LondonMaMa

This weekend feels like I have just crawled out of a huge wave. Like I have been spun and rinsed by a Cape Saint Francis dumpster. My ears have only just reached equilibrium and I am standing.  An almost perfect analogy, except that the ocean brain rinsing freshness is missing. That wonderful ozone cool that surviving a big salty leaves you with. Basically I just feel dumped. 

For a moment a couple of weeks ago I thought “jeeze-if-this-is-the-pace-of-my-new-full-time-working-mother-life-I-think-I-better-get-off-this-bronco-pronto-cause-I-just-can’t-keep-the-fuck-up…… !”  It was a treadmill. It was brutal. E and I passed each other over a bowl of something hot in the evening and coffee in the mornings.

But is was year-end and a million projects were being pushed to close to get the numbers on the books and I was going on holiday and we had a temp coming in to cover and I needed to hand over a clean patch for one week and no day is entirely predictable and the phone doesn’t stop and  I gotta walk  out that door at exactly 5:00pm to do my school run and it is a damn fast walk, then the tube, then a walk and then my heart pumps as I walk around the corner and I hear my daughters voice say “mama” in that singing lilt and I smile and we walk home playing games that are so far removed from my day job and sometimes she is tired and I have to carry her some and sometimes she skips all the way home telling me nothing about how she spent her day but asking to pick the violet blue flowers of the weeds that force their way through the cracks in the pavement.  Last week in the eaves of the church we could hear the cheeping of tiny chicks as they waited for their mother to return to the nest. 

My holiday timing wasn’t fantastic. I skipped a busy week at work to go to Umbria.  The dates were non-negotiable. We were celebrating E’s parents 30 years of married life. The entire reconstituted family was there and it was brilliant. 

Totally photographic. E’s sister got engaged. There was no major family fight. (tipsy tears by some after a couple of bottles of wine but those don’t count!).  I don’t drink wine but I did get cosy with a bottle of lemoncello. Discovered the next day that it goes even better with prosecco but I haven’t tried that yet. The lemoncello is in the freezer though.

We had planned to mission out every day to Florence, Rome, or Sienna but after the first day of driving we decided to slow the pace down and apart from seeking gelatti every day in the middle of siesta (when most places are shut), we did not stray too far from the lawn in front of the house. We ate, and sat, and played with the Chi, and I ploughed through the Book Thief by Markus Zusak, which was engaging, in a ‘Terry Pratchet meets Ann Frank’ kind of way. Holes, by Louis Sachar is more surprising. Sweeter.

It has taken me over a week to catch up with myself since and in that time summer finally crossed the channel.  It is still raining but life has returned to a manageable fast walk. I may even get round to calling some friends tomorrow rather than just skimming through facebook to check their status updates every evening.  I will read the backlog posts my favourites have blogged.  I will mow the lawn.  Stir the compost heap in the eager anticipation of a noticeable breakdown of the peels I threw in last week.  I will sit down to write about how my Chi changes almost daily so that a part of me waits eagerly each day to see how she will engage with me. What she will tell me. Ask me.

Yesterday I think we had a moment. We were walking to meet E at Waggas for Friday night dinner cause it is summer and the days are long and I wanted to feel part of the city for a little bit longer and she asked me if she was big.  Told me that some of the girls in her class say she is the smallest and she is a baby.  I had to crouch down to respond. Had to tell her that she was a big girl. That some girls are tall and some are short and that everyone is a little different.  My heart was in my throat.  My daughter might be feeling rejected.   I hate that thought, and I can’t protect her from it.

Today I snuck in an extra yoga class for the week. The most goddamn brilliant class I have done in months. Years even. I splashed out on a class at one of those uber trendy studios that have cropped up all over the place but damn this class had soul. The energy was entirely female and light and enlivened and I had one of those stretch beyond the limits of your knowledge and sweat it out there classes that leave you feeling loose and limber and alive.

And tonight we watched Juno and if you haven’t seen it yet go get it from blockbuster right now!  Quirky.

I guess I am going through a teenage phase in terms of literature and movies. Weird!

As for Zim the news remains constant.  Things are getting worse. There is less of everything and increasing fear.   We all wait and pray, watching from the sidelines helpless to change anything cause you just can’t negotiate with insanity. 

So we crash on our couch, watching it all on the telly and wishing we were there again - knowing that the cameras just can’t capture the magic that happens on site.  Determined to return, with the Chi!   I also stumbled across this site.… and I am not sure exactly what to think!

Zimbabwe. There are no words.

Who Mugabe has become is beyond comprehension. I remember him attending a “Speech Day” at my high school way back in the early 80’s when independence was fresh and there was truly a feeling of optimism and change in the air. Now there is only despair on an almost Biafrian scale. The situation is making international headlines and it feels too little too late. The news that filters out through whispered calls and desperate emails is of a country collapsed. Poverty. Starvation. Intimidation. Fear.

When I hear the blatant lies spouted by people like Boniface Chidyasiku - the Zimbabwean Ambassador to the United Nations as he denies any violence on the part of the police and the army I am so filled with rage I wish I could reach into the screen and hurt him. Hard. Then I wish I could sit with him in a room and force him - with match sticks in his eyes - to watch the video clips and pictures that are flooding our screens. Force him to see before and after shots of homes, farms, families and communities in Zimbabwe. I want to see if he has a conscience. Does he have any regrets or has he stepped so far into the dark side that remorse is beyond him?

I googled him tonight. Ended up on the UN website that gives a brief bio -

” … Prior to his current appointment, Lieutenant Colonel Chidyausiku served as Zimbabwe’s Ambassador and Permanent Representative to the United Nations and the World Trade Organization (WTO) based in Geneva, Switzerland from 1999 to 2002. From 1996 to July 1999 he was his country’s Ambassador to Angola. Before that, he was Ambassador to the People’s Republic of China and was also accredited to the Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea and to Pakistan from 1990 to 1996.

Mr. Chidyausiku served as Deputy Secretary in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in 1990, and as Deputy Secretary in the Ministry of Defence from 1988 to 1990. Between 1986 and 1990 he served as Zimbabwe’s Defence Attache in Washington, D.C. with accreditation to Canada. Commissioned with the rank of Lt. Colonel in 1985, Mr. Chidyausiku served as a combatant with the Zimbabwe Liberation Army between 1975 and 1980.”

He is not the only one that toes the standard party line. How do the high ranking decision makers within Zanu PF sleeps at night. At which point did they turn away from thinking of the success and well being of their people and country and think only of the wealth and power of their elite cabal. Do their children and family look upon them with admiration and pride?  Do they stand before their ancestors with honour?  I think not. I hope not.

I pray for some kind resolution. I pray for peace. 

Am using Meg over there to help me get back into this writing thang…. so if I have to make a choice it would be:

Sun or shade?    Sun! sun! sun! (as long as there is water)

Flip flop or Birkenstock?

 
Beach or lake?      Salt air, ozone and ocean waves, body surfing and getting dumped, sand mermaids and shells no contest.

California or Florida?     Garden Route South Africa - going with what I know!

Lemonade or Iced tea?       Lemonade, freshly squeezed, with a handful of mint.

Sunglasses or hat?      Hat. Big.

Grow your own garden, or head down to the farmer’s market on Saturdays?        Still getting hang of flowers - so its farmers market - does Waitrose count?

Dinner on the patio, or brunch on the patio?       Dinner.

Reggae or Beach Boys?       Reggae - and Uncle Bob still rules.

Margarita or mojito?       Used to be margarita until one long bad night with a bottle of cheap tequila.

Waterskis/wakeboard or mountain bike?       Bike - and I get a new one this month!

Take vacation or avoid tourists?       London in high summer when everyone else leaves…. bliss!

BBQ steaks or BBQ salmon?     Steak.

Convertible or motorcycle?

holding onto to the dream.

Bike or skateboard?     Bike. Easier.

Sailing or kayaking?       Kayaking is on my wish list for someday.

Take pictures of the fun, or take videos?      Snapshot.

Coconut or mango?       Mango - off the tree and sitting in my mothers pool.

Lie on the grass or lie on the sand?      Sand.

Lounge chair or hammock?     Hammock.

Trampoline or… not?     Trampoline…. of course!

 ps - thanks  Meg!

I did - and neither of the two favourites got my vote today!  Can’t vote conservative on principle, and while I think that some of the changes Ken Livingstone has introduced have been successful he lost my vote when he a) extended the congestion charge zone to create a rich mans enclosure against all consultation opinions and b) he prevaricated over the whole Lee Jasper affair.

 So I voted for the Lib Dems - because there is something quite progressive and lovely about voting for an openly gay policeman who has admitted to smoking pot. My decision was not based on such simplistic reasons. I listened to some of the debates and I while Brian Paddick may have lacked in the charismatic personality stakes (compared to bolshy Ken and flopsy Boris) - I thought his views considered, calm and logical and I think that having a lib dem mayor could be the catalyst the party needs to take itself seriously with a view to becoming the party in opposition.

And now to bed!  

the comments alone are worth the link…. 

http://www.theregister.co.uk/2008/04/30/lsd_discoverer/

Apparently it is bad netiquette to blog blag on about busy life, working hard, blogs in head blah blah blah so I won’t.  It’s been an almost perfect week.  Full to exhaustion with late night  chats with a visiting friend, an acupuncture session (if you haven’t you so should!), dinner out with the girls, full work days, school runs, cuddles in the evening and a Saturday of swimming, playing in Hyde park in the drizzle and dinner at wholefoods. (That foursome sitting in the chaos of spilt juice, squashed smeared food and licked clean ice-cream bowls nattering over coffee….? That was us!). Phew. Relived I still have tomorrow… for friends for lunch and my niece coming to play and my sibs coming for tea and oh shite then it all starts again.

 In fact a whole week has somehow flown by between me drafting the paragraph above and sitting down to finish the post - another week of routine week and crazy busy sessions between 6 and 8 pm and then calm time to breath, read, eat, sleep yadda yadda yadda.

I confess that I was nervous about the return to full time work. Worried about coping with full days and long nights and keeping my home ticking over comfortably. It’s been easier than I thought - easier in some ways than negotiating with a three year old all day and nice to be back in an adult environment. So ho hum so cliche I know but this is a mama blog… in transition. 

The advantages of being a full time mom?  There is no negotiating about home time - the pc goes off at 5:00pm and I am out that door - no questions asked, no raised eyebrows. The hard thing? Knowing that there is no time for slack in my day - and working through lunch everyday to keep on top of things.  The best thing about being back at work? Walking down New Bond Street every day - so the very best of London!  The best bit in my day? My daughters excited hug when I pick her up each evening and the desire to make every minute with her count. Her company suddenly so very precious.

Today I started a new yoga class.  My first class this year. 

I thought long and hard about continuing my old class - the one I have been going to almost every week for the last 8 years.  I weighed up giving up an evening with my daughter for my class and I couldn’t do it. It used to be that my yoga class was my only gift to myself each week - precious and sacred. Now it was competing head on with the Chi and  the two hours I spend with her every evening are too precious to even consider giving up. So I’ve found a later class. One that starts after the Chi is in bed.  It is a different style of yoga. Sivananda rather than Iyengar.  An intermediate class rather than an advanced practise class.  The rhythm was different.  Faster. Gentler. It somehow lacked the focus and concentration of my old class. The physical challenge.  I know it was a first class and I need to give it a chance - to make sure we are not going to be doing the same cycle of poses each week. And I may have to learn the discipline of developing my own practise again to keep the challenge going.     

 no words required….