Here’s a transcript of a conversation I overheard on Friday whilst the boys were in the kitchen washing up:
Luke: Oh my god Ellis, just wait till you get to secondary school.
Ellis: Why?
Luke: Just because you won’t know what to do.
Ellis: What do you mean?
Luke: Well, girls.
Ellis: Girls? Have you kissed one?
Luke: Der! Yeah course I have.
Ellis: Really? No you didn’t.
Luke: Course I have.
Ellis: On the lips?
Luke: Yeah.
Ellis: Have you tongued them?
Max: I kissed a girl
Luke: Oh yeah, of course tongues.
Ellis: Really?
Luke: Yep, but it’s got to be a good friend, you only ask one of the girls that you’re close to.
Ellis: Who are your friends? You’re not close with any girls!
Luke: Yeah I am, and you kiss them and give them a cuddle afterwards.
Ellis: Do you?
Max: I did, I kissed a girl.
Luke: And then you ask to see their boobs and then they ask to see your balls.
Ellis: Really?
Max: I kissed a girl.
Luke: No, not really but the kissing bit’s true.
Max: I kissed mum.
Sunday 25 January 2009
Monday 19 January 2009
Starting over
Lynbo commented on my previous posts about selling up (wave to Lynn) and I just need to clarify things on here.
Regarding selling up, viewing is strictly by appointment only, ie ,when I'm at work and the ‘viewers’ can comment on my home when I can’t hear them. I won’t ever meet the people who look around my home, sneering at the carpets that need replacing or the single glazed windows (I do have some double glazed but the rear half of my house is stuck in the 50s). I won’t ever hear their comments about my dark coloured kitchen units (fucking expensive Sagga ones actually, not to everyone’s taste, granted, but quality nonetheless) or that the bathroom is titchy (I’ll have you know that all four of us, yes FOUR of us, do our hair/make up/teeth in that bathroom together every morning!). I won’t, thank a god, hear the words ‘No, it’s not for me, I’ll make an offer on the other house I saw’.
But hang on a minute. I bought this house so I'm pretty hopeful that someone else will also fall in love with it. Someone else will see its charm and will appreciate the big rooms. Another person will see the early tulips bulbs poking through the soil and will see my peony budding and the early signs of hydranga’s blooms. I know that before its time is over another family will live here, enjoy a baby’s first Christmas, maybe even another birth, first steps, first school.
I bought this house with love, my children were conceived, born and brought up here. My marriage started and ended here. I learnt to cook here. I fumbled around in the garden here until I learnt which plants grew where. I scraped wallpaper off every single wall (and some ceilings) and papered and painted every square inch myself at some point over the years. I’ve had 15 Christmases here, 15 birthdays and many, many more children’s parties here. I’ve cried here and I’ve died here and I’ve worked my balls off to pay the mortgage to stay here, working every second I had, cleaning toilets, ironing shirts, transcribing shitty tapes and scrubbing classroom floors. I worked in the office when my baby was 7 weeks old so that I had enough cash to keep our house going, putting Max into nursery when he was 3 months old because I would have been damned if I was going to claim benefits and get evicted. Oh yes, I will be sad to go Lynn, I cry every single time I think about having to walk out of here for the last time but in all honestly this house has given me everything anyone could ever want and it’s made me who I am. But it’s not perfect so I don’t expect everyone to love it.
Besides, I'm on the way to a life with MM, and so I'm happy to give up Chez Nous to build a new one with my man.
Regarding selling up, viewing is strictly by appointment only, ie ,when I'm at work and the ‘viewers’ can comment on my home when I can’t hear them. I won’t ever meet the people who look around my home, sneering at the carpets that need replacing or the single glazed windows (I do have some double glazed but the rear half of my house is stuck in the 50s). I won’t ever hear their comments about my dark coloured kitchen units (fucking expensive Sagga ones actually, not to everyone’s taste, granted, but quality nonetheless) or that the bathroom is titchy (I’ll have you know that all four of us, yes FOUR of us, do our hair/make up/teeth in that bathroom together every morning!). I won’t, thank a god, hear the words ‘No, it’s not for me, I’ll make an offer on the other house I saw’.
But hang on a minute. I bought this house so I'm pretty hopeful that someone else will also fall in love with it. Someone else will see its charm and will appreciate the big rooms. Another person will see the early tulips bulbs poking through the soil and will see my peony budding and the early signs of hydranga’s blooms. I know that before its time is over another family will live here, enjoy a baby’s first Christmas, maybe even another birth, first steps, first school.
I bought this house with love, my children were conceived, born and brought up here. My marriage started and ended here. I learnt to cook here. I fumbled around in the garden here until I learnt which plants grew where. I scraped wallpaper off every single wall (and some ceilings) and papered and painted every square inch myself at some point over the years. I’ve had 15 Christmases here, 15 birthdays and many, many more children’s parties here. I’ve cried here and I’ve died here and I’ve worked my balls off to pay the mortgage to stay here, working every second I had, cleaning toilets, ironing shirts, transcribing shitty tapes and scrubbing classroom floors. I worked in the office when my baby was 7 weeks old so that I had enough cash to keep our house going, putting Max into nursery when he was 3 months old because I would have been damned if I was going to claim benefits and get evicted. Oh yes, I will be sad to go Lynn, I cry every single time I think about having to walk out of here for the last time but in all honestly this house has given me everything anyone could ever want and it’s made me who I am. But it’s not perfect so I don’t expect everyone to love it.
Besides, I'm on the way to a life with MM, and so I'm happy to give up Chez Nous to build a new one with my man.
Awww, shucks, didn’t realise I was such a softie, don't tell anyone!
Sunday 18 January 2009
Driving six year olds
I was driving home after school with Max, aged 6 and James, aged 6 also, in the back of the car. When I have kids in the car my music goes off and I keep one ear very firmly on what they’re talking about, purely for entertainment purposes. Here’s Friday’s conversation from the back seat.
‘I know what those Ls are on cars’ says James.
‘Me too’ says Max, ‘it means Learner’.
‘No it doesn’t,’ retorts James, ‘it means Losers'.
(They’re 6 remember)
‘Hahahaha, yeah, yeah, Loooooooserrrrrrrs’ enthuses Max.
‘Oh look, there's a AA Loser’
‘Hahahahaha’
‘AA means Alphabet Loser’ says James, ‘Yeah, Axceptional Alphabet Loser’.
‘Hahahahaha’
All the way home…. :-))
Friday 16 January 2009
Welcome Sister Bliss
Welcome to Sister Bliss!
Yesterday I was telling my sister about the fannying about I’ve been doing every morning to get the house ship shape for [potential] viewings…doing the washing up, fluffing up the cushions, cleaning the loo, taking the pants and socks off the radiators (whether they were dry or not), and even making the beds. I also, in my paranoia, took the tatty laundry basket to work with me as I didn’t want to leave it on the landing for all and sundry to see. (I didn’t actually take it in the office tho, it just sat on the back seat of the car all day). Harriet, my lovely sister, agreed that when her house was on the market she, too, used to do this, texting me:
‘OMG, that’s what we did with our laundry basket and our coats, shoes and, get this sis, the fucking hamster!’
Yesterday I was telling my sister about the fannying about I’ve been doing every morning to get the house ship shape for [potential] viewings…doing the washing up, fluffing up the cushions, cleaning the loo, taking the pants and socks off the radiators (whether they were dry or not), and even making the beds. I also, in my paranoia, took the tatty laundry basket to work with me as I didn’t want to leave it on the landing for all and sundry to see. (I didn’t actually take it in the office tho, it just sat on the back seat of the car all day). Harriet, my lovely sister, agreed that when her house was on the market she, too, used to do this, texting me:‘OMG, that’s what we did with our laundry basket and our coats, shoes and, get this sis, the fucking hamster!’
Thursday 15 January 2009
Day 2 on the property housing market. So far one porch rebuilt, one mahooosive clean up, one new flat roof, one viewing and one rejection. Hmmm, my home is like a child to me, I’ve done my utmost to keep it with us; my house looks the best it has for a very long time and rejections play on my emotions, speshilly at this time of the month. Onwards and upwards. Max has asked which house we’ll move to. I told him that I don’t know yet and he requested that we live at a house with a number one on the front door…and I thought his priorities would be somewhat more expansive than that.
Luke's been in a bit of hot water at (secondary) school and is learning some harsh lessons in responsibility and how a bad attitude ruins lives. (NB, the bad attitude displays itself to one teacher/subject only, but stroppy sighs and answering back will get him nowhere). Gosh, it's so hard for him being so young and frustrated at the world. I have spoken to him, given him an older opinion, an unbiased view, have tried to be objective and I do encourage him to remain positive but I can only stand by and watch him learn all this stuff himself. And of course he doesn't believe me that it will be OK in the end, kids don't believe it. Ah well, I guess it's only so hard for us as we're reliving the same pain and angst all over again, brings it all racing home at just how difficult fitting in to the world can be. Being so young means being out of control and god knows I hate that feeling and I'm 36. Still, let's hope we all feel happy in our place somewhere.
I'm currently listening to Richard Bona, thank you Dad.
Luke's been in a bit of hot water at (secondary) school and is learning some harsh lessons in responsibility and how a bad attitude ruins lives. (NB, the bad attitude displays itself to one teacher/subject only, but stroppy sighs and answering back will get him nowhere). Gosh, it's so hard for him being so young and frustrated at the world. I have spoken to him, given him an older opinion, an unbiased view, have tried to be objective and I do encourage him to remain positive but I can only stand by and watch him learn all this stuff himself. And of course he doesn't believe me that it will be OK in the end, kids don't believe it. Ah well, I guess it's only so hard for us as we're reliving the same pain and angst all over again, brings it all racing home at just how difficult fitting in to the world can be. Being so young means being out of control and god knows I hate that feeling and I'm 36. Still, let's hope we all feel happy in our place somewhere.
I'm currently listening to Richard Bona, thank you Dad.
Sunday 11 January 2009
Happiest New Year
Ahhh, I haven’t made an entry for a month. I have dipped in and out of virtualland but have also been very busy. Lots to remember, lots to tell, lots to get down on this keyboard so that I can read back with a big smile in my heart.
Christmas and New Year was lovely. MM and I were childless for a week over Christmas – my boys spent the festive time with their dad (they had a ball) – and so we had a very happy adult time, precious time together. We spent it at Marin’s flat, he bought a tree and smelly candles, and my mum joined us for the big dinner. We ate cheese, opened pressies (I was spoiled) we drank good wine, snuggled a lot, ate wonderful food, listened to great music, got evacuated cos of a fire in the apartment below (!) and (apart from the fire) generally had a stress free time. We then went to the Midlands to stay with The Cotton Tops and took MM’s boys. That, too, was stress free and homely and as a Christmas holiday should be and I actually read a book, yep, I really had time, in between eating, drinking and going to the panto, to actually read (Anthony Bourdain, A Cook’s Tour, great stuff).
Then home again and my boys came back and we spent New Year’s Eve, with MM, playing Monopoly and drinking more good wine and champagne. And it was about this time that we (I say we, I mean MM) started rebuilding my porch/front door. Why do that sort of DIY at this time of year when it’s barmy to paint in freezing temperatures, I hear you ask. Well it’s cos just before Christmas MM and I decided something, something monumental actually, something very exciting and something that will challenge my resolute independence that I’ve exercised, and my boys have suffered, for 7 years. We are going to buy a house together, get a home for all 7 of us! So explains the DIY, as there are some jobs that need to be done before viewing of my house can commence, although that’s nearly all complete and whilst MM has been rebuilding my wooden front door and porch I have filled two cars with crap out of my garden/house which is massively cathartic.
Christmas and New Year was lovely. MM and I were childless for a week over Christmas – my boys spent the festive time with their dad (they had a ball) – and so we had a very happy adult time, precious time together. We spent it at Marin’s flat, he bought a tree and smelly candles, and my mum joined us for the big dinner. We ate cheese, opened pressies (I was spoiled) we drank good wine, snuggled a lot, ate wonderful food, listened to great music, got evacuated cos of a fire in the apartment below (!) and (apart from the fire) generally had a stress free time. We then went to the Midlands to stay with The Cotton Tops and took MM’s boys. That, too, was stress free and homely and as a Christmas holiday should be and I actually read a book, yep, I really had time, in between eating, drinking and going to the panto, to actually read (Anthony Bourdain, A Cook’s Tour, great stuff).
Then home again and my boys came back and we spent New Year’s Eve, with MM, playing Monopoly and drinking more good wine and champagne. And it was about this time that we (I say we, I mean MM) started rebuilding my porch/front door. Why do that sort of DIY at this time of year when it’s barmy to paint in freezing temperatures, I hear you ask. Well it’s cos just before Christmas MM and I decided something, something monumental actually, something very exciting and something that will challenge my resolute independence that I’ve exercised, and my boys have suffered, for 7 years. We are going to buy a house together, get a home for all 7 of us! So explains the DIY, as there are some jobs that need to be done before viewing of my house can commence, although that’s nearly all complete and whilst MM has been rebuilding my wooden front door and porch I have filled two cars with crap out of my garden/house which is massively cathartic.
All of the boys seem happy with the idea of one big house (or BH as well refer to it as). Seeing as this is the only home that any of my children have known (Ellis was actually born in his own bedroom) they are unbelievably keen to up sticks and share with a Man, albeit one they know very well and who is very kindly to them – the four of us have been through a lot together and I'm very pleased that they’re not going to be precious about our dynamics changing and are looking forward to being part of a big family 24/7….afterall, have 5 boys and we’ll laugh even more!
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