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.

Motherhood

This week, Tara Cain's prompt for the Sticky Fingers Gallery is a toughie.. Motherhood.

I've thought long and hard about this weeks entry, and what possible photo(s) I could include.


I thought about including the scan pictures, my stomach, which after 5 children now has so many stretch marks it resembles a road map. I also thought about including their newborn photos or one which features me with all of them. Then I thought that those ideas weren't really 'motherhood'. They are the cause and the result, but not the meaning.

This is my take on motherhood.



 I don't proclaim to be a 'supermum' or an 'almost perfect' mum, far from it.
My goal as a mother has been and will always be to raise happy children. Children who love each other. Children who are close to each other. This, I have achieved, and I will strive to achieve for the rest of my life.

To my beautiful children,
Lauryn, Ashley, Bailey and Che.
I love you more then you can imagine.
I hope I can make you as proud of me as I am of you all.
Keep making me, your Daddy, and each other smile.
Love Mummy xxxx

To my little angel, Jackson.

You may not be here with me right now, but one day I will be there with you and I will do my best to be the Mummy you missed out on. Not a day goes by when I don't love you as much as your brother and sisters.

I don't know what went wrong, I wanted desperately for you to stay with me, but you grew your wings and there was nothing I could do. I felt so very helpless. I miss you constantly.

Love you always, Mummy x

Nappy Days!

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...

Love Making - for beginners

My 6 year old daughter, Lauryn came to me the other day with a book that she had written. So very proud was she, beaming from ear to ear.

'It's called the How to make love' Mummy'. 'I've even written a blurb' she said excitedly.

So here it is, for all to see, do you think I should be worried..?

The Front Cover

The blurb

It gets interesting when we open it..

Ah, an insight into the mind of a 6 year old girl..

The picture.

The author, Lauryn.

Getting Old

So it's my birthday next week. I'll be 28.
I'm growing ever closer to the big 3-0, which seems like a scary prospect. It seems all too grown up!

I'm not a young 27, not my any means, I have a wise head on my shoulders. I have been there, done that and got the T-Shirt so to speak.

I have experienced highs like meeting my partner, Drew and the birth of my four beautiful children. I have however also suffered some serious lows. The deaths of close family and friends, miscarriage, still birth and, well I'll refer you to a previous post Damaged Goods which explains lots.

I have lived and worked in Dublin, Ireland, London, and now Norwich.

There are so very many things that I would like to achieve in my life and for my children.

You always dream what you would have accomplished by the time you reach the grand 'old' age of 30. I now have 2 years to complete these dreams, and if I'm being completely realistic, I know they are not going to happen.

So maybe it's time to reflect and take stock of what I have and what I can achieve by my 30th, while I still have the time. Maybe then, the prospect of this momentous birthday won't seem so frightening.

I want to lose all of the baby weight once and for all. I am done with having my children now that Drew has put an end to his baby producing days. I also want to get married. I don't want to be a fat, unmarried, 30year old mother of 4. It doesn't read right.

So there you have it, my 2 goals to be achieved in 2 years. Wish me luck people, I'm gonna need it.

The World Cup - A girls eye view

I don't profess to know much about football, or The World Cup for that matter, but for the past decade, I have lived with an avid self proclaimed football fanatic.

My man really does know his stuff, so how could I not have picked up a thing or two over the years?

This is my view of England's World Cup bid.. Enjoy!

Now ladies, If you are looking for your 'ideal' man you are unlikely to find him here, lets break it down.

Looks: There aren't too many 'beautiful' footballers about at the the moment, unfortunately. We seem to be in the land of fairy tales with the likes of Wayne 'Shrek' Rooney and Peter 'Giant' Crouch.

Talent: Undeniably, there are some mega talented lads in the team. Unfortunately, a few of them are a little selfish - too many big heads rivalling for top dog, which is a shame. They play well individually but seem to lack that true team spirit that would take them far in this type of competition.

Personality: Girls, if you're looking for this then look elsewhere, 'cause you've just lucked out completely!

Money: If this is what you want in a man, then take your pick. Don't be put off by the majority of them being married, they sure as hell aren't.

Right now down to business.

With the sad news that Nelson Mandela's great granddaughter, 13 year old Zenani was killed in a drunken road traffic accident while returning home from the pre-world cup concert and South African opera singer, Siphiwo Ntshebe, who died form meningitis mere weeks before he was due to perform at the opening ceremony, this World Cup seems to be a little doomed.

When you add to this the bad luck that the England team itself have received, you can't help but wonder what's next?

First, there was David Beckham, who's last ever World Cup chances were dashed when he tore his Achilles tendon while playing for his current club AC Milan. Then came the news that central defender Rio Ferdinand damaged his knee ligament when involved in a tackle with striker Emile Heskey during training.

With injury worries rife among the England team, many of whom have recently overcome groin strain, it does seem that England have a somewhat 'thrown together' team.

So can we really win?

Well, we have some strong competition and there are always the 'upsets' when an unlikely team go through.
This year however, I'm doubtful we can go all the way.

I would love nothing more then 2010 to be the year that tops 1966 and maybe I'll be proven wrong.

All I can say now is, COME ON ENGLAND, we are all routing for you.

Like Mother, Like Son

Today I saw one of those truly gross things. The kind of thing that makes you feel sick to the stomach.
Not quite to the standard of '2 girls, 1 cup' (If you haven't had the pleasure and have a very strong stomach, Google it!) but gross none the less.

I was in the playground at my daughters' first school this morning when I saw a little boy 'cuff' his snotty nose and wipe it down his friends coat! Disgusting enough, right?

Obviously not!

I was absolutely taken aback by what happened next.
Said snot filled boy sauntered over to his mother and sneezed, which released an ungodly amount of nasal matter which he proceeded to smear across his face.

His mother, checking her pockets and realising she didn't have a tissue, lovingly wiped her child's nose with her own bare hand, before walking across to her baby son's pram and casually wiping the large vat of green stuff across her baby boys jacket!


I'm disgusted. Obviously the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. lllll

In Awe

Time and time again I read about some truly amazing people.

These people inspire me to do better, but somehow, I fell that I can never live up to their incredible achievements.

I'm not talking about people in the media - that's a kind of false economy.

I'm really talking about real people, living real lives..

People who are wonderfully talented, selfless, generous, kind and nurturing.

I feel blessed to know a few of these mere mortals. These people bring joy, encouragement and sunshine into my life.

Of course my children bring me immense happiness, as does my partner Drew. Without them, I wouldn't be me. However, today I am not gushing about my beautiful family.

I am talking about an elite few, some of whom I'll mention here

The lovely Jay over at Mocha Beanie Mummy.
A rare find. Such a big personality. Such a talented photographer.
She makes me cry with laughter every single day.

My good friend Danni
I met her at school. An amazing mother to her three young children. She studies, she works part time and she is in the process of starting her own business.. all while her husband works away.
She keeps all her pans from boiling over. A true great friend.

Tara at Sticky Fingers.
She created The Gallery. A wondrous achievement.
Each week she brings so many people together and  introduces us to some wildly talented people, albeit via the power of the World Wide Web.

My mate Tommy.
Another high school chum, Tommy runs world wide marathons in aide of women's cancer charities.
Following the diagnoses and eventual death of his mother, he has helped raise thousands of pounds for these very deserving charities.

Last, but not least,

Amy,  from And 1 more means four.
Mum extraordinaire!
At just 24 herself, the beautiful Amy is an incredible mother to her 5 small children.
She breast feeds, she makes the morning routine and school runs look effortless and she is always happy.
Never complacent, Amy is an all round 5 star uber Mummy.

I have total and utter admiration for these people.

I am in awe of you all.
I aspire to be more like you. You make the world a better, brighter place to be.

For allowing me to sneak a small glimpse of your lives I am forever thankful, you have made me a better person.

Keep up the fabulous work guys, I am sending you all a huge pat on the back!

The Terrorist and the potty

'The Terrorist' also known as my 2 year old daughter, Bailey has just started potty training.
She is actually doing quite well.

Wees are going into the pot every time now, thankfully.
We are still working on number 2's.. Oh, and on the whole pulling your knickers down before peeing business.

Bailey has also recently given up her dummies, or 'Dar-Dars' as she liked to call them.
Day and night for the past 2 weeks she has been dummy free!

Her speech is coming on leaps and bounds and so is her over sized personality! She will start the nursery attached to her older sisters' school in September too.

My littlest lady is growing up fast, thank goodness for her baby brother, Che.
I really don't know how I'm going to cope when my gorgeous baby boy starts school. May he stay my baby for a very long time.

Oops I did it again

Oops I did it again..

I giggled. Rather inappropriate, given the article I was reading out to a friend.

Yet more sad news in the media this morning regarding another young death in the world of 'celebrity'.

Stuart Cable, 40 year old ex-drummer for the band, Stereophonics.

Stuart was found dead in his home in South Wales in the early hours of this morning.

You can read the full article here.


Like I said, I was reading this out, over the phone to my friend, when suddenly I had an uncontrollable urge to giggle like a 2 year old child who had just heard a fart.

Finally composing myself, my friend asked why I would laugh at such sad news.

I know it's childish, but I truly couldn't help myself..

Stuart's body was found by his mother. Which of course is terrible and not funny in the slightest. However..

Mr Cable's mother is named Mabel..

I apologise, I am a 27 year old, mother of 4, who acts like a pathetic giggling hyena when I read something like the name Mable Cable..

You can't pick your family..Part 1

It's so very true what they say..

"You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family"

Prime example of this very statement:

Sister in law calls at 9.30pm and says:

"I've just got a new photo frame and I want to put a photo of your kids in it. Can you email me a photo now?I want to do it tonight"

I'm sorry, I must have given you the impression that I give a fuck about what you want to-do tonight. My ill baby son comes before your 'wants', you selfish, demanding, childish cow.

That is not an over-reaction by the way people. This is just tonight's episode in a very long line of selfish acts that she spouts as she truly does think that the world revolves around her..

Playtime!

I get all excited over the silliest little things.

The kids trays arrived, yay!

A lifetime ago, I worked in a nursery, so recently I have decided that I would hone in to my teaching pre school kids days and bring a bit of nursery home..

The kids, as  you may have guessed, have their own coloured tray each, which has gone down very well.
Lauryn has red, Ashley, pink (or course!), Bailey has yellow and little Che has the green one.

Here's just some of what we got up to...

 

Homemade play dough

Moon sand 

Goop!

Birthday cake for my sister

Crazy little thing called..Life

Today, I somewhat resemble something that farmers would be truly proud to display in their fields to keep those pesky crows at bay... It's not a good look to rock.

After having 6 kids here all week, aged between 15 and 7months old, the house, my house is well, for lack of a better word, trashed. So is my garden come to think of it.

As bad luck would have it, I find myself living in a tiny 2 bedroomed mid terrace with my partner, our four children and our 2 cats. Further more, I seem to have 'inherited' my two teenage sisters for every half term school holiday and majority of the weekends throughout the year.

Aside from this, I also have a substantial list of things which currently make my life, well, erm.. difficult shall we say.

I have recently been diagnosed with Bipolar. My partner is also a depressive.
The 6year old has epilepsy and a bad case of the uber tantrums.
The 2 cats have problems, one has chronic cystitis and pee's in the bath, often. The other cat has a heart murmur and is a troublesome little shit, but that's another post.
The baby seems to think he's still worthy of newborn portions and despite now being 7months old, he refuses to wean and alarmingly demand feeds 6oz milk bottles every 2-3 hours.
The 5 year old needs constant reassurance that she is my world. She whinges and cries uncontrollably at any given opportunity that life doesn't quite go her way. This will last hours at a time.
The toddler is the devil in disguise. Often referred to as 'The Terrorist' Destruction follows her. Mess follows her. She refuses to potty train, conform to society or cease screeching like a Banshee.
The car is buggered, so we are well and truly grounded.
The garden is the size of a postage stamp, with super strength weed things lurking in every crevice of the patio.
And finally, the bane of my life, reoccurring cases of head lice from some kid who's idiotic parents refuse to treat. Gahhhh, nasty little pointless blood sucking bastards.

Phew... *breaths a huge sigh of relieve* Thank God that's off my chest.

I want to clean and have a bright and shiny house and garden. But in reality, it never quite happens.
There is always too much to do on any given day.

Today, for example, I have all the kids here. The breakfast ritual alone took me 43minutes. I got the kids fully dressed and they went outside and proceeded to jump in the paddling pool and have a water fight..
I need to get the mass mountain of laundry under control again today too. I need to vacuum, dust, wash windows, mirrors and floors. The toy boxes need sorting so that the kids can regain some much needed floorspace in their bedroom.

I look at my ever growing list and I feel deflated.

I don't know where to start, and when I eventually do start, one of the kids needs something right there and then.

It's like they know. As soon as I pick up the Dyson. It's their visual aide that Mummy isn't playing with them any longer and she needs to be recaptured into the land of make believe.

So much effort and motivation is required to do the smallest of things at the moment. It's a vicious cycle.

That is why I am going to try The Personal Challenge a la Tiddlyompompom. Wish me luck!

This month my Personal Challenge is:
1. Keep on top of the daily housework
2. Keep on top of the weeds and lawn
3. Keep up with my Bipolar therapy.