The Long Walk Home

Dear Mr Smiley.

I’m sitting here on the eve of your birthday pondering the last year, the last year of you in our lives, the crazy year of moving, new jobs, no sleep and you, wonderful you. I had no idea you would enter our lives so smoothly, the comparisons begin right here I’m afraid my lovely son. Your brother’s entrance into the world was so stilted and strange and yours, well yours was the opposite.

It was night, dark and tender, a flat full of soft soft light, me barely believing what my body was capable of, tripped out on gas and air, in my own world in a land beyond the pain. Midwives flapped about trying to get settled, no time for stillness or cups of tea for them. Daddy ensured your brother made it to the arrival of the lovely Jo to whisk him away with little upset, and you and me laboured away. You turned and swam down (clearly Finding Nemo made it through the womb walls..) I groaned and walked and contracted and finally pushed, scared out of my mind that you would get stuck. And then, the unlikely happened. Your head came out and all was still. All was still until the last final effort of my body squeezed out your body. You cried. You were there. You were covered in goo but you were mine. You pooed all over me as your little tiny mouth found it’s food and comfort, naked we cuddled and cuddled until you fell asleep. Peace written all over your unblemished smooth gorgeous perfect face.

It was a labour about you and me, you my gorgeous second born, you my squiggy son and our cuddles over the next few days cemented in our love.

It hasn’t been an easy year after that joyous crazy night of wonder. You didn’t really like being a tiny baby, the boob provided fuel but little else, again entirely the reverse of your brother. You were hungry all night and fed every hour or so, you pooed constantly and cried lots. I spent much time trying to persuade you to sleep in the sling and then put you down, never something you’ve been all that convinced of. A dummy provided some relief as it seemed to soothe you in a way nothing else could and I love cuddling you to sleep.

Then the smiles started and I don’t think you’ve looked back. As soon as you could interact with this crazy world you were plummeted into, you’ve grown in happiness and delight. Smiles make everything better in your book. I love seeing you stare and point at people until they notice and you reward them with a stunner. I love the way you speed crawl into my lap and lay your head in it grinning up at me. I love the gooey smiles you used to give me from the boob when it finally worked in the way you wanted (instant food. now. or I shall cry). (I really thought about giving it up at some points, like when you’d get into a frenzy when milk didn’t appear fast enough and need to sleep again to reset and try again. Like when you stopped for a week when ill and I worried constantly about you. I love that you love food now, I love being less anxious about your feeds.)

Darling boy, you are wonderful, I want you to always know that. Always know that you are loved and valued. However much your brother might lash out at you when he’s frustrated, he loves you dearly. However much I swear at you when you need to sleep on my face to be settled I love you more than I can say. However much Daddy has to leave each morning he loves you to the moon and back and so much more again.

We are so glad you’ve joined our family. For you didn’t turn our world upsidedown, your brother assured that three years ago. You joined a world familiar with sleep deprivation and small people. You got a Mummy who wasn’t achingly confused for the first year of your life but one who was able to enjoy you and delight in the wonder rather than cry at the madness.

I pray so much your delight in people would last and grow strong, that your dogged determination would channel into powerful love for others and commitment in this life. I pray that you would come to know your Maker as your friend and more. I pray that you would be wholehearted in this life, full of compassion and love. I pray that you would draw the outsider in and I pray that you would always, whatever, truly know that you are loved and would be strong and secure in that love. I pray for your protection in this world of ours, so beautiful and so broken and that the struggles you face in this life would not shake you or destroy you but our wonderful Maker would use them to bring good to you and those around you.

Oh my beautiful boy, I can’t wait to see what kind of toddler, preschooler, small boy, teenager and man you will become.

All my love

PS This would be much easier if you didn’t keep interrupting for cuddles to help you sleep. Could you sort it out please?

And sometimes it’s the simple Saturdays spent at home.

The early Autumn sunshine, spiders gleaming webs, early morning banana pancakes. It’s the being together, the blueberry stained faces and clamours for more. It’s the cups of tea, more tea, more tea until the bleary headache of a disturbed night is banished.

It’s bundling out of the house to go swimming, it’s delighted giggles and splashes and laughter. It’s a boy tightly clinging to my neck as new experiences overwhelm. It’s the grace of friends in helping put up blinds, the taste of fresh bread for lunch. It’s the discovery of hallway shoe storage, the potential of bookshelves, the bringing of beauty and order to the chaos of life. It’s sleeping beauties in the back of the car.

It’s muddy boots, wellingtons and rambling through woods, conkers in hand. It’s laughter and coaxing the small boy into enjoyment of the afternoon. It’s wide open fields and loud long echo’s, it’s shouting and laughing and running and falling and running again. It’s tree climbing, stick holding wonder. It’s amazement at holes in the ground, it’s the promise of ice cream to take just one more step. It’s tea and cake and flapping arms for more.

It’s pottering with lego, dinner in the oven, burgers and chips tasting sweet in our mouths, it’s laughter and manic giggles as the boys play together at the end of the day. It’s kisses and baths and it’s warm sleepy bodies tucked into bed.

It’s heading out running over the downs, music playing loud in my ears. It’s finding the rhythm and singing along. It’s enjoying the grace of this place we now live, the pink glowing downs and aching legs. It’s coming home to beauty in blinds, a husband who loves and a glass full of wine. It’s sitting and remembering and loving and delighting in Saturday’s here.

At home.

Peace in my head.

  It’s the chill in the air in the morning. Or maybe the orange haze sunsets over the hills out back. The times I sit and look out of the window in the evening and am surprised by the darkness. 

It’s the slip into routine, still new enough to be enjoyed. It’s the walk to and from nursery with the boys. Chasing shadows. Commenting on the world. Checking if the blackberry bush holds new delights today. 

It’s the watching of the eldest walking a new rhythm in the world. It’s hugs and I love yous as I say goodbye. It’s a warm youngest boy rocked in my arms, snuggling close for sleep. 

It’s glistening spiders webs. Droplets gleaming on grass. A still hot sun cooling all too fast in the evening. It’s lazy taking forever to get there walks to the park. Staring at grasshoppers, searching for more and more blackberries on the way. It’s the last of the sun cream slathered on. 

It’s singing and dancing the crazy hour grumps away. It’s cooking one handed with Mr Overtired and Hungry on the hip. It’s food on the table. It’s slow patient voices helping son1 through the exhaustion that overwhelms him right now. 

It’s early mornings and long nights with a restless child, an aching body by the end of the week. It’s tears and hugs and reassurances as husbandface goes to work again. It’s tea and porridge and naps and showers washing the night away. It’s lion cub bundles from small affectionate boys. 

It’s longing for Saturday pancakes and Sunday eggs, it’s staring exhausted at each other at the end of long days. It’s trying to love each other’s worlds. It’s pushing on through. It’s goodnight kisses and deep weary sleep. 

It’s September. 

Son1 vs the Daleks

This weekend I experienced my first MakerFaire.  For the uninitiated, it’s a space where people come together from all over the maker spectrum, be it arts and crafts, electronics, 3D printing, robot makers and more. They display what they are working on, run workshops to enthuse others and generally everyone gets their geek on to delight in what we can make and what we can get what we make to do. It was a fascinating place.

Son1 loved seeing what was going on, getting to drive remote control cones, hang out with robots, make a tree out of some kind of creative clay, see Daddy being drawn round and a tiny scale drawing appear on a separate piece of paper, getting to play with a 3D printed marble run and stroking the robot unicorn. No place is complete without a robot unicorn.

Husbandface enjoyed talking to all the makers, asking questions, more questions and more questions. I think I could have left him happy there all day talking and talking about all the uber interesting and creative stuff.

Son2 enjoyed waving and pointing and smiling at people.

And I, I enjoyed the vast array of geeks in once place. People really passionate about making cool stuff that may or may not have a use in this world. I loved seeing people come to life when talking about these things. I loved seeing people who make stuff out of other stuff cos it looks pretty or does incredibly intricate things. I especially loved husbandface’s love of talking to random strangers (who does that?) when we chatted to a guy who 3D prints prosthetic limbs for children, apparently the NHS doesn’t give children prosthetic limbs because they grow too much and it’s too expensive. For a relative small cost this guy and others were helping children find new levels of freedom and abilities with these 3D printed limbs. It was incredibly moving and proved to me once more that geeks really do change the world. A fairly good direction to encourage the boys in I think.

Bernard the Robot (clearly inspired by Nobot the Robot :))

Son1 came back and made Bernard the Robot the next day so I think we’ve definitely started that already.

Dear Lord, the sea is so big, and my boy is so small…

And so we are here, the final evening of a lovely 6 weeks of change in routine, of co-parenting fully with the ever lovely husbandface, of home improvements, watching boys grow and change, going on holiday, returning from holiday, seeing friends and generally living life a bit differently. It’s been one of the best since we got married, each year we learn how to give each other the space we need to do the things we love and learn how to enjoy life together as a family. Son1’s scrapbook of the last few weeks tells a story of fun times with friends, visiting amazing gardens, embracing new experiences such as going to the cinema (toddler time rocks at our local cinema), visiting delightful places on holiday and enjoying the family and friends we are hugely blessed with.

At the end of the holiday I feel like I’ve had a holiday, rest has come upon my body, sleep has been increased and my soul has had time to remember it’s Maker. I’ve been musing all holiday on the answer to the question, ‘what do I do?’. My conclusion is: a lot. I live a multi stranded life that is full of boys, friends, writing, directing our small groups at church and more.

Most of my life right now is taken up with loving and caring for the small ones entrusted to my care. It won’t always be this way. Change is slowly afoot as I delve deeper into the world of life with two preschoolers. The short baby year is coming to an end. Son2 is desperate to communicate, follow his older brother everywhere and express all his feelings. A toddler is about to emerge.

Son1 is starting nursery this week, for an afternoon and morning a week he’ll be with people I don’t know that well, having experiences I can’t control or help him through at the time. It’s a scary prospect but it’s also a wonderful prospect. He will encounter other adults who will get to know him and care for him, he’ll carry on learning how to interact with people when I’m not around, hopefully he’ll make new friends and we’ll work through the ups and downs of the whole experience together. I shall start to learn how to advocate for my son when I am not sure what has been going on and grow a relationship with the people who work at the nursery. It’ll be an oh so slow start towards the world of school. I shall get some time with son2 on his own and enjoy some focused time with him.

We will all take up a new routine, enjoy hanging out together, take classes and see our friends. Life carries on with the boys.

I hope to have more mental space to write, to take an evening a week to focus on writing and doing it well. I will be steering this good ship towards half term, supporting the husbandface as he starts his new job in the school he’s been at for a while now. I shall attempt to love him well through the inevitable exhaustion and insane non stop world of term time. I also want to love my church family well, to enable our small groups to flourish and grow.

Most of all I want to be content.

This is a good life but my soul always yearns for more, for a ministry job I can explain and do, for fame and fortune. I don’t often want the ways of sacrifice for my boys, I want easy days, days where I don’t have to have limpets stuck to me or explain for the 100th time why we don’t throw things in the house. I want days where I don’t get cross or frustrated because my almost 3 year old and almost 1 year old act their ages.

This summer I sensed the Maker once more telling me to trust in the sacrifice, to know it is worth it as I seek to lavish love as it has been lavished on me. I long to deeply breathe that air of trust and enjoy this life. I long to taste and see that he is good and that my life is seen by the one who counts.

Your correspondent, launching out into the storms of the year ahead with hope and some growing trust.