Haven Cala Gran Holiday Summer 2019 (part one)

We had a total blast this summer in my favourite place.

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.

Well, technically, Fleetwood, but hey, we were there for the main attraction.

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!

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.

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.

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.

Man, Blackpool is expensive.

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).

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.

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.

"But the kids had fun"

Yes.  Yes they did.

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.

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!

He was definitely more chilled this year - not massively - but it was certainly a bit more pleasant.

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).

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!

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.

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.

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.

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!

HA HA, Dave!

(If you have any interest in this - a barm cake is made with excess foam from beer making! A roll is not!)

It may have been a more heated argument than it needed to be...aherm...

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.

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.

Honestly, I wonder what we all look like sometimes.

"But the kids had fun"

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.

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!)

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....

"But the kids had fun"

They did!  And so did I, really...

Part 2 to follow...

The Struggle Is Real

I'm not having the best week.

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.

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.


What is wrong with me?

That's the question I asked myself for a good couple of weeks: What is wrong with me?

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?

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:

"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. 
The youngest is full on Oedipal, spending the majority of his time 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.
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.
Plus, the eating!!! All they do is consume!!! What have I made?!
I fear our household is the biggest contributor to landfill in the world (sorry everyone else), despite my efforts.
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' 🤨, 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.
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! 😞)
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.
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!"

I fully expected to be taken apart for my comment  but I didn't really care.  I was at the end of my tether.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that we have not had it easy, and that all things considered, we are doing okay.

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.

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.

Man, life is easier by miles when you have some kind of liquid cash to put into activities.

And everything costs money - I mean, everything.

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.

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.

Something popped up on my Facebook feed today that reminded me that this time, 5 years ago, someone had our kids overnight!

Can you imagine!

Which makes that the last time we spend a night together alone away from the kids.

And in that post, I mention how the last time before that had been 3 years previous.

That means we have had 2 nights away from our children in EIGHT FUCKING YEARS.

No wonder I am feeling a wee bit fraught.

I love my children, with every bone in my body I love them.  

But, man, I am tired.  And I am so in need of a break.

The last time Dave and I had more than 2 hours alone together was back in March.

March 22nd, to be exact.

And I hate to say it, but I am jealous.

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.

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. 
 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.

As does everyone!

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.

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.

I sincerely wish that the women on my computer that day lived beside me.

Thank fuck for the internet or I might have not survived the last week.

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. 

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.

Jaded

I think I have become slightly jaded and lost my way a bit.

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.

It's been a rough ride.

Me, the week I decided I was leaving my job.  Check out the eyebags.  Anyone who says mental health is invisible is a liar!

It took a lot for me to walk away.  

First came the huge guilt - would everything be okay if I left, would things fall by the wayside?  

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?

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.

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?

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?

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...

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.

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.

Meanwhile, I could barely breathe.

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.

I had no income.

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.

I put my all into applying for all the jobs I didn't want.

I got one.  It's really not me.  

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.

And boy, do I need purpose.

Even writing at the moment doesn't feel right.  

I feel stunted - stunted by my gender, by my level in life, by my position and by my status.

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...

Should of, should have never, should be....

What the heck have I done?

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?

And if so, what the heck have I done to deserve this?

I've got so much to give, so much love to spread, so much passion to pour into the right thing.  

Could I just please get a chance to do this without being shafted all the time?

Please?

 

Banana Pancakes

My goodness, it has been a while since I have been here.  Terrible excuse, but I have been really busy, honest!!!

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: https://www.rainbowhousedundee.org.uk

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!

Pair this with the volunteering I have been doing with local charity https://www.togsfortotsdundee.org doing their social media, dropping in to do bits and bobs when I can and trying to formulate endless plans, fundraising etc....

...plus 3 kids....3 dogs (whoops, how ON EARTH did that happen?!)

Yup...three hooligans and three kids too - how DO I fit it all in?

Honestly?  I have no idea.

I am shattered.

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?!?)

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...

...well...

...not too comfortable.

That would be boring, eh?

The Incredibles 2 - a trip with my boys

Now that the older boys are a bit less feral, it's actually pretty enjoyable to be out and about with them.
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.

I feel like I have earned this.

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.

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!!
(Which was the issue I had to deal with at work)
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.

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.

It didn't end well.  There might have been shouting from all of us.

I stopped.



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....

Last night we went to the cinema together for the first time since I started my new job, which is MONTHS ago now.

We went to see The Incredibles 2.

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.

Ethan exclaimed at the amount of adults in the audience: 'Where are the kids?  Why are they coming on their own?!'

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.

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.
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.

  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.

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.

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.

I am not Mrs. Incredible and yes, I do feel like Elastigirl - constantly over-stretching myself.

The small film at the start of the movie was even more poignant and actually had me in tears.

Bao

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.

Another conversation-starter with my boys about how life is for women, and especially those with sons.  Their reactions?

Were beautiful.

They get it.

They understand.  Which makes me feel like I am doing something right.

This was an important and much-needed check-in.  And I will be doing it more often.  Too much work, not enough boy-time.

Passions and Indifference.

It's Friday.

It's middle May and I am plaughing through my life one screen at a time.

The last 3 years have been an incessant head-noise.

My ears have been so full of the hum of busy days, that I have barely had time to assess what's happening.

Life is nothing, if not always full of surprises.

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.

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.

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.

I gave up my time, my heart and my soul.

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...

My passion bit me on the bum.

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.

I feel like I've had a really horrible break up - or my best friend has ghosted me.

Suddenly, I can't share the posts from the charity looking for help.

It's ridiculous.

I feel lost.

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.

It's sink or swim time for my passions.

Every time one gets destroyed I feel a little harder, a little colder.

Life is full of disappointment.  Why do I take them so personally?

I think it's because I constantly do the hokey cokey - I always put my whole self in.

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.

Passion, passion, passion.  Heart-bursting-with-joy passion.

And now?

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.

I'm working harder and more efficiently. I'm tougher. 

Is this who I am now?

Like being disappointed by someone constantly over time, I have become the opposite of love - I have become indifferent.

And it's such a dull and empty feeling.

Protective, maybe?

I'm so fed up of being hurt that I've become indifferent.

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.

God - do I ever do that to anyone?

I hope not.

I seem to be the common denominator: a silly wee lassie with her heart on her sleeve.

As for this job, I suppose I am wary. So wary of my passions.  My ability to be hurt.

I can track it back to so many things.

Have I ever fit in?  Will I ever have a 'safe' group?

I thought I'd found it.

And again, here I am - on the outside, looking in.

The Post-Holiday Dread

I've been on annual leave for a week and I don't want to go back to work.

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.

Do I have to go back?

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).

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.


What am I going back to?

What has or hasn't been done?

Will I be surprised (pleasantly or otherwise)?

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.
On Tuesday we shopped for new flooring and started some DIY.
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.
Thursday we wenyt shopping and had brunch at Wetherspoons, enjoying our child-free time.
On Thursday I also had to sit and pay the wages, which took a few hours. 
Friday, I had plans with a friend.  Calamity Jane at the cinema in Perth, followed by lunch and a spot of shops. 
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.
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.
Today I woke up and it was sunny.  Really sunny.

I was a little hungover from the night's ablutions, but I was keen to not waste the day.

Suggestions of going out - it's a sunny day, we should 'do something'.

I stepped into the garden to take the dogs out...windy, cold...nope.

I came back in - "we can go out, but somewhere inside please".

So: Ice Skating.

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.

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!'

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.

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.

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!

The boys really want to do more, so I think we will take them to lessons every week.

Which are pricey, and something we could never even begin to contemplate before.

But now am earning a much better wage, so....

Ah, shit.

You see what I've done here?

Back to work tomorrow.... :(