Snow Angel

Silent Sunday

See the others here.

Dear me - Part deux

In my last post I felt very lost and alone.

In this post I will be explaining why today, I feel the exact opposite!

Bipolar is a funny thing.

It's not something you can freely talk about for the most part. People don't understand. Mostly, and even from the OH, I get 'Are you on your period or something?' This annoys me beyond belief.

I get the comments like 'Just take some happy pills',  'It can't be that bad' and 'It's just depression' and of course there are my personal faves 'It's only a phase, we all go through it at some point' and 'Snap out of it'
Brilliant. Remind me to call you when I'm having moments of despair and panic attacks, for your very comforting and supportive words, that should pull me right on through.

Thankfully, this week bought with it some exciting news!
I will be attending CyberMummy on 25th June 2011 in London.
Now this, in its own right is worthy of all of my excitement flooding out of me in one fell swoop, but Monday morning, Drew and I woke up and decided to make the most of it (The lure of our very first overnighter without the kids was too much) and get hitched the day before the conference!

So having made that very impromptu decision, we contacted our local registry office and booked the date and time of our wedding!

It's taken us ten years and 4 children to come to this decision, but hey, all good things come to those who wait, right?.. Well, let's hope so.

These two HUGE events in my life (Sorry to all of you romantics out there, but I do rate these events equally huge and exciting) have bought about the hyper side of my Bipolar. I'm now whizzing about like an out of control spinning top.

Some may think that this is brilliant, that I'm happy and excited and to a certain extent, it is. I mean, I do like feeling happy and I love feeling excited, but the down side is that Bipolar takes these feelings to the extreme.

Sleeping is a no go area. My brain is far too hyperactive. My body is exhausted. I mean, really exhausted.
Bipolar pushes you to your limits in every way and breaks through the boundaries of feelings you never thought you as a person would feel.

I have yet to find a way of 'balancing' these emotions and instead I seem to cycle through them at an alarming rate.

But for now I am content being happy and excited and will begin my preparations for next year.

Dear Me..

I know very little about myself.

I've never taken a gap year, or travelled the world. I've taken very few risks in my life.

I aim to please others. I don't know why. It's not that I want everyone I meet to 'like' me (Although, does anyone set out to not want people to like them?!)

I aim to please those closest to me. To do this, I've put myself into positions that I really didn't want to be in just to make the people I care about most, happy.

I flit. I drift dangerously between being a 'worrier' and an 'optimist'.

I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, a partner and most importantly, a mother.

These are the few things I know.
Other things have been lost through the years.

Many close to me don't notice the sacrifices that I have made over the years for them. Maybe I come across as a doormat with the world 'Welcome' printed across my forehead. And that wouldn't be their fault. It would most definitely be mine.

I'm not sure why I do it.. Really - I don't have a clue.
I'm not scared of saying 'No'. I'm not frightened that I will lose certain people if I put my foot down.

It doesn't make me happy to put others first in everything I do.

If I want to do something for myself, I feel guilty. It's huge immense guilt.

I fee sick at the thought of taking something away from my family, be it time or money.

In reality, I need to take some of that for me. I know this. However, instead, I continue to struggle, as I know it will not be compensated for.

I have some strong opinions.
Opinions of how I should raise my children.
I have opinions about friendship, family, love and religion.

These opinions shape me, but they don't make me.

I've never tried to 'find myself' like some do.
What if I don't like what I find? Can I change myself? Can I forget what I find and search for a new and improved me?

What if I look and I don't find anything? Or what if I find the 'me' I love so much, that it changes everything?

It's easier not to look. It's easier to carry on and not rock the boat.

There's always so much going on to take time out.

One day, maybe, I'll take the plunge. One day, maybe I'll find myself. One day, maybe I'll be completely happy.

For now I will do my best to carry on and put a smile on my face and hope that one day, maybe I'll just feel 'normal' again.

Catch up

I've been rushed off my feet recently, what with work and the kids and everything that goes with being a mummy of 4 with a house to run, blah, blah, blah..

The bipolar, which I thought I was finally starting to get a handle on, gave me one truly devastating kick up the arse and knocked me for six for a couple of weeks.

The diet that I was doing so well with, crashed and burned as the weather turned colder and wetter and any energy that I could muster was spent shoveling an extensive amount of crap into my mouth.

I'm only now just starting to manage to peel myself off of the sofa again and get back out into the big bad world. The panic attacks have returned, making this no easy feat.

I have been trying my hand at a bit of extra curricular activity recently too. If you follow my other blog, you will know what I'm talking about, and if you don't, why the hell not?? Get on over there and have a look!
www.lifethruasippycup.blogspot.com

I'm pushing myself to get back on track and start living my life again.
This week, I went to the cinema with Drew and also had my first girlie night in ages, got drunk and danced very publicly, like a complete idiot to Michael Jackson's 'Smooth Criminal' (long story!).

Next week, I will be going out for coffee with some friends, talking weddings (eek!) going swimming, and taking some long walks.

Wish me luck, I'm going to need it.

Blognonymous - A response

I am writing this in response to a beautifully honest Blognonymous post on the lovely Jay's blog, Mocha Beanie Mummy
The title of this post was 'Warning-Dead baby alert' and you can find it here.


I have had mixed reactions writing / talking about this subject. And it is only recently that I have started to talk about it.

Like the anonymous lady who wrote the post, I too have glossed over details and put a smile on my face and tried to put it to the back of my mind. But why should parents, like us, be made to feel guilty or wrong by speaking up about our experiences?

We don't comment on others blogs regarding their 'perfect' birth stories or doting mother style posts about their great lives with their fabulous living children. We respect them. We comment (if desired) appropriately, while hiding our grief that we never got to enjoy those feelings or have those memories with our own child/ren.

If you don't want to read a post containing a taboo subjects, don't read it.
What I, and I suspect many other parents of children who are no longer with us, would give to be able to just hit that little red 'X' at the top of our screens and close down those words. Those thoughts and feelings, as if they had never happened.

A blog is a personal space, for which we should be able to write whatever we want to. The definition of a blog is

'A website that allows users to reflect, share opinions, and discuss various topics in the form of an online journal'                                        

We invite people to read these blogs. Not for all the 'followers' (well, I certainly don't anyway) Not to 'show off' or publicise ourselves. Many, like me invite people to read their blogs, simply to feel alive. To feel like a real person in the world and sometimes, just sometimes, when writing posts like the Blognonymous one mentioned above, inspire, strengthen and help others by speaking up about our horrific experiences, as well as our great.

I have nothing but admiration for these people. Their strength helps me to continue along my path and know that I am not alone in my experiences, good or bad.

Brand new blog!

Guess what?! I have a brand spanking new sparkly blog!!!


I will still be updating Falling Starlett, (and I know I haven't updated here for a while but that's because I've been busy creating my new blog!)

So click this link and follow the new blog, Life through a Sippy cup!

The new blog is more about the kids and family life then Falling Starlett is, so go check it out and read through the new posts!

Kez xx

Thought for the week..

This one is doing the rounds via Email, but I liked it, so thought I would share!

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck.
One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.
At the end of the long walks from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water..
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.
But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.
After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream.
'I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.'
The old woman smiled, 'Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?'
'That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them..'
For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table.
Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.'
Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.
You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them.
SO, to all of my cracked pot friends, have a great day and remember to smell the flowers on your side of the path!

Savvy savings..

Like most young family's, we pretty much live pay cheque to pay cheque.

We have a savings account in which we put some of our hard earned cash into each month. Not as much as I'd have liked, but it's there all the same and it does make a big difference.

We also have a Christmas fund, making the annual event a whole lot less stressful, especially given the amount of people we have to buy for at that time of year.

We also have a Tesco Club Card, a Nectar Card, a Boot Advantage Card and we collect the in store food stamps at Tesco, Sainsburys and Iceland to help with the ever mounting costs of a growing family.

I avidly look for ways of saving money where ever I can. The following site has truly been a life saver at times and I want to share it all with you.

The lovely Martin Lewis at MSE is an invaluable source of knowledge!

It will take you months to get through all of the brilliant money saving tips and ideas on the site and I can't express enough just how wonderful it is.

Martin is also the author/editor of some brilliant money saving books.

This site really does cover everything that you could possibly want to try and save money on and includes all of the latests offers and discounts from food to days out to holidays and weddings. You name it, someone on Martin's site has covered it!

Go and check it out today.. now in fact! I guarentee it will save you money somewhere.
And while you're there, sign up for the free weekly emails which are packed full of yet more money saving ideas.

Criticism

Following on from my last blog post, you will know that I'd received some nasty comments from an 'Anonymous' person, who is apparently a parent of a child who goes to my children's school.

This person obviously doesn't know me very well, judging my their comments.

I do not seek public approval. Or approval from anyone in fact.
I will gladly take criticism, when it is due.

If this person was so very concerned about mine or my children's behaviour, why write an anonymous comment? Why not come and see me face to face? Or send me a message?

Clearly this person has some kind of distorted view of me and my family. And I would be more then happy to discus any genuine concerns that this person may have.

I am a good person, and a good mother. I have nothing to hide. I do not claim to be perfect.
These are the messages sent to me by this person.

Fed very well? Isn't it you who is always tweeting about feeding your baby cocktail sausages and burgers? Full of salt? Which you aren't supposed to include in any child's diet under the age of 1 year!?
Wotsits as a breakfast staple?
4 types of carbs in one meal - what was it? Wedges, pasta, yorkshire puddings, and I forget the other. Again, all processed crap.
No food in the house when you return from holidays.
I sit, aghast, reading your tweets and wonder how long it will be before one of them ends up with kidney failure

Now just to point out that the above comment is partly true. Although, this would of course assume that I never home make any of my children's meals.

I did indeed tweet last week while on holiday about Wotsists being a breakfast staple. This was not a literal statement. I do not let my children eat Wotsists for breakfast. They had already had cereal and toast that morning, but had been up very early and were hungry again and asked for a bag of the aforementioned crisps.

Again, 'Anon' was correct in saying that I provided several types of carbs in one meal. However, this was not for all of my children, this was for the baby, who at 9months old is still getting to grips with weaning and prefers 'proper' food as apposed to pureed. I had given him lots of different things (not just carbs) to try at this particular meal time to see what he liked. All but the pasta was homemade I might add.

The 'No food in the house following holiday' tweet was again correct. This did only refer to me as I am on a diet and my other half hadn't shopped for my diet. The children were very well catered for.

Another comment from this person:

Not printing my acurate comments though hey Kerry.
Hum, no I don't post on just anyone's blogs, just people whose kids go to my kids' school and whose behaviour I am very concerned about.
I couldn't 'unfollow' you as I am not on Twitter, just managed to track you down on here as you are very easy to find - desperate for public approval, and eager to comment on others' behaviour but unable to take criticism when it is deserved. You have admitted it is deserved by not printing my previous comments.

While some of your comments were accurate, they were not in context.

Oh and just so you know, I do not sit at the computer all day, the wonderful thing about technology is that you can keep up with the world on the move. Handy little things, iPhone's and the like are.. It means I can post updates from where ever I am, be it the park, a holiday site, or my home. It literally takes seconds and I can do this while getting on with my daily routines.

Like I said, I have nothing to hide, I do my best, like all mothers.
And like I often say, I'm not perfect, who is?
I give my children the odd sweet and bag of crisps. I let them watch cartoons and play video games. I even buy them McDonald's every now and then. And hell while I'm at it, I'll admit that I drive a people carrier, I don't grow my own veggies and my tumble dryer is on most days regardless of the weather..

Start as you mean to go on..

..Fuck I hope not!

I'll set the scene for you.

It's a wet, windy and stupidly cold August Monday morning.
Last night was bad. All 4 kids woke more then once each which is not the norm, so I'm mega tired.
I have a migraine. The kind that makes you feel you as if you have been hit by a train.
I can barely open my eyes through the pain, and when I do all I can see are coloured spots, like someone has been taking flash photography.

Drew leaves for the Doctor's surgery to have his stitches removed before going in to work.
I reluctantly pull myself from my bed and throw on some clothes. As I begin to walk down the stairs, the following happens.

CRASH...BANG...THUD... SMASH

I feel disorientated as I hear the screaming coming from the kitchen.

I run to the living room and am greeting my my 6 year old. She's wet. She's shouting above her sisters' cries.

I make my way past her to the kitchen. The scene that greets me is chaotic. The 5 and 3 year olds are standing there shouting and screaming and crying.. They are both wet too.

I carefully lift them over the carnage that once resembled my kitchen. They are both shaken, but unhurt.

The floor resembles the shallow end of a swimming pool, but it is not water across the floor, it is oil.

It seems that the numerous tellings off and trips to the naughty step for the 6 year old have not paid off.

She decided to climb on top of the the chest freezer, using my washing basket (full to over flowing with last weeks dirty holiday clothes) as a step and then to stop herself from falling back down, she heaved herself up on the steel utility shelving above which housed the following items:

A set of 3 Le Creuset pans, a 6L slow cooker, 2 measuring jugs, AND a deep fat fryer.

The full basket of clothes have had to be thrown out. They were drenched in oil. They are gone.

My wash basket. Destroyed.

The utility shelves, gone, along with some of the plaster from the wall.

The fryer is still in pieces, yet to be considered salvageable or not.

Luckily the pans survived, although one of their lids didn't.

The slow cooker is OK

The jugs. Gone.

The kitchen floor will be OK. However, for now it will be used as an ice rink as I just cannot get the greasiness off.

The beige living room carpet is another right off. There are now 4 sets of oily foot prints clearly visible making their way from the kitchen.

To say that I am angry would be the understatement of the decade. The amount of money it is going to cost us to put this mess right is immense.

It has taken me 4 hours to clean it up and it is still not 100% finished. I have used 6 whole rolls of kitchen towel half a bottle of washing up liquid and a full bottle of bleach to try and remove the greasy feeling from the vinyl, with little success.

Don't get me wrong, I am relieved that none of the children were injured, really I am.

But I am ready to kill today.. In fact I don't know how I have managed to control myself.

My chest is hurting, I have cried and my migraine isn't any better, but I've had to cope and carry on.

I needed to write this blog to get it off of my chest so that I don't take it out on the kids.

Any tips for the floor would be very much appreciated!!!

Potatoes are made from sheep..

I'm stressing that I haven't even begun to pack for our week long trip to Kent.
We leave on Monday, and I have yet to get the cases down from the attic!

I decided that a very quick, trashy dinner would do for the kids and served up some sausages and Alphabites.
The kids all love Alphabites, they love to spell their names out on their plates, so who am I to argue?
It's an educational dinner, right?

Then it happened. Out of the blue, the 5 year old turns to me and says
"What's this made from?"
Holding up a half eaten Alphabite.
I reply with
"Potato"

"Yeah, but what is it?"
"Potato!".
"Yes Mum, I know, but what's it really made of? Is it sheep?"
"What?"
"Is this made of sheep?"
"Huh? No!It's potato!"
"But it's white and fluffy"
"That's what potatoes look like!"
She turns to her sister, and mutters
"Ah, so it is sheep!"

Me *sharp intake of breath, closes open mouth and walks away in disbelief*

Parks, picnics and 17 kids..

Today, we had a 'Ghost Hill School' meet up at a local park.

Che, in his new O'baby Stroller

I loaded up Che's new O'Baby stroller (which I bloody love, by the way!) with picnic food, beakers, changing bag, potty, rugs and of course the camera and off we set for the 25min walk to the park.

When we arrived, there were quite a few of our fellow comrades there waiting for us.

After a quick head count, I realised that we had 17 children with us aged between 9months and 8 years old, with 7 adults supervising!

Out came the sun, and the picnic blankets and a whole hoard of food!

There was laughter and happiness in the air. All the kids got on and there wasn't a single fight.








All of the babies managed a little nap under the shade of a big tree, as the older kids climbed another.

Alice, Hannah, Ava, Lauryn and Jacob

I  really couldn't have asked for a better day.
To be able to share it with so many of my friends and their families was the icing on the cake.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
And I've now got some fab photo's and memories to boot!

Ashley

Nathan and Che, the babies of the group

Cheeky little Rocco

Not for the easily offended..

As my bipolar cycles kick into overdrive, I have come to realise that no one is safe when I am at the top of my 'game'.

It seems that I turn into some crazed wild animal, ready to pounce upon my prey at a seconds notice.

It really is a need. An obsessive, compulsive itch that must be scratched.

I don't want meaningful 'love' making, I need rough, hard, give it to me right now hot kinda sex.
Once is never enough.

I feel incredibly powerful, and sexy. I'd even go as far as to say irresistible. (?!)

The need to be touched and paid attention to, is acutely strong.

My persona distinctly changes and I become this seriously over confident, lustful, nymphomaniac.
I wear out my poor other half, who doesn't know what the hell has hit him, and I still want more!

I have no control over this. Seriously. I have tried to curb my 'enthusiasum' to little or no effect.

I am frustrated beyond belief. And nothing helps.

I feel like I've been torn in two. Mild schizophrenia or something?
One day I am Kerry, mother of 4, dowdy housewife. The next, I'm Kerry, filth for brains, sex crazed MILF!!!

Apparently, or so my Doctor says, this is completely normal for someone like myself who suffers with such intense cycles of Bipolar. I have been told to 'go with the flow' and to 'play out my fantasies'

The problem is, it's not about 'fantasy' it's simply about the urgent need to have huge bouts of sex. Over and over and over again.

I find people, in general more sexy. More appealing and attractive. I find talking about sex easier.
Of course, I would never, EVER, even for one second contemplate anyone but Drew. (Well, there is 'The List' obviously, but everyone has one of them. The unlikely chance meeting of a overly perfect hot celeb when you can have one night and not answer for it..)

Is it unrealistic of me to want to have that kind of great 'got to have it, rough, dirty' kind of sex that you see in the movies? (and I'm not talking porn here people)
The kind of sex which leaves you both feeling drained and breathless and glowing.

Now, I'm not saying for a moment, that the sex I do have isn't up to standard, believe me I have no issues on that score! But it's a different kind of fulfilment. A different itch which needs to be scratched in a particular way.

Maybe it is all about fantasy after all..

Release

I am writing this post for the beautiful Josie's Writing Workshop.
I have chosen the prompt : Release.

The empty pages before me are crying out to be bought to life.
A little doodle here, a phone number there. They don't mind how you resurrect them.

I have a passion for bettering myself. Well at least trying to.
I try to be creative. I try not to be disheartened when I realise that my efforts aren't in anyway close to those around me. I just concentrate on the feeling of how proud I was that I'd finished something that I wanted to achieve.

Writing this blog is an achievement. I know, it's not much. And I'm very aware that I can not 'write'.
But it's an achievement for me none the less.

When I have time, I like to try my hand at painting. I have painted a few canvas'.
None great, but again I am proud that they are recognised and they are displayed in my living room for all to see.

Music. Music (as it is well documented in this blog) is my most productive form of  release.
It lifts my mood when I'm down and carries me along when I'm soring through the clouds.
It's as if it knows me better then I ever knew myself.

Then there is of course, the one thing that unites the world. It's a renowned feel-good measure.Sex.
Break up sex, make up sex. Meaningful sex and even a sordid 'quicky' in the back of a car..

Many things release me from the cage that I have become trapped in over recent years, and I am so very grateful for the occasional break.

This page has now been born again.
Like a Phoenix rising from it's flames. It's beautiful. It's colourful and it will last forever.
I have been released from my cage of entrapment once again.

My Last Fight..

So, I haven't blogged much recently.
I have been busy. Really, REALLY busy.

I have been feeling totally overwhelmed by life over the past couple of weeks.
I can't breath. I'm being 'water boaded' and never left to rest.

I know that to some of you, that statement sounds 'dramatic' and 'violent' but it truly sums up my present feelings. And if you have ever suffered from severe depression, you will probably know where I'm coming from.

I feel like I'm drowning, being held down under the water for soo long, I give up.
But just as soon as I give in to this feeling, something pulls me to the surface just long enough to gasp for air before holding me back down again.

The icy water, makes me feel numb and my chest burns from my last solitary breath.
I have tried to keep up appearances, to show a 'happy' face to those who know me. To say "I'm fine.." when asked, but really, I'm not.

This world is plotting against me with an awesome force.
It never gets easier.
Grey turns into black, sun turns into rain, joy turns into pain.

Cruel, evil powers are at force and I am paralyzed. I cannot fight them, they have dug their claws in too deep.

It's too late for me. I have been over powered.
I will battle against that final breath to keep 'them' away from my children. I will not let 'them' take my precious family.

You may have won the battle, but you will never win the war. I will fight you 'til my death, and haunt you 'til yours.

I am clinging on. Waiting for that gasp of air, longing to feel the burn in my lungs.
Hoping beyond hope, that this will not be my last fight.

Beauty is everywhere

This weeks Gallery theme is 'Nature'

I have a couple of photos. They are of my 5 year old daughter, Ashley Jay.

She has the most amazing blue eyes and the cutest curls that tumble down around her face.
She is, in my eyes, a natural beauty.

I snapped these on a beautiful, sunny day in our garden.

Gorgeous clear blue skies overhead, with the odd sprinkling of fluffy pure white cloud.

You can't get a more peaceful, stunning photo of 'nature' then that.

I hope you enjoy these as much as I LOVE them.

(I have had them blown up big and are going to be placed in my living room!)

Inception, the beginning of the end?

This week, Drew and I celebrated our 10th anniversary.
To celebrate, we went for a meal and then to the cinema to see the new much raved about movie, Inception.

I have to admit. I was dubious.
I'm not the biggest Leonardo Di Caprio fan in the world, which put me off at the very start.
However, the story line intrigued me. Planting ideas into someones mind, via appearing in their dreams.. Sounds great, right?

WRONG!

The story line was made overly complicated, to make it sound better then it was, by giving you a head ache trying to keep up.

The special effects that have 'hyped' up the film since it opened, were absolutely nothing compared to the likes of The Matrix.

It's all been seen before. It was certainly nothing new or special. It didn't live up to all the hype and excitement that is surrounding it. The acting wasn't brilliant. And it was unnecessarily long.

I was extremely disappointed with this film, and it took 2 and a half hours of my life, of which I can never get back.

Dearest Family..

The end of an era is upon us

Ten year... Ten years it's been since we met.
A decade of ups and downs, hugs and kisses. A decade of love and war, weakness and strength.

10years of you, of me, of us.

Four children. Three beautiful daughters and a handsome son. Our child bearing days are now over.
It's scary. It's all gone so fast.

Finished are the days of sterilized bottles and making formula feeds.

Come October, we will celebrate our last ever 1st birthday.

Where have the days gone? The years have disappeared through the cracks in this imperfect world.

Our hopes and dreams have got lost along the way, our journey - haphazard.

We have arrived at the same destination. Together and stronger then ever.

I wanted to get married this year.
To end our first 10years on a high, having done all of the ground work. Start our next ten years as a fully formed unit.

A building block to our 'new-look' future together.

We are no longer forming a family, we are now shaping one.

Our beautiful, loving, wonderful family.

2010 is the end of an era.

I can't wait to start a new decade, a new life, a new era with you, and our gorgeous children.

Here's to the next ten years together. Full of hope, happiness, fulfilment, love and trust.

I love you all.

Running from the World.

I have been running for a long time now.

Running from the past, and the future and especially the present.

Exhaustion set in a while back.
The feeling of the wind rushing through my hair and the hot sun of my face has kept me going. I don't want to stop. I'm not sure I can.

The past is a funny thing. It shapes you. Makes you the person you are today.
I'm not sure what kind of person I am. I like to think that I'm strong, that I'm a better person. More compassionate. More lenient. Yet still I run.

I want to be in a world that stops for a breath. That's totally uncomplicated. That's free and easy and nurturing.

I crave peace and calm. Space and time.
But time travels faster then me. It runs through my fingers like tiny grains of sand. Slipping away, forever.
I can't catch it up or slow it down. I can't go back and right my wrongs. So I just keep running.

My little world is bright and colourful. It's musical and wondrous.It's peaceful and still. It's Heaven on Earth.
I run to it often. My only escape from the real world that drains me to my very core.

I have been running for a long time.

___________________________________________

This post was written for Josie's Writing Workshop.

For the love of Music

Today I have indulged in my favourite past time.. Music.

I have pretty much all day been plugged into my iPod.

After 6 hours of 'techy' stuff yesterday, trying to get all the songs I wanted put on to the damn thing, I finally got a near perfect 5 hour play list.

Everything from the likes of The Beatles and Michael Bublé to Oasis, Orson, Kelly Clarkson, The Jacksons, Lily Allen and Amy Winehouse!

I loved escaping my life (albeit interrupted, what with school runs, nappies, feeds, and potty training etc)

I had forgotten the immense joy that listening to my favourite music gives me.

My days are filled with being 'Mummy' with Nick Jr. Playhouse Disney and Cbeebies being my daily soundtrack. I have indirectly learnt every single word to every single kids programmes theme tune. That is a very sad fact indeed..

The only time I get to listen to the radio is when I'm in the car. But since the car had been off the road I haven't even had that opportunity.

I feel like I have rediscovered a very small piece of myself today. I realised that I had a little dance in my step and a smile on my face for most of the day.

The kids were happier, I was happier.

You can't beat a good bit of music therapy!

I am going to try and plug myself in to my iPod as much as I can from now on and hope that it gives me the inspiration, happiness and peaceful feeling that it did today.

Thank God for Michael Bublé

Anyone who knows me well, or follows me on Facebook or Twitter will know, that I am shout it from the roof-tops, walking on cloud 9, head over fricking heels in love with the amazing Mr. Michael Bublé.

The man has it all.. The looks. The charm. The personality. The cheeky grin, and of course.. The talent.

Boy, does he have the talent.

Pure effortless, smooth, wondrous, fantabulous talent.

He sings, he dances, he writes, he croons, I swoon.

Ahem..



I've never really been one to 'fancy' celebrities. That is until recently. I have to admit, a couple have caught my eye of late. But Michael is my perfect crush.

It's not a 'desperate housewife' thing. I'm not bored of my other half, I'm not looking for a bedroom fantasy. It's not a sexual thing at all. Although...

Err, Where was I?

Oh yeah, perfect crush..

I am extremely drawn to the man's talent. His voice is mesmerising to me. I crave it. It gives me a complete high, a rush of lust. Like a million tiny hot kisses on the back of my neck that leave me breathless.

He calms me down when I'm manic. He cheers me up when I'm at my lowest. He helps me along, when I'm happy, and gives me feeling when I'm numb. In short, there is nothing this beautiful man couldn't do for me.

This week my bipolar has hit it's cycle hard. It's thrown me skyward to watch me come crashing back down. It's laughed and pointed and smacked me in the face. It's ripped me to pieces and jeered as I've tried desperately to regain myself.

Through all of this, Michael has been there. Grasping my hand as I've scaled the clouds. Catching me before I've hit rock bottom and holding me tight to glue me back together.

He is my fantasy world, which I can escape to when the real world is holding my head firmly under the water.
I listen to him. So elegant and fluid. So rich and smooth. So very relaxing.

He helps me rest and find peace, something that I can't find alone.

This is why I am in love with him.

This is why I thank God for Michael Bublé.

I get so emotional, baby..

This week, Tara's Gallery and Josie's Writing Workshop have joined forces to combine two of my most favourite things in the world. The Gallery and The Writing Workshop have, over the past few weeks really helped me to understand, not only myself,  but my fellow 'Tweeps' and blogger's.

For this I'm very thankful.

To Tara and Josie,

Thank you for you hard work and inspiration.

This weeks joint prompt is 'Emotions'

This is my entry with my chosen emotion: Remorse.

Each time I look at his photo, I feel the knot in my stomach tighten.

How could I not have known? How could I have thought that I..(me?!) knew best?

My gorgeous little girl. So brave. So strong.

Me, her mother. So weak. So pathetic.

The definition of remorse is 'sadness and disgust' These emotions I know all too well.

Remorse, however, is exactly how I feel looking at this.

My darling daughter, with her arm in a sling, having fallen from her bed.

I feel immense sadness that at the tender age of 5 she had to experience that kind of trauma.

I will forever feel disgusted with myself that I waited 2 days before taking her to the hospital to have her checked over.

In my defence, Lauryn could lift her arm over her head, wiggle her fingers and roll her neck. I assumed she had maybe bruised or possibly jarred her shoulder or arm in some way.

I felt sick when the X-ray reveled a clear break in her collar bone.

'See Mummy? I told you it was really hurting' The words that will haunt me forever.

How could I not have seen she was truly in pain? That there was more to her complaints then just bruising?

How could I have been such a terrible Mother?

My sweet, innocent, gorgeous Lauryn. I am so very sorry. Remorse doesn't come close to the agony that I feel everyday knowing that I messed up so royally.

Call it what you want, remorse, shame, despair, horror, torment, anger, guilt... I feel all of these when I look at your loving face.

I can never make this right.

The day that Tinkerbell died.

Today has been a long day.

First off, it rained,.
Beautiful, misty droplets of moisture. That lovely smell. The air, so clear and fresh.

Then the cat jumped through the kitchen window with all the elegance of a herd of Buffalo. His muddy paws danced across the worktop leaving his calling card everywhere.

While clearing up Dave the cat's 'fingerprints', the smoke alarm started wailing.
The 5 year old started screaming, and the 2 year old ran around the living room, hands over her ears doing her best 'nee-naw' impression.
The toast? Well.. The toast was burnt to a cinder.

Toddler calmed down, and 5year old comforted, round two of the battle between me and the toaster began.

The 2year old turned all Peppa Pig on the school run, jumping in every last bit of mud she could find.
Now usually, I don't mind this too much, but in true Peppa-esque sty-lee she laid down in the biggest mud puddle she could find and proceeded to writhe about in it in hysterics.. That fricking pig as a lot to answer for.

Following a bath and a new change of clothes, 'Peppa' decided that since the 'sun had dried up all the rain, Mummy' she would venture into the garden and play in the sand pit. A mere 10 minutes later, outfit number 3 made it's appearance.

The day continued along these lines until 3pm when the big girls returned home from school. Today I also had a 'tag-a-long' in the form of my friends child. So all 6 of us trudged home in the heat.
All tetchy and tired from their day, the 4 girls bickered for an hour, while the boy decided to use his very first tooth, which made it's debut today, to munch on a cocktail sausage!

Tag-a-long went home, just as the Norfolk Councils School Nurse made her belated appearance.

What should have been a 20 minute care plan review for the 6year olds epilepsy, turned into a 2 hour free-for-all.
I will not bore you with the details of that, I can barely get my head 'round it myself.
Needless to say, everyone was in a foul, exhausted, drained kind of mood.

I, in all my wisdom, decided to get out some craft things for the big girls to have fun with, in a vain attempt to lift their spirits.

What I wasn't expecting, was them to move from the neatly layed out, covered table to my living room rug.

And that's when it happened..

In one fell swoop, thousands of little pieces of glittering fairy dust fell quaintly from the sky. Swirling, tumbling making me dizzy as they whirled to the ground. The explosion lasted all of a few tiny seconds. The aftermath, devastating.

Three hours later, and I'm still finding sparkling remains on the rug, carpet, sofa and curtains.

Poor Tinkerbell didn't stand a chance in the hands of my terrorist toddler.

On a Good Day.

Isn't it amazing?!

Looking around me, I am in total admiration. There are so many wonderful, beautiful things in this world.
I have spent an entire day in the garden with the family. We enjoyed a barbecue and some splashing around in the paddling pool.

The day has been quite stress-free (for a day in this house anyway!) and everyone has been in good spirits.

Once I had bathed the four children and put them to bed, I plonked myself back in the garden, catching the last of the sun as it disappeared behind the houses.

I sat at my beautiful big glass table alone eating my dinner. In silence. All except the bird song keeping me company. I feel so very relaxed. I can't remember the last time I felt such peace.

I looked around at the 5 empty chairs surrounding me. I've created such a wonderful family with Drew.

Little trikes,  bikes and scooters adorn the lawn along with a trampoline, slide, sand pit, playhouse and a miniature dining table with four little chairs under a tiny gazebo. There had been such life in this garden all but an hour ago. But now? Now there is peace.

I looked to the sky. The beautiful clear blue sky, with it's wispy white clouds, dancing through it.

An infinite amount of space above me. Beautiful. Wondrous. Amazing.

How did I not notice this before? This endless sea of calm? The birds, so effortless in flight, gliding along form rooftop to rooftop, gently humming a little tune.

I take in a deep breath. This is the kind of peacefulness I want to feel everyday. I long for this. This clarity. This space. This euphoria.

I want to bottle it and hand it out to the world. I want to drink it all up when I'm feeling down and feel what I'm feeling this very second.

This is the me I strive to be. I want to be. I need to be.

Looking up, I feel dizzy. There are no limits, no boundaries to this amazing immeasurable piece of artwork we have come to know as the sky.

It is total bliss. My little piece of heaven, right here in my garden.

Today, I am on top of  the my world.

Good Moring..?

I used to be a morning person.

I loved nothing better then waking to summer sunshine, feeling relaxed and refreshed.
I also loved waking up to a seriously rainy, stormy day. I love the sound of the rain, and watching the droplets of water race each other to the ground.

I used to be a morning person.

My love of the morning has fast dwindled over the past 6 years.

Night feeds, early morning, stank filled heavy nappies.. These all put a dampener on the things I loved the most.

Nowadays, I hate the mornings. I'm tired and irritable.

I wake, most days with a headache at best, but usually a migraine. I just don't ever seem to get enough rest.
I don't even think that it's sleep that I need.. Just rest.

By 1pm, my eyelids are heavy and drooping. I'm yawning like a sleepy sloth and longing for a nap.
But I get no help. I get no rest. I'm a 28 year old woman in the body of a 68 year old..

The sunshine is great.. until you add 4 very young and very hot moaning children into the mix and a double buggy featuring an almost 3year old and a chucky 8month old. Oh, and hills. Did I mention the fecking hills?

The rain is great.. until the very same 4 children decide 2 minutes into the school run, that they just couldn't possibly take another step of the 3minute walk, as the rain is hitting their face. And they are scared of the thunder, and lightening, oh and the big grey cloud overhead.

I used to be a morning person...

2nd Look Saturday!

So, it's 2nd look Saturday and here is a post that I liked and made me giggle when writing so I thought that I'd share it with you all again!

Check out Cass' site to see more 2nd Looks..



Week two of potty training my 2 year old daughter, Bailey.

She mastered peeing into the potty last week, but neglected to pull her knickers down first.. And with an average of 17 pairs of pants having to be washed daily, she's gone through around 204 in the past 12 days alone.

Yesterday we had a break through.. she pulled her knickers down prior to squatting, I don't think I've ever been so proud! I almost did the 'Pee-Pee in the pot-tay' song and dance!

Today, my dear young Bailey is not a 'baby' any more. She informs me she is a 'big girl' and 'my potty is too small for a big girl Mummy, I need to do a wee-wee on the big girls toilet'

The all singing, all dancing potty has been made redundant once more, well at least for another couple of years when baby Che starts his very own training.

All of a sudden I hear an excited squeal from upstairs. Bailey had been playing in her bedroom. Naturally I was worried. I needn't have been as she had very cleverly planted herself on the toilet and done her very first ever poo! She even remembered to pull her pants down first!

Who cares if she hadn't even tried to wipe herself clean? or that in her excitement she smeared the brown stuff across the toilet seat? And who gives a damn that she saw fit to come half way down the stairs to tell me of her exciting news by means of butt-bumping down each step? Or that mummy doesn't have any carpet cleaner in the house?

She steers me to the toilet and shows me her offering. Praise is showered upon her like glittering confetti. As she helps me flush, she utters the words 'Bye-bye poo-poo, have fun swimming with your friends' as she waves it on its way around the U-bend...

Dearest Drew

When I'm down, you have to be strong. That's how we work.
When you are down, I will pick up the slack. It's the only way we can get through the days.

We finish each others sentences. We think the same things. We know each other, we love each other.

The kids are the icing on the cake.  I could not think of a better father from them then you.
They adore you, worship the ground you walk on.

We are so very proud of all that you have overcome. We love you.

We have our ups and downs, like everyone else. We struggle the daily struggle, like everyone else.
We grow stronger. Each and every passing day.

Nothing can beat us. We will get through this, like we get through everything else.

The nights are long, the days longer. Grueling, complicated, demanding and forlorn.
But we can do this. Together. We are stronger then I could ever have imagined.

I love you and all (well, most..) of your quirks. Your wittiness, your charm and your personality.

Put simply. I. Adore. You.

xx

Caption This!

This is my first week of 'Caption This' inspired by the lovely Cass.

So here you go, this is my photo, all you have to do is come up with a caption for it. To have a go yourself, link up to Cass' site.

Creatures for the Gallery

This weeks Gallery prompt is Creatures.

Thursday 17th June 2010. It was not only my birthday, but it was also the birth day of these six beautiful little girls...

Mummy. Abby. (Black Labrador)

The Daddy, Kye. (Blue eyed Siberian Husky)

Out of the light, comes the dark

Surrounded by complete darkness,she knew she had to escape.
Desperately searching for something, anything which could help guide her onto a more familiar path.

It was not a peaceful darkness. The noise was unbearable. She couldn't hear herself think. She begged, pleaded with herself to concentrate on her breathing and remain calm.

She could sense the space narrowing. She felt claustrophobic. Winded like someone or something had slammed her chest hard, but she knew she was totally alone. No one could help her here. No one could hear her.

She wanted to fight, but she was giving up. Cold, scared and alone, she had nothing left. She was nothing and nobody. She didn't belong here. She was broken. There were too many pieces missing.

Then it hit her. It came so fast out of the darkness. She didn't realise until it was too late. It encased her, swallowed her up, lifted her so high she felt as though she were flying. Soaring through the clouds.

The light was amazing. It hurt her eyes, but it was beautiful. For that second, that tiny moment, everything seemed clear. Calm. Peaceful. Wondrous. Just for that split second.

The fight had left her feeling exhausted, but the urgency to propel herself was too strong. She felt weak, but couldn't stop.

She needed to feel the release, desperately trying to expel the seemingly endless torrents of redundant jabbering.

This was her torture. It was constant. The darkness comes then the light scoops her up and left her to crash back down into a messy heap. It happens over and over again on an endless loop.

The depressive lows and the manic highs of Bipolar disorder.

This post was inspired by Josie, at Sleep is for the weak and her writing workshop. It combines 2 of her prompts Depression and Light.

You can't pick your family..Part 2

Part 1 was all about the Sister-In-Law.
If you missed the first installment you can find it here.

Part 2, is all about my sister. Linda, or as she is now known, Alesha.

Linda is 5 years my senior. She still lives near London, not far from where we grew up. She has three children, my nephew Nathan 16, and my nieces Shannon, 14 and Charley, 12. She has been married to Darran for the past 16 years.

At the grand old age of 32, Linda (named after my mum's sister who tragically died at the age of 2 in a RTA) decided to change her name by Deed Poll to Alesha. No one knows why and she didn't bother telling anyone she'd done it!

About 2 years ago now, Linda disowned our mum. The reasons for which will be yet another installment to this series of how fucked up my family are.

The past 2 years have been weird. Linda has decided that my family and I don't matter to her any longer. I get the occasional text or email but always after I have initiated it.

She has never seen my son, Che. Her choice, not mine.

She didn't send a card at Christmas or for mine or any of my children's birthdays, but had some stern words for me when she thought that I had missed her eldest daughters birthday (even though I had sent a card and present in the post and had spoken to her online) which incidentally is the day after my daughter Bailey's birthday which she had forgotten..!

I still write, send updated photos of the kids, send birthday, Christmas and anniversary cards and presents down to each of them. I get nothing in return. Neither do my children, which is the biggest smack in the face ever. Not only because I have absolutely no idea of her reasons to exclude me and my family out of her life but also because she is penalising my children, her nieces and nephew.

I used to be close to my sister. I miss not having that relationship with her. I miss my nieces and nephew dearly. But most of all, I am deeply hurt by her actions. I am wholly disappointed in her and her recent decisions. I can not and will not forgive her for her discriminating behaviour.

But she is my sister. I will not disown her. She is part of my family, even if she doesn't consider me being part of hers.

Dearest Jay

Dearest Jay,

I feel the same way.

I know what it's like to have that voice in your head, telling you how much of a waste of space you are.
I know all about crying. Sobbing into your pillow every night. I lock myself in the bathroom in the middle of the night when the rest of the house are peacefully sleeping. I never find peace.

I had a severe bout of depression before. I lost my son. I tried to be with him. I couldn't cope.
I ended up in a rehabilitation clinic for 6months, on an awful lot of meds. I hated not being able to feel the grief that I needed to feel. I needed to feel the pain.

Since I've had my other children, PND has filled my days and now I have been diagnosed with Bipolar type 2 disorder.

I feel so very lost and alone. My family tell me they love me everyday, and I wish I could believe them. I don't doubt that they can feel love. I just don't know how to accept it. I wish I could.

I'm not taking medication this time. I hated the way they made me feel. It's not a failure thing. I have already failed. I don't like feeling how I do, but at least I do feel something. I am a failure, so I should feel bad, right? That's the price for being a fuck up.

I'm trying to cope. Each day at a time is a true struggle. Trying to be a passable mummy to my 4 children and an alright partner to Drew. It's an effort to wake up in the morning. To have a wash and get dressed. Some days I come home from taking the kids to school and realised that I haven't even put a brush through my hair.

I am a mere shadow of my former self. With great responsibility, comes great expectations, which I am clearly falling shy of.

You do your best. You do what you have to do.

You have an awesome talent, keep using it. It is your gift. I have yet to find mine.

I have included you in a post before. In Awe. So to that voice in your head I say: Go fuck yourself. She is all that. She is special. She is noticed and She is loved.

Your Twitter feeds alone have spurred me on in some of my darkest hours this past year or so. I am honoured to have you as a 'friend'. You bring a little bit of sunshine into my otherwise grey, gloomy day.

Dearest Jay, don't let the voices win. Don't be like me. I have hit the bottom and I'm fighting to breath again. I am here. You are here. We are here together. xxx

The birthday blog

I have just turned another year older. Another year wiser. Another year closer to 30.

Birthday's aren't special anymore. Not once you hit those magical 'Tween' years.

It's just another year. Another day of your life that can suck as much as the last.

How do you get that magic back? Is it even possible to feel that excited child-like feeling ever again?

I guess my birthday being on the date it is, is usually overshadowed by other things, Father's Day and England footy matches, for instance... This year it was also on a Thursday. Thursday's aren't great, are they?

Don't get me wrong, I had a nice meal out at one of our local pubs with Drew and the 4 kids.

They bought me a lovely little 'Mummy' necklace.

The big girls made me cards and drew me pictures. I got lots of extra hugs and kisses from them all.

It's just that it feels like anyother day. Same old housework to do, same old routine, same crap, different day. 

I'm glad I shared this 'day' with my family. Even if it was just another day.