On bravery and chivalry.

So the boys are back at school. We were on time, Isaac makes sure of that.
Last friday he started the count down, " 6 Days til we go back to school! Are the uniforms ready? Where are they? Shall I put mine on the end of my bed? How about now? Now? Where are they?"
Every day until monday, he told us how long. On monday
" 3 Uniforms and 2 packed lunches, shall I put mine at the bottom of my bed? Will you do it, it IS ready isn't it? What will you put in my lunch?"
Monday night
" It's 16 minutes to 8, we go to bed at 8 when it's school tomorrow, we don't have iPods when it's school, dad DAD DAD! It's 8 o'clock QUICK! Bedtime, come ON!"
On tuesday,
" 48 minutes til we leave ( and he came down at 6am on the dot, fully dressed, ready for school.)
Bless his heart he was so anxious.



I watched him as the time got closer and closer to leave and I saw real bravery. I tried to imagine how it must feel to be so worried about every day things, I remember how terrified I would be of the first day at a new school, how anxious I would feel if we were to have a new teacher but I don't think I have any idea just how deep Isaac's anxiety goes.
He feels levels of fear that I can only try to imagine and yet as he gets older he fights those feelings so hard.
In times past he would hold onto the door frame of his classroom, tears streaming but not a sound would escape him. He would hide and wrap himself in blankets and refuse to get dressed. Now it seems he is super ready, obsessively checking that things are ready. He prepares and then he tries so hard not to cry. To watch him taking deep breaths, checking his school bag, making sure his lunch is in order I am in awe of how hard just living is for him at times.
H takes him into his classroom and rather than holding onto the door he holds onto H and whispers instructions " ask Mr W if I have P.E today" H will check and then they look on the computer where Mr W has the days timetable written down. " ask if he wants to see my new History book but tell him I don't want to show him, I will put it on the table and he can see it but I don't want to talk to him about it" SO H talks to Mr W and will show him where the book is.
He holds onto H and then when the bell goes, he takes a huge breath in and then pushes H away and says " Go now!"
Imagine feeling that most days. As the term goes on, he gets less anxious. Then just as he gets to relax more, it is half term again and he has to go through it all again.
Seth does nothing for school, until he gets there when he starts with the " Did you pack my P.E kit?" and " I have to hand a form in today, did you sign it?" Drives. Me. Crazy!
H and were excited about school yesterday, usually I like the school break, I like not having to do uniforms, lunches, school runs, we have fun when they are home. This break was painful, for reasons we have no clue about, it was so long and the boys were either hyper or bored, hyper, bored. I was very ready for them to go back and be busy. H was craving the routine.
SO much so that as I waited outside the school, with the engine running to keep the car warm in this -5c weather , I looked up and saw, to my great delight and amusement that H was wearing socks and sandals! Heh! Ha. He hates getting his socks wet if he goes into the kitchen or bathroom so often he will throw his sandals on to avoid that......yesterday he was so keen to get the boys to school that he left and forgot the sandals and socks. Oh how I laughed! And laughed and then kept snickering because we went shopping right after and he had to walk around the 3 shops we went to in socks and sandals in minus degrees.
Walking around the second store, I stopped snickering ( and he started) when I saw that I had been out all morning with my T shirt on back to front. What a pair! We are a match made in Hopelessville! What hope do our children have, really?
I am enjoying H a lot lately, he makes me laugh with his quiet one-liners that are easy to miss if you're not ready for them. I feel lately that H and I are just beginning to know each other, the past years have been spent in a fog of babies and depression, getting on with it and getting through. These days we have more time to look around and enjoy what we see.
I love that he says things and then grimaces and will ask if he said 'that' outloud. I love that he is less afraid to say what he is thinking and less appalled when I let him know what I think about what he is thinking!
I am still thrilled that he is so polite, so gentlemanly ( is that a word? Yes, I am sure it is) and funny. I do love a man with manners. I might just keep him a while yet, especially since I discussed the beautiful ring with him and he said " Well, hmmmm, you seem to have the hwole thing worked out in your head already" and then agreed that sometimes its best to just go with the girlie notions at times as there advantages occassionally. Good man.

My Dad.

I understand Eternity, my dad taught me. My mum teaches me and my children make me want it.
The whole concept of eternity is mind blowing, but makes complete makes sense to me. If there is nothing after this then what is THIS all about, it's not just a few years of fun is it? I know that we should make more of what we have and I feel a sense of guilt over wasting too much of what I have by worrying.
When my dad was dying, I understood eternity more. The blurred edges of what we experience cleared away and it was so clear to me that we need to concentrate on the truly important things in life. From the moment we knew my dad couldn't be healed, I watched him. The world stopped for those 2 weeks and life was that little room, nothing beyond it was of any importance.
I saw things that were out of this world, I heard things that will last a life time, I learned things that will never leave me and I lost my fear of death. I saw, without a trace of doubt that there is so much more than this world, this short life.
I was ( and still am ) in awe of the fact that my dad, always so afraid of life, was not even a little afraid of death.
I watched as people from his lifetime came to say goodbye. I heard tales of how great a man he was. I saw real sorrow at his sickness and exquisite love for a man who had been such an example to so many.
Not one regret was voiced, not one person felt the need to make amends, not a single quarrel that needed to be settled.
My dad died with a clear heart and mind, knowing that he had done his best, tried his hardest, loved the purest. He made mistakes and he learned from them, he was a true friend, a faithful husband and a great dad. He didn't suffer fools gladly or even grumpily, he did grumpy really well. He gave his all and would help anyone but he did love to moan about it.
He loved a good gossip which was a shame as my mum doesn't do gossip, at all....hie tales were lost on her, never went any further and he was always deflated by her way of turning a juicy bit of gossip into a lesson on kindness and compassion.
He loved to eat and to his dying day he found a way to eat what he loved, diabetes be damned.
I see my dad in me and I see him in my children...especially Elijah. Families are great, the fact that we can be a family forever, well that's what makes it all worthwhile.
I miss you my dad, even though we know you're still here, in our hearts and in the goofy smile of your youngest grandson.





I wonder how things work where you are, birthdays I suspect are a nonsense and time will be a whole different thing, we are told that God's time is nothing like ours, our days are measured by man and by earthly changes, all that is different where you are and a year is but a blink of the eye.
Does it feel as though you were just here? Have you had time to miss us? Are you still catching up with your dad and people who I am sure were there to meet you?
Our earthly minds can barely comprehend how things are once the things that bind us while we are here have gone.
I don't worry about how you are, I know that your understanding is huge now, that you can look at us and know that although we think we are striving for joy, that we have no idea just how marvellous things will be. Oftentimes I will think of you when I am alone, in the car maybe, I think of the things that we believe are important, bills and cars, homes and holidays and I wonder what you would say to us, if you could tell us just one thing.
I wonder what we would say to you, if we had the chance to tell you just one thing. I tell you things anyway, here or not. I think we all do, we talk about you still so much. We miss you. Always.

Whistle, whistle.

Because I have nothing to say ( which never stopped me posting yet!) I have that horrible thing where you get a bad feeling, an uneasy sort of wary feeling for no known reason, of course then I find myself asking what it could be and making up 758 reasons for it. Things I hadn't thought about feeling badly about suddenly become HUGE. It's all part of being a bit mad, I think.
Did you notice how that little blob in the box up there to the left is growing? Look at it, little arms and legs and a big old head......and I don't feel even the slightest bit nauseous or achy or anything, becoming a Nana is a bit splendid, I just have ask how Mel is and nod in sympathetic manner when she tells me about acid reflux and gagging and being so tiiiiirrrrrrrrrred. I am careful not to tell her how much worse it gets or mention constipation or piles and stuff.
She looks very tired and rather like me when I was pregnant, appears not to be glowing or blossoming, yet. She just looks tired and young and completely oblivious to what it all means, ain't nature grand.
Bizarre that when we are pregnant, it's all about the excitement and the ideal dream, all the perfection we can muster etc. When it is someone else, maybe it's just me, all I can think of, especially when it's a first baby, is " uh oh.......you have no idea" as if it's a BAD thing to be having a baby. It so isn't is it? The whole thing from start to finish is magnificent. I find myself thinking more and more about the babies I lost. At the time I didn't have a chance to mourn them as I conceived immediately after both losses.
The first miscarriage wasn't a sad time, that baby was conceived while I was using THREE kinds of birth control so sure was I that I DID NOT WANT A BABY! Nevertheless get pregnant I did and the first one was not happy. You would think that I had done this terrible thing all on my own, just to spite him.
So, when I lost the baby it was sad for a moment as I had just begun to accept the pregnancy and it was gone. When, 10 weeks later I still hadn't had a period it was discovered that I had conceived immediately, along came Sophie, away went the first one.
The baby I lost after Isaac and before Eli was a horribly sad time. The sadness was lessened by the fact that within 2 weeks I had conceived Elijah ( I am such a loose and licentious woman, shoot me) whenever I begin to feel sad about that baby ( that I felt so sure I knew from the very first day I knew it was there) I just remind myself that had that baby carried to term I wouldn't have the Eli boy and really, life without him? Ack......he's the joy in all our lives.
I do feel that the other baby somehow became all s/he needed to be, it isn't sad that s/he didn't get to be born because I am sure that it's little spirit is right where it is meant to be.
It would be my dad's birthday tomorrow. I want to come up with something for him, I am missing him so much lately. The more time passes the harder it is to accept that he is gone. The first year was sad but we had this brave facade going on, the chin up and smile for the people thing.
It's not funny now. It's too long, too sad, enough already.....what? He's really not ever going to be here again? Well damn.
So, not sure what will come out tomorrow, might just be a load of old snot.

What a difference a day makes.....

11 yards of material @ £1.99 a yard.
2 reels cotton thread.
Recycled cushions, pillows, stuffing etc.
Aprox 9 hours of concentration, planning, swearing and satisfied sighing.
3 packs of sewing machine needles whatthehelldammitforbloodyhellsake.
An enormous amount of determination and excitement.
Husband that does drilling and follows instructions and tells me how clever I am.
A clever me.
And a room can go from this....



to this.....





Is this a cosy and rich looking boudoir or not? It is. I like it and I am now a little
keen to redo the whole house, can't though because we are going on holiday and must save and pay for things and eat etc. Which is why we still have blue frills instead of new ones, carpet is blue so I can pretend I planned it this way.
I am absolutely going to spend much time in Michael's and JoAnne's and will come home armed to make this house somewhere I can be proud of.

I am so much better, what a relief, I saw my Dr yesterday who patted my arms and told me how good it was to see me looking better and also smiling ( because I am going to be a grandma, not Nana because the other mum got to Nana first and I will not be one of a pair) She said that my poor old body is at it's weariest and lowest ebb and was very happy to hear that we are headed for sunshine and hotels, shopping and FUN in a few short weeks time.
My sister is here and we spent the day together with 3 of our little people, we caught up a bit and just enjoyed being together, she is my friend and we spent so much time together before we both moved to the States. Sometimes I miss her so much that I find I have to just not think about how far away she is. Times like today and precious. Happy day indeed.

Every which way.

This post will be all over the place, flip flopping from one thought to another, I have been awake most of the night wondering where to go and what to do next, this will be a jumble of some of the ideas and thoughts that I have had.
The council be damned, is the first one. This week I have seen and heard that we will not be helped by this organisation ( using that name lightly as , pardon my french, they would be hard pushed to organise a piss up in a brewery, however....) they have lost paperwork, done nothing with the information we have given them, neglected to update the information and work on anything to do with our case. All that is bad enough, maddening enough but they pushed me to a new limit by insisting that unless we behave in a way that is completely against everything I have been taught and believe in, we stand no chance of being helped.
First flip......
I am watching my mum buy a new house, she has had to sell the home she had with dad and buy a smaller one that will be more manageable and cost effective. She is 69 years old, every week we hear of another bill that must be paid before the sale and new house purchase can go ahead, another hold up, another blow....each one a little more disheartening and disappointing.
When my dad died, he had nothing to leave, no money but he did leave the house with no mortgage but with a couple of loans against it. He had no treasures that could be sold, no earthly goods to speak of. When he died though, he did so with such dignity, with absolute peace of mind, not a shred of guilt or regret because he lived as he taught us, he lived the way he knew was right. He had so much integrity that there was no choice for us but to see and learn and build up our own standards by his example. We watched him die, surrounded by people who took time out from their busy lives to some and let him know that he was loved, that he was admired and that he was known as good man.
For me, that was more valuable than any material inheritance, I knew that when my time here is done, I want to be able to die with that same knowledge, that I had done as well as I could, that I would be remembered as being honest and good. That matters to me. I have seen people face death and be eaten up with regret, trying to scrabble together and say sorry, to right wrongs and make things 'better.' We never know when we will be faced with death, probably right then, that we just live in a such a way that should it come unexpectedly, we can breathe a sigh of relief and feel content that we did our very best to live well and do those things that are important to us.
Flop......
H and I chose, without consciously making that choice known out loud, to pursue treasures that can't be counted in monetary terms. we have family, we have memories, we have closeness and standards that to us mean a lot. For us, somehow, even with brains and the ability to make good money and have careers, those things have eluded us, given the choice to make money and miss time with children etc, we chose to 'make do' I know that many people seem able to have it all....we haven't managed that. We have time with our children that many couples don't get, in time we feel sure that the rewards of that will be immeasurable, already with my bigger kids, I see what good I did by being available at all times, I see that in foregoing for myself the 'trappings' of wealth in order to be at home, my children have confidence and abilities I don't think I have myself. Now we don't have that choice, illness and events have us locked in a life that we have made good but is too late to change.
The choices we have made mean though, that we will never have the stability to buy a home, we don't have that choice, we are eternal renters.
I appreciate those people who have the means to buy and rent, I hate them sometimes because we are so at their mercy and more and more we are thrown from pillar to post through no fault of our own. However, I do appreciate that we are where we are because of choices we made, suck it up and remember the things we DO have that matter. All well and good.
So.....this is where we have hit a block that I am not willing to clamber over. The council have told us, several times, that in order for them to house us, we have to dig in our heels, when our time in this house is over we have to stay here and force either our landlady or the new owners to take us through the courts and evict us. If that doesn't happen then we will not be deemed homeless because legally, we are entitled to do this, we can stay until we are forced out by the courts.
How dare they tell us to do such a miserable and underhand thing? What about the people who are buying this house? the chances are this is a dream for them they could well be working out every penny, they have worked and chosen to buy this house and make it their own. They have a budget, I am sure of that, they have dreams. Imagine when they have finalised the deal, signed contracts, breathe a sigh of relief that at last this is their home.......then discover that we aren't moving out, that they now have to find extra money to take us to court and have us evicted? I won't do it. I won't be responsible for putting anyone through that...what if that were to happen to my mum as she completed on her new home? Where would she find that extra money for court fees? Where would she find that strength to deal with that extra stress and misery?
So, we lose out, in a way, we have found a couple of little houses, one is too small, we're all for downsizing but we need more space than a shed. One we have seen is small but still lovely, a bit like this one's very little sister. Right in town, hopefully big enough..we'll see on thursday. The council will not have to house us, we hope. I am not scuttling away beaten though. We are going to see the MP for our town, I am going to be writing letters and causing a stink and I might even take this to the newspapers, because I am so disgusted that these people who are paid to look out for families like ours are NOT DOING THEIR JOB.
They are dishonest and underhand. The man in charge of our case hasn't even got a list of housing associations that he works with , how can he call and ask how many houses they have if he doesn't even know who they are? It took me one morning to find a list, make some calls and discover that they will not ( with the exception of one association) divulge information about available homes to anyone but the council. He could find out with one call what homes are available, when more will be vacant...but he doesn't do that, he sits and waits for them to come to him and then he forgets who needs what.
I learned that 2 houses just right for us have just been allocated, our names wouldn't have been put forward for either of those because when I spoke to someone else on friday and he read our paperwork, according to what is written, we are living in a house that is 'adequate' that we have no medical points, that we are faced with impending homelessness but have the option to sit down and as yet are not 'even' facing court eviction, so no sweat then, no need to even consider us.
He tells people to cause contention and misery to hardworking landlords and home owners to make his job easier. Hateful, low life scum of a man...and he is not alone.
The council be damned, but we won't be.
If we have to move into a tiny house and pay over the odds, if we have to keep going through this misery and worry, I suppose that is what we will have to do but we will have the knowledge that we have not been the reason of anyone else's misery or stress. We will be able to hold our heads up high and know that we did what was right. Maybe our reward will be in heaven.......we can but hope!
Now, we have to dig deep, tighten our belts and try hard to get enough cash together to pay yet another deposit, another month in advance, removals and all that jazz. Here we go again. I would choose to live in a caravn and have a clear conscience than do what they are telling us to do.

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

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



Ahhh, balloons. I miss you my dad.


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


This is where we scattered his ashes last year.


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

An exhuberant Isaac who moments ater ran through the stream!



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



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

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