Too. Much. News. Is anyone else spiralling with just too much news?
The Royal Press Office trying to distract us from Prince Andrew’s situation by showing us bonnie photos of Kate turning 40.
Boris is throwing out insincere apologies like sweeties.
Booster and covid statistics, graphs and figures and charts.
What percentage of Scots have had their jabs? How many people have died within 28 days of a covid diagnosis in Scotland and can we get back into France or not?
And on it goes…
Then we have the whole of Serbia throwing about adjectives like ‘scandalous’ regards the treatment of Djovokic and his Australian visa saga.
Am I really the only one sitting here saying ‘no more please’?
It’s enough to make me turn on ‘Call the Midwife’ so I can sob my heart out over the plight of some wee baby just to give me some light relief.
A Caramel Bunny app might help
Maybe I should develop an app using the Cadbury Caramel bunny to say every 15 minutes ‘hey, you’re doing fine, you can unclench your jaw’.
Even Tuesdays feel too ‘Mondayish’ now, promoting them to one of the most terrifying days.
Tuesday with Sunday ‘scaries’ times a billion all added to the pre-existing January jitters.
I heard someone on a podcast say they feel like they’re constantly worrying about the next part of their life without realising they’re right in the middle of what they used to look forward to.
And I FELT that in my bones.
It’s not just me is it?
I get the impression most folks are weary, not just me.
Either from all the recent festivities now past or clawing back some routine OR from trying to convince everyone all our lives are back on track.
Not just back on track, but back on track with vim and vigour.
I can’t fake my feelings or force myself to feel something I’m not.
I can’t fake my tone, me energy (or lack thereof) OR my body language. They’re all real and brutally direct.
I refuse to rush the process and am attempting to slovenly ease into 2022 just hoping to find my feet before February smacks me square between the eyes.
First things first, let’s get biggest back to university for her next semester.
Himself took her without so much as a backward glance from her. For a while there I had more chance of visiting Narnia than reaching the bottom of the washing pile.
I had some fun messing with her while she was home, like hiding her stuff where she’d never find it. I hung her coat in the cupboard and put car keys on the hook.
I’m a riot, I know. Thankfully I’ve accepted the kids don’t need a ‘perfect’ Mum, just a happy one.
Big kids need mothering too
And if they tidied their rooms, they’d have one sooner. I have been truly humbled as a mother, countless times, but watching my kids using impeccable quick-witted sarcasm at precisely the right moment brings particular pride.
Even so, I occasionally forget our big kids need our attention almost as much as they did when they were smaller.
I take them cups of tea. Make their favourite dinner. Watch their favourite movies or spend time with them just listening.
It reminds them they’re important and never alone, we are always here for them even if just for a hug, a kiss on the forehead or a toasted cheese sandwich cut into triangles.
Biggest is now back to her city living nocturnal hours meanwhile the older I get, the earlier it feels late.
Himself said I looked tired and asked why I was awake at 3am.
Now, about those apps…
He laughed when I told him I was awake thinking about something that had been on my to do list for months and I came back to bed once I’d finished it.
It literally took me all of five minutes.
So, from here on, I’m going to Identify what I enjoy spending time on and do more of it.
Starting with my Apps. Number one, Cadbury Caramel Bunny jaw clenching.
Number two, to ease my grief over the global loss of Betty White (I’m writing this on what would have been her 100th birthday), an app for 40+ year old women looking for similarly aged woman who want to make like the Golden Girls for the rest of our lives.
Who’s with me?
