Parasites and parenting

I sat with a dear male friend last night and whilst he was keen not too - I pushed him on an area of his life that is a little tricky. He loves his other half. She love him. He doesn't want children, she does.

I took the hard arse route, as is my way and partly from a weariness of mens inability to understand that women fill in the gaps with words they want to hear. As a collective group, we need to understand if there is a gap, it's because there is nothing in it.

Women think "If I love him long enough that he will eventually come around". Most men avoid thinking on the basis that if they are not thinking about it, the whole thing will go away (even if he knows it won't).

So as hard arse militant female, I point out (and no, he didn't ask me to) that if he doesn't want to have children then he needs to end the relationship and allow her the chance to find someone that does want children. Hard to do when you love someone, but in the end it will be a relationship filled with resentment or with children that weren't really wanted. I have vivid recollections of the night 'It' shared that he had never wanted the twins, but thought it might make our marriage better. Since it ended in divorce, I guess he was right.

It became clear that the real crux of the matter was dear male chum did not know if he wanted children and there were perhaps some deep routed reasons for his reluctance. And that's the crux, he was looking for answers to questions most of us don't ask until it's too late.

So to the male friend that doesn't know if he wants children - it's a healthy start. Maybe you do, maybe you don't, but there are no answers to anything, certainly no guarantees. You may hate parenthood, you may love it. It is hard, heartbreaking and tiring with periods of mirth scattered amongst many years of tiresome slog. It's not about you, it's about them and they will serve no real purpose in the short term.

As one famous for voicing thoughts, I have spent several years of my life loading washing machines, finding cereal bowls under wall hung loos and picking cornflakes out of my underwear drawer and asking myself 'What exactly is the benefit of having children? and never really coming up with a conclusive answer.

So tonight I revisit a website forum from the early days of being a mother of multiples, and discover that the 10 year old son of one of the regular posters has just lost his fight for life. Then I finally understood the day to day purpose in having children. The benefit is intangible, it is unseen. It is the kind of love that you do not know how deep it runs until you have something go terribly wrong or if you have the most painful experience in life of losing a child.

Having children is a pre-programmed need to keep the human race going, little more. For those that think that they bring some sense of meaning to your life, prepare to be disappointed because on a day to day level - they can make your life pretty meaningless. You need to be looking at the wider picture. Look not at what you seek to gain but at what you will gain from giving.

Children will drive you insane, they will leave you exhausted, frustrated and feeling like a total failure. Yet they can only do this if you were hoping to gain something from having them. An unwise expectation.

Yet if there was one role that children have that they do well - it is that they make you less selfish. Parenting is about giving and those that fail to do so, fail to gain anything from the experience of having children.

Children are parasites by nature, they take everything from you in order to survive. Once they have mastered the art of feeding themselves and stealing chocolate from every known stash in the house, they take your possessions and your money and once thats over, they take your sanity. Only at the point that you expect nothing from them, is when you see what you gain.

And it's this: when you learn to truly give, you gain a level of pleasure only attained when not seeking in return. If you were not loved as a child, you won't fill the gap when you are an adult - you will just spend a lifetime trying to be a better parent than yours were. When you were marginalised as a child through lack of opportunity and you push your child to achieve, don't be surprised if your child sticks two fingers in the air and refuse to gain employment in anything more than the local kitchen. When you buy your child gifts instead of time, do not raise an eyebrow that they do not want to spend Christmas with you. Their purpose is not to make you feel fabulous and validate the choice to have them, their purpose is to grow into a loved individual who carries on the human race.

And giving to that degree is what good parents do because children do not ask to be born, we choose to have them. They are not here to serve you a purpose, they are here to continue the human race and whilst we all think of ourselves as having given up so much of our lives in having them -we don't realise just how much they gave us, until they leave. Or die.

And only those that have suffered the unimaginable pain of losing a child will understand just how deep routed that love is, just how much their lives were changed as a result of that child being born and just how much they really gained from that short period.

As for my dear male friend. You would make a great Dad.

x

It's all relative, unfortunately

It always fascinates me that the expectation is that relatives are the ones that support you no matter what, whilst friends come and go.

It is a strange expectation since the reality is that friends generally support you no matter what and relatives generally, annoy the hell out of you.

The last couple of weeks has seen an upward rise in my level of sheer exhaustion. For some reason life has been a tad relentless and not even the weekend provided for a later start. From teenage pick ups to Sunday morning Rugby - as much as I hankered for a little loafing under goose down, it wasn't going to happen.

It's when really tired that I find it hardest to switch off and so, with no common sense whatsoever - I embark on insane de-cluttering. Within 4 days I had removed 4 packing boxes full of 'stuff' and deposited them across Wiltshire's charity shops. My huge jar for make up, one for nails, one for hair - an entire Georgian cupboard full of body lotion and boob tape, a medicine cabinet reminiscent of a pharmacy and a store cupboard worthy of a nuclear shelter. Everything was halved.

Including my energy levels. Monday morning felt like a Friday, starting a little chaotically when I realised I had neglected to buy food. The week deteriotes. Everyday at work alongside trying to sling in 2 parents consultations, one 3 hour meeting with the visual impairment team, the EA IT specialist, Head of year and Head of SEN to try and trash out a solution to the multitude of problems for one of the offspring. Tuesday sees a home visit from VI lady and the mobility specialist. By the time they left, I had 8 minutes to get to a business pitch. By the time that finished, I had 26 minutes to finish some work that was sure to take longer. And so the week has gone on.

Then there are the minor things, like keeping up with the washing and mess created by four other people sharing your space, the 45 emotional melt down, the big argument with one child, the homework, the general chaos and having to find time for a bath every morning.

Last week was little better and at one weak moment, commented to a member of the family that I was in fact, utterly exhausted. Following a typically relative reply about how they had done their time working, I pointed out that they had never had the added bonus of being a single parent to four children.

'Well" they said "It was your choice"

"I beg your pardon" I reply in my most incredulous voice (IIIII BEG your parduuun?)

When (not unreasonably, I thought) point out that no one in their right mind would have 4 children by themselves through choice and in fact, not only had the ex husband been really very controlling, he had been doing things he ought not with a woman with a preference for married men and Polyester. Clearly if anyone was making a choice, it was him (And thank god he did) Given the circumstances, I think choice was a most irritating view.

"Well" they say "You could have forgiven him"

Thank god for friends.

Two sides of the same coin

To a man I was in a relationship with, "Everytime we hurt someone, we make it a little harder for that person to love the next"

Since he nodded his head vehemently, I took that to mean he understood the concept. He may well have done but on reflection, failedd to grasp the responsibility in the statemnet. It seems that for some, for whatever reason - there own issues overtake the need to make sure that those who have been close are not unnecessarily damaged in the process of knowing them.

So this is where I ponder the responsibility. I have realised of late that following the couple of relationsships that I have had, I am developing a deep sense of mistrust in others. If it was an overall scepticism, I could probably live with that but this is a full scale analytical panic if any man is nice to me. In my head runs the same script "Why are they being nice, what do they want, are they flirting, are they making a play, are they trying to screw with my head"?

It is a deeply disturbing experience. I want to believe in the good, I want to believe in authenticity, of kindness. Ireally, genuinly, wholeheartedly want to believe that people are genuine but if they have a penis, I have a million red flags flying.

I hate thinking like this. It seems I have gone from one end of the spectrum of trust to the other and it is not a pleasent experience. If a man is being nice, is being genuine - then he probably wants to have sex and he will undoubtedly try to screw with my mind at the same time.

In midst of full on panic that someone was about to mess with my mind, I phone a friend. A male friend. I snivel down the phone that I cannot bear not trusting people. He tells me never to trust any man. Great.

So now I have to question the responsibility issue. Is it someone else's responsibility to make sure that your trust in humans is not anhilated by their behaviour or actions, or is it mine for allowing the actions of others to have a negative impact on the way I view the world.

I am really not sure but I profoundly hope that any impact I have had on men I have ever been in arelationship - is not one that makes it harder for them to care about the next person.

Friends with benefits

"When I first met you, you were one of the most intelligent women I had ever met"

Pause.....

"And over time, you have just got progressively thicker"

It would be easy to take offense at such comment, butit is quite the most amusing thing anyone has ever said to me. More than that, there is clear truth in its content. Sometimes I say things that surprise me with unexpected astuteness and other times, I say things so spectacularly stupid they border on impressive.

Last week I had a text from a man who kindly told me that I light up the lives of others. In the same text he told me that I was erudite. I had to google the word.I now suspect that I light up the lives of others, primarily due to my moments of utter and complete denseness.

It was in this text I had to consider other areas of stupidity. Such as having an extensive collection of utterly gorgeous male friends. I love male friends. Male friends are straight in what they say, they have (on the whole) a sharper humour, less sides and are less interested in fluff. They also speak less than I do, which is pretty convenient, since I rarely pause for breath.

Married, in relationships or single, male friends are my bench mark for emotional security. They make me laugh, they roll their eyes in affection, they hug me if on rare occasion I cry and they are always, always kind. More than this, my male friends are safe because they are all emotionally stable and secure.

Which makes me wonder why none of the beautiful male friends I have in my life are men that I would ever date. This alone must indicate some spectacular level of dimness. I find them all attractive in their own way but not one of them has ever sparked chemistry. And that is because they are lovely. If I put them into a dating category they would only say nie things until they got what they wanted. Keep them in the friendship category and they always say nice things. I have long said that the idea of something is always better than the reality. One of my oldest sexiest male friends is a man I went out with in my 20's. I never slept with him and swear blind that this is why we are still friends. I recognise that I may have some control issues going on here!

One of my dearest friends is a man I met on a date. I adore him, he more than tolerates me. I love his children, he loves mine. We go out regularly together, we go on holiday together. Yet despite the fact that we get on so well, I feel no chemistry and as such,not even a kiss has passed between us. In between dating and in moments of boredom I will get random texts asking me for some sort of sexual favour, but we both know that once my mind is made up, nothing will change it.

And like all of my male friends; if he wasn't so nice, wasn't so stable, wasn't so dependable I would probably find him stimulating in a multitude of ways. Now that is stupidity.

Or is it? Any relationship that starts with chemistry will surely develop into a calmer state in which friendship, respect, tolerance and most of all - acceptance will become primary features. And yet it is this state of acceptance, perhaps contentment that causes the likes of people like me to break out in a cold sweat.

Which makes me wonder - what in gods name is contentment? Is it a compromise, a word with negative association - of old couples that want nothing and totter about in anticipation of Coronation Street being aired. When I was married I accepted my lot but I never felt contented, I spent most of it wondering what life would be like if you met your soulmate.

So in fact, if contended is not wanting for more but being contended with what you have then perhaps contended is better than acceptance. Then again, perhaps you only reach contented when you have reached acceptance of yourself and others. Acceptance is clearly about accepting the things youcannot change and sotrting out the crap in the things you can.

Perhaps it is all simply too confusing.

An interesting supper party

I have made two decisions this week, the first was to restart the Gym membership. Following last years collapse I am trying to avoid looking at any more Russian army exercise videos on you tube. I am also trying to hypnotise myself so that when the instructor say's "Women are not designed to do these kind of exercises" that I simply smile and nod in agreement instead of trying to prove him wrong.

I was immensely chuffed to prove him wrong but the smugness of doing so lasted 3 weeks until the big collapse. As a result, a year later and I can't do any. So I am rejoining the gym for the use of the steam room. I may venture into the gym. The words 'well toned' are just a little compelling.

The other decision I made was to have an interesting supper party. I thought about doing this six months ago but think many things that I never actually do. So I decided to just get on with it.

My interesting supper party is inviting people for supper that I have found interesting. I don't really know them, but for the brief period I met them, they interested me. Based on the theory that everyone comes into your life for a reason, I figured that it would simply be interesting to have interesting people around.

So far, I have invited my work colleague, just because she is utterly gorgeous. Her husband is insane and very interesting, so he got an invite. Then there is a man that has started many companies, almost all with an eco edge. Met through a meeting he requested about marketing, the conversation soon left work and moved into Shamanism - definitely interesting.

Guest no 4 is the Marketeer with his own branding agency. I met him for no more than 20 minutes at a gallery opening. The conversation was entirely on the definition of masculinity. Since I have a growing and enthusiastic appreciation for masculinity, it fascinated me to meet a man that was so well read on the subject.

Supper party guest number 5 is a woman I met for no more than 10 minutes about 9 years ago. An ex 80's minor pop star that then went onto start a successful business, we struck up a conversation in a doctors surgery abut a book called 'The Indigo children' She was very interesting. Thankfully she remembered meeting me and is delighted to be coming.

Guests no 6 is a little tricky. She doesn't want to come without her husband, despite the fact that she is interesting on her own. I had to say no, since this is my evening of people that are interesting and I have never met her husband. Perhaps a little harsh, but bringing unmet spouses would blow the reason for having this supper. Besides, since I do not have a husband and even when I did, would merrily go out without him - I have too little empathy to bend the rules. I shall work on her, she needs to be there.

Guest number 7 is a thoroughly interesting female who has one of the most interesting families you could ever meet. Every one in it is about as creative as it is possible to be. Since I cannot invite all 6 of them, she will have to be the spokesperson.

I am toying with inviting another man, met on a business course - that was so at peace with himself and the world around, such utter acceptance that he could have been Buddha himself. I am debating his invite. I am not convinced he will find us interesting enough.

I, of course will be there. This on the basis that my claim to being interesting is that I had the idea of the interesting supper party. If this workout, I shall rename it the interesting supper-club. Each month, I shall invite 4 interesting people and they will be required to each invite an interesting person they have met.

So that is it. An interesting idea

Sex on my mind

I have been thinking about sex lately. A lot. In fact, there have been times when it has all I have been able to think about.

Today I had a meeting. Quite an important one in which I had to prep thoroughly to ensure that nothing but confident knowledge was exuded. In a momentary pause, I googled the man I was due to meet. 'Not bad' I thought - so I googled a little more. Then I stumbled across a picture that included his forearms.

I have for some time recognised that I can lose all rational thought process when confronted with well toned muscle and alas, this man had a dangerous combination of extremely muscular forearms and the slightly mischievous trade mark look of a player. Sadly, it is a combination that I find compelling. Dangerous but compelling. I knew I was heading into dangerous territory.

So the meeting went ahead. We talked of strategy, policy and messaging. By the end of the meeting, the raised eyebrow appeared. The one that say's "You are not what I was expecting" then the look that you know that should you wish that the work remit extended, it would take no more than a little cerebral dance and it's a done deal.

So another meeting has been arranged, in a pub. Strictly business at this point but strictly speaking, possibly not. Since I have had nothing but fairly inappropriate thoughts for some time - I made up my mind that I was going to drop my stance on meaningless sex and just start having meaningless sex. It lasted until about 9pm until I went to the garage and was blatantly checked out by two men.

I realised that meaningless sex was no more than momentary gratification. I could repackage as being in control, taking the pleasure without the grief of intimacy and without the risk of hurt. By ruling out a relationship, I would be in control. If I was in control, I just got sex when I felt like it and could just take physical pleasure.

And here is the reality. Devaluing my own view of sex and intimacy and convincing myself that I would be in control - was a guaranteed passport to misery. Devaluing sex would simply anaesthetise myself to true intimacy. I am not talking about life long commitment, but the level of intimacy you can reach when someone trusts you with their body and mind and them yours. Sex for sex's sake is never going to be as good as sex with someone with which there is a connection that is more than gratification or validation. A connection deeper than carnal need.

Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with carnal need, but if I switched off the emotional side simply to have sex with men I barely knew, than I would be living on a permanent power high. And it is a high that you would risk being addicted to. No single person would ever match that hit on a long term level and so I would create a cycle difficult to break.

And lets face it, it wouldn't be hard to achieve. If you put your mind to it, there is no more difficulty in finding willing participants than there is finding a petrol station. And this is the bit I don't get - there is no challenge. It doesn't take long before you can instantly spot the signs of someone willing to go the distance. It's simply too easy, like candy from a child. There is no true respect involved and aside from the instantaneous gratification, the long term emotional risks are too high.

Mind blowing sex is not technique, it is a level reached when two people have attained a level of emotional intimacy that is equal and shared. You can only reach that plateau when you completely accept another person. Respecting and embracing the opposite sex is also a step up the ladder towards the kind of sex that creates a healthy addiction.

Tempting as it was brief, I shall not be venturing into the chalk it up approach to sex. If I don't respect myself or anyone else, than it would seem unreasonable to expect anyone to respect me. Though I loved the idea for a moment, I know that it would be a slippery emotional slope that it would be difficult to climb back up from.

So I shall carry on being old fashioned in my view. I like being able to remember the men I have been intimate with. I like that I can remember individual and unique things about them, I like the fact that my feeling was sufficient for them then, that even after, I would choose only for them to be happy. To be so anaesthetised to intimacy that I would struggle to remember names is not a route I aspire to travel.

And so I shall remain old fashioned and very frustrated.

Delivery of my new baby

I am having a lull in shoe fixes. Another torn meniscus and the longest and most hated ban on heels in the history of shoe addiction has had to see a change in purchasing high.

Meet my new baby. He took me days of reading to choose (don't start me on the the benefits of the aluminium clips) and a further 5 days to make the final decision. I could have saved a sum but could not wait. He will be here tomorrow ( I know since I am tracking his DHL status.

I have always hankered after a pressure washer.

So utterly excited and a little worried about that level of excitement