Swim little fishy, swim

Every Sunday afternoon we take Peanut to a swimming lesson. We’ve been taking her for nearly 3 years and after all those lessons, when it was just splashing about and group songs, we’re finally starting to see a return on our investment.

Husband used to go into the pool with her but since New Year she’s had to go in on her own. We thought she’d hate it but it seems to have done her the world of good. Before she wouldn’t put her face in the water or jump in on her own, now she does all of that. We sat proudly poolside applauding her achievements as she smiles the biggest smile back to us, full of pride in herself.

Where she goes for these lessons is a very big, very old, private school on the edge of our town. It reminds us of Hogwarts from the Harry Potter films with its quadrangle, manicured lawns, and ‘tradition for excellence’.

While waiting for husband and Peanut to emerge from the changing rooms, in amongst all the sports team photos dating back 50 years, I noticed a handwritten poem hung quietly on the wall. It read like this:

If you think you're beaten, you are,
If you think you dare not, you don't.
If you'd like to win, but think you can't,
It's almost certain you won't.

If you think you'll lose, you've lost.
For out in the world we find -
Success begins with a person's will,
It's all in the state of mind.

If you think you're outclassed, you are,
You've got to think high to rise.
You’ve got to be sure of yourself,
Before you can win the prize.

Life's battles don't always go,
To the stronger or faster man.
But sooner or later the man who wins,
Is the one who thinks he can.

While we could never entertain the £100,000 fees for Peanut to attend, I could feel today what this money was going to buy. A will to succeed. A will to do well. An attitude towards life perhaps only the very best State schools could instill. Luckily for us the State school Peanut is [fingers crossed] hopefully going to attend is one of the very best, so she should do ok.

Trying too hard

‘You’ll never have that kind of relationship in a world where you’re afraid to take the first step because all you’re seeing are the negative things that might happen ten miles down the road’.

A few weeks ago I posted about how rubbish I am at beginning friendships, and even more rubbish at maintaining them. I am totally rubbish at it.

Partly because I think people won’t like me, find me interesting or find me good to be around. So instead of waiting to be rejected, more often than not I don’t put myself in a position where I could be.

Similar feelings of paranoia crept into my head today. The same friend I so enjoyed spending the afternoon with a few weeks back came round to my house today. It was her first ever visit in the two-plus years I’ve known her so I felt a bit like I was revealing my whole self.

I was totally looking forward to her visit, though with slight trepidation as our house was not just untidy, but downright filthy!

In preparation, I scrubbed the mould in our bathroom with bleach to try to make it disappear and tidied everywhere else to within an inch of its life. Partly because it just needed it anyway, partly to make sure my friend didn’t run a mile.

While my house is very white, it is quite used to having all sorts of crap spilled over it and being completely messy. So while all my efforts today may have presented its ‘best side’ to the world, I fear I may have overdone it slightly.

I hope my best intentions didn’t make her feel uncomfortable, if they did I can only apologise. I just wanted her to like my house and not think I’m dirty and disorganised.

Why do I beat myself up like this? Why do I think too much? Why do I try too hard? If my other recent post is anything to go by, hopefully she didn’t mind what my very small, very inadequate dwelling is like. I also hope my fondness for ‘pretty things’ didn’t make me look like a superficial idiot.

My friend rocks, I just hope she had a nice time. Next time I promise to listen to her full back-story, talk a lot less and not tidy up as much.

Beating ourselves up

Two things today made me think about how nothing on the outside really matters; all the false perfection and being on our best behaviour so we feel accepted, doesn't really matter at all.

First, was a comment I received from lattemommy on my previous post. About how she was busy getting her house ship-shape for her open day today. It made me think how we all de-personalise our homes when we want to sell, to present a sense of false perfection so someone will be enticed to buy.

Second, was when we were at a birthday party this afternoon, at the house of one of my mummy friends. No one had visited her house before so we were given a guided tour; we all gasped in envy at its enormity and newly built perfection. To her though, endearingly, she could only see how it was unfinished. She busily showed us the fabric for the curtains she was going to have, and the drawings for the fitted furniture she had on order. But you know what? As much as I would be exactly the same, when I was at her house it absolutely didn’t matter. I wouldn’t blink an eye if they were sitting on deckchairs and eating from a cool box. I like her family regardless of all that show stuff. Don’t get me wrong, if her house were rat infested I’d think twice about our friendship but aesthetic stuff just didn’t matter at all.

Which is hilariously hypocritical of me considering how much it matters in my own head. About the state of our house and how much I worry what people will think of mine. Will they notice how crappy my bathroom is? Will they notice there’s enough mould in there to cultivate a new species? Will they notice all the things I think are wrong, that are less than perfect, which need to be upgraded? Will they notice the coving in our hall that was never quite finished? I doubt it. And if they did, I hope they don’t care and realise we’re just doing the best we can.

That’s the thing you see, why do we go through life beating ourselves up about all the things we’re supposed to have and all the perfection we’re trying to present to the world? Why don’t we acknowledge our imperfections, instead of comparing ourselves to others and always coming out second? Why don’t we ever give ourselves a break, accept we are what we are. Accept that those who give a damn about us, well, they just won’t give a damn about any of that ‘stuff’.

Fear factor

Two nice things happened to me today.

First, Peanut and I spent the afternoon at a friend’s house. She’s the mum of a couple of children at nursery with Peanut and she’s lovely. We’re very similar sometimes and I think that’s how we came to be friends in the first place.

Second, I’ve been home alone this evening and have just finished watching one of my favourite films for the first time in years: Good Will Hunting. Not only is Matt Damon cute and vulnerable, but also the dialogue is just lovely. I am total sucker for some of the monologues in this film.

Here are two of my favourite quotes:

‘You’ll never have that kind of relationship in a world where you’re afraid to take the first step because all you’re seeing are the negative things that might happen ten miles down the road.’

‘He pushes people away before they have the chance to leave him. And for twenty years he’s been alone because of that.’

I think the reason I like the dialogue is because of how I relate to it. For as long as I can remember I’ve felt alone, even in a room full of people [sometimes more so in a room full of people]. I don’t know if it began as a conscious choice or if it’s just how I turned out.

I remember being completely shy as a little girl and I think I only ‘grew out of it’ when I started work - an environment where you have to get over it and talk to people or you get nowhere. Underneath my work bravado though remains the same shy little girl. The girl, safe in her own company, who spent hours alone in her room writing about the life she hoped for when she grew up.

While I will now talk to anybody, I still believe people tolerate me rather than want to be with me. That people will move on and leave me. That if I dare to open up, I’ll be let down. Will Hunting refers to it as attachment disorder and fear of abandonment. Maybe that’s true but I like to think underneath it all I’m just a girl who wants to be accepted.

That’s why today was nice. I finally dared to ask someone if they wanted me to visit and they did. I enjoyed having someone to listen to my rambling hopes and dreams and I hope I can equally be there for them.

If I achieve nothing else in 2008 [well, apart from conceiving Baby Number 2] I hope I finally grow up and take care of my friendships.

What goes around comes around

Where I sit at work has a direct view into the glass-walled CEO’s office, and today I witnessed a guy being sacked and escorted from the premises through those very glass walls.

It was exciting to watch, yet also unnerving. If you work somewhere for long enough your colleagues become good friends and the respect you have for being paid to perform a job slowly ebbs away.

Watching the drama unfold today raised my fear of not pleasing people: I would hate to be publicly humiliated like that, I would also hate to do something so wrong it caused me to be perceived a failure.

Silly, silly boy. As my grandmother used to say ‘be sure your sins will find you out'.

Based on my own experiences last year, they sure will, but I’ll save that story for another day.

Into the unknown I go

I once read somewhere that ‘life is a blank page and each person holds the pen to write their own story.’ Having found an old scrap of paper on which I'd made a note of this I decided today was a good day to kick off my blog, a good day to start to write my own story.

I've been thinking of doing this for a while but that's one of my issues really, I do far too much thinking and far too little doing. So, today, I'm being brave.

My life isn't particularly sordid, hardly at all seeing as I'm married with a little girl, but I hope you enjoy the trivial twists and turns anyhow.

I'm starting this blog for myself: I know I could be heckled but hopefully not so much. I'm not doing this under any grand delusions of success, merely to discipline myself to write regularly and hopefully improve. I used to write all the time when I was fresh out of school and I just want to see if I'm still any good at it.

Like I said at the beginning, into the unknown I go...yikes.