Bitchy Blogday!

Cor, blimey! This blog is now, officially, one year old.

And now for the boring, introspective, self-absorbed, wtf-does-she-think-she-is? bollocks.

I've never managed to keep a diary as long before so do forgive me if I'm a little bit proud of an achievement that I know is truly trivial when viewed on a national / global / universal scale.

In fact, to save you the effort of handing me my arse with a perspective tatooed on it, my pride soon bumps into into my ever-present self-flagellation and a not-so-little voice booms through a loudhailer 'yeah, but would you have kept it up if it hadn't been for a few people commenting and making you feel obligated to? Wouldya, bitch? Eh? EH?'

Today - in the midst of a space-craving, stress-releasing cleaning frenzy that involved my aiming damp bathtowels at the stairwell ceiling cobwebs I simply can't reach with a fully extended Henry and me on full 5'2" tiptoe at the top of the flight - I stronged up and told the voice to 'fuck the fuck off, fuckily - with extra fuck! 'So what that it took outside recognition for me to continue spilling me innings?' I snapped, 'I still fucking did it!' *

And y'know what? That I did, that I'll continue to do, and that I'm pretty damn bloody pleased about. Not only because I get my silly, daft ramblings heard by more than just my pet houseplant but, more importantly -

I get to meet some of the most loveliest, warm, real people I've ever known . (*insert warm fuzzies here*)

I get to help some of them. Throughout this year I've been asked about subjects as many and various as abuse survival, single parenting sons, blog templates, blow jobs, sports bras for the, er, more well-upholstered woman and eco-friendly disposal of dead vibrators. I always answered with the words I give to any worthy person then clung hard to the hope that my experiences would save someone else from making my mistakes even if, deep down, I hadn't really taken those words on board for myself.

I get to introduce a much loved and trusted real-life friend of mine to blogging and watch her positively blossom, firstly via the freedom of expression she's been denied so long and then beyond, through the open validation she deservedly earns for her emotional honesty.

I get to converse with people that, for whatever personal, social or geographical reasons, I'd never otherwise have struck up conversation with, whether in a pub, a workplace or a psychotherapists waiting room.

I get to see just how different things are and how much has happened and it makes me grateful for where I am right now and who I'm with.




*Ok, to be honest, there was a protracted debate with the voice after that about whether the motivation for action really mattered so long as the objective was achieved. The argument ended with the voice declaring 'Hitler probably said the same thing, bitch!', thus I won by virtue of Godwins Law. In your face, voice!

How d'ya like me now?

Busy, busy, busy. Mostly in a good way.

I reckon I'll have time to draw breath around tuesday or wednesday but in the meantime, this week is my one year blogday so I thought I'd celebrate by designing me a new template.

Whad'ya think?

Edit:

Grr. I've just noticed some things I'm very not happy with. Link colours, the lack of a post separator and suchlike. Feel free to throw constructive criticism at me while I'm still twiddling around with things.

PMS (Poxy Mental Synapses)

Ick. My mind is all over the place of late and this post will no doubt reflect the lack of a mental A-Z, let alone sat-nav in my psyche so be warned, dear reader, and take care lest this madness is contagious.

Babygirl is settled into BIG SCHOOL and loving it. Me? I'm still having problems, not least of which is trying to explain to her just why Babyboy doesn't even so much as acknowledge her presence in the cafe without using the terms aspergers or autistic spectrum as, apparently, they l a b e l and, as such, l i m i t him but, other than that, and to paraphrase a famous book, she's ok so I'm teaching myself to be.

That said, this week I'm not only my standard can't-get-my-words-out but also manic pre-menstrual, as well as trying to fight off the ever present dark cloud of depression that loiters with great big bastard menaces whenever life appears to be moving in a good direction. Hence my feeling that if my precious Babygirl throws just one more pre-teen female strop over the tiniest threat of ten minutes detention just because an exercise book isn't covered in sticky-back plastic without a single crease I may just have to ask Drs McCann to write one of their (allegedly) special prescriptions.

Did that sound harsh? Ah bollocks, why am I even asking - of course it did! In my defence, what pisses me off most about this is that it tells me she just doesn't know, on her most basic levels, that I will meet and beat anyone that dares make her feel so threatened over such trivial bollockness. Does that mean that she hasn't heard anything I've told her about my protecting her? It certainly feels like it to me and by jingo it stings my soul. More than iodine on a fresh wound or a paper cut dipped in lemon juice does it sting. All I ever wanted, needed, my children to know is that I absolutely will protect them from harm whilst simultaneously encouraging them to be the best they can be in the world, use sunscreen and not drop litter. Times like this make me feel all these years of putting the work in have been in vain.



ION - Bing and I remain quite sickeningly happy together. He's arranged his work to spend more time here (such are the benefits of contracting and remote working) which not only means I get to be in his arms and in awe of his fantastic intelligence more often but things like teacher training clashing with my needing to be at college simply aren't a problem.

We talk just as much as each other about anything and everything and, as fellow geminis, understand the weird, flitty way both our minds work. Oh, and when he's not here I get flowers (yes - again!)

I know it's a sad soppy cliche but it really does feel like we've found our other halves.

If Carlsberg made boyfriends...

They'd have a geeks techy brain wrapped in a rugby player's body.

They'd send fancy flowers from interflora and plain packages from lovehoney.

They'd separate your portion before adding chilli peppers to the dinner they cooked for everyone. And serve your sauce on the side if it's the least bit hot or spicy, just in case.

They'd defuse your tension over who paid for the ingredients at the checkout by loudly exclaiming 'ooh, it's our first argument!' then kissing you into silence.

They'd turn a stroll round the countryside into a 'joys of rugby' lesson for the kids and a 'conquer your fear of very large horses' episode for you.

They'd bring you a usb stick, ostensibly because buying two was an irresistible bargain but also because it's something handy that you'd not buy for yourself. And, prior to giving it to you, they'd pre-load it with all their fabulously NSFW writings.

They'd do measuring and carrying large bits of wood round DIY stores, waving away your foot-stomping protests of independence with 'honey, just because you can doesn't mean you have to do it yourself all the time'.

They'd organise things in their job to work from home then drive three hours so they can work from your home and be with you, even though it's a madhouse and not entirely conducive to concentration or conference calls.

They'd veto sex on sunday nights and drive to work at stupid am the next morning just so they can cuddle you to sleep, making absolutely clear to you that although it's very, very good, it's not all about the sex.

They'd read your blog and immediately say 'why didn't you tell me, ya daft mare!? You and the kids call me anything you're comfortable with. Babe, I've had a decade in the military, there's no name I ain't heard yet and nothing you can do, think or say that will shock me'

They'd be called Bing.

I'd be I am a lucky, lucky bitch.

(Tell me why) I don't like memes

< .protest >

I'm only doing this cos I like your spunk, BG! And just because I like to chuck wobblies and be different I'm adding two more P's - Past and Present. So there. Ooh, I'm tough!

< /.protest >

Passion -
Past - Non-existent
Present - Non-stop

Purpose -
Past - Emotional support of women and sexual gratification of men
Present - Emotional support of my children and soulful gratification of myself

Pursuit -
Past - Happiness of all others, hopefully leading to security of myself.
Present - Security of myself, definitely leading to happiness of myself and chosen others.

Position -
Past - Overly responsible victim, bottom of food chain
Present - Reasonably responsible survivor, top of my game

Pummelling -
Past - Mental, emotional, depressing and mind destroying
Present - Physical, sexual, uplifting and body owning

Progress -
Past - Externally and arbitrarily measured. Could do better (C minus)
Present - Internally and objectively measured. Working to best of ability (A minus)

Personality -
Past - Compliant, often apologetic
Present - Complaining, often apoplectic


I'm too old to play tag so if anyone wants to pick this up then feel free to do so and let me know. I won't point and laugh.

Much.

Do you hear what I hear?

08:45 BST, Tuesday 4th September, 2007.

Stop what you're doing and just listen...

Women all over the country will let out a deep, satisfied sigh then light a cigarette or click the kettle on. Local variations may include quiet tears or cries of 'oh, yes!'.




School is back in session.