The Beginning (After The End, which is below)

I know why my wedding sits so firmly in my head as one of the best of days of my life. It is because I organised it all, I had it as I wanted it, each thing perfect and beautiful to me. And, looking back over the long years of marriage, this was probably my Swan Song. The last thing I was in control of, the last creative thing that I did before limits were put in place.

The limits were small and appeared slowly, small things one by one. My choices became narrowed, my wishes eventually ignored. All of it happening slowly over the years.

Yet I am to blame too for this loss of self.

A little more than a year after marriage I had my first child. It threw me sideways, I finished work, became home bound, stuck to the sofa with a newborn for what seemed like forever. I emerged slowly, a new creature, diminished in confidence, smaller, unsure. My world had shrunk, I was a 'kept' woman. My choices were dependent on another. Independence gone.

I have refound myself over the last year. I can have a choice, and it is all mine. I have forged through mountains of problems and climbed what seemed to be insurmountable hurdles to get here, to this point, the point where I become Ms. - such a 'loaded' title.

We, the children and I, are making plans for our new house. I can have the colours I want, I can choose how to spend the money and what to spend it on. It feels good. We have colour charts and magazines. Tall Girl and I are pawing over them, dreaming a dream that can become, to my surprise, a reality.

I have nearly made it. I wasn't sure I ever would. I wasn't sure I would be strong enough to see it through. Freedom, my own home in my own name. Back to the future in a way, for I had my own home before I was married. I gave it up without thinking then. How strange.

The End

Another document to add to the filing cabinet, in the compartment that says 'Passports, Births, Marriages, Divorce'. It's official, The End. From the proposal on 16th July 1994 to the Absolute 16th February 2011 and all of life's little ups and downs in between. Neatness in it's ending if nothing else. The beginning of another chapter, yet, yet...

Yet I can't help looking back to all those precious moments shared. My wedding day, for years ranking the best day of my life, not for the act itself but for the joyous day spent with all my favourite friends and relatives. So long ago now, but still precious, with hundreds of snapshots stored in my brain: My step fathers speech which was embarrassing and not a highlight; the Best Man's speech which made me cry; hoovering in my wedding dress between daytime 'do' and evening (we had the reception in our enormous ground floor flat comfortably sitting 35 for lunch with the rest of the guests arriving for an evening buffet); the smell of lillys wafting through the summer afternoon; the fire-eater as entertainment at night; the inebriated friend cross-legged on the lawn communing with the stars at midnight; the last drunks to leave at 2am. Vivid as though it were only yesterday.

And births, who could forget all the emotion of those days? "Mind his ear" the midwife shouts as the student nurse cuts the cord from around Small Sprogs neck! Another snapshot, shared with another now unrelated.

So no, when the solicitor rang me today and told me my Decree Absolute had arrived on her desk last week I did not shout with glee. "How does it feel?" she asked. I could have said numb, but it took a while to realise the feeling. In a way that piece of paper made no difference at all, for the marriage was over years ago but it is still sad. Something held so precious for a while, now spent. Yet my days go on the same, nothing really has changed at all, moments always there; never can be erased by a piece of paper.

Dressed for all occasions!

I picked Tall Girl up last Sunday from her Dads, to go to the christening. She is wearing a lovely dress which we bought together last year. She has on some suitable shoes and decent tights, she looks grown up. She has some mascara on, but not too much and her hair is straight and glossy.

We get into the car.

'You look lovely' I say as we pull out of the drive

'I've got my shorts on underneath' She exclaims

I give her and odd look and she pulls up her dress to prove it, black tights and denim shorts, with a pretty dress over the top.

'Why the shorts?' I grin

'Well you said it would be cold in church, and I though if we broke down or had and accident, it would be better to have shorts on as well'!

I guess you can never be too sure of how the day will proceed!

Ruby May

Today at a christening, it suddenly struck me how strange life is. There is my Tall Girl with the baby on her lap, beaming and cooing to her as if she were her own. The baby's uncle sits next to me and reminisces about when he held my Tall Girl as a baby, and how her big brown eyes stared out of her small pink face in wonder at the world. And I, in turn, remember holding him at the same age, remember his birth, remember him growing up, all those years ago.

So much water under the bridge since then, so many lives touched, so many twists and turns of fate. Yet here we are, all together for this new small bundles big day, all together again. It is reassuring.

Through my life I have lost touch with lots of people, some on purpose and some with carelessness. Sometimes I search the web to find a name. Pointless of course.

Today I am grateful for my friends.

Parents Evening

Parents evening in a state comprehensive, short hand for bun fight, never my favourite evening of the school calendar I must admit. The large sports hall is riddled with humanity of all shapes and sizes and their offspring. The teachers have 5 minute slots but everyone, seeing as they have made the effort to get there in the first place, wants their 10 penny's worth anyway and this means queues and huffing! After attending for the last three years I have become accustomed to the elbows out and everyone for themselves, dog eat dog sort of an affair. I can elbow with the rest of them if required!

As we stand next in line for the Art Teacher, I notice a couple sidle in from the left. I do my own sidle and take up my starting position for when the couple in front leave their bottom warmed seats for another queue. I can feel the woman of the couple bristle; parents evenings bring out the best in us all
'What time is your slot?' She asks nosily
'5.35' I reply.
She looks defeated (ha) 'We'll let you go first then' she concedes 'Ours is 5.40'
'Thanks' I say through gritted teeth. Bloody cheek is on the tip of my tongue.

On the way home Tall Girl pipes up 'I'm proud of you'
'Oh thanks' I say, glowing with pride.
'I'm glad you are my Mummy and Daddy is my Daddy' She goes on
'Why is that?' I ask
'Well,' she starts 'did you see some of those Mums and Dads in there?'
'What about them'
'Some of them were sooo... well, red hair, bright red, and you know...chavey and... '
She went off in a tirade. The phrase she needed was 'mutton dressed as lamb'!
'So you're proud of us because?'
'Well, you dress like a mum should'
'You mean I look my age?' I asked
'Yep'
Do you know, for one moment there I was almost flattered!

In the afternoon

When we left court we agreed to go for coffee. It felt strange to be there together, drinking coffee and tea. I needed to be there though, together. He needed it too. We had just gone through a traumatic experience together, ships lost in a storm that had brewed for months, years even.

We drank the first cup, he texted 'The judge was a bastard' several times into his Blackberry. We went over the whole 15 minute process again and again. I needed his company, he was the only one who knew how awful the stress of waiting for an unknown 'other' to make a major decision in your life, was like.

We talked about the children, about how they drive us mad! It was so good to hear that they do the same things, we both still say the same things to them. We are united in childcare if nothing else.

I don't want to let him go. We go to the pub, and are the last to leave.

He talks. I remember how good he is at it. I catch up with all the news, of his friends and work stuff, and we keep coming back to the judge and the court.  It's like we have to keep reminding ourselves that it's all over now, we got through it together, like so many other major events over the last 16 years.

We do the school run together and part company. I suddenly feel very alone. I miss him I guess. I miss the history and the easiness of it, not having to explain, the 'knowing'.

When I first met him I hoped we could just be friends, I never intended it to be more than that. Perhaps now, after all these years, that's just what we can be.

Today in court

It took no time at all to navigate through the morning traffic to get to court this morning. I was early. Waiting is always the most painful part of a stressful situation. I sat in the car and waited, to distracted to read. Friends texted and called, the thought that people cared made me cry, how silly is that?

Getting into the court building was like entering an airport, bag searches and metal detectors, queues. The man in front of me kept fishing things from his pockets, going through the metal detector, setting it off and then emptying more things from various pieces of attire. I wondered what he didn't understand about 'emptying pockets' in the first place. Eventually he was relieved of a small pen knife which he had to leave behind the security barrier. At least being a spectator had taken my mind off the proceedings. As I ascended the marble stairs I looked back to see Husband waiting in the queue for security.

We never intended to go to court. We had done all we could to avoid it in fact. We had been brought to court today by a judge who wouldn't sign our consent order.

In September we agreed terms, not equal, but almost. I wanted it over and wasn't prepared to spend more money and time quibbling through the courts. The solicitors drew up the agreement and sent it to the judge to approve. He sent it back saying it was not a fair split, no pension rights. Twice we returned it, assuring the judge it was what we wanted. During this time, months of it, my lease was getting close to the end of it's time. It became more urgent to get a settlement.

In the court room today the judge provided no preamble. As soon as we were seated he proclaimed that he was not going to pass the order. I put my head in my hands, Husband looked pale. The judge repeated this several times, both solicitors trying to say that we were all in agreement but no, he was not here' to rubber stamp' the order we had agreed on.

I was waiting for him to speak to me. He did not. All of a sudden I could hold back no more. Don't ask me what I said, I can't remember now, but it was heartfelt, said through tears and said with conviction. We had agreed, nothing would change my mind. Whatever I said, it convinced him. He signed it, we were free. Almost.

Fifteen minutes in court, seemed like a lifetime. As we left the room the  whole thing seemed very surreal. I turned to husband and we hugged. We had both suffered the stress and tension. He turns 60 next year, his pensions will ensure he can have a reasonable lifestyle while his children grow up. It is important, to us both.

'I was going to text you this morning' He said in my ear 'Parsnip' I laughed, and cried together. It was a joke, from long ago, that's the trouble with knowing the same person for a long time. We have so much history.
'You ok?' I ask
'Need a drink' he says.
Our solicitors look on amused. You'd probably not have guessed, as an outsider, that we had just ended our marriage, the decree absolute only weeks away...

THE day...

Court tomorrow, please let it be over soon.

On the more comical side of things, apparently a lorry blew over today on the M60. Not funny in itself at all, but I did think about Tall Girl and her worry about the bus falling over in the wind. Not so silly after all. I hope she doesn't see it on the news, or I'll never get her to school in the morning.

A windy morning, a stormy night in fact and a little wan voice calls from the top of the stairs in the gloomy half light that is just before 7am.

It is Tall Girl, it is Friday morning, and she knows I am not going to work. In her head this means she doesn't have to go to school. I need her to go to school, I can't rest in the house unless it's empty. A luxury to have an empty house. I feel selfish, for a moment. Then I pull myself together, there is nothing wrong with her and she needs to go to school.

'I can't hear you' I shout up the stairs to her. She comes down. 'What did you say?' I ask
'Is it too windy to go to school?' She whines
Too windy to go to school? I laugh, probably not the right response.
'The bus might blow over' she exclaims.
Bless, she really does hate the wind. I wonder whether to have a talk about forces, gravity and the fact that Double Decker buses are heavy at the bottom. I decided against.

She sat sulkily at the breakfast table, a well practised stance often used to make mummy's guilty in the morning for being heartless enough to insist that school was a place where you should be.

Gradually we managed to get the whole morning routine rolling slowly but surely towards the point of leaving the house.
'Don't worry' I tell her as I kiss her good bye at the door 'If it's too windy the buses won't run'
I have my fingers crosses behind my back!

Small Sprogs derision!

I have managed to get a job done that has been bothering me for ages. It is always a relief to get things done that are haunting you, in this case my filing! I had a sort of system, it was called 'Putting all the stuff into one drawer and forgetting it'! It worked quite well in as much as I knew where everything was, it just took an age to find one piece of paper in the midst of hundreds.

Anyway I took the bull by the horns one evening and started to put neat piles on the carpet all around me. Small Sprog was watching TV and could see me from the sitting room.

After a while curiosity got the better of him. He looked about. I had more or less emptied the drawer and the piles were strewn across the landing and up the stairs. 'What are you doing?' He asked in his best disdainful voice.
'My filing' I said to him 'I'm having a tidy up'.
He surveyed the chaos. 'And how's that going for you?' He replied.
Cheeky little ******!

The last few days...

My friend and I talked things over. It was good to talk.

On Monday I handed in my notice for one of my jobs. I feel I can no longer cope. I still travel the 90 miles round trip to see Mum when I finish work. She thinks it does me good to sit and do nothing at her house. In reality it adds to the stress, too much to do, not enough time. I leave her at 7.15 in order to get to my book club at 8.15. My last task of the day. I really don't feel like going but my lovely friends have arranged it on a night that I am child free, so I feel I should attend. When I finally get home it is passed 10pm. I had left the house before 8am. I am shattered and know this is all the last straw.

The stress has reached my digestive system. Over the weekend I feel sick, can't eat, and when I do it doesn't stay long in my system. I phone the Doctor again and she signs me off work. It is a relief. I have used the time to sleep these last two days, I have slept between school runs and again at night. I am hungry for sleep.

Today I found out that I have lost the house I wanted to buy. Not a surprise really.

On the plus side I have a court date now, a week today. Several months too late! Maybe soon I can get on with my life. If the spring would just get on and arrive, perhaps things would look much better!

How has your week been so far?

Just fine

'It's muscular' the Dr reassured me after looking at my neck. Typically, at that moment, it was not as painful as it had been over the last month, so emphasising where it hurt and how it keeps me awake at night was hard and probably unconvincing.

No solution, was his diagnosis, stress related. 'Are you stressed?' He asked. I nod. He looks at me enquiringly.Over the last month I have repeated the list to myself so many times it comes out in a matter of fact way, the words tumble tonelessly from my mouth: 'My lease runs out next month and I can't afford the rent if I renew it. Another 6 months rent would be a years worth of mortgage. My nearly ex husband has the money he owes me, which would enable me to buy a house I can afford but the solicitor won't let him give it to me. Meanwhile I may loose the new house. The judge insists we go to court but I can't afford to pay the fees. My temporary job ends in 7 weeks, I hate it but need the work. I hate it so much I feel like I have lost all the fun of living.'

I look at him, tears rolling down my cheeks involuntarily. My eyes leak often and readily these days. However the list is just a list. Nothing anyone can do and repeated in my head so often it appears before me like words read from a text book.

He says nothing. They don't make pills and potions for those sorts of problems. And anyway, I bet half his clientèle have the same problems or worse, most likely much worse.

I want to scream at him, beg him, 'Sign me of work please, because I don't think I can take any more' But I know I need to keep on working, being off sick will only make my working life more intolerable on my return. And then there's my 'time off and sick record' to worry about.

No solution then. I leave the consultation room and head for the toilet to dry my eyes and compose myself, Small Sprog is in the waiting room, sitting patiently. I don't want him to see me upset. In a moment I will meet him with a smile and a 'Shall we go now?' and up he will jump and follow me out of the surgery. 

And so life goes on. We go through the motions, the everyday routine, practised and guarded, no one would ever know...

These days my life is so busy I don't seem to see anyone else I can talk to and it doesn't seem right to burden friends. But sometimes the burden squashes in on me. I pick up the phone tonight to call Mum but when she answers I know she is busy by her tone. 'Not to worry' I sooth 'Just phoning up to see how you are' She tells me briefly how she is, but needs to return to her visitor. She asks how I am. 'Oh I'm just fine' I say 'Just fine'

Eleven Years

Eleven years ago tomorrow I gave birth to the light in my life. As he came out I remember the nurse saying to the student 'Mind his ear!' as they cut the cord that was around his neck. He has been in many scrapes since then.

There was no suffering after his birth, no depression that I was so afraid would haunt me again as it had after the previous birth. He was beautiful, born with a sunny nature. I loved him, love him still. My Small Man, I love him so much it hurts sometimes.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SMALL SPROG!

Unhappy

I know I should be writing a grateful list, and I am truly grateful for so many things, but during these last few weeks I have found that the negative thoughts have taken over. Perhaps it's the time of year, or the economic climate. Perhaps it's the sudden realisation that financially I am alone.

On New Years Eve I had too much time to think. I mentally reviewed the last two years, new year always makes me reflective. Since then I have been tearful and I can't seem to get out of it. Quite often I'm feeling under the weather, but not enough to stop. If only I could stop.

Work has been fractious, with abusive children, fighting teenagers and, in another job, a small boy who refuses to do anything that he is asked to to. I feel tired before I get to work, by the end I'm exhausted. I am forgetting things, simple things like which words to use. It's a little frightening. Normally I can cope, but not recently.

Tomorrow I am looking at a house to buy, soon I need to move but there is still no sight of the settlement. On one hand I am counting the weeks until my temporary job ends, 10 in all, and on the other by then my lease will have run out. I have no cash to buy us a home and once my temporary job finishes my working tax credits will stop until I can find more work. Finding work is becoming increasingly difficult. I need my working tax credits to afford the mortgage I want. It seems an endless circle of things just not happening in the right order. Sometimes it doesn't seem too unreasonable to ask for a break does it? Just a little, very little small one, just this once?

If the cash came through next week things might look better. But I fear, even if it did, it will not dispel the blues now.

A Small Sprogism

Small Sprog watches his sisters teen DVDs through is fingers when kissing is involved; he really isn't impressed with all that kissing lark. However he almost got more than he bargained for when, whilst playing games on line, he clicked on a link. Hmmm, a new game he thought. He was telling me this in the car on the way to an evening event at his sisters school.
'But you'll never guess what Mummy?' He says in a most indignant way
'What?' I reply, trying to keep my eyes on the traffic.
'It wasn't a new game at all and I'm not going there again' I became a little worried, where had he 'been' in the virtual world?
'What was it then, if it wasn't a game?' I braced myself
'It was one of those ''mating''sites' He shuddered at the thought
'Mating sites?' I said with slight panic, then it suddenly dawned on me, and Tall Girl at the same time. Dating sites is what he meant, we roared with laughter at his utter disgust!
Dating not mating? Or perhaps he was right after all.

Flu Jab

Small Sprog was due his flu jab. He hates it, hates needles, hates doctors, hates viruses, so he said. 'I'd like to kick them (viruses) in the bollocks!' he muttered as we entered the surgery. I didn't like to remind him that viruses don't have bollocks and I let him get away with the word, as no one heard, and he was under great stress!

His appointment was after school, but with a bottom clenching wait of 40 mins between one and the other. The waiting is worse than the deed itself. Not enough time to do much but certainly too much time to sit and wait. He'd have exploded had I made him do that! However as he came out of school, all sad and dejected, knowing his fate, he asked to go home to use the toilet. I asked him if he could go back into school instead of us driving home, but he shook his head.

On the way home I suddenly realised that the whole thing might be a ruse. He didn't really need the toilet, but was going to lock himself inside it again as he had done before!
'You're not going to lock yourself in the loo again are you?' I asked. He shook his head. At home he made for the downstairs loo. When he came out he announced 'It would have been no good anyway, you can unlock this one from the outside!'

I wonder when that had dawned on him?

We got to the Doctors bang on time but still had to wait. I could tell he was near tears, it was all just too much. He was still muttering to himself when the nurse appeared, all sweetness and light. She proceeded to chat, and time seemed to move very slowly. In the end I just had to say 'I'm really sorry but I think he'd really appreciate getting it over and done with!' He didn't need bedside manner, just 'jab and go'. She looked at him, and remembered the last time, the time when he was nearly sick. He was stabbed almost immediately. There. All over and done with in a second.

As we left the surgery, much brighter than when we had entered, he was still kicking viruses...

Twelfth Night

Twelfth night and the tree was ceremoniously disposed off from the first floor French window last night! The baubles are all carefully packed away again for another year. I realised as I was taking down all the decorations that this is the second year running that I am lovingly wrapping them up and putting them into boxes, not knowing where I'll be next time they are unwrapped.

I had put off the thought of 'what next' because it was only December. Yet now that it is January and a new year, the realisation that I have 2 months left in this house becomes suddenly a bit too close for comfort. I was working to the 12th March, but realised I signed the year long lease on 5th March. Two months left, and no idea what I can do yet. Money/divorce still not through, yet I really don't want /can't afford another 6 months rent here. I am pushing the thought to the back of my mind...

Meanwhile Small Sprog is home from his Christmas holiday with his dad and Tall Girl came back tonight. As I write she is in the bath, radio on, singing full blast to herself. 'Pop music' my Mum would have called it. I remember being 14 and singing along to the radio all the time, obsessed with the 'Top 40' Chart Show. So long ago now. And here I am with my own girl trilling beautifully from the smallest room in the house. It was lovely to hear, it warmed my heart. Welcome home.

Always expect the unexpected!

Always expect the unexpected, especially at this time of year. There is something very annoying about New Year, and it's not just the way that the TV programmes are the same every single year for eternity, though that goes some way to explaining it, no its more than that. It is expectation.

Two years ago I had a friend and her family around for a meal, but ended up walking the streets with her, close to midnight, listening to her marriage problems. I expected an uncomplicated evening with food and friendship but got very cold and missed saying Happy New Year to my children.

This year I will miss them too, they are with their dad having a party at the nit children's house. Who'd have thought my lovely children would be out partying all night at barely 14 and 10 whilst I am in bed blogging and having a virtual blog party by myself?!

I've enjoyed visiting you all tonight and leaving my best wishes. I didn't bring the lump of coal because it was making a mess of my keyboard, however I would have loved to have partied with you all and maybe had a drink or two of something nice and sparkly over at yours. However, things are never as you expect and so tonight I think I'll just toddle off and have an almost early night.

See you all next year (at least I'll wake up without a hangover in 2011!)

HAPPY 2011!

Looking back, looking forward...

Last Christmas was not one of the best in the world, it was the culmination of a whole year of living in the same house but apart. It was hard, a strain, but it happened none the less and we all survived it. A whole year ago. I keep getting flash backs of it. My world was much smaller then and I spent a lot of time in my room. I can remember wondering, where I would be and what I would be doing at Christmas and New Year the following year, for these are our markers in time. And all of a sudden, here I am, here we are.

Are we nearly 'there' yet? Well almost, not quite but almost. The next three months will be a challenge but I have plans and I can see them more clearly now. 

Two years ago, when I suddenly knew what had to be done, it seemed such a massive task. There are 2 things that I remember from back then. The first is the feeling of being immersed in my work one day therefore forgetting about the massive thing I was about to do, and then coming out of work and the whole enormity of it hitting me, almost physically, with a stomach wrenching terror. The second thing is Small Sprogs smile. 

He always smiled, and I imagined how, once I started to put my plans into motion, his smile might disappear forever. I still worry about his smile... 

However I have faired well so far, fingers crossed. We are very very lucky. I followed my plan, and it's worked out better than I could have imagined. And as for Small Sprog, he couldn't wait for Christmas, he bounced with excitement and he is still smiling, a lot.

My Christmas 'grateful' list

Things I am enjoying about this time of year:

Icicles and the fun of watching them grow!

The biggest window on the advent calendar, I can still feel the excitement and anticipation of wanting to see what's inside as if I was small again.

Looking back at the good things that have happened this year.

The luxury and good fortune of pottering in the kitchen, making Christmas food that we don't really need but is fun to make.

Turkish Delight, the box of it beckoning from the side table in the sitting room! Small Sprog has some now, he is lying prostrate on the fur throw on the old sofa, Turkish Delight held high, before liking off all the icing sugar and then devouring it. Decadence indeed!

Feeling the stress of work wash slowly away.

Close friends and loved ones, spending happy times together. There's nothing like joint celebrations to bring everyone together. I loved my present wrapping evening with my girl friends, which turned into a very late night!

Watching Small Sprog on his home made sledge whizz dangerously about screaming, or is it me screaming?

Planning! There's nothing like having a project and a list!

The hope that this time of year brings, not just for what is under the tree but for the coming year ahead.

The excitement of children. My lovely children, sometimes I feel as though my heart will burst. At others I feel the normal things like 'Oh for goodness sake!'

Not being at work. Waking in the morning with out having to set the alarm.

The bliss of sitting in bed, radio on and a large cup of steaming tea on the bedside table.

Simple pleasures all. I am content and making the most of the next 48 hours before my children go away...

Merry Christmas

I know this time of year can be sometimes far from perfect, take heart in

 the fact that things never stay the same forever.

 May all your hopes come true.