Salt and tissue salts

The socks are no longer safely in the cupboard. Rain came this afternoon, and Jess and I like to be cosy and we like to wear socks and I noticed, this evening, that we both had a beautiful pair on this evening and said as much.

Jess’ response: “One of my pairs has been stolen”.

This accusation caused me wild laughter. And when my laughter subsided, I was left with a sense of vindication. Already, Jess’ 5 pairs are dwindling.

Jess continued, “I put the pair in a very specific place and they’re no longer there”.

I had nothing to do with the disappearance of the socks. I’m typing in the dark (my daughter is sleeping next to me) and I just used my phone light to check that my socks have an L on them, not a J. L it is.

Some of you may have picked up on the, ‘my daughter is sleeping next to me’ bit. To you, I say, “Stop”. Stop thinking that she should be in a cot, or asking, “Is she waking you or are you waking her?” Stop it. Actually, it’s fine. You can think it, of course. Of course. Please  just don’t say those two words – sleep train – near me. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to speak about it. I don’t want to consider a gentle version. Jess and I have made several resolutions not to speak to anyone about our lack of sleep because naturally, people have a solution and we’ve heard them and some of them we’ve tried and tried, and some, we have vowed to never try. So why do I raise it here? Because if I am going to write every day of the year and share it here, I can’t possibly bypass the fact that I am sleep deprived. I was going to write severely sleep deprived but then I took the adjective out. Now, I change my mind – it’s accurate. Severely. Did I mention that I don’t get much sleep?

The reason I wanted to mention the sleep thing is so that you know that I’m tired. That’s the end of the story.

No, I wanted to mentioned it so that I could speak about tissue salts. Don’t worry, I don’t sell them. My mom, Moira stands by them and she has the Bible of tissue salts at the ready. The name of the book – dubbed as of right now, the Bible – escapes me but those who know tissue salts, know the book I’m talking about – there’s a flower on the front; there’s definitely some purple involved and it’s on a white background.

Some believe that tissue salts – which are homeopathic – are just sugar pills and do not work a smidge. They do not believe in homeopathy at all and they will tell you this as they slug their rescue remedy and rub arnica on their sore limbs. Sjoe, this post is covering some controversial topics: Sleep training, homeopathy … and I think referencing “the Bible “when it’s not the Bible is probably as my headmistress used to say, “An absolute no no”. But back to the tissue salts…

Moira is a fan. She will consult the Bible for a vast array of symptoms. Irritability – take 8 on the hour, every hour (don’t actually take 8 – I just cited the first number that popped into my head – this is not Moira’s advice nor the Bible’s). Struggling to sleep? Take two of all the even numbers – 2,4,6,8, every 15 minutes, until you’re asleep (it’s the homeopathic version of counting sheep).

When I picked up Kit for bed, Moira had placed 3 of the pink tissue salt bottles next to the lamp by the stairs. She casually mentioned them – “they’re there if you want them”.

I have nothing against tissue salts. I was brought up on the stuff. And so, Moira doctored Kit’s bottle before bed. If she sleeps well tonight, I will take a photo of the Bible. My three readers will rush to get it and it’ll be sold out, nationwide.

Coming to the end of this post, I regret not writing about the fact an old school friend on the beach today, who only just met Kit, commented, “Long eyelashes like you”. (I have really long eyelashes. People tell me this fairly often – as the owner of the eyelashes, you’re never quite aware of just how long they are). Kit does have a strong eyelash game (a stronger eyebrow game – sherbet, those are some good eyebrows). The thing is, I have nothing to do with Kit’s eyelash length or incredible eyebrows. I corrected the friend, saying, “Yes, like Jess'”. Later, Jess told me to rather claim it.

The next time someone comments on her lashes, I will flutter mine (causing a light but pleasant breeze) and say, “How could she not?”

(Today’s photograph appears at the top. It was slim pickings on my SD cards and, if I’m honest, I nearly cheated and posted one from a couple of days ago. I didn’t. What I like about Jess’ shoes is the sand and that we went straight from the beach to the bath and then to socks, and that all of it was together.)