Sweating the small stuff

Happy times with all I hold dear.

In the last week there have been several stories in the news that have made me realise that despite the gloomy economic crisis and unemployment hitting 2 million in the UK, all that really matters is your health.

I was moved to hear the news that Jade Goody has finally lost her fight against cervical cancer on Mother’s day. I’m not a fan of Jade and had no real interest in anything she did whilst she was alive but I do find her death at such a young age incredibly sad. She was only diagnosed last summer and within a matter of months has lost her life.

I think this particularly hits a nerve with me because I have two young sons a similar age to hers and I cannot imagine how painful it must have been for her in her final weeks, knowing she’s not going to be able to watch them grow up in to fine young men. Although I would like my own life to be exciting and enjoyable, my children are undoubtedly the main reason for my existence and as long as I can be there for them pretty much every thing else is incidental.

Hearing stories about people like Jade and also Natasha Richardson who died of head injuries last week following a skiing accident (another reason why never to take to the piste) make you realise just how grateful we should all be for our health. I spend many a Sunday frantically charging around the house with a duster in one hand and a pile of washing in the other screaming at anyone who gets in my way, but what does all that matter? I could potentially go out and be hit by a bus, anyone of us could, and in fact my husband nearly did the day before we got married! It’s all too easy to forget how fragile life is when the bathroom needs cleaning and the cat’s peed on the dining room curtains.

It is absolutely heartbreaking to think about how my sons would cope without me should I walk out the door one day and never come back. Who would sit with them and stroke their hair until they fell asleep? Who would bath them or wipe their little bottoms when they call loudly for assistance from the toilet? Who would chase them around the house and blow raspberries on their stomach or tickle their feet? There are many intimate little things that parents do with their children each day yet take for granted how precious those moments are. How could a four and three year old possibly understand the concept of death? I feel terribly sad for Jade’s sons and others like them who have watched their mother’s life ebb away through illness. Or those whose lives are turned upside down by tragic accidents.

Last night when my boys were sleeping I went in to their room and I kissed their soft cheeks like I do every night and I felt incredibly grateful. They had left all their toy cars on the floor and I hurt my foot on a piece of Lego but I pledged silently to stop sweating the small stuff, to stop ranting and raving about insignificant things and to appreciate every day…well until tomorrow at least.