Tiny Sparks of Autumn Joy

Two important birthdays, lots of family fun and some lovely moments.

New ballet shoes for my new 10 week term of ballet. I. Love. Being. Back. At. Ballet. It’s become an important part of my mental healthcare.

Sending stuff we don’t want or need anymore out into the world, mostly to people we know who’ll use it. Goodbye Bugaboo Donkey. For ten years you were an important part of our family transport system. I think the umbrella stroller will be moving on soon too.

A little day out to Ikea with the Mini Orchids. Meatballs and chips, storage solutions and skipping the cursed gingerbread houses. Lesson learned.

A new to her backpack for a cousin. And feeling happy we’ve kept the right things so they can be pulled out when necessary.

Never did I ever think I’d be spending a third holiday in Longford, but we’re officially completely converted to the Centerparcs experience. Cycling around the lake with the kids early on the most beautiful Saturday morning in September with the mist lifting was bliss.

Tiny Sparks of Joy

The last week of freedom and easy schedules before school starts.

Another beautiful, delicious meal in Liath (with bonus anchovies for another delicious home cooked meal last Saturday).

A long overdue brunch with friends. Even if the service was … uneven.

A boy getting a new desk the same day he’d requested in thanks to the local freecycle group. I think this was the closest find yet, just at the top of our road.

Ticking off about ten things on a list of stuff I’ve been putting off and catching up on so many little things thanks to working from home. Two and a half years into this, keeping everything crossed it stays the same for as long as … the rest of my working life, really.

“You make me feel happy”

My husband regularly said this line in an approximation of an America accent. According to him, it was said by a creepy toy bear a friend of his was sent by relatives in America one Christmas. It has become something we now say to eachother, silly accent and all.

One thing that makes me feel happy right now is letting go of my somewhat control freak tendencies as the kids get older and want more of a say over their personal spaces. They’re lucky enough to have a room each, with private spaces and doors that can be closed to fend off an invading sibling or two. Last week, I finally caved and let them paint on the walls we painted with a washable magnolia paint six years ago and have done little to ever since.

They did sketches at my request so it wouldn’t be a free for all (can’t let AAAAALLLLL control go) and one of the results of the painting is this cheerful looking guy. He makes me feel happy.

Explaining a war to children

When we had our first child, we had a pretty clear view that we should always stick as close to the truth as possible when speaking around and to and with her. I remembered feeling silly or confused as a child when people gave explanations that didn’t made sense instead of telling me plainly about something or explaining it with a lot of confusing euphemisms. So I resolved not to do that with my own kids and thankfully me and himself are on the same page when it comes to virtually all parenting decisions.

This means our kids have always known the words penis and vulva. They’ve been on marches for healthcare and education. They’ve come to vote with us in elections and referendums. They watch the news. They knew our sense of relief when we all saw the electoral college votes stacking up for Biden. And, recently, they’ve seen what’s happening in Ukraine.

I know some people won’t want their children to know what’s going on. They won’t want their children seeing some of the images coming out of Ukraine and hearing some of the stories of what people, including children, are going through, in Ukraine and across Europe as they flee war. When Russia started bombing, our kids heard about it on the breakfast news bulletin on the radio. They had a vague idea of where Ukraine was but not much beyond that.

Some of their schoolfriends have parents who are from Ukraine. They see the blue and yellow flags everywhere, and comment on them. We have a Ukrainian flag hanging at our door. When we made a cake, they dyed it blue and yellow. Our three year old now pushes yellow and blue Duplo pieces together to make a Ukrainian flag. Its lovely and heartbreaking, all at the same time.

Unlike many other things I was “sheltered” from, probably with the best of intentions or because it can be simply too hard to explain things even adults can’t get their heads around, we haven’t turned off the news when the Mini Orchids are around. I’ve changed TV stations when Channel 4 news had a piece on rape being used as a weapon, my thinking being that that was just too far for kids aged 9 and under. But, yes, they have seen the aftermath of bombings and they’ve seen packed trains heading west and children crying with exhaustion. And we talk about war, and why it happens, and why its so bloody unfair and not right but all we can do is help people when we can.

We won’t know if this is the right or wrong approach for a long time. Maybe we should censor what they see and hear a bit more. Maybe they should have to face reality a bit more. What a luxury to have this as a problem, when children in Ukraine haven’t been outside for months and hear bombs falling around them. In the meantime, we’ll keep on trying to balance our choices and letting our children express themselves in ways that help them process what’s going on in the world.

Two Months of Joy and Sorrow

I’m feeling very lucky and guilty writing this post. We’ve had a lovely couple of months of food out together and alone. There’s been boxes of doughnuts and brunches and lunches en famille. There’s been flowers give and received. There’s been decluttering and holiday prep. There’s been trips to IKEA and Decathalon. There’s been a family swim for the first time since last September. There’s been time off and outdoor coffees and treats courtesy of the Too Good To Go app.

There’s also a Ukrainian flag hanging in our porch. There’s been a lot of explaining of news to children who can’t be sheltered from everything in the world, much as its tempting. There’s emails from ballet schools about free classes for refugees. There’s a local page dedicated to offers of help for those who’ve made it to here from eastern Europe. There’s a lot of yellow and blue flags that make my heart jump a little every time. There’s history unfolding, at work and at home, and there’s the realisation that this shift in world affairs isn’t so very far away at all.

In Praise of (A Small Amount of) Clutter

These are our bookshelves, well about half of them. The other half are in the playroom, which underwent a major reorganisation last weekend. Some books moved from here to there, such as my Malory Towers and St. Clare’s collections. Eldest Orchid is dipping into more and more of my beloved childhood reads and this sparks great joy.

Every so often we get an urge to purge and take out all of the books on these shelves and go through them and 99% of the time every single book goes right back onto the shelves. This process means for about 3 days there’s a system to how the books are arranged. These are deep shelves, so there’s two layers of books on each shelf and sometimes the urge to purge means we rediscover the second layer’s delights.

I have a complete paperback collection of the Drina books I so enjoyed as a child, one or two of which are at the read-so-much-they’re-falling-apart stage of life. To my delight, I was able to get my hands on hardback replacements for 4 of them and they arrived this week. I enjoy the slight editing, with references to Hungary rather than a fictional Iron Curtain country and some of the uniform is nylon rather than silk. I pondered a while on who’s job it was to edit the originals and what decisions were made to bring them up to date. I especially enjoyed the covers.

I have no space for these books, nor do I have space for the 3 library books I collected yesterday. Books on loan to others come back post urge to purge and I forget they need space. There are books shoved hastily on top of neat rows of Chalet School treasures. There’s a cookbook that should be in the cookbook cupboard in the kitchen. There’s probably a stray Miffy somewhere. There’s definitely a less than perfect order to the whole.

While I do prefer less clutter on the whole, I took a moment to appreciate these shelves while shoving my new Drinas in this morning. These are the shelves of people who read books, who dip in and out of interests, who get a thrill from a musty second hand copy and who want to spend more time reading and enjoying the books than keeping them shelved backwards or looking like a rainbow. Sometimes clutter does spark joy, and that’s something to celebrate.

Back To The Barre

One of the most positive things about social media for me has been finding communities that make me feel normal. I’ve found Facebook groups which are as enthusiastic about the Chalet School series as I am, and this has been such a joy over the past few years.

Another hobby I’ve revisited has been ballet. I absolutely adored ballet, as a relatively late starter to classes at age 12. I never missed a class and practiced at home daily, using a chair and mirror in my bedroom. Once I finished college I also finished going to ballet classes and for the life of me now I can’t figure out why. I think it was an assumption that it was time to move on from that phase of my life and that I was too grown up now for what, very, very deep down, I thought other people would think a childish hobby.

When March 2020 meant the temporary closure of my gym, I looked to YouTube for ideas to keep body and mind together. I realised a whole world of options for exercise was available at the click of a mouse, and zeroed in on ballet classes. I dipped in and out, depending on whether I had the headspace for it at the time. I didn’t have any ballet shoes or leotard, and like the practice sessions of my youth a chair served as my barre.

A few weeks ago, when my daughter needed character shoes for her Grade 2 ballet classes I decided to add ballet shoes in my size to the order, along with a leotard and tights. I set myself a goal of a 30 minute class once a day and with a few exceptions I’ve stuck to this. And so, as a reward, I treated myself to a barre. It arrived yesterday, I did my first class with it this morning and I’m in love. It has been €90 well spent and it has sparked so much joy.

So this is about me and my barre, but its also about embracing what truly makes you happy, and realising that sometimes what made your heart sing at 12 is exactly what’ll make it sing nearly 30 years later. And not giving a damn about whether anyone thinks you’re too old, or not good enough. If you love it, and doing it never feels like a chore, embrace it, or re-embrace it. Its a very good feeling.

In Flux

Last Friday evening we once again endured the bongs of the angelus before a Major Announcement From The Taoiseach. I haven’t kept track of how many of these we’ve hand since the Before Times ended so abruptly in March 2020. They’ve been hopeful, emotional and boring, usually all at the same time. We’ve been told to stay at home, that we can’t do this or that, that things are terrible, that things are okay and that there is some reason to hope.

We watched and listened and I didn’t know how to feel. I felt flat and happy. We had decided to watch a film once the kids were in bed so that’s what we did. We sat on the same couch we’ve been sitting on to watch TV for the past 11 years, and which has been sat on far more frequently since March 2020.

The next morning, as I’d promised, I brought the kids shopping to spend money that’s been burning a hole in their pockets for months. We wore our masks, along with the vast majority of other shoppers. We had coffee and cakes and bought Lego.

On Sunday we all did antigen tests. We have boxes of them in the cupboard that also houses my cookbooks. When we watched the first Major Announcement, not in my wildest dreams did I think we’d all be swabbing our noses before going to another family’s home for Sunday lunch.

Yesterday, the kids had their second vaccine shots. There’s only one of here who hasn’t been vaccinated, and only because they can’t be as they’re under 5 years of age. I’m kind of holding my breath on that, and also slightly elated that we seem to have escaped infection for nearly two years now and wondering how long we can hold out on that score.

My head is all over the place. It seems foolish to make plans, because we’ve made so many that came to naught. I feel slightly giddy about being able to go on a holiday and bring the kids to a birthday party. I feel very anxious about having to resume a commute. I no longer seem to have a grasp on what I should take from the Before Times and and the Major Announcements.

It’s been reassuring to realise I’m not alone in not being able to read my feelings right now.

The Red Folder

Photo by Blue Ox Studio on Pexels.com

Since I started my job over a decade ago, one of the highlights of my year has been singing in the choir. We would start singing Christmas songs in September, in preparation for a carol service and other events. I never minded unseasonal music; I’ve always loved Christmas. I’m probably one of very few retail employees who enjoyed the influx of festive tunes starting in November. I loved the buzz and excitement of the busiest time of year.

I’m not often in my physical workplace these days. The last time I was, I cleared my desk and swept everything into a set of drawers underneath it so my laptop would fit in front of my computer. My red choir folder caught my eye. It’s a messy affair, full of printouts of music scores and the words of carols with scribbles and instructions all over the pages.

This is the second year we’ve had no rehearsals, no warm ups, no choosing of songs, no puzzling over harmonies, no listening to solos and no feeling our voices soar and people’s happiness listening to us. I really, really miss it, and in my most secret heart where I bury my most depressing thoughts since March 2020 I acknowledge that I may never need this folder again.

It’s a very, very small loss in the very, very large scheme of things. But it’s still a loss, and listening to Christmas songs this year does feel a little bittersweet.

Tiny Sparks of Joy

All the Lego. We managed to consolidate it recently so at least its all in the same place.

Bailey’s coffee on a Saturday afternoon after all the jobs and running around is done.

The new world of antigen tests we live in now. And not seeing two lines on any of them.

Christmas adverts on television.

A white A4 page that’s so full of stickers and happiness it makes me smile every time.