Happiness and home

Because the two of the above are always linked...Its Christmas eve,the peanut is asleep after tiring herself out at work with me for 5 hours,the boys are out in search of xmas spirit(s) and will fall in happy and totally wasted sometime in the next 3 hours.Right now,the house is peaceful,the altar is trimmed and freshly covered in green and red,there are presents everywhere-all carefully wrapped by me and waiting for the moment I can finally fill the stockings,and after the manic rush of xmas eve at work there is only a sense of peace and calm.This is my favourite moment of christmas.Everything is done,the house is calm and warm,Peanut is sleeping and I can enjoy the anticipation of tomorrow and watching everyone open their stockings. Thats what I want for xmas,the same thing I want every year,to have the boys forget work,just for one day and act like children again,to be happy and relaxed and playful. I want Peanut to open her stocking just like she always does,with excitement that makes me smile like a cheshire cat.I want what every mother wants,for the whole family-even those not with us on the day-to know that I am thinking of them and love them,and I hope that they all have a wonderful,fun,exciting christmas.I hope they all feel loved and warm and happy. And THAT is better than anything you can wrap ;) Happy holidays everyone xxx

goodwill and gunk

Well,the previous situation resolved itself ok...small luteal cyst,meh. Part of me is relieved,and part of me is sad. I know. He doesnt want kids,Im getting to old to go through that shit again,and Ive been trying (and mostly succeeding) to convince myself that I dont want another child,Im not broody and everything is cool. Unfortunately the large hormonal fallout from this last incident has thrown all my careful reasoning out of the window,and left me mourning the fact that Ill never really experience any of that again. I should be so grateful. I have the best little peanut ever,and Im so proud of her and how far we have come on her way.And yet...there is still that sneaky little wish that wont go away. Meh,maybe I just want to be a housewife. hehehe yeah,and an osteoarcheologist too...Oh,and the goodwill is for the xmas spirit-I cannot WAIT to watch the kids open their presents,and cant wait until that magical time when Im leaving work on xmas eve,ready to make christmas for the kids.That walk home is always a happy one. As for gunk? Well,its what we're all coughing up right now...yay colds. :( Least they be better by christmas..... :)

charting and cards.

12 dpo,BFN. Think Im out,but Justice,Empress and 3 cups could convince me otherwise...nothing to do but put my faith where it belongs and wait it out...Im not as strong as I was,and Im twice as scared.Theres 2 to let down and one to save...and all these numbers add up to heartbreak again...still,its out of my hands and into Hers.

blood and cycles

There is a saying I'm a great believer in: 'What goes around comes around'. I also believe that there is never one chance at anything in this life. If something is meant to happen,then it will. That said,I wonder if anyone else has been in the position where they have wanted something so much,put all their time and energy into it,only to get what they sought so desperately just as the idea is wearing off? Im sure its not just me.Ah well,change happens,world spins,and we all follow the path we've made ourselves. Im sure everything will be ok. That said,wish I could be so confident about other situations I find myself in...Im bleeding,well spotting really,out of cycle-mid cycle,complete with cramps. Its not happened before,and being as the last period was a bit weird,Im just hoping we dont have a repeat of the situation a year or so back. I really think its more likely to be something else though,something even more worrying,endometriosis?uterine polyps?Who knows? Not me,and Im plenty scared. This kinda crap always happens on a saturday to,and if NHS direct were any less direct they'd be operating from Mars...in fact,given the 5 hour wait for a callback,Id say thats where they've based their call centres...anyway,sure it will resolve itself one way or another.Its probably just my hormones realising Ive hit 30 something.If not,well,its a good job Mr has decided he doesnt want kids,cos whatever this is,pretty sure it doesnt bode well for fertility...

age and identity

This post originally started after noticing several friends of mine who have just hit their 30s, and in some cases just had children, blogging about how they felt a little lost. Sure,they are happy,just a little unsure of who they are these days.That got me thinking,and before you can say 'wouldntstartgoingthereifIwereyou...' I realised I had my own mini identity crisis going on.This isnt exactly a new thing,as anyone bored enough to read all these posts will figure out pretty quickly.Anyhow,that lead me to wondering how we define ourselves in the first place (see what happens when my brain is allowed out unsupervised?!) and the most common way seems to be by what we do.Our interests,hobbys,family status etc all kind of mush together to create 'us'. At least,how we are seen by others anyway,defining myself to me would take way longer and be a good deal less pleasant! So,I guess with that in mind,here is me-lite...
First,and most importantly-Im a Mother...step forward the Peanut!
Secondly,kind of leading on from the first, Im a Homeschooler-at least for this year...though I have to admit the more time we spend homeschooling,the more Id like to continue...despite blatant disapproval from one flatmate and the boyfriends support but resignation as we have less time to 'us'.
Thirdly,Im a Hooper. Yes,I did say hooper. I play with an oversized hula hoop on a daily basis.Not for fitness,Im to lazy for that,but because it is fun,addictive and easy and doesnt kill my back the way pole dancing does these days.
Four,Im a sewer/knitter/croche-er. I suppose 'crafter' would be easier here,but that makes me think of people who make things with beads or stampers,and Ive never been much good at that kind of stuff. Mostly Im talking about less exciting stuff,mending and sewing new clothes for me and Peanut,making costumes,toys,clothes for toys,everyday cleaning cloths,pads etc. You get the idea. Hey,its cheaper than buying new,and its a little bit more individual.
Five-I like to bake. Im an average cook at best,I have my recipes like mac n cheese,hot and sour ginger soup etc that I love and fall back on regularly,but when it comes to baking,that is an obsession. Mainly vegan,not because we are,but because I always seem to be out of eggs,lactose intollerance and the fact that its more fun for Peanut to inform people that the cake they have just eaten contains vinegar..hehhe..the latest recipe is banana cake with peanut butter/choc icing...mmmm

Reading the above,I guess that there is probably one label which would cover everything-Hippie! Peanut is always teasing me about this,but I have to admit,chuck in the fact my religion is probably pagan,my other hobbies include gardening,conservation and finding ways to save money/the planet and yeah...suddenly 'hippie' fits. Cant say I wear tie dye much,and I do wash daily (with dr bronners but hey) and yes,I do keep the pits n legs hair free (or as hair free as possible when one has black hair and bloody white skin!) but generally,Im a hippie. Add a love of music particularly dirty southern rock,country and world,and the fact Im now on a quest to grow my hair out and back to its former -halfway down the back-glory and I may as well be living in a commune somewhere singing drippy folk songs and eating lentils or whatever.
Im also a reader,a bear-keeper,a backrub specialist,a mother hen figure,a sarcastic cow,a handywoman,stubborn pain in the ass and many other things which are a good deal less charitable..but there you go. Label away.

homeschooling, hooping and hair

Well,we've taken the plunge...made the suicidal lemming leap from the comfort of sending Peanut to school to BEING the school. Many of you have politely questioned the sanity of this,pointed out that school teaching + working 20 plus hours a week = total mental breakdown.Well,you are all right...it IS knackering,Ive been getting up at 7.35,getting the washing on and the house ready,waking the Peanut at 8,starting lessons at 9 and then either rushing off to work 2 till 8,or more lessons.When evening comes I am normally to be found cramming lesson plans and working out teaching strategy.That or reading texts and working out how to break them down,scouting new ones etc. My brain is on the go from the second I wake up to the minute I lie down,and the only thing that stops me thinking enough to get to sleep is an iPod loaded with sleep enhancing tunes to drift me off into a coma. And you know what? I am absolutely LOVING it!!! We have had a week of the most stress free mornings ever! Peanut wakes up naturally,has time to read,eat brekkie and get the all important laxative dose numero 1 down her BEFORE starting school. No tears over maths,no stressful screaming matches,not even a raised voice...unheard of in our house! The seemingly insolvable maths riddles of last year are actually proving strangely do-able with an hour a day one to one tuition,and the odd hackey sack juggling whilst reciting times tables methodology.History is so much more alive when taken out of the classroom setting and placed in museums,family recollection and books.English is amazing,she never ceases to astound me with her grasp of fairly advanced concepts,and poetry analysis is way more fun when choosing poems involving her beloved felines-big thank you to TS Eliot, Yeats and Kipling there :) It IS hard,but it is also so amazingly fun! Best of all, me and Peanut have time together to actually talk,and share stuff. No more hurried convos on the way to school,no more being too tired to catch up at the end of the day. I have more patience than I ever thought I would,and most importantly,Peanut is happy! Life is good.
Hooping-well,Im buying a new hoop,been a while since I hoop danced,but Im thinking of starting again. Could be a fun addition to PE lessons too :)
Hair-yup,the dreads are back! Only on either side,but I feel better having a couple of them in again-no more full head dreads tho ;)
Peace and calm guys,or at least calm-peace in our time seems unlikely,and peace in our house even more so!

pretty boys and perfection with stubble

Okay,this is a short one,because firstly,I still cant sit comfortably for any length of time without my back reminding me that humans evolving to bipeds was the DUMBEST move ever,and because Peanut is currently halfway through a movicol wash out. Hmmm...yay!
Having sat through the current 'end of the world' type hysteria that surrounds Twishite,err Twilight,Id like to pose a question: Will someone PLEASE explain to me WHY Robert bloody Pattinson is so supposedly attractive?!! I mean,Ive tried to be objective,but for the love of god hes a skinny,pale,unnatractive,petulant little BOY! Now,anyone who knows me will know I have a fairly strong opinion on the subject of pretty boys. You can keep all your Brad Pitts,Johnny Depps etc etc just give me a man. Please,an honest to gods big ,tall ,hairy straight talking intelligent MAN!!! Why would anyone want to date a guy who spends more time in the bathroom than they do?! Who is prettier than them?! (with me I admit that gives them plenty of scope but hey,not the point) Many people will doutless be aware of my 'Eastwood scale'.Constructed during adolescence,this was my way of measuring a guy up (not like that you perves!).Clint Eastwood,being the object of my total lust in any movie hes been in,but especially the more recent ones,Unforgiven?hmmmmmmm..drool...,was obviously at the very top. Next down,settling in at a comfortable 9,Jean Reno.Oh dear god that man is incredible...Id sit through the atrocity that is godzilla just to hear him speak,and damned if Id be listening properly cos Id be too busy drooling... I am aware that both of these men are easily old enough to be my father (daddy issues?dont even START me on that) but the charisma and sheer magnetism both display leaves me just a little breathless.Now I am fortunate enough to be dating someone for whom I have renamed the scale. Yup,step aside Clint,the name of the scale is now Marshall. Hes 6ft5,shaggy haired,bearded,broad shouldered,confident and intelligent. Yes ladies,I know. And no,hes mine. Absolutely no sharing. With this man to measure up to,there are gonna be no contenders.That said,I still spent all of last week (when movement was excruciating and painkillers delerium inducing) watching back to back Reno movies,with the odd Eastwood classic thrown in. There is something amazingly comforting about Jean Renos voice,90% french but with the odd touch of something else thrown in. Now,the third man on the scale was Hugh Jackman. I know,cliche,little bit less iconic,but there was still something about him. Now,poor long suffering man in my life was happy to accept I may find Clint Eastwood the pinnacle of male-ness,and even accepted that Jean Reno could come a very close second...supposedly both of them are worthy of his respect and therefore ok to drool over. Jackman however,was apparently not. Ah well,given the choice of an hour in a room with a fully naked Hugh Jackman with a can of whipped cream and a pair of handcuffs,or a ten minute conversation with a fully clothed Jean Reno,and I pick the latter. Hey,its all very well being pretty but I need a little mental stimulation too-never underestimate the sheer pleasure of having an intelligent conversation...with someone who makes you drool-theres a challenge for you! (Oh,and Id turn down the latter for a mere 2 second look at the glory that is Mr Eastwood,clothing optional ;) Hey,a girls only human!) Fortunately for both him and me,none of these men compare to the perfection that is my long suffering boyfriend...X And he knows,dont worry,he knows! Now,all that said,STILL wanna explain the Pattinson thing to me?! Didnt think so.Accept a lost cause guys...

Pain,Gain, Loss and Leon.

This last month has been a strange one. Grandma passed away a week ago.It was what the nurses called 'a mercy',she had been slowly dying for some time,and after all the pain and confusion,the morphine induced sleep that took her was probably a blessing. Now,as anyone who has buried a loved one will know,there are always relatives who,while fairly distant during life for geographical reasons will appear after the death and have to then come to terms with sorting the estate etc. Much emphasis seems to be on ensuring valuables are safely passed down.By 'valuables' I mean jewellery. Now,it appears I am the owner of a beautiful opal brooch and diamond ring.They are lovely.However,they dont say 'Grandma' to me. I look at them and have no memory of the objects in relation to her.Now,the old manky stuffed owl who has been sat unsteadily on the living room shelf since I was a child,THAT says 'Grandma.' The pinny apron,the small pompom rabbit,they are things from my childhood. These I will treasure far more than the jewellery,which will sit in a safe somewhere for safekeeping.Now,having tried to give the pieces away to my cousin,I was told that Grandma had always intended them to be passed down,as they were given to her by her mother,and so on. For that reason,they will stay with me. I couldnt bear to sell them,Im sure they are worth a fair bit,but they have been part of our family history for generations,and no one should blithely give away such links with their past. So little is known about my mothers side of the family,so it is comforting to know that on Dads side there is a line which can be followed fairly easily. All we know about Nannas parents by contrast is that her father was a career soldier,and her mother was french,spoke with an atypical french accent,clearly influenced by some other language,and had almost indian colouring.Nanna remembers very little else,and records are scarce. If I had to guess,I would say she was an immigrant,possibly illegal,from somewhere like morocco or algeria. Grandmas line on the other hand is firmly rooted in England,Scotland,and a touch of Australia.
With the arrival of the family for the funeral,came my first glimpse of my favourite cousins first child. Skye is beautiful,and to see my cousin as a devoted father is amazing and very cool. On the note of new arrivals,one of my first loves is due to be a father in september. I am so happy for him.Quiet to the point of mute when we met,I am confident that fatherhood will change him for the better in that he will open up more,and connect his mouth and his heart,so that he will be able to tell those he loves what they mean to him. While there is always a small part that aches a little sweetly to see him take his own steps to parenthood,I am so happy that he told me,and I wish him so much love and luck with the new baby-just as long as he brings the little one to see me so I can get my broody mother hen fix without having to change a billion nappies!
I guess that covers gain and loss,now on to the pain...anyone who knows me will be aware that I have always had a fairly ahem,adventurous streak in the sense I will always be the first to climb the tree,skate the vert and perfect the pole move.While this makes for an interesting life,it doesnt do much for the back. Add about 16 years in retail,much of it in stockrooms and warehouses where,as the only girl you are obliged to show you can keep up with the boys,and the recipe for back problems is pretty obvious. I have trapped nerves,damaged ligaments,done strange things to discs and now it all comes back to haunt me periodically with a vengeance that makes me swear Ill do calisthenics for the rest of my life if I can just straighten up and get off the floor,please! It is usually triggered by a fever,strangely,in this case a minor cold which gave me 2 days of 38.5,which is nothing.The back pain it gave me however,way NOT nothing. I had to lie on the living room floor-and I dont recommend this because getting that close to the carpet just reminds you that you dont vacuum often enough-and take codrymol while doing the breathing exercises I hadnt needed during labour. After 2 hours,my toes all went numb,I was a little delirious,and so tired afterwards I could barely think. Theres only one thing to do when it looks that bad,reach for a movie...Having found nothing at the cinema we could agree on at our last date,long suffering boyfriend and I headed home to watch a dvd instead. Looking through his vast collection, we agreed on Leon because a,It has violence and action but is NOT about Vietnam *(dont start me on his obsession,I never want to see Full Metal Jacket again,and I like that movie!) b,because although I loved the original,I hadnt seen it for years,and neither of us had seen the directors cut,and c,Jean Reno. OH MY GOD. The ending still makes me cry,but having seen all the 'extra' footage that was cut to keep retarded american bible bashers from freaking out I cried twice as hard. That movie is beautiful. Yes,theres violence,explosions,hitmen,mob guys and a psychotically scary Gary Oldman,but there is also tenderness,depth and two of the most amazing characters I have ever witnessed come to life on the screen. By the end,we dont know much more about them than we do at the beginning,although we do learn,in the DC is how Leon became a hitman,and a little about his emotional past,but we care so much more for them by the end that when he is trying to force her to take the ventillation shaft and get to safety,when she cries and pleads not to leave him it breaks my heart,even though I KNOW how the bloody movie ends! I know there are those who are uncomfortable with the 'paedophillic' subtext,but there is actually no real eroticism,it is more of a tension,low key but kind of humming in the background. Leon,being emotionally immature cannot conceive of preying on Mathilda.Indeed,he rebuffs her every time she tries to make a move on him,although in the deleted scene where she offers her virginity to him and he refuses,he does not refuse because he finds it morally wrong,instead he tells her that he would not be a good lover.His reaction whenhe sees her in the pink dress he buys for her earlier in the movie as an innocent gift is also ambiguous,his soft 'I like it' sounding the way he would tell a lover he approved of something she was wearing,but he makes no attempt to make any advances on her,even when she firmly tells him from that point on they will sleep side by side in the bed.(Leon sleeps fully clothed,and lies flat on his back with only an arm protectively around her-which she arranges herself before rolling over and sleeping facing away from him.The line between parental love and a more sexual form blurs a little,but it is clear Leon would not do anything to Mathilda other than protect her. If they had more of a future,who knows? She will grow eventually,and with constant persistance she could conceivabley wear down his resolve,but we will never know. The goodbye scene kills me. He calls her baby,soothes her as one would a child,but he calls her 'mi amore' and the last 'I love you,Mathilda' is spoken without any obvious interpretation.I think in the end,that sums up the love between the two characters,it is not clearly defined,but it is real,it is something which bonds them deeply,and it is something unlike most other cinematic relationships.There is no clean cut line,but neither is there real perversity,or the suggestion that one character is abusing the other. If anything,Renos portrayal of Leon as a little slow gives Portman scope to be the dominant one in the relationship,which she uses to great effect. I still cant believe that she was the same ago as my daughter when she made that movie. It is mind boggling. Anyhow,Leon has been on repeat play for the last couple of nights while I wait for painkillers and try to keep sane.I am so glad that I rediscovered this film,I get so much more out of it now than when I first watched,especially with the DC,which is the ONLY one worth watching btw,and now Im rediscovering a load of other movies I have loved but since neglected.Wasabi,anyone?!

booby prizes and hammock bras

On another note entirely from my last rant...I finally gave in to relentless nagging (thanks Nanna) and went to get measured for a bra for the first time since puberty. Bear in mind that since then I have given birth,and lost then gained varying degrees of weight,and I was expecting a certain amount of change. I mean,the old 36C was getting a little tight.I went in expecting to walk out with a D cup. Maybe in a 38. Oh no. We didnt even LOOK at D cups. I was marched straight to the E section. Ok. We can deal with being half naked in front of a lady who,bless her,didnt bat an eyelid at the numerous large tattoos,crazy hair and general state of bad dress sense (look,the sesame street t was the only one that was dry,ok?!)We can deal with all this while being in the kind of posh store rich old ladies-and no doubt a few of em even have the title legit-but being told one is 2 big for an E cup?! Jeez. When the shirt came of revealing the full extent of the cleavage straining at the bra,on well manicured eyebrow shot up,and the E cup which had been chosen swiftly returned to the shop floor while I stood half naked in a cubicle wondering what was coming next. (now theres a line...) What came next was the tape measure.Turns out,Im a little thinner than I thought-Im actually a 32.Thats cool. I can live with that. The EE was however,not going to cut it. My cup runneth over.It wasnt a good look-think vegas hooker in unfortunate laundromat mixup...Okay,so out come the big guns (haha) the F cups. Surely,these would do it. Nearly,nearly,turn around madam,oops...still the escaping from maximum security look...Finally,we stop at FF.Yeah. All those years wandering round with barely contained cleavage suddenly made sense.Having paid my travel fees for a month to get out of there wearing something strangely ...comfortable...? I retreated wearing what felt less like undies and more like civil engineering in beige.Yum.Next stop,somewhere that sells stuff in colours that dont match the wallpaper...And that is where the problem started. I thought buying a bra was hard BEFORE,but now,ah wow,its a whole new problem. Check for 32-no probs,as long as you dont have a cup larger than a DD. Check for FF,and try finding something smaller than a 34-you see where Im going with this?! Finally,after much searching,squeezed into a 32F (still more comfortable,embarrassingly enough than what I have been wearing for the last 11 years...) and spent the rest of my 'mad money' for the month on a few items with at least a bit of lace and some silk. Now,I decide while Im here I ought to call Nanna and inform her that Ive finally given in and listened. I called. I got Mum. I told her. I put the phone down when she cut us off because she was laughing so hard. Thanks Ma! In all fairness,she did call back and apologise,she just thought it was so funny that Ive been SO badly wrong all these years and not 'caused an accident with those puppies'. woof. Now,the more pleasant call to the man in my life...'well hon,the bad news is,Im not a 36,Im a 32.' 'Oh'. Pause while he thinks of something sweet to say along the lines of 'well I love you anyway'. Interrupt train of thought with 'but Im a FF'. ' ahhh yeah?!! ' 'My bras now need planning permission.' 'aaahhhh yeahhh...!!! Yup,they may not actually be any bigger now than they were in the other bras,but now theres more of my undies I have apparently made one man at least very happy. Im guessing its like sport to them,the bigger the cup the more points you get in the locker room...?Bless him,at least someones happy-too bad he wont be when he figures out it'll cost him more to buy me undies in future... :)

who educates the educator?

Well,as some people already know,this september marks a fairly large step into the unknown...and no Im NOT talking about Bones season 6...or at least,not JUST about that... I have decided,having been given the equivalent of the booby prize (stop snickering at the back!) in the school lottery that is our LEA,I will withdraw the peanut from school and...TEACH HER MYSELF. There.Ive said it,now please stop laughing.Yes,you. I am aware that I am not a shining example of the education system,but I did escape with ten GCSEs,4 A levels and an AS.(and all but 2 at grades A-C) Therefore,I am fairly sure I can handle key stage 3 english,science,history,music,home ec,PE and the like. After much headscratching and a few bitten nails I have a complete syllabus,6month timetable and a daily lesson plan for the next 2 months so submit to the LEA.Those of you who are smarter-yes,Im aware thats a lot of you,will have noticed there is one subject noticably absent from the above list...thats right,MATHS!!! Arrrgh! All my school nightmares in one small (or not) subject...I loathe maths,find it difficult,and other than its applications for my job,my tax return and science,try and avoid it at all costs. It is no accident I keep a calculator in my pocket at work at ALL times! That said,we are gonna try peanut with kumon classes,and if needs be I will happily pay for her to be tutored properly in that one subject. Now,before everyone tells me how mad/stupid/stupidly mad/irresponsible etc I am,I would like to point out this was not done on a whim.This decision requires a huge amount of upheaval and gives me even less time to do anything about the laughable state of my own education/life than before.However,when you are told the only place in the whole of your town available for your daughter next year is in a school which is a) on the opposite side of town,b)an all girls school (and they think home education restricts their social skills-how many times do you walk around a street with NOTHING BUT FEMALES?! and lastly,whose 'aspirational quotes' from the students consist of 'I wanna be a beautician,innit?'. Well,you sold me right there...It is not intended to be permanent,I am hoping that I will be more successful in finding her a place in year 8,or at the very least before her GCSEs.I appreciate that it is vital she obtains qualifications,as this is what employers in an increasingly competitive job market are still supposedly looking for,and I dont intend this to hamper her future plans. If anything though,the general consensus seems to be that this is an act of suicidal stupidity upon my part,and I will be punished by marginalising my daughter to the extent she will never integrate with her peers or humanity in general.On the contrary,as I said earlier,there is nothing 'natural' about being stuck in pre-selected groups with other girls (no mention of boys,who are obviously not human or 50% of the human race or anything...)being taught something you have very little interest in. True,we all have to suck it up once in awhile and learn the boring stuff,but what if you got a little freedom of choice? You HAVE to learn a language-but you get to pick which one.You NEED to learn to analyse and deconstruct a well known work of literature,how about one you actually WANT to read? And history,is there a period which interests you?Fine,we'll try that one. Even within the strict guidelines,such as science for example,where certain things are compulsory,we can try and make them more interesting and hands on. Carbon cycle from a textbook,or an interractive exibit at a museum or online? I know which one will most likely be remembered...so the next person who politely/not so politely decides to tell me what Im doing is wrong,please consider the above FIRST please,and then by all means tell me Im crazy...but at least I care enough to not just settle for some third rate school just to get my kid out of the house...

knots and cross

Well,I gave in. After taking hours combing them painstakingly out, buying several ridiculously expensive (by my standards) conditioners,brushing,grooming an generally pissing about I have come to the conclusion that my hair was much happier in 'locs.So now Im rockin the hedgehog look (thank you rather diverse bloodline for thick black coarse dry hair)my scalp is singing hallelujah....and the bloody louse letter has just come home from the school...crap! Fortunately,kiddo SEEMS to have escaped thus far,but I put rosemary oil in her conditioner,and bugs dont like that,so heres hoping...poor kids getting used to me hovering over her with a comb and a ruthless expression at the first sign of a scratch!Ive been on a baking bonanza-vegan cupcakes with hello kitty iced onto them (at bloody MIDNIGHT I hasten to add-yet another one of kiddos 'oh mum,I forgot,I need cupcakes for a bake sale by tomorrow,and I kinda told my friends Id do hello kitty' theme...)a huge pound cake for boyfriends birthday (NOT iced with hello kitty!) and flapjacks-cranberry and dark choccy chunks of heaven. Ive also been-in no particular order-jobhunting (easier to hunt dinosaurs than good jobs round here) yoga-ing,music downloading (legally,people,I use iTunes,so dont sue me) and the usual walking,washing,cooking,cleaning etc that makes up the bulk of my days. Ive managed to get freakishly obsessed with the Wire(Bones is on hiatus) and as my entire close family packed up and went on holiday together leaving me sans babysitter,Ive been dropping kiddo at school,going straight back on the train and straight to work,working four hours til 2,and then leaving and going straight back to the school to pick her up and finally taking the train back home. Thats a lot of train time,and a LOT of faith in the rail service to run on time,as one delay anywhere results in being either late for work,school,or picking up Cai. None of these is acceptable.So far,only one (£15!!!) taxi ride needed,and a fair few flat out runs. That said,its great to actually get to pick Cai up from school.Speaking of school,last year kiddo was supposed to take a residential trip costing £160 .The morning of said trip,she threw up everywhere on a packed commuter train to school,and we had to turn round and head for home.(Not easy,as she continued to throw up the whole way.Good job I had a plastic bag.) Now,this year,there is another trip that costs £260.Once again,I forked out,but asked if there was any way the money from the last trip,or even some of it could be used as credit. Nope. Nada. Big fat zip. Thats £160 I will never see again. Now,Im a single mother whos only source of income is my paycheck (retail,part time) and a small tax credit subsidy. No maintenance/benefits/child support etc. Its all me. Therefore,Im a little pissed about losing so much money,but I guess I have to take it on the chin and move on.Overall,the outlook is relatively cool-can (almost) afford the divorce-he wont pay any as he 'doesnt need it' and we are all healthy and going on well. Ive read some great books,listened to some cool music,and gotten a lot of exercise.The whole 'running and walking in shoes designed to feel like barefeet' thing has actually made a real difference to my back too,Ive been wearing 5fingers and a pair of nikefrees I found in oxfam,and my posture is better and I dont have the nagging backache that Ive come to associate with 3 past back injuries.Kudos indeed.

lists of listening

Well the boys have to compile a list of their top ten albums of last year...figured Id give it a go..
1.Alice in Chains-black gives way to blue
2.drew nelson-dusty road to beulah land
3.Pearl jam-backspacer
4.paloma faith-do you want the truth or something beautiful
5.seasick steve-i started out with nothing........

see,Im kinda stuck now,so much of the stuff I like is old!

Earlier,I posted on twitter that the price we pay for being IN the centre of a family is having to BE the centre of a family,to hold everyone together no matter what,and to hold fast.The centre cant crack,because the family will suffer,and the pressure is hard.Sometimes,as I said,it is lonely in the middle,but the reward of being in the centre of a family who love and are loved in return is worth everything. :) And if all it costs is to hold on and keep everyone together,then Ill hang on forever. :)They are worth it.

drugs and deliberation

Because it sounds better than 'mad ramblings of sleep deprived woman with decongestant'
We are all connected,every day,to the ones we love.They never really leave you,either by death or distance,that which you shared with them is always real.So many diferent connections,like invisible webs,spreading out accross the world,anchored to a moment,a thought or an event,or simply to blood or family of another kind.They find their way to the other person,and anchor again there. Sometimes the lines are restrictive,tight and thick as steel- a bond that feels heavy and stifling,yet others are little more than gossimer,connecting through time and space to when the world was both bigger and smaller,and our place in it was childhood certain.So many ways to love and be loved,and even those wires which appear broken can somehow tug all to effectively with a single atom,sending lightening down the connection and bringing the memory home.There are those I love,those I remember fondly,and some connections which are not love or even persistant habit,but merely a quirk of something larger than me.Its all pretty impressive. And very fuckin awesome.Now Im off to pass out and wait for the drugs to work..

revised resolutions

...Cos if youre going to be unrealistic,go the whole hog...
This year I will also: Discover more music-I work in HMV for gods sake,it shouldnt be that hard!
Additionally,Play more Bass...cos I can ;)
and lastly,Be more bloody grateful for what,and who I have,cos in all honesty,my 'family' both blood and chosen,are pretty fuckin awesome.
Heres to a great new year for everyone :) May it bring you love,excitement and change,because nothing stands still,and it would be pretty fuckin boring if it did!