Today I am dressed so that I resemble a strawberry-by that I mean that I am wearing a red polka dot vest and my hair is up in a high bun with hair sprouting out…I am also eating a strawberry split ice lolly-all because I am hoping to go to a PYO strawberry farm later today. I am attempting to win around my husband, who thinks its over priced and too hot to go in the car. He has some good points but I have a campaign strategy that includes an outfit…it will be a hard battle, but I believe I will be victorious.
But I wanted to share with you a little precious moment that happened the other day. I was at a women’s conference-which traditionally I struggle with, but credit where credit is due I do find our churches ones to be insightful and encouraging. This one I cannot claim to have got much inspiration from, mainly because I spent the few hours I was there chasing around my daughter and trying to keep her busy with endless snacks and the odd toy I had brought with me. It was a poor combination and it didn’t work out too successful.
As I wandered around following her in and out of the doors, I was struck by how distant I felt from the whole experience. I was reminded of that scene in the Letdown where the main character is travelling on the bus after taking her newborn to a club because she didn’t want to miss out, and then see’s a group of girls drinking wine from a box on the back of the bus and then starts crying for the life she no longer has. (Disclaimer that was a crappy description the programme is brilliant and worth a watch, its on Netflix).
Now I am not trying to say a women’s conference is my version of a night out-its not, I do love a good dance and a drink with friends-but I also love learning (slight geek but still feel rebellious because my stationery has rude words on it!)
I love to sink my teeth into something and really wrestle with it…and right now that part of my life seems near on impossible. Even when I don’t have my daughter with me, I still feel tired or wondering if she is ok and has everything she needs. I find myself getting distracted because I am thinking about flippin shopping lists (we always need something), or how nice/clean the person next to me looks/smells and whether they have loads of money or they just spend time looking after themselves?
Anyway there I was feeling glum (honestly glum is such a brilliant word isn’t it?) and my daughter put her hand in mine and left a little stone-a bit like a rich person subtly giving their waiter/waitress a tip. I looked at the smooth stone she had left me with and truth be told I nearly cried. (I didn’t because I have started to get a handle on this crazy emotions just a mere 15 months after having her.)
I was so grateful for the little reminder that she roots me and grounds me in my current season of life. She is not my best friend, because 1) I am her mum and that is more than enough, (2) I am hoping she will have her own best friends in time, and (3) also I would be gutted if my best friend was a 15 month old who can’t really talk, likes to eat soil as much as cake and can’t watch Love Island. Finally (4) she has a long way to go to live up to my actual friends, see previous post on their brilliance.
But she is my daughter, she is who I am investing in and she is enough.
Obviously I hope the gifts from her will improve-the rock is lovely (And like the sentimental schmuck that I am I will keep it) but hopefully she will learn the joy of giving flowers, books, cake (ideally not made out of mud) and other desirable things.)
It is ok to be grounded by life, and it is ok to find the adjustment hard but there is good in this season too-there can be foundations laid here and strength to be found.