Pregnancy hormones have acted as some kind of inhibiter in my brain. I am convinced I’m super woman. Yesterday I decided to get out the Christmas decorations so I could make sure we don’t need anything else and put them up today with all the kids (don’t complain, it’s the 1st of December tomorrow, its nearly Christmas, get over it). I could tell that asking my husband to go into the shed and get them would be like asking the Pope to dance round a cauldron. So I did it myself.
I got into the shed and moved all the boxes and paint tins and chairs and buggies. I got the 6ft tree and various bags of decorations and hauled them all out, of course they were right at the back. I then sorted out the shed, put things neatly away and created a bit more space.
After I’d got all the decorations in I got them all out onto the table and sorted them out. They are now all ready to be put up. I love Christmas, even though I don’t celebrate the birth of Jesus. We have a lovely family celebration on the 21st of December for the Winter Solstice. I love decorating the house, making and sending cards, wrapping presents, watching old Christmas movies. I don’t understand why anyone, especially anyone with children, would get grumpy about a time that brings so much joy!
So there will be absolutely no bah-humbug-ing round me thank you.
28th November 2008
I went to the 20 week scan of bump today. It was really special and I enjoyed it immensely. I went with my mum and the two terror tots as darling husband was working. Things for my mum are going really well at the moment. She seems to have come out the other side of crisis mode and is very positive and decisive. She’s decided what she is doing with life and where she wants to be and now has a plan of action and is implementing it. I have to say I am impressed and very proud of how she’s doing. And as a result of her positivity we’re getting on really well.
Anyway the scan; To start with I went with the sonographer on my own, which I’ve never done before, I lay there in the darkened room watching the little squiggle inside my uterus wiggle around. As she checked for abnormalities I saw its growing brain, chunky legs, strongly beating heart, fingers, toes, mouth and button nose. Even though the screen is in black and white, fuzzy and sometimes looks like something from a bad 1950’s sci-fi, I feel an incredible connection to this little ball of squish.
I also found out what the baby will be, a monster or a Madame. Husband and I made a bet, he’s convinced I’m having a girl, I’m convinced it’s a boy. We bet £50 from our account to spend on anything the winner wants with no comments from the looser. This meant £50 of over the top stupid gadgets for him, and £50 of shoes for me. We were both pretty anxious to be correct!
I was right of course, we’re having another boy! I don’t know why he’d make a bet against me, I am of course, as a woman and a mother, always correct about everything.
So here is the little boy squish...
26th November 2008
I’ve found a brand new way to waste away countless hours on the computer. I’ve joined an ‘on-line community’. Its called Netmums and is;
A unique local network for Mums or Dads, offering a wealth of information on both a national and local level.
- apparently, according to its home page! For the last few weeks I’ve spent ages reading through advice on things, tips on unruly children, things to make with your kids and places to go. Then last week I ventured into the Forums. Wow, there are a lot of cyber mums out there! I initially started by looking at some of the things in the Post Natal Depression section, but that was far too depressing. Made me feel quite normal. Then I got some great tips and tricks from the Kitchen & Household boards. Which has actually really helped, people post all kinds of things, right down to what household chores do people do every day and every week. As we’ve all established I am right royally rubbish at housework, so knowing what other people do every day is great insight into what I should be doing and what people actually fill their days with!
Most recently I joined in with a thread for ladies who are having babies in April 2009... oh that includes me! It’s very strange but quite lovely. There are about 20 or so ladies who write every day. We have nothing in common except the fact we’re all pregnant. We share all sorts of things, everyday pregnancy niggles, opinions on breast feeding, the names we’re thinking of, what we’ve got up to each day. It’s fascinating! At the moment everyone’s having their 20 weeks scans and are either finding out what their having or not. It’s quite a strange experience, but quite interesting!
One thing I’ve discovered with all this forum malarkey is the phenomenon of tickers.
These are little boxes that people put on their signatures, mainly they count things! I have some, which basically say how old my children are and one which counts how pregnant I am, I’ll show you:
Now these I feel are sweet, in their own uniquely tacky way and I don't mind that. Some I have seen, however defiantly say something about the people posting them. I’ll give you some examples....
Ok so I apologise to anyone who currently uses any of these, but I just think their hilarious, it's like having a big sign saying "I have porcelain spaniels on my mantle piece and 5 gold earrings in each ear what I bought from Argos."
God bless them! Also some people post in 'text speak' which I have to say I really don't understand. If you're sitting at a computer with a full keyboard in front of you, why not type in full sentences with grammar and punctuation?! I mean in some areas of the UK I worry that the written word is dying out and being replaced with this drivel - as if your paying by the letter!
Sorry, I will not get started on a full scale rant regarding the misuse of the English language. L8r ppl lol!
A unique local network for Mums or Dads, offering a wealth of information on both a national and local level.
- apparently, according to its home page! For the last few weeks I’ve spent ages reading through advice on things, tips on unruly children, things to make with your kids and places to go. Then last week I ventured into the Forums. Wow, there are a lot of cyber mums out there! I initially started by looking at some of the things in the Post Natal Depression section, but that was far too depressing. Made me feel quite normal. Then I got some great tips and tricks from the Kitchen & Household boards. Which has actually really helped, people post all kinds of things, right down to what household chores do people do every day and every week. As we’ve all established I am right royally rubbish at housework, so knowing what other people do every day is great insight into what I should be doing and what people actually fill their days with!
Most recently I joined in with a thread for ladies who are having babies in April 2009... oh that includes me! It’s very strange but quite lovely. There are about 20 or so ladies who write every day. We have nothing in common except the fact we’re all pregnant. We share all sorts of things, everyday pregnancy niggles, opinions on breast feeding, the names we’re thinking of, what we’ve got up to each day. It’s fascinating! At the moment everyone’s having their 20 weeks scans and are either finding out what their having or not. It’s quite a strange experience, but quite interesting!
One thing I’ve discovered with all this forum malarkey is the phenomenon of tickers.
These are little boxes that people put on their signatures, mainly they count things! I have some, which basically say how old my children are and one which counts how pregnant I am, I’ll show you:
Now these I feel are sweet, in their own uniquely tacky way and I don't mind that. Some I have seen, however defiantly say something about the people posting them. I’ll give you some examples....
Ok so I apologise to anyone who currently uses any of these, but I just think their hilarious, it's like having a big sign saying "I have porcelain spaniels on my mantle piece and 5 gold earrings in each ear what I bought from Argos."
God bless them! Also some people post in 'text speak' which I have to say I really don't understand. If you're sitting at a computer with a full keyboard in front of you, why not type in full sentences with grammar and punctuation?! I mean in some areas of the UK I worry that the written word is dying out and being replaced with this drivel - as if your paying by the letter!
Sorry, I will not get started on a full scale rant regarding the misuse of the English language. L8r ppl lol!
18th November 2008
I’m so tired. No the word tired doesn’t cover it, I’m going to have to look it up in a thesaurus...
Ok; Exhausted, drained, all-in, fatigued – they describe it a little better. To those of you who are male, or have never had a baby, I will try to describe it;
Imagine you’re woken up in the middle of the night, say 3am after going to bed around 12. The person who wakes you up then tells you that you must run a half marathon, then work a full day. After that someone drains you of all white blood cells. Then I think you’d possibly feel this tired.
My bones tingle, I can’t concentrate, I’ve a headache at the front of my skull. And I’m winging again! Must stop that. I love being pregnant, the miracle of life, a brand new existence growing inside me. Yadda yadda yadda. But why does it have to make me feel so damn tired all the time??
I was going to write this long and insightful post about the fact I just watched the 1989 Steve Martin film Parenthood for the first time in 8 years. How I loved it more than I did then and find it really relevant to my life currently. But I can’t be bothered and I’m going to bed. Sorry.
Ok; Exhausted, drained, all-in, fatigued – they describe it a little better. To those of you who are male, or have never had a baby, I will try to describe it;
Imagine you’re woken up in the middle of the night, say 3am after going to bed around 12. The person who wakes you up then tells you that you must run a half marathon, then work a full day. After that someone drains you of all white blood cells. Then I think you’d possibly feel this tired.
My bones tingle, I can’t concentrate, I’ve a headache at the front of my skull. And I’m winging again! Must stop that. I love being pregnant, the miracle of life, a brand new existence growing inside me. Yadda yadda yadda. But why does it have to make me feel so damn tired all the time??
I was going to write this long and insightful post about the fact I just watched the 1989 Steve Martin film Parenthood for the first time in 8 years. How I loved it more than I did then and find it really relevant to my life currently. But I can’t be bothered and I’m going to bed. Sorry.
Just remembered....
Pictures entered in the photographer of the year competition.
Round one's theme was; Film Titles
The first picture, Cherry Falls, scored a 6
The second, Vertigo, scored a 7
Not a bad result for my first competition!
6th November 2008
I’ve decided I’ve had enough of November and it’s only the 6th. I’d quite like it to be over and December to be here. The more I think about it, the less I like it. I’ll try and explain.
In November the weather is rubbish, its gray and dull and rainy and getting cold. October is a lovely time for the weather, the trees are changing colour and it’s beautifully autumnal. But as autumn turns into winter it goes through the dank, damp, nose dripping stage. I’m a big fan of the seasons and generally love living in England and seeing the year change. I don’t, however, like grey days. Or drizzle, either rain or don’t rain goddamnit!!
Apart from the weather, November is about waiting. Halloween (or Samhain) and all its celebrations, is over, the pumpkins gone squishy and been put on the compost. All the Christmas things have started appearing in the shops – but if you mention it people tut and say it’s too early. I really love Christmas (and Yule) but if I start getting excited now my husband will have killed me by mid December!
On a more serious note, November is not a good month for my other half. November marks the anniversary of his dad’s death. His birthday was also in November. His dad died of cancer when he was nine years old and was obviously a dark time for him and his mum. So both of them spend the month being depressed, crabby and generally on edge.
He doesn’t even do it consciously. Last year we were having a lot of arguments, he was impossible to please or keep happy. Neither of us twigged what the problem was till half way through the month. This year I offered to mark the occasions somehow, visit a favourite place of his dads, or do something with his mum, have a meal – anything really that would give them something to focus their darkness onto and hopefully help them move on from it. But he didn’t want to, he wants to be left to his month of sadness.
So all in all I’ve decided we should be able to fast forward through November, straight to the first door on the advent calendar.
In November the weather is rubbish, its gray and dull and rainy and getting cold. October is a lovely time for the weather, the trees are changing colour and it’s beautifully autumnal. But as autumn turns into winter it goes through the dank, damp, nose dripping stage. I’m a big fan of the seasons and generally love living in England and seeing the year change. I don’t, however, like grey days. Or drizzle, either rain or don’t rain goddamnit!!
Apart from the weather, November is about waiting. Halloween (or Samhain) and all its celebrations, is over, the pumpkins gone squishy and been put on the compost. All the Christmas things have started appearing in the shops – but if you mention it people tut and say it’s too early. I really love Christmas (and Yule) but if I start getting excited now my husband will have killed me by mid December!
On a more serious note, November is not a good month for my other half. November marks the anniversary of his dad’s death. His birthday was also in November. His dad died of cancer when he was nine years old and was obviously a dark time for him and his mum. So both of them spend the month being depressed, crabby and generally on edge.
He doesn’t even do it consciously. Last year we were having a lot of arguments, he was impossible to please or keep happy. Neither of us twigged what the problem was till half way through the month. This year I offered to mark the occasions somehow, visit a favourite place of his dads, or do something with his mum, have a meal – anything really that would give them something to focus their darkness onto and hopefully help them move on from it. But he didn’t want to, he wants to be left to his month of sadness.
So all in all I’ve decided we should be able to fast forward through November, straight to the first door on the advent calendar.
2nd November 2008
I have several things to say today.
I was rudely awoken this morning by the sound of hammering. I was having a lovely dream too. As I lay there to work out which of my children was the culprit and would get the telling off, I realised it was neither of them. The sound was coming from upstairs. We live in a maisonette, so although it’s a house with stairs, we have a bedsit above us. It is the most ridiculous 1970’s design I’ve ever seen, but there you go.
We recently had someone move in up there and so far they have been lovely and quite, we’ve never seen them and only hear their footsteps in the mornings. But today they decided, at 7.50 am, that it was the perfect time to put something on the wall.
Now I don’t care if you’re the most intellectually challenged, web toed, boss eyed “normal for Norfolk” person in Norwich, you must be able to work out that ten to eight on a Sunday morning is not the time to turn your hand to DIY. I mean, come on people, Use Your Brains! Needless to say the kids woke up straight away and I saw my potential lay-in slip off into the ‘what might have been’. Sigh.
After getting up and making our way downstairs gaily, I walked into the kitchen. Sigh. How is it, that even though my husband cleaned up in the kitchen yesterday afternoon, it still looks as if a family of Rhinos made a three course meal in there? So guess what I’ll be doing all afternoon.
Next is my nose. As a young child I found out I was allergic to most animals with fur. It’s never stopped me owning or having animals in the house (with the exception of rabbits and guinea pigs), my mum is a cat person and we’ve always had cats. As a general rule, as long as I don’t cuddle them too closely or let them sleep on my bed or clothes, everything is fine and we can all live in peace and harmony.
The first kitten my darling husband brought home gave me the sniffles for about a week, then I got used to her and it’s all been fine. Last Monday he bought home another bundle of fur (let’s not go into that!). This one is a boy and I’m not sure if it’s because of this, but he is really getting up my nose. No really, something about him is making me have a really bad reaction. Today I’ve been sneezing all morning, my eyes have been running, as has my nose. It’s like something is sitting up my nostrils with the taps on full. I’ve been forced to take an allergy tablet simply because I can’t see straight! Let’s hope it works or I may be forced to knock up some kind of home-made bubble helmet. Hmm that will be attractive.
Now to evict the Rhinos from the kitchen...
I was rudely awoken this morning by the sound of hammering. I was having a lovely dream too. As I lay there to work out which of my children was the culprit and would get the telling off, I realised it was neither of them. The sound was coming from upstairs. We live in a maisonette, so although it’s a house with stairs, we have a bedsit above us. It is the most ridiculous 1970’s design I’ve ever seen, but there you go.
We recently had someone move in up there and so far they have been lovely and quite, we’ve never seen them and only hear their footsteps in the mornings. But today they decided, at 7.50 am, that it was the perfect time to put something on the wall.
Now I don’t care if you’re the most intellectually challenged, web toed, boss eyed “normal for Norfolk” person in Norwich, you must be able to work out that ten to eight on a Sunday morning is not the time to turn your hand to DIY. I mean, come on people, Use Your Brains! Needless to say the kids woke up straight away and I saw my potential lay-in slip off into the ‘what might have been’. Sigh.
After getting up and making our way downstairs gaily, I walked into the kitchen. Sigh. How is it, that even though my husband cleaned up in the kitchen yesterday afternoon, it still looks as if a family of Rhinos made a three course meal in there? So guess what I’ll be doing all afternoon.
Next is my nose. As a young child I found out I was allergic to most animals with fur. It’s never stopped me owning or having animals in the house (with the exception of rabbits and guinea pigs), my mum is a cat person and we’ve always had cats. As a general rule, as long as I don’t cuddle them too closely or let them sleep on my bed or clothes, everything is fine and we can all live in peace and harmony.
The first kitten my darling husband brought home gave me the sniffles for about a week, then I got used to her and it’s all been fine. Last Monday he bought home another bundle of fur (let’s not go into that!). This one is a boy and I’m not sure if it’s because of this, but he is really getting up my nose. No really, something about him is making me have a really bad reaction. Today I’ve been sneezing all morning, my eyes have been running, as has my nose. It’s like something is sitting up my nostrils with the taps on full. I’ve been forced to take an allergy tablet simply because I can’t see straight! Let’s hope it works or I may be forced to knock up some kind of home-made bubble helmet. Hmm that will be attractive.
Now to evict the Rhinos from the kitchen...
30th October 2008
I’ve been feeling a little lost over the past couple of days. I finished work two weeks ago so I’m now at home full time. I have to admit I’m really enjoying it. The little ones are a real joy to be with. Believe me I never thought I’d say that. The three-year-old has got such a great imagination. When he’s playing and I listen in, his games are full of adventure and excitement – and a lot of fighting and destroying, but then he is a boy!
The one-year-old really is pretty cute. She likes to give things to the dog, figures, puzzle pieces, my phone... every now and again I have to go to his bed and empty it of the favours she’s presented him with. Her favourite game is putting things in pots or boxes. Sit her in front of a pile of bricks and a selection of pots and she’ll be there for hours, or she’ll take the bricks to the dog.
We haven’t done a lot in the last two weeks and I’ve let the three-year-old watch too much telly all the time, but he’s discovered Nick Jr on sky and totally love’s it. It’s getting him interested in different things to Cbeebies, exploring, letters, dancing, having fun. He’s like a little TV sponge!
When I was at home before I had a ridged weekly schedule, with something to do each day. It made me really stressed, but it’s what I needed to do to get myself going. I hated being at home in our tiny flat with bored kids so I never stayed home.
Now that I like our house I’m not sure how to balance things. I need to give the kids things to do, take them places and do fun stuff with them, but I also need time at home to do house work and relax.
Also when I am at home I need to get off my bottom and DO the house work. I spend far too much time procrastinating, looking things up on the internet and sitting on Facebook. And I don’t even know why – it’s pretty boring sometimes! I’m just such an obsessive, once I get into something I then can never find a balance. So how’s best to combat this latest obsession. Stop being stupid and switch of the laptop I think....
The one-year-old really is pretty cute. She likes to give things to the dog, figures, puzzle pieces, my phone... every now and again I have to go to his bed and empty it of the favours she’s presented him with. Her favourite game is putting things in pots or boxes. Sit her in front of a pile of bricks and a selection of pots and she’ll be there for hours, or she’ll take the bricks to the dog.
We haven’t done a lot in the last two weeks and I’ve let the three-year-old watch too much telly all the time, but he’s discovered Nick Jr on sky and totally love’s it. It’s getting him interested in different things to Cbeebies, exploring, letters, dancing, having fun. He’s like a little TV sponge!
When I was at home before I had a ridged weekly schedule, with something to do each day. It made me really stressed, but it’s what I needed to do to get myself going. I hated being at home in our tiny flat with bored kids so I never stayed home.
Now that I like our house I’m not sure how to balance things. I need to give the kids things to do, take them places and do fun stuff with them, but I also need time at home to do house work and relax.
Also when I am at home I need to get off my bottom and DO the house work. I spend far too much time procrastinating, looking things up on the internet and sitting on Facebook. And I don’t even know why – it’s pretty boring sometimes! I’m just such an obsessive, once I get into something I then can never find a balance. So how’s best to combat this latest obsession. Stop being stupid and switch of the laptop I think....
27th September 2008
Last night my darling husband had a call from his brother. Him and his wife and their darling daughter were coming to visit, this evening.
Oh holy crap.
The house as ever looked, well let’s just say as it normally does. Now, if this was someone normal coming to visit I wouldn’t have been in such a panic. But my sister-in-law is not a normal person, she is Bury St. Edmunds answer to Anthea Turner. When visiting this woman’s house I never want to touch anything, anything I’m wearing feels dirty, I feel like I should bleach from head to toe before stepping through the door. She polishes the tops of her doorways. Who does that?? Anyway you’re getting the idea.
The thought of her arriving here, to see the leaning tower of paperwork, the grubby handprints at 3ft high around most of the doors, the un-hoovered carpet, the monstrous pile of washing taking over my landing, or the collection of cardboard toilet roll tubes collecting next to the toilet made me feel sick.
There was only one answer. I had to clean and tidy.
I was aided by daylight saving time, which gave me an extra hour, and Nickelodeon Junior, which kept the kids amused all day. I was the epitome of the term ‘whirling dervish’. I sorted, tidied, dusted, folded, scrubbed, polished, hoovered, swept and mopped. It took me 9 hours. I cleaned everything, doors, banisters, light switches and even plugs. I went through 2 packets of baby wipes (the greatest cleaning tool). By the time they got here at 6.15 the house sparkled. My husband was delighted and beaming when he saw it.
So they came, they drank tea, they picked up what they came for and they left. Afterwards I sat on the sofa and thought, I do actually like it being clean and tidy. I feel a sense of accomplishment. And now that it’s done I should be able to maintain it. Well that’s the theory anyway!
And at some stage I’ll do my bedroom, well they weren’t going to go in there were they!
Oh holy crap.
The house as ever looked, well let’s just say as it normally does. Now, if this was someone normal coming to visit I wouldn’t have been in such a panic. But my sister-in-law is not a normal person, she is Bury St. Edmunds answer to Anthea Turner. When visiting this woman’s house I never want to touch anything, anything I’m wearing feels dirty, I feel like I should bleach from head to toe before stepping through the door. She polishes the tops of her doorways. Who does that?? Anyway you’re getting the idea.
The thought of her arriving here, to see the leaning tower of paperwork, the grubby handprints at 3ft high around most of the doors, the un-hoovered carpet, the monstrous pile of washing taking over my landing, or the collection of cardboard toilet roll tubes collecting next to the toilet made me feel sick.
There was only one answer. I had to clean and tidy.
I was aided by daylight saving time, which gave me an extra hour, and Nickelodeon Junior, which kept the kids amused all day. I was the epitome of the term ‘whirling dervish’. I sorted, tidied, dusted, folded, scrubbed, polished, hoovered, swept and mopped. It took me 9 hours. I cleaned everything, doors, banisters, light switches and even plugs. I went through 2 packets of baby wipes (the greatest cleaning tool). By the time they got here at 6.15 the house sparkled. My husband was delighted and beaming when he saw it.
So they came, they drank tea, they picked up what they came for and they left. Afterwards I sat on the sofa and thought, I do actually like it being clean and tidy. I feel a sense of accomplishment. And now that it’s done I should be able to maintain it. Well that’s the theory anyway!
And at some stage I’ll do my bedroom, well they weren’t going to go in there were they!
21st October 2008
I managed to run out of tablets. Anti-depressants, the kind that balance out the chemicals in your brain. The kind that say on them do not stop taking this medication suddenly. I ran out, last week. I knew I was getting low so in the last two weeks I’ve taken 3. The last couple of days have not been fun. The side effects are described on the Internet as ‘an electric shock feeling’. Its a pretty accurate description, although the feeling isn't paid, but like a tide washing through your brain. Thinking straight is hard, I’ve found it really dificult to hold on to and follow a train of thought.
Today I went to get my prescription. On the way someone called me, I got my phone out of my bag and dropped it, looked down like an idiot and hit the car in front of me. Thankfully we were approaching a round a bout and I was breaking so going about 5 mph. The three-year-old said 'Oh mummy why did you bump that car?'
It was an old guy in a very old BMW. I got out of the car, apologised, and realised he had a tow-bar. Bugger. So thankfully no insurance claim, no damage to his car – however I now have a smashed number plate and a damaged bumper. And a car that needs an MOT in 8 days. Great.
On the plus side I now have the stupid tablets and have taken them and after sleeping for 2 hours this afternoon am beginning to remember what feeling normal is like.
Husband thinks I should sell the car and not have one. I have tried to explain that being pregnant, with two children under 4 and not having a car is actually my idea of hell and will cause me to have a nervous breakdown. Where would I be if I couldn’t drive round randomly to send the kids to sleep when they’re crazing me!
Today I went to get my prescription. On the way someone called me, I got my phone out of my bag and dropped it, looked down like an idiot and hit the car in front of me. Thankfully we were approaching a round a bout and I was breaking so going about 5 mph. The three-year-old said 'Oh mummy why did you bump that car?'
It was an old guy in a very old BMW. I got out of the car, apologised, and realised he had a tow-bar. Bugger. So thankfully no insurance claim, no damage to his car – however I now have a smashed number plate and a damaged bumper. And a car that needs an MOT in 8 days. Great.
On the plus side I now have the stupid tablets and have taken them and after sleeping for 2 hours this afternoon am beginning to remember what feeling normal is like.
Husband thinks I should sell the car and not have one. I have tried to explain that being pregnant, with two children under 4 and not having a car is actually my idea of hell and will cause me to have a nervous breakdown. Where would I be if I couldn’t drive round randomly to send the kids to sleep when they’re crazing me!
9th October 2008
I have, through the wonderful medium of Facebook, got in touch with some very old friends. Friends that I haven't seen for many lifetimes. The first, Old- Friend-From-School, I cared about deeply through our high school years. We were from different circles of friends, but we had one lesson together. We treasured this time, to talk and council and gossip. We spent a fortune on 'rough books' to write our adolescent woes in or make up stories to pass the monotonous lessons. I loved this time with her, I didn't try and be 'cool' or impressive, or anything other than her friend.
The other, Friend-From-My-Childhood, I haven't spoken to really since before we went to separate high schools. I have some outstanding childhood memories thanks to her. The kind of memories you hope your children will have. Of playing in gardens, bike rides through country lanes, scrapped knees, prank phone calls, sleep overs and squabbles over toys. She had a Nintendo, which made me jealous. Her mum had a parrot which scared the hell out of me.
I am very glad to be back in touch with old friends. I find strange parallels between our lives. We are all married, we have kids and homes and pets. I think we possibly have more in common now than we did before. They have brightened my life by wanting to be friends again.
I do worry though. I am terrible at keeping in touch. Do I warn them about this? Let them know that when I don't respond I am not ignoring, simply forgetful and in a rush. I am not as good a friend as I should be to many people. Will taking on more mean I spread my capacity for keeping in touch too thin? I guess I'll just have to try my best.
The other, Friend-From-My-Childhood, I haven't spoken to really since before we went to separate high schools. I have some outstanding childhood memories thanks to her. The kind of memories you hope your children will have. Of playing in gardens, bike rides through country lanes, scrapped knees, prank phone calls, sleep overs and squabbles over toys. She had a Nintendo, which made me jealous. Her mum had a parrot which scared the hell out of me.
I am very glad to be back in touch with old friends. I find strange parallels between our lives. We are all married, we have kids and homes and pets. I think we possibly have more in common now than we did before. They have brightened my life by wanting to be friends again.
I do worry though. I am terrible at keeping in touch. Do I warn them about this? Let them know that when I don't respond I am not ignoring, simply forgetful and in a rush. I am not as good a friend as I should be to many people. Will taking on more mean I spread my capacity for keeping in touch too thin? I guess I'll just have to try my best.
25th September 2008
He asked me why I find it so difficult to do the things that need doing in the house. I sat and listened. Agreed with what he said. It has to change, he works very hard, it’s my job not his.
I know these things. I know all these things. Yet, why do I find it so difficult? It’s like a part of my brain is missing. No, not missing but it’s gone on a leave of absence. Normal together me will walk passed a mess and clean it up, sort it out, put it away. The other me will walk round it. Sometimes I’ll look at it and sigh, maybe I’ll do it later. Sometimes I won’t even look at it, as if my sub-conscious doesn’t want me to acknowledge it.
So what’s the answer? Do I need therapy? Counselling? Hypnotherapy for lazy ass people? Where does this affliction come from? I know it’s routed in depression, post-natal or not, depression rips you apart and steals parts of you that you didn’t know you needed. Like the ability to get up and do the washing up. This will sound stupid to those out there who have never felt this way. It’s different from laziness. It’s an actual physical in-ability to do things. No matter how many times I wander into the kitchen, it takes me four hours to actually begin to un-stack and re-stack the dishwasher. Try explaining that to a non-depressive believing husband.
The trouble is he’s not built this way. He’s wired differently. His genes are ‘doing’ genes, his mother never behaved like this. But mine did. For years. And now I do. And no matter how hard I fight it I see the parallels starting to appear.
So how to avert catastrophe? What plan can I implement to stop this inability to get my ass in gear? Answers on a post-card...
I know these things. I know all these things. Yet, why do I find it so difficult? It’s like a part of my brain is missing. No, not missing but it’s gone on a leave of absence. Normal together me will walk passed a mess and clean it up, sort it out, put it away. The other me will walk round it. Sometimes I’ll look at it and sigh, maybe I’ll do it later. Sometimes I won’t even look at it, as if my sub-conscious doesn’t want me to acknowledge it.
So what’s the answer? Do I need therapy? Counselling? Hypnotherapy for lazy ass people? Where does this affliction come from? I know it’s routed in depression, post-natal or not, depression rips you apart and steals parts of you that you didn’t know you needed. Like the ability to get up and do the washing up. This will sound stupid to those out there who have never felt this way. It’s different from laziness. It’s an actual physical in-ability to do things. No matter how many times I wander into the kitchen, it takes me four hours to actually begin to un-stack and re-stack the dishwasher. Try explaining that to a non-depressive believing husband.
The trouble is he’s not built this way. He’s wired differently. His genes are ‘doing’ genes, his mother never behaved like this. But mine did. For years. And now I do. And no matter how hard I fight it I see the parallels starting to appear.
So how to avert catastrophe? What plan can I implement to stop this inability to get my ass in gear? Answers on a post-card...
17th September 2008
I'm sat outside the eight-year-olds school waiting for her to come out. She comes to ours every Wednesday. I can't wait for the two-year-old to go to school. As of tomorrow he will be the three-year-old, if he lives that long. He is driving me insane, he's naughty, he's unruly, I have no control over him. I need to go on one of those bad parent programmes with a woman who will ask me why I don't like my son. Well its not that I don't like him, at times he's sweet and kind and says something so beautiful and touching it stops my heart. Its just that those times are few and his behaviour in between makes me want to crawl into a hole. I think he needs school, he needs the routeen and dissaplin. And I need the break. Hopefully in January he'll get his funding and be able to go mornings to a pre-school. Hopefully!
15th September 2008
I've hurt my back. Actually I would use a lot stronger language than that but I don't like to swear. I really can't believe how much pain I'm in. I know its because I'm pregnant, I had exactly the same thing at this stage of pregnancy with the one-year-old. The reason is simple. As my uterus grows and expands out of my pelvis, it pushes my wobbly bits forwards. Said wobbly bits and extra weight then put pressure on my back, my back is pulled out of line and the muscles spasm. Lots of pain then follows!
I went to see an osteopath today, who stuck his thumbs in the spasming muscles and wiggled me around a bit. He then cracked my bones. So now I am straight again, but the muscles haven't got the message yet. I'm hoping a good nights sleep will help them catch up.
I went to see an osteopath today, who stuck his thumbs in the spasming muscles and wiggled me around a bit. He then cracked my bones. So now I am straight again, but the muscles haven't got the message yet. I'm hoping a good nights sleep will help them catch up.
9th September 2008
I haven't blogged for 21 days. There is a reason. I have to write about something, but before I can I had to make sure it was the right time and the right people already knew so's not to get offended that I would blog it before telling them. Does that make sense? Good. And there hasn't been anything else to blog about as its consumed all of my available brain space.
So, what is this monumental piece of information? I'm pregnant again. Yes that's right again. I am officially a baby making machine. Now what was it I said not so long ago about the house getting smaller?
I've been through lots of emotions since I found out, denial ("No no I can't be I'll take another test in the morning. Two positive results? Oh crap.") anger ("Crap, Bugger, Bollocks, I've got enough bloody stress I don't need another baby!") fear ("I don't want to be pregnant, giving birth really hurts, and it hasn't been long enough since the last time to forget") and lots of being upset. I'm sure at some stage I'll get to being happy!
So there we are, its out there now. I have released the information to the world.
So, what is this monumental piece of information? I'm pregnant again. Yes that's right again. I am officially a baby making machine. Now what was it I said not so long ago about the house getting smaller?
I've been through lots of emotions since I found out, denial ("No no I can't be I'll take another test in the morning. Two positive results? Oh crap.") anger ("Crap, Bugger, Bollocks, I've got enough bloody stress I don't need another baby!") fear ("I don't want to be pregnant, giving birth really hurts, and it hasn't been long enough since the last time to forget") and lots of being upset. I'm sure at some stage I'll get to being happy!
So there we are, its out there now. I have released the information to the world.
19th August 2008
I've joined Norwich & District Photographic Society. It's great fun, and although its predominantly comprised of the older generation, there are really talented people there. Tonight we were shown pictures by a delightful couple.
The title of the evening was 'A Walk on the Wild Side' which made me think of safari, Kenya, lions and other scary mammals with big teeth. But sadly no. No tigers. No lions. The delightful couple had been on holiday to the Falklands. A natural history holiday where they spent their time walking round the islands with telephoto lenses and, I should imagine, matching all-weather jackets.
So I spent an hour looking at some very well produced ornithology pictures. A whole hour. Now I appreciate a well taken and difficult to capture image, I just have no love for birds. And I really don't care that they keep changing the Latin name for some big ugly looking bird with black wings.
At the break I drank black coffee to keep awake and my friend and I hoped the bird mans wife liked something a little more fury and interesting. Turns out she did. She has a fascination with.... Fern's, seaweed and lichen.
I tried very hard not to laugh. And failed. Especially when she told us that she had tried for months to identify a type of lichen, with no luck, until she mentioned it to her friend, a lichen expert, who solved the problem. I turned to my friend, "That's it," I whispered, "I want to go to dinner with them and the lichen expert. I bet we'd have the time of our lives."
At the end of the evening as a society member thanked the beaming couple, I thanked the lord that these two people had found each other. In an imperfect world, there could not be a more perfect match.
The title of the evening was 'A Walk on the Wild Side' which made me think of safari, Kenya, lions and other scary mammals with big teeth. But sadly no. No tigers. No lions. The delightful couple had been on holiday to the Falklands. A natural history holiday where they spent their time walking round the islands with telephoto lenses and, I should imagine, matching all-weather jackets.
So I spent an hour looking at some very well produced ornithology pictures. A whole hour. Now I appreciate a well taken and difficult to capture image, I just have no love for birds. And I really don't care that they keep changing the Latin name for some big ugly looking bird with black wings.
At the break I drank black coffee to keep awake and my friend and I hoped the bird mans wife liked something a little more fury and interesting. Turns out she did. She has a fascination with.... Fern's, seaweed and lichen.
I tried very hard not to laugh. And failed. Especially when she told us that she had tried for months to identify a type of lichen, with no luck, until she mentioned it to her friend, a lichen expert, who solved the problem. I turned to my friend, "That's it," I whispered, "I want to go to dinner with them and the lichen expert. I bet we'd have the time of our lives."
At the end of the evening as a society member thanked the beaming couple, I thanked the lord that these two people had found each other. In an imperfect world, there could not be a more perfect match.
16th August 2008
Letter to my mother:
You had me young and gazed at me lovingly as I slept in your arms. I’ve seen the pictures of delight on your face as I unwrap presents and take my first steps. What happened between that moment and this? You were a constant in my fragile life, my confidant, my rock, my friend. But something in you changed and over these fraught and difficult years the tables have turned.
Now I spend hours advising, coaxing and telling you positive things. Getting you through the next big crisis. I am the strong one, the one with answers, the one with support and the right things to say.
But I’m tired, I’m weary, of being your leaning post. Of holding you above the rising water. I’ve had enough of constant crises, of emotional roller coaster’s, ridiculous situations and frames of mind you get yourself in.
So I’m letting you go. I’m setting you off in a little boat all on your own. I’ve packed you some sandwiches and a bottle of pop. I know it sounds mean and I know you’ll be cross, but I have my own family and my own crisis. My children need the support of me now and I haven’t enough arms to hold you up too.
Please forgive me, I’m sorry but this has to be done. You’ll be fine and you will get through it all. You have the power in you to make the decisions that you need to make. You will still be alive this time next year and if you try your hardest you will sort your life out.
Then maybe I can have my mummy back.
You had me young and gazed at me lovingly as I slept in your arms. I’ve seen the pictures of delight on your face as I unwrap presents and take my first steps. What happened between that moment and this? You were a constant in my fragile life, my confidant, my rock, my friend. But something in you changed and over these fraught and difficult years the tables have turned.
Now I spend hours advising, coaxing and telling you positive things. Getting you through the next big crisis. I am the strong one, the one with answers, the one with support and the right things to say.
But I’m tired, I’m weary, of being your leaning post. Of holding you above the rising water. I’ve had enough of constant crises, of emotional roller coaster’s, ridiculous situations and frames of mind you get yourself in.
So I’m letting you go. I’m setting you off in a little boat all on your own. I’ve packed you some sandwiches and a bottle of pop. I know it sounds mean and I know you’ll be cross, but I have my own family and my own crisis. My children need the support of me now and I haven’t enough arms to hold you up too.
Please forgive me, I’m sorry but this has to be done. You’ll be fine and you will get through it all. You have the power in you to make the decisions that you need to make. You will still be alive this time next year and if you try your hardest you will sort your life out.
Then maybe I can have my mummy back.
14th August 2008
What an emotional day. I'm exhausted. Emotionally and physically. I've spent a lot of the day crying, but I think we have it sorted now. I'm not quite ready to put it all into words. That would make it too real.
I've decided two things today. Firstly I like being at home. I like my little family unit, I like being mum. I love my children. They make me smile, make me want to bake cookies and go on nature hikes, make play dough and read them Enid Blyton books. I want to be a stay at home mom, from a small town in 1930s America.
The second thing I decided was I am hooked on American crime drama. NCIS is my current favourite followed by CSI Vegas, Miami and New York, in that order. I want to be Abby from NCIS. She is so cool, sort of goth crossed with Betty Page. Its great, all black hair in pigtails and mini-skirts. If I could be 18 again I'd dress like that.
I've just spotted a theme. Why is it I think about being someone or something else? Do I really think that little of myself that all I can do is think about who else I could be. Maybe I should find out who lives in this body and try and be her for a while.
I've decided two things today. Firstly I like being at home. I like my little family unit, I like being mum. I love my children. They make me smile, make me want to bake cookies and go on nature hikes, make play dough and read them Enid Blyton books. I want to be a stay at home mom, from a small town in 1930s America.
The second thing I decided was I am hooked on American crime drama. NCIS is my current favourite followed by CSI Vegas, Miami and New York, in that order. I want to be Abby from NCIS. She is so cool, sort of goth crossed with Betty Page. Its great, all black hair in pigtails and mini-skirts. If I could be 18 again I'd dress like that.
I've just spotted a theme. Why is it I think about being someone or something else? Do I really think that little of myself that all I can do is think about who else I could be. Maybe I should find out who lives in this body and try and be her for a while.
10th August 2008
A friend told me she'd read my Blog today. She said she didn't realise I felt so down. I asked my husband, he said I do sound down about life if you listen to me talk. I didn't realise. I suppose that I made the decision to be totally honest and open in this Blog and its come out quite negative, which upsets me. I always think of myself as a positive person. I see the good in people, I'm trusting, I love my children and my husband. There are things I am down about, my weight, my smoking, my lack of qualifications, our continual lack of money, the fact I can't keep my house clean and tidy, my mum. I suppose its quite a big list really! There are things I can do about most of these things; I'm going to join weight watchers, I can give up smoking when I feel less stressed, I've signed up for an OU course in Feb next year so I can start working towards a degree, we're sorting out our finances. I need to be more organised and disciplined with the housework.
I think a lot of it is to do with my post-natal depression. I've had it quite badly this time round. I've just changed my tablets too and the new ones are much better. I'm starting to feel like my old self again, I've even got my libido back, which my husband is thrilled about! But its been a long and hard 9 months since I was at rock bottom and I think it will be a long and possibly hard climb back up. I know my life isn't perfect, but its better than some peoples and I have a caring husband and two beautiful kids who make my smile and laugh everyday.
And for everything else I can get therapy!!
I think a lot of it is to do with my post-natal depression. I've had it quite badly this time round. I've just changed my tablets too and the new ones are much better. I'm starting to feel like my old self again, I've even got my libido back, which my husband is thrilled about! But its been a long and hard 9 months since I was at rock bottom and I think it will be a long and possibly hard climb back up. I know my life isn't perfect, but its better than some peoples and I have a caring husband and two beautiful kids who make my smile and laugh everyday.
And for everything else I can get therapy!!
8th August 2008
I'm reading a book Addition by Toni Jordan. I don't know what it is about books, but I get so absorbed in them I begin to think like the lead character. This book is about an obsessive compulsive called Grace. She's not a cleaner but a counter. She counts things, everything, she knows the dimensions of her entire world. And she has a schedule or a list for everything. I think this is a brilliant idea. In a nice new notebook I've written lists, one for things I should do each day, one for each week and one for each month. I think if its all written down I can make sure everything is done. Because god knows I'm a rubbish housewife! Let's see if it works.
7th August 2008
I really don't like my job. I work in a large office sorting out theft and total loss claims for an insurance company. I find the whole experience of work intolerable.
You go to work every day, you see the same people, sit at the same desk then go home to participate in your real life. People form relationships, the person you sit next to and chat with everyday, the girl you see at the coffee machine, the lady you sometimes eat lunch with. You find out snippets of their real lives, the person they are away from the corporate facade. Then one day they leave. Have a baby, move away, find another job with less phone calls and less stress. And you don't see or hear from them again. Written out of your life except for "do u remember so-and-so?" conversations.
When I went on maternity leave I didn't call them, didn't visit, didn't pop in with my bundle of joy, or go to the Christmas party. And when I went back I didn't get a cheer, no big welcome back or we've missed you. It was this is your desk now, take your time getting back into the swing. Maybe its my own fault for not attending any KIT (keeping in touch) days.
Now I feel adrift in the office. Strawberry jam on my shirt from sticky and tearful goodbyes at the nursery door. My eyes glaze over at the conversations about drunken weekends.
Get a new job my husband says, find something you enjoy. But you need to work, we need to pay the bills. He secretly thinks if I stay at home I'll stagnate, the post natal depression will grow and eat me up again. But all my aspirations involve degree's or NVQ's. And we can't afford that. So I stay in my job and feel my brain stagnate.
You go to work every day, you see the same people, sit at the same desk then go home to participate in your real life. People form relationships, the person you sit next to and chat with everyday, the girl you see at the coffee machine, the lady you sometimes eat lunch with. You find out snippets of their real lives, the person they are away from the corporate facade. Then one day they leave. Have a baby, move away, find another job with less phone calls and less stress. And you don't see or hear from them again. Written out of your life except for "do u remember so-and-so?" conversations.
When I went on maternity leave I didn't call them, didn't visit, didn't pop in with my bundle of joy, or go to the Christmas party. And when I went back I didn't get a cheer, no big welcome back or we've missed you. It was this is your desk now, take your time getting back into the swing. Maybe its my own fault for not attending any KIT (keeping in touch) days.
Now I feel adrift in the office. Strawberry jam on my shirt from sticky and tearful goodbyes at the nursery door. My eyes glaze over at the conversations about drunken weekends.
Get a new job my husband says, find something you enjoy. But you need to work, we need to pay the bills. He secretly thinks if I stay at home I'll stagnate, the post natal depression will grow and eat me up again. But all my aspirations involve degree's or NVQ's. And we can't afford that. So I stay in my job and feel my brain stagnate.
4th August 2008
I am officially stupid and mother-hood is eating my brain. I managed to leave my inhalers for my asthma in Spain. Doh, as my husband and Hommer Simpson would say. My spare ran out this morning so I got steadily wheezier as the day wore on. By the time I got home after toddler group and the weekly shop, I was struggling. Thankfully my wonderful husband picked up my prescription from the doctors and saved me. Although only just, I was beginning to contemplate an ambulance.
As a result of my stupid day I haven't been able to do anything. Yesterday I couldn't be bothered and today I actually couldn't but wanted to, I suppose that's karma's way of telling me I should get off my ass and do stuff when I'm meant to!
As a result of my stupid day I haven't been able to do anything. Yesterday I couldn't be bothered and today I actually couldn't but wanted to, I suppose that's karma's way of telling me I should get off my ass and do stuff when I'm meant to!
3rd August 2008
I'm not having a good day today. I think I've got post holiday blues. When we were in Spain we had had enough, enough of my family, enough of the heat, enough of my crazy mother and her even crazier Moroccan boyfriend and enough of the continual arguments. But today I'm missing it all.
The problem is my life is boring, its stressful and there is too much housework to do. Can you be stressed and bored at the same time? I think you can if your constantly on the go with mundane and menial tasks that mothers and house-runners have to do.
So I spend the day watching TV. Strange films and day-time documentaries about weird illnesses. I watch the toys mount up around me and every now and again walk into the kitchen and look at the ever mounting pile of washing up, shove it to one side and make another coffee. I should be sorting out the suitcases and unpacking, catching up on washing and organising the two-year-old's toys, which I didn't get time to do before we went. But, and I'm being totally truthful here, Octopussy is on and I can't be arsed! Maybe I'll post this and make a start....
The problem is my life is boring, its stressful and there is too much housework to do. Can you be stressed and bored at the same time? I think you can if your constantly on the go with mundane and menial tasks that mothers and house-runners have to do.
So I spend the day watching TV. Strange films and day-time documentaries about weird illnesses. I watch the toys mount up around me and every now and again walk into the kitchen and look at the ever mounting pile of washing up, shove it to one side and make another coffee. I should be sorting out the suitcases and unpacking, catching up on washing and organising the two-year-old's toys, which I didn't get time to do before we went. But, and I'm being totally truthful here, Octopussy is on and I can't be arsed! Maybe I'll post this and make a start....
1st August 2008
My husband got a kitten. A small fluffy ginger fuzz ball. It is very cute but I'm trying to be cross with him. Before we went on holiday he mentioned the kittens in the pet shop next to where he works and I said no, we're about to go away and its not the right time. The day after we got back he went to Tesco to buy bread and milk and called me. This is how the conversation went;
"Go and look at your mobile."
"Why?"
"I've sent you something."
"What?"
"Just go look."
My suspicion mounted.
"You're in the pet shop aren't you? No we're not having a kitten."
"How do you know that's what it is?"
"Because I know you too well and I'm not stupid."
"Hmmm... I'll see you in a minute."
"Don't come back with a kitten."
He'd already gone.
I sighed.
Now we have a kitten. And I'm sneezing, yes I'm allergic to cats. Which he knows. He hopes I'll acclimatise to it. The two-year-old is of course besotted, he spent an hour chasing it round this afternoon trying to cuddle her. The kitten thought this was a great game. But my son got a little frustrated when she wouldn't sit still.
So now we are: a taxi driver, a two-year-old, a baby, an eight year old on alternate weekends, two immortal gerbils (no matter how hard I try), a ginger kitten and a frazzled mother/wife/food source. This house is getting smaller.
31st July 2008
My beautiful baby girl sleeps next to me on the bed. I wonder how one so small can take up so much of a double bed. She is beauty and innocence. A cherub plucked from the sky to grace my life for a while. She stirs at an imagined noise and turns away from me. I have not known love like this before. Something between a mother and her daughter. In a busy life she brightens my day briefly with a smile or a coo but all too often I do not take the time to sit and watch and let her angel light fill my heart. I must take this time more often.
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