Rosie Scribble

The fragility of life

I’ve been thinking recently about the fragility of life, which I often do when there are news reports of people losing their lives in circumstances beyond their control. Like the horrific M5 motorway crash. I’m a bit doom and gloom like that.

So when IJ was driven off to school this morning, so I can do some packing for my trip away tomorrow, I was gripped by a sudden overwhelming panic at the thought of her being away from me and out of my sight.

Much as she would annoy me constantly if she was at my side, there is some reassuring about knowing exactly where she is and what she is doing. I like the idea of being at arm’s reach just in case I’m needed.

But I let her go, because I have to. It made me think about what really matters in my life, more than my work, more than this blog, more than all the perks and products I’ve enjoyed as a result.

Recently I heard two people getting angry because a lady had shut herself in a cubicle toilet and was talking on her mobile phone. They were annoyed because while she was in there, no-one else could use the cubicle, and they had better things to do with their time, they said.

The lady was phoning a friend for help. Her husband had dementia and she couldn’t get him out of bed. She needed to change his bedding but she had no way of doing so. And she had absolutely no help.

It reminded me that people that matter in life; the people we care for, the relationships we have. I’d still like a Kindle for Christmas and one day I’d quite like a Mac, but there’s more to life and life is precious. Hold it close.

Photo credit.

I take it all back

The scooter that is always left next to the oven.

The pile of DVDs next to the fireplace.

The rooms that will never look tidy.

The arrangement of Sylvanian Families on the floor that I have to step around each day.

The fact ketchup has to be added to every meal.

The constant crumps on the carpet.

The repetitive bedtime stories.

The writing on the bookcase and the wardrobe and, I notice, on two sections of wallpaper.

The nagging, the noise, the bedtime battles and my constant desire to get some peace and quiet.

I take it all back.

After just two days without IJ I’m partying like it’s 1999.

Except I didn’t like 1999.

So roll on next week when I join her on holiday.

Everything I said about single parenting being exhausting and demanding and draining, and everything else I may have thought in my head but not said out loud, I take it all back.

It is worth every single minute.

Becoming a good enough mum, eventually

It was a shock to find myself as a single mum with a newborn baby. It wasn’t part of life’s plan, it’s not as it should be, but it was our reality.

And I nearly blew it.

I had no idea what to do with a brand new baby and no maternal instinct kicked it to help me find my way through the minefield I suddenly found myself in. Whilst new motherhood should be one of the best times of your lives, it isn’t for many and it wasn’t for me.

It was tough going and for a while my ability to be an adequate mother was questioned, quite rightly, because I’d struggled to look after myself in the past. With the strain of parenting alone I fared no better. In fact, I did spectacularly badly.

With my health failing, I found myself under the watchful gaze of professionals. My biggest fear was that I would have no option but to consider adoption.

But I wanted my child with me despite my on-going struggles and the fact I knew I had a lot to learn when it came to caring for a child.

It took two years for me to really get my act together and by the skin of my teeth IJ wasn’t put up for adoption. We got through it but I came very close to losing her and I will never forget that. It taught me a lot and I hold her even tighter as a result.

Now, thanks to a lot of advice and support and my sheer bloody-mindedness to finally get this right no matter what, we are a fabulous little team.

I finally became a good enough mum.

But IJ will tell you I’m the best mum in the world and I’m not going to argue with that.

Together we did it. We got though the horrible stuff and came out the other side happier, healthier and facing an exciting future. Together.

The morale of this very long story cut short for the purpose of a blog post is that if I can do it anyone can. Trust me on that one.

This week’s gallery theme is: Mother love.

Now go off and love yourself just that little bit more. You’re doing a great job.

Silent Sunday: Lovebirds