When Mother’sDay becomes more of a personal turmoil that makes you grow out of difficulty

E ancora una volta il mio feed di Facebook si intasa di status relativi alla festa della mamma, leggo di come le mie coetanee trentenni apprezzino il sostegno e la comprensione delle loro madri, di come non saprebbero fare a meno di loro…

Quest’anno per la prima volta voglio anche io scrivere qualcosa in quest’occasione speciale… Non che possa scrivere come tutte le donne della mia generazione di quanto mia madre sia un appoggio cruciale e una forza della natura o che non so davvero come farei senza di lei… No, a noi non è toccato in sorte questo tipo di rapporto: piuttosto sono io quella decisa che sa sempre come prendere in mano la mia vita, mentre lei di solito ascolta ispirata ed entusiasta; di rado la chiamo spontaneamente, piuttosto le telefono prima che mi faccia il terzo grado perché non ha mie notizie, perché lei ha bisogno di sentire la mia voce e non viceversa o reciprocamente; sono io che le do consigli e la scuoto un po’ quando entra nel suo letargo emotivo… Non che gliene faccia una colpa, ma se ho un problema personale invece, trovo il sostegno pratico o umano di cui ho bisogno in altre persone, come lo trovavo in sua sorella, la zia che ho perso quasi due anni fa ma che sentivo più come una madre che mia madre stessa… 
Però anche la mia mamma ha dato qualcosa a me, cose diverse dalle altre madri immagino: una seconda nazionalità con tutto quello che comporta essere francesi (chauvinisti e che ci si lamenta sempre fino ad ottenere il meglio per se stessi); mi ha sempre detto quanto sono bella e intelligente, così tante volte che ci credo davvero tutt’oggi, anche quando insicura lo diceva anche per sentirsi fiera che fosse sangue suo, perché lei non pensa affatto lo stessa cosa di se stessa; la sensibilità di acquisire mano a mano la compassione, partendo da quella nei suoi confronti per tutte le cose che non è riuscita a darmi, imparando da sola piano piano che ha comunque fatto del suo meglio e che da qui in poi posso continuare da sola… 
Non ho neanche una foto da sola insieme a lei da pubblicare qui su Facebook, perché non ci saranno mai momenti da immortalare tipo uno scambio di vestiti, un piccolo viaggio, dello shopping insieme, un pomeriggio a prendere il tè, oltretutto odia essere fotografata… Ma posso prendere quello che c’è di meglio da questa relazione, invece di continuare a rimpiangere tutto quello che non è stato, e posso sfruttare al meglio la seconda occasione che mi è stata data il 1 Maggio di 3 anni fa con l’arrivo di mia figlia per colmare tutto ciò dell’idea di un rapporto madre-figlia che non posso soddisfare dall’alto. 
Buona festa delle mamme a tutte quante dunque, a me, a lei, a mia figlia per la madre che sarà se vorrà avere dei figli di scelta sua, a quelle che ignorano di essere eroine della quotidianità e anche per tutte quelle che sanno di essere un po’ meno capaci o portate o all’altezza di questo ruolo così impegnativo.

Why boarding schools should be abolished

My son and I are currently reading together ‘The Midnight gang’ by David Walliams. I found the book in Tesco the other day for £5 only and since at the moment he is loving ‘The World’s worst children’ by the same author and I can see how this encourages him to read on his own if he wants to continue the story when I leave his bedroom at night, I had no hesitation to add it in my shopping basket even if at first I had had no intention to buy him a new book that day. The strawberries and bread I had purchased that day would make him stronger and taller but there is nothing like a good book to feed a soul!

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When terrorists obtain the opposite of their cause, the spreading of love

We are brainwashed about horror every day on TV, social media, newspapers. A bomb killing hundreds of civilians does not make any more effect on us, chemical weapons used on kids don’t mean anything to our lives, we don’t interrupt our routine if gay people are tortured and killed in mass not far from our borders. Even when we get the odd terrorist attack on our lands, we have plenty of sharing to do on Facebook about our indignation or the immense sadness that is a young child being killed at a concert, but the ugly truth is that deep down we don’t really care about that either…

It is only when we know of the details, it’s when we realize we knew one of the victims very well, someone who lead the same existence as we do to the point it could have been us instead of them in those tragic circumstances, that we finally get properly the proportion of the facts we are hearing. The real terror, the nightmares, the incommensurate sense of each and everyone life’s meaning suddenly kicks into our flash, not only within our cold logical thinking as it’s been doing until now. At least that’s what happened to me in the last 24 hours.

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Dust if you must – By Rose Milligan

Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there’s not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world’s out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it’s not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.

14 years of loneliness in great company today

I care for my husband. Even on the days I feel miles away from him.

On the days I cannot forgive him for having once again forgotten to take down the compost bin the only time I mentioned I might not have a chance to do it myself, hoping one of us will remember this week as I always do. Or for having forgotten to help with our daughter’s potty training or our son’s homework, for wasting the left overs in the fridge as always even if  we said we will finish the following day, for often missing to tell me about a work engagement that forces me into babysitting duty last minute. Even on the days I feel so disconnected to him, to the point I don’t want him to look at me or touch me because I feel uncomfortable with myself and I might not even know why.

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One of those random nights

I never thought being a mother would be so hard. I mean to the point that there are moments I regret having had kids. All in all I am sure I won’t when they will be older and out of the house, living their own lives and connecting with us time to time, but in this precise moment that I feel so overwhelmed I do.

Maybe what I will regret when they are older, after being totally immersed with them 24/7 and resenting feeling totally drained by motherhood (emotionally and physically), when they will be teens and they won’t want to stay with me anymore all of a sudden, then I will terribly miss them and curse them to have poisoned me with an addiction to cuddling, speaking and taking care of them so much, much more than I would have had time left for myself every single day for 15 years.

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Job description: essential for this role not to feel any negative emotion whatsoever (Don’t be human)

I have been wanting to write a post on my blog about the company I work for in a long time. However I am not sure what I want to say or from where to start. My employer and I have a very complicated relationship.


It started wonderfully well: I was enthusiastic and gave my best since the start; they were very happy to have hired me and already gave me a promotion with a small increase of salary only 3 months after I joined. In the first year I worked there, I was full of hopes so I remained understanding at first with all the unkept promises of a manager position for me soon available and with the full exploitation of my abilities and my dedication to work towards a goal which (I always suspected deep down) was never really there to be reached.


Little by little I started realising (probably like every big company) how much they were systematically misleading their employees, not only me, to get them to work hard, even when they knew they could not keep their word. How many deluded people were leaving for disappointment and how high was the turn over in the admin team as very little scope for career progression was available, even to the best members of staff.

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