Clouds lifting

Today the cloud lifted. I’d been trying not to look at the cloud but it hung heavy and closed the doors for a while. I don’t know why, or quite how long it stayed or why this morning it felt better. I am glad it feels better. It was odd though. Suddenly I could run faster. I’m just finishing the Couch to 5k programme. It worked, now I can run for a good while and keep going. Yesterday I didn’t go for a run. The cloud was crouching too low, my legs were too heavy, doing anything was hard. Today I could run, and faster than last week, much faster than yesterday. Strange, the physical impact of something that I assume is primarily in my head.

At the weekend we were away camping with friends. It was nice, the place was pretty, the food was good. It was really hard. Somehow the doors were closed and only the dark colours could get through. A bit like when in Harry Potter the Death Eaters put a charm on the stairs so only those with the Dark Mark can get through. Eventually the jinx is broken but it’s pretty gloomy in the meantime.

It would be useful to understand why the cloud descended, and what made it blow away. I’m not certain there’s an answer. Perhaps there are factors. I found it very emotional moving out of my parent’s house and wanted to surpress that as much I could, for everyone’s sake. It was busy moving house, and everything takes a bit more effort, finding the things in the house, finding my way out of it. I’m really good at getting lost. Or maybe for a while my brain didn’t make enough of what it needs to make me feel happy and then one day it did again.

I think this is something a lot of people go through. It’s not the first, or the worst time for me. I’m really glad it’s past. At least for now.

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.

Days pass

Funny the difference from one week to another. Last week, packing and managing some big emotions, this week unpacking and managing different big emotions. No wonder I feel tired.

We wanted to move to this area and I’m glad it has worked out, one way or another. But it was really hard moving out of my parent’s house. We treated our stay a bit like a holiday, at least when we were both there which was less often than you might expect. I really like my parents. It was fun to share this part of our life with them. Of course, we will still share our lives but it is different when you live together. There is good and bad. Mostly there was good, taken with a glass of wine.

It’s interesting to see how, because we are on the move more often, I may be noticing the passing of time more. A few months there, three months here and half a year has gone by. Having a baby makes you notice that too – so much changes for them in the first year. Today I’m glad of that. Birch has said “uh uh uh” meaning “make it all better” for a lot of hours today. It felt like a long one. But now the sun is setting through the bathroom window and the scented candle is bringing the tranquility it advertises and the day is past.

Transition

Birch is wondering whether it would be fun to walk by himself. The big children walked quietly into their new classes for a taster morning at their new school, and we walked round a rather dingy three bed semi for rent, a bit like our old one but not so nice. We are in transition. We are always in transition, just sometimes it’s more obvious than others. This time last year we were making the change from a family of four plus cat to a family of five. The cat is currently on holiday but we hope he’ll come back and be our “plus cat” again. We miss him.

Maybe that’s the trickiest thing about times of transition. You don’t quite know what you’ll miss when the change comes, you also know you’ll never get there, which is to say that you never get to a place of no change, at least not this side of the Big Box.

It did feel like a lot was changing today. Myrtle was pleased to be in purple rather than green. She still seems so small but she set her chin purposefully and in she went. What a fantastic thing, to watch your children face a challenge and have what they need to take it on and come out the other side, smiling. They both had a good morning at their new school. Myrtle found a girl who shares her birthday so obviously they will be friends. I think it was harder for Red; he’s going into year five where the friendships are firmer and the new children will always feel new. He is one of three new starters in his class which may help, and the teachers didn’t put the new kids together which is a good sign. They felt welcome, and Red’s class had a discussion about a book we have at home (The Giving Tree) so he was well prepared.

I am so relieved and very thankful. They are going to be OK. It’ll get harder, but won’t ever seem quite so scary again. And they turned out to be resilient and courageous. It wasn’t too much. It won’t be for me either.

Still waiting on the land.

Monotony and Contentment

Someone once said (to me) that they crave monotony and so they would hate to do what we are doing. This has played on my mind a bit, and led me on to thinking about contentment.

On the spectrum of monotony vs novelty (I spent some time wondering what the opposite of monotony was. This is my best guess so far.) I reckon I fall on the side of novelty, but not near the extreme end. Change can be good, it can be fun to try new things. But if life is in a comfortable place it can be a change for the worse. Hard to know until the change happens. I would say, I like my novelty in bite sizes portions. When we discovered we were having Birch we both thought of all the changes this would bring, including moving house. It was much more manageable in terms of brain power to decide to manage one change at a time. Turns out we were right about all the changes that would follow, but one at a time is enough.

It is probably a good thing that Ben loves novelty and change. When I told him about the monotony conversation he was pretty much aghast. Crave stability, certainty, consistency, but not monotony! Another word for boring. Music without tune or harmony. Not really music at all.

I think what change brings, and what not changing protects against, is not knowing how you’re going to get through the day. One of the biggest challenges when I had Red as a new baby was not knowing when he would sleep (not really ever), when it would be possible to both boil a kettle and drink a cup of tea. There was nothing predictable in our day so it was really hard to pace myself, navigate a route from beginning to end. Before a big change, it’s a bit the same, you don’t know the shape of your day so it’s hard to envisage getting safely through it. However, since having Red we have moved house four times so far. What you learn is that there is no escaping monotony. There’s no running away from it. Whatever place you’re in, there will be the same jobs to do, the same routine. It takes a few weeks of heavy sat nav use to find your way around and then the roads are familiar, the coffee tastes the same.

There is importance in noticing these things. If we were doing this to escape monotony we will fail to escape. If we think this path in and of itself leads to contentment we will find we are wrong. This is excellent news. Contentment is a decision which can be taken at any point. We don’t need to finish in order to get there. If we wait until then, it will elude us. If we can achieve it now, it will travel the road with us.

For contentment to travel at our side we need to accept the monotonous and provide the harmony for ourselves. This is something Ben is really great at. It is something to strive for and to enjoy as a choice.

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.

Boy jobs, girl jobs?

Before we completed the sale on our old house we had to have identity checks to make sure we were not laundering money. They asked me questions about the mortgage. I got them wrong. I don’t know about the mortgage, Ben handles that. So I had to get my passport certified to confirm I have not yet developed a way of illegally making lots of money.

This got me wondering and a bit worrying. It seems old fashioned to be some kind of “kept” woman, but not in a good way. I certainly don’t like to think of myself that way. Images of that “boy jobs and girl jobs” interview that Theresa May gave flashed through my mind. I definitely don’t see us that way.

I’ve been reading a bit lately about mental load. This is the thing that makes doing the shopping easy but writing the shopping list really difficult. I think this is the thing that results in the over whelmed that I mentioned the other day. It’s the brain power required to have an overview of family life so that the swimming things are ready on Thursday, the meals are planned through the week and are suitable for the people who are going to be eating them. It’s remembering when the bins go out and knowing that Myrtle has a school trip on Tuesday, whilst Red’s trip was last week but he has a concert on Tuesday as well. It’s shopping around for the best utility services and managing the mortgage. And that’s why we don’t divide the work of family life along gender lines, or any other lines. We do what we can and between us everything gets done. Everything essential anyway.

I’m very aware that at least at the moment the work is not divided equally. Ben has a full time job, and does the mortgage stuff, the bills, takes the kids up to school, gets up in the night with Birch (not so much lately, yay!) and often helps with the laundry (not the money kind). I do as much as I can and flop into bed at the end of the day. But that’s what it is to be part of a family. You do the best you can, you don’t compare, everything that’s important gets done, not important stuff gets relegated until tomorrow.

My ignorance about the mortgage is not something to be ashamed about although I’ll admit to feeling both embarassed and amused. I don’t need to spend my mental energy on something Ben has got covered. I know enough that if something awful happened I could navigate it at that point. For now there’s plenty to be getting on with. And that’s life.

Bats and Newts

Tonight we are having a bat survey done on the land and derelict house. If there are lots of bats we might have to hold off on demolishing the house until they finish doing their bat things, which I think is September time. Not a huge delay but another bit of waiting. A good opportunity for Ben to spend time in the field, watch the sunset. This is more important than it might sound. A really interesting thing about building a house is working on the design. Houses that are built by large scale developers are typically generic; they choose from a selection of designs that are essentially the same or at least based on a common theme. The results are the new (and not that new) estates that are everywhere. If you don’t have to make lots of decisions about design the whole thing is a lot quicker and cheaper. But it starts to get really interesting when you think about how you could design it.

Ben has been reading a really interesting book about house design and it’s got us thinking about how we use space and how we would like to use it. It’s hard to predict how our family will be in five or ten years time but we’ve got some clear ideas that we think might be important in the design of the house.

One idea that has been interesting is the concept that it’s good to have shared spaces, spaces shared by some, and private spaces. A children’s realm, a kingdom of adults and an expanse for everyone. Obviously at some point we have to put our ideas into a real physical space which is not “materially larger” than the really pretty small house that’s currently on the site. We can think of details later. For today we’ve been talking about the children’s realm. Maybe a 1.5 height part of the house with a shared playroom/sitting/social space. It might work well to have a mezzanine for the bigger children to sit and hang out with friends and the lower level for things like train tracks and lego cities..

Off the shared space the children could each have an alcove bedroom with a high bed tucked in the rafters and underneath space for themselves. I’m pretty sure Red would like a door to his, I think Myrtle might prefer it open, until she’s big enough to prefer privacy to closeness. Up to her I think we’d have one bedroom for all of us. That’s not how Red feels about it.

Once you look outside of the conventional box, there are so many different ways to do things. Which doesn’t necessarily make it easy to decide what to do.

We had an exciting trip to Bristol this week. We’ve found the right person to take us on: Tom at Roundwood design. We had a look around his yard and some of the designs he has completed and saw lots of big, round larch trees ready to become houses. Maybe our house. They have taken 70 years to grow. Our house has been longer in the making than I was aware of. And it’ll be made of good, beautiful stuff.

The outcome of the survey was that there was one bat. Just one. Enough to probably need some kind of licence, but possibly a smaller, cheaper kind than if there were loads of bat’s. We should name him.

Turns out it’s newts you have to worry about. If there are newts we might have to wait for a year to get a licence to live alongside them. Really hoping there aren’t newts. There don’t seem to be newts. Just a lonesome bat.

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.