Saturday, November 07, 2009
On nightmares and dreams.
Oh what a time we have been having. Sometimes I just can't write about it because it is too much, too hard to put into words.
Rats.
Can you believe it? We have had rats and I say that in a past tense because I swear if I ever see or hear another one in this house (or any house I love in) again I will lose my mind, what's left of it anyway!
It all started so long ago, with that one tiny little grey creature that ran across my front room and oh how I hated that! How awful I thought that little fellow was. I still think it WAS awful because I now know he was the tiny little mouse that lost the draw. I now believe that the colony of festering vermin living under our home had a straw draw one night and that little lookout lost and was sent to reconoitre and go back with details of all the pickings that were to be had.
Since that night, oh so long ago, we have found, trapped, killed, disposed of, lived with maggots and flies, cleaned, scrubbed, cleaned, blocked off, trapped, killed, disposed of and shuddered at the nightmare that is our home.
10 days ago the council came, oh hoorah! Professionals! Such hope we put into the rat man as he cometh.
We made an extra effort at cleanliness and tidied and scrubbed and waited, sure that he wouldn't be able to walk and say " well, of COURSE you have rats, you filthy slummocks, look at the dirt in here" ( and let me say no-one could ever say my house is dirty ...it is preety much always untidy, it always looks as though we never make any effort to be orderly whatsoever, one of these days I will leave it and then let everyone who visits unannounced see just how bad it could be.) we are untidy but we are very clean. So I wanted the rat man to be sympathatic and say something like "Oh you poor dears, look how clean you are, this is not your fault at ALL!"
What he did say was "where have you seen them?" he threw down poison and then said " There ya go, something is going to DIE and then, well then it was smell like bloddy hell"
Never a truer word said.
Oh my good heavens, what a smell.
You know how they say if you see one mouse / rat ..there are another 10 you don't see? And then you think of how bad that one dead mouse smelled that time when I threw it in the bin....multiply that by at least 30 ( because we trapped and killed 3 HUGE rats in 12 hours at the same time as he put the poison down, one of them had a body 8" long, not including the tail) well that's what it has smelled like in this house for the last week. Luckily at the party we had all the doors open and lots of glorious food cooking so no-one smelled anything, also friday wa sthe first day I started to smell anything funky..by sunday it was so awful that it was hard to believe the party was such a success.
They have chewed through floors, ripped carpets, eaten holes in walls and even eaten through the plastic storage containers in the pantry.
I feel as though I have been living in my worst nightmare. I abhor anything dirty, I can deal with most anything apart from bad smells and it is impossible to explain how terrible this smell has been. It has been so bad that today I was inpsired to write a blog and thought that title ought to be " things I never knew smelled as lovely" and I was innspired by my armpit. YES my ARMPIT! I was changing my shirt and as I lifted my arms up, I caught a whiff or soapy, cotton fresh deodoranty smell and I thought, oh that smells so GOOD, I love that smell. As fast as that thought flew through my brain was the folowing thought of ...actually Ihave thought that about some pretty bizarre things this week. Like H's face, but his face smells so grand, I bought him ' Farenheit aftershave when I was in Boston ( the place of heavenly smells, oh Boston how my nose adores you) there have been many times over this past week when I have shoved my nose right against his face and taken a good old sniff and said " oh you smell so lovely, can I stay right by your face because OH I CAN'T STAND THIS RAT SMELL..can you?"
H doesn't flinch at smells, I used to think he was like my dad and didn't have a sense of smell at all, but now I know he can smell things because this week even HE has said " Oh, that is so bad, I gag every time I come downstairs"
The first day or two, going upstairs was a treat, clean fresh air up the stairs, we have had the windows open this week, while others have been truning on the heating and getting cosy, we have had windows open and no heating on, oh no....heating warms the smell and it gives it extra power and we can't have that now can we?
So upstairs was fine, until on sunday, as I took a shower I was overwhelmed by the hot steamy stink of dead rat.
It seems they had a little holiday home behind the bathroom cupboard and as the shower ran, hot and steamy, so the dead vermin hidden behind walls began to cook and ....you don't need to know just how traumatic that was.
My soul has been crumpled and beaten down this week. Dramatic, I know but true .
Slowly ( and how slowly) the dead smell has weakened, we are down to a medium musty, slightly rotten smell in most places, the bathroom smells of bathroom, all soap and freshness and my heart sings a happy tune.
Downstairs there is still a stench that makes me cry and H heave, right near the kitchen door, we couldn't put a name to it, it's not the dead smell but it is SO strong, when I go out and come home again, as soon as the front door is opened I can smell this odour and it makes me want to turn right around and leave again.
I have plug in fresheners, bottles of febreze, cans of febrese air freshener, we have used odour killing powders, I have pop socks filled with fragranced granules, the same granules are in burners and candles warm then and make the house smell beautiful but by the kitchen door.....hell awaits us.
We worked out today that this spot has been some kind of lavatory for rats with bladder issues.
There is no getting rid of this stink, other than ripping this carpet out and srubbing the floors underneath and when the wood is all clean and dry, putting new carpet down.
There is a faint glimmer of hope in that, I hope this means that the Landlord will replace the carpet, it is so old anyway and very worn in places ( and incredibly ugly to whit) I hope he can claim on his insurance and we shall be all fresh and also beautiful. I am also calling my insurance company and see if it is covered by my contents insurance.
H bought some sticky traps today, just to make sure that they are all gone...Seth, ever on the ball asked " So, what's the plan if you actually catch a rat in one of those? Are you planning to cream really loudly and stress it to death because I can't see any of you actually KILLING it"
On the nose again Seth-Meister, I leave it all to your father. Although I shall certainly help in the screaming department!
Rats.
Can you believe it? We have had rats and I say that in a past tense because I swear if I ever see or hear another one in this house (or any house I love in) again I will lose my mind, what's left of it anyway!
It all started so long ago, with that one tiny little grey creature that ran across my front room and oh how I hated that! How awful I thought that little fellow was. I still think it WAS awful because I now know he was the tiny little mouse that lost the draw. I now believe that the colony of festering vermin living under our home had a straw draw one night and that little lookout lost and was sent to reconoitre and go back with details of all the pickings that were to be had.
Since that night, oh so long ago, we have found, trapped, killed, disposed of, lived with maggots and flies, cleaned, scrubbed, cleaned, blocked off, trapped, killed, disposed of and shuddered at the nightmare that is our home.
10 days ago the council came, oh hoorah! Professionals! Such hope we put into the rat man as he cometh.
We made an extra effort at cleanliness and tidied and scrubbed and waited, sure that he wouldn't be able to walk and say " well, of COURSE you have rats, you filthy slummocks, look at the dirt in here" ( and let me say no-one could ever say my house is dirty ...it is preety much always untidy, it always looks as though we never make any effort to be orderly whatsoever, one of these days I will leave it and then let everyone who visits unannounced see just how bad it could be.) we are untidy but we are very clean. So I wanted the rat man to be sympathatic and say something like "Oh you poor dears, look how clean you are, this is not your fault at ALL!"
What he did say was "where have you seen them?" he threw down poison and then said " There ya go, something is going to DIE and then, well then it was smell like bloddy hell"
Never a truer word said.
Oh my good heavens, what a smell.
You know how they say if you see one mouse / rat ..there are another 10 you don't see? And then you think of how bad that one dead mouse smelled that time when I threw it in the bin....multiply that by at least 30 ( because we trapped and killed 3 HUGE rats in 12 hours at the same time as he put the poison down, one of them had a body 8" long, not including the tail) well that's what it has smelled like in this house for the last week. Luckily at the party we had all the doors open and lots of glorious food cooking so no-one smelled anything, also friday wa sthe first day I started to smell anything funky..by sunday it was so awful that it was hard to believe the party was such a success.
They have chewed through floors, ripped carpets, eaten holes in walls and even eaten through the plastic storage containers in the pantry.
I feel as though I have been living in my worst nightmare. I abhor anything dirty, I can deal with most anything apart from bad smells and it is impossible to explain how terrible this smell has been. It has been so bad that today I was inpsired to write a blog and thought that title ought to be " things I never knew smelled as lovely" and I was innspired by my armpit. YES my ARMPIT! I was changing my shirt and as I lifted my arms up, I caught a whiff or soapy, cotton fresh deodoranty smell and I thought, oh that smells so GOOD, I love that smell. As fast as that thought flew through my brain was the folowing thought of ...actually Ihave thought that about some pretty bizarre things this week. Like H's face, but his face smells so grand, I bought him ' Farenheit aftershave when I was in Boston ( the place of heavenly smells, oh Boston how my nose adores you) there have been many times over this past week when I have shoved my nose right against his face and taken a good old sniff and said " oh you smell so lovely, can I stay right by your face because OH I CAN'T STAND THIS RAT SMELL..can you?"
H doesn't flinch at smells, I used to think he was like my dad and didn't have a sense of smell at all, but now I know he can smell things because this week even HE has said " Oh, that is so bad, I gag every time I come downstairs"
The first day or two, going upstairs was a treat, clean fresh air up the stairs, we have had the windows open this week, while others have been truning on the heating and getting cosy, we have had windows open and no heating on, oh no....heating warms the smell and it gives it extra power and we can't have that now can we?
So upstairs was fine, until on sunday, as I took a shower I was overwhelmed by the hot steamy stink of dead rat.
It seems they had a little holiday home behind the bathroom cupboard and as the shower ran, hot and steamy, so the dead vermin hidden behind walls began to cook and ....you don't need to know just how traumatic that was.
My soul has been crumpled and beaten down this week. Dramatic, I know but true .
Slowly ( and how slowly) the dead smell has weakened, we are down to a medium musty, slightly rotten smell in most places, the bathroom smells of bathroom, all soap and freshness and my heart sings a happy tune.
Downstairs there is still a stench that makes me cry and H heave, right near the kitchen door, we couldn't put a name to it, it's not the dead smell but it is SO strong, when I go out and come home again, as soon as the front door is opened I can smell this odour and it makes me want to turn right around and leave again.
I have plug in fresheners, bottles of febreze, cans of febrese air freshener, we have used odour killing powders, I have pop socks filled with fragranced granules, the same granules are in burners and candles warm then and make the house smell beautiful but by the kitchen door.....hell awaits us.
We worked out today that this spot has been some kind of lavatory for rats with bladder issues.
There is no getting rid of this stink, other than ripping this carpet out and srubbing the floors underneath and when the wood is all clean and dry, putting new carpet down.
There is a faint glimmer of hope in that, I hope this means that the Landlord will replace the carpet, it is so old anyway and very worn in places ( and incredibly ugly to whit) I hope he can claim on his insurance and we shall be all fresh and also beautiful. I am also calling my insurance company and see if it is covered by my contents insurance.
H bought some sticky traps today, just to make sure that they are all gone...Seth, ever on the ball asked " So, what's the plan if you actually catch a rat in one of those? Are you planning to cream really loudly and stress it to death because I can't see any of you actually KILLING it"
On the nose again Seth-Meister, I leave it all to your father. Although I shall certainly help in the screaming department!
Labels: horrible things
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Sixty Six.
Oh UP gramma!
Elijah the weary wizard.
Joshua, my grandbaby boy.
66 People at the party.Roaring success.
Ears are still roaring.
Huge fun.
Huge mess.
Huge joy.
Worth every minute.
Labels: memories
Thursday, October 29, 2009
I hate it when that happens.
I have a stiff neck. A sore, stiff neck, from tensing every muscle for hours and days at a time, I have panic attacks in my sleep and I woke up last night actually choking on stomach acid, life is a bowl of something, can't remember what though and it's probably best if I don't guess.
Actually whatever my deal is is almost certainly in my head because on the face of it, all is hunky dory. Obviously my head knows something the rest of me hasn't discovered yet because I am, quite frankly, a total cow at the moment.
I am jumpy and nervous and oh, I am so ANGRY.
The preparations for the party are going really well, we started early and so we can take our time and do things at our leisure, which is great isn't it? Well it would be but there is no school this week and so everything I do, there are 3 little boys here undoing it or 'helping' or not even pretending to help, they are HERE and they are touching and moving and dropping and breaking and losing and just TOUCHING. Oh the touching.
I know they are little boys and there are so many exciting things around, we don't do things by halves and so we have many, many props and decorations, I am 47 and when I look through the boxes I squeal and exclaim and I am so excited by the plans of what to do this year with everything, how much more exciting it must be for little boys and because we brought all the boxes down from the loft on monday there has been an enormous amount of touching and squealing and fighting with bloody plastic daggers and glow in the dark machetes.
Elijah seems to have a knack, oft mentioned before and as yet still not grown out of, of being able to merely walk into a room and have everything fall apart around him, Oh look! Eli is just standing there and yet all those decorations fell off the wall, whoops a drink is there and Eli is there and ...oh never mind, we'll clean it up.
H has been more quiet than ever this week, barely a word has passed his lips and all the while he is cleaning and tidying and doing all those dreary things that need doing even when there is a party to prepare for, he has cleaned cupboards, inside and out, he has cleared the yard and scrubbed it, he has worked and worked while I have fussed and shopped and fussed some more.
He won't touch a single thing to do with the party, until after the party when he will clean it all away and take down and pack up. He is splendid and worth having around I tell you.
This evening Jordan and Mel came around to help with all the high up stuff, I love to see how enthusiastic they are, I have grand ideas on what to do but when it comes to actually doing it, I feel all overwhelmed and weary, Jordan and Mel came over and they did everything I imagined and more and they were so excited and unweary. We did the hallway ( oh it looks so good!) we then went upstairs and started on Seth's room....it was late and I really just wanted to have Jordan put up the high stuff, the ceiling stuff, the boys escaped from the lounge and came upstairs, all 6 hands and 6 feet and 3 mouths and 30 fingers, we sent them back down explaining that tomorrow they could join in, Seth stayed behind and picked up the large blacklight and in seconds it smashed, all over the floor and with it so did my composure, patience, temper. In the most spectacular and horrifying way.
I often yell, no-one blinks or even takes much notice.
This evening was so much more than yelling, it was, well I don't even know what it was, apart from shameful and draining.
I hate it when that happens, it isn't even satisfying in that the tension is released because they dreadful feeling of shame fills the gap so perfectly.
H, bless his heart, came upstairs and quietly said " Ok, that's enough, let me move this out of your way" and took out the iMac that is in Seth's room ( wonder if he heard the smashing, followed by the screaming and thought I had smashed the lamp in my temper)
There is nothing that will stop a tantrum in it's tracks quicker than a quietly spoken, non judgemental word. Had H stormed in and started berating me for my totally unacceptable behaviour, he would have got a piece of it all for himself. The fact that he gently said " that's enough and let me move this out of your way" killed my outrage dead. I sat down on Seth's bed and just deflated, hypothetically that is, if only I had literally deflated too, shame things don't work out that way isn't it?
I slumped and I told Jordan and Mel that it was probably best if we left the rest for another day ( other days are becoming frighteningly scarce now though, will have to do a lot tomorrow!)
I have been sitting here all evening with my stiff and painful neck and feeling sorry for those who had to witness such a spectacle, Seth is unfazed by the whole episode, he's a tough nut that boy.
I shall take pictures when this house is all partified and ready, I shall take more pictures when it is filled to bursting with people and I shall breathe a sigh of relief when it is over and done for another year. I love that we do this every year, I also feel every year, right about this time, that I am completely out of my tiny mind for ever suggesting it!
Actually whatever my deal is is almost certainly in my head because on the face of it, all is hunky dory. Obviously my head knows something the rest of me hasn't discovered yet because I am, quite frankly, a total cow at the moment.
I am jumpy and nervous and oh, I am so ANGRY.
The preparations for the party are going really well, we started early and so we can take our time and do things at our leisure, which is great isn't it? Well it would be but there is no school this week and so everything I do, there are 3 little boys here undoing it or 'helping' or not even pretending to help, they are HERE and they are touching and moving and dropping and breaking and losing and just TOUCHING. Oh the touching.
I know they are little boys and there are so many exciting things around, we don't do things by halves and so we have many, many props and decorations, I am 47 and when I look through the boxes I squeal and exclaim and I am so excited by the plans of what to do this year with everything, how much more exciting it must be for little boys and because we brought all the boxes down from the loft on monday there has been an enormous amount of touching and squealing and fighting with bloody plastic daggers and glow in the dark machetes.
Elijah seems to have a knack, oft mentioned before and as yet still not grown out of, of being able to merely walk into a room and have everything fall apart around him, Oh look! Eli is just standing there and yet all those decorations fell off the wall, whoops a drink is there and Eli is there and ...oh never mind, we'll clean it up.
H has been more quiet than ever this week, barely a word has passed his lips and all the while he is cleaning and tidying and doing all those dreary things that need doing even when there is a party to prepare for, he has cleaned cupboards, inside and out, he has cleared the yard and scrubbed it, he has worked and worked while I have fussed and shopped and fussed some more.
He won't touch a single thing to do with the party, until after the party when he will clean it all away and take down and pack up. He is splendid and worth having around I tell you.
This evening Jordan and Mel came around to help with all the high up stuff, I love to see how enthusiastic they are, I have grand ideas on what to do but when it comes to actually doing it, I feel all overwhelmed and weary, Jordan and Mel came over and they did everything I imagined and more and they were so excited and unweary. We did the hallway ( oh it looks so good!) we then went upstairs and started on Seth's room....it was late and I really just wanted to have Jordan put up the high stuff, the ceiling stuff, the boys escaped from the lounge and came upstairs, all 6 hands and 6 feet and 3 mouths and 30 fingers, we sent them back down explaining that tomorrow they could join in, Seth stayed behind and picked up the large blacklight and in seconds it smashed, all over the floor and with it so did my composure, patience, temper. In the most spectacular and horrifying way.
I often yell, no-one blinks or even takes much notice.
This evening was so much more than yelling, it was, well I don't even know what it was, apart from shameful and draining.
I hate it when that happens, it isn't even satisfying in that the tension is released because they dreadful feeling of shame fills the gap so perfectly.
H, bless his heart, came upstairs and quietly said " Ok, that's enough, let me move this out of your way" and took out the iMac that is in Seth's room ( wonder if he heard the smashing, followed by the screaming and thought I had smashed the lamp in my temper)
There is nothing that will stop a tantrum in it's tracks quicker than a quietly spoken, non judgemental word. Had H stormed in and started berating me for my totally unacceptable behaviour, he would have got a piece of it all for himself. The fact that he gently said " that's enough and let me move this out of your way" killed my outrage dead. I sat down on Seth's bed and just deflated, hypothetically that is, if only I had literally deflated too, shame things don't work out that way isn't it?
I slumped and I told Jordan and Mel that it was probably best if we left the rest for another day ( other days are becoming frighteningly scarce now though, will have to do a lot tomorrow!)
I have been sitting here all evening with my stiff and painful neck and feeling sorry for those who had to witness such a spectacle, Seth is unfazed by the whole episode, he's a tough nut that boy.
I shall take pictures when this house is all partified and ready, I shall take more pictures when it is filled to bursting with people and I shall breathe a sigh of relief when it is over and done for another year. I love that we do this every year, I also feel every year, right about this time, that I am completely out of my tiny mind for ever suggesting it!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
All is well, all is well.
As I get older, or wiser or more embarrassed about my mind, I speak less and less about how I feel, I even think less about how I feel, choosing, rather, to just get on with it and say 'all is well.'
It is, of course, well. It is, life is well. People are well and happy and I am aware that I am blessed and lucky.
I can sit and think and see that I have much to be happy about and I am, indeed happy about much.
This is a good post isn't it, all flowy and funny and making such sense, it is days like this that make me so glad I keep a blog.
Any minute now I will work out what I want to say and gosh darn it ( do you like that? It's sunday, I always try harder on sunday not to swear and usually I manage pretty well, of course, if I open the laundry door and see a big fat MOUSE, that effort is all for nought but I'm sure the Lord understands and tries to let it go.) just as soon as I do work out what to say I will jolly well say it.
The more I try to be cheery, the more the misery seems to take hold.
Bizarre isn't it that your body will do what it chooses to do despite your head trying every trick in the book to tel it to shut up?
I truly don't believe I am sad, I don't. I can't think of a single reason why I would think to be sad.
I am, however incessantly anxious. About everything. Even though I am so MAD at being anxious and even though I am damned sure I won't let this feeling beat me, I go through the motions of bloody well doing what I want to do and NOT giving in, it is actually winning. That makes me so furious, I can't tell you how furious.
I don't talk about how I am feeling, I don't tell H, or anyone because I can't stand it myself, I am annoyed with myself never mind allowing others in on my miserable secret.
I am the least tolerant person when it comes to depression, when I see anyone overwhelmed by it and hear that they have given in to the staring at a wall and not moving longing side to this infuriating and disabling affliction, I am of the 'pull yourself together camp' I KNOW how hard it is to carry on, I understand how overpowering the need to shut off and stop thinking can be and I puff myself up and tell myself how much better I am than they, because I keep going and I don't allow anyone to see just how awful I am feeling, except who am I kidding? I like to think no-one knows what I am feeling and perhaps they don't, I suspect that makes it worse, I wonder if the people around me are looking at me and wondering WHAT THE HELL???
I'm only writing this now, this disjointed ramble of stupidity because I woke up, just now, after a lovely sunday afternoon nap, thinking I was dying.
I woke up and couldn't breathe, was sweating and gasping for breath and was sure I couldn't BREATHE, oh the terror. Panic attacks are bad enough when you feel them coming, when that prickling terror begins at the centre of your very soul and builds until the world comes crashing down, when I feel that happening, I can usually talk myself out of it, when it happens while I sleep, there is nothing I can do. It is by far the most terrifying feeling, I woke up and was grasping at the sheet, trying to get some breath into my body and just stop, that's usually what I say to myself, stop, stop fighting, think, breathe and stop and breathe and you are not dying, look, in fact you ARE breathing, in, out, in out, keep doing that. So I do.
All of this year has been anxious, for no reason that I can fathom, I just have been more panicky and worried, how many times did I say that HA! Imagine getting on a plane feeling like THIS! Yes, that will never happen! Whooo, not THAT stupid, even I know my own limitations and shutting myself in a metal box and sitting in there for many hours is asking way too much of my stupid panic attacky self.
I didn't listen though, did I? Not even to myself, of course if anyone else had dared to say to me "Helen, don't do it, please don't push yourself *that* far, it doesn't matter, if you think flying is too much to ask right now, it probably is" I would have, in my own bloody minded way, have stuck a metaphorical finger up and said " Oh yeah? Watch me! You're not the boss of ME!"
Only I could be so stupid as to dare myself!
On the way to the airport I was so terrified, so overwhelmed with terror that I was speechless, apart from saying " Please Dan, please drive slower" or " Oh please don't" as he went to overtake another car, I was unable to speak or even breathe more than a shallow little huff and puff. I spent the 4-5 hours talking to myself, telling myself how foolish this was and how look, how may times have you done this and it has been OK? And then thinking of H and the little boys, thinking how, if I died they would be left with the feeling that I died leaving them to just have fun, to do nothing more than please myself. I weighed up how awful it would be to just stay home, to send Sophie and just not go, I thought how disappointed my friend would be if I did that.
I was stupid and show offy in shouting about the trip, once I did that it turned from being a visit with Cathy to a big old get together with people I didn't know...one of my biggest panic triggers, as I heard of more people joining in I became more and more worried and grumpy, cross that I had opened my mouth and allowed this to happen, feeling terror at the idea of people seeing me and having to be funny and witty and everything people think I am.
I wasn't funny, or witty or anything. I seemed unable to be anything but upright and breathing. When I was there I felt as though I was walking through treacle, just trying not to be a weeping stupid mess.
As the time to come home came closer I think I cheered up, I know that when it was just Sophie, Cathy and I, I felt better, that's not to say that anyone who came had made me miserable, I was making myself miserable, me and my people fearing panic attacks. Sophie was my saving grace, I hid behind her effusive and outrageous persona, I adored her every loud moment, she was the center of attention and I was able to hide in her shadow, she is divine and I don't think I will ever tire of saying that, of spouting how glorious she is, how much I love her. We had a splendid time in the hotel room, watching movies and running outside with the fire alarms, making sure we could fit all the loot into the suitcases, I love that I have the chance to do this with her, or to have done that with her because I am pretty sure I won't be doing it again.
Flying home is never as frightening to me, I think there are several reasons for that, one is that if I die on the way home my family will always be thinking " she died coming back to us" ( and we won't think of the fact that they might also think "selfish cow shouldn't have left us in the first place, however...at least she was coming home") Also, I know that waiting for me will be the people who know me best, the ones who love me the best and I am excited to be with them without feeling that they will gasp at how fat I am or how old I am. ( why do I feel that all the way through this post I should keep writing disclaimers? Let's do one and be done with it. * I am not saying that anyone in Boston would EVER say or think these things, I adore my friends, I know they love me, every worry I have is in MY HEAD*, imaginary or not, it's what I think and feel and is the reason I said I would not be getting on a plane again, will someone remind me should I ever get above myself again and decide that this is a good idea, please?)
When I came home, I didn't seem to get jet-lag, I was tired for 2 or 3 days and then I was all better, better that is, apart from the need to hide or hibernate, to shut myself away and not talk or look at people, to just be. Quietly be.
One thing about living with H is that I don't need to talk and I'm not sure that is a good thing, it would be easy to go days without saying anything of any import, so depression is easy, I can say all the day to day things like " get your lunch box" and " who peed on the seat AGAIN?" and not ever voice a single thing that matters, which means I don't burden anyone with how I am feeling but whatever I am feeling builds up inside until it explodes in a spectacular panic attack. It has been building for a few days, while I sit and write or read or watch TV my heart will pound and I have to talk myself through breathing and then I am calm and I get through another day.
After I woke in the midst of a panic attack, I calmed down, made myself see that I was not dying, I went into the kitchen and started dinner, H walked in and as I looked at him, it all came out, the snot crying and the guilt that I had left him and the boys just to have fun and the fear of what if I had died and maybe wasting such a lovely treat by not loving every second of it, I'm not sure he even heard what I was saying because the gasping for breath and the hysterics, the burbling and hiccuping and all that emotion....but it didn't matter because he just said " Oh" with such love and he patted my back and said " Oh" again and I knew, in a second that all is well.
He doesn't think I am the worlds worst wife and mother for flying to Boston and having fun, he doesn't think I am useless or stupid and he doesn't care if I fall into a heap in the kitchen and wail about all the hopeless feelings I can't even explain. He just loves me and he doesn't even have to say it for me to know.
All is well.
It is, of course, well. It is, life is well. People are well and happy and I am aware that I am blessed and lucky.
I can sit and think and see that I have much to be happy about and I am, indeed happy about much.
This is a good post isn't it, all flowy and funny and making such sense, it is days like this that make me so glad I keep a blog.
Any minute now I will work out what I want to say and gosh darn it ( do you like that? It's sunday, I always try harder on sunday not to swear and usually I manage pretty well, of course, if I open the laundry door and see a big fat MOUSE, that effort is all for nought but I'm sure the Lord understands and tries to let it go.) just as soon as I do work out what to say I will jolly well say it.
The more I try to be cheery, the more the misery seems to take hold.
Bizarre isn't it that your body will do what it chooses to do despite your head trying every trick in the book to tel it to shut up?
I truly don't believe I am sad, I don't. I can't think of a single reason why I would think to be sad.
I am, however incessantly anxious. About everything. Even though I am so MAD at being anxious and even though I am damned sure I won't let this feeling beat me, I go through the motions of bloody well doing what I want to do and NOT giving in, it is actually winning. That makes me so furious, I can't tell you how furious.
I don't talk about how I am feeling, I don't tell H, or anyone because I can't stand it myself, I am annoyed with myself never mind allowing others in on my miserable secret.
I am the least tolerant person when it comes to depression, when I see anyone overwhelmed by it and hear that they have given in to the staring at a wall and not moving longing side to this infuriating and disabling affliction, I am of the 'pull yourself together camp' I KNOW how hard it is to carry on, I understand how overpowering the need to shut off and stop thinking can be and I puff myself up and tell myself how much better I am than they, because I keep going and I don't allow anyone to see just how awful I am feeling, except who am I kidding? I like to think no-one knows what I am feeling and perhaps they don't, I suspect that makes it worse, I wonder if the people around me are looking at me and wondering WHAT THE HELL???
I'm only writing this now, this disjointed ramble of stupidity because I woke up, just now, after a lovely sunday afternoon nap, thinking I was dying.
I woke up and couldn't breathe, was sweating and gasping for breath and was sure I couldn't BREATHE, oh the terror. Panic attacks are bad enough when you feel them coming, when that prickling terror begins at the centre of your very soul and builds until the world comes crashing down, when I feel that happening, I can usually talk myself out of it, when it happens while I sleep, there is nothing I can do. It is by far the most terrifying feeling, I woke up and was grasping at the sheet, trying to get some breath into my body and just stop, that's usually what I say to myself, stop, stop fighting, think, breathe and stop and breathe and you are not dying, look, in fact you ARE breathing, in, out, in out, keep doing that. So I do.
All of this year has been anxious, for no reason that I can fathom, I just have been more panicky and worried, how many times did I say that HA! Imagine getting on a plane feeling like THIS! Yes, that will never happen! Whooo, not THAT stupid, even I know my own limitations and shutting myself in a metal box and sitting in there for many hours is asking way too much of my stupid panic attacky self.
I didn't listen though, did I? Not even to myself, of course if anyone else had dared to say to me "Helen, don't do it, please don't push yourself *that* far, it doesn't matter, if you think flying is too much to ask right now, it probably is" I would have, in my own bloody minded way, have stuck a metaphorical finger up and said " Oh yeah? Watch me! You're not the boss of ME!"
Only I could be so stupid as to dare myself!
On the way to the airport I was so terrified, so overwhelmed with terror that I was speechless, apart from saying " Please Dan, please drive slower" or " Oh please don't" as he went to overtake another car, I was unable to speak or even breathe more than a shallow little huff and puff. I spent the 4-5 hours talking to myself, telling myself how foolish this was and how look, how may times have you done this and it has been OK? And then thinking of H and the little boys, thinking how, if I died they would be left with the feeling that I died leaving them to just have fun, to do nothing more than please myself. I weighed up how awful it would be to just stay home, to send Sophie and just not go, I thought how disappointed my friend would be if I did that.
I was stupid and show offy in shouting about the trip, once I did that it turned from being a visit with Cathy to a big old get together with people I didn't know...one of my biggest panic triggers, as I heard of more people joining in I became more and more worried and grumpy, cross that I had opened my mouth and allowed this to happen, feeling terror at the idea of people seeing me and having to be funny and witty and everything people think I am.
I wasn't funny, or witty or anything. I seemed unable to be anything but upright and breathing. When I was there I felt as though I was walking through treacle, just trying not to be a weeping stupid mess.
As the time to come home came closer I think I cheered up, I know that when it was just Sophie, Cathy and I, I felt better, that's not to say that anyone who came had made me miserable, I was making myself miserable, me and my people fearing panic attacks. Sophie was my saving grace, I hid behind her effusive and outrageous persona, I adored her every loud moment, she was the center of attention and I was able to hide in her shadow, she is divine and I don't think I will ever tire of saying that, of spouting how glorious she is, how much I love her. We had a splendid time in the hotel room, watching movies and running outside with the fire alarms, making sure we could fit all the loot into the suitcases, I love that I have the chance to do this with her, or to have done that with her because I am pretty sure I won't be doing it again.
Flying home is never as frightening to me, I think there are several reasons for that, one is that if I die on the way home my family will always be thinking " she died coming back to us" ( and we won't think of the fact that they might also think "selfish cow shouldn't have left us in the first place, however...at least she was coming home") Also, I know that waiting for me will be the people who know me best, the ones who love me the best and I am excited to be with them without feeling that they will gasp at how fat I am or how old I am. ( why do I feel that all the way through this post I should keep writing disclaimers? Let's do one and be done with it. * I am not saying that anyone in Boston would EVER say or think these things, I adore my friends, I know they love me, every worry I have is in MY HEAD*, imaginary or not, it's what I think and feel and is the reason I said I would not be getting on a plane again, will someone remind me should I ever get above myself again and decide that this is a good idea, please?)
When I came home, I didn't seem to get jet-lag, I was tired for 2 or 3 days and then I was all better, better that is, apart from the need to hide or hibernate, to shut myself away and not talk or look at people, to just be. Quietly be.
One thing about living with H is that I don't need to talk and I'm not sure that is a good thing, it would be easy to go days without saying anything of any import, so depression is easy, I can say all the day to day things like " get your lunch box" and " who peed on the seat AGAIN?" and not ever voice a single thing that matters, which means I don't burden anyone with how I am feeling but whatever I am feeling builds up inside until it explodes in a spectacular panic attack. It has been building for a few days, while I sit and write or read or watch TV my heart will pound and I have to talk myself through breathing and then I am calm and I get through another day.
After I woke in the midst of a panic attack, I calmed down, made myself see that I was not dying, I went into the kitchen and started dinner, H walked in and as I looked at him, it all came out, the snot crying and the guilt that I had left him and the boys just to have fun and the fear of what if I had died and maybe wasting such a lovely treat by not loving every second of it, I'm not sure he even heard what I was saying because the gasping for breath and the hysterics, the burbling and hiccuping and all that emotion....but it didn't matter because he just said " Oh" with such love and he patted my back and said " Oh" again and I knew, in a second that all is well.
He doesn't think I am the worlds worst wife and mother for flying to Boston and having fun, he doesn't think I am useless or stupid and he doesn't care if I fall into a heap in the kitchen and wail about all the hopeless feelings I can't even explain. He just loves me and he doesn't even have to say it for me to know.
All is well.
Labels: H and me.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Fun and other stuff.
When I wrote that last post, did I make it sound as though I was taking a break? Sorry about that, I was just berating the fact that I am boring myself, I didn't for a moment mean I was about to stop boring myself. In actual fact, not 20 minutes after I posted I came back because I thought of something to say, I typed for ever and a moment and I tell you, I was hysterical! Oh I waxed lyrical and explained all about the parent teacher appointments we had, just as I was about to hit 'post' Internet Explorer died, when it came back, the post was gone, the first part was saved, the best part? Gone for ever. Sad, because oh it was so funny! One of my best, naturally!
I'm not sure I can stand to write it all again, though I should because I know when these boys are all old and uncommunicative, grunting monosyllabic answers to my inquiries about their days I might want to look back on these days, where their teachers are so thrilled with them and remember just how these days are.
Seth, well we all know he is smart and this new teacher knows it too, the marvellous thing is, she isn't quite as bowled over by him, don't get me wrong, she is impressed and she is completely enamoured of his sweetness ( because he is incredibly sweet with his teachers) and she had only great things to say about him but she also listened to us, usually his teachers don't listen to us because they are so busy saying how clever he is. This time, I was thrilled when she listened to us and then asked " do you think there is more in there that he isn't sharing?" Oh there is SO much more to Seth, he is inordinately lazy and he does just enough work to impress and get by, she did say that his writing and presentation is lacking ( heh, he works so quickly because there is STUFF TO DO! Must get STUFF DONE! Funny because he actually does not ever hurry for anyone else but himself, he is always last ready every day, always the last out of the house when we go anywhere, always 'just doing' something so that we wait, and we wait.)
He is funny and polite and hard working and clever, also kind and friendly. Splendid.
Isaac, oh my Isaac, whenever I write or talk about Isaac it seems obligatory to say Isaac, Oh my Isaac, just like that because he is just my heart. He sat in with us as we spoke to his new teacher and he sat opposite her and he never took his eyes off her face. I watched her watching him and I knew that she loves him, I could also see that he trusts her and I suspect that this year, she will manage to get him to do things he has never tried before.
She told us his results of reading and spelling and comprehension testing, as did Seth's teacher and they are both at the same level, for reading they are at the level expected of an 11 year and 3 month old child, spelling and comprehension they are both at 13 years and 2 months, which is pretty impressive, if you ask me, even if you don't ask me, it is pretty impressive.
Isaac is very conscientious, he works hard and writes beautifully but the content of what he writes, unless it is factual and answering specific questions, is lacking, bless his heart he is not a story teller.
Elijah Henry, aged 6 years and 3 months, is quiet, in fact worryingly quiet we are told and his teacher says that she has no idea what his likes and dislikes are and she has no idea of any opinions he might have. Oh dear.
She did ask him what he thinks of year 2 and he replied " It's brilliant" and she asked if he had any worries and he said "Yeth, I do"
"Oh Eli, what are they? Can I help?"
"No, It'th OK now becoth my lizard was lotht and now he came back but that wath definitely a worry"
Bloody thing escpaed again today, I swear if I wake up with that thing on my face I will not recover.
I say " Oh dear" when speaking of Eli's teacher and her lack of knowledge regarding his opinions on anything because I suspect he hasn't any and that would be because of me.
Elijah is a divine lump of carefree nonsense. He could care less if he wears Seth's shoes to school, in fact he tries to do that as often as he can get away with it. He will wear odd socks, eat breakfast for dinner, he wears mismatched pyjamas, clothes that look like he specifically planned to look as though he was determined to wear as many colours as he could find.
He spills things and says " Oh, never mind"
He eats what he is given and he doesn't care what time he is given it.
Last year we noticed, horror or horrors that he was beginning to say things like " I don't like" and " I don't want to" he would state a preference for certain clothing and in my panic that there goes my one and only non freaky, not uptight, carefree and hippylike soul, I found myself saying " Oh no! You DON'T like that" or " Nuh uh! You don't mind AT ALL" and I think that he must have given in, without any fight, just sighed in his little heart and decided that he probably didn't care at all.
I adore this little man, with his chimney sweep brush hair and his big ears, I hate to think I might have stunted his personality in anyway and so I have been making an effort to ask him what he likes and how he likes things, seems he actually doesn't seem to care, he really is quite happy to flop about and take what comes his way. I do think though that he is beginning to feel as though he isn't up to scratch and he needs an incredible amount of praise for the slightest thing he does. That is no hardship at all because every smidgen of praise is so gratefully accepted and his little face lights up, always so eager to please he is probably the most affable of my children.
He is very keen to be a boy witch for Halloween, not a wizard you understand but a boy witch and so a Boy witch he shall be, I bought his costume today and he looks divine, though grumpy in it, I hope that he will be happier on the day.
We are in full speed ahead for our annual Halloween party, this year I have planned and am ready for the invasion, we are prepared and looking forward to a really great party, I can't wait to get started decorating. The boys have next week off school so we are going to be taking all week to make the house ready for 6.30 on saturday 31st Oct.
Bring it on.
I'm not sure I can stand to write it all again, though I should because I know when these boys are all old and uncommunicative, grunting monosyllabic answers to my inquiries about their days I might want to look back on these days, where their teachers are so thrilled with them and remember just how these days are.
Seth, well we all know he is smart and this new teacher knows it too, the marvellous thing is, she isn't quite as bowled over by him, don't get me wrong, she is impressed and she is completely enamoured of his sweetness ( because he is incredibly sweet with his teachers) and she had only great things to say about him but she also listened to us, usually his teachers don't listen to us because they are so busy saying how clever he is. This time, I was thrilled when she listened to us and then asked " do you think there is more in there that he isn't sharing?" Oh there is SO much more to Seth, he is inordinately lazy and he does just enough work to impress and get by, she did say that his writing and presentation is lacking ( heh, he works so quickly because there is STUFF TO DO! Must get STUFF DONE! Funny because he actually does not ever hurry for anyone else but himself, he is always last ready every day, always the last out of the house when we go anywhere, always 'just doing' something so that we wait, and we wait.)
He is funny and polite and hard working and clever, also kind and friendly. Splendid.
Isaac, oh my Isaac, whenever I write or talk about Isaac it seems obligatory to say Isaac, Oh my Isaac, just like that because he is just my heart. He sat in with us as we spoke to his new teacher and he sat opposite her and he never took his eyes off her face. I watched her watching him and I knew that she loves him, I could also see that he trusts her and I suspect that this year, she will manage to get him to do things he has never tried before.
She told us his results of reading and spelling and comprehension testing, as did Seth's teacher and they are both at the same level, for reading they are at the level expected of an 11 year and 3 month old child, spelling and comprehension they are both at 13 years and 2 months, which is pretty impressive, if you ask me, even if you don't ask me, it is pretty impressive.
Isaac is very conscientious, he works hard and writes beautifully but the content of what he writes, unless it is factual and answering specific questions, is lacking, bless his heart he is not a story teller.
Elijah Henry, aged 6 years and 3 months, is quiet, in fact worryingly quiet we are told and his teacher says that she has no idea what his likes and dislikes are and she has no idea of any opinions he might have. Oh dear.
She did ask him what he thinks of year 2 and he replied " It's brilliant" and she asked if he had any worries and he said "Yeth, I do"
"Oh Eli, what are they? Can I help?"
"No, It'th OK now becoth my lizard was lotht and now he came back but that wath definitely a worry"
Bloody thing escpaed again today, I swear if I wake up with that thing on my face I will not recover.
I say " Oh dear" when speaking of Eli's teacher and her lack of knowledge regarding his opinions on anything because I suspect he hasn't any and that would be because of me.
Elijah is a divine lump of carefree nonsense. He could care less if he wears Seth's shoes to school, in fact he tries to do that as often as he can get away with it. He will wear odd socks, eat breakfast for dinner, he wears mismatched pyjamas, clothes that look like he specifically planned to look as though he was determined to wear as many colours as he could find.
He spills things and says " Oh, never mind"
He eats what he is given and he doesn't care what time he is given it.
Last year we noticed, horror or horrors that he was beginning to say things like " I don't like" and " I don't want to" he would state a preference for certain clothing and in my panic that there goes my one and only non freaky, not uptight, carefree and hippylike soul, I found myself saying " Oh no! You DON'T like that" or " Nuh uh! You don't mind AT ALL" and I think that he must have given in, without any fight, just sighed in his little heart and decided that he probably didn't care at all.
I adore this little man, with his chimney sweep brush hair and his big ears, I hate to think I might have stunted his personality in anyway and so I have been making an effort to ask him what he likes and how he likes things, seems he actually doesn't seem to care, he really is quite happy to flop about and take what comes his way. I do think though that he is beginning to feel as though he isn't up to scratch and he needs an incredible amount of praise for the slightest thing he does. That is no hardship at all because every smidgen of praise is so gratefully accepted and his little face lights up, always so eager to please he is probably the most affable of my children.
He is very keen to be a boy witch for Halloween, not a wizard you understand but a boy witch and so a Boy witch he shall be, I bought his costume today and he looks divine, though grumpy in it, I hope that he will be happier on the day.
We are in full speed ahead for our annual Halloween party, this year I have planned and am ready for the invasion, we are prepared and looking forward to a really great party, I can't wait to get started decorating. The boys have next week off school so we are going to be taking all week to make the house ready for 6.30 on saturday 31st Oct.
Bring it on.
Labels: Isaac and Elijah, Seth
Friday, October 16, 2009
Yes, this again.
Every so often, out of the blue I go through a 'Meh' phase about my blog and I tell myself to just stop it already and leave the poor internets alone with my whining and whittering on about nothing in particular. Sometimes I have such great stuff to write and I sit here and it's all so hard, such an effort, so boooooooring to me to tell myself what I just did. Sometimes I make myself laugh ( which in turn makes me laugh because really, it's sad isn't it, you know when you sit down to write all about your terrible day and somehow when it's written down it is so tragically hilarious I can't help but laugh, sometimes I just laugh because I find myself so hilarious what else would I do? Oh how I wish I could see other people laughing at, no, with, me.)
I am sort of understanding 'Twitter' not in a "I do that and love it kind of way" but in an " Aha! That's why they do it" kind of way. So far I have gathered Twitter is all about posting links to your blog so more people will read it ( and I have not done that, EVER, because a) I don't know how to post links and b) it annoys the very crap out of me when everyone else does it. It is SO self serving to just say " Hey look linkylink to ME" Also, people on Twitter are not their real selves, they are either super happy and cheery and annoying or so unbelievably aggressive that my bowels often turn to water just reading their MoFo Tweet.
What is it about that that normally reasonable women feel obliged to use the M F*er words every time they tweet? Good grief, calm down people, nothing is that awful, really. So, I see why people do it but I really don't get the addiction to it, at all. I see that celebrities have Twitter pages and it is sort of fun to see what they tell the world, I don't believe for a moment though that give a tinker's cuss to hear what any of us have planned for the day.
So, I get bored with writing here and it's a good job I am not in it for adulation because let's face it, if it weren't for Google I wouldn't really have clue if anyone even reads this anymore, I do find it annoying that some people can post about changing a blow out diaper and get 39873 comments and others ( me) can lay it all on the line and get 6, on a good day. Comments are splendid but I have to say that as much as I love them, if that is the reason I wrote, I would have stopped a very long time ago.
I do this because I love reading it years later.
I have always written journals and I have always loved to look back and see just what I was thinking way back when.
I found my journals from way back when I met H online 2 weeks ago and I am so enjoying reading them. I pretty much got him pegged right off, amazing to read about how awful he was to me when I went to meet him the first time and yet I still went back and married him. I am glad that my heart knew what my head didn't quite believe and my heart won.
I love to go back a year, 2 years and see what I was doing this time, then.
I love to see what my children were doing and see pictures of how they looked then.
I wish I could enjoy writing about it a bit more because lately, when I read what I write I am SO BORED. I don't laugh at myself, I seem to just write the facts and get out of here.
Maybe it will come back, my ability to amuse myself by writing about my day. I hope so, it's a lovely thing to have and I miss it.
If it does come back I am sure you'll notice and I shall be sure to write hilarious daily entries and you will all be totally unable to read and leave without commenting on my wit.
Until then, too bad, this is it. Over and out. Pthhhhhhhhh.
I am sort of understanding 'Twitter' not in a "I do that and love it kind of way" but in an " Aha! That's why they do it" kind of way. So far I have gathered Twitter is all about posting links to your blog so more people will read it ( and I have not done that, EVER, because a) I don't know how to post links and b) it annoys the very crap out of me when everyone else does it. It is SO self serving to just say " Hey look linkylink to ME" Also, people on Twitter are not their real selves, they are either super happy and cheery and annoying or so unbelievably aggressive that my bowels often turn to water just reading their MoFo Tweet.
What is it about that that normally reasonable women feel obliged to use the M F*er words every time they tweet? Good grief, calm down people, nothing is that awful, really. So, I see why people do it but I really don't get the addiction to it, at all. I see that celebrities have Twitter pages and it is sort of fun to see what they tell the world, I don't believe for a moment though that give a tinker's cuss to hear what any of us have planned for the day.
So, I get bored with writing here and it's a good job I am not in it for adulation because let's face it, if it weren't for Google I wouldn't really have clue if anyone even reads this anymore, I do find it annoying that some people can post about changing a blow out diaper and get 39873 comments and others ( me) can lay it all on the line and get 6, on a good day. Comments are splendid but I have to say that as much as I love them, if that is the reason I wrote, I would have stopped a very long time ago.
I do this because I love reading it years later.
I have always written journals and I have always loved to look back and see just what I was thinking way back when.
I found my journals from way back when I met H online 2 weeks ago and I am so enjoying reading them. I pretty much got him pegged right off, amazing to read about how awful he was to me when I went to meet him the first time and yet I still went back and married him. I am glad that my heart knew what my head didn't quite believe and my heart won.
I love to go back a year, 2 years and see what I was doing this time, then.
I love to see what my children were doing and see pictures of how they looked then.
I wish I could enjoy writing about it a bit more because lately, when I read what I write I am SO BORED. I don't laugh at myself, I seem to just write the facts and get out of here.
Maybe it will come back, my ability to amuse myself by writing about my day. I hope so, it's a lovely thing to have and I miss it.
If it does come back I am sure you'll notice and I shall be sure to write hilarious daily entries and you will all be totally unable to read and leave without commenting on my wit.
Until then, too bad, this is it. Over and out. Pthhhhhhhhh.
Labels: Bored
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
For some people, it is all so effortless.
The first one is one of those people. No matter what he does, he manages to do it all so spectacularly wrong, screwing it all up as royally as it is possible to screw. Sometimes even making headline news while as he goes. ( and not in a 'I must send this newspaper to ALL my friends and family because I am just so PROUD way, having said that, he did, in fact send me the newspaper he was in, when he beat the living daylights out of his girlfriend, in front of his young son, right as an off duty policeman walked by, because to him, no publicity is bad publicity and LOOK! AM IN THE PAPER! " He was suspended from his job as a prison officer on full pay for a year for that nugget, which was not his fault of course, she MADE him do it)
It is a very long time since he has managed to incur a heart thumping rage in me, for many years he has been nothing but a slightly embarrassing hiccup in my growing up years. He gave me 3 glorious children and then went merrily on his way, neither helping nor hindering my efforts to raise happy, responsible adults. I take that back, he certainly did hinder my efforts where Sophie is concerned, he played with her little mind and damaged her tender soul in a relentless barrage of uselessness.
He has been married again since our divorce, to a lovely woman, who bore him another son, lived with him for several years and eventually, they married, two months after he married her, he left her, for someone else, you know, who understood him. He said he married the 2nd one because 'she wanted him to marry her' and he didn't know how to say no.
It is a miracle that somehow, my 3 children from this man have managed to avoid the terminally stupid gene that is so prominent in him. They did get the funny gene and the good looking gene, praise the Lord ( and that is not said in a flippant, blasphemous way I hasten to add) they missed the idiot gene. I think he owns that one outright.
For several glorious years, he has been absent from our lives, when he has a new girlfriend, he pops up out of the woodwork and invites them to stay so he can fleetingly give off an impression of a caring and involved Father, sadly, when the kids are with him, there is always a stunned and uncomfortable silence, one that is only broken by Daniel belching or Jordan swearing, Sophie, the last time she saw him, hid under cushions on Jordan's sofa, in a fetal position, when she was coaxed out she became a hissing, spitting, swearing embarrassment to all around her. Bless her sore heart.
He surfaced briefly when Joshua was born, 'Grandad' he came to visit, with grand gifts ( which made me cry because I had no money to buy anything BIG and SHINY at the time, no matter I realised after a short pity party, I helped that boy enter the world, saw him take his first breath, no frippery will ever surpass that blessing)
He came and took photos of himself kissing his grandson and then he left.
Joshua is now 16 months old and wouldn't know 'grandad' if he stood up in his soup.
So, then he popped up again, to say he had a new girlfriend and he was moving in with her and wasn't SHE lucky? The usual invite to the children arrived, always a place for you in my ( her) home, he said. "Ha!" They said, "thanks for that."
This summer, Dan, Jordan and and Mel took him up on his offer and they went to visit the new woman and the old git, in their home. The girlfriend, it seems, is not a fiancee and she decided that she wasn't really interested in his children, these adults, that appeared out of nowhere and who look very much like her love. She sat in a different room and when forced to breathe the same air, sat sullenly without speaking.
So, the first one is taking a 3rd one, another wife, 3rd time lucky......I doubt it.
Here's the kicker, he has chosen to get married just 2 weeks after Jordan and Mel. He is not helping financially with Jordan's wedding to Mel, I suspect that when the time comes he will even say he is too busy with his own wedding to attend his son's ( we can but hope anyway)
That's not all, his wedding is in a swanky hotel, he is insisting that his children stay at the hotel, at the cost of £200 a night, the reason for this is, that if all his guests stay at the hotel and pay £200 their wedding will be FREE, you know, cost them NOTHING.
There is also a dress code, everyone to wear, black or gold.
Today, a stupid note arrived, in handwriting that is not familiar to me ( which means his girlfriend wrote it) saying nothing more than " Keep Nov 6th free for when the first one marries the 3rd one who will rue the day she ever set eyes on him" That's it, Keep the day free.
Why should they? I can't imagine anyone on his side giving a monkey's nipple about attending yet another meaningless ceremony where this man promises to love, honour and cherish a woman, til death do them part, for the 3rd time. I certainly can't envision them all being happy to PAY for the pleasure.
My children are adults, they can decide for themselves whether or not they attend and I am pretty sure that because they are kind and honourable people, they will go and they will pay that extortionate fee for a room to stay in. Sophie is saying she won't go, he hasn't even given her the courtesy of actually telling her he is getting married, she read it on his Facebook page. I hope she doesn't go, I am certain if she goes she will be ignored and come away feeling even lower than he already makes her feel.
I am sure Daniel will go and hope that Jordan and Mel are too busy having a glorious time after their own wedding to bother about such an expensive and pointless journey.
I wish I could meet him in the street just so I could spit in his eye and tell him I wish him everything he deserves.
The marvellous thing is, I don't have to do, or say anything, he has his just rewards, his children scorn him, his grandbaby doesn't know him, he has nothing of worth that belongs to him. He has chase happiness all his life, whilst running away from the very things that would make him happy if he stopped trying to up the ante.
I have all the joy he threw away, I know all that...it's just that sometimes, just sometimes I would so love to look him in the eye and LAUGH. Just for the hell of it.
It is a very long time since he has managed to incur a heart thumping rage in me, for many years he has been nothing but a slightly embarrassing hiccup in my growing up years. He gave me 3 glorious children and then went merrily on his way, neither helping nor hindering my efforts to raise happy, responsible adults. I take that back, he certainly did hinder my efforts where Sophie is concerned, he played with her little mind and damaged her tender soul in a relentless barrage of uselessness.
He has been married again since our divorce, to a lovely woman, who bore him another son, lived with him for several years and eventually, they married, two months after he married her, he left her, for someone else, you know, who understood him. He said he married the 2nd one because 'she wanted him to marry her' and he didn't know how to say no.
It is a miracle that somehow, my 3 children from this man have managed to avoid the terminally stupid gene that is so prominent in him. They did get the funny gene and the good looking gene, praise the Lord ( and that is not said in a flippant, blasphemous way I hasten to add) they missed the idiot gene. I think he owns that one outright.
For several glorious years, he has been absent from our lives, when he has a new girlfriend, he pops up out of the woodwork and invites them to stay so he can fleetingly give off an impression of a caring and involved Father, sadly, when the kids are with him, there is always a stunned and uncomfortable silence, one that is only broken by Daniel belching or Jordan swearing, Sophie, the last time she saw him, hid under cushions on Jordan's sofa, in a fetal position, when she was coaxed out she became a hissing, spitting, swearing embarrassment to all around her. Bless her sore heart.
He surfaced briefly when Joshua was born, 'Grandad' he came to visit, with grand gifts ( which made me cry because I had no money to buy anything BIG and SHINY at the time, no matter I realised after a short pity party, I helped that boy enter the world, saw him take his first breath, no frippery will ever surpass that blessing)
He came and took photos of himself kissing his grandson and then he left.
Joshua is now 16 months old and wouldn't know 'grandad' if he stood up in his soup.
So, then he popped up again, to say he had a new girlfriend and he was moving in with her and wasn't SHE lucky? The usual invite to the children arrived, always a place for you in my ( her) home, he said. "Ha!" They said, "thanks for that."
This summer, Dan, Jordan and and Mel took him up on his offer and they went to visit the new woman and the old git, in their home. The girlfriend, it seems, is not a fiancee and she decided that she wasn't really interested in his children, these adults, that appeared out of nowhere and who look very much like her love. She sat in a different room and when forced to breathe the same air, sat sullenly without speaking.
So, the first one is taking a 3rd one, another wife, 3rd time lucky......I doubt it.
Here's the kicker, he has chosen to get married just 2 weeks after Jordan and Mel. He is not helping financially with Jordan's wedding to Mel, I suspect that when the time comes he will even say he is too busy with his own wedding to attend his son's ( we can but hope anyway)
That's not all, his wedding is in a swanky hotel, he is insisting that his children stay at the hotel, at the cost of £200 a night, the reason for this is, that if all his guests stay at the hotel and pay £200 their wedding will be FREE, you know, cost them NOTHING.
There is also a dress code, everyone to wear, black or gold.
Today, a stupid note arrived, in handwriting that is not familiar to me ( which means his girlfriend wrote it) saying nothing more than " Keep Nov 6th free for when the first one marries the 3rd one who will rue the day she ever set eyes on him" That's it, Keep the day free.
Why should they? I can't imagine anyone on his side giving a monkey's nipple about attending yet another meaningless ceremony where this man promises to love, honour and cherish a woman, til death do them part, for the 3rd time. I certainly can't envision them all being happy to PAY for the pleasure.
My children are adults, they can decide for themselves whether or not they attend and I am pretty sure that because they are kind and honourable people, they will go and they will pay that extortionate fee for a room to stay in. Sophie is saying she won't go, he hasn't even given her the courtesy of actually telling her he is getting married, she read it on his Facebook page. I hope she doesn't go, I am certain if she goes she will be ignored and come away feeling even lower than he already makes her feel.
I am sure Daniel will go and hope that Jordan and Mel are too busy having a glorious time after their own wedding to bother about such an expensive and pointless journey.
I wish I could meet him in the street just so I could spit in his eye and tell him I wish him everything he deserves.
The marvellous thing is, I don't have to do, or say anything, he has his just rewards, his children scorn him, his grandbaby doesn't know him, he has nothing of worth that belongs to him. He has chase happiness all his life, whilst running away from the very things that would make him happy if he stopped trying to up the ante.
I have all the joy he threw away, I know all that...it's just that sometimes, just sometimes I would so love to look him in the eye and LAUGH. Just for the hell of it.
Labels: meaningful thoughts, the first one.
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