The End of Summer

The end of the summer is a sad time for me.

I love having my kids home from school - lazy mornings, carefree days, relaxed bedtimes. As much as I am excited by the new term and in particular my little Dylan starting in his Reception class, I can't help the overriding feeling of gloom that the holidays are over.

Beneath that general gloominess is a deeper sadness - a sadness that comes from bereavement.

My sister lost her life at the end of a summer distant enough for the raw pain of grief to have subsided but never distant enough to not feel the ache of her absence.

And this time last year my mother in law died - unexpectedly and suddenly.

Despite a tendency towards depressive episodes, I am generally a positive person who sees the good in things. I wanted to help my husband find a way to commemorate the anniversary of his mum's death in a celebratory fashion. We had a few ideas that included trifle and family card games but none of it really felt adequate.

That evening, as I put my little boy to bed with a bedtime story, I realised that the book I had chosen by chance (or cosmic guidance?) was one that had been given with love by Grandma. I felt very peaceful reading the story and remembering the time when Grandma's voice spoke these same words to the rapt attention of the beautiful boy now drifting off to sleep. That was my moment. My celebration. My connection to a wonderful lady sorely missed.

My husband said he had his moment too in the realisation that decisions he makes and actions he takes are now influenced by a voice in his head asking "Would this have made mum proud?".

There were tears. Not many... but enough.

The following day we took part in a Fun Run in a neighbouring village. There was a poignancy to it because last year when we took part, my husband had just returned from helping his dad to sort out funeral arrangements. He cycled the route with our daughter on a tag along trailer bike at the back and Dylan on a kid seat at the front of his bike. I'm sure the sun on his face, the fresh air and the excitement of the children were good antidotes to the solemnity of the tasks he had been performing. This year, there was a shorter 3K route option and we felt that the children should be capable of running it.

We collected our race numbers. Six year old Addy couldn't wait to get started but Dylan was not quite so keen. He was angered by the fact that his race number did not include the digit four - his age! I wrote a 4 on in biro but it did not placate him.

The plan was that my husband (with a bit of help from my daughter Taylor) would run the 3K route with Addy and Dylan while my daughter Liberty would run the 5mile route with me. Both routes started together. We all gathered at the starting line. Dylan's enthusiasm was returning - I had to physically hold him back to stop him crossing the line ahead of time. Eventually we were off.

I am so grateful that Taylor was there to help. Addy ran off at an astonishing pace that Dylan's little legs did not have a chance of keeping up with. Taylor and her lovely friend Harriet (twin sister of boyfriend George) took responsibility for Dylan, urging him on with the promise of smarties.

Meanwhile, Addy and her dad raced away - distracted occasionally by juicy blackberries growing in the hedgerows, ripe for the picking.

The weather was perfect - sunny but not unbearably hot.

Last year I found it tough to run the hilly course but this year I loved every mile and finished in a quicker time. I stayed with my daughter for the first 3 miles but picked my pace up slightly for the last two after she stopped to stretch aching muscles and walk for a moment. I found myself smiling as I ran along alone thinking about my mother in law and everything that has happened in the year since her death. I could believe that she was smiling back.

Taylor's boyfriend George crossed the finish at a pace I can only dream of.

Taylor and George

Once Dylan noticed the playground next to the finish line he lost all interest in the race and could only be persuaded to cross the line with Taylor and George's younger sister, Danielle, taking his weight whilst his legs ran ahead of his body.

He was, however, very pleased with his finishers medal.

To say that Addy was delighted to be presented with a trophy for her efforts would be a massive uderstatement. She posed proudly with other winners for the local press photographer.

It was a glorious day. A perfect end to the summer. And if the voice in my husband's head were to ask, Would this have made mum proud, I don't doubt that the answer would be YES.

Reasons to be Cheerful

ONE

The furious pace of my life has calmed down ever so slightly now that the pantomime Charis was performing in has finished. No more rehearsals running late into the night requiring pick ups, no more desperately tired Charis crawling out of bed post-noon on non school days.

She was amazing in the panto (oh no she wasn't!!!! - I hear you cry). Despite swollen glands I could still hear her beautiful voice when she sang in the chorus and she demonstrated such poise and precision in her dance routines it was hard to believe that she has never had any formal dance training. As for her role as a Sat Nat, the clarity and command that she conveyed in her lines, belied her tender years. I could not have been more proud.

TWO

In my previous marriage, I was not very lucky with my in-laws. Now, I am blessed with a wonderful mother and father-in-law who unfortunately for us, live some 5 hours away in Brighton. We visit when we can but it is not often enough. We talk on the phone but it is not the same as actually seeing them.

I decided last month that I would try and keep them more up to date with the things that are happening in our life by writing them a monthly newsletter. For a mummy blogger, it is second nature to talk about home life and family. I wrote it much as I would a blog post, illustrated with current photographs, printed it off and sent it.

I received an absolutely lovely letter back from  my mother-in-law today, saying how much she had loved it and appreciated. How she had read it many times already and knows that if she needs cheering up, it is right there for her to pick up and read again. It made me so incredibly happy to think that such a small gesture on my part meant so much to her. I am already mentally planning my February update.

THREE

The sun shone brightly enough today to go out without coats and to sit in my conservatory with the door thrown open wide while the kids played in the garden. I made the most of my time by knitting a few rows of the trauma bear I am making for the West Mercia Police Family Protection Unit. It's coming along really well and although tinged with sadness thinking about the poor child for whom it is intended and the horrors of child abuse, it still makes me happy that I can do this one small thing to offer a little comfort.

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Female Aggression

There were two women shouting and screaming at each other in the street today when I walked to pick up my daughter from nursery. Eyes were bulging, jaws clenched, fingers waving, personal space invaded. It wasn't pretty.

I was on the receiving end of such aggression from my ex mother in law once. I didn't respond with the same aggression. I remember feeling strangely detached, calm and above all, sorry for her. She would not be reasoned with and I think my passivity served to aggravate her anger further. The showdown culminated in her being carried away by her ashen faced husband. She was drooling from the mouth, eyes rolling in her head, incoherent. She was not a mentally stable woman and the outburst was fuelled by alcohol. I will never forget it.

I didn't manage to remain so detached when it came to arguments with my ex husband. He would infuriate me completely to the point that I would shout and scream and I am ashamed to admit, even hit him (although I doubt my blows caused anything resembling actual pain). I hated how it made me feel. So much frustration. So much banging my head against a proverbial brick wall. I hated even more that my children had to witness all this hostility (albeit through walls). I hated the person it made me and how my whole body would shake and the pitch of my voice alter to one I didn't even recognise.

Life is very different for me now. I love my husband deeply and when we have our differences we can work them out through talking and understanding. We both want the same things and we want them together. It makes everything so easy.

Don't get me wrong - I still scream and shout - only now it's with playful exuberance or mock horror at the X Factor! I like it very much better this way.

Ketchup with that?

My ex mother in law once berated me for owning a vibrator. She proudly stated that her sex life was perfectly good with her husband and she didn't need such things. I tried to explain that I didn't need  ketchup on my chips, but sometimes I like it. Her counter argument was to turn her nose up and herrumph!

So is it acceptable to have a healthy squirt of ketchup on your chips?

To extend the metaphor further, sometimes I like brown sauce, curry sauce, gravy or mayonnaise - and I am not ruling out the possibility that there are more delicious condiments out there that I have yet to discover.

I was intrigued when the opportunity to review adult products on my blog presented itself. It would certainly be a different sort of experience to trying out new baby beakers and the latest playground crazes. It would certainly take me outside my comfort zone!

I had all but talked myself out of it when I mentioned it to my family. They thought it was great  idea, especially when I explained that my 'mummy' hat would come off and a brand new persona would emerge in the form of "Dirty QWERTY".

Joking aside, I am now looking forward to the challenge. I am not planning on taking my blog in a whole new direction. It will hopefully be a discrete little sideline that might even throw open a few taboos and raise some interesting questions. My biggest fear is that I will not be able to stop giggling like a school girl!

I have received an email to say that a mystery parcel has been dispatched so I am holding onto my Dirty QWERTY hat and ready to roll with this whatever comes my way!