Came downstairs this morning to see this in the kitchen:

                                                   I live with boys, what can I say?

Going soft?

Mental on-my-feet-all-day at work, come home to immediately – and I mean literally walk from the front door to the stove - start cooking dinner (delish bacon and pea tagliatelle for the boys, steamed veg for me). Just about to dish up at the very reasonable 6pm when Luke and Max announce they’re going for a kick about. Humph. I protested, swore actually, feeling wholly shat on that I bothered to do something nice (well I consider cooking a tasty meal from scratch a nice thing to do for people) I tried shoveling on the guilt in an attempt to make them appreciate me and my cooking but no, they just hated me even more and then bogged off.

Should I have: 

1. Put my foot down and insisted they stay for dinner?
2. The above?

I didn’t make them stay because if I had done they would have refused dinner and sloped off to their rooms. I didn’t make them stay because I would give my right arm for them to ‘go outside and play’ more often. Kids, not mine anyway, don’t do that often enough. Sure, they are active but in today’s tech age they all spend alot more time on their electronic gadgets (perusing less than savoury webpages, I shouldn’t wonder) than out in a field, enjoying actual fresh air.  

And so MM and I ate our dinner together whilst my kids were on the ‘outside’. My only regret is that I didn’t join them. 

 

Wonderful outdoorness this summer

My little guy

Yay, the sun is shining and, very thoughtfully so, on a Sunday so that we may enjoy our outdoor pursuits even more so.  I’m pleased to see the sun again, I was not ready to file away the flip flops in the understairs cupboard just yet.

 

Life is so much better under a blue sky – reminds me of our lovely summer together.

 

The complex where we stayed had two pools, and ours was the quieter one at the back. We had the pool pretty much to ourselves for much of the time and it was deep – a good couple of feet over the boys’ heads. One day, Max and I were bobbing around in the blue.

 

‘Mum, I can reach the bottom!’

‘Wow, I’m impressed Max’ (I really was as I’m afraid of heights so looking down more than six foot, whether wet or dry, gives me the willies)

‘Yeah, I touched the bottom with my, um...with the palms of my feet’

The palms of his feet :)

 

 

 

Oh, and speaking of funny things 11 year olds say, it was on this holiday that Max heard us use the word tourist and asked what a tourist was. We explained, using ourselves as examples. 

'Oooooh' he replied pensively 'I always get tourists and terrorists mixed up'

Well, you might only do that once on a plane Max!

Growing pains

‘I want to buy a car mum’

‘Why? You don’t have job so can’t afford to run one’

‘I’ll get a job’

‘But that might take ages’.

‘Oh well, I still want one.

Comes home with a car.

‘Now what Luke?’

‘You could lend me the money for insurance’

‘No, you’re old enough to buy a car, you’re old enough to run it.  Go and get a job’

‘Ok, I will’

Stands back and watches events unfold...

A week of waiting after the mammoth B&Q interview slash team building slash practical exam and Luke is finally put out of his misery – he was not offered a job. Gutted doesn’t even cut how Luke looks. His face is etched into a painful disappointment, somewhere verging on tears. As for how he sounds, I don’t know as he can’t utter a syllable, such is this tortured setback.  The job would have meant independence and cash in his pocket, it would have enabled him to get his beloved car on the road and it would have been success for him.  In his view, it would have been the best thing that has ever happened to him.  He has low esteem and confidence so when he does well at something it boosts him. But if things don’t go as planned then we see a fatal pessimistic attitude from him – he firmly believes that the world is against him and that he has ‘bad luck’.

Seeing my son so disappointed, so cross with himself, so sad and negative absolutely tears me apart. But here’s the bitch: I could change his life and put the biggest smile on his face with just one phone call to the insurance company and the boy would be on the road instantly. I could cheer that kid up and make his day. I could be the hero.

But I’m not going to. Instead, I’m going to keep my bank card tucked firmly away in my purse. I’m going to teach my son a lesson in patience, hard work and appreciation. Despite what he’s learnt from, well, let’s just say ‘another household’ we are each responsible for our own luck and here is where Luke starts realising it.

I have said that I’d do anything for my kids. But shell out cash to put smiles on faces, well no, I won’t do that. 

This quote is going on the fridge door immediately 

Puerto Paradise

Back in July the boys’ dad decided that I should take the boys away on an ‘aeroplane’ holiday. Slightly offended that a) he doesn't consider our drives to fun campsites with amazing beaches in southern France good enough and b)he feels at liberty to tell me how to spend my hard earned cash. Anyhow, wanker aside, it did get me thinking about taking my little boys on an adventure.  Not an action expedition adventure, nor anything particularly culturally taxing, but I was thinking more of an adventure of appreciation and discovery. I just wanted a good, old-fashioned beachy family get away.  Ordinarily, lack of cash would have prevented me even looking on icecream.com but this year is no ordinary year.  Having sorted out mum’s finances, there was just enough in the bank to pay for my planned treat.  

So I began to research resorts, scouring endless websites for a European escape that would cater to all of our 11 – 43 year old needs.  This would include somewhere sunny with a bit of life, but not full of drunk chavs (or any chavs for that matter), a modest apartment with pool, pretty natural beaches but also with banana rides for teenagers, rustic food available but with a good choice of restaurants, excursions that everyone would enjoy  and grass. I’m funny like that and when I’m lying around a pool with my Mateus and my book I don’t want it to be on concrete. Just one of my standards, shall we say. Anyway, I found all of the above. In one place. And right on the money. Puerto Pollensa, Mallorca ticked all of our boxes. And I swung wildly between clicking ‘buy’ and feeling utterly guilt ridden at spending my mum’s money on something that she would never enjoy. It felt wrong, disrespectful and I lost sleep apologising to her for continuing with life. But of course, kind friends told me that it’s exactly what she would have wanted me to do: take the children on an adventure, spend time together, laugh, eat well, take photos and make memories.

With the dawning realisation that this is the final year all three boys will be in school, the decision to ‘buy’ was a no-brainer. This may be the last time the four of us go away together at all...

Puerto Pollensa was all that Trip Advisor said it was – pretty, safe, clean, mountains, clear seas and white sand, with lots to do and see on the island. But better than all the stuff was the precious week I spent with my boys, quality time that I just don’t get at home. I learned a lot about all three of them, and their relationships with each other, and I enjoyed their company on a new level. I particularly enjoyed watching my nearly-men drinking the odd beer with dinner but also acting like children in the pool, unaware of the teenage female attention they were attracting (even with the naff temporary tats they bought from the Spar).

And so we took a pebble that had been in our garden and kept it with us as we went around the island. The pebble went to the beach with us, on the boat, to all of the restaurants (our favourite was the Marina Cafe, or ‘the one with free wi-fi’ as was known in our party), to the marina, the Church Square market and even to Aqualand. And on our last evening, full on mojitos and nachos, we (Ellis*) threw our pebble into the bay, where I hope it’s still now, representing our little family, our good times and the very special lady who paid for them.

See, I DID get grass!

The bay where mum's pebble is :)

Pugs and Poses

Friday saw Ellis don his impossibly slim fit suit, meet up with his 15 year old peers and enrol at The Glassworks for their Sixth form courses. Ellis will study, amongst other things, Law as he wants to be a lawyer. Not sure how I feel about that but boy, did he look dapper:

Also, we have a 13 year old Peugeot 106 on the drive, which does not belong to me nor to the other adult in the house but belongs to MY SON! Yep, Luke passed his driving test after only 15 hours of lessons and with two faults only. (To be fair, he has been on the road for a year, mmmeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ing around Folkestone with other trainer-wearing ‘ped users). He sold said moped, saved up his coffers and purchased his first car. And she is a beauty, as far as first cars go – she’s low mileage, FSH and very few body marks. But of course she cannot be driven anywhere as Luke can’t afford the insurance.  So he can only occasionally sit in her, listen to his bombastic ghetto blastastic- something-or-other and get out again. Bless.

Such is his keenness to get the beast on the road there isn’t anywhere in a 15 mile radius that he hasn’t applied for a job to.  You name it; cafes, the Co-op, Wickes, Ralph ‘Lorren’ and even Trev’s Cycle Centre, whom I’m guessing has a comprehensive range of employee benefits (company bike and extended inner tube warranty, anyone?) And so it was with great excitement that he was summoned to DIY emporium B&Q  on Friday for an ‘interview’. Which lasted three hours, involved serving live (and quite probably totally bewildered) customers on the shop floor, a team building exercise and an extensive grilling in a one to one interview – all for a part time job stacking pots of Pink-a-Boo paint and lugging 4-be-4 around. So, I was impressed, both that he got through the day without rejection and with B&Q’s recruitment policy. We had similar at TTA as I remember; yeah, yeah, good keyboard skills are great but can you make a good cuppa and get the deli order correct?  ;)

And so we wait. Wait to hear if my son will begin a career where he has to wear the world’s biggest name bag and will FINALLY get to drive his own car. And we look forward to Ellis busting out his catalogue poses every morning in his very slender, shiny suit. 

The One Where I Started It Again

So this is awkward. Four years after posting my last blog and here I am, casually adding to it, hoping that nobody will notice that my little boys have grown into six footers, who hold their own NI numbers and driving licences...A lot has changed in four years, so this blog is like a before and after (except without Gok and my make over shots will probably not be so kind).

And it’s precisely the fact that time IS flying that I've made the decision to start capturing the events, funnies, plans, angst and memories.  It’s not a surprise that my own life pretty much has revolved around the boys’ for the last 17 (ahem) years, which is my choice and a choice I’m happy with. I love being mum. And the boys are all off busy doing ‘life’ (yes, lying in a pit with the curtains closed until 1pm watching Two and Half Men, with one eye on FB, DOES constitute as being ‘busy’ I’m told), I want to get some of the good stuff down for them to read later.

So, four years, here’s the speed version:

• We eventually did move house and now live in the one featured in the last post. Because of our house number we affectionately call it ‘The Orals’.
• Within a week of moving I accepted a job at the local secondary school as Learning Support, which was a drop in pay but a rise in satisfaction.
• Four became five as we all started our lives residing With A Man. Books were bought and digested about how to make that adjustment, sharp intakes of breath were heard as the fumblings of what was considered appropriate, or otherwise, was worked out.  And we lost our garage to lots of bikes and accompanying ‘stuff’.
• Our beloved Ollie now rests in the back garden under a heart-shaped jasmine :(
• Luke and Ellis are in Sixth Form.
• Max has started secondary school.
• My sister had a baby!
• I turned 40 (gulp) and tasted life outside of Europe.
• I broke my back (yes, really)
• And my heart also broke, as we lost my wonderful, beautiful mum and the boys’ funny, generous nan. Life changed forever.    

That's it, in a nutshell. I'll attempt to fill in the blanks as I go. So this is for you, boys, to read how to and how not to parent, how to enjoy and appreciate the finer [free] things in life and what made me laugh my socks off whilst you were finding your way in this crazy world. 

                                          Before:

                                          

                                         After: