It's a long time since I've been here - a really long time! The last photo is of my son's 14th birthday and I am now mulling over what to do for his 15th. It's tricky, because I'd like to take him to the theatre but I will only just be out of hospital and, possibly, recovering from open chest surgery. And that, I guess, it's what has really defined this last year.
I have hypercalcaemia, caused by an over-active parathyroid gland.* I'm tired - all the time. I don't sleep well, which makes me tireder. I can't quite think straight and I have to lie down if I walk more than a few miles. And I'm tired. Did I mention the tiredness? Gradually my life has got smaller and harder and just a little darker. One of the symptoms is anxiety and depression. And I'm anxious and depressed about how little I can do, how hard I find everything and how little energy I have. I'm losing my sense of what's real.
I'm also working too hard. I moved up to Yorkshire at Christmas 2012, keeping on my work as a private tutor in the London area and committed to commuting twice per month. It's worked, it's worked just fine, but gradually the work in the North has picked up and I can leave London behind in September and my partner and I - Bespoke Tutors - can base ourselves entirely at home. So we have taken on every student enquiring in our local area while still holding down a full timetable in the South.
It's all good. I love our life. I walk the dogs (that's another thing, another dog, and another two on their way in June - one to keep and one to train and sell) along the bridle-path at the back of our house every morning - stopping to feed our free-range chickens and check for eggs - and am astounded by the fact that I live here, this is my home. I get to live here every day. I love my life, I love my children, my partner, my dogs, my home and the countryside surrounding me.
But it's hard; It's really hard right now. I don't Home Ed the way I would like to. I don't run any more; I don't read; I don't paint; we don't do days out. And I don't blog. Well, I am now. A dear friend of mine said she'd be mentioning my blog on hers and it's motivated me to show up - I don't want people clicking over and finding that the last time I wrote was last June! What will the neigbours say? And it's a way of getting a little something back. A place to reflect on the good things that are happening, my three children who are thriving and to build up my goals again for that time on the horizon which glows with hope and opportunity - Post Surgery.
*Last June my GP told me that my calcium levels were high. Not a problem, I thought, just cut back on the cheese and yoghurt. No, one of my parathyroid glands has gone into overdrive and needs removing: minor surgery. The appointment to see the consultant was not until September and he sent me off for more tests. These took a few months and I finally saw the surgeon in early December. At this point I was still, naively, wondering if I might get squeezed into the Christmas period. It wasn't to be. My gland gone rogue: in the consultant's words, it is a "cheeky monkey". I have had two ultrasounds, a radioactive tracer test and a CT scan, which have all been very interesting to an A Level Physics teacher, with no positive result. Instead of key-hole surgery, the operation is more like a search and rescue. If opening my neck up with a four-inch incision doesn't find it, a heart surgeon with a video camera will come and help. If he can't find it with the camera then he'll be getting the saw to my sternum! Because the heart guy has to be available, scheduling the op became difficult task and, only by cancelling our family holiday to Spain, has it become possible to find a date in the first half of this year.
Showing posts with label Blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blogging. Show all posts
Thursday, 10 April 2014
Monday, 7 January 2013
Communication has broken down
Tomorrow we leave the house where we have been staying and looking after the dogs and horses and we return to our new house in a neighbouring village. We only spent four nights there before moving up here, and the children have not slept there at all, so in many ways it feels like moving in for the first time. My daughter said to me that she feels homeless at the moment and in a way we are. Nowhere feels like home, that safe place we know well, that feels warm and famililar and offers both physical and emotional shelter and we are all craving time to settle and make it our new home.
The engineer from BT does not some until next Wednesday, 16th January, and we will have no landline and no internet. There is no mobile reception at the house and so we will find ourselves totally cut-off. It is possible to climb a short distance behind the house and perch on the hillside by a dry-stone wall and pick up a mobile signal. It is possible to walk about 20 metres down the road to a BT wi-fi hot-spot. The pub in the village has free wi-fi, the local town has good mobile reception and a couple of wi-fi spots. And yet I can feel a level of anxiety about being cut-off. I am typing frantically, trying to get this post written and a couple more scheduled as well as looking up electrical safety hazards to being the Physics curriculum with the children and answer and send all necessary e-mails before black-out occurs.
What am I afraid of? Having started blogging again that anyone reading will forget all about me in a week's silence? That friends and family will be so insulted at waiting for a week's reply to an e-mail and will end all relationship with me? That I can't teach Physics without access to the web, that I have no internal or book resources, or that the children will never get this GCSE if I fail to teach this aspect of the course, this precise week?
It is as I face a week without easy internet access that I face my addiction to quick information, easy contact and the perpetual sense of busyness and I start to think that if I want to slow my life down, perhaps switching off phone and computer once in a while would be a place to start.
The engineer from BT does not some until next Wednesday, 16th January, and we will have no landline and no internet. There is no mobile reception at the house and so we will find ourselves totally cut-off. It is possible to climb a short distance behind the house and perch on the hillside by a dry-stone wall and pick up a mobile signal. It is possible to walk about 20 metres down the road to a BT wi-fi hot-spot. The pub in the village has free wi-fi, the local town has good mobile reception and a couple of wi-fi spots. And yet I can feel a level of anxiety about being cut-off. I am typing frantically, trying to get this post written and a couple more scheduled as well as looking up electrical safety hazards to being the Physics curriculum with the children and answer and send all necessary e-mails before black-out occurs.
What am I afraid of? Having started blogging again that anyone reading will forget all about me in a week's silence? That friends and family will be so insulted at waiting for a week's reply to an e-mail and will end all relationship with me? That I can't teach Physics without access to the web, that I have no internal or book resources, or that the children will never get this GCSE if I fail to teach this aspect of the course, this precise week?
It is as I face a week without easy internet access that I face my addiction to quick information, easy contact and the perpetual sense of busyness and I start to think that if I want to slow my life down, perhaps switching off phone and computer once in a while would be a place to start.
Wednesday, 2 January 2013
12x12
I love new year resolutions. The turn of the year presents the opportunity for me to reflect on how I want to be different and to make attempts to become what I want to be. There is a danger of the resolution becoming the law, exerting a pressure to be fulfilled that becomes an end in itself and no longer produces the helpful encouragement to change I would like; They need to be viewed as prompts to remember how I want to live. I am a sucker for patterns and themes and so have chosen 12 this year, either to be done once or twelve times a month:
1) to host local neighbours to eat at the house once per month (dinner, lunch, poetry tea, just a cuppa and a slice of cake ...)
2) to run 12 times per month
3) to bake 12 items per month
4) to choose not to use the tumble drier 12 times per month
5) to take my son out for a coffee and a chat about his latest writing project once per month
6) to practice navigation skills once per month
7) to take the children on a day-out once per month
8) to complete one painting project per month
9) to sort out one area of my personal admin once per month
10) to finish one book per month
11) to do one thing towards developing my workas a Breastfeeding Counsellor once per month
12) to blog 12 times per month
Together they are a mixture that encourages me to live the way I want to live: none feel over-ambitious and yet there is a challenge there to stop dreaming about how I want to be and to be that way, consistently, month in, month out for a year and see where that takes me.
1) to host local neighbours to eat at the house once per month (dinner, lunch, poetry tea, just a cuppa and a slice of cake ...)
2) to run 12 times per month
3) to bake 12 items per month
4) to choose not to use the tumble drier 12 times per month
5) to take my son out for a coffee and a chat about his latest writing project once per month
6) to practice navigation skills once per month
7) to take the children on a day-out once per month
8) to complete one painting project per month
9) to sort out one area of my personal admin once per month
10) to finish one book per month
11) to do one thing towards developing my workas a Breastfeeding Counsellor once per month
12) to blog 12 times per month
Friday, 27 January 2012
Audience
A sense of audience: this is an idea that I have been considering this week. The children are doing a family class, Dynamic Revision, with Bravewriter and have each done a short series of freewrites followed by a brief discussion of set questions. One of question was whether they had a sense of audience: a feeling of who they were writing to and if they imagined someone reading their work. The responses were interesting, my youngest hoping that her published book would be read, but lacking confidence that her freewrites are good enough; my middle son imagining "rather old people" reading his work and my eldest appartently not thinking of it at all. I could certainly see how, especially with the younger two, the idea of an audience would help them see the reason to revise their raw writing and hopefully inspire them as they do so.
All this left me thinking about my own sense of audience. As I write this blog, I can picture a few of the people who I know are reading it. Others, who tell me that they read (and even comment occasionally) I can see less clearly. For me, it is always the potential criticsism that I hear and it can be debilitating. It is the same when I paint: I freeze if I think someone is coming close and I only show my family those pictures I am pleased with, finding it hard to share the experiments and the ones that didn't work.
How do I find the line between confidence in my actions, in my writing, in my art, in my life, and arrogance and unwillingness to listen to wise advice?
In discussing freewriting with my eldest, he said "Better to write for yourself and have no public than to write for the public and have no self." (Cyril Connolly) I love blogging but I have lost my sense of what it is for, and who it is for. I don't blog for my audience, though I'm pleased to have one, I blog for myself. I am glad that people read it, although I can count on my fingers the number of people that I am certain do so regularly, but I sense that I have begun to write for this, very limited, public audience. I want to explore my own thinking, to record my chidlren's education and childhood, to reflect on the things that catch my interest and I think it would be good for me to try and get back to writing for my self. I hope you continue to read but, if you don't, that's ok with me. I've spent a lot of time and effort beginning to find myself and I intend to hold on to all I've found.
All this left me thinking about my own sense of audience. As I write this blog, I can picture a few of the people who I know are reading it. Others, who tell me that they read (and even comment occasionally) I can see less clearly. For me, it is always the potential criticsism that I hear and it can be debilitating. It is the same when I paint: I freeze if I think someone is coming close and I only show my family those pictures I am pleased with, finding it hard to share the experiments and the ones that didn't work.
How do I find the line between confidence in my actions, in my writing, in my art, in my life, and arrogance and unwillingness to listen to wise advice?
In discussing freewriting with my eldest, he said "Better to write for yourself and have no public than to write for the public and have no self." (Cyril Connolly) I love blogging but I have lost my sense of what it is for, and who it is for. I don't blog for my audience, though I'm pleased to have one, I blog for myself. I am glad that people read it, although I can count on my fingers the number of people that I am certain do so regularly, but I sense that I have begun to write for this, very limited, public audience. I want to explore my own thinking, to record my chidlren's education and childhood, to reflect on the things that catch my interest and I think it would be good for me to try and get back to writing for my self. I hope you continue to read but, if you don't, that's ok with me. I've spent a lot of time and effort beginning to find myself and I intend to hold on to all I've found.
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
Back to the Reasons Why
I am finding it hard not to feel rejected. In a very real and concrete way, I have been. I put myself out there and applied for a job and I was not selected for interview. The job would, I believe, have suited me perfectly: based at home, choosing my hours myself, periods of busyness and periods of quiet, working with home-educating families and using my writing. I am not really qualified for it though, and so, I have not been chosen. I had given this blog as an example of my "writing voice" and have been aware of the potential of watching, reading eyes for the last few weeks: I have felt the possibility of each post being scrutinized. Now, I am finding it hard to care. I want to withdraw, to lick my wounds. Like a snail, I want to retreat into my shell and hide away. I do not want to write.
But I was reminded that I set myself clear goals for this blog and not one of them was to be a showcase for my writing for potential employment. I have lost my direction and motivation.
My first goal was to practice and experiment as a writer and that I am certainly doing. By setting myself a standard, by placing myself under close observation, I have lost the sense of writing freely. I do hope that people like my blog, and a number of you keep coming back to read more so I guess you do, but my first goal for this space was as a writing place, somewhere for me.
Secondly, I wanted to record the children's activities and achievements. I dread my posts becoming interminable "Christmas newletters", those increasingly colourful A4 sheets stuffed in with a quickly autographed card, full of every detail of every exam and activity the sender's offspring has taken part in over the year. However, I personally find it useful, at birthdays and ends-of-term, to have one place to refer to to see what we have been doing. I know that grandmas and grandpas enjoy reading the ins and outs of our lives and seeing frequent pictures of their growing grandchildren. If you are not part of my family, or a close friend, I am sure you will excuse the occasional newsletter post and perhaps will enjoy a moment to reflect on your own family's daily doings.
Certainly, looking at life through "blogging lenses" adds a different perspective, which was my third aim. Little moments take on a greater significance as I consider their humour or teaching. Time to type out what happened is time to ponder and to think about what was good and what could have been handled differently. Blogging helps me to process and, I hope, therefore to keep becoming the mum, wife, friend and person I'd like to be.
One thing that makes my life different from "the norm" is that I home educate. I only have my experience, I only have my three children, I only have my way of doing it, but it is a picture and it does work, in its own way. For those out there, like myself, navigating this unusual, outside the system, poorly understood world of taking on our children's education ourselves, my fourth goal is that I hope this blog offers ideas, thoughts, a portrait in minature of one way that it can look. Maybe it will encourage, guide, suggest, and comfort. Maybe it serves a value in highlighting what would not work for your family, but I hope that it acts a little like one route in a walk book of an area. Not the only way, but one way. My way.
But I was reminded that I set myself clear goals for this blog and not one of them was to be a showcase for my writing for potential employment. I have lost my direction and motivation.
My first goal was to practice and experiment as a writer and that I am certainly doing. By setting myself a standard, by placing myself under close observation, I have lost the sense of writing freely. I do hope that people like my blog, and a number of you keep coming back to read more so I guess you do, but my first goal for this space was as a writing place, somewhere for me.
Secondly, I wanted to record the children's activities and achievements. I dread my posts becoming interminable "Christmas newletters", those increasingly colourful A4 sheets stuffed in with a quickly autographed card, full of every detail of every exam and activity the sender's offspring has taken part in over the year. However, I personally find it useful, at birthdays and ends-of-term, to have one place to refer to to see what we have been doing. I know that grandmas and grandpas enjoy reading the ins and outs of our lives and seeing frequent pictures of their growing grandchildren. If you are not part of my family, or a close friend, I am sure you will excuse the occasional newsletter post and perhaps will enjoy a moment to reflect on your own family's daily doings.
Certainly, looking at life through "blogging lenses" adds a different perspective, which was my third aim. Little moments take on a greater significance as I consider their humour or teaching. Time to type out what happened is time to ponder and to think about what was good and what could have been handled differently. Blogging helps me to process and, I hope, therefore to keep becoming the mum, wife, friend and person I'd like to be.
One thing that makes my life different from "the norm" is that I home educate. I only have my experience, I only have my three children, I only have my way of doing it, but it is a picture and it does work, in its own way. For those out there, like myself, navigating this unusual, outside the system, poorly understood world of taking on our children's education ourselves, my fourth goal is that I hope this blog offers ideas, thoughts, a portrait in minature of one way that it can look. Maybe it will encourage, guide, suggest, and comfort. Maybe it serves a value in highlighting what would not work for your family, but I hope that it acts a little like one route in a walk book of an area. Not the only way, but one way. My way.
Thursday, 10 February 2011
500 posts!
This is my 500th post. I started this blog in response to Julia Cameron's, The Artist's Way and being posed the question, what would I do if it didn't have to be perfect? Somtimes I've loved blogging and sometimes I've hated it. I've found it a source of inspiration and of pressure. It's been a way of making friends and keeping in touch with friends. A way of reflecting on my days and voicing my thoughts. I've learned that uncomfortable weight of thinking that it's time I blogged but I don't have anything to say. I have worried that I am too upbeat and it reads like the worst kind of Christmas newsletter, full of how brilliant my children are, and yet that it might be litany of depression, fear and anxiety. I've blogged every day for month, and also taken a stretch of time "off' when it became one burden too many.
I wanted to prepare and write something special for this milestone, but, as I am learning is the case, life does not follow my timetable and when I try to force specialness it is false or strained and yet moments occur of beauty and joy without my intention.
I wanted to prepare and write something special for this milestone, but, as I am learning is the case, life does not follow my timetable and when I try to force specialness it is false or strained and yet moments occur of beauty and joy without my intention.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
How old are you?
I found these mental agility tests this morning. I'm up early so I thought I had a little time to play (and prove to myself, of course, that I am supremely mentally agile!) On the first I scored a mental age of 18 - hooray! (I am a fair bit older than 18.) On the next, identifying the colour of space hoppers, I was quietly confident, I took it carefully and was pleased I didn't make any mistakes. I was planning my post as I completed the test and how I could say I have a mental agility of 18. I scored 43! (I am not quite that old.) 43! My pride was hurt, I was offended! I battled on and scored 18 on the next two tests, (yes, I am mentally agile and can be proud of myself.) So I went back to the space hoppers. Obviously I had got the idea wrong and just needed to do it quickly. Now I understood, I'd sort it out. Poised for speed I made two mistakes and scored 40, (still older than my actual age!) So, it turns out, while I have a good eye for detail, can plan ahead and remember things well, I can't multi-task very well: I can't filter out the irrelevant information from the important, at least, not very well.
This sounds about right. While, if you asked, I would say I multi-task all the time and am good at it, acually I'm not. I get distracted. (Which, I guess, is why I was playing mental agility games on the computer rather than writing the post I'd planned.) Just ask my husband, who has frequently accepted the offer of a cup of tea, only to come to the kitchen 10 minutes later to find a hot kettle, two mugs and an absent wife. Just ask my children who are often told that they have made me forget what I was doing or that I am not an octopus and can't deal with everything they are asking of me. I think today, I shall try and do one thing at a time and see how I get on. (And before I do that, I'll just have one more go at the space hoppers!)
This sounds about right. While, if you asked, I would say I multi-task all the time and am good at it, acually I'm not. I get distracted. (Which, I guess, is why I was playing mental agility games on the computer rather than writing the post I'd planned.) Just ask my husband, who has frequently accepted the offer of a cup of tea, only to come to the kitchen 10 minutes later to find a hot kettle, two mugs and an absent wife. Just ask my children who are often told that they have made me forget what I was doing or that I am not an octopus and can't deal with everything they are asking of me. I think today, I shall try and do one thing at a time and see how I get on. (And before I do that, I'll just have one more go at the space hoppers!)
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Around the corner
This blog has begun to feel like a burden. I know that my mother and mother-in-law and brother’s family in the US read it and keep up to date with my family. I use it as a memory-jogger when I write the children’s birthday cards or review the year. But it has begun to feel like a chore. I feel a heavy presence of an invisible readership expecting things of me, things I don’t feel like delivering right now. I crank up the pressure on myself and live in a fantasy world in which people criticize me for not doing what they want, for failing in some way, for not being as good as they expected. Perhaps I am just not as good as I expect. I would love to be a writer. Do I have the skill? I’m not sure. Right now, though, I know that I don’t have the time. My focus is called to be elsewhere. I believe that I am called, to invest all that I have and all that I am in raising my three children. Immediately, I can hear the criticism, am I a ‘helicopter parent’, hovering over my children, micro-managing every part of their lives? Am I living my life vicariously through them? Would I just not cut it in the world of employment?
A while ago, someone I trust very much told me that I needed to be a place where I was content to be forgotten, to be insignificant. Well, I don’t know about content, but I guess I’m curious to see what God might have in store for me in the secret places of obscurity. Not a position of leadership in the church, not a speaker or a writer, not most the popular or most contributing volunteer at the local community run. Doing nothing for my reputation or to influence how others will feel about me. And letting go of the blog for a while seems a part of that. I might drop in from time to time, if the mood takes me, but for now, I’m letting go of the expectations I place on myself to post regularly and I will wait to see what is around the corner.
A while ago, someone I trust very much told me that I needed to be a place where I was content to be forgotten, to be insignificant. Well, I don’t know about content, but I guess I’m curious to see what God might have in store for me in the secret places of obscurity. Not a position of leadership in the church, not a speaker or a writer, not most the popular or most contributing volunteer at the local community run. Doing nothing for my reputation or to influence how others will feel about me. And letting go of the blog for a while seems a part of that. I might drop in from time to time, if the mood takes me, but for now, I’m letting go of the expectations I place on myself to post regularly and I will wait to see what is around the corner.
Monday, 9 November 2009
Comments
Having posted on the local e-group that I had written about Friday's walk, some new readers have made some very welcome comments around the blog. I have always try to reply to comments, usually by pressing 'reply' in my Outlook Express where notification of a comment arrives. Eventually,though, I noticed the 'no-reply' bit of the return address! This gave me a clue that my carefully composed responses may not have been reaching their intended targets. I checked this out by e-mailing and 'replying' to a friend who comments regularly. Sure enough, the 'no-reply' answer goes nowhere - go figure! So, apologies to those of you who have never heard back from me.
This morning I decided to tackle this. I have spent the last half-hour searching on blogger help, peering at indecipherable HTML code and importing code (from a site which told me that if I could read Chinese there would be additional detail to the instructions) in order to be able to reply directly. However, the promised link to click on has not appeared. I am left with the slightly uneasy feeling that I may have added something irrevocable to my template code which will gradually destroy my blog like some flesh-eating parasite, and still no way of replying directly!
So, I have replied to the comments by posting comments of my own, so scroll back and take a look. I have not cooked lunch, or started maths with the children. My planned tales of cycling and pet spiders will have to wait until later in the week!
This morning I decided to tackle this. I have spent the last half-hour searching on blogger help, peering at indecipherable HTML code and importing code (from a site which told me that if I could read Chinese there would be additional detail to the instructions) in order to be able to reply directly. However, the promised link to click on has not appeared. I am left with the slightly uneasy feeling that I may have added something irrevocable to my template code which will gradually destroy my blog like some flesh-eating parasite, and still no way of replying directly!
So, I have replied to the comments by posting comments of my own, so scroll back and take a look. I have not cooked lunch, or started maths with the children. My planned tales of cycling and pet spiders will have to wait until later in the week!
Monday, 13 April 2009
Not Quite Easter Day
Happy Easter!
I meant to post yesterday. I even got as far as switching on the computer and finding a good photo on my 'phone. But there is never quite as long between breakfast and church as I imagine and, just as I was about to tell my daughter that, no, she couldn't wear a dress to the Easter Day service because I didn't have time to help her put on her tights, I remembered why I had taken a blogging break. So, I didn't post. And now it's Monday night. You can be sure that if I had fasted from chocolate, I would not have been so slow!
I truly thought that if I took some time out from blogging, I would be clearer in my own mind why I blog. I know that I worry if I don't blog every day: my husband faithfully reads it at work and would worry, my regular readers, faithful though few, might lose interest, my wider family might miss out on some entertaining activity we have enjoyed. But I have not found an answer. I have been waiting for the Easter break for a long time as an opportunity to slow down a little and figure some things out, but, two weeks after my husband's school holiday started, I am still wondering where each and every day goes.
One thing is becoming clearer: I need to get in touch with what I enjoy, and where God is at work, and be willing to let go of the rest.
I meant to post yesterday. I even got as far as switching on the computer and finding a good photo on my 'phone. But there is never quite as long between breakfast and church as I imagine and, just as I was about to tell my daughter that, no, she couldn't wear a dress to the Easter Day service because I didn't have time to help her put on her tights, I remembered why I had taken a blogging break. So, I didn't post. And now it's Monday night. You can be sure that if I had fasted from chocolate, I would not have been so slow!I truly thought that if I took some time out from blogging, I would be clearer in my own mind why I blog. I know that I worry if I don't blog every day: my husband faithfully reads it at work and would worry, my regular readers, faithful though few, might lose interest, my wider family might miss out on some entertaining activity we have enjoyed. But I have not found an answer. I have been waiting for the Easter break for a long time as an opportunity to slow down a little and figure some things out, but, two weeks after my husband's school holiday started, I am still wondering where each and every day goes.
One thing is becoming clearer: I need to get in touch with what I enjoy, and where God is at work, and be willing to let go of the rest.
Friday, 20 March 2009
Fasting
Three-and-a-bit weeks in to Lent, I have decided to fast. I am still taking part in Tearfund's Carbon Fast but, as usually happens to me in Lent, I have reached a point where I don't feel that I'm really noticing it.
Yesterday I was feeling pressured by the amount I had to do before the day proper began and I needed to post, but I had nothing to write about. My son, as he so often does, came into the room where I work, just for a cuddle. He turned around a ndwalked away when he saw the look on my face.
I have a quote, printed out and laminated, on top of my computer screen, and I'm afraid I can't remember whose blog it is from. (If you recognise it, please let me know so I can give credit where it's due.) It reads:
Less is better. Little things done daily are better than grand plans. Give your children lots of tiny moments. When they approach the computer turn your chair around and look them in the eye and if you find more in their eyes than on the screen, get up and take them on a nature walk or read a book to them. Pandemonium will still be there when you get back.
I am going to fast from my blog for the rest of Lent. This fills me with both fear and excitement. What if I lose my few regular readers? How will family keep up to date with what we're up to? What might God do with the time I am releasing? How might this impact my relationship with my children as they see they are more important that the glowing screen?
Yesterday I was feeling pressured by the amount I had to do before the day proper began and I needed to post, but I had nothing to write about. My son, as he so often does, came into the room where I work, just for a cuddle. He turned around a ndwalked away when he saw the look on my face.
I have a quote, printed out and laminated, on top of my computer screen, and I'm afraid I can't remember whose blog it is from. (If you recognise it, please let me know so I can give credit where it's due.) It reads:
Less is better. Little things done daily are better than grand plans. Give your children lots of tiny moments. When they approach the computer turn your chair around and look them in the eye and if you find more in their eyes than on the screen, get up and take them on a nature walk or read a book to them. Pandemonium will still be there when you get back.
I am going to fast from my blog for the rest of Lent. This fills me with both fear and excitement. What if I lose my few regular readers? How will family keep up to date with what we're up to? What might God do with the time I am releasing? How might this impact my relationship with my children as they see they are more important that the glowing screen?
Monday, 9 March 2009
Put Out To Grass
For a long while now, my PC has been the source of no small irritation. Like a recalcitrant toddler, it will occasionally sit down by the side of the road and refuse to move, even going so far sometimes as just to close down the internet because it is feeling overworked. It is extremely slow and I have taken to running the internet on our lap-top while I am doing the monthly budget because, with Microsoft Money running, it really can't handle anything else! So many minutes are wasted as I wait for it to load up so I can blog, only to try to sign in and find that it hasn't installed something essential and I have to restart. It's difficult time to use for anything else as it comes in such small doses, but they add up to a very frustrating experience!
We have been considering buying a new computer since November but haven't put aside the time to research a good model. On Saturday, after one infuriating encounter too many, I shouted and yelled until my husband agreed to go to PC World and purchase a new computer immediately. It is now sitting just next to me, waiting to be set up so, hopefully, tomorrow I will be bloggging at the speed of light!
We have been considering buying a new computer since November but haven't put aside the time to research a good model. On Saturday, after one infuriating encounter too many, I shouted and yelled until my husband agreed to go to PC World and purchase a new computer immediately. It is now sitting just next to me, waiting to be set up so, hopefully, tomorrow I will be bloggging at the speed of light!
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
Audacious
I treated myself to a Chai Latte in Caffe Nero yesterday afternoon and pulled out my copy of "Writing With Power" which I bought early this Summer. Recently letting go of a BA course has allowed me space to start thinking of myself as a writer again and I am eagerly looking for opportunities to explore. I was struck by the author's reason for returning to writing again after a block:
Am I allowed to feel like that too?
I am not known as a shy, retiring, quiet person: I have my opinions and I make them known. But I am wary of causing offence, of getting into heated discussion or of haranguing people. I will soften my arguments, present my weakest points and get easily side-tracked, not deliberately, but in an attempt to keep a conversation light. While I have not suddenly found a desire to lose all my friends by mouthing off about controversial topics, reading this yesterday opened a door, just a crack, to what it might be like to write with passion and conviction, to develop a "so sue me" attitude, to trust the strength of my beliefs, to trust that readers can cope with, and maybe even relish, being challenged and that they can always choose to stop if they don't like what they are reading.
I am challenged; I want to write with more conviction, more confidence, more audacity. I wonder what will happen?
"I didn't just want to get things written for my own pleasure; I didn't
just want to hand something in that would satisfy or even dazzle some examiner
or judge; I wanted lots of people to believe what I was saying, to change their
minds and, damn it, to change their behaviour."
Am I allowed to feel like that too?
I am not known as a shy, retiring, quiet person: I have my opinions and I make them known. But I am wary of causing offence, of getting into heated discussion or of haranguing people. I will soften my arguments, present my weakest points and get easily side-tracked, not deliberately, but in an attempt to keep a conversation light. While I have not suddenly found a desire to lose all my friends by mouthing off about controversial topics, reading this yesterday opened a door, just a crack, to what it might be like to write with passion and conviction, to develop a "so sue me" attitude, to trust the strength of my beliefs, to trust that readers can cope with, and maybe even relish, being challenged and that they can always choose to stop if they don't like what they are reading.
I am challenged; I want to write with more conviction, more confidence, more audacity. I wonder what will happen?
Saturday, 1 November 2008
NaBloPoMo
It's been a busy couple of days in my brain and at my PC. A thought that had been wheedling for attention at the back of my mind suddendly burst into a loud chorus of conclusion on Thursday morning.
In May, I attended a brief seminar on how to progress in my career as a Breastfeeding Counsellor. The obvious next step was to enrol on the first module of an Educational Studies BA degree. For various administrative reasons, I had to get on with it in 2008 and I had to apply immediately. I am a sucker for any kind of "limited offer - hurry now" approach and was signed up without really thinking it through. (This is familiar: I all too frequently hear the words "I didn't really think it through," come out of my mouth!) Once committed, I could then use my favourite excuse: "Well, I'm stuck with it now so I'd better get on with it," not to think about it any more. There was no way I could not see it through as I had made a bit of a fool of myself last year starting, then withdrawing from and then re-applying to the Diploma. There were plenty of good reasons to do the course: it was interesting and intellectually challenging, it was about something I knew little about so there was plenty to learn, at the end of it I would be qualifed for a salaried role that I could fit part time round my children. I bought the books, I did the required work and I was fully prepared for the weekend workshop this weekend.
However, while I was on retreat, the a thought popped unbidden into my mind: "What if I used the 15 or so hours I spend on Breastfeeding Counselling each month to write ... ?"
I ran a breastfeeding clinic this week and was reminded how much it drains me.
I had a drink with one of my longest standing friends and heard myself say that I wasn't sure that being a Breastfeeding Counsellor is what God wants me to be doing right now.
So the doubts grew, until the fact that I was committed to a course, with a weekend workshop this weekend, did not seem sufficient reason to spend more time and energy walking along a path I am not enjoying towards a destination I don't really want to get to! Of course, I felt very silly pulling out, and very much that I had disappointed people, but I could not continue to be funded for, and to spend time and energy on this study if I wasn't sure I wanted to continue as a Breastfeeding Counsellor.
It took a lot of time and e-mails on Thursday to extricate myself and to explain to my colleagues what I was doing. And then Kathy posted about National Novel Writing Month, and used Heartbreak Hill as a metaphor. Within moments I was mentally set to write a novel and run the Boston Marathon. Then I remembered that I have decided not to run a marathon next year, but maybe I could do the novel thing ....
It took me until Friday morning to reach the conclusion that stepping back as a Breastfeeding Counsellor was partly about being more available for my children, and also it will take a while to notice any extra time as I serve out my current commitments. Then Mrs G. mentioned National Blog Posting Month! Here was something I could do! I post pretty much every day, excluding Sundays, so not much more to add. Focussing on my blog for a month will begin to exercise those writer-ly muscles and, who knows, I may even appeal to some new readers.
So, thanks Kathy and Mrs G. Good luck to both of you, and here I go, posting every day for a month.
In May, I attended a brief seminar on how to progress in my career as a Breastfeeding Counsellor. The obvious next step was to enrol on the first module of an Educational Studies BA degree. For various administrative reasons, I had to get on with it in 2008 and I had to apply immediately. I am a sucker for any kind of "limited offer - hurry now" approach and was signed up without really thinking it through. (This is familiar: I all too frequently hear the words "I didn't really think it through," come out of my mouth!) Once committed, I could then use my favourite excuse: "Well, I'm stuck with it now so I'd better get on with it," not to think about it any more. There was no way I could not see it through as I had made a bit of a fool of myself last year starting, then withdrawing from and then re-applying to the Diploma. There were plenty of good reasons to do the course: it was interesting and intellectually challenging, it was about something I knew little about so there was plenty to learn, at the end of it I would be qualifed for a salaried role that I could fit part time round my children. I bought the books, I did the required work and I was fully prepared for the weekend workshop this weekend.
However, while I was on retreat, the a thought popped unbidden into my mind: "What if I used the 15 or so hours I spend on Breastfeeding Counselling each month to write ... ?"
I ran a breastfeeding clinic this week and was reminded how much it drains me.
I had a drink with one of my longest standing friends and heard myself say that I wasn't sure that being a Breastfeeding Counsellor is what God wants me to be doing right now.
So the doubts grew, until the fact that I was committed to a course, with a weekend workshop this weekend, did not seem sufficient reason to spend more time and energy walking along a path I am not enjoying towards a destination I don't really want to get to! Of course, I felt very silly pulling out, and very much that I had disappointed people, but I could not continue to be funded for, and to spend time and energy on this study if I wasn't sure I wanted to continue as a Breastfeeding Counsellor.
It took a lot of time and e-mails on Thursday to extricate myself and to explain to my colleagues what I was doing. And then Kathy posted about National Novel Writing Month, and used Heartbreak Hill as a metaphor. Within moments I was mentally set to write a novel and run the Boston Marathon. Then I remembered that I have decided not to run a marathon next year, but maybe I could do the novel thing ....
It took me until Friday morning to reach the conclusion that stepping back as a Breastfeeding Counsellor was partly about being more available for my children, and also it will take a while to notice any extra time as I serve out my current commitments. Then Mrs G. mentioned National Blog Posting Month! Here was something I could do! I post pretty much every day, excluding Sundays, so not much more to add. Focussing on my blog for a month will begin to exercise those writer-ly muscles and, who knows, I may even appeal to some new readers.
So, thanks Kathy and Mrs G. Good luck to both of you, and here I go, posting every day for a month.
Friday, 31 October 2008
Friendship on the net
Another of my favourite blogs is Restoration Place, where Kathy has posted about a bird she had spotted in their garden. Kathy's blog is always full of wonderful pictures of where she lives and what she gets up to as she Home Educates her family.
I've never met Kathy, although we do exchange the occasional e-mail, yet I would count her as a friend. I feel sure that if she lived nearer we would hang out together, chatting over tea and cake, discussing our faith, our children, our Home Ed.
I've never told Kathy this, but she was an answer to prayer. I don't have many close Home Ed friends. I know a whole bunch of mums who Home Educate that I get on really well with and a couple I would count as good friends but, for one reason or another, it is hard to hook up with them often. I've also had some Home Ed friends who have returned to their native lands (although I don't think that was too much to do with me!) At one point I prayed very specifically for a friend, someone who would walk alongside me on this journey ... and I discovered Kathy's blog. It wasn't quite what I was expecting as the answer.
Sometimes I worry that I spend too much time on blogs but it meets a need for me. By the nature of busy lives, children at home and the distance between myself and my friends, to sit and have an undisturbed catch-up time is very rare. I can read a blog, and post on my own, any time that suits me. Real time interruptions don't disturb the flow of the virtual communication. I can share worries, ideas, joys and experiences.
So when I saw Kathy's post this morning, I knew exactly what I would do if she were there in my kitchen. "Oh yes," I'd say, " I saw a great bird yesterday too. We had a jay hopping around our climbing frame (My middle son especially likes jays.) And I jumped up from what I was doing, grabbed my 'phone and got a shot. Look here it is!"
Thursday, 30 October 2008
Before I was a Mum
Kathy, over at 1o Minute Writer, sent me an interesting e-mail earlier this week, asking what I did before I was a mum. Replying to her set me thinking of all the different stuff I did before, and in fact since, motherhood.
I am a Physics Graduate, something I often keep quite quiet about. I remember at 13 insisting that I wouldn't do Physics O Level, but then it seemed, for all sorts of reasons, the most sensible choice. Similarly with A Level, which I loved and this led to my choice of degree. At the end of University, teaching seemed the most obvious choice, so I did my Teaching Certificate and took my first teaching job. This was not dissimilar to the Christians of Roman times being thrown before the lions! However, I survived my first year, coped with my second and was fed up of the school by the third. Then I saw a part-time teaching post in a Sixth Form College (16-18) advertised int he teaching press. Everyone I knew was very surprised at the idea of me working part-time, I didn't have children after all, but I did have a life and I had decided to enjoy it. While I wasn't teaching I ran and I did the London Marathon in April 1997. I also did a short course Triathlon and trained as a fitness instructor and this led to taking on another part time job at a local gym.
This was fun for a while, but after a year I was begining to get itchy feet again. I had regained my sanity and wanted a more challenging job. I wrote to the National Physical Laboratory and asked if they would like to employ me, and they did. So my next label was Research Scientist and I discovered the world of Microwave Antennae. Six months into this job I fell pregnant.
My boss was not keen on the idea of me returning part time and I was glad to leave and be a full time mother.
After my second child was born, I began training as a Breastfeeding Counsellor and qualified three years ago. I have been leading antenatal breastfeeding classes, counselling mums on the telephone and occasionally leading a drop-in clinic at the local hospital. In the last few years I have taken breadmaking courses and storytelling courses and dabbled in these.
For most of my life I would have flatly denied being creative. "Oh no," I would have said, "I am a science person." But this year, largely inspired by "The Artists Way", I have begun to change that view of myself, which has led to me beginning this blog back in June and to, even in recent days, discovering my poetry writing self. I am now considering taking and Open University course in Fiction Writing next spring.
Who knows where I'll be off to next!
I am a Physics Graduate, something I often keep quite quiet about. I remember at 13 insisting that I wouldn't do Physics O Level, but then it seemed, for all sorts of reasons, the most sensible choice. Similarly with A Level, which I loved and this led to my choice of degree. At the end of University, teaching seemed the most obvious choice, so I did my Teaching Certificate and took my first teaching job. This was not dissimilar to the Christians of Roman times being thrown before the lions! However, I survived my first year, coped with my second and was fed up of the school by the third. Then I saw a part-time teaching post in a Sixth Form College (16-18) advertised int he teaching press. Everyone I knew was very surprised at the idea of me working part-time, I didn't have children after all, but I did have a life and I had decided to enjoy it. While I wasn't teaching I ran and I did the London Marathon in April 1997. I also did a short course Triathlon and trained as a fitness instructor and this led to taking on another part time job at a local gym.
This was fun for a while, but after a year I was begining to get itchy feet again. I had regained my sanity and wanted a more challenging job. I wrote to the National Physical Laboratory and asked if they would like to employ me, and they did. So my next label was Research Scientist and I discovered the world of Microwave Antennae. Six months into this job I fell pregnant.
My boss was not keen on the idea of me returning part time and I was glad to leave and be a full time mother.
After my second child was born, I began training as a Breastfeeding Counsellor and qualified three years ago. I have been leading antenatal breastfeeding classes, counselling mums on the telephone and occasionally leading a drop-in clinic at the local hospital. In the last few years I have taken breadmaking courses and storytelling courses and dabbled in these.
For most of my life I would have flatly denied being creative. "Oh no," I would have said, "I am a science person." But this year, largely inspired by "The Artists Way", I have begun to change that view of myself, which has led to me beginning this blog back in June and to, even in recent days, discovering my poetry writing self. I am now considering taking and Open University course in Fiction Writing next spring.
Who knows where I'll be off to next!
Thursday, 9 October 2008
Three Things
This week I have achieved three things:
Aren't they beautiful?
- I completed the Great North Run.
- I have figured out how to use my new mobile phone (well, maybe not all the features but I can work it enough) and upload the pictures I took. (It has been a long and tortuous route involving a faulty CD, customer services, downloading software and uploading photos via the laptop to the blog and then posting on the desktop, but here they are!)
- I have reached 100 posts on my blog!
All of these come together in my pictoral record of Sunday:
Here we are at the start. If I had remembered that I was wearing a bin-bag I would have taken it off for the photo! Although it was gloriously sunny, it was not warm.
And here we are at the end, still smiling:
Sally, with the dark hair in front, kindly hosted us for the weekend, came with us to the start and met us at the finish with her two lovely children. I think she was probably more exhausted than we were by the end entertaining two little ones and pushing a buggy for two hours. Her red-headed daughter took a shine to me and, as we walked places, would dash in front of me, arms aloft, to be picked up. I could not resist her adorability. My arms were as sore as my legs but my heart was warm.
The highlight for me was the Red Arrows. They are the coolest! I was enraptured and like a child in my excitement. Sally's little girl was rather over-awed by the noise and kept her hands over her ears the whole time. I had great fun every time two planes passed each other, 'Are they going to crash into each other, are they, are they? No-oo-oo!'
Aren't they beautiful?
Friday, 19 September 2008
Just Another Practice whilst wearing Smarter Clothes
My brother-in-law sent me such an encouraging e-mail yesterday. He likes what I write, and says:
This brings home to me what this blog is for: it's for me, for my pleasure, for my writing development and for my record of what matters to me. If others enjoy it, and I hope they do, that's an added bonus.
It is very important to me what people think of me. Just a couple of weeks ago, I volunteered to take on a role in my church. I was excited by the idea and also pleased and flattered that I was considered up to it, good enough. It transpired that the job didn't need doing, and I was deeply disappointed. Underneath my good motives, was an agenda all my own. I wanted to be seen to be fantastic, I wanted to people to think and speak highly of me. It had become about glorifying myself. It was a harsh lesson for me. I thought I was over a lot of that stuff, but there it was, lurking in the background, just waiting for an excuse to come out. I find it easy to be flippant about my failings, to make a little joke of them, but to honestly confess is uncomfortable. A wise friend told me this week that one way to conquer such lurking sin is to bring it out into the open, into the light.
I have taken my stat counter off my internet bookmarks, (I'm not sure if I'm ready to take it off the blog altogether) and this will stop me checking it so frequently. I'm going to write about what matters to me, my children, my faith journey, my Home Ed journey and other stuff that catches my interest or makes me shout or laugh.
My brother-in-law plays in a band. He compared my blog to his performances:
Surely the important thing is you've enjoyed thinking about what to say and
what you'd like to tell people. When you don't, you'll stop.
This brings home to me what this blog is for: it's for me, for my pleasure, for my writing development and for my record of what matters to me. If others enjoy it, and I hope they do, that's an added bonus.
It is very important to me what people think of me. Just a couple of weeks ago, I volunteered to take on a role in my church. I was excited by the idea and also pleased and flattered that I was considered up to it, good enough. It transpired that the job didn't need doing, and I was deeply disappointed. Underneath my good motives, was an agenda all my own. I wanted to be seen to be fantastic, I wanted to people to think and speak highly of me. It had become about glorifying myself. It was a harsh lesson for me. I thought I was over a lot of that stuff, but there it was, lurking in the background, just waiting for an excuse to come out. I find it easy to be flippant about my failings, to make a little joke of them, but to honestly confess is uncomfortable. A wise friend told me this week that one way to conquer such lurking sin is to bring it out into the open, into the light.
I have taken my stat counter off my internet bookmarks, (I'm not sure if I'm ready to take it off the blog altogether) and this will stop me checking it so frequently. I'm going to write about what matters to me, my children, my faith journey, my Home Ed journey and other stuff that catches my interest or makes me shout or laugh.
My brother-in-law plays in a band. He compared my blog to his performances:
It 's not the end of the world if the customers don't turn up - it's just
another practice whilst wearing smarter clothes !
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
Niches
I had a couple of lovely comments on yesterday's post. Kathy spoke of finding a niche and Jo of deciding what I want to write about and then writing about it. Putting these together I realised that I was slipping into a mind set of trying to please some unknown readership, trying to reach some uncertain standard, trying to be liked. I haven't figured out my niche yet, and I don't always write about what is important to me because I am afraid, afraid of offending, afraid of being too vulnerable, afraid of what people who know me will think. I have not allowed myself to settle into my very own niche and have instead tried to define my content to beign with and have written to that specification.
I have kept very quiet about my Christian faith and the incredible journey that God has been leading me on, especially in these last months, and perhaps that is why this blog has become harder to write.
I keep very quiet about my running, another important part of my life.
Since term started my husband has been working a six-day week and he is currently on a school trip. I feel bad even mentioning that as one of my very dear friends is coping on her own with three little ones as her husband begins a tour of duty in a war zone, but I do find it hard to get so little time on my own. In the last 36 hours I have sat with friends as they have needed to talk and I have spent time on the phone with two mums of newborns. I have raced for my running club and I have cooked for, washed for and 'educated' three children. I have not had the opportunity to have much time for myself.
Blogging has become a few snatched moments and I want to find ways of making more time for it because I enjoy writing and it is something just for me. It feels like growing.
So, this is what I'm going to do:
I'm going to find or make more time to write, especially when these mad first days of September are done.
I'm going to write more about my faith, my relationship with Jesus, my running as well as Home Ed and my children.
I'm going to explore what I want to write and see if I can find my niche.
In the meantime, I need to make a confession.
We have two resident spiders and I am getting quite fond of them but my husband would rather we removed them to the wild outdoors. One lives in a hole in one door frame and the other, at the opposite end of the room, in a worrying large crack around the another door frame. They come out in the dark and are obviously 'jumping on things' spiders rather than 'catching things in a web' spiders.
Yesterday, I found one in the sink. This was proof to me of what I have heard, that they do not come up the drain pipe but fall in and can't get out: it tried over and again to scale the shiny walls but slithered down each time. The children and I had a look at it and then captured it with the cup and card technique. This, surely, was a perfect moment to introduce it to its natural environment.
After some thought I put it back on the wall next to its crack. It stopped for a while, cleaned its feet (that was interesting to watch - I guess they had something from the sink on them) and then disappeared into its home with, I like to think, a sigh of relief.
Sorry love. Yes, I did have it in a cup. Yes, I could have taken it in the garden. Yes, I put it back. What can I say - you love me 'cos I'm a softy!!
I have kept very quiet about my Christian faith and the incredible journey that God has been leading me on, especially in these last months, and perhaps that is why this blog has become harder to write.
I keep very quiet about my running, another important part of my life.
Since term started my husband has been working a six-day week and he is currently on a school trip. I feel bad even mentioning that as one of my very dear friends is coping on her own with three little ones as her husband begins a tour of duty in a war zone, but I do find it hard to get so little time on my own. In the last 36 hours I have sat with friends as they have needed to talk and I have spent time on the phone with two mums of newborns. I have raced for my running club and I have cooked for, washed for and 'educated' three children. I have not had the opportunity to have much time for myself.
Blogging has become a few snatched moments and I want to find ways of making more time for it because I enjoy writing and it is something just for me. It feels like growing.
So, this is what I'm going to do:
I'm going to find or make more time to write, especially when these mad first days of September are done.
I'm going to write more about my faith, my relationship with Jesus, my running as well as Home Ed and my children.
I'm going to explore what I want to write and see if I can find my niche.
In the meantime, I need to make a confession.
We have two resident spiders and I am getting quite fond of them but my husband would rather we removed them to the wild outdoors. One lives in a hole in one door frame and the other, at the opposite end of the room, in a worrying large crack around the another door frame. They come out in the dark and are obviously 'jumping on things' spiders rather than 'catching things in a web' spiders.
Yesterday, I found one in the sink. This was proof to me of what I have heard, that they do not come up the drain pipe but fall in and can't get out: it tried over and again to scale the shiny walls but slithered down each time. The children and I had a look at it and then captured it with the cup and card technique. This, surely, was a perfect moment to introduce it to its natural environment.
After some thought I put it back on the wall next to its crack. It stopped for a while, cleaned its feet (that was interesting to watch - I guess they had something from the sink on them) and then disappeared into its home with, I like to think, a sigh of relief.
Sorry love. Yes, I did have it in a cup. Yes, I could have taken it in the garden. Yes, I put it back. What can I say - you love me 'cos I'm a softy!!
Monday, 15 September 2008
Uphill struggle
I'm finding the blog really hard work at the moment. It is 3 months since I started blogging and I have had fun: it has made me laugh and I hope it has made you laugh; I have looked at life through a different lens as I have spotted 'bloggable moments'; I have enjoyed grappling with words to try and describe a moment just so; I have been thrilled to receive comments and to know that someone, somewhere is enjoying what I write.
But I recently my doubts have coming flooding back. 'Why would anyone be interested in you?' says the accuser in my head. If I write about how I've messed up, it feels like self-pity; if I write about how good things are it feels like showing off. If I sound off about Home Ed I wonder if I am strident, opinionated, defensive. I read other blogs, blogs that get dozens of comments, and wonder how they do that and why I don't. I have a stat counter so I can see how many visitors I have and I know that I have a handful of regular readers, and I wonder who you are. I wonder why so many first-time vistors don't come back. I chastise myself for trying to measure the success of this blog by external criteria, by judging myself by the reactions of others. Even writing this is causing me anxiety: am I just feeling sorry for myself? Exposing too much? Being, heaven help me, needy? Is this all just self-indulgence?
There is more to think about here, but it feels good to have got some of it out. I have no witty remark to end this time, just another morning with the children to begin and another day to live.
But I recently my doubts have coming flooding back. 'Why would anyone be interested in you?' says the accuser in my head. If I write about how I've messed up, it feels like self-pity; if I write about how good things are it feels like showing off. If I sound off about Home Ed I wonder if I am strident, opinionated, defensive. I read other blogs, blogs that get dozens of comments, and wonder how they do that and why I don't. I have a stat counter so I can see how many visitors I have and I know that I have a handful of regular readers, and I wonder who you are. I wonder why so many first-time vistors don't come back. I chastise myself for trying to measure the success of this blog by external criteria, by judging myself by the reactions of others. Even writing this is causing me anxiety: am I just feeling sorry for myself? Exposing too much? Being, heaven help me, needy? Is this all just self-indulgence?
There is more to think about here, but it feels good to have got some of it out. I have no witty remark to end this time, just another morning with the children to begin and another day to live.
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