Half-term half-wit

Half-term always creeps up on me. I should mark it down in my diary, set an alarm on my smart phone – something (anything) to remind me that it’s coming.

But I don’t.

This time, Ben (yes BEN) reminded me that last week was half-term. I knew it was coming of course, but as is often the case, had forgotten which week I was in. And given I keep forgetting to mark half-term in my diary/phone, I’d committed myself to     quite a lot of work.

Ben offered to look after Rosie – the whole week.

I went off to work, like old times, except this time, Ben was sober. They went out to the park, kicked the football around, played music, drew pictures, built a stair-0-saurus out of blocks. They had fun. And when I got home, he’d made supper.

I guess this was one of Ben’s good weeks. He isn’t always like this, but for whatever reason, he seemed in high spirits, happy to help. He did laundry, cleaned the splashback behind the stove (a thankless task I was working up to, and now don’t need to for the next little while – hurrah!).

I’m not sure where I’m going with all this. Nowhere, I suspect. It’s all part of my attempt to take the present as it comes, and leave the second-guessing to the old me – that angst-ridden rodent turning circles in my past.

Well, not really my past, if I’m honest. It still turns up, every now and then.

Another part of my living in the present thing happened last Friday (the only day I probably really spent with Rosie – properly). I was disappointed when I realised it was an inset day and that half-term was starting a whole day earlier. This meant losing my precious Friday – the only day I have to myself (after I finish doing the groceries, cleaning, etc, that is). Anyway, once I got over that loss – and once I slapped myself for feeling disappointed – I took her out to the Natural History Museum and the Science Museum. It was a day of dinosaurs and playing with magnets. In other words, brilliant.



Saturday was chilled. We spent much of it jumping up and down in the living room to all kinds of tunes. Somehow, the vacuuming and shopping and all the rest of it didn’t matter.

My counsellor says I need to hold on to these moments. And so, I try to impress them in my mind, and hope they don’t dissolve with age and time… or fall prey to the jittery fangs of that rodent of anxiety. Time to put out a few traps.


And this is what we were dancing to.





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