Smile.

A friend of mine has recently started a public blog and I have to say it is beautiful.  Uplifting, wise, encouraging and insightful.   Polar opposite to this infact,  and so it is that I feel the time has come for a little positivity, and luckily this has been just the week to herald it.

So yes, this Wednesday brought us riches in the Euro-Millions lottery, a pioneering face transplant for myself, (which has taken wonderfully although I'm not convinced Natalie Portman is overjoyed at the outcome of the exchange) and a complete brain reprogramming for Chris and the children.  Who wouldn't be happy with that?   Okay so I may not be telling the absolute truth,  but I do however feel that this week my life has become enriched significantly, and all because of two simple words.

Comic Relief.  Or red nose day as it is commonly referred to by us Brits.  A day of 'wacky' antics, Lenny Henry and a spot of introspection.

I didn't infact manage to see any of the actual programme on the day, but did watch a documentary two or three days earlier which has made me rethink my attitude towards many things.  And yes I have seen similar reports from Africa in years past and undoubtedly resolved to change my selfish ways then too, but hopefully this has penetrated a little deeper. 

Usually I am riddled with guilt and remorse when I see the footage of starving children, unsanitary living conditions, disease, unnecessary death and abject poverty.  Inevitably it leads me to a sense of hopelessness at this world and the evils which inhabit it.  How can it be that anyone has to live like that, and why aren't those who have direct access to these people making a difference and changing lives?.  This time however I managed to see things differently.

And all thanks to one man.  One smiling African father who slaves each day to provide for his seven hungry children.  Living in cramped accommodation and having already experienced the premature departure of a child from this earth, he continues to smile, day in, day out - smiling constantly and remaining undefeated.  When asked why he smiled, for what could he possibly have to smile about, he simply replied "If I don't smile, then what will my children think??".

And that was it.  Nothing outlandishly profound or poetic.  Nothing self indulgent or self pitying.  Simply, "what will my children think?". Unbelievable. 

This led me to consider.....what do MY children think.  What do they think when they see me angry or in tears, despondent or screaming and shouting sometimes because I feel frustrated at the way things have turned out .  What do they think when I moan incessantly about my weight, my face, my hair, my life and the many chores I have to get through each day.  And how are they supposed to learn what a gift this existance is unless I display a semblance of gladness at being here.

Ultimately when it comes to the crunch, compared to these people (in Kibera) what do I really have to complain about?   I appreciate that happiness doesn't come simply from understanding that there is always someone worse off than yourself, but I am now of the firm belief that smiling is possible no matter what.  I have often (morbidly) pondered what my response would be were my children and I to be on a failing aircraft.  I have pictured placing my arms around the younger ones and providing reassurance that everything would be okay despite knowing otherwise.  I am sure most mothers think in a similar way;  that, faced with impending doom, we would never pass on our anxiety or fear to our children because we would want their final moments to be filled with love not fear.  And if that's the case then why should my day to day attitude be any different?.  Our  plane may well be headed south without a runway, but hopefully this is one smiling passenger from now on.

And since making that decision, not surprisingly life seems brighter.  On Friday it was Danny's 12th birthday and I basked in the glow of his excitement and joy at the fuss my wonderful family and friends made over him.  On Saturday he and his brother visited the LDS Temple, which in our religion is quite a significant event, and as they left in the early hours of the morning, suited and booted and looking in the words of Jamie Oliver "Pukka", I felt immensly proud and honoured to have two such fabulous young men in my life.  So much so that I decided to document my feelings before they became a distant memory, and left a short missive in each of their rooms, to read upon their return.

Later that evening at another family gathering, during the singing of Happy Birthday for Grandma's 60th, I felt a pair of arms encircle me and someone placing a huge kiss upon my lips.....followed by a whisper in my ear of "I found the letter Mum and I love you too".

And that my friends, is hands down better than any lottery prize, and definitely worth smiling for.

x x

Pick of the day.

I have a problem.  "Just one?" you ask not a little surprised at my lack of self-insight.  Well obviously not - just one which is currently impacting upon my life and leading me to conclude that I have some kind of unsavoury mental condition.

Dermatillomania is what I am referring to.....hard to take seriously when it sounds like a board game you'd get for Christmas (one of those obligatory 'family' presents purchased by relatives trying to spend as little as possible on a non-nuclear 6 man household).  But getting back to the issue - Dermatillomania - in laymans terms 'obsessive picking of the skin'.  I may have already touched upon the subject in past dialogues and more specifically mentioned the furore created by my facial self massacring when encountering my mother following a heavy session.  She is constantly telling me I must stop it but I am finding that after so many years of indulging, it just isn't easy to cease.  Lately I feel the problem is deepening though - spurred on by stress and agitation - like I have some magnetic force emanating from my head, sucking my hands towards its' surface and begging for a bit of topographical surveying.  On finding a lump, bump or indeed anything which doesn't seem to belong there  I have a compulsive urge to seek out the nearest reflective surface and eradicate said crator.  And I joke not about the compelling nature of this desire.  It has gotten to the point where I feel it is as out of hand as my hourly weigh ins -  I will even pick in public if the urge is bad enough.....which is not what the bathroom accessories display in John Lewis was designed for.  And so now I lay claim to two utterly obsessive behaviours.  Surely it is time for me to be sectioned, or perhaps voluntarily have my eyes gauged out.....If I can't look in the mirror, see the scales or indeed any enticing foods I would be fine.  Although blind.

Additionally without the (wonderful) gift of sight it would eradicate a further useless habit; spending gratuitous hours browsing symptom checkers in an attempt to diagnose myself with some obscure condition or other.   Usually by the end of which it is clear that unless I dial 999 immediately and pray for the miracle of an ambulance arriving within sixty minutes, I shan't make it to the following day.  Amazing then that I have survived thus far.  On realisation that my condition is terminal I  begin contemplating my departure from this world, decide that if I go the children will end up as metaphorical hippos, happy with their Dad allowing them to wallow in their own filth, but looking like raggedy urchins with unironed clothes, bad personal hygiene and no packed lunches for school - so perhaps I should hang on a while longer.  And so I return to the symptom checker and celebrate the news that although it may be late stage pancreatic cancer it could equally just be the effects of a particularly virile vindaloo last night.

Yes there will be no getting rid of this duck easily.  I no doubt will keep going until our financial troubles are over, the kids have grown and we are about to embark on the adventures of a lifetime.....then I shall not too discreetly keel over at the airport and take my last breath. 

Please Lord may I depart this planet happy and having recently eaten a very large donut or even better a whole bag full.

x x