10.28 am ( awake in the night 2pm-3pm then awoke at 7.20am)
Winter has returned the snow is falling outside. Falling gently, a thin covering on the ground. Its quiet and beautiful. The snowdrops and daffodils and primroses are up but the snow falls. The snow falls in ever which direction.
The snow sporadically turns to hail. I have started running. I cannot believe I have started to run. I was better prepared today and had running trainers on but forgot my sports bra, so I found myself having to cup my breasts into my chest, form a hand bra to restrain the bounce. I see now why a sports bra is essential.
The hail hurts. It falls in wild circles around my body, blinds my vision. I follow the edge of the stone wall, so that there is no danger of getting lost. I put my hood up to try and shelter from the hail. The fall is fierce. The hood does not prevent its hurt.
Another morning spent gently coaxing Naoise to school. He had started saying yesterday that he hadn’t wanted to go, that his head hurt, he felt ill. I have no idea what has prompted this resistance to wanting to go. I try to ignore his protestations and encourage him to be brave, and that even if he doesn’t feel like it he just has to go. I have to foster resilience in him. I had awful problems with his elder brother refusing to go to school. I guess I need to talk to the school, see how they can help me out, what they can do to coax him in, this is a collaboration isn’t it?
Sunday was boring. A cleaning and colouring in book day. There is little to say about cleaning and colouring in. The felt tip pen colour is applied neatly to fill in each shape defined by the black line. Naoise likes it to be neat and evenly applied, I help him.
The detergent is squirted onto floor and door and surface of the kitchen and each is scrubbed clean.
Highlights of the boring day, some lego modelling, Naoise drawing a picture of me on the blackboard, Naoise painting my face to make me into a tiger.
Lowlights of the boring day, taking till 2pm to get Naoise dressed and his teeth brushed, eventually getting out to a pub opening and then Naoise wanting to leave after only ten minutes.
Naoise fell over in the playground on Friday, he has a big graze on his arm, it looks so sore. He has an aversion to having cream applied on his skin. So each night Patrick creeps into his bedroom when he is asleep to apply the antiseptic cream to his cuts and sores. He is such a picker of scabs, and his skin is so fair and pale and sensitive, I fear he will be covered in scars if the picking continues. I should cut his finger nails, least then he won’t have the implements to cause himself damage.
How beautiful his skin is, so soft, so tender, so white as the snow.
I find a little picture of me and Syd on my chest of drawers, its always there, but I hold it in my hand. I hold it because my big baby boy is far away.
The picture was taken in the photo booth at Kings Cross Station in 2001. I remember closing the blue nylon curtain, leaning forward to place the money in the coin slot, balancing Syd on my knee, holding him up to the camera, the noise of people moving through the station. Holding him tight to me.
I got the itinerary muddled up, he is up the Eiffel Tower today and then the Louvre and then a river trip down the Seine. I hope that his smile today reaches wider than the Monalisa.