The change of season is synonymous with change of clothes. Despite having enjoyed the easy-come-easy-go dressing of summer (what did the world do before Havaianas?) I like the shift and the possibility of layers once more. All of the new season's catalogues land on my doormat and I can't help but just have a little look...I am beyond predictable. I almost breath a sigh of relief when I don't adore EVERYTHING I see! I know I will not then be locked in to a justification battle with myself for weeks. Months sometimes. I do virtually all shopping on line, so new season look-books are important. I fit that demographic. I shop at 11pm.
Meanwhile we are back into the Autumnal school term groove, as if we were never away. This is the season of hockey and rugby so I know I will be ferrying to and from matches and standing on the sideline in support. Again I see that participation in sport is not just the competitor themselves, but the parents who make it happen, at all hours. I am fine with this and like nothing better than to watch them play but still, as I look forward to our weekend commitments, I see that the vast majority are theirs and not ours. This is a curious element of parenthood. Your children get older and you feel exonerated from the demands of chasing a toddler every waking hour.
Where you are released from certain responsibilities, others manifest in their place. Now I see that their schedule effectively overrides ours. I know parents who refuse this and with head-strong determination insist that their lives are not impinged by their children's. I get this. I am just not very good at it. No matter how busy I was, holding down a corporate job, I still tried to make the time to see plays and watch sport and take them to training so they might get selected for the team. And now I have more time.... isn't that the whole point? To give them every opportunity? But still, for us, the combination of full-on schools and geographic distance has meant that I have become the chauffeur. It's not uncommon for me to spend well over two hours a day in the car. Madness. We make our choices, for sure, and it kinda feels like a first world problem.
What else?
I wanted one of these, but instead I ordered one of these.
I returned to yoga after the summer hiatus and now everything aches. As in everything. Fitness has left the building (again).
The house build goes on. And on. There may be an end in sight in that this phase (was meant to take 8 weeks, instead took 5 months and counting) may conclude at the end of the month. I know I could be posting pictures to share the joys, but honestly, it's so ugly I can't bear to denigrate this pretty space with the rubble and dust of a building site. When it's all done; then I will share!
My hair is summer blonde. I might stick with this. Then again I might not.
I say I don't want a Campomaggi handmade Italian handbag. But I know I am lying to myself.
I walked this morning along salt marshes that looked like we were from 'Dawson's Creek'. It's awfully pretty this time of year.
