You'll get your reward on heaven, they say...

And sometimes you don't have to wait that long.
I have been asked to teach the babies at church, they would be very cross if they heard me to refer to them as babies because they are BIG boys, they are three, Noah, Matthew, Jared and Nathan. They don't wear pull ups and dey dot bid beds wizz Thomas bed and Cars quilt and they are SO big boys. But they are babies.
Christ said that he loved the children best and admonished us to be as little children. Every time I work with these little people I see why that is.
Todays lesson was about how Heavenly Father and Jesus love us. I took in with me a big canvas bag filled with toy animals, toy jelly fish, real fruit, a mirror.
We took things out of the bag
" A COW!"
"Doggie!"
"I want nat shart!" ( killer whale) one exciting toy after the other,we were having such fun and I got carried away and pulled out a bear, with growling face and sharp teeth....ROAR!
Noah may well have built the ark but that bear made him lose it completely. BAD mister Helen. ( which is who I am apparantly) Oh dear, it took poor Noah a very long time to recover and the bag no longer held any joys or excitement, just deep fear and flinching.
I showed them the mirror and said that if they looked in there, they would see someone that Heavenly Father loves very much, who could that be?
"ME!"
They had no inhibitions, not a trace of doubt, no embarrassment, just an absolute belief that they are loveable and perfect.
We really should be more like them.
Last week was my first week teaching the littlest ones, they cried and hung their heads and this is all so new to them, used to being in nursery where they play and have snacks, big boys now they sit with us and sing, and they have a lesson that is 40 minutes long ( that is a REALLY long time for 3 year olds, and an even longer time for a teacher if she isn't fully prepared, you cannot wing it with babies, they can cause chaos in a 3 minute lull!)
It took me a little while to settle them and by the end of the morning they were all happy.
Today, 2 were away and 2 came into church.....both these little boys saw me and I heard " Air she IS! Mister ELLUN!" and such excitement and joy, so happy to see me and no matter how bad the morning had been ( and oh my, this morning was a BAD one) life suddenly became brighter, if we could all just be so excited about learning.
These little boys remember what we did last week and they long to carry on, they jump and squeal when they know the answer to a question. When our lesson was over we went to the main meeting and as I settled my boys I heard again "HEY! Mister ELLUN!" Sweet Matthew who is so earnest and eager and careful to be right.......I adore these little boys.
I didn't adore Isaac today, I mean this week, actually the past month. I ran out of compassion for the troubles he may have had with moving, I am weary of fighting him on every damn thing. He has really pushed every limit lately and says no to everything, he stands rock still and refuses to get dressed, undressed, eat his dinner, pick up his toys, listen.......he does this smirk and just says NO.
Last night bathtime came and went and he missed his bath, this morning I ran a bath and asked him to get ready and jump in.
NO. He was determined not to do it, I tried everything from reasoning to yelling and he just ran away, stood still, ran away again, screamed NO NO NO NO NO. I asked H to come and help, because I am hormonal and my head is liable to explode or just spin in an exocist type frenzy.
No H. Now, H is the epitome of helpful, from monday to saturday he is there, hands on, doing it, organising it, cleaning it, working with the boys, for some unexplained reason on sundays he is on a whole different planet.
Occassionally I am organised enough to have church clothes ironed and ready on saturday night. Usually I am not, I am always organised enough to have he clothes washed and dried and ready for ironing but inevitably sunday morning comes along and there are 4 white shirts to iron, trousers to press, whatever I am going to wear. Snacks to prepare, lessons to pack up. Kids to feed.
H who gets up at 5am every day if not earlier, sleeps in on sundays, he then wakes up in time to shower and eat and dress himself.
Every sunday my irritation at this out of the ordinary behaviour increases. I never say anything because he is so great the other 6 days, I never have to worry about anything, if I have to go it I go ut, he does everything here, he walks the boys to and from school, he gets up with them every day and allows me to sleep whenever I need to. Sundays are the exception and I really can't understand why it irks me SO much.
I stand and iron the white shirts and without fail I am reminded of the day when, about a week after we were married, having ironed a whole stack of work shirts for H, he came over to me and asked if he might show me how to do them properly.
Yes, he really DID that and he is still here, without an iron shaped inprint in his forehead, so stunned and appalled was I that he would dare to suggest such a thing.
Because I allowed that occassion to pass without voicing my dissaproval, it comes back to me every sunday morning while I stand and iron the damn shirts that I hate bloody well doing and how DARE he show me how to iron a shirt!! If I want to iron the sides first and the collar last I will and lets see him try and make me do otherwise, except, I do it the 'right way' every week....collar and shoulders first, sleeves ( don't forget the cuffs need doing extra well to make them sharp) back next and then the fronts. Every week I hear his instructions and bloody well follow them, which makes me mad at him and even madder at me....you think he even remembers daring to 'teach' me how to iron a shirt??
So, hormonally challenged and annoyed that he is calmly going about his restful sunday morning routine, having been through the sunday morning hell of shirt ironing, I am now faced with Isaac who is making my time to get myself ready shorter and shorter, I can see I am going to have to go unshowered, no make up on and flustered if he doesn't get in that lovely bath and get CLEAN.
I ran out of patience, ideas and sanity and I picked up my fastidious and clothing obsessed 6 year old and I put him in the bath IN HIS PYJAMAS and his SOCKS and OH MY HELL THE WORLD CAME TO AN END!
H came then, of course, and he rescued Isaac, just as he had come down from the ceiling, just as I had helped him take OFF the WET PYJAMAS and OH MY SOCKS ARE WET I HATE WET SOCKS I DON'T WANT MY SOCKS WET ( well should have taken the damn things off 20 minutes ago and got into the bath the 1st, 2nd even the 7th time you were told!) He was just about to actually get IN the bath and daddy rescued him, that was the end. I crumpled in a weeping heap of frustration for about 3 seconds and then I finished off Isaac's tantrum. Rather splendidly thankyou.
Eventually, when I was bathed ( can't waste lovely, warm, bubbly water) and dressed and miraculously all 3 boys and H were dressed too, without my having to help or answer the 13 'where are my sunday shoes' questions (hurriedly shhhhhhed by H,) shoes were found without my help ( imagine!) I sat the boys down and heard myself telling of how when I was little, if my mum or dad asked or told me to do something, I did it. There were consequences to being disobedient and we learned very quickly that doing as we were told was very much the best way to go.
Seth listens well to discussions like these, I can see his head taking it all in and more often then not he really does change how he does things. Elijah spends a lot of time saying things like " I am a dood boy aren't I mummy? I dot inna barf didn't I mummy? I not a naughty boy am I mummy" Isaac, is a closed book. He fidgets and smirks, he climbs and plays and we have to wait and see if he took any notice or not.
He went to bed tonight without a battle (which hasn't happened since before we moved) he has always loved going to sleep but this move has thrown him for a loop, it's been tough.
Last night he fought so hard that eventually I told him he had to stay down and I wouldn't ALLOW him to go to sleep, he sat outside the front room, in the hallway yelling for a story ( which he missed because he wouldn't go upstairs at storytime, physically carrying him will not work, it is a waste of time and energy, he is set in a routine he has to do certain things or he is so distressed we are in for hours of misery)
we had to keep explaining that he had the chance and blew it, that he could either go to bed or sit out there on his own. ( praying for the patience to see this through and not just put him out on the doortep in a cancer reseacrh bag and let them take him away to sell for research money)
After 2 hours ( at 10pm) he walked into the front room, asked nicely for the flashlight ( he takes a lantern AND a flashlight, hot water bottle and a drink) and said he was ready for bed. Sometimes we are reminded that Isaac has autism when it might be easy to forget.
Mostly I get Isaac, I know how his mind works and we tick along beautifully together, he is my sweet boy and I love to have him come with me when I go out. Other times I have the worst time with keeping my temper in check, 2 hours is a long time to have to keep your cool and watch him go through this process. Today was not a good one to begin with, thank Heaven for those little people that made me feel as though I did something right.
There's a lady at church who has lost a huge amount of weight, she looks great and when I saw her the other day we had such a lovely chat about what she did and how she is still doing it.
She told me that she had a load of clothes that I was welcome to and I thanked her because I am so sick of my same old same old boring raggedy Annie look. ( unkempt even)
She brought them to church today and they really are lovely clothes, she works and so they are clothes that I can wear every day as well as out if I actually ever go anywhere.
I sorted through them when I got home and was so thrilled with them but gah.......it's not much fun being the recipient of someone else's FAT clothes.
The acid reflux, near death experience seems to have scared the greed out of me for a while, I have embraced my slimfast and salad diet with open arms and closed mouth. I am enjoying the feeling of not eating for England and wouldn't it be great if I don't get to wear Sally's lovely and much appreciated Fat clothes for long?
The weather has cheered up, sunshine always lifts my spirits, I am looking forward to spring and all that holds. Mel is feeling better and will hopefully be home from the hospital tomorrow. No ultrsound so baby is still a mystery to us, we're getting used to the idea now ( but I bet no-one would say no to the chance of knowing!) Such a worry this sickness has been, such a precious baby, we are so relieved that s/he is still where s/he needs to be.
Very good, ready we are for the new week, wonder what it holds.

We are just so upmarket.

Remember when I wrote this?

"For some reason known only to H, a swiss horn thing arrived in our bathroom, it is hung on a hook next to the toilet. ( and if I wasn't all together too idle I would take a picture) When Isaac, who is a bit worried that he will never wipe his own bottom well enough, has finished his business, we hear 3 long blasts on the horn and H goes running to do the honours. It is absolutely this type of thing that makes this house a great one to live in. Happy day indeed when we heard the horn when Isaac was at school..WHAT? Elijah, on the throne, waiting for a wipe. Hoorah."

We have come up in the world. Isaac still insists on being checked, he is always clean but the very idea that he might not be, is just more than he can tolerate.
I probably should warn you before I go any further, there is a chance that you might be overwhelmed by feelings of envy. I can't help that, some of us have, some of us can only wish to have.
When we left the old house ( that is officially nothing to do with us, keys have been mailed and landlady informed) we took with us everything that was unscrewable, that we had paid for, I might be striving to be a better person but pettiness overtakes me at times and this was one of those times ( also, thrifty, look after the pennies, the pounds will take care of themselves etc. etc.) We might actually need that rather top of the range padlock thing we put on the flat door, we never know when that doorbell might come in handy. We may not need it right now but one day, maybe even one day soon, we might rue having left such treasures behind.

I was upstairs emptying box number 353 into the airing cupboard, when I heard the doorbell, hmmmmm, who could it be? 'Tis late, sort of. Funny thing, that doesn't sound like our new doorbell, but it is definitely ringing, quite persistantly and urgently.

Yes, H and his glorious eccentricities strike again, with the unexplained loss of the swiss horn, we have been in a quandry reference the summoning of bottom wiper/ checker. There have been a few occassions when Isaac has been disgruntled that no-one checked his arse for him, bad times I tell you.
Yelling doesn't work, we are fabulously good at ignoring yelling, unless it turns into the almost a pain filled scream yell, which will have us responding with compassion and speed "WHAT? What NOW? Who did it? Stop right now!" something like that.
Imagine my husband's delight to find himself with the answer to our dilemma.
He has set up our rather natty wireless doorbell, IN THE TOILET!
When Isaac needs assistance, he merely has to ring the doorbell, the ringer part is plugged in downstairs, in the front room ..DING DONG! Marvellous.

You might well be able to keep up with the Joneses but let's face it....... we're just that bit further out of reach.

Say what?

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

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

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

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

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

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