Seasons of Joy {September 2022 Edition}

Back to School. Now I’m back to school I am finding I have less and less time on my hands. Even blogging daily is a stretch. I’m managing but it’s hard. Having decided to take a year off from my master’s I thought I could use all the master’s study time to devote to my blog…this does not seem to be working out. In fact, I’m not entirely sure how I managed to study last year…

Treasures. I thought I’d show you a couple a charity shop buys from the last few weeks (shown in the photo above). The first is a rather cute and very unusual doll, which came in the most gorgeous presentation box. The other was a twisted wooden heart which hangs from the same material as I use around the house. So cute! I’ve got the doll on our mantle piece and the heart hanging from my wardrobe door.

My New Sewing Box. Over the summer I had been chatting to Charlotte, bemoaning the death of my very old sewing box. Gary had fixed it so many times there was now no means to continue doing so. I loved my sewing box. It was small but covered in the most gorgeous red and blue material. I loved it! But, having had it since before the children were born, it had seen better days, and with the lid hanging off at an alarming angle, it was time for a new one.

Charlotte, who frequents the antique shop at the bottom of our road like it was her second home, had seen an old sewing box she thought I might like. Honestly, she is so thoughtful ❤️. She gifted me with it the very next day. Isn’t it beautiful? And better still, it’s about four times the size of my old one.

Home-making. This past month I have given the hallway up and downstairs the first coat of paint, with the goal of doing a second coat at some point…but that elusive time seems ever more elusive, disappearing to within the confines of homeschooling and homeschool planning.

I have however made some advances in the home organisation department (yes, the italics are entirely necessary on account of the fact that ‘Claire organisation’ looks nothing like normal people’s organisation 😬).

I have been buying a jar a week for ages, and today I got to organise seven of them in our hot drink making shelf:

It may look like nothing massive to you, but believe me when I say that previously this shelf had been the bane of everyone’s life. There were all types of teas, falling over each other in the race to be the first to fall out of the cupboard just as soon as an unsuspecting human opened the door.

They are now all contained within their own jar.

Letting Go. Does anyone else struggle with letting their adult children, well, adult? Mine are coming up 21 and 20. I have had no problem letting go of Thomas. Maybe because he is a boy, or perhaps because he lives independently and is managing his life very well, thank you very much. Although I personally think it is because he has been 45 for most of his life and therefore he probably felt he was the one letting go rather than me (ongoing joke about how he always feels more mature than me…😂).

The girls are different matter. I know I have to. And I am trying really really hard. But we are so close, and the idea we might not be one day tears my heart in two. When Lillie returned, we were all excited because the three musketeers were together again (the twins’ nickname for the three of us). And it has been amazing to spend time with them both. However, Charlotte has learnt to manage without Lillie. In fact, she has blossomed over the past three months. Likewise, Lillie has learnt what it feels like not to be her sister’s carer, and enjoys the freedom she now feels just being her. They were both a bit concerned about Lillie coming home, and rightly so.

My twins have grown up…apart from each other.

We all know this is healthy. It is right and proper they have a life separate from each other. But with change comes the smallest amount of mourning for what has gone before.

The dynamics have changed. And so must I 😢

I haven’t decided where I’m going to keep it, or what I’m going to keep in it yet. Yes, I know it is a sewing box, but I might not use it as one. I may use it to store arts and crafts…or crochet…or photography gear…be still my beating heart! It is the most versatile of boxes ❤️

Being Brave. Menopause sucks! Really it does. I am usually a fairly emotionally stable (albeit easily excitable) very even tempered woman. Menopause is turning me into a blubbering idiot! Worse still, I seem to have absolutely no control over those pesky tears.

Take Wednesday for example. My incredibly talented and lovely friend Leah runs a choir. We had the pleasure of watching one of their concerts and everyone looked like they were having so much fun…well, I wanted some of that!

I can’t sing a note. Well, I can, but it is invariably the wrong one. No matter.

Gary and I decided to join!

Only, the idea of socialising is always much more appealing than the reality of gathering enough courage to actually socialise. I am hugely introverted, so joining a choir was an unusual desire for me. And given my tuning inadequacies, well, let’s just say Gary wasn’t convinced I would actually, y’know, go. And to be honest, I didn’t know I would be going until 3 1/2 minutes before we left.

Gary had had a bath and was dressed in his pjs convinced he would be spending a quiet night in. I was sat next to him, furiously tapping away at my computer. To be fair, I didn’t look like I was heading out any time soon. Suddenly, with the determination of a woman who knew that it needed to be now or never, I jumped up, announced that I was off to choir, and that Gary needed to put on some clothes if he wanted to come with me!

My long-suffering husband did as he was told, and consequently ten minutes later we were in the church ready to sing. Only I wasn’t. I was barely holding it together. Tears were streaming down my face (which try as I might, I had no control over). I’m certain every single person (and there were about forty of them) was staring at me, wondering why they had a blubbering forty something woman in their midst.

As I said, Leah is amazing and we were soon warming up with our arms and legs and head flailing about in the air, whilst I wondered if it was indeed a choir I had joined or an aerobics class! After much hilarity we did begin to sing, my tears of yester-hour forgotten as I enthusiastically (and not a little bit tunelessly) joined in!