Not in public

There are lots of things I like. One of them is watching tennis. Not such a good player but I reckon I could commentate. Except that it would be quite exposed. Not as much as the players obviously. We don’t always get to see them at their best.

Serena Williams was playing at the US Open finals on Saturday. She totally lost it when she felt she was being accused of cheating. I guess you’re so pumped up, so competitive and combative on court you’re already quite close to losing it one way or another. It wasn’t a good look.

Most days I can feel myself drawing towards the line over which I will lose it. I suspect one of the best things for me about having children is the opportunities it affords for developing patience. I didn’t think I had a particularly fiery temper, wasn’t aware of my threshold for patience until I had children. Now I see myself a little more clearly and can see where work is needed.

What I’m really glad of is that so far I’ve managed to not totally lose it in public. It must feel terrible to have lost it in front of millions, even if many concede that she had a point. And each day I’ll keep trying not to lose it. Sometimes I’ll succeed. Those are the best days.

Enjoy the pie

So the summer ends. It was lovely. We did a lot of camping and went to Kent which is just about one of my favourite places to go and was as beautiful as I remember. Then we moved house and the children started at their new school and all of a sudden summer is over and a new style of life has begun.

We’ve taken a rental house as near to the new school as possible. It’s nice. The neighbours brought us a freshly made pie the day we moved in. The house is as close as is possible to exactly the same as the house we sold, complete with hatch (we knocked that wall down which made the hatch rather larger). That’s quite strange. It wasn’t like we thought that was the best ever house but it has worked out that we are in a replica. At least the furniture fits.

Children are amazing. They were nervous but it didn’t much show as they walked into their new school and began to find their way. Red said he didn’t have a snack on his first day as he wasn’t sure how that worked, but the second day he did. Good strategy: observe and then act. Myrtle went straight for the pancake; Isobel said that’s what you’re meant to do. Good strategy: check with a friend. They’ve both done so well. I am so relieved. Now I think maybe they can handle anything. I think maybe they think that now too.

The wait on the land seems a bit interminable. Still waiting for the mysterious trustees to meet and confirm that we won’t get a bill for tens of thousands as soon as we get planning permission. Can’t go ahead and buy before we know that so on we wait. And wait.

In the meantime, we will enjoy the pie.

The news I most wanted to hear

We are still waiting on the land. The trustees met on Thursday, but they are in no hurry to let us know that we can now buy the land. Assuming we can. What’s the hurry eh?

On the other hand, the thing that has had me must worried has zoomed through today and I am really glad of it. We applied for school places for Red and Myrtle on Wednesday, knowing that at the village school there is space for Myrtle but not for Red. I sent the letter on Wednesday and got a call today. They have a space for Red too, they can start at their new school together. And they didn’t leave us hanging on. I was on a run when the call came in. I could run really fast after I’d had the news!

We had found another school not too far away that we also really liked that had space for Red, but it wasn’t the nearest school. We also didn’t get quite the same feeling. The village school is small and not as well resourced but in each classroom the teachers were smiling, the room was calm and they all had time to say hello. I’ve worked in a lot of schools. I think the total is 16, all on a regular basis. Teachers are under a lot of strain, they can’t hide it when they are stressed and not quite in control when visitors come in. My work means I’m often the visitor, though rarely to directly observe the teacher. There’s so little time in teaching now to enjoy the children but with the teachers at our children’s new school the teachers gave a sense that they do enjoy the children and the opportunity to teach them how to spread their wings. This is a good place for them to go.

This is an enormous relief. Their current school is lovely. The teachers care and work together. The head teacher is on the play ground after school selling ice creams. Our children have not always been happy there but they have supported them through that to a place where they are as happy as our quiet, reserved, don’t like the crowd children can be. Moving them has worried me. I was always terrified of moving schools.

Feeling like we’ve found the right place, and that they can go together feels great. One mum I talked to moved a lot in her childhood and said it gave her confidence. To know you can walk into a room and leave it a few hours later having made a couple of connections is a good feeling. It needs to be the right room though. Now I think it will be the right room in the right school. And they knew I was worried so they let us know as quickly as they could. This is a good beginning.

And if the land falls through we will move anyway, rent for a good while, wait for an opportunity that seems like a good one. All is well. I hope it doesn’t fall through.

Hero

Sometimes people wonder if, were they to be caught up in something awful, they would be the one to leap forward and take the bullet, restrain the aggressor, save the masses. Alas not I. Not by instinct anyway.

Quite often when I’m walking home from school with Myrtle and she is zooming along on her scooter I come to a stop and have to consciously urge my legs to move. Heavy legs they are. The reason is that in my mind I have imagined that Myrtle is going to crash and my instinct is to stop dead. My halting progress must be mysterious should anyone look long enough to notice. She never does crash, or at least not in the way I’m expecting but it has led me to the conclusion that if I were caught up in a disaster my instinct would be to freeze.

There’s something similar when a job is multi faceted and seems enormous. My brain freezes and I don’t know what to do. The word for that is overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed by the enormity of a task and my instinct is to freeze.

Things have felt a bit like that this last week, getting all the things out of the old house and into two different places; things we need now to my parents’ house, things we will need later into a friend’s garage. It has been useful to understand how I respond to a big job like that. The most useful thing for me is to ask for a smaller task. Someone tell me where to begin and the ice melts and I can be useful.

I have yet to see Ben overwhelmed. We work well together. He dissects the problem, I’m pleased to do the bits I can do once I can see how to begin. Good teamwork. I think we will need to do some good teamwork on this journey. I’m glad not to be faced with a bullet.

Fly away

We moved out today. So many feelings. More than I expected. There have been so many good things in that house. The best thing was the next door neighbours. The worst thing was maybe the other neighbours. The ones who didn’t like the wood pile. Actually, the ones across the street were also really kind, and kindness really makes a difference.

When we moved, Red was 4, Myrtle was 15 months. Very small. They’ve done so much growing. We’ve done so much growing. Now we are 5. That shock made the floor in the kitchen shake. Or I think it did.

If anyone ever had any doubt about the quality of A.A.Milne’s writing they should read the last chapter of Winnie the Pooh. We can’t read that chapter. We listen to it and wail. There is no stopping those tears. Oh my. Just thinking about it, especially on the day we moved out, starts that off all over again. I know, time moves on. Children grow, spread their wings. It’s what we work for, what we are aiming for and we know it’s what we are watching as the days trickle by in monotony. But stopping to notice sears. Every time. Actually every time. Not literally every time. I hate what the word literally has become. That’s probably the subject of another blog post sometime. For now, time is passing. They are growing up. That’s a wonderful, lovely thing. It is extraordinarily tragic when it’s not the case. Still it hurts.

This is an exciting opportunity, a fantastic family adventure. It will mark our lives and we will mark time in relation to it. “Oh that was just before we started building the house”; “I remember that, it was when we were living at Nan and Dap’s”; “haha yeh, that was just before that big disaster”. Oh hang on, I don’t know about that yet. At least in my future imagination we are laughing at misfortune. Seems positive.

It feels really odd this evening. Home is someone else’s house. I will not say we are homeless. That is a very much more serious thing.

My parents sold the home I grew up in about 18 months ago. That felt odd. Then I realised home is where the people are, so their new house feels like home. Like their home. I expect soon it will feel like our home but we have been spending a lot of time thinking about what our home would be like and those thoughts have made me realise I have changed too. I spread my wings and flew away, but I didn’t really notice what was behind me, focusing only on what was ahead. That’s probably how it should be. Ben and I met when we were 16. Just coming up to 20 years ago. We met and I flew away. In his wedding speech my Dad sounded really pleased. Someone else to bear this burden. I didn’t really notice what now I understand lay behind the smile. It would have been a terrible, sad thing if I didn’t have wings in which to fly in whatever direction I chose. But A.A.Milne captured it again in the poem my Dad wrote out for me:

“Is this the little girl I carried,

Is this the little boy at play?

I don’t remember growing older.

When did they?”

I hope my children grow beautiful wings that will take them to wonderful places. I hope they come back sometimes. I hope it is not too soon. I know it will be too soon.