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

Rolling Waves

 

On Sunday, on the spur of the moment, we went to Portreath. We went to meet family and celebrate an Uncle's birthday. Sun, sea and a barbecue. What could be better than that? The sun was glorious. There was a squally breeze, which helped to whip up the incoming tide. The boys and their cousins wasted no time. They ran to meet the foamy surf and dared the waves. They splashed and jumped and dunked themselves over and over again. 

They only left the water for their tea. Burgers and sausages. Fairy cakes and jelly babies. They sat enveloped in towels, shivering slightly. Olly's lips a rather fetching shade of blue. I wish I had thought to bring Alfie's bathing shorts. He wanted to go in the sea for the first time in a year. No matter. He waded in fully clothed, and dried out in minutes. Once full they rushed the waves once more. Olly was even more gun ho this time, and went under. He was in no danger in the shallows, but I held my breath. Up he came coughing and spluttering. He shook those wonderful wet curls and dived back into the waves. 

They don't come along very often, these magical impromptu days. This one didn't start until late afternoon. It carried on until late. It was possibly one of the loveliest days of the year so far. And a total antidote to the @%^$£ week that preceded it. I wish our trip to Portreath could be bottled. So that when the gloom descends, it can be opened up as a reminder to everyone (but mainly me) that our life here is awesome. Our trials are intense moments. But the good stuff far outweighs the bad.

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I am blessed. I really am. Lovely people visiting my blog, and leaving words of support and encouragement. One thing about me is that I find it nigh on impossible to leave it at the door. Self restraint? I wish I had some. I often wish that I could separate parts of my life from this blog. It's a hotch potch of stuff, often written on a whim. The odd planned post thrown in for good measure. It's not particularly sophisticated that's for sure. Honest? Yes. Quite often bored of the sound of my own voice? Yes. Hoping that you forgive my indulgence and ridiculousness? Yes!

Leanne xx

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

Stay And Play

I've just come home after dropping Pops off for his first school stay and play session. As I walked through the school grounds, I started to cry. I haven't stopped. I'm crying now. Big shuddering sobs actually. I can hardly see through my glasses as I type.

It's been a tough four years. Wonderful. But tough. For many reasons, but mainly the challenge of bringing up three boys of such spread out ages. Their wants and needs are so different, I often feel stretched to breaking point. This week has been difficult in terms of behaviour and issues, and I have dealt with some of it well, some of it not so well and some of it very badly indeed. And when that happens, I'm left questioning my abilities. I'm left wishing for more support. I'm left with an urge to run away. I quite fancy hiding on the Scillies for a week or two.

I'm sure that come September, when Olly is settled and our routine has been established, I'll love the reclaimed freedom that I will have. I know I'll never be bored. There is always something to do, somewhere to go, something to see and someone to have a laugh with. But at the moment I'm letting the tears flow. It's all part of the process.

Excuse me while I grab another tissue.

Leanne xx

My Kind Of Perfect

  

 

 

I have to say it's been a wonderful family focused weekend here. A perfect mix of seeing and doing and pottering and relaxing. Topped off with a great Grand Prix. And cake. We were going to venture further afield, but in the end we stayed local. Sometimes it's hard to choose where to go when you live here. We have so many favourite places. So many 'secret' spots that we return to time after time. And I'm glad we returned to them. They are old friends, and they welcome us back with a smile each time we visit.

So we piled into Betty. We grabbed pasties and coffee from Philps. We walked the dogs over Gwithian Towans. We drove to Godrevy.  The boys had an ice cream and we said hello to Granny. We went crabbing off the harbour pier and actually caught some. We looked for sea glass and blue pottery fragments. The weather was perfect. The light was spectacular. It was wild and windy in places and sheltered and warm in others. Honestly it doesn't get much better than this right now.

I am left with a lovely full up feeling. It may be that second slice of cake. But it feels good all the same.

Leanne xx