Friday 12 December 2008

I work in an office five days a week. I live 6 miles from the office and I usually drive. In summer months I cycle, when time allows. I enjoy work, but it is work, not a party, and I love my home but that, too, is tiring and often stressful. But inbetween work and home I enjoy this:





I took these this morning. Every single day I feel completely overwhelmed with how lucky I am to have that view into work every morning. (And no, I don’t work in France!)

Thursday 4 December 2008

The Max Effect



Max is six. He doesn’t have BO and he doesn’t have underarm hair. And yet he’s taken to applying deodorant every morning. And no, he doesn’t have any, but he waits for his brother to leave their shared room and then has a quick spritz of Eli’s under his arms. OVER his clothes!! I know this because I caught sight of two white circles of cold, wet Lynx on the pits of his royal blue school sweater….


Oh well, I thought, it’ll wash out and he’s going off to school feeling just that little bit older and more sophisticated than the other 6 year olds in his class so I let him get in the car not saying any more about it. However (!) it wasn’t until he was getting out of the car at school that I noticed a white circle of Lynx on his, um, crotch area! I do hope Emily was impressed with his grooming!!

Monday 1 December 2008




I'm back in bloggyland. The last week or so have been filled with Eli and Max learning their Christmas play songs and, in Eli’s case, his lines. Max is playing – I say playing, I mean representing, as he has no lines to say – Joseph, which he’s made up with cos he’s always wanted to be a carpenter, apparently. And Eli’s class is doing Cinderella Rockafella and he’s an ugly sister, which, if you know Ellis, will sound right up his street – camp and pantomime are his middle names. I cannot wait to see both plays, I know all the kids in their classes and I just fall in love with them every Christmas. They all put their little hearts into their performances, I was never so confident as a child, my flame haired, spinster music teacher used to should shout ferociously at the girls for not having such lovely singing voices as the boys, knocked my confidence and so never enjoyed being on the stage myself…

Luke’s apparently been entered into a school singing competition by his teacher. He and a few friends have to sing a ‘really old song, by someone called Queen’. I sang a few lines of Bohemian Rhapsody and he exclaimed that that was the song he has to perform. Good luck with that then Spooks!!

I’ve started Christmas shopping. I’ve decided that, having got three kids, I cannot avoid it. So I have decided to, er embrace it. I'm old school I'm afraid, brought up a Catholic (although not practising now, can you imagine?!) but Christmas for me is a sacred time and I get right hacked off with all the commercialism of it all. For instance if there are to be decorations to be hung then they’ll be Victorian and traditional and there will not be a Liverpool Football Club advent calendar anywhere in my house!!! And if I see fit to buy presents for people it might well not come off their ‘lists’ (when did it become normal for adults to compose Christmas present lists?). I believe that Christmas is about giving, not expecting. Anyhooo, I’ve been asked what I would like to receive so I’ve voiced some suggestions, all very girlie, all very decorative, all very shallow and self indulgent, so what does that say?!

Times are hard, especially with Christmas coming up, these last two weeks I’ve been working my tits off for very little, if any, recognition and I'm now facing tough times ahead, for me and my little ones. When I try to do the best I can and I get knocked down then it’s hard to see any further than my nose, not a great feeling when I have to be the grown up sensible one. I’ve felt defeated recently, isolated and completely tested to the hilt. And then one day I was driving home with Ellis and his mate, in the back of the car and they were joyous about the football match that their team had just won. I heard them talk about one particular little boy on their team who scored an own goal – didn’t make any difference cos our school won by about 8 goals, but the own goal scorer burst into tears and sobbed about his ‘failing’. And the kid on the back seat of my car apparently told him ‘Why are you crying, we’re still winning’.

Pain is temporary, pride lasts forever!