Are you ready for this?

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Yes...this is ALL about me, and mine. Marvellously self indulgent, feel free to tell me how splendid I am, leave comments, nice ones please, I have little kids and teenagers who can do the rude stuff. I am a grandma, to the glorious Joshua, I'm allowed to look frazzled and weary, I earned it. The older I get, the more I see that hanging on and being patient is worth it! They ( whoever 'they' are) are so right when they say you never know what is around the corner, it isn't always an articulated truck! It is vital to make the time for making memories, friends are the greatest treasure, I love mine. I am rich!

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

It's all done.

The boys' room is finished and we love it. I bought some material with 4 x4 vehicles on it and altered their cowboy comforters and I framed one panel of the material, it looks pretty splendid though I say so myself! I have to make some curtains but I am waiting until I find just the right material for them.

The total cost of the whole room, including the 'new' dresser was £96. I so wish I had taken 'before' pictures because the difference is astounding but I was so ashamed of how dreadful it was!
Seth's room is the next one and I am just as daunted by that prospect because his room is filled with creatures and aquariums, vivariums and his treasures. He is a hoarder and hates to give anything away, he likes his things where he likes them, which means it is sort of tidy in a Seth like way but it will take a lot of organising to get it looking great.
I like having plans, hate not having the means to do exactly what I would like, although I will admit that the satisfaction of having spent so little and changing it so much is enormous.


Wednesday, August 25, 2010

I hope they know.

Mothers, as is our wont, tend to do things for their children that will go unnoticed. The younger the child, the less they notice, the marvellous thing about a child getting older is they become more aware.
Each child will differ and of course each child will react or act on their differing awarenesses ( is that a word? It is because I just WROTE IT!)
I don't, as a rule expect any praise or thanks ( other than basic good manners when I have cooked you a nice meal you ungrateful little squirt, say "thankyou" not " eww, I don't like that!" Actually funny story, when Sophie was 5 or 6 she went though a phase of " eww I hate that, that's DISGUSTING!" every time I gave her anything that wasn't egg and chips, I taught her, parrot fashion, that this was very impolite and hurt my feelings and all she needed to say was " Oh, I'm not terribly keen on that but thankyou anyway" or something along those lines.
She stayed overnight with one of my friend's and I collected her just after breakfast the next day. My friend gave me Sophie's overnight bag and told me that she didn't have an abundance of cereal for breakfast, in fact, all she had was bran flakes. She said Sophie ate a spoonful and pushed the plate away saying "Oh that was DELICIOUS, thankyou! I hope I never have to have it again in my whole life." Nearly there.)
I digress.
I do, as a mother, what I do because I love my children and I had them to love them, teach them and do all the housework. Darn it if that last one turned out a vain plan.
I have never had money and that has never been an issue. My big children have never, not even once spoken about their childhood and mentioned not having anything ( apart from Sophie who is convinced she spent her childhood locked in a cupboard being fed bread and water and poked with pointy sticks)
I have learned and am very good at making a £ do a tenner's job and proud I am of that too.
It's Dan's birthday today and his birthday comes at the very end of a marathon slew of birthdays, oh my goodness if we aren't completely birthdayed out by August 25th.
The birthday fest starts with mine on July 24th and then we have july 26th, 29th and August 9th, 10th, 22nd and 25th.
Daniel, from the age of 10 has positively hated his birthday, when he was 10 he said " I want to spend the day being very bored and I don't want anything" and he meant it. For a few years I MADE him have fun dammit, I just couldn't stand the thought of not mentioning it or having cake or SOMETHING to mark the fact he was born. I am so happy he was born and the fact that he was born to me is, quite frankly splendid indeed.
I called him yesterday to ask him what he was doing on his birthday ( ever optimistic!) he said ( of course) "Actually, nothing, I don't have any money at all but I have paid for the stag party ( in Barcelona ) and am ready for that and the wedding. Anyway, no-one knows it's my birthday so I don't have to do anything, perfect. "
I told him I had just out £30 in his account so he could at least go out with his friends or something. He was so touched, his voice cracked and he thanked me, he then sent 3 texts thanking me and then he sent another text this morning that said
" just so you know you are the best mum anyone could ask for!! I cannot tell you how much I respect and admire you. I just thought you should know that:-) Love you xx
That, well that is when you know you have done something so right, so fabulously right.
When your children are small, it can feel such a thankless task, doing all the mundane every day tasks over and over again, usually without anyone actually knowing you are doing them. I do so much of what I do when everyone is asleep, like a housework fairy. There have been so many times when I have transformed a chaotic and child torn home into a gleaming palace while everyone sleeps and I don't ever remember a time when someone has come down in the morning and gasped in admiration and gratitude and actually, that doesn't matter, what does matter is that my big children, the ones that have left home and are privvy to all running a home and being a big person entails, well they DO know, they see and the understand and the glorious and splendid thing is that they let me know they know.
I am shamelessly proud of how Daniel and Jordan have shaped their lives. They work hard and they are kind, gentle and funny men.
Jordan is getting married in 4 weeks, the wedding is to be a pretty darn grand one by my humble standards and he has paid for it all, I think Mel's mum has paid for her dress and the bridesmaids have paid for half the cost of their dresses, everything else Jordan has paid for. He hasn't complained once, he hasn't asked for any help ( other than rides to out of the way places) HE has run his home, cared for his baby and Mel and he has worked and worked.
I want to give him and Mel something that will make them happy. I so wanted to be able to hand them a lump sum of money and help them but I can't. What I decided to do was get a big bottle and save all my change, every day when I have been shopping or out for the day, I take all my change and any £5 notes I have in my purse and I put them in the bottle. Once the money is in there, it doesn't come out. No matter what comes up or what we may think we need, it stays in the bottle. I have listened to Sophie beg to borrow some and promise she will pay it back, I have thought about things I could buy if I used some of it but it stays in there. Only once did I use it and that was when the car died and we bought the new one, it's been a tough job to refill it since then but I am getting there!
I was hoping that there would be enough in there for Jordan and Mel to go away somewhere for a honeymoon, I heard this week that the owner of the restaurant where Jordan works has paid for them to go to Bournemouth for a week, that is SO exciting, this means that the money I have saved will just be spending money, money they don't think they will have.
Even though they think they won't have any spending money they are so excited to be going away on their first family holiday, they refuse to leave Joshua and are excited to take him too.
I have 4 weeks to fill the bottle. There is nearly £300 on there at the moment and it is just about half full.
I have been putting £5 and £10 notes in which means there is more in there but the bottle isn't getting filled very quickly. I think I will have to go to the bank and change notes into £1 coins to fill it better!
I hope they know, when I give them the bottle that although it isn't much and isn't impressive, it is filled with more love than money. Every time I put money in there I do it with as much love as I can possibly give, it is magazines I haven't bought, Indian meals we haven't eaten, petrol we haven't used, day trips to places that charge an entrance fee we haven't been on.
I know, without second guessing that if I gave them £50 in a card they would be thrilled and grateful, I know it.
I just want them to see the bottle ( actually they have seen it, it is right by my sofa next to the fire, a couple of times Mel has seen it and said "Oh there's no way I could have that and not spend it, how can you not use the £5 notes?" so they have seen it and asked once what it was for and I just said "Oh, I don't know yet, Christmas probably" So I am hoping that when they get it ( the day before the wedding I will take it down to them, I don't want them to use it to pay for anything, I want it to be for them to use and enjoy after all their bills are paid)they will know how proud of them I am and how much I love them.
I hope that in the next 4 weeks I can put another £200 in there £500 was my goal when I started and I'd be there if that blasted car hadn't died ( and then the brakes on the new one went, that kicked a hole in the syphoning process again!)
I wish I was as excited about finding an outfit to wear to the wedding, ack that's like a stabby little hurt in my brain when I think about that task. I am psyching myself up to get that out of the way in the next 2 weeks, I hope when I have found the magical outfit that will make me look 5 stone lighter, 10 years younger and not at all self conscious at being on the top table ( with the first one, so help me.) I will start to relax about the actual day and look forward to it more.
I wish I liked social occassions more, to me they are painful trials I jave to endure, this one I will endure gladly, with a smile on my face and I shall take heart pictures and hold every moment close by until I am a very old lady. I hope they know how much I love them, these children of mine. I am learning that the breath holding and the parenting doesn't stop when they are grown, sometimes it is more heart stopping because you can't step in and tell them what to do anymore, it's incredibly hard keeping quiet when you think you know what is best but it is enormously satisfying to watch how they choose what is right and grow so strong and proud.
I don't have money but I am pretty sure I am one of the richest people I know.


Sunday, August 22, 2010

At time and a season.

I think, as far back as I can remember, my dream was to be a mother. I can't ever recall a time when I didn't love thinking about having babies. I thought about babies, how it would feel to have my own babies and what they would look like, what personalities they would have.
Do you see what I kept saying there? Babies. Love me some babies, little flippy floppy, sweet smelling, velvety skinned people who need me and who are so adorable and snuggly.
I loved the night feedings, I really did. Those were my most favourite time, nobody but me and a tiny person. I hold the memories of those times selfishly to my heart because those were the quiet times that I didn't share with anyone but my 6 babies.
In all the years of thinking about my babies I will say that honestly, I never thought about having children. I didn't. I never daydreamed about a 9 year old with an answer for everything or a 15 year old that not only had the answer but was hell bent on making sure I heard it too.
Here I am with 6 children, 5 offspring I should say because 3 of them aren't children anymore they are honest to goodness grown up people, adults that I gave birth to.
Hells teeth.
Can you believe it?
We have had the birthdays, mine, Elijah's, Jordan's, H's, Isaac's, Seth's and on wednesday will be Dan's 25th birthday TWENTY FIVE!
I have a 25 year old son.
We are, quite frankly,all caked and birthdayed out. I am relieved that Daniel doesn't care for birthdays, I'm not sure I can muster anymore YIPPEE HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Let's eat some CAKE! from anywhere at all.
Marvellous thing though, we have a neighbour, who also goes to church with us and every birthday morning we have been awoken by the doorbell and there he is, with a chocolate cake in his hand and a Happy Birthday for whoever is celebrating. How splendid is that? Love thy neighbour is easy when they bring cake.
I feel a bit giddy, almost the way you do when something happens all of a sudden and then it's over and you stand breathlessly trying to work out what on earth that was all about.
I have no babies, not even a toddler, not a pre schooler or a little receptioner. I have big kids and adults. Elijah is still a little boy, he is 7 but only in numbers. He still sucks his thumb, he still loves his raggy old blanket and he still seems blissfully unaware of the world around him.
I find I am a little uneasy about this state of affairs. I'm not sure what I am supposed to be anymore. I'm not saying I don't like the dawning feelings of being a little free to choose what to do with my time, it's quite lovely to be able to say " Night night, bed time, see you in the morning" and not have to physically take them to bed, it's also terribly sad and so I wait for a while and then I go and see them anyway and kiss them, look at them as they sleep. Seth loves to have his face stroked as he settles down to sleep and if, as often happens, he has fallen asleep waiting for me, he is like a little kitten when I stroke his face, he smiles in his sleep and he pushes his face into my hand and every time he does that, I wonder when that will end. When he will stop needing that gentle mother's touch.
I can remember Dan, when he was little loving it when I would tickle his back as he fell asleep and he'd smile and say " I love kinkely backs" I don't remember when I stopped doing that.
I remember Sophie with her line up of night time drinks and her delicious and naughty laugh, she was a hellion at night time, she would take hours and hours to fall asleep and eventually we came to an agreement that as long as she stayed in her room I wouldn't make a fuss if she was awake. I would creep in at 10 or 11 o'clock ready to tuck her in and kiss her sleepy face and there she would be, wide awake with her big blue eyes and a filthy laugh " Ha! I not even tired, I stay in my room though did I?"
I can't remember when I stopped going in to her, I suspect it was around the time I married H and she was such an angry, feisty, spitting ball of rage that when she went to bed I would breathe a sigh of relief that we had made it through another day without bloodshed. How sad that now we are so far away from those days, I can see that if I had gone in to see her and spent some time in there, she might have been less angry and ever ready to fight.
I spend a fair amount of time thinking about all those times that seemed so endless, so relentlessly hard and heartbreaking, those times I felt so alone and so sure that we would never get through them and now, here I am, those times are memories, most of them fuzzy and so distant that sometimes I wonder if they are real, or imagined.
I didn't ever imagine being the mother of big people, I don't think I ever gave being a grandmother a thought because who can imagine that? Heh, I'm sure no-one ever sits and dreams of the day they are a grandma. Do they? Not until the time comes when it is a possibility anyway. What a glorious surprise it is though, to be a Mam-mar. It's impossible to feel anything but complete and utter joy when the front door bursts open and the house is filled by his presence and shouting of "MAM-MAR!! ARE YOU?" when he sees me he says " Oh Mam-mar" as if he has been waiting months to see me again.
I don't feel as though I am old enough for this new life. I look as if I am old enough and am endlessly shocked when I catch a glimpse of myself in a shop window or mirror, I quickly settle myself by reminding me that really, what does it matter? I look at my mum and my sister and they are so fabulously perfect and so loved and then I know that this is how people view me. After a certain age and don't ask me what that magical age is, perhaps it is different with different people, being beautiful has a whole different meaning. It no longer means the putting together of hair and make up, has nothing to do with figure and fashion. It becomes all about who you are and how you make others feel. I am coming into my own. At last.
All my young adult years, all my 30's I just felt so hopelessly left behind in the beauty stakes, always felt so lacking and darn it all, fed up with my lot.
Slowly, I am caring less. I look at many women my age who haven't grasped that beauty is no longer about what size your jeans are and more about how cosy your lap is, I watch them look at themselves in the mirror and drag at jowls, lifting eyebrows and lined lips are pursed while they sigh and suddenly, I feel I am winning.
All the people that matter, see me so differently than I see myself. I am starting ( albeit slowly) to see myself the way they see me. I think I can feel my back straighten even as it aches, and my head is held a little higher.
I didn't ever imagine these times, I think I am glad about that because it's all such a lovely surprise.
I find I am a little sorry for those women who try to turn back the clock, those people who think botox, face lifts, skin peels and surgery are the answers to all their woes. There isn't any joy in staying the same. There is a time and a season for all things, how much we would miss if we fight against the life that is ahead of us and try frantically to stay where we are.
I think I will look forward and try to experience everything that is ahead because I am sure there is plenty to look forward to.


Wednesday, August 11, 2010

You never know what you've had....

Etc etc.
H and I are together always. All day, every day. Day in, day out. Every evening, every morning. I'm not sure I know any other couple that does that, well not one that lives to tell the tale and I'll be honest, lately things have been dire. Not screaming and fighting dire, rather dead and empty dire. Nothing to say dire. Oh my life this is dull dire.
Naturally I see it all from my side of the story. Poor me, when did I ever sign up for this life?
I have become, annoyingly, one of those 'anything for a quiet life' people. I am all out of give a damn, house is a mess? Meh, so what? Clutter over there? Why move it, it'll only pile up again as soon as I turn away. I live with it, I have blasts of moving things and putting things away and I blink and it's all right back in the exact same places I moved it from. That would be because these people, that live in this house are not being untidy they are putting things where they work..for them.
( Isaac and Eli are most definitely untidy, Isaac is no longer that glorious person who put things in the right place every time, as a matter of fact I looked down at his feet this very week to see him wearing odd socks, one black, one white and both of them were trainer socks, those ones that don't show over the top of shoes, the very kind that only 6 months ago would make him shudder because the ankles...they will be COLD! I gawped at his feet and I exclaimed at this wondrous sight I was seeing and then I noticed that one of the socks, the black one was one of Sophie's with glitter around the top. "Well, yes, I am in touch with my sparkly side, is there a problem with that? " ISAAC???? Who is this person? I'm hoping it's a phase, I rather liked that other one.)
Isaac is 9 now, he had his birthday only yesterday. Seth has been quite delightful as a 9 year old, I hope I shall be able to say the same thing about Isaac because 8 has been bloody awful.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, back to me.
So I, of course, I see how dull my life is and I think about how taken for granted I am and when I was at my mum's house last week I blubbered all about how terrible my world is and then I said " When I used to have therapy, I used to go and say all this stuff and always, by the time my hour was up, I always realised that actually, it was me that was screwed up. Is this me, this time?" and she answered the way she always does and said " What do you think?"
H has gone away today, he has gone camping. He is, with 2 other men in charge of the youth organisation at church, the boys from 12-18. Every tuesday he goes and does whatever they do, different things from service projects to hikes, sporty things to checking out all the chip shops in the town. On Sundays he teaches. Once a year they have a camp for a few days, in the wilds of Cornwall or somewhere and this year, he went too. The other 2 men work and couldn't get time off so H went. Last night, although he never said a word he looked as though he had lost the will to live. He said he was all packed and I asked him if he was taking the inflatable bed we have, oh it's such a great bed, blows up to the size of an actual double bed, 3ft off the ground and as comfy as can be, he said he would fine with that pathetic flat ground sheety thing and I disagreed. He is 51 years old has arthritis in his neck and I pretty much thought 3 nights on a damp field would finish him off. I inflated the bed and his face lit up and he agreed that if he can sleep comfortably at night he would be able to deal with whatever the days throw at him.
He is such a good man, he never, ever complains about what life throws at him. If he agrees to do something, he does it, without complaint and as well as he is able to do it.
We drove down to Cornwall today and he was ready, he got there and put his tent up, the bed filled the tent and left just enough room for his bags and food tucked down the side.
He was cheerful and ready to join in and do whatever a big group of boys do when they camp for several days.
We came home and strangely the house feels different. I was astounded to see Sophie had cleaned while we were out...good gracious that doesn't ever happen, what a treat. I also decided that while H is away I will tackle the nightmare that is Eli and Isaac's room. I can't adequately describe just how awful this room is, they have written, drawn, scraped every wall. They have etched their names in furniture, have hammered 4" nails into the walls in an effort to hand tiny little pictures of cars. They have stuck tape of the stickiest and most impossible to remove kind ( double sided carpet tape I believe!) on the walls, they have written their names " THIS IS ISAAC'S PROPERTY" " ELIJAH'S STOOL" etc etc on pretty much everything.
H doesn't like to throw anything away and although he is anal about some things, like socks and cups and is very clear in that we must not have too many! NO! TOO MANY THROW THEM AWAY!! HE has no objection at all to buying the most bizarre and ugly, also HUGE items at car boot sales and for some reason, almost every huge, ugly, useless item makes it's way into this bedroom.
I have 3 days to clear this room and day one has seen an enormous book case demolished and in the car ready for the tip tomorrow along with 3 black sacks of toys and clothes, 2 bedside cupboards and a very old, very ugly metal locker. OH SWEET JOY! It already looks great in there, all posters have gone, all nails removed, I am giddy with anticipation on the things we can achieve tomorrow.
I don't feel I am being sneaky, I know H cannot deal with the chaos that this kind of work entails. I am 100% sure that when we get home with him on saturday, he will be thrilled with the new room and will think it is all splendid, I also know that I would never be able to do it if he is here because he would be worried about it all, about why we should change that or throw that way and well aren't those beds perfectly good? So I am using these next 3 days to do what I know will work and will look wonderful and at last those 2 little gits have learned that they must not write on or scratch or hammer nails into anything anymore. I am confident that they will take better care of their new room and I might then be able to walk into it and not want to tear out my hair and weep with frustration.
I am a little overwhelmed with how much work there is to do but Sophie and Jordan have some time off work and have said they will help..wish me luck. I also have to try and find new beds ( new to us anyway) a new chest of drawers and a new bookcase..yikes.
I think I can, I think I can.
I love a challenge and I really love having that excitement of making something horrible look good.

Without H here I have some time to think about how lovely he is. I am wondering if he feels this way when I go away. I have been away a few times and he has been away two or three times but only for one night at a time. It feels strange to know he is away until Saturday, I want him to have fun and sleep well, to enjoy something different and remember that he doesn't need to always be here doing the same things all the time.
He loves the allotment and he is having a blast with the boys collecting creatures. They went on a night hunt for frogs on monday night. What a lovely time these little boys have with him. They went off into the night ( at 8.30pm PAST BEDTIME!! ) with wellies, fishing nets, flashlights and tubs and buckets. At 10pm I called them and asked if they needed a lift home. H said they were about done, very wet and would be in the car park at the lake/ park. I set off, went Via MacD's for some hot fries to warm them and drove to the car park. Oh it was so dark, pitch dark and I am so afraid of being out when it is dark, I made sure my doors were locked and noticed that there was another car in the car park, right over at the end I where I needed to be. I drove over and parked behind them ( not immediately behind but behind none the less) I noticed then that they moved, I thought they were leaving and then...hmmmmm they were behind ME! Then they started flashing their headlights. On off, On off. Uh oh, I thought, I don't like this, so I felt in my bag for my phone, couldn't feel it so I put my light on, whoops wrong switch, those are the headlights... on, off, where's that pesky interior light? Agh, stupid flashers....on off ...there it is, interior light on, find phone, light off, hit the stick with the headlights button on ...on whoops OFF! Turn the lights OFF.
Mr creepy in the car behind me then began a frantic morse code of flashing and more flashing.
I was convinced that I was smack bang in the middle of a drugs running deal that wasn't. I called H and told him to hurry up before I ended up with a boot load of crack or something, I was so happy when those little water filled wellybooted boys came running around the corner and they were so happy to see me, a warm car and some lovely hot fries.
Can you imagine my horror when I got home and told Sophie about those drug pushers at the park and she raised her eyebrows and said, quite simply "Drugs? Er, no."
That's all I am going to say about that except "ARGH!!!!!" What is this world coming to? Oh my good gracious there are some depraved people out there and I am so thrilled that a) that car drove behind my car so I couldn't see whatever was happening in there and b) I am so naive I hadn't clue what all that 'flashing' was about. I gave my brain a good rinse out with a chapter of glorious Dawn French and her blastingly funny book ' Dear Fatty' and put the whole shocking experience behind me.
What a lovely dad H is, what memories these little boys will have of the times they spend with him, every kind of splendid grimy, dirty, stinky kind of activity that they just adore doing.
I watched a show today about 2 families, one with 4 girls and one with 4 boys and the parents swapped children for a weekend. I watched the life the family of girls had and I knew then that the good Lord knew what he was doing when he gave me 5 sons and only one girl. I just don't get that whole ballet, dance class, nail varnish, hair doing thing. I have never enjoyed it and am splendidly surprised and thrilled that Sophie, somehow has managed to be suitably girly and fru fru-ey without my ever taking her to dance classes or spending hours letting her paint my nails or play with my hair.
I need these few days to appreciate the good that H is, the things that he does quietly without telling me. I need them to do some of the things that I love to do and feel I am getting something done, the way I like it done. I want to show H what I can do and how lovely this house can be. I need to like where I live again because I haven't felt that for such a long time.
I like missing H and remembering what I love about him and I am pretty sure he is enjoying missing me.


Saturday, August 07, 2010

Beauty, my dears....

It is a well known fact that I am not greatly enamoured of myself. physically that is. I never have been, I can remember being 18 and thinking that I probably ought to stay at home with my head bowed in shame because really, who needed see me? I look now, at pictures of me then and good heavens, if I wasn't quite beautiful. I had cheek bones to die for, splendid bosoms and a waist. An actual, honest to goodness waist.
I think back and recall 'friends' telling me they felt sorry for me because Julie and Jane ( my sisters) were so PRETTY and they were such FUN and look how POPULAR they were and then, 'well, then there's you' I'm not kidding, they said that, often and hear something often enough ( or once if you have no confidence whatsover) and you believe it, you clutch those things to your teenaged heart and you hug them close, not always remembering they are there until you almost forget and dare to do something a little brave and daring and , naturally every word comes back to make sure you scuttle back to your hidey hole.
I think back to when the first one left and actually, thanks to THE most beautiful man I have ever seen decided he liked ME....actual me, the one that the first one kept telling was stupid and ugly and even inside was so ruined that there wasn't a hope. THAT me. He travelled long distances to see me and every time I saw him my stomach would flip at his total hotness and physical perfection and my heart would cry because I had no idea who he was or why I was even dating someone when I was supposed to me married and enjoying my third baby. Because of him, ( and he was a '111' you know a 3rd generation 4 named beauty with impeccable manners) I found that I felt quite unugly, empowered even and IN YOUR FACE FIRST ONE! I walked tall and I smiled a lot and I knew that I might not be alone for ever. I knew that Percival Angus Quentin Smythe the 3rd ( so not his name or anything like it apart from 'the 3rd' bit ) was not going to be 'the one' and I was a little sad about that because he really, honestly and truly was spectacular in every way, so much so that my sister, the oldest one who was more beautiful than me and who did actually steal several boyfriends away from me, right from under my nose BECAUSE SHE COULD, burst into tears when she saw him and how he treated me as she was so sure she would never EVER meet anyone THAT gorgeous who would look at HER that way (Ha! Na na na na na!) HE started to talk about 'next year' when we would go on holiday with the children and WHOA...hold on there buddy.....and I ended it there and then because I was still so sad about the first one leaving and knew I needed time to be me and heal a bit. 10 years was excessive I'll give you that but that's how the cookie crumbled and all's well that ends the way it ends.
So, briefly I felt confident and not ugly until the first one did his work and did it better than he ever did any other kind of work and I retreated into my shell and behind baggy shirts. I look of pictures of me THEN and I think "What in the name of all that is wasteful and pitiful was I thinking to believe I was fat and ugly?" and so it goes on and I get older and I still feel ugly and flinch when anyone I haven't seen for a while sees me and comes to hug me and I KNOW I am making them feel as though I am flinching away from them and I get so angry with myself because I love these people, my inside longs to fling my arms around them and squeeze them til they BEG for release but my head murmurs all those old meanesses and whispered asides " You smell, why would I want you near me" ( and today I did hug a friend, very quickly and sort of awkwardly and she said " Oh you smell BEAUTIFUL!" up your bum first one!) " Oh dear, your toothpaste isn't making it, is it?" ( enter an obsession with bad breath, you can ask me for a mint anytime, anywhere and I will have one, or gum. This house is never without at least 8 bottles of listerine, dental floss, many pump dispensers of toothpaste. I have my own dental kit used to remove any and all traces of plaque on those stubborn back teeth, even with all this, if you come too close I will back away, sometimes I will not look at you or speak to you because I don't want to make you flinch with my sure to be rancid breath. Hello, welcome inside my head....pardon? Why? why aren't you staying here? I know, I'd leave too if I could)
I am reading 'Dear Fatty' By Dawn French and it is changing my everything. Dawn is a big, stunningly beautiful woman who makes me laugh every single time I see her in anything on TV, she is big and appears not to give a hoot, she laughs at herself and allows the world to laugh with her. She is so confident and I admire her so much, reading her book I am astounded to learn that she says she does everything by pretending, she pretends to be confident and then finds that she is, she goes to various functions and pretends to be the life and soul of the party and she is. She explains how, being a child of a military man she had to start new schools and be the new girl all the time and how she used her funny to get liked.
I felt so impressed that she 'pretends
' and I wondered how easy that would be, I decided that I would try to today at a wedding. Oh social occasions how I dread you.
I bought a new shirt and ear rings and make up to wear, I was getting ready and giving myself a pep talk about how nobody hates me, in fact so many people really like me, nay love me and bloody hell just BREATHE woman, it's not even your wedding no-one will even be looking at you SHUT UP HEAD!
So, I put my make up on, my new make up and oooh, look, quite nice eyes, that's good.
Isaac "what has happened to you? Your eyes look REALLY weird" *sigh*
I went into Sophie's room and asked her to straighten my hair ( which is usually pretty easy, however when I am going out, to a SOCIAL occasion where I know I will have to talk to people and see people and do that smiling and "How lovely to see you, you look well!" thing, it's a losing battle. No matter how hard I work at convincing myself that this is FINE, get on with it, you are perfectly happy about this....even if my head almost believes the hype, my body isn't having any of it. I sweat and shake and as fast as I straighten my hair, I sweat, it curls. This morning I was sitting on Sophie's floor and as she straightened my hair I sat holding a fan RIGHT UP TO MY FACE, in a futile effort to stop the sweating head thing happening.
I sat on the floor and I heard the front door open and the boy come in "MAM-MAR???? MAM-MAR! Are you? " I replied with my "WOOOH HOOO! " and Sophie's door flew open and there he was. In a suit, my grandson who is 2.
He crouched down next to me and he looked at me, looked again and he said " OH! MAM-MAR ( he always shouts my name, always) OH..izzza fufffffy ssssstieffyder ( which is his own language,) we, obviously, always know what he thinks he is saying and in this case, because he said it in exactly the right tone and as he said it he stroked my hair and his little head was cocked on one side, he was clearly saying " Oh GRANDMA! You look absolutely beautiful!" And, guess what, I totally believed him.

Right through the wedding he was near me and he Mam-Mar'd all day, he lay on the floor under the pew and called me,

Even when, as we stood for Gemma and Nick to go and sign the wedding certificate etc, he shoved Jordan's leg and yelled " JORD! Move! Tum on! Et's DOE! Tum on! DOE OUT!" and Jordan took him out, even when he wasn't in the church we could all hear him shouting "MAM-MAR! Are you?? MAM-MARRRRRR!"

He sat with me most of the time we were eating

( Eventually I suggested getting his pushchair, strapping him in it and giving him a phone, iPod, sweets, food of any kind ANYTHING to keep him in one place so that Jordan and Mel could relax for a moment. My mum did say ( bless her heart she doesn't see too much of him) "what harm can he do, the very worst thing would be if he ate all those cupcakes" and so Jordan ( because he is a good boy and he loves and admires HIS grandma) listened to her and let his son run around for a bit, or 3 1/2 minutes,which is how long it took him to espy those cupcakes and make a mad grab for them, so pushchair it was then!
At one stage, after about 2 hours of constant "Mam-Mar" followed by some actual speaking and much baby gabbling and hand expressions I laughed and said to my mum " So, do you think he loves his grandma?" It is so undeniable, even I can't deny his adoration and really, is there anything more honest than a small child? They don't know and have have no clue or care what the world says is beautiful, they know what they know and this boy thinks the sun shines and sets on me.
And,it must be said, the feeling is entirely mutual.



Friday, August 06, 2010

On a roll.

Dear Blog, I hope I didn't hurt your feeling when I said I had no-one to turn to, I know you are here and waiting for me to share my every feeling, I appreciate that but sometimes, a girl needs a face opposite her to share the emotions and if cake is involved in some way, even better.
Last evening, at 7pm, I left the house, without so much as a bye or leave, I got in my car that had brakes that don't work very well and I drove away. Such abandon! Such a break from routine and I had a devil may care attitude because ..well, I didn't care.
H was polite yesterday and Sophie continued to ignore me. I needed to just be somewhere I could talk and so I went to my mum's house.
I usually try not to burden my mum because what can she do and I know, as a mother, there is little worse than feeling helpless when your child is sad, the thing is, she was married to my dad and H is so like my dad it is spooky and I knew she would get the whole ' I so want to smash him in the inexpressive face' thing, I can remember my mum leaving my dad once, when I was about 7 or 8, with a suitcase and she wasn't coming back because SHE COULDN'T STAND IT! I remember feeling horrified for a moment and then feeling sure that she would be back because she loved us and anyway, where would she go, with her suitcase and all? She went to the co-op and bought us all a packet of Mint Toffoes, which was a treat because it wasn't anyone's birthday and it was a tuesday. She opened the suitcase and it was completely empty apart from the 3 packs of mint toffoes. I knew then that she wouldn't ever leave us and a part of me sort of hoped that she would SAY she was leaving again so we would get sweets on a tuesday without it being anyone's birthday.
So I went and as I drove, I saw Mel and Joshua going for a walk, Joshua was pushing his toy pram and Mel had the buggy for when he got tired. I stopped the car and Josh didn't immediately notice it was my car. When he did his face lit up and he does the most splendid gasp thing, as if I am the one person he has been waiting to see and then "MAM-MAR!" Oh that one word from that one little voice is like balm to an aching soul.
I left and went to mums and I cried 'til I laughed and then I laughed til I cried and I felt better.
Way back when, in the distant past, when I flew to L.A to meet H, I remember thinking how bizarre it was to watch his family. H, his dad and his brother, Mark. 3 divorced men, living in a house together and the most extraordinary thing was that they didn't speak to each other. At all.
It was by far the most fascinating thing I had ever seen, they all seemed to know what their role was and they did it without anyone ever saying anything or commenting. Grandpa shopped, H cooked, Mark stayed in his room until the food was bought and cooked and then he went back in there when it was eaten. Grandpa went out at 5.30am, came home around 2-3pm, H went out about 9, came home at 5-6, Mark, who cares?
The laundry got done and no-one seemed to need the washing machine when someone else was using it. No-one ever seemed to need anything and if they did....there it was, who knew?
Every now and then, grandpa would walk pat H and pat him on the back. H would say "hey" and there you go, they love each other.
H would get paid and he would sometimes buy grandpa a new lawn mower but he wouldn't actually say anything or give it to him, it would just be in the garage, waiting for when Grandpa came home. Grandpa would see it and then he would walk in and say "hey, thanks" and H would smile, it was enough.
When I was in the house, with just one of them..they would talk, and they would talk and talk. All 3 of them would tell me things and ask me things, they would share secrets and feelings and then, when someone else came back, nothing.
Grandpa and Mark and a friend, Lamont would all ask me "how did you do what you did? How on earth? Look, H doesn't talk, at all. He laughs when he watches The S.impsons, that's it. He doesn't talk to anyone, about anything and suddenly, here he is laughing and talking and he does what you ask him to you have ANY idea how huge that is? H doesn't do what people ask him to do, he does what he needs to do and what he wants to do but if anyone asks him ...he won't do it.
I had learned that very quickly and I get that because I am exactly the same. I can be about to do something and then someone will say " will you do..." and I can't do it, if I do it will be grumpily and full of resentment because darned if anyone is going to order ME around. So I have never asked H to do something, I just say something like " I was thinking about XYZ, my goodness if you couldn't do a better job at that, I can just see how great that would be if YOU did it" and it will be done.
By the time I left L.A Grandpa was a chatty, hugging, exclaiming softy. He bought me flowers and candy from Sees on Valentine's day. He calls here once or twice a week and H and he talk for hours.
Now H and I are living this no-one says anything life.
Can you believe that there hasn't actually been a single conversation between us about homeschooling. I can't even tell you how it all came about, how suddenly we decided that's what we are doing.
We buy bottled water because H has this thing about tap water, he has always been that way and in L.A we had a big cooler and he would go and fill those big bottles up every few weeks, sometimes, when he was at work, Grandpa would fill those buggers up from the kitchen sink and let H think he had picked up some new bottles! So suddenly, without him ever actually saying " we should use bottled water " we do and he uses it to cook rice and make squash for the boys and all these things have been slowly bubbling away under the surface, grumbling and rumbling and festering in a teeth gritting fist clenching way.
My poor mum got it all last night, punctuated with sobs and snorts, blasts and guffaws and plenty of glorious swear words. My mum doesn't swear, I heard her say "BLOODY BLOODY BLOODY CAR" once, when we went to collect an old car my Uncle was giving her and it was a manual, not automatic and she can't drive and change gears, she really can't and so she stalled that old car every 200 ft. And she punched the steering wheel and swore at that BLOODY CAR 3 times. I have never laughed so hard in my life. It was the best thing I ever heard. She also said TITS once, because she was telling us about breasts and we were snickering and biting our lips and teasing her for saying such a frumpy word like BREASTS so she said " well what SHOULD I call them? TITS?" Hilarious!! So, she doesn't swear and no-one swears around her, except me and I do swear. Usually only when I am being funny and everyone tells me it never sounds like I am swearing. This last few weeks I have been F*ing and Blinding and bollocksing Bastarding with every sentence. It has kept me going I suppose in my quest not to punch someone.
I left mum's house after dominating the conversation and oxygen for a couple of hours and I told her and Leah that ' I wasn't bloody well going to stand for it another moment, I was damn well going to give as good as I get and see if I don't. If I don't want to do something, I sodding well won't and see how THAT goes down!
Today, or was it last night? I spoke to H and I told him that I was unhappy with this whole not speaking thing, I told him that I had spoken with mum and told HER I was unhappy with it and I asked him this had come about, how, I asked him did we even decide the whole home school thing without ever actually discussing it? How and when did we decide that we would spend £6 a week on bottled water when we have perfectly good, clean nice tasting tap water? I have drunk this water my whole life, I have more teeth, in better condition that he does, I am perfectly well, I have not been poisoned, I am no longer willing, or able to pay for bottled water.
I actually believe I am as responsible as H for this situation because I go along with it all for an easy life. I also do everything to do with money, I don't tell him what I am paying, what I am struggling to pay, how much anything costs because I control the money, he has never been good with money and I learned early on that if H handles the money, trouble follows. So, I deal with the money and I don't tell him how I am doing. So of course, he gets an idea and why not? why don't we buy bottled water? And I do it and I tut and sigh and I grumble to myself and then, when something happens I EXPLODE! Yeah, how'd you like THEM APPLES? HUH???
So, I sat and I spoke to him and I actually said " I look at you at church and I watch how great they all think you are and I watch you talk and laugh and then, people will ask me " Hey is H going to camp?" and I am sick of looking like an idiot, so now, well now I tell them " I don't know, he doesn't talk to me, I expect I will find out when he needs something and sends me an email or text" and his face was a picture, he looked shocked and a little horrified because I suspect, to him, we have it pretty darn good, look how well this works, why we just flow and it works and we don't even have to do that talking thing....would you just look at how great this is? To discover that this is not good and I don't think it is fabulous at all. I talked with him about how hard it is to go along with all his great ideas and only but butter, high juice, no additive squash for the boys, bottled water and I ran though some price and how although the money hasn't gone up, all the prices have and something has to give.
I told him that the bottled water was going, I was going to buy a couple of filter jugs and that was all, today I did just that and it is fine, he is happy and so am I.
I walked into Sophie's room this morning and asked her what time she would finish work, she didn't answer me and so I walked over to her and I gave her the biggest, smackiest kiss on her cheek and I didn't stop kissing her until I felt her stiff back relax, then I walked out.
She left for work and said "bye then"
When she came home, I told her that I wanted her to come down town with me, the car was at the garage ( the brake cylinder had seized and the brake shoes had ground down..oooh funny thing, when we went to collect the car the mechanic brought the old brake shoes out and showed me and then he said " Smell that!" and shoved the old brake shoe under my nose...the thing that made me laugh most was the fact that I DID smell that rotten old thing! Also, I was happy to learn that the brake shoes were actually new ones and only one had worn down when the cylinder seized up, so I wasn't sold a Lemon of a car by the garage)
She came down to the town with me and we went for a cool drink together, then we saw a sale and found her some leggings, 2 shirts and a lovely long jacket all for £12. I know that the fight at Jordan's had a lot to do with her feeling so miserable about gaining weight and she is incapable of just saying that, she felt bad and she did her thing of fighting it out because a) she hasn't had her meds and b) she hasn't got a clue how to do it differently.
She told me that she felt so much better now that things are better with me, she is still so young emotionally, I know I am making excuses, or am I giving reasons? Who knows, I do know that even though she is 21, I still have to teach her often.
She was calmer and I had explained to her a little how Jordan is feeling. He is 23, he has a home and a baby and he is paying for this whole wedding himself. I took him and Mel to see the woman who has the dresses, Mel's dress, the 3 bridesmaid dresses and Jordan, Dan and Joshua's suits. He thought he was paying the last installment and as he paid her she said " that's great so that's just £350 to pay then" When he got back in the car his eyes were filling up and he said " I am so tired of thinking I am done and then something else comes along" I told Sophie that I had said to him that when she was paid I was going to tell her to pay some of what she owes on her dress, so he was expecting her to do that, instead, she had started yelling and he had yelled back. I explained that just as she does what she does and we all try to understand why she does them, she has to accept that other people have issues to and sometimes they are going to react badly, if she expects us to excuse her she has to expect and accept that other people will sometimes behave badly too. I also reminded her that she was in HIS home and his SON was there and that was what made it inexcusable.
We were doing well and she was calm, I knew she was thinking it through and I was very hopeful that this was going to be resolved. Then her friend called and I could tell from the one sided conversation that this girl was stirring it all up, I could see Sophie tensing up and she started to yell in the phone that they can go to F*ing hell then, see if SHE cares, see if she WANTS to still be a F*ing bridesmaid then....Oh for the love of buttonholes and confetti, I lost it. I yelled loudly " That's IT! She is NOT a friend, if she shows her face at this house I swear I am going to slap it! A good friend would be trying to smooth this all over and make it better NOT run between you and Mel tittle tattling and making it worse, put that bloody phone down RIGHT NOW!"
She did hang up and said that her friend had been speaking to Mel and Mel had found someone else to be bridesmaid etc etc and I told her that yesterday, when I saw Mel out with Josh she had looked at me and said " I don't even know what I did...why isn't she even speaking to me?" and of course then Sophie was all " I AM speaking to Mel and blah blah..."
Oh how high schooly drama-ish we all are. I told her to pick up the blasted phone and call Mel, this is family, she will never forgive herself if she cuts her nose off to spite her face. It is, I am happy to say, sorted. She is still a bit blustery about how she is mad at Jordan but I am hoping that is all bravado and will blow over as soon as she thinks everyone has forgotten about it all.
My car is mended and was £205, which is a lot but not as much as I worried it would be. The best news is that I have a super duper recovery plan with the A.A and when I call them out, if repairs are needed I have to pay £25 and they pay the rest on a lot of repairs, brake shoes are not covered but the cylinder is, so I have to send the receipt to them and they will refund me the cost of the cylinder which was £105..hoorah. Even better was Sophie and her magnificent bosoms came with me to collect the car, now I am not saying she flaunted them but they were there in all their splendidness and she stood at the counter and I had handed her the money while I put my purse away, so she stood there and said " Excuse me, can I keep half and you have half of this money because I could really have a lovely day with £102.50...and how much is THAT?" and she pointed at this stuff we had been reading about in our boredom while waiting.
" you want some of that too? It's great stuff!"
I said that we wouldn't today because I just had enough to pay for the brakes, he typed up the bill and gave us a can of that magic stuff for free, charged me £195 for it all. Well done Sophie and your magnificent bosoms.
I am excited to see if the car runs better like the magic tin says it will.
So, we have a car, can go to Gemma's wedding tomorrow and I didn't have to sell an offspring to pay for it all. Sophie is talking to me, H is talking to me and that, dear Bloggies, is enough for me.
Unless you won the lottery this evening and would like to buy me house that is.

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Thursday, August 05, 2010


I hi my post yesterday because it was far too raw, angry and honest. I'm not used to being that honest with myself and it made me feel more afraid and lonely than I already did.
I wish I could say I slept and woke feeling better but I didn't sleep much and I felt just as sad when I woke up. I can't look at H and I don't want to see or speak to Sophie.
In a nut shell, Sophie went to Jordan's house, started a fight, he told her to leave and when she wouldn't he threw her out, physically picked her up and threw her spitting, kicking, fighting, swearing self out onto the street. She called the police and told them he beat the shit out of her. She didn't have a mark on her of course but it didn't stop her ranting and raving and blaming everyone for her despicable behaviour.
Naturally, today I am the one in everyone's bad books, except Jordan of course, Jordan has always been and continues to be my easiest and most affable child. He has called me and texted me and apologised to me for losing his temper, he has apologised to Mel and their baby because they were there to witness the whole thing and unless you have ever actually witnessed one of Sophie's rages you can't possibly begin to imagine how terrifying and horrifying it all is.
I am always left feeling so empty, so completely dejected and miserable because despite everything I have been the one person to fight her corner, the one and only person who treats her fairly and to her that means I always take the other person's side and I obviously hate her. I can't explain well enough or eloquently how it feels to have your child scream FUCK OFF BITCH in your face, over and over again. You think it would dull with frequency but it doesn't. Every single time it feels like a blunt knife to the gut.
H does not help me. At all, some of it I imagine might be the aspergers making it difficult for him to deal with emotion but it isn't a good enough reason to walk away from me when I am crying so hard I am heaving. When he sees me having to deal with this and then he, along with everyone else, looks at me as if somehow I caused this and then he ignores me.
To be angry because I let the police into our home is selfish and thoughtless and today, I'll be honest I don't like him at all. Last night I hated him so fiercely if he hadn't left the room I might well have harmed him. I suppose that means I must have feeling for him. I never hated the first one, isn't that strange? He was a total twat and treated me like crap and I never hated him...probably because I never really loved him.
I don't know what to do, I know I should do something because otherwise, this will all happen again and I will cry and gather some more resentment and rage that I will shove down inside me and they will wake up and continue doing what they do without a care in the world.
I wish I could leave.
There is nowhere to go.
I know I am needed. They don't know that. They all think I am the cause of their every woe. I know that I am the one thing stopping them all heading for hell in a hand basket.
This is a self pitying statement and I understand that but it is true that I do not have a single person to turn to when I need it. No-one I can walk out of my house and go to see, that would make me laugh at how dramatic I am and how horrible my family can be. So I sit here til 3am and I pray that I will make it through another day without making the news headlines.
I keep breathing and try to be pleased about it and somehow another day goes by and I pat myself on the back because, dear God, if that isn't a huge achievement.
If I'm honest I'm not too happy with God either at the moment because when it all comes down to it, I feel He is pushing His luck with me. It comes to something when you force yourself to look at your blessings and they are all of the ilk of " Hooray all these kids with special needs, doesn't the Lord trust ME? I am SO BLESSED" and " I have a roof over my head and I know we have rats and black mould but aren't we LUCKY we don't live in a tin hut in India?"
Scraping the barrel there I admit but you know how it goes when you afford yourself the luxury of wallowing in self pity, it becomes one of those laughing games where you make it sound so awful you have to shriek in that hysterical 'don't come to close while I laugh like this because I AM A COILED SPRING and am likely to snap at any given moment and HURT YOU' way.
What? Is it just me that does that? Hey ho, it's kept me out of a padded cell this long, if it works keep with it I always say.
Good old blog, always here when I need it, I shall make it my best friend and hope it remembers my birthday next year.


Sunday, August 01, 2010

Hello? HELLO? Is this thing turned on?

I know, I am rubbishy rubbish at writing this thing now. I wish I cared more, I sort of care in a " my blog used to be so cool and people read it and I loved it, wonder what happened?" kind of way but I don't know, is it too last year to write a blog? Is my life so tedious it isn't worth recording anymore? Who knows, I come here, write for an hour, delete it and toodle off to Face Book where I can vent my woes or joys in a mere sentence.
Lazy, yet satisfying.
I think I still have things worth saying, I just find it more difficult to write them, I type and find myself drifting off to oblivion and let's face it, if I'm boring myself there's a pretty good chance anyone reading is going to lose the will to live and just click the X in the right hand top corner.
I ought not to care whether anyone else likes what I write but if I felt that way I would write in a journal and keep it under my bed. I used to like the comments and the google evidence that people were reading all about ME.
Everything I could write about has been written about before, we are living in a repeat of old happenings I'm afraid, most of it grumblingly dull and ' shut up and get over it for the love of interesting things to read!'-ish.
Actually, I am 48 now, that's newsworthy in itself because overnight I have become an old and grumpy person with opinions I find increasingly difficult to keep to myself. I wonder if I dare even voice them on here because some people might still read it and you can bet your life if anyone does still read this it will be those very people I complain about, sod's law that is!
My birthday was a blast. So much so that next year I am going away, on my own and will not be telling anyone in my ungrateful and selfish family where I am, that way, when I don't get so much as a sniff of an oily rag I can tell myself that it's because no-one knows where I am, not because they are all so bloody selfish and mean that they just don't care enough to spend time or money on me. Miserable buggers.
Nothing, well I say nothing, Sophie gave me a card, one she bought last year and forgot to give me and found under her bed, so moving to feel all the love that poured out of that, she shoved it on the mantle 3 days before my birthday for some bizarre reason, the sight of it there didn't nudge anyone else's conscience into following suit.
I was quite touched that Eli and Seth gave me a present each. All 3 boys love cars, it is the latest thing, 1:18 scale cars, supercars and fast cars and we spend many a happy moment looking at the online, we find them at carboot sales and I love this phase. When we look online I always ooh and ahhhhh over the classic cars, I love them. They laugh at me and say I am the female version of J.ames M.ay from T.op G.ear, apparantly he is an old classic car chap. So, on my birthday I came downstairs to find 2 of their cars, classic ones wrapped with my name on. Eli somehow skipped the paper and wrapped his car in tape, just tape...which was lovely because at least I got to feel as if I was spending hours unwrapping my birthday gifts, even if I had paid for them myself and knew what they were.
H, as he does, or doesn't, had nothing for me and half way through the morning asked if I wanted to go out and eat, I couldn't be bothered to pretend I was pleased to be honest, I told him I would rather order an Indian take away and he paid for it. That was that. Happy birthday me.
Jordan came round after work and put some cards through the door, he works til after 11 so I didn't hear him come. Dan called.
Funny that my birthday is the first out of everyones, the petty part of me feels like doing the same for all of them but I can't, I cannot let anyone's day pass with the slightest chance that they will feel so totally unimportant and uncared for, I would feel shame if I thought I had caused anyone to feel that way.
A few days after my birthday, after I had taken the boys to the cinema, we had been to the park and at 8.30 I told them it was time for bed, they cried and complained and all 3 of them were saying things like " you are so mean, you never do anything good for us, it's the summer holidays and we don't get to have any fun or stay up late, you are rubbish and mean" I lost it, totally lost it, that stinging hurt on my birthday was still very sharp and so I let them have it. I asked them if they had noticed who does ALL the birthday treats in this house, (for Eli's birthday we had a picnic and birthday cake with friends and the next day the cinema treat) they said that they knew it was me, then I asked them what had happened on my birthday and who had done anything special for me? I then told them that the day after my birthday I had had a card from my mum and she had out £10 in it and THAT money was what I used to buy their sweets and pop at the cinema and to hear them all saying how mean I was and how I never do anything for them made me very sad.
Sometimes I think that we, as mothers are too quick to believe we don't matter and too slow to remind people that we do.
I matter.
There, got that off my chest.
Stupid car is broken, I wonder how many times I have written that on this blog? I suppose it's what happens when you buy old cars. There is no way around it, we just have to get on with it and hope that we can find the money for the endless repairs. I have no idea what is wrong, if I go faster than 40-50 mph it judders and when I stop, the car stinks of burning rubber. I don't have the money to take it to the garage until next week, so we are staying close to home and using it as little as possible until then.
Same ole same ole.
Here's where I usually delete and scuttle back to see what people with lives have to say on FB....
poor old blog.

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