motherhood, stray thoughts
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Four

Wildeve in frost | edge of evening
I sometimes find myself thinking the strangest things. One of these thoughts, which occurs somewhere towards the end of every school term is, it’s always some time of the year. It sounds like a complaint, and in some ways it is, but I take comfort from it. It’s true, if it’s not nearly the summer holidays, then it’s Harvest Festival, or Easter, or someone’s birthday, or it’s Christmas. And though each of these things means that cakes have to be baked or presents wrapped or costumes acquired or fashioned, they’re also the rhythm to our year, the seasonal beat to our children’s childhoods.

I just looked back at this time last year. Once again, it’s the school Christmas Fair tomorrow. We celebrated the Pip-Pop turning four last weekend. Earlier in the week one of his pre-school teachers heard me calling him Mops (Popsy/Pops/Mops — all still in use) & laughed. And I thought, oh, yes, he’s C to you. He sat down at the table earlier in the week and declared that he was going to write his Christmas cards now, and he did. Since nobody’s taught him to write, there were no finger spaces, and there was lots of, what letter next? but it was pretty impressive. Having had a child with no interest in drawing or writing between T and the Pip-Pop, it’s really funny to again have one who just naturally assumes that he can do this stuff.

His party was the absolute best. Three friends, all the games, pizza for lunch with a fairy cake for dessert & a slice of the birthday cake (the honey cake from Tessa Kiros’s  Apples for Jam) and a balloon to take home. T had wrapped the pass-the-parcel. B led the games. So all I had to do was sit & drink coffee with my friends & watch. Somehow, in less than a decade of parenting, this was our 19th little one birthday celebration, and I think the experience showed.

The Moose had his nativity earlier in the week & made a very convincing line dancer (!!). Heart-breakingly sweet. T has her Christmas service next week. After the indignity of being donkey number 3 last year, she’s again the younger year in the service & so relegated to just singing and dancing. A show in which she doesn’t have a chance to speak goes against everything she holds dear, so I’m hoping that next year’s part (her final year of primary school!) will satisfy her. She was much happier with the wind band concert last week, in which ‘Frosty the Snowman’ was the crowning glory.

We’ll be spending Christmas at home & then going up to my mum’s for a few days on Boxing Day, partly to see my beautiful new niece & her parents, who’ve had a pretty rough first couple of weeks together. I can’t wait to be with them. B has plenty of time off work, we’re stocked up on Christmas movies, the shopping is so very almost done, and I’m really looking forward to the holidays. Before then, I’ll pop back with a final few book recommendations of the year! Hope the holidaying where you are is going well.

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5 Comments

  1. Lovely, Sarah. I think of those years, when it was always some time, as I sort Christmas ornaments — the macaroni stuck to wallpaper stars, the loops of pipe-cleaners. And I’m sure there’s a stash of crafts made for Easter, Valentine Day, and of course Halloween too. I treasure the little Mother’s Day (I know from Graham Swift that it’s called Mothering Sunday in the UK!) gifts — pictures of children in frames made of popsicle sticks or books with tortuous poems (but cherished!), usually acrostic. Thanks for prompting my own memories. The carol parties, the pageants.

  2. Another year coming to a close, more milestones reached and passed… funny, I feel like that too at the moment. Hope you have a lovely break with your family!

  3. Aimee says

    Ah, I have the same thought–always some time of year! Or perhaps I got it frim you? My 4 does the same writing by the way. And I love Apples for Jam. Huh, this comment is all about how I’m Just Like You. Yikes, hope that’s not too creepy. Happy New Year, anyway!

    • Hey, Aimee. Not creepy at all 🙂 Finding out that we’re not alone with our thoughts/obsessions is one of the things I love about reading (&a writing) blogs. Happy New Year!

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