A cross between fabulous and foreboding

The first day of the school holidays. It isn't actually technically school holidays yet but as G finishes his nursery school week on Thursdays, it is for us.

It started beautifully with a lie in. A lie in! I woke up at 7.20. Feeling lovely and rested and cosy and snoozy. I got up a few minutes later (because a plumber was coming sometime this morning...) and found E and G both mostly awake but pretty chilled. We played upstairs for nearly an hour before pottering down (them still in PJs, me not cos of the whole plumber thing) and having a very slapdash but happy breakfast. We pottered and played and there was a bit of TV. The plumber came and went. We were still very much winning for the day.

We set up the pop up tent in the garden and played jungle explorers. Fundamentally still winning but the edge was wearing thin. I was hot. They were hot. They wanted to be In My Face, On My Knee, All The Time. And G was getting less and less pleasant to be around. I snapped. Then I got it together and we had a nice twenty minutes. Then I snapped. Then I got it together and we had a nice twenty minutes. And so it went on all day. We had some glorious times (jungle explorers featuring heavily as well as nice story times and even finger painting). We had some really grim times. E doesn't do what she is told. Ever. A lot of the time this is ok as fundamentally she is well behaved and doesn't need to be told "no" too often but when she is naughty, nothing makes her stop other than physically removing her from the situation. G does do what he is told on the naughty/dangerous front, but not on the "required for life" front like pulling up his trousers after going to the loo without being asked fifteen times to do it. And so it wears me down.

At last we made it to bedtime. I was determined to end the day on a good note so went up to do bath time instead of sending A. It was going ok until it was time for G to get into his pyjamas at which point the following conversation occurred:

Me: G, can you please put your jammies on while I make your bed.
G: I want to make my bed.
Me: ok, you put your jammies on while I do the sheet, you can help with the pillow and duvet.
G: no, I want to do the sheet (throwing jammies on the floor and flailing dramatically on the bed)
Me: put you PJs on now.
G: (picks up E's hair clip which was on his bed)
Me: (snapping a little) give me that
G: (throws it at me, catching the side of my face)

And so to the naughty step for the last few minutes before bedtime. But it feels like one of those moments that might have saved our summer. I had a few minutes to cool off while getting his sheet on, then we had a lengthy chat about what the problem was and he got to say his piece too (mainly that he thought he was helping by throwing the hair clip at me...) and we finished as friends. Here is hoping it stays that way!

What do you want to know?

It's been a while, hasn't it?

I shall attempt to catch you up on all the different areas you may or may not want to know about...

First up, theme month. Central American and Caribbean month was a total success. We took every possible opportunity to celebrate the cuisine of some fascinating nations. It just happens that "every possible opportunity" in June equates to one possible opportunity...
Now we are in July and revelling in the delights of Eating Outdoors Month. So far, so simple. We have had one day where no meal was consumed outdoors (G was too poorly to cope) but several days when more than one meal was eaten outdoors. We agreed in advance that the challenge would be to eat outdoors when we didn't want to or in places that didn't scream alfresco dining... But here we are, half way through and it has been a piece of cake, a walk in the park...a very well timed heat wave indeed! We did have one picnic while on holiday when it threatened to drizzle and we were on constant guard against aggressive geese so that might earn us points. (Oh and the references to points? A and my lovely cousin-in-law came up with a system whereby I get points for each success in a theme and can then cash them in...I went off the idea after, under suggested tariffs it would take until a few years into retirement to earn a trip to Australia...I would like to visit my brother again before he turns seventy...)

Next up, everything else. I think the main reason for my silence has been the less than perfect health I have experienced during the last few weeks of May and first few weeks of June particularly. Nothing AWFUL but a few old pals rearing their ugly heads and leaving me in a spin wondering which one is the chicken and which is the egg... Do I have more IBS symptoms and need to control my diet more because I am anxious? Am I anxious because the endometriosis symptoms are flaring up? Are the endometriosis symptoms causing or following the IBS symptoms? And so on, and so forth. I saw the GP this morning and have no further answers to these questions, nor have I gained a GP that I really warmed to and feel understands where I am coming from (which would have just been a nice bonus). The anxiety is currently...fine. Totally liveable with. The IBS is currently...fine. Mostly liveable with. The endometriosis is currently...weird. Largely liveable with, occasionally totally flooring. Don't know what the next step is on any of these. Physical side seems to be a big game of wait and see for a few months more. Mental side is fundamentally up to me to push for counselling or CBT or whatever.

I think that is enough for one post, don't you?

In case you were curious...

Presentation month was a total flop. Just too vague and, for me, not something I am interested enough in, at least not at the moment.

So June? June is Central American and Caribbean month. I haven't really made a start on this but have been told I get points for having had some Caribbean people at the table who liked the food I made. But it wasn't Caribbean food. Or Central American. Hoping to make a proper start for date night tomorrow... We shall see...

Talking about the good times

Something that doesn't come naturally to me is blowing my own trumpet. A has always commented on job applications or similar that I just don't sell myself. I write the facts as simply and unobtrusively as possible, which isn't always ideal. (Not that he was ever advocating barefaced lying on CVs, just pointing out the positives rather more than I tended to.)

One of the things I have found hardest since becoming a parent is how to enjoy the good times, and talk about them with friends, without them becoming "aren't I the best parent ever and don't I have the most amazing kids on the planet?" sessions which don't sit well with me or the poor person listening to them. So I mostly try not to talk about the good times. Or to pick extremely innocuous good times. I get it wrong sometimes and have those moments of extreme discomfort when I realise the thing that I take most for granted about my kids (typically related to language development or eating habits as those have been (in the past - don't get my started on the fussy three year old currently living under my roof) the easiest and most fun part of parenting round here) are exactly the things that the person I am talking to beats themselves up over day after day and sees no end in sight to their perceived failure... But not talking about the good things isn't very good for me, or for any of us.

As I have mentioned, I now have a sort of diary where I write the best thing G did and the best thing E did every day. It is definitely a good thing and already I have pages and pages of little notes to look back on (though they don't always make sense a few weeks down the line!) but I think I (we?) need more than that. I think we need to have permission to meet up and not complain about things (though heaven knows we need to keep the permission to complain firmly in place to!). I need to say, without worrying about what it might seem like, that actually, I have had a great few days with my kids. They have driven me crazy once or twice but only within the acceptable spectrum. They have done funny things, sweet things, kind things. They have learnt things, tried things, seen new things. They have, in short, been my absolute most favourite people on the planet (sometimes there is still room in there for A!).

There. I've said it.

Losing Things

And no, I'm not talking about keys. Or shoes. Or children...

Something A and I have been realising recently is what goes missing when things like anxiety or Sadness come to play in your house. There are the fairly obvious ones like "enjoyment" or "get up and go" but the one we have come to notice the most in the past few weeks is creativity.

I have barely picked up any knitting or crochet in about six months. Six months of cold weather at that (having a six month break from cuddling wool during a long hot summer (let me dream) is less surprising).

I don't constantly have something or other ticking away in my mind that I want to be writing, be it blog post, novel, poem, prayer, sermon...whatever.

I don't have the random moments of lunacy where I believe that overnight I have developed incredible artistic skills and can suddenly draw/paint/create beautiful things with ease and serenity.

I have been baking but only as a way of getting the maximum amount of chocolate into my system as possible...

Cooking has been similarly (mostly) just about getting fed.

I am having little teeny tiny wishes with some of these areas now and that is likely to be what has made us notice how lacking they have been. I don't think it is a change I can really force myself but I will be keeping my eyes open for any signs of life.

I'm A Myth

Sorry for the absence, I have tried to write on a number of occasions but never made it past a few sentences for one reason or another. Let's see if this time is any different...

Something I have come to realise ever more strongly over the past few months is that I need to stop believing in "Me". Not as in I need to have no self belief but as in I need to stop thinking things like "I wish I could be myself again" or "the real me would love to do that but at the moment I just can't do it..."

I don't exist, not the Me that I keep thinking I want to return to. When I am honest, I have to admit several things. First, anxiety has been with me in one shape or another for a long, long time now. Not always, but a lot. For example, the summer when I was fourteen, I stopped sleeping. I couldn't sleep until it got light, so around 4am. It was the school holidays so it didn't really matter, I could lie in, and anyway, I was 14 so I could do with quite a small amount of sleep if needed, so it went largely unnoticed by me or anyone else. When I was around 17, I had a spell of stress related headaches that were swept away again. And so it goes on, little pockets, sometimes blamed on something else, sometimes ignored, sometimes acknowledged.

Categorically, the carefree Me who didn't worry about anything, was always free to have fun and only considered consequences as they affected others Does Not Exist. (And probably never, ever did.) Trying to get back to this fictional person (there is more to her than just not worrying, some of it did exist, some never did, you get the idea) is not helpful. It is an unnecessary pressure that is unproductive and down right stupid, too. For a start, I learnt quite some years ago that one of the many benefits of the less nice (!) things we go through in life is the ability to understand others in a similar position. Shortly after one of my early bouts of anxiety I met someone who was struggling with self harm, caused by anxiety and a lack of self worth. Our end points were different but our starting points were similar and so I "got" her more than I might otherwise have done.

I am aware that although I would have chosen a different teacher than anxiety, it has had some good effects. I have considered everything I spend my time on and I have slowed down. I give away time less lightly and so what I do give is more valuable. I spend a lot of time lying on the sofa with my kids climbing all over me (we call it snot and dribble...I won't say any more...) because when it comes down to it, that is what they love to do. They love other things too, but they love it when I have the time to be so unbusy with them that we can have a nice long snot and dribble session.

I can't be my teenage or early twenties self again. Life is different, I am different, and rose tinted glasses just get silly after a while. The more I enjoy being me as I am, the less I try to chase after this particular myth.

No Supermaket Month...

I'll get straight to the point. Had our aim of No Supermarket Month been to actually not set foot in anything related to a supermarket for the whole month, it would have been an epic fail. Even with our rather relaxed "we'll get milk from our local Sainsbury's, and not be too worried if we have to grab a few other things a few times in the month" version of "no" supermarkets, it was still a bit of a fail, technically speaking.

I went to our local Sainsbury's or Co-op (where do they fall on the supermarket spectrum anyway?) quite a few times. On one particular day, I even bought  fruit and veg and bread. Almost all the fails were caused by one bout of ill health or another. Sometimes we needed easy food, sometimes we needed fast shopping before keeling over and at one point a large amount of experimenting with a certain type of product that I had recently become allergic to. So, yes, under the title, big fail.

But.

I did not drive to the supermarket at all. I did not do a mega shop at all. And I did not buy any supermarket meat or fish and very little supermarket fruit and veg.

My conclusions on the month go a like this:

• There things that is simply not worth trying to buy outside the supermarket in this day and age. You pay more for less good quality products. 
• Meat, we could really taste the difference. Our local butcher's sausages are amazing. I am sure there will be times when I grab a pack of mince from Sainsbury's for convenience but we are trying to build a regular trip to the butcher into our routine. It seems worth it.
• We sampled eggs from a range of local sources. There is a farm that we pass once a week that sells its own eggs. The butcher sells eggs. The greengrocer sells eggs. We couldn't taste the difference really. But they were all cheaper and all more local than the supermarkets so we'll be sticking with them whenever possible.
• Fruit and veg is a complex one. Our greengrocer has pretty much everything we want. It balances out at close to the cost of the supermarket, with some thing significantly cheaper and some things more expensive. The challenge thrown down by using a greengrocer is to shop in season more as then it will be a cheaper method. The butcher actually helps with this as they provide regular seasonal recipes! The one main exception to trying to use the greengrocer will be bananas. They are more expensive at the greengrocer by a significant margin and they are not fairly traded. It seems bizarre to pay more for not fairly traded goods. So they will be coming from Sainsbury's. 

So, on the face of it a fail, but rather like our "giving up TV for lent except once a week, except the Six Nations and except cbeebies", we have actually managed to not use the supermarket in a way that we can keep up. The butcher is in, the greengrocer is in, the poncy deli in the village...is mainly out! (They clearly do not like noisy children in their shop...I clearly, therefore, will not be spending much time or money with them!)

May? Presentation Month. Lord, help us!