Bloated? What? Me!

So it seems there is something else I don’t quite understand. That perhaps a woman of my age should, something the media keeps telling me I must have. What could this be, what must I have since I am a busy woman of certain years who runs round trying to juggle everything at once?

Well let me set the scene..

Currently there is an ad on the TV here in NZ of a former NZ Miss Universe, (Yes really we did actually win one once in the early 80’s.. Coincidentally it was when NZ was starting to go Nuclear free and with the contest being held in the States.... well I am not one on conspiracies theories but....) who is wearing a lovely silk evening gown going on about how sometimes she has to wear this but would rather be wearing this... Next shot she is shown in comfy clothes and somehow by eating this “magic” yoghurt she feels so much better and confident to wear the dress and life is so much better for it!

So it seems, since I am being told daily, I too must have that “bloated, uncomfortable” feeling, where I want to go about all day wearing comfy clothes as heaven forbid you just can’t wear fitting clothes when feeling bloated! I too should be eating\drinking those little bottles of “magic yoghurt” that will fix everything and make my day so much better.

But here is the problem; CAN someone actually tell me what this “bloated” feeling is? What are these women on the telly and in the magazines all going on about?? As I really have no idea!!

Now don’t get me wrong, my diet is not always the best, I do feel bloated and at times do feel a bit uncomfortable wearing fitting clothing but that is generally just after I have eaten a rather large meal, followed by such goodies as dessert, coffee and wine. In my case it is always self inflicted and it always it resolves itself the next morning by the way nature intended. But a day to day feeling of being bloated, no I don’t understand that. Surely if you are feeling a bit uncomfortable doesn’t a wee fart or popping to the toilet normally resolve issues?  According to some “scientific” research conducted women apparently still have an issue admitting that they fart? So if an average person can or needs to fart up to 14 times a day and its not happening where is all that gas going? Yes people, shocking news isn’t it but everyone does it, even the Queen so I’ve been told!

Surely I cannot be the only woman out there that has no idea what they are going on about?

Of course I can’t help thinking, and as I said before I am not into conspiracy theories but.....

Think how prevalent these yoghurts\drinks are now, perhaps these big corporations have stumbled onto a money making machine caused by our busy lifestyles?  Perhaps instead of "needing" these yogurts\drinks all we need to do is to eat properly, listen to our bodies a bit more....... and have that occasional sneaky fart!

“You did WHAT with the Lego”

If you are a hardened Lego geek then this post comes with a warning.  As this post contains Lego and glue, yes that’s right Lego and glue!

So you may be thinking “What are you doing!!”  But as I sit surrounded by boxes of Lego, instructions and glue on my table it all makes perfect sense to me.   That I have had enough, no more will I have to hear cries of “Mummy Lightening McQueen is broken can you fix him” or “Mummy where is the rest of my (..Insert any name of a fiddly piece of Lego...)!!”   Now I don’t mean gluing together your general Lego blocks I am talking about the kits, Star Wars, Cars 2, Ninjago, Super Heroes, Lego City etc.  You know the expensive bits of Lego that you painfully put together only for them to be broken 10 minutes later.  Then the painful cycle begins... rebuild....play.....break....cry....rebuild...play.....break.......cry.....

I don’t care if the main reason that Lego is a favourite toy worldwide is because of the ability to reuse the bricks to build new things.  Quite simply I have had it!  There are only so many times one can rebuild a Star Wars fighter, helicopter etc before one completely loses the plot with the dam stuff. 

Now don’t get me wrong I do love Lego myself and can spend hours playing with it.  After all I am the designated Lego builder in our household and enjoy nothing better than getting a new kit and putting it together.  Perhaps that is why I get so anxious when the boys start playing with it knowing that they will eventually break it.

So over the last few months as the boys attentions have gone from one piece to another I have secretly hidden them away.  Plotting on how I am going to do this, waiting until the time is right when I can sit and glue the pieces together.    

So time for a gut check, do I still think it’s a good idea? Yes.  Do the boys think I am crazy? Yes.....   Does Mr P think I am bonkers? Yes... Do I want to back out? No....!  It just needs to be done for my sanity if nothing else....

So here goes.....

PS.  Here’s a tip just in case you think “wow what a great idea”.  Don’t glue the piece completely together, leave a few pieces unglued so if it drops it will break but not shatter...

Crikey where has that year gone??

Well isn't it amazing how time flies when you are having fun?  Of course I am using the word “fun” rather loosely.  With moping around for a bit after being made redundant, then relocating the family back to NZ, finding somewhere to live and of course moving in, I missed the grand occasion of Frankie Parker turning 1.

 

So Happy Birthday to Frankie P or is it Happy Anniversary.......???

Yes it was back in March last year that I decided to give this blogging lark a go and in that time I think, no I am pretty much sure, I have seen it all.  The good, the bad and very ugly side of the blogging and twitter community.  Everything from the cliques, bitchiness and backstabbing, to the caring, well meaning and supportive comments and tweets.  It always makes me think whether I would see this sort of thing if I wasn’t in a “mummy” blogging network?   Really, if you don’t like what someone has written, let it go, move on, life is far too short to worry about the opinions or thoughts of someone you are never going to meet!

Like all new bloggers, there were times where I was continually obsessing about posting something, why I wasn’t getting comments, where I was in the monthly rankings,  but then real life would pop up and make me realise that blogging isn’t a competition or the be all and end all.  It’s what I do to keep the grey matter still ticking along.  I do it for myself and for no one else.  Of course it’s great to get comments and know that someone is actually reading my ramblings.  So a big thanks for taking the time to read my little corner of the blogosphere especially those that have been there from the start.  You know who you are....

In that time I have meet (not in person, but you know what I mean) some great bloggers and read some great posts, some have made me laugh, some have made me cry, some have made me think (yah!) and some that I can just relate to so well its quite scary.  More importantly I now know what I like to write about and what I like to read.

So is it “Chin-Chin” and here’s to another year?  Not sure, I would like to think so but the lack of desire to blog which I wrote about back in January is still lurking about.  But I am now picking up pen and paper to jot things down.  So that has to be a good thing, right?

But what I do know is that Frankie P needs some loving so a new blog profile and photo are top of the list for her me thinks.

Okay, okay, I admit it...

It would be fair to say that the last 8 months or so I have been in denial to what or who I am.  But that all changed this week with the click of a mouse button when I was asked for my occupation at the bank.  I am not currently working was my reply, so with a CLICK I became a ‘housewife’.  Right before my eyes, CLICK, just like that.  Apparently there was no need to discuss this with me.  It seems that any woman who has children and isn’t in employment must be a housewife!  So the decision was made while I sat there quietly outraged (that’s my inner feminist) and Mr. P just smirked knowingly!

You see I haven’t really come to terms yet to say that I am a SAHM.  To all new people I meet and on any forms that I need to complete I am still an IT Manager.  Someone who works and has a life outside of children and the home, but who is currently having an unexpected extended break.  Why do I do this still?  No idea, but I have read some pretty good blogs recently about lost of identity and what life was like before children.  So I guess that pretty much sums up how I feel.  That with that little click the last 20 years of my life and experiences has somehow been wiped out.  That my role in life has now changed to that of a housewife because that is what society or the bank’s computer system thinks I am.  So what will this new role bring I ask?  Will I still be interesting to other people?  Will “Yes hello, I am currently at home with the kids” be met with blank stares or even worst that pitying smirk that some people like to give.  Will I lose whatever fashion sense I had while working and resort to anything that is comfy?  Will my ability to drink copious amounts of alcohol disappear since I no longer have work drinks or even worst am I am expected not to drink (copious amounts) since I am now a housewife? 

Now of course there is nothing wrong with being called a housewife, after all that is what many of my friends are.  But it does scream (well to me) images of a perfectly coiffure woman in an apron, holding babies and smiling sweetly at hubby.  Not the reality of a over tired woman trying to juggle housework, food shopping, school run, afterschool activities, cooking, bathing and story reading.

But the alternatives are not any better, Home Executive, Home maker, Soccer Mom, Lady of the house, Home Economist!  I mean really, am I the only one that thinks this? 

I think I will settle for what my mum used to say in her younger days when we were all still at home… “wife, mother, chief cook and bottle washer”. 

Just try fitting that into your little box Mr. Bank Manager!

Not for the Politicians......!!

I originally wrote this post last week, a full on rant about Nadine Dorries and her strangely “Pro-Life” and foolish legislation that she wanted to bring in. Okay, so today she has gone on the record in parliament to say that she is” Pro-Choice” but I am not totally convinced on that.

This is after all, the woman that in May this year, proposed a bill that required sex education in schools should include content promoting abstinence to girls aged 13 to 16. Even though the sex education that is already taught mentions the option of abstinence, the new bill would require active promotion of abstinence to girls only. Now, it has been 25 years since I was a teenager but from memory, boys were just as, if not more promiscuous as us girls. So the question needs to be asked why not this “active promotion” to boys?

She then followed this on a week later with ‘If a stronger ‘just say no’ message was given to children in school, there might be an impact on sex abuse, because a lot of girls, when sex abuse takes place don’t realise until later that was a wrong thing to do... I don’t think people realise that if we did empower this message into girls, imbued this message in school, we would probably have less sex abuse’. Hmm so what is she saying here? That the lack of awareness around abstinence among young girls is linked to rates of child sexual abuse and nothing to do with predatory, manipulating males? Do young boys not get abused?

Anyway I digress.

So today the majority of MPs saw sense and rejected by an over whelming majority the bid to change the law on abortion counselling. Which surely is good news for all women in Britian? What right does one individual in a position of power or in this case government have to tell us what we can and can’t do with our lives. Women should be awarded the choice to decide what is best for them and their families and not dictated to by someone else’s beliefs.  Thankfully in this country we are afforded that choice and I for one can see no reasons why it needs to be changed.

In effect what Dorries was saying was that the current organisations such as BPAS and Marie Stopes, had a financial interest into pushing women into having abortions. That they were not providing, “adequate care” for those seeking abortions. That independent counselling should be made available if the patient so wish it. That sounds all fine and you can think okay so what is the big deal about all this? Well the current abortion services are regulated and are kept to official guidelines. The counselling that is already provided, if a woman wants to take it up, is done by trained professionals independently of the clinics doctors. So the questions that need answering are who or what would these new “independent counsellors” be? How could they be able to provide any more help than what is already available? Would they be regulated and made to follow the same guidelines? Would they be able to help a woman who is indecisive about having an abortion to make the right decision for her without any moral or religious prejudice? Would all this cause additional delay and distress?

Abortion is and always will be an emotive and contentious subject. It is a private and personal matter and should remain so. It has no place in government nor should governments use it to gather party votes. You only need to look to the US to see how it is used as a political football.

Women should be able to have the choice to decide.  They after all are the ones that have to live with the decision they have made, some do so quite easily, some do not.

“Hold this one....”

41 years ago today these infamous words were spoken to my mother “Here hold this one while I get the other one”. “Get the other what” my mum was heard to shriek.  “Baby?” came the reply.  Yes, all those years ago I entered the world the elder of twin girls to the utter surprise to my parents.  It really was an utter shock to them, as not only was the pregnancy not planned, as they already 3 children, but twins!

Back in those days there were no scans available to check on what was going on with your pregnancy.  My mother had absolutely no idea that she was carrying twins.  There was the odd disagreement between the doctor and midwife about the number of heartbeats, the third faint one was just an echo apparently!  But the doctor was adamant that there was one very large baby and that was all.

Times where so much simpler then, my mum like many in her generation, ate what she wanted, drank (she wasn’t a big drinker) and smoked (like a chimney) unaware of the affect to her unborn babies.   They just got on with life, no sitting back and feeling sorry for themselves over morning sickness, or what to wear as it wasn’t a fashion show.  There were no celebrity mummies showing off their fantastic post baby bodies, to make you want to reach for the cookie jar.  You weren’t unique you were just pregnant like millions of women before and after.   If they had a problem or unsure of anything they just asked their own mothers, no going online to self diagnose yourself.  

I can hardly compare her experiences with mine as it is a far cry from the stresses of having a baby today.  Apart from the medical care you get now, which I must add helped me have my two boys, so I will be eternally grateful to the NHS.  There is the endless bombardment of the media telling you want you should and shouldn’t be doing.  How the decisions you are making now mean you are already a bad mother before you have even given birth. All the must have baby items that you need so you have a happy baby.  These items that you don’t really need, but think you do otherwise you aren’t a good mum.  That you eventually dig out of the bottom of the cupboard months later never used and wonder why on earth you brought it in the first place.

Makes me think, perhaps she had the better pregnancy experience than me.  Perhaps ignorance in some ways is bliss.... 


P.S.   Finally I thought I would share my birthday card from Mr P, arh he knows me so well...

This is still Hard.. But it is getting Better...

So it’s been 5 months now since I became a SAHM.  In case you don’t know the back history this was a choice I made after being made redundant in March and why I started to blog.  Yes, I know, I was lucky enough to be able to make that decision so I shouldn’t be moaning about things.

However 5 months on, it has been pretty much life changing and hard, and to be honest it still is for me.  So let me share with you the things that I really truly hate and seem to struggle with about being a SAHM.  So in no particular order we have..

Mealtimes:  I hate meal times with a fucking passion.  In fact I have always hated organising dinner so it’s just not since the kids came along. But really having to organise meals for a day and then plan a week really does my head in.  My husband isn’t a foodie at all, so eating to him is something you need to do to survive.  So asking him what he would like to eat for dinner is rather pointless, “not fussed” or “whatever” are the usual response!  To make matters worse he can’t really cook either, I blame his mum and first wife for that one!  Then there is the delights of my little angels, luckily the Son No 2 will still hoover anything I put in front of him but not Son No 1.  It is a constant battle to get him to eat his dinner, unless of course it is baked beans.  Many a day I have spent cooking meals for him, for him to turn around and refuse to eat, he won’t even taste the bloody stuff.  At the moment he doesn’t like, pasta, rice, noodles or potatoes..  Oh, why do I bother, perhaps a diet of baked beans will be good for him!

Housework:  I am not talking about the tiding up of things.  I mean the actual back breaking tedious housework of mopping floors, dusting, cleaning sticky finger prints of doors etc.  We used to have a cleaner when I was working who would pop in for a couple of hours a week to do all this.  But on stopping work I decided we didn’t need her anymore, oh what a bad move that was.  I resent the fact that I have to do all of this, I know I am at home and have the time to do it but that doesn’t make it any better.  Mr P would be happy to do some of it during the weekend but then that would eat up what valuable family time we have in the weekend.  So big question is do I get the cleaner back?  No, as I can’t justify it really if I am at home twiddling my thumbs.

Children Chitchat:  Not talking about the funny day to day chit chat with my boys what I am talking about is mothers I meet who incessantly talk about their little darlings and their deeds.  Let’s get this straight, “yes I am a mum but I have been on this fair planet for the best part of 40 years and in that time I have done more than give birth to two little mini me’s.  I have in fact done many things like, swum in the Borneo rainforest, canoed down the Zambezi, and ridden elephants, does that interest you?  No?  Then why do you think I am interested in what your little darling is doing and what he\she got on their report card?  Please is there anything else you would like to talk about, any current affairs, I will even do celebrity gossip?”

School Holidays:  Nothing needs to be said about this other than they seem to be on holiday all the time and it fucks up MY routine!

So as you can see it’s a short list, and it is getting better.  The good points really are starting to outweigh what I hate or struggle with. 

The one thing that is making it better for me is having the opportunity to watch the relationship and companionship between my sons develop and grow.  The idolisation of the eldest from the younger, the teaching, torture and tormenting from the eldest to the younger,  the battle for possession of toys (the eldest hides them!), the ongoing violence, the ability of the youngest to ‘hold his own’ in battle, all interrupted by small bouts of genuine warmth to each other and playing together nicely.  Things I wouldn’t see if I was working...

Friends, as good as Family?

What do you think, are friends’ family? Do you consider your closet friends more like family than friends?

Well if like me you live 13,000 miles from your family then the answer is, Yes. Of course they are never going to replace your family, how could they? But they can and do fill the gap that exists when you have no immediate family to hand. This really hit home for us last week when we had to take Son No 1 in at 6.30 am for his operation. What would we do with our younger son? No problem, our good friend K, said she would take him the night before so we could just get up and go without having to sort him out. Then when the day didn’t go to plan and the operation was scheduled later than we anticipated, she stepped in again by taking him for another night, so Mr P could stay later, and be there when Son No 1 woke up from his surgery. The whole time we never had to worry that he wasn’t being looked after or that one of us had to rush back to collect him.

Of course I am not talking about fair weather friends or transitional friends, those friends that come in and out of your life at different stages like work colleagues or people in parenting groups. I am talking about your close friends, the ones that will always be there for you, the ones where you can agree to have different points of views, tell you that your arse does in fact look big in that, hold your hair back for you when being sick, the ones where you can feel comfortable enough to sit in your PJs all day eating cold take away from the night before, with. Those are the friends I am talking about.

Yes, your family are the ones that know you warts and all. They know all about your good and bad points, the teenage angst and crushes, crying when watching old Lassie movies! Whereas your closest friends know you as you are now, with none of that family baggage or resentment. They are less likely to judge you especially when it comes to raising children, hands up who hasn’t had an argument with their mother over something that you are apparently doing wrong? They tend to be more supportive of your decisions and actions as they have either been there done that, or going thru the same thing as you.

Our boys will not only grow up with their immediate family but also an extended family of uncles, aunties and cousins that may not be tied to them by blood but family they will be.

I just don’t understand....

I have been living in this fair country for going on 10 ½ years and in all that time there is one thing I can’t quite understand. I would even go as far as to say it’s a downright bloody mystery to me. That mystery is the jacket (or baked, depending on side of the Atlantic you are on), potato!

In all seriousness I just don’t get whey they are everywhere, doesn’t matter what eating establishment you are in there is bound to be a jacket potato on the menu somewhere. Okay, perhaps Jamie or Gordon don't have them in their restaurants. I have even been aboard and see baked potato stands in English touristy hotspots. As if you can’t leave old Blighty for a week or so without getting your potato fix.

Now I am not a potato hater, in fact I am quite partial to a spud or two and back in NZ we do have baked potatoes, mainly as a meal accompaniment (with just butter on top) or done on the coals of a BBQ. But what I really don't understand is the allure of a potato, baked to within an inch of its life, covered in a variety of toppings, pawn cocktail anyone? I just don’t get it. I can count on one hand, no actually two fingers the number of baked potatoes I have had in my time here. What did I think of them, well they were okay but it wasn’t a culinary masterpiece or even a delight. While working it was a much debated topic between myself and a good friend T, who is a bit of a foodie. While she could see it merits as a healthy lunch option I couldn’t, so would try all I could to negate the argument, “baked potato, might as well get chips!”

So to try and find why the fascination for the baked potato I went over to the ever reliable Wiki and apparently...

“The baked potato has been popular in the UK for many years. In the mid-19th century, jacket potatoes were sold on the streets by hawkers during the autumn and winter months. In London, it was estimated that some 10 tons of baked potatoes were sold each day by this method. Common jacket potato fillings (or "toppings") in the United Kingdom include cheese & beans, tuna mayonnaise, chili con carne and chicken & bacon.
Guy Fawkes Night was a traditional time to eat baked potatoes, often baked in the glowing embers of a bonfire, however this is no longer common and they are eaten at any time of the year.  As part of the upsurge for healthier fast food, the baked potato has again taken to the streets of the UK both in mobile units and restaurants.”

So perhaps a culinary delight it is not supposed to be. Perhaps it is just one of those crazy English traditions that I will never quite understand!

Delusional in Middle Age....

So here’s the thing, I think I have to finally accept the fact that I am middle age. That I am 40 and not the 20 something person I see in my mind’s eye. I am sure we all have a different perception of ourselves, a younger more carefree version of ourselves. You know the one, before babies, partners, mortgages and all the other shit entered out lives.


All week I have been looking, rather sadly I have to admit, at a photo that was taken last Saturday night at a summer ball we were invited to. There we are all done up to the nines, Mr P even wore a dinner suit, which is a first in the 17 years we have been together. But the woman looking back at me is not me; it is a cross between my older sister (12 years older) and my dear old mum. A middle age woman who looks like she needs to sleep for a week!

Yip, think I have been deluding myself over the last 10 or so years that I am still that younger version of myself. Now there is nothing wrong with being 40, well apart from the fact that recovery time from a night out is a bit longer. In fact I have no issue telling people my age. Why hide the fact? It also helps that I actually look a few years longer than that. Which I put down to having good genes as it is certainly not by taking my makeup off before going to bed or clean living. Any way I digress...

So middle age, in fact you could almost question that 40 is no longer middle age due to what is portrayed in the media, you know the fabulous 40 something yummy mummies, think Elle Macpherson here. Of course we could all look like that if we had squillons of pounds, nannies, personal trainers, dieticians, stylists, and cosmetic surgeons on speed dial. But in the cold blue light of reality for the majority of us, looking that good is just an additional high expectation of motherhood in the 21st century. Really I can’t see her having to put two loads of washing on before the school run, look after a riotous 2 year old while try to clean the house, rushing home after a play date to cook a nutritious meal of fish fingers and baked beans! Can you?

But those two words, the connotations that it brings up, makes me shudder with dread...

“Middle age, that period of age beyond young adulthood, but before the onset of old age”.

I am just not ready to accept the fact that is what I am. Yes, I am a mother so I am responsible when I need to be. But I am not ready to stop being that 20 something girl, to throw away my wardrobe for a more mumsy sensible one, to stop having nights out with the girls (or boys for that matter), dancing on tables, okay haven’t done that in a while but I think you get the picture...

There is a saying “you are only as old as the person you feel” so I’m off out to find me a toy boy...

What if Motherhood was a sporting Competition..??

While sitting and watching Wimbledon over the last few days it got me thinking what if motherhood was a sporting competition? 

After all we all know of the super “competitive mums” who make the rest of us “mere mums” feel inadequate.  You know the sort I am talking about, the ones who have to have the best natural pain free birth around, found breastfeeding a breeze, what post baby fat?  As if at the end of their endless bragging and one-upmanship they get a bright shining medal that they can proudly display as “No 1 Mum”.  Yes I am sure we all know someone like that or perhaps you are one?

So, as I was saying, what if motherhood was a major sporting competition, and what events would there be?  Perhaps there would be….

….The mother of all “Marathons” would be the labour and birth.  Many will fall to the wayside due to sickness along the way; the hint of an epidural will see you disqualified as gas and air is the only accepted drug of choice!  The hotly contested Post Baby fat weigh in, where uber mums would be lining up to prove what great shape they are in after giving birth.  With the occasionally squeal of “I am smaller than I was before getting pregnant”.  Breastfeeding would have to be the hurdles where the mums in this event would be lining up either by choice or because they feel they have to.  Some will drop at the first hurdle, and will give up at this stage while others will pick themselves up and carry on to the next hurdle falling again and again but going until they reach the end.  The 100 meter Baby race, where mums are racing to compete with each other, over what milestones their baby has achieved in their short little lives.  This obviously will turn into the Toddler 1500 meters, where mums will be anxiously racing to tick off all their toddler milestones?  But the most competitive and derision event of mothering must surely be routine versus non-routine.  Like a boxing match this hotly debated topic will go rounds with each side debating which is best and why the other isn’t.

Sound ridiculous don’t you think?  But in some mum circles that I have come across this isn’t far from the truth.  When these situations arise, do I try and compete alongside them?  No bloody way, I stay on the sidelines. Chatting to anyone else who like me, prefers to watch the madness and competitiveness of these mothers without getting involved in it all.

You see there is a need for competition in various areas of life but not in being a mother.  Who cares or why should it bother anyone else on how you got pregnancy, your (or your lack of) morning sickness, what you did in pregnancy, your birthing decisions, if you followed a routine, breast or bottle fed, dummy or no dummy, single or married….?

The only thing that matters is that we are all mums and we should stop passing judgment on other mums especially if their choices were not your own.  Enough judgment on mothers is already being passed by the media with various "research and studies" that hit the papers almost weekly and then let’s not forget the various websites that exist to make us feel like bad mothers when our opinions my differ from theirs.

After all you just never know when you may need the help of the mum, that you have already judged!

The Procrastinator within…

So it seems that I had a realisation this weekend, one that I kind of knew but didn’t really think about as it only really manifested itself while I was working.  Yes it seems that I am a fully fledge ‘Procrastinator’.  How did this realisation come about you may ask?   Well, quite simply I was cleaning up our PC area as I finally got sick of all the papers and cables lying about and sharing a chair with both sons, and I found the TO DO list that I wrote when I stopped working.  The good news is that cleaning up the PC area was one of the things on the list however there were still another 20 that I hadn’t started or even contemplated.

Ah, Procrastination, what a wonderful thing.  Why do something now when you can keep putting it off.  It should be my motto for life or even my lifestyle of choice.

When I was working I thrived for deadlines, nothing got the adrenalin pumping more than knowing that I had a deadline that was creeping up and I still hadn’t started the work.  A two week deadline meant 8-9 days mucking about.  Then as the day approached I would spend a manic day completing what had to be done.  My work colleagues would ask if I was joking when I suggested doing lunch or coffee as they were trying to get work done before a deadline.  How weird is that?  In fact it pretty much sums up my school days as well, swatting up the night before exams when I should have been studying for weeks..

Procrastination comes in many guises, Twitter, email, blogging, Facebook the list is endless.  I do get days that I think okay today is the day I am going to “clean the line cupboard”, “oil the furniture”,  “attack the hall cupboard”. The hours I have free while the kids are at school\child minder are all mine to do all these “tasks”.  But once I have a morning coffee, check email, twitter, sneak a peek at LinkedIn, and then back to Facebook.  Then the all consuming blogging comes into play; write a post, check a post, read other posts…  My time has ebbed away and before I know, it’s too late to start anything.  Perhaps tomorrow or next week I think to myself as there is no rush to complete these things, they will get done when I can be bothered.  I have thought of setting deadlines for each of these things, but that won’t work as I set them so I can change them!

So almost 4 months later, that tomorrow still hasn’t arrived but at least I now have one thing ticked off.

A matter of choice..

Monday night saw the documentary by Terry Pratchett, he of the Discworld fantasy books on “Choosing to Die”.  For those who didn’t see it, it was about Terry Pratchett trying to establish whether he would be able to die at the time and in a way he wanted.  In the documentary he followed two people to the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland where they had chosen to end their lives.  The final moments of the film saw one of the men who had Motor Neuron disease dying.

As upsetting, disturbing and strangely peaceful those final moments were I couldn’t help but wonder why on earth he had to travel to Switzerland, to a foreign place to end his life. Why is the government dragging its heels on this issue?  Yes, it is an emotive and contentious issue.  Yes, we have to protect the vulnerable to ensure no one is coerced into making this somewhat final decision.  Yes, the argument against assisted dying is strong though mainly based on religious or moral beliefs.

But surely as a Human Being suffering from a terminal\debilitating disease, illness or injury we should have the right to choose to die with the dignity afforded to us.  What right is it for another individual or even government policy\law to tell us that we can’t?  Then if we do choose to go aboard it is at a cost, which then makes it only accessible for the rich.  While there is a threat that your loved ones may be prosecuted on their return to the UK.

Living Wills are common place now, where they let your loved ones know what medical treatments you want or don’t want to help prolong your life if you are unable to make those decisions yourself.  So why then when you are in “sound mind” you are not allowed to choose when to die.

I know that if the time came that I had to make that choice as upsetting it would be for my family and friends I know that they would support me in my decision.  You go through life making choices all the time and when your life is full of pain and illness then you should be able to make that final choice.

To choose to die in your own bed, your favorite chair or place surrounded by the ones you love and who respect your final choice in life, must surely be a choice available to all.

This is harder than I thought...

It’s almost 3 months since I stopped work and I have to say it is all still feels a bit weird for me and I am still struggling with it all.  The struggle I have is not with looking after the boys, which it is fair to say not always a smooth run, but the struggle is with me.

I wrote in my first post about why I stopped working and how important work is to me as a person.  When I got made redundant I made the decision to stop working to be with the boys, while we decide as a family what we are going to do.  In other words, do we stay or do we go, but that is another long story!  I know that I am in an enviable position compared to a lot of mums and dads who would like to be able to be at home with their children.   I know that eventually I will go back to work, and that whatever happens my family will come first....

So where is the struggle you may ask?  To answer that honestly would be to say “is this it”!  I know I may not make myself popular about saying this but I just feel something is missing, a bit unfulfilled perhaps, if that is the word?  In not working? Being at home? I’m not sure.  Don’t get me wrong, my days are busy with the boys and all the other stuff that needs to be done but I do have moments when I just think to myself “really is this it”, that this isn’t enough for me.  If you asked me whether I loved being at home with the boys I would have to think about it, and most probably say ‘Yes’.  But really deep down inside me I think the answer would be ‘No’.  I don’t love it but I do enjoy it.  I like being there when they need their mummy, seeing my youngest reach development milestones that I missed with my eldest as I was working. 

But just because I am a mum does that mean I should just naturally fall happily into this role that family\friends\society dictates for me?  Is it because I was brought up surrounded by strong female role models who had worked or were working that I have this need to do so myself.  Am I just trying to prove to them and to the rest of the world that yes I can do and have it all?  Or do I, as a wise friend has said, need to give it a bit more time? 

So does admitting what I feel, make me a bad mum or even a bad person? 

Surely I am not the only other mum (or dad) that feels or felt like this?  I can’t be the only one that finds it a struggle?  For me being a mum is only part of the whole person I am.

Agreeing with Boris....??

Now is fair to say that I am not a Boris Johnson fan (Mr P is which sums him up really) and I generally do not agree with him or his policies.  But I have to say his latest legislation proposal in that there should be a strike vote threshold before industrial action can take place makes absolute sense.  This of course centers on the RMT and their threat of a weeklong strike next week which thankfully now has been called off.

Figures were released yesterday that only 11% of the London Underground’s 3429 drivers voted for the strike action.  In an additional ballot of Bob Crow’s members only 46% turned out to vote!  Of the 46% only 379 voted for strike action.  Now you don’t have to be a mathematically genius to work out that this strike action was not agreed upon by the majority of the union members.  Therefore, why should a small number of members hold such power over the other union members plus the people of London?

David Cameron does not seem to keen to back Boris up either as he has not given any indication whether he is going to do something about it.  Perhaps he is trying to appease the Lib Dems who do not what to see changes made.   Surely with all the infighting within the coalition someone can see that Boris has got a good point here.  Especially with the London Mayoral elections next year can they not see how advantageous legislation like this would be for their campaign?  

It has been estimated that the last tube strike cost London £50 million a day, affecting well over 1 million users, surely in this hard economic times the government should be trying to do what they can to stop militant unionists from holding the city and its people to ransom.

A Tory mayor, a Tory lead government, a chance to begin to break the most militant unions in the country, a chance to back Ed Miliband into an uncomfortable position to support the unions (who got him the leadership) or not… what would Maggie T do?

Disclaimer: I don't vote Tory...

Who do I Respect?

Emma over at llmcalling tagged me in her new campaign of showing respect and admiration to others. To identify the people that we respect and admire and let them know.

Sound easy?  Well I have spent the last two days thinking about this, trying to single out one particular person, be they a politician, philanthropist, humanitarian, scientist etc whose work I admire and respect.  My list was endless and it was proving to be more difficult than I thought it would originally be.

Then the Ocado man arrived with the weekly shop and we got chatting and as he left I wished him “a good day” and then I realised...  Yes you can respect and admire people from afar but what about the people who serve you in restaurants, sit on the checkout at supermarkets, clean the streets, drive the buses, your neighbours, the list is endless.  Do we show respect for them? I would like to say as a society that we do but we have all seen incidents where we don’t.

So to answer the question, I like to think I show respect for everyone no matter what they do or where they are from.  As a 40 year old I still say “yes please” when asked if I want something, open doors for people, says “Thanks” and I even do the small talk that shop assistants (thinking M&S here) try and engage you in when I would rather not.  I admire the people who do the jobs I couldn’t or wouldn’t do knowing in some cases that they may have no other choice in what jobs they do.

Besides it puts a smile on my face when I give a big thank you to a sullen shop assistant and they get that startled rabbit in headlights look on their face.

Should I care?

Got a newsletter thru this morning from Son No1 school saying that for the royal wedding the children can come to school on the 29^th dressed as if they were going to a wedding or if they were a King, Queen, page boy etc.  Great I said somewhat sarcastically with rolled eyes.  That is now two outfits I need to sort out as they are doing something similar at Son no 2 nursery.  Now of course they are both entirely optional dress ups but we all know that it will be expected and if you were just to send them off in jeans and a shirt then there will be the tutting of disapproval as you didn’t make the effort for the wedding...

But really do I or should I care?

Now I do believe I am a bit of a monarchist since as I do come from a commonwealth country where the Queen is the recognised head of state.  Our history lessons at school were intertwined with the history of Great Britain, kings and Queens, both wars that sort of thing.  The traditions and pageantry are all rather fabulous. Also let’s face it Harry has turned out to be a bit of a hottie in the cheeky chappie\rugged solider\public school kind of way. 

But actually I am not feeling the joy of the occasion. Nor do I feel the need to join in the celebrations, to go to London to squeeze into the crowds, buy the souvenirs or even to watch it on TV during the day.  Besides I am sure there will be a highlights show on the Beeb later that night.  The reason for this is simple, we do not know each other, hard to believe in this celebrity obsessed culture that we live in but it’s true.  We are strangers to each other, our paths will never cross.  Yes, William will be someone that will be forever in history and perhaps that is why I should feel compelled to celebrate but is it enough?

So William and Catherine (Kate, far too common now) I do wish you well and I hope you can make your marriage work, which I am sure the Queen will be hoping as well.  But I’m afraid I will be one of the ones not celebrating with you.