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Saturday, 30 June 2012

It's raining, it's pouring

I love the rain. I suspect it's because I'm Northern, and when you grow up in the Lake District you kind of have to like the rain, or you'll be permanently miserable.


Today we spent some time with friends and then went to a 'pick your own' strawberry place and did some picking of our own. And a fair bit of eating of our own. 


Just as we paid the weather turned from a warm day with a fair amount of sun to torrential rain - like buckets of water were being emptied by the dozen. 


I do love me some rain. So rather than hiding with everyone else under shelter we made a dash for it - threw the kids into the car laughing, Daddytwo leapt in - and I stood where I was. 


I closed my eyes, lifted my face and let myself get soaked. Sometimes you need a bit of rain to wash the dust off a day. Like a plant wilting in the heat, I sometimes just like to get rained on. 


I love rain.

Next time it rains like that I'm dancing in it.



http://sarameyer.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/standing-in-the-rain-2.jpg

Friday, 29 June 2012

St Paul's Cathedral.

This is an allegory, innit.



A lot of times in my life I've wondered how I got myself into dark, nasty places, with dark, nasty people and wondered how I could get out. Those dark, nasty people wanted me to believe I couldn't, and that that was as good as life was going to get. 

I never wanted to believe them, but it's really hard to believe, when you're at the bottom, and drowning in darkness and loneliness, that there's anything else in the world.

It's hard to see the light, and to believe in your own strength, and to strive for more when you're surrounded by 'no' and 'can't' and 'impossible'.

The thing is, deep down, I really don't believe in 'no' or 'impossible'. Some things are pretty damned improbable, but impossible is quite rare. 

Someone once told Sir Christopher Wren, and all his builders, that a domed roof was impossible. Tosh, said he, and he bloody did it anyway. All knowledge, all science, all engineering before that point PROVED that what he planned to do was impossible. It just could not happen.

But look. There it is. And it has been for nearly 350 years. That slaps impossible right in the face, doesn't it? 

I once came very close to believing, entirely, that there was no way up from the despair I was living in. Then it got worse. 

Then a was given a bit of a shake, and told to man the fook up, unless I really believed that was it, and that was all I could be.

So man the fook up I did. Now I'm somewhere a very long way from that dark place. Now I'm in a very happy place. 

I have a beautiful family, and a wonderful husband who (though I may nag) is a far better man than I ever thought I would be lucky enough to marry. I have two beautiful children who give me laughter, joy and excitement every single day. Even on the bad days. They delight me. 

I have a great job where I'm learning a lot of new things, where I'm surrounded by people I really like, and I have a network of friends who are honestly just the best people you could ever hope to know. And they all seem to quite like me too, so maybe I'm not entirely vile.

Now and then I have a wobble. I wonder if I'm missing something, if I should be striving for more, and forget how incredible right now is. 

Then you stand, at mightnight, in the rain, looking at St Paul's Cathedral. And you know. Everything is perfect. Everything is perfect right now. Everything is perfect because once, a long time ago, in a dark and scary place, someone told me I'd never achieve anything, never be happy, never be liked. 

That person was wrong. A lot of people were wrong. Maybe they're wrong about you too.

St Paul's Cathedral proves it. Sometimes you just need to stand still in the rain and look. 

Thursday, 28 June 2012

Famous Five

I've been tagged in a meme. It's called the famous five meme and isn't, disappointingly, a list of my favourite famous five books. 


Instead I am to list five celebrities that I have been told I look like - and whether or not the comparison is flattering. 


SAHDandproud tagged me, the arse, because I said that someone once said I looked like Su Pollard. 


The image I was rocking at the time that particular comparison was made was - as you can see in the TERRIBLE photo below - a little extreme. Su Pollard and Sinead O Connor were the names bellowed at me as I strutted around the Lake District pretending I was hard. It wasn't even just for a dare. I had that shaved head for two years. 







As it grew out I kept the, erm, stylish glasses and became instead Deirdre Barlow. It was worryingly accurate. I was NOT an attractive teenager.


But since those days I haven't been compared to many celebrities, aside from at work where they said I remind them of Sarah Millican (they tried to take it back by saying it was less how I looked, more the way I speak, but that didn't help)


So I asked Twitter to help me fill the gaps in the meme. Below is the list of people twitter thinks I look like.


Katy Perry (I wish)


That bird from Evanescence 

Charles Manson


Mary Poppins

Jessica Hynes

Of those I think I'm most offended by Mary Poppins. Goody two shoes! 

For the record, the photo they saw of me to base these comparisons on is this one - which also, strangely, looks nothing like me, though it is of me.


So who have you been told you look like? Were you flattered? Offended? Confused? The Meme originated on Tom Briggs' blog 'Diary of the Dad'  which is worth a read for the giggles anyway, so hop over and comment, innit.

For the rules of the meme I now have to tag three more people, so I'mma taggle 

@MotherScuffer 
@Laureninsuffolk
@Rachelgully

Go!



Wednesday, 27 June 2012

Tell me about your day?

How was it? Did you get up early? Sleep in? Nice breakfast? Was it busy? What did you get up to? 


Enough of that. I'mma tell you about OUR day. There's going to be poo.


It began long before it was actually day - looooooooong before. I was really tired last night so actually went to bed at half seven - but that didn't really work out for me. 


Within minutes Jellybean was crying for me. I went through, gave him some juice, settled him down. Then Midget Gem woke up screaming. I went through the same routine with him, then climbed back into bed, half an hour after the time I wanted to be asleep.


Then Jellybean woke up, and wanted to come into my bed, where he threw a very loud tantrum because he wanted to share my pillow, but it was too big, and I was in the way, but he wanted me to be on the pillow with him, but not touching him. 


Then Midget Gem woke up because he wanted to shout at me and hit me in the face.


Then Jellybean wanted me to carry him back to his own bed, and give him my pillow, but not take his own pillow away. 


Then Midget Gem woke up, because he wanted to lie in my bed directly on top of me with his face against my face, shouting at me and attempting to bite me whenever I moved. 


Then Jellybean woke up, because he wanted to be in my bed too. Both wanted to lie directly on top of me. Neither wanted to touch me. Or each other, but both wanted to lie in the exact same spot. (On top of me) 


That was how the entire night went, until 5 this morning when they decided that actually they were going to get up, which meant that I had to get up.


So that was a nice start to the day!


Then The Whine began. 


"Mummy I want Wonderpets, Mummy I need juice, Mummy I want toast, Mummy I need weetabix, Mummy I want the PINK PLATE, Mummy I want, Mummy I need, MUMMY MUMMY MUMMY"


"Diooosh, dioooooooooosh, Mumny, Mumny, diooooosh, bootttt, booott" (juice, juice, me, me, juice, book, book) 


And it didn't stop. Apart from when they napped - which they took it in turns to do all day.


Midget Gem woke covered head to toe in a rash. Jellybean had a cough. Both had a temperature. These ingredients combined to create a lurgy ridden mix that nursery wouldn't allow through the door so I had to call work and take the day off. 


Since they got up I have had every single bodily fluid that exists on me somewhere. We have all repeatedly got changed. It is revolting. Snot, blood, poo, wee, vomit. All. 


Jellybean coughed up a massive blob of mucus then gagged on it and vomited. 


Midget Gem did a poo so immense that it made him scream as it FIRED from his nappy in every direction - KA POW, poo BOMB, BOOM, splat, etc. All over. All over him, the floor, the sofa, the books we had been reading, and me. 


It took some considerable effort to clean him, and me, and the entire room. Once I had he was standing in front of me all naked whilst I tried to convince him to stay still long enough to strap another nappy around him. He came over for a cuddle, gave me a kiss, then looked me right in the eye as he peed all over my legs. 


Then Jellybean was sick on me some more.


They both sweated and wiped snot all over me during afternoon cuddles, watching cartoons ("I want WONDERPETS, no PINGU, NO WONDERPETS") 


They've been in bed for an hour. So far Jellybean has shouted me three times, Midget Gem twice.



How was your day?

Monday, 25 June 2012

And THEN

So today was my first day back in real life after a funking awesome weekend, and it is also the first day that Daddytwo is away with work. One down, two to go! 


I managed to get through a full day at work without falling asleep curled up on my desk and to get home despite them removing the top layer of the road. 


I got home at the same time as the boys were being dropped home by the Nanny - she filled me in on their day (she took them to MONKEY WORLD, the lucky little monsters!) then I was trying to find my way through the inexplicable mess into the kitchen when I heard them mention a chicken in the garden. 


I thought they were being silly because there ARE no chickens in the back garden. There are quails, in their pen thingumy, but the chickens are clearly in the front garden in the chicken pen. 

Apart from the one in the back garden. 



So I chased the chicken, whilst the Nanny and her friend watched and laughed at me. Apparently if I'm laughing it's ok to laugh because it's funny. For the record - I wasn't LAUGHING - I was trying to cover the 'help me or I will FIRE YOU' rage.


Once I'd chased Miss Chicken back into her pen I saw that one was, somehow, stuck between the two fences (fox protection pro!) and another was standing on the roof of the hutch, demonstrating how the other two had escaped. 


And then I moved the hutch, which weighs a ton. 


And then I came inside, cleared a patch of kitchen to make dinner and fed us all huge plates of scrambled eggs. (Just to remind MotherVenting and SAHDandproud that is with smoked salmon and capers - because I am considerably posherer than them) It was like revenge.


And then I ran a nice bath to drop Jellybean and Midget Gem into, because they were covered in eggs and I needed to get it out of their hair before it set into cement.


And then Midget Gem did a poo in the bath.


And then trying to get to him to fish the poo away and stop him playing with it I slipped on the puddle where he'd thrown a jug of water out of the bath, and I fell in. To the bath. On top of the boys. 


And then I dried myself off, cleaned the poo off myself and the boys, and the bath.


And then I managed to get them into PJs and read them a story, and have a few minutes where it was actually lovely.



And then I got them into their beds, managing to only be hit in the face with two books and only bitten once.


And then I had to clean the kitchen. 


And then I had to feed all the chickens and quails, and I got poo on me again.


And then I made a cup of tea, and sat down. 


And then the baby started to cry. 


See you tomorrow! 

Sunday, 24 June 2012

You don't need to get it - but you should!

This weekend was the Britmum's Live conference - the biggest, shiniest blogging conference evah. 


I spoke to a lot of people before I went - people I know 'in real life' - and they didn't get it. There was a lot of smiling at me and my little hobby - some worry about meeting people 'off the internets' and the fact that online friendships aren't 'real' friendships - because they aren't real people.


To be honest, almost everyone I know 'in real life' doesn't get it. They don't get twitter either. They don't see what I can get out of it, and think that I'm a bit of a dork, and kind of disfunctional, for spending so much time blogging and tweeting. Particularly tweeting. I do that a massive amount. 


They don't get it.


I have tried to explain it. Dorkymum explained twitter well on her blog post that she read to the crowds yesterday. That sort of explained what I get out of it.


When I interact online what I get is friends - friends who are there all the time. They are like the greatest support network and best party of your life in one place. They care, you care, they share, you share. I know more about my friends online than I do almost everyone I see or speak to on a daily basis in real life. (Sometimes I know too much - I'm talking to YOU Ministry of Mum!) 


Then you have blogging - where you get to share experiences in more detail, and people really care some more, and talk some more, support and laugh and share some more. 


Then you have meet ups and tweet ups and things like these conferences - which really, really ARE the best party you've never been to - you're missing out. 


I have had bad experiences online, and think that anyone who is 'on the internet' will do so - but I had those in real life too. I'm marmite. 


But way, way more than that I've found hundreds and hundreds of people like me- people who get it, who just get it. 


People who I really love speaking with - people I have mountains in common with. People who know I'm being affectionate when I call them the C word and tell them they have ugly shoes. People who make me laugh, people I make laugh, people - just people.


Behind every single computer screen or phone or tablet (or what ever!) there is another person - a real, actual person - who is tweeting or blogging. Some of those people are off of the telly, or politicians, or do some singing for cash - some are sports stars, some are The Famous. Some are parents, some are bin men, some are doctors, some are scientists, some are no hoper wannabies, some are nice, some are not. Most are. 


Most of all, they are real, actual people that you can really, actually speak to. Twitter is a leveller - it gives you the chance to converse with literally ANYONE. Anyone who gets it, that is. 


If you don't get it that's ok - but it isn't that I'm odd because I do - it's just that you're missing out. All those people you could be sharing experiences, intelligent conversation, talking about poo to (that might just be me) all those people who care about the things you care about - and you could be really getting to know them, and enjoying their company. 


Best of all - I don't even have to brush my hair or put on a bra - they'll never know! 


http://www.studentportal.hv.se/dynamaster/image_archive/original/c77d92356d09f2cce28a649b5f3c5add.jpg
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