This weekend was a simple affair – walks; cycle rides, a little toddler rugby and unexpected time with all three of us as a family.
The big boy was supposed to be working but last minute changes meant he was at home instead. Lovely. Well I say lovely now but at the time I felt a little annoyed his plans meant mine would change.
I was also annoyed there was some paint peeling in the bathroom, totally pissed off our bathroom sink tap wasn’t working properly and basically huffing and moaning my way through Thursday. I did get my period Friday so that explains some of the ridiculous angst but still, come on I was a whinging old cow until I decided to snap out of it and stop sweating the small stuff.
For someone who likes to worry continuously about most things not sweating the small stuff is like asking a toddler not to overreact when you ask him to remove his rucksack – a little specific I know but you get the gist. I made a conscious effort to stop whinging about things that really don’t matter. Never will I lie on my death bed filled with sorrow for the lost moment I could have retouched the bathroom paint. Never will I wish I’d nagged Jonathan more or hurried Arthur up because I needed to do something.
That’s the full stop that counts. Never ever will I wish I’d made him walk faster or talk less. I don’t want to read books to him a little quicker than I should because my mind’s on hoovering – that’s shameful. It might be a little clichéd but hell, I’m up for a bit of soul-searching mind clearing cliché if it does my family some good.
So this weekend I did tell myself to shut up and I gritted my teeth when the house looked like an incompetent toy burglar had ransacked the house. Maybe because I was whinging less, miraculously Jonathan retouched the paint in the bathroom and never even mentioned it once.
Arthur’s favourite thing at the moment is to strip off and dance in the nude to Pharrell’s ‘Happy’. It’s bloody hilarious and instead of letting him do it for a while then worrying he was cold or might need a wee I just left him. Eventually, after laughing himself silly he stopped, got dressed and came and sat on my lap. Tantrum avoided too. His happiness is not wrapped up in social expectation or served with a side order if middle-class guilt. It’s as it is, plain and joyous and devoid of all life stuff. To capture and remember it just for a few moments is a tonic – one I’ve overlooked too many times.
I always have a Sunday list of house things I need to do, including soul-sucking things like washing, ironing, fridge cleaning – or this week’s particular gem. ‘remove mould from shower grouting’. So from now on, I’ll do these things when I can. I won’t turn into a whinging old hag on a Friday when things and plans change and I will make moments count.
If it’s a toss up between nude dancing and mould cleaning I know what I’ll be doing from now on!