The last day of 2021 has finally arrived. It is time to emerge from the post Christmas fog which has enveloped my household. It is that time of year where we look forward to what is ahead, full of optimism and drive to improve our lives.
Personally, I am rubbish at making resolutions and instead I tend to find myself looking back rather than forward. As a result, I feel that a recap is in order as I have not published anything for some time.
In my last post I wrote about what I needed at that point in the year. You will be pleased to know that Mildred is fixed and MOT’d for another 12 months so that is a win.
In addition, The Valkyries (the rugby team of which I am a proud team member) played their debut match on the 12th December. As I type this I know your all dying to know how it went…in all honesty I cannot remember very much from the match itself. I do know that we lost 15-0 however, I feel that we put up a really good fight against the opposition and, given that the majority of us had never played a match before, the modest score difference achieved is a testament to the commitment, drive, skill and passion that each player brought to the field.
I know that I was one of the starting fifteen at this historic event, I know that the legend that is Mike Tindall tweeted to wish the team good luck, I know that my position was 11 and I also know that I was one of the unlucky players from our team to get injured. A few minutes before the end of the match I performed a tackle which resulted in me twisting my knee and straining my ACL. I was carried off the pitch, by fellow players from the club and comforted by my husband on the sidelines as the final whistle blew without me. I was absolutely gutted, not because of the injury but that I was not allowed to continue playing as were the others who were injured.
A week of nothing other than rest, ice packs and keeping my leg elevated followed. As time passed the tears of frustration were replaced by feelings of embarrassment rather quickly. I did feel humiliated that I had hurt myself and that my team mates had witnessed me in tears both on and off the pitch.
Apparently I had been playing really well, my tackling had been good and I was chosen as the back of the day. Following the match I was contacted by someone at the club to say that after watching the match they had been approached by a local businessman who had requested to sponsor me so I must have done alright on the day.
Training is on hold at the moment due to Christmas and is due to resume in January. I cannot wait to get back on to a pitch with those crazy lovely people that make up my team mates. Who knows, there may even be some new faces to get to know which I find strangely exciting. People, particularly new people generally make me nervous, however, when it comes to new team mates there is an element of reassurance to be found knowing that this is one more person who will be added to a group that combat the loneliness that can overwhelm me, whether they know it or not.
What else has happened this year? We added a new member to our family in the form of a cat to hunt the rats that decided to take up residence in our back garden over the summer. So far, she has not been able to venture outside, mainly due to her age and I am not particularly keen on having a litter of kittens myself. In the new year though I am sure she will be out there working hard. Over the festive season her main aim has been to destroy the Christmas tree by climbing it daily. She has taken up residence underneath and you needed to keep your wits about you just in case you come under attack as she pounces to catch your toes.
This time last year I was full of optimism and hopeful that life would begin to resemble some form of normality. These hopes were quickly dashed with the announcement of further homeschooling. This year I have declared that if the government decide that this needs to happen again I will be jumping on a train to the capital and egging the prime minister’s house.
I do not think I could endure another attempt to educate my children myself only to be informed that they have fallen even further behind upon their return to school, despite my best efforts. My question is how far behind do they need to be before it becomes an impossibility that they will be able to catch up? I don’t really want to find out but there has to be a point where it is unfeasible and, if that point is reached, are there going to be measures for the upcoming generations to ensure that they can make a living like everyone else or will they just be discarded as a lost generation?
I have grown another year older although I do not seem to be any wiser. I wonder at what age that adage becomes a reality.
The children have also grown, the boy is almost as tall as me now. He will be turning nine shortly so I have reached the halfway point where he is my legal responsibility which is both depressing and a relief. Again, I have tried my best and all in all they are both good kids, so I am told. My views are biased but surprisingly not in their favour. That is in no way a reflection on either of them but a result of my own self doubt in my parenting abilities.
What does 2022 hold for me? More of the same for a while I would imagine. School runs hopefully, more writing, more rugby and hopefully injury free matches. That is the hope for me on a personal level. For my children I hope that it will be filled with more love, cuddles and learning. I have a sneaking suspicion that Father Christmas and the magic of Christmas that he provides is on borrowed time in this household.
He was in a lot of trouble this year because unbeknown to us our son had been setting traps to catch him out which resulted in him getting the “wrong presents”, lots of tears Christmas morning from the boy and mixed emotions from me. Upset because we had unknowingly ruined some of the magic of Christmas but also anger at the lack of gratitude that was exhibited.
It makes him sound like a spoilt brat but in reality I think it is genuine confusion on his part. The logic in his thinking seems to be that Santa is all knowing, like God, the Father Christmas he had seen this years was ‘some creep in a beard who has no links to the real Father Christmas’ and while he likes the gifts he receives he doesn’t understand why they aren’t exactly what he asked for. Ok, so he is a spoilt brat but I have no idea how to combat that without destroying his innocence. I’ll keep you posted though once I figure out how to address the situation in a way that will cause the least amount of trauma whilst emphasising the point that he is lucky, despite what he may think. Maybe we should help at a homeless shelter or some other charity. What do you think?
I have a feeling that the upcoming year is going to be a good one. I am committed to a new publishing schedule which will enable me to begin posting regularly again. The original schedule had to change because of my training.
This is a rather random post I know but that’s the story of life. Nothing is guaranteed and we have to adapt as and when necessary. Priorities shift and plans have to be adjusted as needed.
That’s what has happened with this blog so please watch this space. There is so much more to come and whether it is good or bad we can face it together.
Mumma Bear Roars 