Morning chats in bed

Our favourite time in the morning is when the kids come into our bed for a chat and cuddle before breakfast. 

Somehow, the topic of inheritance cropped up after Dan read a news article about empty homes. He joked:

"Mummy and I have it in our will that all our money will go to our favourite child."

Without hesitation, Jude (10) piped up: 

Yay!

We all roared with laughter!

Only child syndrome and a little bit of gushing

I'm an only child. Fourth generation in fact. I didn't wish to continue the line of only children in our family. I always felt that if I could have more than one, I would like that very much.

Being an only child has its great advantages and I have loved many aspects that are associated with having my own space, growing up and having my family to myself. But as I grow older, I find being an only child can become one large and lonely place at times. 

It's interesting how my Mum, my Grandad and myself have different views and experiences - I observe my husband interacting with his family, my own children interacting with each other and I often crave that bond. Dear friends help to fill in the gap and my husband's family are fantastic too, they took me in as their own quite quickly. 

At moments like this though, the time when cancer corrodes my family's life as we know it, I could do with someone close to share concerns and plans with. That familial bond. My cousins have been lovely, sad part is that some have experienced similar already. One cousin in particular expressed something I will never forget - Cousins are a sibling from another parent - she understands my worries and feelings, though she may not realize how much that resonates with me and I love her even more for being available and caring enough to listen and talk.

I almost lost my Mum two weeks ago. She had two seizures, was rushed to hospital by ambulance and entered the ER in a coma. It wasn't a bad way to be - she slept through it all and felt nothing. Like us, totally numb. 

My Dad became a real life hero to me in that moment. He'll probably brush that statement off with a wince and a cheeky comment reaching the air but that weekend, along with the ambulance medical professionals, he really did assist in saving a life. Not many Mikey Joe Soaps can say that. He saved his wife, my mother, my grandfather's only child.

The aftermath has been tiring and emotionally draining, yet eye-opening and inspiring. 

We're not out of the woods. Mum's cancer has reduced in the main areas of her body, however it has spread to her brain, Small and scattered tumours, causing the seizures and adding to Mum's already busy schedule of hospital visits and treatments. Quite frustrating as this happened in the middle of her well-deserved break from chemotherapy. 

Mum is on a cocktail of medication, undergoing a fortnight of radiation, but we're not without good experiences and hope.  Doctors, nurses, friends, colleagues and solicitors have seen the positivity ooze out of my family. We've never been so open and comfortable with each other before. 

Simplifying life has become a shared focus. 

We don't feel like we're doing it on our own strength either, feeling the presence of our Heavenly Father and his "hands" on our shoulders, and sometimes behind our back, helping us through the tough stuff. 

Yes, it really would be a lovely thing to have a sibling to share this surreal experience with. That big brother dream I used to have. I mentally adopted family during my young teen years, and they've proved to be the kind of family I can open up to and rely on over the last few years. Two weeks ago, when Mum's breathing was so weak and a well-meaning doctor expressed that it would be wise for us to make our phonecalls, I spoke to my "big brother" over the phone, he and his lovely wife (my "big sister", Mum's close friend) were there at the other end of the line, albeit in a different country, but we were all connected. It felt like they were with us.

I have my supportive best friend/husband, my strong grandad, kind cousins, extended family, in-laws and generous friends to keep me going. And my dear lovely parents are ever present. My Mum is still here. Perhaps we are all grasping onto our pockets of precious time with more oomph than we did two weeks ago. If true, let that be so. This family is all I have and need. And I feel very blessed and grateful.

   

Stow away duck

Away from home tonight (short story = 2 weeks of no car, back to work tomorrow, Mum to the rescue), I opened my washbag and look who stowed away! (See attached photo) Always a parent, even when child free for an evening. It's like when I go to work and find a pack of babywipes in my handbag or a spare nappy in my jacket pocket...

Staying overnight at Château Grandad. I love spending time with him before bedtime. We chatted about all sorts, including pets and penpals, then I sorted out his freesat channels and we watched a gorgeous documentary about sea life before saying goodnight. And after retiring to the spare room, I sit in bed, the room reminds me of Grandma and I love it. No sadness, just hopefulness for the future and fondness of the past. Grateful for family ❤

- Is. 33:24; Ps. 46:1 -

Memoirs of a brand new 30 year old ;)

Last weekend, I put a jacket in my 'give away' bag, couldn't bring myself to do it just yet, so took it right out again. Dan asked why, and I said 'smell it and you'll understand... or maybe you won't...' It still smells of my Grandma... I was 5 months pregnant with our little boy when she died. When both of my children do cute things, I send my Grandad, my parents and Dan's family a message or a photograph/video - and miss telling my Grandma every time. I still haven't deleted her mobile number from my phone.

I also share a soft toy apple with my cousins, bought in a local newsagents on the day our Nana died. It was something that made us smile on a difficult day and triggers a memory of a shared moment in time. I was going out with Dan at the time, so she didn't make my wedding and didn't meet our 2 little sweethearts. And I think of her often, suddenly tasting madeira cake in my mouth, smelling sweet milky tea and visualising Silvermints peaking out from behind a picture frame in her living room, I still remember her home phone number.

I used to email Uncle Kevin with anecdotes, photos and corny jokes, and we'd exchange lovely updates via texts from him about our little girls ('our' being his daughter Em and my daughter T who was 1 year and 3 months when he died). To me, he was so similar to my own Dad, his sense of humour and character, hence we got on well. I was very fond of him and his kind qualities. He reminded me of my Nana too, and I wish I was as good as they were at keeping in touch with extended family. I can't bring myself to delete his email address, it's still saved as a contact in my email account.

What probably started off this sentimental post was this - last night, I went to sleep in my 20's. This morning, I woke up in my 30's.

It's a funny feeling. Those of you who know me, know that I don't celebrate events such as birthdays, Mothers' day etc, any event with unchristian origins. It still makes an impression on me though, becoming a little older... perhaps I'll be taken a bit more seriously now. I found when people heard the word 'twenty' at the beginning of my age, it didn't seem to matter that I was a mum of 2, or that I'd quite possibly experienced some things they never had. It was all about a number. A low number. A number that indicates youth, lack of maturity.  I have a lovely friend, also a mum, gone through more things in life than I could even imagine. I feel she's nothing like others I know in our age group, certainly seems more mature than me at times, and she's a couple of years younger than me! The danger of assumption.

While I notice many I know are celebrating Mothers today, I hope I become worthy of my family, especially my children, celebrating me and my efforts more often than once a year. No need for chocolates, flowers or cuppa in bed (though all VERY welcome). A loving kiss, a warm affectionate cuddle (aka 'cwtch', Welsh word for such a hug) or a gesture from the heart is more than enough to help me feel appreciated and loved. Won't matter what age I'll be. As long as they love me. When my babies volunteer such gestures, I melt.

Be still, my beating heart  ♥

Letter to my daughter

Dear Teagan,

I knew about you 6 years ago, a scan introduced us formally and from then on, we got to know each other.

You had hiccups often, that didn't change much after you were born and these days, at the ripe old age of 5, you often like to argue with me about the best way to get rid of your hiccups.

You are sweet, sensitive, comical and stubborn. You know your own mind, just like me, your mum, and I love that about you (sometimes ;) ). I'm trying to bond with you more recently because I see you are growing up so fast and you and I are so similar in ways, we grate on each other at times. I don't want you thinking I don't care. I do care. A lot. I see similarities in you and I, as I see them in my own mum and I.

We're odd beings, you and I. We mean well, we take things personally and we stick our feet into the mud too much, but I'm told we're still very loveable. That matters too, kiddo. So take a deep breath, look around, see what and who truly matter in your life and embrace it. Friends will come and go but your family is your safety net, your haven.

We love you.

I love you.

Love Mum xx

How to get some sanity. Part 2.

(for Part 1, please see my 1st of January 2014 post)

Can't believe I can finally say something has worked.

Handing over tons of baby clothes, 2 moses baskets, high chair... it's great!!! I even started decluttering my wardrobe, a full bin liner later and I feel like a new woman! Haha. Well, not quite. I see progress and floor space in my laundry/spare room, which is comforting.

I've had a few REALLY positive weeks, where I've felt more like myself, more in control of my feelings and managed to declutter my home and mind a little bit... Happiness, success and contentment swooshed through my veins... that word 'swooshed' is lovely, isn't it? 'Swooshed'. I think Miranda Hart would approve.

This weekend, I admit to having a wobbly. Overwhelmed and out of sorts, to be honest. I'm not saying this for sympathy, that isn't what I'm about. I say it out loud/online because I wish to be open and upfront with my family and friends. I don't wish to be the kind of person who makes life appear all rosy and perfect to the outside world while secretly panicking, sometimes welling up with frustration and fears. Colleagues in the past have often commented on my smiley disposition, calling me 'Smiley Em', sometimes giving out to me for being cheerful. Pah, it amuses me that they considered it strange! I feel intrigued and a little proud to be thought of in that way. Though I don't want anyone who observes my (or anyone else's) external cheerfulness to ever feel like it's never broken or tampered with anxieties behind closed doors. So much so, they may feel uncomfortable or even inadequate about their own abilities. I think herein lies the issue and even negative view about mental health. We shouldn't feel like we can't be honest, when people ask how we are... or when we feel low and want to speak up. Pride too is a dangerous thing.

Jeremiah 17:9

The heart is more treacherous than anything else
and is desperate. Who can know it?

And I remind myself and you, my friends, there's no such thing as perfect in this system! We all have our strengths and weaknesses. I'm learning to find and work with my strengths.

I also don't wish to moan. As I sometimes tell my gorgeous little daughter who has her moments, 'lots of moaning doesn't make us beautiful (inside or out)'. It may sound a little harsh, but I'm realistic and she appears to understand what I mean. I want to teach my children that it's okay to have good days, bad days, happy days, sad days, up and down days - and it's okay to express our feelings about them too, good/bad/indifferent. Sure, I'm protective and wish for their days to always be happy ones, but unfortunately we are in the lowest line of imperfect humans and this isn't really possible. We can try to make the best of them though :)

So, I forgot my lunch on Friday for the first time in years and was rescued by my lovely father. Made a silly mistake and broke down while driving yesterday (I know, I'm still learning, I should expect these bad days). Felt overwhelmed while it poured with rain yesterday on our family morning out and burst into tears. Panicked and shouted at my child today because they were doing something dangerous and didn't know it, they sulked until I calmly cuddled them explaining I wasn't cross, but I was scared, I loved them that much, they're irreplaceable, hence I reacted and shouted so loudly in the hope that they would stop, which they did.

This weekend has not been an easy one. An emotional ferris wheel. Felt like a failure at points. I did find pockets of sanity and happiness during a few moments though. When my husband made me a hot chocolate and gave me a proper cwtch (Welsh for a lovely warm hug), when our baby boy expressed 'Song, Amen, 'hovah' during our morning meeting, when our little girl sang a cute made-up song in the car on the way home after my blubbering episode yesterday morning and she also made her bed look beautiful this morning. Propped up cushions and everything.

I am grateful for my little things. I hope you can be too.

Tomorrow is Monday. Plenty to do. School starts again. I'll be cleaning up the same daily/weekly messes. Washing machine will be on full blast. Maybe the dryer too. The stereo, most definitely.

Not as boring as I could've been, methinks...

I have many excuses for my silence, and having drafted them all up, decided that I'm not the only one who has had alot on my plate so won't bore you with the details of moving house, pregnancy, moving house, saying goodbye to Grandma, giving birth, maternity leave/cover, stressful house issues (sewage), moving out of home temporarily (due to said sewage), German measles, visitors, work, preschool... it's all part and parcel of life, right?!

A few things I cherish out of it all:

~ my lovely supportive husband & family, especially my amazing trooper of a Grandad;
~ my kind friends;
~ I credit my inner strength & regular calm to our Father above. Whenever I feel a panic attack coming or a difficult  mood to shift, He is ever so prompt & consistent. I really appreciate it.

Roll on a new world with no stress or death... and plenty of love, harmony, humour and homegrown strawberries :)