A quote; Only those playing Hide-and-Seek should be hiding

Bucket List.  This is an idea right up my street; it involves lists and dreams all in the same package, what’s not to love?  Immediately the (great) film came out and Bucket List hit the world I was on it.  I made a list, actually I made several, abandoned some, changed ideas and very gradually whittled down my expectations.  Off came ‘Have dinner with Djimon Hounsou’ and on went slightly more realistic goals such as ‘See a whale, live and free’.  It began to occur to me that a good Bucket List should have achievable goals in order to be a successful and true to life list.  It’s all very well putting on ‘be a millionaire, buy a castle, ride in the Grand National’ if you are well on your way to already achieving those things.  If you have a goal that is, somehow to make yourself ‘happy’ then why place that goal out of reach?  My list today contains wonderful things I’m aiming for – Have Tea at The Ritz, Send a message in a bottle, attend a festival, travel somewhere amazing on a  train………. All these and more are within a possibility, making the list real.  

I think my list should grow and become organic with my day, I should include things like visit family more, write more, tidy more, exercise more, eat less chocolate.  

Today I read the article from Helen Fawkes, a lady who has thrown herself into a Life List following the discovery of cancer.  It’s an interesting article, much positivity and Helens blog makes interesting reading too.  Why do we make these lists faced with a certain death?  Death is surely certain to us all, the only difference between Helen and I is that she has a more defined date than I do.  It is, as she says, more of a no-regret way of living, do what you can, as much as you can as soon as you can.  I am a great believer and preacher of this way of thinking, I push my children to be the best of themselves every day, not to achieve grandeur and wealth (although……) but to attain peace and happiness.  I am a great believer and a most useless follower.  I do not do this in my own life, I am, it seems a huge fan of the excuse – the why I can’t in life.  I shall be standing in Heaven saying ‘oh I didn’t know my time was running out’ with some surprise.  I know it.  I am not sure how brave I am.  Hey…….. here’s a thought, maybe I should NOT have only achievable things on my list, maybe I should have seemingly unachievable things in order to push myself.  How crazy a thought is that!

I read yesterday that about a woman who said she had dealt with everything that life had thrown at her (and much had been thrown) by each day writing down three things that made her happy.  I am going to copy that.  Today my three things are 

a) I have a family, mixed and mayhem at times, love and laughter at others, but it’s a good thing to have  

b) when I work I am surrounded by desks, computers, buildings, shops, cars, more computers, busy busy world; but just outside my window there is a great tree and it shares the seasons with me, I look at it often  

c) I brought in my own lunch and so do not have to buy lunch

I also read about George Price, the gentleman who came up with a formula to explain altruism.  The question was if we needed to be selfish creatures to survive in evolution how come we can be altruistic.  The argument, as I understand it, is that we can be selfless if we recognise a kin, as in we will help those we understand to be linked to ourselves and our own survival.  I’m not about to launch into a philosophical debate, nor study the biological premise, in fact I may not even go so far as to use the word premise in my blog.  My own feeling is we have a soul.  And a soul doesn’t need an evolutionary cause to help others.  It’s a human element, in my belief, a God placed portion.  But the point that I have leisurely meandered to is this – George Price said he would lay down his life for two brothers or eight cousins.  I would lay mine down for one.  One cousin, one brother, one child, one stranger.  Not because I am willing to leave, but because life is so very important.  All life.  And should be cherished and saved.

And here I go again, a lecture.  For it has just occurred to me – what are the bucket lists of the homeless, the abused, the lonely.  

On my list – do more, be more, be all that I can be this day.

Summertime. And the living is easy

I hate to open my thoughts-on-page with something of a profanity but……. "come back here, you little shit!”  These words were screamed in high anger at a two year old boy running down the supermarket aisle this week, shouted by his grandmother in the presence of his mother who said nothing.  The queue and I were dumbly shocked.  We exchanged glances and unspoken condemnation passed between us.  No one challenged.  Should we?  But it has stayed with me for days.  Some part of me feels that those people probably love that child, they’d probably defend him at all costs, yet what damage do they put into his young forming mind?  In the same week I heard a story from an ex Oxfam worker – he was telling how, during a great famine, he had approached a starving baby, all eager to save it; equipped as he was with a tube feeder.  He was waved away by the mother; “he has suffered enough, let him die”.  Such love, such a giving love.  What a contrast, and brought by accident of birth and ill fortune of war.  

People often say (do they still?) ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ to young children.  I wanted to be a mother, that was it.  At one time that would have been admired, but not now, now the Government and society look down on the stay-at-home Mum, the career woman is the flavour of the day, the successful, be the same as a man woman is king.  And good for her.  I’m not ever going to enter a march for Women’s rights, and I like a man to open the door for me, but I respect women who want a career, who forge out a career.  I respect also the woman who works to pay her own bills.  And the woman who has to work even if she doesn’t want to.  But.  But it is the responsibility, the duty of every woman to ensure if she has a child that that child has the best care possible for each and every day.  That may be her, or her mother/aunt/sister/cousin/husband or it may be an excellent nanny, or childminder.  It may be a great neighbour, or grannie.  But, in my opinion, in my own view, it should not be dumped in a nursery from 6am till 6pm and nor should it be with a grandmother who calls it a shit.  It may be oh so old fashioned my friend, but I swear that society would be a better place if parents were actively rewarded for bringing up good children and mums/dads were held in the highest of regard and given financial benefits to stay at home and raise the children themselves.  Motherhood (and fatherhood for the stay at home dad) should be a career, should be a respected, well paid career, for I guarantee you, when done well, no job is harder and none carries with it such lifelong consequences.

The sun is shining.  The grass is greener, people are smiling, everything seems lighter, brighter.  How wonderful it all is.  People are a lot friendlier in the sunshine, maybe that’s why the British has so much cool reserve and stiff upper lip – we live under a raincloud.  But today clouds are dispersed and we have sun.  Obviously within two days we’ll be moaning it’s too hot and we can’t sleep.

My son has a new home, one he has bought, which is odd as only a year or two ago I bought one too, as a newlywed, with no children……… how did the time flash by so quickly.  I lost my home, not in a ‘goodness-where-have-I-put-it way, but omg no money kind of way.  I am proud my son has bought his and I know he will be happy in it; it’s a warm and welcoming place.  

My daughter is off to India soon, a place hotter than hot so she will thrive, she will absorb spice, heat and strange ways and the adventure will be hers to have.

So both are off and independent and I love it.  And a small portion of me still sits by the window of that once owned home and waits for them to run in from school, awash with news and tales, carrying plans and seeking food.  So, as we slip into the great Summer Holiday of schooltime I hope that the majority of parents welcome it, that families enjoy being together, laugh together, play together and learn together.  For, if nothing else, you probably won’t have to watch them starve to death.

http://www.dec.org.uk/

What if, in order to get something you wanted, you had to have some sadness in life. Do you still want it?

I want my little one to follow her dreams and her feet to faraway places where she can dance under foreign skies and dance in distant theatres, but then I shall be sad in a place that misses her and her laughter and chatter. And rooms will seem emptier

I want my first born to be happy and meet a like minded soul who takes over his waking day and talking moments.  And I shall be sad in the place that misses him as he will be hers and not mine, he will forget to call and cards will come signed from her with his name on, and I will miss his wisdom and humour. And life will seem to go more slowly

And I want another thing, a memory of wanting it has grown with me through the years and now it might, maybe might, be within reach.  To get it I may have to step over a friend, and maybe lose them.  And I will miss them and their funny ways, and their caring days and the evenings will be quieter, the days away will have less meaning.

And yet I still want it all, would gladly make the deal, the exchange.  Because the happiness that would come from the one would surely sweep over the slight sadness of the other.  The peace and contentment that comes from one will fill the places left empty by the other.  This I believe.

If my children never left, never went for a dream, gave up on life, gave up on hope and love and living as full a life as they can.  Now, that would be a travesty.  That would be sadness indeed.  I have never cared if they be bankers or work in Pizza Hut, if they are happy and content with their lot.  I am proud of what they do, what they believe in, what they are creating.

And in respect for that I too must go for what I want, and live without the regret of letting it go.  Let someone else be the one to say no if that how it turns out.  For now I’m going to try.

All that we are is the result of what we have thought

My eyes are failing.  Not in a whoosh, more like a gentle decline.  But I notice it, and I mind.  And my knees ache.  And creak as I walk upstairs.  My mind seems as if I was in my thirties…….. teens some days even…. my body has no such false impression, its 50 and it knows it.  In fact some days it thinks it’s hobbling on for 60, maybe more.  My sibling complains of the same.  And we become two old crusties moaning about the onset of old age.  I actually called someone ‘dear’ the other day, a stranger at that.  I must start wearing comfy woollen skirts and sensible brogues.  But, despite all my moans and whinges I cannot help but recall a quote I heard many a year ago that said ‘Do not complain; old age is a gift denied to many’.  

So, I have been watching Born to be Different, and, like every year, Shelby carries on, her parents given a rollercoaster of emotions as she slips towards death and then rebounds back to life in the full.  Now she has been given a diagnosis that confirms an early death, and her family must prepare.  Like many families do, every day.  Families in hospitals, families in hospices, families in war areas, families in famine.  And it is an odd thing that a date given for death, even a rough time span, somehow brings out in us a need to be closer to that little life, maybe do more, see more, hug more.  I want to know why.  Not why do we do it.  But why don’t we do it for the children who have 30 years left, or 40, 50, 60 even.  Some do I know, but so many don’t.  Not that they don’t feel the love, but it is so often taken for granted.  Until that phone call, that visit, that piece of news.  Then you spend a moment wishing you had said more, hugged more, laughed more.  Don’t waste a day.  Not even one.

And a debate on the Radio – who should be responsible for the homeless?  This was based on a news story where local religious centres were feeding and caring for the homeless, and the radio personage was asking was it their job to do so, should it not be ‘the government’.  Well people called in and offered many an opinion.  I’d like to offer mine.  Who should be responsible?  You should.  I should.  You over there.  Everyone. Us.  We all should.  Why should we pass it on?  How can we walk by?  Who is this magic government that can absolve us from helping a fellow human being in need of help?  Do a little, do something.

We had a pretend Christmas.  We played games, we laughed, we ate, we joined as family and friends, and, I dare say, we hugged a little.  And we held a fun auction and raised some money for people with no food, no pretend Christmas and, who knows, maybe no hugs.  Simples.

"I'm proud of you for the times you came in second, or third, or fourth, but what you did was the best you have ever done" Fred Rogers quote

“Are you proud of me?” little one asked.  How to answer.  Yes, so proud, no words to say how much, of course I am.  Of course?  As in aren’t all parents proud?  Well, no, I don’t think they all are.  But I am.  Proud as punch, as they say.  I like who my children have grown into, I like their ethics, their morals, their kindness to others.  I am proud of what they have achieved workwise, and socially.  Do we just feel pride by what we hold in esteem?  So if I value honesty and truth, am I only proud of those who are honest and truthful?  Maybe.  But if they lied and were still kind to others and still happy people I would still be proud.  

I wonder, sometimes, about other mothers.  Mothers of people we don’t like.  I was greatly moved to read that parents of a child who had been killed hugged the father of the killer as the father sobbed for what his son had done.  That is some forgiveness!  And what of the parents of Dictators, parents of bullies, parents of the journalists who have hacked into people’s phones, parents of drug traffickers.  Are they proud?  Do they have quiet proud memories when things were better? 

There is a quote I love, from John Lennon, talking of his son. He says;

“He didn't come out of my belly, but my God, I've made his bones, because I've attended to every meal, and how he sleeps, and the fact that he swims like a fish because I took him to the ocean. I'm so proud of all those things. But he is my biggest pride.”

And this is what I mean.  Are we proud of the things we helped to mould and create in our little ones, or are we proud of who they are, the humanity of them, what they do and say and feel?  I think it’s both, and the latter is the larger.