Two Weeks In

So we have made it through the first two weeks of a new school year with barely a scrape. Samuel is currently writing, editing and having vetted his personal statement for his Uni application. He is attending several open days over the next couple of months. I think he quite fancies Liverpool, although the Oxbridge route is also a real possibility. It's a very exciting/daunting time for him, I think. And I'm excited for him too. And slightly alarmed by his intelligence, and where it may take him. Wherever he ends up, he's going to have a ball.

Alfie has had a good start too. I think not being the newbie has had some positive effects. Apparently the new children that have joined this year are 'so immature." Hmmm. To be honest his first year at secondary school was pretty grim in terms of his behaviour and attitude. Not so much at school, but definitely at home. So hoorah for school hierarchy! Especially if it gives this Mum some respite.

And Olly? Well, his first two weeks of school have been interesting. His school operates a gentle settling in period, so he has only attended for three hours for the past two weeks. Next week he will stay and have lunch, and then come home. And the week after that he starts full time. Given how tired he has been just attending for three hours, I do worry about how he will cope when he has to go full time. I'm hoping that it's just that everything is new and different, and therefore a little stressful for him. He has objected on a number of occasions at having to go every day.

As for me, can I admit to looking forward to when he does go full time? Not that I won't miss him, because I will. But school was always going to happen, wasn't it. I did toy with home schooling, but actually I don't think I'd be very good at it. I read Jennifer's post with great interest and admiration. I like the idea of a 50/50 approach, but that wouldn't be an option here. And I think that Olly wouldn't benefit long-term to being taught at home full time. And to be honest, it wouldn't be good for me either. Can I admit to a craving for my own company? I have a number of plans for those hours, and I feel rather excited about it. Nothing very glamorous or high achieving, to be sure. But then I never was one for reaching for the stars. But to have some time. Yes that sounds very appealing.

So for the past couple of weeks, my days have been a little dis-jointed. I drop Pops off, go for a swim or walk Honey, fly around the house with the vacuum and then pick him up again. He has needed quiet time, and so we have spent hours on the sofa, or quietly playing Lego. I don't mind. I have cherished it actually. Here I am with one just starting school, and one about to fly the nest. There's a lot going on!

We have been out and about. The weather has been glorious in West Cornwall. It always is in September. Our last hurrah, before the Autumn kicks in. We have spent time on the beach, and time up the country lanes. On Wednesday we went looking for hips, and found ourselves at St John's In The Field. The grounds of the church are a nature reserve, and there are always things to do and see. I found the hips (yay), and we also found conkers, feathers, leaves and seed pods. Back home I made rosehip syrup. Ostensibly for health. But actually for cocktails and an accompaniment to Prosecco. Honestly that and the sloe gin steeping in the broom cupboard, anyone would think I'm a foraging lush.

I got very over-excited about the butterflies gorging themselves in the sunshine. I haven't seen a Comma all summer, but there were several and they seemed quite docile and happy for me to get up close and personal. It never fails to bring such pleasure, this pursuit of the butterfly. I have a little app on my phone that I can use to help me identify them. I can also log the ones that I spotted. What more does a nature nerd need!

Two weeks in, and things are good. Thank goodness for that.

Have a great weekend!

Leanne xxx

A Slow Week

That's what it's been here. Yes there have been things to do, like ironing endless labels into Olly's schooliform,* running Sam around now that his bus pass has run out and cleaning. But we have spent our last week of the summer holiday at home. We haven't strayed far, and we haven't filled our days with busy. It's been lovely to potter about in the garden, and snuggle up on the sofa with Olly.

I think that we are ready for the new school year to begin. Olly has drawn his brothers pictures of himself, so that they won't miss him when he starts school. He's wearing a rather fetching turban in one of them. We have finished his holiday scrapbook to hand in on his first day. I say we....

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Your comments on my last post warmed the cockles of my heart. Thank you. Yes things are going to very different around here soon. I think I am ready for it now. I have tossed and turned between a fear of letting go, and a need to have some time for me. I think I'm a bit scared of finding out that there's not much of me left. I guess I'll know soon enough!

Have a lovely weekend everyone.


Leanne xx

*a Charlie & Lolaism

Thoughts on Thoughts

I haven't been sleeping well lately. An insomnia of sorts. I think that it's more than that though. My days are so rich and full at the moment, it should follow that my nights are spent in a deep satisfying slumber.

Not so much.

I'm tired. And yet my mind is a whir. Flitting from one thing to another. There are lists. And musings. And lots and lots of thinking. About all kinds of stuff. I feel as if I want to share them all here.

With you.

Because I know you. But then again I can't possibly know you. I would never presume such a thing. And yet I trust you. So I'm thinking that maybe all the process and knee jerk that fill these pages, is an attempt to let you really know me. Because the relationship that I have found myself making with you here has become so important. I want you to know me. Because I like you. I think that you're pretty cool. We seem to have a lot in common. And yet these relationships confuse me also. They fall through my fingers like the sand I walk across everyday. I want to give you all something. A pebble from my favourite beach maybe? A little tangible something to connect us.

I have been given support, encouragement and solidarity here. I have poked fun at myself, railed against the world and written posts when I am full throttle pre-menstrual. It has been at once liberating and cringe worthy. There have been posts of pure self indulgence, which I have relished as a thing rarely allowed in my real life. I take risks here by showing little bits of myself to you, and I'm thinking that that is good for me.

Here's the thing....I am not like this in real life. I am a reserved listener, who is rarely as candid as I am here. Would you believe me if I told you that I often feel so lonely slap bang in the centre of this little life I have created for myself?  That my voice has been lost in a sea of voices for a long time. And yet through this space my voice grows a little louder everyday. I am so thankful to you for letting me think here. I am thankful of your quiet holding of me as I go about my thinking.

I am thinking this when I should be asleep.

I am thinking that I shall have an extra cup of coffee instead.

I am thinking.

Thinking that I should open up more to those around me.

Thinking of new challenges ahead.

Thinking of change, and why it scares me.

Thinking of all the sloe and blackberries that I have picked.

Thinking that I don't give myself enough credit.

Thinking that a washed out early return from France wasn't so bad actually.

Thinking that I can be a moody cow.

Thinking that Barbara Kingsolver might just be the best thing since sliced bread.

Thinking about painting the kitchen grey.

Thinking about a slow week ahead (yay).

Thinking of that poor young journalist.

Thinking about nothing in particular.

Thinking.

Think.

That's it.


Leanne xx

Inspired by Annie. But also inspired by all of you.

Simple Pleasures

When it comes down to it, all children enjoy simple pleasures the most. I can sometimes lose sight of this during the summer holidays. I feel the need to 'fill' it with interest for them, and when you are dealing with the age spread that I do, it usually only means one thing. Trouble. Trying to come up with activities and days out that will satisfy them all is impossible. That hasn't stopped me from trying. And failing. And getting stressed out and angry at what? The fact that two of them would much rather spend it doing their own thing than be with me!

So this summer, I have literally left Sam alone. It is the first time that I haven't cajoled or forced him to come out with us for day trips or walks. I mean the poor boy is seventeen, for goodness sake. Time for this mother to let go. So I have, and he has opted for not coming on any trips out or holidays with us. And it's actually been ok. Letting go has not been as upsetting as I thought it might be. He has started to carve out his own life away from us. One that I am not privy too, and I'm fine with that. Trawling through my memory banks to when I was seventeen, I remember it as a time of real change and growth. I had so many new experiences - my first boyfriend, my fist sip (ahem) of alcohol, a holiday job and secret adventures of my own that my family were definitely not privy to.

It's a bit more difficult with Alf. At twelve and a half, he can be left at home while I am out and about for a couple of hours. But not all day. And never during the evening. I still feel that I have to impose time limits on anything electronic, even though it feels as if that is all he would like to do. I crave fresh air and exercise for him. I want him to be outside roaming with his mates at the skate park or down at the beach. He shows no interest in any of these things this summer. He has started the pupa stage of teen. He spends most of his time in his pyjamas, wrapped up in his duvet and sat in a dark un-ventilated bedroom. He would spend all of his time on his games console if I let him. I don't. It causes a lot of shouting. From both of us.

A compromise of sorts has been reached. He is allowed to do his (hideous gaming) thing, as long as he comes out with me and Pops some of the time. I know it's a bit of a woolly compromise, but it comes without the vile screaming matches that occur, me at the bottom and him at the top of the stairs. They are exhausting, and not good for anyone. And if I trawl back further through my memory banks, I remember feeling the same. My Dad was very authoritarian. He said 'jump', I said 'how high?' Until I reached the age of about thirteen. Then I said no! It was a very emphatic no as I recall, and it caused all sorts of problems between us until the day I left home at eighteen. He wouldn't allow me the no. He couldn't understand that I could and should be left alone to do my own thing. Even if that thing was sitting and watching Black Adder videos all day. Or listening to music in my bedroom and not seeing the light of day for weeks. I don't want to be that kind of parent. I think my Dad got that bit of my upbringing wrong, and yet I fear that I am making the same mistakes with my own children, and especially with Alfie. You may have gathered that we are very alike.....

Obviously with Pops, things are a piece of cake. Everything I suggest is brilliant, according to him. He bounces and flick flacks along with unbridled enthusiasm for all adventuring with his Mum. Thank God for my four year old, otherwise I'd be walking along and talking to myself. We have had a fabulous holiday together, whether it be hanging out watching Pixar movies, playing on the beach or walking the dog. It's all fun and go and do with Pops, which is just how I like it too. I am looking forward to many more years to come before he pulls away from me. I think I've hit the balance nail on the head with him. A case of third time lucky maybe?

 

 

My attempts at balance in the holidays worked beautifully yesterday. It was one of those lovely late summer evenings. Perfect for bouldering up Rosewall and Buttermilk Hill. Olly had fallen from rocks at Cape Cornwall the day before, and spent most of the day in repose on the sofa, feeling sore and miserable. He seemed fully recovered by late afternoon however, and so I thought a spot of clambering over the ancient stones that lay at the top of these hills might just be the way to get him back in the saddle, so to speak. Alfie came too. Reluctantly at first, but once there, his inner child got the better of him. We spent a couple of hours scrambling, climbing and playing hide and seek. Neither of them wanted to come home, and I was grateful for this time that we spent together. It was unplanned with minimum fuss and stress. Simple pleasures are definitely the best whatever the age. They just need a little nudge to be reminded sometimes. And a Mum with the sense to know when and when not to do the nudging. I guess we are all a work in progress!

Leanne xx

A Walk After Tea

One thing about being away from home for nine days out of eleven is that there is a lot to catch up on. So it's been all go on the domestic front. Olly hasn't minded all the healthy neglect. He's been re-acquainting himself with all of his toys. And watching Despicable Me. Quite a lot.

 But after tea I felt the need to get out and stretch my legs. The early evening sun beckoned me, Pops and  Honey up the road to Burthallan Lane, and from there to Clodgy Point. I love this walk, as it's completely brilliant for little boys who need to run off their energies before bedtime. Or anytime in fact. Marc and I have paraded all our boys along this route through the years, and it never fails to hit the spot.

Our road. We live bottom left. Alf's friend used to call it
 The White House,  which sounds much grander than it actually is!

Olly is into Batman at the moment. And cutlasses. So he jumped, spoke in a growly voice and brandished his weapon at any unsuspecting passer by. Where on earth this boy gets his energy from I have no idea. He literally bounds and bounces his way through each and every day. He is always up for adventure, and his enthusiasm is just wonderful. However he did nearly fall into the path of an oncomming car. I cannot always anticipate his every quick as lightening moves. The driver gesticulated. I returned the compliment. I think I've bought a bit of Bristol back home with me.

There are three enviable houses that we pass on our walk. To me anyway. One is just up the road from us. Sam used to call it The Witches' House, and I guess it does have that Brother's Grimm look about it. I've been lucky enough to have a poke about inside, which only makes me covet it more, being Arts and Craft in style with a beautiful living room fireplace complete with Bernard Leach tiles.

The next house is at the beginning of Burthallan Lane. It must have stood alone once upon a time, but other houses have sprung up around it over the years. It's a wonderful cottage, with the most exquisite garden. I particularly love their low box hedging, and herbs growing out of the Cornish stone wall.

Finally is a new house that stands in the most enviable position, overlooking the whole of St Ives Bay and beyond. Olly was a baby when this build started, and it was only completed last year. Money was definitely not an issue when it came to this house, but today I noticed how the owners are starting to soften it with thoughtful planting schemes.

These houses always satisfy my nosey-parker tendencies.

 Along the lane and down the footpath towards Clodgy Point are the hedgerows. We picked and ate our first Blackberries, and Olly broke off a dried plant stem to make yet another weapon. He thrust it in and out of the bushes, scattering seeds from the dried out pods of Campion and others. I wonder if Mother Nature ever banked upon little boys to be effective agents of dispersal? The hedgerows show the turning of the seasons better than any where else I know. I may be awaiting my Dahlia show in the garden, but it's here that I am assured an end to summer is approaching. There are still lovely things to see though, and I promised myself that I would gather an armful of those dried stems on our return. I know Marc will be thrilled at the prospect of another twiggy display at home.

 And then before we knew it, we had reached Clodgy Point. It's an outcrop that stretches it's tip into the sea. There are several of them heading down the coast towards Land's End. They are know as the 'Seven Sisters', and on a good day you can see them all from here. The view is magnificent. A panorama that takes in the coast that lies north of St Ives, maybe as far as Chapel Porth or St Agnes (I'll have to find out). And way down South towards the Pendeen and beyond. I want to sit and stare. Olly wants to play hide and seek. Honey wants me to throw her a stick. Two out of three's not bad.

We do watch a man and his little girl fly a kite. She is about the same age as Pops, and her laughter is infectious. It's a lovely scene. I 'hallooo' a few people that I know. One is out dog walking, the other is puff puffing up the hill in her running gear. I feel rather guilty that I have been so slothful of late, but then I remind myself that come September I will have the time to devote to rather more self involved practices. So to celebrate that thought, I offer a piece of fudge to Pops and have one myself.

It's time to turn back the way we came. I chivy Pops along by telling him the story of Hansel and Gretl on the way. We only stop to look at the horses in the fields, and the swallows darting and skimming within. The sun is starting to dip, and I'm surprised to notice that we've been out for over two hours. I think that our tea must have gone down by now. It's a less whirly gig walk home, and I piggy back Olly some of the way. Once home, it's straight into pyjamas for both of us. A glass of milk, a clean of the teeth and a bedtime story. Lights out, and Olly is in the land of nod in minutes.

I artfully arrange my twigs, and pour myself a glass of wine.

Happy days.


Leanne xx

(all pics were taken with my phone, so not the best quality. And a few squiffy horizons to boot!)

Lately

Hello!

How are you? Well I hope.

Hey, thank you all so much for your lovely comments about my guest post on The Colour Collaborative. Really. Warmed the cockles of my heart. Lovely people.

































July has flashed by. I'm staring August in the face, and the long summer holiday is stretched out before me. I've written a list. Three actually. Four if you count my Camp Bestival list (we are going on Thursday). I feel a little as if the holidays started a couple of weeks ago, but it may just be that the weather has been so great that opportunities for outdoor fun has been maximised.

Olly has finished nursery. I made a giant cream tea for the teaching staff to enjoy. He bounded out on his last day with a cake and lots of crafty stuff. He said goodbye and didn't look back. I cried my eyes out on the way home. When do you start looking back or feeling nostalgic? Little ones just don't do they. Onward to new adventures. Life is just one long summer holiday for them I reckon.

We have enjoyed evenings at the beach, tea overlooking Godrevy, walks in the woods, a trip out in the fishing dingy, spotting seals in the harbour, crafting madness at home, Lilo and Stitch on Netflix, making Rhubarb and Strawberry jelly (heavenly) and general pottering and pootling about. Don't get me wrong, it's not all been plain sailing. Olly has not been sleeping well, Alfie has been an utter git and Sam is tired - and therefore teasy -  from all the pot washing at work. So it can be a drag here, to be honest. As I've said before, it's those very concentrated periods of hideousness that seem to place a weight on top of my head and push it down.

But......

Yesterday I had a quiet word with myself. I am singing that song from Frozen. I am letting it go. I am going to chill the flip out. I am going to ignore the boundary pushing behaviour. I am going to snuggle up and watch a bit of telly with Pops if we are tired. I shall blithely float past Sam's sharp responses. I am not going to go mad, feeling that I should do this or ought to do that. I have my list, but I'm focusing on relaxation for better hallway vision*

I'm going to try anyway!

Leanne xx

*The Breakfast Club. Remember it?

Happy

Hello lovelies. And hello to new followers, you are most welcome.

This week has been a bit shit to tell you the truth. I don't know if it's tiredness, or hormones, or both. We are in the land of the cross here, I can tell you. Lots of fighting and cheeky/naughty behaviour. Boundaries being pushed big time. I have this fuzzy head, which is often a precursor to spiraling down into the blues. Everything has gone to pot.

I was told the other day that I try too hard to be a 'good' Mum. That I exhaust myself by trying to do too much, and the net result seems to be that my children demand more and more, without showing any gratitude or respect. It was a pretty damming indictment of myself and my children. I didn't like hearing it, and it took a while to process what was meant. It's true that I have huge internal struggles about motherhood. It doesn't come easily to me. When I read accounts of the surge of love mothers felt for their new born, I don't get it. I was just too exhausted. I am always too exhausted. I'm exhausted right now. I battle with the stay at home Mum role a lot. I see it as my job, and I want to do it to the best of my ability, when good enough would probably do for about ninety percent of the time.

At times like these I find that my mind gravitates to the negative. Everything is hard work. I doubt all of my abilities, and I wonder about my place in the world and how it just didn't pan out the way I thought it might. I can feel huge resentment towards, well anyone really. My mind starts playing tricks on me, as I question it all and the urge to runaway from it all wells up inside me. Do you ever get that feeling? The urge to flee. It's horrible isn't it? Well I am getting it a lot this week.

I'm not influenced by the media. The only thing I buy into is that my hair will become full and lustrous if I buy the right shampoo. I don't think that if I fill my house with mason jars, peonies or succulents, my life will be enriched in any way. I don't believe that being a size eight with a washboard stomach will bring me inner peace and happiness. I quietly laugh to myself at some of the 'lifestyle' blogs and magazines and shows out there. I am the most uncool person you are ever likely to meet, if being cool means reading feminist literature whilst cooking quinoa burgers on a open pit fire in the middle of a meadow and then diving into the river for a spot of wild swimming.

But I am influenced by the way other people present themselves and their children. Particularly when it comes to the behaviour of their children. Although I know that it is not possible that their children are perfectly behaved all of the time, there is a little bit of me that holds it up as a mirror to my own. I am a pretty honest person, and if my boys are being little bleeders (which is a lot of the time) then I will voice it. Experience has shown me that most people are not as honest. Either that or I really am a mother to the three biggest brats in Cornwall. And what is the deal with other people thinking that they can voice an opinion on the behaviour of your children, or float praise of their own at the expense of yours? I just don't get it. I don't get it after seventeen years of parenting. All I know that it either pisses me off or deeply hurts me, depending on how am I feeling.

Oh dear! Sorry about that. Excuse the mad ranting. It's that time of year I guess. Don't take me too seriously. Honestly I always feel better after one of these rants. And I am the world's most contrary person at times ;) And I've just bragged big style on Facebook just now.....

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Just a few happy things. There are little gems there. I need to hold onto them really tightly at the moment. My eyes are open. I know the signs. I know I need to take a step back and breathe and turn my destructive thinking patterns around.

A gift from CJ
Gold for Alf
Sunflower
Ice Pops

Alfie and his mate Thai

Last week I met fellow blogger CJ. She writes at Above The River. Perhaps you already follow her tales of raising three boys, growing on her allotment and general musings on life. She is what I call an honest blogger. She is funny and down to earth and meeting her in real life was an absolute pleasure. She gave me this mug as a gift. One of my first ever posts was about breaking the exact same mug, and how upset I was. I am originally from Bristol, and a big part of my heart still belongs there. I was so touched that she had read the post, and remembered. What an absolute babe she is.

Alfie and I have been locking horns big time lately. God how that boy can get under my skin. He is really struggling with the minefield that is being an almost teen in secondary school. His confidence at all levels has really taken a hit. But he is also demonstrating behaviour that cannot be excused. He was ribbed at the start of his club championships. He was told that he would 'be owned' by all the other green belts. He took all the banter very seriously, and almost bailed on the tournament. But he told gold in his category. A huge confidence boost for him. He smiled and looked happy for the first time in ages. It's all you need sometimes isn't it?

I have sunflowers in the garden. They haven't been chewed through by the snails. They are a beautiful addition, and always remind me of growing them at school. Such a simple, honest plant. There aren't fancy and frou frou, and I love them all the more for it.

My last happy, if you can picture it, is sat in the garden after school sucking on an ice pop. I love ice pops. I devoured them when I was pregnant with Alfie. I remember buying them after school and eating them on the bus home. Again a simple honest treat. You can keep your Magnums, I'll have an ice pop any day.

Have a lovely weekend

Leanne xx

Flight behaviour

I read CJ's post with interest yesterday. She wrote about the come down she was feeling after her holiday. I certainly felt the same this morning, as I came back down to earth with a bump. It was aided and abetted by the daily loggerhead with Alfie. The weekend already seems so far away.

I really didn't want to do the mundane this morning. I knew that I should clean the bathrooms, cut the grass, go to the supermarket and generally get the house into order. But I really couldn't be bothered. So I assigned myself just two jobs; ironing and unblocking the upstairs loo. I figured that I deserved some time out after they were completed, and so I proposed to Olly that we go butterfly spotting. With the dogs. And some chocolate and a juice box. He jumped at the chance. Well wouldn't you?

I have documented the walk we took before, but it's always different. The foxgloves are all but over, the flowers climb further up the stem and are replaced with soft green seed pods. The blackberry bushes are unfurling their pink and white flowers, which are enjoyed by many different pollinators. In fact the sound of buzzing and the amount of flying insects was quite amazing.. The pink campion are still in flower, but their seed pods are mature. We rattled them and Olly enjoyed scattering the seed. Different types of grasses are abundant now, and it enveloped us as we walked down the path towards the cliffs.

There were a great many orange beetles crawling all over the hogweed. At least I think that's what it was. It is similar to cow parsley, although it's chunkier and less wafty. I think there may have been angelica too, but my plant identification is still scant. I did see scabious and kidney vetch growing out of the ancient Cornish hedges that border the fields. Along with thistles and yellow flowers which are all lumped together as dandelions, even though they obviously aren't. I thought afterwards that I should take close ups of all of these, and identify them later. I have a book.

There were butterflies. They were everywhere in fact, and very busy they were too. An abundance of Red Admirals flitting here and there, barely pausing for breath. We spotted Speckled Woods and Gatekeepers, Meadow Browns and what may have been either a painted lady or a larger fritillary. They were too quick for me to photograph, and Olly and the dogs were impatient to keep moving. We also disturbed quite a few day flying moths. White with black speckles. At least I think they may be moths. I need to ask my moth and butterfly guru, CT.

The weather turned as we walked, and spots of rain turned into a rather heavy downpour. Olly insisted that I carry him back to the start of the footpath. He really is too big to carry for any long distance, but I obliged. Time is short with this one. I shall miss our ambling walks together when he starts school in September. Who will I be able to point things out to. Who else will enjoy shaking the campion seed pods or playing the "tree in the summer" game with the grasses? Who will laugh at the daft orange bugs with me, and watch the farmer and his dog herd the cattle from one field into another?

As usual I am writing this post after I have put Pops to bed. It's been mayhem here this afternoon. Lots of teenage hideousness that I won't bore you with. Suffice to say I am frazzled. If it's another fine day tomorrow, I am returning to the hedgerows. I shall record the plants and try capture the butterflies. I think that may help to strengthen my resolve and my nerves for life here.

Leanne xx