Sunday.

I sat in the car today for an hour on the Downs this morning. The rain was pattering on the window and the rusty leaves of the Horse Chestnut trees blew around me in the breeze. It is Rememberence Sunday, it always makes me cry. The sky was crying too. Lest we forget.

Fireworks.

In the car, on the way to school this morning, Small Sprog was getting excited about going to see the firework display. "Daddy wants to take me too" He said.

"Oh" I reply. I was really hoping that it would just be the three of us, I wasn't sure I could stand us all going together.

"He said he really wants to go, can't we all go together?" Said Small Sprog

Poor thing, he is so torn between us, he wants to please us both, he wants to be fair. I couldn't tell him why I wanted it to be just the three of us, I couldn't tell him what Daddy had planned; do you realise that daddy wants to split you and your sister up for three or four days a week? That is what I wanted to say, but obviously I couldn't.

We did all go together. Tall Girl took her friend, for company or protection against the storm, I'm not sure which. For some reason, although my car is tiny, I felt the need to drive us all, something about being in control I guess.

They were superb fireworks and a great display, despite being very delayed and all the 'tiny ones' in the audience heckling with fake countdowns and singing a very rare version of 'why are we waiting'! My children stayed close, I was worried I would lose them in more ways than one, but I did not. We 'Oooohed' and Ahhhhhhed' and smiled and laughed. I hardly noticed Husband at the back.

Afterwards there were hot dogs, they taste better on firework night than any other night of the year. We each ate one, struggling with the soggy onions and the oozing sauce, mmmmm, they were very good indeed! Then someone wanted another. Husband went to get some more, he asked me if I wanted one, he used my name, not shortened as some of my friends do and he used to do, but all of it. It sounded so strange on his lips, sharp and unfamiliar. I declined, but strangely I realised that if someone else had asked me, I'd have probably said yes.

As we walked back to the car, Small Sprog and I glimpsed one more firework, a stray from another, more distant display. It exploded into a huge golden ball which shone and sparkled like a thousand golden stars, and then we heard the bang of it. It looked like it should have had a noise he said. He is a firework expert now!

The fireworks were some of the most beautiful I have seen for a long time, I loved sharing them with my children, but all the time I was looking up at them, I couldn't help thinking that I would have liked to have shared them with someone else, who wasn't there.

The green Post-it Note

In a shop after school yesterday, Small Sprog fell in love with a pad of bright green Post-it Notes. He looked at me in his endearing way and I fell for it instantly, buying them for him in a trice. "What on earth are you going to do with post-it notes?" I say as I reach into my bag for the money. He grins.

"Mummy, can I have something to eat?" He asks when we arrive home.

"I'll get you something in a minute" I reply, as I turn on the laptop in the kitchen and settle down to a little bit of reading.

I get absorbed reading this article and faffing around with Twitter.

A while later Small Sprog appears next to me in the kitchen. He -for once- says nothing. He doesn't need to. He stands and stares at me, trying not to smile. His presence is distracting, I give him a sideways look and burst into laughter. His face is hidden, his gaze cast downward, because, stuck to his forehead is a bright green post-it note. On the note, in his wobbly writing is

just one word...Hungry!

Just how does he think of it?

Things have felt good for too long now...

I can't bear that he's home again ( Husband has been away for 4 days) and I have to be in the same room with him and even speak. I can't bear his smugness. I can't bear that I have single handedly looked after this house for 9 years and now he thinks he can have it all for himself. I want to shout at him and hurt him, yet I have to be calm and say nothing. It has all of a sudden become a living nightmare from which I feel I cannot escape from unscathed.

I have discovered why Husband won't put the house on the market. He thinks he can afford to buy me out, but not even give me half of what it is worth. He also wants to have custody of Tall Girl every other week but not Small Sprog. How can he THINK of splitting them up like that? He wants 50% custody of Tall Girl and 33% Small Sprog. How can he care for them in the week? How can he be there at the end of the school day and be there to take them to school in the morning? Will he rely on childminders? He will have to. I am angry, and very very sad. HOW CAN HE? I can't contemplate loosing my children, but I suppose he feels the same. I have sacrificed a career to be there for them before and after the school day, and all for what? For him to let them be 'latch key' kids. I will fight, but I am terrified. I am crying

Confusd of Suburbia

All back to school today, including myself. Well, it should be. Tall Girl is fussing about feeling ill. She has no physical signs of illness, no temperature, no runny nose, she has not been sick, she is eating and went out to Guides last night. If anything at all she may be a little overtired.

I have the distinct feeling she is trying to miss school, but why? That is the bit that worries me. Is it a particular lesson she is trying to avoid, is there homework that she hasn't completed? She is a closed book, she will not let on. At the breakfast table this morning Small Sprog piped up, as I was trying to sort her out, "Perhaps she's being bullied" I have to say I think this is doubtful, as she seems to have really enjoyed school recently but I guess I should take it into consideration.

As he said it she burst into tears. She said she was, and then she said that she wasn't, she said she was being teased but couldn't tell me why. I suspect its all to do with having a boy friend, she doesn't know I know about him. When I ask who's teasing her she says it is her best friend. I get cross, mostly because I don't know what to believe. I suggest that she crosses the best friends name off the party list for next week.

So Small Sprog and I are off to school, and I am letting her stay at home. If I thought she was really ill I'd stay at home with her, but I don't think she's going to vomit or pass out. However I am uneasy about the whole thing. I am cross with myself that I didn't make her go to school. If she gets away with it today will she try to pull a sicky again? I don't like her missing a whole day for nothing, and will I disbelieve her next time when she's really ill? Am I cross because she's got the better of me?!

Confused of

PS. I missed my 400th post, this is my 402nd!

Look what we did!

Happy Halloween

from

Friday morning, Thursday evening...

I was woken this morning by a tuneless strumming. Eventually I drag myself out of bed and put my head around Small Sprogs bedroom door. "Did you like it?" He says, smiling a big smile.

"Lovely!" I reply sleepily.

I look in on Tall Girl. He face says 'grump' all over it. I give her a wide and exaggerated smile and a jolly "Good morning!"

"Great noise to be woken up by" Was her retort as she nuzzled down in her bean bag, eyes glazing over, back to the land of MSN. Surely there can't be anyone online already?

Last night, whilst tidying up in the kitchen, I had put on an old CD. By coincidence it was called 'While My Guitar Gently Weeps', yes really! It has loads of old guitar tunes on, a few of which remind me of being at school, and I rediscovered it recently when looking for something else.

Small Sprog came into the kitchen and his eyes lit up. Minutes later he was back with his new Guitar. He drew up a chair, plonked himself on it and started to strum along. Track three came on. "I know this one!" He shrieked excitedly. I have no idea how he knew the words, it is almost as old as me, but anyway we both sang along together while he strummed and Jerry Rafferty valiantly attempted to keep us in key!

"Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you!" We pointed at each other and laughed. When the track ended Small Sprog put it on again and again. We kept singing, he strummed, it all got a bit raucous.

Tall girl appeared, having heard the noise, she managed to drag herself away from her computer. Normally she is my singing and dancing partner in the kitchen. She looked on in amazement. "Come and sing" I pleaded with her, holding my mobile up like a microphone, "Come on it's fun" She just laughed and went back up to her room. Small Sprog and I are no contender for MSN. It seems I have a new partner to be silly with.

Husband was the next one to join us in the kitchen. He surveyed the scene and then the CD cover with slight contempt. "Play this one" He says to Small Sprog as he changes the tune mid track.

"I don't like that one" Small Sprog complains

"It's a great track" Continues Husband, as he goes on playing bits and pieces of lots of different tracks, changing over and over again. All his favourites but not Small Sprogs.

Small Sprog looses interest and comes to look at a video I had taken of him earlier on the laptop. "I can't hear it on there" He says to me, and then he shouts to Husband "Can you turn the CD down?" But Husband refuses. Small Sprog looks disappointed. "Its ok" I say to him. "We'll look at it together later"

Eventually Small Sprog gets back control of the CD and puts his favourite track back on. We sing some more before bed, but the spell had been broken a little.

Later that night I run through the scenario in my head, Husbands behaviour, thoughtlessness and total lack of understanding that he is not the only person who has an opinion. It used to be a regular occurrence. Not in the same way, but the whole attitude, lack of thought for others and total disregard, although in his defence, I don't think he always realises that he is doing it.

For all of this year I have known that I am doing the right thing, but seeing him squash a happy Small Sprog, as he had crushed me in so many small ways before, just reinforced the confidence that I have that it is, and has been for so long, over. We all need to move on.

To market, to market........

We visited a local farm yesterday, it used to be a favourite heaven for us but closed down sometime ago. We were all so pleased to see it had reopened recently.

Before going though, we went to the guitar shop to buy Small Sprog a guitar. He is starting lessons after half term and already has his sights set on setting up a band with his best friend who plays drums.

Anyway, he was as pleased as punch as the lovely man who owned the shop, sat him down and gave him a little lesson on how to sit and how to look after it properly. He took it all very seriously, and as we left the shop, I noticed how carefully was carrying it. When we reached the car he asked me to pass it to him, after he'd negotiated climbing into the back. He really did look as though he cared about his new guitar, bless him. Long may it last.

All the way out of Bristol though, Tall Girl and I were serenaded. It wasn't too bad, no where near as bad as someone learning to play the violin, but by the time we'd cleared the city and were heading out to the country Tall Girl was eager (desperate) to turn on the radio. When we arrived at the farm Small Sprog, ever so carefully, slipped it back into its case and ordered me to put his precious guitar in the boot. "And don't blame me if it gets stolen!" He said as I stashed it safely away. I assured him I wouldn't.

We had a great time at the farm, falling in love with pot bellied pigs and feeding Shetland ponies. As we ate our picnic, a little robin flew onto our table and stole some crumbs, right before our eyes, it felt a little magical. "Where's the robin now?" I asked a little later

"In the bush" Small Sprog replied

"Which one?"

"The green one"

"They're all green!" I exclaimed as I looked around at several holly bushes. Was he joking, you never can tell?

As I took the Mr. Kipling's Halloween Fondant Fancies out of the bag and offered them around, Small Sprog looked at them longingly and chirped up "Not one trick but allll treat!"

"Did you get that off the telly?" I asked

He shook his head. I'm still not convinced, it seemed like such a good advertising line. Perhaps he'll be 'big' in marketing one day, that or Guitar Rock Hero I guess!

PS. I am at mums until Sunday, so unless I can sort out her Internet it's withdrawal symptoms for Tall Girl and I! See you soon I hope.

In which I am a bad mother...

I have spent roughly two hours cleaning Tall Girls stinky pre-teen bedroom this morning, I have cleaned, dusted, tidied, organised and hoovered. It looks and smells much sweeter now.

I cajoled her into the shower sometime later, and feeling that my work was done, came downstairs for a welcome cup of tea. Oh the joy of having a messy teenager!

After pottering around downstairs for a while I decided to go and have another look at my mornings work, sometimes it is satisfying to survey the scene. However there were already clothes on the floor together with her towel and PJ's. Should I get her back upstairs to put it all away? I didn't have the strength.

As I picked up her towel I noticed her mobile phone was underneath. I looked at it a moment. Just one little look?

Now I have to explain, and think I may have done before, that when I was about her age I kept a diary, a very personal one, full of teen angst and boyfriends, until my step father took it and read it. It led to endless arguments and accusations, everything was held against me. I never kept a diary again, until now. So, knowing how it feels to be violated like that, I have always vowed never to do such a thing. But as I saw her phone I hesitated. Just one little look?

Sometimes I leave my phone lying around, though mostly it is close by. I rarely delete texts, unless my phone is full. Most of them are from the same sender, my other life. Some of them say...

Just one little look? I couldn't help myself. I picked up her phone, selected messages, then 'In box' and scrolled down. Jack. Jack. Jack.... All from the same sender. I select one to read.

"Be on line in 10. Ly" I caught my breath, smiled and put down her phone. It felt so familiar. It is so strange. She is a dark horse. I am still smiling inside.

Only a mother could love him!

Our day out yesterday seemed to go pleasantly on forever. We walked, talked and picnicked in the sun. The younger children took off their wellies and socks and paddled about in muddy puddles, hands went in too. I relish the way they are free to play like this. The older two strutted about a bit, as is their pre teenage way, they too would have paddled in muddy pools, once.

Later we bonded over the dining table, 8 of us happily eating together, no formalities, no pretence, confident in

each others company.

By the time Tall Girl, Small Sprog and I returned home it was dark and I couldn't wait to get Small Sprog in the bath to scrub off the mud. There is a certain joy, from a mothers point of view, of having a clean Small Sprog! Once clean and out though, he was off and looking for fun. It was nearly bedtime but I did have one thing waiting to do with him. I produced two yogurt pots and some string. He smiled gleefully, he'd been asking to do

this for ages, we made holes and attached the string.

His face lit up when it worked, string stretched tightly, him in the hall and me in the kitchen. We played for a while, then suddenly he said

"Just a minute"

"What's the matter" I asked, and then I realised.

He put his yogurt pot on his bottom and farted into it!

Can you believe it? A massive great big one.

And do you know what? It resounded in my ear as

though I was right next to him. Lovely. I suspect he's

been planning that all along.

Small Sprog is happy

As I write I can hear Small Sprog, upstairs, singing at the top of his voice. He is happy.

I was unpacking the shopping in the kitchen earlier and a whole lot of chocolates fell out. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. I have probably eaten half my body weight in chocolate this weekend, force fed obviously, but he suddenly looks as if he hasn't eaten a sweet for weeks. He pounced on them. "Where did you get them from?" He asked

"Where I have been this weekend" I replied. He was satisfied, he gazed at the brilliant shiny wrappers.

"What's in this one?" He said, and I went through each, guessing at what was inside, toffee, fudge, caramel. He took a toffee one, grinning from ear to ear.

"I hoovered the hall yesterday" he said through a mouthful of toffee and chocolate. He looked pleased with himself

"Gosh, did you?"

"It was fun"

Perhaps I should get him to do it regularly.

"Can I sweep the floor now?"

I look at the kitchen floor. It certainly hadn't been swept for a good few days. "OK" I reply.

So he zooms around on his broom, sweeping frantically backwards and forwards.

"Can you just sweep in one direction?" I pleaded, as the debris was swept from one end of the kitchen to the other. He got the hang of it in the end, almost.

Tall Girl shouts from upstairs "Smaaaaaaall Sprog"

"Tall Girl has put the shower on for you" I state, relieved that I can now sort out the sweeping. So off he runs. I hear him burst into the bathroom. I breath deeply.

It wasn't long before I heard him burst back out. "Muuuuuummy!"

"Yes"

"There's a spider under my dressing gown"

As I climb the stairs I wonder if this is a 'real' emergency or whether he has rediscovered his stash of plastic spiders. I look him in the eye as I get to the top of the stairs. He face is alight, animated and bright. I give him the same look, and we both giggle as we enter into the bathroom together.......

Post weekend

Sometimes I think I have been very lucky in my life. Over time I have longed for many things. The longing fades eventually, I dismiss the impossible, knowing it to be just a dream. But then, sometimes years later, I have been struck that all that I have longed for has become reality. I am lucky and blessed all at the same time, in so many ways.

Tonight is my last night away from home, it has been a beautiful weekend. I have been very well fed, entertained and loved, who could ask for more?

Tomorrow it will be back home and back down to earth. I am not sure what I will find when I get there, but I am prepared for it to look as though a bomb has been detonated. Three days of Lego strewn on the floor, three days of crumbs on the sofa.

I have spoken to my children every day, they have been indoors most of the weekend. Tomorrow I am going to take them out for the day, into the fresh autumn air, with my friend Alternative Mother and her four children. We will walk, talk, kick leaves and breath deeply.

I will need to breath deeply.

That time of year again

I texted my daughter this morning to find out what she was up to while I'm away. She and Small Sprog are with their father this weekend. "I am ok. Daddy is still ill" was about the gist of it. I am hoping I will not have to go home because he cannot cope.

Daddy is still ill. This time, as often happens, it is his stomach. He is hungry but won't eat, therefore it is a self fulfilling prophesy. I have been waiting for this to happen. It is a little early but, at the same time, a predictable event, which could almost be calculated on the kitchen calender. Daddy is ill, it may last sometime.

I'm not sure the children really notice, a year is a long time when you are their age, but it has been a regular event roughly since Tall Girl was born. The 'illness' starts around Tall Girls birthday, or the clocks changing and it lasts until just after Christmas. Each year it is different, more severe some years than others. I believe it is all in his head, brought on from echos of childhood events, yet he barely seems to remember being ill at the same time the previous year.

This was last years event. I'm not sure how this years one will pan out. He is stressed, we are all stressed, living there together. I am hoping against hope that his mood may spur him into making the required change, but really I know that depression immobilises you and makes decisions difficult. I find myself out of control of my own life again. I wonder what will happen?

Holidays

Yay! It's nearly the weekend and schools out! Well almost out, as we have an inset day tomorrow. Husband is having the children this weekend and I'm looking forward to some time away, although looking forward is often the hard bit. When you're single you can plan ahead, I so want to plan ahead and look forward, but once children come into the equation it's different. What happens if they're ill, or need me or... Anyway, I am looking on the bight side and hoping things will be fine. I am very much looking forward to my weekend.

Next week, when Husband has returned to work, my children are mine, all mine. We haven't got much planned, just tentative arrangements with friends, but I am looking forward to a fair few days of not having to be on the hamster wheel, no early mornings, no school pick-ups, no after school events. Just time. Time to spend doing not much in fact. I think all our batteries need recharging, and Tall Girl is hormonal now, so hopefully she can take that out on her dad and will be fine by the time I get her!

What are you doing for Christmas?

"What are you going to do for Christmas" My mother asks for the umpteenth time.

"I have no idea" I reply truthfully, for I really don't. I live a week at a time right now. I cannot plan, so much is beyond my control, or so it seems.

"Well you know you are welcome" She says soothingly. Yet it does not sooth.

For as long as I have had children I have tried to avoid being at home for Christmas Day. It is all to do with my Step Father, I do not wish to spend it with him, especially with my children. He drinks, he becomes inappropriate, I do not wish to be there.

For years I have beaten around the bush. I have never really said outright that I don't want to spend Christmas at home. I have used the children as an excuse. They need to be in their own home, I would say, as indeed they do.

The consequence of this is that Mum has always come to me for Christmas, leaving my Step Father at home, because even if asked, he would never come. Doing so would mean my mother would make him drive and then he couldn't drink.

However this means she comes alone on Christmas Eve and goes home to cook dinner with him at about 3pm on Christmas Day. It has worked, in the past, but I know it is not her ideal Christmas. She has always wanted to do the Whole Family Celebration in her home. Part of me has always wanted to point out that she made her bed therefore has to lie in it! But I have not.

I can't believe she thinks I would rather be in her house. Even though there is a very real possibility that Husband and I may be here together, which is unthinkable in it's self, even so I still have no wish to run to her house. And anyway, I can't take the children away from their father on Christmas Day, unless we have negotiated it. Which we have not, yet.

I grab the bull by the horns "We won't be with you Christmas Morning" I say, assertively "But you know you are still welcome here"

I know she won't come here, we have already discussed it. She avoids Husband at all costs. "I don't like being anywhere where there is an atmosphere" She states

"I have to put up with it all the time" I say bitterly.

I feel unsupported by her. Perhaps I am being unfair.

She looks disappointed, she has always seen her grandchildren on Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning. I think about the alternative, I know I cannot do it. "Most Grandparents see their grandchildren in their own home some Christmases" She says petulantly.

I am reminded that we are, both of us, 'Only Children'.

I have to state my case "But what about Dad?" I say, I do call him that, funny really "He won't be able to cope with the children, there will be breakfast at a certain time, dinner at a certain time. We like to take the day as it comes, sometimes we're still in our pyjamas until lunchtime! I want to be able to relax" There, I've said it.

She is Hurt. I should make her feel better but I have no wish to. I feel selfish. Again. I know that if I do as she wants I will feel very, very lonely in her house on Christmas Day, it is all about self preservation, but I cannot say that, I cannot make her feel better. Sometimes I don't think she has any grasp of how I feel and what major stuff I need to deal with before I get to where I want to be; divorced and independent. Perhaps I am being too harsh?

When she has gone I ask the children if they want to spend Christmas with Granny, I thought that perhaps I should. "No" They chorus. At least I have done the right thing for them.

Torn in two

It is late Saturday night, I am not in my own bed.

I am woken by the sound of a crying child.

It is not normal crying, it is a sobbing, wrenching cry.

It is calling "Mummy, mummy".

I am mummy, but it is not my child.

It is sobbing and gasping,

I try to listen for words to reassure,

him or me I am not sure.

At one and the same time I want to hear and I do not.

I want to hear that he is being cared for.

I want to hear that he is not suffering.

I want to hear that he is not being abused.

But I do not want to hear.

I hold my breath, I cannot hear the words.

He is calling mummy, so many of us answer to that name.

I want to hold out my arms to him, beckon him in, comfort him.

All of you would.

And I think of my own beautiful boy, sound asleep in another home, peacefully asleep with his Granny on guard.

How I need to hug him now.

There is a boy next door, for whom sleep is impossible.

There is a boy next door who needs to feel loved.

There is a mother next door who does not reply, for a very long time.

Then...

Her words are harsh.

"Shut the f**k up" she shouts as he continues to sob.

How could she?