that a lot.
What I DON’T ask for, is pushy learning and target high-fiving. Especially not for a 3 year old.
Noah came home this week with a “Sounds and Key-words” case; in it were 3 tiny cards with the letters s, t and a, and a “diary” for us (parents) to fill in when he’s done some reading. I’m also reliably informed by D that there’s a “pack” which I need to read through, and also a CD to listen to.
I’ll just say it again – he’s 3 years old.
Now, OBVIOUSLY I want to help and encourage Noah as best as I possibly can. He has bedtime stories every night, where he watches and listens completely engrossed. He then has a book in his bed to fall asleep with, and will flick through it when he awakens in the morning. He has a mini library in his room, as does Isaac, and they share another bookcase rammed with books in our lounge. If I’m honest? Between them? It’s possible they have more books than D and I put together.
I worked through the letters with Noah for about 2 minutes. It was all I dared to do. About 30 minutes later, I did it again, for 2 minutes (he knew ssssss, so we incorporated “apple” and “tiger” for his other letters). This is how it ended.
Noah: Mommy, you’ve given me too much words because my head is aching.
MBM: Ok, we’ll stop now.
Nuff said.
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