tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32981018545736830662024-03-18T19:52:42.846-07:00Blethering BoysBlethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.comBlogger198125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-86370477105091774672021-05-17T11:28:00.008-07:002021-05-17T11:31:23.939-07:00Motherland; Good For Whatever Soul I Have Left<p> I'm really enjoying Motherland on <a href="https://www.netflix.com/gb/" target="_blank">Netflix</a> just now.</p><p>If you haven't caught it yet - have a go. It is a somewhat slightly exaggerated take on the trials and tribulations of parenting school-age children and the school-gate politics that arise.</p><p>As a mama to three boys and having dealt with the school gates for the last 13 years, I can find a wee bit of myself and people I know in each of the characters.</p><p>I'm no fan of trying to make mum pals - in fact, I flat out suck at it. </p><p>It's caused me a lot of heartache and confusion over the years.</p><p>I've come to the conclusion that actually, I am far too eclectic, too full of dark humour and just not 'proper' enough to make it with the 'in' crowd and actually, I have totally given up.</p><p>On a Motherland scale of Amanda to Liz, I am 100% a Liz.</p><p><br /></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwz8ZLXCacUUOM-Y4hIjxINF4_Szw0Ri_H3PrSw6IamQhrnOZUfUo2GB9emhGkRnheQY9gMzbE7V04n09LEHApdCYjUT7yk2Z9J5iy5G6z3WBu7jJttT96eqCnhg-eP1hacudpUwlWUnA/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="300" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwz8ZLXCacUUOM-Y4hIjxINF4_Szw0Ri_H3PrSw6IamQhrnOZUfUo2GB9emhGkRnheQY9gMzbE7V04n09LEHApdCYjUT7yk2Z9J5iy5G6z3WBu7jJttT96eqCnhg-eP1hacudpUwlWUnA/" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diane Morgan as Liz in the brilliant Motherland</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>From the moment she chopped her own finger off slicing frozen cheese for Julia and calmly headed off to A&E after doing her own first-aid, to the drunken promises she made on behalf of Julia and Kevin for the school fundraiser, I can totally relate to being the outsider who just does herself and fuck whatever anyone else thinks. I appreciate her down-to-earth take on things, her patience, her wit and I absolutely see her dogged determination to survive and make sense of whatever shitty hand she is dealt.</p><p>As a mum at a small-ish village school, in a relatively higher class area, I stick out like a sore thumb.</p><p>I'm not well-off enough to carry off anything classy. Messy bun? Tick. Running late? Epically. Tick!</p><p>I'm the one whose son wears princess dresses because he can if he wants, who champions unbranded school uniforms to keep the cost of the school day down for everyone, and asks awkward questions around fundraising. I'm a rule-bender, a risk-taker and someone who speaks their mind.</p><p> My kids are not in the expensive swim team, football club, art club or drama group, nor are they sporty. I let them spend a lot of time on their computers. We have very loose bedtimes at weekends. </p><p>I can't afford to send them to the various 'lovely' activities the other kids enjoy, nor do we massively value academia. We would rather the kids were safe, happy and loving what they do, because we both tried hugely and did all the right things, kicked our own arses to get the grades and have struggled ever since!</p><p>As two people who have been very roughly shafted by the world in the pursuit of such stuff, we are more than a little disillusioned and probably a wee bit traumatised, and so we are focused on raising our kids to be decent people with kind, compassionate, inclusive values, where you aren't afraid to roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty and where you open your mind to as much as possible - we can't begin to imagine a world for our kids where fitting in with an ever-decreasing elite of paid-for opportunity and outstanding grades at all costs would be a 'good' thing to do.</p><p>Me and my husband both work in the third sector - not only do we both know what it is like to live in relative poverty and deal with the many social, physical and emotional challenges it brings, we also spend our days scooping up other people who are dealing with the effects; the time for giving a shit about manicured lawns or whether our cars are immaculate is not really now for us. </p><p>Is everyone fed, clothed, washed, happy, achieving, nurtured and well-humoured though? Yes! Isn't that what counts? </p><p>Does our lack of care around some of the finer details come off as bad parenting? </p><p>Probably.</p><p>I am tired. My life has been a fucking struggle. Girl, I am surviving and I will absolutely take that.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_SvD26RzoRwkPZSKOLUnVCQ58SKD4J6XvrfT31Vj30a8MTiG9ab4wgNLwT7dGZLKVdZRnMo-892dMgBfrNVGSmbWwVUtU_0Omhp7BW8gFLwtgBJVSxrvI-jP6VZoMyY83tNPyoSpL_A/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="568" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_SvD26RzoRwkPZSKOLUnVCQ58SKD4J6XvrfT31Vj30a8MTiG9ab4wgNLwT7dGZLKVdZRnMo-892dMgBfrNVGSmbWwVUtU_0Omhp7BW8gFLwtgBJVSxrvI-jP6VZoMyY83tNPyoSpL_A/" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>Motherland tackles this to some degree. It encompasses the spectrum of mother characters quite aptly; the single mum, the stay at home mum, the stay at home dad, the seemingly-has-it-all mum, the queen bee mum and her side-kick and the mum who has run out of shits and just wants to get through it.</p><p>Joining the school PTA has become a recent favourite weird pastime for me - I'm not sure the Head Teacher knows what to do with me. </p><p>Here's the woman he has pegged as an incompetent mother (veiled very thinly) showing up, giving a shit, interacting, giving opinions that he finds he 9/10 actually agrees with and it's always entertaining on the Zoom call (with the brilliant rural wifi 1.5 second lag) inadvertently showcasing my dark humour, which the other mums really don't seem to understand. </p><p>The dark humour usually comes out around some of the more mundane topics, like dog shit or parking and I can't help myself. It's been nearly two hours talking about dog poop and I start making quips, and it's like unleashing the beast. And guess what? Apparently, <i>giggling about dog poop on kids shoes isn't that funny, Genna. </i></p><p>"Why am I such an outcast?" I'll sob to Dave (usually the day before my period when the world is a dark black spot of shit and everything is pressing harder on me than usual).</p><p>I tried to make mum friends - I really did. I suck at it. I'm in the wrong area; outcast, out-resourced and outnumbered. I'm in a weird middle ground and I guess I have resigned myself to a lifetime of lonlieness.</p><p>Fuck it.</p><p>For now I'm taking my solace in Motherland and enjoying their take on Mum life.</p><p>If you are like me and feel totally left out of the mum circle with no hope of getting in any time soon, give it a watch.</p><p>It's a source of real comfort in an ever-weird and confusing world of parent politics.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-41172029662633208952021-05-16T12:37:00.006-07:002021-05-16T12:37:56.116-07:00A Lonesome Walk<p> Yesterday was the 6 year anniversary of our us becoming home-owners, and as I woke up yesterday and saw this on my Facebook memories, it gave me a sense of how far we have come in the last 6 years, but also how hard the struggle has been.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsLZLPFVFN2kjNT2v62rLgegqxVyE3iDhrPfQWWvvlQGGya75UaM2iH4Fdjc3EjmbuhBcZgTFwB4XYDUfu1K3wuQ-qwv2Rl2hMI-wrR2WfY3pjHp1WrJoS13FPVzNhd7wgBkv8kpRQ_YQ/s4624/20210310_115514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsLZLPFVFN2kjNT2v62rLgegqxVyE3iDhrPfQWWvvlQGGya75UaM2iH4Fdjc3EjmbuhBcZgTFwB4XYDUfu1K3wuQ-qwv2Rl2hMI-wrR2WfY3pjHp1WrJoS13FPVzNhd7wgBkv8kpRQ_YQ/s320/20210310_115514.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always decorating, eh, Doll?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>We have battled against so much to barely keep our heads above water, and here we are this weekend, on the 6-year-versary basically starting all over again. Except maybe perhaps, with the heating finally going in, on slightly better footing.</p><p>At least this year we won't be sleeping with our hats on and in sleeping bags under our duvets.</p><p>It also struck home with me this weekend, just how much we have had to do alone. </p><p>I have written before about looking for that village when it comes to parenting, and the ever-changing scenery surrounding modern parenthood which sees a dearth of support in today's busy world. </p><p>Well, we moved to a literal village and our already-wee world has shrunk considerably.</p><p>In 6 years we haven't had any child-free overnight time, and I can probably count on two hands the amount of child-free time we have had. And probably on one hand how many of those times were actually date nights just for us and not fulfilling social commitments like work-related dinners or wedding invites.</p><p>We have to have a really good excuse to get a babysitter.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdlLYtEpAbSnJ-nFy2oWtqqTlQmPhpg4JWGTzcSPMdByHu72jMJJbyM7pafmgIXoFlxEBYeD2foBrm5a3cK5pLwSoh-RXcMmzVJi5BegTM8wKsZ64D_E_kHmOTiOy5NSFH9PFMcwO1-Eg/s2448/20210318_132116_03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdlLYtEpAbSnJ-nFy2oWtqqTlQmPhpg4JWGTzcSPMdByHu72jMJJbyM7pafmgIXoFlxEBYeD2foBrm5a3cK5pLwSoh-RXcMmzVJi5BegTM8wKsZ64D_E_kHmOTiOy5NSFH9PFMcwO1-Eg/s320/20210318_132116_03.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Date" hour. Lunch hour.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Our own "date" nights have lost all real purpose and meaning - they are usually snatched bits of time which have a lot of pressure attached to them to be back quickly or be on call for any complications. </p><p>At least working from home has meant that we have managed to catch up on that - though there's nothing magical about watching each other do Zoom calls all day.</p><p>I guess it just makes me feel a bit sad sometimes that we are missing that support. </p><p>Instead we have had to power on and find ways to get through it, and it hasn't always been pretty.</p><p>There have been many times we have totally lost our shit with each other, and sometimes the screaming loneliness that comes with the territory at times can be all-consuming. </p><p>Not having another adult (who isn't Dave) there to help break up the day-to-day, not having someone else to take on the load of loving these kids is hard. It's really tough to stretch ourselves between all three sometimes, and once you have, there isn't much time for much else, especially if you have a lot to do, like, say, a house renovation! </p><p>It's counter-productive too - we live in a perpetual mess, so you feel constantly ashamed of the state of your house. We rarely have visitors. And when we do, it is a massive operation to get things looking semi-normal(ish). </p><p>*sigh*</p><p>We. Are. Shattered.</p><p>Factor in job changes, home working and Covid, and we are basically a self-supporting commune of 5.</p><p>Looking back on the last 6 years this weekend has just made me feel shit. </p><p>Really shit.</p><p>And really beat up.</p><p>I worry constantly about this whole thing - we live in a constant state of flux and the kids have had to come along for the ride, because mum and dad are so fucking stretched, they have no choice. We have had to be their everything to them all the time; is it enough?</p><p>And that's the real middle-of-the-night stuff, isn't it? That's the stuff that keeps you up and makes you panic.</p><p>Our house is crazy. It's set to get crazier in the next few weeks. We have so much decorating, structural work and sorting to do.</p><p>Another struggle.</p><p>Another challenge.</p><p>Man, I am so tired.</p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-99986601151349942021-05-12T18:58:00.001-07:002021-05-12T18:58:08.081-07:00Moving in the house<p>Well, we moved the bedrooms round.</p><p><br /></p><p>After 3 years of letting the kids have their own rooms, which were wasted, <i>wasted </i>on them, we managed to convince the older two to share again (I don't know what kind of twilight world we have slipped into), O has his own room, and Dave and I finally got our light, airy, lovely main bedroom back.</p><p>It's amazing.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg05v9KxD0zQx8lU6AJArLHUc2D9WqBfjSNR9HXFakfwAyY0T7t_o80BsoUaRSL9W02hQWrBidwajkmNQVuQVqVG2H3EkRDQKMDn10cE5602NHkSxcc8-Ey9vmV905UiCVreLZAMJzf-W4/s3264/IMG_20200623_143109998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg05v9KxD0zQx8lU6AJArLHUc2D9WqBfjSNR9HXFakfwAyY0T7t_o80BsoUaRSL9W02hQWrBidwajkmNQVuQVqVG2H3EkRDQKMDn10cE5602NHkSxcc8-Ey9vmV905UiCVreLZAMJzf-W4/s320/IMG_20200623_143109998.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>For the first time in 3 years I have my own space, it's quiet, it's peaceful, I am getting loads done and I am absolutely kicking butt.</p><p><br /></p><p>Except I'm not really.</p><p><br /></p><p>We are getting new heating in this time next week, so we have SO MUCH TO DO, I don't even know where to begin.</p><p>Dave is on one - he literally spends all day sitting at his computer moaning about how busy he isn't at work, then tonight he sauntered out to the shops with all three kids, reappearing at 6pm, kids eating handfuls of sweets, and having missed O's dance class, which was PAID FOR, dammit!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEBBpoRjGhzvayui6tqnqq6-gupLIP27bx2RPNj9dSe8FhnCyFm5x_jWvUfEXH3KbIpIy6qPSWsJnelpNhZS0SUN07ZGuEVtDacr1dtt_I-iyEd9YdgOfA5UoUuLixWfI6FzK2lPYw20/s3264/20200811_134837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEBBpoRjGhzvayui6tqnqq6-gupLIP27bx2RPNj9dSe8FhnCyFm5x_jWvUfEXH3KbIpIy6qPSWsJnelpNhZS0SUN07ZGuEVtDacr1dtt_I-iyEd9YdgOfA5UoUuLixWfI6FzK2lPYw20/s320/20200811_134837.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>It's not 6.20pm and I have left him to make tea, because apparently he "has a plan", and I literally WADED through bin bags and sacks of old books and socks and other nonsense to come back up to my new happy place.</p><p>EVERYTHING needs decorated.</p><p>There's some really sad washing on the line outside which has been there for days because of endless rain and my inability to deal with it.</p><p>There's about ten bin bags in the driveway and general waste collection isn't until next week.</p><p>Yes, the boys are sharing a room, but Tom's bed is going to have to come apart so the workmen can access the radiator (haven't told Dave yet - not sure he has realised).</p><p>We've hired an Air BnB situation down the road for the shittest 'holiday' ever where we have to decamp and sit with the three anti-social dogs for two days. We *might* get to come home overnight. Eek.</p><p>Work is mental just now - I am exhausted.</p><p>And we have a week.</p><p>One week.</p><p>To pull a de-cluttered and clean house out of our bums.</p><p>Pray for Genna.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sl6E1IY97pcf8Vsn_vhDQmDLsorng1yyqxzXn0wIj7yFQJSWT6Q_-rJOkmcQIjNtQn18Js2KnxniG4o05W_Xm36sOmrgWIa5Vysb-TsZunlt966mh4jrd2BzCqE7afMJiN0ZndCIIJA/s3264/20200812_105856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sl6E1IY97pcf8Vsn_vhDQmDLsorng1yyqxzXn0wIj7yFQJSWT6Q_-rJOkmcQIjNtQn18Js2KnxniG4o05W_Xm36sOmrgWIa5Vysb-TsZunlt966mh4jrd2BzCqE7afMJiN0ZndCIIJA/s320/20200812_105856.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-39275827146381874432021-03-01T12:58:00.001-08:002021-03-01T12:58:15.707-08:00Bairns and Blethers - A Good Old Catch Up<p> Well, world, what in the heck happened?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs241BXhH738LZqFrJ4CRAFuhVXgwv73oGkEJUy1YSiTocwZrf0Fgu1YQgkGLquZKB0-Ntq_b4bIGR6CrY9Tuq7ihGVNQo4NGsaHIMYHp_v87E_Tk6MDK7cub5z6jZElMs0uRpu2POkl0/s3264/IMG_20200716_095920722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs241BXhH738LZqFrJ4CRAFuhVXgwv73oGkEJUy1YSiTocwZrf0Fgu1YQgkGLquZKB0-Ntq_b4bIGR6CrY9Tuq7ihGVNQo4NGsaHIMYHp_v87E_Tk6MDK7cub5z6jZElMs0uRpu2POkl0/s320/IMG_20200716_095920722.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>One day I catch myself saying to Dave: "I wish something would happen, you know? Something that just makes the world stop for a bit. I'm so done with the relentless-ness of it all and just want it all to stop"</p><p><br /></p><p>And the next - it did.</p><p><br /></p><p>Sometimes I do feel like I am connected to this wee old planet in a bit of a spiritual way (ooky spooky!) and well, most times I do really just feel like a bit of a spaceman floating around waiting for something to happen or tell me where to go.</p><p><br /></p><p>And sometimes I feel absolutely driven, like I am desperately feeling like I need to fulfil my purpose RIGHT NOW, which is kind of how I am feeling just now.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT09JeVzJ_qfm_t-MG22UahZY_VI7CTOG23twT3jIIydkuhpuWe8S3P3u-PWN6oaAzo9LZ9juViHLYbk4ss3BEn-uokAiy2vHj-Exq6iKtVOBbQqPbUkBB1ippWICMmlB5swghxYJWPU8/s3264/IMG_20200717_235711916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT09JeVzJ_qfm_t-MG22UahZY_VI7CTOG23twT3jIIydkuhpuWe8S3P3u-PWN6oaAzo9LZ9juViHLYbk4ss3BEn-uokAiy2vHj-Exq6iKtVOBbQqPbUkBB1ippWICMmlB5swghxYJWPU8/s320/IMG_20200717_235711916.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>Covid has been a bit of a crazy ride, and as we come up to the wierdest anniversary of anything ever - like, ever - I feel a bit like I have ridden the greatest rollercoaster in my whole life and now I have to get off and go home back to the boring mundane.</p><p><br /></p><p>I'm not ashamed to say, I have quite enjoyed being locked down. I mean, okay, it has been a bit shit for the kids; my oldest basically got chucked out of p7 and into high school with the shittest goodbye ever, my youngest has had to start school in pandemic conditions and I think I might have gained about 2 stone because I have comfort eaten the fuck out of it, but otherwise, it's been fine, really.</p><p>Middle boy has been better than he has ever been and has come on so much- any of the regular societal pressures he has felt over the years has completely gone and school is now much more manageable for him. The weight of all of that being taken off has changed our family considerably. The crazy merry-go-round has actually stopped, which is nothing short of miraculous. It may even have given us some actual formative real chance of getting somewhere with this.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjUN6Ac8i4LC5ut6OpDV8f1LQZJ-hCrXmT_esHAvrnRnEB5Td7BJnFStfHMeBIJ4seDqEYTxXgFR-9F1lygcYIjPplIkJukZLUJtKtYPSkSYWZt2ZAFl1ulF5ADCcrn29ro6HuxRO-AU/s3264/IMG_20200621_142610085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjUN6Ac8i4LC5ut6OpDV8f1LQZJ-hCrXmT_esHAvrnRnEB5Td7BJnFStfHMeBIJ4seDqEYTxXgFR-9F1lygcYIjPplIkJukZLUJtKtYPSkSYWZt2ZAFl1ulF5ADCcrn29ro6HuxRO-AU/s320/IMG_20200621_142610085.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>Myself and Dave are keyworkers in the third sector and our jobs have catapulted our careers further in a shorter space of time than any of us could have imagined. It is absolutely mind-blowing compared to last year where we are now, and for that I am eternally grateful. It feels like a mad dream.</p><p>By all accounts, I certainly don't ever want to downplay anything that has happened in the world or the horrible, awful, terrible hardships anyone has been through in the last year; not at all. Working in the third sector (and in things like emergency provision for basic needs like food and clothing), I know life is so tough on so many and in so many horrible conditions all over the world.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBiYqGU4S8eGWnKPv13hiL9rAmCp2wNbEUAzmmaQ8h7-YVcGaiOMXPHbk9Dlm02Ut73lbTBFQc5_gHn_LuSscumK9pEzlT8TFpjx7e7Eta__Z0X1dAPG8xfp5d3YyL5RVh21G7AazYtU/s3264/IMG_20200701_232936865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBiYqGU4S8eGWnKPv13hiL9rAmCp2wNbEUAzmmaQ8h7-YVcGaiOMXPHbk9Dlm02Ut73lbTBFQc5_gHn_LuSscumK9pEzlT8TFpjx7e7Eta__Z0X1dAPG8xfp5d3YyL5RVh21G7AazYtU/s320/IMG_20200701_232936865.jpg" /></a></div><p>But personally, for me, for us, for our wee family, in this wee dilapidated cottage which is going to suck our souls dry (or leave us dying of frostbite or in an electrical fire) for once...for once....FOR ONCE....the world isn't shitting right on our laps for a change.</p><p>And it feels good.</p><p>It feels good to be able to put food on the table without panicking. We are travelling a lot less, so less wear on the cars, which meant come MOT time, we weren't completely destroyed. We are paying a lot less for fuel, so aren't constantly running on empty. We have been able to address some real pressing issues in the house like basic furniture needs, like buying the kids a bed and bedding. We have been able to buy gifts at Christmas without sheer panic.</p><p>I keep waiting for the bolt to shut across the door, when whatever cosmic being has let us free from our usual crock of shit life realises that we got out, but it hasn't happened just yet.</p><p><br /></p><p>While the rest of the world is desperate to get back to 'normal', here's me in a corner saying, "please, not quite yet. There's still so much to do".</p><p><br /></p><p>I mean, I've written it down now, so I have totally jinxed it, but it has been so nice to just have this break.</p><p><br /></p><p>And if all I end up with is this little memoir to look back on, well, I'm glad it happened and now I know it can happen - so watch out world, here I come.</p>Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-74245848145096307792019-08-11T05:23:00.000-07:002019-08-11T05:26:41.729-07:00Haven Cala Gran Holiday Summer 2019 (part one)We had a total blast this summer in my favourite place.<br />
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For the second time since Owen was born, we went on a family holiday and back to the wee corner of the world that feels like home - Blackpool.<br />
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Well, technically, Fleetwood, but hey, we were there for the main attraction.<br />
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It took me a full on year to pay for our holiday and save for the spending money - last year we went with barely any money and it was a very tight squeeze!<br />
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This year I was determined that we would be able to eat out, to spend money on souvenirs and do some of the things that we wanted to do the year before.<br />
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Then I quit my job about 3 weeks before we went due to stress and faced the prospect of no wage when we came home from our holiday - great timing, as per.<br />
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For a while, it looked like we might need to call time on the idea of going away, but we had looked forward to it for so long...and paid for it....so off we went.<br />
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Man, Blackpool is expensive.<br />
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We stayed in a caravan at Cala Gran holiday park, which is home to an arcade (hours of children pouring my hard-saved money into machines every night), an entertainment venue (where you dream of sitting on your bum with a glass of wine, watching terrible, but funny holiday shows but instead the children just want to pour money into said machines in the adjacent arcade) and a pub (where you dream of sitting on your bum having a cheeky half pint in peace, but horrible children grudgingly half eat some of the most expensive pub food ever in between trying to head out to the adjacent arcade with my hard-saved pennies which are burning a hole in their pockets, or running excitedly to the just-out-of-sight park where the four year old keeps getting stuck on the climber).<br />
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There is also a small swimming pool (adjacent to the pub, so mum can watch dad playing with the cherubs in the pool while having a cup of tea - ha ha, win!) and an outdoor water park thingy (where you can watch your kids run around while shouting 'be careful' and 'don't do that' at random intervals instead of relaxing.<br />
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I don't know if I'm just more cynical as I have gotten older or if arcades are actually more geared to ripping all of your cash out of you for very little fun or return. Well, that and inflation, I suppose. It just irked me (and all of the other parents I saw standing in the queue for the prize shop at the end of the week to redeem their tickets) when what must have been about £100 equated to three keyrings, a Hulk Hogan bandana and a set of stickers.<br />
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"But the kids had fun"<br />
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Yes. Yes they did.<br />
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We all had a blast on holiday - but it is knackering. But noticeably easier than the previous year. The older they get, the less tightly wound they appear to be at the beginning.<br />
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Last year was crazy - just absolutely constant. With Ethan, we always have to be 'doing' something and he never seems to be happy with what we are doing - just looking ahead to the next 'thing' which is kind of exhausting and relentless. Especially in a holiday situation!<br />
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He was definitely more chilled this year - not massively - but it was certainly a bit more pleasant.<br />
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The first evening was spent paying grace to the gods of Arcadia by lining their metal trays with offerings of coins from children's pockets (we won about 400 tickets at the 2p machines).<br />
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We spent so much money on our tea that I felt obliged to put in a complaint online ( £54!!) and I nearly felt like taking a swing to Lidl to just buy food to survive the week. There's something really weird about living on barely nothing week to week for the last 5 years and then suddenly allowing yourself to splurge - you almost just can't do it. It doesn't feel pleasant!<br />
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We spent the first day in Cleveleys, mainly because I had to cash a cheque at the bank, taking a stroll, marvelling at the 1990's vibe and fully comprehending that this is where every older person ever is holidaying. It's a bit like Blackpool back in the day where shops still sell some random as heck items outside in baskets marked "£1 per item" and you can pick up anything from a walking stick to a vibrator.<br />
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It was actually quite comforting to take in sights such as market stalls selling some pretty questionable clothing in xxxl sizes, wigs and underwear, all of which the kids enjoyed having a giggle at while we shout-whispered "PUT.THAT.DOWN" with crazy eyes while trying not to laugh.<br />
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We lunched at a very reasonably priced cafe which was very busy and had a Monet theme, which gave it an air of 1980's Granny's Glasgow house chic (dusky pink, Monet pics in gold frames with gold lamps) , which again was quite comforting and hearty.<br />
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I had a very nice 'barm cake' which Dave had a lengthy argument with me about ordering due to the fact he said he would "just be asking for a cheese roll" and I had words with him about the fact a roll and a barm are two different things, which after a quick Google, he realised they were NOT!<br />
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HA HA, Dave!<br />
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(If you have any interest in this - a barm cake is made with excess foam from beer making! A roll is not!)<br />
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It may have been a more heated argument than it needed to be...aherm...<br />
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Thankfully we had the comedy break of watching what was a woman armed with a full-on water gun standing in the middle of the road outside, shooting seagulls who were swooping down on those who had chosen to eat at the pavement cafe. So that was funny.<br />
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A quick walk along the water front (very windy) where we talked to dogs (not people though) and the boys (including Dave) obviously decided that every bench, concrete fixture and pole was some kind of elaborate parkour trail, so it was more me walking like I was the head of a troupe of crazy, not-very-coordinated, loud, monkeys that I didn't know were following me.<br />
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Honestly, I wonder what we all look like sometimes.<br />
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"But the kids had fun"<br />
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Yes. They did. And I hear you. But honestly, sometimes I wish it was just the kids and not also the fourth, large man-child joining in and that we could walk together nicely while the kids play. That would feel a little tiny bit less like I was in charge of some kind of uncontrollable mass sometimes.<br />
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When I finally herded them all back together, there was thankfully (!) a small arcade across the road (yay!) and of course, son number one needed the toilet, so in we traipsed, spending more than we had intended on yet more tickets (which we later discovered we could feed into the ticket counting machine back at the park, so I felt like I was beating the system just a little bit...ha ha, fuck you, Haven arcade!)<br />
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Back to the car and then back to the caravan, where we decided on the camp Papa John's for tea this time (slightly cheaper, kind of) and the back to having the money hoovered out of our pockets by small children who fed it all into the shiny machines. While I of course wished that I was sitting in the entertainment bit having a glass of wine and watching the kids join in the horrible entertainment instead...but no....<br />
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"But the kids had fun"<br />
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They did! And so did I, really...<br />
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Part 2 to follow...<br />
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<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-45250001038572657852019-08-10T14:49:00.000-07:002019-08-10T15:23:29.553-07:00The Struggle Is RealI'm not having the best week.<br />
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Dave has finally come off on holiday from work for the last week of the holidays, and as always, I have limped across the finish line waiting for him.<br />
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I barely held it together the previous week, when I unequivocally stated that I was DONE with being the full-time, main carer for our three darling children.<br />
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What is wrong with me?<br />
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That's the question I asked myself for a good couple of weeks: What is wrong with me?<br />
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Why am I unable to get through lengthy periods of time caring for three children on my own, when so many other women also have to do it and without half as much complaint as I seem to constantly give?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAb53nG6581OKEX9lf_PfIMHYjORoi-qDBcn8-j82B_d77jaD8DBseREtxr92wg_f6IdpxPzVk93ZvOAhNE_5QUJPM9Fjnk7_6j4nNnyaJ8J2WfZLwQ5e3u-zlIbIC6UBptPN1ExSWslk/s1600/IMG_20190725_121327370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAb53nG6581OKEX9lf_PfIMHYjORoi-qDBcn8-j82B_d77jaD8DBseREtxr92wg_f6IdpxPzVk93ZvOAhNE_5QUJPM9Fjnk7_6j4nNnyaJ8J2WfZLwQ5e3u-zlIbIC6UBptPN1ExSWslk/s320/IMG_20190725_121327370.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Last week, I decided I needed to vent, so I posted a bit of a diatribe on a parenting forum, which went a bit like this:<br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">"Ladies, we are week 5 into the summer holidays and I have been off work for 10 weeks now (quit a really awful, stressful, horrible job and a million times better now, and waiting for new job to start in 2 weeks). My teeth feel like they are peeling with the domestic boredom. I have three kids, aged 10, 8 and 4 and they are lovely kids, they really are, but quite honestly, I could punt them out of the window. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The youngest is full on Oedipal, spending the majority of his time</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> sqwauking "mum, mum, mum, mummaaaaaaaaaaay" a bajiliion times a day, just for no real reason. I mean, he doesn't want anything...just my fucking soul.<br />The middle one is in the spectrum and needs to know exactly what we are doing every single moment of every single day, which means there is absolutely no chance of standing down or having a casual 5 minutes, like, ever. He needs routine and I stupidly keep saying things like 'maybe later', instead of just giving him a specific time and date for stuff. He is exhausting. The oldest has decided his preteen side is going to come out this summer and he just spends his time back-chatting or wrapped like a slug in all my nice blankets in his smelly room watching YouTube constantly.<br />Plus, the eating!!! All they do is consume!!! What have I made?!<br />I fear our household is the biggest contributor to landfill in the world (sorry everyone else), despite my efforts.<br />I have about ten tons of washing I constantly need to do, they keep making me go to parks where they ruin their shoes by scuffing them on the roundabout, or in the saner moments when we don't have to 'do something' (for they must at ALL times be 'entertained' <span class="_5mfr" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0px 1px;"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/td7/1/16/1f928.png"); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: contain; color: transparent; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; height: 16px; text-shadow: none; vertical-align: text-bottom; width: 16px;">🤨</span></span>, they've managed to haul all of my soft furnishings and all the tiny little toys outside to play 'shops' (read: make a big bastarding mess), usually just before the wee showers we've been randomly having, so everything gets soaked. Raging.<br />I've had precisely 10 hours of childcare over the last ten weeks to fulfil the purpose of going to job interviews and yesterday I got to go to a funeral (yay! <span class="_5mfr" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0px 1px;"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/t22/1/16/1f61e.png"); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: contain; color: transparent; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; height: 16px; text-shadow: none; vertical-align: text-bottom; width: 16px;">😞</span></span>)<br />I left my job because I was burnt out, now I just feel burnt out in a different way. I miss socialising with adults, or just having a normal conversation that isn't preceded or followed up with demands, or just silence (these boys are so loud and they just constantly talllllllkkkkk!) Christ, I'd love to finish a stream of thought, let alone a cup of tea.<br />My house is a shit tip, I have eaten so much shite (no time to make nice things for me) and I'm knackered. School holidays are far too long. And I know some folk really embrace the time and enjoy their kids company because 'life is so short' and 'they are only little once' and yes, I feel guilty for moaning, because obviously I'm lucky to have them etc etc but HOLY FUCK I need a break!"</span></i><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I fully expected to be taken apart for my comment but I didn't really care. I was at the end of my tether.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I did not expect what are some of the nicest and supportive comments I have ever had from total strangers. Hundreds of women replied in solidarity. I've never felt more seen.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I have honestly had the most shittiest few years - between a crazy house that is falling apart, the worst financial issues I've ever faced, couple that with not on, mot two or three, but 4 cars which have all had some pretty hefty problems or being scrapped completely(we need our cars where we live for work and school etc), some pretty crazy employment, redundancy, unemployment situations, health stuff and the general craziness that goes with raising a family around all of this...I wouldn't say that we haven't done too bad, considering.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX_8C8GfvzPAytPYIiSJLIW5oiMhV3SRkVLffht6VEWlzKY2j6oVB3-KRa6dyZHJw-1BksppvFr8JZPvkvg0sBZ-Y87xKg1B7oW4O8EAB4J_RQ_auycCyr3AXfBVhN5kTls5YryjxdrM/s1600/IMG_20190621_083023421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX_8C8GfvzPAytPYIiSJLIW5oiMhV3SRkVLffht6VEWlzKY2j6oVB3-KRa6dyZHJw-1BksppvFr8JZPvkvg0sBZ-Y87xKg1B7oW4O8EAB4J_RQ_auycCyr3AXfBVhN5kTls5YryjxdrM/s320/IMG_20190621_083023421.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">During this time we have had some really great help from some really amazing people - I've been in absolute tears sometimes with the lengths that some folk have gone to to help us out, and we will always remember everything, every little detail, because sometimes quite honestly, it's all that has kept us going at times.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We have had our fair share of shite from folk too, which keeps it all at a balance, to be fair, but in the main, folk are generally nice and supportive.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Sometimes I have to remind myself that we have not had it easy, and that all things considered, we are doing okay.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It does feel like walking backwards through treacle in heels with handcuffs and a blindfold on sometimes - especially when we get handed three boisterous, loud and to be honest, quite demanding children for weeks at a time.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">This summer, I haven't had a payday for two months - that's bound to add pressure onto a situation, especially when we have to factor school uniforms, the big p7 school trip payment by the end of August, feeding the buggers for six weeks plus activities.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Man, life is easier by miles when you have some kind of liquid cash to put into activities.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fwjbQFO7Dks9GU-KQZ2IAkjmz7bvPYYjX6Doa62VXplAXnPNyTmaVi5cMMLnNbYzYl7rffuZmxPNSj9K8AhmDabqmQIrYDU8zS5x1RTPnoKPXc_3v2UhJZDP2NX3c21IWBHgGbMt-g0/s1600/IMG_20190704_171953740_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fwjbQFO7Dks9GU-KQZ2IAkjmz7bvPYYjX6Doa62VXplAXnPNyTmaVi5cMMLnNbYzYl7rffuZmxPNSj9K8AhmDabqmQIrYDU8zS5x1RTPnoKPXc_3v2UhJZDP2NX3c21IWBHgGbMt-g0/s320/IMG_20190704_171953740_HDR.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And everything costs money - I mean, everything.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I'm so tired of moaning about it, but I am always so fucking stressed about bloody money - the kids are like wee money hoovers. Sometimes I feel like we are finally getting on top of something and can relax a bit and BOOM - it's like they can sense it and they grow, or need shoes or suddenly need money for something else.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And to try and take the edge off, I give them pocket money every week. Burning a hole in their pockets - they go mad with the power. £3 per week is tons to a kid, and actually a bit of an annoying, sickening feeling every Friday, trying to remember to pay them and trying to remember it's good for them to have it and it's good for them to learn budgeting and stuff - but honestly, sometimes it's my last £3 every week and it kills me to hand it over to be spent on rubbish.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Something popped up on my Facebook feed today that reminded me that this time, 5 years ago, someone had our kids overnight!</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Can you imagine!</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Which makes that the last time we spend a night together alone away from the kids.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And in that post, I mention how the last time before that had been 3 years previous.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">That means we have had 2 nights away from our children in EIGHT FUCKING YEARS.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">No wonder I am feeling a wee bit fraught.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I love my children, with every bone in my body I love them. </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">But, man, I am tired. And I am so in need of a break.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The last time Dave and I had more than 2 hours alone together was back in March.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">March 22nd, to be exact.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And I hate to say it, but I am jealous.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Jealous of the mums that go away on holidays with pals abroad for a couple of nights, jealous of the couples who get to go away for a night at the weekend in a different city to recharge, jealous of the families who take children away to caravans to spend quality time with grandparents or stay with them for a week, jealous of the sleepovers at aunties and uncles houses, at the people who go away in large groups of pals, mish-mashing their kids together for unforgettable trips where they take the weight off each other just by being there. I'm jealous of the people who have groups of pals they meet up with frequently for day trips, and the gal pals who meet up for a reunion, of the siblings who old each other kids for each other while they go and conquer whatever it is they need to do.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It's so bloody hard to be one of two whole people in the whole world who take responsibility for three growing kids on very fucking little for so much time in one go. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> It's knackering and hard and honeslty, as much fun as it can be , and as tight as we are as a family, and as lucky as we are to be all together and safe and warm (because there is always that one person who has to 'play devils advocate' or 'see the positives'), I honestly do benefit from stepping away for a bit and gaining perspective and being apart from the kids.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">As does everyone!</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The more women who commented on that post that day, the more I realised - I am not alone. My situation is not 'usual'. My husband couldn't see it until I showed him the post and the comments from other women in similar situations.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We all need a support network - whatever form that takes. We all need someone to hold a hand, or wipe a bum, or to simply batten down the hatches with when things get rough.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I sincerely wish that the women on my computer that day lived beside me.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Thank fuck for the internet or I might have not survived the last week.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">I am normal. IT's okay to be struggling in my own situation. It's okay to be tired. It's totally okay to need people. It's fine to need a break from your kids (and healthier for everyone involved). It's cool to need to vent. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Everyone - please check on your friends and each other; near and far. It's a bloody long summer, and nobody should ever feel at breaking point when we are all in this together.</span></span><br />
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<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-89318287037030874352019-08-04T08:42:00.001-07:002019-08-04T08:42:21.896-07:00JadedI think I have become slightly jaded and lost my way a bit.<div>
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I had to quit my job. Not because I couldn't handle it, not because I was bad at it, but simply because the people were extremely awful to me, because I was working way way over and above for little to no recompense and because there were things going on which I wasn't prepared to compromise my own professional and moral integrity for.</div>
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It's been a rough ride.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, the week I decided I was leaving my job. Check out the eyebags. Anyone who says mental health is invisible is a liar!</td></tr>
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It took a lot for me to walk away. </div>
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First came the huge guilt - would everything be okay if I left, would things fall by the wayside? </div>
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Then the stress, the anxiety and the fear - what if I bump into people from there, what if people think it's all my fault, what will people think of me?</div>
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I spent a solid month waiting for my p45 - in the meantime there was absolutely no acknowledgement of the sick line I had handed in, no messages of concern from any ex-colleagues, no notice that my resignation had even been received; just radio silence. It was a long month.</div>
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With a husband working in the same sector and around the same kind of people, I lived every day in fear of what he would learn - would someone let slip that I had ruined a perfectly good and well-working project before I got my hands on it, or would people pay their best lip-service to him because I was his wife?</div>
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Would everyone be whispering about how badly I had handled everything and how poorly I had performed? Was I just a weak and poor performer, unqualified and unable to cut it?</div>
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I spent the month feeling sick. I couldn't shop in places I had shopped for the project (still can't!), taking myself 6 miles out of the way every time I needed any shopping. I nearly spewed on my dashboard one day when I drove past someone who I used to work with. I had vicious dreams about being trapped in my old building while people hunted me down. I had palpatations in the middle of the night thinking about how and if it might all end. I had to get rid of certain clothes, paperwork, block people from my social media, filter out my emails...</div>
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Of course, news filtered through from various sources; so and so had done whatever, things had or hadn't happened, things weren't going so well, there was a lot of scrabbling around etc etc. I felt worse.</div>
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The people I worked with throughout the sector knew I'd been under a lot of pressure - it was a lucky escape. I was lucky to get out. It definitely wasn't me - they were awful people and didn't deserve me. I had done a lot of good and now that was being wasted. What a shame - how awful it had happened to me. Life went on.</div>
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Meanwhile, I could barely breathe.</div>
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I tried to get a new job - I had interviewed for a nursery back when I really should have left. The manager was really nice and offered me a full time job there. I went there for 3 days. It was awful. I hated it. Nobody acknowledged my existence, let alone spoke to me and the children, though absolutely gorgeous and cuddly, just didn't want to be there. I was in the under 2's room, so they couldn't communicate verbally. Some were ill and just needing to be at home with mum. I found that parents dumping small kids for 10 hours a day in a mediocre setting upsetting, so I left as quickly as I had started. Not for me.</div>
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I had no income.</div>
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A friend very kindly lent me money I have no idea how I am going to pay back and I breathed a little deeper, knowing I could take my time and find something I wanted to do.</div>
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I put my all into applying for all the jobs I didn't want.</div>
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I got one. It's really not me. </div>
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I feel like one by one all of my passions have been extinguished and I've been left with an empty and soulless life with little purpose.</div>
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And boy, do I need purpose.</div>
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Even writing at the moment doesn't feel right. </div>
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I feel stunted - stunted by my gender, by my level in life, by my position and by my status.</div>
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I should have went to University to do the Forensic Science degree at 18, if not I should have went to the RSAMD audition, if not I should have went to the Primary Teaching interview, we should have delayed having kids, we should never have left that house we were in, I should have finished the post-grad, I should never have left the library...</div>
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Should of, should have never, should be....</div>
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What the heck have I done?</div>
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I keep saying "what's for you won't go by you", and I am trying to keep the faith that this is true, but honestly, with things the way they are at the moment...what if life is truing to tell me that this is all I deserve? A falling apart house with no income, a mediocre wage when it comes and a life without anything to pour my passions into?</div>
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And if so, what the heck have I done to deserve this?</div>
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I've got so much to give, so much love to spread, so much passion to pour into the right thing. </div>
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Could I just please get a chance to do this without being shafted all the time?</div>
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Please?</div>
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Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-44951367072402656242019-04-23T15:28:00.000-07:002019-04-23T15:31:20.369-07:00Banana PancakesMy goodness, it has been a while since I have been here. Terrible excuse, but I have been really busy, honest!!!<br />
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I am Project Co-ordinator at the moment for The Under 12's Project: you can check out the awesome work we all do here: <a href="https://www.rainbowhousedundee.org.uk/">https://www.rainbowhousedundee.org.uk</a><br />
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I started a Food Larder and Freecycle there, which has taken off ENORMOUSLY in the last few months and the whole project has been 18 months of pure challenge coupled with some of the most sickening and mind-numbing stress of my life!<br />
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Pair this with the volunteering I have been doing with local charity <a href="https://www.togsfortotsdundee.org/">https://www.togsfortotsdundee.org</a> doing their social media, dropping in to do bits and bobs when I can and trying to formulate endless plans, fundraising etc....<br />
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...plus 3 kids....3 dogs (whoops, how ON EARTH did that happen?!)<br />
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Yup...three hooligans and three kids too - how DO I fit it all in?</div>
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Honestly? I have no idea.</div>
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I am shattered.</div>
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Life is so very extremely busy at the moment. I miss the library - it seems a lifetime away, yet at the same time it feels like I could just step right back in (and man, I really want to A LOT of the time. WHat I wouldn't give for some peace at the desk sometimes, the ability to take out bags full of books that I had time to read....what was I thinking giving that up?!?)</div>
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At the moment I have kicked my own ass for the last 18 months doing this crazy crazy job which demands a lot from me and now this is me trying to claw my way back into a life I am comfortable living...</div>
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...well...</div>
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...not too comfortable.</div>
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That would be boring, eh?</div>
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-24123477218555345982018-07-28T15:10:00.000-07:002018-07-28T15:10:57.660-07:00The Incredibles 2 - a trip with my boysNow that the older boys are a bit less feral, it's actually pretty enjoyable to be out and about with them.<br />
All the little things that used to completely stress me out when we went places (escalators, negotiating car parks, toileting) are all a thing of the past, and I have to say - it feels so chilled to go out with my older sons now.<br />
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I feel like I have earned this.<br />
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I've been working pretty hard over the summer - which has given me massive mum-guilt. The kids really haven't had the best of me this summer at all - even on holiday I still had to deal with work - so when we catch a few hours together, I try my best to make them as fun as possible.<br />
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Despite having our alone time yesterday and having filled my work hours for the week, I still had work to do and things to deal with, and the boys were yet again dragged along for the ride. It was a hot hot hot day, and there was **SHOCK** NO INTERNET!!<br />
(Which was the issue I had to deal with at work)<br />
So while I spent a few hours dealing with being on hold to BT and sorting out various other issues which I always liken to fighting zombies...there's lots of them, they are relentless, and the don't care if you are ready for them or not; the boys were not up for quietly sitting. There was no internet, therefore there was NOTHING TO DO.<br />
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They were annoying. I wasn't listening. We stayed way longer than I had told them we would. I had been actively ignoring them for 6 and a half hours to prioritise work.<br />
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It didn't end well. There might have been shouting from all of us.<br />
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I stopped.<br />
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We went out for lunch. We got pizza together and I began to relax. The pizza place is beside the cinema, and one thing led to another and....<br />
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Last night we went to the cinema together for the first time since I started my new job, which is MONTHS ago now.<br />
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We went to see The Incredibles 2.<br />
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The irony is not lost on me that this brilliantly done and seamless sequel to The Incredibles features Elastigirl, or 'Mrs Incredible' taking the lead as the breadwinner for her family. She has to give up family life to prove herself and become the poster-girl for superheroes.<br />
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Ethan exclaimed at the amount of adults in the audience: 'Where are the kids? Why are they coming on their own?!'<br />
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He was right; there were a lot of couples in the audience - notably women. With plenty of references to parenting, life as a working mum, life as a stay at home parent, the dynamic between couples when one is out at work while the other has to take a back seat, I think this film has really struck a chord with many people in similar situations.<br />
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Life as a working parent is difficult - and especially for women, who often face the dichotomy between being the home-maker and nurturer, while trying to be successful in the workplace.<br />
It was very refreshing too to see Mr. Incredible struggle, but also generally succeed in giving up his career to support his wife. Pixar really didn't adhere to the stereotype of the 'useless Dad' which was lovely to see. Instead, we see Robert Parr struggle and then work out what to do - finding his own feet and his own way of doing things for the kids.<br />
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It opened the door to speaking to the boys in the car on the way home about all the issues raised, which made for some interesting discussions. It was kind of amazing to me, that despite feeling guilty and worried about having ruined the boys' summer, it seems they are very understanding of why mum has to work so hard. Tom even surprised me by telling me that he was always amazed by how much I managed to do and how hard it is for me at home and at work.<br />
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I guess it was nice to realise that even though a lot of the time I do feel invisible, I'm not. The boys still see me and they do see what I do - even if sometimes it feels as though they are completely oblivious.<br />
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It was also nice to have that time to realise that I need to work less and do more with my funny gorgeous, intelligent, and observant boys.<br />
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I am not Mrs. Incredible and yes, I do feel like Elastigirl - constantly over-stretching myself.<br />
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The small film at the start of the movie was even more poignant and actually had me in tears.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NaYpnW7kh6Lsy7iL16UFFeEQEvTQ_WTQgA6XQ9CiZCrvL1NcEYtoyp_7wwBpZ9FNG4Hho3LglQUE99MyEVhjsLhLc7PyNQb2X2K7UtqtOYUboagjqA5_cp18qQUviUxLm2cA-6udmFA/s1600/maxresdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NaYpnW7kh6Lsy7iL16UFFeEQEvTQ_WTQgA6XQ9CiZCrvL1NcEYtoyp_7wwBpZ9FNG4Hho3LglQUE99MyEVhjsLhLc7PyNQb2X2K7UtqtOYUboagjqA5_cp18qQUviUxLm2cA-6udmFA/s640/maxresdefault.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bao</td></tr>
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Bao is a mini Pixar film and focuses on mother-son relationships. Sitting with my two boys watching a story about a mother who has grown older, raised her son and 'lost' him to teenage life, followed by the love of his life was emotional and difficult. I'll not go into what actually happened so I don't spoil it for anyone, but if you are a mama raising sons, get out the tissues.<br />
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Another conversation-starter with my boys about how life is for women, and especially those with sons. Their reactions?<br />
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Were beautiful.<br />
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They get it.<br />
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They understand. Which makes me feel like I am doing something right.<br />
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This was an important and much-needed check-in. And I will be doing it more often. Too much work, not enough boy-time.<br />
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<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-1080803903084815442018-05-18T02:45:00.000-07:002018-05-18T02:45:00.584-07:00Passions and Indifference.It's Friday.<br />
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It's middle May and I am plaughing through my life one screen at a time.<br />
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The last 3 years have been an incessant head-noise.<br />
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My ears have been so full of the hum of busy days, that I have barely had time to assess what's happening.<br />
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Life is nothing, if not always full of surprises.<br />
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Three years ago, I started working at a charity. What started as a small piece of input turned into something amazing - something I really loved.<br />
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Through working up a sweat two nights, three nights, sometimes five nights a week after work, after long days at home with sick kids, after spending days fretting about finances, after arguments with the husband, after workplace bullshit, I found friendship, love and even confidence.<br />
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What began as something which was only supposed to be a dip-in-and-out, a break from daily grind, a chance to work of some of my excess frustrations with other aspects of my life turned into a passion and a duty which I was proud to carry.<br />
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I gave up my time, my heart and my soul.<br />
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And as always, when I enter so thoroughly into some kind of devilish contract - the one that operates loosely and without any tenure. One that my heart takes control of way over my head...<br />
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My passion bit me on the bum.<br />
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Things changed and I found myself naturally pushed out as things progressed. Suddenly, I'm in that all-too-familiar situation of being left out in the cold.<br />
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I feel like I've had a really horrible break up - or my best friend has ghosted me.<br />
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Suddenly, I can't share the posts from the charity looking for help.<br />
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It's ridiculous.<br />
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I feel lost.<br />
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I've had to pretend to myself it doesn't exist without me - which I am hating, because it does and I so really want to be a part of it.<br />
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It's sink or swim time for my passions.<br />
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Every time one gets destroyed I feel a little harder, a little colder.<br />
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Life is full of disappointment. Why do I take them so personally?<br />
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I think it's because I constantly do the hokey cokey - I always put my whole self in.<br />
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I gave up the one job I loved the most in the whole wide world for the one I have now. And it's odd. I could have talked all day about the merits of the library, I could have made even the most dispassionate person interested in books, I loved nothing more than inspiring young readers and organising the library.<br />
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Passion, passion, passion. Heart-bursting-with-joy passion.<br />
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And now?<br />
<br />
I've become someone I don't recognise. I'm not thrilled, I'm pro-active and hard-headed. I'm enjoying the challenge. I am being a manager.<br />
<br />
I'm working harder and more efficiently. I'm tougher. <br />
<br />
Is this who I am now?<br />
<br />
Like being disappointed by someone constantly over time, I have become the opposite of love - I have become indifferent.<br />
<br />
And it's such a dull and empty feeling.<br />
<br />
Protective, maybe?<br />
<br />
I'm so fed up of being hurt that I've become indifferent.<br />
<br />
If I cared, I would have to face up to the fact that there are people out there who would kill my passion without a thought and leave me heartbroken. Which is a rough thing to do to someone.<br />
<br />
God - do I ever do that to anyone?<br />
<br />
I hope not.<br />
<br />
I seem to be the common denominator: a silly wee lassie with her heart on her sleeve.<br />
<br />
As for this job, I suppose I am wary. So wary of my passions. My ability to be hurt.<br />
<br />
I can track it back to so many things.<br />
<br />
Have I ever fit in? Will I ever have a 'safe' group?<br />
<br />
I thought I'd found it.<br />
<br />
And again, here I am - on the outside, looking in.Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-76968919147398164592018-03-25T12:28:00.000-07:002018-03-25T12:28:17.958-07:00The Post-Holiday DreadI've been on annual leave for a week and I don't want to go back to work.<br />
<br />
Work is stress. Work is trying to figure out the impossible with both hands tied behind my back. Work is unfriendly. Work is crumbling and broken and needs so much more than little old me to fix it. Work is constant criticism, and juggling, and managing time I really don't have.<br />
<br />
Do I have to go back?<br />
<br />
I keep having mini-stress attacks; my heart starts rushing, I get the sicky feeling in the pit of my stomach and I can feel my adrenaline starting to course through my veins in fight-or-flight; a response which is unwarranted (as I keep having to try to tell my brain, which seems to want to do anything but be calm about all of this).<br />
<br />
I'm worried about so much; taking myself off social media so that I wasn't tempted to look at anything work-relates mid-week has the downside that now, as manager of this service which is supposed to deliver STUFF in the next few weeks is making me feel very disconnected indeed.<br />
<br />
<br />
What am I going back to?<br />
<br />
What has or hasn't been done?<br />
<br />
Will I be surprised (pleasantly or otherwise)?<br />
<br />
We've had a lovely week. We took a much-needed trip to St. Andrews together to look at bookshops, eat Italian paninis and indulge ourselves with rich cake.<br />
On Tuesday we shopped for new flooring and started some DIY.<br />
Wednesdy was the day we built a kitchen unit - finding (unbelievably) a piece of worktop in the garage so perfect, that we didn't have to cut it.<br />
Thursday we wenyt shopping and had brunch at Wetherspoons, enjoying our child-free time.<br />
On Thursday I also had to sit and pay the wages, which took a few hours. <br />
Friday, I had plans with a friend. Calamity Jane at the cinema in Perth, followed by lunch and a spot of shops. <br />
On Saturday, the dread began....so close to Monday. My girlfriends had plans to go out, and I guiltily held back until committing myself to go about and hour before we were due out. I could quite happily have stayed at home - the thought of work starting made me feel sick and depressed.<br />
I made plans to come home - I didn't want to waste any of my last day making my way home from a night out.<br />
Today I woke up and it was sunny. Really sunny.<br />
<br />
I was a little hungover from the night's ablutions, but I was keen to not waste the day.<br />
<br />
Suggestions of going out - it's a sunny day, we should 'do something'.<br />
<br />
I stepped into the garden to take the dogs out...windy, cold...nope.<br />
<br />
I came back in - "we can go out, but somewhere inside please".<br />
<br />
So: Ice Skating.<br />
<br />
Hilarious. The boys loved it - all three. Tom was his usual uncoordinated self - he made Bambi look like a tightrope walker. He refused to hold onto the side and instead spent most of his time crashing into peaople, the floor and doing his best pratt falls, which meant he garnered huge sympathy from pretty much everyone, who then tried to help him, which was really nice. He bumped into loads of school friends and they were all great, giving him little hints and tips.<br />
<br />
Ethan gingerly stepped onto the ice and then slipping too much, he pulled himself back into the hole he came out of...hilariously, comedically. He soon got the hang of it though! He was proudly stumble-skating around and even remarked 'I never even cried once, mum!'<br />
<br />
Owen had a penguin, but struggling with the concept that the blades he could barely walk on on firm land would work for him on this new slippery terrain, he wrapped his legs around said penguin, and waited for it to move. Of course it didn't.<br />
<br />
He then proceeded to do 'snow angels' and holding onto the penguin, dragging his feet while waiting to be pushed. One woman had been round twice and asked if we were okay - offering to help us off the ice, as he just stopped point blank.<br />
<br />
Having had 3 c-sections, my core isn't what it was, and my balance was completely out of sorts - I intend to rectify this asap. I properly struggled to find my centre - it was quite disconcerting and debilitating for someone who was quite balanced before. I'm really keen to sort it out!<br />
<br />
The boys really want to do more, so I think we will take them to lessons every week.<br />
<br />
Which are pricey, and something we could never even begin to contemplate before.<br />
<br />
But now am earning a much better wage, so....<br />
<br />
Ah, shit.<br />
<br />
You see what I've done here?<br />
<br />
Back to work tomorrow.... :(<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-6954736053682126862018-03-22T07:57:00.003-07:002018-03-22T07:57:54.021-07:00Catching UpHey!<br />
<br />
It's been more than a while, so I suppose I'm just going to blether a wee bit.<br />
<br />
I left my job at the library.<br />
<br />
I am devastated!<br />
<br />
I have however embarked on a new adventure and am now working as a Project Co-Ordinator for a community project in Dundee. It's a bit scary - people say things like, "ask the boss" and " my manager" while referring to me and I am now accountable for things like paying the wages on time and making sure that there's funding available - as well as everything in between.<br />
<br />
It's been a bit of a chaotic and rough ride so far - it's a small project and there's been a lot to do - and will be for the forseeable.<br />
<br />
Someone told me that I should keep a list of successes.<br />
<br />
So, for posterity, I am reminding myself that I can be successful sometimes.<br />
<br />
It's far too easy to rest on the negatives and important to remember how much I have done in such a small space of time with it so far.<br />
<br />
Fingers crossed it continues and that I don't die for some kind of stress-related illness in the interim.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
I stopped childminding. Hooray!<br />
<br />
It was fun, but kind of all-consuming. It's really nice not having to constantly panic about doing daft things like risk-assessing my own house daily. My whole house is one big risk and actually, it's a lot better for everyone's health if I never have to think too hard about it.<br />
<br />
The house is coming on, if albeit a bit slowly. We are finally getting somewhere with the dining/kitchen thing, and slow improvements are being made.<br />
<br />
It's very very difficult with two full time jobs, three kids and two dogs to get anything done quickly!<br />
<br />
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There's always someone who wants to sit on your knee.<br />
<br />
<br />
The kids are all good. <br />
<br />
Tom is older than I ever wanted him to be - he will be 10 this year and I'm starting to see wee bits of 'teen' in him. He asked for deoderant, has started 'doing' his hair and has stopped taking any real interest in toys and so on, favouring computers, gaming and anything Mario. Which is cool. I kind of always imagined my son would be into all of this stuff. He has stopped reading so much, which is frustrating - I thought I had him! But hey, he's replaced it with being a coding wizz, so swings and roundabouts!<br />
<br />
Ethan is Ethan. He is getting a little bit more savvy. He is full of personality and has such a funny sense of humour - sometimes a little bit older than it should be, but we'll blame his dad for that!<br />
He's figuring out the world at the moment and it is as complicated, scary and worrying for both of us I think. He has such a literal point of view which can cause him so much anxiety, but he is getting there.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Owen - well, where do I start? He's so chatty, so funny, so full of energy. A definite character and going through some kind of oedipal stage at the moment (which as a mum I love - what mother doesn't love being the centre of a wee one's world?) He makes me so happy and sad at the same time - we have this little blonde whirlwind of a creature in our lives and one day he will also grow up....<br />
<br />
Ah, Kids.<br />
<br />
And Dave is doing good. He is also working in the community - working hard as usual. He's really found his feet and continues to be my bestest buddy through everything. He's really helped me survive these last few months at work and at home and everything in between.<br />
<br />
So that's it from me for now...<br />
<br />
...more to follow?<br />
<br />
I hope so. I have certainly missed blogging. I should definitely do it more often.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-42267733554443771792017-01-15T15:06:00.002-08:002017-01-15T15:06:40.916-08:00One True TalentIt's a Tuesday afternoon and I have appeared at the school gates not once, but twice now in my quest to pick up the boys.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yet again I have completely forgotten that they had 'singing group' after school and I'm supposed to pick them up <i>later</i>.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And yes, I have completely and utterly forgotten what time bloody <i>later</i> is, so yes, I have spent what is supposed to be otherwise awesome child-free time wrestling a crotchety toddler in and out of his car seat and frantically hunting for the bastarding bit of paper with the pick up times on which I am SURE I kept, but actually, probably chucked out with all the other 'important information' which gets barrelled in from the school on a daily basis.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I suck.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am no good at school life mumming.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I love a good bit of admin. I do. I really, really do. In fact, I love all aspects of paperwork - it makes me feel so good getting out that black biro and ticking boxes, signing forms and perfecting letters on the crisp white sheets.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's the only time I feel like a half-decent person.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have nice handwriting. While I am writing something for work or school or in a group situation, I'm always very proudly rounding my letters and making sure my letters are neat and uniform.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They betray my true character (messy, unorganised bastard) and portray the best version of me - neat and diligent.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I get compliments on my writing "oh, how neat and lovely" and am pretty sure (and optimistic) that my writing will get me discovered one day and I can just do lovely writing as a profession, and everyone will know me as the lady with the gorgeous handwriting and will ask me to do all manner of important things for them.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Which I will do. Gladly, and flawlessly, eager to share my one true talent.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(Except it's not my one <i>true</i> talent. Oh no. Through my writing they will also discover I have an eye for fine detail, am good at drawing and also have a knack for watercolour. As time progresses, I also become famous for my man craft abilities, great cake decoration, amazing cooking skills and pretty sound general knowledge. Oh and, I am also an amazing singer too. "Sings like a nightingale")</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, I shall keep hand-writing the forms and filling out the letters and perfecting my swirly 'G' in the hope that it gets me noticed. You know, by the school secretary. Of the tiny village school.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well, you never know, right?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Dare to dream...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*Sigh*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the meantime, I suppose I had better to remember to fill out the bastarding school dinner forms so that middle son can leave it in his bag for another 4 weeks. </div>
<div>
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Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-4298275873367319262016-12-28T05:30:00.000-08:002016-12-28T05:30:20.854-08:00What's it to you, bub? Huh?As I write this, I'm watching my two dogs wrestle on the footstool.<br />
<br />
One is our rescue Collie, Kimmy and the other is our new rescue pup, Dolly.<br />
<br />
Doll is our latest addition to this crazy household, and a very welcome one too.<br />
<br />
Taken from a field in Hungary then taken to a killing station, she was then rescued, fostered for a while, then transported to Scotland where she was fostered again before coming home with us one wintry day.<br />
<br />
AT just 9 months old, she's been through a lot, though is settling extremely well.<br />
<br />
She needs work - but who doesn't?<br />
<br />
Oh, she's also very large.<br />
<br />
A big, playful, daft lump of a beast.<br />
<br />
But couthie, good with the kids and a really fun (if boisterous) playmate for Kim (who, after a lot of initial WTF is <i>this?! </i> is actually really enjoying having a play buddy)<br />
<br />
Getting your second dog is a bit like having your third child, I have discovered.<br />
<br />
People are less interested and more likely to say some not-very-nice-things inadvertently.<br />
<br />
To your face.<br />
<br />
Everyone is entitled to an opinion, and a lot of people feel free to use it as they wish.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Are you mad?"</i> Yes. We all know the answer to this.<br />
<i>"Have you not got enough to deal with"</i> That's up to me.<br />
<i>"Why? Just why?"</i> Why the hell not? I'm handling it. What's it to you?<br />
<br />
Well: free speech and all. I give not a jot. I'll let you decide if that's dog or kids they were asking about.<br />
<br />
The older I become, the less fucks I am inclined to give about what other people think about me. It is so very freeing.<br />
<br />
My life, my rules.<br />
<br />
I've recently found a new kind of courageousness which I think I would like to attribute to a loss of anxiety about what other people think about me.<br />
<br />
Fundamentally, I am a good and honest person. I honestly and promisedly swear that everything I do is done with good intentions.<br />
<br />
My failings are my own and I own them completely.<br />
<br />
I lack confidence in my abilities a lot of the time.<br />
<br />
I feel a lot of guilt about things outwith my control.<br />
<br />
I am hugely empathetic and this really is my downfall a lot of the time.<br />
<br />
But I am fed up of being an emotional doormat.<br />
<br />
So, as practiced for a few months now, I am now:<br />
<br />
Not taking any shit.<br />
<br />
Speaking up when it is unfair.<br />
<br />
Speaking up when people are rude to me.<br />
<br />
Ignoring any badness or bad feeling.<br />
<br />
Enjoying good intentions and goodness and laughing and loving and not feeling guilty or losing sleep or worrying.<br />
<br />
Done and done.<br />
<br />
Now - back to watching my two hairy babies play and be happy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-60233324167985544382016-12-18T14:18:00.003-08:002016-12-18T14:18:44.058-08:00The Blethering Boys Xmas Gift Guide 2016It's that time again!<br />
<br />
Geez, it come around far too quickly.<br />
<br />
My boys are at a rather tricky age this year, and I have to admit, I'm finding it difficult.<br />
<br />
We are past the age of being able to delight with any old thing and very much into the age of more thoughtful and defining gifts, which I have to say I prefer.<br />
<br />
I am very pleased to report that we must be having some kind of good affect on our kids through the way we conduct ourselves: already the boys have said that they don't care what they get, as long as everyone is happy and also that alongside their advent calendars this year, they would like to make a kindness jar, to enable them to do one kind deed each day.<br />
<br />
These little glimmers of kindness and awesomeness are what make me so very proud and happy as a parent; we must be doing something right!<br />
<br />
Like any parent, I still really want them to have what their hearts desire and this year, they have asked for tablets, so... :) We'll see what Santa brings!<br />
<br />
The boys are really into shopping and have been browsing for gifts for others too.<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><u>We hope you enjoy our Blethering Boys 2016 Christmas Gift Guide!</u></b></span></div>
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<b>STOCKING FILLERS</b></h2>
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You can't go wrong with a lovely set of colouring pencils, and these ones from the<b> Bic Kids</b> range (rrp, £2.99) make a perfect wee stocking filler for some holiday colouring.</div>
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Sweets are always a welcome additon too, with some tasty treats in these perfect stocking-sized boxes from Swizzels available in <b>Refreshers Softies, Wham bars and Fruit Salad Softies too</b>! Yum!</div>
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And why not investigate uber-awesome and multi-coloured <b>Smiggle</b> for some gorgeous pens, paper, bags, books and all-round squee! Perfect to brighten up a stocking!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEruJPGcB9XIAaeAUVJytPHZjfpZ8EjhQqNLOwa8FYOF9IglZr1RKDMtX7VOTp7vagUiR1x5l-_-8w7Ysmfj5O0Jb8ww9UNxt1p1MxUuFybQ-KvUmkiE6CL9fr4eBAvyxa16-4vLGHzCY/s1600/collagedad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEruJPGcB9XIAaeAUVJytPHZjfpZ8EjhQqNLOwa8FYOF9IglZr1RKDMtX7VOTp7vagUiR1x5l-_-8w7Ysmfj5O0Jb8ww9UNxt1p1MxUuFybQ-KvUmkiE6CL9fr4eBAvyxa16-4vLGHzCY/s640/collagedad.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><br /></b><b>GIFTS FOR THE LADS</b></h2>
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Stuck for a last-minute idea for the man in your life? </div>
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<b>The Braun Beard Trimmer</b> (rrp £39.99) is an ideal gift to help your man stay groomed to perfection.</div>
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A super-cool tee from <b>RedBubble</b> should do the trick - they have an amazing range of cool designs, niche interests and geeky goodies galore!</div>
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Or for the essential piece of man-kit, why not go for the <b>Leatherman Tread</b> (rrp, £139-£189.99) - the ultimate man-bracelet which doubles (triples and quadruples!) into a a multi-tool!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwcHVhdyVzxGkSkM_N3YAjZrreW8_qhyphenhyphen2gDg81MZ0emS1XXZi0xiVtROoCiuGbommmJnm6MJp-lhBFkt69ZIoT1Ge90S3dYid4p8Bob7d8zUpF4F2zB3jNIxgbMOH2f0bF774slYPtZY/s1600/kidsgifts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwcHVhdyVzxGkSkM_N3YAjZrreW8_qhyphenhyphen2gDg81MZ0emS1XXZi0xiVtROoCiuGbommmJnm6MJp-lhBFkt69ZIoT1Ge90S3dYid4p8Bob7d8zUpF4F2zB3jNIxgbMOH2f0bF774slYPtZY/s640/kidsgifts.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
GIFTS FOR THE BAIRNS</h2>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Disney's <b>The Lion Guard playset</b> (rrp £34.99) is a great gift for a wee one who loes a bit of <i>roar</i>-some fun!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The<b> Leapfrop Leaping Letters</b> (rrp£16.99) poses a great wee challenge for that niece or nephew who is just starting to learn their letters.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Of course <b>BB8 bobblehead</b>(rrp, £9.99) is bound to be a hit with Star Wars fans, old and young!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And the <b>Bic Colouring Activity Set</b> (rrp, £22) with 80 pieces, featuring Alvin and the Chipmunks is a lovely gift for that budding artist - and great value too!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrDSWnXStK15uLcI1yrqzEczCoEgWpWewb-B3NIl4ri8ZFy0L5mGT8YZnu-21fMZ813DFc_eJFVVRHuvkhucZRbyBjojz5LZo-jPJlTSFll89AHm9MdUFWLqqCKg-rY6mdbT6KPE_new/s1600/mum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrDSWnXStK15uLcI1yrqzEczCoEgWpWewb-B3NIl4ri8ZFy0L5mGT8YZnu-21fMZ813DFc_eJFVVRHuvkhucZRbyBjojz5LZo-jPJlTSFll89AHm9MdUFWLqqCKg-rY6mdbT6KPE_new/s640/mum.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
GIFTS FOR YER MAW</h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Yarden Dead Sea Salts with Frankincense and rose petals</b> (rrp, £8.99) are deliciously fragrant and make a wonderful gift to give yer maw a bit of well-earned relaxing time</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Ladybird Books</b> just keep coming up with some hilarious classics and 'The Mum' (rrp. £3.99) is one of my favourites!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Ness</b> do some really gorgeous bags and purses and this really beautiful bag, Milly (rrp, £39.99), has a gorgeously patterned silk lining too! Cute!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The thing I got excited by the most about the <b>VARV table lamp by IKEA</b> (rrp £50) is the fact that it's wireless! Waaaah! I hate wires. This one charges via usb and then stays bright for ages, making it cool and minimalistic too. Perfect!</div>
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Of course, this year I am all about the giving and Xmas, for me, wouldn't be complete without some form of charitabel giving. This year I am practicing what I preach and gifting via <a href="http://www.goodgifts.com/">www.goodgifts.com</a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Be sure to have a look at some of the lovely ways you can pass on the love to someone else who needs it :)</div>
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<div>
Thanks for reading the Blethering Boys 2016 gift guide. </div>
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<h2>
The boys and I would like to wish you all the very best of the season to you and yours.</h2>
</div>
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<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-13050546819245873372016-11-20T03:02:00.001-08:002016-11-20T03:07:28.345-08:00Noro very good weekendIt's been a week.<br />
<br />
What started with Tom asking what death felt like before vomming all over the couch has ended with myself, Owen, Ethan and Dave having the worst bout of Norovirus we've ever encountered.<br />
<br />
Here's what I have learned this week:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>We need more bedsheets</li>
<li>We need new loo seats</li>
<li>I need to clean toilets more often</li>
<li>Having an upstairs bathroom is great</li>
<li>Having a bathroom where the sink and loo are close together is a fucking lifesaver.</li>
<li>Children are better at bouncing back from illness than adults</li>
<li>My kids can basically look after themselves when they need to</li>
<li>Cold water is amazing</li>
<li>Tea and toast after Noro is basically better than tea and toast after having a baby.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gJmyhvadxtJAxZjy1hx1GoVQIBBgEY0g-zq25gDChRUM2PE_uaBAkVxWXrUPQH2rRnPA1kvbs2beWWD1E4ZYmM_WV8zcIVF2UXI9ucmtMTQ3bv5c_z-LzxQtf5ZBRPr9pQZLOU7sLss/s1600/norovirus-2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gJmyhvadxtJAxZjy1hx1GoVQIBBgEY0g-zq25gDChRUM2PE_uaBAkVxWXrUPQH2rRnPA1kvbs2beWWD1E4ZYmM_WV8zcIVF2UXI9ucmtMTQ3bv5c_z-LzxQtf5ZBRPr9pQZLOU7sLss/s320/norovirus-2-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ha! Indeed...You really do not!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I have never been so ill in my whole life.<br />
<br />
It's really kicked my ass.<br />
<br />
And as per usual, after a week of cleaning up after the kids, it's yours truly who ended up with the worst bout of it.<br />
<br />
Highlights of the week have included:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Dave catching two handfuls of sick from Tom</li>
<li>Owen sicking down my back</li>
<li>Poor Ethan having some truly awful poopy accidents five times in a row after he 'thought it was just a fart'</li>
<li>Me giving sage advice to Ethan about 'maybe not trusting a fart at this stage in the game' while he agreed, 'no, we shouldn't'</li>
<li>Owen not being able to trust his farts either</li>
<li>Hysterically laughing with Dave as he deals with poopy baby on the couch at 3 in the morning while I deal with the whole puke/shit-fest going on upstairs</li>
<li>Me heroically going to work after what will now be known as 'The Night of Hell' while poor Dave puked his guts up with baby and Ethan at home while Tom cheerfully went to school</li>
<li>Me coming home and laughing with everyone about how awesome my immune system is..</li>
<li>...only to come home from picking up Tom and basically go through my own awful 'Night From Hell Mark 2: The Revenge of Noro'.</li>
<li>Cracking my nose on the toilet lid which came crashing down on me as I puked violently into the bowl while trying to work out which end I would like to be over the toilet. I now have a black eye and possibly a broken nose.</li>
<li>Spending the night on the couch with the dog who kept running away every time I moved to go to the toilet (approximately every 5 mins for about 12 hours) then being greeted like a hero upon my return. Which is not as nice as it sounds when you feel like crap and just don't want any kind of interaction.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Just...yeah...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We are all thankfully feeling a lot better than we were. Everyone is bloody starving now, so one of us will have to draw straws to see who wants to re-enter being an adult today and go and get supplies.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Dave is basically a hero - I have no idea how he managed at home with two kids while feeling like that.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I basically haven't spoken to him for two days because me and the loo have spent so much time getting to know each other (we are getting a new non-collapsing toilet seat).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And, I found out yesterday, ironically, it was world Toilet Day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Someone is taking the piss.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-48889621049540539062016-11-16T12:05:00.000-08:002016-11-16T12:05:26.376-08:00Fuel for ThoughtAlong with our lovely wee cottage, we have adopted a real fireplace.<br />
<br />
We stupidly didn't use it last year - due to our 'townie' fear of burning the house down and the fact that the previous owner has been burning coal rather than wood, our epic room changing (is it a dining room? a living room? a general purpose room?) and first year with new baby in the house, we just didn't bother.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfV-ZUf34QRlFk8KgNybTrZ-TXH1R5NifGGtwa1ZlCUlW3wrX8T3OUjXROLcHfoJcBg9p4XZvUX4eGytsC3vxj25RAlXMzJdUWSfCSBi2HcQlLTk4viYYXi1Zi7Rdz2DDzA4JPZOQx8No/s1600/FB_IMG_14560659013452952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfV-ZUf34QRlFk8KgNybTrZ-TXH1R5NifGGtwa1ZlCUlW3wrX8T3OUjXROLcHfoJcBg9p4XZvUX4eGytsC3vxj25RAlXMzJdUWSfCSBi2HcQlLTk4viYYXi1Zi7Rdz2DDzA4JPZOQx8No/s320/FB_IMG_14560659013452952.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Owen in front of our derelict fireplace last year!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Which was daft.<br />
<br />
As soon as we cracked on with it one blustery cold evening, we began to understand how much we lost by NOT burning it last year.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's so, so, SO lovely to have a real fire crackling away in the background. I suppose that it is extra work, what with the cleaning of the grate etc, but on a cold night out in the sticks, it's just what you need.<br />
<br />
We had been burning the wood from the woodshed , which wasn't the best, but anyone who has a fireplace knows that the less money spent on burning fuel, the better - after all, burning money? Not a nice feeling.<br />
<br />
Burning wood is nice - there's the crackle and the roar - there's also the spitting and the flaring. You have to watch out for that!<br />
<br />
Once it's been going for a few hours it is lovely - but it can be tricky to get going.<br />
<br />
I was made up when the people at <a href="https://www.lektowoodfuels.co.uk/" target="_blank">Lekto Wood Fuels</a> sent me a sample of what they have to offer. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicfWMVIpTq_ktA3xja8f2_Ou9VTB17ItB0Udsw7Iwb6W_OKsE0-Y8jtK8Gnk6HarpxUv1tLB_NF-qH5h6Xa1iRLvKRaUMNu4zyOVEODxqOqse_15GdH1Er6YB16CYbZgyGHdZRQQmbdvk/s1600/s750424533340392418_p13_i16_w160.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicfWMVIpTq_ktA3xja8f2_Ou9VTB17ItB0Udsw7Iwb6W_OKsE0-Y8jtK8Gnk6HarpxUv1tLB_NF-qH5h6Xa1iRLvKRaUMNu4zyOVEODxqOqse_15GdH1Er6YB16CYbZgyGHdZRQQmbdvk/s1600/s750424533340392418_p13_i16_w160.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.lektowoodfuels.co.uk/store/p13/barkbriquettesfull" target="_blank">bark briquettes</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Over the last couple of weeks I've been alternating my usual wood with the Birch sawdust briquettes and the Bark briquettes.<br />
<br />
Both burn a lot longer and a lot easier than traditional wooden logs. <br />
<br />
They smell nice too - when I took them out of the pack to store in my indoor wood pile, they smelt very fresh and lovely. They were easy to stack too, with none of the usual splinters!<br />
<br />
So why burn briquettes?<br />
<br />
Here is some info I found on the lektofuels website:<br />
<br />
<ul style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #755b33; font-family: Merriweather, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5px; list-style-image: initial !important; list-style-position: outside !important; margin: 5px 0px !important; overflow: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 3em !important; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<li style="border: 0px; list-style: disc outside !important; margin: 3px 0px 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 5px !important; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Humidity – Briquettes are always dry. Their moisture level is only as high as 8%, while well-dried firewood comes in at 20%. This is an important factor, because the higher levels of moisture that any heating fuel contains means you feel less heat coming off the fuel. High-moisture wood fuel also burns slower and fills your flue with creosote and soot. Low-moisture briquettes are always ready to use.</li>
<li style="border: 0px; list-style: disc outside !important; margin: 3px 0px 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 5px !important; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Environmentally Friendly – Wood briquettes are eco-friendly. They are made from by-products (pure sawdust or bark) of the sawmill industry. No chemical additives or binding materials are used in their production. Briquettes are a carbon-neutral fuel. While burning with briquettes, the amount of CO2 emitted is no greater than the amount the tree absorbs during its growth cycle.</li>
<li style="border: 0px; list-style: disc outside !important; margin: 3px 0px 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 5px !important; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Reliable Product – By purchasing briquettes, you will always receive what you ordered, because the weight and quality for each package of briquettes is constant and does not vary from one package to the next. Each piece of these briquettes comes to you in the same size, weight, and shape. Each briquette has the same burning characteristics, and our customers become quite proficient at burning them.</li>
<li style="border: 0px; list-style: disc outside !important; margin: 3px 0px 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 5px !important; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Packaging – Briquettes are packed in simple, clean, transparent plastic bags. They are easy to stack and store. Briquettes require significantly less storage space than other wood fuels.</li>
<li style="border: 0px; list-style: disc outside !important; margin: 3px 0px 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 5px !important; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Ash – Briquettes produce very little ash. Their actual ash content equals around 1% from sawdust, and about 4.5% from bark. Since our briquettes are produced without adding any binding materials, the resulting ash from this product can be used as a fertilizer in your gardens.</li>
<li style="border: 0px; list-style: disc outside !important; margin: 3px 0px 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 5px !important; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Value for the Money – Briquettes are economical to use, they last longer than any firewood, they burn steadily, and they produce even, intense heat.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
They were very clean to burn - the ash swept up easily and I even found I could simply add it to the soil in my garden. <br />
<br />
There was little to no sparking AT ALL, so were great for a novice like me - they sat in the grate without any sparks or flares, making them ideal for burning when the kids were going about - I didn't have to worry about any embers jumping out (although OF COURSE I always take every precaution and have a HUGE fire-guard)<br />
<br />
The best thing they sent me to try, along with the briquettes, were the natural firelighters.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CeMnC6uRDXK-rsVVVFU7SxZgkKaiZd5eR_XpBVYB9ml6SisS0cI096Kj0XqJzcwVAc41fSVlC0v2LLYUrl2quym3WRCMvpf9r7xns2dI-YrM3U1TDu12QWAkHE8kbfJytJqJGiRBvsw/s1600/85ppi-wood-wool-firelighters-produkts_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CeMnC6uRDXK-rsVVVFU7SxZgkKaiZd5eR_XpBVYB9ml6SisS0cI096Kj0XqJzcwVAc41fSVlC0v2LLYUrl2quym3WRCMvpf9r7xns2dI-YrM3U1TDu12QWAkHE8kbfJytJqJGiRBvsw/s1600/85ppi-wood-wool-firelighters-produkts_2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">natural firelighters</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Made from sawdust and straw, and in a pellet form, they took quickly and burned for around 15 mins each, helping my fire to really get going.<br />
<br />
Check out Lekto Wood Fuels for more info on what they provide.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I wish I could provide a photo of my lovel lit fire, but I'm almost 100% sure now that Owen has managed to send my phone to landfill as I cannot find it anywhere! I hope to rectify this situation soon, but it is driving me absolutely crazy. It has been a month now and no sign of it whatsoever.<br />
<br />
Ahrgh! Kids!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-10058781036713997582016-11-02T14:02:00.001-07:002016-11-02T14:02:21.804-07:00NovemberNovember is upon us suddenly.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
I almost can't believe it.<br />
<br />
Next week America chooses the path of least...well...least...and the world has the potential to end.<br />
<br />
This last couple of months has been an especially trying time at home.<br />
<br />
And not.<br />
<br />
We have settled into the house a lot more now - things are very gradually starting to take shape and I think we have finally gotten over the initial 'euphoria' of a new place to live and also kind of get our heads around the fact that we are staying put.<br />
<br />
There's been a lot of decorating, work and general other shenanigans to deal with; when you have three children things are...complicated, to say the least!<br />
<br />
Especially when one of those children is a year old and basically into absolutely everything.<br />
<br />
Owen is great - he's the kid we really wanted and the kid we never expected too. He's a blonde bombshell and is just adorable in basically every way (which is lucky because he's basically also destroyed anything we've ever done in this house in every way. Let's just say we need to decorate again before we finished decorating).<br />
<br />
The other two boys have finally settled into routine and school life and have made friends (even if Tom is still clinging on for dear life to the idea that he's never going to - he has no confidence, just like his mum).<br />
<br />
I finally registered as a childminder and have been having total panic about it ever since, too scared to advertise in case someone actually wants to take me up on it and I have to be responsible for one more kid. Which I'm not really worried about. But I am.<br />
<br />
Stupid.<br />
<br />
Plus the usual head stuff: Do the other parents think I'm some kind of incompetent? They must do when they see me just trying to handle my own two crazy, loud, over-sensitive kids (are they over-sensitive or is this normal? Oh god, what is normal?) They must see the outside of my house and wonder what kind of a shit-show I'm running!? Surely? Ahrgh.<br />
<br />
Yeesh, I just feel like a terrible person all the time. I wish there was something I could do to boost my confidence; but then I guess it's this stuff that pushes me on. I'm never one to shy away from a challenge.<br />
<br />
I'm doing some volunteering two nights a week too, and it's kind of great. There's a real sense of accomplishment and I just enjoy hoping that we make a wee difference somewhere to someone who might otherwise be having a shitty time of it.<br />
<br />
So, yeah.<br />
<br />
No real news. Nothing exciting as of yet.<br />
<br />
Just...head down, keep going!<br />
<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-53830890257017269862016-09-11T06:23:00.000-07:002016-09-11T06:26:35.424-07:00I Am The Boss Of Me and I Am #NotSorryI've not written for a while - but that's okay.<br />
<br />
I am only accountable to myself for my own things. It's a new-found power which I am still trying out, but it's kind of great.<br />
<br />
It's very liberating to understand that you, yourself are the only person who is in control of how others make you feel.<br />
<br />
It is a really lovely thing to not give a fuck and to stop feeling guilty or worried about small scenarios or situations in in your head which otherwise clutter up your precious hours, minutes and days.<br />
<br />
It is understanding and playing with the fine line of happiness and the things that give you back little bits of self-respect which all add up to happy.<br />
<br />
I've just finished reading <i>The Life changing Magic of Not Giving A Fuck</i> and learning how to be #NotSorry.<br />
<br />
I am a born worrier. I have historically worried about all the little things from a very young age.<br />
<br />
How did I control this worry?<br />
<br />
I worried it all over in detail. I was convinced that if I worried over it even more, in finer detail, then I could convince myself that I've worried enough about it to warrant not worrying more.<br />
<br />
Which is a batshit waste of time.<br />
<br />
And I am sick fed up of trying so hard and only ending up apologising for myself. It's time to move on.<br />
<br />
I deserve not to be kept up at night worrying about what people think of me<br />
<br />
I deserve to feel in control of my life.<br />
<br />
I deserve to not feel obligated to obey and serve to the detriment of my own time, energy and stomach acid.<br />
<br />
Jeez - I am fed up of feeling sick about stuff.<br />
<br />
I may not always get things right, I might unwittingly upset people by accident, I may fuck things up from time to time, but I do it all with the best of intentions. I work bloody hard and I'll be fucked if I am going to apologise for my failings all the time. Everyone has them. Nobody is perfect.<br />
<br />
Here is what I have learned by stopping the worry:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li> It is okay to worry about the big things - life is really fucking stressful, but it's okay and healthy to acknowledge when there is problem. It is okay to worry out loud. It is more than okay to share the worry. Eventually the worry will pass. The problem will go. Worries come and go; this is normal.</li>
<li>It is not okay to let other people make you feel bad. It is perfectly okay to speak up when you feel disrespected and it is more than okay to say how you feel. To the person causing harm if needs be. I am a good person and usually always, always, <i>always</i> am doing my best with some really good intentions and I do not deserve disrespect. #NotSorry</li>
<li>Honesty goes a long way. Can't manage something? Be honest. Don't try to cover your tracks with white lies or a huge story; just say no. You are one person and any one person only has so much time, energy and love to give to something. It's okay to need to stop. It's okay to honestly admit this.</li>
<li>Mostly, any problems anyone has with you is completely theirs. Completely. And that's okay. Not your issue. Walk away, don't worry about it. Stay nice, but don't worry about it - you can't change how others feel about you. But still call the disrespect, because that shit is nasty. #NotSorry.</li>
<li>Try not to look to others to validate how you feel about something. If you have passion in your heart and good intentions than, fuck it. You have good intentions. #NotSorry</li>
</ul>
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Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-49245854842791673262016-08-24T14:54:00.001-07:002016-08-24T14:54:22.984-07:00The monetized barrier...Tom comes home with a letter from the school.<br />
<br />
"Dear Parent,<br />
<br />
A small number of vacancies exist for children to have lessons on violin/viola/cello...."<br />
<br />
...stuff about commitment and practice...<br />
<br />
...then the hard sell.<br />
<br />
" Cost of tuition: £231 (3 instalments of £77)<br />
<br />
Hire of instrument: £30"<br />
<br />
Yeesh, take that right in the face.<br />
<br />
"Lessons are free if you are in receipt of:<br />
<br />
Income support<br />
Job Seekers Allowance (income based)<br />
Employment & Support Allowance (imcome related)<br />
Child Tax Credit (with annual income of less than £16,105)<br />
Child Tax Credit and Working Tax Credit (with annual income of less than £16,105)<br />
Universal Credit"<br />
<br />
That's not us.<br />
<br />
We are <i>just</i> over the bracket of a sizeable enough income to exclude us from any kind of benefit, thankfully (apart from the bastarding life-saving Working Tax ones which they keep messing up, grr. But really - thank goodness for them. Otherwise we would be homeless by now!)<br />
<br />
But only just.<br />
<br />
But three installments of £77?<br />
<br />
No can do.<br />
<br />
At the moment, that's a week's worth of shopping. Two and a half weeks most months if I'm honest. It's amazing how far a big bag of pasta can stretch between five and a dog.<br />
<br />
I say: amazing, I mean: I am so fed up of pasta.<br />
<br />
Tom came home buzzing about having tried out the cello: " I was SO good at it, mum!"<br />
<br />
He's scanning my face to see what I'm going to say.<br />
<br />
In his heart of hearts, he knows I'm not going to deny him access to something he is passionate about or could be really good at, so we have the conversation:<br />
<br />
"You'd have to practice <i>every. single. day."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I know!"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
"You'd have to perform in the school orchestra at events and stuff. No option not to."<br />
<br />
"<i>I know! It'd be so cool...I've seen them do that..."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
Then it crushes me - we've had to say no to so much over the last couple of years, he's unsure. I can see in his eyes he's given up already. He knows it's not a reality.<br />
<br />
I'm unsure now whether it's because he's scared he's going to under-perform in some way, not be good enough or if he can see in my eyes the panic and the calculation of how and when £77x3 might come from over the next year.<br />
<br />
When I was Tom's age, I learned the violin at school. I did it for about 6 years and right into high school...until I suddenly had to pay for it.<br />
<br />
See, my mum was a single parent and we just didn't have the money for stuff like that.<br />
<br />
I was okay at the violin - I was no prodigy - but I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the group of people who did music; I never felt like I fit in anywhere else really. I was good at Art, but Art was expensive - full of trips to Paris and expensive materials there was no way I would be able to get up the courage to ask my mum for.<br />
<br />
Languages were all about text books and more trips abroad. Very expensive trips abroad.<br />
<br />
I dodged them all carefully. I had a job, but that paid for my school uniform. I was the kid who got EMA to get by. That's how we lived.<br />
<br />
I guess I always assumed that when I was married and had a job and two incomes in the house that this other stuff would just...be okay.<br />
<br />
And it will be one day (everything crossed).<br />
<br />
But for now, my boy will miss out. Which is a shame. I feel like money is the barrier to him maybe being good at music.<br />
<br />
Maybe being a wizard at rock climbing.<br />
<br />
Maybe being an amazing computer coder.<br />
<br />
Maybe getting decent at football or gymnastics or something sporty enough to help him out at school with some friends.<br />
<br />
He's not poorly off. He has clothes that fit. He has a roof over his head. He has a big bloody garden to play in and gets gifts on his birthday.<br />
<br />
Lucky, lucky, lucky. Beyond lucky.<br />
<br />
We have that 'work/life/balance' thing down (at last) where he spends tangible amounts of time with both parents.<br />
<br />
We are safe, we don't live in an earthquake zone, there's no war in our streets.<br />
<br />
He doesn't always have what he would <i> like</i> to eat, but he has <i>enough </i>to eat.<br />
<br />
Lucky. Lucky. So, so, lucky.<br />
<br />
He has a lot of good things going that other kids don't.<br />
<br />
But sometimes I feel like we are the shit in the shit sandwich, you know? We're not the end, we're not the crust but the shit in the middle.<br />
<br />
And when he comes home yet again with something else that kids in his class are raving about doing, when he wants to go to the sports class, or try something new or do something out of the ordinary and I shrug it off with the age-old, "sorry, buddy, it's just too much.."...ahrgh, it kills me.<br />
<br />
I feel like my kids are forced out of all this stuff. I wish everything for kids to be accessible to all children, regardless of status.<br />
<br />
Especially as opportunities are becoming more monetized.<br />
<br />
It's such a shame.<br />
<br />
I know I'm probably not harbouring the next rock star. I'm probably not sitting on some great architect or the doctor who will cure cancer once and for all....but how do we know for sure?<br />
<br />
What if he is the next Andy Murray?<br />
<br />
What if he has the potential for something we cannot afford to unlock because of the monetized barriers?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-13367997587216779682016-08-23T02:57:00.000-07:002016-08-23T03:03:31.600-07:00Minding My BusinessFor those of you who don't know, I'm in the business of setting up as a Childminder.<br />
<br />
With this come all of the crazy and absolutely necessary checks, detailed disclosures and policy-writing which we have come to expect in our society. Because, you know, why let normal people get on with their every day lives and actually help each other out when it could be a prohibitive, costly and time-consuming process?<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
If you are wondering where British jobs went - they are here; box-ticking and writing nonsense which gets updated every few years.<br />
<br />
Dave and I have just applied for our enhanced disclosures with, like, a bajillion forms of I.D, proofs of address and such. I have had, I think, three disclosures before, and Dave has had about six and also been registered with the Social Services Council as a care manager, but you know - that'll be another £100 please. Credit card.<br />
<br />
My doctor has to sign me off. Without seeing me. I haven't had a named doctor in over ten years. That includes three troublesome pregnancies. I could be telling them any old nonsense - 'how many units of alcohol do you drink a week?' Me: 'Oh, none, doctor! I'm tee-total! *blush*<br />
<br />
I'm not a raging alcoholic by any means - but who knows? Maybe I'm sitting in my bathroom drinking two bottles of wine while the kids eat lunch (I'm not). There's a fee for this too apparently. Puke. Credit Card.<br />
<br />
Social services get a letter all of their own. I have to declare that I've never hurt a child and they get to sign it and say they've never heard of me. Again - not sure what this is supposed to prevent. Any bona fide child abuser isn't going to tick the box and write a comment saying - 'well, actually, I am a bit of a dick to kids' while applying to actively have a job looking after them. No fee - lucky us!<br />
<br />
The fire department have to inspect my house (which reminds me I need a fire blanket) and tell me off probably for the polystyrene ties on my ceiling which I SWEAR I'm going to get down as soon as I get a ladder. Though they are beside our bedrooms, so really, if anyone's going to die, it will be me and Dave in the middle of the night. We've already weighed this up with ripping out actual light fittings/discovering horrid things underneath said tiles. The joys of old houses. Credit carding fire equipment. Jeez, fire equipment is expensive.<br />
<br />
There's a First Aid Course. Credit Card.<br />
<br />
Induction to Childminding. Credit Card.<br />
<br />
Member ship of Childminding Association. Credit Card.<br />
<br />
And, well, I have to send off all of the policies I have written (stolen from another minder and edited) saying what I would do in any given situation, which you know, when kids are involved, is never as straight forward and text-booky as anyone would like. £28 to process this. Credit card.<br />
<br />
But hey, <i>just in case</i>...<br />
<br />
THEN someone will get to come to my house, which no doubt Dave and I will have panic-tidied into oblivion and I will have my showhome-for-a-day, which will be nice and then IF we pass all of this we get to invite 3 whole children to come and play with my 3 kids after school and maybe for whole days occasionally.<br />
<br />
Except at least I get paid for it.<br />
<br />
Ha ha ha ha ha!<br />
<br />
And probably taxed brutally for because it's a second income.<br />
<br />
*sigh*<br />
<br />
I'm just a girl, with a shit ton of bills who wants one good, steady income without any faff.<br />
<br />
Why is this too much to ask?<br />
<br />
Life really is like walking through treacle sometimes.<br />
<br />
I just want a job where I get paid, can work as much as I can and need and can progress.<br />
<br />
More and more, it feels like I'm never going to get there.Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-18584290234065491032016-08-22T02:57:00.001-07:002016-08-22T02:57:52.535-07:00Butterfly Butterfly...It's a wet day outside and I feel peaceful.<br />
<br />
The baby is asleep, the dog is curled up on the sofa and the boys are at school. Dave is at work too, so it's just me and my thoughts.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
It's Monday. <br />
<br />
I have a long working week stretching out ahead of me and my brain has been racing with so many different ideas.<br />
<br />
I spent the weekend clearing out the garage, purging, cleansing; it felt so good.<br />
<br />
Out with the old, in with so much possibility.<br />
<br />
It's so exciting to make New Space.<br />
<br />
I have so many plans.<br />
<br />
My head feels like my garage today.<br />
<br />
I've cleaned out some of the clutter and now tons of new ideas are whizzing through my brain.<br />
<br />
I have so much that I want to do.<br />
<br />
So much capability.<br />
<br />
The mind of a creative person can be overwhelming at times.<br />
<br />
Dave fondly calls it my 'butterfly' personality; never content with doing one thing, I like to do several things at once. Nobody but me can see the logic in this.<br />
<br />
I'm never content with doing one project in one go - I need to space it out, let it grow and develop. I want the best possible outcome and sometimes the only way you can see something from every angle, is if you step away for a while and come back to it.<br />
<br />
I usually get there eventually.<br />
<br />
Today though, I am happy for the peace. I am happy for the raindrops on the window and the chance to stew a little.<br />
<br />
Even us fast-paced, over-achieving creative heads need some down time...<br />
<br />
Oooh, look, some fabric....<br />
<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-57972578137208830832016-08-21T01:46:00.001-07:002016-08-21T01:46:50.381-07:00Negative SixteenI wake up in my lovely home with my lovely healthy family and I am thankful.<br />
<br />
I am grateful.<br />
<br />
We have our health, we have a roof over our heads and we have each other.<br />
<br />
Compared to a lot of people in this world, this country, this vicinity, that's a lot.<br />
<br />
I'm not one for taking things for granted.<br />
<br />
I have a job that pays money.<br />
<br />
My husband also has a job that pays money.<br />
<br />
We have cars to get us to and from those jobs.<br />
<br />
We have managed to jiggle childcare so that our children are safe and looked after when we are at work.<br />
<br />
So far, so good, right?<br />
<br />
Today is the third day that I have woken up with the knowledge that we have zero money.<br />
<br />
Zip.<br />
<br />
Zilch.<br />
<br />
Nowt.<br />
<br />
In fact, the next time we get any, we will have to give up about £16 before we have any, because, yes, we are over our overdrafts (plural). Again.<br />
<br />
What I have discovered is that people, unless they have been in this situation themselves, do not like to talk about money issues. They get embarrassed or it becomes a game about who has less, who is struggling more.<br />
<br />
It's a strange thing.<br />
<br />
Like everything, I am probably far too honest and frank about our situation. I like to keep things real. Mainly because I really don't see why it has to be such a big secret; we had a hard time, we had to bail ourselves out and now we are suffering the consequences. We are working as hard as we possibly can every single day to get through it, but it's not going to suddenly get easier any time soon.<br />
<br />
And it is really hard. And it is really fucking stressful. And I am sorry, but if I don't talk about how hard and stressful it is sometimes, I really am going to implode with the worry and the strain of it all.<br />
<br />
While we are lucky to have what we have, it doesn't make it any less stressful when you suddenly run out of baby milk and have no money to buy more. And cannot for the life of you think how in the heck you are going to find that money within the next couple of hours.<br />
<br />
In the last month I :<br />
<br />
Owe more money to more people than I am comfortable with for services already rendered.<br />
<br />
Have not eaten a square fucking meal. I survive on bread based items with the occasional vegetable chucked in for good measure.<br />
<br />
Had a decadent night of wine and cheese and instantly fucking regretted it because honestly, do you know how much reduced bread I could have shoved in the freeze with that money? Ugh!<br />
<br />
Got stopped by police on a Saturday morning on my way to work (!) for a flat tyre which I then had to pump up <i>in front of them</i> at the side of the road while hoping and praying that they wouldn't clock that I need another new tyre (new tyres are, like, £45 each!) Thankfully it's a super-slow puncture and it held and is still road-legal.<br />
<br />
Spent two hours crying because I realised that at the end of the month my car tax is due and thus I need to add yet another direct debit on to the bunch which we cannot afford.<br />
<br />
Have properly panicked when Tom announced cheerily 'it's less than two months until our birthdays!' *hyperventilation!*<br />
<br />
Frantically been round the house trying to sell anything of any value. Then our oven door broke and even though we really need our oven, we couldn't afford to pay the excess on the bloody house insurance to get a new oven, so we are stuck with the shitty oven which I'm sure doesn't work properly (we did however credit card a new door for it....ugh don't get me started on the credit card fear)<br />
<br />
It did however lead us to a conclusion that there's probably no point in us paying for contents insurance, because honeslty and promisdly, aside from the playmobil castle that our lovely neighbour handed in for our boys, we have nothing in our house which could not happily be replaced for less than £100.<br />
<br />
Panicked like crazy because Tom now has to pay for school dinners now that he is in p4. Free school dinners until P3 was a fucking <i>godsend</i>.<br />
<br />
Annnnnnd I hoping that the government has fucked up our tax credits somehow and that we get more than we are getting, because honestly, they have sent us three letters now and it's like some horrible fucking game where they reduce the amount every time; it's like torture.<br />
<br />
I'm a do'er. In situations like this I fight, I think outside of every box I can find and I try my best to make a new situation to fix it.<br />
<br />
I dream daily of the freedom to run my own business so I can work long hours and get a living from it, to not be tied by corporate rules and regulations. To have the freedom to earn.<br />
<br />
I have so much energy to give, can do so much - why is it not fucking good enough to make sure that my kids have shoes that fit, that we all have enough to eat, to put a fucking tyre on my bastard car when it needs one instead of playing fucking russian roulette everytime we drive?<br />
<br />
I need opportunity. I don't know whether I need to make that for myself or not because I am sick fed up of pounding at other doors and asking.<br />
<br />
The stress, man. The fucking <i>stress</i>.<br />
<br />
No wonder I'm going grey!<br />
<br />
I have to try and remember the positives, because honestly, we are fucking blessed really, but sometimes it really is shit, you know?<br />
<br />
Sorry for all the swearing.<br />
<br />
Swearing helps.<br />
<br />
But honestly, I do think we should talk more about money stuff. <br />
<br />
And not in the 'oh, it's terrible, our savings are doing nothing, hahahahaha!' kind of way (as someone recently said to me; try not to cry when you've not eaten jack shit for a week and someone says something 'funny' about savings...everyone's a joker...)<br />
<br />
I think it should be okay to say, 'actually, we are really fucking tight right now' and maybe get a hug instead of an embarrassed silence.<br />
<br />
Things get shit for everyone sometimes. And that's okay.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-60079485306837117602016-07-27T13:44:00.001-07:002016-07-27T13:44:58.592-07:00My son didn't sleep for 5 years and I know how it endsI have one of those kids.<br />
<br />
The one that never sleeps.<br />
<br />
I speak now from the other side (barely).<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sweet sleep-stealer</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
I am there.<br />
<br />
It does exist: The Elusive Other Side.<br />
<br />
I have spent HOURS on the fucking floor, at the end of beds, hovering at the doorway, waiting for the child to SLEEP.<br />
<br />
I have read books on repeat,<i> ad infinitum</i>, hoping for that elusive moment where he is finally asleep...<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of www.crappypictures.com</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
I have tried sleep training, sleep cry-ing-it-out, sleep being-especially-nice and being entirely firm and shouting and crying and being so nice it hurts.<br />
Bribery, sticker charts, happy words, angry words, empathy.<br />
<br />
I have been through the works.<br />
<br />
I have had doctors, health visitors, friends, family, neighbours' opinions, hearing tests, sensitivity tests, blood tests...<br />
<br />
<h3>
Sometimes they Just. Don't. Fucking. Sleep.</h3>
<br />
I am speaking completely as a soldier from the other side of the war: in all honesty there is no secret 'thing', no tricks, no manipulation.<br />
<br />
<b><u>I'm so sorry.</u></b><br />
<br />
The only bloody thing that has worked in the end, in the long run, at the end of the day, is TIME.<br />
<br />
I've had all the books, the parenting manuals.<br />
<br />
The bloody hypnotising rabbit.<br />
<br />
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<br />
I tried night lights and splitting the boys up and bunk beds and separate beds.<br />
<br />
We had the family bed (my poor back), the floor bed (don't ask!) the sleepovers, the late nights, the early nights and the fairy lights.<br />
<br />
Audio books. Done.<br />
<br />
Sitting outside the door. Tick.<br />
<br />
End of the bed. Oh the endless hours.<br />
<br />
Being a total bitch and telling him he HAS to go to sleep because <i>we can't keep doing this, okay? You are a big boy now, you have to be able to go to sleep on your own...please...mummy has lots and lots to do and I'm just here, you can still see me, you can still hear me...</i>while he sobs and pleads and begs and it all ends in tears from both of us...<br />
<br />
Years.<br />
<br />
Not days.<br />
<br />
Not hours.<br />
<br />
Not months.<br />
<br />
Years.<br />
<br />
Somehow...inexplicably...probably after one of those very very rare nights of sleep when Ethan was 4 years old and we had maybe had a holiday and some food and were genereally totally caught off guard, we decided a third child would be a magical addition to our brood.<br />
<br />
Somehow.<br />
<br />
Don't you judge me - being a parent is filled with the complete absurdity of spending a lot of time in absolute despair while also spending a lot of time in complete love and adoration for what you have made.<br />
<br />
We had our third baby.<br />
<br />
And LUCKILY, very very luckily, he is a dream to put to bed (much like the first).<br />
<br />
Magically, Ethan has settled.<br />
<br />
We have still had our problems.<br />
<br />
It's not been perfect or smooth-sailing or completely a black-and-white progression, but somehow...it's good now (fingers crossed, touch wood etc etc)<br />
<br />
He goes to bed alone.<br />
<br />
In his own space,<br />
<br />
He stays there all night.<br />
<br />
Very occasionally. he gets into our bed and sleeps with us, but it's really not often (my back is a lot happier.)<br />
<br />
Someone advised that I should write a piece to tell you all my secret of getting my son to sleep: I have no secrets.<br />
<br />
There are no tricks.<br />
<br />
He decided he was going to stay in his bed.<br />
<br />
Some nights he still asks for s, but it's not half as bad as it was.<br />
<br />
<br />
I know you came here on the promise that I was going to help you to get your kid to sleep.<br />
<br />
I think what I really want to tell you is trope-y as fuck and a bit shit.<br />
<br />
It will pass.<br />
<br />
Your baby will stop being a baby.<br />
<br />
He (or she) will consider himself (or herself) big enough to do it him (or her) self and they will do it.<br />
<br />
And gradually, oh so slowly and surely, it will dissipate.<br />
<br />
Suddenly it will be something that you used to do.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I suggest you do what you need to do.<br />
<br />
I have regrets, sure , we all do as parents.<br />
<br />
I DO NOT regret:<br />
<br />
Putting him into nursery to get a break.<br />
<br />
Buying more wine/beer to 'treat' myself after a particularly difficult session of getting him to sleep.<br />
<br />
Trying absolutely everything with gusto.<br />
<br />
Tapping out and letting my husband/mum/whoever else do it (so they can also realise I'm not making this shit up).<br />
<br />
I DO regret:<br />
<br />
The crying it out - it was fairly obvious he was never going to go to sleep this way and it made bedtime an absolutely awful process for both of us.<br />
<br />
Not just letting him sleep in our bed when he requested it; there's an innate thing in a child to be nurtured - I don't know whose agenda I was playing to when I denied him that nurturing.<br />
<br />
Not just going with my instincts and making a family bed. Or feeling judged for my feelings. I was never FOR co-sleeping, but it sure as hell would have made or lives a helluva lot more easier if I'd simply just went with my gut feeling and let him go in the bed with us, if that was what it took to get a good night's sleep.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry I have no magic cure.<br />
<br />
I absolutley know what you were hoping for.<br />
<br />
All I can say is, I have made it.<br />
<br />
I am there.<br />
<br />
There is an end. It will come.<br />
<br />
Hold on. Be kind to yourself. Be kind to your kid.<br />
<br />
It will pass.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3298101854573683066.post-13197538383125960982016-07-06T12:57:00.002-07:002016-07-06T12:57:35.644-07:00New Shoes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My littlest Blethering Boy got his first pair of shoes this week and he is super chuffed about them!<br />
<br />
He loves his shoes.<br />
<br />
I almost forgot how important these little milestones are for wee ones. And for us!<br />
<br />
As a third child, I try really hard to not forget about all the wee things that make up Owen's babyhood.<br />
<br />
It's not easy though, when we have so many other things going on.<br />
<br />
Where most first-time parents are making everything about their littlest person, I am often caught unawares by the next stage.<br />
<br />
It feels like my littlest guy, the one I wanted to hold onto the longest, is shooting up faster than I imagined.<br />
<br />
With Thomas, it felt like I had an eternity of him; almost too much time. I used to feel the strain of every minute detail and worried over the slightest thing. I did two baby books. I wrote all the 'firsts' on a calendar. I made hand prints and foot prints and baby albums.<br />
<br />
When Ethan came along, I felt the angst of dealing with two small children, picking at the small bits and trying my best to get through the day.<br />
<br />
The two of them together were very hard work and I got little respite from that.<br />
<br />
I always felt anxious for them to be more independent, to go to nursery, to spend time with others. I needed the break, I needed to go to work, I needed them to play by themselves for a bit. I needed to make sure they had good experiences and that I kept my promises and that we spent good time together as a famly; and we did.<br />
<br />
And now, this third, sweet, delicious child.<br />
<br />
The one we knew would be the last.<br />
<br />
He fits in, slots in like we've had him forever.<br />
<br />
We forgot the baby book.<br />
<br />
We tried with the milestone cards (we really did).<br />
<br />
But we are taking it all in. Inhaling every moment deeply.<br />
<br />
Every day I examine his face for changes. <br />
<br />
I despair when he moves up yet another size in clothes.<br />
<br />
His first shoes were a size 4!<br />
<br />
We didn't spend £25 on his first pair, because we know a lot of things about baby shoes - how long they last, the liklihood of him losing one in the street, the grief and stress of spending wasted hours searching for the other shoe in parks and supermarkets; not worth it.<br />
<br />
But he has shoes.<br />
<br />
He is happy.<br />
<br />
I wish he would stop growing!<br />
<br />
<br />Blethering boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15634522937681092922noreply@blogger.com0