Silent Sunday 29/09/13

A Letter to Amy

My dearest darlingest ... 

To my wonderful Amy.

You are about to leave us for University life. You're going away. Yes, only 50 miles, it could have been further. I am grateful for that. I really am.

You have no idea how much I love and admire you, young lady, you really don't.

You were due to be born on your dad's 30th birthday but there was no way you were ever going to share the limelight, and you rocked up 4 days later, on a sunny October Sunday. You were the first baby the student midwife had ever delivered solo and you were so pretty she cried.

I didn't know for sure I was having a girl - they didn't tell you the gender in Redbridge back in those days- but at the same time, I knew I was having a girl. The walls of your room remained the pink they were when we moved in and I only had one name for my unborn baby - there was no doubt to me that you were female: Amy (after Amy from Little Women - much as I admired Jo's stoicism, it was Amy, in my favourite childhood novel first read aged 9 and beloved ever since and to this day, who was the strongest, most successful March girl...I wanted you to have those traits ... you did ... you do).

You went to Italy, to Spain, all over the place with us, our bella bambina! oh the adventures we had, the fun in St Marks Square, the chicken pox in the Balearics, but oh, how everyone loved you. You have climbed a volcano and  swam in Oceans with me,  you even phoned me once from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

"What can you see?" I asked.

"Everything," you said.

Which is what I want for you.

You were always a strong, intelligent personality. I have too many tales to tell to praise you. You absorbed information, the alphabet, colours, numbers. But you were a little reticent at Reception stage and your horribly inexperienced teacher didn't recognise your talents. She didn't last long at that school. By Year 2 you achieved Level 4 Literacy SATS. You have always been an amazing writer. Every Christmas I ensure I buy you a page -a - day diary and you write every day and have done so for at least 5 or 6 years now maybe and probably more. 

You performed on stage for the first time aged five. I gave you a little bouquet; I will never forget your face when you saw those flowers. Are those for me ? 

When it came to Secondary School I instinctively knew you needed to stretch your wings , stretch yourself; I wasn't wrong. Eleven years old and you got a train and got yourself to school miles away. And then you grew, musically. Personally. Made lifelong new friends, and no it wasn't at all easy but my goodness, you were amazing. 

Then you needed an operation on your spine. RNOH Stanmore. A six hour scoliosis and kyphosis op. A term off school as a result. Again, you were the better person, even at the age of 14, on morphine, in pain; you taught me how to be be strong. 

Fast forward, how many people have been a leading lady in a musical ? Especially a musical they love ? You have. How proud am I ? I would give anything to watch you as Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors one more time.

You are an amazing young woman. So beautiful and so strong and witty and ...and ...

I will miss you very much. I love you more than you know.

I hope you have a wonderful time and just like your first day at nursery school, I know that when we drop you off next Sunday, that you won't look back x 

All my love

Moz 

Life Audit

It's the start of a new school year this week. Once the training days (I will be re-educated in CPR and recovery positions by this time tomorrow) are over , the kids will be back and I will have if all goes to plan, a new role as a TA, which I've been tentatively excited about.

I read a couple of blog posts today , initially the lovely
http://plasticrosaries.com/life-audit-september  

but also her inspiration-
http://www.brocantehome.net/life-audit/

A Life Audit - what a brilliant idea.
So here's mine for September 2013. 

TODAY I AM...
...quite frankly in a bit of a tiz. It's back to work tomorrow after just short of 6 weeks off school (I do not get paid for this time as just a lowly TA by the way!).
I am going to miss my time off. The weather's been on the whole, just lovely, and my early morning meetings with 'Frasier' and coffee and a wander to the shop before it gets busy, and just well, having to time to just be on top of the washing and ironing pile for once - it's the freedom I'll miss.
I'm not sure I won't feel like I am having some sort of out of body experience tomorrow when I actually have to concentrate on anything other than what to read on my Kindle in the garden ... 

FEELING...

...trepidatious (is that even a word? ) I have this tendency to want to just be home, safe, I've always been that way, I am amazed I made it through Uni to a job to a husband and family to be quite honest ! The idea of going to work not just tomorrow, but the day after that and the day after that until late October without a day off (the weekends are catch up time, not time off!)
At the same time I should be starting a new TA role this term; I don't yet have my timetable but I have been excited at the prospect; I hope things haven't changed in my absence.

I am also feeling nervous and yet cautiously hopeful. We are hoping to re-jig our finances and  it is FINGERS CROSSED (I can't say that loudly enough) set to happen on 30th September. One more month of stressing and then...well...things should be better.

READING......looking at a first draft by my amazingly talented friend Ian Ayris 
http://www.ianayris.com/

Be warned his stuff isn't politely phrased but he's an amazing writer who has had me in tears (in a good way !) ; highly recommended. And no, he's not paying me ...

While in Tenerife I caught up with an old friend who is thinking of making the  Santiago di Compostela pilgrimage next year and in support I am ..well... reading Tim Moore  

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Spanish-Steps-ebook/dp/B003XVYF0O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1378126500&sr=8-1&keywords=spanish+steps

He's my favourite travel writer by, well...miles.

EATING...

...apple crumble. Mum in law brought some cooking apples over and although I am a rubbish dessert cook, I have to say my crumble wasn't too shabby.

While we were away we had many lovely meals out (we chose self catering as although we knew we probably couldn't afford it - and we couldn't!  - we love eating out, and we only ever do that on holiday). A highlight was a lunch at a beachside restaurant  - gorgeous grilled sardines with Canarian potatoes and fabulous sauces. I can't cook that one to my disappointment... but one meal we had was a pork Mexicana. I have managed to replicate that one successfully at less than £5 for four people. Yay me, eh ?

PLANNING ... 

...this is something that teachers do for lessons. I daren't plan ahead, not further than my next group of kids, or payday. Maybe if we get ourselves straight I can do that more?

The nearest I can come to planning is thinking about Girl's departure to Uni on 29 September ...

...but I can't. Not yet.

DREAMING OF...

...a time when money isn't an Issue. And I can treat my family as much as I want. This is on-going.

COVETING & WISHING & DREAMING ... 

...see above.

WORKING ON ... 

...at home - a few cross stitch projects, and still aiming to not be scared of that sewing machine !!!
At work -  I am compiling a dyslexia/phonic handbook with links to a particular piece of software, for my colleagues. This makes me happy.

GRATEFUL FOR ...

...all of the above. My family. And yes, they deserve more from me. But I am trying really, really hard, my lovelies.

Gosh this audit was a good idea !

TOMORROW I WILL BE ... 

Positive. No, really. I will be all Carole King - look up 'Beautiful' - I don't think there's an original version on YouTube but the Tapestry LP means a lot to me.

ON MY TO DO LIST THIS MONTH! 
Getting to payday without going broke!
Supporting Girl as she leaves home for University
Getting a grip back at work without being completely useless

Thanks for reading this far !

Almost Silent Sunday

June 2000

September 2013

Sun, Sea and Stevie

It's late at night and the sky is ink black dark. The Atlantic waves are still crashing onto the volcanic rocks and sands. The air is humid, salty. I can hear Stevie Wonder's  I Wish being played brilliantly live by a trio of young musicians in the adjacent bar to this one. I have a full, cold glass of Cava. My boys are with me. I listen to the ocean and to the music (serendipitously , one of my very favourite tracks) and I wish that this moment would never, ever end. A tear rolls down my cheek. I have to go back to reality tomorrow.

We are on holiday in Tenerife. 


It's a holiday we shouldn't really have booked, as money is tight, but when an unexpectedly high share-save payment matured R said, "Look, we need something to look forward to, it could be our last holiday all together-" (daughter turning 18) "-I can get a free child place for Boy for the last time, let's just do it ! "

So we did.

I am a worrier (you may have noticed). Worrying was my dark cloud over my holiday and for that I am supremely sorry, for my family more than for myself.

But now I have the perspective of home I can feel how happy I really was, under the Canarian sky of almost perfect unbroken azure blue.



The approach to the airport was let's say, a tad scary. We were about to land when - UP! - the pilot aborted the landing and round we went again, to much consternation. Apparently a strong crosswind caught the wing and we weren't guaranteed a safe landing, so we had to try again. So that was nice. 

Anyway- landing safely, by mid afternoon - we're in our apartments - sleek and well furnished. I approve. Our holiday begins. The early mornings ... waking up to look out on a clear sky, and heading off to the little hotel supermarket to buy freshly baked croissants, eaten with fresh coffee and jam. Then down to the pool, quiet and still and the water cold but not too cold to swim in, before all the other holidaymakers emerge.
I rediscovered the joy of the cryptic crossword; I never read a newspaper ordinarily but I suddenly recalled all those hints Dad used to to tell me about when I was little and I used to look at his crossword. I didn't complete one but I will certainly try to do cryptic crosswords again.

And the clarity of thought one gets when almost meditating laying on a sun bed. There is time for thinking, wondering, setting one's head in order  when on holiday. Dragonflies swoop and children play and then it's beer o'clock from the Pool Bar.

And every afternoon at around 4:30. the swifts began to fly, swarms of them; there must have been insects up there, as they seemed to feed on the wing. They never settle, never perch; and I think, I'm like a swift, never really still ;only I can't fly away.

And I swim. I swim a lot. I love the water. And this is in a pool that is outdoors. I can just jump into an outdoor pool and not shiver my bits off.
The upper pool (there are two) is quieter and has a line of rocks that mark a fountain on the other side , when I am swimming in it all I can see are the rocks and the bluest of skies beyond. I float on my back and see how long I can keep my feet above the water. I stay in 'til my fingers start to prune.

At the beach the flag is yellow, which at first I don't think means much; and then I get into the Ocean and ... wooosh. I am knocked from my feet by an Atlantic roller.
Emboldened I wade further into the water; it is waist high (I am not tall) and I feel confident. I see the wave rolling in and think I am ready. I time it - just- as the swell hits and I leap into it and it carries me towards the shore and I am deposited on the sand, bumping along on my behind in a very un-lady like, fill-the-bikini-with-sand fashion.

I go back , and back , and back. More than once I misjudge the swell and on one occasion am unceremoniously dumped under the water; I think I am drowning (I'm not). I have so much sea water in my nasal passage it doesnt stop dripping for hours. And I go back again, and again.
"You're like a little girl out there," says R, watching me with affectionate amusement.

Then there's the evening walks, down to the restaurants all touting for business in the most friendly of fashions. Our favourite was here -
http://eatintenerife.com/martini-restaurante/

There seems to be a vogue for sandcastles now out there ... there were many to see , this is my favourite-

Let's not forget , Tenerife is a volcanic island. Mount Teide is twelve thousand feet about sea level and is active. Up near the summit one can feel the heat through the ground, smell the sulphur. This is how it looks near summit, after dark - 

I am fortunate enough to have a lovely friend who knew me back in my dorky school days, who now lives in Los Cristianos, and we met up, and set the world as we know it to rights over a few Cosmopolitans. Thank you, Jean.

While out there we celebrated our  twentieth wedding anniversary. We had dinner on the beach front , watching the sun set (it sets quickly that far south!) and I was with the people who mean the most to me -

Dear Tenerife; thank you. I Know your landscape may not appeal to everyone - 

but I love it.

I don't know when I'll be back ; but I will back.

In the meantime my head is in a better place than it was when we left just 12 days ago. I can see the chaos I left at home and am ready now to tackle it, to clarify home as well as mind.

Thank you, Tenerife.  

 

The Kindness of Strangers

I am back in the Orthodontic Appointment at Whipps Cross Hospital cycle.

We have been free of hospital appointments for daughter for a long time, both orthodontic and orthopaedic, but now, we're back in the system for Son (fourteen and a bit) . He needs braces, no two ways about it.

There is an element of reduced stress in that it's not entirely new to me at least (although I know Son is uncharacteristically concerned about it all) .

We were seen promptly by a lovely young orthodontist, taken good care of, casts taken, and then sent down to Junction 8 for dental X rays.
We sat there for a while, getting bored , and just as Son was about to switch his 3DS on- as he predicted, he was called for his X ray, so I waved him off on his own ...

Anyway I waited with his next appointment details on an A4 bit of paper in one hand and beta reading a friend's prospective novel on my Kindle in the other.

As I sat there an elderly lady came in, sat on the far side of the pink sofa, and then three women - a nan, a mum & a daughter ( who as it happened had Downs Syndrome) so I thought, ooh , they should sit together so I moved one seat along to the furthest seat on the edge of the sofas.
We sat there for a few minutes in silence then I realised my A4 Next Appointment bit of paper had disappeared suddenly between my seat and the wall !

Son is away having his X-Ray on his teeth at this point. I get on my knees and I'm peering at the tiny gap tp try and see where the paper is. I can just about see it. I try to fish it out with my arm, but can't.

Nana Patient offers her daughter's assistance. "She 's got skinny arms, she'll get it ! "
Her arms weren't much if anything smaller than mine so she doesn't retrieve it.

"Here!" says older lady in the corner. "Try to get it out with this pen - it belongs to them!"

It didn't work.

I get a 2010 copy of Country Life which is the only magazine there, and poke around with that and yes!!! I retrieve something.

"She's GOT IT!" says Mum, all excitedly!
"No," I announce, "But I do have someone's lost orthodontic advice leaflet..."
There is disappointment.

"USE YOUR SANDAL!" says elderly lady in pink.
"But then I might lose it as well and I'll only have one shoe..." I say, and the waiting room , full of strangers , nod and agree.

So then Son returns and is given his dental X-rays and it is time for us to be sent on our way back to the orthodontic department.

The Nana says to my son - and we don't know each other, never spoken til 30 minutes before... 

"Eh Tom- I wouldn't trust those X rays with your Mum , she might lose them down the side of a sofa!"

We all fell about-strangers the lot of of us - and I passed the document wallet to Son to much merriment.

And so passed what would have otherwise been a very dull minutes in a waiting room.
People are lovely, people are funny, strangers are fab, I Like to think that tonight a lady has gone home and told a story of how a nutty mum lost her hospital form and how everyone tried to help her retrieve it.

All these little things X

Up and Down

Now you see there are days - sometimes many, many days in row - that I feel so very low I can't see the wood for the trees.

Some of you may know that historically I have suffered from depression, not treated medically until after my son was born but I believe that it started when I was 17.

The thing about depression is that people even in this enlightened day and age, think it's about just being a bit unhappy. "It's Monday - I'm so depressed!" for example. What really gets me is people who think that having depression is a choice .

Choose to be happy.
Choose to smile.
Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone.
Choose to be positive.
You might not have shoes but there's someone out there with no feet.

Yes, all true.

But.

But.

Do you wear glasses ? Are you say, diabetic ? Do you get sea sickness ?

What if I told you you could positively think your way out of your short sightedness ? Or the non functioning of your pancrveas, or your inner ear messing you about ?

You can't do it. 
I can't either.

I stopped taking the Citalopram some time ago because I wanted to fight this on my own and to be honest, I think I manage pretty well on the whole, given the tightness of money and the stress of having teenage children. I don't tell myself Well Done enough I reckon (no-one else will !) .

Today has been a Good Day. I think that warm sunshine always helps that process. I have made paper plate lion heads in Breakfast Club ; got overly enthusiastic about Prime numbers with my maths group (yes, 73 IS the best number, thank you Dr Sheldon Cooper ! the kids now think I am actually a lunatic) ; heard all about their trip to the local adventure centre (sleepwalking, nudity, incontinence and laser tag - all human life apparently was there !) . In between all the other daily tasks - yes - the ironing is up to date, and the pork chops are looking good for dinner when Mister Champers eventually turns up (the Man With No Mobile has gone to the dentist for an emergency appointment. Oh. Pork chops maybe not such a good dinner choice ...)

Yes; today has been a Good Day. And although it is true that smiling and just plain being nice to people, and genuinely interested in them , is a good way to make yourself feel good, some days, if I'm grey of face and down turned of mouth, it's because I am silently crying. (Sometimes I am actually crying ...sorry!)

But.

Today has been a Good Day.