Jam on it.

H is away today. This doesn't happen often at all, he is here, always.
I worry that I take this man for granted ( and know that I do) he is just so quietly here, getting on with what he does, so quietly that I hardly know he is doing it, until he isn't here, not doing doing it. Oh my hell.
I used to be so competent and confident and sure of how good I was at things. I rarely got phased by even the greatest trial.
H left at 5am to go to the temple with some other men from church. He loves the temple, he positively thrives on everything there.
At 6am Isaac woke up ( too early, sooooo early for mum) snuggled into bed with me, phew. 6.20am Seth got up " It's SATURDAY, cool 6am, oh...into bed with mum, wriggle squirm relax, phew. 7am Eli up, everyone up.
By 8am I knew this was going to be a long day. The boys are going through a 'testosterone is us' phase, me boy- me fight. Exhausting, loud and dear me please let the grandbaby be a girl one because frills and frocks seem to appealing to me lately.
As dull as it is to keep harping on about it, we are still having trouble with money, or not having any. Still the problems over that late tenancy agreement, still not getting money through, still having to rob Peter and not pay Paul. Rainy day, no money apart from just enough to Tax the car ( £99 for 6 months yeegads) so the day was stretching ahead in a painful way.
Hoorah then for Jane who called and said she would take Seth and Isaac ( when is it finished are we going home yet?) to the movies. Ahhhhh, heaven.
The thing is, H is so hands on with these boys. He plays basketball, he reads, he teaches, he talks, he shows, he even jumps on the trampoline every day. I stay on one side and do all my stuff, I get things done without little boys harassing me, I nip out to the shops and I get things done. I have jam on it.
Life is pretty smooth, until H isn't here. I see just how much he does and I am left feeling a quivering heap of helplessness.
Have to tax the car ( Oh NO, must take them with me, 3 of them, all at once, all the way over the road, all 26 steps away, and stand in line and sweat over the fact that they may not be good boys.) What is heavens name happened to me?? I have jam on it, that's what. Spoiled brat in fact. They were fine, they were good boys, I did it. Of course.
I read to them this evening, usually so relieved when they trot off at 7.30, lantern in hand, book in daddy's hand, I sigh and relax and know that tomorrow we will do it all again. Tonight I sat and read, Tennis shoes and the feathered Serpent, sitting on the toy bench in Isaac and Eli's room, Seth spread on the rug. As I read Seth got closer and then he was sitting right next to me, leaning on my arm. He is the least smoochy of all my children, most like his dad in the emotional department, he is tough and manly and pah! All that smoochie stuff. Until bedtime, when he needs his fix, he needs to be stroked and kissed and have his back scratched and all on his terms thankyouverymuch.
To have this little boy be the one to snuggle into me, to feel him melt onto my arm as he listened and relaxed, well I got to see why daddy does this so willingly every evening.
I see how poorly I have been. This whole moving, cleaning, worrying time has made me a whole other person and I have forgotten a lot of what matters. I get so cross lately, my head so full of making ends meet and trying to make this whole holiday happen, the noise and the boys and the mess has made me crazy. I am sick of yelling and feeling ,my head throbs with the pretzels on the floor, with the mess Elijah seems to molt. He walks through a room and leaves trail of crap behind him, if it can be spilled, crushed, crunched, torn, tipped, trodden, Elijah is your man, he is delicious with his puffing and his " huh, ne'er mind, it don't matter, iss a attsident, Iss Otay" but dear life how much can you take in one day? On wednesday he had a banana milk, in a bottle from the shop, he was so excited LOOK, he said to gramma, look-at-I-dot" held it high and ..well he hadn't put the lid on properly, all over his head, all over the floor and he stood, drip drip, "oh, iss otay, it don't matter does it?" and it doesn't really. Before I know it he will be all grown up and unclumsy, I will think of this time and miss it. I hope.
Somehow I have to try and get back a perspective on this life. I am tired of feeling so cross and worried. I understand that I have to do the less pleasant chores and I have to get things done, I just don't want to keep missing the important stuff while I get it done.
H is home. The great thing about having someone go away is being able to welcome them home. Welcome him I did too, lovely man.

One of a kind.

Sometimes, I worry that H is dissatisfied with me, you know maybe he is wishing I was a bit more glamorous, does he sigh inwardly and wish for a sexier me?
Last night we had one of those conversations that reminded me H is one of a kind.
*sigh* "I wish I had straight hair, if I had straight hair I would absolutely have it like that, I love that hair" ( as I pointed to the TV screen at a lady with great hair)
" Yeah, if I had an Afghan hound I would like it to have that hair"
" You don't think that hair is beautiful?"
" I think it would probably look great on some dog"

H thinks I am beautiful when I make new bedding.
He thinks I am sexy when I cook roast beef.
He thinks I am irresistable when I sing with Elijah.
Hair? How do you usually wear it?
Clothes? They look soft.
Nails? What nails? Oooh soft hands, nice.
Shoes? Are they comfortable?
Make up? What's that? Who does? When? You did? Oh.


Sometimes it is pretty cool being married to one of a kind.

Crossing fingers and spitting.

Funny, isn't it how it's easy to talk about the bad stuff and lament how awful things are and how tough and rough and moan, whine, grizzle,but when the good times roll, I am always a bit afraid to talk about it because....walls have ears and shhhhhhhh should the gremlins hear that things are happy, some bugger will be sure to come along and ruin it.
I have left the fog of misery. Praise be.
I had fun today, Jordan said I could tell his dad about the baby. You know, the first one, who has had another wife, another child and several dozen relationships that were all unsatisfactory to him for one reason or another.
He is actually quite a good looking man, your typical tall, dark and handsome. What you see is what you get, no hidden depths, no surprises. He has clung to his youth for way too long. Still wearing tight adidas t-shirts and leather wrist bands, he uses phrases like ' hang out' and 'chill' Are you getting the drift here?
What a joy then to be the bearer of impending grand-parenthood news.
" Hello" said he, returning my 37 calls.
" Hello, how hard are you to get hold of?"
( we have these scintillating conversations, it's a wonder our marriage didn't last)
" I know, listen, what's the news, I have been wracking my brains, it must be either that you have a) won the lottery ( as if I would call him to tell him that!)
or b) you are going back to America."
" Or" I replied " c) we are going to be grandparents"




" Or WHAT?"
" Yes, Jordan and Mel, having a baby"
He was actually very sweet for a moment and then it began to sink in and he nervously laughed about how that may not be a cool chat up line " Hi, I'm Kevin and I am a grandad"
He told me how hard he has worked to hold onto his youth
" Let it go Kev......buy some slippers and subscribe to a fishing magazine"
Ha ha ha ha ha......
He thought he might like to be grampy, which is sweet and touching except the chances of him actually seeing his grandchild or having very much to do with it are so slim, it is really quite sad.
I am wallowing in the gloriousness of how this all feels.
Every time I have had a positive pregnancy test I have experienced a range of emotions from excitement to sheer terror. Always the " what have I done?" feeling. What if it's a screamer? What if this one is the one I can't cope with? What if I should have only had 1, 2 , 3, 4, 5 .....maybe ........
Being a grandma? Already great. Not a single 'what if'. Just the excitement.
I can have things here for when the baby comes. Mel wants me to take her to Mothercare on monday. I am so thrilled that they want me involved in this time.
Sophie, my girl. She is turning into the dearest of girls. She now has an evening job and also, it would seem a boyfriend. At last. Someone who took her out to a beautiful restaurant and bought her champagne. Dan has met him and said he seems very nice......and has also said he is having a police check run to make sure he is a good man! Sophie has no idea how much she is loved. She is beginning to believe it though, at last.
It feels to me as though maybe, just maybe we are turning a corner. Now I've said it I have the heebie jeebies about jinxing myself. Shut up. I am so superstitious I get on my own last nerve.
I love this time of year. The boys are going to bed at 7.30 every night. Asleep within 15 minutes and they stay asleep until 7am. Cost evenings, just cool enough to wonder if the heating might be necessary, curtains drawn and good telly. Nearly time for hug teas like Cauliflower cheese and chicken stews. Time to start baking and filling the house with wintry smells and comforting tastes.
I adore the sunshine, it lifts my soul, but this time of year with it's fresh cool air, the promise of halloween, thanksgiving and Christmas......so much to look forward to, we like that.
I feel as though this new baby is bringing with it so much newness and hope. A chance to see everything differently. What a miracle babies are, even before they are born, no bigger than a bean this little one has already bought so much joy.
So, here's to the gremlins not reading this blog, let the good times keep coming. Please.

What a difference a day makes.....

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



to this.....





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

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

That's what I call a reward!

Well, I do a bit of laundry for them and they tell me I am going to be a Nana, that's what I call a thankyou!
Jordan and Mel are having a baby. They are so young, 20 and 18 but so lovely together. They work hard to build a beautiful home and it is amazing to see how much Jordan has grown up this past year.
I can think of all the worries and pit falls but actually, this is wonderful news. Both my boys are incredible with little people, I love watching them with my little boys. There just isn't anything more glorious than family. I get to have all the excitement of a new baby, without any of the puking, aching, nerves or pushing ( ow, that hurts!!) I get to buy cute things and kiss and love a beautiful baby and then I get to hand it back and nod my head when they tell me how hard being a parent is.
It will be very hard not to interfere, I might not be able to keep my nose out at all.
I went into town today, in an effort to like my home more, I embraced the belief that when you are having trouble liking someone, you serve them, as you serve them it is almost always the case that you begin to love them. Sound bizarre but honestly it's true. So, I thought if I were to work on my home in a good way ( not the endless OCD scrubbing) I might love it more. I bought some beautiful material, chocolate brown and a golden sort of thread in there, I made a duvet cover and curtains but somehow, in my heavy handed way managed to snap the 3 machine needles mum had. I ran into town ( in my car, hate to give false impressions of fitness or even modest desire for activity) parked up and headed towards the sewing machine shop, when there, right in front of me, was my lanky big boy. I adore him, he is just such a joy to me. Of all my children he has probably been the least 'trouble', from tiny he was happy to entertain himself. There were times when I would put him to bed and wonder if I had actually spoken to him, he would plod along behind us and just be happy as long as he could see me.
So damaged by the monster who stole him away for a while, he was never naughty, worryingly good until he was 5. Even then, not naughty but never still. He was endlessly on his head, climbing, running, jumping, skipping.
He cried piteously if he couldn't see me when he was little. There was no calming him he would cry for hours and hours if I had to leave him, until he could see me again. It never bothered me, I just took him with me, if I went to the bathroom, he came with me, if I went into the garden to hang washing, he came too. Quiet and gentle he was my shadow. He really came to life when he saw his daddy. My heart broke often over this little boy, he was a daddy's boy from the day he was born and when the first one left,he took my boys heart with him. I was left with a sweet little boy who was polite and delightful, but always a bit sad. When daddy came to visit he lit up, he became whole again, I would see how this little boy should be and was powerless to help, the rage I felt towards his dad for causing such sadness and for not being around after Jordan was so broken by the monster is still there today.
I can't remember when Jordan became so funny, one day he stopped crying and began to laugh and he has hardly stopped since. He is hysterical, truly a born entertainer and such a quick wit. Wherever he is there is laughter, real belly laughing and the kind that makes your ribs ache. When he and Dan are together it's a good idea to have some depends to hand.
He is such a hard worker, since he left school, just before his 16th birthday he has worked, he started as a kitchen porter in a hotel and attended college to train as a chef. Now he is a chef in a great hotel, he works long hours and now he has a beautiful home with Mel.
He is so proud of what they have achieved and loves to show me the latest improvement to their home. I have no doubt at all that he will be a great father.
I think I shall learn to knit, make cardigans and hats, that may never get used because youngsters these days...well it's all denim and designer names, tsk tsk.
I want to make lovely things and bedding and stuff but will have to remember this is their baby and not mine. Hmmmmm, tough one that.
Always a new challenge!
Happy news indeed.

When I grow up.....

This is what I want to buy, because I can absolutely imagine doing this
Welcoming weary travellers and ushering them into this haven. Home made soup and crusty bread after a walk in the lanes. Fresh cream teas by the fire, or in the garden.
Waking up and seeing this view, can't you just smell that fresh air?
Will you come and stay? I shall keep the rates most favourable. Special rates, naturally for readers of my dreams.

Anything you can do......

Funny how we continue to learn things about even ourselves every day.
Jordan called yesterday, his washing machine is broken and he is working day and night at the moment, he asked if I could do some laundry for him, nothing like being needed, even by your big kids. I told him I would come by this morning to collect his washing and would bring it back this afternoon. When I got there he brought just one bag of laundry to the car.
" Is that it?" I asked, expecting at least 3 big black sacks full.
" Yeah, Mel's mum came and took 2 bags yesterday"
You think I'd be pleased about that wouldn't you? Not so. I felt unreasonable slighted that Mel's mum beat me to it and took some stinky clothes to wash ( she irons it too, must have too much time on her hands if you ask me.)
All the way home I was thinking how I have to make sure MY laundry smells better than hers, how MY laundry must be whiter and cleaner and make my boy happy that his mum loves him. ( even though she won't iron it, oh no...lets not over do it!)
How insane is THAT?
When my sister became a grandma for the first time, she bought Sammy a little squishy Elephant and was very clear in her instructions to her daughter that Sammy must love THIS toy more than any toy his other granny gave him. Aren't we just the weirdest people? Why is not enough to just be loved? Why must we be loved the BEST? I know that when I am a grandparent I absolutely do NOT want to be called the same as the other grandmother, I want to be Nana, she can be grandma, I don't want to be one of a set, I want to be ME, immediately recognised, no grandma Helen for me, just one name, nana and the beautiful ones will immediately know who is being spoken about, the great one, the most beloved. ME.
On a totally different note, I opened the front door this morning to find 2 suitcases. What the ?????? Clothes, books, DVD player and remote. No note, no explanation, just 2 cases. I wonder if it was someone disgruntled with a stinking hobo that used to live here and dumped their stuff here? Seems weird as the bags are beautifully packed, if someone was mad I would imagine things stuffed in cases and dumped. Then I thought maybe it was someone hoping to doss down with whoever lived here before.....the bags were there early at 8am, no-one has been back though so that theory bites the dust. This house is just plain freaky, what else can I say?
H has been drilling holes and hanging stuff. Back packs and flower baskets, first aid kits and whadyamacallits, you name it, it is now hung and stored and tidy and clear. My longing for neatness and order should be satisfied, I just think my soul has had such a bashing with this house, with the filth and the fear, the itching and a-scratching, unfortunately it's almost impossible for me to feel anything positive about it. I shall work on it, just as soon as I can. Which is not today. Or maybe even tomorrow.
My sister is coming tomorrow from Utah with those beautiful girlie people, Izzie 4 and Lily 2, who make my boys look like boring little nerdy kids, these girls can outdo my boys in everyway when it comes to mischief. We are going to have some FUN! Izzie can give Sophie a run for her money when it comes to talking too...can't wait to see them!

If they could see me now...

I am a burster. One of those types that think, feel, wait, wait some more, think some more, get in a complete state about it all and then BURST into action, do it, NOW!!

Like my temper, I think people believe I have a quick temper. Not so. I get annoyed and I tell myself to get over it, stop fretting about it, don't let it bug me, ignore it, forget it........EXPLODE!

Like my cleaning habits, blah doesn't worry me, let 'em play, look at me, I don't care, step over it, around it, don't look at it...... CLEAN IT ! Frenzied scrubbing and sweeping and throwing it away bursts.

Like my eating, not hungry, don't want it, can leave it, can resist it....EAT IT!EAT IT! EAT IT!

You get the idea. I can appear as a sloth, strolling along through life without a care in the world until all of a sudden, insanity. Total insanity.

Last night I had one of those nights, quite relaxed, minor scratching, watching TV ( why so dull on saturdays? WHY?! Although Isaac was in sheer bliss with the 'Best Elvis in the World' show, a plethora of Elvis wannabees showing us how tenderly they can be loved and bemoaning the returned mail sent so apologetically to loved ones, let THAT be a lesson to you young men the world over, just be bloody kind in the first place, you never know when she'll have had it and bugger off, leaving no forwarding address, if it can happen to Elvis..well, just think on. So that afforded me a happy hour of watching him watch that.)

Midnight and the itching steps up a bit, (how can something so hideous and low down as a scabie mite know when it is night time? Even though they are now very dead the night time itching is still like a sadistic alarm clock, am told it can take 2 weeks to stop itching.) By 1am ...I know, IRONING, that's it, do the ironing, I love ironing and haven't done any for 2 weeks since we moved in ( apart from the school shirts that have been done in a rush every morning) So, ironing it was, for 2 hours, lovely, how satisfying, hangers and piles and rows of beautiful smelling clothes and bedding, how satisfying.

Grab that huge clump of hangers and take it into pooh room, where rails and drawers are for all clean clothes, poopy bit of carpet long gone, most of boxes now gone, rest of carpet still down. I still hate this room. It still feels like the devil resides there to me. No-one else seems to feel it, so I keep quiet and avoid it as much as I can, run in, run out and quick shudder as I go about my business. The doors on this house are fire doors, 2 layers of wood with some kind of metal in between, with springy things to make the door shut all on it's own. 3am, arms full of clothes on hangers, lovely clean ironed clothes, inside door, hang clothes on rack...SLAM. Door shut. IS dark in here apart from street light which is eerily like full moon light. Frozen, completely frozen to find myself in the devil's parlour at 3am with door shut. Of course, the door isn't locked, it is right there next to me and all I had to do was reach over and open the bloody thing, could I do it? Nope.
Have you ever noticed what happens to your eyes when you suddenly find yourself in the dark? How about when you are afraid? EYES WIDE OPEN! I was too scared at the time to appreciate how funny I must have looked because my eyes were so wide open my eyeballs about popped out.
It took maybe 3 seconds for me to realise that this is ridiculous. I am an absolute believer in spirits, both good and evil but I also believe that they can only do to us what we allow. I am sure that even the worst of spirits cannot hurt us if we don't allow it. I stood, with my eyes bulging out of my head, and I knew that I had to get a grip on this. I made myself stand there and make that room mine. This is my home and I just can't allow anything, even a bad feeling to stop me making the best of it. I left the room, had my customary shudder and went to try and relax.
This morning I ripped that room apart, still in my pyjamas I took the carpet up, emptied the rest of the junk left in there and cleared it all out.
I opened the window, cut the carpet into 3 manageable pieces and taped them in rolls, then I threw them out of the window, not wanting to have to carry them long enough to have them next to my body I figured if I threw them out of the window all I would have to do is get them in the car and tip them tomorrow. Stupid me, of course as I threw them out of the window lumps of carpet fluff and grit and WHO KNOWS WHAT ELSE was falling ON MY HEAD and FACE. IF my friends could see me me now they'd never believe it!! All the while, running on the spot trying to keep my mouth shut and eyes squinty, whimpering at the horror of what was falling on my HEAD!
"Ewwwwwww EWWWWWWWW don't fall on my FACE, ACK ACK ACK GET OUT THE WINDOW!!!" I was snorting at myself because, honestly, can you picture it?
It is done, all clean and clear and I went straight upstairs and showered and scrubbed and washed hair and rinsed and ...it is done. Phew.
Oh my GOODNESS, Look, a toy for every occassion, can you believe this? I'm not kidding I had this link just pop up on my email, hmmmmm, thought I, wonder what these toys are?

JUST FOR ME!!!! I am speechless.

All in the 'ead.

I have reached the F stage. The stage whereby I am no longer thinking death is imminent and would be most welcome, not yet at the stage where I look at you quizzically and have to stop and think why you are asking me how I am and if I am better yet.
No, definitely at the F stage, or to be more precise but not as precise as I could be ( trying to be like Jesus and all that) the F'ing stage.
The " Oh Helen, how are you?"
" Getting better I think, thankyou, except for this F'ING ITCH!"
I have yet to say out loud the F'ing bit, that's the bit that is all in my head and please let it stay there. In my head though, the fishwives are having a party.
The itch ( I'm sorry this must be so dull for you, a whole week now of my itching, my blog, I get to whine as long as I like about the same damn thing) isn't as painful, hoorah, but...BUT the skin is so sore and split and dry and bruised that the scratching of the F'ing annoying and still rather persistant itch is making me so GRUMPY! F'ing hands, what the hell? When is this going to be over?? WHAT?? Scratch. Why do they still want feeding and taking to school and need talking to ? !*"@'$"!! Scratch.
Apart from that, things are bloody lovely.
H has cleaned the flat, all clear and clean and shiny and being filled with all our boxes and junk, that will clear the dog pooh room ( that absolutely does not smell at all of any kind of pooh anymore, except in my head, will it ever NOT smell of pooh in my head and will I ever be able to go in there and actually, you know breathe and stuff?) we will throw out every scrap of carpet from the room, get some nice offcut and use that room for something, ironing or storing clothes or something.
It's a bit nice to know that we will be here at least until April.....I could plant some daffodil bulbs and actually get to see them flower. We can breathe and relax and make little plans.
Plans other than winning the lottery and buying the barn and just living there forever. Which is what my head keeps doing. Bad head, swearing one minute, buying lottery tickets the next ....tsk tsk.
I am pretty sure that should I win the lottery, I would no more buy the barn than donate it all to first husbands anonymous. I just like to think of the barn with all those little extras that would have made it completely perfect. I heart the barn. *sigh*
I would buy a house in a nice bit of land and live there forever though. A 4/5 bedroom 3 bath house ( why 3 baths? Because H has a little dream of having his very own bathroom that no-one else ever uses that he can have a key to, like Uncle Jack who has just that and H wants it, H shall have it when I win the lottery) with a huge utility room and farmhouse type kitchen.
I was thinking today about how I look to other people. Often wonder about that because I am sure I look completely different to others than I do to myself.
I have no idea if I look fatter than I do to myself or thinner and will never ask in case I cry at the answer.
I think I look young enough....let me keep that little dream, it makes me happy. I certainly don't feel old enough to have these big kids. I was in the kitchen the other day putting leftovers in a plastic tub and it struck me what a maternal and grown up thing that was to do. When did all this happen? When did I get to be completely grown up and unyoung? When did I stop being 26?
I collected my duvet and feather mattress topper from the cleaners today, oooooh that bed is like a princesses haven right now, fluffy and clean smelling and all froofed up. Bliss indeed.
We are scrubbed and boiled and treated and clean, oh so clean. Every one of us. I love having both the kirby and a filter queen, ain't nothing going to get past that pair of monsters. Keep telling self that, let self believe it, must be able to relax now, all is clean. Itch.
I am happy to have so much hardwood flooring downstairs, much to be said for being able to disinfect and even bleach everything. I should be able to relax, if it weren't all in my head. Scratch. *^"!@*^!!
I hope this won't stop us having visitors, not that I am running up to people saying " Hi! I have Scabies!! Fancy a cuppa? " or anything dim like that, but people do know and I find myself saying how clean we all are now and how only I got it and no-one else but we are all treated and the house, it is SQUEAKY clean and sterilised. Please still be my friend. Try not to scratch.

I am not a monster......

Shhhhhhhhhhh....... as I type, with the exception of a few welts on the back of my neck that are annoyingly itchy I am almost feeling normal. Oh the relief. Most of the day I have had one or two areas of itch and a face that looks like the Elephant man but otherwise, not suicidal and not screaming or wailing or lamenting the whole terrible world of scratch.
What's with the face? Good heavens, give me a break, my eyes have done this weird thing where they have swelled in the corners, next to my nose. Really swelled, I look like I have a syndrome, no kidding ( I know, you want pictures but leave me a smidgen of dignity will you for Pete's sake, not that I care much for Pete, or even know him but you know what I mean.) The right side of my face, right along the hairline and near my ear, down past my chin, has a fat line of bumpety welts that are itchy enough to make me feel quite sorry for myself but not have me leaning with my head against the tumble drier weeping for mercy.
I have had clothes on all day.
Poor H, normally such a modest type of gal, I have thrown every ounce of decorum away this past week and have lollopped about in nothing but granny pants and a miserable disposition. I cared not, I needed relief, cool air and not to be touched by damn clothes.
H has been glorious and typically H, just quiet and useful, gentle and helpful and I am very grateful to have him. I have looked at him a lot these past few days and in my depressed state of mind dreaded the day I would ever be without him. He has gently made me laugh when it would have seemed impossible. His lovely cool hands have stroked my poor back and soothed my miserable spirit.
The landlady came by today, we have a tenancy agreement and are to pay a full and generous rent of £750 a month, I told her about the rotten bathroom floor and how dangerous that is and she said " Oh yeah, just don't use the shower." I think not Ms have to cover my mortgage payment but don't expect anything back for your money, I think we will have that floor fixed thankyou very much.
I have already drafted and will mail tomorrow, 3 copies of a letter stating the repairs we expect within the next 2 weeks, one copy for her, one for us, one for the council. From now on, everything will be done in writing. I'm done with the chummy pal stuff. It gets us nowhere.
She said how lovely it is to see this house like a home and how lucky we are to be here because it has such a lovely garden ( yeah right, it does now.....has she forgotten that rotten overgorwn festering jungle?) and told us, oh how funny...that the sale of the barn fell through. It is not sold. We could still be there.
H is happy we aren't there...the noise drove him crazy and he felt a bit out in the sticks, he likes being here near people and civilisation. I miss it, the smell and the safety and the space. The newness. I miss it. A lot.

I think that this whole month, moving, the tooth, this skin business has knocked me sideways. I am flattened. I am relieved that it seems my itching hell is on it's way out but until it has gone and become a funny ( as if!) tale of the 'remember that?' variety I am sitting very still and trying not to scratch my poor old face and neck.
I haven't had any steroids today nor have I taken any anti histamines for 7 hours, this is huge, HUGE I tell you. I am almost weeping with the relief of it. Please, please let this be the end of it.

Scratch that.

We may have an answer, a horrible, dirty answer that is ewwwwwww but ahhhhhh if it is true.
SCABIES. Ack. Incubation period of 4-6 weeks, which means that right when I was cleaning this house, the female mites began to burrow and lay their eggs under my skin, ready to hatch and eat me alive right now. Dear Lord.
When I was headed to the Dr this morning after a night ( apologies for mental pictures about to be conjured) of leaning against a table, wearing nothing but big old ladies knickers and some throbbing welts ( ha ha that should send some interesting googlers my way) and howling in pain and frustration, I prayed that somehow this lovely caring Doctor of mine would know what to do to help me.
We sat for the longest time and we went over and over the steroids, do and don'ts and shouldn'ts and pros. We worked out the maximum amount of piriton I can take ( an extra tablet in the middle of the night , whoohoo) and my heart was sinking, I sat with the miserable thought that she wasn't going to be able to help me. As I was leaving she looked up and said " I wonder if it could be an infestation of scabies?" and DING!! I knew it was.
I was SO excited because as awful as it is, I know that the treatment is so simple and it WORKS. The only 'if' we have is the fact that very rarely do the scabies affect the head or face and my head AND face have been affected, my poor face. If I wasn't so miserable about how I look usually I would have taken pictures of my swollen face this morning, itchy and swollen but not angry and red like the rest of my body.
I came home and had a bath, slathered the lotion on ( ahhhhh so cool and soothing) I stripped my bed ( again) right down to the mattress, feather pillow top taken with the duvet to be cleaned and mites killed ( £22) new pillows bought ( £11) sheets, pillow cases, covers, blankets all boiled and cleaned.
I had scabies once before and although it never got anywhere near this level, I remember the itching was the same, that awful boiling and needle like itch. Starting on hands and feet, working it's way to the trunk and always worse at night and when hot, bathing and sleeping are times when the itching is at it's most painful.
I have felt better all afternoon, the itching is coming on now ( 6.15pm) but I am told that the itching can continue for 2 weeks even though the mites are killed almost immediately.
I called the council, they called environmental health. Landlady is going to be in trouble and that scares me, although all this helps our case in getting rehoused. I just so hate trouble, I loathe confrontation. I have to come up with a plan that will legally cover us, she said stay here rent free, that could backfire. I need to come up with a way of having her say she has refunded us the rent to cover expenses met during the moves.
This has cost us so dearly, both financially and emotionally, don't even start on physically. I am done. I know that I cannot deal with one more issue to do with this moving situation. I need that holiday. It can't come quickly enough, if I could wake up tomorrow and be in the sunshine, in the clean hotel being waited on and enjoying recreation and FUN, I would go in a heartbeat.
I am fast developing a cleanliness obsession, always a bit freaky on the clean front I had managed to let go and see that there is more to life than a shiny skirting board. Now I find myself squirting and scrubbing and checking to see if everything is clean and not germ laden and filthy or stinky. I am so tired.
I hope that tonight is more comfortable, if I can manage to see even a tiny improvement I will be happy. I just can't stand the thought of no end in sight.
I think the end IS in sight, thank goodness.

Good news, I think.

The girl is out of hospital, not meningitis after all, she is sleeping off whatever nasty bug she has had. Oh the worry!
I went back to the hospital myself this morning, after Dan called last night it all went beserk.....even my face blew up, I am not a pretty sight I tell you. Anyway, what this proves is that this is caused by stress. A relief in a way because although it makes me feel like a flake, it does mean that I can perhaps get a hold on it. I have been working on relaxing and as well as taking the meds, I am trying, really hard to not let this get me.
I have some great anti itch cream that isn't steroid based so I can use it as much and as often as I need, which helps, ahhhhh blessed relief! I am taking the anti histamines every 4 hours which means walking around in a fog all day, better that than an alert raging scratch lunatic!
I spoke to landlady today and as usual had the wind taken out of my sales, this is how I get suckered in, I am all ready to be assertive and ready and when I talk to her she is so sweet and ready to help. She is coming around on thursday at 10am , I so hope that we can get things sorted out and organised with the tenancy agreement. As soon as that is in place I have to begin the steps to get this house checked and seen by environmental health.
The thought is that the house itself is not the cause of my problems. If it were the case, the problem would most certainly have been worse while I was cleaning it, when it was at it worst. For it to be happening now, when all is clean and shiny seems unlikely.
This house, so far is much less mouldy than the last 2 homes we have had ( not counting the beautiful and problem free barn that I loved) it is a source of joy to me NOT to have to look at fluffy walls. Here's hoping that this lasts through the winter.
I can't wait to have something funny to share and write about, I just can't be funny while I feel this terrible. I am going to see my lovely doctor tomorrow in the hope that she can some up with something that will help, I am a raving lunatic with this awful itching and pain.





Fat usually, right now even fatter and puffier and so bloody painful I am going out of my crazy mind!

Not about me!

Sophie has been rushed to hospital, she has suspected meningitis, Dan is with her and they are testing her right now.
I can't travel to be with her because if this damned skin thing and all the meds. Hopefully her dad can get there. She was here the last 2 days and has been sick with a horrible sore throat, she called on the way home to say she felt bad and I told her to go right to bed as soon as she got in.
When she got back she saw Dan and told him she felt ill, showed him the rash she had ( she never mentioned that to me) and he took her right in, when they saw her rash apparently the nurse said " oh shit" Drs rushed to see her and said that she was being fast tracked to get the various tests done.
I will keep you informed, of course.
Ever wonder why some people get a charmed life while others? Well you know what I mean.

I told you I was ill!

So, at 2am I could stand it no more, it felt like I was on fire, my whole body, even the soles of my feet. So swollen I couldn't move for crying, so I told H I was headed for the hospital to throw myself at their feet and beg for relief.
I arrived and explained my dilemma ( although one look at me told more than needed to be said, my face was covered, my eye puffed shut, my ear was so swollen it was turned almost inside out) I was whisked right in and taken to the resuscitation room, and hooked up to various machines, given IV steroids, anti histamines and the longed for relief. Still itchy and quite swollen but at least now I have some lines back on the palms of my hands ( how bizarre did that look? SO puffy every line had squished out) My ear has gone down but my feet and legs are still pretty revolting. I am covered in scabs where the skin split and wept and has now healed over.
A soon as I saw the Dr I burst into tears! Big old wuss, she asked if I was cold because although my skin was on fire, I was shaking and my teeth were chattering, all I could say was " I have to get my bra off, it's killing me!) and whipped that bugger off there and then, whatever happened to dignity?
I am home and H is doing it all so I can sit and stare into space or sleep or just scratch in peace.
They wouldn't let me drive home due to all those splendid drugs, so my poor old car is sitting at the hospital and it cost a ridiculous £12 to get a taxi home. My sister is coming in about an hour to take me to collect it, hopefully I will be sensible enough to drive home without incident!
They did say that there are almost certain that this is not a reaction to anti-biotics. The fact that this is getting worse after the anti-biotics have been stopped apparently makes it very unlikely that they caused any of it.
Frustrating not to know what the cause is because how can I stop doing it, using it, eating it, touching it, if I have no idea what ' it' is? Ptthhhhhhhhhh.
So, am going to lie down and revel in the fact that I can. My skin is recovered enough to lie down and not make me scream. Hoorah.

No picture of that, I promise you.

My whole body has the welts, I have one particularly nasty one right in between my bum cheeks. ( no picture as promised)
H suggested putting on a good tune and pretending to dance vigorously whilst sitting down, or failing that just finding a good tree to back up on, bear fashion.
I am not managing to be cheerful, or nice at all. These kids are asking for trouble, Elijah and Isaac are gits, not in a cute way. They are grating on my last nerve that is already exposed and ragged.
I get 3 good hours in the morning, take the steroids, anti histamines and pain killers, sleep and when I wake up I am good for about 30 minutes then it all seems to go to pot until the next morning.
I am sick of whining, are you sick of reading it, are you sighing and oh for heavens sake shut the hell upping yet?
Landlady is back in the country today. Wonder when she will contact me? Not sure I can stand to contact her but suspect I will have to. I hope that by the end of the week I can say that all is settled with her and we will have no need to have contact any other way than via mail. I am tired or pretending to be nice to her.
I did take some pictures of the bad stuff today, I stayed home to enjoy my drug induced stupor, while the meds were kicking in I climbed ladders one handed and took pictures, I am clever that way.
Shall I show you so you are as depressed and miserable as I am? Well here they are anyway.

This is the door to the flat, how secure does this look? Not at all is it? It now has a super duper padlock that will ( we hope) foil any and all attempts to get into our home.



This is above us as we walk into the house, yes that is a sheet of plastic that is supposed to keep out the rain, do you think it will?



This is the ceiling in the hallway, this has actually been repaired, it used to be an actual hole before we moved in, she had someone 'fix it' but it is already bowing and cracking,


It could be because immediately above it is this

The bathroom floor, where the shower has leaked so much and never been repaired, the floor is totally rotten.

This is the attic room that I have only just made myself look in because H told me how chockablock it was with, well see what it's piled high with.


See that wig on the box just to the left? Do you think it is a wig or a dead person? Ha...nothing would surprise me at the this point!
There we are then, my happy post for sunday. I do hope you join me again soon because I am just so good at this uplifting and spreading the joy thing lately, aren't I?

Head, shoulders knees and toes.

OK, so I need to learn ( and quickly) to chill the hell out, or take up drinking or something.
No kids here today ( apart from our own of course) because I had to get myself to the hospital. I am falling apart at the seems and it is neither pretty or comfortable.
A picture paints a thousand words...I've got 5 for you, wanna see?


My right foot.



My left hand.


My swollen and splitting ankle.


My ear that had just begun to swell and itch. 20 minutes later, whole neck, back of head.....horrible.


right hand, which actually doesn't look anything as bad as it was.
I say was because big old steroid dose, new anti histamine, super strength steroid cream, prayers and sleep, things look a bit better. I feel like , well pretty much how I look. It spread down my back, my thigh and random patches on my arms and shoulders that came up, went down, came up again.
I am beginning to sting and hurt again but I can take some more meds soon.
The cause of this? Who the hell knows? Either stress ( you reckon?) or a reaction to the anti biotics. I am to say very loudly from now on that I am allergic to penicillin, even if that isn't the case, a reaction like this while taking penicillin could spell disaster next time if that is the cause.
Chatting to a friend in Asda car park later, when I was in a good spell and the swelling was merely gross as opposed to oh dear life what the hell happened, I was telling her about the latest house nightmare and as I began to tell her about the floor beginning to cave in and the ceiling bulging my neck and ear began to burn and swell again, so my guess would be the worry is causing the whole thing as much as anything else.
Sophie is here, I called her and she was just arriving in the station, I told her to meet me at Asda and we would go and get a chinese meal. When she met me just as I finished shopping I sent her back into Asda to buy a lottery ticket. Let me tell you that entering the lottery and buying tickets ie. gambling is a no-no in our church, not up there with adultery or smoking crack but really, we are advised not to do it, greed and something for nothing and gambling addictions and all that sensible stuff.
I was smart and thought if I would send Sophie in, SHE could be sent to hell instead of me ( clever!!) or, actually, no-one would go to hell but also, no one from church who could be buying their toilet paper or vodka, I mean milk, would see me. Ha! Am so smart, can get Lotto ticket , probably win because surely....sods law and all that LET ME WIN IT! Will repent and be generous and do good things with winnings, also will buy a house without crumbling walls and falling in floors. One that has a nameplate on it saying "Izarz" or
"dunroamin'' perhaps even " this is my house and I am never moving again, ever and look, the ceilings are staying UP and everything"
Anyway, I sat and waited for my girl to come out with my winning ticket and saw lovely lady from church, with some of her children with her, one of which is in my class, you know the one I teach about being obedient and living the gospel and choosing the right etc. And a little boy who is divine and a boy. Chat chat, scratch, chat, whine.......lovely time and before I knew it some time must have passed because LOOK Sophie! Here she is and in her hand, my ticket ( to hell maybe) HOLDING IT RIGHT OUT AND THRUST IT IN MY FACE. Serves me right.
Arses.
Isn't it always the way? When will I learn, that for me, trying to do anything I know isn't right isn't worth doing. I never get away with a damn thing, not even a little thing like buying a lottery ticket, I don't even want to imagine if I decided to go right off the rails and do something really wicked. Makes me itch just thinking of it. I hope I win so this cringing, self slapping feeling is worth it. Life isn't terribly fair is it? My whole life is just a bloody joke, ha de ha.

Am I going mad? I wonder why, when I hit post I get "Blog anzeigen ( in einem neuen Fenster)" I mean to say, I did get a german O level and all but why? WHY?

That was a good one.

What a splendid day we had today, well I did anyway. So much all in one day, where to begin?
It didn't start so well as there was yet another mix up over money and time was spent redoing paperwork and using honey to catch some flies as in
"hello, I was here yesterday and we filled in some paperwork, a lovely lady helped me and faxed over the necessary papers to Plymouth so that I could receive some money and what do you know? They lost it, I wonder if we could do it all again and fax it to THIS name at THIS number and I will call at the exact same time and check that it arrives? Oh thankyou, you're so kind"
Instead of " For love of mercy, are you people complete idiots? Did I not spend hours here yesterday filling in paperwork? How hard was it to fax and send?"
And then
" Hello, it's me again, I am here at local office and spoke to you yesterday, you were so kind and promised that I would receive some money today as soon as you received a fax of my details ( again) Well, what do you know? They forgot to fax it and now they are faxing it again and I thought I would call while they do it, just to make sure it all went through and check they actually sent it to the correct number this time and that you receive it because I know as soon as you receive it you will print that cheque and send it right out.
It did? you have? Fabulous, thankyou so much, you are wonderful"
Instead of " LOOK! I KNOW they faxed it, I SAW them fax it, you lost it or went to lunch or forgot or don't give a monkey's nipple or something but stand over THERE by the damn machine and watch it come out, don't lose it, don't forget it, do the paperwork and SEND ME THE MONEY! Thankyou, dimwit"
So I was so sweet they fell over themselves and got it right and even called me as the cheque was put into an envelope and mailed to me first class. Marvellous.
Then, I picked Eli up from nursery, took him to mums and popped into B & Q because I felt drawn to the plant section, they had some lovely plants reduced to pennies and I bought some and rove home. Hmmm, 12.40 shall I pot these plants or take a nap? Text message " Hey Helen....are you having trouble getting here? Debs"
Lunch. Agh, forgot..am on my way, don't worry, will be minutes.
Pleasant enough drive, all on my own putting the world to rights and ....goodness that traffic is bad, might take longer than normal but is OK have plenty of time......ta de dah.......oh here we are, see? Hare and hounds......hare and hounds? Shouldn't be seeing that because lovely lunch place is before that and oh BOLLOCKS! What in the world is the matter with me? Will turn around and join that traffic and go all the damn way back because I am such a numpty.
"yep, am almost there, would have been there earlier but was drawn to drive right past and then come all the way back...am here.....HELLO!"
Delicious lunch with much laughing and talking and sitting.

Then we left for the basketball game which was just fantastic. I love the atmosphere of things like that and just get emotional and all goosepimply how lucky are we that fun like this is all right here and we don't have anything to worry about and SETH.....don't you just love all this stuff, the cheerleaders and lights and smoke and all?
"well, yeah but what I want to know is when are the raiders coming out?" Which made me feel good because as much as he wants us to think he is grown up, he showed me right there that he is a little boy, very 7, because sheesh, GIRLS? Wiggling their thing and shaking their bits and all that pom pommy stuff? Get the blokes out here with the basketball and give me what I came for already!
The cheerleaders were great. One in particular was feeling it. She shook it a bit more than the others and she showed us that LOOK I can bend over so much lower than those other flippertygibbets, knees bent and legs apart? Look at ME, see how I do it? I am almost ashamed to admit that I found myself watching her more than the players because she was just SO into it. I could feel her need and if I am honest. I think she has ambition. I would put money on her being pretty keen on working her way along to doing her thing with a pole one day.
You know those commercials late at night, the ones that tell you how if you text DESPERATE to this number one of these perfect and pert little girlies will chat with you and be your best friend and probably will end up being your girlfriend and it will only cost your mum and dad 3 months wages for 10 calls? She looked like one of those girls.


She is the one on the far right. What I loved was the way these girls just gave it their all. Everyone should have something that makes them feel this alive.

Isaac just loved it, the first half, he especially lived the mascot and laughed like a drain at his naughty antics. He clapped and yelled and stood up and sat down....



And then it was the 2nd half and it was 8.30pm and bedtime is at 8pm and ......he lost the ability to enjoy anything, this boy loves his sleep and he needs his sleep and his sleep starts at 8pm and ......so tired.
I sort of joined him because the 2nd half was the same as the first half with a few subtle differences like our team being at the other end and we couldn't see them much because they were down that end a lot ( winners you see, they were good) and also, Sweat. Lots of it. We were pretty close to those players who are BIG ( most of them ) and they had already been running and jumping and blocking and catching for an hour. Enough said. It was a bit stuffy and I not a woman who finds sweat smell sexy. No siree.
So, because Isaac and I are alike I found myself less interested in the actual game and noticing things that maybe others weren't looking at. Like number 41. I think number 41 either forgot to go to the bathroom before the game started or he had a problem.
He did the potty dance a lot.


Jig jig, one foot to the other, slightly turned out foot and also he fiddled. Endlessly, perhaps he felt that he wasn't getting the ball enough and just made do with his own because I kid you not, he hardly left himself alone. 2 handed readjusting. Maybe his tight underwear was too tight, something wasn't right anyway. He picked up near the end and was pretty good for someone so afflicted, I was impressed and Billy noticed how red his face was from the exertion, I wonder if it was his too tight underpants that caused his ruddy complexion.
Just before we went into the game I noticed that my hands were itchy. Ow that itches, look at those little blistery things right there.....oh no. The lurgy. The no-one knows what it is hand thing again. I last had it when Eli was a tiny baby. Something makes my hands swell, it starts with a tiny spot or two, blistery spots that itch and burn like nothing else I have ever had ( and let's be honest I am queen of itchy) right now, 7 hours later ( 2.07am) my hands are maybe twice the regular size. My fingers are so tight they won't bend and they hurt me.
I am just a big old wreck.
Shoot me.
I found the cream that usually works but it is 2 1/2 years out of date, I will get more tomorrow I hope because it is usually miraculous.
Seth just loved the whole evening from start to finish, basketball is his passion. It is a rare thing indeed to find something that H and I enjoy on the same level and this was definite success, we will absolutely be going again.
At last I think I am ready for bed, tomorrow is another busy day, we have 10 kids coming over for the morning. Life isn't bad at all in our house.

another post ...same day.

I love the recycling center, got my Isaac a bike. Today his new teacher called me as I collected him, suddenly last week he joined in P.E. ( I suspect it was the superfast new running shoes he got) Today, he CHANGED INTO HIS P.E KIT! This is simply huge. For 2 years he has had his P.E kit in his bag ( white shorts, green t-shirt) but it has never seen the light of day. She said today he just got changed, not a word, went and did it and joined in like a regular kid. Why does this all worry me? Am I afraid that he will suddenly go backwards? Not sure. Am I afraid that he will stop being my Isaac and just be like every other kid. Maybe. He is so unique and so divine. I see him growing taller and changing every day and I am so sad at the loss of that tiny little man who just adored me and needed no-one else. Incredibly selfish of me to want that for longer when he is so happy to be able to do so much with the other kids. I don't want him NOT to do it, it's hard to explain except to say it felt like he would be mine for longer or something and now he is barrelling ahead and leaving that sweet gentle boy in the past. Maybe he will always be gentle and right now he is so busy being brave that he forgets that quite side a little.
Elijah is divine at the moment, there is something so glorious about having children that stop people in their tracks. Today I was taking Seth to class and a lady stopped to talk to us, she stopped for a second, stroked Eli's head and said " oh my, you are just completely beautiful. Absolutely. Just beautiful" All in a day's work thought the boy and carried on.
Seth is a great little man, there was such joy at Isaac's news that he wore his P.E kit, such celebration. Quietly a little voice said " Well, actually I always wear mine and also, I have to do very hard work in year 3"
How easy to forget the child who just plods on and does what is expected without pomp and circumstance. We have tickets tomorrow night to an honest to goodness basket ball game, can you imagine that? 40 miles away and playing against a real American team. Cheerleaders the works. Seth knows that being consistantly obedient and hard working brings it's own rewards. Sometimes it must be difficult to hear the cheers for something so mundane and taken for granted.
Pictures, here's some more.




WHOA careful Isaac!


Strong and wiry that's what he is.



Keep pedalling Eli boy!



Trying to be cool, saying " look Isaac! I do dith!"

So I met this man who knew a man who knew....

That title is most likely the most understandable part of this next post, take a Tylenol now, you may need it.
Today, well no money went into the bank. Ugh. Off we go again, went into the benefits office and ....oh hang on, I missed a bit.
You know landlady B said that we can move into a long term house as soon as it is vacated, she said it was occupied right now by a 'madman' who was trashing it. So, we were told it was empty and we drove by yesterday, just to look at it. Empty. Except for the trash and broken furniture, the smashed this and that, the broken pipes, the weeds, you know how it looks, same old same old. WE did see that it could be a lovely house ( RING RING..ALARM BELLS WALK AWAY NOW!) but still, no garden, no parking, top of steep hill, no thankyou.
Back to benefits office. I was approached by a scary man, piercings, goatie beard with bizarre bead things on the ends. Tattoos perhaps, but was so terrified I forgot to look away from his eyes ( quite nice ones) he walked up to me and said
" you been to my house?"
"Pardon me?"
"have you been over to my house at steep hill crap filled garden road?"
"Well, we were there yesterday, yes"
" You and your husband"
"yes, that's right" ( gripping buttock cheeks in fear)
" Why?"
"Well, Bridget is our landlady, do I need to say anymore?"
"Oh my God....she is going to put you in there isn't she?"
"well she wants to but we have said no"
"And you used to live at .....beautiful Barn and before that perfect house in town?"
( oh my sweet heaven, the man with the piercings and beads and scariness knows my whole life story)
" Please tell me you aren't living in Derelict shit house?"
"well we are, except now it is a bit lovely and smells nice and we did it all and landlady has disappeared on holiday.....now we have no money and are in dire straights..."
Rest of story cut short. Madman isn't mad, he is victim of being landlady's friend and has been seriously screwed over, as are we. He had with him a social worker who has helped him and who told us the steps to try and undo some of this mess. Also he said that we are on solid ground with the council now, this house is CONDEMNED and she knew it. He said to contact environmental health, get them out to see what is going on and the state of things. He said that even though we have fixed it up it is still unsuitable and as such, added to the reputation landlady now has with the council ( at least 3 other families are taking action against her) we stand a very high chance of getting the help we need.
Amazing ( and yet still quite scary) that this man was where I was, I sort of laughed and told him how frightening it is that he knew we had been at the old house, that he knew where we were etc. then he explained that while we were at the perfect house in town he had been out to make repairs on the bathroom, ding ding..recall that. He said he also rented from her and despite asking for repairs to be done, she refused and as a result a ceiling fell on his daughter, when he complained, that is when things turned nasty for him. He also said the biggest mistake he made was imagining that he could be 'friends' with landlady and that she had his best interests at heart. So when his neighbours had told him who they had seen at the house, he remembered us, knew the other houses she owned and put 2 and 2 together as to where we might be now.
So, I have now been to the council office and have a specific plan in hand as to what to do next. It is going to be tough and I suspect not fun. I still don't have the tenancy agreement in hand, until we have that we are on incredibly shaky ground. I am trying to get in touch with her partner and see if I can get HIM to get me an agreement immediately, otherwise we have another week probably until we are anyway covered.
It all sounds complicated and it is, although we are told that we actually have the upper hand. I hate confrontation, this time I will have to bite the bullet and just do it. This woman has taken advantage and we have been foolish enough to think we are helping and also gaining from this relationship. A lesson learned is that we should have kept things professional, and as slow and irritating as it may have been we should have expected her to do repairs, asked her to keep things written and formal, we will be making sure that from now that is the way things will be done.
Who knows what will happen from here, I hope Mr pierced face and goatie beads doesn't take it upon himself to visit us. Oh dear. Anyone got a house we can move to????
Oh and by the way I managed to sort out the money situation for now but if she doesn't hurry up and get that blasted tenancy agreement to us soon it could all come undone again. Ptttttttttttthhhhhhhhhhhh.
But then I walk out of my door and ahhhhhhhhh, look, *sigh* Happy.





Crunchy gravel and pretty pots all ready to burst into gorgeousness.




Happy Mallow tree.



Hmmm, still have a large pot, hanging basket and .........no, must not go to delightful garden center and buy plants and perhaps have a hot chocolate and feel as though life is really alright and everything is under control, or maybe that is EXACTLY what I should do. Votes and opinions please and anyone want to come with me?? Jane? Adele? Debbie? Julie? Gemma? You know you want to......

My name is Helen and I am a pot addict.

There, glad that's out in the open. Always best to just be honest I think. So, that's me, a pot addict. Flower pots, garden tubs, hanging pots and baskets. I love them, they make my heart sing and my feet tap, they make my face smile, even when it's still a bit sore ( but I won't go on about that anymore, I promise).
My mum made me a pot or two for the barn, which were pretty but I sort of let them go a bit crispy because I was looking at paddocks and sheep and vast expanses of loveliness, the pots were a bit forgotten ( though appreciated in their forgotten sort of way) Also at the barn were 2 year round pots, one each side of the front door that were pretty and welcoming and gloriously unkillable. I particularly liked those ones because they just kept being lovely even when they were dry and gasping for some attention and you know, water.
This house, poor thing, is looking so much better but still a little sad and unloved. Trying to look all smart and 'LOOK AT ME! I am CLEAN!" crunchy gravel and new doorbells have made it feel precious and more inclined to make us feel happy when we drive in the driveway ( over a bridge no less, I could even exaggerate that and make out we have a moat or something but you've seen the pictures, it's a pretty stream with a bridge and tiny wall.)
My mallow tree ( in a pot because we keep moving, did I tell you that? and have trees will travel, shan't leave trees behind for new people, charity be damned!)
It still needs something though, so I bought some pots. Also some plants. I am now stuck in this catch 33, ( altogether more muddling than a catch 22, naturally) I bought 3 huge bags of compost, 3 for £6.99, and some tubs, some pretty evergreen shrubby things and some autumn pansies. That kind of thing.
Then it begins. Fill pots, have compost left over, but few more pots and flowers, run out of compost, buy more compost........you get the picture.
I have now got a hanging basket and a bracket and even a husband to hang the bracket and basket. Some more pots and a few more pansies, also a hardy ( we like that word when attached to plants and things about to be tended by me) Fuscia.
I find myself walking out of ( and back into) the front door and every time saying " awwwwww" or not even saying anything but just sighing and then sighing again. I find my thoughts wandering to bad and evil people who might come in the night and steal my pots. Let 'em try.
The front of the house is beginning to look happy and infinitely more loved. Good job me.
I shall ( of course) take pictures when I run out of either pots or compost or flowers again. I am going to have to get firm with myself and at some stage will have to say 'enough'. Just not yet.
I have more to say on a totally different subject but my legs are twitching and I am in need of a lie down.

S'not funny.

School is back, which means snotty noses. Eli seems to get a snotty nose within minutes of going back to nursery. I Went to collect him today and when it is coming home time, the kids all sit cross legged on the mats waiting for us to get them. I came in and they called his name and he stood up......stripey t-shirt, denim shorts and the most glorious tulle tu-tu with fluffy balls and sparkle on, it would seem his reluctance to disclose his penchant for all things frilly at nursery has been banished. He stood tall and proud with his 'stirt' on.
" I say! How glamorous" said I.
"Yes" said Louise, " we are letting him explore his feelings" as though this was a new thing and there was a chance that I might freak out at the sight of my sweet boy in his frills. I am always so overwhelmed by how much joy he seems to feel in his sparkles and fru-fruness that I forget it is bizarre! Not helped by falling asleep on the sofa the other evening and waking up around 1am in the middle of a Maury show about transvestites. Every one of those men ( in their way over the top feathers and frills) talked about how they needed to wear girls clothes from when they were 4 or 5.
I know that to worry is a waste of time, what will be will be, I know all the stories of brothers and sons and people I know who loved all the dressing up and girlie things when they were little and growing out of it never to be discovered in suspenders and stockings in the back bedroom at the age of 32, but really, I don't like this too much, it is lasting an incredibly long time and as cute as it is ( and it really is quite sweet) I really wish he would grow out of it. That said, I am so used to it that I find myself looking at the baby size 9 pink and shiny shoes when we are out because he would just about die in bliss if he had his own pair of slip on pink things. Can't do it though. Mean mummy.

I am catching up on sleep, in a most impressive way. If I am still for longer than 3 minutes, I am asleep. Sitting up, lying down, out for the count. Snoring probably, as my head is so stuffy and sore, snoozing and sleeping and barely able to drag myself back to the land of the living. I sat outside the school yesterday waiting for the boys, reading a magazine, sunshine pouring through the windows....woke up drooling all over my chin, what a pretty sight that must have been for anyone walking past! How weird is that feeling of knowing you have to wake up, feeling your head trying to get working again and just not making it? I never do that. I go from deep sleep to UP AND AT IT in seconds. Asleep, awake.......off, on, off, on. This whole fog brain thing is incredible to me, I quite like it and it has made me understand that whole alarm clock, snooze button thing I have heard about.
I have never used an alarm clock. I tell myself what time I have to be awake and somehow, right on time, I am AWAKE. Up and out of bed. Not always ready to talk but awake. I'm quite enjoying this whole sleepy, dozing, in another place experience but I think it'll drive me crazy if it isn't a temporary thing.
On that note ( whoops sat still for too long, just found myself staring into space and feeling that nodding off whoozy thing coming on) have to go and lie down and enjoy some floating and sleeping and letting it all go time. Relaxing is nice isn't it? Very nice indeed.

Finished, I will mention it no more!

She did touch it, dug it out, suctioned it, packed it with a foul smelling antibiotic paste, gave me more antibiotics and sent me on my way, without making me cry, which was a miracle because I was very close to snot crying at the thought of sitting in that chair. I am convinced I am going to be fine now ( 6 hours since painkillers and am not screaming or even staring at the drugs shelf longingly, yeay!)
Have had a nice roast chicken dinner ( that tasted of metal and vile paste stuff but was good because I have eaten nothing but soft jam sandwiches and chocolate that melts and needs no chewing .. lovely chocolate, never lets you down does it?)
Kids have been back at school for a few days, am beginning to remember why I like school. Early to bed, peace and quiet for hours at a time and also........

emails like this

Helen, can you make it for a lunch date on Friday 14th at 12.30 at the (edited to cross out name so mad internet people don't come and kill us)......(my shout)?I have also asked Julie, Jane, susan and will ask lin .(NOT my shout) ha.love Deb

Do you love that my lunch is being paid for? Splendid. School is very nice, we like it muchly.
Isaac is settling well, in fact I am sort of stunned at how well. He is talking ( has been called a chatterbox even) and seems happy enough when I leave him in the morning. As long as we get there before anyone else so it is quiet, he will find a seat, let me read with him and then allow me to leave without clutching and staring at me with tear filled eyes and heartbreaking silent sobs.
Elijah is a bit clingy, impossible to believe but we seem to have cracked that by saying " right then, Nursery for you and you absolutely must not have any fun, got it? No fun, none at all," to which he replies " Yes I will....I AM going to have fun" and then he does. Marvellous, might be stupid to be encouraging such disobedience but hey ho, go with what works is what I say at this stage.
Oh it is so lovely to be sitting here with no face pain. ~None~ Oh joy please let it last. I am perfectly giddy with exhaustion following these last few days , I am almost as relieved as you must be that it is seemingly over.
Who knows, tomorrow I might even have something to say that makes sense and doesn't mention drugs or violence even. Imagine that!

Am on my way.....

Back to the dentist because heaven forbid they can just get me a script, oh no, I have to go in and sit in the chair. I am out of brave. I am a quivering stupid lump of don't touch this.
So, for Magda, my dentist, this one's for you.




You can look ,but you better not touch. I will weep and wail and beg for relief. DO NOT TOUCH MY MOUTH. Thankyou.

Had to laugh....

I just read that post from last night. Honestly, if I am like that on paracetamol ( tylenol) and ibuprofen, wouldn't you just love to go out with me and get me drunk? What the blazes was going on in my head ( apart from the buzzing and the throbbing and the overwhelming need to get out of that painful head??) I have been a woozy slug today, still throbbing and now we have that sort of cold sweating sort of please let my head fall onto something soft and take away the noise and also....stop looking at me because it hurts.
The boys had an afternoon of the kind that makes you long for some strength just so you can punch them hard to shut them the hell up.
Endless running at each other whilst screeching and yelling things like " STOP LOOKING AT ME!" ( Who complains about having people look at them? Who? Oh alright, me but that's only because my face hurts and somehow the pain has made my ears a frazillion times more sensitive and I swear the sound of H's leg hair growing is about to rupture my ear drums, 3 kids with gobs like foghorns screaming about how the other 2 are looking at them and OH MY HELL! He touched me.)
Today was a day where I was reminded about how God has a great sense of humour. I taught my class at church ( 9x 10 and 11 year old girls who I adore) and we discussed how easy it is to make a difference in this world, just by saying a small positive thing at the right time etc. I told them that I was absolutely going to work hard this week on not shouting and also, I was going to take a leaf out of H's book and be more Christlike, and patient. I would stop and think and.......



"IF YOU DON'T STOP THIS INSANE SHOUTING AND RUNNING AND SCREAMING I SWEAR ON ALL I HAVE THAT I WILL FIND THE ENERGY FROM SOMEWHERE GET UP AND ...NO! NO! GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW AND GET YOUR ARSE ON THAT CHAIR AND SHUT YOUR MOUTH, DON'T YOU DARE ....I SAID DON'T.....HEY, JUST TRY IT, PUT THAT DOWN AND DO NOT DARE THROW IT!!! Dear Lord give me patience but can you make it quick?!!! "

I can so see the Lord and all His angels, busting a gut over me, standing on a cloud saying " Oh....oh can you believe it? She lasted less than 35 minutes, I knew she wouldn't do it, she is such a hoot, I love it when she says she is going to be patient, all we have to do it make those boys just a tiny bit more wild than normal and she loses it! What a laugh she is"
Tomorrow I will call the dentist and get some meds that will kick this into touch, I think my antibiotics pilfered from the cupboard have taken the edge off but maybe they aren't the right ones to really knock it dead. I want it gone and better once and for all. Please.

Body and soul.

Amazing how life can be so dictated by either one or the other...or both. The older I get the more I see that it is a fine line between perfect and horrible depending on how your body and soul are doing.
This tooth thing has been a nightmare. When she pulled that stinking tooth out I imagined I would feel better, relieved that the pain was gone.
Nuh-uh. There was a rotten infection in there that seemed to be unleashed when the tooth was gone, typically I spent friday thinking that the pain I was feeling was a result of the force needed to dislodge and remove that tooth and it's 3 foot root, oh alright, not really but I do think it was actually attached to the 3rd rib down on the right, I am pretty sure I felt that rib snap as she used that lever tool thing, a metal tool of torture that was shoved in under the tooth ( after it had been drilled in half) and ( might be making this part up but I don't think so) had a seat on the other end, 7 dwarves, the dentist, her assistant, my ex husband and at least 3 other people who bear me a grudge sat on the seat and bounced, causing the tooth to fly out, thus followed a celebration of great magnitude by the crowd in the dental surgery and some tears and a few "thankyou dear Lord"s from me.
"It is over," I whispered, as I wiped the sweat from my brow and the blood from around my mouth. I staggered from the surgery walking sideways and stumbling into the walls a time or two, enjoying the fresh air and feeling of joy at still being alive. Also, the glorious dead mouth, nose and right ear. No feeling, pins and needles and nothing more. I do remember lisping and commenting something like " ha, my babieth came out eathier than that damn tooth... I think my jaw will be really thore when that deadneth wearth of huh?"
The dentist and dental nurse nodded and rather tactfully said over and over.
" that was a tough one alright, phew!"
So, friday I took many painkillers and gargled with salt water. I rubbed my cheek and jaw quite tenderly and marvelled to myself about how long this was taking to feel better. I was more than a little snappy with people who were breathing around me, who walked past me and caused a breeze that slapped my painful face and selfish gits who still wanted to, you know, eat and stuff, even though my mouth was so bloody painful and had a gaping hole of much pain ( how does something that isn't there hurt? Bizarre!)
I don't even remember what other people ate, yesterday is sort of a fuzz to me, nice tablets, thankyou.
By 2am I was a pacing animal, luckily the rest of my family was asleep because the pain was making me crazy and I knew that this wasn't normal.
Ooooh, I know, get that thing, you know, the thing you bought that came with the sharp thing. ( you understand I wasn't thinking terribly clearly. Pain + drugs = idiot) I bought one of those dental kits with the weapon like deal you can scrape tartar off your teeth with ( lovely, try not to picture it, it's right up there with thinking about other peoples' toenails or earwax) Well, I bought one of those and with it came a mirror on a stick so you can check if you really did manage to scrape off that horrible hard tooth crud properly.
So yes, 'Oooh, go and get it and look at the hole and see what is going on' ( at 2.25am) Oh dear heavens, what was going on was a gaping hole filled with pus. Lots of swelling and greenness and stomach churning surity that this is not how it all should look. What to do what to do is middle of night and now am sure I will never sleep with pain and visions of oozing green stuff that is IN MY MOUTH.
Ooh, OOOOOOHHHH look in medicine cupboard again.
( disclaimer to all medical people, ignore the next bit, I know all the 'GASP' never DO THAT stuff)
Anti biotics, prescribed to H for something that obviously didn't bother him too much because he didn't take them and there they were, all red and yellow and promising to make me well and kill green stuff. So I took one, managed to sleep my usual 3 hours ( does that mean I slept well? I did sleep as long as I normally do after all) and woke up at 7am with my cheek throbbing and my face aching fit to explode. Take another one and repeat 3 more times in the day.
It is now 11.35pm and I am thrilled to report that my hole feels like a sore hole now. A gazzillion times better than feeling like a booby trap bomb hole. The H meds are working. I actually went 6 hours without having to shove handfuls of tablets down my throat in a frenzy of ' oh please let these work and not react to each other or kill me or anything, just let them stop the pain. Please!' Paracetamol, ibuprofen, dihydrocodiene and a migromax powder because they stop migraines, maybe they will stop face rot pain too, please Lord.
My throat hurts because I assume (and might believe that I am now qualified as a doctor/dentist having diagnosed and treated and prescribed drugs for myself so effectively and all) that the pus ran down my throat and spread it's horrible soreness and revoltingness down there as well.
My head sort of hurts but more in a 'bloody hell, those drugs were pretty good but what the hell??' way rather than 'ow, have headache' way.
I am almost sure that if I were to stagger up the stairs right now I would be able to sleep. I forced myself to look with the mirror on a stick thingermebob, looks much calmer and less oozy already.
Hoorah.
The whole point I am wanting to make ( there is a point! imagine!) is that more and more I see that to function well, my body and my soul need to be on an even keel. If my body is out of whack, off par, my soul tends to fret. Everything seems more dismal, it is so much harder for me to see things rationally and it.is.all.so.hopeless. As I start to feel better, LOOK! sunshine and all is well, we can conquer. I am amazing. Etc.
When my spirit is sad, when my mind is in the depths of despair...my body goes to hell in a handbasket and all kinds of weird shinnanigans start going on.
One of these days you will come here and could be forgiven for thinking that you hit the wrong button. I have visions of becoming an organic only vegan sort of girl. Actually, my head is on it's way there, I envision my life as a wholegrain crusty loaf buying, basket carrying, filtered water and leather hand made sandal wearer quite often. Usually when I am scoffing a mars bar and driving the 300 yards to the supermarket to stock my cupboards with e numbers and sugar. The mind is willing.......the body is still on auto pilot dragging me to Asda at the moment. One step at a time, one step at a time.
I want to get my body and soul working together, I really do.
Keep delurking, I like it, say hello and show me who you are and where you are , my google analytics thing isn't working at the moment, could be when I changed my sign in whatsits, I think it doesn't realise I am me and so has gone on holiday somewhere far far away. When all the drugs are out of my system I shall see if I can gather enough brain cells together and reset it all so I can click and marvel at how many people pop in to read about my day.
I can snigger and cringe at what key words bring people here ( just love whoever typed 'how can I look up rude things without my mum finding out' absolutely hate and want to gouge out eyes of perverts who type in 'little boys' and then come here......may those creatures know eternal misery.)
I sake my head at the fact that 250 people can come by and yet only 3 or 4 say hello. Go, on! say hello.
In the back of my dusty mind I have the beginnings of some pretty cool ideas. Some ideas of how I can change my life and make an enormous difference. Might take a while to get them all together and then start acting on them. Nice to have new thoughts though. Always nice to have some new thoughts, the old ones are so dull nowadays.

Hello left hand, said the right hand..what have you been up to?

I won't bore you with details ( or maybe I will, who can tell, once I start there are times I find it hard to stop, did you know that about me?) all I can say is that here in the UK, the country I love and am so happy to live in, there are different benefits agencies. It would appear that one has no idea what the other is doing. So, having spoken to one ( the one who said that I am no longer eligible for benefits) for several days, and today was told to call another one, it would appear that even though ( and I beg to differ on their decision because I am a scared old bag who shakes at the slightest challenge and although my blog would lull anyone into believing I am a bit confident and brazen, actually I can usually scarcely remember my name, my address is beyond me, ask me where I lived 3 houses but only 9 weeks ago and I say things like " that big house, the one I really liked, you know it was near the post office" ) I am deemed fit and able to work full time, the fact that I am here with a husband who can't go out to work ( although in theory he could, in reality it isn't going to work out that way and we have long accepted that and love having him here doing so much that I cannot imagine having to do myself) and my Isaac who needs extra care, not to mention the other 2, well it would seem that it is understood that I am needed here and the money is not being stopped, nor reduced or changed in any way.
Thankyou Lord and also England.
I sort of felt the last couple of days that people would wonder about H in all this. My answer to that is well, H is H and this is my blog. I don't want to discuss him as if he isn't here ( when he is..right over there eating his rhubarb and apple crumble and custard) and what his issues are are not for discussion. Not here anyway, here he just gets praised and honoured because he is a perfectly splendid man. He wears good hats and slippers ( usually not at the same time) he is my steadying thing.
When I weep and rage and panic and wail, he sits and he waits. He pats arms and he strokes backs, he does dishes and he clears jungles. He says " good job and well done and OK, very good" when I say I am just going here or there or need, or want or have done.
When I have been a snarling bear with the little people who make my ears bleed at times, when my patience has snapped and unravelled, he quietly says things like "hmm, overwhelming tonight, that Eli is a git huh?" and I know it isn't just me but he can manage to hold in his grumpiness until I am in control again.
I used to wish that he was a whizz of a business man , a financial genius who would bring home huge pay cheques and let me spend them. I often wondered where my determination to marry for money the 'next time' had gone and how loud the angels had laughed when my heart sort of tugged in this man's direction. I don't think that way anymore because I see 3 little boys who have a life I could never have imagined, not even in my most dreamiest of dreams.
I see him putting together an 'office' for little boys to sit in and relax.



I hear him reading and bringing magic into little boys' lives every day.
Riches indeed.
That said the 'git' has come back downstairs, I should go and be nice to him because he has been a particularly annoying git today and might be wondering if I am ever going to be nice to him again. Even the goofy smile and puppy eyes don't cut it when he has been a gitlike as he has been today. I do like to send them to sleep feeling that they made it through another day without being sold to the gypsies though, so I shall go over and grit my teeth ( one less in number and gaping hole seems still to be throbbing like the very devil) and be a nice mummy in the hope that he will please go to sleep and stop talking to me because it is 9.45 and I stop liking children at 7pm. Maybe it is time to stop the naps after all. Damn.