Sunday journalling prompt

Taking care

These last few weeks, I’ve been thinking of myself as a giver and receiver of care. 

First, it was Bert’s first ever exam week, and inevitably he was nervous. I spent my evenings trying to help him to revise, talking him through sample English language papers, and trying to remember enough Chemistry terminology to test him. Every morning, when he was too anxious to decide what to have for breakfast, I made him up appetising snack plates, little piles of toasted fingers with different toppings, dotted with fruit, or one of my famed Bagel Owls, two big eyes made of sliced bagels, cream cheese and lemon slices, a breast of smoked salmon, avocado wings and feet made of olives. 

Behold, the Bagel Owl

My acts of care often involve food. I think it’s because I like to do something practical, but it’s also because I find cooking soothing, so I take a little time for myself while looking after my loved ones. Last weekend, I baked a spectacular lemon and blueberry cake to celebrate Bert’s birthday, and decorated the top with strawberries and yellow roses. But I also helped him with his ridiculously elaborate party plans (it is ever thus with Bert; he likes the design phase more than the actual event), because I know it matters to him. This Saturday, our kitchen was transformed into a mediaeval tavern for a Dungeons & Dragons game with his school friends. This has involved ordering far too many battered pewter tankards from Ebay, making chocolate 20-sided dice and - by special request - turning a batch of macaroni cheese green. I don’t understand the last bit, but it was something to do with dragons. I did as I was told. 

In truth, these gestures only represent a tiny proportion of the care I give; it’s 90 per cent about being there. Care is mostly undefinable, a quality of attention rather than an action. And, after years of pouring care outwards, I’m trying to learn to apply that quality of attention to myself, too. It’s hard to know how to do that, if I’m honest; it’s never been my strong suit. But I’m working on it. This week, I went for my regular seaweed bath and massage, an absolute, time-consuming indulgence that I would never have allowed myself until recently. I love it; it helps me land blissfully into my own body for a while, and one day I might even stop feeling guilty about taking that time.