Silent night....

.......well, almost anyway, because I've nearly lost my voice! It's a bit of a Brucey really (bonus), because I am over the cold and all the feeling poorly, and now, all of a sudden someones put me on mute! The children are most concerned. Gosh, am I usually SO very loud?! Small Sprog asked if he could clear the table tonight and get the washing out of the machine, it was all very surreal. "Are you sure you are alright mummy?" They chorused as I whispered instructions for bedtime. Small Sprog had a very worried look on his face as I squeaked his story out and then, halfway through Tall Girl offered to take over. She wasn't even buried in Facebook! If only I had known before. The way to get perfectly behaved children is to appear ill! All the times I have felt really poorly, but have had no obvious symptoms, I have had no sympathy at all. Now I am all squeaky, they are positively angels!

With any luck I will not get my voice back until the weekend. Having a loud voice is a tool of the trade when you work in a school, I wonder who I can get to phone in sick for me?!

Marking time

A year ago this weekend my dishwasher broke down. The fact suddenly struck me today. It is a strange thing to remember, but then it is not that event that has stayed in my mind, but what I did on the Monday following.

Isn't it funny how some days just stay with you, momentous occasions, some small and some life changing, especially when they fall on certain days, or at certain times of the year, like Christmas for example, or New Year. I can remember what I did on New Years Eve years ago, last year, the millennium, good ones, bad ones, all because it happens at a significant time every year. Like our children growing before our eyes, these events mark time.

Tomorrow is a special day. I know exactly what I did on the same day last year, the place, the time, the feeling. I am very lucky indeed to still be able to remember it fondly.

Even though this last year has been chaotic, there has been one beautiful constant in it all - well more than one, if you include my two lovely children- and I am thankful and grateful every minute of the day.

Twaaaannngggggg!

No, it's not to get my Revenge! I have just, probably unwisely, purchased one of these for Small Sprog for Christmas.

I have always tried to avoid buying guns for him, though I have to admit to a water pistol purchase a couple of summers ago, but somehow, that didn't seem to count. Has he been deprived do you think? I just have a 'thing' about glorifying the whole idea of shooting and killing. But then I am a girl, and have realised over the years, that boys will turn anything into a gun, if they don't actually have a toy one. Any stick, cardboard tube, coat hanger, bamboo cane, finger, anything in fact, that is not spherical can be 'imagined' into a gun.

So, this year when someone bought him a spud gun he was thrilled. His first real weapon! He loved it, and every potato in the house had holes in. But then he went to play with his best friend who had one of the items pictured here, The Elastic Band Gun, he raved about its specifications and waxed lyrical about its potential! For him this was it, this was SO much better than a spud gun, especially when aimed at the neighbours cat, which, of course I was extremely cross about!

Anyway, I am having trouble knowing what to buy him this year, especially as I have to think of ideas for items for other relatives to buy for him. Often not just thinking, but buying too -how does that happen exactly?- So I have grabbed the bull by the horns and bought it. He is a boy after all, and I have learnt and accepted that they are a totally different race altogether, I know he will be pleased. Luckily we live in a 'cat hating' neighbourhood and the ones that do live close, scarper on first contact!

I wonder how many injuries I will sustain?!

Today I received a letter in the post from the Family Mediation Service. It is a last ditch attempt to solve custody without going to court. The solicitor arranged it and I have been waiting for a week now to speak to them. I rang as soon as I opened the letter and they can see me in the first week of January. Obviously they have to see both of us. Separately first, to see if there is 'room' for mediation and compromise, and then together to 'thrash it out'. I am more than willing to try it and have high hopes, my appointment is booked. However I can't do it single handed, Husband has to agree to go too. They have given him until the 17th December to make his appointment. If he does not make one, mine will be cancelled and then to court we will go. All I can do is hope.

Facebook

At my daughters request I have relaunched my Facebook account. She is my only friend! She has thrown a snowball at me, and we have had an electronic chat regarding who should go and fetch the hot drinks and biscuits (of which there are only four left because she had eaten most of them earlier!) It is fun and I feel trusted that she wants me to be able to see her page, though I'm not sure if that will last! She is washing her hair now, we discussed it on 'chat'!

After she had gone I scrolled down her page. One entry stood out, it said: Fed up coz mum and dad won't stop arguing. Sad, and not entirely true, it is mostly a strained silence. Perhaps that is what she means. I left a one word comment - sorry-. At least, like me, she has a place to vent.

PS. I have just had a message from her, it says

- OK about the arguing -

I am counting my blessings.

Boxing Day

This could turn out to be a rant, but it is not really mean to be.

This week Husband asked Tall Girl if she wanted to see her Grandma on Boxing day. Tall Girl had told me her reply, she certainly didn't want to go. I gave her a look but I was not surprised! I knew how she felt. For the last 3 or 4 years we have visited Grandma on Boxing day as she has not wanted to travel over Christmas. It has become one of those traditions, which, to be very uncharitable, we could all have done without! However I did say to Tall Girl that I hoped no one would abandon me in my old age at Christmas. I mean, no matter how much of a duty it is, it still should be done. She is old, and will not see any other family over Christmas if Husband doesn't go.

None of us ever did want to go. Grandma has never been a hands on sort of Grandma. When the children were little it took them a while to realise that my mum was a hands on Granny, who would play and read to them as much as they liked but that Grandma was different. When she said she wanted to 'see' the children, that is what she wanted, to just see them, not play or talk to them particularly. Eventually they understood this, and when we visited we took toys and things to play with, quietly...

I spoke (yes, sometimes, where the children are concerned, we can actually have a relatively normal conversation) to Husband about the trip last night. "Tall Girl said she didn't want to go, so I thought we'd leave it this year, it's never much fun and it is Tall Girls Christmas too" He said.

Leave it?! I wanted to shout! Every bloody year we've been, none of us ever wanted to go, and it was our Christmas then too! Obviously I didn't say this out loud! I did give him a veiled lecture about duty and being lonely at Christmas, but he doesn't have much of a relationship with his mother either, nor a sense of duty I fear, so I think it fell on deaf ears.

I remember leaving her house Boxing day last year and thinking, (with glee!) that it would be the last time that I would ever visit her again. A good friend reminded me there is a silver lining to every cloud, it made me laugh at the time! I am by no means a saint, not in any shape or form, we have had our disagreements over the years. I fully acknowledge that a Christmas visit is never a pleasant visit, but she is old, and it is Christmas. I hope no one forgets me at Christmas when I am old.

The Memory Maker

This was in my mail this morning. It was sent from here, a blogger who I've not met before but who found me. In days like these, small kindnesses mean so much. Thank you Rob-bear.

Despite feeling lost, this weekend was not as bad as I'd feared. Things often aren't though are they, but that knowledge doesn't always help?

Sunday was as successful as Saturday. The children and I had a peaceful morning, even though Husband did join us at the breakfast table. By 11.30 we were on the road and the day went beautifully to plan. Loads of time for Small Sprog to enjoy the hands on stuff at the Science Museum, and then a beautiful tea with one of my oldest friends. By the time we arrived home it was Small Sprogs bedtime, he was exhausted. We had all enjoyed our day (though his excitedness had caused some interesting behaviour!) and I had survived the weekend almost Husband free, despite his being constantly at home.

Today is the first day of advent, though I'm not particularly religious, I do enjoy its regularity, predictability, and its rhythms. Yesterday Tall Girl announced that she was looking forward to Christmas this year. Gosh, at least she is not worried about it being 'normal' as I am. She says she is looking forward to buying people gifts. Gosh, at last the message of giving being better than receiving, has sunk in! She is growing up.

I, on the other hand, am trying hard to make everything special, without showing that circumstances are miles away from how they should be. For a couple of days now, advent calendars have been primed and ready to go, some present buying has occurred and I am falling into the festive spirit by default.

Husband and his family have never really been the sort of people who have celebrated Christmas in a big way. His sister and her husband tend to hide away until it's all over and Husband tends to think about it the day before, moaning about the build up and the festivities before hand with annoying regularity and breathing a sigh of relief when it is all over. So it has always been my task, and indeed pleasure, to perform the rituals and traditions that my mum passed down to me. The making of cakes with a stir and a wish. Making festive decorations and food. Decorating the house, finding festive things to do, singing Christmas songs and reading Christmassy stories. It has always been part of our family Christmas.

This year it is harder, and I am itching to forge new traditions for the three of us, ones that will become part of our memories of Christmas together, when Husbands dark cloud has departed. But as always I am impatient, I must wait, sit it out until the time comes. I will still be their 'memory maker' as Saz says , it will just take time.

One day done and one left to go...

... of the weekend that is. I can't complain so far, though in my head the whole weekend stretched ahead of me and I felt as though I was going to be walking through treacle. However, as always, the children are my saviours.

This morning my Small Sprog climbed sleepily up the stairs and lodged himself in my bed. We read stories and found and old Beano sticker book that he had hardly used. He set to work making his own comic strip with the sticker book characters, it kept him busy for what seemed like hours, first in my room and then sitting companionably on the bathroom floor while I was in the bath.

Tall Girl was, and has been since her birthday, engrossed in the audio Cd's of 'Twilight' which I bought her for her birthday. There are 11 Cds in the set and she has just reached the end. Being dyslexic, it would take her a tortuous couple of months to read the novel. She is spellbound by the story, as are all girls of her age it seems.

By the time we were all washed and dressed and ready for the day it was nearly noon! Husband had been downstairs all that time, well out of the way and unable to interfere. I love these leisurely mornings with my children. We were all happily doing our own thing, but together, if you now what I mean? There was no pressure to do anything or be anywhere, and for once, Husband was not making us go down for breakfast at a time when only he wanted to eat.

It was later, as I was washing up our late breakfast early lunch type meal, that I caught sight of Small Sprog proudly showing his dad his homemade comic strips. Husband had totally taken over the project and was doing one himself, while Small Sprog watched. I felt angry that he didn't have the respect to watch and encourage Small Sprog without interfering and trying to 'improve' him or tell him what to do. I kept my council.

By 3.30 we were at our party. It was fun and predictable, 12 years and always the same people and format, though the children are somewhat bigger now and the older ones initially more awkward! The predictability and company of close friends made the whole afternoon and evening fly by in such a comfortable way, we all know each other so well. There was, and always is, far too much food, but the mulled wine was just about perfect!

Husband did not come in the end. I was very relieved but as we left him behind in the house, I felt a small stab of pity for him. How would I have felt in his shoes? We had always gone before as a family. But the pity didn't last long, as I remembered just how bad things have been recently. Is that bad?

My Domestic Goddess friend, who was at the party and always makes the cake, commented on husbands behaviour when she dropped her children off to me recently. She commented on how cold and harsh he was, and how even to her, he was abrupt and off hand.

I was glad she had noticed. Sometimes I think I am going mad.

More time with friends tomorrow. I am thankful.

It is hard to know where to start...

I guess the custody battle is what is getting to me most. My priority is keeping the children out of court. So far husband has not changed his mind over custody and so my solicitor has said the next step is to let the court decide. I have no idea what he is playing at. How can he think about splitting the children? How can he think that he can care for a teenage daughter alone? How can he think that any of this is good for any of us? Why on earth does he want to pay huge court costs when his proposal is almost certain to fail? Unless there is something I don't know about.

I think he is counting up my nights away. He has stopped going away himself. He may be going to try to say I am not mothering properly.

Meanwhile his presence becomes even more claustrophobic. The fact that he will not go out means I have no down time at home with the children without him. His constant presence is intimidating, he has designed it to be that way.

This morning, as often happens, he was sitting in the kitchen on the last remaining chair. He had finished eating breakfast, but would not get up to let me sit to eat mine. He would not move to let me get a mug from the cupboard. All those low level things have begun to get me down this week, particularly with the prospect of staying at home a little more.

In the evening, as soon as I put dinner on the table in the other room for the children and I, he comes to sit with us. I don't want him there. I want to relax and unwind with my babies. It happens most nights now, unless I get food on the table ridiculously early. He seems to be getting home from work earlier too, so it is nearly impossible to eat before he arrives home. When at the table he tries to dominate the conversation. I see through him instantly, he used to never really bother asking about their school day before all this happened. He talks over me. It is unpleasant.

Tonight there were horrible sly and snide comments made to me when I was trying to watch a wildlife programme on the TV with Small Sprog. The solicitor said to stand up to him, but if I answer back, he throws another comment my way, and all the time Small Sprog is there, next to me on the sofa, listening.

So this weekend I have tried to fill our time with fun things to do, allowing for homework of course! We have the first Christmas party of the season on Saturday afternoon and evening, which is a regular event held just down the road from here, done in conjunction with 5 other families. It is always fun, they are some of my closest friends. I am hoping Husband will not attend...

On Sunday my lovely friend as invited us over to see her. We will also visit Techniquest beforehand. The children are really keen to go, for them it will be two treats at once. She understands my predicament. I am so very thankful to her and for all my wonderful friends. This week I have felt looked after by so many lovely people. I am very lucky, I could not carry on like this without them. I am grateful, it's just hard sometimes.

While I am writing, I am wondering how I will get through Christmas Day here with him and the children. At the same time I know it is what the children want. That is how I will get by.

Back down to earth

I am here. I am here with too much to write, with too many tears and a head full of thoughts that I cannot dispel.

Last weekend I was away and free. It was beautiful.

Now I am here, and things seem to get worse by the day.

Tomorrow morning I see the solicitor again.

Forgive me, for I am too tired of it all to write more.

In love with life and bloggy land!

I have noticed recently, on at least 4 blogs that I read daily, how people are doing lists of things that they are grateful for.

One thing I've learnt over the last year, or have been taught by a close friend perhaps I should say, is to count my blessings.

When you read other peoples blessings, you realise how much we have in common, how we all are touched by the simplest of things, how what makes us happy is often uncomplicated, family, friends, a sunny day. So I will try hard to continue to think daily of how lucky I am - for I am truly blessed with so many things - and remember to take time to take stock, instead of racing on to the next thing, as my impatient side will always tend to do.

Home

I love having a tidy house. I like the way everything looks right in a certain place. I especially like the kitchen worktops to be crumb and mess free, and I like the floor to be the same way. I am happy when the carpet is hoovered and the cushions are plumped.

However, I am struggling. Since I heard from the solicitor that Husband wants to keep this house, I feel like it doesn't belong to me any more. I have lost the will to keep it clean and tidy, apart from the essentials, and as I am doing the basics I feel as if I am cleaning someone else's house not my own.

Every so often I get a real urge to tidy and straighten. I suppose it is almost in built, we have been here so long and I have worked on autopilot for most of that time. Truth be told, there is a lot of satisfaction in tidying and straightening, it feels good, it helps me think straight. But suddenly I catch myself doing a job and then I remember, this is pointless, no one notices, no one keeps it tidy, no one keeps it clean and tomorrow it will look just as bad again.

Then I find myself looking at nice things in shops. Brightly coloured towels and accessories, china with clean lines, shiny new kettles and toasters! I am longing for a home, to make a home, it is what I used to do for a living and I miss it so. Whilst married Husband has often stifled my creativity. Sometimes this has lead to a total impasse and nothing has been agreed at all. I know life together is a compromise, yet I feel I have been compromised to the point of loosing myself.

I am longing for a home, I am waiting, but time moves so slowly.

Another toilet story!

It was a lovely relaxed start to the day yesterday, Husband left the house before we were all awake, and it was great to have the place to drift about in.

However, at about 8am there was a ring on the front door bell. I was in the downstairs toilet. "Tall Girl, you'll have to get it I'm having a ***" I shout urgently, just as the delivery driver wrenches open the porch door. I can hear her padding about and as she passes where I am, she tactfully pushes the door completely closed.

Inside I am trying to stifle giggles.

She signs for the parcel and shuts the front door with a bang.

As I hear it slam I explode into laughter, her face appears around the toilet door, she is giggling too. "Do you think he heard me?" I spluttered

"Definitely" She replied and gave me a withering look

Ooops, if only I was a quieter person!

I have just one word to say to you......

Here's a meme I have done before, but it was probably last year, and lots has changed since then, so when I saw it again I thought I'd have another go. You need to answer with one word answers (obviously!) not easy for me, hence the title!

1. Where is your cell phone? Somewhere

2. Your hair? Brown

3. Your mother? Mad

4. Your father? Technical

5. Your favourite food? Anything

6. Your dream last night? Oasis

7. Your favourite drink? Wine

8. Your dream/goal? Happiness

9. What room are you in? Attic

10. Your hobby? Communicating

11. Your fear? Loss

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Happy

13. Where were you last night? Here

14. Something that you aren't? Roasted

15. Muffins? Scones

16. Wish list item? Home

17. Where did you grow up? Cheltenham

18. Last thing you did? Ate

19. What are you wearing? Thin!

20. Your TV? iPlayer

21. Your pets? Gone

22. Friends? Wonderful

23. Your life? Messy

24. Your mood? Excited

25. Missing someone? Yes

26. Vehicle? Tickles

27. Something you're not wearing? Silk

28. Your favourite store? Sweetmart

29. Your favourite colour? Bright

30. When was the last time you laughed? 17:43

31. Last time you cried? Recently

32. Your best friend? Wales

33. One place that I go to over and over? BS5

34. One person who emails me regularly? Above

35. Favourite place to eat? Sofa

Just to explain, my car's registration, sort of spells Tickles, almost....In case you think I've gone completely mad?

Feel free to join in!

The one in which Small Sprog locks himself in the loo...

Four weeks ago Small Sprog had his first ever flu jab. He suffers from asthma, which is mostly under control but he had a big 'flare up' last winter, so the NHS have sent him an invitation to be stabbed in the arm. Twice!

The first jab went well, he couldn't remember having an injection before as he had been so young last time. I bought and applied 'Emla' cream so that he wouldn't feel the needle, and all was fine until after the jab, where he promptly threw up out of shock. Poor love. Anyway thankfully the jab left no side effects - other than a complete fear of needles and the knowledge that having a jab can make you vomit - and all was well. Until this morning, when he needed to go back for his booster.

Now, rather than reminding him of it days ago, and letting him fret, I thought I would tell him at the last minute. He woke, bumbled sleepily to the breakfast table and thought about what to eat. I suddenly realised that maybe it was not a good idea for him to eat before we went, so I had to tell him there and then, where he was going at 9am. His face crumpled in betrayal. How could I? He began to sob. I tried to say it would be better this time, it was important that he should go, better than having the flu etc etc. Over time he seemed to resign himself, and after a shower and dressing, he watched TV, to 'take his mind off it'!

By 8.50 it was time to leave " Come on" I said "Time to go"

"I'm not going" He replied

Oh no, he was not resigned at all. I tried to lift him into my arms. He's damned heavy now and it was all I could do to keep his feet off the ground. I hauled him towards the door. As we passed the downstairs toilet, he grabbed hold of the handle. "I need a wee" He shrieked, so I let him down.

Into the toilet he went, shut the door and guess what? He refused to come out again! The door was firmly locked and bolted, there was no way to get to him, the little rascal- though that may not have been what I wanted to call him at the time. He must have been planning it, as a last resort, all along!

After much cajoling, he did come out. Eventually! The only reason being there was nothing very amusing to do in there, except read his joke book on the toilet while his legs went numb, and the joke book was at least two Christmases old.

Note to self; do not leave exciting reading matter in the toilet for Small Sprog, in four weeks time he has his swine flu jab! Shhhhhh, don't tell him!