So today’s afternoon task (structure of day courtesy of the baby’s nap times…) was to unfollow all teacher-related people / organisations on Twitter. I’d been considering it for a while, and putting it off because 1) unfollowing things on Twitter is more of a faff than it should be, and 2) the idea of removing myself from the edu-twitter world is scary. And sad.

Don’t get me wrong. I am still glad I made the decision to be a stay-at-home mum. Lockdown would have been so much harder if both of us were still working – and I’m getting to be there for every new discovery the kiddo is making. Like his nostrils. And the ability to blow the most disgusting raspberries. (Aside: reader, he walks runs!) But the twitter move seemed to me to be finally admitting I wasn’t going to need to ‘dip my toe in’, or ‘stay engaged’ anymore. Not for at least years. And that was scary. And sad.

I’m slightly ashamed to admit that I still struggle not to say things like ‘oh yeah I’m a stay-at-home mum now, but I taught in a secondary school for X years and oh yeah, before that I worked as…) Reflecting on why, I guess it’s a combination of pride and insecurity. So while the step was scary and sad, I’m hoping it is a step towards combatting the pride and insecurity. Now I’m not saying there is anything wrong with me having been proud of what I did. But I suspect the pride was not wholly because I was ‘making a difference’. For one, I’m still clearly making a difference now; the kiddo is saying words, learning to jump, giggling manically all day long… and yet. And yet.

One of the things I’ve been reflecting on this year is intrinsic versus extrinsic motivations. Despite myself, I am still extrinsically motivated. I crave recognition, praise, admiration – the very things my faith tells me are empty. I know they are empty. They’ve proven themselves, time and time again, to be empty. But my experience in consciously tackling that craving this year has shown me how deeply entangled the lies I’ve learned about how to value myself are with how I actually value myself. ‘My worth is not in what I own’, sing the Gettys. It’s not in what I do, either, or how clever I can prove I am, or how successful I appear. I know that. I know that. And yet.

So I guess the point of this post is to remind me I have reasons to check myself when I feel scared or sad about where I am now, about what I’m doing – or not doing. I have spent a lifetime being reminded that I have potential to fulfil. I’m going to spend a lifetime reminding myself that the life of Christ himself is being fulfilled in me.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been sending off a reflection on the communion hymns we’d chosen for Masses we now cannot participate in. This is this week’s – slightly punchier than the others have been, but I want it here, to remind me.

Holy Week is upon us, and usually the 9am choir are busy with rehearsals – there’s a lot of music coming up, and many of the hymns are only sung once a year! This year, though, everything is different. There will be no palm waving, no little woven crosses to bring home. Come the Triduum there will be no washing of the feet in churches, no stations of the cross in Blackheath, no safety regulation-defying fire at the front of OLSS…and the choir is scattered, rehearsals a prayer and hope for the future.

And yet, everything is the same. On Palm Sunday we will celebrate the arrival of Jesus to Jerusalem as the Son of David. We will hear, or watch, or read the Gospel, laying out the events of the Passion as they happen, participating if not audibly then in our hearts with the crowd, crying ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’ And we will watch in our mind’s eye as the Son of God is crucified, dies and is buried. It is the end of the world as the disciples of Jesus know it – and for some of us today it feels like the end of the world as we know it. But we know, too, that in a week’s time we will be celebrating victory, crying Hallelujah, proclaiming Christ as Lord over sin and death. 

Lauren Daigle’s ‘Love Like This’ reminds us that Christ is and always will be with us, no matter our circumstance, no matter how we feel, and no matter how far we think we may be from God. Some people are uncomfortable about the Christian insistence that we are not worthy of Christ’s sacrifice. They are concerned that this harms self-esteem, adds to ‘Catholic guilt’ (I loathe the term!), detracts from our self-worth. Yet I find the answer to Daigle’s rhetorical question in the refrain is one that comforts, not denigrates. I have done nothing to deserve love like this. And so there is nothing I can do to lose it. In a time where many are anxious about the loss of public Masses, the loss of access to the sacraments, the loss of the ability to practice many of our devotions, the knowledge that Christ is with us, searching for us, and loving us soothes my need to ‘get things right’. In the midst of a world where so many things have gone wrong, Christ has already paid the price; we are already redeemed.

…a month makes. I’ve 3 drafts for this blog that I never got round to publishing, all of very different tones and topics. Life has settled again (for now) though, and none of them are quite right.

In the last 2 weeks the husband, baby boy and I have set off excitedly for 10 days away (our first holiday with just us), found ourselves in hospital for the first 3 of those 10 days due to baby boy having several febrile fits, spent most of our holiday much closer to the hotel room than planned when the husband found himself laid out by a stomach bug…then within 48 hours of returning home, turning around and heading out to Derbyshire to be with Sam’s parents during what we expected to become, as it has done, a lockdown.

Life is quite different from how we expected it to be right now, but we are the lucky ones. All of us appear, for now, to be well and healthy, and Sam’s parents have a comfortable home in the Derbyshire countryside, with a garden big enough for James to mess around in, and a freezer big enough for us not to worry about running out. Everyone is working from home, and there is enough space for everyone who needs one to have their own ‘office’; even I have a little room upstairs, which I’ve set up with my prayer book and candle, and today the clavinova got moved in there too. Baby boy is loving the crowd (the little extrovert…) and the space, and is inching closer to walking on his own. Given the stresses and anxieties many of my friends have, I can do nothing but be grateful for the situation we are currently in.

Having said that, it’s hard to ignore the fact that things are different. Every outing is discussed in terms of minimising contact, and maximising efficiency; we’ve thought about our plans for if one of us falls ill; no one is meeting up with anyone who isn’t part of the household. And, for me, there are no public Masses, no trips to an adoration chapel, no confession. Coming in the middle of Lent, where I traditionally try to recover some of those practices, it’s hard.

The baby wakes, so off I go. The plan is to use this blog to (probably haphazardly and irregularly) write about and reflect on this weird time. Words have always helped me, so here’s hoping they help me now!

(Written Mar 24…didn’t hit publish…)

So, lesson 1: a daily blog is unreasonable. Weekly I can probably commit to.

Lesson 2: Thinking of what to blog that isn’t just a stream of consciousness is pretty tricky. So I’ll be asking for ideas…

Lesson 3: I’m much happier with a bullet journal than without, it turns out. After a year’s hiatus of birthing and keeping alive a baby, I think I’m ready to return to one. And hopefully it helps with the problem in lesson 2.

The last year has been one of a huge amount of learning, for obvious reasons; some learning was predictable: how to change a nappy, how to get nappy contents off not-nappies, etc… Some learning was less so. The one that most surprised me, I think, but perhaps wouldn’t surprise the people who often know me better than I know myself, is how important predictability and order was to me. Which, as anyone who’s had a newborn knows, was tough luck. However, now that he is 1, (and yes, I know predictability is not a natural function of 1 year olds), I am making a concerted effort to bring order back. Partially that’s by making sure he’s entertained (*cough* exhausted *cough*) enough in the mornings to have a decent nap in the afternoon, wherein I try to tidy / read/ iron / write / do laundry / think / cook dinner. This blog is, I think, an attempt to substantiate the bits that often get lost between the tidying, ironing, laundry and cooking… I am not bored, staying at home with the baby, but it can sometimes feel like bits of my brain I quite liked are somewhat floating away.

Which brings me to what I’m reading. Not much, to be honest, and not in any kind of serious way, which I think is part of the reason why everything feels very bitty. So I’m committing to one book at a time (ish), and hopefully one book a month. This month’s read? ‘Mary: The Church at the Source’, by Hans Urs von Balthasar and Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI. Lots of the ‘religious’ books I’ve read recently have been more spiritual than theological, and I kind of want to get back to theology – but don’t want to lose the spiritual altogether. I’m currently contemplating a consecration to Mary, but wanted to shore up my understanding – and therefore relationship – with her before it.

Now I know I said one book at a time, but I’ve also rejoined the Catholic Mothers group in South London (which is genius, by the way – proper conversation and a space for the babies to get into controlled trouble…) and they are currently doing a study of Aquinas for beginners. So there is that, but I’m not counting it as a book, because…it’s a study. Right?

Right.

Baby boy is still asleep, so reading it is! This is still pretty stream of consciousness, but I’m working on it. Ideas / suggestions much welcome!

First, because I miss writing. I miss sitting and thinking and crafting (yes, trickier with a very very active 1 year old but possible if I’m not sat around on facebook). Second, I’d like to have something concrete to do with the things I’ve been reading and listening to, and I’ve always processed best by writing things down. Finally and just as importantly though, I need something to remind myself that baby talk isn’t all I’m capable of anymore…!

Today’s blog though is a bit of a re-introduction for me, so it’s not particularly focused. Currently the kiddo is asleep in the pram, and I am managing a hot latte. This is rare. We get up to many adventures, and this often means he passes out in the pram on our way home, only to wake up to the sound of a cafe door opening. I should manage a nap a day with my laptop though, so here’s hoping.

Scratch that. The kiddo has woken up. He does seem sleepy though, so I’m going to let him be for a while.

What is this blog going to be about? ‘Write what you know’ – Mark Twain, apparently. Still tricky, but currently I’m somewhat consumed by keeping a 1 year old alive and entertained (as far as he is concerned, equally important things), so I’m afraid that’s probably going to be the main theme. I’m also going to be unapologetic about how Catholicism influences that for me. I’ve been listening to lots of podcasts (the easiest media to consume with a napping baby) and have found myself both comforted and infuriated with Catholic media, so I suspect a lot of what I write will be a response to it. And I hope I will also be writing about writing. Or at least crafting writing. One of my intentions this year is to rediscover poetry, both in terms of reading and writing, so if bad poetry offends you perhaps now is the time to look away.

Sleepy baby is no longer sleepy, so this is it for now. Still, we’ve started, which is something. Tomorrow, more.