Return to sender...

I have hit a wall...metaphorically.

I feel utterly wretched and overwhelmed by everything today and have found myself sitting on the stairs wondering what the hell I am doing on at least two occasions.

Any single parent will tell you how tough it is and I am not bemoaning the fact that I am a single mum; in one respect I am very lucky as reminded by a good friend. I make the rules and I can break the rules if I want to; I don't have to answer to anyone else and indeed there are far less arguments in the house than before.

However...I feel tired of trying to keep all the plates spinning today. There are just too many things to do, to think about or actively take some action on. The house is a mess and needs serious attention; there are envelopes to open, chairs and bikes to fix, hobbits to answer to and in general just where the hell is my life direction?

I am aware what each one of these things and more need, I know what I have to do...but my surplus energy has packed its spotted handkerchief and buggered off down the road to a festival of sorts. It has abandoned me and left me in a little heap.

It won't last; this feeling of wanting to pack me and the hobbits in the car and disappear over the horizon....I normally find my mojo again, and invariably it is hiding under the fridge with the accumulation of dust and dirt I haven't cleaned up. But today, just today, I have permission to wallow.

I have been reliably informed that this is ok to do sometimes. That and make lists.

So after at least cleaning out the fridge and other mundane jobs, I am now wallowing. I will make lists later, because wallowing was on the top of the list and that is at least proactive and I can tick one off.

I have also been told to write down each annoyance, irritant and general worry on tiny pieces of paper and stick them in balloons to set them free. So I apologise now, if a brightly coloured balloon arrives in your garden with my handwriting on it...I will try not to swear in case a child finds it.

Just pop the balloon and throw my worry away where you feel is best...because I certainly don't want them sent back; Return to sender...

Embracing my manhood...

The room was dark and a thick layer of smoke hung above the heads of the nervous players; Each of them held in their hands their own destiny... The man in the dark shirt rolled a chip through his fingers, staring steadfastly at the banker beside him...who would fall first?

Ok...so my first taste of the boys poker night was not quite as dramatic as that, but it was an experience at least.

I have become an honorary dad.
I thoroughly enjoy my nights with the mums at the school, however I was recently asked if I would like to join the dad's in either poker or quiz night, and I confess I loved the idea...so J organised it, S brought the chips, T the music while I provided them with pizzas and strawberry laces...what a team.

Alas I am beginning to realise that I am truly terrible at Poker. I think I have it and understand it...but then I fail myself. I did have a couple of cracking hands, but was beaten by the luckiest of peeps, S....who was just onto a winner last night.  So when that happens, I doubt myself and then make mistakes...I am hoping with further practice my card bluffing skills will improve, certainly J was a very good teacher.

We also played a game that should have its own copyrights to...as T introduced us to a game called 'Black Jack'....but wasn't actually the black jack, something entirely different. Took me about an hour to get used to that, and then they changed it again...

Nevertheless it was a great evening...every female should do a boys night out at some point. Things are far more straight forward, and the conversation is more direct;
"Beer?"
"Yep."
"Pizza?"
"Yep."
There is no fuss about what is being presented to them on a plate...it is food and beer, they eat and drink it. What could possibly be the issue?

Unless there is a serious disagreement...then a serious competitive debate will ensue...
"I understood the house stayed at 17"
"No, according to casino rules...."
"Fairly sure that I am right...that is how we have always played it."
"No, I am. I have been to Las Vegas and I know about these things."
Not quite the conversation...but you get the drift, and it became quite serious and testosterone driven after five minutes.

...and their best advice and solution to any problem for a female is quite simply, just flash your boobs. That may not get your problem solved ladies, but it will make the man you are talking to feel infinitely better...apparently!!!

So after a week of mowing lawns, making fire on a BBQ and now poker...I feel that embracing my manhood is just really the next step surely?

No regrets...

I met someone very interesting today.

She deserves a blog all of her own...

As I stood in the queue for my lottery ticket, (of which I won absolutely bugger all) she stood in the queue in front of me. She turned back to me and the conversation, went more or less like this...

"You have a lot of shopping..." She remarked at me, surveying the trolley in front of me.
I nod, "three boys eat a lot of food."
"Three boys? Wow...did you never want a girl?"
"Nope, never regret what you have...I am hoping my boys will look after me in my old age."
She looks at me, "I never had children. Was never that type."
I shrug at her, "I never thought I would, but hey things happen."
"Maybe, I just knew that I didn't really do children. Men, however were a different thing." With this she smiled at me wickedly, "a lot of men."
The lady behind me in the queue starts coughing...a lot.

At this point she gets called to the till, and I call after her, "you and I need to talk more."
After obtaining our purchases she waits for me in the aisle. "It was always the men I loved dear," she states, "many lovers, many friends."

I can not believe that this woman is confessing to me in the middle of a supermarket...she is really on a roll here.
"My last love affair finished when I was 47... An American, who used to fly over to see me...I used to wear those baby doll nighties that were all the rage then." She said, reminiscing. "It was amazing."
"Why did it end?" I ask in all innocence, and she smiles again....
"Oh I had a call about midnight one night...from his wife."
"Oh."
"Yes...unfortunately I only ever saw him one time more. Shame really, we were perfect for each other. I often think of him."
"So no one since? "
"No, no one since...many before him, but no one since. No one else compared."
"That seems very sad. Don't you worry about being alone?"
"No," she laughed at me, "I am very independent. I just turned 87, and my favourite thing is a cigarette with a glass of wine.  I am very happy, and like you said...one should never have regrets."

Isn't it incredible that some people walk into your life, tell you their life story and it makes sense? Angela was actually an adorable looking elderly woman; fantastically interesting...and empowering.

No regrets.

Awkward silences...

I have a friend who is the life and soul of the party.

She loves chatting to people....when there is a group. However when it comes to one to one, mainly with the opposite sex...her nerves get the better of her.

She finds it...well...awkward.

"I just find I have nothing to say, I don't know what to say when I start a conversation."
"But isn't that normal?" I suggest to her.
"Well, you always know what to say...look at the workmen yesterday?"

Ahh, the workmen yesterday. We watched from my bedroom window...dirty men, in holes doing men stuff...it kept us amused for at least ten minutes.

I even bribed them with cups of tea and biscuits so that they would wolf whistle Pootle when she got home later that day.

"But that is just banter...anyone can do that." I reassure her, "But if you meet someone who you feel attracted to, you get tongue tied. I also get the feeling that what I have to say isn't of interest to them, that I am boring the pants off them...and asking them about their day and feeling comfortable with day to day conversation comes in time."
She sighs, "If only I could get over that feeling of awkwardness...then perhaps, I could actually start dating someone properly."

Hmmm....I mention this to another friend today, and we have set our friend a challenge. We have set her up on a date, with another couple so that she doesn't feel too threatened. Within this date she has to come back with five clear facts about the guy she is paired with....and she can not drink while she is out.

It is a tough challenge for her...call it therapy, a slow introduction to getting back out there.

I am not allowed to go as it is entirely possible she will talk to me all night instead...so I am on babysitting duties, while she goes out and faces her demons.

So remember babe, awkward silences are normal in the beginning...it is part of the process. Yes, there should be banter and a sense of humour...but until you really get to know each other, it is ok to be unsure of what to say.

Go forth...and chat!!!

Slow dancing...

Tonight I slow danced in my kitchen by myself.

I can't imagine that it was an attractive look. I have my old pj bottoms on, my nightshirt and a blue hoodie.

However, a little bit of imagination, a little bit of hope, wishful thinking and some excellent dance moves can do wonders for ones self esteem.

Perhaps one day, someone will want to slow dance with me...

Life begins at forty one...

"Ok, now bear with me...but, do either of you two find a sweaty man attractive?" Says J while sipping coffee in my back garden this evening.

"Is he dirty too?" Asks Pootle.
"No."
"Are his clothes dirty, like he has been labouring and toiling over some dirty digging work?" I ask.
"No."
"So just dripping with sweat, nothing else? No dirty clothing, no boots, no big boy van? Just sweat."
"Yes."
Pootle and I look at each and say simultaneously, "no."
"Oh." J is disappointed. "Just me then."
Pootle shrugs, "yep."

"Why the question? Who has been profusely sweating in front of you and why?" I ask, and she explains... "Well that would be why, wouldn't it? You fancy the pants of him anyway...the sweat just enhanced the pheromones."
"I remember calling out my mechanic to have a look at my car once," Pootle explains dreamily, "when he arrived he had been scrambling so was dirtied up to the eyeballs, was sweaty and hot. He got out of his van and I think I may have just given myself to him there and then had he asked."
"In fact," she continues, "I really hope no one was watching me as he pushed himself under the car, cos I actually mouthed OH MY GOD to myself...he was that hot."

"Your car so needs to break down again babe," I tell her.
"It so does...a lot of things need to break down, eh?" She replies.
"Especially if we get a deluge of hot, dirty, sweaty men to assist us with fixing things...eye candy." I agree.

"You know," says J after Pootle has gone home to bed, "I wish I had done a blog of my year of forty like you."
"Well, in theory you have - you are in a lot of it." I tell her.
She shrugs as if to say, true.
"It has been quite a year, hasn't it?" I say.
"Yes, a hell of a year. To be honest, they say that of course life begins at forty...but for you, I think that isn't true."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I think yours will begin at forty-one."
"Really? Maybe that should be the new blog...Life begins at forty one."
J smiles, "Now that, I can't wait to read. I want to know what the ending will be."

Don't we all babe...

Simplistic...

I feel in a pensive mood this evening.

I confess, I am unsure if this is a good or bad thing...it is certainly not a great thing to over think a situation or mood, but perhaps it is the long weekend giving me time to reflect...

Pootle and I have toiled hard this weekend. I barely recognise my back garden and it has taken me two days, several cups of tea, two lawnmowers and left me with very sore hands to get it back to some sort of decency after the winter months.

The sun was out today, in full force...I think I even got a bit of colour as I wandered around the garden with weeds and a spade. Eventually, as the sun started to set we commenced the BBQ and the gin, to admire my work and discuss the weekend in general.

A friend had been round earlier in the day and I mentioned this to Pootle...him and his wife are unhappy together, but they stay together for the simple reason that it is safe.
"Why do people do that?" I ask Pootle over the rim of the lemon floating in my gin..."why would you choose to stay with someone, when you still have maybe thirty, forty years left of your life?"
Pootle agrees, "scared of the unknown. But I agree, if both of you are unhappy, have no ties why not just let it go? Essentially it is your life, you don't belong to anyone else...so live it happy, either with someone else or alone...but be happy."

Simplistic?

I can not understand why you would choose a path that means you will remain in a loveless relationship for the rest of your life. Why you would choose safe over the chance of being with someone who really cares about you, or even just the single life and simply being happy doing your own thing.

Perhaps that is why I am so deep in thought this evening...