Posting something is better than nothing, right?

Oh for heaven’s sake! I’ve started three posts, but each time I get interrupted and my train of thought vanishes before I sit down again.

My first post was about all I have achieved in the last two days. A cleaning post extraordinaire! But all you really need to know is, I haven’t stopped and my house was clean and tidy for an entire seven minutes today. Of course, there’s no way you could look around and know that now, but it was, I swear!

My next post was about ghosts, I suppose because I’d been reading several accounts of ghoulish tales. But as we don’t celebrate Halloween and have no scary stuff about, my mood has moved on already.

And my last post was about the dream I had last night. Yep, my mind did as it was told this morning and allowed me to recall enough fragments to piece it together. Thinking about it now, although it is Halloween and some of you are into frightening stories, I’m not going to explain. But I won’t be attempting to remember my dreams again, as I have decided the mind has reasons for forgetting stuff.

So now I’m stuck. My thoughts are on NaNoWriMo that begins tomorrow, and in which I am hoping to take part. Not entirely hopeful I’ll get a great start as R has got a friend around, and P needs taxiing about to be with his. But you never know!

He gets it from his father!

I have decided it is time to change my relationship with P. I can’t continue to concede to his demands without going insane, and I’ve also started to wonder if I’m really doing him any favours in the long run.

When P burst into our lives we had a system of parenting in place for our eldest which worked very nicely. But P didn’t think much of our system and over the years, regardless of how the others are treated, he has always commanded more.

Of course at first we didn’t panda to his whims, but between his hearing problem and temper tantrums, he has managed to beat me into submission twist me around his little finger.

And now it must stop! Enough is enough.

My hardening heart has come about because he is anal retentive, and I just can’t stand it anymore! If he grows up to be this obsessed with details, he’ll never be able to maintain friends and relationships because he is just so bloody minded and stubborn.

Having said that, here I am, married to his father. And it’s all his father’s fault it could be genetic.

I remember the first time I served the BH toast. He sat and looked at it for several seconds before asking why I hadn’t browned and buttered it properly. There was nothing wrong with that bloody toast! Anyone else would have been quite happy to eat it. But no, the BH insists upon an optimum browning, and the margarine MUST be spread evenly into every itty-bitty corner and edge. He’s pernickety that way, with just about everything. But the big difference between the BH and P, is that the BH is prepared to make his own toast and knows better than to bother me with his detailed hangups.

But back to P, the boys are spending tonight with the grandparents. A treat indeed, and not one the grandparents volunteer for, but are browbeaten into by our eldest. In truth they’d rather not have P too, because they know his habits and moods, but at the same time they realise we’d go insane without an occasional break. And he does tend to behave when my father is about.

All he had to do was get his clothes together. Now I know some mothers do everything for their kids, but I don’t. My excuse is I have four of the little sods darlings, and the upside is, reception class teachers love me because my kids are the ones who can dress themselves and remember their heads.

P got dressed just fine, packed his overnight clothes just fine, even remembered his toothbrush. The fall came when I reminded him he had rugby tomorrow and needs his kit.

First he starts by hitting me with the whining saga again, not wanting to go because it’s too early. HA! The clocks go back tonight, so we all get an extra hour in bed. Won't feel so early tomorrow!

Next he complains he can’t find his socks and shirt. Okay, I can help here. Off I trot being the kind and generous mother I am, and hey presto they’re found! But then he can’t find his shorts. He wants the black ones.

At this point I should add P insists upon wearing trackie bottoms to rugby, even though it’s not that cold, even though no one else wears them yet.

I looked through the laundry. I looked through his wardrobe. I looked around his room. I even checked those dark places where boys hide things. I couldn’t find them.

But not to worry, I gave him his navy blue shorts instead.

Him: I can’t wear them, they’re school shorts!

Me: No one will know, darling. You’re wearing a tracksuit over them; remember?

Him: Yes they will, everyone will know.

Me (breathing deeply): How?

Him: Because they will!

Me: What colour underwear am I wearing?

Him (frowning suspiciously): Pink.

Me: No.

Him: White.

Me: No (well I was, but he didn’t know that)

Him: I don’t care!

Me: P, the point is, underneath my clothes no one can tell I’m wearing green knickers with purple spots! No one will know you’re wearing blue shorts. And does it matter? You’re allowed to wear blue shorts. In fact, you could go without shorts, and no one would know.

Him: I am going to wear shorts! But not those shorts, they’re for school!

Me: No one will know that!

Him: I will.

Me: But it doesn’t matter.

He started getting upset, and I felt bad.

Me: P, you’ve got to try and let go of the detail, darling. Some things don’t matter, and this is one of them. You can’t go through life demanding everything is so exact, you’ll only make yourself miserable.

Him: You’re miserable too!

Me: No. I’m fed up. (Heavy sigh) Look, I’ll make this simple. I’m going out in five minutes. I won’t be here when Nana comes to pick you up, and when she arrives you’ll either be ready, or not. And if you’re not… then you’re not going.

Him: I want my black shorts.

Me: Right, well I’ve done my bit, if you want your black shorts, you go find them.

He didn’t find them, and apparently took the blue ones instead. I consider this a breakthrough, and one day he will have a wife who owes me some gratitude!

The Unexpected

I’ve been sat here thinking about my day, and all things considered it’s been a good one! As I don’t often get to write that, I’ll tell you why.

Firstly, the sky was beautiful this morning. So many hues of blue, light through to dark, with the wispiest of clouds. Totally dreamy, and the only improvement would have been having the time to find a stretch of ground to lie and watch it for a while.

The other thing that cheered me, was a compliment from a mother at school. She thinks I’m calm and organised, and was believably sincere. HA HA HA!!! Told you I fake a good front!

Other moments from my day that were less joyous include, visiting the hospital for a pelvic ultra-sound. If I wasn’t still in shock, I might be able to write an amusing post on how naïve I was about what’s involved, and how it would’ve been considerate if my doctor had forewarned me. Between the humiliation and need to pee, you really don’t want to know more.

We had the first alleged use of the F-word by one of my children. Guess which one? At least pretend you can’t guess!! Yep, according to my b-friend’s son, P told him to.

But….. I’m not one hundred percent convinced. The accuser looked mighty shifty when I hauled P in to explain himself. At the time I sent P to his room, but spoke to him after the accuser had left and P was very confused over what he was supposed to have said, and asked me what the word was. I didn’t tell him, but warned if I ever hear him using bad language I’ll knock him into next week. (Which of course I wouldn’t, as he’s too old now and would probably remember for all eternity, waving it over me as the cause for all possible ills in the world.) And there’s also the history between these boys, they grate on one another and this lad’s been in trouble for using the F-word himself and knew my boy would be reprimanded. So I’m left with a smidgen of doubt at his word and hesitation over how harshly to punish P. Then again, maybe I’ve turned into one of those over-protective mothers who can see no wrong in her children. Crikey, I hope not. Guess I’ll just to have to wait and see if it happens again.

Oh, and I had great stress today! My net link kept going down!!! Ugh, if there’s one way to make me waste my time in front of the computer, it’s to drop my broadband! Reckon I could cope without almost anything, but not the internet!!! I kept hitting that ‘connect’ button, but got nowhere. Is it just me who’s this sad? Don’t answer that, I doubt it’ll make me feel like a grown up.

And today’s big irritation was… drumroll… or rather, magic wand sound. A pink princess wand was left in the back of my car, and the bloody melody went off each and EVERY time I went over a bump. Or turned a corner. Or indicated. Or stopped. And the worst thing was I kept forgetting to take it out the car. Until I reached the end of the driveway. But by then I’m late and can’t be turning around. It’s out now, and if it ever gets left in my car again, I swear it’s going out the sodding window!

So, how many of you think of me as calm and organised? I’m still laughing ;o)

It's all in the detail

Things are really annoying me today. Everything in fact.

It started when I woke and remembered my dream, which was unusual but welcome (I mean recalling the dream, not the dream itself). But within minutes it was gone, and the more I tried to remember the faster it vanished. I’m really bummed about this! I want to remember my dreams! Almost everyone else seems to be able tell me in detail what they dream about, and I feel left out!

Next to irritate was P. We didn’t have a good day yesterday, and I suppose I began this morning wary of what might set him off (yesterday it was about his shirt cuffs being too long). Today it was his breakfast. He wanted toast – which was fine, I don’t mind doing him toast and jam – but I’M NOT A BLOODY MIND READER and if he doesn’t actually ask…

The traffic was also a nightmare. As it has been all week. I don’t know what going on as there are no road-works, and I’m now leaving fifteen minutes earlier and arriving ten minutes later! And why am I always behind the twit who isn’t bothered if he makes the lights? And why the heck do they always make it through on orange and I get stuffed on red?! And I really must stop letting people out! I let one woman out, and then she goes on to pass the favour to every damnable car she sees!!

Next up was the dog walk. It should have been wonderful. The tide was just right, the sun was out, and we’re having the warmest October in a century (???). But the wind was blowing, and I mean BLOWING. After ten minutes my ears were so sore I had to give up.

Once home I threatened the dish-washer again. Hey, the threatening worked yesterday! We ended up doing a deal, it would work, and I shall stop being so tight and buy the salt and expensive descaler wash. (It had its pampering this afternoon, so it’d better work tonight!)

After that I actually had quite a nice morning as I went to Cass’s and drank tea on her patio, whilst the baby slept. It was the most civilised hour of the week.

I’m not even going to get into lunchtime with S. Let’s just say I’m glad I hadn’t swept the floor before I gave her couscous!

I was also supposed to make dinner at this point, but stew isn’t stew when you’ve forgotten to buy the onions.

Then we had to go shopping for the lawnmower sparkplug. Other than saying I followed the BH’s instructions, I can’t say much because he’s reading. But in future I shall trust my own instinct and go the shop I thought of first.

Onto ballet which wasn’t too much of a hassle, except the road we park in had road-works so they’d cancelled the parking and we had to walk twice as far. Which in turn, meant I was running to get back to it so I could reach J’s school before she came out. And once I had her, I had to get back to ballet to pick up S and meet the boys. It all went surprisingly well, but for the tiff with J about eating chocolate in my car and R trying to diddle me out of a pound (when will the fool realise I can add up?!)

And the rest was the usual chaos. Not so bad now I’m writing it down. And if I stop now I’ll have time for a relaxing bath. Ooo, that sounds good!

--x--

P.S. Are any other Brits watching Eastenders? Phil and Grant are back!! Yipeeeee!! Think I may start watching again :o)

At least it’s Wednesday.

The school term is catching up with me and I’m reaching the full-time exhaustion level. I would say ‘luckily it is half term next week,’ but I’m wincing whenever I remember.

To explain, I may as well list the people I’m supposed to be seeing (with the added bonus for me, of knowing who I have to call). Laura, Debbie, Cass, Amanda, Sue, Judith, Jenny, Anita and Fiona.

Thinking I can treble up Amanda, Sue and Judith, as they all know and like each other. Anita, Jenny and Fiona may get a call, but are the easiest to put off. Laura’s one of my best friends, and I need to see her. Debbie I have to call because I didn’t in the summer and I really must try and keep my word occasionally. And Cass, well I boo-booed and bleated on the phone about all the people I had committed to, whereupon she announced ‘I guess this is your way of saying you’re cancelling,’ luckily she was laughing!

I also agreed to a children get together at the playzone, dinner next Friday night, and now the BH has suggested he take a day off.

Why do I do it?

I think I can manage it all, but I need to get the lawnmower serviced so I can cut the grass, or else my carpet will be even more trashed than it already is. And if the BH takes Monday off I can clean the house, and mow the lawn (if it’s not raining!). Already remembered to tell the swimming and guitar teachers we won’t be making the lessons next week, and my parents are away from Tuesday so there won’t be any pressure from them.

The real horror of the week is Friday night. I don’t want to go. But I can’t even express why – though I have a theory that I panic when the kids aren’t about giving me purpose. Whatever the reason, I’m already fretting about what I shall wear. Which reminds me, Cass wants to do lunch one Saturday, but I’ve been waiting for a weekend without parties. Umm. Checked diary, two next weekend. But might cry off one as it doesn’t finish till 5:30 Sunday night and I KNOW I won’t be thrilled about that when the day comes!

Oh, also, I really want to try this NaNo write. Haven’t registered yet, but I still might. Got an idea buzzing. Blimey I’m waffling. This is reading like an email, not a post. Right, I’m off, going to try and clean the office – if I manage it, I shall then register with NaNo write (Yep, I do deals with myself, only bloody way I get anything done!)

Oh yeah, and I forgot to make dinner today!!! Seriously, I just forgot. I was standing at school and was thinking about how I wished I was going to be home before five o’clock and wondered what was on the meal menu for dinner. Not a good feeling when it dawned on me whatever it was, it should've been in the oven already! Have decided cooking proper meals is not always wise, as there are times oven ready are needed!

It’s all about the chase

Seeing as this seems to be a favoured topic, I’ll tell you about how J and Hamish got on yesterday.

The day started well with J looking forward to seeing Hamish. So much so, she decided she wanted to give him a shell. I thought this a lovely idea and promptly produced one from my coat pocket (yeah, for all my failings, I’m one of those mothers who can rescue a situation at a moments notice because of all the crap I carry around).

But I had forgotten something. Each week the children focus on a letter, this week it’s the letter ‘C’ and I got so carried away with the anticipation of Hamish’s joy, I neglected to find J anything to take into school. And it was raining (when is it not at the moment) which was a bonus for me because on wet days the children go straight into the classroom and I get to tag along. As soon as I realised we had nothing beginning with ‘C’ I rummaged around muttering to myself and produced a 1p coin for J to take in.

So there we were, hanging up her coat, putting away her lunchbox, and placing the coin on the display table, when all she wanted to do was find Hamish. Which was easy. Just head towards the loudest noise.

Unfortunately Hamish wasn’t as pleased to see J, and when she squealed and waved to him, he ignored her. J didn’t seem to notice and pushed her way through the hoards of little people to stand next to him. With her brightest smile she held out the shell.

‘C’ he said, and turned away.

Not so easily put off she continued holding it out and explained she had bought it in for him. Frowning hard he took it from her without a word.

Deed done, J bounced off to join her friends, leaving me to smile at the sweetness and watch to see what Hamish would do with his gift. His frown vanished and he looked about, searching for someone.

‘Miss, Miss,’ he walked over to their teacher. ‘I bought this in for you!’

‘A shell?’ the teacher said frowning. ‘But, Hamish, this week’s letter is ‘C’.’

‘I know, but I thought you would like it!’ he smiled one of his gorgeous smiles.

She took it from him with a thank you, while I stood with my jaw dropping. Who knew opportunists started so young? I haven’t told J what happened to the shell, and nor shall I. But heaven help him in a decade if he tries to date her!

Thank goodness

for Hoss! Because now I have something to post today. It’s a voluntary meme:

Feeling ________ (poorly, daren't cough).

Listening to ________ (the kids bickering).

Spent last night ________ (ironing and wishing it was Friday night).

Missing ________ (a friend).

Had breakfast of ________ (two cups of tea).

Thinking of ________ (whether I’ll think of anything to post about today).

Would love to ________ (do something unpredictable, but won’t)

Planning to ________ (get off my backside and finish making dinner).

Working to ________ (finish this damn house).

Favourite time of day is ________ (after the kids are asleep).

Always wanted to play ________ (the stock market, but don’t have the money to lose).

Dreaming of ________ (finding something that makes me really happy).

A dream comes true when ________ (the kids cover me in kisses and tell me they love me).

Would like to French kiss ________ (my husband, and he should be home soon ;o))

Really hate ________ (the black dog who came and pooped in my driveway today).

Wearing your heart on your sleeve!

J’s a funny one. As a rule she doesn’t like boys. She’s rarely nasty or mean, she just ignores them. Except when they get in her way, and then they’re sorry. She seems to be of the opinion they’re not worth the trouble they cause, and I suppose it’s having two older brothers and all their friends who visit, that has wised up before her time.

Having said that, there was an exception. A friend of her eldest brother, and it’s the funniest thing ever to watch her flirt with him. And yes, I did say flirt. She may only be four, but she’s long known that her looks mixed a giggly smile and a touch of shyness, works wonders on the male of the species.

A few years ago this lad didn’t mind the silly attention of a mates little sister, but now he’s twelve and avoids her, as it’s just not cool to have her giggling wildly as she alternates between chasing him about, and hiding behind me to conceal her blushes. But he’s too old to be called a friend and invited over to play with her, and boys her own age are invisible as far as she’s concerned.

When she started big school I felt bad for her. We had hoped she would get a place at the all girls convent, and she was looking forward to not having boys in class. But this wasn’t to be and she’s ended up in a mixed school. As it’s turned out we’re several weeks into term and I reckon this school is better than our first choice, but for the boys.

And there’s one boy, Hamish, in particular who been bothering her. Like her, he’s a third child with two older brothers, so you can guess he’s a bloody mischief maker an energetic soul. More amazing, they share their birthday.

By the end of the first week she was complaining about his hair pulling antics, and soon she was moaning about how he followed her around in breaks and ruined her games in the playground.

So I sort Hamish out, to see for myself who this little rascal was.

The boy is gorgeous! Tall for his age, broader than most, cute strawberry-blond hair, blue eyes to die for, and the cheekiest smile you’re ever likely to come across. Very like his father actually, but back to Hamish.

It occurred to me that she was a lucky girl maybe he wasn’t trying to hassle J, just get her attention. So I suggested she play with him. Unfortunately J was appalled with my outrageous idea, and instead went out of her way to correct his errant behaviour by telling her teacher every time Hamish so much as sat lopsided on his chair.

For a while this seemed to work, and I went nearly ten days without hearing his name spoken in her damning tone. Then she was off school on Wednesday, and I think he must have missed her because on Thursday she came running out of class glaring angrily over her shoulder, as Hamish followed in hot pursuit.

Tagging behind J, I did my best to hide my smile as she strode ahead pointedly ignoring poor Hamish chasing along and shouting her name over and over.

Yesterday J attended a fancy dress party and as my princess jigged with the other princesses on the dance floor, Spiderman arrived. Did he walk in? No, he preferred the running, drop to you knees and bowl the girls over approach. Literally. J was unimpressed to recognise that cheeky smile under all the make-up. For the next two hours she squared her shoulders and glared at him whenever he dared to get close. Another mother noticed and laughed with me as we watched him try and come up with more ingenious approaches. None worked.

Then this morning J asked to come to rugby with P and I. It wasn’t till we arrived on pitch that I admitted Hamish would likely be around because I knew his older brothers played. J gave me a filthy look, but said nothing.

He didn’t show till the final forty minutes. Then arrived in his typical boisterous fashion by hurtling up to J at full speed, grinning from ear to ear. I was talking with another mother and wasn’t up for being used as a hiding post, and shushed her away when she began complaining.

But then something happened. She had no allies to hide behind, and nowhere to stomp off to. He finally had a golden opportunity to get her attention, and he didn't waste it!

Within minutes he was chasing her about. But J doesn’t like being chased, and for once he had the sense to try a different tactic and suggested she race him up the field.

This worked and soon he had her laughing and smiling! Soon she was chasing him!!

And I know she now likes him, because as we went to leave she looked for him to say goodbye. But he was on another pitch with his mother, and J sobbed when I refused to walk that far out of our way.

I can’t wait for tomorrow to see what will happen! Will things return to their former chilly state? Or has Hamish really won her heart? And will she be bounding out of bed next Sunday morning for an opportunity to see him without her clasp of friends in tow?

Being a parent is fun!

Ah, what a week!

Or rather what a waste of a week! Though I won’t deny I’ve enjoyed it being different to the regular routine.

I had the BH home yesterday afternoon, very ill, poor thing. But apart from P, all are back at school today. And I think P is faking, but it’s Friday and I really couldn’t be doing with words exchanged first thing, so I let it go and he’ll go back on Monday.

Today had a clumsy start, with me crawling out of bed in disbelief it could possible be morning. It didn’t help that I’d apparently had a bad night and woke the BH with my nightmares, so he was tired too.

And it was raining. Really raining. Torrential.

And guess whose car had the sun roof left open all night? Yep, it’s one of THOSE days. But it’s FRIDAY, so I can’t help but be a little bouncy!

Having said that, I have a problem. Yesterday afternoon my bl*g was viewed by someone local, and as the BH was home in bed, I know it wasn’t him.

Now I’m sure all you normal people out there won’t understand why this freaks me BIG TIME. But it does.

And I need to do something about it to ensure this place remains anonymous to those I have to deal with in real life. I don’t want to trash or delete the entire thing, but I think I shall have to do some editing, rearranging, and messing to put my mind at ease. I live in a small place, and just can’t face too many people knowing the nonsense that goes on in my head.

So over the weekend, expect changes. And I’ll be starting by assuming a pen name. Many apologies up front for any confusion this may cause. But I’ll be calmer for it. I promise!

Time

I’ve been wondering if I have too much time to on my hands. I know that must sound strange, as I’m often complaining I don’t have a moment to myself, but over the last few days I’ve been realising that’s not true. There’s always plenty needing to be done, and I always tend to be doing something. But it’s all so automatic.

I drive my car, tidy the house, fold the laundry and a million other things, but my mind isn’t really there. Even when I’m sitting with the kids, they’re old enough to carry conversations and games on around me, and a lot of the time my thoughts wander.

A few years ago it was day-dreams I drifted with, and they kind of had a purpose as when I could, I would escape and write my stories. But I don’t write anymore, and the dreams have been replaced with questions and revelations. Unfortunately they rarely seem to do me good.

You’re probably thinking this is a result of being stuck in the house with the kids yesterday – but in truth, I enjoyed it! Not the constant demand for drinks, medicine, food, videos and foot rubs (that’s S, and she wasn’t even poorly!), but out of the majority of the people in my life, it’s my kids I like the most.

Yesterday I watched them and wondered whether they like me. I think P does most of the time, because he tells me how much he dislikes everyone else and when he’s cross with me, I get relegated to that group too. And S seems to, maybe not as much as she adores her father, but when he’s not around I get her kisses. J I’m not so sure of, but I don’t think she dislikes me, it just that she’s four going on forty and I’ve made choices she’s already decided against (like marriage and kids). And R would probably like the mother he had before all the rest came along.

And does it really matter whether they like me? They love me, and it’s not my job to be their best pal at this point in their lives. It shouldn’t matter, but still I find myself worrying what sort of relationships we shall end up with.

I suppose I should mention what has brought my fretting on. It was partly because a comment yesterday, but mostly after I spoke with my father this morning.

I’m smiling now, because I would bet a hefty sum it has never mattered to my father whether I like him or not. And I do love him. But I wish he would make some sort of fucking effort to make it easy.

As I was being lectured about how I know and understand dip-shit about anything, I held my tongue (as usual) and wondered if I had ever made him proud. I’d guess that I’ve made him happy, because I’ve always done as I was told. Except that’s not entirely true. If it’d been up to him, my BH wouldn’t be my BH, and we wouldn’t have four children.

I just wish… I don’t know. I just hope I’m not like him. And that’s an awful thing to say, because he has given me so much.

Confused? Yes, I’m very. So what's new.

STOP!

Five out of six of us down. Only one smiling is S, and as she’s only three and won’t be missing any rocket science classes I’ve kept her home too. But the BH had to soldier on because it’s an important day at work. So I’m home alone with a tribe of misery guts (and one giggle princess).

We have two things happening, some sort of chest infection/cold that has laid claim to R, J, the BH, and me; and then a stomach thing that P, the BH and I have got. I guess that makes us grown ups greedy.

I just about remembered to call ALL the schools (actually I forgot J’s till after nine, but it’s done now) and then my mother called to ask what time we were meeting. Huh?

For the life of me I couldn’t remember what she was talking about. Luckily she writes things down and was able to remind me S has a party this afternoon. Even more lucky is the fact I couldn’t get S to it, and so made arrangements for my mother to cover the event. And she’s still happy to do the running around! She’s also hoping to catch the tummy bug as she’d like to lose a little weight and hasn’t got much planned for the rest of the week. Mad woman, she has no idea what she’s wishing for!

P is in an almighty strop (and I mean ALMIGHTY). All because I asked him to rewrite his homework, and I only did that because his teacher commented (last night at the parents evening) on his lazy handwriting and forgotten capitals. I figured as he wasn’t doing anything else today, rewriting ten sentences shouldn’t be a big deal. And it wouldn’t be for any other child.

In fact, upon reflection, I’m going soft. I remember striking lines through my eldest’s work because it wasn’t neat enough. He was only six, but he didn’t cry or stomp his feet, he just got on with it and remembered for the next time. Why does everything have to be a drama with P?!

Oops, I’ve just shouted at him because he threatened to throw his homework book in the bin! Little git.

(Ten minutes later)

We’ve had a talk. Choices were discussed along with future employment opportunities and what he may want from life. It turns out he doesn’t want to get married (I have no idea why) but he does want a nice house, holidays and kids. He now understands I can’t give him these things, and that he shall have to earn them for himself through hard work. And it begins now, with the small stuff.

So far so good! He’s shown me his first two sentences (he’s sitting at the desk beside me) and is full of smiles and pride.

Yay for me! And him! (Can you tell I’m on medication today?)

Finding the silver lining

I’m ill. My throat hurts and every time I swallow my ears hurt too. I spent last night dozing on the couch, which is not something I usually enjoy, but given that I’d also eaten cream that had me doubled up in pain, I was glad of it.

Except now it turns out, it may not have been the cream. Second son P has been sent home from school with tummy ache and feeling nauseous. Which makes me feel bad because I sent number one son, R, into school this morning when he complained of the same thing (I thought he was just trying to pull a fast one!)

This is not good timing as I’m supposed to be at a parents evening tonight. I just about managed last nights parents meeting (too many darn kids!), but am now thinking me and mine are infecting the four schools because of my determination to carry on as normal.

It’s not that I wouldn’t like to shout STOP and just forget all the commitments, but it’s not a good example. And the healthy ones still have to be places. So I guess I’ll load up the car with bowls and hope for the best.

And whilst I’m feeling poorly, and grumbly, I shall have a moan. CATS! I don’t like them. This isn’t just because I’m a dog person, a large part is because so many people defend them! I’m sick to death of clearing up bird/rabbit/squirrel bodies because the people next door think cats are cute. They are not cute, they kill animals and birds for fun, and once they’ve smeared the guts of some poor creature across my driveway, they bugger off, leaving the mess for me and the kids to discover. And please refrain from telling me 'it's only natural', it's not natural to let loose a pet who hasn't learnt killing things is bad form. If my dog did that, you can bet your granny most people would suggest putting him down! (But cat lovers, don't worry, all I do is chase cats away. )

Anyway moan over, and now I’m off to dose myself up for the next school run and clear away a pigeon body. Wish me luck and a sick-free car.

Oh, and the silver lining… I didn’t go to parenting class this morning ;o)

Oh good, he wants to play again!

Last night I asked P what he planned to do about rugby this morning. He said he wanted to play again. But I’m no fool, and there’s no way I’m going through another Sunday like last week! So I told him in no uncertain terms only to say he wanted to play, if he REALLY meant it, and not to just say it because he thinks it’s what I want to hear (especially as in truth I’d really like a lie-in!) But he said he was sure, and that he understands he’s made a commitment to the club.

So bright and early this morning, up I got. But it wasn’t bright, it was raining. P wasn’t pleased and said he wasn’t so sure. Trying hard to keep my sigh silent, I told him to decide once and for all if he was a rugby player or not, because real rugby players aren’t worried about a drop or two of water!

Two hours later, this is what we looked like. Expect I didn’t take a picture of myself as my mascara had run in a most unglamorous fashion, and my hair was matted to my head.

I’m dry now. But I don’t feel it. My shoulders ache, the back of my chest aches, and I think I’ll go for a bath to warm up.



Oh and we have a visitor. One lone goose camping on our soon-to-be-finished deck. The BH won’t be pleased when he gets home, because they shit everywhere. Usually I chase the damn creatures away, but this guy looks like another goose gave him a pecking and he just wants a quiet spot to hide-out in, so I guess I'll leave him be.

Saffron

At lunchtime today we met the boxer dog looking for a home that I mentioned the other day. It’s taken so long to get this far because his owner’s partner had a baby last Sunday and they are in the midst of having their lives blown apart in that cutesy way babies have.

With me I had J, as we had arrived straight from ballet class but I managed to leave all the other noisy creatures at home with the BH.

It started well. The owners were really nice, though tired, and Saffron (the dog) bounded about chewing the cuffs of his master’s jeans in a most endearing fashion.

After telling them a little about where we live and how our household functions, we discussed Saffron’s history and habits. It turns out he’s five and spent his first couple of years in France where he was born, before arriving in the island with his first owner. But that chap got an offer of work overseas and Saffron was given to a family. Unfortunately the mom and dad broke up and moved to rented accommodation, as did their three sons and only one lived in a place where pets are allowed. But now he has had a baby and is moving again, and so Saffron has to go.

Half an hour later we loaded up the car with the bed, bowls, favourite toys and dog.

It was agreed that we would have Saffron till Tuesday to see how we got on, and then I’d return him for a final week with his owner, who, even though it was only for a couple of days, had tears in his eyes as we drove off.

I should possibly have prepped the kids not to all rush out to meet us, but hey, that’s my kids and Saffron would have to get used to it. Ryker (my Labrador) didn’t bother, until he saw Saffron getting out of the boot. Then he ambled down and gave a customary sniff, and decided Saffron wasn’t worth getting his hackles up over.

Great! I was pleased and let P and S work up to their normal volumes.

Saffron ran around enjoying our big lawn, and made the kids happy by actually chasing a ball. Ryker stood around waiting for them to remember he was there.

Eventually most of them got bored and went inside, but S stayed and continued to throw the ball (all of two feet at a time!). I was walking towards them when S threw the ball towards Ryker and he jumped for it. At the same moment Saffron jumped for Ryker and held on.

S immediately started screaming, I started running, R watching from the balcony started shouting his dad, P and J arrived and both became hysterical within a second, and the BH stepped out the far door looking irritated that his family are forever screaming at him for something.

I reached the dogs and shouted S to get out the way. But then I didn’t know what to do. Ryker was half pinned on the floor yowling, while Saffron sunk his teeth into Ryker’s head and tried to shake!

I was too damn scared to grab the beast! I know Boxers are supposed to be good family dogs, but they are big, and strong, with huge teeth! I just screamed and threw the poopa-scoopa (I was holding) at Saffron.

Eventually the BH got close and obviously appeared more threatening than me because Saffron stepped back and so I edged forward trying to get in front of my cowering Ryker.

There were a couple of seconds of me and the BH trying to work out if Saffron was finished or about to go completely ballistic because of all the screaming all the children were still doing. Then Ryker got up and ran for the stairs, with me stepping in front of Saffron as he went to follow.

Once Ryker was inside and the children shut up as they ran to comfort him, the BH looked at me and shook his head. But I didn’t need persuading.

That dog stood taller than S and was twice as powerful as me, and I was never going to relax having seen how he was fine one minute and a raving brute the next.

I felt a right useless wuss when I called his owner. It seems so feeble to decide after an hour that he couldn’t stay. I don’t feel guilty as such, because I have to do what’s right for my family, but I feel bad about it all.

On the upside this experience has shown me that while the kids are young, I will only consider getting another Labrador, and probably a puppy.

And I’m also thinking that maybe for Ryker’s sake, we should wait until he’s gone. Ryker looks so old today, and he’s acting all sorry for himself still. He’s too old for this shit and it isn’t fair on him.

We live and learn.

TFI Friday, time for some fun!

I have noticed many people in the blogdom share details on who they find attractive. Unfortunately I don’t find many men personally appealing, it’s not that I can’t see their attributes it’s just I’m a right picky bitch when it comes to lusting.

But as I’m bombarded with other peoples dream squeezes, I thought I’d list my own. This hasn’t been easy, and after two weeks of consideration on the subject all I can come up with is four men, (I said I was picky!) though this is partly due to my decision to include only those I find attractive right now, so a lot of old or dead guys are out.

Also, as a married woman, and because my husband reads this blog and is already unimpressed with my chosen post subject, I shall begin by saying I’m lucky enough to be married to the perfect man and he wins hands down against these others. There you go, disclaimer done.

So on to the men who charm me!


I’ll start with the fluff, and the title of ‘Man I Would Most Like To Gaze At For The Day’. I have no idea if David Wenham is a pig or saint in his day to day life. Or even if he can act any character beyond Faramir, and quite frankly I don’t much care. He’s cute in a boyish way without being too pretty, he’s six feet and all firm. Plus when he’s not in LOTR he’s got red hair (Maureen pay attention), and this leads me to the romantic notion that he’s got the look of Jamie Fraser.



Coincidentally linked to David, is his brother in Lord of the Rings, Boromir, otherwise known as Sean Bean, and regular readers know I have loathing/lust thing for Sean. He gets my ‘Man I Would Most Like To Be Locked In A Room With’ title. But as I’ve said in the past, I can’t pinpoint what it is that makes my heart beat faster and my mind wander. However, I feel it only appropriate to try to find some positives, but it wasn’t his height, as he’s not even six foot; and though his hair is kind of floppy, it’s a thinning-need to-be-shaved way; I guess his eyes are kind of alright, if you like them small, which I don’t particularly; but luckily there’s nothing wrong with his bone structure, I like that. And he’s trim. I chose this picture of him, because it’s how I think of him: scruffy and in need of the beauty parlour. But not till I’ve done with him!



Third on my list is Christopher Eccleston. Another actor, which I know makes me kind of shallow, but I’ve been watching Christopher for years since he was in *Our Friends In The North, to becoming the ninth Dr. Who (darn shame he quit!), and he’s good whoever he plays! He gets to be my ‘Bloke Next Door With Sex Appeal’ due to his expressive face and presence of person. And he’s got a great voice too.




Last but certainly not least is Benedict Allen, he may not be polished but this man has balls! He’s an explorer and treks off on the most incredible travels, recording it all himself. Though gorgeously tall and broad with sometimes floppy hair, it’s his manner I adore the most. So gentle but firm, the man is a sweetheart with a spine of steel. I respect this man too much to want a locked room, he deserves ‘Man I Would Most Like To Travel The World With’. But only if the BH isn’t available of course.






*Another excellent actor from Our Friends In The North, Daniel Craig, has just been signed as the new James Bond and I think there’s little doubt he’ll be on plenty of women’s attractive lists in a year or two!

Update on the previous post

Being a nosey sod romantic I couldn’t help but look up at Catherine’s window this morning as I set out on the dog walk, and I noticed it was open. But upon returning to my car, it was closed, so I knew she was home!

I stood there hesitating for a moment and they decided I had to know if Allan was a stalker or a mislaid lover. Plus if he was stalker, I could apologise for my part.

Catherine answered immediately and I was greatly relieved to discover she loved my note (and is keeping it for posterity!), however she didn’t have Allan’s number.

But not to worry, for Allan knows what he wants and is a persistent soul.

At lunchtime yesterday another dog walker answered the ringing phone and too made a fool of himself shouting at her window.

They were reunited! And it seems to be love, because he’s coming back to the island next week and is moving in with her! Ahhhhhhhhh…

Don’t you just love a happy ending? I do.

(I just hope he's not leaving a wife and three kids for her ;o))

Would you…

…answer a ringing phone in a booth?

I would, because I’m nosey. And I did, this morning.

Admittedly I hesitated as some horror movie came to mind. But come on, this is real life, on the beach, at just after nine in the morning. Too early for weirdoes. Too early for me too, but I’ll grumble about that another time.

And the man was soooooooo thrilled I’d picked up. He didn’t seem to notice my embarrassed tone as he jibbered his thanks and begged me not to put the phone down (it seems a few people do). Then he asked for help.

Not the best timing as I had only twenty-five minutes to walk the dog and get to parenting class. But I listened, and the story was mildly romantic.

He’s in London, but had been in the island a few weeks ago and met this girl. In fact if I turned around and looked down the car park, I would see the black gates with green bins that stand in front her building, he told me.

I turned and sure enough, they were there. He asked if I could see the three balconies and to look for the one on the left. Yep, the blinds were drawn.

As I nodded and made all the right sounds, he explained that he had this girls mobile number but that it had been cut off, and now he had no way of contacting her.

Would I mind shouting up to her window, and telling her he was on the phone? He’d wait.

How could I say no? So like a fifteen year old sneaking somewhere she shouldn’t, I let myself into the garden and stood feeling like a plank as I shouted, “Catherine,” at her window.

But it was to no avail and I returned to the caller without his lady.

He sounded disappointed, and I so was I.

I think he could tell I’m a soft touch, cause he hesitated some and then asked if I’d possibly be kind enough to ring on her doorbell.

The dog looked at me from the boot of the car. Big brown pleading eyes. But this might be true love! I couldn’t just walk away.

He gave me the flat number and I ran through the gardens and around to the car park to find the front door, all the while he was holding on the phone.

I rang three times, wishing the bloody woman would appear so I might have a nice ending for this tale, and Allan (the man on the phone) would be reunited with his love.

Poor Allan sounded even more desolate when I returned empty handed. And I really hate disappointing people.

So I offered to leave Catherine a note.

He was over the moon and gave me the entry code for the building, so I could slip it under her door.

Unfortunately I didn’t have a pen and paper on me at that moment and Allan’s phone bill was mounting steadily. I couldn’t take his number.

But later I did go and write Catherine a note, telling her how desperate he is to get in touch and how I came to be involved.

It felt a odd navigating around a building I hadn’t been invited into, but I found her door, and slipped it under.

Regrettably I didn’t sign it or leave my number, and am now kicking myself because I’ll never know how it turns out for them.

Of course he might be a long distance stalker and the girl has had her phone cut off on purpose, and is now considering moving too.

I’ll never know (unless he tracks her down and hacks her to pieces, in which case there'll probably be an appeal for the note writing accomplice). But I’m happy anyway because he sounded so pleased and even called me a sweetheart for my efforts.

The dog however, did not.

Monday almost done!

Good day today. Can’t think of a reason for it, as I have started plenty, but finished nothing.

The BH is off work with a bad back. He’s in pain, poor thing. And he missed P’s first ‘House’ football match. I was there with the other kids, even though I’d threatened not to go when I was angry yesterday. But how could I not?


The first boy wasn’t good at football when he was seven. Or so I thought, until I saw P. He’s my son and I love him, but the boy has no coordination and throws like a girl. I know these things can be overcome with practice, but really, wouldn’t be easier to pick a game like rugby and just run through the opposition? (And I know he’s supposed to have these attributes for rugby too, but they are honestly less apparent!) But I’ll shut up about rugby because that’s still a sore point. With me. Not with him. In fact you’d never know yesterday had ever happened.

P’s House team lost, 3-2, and you can see who played second half in goal… Yep, though he worked hard and bobbed about with enough enthusiasm to pop, my boy had two goals sneak past him. But he took it well and walked away smiling.

I made a mistake when I stood next to a friend to watch the match. She’s nice, but competitive. Very. Very. Competitive. To the point of irritation, and I walked away liking her a little less. But I guess it won’t matter, so long as I remember to never again stand near her when her son is competing.

One step forward, two steps back…

This weekend I began writing a post about the less than wonderful moments of my children. There was no reason behind it, and they hadn’t been giving me a hard time or anything. I just thought as I so often mention the nice stuff, it was only fair to add some balance. However that post is only half written and I’m sitting here too fizzed to continue with it.

On the whole, although I get irritated with the kids and annoyed with certain behaviour, I don’t get angry. I shout a lot. And sigh even more. I moan and gripe and get thoroughly fed up, but rarely do I actually lose my temper.

Of course the children don’t know this, and I have mastered the art of dark looks and a firm tone, even when sometimes I leave the room and burst out laughing when they’re far enough away not to hear.

And occasionally when they cause my exasperation levels to reach the point where I wonder why on earth I wanted kids in the first place, I may have flashes of anger. But they are flashes, and they pass within seconds and I remember how to be a reasonable parent.

But this morning I lost my temper BIG TIME.

I don’t think I’m a mean parent. I don’t make my kids do activities they don’t like. Admittedly I cajole and bribe to encourage them certain ways, but I don’t force. And I feel this is balanced against all the activities and things they corner me into doing. A two way street, so to speak.

However once one of the children has signed up and committed themselves to something, I do expect some effort of their part. But again if they tell me they don’t like something, I’ll listen. When R was six he made me sign him up for football, but within two weeks said he hated it. Having paid for the entire term, I asked him to continue for a few more practices and then, if he still wasn’t enjoying it, he could give it up. Which he did at the half term. I wasn’t thrilled, but he’d done as I’d asked so I wasn’t cross about it.

On Wednesday of this week, P’s new rugby shirt arrived. But instead of being overjoyed P announced he didn’t like rugby anymore and wanted to stop.

This isn’t the first time he’s said this. Last January, after a particularly cold and wet rugby match, he said it was too cold and he didn’t want to go any more. I kitted him out in thermals and a waterproof the following week and he was happy again.

So I asked P, what the problem was this time. Apparently he doesn’t like getting up early on Sunday mornings. Ha! Liar! He hasn’t got a problem getting up for kids TV!

It’s ME who doesn’t like getting up early on Sunday mornings! But do I let on, and bitch and whine about it? No! Well, maybe just a bit in here, but not to him. And if truth be told, it’s just about the only kids activity I almost like!

But I didn’t call him a liar. I said I’d like him to stick at it for a few weeks, and if he decided against continuing it may be a good thing. He could do with more sleep, and the extra hour or two would be useful to get homework done and school clothes ready. Though I also added I was sad he felt like this as he’s getting good at the sport and I was looking forward to the weekend match in Guernsey (next February a parent has to escort each child to an away match overnight).

Anyway after weighing things up, and deciding he did like the new rugby shirt – he was happy with this arrangement.

Great. This morning the alarm went off at six-thirty and I was up.

P got up at seven, and by eight twenty we were in the car and off.

Arriving early we got a prime parking space in front of the pitch, and headed up to the Club House to see if it was open for a quick hot-chocolate. It wasn’t, but P was happy and ran around with the boys arriving as I chatted with some mothers.

Ten to nine I tell him to go to the car and get his gum shield and boots. Five to nine, he’s still there and I pop over to help him strap his boots. Once finished I nod towards his group and tell him to get a move on.

He just sat there, rolling back in the chair half smiling, and then pulled his legs under him and said he didn’t feel like playing.

I sighed. And pointed out this was not the time to discuss it. We would talk when he was finished.

He started whining, saying how he didn’t really like it, and I sighed some more, whilst waving at the mothers who were waiting for me to reappear and continue the conversation we’d been having.

His group lined up and I told him I’d heard enough chat, and again said we’d talk later, but right now – GET A MOVE ON!

That didn’t work so I approached with flattery telling him this was the only game I liked to watch, and I really wanted to see him play.

He told me to get R to play then.

I said R wasn't there, and R can’t cope with a dozen boys trying to put him in the mud anyway. P smiled but still he refused to budge. So I became firm and told him I wasn’t going to be messed around. I didn’t get up at half six to be toyed with just as practice was begining.

He complained I was being mean.

No, up until that point I hadn’t been mean.

But then I lost my temper and got mean.

I don’t even remember what I said now. But we were driving before I decided to shut up. Actually I think I stopped only because I imagined the possibility of him forgetting all our nice Sunday mornings and instead remembering only the one where his mother was horrid to him.

He’s in his room and not allowed TV or playstation today. My anger’s past, but I think that’s because he’s out of the way, and I’m not ready for him to be dancing around shouting his head off in the usual fashion just yet.

It’s not the giving up of playing rugby (even if it is my favourite) or the waste of money, it’s the way he’s done it. I feel fed up about being messed around when I don’t get a lot of chances to be lazy but happily gave it up for him, and I’m pretty pissed over getting humiliated in front of a pile of other moms (and I know that shouldn’t matter, but it bloody does when it’s happening to you).

And worst of all he made me lose my temper in a huge way and that always make me feel like crap.


I thought I might feel better if I wrote this all down. But I don’t. Now I feel even meaner for being such an unreasonable mother to a little boy who’s only seven.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

There you go. Swearing makes me feel better, but I don’t get enough RL opportunities for it to work!

Today’s shot. And tomorrow’s Monday, UGH. And then Tuesday, ARRGGHH. Wednesday’s busy, *sigh*. Roll on Thursday, evening preferably. Ahh heck, I’ll just wish for Friday.

Tag!

Doug has paid me back done me the honour of tagging me with a blog meme. Here are the rules:


1. Delve into your blog archive.

2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).

A BIG Thank You

3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).

4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions. Ponder it for meaning, subtext or hidden agendas…

In fact he’s so excited at the thought of such a cool party (his big brother’s words!), he’s decided most of the class don’t deserve to go (HaHa we have a budget I can afford again – which makes me happy).

This sentence encompasses several idyllic occurrences in my life – a happy, confident child, brothers getting on, and a bank balance in credit. And optimism, and this is what makes the sentence very special, because in spite of my birthday boy’s known anti-social habits, it’s what enabled me to make the effort and be rewarded with a joyful result!


5. Tag five people to do the same.

Umm, well I figure it only proper to tag five I haven’t tagged before, so: Moxie, Daisy Mae, Anduin, Latin Lover, and Dave, you’re up!

Dilemmas

My boys don’t get a lot of freedom. I know where they are and who they’re with at all times.

So yesterday when they asked if they could play football whilst J was at her swimming lesson, I hesitated. But bearing in mind J attends the swimming class at the boys’ school, and the lads wouldn’t be further than twenty feet from the building and still on school grounds, I decided it wasn’t a big deal and gave them permission on condition they didn’t wander off and were back before the lesson finished.

P was chuffed, as being only seven, he’s only recently reached an age that I’ll dare to allow him out of my sight. But unbeknownst to me other boys joined them in their kick around.

When they told me I didn’t see a problem, as only pupils from the school are allowed on school grounds. Not until P announced one of the boys had been calling him names and telling him to ‘P*ss off’.

I asked R why he allowed his little brother to be spoken to in this way, and R explained that this boy, although in his school year, was prone to do as he liked and R didn’t feel up to tackling him. Indeed it seems this very same boy received an internal suspension yesterday, for getting into a fist fight in the playground. An all round charming lad.

Now usually I don’t believe it’s wise to get involved with disputes and tale-telling between the kids and their friends. But I’m cross, because this boy is four years older than P and should know better. Plus now I don’t feel comfortable allowing P to go play football next week, because I can’t chance him thinking this behaviour is acceptable and possibly repeating the language in his year group.

But then I awoke this morning thinking how unfair it was that P shall be the one paying the price for this other boys deeds.

So I went to R’s form tutor and snitched on the little horror.

I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing, or whether I’ve just made things really horrible for my own lads when this boy discovers he’s having yet another bad day.

And the BH and I have decided P shall be allowed to go play football again next week, and we can only hope this other boy realises the error of his ways and plays nice!


My other dilemma is about a dog. You may remember some weeks back I broached the subject of getting another dog with the BH, and got a luke-warm reception.

But the thing is, one of the mothers at J’s school *chased me yesterday to ask if I would consider taking on a three year old boxer dog.

Now normally I wouldn’t consider bringing an adult dog into our home (because of how they might react with four children clambering all over them) but this dog’s history seems sound, and it’s only that his owners have separated that he’s looking for a new home.

And they’d be benefits. Boxers are very good with kids but aren’t as hairy as Labradors or Retrievers (my first choices), and we could miss all the awful puppy years of pee on the carpet and chewed belongings everywhere. Apparently he’s also spayed and is well behaved.

But the BH says he feels like he’s in a corner and can’t say no to me, and I don’t want him saying yes without feeling sure himself. And if I’m honest, I wasn’t thinking of getting another dog just yet, but then dogs are expensive and this one’s being offered free – so maybe it’s fate?

Ahhh, I don’t know! I guess we’ll invite the dog to stay for a long weekend and see how we all get on.


* I’ve been wondering how this mother decided to ask *me*, seeing as I was with a group of people but she addressed only me.

Sharing secrets

I tried to type a post yesterday, but failed.

You see I’m in a dilemma. In the beginning I felt able to be honest in here, but this is fading. And it’s your fault. Yes, YOU! So damn nice, so damn ‘together’. Just like real people in real life.

And therein lies the problem. Because in real life, the more I get to know people, the less honest I am.

I don’t mean in a dishonest way. I don’t lie to people. I just leave out the stuff I don’t think they'll want to hear. For the most part, it’s just things about me and it’s not like anyone notices and I prefer it that way. I think they would too, if they knew.

But I did something odd yesterday, and felt shame for the rest of the day to such an extent it permeated here.

I was honest. I didn’t mean to be, and if I could take it back, I would.

Yesterday was Tuesday, and if you can be bothered to follow my lentula vitae, you’ll know I was at parenting class.

Now don’t start worrying, I didn’t tell some mom she was crap or some such. No, I decided, after sitting through yet another two hours feeling like a fraud, that I didn’t need to be there. Some of these women have real problems and difficulties. Not me. If this class has shown me anything, it’s that my husband and kids are wonderful!

I could have walked away without saying a word, like others have, but there are times I think people should know it’s nothing to do with them, just me. And so when class finished I waited for the others to disperse and then approached the instructors Mil and Lil.

I think I’ve already mentioned they’re nice women, so I won’t flog the horse and go on about that. But it would have been easier if they weren’t.

I began well enough, in my mumbled and confused way I explained how busy my life is and how I don’t seem to have the issues the others in the group do.

It should have finished with me simply saying I wasn’t going back. Instead they asked why I had signed up for the course.

And I did the worst thing you can imagine. I burst into tears.

This is a trait I despise in myself, to appear so weak and feeble. But then I hardly know these women and it’s better it happened in front of them, than my friends.

Of course they wouldn’t let me leave and sat down either side of me to try and fathom why this stupid woman was so fragile.

Just like all my internal conversations, it became circular. It’s not that I dislike any one thing in my life, I’m just so tired of it. That’s how it feels, a weariness that’s reached my soul and taken all the colour away. I want to be the person I was (not that any of you know her!).

Lil asked if I ate properly and I ended up telling her about my doctor visits; she surmised by saying she thinks I’m ill. How easy that would be, to be ill and therefore not my fault, to take a pill and not feel like this anymore. But in reality, although more tests are booked, I’m as fit as a fiddle.

Mil thinks I don’t have enough in my life for me. What am I supposed to say to that? Between time, money and commitments I have no options, and I’ve heard the one about ‘making time’, but when exactly? Once I’ve done all I have to do in a day I’m exhausted, and if anything I’m pulling away from the things I enjoy, like walking or the computer. And I’ve no idea why.

Then they made me promise I’d go back next week.

Still, on the upside, that was yesterday. And today… I used this morning to catch up on the accounts (home and work) and that’s made me feel a bit better. Well, not our bank balance, but getting some overdue chores out the way. And I’m distanced enough to see the irony of yesterday, of thinking for the past ten days how much better I’ve managed, and then falling apart so pathetically.

And on that note I shall end with an apology. I hate this wallowing, and I can’t imagine you want to hear about it either. I guess that’s why I didn’t tell the BH what a fool I made of myself, or anyone else in my real life.

But I have to let it out somewhere. And this is the only place I dare.


p.s. the woman sat on my right in class was wearing divine shoes!

Bubble and Squeak*

I’ve got a headache starting. Just what I don’t need and if I stray from making a point, you’ll know why.

As Huw commented on my last post, this morning was dull. But at least it wasn’t just because of the grey clouds, we were also missing half the sun (and in fact I was grateful for the clouds as I couldn’t find my solar glasses – do you suppose that’s why I’ve got a headache?).

And it was about the best eclipse (partial or full) I’ve ever been lucky enough to see. So my day started well!

Another person having a good day, is our daughter J, who started school three weeks ago. She’s obviously made an impression and regardless of her tears in the morning seems to be shining. We know this because she’s been awarded the ‘Class Pupil of the Month’. I didn’t realise at first what an achievement this is, but a letter detailing that her picture is to appear in the school foyer along with a certificate and she gets to wear a posh badge for the month, soon had me beaming with pride! She got it for working hard, listening well and helping to tidy up (yeah, I know I should go in and check the picture to see if it's really her!)

It’s good timing too, as her little sister S, has her school interview tomorrow. My last baby! With a bit of luck they’ll be as ignorant as the boys’ school was, and won’t figure out both my youngest of the sexes make the teachers earn their money. Wish us luck!

I’m also in a constant panic at the moment with the kids’ hair as a nit notice has appeared on the nursery school door. I checked all mine yesterday and we’re clear – but I can almost feel what’s coming.

Last time it took me three weeks to get J’s head de-nitted. Curls might be cute to look at, but for every nice thing in life, there is a drawback. Nits are our nemesis.

We have one of those electric nit combs, but all the children scream as I can’t seem to do it without zapping the kids too. The mousse stuff works well on coarse hair, and the smelly Ly-clear is good for most people. Then you have the strong really smelly stuff that has to be left on till the hair dries, which in J’s case means staying off school for the day. But even that took three treatments last time.

And because I’ve used so many treatments to no avail, I thought I’d do some reading.

I was somewhat horrified to discover all those chemicals I soaked my children’s heads with, isn’t good. And that’s an understatement.

So this time, if we get them I’ve got tea-tree oil and shampoo at the ready, along with some lesser know treatments including vinegar (left on to dry), and mayonnaise (worn with a swim cap overnight – ugh!)

If you’ve heard of any others, please let me know!

And talking of hair, I had mine cut and coloured. And the BH doesn’t like it. He denies this of course, but what would you think if your husband stared at you a full ten seconds before answering whether he liked it?!

It’s shorter than I’ve had it for six years (about the same length as my weatherpixie) and I went darker because I felt I was too blond. There’s not a lot I can do about the length for a while, but I’m going back to more blond next appointment. Not because of the BH, but because I scared myself when I looked in the mirror the other morning.

And say hello to our next generation of toad! Isn’t he cute? He’s also got a death wish as he sits on the steps to warm himself in what little sun there is.







* I'm unsure if the title is universal, but around here 'bubble and squeak' is bits and pieces left over from the week, which is what I've given you (traditionally referrring to a meal your mother inflicts upon you, with all the leftovers)

October already!

The last few mornings it’s been raining. It’s got cold too, and the leaves have started falling. This used to be my favourite time of year, but that was mostly when I got to pick when I ventured outside.

Not these days. These days I worry about how slippery the roads are, whether the kids should of worn a jumper and if it’ll be raining at the weekend, because when it rains at the weekend I have to prepare for some of the kids going stir crazy from the lack of fresh air, and the others getting me soaked as I play good mommy and stand on muddy pitches cheering them on.

Sundays are particularly cruel, as the rugby club insist we’re there for nine. Not even churches are so pitiless.

It wasn’t even properly light when the alarm went off this morning, and no hope of sunshine greeted me. Then I found P still in bed reluctant to move, as the rain fell.

But I didn’t get out of my warn bed for nothing and was past going back to sleep! And by eight-thirty we were off (can you tell I’m making an extra effort to get places on time these days?)

I even smiled when I saw there were parking spaces still to be had alongside the pitch. Lots of them.

Too many.

No training today (there was probably a letter). *sob* I got out of my warm bed for half an hours driving on a cold Sunday morning!

Still, I haven’t wasted my extra morning. I rallied the troops into getting ready for school before it becomes a panic. Now the bags are packed, homework is getting finished, the girls’ hair is washed and combed (always a trauma), we still haven’t found P’s shoes but the rest are polished, and I’m writing a post!

The best part is, now it’s October I don’t have to be strict and refuse to put the heating on. So here I am, inside and warm, and at this rate the ironing might even get done today. Oh, and the sun has just started shining, if it lasts we may head out for a walk and enjoy the colours.