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

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