The end of an era...

So today the end of an era arrived...

There were no dramatic exits, no traumatic goodbyes or slamming of doors even ... there were however a few tears shed.

My bestie Pootle moved today.
Not just from one side of a room to another, but for now, a whole 3 miles away.
I can no longer run across the road in my onesie after the kids have fallen asleep for a quick G&T. There is no point, from now on, in nipping over whenever I run out of Spaghetti, eggs or ham, (she was my one stop Londis), and no longer will I arrive after a busy day at work, see her car and pop into her house for the pair of us to de-stress over a cuppa and a Rich Tea biscuit.

She has, rightly so, upped sticks and changed location. Having bought a new house and decided on that next adventure in her life. She will soon be within walking distance again...but never as close as we have been for the last three years.

I wish my beloved bestie a wonderful new life in her new home when it is ready. A change is as good as a rest they say, and I firmly believe that she has made the right decision. However allow me to indulge myself here when I say I arrived home this afternoon, and realised completely and fully that she had gone.

I had a good cry...then with a cuddle from a hobbit, felt mildly improved.
You see Pootle and I have already seen each other through so much and we have lived in each other's pockets for the best part of three years. We have shared the strains of raising children alone, the stress of dealing with ex and new relationships, financial worries, fun, motivational speeches, outrageously re-enacted music videos, drunken nights...and laughter....so much laughter. I can honestly say I couldn't have got through the last two and half years without her.

However now it is her turn to do something new; to try out a different path and I couldn't be happier for her. Nothing stays the same, we would stagnate if we did...but what I have realised this evening is how much we have helped each other to develop into the people we are today. We have given each other confidence, and believed that the other person could. Restored some of the faith and un-done some of the damage.

She is my best buddy, my soulmate and my favourite Gin and Tonic maker....rare commodities to find all in one person.

I am her biggest fan.
Good luck Pootle...the sequel is gonna be amazeballs!!!

Thank God, for Homemade Pizza...

I have been asked by two different people this week, as to whether or not I am still blogging.

The shortest answer is yes. Yes, I am.
However, I have been concentrating so very hard on the book these past few months that thoughts about blogging about my everyday life has fallen down the side of the sofa. Nevertheless, keen as I am to make people happy and to at least attempt to please the two people who had the grace to mention the blog, here I am today.
So, if you want someone to blame - I can provide their email details at a later stage.

I have to confess, I thought (past tense), that I was a fairly cool mum. I didn't expect to get down with every nuance that my children were going through or indeed liked, as I would rather watch paint dry than listen to One Direction but I do at least know who they are. However, I thought I was pretty much up with the times and was ready with fantastic knowledge that would make my children say with a wink and a smile, "She's got it, our mum's a dude."

Alas with a rude awakening I have discovered that this is not the case. I am 'Embarrassing Mum'.

My son had a school disco yesterday. I lovingly ironed, yes FFS, a pair of fab, khaki green, combat trousers that I considered my son would adore. I imagined he would come home and see them lying on the bed, and simply turn to me and say;
"You are amazing Mum. God, they are so cool, how did you get to be that cool?"
I would, of course, have shrugged off the compliment with cool nonchalance, while inside screaming 'Get in girl."

Unfortunately, things didn't go quite to plan.
"What's that on my bed?" Says a grumpy faced Spider-Man.
"Green combats, aren't they fab?"
"Err, no." Followed by a face full of disgust.
"Oh."
"Why are they on my bed?" And my 9 year old Gok Wan tosses them to the floor with a flick of his duvet.
"I thought you might like to wear them tonight?" I say hastily picking them back up again.
"Err, I don't think so. I'm wearing the red ones."
"What?!?! They are old and faded, and horrid."

Thus started an argument that most of the street must have heard. I wanted him to wear the smart trousers, so that he could woo the girls at the local disco and look a dude, where he wanted to wear the same bloody red jeans he always wears which look like they have been washed and beaten on the rocks in a local stream.

We argued for at least ten minutes between doing other things. He steadfastly refused and I found myself between a rock and hard place. Much like where the jeans had been.

Eventually I sent a photo of him in each pair to a good friend and asked his advice. Spiderman and I  agreed that whatever the friend went for, then that would be the winner. I secretly felt that I was in a good place, after all - I knew, I was the cool one. What did Gok know?
A few minutes later my friend texted back, "Red. Defo. They say, 'Seduce with a diet-coke.'"
"Yes!!" Shouted Spiderman, punching the air with his fist.
I had to accept defeat. However it wasn't just the defeat that mortified me, it was also the total realisation that I am out of touch with what 9 year old boys want to wear - what they feel is cool.

Thankfully I am not the only one. Pootle is feeling much the same, and confirmed my suspicions that we are not the hip kids we thought we were.

"I had exactly the same conversation with mine," She lamented to me over tea and sympathy this morning. "Yesterday, I chose a fab pair of denim shorts but mine wanted to buy a pair of torn off jogging bottoms! I ask you! They looked like something I had dug out of the bin. I flatly refused of course, but you'd think I'd bought him an orange tank top with his reaction!"
I couldn't help but laugh, "God, what has happened? I know I am not a big clothes shopper, but I thought I had a bit of an idea."
"I know. Trouble is they are 9. They are balanced on a precipice of being a young child and then just over the cliff is a young man who is starting to think about how they look." She continued, "The funny thing is, we had this big row yesterday about it, then this morning he walks out in bright green shorts, bright green trainers and a pink t-shirt singing the Frozen soundtrack." She laughed at the memory, "They are still little boys who want their mums, but then every so often, this young man rears its head and says, 'No, I feel the grunge-look is more my style'."
"The disco itself was an eye opener too - when I said "goodbye and have fun', he just looked at me as though I had suggested the most ridiculous thing in the world. 'Whatever, mum'."

...and thus it starts...the beginning of the pre-teenage years. The start of total defiance, annoyance, and they know it all scenarios...
Serves me right for raising boys with their own minds.

The good news is we haven't quite completed the transformation. They still squeal with excitement at the thought of homemade pizza and want cuddles on the sofa. Alas, I'm just going to have to brave out the next few years, and I suspect it won't be long before I start going to them for advice about what to wear.

Understanding friends...

Sometimes there are occasions in my life where winning the epic title of Mother of the Year award is so far beyond my reach that I should have been born a male...

This week is the first week of the Easter Holidays. This always brings on a test of any parenting skills, but the fact that I started low means that my expectations are not high for the rest of the two weeks.

Our first weekend started with a lazy sunday. We woke up late and I made them a large breakfast. So far so good. This breakfast was so large that I expected to see three young contented boys with swollen bellies lying on the sofa, passing the following hour away dreamily whilst being educated by The Disney Channel.

A proper sunday breakfast therefore you would think, would be followed much later by a proper sunday dinner. Alas it all went downhill from there. The laziness of the day meant that the hobbits ate a Fab ice cream and a packet of Fruit-Tella for lunch and sausage sandwiches for tea. I just couldn't be bothered.

There are days when trying to think of something that combines both a healthy and nutritious balance is completely beyond me, and this was definitely one of those days. To be fair, we didn't quite resort to a McRoast...but it wasn't that far off from a very poor meal.

So, Monday. Fresh start. I was at work and the hobbits were being shipped off, sorry cared for, at a new childcare group. This was their first time as the previous one they had been to was now closed, (Nothing to do with us - honest) and they were going for the whole day.

When I arrived there were other children clambering forward to get onto the bus that would take them to the club, and my three shuffled forward slowly. It was then that I noticed that every other child had a bag on their back. Hmmm, was I supposed to be sending spare clothes in? Were they going swimming? Had I missed an email?
I asked a fellow parent, "Sorry, but can I ask? Was I supposed to be sending in something extra? Spare clothes?"
She looked at me and smiled. She was with two young boys, who looked far smarter than my three, who looked they'd just rolled out of bed into their clothes that they'd left lying on the floor the night before. She really was a super mum.
"Oh, my boys are there for the day. This is their lunch."
I felt myself go a little lightheaded. "Lunch? Was I supposed to send lunch?" I looked panicked at the driver of the minibus who just looked back at me.
"Only if you haven't paid for lunch." Said the mother who my children were now looking longingly at as a potential replacement for their own.
I gulped and looked again at the driver, "I didn't pay for lunch, and I haven't got them any lunch." I said slowly.
Within a few moments we managed to resolve it and the driver reassured me that there was a kitchen at the group, and that the hobbits would indeed eat that day. A part of me was tempted to slip him a tenner and ask him to pop into the garage on the way, however something his voice suggested that wouldn't go down well.

So after saying my goodbyes and driving off, I reflected on the fact that I am a bloody disorganised mother who sent her children off somewhere for 8 hours WITHOUT FOOD! What sort of mother does that? Thankfully hobbits were fed, and no harm was done, however I often wonder how my children do not despair of me and are not more prepared, and make sure they tuck biscuits in their pockets.

My friends were understanding. They also reminded me that until recently the previous childcare club had provided lunch, so that it wasn't such a terrible assumption to make that the new one would do the same. They didn't scold me for being useless and disorganised.

Nevertheless, two days later another friend's son came for the day whilst she herself went to work. They arrived nice and early, cheerful and with scooters for a morning to be spent at the park. Her son would be spending the majority of the day with us and my eldest was looking forward to it.
"I hope he behaves himself," she said as she walked down the path back to her car, "Oh and by the way," she turned back with a smile. "I brought some biscuits for them to share and his lunch...you know, just in case."

Yeah - my friends understand.

How to...

...procrastinate about writing a book...


1) Open computer and attempt to stare at the book in a reasonably intelligent and positive way, that suggests you know what you are doing...i.e. blag.

2) Write down the idea that has been swilling around in your head for the past few days in a random chapter...You have no idea where to put it, but it sounds good - for now.

3) Go back to the first chapter and plead with it to tell you which first chapter version is better...you then realise that perhaps a combination of all three of the current versions could potentially be better and therefore there is now a fourth option.

4) Put Billy Ocean, Red Light Spells Danger on and dance around the kitchen like a woman possessed pretending you're an extra in a Hollywood Blockbuster about single women...

5) Agree with oneself that you need to go back to old fashioned methods for inspiration and rush out to buy really nice writing paper...get home, don't want to deface really nice lined writing paper and just look at it.

6) Make pot noodle and pretend to look through chapters in a effort to remain optimistic about the fact that you have written 'a book'.

7) Search deep within your soul for inspiration and find only an urge for a chocolate digestive...

8) Take a break and check out Facebook...repeat this throughout.

9) Write blog about procrastinating, in order to justify said procrastination...

10) Realise the time wasted today and go pick up kids from school...

In memory of a Gentle Giant...

Welcome to the first day of Spring......'tis good ya?

Certainly for me it feels as though it was a welcome relief. To know that Winter is behind us for now, and that hopefully Summer is just around the corner.

The last month for our family has been difficult, with the loss of someone very close to us who we miss greatly. My gentle giant of a Godfather sadly passed away a few weeks ago and this week we all attended his well supported funeral.

I find funerals all rather a bit odd. There you are meeting all these people who cared, loved and laughed with someone that you loved too. They all know him in one way or another, and yet the majority of the people have never met before. It also feels as though the person passing has missed out on the greatest celebration of their years...their life.

I believe that funerals should be done before someone dies. So you really get to say goodbye and swap photos, stories & memories. So the person who is dying really has a chance to see how much we love them. I spend the whole time thinking; I wish they could see this.

I am lucky. I have an extensive amount of memories that I share about my Godfather. I can talk to my children about him with warmth, with tears, with humour and his legacy will continue to go on.

He would have loved this weather. He was always out in his garden, watching the birds and walking his dogs. So it seems fitting that the week of his funeral saw the first day of Spring.

So to my Godfather this week, Goodbye and Thank you. I am honoured to have been a part of your life.

Friday night out...

So, it's that time of year again.

The time of year where we show the person that we share our lives with how much that they mean to us; where random gestures of love are shown and wild declarations of passion and diamonds are given.

Hmm, no? Not feeling it this year?

Well, this time last year I felt rough and miserable. It was not a good time of the year for me, and if I can recall it also wasn't a good time for a certain depressed Valentine card seller, who was in love last year with a girl who was dating a pilot. I haven't forgotten that guy from last year, who looked positively suicidal to think that he wouldn't have the woman he loved, and I suppose there was a part of me that thought in a similar vein.

Most of us have been there at some point.
'Yes, that is the one,' we say, 'that is the one I have been waiting for, fighting off crocodiles for and crossing burning hot sand for....'  Then, bugger it, they go and decide that actually you weren't the one they wanted and that just over the hill promised a much greener area.

Tsk, people and their independent decisions.

The good news is, if this is you this year, I can reliably inform you that it will get better, and genuinely promise you that all pain dissipates. Someone told me that last year on a comment on my blog, and it is absolutely true. All pain dissipates.

Emotional, wretched and beaten - you will get through it. Yes, there will be some who feel it stronger and longer than others, but there is always a way out. Eventually the fog lifts, and you start to do the things that you enjoy again - you no longer feel bereft and sad. You actually notice that you don't think about them a million times before you have had breakfast; that every song on the radio isn't about you or them and you can watch your favourite program again.

Twelve months on and I am even more different than I was then, or even 24 months previously. The changes I have seen in myself in two years, makes me realise that I wasn't ready for any relationships then and I am probably not now either. My advice to anyone in the same boat is just enjoy being you again...I am.

So what have I got planned for Valentine's? Well, Pootle and I are going Speed Dating. Neither of us have any intention of meeting anyone for anything more than just a fun evening, but we have never done it before - and we love to people watch.

So Happy Valentine's to you all - including the single people. Enjoy it - if only for the fact that it's a Friday night out.

Appreciation...

Ah the end of another year.

The time to reflect back and look at our high's and our low's, to consider what we have achieved and perhaps to think about maybe what we would like to have another bash at next year...

Pootle and I have watched TV this evening and are earnestly watching the clock for the midnight toll...just so we can go to bed. Not that this detracts from the year, but if I am completely honest...New Year's Eve just doesn't really do it for me.

All a great deal of hype for just a few minutes, however, it has made Pootle and I sit and make plans for our forthcoming year, which is worth doing.

Setting goals that may seem far fetched, but hey what is life without a challenge? Merely existing...

So goals for 2014?
Pootle is gonna be wild and wear more red lipstick...she no longer feels the need to reign in her sexual goddess and wants to show off her deviant side. Scarily, I think the caged goddess may be about to create havoc in the coming year...

As for me, red lipstick was never my colour - so 2014 will be the year for concentrating on the book. There are a lot of rejections around the corner, a lot of tears, but it feels like the last two years has been working towards this. So I will be aiming to try and get it published...it will be hard to let go of it, because it is my baby and I am not sure if it will ever be truly ready in my mind, but at some point I just have to try...

However someone said to me earlier this year, that anything worth achieving should be hard, otherwise you don't appreciate it...

So, I wish everyone who reads my blog a very Happy New Year, make a plan, meet your goals, go wild and wear red lipstick, enjoy it....and if it is a hard decision or hard work then I hope you appreciate it even more...

Have a good one :-)