Fretting Mother Alert

Ok I am officially a Fretty-Mum!
Among all the other things I have described myself as on this here blog, I am now fully admitting to having "frantic-Mummy" colly-wobbles! My baby girl has headed off today to her first festival!

There is a part of me that is totally envious. The first 'concert' I ever went to was at the age of about 13 to see Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel at a local venue, the crowd capacity a staggering 1800 (I don't think it was full...). Both my girls have been attending concerts of NEC and G-Mex proportions since the tender age of 5!

But now my baby girl has gone for 5 days of festival festivities with a crowd of her college friends to Reading!
I fear she is terribly ill-prepared but all advise, suggestions, prods and offers of assistance were firmly sneered at.... she knew it was going to be 'immense', she knew the toilets would be 'gross', she knew she would have to sleep on hard ground in the cold, she knew she would have to feed herself etc etc etc....

She is sensible and careful and trustworthy. She is not stupid or foolish. But jeezeroony! It has taken all of my 'cool-Mum' legendary status to let her calmly leave today and wish her a wonderful time!

Tonight it had rained heavily, it is now 9.30pm, I have not heard from her yet. I imagine her tired and wet and possibly hungry (if they haven't eaten all their supplies on the coach down there) and trying to get their tent put up in the dark.... She won't be home till Monday......I can see this feeling a very long fretty weekend!

That Tiny Glimmer

Thursday 5 August 2010 

I miss him. It has only been 5 days and I stupidly miss him. I check my phone and my emails even while knowing that he will not make contact, I categorically know that there will be no words and yet still I check. And when there is a text or mail I am still disappointed once open to see it is not from him. Even though in my heart I know it won’t be.

What is it about human nature that clings to the tiny atoms of hope? That however much you say to yourself that there is none, that you know there is none, that you have accepted there is none…that deep down in your subconscious there is that weenie glimmer, like a tiny spark in a burned out campfire, that with the smallest waft of a breeze can glow fiercely……well that is my hope…..

And my hope is tied into so many other things. Ok, we get through the next 57 days and we reach the fated day of Friday 1^st October, because we will, God willing there is little doubt of that. And what then? A few more wafts to reignite that tiny ember and then nothing…..because in my heart I also know that, that there really is no solution to any of this. That something has got to give, there is no happy ending.

Is it selfish to want a happy ending? Sometimes I think it is and that’s probably because the ending that would feel happy for me would be the ending that would cause deep sadness to others (therefore not happy at all as that in turn would hurt me still). Yet at other times it doesn’t feel selfish, because we would all heal, everyone of us touched by this would heal in time….and maybe things would feel happier by then….

There is no happy ending. If I get what I want others feel deep pain. If I don’t get what I want there is still deep pain. It’s mess, a dreadful mess.

I have tried so hard over recent months to move on from this. In the initial period I know I wallowed and clung, I was scared that if I got over him he wouldn’t come back to me, that if I wiped it all away I would forget it all and him. Over the last year I have tried to put it behind me.

The feelings I had for him, for us, for what we shared I stuck in a box, but the temptation at first to peep and peer in and poke about was immense. So I fitted it with a tight lid. But they seemed to effervesce every so often and blow the lid clean off! So out came the sticky tape and elastic bands, wrapped tightly over the lid to keep in place but gradually they have eroded the bottom of the box and seeped out and now all I seem to be left with is a nasty mess, not contained in the pretty box at all.

So when in 57 days time we meet and talk and smile and laugh (because we will, we always do, so totally maddeningly easily and comfortably) where will it leave things then?

When we met last time we kissed. It was the first time we have kissed for 21 months. I told my friend. She said how was it? And I said like coming home………

Day 5

I was chatting to a friend today, telling them about my impending visit to the marriage guidance counsellor tomorrow.....the self imposed period of no contact with 'K' (I guess after all this time I really ought to give him a name other that 'ex-lover', My Love and 'db' ~ so you can have his initial!)

My friend asked me among all the other soul searching bits if I remember being happy with hubby in the beginning. Of course I do I replied! "Would you marry 'K'?" came one of the next lines......Yes I said. "So you know him well then???"

And I thought about it a moment....

Yes I do, I know him, after not far off 4 years of contact, hours of conversation, thousands of written words and text messages and precious hours spent together, I know him as well if not better than I knew my husband after 9 months together when we bought our first home and then married him less than a year later!

Another query followed. "Where you as happy with 'K' as you were with hubby at the start?"

And I answered that with a line that is very telling...and I have pondered on much tonight.....
I answered,  Yes I was as happy, they are 2 different things, hubby and I were in a young love, inventing a life, a home, a wedding and babies. 'K' and I were a grown up relationship based on what I love now, who I am now......

And that perhaps says an awful lot.......