Monty

Amongst a week full to the brim, my baby turned three last week, so unnerving the way time plays its tricks on us again and again. One minute they're in your arms, the next they're charging around and, before you know it, they're talking about starting Kindergarten. Without you. He seems so ready to grow, this bold and loving boy of mine, so confident of his next move that it calms me. I don't grieve the loss of his babyhood because to watch him growing with such surety is a joy.

Of course, there are moments of a sweet sort of sadness for me. My world is changing along with theirs. We said goodbye this week to Monty's beloved Sally at our Parent and Child group, and I will miss that peaceful and regenerative space hugely. Eli also said goodbye to Kindergarten and comes home to me full time from September. These are the things that mark our journeys - endings, beginnings and birthdays.

We celebrated on the day of Monty's birthday with hot chocolates in a cafe and a rainy visit to the playground. On Saturday we had a party, with games and food and cricket in the park. Lots of wonderful people were there; it was a day of sunshiney goodness. Grandparents, uncles, cousins, grown up friends and little friends were all present to share Monty's birthday, to celebrate his little life and show their love. Growing up is what we're all doing one way or another and we know it isn't all ukuleles and birthday cake, but if we look about there will always be plenty of company to celebrate our triumphs, listen to our woes or to just help us have some very happy birthdays.

Playing away

After a weekend of switching off I'm back in my life contemplating how to slip off my beaded sandals and slip back into motherhood. Having waited five years to leave them overnight, going away without the boys for the first time ever was perfectly timed. I was definitely ready for a mini-separation and they were pretty laid back about me going. As soon as we were on the road I felt the responsibilties of family life fall away. With a good friend at my side, we drove towards the sea.

We pitched our tent looking out to the bay and exclaimed a fair bit at our good fortune. The sun which had surprised us on the trip out was setting, leaving a brooding sky suspended over a dark sea. High on a heady mix of sea air, freedom and friendship we meandered into town for an evening of music, beer and good company. Unfortunately, so carefree were we that we forgot to take notice of our route and spent a considerable amount of time at a very late hour wandering about clueless as to how to get back to our campsite. Thanks, however, to my companion's calmness and positivity in the face of my growing panic, we were soon back at base.

What followed was heart-sharing, sunshine, another friend arriving, coastal walks and the deep peace that comes from totally letting go. I took every opportunity to lay my bones upon the ground and breath in the warmth of the sun and the vastness of the sky. No worries or hurries, just connection and ease. The god of good times was smiling on us and we were granted the sublime combination of heavenly weather and breathtaking surroundings.





Oh, and we ate bread...lots of bread - from French sticks to pain au chocolat fried on a grill pan, we didn't hold back. Crazy times...

When motherhood first happens many of us are overwhelmed by the realisation of what it really means to be completely responsible for these little souls who've landed on our laps. Although the initial shock passes, the responsibility remains; being able to step away even for a brief moment felt like a gift. I felt a lightness and a sense of self that is sometimes difficult to locate when deep in the work of mothering.

I am infinitely grateful for this time away, for the space and rejuvenation it offered my poor weary brain. The challenge for me now is how to carry that into real life, how to remember to breathe and let go when all around me is crumbling. When those moments of awful challenge face me, I'm hoping I can meet them a little more patiently and with a little more grace when I recall the sea, the sky and unzipping our tent each morning to the dazzling light of the day.

Community

A sense of community, being connected to those around me in meaningful ways, is essential for my spiritual and mental well-being. I am hugely thankful, therefore, that I live in a place that seems to ooze connectedness on so many levels. Today was rich with the sense of belonging, from many meetings and greetings at the market, through celebrations in the village park, to our Wednesday communal meal with friends.

Our little village boasts three totally different schools - a primary, a Montessori and a Steiner school and all three were involved in today's grand unveiling of a new sculpture in the park. Many of the children have contributed in some way to the little space next to the woods, suggesting designs for the play equipment and the giant wood carving, planting in the little garden or making wind chimes to hang in the trees. Prizes were given out for special contributions and all the children were treated to a bouncy castle and piles of cup cakes, whilst the adults were treated to pasties and cava. Whilst we were there, the trees were further adorned with little clay goblins, this is Eli's happy chap...

It felt good to be standing in the rain together, admiring park art and watching our children mingle in the mud.

We then zoomed to consume yet more food and communal spirit at our mid-week meet-up at Holme St. I took along some bunting bits...

A few of us decided in the depths of winter that it would be really helpful for us to gather and share a meal in the middle of the week. Any parent who is going it alone, or who has a partner at work full-time, knows just how long the weeks can sometimes feel . It can also get a little lonely unless there are opportunities to share the journey with other families; this Wednesday afternoon get-together helps us do just that. The children play and we prepare food whilst trading tales and news. It also eases the pressure of the daily 'what are we going to eat tonight?' angst. Some weeks I might manage a more elaborate meal but other weeks i might just take a plate of chopped carrots. It doesn't matter, we always have enough between us. 

Eli and Monty love coming here, I think it might be the highlight of their week. It seems such a beautiful and simple way for us parents to receive and offer support while giving our children's friendships space to deepen. It would be great to see our group and others grow, not just for families and friends, but for whole communities. In an increasingly isolating time for many people, creating ways to find each other, helping everyone feel like they're a part of something and valued can only be a good thing. Allowing each one of us, however we're feeling, to find strength and hope in the simple act of coming together.

Summer with monika

they say the sun shone now and again
but it was generally cloudy
with far too much rain

they say babies were born
married couples made love
(often gently)
and people died
(sometimes violently)

they say it was an average
                             ordinary
                             moderate
                             run of the mill
                             commonorgarden
                             summer
...but it wasn't



for i locked a yellowdoor
and i threw away the key
and i spent summer with monika
and monika spent summer with me

unlike everybody else
we made friends with the weather...
mostdays the sun called
                      and sprawled
allover the place
or the wind blew in
as breezily as ever
and ran its fingers through our hair



but usually
it was the moon that kept us company

somedays we thought about the seaside
and built sandcastle on the blankets
and paddled in the pillows
or swam in the sink
and played with the shoals of dishes

otherdays we went for long walks
around the table
and picnicked on the banks
of the settee
or just sunbathed lazily
in front of the fire
until the shilling set on the horizon



we danced a lot that summer...
bosanovaed by the bookcase
or maddisoned instead
hulligullied by the oven
or twisted round the bed



at first we kept birds
in a transistor box
to sing for us
but sadly they died
we being too emraced in eachother
to feed them

but it didn't really matter
because we made lovesongs with our bodies
i became the words
and she put me to music



they say it was just
                        like
                        anyother
                        summer

                        ...but it wasn't



for we had love and eachother
and the moon for company
when i spent summer with monika

and
    monika
           spent summer
                 withme

Roger McGough

Love and blessings Tudor and Beth xx