Missing

My Mum has always been a bit forgetful. It has nothing to do with age. When I was little she would take me shopping, and then, when we had bought everything she needed, she wouldn't be able to remember where she had parked the car. I remember walking the streets of my home town, trying to find her little red Mini before the traffic warden did! Far more recently there was the time when she dove off down the road with several Christmas presents balanced on the car roof and didn't stop until several people had gesticulated wildly at her. She has a history of loosing things...

She came down to see me on Monday, and to see Small Sprogs school play, in which he had a very small speaking part. I met her, as I always do now, just off the motorway junction because she's not confident driving in the city.

Despite trying to be on time, there she was, as I drove into the car park, sitting on a bench in the sun. I parked my car and walked to where she was, apologising for being late. She said she was perfectly happy waiting and had been into M&S to buy me some strawberries, bless her.

Anyway, before we set off back to my house, we went to her car to get something she had forgotten. And that's when she realised. No car key. We tipped out her handbag. Twice. Looked under the car, back to the bench. Nothing. She began to panic and, as I tried to keep her calm, I suggested we went back into the shop to see if it had been handed in. Thankfully it had. So off we went, happy that all was well. We had lunch at my house and went to watch Small Sprog, who was good in his play and very much himself, if you know what I mean?

However at the end of the performance we were informed that there was to be a collection for Cancer research, everyone delved for change during the encore and guess what? Mum couldn't find her purse. Oh no, I thought, she can't have lost that as well as her keys, not all in one day surely? She panicked and visibly grew old before my eyes. 'It's OK I soothed, we'll find it, but you just need to sit there for another few minutes until the performance is finished, then we can go and search for it'

I thought she was going to get up and rush out of the school hall. Instead she buried her head in her hands. The look of her reminded me of when she suffered a horrible depression after her mother died. One day, when I was younger and single, she sat in my house and proclaimed that life was no longer worth living. It is a hard thing to hear and at the time I had only a little understanding of just how awful depression was. It took a while back then, and medication, for her to recover but I got her back. How much she would have missed if she had got her wish?Two grandchildren for one thing.

Sometimes though, I think I still see the shadows of depression clouding her face, she is better but damaged. I feel it lurks and it scares me. So when I looked at her, so obviously stressed, I realised how fragile she is, how old she has become. One is used to ones mother always being there, a pillar of strength. When do the tables turn? When does the child become the adult? When did I become the one who reassures and nurtures? The change seems imperceptible, but all of a sudden it is there, fixed. I am the strong one now.

The performance finally finished, I ushered her out to the car. She was uncharacteristicly quiet. Had all been well she would have been revelling in the success of the performance. Instead she was locked up inside herself. I talked to her gently, like one would to a baby, soothing sounds, even and measured, I have soothed my own children in the same way to bring sleep and dispel illness.

We went home, searched the rooms she had spent time in, searched my car and her bag again, all in vain. Again her head was in her hands, 'it's OK' I said 'It's not the end of the world, no one is dying, no one is in danger. You may loose the cash but the cards will be OK, it will all be OK'

We drove back to the car park where I had picked her up. I parked next to her car so that we could look inside and see if it had fallen in there. Again we looked underneath, but it wasn't there. It wasn't there because it was somewhere else.

Yes, it was somewhere else, somewhere much more visible, if only we had known where to look. There it was, on the bonnet of the car, just neatly sitting between the bottom of the windscreen and the wiper blades, in full view of anyone passing. It was intact amazingly. Who'd have thought it? She was relieved of course, and cross with herself, but my main concern was that she was still in shock.

We went inside for sweet tea and chocolate. Once she seemed OK to drive, some hours later, we said goodbye. It had been a very eventful day and one, she told me, she would not be telling her husband about. It had brought home so much to me though too, like how little she has become, diminished somehow, and how fragile too. It made me realise how much I will always love her, and how time stops for no one.

The Wedding Anniversary

I was driving along in the car with Tall Girl last week, on the way to fetch Small Sprog, when she asked me what the date was. I thought for a minute. I mentally counted the days since my birthday.

'It's the 24th June' I concluded

'Thanks' she replied and then started to burble away. But I wasn't listening after that.

The 24th June. It was already past 4pm and I had not really noticed the date at all, and now I had been reminded. It came to me out of the blue. A date once fondly remembered.

I wondered when exactly it was that he started to forget. When did he forget to send a card for the first time? After the first baby, more likely the second. I can't remember when it was, but I do remember the hurt. And then again, when did I give up remembering? When did I stop marking the event? When did I make a conscious decision to forget?

For me the forgetting was self defence. Yet now I have truly forgotten with no effort at all. Not a second thought last week until the date was mentioned. All that time, all those years, once fondly remembered. How strange to forget.

When I left the family home, over 4 months ago now, I took some of the pot plants with me. They were ones I had bought from my own garden when I was single, all those years ago.

I bought the palm tree in Cornwall as a 'baby'! It grew quite well despite being in a pot, and when I went out in the freezing weather last February, to assess what I could take with me when I moved house, it was still alive. It looked a bit poorly but still alive it was.

On my moving day I directed the removal men into the garden, telling them there was a palm tree to go in the van from the back garden. They returned back into the house looking puzzled. 'Do you mean that stick in the corner?' they enquired. And sure enough, the thing had died overnight. All it's leaves were on the floor and it stood there looking pitifully naked. I sighed. I felt like it had betrayed me! 'Take it anyway' I said to them, 'I can always use the pot later'.

It's been in my new, pocket sized garden ever since. You can see above that it is just a stick (the rosette shapes belong to another plant). I have watered it in the vain hope that it might come back to me, but recently I commented to my mum that I might have to chop its top off, just to see what would happen, but I haven't had the heart to attack it yet.

Anyway, as I was leaving the house Friday night, I gave it a cursory glance and there, near the bottom of the trunk I could see this:

What do you think? I reckon it's still alive!

I shrieked with joy and gave it a little rub. I knew you could do it, I said out loud. It made me very happy. It may well grow up to look a very odd looking palm tree, but palm tree it still is!

Lots of things have made me happy recently. I have had a lovely weekend. And who couldn't fail to be happy in this lovely summer weather (unless you are an England Football Fan that is!)

Giant vegetables!

Small Sprog has had trouble sleeping of late, light nights, hot room, over excitement, over tiredness, all the words for his school play going round in his head, all of it rolled into one. It makes a hyper charged Small Sprog and it's not getting better.

This week he has had a couple of drops of lavender oil in his bath to see if that helps and at the beginning of the week it seemed to work. He may have smelt like an old ladies hanky but at least he slept well.

So tonight, after a trip to the park to run off his tea, and a good dig around in the sandpit, I ran him a bath and sat down with him in the bathroom to chat. He was still hyper charged until, all of a sudden he said 'Does Daddy know Significant Other?'

'No' I say, taken aback 'Have you mentioned him?'

'No'

'Well you know you can' I say 'I have never asked you to keep it a secret, it really doesn't matter if it slips out' I look at is big eyes. 'You don't have to keep it, really you don't'

He looks up at me and in a very grown up voice says 'Has to be done' then changes the subject. That was it. He made it clear. No more. It must have been puzzling him, or bothering him and now he had said it he didn't want to discuss it anymore...

'What sort of giant vegetable would be the scariest?' he asks me in the next second.

'A carrot' I say, not really concentrating

'A carrot?' he says disparagingly ' Not a carrot. Broccoli! Just think how big it's heads would be, and it would have big fists of green for hands, and it would do this' He gesticulates a big punch in the air 'and this' He grins 'It would be like having a giant tree chasing you!'

'Yes' I say absent mindedly 'I guess it would'

In retrospect

When I was 5 the wallpaper in my bedroom was vibrant. There were bright orange cats and lime green mice, clustered together all over it. I remember that my toy box, which my Mother had made for me, also had the cats and mice stuck to the sides, neatly and lovingly cut from the spare paper. On my bed was a candlewick bed spread.

During that time my Father was having an affair with his dance partner. One night he woke me from my sleep to show me glow worms in a jar that he had collected on the way home from a dance. They glowed so brightly, they were magical. I have not seen one since.

On Sundays we would have afternoon tea with Betty and Gramps, his relatives who lived in an old Victorian terraced house in the poorer part of town. Even then I lived in the suburbs; in a Cul-de-Sac, with herbaceous borders and neatly cut lawns.

The terraced houses seemed to me to be dull and cheep, even then. They had shiny painted anaglypta in the hall, slightly browned with tobacco and the stairs went mysteriously down to the kitchen. Sometimes we ate multicoloured tinned fruit salad from china bowls that were painted with horses and hounds. I used to save the cherries until last but they never really tasted like cherries at all.

The Victorian Terraced houses in that part of town are now well sort after. They have been 'done up', renovated and restored. They have become desirable homes harking back to an era which looks much better in retrospect.

Perhaps life is better that way, in retrospect. Only sometimes it is difficult to gather all the pieces together.

It's my Birthday!

I have had a lovely day, relaxing and being waited on.

I have had birthday wishes from friends and am always touched that anyone should think of me.

I am blessed with wonderful children; My daughter has pulled out all the stops, she has looked after me, bought me a thoughtful gift, protected me when Husband dropped off Small Sprog after camp. I couldn't ask for more.

A lovely Mum; who organised a surprise cake for the children to give me.

And friends, who have called both in person and by text and phone.

I am Blessed and grateful and smiling.

Go on, virtual cake, have some, you know you want to.....!

Travelling with my Small Sprog...

'Don't put your feet on my bag' I shout as he clambers into the back of the car.

'Why?'

'There's chocolate biscuits inside'

A squeal of delight emanates from his excited body. This is Small Sprog in overdrive.

He has had a fair day at school, from what I can gather...

'Good day?'

'Yep' That's about all I get. Then he has had his extra maths lesson, which recently always goes down like a lead balloon, and today was no different. But after maths, then, then he has had Granny to play with. Someone to be his audience, to sing his school play songs to, to eat his meal in the grossest way possible in front of, and to practice his guitar with. Oh yes, he has made the most of his Granny this evening in every single way. But bedtime draws near and she has to leave.

She's still not sure of how to find my new house yet so when she arrives I meet her just off the motorway and 'lead' her in. However this also means her following me back out of Bristol again at the end of the trip.

We are running late. It is Small Sprogs bedtime and she has not yet left. He is pixilated, over excited, and he has just discovered the chocolate biscuits. As it turns out, this is a blessing. Munching biscuits whilst taking Mum back to her car means a quite 10 minute outward journey for us all.

However, after dropping her off, back in my car he was refuelled and raring to go. He was full volume with the remote lost under the sofa, sort of loud. He was chocolate high and sugar infused and nothing was going to keep him down!

He started to recite TV adverts. This is one of his specialities, you have to hear it to believe it. And the advert of choice today was... The Meerkats. He can do a convincing Serge and Alexander, he knows the lines, could pass for a soviet spy with his accent and if he can't remember the content exactly, he makes it all up. Once done he can repeat 'Computermabob' over and over again without getting tired of hearing it. If only it was the same for me! If you have managed to avoid these ads and have no idea about 'The Battle of Fearlessness' then I am willing to rent him out for as long as necessary. If I hear him mention fur balls and 'simples' once more tonight I'll...

It was only a 10 minute journey back home, seemed longer, and he hardly stopped for breath.

Summer holiday in North Wales anyone? I mean, someone has to drive him there don't they?!

The interview

There were 11 of us today, drawn from 75 applicants. I arrived at 8.20 for 8.30. I was the 7th to arrive and all the seats in Reception were already taken, standing room only. There is a Large Silence in the room.

By 8.31 we were all crammed into a small interview room and given the agenda for the day. Someone arrived late, we all moved up a seat. Someone else arrived late, again we shuffled. The last latecomer arrived and a very nice man gave her his seat. Surely they won't get the job if they can't arrive on time? I think. Does everyone else think the same I wonder?

We have an introduction and a look around. We do a 'task' and spend an hour in the classroom. This is senior school. The behaviour is challenging. For some, I discover later, this is a shock.

We meet together again at 11.15. There are 11 of us now to interview. Time ticks on.

One by one we are called through. The ones that are left make small talk which gradually, I discover, becomes more specific. Life stories unfold. Life styles become uncovered. Personal values surface. We are united in our quest for work. We all agree jobs are few and far between. I discover that most of us are applying for anything that is out there. United in our quest for work yet with a need to out perform each other in the room beyond. Time ticks on.

We eye each other up. He won't get it, he looks far too miserable I think as I listen to another woman talking about the fact that she has other work on her plate. She doesn't 'need' the work, I think, why is she here?! Don't be greedy I want to shout!! Some of us actually need these hours! Time ticks on.

"I'm going to sound rude now" One candidate says to me after the 4th person is called in, "I mean" she says in a stage whisper "What criteria did they apply when they asked her for interview?"! The situation was bringing out the worst. The wait was making us edgy. It was a Dog Eat Dog situation! I had a fleeting thought for a second, that I had been transported to the Big Brother House!

I'm second last to be interviewed. I have waited in the same dull room for 2 and 1/2 hours. By the time they ask me the questions I had previously felt prepared for, my mind is blank. I forget that I have to sell myself, I can't seem to bring the right words to mind, I can't say what I want to say. Nerves take hold. It is like taking an exam, I feel like I'm trawling through deep mud for the words I need, the ones I know they want to hear. I try my best but I know I am not reaching anywhere near that point.

Before I arrived I wasn't that keen on the job. Once there I fell in love with the place.

Needless to say I didn't get it. I am still berating myself

Excuse me while I moan?

Small Sprog is due to go to 'Cub Camp' with his dad next weekend. He told me he doesn't want to go and could I relay that fact to Husband, which I duly did via email. Why didn't Small Sprog want to mention it? I guess because he knows he will be persuaded to go.

I have had no reply to my email. Camp falls on my birthday. I have a sneaky suspicion that is why Small Sprog doesn't want to go. I have told him that we can celebrate my birthday at another time but it hasn't changed his mind. By the way, it should be my 'turn' to have him next weekend.

This weekend the children have been with Husband. I won't see them until tomorrow.

'Do you know if Small Sprog is going to camp?' I texted Tall Girl this afternoon

'Think so' she replied.

Husband must have persuaded him. I hope Small Sprog hasn't agreed to go just to please. I wish Husband had let me know what was going on. I often send him emails keeping him up to date with events that the children are involved in. He never answers. I don't have any details about camp yet, what time he is picking Small Sprog up, what time he is bringing him home, what things he needs to pack. All done to annoy I guess.

It is my birthday on Sunday. I would like to make plans, but I can't until I know what's happening. I wish I had just put my foot down now. Old habits die hard I guess.

Monday Morning

'Have you got your bus ticket?' I ask Tall Girl as she left for school this morning.

'Yep' Monosyllabic, she doesn't 'do' mornings!

'Dinner money?'

'Yep'

'Homework?'

She nods, eyes rolling.

We head for the front door. I like to stand at the door for a while once she's left and watch her disappear around the bend in the road. If there is no one much about, I hazard a last 'goodbye', half stage whispered so as not to embarrass her. All is peaceful and right with the world...

Less than 10 minutes later I hear the phone ring downstairs. I have just turned on the shower for Small Sprog and so leave him there, with washing instructions, while I run down to answer it. It is Tall Girl, she is at the bus stop and can't find her ticket. Can I bring it to her before the school bus comes?

I panic! I have one lovely child in the shower who needs me to be here, and another equally lovely one who needs me a short car journey away."Quick" I half scream at Small Sprog "We need to get to the bus stop. Can I wrap you in a towel and take you like that?"

"No way" He retorts. Well, I guess he is 10 now, even if he still can't work the shower controls!

"OK, you get out and dry REALLY quickly then"

Meanwhile I am running about the house looking for the said ticket. It is not where she said she'd left it. Bum! I ring her back

"It's ok" She says non-plussed "I'll just pay him tomorrow, anyway I can see the bus coming now!"

I put the phone down and sigh. My 'everything is right with the world' feeling has totally disappeared.

"It's OK Small Sprog" I shout out "Panic over"

He appears, completely dressed and ready for the day. Perhaps I should try that trick more often? He can take ages sometimes.

Before I leave for work I tidy the bedrooms a little. I am fairly pleased that Tall Girl has made an effort to make her bed, though it still looks like someone is asleep in it. I pick up the corner of the duvet to straighten it. Her bus ticket is underneath, gently put to bed for the day with 'Larry' her bedtime lamb (I know she's 13 now!)

Bless her, I can here you mutter. Bless her? You just wait until she gets home!

Never a dull moment in suburbia

End of the holidays

Today will be a family day with visits to my Father and then, weather permitting, a BBQ with Mum. Going to work tomorrow is going to be so hard after such a lovely few days with children and friends...

I am grateful for all of it.

My Children

Every other Thursday evening, Husband comes round to pick up the children's stuff for the weekend. He usually comes around 6pm, takes the bag, chats to the children and then goes again. I dread it. The whole event hangs over me for the few hours between coming home with Small Sprog and when husband arrives. I find myself getting agitated and wondering why, then I remember again that his visit is imminent.

It is usually civilised, no worry there, though so much hangs between us unsaid, I guess it is best that way. Yet I still feel uneasy. Perhaps the Thursday visit just brings the inevitable Friday departure of the children a little nearer?

This weekend he has the children. We do a weekend on and weekend off rotation. By luck, for him, he has managed to get all the bank holiday weekends this year. As it's the school holidays he's taking some holiday to be with them after the weekend.

I feel really close to Small Sprog right now, more so than ever, and don't want to loose him for the weekend. Tall Girl spends more time with her Dad than Small Sprog. She protects her father, and me too, but sometimes I find it hard. I feel sometimes I loose her. She used to be all mine. Now she is not. She comes home different. She bosses her brother around, takes my place. It takes time for us all to adjust to each other when she returns.

I will say goodbye to them tomorrow morning and then not see them again until Wednesday evening. Then we will have to re adjust to being together again.

Yet all the time I know it is the same for husband. And although I resent him having them for so much of their precious week off, I know that I have them for more of the time.

Doesn't stop me not wanting to let them go though.

Looking back, Looking forwards

Gosh, seems ages since I wrote anything here, I miss it, and am not sure how I ever really got the time to write every day?

It is Wednesday already and I am simultaneously looking forward to this coming weekend and looking fondly back at the last.

Last weekend I went to a Charity Ball. We had a fab time, it was a 'Start of Summer' Ball and so aptly named. The evening was warm and sultry on arrival. We ate, drank and danced, and as I lay down outside in my posh frock at around midnight and looked up to the stars (I did not end up lying down by' accident'!) I realise how far I'd come in this last year or so. Goodness me how strange life an be.

Two years ago I was living my suburban life, expecting nothing more, trying to accept the way life had become. It felt like hard work, with little rewards. Yet how can I say that, as if the children are not a reward in themselves? However I am blessed and cursed at the same time with a mind that both looks forwards, and looks back, too much thinking...

And when I looked forwards, those two years ago, I saw the children growing, leaving, leaving and then nothing. Nothing left. Empty days spent doing things, little things that were solitary and still, that were too old for me, made me old. I saw my old age, brought on by being married to someone so much older than myself. I felt that I was missing my 'middle age', and had slipped into a perceived retirement, easy but bereft of love and closeness.

If someone had told me then, that two years hence I would be lying down in a ball gown, head in the lap of my lover on a warm and sultry May evening I would have looked in astonishment. 'That is not my life' I would have said, 'No, you are wrong, that is not how it will be for me'...

So today I am looking back to last weekend, still enjoying it's pleasure and also forward to the next which looks full of pleasantly happy and comfortable things.

I am lucky, blessed and thankful.

Perhaps

As I drove along the tree lined road to work this morning, I realised how green and lush everything is looking now. I love the lime green colours of the fresh new leaves in the spring time and I realised how, living further into the city now, it was all passing me by this year, the loveliness of it. I am missing the green, I am missing picking spring flowers from my garden to bring indoors and smell, I am missing the sound of bird song.

Constantly I contemplate when and where I might be able to at last buy a house of my own. All I really want to do is be in the countryside, somewhere small and comfortable, where I can see the setting sun on a summer evening across open fields.

A dream may be. Impractical at the moment, very much so. Ever to be realised, who knows?

Yet, as I'm driving and thinking things through, I remembered a comment made on an earlier post of mine. Someone pointed out how I had once craved love and passion and to actually feel something and I have that now. I am lucky.

So maybe, if you want things badly enough, set your heart on them, push towards a goal, maybe, just maybe you can get there in the end. Time will tell, yet this time, it seems even more impossible.

Out to lunch!

I arrived at Mums a little late today. She met me at the front door with her coat on "Come on" she said, "We're going out for lunch!"( Not even a 'Hello'!)

It was 2pm, I dutifully jumped into her car, she didn't want to miss last orders!

Now it was very sweet and kind of her to take me for lunch, and also very fortuitous that I had not already eaten, because I do so like my food! However, I had spent so much time sorting out my car on the phone before leaving, that I hadn't managed to fit in lunch, nor even a second breakfast!

Anyway, off she drove me, into the very beautiful Cotswold's.

We went VERY quickly, in fact, if I had mistakenly eaten before hand, I'm sure I would have had an empty stomach again by the time we had reached the top of Cleeve Hill. She drives like the wind, steers like she's reliving a very tricky stage on Marrio Kart and breaks at the last possible minute. We arrived at the desired destination almost before we'd left! Phew, I needed a drink, never mind lunch. She however emerged from the car as cool as a cucumber and proceeded to usher me in to the Corner Cupboard, which is not as it sounds, but a very small and typical country pub.

We had a lovely meal, velvety Steak and Ale Pie with chips and peas, lots of French mustard and a good swig of vinegar on my chips, mmmm! However my enjoyment of the meal was slightly marred by the thought of whether I would manage to keep it in my stomach for the whole of the return journey back down the hill, but then she mentioned pud...

"You have to have a pud" She insisted "and they all come with ice cream, you have to try it"

"I'm not really bothered about the ice cream, and I'm very full" I replied, hoping not to sound ungrateful. "If I ask for the ice cream, do you want mine?"

She nodded in approval. Goodness, I thought!

While waiting for puds we started to chat about my stepfather;

"It's a shame he couldn't come" I say

"Oh, he could have" She replied

"Well, why didn't he?" I ask puzzled

"I told him you might want to talk" She hissed, as if someone would hear.

"Oh" I said, hoping I hadn't disappointed by not divulging any more woes to her, I had told her about the car accident on the phone, I mean as if that wasn't enough after everything else?!

"So will you have to cook for him later?"

"No, he's eaten"

"You've left him a sandwich?"

"No he ate out"

"Oh, that's nice, where did he go?"

"The Kings Arms"

"Lovely, who with?"

"Oh no, he was by himself"

"You made him go by himself?!"

"But I thought you might want to talk"

How could she?!

Anyway, the puds came and we waded through the gateaux. Both of us were rather full and wondered if we may just not quite manage it all. I looked at Mums plate. "I don't think I can manage the rest" She says defeated by the huge portion of White Chocolate and Blueberry Gateaux.

"You don't want my ice cream then?"

"Oh yes, I can manage that" She said delighted "It won't take up any room at all!"

You've got to love her!

Here but not, if you know what I mean?

I've not been about much recently, not read any blogs or written much myself. I have missed both. Partly I have not written because some of the stuff I would normally write about I'm just fed up with thinking about. Most of that is finance related.

Last week though, I found out that I am to loose hours at work. Only 3, but when you work part-time, that's a fair bit. So, forgive me for not writing much, or visiting much. Most of my spare time spent on the computer is used either looking for jobs or filling in applications.

I am not feeling positive, as you might have gathered. I am not doing the job I'd love, but then who is? I don't know how to go about changing things, though I have managed so much change over the last year or so, yet I don't seem to have the same clarity of thought to help change my working position.

Feeling a bit sorry for myself really! Indulge me for a while?

On top of all this, I received a letter in the post from the mediator suggesting that we wait 2 more years before a financial settlement take place to allow husband to keep the house and me to get a better paid job! I am tired of it all. I can't wait another 2 years. I will have to settle for less than the children and I are entitled to or wait and wait and then what? Why does he get the best deal? Even more fed up now! Sorry.

Sundays

Will I ever get used to the loneliness of Sundays? I am not adjusting well. It looms before me, I meet it with dread.

Sunday is a family day. Most of my friends have families, a 'proper' family. They do 'stuff' on weekends.

It's not weekends in their entirety that I dread, Saturdays are not a problem, children come to play on Saturdays, friends call round, the shops are open, there are jobs to do. But then Sunday happens...

Even the children feel it. Friends are busy doing family stuff. I know we are a family, but the rest of my family are not close by, I feel isolated and a little lost.

My first instinct is to run away, make arrangements, go to visit. But most people are busy. Then I persuade myself to sit it out. I can't run every time, we are three and we can have good times. We can, I know, we have today, but it took a long time to let go of the feeling of being alone, of being different, of trying too hard. It's over now, for a while. The week is full of work and school and children's clubs and classes. We come together at the end and we are happy, we are a family, it feels 'normal'. Why can't I do that on a Sunday?

So today I wandered, indecisively thinking of several things to do at once. Tall Girl wanted to go to Grannies, but I was determined not to run, not this time. We got it together in the end. You can see the fruits of our day in the photo(ignore the date on it, don't know how to change it!). We cooked and iced and got sticky and messy and felt a bit sick! We had fun. We were a family, just us three. I can do it, we can do it. I just need some more practice. I guess there will be plenty of that.

This was Small Sprogs cake. He was proud of his icing skills.

The picture on the cake is of our house, with my car outside.

He says he chose to ice this because it is a 'happy house'.

I cherished the words.

The futures bright, dinner is orange!

Tall Girl has been having cookery lessons at school this last term. She enjoys cooking and is quite good at it. Cookery lessons are on a Wednesday or a Friday, so sometimes I don't get to eat the fruits of her labours, because she stays with her Dad every other Wednesday or Friday night. However I am always interested in how well she's done, so when I know she's not coming home I text her and ask how it went...

A few weeks ago she was making curry. I texted her on the bus home; it was a very well travelled curry!

'How does it look?' I wrote

'Orange!' She replied

The following week she made sweet and sour chicken. We were going to eat it for our evening meal and we had a guest to dinner, so I texted her on the bus, just to see if I needed a hasty trip to the supermarket.

'How does it look?' I wrote

'Orange!' She replied.

It was!

Today she made pizza. I saw her get off the bus as I waited in the car at the traffic lights. She didn't see us. Once the lights were green we turned down the road she had disappeared down minutes before. We could see her in the distance...we wound down the windows of the car, slowed to a curb crawling speed and before she could turn around we shouted and sang her name out of the window whilst beeping the horn! She is 13. Anything I do embarrasses her, even breathing! Her face was a picture, her friend laughing.

When I arrived home, leaving her to walk with her friend, my phone chirruped. She'd texted me to say she was going to her friends house. Oh no! Maybe I had gone a step too far? I enquired via the normal method but she was fine.

'Don't forget you have dinner with you' I texted

She sent back a 'wink'

'By the way' I type 'What colour is it?'

'Orange, hee hee' came back the reply.

I love my Tall Girl

Playing the game...

We went to mediation this week. I have been dreading it, the final one and so much at stake. This was our last chance to agree on a settlement without going to court. We reached an impasse. Husband says he might as well go to court and I think he would rather pay the solicitors than me. He is insisting he can't afford to buy me out, he is still offering me less than half. That offer was on the table well over six months ago, nothing has changed. I don't know what to do

There is a chance he is bluffing. I need to wait, play the game...

Yet I had hoped that today would be the end of it. That today I could walk away and know where I was financially, plan my future, our future and finally, finally, be divorced. Because not until after the finances are settled, can I get that little bit of paper that says I'm free. It wasn't until I realised today that we are still so far from that moment, that I really realised how important it is for me to have that closure.

He will always be in my life, because we have two lovely children and we need to be civil and see each other for their sakes, but to be free and independent, even though I will be totally broke, that is something I really want badly. If we go to court it could be another year coming. Can I really let that happen?

A big sigh

"Where is Tall Girl?" asks Small Sprog for about the fifth time this evening, "When is she coming home?"

"Not until tomorrow" I sigh "She's at Daddy's tonight"

He puts out his bottom lip. No matter how the much they argue and bicker, they do love each other very much. No matter how many times I hear one or other of them screaming at the top of their voice "I hate you!" I know that deep down the love is so much greater.

Poor Small Sprog. It hasn't really dawned on him yet that Tall Girl gets to visit Daddy's house every other Wednesday night, but that he is not included. I don't like it. In a way I would rather that they both went, even though I do not want to be without them, so that they would be together and not feel that one was having something the other was not. It hasn't dawned upon Small Sprog that that is the routine yet because the last month or so has had 2 weeks school holidays in it and we have not really got into a proper routine of every other Wednesday, until now.

In bed tonight, when he asked for her again, I stole myself and asked "Would you like to go to daddy's every other Wednesday too, with your sister?"

"No" was the instant reply "I want to be with you"

I am flattered and glad and pleased, yet it is sad. And if he had said yes, Husband would have taken a lot of persuading. I have already tried to arrange it for Small Sprog, thinking he would want to, it fell on deaf ears. It all just makes me want to do a big sigh.

And as I sit here writing into the night, I can hear Small Sprog gently snoring and I know how much I love him and that he is here and that he is mine...

The message

The sweet pleasure

That moment when you read the words

The little flutter in your chest

The intake of breath

Heart stopping

"I love you"

It works every time.

My Guitar Hero!

This morning Small Sprog has his first ever gig! He, in his guitar group, are giving a small concert to parents at school. He is excited and nervous.

My Guitar Hero!

Go Small Sprog!

PS As he ate his breakfast earlier he said "This is going to be the biggest moment of my life!"

I guess all Guitar Heroes start somewhere

In the shower

As I put Small Sprog in the shower this morning I noticed a large scratch on his side. "Oh look" I said "what have you been up to?" He hadn't noticed his scratch and was very interested in it!

I left the bathroom, giving instructions to use soap and went to tidy his sisters room.

Not long after, there was a shout from the bathroom. He hasn't mastered turning the shower on and off, so I dashed in to assist. As I wrapped him in his new blue towel he said "My hair is very soft at the moment"

"Is it?" I replied

"Yes" he said "It must be something to do with the scratch on my side"

"How can it have something to do with the scratch on your side?" I laughed

"I think I'm turning into a weir wolf at night!" He said seriously

A Weir Wolf? Sometimes I think he lives in a totally different universe to mine!

A good weekend

I have just had a fantastic weekend, spent with a friend who I have known for a very long time. We used to spend time together years ago, but while I was married it was hard to get to see her. So this weekend we met up, shopped, ate and drank and were merry, it was such a tonic. I know she will never judge me, we have known each other too long and been through too much, for all that sort of thing. I don't think there is anything I couldn't say to her. A true friend indeed.

Anyway, I was itching to tell Mum all about it, so after she texted me this evening I said I'd give her a ring back. The call went something like this:

Me: Hello

Mum: Did you get my text?

Me: Yes, texted you back saying I'd ring you

Mum: I only just texted you

Me: Yes, I know. Did you have a good weekend?

At this point she told me about the concert she'd been to and then tried to bring the conversation to a close.

Me: I had a good weekend...

I was ready to launch into the details, when she said 'Yes thank you' and rang off!

I think it must have been time for Eastenders.

Sometimes I don't know why I bother, really I don't!

Social Pariah

Am I feeling over sensitive or am I becoming ostracised from my 2.4 children friends? Perhaps ostracised is too strong a word?

I have several groups of friends, and one group in particular has always been very close. We met when pregnant with our first babies and have met regularly and kept in touch ever since. However, things seem to have changed, the atmosphere is different, the talk is different, there is an elephant in the room.

We all still chat about the same things, children, school, too much to do and not enough time, ageing parents, blah de blah, all the personal stuff except, except, no one asks me about my relationship. I regard two of these people as close friends, and spent a lot of time with one today. We went through all the usual chat, and unusually she did the lions share of it, not once asking me about my life. I have a good friend calling in tomorrow too, it has been the same with her.

So am I being over sensitive? Are they worried about asking? Or am I just not on their radar now that I am a single mother with a lover. Does my life seem so far removed from theirs that they don't know what to say, are not interested, feel threatened? I know we all lose friends during such times but I really don't want to lose these. I am still me, the same me I always was; though perhaps not the one they used to see, the' settled in a safe relationship with two lovely children' one, the one living a dull life in leafy suburbia?

I listened today to my friend talking about her comfortable life, two children doing well, financially very secure, two holidays booked already for 2010, and thought, yes, maybe I am off their radar now? I thought about mounting bills and making ends meet. Perhaps it is them that are dipping off mine?

Because I am bored!

Now I know that sounds ungrateful but I am really BORED! Perhaps it is because I have been having a ball of late, or perhaps I am not taking my own advice and living for the moment, but right now I'm not in much of a moment!

Tall Girl is bored too, so is Small Sprog, but he is watching TV so that has ameliorated his boredom for now. We have been out today, briefly and we have had fun, but now it just feels really boring! This evening I have suggested a walk, cooking, making things, but all to no avail. What we all crave is company and that is the problem. Everyone else is out having a good time! Yep, absolutely everyone in the whole world! You must know that feeling? You ring your friends and they're out, you text and no one answers, you read peoples blogs and they're off to somewhere warm and sunny, I've even been on my Facebook page, and I have to be pretty bored to entertain that! No one is on Google chat, not even my Mum, even she's having fun somewhere!

Sometimes it does you good to have a good moan!

(Do you know, I really am looking forward to going to sleep tonight!)

What did you do today?

In the park

It is late. Small Sprog has been chastised for whinging on about opening the present he knows is waiting for him at home. He has spent the whole day at his grannys whinging about going home to open it. Even when we sit in the park; in the beautiful warm sunshine, which has been much too long coming this spring, and eat his favourite ice lolly, he is whinging.

"Remember the words of the song" I say to him "About living for today because you never know what's going to happen tomorrow?" We have had this talk before, I want them to learn what it has taken me so long to realise. Living for the moment, enjoying each minute. Although, now I come to think of it, I have not been that good at it over this last week myself. He nods soberly and licks his multicoloured lolly.

As I am saying the words I realise myself how precious that moment is. Both my children with me happily eating ice cream, Mum at my side doing the same. A sunny day, no work, no school, health and happiness. I look at Mum. She has slowed recently, she does too much some days, it takes it out of her, and she worries for me too, I know that doesn't help. She is a precious constant in my life, though we grumble about each other on occasions. One day we will not be us 4, but I can't say that to Small Sprog now as he jolts me out of my melancholy with "Can we go home now!"

Sleepily, in the back of the car, Small Sprog mutters one more thing about his waiting gift before we arrive home. "Do you know what my best present would be?"

"No" I reply, equally weary.

"A happy family"

"Mummy and Daddy together you mean?"

"Yes" says Small Sprog

He will never get that present now. Hoping is a very sad thing on occasions.

Mum has a new phone...

Mum has a new phone. Oh joy. I have been on stand by over the last week or so to sort out the various 'glitches' in usage. No she doesn't have an iPhone, nope, it's just a bog standard £10 phone, but to her, it's a whole new ball game.

To be fair it has been mostly Tall Girl who has been her technical support through most of the journey, but today it was my turn "When I put in 'mum' "she says puzzled, "it reads nun."

"Yes" I reply "That's the predictive text. You know? You just have to scroll down to the other options and you'll find the word you want"

"Oh"

"You know, just like your other phone?"

She looks a bit blank.

"There's 3 letters isn't there, for each number? You can make lots of words from the same keys, like 'home', 'good' and 'gone'."

There was a spark of recognition. Fab I thought, we're getting somewhere. Then she said "Oh yes, I had those words on my old phone too..."

Sometimes she's so cute!

Who knows?

Is there anyone who knows, early in their lives, just how things are going to turn out? Is there anyone who knows what they want to be, where they will go, what they will become? I guess there are some? The Driven, those who force their way through life, or are so gifted that they hardly need to try at all. Yet is it still chance that they make it? Is not every twist and turn of our own lives, not to mention anyone elses whom we come across, a happy accident, a twist of fate, a cruel joke, a miracle? How do we know which way to turn, which path to choose when it really matters? We make choices, rash decisions, go with the flow...

When I was 13 I thought I would be famous! Who doesn't at 13? I thought that when I got to 40 my life would be over. Give me a pill, I thought, what could be worse than getting old, grey, loosing your looks, loosing your marbles? It never really occurred to me to have a plan, well, not for longer than the normal teenage attention span anyway.

So as I find myself at the age when my former self would have had me euthanaised, things are looking a little different. And yet I still make the same mistakes, and am still uncertain...

I'm still here!

We had to dress up at work today. I'm not keen on dressinng up, especially for work. It just seems to be another task to do in what seem to be enlessly busy weeks. Goodness me I sound a bit of a Scrooge, bah humbug, but I guess you will know what I mean? Busy term, loads of changes, hanging on in there through various domestic traumas and then having to think of a costume, assemble it and, wear it to work. Along with Small Sprog too obviously, who also needed a costume, as I work at his school.

So when I finished work today at lunchtime, I held my breath all the way home because the car was running on empty, and I had no wish to stop at the petrol station as a witch, crimped hair and all.

I pulled up outside my lovely new house, which is in a relatively quiet side road, and sat in the car for a while as I texted from my phone. I was so engrossed, that I didn't notice anyone approach until there was a knock on the car window. A very suspicious looking character was speaking to me through the glass, he looked a little disheveled and not all his features seemed in the right place. I felt a little nervous. I realised that I couldn't hear him properly through the closed window and was about to open the car door to talk to him when I thought better of it and opened the window slightly instead whilst pressing the button to automatically lock all the car doors at the same time.

"Can you tell me where Churchill Road is?" He asked pleasantly enough. I thought about it, I am new to this area and wasn't entirely sure but I think I sent him in the right direction.

As I watched him walk off down the street, I silently chastised myself for judging him by his appearance. He was harmless and had been very polite.

It wasn't until I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror that I realised it ought to have been him who was a little scared. I bet he didn't expect to ask a witch for directions when he got out of bed this morning!

Friday night is disco night!

It was Small Sprogs school disco this evening. He loves the school disco. At school though, in his class, he doesn't have many friends. Most of the boys are very much 'Alpha Males', children with older brothers, from male orientated families. Small Sprog has a big sister, enjoys girls company and hates football. Sometimes I feel sorry for him, I wish he had a good friend, but then I am a girl, looking at the whole thing in a girly sort of way!

So on the way to school this morning I asked him if he was looking forward to going.

'Yes' he smiled

'Are any of your friends going?' I asked

'Think so' he replied

Now, as a girl, I would have already spoken to all my friends about what we were all wearing and where we were going to meet up. He had obviously not had any of those conversations, I worried about him being there without a friend.

'What are you going to do there?' I asked, wanting reassurance from him in a way, that he was going to be alright.

'Gonna have a larf' he replied nonchalantly!

Of course he was! What on earth was I thinking?!

This way up

I have landed on my feet. I am very, very lucky. What an amazing week I have had here in my new home and new life? Having moved last Friday, a very smooth move, by Saturday the place looked fairly straight and I felt very 'at home'. The children seem settled and Small Sprog is sleeping better (touch wood) I couldn't be more pleased.

Last weekend was full of visitors, lots of happy people bearing flowers, gifts and cards, I couldn't believe how lovely it all was, my friends, in my home. Almost too many blessings to count. Though I did count them, am still counting. . .

It didn't stop there either. On Monday my Lovely Mans parents came down and bought us a delicious lunch. Then today I met fellow blogger Bobo, who also bought me lunch! (Lunch is such a lovely word, don't you think? It sort of sounds yummy, or perhaps I just love eating?!) It was fab to meet him, isn't it brilliant the way we can mix our virtual and non virtual worlds sometimes? (Thanks Bobo and thanks to Hulla too for my amazing gift. Hope to see you one day too)

Even more fabulous things are planned for the weekend. My Man and I are away for two nights, somewhere special and then dropping into see his lovely family on the way home, staying overnight there too to make a really long weekend. How amazing is that?

Sometimes life can be a huge pain in the bum, and yet at other times, well it just keeps getting better. My mantra, the thing I have learnt over the last two years, is to live for the moment and make the most of every day. I remind myself of this often, for I have spent a long time living in the past and the here and now were never a thing I considered often. So if you are reading this and having a 'pain in the bum' sort of a time, take heart for nothing lasts forever. Soon good times will come again, but they won't last forever either, so make each minute count. It's a great life and right now, I intend to live it.

In love with my Kitchen

'I love meatballs Mummy' says Tall Girl, shovelling down her supper last night. 'I think we should have them on the menu every week'

'Me too' splutters Small Sprog, through another mouthful.

I smile to myself. At last, a meal they agree on, something they both like, no 'Jack Sprat', for they never agree on a meal, satisfying one often leads to howls of revulsion from the other!

I enjoyed making the meal too, perhaps it showed in the eating. Stirring the rich tomatoey sauce slowly on the stove, chopping onions, crushing juicy garlic, watching it bubble in the pan. I can't remember enjoying cooking a meal that much for a long time, in my kitchen, my own space.

We all eat with glee, candles lit, music playing. The new kitchen table, a John Lewis indulgence, laid with my favourite bright mats. A pot of bright 'tet-a-tet' daffodils in the centre.

After the children have gone upstairs, after clearing up, I replace the lit candle with my favourite glass fruit bowl, fold the napkins, take stock. I flick the light switch, smile at the effect of the homely glow, the arrangement, my things, the way I like them, the atmosphere, the calm.

I take a deep breath, count my considerable blessings, turn out the light once more and head to bed. How strange it is to be here, after so long, strange but very, very good indeed.

2 Years old!

I have missed my birthday! 2 years of blogging on 3rd March. I can't believe it's been that long and, I know it sounds strange, those two years have changed my world.

I love that so many of my bloggy friends that I made during that first few months are still blogging too. I love being part of this community. Only you lot will understand that!

See you all when I am either 'borrowing' an Internet connection, or have my own again.

Meanwhile have a virtual glass of bubbly. I have 2 things to celebrate, 2 years here, and a new home with a whole new future ahead. You have to help me drink to that surely?!

Cheers!

Finally

Tonight is the last night I will spend in this house. After all the waiting it seems very strange, almost unreal. I have been here 9 years, Small Sprog was less than 18 months old when we moved in. He learnt to walk in the back garden, both children learnt to ride their bikes here, they have both started school from here, they have celebrated many birthdays and Christmases here too, they have grown. So many milestones, So many memories. Yet for the children, to move house will be even more strange. Tomorrow I leave for good, but they will continue to come back here to their 'home', every time they see their Dad. I hope they can deal with that. I am glad that I don't have too.

I would never have guessed, when I moved in, that I would move out under these circumstances, alone with my children. It is a strange life. Sometimes, I think, it is better not to know what the future holds.

This might be the last time....

All packed now and waiting to move on, apart from last minute things; favourite bedtime toys, hair straighteners (TG's) and the Wii! It is over 15 years since I lived alone and then I was childless.The responsibility of being a single parent feels very daunting. Gosh, I never thought I'd be one.

This morning, when I went into Tall Girls room, she suddenly said 'Mummy, I think we should all have baths on our first night in our new house (this is the girl that never used to like washing!), then we can put on or PJ's, and snuggle under a blanket to watch TV and eat pizza'

'What a fab idea' I replied and smiled to myself, this was how she wanted to celebrate, she is very happy to be moving, I hope it lives up to her expectations. It did indeed sound a lovely way to spend our first evening there together, if I can just tear myself away from the gentle murmuring of the boxes... 'Unpack me' they will call. I just hope I can resist the temptation to get straight as soon as possible.

PS.The good news is I may have an internet connection by middle of next week. Yay!

Not there quite yet but soon.

Sorry I'm not visiting much at the moment. It has been a manic few days. I have spent the weekend moving furniture from various places, Mums mostly, and then beds from 2 different friends who have kindly donated to my cause, loads of stashed goodies from BS5 and elsewhere, finishing off with picking up 2 new mattresses. This coming Friday I have a removal company booked to move me out of suburbia. Only 3 more days to spend here, after nearly 9 years of being in this house. I never really liked it when we moved in, I will not mind shutting the door for the last time.

I have spent all day here alone boxing things up. I forgot how much you can collect over the years. It should be mandatory to move every year or so, just so you have a good clear out! It has been a happy but exhausting day, and I have worked flat out. It feels so good to pack up my favourite things and imagine them in a new home. I feel as though I should be sad, but I can't muster any other emotion but gladness.

Oh, apart from annoyance that I can't get an Internet connection to my new home for 3 or 4 weeks. I'll miss you!

Got my keys. OMG. I'm scared.

Preparations

It has been a busy week, with lots to sort out, boxes to pack and vans to book. There are hiccups, isn't moving one of the top ten stressful things to do, along with divorce I believe? I hope to get my keys on Friday, but as yet, my employer has not sent back the reference for me, another 2 days before they can tick a couple of boxes and fax it back can you believe? Perhaps I should go to work today and twiddle my thumbs for a while!!

Anyway, Small Sprog is excited about having a larger bedroom when we move. He has a dream of setting up his Scalextrics his new room, so that the track runs under his bed. He has talked about this a lot, he has 'boy genes' for moving house, Tall Girl is more interested in matching bedding and sparkly cushions!

Husband has other thoughts about the racetrack. He wants to keep it here for Small Sprog, to set up in the attic room when I have gone. I mentioned the issue to Small Sprog this morning.

'I want to have it in both houses' he said.

Husband had obviously chatted to Small Sprog about it too.

'You can move it between both houses if you like' I replied .'Seeing as we have a van though, where do you want to have it first?'

He thought long and hard. I know he wants it in his new home, he has talked about it a lot. I could see a 'thinking frown' on his face.

'I'll leave it here for a while' he said after careful consideration 'So then Daddy will have something to look forward to'

I could have cried. He is 10, born thoughtful and kind. In all of this upheaval, he is thinking about other peoples feelings. What more could I ask for?

(Mind you, these thoughts do not count when doing battle with ones sister!!)

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'.....