Mami Rhedeg

This summer, I've been paying more attention to the kinds of posts I, my friends and my family post on various social media sites.  Generally speaking, the posts are positive. Painting pictures of smiling, happy days out, family holidays...  I do the same... And have done over the past years. The memory app function on Facebook pops up every day, showing a raft of pictures and posts about things I, and my family did in the past. And they've all been positive, generally smiley posts.  But what hides behind those 'picture perfect' images I keep being reminded of are the untold stories...  The times spent wondering what to do, because I needed to see another adult. Talking to them would be a bonus, but not essential... The mad planning to get us anywhere on time.  The times when I've just sat, watched, and tried not to cry because I was exhausted.  The meltdown that happened 20 seconds before leaving the house because I made the wrong kind of sand...

Names. We all have them. We use them everyday. Our names are what we use to define us, who we are. The process of changing your name, as a woman, is both terrifyingly simple, and devastatingly complex.  When I changed my name after my wedding, the process was simple. Straightforward. Banks, the DVLA, Passport... All were happy with the click of a button and the marriage cert... which, technically doesn't actually state your 'new' surname on it. They all just assume that you're changing to your husband's name. Voila. Done. The same isn't true in the other direction... The process of reclaiming ME, my original identity, has taken far longer than it did to lose it.  The paperwork is far more complex. The order in which you reclaim your name far more precise than that in which you lost it. I'm still working on getting my identity back. But when I do, because I gave it up for a while, I'll need to remember that I need to carry a lot more paperwork ...

OK, so, if looking out your window is anything like looking out of mine today, then you're probably wondering why I'm writing about gardens on a day that we're pretty much guaranteed to not be using them ... so here goes ... For years I battled a garden space that never seemed to work.   From the time my LG was born, it seemed to become unuseable in any consistent sense as a family space, with the main spaces being building sites and unsuitable for children playing in them for years.  The planting itself was time consuming to manage, and with much of it being hidden away from sight of the house, felt like a total waste of time, but one that had to be done else the whole house looked neglected.   The most disheartening part, was, that although I spent a LOT of my time in that garden, trying to make it useable, so that it was a relaxing space that my LG could play in, because 'all' I did was the maintenance, not the showy bits, noone ever once to...

This Daily Mash article popped up on my Facebook feed today, and made remember a train of thought I'd had, in my head, a few weeks ago.   When exactly did we start needing to plan playdates, coffee dates, trips to the park ... replacing just meeting up in an ad hoc way with our friends and family?  I'm not talking about meeting up for elaborate dinners, nights out or fancy activities, which, in all honesty do need to be planned to a certain degree.  But those impromptu, random drop-in visitis, that sometimes lasted less than 10 minutes, but other times expanded into hours of unplanned fun.   I grew up in a house, where the front door was knocked by both my friends, and those of my brother and my parents, as well as our family.  Some expected, some not.  Sometimes those unexpected visits were short ... because we really were just on our way out, we were about to sit down to dinner or the visitor was just dropping something off.   Bu...

This past year has been a whirlwind ride, to re-set the course of my life in the right direction ... forwards, not backwards.  Looking up, not down.   So much of the pain I felt previously I hid, to protect my LG, to give her the best life possible. But in protecting her, all I did was hurt myself.   Has it been easy?  Far from it at times. It has been both the hardest year of my life, and also one of the happiest.  I've started to find me again.  To be me again.   I've learnt a lot.  About myself.  About people.  About life. I've realised that putting myself first doesn't mean that I'm a bad / incompetent / useless mother.  Neither does it mean that I am a bad partner. So what made me light the match that changed my life?   A combination of little things.  Things that, on their own, aren't really significant ... but rolled together, they become huge.  And insurmountable.  I've gone from bei...

This info graphic by The Depression Project popped up on my FB time line over the past few days. It sums up a lot... And is probably applicable to many of us, even though we don't necessarily think of depression and anxiety as mental illnesses. We have a range of classification levels for when our bodies are visibly broken, scratch - cut - sprain - fracture - break... But that range doesn't really exist in our everyday vocab for when we're hurt or broken on the inside. And we seem to be less good at supporting, understanding and helping ourselves and others in those circumstances when needed. Am I an expert? Far from it. But I do know that the cycle shown in the image is a pretty accurate reflection of the thought process that has gone around my head during most of the past 6 years. Many of the people who were around me over the past 6 years, have fallen by the wayside. Others who have moved away, have been better at keeping in touch, in checking in in various ways...

Sometimes, I find it hard to remember, that my 'job description' as a parent isn't the same as that of a children's party entertainer.  I shouldn't be thinking that I need to be 'fun' all the time, but, I have to admit that sometimes, I do feel guilty when I say 'no' to something my LG wants to do. Yes, I want the best for my LG. Yes, I want her to experience great fun family times.  I want her to have the opportunity to do and see new things. But, I do need to remember that it's not actually my job to make sure she's constantly entertained.  That there's always something for her to do.  hings to do. Sometimes I feel guilty because I have to say no to doing fun things with her. I don't say no because I don't want to do the fun stuff.  But sometimes, I do just need to get things done, to do the shopping or run errands, or just get to the end of the build up of chores and housework (less likely to happen now than in the past ...