If a job's worth doing......

It is most definitely worth doing well.



They came and they brought with them delicious treats....

Elijah loves Mel, yes he does.

Because these boys are divine....Sammy lifted his eye patch and said " Auntie Helen! It's Sammy under here!" Phew glad he let me know, was wondering who that scary pirate was.

The donut game.....outside, because I learned my lesson last year!!

WHAT? What is happening....why am I here and what am I wearing and why do all those old ladies keep kissing me and stuff?


Smile Imogen!
They decorated the room, they get to pose in it!

Be nice you girls!

The front room remained peaceful and pumpkin like and full of chocolate that is still here....mmmmmmm
And Elijah is so not too old to be a pumpkin, he wanted to wear it, I think it was the tights that did it. *sigh*


It is most definitely worth doing well.

Felt kinda good.

One of the things I have found most difficult in getting married and having more children is believing that I don't have to do everything myself.
More and more I see just how much of a control freak I am. Isaac's tooth came out yesterday and as H went up to bed I asked him if he would put £1 under Isaac's pillow because I knew I would forget.
This morning he said " That felt kinda good to be the tooth fairy, I never did anything like that before" it just made me think about how much I do that takes away from others the chance to serve, to enjoy experiences and to learn.
H reads to the boys, every night...they love it, it is an enormously important part of their day. Last week when we went into town I found a copy of Mrs Pepperpot stories, I LOVED Mrs Pepperpot when I was little and much fuss was made about the book. The boys turned their noses up at it and were very sure they would never be interested in such tales. H has been sick ( still!) and last week he had 2 days where he was completely out of action, so I read to the boys. Not the books daddy reads because they are so involved and I have no idea what they are about! So out came Mrs Pepperpot. They loved it, really loved it and now every night they ask if I will read that, not daddy read his stories. Every night I tell them that daddy will read and I will come up when he has finished and read Mrs P. Of course they are always asleep by the time I go upstairs, I wonder how long it'll take them to suss that one out?
H has really started to get into the Halloween thing this year, he has been adding to the decorations today and tomorrow we'll do he rest while the boys are at school, I'm even looking forward to it a bit.....tomato soup ( hot blood) muffins and popcorn is our contribution, oh and the candy Jane brought from the states ( although I wonder where all that pumpkin laffy taffy went? hmmmmm.)


English people can be so bloody boring of you ask me, I put somethings on ebay this week and I thought I was hysterical, felt sure one listing in particular would get some reaction. Zilch. Boring old gits, I ask you......

Would you look at this picture?? You want it, I know you do. I would love to want it, it was left in this house when we moved in. I know nothing about it except I have six children, I get headaches, I am old ( well 45, when you have 6 kids that feels old, believe me) This picture, as funky and alive and cool as it is, does not help my head. At all.
I have no idea who painted it, perhaps an Elephant and it is worth many thousands of pounds. An armless chap who used his feet or teeth and if that is the case then it really is worth a lot of money because the lines? Very straight, you try holding a ruler in your teeth and painting straight lines with your feet.....exactly.
My suspicions, judging by the state of this house when we moved in, the smell of unmentionable things also left behind and the plethora of magazines and DVDs that made me bleach my eyes, brain and hands after having to touch them ( and burning them, so do not email me and ask me to sell them to you, I am a good christian woman thankyouverymuch) I would say this was painted by a student, after a night on the town and a paracetamol or 3. If said student is , by some bizarre stroke of weirdness looking at this post and yelling IT WAS ME! No, it wasn't, it just looks like something you did one night and you definitely took yours with you. This is mine to do with what I will. You didn't mind a bit when I got rid of your rotting underwear and vomit soaked ..what WAS that that was soaked in vomit? Ewwwwww. So, don't try and claim this because you didn't sign it and it is most definitely mine. Shut up.
I have lived in this house for 6 weeks, this has been behind my sofa the whole time, on the wall, where it was left because as I said I so want to be funky and modern, also because I was afraid of what was hiding behind it. I have found many things hiding behind other things whilst cleaning this house. This picture is HUGE, there could have been any number of frightening, repulsive and dusty things hidden behind it. How happy I was when in a fit of something, I took it down and found just a wall, a nice clean wall even. Marvellous.
Now I have to go and measure it again because although I did measure it and convince myself that I would remember those 2 numbers for 36 seconds while I walked back into the lounge, I forgot to write them down and now 7 minutes have passed, my memory isn't what it used to be, my children sucked my brain cells out whilst in utero and kept them for themselves, so they could answer me back and win arguments and therefore prove that I know nothing and they know everything. They left me with enough brains to cook dinner, wash clothes and laugh at things that are probably tragic. And also, it would seem , spell, because I just hit spell check and I didn't make a SINGLE msitake ( I swear I didn't do that on purpose but it is just too funny to erase isn't it?) I mean mistake! Life is good and now this picture isn't in my lounge, I feel somehow lighter and carefee.
It is 65 1/2 inches x 54 inches. Huge....my sofa is hiding behind that picture right there. Very huge. I am assuming that the picture is the right way up....the beauty of it is who knows? Hang it this way, that way or the other, versatile as well as cheerful and funky. This really would look great somewhere, just not with my old lady pine, leather furniture and plastic plants, it is begging to live elsewhere ( aren't we all but who'd buy me and take me away from all this?)
So, you can imagine collection only unless you want to arrange a courier but I'm not sure I can afford enough brown paper to wrap it up, maybe an old sheet? Please come and get it. For the next 3 days I will guard it with my life, I will stop 3 little boys from throwing things at it, running at it at full speed and trying to use it as a slide. After that it's fair game and won't last more than 5 minutes. Please save it. And my eyes

Don't you think that's worth a bid or 379? Yes I thought so. Nothing. Banging my head against a brick wall. Mind you I do have some bids on this one....

2 new white shirts, size 16 1/2 collar, bought from M & S because their shirts are quite frankly beautiful and easy to iron, which matters. Bought by me for my husband who constantly tells me not to buy him his clothes because he is a grown up and able to do it for himself ( although laundering them would appear not to be in his job description as a capable human being) Anyway, I bought them and gave them to him and he tried them on and then told me again to please not buy him clothes, especially ones that are several sizes too big and make him look like a boy about to go to school for the very first time in a shirt that he will 'grow into'.
So here we are, 2 new shirts, never worn but lovingly washed and ironed, well one of them is ironed, in the front and sleeves so it looks lovely in the picture, the other one and the back of this one are not ironed because I have a life and to iron something that is going to be wrapped and mailed and tossed about by mailmen that worry not if they are creasing something, well that would just be foolhardy wouldn't it?
Happy bidding and good luck, I hope you have measured your husbands neck ( or your own if you buy your own shirts like some men I know) because if these are the wrong size after you have bid and won them, you will be on your own and have to live with the fact that you buy stuff without checking first. Rather like me.

So, at least those are selling. Honestly things are getting close now. 5 weeks tomorrow. FIVE WEEKS!! Bit scared really, you know, the plane...10 hours, up in the air, without the opportunity to get OFF and be on the ground. Scrap the bit scared and put in TERRIFIED. If I told you everything I was scared about you'd walk away from the computer shaking your head, because I am mistress of worrying about things that other people don't even think about. Somebody switch off my brain. Please.
What else can I sell, must be something else......actually there are many thing I can sell but H won't let me, he has nailed things down and hidden things and also forbidden me to sell dinosaurs and animals. Says they cost him his soul and he won't let me sell them for threepence ha'penny. I just have to say that he better start playing with them some time soon, never seen so many toys that aren't played with anymore. ( having said that, the boys found the boxes last week and have had a great time making Jurassic parks and Animal farms, our bathroom is filled with penguins and polar bears again, so maybe we will hang onto them for a while longer!)
Has anyone else been affected by 'Toy Story?' I haven't been the same since I watched that movie 6734 times in one year with Isaac, I'm not lying when I say that I actually sit on the toilet memorising how those animals are placed so I can catch them out when I have a pee in the middle of the night. I swear they move when I'm not looking, there was a wolf that had definitely moved the other night, I think I caught him just as he was about to eat a killer whale, HA! Foiled.
Ahhhh, that time of night when I can actually feel myself relaxing, it is 1.20am, maybe get an early night tonight! Night night.

When I was a lass, why we didn't have soft pumpkins to carve

So, I caved. On the party, I really thought I had managed to not do it, felt sort of smug and phew about it, can't afford it, can't be bothered, H still poorly. No party. Phew.
This morning, Isaac kept reminding me that it is monday, homenight day ( one day a week when we make sure no-one is busy, quick lesson of some description, activity and a treat. They love it, mondays are happy and today he seemed extra excited about it. After the 5th reminder that it was homenight tonight I said " you really love homenight don't you my boy?"
"Yes, and tonight, for our activity we are putting up ALL the halloween decorations"
Groan.
So, we're doing it, let's do a little party I said. Just a few people. 3 families, perfect. Make some phone calls and H said " we really should invite the kids in our classes" ( 15 total) Good idea " and their siblings because we should be fair" Uh huh. ( it is as well that some siblings are quite old because the siblings of the kids in our class......that's a LOT, one little girl has 12 siblings ( some married though so that's OK and the others are so divine, who wouldn't want them at our party and anyway I already called the mum)
So, I called my friend and said " How about the girls come over and help decorate for the party?" WHOOHOO! I just adore girls that are old enough to do stuff but young enough to still be REALLY enthusiastic about it. I got me 3 of those and a boy and a boy's mum who sat with me in a completely different room and chatted. Heaven.
I gave them the flat, totes full of decorations, some cardboard, 15 metres of black PVC material , pins and tape and said " DO whatever you like!" They had a blast. I did nothing and it looks great!


The lounge will be the pumpkin room, we did some of that but the rest on weds.
Everyone is bringing a plate of goodies, we're set.
H had little boys in the kitchen carving pumpkins that, when carved looked like afore mentioned little boys because ISAAC LOST A TOOTH TODAY, oh I have 2 little boys with gappy gobs, could I be more blessed?


Jane ( my friend) started to talk about when WE were young, we knew each other even then and our mums were friends and would have get togethers while we played ( isn't that the best that now our kids are friends, real friends?) so she started to talk about how we never had pumpkins when we were young, and that's right we didn't I had forgotten that. Halloween really has only just begun to catch on here, when we were young we used to carve TURNIPS! Or rather swedes which I believe are called something incredible like Rutabagas or something. Oh my goodness, can you imagine? It was so HARD, those buggers are solid, no cushy carving jobs did we ever get when we were young, we would scrape and chisel away at those vegetable rocks for hours and hours. Hammer and knives, anything hard and sharp to try and batter some shape into them.
I thought I would piddle myself laughing at the memories of the grunting and shabby results of trying to make a face out of those solid lumps of veg.
What a difference a year makes. H cut and scraped the pumpkins and then just gave the boys one each, I drew a simple face on each and Isaac and Seth carved them. Eli was in on it all and thinks he helped but he was a bit little to do much but sit on the table getting in the way and being delicious.
Isaac is so proud of the Jack O' lanterns....



I am pretty confident that it will be a lovely party, not nearly as grand as last year but every bit as much fun, there have been many requests for the doughnut game.....so we'll do that one but apart from that it'll be a case of kids just doing what kids do, grown ups enjoying some company and food and then home again home again. Happy kids and the Family get the kudos for halloween again. I love being known for having fun and opening our home to people. I also like that now I have almost overcome my hatred of this house and have actually invited people in, they are complimentary....I still feel surprise about that until I remind myself that it probably DOES look quite nice now and it's clean and has us in it. What's not to love??
The more good people we have here, the more fun, the more laughter and joy, the further away those miserable vibes go. It is beginning to be a happier place.

My friends, Romans and countrymen, I give you my boy!

Seth has Roman day tomorrow at school, he has been counting the days because history, it is his thang! He loves it, he reads it, lives it, breathes it.
We have been making his costume for a while ......he looks divine.

Facts of a frivolous and unimportant nature.

I was thinking today about the many things that make me me. Like the fact that I would really very much like to be remembered for smelling nice. I'll take not smelling bad but I love nice smells, I love fresh smells and am always momentarily stopped in my tracks by a good smell. You know those commercials where a person stops and sniffs as another person walks by and then behaves in a bizarre and irrational way? That's me, in my head. I have been that woman that follows a man and snogs his face off because he smells so bloody glorious ( in my head, if only I had been brave enough to actually do it)
I am the person that buys bread even if we have plenty because ahhhhhh they just baked it and that smell is irresistible to me.
Coffee, though I never drink a drop, that smell makes my mouth water and I feel great things when I walk past a real coffee shop, the old fashioned kind with rows of wooden boxes filled with every kind of fresh coffee.
So then I would love to be that woman that freshens a room just by walking into it, the one that you hug and can't help but say " oh you smell so lovely" it has never happened and I use lovely smelling things, I wash often and well, I use perfume a little ( can't quite bear to smell like a harlots handbag but a whiff of something lovely never hurts. ) I think I just must not have that lovely girlie kind of skin. Old leather and hard wearing that's my kind of skin. Bother it.

Today I was moved to tears by the fact that lately, everytime I get into my car, I love it. Imagine that. Such a crap heap it is ( according to Jordan) an embarrassment to be in. The thing is, it works and that is such a bonus to me. Not only does it work but it is such a tank. It has moved enormous furniture, gravel, people, boxes, fridge freezers, bikes, rolls of carpet,more gravel, the list is endless. The seats get pulled out the back door opened and it gets jammed full of heavy stuff and it still works ( if it reads this post and dies on me I am having it scrapped, mark my words! It does that, I just remembered, too late, that whenever I write about how it just keeps going against the odds, the damn thing dies on me. ) It is battered to hell and back, not a side or part of it that hasn't got bangs, scrapes, dents, rust, scratches and marks on it but it doesn't care. It is due for its M.O.T in april and I know, in my heart that it will have to be replaced, the plan is that I just take over my mums tiny little car that will squeeze us in and cost threepence ha'penny to run. I can tell you that as much as I have whined about my car, I will cry, real tears, when I have so say goodbye to it. The last 3 years it has cost us on average £600 to get it through that test and it ain't getting any newer! It isn't worth spending that kind of money on anymore. I won't miss spending £60 a week on petrol to do the school runs. Petrol is pretty much a £1 a litre, I put £10 in and it takes me 26 miles. That is insane and criminal I can't do it for much longer.

For the first time in over 22 years I almost no longer care that I am fat. Almost. I hate having fat hands, that bothers me because I used to have beautiful hands and now they are like butchers hands, not pretty anymore. The rest? How much more life should I waste hiding and cringing, feeling inferior because I am fat. None. I have come to the conclusion that I am never going to be thin, I am sure that I could be much slimmer, I know I can do it, but I don't.
I love food, cooking it, smelling it, serving it, feeding people, eating it. I love to entertain and cook and enjoy the whole experience of food. I actually pity people whose life is filled with watching and worrying and resisting food. I see many women in their lycra, holding water bottles and pounding the streets and winding roads as they run and exercise and I just don't get it. I know all about the rush that comes from exercise ( I read, I know stuff people!!) but none of these people look happy, they look like they hurt and could have so much fun sitting with friends and enjoying some good food and a laugh.
I think of all the things I haven't done because *gasp* I am fat. People I haven't met up with because I am fat, I have never yet, in my life, met a person who meant less to me because they were fat, or thin, or black or white or ugly or beautiful . Not one. I am a bit scared of tiny people. Purely because standing next to tiny people makes me feel so gigantic and ungainly and I worry I will squash them if I were to suddenly and inexplicably lose the ability to stand up and fall on them. If there is a soul on the earth that would think less of me because I have a wobbly belly and a huge arse.....well I hope I don't meet them and if I do I will feed them egg and chips with thick bread and butter to make a butty and dare them to not like it. With cake for dessert. So, when I come to America in 5 weeks and 3 days time and I maybe meet you ( Y, from http://www.joyunexpected.com/ ( I tried, a clever and cool link just would not work..have to do it the old fashioned way, sorry!)
who actually says we should get together and I might just die of excitement, or laughing or shyness. Or Elise from http://elise.blogs.com/ who may be in LA being posh and buying for her boutique,where I want to work and watch mad people steal things so I can catch them and be a heroine for her, answer the phone to people who want reservations at the eatery next door and answer requests for ornaments she doesn't sell) or am reunited with you ( Marilyn) be ready to see that I am indeed fat but remarkably unashamed about it these days, imagine that.
I wish I could organise a blogging party in my hotel room......how wonderful that would be. I just am hopeless at telling myself that people would actually come and then I would be 7 again at the birthday party that no-one came to, no-one but Josephine who popped in to say she couldn't come and gave me a pen with a sailing boat in it that 'sailed' from one end of the pen to the other and then left. I never want to feel THAT again so I'm not inviting anyone. Also,my kids will be there and they are very loud so we wouldn't be able to hear each other anyway. It would be fun though, if you are in LA , wouldn't it?

I sort of wish I wasn't known for being loud. I am loud, I have the kind of voice that carries, especially when I don't want it to. I can read a story, without shouting, just in my regular voice and be heard in Seth's room AND the little boys bedroom that are at opposite ends of the hallway.
I have had people say things to me like " Oh..I heard you in town last week" not " I saw you in town" oh no, they heard me.
I am heard wherever I go by everyone that didn't spring from my loins, if I gave birth to you I can't be heard. At all, especially when I shout, unless there is food involved, I can whisper "anyone want chocolate?" and they come running from 2 miles away, anything else..forget it. . I was made for public speaking, in the days before microphones.
So, some completely unimportant facts that make me who I am.

Putting my foot down, with a firm hand. Indeed.

I like to think that these days, I am more relaxed about the small things, stupid people and matters of little import. Gone ( I thought) are the days of spending several minutes pointing out the virtue of good manners to a curt bus driver for example, he's probably had a bad day and feels inclined not to be polite to passengers, let is pass. Mostly.
I thought that was the case anyway. I am beginning to think that my depressed brain just couldn't be bloody bothered, go to hell, who cares.
I suspect the old me is creeping back OR my dad is living vicariously and / or posthumously through my mouth. Oh dear.
We have an Asda store in our town ( blimey, nearly mentioned the town then) and it charges you to park. Can you imagine. So you drive out of your way to get there, park your car, get a ticket ( that you have to pay for good grief!) walk back to your car ( probably in persistent rain and winds this time of year and even in June) put the ticket in plain view and then go shopping. REFUND they say, promise that when you pay for your shopping they will refund your parking fees. As long as you spend a minimum of £10 TEN POUNDS!! Oh, forgot to say that they also have a token thing, when you spend more than £10 they will give you a token to use next time so you won't have to fish about for a £1 coin.
So, last week I went shopping at 7.15pm and I spent £9.64.
" Oh, for heavens sake, I know you are going to give me a token aren't you?"
" no, sorry, we can't, you haven't spent £10 and it is after 6pm"
"I beg your pardon?" ( can you hear me, in my most affronted and plummy accent?)
" It's after 6pm so you don't need to pay"
" I understand that BUT I don't need a token for NOW do I? I'm going HOME now, I need a token for next time, which will almost certainly be in the daytime"
"Sorry I can't give you a token"
She was about 12 I imagined ( rather kindly) that she was a bit afeared of the rules and regulations and wasn't wordly enough to know that there are times when just handing over a token to a woman who
a) obviously likes her food and shops here regularly to buy it all
b) is clearly spoiling for a fight and has that look of righteous indignation
c) is not going to stutter and say "oh alright, sorry
is just the very best thing to do.
So, hackles raised I marched straight to customer services and repeated my request. I was given exactly the same reply by the woman who should have known better. Eventually this terrier dropped the rat and gave up, saying " Tescos is looking better and better to me"
Well darn it if the very same thing didn't happen again this week, spent just less than £10 ( can you believe it? Hell this scrimping and saving malarchy is really getting dull, better be a fantastic holiday in December because the run up to pay for it is bloody miserable) Miserable buggers wouldn't give me a token, so I told the bewildered man on the till that this was the very last time I would be shopping in this store, the ruling was absurd and Tescos would be getting MY custom from now on, yes indeed. I tried not to notice the look of absolute indifference on his face, why should he care after all?
I emailed head office because I am SO annoyed and why be cross with the poor people on the till when they can't do anything about it?
I went shopping at Tesco just now and in front of me was a lady a bit older than me and she bought cakes and at least 8 magazines. I leant over and said
" Excuse me! Can I come to your house and sit on your sofa, drink hot chocolate and read all those magazines with you? I can picture what heaven you are going to be in and I want some. Please." She laughed and said her husband had promised he wouldn't be working this weekend and now said he would be so she was holing herself in, sitting down and not moving all weekend. Marvellous, she didn't give me her address though, wonder why.

I have been trying not to do the halloween party. I have no spare money and even less enthusiasm. Unfortunately way too many people remember last year and I keep getting emails, facebook messages etc about what and when and how......I was out today and saw in a charity shop about 15 yards of black PVC material...if that wasn't a kick up the arse I don't know what is.......so we'll do it and ask people to bring a plate of goodies, if they are asking me to put on the party I am sure they won't mind chipping in on the food etc.
Anyone want to come to my creepy house on wednesday??

Thankyou Lord.

Every now and again, I will see something that halts time. Just for a second. It will squeeze my heart and my soul will take a picture. Those moments that you want to capture and hold onto and have as yours forever.
This was one of them today.....









Little, still nearly baby legs, in baggy boxer shorts, tinyish feet in loose and droopy socks, on tiptoes waiting for a drink of milk.
My last baby, my last chance to grab these sights that pass too quickly.
These boys laugh at me when ~I exclaim in horror at their getting taller, growing older, losing teeth, discarding nunnies and comforters.
WHAT???? STOP! NO! STOP GROWING! They laugh and stand on tip toes and show me how HUGE they are. And my heart cries a little.
I didn't feel this way with the big kids because my heart knew there would be more. I gloried in the goals and growings of Daniel and Jordan and Sophie ( apart from the day she flatly refused white leather sandals at the age of 7. My heart cried that day because I sing at the sight of little girls in white leather sandals and ankle socks)
This time though, we're done. My baby growing bits are shrivelling as I speak, H's baby giving bits are snipped and safe ( sorry H, TM of your I for the world at large I suspect) No.More.Babies.
I know I will be a Nana and will love every second and I may perhaps ( probably) tell myself that without ME that little dot of perfection wouldn't be here, but I won't e able to look at catch that moment of sheer joy and tell myself that I made that.....look, clever me.
So today I stared at those little legs and feet and hugged the sight to my heart because he is mine. Thankyou Lord.

Nothing short of.....

....a miracle.
I took the first tablet last night, I then slept for 7 hours and when I woke this morning, not a mark, spot, blemish, scratch, welt or itchy bit. None, not one, anywhere not even in my buttcrack, which has been the site of the biggest itch for 3 days and that is not funny even in a blogging kind of way.
I went to sit and open my laptop and thought, " actually I might go and do that kitchen...."
That my dears is REALLY miraculous, since September 15th I have done laundry and that's it, I have walked past ironing piles, dirty dishes, discarded toys, vacuum cleaners, windex, dusters and H as he does it all. I have stood at the bottom of my stairs and wondered if I have the strength to walk up them and then wept because now what?
I went into the kitchen and I scrubbed and washed and wiped. I bleached little boys' filthy stained white socks, I washed some more. If H hadn't already vacuumed and cleaned and tidied the house so beautifully for the last few weeks, I would have done so much more. I even stood in the doorway of the dog pooh ( no pooh at all but can't shake the memory of) /devil's / garden room and wondered what I could do to make it a place belonging to our home instead of a carbuncle on the horizon.
So astounded was I having slept for 7 hours that it was H that noticed first that I was no longer a welty old scratch bag, true to form he just raised his eyebrows after I had replied to his query about how well I slept and said "itching?" and it must have been almost comical to watch as I looked at my arms and legs and then hands and feet, belly and stroking neck and touching head ( that I swear has been the one place to have not even a seconds respite in this whole nightmarish time) declared that " OH SWEET JOY I AM NOT ITCHING ....would you LOOK AT MY CLEAR SKIN???"
I feel beautiful and clean and so grateful to my tweed wearing lady doctor I can scarcely begin to verbalise it.
I have called people and told them and heard many sighs and hoorahs because as much as I have whined and complained and described here about how truly miserable I have been, to have been anywhere near me these past weeks must have made it clearer that I AM SO BLOODY ~MISERABLE~ PLEASE HELP ME.
I took my 2 daytime tablets and have had ( so far) a complete day of still not itching. Seth asked me why I was touching my head earlier if it's not itching and I told him that I am just feeling to convince myself that there really are no wheels or bumps or itching patched.
There aren't.
Maybe I can even colour the grey out in a few days. Colouring my hair makes my head itch, there has been no way I could risk adding anything to my poor scalp that would make matters worse, I have grey roots that must look like a heavenly halo when my hair is pulled back, white hair all over my head. I could grow it out and never have a soul question whether I am really old enough to be a grandma, in fact people would assume my own boys are my grandchildren. Life has made my hair whiter than white. Now I can cover up and convince myself I am a just flipperty jibbet again, even if I am not convincing anyone else!
I am honestly, truly grateful to feel so well. Where's that mountain 'cause I'm ready to move it!

Clear as mud. ( edited to add some more bits!)

So, I went to the dermatologist. Was it helpful? I'm not at all sure. She says I have chronic urticaria, so no surprise there then. She is positive that this has never been scabies. Good, makes me feel less like I ought to be ringing a bell and yelling "UNCLEAN!"
She was pleased that I have had the screening for lupus, said that would mean she didn't have to order the tests and so we await the results with what? Hardly baited breath, whatever this is has been around a long time and doesn't appear to be going anywhere any time soon.
The Dr was a bit impressive, she was in her late 50s I would guess, she had severely bobbed hair and in the style of Miss Jean Brodie, was wearing a tight tweed suit, complete with horseshoe brooch on the lapel and lyle stockings. I tell you that only because it was so great to meet her, ladies like this are so few and far between these days, fresh from a black and white movie her accent was deliciously plummy and she used phrases like "oh please do" which make me happy, so much nicer than " why not" or " OK."
I felt both intimidated and comforted by her very presence. I love England, I love the most English parts of my country, the almost forgotten good manners and the accents, the beautiful turn of phrase that so few people use anymore.
I'm not sure how I feel about today, Dr lovely voice prescribed me some new meds. An antihistamine for the day and one for the night. The night time one is a sedative/ antihistamine. I am quietly excited about the fact that this might mean some SLEEP, real sleep.
She did say that this whole skin thing has gone beyond a rash, or itchy skin. It is now a chronic condition and my old antihistamines are too pathetic to make any difference now. I hope these new ones work, I really hope that don't make me too much more dopey or dim ( can't afford anymore dopey or dim, we're at the all time acceptable limit, I kid you not!!)
She says they could take a while to kick in ( although the sedative ones are supposed to work within 15 minutes) I look forward to the day when I can go out in public without swollen welts that I try to pretend aren't there, I try not to notice people flinch as they take money from my scabby, itchy, swollen hands.
Oh, also, the night time antihistamine is also used for anxiety, so perhaps I shall become a laid back, well rested, unitchy gal any day now, whoopie.
*******************************************************************

So, I have had some time to think and must say that it did feel good to be seeing someone who was confident with her stuff. GPs tend to be vague when faced with a specific problem that won't go away and that's when we get referred to a specialist. The Dr today wasn't phased, didn't hmmmmm or wonder or think, she just looked and asked a ton of questions. Naturally I have googled since I came home, looked up the meds she gave me and feel reassured that she really knew what she was doing.
Interestingly, she asked about the other meds I take, when I came home and researched, it would seem that the blood pressure medicine and also the dyhydrocodiene are both known to aggravate chronic urticaria. I have taken half a dose of the dyhydrocodiene tonight, she thought that the BP med wouldn't be a problem as I started them months before the onset of this latest flare up.
It is beginning to get cold here, cosy with the heating on ...do the clocks go back this weekend? I think they must do soon, then we get the cosy dark evenings, I love that.

I don't remember this bit...at all.

I think I must have selective memory. I seem to think back to raising Dan, Jordan and Sophie and have fluffy moments of recalling sweet smelling squishy people who were always clean and tidy and pleasant to be around. So what happened?
I do laundry, tons of it, I pick up clothes and wash them and give them out to little boys. I clean and wash and wipe and trim and battle against all odds in an effort to keep these boys clean. I am losing. They are 3 of the stinkiest, grimiest, sweatiest, dirty nailed buggers you will ever come across.
I trim their nails almost obsessively, yet always, when we get to school and I sit and read with them I will notice to my horror that Isaac has 3 inch nails with half a ton of black Plasticine underneath them. He oozes slime, I swear I could sterilise this kid and shut him in a sterile room and he would come out with his head plastered in a stinky sweaty glob and his nails filled with mud.
Elijah somehow manages to get pen everywhere, I mean everywhere, not a part of his body escapes a scribble. No matter how often I scrub this kid he will still have green stripes somewhere, along with the toe jam and obligatory grime filled nails.
Seth. Oh my goodness. He somehow wins the stomach churning revoltingness test. He has the longest nails, I can clip them to the quick and the next day they are talons again, I cut his toenails today and I kid you not I was heaving as I did it, he was thrilled and held up the ghastly clipping from his left big toe and said " Hey you could make a NECKLACE with that!"
He hates to have a bath, until he is there ( and then I can't get him out) he will run and hide and cause all kinds of stress and vein bulging anger in order to avoid getting his stinky little body into that bubbly water. Yesterday I was bathing Eli and Seth came running upstairs, he ran into the bathroom and then
"Argh! NO! NOT bathtime.....oh, I SO ran into that one!" Even he saw the humour in that one and was gracious enough to get in the water without too much of a battle.
I cut their hair today, another battle of wills, although ( with the exception of Seth, who does nothing without a fight these days) it was pretty painless, Eli is always a good boy at haircut time, Isaac said ( in a rather grown up fashion)
"oh the sooner I start the sooner it will be done" and sat super still without too much fussing ( although his head was SO sweaty, that always hurts with the clippers) I also cut nails, fingers and toes.
They had another bath and I stood for quite some time, staring at the bath after the water had emptied, toying with the idea of taking a picture, you really should be able to see what that bath looks like once they are out. But I won't show you because I didn't take a picture. This time. I have a smidgen of pride left and if I were to show you what the bath looks like after 3 little crap magnets have been taken out, after haircuts, well I wouldn't be able to hold my head up again for a long time.
They all have clean, matching PJs on, clean toes, sweet smelling short hair. Divine, it will last until the morning and then they will be sweaty, stinky, grimy little oiks again.
I miss that baby smell. I miss the sweet breath and velvet skin. I think back to being able to bite a tiny finger nail to stop it scratching and never, no NEVER can I imagine biting these nails now.
When he's had a bath and is asleep, if I kiss Elijah's neck and breathe in deeply I can almost catch a faint whiff of baby but it's disappearing.
In a few months time I will have my grandbaby to sniff. The Lord is good and I shall be sure to cherish every breath of that baby smell.
When I make myself remember, I think there were times that my big kids were stinky , Jordan hated bathing when he hit 10 for a while but really, they were fastidious kids, Sophie never minded getting dirty but the boys hated it. Sophie never got smelly until she started smoking, she was sweet and fresh smelling.
I am completely sure that my other three were never as grotty as these little gits. Totally sure.

Can you believe this boy?

The pictures tell the tale, I am standing on my driveway while Isaac goes to the STORE!!

Off he goes....


Crossing the road.....


Look how excited he is!!
And then I waited and waited and he didn't come out......Hmmm. maybe he freaked and couldn't hand over the money for the newspaper after all. I sent Seth in..........he came out and said " I can't find him,. he's not there" And OH! I sent him on his own and stood outside on the other side of the road and someone has.......so I went in and Seth was running and saying " He's not here!!" and I felt sick because someone must have whisked him out of the back door .....oh what was I thinking......and there he was, in a huge line, tucked behind a tall man and in front of a big lady, paper in his hand and
" Go OUT! I can do it!"
So we went back out and waited outside the house....


and there he was, on his way home..... and all cool and hand on hippy, like this is nothing, what's the big deal....ha!


This is how close the shop is, I am standing in my drive.......talk about handy when you run out of milk or bread or chocolate.
What an enormous deal for my boy, doing that on his own and handing over money, waiting in a line with PEOPLE in front and behind and talking to him ( even if ignored them because he did I am sure!). He is a hero.

And sometimes, things are bloody marvellous. Thankyou.

I have had a great morning, one of those that make you feel just maybe life ain't all that bad.
I woke up late ( Yeay!) and H was organised, had the boys up and fed, Isaac ( still the only one in school) ready and excited that he was going on the BUS with daddy to school.
My doctors appt was at 9.45am and so I dropped Seth and Eli at mum's and headed into town. I walked past my favourite curtain/ fabric store and saw they had a ton of beautiful fabric for £1 a Metre. WOW! I bought 10 metres of material that I intend to make some glorious cot bedding with, enough to make for Mel and another set to sell on Ebay ( maybe if I am brave enough). Went to get my blood taken for testing and as I put my shopping bag on the floor noticed that there was a £5 note sitting on the top of my shopping! Not mine ( well it is now!) no idea where it could have come from, except I popped into see Mel at work on my way to the Drs, someone must have dropped the money in her shop and it landed in my bag!
On the way back to the car, there in a charity shop window was a beautiful, pretty much new moses basket..£10. Strike! So, my grandbaby will now have a beautiful moses basket and some pretty nifty, unique ( nothing run of the mill for my blood!) cot bedding.
Mel and Jordan know that if I buy or make anything they don't like or want they just have to tell me to keep it here to use when grandbaby comes a-calling. I am not going to take over and spoil their fun ( no, I am not....will not, must not.)
Oh...OH! Last night a friend came around, she has been asking me to take some pictures of her for a while, so she came and asked if I could do them this next week. She asked how much I wanted for doing this for her and when I said nothing, she said " oh yes, well what I'll do is give you what I was hoping you'd ask" and gave me £50!!! FIFTY QUID! Well that has gone right in a hidey place in my purse and is getting changed into dollars, my spending money for our holiday! I will take a ton of pictures and get them developed for her as well as give her a CD of pics.
Had the blood tests and some will be back on tuesday, others will take 2 weeks as they are special ones that need time, so longer wait for those.
So, this has been a splendid day so far. Marvellous.

Mummy called the doctor, the doctor said...

Well, actually I went to the doctor, lovely understanding doctor who pats me and tells me to do the lottery and get rich.
I balked a little at telling her that in the 2 weeks since I saw her last I had gained a medical degree from the school of google and knew that I had Lupus. She was very patient, even as patient as she was, I still saw that involuntary flinch and grimace that real doctors give when faced by a self diagnosing, neurotic hypochondriac. She took a deep breath and then said "hmmmmm"
Then "Actually I can see why you would think that, why don't we order the blood tests, although there are many and still not terribly reliable. Your full blood count has always been so good which would throw me as that would very often be out of whack. Also, the lab might refuse to do them without cast iron conviction that this is a strong possibility. Lets do it anyway."
So tomorrow morning we are going to get that done, so we are.
I impressed her with my in depth description of all 3 types of itch that I have, ( and never even for a second let on that she thinks I spend way too much time pondering and then detailing my every woe) She is almost as excited as me about my appointment with the dermatologist on monday, she even had me promise to share with him my vast thoughts and descriptions of my skin and welts, itches and aches. I'm sure it's because she so wants me to be healed and made completely well ( and not so she doesn't have to deal with me) and not at all because she has a warped sense of humour at the thought of a colleague having to listen to me wittering on about myself at length.
As I left she said " Helen...stop googling!"
Talking of wittering on, as I waited for my doctors appointment, the receptionist called "Helen!" ( oh yes, first name terms thankyouverymuch)
"are you supposed to be seeing Mandy today?" ( Mandy the counselor) seems I was, so right from Dr to patient listener I went. The rotten thing about a new listener is the fact that you have to start from scratch and tell the whole sorry tale again, as I rattled of my list of problems it struck me just how bizarre and crazy our family and life is! Still, it's my life and I probably wouldn't change it for anyone else's. She is going to try and get me back with lovely Jan because really, the thought of starting again when I could just settle right back with Jan and tell her the new stuff, it just seems the most sensible thing to do.
I turned cold here overnight, Brrrrrrrrr, winter might be on it's way. I have worn a jumper all day and not felt hot or sweaty....Oh dear.
Yesterday, I actually paid ONE POUND, £1 for a LITRE of petrol. That is ridiculous, if there are about 4 litres to the gallon, that's £4 a gallon, $8. Beyond stupid and ridiculous. Frightening. Something will have to give, I just can't keep spending what I do on petrol, our car does 13 miles to the gallon, old jallopy that it is. £20 every other day, just to do the school runs, I fit shopping in around the school run and have had to cut out any fun trips. Still £60 a week on petrol. Hell. Might have to walk yet.
No school next week, 10 days without driving the 3 trips to and fro and dropping off and picking up, heaven. Sheer heaven. I often hear people say they would love a housekeeper or someone to do the ironing, me? I'd have someone pick up and collect the kids from school, I just hate that job!
In 7 weeks we will be in California, time is flying by and we are beginning to really think about how wonderful it will be. H is talking about heading down to visit Rob and his mom, taking the boys and leaving me, alone in a posh hotel, for 3 days. Imagine. Huge bed, room service, pool, breakfast....peace and quiet, sunshine........imagine!

A sign of the times....

Ever think......

About all the time wasted along the way?





The older I get, the faster life flies by and the more I see how much more I could do with my life. I would so love to be able to escape this fog and run with the flow.


I wonder what I would do differently if I had the chance to go back and change things. I don't want to find myself in a corner, with crumbling bones wishing I had been braver.
My insides are so different to the woman the world sees. My blog person is more like the real me, not this stumbling weakling that leaves the house every day. What is it that stops the real me fighting through the village idiot that controls my body?

In an English country.......front room???

I am going to post this, even though I suspect it will cause envy of such magnitude you will hardly be able to contain yourselves.
We have something you don't have, I would put money on it.
Shall I show you? It's the front room, dog pooh room, carpetless what shall we do with it room, now known as the garden room.
Awwww, the garden room, because it is turning into a garden...for real.
We have foliage, growing up out of the floor.


See? Hahahahahahaha. Ha.

Actually I am beginning to feel differently about this room, I think the devil has moved out and the angels have planted a garden, or something. It doesn't feel so dark and I can go in there and picture it with carpet and pretty things, nice curtains and well, as a room. The foliage will have to go though, that's for sure!
Life is full of little moments isn't it?

There's none so queer as folk. ( and an update!)

It's 2am and I am sitting here with a sad little Isaac curled next to me. He has toothache, horrible toothache that has had him running up and downstairs in an effort to escape it. He has bizarre teeth that have had me worried for as long as I can remember, they look hollow! Tiny sharp little teeth that look as if they have nothing in the middle, beautifully white but obviously not as they should be. We have tried getting him to the dentist and he fights, with every ounce of strength he can muster. Holds his jaws tightly shut with his hand over his mouth and he kicks, and fights and if he could scream without it giving Magda the nice dentist a good view, he would.
Because he hasn't ever complained about pain, we have sort of, well no actually no sort of about it, completely allowed ourselves to cross our fingers and hope that these empty little pearly whites will just fall out without a problem and new strong teeth take their place. No such luck.
It has to be said that I have been the healthiest of people in this house....Lawks, you can imagine what that says about the rest of them can't you? There has been an extraordinary illness in our home that has knocked them all for six, the usual snot and coughing but along with that came a leg ache, everyone of them ( including H ) has woken in the night with crippling leg pains. Isaac has just begun to be better, albeit with a cough that is sticking around, Eli has so far escaped it, Seth and H are still wiped out.
It's been a long week, so it has.
My Isaac seems to be settling after some tylenol melts, Ibuprofen, a warm wheat pack on his cheek and some warm milk. There is a dentist in town that uses sedation, I think we will have to try and get him in there and let them knock him out to get a look at these weird little teeth that as tiny as they are appear to have the ability to send him nearly crazy with pain.
I am such a wuss when it comes to my kids in pain. I always want to run away .....hide my head and pretend LALA LALA, with fingers in ears that nothing is going on. When I make myself accept that I have to do something, the next step is to be grumpy and WHAT? HOW? try and grump them out of it all.....BAH! But when I can see that this is real, not some piddling little graze that could have been avoided if they'd just stop bloody climbing and jumping, well then I am quite nice.
I like it that all our boys are happy for either H or I to comfort them, they have no preference. I tend to be the medicine giver, the wound dresser and back patter, H is the snuggle for hours and not even tut or sigh waker upper. Such patience. If I am awake I can stay awake all night and be fine. If I get woken up....uh oh, Florence Nightingale I am not. So they always wake H.
We always woke our dad, always. Mum is almost completely deaf in her left ear, so she would sleep on her right ear and well, that made for a great nights sleep! Once or twice we would try and wake her, more for entertainment purposes really because she would, if we managed to rouse her a little, say the most extraordinary things, like
" Mum! MUM!, Mummy, I have a tummy ache....MUM!"
" yes, you take that end and I'll take the other....PULL!"
Not much help. So we'd walk around dad's side of the bed and touch his shoulder and he would fly awake. He always knew what to do. " Awwwww darlin', have you? Poor you, go back to bed, lie on your left side, curl your legs up and stay still, your tummy will get better in a minute" and it pretty much always did.
I bet my mum tells everyone her kids slept through the night from 2 weeks and never woke up from then on.
Sometimes I think H is a bit soft on the old waking up at night thing. I was a tough old cow with Dan, Jordan and Sophie, I NEVER had them in bed with me, sleep has always been precious to me, my bed is my haven....so if they woke I would calm them, settle them and always put them back to bed as quickly as I could. H is always guided by the boys, he will sit downstairs with them all night if they need it, he will lie with them and have them on his lap all night and I have never heard him get grumpy or irritable because he is uncomfortable or his legs have gone dead. I am in awe of his patience and so never say a word about toughening up, I can't see how anyone is harmed by his softness, what memories these little boys will have when they grow up, remembering how they were snuggled and loved and comforted every time they needed it. I am sure they will, in turn, make splendid parents because I hope they will want to pass on such security and love to their children.
I was very wise to marry a man like my dad, he is so like my dad it scares me sometimes, who'd have thought there could be two men like him in the world?
What that means is that I get to be the funny one at night....cool. Sleep on mothers of the world, I think we do our fair share in the daytime don't we?
There is something quite glorious about watching Miami Ink with a 6 year old at 2.30am. He thinks the women with tattoos all over their bodies are a bit freaky too and OW! I don't get the tattoo thing at all. I am mesmerised by this show though, some of those tattoos are out of this world, I just think a nice framed picture that you can put away when you get sick of it is a much better idea.
We just saw a lady who had her deceased husband's face tattooed all over her arm. He died when he shot a policeman, drunk and out of control he shot the cop and then was shot dead by other policemen. She is so young and I can't help but think of her future, sure to meet another love at some stage, now she has this huge face of her cop shooting, dead husband for ever on her body. ( he wasn't the most attractive of men in my opinion either sadly.)
Just doesn't seem like a good plan to me but oh well, it takes all kinds I suppose.
Then there are the fathers who think that having their kids tattooed all over their bodies somehow proves they are a good daddy.
*sigh*
One man had a huge tattoo to show his love for his Auntie, who is a very old nun. He felt sure that old auntie nun would be stoked to see how much he loves her by getting a big old permanent tattoo all over his chest. I suspect she would have been much happier to see him in a nice suit carrying some scriptures and going to sing with her in church, what think you?
Anyhoo, looks like my little tooth monster might be relaxing a bit, we might try and get some sleep. Night night.
***************************************************************************

So, we went to the dentsit at 9.30am. The boy jumped into the seat, opened wide and sat, mouth WIDE open without flinching while she drilled ( without ANY kind of anaesthesia!!) and filled and poked and prodded, received 2 stickers, much praise from Magda and cousin Ben ( who is a dental nurse at the practice and was 'specially sent to help Magda to ensure Isaac felt a little more at ease) and smiled his way out, feeling very proud of his new white filled tooth. This boy will never cease to amaze me, we were all ready for a trip to the childrens dental clinic but he said he wanted the one he has been to before and he didn't let us down.
Here's hoping that all is well now, last night was heartbreaking, to see him sucking on that sore tooth and the tears, those silent tears plop plopping all night. Great news that the rest of his teeth are great, the front ones have been worn down and are a bit soft, 2 bottom ones are wobbly and the rest are perfect. Phew.

Like a coiled spring... or a mad woman.

I went out this evening, I felt that I probably shouldn't because I am on the edge. I am beyond weary, with my 3 hours a night sleep and my heavy bones. I am not having too much fun although I can say I don't feel as though I am in the doldrums as such. I am particularly emotional and quick to take offence, not to mention short tempered with idiots.
I was about to drive away from the school today and hadn't yet moved, so I knew that I hadn't cut in front of this man who for some reason, known only to his stupid self got level with my car and was obviously yelling at me.
*sigh*
What to do? Apologise for what? Breathing, being alive.......WHAT?
No, what I did was stare right back at him and say " Oh shut up!"
All better, drive away and make sure he was behind me while I stuck to the speed limit ( and just under) and let everyone I came across out and wave them all on, it took an extra 10 minutes to get to the main road....there rude idiot, betcha wish you'd just driven away and shut your stupid mouth don't you?

I keep reading various things where parents state how worried they are that their child is autistic, parenting boards and blogs and such and just lately, because I am so weepy and internally ( for now) confrontational I feel slighted. I take this personally as though these loving and worried parents have shut me in a room and are yelling in my face "I HOPE MY KID IS NOT LIKE YOURS!" I know they aren't. I know they are just hoping that their child is ' normal' and won't have to face the trials that we face with delicious Isaac. Yet still, it hurts.

So, I went out ( did you remember I started that train of thought forever ago?) and we had a fun evening at Gemma's house, a few women and me. We were having fun and eventually the photo albums came out, what fun.
Julie ( my sister) had one photo album and was chatting about the people in one picture.
" Oh that's Eddie and his girlfriend or whatever he is..they are gay"
Stab!stab! OW my heart.
Shut up, bite your tongue.
Then she made a couple more comments along those lines and my tongue ( and heart ) escaped my control, I lost it.
I sobbed and when I cry,my voice is loud and I quite strongly voiced my opinion that as a mother of a gay son I hated hearing such comments and when I was subjected to such talk felt the desire to smash heads against walls. Gah.
I said , more than once that gay people are PEOPLE, there are good gay people and bad ones, but they are people and as different as you and I.....when I hear
"those gays" or " he/ she whatever it is" my blood boils and my heart breaks.
When I hear those things from someone who loves me and knows my boy and who LOVES him.....well it hurts even more because it is so damned thoughtless, not at all a personal attack but just a thoughtless quip, random words not thought through. I just wish people WOULD think.
Did I make those kind of comments before it mattered to my heart? I know sometimes I can say things that are hurtful without realising it, who do I hurt when my mouth runs away with itself?
We had some of those stunned moments where no-one is quite sure what to say and then it was fine.
I should have stayed at home. Sorry Gemma.

Night night.

This is 7.30pm every evening.....warms my heart.



Isaac's turn to be Lantern boy.


Night night xxxxx

Skippedy doo dah.

Hold onto your hats everyone, this one might be a happy post!
Blimey.
I have had good news. Our holiday is looking better than ever today because we can now visit with grandpa and enjoy it.
There was something hanging over my head that was making the whole trip a bit scary and miserable that has GONE. Everything is rosy and shiny and skipping in the sunshine-y.
I am all melting in a heap of happy as I type, with one pyjama leg pulled up so I can scratch, even the itch isn't taking the smile off my face, the way is clear for 3 weeks of pure enjoyment, whatever we like, when we like.
If only I could tell you what has changed, but I can't, unless you email me and then I will. ( Intriguing no? Actually no, but all in a day's blog)
I had a lovely time with Jordan and Mel today, we went for the scan and Mel got a bounty pack, a bag full of goodies given to new mums to be. Smashing, little pots of nappy rash cream, books, DVD, free samples of this and that and toilet paper. 2 rolls of toilet paper. ????? Poor Mel, she held it up and said "why have they given me THIS?" and without skipping a beat Jordan replied
" oh that's for when you are giving birth and POO yourself!"
I can just imagine how supportive and understanding he will be on the day can you?
So, somehow, even though we have known about the baby for 4 weeks....Mel is only 6 weeks pregnant! Bizarre but we saw that teeny little heart beating and were assured that all is well. We all left feeling a little flat, and as though this might well be the longest 9 months ever but happy that the little blob is in there and ticking away as it should.
we took the boys to the park and Isaac asked for his bike. He has been trying to get the hang of his 2 wheeler but the garden isn't quite long enough for him to get going on it and keep pedalling. At the park he got on it and he just went....he rode and rode and steered and pedalled, what joy on his face and pride on mine.
Seth won't try, he isn't about to attempt anything that he can't be sure he will be perfect at from the very start. I hope that with a quiet time with just he and H we can convince him to try and learn. Eli is raring to go, I think we should just take his stabilisers of and let him fly! I am soaking up every day of this Indian summer, keep those rays coming, I love every one.
Does anyone know anything about Lupus? I have convinced myself that this is what is wrong with me, of course one trip to the doctor would answer the questions, I think I will have to bite the bullet and go in because the longer this skin thing goes on, the more I flare up and my poor body falls apart the more convinced I am that there is so much more to this that we first thought. I now have some lovely cold sores, inside my mouth, on my lip and up my nose. How can H resist me, life is full of these questions!!
So, Nana is off for a scratch and some sleep ( we hope) I shall dream of all the things we can look forward to in California, happy day indeed.

Oh darn it....

The scan showed that Mel is only 6 weeks! She must have had the positive test result the day after she conceived! We did see that teeny tiny heart beating, which was such a relief after not seeing a 10 week baby! So sometime in June we think...might turn out to be the longest pregnancy in history! I am still going to be a Nana though......just have to wait a bit longer and try and work out how she has known for 5 weeks that she is baking that little bean.

Lookie LOOK!

See that little box...that's nana's baby in there, watch him / her grow!! Off to the scan now, hope I can get a picture!

It's all just peachy, well some of it is.

Tomorrow, just after one o'clock, I am going with Mel and Jordan to see my grandbaby. Little dot that it is. I am so excited about this baby, it is completely different than expecting your own baby. It's all just joy. We love joy, can't get enough of it I tell you.

Yesterday was a horrible day, it got worse after I wrote my blog, door slamming and harsh words ( from me) staring ahead and table turning ( from H, not literal table turning, as in turning over tables, that would mean emotions and temper and stuff, I mean " But you were hostile and argumentative and started it", kind of table turning. Which I loathe and always results in me behaving in a hostile and emotional way, slam, throw, mutter under breath and swear.

Today was still a bit of a grumpy one until we just got over it and after a little bit of pretending none of it happened, we had a quick chat and got on with our day. As we do.

I am getting satisfaction from living so frugally, I like spending money, a lot, no matter what I spend it on, I get happy from buying bread and toilet paper ( sad cow) so not spending money is hard for me. I do like however seeing what is possible when you buckle down and go without. I go to the Hotel website and look at the pictures, I read the reviews from previous guests, I look at the pool and the trees, read about the local amenities and mentally stroke the lovely white sheets and crisp pillow cases on the huge beds, I think about 3 weeks of having someone else make my bed and that gets me through another day of not buying 'stuff'.
I have to defend that statement by saying I am not a twit with money, I don't rush out and spend spend spend just for the sake of it, in fact, I am a bit of a whizz at making a penny do a pound's job. I do love to buy a bargain.

I am sad to say that my previous love of a 2nd hand bargain has deserted me, a raging case of scabies will do that to a girl, I am now scared of stuff other ( unknown) people have touched. I am often to be seen using my anti bac foamy stuff, shudder at the thought of used clothes, as for soft furnishings.....EWWWW! How sad is that? My life has changed in many ways since developing the itch from hell. ( which is still very much around, not burning and making me weep but scratching and irritating and very very tiresome.)
I no longer paddle around in bare feet, in fact I cannot walk in this house with bare feet, ever. I am a slippers by the bed gal, they stay on my feet until I am IN bed, kicked off as my feet leave the floor and slipped back on before I touch carpet the next day. If I forget ( which I haven't for a week now) my feet swell, burn and ITCH.
I think I am allergic to the house!
Funny ( ha de ha) thing, Landlady says she is working on re-financing this house and that would mean we could stay ( oh the irony!!) however, this would mean that she would 'need' to rent out the flat. Uh oh..the flat is a hovel, it is dangerous and dark and truly a place of misery. The only type of person that would be willing to live in that place is a person who doesn't give a damn where they live. Exactly the type of person who used to live here. OH NO, not while I am here! There is no way I am living here if she puts someone like that in the flat. This is not a well built, seperate dwelling. It is a garage that has had a square room shoved on, no natural light, no seperate gas or electricity, or water. The entrance is inside OUR home, there is no seperate entrance to the back door. There is nowhere to put a stove, nowhere for a washing machine.







Who can she expect tto live there and actually PAY her? We would be back to that ' oh you pay the gas/ electricity/ water and we'll give a pitance back to not cover it scenario. I think not.
I can imagine a single man, no standards or cares at all, pretty much right here in our home. No way. The garden would be shared and it would mean that whoever would be in an dout and not locking the gate etc. Nope.
The good thing is, she can't possibly put anyone in there for a while. ( or can she? we all know she doesn't worry about whether a place is actually habitable)
I have to make myself switch off and try and just think about our trip and then face it all when we get home. I can't think about the possibility that she might move someone in while we are away.
She has shot herself in the foot which helps us out. There is a new law here that works in favour of tenants. Landlords are legally obligated to invest a deposit within 14 days of receiving it. When we moved from the lovely house to the barn, she should have invested our £850 and within 14 days sent us written evidence of where that money is. She didn't / hasn't. When we moved again this money should have stayed in the invested account. If the landlord ( lady) doesn't invest or doesn't inform the tenant where this money is, the tenant can then take the landlord to court and will then get back the deposit AND 3 times the deposit amount. Also, if the landlord fails to do this with the deposit, they are NOT allowed to issue a notice to quit or eviction notice.
I wrote to our landlady to ask where our money was, asked her to give me written evidence of where she had invested our money. She called last week to tell me not to worry, she had the money and that she hadn't invested it anywhere......"it's OK, I have it in my account, you don't need to worry about it, you know when you move out you will get your deposit back"
BINGO!!
I feel at least that this is on our favour, if this all goes horribly pear shaped I know that we can fall back on this, she has been so silly, to own this many properties and rent them out and NOT abide by the rules and laws is asking for trouble.
I also asked her about the rotten floor and her reply was that she had told us not to use the shower. I told her again that this is nothing to do with the shower, that the floor is actually caving in and it is right in the place where we HAVE to walk to get into the bathroom. Her reply to that was that she would come over some time this week and have a quick look. She's great isn't she?
When asked about the gas boiler and when it had it's last safety check she told me that 'Oh yes, it IS due for a safety check, I'll get on to that."
You know how sick and tired you are of reading this crap? Yeah. It's like that living it too.
Isn't it hysterical that the one house I long to get out of, the house that makes me physically ill...is the one she can't kick us out of? The one that she is even thinking of keeping so we can stay here for years and years? My side ache from all the laughing I tell you what. Not.
I actually love where the house is. If it were mine and I could rip out carpets, knock down rickety old flats, make safe floors and windows, I would love it. As it is.....I hate it. There I said it. I hate this house, I am like a mad woman here. Scared to touch anything without gloves, terrified to walk without shoes, breathing through my teeth because to me, it stinks.
Every item of clothing that hits the floor ( 3 little boys? Imagine how many socks, shirts, trousers, towels) anything that touches the floor gets washed, even if it has just BEEN washed. Eli drops his blanket a gazillion times a day, I am endlessly watching to see where it falls, on my rug...phew safe. On the carpet...wash it. Hard wood floors, that's OK, I bleach that so often I know it's OK.
Can you imagine how exhausting this is? Add to that the fact that I go to bed at 3am when the itching finally winds down a bit, am up again at 7am to take the boys to school. Tired. So tired. And very grumpy, snarl, snap.
Apart from that it's all pretty darn peachy.

Hooray, Bugger!

One of those days where you think HOORAY lovely! Bugger, awful, Hooray! Bugger..... Am in a bugger moment right now, although the boys are asleep and H is out so HOORAY!
We are all getting colds and sore throats, at least they appear to be quick ones, 3 days and back on track. Seth's turn today ( and mine but mummies have to just get on with it so I don't count.)
Took the others to school and parked up ( no mean feat I tell you, HOORAY! Parking space, bugger some inpatient nelly wants me to move, lose parking space have to drive around and then give up and just park on the pavement, HOORAY! no traffic wardens because council or whoever have made so many cuts that they aren't shelling out for the loathed ticket givers and bringers of misery) So return to the car after the morning ritual of peeling Isaac off my being and making a mad dash for the door blowing kisses and proclaiming love all the while.
" Excuse me!! EXCUSE ME!" said harried woman with stroller. " I couldn't get past this morning because of the bins ( not MY bins) and you parking there ( ack, that was my fault) "
" Sorry" ( apology given, albeit not the most sincere or heartfelt)
" I had SIX children with me ( longed to make some wise crack about birth control or spacing children blah blah but BUGGER have 6 kids myself, although at least mine are spaced so that I never have to have all 6 with me on the school run HOORAY!) and we had to walk ON THE ROAD......"
"And I. HAVE.JUST.SAID.SORRY." Honestly, this morning was so not the one to pick on me and expect grovelling or even basic good manners.
The day sort of went like that most of the time. I did sort out all those little bits and bobs that needed doing, travel insurance. Bugger, already paid £228, called about our pre-existing conditions, " Thankyou Mrs paying out hand over fist this had better be the best damn holiday ever, for calling, now all we need is yet more money £9.45 for you ( HOORAY!) and £184 for your husband. ( Bugger) One of those things where you talk yourself into a spin....look, he has all the meds hasn't had a bit of trouble for all these years as long as he takes the meds......yeah but what if......oh shut up it's time for the good bits, holiday and fun not heart attacks and hospitals.....yeah but your luck and all that, you know how it goes........Then we just say " Ha! don't have it, that answers that question,"
so H, you can break any bone you like, get appendicitis, fall off a ladder, have a gastric attack but heart attack or stroke....do it before we go or when we get back please because I am out of funds, poor as the proverbial church mouse....... all of which might well be unnecessary because today he made me want to smack him over the head with a hard something and go away without him. One of those days, bugger.
Went to the park with Jane and the beautiful girls, spent an hour or so letting them run off some crazy and then came home, opened my mouth and somehow encouraged H to be a complete arse. How does that happen? Just when you think all is well and you just say one tiny thing that doesn't mean anything and it starts a great big old hate fest? He's out now, having gone without saying goodbye ( which is good because now I don't feel a bit bad about not trying to collect him, let him walk, maybe the exercise will make him nicer by the time he gets back.) There are days when his lack of understanding that sometimes a chat, about nothing in particular might be nice, if I mention a little tidbit of irrelevant information, its OK to say " you don't say?" or " really? Fancy that" It is not always alright to ask in an irritable tone " what does that mean? How? That's absurd" Therefore making me feel like an idiot for forgetting that small talk is not a part of our lives. Bugger.
Seth is the same, the endless needing to have things explained because that IS SO NOT LITERAL or even SENSIBLE or MEAN ANYTHING!! WHAT? what? huh? And then we have the " uh oh..tears, the crying thing oh *sigh*"RUN. look the other way......sheesh.
Sometimes I long for a normal life..whatever that is!
On a totally new tack, I am watching a programme called China's stolen children. Am put firmly in my place. There are always people worse off than yourself. Have been stopped in my tracks, darn it.....can't even whine on my own blog now because people in china have had their baby boys stolen and are on their knees with grief. Changed channels ( am not shallow) and lo and behold am now watching a programme about a sweet young man dying from Muscular dystrophy. Am getting depressed, can't seem to find anything cheery, like Critical hour, where the people get better, or Cops, where the bad guys get caught and all have hair styles that I can laugh at. So failing that I shall go to the kitchen and get dessert. Hooray!

Beautiful.

Family is everything. More precious than jewels.
My sister lives in Utah and I miss her. She has 2 girls, Izzie and Lily. I am more sad than I allow myself to think about that these girls live so far away but when we get the cousins together. Well, it's beautiful.





And the girlies? Too beautiful....


No auntie Helen, nuh uh, no pictures......











Then they went back to gramma's and it was all quiet. Which also, was beautiful!

The boy.

Eli Henry is divine
Eli-Eli-O.
I'm so happy that he's mine
Eli-Eli-O.