Keltic's World

Morning Ramble and Men In Shorts

2006-05-22T11:44:34+02:00

Jeeesh! I'm bored.

All the housework was done last night because surveyors came today, the landlord is switching mortgages. So my usual Monday mad rush to get the house back to some sort of normality after the weekend is gone. Mind you, I've been very organised, managed to fill in forms and write letters that usually I put off, every cloud and all that.

I've smoked about 40 cigarettes through boredom. Hey - if all else fails, kill yourself slowly! I'd pop into town or to the leisure center, I want to sign up for the yoga class, but I have to be out again in just over an hour to get Mr Autistic to his appointment. I made Madam's appointment to have her cast re-done, it's almost falling off, that's got to be Wednesday morning. I couldn't make today because of the appointment this afternoon, tomorrow morning I can't do as Mr Autism is getting an award in assembly and I have to be there. Tomorrow afternoon is off the cards because I'd never be back in time to collect the other two.

And I am determined to find a job that allows me to fit all this in? I'm dreaming. And yet other weeks, nothing happens. I just be mum, do housework and complain that there's nothing to do.

I am developing a plan, though, the problem is that it involves Mr Perfect knocking my door and us falling head over heels in love for ever and ever. I need to work on plan B, but it's not got very far.

Plan B has got as far as, get a job. Beyond that it all falls down because the kids keep needing bloody appointments and it sort of gets in the way of the perfect term-time only 10-2 employment that I need.

Plan A is much better, and I have the added bonus of sleeping with Mr Perfect too. Mr Perfect you see, comes along. He is of course, very good looking but not vain. He is well-off financially, but not stinking rich. He loves my kids and they love him. He doesn't want too much from me, he simply wants me to allow him to be in my life as and when I choose - I'm in charge you see because he knows what a lucky beggar he is. Hey - it's not everyday Mr Perfect bags a single mum of 3 on benefits is it? Anyway, he'll have the sort of job that he can take time out of to do ferrying to school and various appointments and so on, leaving me to work as and when I want to. Oh, he also loves cooking, cleaning and ironing and believes that I do enough all day by escaping to work and coming home to my children.

Hmmmm, if anyone happens to bump into Mr Perfect, can you send him along to me please? I'm kind of waiting.

I am thoroughly fed up with the weather. I got all excited because we had nice weather and now it's constant rain and I'm miserable. My bulbs are coming up, I want to weed. The grass needs doing and I have plans for the bottom of the back garden. I need to finish the border at the front. It's taking me hours to dry out after the school run, let alone gardening! And in the midst of all this, we have a drought!

Britains and weather are useless. For a nation obssessed by weather, we're pretty useless at dealing with it. Droughts occur because we hope that it will rain soon and so nothing is done until it's much too late and we're at standpipe stage. Snow; we've never been able to cope with snow. I mean, come on, we get it every single year, over months and months - and the whole of Britain comes to a standstill. Right at the top of the Italian Alps, I have caught a bus to go shopping in Turin before now. Now, you see, being in a snowy, mountainous range and all that, this village figured that if they know they have snow, they ought to prepare for snow, and they did, and the world didn't end. So what's so different with us?

I promise you, in a few weeks, people will be complaining. "Oooh, it's TOO hot!". What???? Grrrrr. It's too cold, it's too wet, it's too hot, it's too dry. Exactly what weather do we British want? Something vauguely warm, maybe a slight drop of rain during the night to keep the resevoirs full? Besides, there is no such thing as too hot. Hot is good, the hotter the better.

There is nothing nicer than feeling the sun dry the small layer of sweat on your skin the second you step outside. There is everything good about stinking of coconut oil and being smeared with factor 20 sun lotion. It's wonderful to go inside to cool off and have to wait 5 minutes for your eyes to adjust to the 'dark'.

It will come, and we'll know it's here. You know summer is deinitely here when men get their shorts out. Most men have one pair of shorts, they bought them at the age of 17 and 30 years later they still fetch them out for those hot, rare days of summer. Elasticated, the shorts are likely to be baggy, out of shape and garishly patterned. Our European counterparts wear shorts with style, our men wear shorts because it's hot. And because it's hot, what footwear do our wonderful British men wear? Trainers, without socks. Perfect for hot weather. Not only do they look awful, the very idea of those trainers coming off is enough to make any sane man, woman or child run a mile. The bellies come out too. Woman still get scorned at if they have a bit of a tummy and dare wear something small during the hot weather. But not men - oh no! It is by all accounts, absolutely imperitive that men with bellies should let them hang over their fetching shorts, their pert and lovely man boobs making me seethe with jealousy. Maybe there is a reason for it, maybe the shadow cast by the vast beer bellies keeps their feet cool and hence the sockless feet in plastic trainers are the health issue I initally believed.

Who knows?

Comments

Pah!

2006-05-21T22:11:09+02:00

What else can I say?

Hmmm, where to start? Ex is violent and abusive and I have tried every which way to keep access going for the sake of the kids. To cut a long story short, he's gone too far and I'm too far past caring to be having him in my life anymore. I suggested an access center, he says no.

It seems the reason he says no to an access center is because it's what I want - and therefore that's a good and just cause to not do it. I've been called all the names under the sun while trying to assertain whether he would go for the access route as it enables him to build and maintain a relationship with the kids until something else is sorted out.

He has said he's going to 'do one'. Apparently, this means he's going to disappear - oh if only I believed he had the balls!

Of course, this is all my fault. I have made decisions and choices since the split purely to upset him, because I can't get over him. It all makes sense to me now. I didn't run 50 miles away so he couldn't come round the house and beat me up, I did it to piss him off! I haven't tried everything possible at all to allow him to see the kids, because he should simply be allowed to come and get the kids anytime he likes and while he's doing it, he can do and say what the hell he likes to me. I'm just evil. He is of course justified in his behaviour, because he hates me. So I suppose that makes it OK and I just have to learn to live with it. I am being sooo unreasonable.

Of course, even my love life is simply there to annoy him. I'm shagging everyone according to my ever so sane and lovely ex. I've always got men round here, around the kids pretending to be Daddy, and of course I am a crap mum and this has been proven by my daughter falling and breaking her arm.

He has promised that one day, in years to come he is going to find the children. He has decided you see, that it's not worth bothering with them now, it's too much hassle - and that is of course purely and totally my fault. He says that when he does find them he is going to tell them how it is my fault.

I'm shitting myself. I'm dreading the day my kids are in their 20s or 30s and they knock my door to tell me that they hate me. How dare I leave a violent, adulterous husband when he didn't want me to? How dare I flee so far away after he became increasingly aggressive and tried to kill me. How dare I get an injunction out against a man who constantly verbally, emotionally and physically abuses me, using the children as the point of access to enable him to do so. How dare I suggest an access center as a means of allowing them to continue seeing him, I should have known he wouldn't want that at all!

Yep - my kids are going to turn around and tell me that maybe he was unfaithful, maybe he did sexually assault their aunt, maybe he did abuse me, but it was MY decision to leave him, MY fault we're divorced. They'll never forgive me for moving to a place so far away that I didn't feel under threat, no, they will understand that I simply moved to upset their dad because I'm nasty like that. They'll understand totally their father's reasons for walking out of their lives because after all, why should he do something he doesn't want to do?

I'm shitting myself I am.

Anyway, other stuff. This Mr X thing is sort of going nowhere. It's one of those situations where there is more being said by what's not being said. When certain issues are avoided, when a bit of flirting starts and then suddenly stops as we come to our senses and realise what we're doing. I don't know that I've got the balls to say anything, and I don't think he has either. It's friggin barmy though, we obviously like each other, and it's not like nothing has ever happened between us. I think it was the reaction of both of us after the 'incident' that has put the distance there. I'm sure he thinks I'm not interested and although the flirting and hints are there, in big neon flashing lights, I'm convinced that he's not interested. Pretty soon we're going to run out of excuses to make contact so either one of us has to crack, or we'll go our seperate ways. I hope he cracks - I'm not brave enough!

I'm so not loving Big Brother. It's a bit of a slow starter and I've found that I just don't care what happens or how they react. Maybe I've finally grown out of it? I had a proper saddo night last night. I watched the Eurovision and had a bottle of wine, I've not watched it in years - it hasn't improved, lol. Well worth it though for Terry Wogan's commentary.

The weather is getting on my nerves. Where's the sun gone? My lawn needs mowing, I need tanning and I am fed up of having wet hair!

Have son's appointment tomorrow, the one that should have happened last week, except for arsehole's behaviour (which is of course, all my fault). I'm hoping and hoping that in this district we actually get some proper help. Staffordshire were useless, not worth the time of day. I am keeping my fingers crossed that this might be a person who can actually prescribe something to make him sleep. My life would be transformed if he would sleep. It seems that because the meds he needs are not for children, not any old doctor can prescribe them. I have been waiting five years to come across the doctor that can.

As I said - Pah!

Comments

Try Again

2006-05-19T14:05:32+02:00

Ok,I'm calmer

Right, so son missed his appointment but it has been rearranged, for Monday which is excellent! I also figured arsehole's behaviour will only help me in the future too. I suppose the only route left open to him is supervised access, but he's as good as told me that if it comes to that he wants it near him because he's not travelling up here, rofl! I so hope he pushes that point if he ever does it anywhere. Though whether he will or not, I'll just have to wait and see. He seems to think that I should be the one organising access and that I should be putting myself out for his sake. Maybe he doesn't actually realise that I don't give a hoot - if I never saw him again it would be too soon.

So, last night I watched the new Big Brother. It looks like it's going to be good, a bunch of total freaks, all egotistical - let's hope that the public are warming to the idea of not booting the nice ones out this time. I think there was one I figured seemed OK, good start!

I am sooooo bored today! The last couple of days I've done the house good and proper. Not my usual tidy round and clean, but really good. And now it's all done and there's nothing left to do and I'm bored to tears. I could do the attic, it's an absolute bomb up there, but it's the kids' space. We have an agreement that it's a no-go area for me. They can make as much mess as they like and I won't touch it. They can tidy it up if and when they like, it's their responsibility. I might try and coax them into letting me 'help' them tidy later on.

I could do the gardens but it's piddling down.

I want a job, I'm getting cabin fever stuck in the house like this. I love being a mum, but I hate, hate, hate this stay-at-home stuff. I need a job where they'll let me work during school hours, probably let me have half terms and holidays off too - do they exist?

Oh I'm much too bored to write anything remotely interesting. I'll come back when I've got something to say!

Comments

Stupidy or Sensibility?

2006-05-18T22:35:49+02:00

I don't know!

I never believed in fate, refused in fact. In the last 12 months so many, many things have happened that seem to bring me to one point that I can't sort of pretend it anymore.

Everywhere I go people are talking about my life. Well, to be fair, they're not - but the things they say mean something. I've been up to the kids' rooms and the radio was talking to ME. Not anyone - noooo, was me.

The basics of this fate thing is that I have to do something about it all. The problem then is what if I don't? How the hell does fate deal with defiance? If I won't do what fate tells me to do, and he won't do it, then it's not going to happen is it? Unless we progress to reincarnation.

Told you I would ramble, rofl.

Anyway, today stuff.

I actually don't want to talk about today. In a nutshell, Child 1 has appointment - serioulsy needed one (squeeze spelling, bottle of wine down). He turns up before I am home from dropping kids off.

Knew it was trouble before I got there, the look on his face. Can I describe it? Smug, self-content, clever, aggressive.

I found my drive littered with a zillion bags and boxes. We'd agreed to leave at 9am. It was 9:02am and would take 15 - 20 mins to shift it all. I made the stupid mistake of telling him how long it takes me to do school drop-offs. Had to be there at 9:30.

I dared complain that we had now about 10 mins to travel 30 mins and he went ape. I so don't want to talk about this, but hell, what's it for?

I had to hold the door shut, he was pulling on the handle and pushing door. I managed - just - to lock it. Poor eldest son saw all of this. Didn't get to the appointment and have rearranged for Monday. Tells me they know how desperate things are, this is the nhs!!!

Anyway, Mr Autism hid in his room, hid in the attic and hid everywhere.

I don't want to do this now. Sorry xxx

Comments

I'm A Mum, Get Me Out Of Here!

2006-05-17T11:26:10+02:00

I didn't get to post yesterday, I don't think that's a crime in blogland is it? I'm a virgin at this, just rambling and rambling away.

I had a 'lone-parent' interview at the job center yesterday. It was supposed to be last Thursday, but I had to rearrange and point out to them that the time they gave me clashed with the collecting from school time. Maybe I think too much of people, but I'd have presumed a 'lone-parent interview' would have been made during school time. The advisor argued it was during school time, but totally missed the point. The point being that just before school ends isn't really during school time. Anyway, my hopes weren't high when he called to rearrange. He asked if I'd ever had one before to which I replied I hadn't. He said that it was just something the government made them do, we had to had to look at my options as a single parent. He then kindly added that I probably didn't really have any.

So, off I trot to the job center to sit with the professional benefit people. You know the ones, they've been on benefits for years, you can tell because they only wear expensive clothes. They usually have a couple of young kids with them dressed as mini-mes and covered in sticky remnants of sweets (breakfast).

The advisor turned out to be a fairly decent and down to earth bloke. Like most people I speak to in benefits, once they realise I have qualifications, want to work and hate claiming they stop talking to me in the patronising tone they usually adopt. The problem then is that they simply begin to complain about how crap the benefit system is and how it really doesn't help people like me. Fills me with such hope it does!

I told him about my plans to return to University and take over where I left off before I left the arsehole and moved a million miles away. "Ah well" He said, "If you have plans I'm going to leave you alone to just get on with it. We don't often meet people with plans." It took a good few minutes to make him understand that I would really like to work in the meantime. He argued stating I'd probably be no better off, to which I argued that I really, really don't care. As long as I'm not worse off. There are only so many times a day a toilet can be cleaned, I can't stand being shut up in the house much longer. I don't want to work for the money, I want to work for the social side of it, for something to get up for in the morning, I want some pride. I want to buy something for the house and know it's truly mine, because I earned the money that paid for it.

Shocked, he agreed to look for a job for me. There were a couple, but on taking the details away the story is the same as it's always been. They're completely unsuitable. I have another interview in a fortnight so he can find me some more jobs I can't do, something to look forward to I suppose.

Well, I managed to watch Lost. I got my bottle of wine, lay stretched out on the sofa and relaxed - wonderful! The problem was that they put Flatliners on afterwards and I've not seen that film in years. Brilliant film, so I stayed up to watch it. Consequently, today I am shattered. I have that horrible muzzy head feeling and my eyes are heavy. I can't be bothered to do anything. I have to force myself awake soon. 2nd son has done his usual and left his swimming kit at home. This is a weekly occurence.

Mind you, he's getting better. Rather than the school calling and asking me to drop it in, he remembered it when he got to the school gates. At this rate it means that by time he's about 42 he'll remember it before he leaves the house in the morning.

Madam is doing well with her arm. In fact, she's doing too well. Little Miss Independent refuses to acknowledge she may not be able to do the things she could do if she didn't have her arm in a cast. She told me she found it hard to get up from the carpet at school because she can't push up on her wrist. I suggested she ask the teacher if she can sit on a chair. It turns out the teacher made that suggestion herself, Madam refused point blank and would rather struggle. She's having trouble cutting up her food, but will not allow anyone to do it for her, preferring to struggle and hurt instead. She fell over yesterday at school, managing to cut her arm just above the plaster. This is because she has refused to sit nicely and read books during playtime, nooo, she wants to run around and carry on as normal.

It all made me wonder about if it had been one of the boys. I can say in certainty that they would be demanding to be nursed. They'd insist they couldn't do PE, have to stay in at break, need food cutting up, couldn't possibly help themselves to a drink and so on.

Kids, they're adults in training.

Comments

Where's The Off Button?

2006-05-15T21:37:11+02:00

Our bedtime routine is perfect and worked perfectly well. Until the clocks went forward.

Now the kids just don't turn off! They giggle and play together, when all during the day they have hated the mere sight of each other.

This is my 'me' time. My quiet time when I tidy up, get everything ready for the mad rush in the morning and then relax. I might want to turn down the lights, light some incense sticks, read - whatever takes my fancy. Instead, the lights are blazing, I'm up and down the stairs like an eejit and the room smells of tobacco instead of vanilla or rose or something pretty!

Mr Autistic is currently sitting on the sofa, cushions practically on the floor. He is on there somewhere, amid the paper and books that he surrounds himself with. He's nowhere near ready to settle down yet. But I am!

I want to open the telly pages and discover that there is actually a film on that I really, really want to watch! I want all the kids in their own beds, asleep while I make a nice cuppa and maybe a bacon sandwich. I want to take them to bed, have the weeny little lights on, pop the telly on and watch the film until I sleep.

I think that's happened once in the last 6 months.

It is going to happen tomorrow night. Tomorrow night is Lost night! I shall have my bottle of wine and I might treat myself to some chocolate. The kids WILL be in bed and asleep on pain of death. I WILL watch and understand Lost. I WILL have the lights low, I WILL sit down for more than ten minutes and I WILL relax. I promise.

Comments

So Why Do I Do It?

2006-05-15T14:01:26+02:00

Dating sites. Hmmmm.

I first joined one shortly after I'd told the ex to take a hike. It was a way of me regaining confidence in a safe space and a way of showing him that I didn't care how long he spent refusing to move out - I was not his wife any longer.

Maybe it's just me, but I'm finding them a total farce. Actually, the sites themselves are OK, the principle is good, they're a lot of fun. It's the men that use them that are the problem.

I have joined a few of them, quite a few. The problem is that I'm not so desperate to forge a relationship that I'll just take anyone, but I suppose that the curiosity in me keeps my options open - you never know Mel Gibson might be browsing the web one day! Generally though, I join, fill in the profile and only return to delete messages or stare open mouthed in horror at the cheek of some men.

I'm 31 years old. I often get messages from much older men. I have no problem with older men at all, in fact I prefer them. But let's not beat around the bush, there are older men and there are older men. 45 is a great age, if they're fit and healthy, attractive and young at heart. 45 is not good if they look like my dad - which too many do. On the other side of the coin I get a lot of messages from boys. 18 years olds, 22 year olds and so on. Flattered? Not at all. For a start, what excuse does a single lad of that age have to be on a dating site? And what on earth can they offer me and my brood of children? Ahhh - I think we know what they're offering. And therein lies the problem.

Regardless of age, I have discovered that there are two types of men who use dating sites.

Type 1 is after a quick shag. His first message will be very much to the point, "HI U U LK GUD WUD U LK 2 CHAT". By time I've deciphered that there is a compliment and the offer that I may be lucky enough to get shagged by the Burberry - wearing tosser grinning inanely at me from the computer, he's more than likely found someone his own age who isn't so fussy and has an understanding of words without vowels. Type 1 is very easily offended and very persistent. If you don't reply, it means you didn't get his message and so he will either message you again with the exact same message - or even better - if there is a personal chat option he'll go for that.

Now, the chat option is a nightmare. Men just do not understand it. You close the box or decline the chat, because you don't want to chat. Stupidly, I once thought that if the chat was declined or the window closed it sort of said enough. Nah - these men wear Burberry, it's not that simple. Evidently, there is a problem with the website, because it's impossible that this woman would not want to speak to them you see. By the fifth time declining the chat, it's just not funny anymore. They still don't get it - I MUST want to speak to them.

Whether there is a chat option or not, you can be sure that Type 1 man will get very frustrated and very cross with you. The options are, send a nice message saying "Thanks but no thanks", send an arsey message saying, "Carry on and I'll report you.", or simply ignore them. All avenues lead to the same outcome (I tend to save my fingers and ignore them knowing this). A message will turn up, showing you how cross and upset they are with you. This though is a good sign, it means they finally got the message, for the more ufortunate Type 1 man, this can take some weeks.

Examples of the messages that are inevitably there just in case you're playing hard to get and spur you into action are as follows:

"Sed nuffin bout bein up yerself in yer profile did it"

"be lik dat den"

And my all time favourite, "NICE. MUST B SUMMAT IN DE WATER"

My all time favourite was from a man, who was in a Burberry cap and was one of the many who seem to miss that I specifically say in all my profiles that I abhor text speak. This guy just wasn't going to get it at all and after 3 months or so, I had to tell him. From the very start, I cringed when I saw a message with his name there. His username is spelled wrong, the poor love seems to have accidently hit the Caps Lock and not been able to find it to turn it off. Over two websites I probably had 12 messages from this bloke, each one saying the exact same thing. I never worked out whether he just doesn't know how to mis-spell anything else or whether he genuinely thought he was such a catch that I wasn't ignoring him. Anyway, I sent a message back saying, "I'm sorry, I haven't answered any of your many emails from this site or the other. I'm not interested - good luck in your search."

Type 2 man is much harder to spot and much more dangerous. He is looking for a wife. Now, as a mother and a grown-up, and having not been the one to screw up my marriage, I sort of tick all the boxes for wife material. He comes across as genuine, he comes across as friendly ("I'm not just after sex - honest!"). These men are not looking for love, they are looking for the wife and hoping that love will happen. They are much more interested in you falling in love with them than they are in falling in love with you. They flatter, they play the game, and if you ever meet them, by the second date they've proposed - apologising for falling in love with you so quickly.

I often point out that it's not a good idea to declare undying love or propose marriage until they've seen me lose my temper, or dealt with me when I have PMT, or had to sit embarrassed when I'm drunk - at the very least! The best ones are the dads who think I'll make a wonderful step-mother to their kids, while they do everything in their power to avoid mine. Those without kids start to get lovely fluffy-vision about being daddy to my kids, forgetting that they have a dad. I'm looking for a man for me, not for my kids!

Type 2 man is very clever and very devious. He has a copy/paste message that he sends to everyone who doesn't look dog-rough. You can tell the copy and paste jobs, they are about 3 pages long, no spelling mistakes or typos and the language is very well thought out. If you hold on long enough, you can be sure he'll slip up and send it you again, at which point it's only fair to reply and tell him you enjoyed it first time, to receive it twice is too generous! Type 2 man gets a bit carried away with the future at times. Rather than tell you about himself, he tells you about his kids, his cousins and his mother's next-door neighbour, not forgetting to mention how much they're all going to love you. He will begin to plan summer holidays, the concept of "Shall we see how it goes?" has momentarily left planet earth. The signs are always there with Type 2 man, you just have to watch for them.

Type 1 and Type 2 men though both share something common. They believe that a single mother using an internet dating site is desperate. They treat you like the fool, they can't understand why you would turn them down when they're offering to take you on. It doesn't occur to them that many of us would rather sleep alone than with the wrong man, nor does it occur that we're not exactly looking for it, just seeing if it's out there. Like many single women on the net, I'm neither lonely nor frustrated. I don't pine to have a man in my life, I'm more than happy on my own. Finding love is simply a natural need - but not an overpowering one.

Comments

That's Pretty

2006-05-14T13:16:11+02:00

There, I've gone all pink and girlie. The design will probably get on my nerves within a day or two.

So, time to ramble is it? Ok, only if I have to!

Right. Where am I at? My daughter broke her arm on Thursday evening. Usually there are people around who could help out with the boys or get me to and from hospital. I don't drive and so have to rely on friends and family. But, such is life, on this particular evening, nobody was around. I had realised that I could call an ambulance, but getting back from the hospital would be a problem. This is also a very rare occassion where I have literally no money, the last pennies have been spent in the corner shop this morning. A taxi was out of the question. Children it seems will only break bones at the most inconvenient of times. My son broke his nose at Butlins a few years back. I had to leave almost a whole pint to get him to hospital!

I called the ex, as you do. I didn't think any harm could come from letting him know his daughter appeared to have broken her wrist and his children needed his help right now. I'll never learn! Seems that my asking for his help with his children was ridiculous, out of the question and beyond reason. It's an hour's drive you know! Thoroughly thoughtless and selfish I am. So, I get an ambulance after securing a lift with a friend of my eldest son's mother (who incidently I've never met or spoken to before) to get home. We arrive at A&E, and note the huge LCD screen telling us to expect to wait 2 hours. Fantastic - it was already 7 O'Clock. Oh I'm sooo naive, that 2 hours is after you've waited an hour to see the nurse, and after the half hour it takes to book in. The nurse was invaluable. She checked that the booking in details were correct and allowed us to sit down in the waiting area. 3 years of training that took!

We finally get called to the doctor, of the 5 minutes spent with him, 1 minute was looking at my daughter's wrist, the other 4 were asking him to repeat what he said slowly and clearly. We were sent for an X-ray so had a lovely detour around the hospital to wait outside the X-ray department. Then we had to find our way back to A&E (much fun with 3 tired and hungry children), hand the X-ray into reception and be allowed to park our bums in the waiting room again.

Eventually, we were called again and told there was a break, she needed it plastered. We should return to the waiting room again and ummm, wait. We did wait, we were getting good at it now. So, when the plaster went on, the best news of all came. They were only putting a temporary plaster on, we had to be back in the morning for the proper job to be done. Brilliant. How on earth was I going to get back there with no money and nobody I could call up at this time of night? It was now 11 O'Clock, we were due back at 10 in the morning.

I called my darling ex. He seemed pretty shocked and sheepish to hear that I did actually need to get her to hospital and it wasn't a ploy to spend some time with him. I told him there were no questions, no argument, he was coming over in the morning to get her to hospital.

So he did. The problem was that as the boys would be at school when he arrived, they were not happy that they wouldn't be seeing him. I sort of presumed that 12 months after splitting up he may be ready to be a dad and not an ex, and perhaps be there for his kids when they needed him, because he was needed. Like I said, I'm very naive!

The long and short of it is that we agreed he could stay over Friday night (I have a spare bed in an attic I never go into and never clean - it's very cold in there and perfect for unwanted guests. In fact, he's the only guest I've ever put in there). He was due to spend Saturday with them and to save his travelling, it made sense. Friday night there was a small row, nothing major. Just him sniffing round about my love life - of course he doesn't care about it and doesn't want to know, but he spent 3 hours questioning it before I made something up and it annoyed him. He doesn't know I made it up but it keeps him happy, he thinks he knows what's going on and that makes him clever because I don't know what he's up to. Bless, little things eh?

So, Saturday went fairly ok. Because he's an idiot I cannot allow him to take the children out on his own. There are many reasons, the main ones being that when he has them he likes to let them knock around with cocaine users and if that doesn't happen he leaves a 7 year old girl unattended in his car while he nips to the shop, leaves a 10 year old autistic child alone by the side of the road while he nips to his car and lets a 9 year old boy take a trolley back across a busy supermarket carpark (he thinks that last one is ok, because he was watching. He was a good way from my son, but he was watching...) Although I don't like having him around me or in my home - he was abusive and violent - it's the only thing left for him to have proper access to the kids. And I always live by the adage, 'give them enough rope and they'll hang themselves'. By the time the ex left yesterday he was very much hung.

He had been complaining that he didn't get any responsibility or time with the kids without me being in the way, fair enough. He had been talking about how in the future he would like to have them for weekends when he has somewhere to live, but admits he's fallen out of the habit of looking after kids. So, having been to the shops, saying I would be doing tea when I returned, I had one child with me. I discussed with child that it might be nice if I went out of the way and left dad to cook tea, so he wouldn't be just a visitor, he'd be doing dad things and they could eat dad's tea. So, when I returned I put it to him.

OOPS!

I'm lazy. I'm taking the pee. He's not doing what I tell him to. We're not married anymore you know. Why should he cook tea for the kids, he's come to see them, not cook. I'm ugly. I'm a slag. He hates me. He doesn't want to come to my poxy house. He wishes he'd never met me. Hey kids - see what your mother has started now. Hey kids - your mother is a bitch. He hasn't threatened me - yet. He doesn't want to hit me, he doesn't know where my dirty little body has been. He'd rather be fat as he is than skinny like me. I use him, I only asked him up to cook tea so I could slope off and ignore my children. And of course, my daughter broke her wrist because I'm a crap mum and it wouldn't have happened if he'd have had her. It's not a threat, but he's going to outlive me and that's a promise. (?)

On and on and on he went. He was in my face, he spat in my face, he towered over me trying to frighten me as he used to. He asked me to hit him, so that he could then have the excuse to knock seven bells of crap out of me. He pushed me, he would walk away and then come back twice as angry. I asked him to leave again and again and he refused. I didn't raise my voice, I just carried on with cooking the tea.

Evidently, he seemed to think he had won. The kids were screaming and crying, he was shouting, name calling and becoming very aggressive. He stated he was going nowhere because once again, he wasn't doing anything I told him to. He kept his promise to fetch the kids some sweets, at which point I locked every door and hid the keys to stop the kids letting him back in. It did the trick. Peace restored and my house and happy kids back.

And so that's about the long and short of my weekend. Ex did give me something to smile about though. I have a bit of a thing going with Mr X (no, he's not a superhero, I'm just not putting his name in here). I also have a picture of the gorgeous Matthew Fox on my fridge (better known as Jack from Lost). Ex noted how he looked like Mr X...

Kids are at school tomorrow, I haven't yet figured out how my daughter can wear a sling and a school uniform, but I have tested and succeeded in getting her school cardigan over the plaster.

I'm hoping that tomorrow I won't be too lazy to pop into the next town and get to the Leisure Center, they have Yoga classes on a Monday morning and I so want to take up Yoga again! I can say with 90% certainty though that by morning I'll have convinced myself that next week is as good a time as any.

But for now, I have to get the house sorted. I've had a lazy day, Sundays usually are, but I really ought to at least wash-up and get uniforms sorted.

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Comments

Oh - That was easy!

2006-05-13T21:08:29+02:00

It seems I've just created a blog!

Why? I have no idea. I suppose in many ways I fancy being allowed to ramble on and on - as is my way - and this way it's ok when nobody is interested. I don't have to apologise for rambling, because that's what I'm supposed to do. YAY! I can ramble and ramble and you can't do anything about it (except close the page).

I suppose I'd better introduce myself. I'm a 31 year old divorcee with 3 children. I've fairly recently moved to a new area and am busy starting my life again. Sometimes I make good choices in life - mostly I don't. I'm pretty much enjoying doing what I missed out on. I married young, became a mother young and rather than lived, I wived and mothered. I cannot fail to be constantly surprised at how difficult this 'living' stuff actually is.

Like most single people, I'm always on the look-out for my perfect partner. There are loads out there who I could be with, but to date the only ones I've wanted to be with are wrong, wrong and wrong. While my head is banging up the wall with frustration one moment, the next I am laughing at how wonderful experiencing this life stuff is.

So, my life is wading through men looking for one I like - or one who is OK to be with and being a mum. That's it, in a nutshell. Apart from trying to cope with the ex from hell my life is mundane and boring - normal I suppose. But yet I want to ramble about it, it's important to me. To me my life isn't mundane, it's exciting, it's new and wonderful. To everyone else I'm just another single mum doing single mum things.

Now I'd better go off and learn how this thing works, pretty it up a bit and make it look as though I know what I'm doing and that this all very well planned. Then I can come back and write trivial stuff that is life and death to me, and that nobody else cares about.

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Comments