Daffodils, Daughters and 2013 365 Challenge #35

Early daffodils

Today started at 5.30am. Again. It seems my daughter’s internal clock has gone forward for Spring a few weeks early. I wouldn’t mind but she has taken to making sure we’re all awake by coming in to Mummy and Daddy and saying she needs help on the toilet (she doesn’t), then going in to Aaron because he’s crying (he isn’t) and thereby waking the dog who sleeps next to the baby monitor downstairs. It’s tricky because she also gets herself dressed, makes her bed and opens her curtains. Great behaviour, just not at 5.30am. And then we spend the rest of the day grumpy. She’s sobbing upstairs at the moment because we’ve had a row. She’s only four. I’m so looking forward to her teenage years.

My daughter isn’t the only one who thinks it’s Spring. I was walking the dog today and saw these daffodils. We’ve had a week of really warm weather (10C) and even though it’s back to 3 or 4C they clearly think it’s time to get up too. It’s nice to see them, it brings all the wonderful hope of Spring. I just hope it isn’t false hope – it’s only February, I’m sure there’s plenty more bad weather to come.

Claire’s novel-in-instalments has reached 30,000 words. I read some of it as I proof-read Two-Hundred Steps Home and I was pleasantly surprised that it reads quite well for a first draft. I don’t think it will ever be anything else, not least because – at this rate – it will be a 300,000 word novel by the end of the year. Who is going to want to buy that?! Still, amidst the chaos and turmoil of home at the moment, it feels good to have achieved what I have so far.

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“Hey Claire, great singing last night, how’s the hangover?”

Claire dropped her head on her hands and groaned, refusing to respond to the man who had stopped on his way past their breakfast table. He chuckled and walked on. Claire was about to raise her head when she heard more footsteps and another voice.

“Alright Josh, Claire, nice guitar playing mate. Good session. You guys off to do the wall today? Weather looks smashing.”

The voice receded and the room went quiet. Lifting her head slowly Claire peered out under one arm. “Have they all gone? Is it safe to come out?”

Josh laughed sympathetically. “Yes they’re gone, though you have no reason to hide. You were awesome.”

Claire moaned softly. “Not you too. What did I do exactly? It all goes hazy after the guy with the guitar and the bottle of whisky arrived.”

“You drank quite a lot of the whisky, mostly from the bottle, then you started dancing. Simon played accompaniment and when you kept falling over the furniture you decided to sing instead. You’ve got a nice voice you know, although the words were a bit slurred.”

“And you played guitar? I don’t remember that.”

Josh shrugged. “Well you were mostly asleep on Steve’s shoulder at that point.”

“Oh God, who is Steve?” Claire covered her face with her palms and peeked at Josh through splayed fingers.

“The guy who just said g’day to you.”

Claire dropped her head again. “Tell me nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Josh said, a bit too quickly.

Claire looked up. “Now say it like it’s true.”

“Well I can’t swear to that. I was making Lucy’s acquaintance.”

“Which one was she?”

“The red head with the stray curls.”

Claire shook her head. This wasn’t going to be blog material. The sooner the night was forgotten the better.

“So are we walking the wall today or are you ticking this box as done and moving on?” Josh’s tone was neutral as he finished the last of his breakfast.

Claire considered the opportunity to escape and leave Josh and their jamming session behind. She looked out the window. Blue skies and scudding clouds beckoned her out to blow away the hangover.

“What wall?”

“Hadrian’s Wall.”

“Yes?”

“Oh come on, I’m not even from this country and I’ve heard of Hadrian’s Wall.”

“Who the hell is Hadrian, why’s he important?”

“Ah well there you have me. But I read a leaflet that says there’s an 8-mile walk from here that goes via a museum. Maybe we can go learn together.”

“Why would I want to learn about it from a museum when I can Google it?”

“That’s just data. Someone else’s view. You can’t live life vicariously, you have to stomp in it and get your boots muddy. Think of it as Blog Fodder. No one’s going to read your blog if you move on from every place as soon as you arrive.”

“I don’t care if anyone reads it. The fewer people the better.”

“You don’t mean that or you wouldn’t have had me read it in the car in the dark.” Claire flushed but Josh didn’t notice. He was waving his spoon around to emphasise the points he was making. “Besides I thought this was your job? Likes and follows are paying your wages. You strike me as a hard-working chick. Put some effort in!”

“What are you, some kind of motivational guru?” Josh turned at her words and gave Claire a strange look, almost a glare. Then he laughed. The sound struck Claire as forced and false.

“That’s me, Mr Get-up-and-go. Now get your sweet arse into some hiking gear and meet me at reception before it starts raining.” He pushed away from the table and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Claire realised she sounded like a wife and blushed. “Never mind. I’ll see you soon. Do we need to take lunch?”

“I’ll find out, I just have something to do first.” Josh raised his hand in a half-wave and disappeared in the direction of the internet access without looking back.

***

Daffodils – One of the First Flowers of Spring (proflowers.com)
Daffodils…Just In Time (putneyfarm.com)
Daffodils, Scarf and The Harbour at Night (and a Blogger Challenge) (mybeautfulthings.wordpress.com)

Cat, Tiger and Craft Book: 2013 365 Challenge #34

Amber's photo book and the one I made so Aaron wouldn't feel left out

Amber’s photo book and the one I made for Aaron

Family day today.

Had to write post #33 this morning as I was too tired and poorly last night, which nearly made us late for a birthday party (that and husband couldn’t get out of bed!). I’ve got behind on the daily blogging and am having to write too many of the posts with the kids awake. Must use the next nursery day I get to catch up as it’s impossible to write these posts with the kids yelling at me. (Plus the guilt is all-consuming!)

Parties are always touchy things – they can be overwhelming events and this one was no different. It was at an indoor play area (the kind with ball pits, crawling tunnels and slides).It’s the sort with two levels and Amber got upset if she couldn’t see a parent easily.

Thankfully husband and son came too so we took it in turns to go crawling around after the kids. Okay so I mostly chatted with the Mummies while Daddy did the crawling but that was only fair as I took them to an indoor play centre yesterday and spent three hours like a hamster in a cage.There was also a face painter which is such a great idea. My kids love having their faces painted.

Amber’s Photo Journal Glitter-fest

This afternoon we did one of Amber’s birthday gifts – a “make my own book” craft kit. I wasn’t looking forward to it because I’m a perfectionist so it’s tough watching her cover everything in glitter and stickers.

I spent the time printing out photographs and putting double-sided sticky tape on the back of them while trying to ignore the glitter-fest. I do get told off for taking over and sticking things straight but there’s always a fine-line between letting the kids do everything themselves and helping them create something they’re proud of and will continue to be proud of.

Amber as a cat

This evening was all about Rattle. Rattle is Amber’s comforter – a tatty, much loved teddy that someone gave me after they won it in a tombola and saw me with my baby bump. We used to have two (I tracked down a spare on ebay in the US when I realised how important it was becoming) but Rattle2 “went on an adventure” a year or so ago. We tracked another one down in the US recently and had it shipped to my sister. Unfortunately “new Rattle” has been rejected for, well, being too new.

Aaron as a tiger

Four years of love has made the original Rattle grubby, lumpy and chewed.

Anyway at bedtime this evening we realised Rattle had been left at the indoor play area. They were still open so we rang in a panic and they couldn’t find him. A very sad girl sat hugging New Rattle and sobbing. Thankfully I thought to text the party girl’s mummy and she had picked it up. Better still her wonderful husband drove the dozen miles over to our house to drop him off. Hurrah, child can sleep.

Right, time to think up a new adventure for Claire. I wonder what will happen today. I honestly have no idea until the point at which I open the Word document and start typing.

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“Bagsy I get the bottom bunk; I rather fancy you on top.” Josh’s laughter rang round the small room as Claire glared at him and wrapped her arms around her midriff.

“It’s bad enough that you talked me into sharing a room with you. I can do without the suggestive comments. Don’t push me or I’ll go to reception and move to a dorm. Then you can pay for this whole room by yourself.”

“Surely you’d rather share with just me than a room full of chicks you’ve never met? They might snore.”

“You might snore for all I know. Besides I’ve learned my lesson on that one, I have ear plugs. And don’t think about trying anything either. I’m not interested in a travelling romance. If I hear you climbing that ladder in the night I’ll stick a pin in you.”

“Don’t get your pants twisted Claire I’m a perfect gent. I don’t pursue where I’m not welcome.” He said the words with a glint and Claire was conscious of a warm flush rising up her neck. Ignoring the betrayal of her body Claire dug through her rucksack to retrieve her night-dress and wash bag.

“Nice nighty.”

Claire couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re outrageous. Right, what now?”

“Now we explore.”

It didn’t take long to discover that the hostel had no hidden delights, apart from a little corridor conservatory along from the lounge which was probably lovely in the summer. The whole place felt in need of a refresh, particularly after some of the places Claire had stayed in already. It was like visiting her Gran’s house, before she died. At least it doesn’t smell of boiled cabbage.

“What do people do when they’re hostelling?” Claire sat on the edge of her chair and looked with puzzlement at Josh’s sprawled form.

“Whatever they want. Read, listen to music, chat, meet new people. If you’re lucky someone will start jamming.”

“Jamming?”

“You know, playing the guitar, singing.”

“Oh god, really? How awful.”

It was Josh’s turn to look perplexed. “What did you do to relax when you were at home Claire?”

Claire gave the question some thought. “I didn’t. I was either at work or out.”

“Where did you go out then? You must have had some fun.”

“Oh yes.” She thought about nights drinking with her friends. And then she remembered Susannah’s comments at her leaving party and wondered if they were really friends or just colleagues who bitched about her behind her back. Images of Sunday morning brunches with Michael, and walking in the park to let the wind blow away their hangovers, besieged her brain. They were unwelcome memories and she shoved them away.

“That’s different, though,” Claire continued. “That’s at home with friends and access to a decent wardrobe. What do you do with a sack full of unwashed clothes and no one to party with?”

“You don’t need clothes to party.”

Claire sniggered, drawing a ready grin from Josh. “I didn’t mean it like that but, yes, that’s one way to party. What I meant was you don’t need to dress up to have fun.”

Claire raised an eyebrow at Josh’s stained clothes, muddy trainers and unkempt hair. He wouldn’t even be allowed in to Tiger Tiger.

If Josh was aware of Claire’s critical scrutiny he didn’t show it. Instead he swung his legs down from the arm of the chair and sat forward, making eye contact. “I asked at reception when we checked in, apparently there’s a pub next door that does a bonzer steak pie. Come with me, we’ll have some nosh and I’ll show you how to be social when you’re on the road.”

Claire looked down at her travel-creased clothing and pulled at her greasy hair. “I could really use a shower and a change of clothes.”

“No, you come as you are. Most of the people in there will have been hiking Hadrian’s Wall all day. There won’t be any glamour, you’ll fit right in.”

Unsure how to take his last comment, Claire grabbed her purse and followed Josh out the door.

If nothing else it will be content for the blog. We’re only going to eat a meal and chat with some people, I used to do that all the time at work. How different can it be?

***

Inadequate mummy syndrome part two! (suffolkbianca.wordpress.com)

Burnt Mash: 2013 365 Challenge Day #30

Amber’s ‘paint your own tea set’ gift. Spot the ones controlling mummy did

At 11.57 a.m. today my daughter was exactly 4 years old. She was also sick of birthday celebrations and even sobbed “I don’t know if I’m actually four or not” because we’ve been celebrating her 4th birthday since Sunday.

I have learned an important lesson about managing the amount of birthday stuff that happens. Although what the alternative is when a birthday falls on a week day I don’t know. I do have friends who manipulate when their child’s birthday is to suit them but, even though I’m not at all adverse to lying to my children, that is one lie I feel I would struggle to maintain.

(I heard a great story about a mother coming a cropper when her child started school and the teachers gave her a card and sang happy birthday when she didn’t know it was on that day.)

Indoor scootering… they want to go outside but I’m scared!

Anyway, the birthday is done. We spent the afternoon painting her ‘paint your own tea set’ and scootering around the kitchen. The last present has been given (and it was a great one – a doll that actually swims in water – thank you grandma and grandpa!). Tomorrow begins a new day.

As I write this post I am inhaling the scent of caramelised potatoes and carrots. Not because of some fancy dinner but because I burned the mash while my parents were here. I’m now trying to decide what to cook as well as what on earth I’m going to have happen to Claire this evening as I haven’t done any research today. I think it’s going to have to be something with her new Aussie friend.

Indoor scootering – a great way to burn off excess energy…

I asked my husband last week what should happen to Claire next and he said “surely someone will hit on her?”

He said it with such confidence but I don’t remember anyone ever chatting me up when I travelled around New Zealand. Mind you I was suffering from panic attacks after coming off antidepressants so I probably didn’t give off a come-chat-me-up sort of vibe. I did have an incident with a hitchhiker but I’m saving that story for later on in Claire’s adventures!

My other task for this week is to pull together an electronic version of all the posts for January so I can have it available for people who want to catch up on the story. I’m struggling for a title, if anyone has any ideas. I’m toying with “Two-hundred steps home” because of the 200 YHA hostels and Claire’s journey but it’s a bit vague. I’ve never been any good at coming up with good titles. Any ideas gratefully received!

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“Look, there’s Orion, although it’s upside-down of course. His sword’s pointing skyward, if you know what I mean?” Josh chuckled, the sound spilling out from somewhere deep in his throat. Claire didn’t understand his words but the swell of his laughter washed over her, resonating deep in her midriff.

They stood shoulder to shoulder gazing up at the glitter-strewn sky. It reminded Claire of something Sky might produce at school that would turn up in the post to Aunty Claire, dropping blue sparkles all over her cream carpet.

Standing in the freezing night beneath the myriad of stars Claire realised she had never truly seen the night sky before. In Manchester it was barely possible to distinguish the Big Dipper above the persistent glow of streetlights. Here, deep in the Kielder Forest, it was hard to see the dark of Space in between the sparkling specks of light. She felt like a child in awe of the sight above her.

Claire became aware of the gushing words filling her head and gave a mental shake. All this sky is making me poetic. Time for another G&T I think.

She turned to Josh, to tell him that it was time to go. His silence spread to fill the space around him as he gazed, rapt, at the display above his head. Claire shrugged and turned to stand alongside him again. There’s no real hurry I guess. He’s having fun and it took some effort to get here.

She thought about the skidding, spinning Skoda ride up the snow-strewn path and sighed. Halfway up the track she had stopped the car and made Josh drive, as much to stop his constant stream of advice as to soothe her tattered nerves. When they arrived at the Observatory it was to find that Public Viewing was cancelled due to the weather. Thankfully they were still able to access the decked areas and see the stars with the naked eye.

The word naked caught in Claire’s mind and she became aware, as if for the first time, of the man standing slightly too near her for comfort. She could feel Josh’s coat brushing hers, his woollen clad hands near hers on the railings. Her nostrils filled with the scent of cheap deodorant and cigarette smoke. Not smells that would normally have the kind of effect on her knees that they seemed to be having at that moment.

Josh was pointing out the constellations he knew, explaining which ones could be seen in Australia, upside-down of course, and which ones couldn’t.

“Did you know you can’t see the Pole Star if you’re as much as one degree over the equator? Amazing. We don’t have anything that fixed in the Southern Hemisphere although our stars are brighter, especially the Southern Cross.”

Claire turned so she could hear what Josh was saying without taking down her hood. It was freezing up on the observation deck. Josh glanced round at the movement and his words fell from his mouth and lay dead in the snow. He leaned forwards and raised a mitten-clad hand to Claire’s face.

Claire’s heart beat loudly but not as loud as the clamour filling her brain. What the hell? Oh God is he going to kiss me? I barely know him and he reeks of fags and oh crap it’s just too corny to snog the first Australian guy I meet. Isn’t that what all backpackers do?

Josh’s face came nearer, his breath steaming in the cold air, brushing warmth across Claire’s frozen face. Her eyes widened as the monologue shrilled loudly in her head. She was immobile with indecision. It would be awkward to turn away and avoid the kiss, but not as awkward as what might happen after they came together. The thoughts raced on, wondering if they would sleep together, wondering how that happened exactly if you were both staying in dorm rooms.

They don’t shag in dorms do they? With people trying to sleep all around them? Surely they get a double room? She wondered who ‘they’ were. Some alien species of traveling people? That’s me now, I’m a backpacker too.

Josh’s lips were almost at hers and still no plan of action had presented itself in her jumbled mind. His eyes were closed, a fact Claire found slightly disappointing. She couldn’t remember her first kiss with Michael – they were both too drunk – but she had some idea that first kisses were meant to happen with each of the people gazing longingly at the other until the moment when lips touched and fire exploded.

She felt the first brush of Josh’s lips against hers. They were rough and chapped, and his unshaven cheeks scratched her cold skin. His eyes flew open when she didn’t respond and he looked into her face then, his expression rueful but unabashed.

“Ah well, can’t blame a bloke for trying. You are very hot. Taken?”

He pulled away.

Claire remained still for a moment more as she processed events, unsure why she hadn’t responded. She had wanted to. Every part of her body was throbbing with the need to lose herself in someone’s kisses. Her traitorous brain, not for the first time, seemed to have taken over at the crucial moment.

“Um, no, not taken. Er, you just caught me by surprise that’s all.”

Josh grinned. “Ah, so I I’m free to try again at a better moment? Sweet.”

He turned back to face the stars as if they’d been discussing where to meet for lunch. Claire swallowed, her throat dry, and tried to detangle her jumbled thoughts.

Great, that’s all I need, another bloody complication. Oh Michael, where are you?

She turned and faced the night, seeking answers amongst the stars.

***

Birthdays and (dare I say it) boredom… and 2013 365 Challenge #29

Card painting: the first painting I've done in over a year

Card painting: the first abstract painting I’ve done in over a year

As you read this it is (finally) my daughter’s fourth birthday. I’m writing the night before, as usual, and I have no words again. It’s been a long week.

Granddad came over for dinner this evening, so Amber had more gifts to open.She was overwhelmed after a long day at nursery and my poor son was bereft, even though I wrapped a few toys so he also had something to open. He didn’t even register what was under the wrapping so, after he went to bed, I wrapped a few more things from the playroom. Hopefully that will help tomorrow when Amber opens her final gifts. This birthday has lasted longer than Christmas! Although, as her labour lasted 32 hours, I guess that’s fairly appropriate.

I’ve also been painting today, for the first time since my solo exhibition over a year ago. It felt odd. It also reminded me why I haven’t painted in more than twelve months: I was cooking lunch for hubbie and it went cold while I tried to fix something that had gone wrong in the first painting. That’s the thing with the style of work I do – once you start you have to keep going until it’s finished or the acrylic dries funny. In the end hubbie had to tear the brush from my hand because I’d used some old paint which was full of dry bits and the painting was never going to come good. I finally managed to complete a batch ready to be cut up and stuck to card stock tomorrow. I have until Friday to get some Valentines Day cards to the Gallery. Nothing like a deadline!

I suspect Claire will have another quiet day today. This is the first time since the beginning of January that I’ve sat down at my laptop and thought bugger Claire I want to go watch TV. I have a fairly short attention span and I am finding it hard to think up a new situation for Claire every single day. Normally (for me) a first draft of a novel propels itself forward by its own momentum once I’ve got past the first ten or fifteen thousand words. Even though I have written 25,00 words about Claire so far this month, the challenge is starting to feel like writing a short story everyday. I loathe writing short stories. If it only takes 30 days to build a habit this should be second nature by now. Some people say it take 60 days in which case I’m half way there. Just keep typing, just keep typing…

I did manage to get some research done this morning but not enough for a detailed post so I think it’s time Claire met someone to talk to. I am enjoying travelling around the North East via my laptop (even if I’m not enjoying thinking what to write about every twenty-four hours) but it’s almost as time-consuming as going there in person! Whose crazy idea was this postaday lark?

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“G’day, you need a hand?”

Claire ducked out from under the bonnet to find a tanned face full of teeth grinning at her.

“Car bust?”

“What?” Claire looked bewildered for a moment before realisation dawned. “Oh, no, I haven’t broken down. The engine’s at the other end. I’m just getting my boots out. They were wet so I put them in here instead of in the car. The carpets might be old and mouldy but I don’t want them stinking of damp or getting my bag soggy.”

She stopped speaking as she realised the words were rushing out in a torrent. As it was only half an hour’s drive from Byrness to Kielder Claire had decided to take a detour to the nearest town in search of coffee. She had arrived in Hawick in time for lunch and had lost a pleasant hour or two in Turnbulls. As she knew the Kielder Hostel reception wouldn’t open until 5pm she went on to another café bookshop and happily immersed herself in other people’s lives until it was late enough to head to Kielder. As a result she hadn’t spoken to anyone since her phone-call to Julia that morning. It seemed words built up like water behind a fallen tree if you didn’t use them.

Claire looked at the man to judge his reaction to her verbal diarrhoea. He didn’t seem fazed by it. He wandered closer and peered under the bonnet as if to confirm that there was, in fact, no engine there.

“I might be a girl but I do know what an engine looks like.” Claire’s voice came out sharper than intended. The man looked up and smiled again, and Claire was struck by how attractive he was. Something throbbed inside her and she looked down at her boots as if hoping they would fill the awkward gap in conversation. Brushing her hair behind her ears Claire reached in and retrieved the still-wet snow-boots. She tied the laces together and threw them over her shoulder where her rucksack was already in place.

The stranger stood up and dug his hands into his pockets. “You staying here?”

Claire swallowed a giggle and looked around the emptiness that surrounded them. “Oh have I missed the five-star spa resort?”

The man grinned as if to acknowledge his obvious question. “Name’s Josh. I’ve been here a while, you want me to show you around?”

Is he hitting on me? Claire couldn’t tell. It had been a long time since anyone had chatted her up. Apart from Mike from Accounts and that didn’t really count as she had initiated that particular conversation, more fool her. Deciding it didn’t really matter if Josh was interested or not Claire slammed the bonnet down and followed her new Aussie friend into the hostel.

Claire had been prepared for the remoteness of the hostel, after reading the information on the website. She knew, for example, that the nearest shop was 17 miles away. What she hadn’t noticed was that, all covered in snow, the place resembled a ski resort. It was comforting even though they weren’t in the mountains. Maybe I can pretend it is a five-star hotel, especially if it looks as smart on the inside as Byrness did.

After she had been shown to her dorm and had a chance to take in the wooden bunks and multi-coloured duvets Claire dismissed the similarities to a ski chalet. Never mind. Josh has promised to take care of me. She took out her least-creased top and her make-up bag. A dab of mascara, a spritz of perfume and she was ready.

Back in the lobby she looked at Josh askance. He was wrapped up in winter woollies including a giant hand-knitted bobble hat and scarf set that looked like it was a Christmas gift from his Gran.

“Um, are we going out? I thought there was nothing to do round here?”

“Have you looked out at the night’s sky? It’s a beaut. Be criminal not to get ourselves to the observatory on a night like this. Skedaddle back to your room for your coat or you’ll freeze.”

“What observatory?” Claire’s mind struggled to catch up. She was tired and hungry and wanted dinner and maybe a gin and tonic if that was possible.

“It’s about a mile away. Come on. Public viewing is from 8pm and it’ll take a while to walk there.”

Claire weighed up the merits of eating dinner alone or accompanying her handsome new friend to look at dots of burning gas in the sky. She looked at her watch. “It’s only 7pm. Why don’t we eat first then I’ll drive us up to your observatory thing if it’s so important. It’s too bloody cold to walk.”

“You beaut, that’s a bonza idea!” He pulled off his hat and beckoned Claire to follow him to the dining room.

Claire felt like a leaf that had just been blown by a gust of wind into a swollen river.

***

P.S. Apologies to any Australians – it’s a terrible mimicry of an Aussie speaking. What can I say, I’m tired!

Lorraine Loots | 365 Paintings for Ants (10and5.com)
Week 4 – Project 365 (englishmamma.com)
A New Challenge – For 365 Days (bythebodkin.wordpress.com)
#365DaysAtHome (everydayelsie.com)
365 Self Portrait Challenge: Day Three Hundred Fifty One: (nurtureself365.com)

Post Party Blues and 2013 365 Challenge Day #28

The Jungle Party was a success

Everyone is sad and jaded this morning. Husband has a second-interview tomorrow and no energy to spend on learning his competency-based answers. I’m behind on my post and can’t keep my eyes open, and I left two crying children at nursery which always breaks my heart a little bit.

I phoned ten minutes later to check they’re okay and Amber had been let into her brother’s room to give him a cuddle. I love that they look out for each other and are a comfort to each other. I must work hard today to make up for their sadness. I do wonder how my daughter will cope with going to school every day in September. She does so love being at home, particularly since Daddy has been home too. Let’s hope his interview goes well.

Party Girl in the Zebra mask she made as part of the craft activity

The party was amazing but we were all exhausted afterwards. The only problem with having it in the morning was surviving until bedtime. And my daughter’s birthday isn’t actually until tomorrow so there are still visits from grandparents and more gifts to come. It’s overwhelming for children even though we’ve tried to keep it as calm as possible. It’s tough on the little one, too, as he doesn’t really understand the gifts aren’t for him. Especially so close to Christmas when they both got presents. So I’m going to get him a little something today so he has a toy to play with tomorrow.

The tightrope walk of parenthood!

My daughter told me this morning (after I lost my temper at their constant whining about not wanting to go to nursery) that she wanted a different Mummy rather than me. Husband was horrified:

“Mummy gave you an amazing party this weekend, aren’t you grateful for that?”

I just shrugged and said, “But that’s my job.”

The Jungle Party Room

If she doesn’t hate me from time to time I’m probably not doing my job properly. I love her, I want her to be happy but I also want her to grow up knowing the balance between times when she is the centre of everything and times when the world gets on and she must fit in.

I want to be her friend but first and foremost I’m her Mum. The two are not always the same thing.

Anyway, I’m late with the post because I had no words by bedtime last night. I have twelve minutes to post pictures and write something about Claire. Might be a bit of 200-word flash fiction today. I’ve been reading some great Flash Fiction over on the Apprentice, Never Master blog and it’s a skill I don’t currently have.

And then I have to make a dozen Valentines Day cards for the Gallery, buy Amber a gift from her brother, wrap all the presents and make dinner for Grandad’s arrival this evening. I might not earn a wage but it still feels like work to me!

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“Julia? It’s Claire. Don’t bother: I know Carl’s in an end-of-the-world summit in Timbuktu and can’t be reached. I don’t want to talk to him, I just want to pass on a message, seeing as that’s his preferred method of communication. You tell him it will take more than his sister’s friend’s stupid husband to make me quit my assignment. If Carl wants to fire me he’ll have to do it in person. Until he grows a pair and tells me to my face that I’m no longer required I will do the job he is paying me to do. That’s all.”

Claire hung up the phone and grinned. An unfamiliar surge of liberation flooded through her, starting in her chest and spreading out down to her fingertips. She pictured Julia’s face as she listened to the diatribe pouring down the phone, imagining the perfect cherry-red O in the middle of her flawlessly made-up face. Glancing in the mirror on the back of her phone Claire realised with a start that she hadn’t put make up on for two days. And she didn’t care. Who is there to impress out her in the sticks? She stroked her face. It felt clean and smooth, like it could breathe. I don’t remember the last time I went out in public without slap.

The sun shone on the while walls of the Byrness hostel as Claire loaded her things into the car ready to drive to Kielder. She looked at the building with more fondness than she could have imagined two days earlier. Settling into the icy seat Claire pulled on her gloves before touching the freezing steering wheel. She tugged the choke, gave the car a pat of encouragement and checked the Sat Nav instructions. Her heart felt buoyant as she poked around for a gear and drove away.

***

Pin the Tail on the Zebra and 2013 365 Challenge #25

I’m rather proud of my Pin the Tail on the Zebra

Today my husband and I have been getting ready for the party. He has been decluttering (his area of expertise) while I spent three hours painting a zebra for Pin the Tail on the Zebra. We’ve still got palm trees to assemble and craft to prepare and the party date is looming. Today was the last child-free day between now and Sunday: I foresee busy nights ahead.

The kids and I shredded crêpe paper into hanging vines yesterday and chose a Monkey cake, zebras not being available. My daughter is having her Zebra/Jungle party despite my early misgivings.

Husband and I worry that we spoil the children by giving them exactly what they want. From the little things like choosing their breakfast and dinner, through the middle-sized choices of where to go everyday (zoo, farm, coffee shop tending to be the options) right to the big decisions of what colour scooter to get for Christmas.

Crepe paper vines and my Dad’s old zebra blanket (I knew we kept it for a reason)

We’re easy-going people, my husband and I, and like a quiet life. So it doesn’t matter to us if the kids are in charge. It might matter to them though. My daughter starts school in September and I’m worried she will struggle with being told what to do, where to go and how to dress five days out of seven.

Don’t get me wrong, we are parents. They go to bed (more or less) when they’re told, they wear (more or less) what we want them to and two or three days a week they go to nursery. That’s a given. On the plus side they are really good at choosing and negotiating. In terms of choice both children can pick a meal off a menu, select clothes from a full drawer or decide which cake they want without long deliberations or fuss.

I can’t. I’m useless at making decisions.

And their negotiating skills are legendary. The answer to “would you like a cookie?” is always, “two?” My youngest could count to two before he was 18 months old, particularly if it was two rice cakes or two breadsticks.

I have to keep reminding myself all these things add character and, in today’s world, a bit of stubbornness and knowing your own mind is a good thing. I’m just not looking forward to the day when the choices are between tattoos, piercings or which tiny skirt to wear (that goes for both of them: my son chose to wear blue nail-varnish and pink heels to nursery today. I did veto the dress.) In the meantime I’m just glad to have an excuse to paint.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Claire shuffled deeper into the corner of the brown leather sofa and tried to get comfortable. The book on her lap remained closed. Her iPad was in the tiny room she had hired for the night. There was no signal in the hostel so she had the perfect excuse not to update her blog or Facebook account.

Silence blanketed the deserted building. Claire had arrived just as the lady who ran the B&B with her husband left to take some hikers up to the Pennine Way.

“Who hikes in this weather?” Claire had asked and had received a withering glance in reply from one of the passengers.

“Excuse me!” Claire had responded, too quiet to be audible.

It turned out that plenty of people wanted to stomp around in the snow. Everyone staying at Byrness Hostel to be exact. The host lady had explained that they would be back for dinner so she wouldn’t be lonely for long.

Lonely? Ha. This is bliss. Claire looked around the empty room and stifled a sigh. Okay, more boring than blissful. She felt guilty even thinking the word boring. Her mother’s words to her and her siblings when they were growing up echoed in her head:

“Only stupid people get bored,” she would say. “You have the capacity to entertain yourselves, to read a book, play the piano, invent a song, game or story. Your genetic code is embedded with the facilities to not be bored. Use them.”

Claire looked down at the romance she’d bought at the second hand book store. It was so happy it made her miserable. Her brain seemed to be empty of ideas and there was no piano.

I guess I’m an embarrassment to my blood. Either that or I was adopted. Maybe that’s why mum hates me.

Claire looked round the room for inspiration and spied the Visitors Book.

Maybe I should read it, try and understand what draws people to this nomadic life.

The comments were mostly vague, complimenting the accommodation, the hosts, the food, the views and the hikes. She flicked the pages looking for something that might stand out. She had almost given up finding anything interesting when a lead weight dropped into her stomach as she saw handwriting she knew. Familiar sloping characters with curly fs looped gs. Writing she had last seen on a Christmas card inscribing the words Dear Claire, with all my love.

She looked at the date on the entry and tried to work out whether it was before they got together. Without really needing to, Claire checked the diary in her phone.

That was only a week or two before we met.

She swallowed, thinking she ought to get a glass of water. The central heating must be drying my throat out. Her heart beat loudly as she read Michael’s review. It was several lines long, written in small, cramped words. How thorough. So very Michael. She read through his views on the Pennine Way, the charming hosts and the wholesome food. His words were balanced and fair and Claire could hear them in Michael’s rich voice. The final line grabbed her guts and gave a twist. Debbie and I very much enjoyed our stay. The room was extremely comfortable and the company delightful.

A growling noise echoed loudly in the silent room, making Claire jump. She realised with a start that she was making the noise, deep in her throat. Debbie. His darling ex.

I wonder why he left her. Sweet, delightful Debbie.

Michael was recently separated from Debbie when Claire first met him. They had parted amicably, so Michael said, agreeing that they didn’t suit. I wonder if he went back to Debbie, when… She couldn’t finish the thought. Unwelcome images of the last time she saw Michael swamped her over-wrought emotions and dragged tears from her eyes.

Claire slapped the book shut and shoved it back on the shelf before clumping to the kettle to make tea. I wonder what room they slept in. She looked around the doors, her skin prickling. Did she love hiking and all things outdoors? Did she always make it to dinner engagements and remember to call when she promised? Did she want kids?

The thoughts clattered loudly in Claire’s quiet brain until she thought she might lose her sanity to the sound.

How do people bear all this damn silence?

***