Monday, July 14

Doing bird

In twelve hours time I'll be sitting on a plane next to Bing, hand in hand on our way to a lovely, adults only*, hotel in Turkey.

Being due to leave at 5pm Monday I of course decided to go out Friday night for dinner and a movie with sis then spent Saturday reading how-to-tile sites, shopping for plastic bags for hand luggage liquids, cleaning everywhere and hiding the contents of my, er, knicker drawer in preparation for ex-husband staying.

Sunday I attended a family christening and tiled my bathroom window recess. The adhesive needs 24 hours to set so the grouting and sealing will be done when I post this then I can cover it with something waterproof and have a lovely shower before leaving for the airport.

And then, I really should start the packing.

* As in no under 14s allowed, not as in hedonism or it's ilk.

Sunday, July 13

*insert punny post title here*

Much as I love them, I just don't have the mental energy to think of a punny or alliterative title. I have also lost the ability to edit so I apologise for the nonsense that is this random, interrupted* stream of consciousness.

I often refer to my mother as an emotional vampire but I've come to realise that it's not just her, it's everyone that isn't me. My second most often thought phrase is 'for fucks sake, no matter how fat I get there's still not enough of me to go round!'. **

Babygirl has always been one of those 'look at me, mum!' kids. Despite, or maybe because of, being hailed a clever, beautiful princess at every given self esteem boosting chance she insists on having full attention whenever she feels the need. She will talk at me for hours on end, the only thing that stops her is my disagreeing with something important like a choice of shoes, or pointing out that her newest best friend is in fact a bit of a lowlife/chav/liar etc. This stops the talking but, as a downside, is guaranteed to bring on the 'oh my God how could you even say that, I'm so offended!' look, closely followed by the storming off and door slamming routine. We have good moments though; shopping for bras, my joy at her pride in becoming a woman, discussing suitable methods of depilation then sharing a tube of Veet for the first time, both of us giggling over how handsome we find David Tennant.

Babyboy is still on school report and, six weeks in to this latest episode, not improving his behaviour one little bit. Once again he was banned from the theme park trip with the rest of the school which kind of backfired as, in his own words, 'what do I have to lose?'. Eye-q came up during a dinner discussion and he mentioned that he'd take it properly this time as he now realised that it was expensive stuff to throw away whilst pretending to take it. We bought a bottle together.

It took four days for him to remember it was in the house and two reminders for him to take the second dose. I could ask him three times a day for twelve weeks whether he's taken it but I know from experience that this only creates conflict. You can't win with aspie types, they need the reminders but resent the provider.

It's not all bad though, when he comes to sit by me on the sofa and asks me to run my nails up and down his arm or through his lovely long, soft hair as we watch something that makes us both laugh out loud I forget that he has so many issues and just relish that, when he does occasionally choose to have physical contact of any sort, it's with me. Part of that me thinks he's just not cut out for formal learning settings. The more pragmatic part of me thinks the world won't change for him and he needs to learn coping strategies, fast. These parts of me bicker in between our golden moments of communication.

No 1 Son has completed his exams, attended his prom and continues to believe his destiny is to have the position of world dictator handed to him on a silver platter even though they don't provide that course at college. I've had to have a word with ex-husband and put a stop to the constant stream of money he provides, gently explaining that this tactic ultimately disempowers young people rather than ensures that they love you the most. Still, No 1 Son is finding his massive man-feet more than ever. Testosterone and know-it-all hormones are positively overflowing from his pores and he's morphed into what I can only term as a bone idle gobshite. One that wants to cycle to Wales and back, live nocturnally, be left alone when he feels like it but have full attention the instant he doesn't. Hard bloody work but again, there are beautiful, uplifting moments of privately shared jokes and reminders of myself and flashes of the boy that still needs his mum to be a mum no matter how bigger or stronger than her he grows to be.

I'm very aware that moments like these need to be relished, stored away in memory and relived during the more common, more testing times. Mostly because I'm convinced these moments are all that stop us being like animals and eating our young at the first opportunity.

* It's currently 1.12am. No 1 Son has just called me from his room, on his mobile, to ask me about a problem with his laptop. There really isn't a single minute of the day I'm not on duty.

** The first is 'leave me alone!'

Wednesday, July 9

Procrastinating pain?

No 1 Son has gone to bed.

Bing has gone to bed.

I'm two hours into a dose of paracetomol plus and a good way down a bottle of brandy.

The instruction leaflet didn't have proper, tested timing for my 800w microwave so I did some quick mental arithmetic and watched closely for signs of explosion.

I carefully carried the pot to where I had laid out a newspaper (bought specially as I read all my news online these days, darling)

Stirring the heated wax carefully with the special spatula that is not only ergonomical but has a section that says No! if the wax is too hot, I take a deep breath, embrace the task in hand (well, in leg actually, but you know what I mean), pull a cigarette from my pack and light it...

at the wrong end.

Is this a sign that I should go back to shaving?

Tuesday, July 8

Lady with a baby!

No, not me. Sudders.

Clare. Lovely, massively pregnant Clare Sudbery, who has a birthday tomorrow.

A birthday that will be overshadowed by her huuuge bump.

If you're feeling lovely please pop over to her and say something birthdayish. She'll love it.

I'm now about to wax my legs for the first time.

I apologise if my screams disturb readers in the north.

Dirty dog

I could start this two ways, so I will.

1 - I really do love my dog, but...

2 - Could've been worse; what if your dog...

I can only finish in one way, however. This being, the way of truth.

Dog saunters through the french doors as No 1 Son and I are watching a skyplussed Last King of Scotland and bickering over who is the true pack leader. Dog walks directly to me and licks my hand. I guffaw towards No 1 Son, relishing my imminent victory.

Dog turns around and arranges all 6 stones of herself to flomp at my feet. I loudly claim myself as pack leader and obvious canine favourite, my proclamations only interrupted as I realise...

...she's left a great big skidmark of shit down my right shin.

Gross - dog
Grosser - dog shit
Grossest - dog shit on human leg

Sunday, July 6


That is all.

Wednesday, July 2

World, shut yer mouth

If you're a reader rather than a watcher (and I can so very understand that) the lyrics are:

Well you know I said I'd love you for all time.
Well sometimes I just can't believe you're mine.
But every now and then
I'm ready to say when
Oh, baby I love you, just leave me the fuck alone.

Well in your arms is where I'll always stay
But something deep inside says not today
Well I'll be sitting here
working on this beer
Oh baby I love you, just leave me the fuck alone.

I try so hard each day
to make things go away
there's nothing left to say for tonight

For a couple of days I won't be coming round
I'm going to go get lost, I think I might skip town
Now I don't mean to pout
but you plain wore me out
Oh baby I love you, just leave me the fuck alone.

Oh, baby I love you, just leave me the fuck alone
I tried dancing, I just want to go home
I know your cooking's great
But dinner will have to wait
Oh, baby I love you, just leave me the fuck alone

Well I'm in a frazzled state
the party will have to wait
Oh, baby I love you, just leave me the fuck alone