What a week. We’ve got so much achieved. CM’s room overhaul is coming on, Mr J’s been painting, I’ve finally got back into studying, and of course work. And I’ve been so proud of CM, B and E.
Throw in getting back into after-school routines, throwing myself into work, and coping with Mr J.
I do love him. He’s been in for surgery again. So we’ve had the build up. I love what a wuss he can be. Well, until I realised I’ve never been under general anaesthetic. I will not judge.
Whilst I’ve tried my best to get my head back into my studies, life has made me want to escape from work with full force.
I’ve made a start on Zadie Smith’s Swing Time and feel so much better for it. I’m feeling grateful that it’s embraced me and I’m enjoying turning the pages.I also read this quote in the week:And I love it. I don’t work on a Monday but even so it applies. Well, usually until Thursday.
I feel like I’m getting back into the same ruts work-wise with struggling more within than beyond. Wondering. I watch myself throwing things in for the sake of rebellion and wonder why. I’m going to console myself with so many other positive relationships which mean I make promises I want to keep.
I have no idea why but on the drive to CM’s climbing lesson on Sunday we ended up talking about what was number 1 on the day she was born. I bought the CD which is in her memory box. She eventually found it on Spotify. I tried to translate it. And explained how much it has had nothing and everything to do with her life.
And as I thought about everything which is Gavin and Stacey. From sitting in the Pennines reminiscing about life in South Wales… to now visiting Barry Island as often as we please. But at the moment the humour isn’t transferable to my 8 year-old daughter. The best point of reference I could find was Tom Jones being the man on The Voice.
Ironically, the number one on the day the boys were born was ‘What’s my name’. Given how often I get it wrong.
I’m feeling proud of myself of this front, given the things on the list. I’ve made a good start on our photo wall, and thanks to Mr J being nervous about this week’s surgery he’s been painting. Which means the stairs and landing are coming together, as well as CM’s bedroom.
But, as something I’m responsible for, I’ve spent the week pulling together some invitations for a birthday. And as always I can’t believe it… a friend’s daughter is two years old already!
Is it so wrong that I’ve been completely loving being back in my winter clothes this week?
I bought a camel coloured duffle coat earlier this year, and am loving finally getting the chance to wear it.
Which has been bittersweet.
I’ve been thinking of going back to red hair wise, but am loving how well my hair co-ordinates with my coat.
And knitted jumpers and knee-high DMs have come out, happy days.
I’m feeling grateful, again, this week for the NHS.
I’ve mentioned we’ve been back in Wales six years.
And this week Mr J went in for his third surgery on his hand. Three times in six years.
And my miserable man came home commenting on how it’s like going to a hotel- “everyone’s so friendly and professional”.
I love the NHS.