Of sneezes, wheezes, wine & dining… And a lot of mess.

It’s been a funny old fortnight… Highs and lows. The highs being good feedback at parents evening *beams* and a marvellous night out, with great people, at a school fundraising evening. There was curry, wine and a quiz, such fun. The lows being a week spent fighting a very nasty flu like virus, fortunately just me (so far)! Another low is the ongoing battle against the sprawl of mess.

I’m one of life’s bohemians, (apparently) with an ‘artistic temperament’ I have a very relaxed attitude to most things… I don’t follow fashion; can’t be bothered mostly but I’m not good at following the herd. I don’t alway spot the social/political nuances of life, you can call a spade whatever you like, it digs stuff… I see everyone as humans rather than their position, job or origins, after all, everyone has their worth and we all s**t. I’m a bit lacksidaisical about keeping my world organised to say the least (personally I put that down to having very little brain, a bit like pooh bear…) I’m also easily distracted…

Oh! Shiny!!!!

Where was I…

Yes, the mess…

I do struggle to keep my house in order, Ive always been proudly “not a domestic goddess”. I’m hopeless at tidy, oblivious to dust, every flat surface requires clutter and not in a good way. Why should I cook and clear up when I can clear up tomorrow, or the next day…. Maybe.

The inner conflict I’m facing now is many fold. Firstly, how does a naturally untidy person encourage her children to keep their toys tidy? I’ve tried asking them to at least keep the floor clear for emergencies, we have threatened to throw it all out in bin bags. Today I resorted to offering money, I thought this was working until just now when I realised they are playing, not tiding. Hmmmmm….

Which comes to the second issue. It’s probably old age (rolls eyes) but I’m starting to find the clutter hard to live with… This. Is. A. Disaster.

The biggest turmoil I have, is dealing with the fact that everyone else’s mess, care, living space, order etc is my world. Himself and I agree that it’s best for the small people if I am available to them 24 hours a day… And I generally am (unless rare socialising is undertaken for my sanity.) I’m not saying he doesn’t get to be at their beck and call too, he does! But it’s my general feeling that the day to day mess and muck-shovelling of running the house should fall upon me as the stay-at-home-mum. This is where I run around frantically, melodramatically pulling on my hair, shouting “I fail! I fail!!”
Of course I’m not doing that at all, I’m sitting on my bed, calmly, blogging on my iPhone rather than washing up the lunch things or tackling the ironing mountain.

*sigh*

Of course, as ever, the only point to this blogging thing is to get the mess out of my head so I can laugh at myself tomorrow. It works generally…. It’s a shame I can’t blog the mess out of my house!

And now I’m done, I’m going to bash some pans in the kitchen and look efficient. While I’m doing that I shall chuckle aloud at the fact that if my step mother ever reads this she would be muttering about ‘comeuppance’ and the odd ‘I told you so’ and probably giggling….

Buzzzzy!

When my crochet teacher Ali asked me why I wanted to learn to crochet my answer was two fold (although I ramble rather, so here’s the potted answer) Firstly, it’s always annoyed me that I couldn’t. People say it’s easier than knitting but picking up a crochet book and trying to work through the diagrams is a nightmare… Secondly, I wanted to make things. Toys mostly but blankets and hats, scarves and other things. Things that can travel to the caravan for crafting in the evenings, perhaps something to pop on a table at school fates to see if anyone is gullible erm lovely enough to buy them…

Crochet has more than lived up to my expectation. It’s fun and can be quick to produce something, like my first toy project!

A bee! Surprise surprise! I’m very pleased with it *grins* many more to come I hope!

Moving On

2012… Is it done yet? I’ve had enough of it….

For me personally, this year has been without growth, I’ve taken many backward steps. It’s been rocky and those rocks are precipices through my soul and mind. I’m so lucky I have the support of my husband, a doctor who is fairly human and empathetic, the sensible guidance of friends and the devoted love of my children because I’ve flailed about so much in this ill wind called life this year that, without them I would have been lost.

Anyways, in true me fashion I’m very pleased that I can now see the forest for the trees, think a little bit more clearly, look forward to 2013 and move on… I’m trying to see 2012 with a positive light, good stuff did happened I just haven’t had a brain to share it!

10 of ‘The Good Stuff’ (in no particular order)

1) We got a caravan! …and we all love it!

2) I grew a Pumpkin.

3) The little man finished nursery and went to school.

4) Himself became a bee keeper.

 

5) The small people started to play independently in the early hours of the weekend rather than requiring parental input

6) I realised a creative writing publishing ambition.

7) We had a lovely summer school holiday.

8) I’ve done their christmas shopping already!

9) I managed to do crochet (Thanks to @crochetali)

10) My sleep pattern is not so crazy mad!

 

I know there is more good stuff, much more to think about in quiet moments and smile about. Long summer days (yeah, it rained muchly) of playing. Escaping with a friend to chat and share life. Wine. More Wine….

So here’s to 2013 as it creeps up on us amid the nativity, carols, chocolate, baileys, crackers, turkey and the magic of Christmas. I’m looking forward to a fun packed, healthy, hearty, trouble free year with much laughter and maybe a bit more blogging? That would be a good thing, I think.

 

Pussycat pussycat, where have you been!!

You know those times when you know something just happened, feel it in your boots but without actually seeing proof you have to shrug and get on with life?

The school my daughter goes to is 5 minutes away by car. It’s a small village school, the parking is terrible. In the mornings they run a stop and drop so we don’t have to park, just drive up and the smalls get out and go in. They can do this in the evening so we park at the top of the hill and charge down a quiet lane to get to school. It’s really steep and has worked wonders on my glutes

Fellow Instgramers will know where I mean as I’ve taken many pictures on the school run.

Thursday night, collecting my girl, I parked up in the usual spot. Turning off the car I heard a funny noise. I was a little early so I was sitting fiddling with my phone as is my wont. I heard the noise again so I got out and looked under the car, nothing there! One of the other Mum’s asked me what I was doing so I explained “I thought I heard a cat, I must be going mad!” School pick up continued and when we got back up the lane there was no noise, no cat, nothing. We came home.

Later that evening my moggy, Pippa, came in soaking wet and fed up, she’s not keen on coming in but it’s been very wet. My husband and I shouted and shouted for our other cat Sophie but she didn’t come. She’s a creature of comfort and is usually in when it rain. Sophie also has a second home 4 doors up the road where she often spends the day curled up in their greenhouse; naturally we thought she must have found a warm spot and fallen asleep, she’s getting a bit scatty with age.

This morning it was pouring with rain, I mean sheets of the stuff, it did all night too. As Friday is not a Nursery day for my son, I let my daughter have the choice of stop and drop or parking and walking. She does like to be walked down to the classroom and taken in so even though we were going to get soaked we opted to park up and walk. I’m sure if you are a Mum doing a school run, you know how it goes.

1) Park Car

2) Wait for traffic to ebb to get out.

3) Get round to nearside then start yelling at the kids to “Unbuckle, get out, don’t forget your coat/bookbag/lunchbox, get a move on, don’t hit your sister, you can do your own zip” whatever…

At this point, although I was being really loud myself, I could here loud and sorrowful mews from the bushes at the side of the road. I called out “Sophie!” but there was no response, so I bustled the smalls off down the lane to school saying “We will have a proper look when we get back.”

On return to the car, my son said, “There’s something under the car Mummy!” and low and behold, the cat, our cat Sophie, stuck her very wet head out from under the car! She was really pleased to see us! I managed to scoop her up by her scruff (shes not that keen on being picked up) and we all got in the car.

She obviously knew she needed to behave because she sat next to my son on the back seat all the way home!

Daft Mog!

The trouble is I have no idea where she hid under the car to manage to ride so far relatively safely, shes completely unharmed. I really hope she doesn’t do it again!

Bluebell Wood

We are heading off on a round robin of visits this weekend, it occurred to me that I might just need to take my phone. Modern technology is so incredible isn’t it.

So, this is a bit of a test post and a bit of a ‘I love Bluebells post’.

Now I shall run off to the lap top and see if it works….

Narked Shopper…

I went shopping today.

Not an unusual occurrence you’d think.  We have a family party at the weekend and I’d like something new to wear… Trouble is, I have a deeply seated aversion shopping. I hate it. I especially hate it in the sales. Not for me the searching through racks for bargains, all shapes and colours bunched together tightly and mixed up, I shudder at the thought.  If I have to go shopping, I like it laid out neatly in size order, preferable colour coded too… And choice, I like choice.  Not much to ask is it?

Today was particularly bad because I wanted to replace a much loved sundress I’ve had for 2 years, it’s showing age, I should have guessed I was on a hiding to nothing really, can you ever replace a much loved item?I trundled off in my best underwear to the city…

I walked bloody miles…

It seems that this season, the fashion industry has decreed that I either get to wear dresses that just pass my bottom or I have to look like some 1970′s frump in a maxi dress that even in heels I risk tripping over (yes, I’m a short arse). I’m also supposed to look like a ’70′s frump in brown, navy or some garish tropical print that I wouldn’t even wear on holiday….

*sigh*

In fact, most of the shops I have come to rely on having reasonable choice. for many tastes, just seemed to be sparsely filled with cheaply made rubbish, is this a knock on effect of the recession? Money isn’t being spent by the consumer so the shops have to buy cheaper stock, which people don’t like and don’t buy… Terrible downward spiral

I also needed to buy my daughter a pretty cardi. Every shop is filled to the brim with pretty t’shirts, shorts and sundresses. No jumpers or cardi’s to be seen anywhere. Erm This is Britain people. It rains here and not just on Wednesdays!!!

So I came home empty handed (again) and now face the dilemma of where to go tomorrow because I still need something to wear… Usually I love the fact I live in the middle of nowhere, today I’m resentful of the fact I need to drive for an hour to find decent shops, cost of fuel and all that  (It’s okay, I’m not intelligent enough to be a political blogger, I will leave that gem to them.).

I know this isn’t really the fault of the fashion industry but it’s them I’m narked with, so it is now…

The One Where I Cast Out The Bloggyblock Demons and Talk Teeth.

I have blogged a grand total of 7 times this year. It’s April, this is unheard of. I’ve made every excuse under the sun. I’ve been busy, scribbling ditties elsewhere, doing stuff, being other places; but the hard truth is I’ve been blog blocked. I’ve had something to write about that has been burning me up inside but I couldn’t. I’ve felt guilty, I’ve felt failure and I’ve felt shame.  Time has passed and slowly, the stress has ebbed away and I’ve been able to talk to specialists and other people about it. I’ve discovered it wasn’t my fault, I’m not to blame, I did nothing wrong that hundreds of parents aren’t doing right now but the guilt and shame burn.

Someone new told me they were reading my blog this week and I wondered why they were bothering, I mean, I haven’t been here for months! So I came and looked at my stats and the posts people are reading. I was astounded. People still come to this little corner of the internets and read my shit every day! My stats are nothing to write home about in the scheme of things and as I don’t interact with the ‘Mummy blogging’ world very often, I don’t suppose my readership is ever the same person twice but someone comes…

I was touched, really… and I thought to myself, why are you not blogging? My answer again was, I’m blog blocked, unless I get this shame off my chest and out there I may never blog again. So I’m going to do it. Don’t judge me too harshly, I never saw this one coming and I honestly wonder if you have either…

My daughter is an angel, yes, so she has her moments but as a parent I really ‘don’t know she’s born’ as they say. People point out this is to my credit, I’ve worked reasonably hard (without getting all stage Mum) at this parent malarkey for 5 & half years and she is a darling (I’m biased I know). I love her unreservedly as any mother should and I always try to do what is best for them, I guess this is why this whole teeth thing bites so hard.

Last September we visited the dentist, just as school was starting, the dentist advised me that my girl had a tiny cavity in one of her back molars and to take care of it. Anyone who knows my personal hygiene routine will know that I’m obsessive about teeth brushing.  After enduring two sets of orthodontics and having to still wear a retainer at night (attractive fact about me not many people know ) I am almost OCD about caring for my teeth, I brush, floss and mouthwash at least twice a day, I only have one filling (last month) and still have 2 baby teeth.  Installing a good dental hygiene routine in my smalls has been very high on the agenda.  So I was horrified she had a cavity! They rarely have sweets, fizzy drinks are far and few in between and never coke. No added sugar anything really.

At the same time as this School were hammering her with healthy eating, no chocolate (rightly so) in the lunch box, I even wrote a post about it, so thinking I was doing the right thing I started buying those rather cool fruit smoothie drinks, you know, the ones everyone loves (and me, it has to be said) with the rather brilliant fridge magnets, you know, the ‘really good for them’ ones with the ‘part of your 5′ a day tag. Healthy stuff that. I’m a good Mum I am *hangs head in shame* It’s not just those, she has always been a fruit magnet and would still prefer a bowl of grapes to jelly and ice cream and good on her!

Most children would have been fine, my son got the same, he’s fine. I drink it all the time, I’m fine.

Not so my little Angel, she has very weak teeth enamel and her teeth disintegrated. Well two of them did, her top ‘D’s. Ironically not the tooth we had been warned about. Food started getting trapped in the cavities and she started feeling pain. Pain that I helped create. It took 4 months for this to become a very painful problem.

I know you are probably sitting there thinking I’m being melodramatic about this. I can’t stress to you enough how guilty I feel about my baby feeling this pain, having to go through having the remains of the teeth removed under anesthetic. If I was to explain to you graphically what it feels like to hold your child’s hand as they go under anesthetic, to hand them over to other people to put right something you helped go wrong. I’d never be able to capture the feeling in words.  I can’t explain with enough forcefulness how terrible this made me feel, I’m supposed to keep her safe and look after her. Yes, I’m whipping myself. I think I deserve it, though I am coming to terms with it.

Every single dentistry professional has shaken their head and said, fruit is a real danger to enamel. As we parents are encouraged to make our kids eat their 5 a day to be ‘healthy’. My daughters reception class gets free fruit for snack, I’m sure I’m not the only parent who has over looked the acidity issue, the possible damage it can cause.  Yes, of course they have to eat fruit! I’m not saying stop but did you know that a simple swish around the mouth with water can significantly reduce the acid, thus reducing the risk? I didn’t know that. Perhaps I’m naive.

My little girl is a trouper, she has come through this amazingly, she screamed for 30 minutes after she came around, mostly because she was scared and then she wanted to go to the park.

Slowly, I’ve been pulling back the pieces of my smashed up stress head. I know I’ve been intolerable to be around and I’ve lost a few friends in the process due to being at the end of my tolerance.  I’ve opened up to a few people and I’ve been astounded by how many of them have said they have been through this with their children, or been through it themselves. People who I know look after their children extremely well.  I’m believing again that perhaps I do okay at this Mum thing and getting this out into the blog is a major step forward in being able to take ownership of my feelings. I don’t suppose it will ever go away… Not completely, but then I’m a mother and this comes with the territory.

If just one person reads this and thinks, I need to be aware that fruit, whilst an excellent healthy choice, needs consideration, I will be thrilled.

This was a hard post to write, the fact that I have written it is a leap forward for me. I hope to be here more often.

Little boxes…

I am an appalling blogger…  I think to myself, one post a week, how hard can that be? Honestly, how hard can that be! and I sit here in front of the screen and make that ‘uugggghhhheeeegggg’ noise as my brain empties all over the floor, (it’s quite cathartic actually, perhaps I should try to blog before sleeping #insomniac!) and I can think of nothing… So I go to (one of my many) tumblr(s) instead or think of different things more suited to how my brain is working at the time… Then in the shower today it dawned on me that this is my issue, I am a box person and that is just how I work.

My head is full of little boxes.

I compartmentalise, it’s a coping strategy developed from an early age. It works like this.

Wake up – Mummy mode

School run – Shouty mummy mode

9am – 2pm – Adult Female Mode

2pm – 3pm – Panic housekeeping mode due to slacking off in Adult Female Mode

3pm – 7pm Mummy Mode, may include shouty mummy mode

7pm – bedtime Wife mode

etc…

of course each mode contains many many finer distinctions. I like things separate in boxes, this is the family blog, I tried fictional writing here, didn’t work so that is elsewhere, I had to put my resolutions elsewhere too so I could think about them separately. (Yes Jenny, I will get back on track with that shortly, I know, slacker right!)  You only have to look at my tumblr to see how it works, 10 on one feed because they can’t all go on the same one, that would be messy, I need themes…

Little boxes…

I bet you are wondering where I’m going with this? The simple answer is I don’t know. It’s a cotton wool thought from a cotton wool brain, I vent and then I’m happier. Blogging does not need to be all constructive useful postings of the informative variety, well, not on this blog anyway!

I do wonder if this prevents people from seeing the whole picture, the actual Julie beneath the boxes. It’s got to be a bit psychotic in a OCD sort of way and perhaps the whole me would be a happier individual. I’m not sure I will ever know the answer to that.  I also refuse to believe I’m the only person who does this!

I am a real woman.

Curvy women are real women. Skinny women are real women. Women who have had boob jobs or lip enhancements or liposuction are still real women. Size 0 may make no sense mathematically, but a woman who wears that size is as real as the one who wears a size 16. What makes us “real” people is not the shape of our flesh but our basic humanity. And we lose our humanity when we judge – not when we lose weight, gain weight, or make the intensely personal decision to undergo cosmetic surgery.
Hugo Schwyzer

I found this little quote today in my  tumblr feed, I have no idea who Mr.Schwyzer is, perhaps I should google him, but how much sense does he make? I feel like standing up and shouting AMEN! because this quote speaks volumes to me…

Life these days is fast, it’s pressured, we live it at the end of our tethers. I know that these days, the age I am (41) I can sit back in my little rural idyll where the only rush rush is the school run and getting to the many appointments I seem to have on time. In my 20′s it was all about looking good, being fashionable, following the crowd. 30′s were harder still, keep looking young, being active, having a career.  40, to be honest has been a great release to me, apart from feeling the need to loose a few pounds because I feel happier slightly lighter, I feel less pressure to dazzle and amaze and can say f*ck off to fashion should I choose but it’s still always around me, the pressure….

Don’t let yourself go, get a haircut, waxing is best, wear makeup, new clothes.

It’s everywhere you look, TV, magazines, newspapers, off hand comments…
This week I read a rather damning piece of opinion on twitter about women’s anatomy and it annoyed me. This supposedly off hand, supposedly humorous comment is the type of thing that adds to the pressure women feel under, it undermines our self esteem, which can often be fragile enough as it is when we are constantly being told we are too big, need to be sexy, in control… I pointed out to the gentleman in question the insensitivity of his remark and all I got in return was a rant about how I had taken his tweet far too seriously and it wasn’t his fault I had a complex about my anatomy.  I found this extremely upsetting and as the gentleman feels he has nothing to apologize to me for; not his remark or that fact he seriously upset me (I don’t upset easily) I unfollowed him, I lost a friend but frankly I don’t need friends who don’t care if they upset me…

So, yes Mr.Schwyzer, I vote for humanity, I need friends who can see past my packaging to the interesting, intelligent, warm, human person that I am and if you think women should be judged on how fat, thin, big boobed or ugly they are, keep it to yourself.

Ice ice baby

My son came home from nursery yesterday demanding ice to play with, I’m such a soft touch I let him make some and add some food colouring. His hands are going to be disgusting but he’s having a lovely time!