How is it that when a man and a woman decide to have a child together it is only the woman that changes her priorities?
I'm absolutely sick to death of my husbands attitude to all things family orientated!
The most irritating of all being that he seems incapable of taking charge of any of the children for any length of time yet it is perfectly feasible for me to look after all 3 of them from Monday through Friday from the moment they wake up until they collapse into bed of an evening and then (and only then!) do I get to start on my work.
You see I am self employed. I have my own business which comprises of 3 incomes. I also volunteer for the catholic preschool which my children all attend, have attended or will attend. Obviously having three children going through it over a period of many years I felt it would be charitable of me to give something back.
The work to which I refer to above that begins after the children hit slumber land actually refers to the running of the house; with 3 children under 4 they require constant supervision, entertainment, feeding, attention throughout the day.
What really pisses me off is that my husband then see's fit to come home and moan that he might have to put a dishwasher load on!
I mean it's really not a lot to ask is it?
How come also is it ok for him to deposit various item's of dirty washing wherever he feels is acceptable yet we strive to teach our offspring where is the correct place to put their dirty clothes to assist mummy in being able to do the wash/dry/iron/hanging up with smooth efficiency. Surely we should be practicing what we preach?
Yet, all the blue jobs in the house like emptying bin, gardening, decorating, DIY, dog walking can be left until he sees fit to actually get off his arse to do it.
I don't mean to be funny, but, if I am expected to raise 3 kids, run a whole house, bring in 3 incomes (that equal his sole income!) why the fuck does he get a night off for a Christmas drink with his mates but I don't?
Sexual equality, yea right.
Friday, 10 December 2010
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
sound advice!
The definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing and expect a different result. Unfortunately no one is going to change things for you - you have to choose your life sweetheart. Make some choices for YOU, your HEALTH and your HAPPINESS. Life is not about working yourself into the ground (or into hospital from stress) life is about living and laughing and being happy and enjoying yourself .... when did you do any of that lately? I love you xx
"Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling 5 balls in the air - work, family, health, friends and spirit. Work is a rubber ball - if you drop it , it will bounce back. But the other 4 balls - family, health, friends, spirit - are made of glass. If you drop one of these they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same."
"Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling 5 balls in the air - work, family, health, friends and spirit. Work is a rubber ball - if you drop it , it will bounce back. But the other 4 balls - family, health, friends, spirit - are made of glass. If you drop one of these they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same."
Ghost of Christmas past...
Right. Here I go being a complete selfish bitch again!
A (very) long time ago I was in a (forbidden) relationship (marriage) to my ex. We were totally wrong for each other in so many ways. All celebrations came and went with very little thought going into my gifts yet somehow he always managed to get them right.
Absolutely spot on. Every time (irritatingly).
I really do not think of him much often but we were together for 7 years so he has left an imprint on my life and my relationship abilities.
He never failed to surprise me when it came to gifts. They ranged from the extravagant (jewelery, holidays and the like) to the small (intimate details were never overlooked, my favourite perfume that I was running out of, new underwear, another addition to my Winnie the Pooh collection etc etc. the list goes on.)
Anyway. Due to (oh soooo) many reasons. We parted company.
Ever since I have never met another male who has been able to match his gift buying abilities.
I question whether Mr Ex was particularly good at buying gifts for me to make up for his complete balls up in every other capacity in our relationship. Alas, I digress.
With Christmas coming I have been very careful to detail to my (crap at buying gifts) husband EXACTLY what I would like to unwrap come the big day. I know we don't have a lot of money and I have explicitly explained that I only expect to receive the one gift from him and the children as a collective. I even emailed him the link to the website that sells them. Not because I am totally unreasonable, ungrateful for any other gift he may buy, but because it is something that I really need. Something that I would have liked a long time ago, however it is a replacement to something I have already had and I have been patient and waited until my old one is dying a slow death. Overall, I have learnt my lesson. Hints just do not work...!
Last night, my husband made a big deal about borrowing my laptop and ordering me a gift from him. (So I already know that he hasn't listened.) I hoped that perhaps he had been super diligent and found them cheaper elsewhere or got a good deal or maybe even had a secret stash of money that I hadn't known about and could afford to buy me more than one gift. He was pleased as punch with himself. He is the man that runs out on my birthday to pick up a card and a gift (if I'm lucky!) and the guy that is frantically buying whatever is left for Christmas or Mothering Sunday. I even can't remember the last time he bought me a Valentines card.
I have just discovered what he has bought me. (My hubby is RUBBISH at keeping secrets and has dropped hints all over the place. He also stupidly ordered it on my amazon account and they sent me a confirmation email....Had I not purchased items from them which I am waiting delivery I probably would not have opened the email. School boy error.)
Regardless...
My hubby has bought me something that I really do not want. We had a conversation about the item last Christmas and I explained my reasons for not wanting one quite explicitly.
I can almost understand the logic behind him purchasing one of these for me:
He knows how much I love to read. However, when I explained last year my reasons for not wanting one, I thought I had been quite specific. I love the touch, smell and feel of a real book.
I admit I don't like surprises, for this specific reason; I don't like to disappoint the person who has given the gift. Especially when they will be jumping around like a puppy, giddy with enthusiasm at the anticipation.
He is the gadget man. He has the iPhone, iPhone4, several iPods, BluRay players, HMDI TV, Wii, laptop, Sky+ HD, PSP, DSi etc. He loves a gadget. Anything that takes the effort out of doing, viewing, seeing his entertainment and invariably makes his life easier. He already has his eyes on the next range of TV's we will have to buy to fulfil his gadgetry needs.
I don't mind these items. It keeps him out of my way when I need to get on with stuff. I'm just not overwhelmed by them (until it comes to being able to function any of them when he is out of the house!)
I really am just not that kind of person. It broke my heart to actually purchase and use a sewing machine this year to undertake my sewing and mending jobs that I would love to have the time to do (meticulously) by hand. I just didn't have the time so I gave in.
I like old fashioned things. I like needlecraft's and reading and enjoy them far more than any of the various entertainment contraptions he has in the house. I like the piece and quiet of undertaking my hobbies and the immense satisfaction I get when I complete a project or book.
He just doesn't get it. He cannot understand why I wouldn't want a machine to read a book for me. He probably thinks that it will make his life easier as he won't have to store (yet more) books in his beloved "clean lined" house. I fear he just doesn't get me. Which leaves me reflecting on the way things were.
I like a little bit of homely clutter. If I had my own way (and a spare room!) I'd put bookshelves in there and a comfy chair with a knitting box and I would be in my element.
I wish he could understand the total enjoyment I get from reading a book. In the 5 years we have been together, he has only ever read one book (The DaVinci Code). It was a good book. I read it too. I also jumped on the opportunity to buy him the other 3 books Dan Brown had written at the time with a longing for him to reap the rewards of the written word too. He has never picked any of them up.
Have we really come to a point in society where a real book is dead unless it can be uploaded onto a gadget that will deteriorate our eyesight more so that reading an actual book?
Is it too much to expect the man in my life to know me well enough to appreciate my interests? Or even listen to me when I ask for a specific gift?
I am very happy with my man for the most part. He is my world and he gave me my 3 very beautiful children. I am now worrying with vigour how I gently explain to him my disappointment when the big day comes.
A (very) long time ago I was in a (forbidden) relationship (marriage) to my ex. We were totally wrong for each other in so many ways. All celebrations came and went with very little thought going into my gifts yet somehow he always managed to get them right.
Absolutely spot on. Every time (irritatingly).
I really do not think of him much often but we were together for 7 years so he has left an imprint on my life and my relationship abilities.
He never failed to surprise me when it came to gifts. They ranged from the extravagant (jewelery, holidays and the like) to the small (intimate details were never overlooked, my favourite perfume that I was running out of, new underwear, another addition to my Winnie the Pooh collection etc etc. the list goes on.)
Anyway. Due to (oh soooo) many reasons. We parted company.
Ever since I have never met another male who has been able to match his gift buying abilities.
I question whether Mr Ex was particularly good at buying gifts for me to make up for his complete balls up in every other capacity in our relationship. Alas, I digress.
With Christmas coming I have been very careful to detail to my (crap at buying gifts) husband EXACTLY what I would like to unwrap come the big day. I know we don't have a lot of money and I have explicitly explained that I only expect to receive the one gift from him and the children as a collective. I even emailed him the link to the website that sells them. Not because I am totally unreasonable, ungrateful for any other gift he may buy, but because it is something that I really need. Something that I would have liked a long time ago, however it is a replacement to something I have already had and I have been patient and waited until my old one is dying a slow death. Overall, I have learnt my lesson. Hints just do not work...!
Last night, my husband made a big deal about borrowing my laptop and ordering me a gift from him. (So I already know that he hasn't listened.) I hoped that perhaps he had been super diligent and found them cheaper elsewhere or got a good deal or maybe even had a secret stash of money that I hadn't known about and could afford to buy me more than one gift. He was pleased as punch with himself. He is the man that runs out on my birthday to pick up a card and a gift (if I'm lucky!) and the guy that is frantically buying whatever is left for Christmas or Mothering Sunday. I even can't remember the last time he bought me a Valentines card.
I have just discovered what he has bought me. (My hubby is RUBBISH at keeping secrets and has dropped hints all over the place. He also stupidly ordered it on my amazon account and they sent me a confirmation email....Had I not purchased items from them which I am waiting delivery I probably would not have opened the email. School boy error.)
Regardless...
My hubby has bought me something that I really do not want. We had a conversation about the item last Christmas and I explained my reasons for not wanting one quite explicitly.
I can almost understand the logic behind him purchasing one of these for me:
He knows how much I love to read. However, when I explained last year my reasons for not wanting one, I thought I had been quite specific. I love the touch, smell and feel of a real book.
I admit I don't like surprises, for this specific reason; I don't like to disappoint the person who has given the gift. Especially when they will be jumping around like a puppy, giddy with enthusiasm at the anticipation.
He is the gadget man. He has the iPhone, iPhone4, several iPods, BluRay players, HMDI TV, Wii, laptop, Sky+ HD, PSP, DSi etc. He loves a gadget. Anything that takes the effort out of doing, viewing, seeing his entertainment and invariably makes his life easier. He already has his eyes on the next range of TV's we will have to buy to fulfil his gadgetry needs.
I don't mind these items. It keeps him out of my way when I need to get on with stuff. I'm just not overwhelmed by them (until it comes to being able to function any of them when he is out of the house!)
I really am just not that kind of person. It broke my heart to actually purchase and use a sewing machine this year to undertake my sewing and mending jobs that I would love to have the time to do (meticulously) by hand. I just didn't have the time so I gave in.
I like old fashioned things. I like needlecraft's and reading and enjoy them far more than any of the various entertainment contraptions he has in the house. I like the piece and quiet of undertaking my hobbies and the immense satisfaction I get when I complete a project or book.
He just doesn't get it. He cannot understand why I wouldn't want a machine to read a book for me. He probably thinks that it will make his life easier as he won't have to store (yet more) books in his beloved "clean lined" house. I fear he just doesn't get me. Which leaves me reflecting on the way things were.
I like a little bit of homely clutter. If I had my own way (and a spare room!) I'd put bookshelves in there and a comfy chair with a knitting box and I would be in my element.
I wish he could understand the total enjoyment I get from reading a book. In the 5 years we have been together, he has only ever read one book (The DaVinci Code). It was a good book. I read it too. I also jumped on the opportunity to buy him the other 3 books Dan Brown had written at the time with a longing for him to reap the rewards of the written word too. He has never picked any of them up.
Have we really come to a point in society where a real book is dead unless it can be uploaded onto a gadget that will deteriorate our eyesight more so that reading an actual book?
Is it too much to expect the man in my life to know me well enough to appreciate my interests? Or even listen to me when I ask for a specific gift?
I am very happy with my man for the most part. He is my world and he gave me my 3 very beautiful children. I am now worrying with vigour how I gently explain to him my disappointment when the big day comes.
follow up to : Warning Explicit Content
On re-reading my last post, I feel a little like you may get the wrong idea about my intentions.
I am not being purely selfish in terms of dissatisfaction. The momentous "O" is not where sex always needs to end up.
I love my husband (more than he deserves sometimes) and that does not change as a result of our flagging fornication's.
I am simply immensely frustrated by our lack of passion. Or rather the ability to put passion into it!
Sex has always been a bit of a deal-breaker in previous relationships. With good sex often being the trigger for my not leaving bad relationships quick enough in the past.
I am unsure of how long a relationship/marriage can survive with lacklustre in the pleasure stakes? I'm also rather concerned that this might change my perspective of the man I have pledged to spend the rest of my life with.
Nobody has to read this, it's more like a journal entry..tbc.
I am not being purely selfish in terms of dissatisfaction. The momentous "O" is not where sex always needs to end up.
I love my husband (more than he deserves sometimes) and that does not change as a result of our flagging fornication's.
I am simply immensely frustrated by our lack of passion. Or rather the ability to put passion into it!
Sex has always been a bit of a deal-breaker in previous relationships. With good sex often being the trigger for my not leaving bad relationships quick enough in the past.
I am unsure of how long a relationship/marriage can survive with lacklustre in the pleasure stakes? I'm also rather concerned that this might change my perspective of the man I have pledged to spend the rest of my life with.
Nobody has to read this, it's more like a journal entry..tbc.
Monday, 29 November 2010
Little Boy Lost.
I wrote this back on the 17/10/10:
This Tuesday was one of the most frightening days I have ever experienced in my life. I lost my little boy. Even though he escaped from our house, it is still my fault. I was the responsible parent in charge so there is really only me to blame.
At 2.50pm I made the decision to go upstairs and wake my two youngest children from their nap as we needed to leave to collect my eldest boy from school at 3.15pm.
I woke my middle child first, he is the most difficult child to organise as he is totally unagreeable so I figured he would need the most time. I took him downstairs and got his coat and shoes on. I put him in our living room and closed the stairgate.
I went back upstairs to wake my daughter, who is perfect by comparison. I came back down whilst holding her and realised my front door was open.
It only took a second to realise that so was the stairgate to my living room as I placed my 1yr old daughter the other side of it and closed it firmly.
I ran out of the door only fleetingly acknowledging that my dog had also made a break for it.
I called my son, half expecting him to be messing around in the next door neighbours gardens but I heard nothing. Not a sound.
This is the time of day that my road is particularly busy as everyone rushes to the school at the end of my road.
There is no one there. No clue as to where my child has gone. My first thought is "what if someone has taken him?"
My heart is in my mouth. I realise that I am not breathing and gasp in frantic breath. The question of how long I may have been holidng my breath for doesn't even register.
I run to the end of my cul-de-sac and frantically look from left to right repeatedly looking for a sign, anything that might indicate where my child is. Out of the corner of my eye to my right I clock a small blue car that is stopped rather haphazardly in the middle of the road/turning. "Shit-he's been hit by a car" was my first thought. I run, instinctively in that direction, praying that it is the right one and realise that I am still in my socks. I see an older lady get out of the car and run in the opposite direction. My thoughts aren't on her though. I just want my child.
As I get closer I catch a glimpse of something I want to see but am not entirely sure that it is really there. My sons head bobbing above the line of the car as I am running downhill towards it. I can see the lady is chasing my child and as I reach her car she scoops him up in her arms.
Safe.
As she starts walking toward me I realise that she is also being closely followed by our dog. He is jumping up at the strange lady and in truth I am not sure if he is guarding my most troublesome family member or trying to gowd her into play.
I remember shouting at her to stay where she is as she reaches the road to which I am standing the other side of and out of nowhere a 4x4 comes hurtling around the bend missing my, now giddy at the end of the chase excitement, 1 year old dog by a whisker.
The guy yells some obscenity at us all and speeds off in another direction. I don't hear it, I am purely focused on my child. I want him in my arms.
Aware of the dangers of roads etc. it is paramount I gain control of the dog too.
I crouch down until he comes to my side and grasp him collar. The strangers hands over my baby boy and my emotions catch up with me. Shakily I walk back up the road, completely unaware of the discombobulated mess we look.
I never found the womans name out, but I owe her explicitely for rescuing my child the way she did.
Anything could have happened. I will live with the "what if"'s for the rest of my life.
When I got back to the house I held him for as long as I could without being the crap mother who turns up late to collect her son from school would allow.
I cried. He looked bemused.
I feel immensely lucky.
This Tuesday was one of the most frightening days I have ever experienced in my life. I lost my little boy. Even though he escaped from our house, it is still my fault. I was the responsible parent in charge so there is really only me to blame.
At 2.50pm I made the decision to go upstairs and wake my two youngest children from their nap as we needed to leave to collect my eldest boy from school at 3.15pm.
I woke my middle child first, he is the most difficult child to organise as he is totally unagreeable so I figured he would need the most time. I took him downstairs and got his coat and shoes on. I put him in our living room and closed the stairgate.
I went back upstairs to wake my daughter, who is perfect by comparison. I came back down whilst holding her and realised my front door was open.
It only took a second to realise that so was the stairgate to my living room as I placed my 1yr old daughter the other side of it and closed it firmly.
I ran out of the door only fleetingly acknowledging that my dog had also made a break for it.
I called my son, half expecting him to be messing around in the next door neighbours gardens but I heard nothing. Not a sound.
This is the time of day that my road is particularly busy as everyone rushes to the school at the end of my road.
There is no one there. No clue as to where my child has gone. My first thought is "what if someone has taken him?"
My heart is in my mouth. I realise that I am not breathing and gasp in frantic breath. The question of how long I may have been holidng my breath for doesn't even register.
I run to the end of my cul-de-sac and frantically look from left to right repeatedly looking for a sign, anything that might indicate where my child is. Out of the corner of my eye to my right I clock a small blue car that is stopped rather haphazardly in the middle of the road/turning. "Shit-he's been hit by a car" was my first thought. I run, instinctively in that direction, praying that it is the right one and realise that I am still in my socks. I see an older lady get out of the car and run in the opposite direction. My thoughts aren't on her though. I just want my child.
As I get closer I catch a glimpse of something I want to see but am not entirely sure that it is really there. My sons head bobbing above the line of the car as I am running downhill towards it. I can see the lady is chasing my child and as I reach her car she scoops him up in her arms.
Safe.
As she starts walking toward me I realise that she is also being closely followed by our dog. He is jumping up at the strange lady and in truth I am not sure if he is guarding my most troublesome family member or trying to gowd her into play.
I remember shouting at her to stay where she is as she reaches the road to which I am standing the other side of and out of nowhere a 4x4 comes hurtling around the bend missing my, now giddy at the end of the chase excitement, 1 year old dog by a whisker.
The guy yells some obscenity at us all and speeds off in another direction. I don't hear it, I am purely focused on my child. I want him in my arms.
Aware of the dangers of roads etc. it is paramount I gain control of the dog too.
I crouch down until he comes to my side and grasp him collar. The strangers hands over my baby boy and my emotions catch up with me. Shakily I walk back up the road, completely unaware of the discombobulated mess we look.
I never found the womans name out, but I owe her explicitely for rescuing my child the way she did.
Anything could have happened. I will live with the "what if"'s for the rest of my life.
When I got back to the house I held him for as long as I could without being the crap mother who turns up late to collect her son from school would allow.
I cried. He looked bemused.
I feel immensely lucky.
Warning. Explicit Content. Or lack of...
Even as I type this I am not entirely sure why I am compelled to revel this publically and publish this on my blog. I honestly feel that I cannot ACTUALLY hold this conversation with a real person.
Perhaps I just feel like I need to get this out of my head, in whatever form; speach, written word, whatever, in order that I may somehow make sense of what I am actually feeling and perhaps even get some feedback as to if I am the only one who feels this way.
Ok, here goes. Deep breath.
My relationship with my OH has always been on fastforward. Literally. We have been together for 5 years. We have been married for nearly 4 years. We have 3 children aged 4, 2 and 1.
Needless to say our sex life clearly hasn't ever been a problem.
Until now..
It was during the act of carnal pleasure that I realised that perhaps things aren't as rosy as they once were between hubby and I.
For a while now I have been left feeling a little, how do we say, unsatisfied. There. I've said it. Phew. Glad that's over with.
Now for some explaination...
With 3 children all so young, close together and demanding of our time (which we give unquestionably), getting a chance to get down to business is tricky to say the least. Quite often we have to grab the chance whilst they are asleep and with my 1 year old still in our bedroom it really leaves little opportunity to experiment.
Let me give you the scenario;
One morning my husband wakes up and performs the usual ritual of despatching our children downstairs, putting the TV on to keep them entertained and giving them a snack and a drink before coming back up with a view to satisfying his urges. (Yep passion is dead from that point for me too.)
Pretty much as soon as he sneaks out of bed with the rudamentary "ssshhh, lets go downstairs kids" I am already well aware of what is on the cards. It has become our (his) foreplay! I lay and dread him coming back upstairs knowing that he hasn't got the idea of letting me have a lie-in in mind.
As soon as he pushes the door to, he is straight down to business. His pj bottoms are off as soon as the catch of the door touches. Then the heat is on for how quickly he can get mine off!
This seemed almost acceptable, grabbing the opportunity while we could, up until recently. One day I was suddenly overcome with the need to burst into tears and not from the pleasure he was trying (failing) to bestow on me, it would seem.
I actually felt really embarrased and made my excuses before leaving the room to tend to our (now) screaming child downstairs.
Don't get me wrong, child/tv noise is a huge passion killer! But it wasn't that which was on my mind.
I had realised that for the first time ever I would rather f*ck my vibrator than my husband! (I pray to god he never reads this!)
When did this happen? I find myself asking. And the truth is I am not sure. Our sex life has always been rather passionate and exciting. What changed?
Now I am no thereapist but I am pretty sure it could be a combination of a few things. The first being our little darlings. Not that we don't love them. We adore them. However, they are really all-consuming. We never get a chance to be ourselves and embrace being a couple any more as we are always wearing our mummy and daddy hats. The second being that there is always so little time to embrace anything remotely sexual we have lost the ability to be romantic, to make the other feel special. It's like our sex life is now on fast forward!
Nothing was said then or has been since. When did we gain the ability not to be able to talk about these things?
I really am not sure about how to put this right. I know there is fault on both sides and to be fair, I don't think laying the blame anywhere is going to help.
We have a problem. It has become the elephant in the room...
Perhaps I just feel like I need to get this out of my head, in whatever form; speach, written word, whatever, in order that I may somehow make sense of what I am actually feeling and perhaps even get some feedback as to if I am the only one who feels this way.
Ok, here goes. Deep breath.
My relationship with my OH has always been on fastforward. Literally. We have been together for 5 years. We have been married for nearly 4 years. We have 3 children aged 4, 2 and 1.
Needless to say our sex life clearly hasn't ever been a problem.
Until now..
It was during the act of carnal pleasure that I realised that perhaps things aren't as rosy as they once were between hubby and I.
For a while now I have been left feeling a little, how do we say, unsatisfied. There. I've said it. Phew. Glad that's over with.
Now for some explaination...
With 3 children all so young, close together and demanding of our time (which we give unquestionably), getting a chance to get down to business is tricky to say the least. Quite often we have to grab the chance whilst they are asleep and with my 1 year old still in our bedroom it really leaves little opportunity to experiment.
Let me give you the scenario;
One morning my husband wakes up and performs the usual ritual of despatching our children downstairs, putting the TV on to keep them entertained and giving them a snack and a drink before coming back up with a view to satisfying his urges. (Yep passion is dead from that point for me too.)
Pretty much as soon as he sneaks out of bed with the rudamentary "ssshhh, lets go downstairs kids" I am already well aware of what is on the cards. It has become our (his) foreplay! I lay and dread him coming back upstairs knowing that he hasn't got the idea of letting me have a lie-in in mind.
As soon as he pushes the door to, he is straight down to business. His pj bottoms are off as soon as the catch of the door touches. Then the heat is on for how quickly he can get mine off!
This seemed almost acceptable, grabbing the opportunity while we could, up until recently. One day I was suddenly overcome with the need to burst into tears and not from the pleasure he was trying (failing) to bestow on me, it would seem.
I actually felt really embarrased and made my excuses before leaving the room to tend to our (now) screaming child downstairs.
Don't get me wrong, child/tv noise is a huge passion killer! But it wasn't that which was on my mind.
I had realised that for the first time ever I would rather f*ck my vibrator than my husband! (I pray to god he never reads this!)
When did this happen? I find myself asking. And the truth is I am not sure. Our sex life has always been rather passionate and exciting. What changed?
Now I am no thereapist but I am pretty sure it could be a combination of a few things. The first being our little darlings. Not that we don't love them. We adore them. However, they are really all-consuming. We never get a chance to be ourselves and embrace being a couple any more as we are always wearing our mummy and daddy hats. The second being that there is always so little time to embrace anything remotely sexual we have lost the ability to be romantic, to make the other feel special. It's like our sex life is now on fast forward!
Nothing was said then or has been since. When did we gain the ability not to be able to talk about these things?
I really am not sure about how to put this right. I know there is fault on both sides and to be fair, I don't think laying the blame anywhere is going to help.
We have a problem. It has become the elephant in the room...
Tuesday, 16 November 2010
Family?
Pronunciation:/ˈfamɪli, -m(ə)l-/noun (plural families)
What is your definition of family?
Wikipedia "In human context, a family (from Latin: familiare) is a group of people affiliated by consanguinity, affinity, or co-residence. In most societies it is the principal institution for the socialization of children. Extended from the human "family unit" by affinity, economy, culture, tradition, honor, and friendship are concepts of family that are metaphorical, or that grow increasingly inclusive extending to nationhood and humanism. There are also concepts of family that break with tradition within particular societies, or those that are transplanted via migration to flourish or else cease within their new societies. As a unit of socialisation and a basic institution key to the structure of society, the family is the object of analysis for sociologists of the family. Genealogy is a field which aims to trace family lineages through history. In science, the term "family" has come to be used as a means to classify groups of objects as being closely and exclusively related. In the study of animals it has been found that many species form groups that have similarities to human "family"—often called "packs."
Oxford Dictionary: [treated as singular or plural] a group consisting of two parents and their children living together as a unita group of people related by blood or marriage:
- Friends and family can provide support
Well I am simply intrigued by this last footnote.
What is the deal with famillies?
My family consists of myself, my husband and our 3 children all living in domestic bliss (yea right!) in semi suburbia. So all fairly a-typical so far.
As we branch up the family tree a little things start to get a bit weird. It has long been my suggestion that the monumental f*ck up's the rest of our 'family's' have made are the reasons why my husband and I were pushed together within this crazy cosmos, why neither of us wants to bring our children up following the examples set by us and why the two of us live in a perpetually fragile state of mind.
Now I know many people reading this will think I am being disrespectful to my family. If this is already the case then read no further. This is not disrespect; it's truth. Stone cold truth. It is also why I aspire to be everything my family are not.
We'll start with my parents. This consists of my mother & my step-father (whom mother is seperated from), My father and his partner. The number of 'partners' each parent has had in the past 28 years since they split is relatively high. Lest not forget they got married when mother was pregnant with me and were divorced by the time I was 2. Not quite a match made in heaven.
My mother was a bit of a wild child and by all accounts has spent the last 13 years trying to recapture this youth. She is now pushing 50 and really needs to grow up and accept that her youth is over. She has one sibling. She had numerous fathers.
My father comes from a large family. He is 1 of eight children. The second born but the first boy. Somewhat favoured. He was going through the rudementary wild stages when he met me mother and hence fell in love with her hedonistic tendancies and free spirited approach to life. A breath of fresh air from the drudgery of work, work and well more work that he had witnessed of his own father as a child. Clearly the novelty wore off when mothers attitude to life involved another man. Which I remember..
So wholed up in a council flat on a notorious council estate back in the 80's my father compelted his appreticeship and worked hard as a tradesman. He expected to come home to domestic bliss, dinner on the table, baby in bed and wife with her legs open (this last is a assumption on my part).
My parents are somewhat unique in their complete inability to be remotely interested in raising a child yet live in complete ignorance of their inability. Hmmm.
There hope for me yet? As for support. Yea right!
What is your definition of family?
Wikipedia "In human context, a family (from Latin: familiare) is a group of people affiliated by consanguinity, affinity, or co-residence. In most societies it is the principal institution for the socialization of children. Extended from the human "family unit" by affinity, economy, culture, tradition, honor, and friendship are concepts of family that are metaphorical, or that grow increasingly inclusive extending to nationhood and humanism. There are also concepts of family that break with tradition within particular societies, or those that are transplanted via migration to flourish or else cease within their new societies. As a unit of socialisation and a basic institution key to the structure of society, the family is the object of analysis for sociologists of the family. Genealogy is a field which aims to trace family lineages through history. In science, the term "family" has come to be used as a means to classify groups of objects as being closely and exclusively related. In the study of animals it has been found that many species form groups that have similarities to human "family"—often called "packs."
Oxford Dictionary: [treated as singular or plural] a group consisting of two parents and their children living together as a unita group of people related by blood or marriage:
- Friends and family can provide support
Well I am simply intrigued by this last footnote.
What is the deal with famillies?
My family consists of myself, my husband and our 3 children all living in domestic bliss (yea right!) in semi suburbia. So all fairly a-typical so far.
As we branch up the family tree a little things start to get a bit weird. It has long been my suggestion that the monumental f*ck up's the rest of our 'family's' have made are the reasons why my husband and I were pushed together within this crazy cosmos, why neither of us wants to bring our children up following the examples set by us and why the two of us live in a perpetually fragile state of mind.
Now I know many people reading this will think I am being disrespectful to my family. If this is already the case then read no further. This is not disrespect; it's truth. Stone cold truth. It is also why I aspire to be everything my family are not.
We'll start with my parents. This consists of my mother & my step-father (whom mother is seperated from), My father and his partner. The number of 'partners' each parent has had in the past 28 years since they split is relatively high. Lest not forget they got married when mother was pregnant with me and were divorced by the time I was 2. Not quite a match made in heaven.
My mother was a bit of a wild child and by all accounts has spent the last 13 years trying to recapture this youth. She is now pushing 50 and really needs to grow up and accept that her youth is over. She has one sibling. She had numerous fathers.
My father comes from a large family. He is 1 of eight children. The second born but the first boy. Somewhat favoured. He was going through the rudementary wild stages when he met me mother and hence fell in love with her hedonistic tendancies and free spirited approach to life. A breath of fresh air from the drudgery of work, work and well more work that he had witnessed of his own father as a child. Clearly the novelty wore off when mothers attitude to life involved another man. Which I remember..
So wholed up in a council flat on a notorious council estate back in the 80's my father compelted his appreticeship and worked hard as a tradesman. He expected to come home to domestic bliss, dinner on the table, baby in bed and wife with her legs open (this last is a assumption on my part).
My parents are somewhat unique in their complete inability to be remotely interested in raising a child yet live in complete ignorance of their inability. Hmmm.
There hope for me yet? As for support. Yea right!
Diet GLORIOUS diet...
...I'm totally not convinced but I am willing to actually give this a proper shot.
I need to lose weight. I have had 3 beautiful children across 4 years and although they still get some of the blame for my weight inconsistency, deep down I know that a lot of it is down to my crap diet and incredibly sweet tooth!
I'm not obese. However, my BMI level currently resides in the dangerous zone so something has got to be done.
I have bitten the bullett and joined an online slimming club (my second attempt this year). I have 10 months to lose 3st.
You see, it is my 30th birthday next year and my hubby has kindly agreed to fund a lovely holiday abroad in favour of having a party that the kids can't attend. (Those who know me will know and understand that my children are my life and I believe that once you have kids they are part of all of life's milestones and I would really want them to be there to share in this one).
It will be the first bikini holiday my husband and I have EVER been on together and the first time that the children will go abroad. I have a lot riding on this.
We'll see.
The good news is that I am not hungry and I am already losing weight! (hooray!) I'll keep you posted!
I need to lose weight. I have had 3 beautiful children across 4 years and although they still get some of the blame for my weight inconsistency, deep down I know that a lot of it is down to my crap diet and incredibly sweet tooth!
I'm not obese. However, my BMI level currently resides in the dangerous zone so something has got to be done.
I have bitten the bullett and joined an online slimming club (my second attempt this year). I have 10 months to lose 3st.
You see, it is my 30th birthday next year and my hubby has kindly agreed to fund a lovely holiday abroad in favour of having a party that the kids can't attend. (Those who know me will know and understand that my children are my life and I believe that once you have kids they are part of all of life's milestones and I would really want them to be there to share in this one).
It will be the first bikini holiday my husband and I have EVER been on together and the first time that the children will go abroad. I have a lot riding on this.
We'll see.
The good news is that I am not hungry and I am already losing weight! (hooray!) I'll keep you posted!
Friday, 24 September 2010
Please sir, can I have some more?
A good friend of mine has recently published this blog:
http://lifethruasippycup.blogspot.com/2010/09/lifes-little-decisions.html
I can actually relate to what she is saying.
For all the talk and bravado, Hubby has never gone through with his 'promise' to have the snip following the birth of our third child.
During labour and immediately thereafter I was adamant. No More.
Three months later my mind was changed and Hubby admitted, whilst hideously pie-eyed at a wedding, that he too would love a fourth (I have witnesses!).
I'm not sure where we will go with this. I am sure I am going to give my body a break at least after all, 3 babies in four years is more than enough to put one womb through.
However, I sneakily suspect there is a possibility of having an addiction to having babies. I love them. I wanted to have them. I have had 3 very different babies, 1 of which was so immensely difficult (and still can have moments) that my marriage nearly broke down and my husband really did have a breakdown.
After all of that, I know I would still like to have another one! I love being a mummy. It is by far the best job in the world.
Maybe it's the thought of 'even numbers' or my own parents complete balls up attempt at raising me that makes me yearn to be better than them. To achieve the dream family that I always craved as a child. It might even be down to my being an only child. (Dare I even suggest it is anything to do with my undying love for my husband to eternally reproduce for him!) Maybe, just maybe, there is a hint of not being able to stop.
There are of course many factors that need to be taken into account. The first being that we would need to move house. Our 3 bed terrace is far from accommodating the five of us let alone when 5 become 6. This in itself is a huge stumbling block as financially this is totally unfeasible for a few years at least.
So unlike my friends sippy cup view, this option is still available to me. Given that I need to wait for my body to repair itself and for the financial stability to comfortably move home without bankrupting ourselves I wonder will I then be too old? Will my children be too old to comfortably accept a younger sibling given they are all so close together and tightly bonded and then would it have to be two more?
For the option to still be there I am very grateful but I'm also a little scared that enough will never be enough.
http://lifethruasippycup.blogspot.com/2010/09/lifes-little-decisions.html
I can actually relate to what she is saying.
For all the talk and bravado, Hubby has never gone through with his 'promise' to have the snip following the birth of our third child.
During labour and immediately thereafter I was adamant. No More.
Three months later my mind was changed and Hubby admitted, whilst hideously pie-eyed at a wedding, that he too would love a fourth (I have witnesses!).
I'm not sure where we will go with this. I am sure I am going to give my body a break at least after all, 3 babies in four years is more than enough to put one womb through.
However, I sneakily suspect there is a possibility of having an addiction to having babies. I love them. I wanted to have them. I have had 3 very different babies, 1 of which was so immensely difficult (and still can have moments) that my marriage nearly broke down and my husband really did have a breakdown.
After all of that, I know I would still like to have another one! I love being a mummy. It is by far the best job in the world.
Maybe it's the thought of 'even numbers' or my own parents complete balls up attempt at raising me that makes me yearn to be better than them. To achieve the dream family that I always craved as a child. It might even be down to my being an only child. (Dare I even suggest it is anything to do with my undying love for my husband to eternally reproduce for him!) Maybe, just maybe, there is a hint of not being able to stop.
There are of course many factors that need to be taken into account. The first being that we would need to move house. Our 3 bed terrace is far from accommodating the five of us let alone when 5 become 6. This in itself is a huge stumbling block as financially this is totally unfeasible for a few years at least.
So unlike my friends sippy cup view, this option is still available to me. Given that I need to wait for my body to repair itself and for the financial stability to comfortably move home without bankrupting ourselves I wonder will I then be too old? Will my children be too old to comfortably accept a younger sibling given they are all so close together and tightly bonded and then would it have to be two more?
For the option to still be there I am very grateful but I'm also a little scared that enough will never be enough.
Thursday, 23 September 2010
Christmas!
Help. Christmas is upon me!
Well, actually it's not quite as it is only September. However, the supermarkets are starting to dedicate an entire aisle to festive food and every other advert on the tele is focused on pester power by advertising all the new and wonderful toys and games that children will no doubt be wanting from the big white bearded man. Anyone would think this festive event was next month not at the other end of this quarter!
My problem with this is that we have only just celebrated the last of our birthdays. The birthdays in this household are Boo- June, Monster - June, Hubby - July, Big T - August and finally mine in September. Pester power in this house began before my birthday this year and I am actually already fed up of having to explain why they can't have 100's of pounds worth of new toys because they are there, thrust into my children's faces because they have only just had new toys for their birthdays.
We don't spoil our children, we provide for them. We realistically look at what they have before deciding if they need extra toys to add to something big (train sets, race tracks, little people etc) and we look at whether they need anything new depending on age and ability. We compile a list of what they would like along with things they need (clothes, slippers, PJ's, underwear, bedding etc.) and let people choose what they want to buy for them so nobody feels like they have to buy something for £30 or more when their budget is only £5. The children NEVER get everything on their lists. We have tried really hard to educate our children to be grateful for what they get and 9 times out of 10 they prefer the smaller, cheaper toys to the more expensive ones anyway!
I just feel really pressured this year to indulge and splurge and to prepare all of the present buying before I am ready to do so. Friends of mine are already doing (and completing) their Christmas shopping and I am still trying to get my head around the change in season and the start of a new school year.
I am all for being prepared and spreading the cost but surely this should be at a pace that I am ready to do so and not when all the greedy business men decide they need to boost their income.
Our situation this year means that we will not have a lot of money to indulge in gifts as the children were very lucky to receive quite a lot for their birthdays in recent months so we have opted to indulge in the experience this year by taking the children on a small UK holiday packed with lots of fun festive activities and create some wonderful family memories that we hope will last longer than the noisy, battery eating contraption that 'Auntie Edna decides to posts 3 months later than Christmas to avoid the Christmas rush' to them. (This is something else that really makes me cross. If you're going to give a gift at least get it there on time!)
Christmas, for me, is about families. It is about watching my child in their Christmas production, getting up early and going to church, spending time with those that you love not about how many gifts are under the tree. It is about giving to others. It is about creating memories. It is about eating too much and playing silly games and taking photo's of each other dressed in your best (or worst hand knitted jumpers!) or slouched in your jammies all day watching movies. As long as we are all together and happy I don't really care who bought what. I just want to see the beautiful smiles of my children as we laugh and have fun as a family.
Most of all it is about creating a family memory. So thank you very much Mr Shop-Owner but this year we will not pressured by your consumer targeted marketing pressure to buy tons of plastic tat and spend our whole budget on crap we simply don't need. We will already have the best gift of all and it won't cost anything. We will have each other and that is what we will be celebrating and be thankful for this year!
Well, actually it's not quite as it is only September. However, the supermarkets are starting to dedicate an entire aisle to festive food and every other advert on the tele is focused on pester power by advertising all the new and wonderful toys and games that children will no doubt be wanting from the big white bearded man. Anyone would think this festive event was next month not at the other end of this quarter!
My problem with this is that we have only just celebrated the last of our birthdays. The birthdays in this household are Boo- June, Monster - June, Hubby - July, Big T - August and finally mine in September. Pester power in this house began before my birthday this year and I am actually already fed up of having to explain why they can't have 100's of pounds worth of new toys because they are there, thrust into my children's faces because they have only just had new toys for their birthdays.
We don't spoil our children, we provide for them. We realistically look at what they have before deciding if they need extra toys to add to something big (train sets, race tracks, little people etc) and we look at whether they need anything new depending on age and ability. We compile a list of what they would like along with things they need (clothes, slippers, PJ's, underwear, bedding etc.) and let people choose what they want to buy for them so nobody feels like they have to buy something for £30 or more when their budget is only £5. The children NEVER get everything on their lists. We have tried really hard to educate our children to be grateful for what they get and 9 times out of 10 they prefer the smaller, cheaper toys to the more expensive ones anyway!
I just feel really pressured this year to indulge and splurge and to prepare all of the present buying before I am ready to do so. Friends of mine are already doing (and completing) their Christmas shopping and I am still trying to get my head around the change in season and the start of a new school year.
I am all for being prepared and spreading the cost but surely this should be at a pace that I am ready to do so and not when all the greedy business men decide they need to boost their income.
Our situation this year means that we will not have a lot of money to indulge in gifts as the children were very lucky to receive quite a lot for their birthdays in recent months so we have opted to indulge in the experience this year by taking the children on a small UK holiday packed with lots of fun festive activities and create some wonderful family memories that we hope will last longer than the noisy, battery eating contraption that 'Auntie Edna decides to posts 3 months later than Christmas to avoid the Christmas rush' to them. (This is something else that really makes me cross. If you're going to give a gift at least get it there on time!)
Most of all it is about creating a family memory. So thank you very much Mr Shop-Owner but this year we will not pressured by your consumer targeted marketing pressure to buy tons of plastic tat and spend our whole budget on crap we simply don't need. We will already have the best gift of all and it won't cost anything. We will have each other and that is what we will be celebrating and be thankful for this year!
Friday, 17 September 2010
Sleep and deprivation
A little while ago I can remember being able to sleep. I could sleep in until whatever time I liked or I could stay up all night out of choice.
Oh how the tide changes.
In a heartbeat my sleeping abilities changed. Drastically. Almost overnight if you like!
Once pregnant, I was uncomfortable and hot. Once my little T arrived, sleep was for the weak. Many a night we spent up doing the night-shift together. Taking it in turns to change the moses basket after my little darling threw up most of his feed (this now has the tag of "reflux" which wasn't a term in vogue when he was born!), or our bed as we were so bleary eyed it got pee'd on! I would feel guilty that the baby woke daddy and he would feel guilty that I should have to do it all. So we both did. Fair's fair.
As luck would have it by 4 weeks old we could get him to sleep an 8 hour shift. By 3 months we could get that 8+hr shift going through the night and then we were laughing. Even teething didn't really seem to disturb him too much sleep wise.
Until just after his 1st birthday that was. Baby number two had sent us a little blue line message and then the fun and games with pregnancy insomnia started pretty much immediately. Working part-time left me flat out exhausted and day time naps were a delight. Night time brought a new realm of uncomfortableness.
We introduced lots of pillows into the bed. The largest was nicknamed "Pedro" by my husband as it took the place of him in the bed!
The most difficult pregnancy comfort wise was followed by a baby that just wouldn't sleep. Colic was the bain of our lives and our marriage took a serious dent. This child was breaking us. Or was it the sheer lack of sleep? At 12 weeks we prayed for the day our child would sleep, wind free, throughout the night. It never came. I was broken through being up nearly all night with a baby that wouldn't be soothed by his father and up all day with my now toddler energised eldest son.
When J was only 4 months old, we had another blue line event. Yes I was pregnant with our third child. Not just a little bit pregnant either. Working back, baby 3 was conceived when J was little more than 8 weeks old. How we had time to do THAT I'll never know. The opportunities to sleep were far outweighing the need for any other nocturnal activities!
My third pregnancy was a little bit of a revelation. Not only did my second born suddenly accept and bond with his father, but my mind and body slept through the discomforts of pregnancy. I'll never know if either had a choice in the matter or if the over exertion of 2 lively little boys left me with no choice but a coma-like state at the end of each day.
I have debated in the past that perhaps, just perhaps, the hormonal differences between carrying boys and girls may have had an effect on the different pregnancies I experienced. During this pregnancy, however, I didn't care. I got to sleep. My second son didn't, and neither did my husband.
When baby no 3 arrived, a girl and named V. She came home the following day and low and behold my second born slept. through. the. night. OH HALLELUJAH!
So did she. Well, until 5 am but who's fussy?
So the subtle differences in baby's sleeping habits certainly realm at different ends of the spectrum. It is evident that no 2 babies are alike. The waking habits are also very different. My eldest is up with the lark, day in, day out. Nothing can make this child sleep in.
Four years on, nothing has changed. Apart from one small but significant factor. He now asks to go to bed when his is tired. This is certainly a revelation on my part having battled them all into bed for most of their tiny little existence. My lovely daughter will happily indicate that she is tired or fall asleep on a clothes line, idyllic springs to mind. My boys need constant stimulation and activities and still never tire. Until now.
I love school.
Oh how the tide changes.
In a heartbeat my sleeping abilities changed. Drastically. Almost overnight if you like!
Once pregnant, I was uncomfortable and hot. Once my little T arrived, sleep was for the weak. Many a night we spent up doing the night-shift together. Taking it in turns to change the moses basket after my little darling threw up most of his feed (this now has the tag of "reflux" which wasn't a term in vogue when he was born!), or our bed as we were so bleary eyed it got pee'd on! I would feel guilty that the baby woke daddy and he would feel guilty that I should have to do it all. So we both did. Fair's fair.
As luck would have it by 4 weeks old we could get him to sleep an 8 hour shift. By 3 months we could get that 8+hr shift going through the night and then we were laughing. Even teething didn't really seem to disturb him too much sleep wise.
Until just after his 1st birthday that was. Baby number two had sent us a little blue line message and then the fun and games with pregnancy insomnia started pretty much immediately. Working part-time left me flat out exhausted and day time naps were a delight. Night time brought a new realm of uncomfortableness.
We introduced lots of pillows into the bed. The largest was nicknamed "Pedro" by my husband as it took the place of him in the bed!
The most difficult pregnancy comfort wise was followed by a baby that just wouldn't sleep. Colic was the bain of our lives and our marriage took a serious dent. This child was breaking us. Or was it the sheer lack of sleep? At 12 weeks we prayed for the day our child would sleep, wind free, throughout the night. It never came. I was broken through being up nearly all night with a baby that wouldn't be soothed by his father and up all day with my now toddler energised eldest son.
When J was only 4 months old, we had another blue line event. Yes I was pregnant with our third child. Not just a little bit pregnant either. Working back, baby 3 was conceived when J was little more than 8 weeks old. How we had time to do THAT I'll never know. The opportunities to sleep were far outweighing the need for any other nocturnal activities!
My third pregnancy was a little bit of a revelation. Not only did my second born suddenly accept and bond with his father, but my mind and body slept through the discomforts of pregnancy. I'll never know if either had a choice in the matter or if the over exertion of 2 lively little boys left me with no choice but a coma-like state at the end of each day.
I have debated in the past that perhaps, just perhaps, the hormonal differences between carrying boys and girls may have had an effect on the different pregnancies I experienced. During this pregnancy, however, I didn't care. I got to sleep. My second son didn't, and neither did my husband.
When baby no 3 arrived, a girl and named V. She came home the following day and low and behold my second born slept. through. the. night. OH HALLELUJAH!
So did she. Well, until 5 am but who's fussy?
So the subtle differences in baby's sleeping habits certainly realm at different ends of the spectrum. It is evident that no 2 babies are alike. The waking habits are also very different. My eldest is up with the lark, day in, day out. Nothing can make this child sleep in.
Four years on, nothing has changed. Apart from one small but significant factor. He now asks to go to bed when his is tired. This is certainly a revelation on my part having battled them all into bed for most of their tiny little existence. My lovely daughter will happily indicate that she is tired or fall asleep on a clothes line, idyllic springs to mind. My boys need constant stimulation and activities and still never tire. Until now.
I love school.
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Seriously. Just go away!
I don't know what it is about my neighbours. They seriously have their heads stuffed up their own backsides.
I live in a bog standard, 3 bedroom, mid terraced house in suburbia. It doesn't have many frills, and barely keeps us dry.
My neighbours mostly have the same. Give or take, mid/end terrace.
So why oh why do they insist on keeping up with the Jones'??
We all have a modest living. We all live on the same road. Yet I am the only one who is relatively down to earth.
Get over yourselves.
Don't get me wrong. We are lucky to own our own home, albeit falling down around our ears and in desperate, constant need of decoration/restoration/demolition (delete as applicable). Some of us manage it on a moderate household income with 3 very hungry little mouths to feed. But we don't think ourselves above this area or everybody else.
We bought our home because it was in the right catchment area for the school we wanted our son to go to and because at the time it was big enough for our little family to grow in. (2 children in 3 years later we have now outgrown it!) Surely, at that stage that was an educated decision for the best of our child?
Never have we thought of ourselves as better than anyone else in this area but you (plural!!!) all think you're above and beyond it.
Neighbour A lives next door. We are adjoined. They are really noisy and inconsiderate to us having small children. They have just got married in a big lavish affair which they have borrowed money to the hilt to pay for and will have to pay off for at least the next 10 years. Their home is fully decorated (albeit bodged by the half wit husband who does stuff to get her off his back.) She made him redecorate their WHOLE house to accommodate some friends they had met on holiday coming to stay FOR ONE NIGHT.
Might I remind you neighbour A that the house that you live in, in the area that you constantly put down, you have in fact lived in since you were 11. When it was a council owned property that you were housed in. Your parent bought it when the 'right to buy' scheme came about for a MINIMUM amount. Not the premium we paid for ours at the height of the housing boom.
And neighbour B lives 2 doors away (the other way), They bought this home as their first property together when he moved here from Australia. This woman also wanders around with her nose stuck in the air like her poo doesn't stink and actually thinks herself a better parent than I. (I don't profess to be better than anyone in the parenting stakes, I just parent my children in the best way possible which I believe will nurture my children in level headed adults.) You see neighbour B had her first child as I had my second born. You could see the mocking looks at my struggle to deal with 2 young children, leaving the house not caring if I had straightened my hair, ironed my jeans or bothered with mascara and completely exhausted with a newborn with severe colic and as I found out later I was pregnant when he was only 8 weeks old so no wonder I was so bloody tired. She left the house almost perfectly manicured, hair always done, attended all the mum and baby groups and breastfeeding in public wherever she got the opportunity while looking down her nose at me bottle feeding my child. I will never apologise for it. I have been the mummy of one and yes, having a child is NEVER easy. The adjustment from 0 to 1 is possibly the most difficult as you have to relearn things about yourself and come to terms with your previous selfish ways and adapt to being selfless. It is far easier to get out of the house when there is only two of you to get ready.
When my 3rd child arrived. Oh she had a field day.
Then she announces that she is pregnant with her second.
Oh yes, you can imagine that I allowed myself a small smug smile.
Needless to say, the second pregnancy was difficult. She did not bloom as she had with her first (who does!) and found it more and more difficult with an effervescent 2 year old to run around after. It's not easy is it.
She never admitted that she had been wrong.
What really has got my goat is that both of these neighbours are now moving house. Both are moving to the same road. 3 doors away from each other (again!) and both still look down their nose at my home, life, children, car, appearance with the same level of disdain. They both know that we cannot afford to move at this time and they rub our noses in it at every opportunity.
To you both I would like to say: Life is too short to worry about what my house, car, appearance look like. I live my life to the fullest for my children. We have fun together as a family and we have more love in our lives than you can ever hope to achieve. It isn't false or on the pretence that it is better than anybody else. It is real, honest love. It is love that makes this world go around not money. Or borrowed money for that matter. You really shouldn't judge other people based on appearances. Neither of you knows what happens in our home when our door is closed. Neither of you have understood when you made your judgements what it is like to walk in my shoes. Neither of you has the right to belittle me and my family for our monetary capacity.
I live in a bog standard, 3 bedroom, mid terraced house in suburbia. It doesn't have many frills, and barely keeps us dry.
My neighbours mostly have the same. Give or take, mid/end terrace.
So why oh why do they insist on keeping up with the Jones'??
We all have a modest living. We all live on the same road. Yet I am the only one who is relatively down to earth.
Get over yourselves.
Don't get me wrong. We are lucky to own our own home, albeit falling down around our ears and in desperate, constant need of decoration/restoration/demolition (delete as applicable). Some of us manage it on a moderate household income with 3 very hungry little mouths to feed. But we don't think ourselves above this area or everybody else.
We bought our home because it was in the right catchment area for the school we wanted our son to go to and because at the time it was big enough for our little family to grow in. (2 children in 3 years later we have now outgrown it!) Surely, at that stage that was an educated decision for the best of our child?
Never have we thought of ourselves as better than anyone else in this area but you (plural!!!) all think you're above and beyond it.
Neighbour A lives next door. We are adjoined. They are really noisy and inconsiderate to us having small children. They have just got married in a big lavish affair which they have borrowed money to the hilt to pay for and will have to pay off for at least the next 10 years. Their home is fully decorated (albeit bodged by the half wit husband who does stuff to get her off his back.) She made him redecorate their WHOLE house to accommodate some friends they had met on holiday coming to stay FOR ONE NIGHT.
Might I remind you neighbour A that the house that you live in, in the area that you constantly put down, you have in fact lived in since you were 11. When it was a council owned property that you were housed in. Your parent bought it when the 'right to buy' scheme came about for a MINIMUM amount. Not the premium we paid for ours at the height of the housing boom.
And neighbour B lives 2 doors away (the other way), They bought this home as their first property together when he moved here from Australia. This woman also wanders around with her nose stuck in the air like her poo doesn't stink and actually thinks herself a better parent than I. (I don't profess to be better than anyone in the parenting stakes, I just parent my children in the best way possible which I believe will nurture my children in level headed adults.) You see neighbour B had her first child as I had my second born. You could see the mocking looks at my struggle to deal with 2 young children, leaving the house not caring if I had straightened my hair, ironed my jeans or bothered with mascara and completely exhausted with a newborn with severe colic and as I found out later I was pregnant when he was only 8 weeks old so no wonder I was so bloody tired. She left the house almost perfectly manicured, hair always done, attended all the mum and baby groups and breastfeeding in public wherever she got the opportunity while looking down her nose at me bottle feeding my child. I will never apologise for it. I have been the mummy of one and yes, having a child is NEVER easy. The adjustment from 0 to 1 is possibly the most difficult as you have to relearn things about yourself and come to terms with your previous selfish ways and adapt to being selfless. It is far easier to get out of the house when there is only two of you to get ready.
When my 3rd child arrived. Oh she had a field day.
Then she announces that she is pregnant with her second.
Oh yes, you can imagine that I allowed myself a small smug smile.
Needless to say, the second pregnancy was difficult. She did not bloom as she had with her first (who does!) and found it more and more difficult with an effervescent 2 year old to run around after. It's not easy is it.
She never admitted that she had been wrong.
What really has got my goat is that both of these neighbours are now moving house. Both are moving to the same road. 3 doors away from each other (again!) and both still look down their nose at my home, life, children, car, appearance with the same level of disdain. They both know that we cannot afford to move at this time and they rub our noses in it at every opportunity.
To you both I would like to say: Life is too short to worry about what my house, car, appearance look like. I live my life to the fullest for my children. We have fun together as a family and we have more love in our lives than you can ever hope to achieve. It isn't false or on the pretence that it is better than anybody else. It is real, honest love. It is love that makes this world go around not money. Or borrowed money for that matter. You really shouldn't judge other people based on appearances. Neither of you knows what happens in our home when our door is closed. Neither of you have understood when you made your judgements what it is like to walk in my shoes. Neither of you has the right to belittle me and my family for our monetary capacity.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Domesticity
I do not live in a typical domestic bliss.
My life is organised chaos.
I have 3 children. It has to be.
What I really do not understand is when the shift in the balance occurred?
Ok fair enough. Women burned their bra's for equality and to be able to vote, own property, inherit etc.
I can accept that this was a necessary protest in order to change the ways of the world.
What I don't get is why when women are now socially equal (as long as you don't compare salaries) we are still expected to raise children including all the socialisation and early years development that is required to raise a 'normal' child, run a house including basically doing all the housework, deal with all the paperwork, deal with all the money, do the DIY, be an active participant in all the voluntary parent organised events at EACH of the schools/clubs/community groups that your children attend as well as be expected to work to earn money and not be allowed the opportunity to moan about feeling a little bit tired.
Don't get me wrong. My husband works. Hard. And does long hours as well as overtime and 24 hours shifts to help make ends meet. (and they don't often meet!) but he comes home from work in the evening and sits on his bum from when the children go to bed until I nudge him to wake up and tell him to go up to bed and sleep.
While I run around like a lunatic cooking, cleaning, sewing, repairing, painting, fixing, ironing, cleaning out the 7 pets that we own, washing, drying, emptying bins as well as checking the children, tending to them if they cry, doing all the paperwork, paying bills, shopping, learning and working until I collapse into bed aching from top to toe.
When did that become equal?
My life is organised chaos.
I have 3 children. It has to be.
What I really do not understand is when the shift in the balance occurred?
Ok fair enough. Women burned their bra's for equality and to be able to vote, own property, inherit etc.
I can accept that this was a necessary protest in order to change the ways of the world.
What I don't get is why when women are now socially equal (as long as you don't compare salaries) we are still expected to raise children including all the socialisation and early years development that is required to raise a 'normal' child, run a house including basically doing all the housework, deal with all the paperwork, deal with all the money, do the DIY, be an active participant in all the voluntary parent organised events at EACH of the schools/clubs/community groups that your children attend as well as be expected to work to earn money and not be allowed the opportunity to moan about feeling a little bit tired.
Don't get me wrong. My husband works. Hard. And does long hours as well as overtime and 24 hours shifts to help make ends meet. (and they don't often meet!) but he comes home from work in the evening and sits on his bum from when the children go to bed until I nudge him to wake up and tell him to go up to bed and sleep.
While I run around like a lunatic cooking, cleaning, sewing, repairing, painting, fixing, ironing, cleaning out the 7 pets that we own, washing, drying, emptying bins as well as checking the children, tending to them if they cry, doing all the paperwork, paying bills, shopping, learning and working until I collapse into bed aching from top to toe.
When did that become equal?
THE 3 R'S - Read wRite and Remember
My lovely little man is not the kind of child to be sit and 'shown' how to do something. He is quickly becoming a real 'boy'. All action, adventure and running, bouncing and jumping!
His second week of school has been traumatic to say the least. I have had to peel him off my leg each morning as he runs through a list of excuses as to why he can't stay there without me.
So, for him to sit quietly with his "little drawing cards" as he calls them and actually sit and write over the the pre-dotted lines in the shape of letters and declare "look mummy, do you know what that says? It says train!"
And he is right. He has actually sat and written over the dots and written the word "train" and is very proud of himself.
I am ever so very much proud too!
His second week of school has been traumatic to say the least. I have had to peel him off my leg each morning as he runs through a list of excuses as to why he can't stay there without me.
So, for him to sit quietly with his "little drawing cards" as he calls them and actually sit and write over the the pre-dotted lines in the shape of letters and declare "look mummy, do you know what that says? It says train!"
And he is right. He has actually sat and written over the dots and written the word "train" and is very proud of himself.
I am ever so very much proud too!
Friendships
My role in society has somewhat changed over the years and it has left me wondering where I really fit?
As a child I was always a target for bullies. I was moved around a lot. I didn't finish any stage of education at one particular school, it was always split between at least two. I never had any real friends. I didn't fit. Anywhere.
As a teen I started to make acquaintances. No real 'best friend' though. ' Best friends came and went.
Then I met Mr X. He became my world. I don't think he particularly like me either. I know his friends hated that I got to spend so much time with him. It didn't last.
After Mr X. I started to find my own sense of self. Developed my own (albeit flawed) personality. I discovered who I was, what I liked and my freedom. I learned to love myself.
It is only really then that I started to make 'friends'. Not necessarily the right sort of friends mind you.
Almost certainly damaged by past experiences, I found it difficult to hold onto friends. Mostly because I am overly analytical about everything!
Moving away helped. A lot. Funny that something that I regarded as hindrance as a child was now my saviour?
Having my children has helped open up a new spectrum of people to interact with. Many of whom I would not have considered worthy before.
Are any of these people friends?
At what stage does someone become a real friend?
As a child I was always a target for bullies. I was moved around a lot. I didn't finish any stage of education at one particular school, it was always split between at least two. I never had any real friends. I didn't fit. Anywhere.
As a teen I started to make acquaintances. No real 'best friend' though. ' Best friends came and went.
Then I met Mr X. He became my world. I don't think he particularly like me either. I know his friends hated that I got to spend so much time with him. It didn't last.
After Mr X. I started to find my own sense of self. Developed my own (albeit flawed) personality. I discovered who I was, what I liked and my freedom. I learned to love myself.
It is only really then that I started to make 'friends'. Not necessarily the right sort of friends mind you.
Almost certainly damaged by past experiences, I found it difficult to hold onto friends. Mostly because I am overly analytical about everything!
Moving away helped. A lot. Funny that something that I regarded as hindrance as a child was now my saviour?
Having my children has helped open up a new spectrum of people to interact with. Many of whom I would not have considered worthy before.
Are any of these people friends?
At what stage does someone become a real friend?
Seperation
Dear Son,
I understand that my leaving you at school to go home with your brother and sister is difficult for you as you think we are off to do fun stuff without you. It breaks my heart to see you getting so upset.
Please do not try and escape from school again. You actually enjoy it once I have gone, so no more tantrums and tears at the school gates.
Education is very important and will bring you fabulous rewards as you learn to read, write and interact socially with your peers.
It is really hard for me to leave you too.
I love you more in the whole world with chocolate bar eggs and more.
Mummy xxx
I understand that my leaving you at school to go home with your brother and sister is difficult for you as you think we are off to do fun stuff without you. It breaks my heart to see you getting so upset.
Please do not try and escape from school again. You actually enjoy it once I have gone, so no more tantrums and tears at the school gates.
Education is very important and will bring you fabulous rewards as you learn to read, write and interact socially with your peers.
It is really hard for me to leave you too.
I love you more in the whole world with chocolate bar eggs and more.
Mummy xxx
Friday, 3 September 2010
School Uniform *blub*
There comes a time in every mothers life when their child prepares for their first day at school. I thought I had this covered seeing as I have done the 'first day' thing at nursery and at two preschools!
Wrong.
It seems that I am set for a big melt down come Monday when my eldest boy has his first day at big school.
Today, for the first time, I managed to get him into the WHOLE uniform. I am not ashamed to admit that it brought tears to my eyes!
He looked adorable and VERY grown up all of a sudden.
I'm not sure if the impending sadness is just of heart swelling pride though. I genuinely believe this could have something to do with my losing my child into 'the system' and the inevitable changes that he will go through of which I have little or no control.
I know he is ready for school. I know he needs to learn. My concern is the unsupervised access to other peoples complete little sod's who irrevocably will have an impact on my child's personality.
He is a sensitive lad. He is not dry completely. He still has a sleep through the day. He turned 4 a week ago and is the youngest child in the whole school from Monday.
How does my maternal protection instinct extend to during school hours without making a complete nuisance of myself or committing social suicide on behalf of my child?
I'm really not sure how to begin to process any of this mentally.
I am sitting here indulging in the last few days of my little boy before he begins his journey into a young man. I hope his caring, gentle, adventurous, sensitive, loving, cuddly, smoochy, yummy demeanour stays in there. Somewhere.
He has the ability to blossom into a wonderful young man. I hope nobody undoes all of my hard work.
Wrong.
It seems that I am set for a big melt down come Monday when my eldest boy has his first day at big school.
Today, for the first time, I managed to get him into the WHOLE uniform. I am not ashamed to admit that it brought tears to my eyes!
He looked adorable and VERY grown up all of a sudden.
I'm not sure if the impending sadness is just of heart swelling pride though. I genuinely believe this could have something to do with my losing my child into 'the system' and the inevitable changes that he will go through of which I have little or no control.
I know he is ready for school. I know he needs to learn. My concern is the unsupervised access to other peoples complete little sod's who irrevocably will have an impact on my child's personality.
He is a sensitive lad. He is not dry completely. He still has a sleep through the day. He turned 4 a week ago and is the youngest child in the whole school from Monday.
How does my maternal protection instinct extend to during school hours without making a complete nuisance of myself or committing social suicide on behalf of my child?
I'm really not sure how to begin to process any of this mentally.
I am sitting here indulging in the last few days of my little boy before he begins his journey into a young man. I hope his caring, gentle, adventurous, sensitive, loving, cuddly, smoochy, yummy demeanour stays in there. Somewhere.
He has the ability to blossom into a wonderful young man. I hope nobody undoes all of my hard work.
Thursday, 2 September 2010
Birthday Blues
It's the day before my 29th birthday. A somewhat anticlimax.
Birthdays are inevitably full of disappointment.
A grand total of 4 birthday cards will arrive on time. My husband, my children, my husbands aunt, and my father. You will get to know each of these people well over the coming posts.
I am, today, restrained to waiting in for the delivery of a birthday gift from my husband/children. I have been told that if I don't sign for it, I won't get it in time for my birthday and invariably as my husband does not drive (can't drive, won't drive) would have to go and pick it up from the delightful courier depot 20 minutes drive away from my house in an area that smells so bad I need to wind the windows up as I near it.
So, here I am. Waiting.
I woke up this morning to my middle child, aged 2, thrusting my mobile phone into my face with the dummy inhibited declaration of "mummy! phone!". This is the norm.
My morning has consisted of juggling my 3 preschool aged children's eating preferences, staring at the mound of washing up that requires loading into the dishwasher, left over from last night when I was out 'working' (I will explain the use of inverted comma's later.) until 11pm. Husband was in charge of bedtime and tidy up time. Children got put to bed, nothing got tidied and I had to cook myself and him a meal on my return. Hmmm.
It just so happens to be a gloriously sunny day outside. One that I would have loved to have taken advantage of before my eldest starts school next week. The summer has been shockingly bad weather wise this year (and every other wise which I will also explain later!) and it might have been nice to get out down the park, the marina, the beach, ANYWHERE apart from being stuck in the house.
Depression levels are already rising.
My father has requested the company of my husband this evening so it looks like I will spend the evening battling my children into bed and if I am feeling generous, wrapping my own gift.
You see, my birthday is often out shined for a number of reasons; years gone by I was always packed off to my grandparents house for the summer holidays and if the new school term didn't start on my birthday I would get to share it in the warmth and comfort of two people whom I loved deeply, unconditionally and who always made me feel like the most special person in the world. I miss those years and I miss those people.
Sadly my grandfather passed away 10 years ago and my grandmother has never really recovered. Part of her died with him.
In later years, my then partner would make the effort to make me feel special with gifts, but at the price of being deceiving and manipulating and generally treating me like rubbish for the other 364 days of the year.
My parents are unique to say the least. My mother lives abroad. She has done for many years. Divorced from my father since I was a tot, it is clear that she should never have had children.
She never remembers my birthday (or my children's for that matter).
As a child gifts would often arrive late at the blame of air mail. As an adult, I don't even receive a card or a phone call or even a text.
Strange that the mothers memory of a 36hr labour on the 3rd September 1981 wouldn't trigger the reaction of posting a card or even making a call.
My father, well where to start. I will receive the obligatory cheque for my being related to him by blood. I won't see him. Ever since he met his partner of 9 years I have never seen my father on my birthday. Her birthday is the 1st and takes precedence.
In fact, everything else seems to take precedence over my birthday when it comes to my parents. It doesn't really stop at just my birthday.
So. The burden falls on my husbands shoulders to make the celebration of my birth special.
He is crap with birthdays.
The knowledge that there is even a gift arriving in anticipation is an improvement on the past 5.
For the last 5 years he has never prepared any gift in advance of the day itself. Normally dashing out in the morning to grab the first thing that comes to hand, regardless of whether I will like it or not. And normally something that he would like.
My children are too young to understand but 2 of them able to say "happy birthday mummy" tomorrow will be all that I expect from them and it will no doubt fill my heart with joy and bring tears to my eyes as I will feel like the luckiest mummy in the world to be able to enjoy that moment.
Am I wrong to expect the slightest bit of fuss to celebrate my birthday or did my grandparents set me up to fall with notions of feeling special and it being 'my' day?
This evening my husband will return on the last train stinking of booze and probably leave something on the train. The last trains arrives at 1am ish and that is how the big day will begin....
Birthdays are inevitably full of disappointment.
A grand total of 4 birthday cards will arrive on time. My husband, my children, my husbands aunt, and my father. You will get to know each of these people well over the coming posts.
I am, today, restrained to waiting in for the delivery of a birthday gift from my husband/children. I have been told that if I don't sign for it, I won't get it in time for my birthday and invariably as my husband does not drive (can't drive, won't drive) would have to go and pick it up from the delightful courier depot 20 minutes drive away from my house in an area that smells so bad I need to wind the windows up as I near it.
So, here I am. Waiting.
I woke up this morning to my middle child, aged 2, thrusting my mobile phone into my face with the dummy inhibited declaration of "mummy! phone!". This is the norm.
My morning has consisted of juggling my 3 preschool aged children's eating preferences, staring at the mound of washing up that requires loading into the dishwasher, left over from last night when I was out 'working' (I will explain the use of inverted comma's later.) until 11pm. Husband was in charge of bedtime and tidy up time. Children got put to bed, nothing got tidied and I had to cook myself and him a meal on my return. Hmmm.
It just so happens to be a gloriously sunny day outside. One that I would have loved to have taken advantage of before my eldest starts school next week. The summer has been shockingly bad weather wise this year (and every other wise which I will also explain later!) and it might have been nice to get out down the park, the marina, the beach, ANYWHERE apart from being stuck in the house.
Depression levels are already rising.
My father has requested the company of my husband this evening so it looks like I will spend the evening battling my children into bed and if I am feeling generous, wrapping my own gift.
You see, my birthday is often out shined for a number of reasons; years gone by I was always packed off to my grandparents house for the summer holidays and if the new school term didn't start on my birthday I would get to share it in the warmth and comfort of two people whom I loved deeply, unconditionally and who always made me feel like the most special person in the world. I miss those years and I miss those people.
Sadly my grandfather passed away 10 years ago and my grandmother has never really recovered. Part of her died with him.
In later years, my then partner would make the effort to make me feel special with gifts, but at the price of being deceiving and manipulating and generally treating me like rubbish for the other 364 days of the year.
My parents are unique to say the least. My mother lives abroad. She has done for many years. Divorced from my father since I was a tot, it is clear that she should never have had children.
She never remembers my birthday (or my children's for that matter).
As a child gifts would often arrive late at the blame of air mail. As an adult, I don't even receive a card or a phone call or even a text.
Strange that the mothers memory of a 36hr labour on the 3rd September 1981 wouldn't trigger the reaction of posting a card or even making a call.
My father, well where to start. I will receive the obligatory cheque for my being related to him by blood. I won't see him. Ever since he met his partner of 9 years I have never seen my father on my birthday. Her birthday is the 1st and takes precedence.
In fact, everything else seems to take precedence over my birthday when it comes to my parents. It doesn't really stop at just my birthday.
So. The burden falls on my husbands shoulders to make the celebration of my birth special.
He is crap with birthdays.
The knowledge that there is even a gift arriving in anticipation is an improvement on the past 5.
For the last 5 years he has never prepared any gift in advance of the day itself. Normally dashing out in the morning to grab the first thing that comes to hand, regardless of whether I will like it or not. And normally something that he would like.
My children are too young to understand but 2 of them able to say "happy birthday mummy" tomorrow will be all that I expect from them and it will no doubt fill my heart with joy and bring tears to my eyes as I will feel like the luckiest mummy in the world to be able to enjoy that moment.
Am I wrong to expect the slightest bit of fuss to celebrate my birthday or did my grandparents set me up to fall with notions of feeling special and it being 'my' day?
This evening my husband will return on the last train stinking of booze and probably leave something on the train. The last trains arrives at 1am ish and that is how the big day will begin....