Big Birthdays.

We had a big birthday in the house last week, my first born has finally reached his long awaited 13th birthday.  I have a teenager in the house once again.

I had to take a quick picture of this as we took him his birthday breakfast in bed, This little sign was on a birthday card from a dear friend last year saying Watch out almost a teenager, as you can see he had popped out of bed while we were downstairs and scribbled out the almost and put A teenager.

Here he is enjoying his breakfast. you might just about make out our flying puppy dog trying to get a little closer to that brekky!

We planned a quiet day, he had already been out a couple of weekends before hand to celebrate with some friends to a theme park without parental supervision for the first time!

It is very strange approaching this age with a young person again.  The last time was when we had my niece living with us, the first birthday she had with us was 13, 10 months after she arrived.  So much has happened since then.  The difference this time is that I have been been there from the beginning with my first born.  From our bed to moses basket, from moses basket to cot, from cot to child's bed, from child's bed to his current single bed.  Hopefully there will be no more beds while he is at our home but many more birthdays still to come.

I am so proud and thankful of all that he has brought into our lives and pray that he will bear with us as we try to navigate through his teenage years with him.

This is the yummy, chocolate, fudge toffee cake that my 11 year old daughter made for him

she has got a little longer to wait, though is quite desperate to get there already!  Hopefully we can help her to wait patiently and enjoy the 17 months she still has before she gets there!

Overcoats.

It has been a difficult month so far.  As a family we have just had the first anniversary of my fathers very sudden unexpected death.  It has got me thinking about grief as it has rather enveloped me more than at any other time since he died.

I was doing some reading a little while ago on the Internet (unfortunately I now cannot find what I read).  However it likened grief to wearing an old tatty overcoat.  This resonated straight away with me as it made me think of my mum.  Since my dad died she has been constantly wearing his old waterproof coat.  It is tatty, it does not do up properly, but it was his.  I did manage to persuade her to purchase herself a new one about 6 months ago however even now she seldom wears it.  However she does occasionally.

It seems to come very easy (natural?) to try and coax people out of their grief.  Just like I did with my mum and her coat.  However grief is something that we need to go through and if you use the metaphor of it being like an overcoat you can take it further.  If you don't wear your overcoat, it stays the same, if you wear it well, it slowly starts to wear out.  This might mean that it gets shabbier but this will encourage you to consider the new overcoat that might some day need to replace it.

My experience of grief is that I have not felt 'able' to wear my overcoat.  It is not attractive, it is drab, it does not make other people feel comfortable when I wear it.  However I am trying to grasp hold of the 'need' to wear it.  Hopefully with time I my overcoat might start to wear out.

It has been far too long since I have written down any blessings, but through these dark days there are still many many blessed moments.

830. Swimming a mile for the first time in one go.
831. Watching a film in a cosy warm house.
832. Sales starting to happen on my Folksy site.
833. Kissing my husband in the rain.
834. Autumn sunlight in the garden.
835. Lovely pumpkins ripening in the garden.
836. A meal with friends with dishes I had prepared and frozen so that I was not too exhausted for their company.
837. Encouraging my youngest to spread her wings and watching her fly on a band weekend away.
839. Godly blogs that bring his word and wisdom when I can't get to church.

Simple Days

Life is seems to be starting to slow down into a simpler routine than when I was working.  On the whole my days go by at a much more gentle pace.  I am managing to get to the swimming pool three times a week with my mum, and have built up to swimming 1100m each time (that's 44 lengths of our pool) which takes me between 40 and 50 minutes depending on how many lengths I do on my back.  These are the only set activities I presently have.

Tuesday and Thursday are my non swimming days, last Tuesday felt like a break through.  The first day when I felt as though I was able to do all that I wanted to do.  I spent the morning doing some crochet after a quick catch up on facebook, twitter and blogger and checking e-mails.  After lunch I made supper for me and the children (husband was working an afternoon shift) so that it could go in the oven as my daughter has her saxophone lesson from 5.30 to 6pm.  I then did some more crochet, managing to finish off a second pair of wrist warmers/fingerless mittens for one of my God-daughters and one of my nieces.  These were then ready to package up and sent through the post BEFORE their birthdays!

When my children arrived home from school there was time for a catch up with them and we then had notice that my daughters saxophone lesson had been cancelled.  The one activity I had not managed was walking the dog so this gave me the ideal opportunity to go and do that AND to go to the local shop at the same time to get milk which we were running low on and I had noticed!

Supper was ready when I got back, I put bread on to bake in the bread maker and the day was rounded off nicely with a bit of TV with the children. An early bed when my son went up meant I could read the very good book I got on my Kindle last week, you can see what it is here.  I can highly recommend the book, I have been introduced to the author on facebook via another author friend and this is the first book of hers I have read - a very gripping historical tale.

What made this day quite so perfect?  My husband coming in from work at 10.30pm, popping his head around the bedroom door and making a lovely comment about how nice the house smelt as the bread was almost ready for him to take out :o).  Sometimes it really is the simple things.

My Alter Ego

My alter ego Mrs Craftypants has been very busy this last few weeks, take a look at her latest post over on her blogspot here.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Neglect

                                                    Hengistbury Head, Dorset, August 2012.

I haven't purposely been neglecting my blog, it's just sort of happened!  Over the summer holidays I was purposely trying to spend more time with my family doing things than sitting on my computer.  However there is another little venture that has been taking up any spare time - I have opened a shop on the folksy site - if you are interested in taking a peek you can find it by following this link.  I am still to make a sale yet but trying very hard not to get disheartened.

We did manage to have some very exciting adventures over the summer, including a trip to Paris and Switzerland!  We managed to get to the paralympics in the stadium and watched a GB wheelchair racer get a gold medal!  There have been some days at the beach despite the overall terrible weather we have had.

My niece has now finally been released from the secure forensic psychiatric unit she has been in since the end of December and seems to be settling in her new children's home.  It is about a 60 mile round trip to go and see her but we are trying to maintain regular contact.  She is going to be starting college hopefully in the next few weeks, skipping year 11 of school as she has missed so much, so that will be another great achievement for her.

My mum is still trying to decide whether she wants to stay down in the south or move back to the east midlands.  I would love to be able to help her make this decision but unfortunately it is one she has to make herself.  I will miss her if she goes back, but want her to be where she might find some happiness.

My health continues to be up and down, having all the focus on the paralympics this last few weeks has been difficult.  I find myself feeling very jealous that some people with disabilities are able to find great things to excel in, whereas for me I just see all the obstacles, not just health probs but money ones too!  IU am trying to keep up with my swimming, though this has been difficult over the summer holidays as the pool is so full of children, I have taken the opportunity to take my daughter a few times though.  At the moment I have pulled a muscle in my neck which is very very painful and restricting, probably brought on by tensing my shoulders after walking too much and getting painful legs at the weekend!

So I will try and remedy the neglect that has occurred to this poor old blog and catch up with all my fellow bloggers who I have also been neglecting!  Thanks for bearing with me!

A Book Review

My mum passed on a book to me last week, warning me that I might find it a tough subject as it dealt with a damaged young girl in the foster care system.  To be honest I was very surprised that she had been able to read it.  The book in question is Crying For Help by Casey Watson.  I read the whole book in a day.  I am not sure this is testament to a great story or just the fact that I had been bed bound for much of last week.

I would not normally look at books in this genre, mostly because anything that is strictly fictional I would probably end up trying to find faults with.  However this book is based on real experiences that the author has had in her other life as a foster carer for seriously damaged children.

The lack of information coming forward from social services, difficulty with children and adolescent mental health services was all too familiar to the scenario that we went through when we were kinship caring for my niece.  The behaviour of the child in question 'Sophia' was so similar in many many ways to our experience, as was the roller coaster ride of not knowing what could possibly happen next as we lurched from crisis to crisis.

There was one point in the story where I became quite angry with the presumptions the foster carer was making about the child's family.  She had no father, her mother was in a persistent vegetative state and she had lived with her uncle for a while until him and his wife became first time parents of a newborn.  The situation of not being able to really KNOW what had happened to the child in the past because of the state of the mother and lack of social services intervention was very similar to the situation we found ourselves in.  The not knowing for sure whether stories are true, based on truth, or imagined/made up is very difficult.  In the author's case she seemed to believe the stories Sophia told her and judged the family quite severely.  I so felt for the uncle, as the story unfolds it becomes apparent that if a professional struggles with Sophia's problems, how was a first time kinship carer supposed to manage them.   I can just imagine how difficult the decision to hand her over to social services must have been.  This book has confirmed that which I already knew - there will be people who come into contact with my niece who will be judging me in the same way.  That is hard to live with.  Though there is nothing I can do about it so there is really no point dwelling on it.

The book is a great story and it did keep me gripped, however I did not really feel that the writing gave it justice - or maybe that is just me getting my own back having felt judged!  The jury is still out on whether I would read another of her books, I certainly would not rush to get another.

Today I am also continuing to count my blessings with Ann Voskamp:

820.  Better drugs giving me pain relief from my back problem.

821.  Unexpected cards in the post from caring friends.

822.  The delivery of some on-line shopping which has helped me be a little less bored in my bed bound state.

823.  Blue sky!

824. Happy daughter as she finished her primary school years.

825. Reading through a years worth of books and papers from her last year at school.

826. Books to read.

827. A husband that has to put up with far too much.

828. A little pumpkin starting to grow in my veg patch.

829. White roses and Gypsophila growing in my garden reminding me of my wedding flowers.

It's all so quiet - shhhh shhhh shhhh

The song from bonkers Icelandic singer Bjork is going round in my head this morning as my house is soooooo quiet.

When you can hear a tick from the pendulum of a clock, the sound of your own steady breathing, every creak of the bed or seat you are sitting on you know you have found quietness.

I just love it. 

I know if I go outside it will not be quite so quiet.  There will be bird song and fluttering leaves as the squirrels go about their business in the woods besides us.  There will be the sounds of people jetting off to foreign climbs.  Children playing in gardens around us.  Car doors opening and closing.

It is so tempting to stay curled up in my indoor cocoon.  The sounds in the outdoors I know will make me want to do something.  Especially when the sun has finally come out after so many months of rain.  Yesterday they talked me into a little gardening, a little pegging of washing on the line.  Today my body is telling me too much. 

Will I ever learn to go be amidst the sounds of life and not be tempted to try and join them?

I remarked to my husband this morning as he took the children off to a church service where they will be playing their instruments, that soon he might start getting the sympathetic looks and offerings of casseroles as people think he is bringing up the children alone.

One thing I can do in this quiet however is go through my daughters final year of primary school life.  Over this week the coffee table has become more and more laden with books, folders, pictures and projects.  I will look at every single one.  I will recall the stories she has told me of things that she did on a particular school day and enjoy seeing what she was describing.

I'm sad that I couldn't make it to her leavers assembly where each child gets presented with a bible.  I'm sad that even if she had wanted me to I couldn't have walked to fetch her on her final day at the school she has been at for the last seven years.  The school that first drew us to come and look at houses in this area.  The school that we noticed was right next to a church, I still remember the day that we pulled up into the school/church car park one Sunday morning.  We heard a trombone playing and there and then felt God calling us to a new home.

But dwelling on that makes me melancholy - too many sad things have happened in these last seven years.

For now I shall go and make myself a cup of tea (at least I can move around reasonably pain free at the moment) and settle down with the books and folders, pictures and projects.

xx