Knackered

I am a full time working wife and a mum of 5 children.

I am knackered.  Nearly all of the time.  Knackeredness has become second nature to me and I have realised that if I am not a bit tipsy on exhaustion when I return home from work  then there is something wrong with me.

You fit knackeredness in to your day to day life.  It becomes a part of you and you learn how best to cope with it.

I fume about homework for the children because I am being very knackered, I fume about washing bundles because I am fighting knackerdness and again, the cycle that is my life continues...

A week or so ago my husband had a thought and my life changed.  Only slightly, but it was a change none the less.....

We were chatting about housework and my hatred for it.  My idea of having the cleanest, poshest house in the street was dying before my very eyes.  I wasn't cutting the mustard.  In fact, I would prefer to watch Coronation Street omnibuses than hoover.  I was constantly aware that my house was a shit hole.  Too aware.

You know that feeling when you really really cannot be arsed but you know that you really really have to do it because you will have an infestation of cockroaches if you don't......?  Well.  That.

I was coming home from work, looking around, shrugging my shoulders and sitting down and watching telly.  Then when the weekend came I was too interested in having "quality" time with the children and Jurgen and I didn't want this to be interrupted with dusting and cleaning windows.   But then it would overwhelm me and I would become proper wild and I could have buried the entire family under the newly laid patio and sat and ate cake over their "graves".  You get my point? Housework and me wasn't bonding.

I want to pretend that my perfect marriage includes Jurgen taking over the responsibility of the housework like any good husband should.  But in reality? Of course he doesn't.  He cleans the bathroom (a little bit shitly) and he potters around looking busy,  but in actual fact he is as bored and crap at it  as I am.  This doesn't make me love him any less.  Because instead he builds me walls and stuff....  Its all about the compromise.  I do the housework (badly) and he does the DIY....

So a week or so ago.  We decided we would employ a cleaner.

Eureka!

It actually was as if my life had changed.  Like I had made such an important decision that David Cameron was going to pop around for a bit of advice on how I think this country should be run.  . Because this decision...?  Well it was as if I was God.  

Now, the effort that went into employing a cleaner was a whole different ball game.  It was horrendous.  I was prepared to throw my money out there and no one wanted to catch it.  It was demoralising.... but once I had made the decision I couldn't back track.  There was no shitting way that I was going to continue to get down on hands and knees and mop the kitchen floor.  No shitting way.

In fact my mind was SOOOOOO made up that I was prepared to live in squalor UNTIL a cleaner was employed.  Because there was light at the end of my unclean tunnel.

I finally secured a cleaner two days ago.  And they start next week.

I decided that this is not going to be a stressful exercise for me.  I am not going to clean up for the cleaner to clean.  Because that would be bloody mental wouldn't it?  And I don't want to feel that pressure.  This is for me.  And about me.  Its an entirely selfish thing.

So my contract is quite lenient.   If the kitchen table is full up of shit then don't clean it.  If the kitchen sides are full up of shit - clean around it  Don't touch the children's bedrooms, because despite by lazy arsedness I must teach my children to be better than me.   To clean up after themselves.  Because that's morally right, right?

It's a whole new beginning for me.  But something that kind of feels right.,  you know?    Its hard earned money that I desperately want to spend.  I have no objection to spending it either.

I don't spend a lot on myself.  I really don't.  Those that know me will know I am not particularly fashionable.  I don't blow money on clothes and shit.  I buy what I need, when I need.  I would much much rather lavish money on my children than me.   And I am a little bit partial to an holiday.

But this is something ridiculously extravagant that is all about me.  And it has made me sleep easier at night.

And to be fair it isn't costing me as much as you would think.  But in my opinion it's money well spent.

And like my brilliantly attentive husband says..."if you are happy then I am happy".  And as I sit here basking in the glory that is my shit hole house for one more weekend....

I'll say that I am the happiest I have ever been......

Food

I have a love/ hate relationship with food.  Except, for me there is no hate.  I love food.  I consider myself a connoisseur when it comes to anything food. 

But there is my problem.

Sometimes you are just too good at stuff, y'know?

Two months before Florida I set myself a goal to lose some weight for the sole purpose that I could eat tonnes of food when I went away.  Thus allowing myself the indulgence of gaining all the weight that I had lost.  But not getting any bigger.  Makes perfect sense, right? 

Once home from Florida I found it hard to get back into the "zone" but continued with the occasional bit of exercise and  continued to eat in abundance and drink lager (only at the weekend though)  and the weight just stayed.  At a level. 

Then I put some jeans on this weekend and found that my inability to breath whilst sitting, was a sign that I needed to shift a few pounds.  Again. 

And so the bloody cycle starts all over a'soddingain.

There's no happy medium for me and its starting to destroy my soul.  When you become all deep and meaningful you realise that,  this is it.  The circle that is your life.  And it makes you sad.

I am not an unhappy person.  I laugh a lot.  I find it hard, on occasion,  to be serious.  I always assume the glass if half full.  I can chat to anyone and I have only ever hated one person on sight.  I have a happy family life, a happy home and life is good.  But I can't be happy with MY perception of my body.  And I want to be. 

Even when I have lost weight and I feel really comfortable I  always want that little bit more.  I always want to be thinner.    Even when my own husband stands in front of me, looks me in the eye and tells me that he loves me no matter what, no matter how big/ small/ wide or long I get.  But it just doesn't matter.  Because it's all about my perception.  Its about how my body image makes ME feel.

And when it comes to being selfish?  I don't want it to be all about me.  I want to be carefree.  Bounce along the street kicking my stomach in front of me without a care in the world.  I want to eat cake, and lots of it.  Twice a day.  I want to swig lager from a can and eat Kebab if I want to.  (and I actually loathe Kebab) 

But it's me that stop me.  Its not my husband.  Its not my children.  Its me. 

I cycled five miles tonight in my aim for inner peace.  I was breathing hard and sweating and its a brilliant feeling.  That buzz you get from your adrenaline pumping.  But its never going to be as good as the taste of chocolate cake. 

I am not going to stop exercising or eating healthily because ultimately its what I want.  I feel better when I am thinner and all that blah de blah.    But I genuinely feel its a battle that a lot of us have.  I don't think I am alone.

I am not writing this blog either, as an attention thing.  I am not writing it so that everyone makes lovely comments at the end about how beautiful I am ( but I will not object or delete any such comments)  because I truly believe I have enough self confidence DESPITE my weight.  

But I am sure there are other things to worry about.  Its been nearly a year since I blogged about nearly killing myself at Bootcamp and here I am again complaining about not being the "ultimate" me.  Nothing much has changed.

And its laughable really.  I don't want to change me.  I don't want to be anybody else (despite some people's opinions to the contrary)   I just want to be happy with the body shape that is ME.

I think its a battle I have lost.  And in a years time I will be probably be sitting in the same jeans saying "shit I can't breathe very well in these...." 

So that's it really.  I have put my thoughts down.  I don't feel better but I have to be content that this IS the circle of my life. 

Today I have eaten enough protein to sink a protein battle ship and I am drinking water like its going out of fashion.  And,  I KNOW, that I will reach my goal weight and start to feel better about myself.

And then oh my shitting god, it will be Christmas.......








 

Holiday

I have recently  read a really boring blog.  I remember thinking that generally people don't give a shit about your day to day life.  No one cares  of every day events in your lives that you think extraordinary.  No one really cares about the "great" things that are happening in your life especially when it comes across as bragging.  That type of blog doesn't interest me, however, I think I am about to do the same.  So for all intents and purposes this blog is more for me than for you so I apologise in advance if it bores the pants off you.  But my holiday....

 

 

I tried to enter through customs with a knife.  I had no idea it was in my bag and thought that the customs officer who confiscated it from me was very sour when I explained that it had "obviously" been left there after a picnic and I didn't, in fact, intend to hijack the plan with a butter knife and a pack of baby wipes.   No sense of humour?

 

On arrival in the US again a very sour customs officer decided to cart Jurgen to a holding room when asked about any arrests of convictions I  joked that he had a criminal record as long as your arm.....

 

What I meant was he got into a lot of stupid trouble when he was young and his last "problem" occurred in 2002.  The Customs officer said I had lied on his ESTA and for 45 long, long minutes, they interviewed him.  He had to go through every conviction he could remember and then be interviewed by a good cop/ bad cop couple who interrogated him some more.  They repeatedly asked if he was gang affiliated.  I don't think they were referring to the Red Hand Gang either.

 

By this point I had lost half a stone in sweat and worry, my hair was starting to fall out and I was on the verge of a coronary.  They finally "did him a favour" and let him in the country.  He cannot , however, return until he has had an interview with the American Embassy in London. 

 

So far so good,  right?

Actually the holiday was a roaring success despite the rocky start. 

 

So,  I finally picked up my Chevy and we hit the road to our hotel. 

 

 

 

Just for the record, my Chevy was awesome.  A beast of a vehicle.  And here she is. 

 

We stayed in the cheapest hotel/ apartment that I could find.  We had a huge room with a kitchen and 2 bedrooms.  An adequate pool was also thrown in.   We were right in the middle of all the restaurants and shops too. 

 

We hit all the parks on our 14 day Disney ticket.  Animal Kingdom, Magic Kingdom. Typhoon Lagoon, Blizzard Beach, Hollywood Studio's, Epcot.  We hit designer shopping malls and bought designer tees for the boys, sunglasses and purse for me and my oldest boy bought a whole new wardrobe of Nike trainers.  Skye shops like no one I have ever known.  She is a true professional shopper and ALWAYS buys something for everyone in our family before she spends a small fortune on herself.   

 

Shopping is such hard work and in 95 degree heat a beer stop is necessary.

 



 

 

Magic Kingdom is the Disney World iconic park and it was brilliant.  The Americans really know how to do it and there was nothing we didn't enjoy.  Except maybe the heat, and the crowds, and the price of drinks and the queues..... August in Florida is hot.  And busy.   The Fireworks and the Parade though,  rocked my world. 

 

 



 

 

My Baby Arlo who is now a massive fan of Mickey House.  (And I mean Mickey House)

 

 

 

 

Me and The Husband by the castle in Magic Kingdom.  

 

 

 

 

We went to Typhoon Lagoon and had a funny old day.  They have a wave machine that produces this wave...

 



 

I sat with Baby Arlo in the shallow end and Jurgen took Mattias and Roman to go deeper.  The wave hit me at a million miles an hour knocking me and Arlo down.  I realised quite quickly that I was in trouble and Jurgen had also spotted this and was running back to help me.  I managed to keep Arlo above the water whilst I bounced, half drowning, along the rough bottom of the pool.  All the while being bombarded with gushing water from all angles.  I lost half the skin on my arm in the process but Baby Arlo escaped unaware and unharmed.    Bloody wave and its bloody dangerousness.   But once I had gotten over my fall we went on to have loads of fun.  Its ridiculously dangerous and I saw lots of blood that day.   Seriously,  people must have lost limbs......and I am sure children. 

 





 

Epcot was really good too and probably the most educational aspect of our trip.  Because you have to add a bit of education for the kids, don't you?

 



 

My favourite ride of the whole trip.  The Aerosmith effort.  A rollercoaster that went upside down.  I kinda thought that although the rides at Disney are awesome they do lack that something that leaves your stomach behind on the ride when you exit.  This slightly made up for the feeling of loss.  

 

 

 

My brother joined us with his children for this holiday.  He hired a Mustang convertible.  I wasn't jealous at all.    

 

 

 

My boys swam late into the night every night.  Baby Arlo was anxious about the water at the start of the holiday but by the end of it had ditched the rubber ring and was happily plunging under water shouting "look at me,  mummy".....   Mattias was swimming widths and nearly had to have his goggles surgically removed to come home. 

 

 

 

 



This trip we discovered  Roman has no fear.  None at all.  He is 8.  He went on the Tower of Terror and the photo they took had everyone around him screaming with mouths open and Roman was just looking dead pan and almost bored.   He then attempted the Vomatron which is a 200 feet high spinning effort that was invented by NASA or some such like and goes fast, around and around, and then goes backwards, fast, around and around.  I felt sick watching him get on, but it didn't faze him in the slightest and when I asked what he thought he said "It was alright...."

 

We are attempting to find a ride to "thrill" him. 

 

We had a ball.  Two weeks of hot sunshine, awesome theme parks,  brilliant water parks, superb electric storms, food like you wouldn't believe, cold beer, swimming, shopping and good old fashioned family time.

 

I really do appreciate how lucky I am to have been able to experience this with my family.  I haven't been on holiday with my brother since we were children and it was really good to have him there too.   I booked the holiday in August last year and waited patiently for it to arrive and it was over in a flash.  I am definitely suffering from the post holiday blues and am already looking to book for next year.  I couldn't do Florida every year.  I need a holiday to get over this holiday - it's hard work and exhausting.  But worth every minute.

 

 

 

 

Jurgen and I thought long and hard before booking this holiday as we knew it would cost a fortune and we will be paying for it for a couple of months yet.    We worked hard and saved like Trojans and it worked.  We really did have the holiday of a lifetime. 

 

Next year, however,  I am back to the typical Egge holiday of beach, cocktails and chill out time.

Now I have to get over the jet lag and return to work.  The downside of every single holiday....

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





 



Facebook

I received a phone call at 7.00pm tonight that made me immensely proud but raging angry.

My daughters head of year called me to tell me that there had been a massive Facebook row between the girls and boys of her year which had become abusive, bullying,  ( and his words) horrendous and disgusting. 

Now, I was with Skye when it was all erupting over our favourite social networking site last night.  And I offered a bit of guidance and bit of support but basically advised her to not get involved and to walk away.  Which she did. 

It turns out however, that she did make a comment on this abusive rant of adolescents to say that it should stop.  It was bullying and it was making one particular person feel small and that's no way to behave and no way to make a person feel.

Having read the offending page on Facebook I am stunned that children of this age can abuse, swear, belittle, laugh, taunt and mock....all whilst sat in front of a computer screen.  In my opinion it's cowardly.  Because behind a computer screen you can be whoever you want to be and you can say whatever you want to say without someone punching you straight in the face.

I am amazed at this new twist that social networking sites have brought to bullying. 

Its a new side of ugly to children.  And I am learning that it exists.  A lot.

I monitor Skye's internet use a little.  I have had the internet "talk" that 5 years ago I never dreamed I would have to have.  But I am slack.  I don't monitor as much as I should but I am lucky that Skye talks to me.  She confides most things and I offer advice where I can.  But even I am running out of ideas on how to fight this new wave of internet bullying.

Its unbelievable and it makes me so mad.

I am enraged that a school teacher was still at school at 7pm, not because he was working on lesson plans or marking exams but because he was phoning 17 SETS OF PARENTS to tell them their son or daughter had been involved in an horrendous bullying rant on Facebook.  Is that the work that we need our teachers to be doing?  Is that how we need them to be spending their time?  What happened to plain old simple teaching?

I have ranted a lot on Facebook about Skye's school but in my experience their stance on bullying has been spot on and their quick interactions and dealing with these pupils has been more than acceptable. 

I am not here to judge these children or their parents.   We have all said and done things in life that have made us look utter idiots.   And these children have time to change.  Hopefully, they will apologise, learn from it and move on and never let it happen again.  Hopefully.

The phone call to me tonight was to tell me that Skye had done well.  She had spoken common sense and not been part of the bullying.  She was right in what she had said and her head of year was pleased that she had made sensible comments and then removed herself from the conversation.  Other parents tonight weren't so lucky.

Children are dying in this country because of bullying and internet bullying is an easier form of it.  Something has to change to make this stop.

I am scared about this.  The nasty comments and viciousness that I have seen on Facebook myself makes me more enraged that the very network we use to socially connect is the very network that is enabling children to think life is so bad that they don't want to carry on. 

THAT is the harsh reality. 

If you take anything away from reading this blog, anything at all, then please monitor your child's internet use.  Find out what they are doing, what they are saying and what sites they are visiting. 

Because if all parents started to do it then maybe, just maybe, we may stop just one child from thinking that life just isn't worth living....

Children

It really is with a heavy heart that I have to return to work tomorrow.  Not because I don't want to per se,  but because I have to leave the children all over again.

It's getting more and more difficult for me to do this.  I HAVE to work, that is a given, but I hate having to leave the children.

I have spent a lot of time with them this Easter holiday and again realised how great it is being a mum.  Being a family.  It is hard to remember this on a day to day level because life gets in the way.   And as much as I keep telling myself that I will try harder...again,  things get in the way...

It is just the way my life is going to be.  My children have all moaned that we are going back to normal tomorrow.  I try explaining why I work but they don't care.  They just don't.

This got me to thinking....

I save for everything.  I save for holidays, I save for Christmas, I save for rainy days,  I save beer money to buy carpet, I save coppers, 5p's...the list goes on.  I am a saver.

But I don't save to take my children on days out.  This is something that we only do when we are away on holiday. 

On Mothers Day we went to the Manydown Farm Park thingy and had a really nice day.  Usually these things put my right off.  Having loads of children tends to put the entrance fee in pricey territory before the food, drink, animal food, extra rides etc etc.   The overall price makes me weep and in actual fact I get proper wound up about how expensive everything is...

But I have the money.  I save the bloody money.  Why don't I use the "rainy day" money?  Because pretty much every day is rainy in the south of England. 

But here's the thing...

I need a bigger house.  We are bursting at the seams here.  There is always hustle and bustle and cupboards wedged shut holding all the crap in.   The children often collide with each other walking up or down the stairs.  It's even getting a bit of a tight squeeze around the dining room table. 

If we move then we would have to remortgage.  I have a relatively small mortgage currently with 11 years left to pay on it.  Which means I will be mortgage free by the time I am 50.  I could retire....

But if I move then I would have to borrow double if not triple what I already owe and up the term to 25 years or god forbid 30 years.  Why on earth would I want to do that?  It would be suicide for me and I don't want to HAVE to work until I am 65..  and Jurgen would be 70.  Perish the thought. 

And if I did this then I wouldn't have the disposable income I currently have so days out would be out of the question anyway. And savings?  I wouldn't be able to save a penny.   And my holidays?  What about my holidays?  I am not sure that I could work day in and day out and not take a holiday... 

And really do the children really care if we have a bigger house?  When you grow up what memories do you have?  Do you have the memory of the days out, the holidays, the time spent with your parents or do you remember that you had your own bedroom?  That you had a big kitchen?   That you had a separate dining room?

I know I am in a lucky position and not all everyone can afford  holidays but this isn't even about that.  Its about the time that you spend with your children.  Be that a holiday or plonking down in front of the TV, under a duvet and watching back to back movies.  Those are the memories that your children will hold dear.  Those I the memories I have about my childhood.

So, we are going to stay put,  in our massively cramped family home happily bursting at the seams.  We are currently building a lodge in the back garden to give us some extra living space.  Its not ideal but it's different!  And a cheaper alternative to an extension.

And with my savings we have planned a weekend out a month.  A weekend out a month for the children.   And once we have exhausted all the places that we have on our list, we will start again. From the top.

Because when you are a parent it's ultimately about doing what YOU think is best, for your children.








 

Indispensable

I have a week off work this week.  I have really looked forward to being at home with my youngest.  I have missed doing the trivial issues that come with being a mum.  I have been trying  desperately hard to potty train Baby Arlo, doing the school run daily (which weirdly I miss the most)  and just being here for the children.  I am not struggling with their homework.   And so far it has been brilliant.

And then this morning...

I was sitting on the bed after the shower, drying my hair when I felt an elastic band type ping in my lower back and a wave of agony hit me.  I screamed out and lay down.  Confused and in pain.  The feeling of the "elastic band ping" made me feel weak and faint, the pain was unbearable. 

Jurgen came running and I asked him to help me up because I couldn't move myself.  He managed to get me to my feet and held onto me whilst I got my bearings.  I was in a lot of pain but I think once the shock wore off the pain became more manageable.

I could walk fine which was my primary concern.  I mean, I don't know why I thought I wouldn't be able to walk...but over dramatically (as I am prone) I did.  But I couldn't sit.  I could lie down but if I sat up the pain was no longer manageable.  So, I lay down for a while and considered my options...

I like to sit,  I'm good at it.  You watch TV sitting down, you socially network sitting down and I was thinking about how I would get through the day without sitting down.   It all became a bit too much.

Jurgen brought me paracetemol and I took them.  He told me that this would take the edge off it.  I finally managed to get up and downstairs and my movement slowly returned. 

Its weird because I don't, as a rule,  have things wrong with me, if you see what I mean.  I haven't had a day off sick from work since before I met Jurgen.  I am not very tolerant of ill people (which is a bad thing, I know) and all of a sudden here I was not being able to walk and sit properly. 

I do three exercise classes and swim 6 miles a week.  I jog or cycle daily and I eat healthily.  But no end of being healthy and trying to live properly helped me today. 

And I suspect now that on and off I will always have minor back difficulties. 

This evening I am able to walk easier, sit properly with only minor pain and I have even hoovered and cooked the dinner.  Jurgen offered to do everything but I am really anxious about stopping and allowing this to become an issue and everything seizing up and it all becoming very much worse.

I rang my mum to tell her and she told me to get myself to the doctors immediately because I could have done serious damage.  But anyone who knows me knows that I only go to the doctors if I have absolutely no other choice.   In my pregnancy with Roman I never went to the doctors once (stupidly) until I became really unwell and was diagnosed with pre eclampsia and rushed into hospital.  So I am not good at going to the doctors.  I have told my mum I will wait a day or two and then see how its going.  If I am honest I think I have been a diva and made a big fuss over nothing.

But that's the thing - you can never be too sure, can you?

I sometimes believe I am indispensable.  That nothing bad is going to happen to me health wise.  I guess we all feel like this until it does and then it makes you think.

There are people in a lot worse discomfort, pain and with serious illnesses that are life threatening and I am not taking that lightly.  Its just for me, today, I  realised that we are not indispensable.  That your whole life can change in a heart beat.  You don't know what tomorrow brings.

Because of today I am not going to start doing all the things on my bucket list.  I am not going to start to live every day as if it is my last.  But I do need to be more appreciative of that fact that these things CAN and DO happen. 

As I put my feet up (with some difficulty )this evening and watch TV and eat cake I am going to try be more appreciative of that.   And really try and forget the feeling of that pingy thing in my back going...

And I think that means I may just have to start slowing down a bit....

Fear

I had reason this week to feel fear.   I mean heart wrenching, gut sinking,  sweat inducing fear.

It was work related.  I can't tell you the details but that really doesn't matter.  I have never felt fear before and it was obviously a whole new thing for me and something that since, has been playing on my mind.

Without giving any details it made me realise that I THINK I am a tough old bird.  I knew I was in a dangerous place and that I shouldn't be there but I also knew that not a soul in the world was going to know that I was afraid.

I was coherent.  I was confident.  I was "normal"  all because I made a decision not to be taken over by my fear. 

I managed to keep my voice calm .  Even though I thought I would cry and wet myself all at the same time. 

I walked away from the situation full of this confidence that I didn't really feel.  Waiting for the unexpected to happen and fortunate that it didn't.   It may sound all very dramatic, but it really was.  For my heart at least.

Afterwards I realised that until this day I had never been fearful of anything in my life.  I have been in some precarious positions in my time but fear?   Naaaahhh.   Slight concern, maybe.  But nothing like fear.

I think I learned something about myself.   I realise that stupidly ( or not) I would stand up for myself.  I would fight to protect myself if necessary.   I don't want to be a shrinking wallflower.  I want to be the confident woman that isn't afraid.

When Jurgen and I argue he often comments afterwards about how I am like a dog with a bone.   That sometimes the argument would be over in minutes if it wasn't for my pig-headedness and my apparent stubbornness.  But maybe that's not so bad?  

I mean don't get me wrong.  I wouldn't go headlong into a fistfight with Mike Tyson if I thought I was right but I don't think that I would walk away with my tail between my legs either... I am not sure whether its a dangerous personality trait of not.

I have always been the same.  I am a very protective person and I fight my corner and that of my family.  Its not in my nature to be submissive or to walk away.  I will always stand my ground and fight for what I believe is right.  Its who I am.

I have just been watching the news of the trial of Oscar Pretorius.  His defence against the killing of his girlfriend is that it was driven by "fear".  Could fear encourage you to kill?    I am genuinely unsure.  Maybe it would.   I don't know the in's and out's of the Pretorius trial (it just happened to be on the news) but who knows how anyone of us would react in the face of fear.  Its fight or flight, isn't it? Its opened up a whole can of worms for me....

 I am going to continue  to be a confident woman who knows her own mind and her own capabilities.    I am not going to allow myself to be in that position again if I can help it.  I mean its not clever.  I am not proud that I was in this predicament.  But I think my ability to not look afraid was maybe the reason that the situation didn't escalate.  I guess, I think that some people can "smell" your fear and would act on that fear and use it to their own advantage.

I don't want to be a hero.  I know that I wouldn't put my life on the line to prove a point.   I mean, my job is awesome and I love it but sorry,  I wouldn't die for it.....

I want to be confident.  And I know that I possibly portray this aura anyway.  But until you feel the fear.  Until you are faced with it, who knows how you will react.

I am not sure whether I was reckless or stupid.  Its too late for me to decide. 

Just that,  as a woman I don't want another person to think they can make ME feel like that.  Its absurd how this has made me think.  All defiant and angry that there are people in the world like that.  But while there are,  I don't want to be afraid.  Much to my detriment?   Maybe...

But I don't want to be afraid.  Of anyone, ever.  Its difficult to explain because people have died by trying to triumph in the face of adversity.  And now I am all confused all over again.  Because I 'spose that could have been me....

Fear is a new emotion for me.  I had never experienced it before and I really hope that I don't again.  But its scary how it has made me feel and how much I have reflected on it since.   I thought I was done learning new things about myself .. but apparently not.   Except this time, I am not really sure what I have learned.  But here's hoping that it never happens to me again then I don't need to know what exactly I learned.....

Sorry

Yesterday, we were out in the car.  Me, Jurgen and Baby Arlo.  

(for Basingstokers)

We were driving towards the Winchester Road roundabout.  We wanted to go B & Q way so were on the inside lane.  A car approached the roundabout on the outside lane.  We both pulled away together.  This driver did try and  cave the side of our car in just to get in front of us but wasn't going fast enough.  We went around the roundabout neck and neck.  We indicated left to pull over to the dual carriageway by B & Q and........

this car continued going right, all the way around the roundabout on the outside nearly caving the side of her own car in with our bull bars.   To avoid a heavy collision Jurgen had no choice but to continue right (not where we wanted to be going) and soon we were heading Morrisons way with absolutely no clue as to why. 

As I was looking at the driver in disbelief at this amazing show of THE most dangerous driving I have ever witnessed.  Do you know what she did?    Did she put her hand up in a show of sorry?  Did she sheepishly look down with shame at the admittance of her shit driving?   Did she buggery..   she actually stuck her fingers up at me.   Lots.  And lots.  She was effing and blinding at ME with this beautiful gesture of finger fury. 

I. Nearly. Had. A. Coronary.

Then I had to refrain with every will that I had not to cave in the side of her car and drive her into the nearest ditch. 

The rage I was experiencing was "red haze" inducing.  

We all make mistakes, right?  We are all human.  I get it.  But when we do make mistakes why on earth can't we just say sorry?

Why is "sorry" the hardest word in the world to say? Admittedly,  I find it difficult.  Its not a word I say easily.  But, if I am wrong I will admit I am.  When an apology is due I will give it, because you just should.

It amazes me how many people don't say it.  How many people saunter through life leaving a trail of destruction behind them and never realise that they are wrong.  Or that a "sorry" would make all the pain go away.

I have always taught my children right from wrong.  I mean you wouldn't think it good parenting if your children regularly used the "f" word in public, right?   But its not considered bad parenting if you do not teach your children to say sorry?

And this is where it should start.  Childhood.  We need to teach our children to have more manners.  To know right from wrong but to be readily able to admit that they are wrong, when they are.

I loathe bad manners.  I loathe those who are not big enough to say "sorry".   And I think its everything that is wrong with society today.

The world would be a nicer place if people were more polite.  Had more acceptance for their faults, and more tolerant of others.   And just because you don't like a person it doesn't mean you are exempt from apologising.  In fact, this is when you should say it more.   I have had loads of crap thrown at me over the years, and never an apology in site.  I have also thrown loads of crap but when I get it wrong an apology is never far behind.

The word "sorry" can dispel anger in a flash.  Its that simple.  When you have someone ranting and raving at you the simple act of saying "sorry" can stop that person dead in their tracks...

That's because not enough people say it.  Not enough people apologise.  And so when someone does, its astounding....

That's not how it should be.  It should be common place for you to say sorry when you are wrong.

Try and remember that, because in my quest to change the world I want people to say sorry a lot more...... oh, and also indicate on mini roundabouts....

Perfect

Its Valentines day.  Also my wedding anniversary.  6 years ago today I was married on an exotic beach in Mauritius.  With a bloke in my line of vision wearing tight speedo's...


This morning Skye gave us an anniversary card which read


"To Jurgen and mum
Congratulations on another year of perfect marriage
Love Always Skye"


I was really touched by this.  And it struck a chord.  .


I suddenly realised that its important, isn't it?  It's important that your children realise that there is a right way to have a relationship.


When I was growing up I was in awe of my mum and dad.  Their relationship was the epitome of normal to me.  They both worked really hard,  had no social life to speak of but saved hard and took us on foreign holidays every year.  I don't think you realise as a child that you shape your thoughts around your future on what you know as a child.


I always wanted what my mum and dad had. The closeness, the intimacy, the friendship.   But I never had that with my first husband.  (And these comments are not an injustice to him as anyone who knows me knows that we were good mates when he died.   We tried, but we were just not suited that way.)


But now?  I have all that.  Jurgen is my best friend.   We are really good friends.   We work hard, save hard, we don't party hard and we are fortunate enough to go on holiday most years.


We are really "family" orientated and think nothing is better than a walk with the children and the dog up the farm on the weekend.   As long as we are all together. 


We start a Monday morning telling each other we can't wait for the weekend when we can spend some time together.  Its how our lives are.  And I finally have what I have always wanted.  And now my children realise that this is good.  This is how it SHOULD be and this is what I want them to aspire to have.


I have been told that I am blind to Jurgen's faults.  And there is nothing worse than those who are too blind to see.    I have (embarrassingly)  been psycho analysed to tell me that everything I have is based on a lie. 


I am not stupid.  I am not blind.  I have never been more perfectly sighted. 


He treats me like a princess, even when the majority of the time I am a pain in the arse to be married to.  I am moody, opinionated, always right.... the list goes on.  But he is the other half of me.  He calms me when I am angry.  He listens to me when I need him to.  He advises me when I can't work it out for myself.  He comforts me when I am sad and reasons with me when I am shouty.  He knows me like no other and he can finish my sentences for me.


He also has massive bunches of red roses delivered to my work to remind me that he loves me. 


We argue.  Of course we do.  But its not punchy, fighty arguments.  It may be shouty but that's usually my big gob.  But there is no abuse.  No violence.   There is nothing that I do not want my children to see.   Its just how we are.


Skye is my only daughter and protectively I want to shield her from every arsehole out there.  And I am sure there are many.   But there are also the good guys.  There are also the ones who want to give you everything and make sure that your life is happy.


But, after a shaky start, I want her to see that you shouldn't settle.  You shouldn't be anything but a princess (prince) in the eyes of your other half.  And if they treat you any less then kick their arse out.  And if you are the one that leaves, that doesn't mean its because you are the victim.  It means that you realise, that together,  you are equally as shit as each other. 


I am sure that my marriage isn't everyone's idea of "perfect".  I am sure that there are many that think we are too clingy.  That we don't have our own freedoms.  That we need to "get out more".  But that it fine. 


Because it's PERFECT for me.  And if I teach my daughter anything.  Its to never settle for anything less than your ideal of perfect... and YOU get to choose what is perfect.  Every. Single. Time.

Drink

I have just completed 31 days of not an alcoholic beverage touching my lips.

Its a big thing now, this "Dry January".  I haven't done it for charity.  I have done it for me and my liver.

I drank my own body weight six times over at Christmas and felt sluggish and weighty when it was all done and decided that in January I was going dry.

I have managed it without hint of an issue and unless you have a drink problem this should be the case, shouldn't it?  I mean the charity aspect of "Dry January"  - paying for someone not to drink isn't a challenge in itself, is it?  Its not something that we should be motivating someone to do daily by paying them.  It's not  something unusual or daring or amazing. So as a charity deal,  I disagree (even if it is for a worthy cause) ....

So, 31 days later I feel better for it. 

I love waking up every weekend clear headed and fresh to start the day.    I sleep full unbroken nights and I feel better for that too.  Who wouldn't?

I even gave up going out with my workies due to not wanting to drink.  And I love an occasional knees up with the workies.    I know that I wouldn't be able to go out and not drink.   I don't know if that makes unusual but who wants to throw shapes on the dance floor stone cold sober...?  Not my thing I am afraid...  And I cannot tolerate drunk people when I am sober!

My birthday came and went and not a drink did I touch.  I usually have a celebratory drink on my birthday even if it is more of a "drowning my sorrows" drink as I hurtle towards the big 4 - 0...

The biggest difference I have noticed is on the bank balance.  I wanted to notice a difference to my dry January,  so I put the weekly drinking budget into a savings account.   Jurgen is decorating the hall, stairs and landing and I need new carpet.  So, the weekly deposit into the savings means I can now go out and buy a carpet. 

How bad is that?  I drink the equivalent of a carpet a month? 

That's quite scary.

I could re-carpet my whole house in 6 months of not drinking.  That puts a whole different spin on my weekend drinking.

I found there's a misconception in my head that if you have had a stressful week then a nice cold glass of lager on a Friday night will make it all go away.  Not really the case because you have to return to your stressful job on Monday and then you have to make it all go away on the Friday night and the cycle starts.....  I have coped much better with my stressful job by waking up weekends feeling great.

I have also lost over half a stone in weight..  So this not drinking malarkey is win/win all round...

I am off out tonight to a 70's themed "do".  An extended family party in Essex that I am really looking forward to.  So, whilst wearing my Farrah Fawcett wig I am going to partake in a drink.  It would be rude not to.

But drinking at home when I could buy a carpet?   Probably not.
 
I think the benefits of not drinking far outweigh the benefits of drinking.   And for now my goal is to re-carpet my house in 6 months...

Mental

I've had a difficult weekend. 

A really difficult weekend.  I have learned things about myself this weekend and suffered with a depression that I have never known before and I wanted to tell you about it.

Mental health is a taboo subject.  We all want to pretend, if you will, that our lives are brilliant and full of joy, love and laughter and the shitty mundane things never get us down and things never get on top of us.

In the world of social media gone mad, no one much admits anymore to having difficult days.  Facebook status' are full of happiness, and loving, and fun, and happy times.   No one really wants to tell the world they are actually having a crap time.    But I have.  Had a crap time.  This weekend.  (although, agreed,  I didn't write a facebook status about it....)

For the last couple of weeks I haven't felt right.  I can't quite put my finger on it but I haven't felt right.  Really out of sorts.  And snappy, really snappy.  I put it down to tiredness because I can.  But deep down I knew that it wasn't that.  I was apologising to Jurgen far too much for reacting badly to things he had said.  And I knew that I had reacted badly.  Poor Jurgen didn't know if he was coming or going.   

It all sort of came to a head this weekend and I had a light bulb moment too.   

Saturday night I felt desolate.  I mean lost.  Devoid of emotion and carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.  Couldn't see past the day.  Didn't want to see past the day.  Didn't want to return to work.  Didn't want to get up the next day.  I mean, seriously worrying shit.  And the scary thing was I knew that I was having these feelings and couldn't work out where they had come from, or why they were happening but  continuing to fell really bad, almost suicidal. 

I went to bed and couldn't scrape my feelings from the bottom of wherever it was my feelings were.  It was painful and really difficult for me to grasp.  But the weight, bearing down on me was unbelievably heavy.

Sunday morning I woke up feeling exactly the same.  I was really teary and still couldn't function properly.  Jurgen couldn't understand what was happening and everything got a bit too much.

It finished in a crescendo of tears and snot and stuff.  But holding onto Jurgen I emptied my entire body of its fluid through my eyes and cried and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. 

So, we had a chat and I was wracking my brain as to what was different.  I wasn't having marital problems, financial problems, teen problems.  NOTHING had changed but yet my mood was dangerously low. 

And then my lightbulb moment.    My doctor had recently changed my birth control pill.  I had been on my existing one for years and years and then suddenly they were discontinued and I had to change.  That was four weeks ago.    About when my mood changed.

I reckon I have been pretty good at covering it up.  Cheery and bright to the outside world but difficult and moody to those I love most in the world. 

Jurgen said that I am always so positive, always the fighter, always the joker.  And he couldn't cope with the change, didn't know how to cope with the change.  Just kept hugging me over and over and telling me that he was here for me....that he was working for me and not against me.  I could hear him, I could feel him but I still wanted to kill him....

Today, I felt slightly better.  I made an appointment with the doctor and I am going to ask to have my pill changed again.  To be honest I would prefer to have 10 more children than to feel the debilitating inner pain I felt this weekend.

I have never had mental health issues before. I have had mild PMT but I have never ever suffered like I have this weekend.  Its been torturous for me and my family.

Some people deal with this daily.  Some people live their whole lives feeling like this.  What I found totally overwhelming was I was aware of the change in my feeling but couldn't shake it and knew, without doubt, I was being irrational.  Its scary to know that you don't want to feel like that but cannot do a damned thing to stop it.

I think I am coming out the other side.  I have a goal of the doctors appointment and I hope this is a temporary glitch. 

I can't tell you if it will be. 

Even those of us who are always laughing, joking and always seeing the glass "half full" can suffer.  But we should talk about it more.  We should share it more and make it an ok subject to talk about.  I want to talk about it.  In fact, blogging about it has been a positive for me. 

Mental health issues are out there.   And in the world of the ever increasing social media sites we shouldn't be afraid to tell the world.  That occasionally we want to get off the merry go round.  Even if it is just for ten minutes....

Hayley

With the massive Coronation Street story line of Hayley Cropper choosing to take her own life being prevalent on my mind this week.. it got me to thinking.

I never actually saw the episode.  I just couldn't watch.  I am a massively emotional person at the best of times and can cry at a drop of a hat so I didn't need to see something that was guaranteed to have me sobbing uncontrollably like a member of my own family had died. 

I admit, I do have a bit of a problem with storylines such as these.  I'm all for being entertained and I appreciate gritty acting and real life stories.  But I am wrestling with my conscience over these emotional scenes that we put down as "entertainment".

Jurgen and I had a chat about it all afterwards.  And he asked the question if I would help him end his life if he was diagnosed with a  terminal illness.

How do you answer that?  My gut reaction is that I would do anything for him, so of course I would do this.  I wouldn't want to see him suffer so what's the problem?

Here's my problem.

I am too bloody selfish and far too scared. 

Imagine if you will the reality of assisting to watch someone die or at the very least watching them help themselves.  Could you?  Really?   Administer the fatal overdose. Watch THEM administer the fatal overdose.  Hold their hand while they passed...

The whole thing is far too overwhelming for me.  When my dad died, he died a painful, undignified death that most cancer sufferers do.  And as a young teenager I was adamant that , if I was given the choice, I would help someone to die.  I was a massive advocate for euthanasia and was very passionate about my views.  I mean, you wouldn't let a dog suffer like that would you?  The dog would have the saving grace of the vets injection.

But now?  I'm not so sure. 

I absolutely respect the persons right to choose to die.  Absolutely.  I think that we should be allowing euthanasia as a dignified choice.  For those that are armed with the facts, are of sound mind and have an unbearable terminal illness. 

But while it isn't legal I couldn't deal with the consequences of helping Jurgen ( or anyone else for that matter) to die. 

And, as I mentioned earlier, I am far too selfish.

I have a fear of death.  I'm no longer sure if its a healthy fear.  I have lost four close family members in my lifetime and that is quite a lot.  Death has always been quite a big part of my life, if that makes sense.

I probably think about it a little bit too much.  My greatest fear, in fact, is leaving my children without a mum, and them growing up without me in their lives.  I am sure this relates to everyone but it is a proper fear of mine that I have had occasional sleepless nights over. 

So, back to would I help Jurgen?

Jurgen is my whole world and I genuinely don't know how I would cope without him.  We do everything together.  My world genuinely revolves around him and my children.  And having seen my mum struggle massively with the loss of my dad, this is also a massive fear for me.  Being without him.  Forever.  I really want to say yes.  You know, be the supportive wife that would do anything for their other half.  But, if I am honest I don't think I could do it.

I really really hope that none of us, ever, have to make the decision.   None of us have to be as brave as Roy Cropper and make the harrowing decision to watch the ones we love die.      

I don't want the responsibility of the decision and I hope that I never have the responsibility.

I do however, hope that we get the chance to debate euthanasia and its ups and downs, if you will.  A good old fashioned debate that then allows the freedom of choice about this emotive topic...the freedom of choice to be yours.

Privacy

I worked from home today.  The first time ever.  I thought it was brilliant.  I managed to catch up on paperwork, with no interruptions . 

I was busy beavering away when my mobile rang.  It wasn't a blocked number (sure sign of a "seller") so I answered it.

Some poor unsuspecting soul told me that he had been passed information that I had been in a road accident lately.    Now, I have never been in a road accident in my life so I knew it was one of those "compensation crazies" so I went to reply to the negative and then thought hang on......

"Yes,  I have"  I replied...." Yes, I broke my neck in my accident.  Is that the one you are talking about?"....

Stunned silence.  "Errrrr...."

" Are you talking about the one where I broke my neck and spent six months in hospital?"  

Again, stunned silence.....

"No?  No?  Are you not talking about that one?  No?  Well then ...."  and in slightly sweary words I told him to do one.

And before everyone gets all self righteous and tells me he is only doing his job and all that, well yeah,  he is but its a massive invasion of my time and its attention, quite frankly,  that I don't want.  And I am pretty sure that no one does. 

I really despise phone calls to my personal mobile like this.   I get hundreds of automated calls telling me to reclaim PPI - never had any.  Reclaim bank charges - never had one.  And I am expected to be bombarded with these calls daily.

I once took a phone call from a double glazing company trying to flog me windows over the phone ( I am going back a bit)  and their opening sales pitch was:

"You responded to a survey and asked us to give you a call to make an appointment...."

Errr no I bloody never.  And I kindly explained that I had just had all new windows and doors fitted. 

Anyway, this company rang me repeatedly for about two months, weekly, always with the same opening sales pitch.  It almost became harassment and I'm pretty sure in the end they were calling because they knew it wound me up so much.

In the end I made an appointment for a bloke to visit.  They were over the moon.  I made the appointment for one evening and they told me the man was visiting from Southampton and what his name was etc, etc.   On the day of the appointment, again 20 phone calls to confirm that this bloke was visiting.  Phone calls to say he was visiting from Southampton.  Phone calls to ask if I was in. Phone calls to tell me he was stuck in traffic.   They didn't bloody stop.

The bloke finally arrived and knocked on my door.  I answered the door and stepped out into the street.  I looked at the bloke and said
"Thanks for coming"  shaking his hand  "Do you think I need windows and doors?"  Pointing to my newly installed ones.
He looked at all of them in turn and said,  quite confused like  "No".
"Thank god for that"  I said "Perhaps you could tell that to the twats that have been phoning me every week for the last two months because they weren't taking no notice of me..."
And I returned to my house and shut the door in his face. 
He had the rage.  I mean proper shouting at me through the door.  And to be fair, you can't really blame him but desperate times call for desperate measures and all that....

Then I received a phone call from an equally enraged manager and got called all the names under the sun.  Surprisingly, they never did call again...

The point is this:

If I want insurance, a PPI claim, a bank charge refund, compensation after an accident I will go looking for it myself.  I don't want someone to keep phoning me offering it to me....it's annoying, frustrating and, in my opinion, a gross invasion of my privacy.

So, I am now thinking up ways of playing them at their own game.  Even if it is only for my own amusement. 

I think you should all join me.  And the next time you get one of these phone calls, and it will happen,  try something different.  Don't just say "no" and put the phone down.  Play along for a while......

It will never stop.  I know that.  But everyone needs to laugh.  Everyone needs to find humour in the most annoying situations. 

And at least you may be able to make the invasion of your privacy slightly more bearable....

Guilt

We have all now returned to normal. The children have all returned to school and I have had the influx of nightly homework hit me like a freight train and I am still in a lot of pain with it all.

I opened the book bag at the end of the day on Monday and found a load of letters from the teacher from BEFORE the Christmas break.  Ooops. 

I will be honest, on the last day of term,  I threw the book bags under the stairs and didn't look in them again.  Apparently I was supposed to.  Apparently I wasn't supposed to have a Christmas break with the children.  Oh no.  Apparently I was supposed to plough through a double sided A4 piece of paper with "ideas" of how to keep my children occupied and make notes throughout, of all that we had done.  Proof if you like that I hadn't just sat idle, picking my nose, eating cake and watching Jezza Kyle.  And god forbid, celebrate Christmas. 

Good god almighty.  I hadn't done a thing.  Not a jot of reading, no times tables and no Ancient Egyptians googling.  Bloody hell.   The shame.  The feeling of failure.  I thought it was a school holiday?  It was for the teachers...but apparently it wasn't for me.  Now, I get that the teachers don't get the entire holiday off,  I am sure they have marking, class plans etc to sort but this vocation was their choice, no?

I then got the rage.   The rage that the expectation of me to perform for my children's education was coming to this. 

I reflected on the Christmas break ...

I took 5 days off from work over this time.  I worked full time all other days.   I had stressful prep to do on the run up to Christmas Day.  (So shoot me for not reading or doing times tables.)  After Christmas I went away for a long weekend.  Which mainly consisted of long walks, pub lunches and good times with my family and friends.  I then returned to work.  Full time.  The children returned to school 4 days after me. 

In this time I was supposed to read, times tables, some science stuff, some Ancient Egyptian stuff and then allow Roman to return to school with some imaginative power point presentation to show to the entire class .   And I did nothing.

According to Roman he has to come up with something this weekend to avoid getting some sort of low level punishment.   That's pretty crap really, isn't it?  All because of me and my complete inability to get motivated by a 7 year olds homework.

Don't get me wrong on a weekly basis I do shed loads of the bloody stuff.  15 minutes of reading A DAY each.   Maths homework, English homework, projects and everything in between.  His diary is full of work that we've done together.  But I expected a break over Christmas.  And I think the children need a break.  To unwind, to refresh and to prepare to start all the hard graft all over again in the new year.

This weekend it really started to grate on me when I spent two hours on Saturday night doing Education City with both boys.  Its too much.  For me and them.

I am not a teacher.  I don't want to be a teacher.  I have no patience and I genuinely believe that half the time I am doing more harm than good with my 0 - 60 in three second fury when they can't answer the question first time round.   And this is probably one of the major reasons I realised teaching is not for me.  But here I am practically home schooling them.

I want my children to learn, I want my children to succeed and be the very best people they can be.  But I don't want ALL of the  responsibility of making sure this happens.

I am crumbling.  Really.  Crumbling under the strain of it all.  I am a full time working mother of five and its all starting to get, well,  a bit too much.  Something has to give.  And I know that this is my lifestyle, my choice.  But seriously, I would have thought twice about having children at all if I knew what teaching I would have to do.

So I have decided.

I am going to try.  I am.  To do as much homework as we can as a family.  Yes, Jurgen also takes his fair share of reading (not so much the times tables).  But I am not going to make myself ill over it.  I am not going to do masses of homework in the holidays.  I am going to do what I can if I have the time.   The time has come for me to take a stand.  The homework is beating me and this is a battle I am losing.  And now, I am more than happy to lose.

I really feel bad but I want my children to enjoy life and appreciate that there is time for fun as well as hard graft and studying. 

And, when the blame is at my door when they are flipping burgers at Mcdonalds...I'll take it on the chin.  I will apologise if that's what's needed.   I will apologise that I never sat with them and did googling of Ancient Egypt on Boxing Day. 

And here's hoping that they will forgive me....

Battles

So, 2014 is no longer a new born and it's becoming old hat.  I have already mastered the art of writing '14 instead of '13.  

I don't make new years resolutions.  I used to but found that they were broken within a day and couldn't quite see the point.  When I was younger, every new year the first thing we always asked was what your resolutions were...now nobody cares.  Nobody.

This year,  I am changing the new year resolution adage to:

What's your new year battles?

I find that on a day to day level my life is full of "battle".  And I thrive on it.  My life is not complete unless I am fighting a battle no matter how trivial.

I want to decorate the lounge.  I have a few ideas.  I want something different.  I mean REALLY different.  Jurgen and I have been discussing colour schemes and I can tell he thinks there is something wrong with me.  But he is far too polite (or not brave enough) to tell me.  He gently tries differing my opinion and suggests other things.   But I want what I want and no amount of coaxing is going to change that.  And, love him, I always get what I want - its a standing joke in this house, but he needs his opinion to be heard.   And I hear it and then ignore it...I think maybe I have won this battle. 

I battle daily with CRAP in my house.  Since Christmas you are lucky to find a seat to sit on that's free of crap.  Its like an adult game of musical chairs.  My lounge is drowning in a sea of toys that have no where to go.  No place to live.   I have no idea where I am going to put them.  But, its funny because with time the toys just tend to blend in, or find a home and the problem suddenly ceases to exist.  At the moment I just keep tidily putting them in piles (like that helps).  I battle daily with space and crap.  I need more of one and less of the other.  Large amounts of crap and no amount of space makes me tetchy.   I could pretend I am going to move to a bigger house.  But it's not going to happen.  I can't afford to move. I could pretend, for Facebook purposes, that  I am a financial genius who can magic money from thin air but that would be ludicrous.   I love my little house that is bursting at the seems.  I am going to add to it over time but for now the space and crap issue is a battle I am never going to win,  but I will die trying...

I battle with my children.  Today has been the battle of the bed time.  Over Christmas they have been used to going to bed when they want.  We have reigned it in over the last couple of days but nothing prepares them for the "early night"  before returning to school .  Its a battle I never ever lose but they try their hardest to win.  I battle with getting them up, getting them in the shower, getting them to clean their teeth, getting them out the door for school, getting them to do their homework, putting their shoes away and the list goes on.  Its a trivial battle, daily, but a battle nonetheless. 

I battle with the schools.  Fort Hill being my all time favourite school to do battle with.  This term I am expecting a battle because they have changed their school uniform policy four months in.  How silly of them to think that I am not going to go down without a fight.  Skye has the wrong shoes now and the wrong tie.  I haven't bought her new ones for the new term.  I bought her current shoes a week before they decided to change their policies.  I will buy her new "correct" ones when these ones have worn out but when I am ready.  And I will fight.  With teachers who threaten to exclude her, with the Board of Governors (who know me by my first name) and with Hants County Council (who are not far off knowing me by my first name) .  If I believe something is unjust I will fight.  It's just in my nature.

I battle with my weight.  Always have done, always will do.  I have been huge, small, bigger and then small, and then bigger.  I have never been thin but I have been ok for me .  I am about to begin battle again tomorrow.  Just to lose some of the weight I have gained over Christmas.  I am just going to eat healthy and exercise normally.  I am not going to kill myself over it but I know I need to do it because I feel uncomfortable.   I love the new year weight battle.  I do it every year.  Sometimes I win sometimes I lose.  Its this battle that I am happy to occasionally lose because I do love my food.  And drink.  And chocolate.  And cake.  And crisps...

Its no secret that I have battled with Jurgens family.  I wont bore you again with the details but I am always more than happy to fight that battle.  I am currently receiving debt collectors phone calls and letters at my home for Jurgen's family.  This makes my blood boil.   I have never met them and their debt is associated to me at my home... And I think you will find there is not a person in the world who wouldn't be aggrieved by this.  This battle is like a bit between my teeth.  And I will bite and bite like a rabid dog.  I will never win.  You cant win against people who don't see their own shortcomings.  

I am a true battler.  I am good at it.  You know what makes me win, time after time?  My honesty.  If I believe in something then I will battle but I will do it honestly.  And I am big enough and ugly enough to realise I make mistakes and more than happy to apologise when I get it wrong. And  I freely admit defeat in fighting against those who lie.  Its a battle I can never win.  It saddens me greatly that those who choose to lie don't realise that I know they are lying and they just look a little bit more stupid than they did previously.  It pains me that they think I am stupid.  Or maybe they do realise I know.  They MUST know I am not stupid.  But they are too wrapped up in the confusion caused by their very own lies to care.   The good thing for me is that the lies always become apparent.  To everyone.  In the end.   I can't stress enough how its obvious that they lie.  Really obvious.  Shamefully so. 

I do pick my battles carefully.  I do hold a grudge and always will.  I probably should learn to let go but again, its not in my nature.  I am a protective fighter, an aggrieved fighter and a fighter for all that I believe to be right.  I think I will always be a fighter.  I can't ever see it "going over my head".  I'm like my mum, who has always been brilliantly outspoken and wickedly opinionated and we have had some blazing humdingers over time due to our differing opinions but similar pig headedness.

So if I was to have a new year resolution it would be to keep battling.  I am good at it.    I am not letting things go, or moving on with my life.  Get a grip.  I am going to continue to battle with one person, one issue, one child, one husband at a time. Or all of them at the same time if necessary.  I can multi task.

 Its who I am.  I am not going to change me.  I can't change me.   

And like Jurgen keeps warning me....  So what if it ends up giving me a coronary....?