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.

The monetized barrier...

Tom comes home with a letter from the school.

"Dear Parent,

A small number of vacancies exist for children to have lessons on violin/viola/cello...."

...stuff about commitment and practice...

...then the hard sell.

" Cost of tuition: £231 (3 instalments of £77)

Hire of instrument: £30"

Yeesh, take that right in the face.

"Lessons are free if you are in receipt of:

Income support
Job Seekers Allowance (income based)
Employment & Support Allowance (imcome related)
Child Tax Credit (with annual income of less than £16,105)
Child Tax Credit and Working Tax Credit (with annual income of less than £16,105)
Universal Credit"

That's not us.

We are just 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!)

But only just.

But three installments of £77?

No can do.

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.

I say: amazing, I mean: I am so fed up of pasta.

Tom came home buzzing about having tried out the cello: " I was SO good at it, mum!"

He's scanning my face to see what I'm going to say.

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:

"You'd have to practice every. single. day."

"I know!"

"You'd have to perform in the school orchestra at events and stuff.  No option not to."

"I know! It'd be so cool...I've seen them do that..."

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.

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.

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.

See, my mum was a single parent and we just didn't have the money for stuff like that.

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.

Languages were all about text books and more trips abroad.  Very expensive trips abroad.

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.

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.

And it will be one day (everything crossed).

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.

Maybe being a wizard at rock climbing.

Maybe being an amazing computer coder.

Maybe getting decent at football or gymnastics or something sporty enough to help him out at school with some friends.

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.

Lucky, lucky, lucky.  Beyond lucky.

We have that 'work/life/balance' thing down (at last) where he spends tangible amounts of time with both parents.

We are safe, we don't live in an earthquake zone, there's no war in our streets.

He doesn't always have what he would  like to eat, but he has enough to eat.

Lucky. Lucky. So, so, lucky.

He has a lot of good things going that other kids don't.

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.

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.

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.

Especially as opportunities are becoming more monetized.

It's such a shame.

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?

What if he is the next Andy Murray?

What if he has the potential for something we cannot afford to unlock because of the monetized barriers?

Vegetarian Cupboard Staples To Get You Through

Sometimes a wage packet won't stretch as far as you think, for whatever reason.

Sometimes life throws some surprises your way; broken appliances, illness, car trouble.

Don't fret about tough times; why not pick up these staples and keep them in your cupboard to get you through until next pay day.



Baked Beans - So good for adding to a meal, topping on a jacket potato, scooping up with toast or eating on their own.

Frozen Peas - Ah, peas! The bag is good for helping nurse bumped heads and the peas are tasty additions to meals.  Match them with mashed spuds, put them through cream cheese or add them to a pasta dish.  Add a little colour and get some goodness!

Source: BBC Good Food (www.bbcgoodfood.com)

Cornflour - Handy as a thickener for macaroni and excellent to use in recipes like this Fatless Sponge

Tomato Puree/Chopped Tomatoes - Handy for curries, stews, sauces - puree is a must for beefing up the flavour.  Check out these ideas for what else you can do with Tomato Puree.

Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/add1sun/4183640700/

Hot Sauce - Serious Eats lists 25 things you can do with Hot Sauce right here. It's so versatile.  I realise hot stuff in't everyone's thing, but it can add some serious flavour to a jacket potato and cheese, pasta dishes or, well, anything really!

Vegetable Stock - Needed for all things stew, soup, curry and can perk up rice and cous cous no end.  Here I am recommending www.feastie.com where you can find recipes based on what you have in your cupboard.  Here's their list of recipes you can make with veggie stock!

Pasta - I find it's always prudent to have a very large bag of pasta in the cupboard at all times.  Maybe this is just a lean back to my student days, but I can do a lot of stuff with pasta!

Rice - Great as a main meal or a side. Risotto is my favourite go-to.  It's filling, tasty and you can add pretty much any veg to it too! Check out my recipe for Comfort Risotto here.

Easy Bake Yeast - Pizza dough, bread...yeast is so handy for making a tasty carby meal.  It's funny, I always surprise myself by how often I find it useful.

Butternut Squash - I buy a Butternut Squash and it can sit there for ages!  They keep really well, they are so versatile and can be used in so many ways. Why not try my Butternut Squash Pie recipe here?

Onions - Onions are the base of most stews, soups, curries etc.  It's always a good idea to have some on standby!

Of course, these are just a few things you can have on standby and different people like different things,but these are the things that I always try to keep handy.

What do you always have ready to go?

Do you have any go-to fail-safe recipe?  I'd love to hear what you prepare when times are tough!

Safety Nets

It's that time of the month again.

Over a week until pay day and we are wondering what in the heck we are going to do.  We will manage.  We will cope.

But it all comes with a lot of jumping through hoops and a lot of thinking outside of the box.

At this moment in time I am considering my options; I'm mentally going through everything in my head - what we need to have and how much money we will need in order to get to the finish line.  What we have to sell which might be able to tide us over.

Our safety nets.

We've been going through our safety nets a lot quicker recently.  It used to be that they were a last resort - we had too much, so we set things aside and never even thought about them.  Never even thought of them as saleable items, never even realised that we would be using them as resources.

Now I tally them mentally every month when yet another crises arises, when yet another bill rears it's ugly head.

Things are very tight, there's no doubt about it, but we are very good at strategising, very good at working out what we can live without.

We are lucky to have safety nets like this.  Not everyone does.

A lot of people get uncomfortable when they talk about money, about finances, about not having enough of it or having too much of it.  Nobody likes to discuss their own personal situation, unless it's in hindsight or with a close personal friend.

Money is life's great equalizer, the great judge who deems whether we eat or heat, the one who separates the have from the have nots and divides and rules.

Our dealings with it, be it the debt we owe or the millions we have stashed away are whispered, like a huge dirty secret.

It's a strange old thing.

The concept gets weirder, the more you think about it.

Why do I document this?  Why do I write this down? Surely I should be quiet and get on with it like everyone else?

For the future, I suppose.  So we can record what it is like now and hope that one day we will look back at it and know that we got through it.  To laugh at the crazy things we got up to later on.  To hopefully remind myself in the future to build more safety nets.

And to teach my children that they can build them too.  And to be grateful for each and every one.

Wherever I Lay My Head, That's My Home: House Renting

Maybe we just did life all wrong...

This is my thought for the day as I look through yet another property catalogue, breezing through the pages at more houses we are never going to buy.

Well, maybe we did.

At 23 and 22, we had our kids comparatively young, we both left home young at 17 years old, and funnily enough, the graduate employers who we were told would be battering down our door to offer us graduate placements after completing our humanities degrees, on all-singing, all-dancing graduate schemes seemed to have missed our graduate announcements.

Maybe life did a number on us?

Returning home from visiting a mortgage broker this recently, we had renewed hope in our eyes.

Well, kind of.

We know that the ability to buy our own home isn't completely out-of-the-park unrealistic, it's just that, well, let's just say it's not going to be happen any time soon.

Unless, you know, we win the lottery.  Or we discover that we have a long lost rich relative  who dies suddenly, inexplicably leaving all of their fortune to us.

It was a slightly scary affair.  I'd made the enquiry a week earlier, and before I knew it, a man had phoned me, asked me to look out all of my grown-up paperwork (bank statements, pay slips, National Insurance numbers) and meet for a two hour appointment.

It was all very official.

I still don't feel old enough to be allowed a mortgage.  As someone who, at nearly 30 years old, is still getting I.D'd at the corner shop for beer, I have a hard time feeling like a grown up sometimes.

And little wonder.  Our generation have not been allowed to grow up.

A few of my friends have managed to buy their own homes, but it must be said, a lot of them have had help to do so - parents willing to let them live at home, pay student expenses while at university, gifting that first ever-elusive deposit for a property.  Very few have managed alone.  And a lot of those who have, don't have children.

Thanks to the recession in 2008, the year Thomas was born, and coincidentally, also the year I graduated, jobs became like gold dust.  The kind of jobs that folk with degrees had been doing, kind of disappeared, as graduate schemes disappeared, job positions vanished and suddenly, we weren't only competing with the other saps who graduated at the same time as us, but also a lot of very qualified and very experienced people who had lost their long-term jobs.

The market was fierce.

By the time Dave graduated in 2009, we had one child, one full-time student job and a lot of rent to pay.

Since 2008 our small family has moved house six times - the same age as our oldest son will be in October this year.

I am on my 15th house move in the 30 years that I have been alive.

I am very used to a life of unsettlement - yet something I crave more than anything else, is to be settled in a home I can call my own.

But while I am very used to it - to packing up boxes, to the ins and outs of renting and looking and landlords and letting agents - I have to confess, it is really not something that I am keen for my own children to experience.

However, that seems to be the world that we live in today.  With the average age of home ownership in the UK being 38 years old, the 'home' is no longer someone's castle, but rather an expensive and stressful experience where we are not allowed to decorate or get too comfy.

There are positives and negatives to renting.  There's a positive in that you get to try out lots of different places and areas to live.  If you don't like where you live, then you can move on after a relatively short amount of time, and you don't have the responsibilities that come with home ownership, such as roof repairs, boiler replacement or clearing the gutters.

But man, what I wouldn't give just to be able to plan more than a year ahead at a time.

This year I feel we have reached our limit in terms of house move.  Having moved slightly further away than we would have liked, to a town outside the catchment area for the school which Thomas attends, we stand little chance of Ethan getting into the same school. He goes to a school in a very good area, which is so over-subscribed that they have had to add whole classes to each year group.  It's also the area with the highest rental prices in our city - almost double of what we currently pay for a similar sized property, simply based on the 'quality' of the area.  Not to mention the higher council tax rates.

We will be faced with a dilemma by the end of the year; move closer to the school and try to hash it out in an area where rents are a lot higher than we can realistically afford, or stay where we are and try to build a life, in the hope that if for some reason we can't stay in the house we are in, that we can easily find one of a similar size and price in the vicinity.

It's a tough call.

Of course, another option is to move away completely, to start again in a new area completely, one where we can afford to live and where it won't be such an issue to move if we have to.  Which opens us up to yet more things like area, neighbours, costs, letting agents, landlords, costs of moving, moving schools, upsetting the kids again etc etc...

It's certainly not easy.

But we're in no way alone.

Feeling quite despondent one morning, I typed out a couple of lines on Twitter: 'Do any of you rent your house?  How do you get on?'

The feedback was amazing.

There are so many people out there in letting hell, and it is so very clear to see that things need to be simpler.  From one lady whose brother had accepted a house 8 weeks previously and still had to get a moving date settled, to the lady who had had really awful financial problems with her landlord, it is obvious that renting, although a reality for millions, is not an easy process.

It is indeed not a choice for many; I would say that the vast majority of us simply want to settle in an ideal place, decorate it as we wish and be in control of if and when we move to the next location.  But life is not that simple.

I received some really heartfelt emails from all over the world about rental cultures similar to ours up here in Scotland and the same issues translate across the board; and it seems to be intensified when you have children, especially small children.  There's such a strong sense that all you want for your children is that they should have a 'home' rather than just a house.

One lovely lady wrote of her experience:

'I didn’t mind renting at all. We don’t know where we want to lay our roots down yet, so we felt like this was a good choice for now. However, my feelings changed a lot when my son was born. I started to feel more and more like my house wasn’t really my house. Someone else owned it, and guess what? He could potentially come over anytime he wanted. He’s a professional and nice landlord, but occasionally he would (unknowingly!) come over when the baby was sleeping or I was trying to take a very-necessary-new-mom-nap.

I also didn’t like the idea that any decoration or design I put into the house wouldn’t be here forever. I started to get very, “what’s the point?” about decorating the house. I didn’t like that feeling. I want my son to grow up in a house full of art and beauty! It’s also hard raising a kid in a house when you feel like someone is always watching over you. Our landlord comes by a lot, and reminds us to water the plants, and empty the dehumidifier; it sort of makes me feel like a kid again, and I don’t like that!'

She then went on to say:

'However, the house is our home for now, and it’s the only home my son knows. I have decorated his room, and his toys are scattered throughout. We run around the backyard and take walks around our neighborhood. I have to remember that just because we are renting, it doesn’t mean I can’t love my house (which I do), or make this house a home (I’m trying!). I really did not expect my feelings to change so much when my son was born, but I guess it’s that mama bear instinct kicking in. I want my son to know he’s safe and comfy wherever he is, but I also have to remember that wherever his mom and dad are, is home to him.'

It's something Dave says to me time and time again - usually when I'm fretting over our latest house-move and the impact that it will have on everyone, yet again; 'They won't care where they are, as long as we are there with them. Wherever we are, as long as we are all together - it doesn't matter'

My worries travel with me all the time, and they range from totally crazy, to a bit scary really.  Things like:

• What if I can't find a house where my lovely new couches (that I just nearly finished paying off!) will fit? (It's so important for me to have my own things)
• What if we have another child - where will he/she fit?
• Will Ethan get into the school Tom is at?
• Will we end up moving somewhere else completely?
• Will the next place accept our elderly dog?
• Will we ever have a garden?
• Should we move out of this town completely?
• What if we can't afford to run a car any more?
• What if we get turfed out and have to find somewhere quickly?
• What about nightmare neighbours?
• Where the hell is our Xmas tree going to be put up next year? (every time I take the xmas tree down - that tree must think it's on some kind of magical mystery tour. Every time the box opens, it's somewhere new!)
• What happens if one of us gets ill and can't work?
• Will the boys always have to share a room?
• What if we don't get our deposit back?
• What if we end up with a crazy, horrible landlord?
• Storage space, storage space, storage space...

Where will we be hanging our stockings next year?

We had a shot at being settled, but we couldn't take it.  The house belonged to Dave's dad and there were far too many complicated issues surrounding it.  Sometimes the whole family thing is too difficult - it caused a lot of tension and a lot of friction.  We were extremely unhappy; the house had some issues, stuff happened and we had to move.  I'd never wanted to move there; I knew about these things before we did, but I was in a bad place when we moved and by default we ended up giving up a house that we absolutely loved. It caused problems between us and the overall stability of our family unit was threatened; it came to the point where we knew what we had to do. We had to get out of there.

The man at the mortgage shop basically told us we had about seven years to wait until we could buy a house.

 SEVEN YEARS.

Seven years, if nothing financial went wrong, and if suddenly our debts disappeared overnight.

He offered us life insurance, to which we shrugged and said we'd think about it, he showed us a list of houses we could buy with a mortgage if we could in any way, shape or form get one now, and it choked me up.

We have no problem paying a shit-ton of money in rent every month, but no broker will take that as a guarantee that a mortgage would be paid.  And so we remain in eternal house-renting-limbo.

Maybe we did life all wrong...

 Well, we probably did.  But that doesn't make it fair.

Tonight I wandered into the kitchen, head in hands, after yet another conversation with a friend about whether we are going to have to move again or not.

'Where are we going to end up?' I sighed.

Dave grabbed me by the shoulders, and in his ever-loving manner, pulled me close and said:

 'Happy.  We'll end up happy.  Don't you worry about that.  Wherever we go, as long as we are together, we'll be happy'

Starting School Essentials

Got a wee one about to start school?  Here's a heads up on what you are going to need...

1. The Pencil Case

This is actually my own pencil case.  Too cool for school!

The pencil case is kind of a big deal.  In the sea of uniforms and matching gym bags, the pencil case is the one piece of kit which, placed on your desk, is the symbol of you.  When I was wee, a lot of though went into the pencil case and what to put in it.  In the first year however, it's not so much about personality and being equipped as a kind of right of passage into school-child times.

What I discovered was, that Tom rarely needed his pencil case in Primary 1.  School provided a pot of pencils for him, as well as rubbers, coloured pencils and sharpeners.  So it wouldn't have been a big deal if he hadn't had one - he didn't get homework until just before the Christmas holidays!

What he really appreciated was the special trip he and Granny took to get his special pencil case for his special first day at school.

It's all about preparation.  And the pencil case is a huge part of that.  The pencil case is one of the symbols of growing up, in this respect.

2. The Lunch Box

My own lunch box at school was very 80's - pink and covered in My Little Pony, and impossible to get open.  It was also extremely sturdy and big enough to fit everything - including a drink - in.  Which is all you are looking for in a lunch box.

If your new school is anything like our school, they will be promoting healthy eating, and are also on a course to make you very aware of what your kid does or does not eat from the various goodies you send.  A good lunch box for P1 will be:

• Wipe clean - you have no idea how many messy crisps and juice and yoghurt can get inside a box which spends all day getting thrown around!
• Sturdy - you need to be able to keep food intact until it gets eaten
• Easy to open and close - it saves a lot of worry and frustration on your child's part
• Big enough for everything to be inside - Tom couldn't always fit his drink in his and went thirsty all day once because he forgot to pick up his juice and was too shy to say to his teacher!

3. The Coat

Bear rocks the cheap version of the school coat, which is much preferable to the goddamn school coat.

We had to buy a goddamn school coat.  I hated the goddamn school coat.  Initially it looked like a good buy - waterproof, fleece lined and not too expensive.  But everyone else in P1 bought the goddamn coat too.  Which proved to be a bit of a nightmare.

The amount of times we ended up coming home with someone else's coat, or no coat at all because someone had gone home with Tom's coat was just ridiculous.  No amount of name tagging could have stopped it either - I had name tags all over that goddamn coat and the little children never really took the time to read. As you do.

Do yourselves a favour - don't buy the goddamn school coat.  Buy a school coat by all means - but make sure it is something fit for purpose (waterproof, a bit cosy, neat), but keep it cheap.  And don't let it be a coat which you will worry about getting dirty either - the amount of times it will end up in the washing machine in a week...ahrgh...don't get me started...!

4. Naming Stuff

Ah yes.  Definitely remember to stock up on lots of labels with your child's name on, or alternately, a really good labelling pen.  If you are anything like me, you will pat yourself on the back for getting a shed-ton of embroidered labels and spend a lot of time lovingly sewing them into various items of school clothing.

For about an hour.

Then you will begin to realise that name labels are actually a bit of a pain in the ass, and although they do mean that your kid can always read his or her name on their stuff very clearly, they are taking a crazy amount of time to sew on.

Invest in some iron-on labels and a Sharpie - much less time-consuming and definitely easier.  Especially when you get to the stage where you realise you missed that all-important expensive school jumper, or gym shoes.

5. Extra Gym Shoes, Needle and Thread, Hemming Tape...

Yep - who knew?  Extra gym shoes is something I would recommend.  Tom attends after school club, where he needs gym shoes to be able to attend games in the gym hall.  But he is not allowed to take the ones from his gym bag.  He has also attended various extra activities where he requires gym shoes to participate, but again, for some unknown reason, is not allowed to get the ones he already keeps at school.

Weird.

Needle and thread are a must - buttons that pop off, ripped tie hems, holes in schoolbags - I would just add late-night sleep-deprived sewing to your new list of skills.

And hemming tape.  Where would I be without hemming tape?  In late-night sewing hell I tell you!  It lifts hems, it seals holes in knees, it sorts out odd flaps of fabric on the bottom of trousers.  It's actual magic on a roll!

6. The Water Bottle

OOh!  Flashy!

The kids at Tom's school are actively encouraged to take in their own water bottle.  Tom is terrible at remembering to drink throughout the day, so this is actually a pretty good thing - if his peers are doing it, he is doing it too, and that is all kinds of good.

We got Tom a bottle with his name already on it, which is a great idea.  His teacher allows them to fill it from the water fountain.  And it looks super cool too.

7. The Bag

I am Iron Man!

Ah, the school bag!  The school note delivery system from hell!  Every damn day, I open the mystical portal to yet another note from the school gods, proclaiming yet another crazy fun day or reason to hand in yet more money I don't have for things which make no sense...grumble...

The bag should be small enough for a wee person to carry without it dragging on the ground when they walk, but big enough to fit a jumper, homework folder, water bottle and pencil case in. And a post bag full of mail.

Okay, I joke about the mail.

Kind of.

Do get one big enough though, or school will do untold things with otherwise clean jumpers involving dirty lunchboxes full of rubbish, which will just make you scream at the end of yet another long day.

8. Envelopes

Maybe open a seperate bank account for mystical school stuff that appears for seemingly no discernible reason.

Nobody told me about the sheer amount of admin that comes with having a kid at school.  Seriously - I could and should, have a job in admin after the amount I get through in a week.  There is always a form to fill out, a task to complete, a gymnastics class to pay for or another round of lunch money to send in.  Envelopes are very, VERY important.

9. The Noticeboard and calendar

No, i can't explain the comedy note on my board.  It makes me laugh though!

You will not believe the amount of stuff you will have to remember - so a decent organisation system is definitely something to invest in.  We are a bit old school in this house, and really love  good old-fashioned calendar and noticeboard.  It's so easy to forget what's on, or forget to even note it on the calendar, so *whoosh*, up it goes on the noticeboard until we get a chance to work it all out.  There's always crazy stuff, like special jumper day, show and tell, inset days and parents-jumping-through-endless-hoops-for-no-apparent-reason days; but please keep a note of them.  They might seem crazy and unimportant to you, but to your child, they are super important.

10. A Sense Of Humour

School is great, it really is.  But there will be a point where the teacher demands that your child must donate something to the school beginning with the letter C (actually happened!), your son will end up in the medical room more times in a week than he does in the actual classroom (clumsy bugger that he is) and yes, the jumper will come home in a lunchbox full of mashed up crisps and yoghurt.  If it comes home at all.

You will have to sit through some pretty awful school performances (in order to see the back of your own child's head behind all of the pushy parents with the super-expensive cameras) and you will find yourself marching into the school office with the forgotten lunch box for the third time in a week.

Just make sure you're not the parent who forgets that it's non-uniform day.

(ssssshhhhhh!  That was totally not me.  Maybe.)

Paper Clouds Apparel

Have you heard about the amazing work that Paper Clouds Apparel do in America?

It's such an amazing idea that I need to share with you all.

Not only do they sell some pretty cool tee shirts BUT they employ artists with special needs to create the art that goes on them.  Check it out HERE


Here's a little bit about the work that Paper Clouds do:


OUR PURPOSE: Paper Clouds Apparel was formed to showcase the creative minds and artistic abilities of individuals with special needs while raising funds to provide financial support for special needs schools and organizations. We achieve this goal by selling t-shirts, hats and totes featuring artwork designed by individuals with special needs. Paper Clouds Apparel also hires individuals with special needs to package all of our sensory-friendly clothing. Fifty percent of the net proceeds from the sale of all merchandise is given to the cause we are promoting in each campaign.

Paper Clouds Apparel also use the creation of said designs to employ these very creative folk and give them some kind of revenue, which they may otherwise struggle to earn due to their particular limitations, whether that is Apraxia, learning difficulties or anything else which they struggle with.

I don't know if any of you follow The Crumb Diaries, but if not, you should!  You will be blown away by Logan and his whole family's general awesomeness.

Logan is a remarkably funny and lovely young man who has Apraxia and some other un-diagnosable learning difficulties.  I've been following his journey for a couple of years now and there's never been a day where his mom, Al hasn't made me giggle through her warm, funny and sincere observations of life with Logan, who is your typical teenage boy.  She is a very smart and savvy lady, who is well aware of the difficulties Logan faces not only in his day to day life, but those that challenge him in the future also.

She has documented her life with Logan so honestly - and we have followed them through everything: her hopes, fears and most recently, Logan's graduation, and Prom, where he went on a date (swit swoo!) and donned his cap with the rest of his class, who gave him a standing ovation!

I'm sure everyone who reads her posts on Facebook cheers along with her - 'Challenged, NOT limited!'  Follow her on Facebook HERE

Everyone should have an Al in their corner!

And I am sure, as every Mum knows, a mum needs folk in her corner too - and Paper Clouds are doing just that for Logan.

They are giving him part ownership in the company where he will carry on designing tee shirts for them!  Amazing!  How awesome for Logan, having just been offered a job after graduating high school. A job which challenges him and pays him money!  And that he has a say in!  And they are offering double ownership if we can get their Facebook likes to 50000, so get Liking Here!


What an amazing initiative.  It would be amazing to see something similar in the UK which gives people with special needs the ability to work like this.