Living vicariously

I feel something of a Charlatan among the school mums at the moment, and it’s not just my taste in music. Jonah’s friends’ mums have all disappeared from the playground, their ten-year-olds leaving school and hanging out in the park largely, these days unsupervised. Some are even taking buses and crossing busy roads on their own to take themselves to their after school activities. It’s definitely high time to let go. Being the one left hanging around is, in some ways, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. I feel judged, perhaps mainly by myself.

The mums of Ava’s friends invariably haves smaller child to justify their existence in the playpark. I just have Jonny, our pug – and he’s not really supposed to be there. Most mums of children my kids’ ages are, by and large, at work, and the few who are there to pick their kids up after school have been lucky enough to arrange their work to enable them to do this . But for all I feel a bit guilty, and a lot redundant for being home this year, I can’t help but feel that  mums who may have stayed at home in the early days, only to go back to work when things got easier may actually be missing out on a golden period of their children’s lives – one where, as an adult you get to relive your own childhood.

Not least, the time spent with my children now is often so much more pleasurable than it was they were when they were younger. But I’ve also been able to indulge my own latent and long languishing interests I had at seven and ten. And if it weren’t so stressful wondering what I will do with the rest of my life (though I’ve not been idle- I have a fair few irons in the fire), I wouldn’t miss this time for the world.

I mentioned in my Easter a holiday roundup that I’d spent the final week of it taking Ava on a “learn to skate” course at Lee Valley Skating Rink, an experience where she did me proud, despite  Bambi legs and 10th centile coordination, by ending the week not just staying upright, but skating fluently backwards and even jumping on the ice – feats I didn’t myself achieve till last week either. 

  
Our joint turns on the public session after the lesson resulted in me being able to pirouette, almost; but certainly vastly improve – with a bit of Ava’s instruction – on my own ten-year-old abilities.And it was bonding, for all Ava threw daily hissy fits about her boots not being tight enough (except for the fact  they were cutting off her circulation enough to give her blisters). But it was nice to find something to do together we both enjoy, especially since, as she’s getting older, I realise how dissimilar we are in so many other respects.

Jonah, who is so much more like me in temperament, has also been discovering a more creative side with which I can identify, from taking the lead in his school play, or taking part in acting lessons with his agency Bruce & Brown, as well as going on his first castings over the holidays. It is an exciting time for him as well as a relief for me that he is broadening his interests, and taking on new challenges. Whether or not this is an avenue he will go on to pursue in any great depth is probably more down to luck and opportunity as determination is probably for the best. A burning desire for stardom is probably not healthy in any child – and worse still when it is performed vicariously by the parents, but it’s nice to see him blossom through learning new skills – whether that’s sitting patiently for his turn (up to two hours in some cases), or talking and even performing in front of complete strangers – he may not be a natural, but I’m super proud of him for giving it a go.

With finances not so flush at the moment, partly due to my current state of joblessness, and also our intention to buy a holiday rental, this holiday may not have been exotic, but it certainly enabled us to appreciate how lucky we are to have so much great stuff on our doorsteps.

Next to the skating rink, as I knew from my days living in Clapton when it still  felt like the ghetto, the Lee Valley Horse Riding Centre was always an oasis of countryside, situated just off the Walthamstow Marshes in an area known till recently as being the epitome of urban grit – no longer, as I discovered from our walks aroudn the marshes, where trolleys no longer reside in water bodies (or bodies for that matter) and the playground in Springfield park is considerably sprucer than it once was. I’d gone there with Ava to kill time between skating sessions, finding amid the usual mother-daughter divide, a shared respect for four-legged beasts, an interest which had acted as solace in my own somewhat disrupted childhood.

Even though it’s not a cheap pastime, I determined she would have the opportunity to ride that wasn’t always possible, amid my split home, for me. On a whim, I booked her onto the Learn to Ride course with what may have been the last 170 quid of my severance package. I may not be earning much at the moment, but at least now, I have the time to take her. And take her I did.  Though, after half an hour of watching her lead walk and trot, I started to write this blog on my phone, jealously wishing I had the spare cash to treat myself to some private lessons of my own , but at £40 a pop, it seems an extravagance too far. But at least it buys me some quiet time for writing.

  
The battle, then, between work and life, and money and wellbeing is a balance I am yet to strike, but with plans afoot come September, I at least intend to enjoy this last summer of their childhood, and in some way, relive the best of my own.