Are you ready for this?

Within these walls.

2012-01-07T13:47:00.000Z

We're home. My family and I, we are home.
Funny, isn't it, how you deal with something and live something and it all feels so endless and miserable and you just know that it will never be over and then, quite suddenly, it is over and you immediately feel as though that wasn't so bad after all? I think I feel a bit like that.
When did the rats come? Can you remember? I can't remember exactly when they came to that house we were living in, I remember how horrified I felt and how helpless and useless, how filthy and miserable it was to see and hear and above all, smell those creatures as they took over out home. The trapping, poisoning, fearing, month after month and then year after year. You don't get used to it, you get less horrified or perhaps actually you just get numb. Dead inside and you give up. I say you, I mean me. Me, I gave up. I stopped being able to care about anything in that house, H stopped caring and we just got through each day.
The house had the potential to be beautiful, a big solid house with character and promise, had the house been mine, who knows, it may have been beautiful but it wasn't, it belonged to a man who didn't care about much else getting his rent. So, that, as they say, was that.
Mould didn't matter, neither did leaking showers, no matter how often ( every 6 months for 4 years) we reported that the shower poured water through the ceiling onto the floor outside the lounge, it didn't get fixed and so we just got used to putting towels on the floor and we almost got used to the smell of damp, moldy floors.
We became accustomed to, thoug never used to, the smell of the rats. We didn't see any for the last few months of living in that house but we could still smell them, you know that saying" I smell a rat"? I can't tell you how many times I thought that over the last 3 years, what a foul, putrid stench that is.
Oh enough of the rats, we've been there and overdone that subject more than once. Enough because they may still be there but we're not. We left and we came home. Just like that, as if it was meant to be.
2 weeks ago I got a call from the council to say that our name had come up for a house and would we like to view it? Um YES we would. So we went to see this house, this ordinary house at the end of a street and we liked it.

It has 4 bedrooms, 2 toilets and a huge garden, a big, beautiful garden and when I stand in the garden I can see the river and trees, you see that? That is what I can see from my garden. Oh joy.
We had a week to move, one week, well to be specific, nine days. From start to finish, nine days. Day 1 as the ' would you like to see this house?' call and day 9, move in.
We did it. In nine days we packed, sold, dumped, bought, gave away, shifted, the new house is miles away from the old one and I drove 80=100 miles every day for those nine days taking boxes and bags. H stayed at the old house and he packed and cleaned and emptied and I drove and delivered, I advertised and sold all that we didn't want or need and by some miracle I made enough money to pay for the move and but what we needed for the new house. Almost to the penny, don't tell me that's a coincidence because I won't believe you.
We did this pretty much without any help, I paid a man with a van and a great man from church to move the big stuff, Sophie, my Sophie was like a pack horse, she and I have done so much lifting and dragging, cleaning and scrubbing, she has been my right hand woman and she is a star.
H is a veritable treasure, not a word has he muttered but he worked his fingers to the bone, we have been the 3 muskateers, a formidable team, if I say so myself.
At the end of each day I have literally crawled into bed, not a muscle has escaped the torture. My poor bones and back have been screaming in their poor old determination to be left alone, yesterday was the final day, the day to shut the door, hand the keys to the letting agency and walka away. H and I drove to the old house to collect the final load of bags and boxes and as we drove away the floodgates opened, the the relief and the sheer exhaustion came pouring out in a marvellously satisfying snot cry.
And so, here we are. At home, where we can stay forever, where we can choose exactly how we want things.
One thing that struck me, when we got the keys and could come here and look properly at the house is that there are no picture hooks, the walls are all bare and it's a blank canvas, this house. When you move into a rental house there are always picture hooks and that's where you hang your pictures, if there aren't enough hooks you can add your own but you never actually get to choose exactly where your pictures go, I was so thrilled to see that we can hang our pictures wherever we want.
We've been here 7 weeks now, 7 weeks and still, not a day passes by where we don't pinch ourselves and remind ourselves that this is it, our home, for real and for as long we choose to live here!
We have already done so much to make it ours. H and Isaac have built a pantry, a glorious, walk in pantry that is on it's way to being stocked and full of all the things we use.

I found some fabulous beds on Ebay and a Facebook selling site for the boys, they have great bedrooms...

Seth's room is small but pretty cool too,

Sophie's room is small as well but she has made it look beautiful!

Our room is one in progress and one of the things I love is knowing that there isn't a rush, we can take our time and do it all as we find what we need.

No carpet yet, that's something to look forward to!

I love this house, the garden is going to be such a joy, so much space, such glorious views, fresh ,sea air and a huge vegetable plot!

Isn't it great?

Look at the view on Christmas eve , standing in our garden....

Heaven is what this is. We had to wait a while but my goodness, this is so worth it.

Every mother's nightmare.

2011-11-08T00:08:00.000Z

I have a story to tell, it isn't my story but it's a gripping one, a sad one a terrifying and breath taking tale. The most terrifying part of the story is that it is true and it is happening right now.
I have a friend and because I love her I will not use her name but she needs help, as much help as we can muster between us and so here's her story.
My friend is a single mother of 6 boys, she has raised her sons alone for many years, since they were all quite little. 3 of them are now adults, the other 3 are still young enough to be at home with their mum, where they have always been happy and loved.
The problem now is that they aren't at home. They have been split up and spread out, sent to a foster family and family friends where they are beautifully looked after but they are not free.
They cannot see their mother unless they have a chaperon, one of the boys cannot see his mother at all unless a social worker is present, the social worker is always busy, never has time to take this wonderful young boy to see his mum. He has had health problems since he was a baby, he had trouble thriving and after being fed with a nasal tube, where his mum loved him and nurtured him, where she asked to be taught how to care for him so she wouldn't have to keep taking him back to the hospital every time he pulled his tube out. He grew and he learned and he did thrive and he grew to be a polite, friendly, happy teenager who then developed hydrocephalus, water on the brain as it used to be called.
He has had surgery and shunts put in his brain and as often happens sometimes he gets infections and complications, his mum is always there, always helping him and loving him, always putting him and his brothers before herself.
We spend a lot of time with this family because those boys are amazing, they are so polite and gentle, they are fabulous with my young boys are attentive and kind. We love being with them because in this unkind world they are an example to our boys, they show them how they can have fun without swearing and behaving badly.
I have never heard this mother raise her voice to her boys, I am sure she does, she has 6 boys, who could have 6 boys and not yell sometimes? I have never heard her though.
We go on picnics and have BBQs and her boys show mine how to cook, how to inflate the dinghy, they take them on the water and watch over them.
When this mum has to go to the hospital with the young man who has his shunts and surgeries, she can leave the younger boys in the care of the older ones and they are a credit to her. They go to church and that alone amazes me because usually. give a teenage boy the chance to skip church and they will grab it and run! These boys though, they go to church and they look after themselves and she doesn't have to worry if they are trashing the house, if they are going to school, if they are living the way she has taught them. She doesn't worry because she has taught them well, these are not regular boys, they are extraordinary boys.
In the summer, mother and son had to go to hospital for tests again, the tests showed that more tests were needed and a probe was inserted in his head to measure the pressure inside his brain. He was poorly and got an infection, he was really unwell and his mum stayed right with him, the way she always does. We, her friends, would text her and ask after her and her boy and she would reply, as she always does "Oh, he's doing OK, I am fine, no we don't need anything" she doesn't like a fuss, she doesn't believe she is worthy of fuss, she doesn't see that she is a great mum and that we love her and WANT to help her, she just goes on, day to day and does what a mother needs to do.
She is accused often of being too soft, her 2 eldest boys have left home and live in a flat and she buys them food when they need it and she will give them petrol money when they run out. Some say she should let them figure it out and that gong without won't hurt them but she is a good mother and so she will go without so they don't have to.
So she was at the hospital with her poorly boy and she slept in a chair for a week , then another week and she watched her boy in pain and have tests and more tests and she posted a few pictures of him with his probe in his head and told us all that he was doing OK and that he was being looked after and no, she didn't need anything, thank you.
On his birthday he seemed better and so she asked if she could take him to the local KFC for a treat, the Drs said that was fine and off they went, when they got there he said he didn't feel good and he started to look really sick so this mother took him straight back to the hospital, by the time they got there he was really sick, another infection, more surgery, more drugs, more praying. Thankfully he recovered and although weak he was still delightful, happy, polite, looking after the little kids in the hospital, enjoying visits from his friends and while he enjoyed the visits, mum sat in the background and enjoyed watching him have a good time with friends who cared enough to drive for 3 hours to see him.
For the whole of the summer holidays she stayed in the hospital while her boy got better, the nurses knew her and trusted her to help with his care, he is not a baby he is a teenager, a smart, cheerful, intelligent teenager who clearly has been raised well. She kept his hair shaved around the dressing and would put a new dressing on top of the old, never removing the old because that would have risked the probe/ shunt coming out. He had a drain in to drain fluid from his head to relive the pressure, fluid drained OUT of this tube, that was what it was supposed to do.
One day, after he had had the dressing tidied up and a new piece of dressing film added, he noticed when he was in the playroom that it was leaking and so he tod his mum, who immediately showed the nurse, it was fixed and cleaned up and that was that. Except it wasn't.
Someone, who knows who, some faceless person who undoubtedly had not spent anytime with this mother and son, perhaps someone who had been in and out and looked at the medical problem and not the person, decided that the infections and the fevers, the leaking and the sickness were not usual and that someone was making this awful stuff happen.
This faceless person decided it must be the mother.
The police were called and the mother was arrested.
She was locked in a cell and her boys were taken away from her.
The faceless people had decided and they had made a decision and here is where hell begins for this family.
No formal charges have been made, no results of any testing have been issued, no proof has been found and the police, it seems can take as long as they like to gather evidence. If there IS no evidence, oh well, they'll wait until someone somewhere finds some. Or not.
Social services do not, we are told need proof, if the police drop all charges, it won't matter because Social services do not need to prove those kids are in danger, they can keep these boys away from their mother and their mother away from them. They can insist that this boy can not speak to his mother unless a social worker is present. They kept him away from his brothers because they want him to open up and tell his foster family how his mother has been harming him all this time. They do not have to prove that the boys are or have ever been in danger, they are allowed to do whatever they think fit just because they believe there may be a tiny possibility that at some stage she has harmed him.
Do you know what is most terrifying? the fact that NOBODY, not the police, the social services or the faceless do gooder who started all this have ONCE spoken to any of these boys, they say the adult children don't count because they are adults and they don't care if these adults tell them they have been cared for and loved by their mother all their lives. They don't want to hear what the younger boys have to say because...WHY? Why don't they ASK these intelligent, polite, articulate young men what THEY think? Why don't they ask this splendid young 15 year old boy if his mother has ever, in any way done anything to hurt him?
These boys are not meek, feeble, anxious boys, they are not children with anger issues who have been problematic at school, these boys are ALL known for their good manners, for their great sense of humour, their kindness, they are open, well adjusted, funny boys. They are not shy, not aggressive, not attention seeking, trouble makers or in any way victims. Why will the powers that be, who have decided they must 'save' these boys not taken the time to speak to them? They are refused EVERY time they ask to speak. The are told it doesn't matter what they say.
Why is it OK to keep this family apart, why is it legal to do nothing? For social services to say they haven't the time or funding to arrange visits with their mother? Two of the boys are with friends, social services go to this home, a humble 2 bedroom bungalow that already has 2 adults and another teen boy in it and insist that the boys have to have their own rooms that the front room has to be a bedroom and that no-one can sit in in.They visit and they lay down rules and say what HAS to be...but they have yet to pay this family for caring for the boys. Oh red tape and hold ups and it's all someone else's fault and soon they will get around to it but for now, RULES!! Abide by the RULES!!
This week, the police were supposed to make a decision and either charge or drop all charges, it was thought that if charges were dropped ( and because there is ZERO evidence, we, the optimistic and naive believed that charges would be dropped) the boys could go home. The police, who, by the way, came into the home and tool everything away, computers, phones, every paracetamol tablet, foot cream, ( !?!?) the boys prescribed inhalers, diaries, every manner of personal items and left, without an inventory of what they have taken. Well, the police decided that they haven't had enough time and they tagged another 6-8 weeks on to the time they gave and so no charges were dropped. More waiting for this family.
Christmas is coming. Where will these boys be? Not at home with their mum, that's for sure. Unless social service relax their ridiculous chaperoning rules, they will not even see their mother on Christmas day, the boys are now allowed to meet each other and so she, this mother who has been accused of hurting her children has said that she would rather the boys all get together so they can enjoy each other's company rather than have them split up. If she were to go anywhere and bump into this one special boy, she will be in such serious trouble we can't even stand to imagine it. So she doesn't go to church, where she is so loved and so welcomed, she doesn't go to any of the social events that she used to take her boys to because she wants them to still be able to and have fun.
If she is there then a social worker has to be there too, she can spend time with the 2 boys who are staying with friends as long as the friends are there too, but if the young man who has been poorly is there, she has to leave, she leaves so her boys can be together, she doesn't think of how sad SHE is to not be able to see her children together, she wants THEM to be happy together.
This is a terrible injustice, it would have been marginally more acceptable if the faceless accuser had made his/her accusation, it had been investigated and then dealt with but this isn't what has happened.
They made these dreadful accusations without any evidence to prove what they were saying, they caused this family enormous pain and fear....how would YOU feel if someone suddenly said you were hurting your child and then have ALL of them taken away, to be treated with disgust, and then to be shoved in a corner and ignored?
What can we do?
I am writing this because I am hoping that someone who reads this will have some advice, where can we go? Who can we see? How can we get these boys an advocate? Who will be their voice and refuse to be pushed down and ignored?
This is a family, a great family. A happy family. A loving and kind family and they are being hurt, THEY are being abused by the very people who say that the children are the most important people here, yet they are not listening or caring for the children. There has be someone who can help this family, the solicitor assigned, from what I can gather is helpless, does nothing but relay messages saying "nothing can be done." That's because until charges have been made, if they are made, she isn't allowed to see ANY of the documents or paperwork about the case.
If anyone has any idea, if there is anyone who can spread this story and get this family help, please contact me and I will send your information to the places it will be best used. Thank you.

Bring it on, just be gentle.

2011-07-20T22:02:00.000Z

Oh, Hi! Hello! It's me. ME, the actual me. The one I used to be, back in the day when I could think and see things, when I could discern real from unreal, when things were hilarious and boring, sad and ordinary. All those different emotions in one, who knew how great they were, way back when I took them all for granted. When I would walk through town as though this was something everyone did, wandering in and out of shops without digging my fingers until they bled.
I'm back. Like some kind of glorious and unexpected miracle, by the power of medicinal marvellousness I am here.
Thank you Lord and Doctor R.
I have been ridiculously thrilled by things like being able to walk around a supermarket and look at what the shelves hold.
Walking from a car park to shops without a master plan of where to go, what to buy and how quickly I can retreat to the safety of my car again.
Waking up and realising that this feeling I have is a good mood, right from the get go, first thing in the morning, really...just like that!
Nothing else has changed, we still don't have anywhere to live, we still have no idea where we will be this time next month or the month after but now that is, as is should be, a worry that we will deal with when we need to, as we learn we have to leave this one, we'll deal with where we will go.
Actually, something has changed. Elijah is headed back to school and oh I had no idea how worried I was about homeschooling him until he said he wanted to go back to school and H agreed. I loved having him home for the first 9 months, then it seemed we got tired of each other's company all day every day. I am not a teacher, I never said I was a teacher, I never wanted to be a teacher and suddenly, I was a teacher. H did a lot of the homeschooling to start with and then I realised he was spending less time as a teacher/dad and I stepped in, between us we did a good job with what we have and having checked out how a few other homeschoolers do it, I think we did a really good job.
* Startling generalisation ahead*
I have had a bit of a mental image of people who home school, crunchy is the main descriptive word that springs to mind, all home baked goods and long knotty hair, mismatched stripey socks and a fierce determination that precious babies should never be made to do anything that makes them unhappy.
I am so not one of those people but never mind, we were up for this! Eli was sad at school and we had to take him out and teach him at home, build his confidence, teach him how to learn and we did that. I will admit that as time passed I became more grumpy about it and H became less enthusiastic about it and Elijah most definitely became less attentive, happy, co-operative and nice. Oh he so forgot nice, my Eli the nicest of nice children, that smiley little chap who buffoons his way through the day was a feisty little door kicker.
He didn't like Seth and he was cross at his used to be best friend Isaac, he has kicked and thrown and wobbled and sighed and none of us has had any fun for a few weeks.
I like my own company, I used to be happy just going out and doing whatever I felt like doing, meeting friends, not meeting friends, shopping or driving or just being here reading and cleaning.
I lost that, I had this little boy here who needed his day filled with not just company and fun but IMPORTANT stuff, learning stuff, informative and developing stuff and the responsibility of that is HUGE. I wasn't worried particularly about the here and now, that was working, he is reading and writing and learning times tables, he was making and building, going with H to the allotment and making Cob walls, like they used to back in the day. He was digging and planting and climbing and running, we have been to the zoo and the moors, the airport and the beach. We have looked at and learned and written and remembered, charted and journalled and all was fine. For now.
I couldn't help but keep creeping into the future and as we prepare Seth for the grammar school in September, as we watch his excitement and begin Isaac's preparations for the same journey, I would look at the little boy left here with us and wonder 'what about him?' He is so different to Seth and Isaac, I can't imagine him ever going to a grammar school, that's not a 'he's not as smart' comment, it's a mother knowing her child. He is more like Dan and Jordan and I imagine that he will be like them and decide what he wants to do and then go for it, do what needs doing and do it beautifully.
Whether he goes to the grammar school or not isn't the point, what worried me was doing something that would scupper his chance to choose.
So the other day, when Isaac was poorly and had the day home from school, he and Eli were inseparable all day, just like old times, at 2 o'clock in the afternoon Eli said, as he leaned against Isaac "What am I feeling? Oh, I know. I'm not lonely sometimes, I am lonely ALL the time...would it be a happy thing to go back to school?"
YES! Yes it would indeed!

Eli has been a delightful happy chappy ever since, he has a great teacher next year and is thrilled that he will be in Alfie's class. I can't help but think of the time H and I will have to do the things we like to do. To clean the house and have it stay that way for 6 hours, to hand over all that responsibility of schedules and lesson plans, of projects and plans to the teachers and to go back to being the supporter in all that stuff.
I may be so excited that I have already bought his school uniform!
Excited....did you read that? Excited, how long since I had any emotion other than sadness or fear? I am so grateful to feel better, I don't even care that meds are to thank, just the fact that I feel better, that I can think clearly again and see there is hope and all is not bleak. I felt as though I was walking under filthy water, thick, dirty, stagnant water. I love being back in the fresh air and being able to hold my head up again.
Now I can get on and do what needs doing. I just hope the universe is kind to me..... bring on the good stuff. Please.

Let's not go there again.

2011-07-17T00:18:00.000Z

This morning, I woke up at 11 o'clock and I did not feel utter despair.
Look at that sentence, one little sentence that means something so huge I can barely think how to start explaining. It has been so long since I woke up feeling anything but complete and overwhelming sadness that I almost didn't understand what was happening this morning.
For longer than I care to remember, each morning as I wake up I would surface from whatever kind of disturbed sleep I had been having and almost immediately I am swamped with a sinking misery at the thought of starting another day, with almost a pleading thought of wishing it wasn't true.
I used to try and shake that feeling off, take a deep breath and mentally pull myself together and get on with it. Slowly that got harder and harder to do and eventually, a few months ago I was unable to do anything more than not cry, stand up and drag myself down to do what needed doing.
This morning, when I woke up and I opened my eyes I knew something had changed, to start with I had slept for 9 hours straight. Nine hours, oh my goodness. Nine solid hours of dream free, proper sleep. That is enough to make most things seem easier to deal with but I knew something else was happening.
After my terrifying foray into suicidal thoughts I knew I had to get more help, I went straight to my lovely and patient doctor who listened to me ( again) and so kindly said ' Helen, please don't believe those things you were thinking, you are the best mother your children could ever ask for and only you can be that, I know they love you, I know Howard needs you and I know that they would never get over it if anything happened to you" and then she said " You don't believe me, do you? I can see you don't believe me but it is true and if ever you start to think that way again, call someone, anyone and get them to come to you"
As she was speaking I saw that she meant what she said, I knew she believed it and I knew that I couldn't take my own life....and all I felt was sad and more trapped but I listened to her and I took the prescription for the new medicine and I listened to her instructions on how to taper off one and increase the new one and in my head I was hearing "blah blah blah"
I took one new tablet in the morning and cut down to one of the old ones in the evening for a week, then I took 2 new ones in the morning and tried one night without the old one and that was a rough day, a miserably rough day, dizzy and headachey and the following day was one of lowest of low emotions. That day I tried one new med in the morning, one in the evening and no old medicine. I was awake all night but I didn't feel the same desperate misery the next day, so then I tried 2 new tablets in the morning and no old ones at all.
I think I have found the right balance.
I can feel that the new ones are starting to do what they are meant to do.
I still have unbelievable dizziness and also a low grade headache, which I am told may last for 2 or 3 weeks. The thought that in 2 weeks I can really feel alive again is so exciting.
I have acquired a whole new understanding of depression, I have thought I was depressed for 20 years but honestly, whatever that was was a walk in the park compared to this latest black hole of despair. I have felt as though I was trapped in a cage, able to see what was happening outside but completely unable to either care, or join in . Nothing but an echoing nothingness. The very worst part is feeling as though this is how it will always be, not having any belief that it can get better. That's what made me imagine that dying was the only way out, I understand why people give up and take that way out. I hope I never, ever feel so desperate again.
I did the ironing today, another tiny sentence that means so little until you look behind what I actually just wrote.
I looked at a pile of crumpled clothes and I got out my glorious Elna press and I sat for 2 hours and ironed them all. That basket or ironing has been in the middle of the kitchen for months. I take out what people need as they need it and I tut and sigh as I iron it, I hang clothes up without ironing it, I put clothes away without ironing them unless they are so crumpled that even I, in my bleak pit of misery can't pretend they will 'do' and then they go in the green laundry basket in the kitchen and I scowl at it every time I walk in there. I know lots of people don't iron, I have more friends who will admit to never using an iron than friends who do but the thing is I DO iron, I love crease free clothes, I love my Elna press, I can look at a mountain of newly pressed cotton pillowcases and feel actual joy...so for me to walk past a basket of clothes that need ironing is a huge misery flag that has been flapping in the face of pernickitiness for month after month. Bye bye crumpled bleakness, hello sharp creases and beautiful crisp pillowcases!
I feel like I have been let out in the fresh air after months of being shut under the stairs.

Unsurprisingly I had a letter to say that I scored ZERO in the govt medical, I have absolutely no reasons at all why I can't go to work full time, apparently. That means our benefits are cut down again and I either have to accept that or fight it, I can't even begin to imagine fighting it until I imagine not fighting and then I am so incensed that I can feel this way, have to live with this crippling and miserable depression and yet have some stranger tell me that all I have to do is pull myself together and stop faking it all, that is enough to make me want to go and face these people and make them understand what depression can do to a person.
Depression can take a perfectly normal, happy person and strip them of every ounce of joy, steal from them the ability to do even the most mundane and formerly taken for granted daily activity. Rip away the ability to shop, eat normally, sleep, speak. I have become expert at shopping in under 20 minutes. 20 minutes inside a supermarket seems to be my limit. Walk in, find what we need ( forget anything we may rather like) grab it, get to a check out and leave before the sweating, hyperventilating, leg trembling fear takes over.
I think ( though I secretly doubt) that I have managed to stand while people I know speak to me, if we meet unexpectedly in the street ( Oh no, ON NO! Please don't talk to me, please don't see me, please walk past me, please) I think I may be quite good at nodding in the right places and hiding the fact that in my head I am thinking " please stop talking, please go away, I can't answer you, I have nothing to say anymore, I am so dull, can you walk away now......thank you"
I am more tired that I imagine it possible to be, with all that thinking and more thinking and rethinking, the effort it takes to avoid people is exhausting in itself.
I am relieved to see a tiny chink of light at the end of that interminable tunnel.
I hope I am nearing the end of this particular trip, I don't care that drugs seem to be the vehicle that is taking me to the finishing line, I will take whatever works and most of all I will shout it from the rooftops when I get to the land of happiness and light. When I get there, I will step off the train, walk out onto the platform and say, as loudly as I can manage, " Let's not ever go there again."

On being here.

2011-07-03T23:55:00.000Z

This is a tough one and one that I would rather not write but I started this and so I owe it to me to keep a track of what is happening so I can look back and see what worked for me, or what didn't. What isn't working right now is the medicine they gave me. It's not working at all.
When my dad was 19, his dad committed suicide, my dad never recovered from that. He and his dad were very close, best friends, with mathematically brilliant like minds. They did everything together and grandpa was the only person who truly understood my dad. He was angry about how his dad could choose to remove himself from their lives and didn't understand why he would do what he did. As a result we have grown up thinking suicide is a selfish and unthinking act and one that we could never understand.
I often have thought how people who choose to end their lives must be so wrapped up in their troubles that they must forget about even the most loved people around them, if you loved your family then you couldn't put them through such a thing, could you?
I have, over the past few days had an insight into why and how someone can begin to feel that this is the only choice available.
I went to the dreaded government medical and it wasn't at all the way it usually is, the doctor had called in sick ( Ironic? Yes, indeed, I wonder if anyone called him to ask if he was incontinent and if he was able to pick up and move an empty cardboard box because if he can then why wasn't he AT WORK DAMMIT? ) I have no idea why but the other people were sent home and they looked at me and said " let's see what we can do" What they did was have a lovely nurse interview me and I was left completely befuddled because she was nice and she was friendly. She asked me questions like " do you self harm?" and then said " this is a yes or no question, you are entitled to a private life, they do not need specifics, just tell me yes or no. So I did just that. I left feeling as though I had no idea what that was all about, it was nice to have not been interrogated but I felt so useless and as usual after these things as though I have no real value in this world at all.
She asked me questions that I just couldn't answer because my brain isn't working. I can't remember anything, time is a big old fuddled mess, I can't remember if I did something this week or when I was 12. I can't get words out even if I can remember so really, it doesn't matter.
I don't know what is real lately, I find it almost impossible to discern peoples' intentions which means I take enormous offence where there is none or I laugh when someone is being serious. I am, quite frankly, an actual idiot.
I am overwhelmed with being overwhelmed. I find normal noise unbearable to the point where I am reduced to a sobbing heap when all 3 boys are being boys at the same time, in the same room.
I sleep for 2 hours at a time, 2 hours of coma like sleep then WIDE AWAKE in a second and awake for an hour or two and then back to sleep for 2 hours and then UP for the day until 3 o'clock in the afternoon and I can't stay awake and so I fall asleep but only for one hour and then AWAKE and so frantic, my mind never stops, never stops, I dream when I sleep and I dream about being tired and busy and unable to stop so when I wake up I am SO AWAKE AND SO ....yes, like that.
And so, here we are. Or I am. I am here and I'm glad about that because it's been a bit touch and go to be honest.
I was on my own yesterday, or the day before, I can't tell. I lay on my bed and as I started to relax my mind started to race and all I could think about was how impossible it must be to live with me or actually have anything to do with me lately and how, even though I have tried, I am not getting better. I am considerably worse. I can't leave the house unless I have someone with me, I cannot speak to people without feeling so overwhelmed with panic that I avoid it at all costs. I can shop if I know what I need and I know where it is and I can get in and get out in 20 minutes or so. I am more likely to drive Sophie to the shop and tell her what to buy. (The great part of that is the amount of money I am saving, but wait, when will I ever be able to spend it? I'd better get healed soon or this could end in tears.)
The more my brain raced the more hopeless I felt because I really thought this would be over by now. I have had periods before when my depression has spiralled and I have been unable to function as well as usual but I have always been able to force myself to do what is really important. Those times were fleeting in comparison to this round, those times were like little practise runs for this real go.
I felt completely helpless. I feel completely helpless and all I could think was " this is it, this is how I am and I won't get better, there is no-one that can help me and this is what everyone has to deal with" and I couldn't imagine doing this for ever. I could not imagine H and the children having to put up with this level of crazy and my being so unpredictable any more and the feeling was so terrifying I understood what drives people to just give up and give in.
I was so afraid of feeling that way that I told H, I told him because I knew that would stop my mind going any further down that path. I thought of my dad and how devastated he was for his whole life and how he never recovered and I knew that my family would feel the same way.
I cut my medicine down to half the dose, tomorrow I am going to see my Dr and ask her to change it completely, I have to believe that it is the medicine that is making me feel this way. Whatever it is, I have to stop it, I hate being so out of control of how I feel and it's like watching this miserable existence from a distance, my life feels as though it is all in slow motion and I'm standing on the sidelines, watching, while the devil takes control.
My skin is crawling 24 hours a day, my face feels as though it is being eaten by ants, hurty bitey ants with sharp and burning fangs. When I start to relax at 3am when I eventually go to bed, I see bugs, creepy crawly bugs on my pillow.
This is FUN isn't it?
I am glad that I could think about my dad. I am happy that there was still enough of MY mind left that I knew there was more than one choice. I don't think I will ever say again that I don't understand why anyone would kill themselves. I think I do understand and I am so sorry that those people didn't have just one person or one thing to think of that stopped them from believing that the world would be better off without them.
H told me that I am loved and that this world wouldn't be a better place without me and because he doesn't say those words randomly, I knew I could believe him. I wish I could feel the words instead of just hearing them and thinking that they must be true if he is saying them.
I hope this is over soon....in the happy ever after way of course!

Picture perfect.

2011-06-19T21:21:00.000Z

Hello Lola.

2011-06-15T21:29:00.000Z

No matter how dark a night can be, the smallest light can break it.
Sometimes there is the most glorious flash of light that lets you see right into the future.
Lola-Mae was such a light today. She was born, on her due date at 5pm. How very timely of her.
Truth be told she has been a bit of a stinker, she has had her mummy believing everyday for the last 3 weeks that THIS is the day. Oh poor Mel, contractions and back aches and every sign under the stars that THIS IS THE DAY. It is a SIGN!
We have been back and forth to the hospital, we have waited for midwives, she has had sweeps and more sweeps and has, I suspect, the cleanest and most well kept and swept cervix in all the land. A cervix made of steel that was not letting that baby out early, nope, no matter what you try ( reflexology, hot spicy food, walking for hours and miles) That baby was not for shifting.
Until today.
Mel went for her midwife's appointment at 12.30 and she had another sweep, at 1pm she called me and she said " My waters just broke in the shop..I can't walk, can you come and get me?" So I did, although she waddled damply back to her midwife who said that indeed her waters HAD broken ( although there was no doubt there was a veritable flood) she said that she didn't need to go to the hospital yet, not until the pain was bad and she was contracting every 5 minutes or so.
We drove to Mac Ds and her contractions had already started, she laughed as one finished just as we got there and said that she was happy that had ended in time for her to have a cheeseburger. By the time the cheeseburger arrived her contractions were every 3 minutes and she was really feeling them, no messing about or wondering if these were real, we had time to run into a supermarket, grab some drinks and some new clothes and drive to the hospital.
We arrived about 3.00 and it was obvious that at last this baby was coming, for real and soon. We looked at the clock at 3. 30 and said " We'll expect her at 5 then"....and laughed because that was quick, wasn't it?
At 4pm she was 8 cms and she asked for drugs, anything, something just give her anything because this was so awful, at 4.20 she said that there was no point in having drugs because she wasted to PUSH AND SHE COULDN'T NOT PUSH! She was fabulous and Jordan was fabulous and I wasn't needed at all.
I am so proud of these people. I am so honoured that I could watch that little girl be born. I love to see how my son loves his wife, I love how gentle he is and how kind he is, how he truly just wants whatever makes her happy. I loved seeing how he knew by just a hand signal what she was telling him. ( although to be honest, some of them were pretty easy to understand!) I loved watching how she held onto him as she pushed and as she tried not to push.
Watching that huge man cry when his daughter came into the world is something that is priceless to me and I am so grateful that they let me see that. I did feel, today, as if I was somehow intruding, I tried not to and I stayed out of the way taking a few pictures that I knew Mel would treasure later, they made her cross at the time as she yelled "What are you doing? What are you taking pictures OF?" and I would say " nothing awful, you'll be glad later" and I think she will be.
So now I have a grandson and a granddaughter and I know just why they are called 'Grand' Oh they are so grand. There is nothing MORE grand let me tell you. I had no idea and then Josh was born and I was so gloriously surprised and I am still endlessly thrilled with just how grand it is to be a Gramma. He adores me you see, that little man and I so hope that Lola does too, as she gets bigger. I drove past their house this week and I tooted the car horn and then I had to drive past a little way to park. As I opened my car door I could hear his bereft sobbing because he "saw gramma, where IS gramma? Josh saw gramma's car, I WANNA SEE GRAMMA!!!" and he is always SO pleased to see me. People don't need dogs to get that unconditional love thing, get a grandbaby.
Do you want pictures? What?
Ok, here they are......

Laughing gas...which did not make her laugh, this was a fast and furious labour, no laughing allowed.

Can you see that love? Look how she needed him and how he held on to her as tightly as she held onto him.

Brand new and daddy cutting the cord.

Sweet Lola-Mae, we love you so much already.

All 8lbs 4oz of you.

Anybody able to resist tiny brand new baby feet does not have a heart.
I have a heart and this little girl is already so deeply wrapped around it, Hello Lola-Mae, welcome to our family. We love you.

The thing.

2011-06-12T10:03:00.000Z

Here's the thing. Wait, the thing? What's the thing? Oh it's that thing you can't quite name, that fills your life and inconveniences you and swallows up your entire everything but you still can't quite name it. That thing. And here it is.
Still.
The thing is still here and bloody hell I am shocked and mad about that.
I had the melt down and I saw the doctor and another one and then a mental health person and they all looked at me like 'that', like I had 'the thing' and then they sent me to another person who did the same and eventually I ended back with my GP and she gave me the look too and she told me she was worried and gave me some medicine that should help me and told me if it didn't help she could give me some more and then I was done.
I was quite pleased with how that all went, with seeing all those helpful people and seeing that I was clearly not making this all up and it is, most definitely, all in my head and they have some more people they want me to see, to be evaulated by, perhaps they can deal with this thing.
I did all that and I told all those people and I cried a lot and did what they said and I assumed it would be over then.
I think H thought the same because he has been so understanding and patient and kind, seeming to understand that the thing that is all in my head can't be helped and is real.
I find, all these weeks later that I am both cross and embarrassed that it is not all over.
I see that H is feeling the same.
It got the better of me last night, something I have fought hard against. We all knew that at some stage, in fact at several stages it might and most probably would get the better of me and I think we have all been tip toeing around in the hope that it wouldn't show itself, or misbehave, that it would stay in my head and have a little escape when everyone was asleep and not make itself all SHOUTY AND IN YOUR FACE!
The thing, it would seem, is acceptable and understandable and 'there, there, you're doing good, we understand', as long as it stays in my head, where it belongs, Bloody thing.
I took the meds and I saw they were working a bit because I cleaned things and felt good about it. I started to think that in-patient care was a scary thing instead of the thing to be longed for. I told my Dr about that she she said that WAS good because in-patient care where we live is pretty much an impossibility which took the wind out of my sails and the rug from underneath my feet, they told me a plan and if I needed it, I just had to do this, followed by that and I would be safe, which made me feel secure and more able to not need it. Now I know that was just something they told me, to stop me needing it, I sort of feel like I DO need it and they LIED and so NOW WHAT?
The Dr told me to double the dose and see how that goes, well it goes in a way that makes me feel as if ants are eating my face but I am starting to care less, so does that mean they are working? I don't know.
They didn't work very well last night and so here I am, scratching my face while the ants eat it and wondering what to do next.
I'm not at church and neither are the boys.
I fought with H last night and he is a sulker so he is still showing me the error of my ways by ignoring me and he walked to church an hour and a half before he needed to and I showed him that he hasn't showed me anything by sitting here in my pyjamas. Consider us well and truly shown.
I have this niggling voice in my head saying "This is not showing the boys anything good" and another one replies with " So? I'm crazy, crazy people can't think straight, what do you want me to do about it?" and so I sit here in my pyjamas and fight with myself in my head.
I think, today, that I am feeling sort of stunned and cross because I realised that this thing isn't a fleeting hiccup that someone handed me so I could take a break. I feel like I ought to be getting over it and be back to normal. The thing is, nothing has changed, has it? I am still here with uncertainty snapping at my heels. I am still having to deal with all the paperwork and phone calls and appointments and answering questions and more questions and getting letters telling me what is being taken away and what we will have to do without and nothing is coming back to tell me what we will have in it's place.
I am still here trying to balance it all and keep it all running for everyone else, trying not to have THEM feel any of what I am feeling.
So I lost control last night and it wasn't over nothing, it was perhaps out of proportion and I will admit that ordinarily I would be appalled at the way I reacted, but here's the thing. HERE...it's right HERE and didn't you hear when I told you about it? What the hell?
All that explaining, what was that about? It was to try and prepare you for the fact that maybe, there will be times when just keeping my mouth shut wouldn't be possible. Just keeping it in, this thing, wouldn't work. It was to try and explain that when something horrible is kept stuffed down, for 20 years or more and then it starts to try and escape, chances are some of it will come out and it isn't going to be in an orderly, 'I say, here's the thing, I do hope it won't inconvenience you or make you uncomfortable' kind of way. I thought that's what all that explaining was about, all the trying to recount what Drs and mental health people said to me. I thought as I explained and you saw me leave for another appointment with another person and as I showed you the drugs they gave me and then as I tried to describe how those were making me feel, you would grasp that this thing isn't something I made up to get me some attention, it isn't a cunning way to get us a house quicker, it isn't a plan to get the government to give us money for nothing, it's a real thing.
So when I lost it because it seemed as if someone was going to hurt one of my children and the reaction wasn't pleasing to you, how wise was it to call me the hysterical mother?
I didn't even lose it. I just gave it a moment to show itself, it's still here, right where I can find it. Not lost at all.
Here's the thing. It's here, wherever I am and yes, it is making me hysterical.
If it's any help to you at all, it's no fun for me either. It's my party and I'll cry, even if I don't want to.

As clear as mud.

2011-06-06T22:06:00.000Z

The landlord is sending an Estate agent here tomorrow to value the house, we were supposed to leave here on Friday and oh, how I wish we had. The agents called and said that they had received my email telling them that we had, as yet been unable to find alternative housing and that the Landlord was disappointed to hear that. Shame, my heart bleeds for him, imagine the trauma of having tenants who are still in your property, paying rent and cleaning it. He was so kind and said ( via the rental agents naturally) that he will not take further action as long as we understand that this is not an open invitation to stay indefinitely. He wants an update in a couple of weeks and if we are still here he will have no option but to take matters further.
My care is still broken which is handy in this case.
I am pottering, the house looks as though something is going on, pictures are down and some are packed, the rest are piled up waiting for the fairies to bring boxes. Ornaments are packed, apart from the ones I forgot to pack.
I have sorted through clothes and taken piles to the recycling centre, our bedroom doesn't look any different but it is actually pretty much packed up, apart from the stuff that isn't packed up, which is most of it.
I am so organised I'm meeting myself coming home, before I've even gone out.
The thinking I have done about packing and getting this house ready to give back is impressive, I am convinced that when the time comes I can put into action all the plans I have made and it will run like a well oiled machine, it will be effortless.
The kitchen really looks good. There is a big fan in there that has been moved from somewhere else and whenever I walk into the kitchen and see it, I know we are getting ready to move and that fan will either be coming with us, or not.
We have been eating the food from the pantry to save money and also to get rid of it so we don't have to pack that and take it. Have you ever read 'The magic porridge pot'? Good heavens our pantry is like that. We are ploughing through it and it is staying as full as it ever was. It is a marvellous work and also a wonder because I knew it was a great pantry but ye gads will we ever use it up? I suspect there will still be an awful lot of packing and moving of food stuffs when we leave here. Even though we have ALL THIS FOOD we all seem to stand in the kitchen and stare at it wondering what on earth we can eat and wishing we could just have Fish and Chips because NO MORE PASTA AND SAUCE FOR THE LOVE OF STORE CUPBOARDS!
I am sort of scrubbing as I go along, which is testament to marvellous drugs ( prescription only of course) I want to say that there is no change despite the new meds because I still have several gulping and panic stricken moments a day and one huge one every night but there are noticeable differences. Yesterday I saw how dirty the kitchen floor was by the back door and I CLEANED IT. Right there and then, I actually swept and sprayed and cleaned and then looked at it and thought "that's better"
That may sound unremarkable to most people but to me, it is a glorious and miraculous thing. I cannot remember the last time I did anything like that.
I have looked and seen dirt and mess and I stare at it and then walk away because 'what is the point?' I could clean it and some bugger will come along and undo it all withing 20 minutes, guaranteed. I will think about the mess that I saw and be completely overwhelmed by how exhausting it would be to clean it and then feel shame that I can see it and leave it and so then I will plan when I will clean it, eventually, I will half heartedly and extremely grumplily bloody well do it because no-one else will, will they? Nope, it's always left to me and THERE it's clean. Ish. It'll do.
Most evenings, when everyone has gone to bed I will stare at this room and sigh, it can be a nice room, albeit small and cluttered. I will tidy it and pick up toys and I'll put them on the stairs ready to take up when I go up, then I will walk past them for days until Eli just brings them back in here anyway.

I started this post a week ago, so that shows just how great those meds are doing! Heh. Bloody hopeless.
Sloth. I am a sloth, with the energy of slug.
I did ask H yesterday if he has noticed a change in me this past 2 weeks, since being on the new meds and he said he rather liked that cleaning I did last week. It was a glimpse of how I used to be, apparantly. I don't think I'll be getting taken for granted any time soon, so that's good.
I picked up some boxes to pack more stuff today, they're all staring at me from the back yard, if it rains tonight we'll be unstuck, I may move them inside the workshed, just in case. I shall be thinking of what I can pack in them in the meantime, this thinking about moving is positively exhausting I tell you.

It's Joshua's 3rd birthday tomorrow, dear Josh. I have managed to get his birthday presents together which has impressed even me, they are even at his house so he can have them when he wakes up, the boys are back at school tomorrow and so it's anyone's guess when I will get to see the birthday boy. Oh, even the smallest thing is so HARD, so overwhelmingly steep.
Lola is due any day. A granddaughter. She is already such a light in the darkness, such a hope and thing of joy, something to look forward to and already, even before she is born she has done so much for me and my grumpy, slothful self.
Mel's mum is in Turkey, she lives there and is supposed to be moving back here at the end of the summer, enough about her, the only reason I mention her is because as she isn't here, I am being the mother. I love this daughter in law of mine and I don't think I could love her more if I had given birth to her, she is the sweetest of girls and I know she makes Jordan happy, they are glorious together and a joy to see as a family.
The pregnancy is not fun for Mel anymore, she is having all kinds of signs that birth is imminent, shows and pains and more show and more pain, contractions and no contractions and rarely a day goes by that I am not down there keeping her company or taking her out, driving her to the hospital, sitting with her while she waits for the midwives and every time I do that, I feel closer to her. Every time she calls or texts or sends a message on Facebook, I feel less like her mother in law and more like her mum.
I am beyond excited that she wants me there when Lola is born. Watching Joshua being born 3 years ago tomorrow was such a blessing, something that I will always remember. I have given birth 6 times and so none of the mechanics of it was a surprise but I have never been an 'outsider,' a witness before and it truly is a miracle. Oh, I am so excited to see Lola being born and to know that she is a part of this lovely family. There is an enormous sense of greatness to be the Matriarch of this family, to be the 'old' one. I don't mind getting older at all, the treasure that comes with age is so much more valuable to anything that we think is important when we are young.

I really hope that this sadness I have inside is not being passed on to any of my children, or their children. I am trying so hard to keep going, to keep being who I am to them all and not allow this awful sense of heaviness to show. I think that's why I am so tired, so bone achingly tired.

Next week we have a pediatrician's appointment for Isaac, my GP is concerned that since his initial diagnosis we haven't seen anyone, have had no support and indeed, have managed to limp along working it all out for ourselves. Now he is nearly 10 we are seeing things that we may need more help with, he has gone from being the most placid of children to being quite volatile, his anxieties are affecting him more because he is older and is aware that his reluctance to try new things makes him noticeable, he hates not being able to just go with the flow and really hates the fact that he stands out when he is hiding or unable to do what his classmates are doing effortlessly.
Seth has 6 weeks left at primary school and so we are already preparing for his starting at Senior school in September, this has Isaac feeling very nervous as he will be in year 6 in September and knows that this is the year he will prepare for this huge move. This is another reason we are going back to the pediatrician, so that we can have a more up to date diagnosis and get help and support for Isaac to help him when he needs it.
I've flipped from one topic to another in this post, sorry about that, welcome to my head. I think I have made my thoughts as clear as they come to me, which is in a muddy kind of landslide kind of way. Clear as mud. You're welcome.

The good dad.

2011-06-05T22:10:00.001Z

Sometimes, we appreciate our husbands when they do what we want them to do, when we ask them to do something and they do it. That's a good thing, we like that.
As mothers we particularly like it when our husbands do what we tell them. I mean ask them, we don't *tell* them to do anything, do we ? That would be dreadful, imagine *telling* your husband what to do...as if! So, we, as mothers, know our children and we naturally know what is best for children because we are the mother, there's even a saying, isn't there? "Mother knows best"
When I was raising Dan, Jordan and Sophie, I was alone, so of course I did things my way and if I say so myself look at those people! Didn't they turn out just as perfectly glorious as it is possible to be? I did that, me, just me. I'm good.
Now I have these 3 little boys and naturally I know that I can do it, I know how to raise them and do a good job but hmm,this time, I'm not doing it alone and even though I have been with H longer than I was ever on my own I still find myself looking at my life and feeling quite surprised that here he is, doing what he does and doing it so beautifully and quietly and without much a-do.
Then, we have days where he will do something without consulting me ( I know! Imagine, he is a brave and fearless man) and today was one of those days. We were at the park, it was Joshua's birthday celebration and we had cake and played and just as we were thinking that maybe we could leave and go home and sit and stare at a wall, as older parents like to do sometimes, Jordan decided that he would take Joshua on the lake, in a canoe!
Thanks Jordan.
Jordan has one son and this was an exciting plan! Hoorah! So there we were, Jordan with his one son and H with his 3 and a little tag-a-long called Alfie, I say little but he isn't, he is a sturdy fellow, the same age as Elijah, in fact he was in Eli's class at school. back when Eli went to school and even though he doesn't go to school anymore, he still has friends! It's a miracle and I suspect that the lady who comes to do the home educuation checks will be surprised and even a little unbelieving when we say " actually, we do teach Elijah at home but he has FRIENDS, real ones that aren't animals or imagined " and when she looks at us askance we shall say PICTORIAL EVIDENCE! Take *THAT* you unbeliever. Oh, I digress.
So Alfie was with us and there were 4 boys and 1 Howard and all 4 boys were jumping and doing that little boy thing "PLEASE! PLEASE! can we go in the canoes? Can we? Huh? CAN WE DO IT?" and I, in my maternal wisdom tried to explain that this wouldn't be possible, would it, how would 4 little boys fit in a canoe with one daddy? Another day maybe, we'll do that another day.
H though, said , well look, lets think, we can go and ask how long each session is and maybe we can swap out and everyone will have a turn, it's £4 each person so that's £20, that's pretty good, we'll do it, it'll be fun, everyone will have a turn and off they went, while I did what I do so well, which is get the camera ready and sit in the sunshine recording it all.
I sat in the park with Mel, who also could not get into a canoe, and I had my camera ready and was intrigued when I saw that all 4 boys and H were kitted out with their life jackets and paddles or whatever they are at the same time. Isaac has yet to get the confidence to try these things alone and wherever H is, there will Isaac be also. Alfie is not our child and so we knew he would also be with H because you can't decide with someone else's child that he can BE A MAN and TRY! Hmm, so how's this going to work then? And then I realised what was happening. H and Isaac and Alfie were going into the 3 man canoe, the larger, more boat like vessel that is roomy and sturdy. That's good.
Seth, who has more confidence in himself than I have ever seen in a person in my life, is always 100% sure that he a) can do it and b) will do it better than anyone else who has been canoeing before and so we knew that he could do it and also that he would do it as well as many other people.
So that's OK then, H, Isaac and Alfie and of course Seth are set, lovely.
What's this?
Look....Wait! WAIT! There has been a MISTAKE! H!!!! HHHHH! This thing that is happening! Is this WISE? And H looked at me and nodded because yes, it is wise.
Elijah is climbing into a canoe.
On.His.Own.
Elijah Henry with the clumsy thing, with the inability to walk from one side of the room to another without tripping or falling or just throwing himself down to see what happens. The whole 'if there is something to fall in, under, over or through, Eli will do it. Always. If there is a puddle, Eli will find it, if there is mud, he will fall in it, if there is dinner, he will drop it, a drink, spill it. That Eli.
This is when I turn my back and walk away, or hold my breath and watch through squinty eyes and every time. every single time, I kick myself for doubting H.
I watched that little man grab the oars or paddles and off he went, straight towards the bank and a clump of trees ...and then steer away before he went into them, I saw him look for Jordan and paddle right out to the deep bit, say Hello to Jordan and Joshua and then paddle away, then he did a couple of trips to and fro and then headed back. He wanted to get out, enough and 10 minutes for a little chap is more than enough when you are 7 and your arms get tired and you are absolutely the captain AND crew of your vessel.
I know what is best for my children and sometimes that means I know that I have to step back, swallow that smothering instinct and let H do what he knows is best for his children.
He's a good dad, is H.
When these boys are men and we look at them, we will say " We did that" and I am pretty sure it will feel every bit as satisfying as saying " I did that" I can say without doubt that a child can be raised successfully by one parent but truly, now I am living this life, this one where my children have two parents who know what is best and who do what they know their children need, the difference between doing this alone and doing it together is unbelievable and I know that this is by far the best way to do it.

Prove it.

2011-06-01T23:07:00.000Z

It's that time again. One of my least favourite times as a person living with depression and being in receipt of government benefits, it's time to stand in front of those who will not be fooled and prove the crazy. Answer the questions that will show them whether I am fit for work. In fact the way this is done has changed somewhere and today I received a questionnaire that I have to fill in and return, I can take a few days to complete it, in case it is difficult. The questions are clear and there are multiple choice answers.
Do you have trouble controlling your bladder or bowels? Yes. No. Sometimes.
Can you lift an empty cardboard box? Etc, choose one answer.
Can you lift a carton containing a pint of liquid ( eg Milk)
Can you reach and touch a top pocket when you are wearing the jacket?
Can you learn to do something new, like set an alarm clock?
Can you learn to do something more complicated like using a washing machine.
I think I'm in here, I can do ALL those things, clearly I should be out working, because I can lift an empty box, set my alarm clock to wake me up to put my pants that I have not shit in, in the washing machine that I learned to use ALL ON MY OWN!
I am going to start looking for work in brain surgery or head office of Tesco because frankly, I see now that I am capable of most anything, there is not stopping me.
Apart from the fact that I can't stand to be around people, burst into tears when I go somewhere and forget how to drive on the way home and sit snot crying in a lay by because for the love of crazy what the hell? The so small it seems ridiculous to even mention point that I often, when feeling overwhelmed by huge tasks such as having to answer a question about oh, what now, oh, I know, anything at all these days, will find me answering with a bellowed "WHAT?!" that leave the questioner stunned or perhaps shaking wouldn't matter at all, would it?
If say I had a job in Asda, or somewhere and a customer were to ask me where the high juice is and I bellow "WHAT?!" at them, would that matter? I mean it's not like I pee myself at all and I can easily remove a handkerchief from a top pocket even if I happen to be wearing the jacket or blouse at the time, so dexterous am I. I am beginning to understand the governments way of thinking because I think that matters. Shouting is OK, crying...go with it, release those emotions, do not release bodily fluids from anywhere but your eyes though and you'll be fine and also, if you can move an EMPTY cardboard box, you can practically restock the shelves at Sainsbury's single handed, couldn't you?
And, look, I an get places, I ran away even, didn't I? All the way to Plymouth, on my own without even worrying that I was going to crash. I took forever to get home though, what with all that forgetting to drive stuff. Did I even tell you about that? About how I was driving along the Embankment at tea time, which is rush hour of you work, tea time if you don't, because you may be ill, or depressed or just lazy and claiming benefits because it's so EASY to get money for nothing. So I was driving until quite out of the blue, I forgot how to drive and started to kangaroo and rev and stall and jump and WHAT THE HELL? But, BUT I was on the way HOME you see, so that wouldn't, in theory, stop me working, would it? As long as I could get there and get through the day, without forgetting how to control my bladder and retaining my ability to lift the carton containing a liquid, such as milk. It would be fine.
I've filled in the form and quite quickly too, I have included a copy of my impressive mental health testing, where I scored higher than the highest score because we must not be afraid of blowing our own mental health triumphs, or trumpets whatever the saying is.
It won't matter anyway because let's face it, I am still going to have to find my way to the latest office of choice where I will have to go in and speak to the very bored and probably semi retired doctor who is impartial ( my arse) and answer the questions about whether or not I can watch a TV programme and how many steps I can walk before I run out of breath and, if the past is anything to go by, the impartial doctor will write to the benefits agency and tell them that I am perfectly able to return to work because our government is excited to be helping people 'like me' back into the work force. People like me. They don't even know people like me. The very term is insulting. There are no other people like me. I am unique and no matter how far they look they are never going to find a whole group of people 'like me'
They will stop the incapacity benefit component of my benefits which, last time I looked, was about £30 a week and they'll add my number to some statistic and publish it saying that they have succeeded in increasing the number of people on benefits back to work. Which is a lie because I won't be back at work, I just won't be getting that benefit, until I go to tribunal and I sit in front of 4 people this time and I tell my story and they listen, instead of ticking yes or no answers on a set form. Then, if it goes the way it has every time before, they will overturn the decision of the Dr and they will tell me that I am not a liar and I am not a parasite on the taxpayers of this country and I am, indeed in capable of working. Then I will leave feeling relieved that I am not looked upon as a lower than low leech of British society but am an actual broken person who can't do every day things to support my family financially and I won't feel even a jot of satisfaction or pride. Just relief that it is over again, for now, until next time.
How much simpler would it be, for the government to write to my GP and ask her if she thinks I am capable of work, if she thinks that the unseen and unprovable sickness that is all in my head is genuine. How much kinder and easier and more effective would that be? Someone who is feigning depression would be so easily caught out if this were the way to check up on us all. Someone who is faking will not see their doctor when they cannot function another day without help. A scrounger wouldn't refill prescriptions, would they? I don't know, I can't fathom why anyone would do this if they didn't have to. When your mind works like mine it is easy to feel that this is secure, whatever money is coming in is regular and if you know how to live and budget you can do it, you know week by week what will be coming in and you do it. One week at a time.
If your mind works like mine you can't imagine ever doing anything better or bigger or braver because new things don't work out.
Brave is getting up and breathing and going through a whole day without making everyone else miserable. Brave is going out when you really just want to stay in, with the curtains shut and the phone switched off. Going out to work isn't brave, it's impossible to imagine and it's something to watch other people do with a sense of being amazed.
Usually, when I get the letters that tell me it's that time again, I start to think and worry, this time I feel like I can't even find the energy to do that. It is what it is, so what?
I don't have the sense of burning indignation or a feeling that I must show that I am not faking it. Meh, let them think what they will and do what they will and I'll just keep waking up and breathing and putting one foot in front of another.
H is away for a couple of days, I don't like it when he is away but I do like missing him. I like being reminded that he is as splendid as he is and seeing what he does every day that just is, all those things that we don't realise anyone is doing until they don't do them and I really love the feeling I get when he comes home.
I love H and I don't have to prove it.

I think I can.

2011-05-29T10:10:00.001Z

It's been a busy and exhausting week. I'm almost too tired to write it all and also quite wary.
I am known for being happy to spill the beans, tell all, share with the world and that's true, to a point because I am very selective about what I share and what I keep very close to my heart.
This week has had me spilling stuff even I had forgotten. I have seen doctors and mental health workers and back to the Dr.
The NHS gets hammered by many people but for me, it has never been anything but incredible. I have always had the best of care exactly when I needed it, so from me, you will never hear anything but the highest praise. When I think of my experiences in the States with their insurance system which seems nothing short of barbaric and elitist, for me, there is no comparison.
My GP came in on her day off, the day before she was due to fly away on a family holiday, she called me the night before and asked me to go and see her, I had been the day before to discuss being medicated to try and get me through this awful housing situation. She said she was worried having seen me so distressed that after I had left that she wondered what to do to help, so she came into work on her day off to talk to me and ask more questions and decide what she could do. I'm afraid that I shared too much with her, I like being in control and now I'm not but having me in charge hasn't got me anywhere, I think it's time to let go and let God and anyone else who can, help.
At the beginning of the week I went for mental health evaluation, what an experience that was. It was the beginning of the end it would seem, the questions seemed to stir up all the misery I have spent so many years hiding so well.
The impending homelessness has brought every nightmare and fear so close to the surface, I feel like a pressure cooker and every day was more and more unstable, tiny triggers in every day life were setting off that DVD player in my head that is on a loop, one word, one picture, even a smell will hit the play button and memories from so many years ago would start flashing in my head. Over and over again I could recall, see, smell, feel and hear whole terrifying happenings. Each one more distinct and raw than the last and each time I was less and lee able to prevent them from overwhelming me.
The good thing is, just as with a pressure cooker, when you release just small amounts of steam at a time, the pressure lowers and calm is restored. I was so afraid that letting go of any of this rage and sadness would mean that the whole lot would come spewing out and cause a complete breakdown. There are few occasions when I like to be wrong but this time, I will cheer at that fact.
I was wrong. Sort of.
I did pass my evaluation with honours. I scored higher than the class swot without even trying! A score grade of 0-20, with 20 being the most depressed, the most severe case...I scored 23! Go me!
Anxiety levels are scored from 0-15 , again with 15 being the most anxious you can be, unless you are me that is because I scored a 17 in that test. I am the valedictorian of mental men.sa. I take a bow.
I have been the topic of many a meeting among medical professionals this week and I have been seen, talked to, talked about, called and recalled. I am now on some pretty effective meds in the hope that they will hold me together while we live this bloody housing nightmare.
I seem to want to sleep all day and be awake all night, which is annoying but better than being awake night and day trying not to let the crazy take over.
This is humbling.
I am pretty sure I can say that never again will I look at 'those people' people who shut down, give in and make the people around them utterly miserable just by being in the same room and think " get over it"
I have always been quite proud of the fact that even though I have been depressed I have managed to keep calm and carry on, stiff upper lip and chin up, marvellous me.
Compared to this past month, my depression in the past has clearly been more of a 'bit sad' because this, this gaping pit of terror is a whole new level of nothingness.
There is no 'getting over it,' no such thing as 'pulling myself together,' forget ' grin and bare it', waking up and breathing has been an achievement. Not screaming has been a major non event.
I have done the only thing I can do, which has been nothing.
Stay in, stay quiet, sleep and don't rock the boat. I have been out to meet with Drs and do the things I couldn't not do. The most lovely of things has become apparent and it is the most surprising and fabulous thing. I have learned that I can do those things that have to be done if Sophie is with me. I can go short distances on my own if I can take the car and park right outside where I have to be, anything else needs Sophie there.

The long and short of it is this, my GP and the other Drs in the group have said that they will not sit back and let this situation continue, the stress and the fear of being homeless, the unknown future is what has triggered this breakdown. They are aware of the rats and the other issues this house has and the fact that even this is better than not having anywhere to go.
They are working together to try and get us housing, I have no idea if they will be able to make a difference, maybe the whole system is rigid and nothing will change how they decide who is at the top of the list, I am grateful that they are going to try.
I am worried that they are involving other parties, that my story is being shared with other groups of people that the Drs think will be able to help, I feel I have lost control over who knows what and there is nothing I can do but hope this is what we need, pray that it doesn't all get so out of control that it gets worse and not better. I can't judge at the moment what is good and what is terrifying, it all seems awful to me and so I am just having to let them make decisions for me.
I hate that.
I am so grateful that this is not all happening while I sit in a corner rocking, I am being consulted and everything is being explained to me, I just can't quite determine if it's a good thing or not, it's a leap of faith and trust that those people working for me are doing the best thing.
I said that I am praying, I'm actually not. I have prayed and I have prayed and I am sure the Lord knows what I need, I know He knows what I want and there are only so many times a person can ask for the same thing. I've handed it over to Him and am just going with the flow. The flow, is of course totally opposite of what my miracle would have been, if I had chosen the miracle it would have been a gentle stroll along a river bank, enjoying the view and the fresh air and suddenly, why look! Look at that cottage with the roses around the door, how beautiful! Oh and glory be! Our name is on the gate, it is our house! A miracle but not at all surprising to ME because I have FAITH and trust and I knew all along that MY prayers would be answered and it is not for me to question how we came upon such a perfect and idyllic home, it just is and I am grateful, come to me should you need a miracle because I know how to pray for just the right one!
Yes, that is how I would have chosen my miracle.
It would seem that my miracle is much more like walking along the raging waterside and slipping on the wet bank, falling into the rapids and screaming my way down miles of fast running waters, hitting every rock along the way with no idea if there is even a boathouse at the end for me to rest in ( if I don't drown)
My mum says this IS my miracle, that this will be better than the cottage with no reason. She says that this misery doesn't belong inside me anymore and the fact that ready or not, it is coming out, is miraculous. I'll take her word for it and believe her when she says that when we do get our home, I will be able to love it and enjoy it without any of these shadows lurking in my mind to spoil it.
I'd like that.
My H is proving to be everything I knew he could be, he never stops showing that I don't know all there is to know about him, he is a man of mystery and kindness and above all else, kindness is what I need more than anything else at the moment. He does keep calm and carry on, he is steady and patient and completely unruffled by this unravelling of his control freak of a wife. God did answer that prayer, that one where I asked for a man that was right for me, I don't regret letting Him choose for me, and it is reassuring that I can see He chose the total opposite of the kind of man I would have chosen for myself and did it so well.
I just have to keep holding on and trusting.
I think I can.

Heh, this was in the 'drafts' section....many a true word said in draft.

2011-05-28T22:13:00.000Z

It is, let me tell you, entirely possible to get on your own nerves.

Ah, yes, I remember it well.

2011-05-20T19:18:00.000Z

I can remember, way back when I was 15, experiencing my first taste of love. Not the mum and dad kind of love or the brother and sister kind of love, not that kind that was always available and taken for granted, no, I mean the real thing. The quivery bowel kind of love that is both awful and beautiful and by far, in it's newness the most exquisite kind of love.
As we get older we get cynical and wary, we meet people we think we can love and we hold back a bit and wait to see if this person will be kind to our heart, if they deserve our emotions and time. Not so when we first fling ourselves into REAL love. REAL love gets our all, it gets our heart and our mind, our every waking moment and our life long memory.
I didn't have clue about boys, I had a brother that annoyed me, poor David, all sisters and not an ally to be found. I look back now and am not surprised that he has nothing to do with us, that he warns his women about us and makes them afraid to meet us ( he has been with his partner now forever, probably 20 years, I think she quite likes us but we can't be sure because he won't come to visit if we are all en mass) I had a dad who was just dad, good old dad, kind and hard working and consistent, fiercely protective of our mum, only ever showing any signs of temper is we were brazen enough to say 'Shut up' or roll our eyes at our mum. I knew boys at school but good grief is they weren't stupid creatures. I spent more time with the boys at school than the girls because the girls were mean and I wasn't cool or popular and I was painfully shy and naive so the boys were friendly. the girls weren't, the boys weren't at all ones to make a girls heart skip a bit so I didn't understand them at all.
So when I was 15 and I suddenly got a stomach flip feeling when I saw this boy at church, I was a bit baffled, just for a moment and then I realised that this was *IT* you know, I was in LOVE.
Oh he was so grown up, 2 years older than me and he could drive, he even had a car, one of his own and I would watch from afar as he would walk into church with a huge grin and my stomach would flip and I would die a little inside because he didn't grin at me.
I can't remember ( and what a puzzle that is, you think I would have that memory imprinted on my heart for ever!) when that changed and when smiley man started to smile at me but he did and that smile was the best smile in the world. He sang, did smiley man. He sang and he played any instrument he put his mind to and he was good at it. I would listen to him sing and you know just what THAT did to my 15 year old heart. Oh please don't be still, my heart.
Somehow, we started to sing together, wherever and whenever we could, we would sing, mostly at church because they had a piano and no parents shouting at us to be quiet. Before church and after church and in the week when there wasn't church, we would sing and sometimes, smiley man would COME TO MY HOUSE! We formed a group, as you do, and there were 3 men and 2 girls and we practised a lot. I can remember those times when we would practise and sometimes he would touch my arm and life would be worth living.
One day, he came to the house and the others weren't there so ....oh sweet joy....he took me out in his car. ME! I know, me in his car and then, he kissed me. They say you remember your first kiss and I do.
My mum, when I got home was furious, she told him that he had let her down and she would not trust him again, she told me that I had let myself down ( ouch, painful!) and that from now on, that young man would not be allowed in her house. The rule was that dating was not allowed until I was 16, he knew that, I knew that and we had blown it. Oh the angst and the weeping that followed ( me, not him, he was all grown up and nearly 18, he was a man of the world) My life was ruined of course, he would never want anything to do with me every again HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL MUM? My whole life ruined, for ever.
Except, as is the way of an 18 year old and a newly turned 16 year old, forbidden fruits are the sweetest and anyway I WAS 16 now and so she couldn't STOP ME. Except there wasn't anything to stop because apart from those few weeks of heavenly hand holding, a few lovely kisses that made me start to understand all that formerly vile birds and bees stuff, we soon learned that we were the best friends there ever could be and there didn't seem much point in going any further than that.
I remember a youth conference we went to, where I swear he sang to me, I knew he wasn't singing to his girlfriend because she was right there, near him and he was facing ME as he sang " It's only words" by the Bee Gees. He was such a smoothy that smiley man. Also, he had great arms.

So, he had girlfriends and I had boyfriends and we would tell each other how that was working for us and we'd sing. Boyfriends and girlfriends came and went and we still sang and saw each other, sometimes we wouldn't see each other for weeks and it didn't matter, suddenly there he was again or I would call him and we'd see each other and it was fine.
I met the first love for real and he met girls who kept him busy and happy and when I was 20, the first one I really loved and I broke up and I was so sad. Really sad, for real.
Smiley man was there, right there and he would come to the house where I lived as a nanny and he would sing, play the piano and he'd stay with me until fell asleep. Sometimes I got the idea that maybe he would be happy if we were more than friends but it didn't happen and he was, for real the best friend I ever had.
We wrote a song, smiley man and I, he wrote the music and I wrote the pain filled words and we even recorded 'Why must it be' in a recording studio, like actual stars.
He met someone and fell in love and even told me it was my fault for not agreeing to be his girlfriend, he would come over and tell me about her, he sang a song he wrote for her. Then she started to mind that he was my friend, bloody cheek! She started to demand that he have nothing to do with me and life got tough. Eventually she won and stupid woman got him to stay away, they married and I lost contact with him for a while, though his mum would tell me snippets and say how she liked me best. I saw him at his sisters wedding and he hadn't known I was coming, so his reaction was delightfully spontaneous and he was as happy to see me as I was to see him. I was married to the first one by then, I think, the first one didn't mind at all that smiley man and I were so thrilled to see each other after so long but I hear smiley man's unsmiling wife was not happy and he paid the price later.
He didn't stay with his unsmiling and unkind wife and the first one left me and suddenly there he was again, in a shiny car, with flowers, with help from his mum who found out where I was and told him. It was lovely to see him but I was sad and it had been so long and I don't think I even had any joy in me to show him. We lost touch and I moved here, there and everywhere and I thought of him sometimes.
Facebook is great, isn't it? I found him a few weeks ago and he sent me the link to his blog, I gave him mine ( I'll show you mine if you show me yours, right?) and so we have been able to catch up a bit. He reads my blog and he leaves comments and yesterday he told me to write a book.
This is for you smiley man...you start singing again and I'll write a book and then I'll show you mine if you show me yours. How's that for a deal?

The best things.....

2011-05-14T21:28:00.001Z

There are some things that are priceless and that come along rarely in our lifetime.
When Sophie was 10 weeks old, the first one left. What a terrible time that was. It feels as though it was more than a lifetime ago and yet every detail is so vivid, so fresh, it may as well have happened yesterday.
My pregnancy with Sophie wasn't happy, the first one was clearly already distancing himself and by the time she was born he was already deep into an affair with the woman he used to leave.
When he left, the most desperate feeling I had was that Sophie would never believe that he loved her. I remember standing in the kitchen and telling him this, that no matter what happened in the future she would never be able to believe that she meant anything to him and knowing that made me hate him.
She was the most glorious of little girls, blond hair and blue eyes, her little round face always full of mischief and it was possible to see the naughty at work in her quick little mind. She was like a whirling dervish from the second she woke up until the minute she fell asleep, she was never an early sleeper and was always afraid that she would miss something if she slept.
From the youngest age she would talk about a daddy, she never called the first one daddy, she called him by his first name. He would say daddy and she would say ' You're not daddy, you're Kevin, just Kevin' and she would not be persuaded otherwise.
When she was 11 months old, she saw someone that I loved very much and as she looked at him her face lit up and she said "At's daddy" He didn't have children, she didn't have a daddy and in a world where sadness was dominant that was a happy moment.
There are few things I regret more than allowing that to happen, when it became obvious, when Sophie was 3 and a half, that he was never going to be her daddy, that he couldn't live with us I told him that he couldn't see her anymore. To this day she says that she had 2 dads walk away from her without a backward glance and she thinks that means she is as unlovable as it is possible to be.
What damage we can do to little people we don't think are understanding or feeling or thinking or needing.
Sophie used to talk about having a daddy and she had a list of things that he would do and she would say that when a man did those things it would mean he was her daddy. He would sleep at our house, he would eat dinner at our house, he would hold her hand when they were out and he would buy her juice.
The first one was a pig where Sophie was concerned, he was a complete and total idiot, a mean one. A selfish, thoughtless, mean pig. I have watched her as a 3 year old run after him as he held her big brothers by the hand and say " HEY! Do you know you got 3 kids? What about me? HEY! wait for ME!" and he ignored her. I stopped her going to stay with him when she was 2 because I learned that his bitch of a girlfriend who did not want female competition of any kind had hit Sophie across the face when she didn't want her to put her shoes on and she had been typically 2 and arched her back screaming " I DO IT!". The next time he came to get the kids, I took the boys to the car, where bitch was sitting and I pushed my face right into hers and said " My daughter will never come to your house again and if I hear that you have raised a hand to any one of my children ever again, I will give you a taste of your own medicine, don't test me on this lady because you are lucky I am not ripping your hateful face off right now." Then I looked at the first one and told him to make sure she knew that I don't make idle threats.
Sophie didn't go with him again until she was 7 or 8, when the boys were with him she and I would spend time on our own and we were happy with that.
Sophie was 10 when I met H, for 10 years it had been me and them and with the exception of those few times she had seen the man she called daddy, she had never seen me with any man. I didn't meet H and immediately pack up and take my children thousands of miles away to live with him but it certainly wasn't a long, drawn out process and I was sure to tell the children what was going on and include them in what was happening but they didn't meet H until the decisions were made and we moved, lock, stock and barrel. They seemed excited but looking back, what kid wouldn't be excited at such an adventure? I was 38 and I thought it was all a huge and marvellous plan, even I didn't have a clue what we were doing, if ever there was a leap or faith, that was it. So, we arrived on November 19th and married 10 days later.
The first night we arrived, I tucked Sophie into her new bed in her new room and as I kissed her I asked her if she thought she would like this new family we had made. She looked at me, this 10 year old child and said " I don't know. I know he isn't my daddy and I am going to see if he leaves like the other ones did. I'm not calling him daddy." And she didn't and she did everything she could to see if this man would leave, every hideous and brattish act she could come up with she threw at us. Every now and then she would completely turn and be annoyingly clingy to him, he must have felt as if he couldn't breathe but just as we would think she was coming around she'd turn that hard and unforgiving face at him and she'd give him the best she had, the best attempt at making him leave that is.
  I look at pictures of her now, as she was back then and I am completely stunned that this pretty, little, innocent looking scrap of a thing caused such unbelievable discontent, with such determination and fortitude. I can admire her now, now it's all over. 12 years on.
I remember one evening after a real doozy of a battle, 4 years after we married, H stood in the kitchen, held up his hands and said " I am done"  And he was, he did not speak to her, acknowledge her or do anything else for her for 2 years, he ignored her when she spoke, he walked past her without looking sideways. Howard is infinitely patient, he does not react, he responds, he will hear and will not reply until he is quite sure what he wants his reply to be. It is both admirable and beyond irritating. He will stay calm when other people have run screaming and he will keep being patient until he isn't and then, oh dear, you've blown it. He does not forgive easily once he has reached the point of no return, in fact I think, no I am sure that I am the only person that can cross him and still be loved.
In those years I could not leave the house if they were both in it, I would have to take her with me. If I went out and she was already out I would have to make sure I was back before she was, if they were alone in the house she would goad him and try every trick in the book to make him snap and 3 times he did snap. To his credit he never hit her, he would always restrain her, she was like an alley cat and she is impressive when she fights, it was still a terrible and frightening thing to see and heartbreaking to witness because I love both these people, I understood both sides but couldn't stand on either.
The last time I saw them fight was 4 years ago, she was teasing the boys, making them scream and cry, H told her that if she had time on her hands she could wash her dishes, the ones she had dirtied the night before and left in the kitchen, she looked at him and began her usual tirade " you do them, I'm not doing them just because you tell me too, if you don't want them sitting there fucking do them yourself...." She went on and on and on and then the red mist descended and all hell broke out, she walked away and he flew after her into the kitchen. Whenever this had happened before I would step in between them and then he would say I took her side and she would say I always side with him and then they would both be united in hating me, what fun.
So this time, I decided I wasn't going to storm in and end it, I would watch and see and then decide who deserved what and then I would hate them both for a change.
I saw her fighting and him restraining, he was behind her and was trying to get her through the back door and she was not going quietly, she was kicking and flinging her arms as wildly as she could, with him holding her arms as tightly to her side as he could while trying to carry her through the door. Then, somehow she bit him, she bit his hand so hard that the muscle popped through the wound...he let go and she stood in front of me as I then stood between them and she screamed that she was going to MAKE HIM LEAVE, she was going to get him sent home and make sure he didn't ever see his boys again, see if she didn't.
She left and long story short she called the doctor and showed him all the bruises she got fighting and banging her own legs against the door frame, she went to the police station and she went to see social services. I went to see her at work and I told her that if she was so afraid of coming home ( she told all the people she spoke to that she was afraid in her own home that he was so abusive that she was terrified of coming home most days) then perhaps she should not come home, that maybe it was time to find somewhere else to live where she could do all the things she chose to do that we were mean enough to stop her doing.
That was the beginning of her 19 months on the streets, living with people so evil and low that she became unrecognisable to me. I can't look at pictures of her from that time because she doesn't look like her at all. She had been taking drugs for a while and was so often drunk we didn't know what to do with her, she was lost and of course now, well now I can see what she needed. It is pretty much impossible though to love someone so hell bent on not being loved. I think only a saint could do that, I'm not a saint by the way.
3 years ago she came back, she asked to back a few times before that, she would turn up at the house, usually late at night and worse for wear,skinny and dirty and always hungry and she would ask if she could stay here, I would ask her if she was still doing all those things that we couldn't allow in this house and she would say yes and I would have to tell her that she couldn't stay here.
One night, at 1am she came home and she curled up in a ball on the floor and she cried and said that she couldn't live this way anymore and please could she come home. I asked her if she meant it and she said yes, I asked her if she would so whatever I asked her to do and she said yes. I told her she would have to see a doctor and get help and while she was in this house she would have to do what we asked her to do and live the way we expected her to live and she said she would.
We let her bring a mattress down and sleep in the dining room, under the table. She had to get up each morning and put the mattress away and she kept her clothes outside in the workshop. This was not her home yet, she could stay here and be safe as long as she did what we asked and she said yes.
A month later, when she had been doing as we asked, when she had seen a doctor and was clean and sober, we let her bring her clothes in and keep the mattress downstairs. 2 months after that when she was still drug free, was still coming home when we asked and was still kind to the boys and respectful to us, H told her that if she got a job and was willing to pay £50 towards her keep each week, she could live here, she could make the dining room into a bedroom and she could call this home.
She went out that day and got a job and she hasn't looked back. The day she started work, H went out and bought her a keyring and had a key cut for her.
We bought her a bed and a TV, she spent her first wage on pretty girlie things for her room and 3 years on she still loves her room. A few days after her room was finished, she came downstairs after a bath, in her pyjamas and she said " I don't think you can know how this feels, to have a bath, put my pyjamas on and be able to sit here without anybody leering at me, to know I can go into my own room whenever I like and be safe and sleep in a bed, all night" I am so happy she is here and she is safe and that she knows that the choice she made to be safe, to walk away from that dark and miserable life she had stumbled into. When she was little and she was so fiesty, so full of fight and independance so many people would tell me that I should somehow break that in her, stop her fighting over everything and demanding that she be in charge, she be in control and every time I would say that to do that, to break this spirit she had would be a mistake, I said over and over again that one day, she would need that fight, she would need to be exactly what she was, strong and able to turn against the tide of what every one else was doing and do what she had to do.
I was right, I like being right.
Not many people, so addicted to both the drugs and the life that comes with tha, are able to decide to stop, give up, walk away and do it. In one try, cold turkey. She did it, this strong willed, loud mouthed, in your face and what are you going to do about it? girl of mine. She did it and she hasn't looked back.
I heard, 2 years after she made that decision that one of her old dealers offered her cociane in a night club and she pinned him by his throat against a wall and told him that if he ever spoke to her again or came near her with his filth she would rip his face off. I think that was when I believed she would never go back to that old life of hers.
There began a very slow and completely incredible change, one so unbelievable that I am still a little wary of believing it.
Sophie is hopeless with money, as fast as she is paid she spends it, then she has 4 weeks to wait until she gets paid again and she asks and asks to borrow money and I say no because she will have to pay it back and then when she is paid it will all be gone again..etc etc etc and I began to see that she was still getting money from somewhere and discovered that H was lending it to her, when I wasn't looking.
A few months ago she said " I'm going to call H, Pops ( she did actually call him H, not his full name)   H is OK but it isn't very 'dad' like so I'll call him pops, which she did. 3 or 4 weeks ago she started to refer to him as dad but still not call him dad to his face. 2 weeks ago she said to me " I want to ask pops if he will adopt me and actually be my dad, do you think he would?" She is 22, how touching and beyond glorious is it that she wants him to actually adopt her and really be her dad? I told him what she had said and his reply was so typically H " Oh, that is so sweet, she still can't have my diet coke, also, I think I shall rename her Margaret." I think I have heard her call him dad when he isn't in the room, if she is calling him, I am sure that any day she will be able to say it to his face and he will love it, as he loves her. She got online the other day and saw that he hadn't logged out of Facebook, she wrote on his status " I never thought I would have a daughter but I have now and she is the best one I could have asked for" He saw it later and wrote "That was Sophie but I'll second that"
Be still my heart.
She has waited 22 years, he has waited 12, I didn't know I was waiting at all, until I saw what was happening.
The best things don't come easy they tell us, I'll second that. Oh but they are so worth waiting for.

Phew. that's a relief!

2011-05-07T18:40:00.000Z

I thought I ought to let you know, should you all be fretting about my mental health, that things are not as bad as they could be. I had to run to Asda to get a few bits and pieces and I did not go in my T shirt with dinner on it, I also put a bra and shoes on. The day I feel hopeless enough to go as I am, in slippers, no bra and dribbly T shirt you won't know about it because I shall have asked someone heartless to shoot me.
I'm plodding, which is good enough for now, I keep having moments of glorious hope filled excitement followed by the slumping of slumps, bringing to mind the twee song we sang in a Panto one year, " Look at the bright side, feeling good is the right way to go, so keep your chin up and brighten your soul, keep your eye upon the doughnut and not upon the hole!" Isn't that lovely?
I ate the doughnut and got stuck in the hole so bugger that for a game of soldiers.
Actually, I'm almost afraid to say in case I jinx it, I used to sing, all the time. Anywhere and everywhere I sang. In church and at weddings, in plays and in concerts, I sang and I was good at it ( though I say so myself, Blogs are not the place for humility, one ought to be able to blow your own trumpet and say it as it is on your own blog) So imagine my dismay when 5 years ago, right about the time my dad died, I lost the ability to sing. I would try and I could neither hear what was coming out from my mouth or control it. If I put my fingers in my ears I could hear but good grief, that noise was nothing to do with me, surely?
I tried not to worry and I would forget I couldn't sing anymore until I opened my mouth to sing along to some lovely tune or other and .....nothing, nothing but the odd completely out of tune warble. As time passed I became more and more sad about it and more and more puzzled because I have never heard of anyone who could sing becoming totally tone deaf before. Have you? What was happening to me. I mentioned it one day, after about a year, when I was sure I didn't have some painless throat malady or other and my doctor told me that it was almost certainly psychosomatic. I have spend so long not speaking about all the things that have made me so sad that my throat has quite literally shut itself down and now will not allow me to release even happy things.
How sad is that? It's terribly sad and also it makes me angry.
So here we are, 5 years on and I find that sometimes, I can sing. Oh it's such a splendid thing when it happens. The last 2 weeks I have even been able to sing in church which was, I'll be honest, the very worst place for me to try and sing, church has me all knotted up and dead inside, it is so dear to me, so important, so spiritual and EMOTIONAL that I find the only way I can get through it is to not listen, not think and wait until I can stand up and leave, breathing a sigh of relief that I managed another week of not letting go of all this emotion I have scrunched up and locked inside me.
I wonder, when this latest phase of twitch inducing stress if over, if I shall sit in a corner of my new home and stare at the lovely walls and rock for a week or 3. I can imagine I will blubber and stumble over my words and perhaps become a gardener and talk to my plants and tell them how crazy I used to be, back in the day and they won't believe me because I shall be so kind to them.
When you read or hear about depression it is so often described as being locked in a dark and miserable place and that's so true, except it isn't all of you that is locked in, only the inside. The outside can fool people and can appear completely normal and functioning and all the time you are smiling and telling people how fine you are, thank you. The inside is screaming " I'M NOT FINE! Can't you see? Why can't you SEE?" And you can watch other people being happy and having fun, all the time wondering how that feels. It gets old quite quickly.
So, the song is coming back and that is a very, very good thing indeed. I like to concentrate on the good things.
Singing and still wearing a bra when I go shopping, nothing to worry about here at all, Carry on.

Subtle, perhaps not.

2011-04-30T22:09:00.001Z

I love my friends, they are the kindest and most generous of all people and I never cease to be thrilled that we met, most of my friends are imaginary ones, ones that live behind a screen and some, I admit, I forget that I have never actually met. Sometimes I remind myself that I haven't met these people in person. I have met lots of my imaginary friends and when that has happened it has always been the most natural and easy of moments, as though we grew up together and of course this is who they are and of course we would feel this way.
I believe all the things my friends tell me, I absolutely do.
No matter how sad I may feel or how baffled I might feel at the wonderful things they tell me, I always believe them because they don't lie to me, neither do they say what they think I want to hear.
They are kind, funny, generous, honest, strong, clever, hard working, some work from home, some work outside the home, all are mothers, some from England, most from elsewhere in this big and sometimes scary world. They are all of these things but the one thing they are not, is subtle or underhand.
I wrote my last entry when I was ( can you believe this?) as low as I have ever been and I wrote exactly what I was feeling. I wrote it and briefly, I worried that I had written it and posted it. Then I let it go and didn't worry because actually, the thing that has yet to let me down when I feel as sorrowful and self pitying as I did on that day, is writing. I can write things I know I would never be able to say out loud to another human being.
I am what I am and I am who I am, I often wish to be different but this is it. I rather like who I am, I don't like much of what has happened very much but despite how I seem to be lacking in self esteem, I'm really not. I am aware of my strengths and talents and I hope I don't belittle those parts of myself that I can be proud of. I am completely self deprecating in many ways and I suspect that will always be. When I was 18 and ( now I look at pictures) quite beautiful, with naturally voluptuous boobs, little waist, long curly, shiny hair and beautiful eyes, I thought I was fat and the ugly duckling of the family. I rarely care that I was never considered a stunning beauty because from the age of 15 I have always had someone that loved me more than they loved other people, they may have come and gone but they were there and while they were there I was never in any doubt that they loved me and that I deserved it.
So, I wrote the blog and I posted it and then I got on with what I do best, which is getting on with it. I have been quieter than I usually am and I haven't, I don't think, been as funny and supportive as I can be, I am, most definitely, running on empty but I am running, albeit in a spluttery and stop-starty kind of way.
I re-read the last entry several times because I was pleased at just how well it described how I had been feeling and if I am honest, still feel. I don't think too much about comments these days because since I made this blog private I think people forget it is here, that makes it easier for me to write what I want to write, even if it makes it less fun or rewarding ( because I am, to be fair, a comments whore, tell me I am FABULOUS, in writing because then I can come back and re-read and feel fabulous all over again)
The fact that I do write is the very reason, I hope, that no-one need worry. When I spew the misery onto the page (or into the post as is the way in this world of technology) the worst of it stays here.
Today, I started to get email notifications that I had comments on my post, as well as that I got some texts and some lovely messages on Face book and I smiled because I knew that one of my imaginary friends had read the post and sent our mutual imaginary friends a message that I was sad. So although the methods of the incidental messages of love and support were varied, they were all clearly sincere and most welcome.
I am glad that I wrote, quite clearly that the feelings I had towards H were not usual. I adore him and I know that he loves me just as much, it's funny that other people tell me how much he loves me much more often than he ever does. He doesn't tell me very often but he shows me almost every day. I do not get flowers or chocolates but I get so much more. He is the perfect gentleman which in this day and age is almost impossible to find and I will always love that I have that in my husband. I often wish that he would pander to my insecurities and say all those lovely things a woman longs to hear but if I am honest I suspect that it would be my undoing should he ever do just that.
The other day, I went into our room and saw that he had taken his pillowcase off his pillow and hadn't replaced it. I had just ironed a whole pile and so I put a fresh one on and forgot all about it. Later that evening after he had gone to bed, I got a text, sent from his iPod that said " Thank you for my pillowcase, I sure do love you a whole lot" Now to most women that wouldn't mean very much but the fact that he rarely says ( or writes) those words it was heart stoppingly glorious to me. There is something to be said for not spouting those 3 little words 15 times a day. I know that he finds it difficult to say because in his life he has been told he is loved while being shown that he is of no importance at all, by the very people who should never have done anything to make him doubt he was loved. Life is very black and white to H, his experience of hearing ' I love you' is that people are liars, so when he hears those words, he doesn't feel joyous or in anyway fluffy. He feels wary and distrusting. I have learned to say things like " I love you, in the most sincere and truthful way" which makes him laugh, which in turn means he felt good when he heard them and as time has passed he is much more able to hear the words and enjoy them, in fact he often uses the fact that I have said them to reply with "And I, you." which is marvellous because he hasn't actually had to say them at all! If I call him on the phone he will often wait until I have said goodbye and then he will say, very quickly " love ya now" and hang up because ye gads let's not get into a discussion about it!
He is good for me and I for him. Even when I could punch him in the head, I am completely sure that he is right for me and I am also certain that I was made especially to love him and accept all his quirks and foibles and embrace almost every one of them.
I am so thankful for my friends and love that they are sufficiently caring enough to rally together and make me know that I am loved. Thank you one and all, not at all subtle but every one truly splendid.

Going back to where happy used to be.

2011-04-21T20:27:00.000Z

I went back today, way back, years and years back to where I recall being happy. I didn't plan on going there, I planned on running away because being here is too hard.
I am all out of fine. I can't even say it anymore "I'm fine, thank you" because I'm not.
I would settle for fine, I had no idea how positively fabulous fine was until I wasn't anymore. Fine I mean.
I was running away because staying would have meant the rage getting out and honestly, where does that get a person ? Sweaty and disliked usually, neither of which are things I enjoy being, so I ran away. It felt like such an adventure to begin with, a delicious and indulgent adventure, SOD THEM ALL! I put petrol in the car and I pointed the car East, or West, South or North even, who cares? I turned left but I don't know where I was to begin with so it didn't matter a jot, did it?
I left, telling H that I was going and I didn't know where or when I would be home and he sent me on my way with a punch to the back of the car, which was helpful.
I cried a bit as I drove the car away from where I was and that was OK, no-one could see so there was nobody to reassure, nobody to apologise to, nobody to care, crying was OK and I didn't seem to have a choice in the matter anyway so I just did it until I stopped.
I drove and I got on the motorway and it was quite a new experience because I discovered that I didn't seem to have packed my careful in the car as I ran away. I didn't care about being safe as I drove which meant that I could go as fast as I needed to and overtake and not worry, as I normally do about the what ifs, all those terrible mishaps that could and most probably would befall me if I wasn't overly careful, tyres that blow out if I were to go over the speed limit, slippery patches of road that I may not have been ready for, other drivers who never remember to pack their careful when they get behind the wheel of their cars, not like me, I never forget my careful.
I rather enjoyed the drive to where I used to be happy and I didn't even seem to have to plan the route, my misery knew where the happy was and it was so much further back than I imagined. I thought, on those odd occassions when I would allow my mind to drift back to real happy that I had last had it when I was quite grown up.
I thought that coming back to England had made me happy but it would seem that coming home made me relieved, which isn't a bad thing altogether, relieved is a good feeling and can often be mistaken for happy.
Perhaps I was happy when the littlest boys were born and indeed, when Elijah was born, my sweet Elijah with his enormous brown eyes and his his sweet and accepting nature brought with him a delicious feeling of completion, a knowledge that this child, this beautiful and much wanted child was my last. I had done it, had my babies and this one dotted the i's and crossed the t's. He sucked his thumb and he stared with those huge eyes and without saying a word he let me know that I was fine, just as I was. Just as he gave me all those things I had quietly longed for in a baby, I gave him everything he had wanted, which was a place in this family and to be adored for being just who he was. Completion is a splendid way to feel, almost as good as happy.
I knew I wasn't happy when Isaac was born, just 11 months after Seth, alone in that hospital room as I experienced my one and only birth with all that medical intervention can offer. An epidural to ensure there was no pain and pitocin to make my body do what bodies do when they need to push a baby out. Complications and near tragedy, followed by a lonely and abandoned 48 hours in a hospital thousands of miles away from everyone I knew and loved. No visitors, apart from a fleeting face behind the door who asked where the baby was, I answered the face, that belonged to my husband and told him the baby was in the nursery because he hadn't been breathing when he was born, so he told me that he and his family, consisiting of men, father, brother, oldest son, nephew would go to see the baby, in the nursery and the face left and didn't come back. Apparantly the baby was interesting and worthy of seeing. I'm not sure what I was. I am sure I wasn't happy, I was and am still sure of that.
Seth's birth was different. 9 months after our wedding which was 2 weeks after I arrived in the States it was all unbelievable really and surreal. He was perfection, this child, immediately different and extraordinary and there was such pride and satisfaction when he was born. It's a great feeling to be so proud of making an extraordinary person, one must never scoff at the good kind of pride, not the kind that comes before a fall of course, only the good kind.
I wasn't happy when I married H, I was terrified and on auto pilot, I somehow knew that this was the right thing to do, I am one for allowing fate to take a hand and the whole meeting of H was so incredible and unbelievable that when I am not feeling as I do right now, I can speak of it as though it was all miraculous and the hand of God was at work. That's when I'm not feeling like I do today but I do feel the way I feel today and so the story seems stupid and insane.
Who in their right mind ups and marries someone they don't know and don't actually like because it feels like the thing to do? Who on earth would leave their home and family to live with someone who is so eccentric that even after 12 years you still can't understand how they work or what they are thinking? Me. That's who. It usually feels like a good thing that I did, it is not usually a thing of regret. Usually.
Of course I hadn't had happy for years before I met H, I had abject misery, complete and utter terror, numbness, humiliation and acceptance but not happy.
I had not unhappy while I was married to the first one. A pleasant sort of 'this will do' feeling injected with some truly splendid moments of smugness as each glorious child was born. Whenever I doubt my worth in this world I am in, I can lift myself up by knowing without any doubt that I have made the most spectacular and perfect children. I don't care what other people think or say about my children, although if I am honest, people say fabulous things about them because they are, each one, spectacular and perfect.
The first one left, of course. Of course he would leave, he has told me often since then why he left and how inevitable it all was and he also told me, as often as he could to ensure the message sank in and stayed embedded that no-one would ever love me, he hadn't ever really loved me, he said and nobody would because when all is said and done, what is there to love?
I never know, to this day whether he is unbelievably astute in his predictions or if his constant hammering home of the fact has made me, in a prophetic and, for him, overly wise way, completely unlovable.
H respects me, I can't deny that and he is a gentleman. He does not mistreat me in any conscious way although his very nature and the cursed aspergers with all it's emotional baroness confirms what the first one told me so often. Soft words of emotion and tender moments of affection are not readily given by people with aspergers. Facts are what they do well, honesty comes in bucketfuls, loyalty and steadfast regularity are traits a wife of a man with aspergers can expect and enjoy. When the first one left I didn't believe that I would ever trust a man again and then there was H, someone so extraordinarily unable to pretend or flatter it was ridiculously easy to believe that when HE promised to be faithful, he would never, ever, for even a second, consider being anything but faithful. When someone with aspergers likes something, they like it for ever. They like it and they embrace it and that, as they say, is that. I like not worrying about whether he will stray or leave me because I have enough to worry about, it's nice to not have that added to the mix. Of course it would be magnificent to believe he stayed because he was so in love with me that no-one would ever come close, imagine someone feeling that way, about me. Imagine.
It's funny, isn't it, that a woman, of my age, with no physically pleasing attributes to speak of, stuck in this old, fat body can still long for some kind of romance. Ridiculous, some may say but I don't say that.
I find it sad to still long for just a little of that again. I know I am lucky to say 'again' which tells the fact that I was loved that way once and I was. That love would have made me happy if it had been mine to keep. The trouble was I didn't realise just how much I was loved and neither did he until we were grown up and knew what love wasn't and by then it was too late and promises were made to other people and lives were being lived and that's how it goes, sometimes.
Sometimes you have to do what is right even though it feels wrong and you let go of happy and hold onto dignity and righteousness and hope that one day that will be worth it. It is worth it. I have never, not once, regretted doing what's right and I hope I never do.
So I went further back and I skipped right past teenage years and all that angst because dear life, if that wasn't all so bloody exhausting and pointless. Does anyone enjoy being a teenager do you think? It's all so intense, so dramatic and woe is me and perfect and terrible and glorious.
Exhausting.
I went back to Seven.
Not intentionally of course, the car drove that way and before I knew it there I was, right back where I lived when I was seven.
Being seven, is, quite possibly the time when happy was. Of course, I know that not all children are happy when they are seven but I'm not all children and this, my blog, is all about me and I was happy when I was seven.
I went to the house where we lived, my mum, dad, sister, brother and I. I thought, when I realised where the car was taking me, that I would find the house for rent and that would have my answer, we would live there, in that house where I was happy and we'd all be happy but it wasn't. It was lived in and I have no idea if they are happy there or not and also, I don't care because my care appears to be broken.
I drove to the beach that back when I was 7 and my brother was 9 and my sister was 10, seemed like a long way away from the house. We walked there often, my brother and sister and I, on our own, whenever it was hot and sunny. We'd take a bag of sandwiches and a bottle of drink and enough money to buy a blue ice lolly each and we would stay there, all day, until it started to get cool and we'd walk home again, all on our own. I don't remember ever being told to be careful, I am sure we never had sun screen. I know we didn't have phones or instructions or set times to be home and we would almost always meet up with our friends, who were there, at the beach with the deep water and the dangerous cliffs and no parents. There were adults there, of course, I suspect that even back then, in the days of happy and lives without fear, there were parents who didn't let their kids go out all day on their own with the unspoken instruction to be home before the street lights came on. Perhaps they were parents that had known fear as children or knew, as I now know, that terror is around every corner and that bad things happen to good people and you can't ever be too careful.Those parents were few and far between though, way back when. Not like today when only uncaring and stupid parents would let their 7, 9 and 10 year old children walk to the beach alone and stay there for hours and gloriously carefree hours, day after day until they came home as brown as berries, blissfully tired and ravenously hungry.
If I miss happy it can be said that I miss safe more. I can remember and recall the feeling of safe without any effort at all. Sadness starts early, I suppose I first knew sadness when I was 14 or so and bullied at school and even as miserable as that was ( and it was miserable) when I walked in the door, when I went home I would feel safe and secure. No matter what went on outside those four walls, when I was within them, nothing could hurt me. Ever.
I am sad for grown ups that can't ever go back to find happy, those adults that can't, no matter how far back they go and how thoroughly they search, can't find a time when they were happy and safe. I am so sad for those people that it could consume me, if I wasn't so good at discarding and ignoring those things that would consume me.
As young as I was, and seven seems to be the age of all remembering, I knew that this was how I always wanted to feel. I knew that no matter how old I became, no matter where I lived or who I lived with, the one thing I would always need would be that feeling of walking in through the door and knowing that nothing could hurt me. I wanted my children to know that feeling and I know that despite being tossed from pillar to post, having to live in different houses, different countries and at times in other peoples' homes I have managed to always ensure that my children feel that way.
Well done me.
My whining and pitiful point today is that I have reached the point where I am no longer able to pretend anymore that I don't need that feeling too.
I am done.
All out of brave.
I have no more reserves of courage or strength. I ran out of pretend happy.
I used to run, back when I was young and filled with energy, I would run for miles across country and I would think as I ran. I would begin my run with excitement ( yes, ME. I know. Bloody hell) and I would know what course the run would follow, as I ran, as always happens, the nearer I would get to the end the harder the course would seem. Beginning with vigour and energy, as I neared the end of the course, which would take me through fields and up hills, across streams and down winding country lanes, I would start to slow, by the time I was almost at the end and I could see the road where I lived, my legs would buckle and I would stumble, I would feel my lungs about to burst with the exertion and without fail, the last few steps would be heavy, slow and always felt close to impossible.
For 11 1/2 years I have moved from one country to another and back again. I have lived in nice homes, OK homes, miserable homes, I have lived in places I would never have dreamed I could live, I have lost homes because we had no money to pay the rent. I have lived with relatives ( not mine) because they were kind and let us live there when we had nowhere else. My children have lived in tents in a back garden because there was no room in the house and that, that right there, right then, was where the real unhappy began. I was losing the ability to give my family the safe feeling, the secure feeling, the feeling of walking in a door and exhaling and with the disappearing happy came resentment and rage. That was when I began to be mistress of all pretence. That was when I learned to smile and say how fine I was, thank you.
I sent my sons back to England and I denied myself the ability to see them for 2 years because I couldn't give them what I had always promised myself I would give them. So I sent them where they would have that safety and a door and some walls and security and I told the world that I was fine, I told myself that I was fine and inside, the resentment and rage started to grow.
I knew we had to come home, to England, where we wouldn't have to live in tents or with relatives who were kind and relatives who were not kind, relatives by marriage who whispered and hissed how unwanted we were. Who waited until others wouldn't hear and would would follow me around this house that wasn't his, this house where he had returned because he was useless and pointless and not wanted, which wasn't his anymore than it was ours and he would ask me if I thought his dad wanted us there, if I thought he enjoyed falling over toys and babies who cried in the night. He whispered lies to me and to H and to his father and he caused as much misery and contention as he could manage and he added to my hidden rage. He stoked the fire of my fury and resentment until I believed that coming back to England, even if H couldn't come too, was preferable to staying there with his relentless whispering and following and hounding and I came home.
H did follow because miracles happen and even though everyone said it couldn't happen he made it. He got here and the dynamics changed, I was back in control and I wasn't about to let go of that any time soon. Or ever.
I vowed I would never, ever, be in a position again where my door and walls would be taken from me. I would have a home, no matter what it took and I would get my sons back and I would build a fortress that no-one would ever take from me again and I did it.
In 8 years we have had 6 homes. I have loved 2 of those homes and actually, in one of them, for 8 weeks I was happy. I didn't need to go back to seven to find a time when I was happy because I was truly happy for 8 weeks in the summer of 2007. Perhaps that blissful boost of happy was only ever meant as a top up to keep me going through the following years.
I am at the end of the run. I can almost see where I want to be, almost.
It is so close, the end of this long and exhausting run, that I can almost feel it and damn it all, my legs have buckled and I just can't muster that last snippet of energy to get to the end.
I can't, I just can't get to the front door and exhale.
In all my years of being depressed and afraid I have prided myself on not being one of 'those' miserable people, one of those staring at the wall depressives who can't carry on regardless. I have been able to do all that needs doing and on the outside appear together and in control, to say with conviction ''I'm fine, thank you."
Until today.
I can't speak today. I don't want to speak tomorrow. I have no desire to do anything that needs doing, I don't want to cook, or clean or get this house ready to hand back. I don't want to plan or imagine, I can't be bothered to try to explain to H how I feel because he won't get it anyway. He will say 'well just be happy then' or 'how is this helping?' he will look at me with that puzzled look on his face and then walk away or look away which is as wounding as a punch in the face. I can tell myself that he can't help it and I understand that but it doesn't make it easier to deal with.
I am, today, one of those people. I can absolutely see the attraction of allowing myself to close down, stop trying, give up, give in.
Perhaps tomorrow, I will find the strength, from who knows where, to drag myself back to that place where control means something, to return to the life of pulling myself together and stiff upper lip etc etc, who knows? Today it seems impossible and I am allowing myself to do what feels best for me.

Home is where the ......

2011-02-24T23:36:00.001Z

Since I was 15 and I had my own first home, a tiny, rented cottage in a small Cornish town, I have loved making my home wherever I happen to be.
I have had a room in a nurses home, shared a flat, lived in Army accommodation in Germany and various towns in England. I have rented council houses, grand converted barns, town houses and a stinking evil spirited hovel.
I have always been able to make wherever we are home, people like coming to my home, we love to have people come, so that works out well.
I love the house I am in now. I do, it's a lovely house it has enormous potential and often I sit and imagine what I would do if this were my home. I have become jaded and wary of spending money on rented houses because landlords ( and ladies) love to have tenants improve and make beautiful and then they sell or make you move. So I don't do that anymore, beyond doing what I can do that can come with us should we have to move. I will make curtains and buy rugs, find beautiful furniture in back street thrift stores. I will make and mend and rearrange, I love it, it makes me heart happy.
When I was growing up we moved a lot, it never seems to matter because my mum has always been able to make wherever she lives a place where people love to be.
I go to my mums house and more and more I want to live there.
I am so tired. I am bone weary of trying, of trying and trying and trying to make this home a place where I want to be.
It is warm and we feel safe.
It is big enough for all of us and the clutter that a family of 6 collects and makes precious.
The neighbourhood is OK, it is incredibly handy for schools, town, parks, everything we want and need. Jordan, Mel and Joshua live in the street down from us. It is ideal in so many ways.
It has been one long struggle after another since we have lived here, the hot water, the damp and the rats. Oh the rats that keep going on vacation until we sigh with relief and believe we have done it and sent them packing and then they come back, with their relatives and common new friends they picked up in Costa del filth.
We have been hearing them again for a few weeks, we have trapped and caught some, then the traps stayed empty and the pitter patter of worryingly loud feet running across the ceiling ceased. Exhale, relax.
The night before last I was woken every 40 minutes or so by the loudest crunching I have ever heard in my life, crunch, crunch, I would sit bolt upright and shine my ever handy torch in the direction of the wood crunching monster. Nothing. Zilch. Zero.
Nod off, CRUNCH, sit up, shine torch, hold breath, see nothing, lie down, drift off, CRUNCH, repeat, repeat, repeat.
Last evening I sat outside the bathroom reading a book while Eli had a bath, Crunch....SHUT THE HELL UP! Crunch.
Watching TV at 10pm I said to H " Listen..hear it? Can you HEAR IT? Listen, above my head in that corner....HEAR IT????" He smiled and said " Do you hear voices sometimes or is it just the crunching?" Git.
This morning, as I was getting dressed I threw my PJs into the corner by the door and then I froze because what in the name of all that's freaky is THAT? I'll have to post a picture because it needs to be seen to be believed....here, look....

That wasn't there last night, that is some bloody great MONSTER RAT trying to (this is the bit that gives me the eebie jeebies) GET OUT OF OUR BEDROOM! Which means, if you are a little slow on the uptake, it was trapped IN our room while we were sleeping.
Which naturally made me feel the need to discover where that thing was coming in and it didn't take long at all.
I leave my towel, my lovely oversized bath sheet, that I can wrap around my bigger every day body on the radiator, so that it is always warm and toasty when I need it. It is a HUGE towel, big and thick and not fluffy because FLUFFY TOWELS are a BAD BAD thing, I hate fluffy towels they don't dry properly but I digress, this huge towel drapes rather prettily onto the floor and I was drawn to it, I whipped that thing of the radiator and there it was, a big old hole, eaten from beneath, through the floorboards and the carpet and TADA rat access to my bedroom.

Right there, can you see it? Black hole. Revolting carpet and who cares? I would if it was my house but it isn't so it stays until the landlord thinks we deserve new carpet, which will be never. Wait, that means it stays until never, work that one out when you're bored, you're welcome, can we concentrate on the RATS please, forget about the ugly carpet, keep up please.
Let me tell you, H came back from town and I caught him by the hand and I took him upstairs and I said " Hear THIS voice....that's most definitely NOT my imagination" which pretty much showed him who's crazy.

*sigh*
So that's where we are. Here, with the rats.
I hate it and I won't lie, I had a panic attack of splendidly impressive proportions, cried into my T shirt ( for greatest effect it ought to be an apron but darned if I ever got 'round to wearing one) looked online at beautiful and unobtainable homes to rent ( 5 bed, 2 bath, no rats and a garden) imagined packing and went out for the day in the sunshine that appeared today.
There you have it.
We have shoved wire wool in the rat hole and H has set more traps, if I get woken up by a SNAP sound in the night I can't say for sure what I will do.

In hot water, and liking it.

2011-02-21T23:06:00.001Z

Oh, I didn't keep that little burst of blog activity going long, did I? Why is it so hard to come here and spill my thoughts? Facebook, that's what I blame, that little box that lets you type what you're thinking, releasing that need to share, instant satisfaction, no need to go anywhere and write complete sentences, that make sense and entertain. Oh but that isn't so. It's true that it temporarily satisfies that vain assumption that the world is waiting to hear what you have to say ( I say 'you' I mean 'me' naturally.) but what FB doesn't do, that a blog can is give you a reference, somewhere to come back and remember where you were and what you were doing last year, 2 years ago, even further in the past.
I love that about my blog, seeing how far we have come, or not. ( there I go with the 'we' it's ME, this is all about ME dammit.)
The trouble with using Face Book to vent all my woes in the odd sentence, is when I come here I can't remember if I ever mentioned something or not. So I tell myself I did and not point saying all *that* again and off I go to entertain myself on the social networking blog killer site once more.
We have hot water. Look at that, 4 words typed all quickly as if they don't mean anything when those words are HUGE! HUGE I tell you.
Last June our boiler was condemned, we have been without hot water upstairs for all that time. We have a small, weak and pathetic electric shower that we have used to 1/4 fill a bath for the boys, we then started to get enormous bills, £200 a month bills that I pay every month only to find that after 6 months we are £900 in debit, so the baths had to go, once a week the boys had a bath and the rest of the time it has been baby wipes or a sink full of water and a wash. That isn't a good thing with little boys, little treacle fingered boys with the magnetic grime thing going on. Little boys, when they reach 10 start to smell like big boys, so they smell and they are grime magnets, they ooze sticky and smelly substances from every pore.
I have been, I realise now it is over ( oh please let it be over, for actual real) that I have been jittery and sad, panicked and miserable because I am, it must be said, so vain about my children. I know they are beautiful and I like that, I like them being little gasp makers, being out and about and having people tell me how glorious they are. I don't like them being stinky or grimy, I hated feeling constantly as if I was losing the battle on keeping them above the line of pitiful.
Oh that bath last night was like a little piece of heaven for those boys, I sat outside and listened to them as they played and soaked and enjoyed that full bubble bath.
"Oh I missed this so much, I missed this happy feeling"
"we can have a bath all the time now can't we? We can bring our toys in and play in actual hot water"
I loved that this evening, a whole 24 hours later they stilled smelled so splendid, their nails were still clean, their hair was shiny and soft.
I am so grateful for this thing that in the past I have always taken for granted. Hot water out of a tap, just like magic.
The radiators are like mean heat machines, the old boiler must have been working overtime to give us that fragile warmth we used to have, now we can feel the heat from 3 feet away, all this while the setting is on economy, at the half way mark, like it's all "Meh, nothing to it, take the heat lady, I got so much more if you need it"
The plumber / gas man, who I feel I am related to in some way so long has he been coming here and not actually doing anything. All the visits to give estimates to a landlord that takes 8 months to decide on what work he is willing to pay for, he said he wants to come back in 6 months to see how our bills have changed because he is pretty sure that old boiler was costing us a bucketful of money. It was, I have been telling anyone that will listen that £200 a month is not normal, this is not how it should be, I am hoping beyond hope that we see a big difference.
I got mad last month, really mad. We got a letter saying that the rent on this house was being increased, after all that waiting, all the money we have paid to keep this house running without hot water and the landlord thought now was a good time to increased our rent, that was like the final slap in the face for me. I wrote to the estate agency to vent my ire.

"Kerry, we received the letter today about the rent increase for the property we are renting, the same property that has had no hot water since JUNE 2010, I am sure you appreciate that this is completely unreasonable with the water situation still not resolved. The sheer nerve that this man can expect us to pay MORE money for this house that the council has deemed sub standard is breath taking.
As well as the hot water problem ( or should I say the NO hot water problem) we still have dangerous electrics, sockets hanging off the walls, lights etc blowing, we turn one plug off in the hall and the one in the front room turns off. Water filling an ELECTRIC light fitting because the toilet leaks. All these problems have been reported EVERY single time there is a house inspection ( that laughingly is always accompanied by the letter saying this inspection is to note any problems we might need fixing!)
We have absolutely NO record of any safety inspection on the electrics ever being performed in this house, we certainly haven't had a safety inspection since we have lived here ( 3 years this month) I will expect immediate action to rectify this fact. I have 3 children who are living in a house that is not proven to be safe, this is unacceptable and also illegal.
I have to let you know that I will NOT be signing any forms or sending them to my bank until ALL these problems have been dealt with, properly, to our satisfaction. I am equally sure that you will understand my reasons for this. We have paid our rent, in full and on time, every single month since we have lived here. We have paid for repairs ourselves, we will no longer be making any repairs or spending any of our money on this house. We will be reporting and expecting FULL repairs in a timely manner, as stated in our contract.
I will be taking advice on what to do about this rent increase which is no more than a blatant attempt to retrieve the money the landlord has not yet even spent on the new boiler.
I am extremely disappointed that Bradleys seem to be so on the side of the Landlord and not at all concerned for the welfare of the tenants under their care. I appreciate that you are all exceptionally polite whenever I call and say all the right, placating things, this is no use to me whatsoever, I need action to rectify all faults.
I don't care if the man who is going to help the other man fit the boiler in on jury service, I don't care if the gas man has lost his assistant and doesn't know where to find him, I don't care how many estimate the landlord has asked for or how many phone calls anyone has made in the EIGHT months we have been without hot water upstairs.
Does NOBODY see this as completely unacceptable? If I withheld rent for even ONE month I am sure the landlord and Bradleys would be contacting me every day until they received the money, I am disgusted that this has been going on so long and over and over again we have exercised immense patience and understanding over every pathetic excuse not to get the work done.
I am not prepared to be patient anymore. I will be contacting anyone I think might help me get the work done that should have been done IMMEDIATELY the boiler was condemned, a week or two at most would have been acceptable but EIGHT MONTHS is beyond ridiculous, I can't even begin to find the words for my feelings about this, never mind the audacity of this man to expect us to pay MORE money.
Please don't reply with understanding words and polite excuses, I am completely out of patience and understanding, it doesn't heat the water I need to keep 3 little boys clean and warm, I need DATES and TIMES letting me know EXACTLY when this boiler is being replaced.
This whole situation is completely unacceptable and I intend to do everything in my power to rectify the injustice of it all, tenants cannot be placed in these appalling situations and continue to be expected to pay for the failings of both unscrupulous landlords and ineffective rental agencies.
I wait impatiently for your reply informing us of exactly when we can expect the boiler to be replaced, please feel free to forward this email to the landlord so that he is left in absolutely no doubt that his request for increased rent will be dealt with as speedily as our request for hot water.
Helen ."

She replied
Dear Mrs ,

Many thanks for your email.

I'm afraid I knew nothing about the intention to increase your rent but I will be speaking to the office that dealt with it later on today.

With regards to all your other outstanding issues I will sit down this afternoon and make all the necessary calls, I will then get back to you as soon as I can with some kind of timeline for the repairs.

I will also chase the electrician, I instructed him to attend in October of last and as I had heard nothing further assumed, obviously wrongly, that he had attended and carried out the works required.

I will do everything I can to get all your issues addressed as soon as possible and will keep in touch along the way.

Kind regards,

Kerry.

2 weeks passed and still no work was done, another letter arrived, worded exactly the same as the first but changing the date of the rent increase to March instead of February.
I wrote to them again....

"Dear Kerry, it is over 2 weeks since our last contact and other than 2 visits from Electricians to prepare estimates and a phone call from 'Cheerful Andy' the gas man, explaining how thoughtful he was being in waiting to replace our boiler ( so we won't be without heating as well as hot water) no work has been done, no progress made and another letter explaining the rent increase and asking that I complete the enclosed forms in time for the end of March has arrived.
I am disappointed, though not surprised, that this is the case and am writing to tell you that having taken much advise and speaking to several people from the council and citizens advise etc I see that we have very little in the way of action we can take.
There are a few options however and I feel it necessary to start proceedings in the few choices we have available.

I have been advised to contact you ( and therefore the Landlord, expecting that you forward all and any correspondence from me, to him, I will work on the assumption that you will do this) and give 14 days notice for all the necessary work to be completed.
This work includes the replacing of the hot water boiler, electrical safety check and ALL necessary electrical work needed to ensure the safety of the electrics in this house ( Address of falling down house deleted in case freaky freaks read it).
If the work is not completed in 14 working days ( Tuesday March 1st) I will then move forward with the following actions.
1. I will hand over the case to the council worker who has already been and inspected the house and deemed it sub standard.
2. I am, by law entitled to secure 3 estimates of my own choosing for the work necessary and then will be able to contract with the lowest bidding contractor to get the work completed and am legally entitled to use my rent to pay for the work done.
3. In my frustration with this whole situation I have thought long and hard about how appalling this is for tenants and how on the side of unscrupulous landlords and agencies who enable such poor care of tenants the law appears to be. I have reached the conclusion that morally I am obliged to work in any way open to me to try and change this balance in the favour of people who, in good faith, pay rent on time and in full and in return do not receive even the most basic of care or consideration.
I imagine that my first port of call will have to be the media, both local and national, I am sure that we are not the only tenants who find themselves in such impossible situations.
I have contacted local MPs to try and raise awareness of families such as mine who are trapped in impossible circumstances and look forward to hearing from them how they can change this unfortunately too common practise.
4. I am uncertain as to how aware the head office / general managers are of how ineffective their policies for the care of tenants are.
I have to wonder how much or how little they know of the grass root problems regular tenants such as ourselves are facing, left to live in sub standard properties being fobbed off with " oh this is on my to do list for today" and " I was just about to call you about this" How content their workers are to leave properties unsafe and unmaintained and yet still send letters of intent to increase rent.
I have no option but to contact Bradleys head office and make them aware of our case. Bradleys will also be named in any contact I choose to make with the media.
So, March 1st 2011 is the deadline for all work to be COMPLETED, not started or promised to start, if we do not have all work completed by this date I will have no choice but to use the options open to me, which are sadly few but hopefully will ensure that we will have hot water and safe electrics in this house, something the law states we are entitled to when paying rent.
I look forward to hearing from you with details of when we can expect work to be started (and completed) and feel more content knowing that one way or another we will soon see an end to this miserable situation we have been in since June 2010.
Yours faithfully Helen"

They got that email on Friday, on monday last week we got a phone call to say the boiler would be fitted this week, it is now done, 3 days without heating or water but oh my goodness, it is so wonderful to have heating and hot water and feel like regular people again.
I write me a mean letter. I am often very impressed with me, this was one of those times.

Other news in our family is the most wonderful news that Mel is expecting grand baby number 2, in June and it is a girl. Oh some PINK in our lives. I am trying so hard not to go completely over the top about it but I am failing. I am ridiculously excited about her and she already has a name, she is Lola-Mae and of course I keep seeing and buying teeny tiny things with Lola on, good old Charlie and Lola, children's TV show, there are all manner of sweet and girlie things with 'Lola' on them, I think I am buying them all. I have 18 weeks to buy the rest, I think I can do it.
I also want to make things, pretty frocks and pretty bedding, all pink of course, with ribbons and bows. This desire is made difficult by not having a table to put my sewing machine on, darn it all I could sit all day making lovely PINK things but how, pray tell, do I so that without a table? Always something, isn't there?

Twitching and other such nonsense.

2011-01-16T22:44:00.003Z

Well, so much for that! It's sod's law that if I write about how well something is going, pretty sure it quickly goes to hell in a hand basket and indeed it did. The very day after I wrote how well Sophie was doing and how well we were getting on, she blew up in a most spectacular way. It ended with a physical fight between her and Daniel which was horrifying, she fought, he restrained and it was a miserable and horrible time.
The good that came from it though is that I went with Sophie to the Dr and she laid it all on the line, told the Dr how miserable she was, how out of control and sad she felt and how she could tell she was doing things that were wrong but she felt as though she had no control over herself.
The Dr has referred her to a psychiatrist for a diagnosis, she did mention bi polar disorder which is what I have felt so sure is what she is suffering from. She has had her meds changed and has 2 weeks off work to allow those to kick in.
I am so hopeful that she can get help and eventually have some kind of stable and happy life. It is awful to see her going through what she does and it is completely exhausting and frustrating to have to pick up the pieces and patch everything over for her as she threatens to destroy herself. Hope is a marvellous thing and I cling to it.
I had my second therapy session this week and at the end of it she told me that I don't need her, that her services are to help people cope with the stresses of life and that I am coping, that I seem to have all the answers and there isn't anything she can help me with. That's very flattering but actually I didn't want her to help me cope, I wanted her to help me let go of how scared and sad I am all the time, I didn't feel sufficiently impressed with her to explain that and thought that if she felt she couldn't help me, the chances are, she can't.
I am trying ( again) to help myself, small steps in eating better. H bought me a power plate for Christmas and it is fantastic, it exercises muscles, increases blood flow and bone density. As well as working on slimming and toning it has been miraculous in getting rid of my restless leg syndrome, 5 minutes, lying with my calves on the vibrating plate and it shakes those twitched right out.
It is so funny to use, I was under the impression that somehow I would just stand on it, turn it on and it would tone and work my muscles....oh my goodness, you have to stand on it in a certain way and it HURTS! It truly feels as though you have exercised for an hour after just 2-3 minutes. It is invigorating though and I love that I feel I will continue to use it, rather than sit trying to make myself get up and do it and ....not.
Very touching story about how I found it and H bought it. I have been looking at and reading about power plates for a few months, trying to decide if it would work for me or if it would join the rowing machine under Sophie's bed. I have a friend who sometimes asks me to sell things for her on Ebay and we were having one of those chats, with me saying how I don't sell on Ebay anymore because it's not worth all the hassle by the time they take their fees etc. She told me she had one of those ' machine things that you stand on and it vibrates' and I half heard her but didn't really listen apart from saying I didn't think I could sell it for her.
A few days later, Sophie and I were out in the car and it was a light bulb moment, I got Sophie to call and ask what the machine was called and to ask if it was one of the old type machines with a belt thing on it. I was so excited when she said it was a power plate asked her how much she wanted for it and decided that I was going to buy it. I told H that I was going to buy it and asked him if he wanted to give me some cash towards it for Christmas. He jumped at the chance to not have to try and think up what to get for me and the plan was agreed on.
A few days later, on boxing day, I told him that I would give him the rest of the money to give to Launa when he got to church, we were staying home with coughs and colds, bless his heart he said " Actually, I went 'round there on Christmas Eve and paid for the whole thing for you. He also bought me a couple of little presents for Christmas. He done did good and I didn't have to slide into a fit of 'poor me misery' at all over the holidays. So I already loved it before it began to rid me of my twitching and painful restless legs.
I'd write more but my head is too heavy for my neck tonight, poor old neck, I wish there was a way to lay it on the power plate and shake it better but I'm afraid it would shake what brains I have left out of my ear and then, well then what?

I believe in Angels.

2011-01-06T22:42:00.005Z

Sometimes, I will realise that something is over and the feeling I have is overwhelming. In all the tough times in my life there seems to have been a pattern, realisation, panic, getting through it ( which involves not thinking but just doing, head down, deep breath and get on with it) quivering fear as I realise I have done whatever it is that needed doing, followed by a period of mentally hiding, trying to not think that it may be over. Then, when I see that it is really and truly over, that seems to be when I fall apart for a while, when I just collapse and shake and shut down for as long as it takes. I hate that bit, more than the part when I am actually living though whatever nightmare life has thrown at me.
Whatever has happened, I have only ever asked once that it not happen, that I won't have to deal with this awful thing and that was when I discovered when Sophie was using drugs, I remember that day praying hard and telling the Lord that I couldn't do this, I couldn't do it, please don't make me do it. Please.
The next day, Dan stepped in and he took her away and he saved her. For a few months, he kept her safe and he watched her, he gave her a job and somewhere to live and he gave me time to get ready. She left Bath after a few months and she came back down to Devon and she carried on right where she left off and she did it the way she does everything, she gave it her all.
She moved from filthy, terrifying place to hateful, dark place. She mixed with the lowest of the low and she was a skinny, dirty and she was hurtling towards hell. I would meet her and feed her and walk away.
She would come to the house and ask to stay and I would ask her if she was ready to do things differently and she would say no, she couldn't, she liked her 'friends' and they liked her and I should accept that she could choose her own life, so I would tell her that she couldn't stay with us because I had 3 little boys and when SHE was little, I protected her, I kept her away from people that could harm her and I had to give them the same childhood that I had given her. I told her that in this house we have rules that keep us all safe and well, that we have rules to enable everyone living here to feel secure when they walk in the door and while she was living her life this way, she couldn't be here and take that away from everyone else.
She would scream and cry and beg to stay here and I would say no, you can't, you are choosing not to. One night, as I drove her back to the house she was staying in, she cried and cried and when I pulled up in front of the house she begged again for me to take her home and then she said " All I want is for you to love me, all I want is for you to hug me like a normal mum would and you don't even do that, do you? You don't do ANYTHING for me!"
I held my breath for a minute and then I said " Sophie, for 19 years I have been the only person to do everything for you, I have fought for you, fed you, taught you and stood up for you. I spend every day and every night waiting for someone to come and tell me you are dead, I wonder every moment of every day where you are and who you are with, I try not to think about how you are feeding yourself and what you are doing while you are with these people you call friends, tell me how I can possibly allow myself to have ANY fluffy feelings towards you? Where, in amongst all that terror and worry can I possibly find some cosy huggy emotions? All I Can do right now, while you are choosing to live your life this way is to make sure you are fed and remind you that should you ever decide that this life you are living is not what you want anymore, you can come home" and then I sent her into the house she was staying in.
I went into town one day and as I walked past a pub, at 10.30 in the morning, a pub that has outside seating, I heard her call my name and as I heard her she flew out of this pub seating area. She was, as always, loud and over excited and she said "Come and say hello to my friends!" I walked over to the table she was sitting at and saw 3 other people, all of them either in their 40s or they had had such a miserable and tough existence they looked much older than they were. All 3 were heavily tattooed, necks and faces included, one woman with yellowed skin, 2 men with missing teeth and nicotine stained fingers and I looked at this child of mine, 19 and beautiful and then back at these other people and a miraculous thing happened .... I was told once that wherever I went, evil would feel my presence and would hide itself from me. That sounds like a strange thing for someone to say but often in my life I have had people say things like this to me and I always take notice and remember what they have said and this day, I watched as evil tried to hide from me. Each of those people that was with Sophie, as she told me their names ( all made up names of course, Maz and Biffer etc) each one of them tried to slither away, none of them would look at me and they all tried to make themselves shrink under the table. I said goodbye and I walked away with the hairs on my neck standing on end and my skin crawling. When I saw Sophie the next day I told her that these people were not her friends that they were bad people who wanted to drag her down as low as they were, that they wouldn't be happy until she was as miserable and low as them. She argued, of course and off she went again.
When Sophie came home, long after she had stopped taking drugs, when we were beginning to put the whole experience behind us, we were driving one day and she said " I'll tell you something really weird that happened when I was into drugs and stuff. Do you remember that day when I was at Weather*spoons and I introduced you to those people? You know how you said they weren't my friends and that they just wanted to make me as bad as them? Well you were wrong, they were dealers and I did used to get drugs and stuff from them, well, after you left, one of them ( and she said his name but I choose to forget it and also, he is now dead, of a drugs overdose of course, so there's always that) well, he looked at me and he said " Sophie, I don't know what happened right then but what the hell are you doing with us? Why are you doing any of this shit? Whatever your reason, I won't ever give you drugs again, not ever, don't even ask because I don't want you to do this crap anymore, don't be like us, stop doing it. I'm not ever giving you drugs again" and he didn't, not ever."
She has guardian angels and although they couldn't ever stop her using her free agency to do what she chose, she was kept as safe as she would allow herself to be.
She came to me, not long after that and she curled up on the floor, at 1 o'clock in the morning and she howled and said she couldn't live that way anymore and I knew she meant it.
Maybe one day I will write more about what happened next because it's worthy of note but not today because that's not what I came here for.
The next phase in my pattern of dealing with hideous life crapola is an exhausted and grateful exhalation. A long moment of ' Oh, it's done, I did it, it's actually and honestly over' and then I am consumed with such feelings of relief and I feel as though I can pick up my head and begin to look around me.
That's where I am right now, with my Sophie girl.
I cannot get enough of her, I love being with her, I can spend all day with her and not feel I need to pull my hair out at the roots. We do the most ordinary mundane things together and we enjoy it, I have no trouble hugging her or kissing her, she doesn't feel the need to talk incessantly to keep my attention, she isn't loud and annoying ( sometimes she is because that's who she is but now she is that way when the mood calls for it, not because she just wants TO BE NOTICED AND HEARD AND LOOK AT ME!) Today she came shopping and not fun shopping, grocery shopping and she was intrigued, she is very young in many ways and she still seems to be under the impression that if I want money, I can just click my fingers and it will appear, she is under the impression that the shopping fairies come and fill the cupboards and pantry and that no-one has to actually pay for any of it. I am driven to despair over this girl's inability to manage her money in any way, shape or form, every month she gets paid and no matter how much she gets paid, it is spent within 2 days, in fact if it lasts 2 days I am impressed. She doesn't buy anything that can be seen or appreciated, it just POOFS into thin air and alcohol, she might buy an item or two of clothing that will quickly tear or get lost. As soon as her money is gone she starts to ask to borrow money and the whole cycle begins again. I have managed to stop H lending her money because he would just lend it to her and lend he some more and when she was paid, she would pay him back, have even less to spend and here we go again. So now I am the only person that lends her money and I lend her very little and I make sure she pays it all back.
So, in my quest to help her see that if she wants her money to do more for her she has to be wise with it, I have started to let her see how I make mine work for me. Instead of telling her to mind her own business when she asks how much I have, I tell her and then I show her what I have to do with it and how it is possible to make it work for you.
She will ask for money and I will say I don't have any to give her and then she will see that I buy something and shriek " you said you never had any money!" and now I tell her " no, I said I didn't have any money to give you, this is how it works Sophie. I get x amount and I decide how much of that I can/will spend. I take that amount out of the bank and then I spend it, when THAT money has gone, I have no money to spare, I tell myself that and I tell you that and that is how I do it. The money left in the bank is for other things, I don't borrow money, I don't have loans to pay for things, if I want something and I don't have anough cash to pay for it, I don't have it. The way to have money waiting for those things you would like or need is to put money to one side when yuo have it and forget it is there, tell yourself that you don't have any money to waste or buy nonsense with. I never, ever pay full price for anything because no-one needs to." Today I took her with me while I did a big shop and by the end of the day she was SO EXCITED! We parked outside her friends house as we waited for the boys to come out of school and she was telling her friend's mum what we had been doing. Such a mundane thing to do and to see her so excited and I hope, watching the message sink in a bit was such a joy.
We went to 4 supermarkets ( which is what I always do) and we bought, in bulk, whatever we use regularly that was on sale, buy one, get one free and even some buy one get 2 free offers. I do this at least once a month and that means that we have enough food and supplies that we can always live on what we have without ever having to go out and buy things that we use a lot of at full price. At the checkouts I have her my purse and let her pay as I packed, at each shop she would say something like ' How much do you reckon this will be, I bet it has to be at LEAST £168' and then when it was half that amount she would get so excited and squeal about how much stuff we had bought and how it was 'OMG you so bought like £300 worth of stuff for half that amount!! Why would anyone ever shop any other way, right that's it, I'm gonna tell everyone I know they should do this because now you don't have to buy anything for WEEKS do you?" It was so good to show her that it is possible to keep hold of your money until you see how it can work in your favour.
I am not expecting any over night miracles, I am hoping that she just might want to try it for herself and rather than run out and spend her wages in 2 days she might make it last a week and then next time 2 weeks, it'll be a long old haul but it is so exciting to do things with her and for her to actually listen and believe me!
She is trying to lose weight, we're doing it together and she is listening to me, she has cut right down on her drinking, which I'm sure will make a huge difference and she'll lose weight quicker than I do. I can't tell you how wonderful it is for her to ask my advice and then take it.
I am positively wallowing in my 'it's over, for real and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I like it' moment.

and here begins...

2011-01-01T19:27:00.005Z

Another year.
I like new things, I like new ideas, new people, new chances, new ideas and I really really like new Years. I am thrilled with the feeling of a new page, a chance to start again and decide if and how I would like to do things differently. I embrace resolutions and couldn't care less if they only last a week or so. I think people who pooh pooh it all and say 'why make a resolution when it's sure to be broken?' I think trying something to better oneself is always a good thing, I love that feeling of positivity and determination, no matter how brief it may be.
I have all the usual resolutions in mind, to eat well, get fitter, try harder etc and I have some new ones.
I want to be more aware of people, remember their birthdays before their birthdays and remember to send a card. I want to put more care into the things I do and give to people, more thought, more time and more love. I Don't want to be so aware of how I am feeling all the time that I forget to notice how other people are feeling. It is a bizarre kind of selfishness to be so depressed, it isn't at all voluntary to be depressed and I'm not saying that anyone with depression chooses to feel this way but it is incredibly easy to be swallowed up by it, to be so consumed by misery that everything else becomes distant.
The run up to Christmas was a very difficult time for me, I was overwhelmed by sadness, anxiety and almost crippled by the desire to shut myself away and stare at a wall.
My mum always taught us, by the way she lived her life ( and still lives her life)that the surest way to feel better about yourself is to serve someone else. I decided that this was the only way I would be able to crawl out of this particularly miserable pit. I decided that I would stop thinking about what I didn't have, couldn't do, was unable to change and I would find things to change, find ways to lift other people, help others.
I started simply ( and I am only writing these things because this blog is now private and because there is a reason for saying what I did that is not, I hope, self congratulatory or ego boosting) by deciding not to buy or send Christmas cards but to give the money to someone I knew, who could use the money towards their Christmas, I did it and that person was so grateful and happy, I was glad I did it but I didn't feel any different.
I watched my extended family and I noticed where they were struggling and I did things to ease their struggles, which was lovely and well appreciated and still I didn't feel any different. I decided that while it is honourable to help our friends and family when they need it, it is, to me our responsibility, it isn't noble or something that takes us outside our comfortable lives, if we can help those people we love then we should and it should be absolutely natural and expected.
I knew then that I had to reach out and do something for a stranger, someone I didn't love or even know and this, for me is incredibly difficult. I don't find it easy to approach people I don't know, I didn't want to do something facelessly ( did I make that word up? Well done me, I like that word) I didn't want to hand over money to a charity, I wanted to see a real person and help them and I decided, with a pounding heart, that when I went to do my final, before Christmas shop, I was going to get into a queue behind someone that looked as though they needed help ( oh listen to me, lady bountiful!) and I was going to pay for their shopping. The very thought of how I was going to do that and actually open my mouth and say it was enough to make my palms sweat and my bowels turn to water but I was so determined, I even prayed that when I was in the shop I would know who to queue behind and help.
I went to leave the house and darn it if H didn't decide to come with me, he never comes shopping with me and I wondered if I would still be able to do it with him there. 15 minutes into the shopping with H experience I knew I wouldn't be able to do it, he is terrible to shop with and he tutted about the price of cabbage and said how he wasn't prepared to pay *that* for the bearded dragons and he wondered if we 'really' needed this and good heavens look at the price of that, we can do with *that* if it costs that much and I wondered how on earth I was going to explain paying for a total strangers Christmas shopping when he wouldn't put a 76p bag of cabbage into the trolley. So I didn't look for a family that might need my help and I unloaded our shopping while H packed it into free cardboard boxes ( 5p for a carrier bag? I think not!) and I paid for my shopping and I felt miserable. We walked towards the doors and as we reached them I grabbed H's arm and said " Can I meet you in the car, I need to do something" he looked at me and although puzzled ( I suspect he thought I was going to buy a lottery ticket as we were next to the stand) he walked out to the car. I opened my purse, pulled all the notes I had in there and I walked back to a young couple, they looked the same age as Mel and Jordan and they had a toddler and a very little baby, beautiful girls. I could tell that they had done their shopping and added up how much it was as they went along, they had one box of sweets and one bottle of wine, a few treats and then bread and milk etc. I also recognised the look on the girls face, it was that look that screams " please let me have enough, please let me have enough" Her husband was packing their shopping and so I sort of pushed past him ( assuming he was a miserable git who had been grumbling about how much the bloody cabbage was!) and I got very close to the girl and whispered at her ( deep breath)" Oh, this is embarrassing but ...look, um well, somebody did something very kind for me and asked nothing in return but that I do something kind for someone else and so I want to do something to repay that kindness, can I give you some money towards your Christmas shopping?" ( breathe in) which was sort of true because people do kind things for me often but no-one has ever told me to pay it forward. Anyway, that's what I said because it seemed a good thing to say and her eyes filled with tears, I grabbed her hand and I pushed the notes into her hand and said " all you have to do is have a lovely Christmas and find someone you can be kind to" and her eyes brimmed and my eyes brimmed and the cashier looked puzzled because I was whispering, her husband ( the girl's not the cashier's, I have no idea where the cashier's husband was to be honest ) was saying " What? What's happening, what? Whatshesay?" the young girl was saying "Oh..... OH!" and I left and walked as quickly as I could out of Tescos with tears blinding my way, hoping I could remember where I had parked the car.
I had my Christmas right there.
I felt happy.
I stopped caring whether people bought me anything for Christmas ( they did by the way ) and I didn't for that whole day or even the day after, feel at all as though I was being smothered by misery.
I want to do more of that, I don't mean handing money to complete strangers every day, I mean noticing what people need and doing something about it and not only for people I know. It might only be helping someone carry shopping, holding open a door, actually telling a young mother their baby is beautiful instead of thinking it and telling myself she wouldn't be interested in my opinion, I never minded once when someone told me my children are beautiful or funny or well behaved ( and that did happen once I recall)
I can't change many of the things about my own life but I can try to change some of them. One step at a time.
I couldn't quite enjoy the absolute great feeling of having made someone happy because I felt I had been sneaky in not doing it while H was there and eventually I told him what I did, I mumbled about how important it had felt to me to do it and that I didn't do it when he was there in case he said tried to stop me and then I told him and I cried again and said it was absolutely the right thing to do....and he grinned at me, patted my arm and said " Oh, that'll come right back to us anyway, well done"
I do misjudge him you know, I assume he will be a grumpy old meany and that I am here to show him how to be kind and generous and then he goes and says the right thing and THEN people come and tell me how he has given them stuff and paid for them to go somewhere and I know that he is a sneaky git because he never tells ME he's done that and I love him so.

I tell you what.....

2010-10-28T19:00:00.004Z

Oh I am so tired. Really, really tired.

I have often been tired in my life.

Working long shifts as a nurse tired, pregnant tired, young mother tired, young mother pregnant again tired ( ooh that's a good one that is) older mother having babies at the same time as parenting teenagers ( 4) tired ( I want to think of a great word to describe that one, 'shit' is the only word that springs to mind) THEN how about old ( 40+) mother of new baby at the same time as parenting teenagers and being pregnant AGAIN tired, huh? How about that one then? I defy you to beat that one, you won't. Not until you get to the old mother, who has young boys ( 3) and a 21 year old teenager still at home and is also a grandmother tired.

I am the winner.

The reason this tired wins over the other tireds ( yes, it is a word, I just wrote it, there is your proof) is because your body tell syou are tried in such undeniable ways.

It is, after a certain age, impossible to pick anything up off the floor without 'Oofing' darn that sock - 'oof ' Quick toddler is coming, move those little toys off the floor in case he eats them - ' oof '

It becomes increasingly difficult to get up from squishy sofas as you get older, the mind is willing but the knees just won't do it.

It takes longer to recover from bursts of impulsive activity, still keen to do such things the body will comply and the nearly 50 yr old mind will thrill as it realises that 'look at you! You are keeping up and doing all these fun things with all these whippersnappers! Why, you're naught but a spring chicken' oh it's lovely, then you get home and sit down and oh, oh dear me, things start to seize up. I am, it has to be said, a grand form of entertainment 'round about 8pm on a day when I have been busy and active. I get up and darn it if my heels don't like to touch the floor and my hips feel all out of place and I do an almost dance like walk along the hallway, accompanied by a veritable aria of " ooooh , oof, ow, oh my' s" I remember how we would laugh at my mum when we had knelt to say family prayers, when we said 'Amen' we would all sit quietly and wait for my mum to get up and then howl with laughter at the way her toes would stay curled up and she would hobble back to her chair 'ooing' all the way. I laugh on the other side of my face now because at least she was able to get up off the floor without crawling to a chair and hoisting herself. That'll teach me.

I was in the car today for an hour and a half while Mel and Jordan went to have a scan ( yes I am going to be a gramma again in June, HOORAH!) I had Isaac, Eli and Joshua with me and that is why, this evening, I feel my age and some.

What is it about 2 year olds that hurts so much, their shoes seem to find every tender part of a person's body, shins, toes, thighs. Those sharp little elbows dig in to old and tender bosoms as they help a little person crawl over your head to reach something intriguing. Little fingernails are so sharp as the pinch and scrape on the way past to exciting treasures. Shall we talk about the headbutting? "Sit on gramma's lap and look at this boo"....CRUNCH....'Sowwy Mam-mar!" Off he goes again.

2 year old people are so fascinated by everything "Mam-mar, dot new sarsses?" "Yes, I have got new glasses, no touchi....." POKE. " Sowwy Mam-mar" off he goes.

My mum has told me often that of all the people in the world to have lots of children, I am the least likely because I can't cope with noise. Noise, to me is painful. I love quiet. I crave quiet and as much as I like busy, as much as I adore people, sometimes the noise nearly kills me.

As well as my not dealing with noise well, the Lord ( because He has the most incredible sense of humour) gave me the loudest children, no, really they are VERY, VERY LOUD. The older they get, the louder they become. They all have BOOMING voices, voices that carry, even when they whisper ( which isn't often) I grudgingly believe they get that from me because many is the time I have had people say to me " I heard you in town the other day" Where most people will get " I *saw* you in town"
For the most part, I love having all my eggs in one basket, all my children in one place. I try to stand back and watch how they all interact and never am I disappointed. I especially love to watch Dan and Jordan with the little boys. They are totally different with Seth, Isaac and Eli than with any other child. Jordan is most definitely a father to Joshua, he is big brother to the boys. He lets go of the teacher, disciplinarian, consequences matter part of being older and he absolutely gives into his inner child with his brothers. I love the way both he and Daniel treat them so boisterously, my heart is in my mouth half the time as I watch these skinny little boys being picked up and thrown, tripped up, bundled and shoved in a testosterone fuelled melee of chaos and noise. I sometimes gasp at the seemingly careless way they 'play' with them and only manage to stop myself interfering when I realise that the overriding sound is one of undiluted belly laughing, are boys freaks or what? What can be fun about being flung all over the place and shoved across the room onto your face? I don't get it but I do get that they love it.
Dan said he was coming down this weekend, I wish he wouldn't say until he was on his way because Seth counts the minutes, he asks repeatedly when Dan is coming, what time, is he coming for real and now, now he has his own Ipod touch, one that can make calls ( Don't ask me, how can something that isn't a phone make phone calls? HOW?) and today I found him out in the porch calling Dan to make sure he is really coming, for real ...what time? We still don't know if he is coming, gah.....little boys being disappointed is horrible.
What am I trying to say here? I've been at this for HOURS, actual HOURS I tell you and yet, I tell you nothing. Zilch.
I'm tired though, I can tell you that.

Which would be quite cool, if it were so.

2010-10-22T14:07:00.004Z

So, here's the deal.
I think.
Well it's the deal for today, tomorrow? Who knows.
I went to my Dr yesterday, I have been putting that off for weeks, if not months, it is certainly a long time since I last went because, as I told her when she asked why I have not been to see her " Oh, well, because what can you do?"
Because what can she do? I suppose that she can possibly find some drugs to alleviate the symptoms of whatever ails me, the indigestion for instance. I say indigestion as though it is some mildly troublesome belching after a meal, when in fact it is a 24 hour horrendous pain that renders me incapable of doing much but complain. I drink gaviscon as if it is water and I chomp on tums as if I have an addiction. When I wake up I can feel my stomach is so full of acid I can only stumble downstairs huddled over with a vice like grip on my stomach. Many nights I wake up gasping as I breathe in only to inhale the acid that has travelled up my gullet...that is most probably almost amusing to witness as I shoot out of bed trying to catch my breath.
That was the main reason for going to see my Dr yesterday, it is ridiculous to try and pretend that this is perfectly OK to live with. I know, though it makes no difference, that this is my bodies reaction to 'eating my worries' in the destructive habit of eating myself calm I have, as well as made myself fatter than at any other time in my life, actually damaged the inside as well as the outside of my body. I have to stop.
She suggested increasing my anti depressants, which I refused because medicating me isn't any more helpful than eating myself calm, all it does is mask what I am avoiding. I wish I knew what I was avoiding, if We could discover that then maybe it would be easier to heal myself.
She suggested counselling again and although I admit that it was incredibly helpful last time I'm not convinced it can help me now.....my last councillor was great and I felt that she really knew me, could see who I really way inside and still listened to me, still showed me I was worth knowing, even though she knew what my darkest secrets were. Until I saw her outside, in the street, twice and she ignored me, she looked right at me, both times and then she turned away. I wasn't expecting her to hug me or shout Hallelujah to my name but she could have said "Hello" or even, you know, smiled. She didn't and in turning away, both times ( the first time I convinced myself that she hadn't seen me, the second time, I knew she had seen me and she had chosen not to acknowledge me) and so I never went to see her again. I told the Dr I was better and didn't need counselling anymore.
I just wrote that as if I was aware of what I did all along and for heavens sake, until I started writing this blog today I had absolutely NO IDEA that this is what I had felt or done. I knew that when she didn't acknowledge me I was cut to the quick, I knew that it mattered but I thought I had convinced myself that it was some kind of 'therapist' thing to keep relationships somehow professional and 'in the office' but really, how could a simple Hello have hurt? ( did she think that I would throw myself at her feet and tell her what was worrying me right then outside the Ivor Dewdney pasty shop? Perhaps she did, who knows.) All I know is that when she did that, when she looked at me and then looked away, twice, in my mind she proved the first one right when he told me that should anyone ever know the real me, they would walk away, they would never be able to stay anywhere near me because I am so rotten inside that it would be impossible to have anything to do with me when the real me shows it's ugly face.
If I were a psychiatrist I would tell me that my whole eating myself ugly thing is a defence mechanism, I would explain that by doing this, by eating until I cannot even look at myself in a mirror I am making myself inapproachable to start with. 'Look at me, ugly huh? don't even try to like me because I AM BAD! Turn away right now and save yourself ( And me) Some heartache '
I sat next to the first one at Jordan's wedding, I spoke to him and I found myself trying really hard to remember ever being close to him. I looked at his face with his squinty eyes and I tried to remember ever loving him. I marvelled at how calm I was on the outside, how sociable and polite, how easily I hugged him and spoke to him about our children ( mine, MY children) and how simply I deflected talking to him about Sophie when he asked, how I smiled and said how busy she is and how she never has her phone turned on and how it isn't anything personal that she doesn't call him. I did that because he is so stupid, he is not worth wasting good conversation on, he doesn't deserve explanations or any chance to right his wrongs. What I wanted to do was laugh in his stupid face and tell him she doesn't hate him she doesn't even think about him, she feels nothing but contempt and she calls him only when she wants something because that's all he's good for, maybe £20 when it's her birthday, the rest she gets from me...but it's OK, I won't ever let her see the real me in case she can't stand to be near me because what then? Then she'd have NOWHERE to turn would she?
Arsehalf, it'd take two of him to make an arse(w)hole. HALF! ( made myself cry through the tears then, I told Jenn and Julie the arsehalf thing when they were here and we laughed saying we would simply shout HALF at anyone that was getting on our nerves and no-one would ever know why we were saying it. I've let the cat out of the bag on that one, sorry about that, if I've ever yelled HALF at you, you probably deserved it and why are you reading my blog? Go away immediately.So, the chances are the whole burning acid in the stomach thing is my body eating away at itself, which really, wouldn't that be cool if it didn't hurt? How fabulous would it be if you hated yourself so much that your body ate itself away until you were a skinny little lovable thing?
Am I saying that if I were thin I would be more lovable? *gasp* yes, I think I am.
I am definitely saying that about only myself, me, Helen. I love myself much more when I am thin, I hate myself to the point of loathing when I am fat, I feel I am just as I deserve to be when I am fat. I'm not saying that's how it should be, just that it is how it is.
I am back at the point where enough is enough and I am ready to try again to be kind to myself. I have made myself physically ill this time and the older I get the more worrying that is.
Here's to liking myself again and being kind to myself, here we again.

To every thing there is a season....

2010-10-15T20:41:00.002Z

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

I've been a bit teary lately, with the premature ( in my mind) shrivelling of my womb, my splendid womb that has served me so well over the years, never causing much trouble at all until all my babies had been born, when it started to be a bit show offy every month instead of being politely disappointed in not having another embryo to grow and quietly discarding it's lining in an unobtrusive and unproblematic way it began to be ANGRY and twisted and be most impolite in it's natural expulsion of unwanted womb linings, making sure I KNEW it's displeasure at being let down again. My womb is very proud of the way it grasped hold of tiny little fertilised eggs and held onto them for longer than necessary, apart from Jordan all my children had to be forcefully evicted so happy was my womb to have them. I lost 2 babies and even that happened in the kindest way, if there is a kind way to lose a baby. I conceived immediately after both losses and so it was impossible to dwell on those babies that never were. If I ever got weepy about it I would then remind myself that had I had those babies, well I wouldn't have these babies and the tears stopped.
When I had Elijah I knew that he was my last baby, without any doubt I knew that there were no more spirit babies floating around longing for me to be their mother, I was done.
I have always been sure about that and as the years passed I became more and more shuddery at the very idea of having another baby of my own.
Until lately, really lately, like the last 3 or 4 months where I have found myself gazing at heavily pregnant women and feeling so achingly sad that I will never experience that again. I can hardly bear the thought that my body is closed for productive business. It is ageing at a terrifying rate, all of a sudden, it seems every time I look at myself in the mirror I see another sign that I am not young, that choices I took for granted are no longer there.
I see so many advantages to being older and I am embracing them, with great joy actually, all apart from this one, this irrefutable evidence that I can no longer choose to have babies.
I am so good at making babies, so very good, I don't care if it's blowing my own trumpet, I will hold my hands up to being incredibly vain about how beautiful my children are. They are and it's not just me that says it, they are lovely, lovely people.
When I knew I was making the choice to have no more babies I felt powerful and good about it and now, well now I am sad and feel a bit useless and old.
This very week I stared into the distance and thought about how sad this was that my littlest person is 7 and all teeth and lanky legs, no more lavender smelling little faces, just grimy knees and stinky breath.
I was wallowing, truth be told until yesterday when Jordan called and told me that Mel is having another baby...oh be still my heart! If being a gramma isn't better all round, none of the miserable bits and all the joy. When my front door crashes open and the tornado that is Joshua comes thundering in yelling "MAM-MAR! MAMMAR! Are you?" my heart skips a beat and we all quickly move anything breakable out of reach, like a natural instinct, he crashes in and laughs at himself, kisses everyone and pushes every button, flicks every switch, shuts every lid, swigs every drink and then yells "BYE! SEESOOON!" and then we all breathe a sigh of relief and thank heaven that there is a time when wombs stop making beautiful babies. I am too old for babies that live in my house, when I hear of the 5am wakings and the mornings they have Josh in bed with them and he fidgets and pokes them and hits them in the head with books until they give in when he gets downstairs and then promptly falls asleep on the sofa ....I appreciate that I won't be doing that again. I am ready for grand-babies, many of them I say.
There is, indeed a time for everything and for every thing there is a season.
It is my time to stop having babies and sit back while my children have them and let me love them and send them home. Oh the sending them home part if glorious because you know that it won't be long until the next visit.
Good old womb, you knew what was good for me before I did. Carry on with not carrying on. I'm ready.

Not sorry at all.

2010-10-09T21:11:00.005Z

I have been so hopeless with my blog and recently I have regretted that, it's so good to be able to look back and see how things were in the past, I love to see how we have changed and grown, learned from mistakes and see where I need to work and concentrate more. Not writing here means I can't do those things and that annoys me!

So here I am, with a jumbly old pile of stuff to say, who knows if I will make any sense at all...ooh I should say that I have only just discovered that some comments were in a hidey hole awaiting my approval! Who knew that was a new thing? I love comments and so finding them was a treat indeed, also love that blogger seems to be filtering out spam and putting that in a separate cesspit, thankyou blogger, I appreciate that.

So, we have been homeschooling Elijah for a while and I should probably update on that, he has made huge leaps in many ways, he is asking questions ( and what questions he is asking! "what does light mean?" and " is that what this tastes like?" Fun answering some of his queries I can tell you!)

We now know he CAN sit still and concentrate, what works for him is to work for 15 minutes and then he gets to run around and be a dog, or a lion for 10 minutes. We are slowly getting him to concentrate for longer periods but he definitely learns best when he is on the go, when we are out and about and ask him questions he thinks and answers sensibly, if we have him work out money and find things in the shops he can do it easily, if we try to get him to do the same thing, sitting down in a lesson environment, it's like pulling teeth and we're not sure who it hurts the most.

I can't tell if he really has special needs or if he is 'normal' he certainly isn't like my other children but at his age THEY all had special needs, I have never had a 7 year old that is average. I do see that he isn't a shining scholar and he doesn't grasp things easily. He is learning about safety and my goodness that is such a relief. When we go out, if he is the only child he stays close by, he doesn't run away, he thinks and for the most part we can trust him . If anyone else is with us, all bets are off and he reverts to being the a liability. Slowly does it is our motto.

H is doing the majority of the school work with him, he is patience personified and between teaching Eli and tutoring Seth and his friend Harry every evening, ready for the 11+ I think he is in his element. I need to make sure that Eli's lessons are recorded so we have something to show the woman of doom when she comes back to see how we are doing. I can see that for Eli, the relaxed and suited to him way of learning is spot on. I still worry about the future for him but am learning to take things more on a day to day basis, for now this is working, who knows what the future holds, I know that right now, the thought of sending him to school is unbearable, I can't bear to think of him trying to be friends with kids who don't want him near them, I shudder when I think of his little face still smiling when those kids told him to go away and turned their backs on him. I love that a couple of the children at school are thrilled to see him and he has been to play with Alfie, he doesn't miss school and I ask him sometimes if he would like to go back to school one day, he always says "No, I don't" for now, that is enough for me.

Isaac has just been away for 5 days with the school, he stayed with the school and we didn't get a phone call to say he was having a rough time. He was obsessed with his packing and almost drove himself into a frenzy with the checking and rechecking, on the morning of camp day he stayed in the car and wouldn't get out until I told him his friend Jamie A was ready and in the playground, he grabbed his bags and left, we didn't follow him and let him get on the bus etc with his friends.

The second night of camp I was sick with worry, I couldn't settle and I just wanted to go and get him. I have sent my children away on various camps and such and I always worry before they go, once they have left I am fine, I think of them and hope they are happy, this time I just hated it, I was fretful and driving myself crazy with all the ' I feel like this because he is miserable and they are jollying him along and not allowing him to come with us' I argued with myself and eventually made myself believe that he was fine, even if he was unhappy he wouldn't be damaged for life etc etc.

I went to collect him from school, waited by the bus and didn't see him get off, I walked around the bus and still didn't see him, then I saw him out of the corner of my eye, standing right next to the minibus. He saw me and immediately put up his hands in a very definite ' don't come near me' way and then he turned his back. He walked into the playground and I followed him to help with his bags, he still wouldn't look at me but eventually answered a couple of questions and whispered that he had won ' tidiest room' and 'Best boy' awards.

His teacher was near the bags and heard me ask Isaac if he had done body boarding ( he had been insistent that he would not try it, not do it, would not be swayed at all, body boarding was a NO) she said " Do it? Did he ever do body boarding, in fact we could hardly STOP him body boarding" she then went on to say he had indeed won award for the 'Best boy' and he had got that because he was so well behaved and listened well etc.

He was obviously tired and so I didn't ask too many questions, he came home and he ate and ate and ate some more. Then he got a blanket, wrapped his stinky, dirty self in it and he wouldn't move. Then he cried for a long time, how I hate that silent cry, it is so pitiful, so overwhelming and I always feel so helpless because he can't tell me why he is crying, just perfectly silent as tears stream down his face. I picked him up and put him on the sofa next to me and let him cry. He held my hand for 3 hours, if I went to let go he would grab my hand again and put it back on his leg or hold one of my fingers and he whispered over and over again " I missed you " he went on to tell me "I liked Wednesday because we watched 'up' and I liked doing the stuff but I didn't like sleeping there and I wanted to sleep with you and dad at the caravan but I didn't tell them. I was hungry" He has told me the food they have to eat and it is certainly sufficient and all the things kids like, Isaac has an incredibly mature taste in food, he will choose Lamb biryani over chicken nugget and chips, he will ask for Sea Bass or trout and ask to cook it himself. He loves nothing better than left overs for breakfast and has an ever increasing interest in where his food comes from and how it is cooked. It was hard for him to eat regular kid food for 5 days! He didn't get his 7pm dessert either " the had brownies and cake but they gave it to us RIGHT AFTER DINNER! ( the very idea!!) As time goes by he is telling us more of what he did, he is proud of himself for going and for trying all the activities, I think it was tough for him to deal with 5 days of total break in his routine, he didn't shower at all while he was away and nobody cares about that, he is intensely private and won't have a bath here if Sophie has a friend over, he is just starting to be more modest when I am around, a quandary for him because he hates to wash his own hair, the water on his face is tough for him, I am sure it won't be long before he decides that washing his own hair is preferable to having his mum see his bum!

Seth and Eli are not buddies, at all, they seem unable to be in the same room, car, building, town as each other without fighting, oh it's so tiring to pull them apart, let them at it, pull them apart, warn them it'll end in tears, warn them again, sigh and say " See? SEE? Did I tell you? You can't listen can you, it always has to end with someone crying and....."

Not a day goes by without both H and I saying " don't look at him, touch him, reply to him, ignore him, pretend he isn't there" many times. In vain. They are compelled to scrap, what can I do?

I'm getting old, what that has to do with anything is neither here nor there but good heavens I feel it lately, the weather has changed and I feel it in my bones, there's no denying it, so I won't. I am in fact embracing some parts of it, I like to think I am playing it a bit, I have noticed that my big children are becoming my carers, how bizarre! I see more and more that they treat me like a precious dimwit and I am somewhat ashamed to say that I let them! The boys especially are treating me as if I am sure to break or get lost ( which I do, let's face it, if you put me in a paper bag and shook it twice I'd get lost trying to find my way out. We followed the mini bus to Cornwall, 68 miles. We made our won way home 112 miles....every time the scenic route, for the love of petrol it gets old BUT and yes, there is a BUT....I always find my way in the end!) I bite my tongue when I am tempted to point out that they are only where they are and who they are because I looked after them and got them where they are.

When Jenn and Julie were here we were going out for the day and we were following Dan, Jordan, Mel and her mum in Dan's car. The plan was that we go to my mums house first and pick up the post box she had made for them, she made it to go on the table at the reception to collect the cards, anyway off we went and I followed Daniel and he went through traffic lights and they turned red before I got through. Dan noticed and he pulled over in a lay by and waited for me! When we got to mum's I asked him if he had actually done that because he didn't believe I could find the way to my MOTHER'S house on my own! Jordan laughed and said " patronising twat isn't he?" Yes, but a glorious one.

Sophie is changing, it is quite the most touching and breath holding thing for me to see, I am on the sidelines and waiting to see her fly...and she will, if prayers and hoping, willing and longing have anything to do with it she will.

On the day Jordan and Mel got married, Sophie was astounding, a new person and she excelled, she was sophisticated and thoughtful, she outdid herself in her duties as a bridesmaid and at 5 o'clock she asked me what time I was going home and said she wanted to come home with me, she said she was tired and poorly and she would just come home. That isn't Sophie AT ALL, she is a party girl and she will be first there, last to leave and the loudest one in the room.
When she came home with me as I dropped H and the boys home, she was quiet ( BELLS! Ringing of the alarm bells!) so she said " I won't ever have that" I knew immediately what she meant, I said before and I will probably say it again, Jordan and Mel's wedding was one of a kind, the emotion and the absolute rightness was tangible, it was moving to everyone there and I suspect many people wondered if they would ever have 'that'.
I let her be quiet for moment and then I saw the tears and she said again " I know I will never have that"
I told her that she could and she will, if she is willing to do what it takes to get 'that' Right now she is a party girl, she is over loud, she is in your face she is outrageous and she doesn't like herself enough to treat herself nicely, let alone expect anyone else to treat her well.
I told her that while she is doing what she is doing, she will keep getting what she is getting. I asked her who she thought would want to share a whole lifetime with someone who gets drunk several times a week, who flashes her body and makes lewd comments at every opportunity. I asked her if maybe men thought she was great fun..for the night but maybe when or if they thought of loving someone forever they would be looking for someone that offered more, someone who thought more of herself? I told her also that she should change what she is doing, that she should try new things, go to new places, let people see who she REALLY is, not who she wants them to think she is.
I encouraged her to try and let people see the person I had been watching that day. I promised her that if she did that, if she got to like herself more it would be easier for someone to love her more. Sometimes, when I speak to my children I can tell that they have heard me. I Am sure she heard me.
She has applied to do a college course from home, she will have to work as well as study ( which is great, less time for partying!) I will do anything I can to help her do it, she wants to work with children and she is great with other peoples' children, she drives me insane with the boys but I am impressed with her when she is looking after other peoples' kids! I can't see her as a nanny because she isn't patient enough, I can see her in a nursery where there are several adults and lots of not baby children, she has a rough time with babies and the whole ' can't say what the problem is' thing. I shall be crossing my fingers and toes for her. She needs for some real changes and to feel useful and worthy of good things.

Tomorrow I am going to start on getting better, I have felt so poorly for so long, so low and pathetic, I can't imagine feeling better, physically the way I have been treating my body has caught up with me, I have always been such a healthy fat person but I can't say that anymore, good grief if I don't ache now the weather has changed, really limpy ache, oof and ouch and bloody hell ache.
I can't do this anymore.
I was shopping yesterday and a man walked past and as he passed me he made a violent kind of gagging 'Ugh' sound. Now, common sense tells me that he wasn't making that noise because I am so hideous he was unable to hold it in but that's exactly what I thought as he did it, I immediately tried to smell myself to see if I was rank and festering and then I tried to hold my head up and get the shopping done as quickly as I could.
It would seem ( steady on, some information about to be imparted that might not be strictly necessary) that the menopause is here, for real, I would say out of the blue but it isn't, not really, I have been a raging hormone filled unpredictable blob for so long I can't remember when it all started, I blame the sweating and unbearable heat waves on my medicines but let's be frank ( oh if only I could be Frank, he never has to deal with this crap does he? No, indeed not.) every time I sit and flap a piece of folded paper in front of my face and huff and puff IKNOW the world can see I am a woman of a certain age, hells teeth I hate it. The fact that my periods ( Aunt Flo as it is so quaintly referred to in polite circles) have been every 28 days for as long as I have had them, after babies 28 days, after major surgery 28 days, come hell and high water, every 28 days there it is, how terribly convenient.
I have had late periods 10 times in my life, 8 pregnancies, 2 miscarriages and 2 late periods with no apparent reason, 4-5 days late.
I am now over 2 weeks late, good heavens. I have even taken 2 pregnancy tests which were negative and let me tell you, there wasn't even a threat of a tear of disappointment when I saw the absence of a second line.
So, it looks like the menopause it is then, for real, with it's delightful promises of aching limbs and brittle bones. Life's just a barrel of laughs isn't it?
I know that I am now fighting against the odds here now, if I don't help myself I am destined to a life of limping misery and I am not ready to give in to all that age threatens. I can't when I have these 3 boys here and still so reliant on us to take care of them.
I have always been quite proud of the fact that even though I am considerably overweight it never slowed me down and now it does, by the end of the day my legs and back are screaming for mercy. I can't help but imagine how happy my legs would be if they had 100lbs less to carry around. I suspect my legs might do the fandango and I would jolly well let them, in public if I ever were to able to achieve such a glorious feat.
I know I have to move more and eat less and I have to eat the right foods when I am eating.
How many times have I been here? Oh shut up, I know, but look, it's when I stop coming back here that I have to worry, when I give up entirely and stop losing the weight before I put it all back on.
I am very worried about how baggy I will be as I lose weight, my poor face, never mind the bits that no-one else sees. I might have to invest in some seriously elastic knickers and some extra long and stretchy socks and tuck everything in in a military operation every day, I shall start wearing polo neck jumpers to hide the droopy neck and face skin...oh dear, the very idea. I stand by my idea that eating cakes has kept the wrinkles at bay, every time I see an advert for 'plumping' face cream I tell the TV...EAT A CAKE! I shall rue the day I know it.
It's taken me 2 days to write this drivel, I'd apologise but I'm not sorry at all.

Not bragging, real gratitude.

2010-09-29T17:22:00.005Z

On saturday I watched Jordan marry Mel, we have been thinking about this wedding for over a year and Mel and Jordan have been planning and working and organising for all that time. I have watched them and been in awe at how hard they have worked, how they have scrimped and saved and planned and paid for all the things they wanted for their day. They have asked for nothing apart from a lift here or there to pick up or pay for something. I have loved the way they knew this was THEIR day and so quietly and consistantly they have done everything they wanted, they way they wanted.

As the day got closer I was thrilled to see that Jordan was as excited as Mel, not once did he roll his eyes or pretend to be interested in any of the details, he was genuinely excited for the day. He would call me and tell me about table decorations, he would come and visit to show me plans, he took me to see the rings as they were held in the jewellers. He was completely thrilled with every step, he would call and let me know what he had paid for and how he only owed 'X amount' for such and such.
Jenn and Julie arrived last week and one of the things they noticed was how Jordan was every bit as excited as Mel and how obvious it is that he adores her. They noticed how Jordan and Mel share the care of Joshua and how beloved he is by all. We were all impressed to see how stern and immovable Jordan was when 2 year old Joshua yelled "no! Go 'way!" at Mel. How he picked him up and said very firmly " you do not, EVER be rude to your mummy, not EVER...you say 'Sorry' right now!"

They day before the wedding we went to the venues to double check everything was ready and in place, we watched as Jordan's and Mel's eyes shone with excitement, we saw that they were both apprehensive about being the center of attention but neither had even a glimmer or nerves about being married. As young as they are, these two people understand what marriage is about.
I have often written about the love my children have for each other and how I wish I could share my family with friends that are far away. I have oft tried to describe how it feels to be among these people who, having all come from me, quite gloriously love being with each other. There is no greater joy for a mother than to see her children be friends, real friends, with no competition, no rivalry, just pure enjoyment and laughter.
I looked forward to the wedding but I had no idea, could not, even for a moment have imagined just how wonderful this day would be.
We sat and waited for Mel to arrive at the mansion and I watched Jordan who seemd a little nervous but not at all worryingly so, when the registrar announced that Mel was here and the music began I watched Jordan as he waited to see Mel and as she walked into the room and through the standing guests there wasn't a dry eye in the house when we watched him look, jump as though startled and then his whole face crumpled as he cried at the sight of his bride walk towards him, he was visibly emotional as the ceremony took place and it was clear to see just how much he loves Mel.
Jordan and Mel asked me to speak at the wedding, in the ceremony and so I did that, I loved that as I spoke Joshua was calling me and so I told him he could come up with me. He had been sitting with me throught the ceremony and was ( as all 2 year old boys are apt to be) loud, so I opened a packet of mints ( his favourite) and he crammed almost the whole pack in his mouth and then spat them out in my hand...we were a sticky, dribbly mess by the time I stood up to give my speech.
I am going to post here what I said in case ( and I'm sure this is the case) they were too nervous to hear what I said.
"
When Jordan and Mel asked me to give this speech I was very excited, there are 2 reason for my excitement, the first is that I am a show off, the second is that I have 5 sons and one daughter and a husband who is a man of very few words, I can give you an example of this by telling you that one day, when I said " can I talk to you about something please?" he replied with "Ohhhhhhhhhh ( groan) " quickly followed by "Oh...I did that outloud didn't I?"
So, 6 children who don't listen and a husband who is not one for idle chit chat... ask me if I want a captive audience and I will jump at the opportunity every time.
I was full of ideas of all the things I would say and planning how impressive I would be, those of you that know Jordan ( I am his mum by the way) and are impressed by his quick wit, sense of humour and his culinary skills? He gets that from me.
I was as confident as can be about giving this speech ... and then I took Jordan to pick up his suit, he came out to show me and that's when I knew that this might not be the best idea, I will try to get through this without any embarrassing show of maternal emotion but I can't promise I'll be able to do it.
The moment I saw Jordan in his suit and thought "Oh! My boy is getting MARRIED" and I felt that gulping lump in my throat I knew I was probably doomed to a day of weeping and thinking about how quickly he has grown and how sweet he was as a little boy ( It's what mothers do)
I thought about what I should say today and really, I just keep coming back to one thing.
I want to tell Jordan and Mel that I am proud of them. I love them and I am so happy that Jordan has found someone to love that I can love too. As a mother of many sons it is a worry that your son will meet a woman who won't like you. I am thrilled that either Mel likes me or she is the best actress ever.
I want to tell Jordan and Mel to be kind.
Of all the advice I can give, being kind is perhaps the most important of all. So often we are careful to be polite to strangers, we are keen to impress our friends, we do favours for neighbours and sometimes, we forget that the most important person to be kind to, to impress, to help, is the person we married.
It is said that no success can compensate for failure in the home, that's so true, we all need a place where we feel secure and happy and our home ought to be that place.
It doesn't really matter how rich you become or how wonderful other people think you are if the people you live with aren't happy.
Keep your words kind, even in jest unkind words can do more damage than physical pain.
I want to share a short story with you...
A woman one day said something that hurt her best friend. She regretted it immediately, and would have done anything to have taken the words back. But they were said, impulsively, in a moment of thoughtlessness, and as close as she and her friend were, she didn’t consider the effects of her words before hand.
In her effort to undo what she had done, she went to an older, wiser woman in the village. Explaining her situation, and asked for advice. The older woman listened patiently in an effort to determine just how sincere the younger woman was, how far she was willing to go to correct the situation.
The wise women said, “There are two things needed to do to make amends. The first of the two is extremely difficult. Tonight, take your best feather pillows, and open a small hole in each one. Then, before the sun rises, you must put a single feather on the doorstep of each house in town. When you are through, come back to me. If you’ve done the first thing completely, I’ll tell you the second.”
The young woman hurried home to prepare for her chore. All night long she laboured alone in the cold. She went from doorstep to doorstep, taking care not to overlook a single house. Her fingers were frozen, the wind was so sharp it caused her eyes to water, but she ran on, through the darkened streets, thankful there was something she could do to put things back the way they once were.
Just as the sun rose, she returned to the older woman. She was exhausted, but relieved that her efforts would be rewarded. “My pillows are empty. I placed a feather on the doorstep of each home.”
Now, said the wise woman, “Go back and refill your pillows. Then everything will be as it was before.”
The young woman was stunned. “You know that’s impossible! The wind blew away each feather as fast as I placed them on the doorsteps! You didn’t say I had to get them back! If this is the second requirement, then things will never be the same.”
“That’s true”, said the older woman, “Never forget. Each of your words is like a feather in the wind. Once spoken, no amount of effort, regardless how heartfelt or sincere, can ever return them to your mouth. Choose your words well, and guard them most of all in the presence of those you love.”

So be kind, keep laughing.
Remember that Joshua will learn everything he needs in life from you, he will learn what kind of man to be from you Jordan and he will learn how he can expect to be treated from you Mel, everything he sees and hears he will take in and remember.
I have been so impressed as I have watched you both together, I am proud of how Jordan has learned to run and support a home, by how hard he works, by the way he puts his family first. I am impressed by how patient Mel is, how tolerant she is, how gentle and kind she is to Jordan and Joshua. I know, that as a mother, I probably only see what you want me to see but the fact that you and Joshua are a happy family shows me and everyone else that knows you that you already know how to love each other.
I heard a story once about a couple who had been married for 75 years, they had a party to celebrate and the local newspaper sent a reporter. The reporter spoke to the wife and she asked what the secret was to staying married for such a long time.
The old lady looked her in the eye and replied " well, when we first got married I decided that I would let him have 5 really annoying habits. If I started to get annoyed by him I would look at him, take a deep breath and say to myself 'that's one of his 5, let it go, he can have that one' and it was easy, I could stop being mad at him and life was good"
The reporter was impressed by such a simple act and couldn't help but ask " What were the 5 annoying habits?"
The old lady smiled and replied " oh, there now, that's the secret, I never did decide what the 5 things should be, every time he annoyed me I just told myself that that WAS one of the 5 and I let it go"
Don't make a list.
Decide today that you will always be married, that you will have a party when you have been married 75 years.
If you both have the same goals, the same dreams and the same determination that your marriage will be a happy one, it will be. Don't allow anything from outside your home to come between you, of course there will be difficult times, there will be problems and stresses that at times will seem insurmountable, the secret is, with each other, there is nothing that you can't overcome. Nothing that you can't be or do together. Jordan don’t ever wonder, or ask yourself if Mel is making you happy enough if she is doing everything she can to make you happy...ask yourself every day if you are doing enough to make her happy, Mel do the same, happiness is found not by looking for it but by giving it away. Cast your bread upon the waters and it’ll come back buttered.
Remember that you have family that love you both and will always be here to help.
Thankyou for asking me to speak today, I am so proud of you both. What a beautiful day this is, may you always remember how you feel today, when you have your 75th anniversay party I hope you can tell some young reporter how easy it was to stay married for so long! Much love to you both today and for always, I love you xxx"

After the ceremony Jenn took the pictures and it took a long time, there was plenty of time to watch my children together and enjoy seeing how they all did everything they could to make this a beautiful day for their brother. Sophie was exceptional, she was beautiful and kind and she stepped up as bridesmaid, before the wedding she really did her job well, she helped Mel have a Hen party and organised the girls for that evening and on the wedding day she was attentive and ready to help, she was impeccably behaved and when I commented on how beautifully she was behaving, with none of the usual over loud laughing, no outrageous comments or acts, she simply said " it isn't my day, this is all about Mel and Jordan"
I have never before seen the Sophie we saw on Saturday and I was never so proud of her.
Daniel was equally intent on making sure things went smoothly. Even the little boys sat for pictures ( briefly) H was, as always quietly doing his bit, Joshua was as every 2 year old boy would be, bored easily and eager to explore, everyone was busy doing what they felt they should do and so it fell to me to try and keep him busy, I was asked to go and get someone for photos and as I went to do that I saw H, like the pied piper waking across the large gardens with a line of little boys following him, he kept them running and busy, engaged and out of trouble for the whole time the pictures were being taken. Oh and what pictures there are. Jenn was exceptional, she was authoritative and in control, knowing exactly what she wanted for these two beautiful people to look back on from their day. She was not swayed by people thinking they knew what she should be doing, she was not bulldozed off her planned list of photo opportunities, she took her pictures and then stood back and guests took their own, she had researched and decided where to take what pictures and the glimpses I have had of the photos, before any editing, they are breath taking. She was there for Jordan and Mel and no matter who asked her to change what she had planned for them( and people did indeed ask her if she would 'just ' take this picture or that picture, not realising how professional she is and how she was there to please Jordan and Mel, not other guests) I am so excited to see the pictures when she has finished her work, she is a true professional and has a great eye for what will work.
I was so grateful as I watched the day progress to see and be reminded just how great my family is, how dignified and gentle my mum is, how thoughtful and considerate my siblings, how kind and gentle and obedient my nephews and nieces and their children are. When the day was almost over Jenn made a comment that surprised me, she said " English children are so great, they are refined" I asked her what she meant and she said " well look, there has been no bloodshed! No fighting, no screaming, all these kids just playing and dancing, no fighting, no squabbling and look at that little boy bringing Joshua's camera back to him" I am amazed at how we take for granted these little people, all related to each other who are so used to all being together and so used to having so many adults raising them, we all know that if we are all together, if we see behaviour that isn't acceptable then any one of the adults may correct of admonish and all these children listen and do as they are told.How we just accept that our family loves the other members of our family.
Right throught out the day I watched and took note as Julie quietly stayed on the fringe of all that was happening, resplendant in her wedding hat ( she looks so great in hats!) she sat and watched, joined in without any fuss, took charge of little boys that had wandered away from the main event, let Isaac play with her iPod ( "til the batteries run out, I can play til the battery runs out!") she let Eli circle her and bark as he played at being a dog ( again!) what a friend she is, not demanding attention or time in anyway, just being there and doing what she saw needed doing without a word.
The speeches were fabulous, Mel's dad was sweet and nervous, he said all a father should say, we all saw how proud of his daughter he is, even if he found public speaking difficult he still stood up and he shared how he loves his daughter.
Daniel spoke next and he was funny, outrageous and loving, as he spoke about how he admires and loves his younger brother and how well he thinks Mel and Jordan are suited, he started to cry and in embarrassment he said " Oh F**k it!" Immediately he clasped his hands over his mouth, looked right at my mum and said " SORRY GRAMMA!" we didn't realise that we all, on the top table did exactly the same thing! The picture Jenn took is priceless, a row of people, all clasping their hands over their mouth because the unpardonable sin of swearing in front of Gramma Euinton had been committed! How wonderful that no matter how old these children get, whatever they do or say they hold gramma in such high esteem that she is the first person they think of when they behave inappropriately whenever she is around. Later on in the evening as we children, our children and their children were all sitting around one big table, one ofthe girls said " Isn't it funny to think that if it weren't for gramma, none of us would even be here"
Jorda

n gave his speech and again, as he started to say how much he loved Mel and how happy he was that she was now
a member of our family, how excited he is that she now belongs with us, he started

to cry and he couldn't carry on for a moment. The love that exists in our family is tangible, I try to explain how it is but I am sure I will never be able to find the right words. I love that Jenn and Julie experienced it and that they too were moved to tears to see it in it's full glory.
I looked around as Jordan gave his speech and I saw his dad wipe his eyes and then his grandad on his father's side was also crying and I love that I have grown sons who are not afraid or ashamed ( although they were embarrassed) to cry because they are so grateful for what they have and because they recognise that they have something more valuable than money.
I stayed for a while in the evening and soaked up the fun, watched as Jordan danced with Mel, I watched as Jordan walked past his cousin and heard Ben shout "Hey, cousin!" "Yeah?" " I love you!" grown men not afraid to express love, priceless.
I've tried to explain how the day went but I think, probably, that you had to be there to understand exactly what I am trying to say. My family is great and it is MINE....doesn't get better than that and now, well now, I have another daughter in my family and she is a really, really nice one too!

It's my party...well technically it isn't...

2010-09-17T20:22:00.003Z

What an emotional time this is, the wedding is so close, 8 days! I have had so little to do with the planning of it, Jordan and Mel have done everything, they have just plodded and worked and got it done. A few rides here and some baby sitting there.
It's all done bar the shouting, wait, that wasn't the best cliche to slip in there, in fact I am astounded by the lack of shouting considering what a stressful time this is supposed to be.
There has been some shouting in this house lately, from me anyway, my goodness the shouting, it has been awful, in my head is where most of the shouting has been, so FURIOUS I have been, about everything. Absolutely everything. I have been so miserable about what to wear, have bought this and that and some more of them on line which is STUPID, don't do it, you can't see what the material is like ( that is PINK! It didn't LOOK pink in the picture!) you can't try it on ( What? Why does this not fit? WHY? It is my size, it should fit, I am obviously even fatter than I thought and WOE IS ME !) I have spent more 'saving' money than if I had just gone to a posh shop for fat people and bought a blasted suit. I gave up on the online pursuit of clothes that will make me feel beautiful and look as though I have some taste.
I went shopping, well I tried to go shopping, set off bright and early drove a few miles to the nearest town with some hope of having something suitable for me to wear. It's not too far away but the traffic is always awful so it is a pain in the bum to go there. I got there, parked, went to put my parking chip in my purse.....only to discover my purse was still at home. By the time I got home there wasn't time to set off again before it was my shift with the Eli home schooling boy.
The next day I tried again and I saw lots of clothes LOTS, rails and rails of them, in my size even, in animal prints. Leopard prints and tiger prints , also there were lots of things with stripes HORIZONTAL stripes, in my size ( which I will never divulge unless some miracle occurs and I wake up 10 sizes smaller and then I will be ALL OVER that ' oh me? Why yes I lost weight I used to be a size ENORMOUS and now, tiny, am skinny, thin, skinny) and then there was the clingy stuff, the pretty coloured, plain material that was CLINGY, clinging to every lump, bump and roll. Posture is everything and let me tell you this, the more clothes a big women tries on, the more she slumps and collapses and eventually she will scream "SOD IT ALL I JUST WONT GO!" Except I have to go. I really have to go and actually, I know that when I DO go I will be so happy to be there and see my boy get married to a girl I adore.
I knew that I was feeling the way I was because I was sad, I was worried and I hated thinking that I would have to spend the day feeling as if I wanted to crawl under a stone.
Yesterday I grabbed Sophie, I told H I wouldn't be home and I took her with me to find something, I usually hate anyone coming with me because I don't want anyone to see what size I am picking up ( Hello? Why? Will they look and think " yikes, she is FAT!" because really, that's pretty obvious anyway isn't it?) so I go alone and sometimes I find something and then I see it costs more than £5 and I put it back because who on earth would spend money on clothes that aren't going to help any?
So, off we went and bless her heart, she isn't usually known for saying the right thing but she opened that mouth of hers and said exactly the right thing, she said " Mum, I wish you had some idea of how pretty you are, because you really are and I hate you always putting yourself down"
Wouldn't you know it, we walked into a shop and I found several things I liked, non of them leopard print or stripey, I took some in the changing rooms and I came out with a pretty top, one that would go with a skirt I found 2 weeks ago that I love. Then we found jewellery, a scarf and more jewellery, bangles and rings and things that all go with the outfit. It took us an hour to find everything I need and it is SO nice and SO comfortable. I love jewellery and usually the costume stuff doesn't fit and this time I found pretty things and SOPHIE got a ring stuck on her finger! Oh joy.
I am not wearing a hat or a fascinator or whatever those things are called, Even if I didn't look stupid I would feel it and this day is too important for me to feel self conscious.
Sophie and I went next to Boots the chemist and we sat while 2 ladies did our skin and make up...that is another huge thing for me, allowing someone to touch my skin and stare at me! ( this whole autism thing, I wonder if anyone ever looks at my kids and thinks 'autism my arse, look at the neurotic mother!') She made me look pretty darn OK, she used a pore concealer ( hooray! Hate those mahoosive holes on my face) and then she used some anti red concealer, some foundation and some shiny shimmery crap followed by some 'coral' stuff which was to something or other something that needed something....what I am saying is she pushed her luck there a bit. I was all for the pore stuff and the get rid of that red ( what IS that?) stuff and then it all got a bit 'how many layers of stuff can a face take?' I got some eyeliner and some mascara and I felt very good, it was nice make up and it wasn't heavy or cloggy, I liked it. So I picked up the pore concealer and the anti red stuff and she told me the price and WHOA...she told me the prices of the other stuff she used and I couldn't do it. I did buy the 2 items that made a difference and I shook for 2 hours because I had spent that much on 2 little boxes of make up just for me. I don't regret it at all because thank goodness, I now am looking forward to getting dressed, putting my make up on, a hair dresser is coming at 8am to do my hair, I love how she does my hair and when she has done it, it stays that way for a couple of days so I know I will last all day without turning into a hay stack. I am ready and for that, I am incredibly grateful.
I actually feel as though I will be looking quite splendid. Bring it on.
The cards are written and the bottle is full.
Julie Bo and Jenn arrive early on wednesday morning and I am so excited about that I hardly know what to do. I can't wait for them to be here and to show them around, eat in little country pubs, shop in London, share the wedding with them, share my family with them and have a whole week laughing and crying and just being together. What lovely friends I have. Friends who have never met Jordan love him and have sent him and Mel love and presents. Friends who love me so much that they are as excited as I am that Julie and Jenn are coming. Cathy was planning on coming too and then she couldn't, even so she is excited for us and making sure I know she wishes she could be here too.
I get quite teary every time I think of Julie and Jenn coming all this way to see us. I smiled so widely the other day because I was telling H excited I was to spoil them and then later that day I got an email from Julie saying she was excited to get here and spoil me! That's what friendship is all about, how wonderful it is to have such people in my life.
It's not my party and anyway I'm not even crying.

I did it!

2010-09-17T12:26:00.003Z

I stopped counting after £450 because well, HOORAY! and I want them to tell ME how much there is.

Who knew?

2010-09-08T21:26:00.002Z

So, we have started the home schooling journey we never knew we wanted to take.
I think this whole thing was H's idea, I don't recall him ever saying " I think we should home school" I know I never said it, I just know that one day, we had said it and written to the school to tell them that Elijah would not be returning to school and here we are. Oh. My. Goodness.
I'm not sure how H and I work, I know we don't have cosy chats or long brow beating sessions of decision making. I often think we have little in common but actually, more and more we seem to think the same things and make it all happen without either of us ever saying " This is how it will be"
Is that a good thing? I think it must be because it works for us ( that's a relief)
So, here we are. H, me and a little dog called Eli. Or a big dog, sometimes a Gorilla.
We find ourselves saying ( more often than we would like) "Dogs are not allowed in here" before entering a shop, or church or stately mansion. He has been a Labrador / retriever for a week, then a great dane. He crawls on all fours everywhere, he pants and sniffs ( not bums, we are thankful for small mercies) he digs and would love to eat his food from a bowl on the floor. When we saw him cocking his leg over the toilet ( at least it wasn't against a lamp post!) I started to think things had gone a bit far. H wasn't on the same page and actually let him buy a dog bed at a car boot sale with his pocket money. He desperately wanted to sleep in it but that was where I put my foot down!
I am bored with the whole dog thing now, I am biting my tongue though because hey, it's imaginative and we don't see that too often in this house. I cringe every time he does something good and I say " Good BOY!" I am afraid I will pat him on the head or throw him a morsel of food from my plate without thinking!
Anyhoo, homeschooling.
I was, until Tuesday, very apprehensive about keeping Elijah at home. I was so afraid we were doing him a disservice. I was worried that this wasn't the right thing to do.
On Monday, we started to teach him. Last year, in school, Eli was unrecognisable, our bouncy, loud, eccentric boy was withdrawn, puzzled, confused. He would sit and suck his thumb ALL day at school, he was running after kids that were mean to him because he thought they were his friends. He wasn't speaking to any teachers and he wasn't learning anything.
In the 6 weeks school holidays Eli came back, he was bouncy and happy, he stopped throwing things and yelling he began to play ( and be a DOG!) He stopped being sad.
Just that one thing, a 7 year old who stopped being sad...that one thing is enough to make me see that this is the right thing.
On Tuesday we had a visit from someone, I'm not even sure who she is, I thought she was from a homeschooling / education department, I know that she had to come because she had been informed that we had withdrawn Eli from school and she said it wasn't a worrying visit it was just to chat and see what we had planned ( plans? PLANS? We have PLANS?) and ask what we saw were Eli's strengths and weaknesses.
Within minutes of her arriving at the house ( Eli, this is Ms Nosey Parker, she has come to see Eli the boy, not the dog, can you sit up and talk like a real boy please? "WOOF!") it was evident that she wasn't here to support us in anyway.
I heard H's angry tongue click noise that he makes when he is trying to control a rage. I listened as she told us how OUR children especially need to be at school because they need to socialise, they need to learn that other people have opinions and they have to learn ( more than other children apparently) how to get on with other people and work as a team.
I pointed out that our children are different to other children, they pick up the WRONG things easily, they will do whatever other kids tell them to do because they think THAT is what makes them popular. She told us over and over again how, if we take them all out of school, when they are 16 they won't get a job, they won't know who to live in the real world or function. I told her that we have older children, we KNOW what works for our children, we have made good choices and we will make the decisions for these younger children based on what WE know is good for them.
You only have to walk through the town at 4.30 pm to see what these senior school kids are not learning at school. The girls look as though they have come from a nightclub or street corner, the boys and girls are loud, rude, uncouth. They throw litter, they swear, the have no manners that are evident.
H asked her if she thought every child that attends a state school will leave, at 16 with all of life's most valuable lessons AND walk into a great job. No answer.
I asked her if she thought we were doing this for fun? I told her that we have adult children as well as the little ones and we knew what they needed just as we know what these boys need.
We have the advantage of seeing where we went wrong with the big kids and are determined not to make those same mistakes.
There is little to no discipline in schools these days, the teachers are not allowed to do anything but talk. It is clear that most of their time is spent trying to contain the unruly kids and keep things under control, little time is left to teach.
I have seen how kids change when they start senior school, it seems they have to become hard faced and disrespectful just to keep from getting bullied. I am not going to send my sons into that environment.
Children with aspergers are perfect targets for bullying. They do not read social signals, they don't understand when someone is teasing, they are naive and will keep trying to be friends with people who are not friendly. I have seen Eli run after kids after they have told him to go away, I watched as he shrugged his shoulders, smiled and ran right after them sure in his mind that they really wanted him to play. I don't know if Eli has any kind of autism, I do know he is delightful and touching and I want him to stay that way.
It is not a schools job to teach my children how to be polite, kind, respectful, well mannered. It is not a schools job to guide my sons into adulthood, helping them to learn the skills needed to function and prosper in this world.
It is a schools job to teach my children academics, to help them learn to read, write, study, to explain mathematics, science, history. Unfortunately, because all the powers of discipline have been taken away from teachers, they don't get to teach the things they should be teaching.
I am afraid that we may not be able to teach him everything he could learn in a good school with enough attention from a patient and able teacher. I am not afraid that we have taken him away from such an environment.
My children are not rowdy, they are not hyperactive, they are not disruptive or unruly, they do not cause problems for teachers or other children. They can sit in a classroom without making a sound, for hours and hours. They do not want to be noticed.
A classroom with 30 children and one teacher and an untrained assistant, with children who do have ADHD, or ADD, children who love to be the center of attention, who shout and disrupt, who are apt to hit out or damage property. Who do you think is going to get the attention first? Of course my quiet children who would rather be forgotten than noticed will be left to sit and suck their thumb or draw pictures of cars, they will be allowed to sit and watch what is going on because 2 adults with 30+ children physically cannot do anything else.
I am not venting at the teachers, I understand why things are the way they are. What I am doing is standing up for my children. Elijah especially because he was already suffering, he had fallen so far behind that it wasn't even an option to leave him where he was.
I am thrilled at the difference in him already. H and I, as we do, have fallen, without speaking about it, into a routine that ensures Eli is busy, engaged and learning from the moment the older boys are at school until they come home.
When H takes Seth and Isaac to school, Eli and I read and then we talk about what we have read, we discuss the story, he reads and I explain and then I read to him and watch his eyes grow wide as he enjoys the story. He then draws a picture of his favourite part of the story.
When H gets home he takes over and Eli and H do some Math work and penmanship.
At 11 Eli and I go out together, either shopping ( where he works out what we need, how many potatoes, how many bread rolls etc) we went to have lunch in the restaurant where Jordan is a chef and he was allowed into the kitchen to make his own pizza. Today we went to a mansion and he tool pictures, he had a clip board with questions on that he had to answer, he had to ask workers for the answers to some of the questions. He drew pictures.
I am amazed at how pretty much everything can be used as a learning tool.
He has been to the allotment with H and they learn about how plants grow and what they need to grow well.
AT 2pm H takes over again and they do some more writing and work.
We have a diary and a picture diary, we are taking pictures of places we go and are going to make a scrap book to record what he is learning.
On Monday he said "This is the very best day of my whole life" I am aware that for his whole life, because he is so affable and laid back, he has trotted behind, we have done exactly what his teachers did because he is so easy to care for. I feel sick to think of the damage that could have been done to this little boy just by doing nothing. I am so glad we saw what was happening and are doing what we know needs to be done to help him be the very best he can be.
I am sure that we will pray a lot in the effort to teach Eli, I think, if we decide to teach Seth and Isaac when they leave primary school, we will pray more than we have ever prayed before. It is a huge undertaking to do this, it is not a decision we have taken lightly. We are not young parents and it is exhausting to do this but we are parents, we had these children and it is our responsibility to make sure they have what they need, that they are safe, happy, secure and in the best possible position to grow and become well adjusted and happy adults with all the skills they need to live and grow in the world.
May the Lord help us and enable us to do what we feel is right for our children.

It's all done.

2010-08-31T22:54:00.005Z

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.

I hope they know.

2010-08-25T20:27:00.003Z

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.

At time and a season.

2010-08-22T18:41:00.002Z

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.
Slump.
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.

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

2010-08-11T21:15:00.003Z

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.

Beauty, my dears....

2010-08-07T19:40:00.002Z

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.

CHEEEEEEESE!

On a roll.

2010-08-06T20:52:00.003Z

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.
Extraordinary.
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 do...do 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.

So..

2010-08-05T15:52:00.003Z

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.

Hello? HELLO? Is this thing turned on?

2010-08-01T21:26:00.002Z

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.

Satisfaction.

2010-07-18T10:36:00.002Z

The allotment is proving such a glorious thing! H spends a lot of time there, pouring time and attention into his plants. It has made a huge difference to him to have something so worthwhile and satisfying to do.
The fruits and vegetables are just beginning to be ready to eat and how delicious it all is!
We still continue to buy only free range, organic meat and continue to be astounded at the difference in taste. There is very little waste these days, the meat we buy and the food being grown and eaten is so much more tasty and the meat especially has so little fat, there is no water added so the joints don't shrink, what you buy and cook is what you get to eat, the bones make great broth so we have soups more too.
H seems well and contented, for so long he has appeared depressed and surly, how lovely to see the change in him and the results of his endeavours!

Sunshine...

2010-06-25T21:16:00.004Z

Well, look at this! I have a blog still, who knew?
Life is ticking along and really, what more can we ask?
The weather ( yes, I am writing about the weather, I have no excuses) is outstanding, SO hot and sunny, day after day, endless sunshine and incredible temperatures. I so hope we have a great summer this year, the boys still have 4 weeks left of school, I can't wait for trips to the beach and parks, travel to Cornwall and further afield.
We have booked a caravan in Cornwall for when Isaac has a residential school trip, I can't imagine him going with a new teacher and a different set of kids right after he starts next school year, I know he will love the trip and all the activities, so we have booked a caravan close by so that if he finds sleeping away too much he can stay with us at night and we can take him back for the daily activities. I am so looking forward to exploring Cornwall with H and the boys, I don't think we will mind even if it is raining, there is so much to see and do in the area we will still have a great time.

H leaves the house at 5am every day and off he goes to dig and weed, tend and contemplate. He is, dare I say it, a crunchy hippie of the most devoted kind. I have yet to see him hug a tree but I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't pat the apple tree in an affectionate manner when he is alone at the allotment.
He plays this, in the kitchen, he does, personally it makes me want to be physically violent, I suspect my DNA is so broken that there is no hope, but he believes that listening to this will heal DNA, what happens when you have broken DNA is a mystery to me and I am loathe to find out, if I am anything to go by I would say that you become very cynical and bad tempered, hey ho, to each his own.

We continue to eat only organic, free range, delicious meat and this very morning, when we all went to the allotment together we ate fresh raspberries from the bush, the berries are all beginning to show, the tomatoes are starting to grow right along with our excitement.
We have told the school that from September we will be homeschooling Elijah.
OH MY GREAT AND SCARY LIFE!
He is so far behind and his teacher has done absolutely nothing to help him. I love the school he is in, they have been fine with Seth, fabulous with Isaac and have completely let Eli slip through the net. HE cannot concentrate and he will never have the time or attention in a class of 30+ children that he needs.
We plan, eventually to be homeschooling all the boys. Neither H nor I can face the idea of sending the boys to a public secondary school, we don't have the money for private education and we just cannot imagine sending Seth, Isaac and Eli into the pit that is secondary education these days.
I sat at the train station last week, waiting for Eli to come home from a school trip and I watched the teenagers from one of the local schools arrive to catch the train home. This group of kids weren't more than 13 or 14 yet it was impossible to tell whether they had come from school, though they had uniform of sorts, the skirts were rolled up to ridiculous heights, the shirts were tight and gaping across the boobs, it was the hair and make up that threw me somewhat. What in the world is going on with the schools, parents and kids these days, why in my day...... Whoops, forgot I wasn't quite 70 yet but really, why are these girls allowed to go to school with hair piled high, back combed, sprayed and teased to within an inch of their lives, what is going on when they have such thick make up that they look like little street walkers?
They draped themselves over the gangly loud mouthed boys and I just felt so sad that so young these kids are hurtling towards adulthood, way before they have the necessary coping skills.
On the other hand I watched a young boy of 15, home schooled, not involved with the seeming hard requirements of young teens in public schools, he sat with his dad, head on his dad's shoulder...a sight like that is almost never seen anymore, by 15 boys are supposed to be tough and worldly wise, interested in girls and video games and family, well family is stupid and 'parents don't know nothin'
Seth is almost 10 years old and already we see how his body shape is changing, his walk is different, he tends to use hand gestures rather than words, nods at his mates and in public will walk ahead of us. It intrigues me to see how adolescence is rearing it's head already and I would and will do anything to slow down the transition to teenage years for these boys.
I have been talking to Seth about his body, he has been asking more and more about the facts of life and it has been a pleasure to talk to him about these things, he is so interested and sensible and I so want him to stay that way, he laughs and says he can't believe I tell him these things and will talk to him about them and I explained that he needs to know these things and if I tell him he will learn the real facts and all the necessary background information, if I didn't talk to him about it all, he would hear from his friends talking and would most likely hear the wrong information. I hope he always feels OK with asking me, he waits until we are on our own and has said that he can't imagine his dad ever discussing such things with him.
I am sure he is right about that, it's almost worth telling him to ask H just to see what reaction we get! Bless his heart, H doesn't do talking and talking about intimacy to a child, well let's just say I can't see it happening!
Isaac, Elijah and I went to the opticians last week, upon arriving the receptionist asked the usual questions, checking address and phone numbers etc and then she asked " Are you all fit and well?" I replied that we were just as Elijah said " NO! He ( pointing at Isaac) has ASSpergers, what IS ASSpergers? Have I got ASSpergers? I wish I had ASSpergers" I looked at him with a dumbfounded expression and the receptionist said " Why do you wish you had Aspergers Eli?"
"Because I love saying that naughty bit at the beginning!"
This boy is delightful. I love the way his head works, we are excited to have him home and watch him learn and grow and hold onto his sweet and innocent self. I say innocent, whereas in fact he is body obsessed at the moment, every chance he gets to say a bad word, flash his backside or be rude, is grasped with both hands and every ounce of naughty is enjoyed to it's fullest.
I can't believe he is 7 next month, the older I get the faster time flies, I want to enjoy this time and wish I could hold it back for a while.
Childhood is such an important and precious time, I feel so strongly that we should try and keep it around for as long as possible, not waste a day of it.
I have been so irritable lately and I just don't know why, perhaps H has the right idea after all and walking away from medicines and chemicals and embracing the natural and clear is not such a crazy idea after all, perhaps I need to eat some greens and listen to that screeching some more...or not.

So....

2010-06-06T08:25:00.002Z

I am just getting on with getting on.

H looks well, he has lost weight, has more energy, loves being up here on the allotment. My sister rents this ground and with her husband is growing beautiful vegetables and fruit, they both work full time and so they don't have much time to go and tend the plants, H has taken on some of the ground and goes up there every day, the boys go with him and together they spend hours digging and watering ( the boys spend most of the time climbing trees and chasing each other but it's outside and they are happy and healthy, perfect!)

I have found, with the worry of H not taking his medicine that, along with the others worries that would see me in the mad house, I just have to take things day to day, not dwell on it and try not to see disaster in every minute.

I bought a very cheap mobile phone and when H takes the boys on hikes or bike rides, I insist that one of them has the phone with them. H is stubborn but Isaac loves the phone so he has hit with him, at least, if the worst should happen I know the boys can call for help.

I am so excited about the fresh fruit and vegetables when they start to come in. We only ever eat organic, free range meat now, it costs 3-4 times as much as supermarket food but oh my goodness, what a difference.

I pay about £16 for a chicken, the funny thing is, raw it looks awful. It is solid, not squishy because there is no added water, it looks very dry and of course it is hand plucked so there are always more feather stubs! I was very wary when I fist cooked one of these chickens because it just looked so rough! My goodness, I have never tasted anything like it. Moist and tender, pure tasting and each chicken ( about 6lbs in weight) easily gives us 3 meals. The carcass makes the most delicious stock. The whole family loves the soup I make with the stock, add a couple of cans of creamed sweetcorn, some single cream and some of the meat and you have the most glorious soup to eat with some crusty bread.

Last week we bought some mutton and H loved it ! I cooked it in the slow cooker with onions and tinned tomatoes, when the meat was falling apart I made a curry sauce using the tomato and onion liquid the meat had cooked in. Heaven!

It took me a week and 2 different meals to decide that paying that much more for this meat is worth it. I will never buy meat from a supermarket again, the difference is so stark, so incredible that the thought of ever eating that watery, steroid pumped shop meat again is ridiculous. The boys eat every scrap, Seth especially loves the chicken. I feel I want to stand on a soap box and preach to people about eating free range, organic meat!

We eat much less meat than before, it is much more satisfying, you need much less on your plate to feel sustained. We eat meat perhaps 4 times a week, we buy sausages, minced pork, roasting joints, ribs and pork fillets from a friend who has a small holding, we also buy eggs from her, again the difference is amazing, dark orange yolks, beautiful tasting eggs. We buy beef and chicken from a farm about 4 miles away. Spending about £40 a week at the farm I buy 1 chicken, some mutton and ground beef, I also buy great bread and jam from the shop along with some fresh vegetables ( until we have our own!!) I spend about £30 every 2 week on the pork. I do have a fairly full freezer now though so won't need to buy any meat for at least a month.

I really recommend going this route if you can, once you try and taste the difference you won't want to go back to the wishy washy stuff of before!

*Stepping off soap box*

I am just in heaven with the weather we are having at the moment, oh such heat! Such sunshine! Such heavenly days of relaxation and untidy house! Really, does anyone clean and scrub when the weather is like this? The boys are doing really well tidying up after themselves and earning computer time, laundry is done and dried outside but ironing? I think not!

Living in England we can never be sure how long the sun will last, why waste an hour of it to vacuum and tidy when we could be at the water park or beach?

Car boot sales have been fabulous, it seems people don't mind sitting out in the heat selling their trash as other people's treasure! We have found sales 3 days a week and H and I love wandering around and finding bargains.

Life is OK, sometimes it's fabulous, sometimes it feels so hard I would love to crawl into bed and stay there. The best thing is to keep getting on with getting on. That's good enough for now.

Give me strength, or failing that, drugs, happy drugs.

2010-05-28T11:30:00.004Z

I'm not sure I should even start this blog post, it is sure to be a crazy ranting of epic proportions, which is right in line with LIFE as it is, here, now.
H has always been a believer in being positive, think and ye shall be kind of person, why if you are thinking in a mean and negative way, you will BE a mean and negative person so let's not do that. Let us think in positive and helpful terms and be a helpful and positive person. Oh, how I wish I had appreciated THAT while it was around.
So, life is pretty crazy here, watching Eli and his precious way of thinking, he is still as delicious and eccentric as ever and we seem to notice every single thing he does and note it, in our heads, ready to share with doctors and pediatricians and teachers. For the record, my head is so full of quirks it has totally let go of anything remotely important, I can recall each and every quaint and touching action of Elijah's past month but don't ask me what *that* thing is called, you know that um, round thing right there ...oh you KNOW the sandwich holder, YES ! THAT! The PLATE...phew thankyou.
I have been looking for small musical instruments for primary so that we, the people running it can enjoy the melodies 30 + children form 3-11 can produce when handed such things as cricket rattles, bells, bongo drums and triangles when they are practising singing....I KNOW, darling isn't it? Would you like for me to tape that and share one day? I thought so!
So, the boys have seen me pounce on all and any such noise makers at car boot sales, on ebay etc and on wednesday, Elijah came down from his room with the most glorious look of pride and triumph on his face, holding what appeared to be a drum stick, split at one end. "Look! He said, I know you want some drum sticks and I saw this and it is a GREAT drum stick, isn't it?"
"well, yes, it is, where did you find it?" I replied, looking and trying to think where he could have found such a treasure.
"On my bed, I was lying in my bed and there are lots of THESE at the bottom, you know, where my feet go and I saw it and thought it was a great drumstick so I got it for you, you can have it...."
So, he kicked out one of the rungs at the foot of his bunk bed and really, what can I say? I love that he was falling asleep and saw that and thought of a way to please me and make himself happy but forgive me, if I don't hold out a little hope that one day, perhaps in the future not so far away, he might be bale to continue his thoughts right up the point where he thinks " Great drumstick but hey, probably best not to kick the thing out and break the bed huh?"
We have all manner of tales like that to take with us when we go to see the pediatrician in 3 weeks time, something tells me that we will have a few more by then too.
So that's Eli, Isaac has turned into some kind of loud shouting person with no filter, none at all, why let's YELL in that Robot voice about having SEX EDUCATION shall we, did you hear that? Isaac is going to LEARN ABOUT SEX!!! At SCHOOL! YES! SEX which is THE MOST EXCITING AND HILARIOUS THING AND WE MUST LET THE WORLD KNOW! OK?
He shouts whenever he is speaking to me outside the home, gone are the days when he would whisper oh so quietly, almost silently and ask me to tell people. I miss those precious days. No, now he thinks and he opens his mouth and he YELLS!!! ALL THE TIME!!!! HA! LIKE THAT! TELL JAMIE A's MUM I WANT TO GO TO HIS HOUSE! TELL HER...she is RIGHT THERE TELL HER!
Seth is a precious little ball of emotion, EMOTION ( oh look at me, am yelling, can't help it, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em) crying, stamping, door slamming emotion about everything that isn't fair, which is EVERYTHING! OK, here's an example, and it doesn't make me look good but it does show just how insane this house is and how close to a padded room and a mountain of calming drugs I am.
On ...oh who can remember? One day this week, I was buried by autism, everything I did, didn't do, thought, wanted, needed was smothered by someone else's freaky need or phobia. Add to that Sophie who at 21 is still mentally 13 in many ways and who also, is and has always been loud. She has made me proud in many ways and I am waiting for the day when she learns about money, I am waiting with baited breath and hope in my heart for the day when she says....oh hey.payday tomorrow and whaddya know I still have £50 in the bank. I am not *holding* my breath you understand because that would be foolish and detrimental to my health. I just live in hope. Until then, I live in the world where she asks, every single day to borrow money. Every, single. day. Like a dripping tap, "why though? I can pay you back in XYZ days? I need it, I want" to go to the pub with my friends, I need cigarettes, tampons, chinese food, the cinema"
Also, Sophie feels, as an adult, that she is within her rights to correct, discipline and aggravate the boys. She is not within her rights and I remind her of that very, very often.
Oh it was Tuesday, I know that because H was out, so here we are, tuesday evening, 3 boys in the bath, I say to them " I am going downstairs to get clean PJs for you, DO NOT SPLASH, I can hear you, I will be back up in a few minutes, just play nicely.
Time enough to walk down stairs, sit on the kitchen floor with the 3 piled high baskets of clean laundry and begin to sort through it for clean Jammies.
SCREAMING, oh such SCREAMING and over the screaming, fish wife of the year yelling " GET OUT!!! Get OUT OF THAT BATH! GO ON! OUT" more screaming because ITS NOT FAIR and YOU'RE NOT MY MUM! NO!!!! NO!!!! OW!!! SOPHIE" and me "SOPHIE!! Leave those boys alone LEAVE THEM ALONE!"
Then her screaming how Isaac did this and Seth did that and " YOU WEREN'T DOING ANYTHING!"
Dear Lord, someone help me.
I calmed it all down and managed to get Seth back in the bath to wash his hair, get the others downstairs and somewhat calmer, although all 3 were outraged at the unfair situation.
All of us in the front room, me surly and keeping my mouth shut, boys all sulking and a little cowed down by all the yelling and shenanigans, Sophie rattling off her bloody mouth at a rate of knots, until I said " Shut your mouth for the love of sanity shut the hell up or GO AWAY!"
to which she replied "Are you still taking your medicine because what the hell is with you today?"
And I lost it, quite spectacularly if you don't mind me saying so. I joined Sophie in the fish wives club and I said " WHAT's WRONG WITH ME??? What's wrong with me is that I have all you fucking children here driving me into an early and most welcome state of craziness.....WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME??? YOU!! that's what's wrong with me YOU!!!"
And then began Seth's woe.
He stormed out of the room and he wailed " I cannot BELIEVE you called me that! Did you actually say fucking child, did you? You did! Oh my, all I have ever wanted is a happy childhood and what did I get? I get you calling me a fucking child! A FUCKING child...ME! I never did anything to be called that, did YOUR mum call you that when you were 9 because I don't think she would have and you DID call me that and all I ever asked for was a happy childhood, I will never be happy will I? Will I? how can any child be happy when it is called such a thing?"
That child should be on the stage really. Right under my feelings of shame were tiny little sparks of joy that this was such a rare thing it had an enormous impact. It told me that despite feeling that I spend my whole life yelling and swearing like a Navvy, I must actually have quite good restraint because he was SO horrified that this word could be used in association with him that I was thrilled to know he must not be used to hearing it, go me!
That is an example of how melodramatic he is, on a daily basis. Did you know that he was incredibly happy with his life right up until Isaac was born, he had an idyllic childhood, one of story book level, until Isaac was born and then, well it went downhill, he has been miserable and ignored, shoved away from love and attention by that cuckoo in his nest that is Isaac. Did you also know that he was 11 months old when Isaac was born. Poor boy, only knowing joy until he was 11 months and then, well his life is pure hell apparently.
Isaac came home with a letter saying that he had been chosen to attend a gifted and talented day at a castle, where he will make a mask that will be hung on the wall and displayed for visitors to see. He was THRILLED at this letter and then stated that we would, of course say "thankyou very much, but no thankyou" and never mention it again. OK? Go to a strange place where people he doesn't know will be and then have to do something while they WATCH and make a fuss? Dear life if that isn't the very epitome of hell on earth!
When we read this letter we were equally thrilled and resigned to the fact that Isaac didn't want to go but we would work something out that meant he would go and enjoy it.
Seth doesn't like anyone being good at something if he thinks that someone might be bettering him at anything he will always manage to bring attention to himself by telling us that he was better at that or was higher up in the score department and of course he did the same thing on this occasion by telling us that " Actually I am gifted and talented at skipping ( never heard him mention skipping before, ever) and actually today, I was SO good at it that I had to skip in front of the WHOLE school and show them how talented I am"
*sigh*
"we mumbled something like " Yes, Seth, of course you did" and carried on with our evening.
The next day, cleaning out the school book bags, I came across a certificate of Head Teachers commendation thanking Seth for his "skillful display of skipping in front of the whole school" Whoops.
So you see the sort of life I am living, day to daily, on daily basis, every day. Every single day.
Back to my original topic, H has seemingly stopped listening to uplifting and enlightening pod casts, instead, when I go into the kitchen I have been hearing ANGRY men, SUCH angry men, blithering on about government corruption, medical bullshit and doctors who will POISIN you to make a buck, drugs with EVIL side effects that are more likely to KILL you than heal you. Yikes. When this tripe isn't playing in the kitchen it is seeping into H's brain through his ear phones, all day long, as he walks and works, as he sits and ponders, hour after hour of angry talk show hosts who have decided with what level of research who knows? that doctors, police, government and pretty much everyone really are all out to OPRESS YOU! Trying to take over every aspect of your life and FORCE you to vaccinate your children, POISIN your family with evils like flu shots and FLOURIDE in your DRINKING WATER.
I mention, every now and again how angry these people are and ask innocently where they get their facts and actually ARE they facts because ooooooohie if they don't sound like the crazies to me!
More and more H is expecting us to change our lives, no more tap water, only bottled...can you imagine what that costs for a family of 6? I even saw him using bottled water to BOIL NOODLES today. Slowly but surely the craziness if taking over and last night, it exploded a bit.
I can't be bothered to explain the whole evening but but the end of it I discovered that he has stopped taking ALL his heart meds, every single one.
I was bereft all evening because lie I don't have enough to worry about with these boys lately and now, well now I get to wonder every day if he will drop dead! Yeah! something to take my mind off the niggling worries like 3 autistic children, a daughter who seems not to be going anywhere, rats ...oh rats? Why I'd all but forgotten about that thanks to the latest insanities, actually they are dead and the smell has almost gone. How blessed I am.
I am right at the point where running away seems a great idea, in fact I came close to booking a hotel last night, just to get away but then I remembered I spent all the extra money I had put away on bottled water ,baked beans and cereal because HARD TIMES ARE COMING...are you all READY?!?!?

£84 Million!

2010-05-16T22:04:00.002Z

Someone won £84 million this week on the lottery. I think we all day dream about 'what if' what if we bought a ticket and then won. Do you imagine it? I do. there is something so improbably and gloriously idle about the idea of winning vast amounts of money, no work, just spend £1 in the newsagents and BINGO, no more worries.
I'm not sure that last part is true though because if I had woken up on saturday and discovered that I now had £84 million, I am pretty sure that I would be terrified. What on earth would you do with all that money? What a huge responsibility that kind of money would be.
When I indulge in the 'what would I do?' dream, I start off, as everybody does by paying off all debts of my family, no mortgages, no loans left for anyone. I buy a huge plot of land or an entire street of glorious houses and we all live close to each other but in our own homes ( thankyou very much!) I vary in where these homes will be depending on how much imaginary money I have won that week. Sometimes modest homes, sometimes great big estates with land and titles!
I imagine emailing friends and telling them that they can choose a home or pay of the one they have, I pay for school for people who want to further careers, I set up childrens' homes in foreign countries, pay for IVF for people desperate for babies.
My favourite part of my dream, after all the lavish and fun get togethers that I will host for imaginary internet friends, is the part where I search for people who need a break. I imagine walking around town looking at families who are obviously trying but need a break. I imagine finding people like us, who are happy, who have all the important things in life but who need a boost and then I just hand it to them. I imagine having the wherewithal to say to people "look, here's this house, it is safe and clean and has everything you need, you can live there for as long as you care for it, you can call it your own, make it yours and the rent is such that you will be able to pay without being afraid but will appreciate what you have and take care for it."
I like dreams, I like that you can choose them and change them, I love the way they make you feel. I like how they make ME feel.
I think though, that my 'what if' dream wouldn't be winning £84 million. Mine is usually 3 or 4 £million. I dream of enough to buy a reasonable house with a garden, a safe house where Elijah can play without escaping, a house built well enough that it won't need constant repairs. I don't mean a mansion because really, too big and too grand would mean too much upkeep and even when I dream I am practical.
I 'need' about £300,000 for my absolute dream house. Imagine having enough to buy a dream house but not enough to do that and share your luck with those you love. That's no fun is it? So £2 million would do for me. I'm not greedy at ALL am I?
I would even be happy to be able to rent my dream house if it meant I would never ever have to move again. If the winner of that £84 million should read my blog and decides that s/he will invest in property, can you buy a nice 4 bedroom house with a big garden and high walls, here in my town please and let me rent it forever? I will look after it and love it and promise not to bother you with minor worries. No leaking, damp or rats and I'll be forever pathetically grateful. Thankyou.
The rats are back here. I can't stand to go into details again because it's more of the same, it's as stressful and miserable as it ever was before, just somehow more hopeless.
Dreaming of winning the lottery is just that, it is dreaming, it picks me up and lifts me out of this situation quickly, without having to make plans that mean thinking years ahead.
I know that for me, the real way out of this is to plan long term. It's unavoidable and it's daunting. The plans and ideas I have aren't even a sure fire way of getting us a new life. They are the only ones I have though so that's where I am heading. While I start on the road, when I am fighting and straining and working along the way, I will indulge in a few dreams of the 'what if' variety because somehow they make it all seem easier.
I will also ask myself why some people DO get the 'what if' for real and wonder how they find that when it happens, if it is as miraculous as we all imagine or if it actually terrifying. Oh wouldn't it be kind of great to find out for ourselves?

The one where I whine. A lot.

2010-05-06T20:50:00.005Z

I wonder often how to start a blog post, when I feel like I have so much to say and can't quite throw it all together. This might be one of those days.
The rats are back.
It is such a small sentence isn't it? 4 words that mean my world is shaking in it's boots.
What is it about these creatures that gives them the power to totally bring a person to their knees?
I tell myself over and over again that they are more afraid of me than I am of them....but I don't convince myself. When one, half way down the stairs notices me come out of the front room and then JUMPS so it lands at my feet and the scuttles away and runs under the stairs, that makes me scream. When it happens again the next day it makes me scream and then swear and then stand with my head against the kitchen wall and pray, while I shake.
We are not dirty, I am a crumb Nazi, I pick up and sweep and throw away, we put lids on things, food does not get left uncovered or left out. Everything is packed in plastic drawers and tubs.
We set traps and then, when everyone but Seth and I was out, we heard the trap snap and then we heard the most awful AWFUL screaming, rat screaming, over and over and both Seth and I ran with fingers in our ears and he sobbed and I tried not to sob while I told him I knew it was awful but what could we do?
Sophie came home and she opened the door to the cupboard, then SHE started to cry because it was a baby rat, huge but still fluffy and obviously young. She was horrified that it was taking so long to die but she, like me, was unable to do anything about it...it takes a tough person to put an animal out of it's misery and I just couldn't even look at it, never mind touch it. I don't think I will ever forget what an horrific sound that was.
I have been puzzled by how insane these rats have been, they appear to have lost all fear of being seen, running about in the daytime, being visible, in the front room, just IN MY FACE.
Seth is traumatised, the night the rat screamed ( sounds like a horror movie title and well it may be!) I heard him screaming for me from his room. I ran up to see him and he was just distraught and said that he was so afraid that they would come into his room and he had tried to pray but was too afraid to close his eyes. So I prayed with him and at the same time I prayed that he would learn how prayer helps, how it can comfort and help us.
He did sleep after we prayed and the rats didn't eat him while he slept.
I am a nervous wreck, every sound makes me jump, every creak, tick, rustle makes me hold my breath. I hate it.
The pest control man is coming tomorrow but both H and I are dreading that as much as anything because Oh dear life, the smell.I don't think I can live through that again. The smell has never really left, every now and then this house smells like a sewer on a hot day and what is even sadder is that we all try to pretend we can't smell it, we can't bear to mention it because, well I know for me, it is because I am so sick of being out of control, so tired of this whole housing business, moving from pillar to post in an effort to try and find somewhere that feels like home.
This house is actually a lovely house, it has great potential but it needs a lot of knocking down and putting right. I am convinced that we need to be out of this house and the floors need to be ripped up and these rats killed, properly.
We know they are in the walls because we can hear them, they are under the floor because they run, from one end to the other and they sound like stampeding dogs, I am not exaggerating when I say they are LOUD. H has never heard them, usually it is at night when he is asleep with his earplugs in. This week we were in the front room, no kids, no TV and they ran, above our heads from one end of the room to the other. H's snapped over to stare at me and I am pretty sure he thought "SHIT!" his face looked like it was thinking that, definitely, he said " What was THAT?!" When I said "The rats, that's what they do at night, Sophie and I hear them all the time. That's what they do" he just looked stunned. What can you say?
We sat here a couple of nights ago and I looked at H and said "There is one behind the sofa" so in a jiffy he had set the scene, front door open, everything cordoned off and me sitting with my feet up on the chair. He opened the front room door, got a walking stick and poked under the couch, that thing ran right under MY couch...so he poked and prodded and then it ran right out the front door.
This is not the way I like to spend my evenings!
I have been looking at other houses but my heart isn't in it. What is the point? Wherever we go there will be some problem that we can't solve. I know that in some ways this is the consequence of my actions. In others it is something I can't do anything about.
There are very few things that money can buy, this is really the only thing I long for. A home that is mine, that I can choose, that I can research and plan and make right. I look at dream houses and they are just that, a dream, I know I can't have them. I look at houses that, in different circumstances might have been mine and then my heart cries.
I don't need luxury or grandeur. I don't want marble or sweeping drives. I want safe and I want always. I want walls that will hold memories. I want doors that can shut out those things we choose not to have within them.
I am so bone weary of holding my breath, of being afraid. I am sick to death of pretending it's all OK. This is not OK, I can't even stand to go into nice homes belonging to other people because it makes me so sad I can't bear it.
I am sick of breathing stench.
I am going to stop writing now because I am depressing myself. I know that all around the world there are people worse off than me. I do know that. I count my blessings and I whistle a happy tune as often as I can. Sometimes, I just can't and when I can't, I try and come here and write it out so that no-one has to listen to me or see me with a face like a smacked arse. Onwards and upwards and put on a happy face.
Here's to happy faces.
Also no rats.

Literally speaking....

2010-05-04T19:19:00.002Z

One of the 'things' about autism / aspergers is a tendancy to take things very literally. I haven't noticed Seth or Isaac doing this noticeably, Elijah however is hilariously and annoyingly literal. Here follows a few examples of conversations with Eli.

" Elijah, if I hear you swear one more time, you will be in trouble, it is not acceptable and I do not want you to be a little boy that swears, people won't want you to play with them, you won't be invited to play at friends' houses, I do not want to hear you use those words anymore, OK?"
"OK"
2 minutes later when he is playing out in the yard and I was in the kitchen.
" SHIT!"
"ELIJAH!"
"But I didn't think you could HEAR me!"

Whining voice "It's not fair, you never give me what I want, I never get ANYTHING"
"You'll get *something* in a minute if you keep whining!"
"Oh. OK.......but now I can't think of what to whine about"

Do not come go through that gate, it is dangerous, there are cars, stay in the garden, do you understand you are not to go out of that gate?"
"Yes"
*climbs over the wall to get out of the garden*

More Eli-oh.

2010-04-30T20:13:00.003Z

Funny, isn't it, how you think you feel something and are justified in feeling that way and then something comes along to smack you in the head and show you that you know nothing really? Funny peculiar that is, not funny Ha Ha.
I was much more sad about the impending pediatrician's appointment with Eli, so sorry for myself, oh woe is me why MY kids? Why THIS boy, oh sob.
I half heartedly tried to look at the doughnut, not the hole but it was quite nice wallowing in the self pity for a while.
On wednesday, at 8pm precisely Eli got poorly. He said his tummy hurt and he couldn't get comfortable, he sat up, he lay down, he lay on his side, on his back, sat up again, nothing worked, he was so tired and kept asking when he could go to sleep and he would fall asleep and then sit up crying because oh, how his tummy hurt .
By 9.30 I knew this wasn't just a little boy tummy ache, it wasn't a bug, it was something different. We called the out of hours doctor, we went to the lovely new hospital in town and met with the on call Dr who said he thought it was appendicitis and sent us with a letter to the bigger hospital a few miles away, telling us that we wouldn't have to join the masses in the waiting room, we would go straight through to be seen by a surgeon.
That would've been nice.
We sat in the waiting room and as we sat, Eli got more agitated, more in pain and after ( immediately after) asking how long this wait was likely to be and being told that it was impossible to say, Elijah said those words that every parent dreads. " I am going to puke!"
We'd been so ready, bring with us a puke bowl for the car, puke bowl and precious animal blanket. Animal blanket came with us into the waiting room, puke bowl stayed behind in the car and there followed a slow motion clip from a horror movie, a panic glance around waiting room, a hasty "Hello? can we have a bowl please?" a blank stare followed by total inaction until I saw a bin across the room and I picked Eli up, ran and ALMOST made it, I was right there, foot on pedal and the forces erupted and more puke than I have seen in many a long year came out of that little boy. On the bin, by the bin, on his PJs, on Sophie's flip flopped feet but not on precious animal blanket because a mother's instincts are quick and my left hand somehow grabbed that thing away from him and over to the side before he replicated the scene from the exorcist.
Funny Ha Ha AND Peculiar thing, within seconds we were called in to see the surgeon. Before we could move I had to strip that little fellow down and carry him in nothing more than a pair of boxers and his socks through to the examination room.
These things always take a while and I remember so clearly the how long I had to experience the gamut of emotions a mother feels at this time. Fear because ...dear boy is precious and splendid and how I hate to see him so ill.
Relief because I don't care what people say about the NHS it has always been right where I need it, right when I need it and scruffy corridors, dejected looking paintwork aside, it works, people who need help get it and they never have to give a second thought about how they will pay for it. I really DID think about that when I was there because I have so many friends who can't say the same thing, they can't say they don't have to worry when their kids are sick that a co-pay, prescription, appointment, test might cost more than they can afford.
Gratitude because although these doctors are hard worked, tired and nowhere near appreciated enough, they are ( in my experience) so lovely. Kind and funny and no matter how busy they are I noticed how careful they were to explain to me and to Eli exactly what was going on, why something was being done, why nothing was being done and were happy to answer any questions I had.
Shame. Oh the shame.
There is a law irrevocably decreed that should your child ever need emergency treatment, it will almost certainly be on that very day when you have looked at your filthy kid and said " Meh, a bit of dirt never hurt anyone"
On wednesday, when I picked the boys up from school we stayed behind so they could play with friends after school. The played on scooters and on the field, the slid on slides and climbed up grassy banks. When we got home they ate dinner, then they played in the yard, fixing bikes, taking parts of their old bikes and putting them back on, tightening chains and mud guards, all the things boys do. I said several times in the evening how they all really needed haircuts and also ' you are SO having a bath this evening' but they were having such fun and bath time is such a chore.
I knew that had to have a bath, I just kept putting it off until some friends came to visit and it was already 8 o'clock and ' whoops', never mind. I did, in all fairness to me, scrub them a bit, cleaned the worst of the grime off and sent them off to bed.
So here I am, in the hospital with this sick child, in boxer shorts that look like a 6 year old has been wearing them all day ( it's OK, that's as descriptive as I will get on that one) socks with puke spots on them, ribs you could play like a xylophone, legs that have barely a mm between the bruises and fingernails the like of which you might only ever have seen on a mechanic. His hair badly needs cutting, he has a double crown and so he looks like he has a pair of chimney sweep's brushes stuck on the back of his head.
I looked at his little sparrow body, all grimy and pitiful looking and I looked down at myself, I had, thankfully had a shower and washed my hair but then I threw my comfiest clothes on and that was what I was wearing.
I seemed to get asked if my family is known to Social services more than I remember ever being asked before. I watched the faces of the nurse as she took the details of our family when we were admitted to the childrens' ward, the " who lives in your house" and " how many children and what ages are they" replies got some raised eyebrows. Sophie came with me when we took Eli, so there were a few " So *you* are?" and "*this* is?" One nurse eventually caved and said "I have to ask you, where is Eli's dad from because his skin is so beautiful and I know his dad must not come from here" Loved her face when I said "America" and let her puzzle that one out before I put her out of her misery and told her that he has Mexican blood. Sophie made her laugh when she said " you want to know about *my* dad too don't you because I am have such beautiful skin as well. My tan came from a week in Tenerife and it's NOT fading at all!"
The fact that Elijah ran into a gate on tuesday didn't help matters, his front teeth are crooked and his poor little gums are all black and raggy looking.
He had 2 days of testing, blood tests and urine tests and 3 pediatricians, 4 surgeons poking and prodding. He got better and then he got worse, he was happy and he was so pitifully sad.
He slept for 3 hours the first night, crying in his sleep and waking up because he hurt.

He would seem so well, he woke up after a nap and said " All clear, tell 'em I can go home, I don't even have a teensy bit of pain or puke, I am better" and he ate a good lunch, he played, he hopped, skipped and jumped and then, in the blink of an eye he was sick again. High temperature, glassy eyes, sweet face all crumpled with pain and surprise that he wasn't all better and he couldn't go home.

He loved having a TV right by his bed and he watched 'Top Gear' even when he was poorly and hot.

We had a room to ourselves and I was so happy to know I could sleep right there with him. I slept for one hour. I realised just how glorious my bed is these past 2 nights. Eli had a big hospital bed and I, well I had a little put you up bed, that folds up into the wall. I had one pillow and I swear that thing had a mind of it's own and it hated me. It had the obligatory plastic covering but it was a sealed cover that had an incredible amount of air in it. Every time I put my head on that pillow the air would shoot over to the other side and my head would slip off.
I know that I didn't weigh anymore in the hospital than I do at home but why on earth did I feel like I was crushing my own self? Whenever I tried to lie down I felt I was crushing my arm or squashing my legs. I tossed and turned, I fidgeted and fussed and eventually just gave up.

I did more puzzles and crosswords in the past 2 days than ever before, I love puzzles and crosswords but even I got weary of it!
He was so splendid, every minute we were in the hospital I found myself looking at him and just feeling so thrilled that he is mine. I watched him while he answered questions and I listened to his little voice, I stared at him while he slept and I enjoyed every part of who he is. He is so endearing, so accommodating and he is so happy to go along with the flow that often, I think he gets forgotten. We don't have to think about whether he is happy because he just is. We don't have to think about whether he likes doing whatever we are doing or if he likes what he is wearing, we don't have to think twice about what he eats because he just eats what he is given, he just likes whatever we are doing, he wears whatever is right in front of him.
I saw so much of his little personality while we were alone and he is just so lovely. Over and over he would say " You are so happy I am getting better, aren't you?" or " You like being here with me, don't you? I am happy you are with me you are the best mummy in the whole world."
He clutched his animal blanket the whole time and when his temperature was high I would tell him that he could have the blanket next to him but not over him. He covers himself with it and usually sleeps with even his head under it. One such time he said to me " Are they coming soon to do my degrees because my blanket is actually magic and if I can lie UNDER it, I will get better" I love that he said ' do my degrees' instead of take my temperature. I was telling H what he said and his face lit up and he said " It is actually TRUE! Every time I lied under my blanket I would get better! It made me feel well again."
As I watched him last night, I realised that I don't care anymore what the Drs tell me when he is assessed for autism, whatever they say, he is who he is. A label won't make him any different' he won't change and I am so happy about that, I adore who he is. I am overwhelmed that he is mine. When he was little we would sing to him

"Eli Henry is divine.
Eli, Eli-oh.
I'm so happy that he's mine
Eli, Eli-oh."

Look at this face, the profile shadow of his cheeks is a thing of great slendidness.

This morning, after he slept for 8 hours he woke up and he was ALL BETTER! He was bouncy and totally Eli.

We were so sure he was really all better and I was just miserable when he crashed again, his temp shot up and he said his tummy hurt again. The surgeon came to see him again and at last we knew what he was suffering from, it's called Mesenteric adenitis. We were allowed to come home, he is likely to be poorly for a while but we know what to do for him and he has been better since we came home.
It is so good to be here, noise and chaos and all.
I am beyond touched at Seth's reaction, he is not usually at all emotional or compassionate, he has been sitting with his arm around Eli and saying sweet things like "Oh Eli, I think actually you are my best friend" which is huge from Seth, how lovely to see such a kind side from him.
Funny indeed how something that at first glance appears negative can actually be a positive thing, a hospital stay with this little boy has turned my thoughts around, I saw that Elijah is made just the way he is supposed to be and I am lucky enough to be his mum. Can't beat that for a happy thought.

Eli, Eli.......Oh.

2010-04-23T19:55:00.008Z

Elijah Henry, even writing his name makes me happy, I love his name, I adore him, every floppy, puppy eyed, sticky out eared, grimy nailed inch of him.

He is 6 years and 9 months old. Still, there is rarely a day passes that I don't look at him and wonder what life would be like if we had chosen not to have him, to stop after Isaac, when my body was so weary and getting old for having babies, when the desire to have a break was so strong..what if we'd gone with that decision and not listened to the whispering ovaries that said 'just one more, there is just one more' I am so happy that we had him.

From the day he was born he has been a joy, totally delightful. As a tiny baby, if he would cry, all it took was a murmur of his name and he would stop. He was the kind of baby that makes a mother yearn for more, except when he was born, I knew. I knew that this was my last baby, that he was everything I needed.

He has always been completely different to all my other children, I can look at all the others and see similarities to each other, Dan and Seth are very similar, Seth is also very like Sophie in some ways, Isaac and Jordan are very alike, Elijah is his own person. Unique in every way.

He is gloriously ditzy, he forgets everything, usually before he even knew it. He falls over a blade of grass, he drops, breaks, loses. It's what he does.

He likes shoes.

He mostly likes other peoples shoes, he cries when we make him wear his own shoes because they are BORING and STUPID and he HATES THEM.

Every single day we will tell him to get his shoes and he says he can't find them, then he brings a pair of shoes belonging to someone else and PLEADS to wear them and he is so sad when he isn't allowed to wear some basketball boots that are 4 sizes too big, oh it is so sad and his day is going to be MISERABLE!

On sunday, just as we got to church he said "Oh. Hmm, I forgot to put on my shoes" Now I can understand going outside with your slippers on and then laughing at how you nearly went out in slippers....I am not sure I understand how you can walk outside with nothing on your feet, climb into the car and then wait 10 minutes before realising you have bare feet.

Lately, maybe the past few weeks, Eli's devil may care attitude to life has become less cute and more frustrating.

I began to wonder if he had always been *this* dotty or if it just seemed worse because he is older.

I started to watch him more closely and become disturbed by what I saw.

He is still delightful but less endearing. He is more 'away with the fairies' than is appropriate for someone who is nearly 7.

He doesn't seem to understand the simplest of instruction.

I spoke to his teacher yesterday, it seems that right at the same time I was seeing things I don't like, she has been feeling the same.

He is not working at school. At all, he is disruptive without seeming naughty. He is not rude...he is just 'vacant'

He is not naughty, he just doesn't do what is expected or explained to him.

He reads beautifully without understanding what he is reading.

He can spell beautifully but cannot write a sentence that makes much sense.

He has forgotten how to play with children, he now runs after the 'naughty' kids saying they are his friends, when we speak to them they tell us that they aren't his friends and that they aren't playing with him, they are running away from him because he is annoying.

He stares at the teacher when she asks him to do anything and he seems to understand and then he does something completely different to what he was asked.

I went to see my Dr today and discussed all this with her and she is sufficiently concerned that he has been referred to a pediatrician.

Funny how now I seem to be thinking back and seeing all the signs, like his running away in London, twice. Most kids of 6 can understand " stay here while I read this board" and stay there, they have enough sense to know how scary getting lost would be. Eli didn't grasp that and even when he had been lost once, he STILL didn't get that he should stay close to daddy. He was then happy to walk up to a total stranger and say " I lost my dad, can you get him back?" At the time, although I was horrified at his wandering off, I was still in the land of "bless his dopey heart"

Like today, he wandered away from us and I was calling and calling, couldn't find him, couldn't hear him, my heart was pounding and then I found him, standing behind a pile of boxes, with his hand in the air because his teacher says ' don't shout out, raise your hand' which is great at school but outside, in crowds, when you are lost? Not helpful!

He went to a birthday party and there was a bouncy castle outside, picnic rugs and all manner of fun things. There was a small gate leading to the car park and a low wall. I told Eli that he must not go out of the gate, that there were cars and it was dangerous, I also explained to the parents at the party that he was prone to wander and asked that they just keep an eye on him when he was outside. I got back to collect him 20 minutes before the party ended and sat in the car reading, there were a good few kids playing outside and I watched them for a while, then I saw Eli come outside, run around a bit and then that little stinker climbed over the wall into the car park, he didn't see me sitting there and right as I was about to shout to him, the dad saw him and called him back in.
The thing is, as it happens, I told Eli he mustn't come out of the gate.....so he climbed over the wall. Problem mummy? Huh? But I didn't go out of the gate! Bless his straight thinking little head.

I feel stupid. I have been drinking up his eccentricities because they are so refreshing and sweet, I should have been noticing that this is not OK.I have no doubt that he will be fine, it might be hard work getting him there but he will be as fine as can be. I'm not sure it is possible for him to be more splendid than he already is, he melts everyone he meets such is his sweet self .

He is Elijah, no matter whether his most splendid points are because of some disability or just because, nothing will change who he is.

Mind your block!

2010-04-14T18:25:00.003Z

I am a monster. From out of nowhere, with absolutely NO idea why, I have become a raging monster. I have yelled, LOUDLY, with no control whatsoever at TWO strangers in the street, YES in the STREET, in the past 2 days, I seem to have not a ounce of self control and it is so unexpected and completely mortifying.
Both occasions have been when I have tried to drive somewhere and some eejjit blocks me in. I'm not going to give details of just how much I yelled and behaved like a deranged fishwife but on both occasions I have been mortalaciously embarrassed, only to go and do it again!
What in the name of hormones is wrong with me? I don't think I feel bad tempered as a rule, I go about my business as usual and then, without a second's notice, I EXPLODE! I will admit that my anxieties are through the roof, I am nervous and shaky about everything, sensing terrible dangers around every corner and that certainly puts me on red alert.
I collected the car and was horrified to discover that I hated it, I drove away and wanted to cry because it wasn't my lovely Renault, all clean smelling and handy, I was thrilled to have paid for it and for it to be mine, without worries of monthly payments but I was so sad with it.
I tried not to show it and everyone else seemed thrilled with it. H declared it quite the deluxe model, the boys are beyond thrilled with the space and while waiting outside the local hospital for Sophie for an hour ( bronchitis, she is still smoking, no sympathy) Isaac, he of the obsessions with buttons and opening and closing things, learned what every single seat, window, door, catch, lock, knob and whistle was capable of. That was fun. Not.
I drove it and I sweated buckets when trying to get it into the parking space outside our house, the space that is perhaps 8 inches wider than the car and a mere 6 inches longer. Oh what FUN that is and when some selfish none thinking sod parks across from my house that makes it even MORE fun and yes, that might well have been one time I opened the window and yelled "Can someone watch me reverse and do a 39 point manoeuvre into this tiny parking space? Only some selfish git has parked where they have no place parking and I would HATE TO RAM THIS GREAT BIG CAR RIGHT INTO THAT BLOODY CAR THERE!"
Yep, that was one of the times. The other time was similar.
The one time I didn't yell and in fact I was kindness and patience personified would be when I got into the car, having driven to Plymouth and deciding that actually, this car isn't so bad and it looks so shiny and nice when I walk towards it, it smells of fresh apples now and not old car and I decided that all was well, ahhhhh, what a relief, home we go, CRUNCH.
Oh, OH NO! What did I hit? Did I kill and old lady with her trolley because this car is SO BIG and high and a teeny pensioner wouldn't be visible.....I got out and saw that indeed it WAS a pensioner, an elderly man, although he had been in his little Toyota and had reversed into me as I reversed into him. I asked him if he was OK and he said he was, he was just old, I told him that that was OK because I feel old so we were quits. No damage to either car but my nerves and I suspect the nerves of old Toyota man were jangly for the rest of the day.
I have become more fond of the big old bus as each day passes, I have taken mum and Leah out, the boys and H out, Mel, Jordan and Joshua out, Sophie has been out and I have been out on my own. I have driven 150 miles and used £20 of petrol, with petrol at pretty much £6 a gallon that is really darned good for such a heavy car.
I like it more. I might even really like it when I stop getting in such a state about whether I will be able to get back in to the parking spot when I get home.
I love that it has Air Conditioning, that's a treat and we've even had some warm weather in the last few days.
I'm writing about the weather. Time for a break....
The boys seem to be wild lately, is it spring do you think? Spring madness indeed, it seems not to matter how long we are out, how much they have run and played, shouted and laughed, they are still bouncing off the walls when we get home. I am not enjoying it, I like the fun laughing and the outside playing, the endless shrieking, play fighting, not play fighting, yelling, jumping, all that stuff drives me to distraction and I would say to anyone thinking of having children later in life, it is not the playing or running, the sleepless nights and keeping up that is the tough part it is the total lack of patience for age related stupidity that is hard to live with!
I have been watching re-runs of 'One foot in the grave' and although I laugh at grouchy old Victor Meldrew, I feel a little sad that I know how he feels. I tell people on TV to shut up ( especially Ryan Seacrest, could he be more annoying? And that Kara whatever her name is WHO IS SHE? ) I love Ellen though, she makes me laugh as a judge on American Idol, this year has been so dull but her little quips make it bearable. I am a grumpy old woman who would knock your block off as soon as look at you, so watch out for that block, if you want to hold onto it that is.

You know what thought did, don't you!

2010-04-01T22:15:00.004Z

I thought, briefly, once, I think, that should I ever get old enough for 'the change' it would happen in a slow and comfortable way, easing me gently into the new life about to start, the free life, the one without PMS and inconvenient bleeding, the one where H would leave behind his irrational yet regular plunderings into complete arseholehood behind him, becoming a steady and unmoody H once and for all.
I heard about 'perimenopause' I liked the sound of that and I thought I would put that on order, for around 2025, I envisioned a slow irregularity to periods, where I would one day 'hmmmm' to myself and then remark that Aunt Flo hadn't been for a month or 7 and how MARVELLOUS that was.
I was completely confident that this was how I ordered it and therefore, this is how it would be. eventually. In 20 years or so.
I was looking forward to the no more periods bit with enormous excitement. I wasn't going to ever have the rest, in actual fact. It all seemed so stupid to me. Hot flushes ( flashes in America, trust them to have to be flash when we are flushing) those most certainly weren't on my list. I've had all the hot sweating I ever intend to have, with anti depressants and their miserable side effects. Wouldn't you know it though, still as regular as clockwork, every 28 days, complete with mood swings and a husband who behaves irrationally.
So then, imagine my surprise when I began to feel bizarre happenings, little moments that make PMS seem like a hilarious jape - OH THE FUN!
Moments such as this one, when recounted to my mother was met with a resounding WHOOP of a laugh followed by "that's the MENOPAUSE that is!"
The whole must not spend money because SHINY CAR thing is carrying on and we are doing splendidly, almost there, perhaps one more week. One.more.week.
In order to help myself not spend money I made a list, which is a HUGE thing, I live with autistic people, we live by rigid routine, you think I am making lists and sticking to them as well as every other must do, think on. Not I.
But I did make a list, or a menu, for monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday and even Sunday.
Monday. Spaghetti with bacon. Lovely, fry bacon and mushrooms, add garlic, onions, canned tomatoes, tomato puree and lots of black pepper and pour over cooked spaghetti. Delicious and simple.
Tuesday ( missionaries coming for dinner) Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans.
The rest of the week is as uninteresting as that ( apart from Sunday, roast lamb and all trimmings, yum) and not important to the tale.
Monday afternoon, H is picking the boys up from school and everything was in order, I thought I would just lie down and have a short nap. Ideal.
5.30pm... OH OH NO! Is so LATE, get up! What day is it? Where am I? What?
I stumbled downstairs and could smell cooking, strange, thought I, cooking? How so?
When I walked into the kitchen, there was Sophie, cooking dinner.....smells great.....spaghetti, well done, she can read....but Oh! Look! OH NO! Spaghetti with meat sauce, ground beef.....
and that is when my head flew off, hit the ceiling, rebounded off the back door and then landed back on my neck just in time for me to SCREAM "WHAT ARE YOU DOING???? and as I screamed I pointed at the LIST!! The LIST!! " It says BACON! CAN YOU SEE?? BACON!!!!!!"
Sophie ( with puzzled and yet amused/horrified look on her face) "And?"
"AND??? AND???? That ground beef was for TOMORROW! Meatloaf --TOMORROW and now what? Hmm? NOW WHAT? Well, NOW, Obviously I will have to go and buy MORE beef won't I and...."
And then I went on and on the whole time my head was yelling at me "SHUT UP! She is COOKING dinner, without being asked, because YOU WERE ASLEEP and yet you are yelling...shut your stupid mouth." I ignored my head of course. By the time I went into the front room, H was sitting open mouthed ( but not letting any words out of his mouth because he is a wise, wise man.)
Also, 3 times this week, when we are experiencing a week of biting cold temperatures and even, in some parts of the country, snow and wind, hail and more rain, I have sat and said "Oh, oh my...why is it so HOT? What is going on? Did you turn the heating up? Pass me that piece of card / magazine / envelope. Fan Fan flap fan.
Oh the misery, the beginning of a prickly scalp, then the burning, burning cheeks, the prickly heat over the chest....from head to toe heat, miserable, strangling heat that makes me want to open windows, strip off every stitch of clothing and pour ice water over my head.
H is a wonderful husband, he has been doing all the dropping off and picking up, the boys take bikes and scooters and he patiently follows on behind and herds them home. I want to say that all that walking up hills and down dales would have killed me but actually, I am pretty sure it would have done me good. I will admit that the first couple of days, walking here and there and lugging heavy bags up this hill we live on, made me feel I was about to give up the ghost. Oh my goodness, the heart pounding, lung bursting, face throbbing, muscle screaming pain of it....and then. on day 3 or 4, I noticed that I could walk up the hill without stopping, still panting but not stopping. This last day or two I have been able to walk and talk, my legs don't hurt anymore. I feel better and I know that I have to keep walking.
Sophie and I took the bus to Torquay today and we walked and walked and then we got back and I walked up the hill without stopping, carrying 3 big bags of shopping and it didn't hurt.

The new car is big, 7 seats, bigger engine. Petrol is now £1.20 a litre. A LITRE, I don't even want to work out what that is a gallon, it is disgraceful I know that much. It means that I simply cannot drive everywhere anymore. I will have to walk if I just want to wander around town, or only have to pick up bread or milk, I will have to leave the car behind.
I have also noticed that my shoulders, knees, ankles and wrists are hurting, they are less mobile and I know that if I want to keep them supple I have to use them more. Walking has helped my hips and knees, my shoes are really bad ones for walking and I think it is those that make my ankles hurt so much.
My foster brother posted a load of old pictures on Facebook this week, lots of me when I was young and several of me when I was about 19.....when I saw them and remembered how thin I was, I thought about how I used to run ( for fun!) and how busy I was way back then, I realised that this body I am in, is not how it is meant to be. I don't need to be this way and it is possible for me to be fitter and more healthy and look better.
Who knows if I will ever manage to stick with a lifestyle that makes a difference for long enough for it to actually make a difference, it is so hard to change such bad habits but I am glad that I keep trying! I hate to think what size I would be if I just kept eating and eating and never losing any of it.
I know I have some things to look forward to that will make it easier to plan and work for and I want to encourage Sophie to do it with me, we spoke about it today and have decided that on monday, after the Easter weekend, we will help each other to make some changes.
Perhaps I should make a list! Plan things that will make me sweat! Just a thought and you know what thought did, don't you!

Patience is a virtue...

2010-03-28T18:40:00.002Z

Patience is a virtue, find it if you can,
Often in a woman but never in a man.

Or me.

I am not patient, I can be patient, to start with, I am all ' It's fine, all is well, this is fine, lovely...' and then, usually in the last stretch I turn into a toddler with all the stamping and pouting and sighing, plenty of sighing.

I want my car. NOW. THIS WEEK, tomorrow or even yesterday.
This week is one of much to-ing and fro-ing. Isaac has a school play and he says he is in it, he has taken his costume ( which was meant to be a suit, shirt and tie but became dark jeans, white shirt, jacket and I don't want to wear a tie because I am being Jeremy Clarkson and he doesn't wear a tie and Ms C says she is so thrilled that he said he will do it and has actually done the dress rehearsal and even said words and everything that she doesn't care about the tie and ISN'T THIS MARVELLOUS? ) So the play is tuesday lunch time, tuesday evening, wednesday evening. So, home from school, eat and right back to school and then home again. In torrential rain, because YES if we haven't had torrential rain every single day, bar one, since the old car said goodbye and died on us. More rain forecast for the next 48 hours, wouldn't you know it. I suspect the sun'll come out next week, when we have a car and no-one has to go to school. Which in it's own self is glorious because we shall travel and marvel aloud at how spacious our new car is and how shiny, aren't we LUCKY? It would just be lovely if the car was already here, that's all.

Did I say that I sold the old car? I forget, I might have been a bit quiet about it because paranoia set in about the whole malicious bidder thing, WAS IT YOU? Did you read my listing via FB and decide I was far too cocky for my own good and needed bringing down a peg or two ?
Who could possibly hate ME so much ( apart from her and also, her) don't think I haven't made a mental list and put a cross next to your name!

I did the paranoia for about 30 minutes and became so exhausted by it I stopped, life is a bit short isn't it, to carry around hate and misery, some people do it and you only have to look at their pinched faces to see how that is working for them to know it's not a good idea.
So, I sold the car to a family who are so excited about it and they have someone who can mend it and then, well then they will love it as much as I did. Couldn't be better.
I also decided to file a non payment strike against idiot who 'won' the auction on Ebay, purely so that in my mind, on wednesday, it will all be closed and done with, I can move on and put that sorry experience behind me.
So, the whole point of this entry is to say that I WANT MY CAR NOW, in the hopes that I can avoid being a whiney brat in real life.
Just a few more days of walking in the rain. I hope.