Dear Diary ,
When toast will just be toast , burnt and just the way I like it . I will be alone while she is off making her own toast or a loving partner making it for her ‘ just right ’. So right now while I am the one who can make something that looks and tastes so special to her , I will gladly oblige and do so with pleasure . Whether it ’ s your steak medium rare , your salmon still slightly pink inside or of course your toast golden , I can see so much now see why this matters . Her little test to see if I will listen , go the extra mile , put aside my own The little moments that children make themselves seen and carve their personalities and place in our worlds through quirky little requests that hold so much meaning . In my tipsy and drunken moments I denied these and made her feel ‘ fussy ’ or like a royal pain in the ass or at least that ’ s what I felt she was even if she didn ’ t notice . But I ’ m sure she did because guess what , there are no more demands or fussiness , everything is just how she wants it and I can ’ t help feeling this is contentment for her , seeing her mummy ( me ) less frustrated and ‘ loving ’ her for all that she is . I gave up alcohol 53 days ago to offer my children the best of me . I know the best is in there and somehow like a flower the petals are beginning to emerge , reaching out for the sunshine , soaking it up and on the rainy days drawn to the dazzling light that the rainy sky in all its glory offers . Little by little my days have become less chaotic , less anxious and so so meaningful . The lid of internal resentment and misery has shifted and my life is being lived . One petal and one golden piece of toast at a time .
No regrets and Golden Toast
Its Saturday morning , me , my husband , my eight year old , three year old and our King Charles Cavi Bruce are piled onto our bed . Its 8 : 45am , a lie in for us . There ’ s raining pouring outside and there ’ s the distance buzz of the busy road at the front of the house . Everything is perfect . There ’ s no rolling over for another hour of shut eye and no pushing away little arms for a few minutes peace . This is pure bliss and this I feel is , ‘ IT ’. The IT that I have been waiting for , the IT that I have been searching for and but somehow never seemed to find . I know the day ahead will be positive and there ’ s little plans but nothing too heavy , all the sorts of things you do when you ’ re not hungover or slightly fuzzy in the head . The uniforms , the shopping , meeting friends for an hour , maybe even a little run . I go downstairs to make my second cup of tea , put the toast in the toaster and I ’ m committed to making sure it ’ s just right . Just right in this house is ‘ golden ’. Now for me I love it dark , perhaps a little burnt , but the beautiful eight year old that is Penny likes it … golden . In the past ( not just once ) I recall getting really pissed off inside at this request especially when I wasn ’ t able to get it right ( which was hardly ever ), one go of the toaster kept it like bread and the second go burnt it . For fucks sake I ’ d say in my head and wonder why she had to be so fussy . Sometimes I would wing it and pass it to her just to see if I could get away with it but by god I didn ’ t . She would just pass the plate back after close inspection and say , ‘ it ’ s not golden ’, I would turn away reeling and go make some new toast . Morning like that I genuinely felt annoyed and perplexed , like she was personally testing me . Now I know she was but for all kinds of different reasons . Today ( and for the last 53 sober days ) golden is was she has gotten and she will get . Reflecting I have thought this last 53 days just how much I will miss these moments when they are no longer available to me .
For my beautiful special girls , lots of love Emma xxx
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