tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71618796778668482912024-03-13T07:56:18.963-07:00The Musings of MeSarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-9282255708955562242017-06-18T04:27:00.001-07:002017-06-18T04:27:33.601-07:00Dear Dad, Happy Father's Day, Love Sarah xx<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dear Dad,</span></h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yKbnwHrAlF8/WUZh3BwFFDI/AAAAAAAABLA/glIRvpJGckggwNpmm93tWz7DgBw3Lr5CACLcBGAs/s1600/Unknown-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yKbnwHrAlF8/WUZh3BwFFDI/AAAAAAAABLA/glIRvpJGckggwNpmm93tWz7DgBw3Lr5CACLcBGAs/s320/Unknown-1.jpeg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our house is a cacophony of women. Loud, shouty women and on the edge of that is my dad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My dad is a gentleman. A gentle. man. There's not many of them there gentle men left in the world - and often as I was growing up I didn't see the impact or the benefit having a true gentleman in my life would bring.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My dad is like a calm lake...and my mum the bubbling waterfall that feeds it...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Growing up I may* have not quite seen the strength in my dad, in his quietness, in his ability to keep his mouth stum when the rest of the house was up in arms - but then when he did roar, it was definitely noticed...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There was the time when I tried to smother my sister, and he actually smacked me. I wasn't actually trying to smother her, of course, I just happened to have a pillow on her face...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then there was the time when me and mum had words and I got in proper trouble off Dad. It's rare that I ever fight with mum but I was a teenager and there had been words - and mum was mad. And I was mad. And we were both stubborn. And then dad stepped in and I got in proper trouble for not behaving properly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His quiet, fierce loyalty, the times when he has not quite approved (and said nothing) and his beaming pride on certain moments on my life as he grabs me in a bear hug are the things I cherish today. And the personality traits that only a true gentle man can display. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My mum is my go to person...she's the one that gets the call with me mildly hysterical because the stupid dog has eaten an easter egg - she's the one that calms me down with dad googling the symptoms in the background and applying his science maths geek to work out the ratio of chocolate to body weight to see if the dog is gonna cork it...(the dog didn't cork it).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xgfAwAGGLBQ/WUZiFVGl6oI/AAAAAAAABLI/InKR2NwJveQ0ysRScABcnBCDINQrlKPtwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/Unknown-8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xgfAwAGGLBQ/WUZiFVGl6oI/AAAAAAAABLI/InKR2NwJveQ0ysRScABcnBCDINQrlKPtwCK4BGAYYCw/s320/Unknown-8.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My dad sends me text in proper English and always signs off 'love dad.' He always starts the text properly with 'Dear Sarah'. He's told me he can't stand youth speak...he likes it all to be done properly...and at times this has caused much hilarity for me, mum and my sis...and he may** have been the butt of a few family jokes and jibes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But above it all my dad has always conducted himself as a gentle man...even when he's trying to get to grips with Call of Duty with my 11 year old. It's something I have only realised as I have got older - and looked around and realised that gentleness and calm are fierce strengths that not many people have.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He's picked me up year on year. Whenever we have needed a lift, wherever we were, my dad (and mum) have been there. I'm not sure I'm gonna be so good at that part of parenting for my two small things. I might just download them the Uber app.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He picked me up from the cinema when I was 14 years old and had sneaked in to watch the 18 Hellbound Hellraiser film and had mainly felt quite sick when the horror film unfolded and had to leave. Back in the day I had to find a phone box and ring home telling the rentals I didn't feel so good and they hightailed it to pick me up. They didn't comment on the fact I may** have been drinking some cider in Queen's Park before seeing said horror film and this may*** have the root of my queasiness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fast forward ten years later and I'm drunk in Manchester with my bestie and we can't get a taxi home, cue Dad Taxi..from Manchester to Bury. And all those taxi trips in between; often with me being tipsy....and Dad calmly driving with no judgement.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There was the time I drove his brand new company car. He had let me drive his brand spanking new red Ford Sierra to work while he took my battered fiesta - and then I crashed it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I knew when I rang him, he would mainly be concerned for me - and never (rarely) showed how annoyed he really was with me as he had to head into work and admit his brand new car had been smacked into the car in front by his rather irresponsible daughter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And now he is a Granddad to three, not so small, small things. And he never says NO to them. He tries to help. In Cornwall, he goes rockpooling, he carries as much stuff off the beach as is humanely possible including the kids' surfboards. And when he hightails it over here after work on a the odd Wednesday he's as happy playing Call of Duty as he is watching them play cricket. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Did I mention he's still working - at 70 something. Flying all over the world and still bringing home the bacon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So on this day, Father's Day, I raise a glass to my wonderful dad and thank him for consistently showing me what a gentleman is - and always should be...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g6F142QOFGk/WUZivMB_GuI/AAAAAAAABLU/i5sIhPBXGHEypP0I2LMYpTSZteEpT5bQwCLcBGAs/s1600/Unknown-7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1414" data-original-width="1414" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g6F142QOFGk/WUZivMB_GuI/AAAAAAAABLU/i5sIhPBXGHEypP0I2LMYpTSZteEpT5bQwCLcBGAs/s320/Unknown-7.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To all the dads and gentle men out there....Happy Father's Day.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And finally...</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>Dear Dad,</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>Thank you for being so feckin**** fabulous.</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>Love</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>Sarah</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>xxx</b></i></span><br />
<br />
*definitely didn't<br />
** definitely has<br />
*** definitely was<br />
**** he also really hates me swearingSarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-85598898726577266252017-06-14T12:36:00.001-07:002017-06-14T12:36:15.231-07:00Out of the mouth of babes<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Parentdom...the phrases chapter.</span></h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sK_B60OZ_68/WUGP8_PmJBI/AAAAAAAABKs/aSKBcsdGhoMry9p34pTPQmU-QGOH08z1gCLcBGAs/s1600/Unknown.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sK_B60OZ_68/WUGP8_PmJBI/AAAAAAAABKs/aSKBcsdGhoMry9p34pTPQmU-QGOH08z1gCLcBGAs/s320/Unknown.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the beginning there was a baby. Your baby. A beautiful gurgling bundle of joy.* And then that baby grew. You watched that baby's every move, encouraging them to roll over, to crawl, to walk and ...to talk. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To talk...we encouraged them to talk. We did this. It was us...and then the talking didn't stop - and then the phrases came....phrases that can pinpoint milestones in the progressing years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But in all the years (so far) there has to be one feckin phrase that tops the charts as THE PHRASE guaranteed to make every parent want to fall to the floor and have their own big fat gigantic tantrum. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Topping the charts of this never ending list of the phrases of doom has to be......</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In. A. Minute. </span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's a standard phrase in my house. The fifteen year old and the eleven year old use it more often than <i>'What's for tea? and I'm hungry.'</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It doesn't matter what is being asked of my beautiful babies, there is a standard response.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Me:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Can you go and get the seventy billion glasses you have left in your rooms as we're now drinking water out of egg cups?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Reply: in a minute. </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Me:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Can you put your shoes on? Because we're going out in the car to take you to your cricket match." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Reply: in a minute. </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Me:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Can you go to bed?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Silence. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Me:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Repeat three times. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Reply: in a minute. </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Cue loud screaming from me; followed by....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"<i>Mum why are you being so grumpy? There's no need to shout. We'll do it/go/get it IN A MINUTE."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Me. Rocks in a corner. Opens wine and pours bottle down neck. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's a phrase that can incite a rage in even the most perfect of parents. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Out of the mouth of babes comes the phrases of doom. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nearly topping the charts has to be the clamour from my poor starving mites who haven't been fed for years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The scenarios sometimes differ but usually I am in a meeting and my phone rings. Seeing the name and number of my most cherished of humans, I immediately grab the phone wondering what could have happened, immediately starting to pack up my bags and shrug my shoulders at my colleagues who recognise the face of a worried parent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then the voice on the other end of the phone echoes down that there telephone wire. Trembling I wait for that nanosecond, mainly shitting myself that something terrible has happened....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Mum, what time are you home? What's for tea?</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Stuff my meetings. Sod my professionalism. Who needs to work. My poor starving children need me. They need feeding. They will have opened the fridge and stared in dismay at the spinach and broccoli staring at them (of course I'm on a diet). They needed proper food. They needed someone to come home and do it for them. Immediately.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sometimes. Just sometimes the phone doesn't ring. Sometimes I get all the way home, open the front door and yell 'Helloooooooo' to the household. The stupid dog hurtles at me, happy to see me, but silence from humans mainly greets me. The son is of course killing people on his xbox and the daughter is revising.*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I holler again. HEEEELLLLLLLOOOOOOO</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I get a response:</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="p1">
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Oh hi mum, what's for tea?"</span></i></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Oh hi kids. How are you? I'm fine thanks. I've hightailed it down the motorway at speeds faster than light to get home from the office just so I can cook your tea. I've still got my coat on. I've not had a wee since 6.38am but I am going to hurry the fuck along and make your tea because your lives are so terrible."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">25 minutes later. Waffles, eggs and beans are on the table (it's Tuesday okay. There's football and cricket so there's no chance of any home made sauces, proper food or even a sense of trying). </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">26 minutes later I shout....Tea's ready. Come on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>"In a minute" </i>comes the bloody chorus. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Opens another bottle of wine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">* joy = mainly cacophony of screaming until dummy was applied</span></div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">** watching NCIS with her computer open</span></div>
Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-63741584174354648632017-05-23T13:39:00.000-07:002017-05-23T13:39:50.551-07:00Cotton wool and Bubble wrap<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Can I wrap my small things in cotton wool?</span></h2>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">All I want to do is wrap my babies in cotton wool.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In fact not just cotton wool but cotton wool with bubble wrap on top and then mainly not let them out of the house. Ever. Again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7xwu_lw4dPk/WSSaidPfsnI/AAAAAAAABJI/0jtQW2yV3AQDSZE_MMYvw_M71134qo90QCK4B/s1600/Unknown-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7xwu_lw4dPk/WSSaidPfsnI/AAAAAAAABJI/0jtQW2yV3AQDSZE_MMYvw_M71134qo90QCK4B/s320/Unknown-1.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In fact first I'll move to the mountains and then wrap them in cotton wool and apply the bubble wrap. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But then in the mountains, there's ice and cars and slipping and falling off mountains so actually I think I'll move to Cornwall. That will be okay because there's not that many people ...... but oh then there's the sea and rip tides and currents and dangerous sports. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I guess what I'm saying, what I'm admitting is that I'm pretty neurotic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">From the minute they've been born, from the nano second my small things breathed their own air and pregnancy turned into the reality of parenthood I've mainly been worried. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Not just worried. Frankly shitting myself. Will they breathe? She's slept a night, is she alive? He's walked into a door with his head (again), will he have brain damage? It's mainly been a constant stream of possible options where my babies could maim and damage themselves. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I actually thought it would get easier. I thought once they had got past the point where they tripped through their toddler years and started to understand the spoken word it would be okay and I would worry less but as it turns out I just worry about different stuff. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I watch my fiercely independent 15 year old cycle off with her friends and my heart is in my mouth and now to add to the terror they take the 11 year old with them on their biking adventures. The 15yo is off to the Trafford Centre on a bus, and tonight a car kindly clipped her handle bars as she cycled herself home from being out with her friends. I try and keep them safe. It's mainly my mission in life. My mantra...Keep my small things alive, then keep me alive and then no other fecker I love is allowed to die along the way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then you're scrolling twitter at 10.30pm at night and there's the news that something has happened at a concert. A concert where I would assume my small things would be safe. There's security. It's inside. There's no mountains to fall off. A concert where the average age is young. So surely that means extra security and extra safety. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A concert taking place in a venue where I took my small things less than two weeks ago to watch Bruno Mars and then I realise that no matter what I do I just can't protect them 24/7 just like those parents treading through the treacle of their darkest days couldn't protect their babies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's horrifying. It's heartbreaking - and I can't imagine how those parents are coping with this. I've mainly felt sick all day but I also know that moving to the lakes, the mountains, the sea and wrapping them in a bubble wrap cotton wool sandwich is not the answer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The answer is for me to help them live. Live every moment and not be afraid. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And I'm going to do that. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_w-00QjYLxg/WSSdOpDGJoI/AAAAAAAABJU/GZ7BfL2g7uABtzPa35oHC-YlyJsQvJLfACK4B/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_w-00QjYLxg/WSSdOpDGJoI/AAAAAAAABJU/GZ7BfL2g7uABtzPa35oHC-YlyJsQvJLfACK4B/s200/Unknown.jpeg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Whilst I mainly quake in my boots I'm going to help them live their lives. I'm going to watch them cycle off with their friends (wearing a helmet), I'm going to drop them off at gigs and I'm going to sit on the beach and watch them surf. Because it's my job. It's my job to guide them on the right path but also to let them go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyone got any bubble wrap? Maybe just a bit. Maybe just one layer. (Asking for a friend)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">#StayStrongOurKid</span></div>
Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-76054793337894926382016-07-11T13:26:00.000-07:002016-07-11T13:27:47.994-07:00What if I fall?<h2>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dear daughter,</span></h2>
<h3>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It appears you are taking baby steps...away from me.</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It appears I am rapidly becoming redundant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">(</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Well apart from my access to that money tree and taxi services.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It appears that with every given day you change right before my eyes, my little girl is growing up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My little girl is growing up at a rate of knots. Blink and there's a new sign of the young woman developing before me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Every day you seem to be taking a step away from me. Steps to a new future, a future of new friends, new experiences and ones where I won't be at your side to watch over you - ones where I will be on the sidelines.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You shall be forever shrouded in the protection of this parental blanket - but the blanket these days is thinner and less visible. You don't hang onto my shirt tails anymore, they are more likely to provide a launch pad taking you in a new direction.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Once the slightly anxious child not entirely comfortable with herself, you are now this beautiful creature inside and out, opinionated, caring, passionate about your beliefs and happy to disagree with mine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Every day I have encouraged you to grow. Just as I encouraged you to take your first steps. But every day now it makes me heart beat faster and more furiously knowing that I am encouraging you to step away from me and step into your independence and your future. A future forged without me as the centrifugal force.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A future dictated by your own hopes, needs, desires and ambitions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And all of a sudden, I now realise that now my job as a parent becomes even more difficult. As I can no longer control,* I can only guide. And be here whenever you need me. And you may not need me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Tonight you needed me to be home when you got back from your first baby sitting job - but tomorrow you won't. Tomorrow you will be happy in the knowledge it's another thing you can do alone.**</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As a parent I know the best thing I can do is not cover you in bubble wrap but give you the courage to experience this thing called life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And it scares me more than it scared me watching you breathe throughout your first night on this earth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I genuinely thought parenting got easier. I thought I would never mirror the helplessness I felt waking in the night and watching you sleep terrified that cot death would come and claim you. (not that that happened a lot as you never blinkin slept).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But now as I begin the journey to set you free in this big bad wide world the fear is even bigger. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Because I can no longer watch your every breath, I have to wait in the sidelines ready to help if you need me but knowing in reality you will need me less and less.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But if and when you do, I will always be here*** (possibly a bit drunk).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Love your mum</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">*For the purposes of clarity (and in case said daughter is actually reading this) I am still in control, no you can't do whatever you want and I am still in absolute charge - and will be forever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">** which is probably quite a good job as I will be out drinking gin</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">*** when I say here, I mainly mean somewhere in the world on a beach with wifi</span></div>
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Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-46887610769309776252016-03-28T04:10:00.000-07:002016-03-28T04:10:21.542-07:00Airport Musings<h3>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Traveller</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I spend quite a lot of time at airports of late. The fact that my work colleagues have started referring to me as Judith Chalmers has not escaped me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I think I've almost mastered the art of the travelling alone; in fact I think I've almost mastered the art of looking like I know what I'm doing; sauntering casually wandering through the airport with the air of someone who is frankly a traveling hipster (complete with sushi and coffee).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had a kindle (note the past tense - I also left said kindle in security - apologies if that caused any unnecessary alarms) so now I arm myself with the traditional paperback at the flight gate and do one of my favourite things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">People watch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Airports have to be the ultimate place to bring together all manner of people - all crammed together on one tiny space for a period of time with No Escape.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There's <b>The Suit.</b> The ultimate business traveler. Still wearing his suit, he wanders up and down the airport lounge talking with an air of importance on his mobile wishing he had enough business expenses to travel first class.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then there's always <b>The fraught.</b> The ubiquitous traveling family. Fraught with bickering children, errant husbands and the possibility that the technology may run out before the actual plane journey starts combining to make the start of most holidays for the average family stressful. Throw in a screaming 2 year old and a lost blankie and there's grounds for a full on melt down - and that's just mum. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Enter <b>The weekenders.</b> The group of boys - when I say boys - I mainly mean older men. Seasoned travellers on the return home from a weekend away from responsibility. Seasoned travellers who of course don't try and kill each other on a Ryan Air flight but who may have spend four days reliving their youth. Seasoned travellers who now look like former shadows of themselves after a few days on a boys weekend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>The Smug</b> smiles serenely at the chaos around them and thanks their lucky stars they are The Smug. The Smug is a modern day traveller cruising from destination to destination. They embrace the epitome of airplane etiquette. Headphones at the ready, iPhone fully charged, music ready to play and a travelling Mac a constant companion. Ready and all tech'd up to cope with the curiosities of cruising through an airport. Until of course the Internet connection fails and then The Smug resembles a poor broken lost puppy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then my pet airport hate. <b>The PDA couple. </b>The snuggling couple - they can be any age; young or old; but grouped together by their need to constantly show each other how much they love being together in an airport watched by thousands of people. Breezing through the airport with a 'love is' cloud wavering above their heads as they consistently stop to share a kiss, a snuggle and maybe take a selfie to show the world (beyond the airport) how much in love they are, these people need a room of their own at airports.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And finally there's me. <b>The pretender.</b> Head burrowed in a book, constantly checking travel documents, trying to appear nonchalant, wondering if my passport has managed to become out of date since the last time I checked, wondering if my lost kindle is going to mean we all have to evacuate the airport. I'm always the one in the line for the full body search (when will I learn to take my bracelet off) and I always sit a bit too close to the flight departure boards so I can mainly stare at it and pray the flight leaves on time otherwise I'm gonna be late getting the kids (again).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I thought I had it all nailed. I thought I knew all the groups in the airport lounge. I knew what to expect. I knew all the different idiosyncrasies of the people that populate the airport lounge.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I got on the plane. And sat next to <b>The Snircher.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Snircher sniffed, snirched and snotted throughout the entire journey. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Rubbing his sleeve across his nose that only a 15 year old on a school trip seems to think it's acceptable to do, he then ordered olives (obviously from south manchester) and played on his phone in airplane mode. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And snirched with such wild abandon that he nearly ended up being forced through the airplane window (by me). And then he got up - I thought he might have been going to get a tissue - but no, he just wanted to snirch at his mate in the next row - and I noticed he had tracksuit bottoms falling off his non existent butt showing his feckin underpants which I did not want to see.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I then learnt a new lesson.* Do not ever give up your seat so a mother and daughter can sit together. The Snircher could be waiting for you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thankfully I have yet to see a group of girls traveling in their curlers and pjs. But I mainly think that's cos I'm not on a flight to Majorca.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*I actually learnt two lessons that day. Do not try and take a picture to showcase the riduculousenss of such attire as you may be caught by the snircher and you may look like a wrong 'un and it may be interpreted badly.</span></div>
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Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-6687722513728839812016-02-20T09:54:00.000-08:002016-02-20T10:02:45.300-08:00Adventures across the pond...<h3>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">School trips have changed....</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One week and one day ago, I waved goodbye to the 13 year old at Manchester Airport as we watched a group of school kids go off on a school trip.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Not to Wigan Pier, not to Conwy Castle, not to the Lake District but to travel thousands of miles across the pond for a week's skiing in New Hampshire and two days in NYC.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The anxious one was most anxious about her travelling so far away.....and so was the 13 year old. It was made all the more tearful by the 4am drop off at the airport with not even a cup of coffee to calm the nerves. The next ten hours were mainly spent obsessing watching flight tracker as her plane managed to avoid the terrible potential disasters I had imagined and landed safely in Boston.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The joy of social media alleviated the school trip parent stress syndrome (STPSS) as the lovely teachers updated regularly on a (private) twitter account.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Five days of skiing then ensued with various pictures of the girls looking more and more tired. The pictures of the parents would have showed far more wrinkles, more stress and more tiredness than displayed during the first years of parenting. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Who knew that an exciting adventure for the 13 year old would manifest in such parental panic for me. I naively thought that as my small things grew up, I would worry less. As I became more confident that they would breathe through the night, I would start to chill out on their development, growth and survival. But it turns out that when you put a 13 year old on a plane from Manchester to Boston that invisible umbilical cord that continues to bind us together is stretched a little bit farther than I would like.</span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-57mWVvmyp_I/Vsip9iZ2ZzI/AAAAAAAABAE/6Htc9gkfdwM/s1600/affd022af01a13473d0e2e5bd00d428e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-57mWVvmyp_I/Vsip9iZ2ZzI/AAAAAAAABAE/6Htc9gkfdwM/s200/affd022af01a13473d0e2e5bd00d428e.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Who knew that parents would panic like this? When I buggered off on my school ski trip I never gave my parents a passing thought (sorry mum, oops dad). When we were stranded in Dover for 18 hours waiting for the ferry (no flights in them there days) I didn't think whether my mum and dad would be wondering where I was, I was simply staring at the White Cliffs of Dover.*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When we were skiing in France, I didn't consider that mum and dad may be spending every day wondering whether I was safe, happy and well - and all without wifi and mobile phones to allow me to check in.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h-hSbiFoggc/Vsip6XNl5TI/AAAAAAAABAA/42e4mJGF_3k/s1600/08ebb2e585121becad4a5dae501f95a3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h-hSbiFoggc/Vsip6XNl5TI/AAAAAAAABAA/42e4mJGF_3k/s200/08ebb2e585121becad4a5dae501f95a3.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> 'This is what I'm having for breakfast' text</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've heard from the 13 year old (almost) daily. To be fair I have mainly heard what she has had for breakfast, a question as to whether she should change her thermals on the third day (erm yes) and other random text that mainly didn't include her skiing adventures. But she was in contact - and so I knew she was alive (minimising the need for the healing powers of wine to cope with STPSS)*.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And then tomorrow the traveller returns home. I will squeeze her so tight when I finally see her face in the airport tomorrow (following a traumatic 12 hours ahead tracking flights across a rather large expanse of water) and hug her close and thank the heavens she is back where she belongs...and then I reckon I will probably start shouting within about 30 minutes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And normality will resume. I. cannot. wait.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">*that's a lie, we may have been chatting to boys from Dover</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">* again that's a lie, there's always a need for wine</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-19797503278128253802015-12-17T14:11:00.000-08:002015-12-17T14:11:17.747-08:00The days shoes defined my life<h3>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And it's all my mother's fault...</span></h3>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The beginning of the story:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I ran away from home.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The end of the story:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have a collection of shoes. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Lined up and on show on my top floor, my story of shoes translate through decades of stories and adventures. Through periods of partying shown in scuffed heels and even the odd old skool trainer playing homage to the warehouse parties of old, there's rack upon rail of shoes taking up valuable space in the house - but I can't bring myself to part with even one pair.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There's basically a shoe for every occasion - the shoes I wore in my first job in PR, the expensive shoes I justified the purchase of because they were sort of in the sale, the summer sandals that have walked beaches from Morecambe to Mexico - and of course the boots that have downed shots in the snow. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">From disco dancing to dog walking my shoe collection is pretty large.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And yesterday I realised it all dates back to the day I ran away from home. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The day I realised - aged 9 - that if you had on the right pair of shoes they (possibly) gave you permission to do (almost) anything.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was nine. It was an intense period of my life. Primary school Bulldog 123 was high on the agenda (was I ever going to catch the fastest boy in the school), I was learning to do the rising trot and wondering why mum was just not letting me do what I wanted to do in my independent life as a mature know it all nine year old.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I told her straight. I had demands. I didn't want to make blackcurrant cheescake on a Saturday afternoon. And I did want to walk Blackie (the rabbit) on his lead whenever I wanted.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If we couldn't reach an amicable agreement, I would run away from home. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would leave, go out the door, not to return here anymore. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That would learn her.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Except. She offered to help me pack. And she did. She actually packed my suitcase for me until there was only my going away outfit to decide until I flounced out of her life forever.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And it came down to my shoes. All I remember about that defining outfit were my shoes. My beautiful slightly pointy black patent kitten heels (what was she thinking letting me have kitten heels at that age).</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway those black shoes were the equivalent of Dorothy's shiny red ones and they were going to transport me to the yellow brick road of my dreams.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bags packed. Shoes on. I was ready to go. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mum handed me the case and saw me out of the front door shutting it soundly behind me signalling the start of my journey.......to the third step down.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Where I sat and waited. And realised I had no plan. And quite crucially nowhere to go. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And was now a little bit worried that mum really was quite happy for me to leave home and forage for my own future. After all she would be saving on some significant school fees.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway - thankfully there is a happy ending to this dark tale of childhood trauma. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She gave me a good ten hours* sitting on that third step to completely freak me out, all I could do was stare at the one beautiful thing left in my life - my slightly pointy black patent kitten heels - before she opened the front door and welcomed me back home like the long lost, fiercely independent traveller I was. Narnia had nothing on me.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TPBMcnqomQ4/VnMykHD0OsI/AAAAAAAAA-s/qnjFKSL_7Fc/s1600/shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TPBMcnqomQ4/VnMykHD0OsI/AAAAAAAAA-s/qnjFKSL_7Fc/s200/shoes.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Back in the security of the mother land, my shoes remained on - a marker in the sand for something I almost did.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And so my love affair with shoes was begun - maybe hoping each new pair will take me on a new adventure - or perhaps that mum will always rescue me (profound).</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today up there on the top floor of the house, I have rather a number of markers in the sand, all marking different adventures but none quite as special as those black patent kitten heels.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And mum kept trying to make me leave home - only really succeeding when I was 28 years old. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*minutes</span></div>
Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-3928749087920035422015-11-17T12:42:00.001-08:002015-11-17T12:44:18.987-08:00A Silent Sunday<h3>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So that was the weekend that was.</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There you are planning a silent Sunday. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A day of mooching. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A halcyon homage to bimbling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A day of doing nothing. Nada. Not a sausage. The plan is a blank sheet of paper.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A day devoted to chilling. An easy Sunday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It all starts so well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A long lie (well until 9am). I remember those good old days when I had on my rose tinted specs when a long lie meant lying in luxury until noon, but hey you gotta take what you can when you can. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So there I was - a long lie, slowly waking up, wandering downstairs to get a proper coffee that has bubbled to pouring perfection on the stove before wandering back upstairs to sink back into that delicious duvet to enjoy a slurp of the most important drink of the day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then chaos claps on its hat and reigns down harder and faster that the storm of Barney can unleash its hell. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Enter stupid dog. The dog bounds in. The stupid dog bounds on the bed, coffee spills onto lovely clean duvet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then small things wake. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then a lovely autumnal dog walk which mainly involves a lost dog and four small things skiing down a slope of autumn leaves (which to be fair looked like fun), a dog in the rain overflow channel (equals a minging dog that still stinks), a wet dog, sodden kids and frankly not enough coffee to drown out the noise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A respite was offered. A coffee with a friend. Thirty minutes to chew the cud, actually drink a full cup of coffee whilst repeatedly asking the 13yo and 9yo to leave me alone for just ten minutes so I could have one grown up conversation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then a quick shopping trip for promised new trainers for the 9yo (old trainers were presenting holes found during sodden dog walk) followed by the Tesco dash for the week's packed lunches (would have gone to Aldi but parking was an issue) and oh sh*t forgot to wash the school uniforms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Two hasty washes later and a tea with friend beckons. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The 9yo then tries to wear his favourite shirt (still wet on the radiator after earlier hasty washing), I remove said wet shirt to a sulky face and persuade 9yo to wear a dry item of clothing from his drawer as the 13 yo informs me she's got a sore throat (join the club) and we dash to the local Italian for an long and lazy tea.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A restaurant, a steak and a 13yo that decides she's not feeling well and frankly a bit faint - complete with comical head wobbling at the table.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dramatics ensue, restaurant abandoned (steak inhaled, wine abandoned). 13 yo voms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Vom cleaned up. 13 yo put to bed (complete with additional dramatics - turns out her nose is more blocked than anybody's nose has ever been blocked before).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">9yo put to bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">13yo traumatized because she can't breathe through her nose. Vicks applied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Inhales wine. Me not the 13yo - she's still whimpering at the loss of nose breathing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Bed beckons. The duvet greets me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Air punches to a successful Silent Sunday.*</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Next time I plan an easy Sunday, I'm just gonna run a half marathon. It would be easier.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">*That was a lie, falls in bed in a knackered stupor</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> waiting for the ticking timebomb that is the 13yo's midnight vomming.</span>Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-83405198159226119042015-11-13T05:36:00.000-08:002015-11-13T05:36:14.063-08:00A letter to my friendDear beautiful friend,<br />
<br />
You've gone. It's finally sinking in.<br />
<br />
I'm sitting here surrounded by work, we have bid you farewell and then it strikes me - there's no more texting.<br />
<br />
I've realised this is when I'm going to miss you most - on the stupid, small, insignificant moments when I would text you to see if you're in for a brew, for a skive, to have a whinge, to talk about the new beau in my life.<br />
<br />
It's those small moments that made our friendship - there weren't any big holidays, we didn't even go on that many mental nights out, but you were part of the fabric of my life, the day to day intertwined happenings of the small stuff.<br />
<br />
The moments where we simply sat and chewed the cud, talked about nonsense - and as it turns out I can't even remember half the conversations.<br />
<br />
What it has made me realise is what makes a friend (well to be honest I sort of knew that already) - and your illness and passing - has also made me realise how lucky and blessed I am.<br />
<br />
In this quagmire of grief, there's also so much to smile about. Turns out grief ricochets likes ripples in the pond, in the epicentre is your hub and two small things and then as the ripples span out like skimming stones there's a support network of people for every ripple in that pond. As I tried to help you and yours, people were helping me and mine, making me thankful for all the beautiful friends (and family) I have in my own life.<br />
<br />
So while I sit here - missing you in this moment, in a week where I have also been grateful for the extra time I suddenly have in my life - instead of texting you, I've text other beautiful friends and got replies that have made me smile and made me grateful for all my blessings.<br />
<br />
There's a saying - don't sweat the small stuff - but it's the small stuff that counts. It's the small stuff that grows into the big things - and frankly I like the small stuff.<br />
<br />
The small moments that make you belly laugh in life, the stupid notes the small things write, walking the dog in the rain and looking up to be slapped in the face by a great big fat leaf, going to the gym and getting a random hug from a spin girl because no words are needed.<br />
<br />
It's these things that frame our life, that become our constants and our stories. And it's the small things I will mainly try and remember - if my memory wasn't so pants.<br />
<br />
Yours,<br />
<br />
Me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-4742426902489511152015-08-21T11:35:00.000-07:002015-08-21T11:38:24.695-07:00Sunshine, small things and (not too much) sangria....<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Single parenting in the sunshine....</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Being a single parent for the past five years has thrown a number of curve balls - some that have landed loudly, repetitively bouncing in the hallway in the shape of another football and some in the shape of my head banging against a wall....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Luckily, I'm well past that first year of single parent insanity where every new challenge seems like a hurdle that grew bigger than Mount Everest every time I tried to climb it. Now it's rare I have a mountain to climb, and the world of single parenting is really a walk in the park.* </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I rarely blog about the whole single parenting schizzle because it's mainly not about me being a single parent. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's just about me being a parent. And I'm single...(some of the time).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But there are times when carrying that single parent label becomes bigger than it should be - it moves from being a small identichip I happen to have to a mahoosive billboard advertising my status.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There's the misconceptions - yes I'm single, I'm not going to steal your husband or the yes I'm single, I'm not going to suddenly make your mrs misbehave. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thankfully for me this rarely happens mainly because I have a pretty fantastic group of friends but I know they still exist. And in general I've been misbehaving with all these friends for many years well before I was single. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the main, I reckon I have nailed the whole single parent thing. The cellar bootcamp for the small things was one of the more successful parenting techniques I employed and copious amounts of wine have also helped the flow of the single parent journey.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then this year...the dawn of the summer holidays. A joyous time in every (single) parent's calendar - right up there with bank holidays and Christmas. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What to do. When. How to plan. Who with. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then the momentous decision - to go it alone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A holiday with the small things. Just me. And them. The three of us. One adult (debatable) and two children.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Before I could wimp out I booked it. Ready. Willing. And rather nervous.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then we arrived. The airport negotiated perfectly. The flight a breeze. The sun shining. The apartment perfect (with the door blocked at night by two suitcases and a dressing table in case anyone tried to get in).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was the most chilled - I would even say chill-axed if it wasn't one of the worst words in the new dictionary of today - I have been in a long time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Just me. And them. And 3,245 games of Uno, 2,765 games of Go Fish, 10,000 attempts to get three of us to swim across the pool whilst riding the giant inflatable crocodile (that was a good look in a bikini), four shows, three diving competitions, two doggy paddle races and one bike ride.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uEmSt7cGqzk/VddwBiydkyI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/3Sf4C6fM-7A/s1600/2015-08-01%2B18.44.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uEmSt7cGqzk/VddwBiydkyI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/3Sf4C6fM-7A/s320/2015-08-01%2B18.44.27.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I even turned my emails off. Obviously I didn't turn off the 24/7 support text service from friends and me mum on every given detail of the holiday. That would have been a ridiculous concept - and a step too far.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In summary - one of the most relaxing holidays ever - I even swam underwater to beat them in ALL swimming races. No prizes for second place in this family.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There were times I was conscious of the big fat single parent arrow that hovered above my head announcing my presence to all the smug married couples around me but I mainly didn't care cos we had fun and we did what we do every time we are together and I am relaxed - we mainly laughed. The constant (all inclusive) supply of wine obviously helped. Although disappointingly it appears that the 13 year old isn't allowed to order me wine from the bar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Perhaps most importantly it gave me proper time with the small things - and as it turns out they're quite good fun to be around. Well most of the time. Except when they decided it would be a really great idea to get me with the water guns when I was particularly relaxed with a good book - then shouty mum returned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I did it. A summer holiday with my small things and I didn't feel that the big fat single parent arrow glowed too large above me head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And the best bit....the small things told me it was the best holiday they had EVER been on. *Air Punch*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And the second best bit. I came home. They went away with their dad (that's not the second best bit) and I buggered off for three days of drinking in the sun with my friends with no parent guilt following me around tapping me on my shoulder (now that's the second best bit).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But for the record I never want to see another game of Uno again ever. Or Go Fish. Well maybe until next year when </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm thinking we go Greek Island hopping ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*walk in the park aided by wine</span>Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-70512135802685372442015-06-18T06:16:00.001-07:002015-06-18T06:16:58.497-07:00The humble hankerchief - and the checklist<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The story of the hankerchief.</span></h2>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bear with me on this one. It's a story of the humble hankerchief. And the checklist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The hankerchief - a square piece of cotton a gentleman keeps in one's pocket - and then snots all over and put back in one's pocket.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The checklist - the non negotiables you have on an unwritten checklist that allows you to pick a mate, a partner, a boyf, a lover, a friend. The unwritten checklist covers a number of different pointers - and differs from one person to another.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Not only does the said checklist differ from one person to another - it also changes as you get older.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Reaching my middle youth and finding myself single made me think about my checklist. It heralded the beginnings of a new checklist.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My checklist in my naive 20s was relatively simple.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Someone hot. Subconsciously I think I wanted to find a mate. Someone I could build a family with. Have beautiful children with.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I rocked that box. Tick. Big. Tick.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And then life changes and your outlook changes. Circumstances change and what was so important in your twenties - or even thirties - has a slightly different accent in your (ahem) forties (early forties I hasten to add).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Suddenly single and embracing a single life, with the aid of a bottle (or two) of fine wine (or whatever was on offer at Tesco) and good friends - the conversation turned to what one is searching for and what one should be searching for in a potential partner now - in the here and now - in the present moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Turns out the new checklist is quite different to that </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">that there one in my twenties.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm not so interested in the breeding potential. I am interested in friendship.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am interested in respect. And I am wanting someone who gets my back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And still someone hot - preferably with the looks of say Bradley Cooper or even Damien Lewis.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm told I'm too fussy (from those good friends mentioned above). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm told I need to look beyond my need for someone who is 6ft or over (a girl needs to wear heels).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then you meet someone. Someone who doesn't necessarily fit into the exact checklist - but all the same ticks a lot of boxes. And then you realise they have a hankie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A hankie. They blow their nose into a hankie. They put said hankie back into their pocket. And then put it into a washing machine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They even occasionally offer me a hankie. I managed to hide my silent gip at the thought.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the halcyon days of a new romance the hankie means nothing. It's something that doesn't need to be on the checklist. It's a hankie - a piece of cotton that in the old days defined a gentleman.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's fine. I can cope with a piece of cotton. Everything else is okay. (Except the height but again that's remarkably okay).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then it ends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And I realise the hankie is so not okay.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The hankie is wrong. And it wasn't just the hankie. Turns out the hankie wasn't big enough. There was a migration to a TEA TOWEL.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The day he blew his nose into a tea towel (thankfully his) marked the end of time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And time to review the checklist. A little bit more attention to detail is required on the non negotiables. Some caveats needs to be added.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We've got to have fun. Be friends. We've got to laugh. A propensity to drink fine wine - especially on a winesday is essential.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Someone who respects me. Someone who has my back.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A gentleman.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And right there at the top of the list.......someone who doesn't have a hankie.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have a new checklist.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Or maybe. I simply throw the checklist away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I just count my blessings for the fantabulous life I have. For the fact I have never and will never wash a hankie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For the beautiful small things I have. (who also are not allowed hankies...or sleeves)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For the fab times we have.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For the real friends where we laugh until the tears drip down my cheeks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For the family who are just always there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The checklist is out of the window.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today is about the here and now.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And no hankies. Definitely no hankies. They are wrong.*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*apologies to anyone that uses a hankie</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">** the above is a lie. Stop using them. They're wrong.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-41269934229125430492015-06-05T09:20:00.003-07:002015-06-05T09:20:41.261-07:00Respect your elders...or something<h3>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Old bints vs the rise of the pram army.</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who would win?</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's a tough one...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was always brought up to respect your elders and try and instil the same sage advice into my small things.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I ensure they hold doors open for the older generation and when the nine year careers into one of them there old people from a different time, I ensure he apologises for his high jinks and understands that his running around is only upsetting the old one because he can't run that fast anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vDs56UZ4jrY/VXHMHo_WViI/AAAAAAAAA6k/zLg5w3aQo8c/s1600/respect%2Byour%2Belders%2B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vDs56UZ4jrY/VXHMHo_WViI/AAAAAAAAA6k/zLg5w3aQo8c/s200/respect%2Byour%2Belders%2B.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so to this morning - the gym. Post spin class. An empty changing room. An early morning. A quick shower before running (well after a coffee obviously) to a meeting. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On my return from the shower resplendent in a leopard skin beach towel, the area where I had placed my lone bag was surrounded by the older generation (and cupcakes) who had just appeared from their aqua aerobics bounce session.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Busy discussing their class (as we all do) and the cupcake recipe for Doreen's birthday (as we all do) not one of them moved to the side so I could even get to my bag to retrieve my office uniform. I'm not sure the leopard skin beach towel is appropriate meeting wear - even in today's modern casual climes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Respecting my elders (as I always do) I smiled (through gritted teeth) and politely asked if I could retrieve my gym bag from the midst of the cauldron. I was ignored. Completely and utterly dripping wet and invisible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Once again I politely and a wee bit louder (taking into account the possibility that hearing aids may have become water logged during said aqua class) asked if they could move. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally one of the 'ladies' moved to the side so I could squeeze into a small gap WHERE MY BAG WAS FIRST and retrieved said bag. I even said Thank you. I then managed to get changed having moved all my gym schiz to a different area. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I was minding my manners, I was respecting my elders, but where was their respect for me. They could while away the day eating cupcakes with Doreen but not one of them had the good grace to move aside so I could also get changed. Or even for that matter move aside so I could get my blinkin' bag.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then there was the mirror fiasco. Doreen's precious cupcakes had been placed on the ONE free dressing area where one dries one's hair (something else I deem relatively important when attending a client meeting). I painstakingly picked my way once again through the Gaggle of Grannies to find the hairdryer and the cupcakes to place my make-up bag between my knees so that the cupcakes could retain pride of place. I even apologised for having to use said hairdryer in the vicinity of the cupcakes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I managed to dry my hair (a bit) and splodge on some mascara, I seethed. Surely respect is a two way street. Surely regardless of generation, rudeness is not acceptable. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next time, I shall adhere to the stereotype - and simply swipe the seniors to one side while I get on with my day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which brings me neatly to the other end of the generation scale - the playground Pram Army. Of course I was never part of such a movement. Mainly because I have always been rushing in and out of the playground as I have never been on time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Walking down Dog Poo Alley - the entrance to the school drop off point - is an impossible task. I challenge the Ninja Warriors to try that as a test of strength, endurance and free running in training for the TV show. Avoiding small two year olds on scooters whilst mums chat on maternity leave and abandoned prams and wailing babies clog up access to Dog Poo Alley is enough to ensure the day is started with nerves on edge. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This morning the Pram Army was growing its masses - I negotiated three small children on scooters, four abandoned prams and several hoardes of maternity leave mums before it was safe to walk at a normal pace all the way home...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's a blinkin' good job I was in my gym gear ready for my spin class and the Gaggle of Grannies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can't help but wonder which is the most fearful force of nature. The Gaggle of Grannies or the Pram Army. Who would win? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe that's the next winning TV show - stuff the Ninja Warriors - instead let's watch the Gaggle of Grannies negotiate the Pram Army on a school run and then watch the Pram Army muscle their way through the Gaggle of Grannies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who would win?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-59709259035792323112015-05-01T05:35:00.001-07:002015-05-01T05:35:05.918-07:00An easy bank holiday weekend beckons<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Let the bank holiday chaos commence</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's just dawned on me, it's the actual bank holiday weekend. A weekend greeted by the most of the population as three days off, three days of pure pleasure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Not two days, not a normal weekend BUT THREE...THREE days, three whole days of no work...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then it dawned on me...this weekend has got chaos written all over it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Chaos that commenced yesterday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yesterday the stupid D.O.G went under the knife in a dramatic operation...when I say dramatic she was having her bits removed..some may see that as routine. In my house with two small things who worry about the dog's every movement, it was dramatic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Dropping her off at the vets on Thursday morning was nothing short of a traumatic separation. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Separation anxiety that mainly oozed from every dog paw (see what I did there?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As myself and the 9 year old left her standing forlorn in the vet's surgery, as she watched me with sad eyes pass the lead over to a stranger and leave her alone to face the knife, as she cried and whined as we left the vets, as the 9 year old blinked back the tears, I knew the return of the D.O.G was going to be a family trauma.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So as every good dog owner does, I rang (from my meeting, professional as ever) to check if said dog had died on the table. Luckily said dog had survived and was ready for pick up at 4.30pm - the same time I was due to pick the 9 year old up from cross country and 20 minutes before the hired hot tub was due to arrive for the 13 year old's birthday party...yep hot tub.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So like every self respecting working mum, I threw 12 balls up into the air and hoped to catch at least one nine (year old). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Amazingly it all worked with precision timing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i6a4IUM0h_o/VUNtiMY32PI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/YcFAfOewNjs/s1600/2015-04-30%2B17.53.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i6a4IUM0h_o/VUNtiMY32PI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/YcFAfOewNjs/s1600/2015-04-30%2B17.53.14.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Not only did I remember to text the 13 year old (again from said meeting) to tell her I wouldn't be in when she got home from school (I may have forgotten that small detail in the morning chaos of the dramatic dog drop off), I left my meeting on time with some semblance of professional integrity, I got to school with 22 seconds to spare before cross country ended, dropped friend of 9 year old at home (again may have forgotten that I had promised to drop said friend off, but luckily the small things remembered), arrived home to greet 13 year old (who was of course slumped on couch with instagram a go go) met hot tub delivery man, left hot tub delivery man in my garden to set up said hot tub to pick up very sad, sorry for herself conehead and returned home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Donning my veterinary nurses attire, I settled conehead with the small things and went to check on the hot tub delivery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And all this before 5.12pm.</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d_Gxz8_2yGQ/VUNygm5WvRI/AAAAAAAAA5g/tr8j7JtoZfA/s1600/Hot%2Btub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d_Gxz8_2yGQ/VUNygm5WvRI/AAAAAAAAA5g/tr8j7JtoZfA/s1600/Hot%2Btub.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the amount of time that it had taken to pick up conehead and listen to very specific instructions on how to care for dog patient (including not letting the jumpiest dog in the world, not jump for TEN DAYS), the back garden had been transformed into a chavtastic homage to 13 year old birthday party heaven.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A hot tub, a giant connect 4, a marquee, a floating bar for the hot tub - and some more very specific instructions on how to ensure the hot tub keeps working for the entire weekend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the space of 20 minutes (whilst still wearing meeting attire) I had received two sets of very important instructions to ensure this weekend goes safely and without dog death whilst dealing with two hysterical small things who cannot cope with conehead's sadness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The instructions have since merged and in my head go something like this:</span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">there is a button I must not press on the hot tub as it could blow the entire street up (no idea which button)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">there is a button I must not turn off otherwise said hot tub will mainly be a cold tub</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">there will be bubbles if I can find the bubbles button</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">in the event of high winds and the marquee blows away, it's my fault</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">the dog must not go in hot tub - or just must not jump. If conehead jumps and burst stitches, the cost to restitch is £400</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Conehead must wear cone at all times especially when not swimming and not jumping in hot tub</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Children must not be drunk in hot tub</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No jumping in hot tub from bedroom window</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Conehead must not jump from bedroom window</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Something about filters and chemicals</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Dog must eat - something about medicine and eating - or was that chemicals and eating</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway, there's some instructions in order to maintain safety this weekend. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So finally last night, I remembered to feed the small things, the small things remembered to feed conehead with some medicine and I forgot to go for a run - but luckily running partner came round with much needed wine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And so the start of the much awaited long weekend beckons - and I have still to buy appropriate 13 year old schiz to accessorise said party (this shopping list really mainly involves wine for me so I can cope with eight 13 year olds in my back garden shrieking OMG and LOLZ).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm sure it will all go to plan. I'm sure the dog will be fine - and I'm sure the hot tub will be hot at the appointed hour - possibly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway - thank crunchie it's a long weekend and I can recover .... with conehead, a birthday party for eight 13 year olds, a hot tub in my garden and a family barbecue.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Pass me the wine.</span>Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-90048716388621464952015-04-14T08:51:00.000-07:002015-04-14T08:51:10.088-07:00Time flies...when you're a grown up<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Time flies...when you're a grown up.</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Seriously, how is it April? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Not just the beginning of April - but the middle of April. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We seem to have moved through this year faster than Matthew Mcconaughey can zip through time in that ridiculous syfy adventure InterStellar (now that was two hours of my life I will never get back although watching Matthew Mccwhatshisface is always a pleasure, maybe though next time on mute).</span><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QIn5dl7pmdA/VS029C_hSuI/AAAAAAAAA4c/O0gHgw0u0po/s1600/2012-04-22%2B17.27.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QIn5dl7pmdA/VS029C_hSuI/AAAAAAAAA4c/O0gHgw0u0po/s1600/2012-04-22%2B17.27.54.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Pop on your rose-tinted glasses for a moment and cast your mind back...to the good old days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Do you remember those halcyon days when you were growing up when the school holidays lasted forever, day after day of time to kill, to watch paint dry, to ponder whether you should get on your grifter or play another game of squash the red spider.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now, it's just one giant blur, one day careering into the next at warp speed. One minute it's Christmas and then I blink and all of a sudden the May blossom is greeting me with a high five to hayfever. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then this morning the epiphany.</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XGNKn7opW5g/VS02YsToyfI/AAAAAAAAA4U/2zmRyvfQG-g/s1600/2010-08-16%2B18.24.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XGNKn7opW5g/VS02YsToyfI/AAAAAAAAA4U/2zmRyvfQG-g/s1600/2010-08-16%2B18.24.15.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I realised. It's cos I is old. I'm a grown-up...it's happened. Peter Pan has flown the nest and the future is here, or was here, it's now hurtling into yesterday and we're hightailing it towards tomorrow - or something..but whatever it is, it's going blinkin fast.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Make. It. Stop.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There's not enough instgram pics to post to remember the moments as time swirls by - as my babies turn from small toddling towers of destruction into well ... bigger towers of destruction if my garden is anything to go by...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I want to get off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I want to slow time. Apart from the fact I am not yet prepared to admit I am (ahem) forty-something (in my head I will always be 33 years old), I want to slow time to appreciate every single second of this chaos.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I want to be able to while away the days with my small things (wine in hand obviously) and I want to idly mooch from day to day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But here's the conundrum - when I have a moochy day, I feel like I have wasted it. I feel like I have wasted time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When on Sunday I lay on the couch and drooled, I mean watched, Matthew Mcwhatshisface space jump through time, I feel like I have wasted a day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The day before we had climbed Catbells in the Lakes, the day before that we had walked round Ingleton Falls, the day before I'd worked, the day before something else had happened. I was craving a day of nothingness - and then when it happened, it didn't feel right. It didn't feel right just whiling away time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It seems when we 'do' time moves ever so fast, but when we 'don't' we wish we were doing...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Does time get faster as we get older, does time spin out of control as we realise how precious it is - does it become something that feels just that little bit out of reach because we are constantly trying to catch up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Do we avoid slowing down, because if we do then we have to accept our acceleration into our middle youth*?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Of course, I have none of the answers to this conundrum, I have searched for the crack in time so I can sneak back and forth to remind my younger self to cherish that moment in time..but I can't find it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I do have wine though - and in the absence of time travel, I shall pour myself a small glass** of wine and stop - stop just for a moment - stop and look around and watch the clouds cruise lazily cross the sky.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now where's my grifter?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*old age</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">** vase</span><br />
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<br />Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-57074746556362177382015-03-29T07:21:00.000-07:002015-03-29T07:21:58.898-07:00Making the most of them there moments<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Moments make the memories</b></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This weekend, the 9yo has informed me he has had the best weekend ever. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">How? We've done nothing extraordinary, we've not spent bucket loads of money and we've not travelled the globe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We've spent the weekend doing not much with lovely people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here lies the list of things that make the 9yo buzz with joy...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1. Playing football (crossing in apparently) after school with his mate for two hours. TWO HOURS!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2. Being childminded by friend's son to whom he showcased his colouring app from his iPad - and friend's son (who is an awe-inspiring 15yo) liked it. This gave the 9yo kudos. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(of course I had nipped to the pub with parents of said 15yo childminder for a cheeky Fizz Friday)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">3. Eating an Indian past his bedtime (of course when we returned from early doors drinking on Fizz Friday, we brought an Indian back)*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">4. Being allowed to sleep in bed with his mummy (of course I have added this one as he would never admit it, but it's true)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">5. Going to the Lakes to see his mate who he used to go to school with</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">6. Watching two Harry Potters back to back</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">7. Eating bacon butties</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">8. Listening to loud music in the car. I did try to educate him on the merits of Neil Diamond, but it turns out Ed Sheeran makes him much happier</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">9. Drinking Lucozade Sports - which in turn gives him brain freeze</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">10. Me (again I may have added this to get the list to 10.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This list was put together as we travelled back from the Lakes and he was telling me in detail what happens in back to back Harry Potter movies....with impressions of all the characters.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It got me thunking. His list of things that made the weekend was a list of moments. Small moments in time that together made a blinkin marvellous weekend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">These small fry could (occasionally) could teach us a thing of two. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I promised myself this year I would count the moments, not constantly worry about the bigger picture, not worry about the future and not try and plan the most perfect path with a cottage at the end with rose-tinted windows looking out on the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the main I'm not bad at doing this - but the wisdom of my 9yo today has reminded me it's the moments that make the memories.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If I ask him to remember a holiday or an occasion, he picks out something little that happened. Like last year in Cornwall when I played Volleyball with him over the washing line, or when Bessie (the stupid dog) made a nest in my bed and the small things thought it was hysterical (I didn't).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So here's my list of things of moments that have made the memories this weekend...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1. A glass of wine (of course this would top the list) with a good friend in front of a burning woodfire as the rain lashed down outside (this was made all the better by the fact good friend's husband was looking after the small things)</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w-OknSKA8LM/VRgC8FbmFEI/AAAAAAAAA3w/Fw6peXMLVZE/s1600/2015-03-28%2B14.10.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w-OknSKA8LM/VRgC8FbmFEI/AAAAAAAAA3w/Fw6peXMLVZE/s1600/2015-03-28%2B14.10.20.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2. A daft text from a friend which made me laugh out loud</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">3. Singing loudly to Neil Diamond in the car (whilst having the added advantage of causing the 9yo a great deal of embarrassment)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">4. Getting the text from my soon to be 13yo to tell me she is on her way home from her netball weekend (and is safe and sound) AND everything on the text was spelt perfectly</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">5. Walking into the house to be greeted by the stupid dog </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">6. My independent 9yo padding into my bed at midnight (I know he should sleep in his own bed all night, but I'm rather confident he won't be doing this at 15 years old)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">7. Bacon butties - with brown sauce</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">8. An arrangement for an easy tea in the pub </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">9. Did I mention a glass of wine?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">10. See above</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So all in all on the rather wet and not so springy Sunday as me and the small fry snug down and watch Paddington, I am cherishing the moments, counting my blessings and thinking of pouring myself a glass of red.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*For the purposes of those worried about my parenting skills, the impromptu Indian that followed Fizz Friday was at 9.30pm - not 1am....(does that make it any better?)</span><br />
<br />Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-8604086835413499052014-09-23T12:30:00.000-07:002014-09-23T12:30:15.770-07:00“There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate.” <h3>
<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A friend in need is a friend indeed...</span></b></h3>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VeE0Kgs7ttU/VCHAl7XuDdI/AAAAAAAAA0E/eEf-yucZY-Q/s1600/winnie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VeE0Kgs7ttU/VCHAl7XuDdI/AAAAAAAAA0E/eEf-yucZY-Q/s1600/winnie.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's not often words fail me. As most people that know me will testify.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My career has been mostly dedicated to the art of the written word, the spin of our beautiful language and yet so often in the last month I have found myself unable to find the words to describe life going on around me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My beautiful friend (BF) has cancer. Well she doesn't just have cancer. She's frankly battling cancer and if that's not bad enough the crappy chemo is also trying to take her down. (I would replace crappy with another much more severe c-word but various other beautiful friends would really tell me off).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But this blog today isn't about that battle. It's not about the tears of sadness, frustration and anger we've all cried recently, it's about the beauty of human spirit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I live in what can only be described as a community. Some of us live close as a gnat's chuff to each other (see the eloquence of my written word) and some of us have migrated a few more (thousand) miles away but what the bastard cancer has revealed is what a tight little community of fantastic people we are.</span></div>
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<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Human spirit has shone through in large dollops of friendship. When friends have felt helpless in this stupid situation that none of us can control we have resorted to practicalities. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And when the practicalities have been done, we have resorted to full blown over emotional love-ins.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In a world where we can control most things - and a world where if we want something bad enough and we work hard enough, we can mainly achieve it. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Cancer knows no such rules. Cancer just takes - and it doesn't matter how successful, wealthy, determined or ballsy we are, we can't control it or the journey it takes its victims on.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So we control what we can. The small details that makes the cogs go around the battle against cancer. The little details that can make things as easy as possible for everyone involved - and it's these small things that make me realise how priceless true friends really are. Of course I already knew that - but I've been reminded a lot lately.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There's not a day goes by when my BF has not had a food delivery, a friend pop round, a gift dropped off or a child distracted. And it's these mini details that count. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then amidst all this cancer chaos, there's the story of the actual small things - the children. Not just my beautiful friend's small things but mine too.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Watching mine deal with such raw emotion first hand has been a journey in itself.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My 8 year old who walked up to my BF and asked her almost shyly (even though he's known her since birth) if he could give her a hug. Which was gratefully received. The worry etched in my over anxious 12yo's face as she tries to come to terms with the cruelty of life. And the power of friendships. Watching how they support my BF's small things on a day to day basis mainly by trashing my house and doing my head in but never the less it distracts us all.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then there is the small fry belonging to my BF. The stoic 12 yo who is still able to rebel against authority and yet watches her mum's every movement. And the nearly 11yo who wears his heart on his sleeve and still finds a reason to smile every day.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is life. It's the day to day acts of our small things that we look to, to reveal how we should live. For the moment, for the here and now - and for the smiles you can get from finding a perfectly shaped conker or baking a rainbow cake.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today I am watching the small things with increased respect. Obviously I'm still shouting a lot otherwise everyone would get very nervous.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is life. The community I live in that I'm grateful for, the friendships that are strong and true.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Those true friendships are not only supporting my BF but me too; I've had deliveries of flowers, vodka infused strawberries left on my doorstep (oh yes, you read that right) and stacks of croissants delivered for when the BF's small things are also present at breakfast. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oh yes, it appears I have chosen my friends wisely. And then there's my lovely friends who have simply sent a text to check up on ME (and it's not even me going through the bastard cancer) that make me realise what makes the world go round.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And all through this there is the centre piece to this story - my beautiful friend. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Strong, determined, fierce, vulnerable and of course beautiful. She managed to laugh as we shaved her head giving her a lovely mullet (we did of course do the proper thing after we'd all had a good laugh). She's been cross, she's shouted and she's cried. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And mainly she's still in control - we've all had barked instructions from the hospital bed, the chemo ward and the bedroom. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And mainly she's trying as hard as she can to stick two fingers up at this bastard disease. I'm not sure I would be able to greet each day with the grit and determination she has. Mind you we did have to have words about some of the post cancer diagnosis outfits of choice. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So here's my revised survival guide for when things are crap. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I appreciate that as a result many of you could need to review your friendships - and now is the time to do it, because should you be ill or your friend be ill, you need to make sure the right stash lands on your doorstep.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The key to surviving crap includes:</span></b></div>
<div class="p1">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Vodka infused strawberries</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Laughing </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Good crying*</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Gladioli </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Spiced salmon and stir fry (cooked by friend's husband, as this friend doesn't cook)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Curries and chat on a Saturday night</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Silly daft ridiculous texting</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My beautiful mum</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My family</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My fabulous friends</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And of course my small things</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now before you all get your hankies out at this overly 'soppy as shite' blog (again spot the eloquence of delivery), what I'm mainly trying to do is help you all live your life better. Of course NEVER under-estimate the power of wine.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And finally, if you don't have friends that know how to make vodka infused strawberries (that were also coated in chocolate) you're really missing out and I suggest you start interviewing for one now. Sadly mine is taken.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*Good crying. I have been told that if you cry a river and feel better afterwards, you can cry. If you cry a river and still feel pants after, that's bad crying and you have to distract yourself and avoid at all costs.</span></div>
Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-137107730172427992014-07-28T08:20:00.000-07:002014-07-28T08:20:57.139-07:00Summer Juggling<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Shush......The silence is deafening</span></h2>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Summer is here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The sun is actually shining - and parents throughout the UK welcome the summer holidays with a sigh of relief.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Okay - that last sentence is a complete lie. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Six weeks - six whole weeks - that 30 working days to fill with children's entertainment. Or in my case eight weeks as the 12 year old kindly broke up a week before the 8 year and the 8 year is going back a week after the 12 year old.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My diary looks like someone has thrown up childcare arrangements all over - and I have that niggling feeling that I have forgotten something - or someone important. Probably one of my children.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Every week has a plan - and what can only be described as a rough schedule attached to that plan - with post it notes on top of the plan - and red circles highlighting the really important things on the post it notes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The years in PR organising client events have nothing on the organisational precision and attention to detail that goes into summer holiday small thing planning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This week they have been thrown at the in-laws - as I write they are on a boat somewhere on the River Wyre with Grandma and Grandpa. Well I think they are on a boat - I received a picture but all I could see was Grandma and Grandpa - and wine - and frankly a rather ropey looking boat - no sign of the small things. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Have they already fallen in? Is the eight year old trapped under the boat (yep that was last night's nightmare). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The small things are at the in-laws all week, which should make me jump for joy at the sense of freedom I have - the evenings spread before me, dinner with friends planned and actual proper working days await me - however the house just seems a wee bit empty and just on the edge of quiet. Even the daft dog is wandering from room to room searching for something.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I think as parents we are never quite happy - we crave the silence. When the 12 year is pecking my head with her constant questions, opinions and smart arse answers, I beg her to be quiet - and now the house is silent, I'm craving the chaos.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Of course, those who know me will know that winesday awaits me - and the bliss of not having to do the school run is so far outweighing my craving for said chaos.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I also know that this weekend I am taking the small things to their first festival - and the neurotic worry that will accompany that 'care-free' adventure will be enough to occupy most of the quiet this week.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So all in all, I am going to try and enjoy the peace and quiet...really...I am.</span>Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-18462936289291913262013-07-29T14:10:00.001-07:002013-07-29T14:11:30.589-07:00Love is......<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A modern day love story</span></h2>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"The course of true love never did run smooth"</span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well thanks Bill Shakespeare that is somewhat of an understatement for me.</span></h4>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Some may even call me a cynic...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've been thinking about where my cynicism came from. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And I mainly blame the couples counsellor that me and the ex saw for a while. Yep we went down that route which was actually paved with more giggles and hilarity on our part that a deep analysis of why we weren't getting on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It started with the counsellor telling us (while sitting in a very small, airless room) that we needed to communicate more. That every night when we got in from work we should sit together on the couch with the TV off, we should face each other, we should stare into each others eyes, hold each others hand and ask each other how our day had been. (Of course we were also supposed to ignore the toddling, demanding, adventurous two year old during our communication.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well that piece of advice was met with what can only be described as hilarity on our part - and that night me and the ex had a right giggle together laughing at the mentalness of the counsellor. We never did our homework, we didn't sit on the couch whilst holding hands but we did have a laugh that night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then there was the session for which I will never forgive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She asked me what I wanted. I rather cleverly replied (or so I thought):</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Well I want the fairytale. I want Prince Charming to trot along on his white charger and carry me away."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Obvious I thought. It's what everyone wants isn't it? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The stuff of fairytales...Snow White, Cinda f***kin rella (Pretty Woman), Richard Gere (Officer and a Gentleman) and the ultimate Tom Cruise (Top Gun).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Apparently not according to the counsellor as she turned the atmosphere into ice with one single breath, stared at me menacingly and stated:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"That's your problem. You still believe in fairy tales."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I know - I hear your sharp intakes of breath.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I looked at her shocked - and quickly checked all corners of the room half expecting to see all the fairies of the world immediately keel over and gasp their last teeny weeny breath. I saw Prince Charming fall from his white charger in an exhaled breath of harsh reality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway fast forward a few romantic trysts where I have met more Rumpelstiltskins, big bad wolves and trolls than has ever been seen in Grimm's Fairy Tales and the cynic in me was born.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Until this weekend when I attended a wedding of one of my besties. It was her second marriage. She has been the most laid back bride I ever did see. Six months before the wedding there was still no sign of the dress, until I decided enough was enough and we went a dress shopping. As she tried on her first (and only) dress she started crying at the emotion of her pending nuptials.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This weekend she continued to cry, her make-up (bought, purchased and ruined in a river of tears) lasted all of the walk down the aisle but she glowed throughout the day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The bride and groom were joined on their day by their four children and the oldest two children made speeches which melted the coldest of hearts. The son told how the bride has made his dad a better man, a softer man from which he had benefited and the daughter told us how she had seen her mum smile more in the past two years than she had in the last 16 years. There were more tissues passed round the tables than confetti on the floor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The magic for me was watching two people who have spent a lifetime waiting simply love each other. Their love for each other was palpable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They just work. And I wish them every happiness in the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The glow, the emotion, the beauty of the day was frankly magical. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And the cynic in me was stilled. Oh and I got a present which always helps still said cynic. And it was sparkly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Fairytales do exist. I just witnessed a modern day fairytale.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*Whispers* I believe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*Whispers Louder* David Beckham I believe, come and get me (preferably on a white charger)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">P.S. I now believe the counsellor to be Snow White's evil step mother.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-30950977643632236532013-06-21T14:10:00.002-07:002013-06-21T14:44:18.471-07:00The Week Where Everything Broke<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The longest day of the year...EVER</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today has been crap. In fact this week has been pretty pants. Everything is breaking. Everything I say. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Of course I am not exaggerating. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Of course I am not being ridiculous.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And Bob the Builder appears not to appear on request. Or free.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sometimes the whole single mum running a business thang becomes a bit overwhelming. Rarely happens but this was one of those days. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It all started with the toilet seat trauma. So the toilet seat broke, completely cracked. I hasten to add before anyone casts aspersions it was not, I repeat not my fault, but the blame can be firmly planted at the feet of the small things as they stood on it to look in the mirror while they cleaned their teeth (imagine the shouty mum outburst the morning that was discovered). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And of course nothing in this house is simple. Turns out the stupid expensive replacement toilet seat is not only stupidly expensive but also would take THREE months to arrive. Next time I shall be B&Q all the way - none of that designer Italian nonsense for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Turns out (after several million phone calls) it's cheaper and way quicker to buy a new loo. New loo purchased, picked up and now in hallway waiting for a suitable Bob the Builder to come and fit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So in between toilet trauma and toilet seat resolution with purchase of new loo was the breaking of the bed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Cast your mind back to last weekend. Last weekend there were three of us in my bedroom, a night of fun was planned.....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">STOP now with that thought......don't be so ridiculous.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Me and two of my friends were getting ready for a night on the town sipping fizz whilst applying mascara. Three girls sit on my bed to take this photo......</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FDbZjpI5cms/UcTA-DWaUlI/AAAAAAAAAq4/i_lQcke_cwc/s1600/feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FDbZjpI5cms/UcTA-DWaUlI/AAAAAAAAAq4/i_lQcke_cwc/s320/feet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mere seconds after the picture has been taken....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">BED (from very reputable company) BREAKS. Bed which is only a year old SNAPS. Bed frame just caves in two. And I wouldn't mind but the straw that broke the bed frame was my very teeny weeny 5ft 3 friend.(names have been removed to protect their identity).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am now currently waiting for the bed man to come and examine the breakage and determine the future of said bed. For now I am mainly lying very still in the middle of my bed as part of it is propped up on books - books I haven't yet read I may add.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then there was technological hell as my emails went down...then server issues, then server issues as servers battled to outserve each other.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And finally at 3pm this afternoon my (expensive) push button bin broke. That pushed all the wrong buttons and I had a small strop.* A small strop that to be fair had been building all week due to the amazing achy breaky house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(*complete breakdown throughout which the dog stared at me quizzically as if to say 'man up it's a bin FFS')</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then the small things came home from school. At this point I imagine most readers are covering their eyes thinking the smalls are going to get it from shouty mum extraordinaire. But my friends, that is not how this story ends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">7yo dispatched with his dad. 11yo with me due to concerts, leaver's party outfit shopping and some much needed mother/daughter time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I anticipated me mainly sulking like a petulant teenager and drinking wine while the 11yo maturely watched TV and counselled me on seeing the bigger picture.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Instead we found gift cards for two shops and we went a spending. We then popped up to see my mum (who's birthday it is today). We spent a delightful few hours just mooching in each others company where I thought 'Wow it's quite cool having an 11yo daughter'.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We've spent quite a bit of time in the car and then I decreed it was only right and fair that I began her education into 90s music.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpAUU75ajUQ">It started with this classic</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The jaw-dropping embarrassment of my 11yo daughter combined with the loudness of me singling along to Dub Be Good to Me (complete with rapping) finally lifted my patheticness. (new word; feel free to use in times of patheticness)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thus I give to you my lesson in life. (you can thank me later)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When everything breaks, when Bob the Builder can't be found, when the lottery hasn't been won and when the push button bin does not push the right buttons anymore play some funky music and sing loudly preferably in the presence of a small child.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It also helps if you combine the loud music and bad singing by winding the windows down and doing some crazy mum car dancing whilst driving along.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's times like these when it's worth being a parent. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When being a parent and embarrassing your small child makes everything better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here endeth this week's lesson. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-89757569060188815692013-04-24T13:25:00.000-07:002013-04-24T13:25:33.542-07:00Dear Daughter<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Wonder Years</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Dear daughter,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At this moment in time I am shouting upstairs to you yelling at you to go to sleep. You are shouting back telling me how many hours and minutes you have left as a 10 year old.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Some (everyone) may (will) describe me as a shouty mum:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"GET DRESSED, HURRY UP, CLEAN YOUR TEETH, LISTEN, I'M NOT TELLING YOU AGAIN, IF YOU DON'T GET A MOVE ON, I WILL MAKE YOU GO OUT LIKE THAT......"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The list is endless. Even now the night before your much anticipated 11th birthday I am shouting at you to go to sleep or you won't get your birthday breakfast. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">How time's change? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">11 years ago I was to be found wandering around this living room with a somewhat mahoosive bump thinking that the twinges I was feeling perhaps meant you were going to make an appearance three weeks early. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As I was wandering round wondering whether labour was going to hurt (how naive), the rest of my family were sitting in the kitchen eating mum's macaroni cheese to celebrate the occasion and having a sweepstake as to how long I was going to be in labour. (three-ish hours)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At midnight, we hightailed it to hospital and at 3.37am you were born. I remember spending what was left of the night simply staring at you, just watching you breathe, unable to believe that I was now a mum. That feeling has never left me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">From that moment on my life changed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Even now when I probably spend 90% of my time shouting, yelling and occasionally swearing, I thank my lucky stars that you are mine. Every night without fail, the last thing I do before I clamber under the duvet is to kiss you good night and watch you sleeping, watch you breathe, just like I did 11 years ago. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Back then my main worry was that you kept breathing, and now my worries range from making sure that you keep breathing (yes still) to your schooling, your friendships, whether you can walk to school on your own, whether you eat enough veg, whether you will ever wear a dress, if you will be happy at high school ...worrying is a constant, a niggling, gnawing, tapping in any mum's mind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I do miss you as a baby, your gurgling smile, your inability to put your feet on sand and even those hideously humiliating moments including carrying you out of a supermarket under my arm with your legs kicking and screaming (you didn't visit a supermarket for a long time after that). I don't miss the fact that you didn't actually sleep a full night until you were 17 months old.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I mainly love watching you, watching you grow into a beautiful small thing sometimes at war with your own developing personality but always kind, always loving and giving.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am mainly hugely proud to be your mum and tomorrow I shan't be shouting at you on your birthday, I shall be spending the day feeling blessed and trying not to shout at you on your birthday. And then when I take you and your friends out for tea, I shall mainly be drinking wine to dull the noise of six excited 11 year olds. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This time 11 years ago I started on a journey where I learn something new every day, where I spin more plates than I ever thought was possible, and where I have a reason to smile every day. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zzoU5PXvjsI/UXg8p9O_HjI/AAAAAAAAApY/d_KUeW5Ct90/s1600/April+2012+303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zzoU5PXvjsI/UXg8p9O_HjI/AAAAAAAAApY/d_KUeW5Ct90/s320/April+2012+303.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tonight when I kiss your sleeping face goodnight and I am the first person to whisper Happy Birthday in your ear, I shall be sending a silent prayer of thanks that I am so blessed,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Love you my beautiful girl,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Your mum.</span>Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-32767106246431412242013-03-30T05:15:00.001-07:002013-03-31T05:58:17.314-07:00Where have all the red ants** gone?<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">How times change...</span></h2>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Do you remember those halcyon days when we had proper seasons? </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Do you remember that when spring sprung, we changed our wardrobes, we put away our winter clothes and we went to play in the fields in our t-shirts only coming home when we were hungry?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Some may accuse me of partaking in that commonly known syndrome that affects those people in their middle youth - the Rose Tinted Glasses (RTG) Syndrome. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have found through extensive research over a period of time (focus group with myself over a cup of coffee) that RTG Syndrome creeps up on you gradually. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I admit that I may now believe that in the good old days when Zippy was the most radical thing on TV, we had it good. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One day, there you are all care-free, running through the fields of long grass, playing Sycamore helicopters in your t-shirt as the searing heat of a British summer means coats were a long forgotten memory, and the next...you're sitting on the couch in your jumper in front of the fire <b>in the spring</b> remembering the good old days.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Muc6iR3Bxoc/UVbRUDbBSEI/AAAAAAAAApA/PwUoIHuqogs/s1600/Sycamore+helicopters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Muc6iR3Bxoc/UVbRUDbBSEI/AAAAAAAAApA/PwUoIHuqogs/s1600/Sycamore+helicopters.jpg" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then you realise you are officially a sufferer of RTG Syndrome.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Muc6iR3Bxoc/UVbRUDbBSEI/AAAAAAAAApA/PwUoIHuqogs/s1600/Sycamore+helicopters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Does this mean I am getting old? </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Does this mean that I am no longer in my middle youth, but I am actually middle-aged?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Does this mean I need to start drinking Horlicks?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">These are questions that should really concern me. I do occasionally wonder if I am a sufferer of RTG Syndrome but the thing that is really bothering me, the thing that is keeping me awake at night and the best possible example that times have changed is the sad demise of the red ant**. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>WHERE HAVE ALL THE RED ANTS* GONE?</b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The tiny weeny red ant** typified my childhood summers.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Let's face it, we knew it was summer when we could sit on the kerb and play 'squash the red ant**' with the winner being announced due to how many red pinprick squishes you had on your fingers. It was an intellectual game allowing one to improve one's mental maths and the spirit of debate as you determined who had won.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This game usually happened after we had spent Saturday morning at the stables and I had groomed Smartie and me and my sister had skipped back from the stables holding hands, our skips in harmony and our soulful singing voices bringing our neighbours out for an impromptu summer concert. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Okay okay that last bit was a lie, usually I was mainly annoyed that my sister was tagging along and tried to run away from her but we did play on our drive with Sindy dolls (Barbie was just not cool) and when we got bored of showjumping Sindy and we had taken our rabbit Blackie for a walk (yes he had a lead and yes he was called that) we then indulged in a game of squash the red ant**.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today children have lost this fine art of finger dexterity, a fine outdoors pursuit which defined summer and kept us amused for at least three minutes before we got on our grifters and went for a bike ride across the fields only coming home when we were hungry.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I miss the good old days. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*I am writing this post whilst proudly wearing Rose Tinted Glasses*</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oh no - I have just had a moment of clarity. Maybe we killed all the red ants**.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*Removes Rose Tinted Glasses and sobs*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">**Since the writing of this blog it has been brought to my attention that they weren't red ants, but red money spiders - this explains a lot.</span></div>
Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-7651608219905188102013-01-06T04:35:00.001-08:002013-01-06T04:35:55.609-08:00New Year Celebrations<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The pressure of Christmas</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Don't tell my small things but I'm glad Christmas is over. The minute I took down the Christmas decorations on the 2nd January, yes the 2nd, I felt a sense of relief and started to look forward to 2013.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I know it's just one day, I know it's all about the giving and not the receiving but still the pressure of Christmas crept up on me and before I knew it I was stressed about one day of present giving mayhem and a giant roast.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's the time of the year when the whole focus seems to centre on the family unit. When there is almost a silent competition on who can do it better and who can be the most cheery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I do emotionally invest in Christmas, I make sure the house is twinkly and me and the small things did some mean Christmas dancing to Last Christmas. The Christmas party was a chaotic success and I have respectfully treated every day like Winesday. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I am glad it's over. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And I'm really looking forward to January.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have thought about it and I'm thinking it might be because I got a salad spinner for Christmas which didn't invoke the same excitement as my Grifter bike did back in 1983. Or possibly it's Rylan's fault for being on the Xfactor and ruining my countdown to Christmas; which frankly I did not think was sch-mazing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Or maybe it's because we simply put too much pressure on ourselves to create this perfect picture when frankly the one we paint every day with the small moments, creating the every day memories with normal roasts, giggling with the small things and laughing with friends are the ones that really count.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So next year I plan to do it differently. I''m not cooking. I'm going out. And I am gifting myself many presents. (I know it's not all about the presents *lies*)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the meantime we have the joy of January to look forward to; which many of you will be dreading because you will all be detoxing, drying out and dieting. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WRONG. DIDDLY WRONG WRONG.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">January is one of the best months of the year; you should all be celebrating for the following reasons:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1. It's my birthday in January</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2. It's the start of a new year</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">3. I'm going skiing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">4. I'm going skiing again</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">5. The pressure of Christmas is over</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">6. Did I mention it's my birthday?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">7. Oh and it's my Uncle John's 65th birthday</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The new year is a time to reflect, make new year resolutions, fail dramatically at achieving the new year resolutions, embrace Winesday and celebrate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I demand you all embrace January with the same vigour you embraced Christmas but without the pressure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Go on. Hop to it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<br />Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-33768871541399645382012-12-02T12:12:00.000-08:002012-12-02T12:12:08.787-08:00Yoga and me<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A yoga move or two...</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">People do yoga for many reasons. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Some do it for serenity of the mind. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Some to destress. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Some to make sure they are supple. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My yoga teacher tells me it's all about the breath.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">People exercise for many reasons. I run because it gives me sanity. I go to the gym mainly because it provides me with the beautiful sight of the Lancashire County Cricket Club working out before my very eyes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">BUT...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have started to do yoga for one reason and one reason only.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I intend to win at the Weetabix game.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It started in the summer. Eighteen friends converged at a house in Wales to celebrate a 40th birthday. It was a great weekend in so many ways except one - I failed at the Weetabix game. A game I had rocked in the past.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At some point during the evening, after the small things had gone to bed and before the fancy dress box had been discovered, it was decided we should all play the Weetabix game. (I don't need to point out there was wine involved in this decision making process.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To the non-initiated amongst you, the premise of the Weetabix game is simple. One box of Weetabix (with the contents removed). Weetabix box placed in the centre of the floor. Players take it in turn to pick up the box with their teeth. Only the feet are allowed to touch the floor. Easy. Until everyone has tried to pick the box up - and then an inch strip is torn from the top making the box shorter and thus harder to pick up. Meaning the more bendy you are, the better you are at the game.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So there we were. A room full of friends. Some limbering up and a gradually reducing box of Weetabix. (To be fair we played with a box of Coco Pops, I think this had something to do with my ruin.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was quite successful with the lunge approach and then my legs just wouldn't bend anymore. Leaving in those smug, willowy bendy yoga types...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They flowed to the floor. They reached for the scrap of paper that was the Weetabix/Coco Pop box and then they picked it up. Effortlessly. With not one click of an old bone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That will be me. Next time. That box is mine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I am breathing in on a Thursday night, when I am giving myself calm and serenity through the power of my breath, I am really only thinking one thing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Next year I am going to rock that Weetabix game*.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*practices yoga moves whilst typing in the downward dog.</span><br />
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<br />Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-36094776425518180632012-10-18T10:42:00.001-07:002012-10-18T10:45:33.494-07:00Shush! I'm in silence<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Don't you hate that? Uncomfortable silence. Why do we feel it's necessary to talk about bull in order to feel comfortable? That's when you know you've found somebody really special. When you can just shut the hell up for a minute and comfortably share a silence -Pulp Fiction”</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've just realised that while I've been working over the past couple of days, I've been working in silence. Pure noiseless, deafening silence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Apart from the odd conversation with the puppy (and frankly she is rather disappointing in the old two way banter) there has been no radio, no music and no noise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I love noise (well apart from the small things shouting me at any time from 9pm - 10 am) and I've always lived in environments where people shout, curse, sing (badly) and where there is a constant humdrum of noise traffic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For me a happy place is a noisy place.*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I never thought I would be a silence sort of a girl, but here's the thing - I have quite enjoyed it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The silence that follows the chaos of the school run, the calm after the storm of the shouting that starts at 7.15am and only stops when we leave the house at 8.36 am (OR WE WILL BE LATE). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The hours of peace before the cacophony of conversation begins again after a day of school has been well ...really rather nice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm still in silence now. And the only noise I'm really looking forward to is the sounds of my wine glugging cheerfully into my giant wine glass - some might say reminiscent of the sounds of a babbling brook. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">These are acceptable noises.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now no-one dare disturb the sound of silence...</span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zLfCnGVeL4">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zLfCnGVeL4</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*To clarify, I mean grown up noise. Not play parks, not screaming children, not doctors surgeries and not random conversations with strangers on trains. I mean the sounds of adult life.</span><br />
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Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7161879677866848291.post-32572849545561876692012-09-05T06:55:00.000-07:002012-09-05T06:55:02.692-07:00A friend for life<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Project Dog</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As many of you know 'Project Dog' has been gaining momentum in our house for a while now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There was the school PR campaign that the 10 year old launched last year when her cohorts commenced on 'Campaign Cockerpoo' which essentially involved bucket loads of research and even the class teacher becoming involved in why we should buy a pooch. That girl has a career in spin ahead of her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There has been the repeated requests. The promises that said dog will be looked after and the ultimate statement - the small things are prepared to pick up poo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There have been many a friend who have told me what a ridiculous idea it is and many a friend who have frankly encouraged it so they can enjoy dog ownership from afar without the actually nonsense of owning a pet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've grown up with dogs. Two labs called Tess and Barney were a big part of my life. I know the joy of having a dog and how tying they can be. Then there is the fact that Tess - family dog of 13 years - bit my beautiful niece when I was looking after her and in one frozen moment turned from pet to animal. One moment that will forever be imprinted in my memory. (Luckily amazing niece is absolutely fine.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So.... I know that as much as people put their dogs in their handbags and tell me that they are their babies - dogs will always be dogs in my book. A great addition to family life if you get one - but still under it all is the need to train and watch an animal. This is one of the reasons I haven't even considered it until the small things have got a bit older.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I found myself considering it, thinking about it, listening to the raging PR campaign fronted by the children. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Could anything be more powerful - small things pushing cute puppies in front of my face with pleading faces and promises to be good forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I decided a list was in order - the pros and cons of buying a pooch; much like that pros and cons list you write when you are deciding on finishing with your boyf when you are 15...</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The pros:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog will be cute</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- kids will love dog</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- I will be best mum ever</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog can run with me</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The cons:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog will wreck my house</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog could eat my shoe collection</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog needs taking out </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog will poop, in my house, in my garden, on a walk</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- I will have to pick up said poop</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog will be tying</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog requires commitment</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- small things may get bored of dog</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog will smell (even though there is a poodle parlour right on my high street = bonus)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog might get ill which will (a) cost and (b) upset small things</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog will live a long time</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- dog will cry when it arrives and possibly crack even my hardened heart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- a small, teensy weensy matter of possible allergies in the house</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">- much like those small things, I can't send a pup back</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway, the pup arrives on Friday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Meet Bessie. Well, could you have resisted? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bring on the fun...(and mum of the year title).</span>Sarah Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03822808445525922572noreply@blogger.com0