Watching day.

It was watching day at dance class today, a mother's chance to sit in and see how her precious darling is doing in Mrs dance teachers class. Hopeless is how my darling is doing.
He is, of course divine. He adores the whole thing, and if enthusiasm and cuteness were factors, my boy would be the star of the class. He brought joy and smiles and I heard how edible he is, his dear legs just don't quite want to let him toe heel, tap and clap.
I cannot imagine what state I would be in should he ever be in any kind of production because, honestly I just have to look at those skinny legs in leggings, that little spider monkey face split in the biggest grin, watch those dear feet trying to get some kind of co-ordination going on and I am hopelessly lost to emotion.
He is quite good at the modern dance because it actually isn't really dancing, more running and skipping, rolling on the floor, wiggling toes and clapping. 3 year olds are good at that stuff.
I take my hat off to this teacher who saw her class falling into complete chaos because little people don't do well when mummy is in the room, at one stage it almost totally fell apart, circle time, yeay! everyone hold hands! Everyone did, Elijah held his right hand with a little girl, his left hand? Half of it up his nose...digging for victory, no half hearted attempt to clear his nasal passages, he meant business and in between digging he would hold out the hand and say "come on then!" as little girls took one look and scurried over to the child on the other end, therefore making a line, not a circle. The audience, small as it was, was pretty much in hysterics, I feigned indignation and said " What?? I can't imagine why no-one wants to hold my babies hand! What?! He's divine.......even his bogies are divine!"
Brave Mrs Teacher bridged the gap and held his bogie covered hand, she knows treasure when she sees it.
So, my dreams of a teeny tiny star of the stage took a bashing today but my heart took flight to see such unadulterated joy wearing tap shoes.
I wonder what makes people feel the urge to teach these little people to 'dance' what gives them so much patience to do it week after week and have to say over and over again
" sweetheart....shall we get off the windowsill and get in a line?"
" No....let's not hang off the rail..look it will fall off and hurt you"
" Quiet feet please"
All I know is, I am happy that there are people out there that choose to do it, so that mummies like me can sit and rub the goosepimples on their arms, wipe the tears from their eyes and thank their lucky stars that they can scrape together the fees every term to enable their babies to tap and stamp their way to glory.
2 weeks without dancing class, as the school is closed for the Easter holidays. I shall be sad when his legs go in the right direction ....another sign that the baby is leaving and he is growing up way too fast. So sweet to see him suck his thumb in between clapping and wiggling his fingers. These little baby things stop unnoticed, we just realise one day that they haven't done them for a while. I dread the day he doesn't want to play with our ears when he snuggles, can't stand to think of the day when he is embarrassed about wearing leggings and stops smiling at himself in the mirror as he skips and turns.
I'm glad for watching days, it reminds me to do just that. Stop and watch for those things that end too quickly.

The senses, they have been assaulted.

Yesterday we went shoe shopping for mum. I get my feet from her, she has aching feet and serves me right, how we used to laugh when we had watched her getting up from a kneeling position...toes stuck in a curl, and hobbling hobbler. Ooh, ahhhh, oooh......guess who's toes get stuck now then? Who's a moaning and a grunting when trying to get going after a kneel down? Oh yes, that'd be me.
Anyway podiatrists and consultants suggested some orthopaedic trainers ( running shoes, yes, running shoes) they even told her where to go..so I took her. Eventually, we got there. Up the wooden stairs to see a young and hip looking chap waiting to serve us.
Mum, 69 this year, arthritis. Me 44, overweight and puffing and wheezing, Leah, young and spring like but not athletic ( not in our genes, not anywhere and we've done the genealogy thankyou.) Here we were, standing in a store full of top of the range running shoes. Unlikely candidates if ever there were any. One of those situations that has me making wise comments and being flippant from the start.
Introductions made and impressive discussions on flat feet and fallen arches ( is that the same thing??) I mentally zoned out for a few seconds, because I do that, when I returned to earth I saw something that made me say out loud " Oh!! OH....if only I had my camera, because if THIS isn't blog fodder then nothing is!" Mum was bare foot, standing with her back to me, young and hip shoe shop man was on the floor, chin about 10 inches from mum's feet, his bum high in the air, crack on view and hairy patch ( ewww) blowing in the breeze.
4 pairs of increasingly snazzy trainers were tried on but none got the same reaction as the ( thankfully) demure first pair. Hoorah! ( so glad that lime green pair weren't the best because really, had they been 'the ones' we would have been obliged to buy some serious lycra to go with them) Mum is in foot heaven, arches supported, heels on cushions of air and gel and laced into supported bliss. She skipped along all day and sighed in sheer delight at how young and unsore her feet now feel. Her feet are corrected, which means her knees are in line and her hips are no longer being pulled out of place. She had a young man quite literally at her feet and all for the sum of £70. Cheap at half the price.
Today, I was grabbed at the exit of Somerfields, having bought a veritable mountain of flapjacks ( discovered by the boys as the new treat of the year) I was snagged by one of those blasted people who try to sell you things whilst assuring you that they aren't selling you anything. Axa healthcare today.
Oh for the love of deodorant, if you're going to take a job like this, make yourself appealing. No good wearing that smart suit if you stink, and he did, he really stank. I am not good with smells. I can't ignore them and I can't stop my face screwing up. At one point I even had to put my hand over my mouth because I was breathing in his garlic fumes when he spoke to me.....that was bad enough but his rancid armpits were just too much. He was quite handsome too. Not a bit of use is it, no matter how good someone looks, if you have to breathe through your teeth and pray that your eyebrows won't melt when you're closer than 30 feet...forget it.
I walked no more than 20 steps before another canvasser stopped me. I must have a sympathetic face, either that or they can see that I'll never be able to make a quick getaway. This one at least smelled good and was quick, he now knows how important I think recycling is, all is well with the world.
Look who came to visit yesterday....





Cobi boy, 6 weeks and all healthy and well. Still tiny and divine. How wonderful to smooch him and hand him back to his mummy. I am definately, definately too old for little tiny babies.
So lovely to see him in my living room though.

I heart my heart.

Isn't that just the way? Go away because there is nothing to blog about and whad'ya know? News. Sort of.
I've been having these panic attacks, can't catch my breath, heart pounding and hurting, faint feeling.......the last month has been pretty full of them, without my feeling there was much to panic about. When I walked with the boys to school last week ( I DID, imagine!!) well, I couldn't believe how unfit the winter had made me, it HURT, not my legs but my chest, just to the end of the road and I had to stop because the pain was horrible. Old knacker.
So, fast forward to yesterday when I went to the doctor to talk about my blasted legs, that are driving me crazy again and hurt now as well as twitch. Lovely Dr. she checked everything and asked questions and remarked on how my legs have a good range of movement and lovely pulses ( why thankyou!) and said that , bugger that it is, this really IS restless leg syndrome and unless the chinese torture becomes appealing again, I have to just get on with it and keep trying everything that seems to work.
In passing I mentioned my panic attacks and the fact that on tuesday night, I was pretty sure I was dying. ( so dramatic, it comes from my nana you know, ooh me hip) She took my blood pressure and managed to tell me how high it was without losing her eyebrows to the top of her head. She then asked if I have chest pain on exertion ( which would have been impossible to answer, as a rule as me+ exertion don't usually meet, unless you count changing the bottom sheet on my bed which makes me huff and puff a bit), but having had the walk of stabbing chest pain just days before I was able to tell her that, yes, ow, walking hurts and so does the climb up the back steps these days.
I also run out of breath half way through a sentence which is so maddening as I make myself laugh, it sounds so like some puffy old fag ash Lil, having smoked 100 a day for 60 years. By the time I have wheezed the last word out and then snorted at the sound of it..well who's left to listen anymore?
We had just been talking about how walking and exercise will help the high blood pressure and aid the weight loss, she then looked at me and said " scrap all that. Don't do anything that causes the pain, we need to check this out." So I am heading for an ECG, blood tests and an ECG whilst on a treadmill ( Oh lawks, imagine that why don't you? Can't even get any practise in so I can try and fool them into thinking that these legs are used to moving further than 20 yards at a time)
I think I'm not worried, I am hoping this is merely a fright in the right direction. I have been talking to myself and telling myself how I have done this to myself.
I try to help myself and thankfully manage to get the weight down before putting it back on again ( which if I am correct, is actually incredibly bad for you, as bad as just being fat the whole time) I know it's not something I do intentionally, but it IS something I haven't taken seriously enough. I have convinced myself that I may be fat but I'm fit. I chase around after 3 little boys and walk to town and ....... don't do enough. I am unkind to my poor body, the only one I have. I haven't liked it enough or been nice to it. I haven't cared.
I so want to care and do what is good for me. I want to feel well and be an old lady, I want to breathe well and feel well and not ache. I am not old. I joke about it and I have grey hair but I am not old.
I hope I have all the time in the world to rectify things. To change, for good. For THE good.
I so wish I knew what makes me give up, stop caring, fool myself that I am happy and cuddly and people love me just the way I am... well maybe they do but my children need me. They will need me for a long time, I still need my mum.
I have managed to tell myself that it doesn't matter if I feel miserable because I am fat. It DOES matter if I feel ill because I am fat. If I can't walk, or clean or do everyday things because I am fat and heavy, that really matters.
I don't smoke, I don't drink, I don't even drink tea or coffee, it never occurs to me to do any of those things because I believe they are not good for me, have no benefits......why then can I eat such crap in such quantities without a care? It is SO frustrating to be this way.. It ISN'T as easy as saying ' stop then.' If only it were.
Right now I am on track, losing weight again and feeling positive...i just thinking that one day, who knows when, something could change again. I can't do it again. I have to get well and healthy. Be fit and healthy.
One day at a time I suppose. The tests begin next week. Naturally I have had 3 heart attacks today and have all kinds of heart defects imaginable, I have all but prepared for a heart transplant and have thought about how inconvenient that oxygen tank will be when I have to have it fixed on the back of my electric carty thing. I've stopped just short of shopping for polyester slacks and slip-on shoes, because I might well have all these tests and be told, 'pull yourself together woman' ... it's panic attacks after all.
Whatever it is, it has made me think harder than I ever have before. I hope this fear stays with me.

I think....

I might take a break for a few days. I'm sort of burned out with the whole blog thing at the moment, seems I have to drag myself here and then bore the beejeebers out of myself.....hardly seems the best thing does it?
I hope that if I give myself a break and do some lovely spring cleaning I might come up with an interesting post at last.
Cleaning carpets tomorrow, life is one big old thrill isn't it?

H and I have been at loggerheads just lately, sometimes the Jack Spratt syndrome doesn't cut it and I could just SCREAM with frustration. Times like this I see the similarities between Isaac and H, the whole aspergers thing and the absolutely head banging lack of reason and 'just because' of it all. Isaac will look at something and it just isn't right, he will never be able to tell you why, he just hates it. That's it. H too.
Today I went shopping at a store that I really like, it is not the store H likes. No problem you would think. NUH UH! Huge problem, bad me. He can't tell me WHY I must never shop at this store, just that if I do, it will be deliberately to annoy him and that will be a HUGE DEAL.
Of course, this makes me feel that now I MUST shop here. If he said ' you know that store supports child labour', or ' this store has practices that go against things I believe are important' I could see his point, but right out of the blue he says he we must never use that store, HE doesn't like it. PUT 'EM UP MATEY, let round one begin.
I could probably quite happily not shop here and no-one would lose out.......only now, because of the way he went about this I have this horrible feeling of being controlled and dictated to.
He is very set in his ways, he likes something that's that, Kirby vacuum, none other.
Fairy washing up liquid, don't even show him any other.
Wilson socks....feet would fall off should any other socks ever find their way onto his feet.
In september, Asda opened here. Walmart own Asda, we love Asda, love it. H LOVES it. In his mind, shopping elsewhere is ridiculous now, WHY? What???? NO!!!!! He is a creature of habit. I like spontaneity. I love Asda but sometimes, well hell, why not wander the aisles of Tesco, or Morrisons, or sainsbury's. Live on the wild side. ( wonder why Sainsbury's is still OK with him? Never will understand how his head works!)
This ridiculous squabble blew up out of all proportions. Don't you just hate that? I quite like how you can slip other stuff in there though and get that off your chest at the same time. I really loathe fighting though but jeez, sometimes you just have to stand your ground.
My hackles rise when someone tries to tell me to do or not do something.
I am so tired ....... I like calmness and peace. Life is too short for fighting, especially over ridiculous things like that.
So, in an effort to calm my jagged nerves, what have you fought with your beloved over that is beyond ridiculous? Go on, make me feel better. Please.

Spring went and sprung.

It did, clocks went forward yesterday, sun came out today in a warm and cheery way. So cheerful was it, that I WALKED TO SCHOOL, yes I did.. almost trotted with a song in my heart. Added to that was my 3lbs lost and a promise of a day out with the girls. Today was a good day.
I was horrified by how stiff and ridiculously out of breath I was. Lawks, shame on me. I have truly punished myself this winter. Curled up, mentally and physically, feeding my body and soul way more than either needed, at last that is over for now.
Am a stiff and cripply old bag tonight though, a whole day of walking and shopping and walking, more movement and excitement in a day than there has been for months. A nice kind of aching. May there be much more of it for a long while.
I love the evenings being lighter, we were out with the boys until 7pm, which means they come in, eat and sleeeeeeeep. I love the sunshine, I heart it all.
The very thought that I can soon wear my crocs flip flops and wear short sleeves is heavenly and happy making. I was made for warmth and light, dark and dreary is not my thing at all. I am like a cat, I all but stretch and preen in sun.
Somebody put easter eggs through out letter box this evening, cadbury's mini eggs and galaxy mini eggs, my lovely devonshire brain think it was a benevolent fairy who wants to make us happy, the part of me that lived in L.A. might think it was the neighbours who are so tired of footballs, basketballs and stones being thrown over the hedge that they have laced said eggs with something sedating and anti ball throwing, if the foil wrappers a a bit squiffy we may not eat them. Fairies are in this area though, for real.
I heard that a mini van of them went leaving plates of home baked goodies on doorsteps around town, ringing bells and running away fast, whilst giggling and tripping to get away without being seen. This is a lovely place to live, you should come here, it's even sunny.

I wish.

There are many times when ' I wish' is the thought of the day. Today was one of those days.
My niece is 27, she is 6 months pregnant with her 3rd baby boy . Last month her husband left her. He said he wanted to concentrate on work and earning money, seems he wants to concentrate on some other woman too.
Today she moved into a rented home because he sold their house.

I wished a lot today.

I wished that I could make her feel better and really know that she will be happy.

I wished that she could see that the second she sees this baby, that she feels will make her more sad, will be what saves her mind on many a lonely night.

I wished that the house she moved into didn't stink of cat pee, and by the time we left it didn't, hoorah for steam cleaners and Vanish carpet spray.

I wished, when I saw the faded old lady chairs that 'he' got her when he took their nice sofa, that I could spit in his eye..when I had a mouth full of sharp nails.

I wished that I could make the pathetic low life scumbag that so easily walked away from this family, squirm and feel a tiny piece of the misery he has caused this girl.

I wished that we could fast forward the clock to a time when Gemma can look out of that new kitchen window and breathe a sigh of relief that he left and she is free to be happy again.

I wished I could look the new woman in the face and ask her why she thinks this man , who has had 2 wives and will soon have 4 children...who has walked out on a heavily pregnant woman and 2 little boys of 3 and 21 months, why she thinks he will make HER happy? What does she think SHE has that will change such a weak and pathetic man? What is it about him that she thinks is so great. I hope she finds out. Soon.

The new house is wonderful, it is close enough that we can all pop over and see her, can play with her babies and give her a break. The sun shone today and we could all see how happy she will be there, all of us except her.
She gulped back tears the whole time we were there. She unpacked boxes and wandered from room to room. She tried to be cheerful to her littlest boy but red eyes and cracking voice gave the game away a bit.

I wished that Gemma knew what I know. I have been where she is, although my baby had just been born when the daddy walked out. I know how she feels, I remembered so well today what that heart pain feels like. I wish I could take what is in my heart now and send it to hers so she could really know that the future is a wonderful thing. Her life can be happy again and it will be.
I wish that she discovers the joys that can come with being a single mother quickly. That when her baby boy is born he will bring with him the peace that she needs to feel joy again .
I don't need to wish that her husband learns the consequence of his selfishness. I know he will. I know he will wake up one day and realise that the thing he was looking for was right under his nose the whole time. He will have lost everything of value, even if he works himself up to be a millionaire.

I pity stupid people, the ones who spend their whole lives in a stupid frenzy of searching for what will make them happy, scurry scurry.....picking apart the people who love them and finding them wanting....wearing themselves out with looking at what they don't have......wondering why the people around them aren't coming up to scratch.....feeling hard done by because something is missing.....stupid people who think it is everyone else's job to make them happy and endless walking away because, argh, why don't they make ME HAPPY????
Stupid people. Stop looking for what makes YOU happy, start working on making others happy.
Cast your bread upon the waters ( and it'll come back buttered)
Stupid man who left this good girl.

Notice from the management.

( pinned onto Jordan and Sophie's doors )

Doors will be locked when managers retire, unless specific request has been received via text or phone call, patrons will be locked out and have to find alternative accomodation. Notice to be received by 10pm at the latest.

Rooms must be kept at a reasonable filth level, when any unpleasant odour is detected, management reserves the right to fumigate said room and charge accordingly.

ALL phone calls will be charged...every SINGLE one. Calls to mobile phones must be made from patrons OWN mobile phone or patron will PAY THE BILL

Patrons are welcome to use cooking facilities but are politely requested to WASH THEIR OWN DAMN DISHES. Failure to wash dishes ( and pans, let's not forget the pans) will result in the managers feeling righteous indignation and putting dirty dishes, pots pans, knives and forks in the PATRON'S BLOODY BEDS!

Regrettably, due to unforeseen circumstances ( ie discovering that what the managers thought was a family home is actually an hotel) fees are charges will shortly be increased. After all, every employee is entitled to a holiday and the tips in this establishment are abysmal.

Thankyou for your custom, please come again.

What to say?

Things are sort of tickety boo and alright. That's great for real life but sheesh...doesn't do much for a good blog does it?
You know, could jabber on about dieting and feeling better, yawn...pop over to the diet blog for that.
Could talk about legs and aching joints, yawn, old mare, get over it.
Could tell you how I love my hot water bottle because I am old and the heat on my back somehow helps my legs......hate the thought of admitting that this old body is enjoying such things, it'll be bed jackets next-you mark my words.
It's all so every day isn't it?
Oh I got my new passport back, am now officially married to H, which will surprise anyone seeing the photograph in it, look like I deserve to be single and lonely, in fact, best avoided if at all possible, although have to say, it's not as bad as it could be, passport pictures are notoriously revolting aren't they? I was ready for that so didn't bother to make any effort at all. Ha! See? Drag the hair back and leave it curly ( did that on purpose because as long as I am recognisable from the old picture in my unmarried and single passport I didn't have to get the pictures or form countersigned, so just let the hair do it's wild and crazy best, hopped into a booth and snap snap, pictures done.
Have the boys forms all ready but they do have to be countersigned. Hopefully they go off on monday.
H has his appointment for his 'living in England' test, he has to take this test before he can apply for citizenship. Actually am glad I don't have to take it, they wouldn't let me stay, it's supposed to show a willingness to know about the country, can only be taken in English, Welsh or Gaelic, thus proving a good knowledge of the language. When he has passed that test, we can then apply for his citizenship and get his passport too.
Every little step brings our trip closer and makes it more real. I wish I could click my fingers and be there, I hate the thought of flying, really hate it. I am so afraid of flying, being trapped in that metal thing for 10 hours at a time, thinking about how helpless I am, ack, looking out of the window is compulsory forme, I am drawn to it and yet when I see how high up I am.....yeegads! Why, in heavens name do they have that little screen that tells you how high up you are, how fast you are going and how much longer you will be stuck up there with no escape? WHY DO THAT?
Honestly, this fear is enough to actually make me back out, if H and Seth weren't so excited and thrilled with the idea I would have bought a big screen TV by now and forgotten I ever said I would do it. Am so scared. Every time I fly, I am more scared than the time before and I know when I get there, the trip will be marred by the knowledge that I have to do it all again to get home. Have to stop talking about it now or I might hyperventilate and weep a whole lot.
There is so much to look forward to when we get there though, I can't wait to see these little boys at Disneyland and Seaworld, the sunshine and Malls. So much excitement and knowing that we get to come home after it all, what could be better than that?
Still a long time to go before I have to get on a plane though shall push it to the back of my mind and concentrate on getting my arse to a size that won't get wedged in the seat, get my belly so that the belt clips into place without the humiliation of asking for an extension or having some skinny attendant try and squash the belt into place. Get my legs so that they can wear capri pants and not get sore from rubbing their fat selves together while I walk 3 gazillion miles around fun places of great entertainment with 3 excited little boys. Work on my arms so they don't look like someone stuck my thighs in the wrong place and can look good in a short sleeved shirt and catch some sunshine. I'd like my face to look like it has a shape rather than a blob sitting on a chin on a chin on a chin.
So
Get your own countdown at BlingyBlob.com

Forget the plane bit and think of all the rest, when that fails, valium should do the trcik.

This'll make all the difference!

Life is going to be so cool now. I am going to be the coolest of cool people in my car.
I ordered some foot pedal covers, the old rubber ones are worn and weary. Shiny new foot pedals, for me. Exciting enough I hear you say. Whoohoo.
Well, they arrived and I am almost giddy with the thought of how my life is going to change...look here, it says on the box



It is going to 'bring my drive more enjoyable' How fabulous is that? Also, ALSO.......even better, it is 'EASY TO INSTALLATION!' That means the world to me, because I have such trouble installationing things , I might even have a go at this myself because they say it is easy to installation and once that is done, well it'll bring my drive more enjoyable. Wow, all that for £7 inc P&P. Marvellous.
Eli is at grandma's today, it is super cold but beautifully bright and sunny, the word is my lobster as they say.

Shhhhhhhh, don't tell anyone but.....

I do believe that something has clicked. It isn't easy, by no means is this tra la la and skippedy hum but I have regained that whatever it is that helps me be kind to me. I gave myself a harsh talking to and the whole young people dying, lots to live for thing has given me the oomph ( don't you just love my amazing way with words??) to begin again. Again.
If only I could discover what in the world it is that switches that desire and ability on, and off. I would be so rich! ( and thin)
I really hate depression, I loathe it's ability to wipe out any kind of joy, the way it creeps up and smothers the good things in life. It's like evil to me. No warning usually, not even a trigger, just waking and feeling heavy, heavy heart, heavy legs, heavy soul.
I accept, though I don't like it, that my depression is something that is intrinsically a part of me.
I am learning that I don't have to allow it to rule me, or even stay in charge for long. I see more clearly that I can beat it and absolutely see that I have more control over it than I ever believed.
Food is most definately a huge factor in how I feel. Some foods make me positively high and others make me crash into the depths of misery. Guess which foods are the ones I am hooked on? Yeay!!! Let's eat way too much of the very things that make me miserable. The worst of the misery foods, for me, is bread. I love it, it hates me. I could eat bread for England. It has an almost immediate reaction on me though, I bloat and I can feel myself become sad, honestly I can.
Potatoes are the next, chips, crisps, mashed, I can never get enough. Plain boiled or baked are different, I am a normal person with those, can eat a regular portion and be content but throw some fat in, yeehah.......stuff 'em in and make me weep, or sleep.
I got tired of being a slug. I want to be busy in my day, not napping or shutting down.
So...here we go again.
It feels so good to be eating well, it feels great to be sleeping better. It is great to get dressed knowing that these clothes that are tight, well soon, if I choose, they will be less tight.
I have set myself the entirely possible goal of losing 7lbs a month. It IS about lsong weight. I want to feel better, I will feel better when I lose weight. My legs won't hurt so much, my feet won't ache the way they do. The bigger I am, the smaller I feel. Awful that being fat makes you feel less useful, less likeable, less worthy. Silly, that although I never look at anyone overweight and think less of them, I assume that everyone thinks less of me when I am this heavy.



Look how happy I was in the summer when I had lost weight and my clothes were looser, when I lost my shame and felt more able to be the real me. Yes, for me this IS about losing weight, for my mind and my body it has to go. Maybe I will never lose it all, perhaps I will forever lose it and gain it back.....thank goodness though that I DO hit a limit where I just have to stop and help myself.
I think, tomorrow, I am going to creep back HERE and chart what I eat again. It helped last time, maybe it will help again.
My biggest wish would be to find exactly what it is that drags me off the good path and sabotage the progress, if I knew that, well there would be no stopping me would there?
Here's hoping that this time.......I hope this time it lasts until I have forgotten how it feels to dislike myself the way I have lately. I like liking me.

It's MOTHERS DAY!

What a splendid day I can't remember ever having such day wonderful mothers day. It started very early, at 1am I was woken by the hallway light going on, our door doesn't close properly and so when the light is switched on it wakes me up, grumble, grump feeling sure that Sophie turned the light on I went out to get cross with her, but it wasn't her, no sign of anyone.
My poor legs hurt so much I thought I should go and get some paracetemol or something, in the kitchen as I was getting in a drink, in bounds Seth, wide awake and so happy..... " IT'S MOTHERS DAY!!" Bless his face.
I told him that it was the middle of the night and that he really should get some sleep " but I want to cook you breakfast with daddy" I told him that daddy would be sure to wake him and he could cook breakfast then. It took him 2 1/2 hours to get back to sleep, he was so worried he would miss the excitement.
I woke at 7am and hrumph, how awful, had to just stay in bed until I had been surprised ....8am, little boys and daddy came up with bacon, eggs, sausage, tomatoes, mushrooms and toast. Sweet hand made cards and beautiful flowers. What a way to start the day.
Church was lovely, singing children and little hand wrapped gifts and cards.
When I got home we ate lunch and I found on my bed, the most fabulous array of skin care creams, hand lotions, make up and a beautiful bag...this must be from Jordan who hadn't been home when we left and was already at work when we got home. I still haven't seen him but I'm sure it must have been his gift to me.
After dinner cooked by H ( fried chicken, corn, potato salad and beans) I took out a tub of Ben and Jerry's chocolate and fudge brownie ice cream, sitting in my chair with 3 little boys around me, mouths open like little baby sparrows waiting to be fed, better than worms they were rewarded with gobs of delicious ice cream and what joy in those moments of sharing with these little people. Shame that the ice cream sent them into a frenzy of couch jumping and squealing until threats of early bed calmed them down, 30 minutes of watching diving with whales did the trick, hoorah for whales!
I will try and post pictures tomorrow of cards and flowers, too comfy and relaxed to take any right now. My silky soft hands, with manicured nails are ready to fold in blissful relaxation while I watch some good telly, or even 'the Queen' DVD.
I feel some change in the air, spring is bringing it's lively thoughts and intentions and I am hoping that any day now my energy and enthusiasm will be bursting forth. This year has so much to offer and I want to be ready to enjoy it. Little things are beginning to break through this horrible misery that has been with me. At last I can see little sprigs of hope that the winter is over and it's time to look out and see the good stuff again. I do so poorly with the bleak weather, my mind gets steeped in the greyness and misery. Next winter, we get a 4 week break from the
good ole English wind and rain and will all benefit from the Californian sunshine and warmth. I should get one of those light boxes and sit in front of it every day, sunshine is my medicine.
Tomorrow is another day, what a shame to waste any of them. I have been reminded so often lately how short this life is.
An old friend died recently and the bugger of it was, she wasn't old at all. 48. Damn cancer of course. I hadn't seen her since we drove away from Utah with our tails between our legs and no idea where we would end up.
She was the reason I met H, she showed me the online singles thing that introduced me to him, made sure I went to meet him, encouraged and cajoled
There was a feeling of disappointment on both sides and also I think, ( I know) on my side, shame and embarrassment that meant we never spoke again. I have oft been sad about that and since I heard that she had died, that has deepened. Of course it is too late to do anything and anyway, actions done out of guilt or because someone is dying mean nothing, in my opinion, which is why, even when I knew she was dying I did nothing. We go through this life and allow pride and shame to dictate what we do and how we behave. Sad that.
What would I have done differently 4 years ago, if I had known that this lovely, stubborn, proud and kind lady would die so soon? Who knows, and it may be in another life when I meet her and we can laugh about how unimportant these things were that we fell out over. I know that already, to her, they don't matter anymore, if they even did at all. She was generous to a fault and had an amazing outlook on life, always seeing things in an eternal perspective and rarely as something here and now. She was very proud and fought any kind of help from any source. Her first battle with cancer was done without anyone but one or two close friends knowing about it, never stopping, not crying, not complaining, just getting on with it and only revealing what she had been though when it was done, beaten, won. Damn beast came back though and on the 3rd round it beat her. 48.
If stories like this and there are far too many of them around, if these aren't enough to make the rest of us get up, look around us and make a conscious decision to make every day count, then shame on us.
Sorry Jackie, bye bye, tomorrow I will make my day count. Say hello to my dad if you see him.

It's MOTHERS DAY!

What a splendid day I can't remember ever having such day wonderful mothers day. It started very early, at 1am I was woken by the hallway light going on, our door doesn't close properly and so when the light is switched on it wakes me up, grumble, grump feeling sure that Sophie turned the light on I went out to get cross with her, but it wasn't her, no sign of anyone.
My poor legs hurt so much I thought I should go and get some paracetemol or something, in the kitchen as I was getting in a drink, in bounds Seth, wide awake and so happy..... " IT'S MOTHERS DAY!!" Bless his face.
I told him that it was the middle of the night and that he really should get some sleep " but I want to cook you breakfast with daddy" I told him that daddy would be sure to wake him and he could cook breakfast then. It took him 2 1/2 hours to get back to sleep, he was so worried he would miss the excitement.
I woke at 7am and hrumph, how awful, had to just stay in bed until I had been surprised ....8am, little boys and daddy came up with bacon, eggs, sausage, tomatoes, mushrooms and toast. Sweet hand made cards and beautiful flowers. What a way to start the day.
Church was lovely, singing children and little hand wrapped gifts and cards.
When I got home we ate lunch and I found on my bed, the most fabulous array of skin care creams, hand lotions, make up and a beautiful bag...this must be from Jordan who hadn't been home when we left and was already at work when we got home. I still haven't seen him but I'm sure it must have been his gift to me.
After dinner cooked by H ( fried chicken, corn, potato salad and beans) I took out a tub of Ben and Jerry's chocolate and fudge brownie ice cream, sitting in my chair with 3 little boys around me, mouths open like little baby sparrows waiting to be fed, better than worms they were rewarded with gobs of delicious ice cream and what joy in those moments of sharing with these little people. Shame that the ice cream sent them into a frenzy of couch jumping and squealing until threats of early bed calmed them down, 30 minutes of watching diving with whales did the trick, hoorah for whales!
I will try and post pictures tomorrow of cards and flowers, too comfy and relaxed to take any right now. My silky soft hands, with manicured nails are ready to fold in blissful relaxation while I watch some good telly, or even 'the Queen' DVD.
I feel some change in the air, spring is bringing it's lively thoughts and intentions and I am hoping that any day now my energy and enthusiasm will be bursting forth. This year has so much to offer and I want to be ready to enjoy it. Little things are beginning to break through this horrible misery that has been with me. At last I can see little sprigs of hope that the winter is over and it's time to look out and see the good stuff again. I do so poorly with the bleak weather, my mind gets steeped in the greyness and misery. Next winter, we get a 4 week break from the
good ole English wind and rain and will all benefit from the Californian sunshine and warmth. I should get one of those light boxes and sit in front of it every day, sunshine is my medicine.
Tomorrow is another day, what a shame to waste any of them. I have been reminded so often lately how short this life is.
An old friend died recently and the bugger of it was, she wasn't old at all. 48. Damn cancer of course. I hadn't seen her since we drove away from Utah with our tails between our legs and no idea where we would end up.
She was the reason I met H, she showed me the online singles thing that introduced me to him, made sure I went to meet him, encouraged and cajoled
There was a feeling of disappointment on both sides and also I think, ( I know) on my side, shame and embarrassment that meant we never spoke again. I have oft been sad about that and since I heard that she had died, that has deepened. Of course it is too late to do anything and anyway, actions done out of guilt or because someone is dying mean nothing, in my opinion, which is why, even when I knew she was dying I did nothing. We go through this life and allow pride and shame to dictate what we do and how we behave. Sad that.
What would I have done differently 4 years ago, if I had known that this lovely, stubborn, proud and kind lady would die so soon? Who knows, and it may be in another life when I meet her and we can laugh about how unimportant these things were that we fell out over. I know that already, to her, they don't matter anymore, if they even did at all. She was generous to a fault and had an amazing outlook on life, always seeing things in an eternal perspective and rarely as something here and now. She was very proud and fought any kind of help from any source. Her first battle with cancer was done without anyone but one or two close friends knowing about it, never stopping, not crying, not complaining, just getting on with it and only revealing what she had been though when it was done, beaten, won. Damn beast came back though and on the 3rd round it beat her. 48.
If stories like this and there are far too many of them around, if these aren't enough to make the rest of us get up, look around us and make a conscious decision to make every day count, then shame on us.
Sorry Jackie, bye bye, tomorrow I will make my day count. Say hello to my dad if you see him.

There now, that didn't hurt a bit, did it?

I am not girlie, not a bit. In fact I just pretty much hate anything about that titivating, fru fru, frilly making stuff. Poke me in the eye with a blunt needle rather than make me sit and go through all that fluffing about. Please. Life to live and all that.
I enjoy a massage, just don't be frilly about it, if you mean it, put your back into it and release those tense muscles!
Dye my hair, yawn......takes too long but I do it ( myself because have you SEEN what they charge at the hairdressers and those grey hairs are going to fight through just as fast anyway) because I'll be darned if I am ready to have people call me granny to those little boys I done birthed myself. Also, grey hair, just looks so tough doesn't it? So, shiny dyed hair because I am worth it . Plucking, also, fact of life, not ready for uni brows ( never will be) or chin hairs or a moustache, has to be done, every day unfortunately.
Shaving legs and pits, oh please, do it but not happily and not often enough.
Nails. I used to have particularly gorgeous hands, in fact at one time ( 18) a photographer asked to take pictures of them because they were very lovely. Not so much anymore, the nails still pretty much grow long and strong, neglected as they are, if they break? Ptttth who cares? They have to go through such a battering every day, cleaning and getting washed and scrubbing and getting bent back all day long while I am lifting and such.
My feet. Flintstones feet H says, poor feet, they are tired and all battered and rough. I have the weirdest toenails, they curl and are so tiny it is ridiculous on such a big body, teeny little baby nails on fat old flintstone feet. Shame. They are so ticklish I just about pee if anyone touches my feet , they do love reflexology because that is firm and not tickly. I have never understood that whole pedicure deal. I do like the idea of pretty feet but in my life? Where is the time and the money?
So, this evening Sophie ( she of beauty school) said " d'you want a manicure and a pedicure?" well, look see, I was showered, in my PJ's watching American Idol ( I love Takesha, hope she wins) why not? I asked. So I did. Sat here like the queen of all she surveys and let my daughter do her thing and for heavens sake....it was rather pleasant. I have rather pretty feet, with no rough cuticley things, and red nail polish ( lawks!) and my finger nails are all french polished and filed. The days of my hands being the object of adoration or envy are gone, they are old lady hands now, big old butchers hands ( I think) and not worthy of a photographers attention. Tonight though, they are nice enough that I shan't be scrubbing a toilet or cleaning the stove ( cool , not that I had any intention or anything but always great to have a bonafide excuse)
I can't see myself budgeting for such frivolities in the near future but look, I gave the child life, the very least she can do is give me a manicure / pedicure in the comfort of my own home wouldn't you say?
It's mothers' day here on Sunday ....just as she finished my treatment Sophie said " hey, this is your mothers' day present." I'll take that, beats everything I got last year, ungrateful brood. Actually the little boys have been so sweet, they keep showing me what they made at school and then hiding it again. Seth's card is the most touching thing, can hardly wait to show you.
So, I learned that to be a bit girlie once in a while, doesn't hurt. My feet are happy to have been noticed after all they do for me. My hands are happy that I remembered they used to be lovely and pretended they still are for a moment. My daughter is happy that I let her at me and showed that I care enough to do that even though the idea of this stuff really puts me in a bad mood usually.
Happy me.

Ahhhh, now that's more like it.

I do love it when enormous joy comes from something small.
My sister, Leah, and her friend Heather came by tonight and took the boys to the park for 2 hours ( yeehah!) after dinner I was going to drive them both home and Sophie and Mel ( Jordan's girlfriend) asked me if I would run them to Mel's flat in Babbacombe. Not too far away by car but 2 bus rides away, now and then I like to throw a spanner in the works by saying 'yes'. Fun to see them look startled and then jumping to it in case I change my mind.
So we set off and dropped Leah and Heather off, then set out to take Sophie and Mel to Babbacombe.
In the dark. You know what that means don't you? I can get there ( directions given in a voice fit for an imbecile from teenage girls) but as I am driving I know that I will never make it back because they took me the back way. Meaners.
Left, right, right, left, winding roads, dark streets.
*Sigh*
Then we remembered that instead of trying to get back the way we came, I could follow the road and drive into Torquay, bliss, I know the way from there even in the dark, clever me.
Dropped them off and kept straight on and then.......look at this, imagine being able to drive through this, as a matter of course because you live near it. This is called the English Riviera because if the weather is going to be great in England, it will be great here, it is beautiful and it has always been one of my most favourite places.



This is actually the road you drive along to get to where I needed to be. Beautiful, so uplifting and happy and in the summer the smell is glorious, heat and fish and chips and suncream.



Such a peaceful feeling I get from this place, even though it is always busy and bustling. Driving along here, on my own this evening was like balm to my weary soul. Thank goodness for little things that make a huge difference.

Merry christmas!!!

For christmas, Dan bought me ( me?) a DVD player for the car, they were a great price, so I bought another one. 2 players so that we could have one in each row in the back of the car, hence entertaining all 3 boys for the length of whatever journey we take. Marvellous. Of course, we have a slight problem in that when we shut the side door of the car, it locks all the doors, when all the doors are locked, the alarm goes off.
So, whenever we park anywhere unlike most people who check they have locked their car, we have to make sure we unlock at least one door so we don't come back to a car surrounded by irate people wanting to cave our heads in because that DAMN ALARM HAS BEEN GOING OFF FOR HOURS!!!
Normally, I sort of hope it is stolen while we are gone because then I can claim on my insurance and with the money they give me I could buy a bus pass for 3 zones for a week, maybe.
Hmmmm though, putting 2 DVD players in my car, doubles it's value and also makes me feel that I can't leave the car unlocked, better not use them unless we are going to be driving for 12 hours or something. So we haven't, until sunday when driving to Cornwall, which in the eyes of the cornish is a whole other country ( and actually, we do have to drive over a big old bridge that says DEVON at one end and CORNWALL at the other, so probably it is another country).
This calls for the breaking out of DVD players, great excitement. Much polishing of DVDs and choosing and bragging to other cars that will travelling without DVD players ( 2 even) Ha, peasants, look at ME!!
Trouble was, they didn't work, one kept saying "unable to read disc" and the other one let us watch one DVD, only one, over and over again.
High school musical.
For 6 hours.
Keep your head in the game. Together, together, together.......
With Seth and Eli yelling things like " I CAN'T SEE!! Move your fat head Isaac! Can WE have it now?" and Isaac saying things like " Dad! DAD! DAD! DAD! it won't let me choose scene select, look I am pressing play and it won't work DAD.......DAD! DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD! DAD!"
My brain is still bleeding and my hands keep clapping in time to the throbbing in my ears whilst my toes tap to the tunes that are still repeating themselves in my head.
I took them back to Halfords today. I have lived 44 years and had 6 children and managed to travel the world without DVD players in my car and I plan on living the rest of my days the very same way. Thankyou. Phew, can leave my unlocked car without worry again, except I traded the DVD players for 2 brand new booster seats, now all 3 boys have jazzier than jazzy seats that match rather than cause migraines by their clashiness.



My car looks very posh inside now, I even vacuumed it and threw away rubbish, cleaned the outside too but that still looks like
crap, so many bashes and bumps, poor thing.
So, merry Christmas to me.

602.

Six hundred and two posts. Can you believe it? Who'd have thought I had that much to say? Amazing what is in your head isn't it?
Talking of heads, mine is hurting today, ouch. It is probably the beginning of a stroke, what with me having hypochondria and all. H and I were in line at Target once, when I was heavily pregnant with Isaac and we picked up a diagnose it yourself medical book, we wanted to see how many of the illnesses we had between us. ( never let it be said that WE don't know how to have fun!) We cleaned up, we had nearly all of them! We are medical miracles the way we can still function with so many shocking maladies. We had to put the book back when we read about a horrible illness where your abdomen was distended and lumps were palpable. I really had that one, my abdomen was so full of lumps and bumps that were not only palpable but visible to the naked eye.
I can't tell you what a difference the sunshine makes, I made a start on clearing out the front yard, this year I would love to fill it with tubs and beautiful things, not sure it would survive three little boys and their feet. I did have the idea that if we get them involved in helping with the potting and tending they might not be so drawn to aim footballs at the them...what do you think? It's hard with such a tiny little space, I long for it to look beautiful but it's th eonly outside space they have, other than the park, we can't let them go there alone though so they have to go out in that little yard. with the wall. That they throw things over.... just so they can run out and around and into the big garden next door to retrieve said items ( balls, lego, action men, shoes, teddies, younger brothers etc.)
I am filled with joy at being able to have the windows open and sit and feel the sun streaming in. Happy me. I am so easily pleased. If it is sunny tomorrow, heaven help me, I may even clean my car. ( steady on!)

While I was out the front of the house today, who should I see, with my own eyes, in his brand spanking new pram but the gloriously perfect COBI!!
He is home, he lives spitting distance from our house and his mummy was taking him for a walk. He is still such a teeny tiny boy. He is all better but has had such a rough ride for such a little person. I am going to take some more pictures very soon, just letting him ( and mummy) settle in at home, he has only had a few days at home in his whole life.
There is something so special about tiny babies, they have such wise eyes, Cobi has those eyes, I could stare into the eyes of a newborn for hours, what do they think? Wouldn't you just love to know the answer to that one? So glad you are better little boy.

If you can't say something nice, then don't say nothing at all.......

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Ever had one of those days? Right.
I am having one of those lives right now. It's enough to drive a whole family crazy because I just cannot lift myself out of it.

H fixed the washing machine today, yeay. I can do laundry again without endlessly moving the dial thing and jiggling it to try and get it to empty. Fluff, in the drainy hose thing. Clear now, have lovely spinning machine again and how depressing is THAT when it is quite the highlight of your life?

Is sunny though. Hooray.

Oh.... I have developed a massive case of hypochondria, this week I have M.S. due to a horrible development in my legs. They have stopped being merely restless and have new things happening. Weird things, the twitching still happens but is so horrifically painful I am near demented, also it feels as though boiling water if being poured along the outside of my left foot. Then......my left leg keeps collapsing, no warning just walking along, minding my own business and FLOMP, down I go. Not the whole me, just the left side in a drunken sort of staggery trip. THEN..... here I am, heading in a straight line, or meaning to and where do I actually go? to the right, sideways......whey hey! better than a fairground ride because it is FREE and it's just me that gets to ride it. Wouldn't be so bad except I never get to even sniff anything remotely alcoholic, bar the odd swig of night nurse. Drunken staggering without the heady buzz bit. Lucky me. Anyway, in a dull moment, google painful stabbing legs and burning sensations and you get M.S, which means I must have it, google never lies does it? I didn't even google the drunken swagger, just the pain and stabbing and burning and lo and behold, they threw in the staggering bit as a freaky bonus prize.

On that note, because I have run out of even grumpy things to say, I am going to go and watch Eastenders because when in misery you can watch that and see that it could always be worse.

Pictures, is all. Ok, a few words too!

It was SO cold!! The wind is bitter right here.



Ahhh, balloons. I miss you my dad.


We dropped lavendar and daisies in the stream because he loved them.


This is where we scattered his ashes last year.


you have to look carefully to see the daisy heads rushing down the stream.

An exhuberant Isaac who moments ater ran through the stream!



My lovely mum......and Sister Leah with Elijah in wellies 5 sizes too big! He put these on and it was too late before we realised.



It's done. A whole year. What now?

Ok..this bit is how I feel , which doesn't matter ( should my mum read this) because what matters is all this makes her feel better and peaceful. Me? I think I hate this place. My dad loved it, which is important. It is so cold and beautifully bleak. When we scattered his ashes I felt we had left him somewhere harsh. I thought I would feel better today but I didn't. I try not to think about what it is like here when it's dark....I know it doesn't matter because HE ISN'T THERE!!
I wish he was on a mantle somewhere or under the stairs, or in his damn armchair with his leg over the arm, eating bread and jam and being a miserable old sod, not dead and scattered on this bloody barren moorland.
It isn't this place I hate if he was scattered on a sunkissed beach somewhere it would seem miserable to me, because he is scattered and he isn't here to tell me why my sodding washing machine won't empty, or spin.
I don't feel a bit close to my dad going here, it won't matter if I never go again. I feel close to him when I see my mum. When I tax my car, when I check my bank account and see I'm not overdrawn. When I see my face in the morning when my eyes for some reason seem paler, I see him ( which isn't terribly comforting because I adored him but really, I don't mind of I don't look like him! )
When I announced my horror to the girl in the coffee shop yesterday as she told me that 2 hot chocolates and 2 brownies were £7.10.....
"HOW MUCH? WHY???? HOW???? That is DISGRACEFUL! They had better be REALLY good brownies young lady!" That was my dad. He lives on. I just wish he really lived, still, here. Bugger.

Thinking back.

It's a rough day today, maybe worse than tomorrow will be .......
Emotionally that is. My head has been all over the place today, Sophie and I spent the morning out together which was lovely, we shopped and ate breakfast and enjoyed the SUNSHINE!

All day though, my head has been switching from this time last year to this time 18 years ago.

My dad was dying, barely breathing yet still able to scream in pain.

I was waiting for labour to start.

We were trying to believe this was all really happening .

I was wondering if this baby was a boy or girl.

We were trying to pretend this wasn't happening.

I tried to picture being a mother to 3 children.

We sat and stared at his chest and counted the seconds til the next breath.

I wondered why my husband hadn't spoken to me for 4 days.

We wondered how we would manage never seeing him again.

I thought this baby would never come out!

We knew life would never be the same again.

I had no idea how life would never be the same again!

The past year has been long, and it has flown by. How have we managed to get through a whole year without a man who was so much to us all? How has mum done it all, all those things he said she couldn't do without him? How have we still laughed and breathed and eaten and slept and carried on, when he isn't here? Can we do it all again this year? Another year without him?

The past 18 years have been so full I think I have aged 36 years at least.

I feel so small. So inadequate. So tired.

Tomorrow, I hope will be more about celebrating what has been. We are going to Cornwall to where we scattered dad's ashes. We want to see if the flowers have grown from where mum planted some bulbs.
I bought a helium balloon kit so I can fill Sophie's room with balloons while she is out tonight, that means that we can set some balloons free tomorrow. We all know that dad isn't going to be up there trying to catch them, he won't read those messages....but he'll know what we want to say. It feels so good to let those thoughts go, tied to a balloon. You have to do whatever helps. It's all so .......so not enough. Words fail me.

Sophie's birthday is all organised, her room looks beautiful, all the gifts you sent have been put into pretty gift bags and added to our gifts...thankyou. Everything is waiting in her room because she was born at 13 minutes past midnight, by the time she gets home tonight it will be her birthday already.




I went to build a bear on thursday and well, I built a bear ( fancy!) for Sophie, I wanted her to have something a bit girlie and frivolous for her birthday. It is a sweet sweet teddy, pink and white and is wearing pink CROCS! It has a heartbeat and she will love it.




I'm sorry that I'm so scatty these days. I think my brain is on holiday. I am longing for a stretch of time where we aren't bombarded with massively important things to deal with, mentally ....give my poor old mind a rest. 'Course you know then I will be whining about being bored don't you?

I will take pictures, post them tomorrow if we aren't all completely emotionally exhausted and worn out. Yeay.....bet you can hardly wait huh?

Say what?

Actual conversation between H and I this morning.
( what was actually said)
H. " Did you want me to fix dinner tonight?"
"Well, it's all right there, there's ribs, baked potatoes and salad in the fridge, just needs cooking"
" I can do that.....leave it to me"
5pm. I see in the kitchen, extra cucumber, more tomatoes.
" H... are you going to get those ribs on?"
Look of stunned surprise on H's face.
It would seem the conversation H thought we had this morning went like this...
" Did you want me to fix dinner tonight?"
" Bleh blah salad blah bleh cook"
He went to the store...hmmmm, she said salad, must need some .. will buy some.
Huh! 5pm when is she going to cook the ribs and prepare that stuff she made me buy?

Ever get the feeling you're in a world not your own?

Sophie stripped her hair last night, hoorah, black hair gone, recoloured it a nice copper sort of colour.
Seemed happy last night...was screaming banshee this morning
"MY HAIR IS ORANGE ORANGE....how can I go out with ORANGE HAIR???? It was, of course, my fault. I have stopped asking why or how that is, just sort of humming to my self and hoping that somehow things get better soon. SOON. Let's not talk about what is happening Sophie. Let's not.

Isaac had a mini field trip today, the sun has been shining for TWO days, glory be it is like a rebirth of joy, his class went to the park. Apparantly, to the enormous joy of his teacher, when they got back he said ( loudly even) "ANNIE!" ( his classroom assistant who he adores) " I had a FANTASTIT time at the park." Anne ( touching that he calls her Annie and he is adamant that only HE calls her that!) and his teacher are a bit in love with my Isaac. He didn't feel he wanted to do the writing about it though....ha, those big old brown eyes work for him every time, his teacher smiled and said ' maybe tomorrow'. Sucker.

I'm in a fog right now. Some of it my own doing and most of it not. I don't think I'm depressed again, just weary and frustrated at the helplessness of being me.
I like being in control, thrive on it even, this particular crapola of living isn't up to me. I am hostage to fate...and other people. I can't tell you how much I hate that.
I am responsible for the misery I feel about myself though. Not that I am able to do anything about it as my head is quite firmly entrenched in a punishing frame of mind. The more miserable I feel and let's be honest, I am really miserable, hidingly, cringingly, curl up and give in sort of miserable, the more the need to punish and feed that hateful feeling. This is all due to the feeling of being so out of control.
I know that there has to be a way to drag myself out of this. It is like being trapped behind a glass door, everything good is visible but I am just incapable of getting to it. It's hard being in this head, even harder being in this body.
The sunshine helps, a bit, nice to feel fresh air without stinging rain, great to have windows open and little boys playing outside.
What isn't so great are the sights we see.
2 days of sun and oh my, the things you see when you haven't got your gun!
God bless the English, such is their fear that this sun may be IT, the only sun we see all year that as soon as a feeble ray shows it's face through those clouds. OFF COME THE CLOTHES! Strip off, flash the flesh. Not an ounce of shame to be had outside that school today. Not every parent you understand, at least I don't think so....who can tell ? My eyes were so hideously fixed on this one woman I have no idea what everyone or anyone else was wearing or doing. Yesterday she wore a pink spaghetti strap top, today it was a black one. No bra.Pert little boobies, yes. Pendulous bazookas, please not. It is not a good look. Throw in some tattoos and a cigarette.......well why do I worry? Part of me envies such a devil may care attitude, how wonderful to be able to throw all caution to the wind and just wear what you like but is that fair to the rest of the population? As P.C as I long to be ( which isn't at all really because honestly, the world has gone insane since P.C was invented) there is no denying that some clothes really should be kept for smaller people.
Skimpy tops with no bra, in my opinion, come into this category. As do low rise jeans and shorts. Shorts all gathered up between thunder thighs are not attractive. Wobbly guts hanging over the top of jeans with a crop top and no bra make me want to gouge my eyes out with a bendy fork.
I always agree with the saying " just because they make it in your size, doesn't mean you can wear it!" Big women can look fabulous, some of them...can't seem to do it myself, but I see many BIG women who just ooze gorgeousness. I am in awe of them. Confidence has everything to do with it, class too and great clothes. You could take me to a top class place and dress me in the finest clothes and I would still look like a sack of spuds because I have no confidence, not a shred. I slump and frown and have that 'ooh please don't look at me, not worthy ' attitude. In photos I look like the mad aunt, usually hidden in an attic but allowed out once a year. Supervised. I am never going to believe that I can look big and beautiful. Not me.

Oh, let me clear something up. I am not stopping this blog, what I meant in the last post was that if I were to start a new blog, one where I could go back to telling all because no-one knew about it ...it wouldn't last long. I crave the comments I get, knowing people read this makes me love doing it. This one is for keeps, I just said that there wouldn't be much point in a private blog for me, as I said, I am a tart.

Reasons why I blog.

1. Because I can be in the depths of despair, blog that I want to run away and people ask me if they can come too. HOW COOL IS THAT? Where shall we go?
I vote we go to a country Inn, roaring log fires, home cooked grub, eat a lot, laugh a lot, talk about our husbands and kids a lot because THEY WON'T BE WITH US. We will sleep until we wake up all on our own. We will be pampered and treated like queens. Movies and books and uncomplicated thoughts.

2. I blog because I can. In my quest for adulation and laughter, I usually try to make my life appear humorous. When I can make myself laugh about the stuff that makes me cry.....yeehah. Worth it.

3. Because I am taken for granted. People in my real life, with the exception of my mum, forget to tell me when I am fabulous, or clever or funny. I need that and you give it to me. Thankyou. Don't stop. Please. Ever. Pander to my ego, I heart it.

4. I love to prove a point. There is such joy in being able to go back, find what I said/ they said, what happened, what I did / they did and being able to say SEE? SEE? Get out of that one matey.

5. It used to be my place to rant and tell the dark stuff but too many people read it now that know me ( not that you'd know, as they don't comment, meaners, comment I tell you, show yourselves. I have google, I know you are in RIGHT HERE and right there and a bus ride away, we could have lunch. I could come to your house and shout through the windows while you hide behind your couch and wish you had never delurked.)
Wouldn't you love to become famous by being mentioned on here? Be the envy of all Americans and canadians and Australians who long to spend time with me ( maybe in the way I long to have more children, that safe kind of longing because you know it won't ever happen. Phew.) Say Hello you Englandians! Especially the ones who live RIGHT DOWN THE ROAD!!
No self respect have I? Begging in the most shameless way.
I am a tad disappointed that I find myself editing endlessly so as not to tell too much. Maybe I will start a new one ...that will fizzle out because I love knowing people are reading, I am such a tart.

Another rough one.

Not much else to say except I am glad today is almost over.
Tomorrow? Can't wait.
Don't even want chocolate.
Things are bad.
I am so tired of everything. Shutting down is looking good. Running away looks even better.

Children are not mini adults.

There is something so maddening about people who think of children as little big people, nothing more than mannequins to dress up and parade about.


Isn't there?


Do you hate it too?









HA HA!! How cute are they? Can you imagine what I was like with Sophie? I didn't dress her like a little woman though, she was pink and frilly ( but never that shiny frilly, not nylon or wedding cakey frills, broderie anglaise frills thankyou very much. ) She was smocking and white leather sandals.

These boys though, they choose what they will during the week and they are all particularly picky about it too. Sundays though, I win, they get dressed in MY choice of clothes and thankfully they really love wearing these suits. Always white shirts although Eli's suit did come with a fetching lilac one.
( !Thud! whooooops there goes H in a dead faint!!)
Elijah even has mini brogues, that I stroke and exclaim over at every available opportunity.
LOOK! Tiny cute boy in suit and BROGUES!! Awwwwww. awwwwwwwwwww!! Kiss him and squeeze his cheeks.



I am so thrilled that Isaac likes his suit, he takes the jacket off as soon as we go to church but he loves the fact that it has an inside pocket to hide pens in.



My vanity is a stroked every week when we walk into church and I hear those little gasps and awwwww's. I actually believe that being dressed this way encourages them to behave more reverently too, ( maybe because it is just too dratted hard to climb under seats with a 3 piece suit on!)
So, even though children are not mini adults and even though they are not little dolls to dress and parade about like poodles.....its really really great fun to do it sometimes!!

Have I done any good?

Have I done any good in the world today
Have I helped anyone in need?
Have I cheered up the sad, made someone feel glad ?
If not, I have failed indeed.

Do your heartstrings need a twang? Do you want to read and cry and worry and then rejoice and then do something great???
Read THIS ...start at the very beginning, and then, if you feel the way I have since reading this story ( and I can't remember how I was led there but have been reading since the beginning) maybe make a donation to research.
Sometimes the enormity of this beast appears to be too huge for one person to beat but if millions do a little, well, huge things can be achieved.

Friday.

I like fridays. Usually. Today was a good one. It started early, at 2am. Sophie came into our room to say that some creepy men were outside. Scarey.
The fact that she had GONE OUTSIDE TO ASK THEM WHAT THEY WERE DOING!!!! Is so mind blowingly terrifying that maybe we'll skip that bit. That bit where she WENT OUTSIDE IN HER NIGHTCLOTHES ( which consists of knickers and a vest) and walked outside into the VERY DARK ALLEY and said " Excuse me, what are you doing?" to TWO men who were digging in skips that belong to a charity shop. We won't think about that.
Except we will because who, when they admit that they are scared, feels moved to go and ask what they are doing. WHO DOES THAT??? ( apart from Sophie) People in horror movies do that, while we, at home, the sensible, real life ones, sit and scream at the TV..... "DON'T GO OUT THERE YOU STUPID GIRL!!"
Anyway they said they were looking for any good stuff that had been donated. Sad. AM so very glad there wasn't a beautiful big gob girlie person in that skip this morning.
I love guardian angels, Sophie's are so hard working, she must have several, that do shifts. Thankyou Angels.
I also like living here, where people dig in skips at 2am because they want to find some new trousers, not because they are hiding dead bodies and guns and stuff. Devon, I love you. I do, even if does rain here all the damn time.
I think maybe that was a reason just to get me out of my room ( and bed, that I was sleeping so soundly in, zzzzzzzzzz) because she was sad. So sad.
She cracked, first time ever I have seen this girl child of mine show any vulnerability. Crumbled little sobbing thing. We spent an hour or more talking, really talking and she listened. I can't tell how much she heard and if she heard it, chances are she didn't like it because I told her that she isn't going to be happy unless everything changes.
If she doesn't like herself, how can she ask anyone else to like her? If she is always ready for a fight ...she will get one.
If she pushes people away..they will stop trying.
Her dad has been totally useless from day one with her. He has crushed her over and over and she IS crushed. She is and has always been so sad that he doesn't show he loves her. I had to tell her last night that that is heartbreaking and I have shed many tears over it but, it's how it is, nothing will ever make him be a good dad to her, nothing will bring back her childhood and fill it with a loving daddy that cherishes her and gives her what she deserves. What she has to do is learn how to be happy from now on. It's time to leave the past behind and grab everything that the future has for her.
I got to really love her. She believed it, she let me hug her, tight and mean it.
We went shopping today for stuff, birthday stuff for her flat. Pink stuff. Towels and plates and cups, bowls and spoons. ALL PINK! She wanted to be depressed that this was her birthday loot, but she likes it.
There will be more and it will be fluffy stuff, that will be a surprise for her. I just wanted to grab the chance to spend time with her while the going was good and also to try and get her a bit excited about her birthday. She feels that the only man she could rely on was papa, now he left her too, on her birthday. Try and make THAT better.

Jordan is working on finding a place too. Hell. Imagine.
He is in love and she is sweet and because she can't stay here, he stays where she is. Blimey, they really did get the message and life here is so much better when people do as we ask.
His job is going well and he is growing up, not drinking and saving money ...... Hell. Imagine. Thank heavens for something to breathe and not have to think too hard about.

Dancing class tomorrow.
I love saturdays.

Open wide!

The dentist. We did that again today, was it 6 months since the last appointment? yes, it is. Time flies doesn't it?
We played dentist, we donned gloves and laid down with open mouths and oohed and ahhed over how unpainful it is, Wow! how unscarey is this Isaac? What fun! We can hardly wait to get there and do the real thing! Pah!
Remember how last time, when you were so little you screamed and fought and screamed? Hard to believe that you did that when NOW you are such a big boy and brave and know that dentists are nice and friendly.
Isaac and mummy came in together , watch mummy Isaac, see? Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
Isaac's turn. Brave boy, sat in the chair ( progress indeed) he sat upright ( yippee) and then he turned away from the dentist and he shut his mouth, he shut his mouth very tight and then he clamped his lips in his fingers. Ah. Not so good.
How strong this little boy is when he feels overwhelmed by gloved strangers who want to look at him and touch him and are talking to him.
Not a sound.
Just clamped and rigid and terrified.
I think he actually goes deaf, the terror shuts off his ears and his mind and all he can do is silently plead that I not make him do this. There is little as heart rending as that whispered 'mum.'
When I know that this must be done and I can't whisk him away to safety, when I can't help him see that this isn't terrifying.
I so want the chance to get into his mind and feel what he feels, understand what it's like to feel so out of place in the world. Part of me envies him, does that seem bizarre? I love the idea of being able to shut out what we don't like. By choice, that would be terrific, how frustrating though to want to do something and have your head shut off without you asking it to.
He is quite the most delicious little boy, kind and loving and nowhere near as cross as he ought to be, given the limitations his head places on him.
When the fear is gone, threat is over, he clicks back into Isaac mode. Sweet and happy and usually unaware that he has been anything but cooperative. He will tell you how he went to the dentist and got a sticker. Fear forgotten.

I'm feeling a deep desire to switch off myself at the moment. Too hard, all this thinking. Too wearying, all this grown up stuff that I have been handed. Sometimes, the mother has to step back and let happen what needs to happen and that, for me, is nigh on impossible. I like to fix things and sort things and make it all good.
This time, I can't. I am helpless and have to just watch and wait and hold my breath. There is fear and rage and love and sadness and hope and more fear.
I am so angry and sad that this is how life is, did I make it this way? What did I do, or not do?
The specifics don't matter really. The details and the whys and wherefores, I hope to forget. Don't say them outloud or write them down and maybe tomorrow I can wake up and it will be done, finished, over. I know that a sticking plaster and a comic won't fix things. This is the big stuff, the life altering, lesson learning, character building, important stuff that has to be done, like it or not. I like it not.
How did my mum do it right? Have 5 children who never even once hated her or disrepected her?
How come I never inherited that gene instead of the painful ankles, gall bladder stones and hopeless sense of direction? I got my dad's gappy teeth and ridiculously curly hair..what happened to his mathematical genius?
Swearing is just such a great thing when you feel like this but I've rather lost the ability lately, bugger it all ( hooray, short relapse)
I'm sure that if I could just wander about doing nothing but yell 'Naughty F. Word off ' at everyone that irritates me, life would have new meaning. I just can't do it the way I used to, I manage the odd 'Arse' and after that, well, hopeless on the swearing front.
Pathetic I tell you, are there no joys left to me?
I am going now, to straighten my ridiculously curly hair, so I can sleep on it, and then go out in the rain. Life's just dandy isn't it?