Category Archives: Family

Smoking


I am listening to the Radio whilst I work and they are talking about banning smoking in London’s Parks.  They actually just read my email out, I haven’t emailed a radio station before but felt compelled to do so.

I think this sounds like a great idea, I have two children, I stopped smoking on the 18th of May 2007 and haven’t smoked, or even held a cigarette since. I hope that because my children grow up in a smokeless house hold that they will not smoke.

I see so many people smoking, in their cars whilst their children sit next to them, standing by their front doors with a fag in hand, pushing a buggy whilst a cancer stick hangs out their mouths! URGH it makes me feel sick!!!  My sister is one of these smokers. I worry that my niece will follow in her smoking footsteps. That she will have to spend a few days in hospital with my sister when she is in her 20’s or 30’s, whilst my Sister who will, like my Father be in her 60’s dying of COPD or some other hideous smoking related disease, just like we had too in April this year. 

I also have a child who puts everything in his mouth, I would hate him to start eating cigarette butts.  I was recently in hospital with him after he chose to eat wild mushrooms, God that was a nightmare, I was covered in more vomit than I knew was humanly possible. I then had a follow up call from the Health Visitor because I had to go to A&E. I wonder if they stick their noses in so much for the children who live with smoking parents? 

There are so many butts on the pavements wherever you walk, as is the bloody chewing gum! Apparently these types of littering is socially acceptable!?!  Most smokers will toss a butt from their car window, or drop it on the floor,  some will also dispose of the plastic wrapping this way too, I wonder if they are responsible for the chewing gum?  Would they also throw a coke can or crisp packet on the floor?

Would it be so bad if the country took more steps to stop people smoking in parks and other public places? Won’t less people smoke if there are less places to smoke?

In other news : – According to a colleague in the office our HR department have agreed that someone can smoke electronic cigarettes at their desks because it is only vapour? I should point out this is hearsay from a smoker who now smokes the Electronic cigarettes as well as normal ones… What is in the vapour, what are the chemicals that people are inhaling? In twenty years time will these be the subject of a “vaping ban” due to some awful chemically caused mouth, throat or lung cancer?

 

Dad


Dad was always just there, it didn’t matter if you were phoning so you could talk at him whilst you were on a boring 2hour motorway drive, or calling for him to pick you up from an obscure location at 2am telling him that you told your friends he would drop them home too. The only time we knew NOT to phone him was first thing in the morning, ever since we were kids it was painstakingly obvious that he HATED mornings. Trying to get two girls ready to leave the house who babbled incessantly, wouldn’t eat breakfast unless there were also pickled onions, who screamed and ran around the house at the sight of a hairbrush because the tangles were too painful, I doubt helped him become a fan. Instead in the morning he was a silent figure that we orbited around, there were occasional grunts, instructions for us to follow and “yes poppet I’m fine, it’s just early.” By the time he came home from work that evening though it was as if we had a different parent, he would tell us about his day and want to know every detail of ours, play in the garden with us setting up targets for our bow and arrows and walking the length and breadth of Kimpton with us on our bikes, until we were old enough to just go an knock for our friends. He told his very bad!! Dad jokes that he would laugh at whilst we rolled our eyes.

He was a font of information, some of it useless but all of it interesting – Did you know that the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland is called the Mad Hatter because Hatter’s would use Mercury during the production of Hats and that it would seep through their fingers and into their blood stream causing brain damage which turned them Mad…? We learnt that nugget on Boxing Day last year. He knew so much about Music, Composers, Writers, Drummers, Guitarists the list is endless. We would be watching tele, listening to the radio or out and about and hear a piece of music, Dad could tell you from the first cord what the song was, when it was written and by whom, if there was a cover or if the piece we were listening to was a cover, at which point we would chime in “Yes Dad, we know, you have this piece of Music”

A real hate of his was poor English Grammar, the incorrect use of Who or Whom, Their or There an unnecessary apostrophe or a missing apostrophe would make his blood boil, a trait that he has passed to me, so much so that last year after an incorrect use of the word “Myself” in a book I was reading made me write a complaint to the publishing house and throw the book in the recycling bin. Dad agreed that was the best thing to do. He said that you cannot, knowing full well that something is broken by the use of bad grammar, pass it on for the local charity shop to sell.

For all of our faults, for being held solely responsible for his hair loss, (something we vehemently deny) for all the early morning chatter that drove him mad, he fiercely loved us both, adored his Grandchildren, was always in our corner and would have done and did do anything he could to make our lives easier for us and put a smile on our faces.

We love you Dad and we will miss you every single day forever…

A small rant rather than a blog!


I can’t believe how quickly the last 8 months have gone, my life seems to be going by at a rate of knots!  I have a confession to make.  I previously posted a blog about my choice to have one child. I still stand by this post in the sense that, how many children you have or wish to have is absolutely nobody bloody else’s business and, all those sticky beaked people who commented on my choice to have one child and how unfair that was (don’t get me started on over population, personal choices etc etc again) can still go to hell. However my Husband and I find ourselves in the final two weeks of our second pregnancy. I finished work yesterday, I already don’t know what to do with myself, I go back to work in December – I work three days a week (well five in reality but three I am actually paid for) and this has also met much disgruntled approval from apparent friends. Staring at me with wide eyed “how can you do that” “you’ll miss your baby” “don’t make decisions now, you don’t know how you’ll feel” these are the same people who also seemed rather dismayed when they found out I was pregnant and said “how amazing, you must be so excited, that’s great news!” And I replied, “we are looking forward to it but, it was rather a shock to find out.”

I would here like to point out that I love being Charlie’s Mum, he is the most amazing thing I have ever done and we have great fun as a family. I know that when this baby arrives in 13days I will feel exactly the same as I do about him, however, I cannot help it if I am not all gooey-eyed, cannot talk about anything else, only ever thinking about the impending arrival, as it would appear most people want me to be.

I am looking forward to the next couple of months, then Birthdays, Christmas, New Years and heading back to work. Yes I could take more time off, however my Husband and I have made choices about what we want to achieve, (we were meant to move house two weeks ago but, pulled out when we started to get mucked about) the schools our children go to and when we want to retire. Yes I am 33yrs old and retirement should seem a long way away but, we know what we want from life and that unfortunately means working hard so we can finish earlier and have even more fun than we’re having at the moment and, it is fun, we are fortunate to have lots of time together as a family, see our friends, go on holiday and at this moment in time save some money in the process.

My point of this Rant as opposed to a Blog is to say that, although my choices and way of working may not suit all the people in my life, that doesn’t actually matter and, although I love and respect you all and, listen to your normally concern laced disapproving opinions, we are going to continue on with our plan. If in the end we are wrong, (as I think I may have said before) you can all scream “we told you so” until then though get back in your box please.

Update by numbers


I haven’t blogged now for what seems like forever.

Update on life so far :- December was unbelievably busy, all over the country with work, working for the first time ever on my birthday,  husband’s birthday, my mother’s birthday,  6x Christmas drinks parties (the ones I made!), 3x Kids parties, Xmas eve drinks at our house, followed swiftly by Xmas eve drinks at my friends parents.

One Mother in law and 12 other guests for Xmas day, more toys unwrapped by a 4yr old than I ever thought possible, Father Chtistma got me a stocking and a boat load of stuff too, I knew I was good…. Six of us on Boxing Day, then one very poorly child and husband.

NYE cancelled due to illlness so, bottle of wine and TV bed at 12! Child not back to school till the 9th so additional entertainment, trip on the Thames, south bank, zoo, numerous play dates..

Back to school. Back to work, new starters, new targets, travelling again North and South, 4.5 hours in motorway jam, 3 hours in Snow Jam, 2hrs on delayed train.

One date for Tonsillectamy set, typically now have sore throat.

7x Birthday Parties so far for Jan, 4 of which were last weekend, family staying with us this weekend.

Viewing houses 4 seen so far, 3 tomorrow and 5 next weekend…

more kids parties to come, my Dads 60 (something) Birthday, trip to Brighton next weekend, one baby born this week, first nice or nephew due in approx one week then two more friends babies to follow…..

Planning a 5yr old’s Star Wars Birthday and trying not to scream…… 

I think that’s everything 🙂 have missed you while I have been away.

Answers on a postcard please.


My son starts school a week on Monday. I am missing the gene that means I should cry when I drop him off, I am too excited to be sad. What I am having issues with is whether or not to work full time.

My work is based 86miles from my house, I commute on a Monday and commute back on a Tuesday late night, arriving home at 10:30pm or later each week. I then work from home or London on a Wednesday. Reading between the lines from discussions with my management, I need to work full time to progress or I risk being left behind. How do I do that? Do I put my son to bed on a Sunday night, leave at 6am Monday and return 10:30pm on a Thursday night to then work from home on a Friday? Can mine and my son’s relationship sustain that break 48 weeks of the year? Can you never  pick up your child from school, not attend parent teacher meetings, not attend morning assembly’s, not help with homework?

Could my marriage sustain that break 48 weeks of the year?

For our financial security and financial future, working full time could mean the mortgage is paid off sooner, the pension fund is healthier and we could retire sooner, but is it worth the sacrifice, especially if I don’t have someone to retire with? Or is the key to happy loving relationships quality time not quantity time?

How do I fit in the OU study I have been thinking I will have the time  to do since January? Who will do the food shopping, the cleaning, the washing, the ironing, the vets visits, Drs or Dentists visits, who will remeber to make the beds, ensure that the tooth fairy visits on time….. Is more money worth that?

Someone said “your son is at school, you have to now think about you” is work though really thinking about “me” or is it me keeping someone else happy?

I don’t know the answer, I have been dancing with myself to this particular tune for a fortnight now, the music stops at the end of the month.

Answers on a postcard please…

I’m outside


I feel like I’m standing with my nose pressed up against the window hoping that I see myself and let me in. Only deep down I don’t think I do want to go  in. When did life get so complicated?

I remember when my sister and I were about 8 and 10 respectively, she would ride her custard yellow bike and I my bubblegum pink Raleigh racer to the corner shop, our 50 pence pieces burning holes in our pockets (that’s a telling on how old I am if it was only 50 pence in my pocket) on our way to get 100 penny sweets (that’s right younger readers, you could get 2 x penny sweets for 1p)

My life now is a pressure cooker of angst, grief and shared inner turmoil. Uncertainty lurking like an aneurism silently waiting to unleash its destruction.

I don’t know what to do.

I’m standing at the window banging my fists and screaming warnings but no-one inside can hear me.  I think I see me but, when I come to the window I draw the curtains and I’m left standing in the dark thinking, how did I not hear or see me? I walk round the entire building but there isn’t a door in sight, all I can see are windows where no-one in side knows I’m out here. Will I ever find the door? If I do, can I go in, do I want to go in?

The obsession with Number 2


Why is One child not enough? It’s plenty for me. I love our family dynamic of Three but, it would appear, friends, family, neighbours, the local shop keeper, and relative strangers are practically appalled by our decision to only have ONE perfect, loving, smart and beautiful child.

Is there really so little going on in other people’s lives that they feel they have the right to barge in on mine? ?

“It’s not fair that he is on his own, it’s not fair he doesn’t have a sibling, it’s not right that we are not giving him a bigger family, you’ll regret that you won’t have another baby, you need to give your husband a daughter.”

The friend with no relevant qualifications who appointed themselves as my psychoanalyst explained that, because we were trying for another baby and it didn’t happen (2010 – 2011) I have incorrectly convinced myself that I do not want another one, however, if I actually sit back and have a good look into my life I will see that I do so badly want a baby. WTF!!!!!!!!!!

So here goes for all of you that are have embarrassed me, angered me and tried to make me feel bad about my decision in front of others.

It is not fair that I take all my love and time away from my ONE child. (Before you start I have heard the argument about how the new one fits in your heart, my argument is not about space)

It is not fair that I have to re-think my ONE child’s school and whole academic future if I have number TWO, (the beauty of ONE is affordability)

It is not fair that our THREE person close loving family dynamic will change.

It is not fair that I have to give up my career and then have our family worry about money, (yes I know about maternity leave, and you go back to work in the end, however you haven’t done it once within my career already)

It is not fair that you ridicule my choices in front of others. I am not a child; I am capable of making a decision. I do not want or need your pity, your puppy dog eyed looks when you invade my privacy with personal questions and get an answer you weren’t expecting and do not like. My decision does not come from a sad, depressing place. It comes from the fact that I happen to be lucky enough to be wonderfully happy. I have a beautiful son, an amazing (although sometimes rather annoying) husband who loves me more than I could ever imagine and whom I love equally as much. A job that I enjoy and am good at, a close family (there are loads of us) and thankfully no need to scrimp and save, due to the decisions we have made.

Come back to me in 10 years’ time when I am finally in my 40s and, if I have been unlucky enough to think I may have made a mistake, it still will not be too late to have another child, adopt a child, foster a child or turn around to look at you all in the eye and let you scream “WE TOLD YOU SO”

For the time being though if Baby Police could call off the dog’s I would appreciate it…

A memory


I must have been about 11 years old when my Great Grandpa died. I remember going to the hospital to see him, we weren’t going to the funeral that had already been decided. I remember standing with my sister watching from the nurses station. We were eventually allowed to see him, we walked through this huge ward, bed after bed after bed. I don’t think he spoke to us or even really knew who we were.  We stood with our hands in our pockets at the end of his bed. He looked cold, his feet were a mottled blue & purple colour,  wrinkly and old, he had dry skin over the soles of his feet. I don’t know why they weren’t under the covers.

He had been in the First World War and the Second, he escaped from a prisoner of War Camp or something, he had a red plait of hair in a memory box, it was his wifes. He missed her, I think he was looking forward to seeing her.

His toenails were so long, why hadn’t anyone cut them? I think I held his hand.

We used to sit on his knee when we were younger, he would scare us by taking his teeth out. He always looked smart, always in brown, like my Grandad (his son) he has also gone. I really cried at his funeral.

It’s funny isn’t it what can spark a memory. My son just lost a grandfather. I covered his feet.

Husband


You never really do know what goes on behind closed doors do you, you think that you know someone and you realise that actually you didn’t know them at all. My husband is happily married. I tell him that everyday when he wakes up and before he goes to sleep “remember you’re happily married” I chide… It’s a little giggle that we have with each other, well, that I have whilst he rolls his eyes reading the cheque stubs for the joint account, or is fixing something else I have broken. What though would I do if he wasn’t happily married?

I was brought up to be independent, work hard, earn good money and always look after yourself. When I lived on my own and in London I fixed fuses, sorted out my car, filled it with anti-freeze changed a tyre and even a spark plug, did all DIY jobs or phoned Daddy and begged him to do it. It wasn’t until I met my husband 9 years ago and he moved in after 6 months that I seemed to forget how to do everything and, succumbed to the role of damsel in distress, who couldn’t possibly do any DIY or any other male related domestic occupation.

I have once in a tantrum said “FINE! If you won’t do the blinds now I will.” He came up to our room ½ and hour later, to find me with a hacksaw ruining all the blinds as I tried to cut them to size. Needless to say he wasn’t happy and then took over. “Well I mused, if you hadn’t made me do them in the first place this wouldn’t have happened”

A close friend of mine is going through a “rough patch.” That’s a massive understatement it looks as though everything is about to come to an end. They were a couple that I always thought were happy. They had fab holidays, lovely children, great social media pictures projected to the outside world, the family kitchen was extended and everyone had lots and lots of fun. How wrong we were to think that everything was okay.

I can honestly say if my husband left me (firstly I would castrate him – which I think is pretty standard women scorn behaviour) I would easily manage to change the light bulbs, (pay someone) fix the plugs, (pay someone) change the tyres, (pay someone) and valet the car (pay someone). I wouldn’t however be able to manage with the huge gaping hole that would be let in my heart, the empty space at the breakfast and dinner table, the bed that would now be too big for me to sleep or the look on my sons face, when he is dropped home after a weekend with his Daddy.

My husband is my best friend, my soul mate, the only person that can make me laugh so much I spew my drink from my mouth all over him, the bed and the carpet, the only person (other than my mother) who holds my hair back for me when I have had too much to drink, whilst berating me at the same time, I hasten to add.

So I dedicate this to him – I love you with all my heart, and the only way you are leaving this marriage is in a box… How you end up in that box is up to you xxx

My Sister


Katie is turning into my best friend. It hasn’t always been this way, we had always been a little like the titans in our clashing of heads. Our parents divorced when we were very young and unlike most children of divorce we lived with our father. Due to the relationships we both had with our mother and father, we have always taken a side and pitted against each other in defence of our parents. We fought like cat and dog when we were children, rubbing each other up the wrong way (normally on purpose) awful words, slaps, punches, pinches, scratches, hair pulling, launching objects at each other – Covent Garden General Stores triangular candles, books, cassette tapes and a (Casio I think) digital alarm clock.

We also had huge amounts of fun together, smoking in alleyways, walking the dogs in the forest, setting fire to things in the garden, trashing our house during parties, standing up to bullies in the playground and comforting each other during our parents rows generally looking out for each other.

Although we would still have horrendous rows right up until our 20s, due to one of us being capitalist (or champagne socialist as a friend put it today) and the other an anarchist who is mellowing in old age. This all changed when Charlie was born, the earth beneath our relationship seemed to take a 180degree shift. She spoils him rotten with her capitalist gains on birthdays and at Christmas; they have their own special relationship. My son takes it upon himself at 3yrs old to be in-charge of table planning at every family meal, and when she is there neither Rob nor I nor anyone for that matter is allowed to sit with him it MUST be Auntie Katie.

All the crap that seemed so important before that caused all our rows has some how vanished now. We haven’t had a row in what seems like forever. We may never fully see eye to eye, we could not be more different even if we tried in to many ways to list, I’m settled down with family and obligations and she’s totally free to do as she pleases.

I love having a Sister someone who I can have a horrible row with and we never say sorry, safe in the knowledge next time we speak it will be like nothing happened. There is no-one I can trust more than my Sister, She’s kept every single one of my secrets, and I have always kept hers, and I am the only one that gets to pinch her and call her names when I feel like it too bonus!!