Moments of madness

I’m exhausted and it’s only lunchtime!

Today I discovered how hard life is for working moms, after I was asked to stay and help at nursery this morning. Luckily their time and activities are structured, nevertheless the line between organised and disorganised chaos is a blurry thing.

As an item of novelty I attracted plenty of little people to the play-doh table where I wowed them my snowmen, and learnt tis better to take a back seat with these things, as you can’t make the damn things quick enough to please.

S was delighted that her mom had been asked to stay and help, though plenty of her nursery-mates didn’t realise I was her mother, so when playtime arrived and S stamped her feet and demanded only I could put her wellie boots on, others joined in and I discovered how useless other people’s kids are the joy of being popular.

Next was café time. This has to be seen to be believed, and hats off to the Aunties for having the patience to follow the Education Departments rules. Do you know you’re not allowed to help a two year old pour their own drink? You’re not even supposed to help them clear up the mess afterwards, but I didn’t know that.

It was a whirlwind as twenty-four little darlings got divided into three groups. At first I was relieved not to be on the painting table, as I wasn’t dressed for it. And organising the music session wasn’t my thing, even from a distance I could feel my nerves getting frayed. So I was happy on the bead threading and colouring table.

Except… beads roll. And little darlings figure out real quick who the newbie fool is who keeps running after them. And then it just turned into a take-the-piss-session with them giving me false names to write on their drawings! I didn’t even clock why they were all grinning so happily, till I tried to lay out their stuff for home time and discovered there wasn’t a Thomas at nursery.

Still, it was an experience. And Auntie Fi reckons I’ve missed my vocation in life. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I definitely, definitely have not!

On the home front, I returned to a cold cluttered kitchen with S whining for her lunch before I’d even got rid of the cereal bowls.

But I did make P happy this morning, after he silently came into our bedroom and stood watching me dance to Sex Bomb in my underwear. Though it was his giggles that alerted me, I dread to think what damage I may have caused that boy!

Oh and talking about sex and underwear, I’m beginning to think people who have regular, rewarding sex lives do the same as mothers when talking to pregnant women. We keep quiet. I'm thinking this because Doug posted the results about average sex around the world. The results didn’t surprise me (well some of the spanking and faking it did, and I’m amazed foreplay isn’t more popular!), but either I'm a lonely soul, or the other people enjoying it are staying quiet.

Time’s too short!

I think I must have typed myself out with that NaNo thing as I’m just not in the mood to post anything at the moment. It’s not that I don’t have things I keep thinking I could post about, I’m just too worn out to articulate myself!

But whilst I’m proving to be a lousy bl*gger, I’m doing better with the homemaker title and have spent the weekend wrangling with huge pieces of material for our lounge curtains! Apart from the two full length windows to be covered, I’m doing a door curtain so the kids can’t hear everything we say about them at night when they’re pretending to be asleep. Of course any normal person would have a door, but that’s too easy and expensive for us! On one side of the door curtain I’m using the lounge material, and on the other faux suede in cream. I’m also lining it with a thermal insulator and I think it will make an outstanding throw if we change our minds and opt for the doors.

And the BH has been busy too. He’s butchered one of our larder units from the garage and moved it to our kitchen hall, so now I have no excuses and have to put the hoover and ironing board away.

Our house might be a home by this time next year!

No that the kids’ll appreciate it. As fast as we work to make things nice, they’re staining the carpet and sticking irritating stickers all over their doors. And we have told them not to. But they outnumber us. J and S have even pulled down their curtains, complete with rail before the rest of us have any up!

And that brings my thoughts back around to my thermal insulator. And back doors. Anyone would think we had another person living here with the odd things that go on! I took P to rugby yesterday morning and unlocked the door to leave (no latch, you have to use a key), when we returned we were locked out. But the BH didn’t do it. R didn’t do it, and P and J were with me. Which does leave S, but she’s too small to reach the keys and I don’t believe she has the brains to take the key, lock the door, then replace the key. Very odd. Like my insulation lining. I went into the garage Saturday night, but couldn’t find it. Which isn’t so surprising with all the crap we store in there. But then yesterday it’s sitting right in front of me, draped over the BBQ, and worse still someone had used it as dust sheet and got oil on it! Now I know it wasn’t me, and the BH swears it wasn’t him, and the kids… well, anything remotely like work and they’re out of sight, so it wasn’t them!

Other highlights of the weekend include going head-to-head with P. I really thought we were cracking his tendency to over-react when things aren’t exactly as he wants them. But we had words on Friday night, because I put two desserts in one bowl (this came about because all four wanted custard but there wasn’t enough to go around, so I made a batch of angel delight too and said they could all share). He went potty and demanded two bowls. I said no because if you pander to one… and anyway, it all goes down the same way! Anyone would think I force feeding the boy worms the way he reacted. Cruel, horrid, mean, tortuous mother that I am, I told him to forget it, as the others didn’t mind eating his share. He ate it up darn quick, but didn’t stop scowling.

Then yesterday morning he wanted to take a hat for rugby, but couldn’t find his official rugby one. Would he accept his school hat? Not on your life! I wouldn’t mind if he was gracious and just said ‘hey-ho’ and went without. But that would be too easy and he refused to leave till I emptied out the hat drawer and found one he considered acceptable.

I won’t moan about his fury at having to tuck his rugby shirt in, because his temper wasn’t aimed at me and his coach didn’t much care that P was wishing him dead.

Then this morning! Oh how the world hates this boy (at least in his opinion). Each (and every!) child in this house has to get their clothes ready in the evening for the following days activities. P said he’d got his football stuff together. But he hadn’t. And when his football top couldn’t be found as we raced about with the usual chaos this morning, any normal person would be relieved their mother kept spares of everything! But not P. The sleeves were too long. So I rolled them up. And if there’s one way to make P cross, it’s to roll his sleeves! His father wasn’t putting up with his nonsense and was in the car waiting to go and I finally pushed P out the door (literally).

And I know he’s still pissed at me because his teacher called. When I heard her voice I thought he’d made himself sick or something, but no, he’s smarter than that! He told her he didn’t have any lunch, so she lent him some money and sent him to the canteen. Little sod is such a liar! He got his lunch from the fridge this morning and stood there and watched me put it in his bag, when he was hollering about his football top.

I love that boy to bits, but I’m mighty glad the other three are more relaxed (and organised) in their approach to life.

Wow, I’ve waffled. This might be why I never have any time!

That weather girl is such a liar!

Do you see her down there (go on scroll down!) looking all perky and smug in her little jacket! Honestly, we’re having a weirdest weather ever here today and she’s standing around with the sun over her shoulder.

It’s not that we’re not having moments of sunshine, we do, right in between the hail and sleet, but she’s leading you astray by standing around looking all calm and collected.

We had that much hail this morning, I ended up having a hairy-scary moment trying to drive up a hill. The wheels just kept spinning, as J laughed and asked why I was messing about! Yeah, and that driver behind me really needn’t of proved how clever she was driving a 4x4, by staying so close I couldn’t see her headlights. I almost took my foot off the accelerator just to get the last laugh ;o)

--x--

Added: Ha! The weathergirl heard me, and has at last got her brolly out!

Good Morning!

S woke me in hysterics this morning. Gave me the fright of my bloody life! Which actually always happens when someone runs up when I’m asleep, puts a cold hand on my arm and sobs uncontrollably in my ear.

I think I cursed as I sat up, wondering if the world was ending. But once I knew I was awake and collected my wits [I’m never the brightest when woken], I managed to make out that she was telling me she’d wet the bed.

Poor thing. This is only the second time ever, which is darn amazing when you recall what I hard time I have with her big sister [still]. Little S was so organised she’d even sorted herself out before waking me! Though I am a tad concerned where she’s put her nightclothes as I couldn’t find them stumbling about in the dark. After I sorted her bed, she crawled back in, gave me a super-big hug, lay down and went straight off to sleep.

Bloody wish I could! But I daren’t, as getting two hours tagged onto a nights sleep knocks me for six. I wake up feeling like I’ve just taken a sleeping tablet, and it takes hours to pass. Is everyone the same this way?

And in truth, as J normally has her accidents by 2am, I don’t get many early mornings and I like the house when it’s sleeping and the heating’s been on. And that was a stroke of luck too as the heating doesn’t normally fire up till six in the morning, but I was so bloody cold last night I decided I was too old to wake up freezing every morning and decided to treat myself.

So now, here I am awake, nice and warm, at the best time of the day, AND it’s Friday! Umm, I might make the tribe porridge for their breakfast. And do some writing first. Funny, I would never set my alarm for this time [as I tend to need more than five hours sleep], but it’s a treat when it doesn’t happen too often.

Here’s hoping my day stays as sweet!

The first I wrote, I ranted, I raved, I deleted.

The second, I hovered around the point and missed it, but posted.

Then I thought again, and edited.

But still I felt ashamed, so pulled it.

Is this making any sense to you? A couple I know. Sorry. Plunge day.

Where the heck did November go?!

Dropping J off at school this morning, I was reminded the School Christmas Fayre is this Friday. THIS Friday! Is it me, or is Christmas coming around earlier each year? Actually I know the answer to that – it is me!

When I was younger I used to be organised, one year I even had the shopping done by 1st October – this year? Err, well, I’ll try and get into town at the weekend, or maybe next week. And of course this Nano thing hasn’t helped in the least (except for improving my general mood, and you can find me on cloud number 9 – and it’s been a darn long time since I was here last!!)

Ooo, and I’m going to pause here and shout WELL DONE, MAUREEN! Maureen hit her 50k last night, and (if she's anything like me) is no doubt dancing around her kitchen this morning, and just starting to notice how filthy the floor is.

But coming back down to earth and remembering what a crap mom I am, I have to find some stuff for the school fayres lest my little darlings are the only ones without stuff to sell.

And I haven’t started the curtains yet. The BH pointed out if I tackled them like I have done the writing this month, they’d be finished and up in a jiffy. But as I told him, my motivation isn’t there (except when it’s dark and cold and I’m worrying about the cost of oil) and they don’t bring me the same satisfaction. Oh so generously, the BH retorted, “Yeah, but they’ll bring the rest of us, a whole lot more!” Umm, what is it to be appreciated!!

Calling time.

Umm, not many words to go. In fact, time for me to strip naked and do a dance in the rain – I’m done! I reached fifty thousand words this morning, I’m just putting off updating the word count (and anyway, it isn’t raining!)

And it might not take the extra fifteen thousand words I predicted to finish the story, because as I’ve said before, the characters tend do their own thing and are bringing it to a finale sooner than I expected (it's better too ;o)).

I’m gutted. And I know I should be happy, but this is what I’m like! I feel like a child who’s having its favourite toy ripped away. The adult in me knows I can carry on and I don’t need some stupid challenge to do it, but I DO, I DO!

Plus the BH reads this bl*g and knows my time is nearly over. At lunchtime he asked if there’s any chance we might get some curtains for Christmas. Umm, well, I suppose if I’m being forced to turn into *me* again, I should pull my finger out and make the house look like a home.

Other highlights from my day include: J arriving at school this morning, and going to place her bag in the correct queue. She takes a detailed look at the mass of bags, turns to me and with hands on hips says, “Does this look like a line to you?” Heaven help me, what have I created?

And being manically waved at, by my ‘friend’s’ partner. Seeing as I let him out at a junction, it doesn’t seem unusual that he might raise a hand in gratitude, but he went way over the top and looked like a demented toddler trying to get my attention with a big grin on his face. Huh? I’m confused! She’s spent the last three months avoiding me at all costs, and yet he’s overjoyed to see me. I don’t get it, and I’m not going to bother trying to figure it out. But I’m thinking he doesn’t know she still owes me money. That’s if he knew in the first place. And this is actually odder than I cared to mention before, because what I didn’t tell you was, he’s an ex of mine. Luckily a very short lived ex, but nevertheless we were never overjoyed to see each other and had one of those awkward ‘Hi, how are you [now please let one of us be swallowed, screaming into a bottomless pit]’ greetings. Oops, said I wasn’t going to try and figure it out! Well, I still haven't.

Starting to fret

My word count is good, a little too good, and I’m only getting the grace of my Better Half till I reach fifty thousand words. Which I could probably manage today *sob* Then this shall all have to stop, and I’ll be required to join real life once again. Apart from two hours of taxi driving yesterday, I was sat at my computer from eight till one in the morning. And it was easy. And fun. And I don’t want it to stop.

I’ve even started to wonder if my notebook text document could be inflating the number of words, but the NaNo info page says it’s word documents that do that, so I guess not. This doesn’t mean the story is finished, and I’m estimating another fifteen to twenty thousand should do it – and I even have an ending I’m driving towards! But I can’t continue to ignore everyone around me, so it will have to be finished at leisure, and that’s a worry because slowing doesn’t suit my madness method.

On the upside I am feeling good about this story – not that the story is good, I think it could most likely be classed as corny chick-lit mush – but I feel that it has a pace and direction, though the lack of description makes my toes curl. And I’ve already decided the first six chapters need to be scrapped and rewritten, but whether I’ll bother remains to be seen, as I don’t think this is a story I shall share. But that in itself is another funny thing because I see this experience very much as a learning curve and am at peace with the idea that this is just another step towards creating something decent one day. I thought my last book was good when I was writing it and had some daft ideas of doing something with it, but when the edit job crushed me like a bug, I walked away feeling bereft – and yet this one – I know isn’t good enough to do anything with, and it’s still making me happy!

I’ve even been daring enough to mention to a few people in real life that I’m doing this. And if you think that sounds minor, then you don’t know me very well! One woman made me laugh when I explained what NaNoWriMo was, she said ‘So you’re a writer!’ err, no, I write, but I’m not a writer. Yet. ;o)

In my thoughts

BETTY J. MAUDLIN
06/06/1937-11/18/2005

Feeling good – must be FRIDAY!

My eldest daughter, J, is four going on fourteen and started school this September. Unlike the boys, the transition from nursery to big school hasn’t been too difficult – except for the fact she has to manage without her little sister S. Being so close in age, and sharing a bedroom, they’re used to doing everything together and each morning when we drop J off there are lots of kisses and ‘I love yous’ before J will let us leave the playground. Not that I’m ever in a mad hurry to go, as no teachers appear till 8:45 and there’s no gate to secure my little darling in.

This doesn’t mean she’s in any immediate danger, as the school is small and the older children are wonderful at looking after the little ones. Nevertheless I hesitate. But few other parents do.

On Monday morning a tiny little thing, with a scarf tied tight around her neck, began coughing. And being a nosey do-gooder I edged my way over to ask her if she was feeling alright. She promptly threw up. Of course I took her with me and banged on the doors till a teacher came and pulled a face when she saw what had happened.

On Tuesday morning, exactly the same thing happened. And I mean EXACTLY. Same child, same coughing before being sick, same teacher with the same expression.

On Wednesday one of the dads brought his daughter to school and as I was the only adult in the playground, assumed I was a teacher and began talking to me as such. When I explained I’m just a clingy mommy who worries more than most, he was horrified that so many others just let their little darlings run around without supervision. He sat with me as I comforted one little lad who’d had his hand trodden on.

Yesterday a grandfather mistook me for a teacher and actually handed me his granddaughter before telling me he wouldn’t stay because people don’t like old men hanging around kids playgrounds. When I explained I wasn’t a teacher, he hesitated and asked if I would keep an eye on his granddaughter because he wasn’t keen on leaving her alone when he had promised her mother he would get her to school. I agreed, then took care of one of the older boys who had fallen and grazed his knee.

By now I’ve got quite a following and I’m beginning to wonder if some of the kids are mistaking me for a teacher too.

Today’s Friday (Yabbadabbadoooo!) and is extra special because the children are allowed to dress in their own clothes if they donate £1 to Children in Need. This is more exciting than you might imagine for a four year old, and J and I had our first ‘adult’ row last night about what she would wear. She’s turning into a right stroppy little madam. But I won and she’s in jeans and trainers.

As I entered the playground this morning I could feel the buzz of excitement off the kids, all running around like mad things and comparing clothes, shoes, scarves, and coats. And what an array! It’s obvious some parents lost the fashion argument with their offspring, as there were at least four little darlings dressed as princesses and a power ranger too. It’s not that I don’t adore these cute outfits – it’s just that the kids have got to get through the day without freezing, falling, or needing help with the toilet, and I have doubts how many of them will manage this in their full length garb .

I stood around as my posse gathered to show me their glamour. And then one little girl walked into the playground and stopped dead. I saw her before she noticed me. I couldn’t really miss her as she was the only child in uniform.

My heart was breaking for her as her little face crumpled. I know it’s not a big deal, only clothes, but it was a huge deal to her. I barely had time to bend down before she flung her arms around my neck and sobbed. Between hiccups she explained she’d been off school ill this week and her and her mommy had forgotten.

Luckily when I banged on the doors, it was J’s teacher who came (another softie) and when I suggested the little mite might be allowed to borrow some clothes from the dress-up corner, J’s teacher happily obliged. I left her choosing between nurses outfits, cloaks, and princess dresses.

Best of all, I’m left feeling good. There’s something very special about other people’s children throwing their arms around your neck and letting you dry their tears.

You know that old saying…

Careful what you wish for, because you might just get it…

Well, that’s what my Nano story is about, a girl learning the hard way that you have to be very specific with your wishes because sometimes they do come true.

It’s six thirty in the morning and I should be carrying on with that story, as early in the morning or late at night is when the writing comes easiest for me. But right now I can barely type this damn post!

I wish for things.

I wanted to lose some weight before Christmas, and as I now don’t own a pair of tight jeans, I should be thrilled. But as my boobs are vanishing faster than my butt I’m discovering it’s not about weight, and more about proportions. Then again, when Christmas arrives I should be able to put this wish right, so I won’t fret yet.

I wished for my muse to return, and he has! And so far, that’s great. Except he’s a little consuming, and I’m a little tired. But again, I’ll get November out the way, and then discuss our working relationship with him.

No the wish that I’m truly regretting is that one I made, to remember my dreams. Well now I have that wish. The last three nights I have woken and they’ve all be clear and bright as day. And now I want them to go away. On the first morning, I was amused, thinking that maybe I should write horror stories. Yesterday I was subdued, and began to wonder what my subconscious was trying to tell me. Today, I am just a wreck, and I’ve already had three cigarettes and spent half an hour trying to stop crying and write this damn thing!

Yep, I should learn to be very, very careful for what I wish for.

Yippeeeeee

I remember this feeling! It’s wonderful, and it’s been such a long time since I’ve felt like this. I thought my muse had deserted me for good, but he’s back and whispering in my ear constantly. Right now, if I had the choice, I would sit at my keyboard from dawn to dusk.

I can’t pretend my writing has improved, if anything I think it’s got worse, and it remains to be seen if I shall bother to return to this story to add some description and correct my atrocious grammar.

But what do I care? I don’t write for others, and I’m pleasing myself immensely! Coincidentally yesterday, Lita and Mark both caught some of the magic of why I enjoy it so much. Mark with his What Ifs, and Lita with her Memory Prompts, writing lets me live different lives whilst capturing the memories of this one. Am I getting a tad dreamy? Damn right I am and loving every second of it!

I just wish I could make this last. But I know it won’t, because with me it’s a state of mind. And not an entirely healthy one. My eyelashes are falling out and I think my alopecia is coming back, and the weight is coming off me so fast I could wear big knickers if I wanted without the worry of knickers lines in my jeans. No, the time will come when I shall have to gag my muse. And he doesn’t take kindly to that and tends to vanish in a strop.

Still, I have a little time left and the dream isn't done yet.



Back in real life: the boy can't go back to school till tomorrow, even though he's been fine (big surprise there!), and this afternoon, Wednesday and Thursday are horribly busy so I expect my word count to slow (well, only if I want to sleep, which is another irritaing inconvience!)

Nothing new here!

I think I might be living groundhog day! On the positive side, this means I get to tell you the ‘Saint’ cleaned and tidied the house for me again yesterday (although he is getting a tad fed up with not having a wife at the moment). On the negative, I’ve just had to collect P from school again! Though he did manage an entire hour today.

Neither the school nor I really know what to do. You see on Friday we agreed to gang up on him – not that he knew this – we just decided that from now on we’d ignore P’s claims of feeling poorly until such time as we saw for ourselves he really was ill. So when he raised his hand and said he didn’t feel right his teacher and assistant left the room and decided they’d give me a ring to let me know, but not to pick him up.

Unfortunately they hadn’t even finished dialling my number when he proved in a most grand fashion, that he really was feeling sick.

I felt so guilty when I picked him up and felt the need to apologise for letting him eat a bowl of Shreddies and four slices of toast this morning. But he didn’t feel ill then. They nodded cheerfully, rushed us out the door, and no doubt went and washed their hands again.

I don’t really mind him being home, as it’s not like I had any plans beyond tapping at my keyboard (YAY!!), but I’ve got an extra child to pick up tonight and can’t contact her mother to check she doesn’t mind her little darling being exposed to Master Chuck-up. And if I didn’t have the ‘extra’ I could have got J picked up for me and asked R to walk home, that way earning an extra hour at the keyboard, grumble -grumble.

Having said that it probably does me good to get out of my dark, smoky den occasionally. Got to find the silver lining ;o)

And by the way, I want to say a BIG *THANK YOU* for all your nice comments. You guys really give me a boost! And I know this blog’s turning to s**t because my non-existent life has become even less interesting with this writing thing, but I am SOOOOO enjoying myself, and your kind supportive words keep the guilt at bay :o)

Have you seen my word count? Who’s been a busy bee? That’d be me! I typed right after I woke, I typed as I drank my lunch (I type faster when hungry!), I typed as I sat in the corner at a kids birthday party (looking very shady and aloof), and once home, I just typed, and typed, and typed! And now I’m back on schedule! And yes, I know we’re not even half way though, and that there is NO BLOODY WAY I can keep this up, but that’s why I’m dancing with delight right now, ‘coz it might be my only chance!

If I wasn’t such a pessimist realist busy mom, I might hope to actually accomplish the 50k before month end. But come on, I am busy, but then so is everyone else, soooo… at this rate, maybe, just maybe... ;o)

Half-assed!

I’m behind, with everything! The house is a mess, the laundry is piling up, bills haven’t been paid, the kids rooms are looking like disaster areas, the dog is beginning to hate me and has started walking himself, I haven’t returned calls, meals are getting decided upon preparation time (and last night got left to the BH to sort), my hair is constantly tied up in a mess, not a decent blog post in sight, and I’ve barely spoken to anyone because my mind’s elsewhere.

And after all that, my Nano word count isn’t as high as it should be!

Do I care? Not as much as I should! Actually I’m enjoying sitting here wrangling over what my heroine should do next (yeah, it would take a lot less time if I’d had the story planned out before I started, but hey, this is me!) In fact I’m really enjoying it! Have realised it’s looking very doubtful that I’ll make the fifty thousand words I need to be a winner, but even that isn’t putting me off

As you can guess I haven’t had time to write a witty and entertaining post (do I ever? Ha!), or even a grumble about the kids (and I have lots of those – grumbles and kids) but as you have so kindly swung by to see me, I have put together a selection of my favourite spam subject lines for your reading (I know it’s lame, but some of these amuse me!)

Don't expose your intimate life! You mean like I do in my blog?
Evil-wishers are always around to spread rumors. Plenty of evil gits trying to take my money too!
Why let people know about your intimate life? I guess because I’m becoming a hit slut.
If I got one, youll get ten lol This is a worry considering what they were selling…
Everybody was kung-fu fighting... Makes a change, and it sounds like fun!
Are You Destined To Be Fat? Umm, more likely poor if I respond.
Top 10 Ways to Improve Your Body Image Geeze, who sent you pictures?
Ever wanted a fuckfriend? Not as much as a spam filter!
Find sex-addicts in your area Got one of my own, should I register him?
Warning! this may contain more than you can handle! Very doubtful I’d want to!
Put some sunshine in your life with the Med diet! Yeah, ‘coz diets bring sunshine!
Dating for nymphos Umm, no thanks heaven knows where they've been, and marrying someone with an equal sex drive is definitely easier and less costly.
No more penis enlarge ripoffs! I’d have to have a penis to care, or are you suggesting I'm heavy handed?
Sexy Arms In Minutes! Is there such a thing?
Friends may come and go, but enemies tend to accumulate. For you maybe! You may like to consider refraining from telling people they need a bigger penis .

And my favourite: I’m bored I can tell, after all you’ve emailed a total stranger…


What’s the best scam subject you’ve had?

This is getting tiresome.

P seems to be ill a lot. Or rather, he says he’s ill a lot. Yesterday, on the way to school I noticed him clutching his tummy and asked him if he felt alright. This was probably a foolish thing to do as he immediately said he’d had a rumbly tumbly (our name for runny tummy) and felt sick.

Being a soft touch, I duly went in to see his teacher to say I’d keep him home. But she wasn’t there yesterday and I’d had to leave a message for the supply teacher. All day he jumped about the house and there was no evidence of anything amiss with him. So this morning I said he should go back, and he didn’t argue.

I dropped the boys off at their school around eight twenty and headed off to the next school. Luckily I had primed J about not staying too long with her in the playground, and I was able to able to make the third school before nine for once!

Sitting in the car park I debated the dog’s walk but decided I’d get the shopping done early and headed back toward town.

At exactly nine minutes past nine my mobile went. Except it’s illegal to answer your phone when driving so I had a right dance through traffic as I manoeuvred to a safe spot to stop and answer. It was P’s school. He hadn’t even been there an hour and they were asking I pop by and take a look at him, as he was complaining he felt sick. Again.

Luckily I was two minutes away and even P was surprised at how quickly I was at his side. He did feel a tad warm. And what am I supposed to do when the school obviously don’t want anyone who might be sick about? So he’s home, yet again.

But I don’t think he’s ill. And his constant supposed illnesses are playing havoc with our after school activities. S missed swimming yesterday, and today J will have to miss hers, because I can’t have him in the car for two hours at a time if there is the slightest chance he might be poorly.

I’m at my wits end. I’ve talked to him and he says everything’s fine at school. No one’s being horrid to him. He hasn’t got any tests. It’s not swimming today. He says it’s all good at the moment. And yet...


But this gentle approach the school and I take has reminded me of a childhood incident. When I was five and in the first proper year at my convent school, I was taught by a merciless bitch woman called Mrs White. She was old and ruthless and unless you were on your death bed, she expected you to be in class.

On this one occasion I had been off school for a couple of days with sinusitis, but my mother was playing in some golf tournament and was desperate to get me back to school, and so packed me off, promising that if I needed her the school would call the golf club and she’d come get me.

Mrs White had just taken registration when I put my hand up and said I felt ill. I remember she ignored me for the first few times I said it, but I guess I must have irritated because then she slammed her hand on the desk and told me to go into the coat room (like a big cupboard than lay adjacent to the classroom).

I did as I was told, thinking I should put my coat on. But that wasn’t what she meant at all. She locked me in.

Luckily I had been an wicked big sister that day and pinched my brothers snuggle blanket. I sobbed into all morning, alone in that dark room.

At lunch she came in and asked if I was ready to be a big girl. When I said I was, she said I could go play in the courtyard, but I wasn’t to tell anyone where I’d been all morning.

My mistake was not realising she’d watch me. I headed straight for a prefect and started to tell. But I didn’t get the story out before that witch was storming across the courtyard and carried me screaming back into that room.

At the end of school she again warned me I wasn’t to tell anyone, or I’d be back in there the next day. This time I believed her. I didn’t tell my mother about it till I was thirteen and had changed schools five times.



Today I’m asking P to stay in his room because he’s supposedly poorly, anyone would think I’m locking him a cupboard the way he reacts.

Just the usual

I’m cold. As usual. I’m tired. As usual. And the BH won’t be home till late, so I haven’t even got anything immediate to look forward to. Oh, and P has been off school sick, again. Except I don’t think he is sick, more like playing me for a fool. So I’m probably a tad stressed too. And as for the writing! What was I thinking?! It was a good job it started last week when it was half term and I had some stupid idea I’d have time for it, ‘coz if it’d been this week I never would have got started. But now I am started. And although I’m horribly behind, I can’t give up. I won’t. That’s just admitting I’m too useless to do what I’m always bitching I want to be doing. And should be doing right now. Except I’ve only got ten minutes till dinner is ready, so there’s no point as it takes me longer than that to get going. I’m like that with a lot of things, slow to start. And then I tend to get bored. Or a headache. Guess which one I have right now*?



* (Hint: it ain’t boredom)

Flying post

I’m afraid my lack of time (due to Nano) is starting to take its toll. When I’m not busy tapping away my waffle for the word count, I’m either exhausted or doing something completely different for the distraction.

On the upside I have finally got around to making most of my Unused Templates IE friendly. I can’t explain why, but I get an immense satisfaction from playing with them! And if anyone wants to use them, feel free to give me a shout. (But if you want your own pictures or lots of tweaking, you may be waiting till the end of November!)

I’ve also started the Christmas shopping, which is bringing its own guilt. The kids are so excited and are now counting the days and have given me a couple of lists of ideas. Which they keep adding to. Unfortunately, except for my eldest, R, none of them have a clue how much things cost and P’s list alone totals hundreds of pounds worth, he doesn’t stand a chance and I’m worried he’s going to be very disappointed!

What’s truly hard is, when I try and explain we have a budget P smiles sweetly and tells me it’s okay, he’ll ask Father Christmas. So I told him I thought his requests a little rich, even for Santa, but apparently Santa is extremely generous with most of the boys in his class. Hmm, his days of believing in Santa may be numbered.

We also need some new Christmas decorations this year, as the last lot we bought a decade ago have now dwindled to a few paltry baubles, and I can’t even get the bulbs our fairy lights use anymore! I bought four packs of paper chains this morning, so that should keep the kids busy one afternoon and get out house feeling a little festive (and NO we don’t decorate till mid December, but everything sells out by then!)

Any other inexpensive decorating ideas welcomed! (But no homemade biscuits or candies on the tree – our dog can jump!)

Oh, and whilst I'm here, I shall take this opportunity to say: My husband is a SAINT! I know you've heard it before (and you probably shall again), but he was such a sweetheart and cleaned the house for me yesterday (giving me time to type), I need to say a big THANK YOU :o)

Trying

What stops cramp in the legs and feet? I ask because I’m being woken up with them a lot lately. Like this morning. At seven thirty. Which was irritating as it was the last chance for a lie-in before next Saturday. And because I was tired, having been out last night.

The evening was a bit of a shock. These days music is played a lot louder in bars, drinks are twice the price, and taxis no longer take an hour to show up.

As for the company. Umm. This is tricky, as I’ve never been the position of wanting to be bitchy on my bl*g before, and the old paranoia’s of getting caught or sounding like Sleeping-Beauty’s step mother come into play.

I suppose I could skirt around the issue and just explain the table seemed to divide on two sides. And I was sat bang in the middle. On the one hand was Mrs-Corporate-Lawyer-with-three-degrees, on the other I had Miss-I-came-from-nothing-and-I-blame-YOU! I suppose if I was philosophical I would say it was somewhat apt I was between them. But that would suggest I was able to relate to them, and I couldn’t.

To be honest it didn’t much matter to me that they each held their own little kingdoms passing compliments and wisdom to the minions, but sitting quietly doesn’t seem to result in being overlooked like it used to. It just makes people ask you questions. That and having four kids. What the heck is it with some people? When I had three kids I didn’t gape at people with four. And what the hell is someone with four kids supposed to look like? I know it’s a compliment, and it’s nice to get compliments, but at the same time, the tone of disbelief lets you know that they think you’re quite insane. At least that’s what I get from it.

Actually that does lead me to a bit of sympathy, Mrs-Corporate-Lawyer looked knackered. Don’t get me wrong – she was an attractive lady, but I nearly choked on my chicken kebab when she announced her age. In fact this may well have been the first time I’ve ever wanted to stand up and shout, ‘HA, I’ve got FOUR kids AND I’m older than you!’ But no one else was doing it so I figured I’d better hold back.

Didn’t with the other mother, mind. Hmm, it’s going to sound like I hate her – and I don’t, it’s just she has attributes that drive me bonkers. Her voice for starters. The only time voices cause me such discomfort, is when my girls get over excited and start screeching. And it also has a sort of bouncy-ness like a bad tune, bit like that Crazy Frog ringtone.

But apart from her pitch making me want to grab a cushion and stuff it in her mouth, she also managed to annoy me so badly, I quite fancied the idea for fun.

I’ve known this woman a long time, near on a decade if I stop and count. She’s one of life’s organisers, which is a good and positive thing for the rest of us. She’s the one, who on the first day of term followed each mother around getting their names and numbers to compile a list, so we’d all know who was who, and which children belonged to whom. In the second week of tern she was voted into the PTA. It was her that got us all there last night. Yes, very organised, and I even discovered she organised four get-together days in the summer holidays, for the entire class. But I wasn’t invited to those, so I can’t comment further.

What wound me up last night, was when she demanded everyone’s attention to discuss PTA matters (and no, the rest of us are not involved because we’ve yet to figure out where these organised people find the time). She explained she had put forth an idea to the PTA board which had been accepted and she was implementing. Next summer they’re having a ball. A chance to dress up in our finery and jig badly on some matted, makeshift dance floor. It’s only £50 a ticket and she’s counting on us, because as she told the board, she’s a single mom and if she can afford it – then we all can!

WTF? Fifty quid a freaking ticket??!! I make that: two people £100 / babysitter £30 / taxis £20 / finery I don’t own £50, at least £200 for ONE NIGHT?! You’ve got to be kidding!! And if I had two hundred pounds to blow, I sure as hell wouldn’t be spending it on a meal!

So I told her. I wasn’t rude about it, I just explained that I couldn’t afford that. Bloody hell I wish I hadn’t. She proceeded to bore me senseless telling me all about how she was the youngest of seven and they didn’t have a bath tub till she was eight. I have not got the faintest idea what this had to do with my not having money to throw around. But it sounded like a lecture, in fact most of what comes out her mouth sounds like a lecture.

Luckily a taxi arrived and whisked me and my favourite mother friend out of there.

Except even the drive home turned me cross-eyed. My favourite mother friend had been sat near Mrs-Corporate-Lawyer and I think she must have fallen in love a little. All she could talk about was how amazing and clever this woman was. [Now is when I’m really going to sound like a mean-spirited jealous bitch] You see I’m kinda thinking someone who gets three degrees (all in real subjects I should add) sounds confused, like they really didn’t know what they wanted to be when they left Uni. Or maybe they didn’t want to leave Uni at all. And she sat there telling my friend how lucky she was to work part time after boasting about earning the GDP of a small country and complaining about her nanny. She just didn’t sound that smart to me, intelligent yes, but not that smart.

Of course I didn’t say that to my friend, after all, I’m just some dumb hick mom who doesn’t get out enough, so what do I know?



And please forgive my mood, I must be pre-menstrual, and tired. And I will probably be sorry I posted this in a day or two when the guilt of thinking mean thoughts about others hits home (I’m like that, give me a day and I’ll swear they’re all delightful in every way. (But god it feels good to share a bit of this right now!)).

F-F-F-F-F-F-Friday!

I should be excited. I should be thrilled. I should have my Friday feeling. Because tonight…I’m going out. It’s an adventure, and one I used to do several times a week when I was a teenager. So why the hell am I a nervous wreak?

Oh I HATE going out!

I don’t have any clothes. I don’t have any shoes. (Well I do, but I mean suitable!) I can’t really afford it. And I barely know these women! Why did I agree?

This is the third ‘Mothers’ night I’ve agreed to in the last decade and each time, I wonder what possessed me to go. The first one was with my eldest’s class group. Boy, did I feel a hick with that career bunch! All very nice I hasten to add, but I felt a dumb hick nonetheless. The second lot was P’s mothers. That was a big mistake because it was right after school began and P was still in his ‘beat ‘em all up’ stage. I spent the evening apologising for his behaviour and left with my tail between my legs swearing I’d never go to these things again.

So why did I agree, yet again? Well this time I was smart enough to refuse when first asked. But then I saw the mother who’s asking at swimming and she went on (and on) about how our lives revolve around the kids, and how in another decade or two we’ll have nothing. And she really emphasized the NOTHING! And once she saw my look of abject horror and fear, she brightened and told me the friends I made now would be the ones who would be around to help and comfort each other when our lives become totally meaningless.

I could hardly say no after that. Even if others did.

And what’s the big deal? It’s only a meal, right? Oh dear heavens, what have I done?!

Maybe I’ll drink! Just the one, mind. Any more than that and I’ll be making a fool of myself. Maybe I should have had a drink each and every night this week in preparation as there’s nothing worse than a drunk mother living it large because she doesn’t get out enough.

Oh, and in case you’re thinking ‘this appears to be only the third time this woman’s been out in a decade’, no, no, no! This is the forth, so there! But that other occurrence was after an OU exam and I got waaaaaaay too drunk (at least three drinks!), and I ended up stumbling home, seducing my husband in a most un-thoughtout manner, and got pregnant with P. You can be sure THAT WON’T BE HAPPENING AGAIN.

Ooo, just looked at my clock, just over eleven hours to go. We’re meeting at eight. What am I afraid of? I don’t know! But I am!

I keep trying to thinks of the positives… getting to know new people, doing something different, having a meal cooked for me. Yes I can do this. It won’t be so bad, there are only a couple of career moms, and J’s been nice to all their little darlings, and in another decade or two I’ll be alone and without purpose, meaning and direction in my life. I’ll need these women.

Bloody hell, even I’m realising how pitiful this is! And at the very least, I’ll have something other than the kids and washing to blog about tomorrow (lucky you ;o)).

Wish me luck!

Bedlam!

We had a full house today with a couple of school moms around with their assortment of children. Most of the kids were little ‘uns but there was a ten year old we hadn’t met before thrown in for good measure.

I thought it would be ideal, because my eldest is only just eleven, and they’re both boys. What I had forgotten is how you dread your parents introducing you to someone and then them walking away to leave you to play. In fact it was only when the other mother asked her daughter if the big boys were talking yet, that I stopped to remember how much I despised going to a strangers house.

Luckily for the youth of today there exists the wonderful common language of playstation, and so even when you really don’t want to know the person sitting next to you, you’re more than happy to garrotte them with a sword. The boys got on great, and spent the afternoon in silence broken only by the groans of defeat and the whoops of victory. (I feel the need to add it was raining hard all afternoon, or they would have been kicked outside.)

What I particularly liked about this get-together was, both the moms I invited were smokers! Yes, it’s my dirty little secret and one which I go to great lengths to keep hidden from most people I meet. As I imagine most of you are non-smokers – for plenty of good reasons – I’m thinking you may not realise how smokers feel, and you probably don’t much care, but if I say I feel like I’m committing a major crime whenever I light up, will you stay?

And there aren’t so many of us left anymore. I suppose that’s a good thing for the next generation, but smoking for me has been interesting way of meeting people. In the old days there were smoking carriages on trains, and I had the most fun travelling across America meeting fellow smokers condemned to sit apart. I really don’t think I would have got chatting with half the wonderful characters I did, without the camaraderie of doing something so frowned upon.

But back to today and my excitement of openly sharing my dirty little secret with people other than the BH.

We don’t smoke throughout the house, it’s only allowed in the computer room and is another reason why I feel the most comfortable in my little den. One of the moms even commented how well planned our den location is, tucked at the back of the house, away from any halls or rooms upstairs, and how you can hear the children travelling through the house towards you, giving you enough time to meet them halfway and stop them inhaling any of our poison.

But we weren’t quick enough with her daintily toed daughter (very unlike my elephants!) who sprung out of nowhere and stood in the doorway eyeing the unusual vision of her mother in a group smoke session.

She frowned and we hastily started removing evidence of our wrong doing, “Is this a garage?” she asked.

Guess where her mom has to go for a quick cigarette ;o)

--x--

I haven’t written a thing today. Except this. Not good, but tomorrow isn’t too busy so maybe I’ll get to catch up (?!), I won’t tonight because between Rome and Lost the TV programmers have lured me into being a couch potato for one night a week. I bet I’ve totally destroyed any nice impression you may have mistakenly had of me!

Wow, I’ve realised something amazing! I’m still totally crap at description and for the sake of NaNo Write speed, it shall be discarded entirely (unless the mood takes me). And I write very differently when in here, which I think is kind of odd. And I’m not sure whether to try and fix it, at the moment the bits I’m writing jump from serious (well, as serious as I can be) to worrying about hair frizz (which has it’s place, but not usually when I’m trying to write a proper story). But maybe that’s my problem! Maybe I can’t write seriously and should just let go of trying to! Whao, revelation at work here! Though I can’t actually pretend to be amusing (I think you need a sunny disposition for that), I could be something in between! I don’t know what’s that called…? Anyway must run, using words you know!

BTW today’s half-assed proper post below!

Deary me!

Half a day down, and all of eight hundred words written for NaNo Write. I could almost be pleased as it’s the most I’ve written in months, and yet, here I am writing a post instead.

But then, I’ve got something to tell you – which I probably shouldn’t share – but it gave me such a shock, I have to!

You remember the nick-name we gave our son P? Nero – because like the Emperor, he fiddles. Well he’s moved on to greater heights, or maybe we just hadn’t noticed before how big a problem this is (pun intended), but to the point. This morning I walked through the lounge and witnessed a scene I imagine was years away!

Do I have to spell it out? Let’s just say I didn’t realise boys of his age could get quite as… much wood ((?!) phrase pinched from Doug, who’s familiar with these things ;o)), and where did he learn all the actions? Is it instinctual? Either way, my eyes popped and I shouted his name in a very high pitched tone, before shrieking a lecture about doing such things on my sofa!

Of course his brother ran into the room and began laughing hysterically when he realised what had been going on, “That’s DISGUSTING!” he told P.

But then I panicked, worrying that I may instil some weird hang-up that could affect him for life – so I felt the need to tell him it isn’t disgusting. Just inappropriate on my sofa, in my lounge, WHERE HIS MOTHER MAY SEE HIM!

Gosh, I’ve gone red just writing about it! What am I going to do with that boy? Still, as my b-friend pointed out the other day, at least he isn’t maiming small furry creatures. Yet. Got to find the bright side, eh?!