Notes from suburbia

At the end of the first year of being without you, I marvelled that I was still standing.   I was exhausted from the effort.   I felt that everyone else had moved on, except for my Mum of course, who appeared to be lost to me, and to her Grandchildren, and to herself.   That said, there was something about reaching the ‘one year anniversary of your death’  that showed me that I could continue to move through life regardless of my sadness and suffering.   We had continued to settle in to the house we had moved into only a few months before your death, we had painted the walls and planted up the garden.   New schools had been chosen for the boys.   We had carried on.   Some of the saddest times came when the milestones in our lives occurred, like the boys starting their new schools, and you were no longer there to share in those moments.  However, a fter twelve months of floundering, of experiencing feelings that presented themselves from...

Have you ever noticed how the lyrics of love songs can apply to all sorts of different situations?   Despite the fact they may have been penned with a lover in mind, the words are often transferable to other relationships; to reflect the love within a friendship or to capture the emotion felt between a parent and child.  I was reminded of a great example of this earlier today. When The Teen was a small baby in the early weeks of his life, he spent much of his afternoons and evenings relentlessly crying from the condition dreaded by parents of young babies, COLIC.   Oh my, how we both felt that we suffered during this time.   Him, constantly wanting to feed, only to find my milk seemed to increase his distress, me, feeling like an inadequate mother, helpless and exhausted. As the minutes and hours ticked by during those long and lonely drawn out days, the only release from our distress was for me to hold this small babe of mine and to keep him moving.  ...

During our first visit to Ile La Graciosa – the 'graceful isle' – three and a half years ago, we fell in love with the place.   This lesser known Canary Island, stole a place in our hearts and we knew that one day we would return.   Wide open, largely uninhabited spaces   Clear turquoise fish-filled seas.   Nothing but warmth from the locals and the weather.   During the October school half-term holiday we made our way back there and I captured our journey back there. Journeying The alarm sounds at 1.30 am, three hours after it was set and approximately two hours and thirty minutes from when my body gave in to sleep. The lost half an hour between falling gratefully into bed and actually drifting into unconciousness was given over to nervous anticipation about the adventure ahead – not least, the knowing we would need to wake up one kid and one teen at 2am. As the tune chiming from my phone increases in intensity I swipe blindly at the screen and sear...

Way back when, at the beginning of this year, we (as in me and my Beloved) recognised that despite all we have and are grateful for in our lives, we were not feeling particularly content.  We had (once again) created exceptionally busy day-to-day lives for ourselves.  Too busy.  We were not allowing enough time and space to embrace the slow living adventures we enjoy with the people we love.  We made the following decisions:- We would make some changes to redress our work-life balance. We would use any spare cash and time we have on adventures - family holidays, mini-breaks, daytrips, creating experiences at home and beyond. We would become increasingly engaged in the activities we enjoy individually and together as a family. We would prioritise spending more time with the people we love. We would reconnect with each other and stop blaming each other for all that felt wrong with our worlds. We saw that we  needed more time simply 'being' and less time '...

The  inevitable truth that I am slowly but surely turning into my Mother is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.  I stare at my forty three year old face in the mirror taking in the lines and shadows illuminated by the harsh artificial light necessary on this dimly lit October morning.  Embarking on the process of applying rose coloured blusher to my cheeks and eyelids I am nonchalant in my use of the same brand and shade of blusher for many years now.   I am transported back to my eight year old self , watching intently as my mum - herself then at the age I am now - applied her make-up.  I recall how disappointed I was at the time to discover the limitations of her make-up supply and the knowledge that she had used the same brand and shade of blusher for the previous two decades.   Now I get it. Further evidence in support of the 'I am turning into my mother' debate include:- ...

It’s been quite a week.   The Eleven Year Old and The Four Year Old have both started their new schools.   I for one was anxious, about ‘THE FIRST DAY’, but also quietly confident that they would be brave and find their way through the confusing onslaught to the senses and emotions that new experiences such as these bring. It seems slightly surreal to me that I can remember my own experiences of starting both Primary and Secondary school so vividly and yet already I have children who are now going through this themselves.   Am I really that old.   Yes I am.   I have been asked on many occasions what I will do with all this spare time that I will now surely have on my hands.   Well, first and foremost, I plan to give myself a little rest after the trauma of getting two boys equipped and ready for this week.   DO NOT underestimate how much effort and concentration – not to mention cash – is required to kit out two children to start new schools....

The three year old is sat on the loo having a pre-nursery wee (apologies if that's a little too much information).... The three year old: “Shall we fly to the moon Mummy?” Me:   “Well I don’t see why not.    Would you like to go right now?”   The three year old:   “No, not now Mummy.   We’ll go on my birthday.   In July.   Moon moon moony-y moon moon".

Picture the scene....we are staying at my in-laws house in 'Fancy London'.  Gathered around the dining table is The Husband, The Eleven Year Old, The Three Year Old, The Mother In-law, The Father In-law, The Sister In-law and me. The Eleven Year Old:  "I'm thinking of putting the kettle on, would anyone like a tea?" A moment of silence whilst we all take in this golden moment of deep joy. The Husband:  "We have reached the pinnacle of parenting".

During the past few weeks I have tried to ease my sadness through writing but have failed.   And then I sat down tonight and this piece practically wrote itself.   I apologise in advance for any self indulgence. _________________________________________ It is three months since my Dad died; from a heart attack that saw him living his life one minute and laid dead on the floor the next. Shocking doesn’t even cover it.   Maybe we should have been more prepared for his eventual fate.  He had lived the last twenty three years, of his seventy eight years of life, with heart disease and a number of other health concerns that had niggled away at him without stealing his pleasure of living.   But we were not prepared.   He was here.   And now he is gone.   I have no siblings.   I was my Dad’s only child.   His proud to be ‘Daddy’s girl’ who loved him.   Adored him.   Who aches from missing him.   I saw my Dad for the las...

Two weeks and five days ago my Dad died.  It happened suddenly.  His heart stopped.  He was at home. Sat in his favourite arm chair.  Watching TV with his youngest Grandson sat by his feet.  He had just been out to tend to his beloved garden, accompanied by my youngest son and by his wife, my Mum.  He was exactly where he wanted to be, after living a good life.   Two days ago, we celebrated his life at his funeral. We wore his favourite colour, green.  We thought of the good times. There were beautiful flowers and a casket of willow.  This is my tribute to him.       Bri Mitchell 21 October 1936 to 3 November 2014    My Mum and Dad, aged Eighteen My Dad, Bri Mitchell, was one of the kindest, caring, and most genuine men you could have had the pleasure to have known.   One of life’s good people.  As you will see from the photo of him and my Mum when t...

Why is the sky blue?  W hy no Peppa? Why J (The Ten Year Old) doing that Mummy?   Why we going home?   Why I need suncream?   Why Daddy going there?  Why moving my trike Mummy? Why Mummy? Why not Mummy?   Mummy why?   Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?   Yes.   It’s safe to say The Three Year Old has well and truly embraced the ‘why stage’!

“….to over indulge in something…to become tired of it…lose enthusiasm”      Online Dictionary 2014 Deciding to move house. Completing a degree and finding work.   Becoming disillusioned with a current career. Planning and booking holidays. Maintaining a sense of normality in family life.   End of year school events: sports day; summer fair; school disco; Deciding to quit the day-job after sixteen years of working for the one organisation.   Packing up a house.   Planning for the future.   Enjoying time with family and friends. Applying for jobs.   Resurrecting a business idea and developing new ones. Moving house.   Having food poisoning. Leaving a job.   Going on holiday.   This is a summary of the past four months of our lives. The Husband, The Ten Year Old, The (now) Three year old. And Me. Jaded?   Yes a little.   Jaded by everyday living, simultaneously coping with big, life changing ev...

As you are probably aware, a few days ago le Tour de France was in the UK  Not just anywhere in the UK but, for at least some of the time, in Yorkshire. My 'bit' of Yorkshire to be precise.  Yes, the le Tour came to Sheffield!  And not only that, it came within a few hundred meters from our front door. This was incredibly exciting - from our own personal perspective - for a number of reasons... It isn't often that a massive sporting event almost passes by your very own house - we even had 'official' tour bunting strung along our street! It was a real opportunity for the whole family to get involved in the fun, not least the making of decorations - we may have gone a little overboard...(see photos below!!) The local community embraced the chance to celebrate the event together. From the annual festival in the Park extending to run over two days in order to become a le Tour Spectator Hub, to the gathering of local residents to watch the screen...