BABIES

Our son was an accident, a glorious unplanned wonder, fate stepped in and decided it was our time long before we knew it. We were barely three months married; children were something in the hazy out-of-focus future. I hate to say that I was dismayed, distraught even, the day the pregnancy line turned blue. I thought I was too young, I thought our marriage was too new and weak to withstand the rigors of parenthood so soon. And then nine months later he arrived. Strong and screaming and full of fight. I instantly loved him, suddenly three seemed such a better number than two. He has been the lynchpin in keeping our marriage together when it has felt tortured beyond physical limits, a ray of shining light in the darkest of times.

My baby is now on the cusp of turning three, a mini-man, his own little person, straining at the ropes of my motherhood for independence. We would love another, a brother or a sister for him to call his own. But fate is not working in our favour anymore, a baby still so new that it’s presence was a secret in the world was taken away from me last December and since that there has been nothing. To experience the flip side of life is tough, my heart and mind struggle with the extremes of it. The door of motherhood has been opened to me and I have seen the treasures that lie beyond and can’t help but want more. I am so grateful and blessed for what I have but there is space in my heart for another, I hope I get the chance to fill it.

SWIMMING POOLS

Went to the local leisureplex this morning with my son. We have been a few times before but I am afraid I am a bit squeamish about public pools so it would not be a regular haunt. As I lowered myself into the bath water temperature I tried not to let my mind detail to how many bugs this must be heaven or the number of kids doing a wee at any given point.

My normal childcare was not available which is why I found myself with a bouncing son and a morning with which to occupy him and distract him from trashing the house. What amazed me was the amount of parents, especially Dads, who were decked out in swimming togs and present for the swimming pleasure of their little ones. It was like lice coming out of the woodwork, but with fewer legs. I don’t mean they looked like lice (though that is something else you can probably pick up from a public pool!) but a whole community of people somewhere where you didn’t realize there was any before.

So there I was in desperate need of a bikini wax, sucking in my stomach and hoping that if someone did a poll I would squeeze into the vaguely glamorous mums category. As I watched the hundred of stories going on around me, each parent laughing and playing with their charge I thought the world is not so bad, the world is not so dysfunctional, the world is full of good people just trying to be the best parents they can be. It’s a hell of a job description.

Till Death Do Us Part

My husband was nearly drowned last weekend. Now, as you will know there may have been times in the past year when this might not have been such badly received news. But that was then. Here we are now, with bridges repaired and hearts patched up. I don’t want him to die, for many reasons:
He is the father of my son (and a great one too),
I am too young to be a widow,
I want to have more of his children,
I can’t pay the mortgage on my own,
I really like him and think part of me might die too.
He was lucky, others don’t get the chance to be. It was just one moment, one moment when the bravery of a friend and a guardian angel said, "Not yet. It is not his time. Let him go". In his struggle and fight to stay afloat in the choppy waters and climb out to solid safety he lost his wedding ring. The irony is not lost on me considering recent events. The symbol of a promise made, blessed in faith and hope. A reminder of a day that was. Gone forever. But a ring would never bring me comfort, the symbol is gone but I am thankful to still have the man. Thankful that the sea tossed him back to safety deciding it didn’t need one more human life that day.

The Wrong Shoes

What are the early signs of Alzheimer’s? I am sure I have blank brain spots where information used to be. Is there a way of increasing your brainpower once you are over 30? I heard once that the number of brain cells you have is your lot for life. If that is the case I am f**ked. I left my little man in nursery this morning with his shoes on the wrong feet, it is a wonder I am left responsible for the dog never mind another human!

Gossip Gossip

I strayed onto facebook last night and eavesdropped on the lives of others, cause that is what it feels like. Apart from this blog, which I do more for myself than for others, I have yet to plunge myself into the world of virtual friendships. Yet there they all were past and present acquaintances climbing mountains, feeling happy, feeling frustrated, sharing feelings. They post them for the world to read, yet I felt like I was trespassing, looking into worlds where I no longer belonged, worlds that I had left behind and had lost the right to share in. I looked and read, I voyeured . I am a traditional kinda girl; this digital age is scaring me.

GROWING PAINS

Why are we always so desperate to ‘grow up’? Life does that to you, makes you want to sample the green grass on the other side of the fence. It makes you wish away and waste your youth on yearnings for adulthood. When you get there you look back longingly at the pastures you left behind realising maybe they were the greenest after all.
Today there was no grass just sand, miles of beautiful golden sand and sunshine – actual sunshine on the north coast! You gleefully stripped down to bareness to run through the waves. Splashing and smiling, your cup running over. What a simple, special pleasure to watch my healthy, strong and wondrous little boy. With wind in our hair and sun on our backs, I thought, I never want to be anywhere but here, in this moment forever.

CLOCKS

‘Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans’
Sometimes I feel like the rabbit in Alison in Wonderland, running endlessly trying to catch up with time. So I stay up later, get up earlier, try to squeeze the most out of everyday. I am a time-junkie always wanting that little bit more: then I will write that book, read more, exercise, phone my friends more, do a cookery class, I will lounge back on my sofa and learn a new poem everyday. Internal clocks tick too chiming down my mother years. Time is cruel. It plays trick or treat with your life, you never know time’s trump card, never get to know the balance of your own account.

Rough Edges

Marriage is like a circle - united, smooth, symmetrical, unbreakable. How then is it supposed to be made up of people who have edges – pointy and sharp, with separate needs and wants?
I suppose that over the years it is hoped you rub the rough edges off one another, you grate together long enough to sand off the corners, leaving only smooth curves for the waves of time to wash over. Time. Time sprints past in pairs.