Gosh – October.
Does every post I write start with a gasp of surprise at the dashing by of time?
So much has happened in the last few months.
First, I hit 40 – literally, thought fuck you 40, and hit it with a lot of gin. Well – everyone goes on about 40 being a big deal, and how you have to do something big and amazing. You have to have huge party, or go skydiving or something – it becomes a chore.
And then everyone I know who is over 40 – and that’s practically everyone I know – tells you “well, it’s not a big deal, I mean, it’s nothing really, 40, is it, just – you know – 40, a number, nothing to worry about. Not like, you know, 50. I mean, I’m almost 50, and that’s so much bigger than 40.”
And that just sucks the special out of it. You can’t really say anything after that, after being told that really you are making a fuss for no reason.
And then there was the whole issue of who I actually wanted to spend it with. And that’s another 5 dramas in a row. So – I decided to do nothing. I went to a pub, I said I would be there, and anyone who wanted to, or felt obliged to, could turn up, be polite, and leave when they had done enough.
Done, dusted. 40, in the bag.
Secondly, my beautiful little baby, my sweet innocent little lady, my far too young daughter, went to secondary school.
So, wow. What a shock. There’s the mountain of nerves to get over – mine, not hers. Then the mortgage you need for the uniform, and the research into the right bag, hours of negotiating over acceptable shoes (black, leather appearance, sensible enough to suit the school but trainer-ish enough to satisfy the child), practicing the walk for timing and identifying the quickest route . . .
It’s been a mission. Six weeks in and we have a routine – after school hockey on Mondays, after school netball on Tuesdays, lunchtime netball on Wednesdays, lunchtime hockey on Fridays, swimming on Wednesday nights, town with friends after school Fridays, coffee dates on Saturdays and – in between all that – homework.
I never knew she liked sport so much.
Thirdly, Mr G turned 50.
We may just leave that there. He wasn’t overly pleased about it, and since we are still dealing with the ups and downs of depression, there have been more than a few low moments. Still, another day, another bit of fight left in us.
Small victories count
That’s a quarter of the year in one quick summary. And now it’s October. Half term is ahead, we’re clearing out and getting another step further with the decorating of this old house, and we’ve tackled the ‘who’s where at Christmas’ row early, head on, and I think mostly everyone is happy with the result.
Celebrate every small victory – that’s the plan!