Sunday 1 May 2011

That end of holiday feeling

Well, here I am.  I'm sitting here in front of the computer and I haven't got a clue what I'm going to say to you;  that in itself is not particularly unusual, since I quite often witter away without much purpose, but I haven't really thought out what I want to say. I think I'm here for a moan. 

Yes, that's it.


I'm not feeling great. I've got a headache, my sinuses are feeling narky and my joints ache, particularly my hands.  I've just taken two painkillers that were lying next to my computer with a cup of coffee.  The problem here is that I got out the tablets a few hours ago and then forgot to take them and now I feel worse I can't remember if they were paracetamol or ibuprofen and so I can't risk taking any more for four hours in case I overdose and end up being carted off to A&E in an ambulance and everyone thinks that it's all been too much for me... or not. Any clues?  Because I know you were looking when I got them out of the packet earlier.

You know what it is?  Two things:

1.     I think I'm getting a cold.

2.     Tomorrow is a Bank Holiday and after that the children are back to school and Bryan is back to London and the holiday is over.  

These things are making me feel sorry for myself.  It's been lovely having Bryan at home for nearly two weeks; and so much has happened in the last fortnight.  We've had joy on Palm Sunday and silence on Maundy Thursday and sadness on Good Friday and awe on Easter Day. We've had hospital appointments, launched rockets, slept late and watched a royal wedding. My brother and sister in law have visited, Bryan's sister in law and nephew have visited, we've been to parties and barbecues, we've toasted marshmallows, ingested greenfly, been swimming, bounced on bouncy castles and laughed and played. We've been out with friends, visited Chatsworth, the National Space Centre and Crich Tramway Museum, ridden bikes, crashed into trees, paddled and sunbathed, had picnics and gone for walks and redesigned a bit of the garden. Planted plants and sown seeds. We've eaten far too much and been a smidge more liberal than usual regarding bottles of wine.  All this and then... the diet starts again on Tuesday and the wine will once again be banished until the weekend. 

Sigh.

I'm psyching myself up for being on my own again; well, not really on my own as my Mum is here and she helps me loads, but it feels a bit alone sometimes when the children are shouting in the night or I'm taking Katy to see yet another doctor about her lump.  I suppose I'm not on my own at all as I know that you are with me - you never leave me.  But you know what I mean, don't you?  You don't get up in the night to chase away bad dreams or find a lost Barney, do you?  Oh alright then. I suppose that's a bit unfair.  

I'm not complaining, honestly. I like my life and I know how fortunate I am to have a wonderful family and friends, a husband with a job and healthy children. I know.  I just feel a bit sad that we've had two lovely weeks enjoying being all together and now it's nearly done. Back to the hamster wheel on Tuesday getting up far too early, packing Bryan off for his train and shoehorning the kids into clothes/shoes/breakfast/car before running about with this and that until it's time to pick them up again.  

So cheer me up, then. 

(At that point Bryan walked into the kitchen, reached into the cupboard and produced a packet of Pringles which he then flourished while informing me that a single Pringle is a perfect example of a hyperbolic paraboloid.  Since he then walked off with the Pringles makes me think that this was not a heaven sent cheer up message). 

I'm going to put the kettle on. 

Oh Lord, sometimes I just feel a bit miserable even though it's been a Good Day with blue sky and sunshine.  Church this morning was fine; I know that you were there and watching baptisms always makes me happy.  The building was full and even though I suspect there were more than a few members of the baptism party that were less than comfortable in a church environment, it was great to see all the seats with people in them.  If only it was always like that and at the same time every heart was lifted to you.  We'd have to organise more services to accommodate everyone.  Our church centre would be full of people on a Sunday and all week.  We'd have such ideas, such energy, such commitment. The whole area would know that our church was a place blessed by you and they'd all want to be part of it. 

Let it be, Lord Jesus.  In fact, I'm only just starting.  So many things on my Wish List.  Please heal the lump on Katy's neck.  Take it away; let it just disappear or give the doctors skill and sensitivity to treat it.  Find Bryan a job that means he can be here each evening and morning, so that he doesn't miss the children growing up. Soften the hearts of members of my family who don't know you so that they might not be lost in this world or the next.  Give my girls confidence and security, knowing that they are unique and special.  Bless them with good friends.  Show me what you want me to do with my life.  And indicate to me in some way whether the pills I just took were paracetamol or ibuprofen so I can take the other ones and perk up a bit for this evening. 

Oh well, no good wasting the last day of our holiday being miserable. Tomorrow's a day for finishing a few projects that were started with gusto a fortnight ago and then tailed off because of the necessity for hard work to get them finished.  I might have a bath tonight with a snifter of something and my book for half an hour and then I'll be right as rain. 

Here's what I'm going to do:

I will appreciate the things I have and stop dwelling on the things I don't.  I will try to see the cup as half full instead of half empty.  I will cherish the time my family are together and not bemoan the time we are apart. I will thank you for your many blessings and try not to instruct you on the things that I perceive you have not granted me. Yet. I will look for you in the everyday and try to hear you in the commonplace rather than keep my eyes shut and complain that you are not there. I know that you are my Heavenly Father and there's possibly a time and place for telling your beloved daughter to pull herself together. 

Alright then. you've probably got a point. 

Bath, wine, early night. See you tomorrow.


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