50 shades of dozy……

 

 

Today I got to lunchtime before realising I’d been  walking around all day with my dress on inside out.

I’d like to tell you that this was a one off hilarious anecdote.

It was not.

This is my life.

 

 

I really can’t understand it. I like to think I’m a fairly intelligent woman, but for one reason or another my head is permanently in the clouds. It’s been the same all my life so I can’t even blame getting older. When my (3 years younger than me ) sister and I used to go out places she was always the one my mam trusted to look after money or anything important.

 

 

I’ve given up on even getting frustrated with myself now . Pointless .

 

So inspired by today’s dress fiasco I have decided to put together a list of my top 10 dozy related incidents. At least it make you giggle or just be glad you don’t have to put up with me….

 

 

 

10) Losing stuff

Now this isn’t technically one incident but one life long incident. I lose everything, how I’ve never left one of the kids behind somewhere before now is nothing short of a minor miracle. Numerous purses , phones , bags have fallen by the wayside over the years. I once left all our swimming gear on a train. 5 PEOPLE’S towels , costumes ,toiletries I got off the train and left behind!!!

I once even lost a dining chair ??An actual chair!! What the hell? Concentrate Kelly!!

 

 

9) The tree incident

There I was one day , walking along the main road to school , minding my own business having a little daydream as I do ( probably about what I was going to eat next) and before I knew it , so ensconced in my daydream was I that I failed to notice my hair had become wrapped around a tree branch. By the time I realised I was chained to a tree by my hair I began to panic , but also I was on a busy main road and didn’t want to appear a total loon trying to rip my hair free from a branch…

I think I styled it out…probably

 

 

8) The knickers

Have you ever had a stranger stop their car on the same busy road mentioned in number 9 to tell you your skirt is tucked into your knickers??

No you normal people with active brains and who live on THIS planet will say , why we’ve not tucked our skirt into our knickers since we were 5.

I have , and not just the once either..mortifying!!!I mean what’s the appropriate response other than blushing and hoping the ground will swallow you up.

 

 

 

7) The Bag of Doom

The bag of doom is the biggest bone of contention between small girl’s daddy and I . The Bag of Doom is the overnight bag that travels between each of our houses in our harmonious co parenting journey to give us an extra thing to bicker about.

You know the drill , cuddly toys she needs for sleep and the like , school uniform , shoes. The essentials. Now knowing what a pain in the arse grump organised person he is I really should save myself the earache and get it right. I try. I write lists and everything . Sometimes I convince myself I’ve cracked it , I’ve packed this bag perfectly . There shall be no passive aggressive Bag of Doom texts . 5 mins later my phone beeps with a text

KELLY IT WOULD HAVE BEEN REALLY HELPFUL FOR YOU TO HAVE SENT HER COAT IN THIS TORENTIAL RAIN

Balls!!!! The thing is I start out with the bag , but then someone needs something or I get distracted and in all actuality I reckon I could be a goldfish with one of those 10 seconds memories or whatever it is

 

 

6)The inset day incident

Yes I took my kids to school on inset day….only once though?! Progress?!

 

 

5) The puddle incident

Out with a very handsome chap I was wowing him with my effervescent chat and sparkling wit (or the boobs one or the other) when actually I was so busy swooning over him , I forgot to pay attention to where my feet were, fell over them and landed in a puddle.

Seductive work Kelly , not a clue why the guys aren’t queuing round the block.

 

 

 

4) The where’s my phone? Incident

Small girl’s daddy had given me a lift home from school or something like that but when I got home I realised in typical me fashion I’d left my phone in his car. AAArgghh but I love my phone I must get it back thinks I . Calls him up to ask if he’d found my phone in his car

“which phone Kelly ?The one you’re calling me from right now?”

Oh…yeah…

Feel sorry for the guy yet?

 

 

3) Bag of Doom pt 2

Went to drop off Bag of Doom at daddy’s.

Was on the train before I realised I’d left the bag at home.

Went back for bag

Got back on the train.

Was daydreaming and decided to go the next stop on and go shopping

Went shopping.

Got home , still with the Bag of Doom about my person.

Got on the train…again….

Seriously Kelly ….get your shit together!!!

 

 

 

2) Today’s dress incident

All day long I was walking around with the labels on the outside of my dress.

Stylish!!

1)The shoe incident

OK the finale …

One day , I took small girl to school only on the train home did I glance at my feet and see this

 

 Whole other planet , I tell you 



Naptime Natter

Out of my hands 

Back when we left the abusive relationship all those years ago.

Back when my now taller than me teenagers were still little tiny things. 

Back when my now college boy was still in infant school. 

Back when my articulate chatterbox 2nd born still couldn’t talk properly (damn you speech therapy it was THE cutest) 

Back when I thought baby no. 3 treating brother baiting as if it were an Olympic sport was a phase she’d grow out of (poor deluded me) 

Back then. 
I had one priority – to keep them safe. 

It was hard at times. I was still so damaged from the abuse, I wasn’t strong mentally but still that fundamental aim remained. 

Keep them safe. 

I often felt like I was fighting the whole entire world and noone would listen to me and help me. For years through the family court nightmare with social services dragged into our lives by him every concern I had was met with ‘he’s their father, he has a right to see them’ 

I had to stand firm and unwavering at a time when I’ve never felt so fragile, but I could do it for them- to keep them safe. 
The children have seen their dad intermittently. They go to their paternal grandparents every fortnight and though he rarely took up the opportunity I was clear he was welcome to visit them there.  I didn’t want to be keeping my children from their father. Don’t get me wrong it suited me when he didn’t bother, I’m not claiming to be a saint here. 

Now though, at almost 17,15 and 14 it’s no longer my call. It’s no longer my decision but theirs. It’s out of my hands. 
This weekend they’re going to stay at his house for the weekend for the very first time. I’m really not dealing with it very well. 
The thing is it’s no longer about their safety. They want to go and stay and I can’t stand in their way. They really like his girlfriend and I actually think she could be the draw of why they want to go. 

It’s not that I believe them to be in physical danger – believe me if I thought that was even a possibility they’d be going nowhere.  
The discomfort I’m feeling is for selfish reasons.  The thought of them being there has triggered all the old feelings. Mentally I’m transported back to when I first came here – fragile and vulnerable and just feels bloody horrid. 
When we first came here my anxiety manifested itself as a ridiculous phobia of fainting in public. My physical anxiety symptoms feel very much like that second before you faint. Erratic breathing, throat tightening, light headedness and back then I was new to the anxiety game and didn’t realise that’s what it was. It used to happen daily back then but it’s not happened that badly in a good 7 years. Then yesterday it happened again. I know it’s because of this weekend and I just can’t stand to feel this way. It feels as if all my strength and mental stability has been whisked away and I’m back to that shaken girl of old. 

I know it’s only temporary though. I know when they arrive home Sunday after a lovely weekend all will be back right with my world. I do know that so I’m going to try to take a positive from this. I’m going to use it to acknowledge to myself how far I have come, how I am a totally different stronger woman now. 

I did what I set out to do. I took my children out of an unhealthy environment and I kept them safe. 
I have 3 down, happy, level headed (most of the time) teenagers and I have to allow them the space to make a relationship with their father if they choose to. 
I kept them safe. 
I just was unprepared for the time to come when it was out of my hands.  

<br /><br /><br />
<a href=”http://www.motherofteenagers.com” target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i36.photobucket.com/albums/e14/Motherofteenagers/3%20rsz_1rsz_1rsz_teen_logo_launch_zpslcprplei.jpg” alt=”Mother of Teenagers” /></a><br /><br /><br />

The perils of a teenage crush….. when you’re way too old for that! 

I’ve been banging on a bit recently about a certain lovely guy. It’s all fantastic and fun and I’m having the best time. I just can’t help feeling I’ve come into all this stuff a bit late in the day. I’m a bit of an oddball in that at 37 I’ve never done the ‘love stuff’… . ever! ! I’ve probably done a bit of low level crushing but that’s as far as it goes. I just don’t (didn’t) get giddy over guys. So I’ve got to tell you there are distinct perils of waiting till you’re 37 to develop a teenage crush.

It’s really quite unbecoming 

Love that word!! Anyway giddily smiling at your phone over a cute text or sat  daydreaming all gooey eyed does not suit a woman of my age. People would take one look and either think I’m on some kinda drug or are just a bit vacant!!
.

It’s tricky to know how to play it

I mean back in the day I last had a major crush when I were about 7 this did the trick. .

A grown mum of 4 doesn’t really have these options at her disposal.

What do I do in this position? I don’t bloody know and I don’t want to look like a total idiot who doesn’t know how to deal with men.

Spoiler alert : I am a total idiot who doesn’t know how to deal with men.

Do I answer texts right away? Can I just call at any time? Should I be playing hard to get? Sigh….

I really should have gotten this stuff out of the way when I had way more time on my hands!

My mental health ‘quirks’ confuse matters

Aaawww you know when you’re all crushy over someone? Butterflies in the tummy, a little appetite loss, replaying little moments in your mind to give them a second go, you sometimes get a little bit breathless around them?

WELL. Which bloody genius decided to make all these things also my anxiety symptoms. Not very well thought out this one! Sooo confusing.

Welcome to Kelly’s new quiz show… Adoration or Anxiety? ?? Thriller it is!

I behave like the opposite of me

I’m not really emotions girl.

I’m certainly not affection girl.

I’m certainly, certainly not public handholdy girl *vomits *

Until I am….

I don’t recognise myself – I’m not quite up to love poetry or heartfelt sentiment yet. Getting there though. I mean not long back whilst looking at the object of my crush I thought to myself “You’re so gorgeous”. . . Unfortunately it accidentally slipped out of my mouth-seriously Kelly get a bloody grip ! ! I suppose though if being around someone rounds off your sharp spiky edges a little bit or manages to negotiate the 10 foot high electric fence you surround yourself with – well that’s got to be a positive.

So you know it is quite cringey for a grown woman to be floating about like a besotted teenager, it’s just I didn’t do it back then you see? I’m just on catch up with the rest of you! Should you guys fancy an insight into my actual teen years though, just lay on your bed reading and avoiding the world for a couple of years.

However cringey it is though-in the current climate, I think that anything that makes you smile is probably worth holding onto for a little while! !!

 

Not Just The 3 Of Us

It’s coming up to that time of the year again.. .. 

We’re here again. The anniversary of the date I left the abusive relationship is on the horizon. I think by now I’ve possibly bored you all with my take and insight on that particular subject. I just wanted to talk about The Freedom Programme though and what an invaluable resource it is when you’ve suffered abuse (or indeed still are) 

That scary day, all those years ago, that I fled I didn’t expect to succeed. I don’t remember much about that time due to a shed load of unhealthy coping mechanisms as I spoke about here. What I do remember about that day though was the fear. Standing at the train station with the kids – sick with fright fully expecting him to show up and force us back. To this day I still occasionally have dreams of that exact scenario happening. They’re truly horrible. 

I did do it though. I got away. 

That startled girl in new city though is a million miles from the woman I am now. I’d naively expected to be able to  shut the door on that relationship and magically transform back into the person I was before him. Confident and ambitious. It sounds silly but it came as a shock to me quite how damaged I was. Thankfully here, years of therapy and using this blog as an extension of that down the line I am in the main healed and healthy and stronger. 

My healing process began with The Freedom Programme. I’d really like to share with you how it helped me so much. 

Firstly the fact that it’s a group scenario becomes really helpful. I know I know! That ironically was what almost put me off doing it in the first place. I had no confidence back then. I could barely look anyone in the face. How could I stride into a room of women and talking about things I hadn’t even with my closest people?
Well of course it wasn’t like that. 
It was a room of kindness and gentleness. Women just like me, who had the same stories to tell as me. That’s where the fact it’s a group scenario becomes empowering. You’re so isolated when you’re in an abusive relationship the relief of another woman saying “me too” when you talk of your experiences is incredible. When you speak of incidents that you’ve not mentioned to others as you worry they’d be seen as trivial and women relate,that’s powerful. Nothing sounded silly to these women, they knew. They got it. 

Secondly it’s just a brilliantly put together programme. The woman who devised it really knows what she is talking about on this subject and you can feel it. 

Each week you look at a different side to the perpetrator, the different behaviour they use. For me I for  the  first time acknowledged shared beliefs with the perpetrator which really helped me gain an understanding. You also are introduced to his opposite. Identify the characteristics of a more supportive man. The decent human being. Helpful in itself. 

Another amazing thing I gained from doing the Freedom Programme is that it helped me to allow myself to let go off the guilt I felt for not being able to get  the children out of that environment sooner. I wrote a whole blog post covering that here but it really was weight of the world lifted off your shoulders stuff. 

Lastly, and really importantly, the Freedom Programme stays with you. Here I am still banging on about it all these years later, I probably will be in another 10 years. 

There’s a section in the programme about being able to identify early signs of abusive behaviour. Kind of red flag warnings you can spot at the beginning of a relationship. I come back to these often. Between learning these on the programme and a good few years of just interacting with people I do feel quite well equipped to spot a twat from a distance these days. It’s helpful.

 They. Are. Everywhere 
The ones just beginning to chip away at a beautiful woman. The ones further down the line in absolute control of other people. The ones still single yet give off a waft of ‘abusive tendencies’ so strong  you can almost choke on it. 

If you are experiencing abuse there are agencies that can help you. That can safely support you. There are a whole army of women out here ready to mobilise on your command. 

Refuge 

Women’s aid

And of course the brilliant Freedom Programme

Are all here if it’s safe for you to get online. 

Doing the Freedom Programme started off my healing from abuse in the most positive way. Writing this blog and years of therapy have a big  part in enabling that healing to continue and there are also some spectacular humans who have helped me to get to where I am now, which is in no way a spectacular place to be but thinking back at this  time of year is way better than I’d have dreamed my life could be back then. 

Thank you all of you 

Xxx

 


Shameless plug : If you like my nonsense and fancy nominating me in the #BiBs2017 you can do so just here http://www.britmums.com/nominate-for-the-bibs2017/



Rhyming with Wine




JakiJellz


Hot Pink Wellingtons


The Pramshed




I’m sorry to let the side down, but I am scared 

Since the horrific terror attack on Manchester on Monday night I’ve shed  a lot of tears. Tears for those lives lost  , tears for the families with a part of them now gone, tears for those hurt and injured, tears for those who walked away without physical injury but who have lifetime of mental scars. 

I’ve been moved to tears by acts of kindness and stories that highlight the very best of people. 

I’ve shed tears feeling a city coming together, standing strong, uncowed, unbeaten. When Tony Walsh read his poem, as spoken about here, at the vigil on Tuesday night I felt that poem in my soul I’m sure of it. 

I’ve heard the lines we tell one another. I’ve said them myself. The strong lines.

“we must carry as on normal ”

” we can’t let them affect our daily lives”

“If we live in fear then the  terrorists win”

I am scared though. I am fearful. I’m terrified. 

My elder 3 children are teenagers. They want be out doing their own thing. I have to let them. Sending independent, good people out into the world? Well that’s the parenting goal isn’t it? 

Most anything my youngest at 9 considers a treat is in Manchester city centre. Her birthday was a couple  of weeks ago and for her birthday treat she really wanted to go to the CBBC tour at media city then then go to a ‘posh’ restaurant! You have to book a the tour quite far in advance so this weekend we were due to go. 

I’ve wrestled internally with it. Should I still take her? One half of my brain saying “you must go – you can’t live in fear”. The other half very much shouting “but WHAT IF ….??” Could I let her down and age appropriately discuss my fears? Probably not. I’m mummy. I’m the one who reassures worries. I’m meant to calm her fears, that’s what she expects from me. 

So do I brave it out? Head off to the city centre, try to feel strong and defiant. That “What if??” though, it’s loud and it’s chilling. 

Thankfully the decision was taken out of my hands and I received an email to say tours were cancelled. 

The relief was immense. 

I know we cannot give in to cowardly, vicious bullies. I know that. 
When cowardly, vicious bullies though have no  qualms in targetting families, in murdering children… 

Yes, I’m scared. 

I’m scared my boys might head off to a football match one day and be targeted. 

I’m scared my teen girl may go to a concert with her pals and not come back. 

I’m scared small girl could be out with daddy one day and become some evil, less than human’s victim. 

I’m scared small girl and I could head out on one of our jaunts and leave the elder 3 motherless. 

I know we’re still in the midst of grief and shock right now. I know we’re still hearing about these poor people killed, hearing their stories, seeing their faces. So very close to home it could have been any one of us.  Feeling guilty for daring to feel heartbroken knowing the friends and families of those murdered, those injured are the ones going through a torturous hell. 

Days, weeks, months will pass. This shall never be forgotten but  I’d imagine I’ll be back strolling through Manchester, taking the kids to sporting events, having one of my solo theatre dates. These times will come back around I know. Because love is stronger than hurt. Kindness is the antidote to fear. 

Manchester. You rock. Your strength of character and awesome people are inspirational. 

For now though-for today, for tomorrow. I am scared, and for that I am sorry. 

A love letter to mum bloggers…

 

Dear Mummy Bloggers ,

 

After the vileness of THAT ridiculous article by Anna May Mangan about how we are bringing the country to its knees with our gin soaked potato waffles ( oo wonder if that could work!) in that horrific newspaper that the devil would be proud of I felt compelled to tell you all how much I bloody love you.

 

 

As a mum blogger I love my little blog. I like having a little corner of the internet that’s mine. I’m proud of my blog too. Blogging makes me brave enough to share my thoughts in public . I’m grateful to my blog for being part of a really helpful therapy in my recovery from abuse.

 

 

Do you know what I like more though?

 

Your blogs.

 

I love reading your blogs , I love sharing them , I love finding a brand new blog then bingeing ( that spike in your views where you panic someone is reading everything you’ve ever written …that’s probably me!)

 

 

My favourites being those of you who bite the bullet and write really honestly about the realities of motherhood. Strangely I take it as a given that you all love your kids to pieces , I take it that we all know how lucky we are to have created actual humans who get to share our lives with . I don’t assume unless I see #blessed on your social media you’re just not that fond of them!

Reading your blogs full of love and joy and happiness is uplifting . Finding an idea for a new day out by reading reviews on your blog is really helpful.

When you share with us though , quite often in a raw manner , that sometimes you struggle. When you comment on how bloody hard this parenting lark can be. That some days it all feels impossible. That’s so very important too.

 

 

Parenting can be isolating . It’s terrifying. It’s so much harder having to deal with the constant feeling of being judged whether that’s by the woman tutting in the supermarket , your mother in law , your ex partner or a bloody national newspaper.

 

 

For an ordinary mum having one of those impossible days. Maybe she’s not seen another adult in a week. Maybe she’s exhausted and desperate and feels like this mummy gig is just too tough for her. Maybe she feels like a failure and is too worried to reach out in case everyone else agrees she’s a useless mother.

Well your blogs help save their sanity.

Maybe this tired mum comes across your blogs on an impossible day. Reads that other mums out there have had impossible days , that it’s normal , that she is not the only one. That she is not in fact a failure but a member of a massive club. A club full of women who have impossible days sometimes fish fingers and gin and all. That can feel like the biggest relief , the weight of the world falling from your shoulders. It’s a comfort to know that sometimes impossible days are followed by magical days. It’s a comfort that there are women out there who you can identify with and communicate with and that it’s ok to find it tough.

 

 

You’re not just a sanity saver though mum bloggers. You’re entertainment.

 

There are some supremely talented writers out there.

 

Blogging is not merely a load of self indulgent mums having a moan. So many topics are covered in this umbrella of the ‘mum blog’ Inspirational , moving writing covering heavy topics. Racism , mental health ,divorce, politics , feminism , abuse , grief all covered in various of your blogs I’ve read and written well. These are not just fluffy headed women half drunk on their 11am gin indulgently bleating about how shit it is to be a mum despite what the Daily Mail think. I’m unsure the writer of this particular piece has ever really read much of your work.

 

 

You’re funny too , so funny!! Your witty , intelligent writing can cheer up a miserable grey day!

 

 

So sneer all you want Daily Mail. You hate women as it is , of course you’ll feel threatened by a group of them who don’t behave as you think they should. Who build women up, who stand in solidarity with one another. Female empowerment was never really going to be your thing though. We’ve seen your poking fun at unflattering bikini shots and your misogynist headlines. To be frank some of the pieces I’ve been unlucky enough to come across from your ‘newspaper’ are nothing short of a hate crime .

 

Well love wins over hate.

 

Mum bloggers I bloody love you!!!

 

Kelly xxx

 

 

Shameless plug : If you like my nonsense and fancy nominating me in the #BiBs2017 you can do so just here http://www.britmums.com/nominate-for-the-bibs2017/





Naptime Natter



Hot Pink Wellingtons


Mummy in a Tutu

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The identity crisis bucket list! 

Earlier in the month I wrote about how now the children are getting older and a little less dependent I’m feeling about wobbly and unsettled about who I am as a woman, not just a mum. That particular self indulgent post is just here.

How do you find out who you are though? I’m a bit short on babysitters, time and cash to go off on some retreat of self discovery in the Himalayas for 6 months.

I thought a good place to start was think about things I like doing. The important word being I,rather than ‘we’. I know what we like doing as a family. I’ve spent the vast majority of the past 17 years finding things ‘we’ like doing and I really, really hope there are years and years of that to come.

I am lucky though in that I do generally  get a weekend a month to myself when my elder kids are with grandma and small girl is with daddy. I’ve even almost a fortnight in the summer holidays – that’s too long though I’ll be moaning about missing the kids by day 3. I’ve gotten better at utilising my child free time I did spend years just sitting home whinging about being lonely. I just need to keep doing that, maximising my free time . Try and find that woman that’s tucked away in here, rediscover the passions and interests that don’t lie solely on keeping these gorgeous human beings of mine alive and well.
I did what I always do.

Made a list.

It’s nothing earth shattering or awe inspiring but just a gentle start of remembering or discovering what makes me tick when the kids aren’t around.
Can I share them?

Go camping – on my own 

I’m a fan of doing stuff alone. I’m the advocate of the solo date, I enjoy my own company. I’m quite lucky where I live too with the Peak District almost on the doorstep so one weekend when I’m heartlessly abandoned by my children I’m just going to go walking up there. Look at beautiful scenery and collect my thoughts to the picturesque backdrop.

Go to Edinburgh fringe festival 

I’ve always wanted to do this. Wall to wall theatre and art. The children are away for over a week during the summer and I’m going to have myself a little holiday and head Northwards for some culture!

Exercise 

Stay with me here I’m not going to go all gym bunny on you. I loathe the thought of running and swimming so much so it actually puts me off doing it. This is really silly because when I do go for a proper run I do enjoy it. Working up a bit of a sweat with just my cringe worthy play list for company always makes me feel really good. Running is great for keeping my anxiety at bay too. So I’m going to stop being a lazy arse and get out there.

Write the book (or at least try) 

Everyone has a book I them don’t they say?  Mine is just struggling a bit with the getting out part. Do you know why? Because I feel daft. I worry that people would think “bloody hell we have to put up with her shockingly shite writing with her blog – who does she think she is writing a book?”

It could be true. I could invest time and effort only to produce the world’s worst book, but even if this were to be the case well it’d not have hurt anyone would it?

Let’s crack on with that.

Visit new places 

I read a short story by Jenny Colgan once called Paris For One. A woman gets stood up by her boyfriend and ends up visiting Paris alone. I’ve wanted to follow suit ever since.  I spent my younger years child rearing so have never really seen anywhere I’d have liked to yet. I might not manage Paris but I could start off with some UK cities surely?

So that’s my list so far.

I’ll bore you to death with tales of my adventures ticking them off but I feel so much happier just having written them down. I’ve showed them to you guys too so that means  I HAVE to do them right?
So here’s to making the most of child free weekends instead of moaning about abandonment.
After all the children certainly aren’t pining for me when they’re having fun at  grandma’s or having adventures with daddy!

 

 

 

Like my Facebook blog page to follow my adventures


 

Shameless plug : If you like my nonsense and fancy nominating me in the #BiBs2017 you can do so just here http://www.britmums.com/nominate-for-the-bibs2017/


Not Just The 3 Of Us

 

The one where…. My child ruins Friends for me 

One thing I love about the teens getting older is being able to introduce them to TV shows and movies and books that I used to love when I was their ages. It’s so nice now they’re older to make the tv snacks, get on the sofa and watch something together.

Some of my shows and movies are more successful than others. Dawson’s Creek was ridiculed and heckled throughout, much to my dismay.

Friends though. Friends was welcomed with open arms. We went through every series. We began recording the actual programmes we would have ordinarily watched on tv as they just wanted to watch ‘one more episode’ of Friends.

I was smug.

Told you it was good eh?

“Hey! How you doing? ” became the eldests greeting as he got in of an evening. .. to his brother! To himself even! Inappropriate yet really quite funny.

” I’m FINE! “a la Ross when Rachel and Joey are together became code for anything that was clearly anything but.

Smelly cat was sung out loud.

” could I BE wearing anymore clothes ” became the answer to my insistence they wrap up warm to go to the football.

All was good.

I was cool mum.

I am the best.

Then it happened.

We’re rewatching some Friends more recently (yes they loved it THAT much) we’re at a later series, close to the end and my 15yo youngest son spoils it all.

Youngest son : Mum I’m surprised you wanted Ross and Rachel to end up together.

Me: Why? You know I’m a sucker for a love story!

Youngest son : love? Is it though? That whole relationship is just toxic. Ross is too  controlling.

I am stunned into silence at this point.

That’s OK though because he’s going to elaborate.. .

Elaborate he does. .

How unsupportive Ross is when Rachel lands her dream job.

The suffocating manner in which  he behaves about Mark. Becoming a stalky control freak creepfest.

How he never takes responsibility for cheating, using the “we were on a break” excuse.

I couldn’t disagree with any of it.

I mean Ross was never my favourite – he’s a sexist idiot. Remember the fuss he made about Ben playing with a doll? How he mocked and sacked the male nanny? ?

So the lesson learned here is this-beware of sharing your old favourites with your children, they they might just spoil it.


Not Just The 3 Of Us

 
Sha    The Tale of Mummyhood

Practical ways I tell my anxiety to keep away!


Anxiety sucks.

 

It can turn your average day into an overthought , catastrophizing nightmare.

 

I don’t have the cure I’m afraid .

 

I’ve read all the info , I know exercise , good nights sleep , healthy food and not drinking wine or overdosing on chocolate are what I’m meant to be doing to keep anxiety at bay. Not much fun though are they?

 

I can’t run when I’ve convinced myself I’m going to faint at any minute …and probably on the road…then I’ll get run over and killed… and then what will the kids do….Yes that’s my actual thought process during an anxious moment. Total pain in the arse.

 

I’ve never managed to stop that horrific pain through my stomach and my face going numb by eating kale.

 

How the hell am I meant to get a good nights sleep when I can barely breathe with the panic?

 

 

I know these tips are the sensible ones. Sometimes a run does blast away the panic , sometimes a long sleep stops the overthinking.

 

 

Over the years though  , I’ve gotten to grips with my anxiety to an extent. It’s personal to me and I know how to nip an episode in the bud quite often , I know how to calm myself . They may sound a bit odd but anxiety is a personal thing , there’s no one size fits all solution. Maybe some of mine may work for you . Here’s how I tell anxiety to just p**s off!!!

 

 

Phone calls to my sister.

If I’m feeling a bit wobbly , or I feel unsettled this is my go to activity. Chat , especially idle gossip and thoughtless chat is a distraction. Add to that my sisters familiar voice and calms me down.

I’m not suggesting you all ring my sister when you’re panicky , though as I always say if I could clone her I’d give you all a copy – she’s ace!!

Maybe if you have someone with whom you can partake in chit chat as a distraction though , a familiar voice , a calming influence though this could work for you .

 

Monday vlog indulgence

Could be a bit niche this one …stay with me.

Monday’s are always a pain in the bum aren’t they? A good start to a week though can do wonders for my head. I also love a vlog , I’m a blogger , I’m nosy why wouldn’t I?

Starting the week by watching Marian Keyes weekly vlog sets me up nicely for the week . She’s funny , she’s engaging, she’s pretty , she’s smiley ( I’m pretty sure the accent helps too) I am a big fan of her books and she’s a bit of a Twitter crush of mine if truth be told. Being told stories is another on the anxiety cheat sheet and well ,  Marian is as fab at telling stories verbally as she is writing them down. The vlogs start my Monday with a smile. In fact I recommend them (  link here : https://www.youtube.com/user/himselfkeyes) to all of you , even if you’re not quite as nutty as me!)

 

 

Joining in with small girl

My 8 year old does everything with zeal. There is no half hearted with her. On a wobbly day , taking a leaf out of her book and just joining in with her is as therapeutic as anything I know.

If it’s feeding the ducks we’re throwing the food as far as we can , if it’s drawing or colouring it takes every bit of focus we have. If it’s dancing it’s with every bit of our body.

It seems when I put my absolute all into any activity it’s really hard for my anxiety to take a grip on my mind.

 

 

Watching stand up

An obvious one really.

From the school of fake it ’till you make it!! If I’m laughing anxiety does not stand a chance.

 

 

Writing

Could be a blog post , could be a letter (yes I still write those – how quaint am I?)

More likely though it’s just a total mind dump into a notebook.

When I am anxious I overthink.

This never ends well for me , especially when it all just swirls around m mind like some kind of brain bothering hurricane. The reason I ever started this blog was because I’ve always found that writing down what bothers me helps . Having a million thoughts whizzing around this head each one causing another hundred in a anxious chain reaction means I’m not going to feel great. Picking up a pen , writing them down uncensored gets the thoughts out of the nutty mind and into a notebook where they become much less powerful. I can see how ridiculous they are written there in black in white.Then I can shut the notebook and walk away. It helps.

 

 

They’re little things , but sometimes little things help.

 

Do you have any little tricks that keep your anxiety in it’s place or that can calm you ?

 

I’d love to hear them.

xxx
 



My Facebook blog page is here 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s off on her soapbox again…

I am too.
I’m just so sickened and furious I can’t possibly not climb onto my soapbox. So forgive this long, rant post.
We currently live in a society where Tax Credits will only be paid for the first two children. I have thoughts on how we can meander into effectively being a 2 child state but they’re for another blog. I am aware that the welfare state is under excruciating pressure and that cuts have to come, again I’ve thoughts on why the cuts have to come from the poorest rather than the richest but again whole other blog post.
The one exemption to the 2 child law that is in place is if a third or subsequent child is “conceived as a result of rape or an otherwise coercive relationship”

All you have to do is fill in form NCC1 4/17 (an 8 page long document) to be assessed as to whether your rape counts or not.

Simple eh?

Nothing for you ladies to get your knickers in a twist about. The government are merely making sure they put a end to all those hoards of women getting themselves pregnant for benefits and one of those massive mansions some channel 5 documentary shows us they all live in.

I find this law abhorrent enough as it is. I can imagine many women having to struggle financially rather than go through the humiliation and reliving of a hugely traumatic event filling in the rape form then having to discuss it again with a third party.

The law itself isn’t what has me seething though (well it does but it seems I can get to a higher seething level). My issue here is that whoever dreamt up this Victorian, barbaric law and every person who signed it off along the way know nothing about domestic abuse and less than nothing about coercive control.

The thing that jumped out at me was that women still living with the father of children born through rape or in a coercive relationship are not allowed to claim this support.

So here we are at the first ridiculous notion. That if you are in an abusive relationship which, as they often do, include sexual abuse you are able to just pack up and leave. Now  even without taking into account the slashing of funding for women’s refuges, making it harder for those who are able to leave, there’s the simple fact that many women in abusive relationships can’t just leave. Here’s why I couldn’t.

Then we get to rape in relationships. The people who dreamt up this law are obviously those who are experts in how rape happens. They clearly think it’s exclusively something that only happens in dark alleys, by big scary monsters of men who attack strangers.

Rape doesn’t always happen in badly lit streets after dark. Sometimes it happens in a comfy bed, in her own home, by the man she loves.

Keep in mind too that a tactic abusive men use too is to keep a woman pregnant. Ensure she’s stuck in the house. Often she’s denied access to contraception as she’s not allowed solo doctors visits.

So the people at the top who make these laws. Well you’re doing the work of the abusive man for him here. You’re telling these women that you can’t be raped if you live with someone (he’s probably been telling her that for years) Then when he does impregnate her without her consent she’s going to struggle financially, trapping her further. Well done decision makers. Research a project called The Freedom Programme they’ve helped many a woman like me get to grips with their own abuse. I’m sure a little read could educate even the most ignorant.

The rape clause also tells us that children conceived as a result of a coercive relationship are also exempt from the 2 child policy.
Except again this women have to have left to count.

Sigh. .. .
Coercive control in its nature begins  so subtly you often don’t realise it’s even happening until it’s too late. You no longer question why you shouldn’t wear make up you just stop. You know you can no longer go out with your friends but are unsure how it got to that.
I can envisage many a scenario where coercive control in a relationship would result in pregnancy.
It’s the man telling his partner if she truly loved him she’d have a baby despite her not wanting one , after all doesn’t he live with the kids she already has by some other guy?
It’s the woman accused of having an affair because she doesn’t want to have sex. She knows from past history that line of questioning will likely end in violence so she lays and doesn’t protest whilst he has sex with her.
It’s the exhausted brand new mum, newborn by her bed whose partner is so jealous of all the attention she’s giving her baby. She’s sore, she’s exhausted, she certainly doesn’t want to participate but she’s told to just lay still and quiet so as not to wake the baby.

I could go on, but I’ve probably gone on enough. I just can’t understand the mentality behind this law in a country that considers itself forward thinking and free and fair.
I’m at a loss as to what I can do as a woman living in a country where the government shows such disdain for women’s rights and such a misunderstanding (or maybe a choice not to understand) how abuse works.
I feel for these women, abused by the person they live with then to have their experiences gaslighted by the government too.
I fear what comes next.

There’s a petition here against the cuts if you feel like I do. 100,000 signatures means this must be debated in parliament

My Facebook page is here

 

Shameless plug : If you like my nonsense and fancy nominating me in the #BiBs2017 you can do so just here http://www.britmums.com/nominate-for-the-bibs2017/

 

 

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