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

On Social Media

This morning I woke up at 6.10am, picked up my mobile phone and pressed the short cut icon that connects me to Facebook. How terribly sad of me. How has this happened?

I like Facebook because:

I can upload photos of my children and share them with my family. For example I tagged my sister in pictures of my weekend in Bristol. So she can show them to my Mum. I love the in the moment nature of these kinds of photos, and I love to share them.

I can keep connected to old friends that live all over the world. It means a great deal to me to be able to see how they are and what they are up to. It makes me feel much closer to them.

I love the ridiculous banter that I can have with people who share a common love of Victoria Wood, the 80's, Friends and who get my sense of humour. I love to laugh, and there's not a lot of that around here at the moment.

I love the flippancy of it. I often chuckle to myself at the ridiculous personal statuses I put up. I'm like that. I often laugh at my own jokes.

I can speak to people through the inbox system in real time. In private.


I don't like Facebook because:

It can be used as a place to bully and intimidate people.

I am not too keen on the 'my perfect life' illusion that seems prevalent in all media.

There is a lot of stalking that goes on, when one person quietly watches someone else from the sidelines, flicking through the pages of their life. That's kind of weird. I did it myself once. It felt wrong but it also felt strangely compelling. I never did it again.

It can be used to float an open ended comment that can be harmful or hurtful.

It is easily accessed by young children, who aren't mature enough to engage with social media of this kind.

Equally it can be accessed by adults, who aren't mature enough to engage either.

There are those who would use it for unethical and evil purposes.


I joined Facebook in 2009, in order to connect with old Uni chums. I have 151 friends, and apart from a couple of imaginary characters (a long story), they are all people that I know. I don't go searching for blasts from the past. I couldn't care less what old boyfriends are doing, for example. I do like to look at any photos that people post up. Even those people that I haven't seen for the longest time. I don't think I have ever fired off a bitchy, sarcastic or a 'you know it's directed at you, even though I haven't mentioned you by name' post. I'm more likely to stew in my own head about whatever is bothering me, rather than use Facebook as a place to air my grievance. It's cowardly, and although I am a coward I'm not that sort of coward.

Some of my friends can get very political, and it can get annoying. But I scroll down. They have chosen to use Facebook as a platform to voice their views and opinions, and that's fine by me. I don't have to read it if I don't want to, and I would imagine that's fine by them. I'm sure there are those that scroll past me. I mean not everyone is as fascinated by my three year old as I am. I admit to feeling a little hot under the collar at the 'my perfect life' statuses. But I have also been accused of portraying that right here. I guess we see and read what we want to in that moment.

My eldest son has been on Facebook for about three years. We agreed to him having an account. It was one of those Xbox moments; As a parent you hate them, but you let them have them. And them you moan when they spend all their time on them. I won't let my middle son access Facebook. He is too young. I have had friend requests from children as young as seven. I don't accept their requests. I can't accept what I don't condone. Even as I write that I have remembered that I am friends with my nephew. He is 9. Inconsistent. That's me.

Alfie has a mobile phone, and therefore he can text or talk to anyone he wants to. He also has Internet access. With relevant parental controls. I'm not comfortable with him having a phone. I'm not sure children are responsible enough to use them wisely and appropriately. But I like that I can check in on him when he is out and about. And, you know, everyone has a phone. Everyone. And I bow to peer pressure and oughts and shoulds all the time. Letting him have a phone is one of those times. I'm completely normal, mundane, fallible and obvious in that respect I'm afraid.  The second shot in my foot.

But I digress...

I realise that I am too reliant on Facebook. I spend an awful lot of time on my own, and it has become a way of engaging with the world. A very lazy way. In the same way as it is easier to text than phone. Or email. And when was the last time I wrote a letter? 1993? And so today I am wondering. I am wondering whether I could walk away from it. Could I take myself off Facebook for a whole month? And if I do that should I take myself off every form of social media? I don't use Twitter. I don't have Instagram. I don't use Snap Chat or Ask.fm or anything else. Pinterest was a five minute wonder. But I do have this blog, and it is a social platform of sorts. So if I junk Facebook, do I also junk Today's Stuff? Could I junk it?

...............................

So I have returned to this post, after thinking about it. And in about twenty minutes I shall be leaving Facebook for a month. But I'm still unsure about my blog. So I wonder what you who are reading this think about it all? I'm sure you've thought about all of this stuff too. Do you spend too much time on social media? Do you think that my blog belongs in the same category as Facebook and as such should be junked for a month? Have you left Facebook? Did you return?

I would really appreciate your feedback and comments.

Thank you.

Leanne xx