Becoming a wiser woman and wild swimming!

Turning fifty suggests it may be time to be wise
Perhaps now folk will perceive me as wise.
Some peace would be nice. I am sat here writing with a glass of wine with boys fffffing this and shut the ffff up at each other, lovely man hides who can blame him?
After the stress of moving I had a lovely birthday celebration. A storm, thunder lightening gave way to sunshine and sparkling wine. Friends came from years gone by and new neighbours, dancers drummers poets and painters, lovely close friends.
Cut back to this evening we are preparing to go on holiday. I am slipping into endeavouring to pack everything for all eventualities and this makes me think this is how I have been. I have spent this whole move anticipating the need. The want and wanting to fix the discord the upset the mess. I have tried to create equilibrium for others. Neither smallish boy, large boy, smallish girl nor lovely man needs me to be a fixer or straightener of kinks or curves or turns or rumpled bits. They quite like a bit of banter and a bit if mess to sort.
So back to wise woman bit and indeed birthday celebrations. Lots of messages and indications that I need to deep breathe and be still. A birthday gift was to arrive at a beautiful spot in south Shropshire and wild swim. Please note I do not clambour or dive so slight apprehension. Indeed I had to go purchase proper swim costume that had length of leg. I was tempted to seek out swim cap and goggles. The day was bliss. Wild swimming in a beautiful lake was wonderful, especially as the experience involved close friends and post swim cake and Prosecco. I was given poetry and a lovely walk in a wood, time to be calm and replenish batteries.
Roll into Saturday night and phone call to inform me large boy is 18 and very drunk. Thank heavens for wonderful friends to rescue him in my old town in his hour of need and still laugh about it. A birthday gift indeed.
So back to now and we have been packing for our annual dance camp with wonderful friends. I have just cried as smallish boy wants to take huge painting canvas and he cannot fathom that this is perhaps not reasonable or realistic. It is his coping strategy. He needs the canvas to paint in case. I want to make it alright but canvas is too large. He needs to paint away his anxiety with a painting. I cry and we compromise on a shop in the morning for smaller canvases, and he prints a new painting drawing to undertake.
Lovely man hides lying down in the dark. He has Fez, ukulele, pants and socks ready to pack.
I pour more wine, find myself a sketchbook to take, write this, listen to the fffffing subside and breathe…… lovely man get s up to fix tent pole… He is a lovely man who fixes things and I love living in our home x

Moving with so many shoes!

The last time I blogged seems a lifetime ago. In reality it is. I feel like I have left my old life to embark on this new one. Sitting in the garden, lovely man preparing barbecue it seems idyllic but gosh was it a rocky road to get here.

If anyone says to me in the future what is your worst trait? I shall answer simply- I think I am wonder woman with super human powers. In the last month for some daft reason I decided to move house with no removal men and no help. Thank goodness for one special friend who had the good sense to just come around, pack and clean and teen boys who just pushed lifted and moved whilst lovely man orchestrated said move.

For me it pushed me physical to my edge of tiredness but what I wholly underestimated was how emotional I would be. I love my new home, my lovely man and my new life with all my heart but oh finishing my old life was so very hard. At one point I finally caved in stopped and booed my eyes out. I felt so much better afterwards and here I now am. But it is done now and this week I am mostly calm!

I have been so worried about the boys moving and how they would cope. They funnily enough have binned out their past and happily settled into their new spaces. I suppose as teen boys they are very much in “themselves” and very able to ensure their needs are met. As long as these are met which I suspect is food, mummy love and computer/ internet connection, a bed and for large boy cider they are happy.

As grownups lovely man and I take longer to adjust. I come with suitcases and boxes of stuff. He is a minimalist. I keep fabric and paint, scarves for whooshing, and naturally have a wardrobe dedicated to fancy frocks and dressing up and all things belly dance. There was indeed a low moment of a “suitcase too far” of stuff. Naturally I think I have seriously compromised by giving away vintage dresses and donating at least 20 pairs to charity. Lovely man doesn’t understand the notion of twenty pairs of shoes for different time and places and the need for fripperies. ( This includes a headdress of flowers, morrocan lamps, sparkly scarves and a tiara- what is not to like?) .

Of course there is neither place for shoes nor no place for throws and cushions yet they have arrived. My lovely man will take time to share his home with eclectic creative me who has so many pieces of memories. He likes uncluttered space. I like lovely memories and colour.

The other mad bonkers moment in all of this is how fond one can become over a saucepan or fork!

Utter madness! But you know what? The kids really don’t care. We now have a girl in the mix too. She laughs as can see dad is struggling with the colourful take over. She is happy with her own space and company when she wants it. She knows that when we calm down we will all be fine.

What lovely man really needs is his shed. He needs his own bit of calm man space. We bought him one the other week. Only problem is it is currently filled with boxes of my stuff. I dare not go look. It is full of art materials, mad art work from the past and dusty weird nik naks! So for now I will not touch and am contemplating rather than a fence perhaps a row of sheds?

All kids want is the love and to know they are safe. Lovely man and I can do that x