I hate it when that happens.

I have a stiff neck. A sore, stiff neck, from tensing every muscle for hours and days at a time, I have panic attacks in my sleep and I woke up last night actually choking on stomach acid, life is a bowl of something, can't remember what though and it's probably best if I don't guess.
Actually whatever my deal is is almost certainly in my head because on the face of it, all is hunky dory. Obviously my head knows something the rest of me hasn't discovered yet because I am, quite frankly, a total cow at the moment.
I am jumpy and nervous and oh, I am so ANGRY.
The preparations for the party are going really well, we started early and so we can take our time and do things at our leisure, which is great isn't it? Well it would be but there is no school this week and so everything I do, there are 3 little boys here undoing it or 'helping' or not even pretending to help, they are HERE and they are touching and moving and dropping and breaking and losing and just TOUCHING. Oh the touching.
I know they are little boys and there are so many exciting things around, we don't do things by halves and so we have many, many props and decorations, I am 47 and when I look through the boxes I squeal and exclaim and I am so excited by the plans of what to do this year with everything, how much more exciting it must be for little boys and because we brought all the boxes down from the loft on monday there has been an enormous amount of touching and squealing and fighting with bloody plastic daggers and glow in the dark machetes.
Elijah seems to have a knack, oft mentioned before and as yet still not grown out of, of being able to merely walk into a room and have everything fall apart around him, Oh look! Eli is just standing there and yet all those decorations fell off the wall, whoops a drink is there and Eli is there and ...oh never mind, we'll clean it up.
H has been more quiet than ever this week, barely a word has passed his lips and all the while he is cleaning and tidying and doing all those dreary things that need doing even when there is a party to prepare for, he has cleaned cupboards, inside and out, he has cleared the yard and scrubbed it, he has worked and worked while I have fussed and shopped and fussed some more.
He won't touch a single thing to do with the party, until after the party when he will clean it all away and take down and pack up. He is splendid and worth having around I tell you.
This evening Jordan and Mel came around to help with all the high up stuff, I love to see how enthusiastic they are, I have grand ideas on what to do but when it comes to actually doing it, I feel all overwhelmed and weary, Jordan and Mel came over and they did everything I imagined and more and they were so excited and unweary. We did the hallway ( oh it looks so good!) we then went upstairs and started on Seth's room....it was late and I really just wanted to have Jordan put up the high stuff, the ceiling stuff, the boys escaped from the lounge and came upstairs, all 6 hands and 6 feet and 3 mouths and 30 fingers, we sent them back down explaining that tomorrow they could join in, Seth stayed behind and picked up the large blacklight and in seconds it smashed, all over the floor and with it so did my composure, patience, temper. In the most spectacular and horrifying way.
I often yell, no-one blinks or even takes much notice.
This evening was so much more than yelling, it was, well I don't even know what it was, apart from shameful and draining.
I hate it when that happens, it isn't even satisfying in that the tension is released because they dreadful feeling of shame fills the gap so perfectly.
H, bless his heart, came upstairs and quietly said " Ok, that's enough, let me move this out of your way" and took out the iMac that is in Seth's room ( wonder if he heard the smashing, followed by the screaming and thought I had smashed the lamp in my temper)
There is nothing that will stop a tantrum in it's tracks quicker than a quietly spoken, non judgemental word. Had H stormed in and started berating me for my totally unacceptable behaviour, he would have got a piece of it all for himself. The fact that he gently said " that's enough and let me move this out of your way" killed my outrage dead. I sat down on Seth's bed and just deflated, hypothetically that is, if only I had literally deflated too, shame things don't work out that way isn't it?
I slumped and I told Jordan and Mel that it was probably best if we left the rest for another day ( other days are becoming frighteningly scarce now though, will have to do a lot tomorrow!)
I have been sitting here all evening with my stiff and painful neck and feeling sorry for those who had to witness such a spectacle, Seth is unfazed by the whole episode, he's a tough nut that boy.
I shall take pictures when this house is all partified and ready, I shall take more pictures when it is filled to bursting with people and I shall breathe a sigh of relief when it is over and done for another year. I love that we do this every year, I also feel every year, right about this time, that I am completely out of my tiny mind for ever suggesting it!

Then sings my soul.....

Have you ever had that feeling? When your soul sings? Not just saying it, not just using the term to make a point but to actually have your very soul sing?
What a joy to have that feeling.
I witter on so often about how sad I can feel, how miserable my trials are, I can whine with the best of them and have been known to wallow in abject misery just because sometimes it is so easy to do that.
Sometimes, more often than I share, my soul can sing, it does sing.Today was one of those days. This week has been one of such contemplation for me, starting last week when I cried so much as I pondered on how I have made mistakes, how things could have been, but weren't. This week I have done things differently. In the short time I managed to stay in church last week, I heard one important lesson, one fact that could change how my life goes, how different my home can be. I heard that point and I thought about it, almost without thinking, I decided to try it.
We were told that as Mothers we can feel overwhelmed by how much there is to do, how huge our task can be and how often we feel that we simply aren't doing enough. Then the teacher said " How wrong we are, what we really need to do is LESS"


Imagine that, how so? How can we do LESS and yet win? How can doing LESS mean our homes are more efficient, more loving, more spiritual and calming?
Well, by listening to less of the world outside, less media, less noise, less rushing and trying to keep up with the Joneses. By leaving behind so much of the insane rushing and unimportant nonsense we have more room for what we truly need in our homes.
I tried that, I have taken my iPod with me in the car and listened to calming music, sweet music that touches my heart and leaves my ears alone! Music that gives me goosepimples and good tears. I have played the same music while I cook and clean.
I'm years behind H, who has adopted this plan for ever. I am slow on the uptake and also, stubborn, ain't no-one going to ever TELL me what to do ( not sure that anyone has ever tried apart from the rare occasions when H will sigh audibly and exude such a feeling of displeasure should I choose to watch some TV show like "Real housewives of Orange county / New York" for example and will mutter something like " what can anyone POSSIBLY be learning from watching these people?" )
H doesn't watch, listen to or read anything that he won't learn something from and he will never watch or listen to something that he wouldn't be comfortable watching with his children. He is such an example of how we can invite good and uplifting things into our lives and he is also someone who laughs when I tease him....an all round good bloke then.
By turning off some of the crazy that surrounds us, replacing it with calm...life changes.
I am, by nature, a somewhat irreverent being. I can find something to laugh at at most situations in life. I can joke about the most serious of subjects and it has taken me far, that talent has carried me through nightmarish times and made the worst moments bearable.
I can also be serious, when it matters.



Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, my words don't say it nearly as well as someone can sing it.
My soul sings because I love my Heavenly Father. Without the knowledge and faith that I have, I would not be.



"Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to thee, how great thou art, how great thou art."


Amen.

Probably...

Probably the best thing I ever learned in my many therapy sessions is this. People are going to hurt you, it's human existence, if we are, we will be hurt, it's unavoidable. We can only be damaged by that hurt however, if we allow ourselves to be.
I used to visit a therapist almost second hand, on behalf of the boys. When they were so fragile, so damaged and hurt they only ever spoke to me. You cannot take a child to a therapist and say " you have an hour, tell the nice lady everything that troubles you" It doesn't work that way.
My boys would behave like normal boys ( almost, sometimes) they were normal to me because I hadn't had any other 4 and 2 year old boys, I hadn't had 4 and 6 year olds, 0r 8 and 10 year olds so whatever they did was 'normal' to me.
Dan would line toys from his bed to the door every night, for 3 years, sharp toys, noisy toys, lego bricks ...every night I would go in and trip on them and tut and then pick them up, put them away. I never said anything, it was just what happened until after 3 years, when he was then 7, he said one morning " Mummy, every night I line toys up on the floor in my room so that if a stranger comes in, he will trip on them and wake me up and I will be able to scream and he won't hurt me anymore..every morning I wake up and they are gone....it is SO weird because I don't know where they go"
Gulp.
Jordan was never naughty, from the age of 23 months until he was 5 he was quiet and obedient, he sat still and he was good. Unless he couldn't see me and then he would scream, deafening screams until he could see me again. He came with me to the toilet, to bed, to eat, to shop, to church, to the kitchen, to the front door. That was because ( at the age of 2) he was told that he was BAD and that he was WICKED and that if his mummy or daddy ever found out how BAD he was...they would send him away.
Dear God.
Things would happen and I would deal with them and then, every monday I would go to see a child psychologist and would recount every sordid thing that had happened to my children. ( and for the record, I will never ever write them on this blog because there are so may freaks and perverts out there, you wouldn't believe what people google that brings them here, if I were to describe what happened and what they told me, I would be swamped by filthy child molesters) also..no-one wants or needs to know the details. ) I would tell her what they did/ said and what I did / said back and she would tell me that I did the right thing and what to do if A B or C happened.
Those boys would remember details of what had happened to them for 3 years, out of the blue, something would trigger a reaction that would make my blood run cold....in the store, at the park, at nursery school ( but only if I was there, if I wasn't there they would see 2 little boys who would sit on a chair and wait for me to collect them, Jordan started nursery in January and in October they wrote to me to say they had seen him smile and also that HUGE NEWS! He got off his chair and picked up a book and then she sat back down again and held the book until I came to get him) Suddenly they would scream a blood curdling scream and then the verbal diarrhea would begin....streams and streams of unpunctuated vomiting of 'oh and thens' they would remember and they would tell me and then, as quickly as it began, they would stop. FLICK. Over, back to playing and being a regular kid again. Wherever we were I would have to stop and wait, listen to every single word and then I would do whatever seemed right at the time.
One day I went to see the shrink with all the answers and whined for 30 minutes about how totally useless the first one was. I cried about how he let the kids down, how he didn't turn up, how he would constantly disappoint me as a father.
She listened ( so patiently, honestly therapy is the best they can't tell you to shut up, they are paid to listen, heaven!) and then she said the one thing I needed to hear, the thing that I have remembered and used and tested and used again and it has never, ever let me down. Not once, in 19 years.
She said "Helen, he can only disappoint you if you expect more than he is capable of delivering. Stop expecting anything and you will never be disappointed again. He isn't letting you or the children down, he isn't capable of being what you wish he would be. He CAN'T do it or be it. Let him off the hook"
Oh my goodness. It works, it REALLY works. Stop wishing people would be or do or say anything particular, just accept people are human and enjoy what they DO bring to your life. It is quite honestly the single most valuable piece of advice I have ever been given in my life.
From that moment whatever the first one did, or didn't do I would look at him and say to myself " well of COURSE he did/n't do that, it's what he is, it is all he is capable of" if perchance he did anything that was splendid ( and surely to Betsy in 19 years he must have, mustn't he? I can't recall specifics but no-one can be totally useless for that long can they?) I would accept it as a marvellous miracle and tell myself how splendid that was ..and remind myself that it was sure to be a one off and not wait with baited breath for it to happen again!
Throughout my life I have used that advice and it truly takes the pain out of feeling let down.
Rather like the lady who after having been married for 75 years, answered the question "what is your secret" by saying " It's as simple as this, you get married and you decide that he may have 3 irritating habits, when he annoys you , look at him and say " He's allowed that one, that's one of his three" and you let it go.
"How wonderful! And what are the three annoying habits that you allow your husband?"
"Oh you see, that's the secret...you never actually decide that. Every time he annoys you, you just tell yourself that it IS one of his three and you let it go."
There is something so wonderful, so liberating in letting it go. All the stewing and festering never does hurt the one you are angry at. They are likely to be having a rare old time not even giving you a second thought whilst you are giving yourself an ulcer fretting over what you can't change.
Let it go. It feels great.
I had some lovely emails, comments, instant messages and phone calls last night after my blog post. I am so lucky to have such lovely friends and they were so concerned, what I want to say is, I learned so well how to let it go. I really have, I needed to write that blog and I needed to say what I felt and I did and then I was better, honestly I am.
No-one needs to choose and nobody needs to worry that I am still sad. I'm not. I made a decision and it was absolutely the right one for me. No-one needs to leave a lovely group to show me solidarity, I know you love me, we have our own places to be and meet, all is very well in my neck of the woods and trust me when I say that I really have let it go.
Probably the best feeling in the world.

That'll do for me.

My goodness, what a few days. I discovered that I am always going to be faced with demons. I keep telling myself that I am BETTER...look at me, all well, not a care in the world...yeay!
That's great because I am feeling that way more and more. I do know though that there will be times when things don't feel OK. What I have to work out is how to deal with it.
The little boys are getting bigger, really quickly. It seems every day they grow more, they want more independence, they are leaning more.
H is a great dad to these little people, he seems to know what they need when they need it. Bit by bit he is allowing them more independence, little things, allowing seth to run ahead on the last stretch of the school run. wow, big boy ( Oh Dear God, what if, in those 2 seconds someone is in a car right at the 'right' moment and they snatch him and then ....)
He lets them go around the corner to retrieve that lost ball, wow big boys ( Oh, oh but what if there is a pedophile that lives in that house on the corner or a workman with a white van waiting to grab him and take him away and never bring him back)
Tag rugby tournaments after school...wow, grown up, sporty boy ( but I don't know who else will be there and what if they actually hurt him and do unmentionable things to him while we are sitting at home thinking how great it is that he is so into these things?)
Every morning, instead of going back to bed, I make myself busy, laundry, cleaning, moving things, moving things back again...so that I see H come home and behave normally and then I know that no-one got lost in those 3 seconds, no-one was snatched and damaged, no-one is dead. Phew.
For a while there I was way back when, reliving how terrible it was to be rehashing and what if-ing, blaming and loathing, remembering how bad it feels to know that while your child was being abducted and abused, well you had no idea, you were going about your business as if there wasn't a care in the world ( and in fact I was at the hospital having a 10cm wound reopened, but what they hey, still had no idea what was happening to those boys.
Right back in 1990 hearing word for word what happened while I was oblivious. Remembering exactly how it felt to know that this was real, nothing could undo it, nothing I did stopped it. I was so careful, so cautious, so totally determined to do it all right, even doing everything I could....I didn't keep them safe ( and yes, I do know that actually, because I was at the hospital and I wasn't the one that put them outside...blah blah....none of that matters when the demons take over) So what control do I have now? With these children?
That has been my last week. Frozen anxiety attacks, unable to move or do anything but cry, very quietly so no-one sees. I can't let anyone see because they can't help, if they try and get it wrong...much worse, so all done so quietly. just to release that terrible hurt and then on we go.
Then, yesterday I got that video and can't you just see how my mum and dad were with us, look how gently they carry us and look at us, we were so precious and I knew, as I looked at that chunky little girl that was me, that I was so adored, so cherished and I still am.
At 6, my house was filled with people that are mine, huge big men people, little noisy boy people, grandbaby, big happy, well girl. Mine.
The front room was filled to bursting, bodies everywhere and in the middle, a chunky baby, with a face so alight with joy it was impossible to not feel it....he was so thrilled to be surrounded by all these big people, the noise was unbelievable and I looked at them and I saw just how happy these people are, I listened and I was overwhelmed by what I have now. What enormous treasure there is right here.
As quick as lightening all those terrible feelings went away. We can't change what will be, we can't alter what has already been, we just have what is, right now.
I'm sure that for always, I will have flashbacks to way back when, I hope that I can always do what I did this time, deal with it the way it works for me, when it's over explain to H why I was the way I was, bask in his calm back patting and thrive on the fact that right now...things are alright.
I have a flight to get through and only 10 days until Sophie and I have 6 days of fun and memories.
I took pictures today, of the loud ones and the littlest boy with the biggest smile....when I can get on H's laptop, if I can work out how to do it, I will post some. Priceless.

OK. so here they are, touble is...well you'll see, if you ( or I ) were hoping for beautiful posed pictures, you know, with gleaming smiles and tidy hair, everyone looking in the same direction....well good luck with that!
Take for instance, my saying " don't just all sit there...DO something!" You'd think I would know by now......wouldn't you?



but the laughing....there is so much of that, give me that over perfect smiles and tidy hair.

At least I got one picture of beauty, one of people looking serene and..... I didn't give birth to either of them.

6 days?? Are you sure?

I've been home 6 days, is that all? Truly? It seems so long ago, all that laughing and shopping and taking naps and then laughing and shopping some more.
I have had the hardest time since I got home. I thought it was jet lag...and indeed it may be, then the stomach flu, all that aching, weariness, oh such weariness of heavy head, burning eyes variety. The little boys puking again ( and the unfairness of that is being exclaimed very loudly I can tell you!) Then I thought maybe I was just sad that the excitement was over.....whatever what in the world is going on?? I simply cannot wake up, when I absolutely have to wake up, I do so with such dragging slowness and my eyes hurt and my legs ache and oh my goooooodness....why?
All that in 6 days?
Also, the owner of the restaurant where both Jordan and Sophie work has declared bankruptcy, they are shutting down, worrisome but not the end of the world ( unless I am just too tired to worry enough!)
I have had time with the most glorious baby,







But not enough time, never enough time with that chunky lump of deliciousness.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, time is dragging by, waking up, wishing I didn't wake up, going to sleep again.
I don't feel depressed but who knows what that feels like, seems to me I have had so many variations of depression, anything goes.
I just feel tired. Unbelievably and painfully tired.
H is feeling the same way so maybe it's a virus or the weather or ( or living with me) or something. Torrential rain, day after day will make the sunniest of souls feel weary and unable to function. The 10 day forecast shows nothing but this rain and grey skies, storms and more rain....we had such a bleak summer last year, how unfair to see the same kind of weather again.
I did get a lovely hot day in Boston, really hot and sunny on the sunday, when I arrived on the friday there was a storm and rain that was very like home, saturday was perfect for the tour and walking, overcast but warm and DEAR LIFE I am writing about the WEATHER , somebody stop me before all is lost! Any minute now I shall start telling you about my bowels and then someone shoot me.
I have missed any post Boston chats, whether that is because there hasn't been any or because I am asleep I don't know but coming home has been a cold turkey withdrawal of fun and excitement, from all to nothing. Just nothing. Except puke and laundry..whoot.
There, I wrote my blog, aren't you glad about that?
Oh...people have asked me where I met the Boston ladies...I met them on a site called Babyzone.
Go to Babyzone.com, find the message boards( under community) look for Hot Topics, next to that you will see 'click for more' see Not so Hot.....that's where we hang out. Check it out, Say Helen sent you, make some friends, you don't need babies, all sorts of women hang out there. Its great! Who knows, maybe we can get some more English people there and we can have some more get togethers without having to fly, imagine that! They are very friendly and welcoming and it is always somewhere to go if you feel at a loss as to what to do.
In fact, I am headed there when I have had a shower and put my comfy PJs on, see you there, I dare you!

The to-ing and fro-ing.

So, the biggest and most frightening part of the trip to Boston ( that I am, can you tell, reluctant to let go of or stop talking about yet) was the travelling part. Flying, I hate it. I can't quite put my finger on why I hate it so, I loathe that feeling of being shut in and trapped, unable to leave, stay right there lady, we'll let you off when WE let you off. I hate that. I do.
I caught a bus to Heathrow airport on thursday and stayed the night in Nana's feather bed, which is very old...my dad was born in it, in fact he was conceived in it and it is was it was way back when.
I so want to hate the very thought of sleeping in that bed but , no kidding, it is so comfy....so I sort of slept, in between jumping awake and thinking about the flight. 5am I was up and dressed and ready, to off we went, that meant I was at the airport by 7am....my flight was at 10.55, I had much time to fill.
I was remarkably calm, for me, at an airport. I was very impressed and thought that maybe my diazepam ( shall we call it Pam, in a friendly way, because I do feel friendly towards it/her) might not be needed.
I filled time with browsing in the shops, I bought tweezers because I knew a big old black wiry hair was sure to shoot out on my chin right before I landed in Boston ( ha! foiled that bugger all right!) I bought some magazines and I was ready. As I would ever be.
I stayed calm and all sort of well travelled and would you look at ME about to jet off to Boston right up until I went into the departure lounge, where I became a shivering and quivering wreck. I was given an aisle seat so that I could escape and not feel trapped ( escape to where exactly? Who knows, I just knew it helped to know I could just get up and not have to climb over anyone)
I sat still in a my seat and wondered if I was about to die from the fear, I texted Jordan and asked myself a thousand times why I was doing this, what makes me battle my fears in such a colossal way? Other people who are afraid of life, go for a walk and tell themselves how brave they are, maybe they just stay at home and say 'what the hell?' Why then, do I feel the need to make myself do these things that terrify me so much?
After 20 minutes of such terror I decided that , look, lovely Dr gave me Pam, for just this purpose, so take one, do it.....help yourself. So I did.
Hmmmmmm, time to board, on we went, I found my seat and was relatively happy, sat down, buckled up and ........

.........I woke up when dinner was served! I slept through the taxi-ing, through the whole take off, and when dinner was served I woke up. Only I could do that I think, sleep through the entire shaking and being thrown back in your seat, the roaring of engines and gathering speed...and wake as soon as a whiff of food is in the air. I love Pam.

Coming home promised to be even better, a night flight meant that I got to take Pam AND my regular night time meds....hell I should have slept through til we landed.
I was just as afraid of the journey home, I tried not to whine about it too much but I could feel myself being quiet and worried.
I knew my bags would be too heavy but thankfully grandpa had put some money in my account and I knew that would cover the excess charges. I packed as well as I could, wonderful Cathy has some things that just wouldn't fit and is shipping them over for me, off we went to the airport.
I didn't think I would cry when I left but I did. Not sobbing old meltdowns but a definite filling up of weepy eyes. It's such a long way...we can't just pop over and see each other, we can't all just call and meet for lunch...this was it, who knows when we will be in the same place again, if ever. Who could not cry?
I had to pay $100 excess AND remove some bits and bobs from one of the cases, those checked in and I was left with a very heavy carry on, filled to bursting but luckily never weighed. I went through security, put my bags and phone etc through the X-ray machine and "Ma'am! You appear to have a large liquid container in your bag"
"Oh, no, I think I have gummy bear vitamins but no liquid"
"Ma'am, you do, a LARGE liquid container...."
"Oh..OH..it's maple syrup, my friend from Canad bought it for me and I didn't want it to break and I thought it would be safe in that bag and I wasn't thinking and I didn't think...oh I am so sorry!! Let me get it ..."
"STEP AWAY FROM THE BAG MA'AM!! do NOT touch the bag....."
How on earth do people smuggle drugs or dangerous things? How do they not sweat into a melting puddle? I was a complete wreck and it was maple syrup for heavens sake, that they kept...and let me go, phew, no lock up or 'Brits banged up abroad' episodes on my behalf.
The flight was great, less than 6 hours and I must have slept through a good bit of it ( though not dinner of course, never that!)
Arrived in London just after 6am and had to wait til 8.40am for a bus.
Hoorah, at last here we are a big old double decker bus, with tables. I got my seat and was pleased that I had a table all to myself.
For about 10 minutes. Then I was joined by a couple, in their 30's. They were obviously special needs and they sat opposite me across the table.
The man was fidgety and suddenly started to say
" I'm going to be sick, I am, I AM, I will be SICK...won't I? I really will be sick.....Can I sit with you?"
As he looked at me.
Oh my goodness, what to say? What DO you say if someone tells you over and over that they will certainly be sick and then ask if they can sit with you.
I said that maybe there were seats upstairs that were forward facing.
"Oh no, I can't do stairs, don't like stairs, can't do stairs, I don't go upstairs, I can't can I?" He said to his wife.
"No, you can't" she said and then she looked at me and said " He's disabled"
" Believe it or not" he said.
I did believe it, bless his heart.
My legs, by the time I got home were like puffy old lady ankles. So swollen I could hardly stop staring at them.
Jet lag has been a killer but I think on top of that is a sadness, such an empty sort of sadness because it's over, we have had months of preparing and getting ready with such anticipation and now it's done.
While I was away, I was so overwhelmed with love for H, who was so incredibly supportive, so excited for me, so uncomplaining and gentle about the whole trip and here I was, in HIS home country, doing all the things he loves, everywhere we went I imagined how he would love it, I chose food he would enjoy to eat, I made myself remember tiny details to tell him and I knew that I would probably never do this again.
I wish I could explain why I don't think I will, not on my own anyway, I think it's because it was such a treat, such a huge deal for us, we don't have the means to up and away like that too often, to do something of this scale means something else has to go, once is OK, now I have to do things that we need as a family. This house needs work, my car is maybe not going to last too long, there are many things that we can do with our money that will benefit our whole family.
We never know what the future will bring and perhaps it will be possible, I do know that for now I have to work on this house. I look forward to doing it too.
I have slept an incredible amount since I got home, really almost embarassingly long stretches of sleep, short periods of wakefulness and more sleep. I thought it was jet lag and I am sure much of it is....but I think it's sadness mixed in as well.
The boys, can you believe have yet another stomach bug, puking and crying..this time it seems to be a 24 hour thing, Isaac's turn tonight, Seths was yesterday and Eli the day before. I hope that's that. We have scrubbed and cleaned and shampooed the carpets and whoops...here we go again. Ack. Stinks.
I babysat for the big old chunky Joshua tonight, such a big boy already. When H has reloaded my photo shop programme I will download some pictures I took , he is spendid indeed.
I think I have written all I need to write about Boston, that really makes it over. Sad that is.

Well, I wasn't ready for THAT!

Well, well, some unexpected emotions have been making themselves most unwelcome today. I have no idea where they came from, am completely aware that they are ridiculous apart from the fact that at the time, they were very real. So real in fact that I wept copious amounts of stinging tears.
The whole experience of becoming a grandmother has been extraordinarily powerful, I had no idea that I would feel so strongly about this little scrap who is only mine in a second hand way. Once removed. From a distance.
The mothering instinct doesn't leave when your child has a child. I want my son to enjoy every positive and blissful second of being a father. I want him to excel in as many ways as is possible in the raising of this precious boy.
There are so many ways in which Joshua, should he following his fathers footsteps, will be the most glorious man. What better start is there for a boy than to have a father he should emulate?
Jordan is young and he hasn't had a particularly good role model for a father. His dad has loved him but has been ineffectual, he has stumbled at every single important hurdle. Luckily, the effect that this has had on Jordan is to make him determined to be different. Phew. Take a deep breath.
Jordan has faced some nightmares in his life that most young men don't face. He beat them, he is a good man. He is also very young.
I have watched him work, climb his chosen career ladder, I see people gravitate towards him and I feel enormous pride that I did so much of that. I know that he is who he is, I also know that I raised him from 23 months until he was 12 on my own. Through unbelievable circumstances.
He is a wonderful man, I am breathtakingly thrilled with how he is with his tiny son.
What I am trying to say in my long winded way, is that I still feel so much the mother, not just to him but to Mel and I am so grateful to be able to help them in the ways I can. H, as always is so gentle and accommodating, staying here with the squitty bum boys ( and raise a hand in gratitude to Joshua because without his being born, you so would have had daily and detailed account of how often and how violently these 3 boys have expelled their bodily contents over the past FOURTEEN DAYS, enough said) while I swan off to go to reflexology appointments, to go and walk with Mel, to run here and there, to see my grandson born, to kiss him, bath him, go shopping.
I don't feel the mother to Joshua, what I feel for him is something so new, I have yet to work out how it works. I want to give him the sun, moon and earth and I want to wrap it nicely.
I knew that I would love the fact that the nitty gritty is not my worry, I am so done with teething and night feeds, bulky great nappy bags, folding pushchairs up and down and all that malarkey.
So onto the bit that hit me in the heart and head today.
The first one has been to visit, big deal. We all know that this is a happy little blip in hi sself centred life, ooooh grandbaby, must visit and make a fuss, have fun and grasp the moment and then fizzle off into the distance while I continue my quest for happiness, must find happiness for ME, grandbaby is cute but must keep on keeping on doing what is needed for ME.
Whoppidoo. So why was my stupid heart and head so sad that fizzy grandad gave silver things and presents, a wad of cash and a big gesture? Beats me, but it did. A lot.
Mels mum is here, from Turkey, also buying presents and toys and stuff and more stuff. She is the other Nana. I want to be Nana but darn it if I can't quite make myself say it and when I open my mouth I hear myself saying " Let gramma get you a squeeze!" Gramma? That's my MUM! Who's gramma?? Oh well, we will see. Anyway, the thing is, I found myself snot crying in the kitchen to a bewildered H. Snot crying without any punctuation at all ( but will add some, just to make it easier to share)
"oh I know I am stupid and I know what I CAN give is so much more important and actually I remember my mum crying about this and I thought she was CRAZY but the thing is they are all buying him stuff and giving him hundreds of pounds for his bank account and toys and more stuff and I spent all our money on reflexology and petrol and knickers and newspapers and Lucozade so Mel would have energy to push and parking and lunch and more oils and more parking and boring stuff like chewing gum so I wouldn't breathe smelly breath on Mel when I was whispering to her to push harder and now I have no money for silver things and toys but wait til I go to Boston, he is getting stuff no-one else can buy because Argos? Stuff Argos! I am going to Boston and Cathy has Ralph Lauren stuff for him but I didn't buy that but she is my friend and so its sort of because of me and Jenn has a tiny little basketball kit for him and everyone loves him so I know this is all so stupid but WHY CAN'T I STOP CRYING?? The other Nana is going out tonight so I am going to get me a fix and give him a bath and that will be lovely won't it?"
And guess what, I did and it was.
It was bath time and you know that feeling when you are new at something and you know it needs doing but you are a bit scared to do it? That's bathtime at Joshuas house.
"He needs a bath but he hates it and I really wish I didn't have to do it because he really hates it but he needs it" said Mel ( who is English and hasn't heard that in America you don't bath a baby when it still has a cord, or that if you do it might all end terribly because we are in England and horror of horrors we DO give teeny tiny babies baths and wash off all the stinky old milk and pee and stuff. And guess what? Nothing. Sweet smelling babies with everything still working and the sky doesn't fall in, imagine that!)
So, oooh let me at him, can I do it? And Jordan came too.
Big bath with one of those impressive shaped hard plastic contraptions that support the baby. Right.
So I shoved that out of the way and I lay him in the water, hand under his head, he was screaming until I put the plam of his hand under the warm water. It is like magic. Enough water to cover him sufficiently to keep him warm, head and ears above the water and a firm grip, put that palm under the water and miracle of miracles the screaming will stop, those tightly screwed eyes will open and a look of such bliss you just know life is really alright.
Jordan stopped dead in his tracks, he called Mel...
"what? No screaming so I know he isn't in there yet and Oh would you look at you .."
"She just put his hand under the water and let him hold her finger...LOOK, oh mate, Nana really knows!"
Yes, she does and you know what? There isn't a silver certificate holder that can hold a candle to what Nana knows. Is there?
And for your enjoyment would you see what else Nana did?


( tiniest of teeny feet, be still my heart!)


Itty bitty finger nails.



*sigh*

WHO'S THE NANA?? Huh?

well, whad'ya know?

It all went hopelessly wrong! Jordan called to say that one of the chefs walked out of a sister restaurant so he had to go and fill in there, landlady called to say that 'oh dear, promised van and man were no longer available, I found an alternative van and driver....she said it was a bit pricey ( £100?!?!?) and maybe we should hire a van? " good idea, said I ...are you happy to drive it for us?" Suddenly my plan was sounding good!
Then that van fell through.......arses to it all.
2am I had the mother of all breakdowns and hissy fits, all upon my own which was such a waste because it was a splendid example of hysteria if ever I managed one. No matter, managed to have another mini one in front of mum at 9am.
H and I spent most of the day at the new house, mum had Eli ( thankyou thankyou) and Dan entertained the other 2 ( oh joy, heaven, all day being able to get things done and no fighting, bored little people, no having to stop and feed people or get drinks, just doing what we needed to do.
At 3am today I decided that I was being ridiculous, that this whole depression about the smell and the hated bathroom was something I had to get a grip on and do something about, so I did. At 8.45 I left the house I bought a large piece of beautiful, brand new linoleum. When Eli was dropped off safely and the boys were out with Dan I shut myself in that formerly detested and afeared bathroom and I transformed it, having scrubbed until I was about ready to wear through to the kitchen, I knew it was clean but that dark grey, worn lino with it's cracks and curly edges.....shudder.
I painted the walls a beautiful clean pale yellow, I cut and fitted that heavenly floor covering and I put up pictures, also a huge pine mirror. I sat ON THE FLOOR next to THE toilet, which smells lovely and is sparkly and clean and oh so ready for me to sit on and not jitter or fidget. I wept with the sheer relief at having a bathroom that is lovely to be in, with shower and clean shiny bath, and I got to do the hands on hips I am just about as bloody brilliant as it is possible to be dance. Twice.
The boys rooms are cosy and ready for mattresses to be plopped on top of bases, pictures on walls ( newly painted walls in Seth's room, thankyou H)
The little dining area is looking a bit pretty and sort of diner-ish, the kitchen is clean but sort of ( or very) disorganised, the front room ( which actually is the back room and should be called the sitting room in this house ) is ready for finishing touches. On the wall is the most enormous funky picture, all abstract and not at all my cup of tea....but the colours work in a surprising way and I find that I kind of like it.
I can't help but think of what the estate agents will think when they see it, they saw it when it was full of junk and as filthy as a house can possibly be. The landlady saw it when it was clean and had curtains up but hasn't seen it now. I want her to see it tomorrow with our furniture in and our spirit there.
I am weak with a feeling of comfort and peace.
I think the bad has gone.
There is still one room that needs some loving, we are using it as a store room and for now I can cope with just running in and getting what I need and getting out again. As we empty the room I will be more inclined to face it and rid it of whatever is making it such a miserable place.
I think I might be more muddled than usual this time, not quite sure what is where and might have to stand staring into space trying to remember what box/bag/pile things might be in more than usual ( heaven help us all!!) Only one room is crazy though, not bad going! I am looking forward to taking pictures to share though because I have been such a blasted misery about it and because it has taken so long for me to not hate it, never mind like it.......before we left tonight, I walked around on my own and almost felt excited, when I realised that I was actually barefoot and had walked right though the house ( with the exception of dogshit room, sorry to say shit, pooh is unpleasant but not nearly as unpleasant as shit and this room smells like shit ( said it 4 times, that must tell you something!) well I knew then that I had cracked through the barriers and would be able to live there and not die of misery!
I am pretty sure the smell is in my imagination but whether that is the case or not, when that room is empty that carpet is getting ripped out, then I will KNOW it is in my head. I will replace that carpet and cost be damned because I cannot stand the way the thought of what could be on it is making me insane. I don't care how many people tell me they can't smell it, I can.
So, I do believe it will be alright. For 3 months, time goes so quickly I am going to have to force myself to just enjoy a week or two before I start fretting about the next move. Just take a breather, enjoy the good bits, ignore the bad........I can do it, I can.
Pictures on thursday if we get the internet all set up and working. And if I still have strength in my fingers and can see straight and stuff.

Another day, another holler.

I am busy. So busy. But we are getting there.
I had a friend come to the next house to help clean yesterday and she said " oh, it's not too bad" which was like a big old pat on the back for me because it told me that I must have made huge strides in the filth and grime that is our next home.
I keep thinking about how well we are doing and then I remember that we have to pack this one and clean this one and get everything over to the next one and that then, in 3 months we will have to do it all again and I. am. so. tired.
I have been so touched by the calls offering help though, hard to accept but I am saying yes and inviting people to scrub and wash and laugh and help.
The shower is all gleaming and shiny, I thought we may have to smash those tiles and redo it, I thought I might have to ditch that stove but no, my elbow grease has worked marvels and I can almost imagine taking a shower and having a wee in that bathroom....but not yet!
Every day I bleach the toilet again and spray it with anti-bacterial spray and tell myself how clean it is, my mind won't let go of how filthy it was though...I have to either get over that or accept that I will have to squat behind a tree in the garden because in 2 weeks time that will be our home. We won't be here in this lovely airy and clean house anymore, once again my heart aches a bit ( literally, ouch, chest pains, scary things)
I am overwhelmed with so many emotions, mostly cross ones and sad ones, some thankful ones and many resigned ones, I think there may be the odd hopeful one hidden in there somewhere.
I stopped the new meds, I know it has only been a week but the sweating, oh that damn sweating, I can't bear it and as I stood and walked across the room yesterday and I dripped with sweat and my hair was stuck to my head I remembered that this was the very medication that I have already been weaned from because of the awful side effects. Then they put me on the one that sort of worked but still made me sweat. No more. I have to be able to work out a way to be well without putting my body through this misery.
I absolutely am all for medication that helps, when it makes you feel just as ill with the side effects, well for heaven's sake, what is the point?
Day by dad seems to be the way to go, just get through one day at a time, fixing what needs to be fixed, enjoying what needs to be enjoyed and then get up and do it all over again the next day.
Sophie is doing well, we say that quietly and enjoy every happy phone call. Dan is splendid, Jordan is happy, Seth is nearly 7, Isaac is chatty, Elijah is a divine whirling mass of sparkle, flip fops and noise, H is steady and gentle....things aren't at all terrible. Just busy.
My sister and her husband just finished building a house, all by themselves...wanna see it?



would you just look at that beauty. I know they must feel enormous satisfaction, every stone and inch of plaster done by the sweat of their own brows...amazing and I am thrilled for them. I am sure that I could never build my own home, I am way too impatient, I want it all right there, where I can see it and touch it and live in it right now!
They live in Utah, so although I am pleased for them there is no envy because I would rather live here in a rented home than have a mansion anywhere else. I love where I am, I belong here and couldn't leave again.
Jane is coming home next month, I haven't seen her or those little girlies since last march when dad died, I miss her and can't wait to see her again.
So, another day done, tomorrow we start all over again. Lucky us.

Rough start.

Today was a rough one to begin with ( still only 11.35am and the day seems long ahead of me!)
So much has changed in the past few weeks that today it slammed in on me. Much of it has been good change, much of it scary, more leaves me with that dreaded feeling of being absolutely and completely out of control.
When I manage to stop myself imagining the worst I can see quite clearly that this isn't terrible. I am in control, mostly!
This whole moving thing could turn out to be the making of us, I can see enormous chances for growth and the possibility of making it work very well for our family.
The opportunities are endless. I have seen, without our having planned it, just what H and I are capable of. I have learned some fascinating facts about us, seen quite clearly that we have strengths we didn't know we had. Cool.
I can see that we could almost make a business out of what we have learned lately.
How many empty properties are there that could use some TLC and some kerbside tittivating? I wonder how many buildings are sitting unloved and perhaps filled with junk that could be cleared, cleaned, loved and sold?
How many jungle like gardens could use some tidying and clearing to make the properties look more appealing?
Whenever we move out of a house we have rented the landlord will make a comment about how the stove is cleaner than they have ever seen it, how the carpets look great ( not in our last house though, ack those were BAD carpets!!) So many opportunities, for now just ideas but maybe not for long.
I am clueless to the world of self employment. I am intrigued and feel sure that there is a market out there for things H and I excel at. The boys are growing, in January, Eli will be at school full time ( can you believe that??)
My head works in such a way that to be tied down to certain times and days and expectations is so frightening to me that I can't imagine it ever happening. I am so afraid of letting people down that it happens because my fears paralyse me. As long as I feel I am doing something because I choose to, I am able to do it, as soon as I feel obligated I fail. Most people are like that to a degree aren't they? Something that is hinged on my choices, my control and my talents is enormously appealing to me. Is it possible? I think so.
I snot cried for too long this morning. I feel a bit precious and in need of some gentle, never going to come from H, loving support. A fair bit of ego pumping and some brow stroking would be heaven. H has many great qualities, pampering to my girlie weaknesses is never going to be among them.
Crying is alien to H, he doesn't get it, can't understand it and the very idea that he could put a stop to it quickly by putting his arms around me and saying it will be OK, well........give us a shout when those pigs fly! He sort of hrumphs and tuts and shuffles awkwardly, mutters about my being unreasonable and wonders almost aloud about how I can have come to such bizarre and grossly exaggerated conclusions.
The Lord knows what he is doing and by giving H sons I think was a good move, apart from the fact that he is showing his sons that emotions are ridiculous and big boys don't cry etc. Luckily they have mothers who aren't a bit afraid of kissing them soundly in the middle of the street and loudly proclaiming undying love at the school gates, all evens out in the end we hope.
H is building a website, a very cool one that has obviously taken enormous amounts of work. He mentioned it in passing a little while ago and then when it came time to set it up and make it real he told me a little bit more ( and asked for the bank card to pay for it) check it out, maybe it won't appeal to too many as it is a church based site, but even if the subject isn't of your choosing you can see how good it is and what work has gone into it.
" WOW!" said I , with genuine interest and wifely pride" how long has this taken to build?"
" hard to say" was his reply. This is how our lives go, you know, me trying to talk and share things, him trying desperately not to give anything away or have me fawn over him.
Wall, head and much banging.
Mostly we are happy, sometimes I long for some romance or some communication or something. I pointed out a handsome young man carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers on friday. " LOOK! Some men do that you know, buy flowers and pretty things for the women in their lives" ( as opposed to kneeling pads and anti wrinkle capsules from the dollar store)
" hmmmmm" he replied, with puzzled expression on his face " he looks like he is on his way to the cemetery"
*SIGH*
I hate it when he asks the boys " WHY ARE YOU CRYING?? QUIT CRYING!" I will point out that they are crying because they are sad, frustrated, angry etc
and are quite within their rights to weep.
"well how does THAT help??"
How do you explain feelings of the heart to someone who doesn't feel much emotion ( although I did see him well up when we finished a particularly delicious lamb roast once, when his children were born...not a flicker) I imagine it must be akin to my feelings the sight of an iPod or iPhone, I don't get it, whats all the fuss? Why do people care about those things? What? Ppptttttttttth. Mamby pamby emotions and all that stuff.
We are Jack Sprat and his wife, opposites and the same all at once. I feel like I bend to his choosing way more than he does to mine, he feels he lives by my rule more than I do to his. My suffering is greater than yours. Na na na na na.
the thing is, when push comes to shove I am pretty sure neither of us would change very much about what we have, who we are and where we are headed. More kissing would be on my list, less talking would be on his. ( which actually works, if he were kissing me, how could I talk???)
So, crying stopped for a while, thank heavens, how much more puffy could my nose and eyes stand to be?
I do appreciate those of you that tell me I am ( insert pretty much any positive word here) I feel as though I am endlessly whining and really I don't mean to, because things are really pretty good for us.
We are considerably poorer at the moment, £480 a month poorer actually. Even with that, we are calmer than we have been for a long time. It will take some getting used to, our new budget, we can do it though and we will do it. I have a feeling that changes are coming that will mean a whole new life for us. You'll be the first to know when they happen.

And Seth's tale....

The Sporty Boy and the Lazy Mother

Once upon a time, there lived a sporty boy named Michael Jordan. And his mother, Mrs. Wright, and she was even lazier than a fat pot-belly pig. And Michael was always treated like a slave. He made lunch, dinner, and breakfast. He was always working even though he’s only three years old. He couldn’t have a one second rest. But when he was fourteen he worked until Wednesday and the day after Wednesday he said “mother, please will you try and lose 18 pounds, because you are really lazy.”
His mother said “if you don’t like working you can do anything you like, but you have to let me tidy up.” So he went up stairs he made a giant mess. He grabbed his basketball and went to his mother and told her that he couldn’t find his ball, but now I found it. Then he went outside and his mother tidied up the mess in his bedroom. Then went to play some sports with Michael after lunch Michael’s mother said “can I play sports with you.” Michael said “yes, you can!”
So they lived happily ever after.
The End

What does THIS tell us? Honestly, he could really hurt a mothers tender heart if she didn't understand that his asperger brain tells him that a mother who doesn't do anything that is important to him, doesn't actually have much worth. What use is a person who just cleans and shops and does laundry if she doesn't play basketball? None at all. He doesn't have any of those smooshy heart feelings, you know, darned emotions that get in the way of everything. He likes me stroking his face at bedtime and appreciates that but I think, in reality that he would scarcely notice if I wasn't here.
We are working on how people's feelings are hurt when we voice opinions like
" why are YOU here? I don't want to see you" or " why do I need you when I have my dad?" He is always so mortified when we point out that he HAS hurt my feelings, he cannot understand why the simple truth can make me feel sad. To him, it is a fact that his dad fulfills all his needs, I am just here for the ride.
He functions so much easier in the world than Isaac but emotionally, Isaac is more in tune with how people feel. If someone falls over and Seth sees, he will be quick to tell them how they could have avoided such a calamity, " should look where you're going then shouldn't you?" or " well, why did you climb uo there then?" he really thinks he is being helpful, it doesn't occur to him that comfort or sympathy might be nice.
When I had a particularly bad case of hives once, when I was covered in blistering welts, Isaac stroked my leg and gave me his blanket to hold, Seth glanced sideways and said " don't scratch it then."
I'm not too sure what, if anything, can be done to help him be more compassionate, whether it is possible to teach someone to 'feel' emotions. H is very unemotional, if I cry he looks like a deer in headlights, I long gave up on longing for romance or whispered sweet nothings. Seth is his son, with bells on.
If we ask Seth to turn on a lamp..he will spend 1o minutes explaining ( whining) about he has to do everything in this house, how he is basically a slave, I think he actually believes it. His story tells how he works like a slave....until Wednesday.
I have made him sound like a monster in this post and he really isn't, he has the most incredible sense of humour, he is bright and delighful, polite and pleasant ( usually) he just doesn't get emotions, I hope he can learn about them because they are so what makes life happy.
I have lost 10lbs, only 8 to go then. If I play basketball with him tomorrow maybe we will live happily ever after, what d'ya reckon?
We can collect the house keys tomorrow and start moving boxes etc over ...H is going to work on the garden ( which is waist high now) maybe he should take Seth and show him what real hard work is, while lazy mother stays here and does nothing.
The End.