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.
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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