Time to think...

Today the sun split the skies - it is official - spring has sp-rung. The daffs are out, the snowdrops have vanished and its all chocolate eggs bursting out of the shops and flip flops dug out from the dusty back of the closet. No time to hose down the decking or give the grass a once over - the great British summer has arrived... and will no doubt vanish again by Tuesday. But hey ho - let's not complain.

Husband headed off to a fancy stag do - no strippers or cheap beer and comedy breasts - instead all french dining vintage reds and expensive cheeses - and I was left holding the children. My best mate popped round to do her DIY magic and another friend came to meet Sproglette for the first time. One of those busy days when I'm always making a cuppa, wiping a bottom, holding up a curtain pole, racing to the park, kicking a ball, tidying something.

If Sproglet asked once, he asked a million times - 'Can we go to the park now?' from about oh... 7am. So we did. Once there he bumped into some mates and whoosh - he was off. DIY best mate went hunting for screws and I chatted my other friend. As the sun danced shadows behind her shades, she turned and I caught a glimpse of something sad in her eyes, no matter how bright she smiled. She had sad news. The kind you don't have any words for. The kind that involves the C word. Her sister, at 40. And I stood bouncing my baby off my hip, feeling like a spare part - wishing with all my might that I could offer comfort or solutions or any of the usual things we try to grab when we want to help someone we care about. She was so stoic and calm as she shook herself - not wanting to get upset. As if shaking would rid her of such awful, awful news. I felt so devastated for her. It is all so unjust. 40. Selfishly I couldn't help but think I am 2 years off that number. Cancer just doesn't happen to people my age...

All around us kids clambered onto frames and squealed with laughter and I felt rooted to the spot - what can you say that hasn't been said? How many times will folk tell her that at least her Sister can now live for the moment - really live for it - as when your days are numbered you've got to, right? How hollow that is. Nothing in the world could prepare you for such news - or how to even begin processing it. We all know people who know people who go through this and we shudder and mutter words 'there for the grace of god....' And it resonates with us and we sympathise because we can't even start to empathise - and for that moment we try and imagine being in those horrendous shoes, and we can't no matter how hard we try - and relief floods us as we don't have to.

I watched Sproglet run like lightning for the ice cream van and my heart kind of lurched because more than anything else in the whole wide world I want to watch that darling little boy grow up. It made me realise how silly my petty fights and worries are. That when I look back on my life I won't care about the jobs I've done and the wild career highs - but I will care that I made it to Sproglet's first ever nativity play the day after I got out of hospital post daughter's birth. That I'll care that I hung out with my dear friends and was good friend (I hope) to them, and that laughed with my family (and forgave them their mistakes) and experienced great adventures with my Husband, who I love so much. Lately I have been really celebrating every day - just enjoying being the best Mother I can be and no more. Relishing time with my kids. And I am happier and more grateful than I have ever been.

Tonight I got in the bath again with Sproglet and he was so freakin' pleased about it. Frankly most folk would recoil from my flabby post baby body - but not him, bless him. We looked at my C section scar and talked all about him and Sproglette being born. He stared at my star tattoo (just on my hip - a permanent memento from my travelling days) and mentioned that he liked such 'stickers that wash off.' I told him that my sticker doesn't ever come off and he looked perplexed. Then we jumped into our jammies and I read him stories (one about the boy who caught a star and we remembered how we caught 5 star fish last week on a rock pool marathon - and threw them all back in the sea I may add) and then we lay in his bed and looked through every photo in my phone. They start with him at 3 days old and now are filled with him and his Sister (and a random shot of a rug - yes, the nesting continues). God that time has flown. He'll be five in June - but it feels like 5 minutes ago he was born.

I can't believe I'm going to say this - but I'm in no hurry back to work any more. All I want is this precious time with my children before they disappear off to have their own lives... It really is so fleeting. I want to grab every day and squeeze every last bit of goodness from it. Feeling blessed with my lot. I don't want some TV executive to at a whim dictate the time I get to be with my family - I don't want to slave my guts out for the status of some telly job that is badly paid and means feck all in the grand scheme of things. I don't want to feel my job is my life. I have a life - one that I love and cherish and means more than any paycheck.

A girl whose blog I love (The Girl Who - google her - she is fab - or check her out at Babble - an American Mummy blog site) just posted that she has quit her tv job and is going to write for blog sites for a living - so as she gets more time with her kids. She so deserves this and will be brilliant at it - it made me think of how much I want do something that lets me be with my little people much more - and lets me put my family first. If only I knew what that great job was...

Anyway, tomorrow promises to be another glorious day. The kind where us Brits reach for our BBQ gloves and a six pack of sausages, a bottle of Pimms and our factor 50. Who knows, this freak weather may even last past Tuesday after all...