Well, fancy that. ( and some pictures for good measure!)

So, sometimes, I will think something, which leads to another thought, which then leads to a light bulb moment of dazzling understanding. I had one of those yesterday, I like those moments, when I understand myself a bit better.
For the longest time I have had problems with seeing men wearing suits, driving posh cars. When I see one of these men, I feel a sad sort of longing, as though THAT'S what I want, a man with a great job and a flash car ...that feeling is swiftly followed by feelings of such shame and embarrassment that I feel as if I should skuttle off and find a cosy rock to crawl under. I had no idea why I felt that way because, whilst I like nice things, they really don't mean enough for me to sacrifice what we have in order to chase after them. A choice between a flash car and having H right here, doing what he does with our boys isn't actually even a choice, not even worth considering. What we have together and with these children is priceless, it is everlasting and it is exactly what I always wanted.
So why those feelings? Why the yearning when I see a working man? Actually when I see the man over the road come home from work, in his contractors van I get the same emotion...so why? Well yesterday I worked it out.
As a woman, we have enormous power, we are far from the weaker sex and I think we own it all!
I get these feelings about a working man because I had such ideas when I was younger, I could hardly wait to be a wife and run a home, to have children and I pretty much knew how I would do it! Oh how foolish we can be!
I married the first one, who was in the army and so from the very start things were nothing like I imagined. Months alone, then he'd come back and interfere with the great routine I had going..then we'd get used to him being home and off he'd go again! We moved too many times and so feeling at home and settled was hard.
He never saw himself as married and after he left I discovered that he had behaved as though he were single whenever he was away, what a man!
Then followed 10 years of being single, with all those added extras thrown in for good measure.
Marrying H was like a turmoil, every stress and worrisome detail came out way, new family, 4 big kids, 3 in a new country, 1 with exceptional issues, H and I having been independent, single people for 10 and 11 years respectively, a pregnancy immediately...wow what a time THAT was. I loved the fact that he was working and coming home every dinner time though, I felt as though THIS was my dream. At last.
I thrived with the routine, early mornings, everyone leaving for school and work, all day to do 'my thing' My home was beautiful, the kids settled, I was in heaven.
Of course, things never work out the way we plan them and one thing after another led us to where we are now.
I worked out that my yearning for how things were, how they will never be again, is down to the idea that I have ( and which, of course is right because they are MY ideas, I feel it, so it's true!) that being married to a man who works all day, comes home at night and leaves the rest to me means this.
Man is out all day, woman is in charge, runs the house, does a great job...feels great.
Kids are home with mum and see her more than dad...mum wins!
Husband is out all day ( oh joy!) comes home in time for a little while with kids..more time with wife.
That means that the woman wins all round, she is in control of the house, is closer to her children than the dad and is closer to her husband than the children are. Somehow she gets the lion share of all the good stuff.
This is not necessarily a good way to feel but to me it is true, marvellously selfish and 'in your face' look at me, I win!
So what I'm saying is that all that yearning for the man in a white shirt is not actually anything to do with money of prestige it's all about ME. What I yearn for is more that feeling of being in control, of being number 1. The way our lives are means that I feel very much at the bottom of the important pile.
H and the boys have it all going on, he is to them, the be all and end all, they enjoy the same things, they think the same way ( heaven help me and to a degree Eli because we are so normal, we don't stand a hope when the others get on a roll!) H is capable and able, he does things here beautifully, I often feel redundant. I admit that I hold the purse strings, I am really really good at things to do with finances, I am thrifty and make what we have stretch and stretch some more. H is not good with money...he talks as though he is now but in all honesty he can say what he likes, this is my territory, I have proven that we are considerably better off when I do things my way. I'm not letting go anytime soon because that is really the only way I get now-a-days, to feel as though I rule at something.
Sometimes, I don't like feeling so much like the after thought, I think we all long to be number one and irreplaceable ( And actually, when I think about it, I am irreplaceable because I am sure that no-one else could deal with this lot!) Then I stand back and look at what I have and Heavens to Betsy! Eat your heart out world! I have a man here who does it all ( except laundry and bed changing) he spends more time with the boys than any other man I have ever met ( because he can, although even when he was working he really did walk in the door and step right up to dad duties) He is kind, funny and loving. He has the odd moment of trying to tell me how best to spend the money...with a swift reminder he shuts up and lets me get on with it again.
I am astounded at how well H and I get along considering we are together 24 hours a day ( almost, I do go out during the day and leave him here to bask in the glorious silence.) He really is my friend I like him very much..how cool is that? Every time I think I know him inside out he changes his mind and for goodness sake who IS he? That helps to keep things interesting.
I think, actually, that given the choice to be the wife of a posh car driving, white shirt wearing, home for the evening man or H, as he is.....I've got what I always wanted, without knowing I even wanted it! That is marvellous isn't it?
Maybe it's the car I was after all along..forget the man driving it, just let ME have the car and by jimminy if life wouldn't be just about perfect.

Well, that's a relief.

I think I am back. As normal. Me. Although not particularly cause for enormous and extravagant celebration, I do like knowing where I am and what's going on.
I can say now, that the whole flying and leaving home, staying somewhere strange, not being here was, traumatic.
Fun though. Enormous fun and worth every heart stopping minute.
I find, when I refuse to be dictated to by fear and depression, when I push and just go and do what I want to do, I love it, I talk myself through it, I enjoy it and then, when it is over, I am overtaken with a shaking terror.
From start to finish, my head goes through all the what ifs. I tell myself I will never do it again, as though promising that will stop any of the dreadful punishments I feel sure are about to befall me, for having fun, for not sticking with the routine, won't happen ( quick say you're sorry, say you won't do it, go there, enjoy it again and the mean monsters will let you off this time....)
It is true that whilst I see that wonderful things happen to me and for me, all the time, whenever I accept the joy and the glory of it all...it goes so horribly wrong. I get so mad when I do this, I try so hard not to but, you know, sometimes your head is just going to do what your head is going to do.
When I came home from Boston, as well as the jetlag which really IS miserable, I had the most awful feeling of impending doom, like I was sure to have to pay with some heartbreaking misery for the level of joy experienced while I was away.
Mental health issues are a bugger, the great thing is, I am wiser to mine now, I never seem to know right when it is all happening, but more and more I cotton on more quickly.
I know more when something is just the head talking, which makes it easier to deal with and get over.
I am not going to stop doing what feels right, I will keep pushing myself to do what feels scary and I will, you can be sure, continue to enjoy the wonderful things that happen to and for me.
If that isn't throwing down the gauntlet to the mean monsters I don't know what is. I stick two fingers up and ....no, I won't at all, I almost said dare them to bring it on. Idiotic that would be, I think they can read and I am sure they read my blog. Shhhhhhhhhhhh.
I am so superstitious, ridiculously so. I don't believe there is any reason to risk disaster, so why walk under a ladder...you know, just in case it is true that it will bring bad luck?
I think, if I say aloud, or write about things I fear....it's asking for it to happen.
Part of me tells me that this is nonsense and then a little voice will whisper ( ah, but what if?)
Oooooohh, subject change...
The littlest boys bedding came today, lovely soft cowboy comforters and shams, sent from Boston, by lovely Cathy. We are still waiting for the sheets, but seeing the comforters has made me keen to get all interior designer and make their room loook fabulous, I have also ordered Seth some pretty fabulous basketball bedding which should be here in a week. Culd it be, that after 6 months of living here I might actually be ready to make it look nice?
(*I can smell vomit...what in the world? I am trying to ignore it because no-one has been sick for days but I can really smell it and I DON'T WANT TO GO ON A PUKE HUNT! *subject change # 3ish)

OK people, listen up....look here, see the pressure I am under?

More fodder, more fodder! I think I've checked your blog 100 times today now! Write!

See?? I'm here...writing, all kinds of drivel to keep you all happy!
I tell you what. Lets try this again.
You tell me what to write. In the comments, give me ideas, ask me questions, give demands. take the pressure of, give me the fodder. Thankyou, I await your instruction.

Like a coiled spring... or a mad woman.

I went out this evening, I felt that I probably shouldn't because I am on the edge. I am beyond weary, with my 3 hours a night sleep and my heavy bones. I am not having too much fun although I can say I don't feel as though I am in the doldrums as such. I am particularly emotional and quick to take offence, not to mention short tempered with idiots.
I was about to drive away from the school today and hadn't yet moved, so I knew that I hadn't cut in front of this man who for some reason, known only to his stupid self got level with my car and was obviously yelling at me.
*sigh*
What to do? Apologise for what? Breathing, being alive.......WHAT?
No, what I did was stare right back at him and say " Oh shut up!"
All better, drive away and make sure he was behind me while I stuck to the speed limit ( and just under) and let everyone I came across out and wave them all on, it took an extra 10 minutes to get to the main road....there rude idiot, betcha wish you'd just driven away and shut your stupid mouth don't you?

I keep reading various things where parents state how worried they are that their child is autistic, parenting boards and blogs and such and just lately, because I am so weepy and internally ( for now) confrontational I feel slighted. I take this personally as though these loving and worried parents have shut me in a room and are yelling in my face "I HOPE MY KID IS NOT LIKE YOURS!" I know they aren't. I know they are just hoping that their child is ' normal' and won't have to face the trials that we face with delicious Isaac. Yet still, it hurts.

So, I went out ( did you remember I started that train of thought forever ago?) and we had a fun evening at Gemma's house, a few women and me. We were having fun and eventually the photo albums came out, what fun.
Julie ( my sister) had one photo album and was chatting about the people in one picture.
" Oh that's Eddie and his girlfriend or whatever he is..they are gay"
Stab!stab! OW my heart.
Shut up, bite your tongue.
Then she made a couple more comments along those lines and my tongue ( and heart ) escaped my control, I lost it.
I sobbed and when I cry,my voice is loud and I quite strongly voiced my opinion that as a mother of a gay son I hated hearing such comments and when I was subjected to such talk felt the desire to smash heads against walls. Gah.
I said , more than once that gay people are PEOPLE, there are good gay people and bad ones, but they are people and as different as you and I.....when I hear
"those gays" or " he/ she whatever it is" my blood boils and my heart breaks.
When I hear those things from someone who loves me and knows my boy and who LOVES him.....well it hurts even more because it is so damned thoughtless, not at all a personal attack but just a thoughtless quip, random words not thought through. I just wish people WOULD think.
Did I make those kind of comments before it mattered to my heart? I know sometimes I can say things that are hurtful without realising it, who do I hurt when my mouth runs away with itself?
We had some of those stunned moments where no-one is quite sure what to say and then it was fine.
I should have stayed at home. Sorry Gemma.

Open wide!

The dentist. We did that again today, was it 6 months since the last appointment? yes, it is. Time flies doesn't it?
We played dentist, we donned gloves and laid down with open mouths and oohed and ahhed over how unpainful it is, Wow! how unscarey is this Isaac? What fun! We can hardly wait to get there and do the real thing! Pah!
Remember how last time, when you were so little you screamed and fought and screamed? Hard to believe that you did that when NOW you are such a big boy and brave and know that dentists are nice and friendly.
Isaac and mummy came in together , watch mummy Isaac, see? Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
Isaac's turn. Brave boy, sat in the chair ( progress indeed) he sat upright ( yippee) and then he turned away from the dentist and he shut his mouth, he shut his mouth very tight and then he clamped his lips in his fingers. Ah. Not so good.
How strong this little boy is when he feels overwhelmed by gloved strangers who want to look at him and touch him and are talking to him.
Not a sound.
Just clamped and rigid and terrified.
I think he actually goes deaf, the terror shuts off his ears and his mind and all he can do is silently plead that I not make him do this. There is little as heart rending as that whispered 'mum.'
When I know that this must be done and I can't whisk him away to safety, when I can't help him see that this isn't terrifying.
I so want the chance to get into his mind and feel what he feels, understand what it's like to feel so out of place in the world. Part of me envies him, does that seem bizarre? I love the idea of being able to shut out what we don't like. By choice, that would be terrific, how frustrating though to want to do something and have your head shut off without you asking it to.
He is quite the most delicious little boy, kind and loving and nowhere near as cross as he ought to be, given the limitations his head places on him.
When the fear is gone, threat is over, he clicks back into Isaac mode. Sweet and happy and usually unaware that he has been anything but cooperative. He will tell you how he went to the dentist and got a sticker. Fear forgotten.

I'm feeling a deep desire to switch off myself at the moment. Too hard, all this thinking. Too wearying, all this grown up stuff that I have been handed. Sometimes, the mother has to step back and let happen what needs to happen and that, for me, is nigh on impossible. I like to fix things and sort things and make it all good.
This time, I can't. I am helpless and have to just watch and wait and hold my breath. There is fear and rage and love and sadness and hope and more fear.
I am so angry and sad that this is how life is, did I make it this way? What did I do, or not do?
The specifics don't matter really. The details and the whys and wherefores, I hope to forget. Don't say them outloud or write them down and maybe tomorrow I can wake up and it will be done, finished, over. I know that a sticking plaster and a comic won't fix things. This is the big stuff, the life altering, lesson learning, character building, important stuff that has to be done, like it or not. I like it not.
How did my mum do it right? Have 5 children who never even once hated her or disrepected her?
How come I never inherited that gene instead of the painful ankles, gall bladder stones and hopeless sense of direction? I got my dad's gappy teeth and ridiculously curly hair..what happened to his mathematical genius?
Swearing is just such a great thing when you feel like this but I've rather lost the ability lately, bugger it all ( hooray, short relapse)
I'm sure that if I could just wander about doing nothing but yell 'Naughty F. Word off ' at everyone that irritates me, life would have new meaning. I just can't do it the way I used to, I manage the odd 'Arse' and after that, well, hopeless on the swearing front.
Pathetic I tell you, are there no joys left to me?
I am going now, to straighten my ridiculously curly hair, so I can sleep on it, and then go out in the rain. Life's just dandy isn't it?