The police have been fantastic, and one of the children involved has come and apologised. Not only for Jenna being hurt, but also for not telling anyone that things were getting out of hand. These groups of children are just so... lost... And I really think Jenna was right to think that they are good kids who WANT to be friends... Their world is just so messed up - our world - I wish I could mend it all...
I did the right thing to protect my baby. But also, she was right to want to be friends with them. Teaching her to be mistrustful and angry, squashing her altruism and generosity and innocence would have been so wrong for all of us/them. Still, she won't be out of sight in this area. Balancing trust and safety is a tricky high wire act.
Lots of music, fresh beetroot, and den building in our lives. Richard Mabey's Wild Cooking is my favourite new book (thanks to Martin's sister, Alison, who also got me a battered ancient second hand swift for Christmas!) and I am knitting socks. Slowly and painfully. I am already tempted to frog the mishapen things and try for a nice easy hat instead. ;) I am journalling and doodling, but not photographing. Rowan forced the zoom (thank goodness it's insured) and Martin has to take it to be fixed tonight.
We couldn't get Rowan an appointment at the doctors until next week, but eventually a nurse offered to review her notes and prescribe steroids for her without seeing us in person - and of course on the same day, Rowan's eczema started to clear and she is sleeping again normally and much less itchy without the medicated cream... Gina's suggestion of coconut oil/butter was really timely, as I had just been given some and not dared to use it in case it made things worse for her. It is working wonderfully, but makes her smell a bit like cooked rice.
I really need to get around to making more of my home made salve too, because we're nearly at the bottom of the (huge) pot. Rowan loves to be salved right now. She brings the pot and says, "ceem PWEESH!" She giggles and chortles as I firmly massage her back and tummy. She squirms and smears the cream all over me when I try to get her arm pits, where the worst of the sandpaper sore spots are. It is a little bit of connection and joy to slot in to any spare moment of quiet. Like the baby massages when she was so fragile and new.
It will be Epiphany tomorrow. King Cake, crazy dressing up, lots of candles, and three small gifts to represent the three gifts presented to the infant Jesus. In our case, chocolate coins (for gold), a maths game (as frankincense, I know it's a stretch lol), and some favourite bath soap (representing myrrh). Today is Twelfth Night, the end of our twelve days of giving which has been a fantastic success, and the traditional day for wassailing (and giving cider to apple trees).
Life is... Oddly easy and sometimes so complicated. There is not enough sleep in it for my overall sense of wellbeing to be high, or enough hours in the day for all of the ideas and projects to be completed - or even attempted. I breathe, pray, stay present, dream, let all things take their course.