Word of the Week - 29th March 2014

I have read and enjoyed a few Word of the Week blog posts recently, including my sister-in-laws, and it is such a lovely idea I wanted to join in. (For those who don’t know Word of the Week is a weekly linky were you can reflect back on the past week and sum it up in one word).

So my first word of the week is:

PATIENCE

And my goodness me have I needed a lot of it this week. As mothers I think we all know that we could do with an unending supply, however this week has been a true test.

First CJ has been poorly. Always horrible when one of them is struck down by a bug, and time at nursery means they seem to be coming thick and fast. This time started with a phone call to come and collect her after a projectile vomit incident. Fever, lack of appetite and restless sleep have left her feel understandably miserable, and has made my already demanding 2 year old, exceptionally needy.

So it is not just me who has needed extra patience this week, IK has too. I always find it hard splitting my time fairly between the two girls, but when one is poorly and in need of extra attention, it becomes even more challenging. My big girl has coped admirably though, understanding the need to wait. She has learned over the past 20 months that I might not be able to help her immediately, but it will always get to her turn. She is also very good at helping me with little jobs, so she can have what she wants quicker!

One of my favourite quotes at the moment is

“Patience is not our ability to wait, but how we behave whilst we are waiting”

I think patience is such an important skill for my girls to learn. So much of what we want in life requires it to some degree or another, yet despite the frequent opportunities we get to practice it, how many of us can truly say we are patient? I know I am not. However, I want to be and I know that the best way to teach my children anything is by example.

Whether it has been waiting for the delivery man with the new bed, waiting on hold for plusnet to resolve my problem (which they haven’t!), or waiting for the girls to put their shoes on so we can leave the house, I have made a conscious effort to be calmer, to practice patience. So even after a stressful week at work, a poorly child and yet more wrangling with various organisations I feel surprisingly calm and in control, an unexpected outcome of trying to be more patient.   

Today was the Day

Today was the day shower was icy cold and I had to clamber into the loft to fiddle with the boiler

Today was the day I spilt the bag of used cat litter on the kitchen floor

Today was the day I left the five year old sobbing at the school gate, over emotional having been told off for pushing her sister off the step

Today was the day my tights got stuck by the velcroe on the five year old’s book bag, leaving a big hole.

Today was the day the nursery worker had to peal the two year old from me, screaming ‘mummy don’t leave me’ as I walked out the door.

Today was the day I forgot my coat in the rush to leave the house and then it poured with rain at School pick up time

Today was the day the two year old shredded half a roll of toilet paper

Today was the day she then scooped out the lip balm and smeared it round the toilet

Today was the day I bought the washing in wetter than in went out

Today was the day the two year old fell asleep on the sofa at 4pm

Today was the day more tea went in the bin than into tummies

Today was the day both girls went bed at 6pm

Today was the day the two year old decided that crying would be more fun than sleeping, before eventually nodding off on the landing.

Today was the day I decided having a glass of wine in the week was ok

A Change of Address

Moving in Stressful…..there are no two ways about it. It is well discussed and possibly the only thing in life I have experience that is worse,  is divorce. Last time I moved I was doing both. When the girls and I relocated one hundred and twenty miles north it was in the immediate aftermath of my marriage break up so the actual move was a drop in the ocean of my stress levels. I packed what we wanted and simply left the rest for the ex to do with as he pleased. That whole period of my life was such an emotional strain that I rather foolishly believed this move would be relatively stress-less, after all this was a move for all the right reason, something I had chosen to do, a positive step forward. Oh how I was wrong.

Our previous home was a blessing at the time. Facing the prospect of living alone with the girls, I wanted to be closer to my family. Relocating meant I had to leave my job so buying again so simply was not an option. What I hadn’t counted on when applying for rental properties was the stigma attached to being a single mum supported by benefits. Overnight I had become a stereotype, not desirable to rent to and seemingly no longer socially acceptable. The experience was both humiliating and humbling. So when my previous landlord said he was happy for us to live there, I was grateful and relieved in equal measures.

Three doors away from a pub, on a busy road, no garden, only two bedrooms and in serious need of some TLC, it was a long way from the beautiful house we left. But I had no other options. My wonderful family worked tirelessly in the weeks before we moved in to make it a nice home for us. So despite it being far from perfect I was very grateful for it and we have some lovely memories there. However after our second Christmas I knew the time was right for us to move on. I could live with the noisy neighbours, the 1970’s stone fireplace, the random concertina bathroom door and even the small courtyard but in my heart it would always be the house we had to live in, not the one we wanted to.

As soon as I saw our new house listed on the internet I knew I wanted it to be our new home but the timing was dreadful. I have been very busy at work doing extra hours to get an important project done, CJ had chicken pox and we had a week to Disney booked (more about that next time) all in the month before we moved. I was therefore much less organised than I would have liked and the actual move became quite chaotic. I had a lot more ‘stuff’ than I had first thought. I am not a horder but even so we do not ‘live lightly’. In addition I now have twice as much furniture, it really is amazing how much you can fit into a small house. Once again, my long suffering family were there to help, with only the promise of a Chinese to soften the blow. 10 van loads later and everything was in our new place, but that is really just the start of what needs doing.

I have never listened to so much hold music in my life, I have wrangled with the phone company about why they have given me a new phone number when they said I was keeping the old one; the electricity company about how I wouldn’t be paying a £100 bill for the month before I moved in; the council about the council tax bill, which at the third issue is still wrong and currys about why my brand new dishwasher didn’t work. The boiler decided to stop heating the house, some of the sockets don’t work and the previous occupants removed the pluming for the washing machine. And obviously there is still the Mummy ‘business as usual’ to carry on with; the school run, swimming lessons, ballet classes, reading, spellings, washing, ironing, food shopping, cooking……

Despite the niggles and the seemingly endless ‘to do’ lists, life in our new home is great. We have a drive, which after 18 months of on street parking with two little ones is wonderful, a downstairs toilet complete with a sink the girls can reach and by far and away the best part; the garden. This week I have been cooking tea, watching the girls play in the spring sunshine, a complete joy. But my happiness is not just in our new physical surroundings. Yes they are making our day to day living lovely, but it is also the satisfaction of knowing my hard work has bought us here. I made the decisions, dealt with the stress and solved the problems, alone. Now, more than ever, I truly believe I can build a strong and happy life for my family of three, and I don’t need a fourth person to do it.