I've done it!

Oh my goodness, I have done it! I have put a holding deposit on a house for the three of us.

Now I know I've done this before, about 2 weeks ago, and the landlord refused us in favour of a 2.4 family unit. I was upset then, it seemed that I was never meant to escape and I have to say I still liked that house better. However we have kept looking over the last 10 days or so, and after much mind boggling confusedness, sometimes seeing several properties daily, I realised I needed to make a decision.

The children fell in love with a fairly new house in a very built up area. I have a dream to be surrounded by more greenery and trees. There were 2 rented houses, one in each category. Choosing between them was hard.

Last Friday night I felt as though I was loosing my mind and couldn't think straight. My wonderful S.O. took me to the country and his family for the weekend. It was such a relief not to think for a few days and when I returned, things seemed not so bad but I also knew I could no longer wait for the perfect house. I was lucky to have a couple of options and so I needed to decide.

Tuesday night I spent quite a while on the phone to my favourite and very sensible friend. I had tried talking it through with Mum, but she was hopeless! Not her fault, just too close to the situation I guess. Anyway, my wonderful friend listened, reflected back to me and after a while I realised which move was best, sometimes just verbalising the whole thing brings it all into perspective. 'If the children are happy, you will be too' she said, very wisely. I knew she was right.

So yesterday morning I put down a holding deposit on the childrens favourite house and, subject to references (because the landlady has agreed to have a single mum as a tenant already) I should have keys a week tomorrow.

Gosh, I am scared! But very excited too, just keeping a lid on that until my references have cleared and then, well, a whole new way of living I hope!

Mediation..

Mediation yesterday was neither good nor bad. The finances, which we were supposed to be discussing, were pushed to the end because half of the time was spent with husband going over what had been agreed regarding the children weeks before, mostly insisting on deciding a date when he could have both children week on week off.

I have tried hard to push this option to the back of my mind. Last session we just said as and when, no date, leave it to the children to decide. But no, he wants to plan a moment in time. I know it will happen one day, when they are older. I dread it, hope that they will feel too comfortable in the familiar arrangement that they will have got used to and not want to change it, hope that in two years time everyone will have a different perspective....

However the reality is that husband wants to plant the seed of living with him week on week off, now. Hoping that it will become what is expected when the time comes. The mediator asked me what I thought, he mentioned not brainwashing them. I said I did not want to lose them to a 50/50 arrangement, but that when they were older I would trust them to choose. I cannot rock the boat and stake my claim forever. I felt that so much progress was made last time that I didn't want to go back 10 paces. So I agreed that they could decide, in 2 years, whether they wanted to live with their Dad every other week.

I have to trust them, worse, I have to trust him not to put pressure on them. Two years is a long time, things will change for all of us, but I know it will fly by in reality. I hope I do not live to regret not being more assertive, though I don't think I could have refused, it would have jeopardised everything that had gone before. For now I have them, for now.

Half term

It has been a strangely lonely half term, and this is only the feeling I have, in reality it has been reasonably full and fun.

Most half terms, unless we are away, which becomes more and more unlikely these days, are spent enjoying late mornings, meeting friends and playing (the children) and drinking tea (us mums) It is all very pleasant and sociable and keeps me sane. However one arrangement with a friend on Monday did not happen because of illness (theirs) and it left the beginning of the week very empty. We had all been looking forward to seeing them, the children and I. My friend R has a nasty chesty cold and her daughter is worse, they are very fed up not to have done anything all week but feel ill. Poor things.

Yesterday I had a very long call from her regarding all her worries for her eldest daughter who is incredibly neurotic and hardly sleeps, keeping her mother up until 2am most nights, there are health worries and mental health too,she talks about her husband troubles and constant money problems. I listened and wished I could wave a magic wand. In the end I had to finish the call in order to go to a house viewing. I didn't like to stop her mid flow.

Then last night I had a cryptic text at about 10pm. 'Are you there?' it said. Goodness me, I thought, I hope her daughter hadn't taken a turn for the worse, or that her Husband hasn't been harsh with her again or...

I texted back,'Yes I'm here, do you want me to call you?'

'No can't talk out loud' she said. Then another text...

'One of the guinea pigs has just died, I don't know how I'm going to tell the girls in the morning'

I texted back my sympathies and said soothing things (I think). She has a lot on her plate and sometimes small things can be the last straw. Another message from her minutes later 'And now Eldest Daughter has a nose bleed'

'OMG' I texted back 'I don't know how you cope'

'I don't know how you cope either' she acknowledged later.

We all need good friends sometimes

Last Wednesday (part two)

When the old sea dog emerged from the interview room I offered him his seat back, it took him a while to understand me, but he refused my offer, I was glad I had offered.

Number 2 was called in, a large woman, very large. She waddled towards the small room. I wondered how much of the room she would take up with her vastness. The sea dog sat in her chair.

When she reappeared from the interview room, she took four paces forward, towards the seat she had occupied earlier. She shuffled forward again and stood, almost toe to toe, with the Old Sea Dog. She stared at him in silence. The tension in the room rose, a pin could have dropped and crashed to the ground. I could see the poor mans confusion. It took him a while to realise what was going on. Eventually he stood, gave up his seat, and walked to the centre of the room as she sat down heavily, filling the seat as before.

I wondered to myself if I should ask him if he would like my seat again, then person number 3 was called. Obviously the third seat became vacant, but the Old Sea Dog remained on his feet. One experience like that would be enough for anyone in this less than comfortable environment. I felt the tears again. There was no kindness in the room.

Then another man, sitting two seats down the row from where I was sitting, stood and motioned to the Sea Dog that he should take his seat instead. I had noticed this man earlier mostly because his mobile went off every few minutes, sending a jolly Middle Eastern tune, or perhaps it was more 'Bollywood', around the waiting room. He was a short stubby man, dressed from head to toe in black, I couldn't make out the language he spoke into his phone.

The Bollywood ring tone man gently insisted to the Sea Dog that he should use his seat. The Sea Dog gratefully accepted. The Bollywood ring tone man then sat in the seat belonging to the person in the interview room. Woe betide anyone who expected that seat back again!

The right thing had been done. There was kindness in the room, it wasn't totally a 'dog at dog' world.

We sat in silence, the rest of us, avoiding gazes, only the occasional mobile phone conversation added interest to the icy room. One by one the seats became empty, people moved on, the tension drained but the coldness remained. Outside the snow fell.

Was the wait worth it? No, not really. I learnt nothing new about my position. No financial help was available. Joint funds mean no help, despite my low income. I am lucky, I guess, to have any savings at all. It's still a tricky 'on the edge' type of existence alone though. When I am penniless I can live rent free. I hope it never comes to that.

Last Wednesday (part one)

I am the last person in the waiting room. There is a biting draft blowing around my ankles caused by the two inch gap between the ill fitting front door and the stone step beneath. Outside it has started to snow, though over three hours ago, when I was queuing outside, the sky had been blue and the day held such promise.

When the doors opened at 9.30am I was given a card with the number 13 on it, there were two more people behind me. By the time we had all passed through the doors into the chilly room, all the seats were full and someone was occupying the floorspace near the only bit of wall without a door in it.

I stood

The atmosphere was tense. Everyone in the room needed attention, urgently. There were 10 appointments and 15 clients.

Within a few minutes a man came out of the office to address the whole room, explaining the system; a five minute interview with each person in the room to identify need and then an interview to deal with the problem, if you were lucky...

Number one was called, an older man, with the look of an 'Old Sea Dog' about him, large misted eyes and possibly hard of hearing, he stood and entered the interview room.

I went to sit on his seat and waited. I read the posters around the room, domestic violence, help with debts, racial violence, teenage pregnancy... It was a depressing place. The tears stung my eyes, and rolled silently down my cheeks as I fished for a tissue in my pocket to hastily mop them up.

When the old sea dog emerged from the interview room I offered him his seat back, it took him a while to understand me, but he refused my offer, I was glad I had offered.

Number 2 was called in, a large woman, very large. She waddled towards the small room. I wondered how much of the room she would take up with her vastness. The sea dog sat in her chair.

The room was still full, and twitchy. In the corner was a radio blaring out the local station, lots of jolly tunes in such juxtaposition to the mood of the room. It wasn't until sometime later that I noticed the thick chain that secured it to the radiator cover. Above the radio was a clock on the wall, it said 9.30 am, the time that the doors had opened, when I left four hours later it still said the same time in the waiting room. . .

One step forwards and seven back.

I have had the worst week in ages this last seven days. Wednesday was a horrible day and I need to write about that soon, but after having a week to ten days of mental turmoil (plus the last year or so!) about whether I can afford to move out and rent a house for the three of us, I really thought it was all over. I made the decision, wise or not, to live for the moment. Mental health was more important than long term financial security.

So yesterday I took the children to a second viewing of a lovely house. They instantly liked it as had I on first inspection. It was cheaper than the other good one we had seen the week before. So, after weeks of sleepless nights, I took the plunge. Said yes, wrote the check and took the form away with me to fill in for references etc.

Apparently there was someone else having a second viewing today. The agent told me if I could get the form back to them first thing in the morning, they could cancel all the other viewings and the house would be mine subject to references. The children and I spent the evening at home (without husband) chatting excitedly about it all. There seemed no doubt that the house would be ours and that we could move in in a few weeks. All I needed to do was to fill in the form and post it into the agent before work this morning, which I duly did.

This afternoon I had a call. The other viewing had taken place, so both my 'profile' and the other family's profile were put to the landlord to choose which tenant he wanted. Bear in mind I could pay a substantial amount of rent up front.

But hey, as a landlord who would you prefer? A married couple with 2 children or a single mum. It wasn't really a surprise, an easy decision for him I think. Who would want a single mother in their property with two children when a nuclear family is so much more 'reliable'?

I'm sure you can tell I am feeling very raw. I am sobbing as I write. Poor Small Sprog is heart broken too and Tall Girl is swimming and doesn't know yet. I don't want to tell her, she will be devastated too. That's how much we need to get out of here, there really does seem to be no end, even when I try to force the issue.

Everything happens for a reason they say. I really wish I could see the reason behind this one. . .

My kindhearted boy

Small Sprog has gone tobogganing with his cub group tonight. Husband has taken him because I am taking Tall Girl to something else. Small Sprog has been very excited about going.

"I'll take my camera mummy, so you can see what it was all like!" He said this morning when we were alone. He knows that all the photos of the children that his dad takes, on the digital camera, I am never allowed to see, not even the birthday ones.

Husband has a VERY expensive camera which was supposed to be a joint possession. Seems I have lost my half! He downloads all the photos onto his laptop and then immediately deletes them from his camera. I have lost a years worth of memories. But I still have my children, so I can't really complain I guess.

Anyway, I was touched at Small Sprogs thoughtfulness. He wanted to take his camera so he could show me his fab night out. Just how he was going to take a photo of himself tobogganing I don't know, but it was kind and thoughtful of him to think of me. Bless him.

So tonight as I was kissing him goodbye, he said to his dad "I thought I could take my camera. Then I could show. . ."

His thought process stopped for a split second ". . .Tall Girl what it was like"

"It's OK, I've got mine" Husband said. That was it. No question of arguing the point for Small Sprog.

I gave Small Sprog an extra squeeze. I knew he was protecting me and had thought about the situation. I wish, in a way, he didn't have to think like that at all, but I am very thankful for his thoughtfulness.

To Let

Funny how things move on. I went to look at a house last night to rent. All of a sudden it seems possible (unless you look at the finances that is)

I have found myself looking about me recently thinking about what I must remember to take, wondering what I shall be allowed to take. The property that I looked at was unfurnished, I will need to take stuff, we have enough here, but I wonder if he'll let me, physically I mean. It's not going to be pretty is it, the day when I take furniture out of this house?

The house was almost perfect for us really, as rented houses go, but as it is the first I've looked at it felt wrong to commit. Also I have to steel myself until 22nd February, when we have our next mediation session though, as you know, I don't have much hope of that working.

So, I am preparing myself, mentally I guess, for a move of some sort. Over the last year I feel I have lost the ability to organise, the stuffing has been knocked out of me a little, I am not the competent woman I used to be, not inside. The thought of organising services, bills, mortgage or rent repayments single handed seems very scary from here. I used to do it. I used to own my own house and live there by myself, it seemed easy, once. I feel I have 'lost the knack'.

Tomorrow I am off to see another property to let. At least I will have more than one to compare then.

PS. Just realised this is my 450th post!

Happy Weekend to you, whatever you're doing.

Small Sprog the diplomat

'Would you like to sit in the back seat Tall Girl?' Says Small Sprog grinning. How could she refuse?!

I have an ongoing battle with both of them about who sits in the front seat of the car. They can battle about whose turn it is when we are only going on a 5 minute journey, let alone a 'proper' journey! It's endless.

I have asked them to take turns, be sensible and share. I have threatened that if they can't sort it out themselves then they'll both go in the back of the car, always. I have suggested that they could try being kind to each other, along the lines of; 'Would you like to go in the front today, My Lovely Sister'! None of these really works, surprise, surprise!

Until yesterday evening on the way back from Small Sprogs Extra Maths. They both ran to the car, racing and jostling for position, Small Sprog slightly ahead, reached the door, opened it wide and said 'Would you lie to sit in the BACK seat Tall Girl?' I did laugh, rather than offer the front seat, he limited her choices to the worst option! She just had to take it! I wonder how long he'd been thinking about that one?!

He's off school poorly today, I'm not really sure he is really poorly at all, while I sit here with him and worry about the fact that I am having another day off work due to child sickness. . .

Is there no end?

Today I saw my solicitor in order to go through the finances and get it straight in my head before thrashing it all out with husband in mediation in a few weeks time. No problem I thought. That light twinkling at the end of the very long tunnel was certainly shining more brightly last time I looked.

The solicitor and I went over the figures, what I need, what he was offering, the difference between the two. I took a deep breath, 'I'm not sure that this will get sorted out during mediation' I said to her. She nodded her agreement. Court would the be the solution in the event of that being the case. 'So how long would it take then?' I said 'If we have to go to court to settle the finances?'

'You should be sorted by this time next year' she stated

'This time next year?' My heart sank.

At home tonight Tall Girl was unhappy. She wants it all over. Home isn't really home any more. 'It's not like it used to be'

'Will you be happier after we are all separate?' I asked her, steeling myself

'Yes' She replied without hesitating.

The solicitor tells me not to move out. Financially unsound move, she says. But for all our mental healths sake? What price can you put on that? Tall Girl has managed well so far, but right now she is feeling the stress. Small Sprog has been not right for a while now. Decision made. We cannot stay.

My day off this week will be used to seek out suitable rented accommodation, find out what I need to know (It's years since I have rented anywhere), everything is so expensive, all of it more than I earn a month, and there's not much about either. However there will be somewhere for us. There must be. As Tall Girl says, 'we just haven't found it yet'.....

The return

I returned home tonight to my children, I always return to them, I have to, I love them and am very thankful for them but hope that soon, very soon, one day I will not have to face coming home to Husband too. There is no pleasure in returning when he is here.

Before I left on Friday night I tried to impart information about the children that I thought he ought to know. He had been away Thursday night and I felt as though I needed to put him in the picture.Tall Girl had been poorly and off school for a day and a half, Small Sprog had a bucket load of homework to do (Tall Girl had avoided most of hers because she had been away from school) along with is thank you letters to start and guitar practice to do too. Tall girl had some pick-me-ups from the chemist that I thought husband should know about. I wrote it down and tried to impart. I was ignored. It had the desired effect, I was annoyed. I kept calm, on the outside! At least I had left a list of all the childrens things that needed to be done, from years of experience of living with him, I knew that even if he listened, he would not remember.

So when I came home tonight, with a heavy heart, I was not surprised that some of the homework was unfinished, none of the letters were written and, as always, nothing had been done in the house other than cook and wash up. It turns out Tall Girl cooked tonight too, bless her.

I try not to let it get to me, I'm sure husband does it on purpose. Now I will be the one who has to 'crack the whip' to get Small Sprog to finish all his jobs.

I know that when we live in different houses, I won't know that the childrens clothes are not washed, the beds are not changed and the toys are not put away. I will be in happy ignorance, I can't wait. Right now it annoys me beyond belief!

Meanwhile, as I come home with the sole purpose to see my two children, he does his level best to engage them in things that keep them from me. This too will change, the situation is temporary, but it is annoying and sad all at the same time. Small Sprog is whisked off to bed by husband, who then takes far longer than necessary reading a story so that I don't get much time with Small Sprog myself. It is all done for effect, it is hard to ignore.

When Tall Girls bedtime comes along, husband has her in his room with the door shut for ages. She is late to bed. Again.

The arrangement, when we are separated, will be that husband picks up both children after school on Friday night and drops them to me early Tuesday morning. There will be no handover in my house or his, just a quick drop off at the front door in the morning before husband goes to work. All the inconveniences of now will not be possible, there may be others then, but right now I don't want to think about what those might be!

I am sorry to rant. He is a selfish and bitter man, I have added to his bitterness, I cannot wait to escape. Home, here in suburbia, is in such contrast to the peaceful time that was mine this weekend. I am SO grateful for the time away that I have had.

Strangers again...

To become strangers again. How can that happen when you have shared so much with someone over the years?

I have thought about that a lot and I think it is carelessness. We were both careless, the fragility of a beautiful thing is precious, it needs to be nurtured, we forgot to look after it.

I looked after the children instead, I tried hard to look after everything but I can remember the point where I gave up wanting to look after the precious thing. Without me noticing it became less precious, after a while I thought 'why am I nurturing something which has shriveled to almost nothing, no kind words spoken, no good deeds done'. I felt invisible, unimportant, ignored. I was. I had small children, they became the most important things. I lost myself, had no more left to give, I disappeared.

That is how we became strangers, with nothing in common but our two sweet children.

Somewhere along the way, we gave up, he gave up. How curious.

In the room...

Once in the room with the mediator I felt much better. He was peaceful and quietly spoken. We sat down in an office like environment, blinds drawn, chairs arranged in a circle but with more than an arms length apart! I was given a glass of water that I held on to tightly, my comfort blanket, a substitute.

The mediation session started like a team meeting, with the mediator using a flip chart and pen to write headings of what we hoped to discuss. It felt possible then, that all would be well.

He addressed us individually, kept us on track. We spoke to him, rather than to each other. What a skilled man he was. He asked us to think about our motives for this, our reasons for that, directing us all the time to an inevitable compromise and conclusion. We ran over by 15 minutes, a conclusion was reached, we left alone, me via the stairs, husband in the lift.

As I walked out onto the street I could see no one that looked like husband ahead of me, I did not look behind. I was relieved. The street was cold and damp, and as I walked I felt a little numb. The stranger in the room, he knew my children so well, he was there father and he was fighting too.

It was over, to be reviewed in 6 months time from separation. Not ideal, but a start. The children will live mostly with me, and I have avoided them being split up, except for one night in every 2 weeks. That was the compromise, from 3 nights to 1. Next time he will want more.

The waiting room

As I drive towards the center of the city I feel a little faint, sick and not sure if my stomach will last the hour and a half of mediation in store. I try to calm myself, at least I wasn't loosing the children completely, how would that feel? Unimaginable.

I was flustered, couldn't decide where to park, parked in one car park and then realised I was too wobbly to walk the distance, so drove to a closer one which cost a fortune!

Once walking I felt a little better. I was early and didn't want to sit and watch the clock for 15 minutes especially if husband and I were in the same room. Luckily I was first and was directed towards the waiting room. I staked my claim on one chair, putting my bag on the one next to me, as if on public transport. I waited, book in hand but not taking in the words on the page.

Within minutes I heard someone else coming up in the lift. He was ushered to a seat further along the row. A brief nod of acknowledgement was all that passed between us. We sat there, two strangers in a small room, waiting to discuss our dearest children.

I wasn't sad, far too much water under the bridge for that, but it was curious. Sixteen years ago we'd not quite met, and here we were strangers again, but with two precious things in common which we were willing to fight tooth and nail for . . . . .

Today is a good day, for now.

The washing machine is fixed.

The custody is sorted, for now....

A six month trial. Six months will go so fast. I have managed to keep the children together except for one night, so I can cope with that. And they will stay with me more nights than with their father. For now...

I am frightened about the future. But for now I am trying to rest my brain a while and enjoy the little respite I have, knowing they are safe, together and mostly with me.

The mediator was fantastic, a very clever man, who kept his calm and ours. I am very grateful to him.

In four weeks time we will meet again to settle finances. I know for a fact that financial matters will take far longer than 2 hours, if we can settle at all. But that is another story.

Today is a milestone, one that has taken far to long to get too, but has been reached nonetheless. Today there is a very, very small twinkle at the end of a massive tunnel and I think it is getting very slightly larger as I gaze in.

PS. Thank you to everyone who has sent me good wishes, it means a lot to feel peoples kindness, it is very much appreciated.

Good day / Bad day?

Tomorrow is a big day for me, very big.......because.........the washing machine man cometh! Yes, at last! Almost a month to the day, the man is due to turn up to fix my machine. I've waited since Boxing Day, so not bad really!

Since Boxing Day I have been carrying loads of dirty washing around Bristol and the wider area, quite a lot travelled as far as Cheltenham, to willing friends and relatives who have kindly let me use their machines. Thank you so much, you know who you are!

The man is due at 7.30am. No pressure then! Lets hope it is mend able.

And then there is the little matter of the mediation appointment...

If it is a good day, by tomorrow evening I will have a washing machine that works as well as a custody plan that works too. If it's not a good day I will still be carting washing about later this week and court beckons. Please let it be the former....

The Party

If you can grade the enjoyability level of a small boys party by the amount of sweatiness, and stickiness achieved, then I'd say tonight was a huge success! Ooooh was he sweaty!?

It often feels quite odd having a party at a venue other than home, I feel a bit 'once removed' from it, no preparation, no food to shop for, no worrying about what to eat, drink or do, no stress whatsoever in fact! Tall Girls parties are often at home, but boys need more activity and space than home can provide, and seeing as he was not born during clement weather, a party venue seems the logical choice.

This one was fairly extravagant. He chose it and I know that when we are all living separately we will not be able to afford such extravagance, so I decided that this year, double figures no less, we'd go for it.

Now they say you only get what you pay for and I have to say the service was perfect. We had a member of staff designated to us, Max his name was, and he was the nicest most helpful person you could wish to meet. He was great with all the children and nothing was too much trouble. They played in a massive warehouse type place for an hour, ate for half an hour and then did 'Laser Quest' for the last 45 mins. Max organised them into teams and played with them, during one round it was all of the children against him, he was amazing. At one point he said to me that he didn't know how people coped with being parents. I think that was after he had run several laps whilst being shot at! I replied that he was making a much better job of it than I was, as he was the one playing with them and I was not. . .

So, seeing as our personal circumstances are so precarious, and not conducive to a party atmosphere, this was just the best place to be. All the children seemed to have a great time apart from one, who felt sick. There's always one!

Mother of two boys stayed the whole time with me. She was there early, even before we arrived and was the last to leave with me. I thanked her for her support at the end, I don't think she will ever realise how much it meant for me to have her there. I know it sounds silly but I felt protected and less exposed.

One other thing will stick in my mind though. As we left the house for the party, I opened my car door and the children got in, my two and one of Small Sprogs friends from school. It was natural that they all got into my car, we had not long got out of it after the school run, and had only gone in to change and have a snack, so when Husband followed us out of the house and said 'Shall we all go in your car?' it took me by surprise. The thought hadn't occurred to me, in fact I thought he was going to the venue straight from work.

'I don't think so' I replied. I really didn't want him that near physically.

'Tall Girl can squeeze in the back' He insisted

'It's too uncomfortable' she quickly retorted and shut her door.

I was surprised. Was she protecting me? Or did she really not want to share the back seat with her brother and friend?! Whichever it was, she wasn't slow in making herself clear. We travelled separately to and from the venue. Now I only have Small Sprogs actual birthday to get through.

Happy Birthday for Saturday Small Sprog

Love from Mummy x

Sweet dreams and nightmares

'Mummy, I had a lovely dream last night' said Small Sprog sleepily as he teetered, wobbly from sleep, down the stairs this morning.

'Did you?' I replied 'What did you dream about?'

'Well, I was a mole and Tall Girl was a hedgehog, and we were in the jungle together and there was a big screen and I said to her do you want to play and she said.......'

By this time I had forgotten to concentrate.

'That's a lovely dream' I said soothingly when he at last drew breath. 'It's funny' I said 'But I don't think I've ever dreamed I was an animal, I think I am always a person in my dreams'

'You are strange' He said firmly, giving me an odd look, and went on with eating his breakfast.

This evening it is Small Sprogs party and tomorrow it is his birthday. I am looking forward to helping him celebrate, but at the same time not wanting to have to share the time and space with Husband. It is a little like Christmas time again. Actually I am dreading having to be at the party venue tonight with him. We will be the only two adults (apart from the staff at the venue) for a whole 2 and a half hours, with nowhere to hide.

Sometimes things turn out better than you expect. I hope this is one of them.

PS. This morning, just before I left for work I had a lovely text from one of my girl friends saying that she will stay with me for a while at the party tonight. I am blessed with good friends and am very thankful.........

Lunchtime update:

When I returned home from work there was a packet which had arrived for me in the post. Inside was a note from another very good friend, it cheered me up no end, and she had sent me a gift too, something to go with some shoes which I had bought when shopping with her recently.

I am so lucky to have friends who show they care. Thank you x

Next Monday

This coming Monday I have my mediation session with Husband to sort out custody for the children. I am dreading it, really dreading it. Every morning I wake early with all the thoughts and reasoned arguments I have in my head as to why they need to spend the majority of their time with me. I am worried about him having them for a lot of the time, especially Tall Girl on her own for 3 nights. I think his wish to have them is motivated by several things, his wish not to be lonely, his wish to hurt me and an idea that he can look after them if they look after themselves. I still marvel at the fact that he wants to split them up for 3 nights in a week.

I am trying to analyse my motivations about why I want to have them more. It is not loneliness, for I am not frightened of being alone, I have friends,my mum and hopefully will be free to spend time with my SO when they are not with me. I do not want to hurt Husband either.

I hope my motivation for wanting them is because I think it is the best thing for them. I work school hours, can always pick them up and take them to school, can always be there in the school holidays. Together we seem to live a 'normal' existence happily together. I don't put them under pressure, I don't think, I hope.

I think they have enough to cope with by the splitting up of their parents, without the two of them being apart 3 nights every 2 weeks. I don't think that is right for them, but then who knows what he might be able to get away with.

I'm sorry but I need to write this here. I guess there is no use worrying about it until Monday comes, but I just can't help thinking.......

Small Sprogs worries

It is Sunday evening and I am snuggled in bed with Small Sprog. We are both tired and have had a lovely day together which culminated in dancing in the kitchen to very loud music. Now is a moment for quiet time together.

In the dark, lying next to him, I am listening as he describes our new home, a pretend home, one he has never seen or been to. It has a green staircase and the hall has a stone floor. He doesn't like the cold floor or the colour of the stairs. Through a green door is the living room, there is a fire place with a copper chimney breast, he doesn't like the copper. There is a comfy chair and a rug and a big TV. He likes this room, but says it has the feeling of belonging to an old person. In the kitchen there is a shiny cooker and a tumble dryer and a very small TV. I think it is a happy house. In the attic there is a box. 'What is in the box?' I ask.

'Your secrets' He says, you can't look in there. 'But there is another box, my box, where I keep my secrets' He carries on 'And Tall Girl has a box with a mirror in it that you gave to her'

I am entranced at his descriptions, his depth of feeling, his imagination. I can see it all, just as he is describing it. There is a box for worries too, he says. One where you write your worries on some paper, tear it up and put the bits in the box. There is another box for wishes. You write the wishes down and put the paper in the pond. When you pick the paper from the pond the words have floated up to heaven for God to read, then you put the paper back into the wishes box.

He describes to me how the boxes are decorated, his, Tall Girls and mine. I listen carefully, knowing that this conversation is well overdue. He has not been himself of late. I have been away too much and he has bottled up his fears and worries. We all tend to keep him safe from the truth, he doesn't have the full picture. He is worried about the future. He says it is all so confusing.

Tonight I made him a promise that I hope I can keep; I told him we would be happy eventually and that everything would work out fine. I told him to remember two things: To trust me that everything will be ok and that if he wanted to talk to someone, then he should talk to a very lovely lady at his school. I promised him that she would listen and not tell, I know for a fact that that would be the case. I hope I have done enough.

I love him.

We need to move on, for all our sakes.