Drinking partners and dementia

A friend called this afternoon to find out what I had thought of Monday night.

'What happened on Monday night' Said I

'You met that man for a drink' She said

She pointed out that since it was already Weds and I had forgotten Monday, that this was unlikely to go any further. Since I had forgotten I had gone, I had given no thought to going again.

As a guide for dating, it's a good one

A Defensive Move

One of the things that I have always found moderately disconcerting about myself, is my ability to run 100 things through my head at the same time as having a conversation.

I went out tonight with close friend and we discussed everything. At the same time as discussing everything I ran several things through my head simultaneously. The first was the Mother-in-law/husband thing. The conclusion I reached was that normality is relative. Their level of normality is so far removed from mine, and that of most people - that there is no chance of them ever seeing their behaviour is a different way, since the way they behave is entirely normal. To them.

The other thought I had was that the Divorce and upcoming court case is the death knell for eldest child and fatherly relationship. I think there is a sad certainty that since his father appears blinded by the true cost of all of this, the only thing he will gain is the absolute certainty that he will lose his son for good. Fortunately I am not in the position myself but should I ever have to choose between money and my children's respect well frankly, it would be a non brainer. I feel much the same about my own self respect.

On another note. Ex blind date has told me (and he is not the first) that I have the emotional responses of a man. Having read some of his texts from women, I was genuinely shocked at how girly some of them where. Apparently, my shock is misplaced since I am, as he says 'not like most women'.

I received a text the other day from a man who suggested we meet for a drink. I was unable reply for hours since I could not find the right words. If I wrote that would be great, or 'that would be lovely' he may think I was keen. I was perplexed, not for want of game playing but purely because I didn't know if I wanted to go or not. Nice legs, very good thighs but a man that didn't appear to get me and in my mind: if you don't get me, you won't get me.

So I deliberated all day and in the end wrote 'On the drink front -that's fine' Granted not girly but I am past any stage where I feel any need to try and impress anyone with something I am not. So I met him, I had a good evening but at the end of it, he made a couple of assumptions that got my back up and that was it, door shut.

I though about it and realised something else. Shutting the door on something is about me being defensive. People can make me cry with ease and yet they think that I am the last person to have this response. Those that get to see me do it more than once are few and far between. Last night hook up thought he should tell me that I was clearly very strong and he had heard I was pretty feisty.

I can be strong, I can be feisty but as I learnt this year, I am also very susceptible to being very hurt and it is not somewhere I want to revisit. Getting to know someone is no doubt about them getting to know that you are not quite as the world assumes that you are. This is the point that they can trample all over you. The minute people feel they can make personal assumptions about me, I want to cry and this is the moment that I turn into an emotional hard arse.

So for the man that thought I was strong and feisty, the door is shut.

The joy of work

I can hardly bare the excitement.

I have calculated the benefit of working full time. Factor in the increase in income and the decrease in tax credits and it is a staggering........£56.00 a month.

I am so excited and simply cannot decide how to spend it. Or I was until I added the extra childcare I need and worked out that in fact., I am worse off.

On a positive note, it can only improve

The true cost of parenting

A horrid few days.

After a 18 months of abuse, he that should not be mentioned emails to ask if I need any help with childcare in the holidays. With only 3 weeks until the next court date, suspicion is aroused. Apparently he is no longer angry. Since any increase in contact has previously led to a decrease in income, I remain sceptical.

Having agreed that he would not want his children to be raised in Trowbridge, he then went on to tell me all of he reasons why his children should be raised in Trowbridge. Non of those reasons were for the benefit of the children.

Then I receive an email from his parents. An email in which they were utterly horrid about their eldest Grandparent. Apparently, adding to the acrimony, telling a child you will take sides and that you loathe his Mother is all perfectly acceptable as long as you send gifts. When said child has no wish to accept the gifts on the basis that the behaviour was such that should not warrant being condoned - then you are free to send an email stating that this child is selfish, spiteful, ignorant and self centred.

So I send an email back stating that I am glad that they feel comfortable behaving in such an unkind manner, but their need to be so mean about their Grandson said more about them than it ever could about him. The response back..... I need some form of therapy.

And perhaps they are right. But the difference is that if I thought I needed counselling, I would get it. In fact, since having had to come to terms with what really went on with this marriage - I did have therapy. Far more dangerous are those that think they are beyond any need.

So I range he who should not be mentioned, who considered there was nothing really wrong with his parents latest correspondence and since he didn't write it - it had nothing to do with him. It appears that he believes that since my own family and one of his, have wisely and maturely taken the course of not putting the children in the middle of this, they must be ****** saints.

They will be delighted. My father spent most of my childhood claiming he was in fact, God.

And perhaps I thought so too. I certainly placed him on his very own pedestal. One that he fell off for a long period until I accepted that he was in fact human. That is the thing about parenthood, we all stuff up and we all make mistakes but surely the mark of a good parent is one that can accept those imperfect moves and acknowledge them. When it comes to my own offspring, I refuse to sort every little thing for them, but when it comes to protecting them emotionally then you had better be prepared for a long fight.

For a 15 year old to witness a broken home is not a great thing. I fear far worse than of a younger age. A pinnacle and confusing period of your life and one that can probably leave a bigger impact than at any other time. Suddenly your life is turned upside down. Your standard of living drops, you have no stability since you don't know if you are staying in your home. Too stubborn to articulate, too proud to acknowledge fear and hurt, then it is down to the adults around to be in tune with what is really going on. For those adults that cannot acknowledge this, they may as well stamp on his head.

For any child that remains this angry or this stubborn has an issue and one that is completely understandable. What is not, are the actions of anyone that adds to it. For Grandparents to feel they have the right or desire to write words that can only cause hurt and for a Father that fails to acknowledge any responsibility in contributing to a situation where one child has felt he had to make such a stand that he refuses contact with both.

Sometimes Divorce is necessary. The acrimony, the extended damage to children and using property and money to try and exert power over another is not. It is clear that there are some that will fight for everything they can get at the cost of everyone else.

Maybe they will get what they want, but in doing so will risk losing the things that make life what it is. Friendship comes from giving, Love comes from giving, respect comes from giving, integrity from within.

All cost nothing and all are priceless. When you can look someone in the eye, you know you are being genuine.

So the children's future is dependent on me to provide it and a third party to decide what is best for them. It should be the parents but given the current situation, this has to be a better option

I remain sceptical.

A steady stream....

Many years ago, after a night of copious alcohol, a very good friend of mine mistook me for a lamppost and wee'd on me. Fortunately, I had consumed a comparable amount and thought it no more than a mental aberration. Until I woke up in the morning.

I had thought it was the only time in my life that I would be mistaken for council furnishing but it appears I was incorrect.

One of the small offspring has been unsettled for a period. Irregular night terrors, regular night time wanderings that invariably end in my bed, overly vocal in declaring undying love and a propensity to declare adoration at the drop of a hat. There are conversations that have been had, tucked up in bed with a stuffed kangaroo that have made the reasons understandable, but none I thought that would lead to a second incantation as a lamp post.

I was asked recently if people get married after they are divorced. Having assured him that I was in no rush to consider such venture, small child had proceeded to state that when Daddy gets better, perhaps we may remarry. Somewhat confused at the better part of the statement, it became clear when he stated that Daddy may get 'Better at being nice to you'

And therein lies one of the route causes. Children are not stupid, the observe and then they come up with their own conclusion. Months of watching Daddy not be able to be civil in response to any verbal contact, Daddy refusing all eye contact and Daddy walking behind Mummy without speaking on the few unfortunate occasions that we have shared tarmac. Since their friends have questioned the normality of the situation - you can magnify that thought process by about one thousand.

So the unsettled nights have been no surprise and the fact that they have continues even less surprising. Finding small distraught child crying on the top of the stairs 4 hours after he went to bed was not necessarily a surprise. What I didn't anticipate was the lamppost. As I walked up the stairs, I did take note of a strange sensation on my stomach, I noted it even more as it continued down my body. By the time we were at mid thigh level, I realised that I was in fact being urinated on.

Great. I am a lamppost.

WHEN THE BALANCE IS IN MY FAVOUR

I have a love hate relationship with Birthdays. I say that they don't bother me and then they leave me feeling flat. It is not an age thing in the slightest, I have never associated a single day as a point that defines my mortality. Besides, the older I get, the happier I feel and the more sorted my mind becomes. Despite this, I still associate it with a time of expectation that invariably fails to deliver. The best protection has always been to expect nothing.

Perhaps it is not this at all. The minute that I am told that something is the way it is, or should be the way it will be, I want to challenge it. Like booking a a taxi for a night out will guarantee a worthless evening. Preparing for a worthless evening and driving the car, is normally sufficient to guarantee a fantastic night.

So tonight I was proved wrong. Stage one birthday was spent consuming too much Vodka and ended with in depth conversation into the early hour with ex blind dates chum and another founding member of the 'Single people at Sunday Lunch Club. It also ended with the sobering realisation that my car was in a part of Wiltshire which I was not.

Apparently 'proper' birthday celebration was delayed until the weekend for the benefit of the boys, who are quite partial to birthday celebration and particularly ones in which cake is involved.

I have said it numerous times, but I feel immeasurably privileged with friends. With all the rubbish being thrown my way in terms of Divorce and trying to financially manage 4 children - I fear that I would be in a very different place without my army of buddies. No matter that sometimes I feel that I am not dealing with things as well as I might - there is always someone that gives me a hug, or simply demands an explanation if there is anything less than a spring in my step. Tonight, when I had a moment of somewhat subdued demeana, rarely witnessed by others - one of the mafia congratulated me. Apparently, so used to me being positive and full of determination, they all breath a sigh of relief when I am quiet, since it means that I am relaxed enough to be myself. Fair point. A word of warning though, if I am quiet, have a set jaw and am staring at you directly - it could be time for you to be alarmed.

So birthday stage 2 and its perfect execution. Child 2 makes an enormous chocolate cake. Admittedly it takes two hours to clear up the kitchen but it was a fabulous offering. The evening has been carefully orchestrated and I am not allowed a part, except attendance. At 7pm, someone turns up to put my children in the bath. I am then ordered the same. A scented candle lit in preparation and as lie amidst the bubbles, a knock on the door and a glass of chilled wine appears by the side of the bath.

By the time I appear, there are others and an accompanying abundance of food. Child 2 has found lights for the chair, the table is laid and flowers and tea lights have arrived. I have not lifted a finger. Sometimes, with the divorce, the pittance of maintenance and It's determination to force a sale, I wonder what I could possibly have done to deserve the way he has behaved towards us. Yet In balance, I wonder what I have done to deserve tremendous friends. Who knows, perhaps some form of balance.

It is the perfect birthday celebration: out of my control, perfect children, perfect friends and a perfect evening.

Perfect xx

A Sporting Chance

Sometimes I look at the boys and feel overwhelming pride. Sports Day is one such time. Not because they can kick arse on the track, nor can they throw further and harder than any one else but simply because they are unbearably cute.

Every year I get to Sports Day a few minutes late. Every year I watch them scanning the sea of faces to make sure that I am there. Every year they stand there grinning and waving so much that they almost miss their place. Every year I look at these scrawny creatures with their innocent happy faces and want to eat them. By the time they get home they are tired, bad tempered and I want to jump on their head.

Not this year though. Yesterday was my birthday and they spent it with he that is best not mentioned. Today they came home from Sports Day tired, hot and secretive. They disappear for long periods, reappearing once in a while asking for another piece of fruit. Since hunger is a common sensation after school and particularly so on a day of great physical exertion, it was of little surprise.

And then they both crept in, bearing a birthday gift of fruitt salad with homegrown strawberries and the last of a much favourite melon, all garnished with flowers.

Now I really want to eat them. If they retain any part of their ability to love and to be loved, then stand a sporting chance of happiness as an adult. And the makings of what makes a real man.
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