#One Week - Spring '13 - Park Life (the return)

We left our wobbly bench behind.

Along with memories of soggy sandwiches and browned apple slices.

The wobbly bench was our special bench in our very local park.

By the time the removal fan pulled away from the curb, the wobbly bench no longer wobbled, stapled into resurfaced tarmac with four large nails. It wouldn't budge. Not an inch.

And then we found a new bench.

In a brand new park.



And this new park is a hop and a skip from our new home.

It trumps the old one.

There is a bouncy trampoline. I have tested it. It's adult proof. And big, big slides. And wooden Robinson Crusoe climbing frames. And sand. Lots and lots of sand. Swings. A tunnel. A hammock.

And a wooden seesaw, the seats carved into dragon's heads. A bucket on a solid silver chain for hoisting sand. Lots and lots of sand. A small wooden table and chairs for a teddy bears picnic.

But something has changed.

It's her.

No more games of Piggy and Bunny. Or Mummy Shark and Baby Shark.

"I'm a big girl now."

Always a 'big girl.'

She tears away from me.

"I'm going on the biggest slide." "I'm going on the biggest climbing frame."

"Stop taking pictures of me!"

I love her independence. Her sense of self.

How sometimes she absolutely doesn't need me. She has new playmates now.

She sits and watches the older children swinging and climbing.

I can see it in her eyes, 'one day... one day...'

Six months on, she still address' Younger Dad and I by our first names.

No more 'Mummy'. No more 'Daddy'.

I don't think this is a phase. It's sticking and stuck.

And I kind of don't mind.


This is the first day of the seasonal linky One Week. Over the next five days (Monday till Friday) I'll be posting a photograph(s) and a few words that diarises and distills my experience of spring '13. Take a peep at the details here. You can join in for one, two ... or the full five days. And don't forget to add #oneweek on Twitter, and comment on each others posts...

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#One Week - Winter '13 - Park Life (the wait)

Where's our bench, the wobbly bench?

They've dug it up and tossed it away.

The wobbly bench was our special place, where we ate mini croissants and mango slices, and told stories, and played Piggy (me) and Bunny (Little A).

No more.

They closed our local playground for refurbishment at the beginning of November. Four weeks we were told. But it was still out of bounds beginning of January, covered in soil and lonely looking rides.

So what did we do?

We played outside of the playground of course! In the park itself.

"Mummy shark, look at me, weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

"Baby shark you're going very fast on that scooter." 

"Yes, cos I'm a big girl now."

Round and around she goes.

"Can I take a photo?"

"Stop that mummy shark, I'm scootering."

And the week it snowed, we padded through untouched snow as fine as powder, throwing snow balls, playing chase, as icy flakes landed atop coated shoulders and woolly hats.   

And then one day they came....

Jacketed men who laid down turf, attached new rides, rolled out hot, sticky tarmac, made grassy mounds from the earth that had been dug up, scattered wood chips, planted strange wispy things in the new flower beds that look like floppy spider legs, and....

Returned the park benches.

"Mummy shark look.... there's new swings, and slides, and look, it's daddy car, and baby car, and the seesaw." 

Finally on 15th February, the big mesh barriers were taken away, and our playground reopened.

We tested the benches.

Neither wobble.


This is the first day of the seasonal linky One Week. Over the next five days (Monday till Friday) I'll be posting a photograph(s) and a few words that diarises and distills my experience of winter '13. Take a peep at the details here. You can join in for one, two ... or the full five days. And don't forget to add #oneweek on Twitter, and comment on each others posts...

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#One Week - Autumn '12 - Clearing

When the clocks change I slow down. Or I would like to. Squeezing my foot on the break would be far simpler if I didn't have a toddler on constant acceleration, hiding from monsters, 'ironing' my knickers, whooping atop the double bed.

I find this time of year very symbolic. A client once astutely observed that a tree knows how to be a tree, a flower knows how to be a flower - unfolding, basking in its innate beauty - but us humans? The myriad complexities of the human condition separate us from the cyclical ebb and flow of the natural world. Beneath the worries, the fears, the daily hubbub, the never ending to do lists, lies a forgotten moment that exists in an boundless present. I like to think this soothing balm is nature's gift if we just allow ourselves to stop, look close enough, realign our rhythm.

The leaves are falling and I am reminded that now is the time to prune the dross, simplify my schedule, rebalance my life - to dream of new possibilities as we plunge into darkness. This time of year really is one of death and rebirth. And when I think of it, we begin our lives sheathed in the warm, night time cave of the womb. In the dormant earth, the sodden black soil, behind the decay and rot lies another day, another hope, another promise, a fresh idea.

And so I need to reset the inner clock. Slow down a little. In the frenetic run up to Christmas I would like to blog less (who am I kidding), read more, find some time for yoga, luxuriate in a hot bath or two, enjoy my birthday, eat puddings, nail the plot of my book, spend time in silence, count my blessings...

...and douse myself in gratitude for all the love and support in my life.

Autumn begs me to take a chill pill, put my feet up and reflect upon this year's personal harvest.

It's time to simmer down, and be, be, be instead of do, do, do, if that's possible with a crazy toddler.

Do you mark this time of year?
What are you grateful for?  


This is the fourth day of the seasonal linky One Week. Until Friday, I'll be posting a photograph(s) and a few words that diarises and distills my experience of autumn'12. Take a peep at the details here. You can join in for one, two ... or the full five days. And don't forget to add #oneweek on Twitter, and comment on each others posts...

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#One Week - Autumn '12 - Park Life (or not)

This is our bench. The wobbly bench. The bench Little A and I have shared many a ham sandwich and blueberry muffin picnic on. It sits between two large trees in the playground of our local park. The wobbly bench is a place to relax, to wonder, to dream, it's a rickety station from which to appreciate all the running, chasing, jumping, clamouring, and the very special place where our alter egos - Piggy (me) and Bunny (Little A) - come out to play.

Until a couple of weeks ago, that is, when upon returning to our favourite playground after a brief hiatus - I don't enjoy being coated in damp drizzle - we were greeted by this post apocalyptic sight...

Apart from a lone climbing frame, everything had been excavated, dismantled, removed. The toddler swings. Gone. The big children swings. Gone. The round-a-bout. Gone. The small climbing frame. Gone. Our wobbly bench. Obliterated. All that was left were heaps of upturned tarmac and rubble.

"The swings have gone Piggy."

"I know Bunny."

"Look, the big slide is still there."

"For the moment."

"Are they going to build new ones Piggy?"

"I hope so Bunny. I hope so."

The workmen eyed me with suspicion upon clocking my taking photos of their bombsite.

"Can I ask what you're doing love?" A fluorescent jacketed workman asks taking large strides in earth covered boots towards me.

"Erm, I'm just a mum, I, err, I'm taking pictures for my blog" I reply sheepishly.

"No worries, we sometimes get dodgy types taking pictures."

"Oh, okay. Fine." I'm left wondering why a 'dodgy type' would take a photo of a building site.

The playground is under renovation, which is a good thing, but according to mister workman, a job that was supposed to be completed within a month is now - surprise, surprise - taking longer than originally anticipated. Apparently the council is averse to footing the bill for digging up the tarmac. I just hope we have a new playground by next spring.

In the mean time Little A and I will have to kick leaves in another park.

R.I.P wobbly bench.


This is the first day of the seasonal linky One Week. Over the next five days (Monday till Friday) I'll be posting a photograph(s) and a few words that diarises and distills my experience of autumn '12. Take a peep at the details here. You can join in for one, two ... or the full five days. And don't forget to add #oneweek on Twitter, and comment on each others posts...

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#One Week - Summer '12 - Park Life

This is our bench. The wobbly bench. The bench we've enjoyed many of our summer picnics on, when the weather has held, and the rain-laden clouds haven't indiscreetly shared their bounty. The bench sits between two large trees in the playground of our local park. It's the bench where Piggy (me) and Bunny (Little A) come out to play .....

"Would you like a ham sandwich Bunny?"

"No Piggy."

"Oh."

"Can I have a Frube instead Piggy?"

"I guess so Bunny. Here you go."

"Can I have some crisps too Piggy?"

"Are you going to have any sandwich Bunny?"

"I'll think about it. Can I play now?"

"What about lunch Bunny?"

"I'm all full up Piggy."

"But you've hardly eaten anything."

"Come Piggy (dragging mummy from the bench). Watch me scooter."

<sigh>

I'm rather attached to our wobbly bench. Just a shame I'm not sat on it for longer than five minutes .....

This summer has seen Little A grow in her physical confidence. She was a late walker, preferring to shuffle around on her knees and all fours, until she was nearly seventeen months old. She's over two and a half years old now but has only just mastered running, albeit slowly. With her elbows tucked under her armpits, she comically resembles a little old dear as she canters across the playground tarmac. She isn't skilled at jumping either, taking shy bunny hops as an alternative leap. I see younger children with greater motor skills than hers. There's a nagging worry at the back of my mind that Little A is lagging developmentally. Do I need to be concerned? I keep reminding myself that she was a very early talker, that she's always been physically cautious, and that she will eventually catch up. Nothing is wrong I say to myself. Nothing.

Anyway, to help with her coordination we bought Little A that much desired first scooter. Initially, she was guarded in her endeavours, taking small tentative pushes, but after practise, practise and yet more practise (thank you Younger Dad), she learnt to glide with ease. It's a good thing when you no longer have to schlep the buggy to the park - just the shoulder bag and little person on the scooter.

In turn, with her new scootering credentials, Little A has tackled the municipal climbing frame with sharpened aplomb. "Go away mummy, I can do this on my woone (own)," she orders as she plants each foot and hand assuredly, and climbs up the net ladder. "Look at me mummy, I can balance on this," as I take a fat gulp while she straddles atop the highest slide...

This is the first day of the seasonal linky One Week. Over the next five days (Monday till Friday) I'll be posting a photograph(s) and a few words that diarises and distills my experience of summer '12. Take a peep at the details here. You can join in for one, two ... or the full five days. And don't forget to add #oneweek on Twitter.

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