I promised last week that I would cheer up this week. It’s nicer for you, it’s nicer for me, and it’s nice to think about nice things once in a while. After all, I’ve been doing some great things lately that I haven’t blogged about but have been such nice out of the ordinary additions to my life – made better by being bathed in sunshine – that they’re precisely the kind of thing I probably should be blogging about.
I spent so long not being able to shake off a little grey raincloud that had been following me round that it’s been well over a month since I went to see Billy Joel and didn’t even mention it, despite it being absolutely wonderful. I’ve decided I’d like to start an occasional feature in my Entertainment section on the blog about old music called Digging in the Crates and that’d be a good place to talk about how I grew to love Billy Joel – and it was nothing to do with Uptown Girl despite what you might think!
We have had days out at Bourton on the Water and New Brighton in beautiful summer sunshine and I’ve taken loads of pictures to put in Spaghetti Legs’ photo album/scrap book at some point. I’ve never been at all organised with photographs but recently I’ve realised how much I’d like to collate them for him; I found out that he can’t remember many of the things that I’ve done with him, the places I’ve taken him, and the fun we’ve had together. Having dropped two consecutive iPhones down the toilet without backing them up, it turns out that without evidence, he has no way of knowing that I tried so hard to be a good mum even when I was ill or exhausted.
Most of what I remember from when I was little was spending time with my Dad. Maybe we genuinely did more interesting stuff together whereas my Mum was always keeping a half-eye on the cooker or the other kids. Maybe I didn’t spend more time with my Dad but it stood out more. I don’t know. Either way, I don’t want my son to grow up and think we never did anything together. It doesn’t have to be expensive stuff either, or fancy stuff. Just stuff. I’m going to write notes in the albums too, to add context. Nobody ever takes pictures of me and him together, so I’ll have to prove that I was there somehow.
In the sunshine he’s turned a beautiful golden colour. He’s growing sunflowers. Every day he asks if his cousins can come round to use the paddling pool with him, and nearly every day I have to disappoint them. He loves barbecues and ice cream and loved Jordan Pickford in the World Cup. It’s been a lovely summer for him so far, and this week it’s the end of an era. He’s had nursery school sports day followed by an invitation to watch his new primary school sports day. He was even invited to take part in a preschool race and surprised me how he was the first one to line up and not shy at all. As he turns golden he grows taller and leaner. He grows like a sunflower in the sunshine. His legs are more spaghetti like than ever and he is now a fully fledged boy; no longer my baby. I cry a lot these days, when he’s not looking, but it’s more of a ‘happy-sad’ – the description we use for crying at Disney films and baby photos. If I could have him all over again, I would.
Until next time, enjoy the sunshine.