Bloody children! Who’d have them?!!

You know I sat here at lunchtime today thinking that my next post should be about how I’m no longer so… nuts/volatile/weepy/depressed/stressed/whatever, take your pick.

Of course this is all down to the wonderful drugs and I have no doubt I’d (still?) be a raving loony without them.

But that was lunchtime. And now I’m so cross, I’m not even speaking to two of my children, other than to say there’s no TV tonight. And believe me, that’s being bloody generous.

I cannot believe what they did to me!

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, popping into a local school supply shop after school, to buy R a new bag. The place is quaint and run by a pair of little old ladies, which is probably why it’s always so quiet. I mean quiet due to the lack of noise, not lack of custom. In fact it was busy, and I bumped into a couple of mothers I knew.

But I’m getting ahead of myself and should start at the beginning. On the way back from school S fell asleep in the boot of the car (that isn’t as bad as it sounds as there are two seats in the boot), P was also in the boot and I asked him to wait in the car to keep an eye on S whilst we popped into the shop.

He wouldn’t. Whined like a big girls blouse, but I had parked boot in and couldn’t open it to let him out easily. Nevertheless after some tense sighs I buckled, and agreed he could get out, so long as he climbed over the back seat.

He didn’t do that either. He ignored me and opened the boot into a thorny hedge.

But none of this is why I’m mad at him. Oh no, his pièce de résistance came when he got fed up with J. Instead of just standing still and behaving in a civilised manner, they began pushing and shoving each other.

I didn’t even notice until the display went over.

There must have been at least two hundred pairs of trousers neatly hung on the circular stand, which now rolled across the floor spewing it’s load around the shop.

And it didn’t help that J started screaming indignantly that it was P’s fault for pushing her. But then P doesn’t like to be outdone, so everyone got to witness his loudly broadcast complaint that she had started it.

I really didn’t care and just pointed to the door. Strange that for once I didn’t even have to issue the command!

But it was bloody humiliating having to pick up all those trousers. And I couldn’t work out how the sizes had once hung. The staff were nice enough, considering, and the only reprimand we received were looks of disapproval.

But I’m still fizzing. Didn’t help that P also slammed the boot on my head when we got home either. Especially as it’s still sore from when J did it last week.

Bloody hell these kids are bad for my health!

Shhhh, I'm hiding!

Turns out there’s one sure-fire way to get me to post, give me your kids to baby-sit!

I must be a terrible person, because they’re great kids. I think it’s just mixed with my four, plus my Friday friend’s three, it just all gets too exciting for them. But at least there’s a good reason (their parents are moving house), and I shall be reminding myself of that tomorrow, when I’m due to have them again.

So anyway, I’m hiding. Getting my nicotine and caffeine fix, whilst hoping no one falls off anything or kills another – and that’s not really very funny, as I’ve already rescued my S from inside a rolled blanket as others jumped on her!

Darn it all. I can hear screaming. I know I should go check, but so long as they’re making noise, then they must be alright, right?!

And geeze it’s been a long week. But quick, if that makes any sense! I’ve been working most days and when I’m not doing it for the money, my dad’s got some strange idea I must be bored and has me working on a couple of things for him too.

In fact I’m exhausted, and can’t believe we’re only two weeks into the term! So far I’ve forgotten about one parents evening, and can’t make another next Wednesday, and think I shall cry off a third next Friday. The teachers must think I’m useless. Which I sometimes am, but thanks to the drugs, I no longer care, Ha!

But I will give you something to smile at: I made a fool of myself today. I’m not driving my car at the moment, in fact I haven’t been for weeks as the BH is using mine because his is at the garage. So instead I’m driving one of my parent’s cars. A big Merc, like this:

Definitely a step up from my usual slug mobile, and yes people do treat you differently – in both good and bad ways!

Anyway, I rather like sauntering around in this thing and it drives so much better than mine, it really does make me a better, more serene person (regular readers will know, I hate driving and lose my temper regularly ;o)). I had to stop and get diesel today, and it’s not like I haven’t borrowed the thing before, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out where the petrol cap thingy button was. And so after standing on the forecourt looking like a bimbo with my butt in the air as I investigated under seats and the steering wheel for several minutes, I admitted defeat and went inside to request some assistance.

I got a good looking assistant too! All smiles and nodding understanding at the dozy housewife who obviously shouldn’t be driving a car she’s to dim to operate. Yes, I felt like a fool. But not nearly as much of a fool as I did when the assistant walked up and just pushed the petrol panel to reveal the cap!

Hmm, doesn’t seem right Mercs don’t have buttons on the inside, after all couldn’t someone just come along and siphon off my diesel?! And it takes a lot of diesel too!

Least that’s the attitude I’m sticking with.

Choices!

I had to make a choice this morning, catch up with you, or write a post. In truth I don’t have time to write a proper post, but then neither do I have time to read more than one or two blogs. As you can see, I opted for assuring you I’m still here!

The kids went back to school yesterday, kids being plural as in ALL which means it was S’s first day at Big school, though I’m hard pushed to call it a day as they let the tiny ones out at 12:30 for the first week. Bloody nuisance actually as I’m behind at work and she didn’t used to leave nursery until 1, so this week is actually shorter than normal!

It all went swimmingly well with S. I sat with her for ten minutes and then walked away. She did claim that she cried for me later in the morning (she wanted a ‘mummy hug’), but she’s happy enough to go back today, so I’m not worried.

R also had his first day at his new school. Safe to say he was even more nervous than S! It started well; I walked him to the front gates and agreed where I should pick him up and mentioned I didn’t know what time I’d be with him. He really should have paid attention to that last comment.

Come 3 yesterday afternoon the heavens opened. And not just a little, we had the full thunder and lightening show. Not great timing at J comes out at 3:10, P at 3:20, and R at 3:30. Sounds great doesn’t it? And it would be, if the schools were all in one place. Instead it turned into my worst ever school run! The traffic simply stopped and what should have taken me ten minutes to get to P, instead took me 45 minutes. And then I had to get to R.

By the time I did, the poor lad had been stood in the rain (and thunder and lightening) for 40 minutes.

Now you would think a twelve year old would cope with this unexpected turn. Unfortunately not my twelve year old. He managed to keep himself together whilst he was stood there, imagining I had abandoned/forgotten about him, but the minute he got into the car he broke.

I felt wretched. And he couldn’t stop crying.

I found out later the day had gone really well, but of course after tormenting himself with his dark thoughts, all his fizz has gone and it took a couple of hours to return.

But all is well that ends well, and today he knows that however late I am, I’ll never forget I have a firstborn.

Anyways it’s time I get the house up for a new day (notice it’s the second day of school and I’m again getting up at 5:30. Not complaining mind, and at least my kitchen it tidy!) Hope to get back here later, I swear I want to, just don’t hold you breath.

Here I am, AGAIN!

After my absence of late, I bet you’re wondering what has caused me to appear for the third time in three days (though I’m not prepared to put any money on that bet!), well a couple of things…

The first is my touch typing still sucks and I’ve been slipping into bad habits (my sanity is sometimes at stake through sheer frustration) and so I figured I should practice some, and this seem like one way to do it. Hope you don’t mind.

Another reason is, I didn’t want the previous post top of the page. My dad’s now doing great, and the hospital have now let him out and declared he’s getting old (at least in body, and between that and being so tall and broad, his body’s having a hard time keeping the blood getting around) they’ve also said he may require a pace-maker - in about three years time!

Well that definitely doesn’t sound too pessimistic and so I have completely stopped worrying about him, after all who knows where any of us will be in three years and there’s only so much energy I can afford to waste worrying about a future so distant!

I’m also going to tell you how clever Dave is (like we didn’t know!) He found me on Hot or Not – in no time at all! We managed to exchange notes, but discovered you have to pay to exchange messages. Bummer, as you all know how tight I am. (Umm I’m wondering how that last sentence sounds in anyone who speaks English but isn’t British. Then again, I’m not changing it, as you lot do know me, and recognise it can be nothing but innocent (that had better be what you’re thinking!!))

Other news includes finishing off the kids school shopping, hurrah for another year. Though I am starting to panic that there’s only a week of holidays left and then the chaos starts up again. Very nervous too as we’ve now arranged for activities after school on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays, with the remained crammed into Saturday mornings. On the one hand it’s nothing short of a maser-piece of schedule engineering, on the other dear heavens, what have I done??!! Running ten minutes behind will destroy everything! And then there’re the school runs. No more nursery now S is at big school with J, but now R is off in another direction and has to be there half an hour earlier than ever before. Guess we’ll just have to see how it works. Assuming it works at all…

And finally, the dog. Even thinking about the blasted beast makes me wince and rub my eyes. We managed to get hold of some Deter (like Forbid, but I couldn’t get that at all over here) but though the damn dog likes the tablets just fine and happily gobbles them down, he’s still gobbling down his poops. And socks. He’s very fond of socks. In fact the other night he was sick (it’s not unusual, and wouldn’t you be?) and revealed three socks! As if trying to get the children not to strew them about the place and lose them isn’t hard enough, now the damn dog has decided to clean up their act and eat the evidence. Of course his act isn’t so clean when it all comes up over our beige carpet, but I digress and you might be eating.

Anyhows, the dog is driving everyone nuts and the BH is starting to mutter and glare (never good!) and even I have to admit, I don’t think any of our previous mutts were this badly behaved. Kobi’s just so darned stupid. Even when we’re cross with him he’s too dumb to realise it and scoots around gleefully as if we’re paying him a compliment.

But I am trying. I’m even reading a dog training book – and that is a real reflection of my love for him as I am not a fan of these ‘how to control/improve/contain your dog/children/emotions/life/depression/etc. books’. Having said that, it’s surprisingly interesting stuff as I hadn’t previously thought about how a dog sees the world. Makes me wonder if Ryker realised he was a dog.

So these are my thoughts, along with ‘ Why the hell can’t I type quicker?’

Have a good weekend!

I should have known

It’s never very clever to say things are going well (as I did in yesterday’s post), because as soon as you do, something goes wrong.

My dad got taken to hospital yesterday after having a dizzy spell we now know was due to low blood pressure, which is kind of ironic as he’s spent half his life on pills for high blood pressure. Luckily when it happened, he was lunching with a friend who happens to be a surgeon, and the doctor insisted upon calling an ambulance (I seriously doubt my father would have done). Anyway twenty four hours later they still won’t allow him home as they haven’t got a clue what’s going on with his body (though he’s told me they’re mightly impressed with how fit he is!)

My father’s 73. It’s not that old really, is it? I certainly can’t believe this is too serious. I just can’t, because he’s my dad and strong as an ox.

And I don’t think my mom and dad are too worried. At least I think not. Though I do have a slight doubt they’d tell me if they were. You see I heard a message on their answer-phone one day that leads me to wonder if they’d choose to tell me if it was otherwise. And I’d never ask, as I figure people tell you things as and when they choose to, and it’s none of my damn business until then. And even then, it’s only my business if they want it to be.

I think my family’s like that, we keep things from each other, and only speak our mind if asked. Can’t complain about it, as I’m just as guilty at what I’ve chosen not to tell them over the years.

But occasionally I worry about the things that may never get said. Honesties and secrets that will only come out when the present is long gone.

Last night as I was walking through the hall, there was a letter on the floor. I picked it up and was surprised to discover it was a letter my father had written to me twenty-five years ago. It kind of freaked me a bit that this thing happened to be lying on the floor on the very day he’s rushed into hospital, and so I hurried through the house demanding to know who had left it there, and where it had come from.

The girls had found it when rearranging the bookcase, tucked into my old hymn book.

I used to carry it everywhere. It being the only letter my father sent me whilst I was away at boarding school. Didn’t say much really, but it was gentle and full of love.

But it did strike me that although I could remember that love, it’s been a long time since I’ve thought about it. Or really felt it. Thoughout my teenage years my father and I spent quite a lot of time together, as he would visit me whilst he was on business trips and I was at school or living in London. I think I’d forgotten about those times. I think I’ve forgotten a lot of things.

To this day, he’s always there if I want or need anything. But I’m female and therefore not worthy of any great admiration. Or maybe I’m wrong about it being because I’m a girl, and maybe it’s just because I’m not like him, driven or a risk taker.

I remember him saying that. We were in Sloan Square going to get a coffee, when he commented that I’d never be rich because I didn’t have the balls to take risks.

I didn’t argue or defend myself, though I could have pointed out that maybe it’s because I’ve seen what happens when the risk goes against you and you lose everything.

But I have since told him I believe it was my fault he lost everything. Not that I did anything, I was only twelve after all! But I’ve always had this thought that I’m not meant to have money. I don’t mean in the sense of not being able to feed your family, we’ve always managed that (thank heavens) but I don’t think I’m supposed to have it easy. I wasn’t born to it and I don’t think fate wants me to have it.

My father laughed. Told me it was a ridiculous notion. But then, a lot of my thoughts and opinions are ridiculous to my father.

How come relationships get so confusing? How can they feel difficult when it’s with people we love? And when did they become like this?

I’ve just snorted to myself, because I can remember when mine and my father’s relationship took this road. When he lost all his money. Until then I was his princess. He continued to say so long after, but by then, they only felt like words. I think I disappointed him repeatedly, and it began right after with me adoring the little house we moved in to. I rather liked being brought home from boarding school too.

There are also things I’m miffed about. Why the hell is everything my brother does so bloody brilliant? Why is their relationship the exact opposite of mine and my dad’s with my dad seeking my brother’s approval? My brother’s never done much with his life. And it’s not like he makes any effort with my parents either. Not that I begrudge their relationship, though there's an irony with my brother swearing I’m always favoured over him.

That’s bloody rubbish by the way. Just ask the BH, as he’s always left scratching his head in wonderment at my father’s complete adoration of every minor thing my brother does and says too, or my mother, who also adores my brother, but raises an eyebrow at some of his antics.

But for all these words it’s not like I think he doesn’t love me, I know he does. And I think he knows how much I love him too. It’s just, I guess yesterday shook me a bit, and I’ve been filled with memories. And the trouble is, they are memories.

By the time I was pregnant with R, I remember asking my parents to come around so we could break our big news to them. Their first grandchild. But my dad wasn’t paying attention and after I finished telling them and my mom started with her congratulations, my dad asked what the fuss was about – we were only getting a puppy after all, which incidentally he didn’t really think was a great idea with our both working full time.

A part of me laughs at the memory. Another part of me feels hollow.

Yet again, I’ve written without direction. I don’t know where I’m going with this. Nowhere I guess. It’s just I love my dad, and I refuse to believe anything bad can happen to him. Yet. I am realising time’s moving on.

He’s always been this huge giant standing over me. Sometimes that feels like a wonderful protection, other times the shadow is so cold and dark I tremble.

He’s going to be fine. He has to be.