Guilt/Pleasure

Yes we’re still on this subject even 3 days later. 

Yesterday K and I had a day off – together. This doesn’t happen often as we tend to keep K’s annual leave for family holidays but he had a couple of days to use up before the end of the month. We’ve been toying all week with where to go and what to do. 

I always have an image in my mind of wandering cobbled streets looking in shop windows followed by lunch in a pretty pub garden in the countrysidep. The reality is normally always a trip to Bicester to K’s Mecca of the Ralph Lauren shop followed by a sandwich in Costa. 

As no voucher was forthcoming for the RL shop K agreed that we could go somewhere else. My image of cobbled streets became less misty, until he suggested we pop down the M1 to Wembley where there is a shopping outlet. Ok not many cobbled streets in Wembley. But it’s his day off (I get one every Friday so I’m feeling generous) and I feel he should do what he would like to do. 

I always feel bad when we go out alone. I always worry that one of the children will be taken ill at school and we will have to hotfoot it back from where we’ve gone while our child is unwell and wondering where we are.  Us feeling like awful parents for not being 5 minutes away. I spend my time regularly checking my mobile for missed calls or texts. 

Whilst “relaxing” and wandering around the shops I find myself drawn to things that the children would like. Hairbands for A, hoodies for T, cakeboxes and trainers. Oh and A needs new PE shorts for school and T needs a geometry set. Er, hello? Guilt? Could you please bugger off so I can look at these shoes for a minute? 

We had a lovely lunch in a homemade burger place (again not my first choice but is his day) – lamb burger in a pitta with salad and feta – yum. But conversation went much like this “it’s nice here. Kids would like it. Quite reasonable too.” 

Picked A up from school. Met T in Harpenden to collect new glasses. Milkshakes from Nice to start the weekend then home. 

Guilty pleasures

Don’t panic I’m not going all Fifty Shades of Grey on you. I know it’s a surprising title from someone like me, but it’s not what you think. 

I was in the office today and as usual we had the radio on. Radio 2 is still the favoured channel and it was Steve Wright’s slot. We were all engrossed in our various tasks, working quietly, until……Young Guns by Wham! came on. Immediately, we all started singing along and scarily knew all the words. My colleague started laughing and said something like “who would have thought we’d all be closet Wham! fans – talk about guilty pleasure!”. 

Indeed I used to be a dedicated Wham! fan and had the required records, posters, magazines, etc that any self-respecting teen would have. But back then it wasn’t seen as anything to be embarrassed about. Obviously, if I’d still got the records, posters, etc it would be a tad shameful. I promise you I don’t. Guides honour. 

Her comment got me thinking though. Do I have any guilty pleasures? I don’t smoke or drink much (book club doesn’t count!); I like the odd bit of chocolate but who doesn’t?! I don’t buy clothes that I don’t wear; I don’t play the lottery. How boring am I?  

Hang on though. I suppose I should admit to watching trashy American TV programmes while I’m working at home. (When I say watching I actually mean listening to, as I have the iPad on and just let it whitter away in the background.) And I mean total trash. The latest is called Revenge. It’s absolute, utter tosh. But it doesn’t take much effort to follow and it doesn’t need me to be able to watch, just listen. Brilliant. 

I also like playing stupid, addictive games on my phone. Bursting bubbles and popping sweets. What’s not to love? 

Ooh, and quizzes. I love quizzes. The ones that people post on Facebook with spellings and grammar questions or the true meaning of your name. Love it. 

What else? Er, not much actually. 

But I’ll always have Wham! (*) 

(* exclamation mark is part of the name, as a true fan I can’t type it without it I’m afraid. A bit like Westward Ho!) 

Postcard

We don’t get much communication from Roundwood – we get enough. The children are expected to tell us stuff and we get a weekly newsletter. Parents evening is well organised and informative. And of course there’s the regular formal reports. 

I was at first bemused and subsequently thrilled to see this plop on the doormat this morning. My initial thought was that T’s friend, who is currently on the French part of the French exchange programme, had sent him a postcard. But then I wondered why it was from the French department. Bemused, as I said. Turning over all became clear and a big smile ensued. Well done T. And well done Roundwood – what a great idea. 

    

Why I love weekends

I feel guilty for wishing my week days away but I do love weekends. I remarked to K while we were “glamping” how much I love our family time now that the kids are older. He immediately disagreed and insisted how much he loved it when they were little, that they were cute and funny, etc. I think he was wearing the proverbial rose-tinted specs. Yes, they were funny (they still are) and cute (ok not strictly “cute” now but smart and bright and sweet) but they were also bloody hard work. 

Now they’re older they chat about interesting things, have real opinions and challenge decisions. I love this. I didn’t want children who just accepted what they were told. I didn’t want little mini versions of us (cos we’re quite boring!) and I’m glad they’re not. Yes, T is without doubt his fathers son but mainly in looks and some mannerisms. He’s far more sensitive and thoughtful. I hurt my finger yesterday and he raced into the house after me to see if I was ok while K just carried on doing what he was doing. 

But I digress. 

Weekends. We made a sort of pact a while back that we would avoid having to go to the shops at weekends wherever possible. We agreed that we should try and do at least one thing that involved all of us being together and that we all enjoyed. And since the children have been older this has got easier. We can watch films that are actually quite enjoyable. We can go to places that require an element of decent behaviour and patience. We can eat in places that don’t have play areas or children’s menus. We can go for ten mile bike rides and walks without someone making a big fuss and ruining it (well, sometimes). 

Today, we cycled from the house to Studham and then on to Gaddesden Row and Flamstead. I drew the short straw and had to be patient mum, encouraging mum, bringing up the rear behind A who needs lots of reassuring and geeing up when the path gets even slightly more than dead flat. But she did really well and I actually meant most of what I said. I even managed to cycle up the fabled “killer hill” that T and K battled with on one of their previous outings without us. I couldn’t give up after telling A that she should keep going. It nearly killed me but I did it. 

We got back and T had already opened up the house and got the garage door up ready for the bikes. They got themselves showered and then helped sort lunch. It all seems a far cry from the days of having to plan with military precision and take turns to go for a pee while the other looked after the child(ren). 

I know that we’re entering the dreaded teenage years and times are going to be tough. I know I’m going to wish they were helpless babies that can’t answer back and can’t leave my sight, when they’re stroppy and argumentative. But for now I’m just enjoying their company and making the most of every moment that they’re still happy to spend with me. 

Weekends are very precious. 

Moments

Had a break from blogging for a couple of days. 

I’ve been reading a book that I picked up for a bargain price in WHSmith last weekend. T was a bit alarmed by the title “When God was a rabbit” as he thought it was a religious story. It wasn’t. It was a brilliant story about growing up in the seventies, being a misfit, the bonds of friendship and family. I loved it and was very engrossed in it to the point where I couldn’t think of anything else, like blogging. Tsk tsk. 

All is well in the Beddoe household. It is the weekend – hurrah and the sun is shining. The possibilities are endless. Well, sort of! 

It was grandad’s birthday yesterday so we popped round after school with cake (by our new resident baker) and presents. He was thrilled with both. He’s the best. 

  

Mindful

Today A came out of school buzzing with excitement about the Mindfulness session her class was given this afternoon. She hasn’t stopped talking about the various methods they were taught and she was determined to share them with me. They are doing a six week course so I expect there will be more tips and techniques as she goes on but the ones from today were very interesting. It all involved breathing and being aware of your breathing and how it can help you deal with stressful situations.

I found it very interesting that the children were asked to rate their feelings of wellbeing – first using a tree which has figures at various positions: some sitting at the bottom, others further up, one falling off and some sitting midway; and another using a version of the Edinburgh survey (like the one they give new mums to check for depression but more geared up for kids). A positioned herself midway up the tree but standing up and looking ahead, and she was mostly positive on the survey. I was pleased about this as she has been having some issues again at school and is a little subdued at times. I was particularly happy that she answered “all the time” to the question “do you feel loved”.

We’ve practised the breathing techniques this evening and have decided we will do them each night and hopefully make ourselves feel more relaxed by bedtime (we both have trouble sleeping from time to time).

My favourite part is a saying they were taught and rather than quote from my book tonight I’m going to use this instead – “Yesterday is history; tomorrow is a mystery; today is the present and that’s a gift”.

Buddha

No, I’m not going to start chanting and I’m not being rude about K (he’s lost weight thank you very much!). I’m starting my new 100 Daily Inspirational Thoughts book and I’m going to share a quote with you.

“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” (Buddha).

This has made me think, a lot. I’ve always been a bit wary of being overtly “happy”. I don’t know why or where this comes from, but as a child I was always worried about “showing off” and I think that I equated being outwardly, overly happy with being a show off. Look at me my life’s perfect and I’ve not a care in the world. Err. No one likes a show off. I’ve spoken before about my natural tendency towards pessimism and I think these go hand in hand. We’re not a family of braggers, we always downplayed any good fortune (can’t think of a specific occasion but we generally didn’t show off) and tried to be modest about achievements. But equally if someone asks any of us how we are we will all say “fine thanks” even if we feel like a dogs dinner. So, not overtly happy, happy but not miserable the-end-of-the-world-is-nigh either.

So, back to good old Buddha. He’s saying that it costs us nothing to share our happiness. It costs nothing to smile at someone in the street and say good morning. But is that what he means? Or is he saying that if you feel happy you should tell someone? For example, I get some good news about my job and I tell my friend. Would that make them happy? I suppose if they’re a good friend then they’d be happy for me, but does it make them happy themselves?

Or is it just a case of being happy and it rubbing off on people? Let’s face it no one likes a misery guts who’s always complaining about this and that or being negative about everything all the time (I refer you back to the Hawkins “I’m fine” blanket response to the “how are you?” question). Yes, we all have our moments and bad days affect even the most upbeat person, but being around an inherently negative person must be draining. Equally someone who is constantly perky and upbeat must be a bit tiring (tiresome?)

Happy medium. Middle ground. That’s what’s needed, isn’t it? Friends you can laugh until you cry with, be silly with and know that they won’t expect you to always be like that. Friends that can listen to you moan about the trivial (and sometimes more substantial) gripes and groans of your day and not hold it against you and think of you as a misery guts. Friends that can just smile at you and make you feel better even if you weren’t feeling bad in the first place.

And yes, maybe just smiling at someone randomly in the street. They’ll either think it’s nice and maybe try it themselves or they’ll think you’re a nutter and tell someone to make them laugh. Win, win.

Thanks Buddha.