We’ve been doing lots. Lots of maths, some outings (I’ve to blog our first trip on the train to London!), golf, swimming (of course) and just pottering around town and the house. Oh and there’s the new allotment 😉
So that’s a bit of a coming soon preview, but for tonight, I just want to be me.
To not talk about children particularly, or home education, or politics, or reviews. Because this blog is my space, space that it can be difficult to find sometimes when you live and work and educate all in one place.
My running gives me a little time, but it’s not really thinking time. Not when the main thing I’m concentrating on is not falling over my own feet and whether or not I can face adding an extra few hundred yards on, and if I’m getting faster, or slower, and whether it’s going to rain.
No, not really thinking time.
And during the day, during the everyone around I’m mummy before I’m me, constantly encouraging, negotiating, reinforcing, helping, teaching, cheerleading and thinking. Because if I walk down the road with Small I have to be thinking for him as well as for me, if I ask for something to be done around the house I’ve to think precisely of what I want to happen, if we’re going to eat it’s got to be my plan and just occasionally, I get really really tired of it.
So I escape. I escape to blogs, I escape to twitter. Sometimes, forgive me my friends, I can’t even find the strength in me to chat with the ppl I know best, the ppl who have been here all along. Because so many of us seem to be having such a terribly awful time of it for one reason or another, and I’m not right now. No, everything isn’t perfect, but it’s a lot better than it’s been for a good few years, and I feel almost guilty for feeling happy. (Not that that is anyone’s fault but my own, obviously!)
And then I feel almost guilty for feeling happy because I remember Katrin, or I remember the miscarriages and I worry that if I give in to happiness somehow I’ll invite disaster.
Which is silly. But very difficult to shake off.
So I bury myself in competitions and tweet conversations of 140 characters. You’d think it would be hard to get emotional in a tweet.
But it isn’t. And there is stress and unhappiness all around, and sometimes, just sometimes, I start to run low on the hugs and the thoughts and the caring that I like to send out to my imaginary and real friends out there.
But even when I can’t send you strength, please know that I am thinking of you. I am caring. I might be past typing, I might be hiding from the baby for a quick sob in the bedroom like I had to do this evening, but you are all still here with me.
Ooh, I found some more. Here you go. (((())))
Goodnight.
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