Mummy Long Legs

I love this week of the year more than any other, and have done most of my life. Summer’s warmth and colour kissing each leaf goodbye before they hasten to new adventures. Breezes to dry washing by the gardenful. The first crisped flakes of autumn giggling around on the ground like dry cereal straight out of the box. Tired children and fresh casserole. Ahh.

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And odd things like daddy-long-legses. Where do they reside in other months? Did you ever see one in February?

Joe is fascinated by ‘piders, and noticing where they are and what size they are. He is generally very positive and hasn’t got a problem with bugs or creepy crawlies in general. His attitude to life is the boost I so often need, and frequently makes me stop and think. I was explaining to him that chopping onions makes mummy cry and he suggested that chopping onions makes him laugh.  I do hope this will come in handy when he can be trusted with a sharp knife.

Lily is planning for Christmas and rearranging the squashes in the front room. I do hope this too will come in handy. Perhaps when she can be trusted with carrying oversized vegetables around the house. I am now so middle-class that I can’t imagine much point to squashes beyond looking beautiful for weeks on end, but I suspect I will be baking and roasting some in due course.

And finally both children are talking and both children are eating. Let the feasting begin!

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I could eat all winter, and probably will. I am not pregnant, but am starting to look like I am. Occupational hazard of depressed stay-at-home-mum I think. That and large packets of minstrels. Do they really expect you to stop halfway through? My current attitude is that I will be very pleased with myself when I shed the extra pounds at such time as I know I can change my eating habits and also actually attempt to. Mummy Wide Legs is more like it.

It is a good thing I have never taken all that much notice, much less cared, about my physical shape. I am not easily embarrassed physically. And I am reasonably brave emotionally I’ve realised. Too brave lately. I had to go into toddlers today, to deliver a large box of toys and books we’d won. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, and lost a lot of sleep last night (although that might have been the minstrels). Joe had a great time. I was chatting with people I care deeply about – there are a lot, and even more new faces, who I ought to care deeply about and haven’t met yet – and realised I’d shuffled into winter while everyone else was in summer mode. While mums were kissing their little ones better and sending them off to play with the Brio, I was frozen with panic. While autumnal chatter filled the air like a good breeze, I could only feel the pain of inhaling sub-zero oxygen, stabbing at my lungs. I collapsed inside like soggy cereal and headed out of the door.

My friends minded my son and kept him happy and fetched my things. My friends listened to me and cheered me up through tea and tears and terrors. My friends refused to judge me or make things harder for me. I managed about half a session this morning and then got through the afternoon by trying to thaw out in front of the computer.

I will get better, and I am so aware of God guiding me. I have discovered that the unit of trust is the step. Each day is made up of several kilosteps, but with a limited number I cannot travel too far, or too fast. Even when tough walks need walking the steps taken in pain are still steps forward. In retrospect I am not as angry with myself now as I was this morning. I actually made it to toddlers. I helped out a little. I listened to people and chatted. I recognised that I am not utterly irreplaceable. Kilosteps or killersteps, I made progress. I just have to put my feet up now and stuff my face a bit more. I know it’s autumn, but please can winter hold off just a little longer? I want to catch more of the detail of the beauty of this time.

 

 

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