I woke up with an oppressive sense of melancholy. Whereas most days I enjoy the fluidity and challenges of my life today it just seems depressing. Lots of negative stuff swimming round in my head.
How is my lovely little girl going to survive as she moves through the school system? She is my bright and shining star but because of her disabilities maths, reading and writing is just a mystery to her. How do I keep her self esteem intact as she falls father and father behind at school? Do I give my beautiful eldest girl enough of my time when I so busy helping youngest with everything from school work to learning how to dress so that she can fit in with the normal kids? What is normal anyway? Why can't I just have a regular relationship with the man who is still technically my husband? Why does he see his girlfriend for lunch and then invite me round for dinner? What are we playing at? Why can't we let go? How am I going to get a promotion at work and fit it in with the hours that I need to work to be here with the family? Am I doing enough to help my mother? Probably not as far as she is concerned. Who is going to clean out the goldfish?
Think I'll start by tackling the goldfish.
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Friday, 8 May 2009
Note to self
I read a letter that Stephen Fry had written to his 16 year old self in the Guardian this week. I thought about the advice I would give myself knowing how things would unfold. Even with hindsight I am not sure I would change much.
"Dear me,
Boy are you in for a surprise. Let's just say that things don't turn out as planned but before you panic there is not that much you need to do differently.
I know that right now you are a lanky, slightly swotty, very uncool girl with hideous blue glasses longing for something else out of life but not sure what. Ditch the glasses asap - it's a cliche but it will make all the difference. Stick with the books though kid - you will soon escape "Smallgrimtown-upon-Slagheap" (as you now affectionately think of it) to the place that you will know immediately is your spiritual home.
Don't worry if the first wedding doesn't go as planned. You get a chance to put the mistakes right at wedding no. 2. The two marriages thing might come as a bit of a surprise but you will understand when you get here. And listen up - it all works out with Husband No 1 after you split up. You will both become the best of friends and he will agree that you did the best thing by leaving. So don't carry the guilt of leaving around with you for so long.
It's tempting to say avoid Husband No. 2 (he whom you will come to know as the Prince of Darkness) like the plague but actually you will have some of the best times of your life with him and you won't want to miss out on them.
And the following are very, very important:
- Don't have that perm in your first year at university. It will look dreadful and do something very odd to your scalp.
- Spend more time with your father - he isn't going to be around for ever.
- All that stuff about high factor suncream is right - use it so that you don't end up with sun damaged skin.
- When your parents give you a car after you pass your driving test try not to crash it the second time you take it out. Its going to knock your confidence behind the wheel for years otherwise.
If all of this sounds a bit scary you need to remember that even if you change nothing you will be ok and you are in for a hell of a ride.
With love,
Your Older Self"
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Feeling delicate
I might have had the teensiest bit too much of the cooking sherry last night. But I was in a celebratory mood. I'm off to Blog Camp, as fabulous logo to the right will testify. Clearly as unaccustomed to alcohol as I am (I can almost hear the snorts of derision from my friends as I type that) it has left me in a slightly fragile state this morning. And as a result of that the spots had to go from this blog. What was wrong with me? Did I never notice them before? Anyway today they did my head in and and so they have been banished.
I entertained eldest daughter and ex-stepson (I'm not sure if you can ex a step child so I shall continue to refer to him as stepson) by singing "I am off to blog camp" (to the tune of "lets all do the conga"). I hasten to add that this was before the celebratory sherry. They thought it was very weird that (a) I was singing and (b) I was travelling to a foreign country to meet people I hadn't met in real life.
Whilst I went off to have a little sing to myself in the kitchen and cook dinner they commandeered both the laptops and set themselves up at the dinning table. They were both engrossed and I asked them what they were up to.
"We are both on MSN" came the reply.
"Who are you talking to?" I asked.
"Each other"
And they think I'm weird. I rest my case.
I entertained eldest daughter and ex-stepson (I'm not sure if you can ex a step child so I shall continue to refer to him as stepson) by singing "I am off to blog camp" (to the tune of "lets all do the conga"). I hasten to add that this was before the celebratory sherry. They thought it was very weird that (a) I was singing and (b) I was travelling to a foreign country to meet people I hadn't met in real life.
Whilst I went off to have a little sing to myself in the kitchen and cook dinner they commandeered both the laptops and set themselves up at the dinning table. They were both engrossed and I asked them what they were up to.
"We are both on MSN" came the reply.
"Who are you talking to?" I asked.
"Each other"
And they think I'm weird. I rest my case.
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Walking worries
I received a very disturbing e-mail today.
But before I launch into that I need to set the scene. I am a member of a walking group. Actually that sounds a bit formal. Me and three good friends go walking once a month and once a year we like to set ourselves a walking challenge. We kind of peaked the first year when we did trailwalker. The aim being to get your team of four 100km over the South Downs in under thirty hours. That's 63 miles with no sleeping. We did it in just over 29 hours. At this point I could wax lyrical about the highs (the camaraderie, the sunrise over the mist in the valley, the enormous sense of achievement) and the lows (the state of the toilets, the cramps, the blisters, the silent sobbing at 4am, what extreme endurance events do to your stomach hence the state of the toilets) but I shall refrain and simply say - great to have done it but NEVER EVER AGAIN.
Last year we attempted the Yorkshire Three Peaks and for the first time in the history of our walking challenges we didn't complete it. The weather was appalling and half way up the second peak I was blown over. Literally. At that point we decided to call it off after having visions of being trapped up there with only a dry stone wall for shelter and our rations dwindling to a bit of squashed Kendal Mint Cake which was sure to be lurking at the bottom of someones rucksack. We limped off the mountain in the driving rain (it almost goes without saying that we were at the furthest point away from the car)and began a very long, very wet, very depressing trudge back.
Safely back at the hotel, warm, dry and armed with a large tooth mug of wine each we vowed to return. So we are going back this year. The aim is to do the three mountains (23 miles) in under 12 hours. And this is the point where we get back to the e-mail. It transpires that my friends have been doing extra training. I am almost tempted to say extra secret training although to be fair they have all mentioned it before. Its just that its only just dawned on me that I have done nothing extra. Unless you can count my clothes shopping trip with eldest girl at the weekend as some sort of cross-training on the basis it involved walking round the shops and holding shopping bags?
We have a fifteen mile training walk on Sunday. Fingers crossed that I can keep up.
But before I launch into that I need to set the scene. I am a member of a walking group. Actually that sounds a bit formal. Me and three good friends go walking once a month and once a year we like to set ourselves a walking challenge. We kind of peaked the first year when we did trailwalker. The aim being to get your team of four 100km over the South Downs in under thirty hours. That's 63 miles with no sleeping. We did it in just over 29 hours. At this point I could wax lyrical about the highs (the camaraderie, the sunrise over the mist in the valley, the enormous sense of achievement) and the lows (the state of the toilets, the cramps, the blisters, the silent sobbing at 4am, what extreme endurance events do to your stomach hence the state of the toilets) but I shall refrain and simply say - great to have done it but NEVER EVER AGAIN.
Last year we attempted the Yorkshire Three Peaks and for the first time in the history of our walking challenges we didn't complete it. The weather was appalling and half way up the second peak I was blown over. Literally. At that point we decided to call it off after having visions of being trapped up there with only a dry stone wall for shelter and our rations dwindling to a bit of squashed Kendal Mint Cake which was sure to be lurking at the bottom of someones rucksack. We limped off the mountain in the driving rain (it almost goes without saying that we were at the furthest point away from the car)and began a very long, very wet, very depressing trudge back.
Safely back at the hotel, warm, dry and armed with a large tooth mug of wine each we vowed to return. So we are going back this year. The aim is to do the three mountains (23 miles) in under 12 hours. And this is the point where we get back to the e-mail. It transpires that my friends have been doing extra training. I am almost tempted to say extra secret training although to be fair they have all mentioned it before. Its just that its only just dawned on me that I have done nothing extra. Unless you can count my clothes shopping trip with eldest girl at the weekend as some sort of cross-training on the basis it involved walking round the shops and holding shopping bags?
We have a fifteen mile training walk on Sunday. Fingers crossed that I can keep up.
Monday, 4 May 2009
Pretty in pink
Youngest daughter believes that no occasion is too small to dress up for. Grandpa coming to visit....hang on I'll just pop on a tutu. Going out for a plate of pasta at the italian place down the road....not without my tiara. The inevitable response to "what do you want to wear today?" is "a pretty dress" which actually means "a pretty pink dress".
I'm not really sure where she gets it from. I am certainly not a pink person. I'm not really a dress person although I do own them. When I choose clothes I am not really aiming for "pretty". I like to think I am aiming for chic but goodness only knows if thats were I end up.
Today we decide to go to the movies and, of course, this is an ideal occasion for youngest to throw on a pink confection. As I stand in front of my (largely black) wardrobe inspiration strikes and I decide to be guided by the fashion principles of a 7 year old. So yes, the dress is black but look - yellow sandals! (I believe that these are the first ever yellow shoes I have owned and I am feeling inordinately proud of them.)
I'm not really sure where she gets it from. I am certainly not a pink person. I'm not really a dress person although I do own them. When I choose clothes I am not really aiming for "pretty". I like to think I am aiming for chic but goodness only knows if thats were I end up.
Today we decide to go to the movies and, of course, this is an ideal occasion for youngest to throw on a pink confection. As I stand in front of my (largely black) wardrobe inspiration strikes and I decide to be guided by the fashion principles of a 7 year old. So yes, the dress is black but look - yellow sandals! (I believe that these are the first ever yellow shoes I have owned and I am feeling inordinately proud of them.)
Let's just have one more picture of the sandals...
Anyway, as my mind wandered during the movie I realised that youngest's approach to fashion is really all about the "nowness" of being a kid. Living in the moment. After all, if you don't put your Snow White outfit on to go the supermarket who knows when you might next have an opportunity to wear it? It's not a bad fashion principle to live by. In fact its not a bad principle to live by. Full stop. Although I am still working up to wearing the tiara into the office.
Sunday, 3 May 2009
Sunday to myself
I have an unheard of Sunday to myself. Both of the girls are with their fathers. I really should do at least one of those jobs that have been on my mental list of things to do since at least last summer - clean out my wardrobe (I have a scary woman coming to visit me in June to go through my wardrobe and tell me what my colours are) or sort out the paper work to minimise the chances of death by paper avalanche everytime I open the bureau. I am not joking. See?
But I have decided to do exactly what I want to do. Read my book, maybe watch a film and eat prawns doused in lemon juice and covered in black pepper. I may even stretch out on the sofa and drift off to sleep warmed by the sun coming through the window. Or take the beanbag out onto the roof terrace and lie in the sun listening to the sounds of other peoples sunday afternoons drifting up from the gardens below.
And the very best bit of this day of indulgence will be when youngest returns tonight and she cuddles up on the sofa next to me just before bedtime and we make plans as to what we will do tomorrow when I won't I have any time to myself and I will love every last minute of it.
But I have decided to do exactly what I want to do. Read my book, maybe watch a film and eat prawns doused in lemon juice and covered in black pepper. I may even stretch out on the sofa and drift off to sleep warmed by the sun coming through the window. Or take the beanbag out onto the roof terrace and lie in the sun listening to the sounds of other peoples sunday afternoons drifting up from the gardens below.
And the very best bit of this day of indulgence will be when youngest returns tonight and she cuddles up on the sofa next to me just before bedtime and we make plans as to what we will do tomorrow when I won't I have any time to myself and I will love every last minute of it.
Saturday, 2 May 2009
Sure can pick 'em
The husbands are both lovely. Of course not both are current - that would be WRONG! Number one (defintely ex, father of eldest) rang me up at work yesterday. He had finished reading the book I bought him for his birthday whilst standing in a queue at a coffee shop at the park. He told me he had tears in his eyes. I told him to shut up or I would start crying at work. (The Gargole by Andrew Davidson, a wildly imaginative story of redemptive love, one of my favourite books so far this year).
Number two (technically current, father of youngest and also known as the Prince of Darkness) tells me that he has a present for me when I drop youngest off at his house for the weekend. It involves a short drive and me not asking questions. We arrive at a playing field and then after a short walk to the most beautiful wood, hidden from view, filled with a sea of bluebells pierced by shafts of late evening sunlight. What a gift. I did start crying.
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