Not the best parent

Dont tell Xss about this post, but sometimes i am not always right. Sometime his parenting is better than mine. Often in fact.

This evening i was going out to my sewing course and they hadn't finished their dinner. I kissed them goodbye at the table and walked down the hall to put on my shoes. Xss allowed them both to get down from the table and come down to the front door where it was cold. Cookie had barely any clothes on (its a stage) and neither had eaten their veg. I was obviously against this idea.

As they came, wearing matching PJ's they had just located in the Christmas boxes, they begun making noises like walrus'. The walked in a line, and they found it very funny. three members of my family wearing the same clothes, walking in a line making walrus noises and laughing.

I am not always right. I did not agree with this joyous moment happening, but it has created a memory i will never forget.

Before dinner shots.

Hero

Cookie is getting too big for her boots, so we are going to get someone to fill them in May.

(incase this is unclear - we are having another baby... in May, Hooray)

letting the 'side' down

The other day as i was driving down my street and a team of men was hard at work sweeping the dead autumnal leaves away. It looked like hard physical work and annoying too as they had to get the piles of them out from between each parked car.

After i had passed them i thought about how it would have been nice to show them how much i appreciated their hard work, and i happened to have a card in my bag containing £80 (buying a pushchair off of someone), that would make about a tenner tip each. Ah well. If the opportunity presents itself again then i'll definitely do it.

Side note- i hate that only certain roles in society are suggested as tip-able and think it should be open to all. However if you are the only one doing this then the 30p you give the newsagent for the pint of milk and off the cuff joke, or the £1 you  give the receptionist at the local children's centre seems to take on a level of financial scrutiny that makes it almost negative. I think this can be over come by always giving chocolate instead. I have still not managed to give the bus driver a chocolate bar tip yet, for the reasons listed below....

So half a day later and i drove back to my house, and the same group of men was nearing the end of the road, and the same card was now on my dashboard, so did i give them a tip? No. big fat no. And i feel like i let 'the side' down. Why did i not just hastily rip open the card, wind down the window and give it to the nearest worker, shouting 'thank you!' as i drove off never to be seen again. The main emotion i felt when i saw them again and realised the moment was upon me was embarrassment. Is it embarrassing to say thank you? to show appreciation for another person doing a good job which benefits me??? why did i not stop. Goffman talks about having a private (real?) self and a public self, and that we all put on an act in front of others. Would giving this tip have laid me bare too much, would i have been giving away too much of my private self to these unknown men? who knows. Yet again i left the situation vowing to act on my gut (or in my opinion God's lead) NEXT time. But despite my uncomfortable guilty feelings, i almost definitely know i wont.

Cookie is TWOOOOOOO

For over a month now Cookie has been stuck on repeat. Every 30 seconds or so she says, 'I two' and holds up a crumbled handful of fingers to signify her passing years, she'd follow it up with 'Mummy make cake, rainbow cake'. She ate none of the stupid rainbow cake (have you every tried to get hundreds and thousands on the sides of a cake at 10:30 at night?)! Im not cross though because she has also stopped saying it.

 

Cookie contemplating which candle to eat first

 

We had a little birthday party with 6 of her 'friends' and played pass the parcel and pin the nose on the hedgehog. She was well happy with blowing the candles out on the cake.

Denying Jo

Last week on my lunch break i saw a familiar face, not one easy to place, but nonetheless comfortable. Thankfully he felt the same and as we passed each other we slowed our pace, committed to unhesitantly staring at each other and as we passed i commited to stop and just stare. Luckily i got his name that same second. Michael!

As we shock hands he labelled me, as if reafirming me to himself, 'your princess' friend'. Yeah. well yeah, but i actually knew him through Lovely, a colleagueal St. Mungo's hostel worker.  But i didnt say this. And now im wondering why.

Was it because it was easier to fit in with his labelling system than to bring up suicide? Was it because it was irrelivant because he's an aquaintance and i'll never see him again, or was it because i was embaressed that he might have felt i was Princess's friend and not Lovely's because i didnt attend her funneral or make any public appearances at her death events. Did i feel the need to defend myself, to put in my excuses as to why i was unwilling to make my grief public, or my 1 week old baby. Was it because in explaining why i wasnt at the funneral i would have been unable to stop myself from making it explicit to myself, more than him, that one of my best friends killed herself a few days before my daughter was due to arrive on the planet, and the embaressement and shame i feel that she didnt want to meet her.

I've never said that in those words before.

I feel ashamed that i denied Lovely, that i didnt harshly decreee that she was my friend. My good friend, my wonderful, funny, full-of-thought friend, who liked Kinkie and Blondie, danced around handbags and cooked terrible vegetarian food.

I wish i had of done. Later on i wondered what his view of her suicide was. Did he think her ill? out of her mind? or more lucid than she had been in years.I'd like to try and find him again to ask, but he works in a hostel for homeless women so the advertising of the address will be negative.

In someways i feel bad for harping on, on here about this same subject again. But then i realise that i havent actually harped on about it enough, and until i am unembaressed, not angry and less confused it's going to be hard to progress.

P.S i've finshed my dissertaion so now i am free to open a computer guilt free! oooo lucky you! more suicide moanings!

Missing me

hi. So it turns out that i am not rubbish at blogging because i was studying for a degree, i am actually just rubbish at sitting down to blog. Which is odd as i really enjoy it.

I've been not doing anything, which feels terrible. I've been oppressively tired since finishing my course and so most evenings i lay down on the sofa after i've got the kids to bed, watch TV and then get up and go to bed. I normally like to feel like im moving forward in the world/my life, which i dont think i am, unless my heightened awareness of the Nashville plot line will stand me in good sted for something in the future.

I continue to struggle to run my day to day life. Here is a list of things which make me feel like i have not coped well with this week:
1) twice when i stopped by our local shop for a few things i had to buy a 5p carrier bag because i didnt have a bag on me.
2) i've been in the local shop about twice a day for the last 7 days
3) We had pizza and wedges for lunch on Saturday and Kebab and chips from the takeaway for tea
4) I've opened a box of chocolate i bought for a bereaved mate and eaten half of them before i managed to get the computer out to blog
5) Cookie spent the day with toothpaste all over her sleeves where she 'washed her hands' with it this morning, leading to a complete change of clothes for Starbucks the bystander also - just as we were supposed to be going out the house
6) Still not spoken to Xss about the fact i signed up to work for a homeless shelter on new years eve and does he mind? We do live together but it feels silly to clog up the time we have with a list of borning questions about life.
7) cooked an inedible meal, which i served anyway. Starbucks said it was nice and asked for more. The rest went in the bin.
8) Have failed to buy a new coat, which i vow to do each year. The one i have smells like Body Odor and im not sure if i even care anymore; i dont think i need any new friends. Not when i am wearing a warm coat anyways.

Sucessess':
1) my whole family is still breathing
2) Starbucks is going to sing a song in the school talent show. It is by no means a talent but i am so chuffed that she is confident enough to stand up infront of her school and sing alone, badly. haha.
3) I have enjoyed some chocolate and its tasted NICE
4) Cookie had a two hour nap yesterday and today, whilst i might not have been able to sit down during them both, it was blissful to have some time off and not try to decifer what she is saying all the time. Today as we entered a local nursery to leave a message for Lumi she was saying 'ice lolly' over and over again. It took Starbucks pointing this out to me, for me to realise that i did understand but didnt get why this setting, on a cold day, had induced her to say it.
5) Starbucks took in two items from home for the 'sound shelf' this week one for 'K' and one for 'C'.

Ok so the nay's outweigh the yay's but some weeks/years are like that. Stuff it, we are all still breathing and God loves us. Have a good week.

Occupying a place in society

School.

This is a negative word in our house at the moment.

Starbucks has started school. I am not happy.

By starting school the whole equilibrium in our family has been altered. Starbucks has been given a status we have never allowed her to have, citizen. Up until this moment she has been supressed by us to a role within our family only.

This newly aquired status means:
1) It is her (school terms) that decide when the whole family can go on holiday
2) how long Cookie can nap for - everyday at 3pm we will be at the school collecting her sister whether she has had her 2 hours or not
3) Whether Cookie gets to play with her toys first thing or not, she'll be hurried out into the rain or snow to take her sister
4) how long we can explore and play for each day. It'll terminate immediately when the alarm for school pick up goes

She also gets to get supressed in her new role
-matching uniforms with the other kids, sure i get group identitiies, anti-bullying stances etc, but now its MY kid, and she's FOUR years old, im quesioning why she cant remain an individual for longer? Why cant she have a different colour hairband which we already have in our house and she's worn always. What are the social norms which made up what are 'school shoes' and what are 'black trainers'? Why does every know that school shoes might rub your feet, be uncomfortbale and need breaking in but then chose to inflict them upon every single child in our nation in the formative years of growing feet. As soon as these shoes verge on comfortable they are deemed not school shoes by definition. SHE'S FOUR.
- no personalised learning. They all learn the same. She can already write all her letters and cut things out (hey thats a skill that still features on my CV!) but if thats what they are all learning, she'll do it too.

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING!?!

 Do these boots look uncomfortable enough?

Can she take her favourite statue with her?

I do realise that if we look specifically at Starbucks, she is going to love school, she's going to gain from the education and she's going to establish herself as teacher's pet and swell her self esteem. But all this can wait until she's 6 too.

Mostly my selfish side comes out. I like her company, i like playing with her on my days off, i like chilling with her, and i like the freedom to explore London with her all day if i want. I dont want to lose her for the next 14 years to indoctrination of her into society.....

Things I've learnt about Latvia

Ive found time to write my blog because I refuse to study on holiday and we've come to Latvia. It's not a summer beach holiday in Greece but I figured the kids would neve let me sunbathe any ways so I might as well check out a new style of culture. Its not very Russian here. I'm not sure what I was expecting but the houses are not all made out of wood. The women are not all overly busty blondes and they don't all pass time playing dominos whilst shooting vodka or driving fast cars. Racism aside its not very different from any other European city. Well, apart the following discoveries.

1) Latvians don't smile very much, in fact they don't use their body language, facial expressions or hand gestures any where as much as we do. They appear relatively stoic, but this could be untrue, it could be that I miss these added emphasises because they are cultural and I'm not looking out for the one they offer. It's decidedly noticeable to us though when a small toddling child stops, grins and shouts 'ello' with a mechanical wave whilst getting in the way that people gamely even step around her, let alone respond.
3) children here are identical to those at home. They still wake up earlier than their parents want them to , they love eating snacks and hate eating meals (even if they are the same food), and often declare, 'I NEVER get to....' When u say no to doing the same thing four times in a row.
4) In Riga they love a museum, these are some of them. The sun museum (interesting that the sun is everywhere but no one else has a museum on it) the museum of ancient Baltic Jewelry, museum of Romans Suta and Aleksandra Belcova (to be fair they could be awesome Rock stars ?), there are many more.
5) they don't move their heads to eat ice cream. True. We must be a very gravitationally aware country, risk averse to any drips. Here they blissfully lick aware turning their ice creams willynilly to greet their tounges. Oh the decedent risk!
6) another risk they enjoy is the 'tram dash', this involves darting out abut 12 ft into a busy road to get on the tram which has stopped in the middle of the street. I think the fun of this would wear pretty thin, pretty quickly.

Since I have turned my phone off (wonderful) I can't upload photos on to here until I get home and put the proper camera shots on here. Due to the dominance of photos of my offspring on my Instagram feed I've been challenged to take more photos of other stuff. I pretty much fail, but it's bought to my awareness the primitive divide in my mind which is the beauty of my children vrs the second rate beauty of everything else. Nature is still beautiful but it's not a patch on the joy a photo of something I grew (????) running over grass laughing, 100% happy in the moment.

Getting old

You know you are getting old when you dry your hands under a handdryer and all your skin moves away from the air current. 

Starbucks is 4!!

Starbucks is 4. As i personally feel strongly about collating evidence to prove to my kids i love them for when they start shouting at me otherwise as teenagers, i made her a cake and took pictures. This year she wanted a 'Topsy and Tim Cake' which means the same as the one they had on their show. Since they are twins and therefore are denied an indiviudal status they shared a cake with one half butterflies and one half dinosaurs (guess which side was which gender?). Here she is looking a little underwhelmed. To be fair blowing out candles is a serious job, and Happy Birthday is a very boring song.

Dear Jo....

How long will i love you? As long as the stars are above you.

It's been 17 months and i am taking hesitant steps to recognising my grief. (I think in pictures:)

I have a huge rectangular hole cut out of my sheet metal torso.
You can see through me where the hole is.
It was severed in a matter of minutes by a very large circular saw.
It hurt so much i was numbed by the pain.
I picture you climbing over the banisters, noose in hand.
I picture you calm, and at peace in your actions.
Balancing on the wrong side, silent with  fingers sweating in concentration.

how long will i love you? longer, if i can.

People say all sorts of cliche's, like time is a great healer.
But its only now that i realise that there's a gaping great hole in me.
One that i am unable to tell if it is mending or still as big as ever because i am so numb.
I long for the day i can tentatively gentle feel around the sharp jagged edges of this wound.
To hurt myself a new, feeling the hundreds of smaller details of this terrible void.
Defining the edges
Raking into the nothingness to quantify it.
Only once i have a wound can i become accustomed to it.

Only once i can define this can i move forward.

How long will i love you? forever.