All too often

It's days like today, that make me feel like a failure!

evening

the light lessons,
minutes tick by,
silence plays it part,
peace is allowed to enter,
it slips, slithers it's way through my humble abode,
resting a while at my daughter's door,
calming quiet settles slowly,
sleep is around the corner,
dreams follow readily,
idle or otherwise.

After...

We had a visitor overnight!

Christmas Eve......before

In the hope of perpetuating the myth for a little longer, my child and I put a little something out for Father Christmas.

The trouble is, is that our flat only has one fireplace and it's VERY small.
So my child, being the bright little thing that she is, suggested putting the milk and cookie's (homemade) under the big velux skylight in the kitchen.
Perhaps Santa can fit through that instead.

A glance over my shoulder

2009 has turned out to be an amazing year for me.
That's not to say that it hasn't had it's ups and downs, but overall, it has been one of the best for many years.
And so, with respect to that, I felt that a "things I am grateful for" post was in order.
To start with, I am grateful to be dancing again. Last year, on the 3rd Tuesday of January I began going to Ceroc and loved it. A couple of weeks later, I started doing the Friday class too. This became my new drug of choice. It encapsulated all the elements that I required at that time to feel rounded as a person. It is social dancing and I have made many friends. I have learned a skill, that can be improved upon with practice. It is physical exercise as I am moving for almost 3 hours a night, twice a week. It is my mental therapy because I am able to lose myself in the movement and music. But mostly, it has given me a sense of belonging again. I have become a part of the community of Ceroc with a feeling of welcome.
I am also grateful to Ceroc for having reinstilled a level of confidence about myself that I haven't felt in many years.
One of my ongoing battles has been with my weight, most of which I gained while living in the States. Dancing as often as I have, the weight has slowly gone, allowing me to lose 14lbs in 11 months, leaving me feeling ok about my body.
I think I mentioned my health in an earlier post, but to recap, I had pneumonia 3 times in 18 months with the last bout finishing just before Christmas 2008. I changed my eating habits and started dancing and this is what I think has kept me healthy for the last year. I shall keep on this track for at least another year as I want a healthy 2 year cycle, free of pneumonia. So watch this space.
I also started a very demanding Access course in September, with a view to doing a 3 year degree next year. I have sent in my university applications and hope to have some interviews lined up within the next month or so. This is all part of my plan to be self-sufficient and independant and to be able to support myself and my daughter, so I am grateful to have gotten this far.
Finally, I think I'd like to start talking about the people that are in my life that I am grateful for of which there are probably too many too mention, so here are the key ones.
Nicola, my dear friend, who quite literally bends over backwards for me. Her love and support shows no boundaries or restrictions.
Moving back to London, has allowed my daughter to grow up close to her grandmother and for me to 5 minutes from my mum, a wonderful, nurturing support.
Without the enduring friendship of Sos, I would never have made it this far. Her encouragement was the impetus that got me back on track.
I am grateful to have one of my siblings nearby and for my child to have her Uncle, who is a hunkle (clarice bean) to romp around with.
While on the subject of hunks, I am most happy with the man that I met through dancing (Ceroc has a lot to answer for). He makes me smile, laugh and feel beautiful.
And to end this endless list of gratefulness, I would just like to add that the person that I am most grateful to have in my life, for without her, it wouldn't be worth much, is my stunning, precocious, affectionate little girl, she gives me an adorable reason to get out of bed every morning.

The inevitable return of 'Super Shouty Mummy'!

I'm sitting here feeling a bit pathetic.
All is calm and quiet now, but less than an hour ago, I was a screaming banshee!
In fact, my throat feels quite sore from it's excessive use.
It has been a long day and I'd handed in an assignment that I was less than pleased with.
It was my final day of college until the new year.
That in itself should have made this evening a happy one, but I'm tired.
Actually, I'm quite possibly exhausted, having burnt my candle at both ends now for many weeks.
What I should do after Child has gone to bed, is have my bath and have an early night.
Not so sure what an early night is?
But what I will probably do is sit and watch bad telly, with a glass of something chilled.
Child was being obnoxiously rude to me earlier, as well as doing feet stomping.
The downstairs neighbours must think that I have a herd of not-so-little elephants up here.
Determined to not 'hear' me, Child carried on, dancing, singing, saying 'NO', calling me stupid and silly and even managed to throw in an 'old'!!
Buttons got pushed and I was helpless to do anything about it, except pick her up and deposit her in her room, followed quickly by a flying pile of dirty clothes/pyjamas.
I was shouting, she was shouting, crying and hitting me.
Finally, I went into the kitchen to breath.
I could hear her sobbing.
It makes me want to sob too. I find it hard not to cry at times like this.
I hate being like this.
I hate her not listening, after many attempts to ask her to get ready for supper.
I hate her rudeness.
But mostly I hate that I let it all get to me and that I don't have the strength or good character to let it pass, to turn the other cheek and put it down to her being only 6.
Sometimes I feel like such a crappy mummy.

My father

Yesterday was a cold day.
Cool and crisp with a sharp sun emitting small warmth.
Shards of light filtered their way to the ground.
Piercing dead leaves en route.
The Horn Beam had grown.
New heights were in reach.
The thickening trunk now held firm.
Each leaf containing a memory.

14/12/09

Reflective thought

One of the classes that I'm taking has us 'reflecting' back on situations and today was no different.
My sister was visiting last week.
This was the first time that I'd been able to book a Friday night with her, normally she makes other plans. But last Friday, I took her dancing.
I made sure we arrived in time for the beginner's class, so that she'd have some basic knowledge of what kind of dancing I do. When we were 16, she had learned how to do 50's Jive, something that really didn't interest me, so I assumed that she'd pick this up quickly.
Part of the way through the beginner freestyle, DC arrived. I introduced them.
I was happy to have her see what had become such an important part of my life, my dancing and to meet DC.
What I didn't see and what he observed, was how my sister suddenly became very dominant and how I stood back and let her.
DC and I talked about this on Tuesday and I told him that I didn't feel the need to be dominant. This was my comfort place, with people I liked, doing what I liked. I was sharing with her. I didn't feel threatened by her presence, in fact I welcomed it. I wanted her to see how well I was doing, show her my dancing, let her participate in it.
I felt that I had reached another level in our 'twin-ness', that we were progressing.
Hurrah!

The odd thing about today, was that Dragon Lady more or less described exactly this scenario with regards to what was happening within my class. I was not just reflecting back, I was also seeing a reflection.

Betwixt

Twenty-one days solo, no conversation.
The thought of never again moving as one, leaves a deep penetrating sadness.
Huge sighs of breath come often.
Stomach churns, working out it's knots, while the heart beats to it's own rhythm, waiting for a return.

October 2009

Juggling a balance

One of the things that we, as a class, are being asked to do, is keep a reflective diary.
And so, after checking with my tutor about it, I decided to keep this blog as my journal.
Not sure how often I've mentioned this, but in September, I became a full-time student, again.
I'm doing an Access course, which has been designed for mature students and people who have been out of education for some time and bring them back up to speed, in order for them to go on to do a degree.
This is me.
It's perfect for me.
Except that there is homework.
**Cringe**
One of my major challenges has been to juggle homework, housework, Child's homework, Child's school run, my school run, Child's after school activities and my two solitary nights out. Gone are the lovely morning yoga sessions or my weekly Alexander Technique class. Now it's three days of 'out by 7.40am and back by 5.15pm' and two days of 'out by 8.30am and back by 5.30pm'. It's only for one year and then hopefully I'll be going to a Uni much closer to me, but OMG, this is knackering me. I am not willing to give up my two nights of dancing, as I don't have college on either following morning, but I am tired by Saturday. Sunday morning will find me in bed with a coffee and Child on the couch watching breakfast telly.
I'm eating well and have been healthy for the last twelve months, so obviously something within the changes that I made a year ago, has worked.
Looking back on the last three months, I think that I have been able to reach a balance, fulfilling all the different aspects of my current life. But I do worry about my Child, about her ability to keep up with everything that she has to do and whether its too much to ask of her.
I only hope that we can manage to maintain this pace until the end of the school year without collapsing in a heap of exhaustion.
Roll on the summer hols!!!

3 in 1

I'm a big watcher of people and have spent many a day sitting at my favourite cafe in Paris, simply sipping and gazing.
And being on a bus is no different.
Well it's a little different, not so chic and it was in London and NOT Paris.
But you get the picture.
The main thing is that I was given an opportunity to observe some not-so nice traits amongst the people of London.
I should have called this post: The Rudeness of Strangers (might change it later)
No. 1
I got on a bus last Tuesday to go to my normal evening dance class. It was a fairly empty bus except for a girl in her late teens, sitting in the middle of the back seat. She had a sullen look on her face and was holding her mobile phone. And from said phone, she had blaring the latest dance music. It was loud.
I turned around and asked her politely to turn it down, which she did, briefly for all of ONE minute. Then the volume went back up and was even louder.
I turned, again to look pointed at her.
She had a dead-pan expression and ignored me.
I looked back at her with an air of disgust and moved to a seat nearer the front of the bus.
When it was almost her stop, she walked to the door, waited and increased her volume even more.
The doors opened and she got off.
Joy!
Peace at last.

No.2
I take buses everyday, so I see a lot of odd people.
This time it was a girl.
Everything about her was normal for a late teen early 20-something.
Except she had no sense of her surroundings.
She was on her mobile.
Conversing with a friend in an incredibly loud and animated voice.
Totally unaware of anyone else sitting on the bus.
A complete lack of consideration.

No.3
It was late on a Tuesday night and I was on my way home.
Relieved that another bus had come along so quickly, as I'd just missed the one before.
About 15 minutes from home, we picked up what I can only assume to be the contents of the earlier bus. Tons of people.
At the next stop, a very disgruntled man got on.
The earlier bus had gone straight past him without stopping.
It was a cold, damp night and he wasn't happy.
He was cursing, saying that if he saw the last bus driver again, he'd rip him a new one!!
If he'd stopped to think about it a bit more, he'd have realised that the bus was empty for a reason, which is why it hadn't stopped for him.

I don't normally do a post with multiple parts to it, but these 3 bits had all occurred on good old London buses.
It did give me cause to reflect.
People present themselves in a very definitely light, that is all down to their attitude.
The first girl could have had head phones, or just managed a small apology.
The second should have looked around and realised that we were all sharing in the details of her story.
While the man could have relayed his frustration simply by telling his tale with a smile.
It's all in the attitude.

A Local Sight

And what would a 'local' sight be?
It's a.........wait for it...............................comb-over!
Yes, you heard me correctly.
This afternoon, I took a brief and brisk walk up to the shops.
And en route, I happened to glance over to my left, just in time to see a rather doddery octogenarian smoothing down his wind-swept hair.
From my direction, I could see a perfect parting of hair that began just behind his left ear and worked it's way towards the back. To me this was an extreme comb-over.
But to cap it all off, there was a marked difference in colour between the comb-over and the rest of the hair.
Yes, his piece d'resistance was his bad dye job.
Now this wasn't something that you saw everyday in North London.
(Another thing that I'm thankful for)

Unexpected...

Last week, on Tuesday to be precise, I was invited to Thanksgiving.
To set the scene, last week was one of the maddest weeks that I've had to date, in a long time.
I had two assignments due.
One was a 5 minute speaking presentation on Thursday and the other was a multi-faceted, 2 part 2000 word essay, with references and bibliography for Friday.
Plus I had normal work, normal chores and normal running around after child's busy social life.
Having made the decision to go to Thanksgiving, I suddenly realised that I needed to 'bring' something. I couldn't go empty handed.
Quickly, what should I do?
Why...make biscuits of course.
And that's what I did, a quick, batch of fresh chocolate chip biscuits.
Now to the problem of what to wear???
That was the easy part, black tuxedo trousers, patent mary-janes, sparkly black top, fitted wool jacket, long cashmere coat (also black), pale pink pashmina scarf and big silver ring.
Slightly over-dressed but that was remedied by throwing my black turtle neck jumper on, mainly to keep me warm. It was a freezing night, not good for the walk from the bus stop to their house.

But Thanksgiving was wonderful and I soon warmed up. The hostess is a new friend, an American who married a Londoner. She and her family welcomed me into their home, along with 5 other friends. It was such an interesting group of people. A journalist, a research doctor, a social worker, an architect, a top hair stylist and me........a newbie student. The conversation was, for the most part, riveting and the food divine.
Sitting there, it occurred to me that I had a lot to be thankful for.
I've been healthy for almost a year.
I've started dancing again.
I'm on a path to a new career.
My child is happy and well, except for a stinking cough.
I have a plethora of amazing friends.
And I've met a lovely man.
I am where I want to be at this moment in time.
This was my first Thanksgiving since my divorce.
And for all of the above, I am truly thankful.

Not on the schedule

This begs the question, what is NOT on the schedule?
What have I missed out?
What more could I possibly squeeze into my very tight calendar?

Well the answer to the above questions is.............TIME!!
I trying my very hardest to remember what that is.
Not sure at the moment.

I seem to remember hearing a distant rumour that there is something called 'spare time'.
I'm wondering what exactly that is.
Is there a definition for 'spare time'?
Oh where is my dictionary?
Ahh, as defined by The Oxford Dictionary of Current English, 'Spare Time' is a noun, meaning leisure. What a novel idea!
Further down the page, I came across the word "sparse" meaning thinly dispersed or scattered.
Now that is a bit more appropriate for my version of 'spare time'.

Girls stuff

I'm having one of those 24 hour periods where girlie things need and will happen.
Yes, it's that time of the month, no actually it's every 5 to 6 weeks, when I go and get de-furred.
This morning, I was officially a woolly mammoth and now, well now my legs and bits are as smooth as a baby's bottom........literally.
The other thing that had to be speedily accomplished was a change of toe-nail varnish.
Sounds silly, I know, but I will be donning a pair of sparkly silver sandals tomorrow night when I go dancing and my little 'piggy-wigs' need to look half-way decent.
So last night I removed all the yucky old polish; primped and primed all ten toes ready for tonight.
But not in time for my lunchtime leg wax or indeed breakfast with my child.
"Mummy! Mummy! What happened to your nail polish? It's all GONE!"
Shock, horror...I thought to myself (I'm slightly sarcastic at the best of times).
Crumbs. Even my child has noticed my unfinished bits.
But she is not the only one.
My fabulous friend who takes a lot of pride when waxing, points out this discrepancy almost immediately.
Ok, so I'm not perfect.
But as of 9pm this evening, my toes look absolutely amazing!!

Feeling like a complete idiot - TWICE!!

Well the title of this post says it all really.

I seem to have definitely lost more than a few marbles between yesterday and today.
To start with, after my child had finally stripped down and hopped in the bath, I began to gather up the detritus that amounted to a variety of scattered clothes. Sorting out what needed washing and what could be recycled, I turned and walked into the kitchen, dropping the dirty clothes into the dustbin.
Quickly I reclaimed the clothes, chuckling to myself before putting them into the washing basket.
And then it was my turn to get into the bath. It was only when I began to take my denim skirt off, that I realised I'd been wearing it back to front ALL day. That meant that I'd walked around the neighbourhood, gone to the cinema, had lunch with friends, taken Child to the swimming pool and done my homework, all with my skirt on the wrong way.
How foolish do I feel right now???

Strictly Come Skyping!!!

Oh my gosh!
I have just had the most hilarious conversation on Skype with Dear Friend (DF).
After almost an hour of talking about other stuff, we end up talking about dancing (my passion).
She does West Coast Swing (WCS), a fairly sensual, smooth dance, and I do Ceroc, much faster with other different dance influences.
We started discussing how manly and sexy (or NOT) our respective men were on the dance floor.
But it took a personalised, visual demonstration by her of her man to have me in hysterical laughter.
To say that my sides hurt and cheeks ache from chuckling so much, is an understatement.
She was lamenting that she didn't find her man sexy when he strutted his stuff and she followed that with the most hilarious, comedic version of him moving the way that she wanted him too.
She said that she wanted to scream at him to be "more manly!!!"
And with that she did a pelvic thrust and grabbed her crotch.
(Very MJ-esque).
My man on the other hand can dance, both manly and sexy.
I feel very lucky.

A Royal Visit of sorts....

One of my favourite galleries in London is the Royal Academy.

I love that you can be walking down one of the busiest streets in the heart of the West End one minute and then passing through an impressive archway into a relatively quiet and sedate courtyard the next.
Only on this particular morning, there was nothing sedate about this courtyard.
Standing majestically in the centre, was a 30 foot tree made of extra large, highly reflective silver baubles, very reminiscent of Chicago's Millennium Bean, (I'm partial to Tiffany's Elsa Peritti's Bean series of jewellry) and so love this sculpture.
Anish Kapoor, the artist, is known for creating incredible striking sculptures that promote visual interaction and discussion from it's audience. His works range from the small to the absolutely massive, as seen in the Turbine Hall at the Tate Modern in 2002/2003.
Over the years, I have become a huge (excuse the pun) fan of the vastness of his art and the deapth of saturation of the colour used. He has ingenuity within his ideas, along with a touch of humour.
My friend and I turned the corner and we were both entranced by the sight that met our eyes. This stimulating sight convinced us that we were now the world's greatest iPhone photographers...........NOT! But what fun we had.
Without giving too much away, there were moments when we jumped out of our skin and moments where we giggled like schoolgirls. In between, we sat quite simply in awe.
I highly recommend seeing this exhibition for so many reasons on so many levels.

Seize the day

Last week, first thing in the morning, I was sitting in the LRC (Learning Resource Centre) or using the old-fashioned name, the library, when I suddenly heard a thump and a thud.
I turned around to see a young man shuddering on the floor.
He was making strange, whimpering sounds.
He was in the throws of a seizure.
Lying on his side, he was convulsing.
His body twisted with tension.
There was a look of anguish in his eyes.
Both of us felt helpless.
I because there was nothing that I could do to help.
He because he knew that he simply had to let this fit pass.
Small bits of foam began to appear from his mouth.
The library staff took control and asked everyone to leave.
To give this poor lad some privacy.
The medics arrived as I was leaving.
Helping him up as he slowly relaxed and they were able to take him to a quieter, less exposed area, making him more comfortable.
It must be so difficult having such a condition, not knowing when or where it's going to effect you.

five people you meet in heaven....

Just for a change, I thought I'd try my hand at writing a book review of something that I read not so long ago.
Let me know what you think.....

Book Review
“five people you meet in heaven” by Mitch Albom

I was originally drawn to this book after having read Mitch Albom’s first novel, Tuesdays with Morrie. This was biographical, about his relationship with his old university professor who suffered from Lou Gehrig’s disease but felt like fiction when reading it. So I was curious to see how his second book fared next to his first and would it be as compelling. I was not disappointed. I was, however, surprised at the style of writing, which was very easy to digest. Then there is the content; the title gives away the location of the setting. It is a simple story about the death and life of Eddie the maintenance man. After dying in a freak accident on his 83rd birthday, Eddie finds himself in heaven where he encounters five people whose lives, to greater or lesser degree, he influences at various times throughout his own.

It was his personal journey, just for Eddie, but it gave me an insight into a potentially different Heaven from the more traditional or religious one that most of us have grown up with. Five individuals were given to every new person that arrived in Heaven. When Eddie met these people, he learned one lesson from each and, in turn, discovered the meaning and purpose in his life.

The first paragraph of the first chapter really spoke to me. It set up the structure of how the story would read. The author told us that this story would start with Eddie’s demise; an ending was to be seen as a new beginning, a poignant thought that could resonate with many people. It showed us a non-traditional view of Heaven. It explores the possibility that everyone’s Heaven is unique to them. Eddie’s Heaven was the old amusement park, Ruby Pier, a place that featured heavily through his entire life.

The five people that Eddie meets are The Blue Man, or Joseph Corvelzchik, a "freak" in Ruby Pier's old freak show. He began life in the carnival after taking too much silver nitrate for medicinal reasons, which turned him blue. The Captain, his commanding officer during World War 2, actually saved his life by shooting him in the leg. Ruby the old woman and the namesake of Ruby Pier, was once a beautiful waitress who fell in love with a wealthy businessman. Marguerite was his wife and although the marriage wasn’t perfect, she was the love of his life. Finally there is Tala, the young Filipino girl. Eddie never actually meets Tala, but was in the vicinity when she was killed. What I found interesting was how completely different all of these people were. There were random chance crossings of five paths, some of which intersected for mere moments. I felt that the author developed all the characters just the right amount so that I, as the reader, was able to empathise with their situations. Each of these five characters now played the part of Eddie’s guide, leading him through the different stages of Heaven.

I felt a sense of relief at the end of the book that Eddie was able to resolve his personal regrets or mysteries and to then be able to pass through all the levels of Heaven. I am now left wondering who will be my five people and what will be my own particular Heaven.

The Blue Man taught Eddie that "there are no random acts; we are all connected."

Local residents

Every year my college is descended upon by a gaggle of Canadian geese. And it is not a small gaggle either. The college has a couple of small ponds and lots of grassy areas that seem to attract these loud birds.

I have even seen them outside the gates, crossing the busy road, using the zebra crossing.
It is hilarious.
But life at this college wouldn't be the same without them.
So.....bien venue!
Quack! Quack!

Last night

Last night, after dancing for 3 hours, I drove a friend home as she'd just split up with her boyfriend. She needed cheering up, so I went in with her for a chat. We stood in her kitchen eating Ben & Jerry's Phish Food with a dollop of Nutella on it. Giggling at what we were doing.
I think that did the trick. Nothing like a sugar high to put a smile on your face!!!!

Independence Day!

Life is not fair.
This is something that my father used to say on a regular basis to us children.
A few days ago, my ex rang to talk with Child and as the conversation progressed, he started talking about the future. He mentioned Disney. I took the phone and asked him what he was talking about.
"Oh I want to come over and visit as I haven't been for a couple of years (more like 3 but whose counting). I want to see Child's school and I thought I'd take Child on a cruise and let Mickey take care of the other 2."
"Is this part of your official 'time' with Child or as well as?" (Fair question I thought).
"Don't start this again, I get 'X' amount of time. We went through all this last year. This will be as well as." All this was said in a slightly raised, exasperated and sarcastic voice.
My heckles were raised and I felt a bit panicky. He talks as if he has me over a barrel.
I stopped the conversation and gave the phone back to Child.
I was not going to get into this discussion with Child sitting right there.
But it left me with a strange taste in my mouth.
I rang my dear friend and left a message reiterating all this.
She rang back and asked why I wasn't excited by the prospect of having time off, after all, I am full time mum, I get the occasional night to myself but most of the time it is 24/7. She questioned whether I wasn't slightly envious of the fact that he could spend money and take her away, do something fun with her.
Having received this message, I sat there for a while and reflected.
You know what?
I think she was right.
I do wish that I could afford to take Child on holidays to new places, instead any spare cash I have goes on tickets to take her to see her dad (legally obligated!).
I think one of the things that bothered me about all this, is that didn't ring to ask about any plans that might already be in place. His are always demands and not requests. I would like him to be more courteous, unfortunately I think its too late for this leopard to change it's spots.
But I am also pissed off with him for not being more forth coming about paying for every day things for Child, like swimming lessons.
So yes, spending lots of cash on a frivolous holiday does slightly upset me.
And I hate that it always comes down to money, he has it and I don't.
But I have Child, who enriches my life more than he will ever know.
I long for the day that I can take whatever money he gives me for my Child, stick it into a savings account and not actually NEED it.
Independence, that's my goal.

One liner!!

Struggling with her puzzle, my child suddenly says in a rather grown-up and exasperated voice, "mummy, this is making me go round the houses!"

Brainless or something like it!

That's me.
I'm brainless.
Over the last few days I've had 2 definite affirmations that my brain is severely lacking in power.
Can't think why I'm so ditsy at the moment, couldn't possibly have anything to do with juggling Child, my school, 2 part-time jobs, chores, homework, evening classes and a very small social life, could it????
My babysitters are going to a fireworks display next Friday, this clashes with one of my dance classes.
Panic!!!
Oh no....who can help me out?
Quickly text various friends with children for a sleepover, text my brother, text a friend without a child (who is amazing and helps me).
I'm begging for a babysitter (very happy to admit it).
Finally I ring my mum.
Panic over.....mum is already having Child as they're going off to a morning chamber music concert.
Phew! What a relief.
Now, I just need to send a mass text letting everyone know that "it's going to be alright on the night". (Sorry couldn't resist).
And then today mum picked up Child and took her off to an interactive children's concert after lunch with the promise to get her to her swimming lesson on time.
I get down to the pool with 5 minutes to spare, don't like being late for my mother.
They arrive on time, we rush in to change and get to pool side, to see it filled with a variety of people, but not Child's class. No sign of the teacher.
Crap! I had misread her schedule and got the half term week muddled.
Mum had already gone home, so it was back on the bus for us.
What a dizzy idiot I am!
My brain capacity has shrunk to the size of a pea.
However am I going to manage my homework tonight???

The Chinese Laundry

Yes, you've guessed it.
I have moved from my lovely, cosy flat to a Chinese Laundry, at least that is what it feels like at the end of today.
Three loads of laundry, all expertly done, sheets, towels and a colourful wash.
All done separately and NOT together.
Feeling quite chuffed with myself for having accomplished the minimum of chores over half-term and also managing to do homework and keep Child occupied, I didn't think about the logistics of 3 very large loads of wet fabric that needed drying.
I had run out of space to hang it all and had to run downstairs to my amazing neighbours to borrow a drying rack.
My flat now has this ever-present dewy misty feel to it, humid but not quite tropical.
Shame, no palm trees or sandy beach.
One can but dream, eh?
Oh well, only another 48 hours until this laundrette becomes a home again.

And no you can't drop off a load or two and expect to pick it up at 5pm, washed, dried, ironed and folded.

All that will cost you double!!!

A Witch and her Familiar.....

Ooohhhh......spooky!!!

London lament :-(

Yes, I'm having a brief grumble about my chosen place of habitat....

London.
Or rather London Transport.
I grew up on the Misery Line, that's the Northern Line to you foreigners.
But I loved it.
I never felt let down by the tube.
It started early and finished late, sometimes later.
As for buses, what could be better then a slow ride across London Town, taking in all the sights on the way to work.
And the night buses saved me many a time when I was a 'bit' younger after a night out clubbing.
We, en masse, would make our way down to Trafalgar Square, hoards of the youth of North London, finding our own personal bus home.
I have so many fond memories of wending my way home in the wee hours of the morning, turning the key in the door, creeping in and up to my room, not wanting to wake the parents. Going to bed as the sun is starting to rise and the dawn chorus is beginning to sing, has it's own particular sort of magic.
But last night I felt failed by London's wonderful transport service.
I had to walk along a busy road, round the corner and there is the bus stop. But what is so unfair, is that every time I do this journey, the bus (no matter what time I arrive) goes past the corner just as I'm getting to it.
This was last night's scenario.
Except that I ended up sitting there for a further half an hour, much to my chagrin.
It's amazing the array of different people that went past me at that time of night.
Older couples coming back from the theatre, young gaggles of girls drunk on too much 'whatever', looking barely legal. A father and son, same in profile, both chewing gum.
Finally, along came my bus.
I sat down and closed my eyes, knowing that I had a way to go, my bed getting ever closer.

Autumn in the Woods

With the exception of yesterday morning, the last two days have beautiful.

We managed to spend quite a bit of time outside, rambling through a beautiful woodland.
The colours are amazing, the air was crisp, the sky was blue.
It was perfect for autumn.

On a lighter note...

Friday night was one of those rare occasions when I actually wore a skirt to go dancing.
A friend (and beautiful dancer) is always on at me to wear one, to be more girlie, to get rid of my jeans.
And so I did, just for one night.
It totally changed the way that I danced.
I felt different.
I was reminded of an old song....."I feel pretty, oh so pretty....."
The music was good, along with some excellent and some not-so-excellent partners.
I'm at a low ebb, but I'm still dancing.
After changing to go home, I went to get my coat and bumped into a regular, Mr. P.
You're not leaving yet? I haven't had a dance.
What could I do but throw down my bag and coat and accept the offer.
The music came wafting out to the foyer, it was old school jazz, not too fast.
It felt funny dancing in full light in front of strange people.
It felt like a performance.
But the dance was good and at the end of it, we thanked each other, he went back inside the hall and I went home.
It was a good night.

Blue

I am feeling decidedly like a bitch....most of the time.
I'm not feeling like I'm being a good mummy or even a half-way decent one.
I am definitely NOT over DC.
I feel anxious every time we get homework from Dragon Lady.
Not being a particularly good friend to dear friend who has lovely new man.
Negative, low self-esteem, not very confident and tearful.
I want to shake this murky quagmire that I'm in.
But not sure how?

Not-so-nice-mummy!

There are days when the best part of the day is waking up.
Today is one such day.
So far.
It started off as a lovely, sunny Sunday morning.
Child let me sleep in until 8.15am, in reality that was actually only 7.15am, as I'd forgotten to put the clocks back.
We had lovely snuggles, she had breakfast and then I went back to bed with my coffee and Wednesday's paper, while Child did some drawing with the telly on.
Managed to get a quick call into my auntie and my sister and then that's when the 'nice' part of the day ended.
Admittedly I did have 1 1/2 hours of quality.
But Child has been rubbing her left eye and it's very sore looking. She tries to not rub it with her hand, but then uses a dry tissue or t-shirt sleeve, sort of defeats the purpose of 'not' rubbing it.
I needed to put eye drops in it.
Would she let me?
No.
I kept trying and kept missing.
And she kept giggling.
Was this a game?
No.
Did she want her eye to feel better?
Yes.
Ok, then lie still.
She wriggled more, as I got more frustrated and then became 'shouty' mummy.
Horrible shouty mummy!
It all escalated, I couldn't reign myself in.
I know I'm tired from college, from work, from dancing, from doing too much, from not having a proper break.
I felt like I was in a downward spiral.
Until I stopped and said, enough.
I was going let her make her own choice, while I had a few minutes in my room.
She hates it when I close my door and sees it as rejection, not as me having my own space.
Her tears started and so did mine.
Horrid.
Finally, she lies down, stops moving, stops pushing my hand away and I get one good drop in the afflicted eye.
What a bloody nightmare.
I feel crappy and have a headache creeping in.
Suddenly my phone chirps with a message, a friend will be in the playground with her kids and would we like to meet them there.
Oh hell yes!
Child perks up and as if by magic, everything is all fine and forgotten.
Teeth are quickly cleaned and off we go.
Unfortunately she wants her scooter, to which the answer is no.
So then another round of stamping feet and huffing ensue.
This slowly disappears as we get nearer to the playground.
Once inside she runs off to join her friends and I sit down next to my friend.
Collapsing on her shoulder, tears come again and I ask her if she'll have Child for the afternoon.
Bless her, she says yes.
I'm given time for a reprieve and to retrieve my torn emotions.
Once home, I go into Izzy Stephens mode and start my short-term therapy.
Baking.
And here I am, about to finish the newspaper on my bed with a cup of coffee.
Isn't that where I started the day?

Unbelievable!

Waiting for a bus, an elderly couple walk up.
The man asks for directions and I tell him it is a 10 minute walk "that way".
"Oh no, can't walk it, I'm asthmatic," said he.
So they sat down and waited for the bus.
I turned away from him and another older man had sparked up a ciggy nearby. We were all down-wind from him.
"Excuse me, would you mind moving a little bit that way, please? The man over there is asthmatic."
The second geezer (very apt), looks at me blankly and says in broken English, that he didn't understand.
I turned back to the first old codger and gasp in amazement as he is now sitting there puffing on a roll-up.
How absolutely ridiculous is that???

Mean mummy

Child likes her hot waterbottles.
But tonight it was like pulling teeth to get her to do anything!
Dawdler, procrastinator, both good names for her.
There always seems to be something better to do then the task at hand.
And tonight, enough was enough.
Finally in bed, with a story read, the light went off, lots of kisses and....
"Mummy, can I have a hot water bottle, pleeeeaaase??"
My answer was no, its too late.
As the door was closing, I could hear her little voice say, "mummy, if you do some work tonight, maybe after you finish your work, maybe if you have the time, mummy could you maybe make a hot water bottle, but only if you want to, maybe?"
Oh my gosh, what's a mummy to do, eh?

6 conversation

Driving through a rather affluent part of North London, I found myself bumper to bumper with a divinely gorgeous car.

"Oooooooooooh!" I said to myself between dribbles, forgetting that Child was in the car with me.
"What is it mama?" her little voice broke through into my daydreams.
I had been in a DB9, but this.....this was a DB6.

It was older than me and oh so better preserved.
"It's a DB6, darling".
"Oh, ok."
A few minutes later.
"Mama...what's a DB6?"
Trying not to giggle too much, I managed a response.
"It's a car, a very stunning car," I said, sounding rather pathetic.
"Mama, can we have one?"
"Huh?"
"Mama, when I start working, I'm going to buy us one. A pink one."
"Sweetheart, I don't think they come in pink," like the colour will be the issue that stops us from owning one.

Self reflection

Something I'm learning how to do at college, is to be more self reflective.
I need to start looking inside myself.
But something that keeps coming up in my thoughts is honesty.
The reason I say this is that I've spent most of the last week and a half trying to come to grips with the fact that I am probably not going to hear from DC again.
The words, "I'll ring you" were the last things he said to me and almost 2 weeks later, I still haven't heard from him. I have resisted the urge to call or text him, so hard when all I want to do is confront him.
But he referred to himself as a butterfly and I have to respect that he doesn't want to get squashed.
I sat in my friend's kitchen to day and said realistically, it's better that I be hurt and get over it now, then be hurt and have to get over it in 2 months time.
The trouble is, is that I'm still in denial. I still think we have potential.
I still want to scream at him and say just give it a chance.
But then I have a reality check and realise that if he wanted this, he would have called by now.
I don't want the reality.
I want what I thought we had, even if it wasn't perfect.
I don't want to be alone.
I want someone to share my life.
And I don't understand why I can't have this?

Lost for words...

Relevant to me

As I was reading "On the Pulse of Morning" earlier this evening to my daughter, I had some surprising thoughts run through my mind.
"History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage, need not be lived again."
This sentence has so much depth of meaning for me. It resonates with what I am going through at the moment.
The trouble is, is that if I were to meet DC again, for the first time, I have no doubt that I would be just as attracted.
So how do I resolve this within myself?
As for the poem, I would highly recommend reading it.
Maya Angelou is an amazing writer.

"On the Pulse of Morning"

My gorjus (yes, this week she is) Child has to do a 'home learning' project for Black History Month. So me being me, I decided not to go with the flow. I picked one of my favourite authors, Maya Angelou, and pulled up a poem of hers on the internet.
Yes, good old internet saves the day, again.
I'd never read this poem before, but at first glance, I could see that it had some good imagery that could be used for drawing.
So this afternoon, we sat down at the table and I gave her the suggestion of drawing these words. We used the very first line.
"A Rock, A River, A Tree"
Child wrote this down at the top of a piece of paper, phonetically (always very interesting) and then proceeded to draw a corresponding image.
On the next page, she wrote the very last line, "Good Morning" and did the same thing.
The result of which, were 4 very lovely and individual pictures.
I'm curious to see what her teacher will think of this project.

Bread, wine and tears

Well not the bread, can't eat wheat, but the other two seem to be flowing rather well today.
I'm sorry to keep going on about DC, but I feel at such an impasse with my emotions vs. my brain.
My thoughts seem to preoccupied with him.
I find that I can't shake myself out of this miasma.
I feel so frustrated by what I am feeling.
By what he says when we're together and by what he doesn't say when we're apart.
I know that he has what I need and I have what he wants.
I can support as a girlfriend/partner.
He just has to allow me in, but I don't think he will.
He likened himself to a butterfly and I think he's scared of being hurt.
'We' can work on his baggage together.
He's 100% with me and almost the opposite when not.
I don't know what to do.
I know we're good together.
Unbelievable when in the same space.
I'm just not sure, whatever else happens, that I can handle the 'lack of contact/communication' during the in between times.
And all these questions are difficult.
It's difficult to acknowledge that something isn't working properly.
I don't want to let go.
I want more and deserve more, but I want him to want to give it too.
He said he doesn't want to hurt me, but too late, I've invested emotion into him and my heart is hurting.

What is on offer?

Something a very dear friend said to me the other night on the phone, is "what has he got to offer you?"
I had just spent the evening out with DC (or new-ish man). We talked for 3 hours. We sat on a couch in a pub drinking one drink each, talking. He had been very animated and excited because of the weekend he'd just had and was telling me lots of little anecdotes and funny stories. But we also talked about us. About how we'd become intimate very quickly instead of getting to know each other first. Very early on he'd said that he wasn't sure he could 'give' me what I wanted and he reiterated that same statement. He comes with more baggage then I do. He still has many ties to his ex that need to be resolved and he's worried about hurting me.
This made me think.
My friend also told me "to keep my options open".
The thing is, is that I like this man. Not just how he makes me feel, but what he has to say, how he thinks, his opinions. I find him interesting and funny and very sexy.
Why is it so wrong to want to keep seeing him?
It's only wrong if he doesn't want the same thing.
And so I've given myself and him a time frame to see 'what happens'. The thought of this is making me feel sad, tearful, this isn't what I want. I want him, but it has to be a two-way street.
I know that I deserve someone who wants to give me everything and I don't just mean material things. In fact, I don't mean material things at all. But someone who will be my partner in life.
The potential here is huge, but then so is disappointment of rejection.
My glass is still half full.
And as my Pops used to say, "it ain't over til the fat lady sings!"

I'm finding it hard to read what I've written.
This isn't how I want this relationship to go.
I still feel the potential for amazing and wonderful is still possible.
The butterflies are still resident.

Course update

I can't believe that I've almost finished my 3rd full week of college.
How's it going?
Not really sure.
The BIG surprise is that I'm actually enjoying Maths.
Ok, pick yourselves up off the floor.
I said that I'm liking Maths.
It took me 3 goes to get my Maths exam 20 odd years ago and I hated it back then. But now, it's just like doing puzzles.....at least so far it is.
Unfortunately, the class that I'm finding the hardest is English. It all about the facts. I have to learn how not to write 'purple prose' (thanks Spence) and also be more concise.
Analytical essay writing is another one that I'm not looking forward to doing.
The teachers are doing ok, considering we're such a mixed bunch of people with very mixed abilities.
The Maths teacher is great, JH. Everything very simple and clear.
The English teacher is good, K, but not so good at keeping the class focused.
The Social Work teacher, AU, is also very good, with a fun sense of humour.
But the really interesting one is our Course Tutor. Dragon Lady! This term she is teaching us Interpersonal Skills. We had to do role playing today. She will pin you down with a stare if you're talking in class.
Scary!!
I'm hesitant to say that I'm doing well, mainly because I'm finding it hard to do the homework in the evening and also I'd like a few more guidelines about how much work is expected in terms of length of assignment. Plus I'm frustrated at the lack of having a printer. I spoke with my mum about it this evening and she told me to go buy one at half term. This is last years Christmas/Birthday and next Christmas present. I've been deferring it to be able to get the laptop that I really want.
So watch this space for that update.
But so far, all my homework has been handed in on time AND completed.
One of the things I've been using the most has been a pack of colouring pencils. There have been a few pieces of work requiring LOTS of colour (thanks KR).
I'm still really pleased to be on this course and I think that I made the right choice in going to that particular college, but 4 years is starting to feel like a very, very, very long time.

Inability to...

For some reason, I am full of knots.
I feel completely anxious.
I can't focus on the task at hand, namely homework.
My memory stick doesn't work with my Mac and my printer is not compatible.
I'm being very short with my child, snapping at everything.
I'm tired of telling her to listen all the time, except its not all the time.
I don't feel very compatible with a lot of things right now.
Last night, I watched a good friend collapse on the floor.
He's had quite a few turns over the last few months.
He went white and clammy.
His heart raced.
It was horrible waiting for the ambulance to come.
It felt like hours.
He's only a few years older than me and looks healthy.
But obviously something is seriously wrong.
I felt helpless.
I didn't know how to help him.
I didn't know what position to get him into.
I just sat with him and held his hand, while various other people did what they could.
Another friend went in the ambulance with him.
He's ok-ish today.
But this is such a reality check on so many levels.
Sometimes I feel like I simple cannot get it right.

Big change!

HOMEWORK!!!!!
HOMEWORK!!!!!
and more....
HOMEWORK!!!!

Respect

I think I deserve more.

A giver be I....

A dear friend told me that I'm a 'giver'.
Why did she tell me this?
Lamenting to her that while walking down the street the other day, I found myself feeling guilty.
I felt guilty for having various luxuries around me.
I live more or less, hand to mouth.
I have just enough money for bills.
My child has literally bags of lovely hand-me-down clothes.
We were given a brand new Wii fit our birthdays this year.
Last, I was given a fantastic MP3 player.
Just moved service providers and got a mega phone.
I have a brilliant computer on loan.
I'm walking about in expensive designer jeans, donated by a friend.
My cousin gave me a gorgeous bag.
I walk everywhere and I'm very proficient on public transport.
This list is almost endless and yet I live this fairly frugal life.
I see this picture, two sides of a coin that my conscience doesn't quite know how to marry the two together. Sometimes the 'things' in my life feel out of place, like nothing quite belongs.
My mum turned to me the a couple of days ago and told me how lucky I am, to have what I have and to be amongst such generous people.
My friend told me I'm a 'giver', a person who does for others.
And in doing for others, others think of me when wanting to 'donate' amazing things.
New Man said something to me last night that surprised me.
He said that although he knows many people, he doesn't have a lot of friends. But that I do.
He said that I seem to have a way about me, that draws people in, that makes a person want to align with me.
I feel quite humbled that two of my 'special' people see me in such a graceful light.

New Addiction

I was given my first Mac 4 years ago and an iPod Classic last year for my birthday.
Pandora's box was now officially open.
After an initial frustration with it and not knowing my 'key strokes', I soon fell head over heels in love with it.
I'm not sure that I've ever been so in love with anything that wasn't human and male.....
Over time, I got to know the ins and outs of this beloved beast and treasured my time with it.
Alas, moving slower then molasses, the fateful day came some time last winter, when it decided to give up the ghost and move on to greener (or in it's case, bluer) pastures.
Oh no - disaster!
What was I going to do?
Thankfully my boss stepped in and saved the day.
Being a gadget man, he liked to update everything.
The latest Mac, iPod, iPhone etc.....
So he donated his spare iMac to me, saying that it was mine for as long as I worked with him.
The man is the epitome of generosity.
This new iMac opened up ever more doors of possibilities.
I was madly in love, again.
At least I was until last Friday, when I found myself walking into The Carphone Warehouse and changing my mobile phone contract from Orange (I had been a very loyal customer) to O2.
Why?
Quite simply.....
In a word.....
The iPhone.
Oh my gosh! Let the gushing begin.
This is the creme de la creme of all mobile phones.
It is exactly what my brother said to me, "a sexy phone".
And I will even take an insult from my best friend, who called me a 'bitch' when I told her I had an iPhone now.
I am now almost complete.
Once I have my delicious Macbook, my life will be fulfilled.
Oh joy! What more could I ask for, eh?

Incomplete facts!

Definitely not my fault at all.
Much to my relief and my belief that I am somewhat of a minor whiz on the computer, I discovered that the reason my amazing, all-in-one Dell printer doesn't work with my lovely Mac, is that it is simply not compatible.
I went off to the Dell website to download a driver, this suggestion came from New Man. Couldn't find a driver, so off I went to the Mac website.
And there I found it.
A list of compatible printers for iMacs.
My Dell was not on this list.
I'm scuppered.
This unfortunately means that when I buy my Macbook sometime in the not too distant future, I am also going to have to buy a printer. Could life get anymore expensive?
Now what do I do with a brand new Dell printer?
Anyone want to buy a printer?

Technically challenged!!!

I am so ready to scream.
And I would do just that, except that my child is asleep in the next room.
I am getting so frustrated, that I may be driven to drink.
I used to think that I was fairly savvy with the ins and outs of life with a computer, until I came face to face with installing a printer.
I was a PC girl for many years, using one for daily work, while having one at home to tinker about on the Internet etc.
But then came the day, that Child and I arrived back home in the UK with not much more then a few suitcases and no computer.
Life began again.
Found a flat and settled in.
Friends started donating 'things'.
One of these dear friends, opened up her garage and told me to 'take'.
I came away with an older iMac, tv and various kitchen bits.
The old iMac gave up the ghost earlier this year and thankfully another dear person came to my rescue.
A much new iMac is now sitting in my living room, being used prolifically daily.
Remembering that my mum had bought a new laptop last year, which came with a printer. As she had one already, she donated the new one to me. So I went off into the depths of my cupboard and dug it out.
Got the printer to work independently of the Mac and then it came time to 'Install'.
Sounded so easy.
Maybe in your world it's easy, but not in mine.
I am stumped.
I cannot figure out how to run the software disc or what application to use.
This is something that I should absolutely know what to do, but I don't.
I feel like a complete novice.
HELP!!!!!!!

2nd time around

I've just realised that it has been quite a while since my last post.
The reason for this is probably down to the fact that I've just started a course at college, with a view of doing a degree next September.
It has been almost 20 years since I left university that last time, so this is quite a challenge for me.
At the beginning of the week, I was a nervous wreck.
The induction week loomed ahead.
I woke up Monday morning with horrid butterflies in my tummy.
This was my first day back in full time education and I was unsure of what to expect.
It was the start of a 4 year stint of studying.
Oh gosh....what had I signed up for?
Oh well, here goes....got Child to school on time and then began what could be an hours journey on 2 buses, to college.
Actually it only took 45 minutes, including the waiting time, not too bad really.
And then there I was, waiting in the queue for my student ID. Yes, it's official. I am now a full time student and member of the NUS.
Ok, on to the next task....finding my classroom.
3 flights of stairs later and there I was walking in to a room filled with 22 others.
To say that I am one of the oldest in the class is an understatement. At least 2 thirds of the class are between 19 and 24. Everyone has something unique to contribute to the team, so we shall see how we all get on as time goes by.
Mostly female and 1 poor man.
Hope he survives the year.
It is now Thursday morning and the induction week is over.
My studies will start in earnest on Tuesday. I'll have a 3 day school week, with the other days being Thursday and Friday.
So watch this space and keep your fingers crossed that I don't fall at the first hurdle.

Unfounded uncertainties

Confidence is a funny thing.
One minute you're full of it and the next you're not.
It is something that should be bottled and easily retrievable for those anxious moments when you really need it.
When you say to yourself, "oh...I could use a bit of confidence, now where did I put that bottle?"
Or perhaps it could be bought at your local "SpaceNK" (not sure it's really Boots's price point).
"Excuse me, do you have the latest Eau d'Confidence?"
It's like putting on your favourite jeans with a pair of killer heals, it just adds that little bit of something.
And tonight, I had that except for that silly little bit of uncertainty.
It has been almost 5 weeks, what if he didn't show up tonight?
I forced myself not to watch the door and actually had a great time, in my favourite jeans and sparkly dancing shoes.
And then there he was.
Looking incredible in his suit.
I thanked my dance partner and slowly walked over, forcing myself not to run.
His smile said everything, more than words.
Why did I even worry?

Silently sleeping

There are nights when I go into my child's room, to check on her before I go to bed and I find myself just standing there.
My heart literally swells, it skips that beat as I look down on this small person, who is growing daily. Changing before my eyes.
Her snuffling in her sleep makes me smile. She is totally unaware of my presence.
I am still in awe that she is mine. She came from, yes there was her father, but the miracle that is birth still amazes me, even 6 years after the fact.
She seems so peaceful and calm tucked up in her duvet. Her face peeping out from beneath the covers.
Her skin is so perfectly smooth and soft, that it's hard to imagine her as a spotty teenager (perish the thought!)
Kissing that delicious cheek, I smile as I leave, closing the door gently.
Walking into my room, my quiet sanctuary, I remind myself how lucky, how blessed I am to have this feisty, gorjous girl in my life.

friends and others..

On a completely different note, my child is hilarious.
Yes, I'm sure we all think our children are:
a) Hilariously funny;
b) Incredibly beautiful;
c) Highly intelligent;
etc.....
But seriously, mine is.
At least tonight she was 2 out of the 3.
Sitting around the dinner table, a good family tradition that I uphold with absolutely NO telly on, a conversation was started about friends.
Child started talking about a new girl in her class and who her 'buddies' were. Boys were mentioned.
I took a breath and asked the question, "do you have a boyfriend?"
There is one particular boy who has been 'betrothed' to most of the girls in the class. He's the youngest boy in the class and a bit of a Lothario, at least according to his dad.
So the talk continued about friends.
And I was then asked whether I had a boyfriend.
Oh now how do I answer that one.
Hmm..with that I waffled on about how I have many friends, both boys and girls.
"But mummy..."
Ok, there was no escaping this one.
So I didn't quite tell the truth, instead I asked whether it would be ok for me to have a 'boyfriend' one day.
"Yes of course you can have a boyfriend mummy".
Then I was thrown for a loop.
"You might meet one when you're dancing, mummy. You can ask the boys you dance with, if they like you."
Oh my gosh.......where did that idea come from??
"Ok", I said. "Should I ask all of them?"
"No mummy, just ten at a time".

There you have, seal of approval to move on from none other then my Child.
How great is that!!!!

My gripe for the night!

I think my ex must have actually listened to me last week when I asked him about our Child's school shoes.
Quick reminder: normally he manages to buy her 2 pairs of shoes twice a year, trainers & sandals then trainers & winter boots, plus bare minimum of child support.
So when I got her back after her most recent visit with her dad, all I found was a pair of gorgeous brown suede knee high no arch support boots.
Um, not so good.
After very quick discussion, ending with him saying no I can't afford it and now I've changed jobs, I'm going to have to probably give you less anyway and it will be twice a month instead of all in one lump sum....well I just about gave up.

So as predicted, we went off to good old trustworthy Clarks. They measured her and ordered 2 different pairs of winter boots that I'd found on the website and will text me when they arrive at the shop.
Pleading pity, I rang my mum and asked if she'd help with the cost, of course she said yes.
Well that night, low and behold, the ex rang and said he'd found good winter boots and that he would send them over.
Excuse me for being frustrated but, save the postage and put the money into my account and I'll buy them here.
Talk about being a 'dumdad' (excuse the pun DD).

Guess what? I'm still waiting for the money!!
Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!

Ok....breath and count to ten.......

Decisions

Sometimes you have to stop, step back and look at where you've come from to realize where you now.
It is all about the journey.
I know that I would not be who I was if it weren't for a number of fairly major things that have happened to me in the past.
If I had not gone to the States, I would not have met my ex and I would not have had my beautiful child. Did I want to go to America? No not particularly, but I needed an escape at that time, so I'm glad that I did go.
The flip-side of going through my painful divorce, was that I was able to come home.
Did I want a divorce? No, but again, it has happened and it took time, but I have managed to move on.
My cousin always tells me that things happen for a reason.
I wake up in the mornings and appreciate where I am.
My life is in no way perfect, but for now, I am right where I want to be.
I'm on a path forward.
A path that probably won't be all that easy, but one that could yield a better life, a more sustainable life.
It is a path that I think will lead to a 'sense of self-worth' and an ability to do something more with my life.
At the risk of sounding corny, I hope one day to make a difference.

Out of the mouths of babes!

I'm sitting here watching Justin Lee Collin's - Dancer. I was under the impression that this man was really just a comedian, but oh how wrong I am.
Yes it is a Saturday night and I am watching this.
I admit it.
I almost turned it over to Orlando Bloom in Pirates of The Caribbean, but then Justin's son came on the telly.
OH MY GOSH!
What a cutie.
He is a hilarious little bundle of blondness.
He's probably about 4 and has an interesting way of counting.
Here is his poor dad trying his hardest to practice the Paso Doble in his living room with an audience of one small boy, while also working on his counts of 8.
But his son, Archer, keeps telling him "NO".
"You're always wrong dad."
And then Arch starts counting in a made up language.
When asked what language it was.
His response is that it's from the South Pole, but only in summer, when the sun is shinning and only in the hotel, not at the beach.
Oh what a fantastic imagination.
I wish I had one like that.

Frustration!

Every year, it seems that my ex finds yet another way to give less to our child.

He'll ask me, "what does she need?"
My response twice a year is 2 new pairs of sturdy walking-to-school schools, or swimming lessons.
This year I said shoes, the same as every year, but no clothes as I have literally bags of amazing hand-me-downs for her already.
What did she come home with?
A pair of beautiful, long brown suede boots, not suitable for walking to school in all weather and more clothes.
So no school shoes and no winter boots.
I simply have no words to describe my feeling at this point.
The word, frustrated springs to mind.
When confronted with this problem, his response was "I can't afford to pay for more shoes."
What I should probably do is sell the brand new Wii he sent Child earlier in the summer. It's unopened in it's original box and then buy her some new shoes.
I can see a trip to Clarks happening some time soon in my future.

Sometimes

Monday, 31st August, 2009

Sometimes I crave the close proximity of another human being.
Knowing that there is another person nearby.
Today is one such day.
Thankfully, today is also the day that I get my child back from her father. Knowing this means that I shall soon be receiving lots of cuddles and most likely lots of feathery kisses too.
Perfect.

Uncertainties.........

I'm starting to feel a bit insecure now.

It has been almost 3 weeks since I last saw my new-ish man, DC, and it will be closer to a month when we're both finally back in London.

What if he doesn't like me anymore?

I think about him often but what if it is a one-way street?

I hate 'what if'.

My time here has thankfully gone very quickly.

I'm very much looking forward to being home agian, sleeping in my own bed, being with my daughter.

I miss her.

This has been a long separation.

It has sometimes been hard.

My 'constant' hasn't been with me.

A Creative Road.....

Walking around the Art Institute, seeing so many familiar things.

Paintings that may have been a part of a traveling exhibit or simply Nighthawks.
I am sitting in front of a painting by Frederick Childe Hassam called Une Averse - rue Bonaparte.
I recognised the street immediately.
For my first visit to Paris when I was 16, my mum and I stayed on Rue Madame, it is around the corner from Rue Bonaparte.
But for me my favourite part of Rue Bonaparte is where it meets Blvd. St. Germain.
It's where Aux Deux Magots is and I have spent many an hour with a Citron Presse, whiling away a spring afternoon, people watching.
Oh joy!

Not here, there....

My Child is currently in Iowa and not Illinois.

I had assumed that my ex would tell me if he were taking Child anywhere.

He claims he sent an email, which I did not receive.

Do emails go astray in this day and age?

When Child told me her location, I had to ask her to repeat it.

I didn't believe what she'd said.

I felt panicked.

Separation anxieties.

She's not in the same city as me.

What if I need her or she needs me?

I know, she has her father with her.

She's ok.

But what about me?

And as my friend pointed out to me, do I tell him every time I leave London?

The answer is yes, especially when we do an overnight.

Maybe I'm not 100%, but we're usually only an hour or two away from home at the most, while he's at least an 8 hour flight.

But here, we're in the same country, no planes required, just a car.

I wonder where his email went?

He said there was more info in it and that he would resend it.

I'm now wondering if he's going to tell me, via email, that they are moving to Iowa.

That's where his wife's family is. Child #2 is on it's way, so maybe she wants to move home to be near her parents. Who knows?

That would then present an interesting situation.

Where would we meet for the 30 days of paternal visitation?

Not in Iowa, that's for sure.

(At least I hope not).

Oh hell......now what?

Jeans Addiction by Osmosis!

No, it's not the latest designer name in high end denim.

It's me admitting and finally succumbing to the addiction so long participated in by two of my dearest friends.

Having never been much of an 'abuser' of anything except my trusty iMac, it came as a big, no HUGE surprise to me, that I could so easily be seduced by the deliciousness of such a wonderful fabric as 'designer' denim.

I spent my youth wearing Levis 501 button down men's jeans, loved them for forever, great memories.....

Then in recent years, partly due to weight gain and lack of funds, I've been buying my denim at Gap, in the sale no less.

I needed new boot cut and straight leg in January, so bought 2 pairs.

I thought to myself, well that will last me a while, at least a year or so.

But NO. That was not to be.

I started dancing and dating, changed my diet and lost 10lbs.

Oh dear, 2 new pairs of jeans bought in April at Gap.

Phew!!

All is good.

End of story??

No, not quite.

Arrived in Chicago for a visit and one of my dear, addicted friends said, 'here I have a couple of jeans for you to try on'.

Citizens of Humanity and AGs.

WOW!!!

I was salivating.

This was almost thrilling.

Dribbling.

A tingle went down my spine.

Heart was palpitating.

Ok, remember to breath.

In for 10 and out for 10.

Quickly removing my 'other' pair, I slip on the first pair of new jeans....COH.

Gosh, what a delight.

A perfect fit.

Then I try the next pair, AGs, a little tight, but that was not going to stop me.

Oh no, I will be strutting around in these babies for a long time to come.

But wait!!!!!!

Yet another pair was to be joyfully donated by addict friend #2, although they originally came to her via addict friend #1.

And who am I to turn down such a generous offering.

So I said yes, to friend #2 and a pair of DoJos by 7 for All Mankind.

They were shorter and so would work well with flat shoes - yippee!!!

Yes, you may call me spoiled or indulged.

But I think that after this visit, I am now well and truly...........

.........addicted to jeans!!!!!!!!!