Influences (or Effects) part 2

After writing the first part of this meme, I realised that actually these people which I am writing about have, perhaps, not really influenced my life so much as as effected it. Influenced is so much more often used and associated with a good thing, but some people just effect, whether you want them to or not...

When he called me into the bedroom I knew what he wanted, I had felt this moment coming for a long time. I was 14, the age my own daughter is soon to be. The memory is hazy, I think he called my name and I walked into the room obediently, like the child that I still was. I can't remember what I was wearing, a nightdress I think, I don't think girls wore pyjamas back then.

I remember standing by the side of his bed, the bed they shared when my mother was there, a big bed in a big room adorned with frills and lace, yellow and peach in the daytime, very grey during the dark hours. I remember him asking me to get onto the bed, I don't know how long it took me to do so or how many times he asked. In my mind I think it took a long time. In my memory I was not scared, not in a scary sort of way, I was just unsure, I knew it was wrong of him to ask me. He was the adult, the 'responsible adult' with whom I'd been left; in his care. I knew that this wasn't what children would normally be asked to do.

In my memory I sat astride him, as he had asked. In reality I hope I did not, I really hope I did not. He asked me to get into the bed with him. Into it. With him. He was lonely, he said and he wanted a cuddle.

I don't know how I managed to return back to my own bed. I can't remember if I cried, if I ran back, or walked. I do know I said NO though. That I do remember; no, I can't do that, it's not right.

Later, in my own bedroom, in my own bed, I remember him standing beside me, over me. Maybe he was weeping or maybe he was not and at some point he uttered the sentence they all use; 'Don't tell your mother, she'll make me go away and that will make her sad' Like other children before me, I agreed, tears streaming down my cheeks by now. Sometime later during that night eventually I slept, in the same house with him, alone in my room.

I agreed to say nothing because he was right, she would be sad and I loved my mother very much.

Eventually I spoke out, during a row about something quite different. I don't know to this day whether she believed me, she never did anything about it though, it was far too late for that by then anyway.

Influence or effect? It still effects my relationship with my mother, the relationship she has with my children, she has suffered, whether she knows it or not; things could have been so different.

What a week!

A long time ago, it seems like a lifetime, my solicitor told me I would be eligible for Legal Aid, she was in possession of all the financial information at the time and I trusted her. She also told me that if I went to court, she would be able to get me a better financial settlement than husband had offered me. You are entitled to more, she told me. I trusted her.

This week, after many months of form filling and jumping through hoops, I received a letter from the Legal Commission. I read it several times before the words made any sense. I am not entitled to financial help. I can't afford to go to court without it. 


So much time has been wasted just waiting for the cogs and wheels to turn and now, after all that, it seems I will have to settle for his offer, the one he made last year, the one which is worth less than half our joint assets, the one that means I will never manage to be able to house the children and myself in our own home. It has been a massive blow and a wake up call to reality, I tried not to cry. 

And it still seems so unfair that he should be living in a pleasantly tree lined road, in a 4 bedroomed house that he owns, with a large garden. A house that will grow in value over time, has grown in value in fact and which he can sell as soon as he is divorced, yet we are and will continue to pay rent and live somewhere much less leafy. I am trying very hard not to dwell on this, it is better ignored or forgotten. Yet at the same time I am so very glad I no longer live on that leaf lined street, that I no longer walk the paths or drive the roads of that particular suburbia. My life is good and I have much to be grateful for, I am counting my blessings instead, there are no regrets.

When I rang the solicitor to tell her the financial news she sounded surprised and immediately asked for £500!  Can you believe it?! I have asked her to settle out of court for me as quickly as possible, and I hope it is possible; a request that, as yet I have had no response to. My worry is that I am in a much weaker position now if he finds out I cant afford to go to court and who knows what his offer will be? 

However the divorce papers are ready to roll as soon as the finances are cleared. At least it will all be over, the silver lining in the cloud, that is what I am hanging on to - an End at last..

Also on a more positive note; the job I declined in the summer, after much deliberation and worry, has just been offered to me as a temporary contract with reduced hours that I can do. The hours fit in with my permanent job, so I consider myself extremely lucky. Funny how things turn out

Influences

Recently another blogger, The Eternal Worrier, wrote a series of 7 posts about people who have influenced him. I am going to take up his challenge and do the same. I'm not sure how it will go, it's just going to have to come together as I write, bare with me?

When I was 12 I had a friend who had a school girl crush on David Soul, alias Starskey, or was it Hutch? You see it never meant anything to me, all this hero worship and swooning over characters with whom I would never meet. I was more realistic in my expectations in life, I mean, how on earth would I ever get to meet a Pop Idol or a TV Star, let alone snog him; because lets face it, that was what we were all thinking about back then? But Helen was not daunted, every wall was covered with centre folds of her current muse. And she was fickle! I couldn't believe the rapidity of the turnover of posters and photographs, no sooner were they blue-tacked up on the wall, then they were ripped from their shrines and frames and replaced with a better and more appealing 'sex god'...

So, you see, my list of 7 people who have influenced me will not be about anyone you know. I have never brushed with the rich and famous (though I did catch a glimpse of Jonny Kingdom the other week if that counts?) and have never really longed to meet any stars or superstars. They may have influenced me, through popular culture as a whole, but it is my everyday influences that have made me who I am. And every time I meet someone else, the possibilities grow.

...A couple of years on and I found myself in the local park at lunchtime with Paul. I don't remember much about him as a person, I don't think it occurred to me to ask, all I knew was that he made my knees go all wobbly and his dad drove a blue Porche. I remember lying with him on the grass, ridged with anticipation of a first kiss, when he leant over and slipped his hand inside my school shirt. I could have died with embarrassed. Not because of what he was doing, but because I knew, as with all women and girls, that unless you have implants, that the flesh beneath slips sideways and diminishes! Now, I'm not sure anyone had thought of implants back then, but if they had I'm sure I'd have craved some, just to stop the awfulness of the situation happening again. I mean, where had my chest disappeared to right when I needed it?

Anyway, I'm not sure we ever kissed. I think he asked me to the cinema just to be polite, and because he was late we missed the beginning of The Deer Hunter, a film which gave me nightmares and disturbed me for years afterwards.

I have included him here, for two reasons. His best friend became a good friend of mine instead, no kissing was ever involved, just friends. I often walked home with him. I remember his mum showing me her newly decorated dining room one day in 1979. I was stunned, the walls were hung with luxurious wallpaper; navy blue with gold stars, I'd never seen anything like it before. And later, much later in my life I became an interior designer and recreated her dining room for myself in a large executive house. This was the late 80's, all was opulent and extreme, the 16 year old long gone.

Yet the real influence was how he looked. After we both left school I only spotted him once, walking through my home town, alone and aloof. I can remember now how my heart missed a beat, such a wonderful feeling when that happens, so much more powerful when you are just 16. Yet we never spoke again. Then one day I saw someone who looked just like him. I was sitting in the local Wine Bar with my best friend. If I'd not known Paul would I ever have noticed this new man? I don't think so, but because I did notice him it changed my life's path, things were never quite the same again...

A moment

Visiting my mother in the summer holidays, without the children, was sublime. The sun shone, the flowers were bright and profuse in pots and borders. We had a precious commodity and lots of it, stretching endlessly into the hot afternoon; time on our hands, to talk and share, without interruption, almost.

We sat in the sun with cups of tea to exchange news.They had had visitors through the summer, a friend and her new partner and they were eager to tell me all about it. 

'He was German, you know' said my Step Father who had taken an obvious dislike to the poor man. 'It's a shame The War's over' he pronounced. 

I looked at him slightly puzzled

'Else I could have shot him!'  he finished with a flourish, satisfied at just the thought...

At Mums

The dog is getting old, we are all getting old. Walking The Dog is a very very slow business.

But it is a beautiful sunny day and we are in tremendously good spirits Mum and I. It is a happy day and I am pleased to be in her company.

We have walked about 500 yards to the nearest grass verge when the dog stops to 'do her business 'as my Granny would have said. It does a massive pile. Mum brings out the inevitable 'poo bag' to scoop it up. She ties the top with a flourish and, holding tight to the looped handle, off we go again.
'How far is the bin?' I ask her, thinking that it would be nice to have a dog but that the 'pooper scooper' bit might be a bit much, especially as the children have been out of nappies for so long!
'Just around the corner' she says with a jolly smile, as the dog plonks itself down for another go.
'More?' I say in astonishment
'Oh yes' says Mum, almost proud, 'Sometimes I get through 3 of these!' She brandishes another bag and swoops upon the steaming pile.

She has the whole thing off to a fine art, and before we know it we are off again down the road.
'Sometimes' she says ' I think more comes out than goes in!'
'Really?' Ewww
'Yes' she says 'Feel the weight of that' and she hands me the two warm bags!
'I think I can live without that experience Mum' I decline

She really is something else sometimes, but you've got to love her!

The call

Maggie May was right, I did know the answer to my dilemma. The reason I'd been so worried about ringing my prospective employer, was because they may have negotiated on finishing times and if they had, then I would have had to have taken the job. In my heart of hearts I did not want it. I wanted to be sure of keeping my children. I wanted to savour the last year of Small Sprog; taking him to school in the morning, being there in the afternoon to hear his chatter, buy him an ice cream or cajole him to his extra maths lesson, depending on the day of the week.

I put off the call until Monday morning and was told that they would not negotiate. Was I still interested? No, I knew the answer straight away, I was not.

Back to the drawing board then. Time or money, which is more important to you?

Back to reality

As my much-looked-forward-to holiday period comes to an end, my sleep becomes disturbed once more and thoughts of work, childcare, finance and divorce flood my mind in the small hours. I try not to look at the clock when I am restless, otherwise I count the hours that I have missed and add them mentally on to my deficit! Lying there in the early morning greyness I can hear the rain steadily falling. What I really need, I think, is a nice warm lie in the sun, I want to hear the crash of the sea and dig for shells on the shoreline. All this is brought on by knowing that my children are in Cornwall. I have checked the weather continuously this last week to see if it is dry where they are. I worry about Small Sprog on his body board and hope that he is supervised enough and warm...

Just as I departed for York I received an email from my prospective employer; I have tried to contact you at home, it says, please call me when you receive this message. I quickly email back to say I am about to drive to York and I will be back at the end of the week. Yet I could have called her then. I am putting it off. I want the job but not the hours, I want to see my children, I want it all.

On the other hand, Husband, despite threats, has not cut us off financially and has paid money into the bank. This month then, I am solvent at least. Yet the threat was very real and who knows what will be up his sleeve next. Do I want to live every month like the last one?

Ah and the good news, I suppose is that a court hearing may be due at the end of November, twenty two months from the day when I told him it was over. The solicitor says the first hearing is only 'House Keeping'. I am not holding my breath, just as well I guess, as I'd have expired long ago!

So in the twilight of morning, as I thought for the hundredth time how useful a crystal ball would be, I tried to encourage myself to make the call. Perhaps to ring at the weekend would be bad manners? Who am I trying to kid?! I have managed to forget reality for the last three weeks, now I must face it, and to be honest, why am I putting myself through this, trying to second guess what they will say? The only way to find out is to make the call.

Off again!

Over two weeks into the school holidays and I am childless once more. This time I nearly cried when they left, if Mum hadn't been there too then perhaps I would have, I couldn't cry in front of her, it would have made her cry too! It has been an emotional time, there have been the most wonderful moments, mixed with job and health worries, life is never dull in suburbia.

We had a brilliant week away, a proper family holiday, it felt easy and free and we all agreed the simple pleasures were the best; we fed ducks, paddled in clear shallow streams and skimmed stones in the river. We laughed, a lot. We enjoyed each other and played silly games. We ate ice cream and sweets until our teeth ached! We were happy. I will always remember that holiday, it is the most normal and stable time that I have spent for as long as I can remember. Sometimes normal is a great relief!

The days after our return were filled with visiting various friends before they went on their holidays, the time has passed so quickly, all of it good.

But the inevitable came. After managing to spend nearly 4 weeks on the trot with my children, I had to let them go. It was harder this time. We were out of the routine of every other weekend with their dad. I will not see them now for over two weeks and by the time they return, the holidays will be nearly over.

And all the time I had with them, the whole four weeks, I wanted to say 'Isn't this good? Couldn't we just do this forever? Can't we just go on and on?' But of course they need to see their father, it's only right, yet they seemed so settled at home with me, I find myself wishing...

How have you spent your summer so far?

Small Sprog is gross!

'Mummy?'
'Yes'
'You'll never guess what's in my hand?'
'Ummmmmm'
He is waving it about in a demented fashion
'No, what is in your hand?'
'My fart!'
'Say again?'
'I caught my fart!!' he giggled 'Can you smell it?!'
He lets it go in the vicinity of my face...

Ewwwwww!

Apparently this sort of behaviour is written in his DNA.

Thank goodness he doesn't have access to matches!
                                    

Tomorrow we are going on holiday, a week away from it all! I have been looking forward to it for such a long time. Schools out, the children are happy, the bags are packed. 

Meanwhile The Dilemma (thank you for all your comments) has not been resolved

I have asked for a temporary earlier finish time, they responded by saying they would call me back today to discuss it. Despite leaving a message and email I have received no response today. I presume negotiation is not possible!

So, although I am really looking forward to the holidays, I am finding it hard to focus on the lovely weeks ahead. There is unfinished business. As I left work today, was I leaving for the last time or will I return in September? 

The Dilema

Over the last month or so I have been applying for jobs, around 16 in total. I have been called to interview twice, both were the 'better' jobs.

The first interview was stressful and long winded. It was the first one I had been to for 5 years, I was not surprised when I did not secure the position. However to get and interview from 85 applicants was something I suppose.

Last Friday I was called to another interview, 60 applicants for that one, better odds! I really need the hours, especially as I have heard nothing from husband since he said he was cutting us off financially the other week, the solicitor seems to have gone quiet too.

Anyway, I was supposed to receive a call tomorrow to let me know if I was successful. When my phone rang this evening I was not expecting the call. 'You were so good at interview' she said 'we knew we had to have you' Good to hear I guess but...

The position is full time. I need the hours. But this also means I will never be able to pick Small Sprog up from school again. He'll cope I hear you say but ...

Husband has always said he wanted the children 50% of the time, every other full week. The main reason I was able to keep them with me was that I worked school hours and it was agreed that this was a major factor in caring for them. He could not be there after school, I got to keep them.I don't want to lose them.

So, if I accept the much needed job, 37 hours when my current position has been cut to just 11 from September, does it mean I lose my children? If I decline the job, I cannot afford to live.

Money does not buy happiness. Practical or emotional stability?

Tomorrow is my day off. If I take the job, I may only have one and a half days left in my current position. It all seems surreal. It all seems wrong. I have a bad feeling. Or am I just feeling like that because my life will change so much. I have not worked full time since Tall Girl was born. 

Affordable living or my children with me most of the time? A stark choice which I need to make now.

I came, I saw, I conquered...

Well not really, more like; I hung on the phone for half an hour, went to the council offices and eventually managed to get my completed form in my hand delivering it to the solicitor on the way home, whooppee!'

It is a long story, but I'm sure you have all had the experience of 'Press 1 for this, Press 2 for that', what do you do if your problem isn't on the options list? Well, my employer, the City Council, have thought of that. The last option was 'Press 6 for HR emergencies!' I have 'pressed 6' more than once these last 10 days , I can tell you!

When you get through to a human they are very soothing, they must really need to be...

Once I knew the form has been located, and the person on the phone promised faithfully to fill it in straight away, I made the journey across the city to pick it up.

I drove through uncharted territory without getting lost (this city is such a sprawling place) and valiantly made it up to the Second Floor Reception with no problem. I spoke to the receptionist explaining I had come to pick up a form and could he let Paul know I had arrived. 'Which Paul?' he said
'I don't know, he just said Paul, he works in the blah de blah dept that fills in legal forms'
'Ah' he said 'I won't be able to find him if you don't know his surname'
'Shall I ring him and ask?' I say
'You'll have to' he grunted. (for goodness sake!)
So I did, from my mobile phone. From the second floor, I called the council office I was standing in! 'It's OK' I tell the soothing voice from 'Press 6', I'm on the second floor. . .

Meanwhile I receive an email from Husband, ''I would never not support my children and I never want to hear you say that again'', he wrote. What does he think paying his wage into an account I have no access to without setting up Child Support Payments is then, I replied? I have had no response.

Time

Life can be such a roller coaster at times. Today husband informed me he was cutting off all financial support to the children and myself from 1st August. There is no child support order in place. My hours have been reduced at work. I am stunned.

Recently I have been feeling so much better, I have even read 2 books from cover to cover. Yet all of a sudden life seems less smooth again.

However right now I am lying on my back watching the clouds rush by, there is a chilled glass of wine sitting next to me. The sun is shining and I am loved. Life can be so strange sometimes. . . .

Reached the big 500 at last (Post not strawberries!)

From this ...

To this (Small Sprogs biggest ever strawberry!)

via this ...

(Tall Girls sticky hands!)

To this, 14 jars of it in fact!

A particularly satisfying weekend!

We picked soft fruit with Mum last Saturday, we do it every year, so much so that Tall Girl pronounced on the way home that once you'd been fruit picking it really felt like summer! We had a tradition, the realisation made me smile.

We picked strawberries and raspberries until our hands were red and sticky but just as we were wandering towards the exit Tall Girl happened upon some huge cultivated blackberries. We had already gorged on everything else but thought we ought to try one in the interests of, well I'm not really sure?! They were delicious, black as night and shiny too, ripe and plump and juicy. Suddenly we unexpectedly ended up with a punnet full of them. I so love this time of year. Tall Girl decided she was going to make them into jam. I was secretly pleased. The tradition was catching, we were 'memory making'

As for Small Sprog, he managed to eat his body weight in strawberries, his favourites, and took great delight in finding 'The Biggest Ever Strawberry' as well as deformed ones that looked like bottoms, or worse! Still at least he remembered not to smuggle out 'free' ones in his trouser pockets, because when you put on your seat belt in the car they go all squashy - a lesson learned a few years ago!

On Sunday we cooked batches of jam together and froze some of the raspberries too. Tall Girl, with a little supervision, made 4 pots of her own blackberry jam. She labeled them proudly, it looks and tastes good. All in all we made 14 jars altogether. There were lots of pans and spoons to lick out...

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...