9 March 2013

It's Weekend!

Well I'm glad that week's over.  What a bag of crap.  Nothing major you understand, but a constant stream of grot.

I broke a tooth on Monday night and the bottom fell out of my world.  I'm not just scared of the dentist, I'm phobic.

Bertie Spaniel has been really quite poorly.  On his 5th birthday too.  He drank from a filthy puddle at the park and was terribly sick for a couple of days.

Blondie Son has had an eye infection and Blondie Daughter has been moody and weepy after falling out with one of her best friends.

We have this little Friday tradition in our house.  When D comes home from work, he stands in the hall and shouts

"iiiiiiiit's weekend!!!"

To which we all join in with a "woohoo!!!"

Bless him.  He invariably works for a few hours on a Saturday so he does it to indulge us, his family.  It's our little way of heralding the end of the week, good or bad.

So here we are, Saturday morning, and things are much better.

A kindly dentist sorted me out on Thursday at 2:30pm (seriously, tooth-hurty, you couldn't contrive it) and I didn't die of panic in the black chair after all.

Bertie Spaniel and Blondie Son are back to rude health.

Blondie Daughter has made up with her friend.

We're going to my lovely Sister In Law's tomorrow for a roast lunch to celebrate Mothers' Day.

Now, if the sun would just come out, I'd go so far as to say we're ticketty-boo!

My daughter asked me, not so long ago, if I was blindfolded, could I pick her out of a hundred children.  Absolutely I could, I said.  I could pick her out of a million.  A mother knows the scent and feel of her own child, however old they are.  She seemed quite impressed!  But it's true, isn't it?

To all you ladies lucky enough to be mothers everywhere, have a simply wonderful day tomorrow.  Our babies never stop being our babies but life moves on at such an alarming speed, it's far too easy not to cherish each stage.

 I heard this poem on the radio this week and it moved me deeply ...

The Last Time

The father, reading to his girl
some little tale they always read
is unaware that this may be
the last one that she'll ever need;
she's grown past stories softly read
by daddy sitting on the bed.
The mother with her muddy son,
kicking a football in the park,
cannot sense as they wander home
through chilly, soft-approaching dark;
this was the last time they'd come out
to kick that happy ball about.
How secret, sneaky-soft they come:
those last times when we'll kiss it better,
hold their hand across the road
or lift them up to post a letter.
They pass unmarked, unnoticed; for
we're not so needed any more.
So they abandon fairy tales,
and nursery rhymes that mummy sings
and leave behind soft toys - and us -
and put away their childish things;
a loss so small.  Our loss the greater,
unmissed, unmourned, until years later.

© Lucy Berry



  1. Well now I'm all teary - what an absolutely spot on poem. I suppose we need to look forward to all the new things that take their place and know that we have given them such lovely memories - oh no now I'm even more teary! It does sound like you have had the week from hell surely you deserve an absolutely top one next week - fingers crossed x Jane

  2. What a sweet poem, but I must admit it did make me do a "big lip" sad face. Thanks for sharing, have a great weekend xxxx

  3. Wow my god, that touched me deep and my baby is just 11 months old, but I am yet aware how fast the time flies....anyway it's the life...

    Have a great weekend!!

    Lluisa x

  4. Hope you have a better week next week.
    You broke me with that poem.....my eldest girl lives in Australia,xxx

  5. And now I am in tears. Lovely post, lovely poem. And LOVELY jar cover. Clever you :-)

  6. A very HAPPY MOTHERS DAY to you. It comes a little later to us here downunder.
    Poor you and your tooth. Nothing worse than having phobias, they are so full on. My phobia is vomiting. I've been known to stay at home for weeks when I know there is gastro going around. I'm much better about it now, but for a few years the phobia was so debilitating.
    Why do dogs drink from filthy puddles, have they no sense? Obviously not.
    Next week WILL be better.
    Anne xx

  7. You've made me cry ....

    Lovely poem, we don't notice the last times do we?

    Hope you have a lovely day and always remember 'tomorrow will be better'

    Love Claire xxx

  8. What a wonderful poem Heather, you've brought a tear to my eye! Sorry you've had such a grotty week....I don't much like going to the dentist either! Glad you're feeling better now. Happy Mother's Day for tomorrow :)
    Love Caroline x x x

  9. Beautiful poem gorgeous. Next week will be better. Big hug. Xxx

  10. Glad that your horrid week became a lovely weekend. That poem is spot-on. I don't know where my babies' childhoods went and now the days with my granddaughters are flying by... and when did I get old??!! xx

  11. A lovely post Heather. I can't believe how time flies....wish I could slow it down. It's quite scary seeing my gorgeous girls at uni now!...Love the poem. Hope you have a wonderful Mothering Sunday and that tomorrow is the start of a great new week for you,
    Susan x
    P.S Love your pic!

  12. Hi Heather, your post has made my Mothers day even more lovely! I always enjoy your posts! Ive almost finished my cushion following your last post, indulging in some guilt free hookie happiness on my mothers day! Hopefully i will upload the pictures to my blog later this week, please pop in and take a look!

    I love the little jar cover on the top of this post, could you be tempted to do a tutorial for this?! :0)

    Lisa x

  13. Hi, Oh My... I have a huge lump in my throat!!! That poem is so completely true!!! It's scares me at how quickly time goes by and then one day you open your eyes and they're all grown up!!!

  14. Sorry uou have had a grotty week - hope next week is wonderful to make up for it! Not sure you'll get sunshine though :(

  15. Oh you've made we weepy with that poignant poem. Tho I've always been a bit sad on Mothering Sunday since my Mum died, even though I'm a Mum myself and get wonderfully spoilt.
    Hope this week is grot - free x

  16. Being a mother is an honour and like you, Heather, and all those mothers out there, I am so proud of my children!

    That really sounds like a horrible week. I totally sympathise on the dentist and sick dog front. You must be so chuffed it's all over now.

    Happy week to you.


  17. Glad your grotty week improved. Funny how things seem to happen all at the same time! xx

  18. Thanks for sharing that poem Heather (even if it did make me well up). It's spot on. We just have to accept the changes as they come and embrace what tomorrow brings. But my goodness, I just want to hold on to my babies and keep them close and press "pause" sometimes. Glad it's not just me. And thanks for your lovely, lovely comments on my blog. Have a fab weekend. xx


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