Monday 23 April 2012

Because Life's A Puzzle

The final four logo candidates are going everywhere with me. They are my new best buds. They hang out in the changing bag, all laminated and glossy and quivering with graphic potential. They skip out of the bag on demand and flip themselves into the unsuspecting path of any friend or foe and buzz with a 'Pick Me!' kind of vibe. Their backs are adorned in clusters of multi-coloured Post-Its scrawled with reasons why people like or dislike them. They're taking all the criticism very well. I'm impressed by their commitment to the cause. I just hope the winner can handle the giddy heights of success.

I had let loose the very same candidates only two days ago, across a friend's shiny kitchen table. We stood over them, supping coffee, gazing down, discussing the merits of each one as my nearly four-year-old son (Big Tot) and eleven month old baby (Little Tot) dashed in and out between us and a pile of Transformers on the living room floor.

My friend, otherwise known as Auntie Carol to the Tots, or Babysitting Guardian Angel to me, slapped a Post-It on her favourite and offered me another coffee. I was tempted but knew the dinnertime clock was ticking so told Big Tot he had five more minutes to play with Optimus Prime. Not practising Mindfulness very effectively that day, my mind was racing ahead to the usually clumsy event of preparing dinner in the world's smallest kitchen with Little Tot around. He apparently thinks we are the very same being and we must not, at any cost, be more than an inch apart. Whilst I'm told this is a normal stage in his development, it does not mix particularly well with hot pans and whirring ovens.

Auntie Carol suggested a safety gate at the kitchen door might solve the problem. Blooming genius. Why the flip had I not thought of that before? Living in a bungalow I'd kind of written off the whole safety gate thing and, of course, I have many dead brain cells due to producing babies and I am unable to think up such genius plans for myself. Excellent. The next day I would go out and purchase the finest safety gate imaginable and normal standards of catering would resume in my household.

Or maybe not. That night's offering didn't even make it to the plate as I spent pretty much the rest of my day at the Burns Unit with a very distressed and sore-pawed Tot. The poor thing had seen a chance and taken it. For all of five seconds that I was dumping a washing basket in another room, Little Tot had army-crawled his way over to the closed oven door, pulled himself up on it and pressed his little nose up to the hot, hot glass. I've never heard screaming like it. I felt like my heart was going to combust. Luckily it did not and I found the sense to submerge his hands in cold water whist I worked out something resembling a plan. Car. Drive. Hospital. Now.

I'll spare you the details but there was a babysitting rescue team involving the famous Auntie Carol, long waits to see doctors, blister examining, blister popping, blister cleaning and blister bandaging. There was also a huge blistering of my ego which I'm still tending to. As you can imagine.

So now I know his burns are only superficial. And now I know he's capable of eating a custard cream with only his thumbs. Now I feel a little calmer.

So, naturally, there's also now a safety gate in place. A beacon of safety for the home. A white, slatted, metal metaphor for mindful transition between domestic realms.

And quite clearly an outrageous tripping hazard as demonstrated by yours truly sailing through the space between aforementioned bloody safety gate and kitchen unit and crash landing on my left knee resulting in burning pain and huge, bruised, bumpy swelling. Safe? Gate? Grrrr.

Apart from slapping some high-vis tape onto the hilariously named 'step-over' bar on the bottom of the gate, I don't really know what else to do. Nurse my knee a little? Breathe deep? Slow down? Muse on some beautiful philosophical parenting concept?

And that's when I remembered Auntie Carol's Post-It on her favourite logo candidate. And decided to cut myself some slack.





















Go safe, go well,

Abi

Thursday 12 April 2012

Like A Baby

Well, the birthday came and went, as birthdays do, and I am entering the realm of the mid 30s with what I am describing as a mindful acceptance. I'm doing everything mindfully these days, on account of the five-week mindfulness course I've just completed in - of all the places in the world - Consett Industrial Estate.

Actually, it was a marvellous experience teaching me about being in the present moment and developing a more conscious connection with the body. The idea being that if you're focusing on your breath or your posture or the spot on the end of your nose then you're more able to deal with whatever the present moment is throwing at you.

I've dabbled in the whole meditation game before, but I must admit I lost the philosophies somewhere between squeezing two babies out and taking on the mammoth roles of housewife / mum / general superhuman being. So now I can safely say I've reclaimed it. Thanks to a gentle but firm reintroduction, I've rediscovered that by taking care of what's going on right now, I am able to move boldly into the future with compassion, humour and love.

Can't be bad, can it? Even if my friends are tapping their feet as I speak unusually slowly. Even if my husband is wondering why I keep disappearing so I can squeeze a meditation in between sterilising bottles and cooking dinner. The little ones are certainly enjoying it. What with bubble-blowing at bathtime, yoga on the living room rug and proper, from-the-tummy laughter, they've definitely got the best part of the deal.

Maybe this new approach to life is why today's morning business meeting took a grand total of three and a half hours. And why it entailed back-to-back cups of tea and an oil burner on the go. Or maybe it was because it was with possibly the most pleasant graphic designer I've ever met who agreed to come to my house so I didn't have to find a babysitter.

Carrie is her name and she's designing me a logo for my new business. What fun we had. In between (mindfully) changing nappies and using CBeebies iPlayer to within an inch of its life, we whipped up a multitude of possibilities to pitch to mums and dads and pretty much anyone who'd give an honest opinion.

At times the entertaining of the children got a little intense and I'm hoping Carrie understands that I don't usually plant my 10-month old in his highchair with pizza and chips and Tommy & Jerry on widescreen . . . only on the most important of business occasions.

So watch this space. The logo will be revealed in a matter of weeks for all to enjoy. But, please, don't look forward to it too much. Look at what's happening now and like a baby be mindful of each moment. Chew your chips. Swing your legs. Laugh at cartoons.

















Until then, go well.

Abi

You can find Carrie's graphic design work at www.pressfordesign.co.uk
The Mindfulness people are www.livingmindfully.co.uk

Wednesday 4 April 2012

34 Tomorrow

I'll be 34 years old tomorrow. Does that plant me firmly in my mid thirties then?

Is that why my nearly-four-year-old son throws his head back in disbelief when I casually call myself a girl and then practically snorts at me "No Mummy, you're a lady".

Is that why I had to tick a different box on a consumer survey the other day and reluctantly admit I am no longer in the 'Young Person' age bracket?

And is that why I'm here, desperately hugging a mug of hot chocolate with five (yes, five) floating marshmallows and musing over all the things I thought I'd have done by now?

I think we all know the answers to these questions. But how cruel that I can no longer make smudged mascara look cool. How tragic that I am unable to wear ripped jeans without the health visitor raising an eyebrow. And it's not fair that I can't look cool doing Zumba. Who invented this whole ageing business anyway?

But having said all that I'm really quite enjoying getting on a bit. For starters, and let's put the baby-birth hair loss and wobbly belly to one side for a minute, the last four years have given me two fantastic healthy children. They are the result of a heart-stopping romance leading to a happy marriage with my own dark, brooding Mediterranean man. I've had the courage to ditch a career I didn't want any more to boldly be the Mum I've always wanted to be. I've lived in three different countries and therefore met three sets of fabulously gorgeous people. And now, in a bid to tip the balance a little bit more in my favour, I'm starting my own business.

It's all new and exciting right now and whilst it's not exactly top secret, it's not something I'm going to shout about until I'm good to go. So until then you'll just have to be satisfied to know that it's cool and it involves rules of some kind and the antics will be posted right here.

Oh, and I found the inspiration for it during my ever-so-wonderful early thirties. Let's hope the mid-thirties have something to offer too (other than floating marshmallows).





















Go well,
Abi