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It is, of course, very difficult for one person to meet another's total needs.
I have always known that I don't satisfy my husband completely. Recently, he has got close to somebody and formed a new relationship.
They spend a lot of time together out and about. They laugh a lot and share a drink or two. They share a lot of opinions and similar backgrounds. They can talk in a way that me and my husband can't. I have the experience of being in their company and realising that they are having their own private party and have backed off and retreated back home. My husband's new flame is a little older than him but that does not bother him. They are now living together.
Who is this new flame?
My Dad lol!
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Monday, 20 September 2010
Joys of the child-free zone
1. I can enjoy talking to a grown-up without interruption
2. I don't have to share my meals
3. I can have a long, hot bath with extra-special bubble bath
4. I can use my electric toothbrush without a child trying to purloin it
5. I can sit in my sunny courtyard and read a book
6. I can take a break from waitressing and refereeing
7. I can tidy up and not see my efforts instantly destroyed
8. There is way less washing up to do
9. My body is my own with nobody pulling at it, ditto my mind and spirit
10.I can talk to someone on the telephone
11. I can blog, work on my novel, twitter, facebook, netmums or whatever takes my fancy
Perhaps the best joy of all is that by the time the taxi delivers my delightful trio of children, I will be relaxed and refreshed. I will feel able to give them proper quality time with homework, story-telling, playing, baking and so on.
And yes, I am sure my need for me time makes me a terrible mother but I know I can be a much better one now that they are all in school and I have time to think, feel and plan.
2. I don't have to share my meals
3. I can have a long, hot bath with extra-special bubble bath
4. I can use my electric toothbrush without a child trying to purloin it
5. I can sit in my sunny courtyard and read a book
6. I can take a break from waitressing and refereeing
7. I can tidy up and not see my efforts instantly destroyed
8. There is way less washing up to do
9. My body is my own with nobody pulling at it, ditto my mind and spirit
10.I can talk to someone on the telephone
11. I can blog, work on my novel, twitter, facebook, netmums or whatever takes my fancy
Perhaps the best joy of all is that by the time the taxi delivers my delightful trio of children, I will be relaxed and refreshed. I will feel able to give them proper quality time with homework, story-telling, playing, baking and so on.
And yes, I am sure my need for me time makes me a terrible mother but I know I can be a much better one now that they are all in school and I have time to think, feel and plan.
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
The School Bus
We have just moved to the country. As my husband needs to do a longish commute to work and I don't drive, this means we are taking advantage of the local authority's free transport schemes for school children.
My 9 year old did not like the idea of travelling on a bus from the start. Then he got hold of the council leaflet which focussed very much on safety so now he is using every frightening statistic to accuse me of child abuse in even thinking about putting him on an evil beast such as a bus.
My 6 year old says it is exciting to go on the bus and loves her bus pass as it is bright and yellow and she can wear it round her neck.
My 4 year old only starts full-time school next week but seems to think that going on the bus will be a huge adventure.
The night before they went on the bus for the first time, I barely slept. I am so used to either walking them to school or waving them off as my husband drives them there. Throughout the night, I fretted away with a really sore solar plexus wondering if I was doing the right thing.
I took them to the bus stop and met a mum there who reassured me that they would be fine. It was good to meet a new friendly face and she made me feel much better about things. The children got on fine and the bus driver told me that I did not have a pass so could not go with them. I was not proposing to but was standing at the door of the bus with a tortured face on clearly.
My 9 year old still thinks I am a terrible mother. He reports that the older children swear and throw tic tacs. Find it hard to focus on what he is saying as I remember my childhood addiction to orange tic tacs.
I get annoyed as he does an emotional job on his sister so that she changes her smile to a tantrum and refuses to go on the bus. I talk her round and remind her about her colourful bus pass. She loves all things colourful and she is soon cheery again.
I remember going on the school bus. I remember getting punched in the stomach by a lad. I remember Mum and Dad moving house to be nearer the school as a result of this incident. All I can say is that if my lot want to enjoy chickens, pigs and life in the country, the school bus is non-negotiable. I will spin it as character-building and may well find a shop that sells tic-tacs.
My 9 year old did not like the idea of travelling on a bus from the start. Then he got hold of the council leaflet which focussed very much on safety so now he is using every frightening statistic to accuse me of child abuse in even thinking about putting him on an evil beast such as a bus.
My 6 year old says it is exciting to go on the bus and loves her bus pass as it is bright and yellow and she can wear it round her neck.
My 4 year old only starts full-time school next week but seems to think that going on the bus will be a huge adventure.
The night before they went on the bus for the first time, I barely slept. I am so used to either walking them to school or waving them off as my husband drives them there. Throughout the night, I fretted away with a really sore solar plexus wondering if I was doing the right thing.
I took them to the bus stop and met a mum there who reassured me that they would be fine. It was good to meet a new friendly face and she made me feel much better about things. The children got on fine and the bus driver told me that I did not have a pass so could not go with them. I was not proposing to but was standing at the door of the bus with a tortured face on clearly.
My 9 year old still thinks I am a terrible mother. He reports that the older children swear and throw tic tacs. Find it hard to focus on what he is saying as I remember my childhood addiction to orange tic tacs.
I get annoyed as he does an emotional job on his sister so that she changes her smile to a tantrum and refuses to go on the bus. I talk her round and remind her about her colourful bus pass. She loves all things colourful and she is soon cheery again.
I remember going on the school bus. I remember getting punched in the stomach by a lad. I remember Mum and Dad moving house to be nearer the school as a result of this incident. All I can say is that if my lot want to enjoy chickens, pigs and life in the country, the school bus is non-negotiable. I will spin it as character-building and may well find a shop that sells tic-tacs.
Monday, 13 September 2010
The Blacksmith's Report
We arrived at our new home to find the previous occupant still in place trying to locate his Siamese cat. Eventually, he had to admit defeat and leave the cat to us so now we have a cat as well as two Labrador dogs. The other animal occupant (so far and excluding the humans in the family) is Mabel the hen.
Life is happy and I feel incredibly revived and in the right place for me at this time. As soon as I saw the house, I knew it was home, somewhere I think I have been looking for or trying to get back to. My daughter drew a picture at school that matches the house before we had seen it and my son said if he won a million pounds, he would buy a house with two annexes and a huge garden. That was weeks before I found this place so I think someone is directing operations (God, my higher self, mum).
I wake up and immediately want to get up. I can't recall the time I last felt that way, so positive about what the day might bring. I go out to my little courtyard area and sit at the table there eating breakfast. Then I visit Mabel and give her some chicken food and let her out of our barn so she can be really "free range". On the first day, she went missing and was returned by a neighbour but now she seems to have taken to us and stays close. She is quite the character and swears at you if you don't let her out on time or put her away for the evening early enough. She lets you stroke her and I just love having a hen to talk to. Sad but true.
I feed the cat and dogs and potter about. This is a great place for taking it easy, walking on the land, picking fruit from the little orchard, inspecting the barn contents and dreaming of what animals to buy next. Weaner pigs seem like a good option and I am weighing up the pros of ducks such as eggs against the mess I understand they make.
Today, it is great as the free school transport has kicked in so I wave them off at 8.15 and don't see them again till 3.45pm. Time to think, plan, dream and potter. Time to read and write, to walk, to listen to music, to be me. Him Indoors and I have even managed the odd hour in the pub learning to be a couple again.
So it's good and I am pleased to be blogging all about it.
I have not missed city life so far although recognise that may come at some point but for now, I am loving my escape to the country.
Life is happy and I feel incredibly revived and in the right place for me at this time. As soon as I saw the house, I knew it was home, somewhere I think I have been looking for or trying to get back to. My daughter drew a picture at school that matches the house before we had seen it and my son said if he won a million pounds, he would buy a house with two annexes and a huge garden. That was weeks before I found this place so I think someone is directing operations (God, my higher self, mum).
I wake up and immediately want to get up. I can't recall the time I last felt that way, so positive about what the day might bring. I go out to my little courtyard area and sit at the table there eating breakfast. Then I visit Mabel and give her some chicken food and let her out of our barn so she can be really "free range". On the first day, she went missing and was returned by a neighbour but now she seems to have taken to us and stays close. She is quite the character and swears at you if you don't let her out on time or put her away for the evening early enough. She lets you stroke her and I just love having a hen to talk to. Sad but true.
I feed the cat and dogs and potter about. This is a great place for taking it easy, walking on the land, picking fruit from the little orchard, inspecting the barn contents and dreaming of what animals to buy next. Weaner pigs seem like a good option and I am weighing up the pros of ducks such as eggs against the mess I understand they make.
Today, it is great as the free school transport has kicked in so I wave them off at 8.15 and don't see them again till 3.45pm. Time to think, plan, dream and potter. Time to read and write, to walk, to listen to music, to be me. Him Indoors and I have even managed the odd hour in the pub learning to be a couple again.
So it's good and I am pleased to be blogging all about it.
I have not missed city life so far although recognise that may come at some point but for now, I am loving my escape to the country.
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
Packing Up - a tale of a million bin liners
I am moving house. I am leaving Leeds and the fates are conspiring to take me to a new life in the country complete with my own small-holding. A house where I can live with my whole family as the property I am moving to has an annexe for my Dad.
I read an article recently that described what I am doing as the ultimate middle class dream. I an not sure if that is true or not. I don't really identify as middle-class having never quite lost the pride in claiming to be working-class that my parents held.
So a week today, me and my old man will be packing a van, people carrier or summat like that and heading to our new home, field, orchard and paddock.
So in the middle of the school holidays with my terrible trio rioting merrily around me, I am trying to pack up boxes and seem to spend my life with my head in a bin liner.
Him Indoors has spent the last three weeks like Rabbit in Winnie the Pooh screeching "We need a plan. We need to pack" whilst ironically doing very little actual packing. I, on the other hand, with my non-life, have packed a million bin liners and several boxes.
I spend my days snalysing individual items to see if they are for the new house, the charity shop or the tip. Examples include ...
A teddy bear whose head hangs on by a thread and whose stuffing is escaping through his bum. This is the first gift my eldest brother bought my youngest child. It means a lot to me but realistically, my son has never played with it and my brother won't remember it. We see my brother very rarely usually around the birth of a baby or the death of a mother. So I let it go.
A blackboard and clock both in Fifties style with the legend saying "One more job till gin and tonic time". These speak to something in my soul so I keep them.
Countless dvds and videos - I work out that you can get most of these on Sky at some point now so let them go to the charity shop.
Home-made cards from the children and romantic cards from Him Indoors. Non-negotiable, these are going wherever I am going.
Menus from Law Society dinners at college. Too many memories and too much nostalgia to consider losing yet. They may even generate a blog post very soon.
My adoption paperwork. I keep these because on bleak days they make some sort of sense of who I am. Also when one of my children appears on "Who Do You Think You Are?" on the telly, these will be a useful starting point.
Do we redefine ourselves a little each time we move house I wonder?
What do you keep, send to the charity shop, freecyle or tip?
Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye.
I read an article recently that described what I am doing as the ultimate middle class dream. I an not sure if that is true or not. I don't really identify as middle-class having never quite lost the pride in claiming to be working-class that my parents held.
So a week today, me and my old man will be packing a van, people carrier or summat like that and heading to our new home, field, orchard and paddock.
So in the middle of the school holidays with my terrible trio rioting merrily around me, I am trying to pack up boxes and seem to spend my life with my head in a bin liner.
Him Indoors has spent the last three weeks like Rabbit in Winnie the Pooh screeching "We need a plan. We need to pack" whilst ironically doing very little actual packing. I, on the other hand, with my non-life, have packed a million bin liners and several boxes.
I spend my days snalysing individual items to see if they are for the new house, the charity shop or the tip. Examples include ...
A teddy bear whose head hangs on by a thread and whose stuffing is escaping through his bum. This is the first gift my eldest brother bought my youngest child. It means a lot to me but realistically, my son has never played with it and my brother won't remember it. We see my brother very rarely usually around the birth of a baby or the death of a mother. So I let it go.
A blackboard and clock both in Fifties style with the legend saying "One more job till gin and tonic time". These speak to something in my soul so I keep them.
Countless dvds and videos - I work out that you can get most of these on Sky at some point now so let them go to the charity shop.
Home-made cards from the children and romantic cards from Him Indoors. Non-negotiable, these are going wherever I am going.
Menus from Law Society dinners at college. Too many memories and too much nostalgia to consider losing yet. They may even generate a blog post very soon.
My adoption paperwork. I keep these because on bleak days they make some sort of sense of who I am. Also when one of my children appears on "Who Do You Think You Are?" on the telly, these will be a useful starting point.
Do we redefine ourselves a little each time we move house I wonder?
What do you keep, send to the charity shop, freecyle or tip?
Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye.
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
Results Day
This post is inspired by my friend's wonderful twins who got good results in their GCSEs today. Massive congratulations and hope you go onto lots of successes but more vitally, lots of happinesses and big ones at that!
I don't remember all that much about going for my O-Level results. I did well in all my subjects. Would have preferred to be good at sports or popular with other pupils. But the one thing I could do well was pass exams.
I had to go for a one-to-one talk with Mr Day, my form tutor. He said I had "an outside chance" of getting into Oxbridge. He told me this would require hard work and might mean that I would lose friends.
I remember feeling odd that a teacher was talking to me as if I was suddenly an adult with choices to make. I knew instantly that I would go for Cambridge and not Oxford. I think this was based on a picture I had seen in the Book of Knowledge years before. It looked pretty.
I do remember two words that Mr Day used about me that day. I did not know the meaning of either of them so he had to explain.
One was taciturn. Bet my parents, brothers, close friends and husband could argue with that one. However, unless I am fuelled by intimacy or drink, I think it still applies. I never quite have the confidence to deliver the witty remark forming in my head or to stand my ground in an argument unless my passions are roused which is usually if I see someone being put down.
The other was diffident. He asked me why I thought I always came top or second in class. I actually said (and I am sorry to any former classmates reading this) that I thought it was because everybody else in the school with a couple of exceptions were thick.
I think My Day knew me very well. I still find it very hard to "own" my achievements and feel very disconnected from my CV which even I objectively can see if fairly impressive. It's the same with parenting. My children are healthy, happy and bright. They are polite and loved by all that meet then. Do I see me in any of this? No, I just beat myself for all the ways that I am not adequate, perfect, yummy or whatever.
What would I say to that 16 year old in 1985? I would definitely tell her to go to Cambridge (if only to meet Luisa and Richard - blatant creep). I would tell her that her results, good or bad, would not define her or necessarily lead to riches and prestige. I would tell her that in really important ways, she was unlikely to change much at all.
I might also mention that she had already forgotten would reappear in her life at the age of 41 and generate a weird new fangled thing called a blog post.
Here's to all those who did well today and all those who will learn that bad results ain't the end of the world.
I don't remember all that much about going for my O-Level results. I did well in all my subjects. Would have preferred to be good at sports or popular with other pupils. But the one thing I could do well was pass exams.
I had to go for a one-to-one talk with Mr Day, my form tutor. He said I had "an outside chance" of getting into Oxbridge. He told me this would require hard work and might mean that I would lose friends.
I remember feeling odd that a teacher was talking to me as if I was suddenly an adult with choices to make. I knew instantly that I would go for Cambridge and not Oxford. I think this was based on a picture I had seen in the Book of Knowledge years before. It looked pretty.
I do remember two words that Mr Day used about me that day. I did not know the meaning of either of them so he had to explain.
One was taciturn. Bet my parents, brothers, close friends and husband could argue with that one. However, unless I am fuelled by intimacy or drink, I think it still applies. I never quite have the confidence to deliver the witty remark forming in my head or to stand my ground in an argument unless my passions are roused which is usually if I see someone being put down.
The other was diffident. He asked me why I thought I always came top or second in class. I actually said (and I am sorry to any former classmates reading this) that I thought it was because everybody else in the school with a couple of exceptions were thick.
I think My Day knew me very well. I still find it very hard to "own" my achievements and feel very disconnected from my CV which even I objectively can see if fairly impressive. It's the same with parenting. My children are healthy, happy and bright. They are polite and loved by all that meet then. Do I see me in any of this? No, I just beat myself for all the ways that I am not adequate, perfect, yummy or whatever.
What would I say to that 16 year old in 1985? I would definitely tell her to go to Cambridge (if only to meet Luisa and Richard - blatant creep). I would tell her that her results, good or bad, would not define her or necessarily lead to riches and prestige. I would tell her that in really important ways, she was unlikely to change much at all.
I might also mention that she had already forgotten would reappear in her life at the age of 41 and generate a weird new fangled thing called a blog post.
Here's to all those who did well today and all those who will learn that bad results ain't the end of the world.
Friday, 20 August 2010
What type of mistress are you?
Last night over a fantastic meal courtesy of Him Indoors, we decided not to watch the drama "Mistresses" in favour of watching the Hotel Inspector. Both of us agreed we have just not got into this series finding it less gripping than the other two. I also have a deep suspicion of things with Joanna Lumley in them. I have a similar issue with Michael Caine but anyway, back to Mistresses.
Presumably the four main characters are supposed to reflect the joys and challenges of being a woman today. So I am going to have a go at reflecting on what I share with any of the characters and encourage you, dear reader, to do the same and perhaps share as a comment if you are feeling particularly brave.
Trudi
Well like her I have been lied to by a fraudster very badly and burnt emotionally.
I also make a mighty fine cupcake.
I have dabbled with business but have far too soft a heart to succeed so I differ there
I have committed 100% to jobs in the past and on one occasion left my newborn son for my partner to care for leading to him feeling abandoned and probably not unlike I feel caring for 3 children whilst his career builds now.
I have also had sex at work (more than once - oooo-er!)
Siobhan
Well, I am a sort of lawyer having done law at university, gone to law college and used law in advice work settings.
I have certainly longed for a baby to the extent of crying every time anyone I came across had one
I have probably being guilty of letting "the one" get away although am mighty glad I did in the end
I have had sex with a colleague and got pregnant by them
Katie
Definitely had issues with my late mother as she does with hers
I have had relationships with very much older men
I have dallied (sexually and otherwise) with men who had girlfriends at the time
Jessica
Not like her really
Never a good time girl (regrettably!)
I do know about supporting at least two boyfriends through thick and thin
I have not dallied sexually with women but won't knock it till I try it lol
Well, how about you?
Presumably the four main characters are supposed to reflect the joys and challenges of being a woman today. So I am going to have a go at reflecting on what I share with any of the characters and encourage you, dear reader, to do the same and perhaps share as a comment if you are feeling particularly brave.
Trudi
Well like her I have been lied to by a fraudster very badly and burnt emotionally.
I also make a mighty fine cupcake.
I have dabbled with business but have far too soft a heart to succeed so I differ there
I have committed 100% to jobs in the past and on one occasion left my newborn son for my partner to care for leading to him feeling abandoned and probably not unlike I feel caring for 3 children whilst his career builds now.
I have also had sex at work (more than once - oooo-er!)
Siobhan
Well, I am a sort of lawyer having done law at university, gone to law college and used law in advice work settings.
I have certainly longed for a baby to the extent of crying every time anyone I came across had one
I have probably being guilty of letting "the one" get away although am mighty glad I did in the end
I have had sex with a colleague and got pregnant by them
Katie
Definitely had issues with my late mother as she does with hers
I have had relationships with very much older men
I have dallied (sexually and otherwise) with men who had girlfriends at the time
Jessica
Not like her really
Never a good time girl (regrettably!)
I do know about supporting at least two boyfriends through thick and thin
I have not dallied sexually with women but won't knock it till I try it lol
Well, how about you?
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