Motherload

Race for life This weekend, my daughter and I did the local 5k Race for Life ( thank you, you can still donate! ), to raise money for research into cancer. This is the third time we've done it, and it's become a bit of a tradition to see whether we can beat the previous year's time. Logically this should work, because as my daughter gets older, she gets taller and faster. We won't go into what happens to her mother.  I didn't sleep well, and woke already tired and fretful. The rain had bucketed the night before, and the terrain was soggy, so I suggested that she and I head into the runners' group, so that we'd have a fresh start — we weren't going for a runner's time, we just didn't want to be slipping over in the churn.  Within only a few moments, daughter was straggling and slowing to a walk. Not yet well breathed, I was hopping up and down and urging her forwards in what I hoped wasn't too obviously a stentorian manner. She seem...

I was watching Bridesmaids  (2011) again tonight, and was reminded of a fabulous scene: Annie's Pity Party, and the  pep talk  she gets from Megan. We have watched Annie be edged out by a competitive female, Helen, who has stolen her best friend, Lillian, and her rightful place as Lillian's Maid of Honor, trumping Annie at every stage of the wedding preparations with lavish outlay, and making her look a fool if ever she does get the chance to organise anything. Annie has, to boot, lost her cupcake business, her flat, her new job in a jewellery shop, her car, her nascent relationship with a new man, and has had to move back in with her mother. She is sitting on her mum's sofa in the daytime, watching Castaway  and crying, when in comes Megan, sister of the groom, with the nine puppies she has taken from the bridal shower party. Megan has witnessed Annie's tribulations, although until this point we have no sense that she understands or sympathises with Annie...

The other day I was announcing the fact that I'd wangled a month in the country to write a book. Usually there are very few comments on my blog — but this post was somehow noticed by Mumsnet, and then caused a micro-ripple in the blogosphere.  The gist of the post was that I had felt the ire and judgement of people when I told them I was going away, and had assumed they thought I was a bad mother for leaving my duties for such a long time.  But the comments were an absolute revelation — people were not judging, they simply felt jealous .  I'll write about jealousy another time, but in the heat of the moment, this is what I felt, and wrote as a comment.  I saw afterwards that it's really the heart of the book I am trying to write: Oh no! the last thing I want to inspire is jealousy — I want everyone to find a way to do whatever it is they need to be happy.   — Part of that is a serious critique of the ideologies governing life...

Several months ago, in November 2009, I attended a rather wonderful course at The School of Life (http://www.theschooloflife.com). The morning involved several exercises designed to enable us to reflect on our family makeup. The afternoon included a session introducing us to constellation therapy. Constellation therapy relies on a theatrical moment. It isn't (quite) a trick, but nor is it completely devoid of trickery. A group of people sit in a circle and compose themselves through breathing techniques. Someone offers a problem. He or she briefly names the problem, and has a short discussion with the therapist about the background to the issue. Then the questioner is invited to choose several people from the circle, who are to represent key characters in the issue. The issue is always interpersonal. These representatives are then positioned, seemingly at random, by the questioner, within the circle. The questioner acts instinctively, placing the representatives in a pattern, or co...