Volcano, the Fire-Breathing Piglet

I have been terribly distracted of late. Unsurprising really -- new job, new people. The things that should be important (money -- cue eye roll) have fallen by the wayside. But this new chapter is awfully exciting, so I'm enjoying every minute I can.

 Last night, Little Monster asked me to tell her a "made up story", that is, one I make up on the spot. And I loved telling it so much, I thought I'd share it here.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then let us begin.

Once there was a Little Monster who wouldn't go to bed. Mama, in despair, asked her what-oh-what would do the trick?  And she replied 'A fire-breathing piglet.'

So Mama went outside and gathered earth, clay, some leaves and water from the Weeping Rock. With these ingredients, she sculpted a piglet. She brought it inside and showed it to Little Monster, who clapped in delight. 

Mama said 'We need something for the fire and I know just thing.' She smiled wickedly and went out again. This time she sneaked into Little Monster's father's house and stole a lighter. Into the belly of the piglet it went with a pop.

It was perfect, but how to bring it to life? pondered Mama and Little Monster. 

Then Little Monster said 'Evil Queen, under the volcano!' Mama's eyebrow went up. (Under? Under!)

So off she went.

Mama travelled through a jungle alive with man-eating flora, swirling dusty deserts that choked, and an ocean filled with enormous sea-monsters. Finally, she reached the Evil Queen's volcano (all this took five long, drawn-out seconds). 

She knocked on the door.

'WHAT IS IT!?' roared the Evil Queen as she flung it open. 'Oh, it's you.'

Mama raised her other eyebrow. 'Do we know each other?'

The Evil Queen rolled her eyes and banged the side of her head. 'Sorry, I am ahead of myself. We will do. Start again. What do you want? Come, come. I'm busy. Kingdoms to destroy, Princesses to poison, you know the drill.'

Mama told her about the piglet. The Evil Queen sighed a great big sigh, then snatched it out of Mama's hands and threw it into the volcano.

There was a loud WHOOMPH! and out of the lava flew, flew,  Little Monster's piglet. It was a sight to behold. It came to Mama and settled in her arms, a little sooty but clearly quite content.

'Now, shoo! Tell your Little Monster, she owes me a favour,' said the Evil Queen and slammed the door behind Mama.

Mama made it home via the Hundred Acre Woods, which we won't ever talk about again (smoking ruins, thanks for the suggestion Adam), and presented Little Monster with her very own fire-breathing piglet.

There was much mutual squealing and cuddling. 

'What shall we call her?' asked Mama, as she settled both of them into bed.

Little Monster replied with delighted glowing eyes, 'Volcano!'

And thus ends our tale of Volcano, the Fire-Breathing Piglet.

Occupied! Love and other matters of import

Grateful that I could stop and stare.

Last Friday, I stopped in a park to watch the birds in a field and felt... content.

The Happy Jar is quite full but we've not been committed to writing a note every day. Predictably, Little Monster lost interest a few weeks back, and I haven't been religiously writing one at the end of every day, but I try. Each happy note makes me smile -- it is like re-savouring a great meal.

Astonishingly, I have been offered employment! I have now completed a week's worth and the boss hasn't told me not to come back. It's a job I've never done before and certainly did not think it was something I could be good at. We shall see.

I still aspire to start my own business and write that screenplay (among other things) and Subconscious Me is still pondering what I value in my life. Early reports suggest the following: time for myself to explore inner space and be creative;  rich, multi-layered relationships, however ephemeral; deep friendships; and time with people to talk, laugh and just be. Oh, and love. Always love.

I am also continuing to meet a wonderful plethora of beautiful, interesting people. The latest has been especially fascinating. And... enchanting. I may be in danger here of liking them a little too much. It would be very easy to fall and fall hard. So, I am being especially careful with this one. Fortunately, actual, physical distance is conducive and it will be quite a while before we would be able to physically meet. For all I know, it could burn out before then.

My life feels satisfyingly full at the moment, despite the goals left unmet, the tasks left undone. I am still penurious, and a part of me yearns to be on different soil. But for now, I am grateful, deeply so, for the wonderful things that have occurred and the marvellous souls I have had the pleasure of meeting.

Happy Jar, Sad Jar

My daughter is full to her brain with wisdom.

Our Happy Jar

On 1 January 2016, we started a Happy Jar. The basic premise being, at the end of every day we each write a note describing what made us happy that day. At the end of the year, we'll open the jar and read the notes. Last week, she said 'Mummy, where's the Sad Jar?' and then went on to say that we also need an Angry Jar, Disgust Jar and Fear Jar (you see where she was coming from). And it got me thinking: actually she's right.

Happiness is a good thing* but then so are all the other emotions -- can't have one without the others. It's a complete package. Sometimes, the sad can be overwhelming, and can lead to tragedy. As when anger becomes an all-consuming rage that burns your bridges. Fear can be paralyzing and disgust can lead to shame. Can you have a surfeit of happiness? I imagine that such a thing would be ecstasy, unsustainable and one must come down eventually. Being happy all the time is equally untenable, I should think.

When people talk about being happy, like it should be one's default state, as though to be otherwise is a tragedy, I am always reminded of Buffy's lament in season six: "I was happy... I was warm ... and I was loved ... and I was finished. Complete." Sounds heavenly, right? Well... she was also dead.

I wonder what our "resting" state should be. I know it should not be a constant melancholy (been there: it quickly spirals into a "make it stop" death wish), nor anger (little sparks will sting those around you), nor fear or any of the others. What of happiness? It can only be a force for good, no? Is there a neutral zone, where we feel... nothing? Or are we always feeling?

I am, at this moment, happy. It's a low-level sort of happy, in that I can smile easily and all is right with the world. I wonder how quickly I will reach irritability? Perhaps this is contentment, which is of course, a form of happiness.

I am still looking for that elusive thing called "meaningful work", and I continue to chafe a little at what I perceive as the restrictions of my current situation. But I am beginning to appreciate the opportunities this time is giving me: a deepening understanding of myself, time to really work out what it is that I am seeking, time to be me, something I had spent so many years suppressing.

My friend Yo, whom I spent a perfectly congenial morning enjoying a slow breakfast, asked a pertinent question: what do I value in my life? She suggested that when I know, I should put those things in my life. I think it's sterling advice and something I shall be meditating on. Well, at least let my subconscious chew on it for a while.

In the meantime, my daughter shall have her Sad Jar and together, we'll record both the highs and the lows of this year, like the very best stories and paintings - rich in contrasts.


*But I hesitate at the pursuit of it. It seems counter intuitive to strive for something that should be effortless and light.

Thank you for everything

"We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better." JK Rowling

A month into 2016, and already I have so much to be grateful for.

My right to work in this country is now irrefutable and I have the amazing generosity of my friends to thank for that.

I finally received the money that was due to me after persisting for nearly four months. I couldn't have lasted the journey without the help of my wonderful friend, Master M.

At the end of the year, I had sold a few pieces of art and a meeting with an old friend, K, has given me much food for thought and more impetus to do this as a business.

My contributions to a dating website helped to win them Best Commercial Blog at the UK Dating awards and they have now been shortlisted for the UK Blog Awards.

Connection with an intrepid explorer* is filling me with envy with every message, post, picture he shares, but it's also sowed seeds, awakening the adventurer in me. Bubbling away is a plan... a totally head-in-the-clouds-this-is-impossible idea. Perhaps it will remain a wish, a beautiful dream, but I must try to make it happen.

I renewed a connection with someone I had thought gone, who introduced me to the word saudade, a Portugeuse word that conveys a longing for a person, time or place that is lost.  He's pretty darn awesome.

A coach once observed that I need my own cheer squad -- I am the kind who needs people to push me, encourage me and it's true. I draw my energy, my joy from the people around me. After I left my marriage, quit the day job and basically left every safety net I had constructed, I found myself in a near constant state of feeling bereft. A year on from becoming a single mother, I still feel like I'm missing a piece, but I'm learning to cope. And in the last few weeks, I have come to a realisation and a resolution: Right now, at this time, spending hours and hours by myself is not natural to me. I will stop berating myself for not wanting to be alone, for refusing to accept that state. And you know what? I will no longer allow someone else to tell me I should be.

So, I am taking steps. My friend VL asked what drives me. And the answer was simple: people. Being connected to them meaningfully. I need to be in a situation where I am working with others on a daily basis. And because I am the way I am, quite a number of others to spread the impact. And I have to do this, or I will short out the connections I already have. I have also recently been sharply reminded that I need to be gentle with fledgling connections, something I had forgotten in my enthusiasm and delight. I am sorry they got overwhelmed, and if they choose to come back, I will do my best to accommodate them. Another reason to change the status quo sooner rather than later.

I am still trying to figure out what is the best version of myself, and will I ever recognise it if I ever achieve it? I do know this: when I am 80, in the wee wee hours of the night, when I am alone with myself, I want to have a wealth of memories of a life lived well to make me smile.

Here's to a future worth writing about.

* Who led me to this brilliant song, the soundtrack to today's post.

I hope I don't die before I've had a chance to live

The Simon Pegg character says something along those lines in the film Hector and the Search For Happiness+. 

About a month ago, I became acquainted with a young blogger on Twitter who had ditched it all to travel around the world. I've been vicariously enjoying his adventure through a tiny 5.5 inch screen. He's been telling me a little about the places he's been, the people he's met and the things he's done. He's a great photographer too -- his pictures have been awe-inspiring.

The nature of my marriage meant that I couldn't travel as much as I wanted and if I were to be brutally honest, it was my own relationship with money that caused much of that. But we did have some adventures: we'd canoed down the River Severn, then taken a steam train back up. I loved the canoeing bit best. Being on the water was wonderful. We'd gone to Sonisphere the year I found out I was pregnant. I felt Little Monster move for the first time while Iron Maiden was on.

We'd also been on a couple of boating holidays on the Broads, camping and theme parks. We love rollercoasters; my favourite moment was hanging at the top of a ride called the Mega Drop at Pleasurewood Hills on the Norfolk coast. I could see the shining sea over the treetops and the silence was almost divine.

I'd never been skiing, or jumped off a waterfall, nor been in a hot air balloon. But I am aiming to do so. Little Monster and I have been talking about all the places we hear about and like to see: she wants to go to Rabbit Island in Japan (and be mobbed by rabbits!) and of course, she wants to go to Singapore. I too would like to return to Japan, and revisit the amazing places I'd been as a teen. But I'd also like to go to the ones I'd never been: Vietnam. Korea, Australia, New Zealand, Africa, China and for some reason, Canada has been on my mind a lot. I would love to see the Northern Lights.

My godparents*, who should be retired, are still seeing the world. They are my inspiration. When my life shattered the first time round in 2000, one of my old friends from university went off on a round the world trip with his wife. The stories he told were marvellous and inspiring, and made me wish I was doing that. 

Well, I'm not certain I could do what my intrepid Tweeter is doing. or what my godparents continue to do, but I am going to give it a damn good shot. Our first stop will be Singapore of course.

+ Irritatingly, it seemed to say that happiness is having a partner and that a family completes you. Gah.
*The bestest, most awesomest grown-ups I have the privilege of knowing. 

You, me and Santa

It's Boxing Day 2015 and I've just spent my first Christmas as a single person in 21 years. It's also the first without family around me, not even my Little Monster. But I wasn't alone.

Bubs and me spent Christmas Eve with a friend and a young family we used to live next to. Yo cooked up a traditional Polish meal for us and there were even presents under a tree! Bubs had a great time helping -- she asked us to guess what dessert was and tricked us into believing it was cake. Much fun was had. And for Christmas Day itself, my lovely friends shared their dinner with me while bubs was at her grandparents' with her father.

So, Santa.

As an unrepentant atheist parent, I am conflicted about the whole Father Christmas thing. I've always told bubs that all her presents were from people who loved her. But of course, everywhere we turn, the inevitable "So what have you asked Santa for this Christmas?" question is asked, and he appears in every place we go. Understandably, bubs is confused too. She knows I don't believe in Santa. But feedback from everyone else indicates otherwise. I could see her mulling over this conundrum in the run up.

On the way home in the taxi, the driver asked if bubs had been good for Santa. The answer was a very firm, "Santa doesn't exist!" and she scrambled out of the cab (the driver was startled and I think a little horrified that someone so young was already so cynical). Minutes later, she scribbled a note to Santa on her sketch pad asking him for a bike and propped it up on the window for him to see. I tried to explain it was too late but she was adamant. Of course, Christmas Day dawned and no bike. Well, she said, that means Santa doesn't exist. I think she'd already decided that and it was a last ditch attempt to prove herself wrong. She's a little sad, and angry I think, but seems to accept that it is so. I suspect that she'd asked Santa for her parents to be together at Christmas and that is what led to the realisation that he isn't real.

But we shared a good Christmas morning together -- she loved her Space Putty and toy Tribble -- and I loved watching her play while I did last minute wrapping. Her father came to collect her and I got the cold shoulder for, I suspect, sending her away. I was a bit saddened, but I know it was the best thing for her. At least for today.

She's not home yet from her grandparents'; I wonder how it went. But when she comes home, I will tell her that I missed her and that I wasn't sending her away. I will tell her that other people love her too and I can't keep her all to myself. She makes so many people happy, it would be too selfish of me not to share.

I have said many times, and as recently as yesterday, that I am not cut out to be a mother. I think I have been looking at this wrong. The shape that I am is not that of a mother as I believe should be, But if I turn my head just so, I can may be see a glimmer of one. And of course, I have the tools and a willing helper to re-shape me. Customised and everything. 

Stretched, compressed, distracted

This past week has really tested my equanimity and I'm afraid by Saturday morning, I was pretty much combusting.

I once wrote that I was not made for motherhood, and I stand by that. I don't love it, not like my amazing friend Celia*, who very clearly does and thrives on it.

For reasons of her own, Little Monster insisted that I pick her up from school every day instead of her father. Seven days of this, and not once did she ask for him or ask about him. She would say things like "You and me and daddy" when telling me a story, but that was rarely. She seems happy enough but by god, by day eight (Saturday) I was in shreds.

In between hustling her up in the mornings for school, picking up from school, playing with her and all the usual day-to-day stuff, I was also looking for work, applying for jobs, and thinking of ways to make money, all of which I had to compress into the few hours that Little Monster was at school. Once we were together, well, it was just all her. There was no room for me.

And as usual, when I get pushed into a corner like that, I start looking for distractions. Or allowing distractions to divert me because that's better than enduring what appears to be endless GAAAH!

I'm glad I'd arranged for her to go to her grandparents' that day. But once she'd gone, the pressure that had been brewing in my head just took over the rest of me and all I could do was curl up under the duvet. A day's productivity lost.

But I am grateful for two old friends (M and M oddly enough!) who have not yet given up on me, even though I had been recalcitrant on the work and money front and not moving as fast as I should.

I'm also utterly grateful for the generosity of others. I can't even begin to tell you how that makes me feel.

The great news is I should be gainfully employed by the end of the week, and my access to delightful diversions will be seriously curtailed. Those who know me now will know this is the thing I will miss the most.

Question is, will I actually give it up? Someone observed that I was hooked on the attention I get from people like him. And he's quite right. Come on, who doesn't love being desired, especially if the person doing it is young and beautiful?


*If it weren't for her and her generous family, I don't know if Little Monster would be safe from me.