Often when people ask me how I cope being a single parent I say fine. Because, on the whole I do. I feel the frustrations that many parents share and I won’t dream of saying it’s easy, but for me I have never known any different. From before the day my son came into the world I had sadly known that I would be his only parent.

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The conversation starts like this

Them  “So what do you do?”

Me “Erm…I erm…”

And then I add in a long pause and get more and more flustered.

The quick answer to the question is that I am a cleaner.

The longer, make myself feel good reply is that 8 months ago when my last contract ended as a funding officer for a local charity I realised there were no part time jobs here, (well ones with fixed hours that allowed me to organize child care that is) so I had 2 alternatives, go on income support or become self employed.

Anyone I tell me story to say I should be proud; that I am not ‘just’ a cleaner, and I know this is true. To start the business I did the website, designed flyers, set up accounts and thought up the whole concept of the business to make it a bit different from the norm.  But Monday – Wednesday I am a cleaner.

I have been a single parent for 3 years, I did have a good job that made a difference to communities in Northern Ireland, a job that I felt proud to tell people I did, that I could talk about for hours.  Circumstances meant I moved and left that job and after 6 months of being ‘on the dole’ I got the funding officer job, I was again able to do it well, I knew what I was doing, it was again making a difference to a community.  I got a really good result in the job and got the charity a fantastic grant.  All things that other people thought were great and I could explain.

So back to today…

I have always enjoyed cleaning, with a tenancy towards OCD if I have the time and energy at home, and so I decided to go for it in working life and within 10 days of starting and advertising I was fully booked, and it has stayed that way for 8 months.  It is hard work as when I go to work for 7 hours, I am working all the time, no lunch breaks, no chats over tea.  But I do enjoy it and it is very satisfying and it DOES make a difference, I know this from the feedback.  BUT I am a cleaner and I am just never able to just say that as I assume people will judge me for it.  And I know it is also because I am a single parent that I feel judged more, a bit of a cliché I guess, single mum cleaner.

I don’t want to feel like this as it does bring me down and I worry people won’t see further than it.  But why do I care?  What does it matter what I do?

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If you told me 10, 5 or even 2 years ago that my own child would look on me as mainly utterly mortifying I would gasp in horror. No not my little angel who would crawl up on to my lap for cuddles (obviously a long time ago) or the sweet child who would draw me hundreds of pictures covered in kisses for mummy. Alas yes that same child will be 16 years old this year and I am no longer cool. Not that I was up there with all the other cool mothers. You know the ones your children go on about with a wistful ‘I wish you were more like them’ sought of tone. But at least she would walk through town with me.

I have tried to think what has changed. Was there something I did or didn’t do that expelled me from the cool club? I haven’t suddenly grown two heads or lost all my social skills. Nor have I started dressing like hippie or a bag lady. I even have really good days when I manage to brush my hair and apply makeup but this hasn’t redeemed me back into the cool club.

Over Christmas I think I found out why. On New Year’s Eve we had friends over, one friend being in their 50’s. (I would like to point out that this is not my age. I am still just 40…but only just and not for much longer) Said friend was quietly bopping away to the back ground music, the top 40. Teen thought this was funny and brilliant. If I do it – apparently its not.

So it’s not an age thing either so I can only come to one conclusion – Im not cool simply because I am her mum!

I have asked other mums if they went though the same with their teens and all came back with a resounding yes. I also asked if they were ever allowed back into the cool club. I can happily report that for most they were allowed back in and now bask in the lovely glow of being cool but a few did say they are still waiting.

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• There was no dishwasher or washing machine and I had to wash all the dishes every day by hand and help my mum do the laundry. Nowadays I have the luxury of a dishwasher and a washing machine just sitting there waiting to be filled, turned on and does the job for me.
• We didn’t have a car so no matter what the weather was chucking at us I had to walk to and from school and anywhere else I wanted to be. Currently the car sits on the drive for whenever we need it.
• Christmas presents were just one present and the obligatory orange. This Christmas my two both had around 10 presents each. Yes some were small silly things and there was no orange.
• There was no mobile phone, social web sites or any www for that matter, at times even no home phone. Now both my children and I have mobile phones, there is a computer in the house plus a laptop and they still manage to say the words “I’m bored”.
• We went through times of no TV. In this day and age we sometimes live our lives around the T.V.
• New clothes and other things considered a luxury like make up were Christmas or birthday presents with nothing bought in-between. This one is still a bit the same today but there occasion’s new luxuries can be bought throughout the year.

My life now isn’t that of luxury and wealth, far from it but my children haven’t gone through any of the above. Does this really make them any worse or better?

They have grown up expecting all the above as the norm. My situation isn’t unique and there will be many other families ‘raising the bar’ on children’s expectations of life. But with wanting to give my children a better life than I had, am I actually raising children who naturally expect more? If I had the balls and hadn’t become so accustomed to having all the above myself, I would love to see how or if it would change them if they lived a year of my childhood.

My teen daughter does pop in and read my posts from time to time. Sometimes I don’t know she has but I have a feeling I will know when or rather I will hear the scream when she reads this one.

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Benefits. Some single parents are entitled to them and yes some of us do claim them. They can be a god send to get you through the rough times and contrary to popular belief most of us don’t actually like being on benefits.

Caffeine in copies amounts to get you through the day.

Diplomatic. Christmas, birthdays and other important dates call for your best diplomatic skills to make sure everyone is happy (including you)

Economical. You learn fast how to be economical with your money, heating, food, electric, water…..basically the lot.

Family. You’re still a family when you’re a single parent; it’s just a bit smaller. The rest of your family is also very important. They may be called on for advice, emergencies and other ‘oh drat, what do I do now’ moments.

Google. This one can cover a lot of things. It can be a life line in the middle of the night when you’re worried about children’s symptoms. Or maybe a quick look up on how to cook a certain vegetable. Or even just too look up other like minded people.

Happiness. Find it every day as life really is too short to hold a grudge and spend time being unhappy.

Insecure. Those moments when you worry you’re not being a good enough parent. When you wonder if you’re doing any of it right.

Judged.  Sadly you may come across people who judge you for what you are, a single parent. Keep in mind its their issue and not yours.

Keep calm and carry on. Has been a favourite motto of mine for awhile because sometimes all I can do is keep calm and just carry on.

Lonely. There can be times when you wish they would just be quiet for 5 minutes. But then they go to the other parent or go up to bed and you realise how silent it is and how lonely it can be.

Money. Just when you think you have it all covered something will happen that causes a blow to the bank balance. Cars break down or fail MOT’s. Things get worn out or just give up completely. (No not you, I meant washing machines etc) It may be completely unrealistic to put money aside each month so I am not going to suggest that.

Normal. As a single parent we haven’t suddenly sprouted another head or suddenly turned green and grown scales, we are still normal people just like everyone else.

Overcome. There are positives to be a single parent. For me, it made me overcome being a nervous driver. It also made me overcome being shy, granted I am not the loudest in a room but I am not as shy anymore.

Plumber. And probably electricians. I can turn my hand to most things but not plumbing or electrics. I can’t afford call out fee’s either. I have instead a couple of friends who other halves are plumbers or electricians. Hopefully I never have to call on them but one never knows.

Quality. Its not the amount of parenting you do, it’s the quality of parenting. Yes I know we are all tired, crabby and just want the mute button sometimes, but always be there for them and listen. It may just be the hundredth time you have heard about superheroes but it’s important to them.

Realistic. Unless you wear your knickers over your tights and have superpowers hiding under your cape, be realistic on what you can achieve. The hovering will still be there tomorrow and fish finger sandwiches never hurt anyone so stop trying to be perfect and just be the best you realistically can be.

Screwdrivers. When I was married I didn’t own a screw driver. They were kept in the garage for man things. Now I have a toll box full of them. They do more than you can imagine and everyone should have them to hand in the home. They can wedge doors open, retrieve things from under the sofa and they are particular good for stabbing holes in the lawn to help with drainage. The last one is very therapeutic too.

Tantrums. Kids have them when they are small; ex’s have them when they are older. React in the same way – just ignore them.

Unprepared. I always seem unprepared for things and no I wasn’t a Brownie. I was unprepared how quick the children grow. I know everyone said that time flies etc but you always think your own children won’t grow up as quick. They do. Cherish every moment, even the shitty ones as it will soon rush by.

Vacant. From the vacant look I daily get from the teenager to the vivid imagination of the tween. The vacations you miss out on when money is tight to the vindictive verbal vent you get from some smug idiot who only view you as a single parent and not a human being.

Wellbeing. Yours. When you spend all day singularly caring for your children your own wellbeing may take a back seat.  Your wellbeing is, if not more, important. Take time out for yourself, stop beating yourself up and look after yourself too.

Xmas. Hate the word Xmas instead of Christmas but come on it’s an x.

Yourself. Be yourself and don’t let anyone tell you you’re doing it wrong. If it works for you then it’s the right way.

Z- Err ok I give up on Z

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Parenting Directory now has voting enabled so if you think a site listed on there is really useful you can vote for it or add a comment.

But I need your input on what sites you think are helpful to parents. You can fill in as many or as few as you want below so that they can be added to Parenting Directory.

For example if you always go to a certain site for maths homework, let me know.

cforms contact form by delicious:days

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But what if there was no Christmas, what if the festive season and all the other yearly events like Easter where never invented? Imagine 365 days of nothing to plan for or celebrate, followed by another 365 days of the same. If there were no tv adverts or media campaigns telling us to buy and celebrate Christmas or Valentines would we actually write cards, give presents and get everyone together to celebrate. At Christmas we dutifully send cards to people we haven’t spoken to or seen all year but we must wish them a ‘Merry Christmas’.

If Christmas wasn’t invented these friendships might dwindle even faster. If we didn’t plan Christmas family meals would we actually sit down on that grand a scale and all spend time together? If we didn’t have Christmas we wouldn’t see the look on children’s faces as they open presents. We wouldn’t all pull together for one day of the year.

It’s very easy to disregard what I just said and insist that we would all do all of these things without Christmas etc but left to our devices would we actually?

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Being in the crafty mood I then decided to make a twig tree to go in the hallway for Christmas. It’s normally just the lounge that gets christmasfied so this is a bit of a first. I then decided to evolve it into a Christmas wish tree.

I managed to find several small branches on a walk and spayed them silver (Wilkios do gold and silver spray cans at £2 each). I left them as big as I could so that I could tweak and trim once in place.

I then got all glued up and covered them in glitter. Luckily I did this in the garage as now the garage floor and my boots are covered in glitter.

I found a glass square vase and put the branches in and then filled the vase with red pot-pourri to keep the branches still.

I asked the kids to name Christmas wishes and made them into gift tags. I think my kids may be pushing the wish boundaries a tad as one wants to be a superhero and the other wants a horse.

I then added some silver sleigh bells to keep in the red and silver theme and they we have a Christmas Wish Tree.

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I only have one tradition that I have inherited from my mum and that’s making those orange and clove things. You know where you sit all evening pushing cloves into an orange and then have sore fingers for a week. Each year my daughter and I endure the challenge and then watch it go mouldy but least it’s a tradition.

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Off to the local stores I went. For me there has to be two requirements for a Christmas tree. It has to be taller than me and as I am 5 Foot and a fag paper that isn’t that too hard a job, the second it has to be bushy. I blame my mother for my fussiness as the Christmas tree of my childhood was one of those 3 foot tinsel things that you could still see through after throwing a tonne of garish tinsel and baubles at. Several shops on I found the perfect tree. Its 6 foot splendour of full bushy branches was going to be mine. Fast forward a few weeks of saving and last week I went back to purchase the tree. I marched in heading straight for the trees. I searched high and low in their ‘Winter Wonderland’ but couldn’t find my tree. I asked a sales lady where the £50 tree was I saw a few weeks earlier, she pointed to a separate tree on its own. Yes that’s the one, where is it I asked her, I meant where the box was so I could buy it and presumed the sales lady was equipped with crystal ball. Its there she repeated and pointed again. I looked at her a bit quizzing. Was she daft or was it me. I mimed out a box shape and again she pointed at the tree on its own. She finally led me to the tree and pointed behind the tree to the boxes stacked up. You see it was so bushy and tall (tick, tick) that I couldn’t see the boxes. You would think alarm bells at its height and girth would flash now but no they didn’t. I would have liked to have said that I bought the tree and all was well. But it appears that trees are heavy then you give them credit.

The box was too heavy to carry so I used a trolley, one of those see-saw things that the kids use to love to bounce on. Putting the tree on the trolley pushed the trolley into the tinsel display sending tinsel flying. Aware that I was being watched by the queue at the till I realised I had to make the heave from floor to trolley count. With as much energy as I could muster I picked the box up and flung it on the trolley. Trolley and tree shot down the aisle taking out the decoration display. From there to the till and then to my car I managed to knock over another two displays till finally arriving safely home with my prized tree.

Of course the most important thing on my kid’s minds was where the tree would go. We plan this out every year and the previous descendent always fitted nicely in the corner. Not this year. It all the kafuffle of knocking displays over I didn’t notice that the tree wasn’t actually 6 foot tall but 7 foot 6 inches. (Really must start wearing my glasses more) and of course as a tree gets taller it gets wider. The whole of the lounge, which is a lounge/dinner/office has been moved around to accommodate the 44 inch diameter of the new tree.

Before you ask, no the tree isn’t up yet but I am just trying to be prepared.

So I have learnt that asking the ex to do something still takes 2 years to complete the task, that me and trolleys don’t mix and for someone who has worked with measurements all her life ( curtain maker then in the building trade) I am crap at it. Photos of decorated beautiful HUGE tree will no doubt follow.

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I can’t remember if I had any other reasons and if I did they couldn’t have been that important for me to have now forgotten them, but my main reason was I wanted some normality and consistency for the children. It was bad enough that they were going through a divorce and at the time my daughter was worried I would have a different surname to her. When your only 4 these things are very important.

Fast forward to today and I am still using the same surname. I don’t see any reason to change it now but it’s made me wonder was it odd that I kept the surname? Do most women revert back to maiden names on divorce when children are involved?

I did ask the children if it was odd and they looked at me oddly and said no as if it were perfectly normal.

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I have been slightly cautious as I used to love sewing but that turned into profession.  20 years of sewing curtains, wedding dresses and prom dresses and now I don’t even posses a needle and thread. I don’t want my art to go the same way. It’s also very nerving putting my art on display for public criticism; I don’t know what people will say. It won’t appeal to everyone but I hope it appeals to enough people.

Ideally the site would be a lot fuller but I have requests to put it live so that orders can be placed….So amongst the stray bits of glitter, glue, paper cuttings and other craft paraphernalia I give you karoove. (Runs quickly and hides in the corner peeking out from behind my eyes.)

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They would also love to hear what your thoughts are on them so please get commenting below too. Imagine they are all websites, which you would click on, which one you wouldn’t. Let me know as much or as little info as you want.

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What’s it like living with M.E*? When I was first diagnosed I adjusted my life to get rid of stress and for the past 4 years it’s been fine. I would get tired a bit quicker than I use to, I would start to hurt a bit here and ache a bit there but I put it down to getting older. I didn’t realise it was warning signs.

But now it’s a bit different. I ‘crashed and burned’ several weeks ago. Imagine you have flu, you know that bit when everything hurts to the point that brushing your hair hurts. It’s like that, now on top of that add in some back, neck and shoulder pain, ( and any other joint that randomly wants to join in) the pain is excruciating and there constantly and that’s after painkillers.  Now add in some brain fog, dizziness and a general feeling of being ‘wobbly’. Oh and of course you’re tired. Tired as in you have just run a marathon whilst carrying a ton weight.

This is what it is like for me but the awful thing is that a lot of people have it a lot worse than me. Some people will have it a lot worse for many years; some may never have periods of remission. I am hoping I can get mine back under control but that takes time and patients.

I have to pace myself. I think of myself as if i was a mobile phone battery. If I let my ‘battery’ run out, like i did this year, it takes awhile for the battery to be recharged. Whilst it’s charging it has limited resources and doing too much empties the battery out. At the moment I think my battery is running on just under a ¼ charged so I have a little way to go yet. This is where the frustration kicks in. I want a full battery now. I want to be able to do the things I use to be able to do, I don’t want to do marathons just have a life where i am not tired. I want the doctor to give me some sort of medicine to make it all go away but he can’t as there is no cure.

At the moment recovery is going well. My doctor can’t refer me on to a specialist as ours just retired and isn’t being replaced but my doctor is trying his best. It could all be a lot worse and there are many people in lot worse situations.

*ME (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis), CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome)

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As a new mums we very proudly get ‘little cute child’ to say “fank you” and “pees can I have” for all and sundry to show how good a parent we are that we have taught our child manners. We sit back on our laurels and tick off another task won. BUT we stop there. As if the jobs done.

I have a noticed that people I meet who are older than me, have all the manners that were drummed into them as they grew up.  There are from the older generation where manners where thought more of. As I meet people of my own age it is a little bit hit and misses but mainly a hit. We are the children of the older manner conscious generation. But the younger generation (you don’t know how old I feel saying those words) are more miss with hardly a touch of manners. People with young children themselves are going through the “pees and fanks” with their young children but in life they aren’t using manners themselves. Children learn by what they are brought up with.

The older I get the more I realise how much I appreciate manners. The older I get the more I realise I have less if any patience with anyone who hasn’t even grasped the first steps, the please and thanks you. The older I get the more I realise manners are become something for toddlers to use whilst they are young and something for old people to whinge on about.

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“Who’s glass is this on the side?” me, said with a big sigh.

“Mine I had a drink earlier” one of my children, you can pick which one.

“The dishwasher is only half full, couldn’t you have put it in there instead?” me.

Tuesday morning

“Whose bowl is this on the side and who left their glass on the dining table?” me, slightly fed up.

“Oh sorry forgot” one of them answers and puts both the glass and the plate on the kitchen side.

“Right guys can we all start using a bit of consideration, when you finish with something put it in the dishwasher. You don’t have to put it on the side if the dishwasher is empty” me, getting slightly frazzled.

Wednesday morning

“Whose glass is this on the side? What did I say yesterday about putting things in the dishwasher?” early morning so I am not the chirpiest of people.

“Its mine, I left it on the side as I was going to have a drink later”

“Later? How much later? 5 minutes or 5 hours? “ me just before I hit my head against a wall.

Thursday all day

Kids at their dads, no glasses, plates or bowls on the side.

Friday teatime

“Whoever left their plate on the coffee table please put it in the dishwasher “

Imagine shuffling sound as one of them picks up the plate and puts it’s in the dishwasher mumbling something about they were just about to do it before I asked.

Saturday all day

“Right there is two glasses in the lounge, one plate on the table, I don’t care who’s it is but someone put it in the dishwasher and both of you load the dishwasher together please. “Me, through clenched teeth trying not to scream. “Without killing each other for once please”

“It’s not my stuff, I didn’t leave it there” they both answer!

Sunday all day

They are at their Dads and the house is quiet and tidy. Proof I am not going mad and its not me leaving the glasses, plates and bowls on the side.

Monday morning

Start at the top and repeat.

If any one can tell me when this repetitive cycle actually stops do let me know.

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1-It’s very annoying when the she borrows something of mine and it looks ten times better on her.

2-They change their minds a lot, quickly and without telling anyone. Mine loves fennel. I personally can’t stand it. Dutifully as a mother I made space in my veg patch and lovingly grew some fennel for her. On proudly showed her what I have grown for her, her response is in a very matter of fact tone, she doesn’t like fennel now.

3-Just when you think you have this parenting thing under control, they do something that completely throws it all out again

4-The older they get the more they say “it’s not my fault” like it’s the get out clause for everything.

5-Asking a teenager to go across the road to get milk in drizzle without getting changed or applying makeup first is like asking a for sunshine in summer.

6-I have learnt that asking her to make me a cup coffee is the biggest gauge on her mood. If the coffee is strong she is a tad pissed off or tired. If it’s milky then she is happy. If she offers to make me a drink it’s my queue to be worried and brace myself, oh and hide my purse.

7-One bathroom in a house with a teenage girl just doesn’t work.

8-If I can’t find anything I now try her room first.

9-Life with a teenager is dramatic. The world is close to ending on a daily bases.

10-Every moment really is precious as 15 years has gone by in a flash.

11-No matter how cute they are, how dinky their little feet are or how snugly they are when they curl up next to you on the sofa; one day they are gangly, leggy things taking over the whole sofa.

12-Don’t wish away their childhood, don’t rush to their next milestone instead enjoy the now. They have the rest of their lives to be grownups.

13-Those cute baby feet grow into smelly expensive feet.

14-Cherish every sticky fingered hug and every “ove you mummy” moment as the hugs get rarer and the “I love you” are normally followed by a “can I have?”

15-There are brief and rare moments that they astonish you, they do something thoughtful or say something wise beyond their years filling you with pride and warm fuzzy feelings.

And whilst sitting thinking of 15 things about them they wind up and annoy their brother and world war 3 is looming yet agian.

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One week later they had no plans of letting me go anywhere. My massive bump was getting distressed and I wasn’t getting any better. Fast forward a few hours, several doctors and midwives and some incoherent swearing from me and Hollie was under a sun lamp getting her first tan.  As she was getting cooed over by dad and nurses over on the other side of the room I was being treated to electric cold blasting fans to cool me down and impressive array of more doctors and nurses stitching and sorting. (We won’t dwell on that bit)

Needles to say I don’t really remember much of the following 24 hours apart from one thing.  There was a lady whose sole job was to give new mums a cup of tea and a quick NHS make over. This woman was like a god to me. She brushed my hair, gave me a wash and helped me brush my teeth. She then helped me drink a cup of tea. I have never been a tea fan, the mere smell makes my top lip curl and if i drink it by mistake i can do an impressive impersonation of a cat with fur balls. But this cup of tea was the best drink i think i ever had tasted.

So to my dear teenager, who has now turned 15, I wish you a very happy birthday.

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• It’s a myth that having every expensive potion makes you beautiful – It just makes you poorer and the manufacturers richer. If you can afford expensive products then that’s fine but half the trick of the products are how they make you feel. The smells and textures smell and look expensive. If the cheaper products do the trick for you then you’re not actually missing out.

• Its a myth that beauty is only skin deep – You could have the most flawless skin with eyes to melt the most harden but have a mouth like a sewer and plotting your next murder then you won’t be seen as a really beauty but a nut job.

• It’s a myth that you don’t need a beauty routine or it will take all morning – the important bit is to have a routine that suits your skin type and situation.

• Its myth that your diet doesn’t matter – You get out what you put in, how good or bad your diet is reflects directly in your skin.

• Its a myth that the more make up you put on the more beautiful you look –  Make up doesn’t look better the more you put on, quite the opposite – make up should enhance the good bits and detract from the bad bits. Trowling it on with a brickies trowl and you’re not only looking fake and plastic but also not doing an awful lot of good to your skin.

• It’s a myth that you can look like the models in the magazine – Striving to look like a perfect model isn’t beauty. Be realistic and work with what suits you. Be you.

• One thing that isn’t a myth – The real key to real beauty is accepting oneself.

Of course I was probably told all the above by my mother when I was a teenager but being a typical teenager I didn’t think my mother knew what she was talking about. As a devoted mother to a teenage daughter who equally thinks I don’t know what I am talking about half the time,  I will carry on the legacy and tell the above to her.  She of course will not listen but will realise in about 30 years time that the glamorous granny in the corner might actually have known a thing or two.

Do you have a few beauty myths you want to expose or a rant about beauty boiling up inside? Join in with Transatlantic Blondes Feminist Friday

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Over at Only Dads blog, Bob has been talking with some other single parents about the possibility of using a #hashtag. It would mean that single parents can find each other easier for support, a quick natter and share information. It would also mean that organisations like Gingerbread can join in and find lone single parents easier too.

The suggestions so far are #SPS #singleparentsupport #spsupport…

Like Bob I think this is a brilliant idea hence I am supporting the idea and asking you to pop along to Bobs post Single Parent Support and Twitter and share your thoughts and ideas.

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Now that I work from home I have wondered if I should still expect them to help around the house. I am sure the same question has floated through the children’s heads too. They probably think my day consists of about 5 minutes of work and the rest of the time I am having a party. I can’t deny I do take full advantage of the delights of shopping in the middle of the day and I can confirm I have gone outside to put the washing out and ‘forgot’ to go back inside to work when the sun was shining. But I do work long hours, the children don’t notice the days when I am at my desk at 7 and don’t crawl up the stairs to bed till the wee small hours.

My argument for them not helping around the house is rather short and limited. They are children; they should be enjoying what precious childhood they have.

Schoolwork is also important and they need to spend quality time doing their homework.

My argument for them helping around the house is that they make more than their fair share of mess so need to teach them they have to pick it up too.

Future friends, husbands, wives etc will thank me for installing some basic housetraining into my children.

It’s all part of the nature of being a parent. You teach them how to walk, then how to run, you teach them to share and play nicely. It’s only natural to go and teach them things from how to keep things tidy to the basics of a washing machine.

Things do differ from home to home with different situations and children’s ages, but do you think children should help around the home?

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I hoped for long summer days in the garden that resulted in impromptu bbq’s that lasted till the stars were out. It has rained and the days it didn’t rain it was either too windy or the kids had made use of the only sunny day and ran off into the sunset with their friends.

I hoped for leisurely walks to the beach, sand between our toes and sun on our faces. As above.

I hoped for getting in the car with the kids, a picnic and a sense of adventure. As above with also a hint of emmet thrown in. They block up all the roads around where I live. Traffic here in the summer is slower than a snail’s pace. Try navigating everywhere by the lesser known country lanes ends in disaster when you meet a lost emmets who has strayed on to the county lane and doesn’t want to move over to let you pass as it may scratch their car.  Can I just point out that these country lanes are indeed roads that can traffic and not a glorified garden path as one emmet declared through the car window.

I hoped for finally sorting out my wardrobe into a tidy and leaner space on the only wet day of the summer holidays. There was too many wet days and keeps getting put off till tomorrow. Tomorrow never came and now the holidays are nearly over.

I hoped I would get all the uniform buying out the way in the first few weeks of the holidays. At the beginning of the summer holidays the kids declared they only needed school shirts. School shirts were bought and uniform buying was ticked off the list. As the weeks went by the real uniform list came to light. Missing school jumpers have never been found, football boots actually don’t fit anymore…it goes on and on. So now in the last week of school holidays I have a long list of uniform to buy and my purse contents exhausted.

Next year I will organise the summer holidays a lot better or did I actually say that last year.

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It can be a couple of lines, pages or even just comments of support all are welcome. Pop along to the site and you can find ways of submitting your email etc.

It’s not just going to stop there though. Its all going to get set to David Cameron.

Jo says “I want to show him that actually the majority of us are the wonderful hard working ones, so do not blame all the problems of society on us. I want him to see the real faces and lives of single parents, that we are not the bottom society, and we should not be talked about or treated that way.”

For this to get to all you lovely single parents out there please spread the word. Even if you dont want to take part please pass it on to someone who may want to.

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In my house, if I cook the same meal twice in one month it’s met with “oh, this again”. If I get all brave and try something new and exciting it gets poked and prodded like it’s landed from mars. No matter if I do my shop daily, weekly or monthly, at some point I have to think up something appealing, nutritious and standing half a chance that all 3 of us like.

Once I have finally thought up this wonderful meal I then have to, at some point, lug it all back from the shops, prepare, cook and serve it up. Once meal time is over its then the dishwasher battle with arguing siblings about whose turn it is or who isn’t pulling their weight. Just as I finally relax and sigh a huge sigh of relief that its over with it dawns on me that I have to do the whole process in less than 24 hours. But those 24hours aren’t food free; there is more topping up of tummies on regular bases. Mine are old enough now to venture into the unknown, commonly known as a kitchen, and sort their own lunch out but this is met with dramatically outcries of there isn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen. The mere fact that I just returned from the supermarket loaded down with food doesn’t count.

There are two things keeping me sane, short-term they will return to school soon, long term I am thoroughly looking forward to the days they have grown up and invite me to Sunday lunch once in a blue moon. I shall remember every meal time whinge they have put me through and delight in whinging about their cooking.

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Its big, not a small thing that can be picked up easily and had to be moved around the lawn every time I mowed the lawn. Working on the fact that I roughly mow the lawn half the year once  a week and the slide had to be moved twice each time that’s about 520 times I had to shove, haul and drag the slide.

It’s been many things in its life time with us.  A lookout tower against invading ninjas, a easy way to check what was happening over garden fences (don’t ask), a part of a den and even a slide for the cat. The cat was not harmed in any way and although the cat is no longer with us it has nothing to do with the slide antics.

Two gardens down our neighbours quiet often have their young grandchildren to stay. There first visit their noses were peering over the fence at awe at our big blue slide in the garden. They would linger at out gate when they walked past just starring at the great blue thing we had in the garden. For the grandchildren’s next visit we help drag the slide to their garden for them to borrow it. The shrieks, giggles and “once more granddad” could be heard all day.

Last week my son finally declared that the slide could go but only if it was going to a good home. So today, the big blue slide was moved to its new home to 2 gardens up. My son is happy with this as he will be able to see its ok over the fence and the visiting grandchildren will no doubt be making full use of it.

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This week has been full of moments of human kindness amidst a week of horrors. With riots happening in places up and down the UK, reading my twitter feed was incredible, moving and just touching. First there were tweets of support for those in the affected cities. Then there were tweets and re-tweets making sure people were getting home safely or had somewhere to stay. Then the tweets organising the clean ups.

Thousands of people, who probably don’t know each other apart from twitter, were/are all reaching out to each other. Supporting each other, helping each other and just being there for each other.

There are days I hate the way we have moved forward with technology. How we all seem to forget the simpler things in life. How money drives everyone and everything. But there are brief moments I am blown away. Tonight I am all warm and fuzzy in side at modern technology and twitter.

To all my twitter friends who I don’t know at all and would probably walk past in the street without realising, you all are so lovely.

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“Hi how are you?”

Not wanting to be impolite I whispered back “fine thank you”

“How’s mum?”

I was now rather confused as I didn’t recognise her but she obviously knew me or at least my mum. “She’s well thank you” I whispered back.

I shuffled forward in the queue and she dully followed and the whispered again.

“I am going to have to go” she paused and I wondered what I should say. Before I had chance to ask if she was OK she carried on “there is a strange lady talking to me”

She then turned just enough for me to spot the wires of the ear piece from her phone. She hadn’t been talking to me but had been on the phone the whole time.

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Last Sunday I thought I better get some practise in before our first midweek ride. Its not just the fact that I hadn’t been on a bike in about 11 years that was filling me with fear, or the fact that I really would have to squeeze myself back into those really unsexy and unforgiving padded cycling shorts but the fact that when I did use to ride a bike I was about as stable as a toddler on their first bike. Confidence in bike riding I seriously do lack.

Of course I had triumphantly chucked my old cycling shorts so new ones had to be bought. The problem with new shorts is that the padding doesn’t sit that well with your natural shape. I personally do think walking should be done with legs close together, the padding in the cycling shorts assumes you want to adopt a John Wayne type stance. My first task after getting over the shock of being in lycra again, was to actually walk like a normal person.

If you were out and about last Sunday in my town and saw a bandy legged woman pushing, yes pushing, her bike to the cycle trail just half a mile from her home, I can confirm it was me. I had to ease myself into all this rather gently and I wasn’t about to make my first wobbles on the road side.

A couple of hours later I was safely home. I had managed it. I hurt; I hadn’t knocked over any other cyclist or walkers, I couldn’t walk properly and had swallowed more flies than I really should have. But I had done it.

The ride with my daughter I felt I was more confident. She wouldn’t let me wear my cycling shorts as people might see us together. I even managed to ride to the cycle trail (this really is a big thing for me). My confidence was starting to return even more till my daughter complained that I rode like a 2 year old. I didn’t realise till she pointed out that I put my feet down when manoeuvring things. She also complained I didn’t go fast enough and I would never get my confidence fully till I had the wind in my hair.

I resisted the urge to shove her into the nearest hedge as that really wouldn’t be that adult of me. I also resisted throwing a strop, turning round and going home. It was actually nice to be doing something with her that didn’t cost money, that wasn’t hurting my ears (teenage music) and was actually quiet fun and enjoyable.

So it appears my daughter and I might have a new hobby to do together. Though next time I will insist on one thing, I will be wearing my cycling shorts no matter how much it embarrasses her.

I do hope you understand the lack of photos. I could offer a photo of my daughter cycling off into the distance and although she has a nice behind this would be as about fair as seeing me squeezed into lycra. 

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I know there will be situations out there that an exercise bike designed for kids could be used in a beneficial way. But a part of me does wonder if it’s the start of a slippery slope. I asked my two children their thoughts in case I was being too negative. My daughter said it was healthier to be out on a bike in the fresh air. That kids don’t need any more excuses or reasons to stay indoors, computer games do that already. My son said that there was no fun in sitting on an exercise bike starring at a wall.

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So what can I do with a teen and tween for 6 weeks? They are too old for trips to the park to go on the swings and play dough isn’t appropriate anymore. I asked my teen and her suggestions were

• Walk in the woods.
• Treasure hunt.
• Feeding the ducks. (seriously but you’re a teen?)
• Bike ride.
• Picnic.
• Walking down to the beach as its healthy, saves on car parking and fuel.

She obviously is hoping for 6 weeks of unbroken sunshine.

For the past two summers I have made a couple of rules at the start of the holidays and this year will be no different.

Mention the word bored and they get given a carrier bag and have to fill it with junk/rubbish from their room for recycling/rubbish bin. Variations of the word bored also count.

I use the token system for the use of internet and computer games. They get allocated a bit extra to a normal week and then it’s up to them how and when they use up their tokens.  Tokens are blank address cards with 1 hour or ½ hour written on them to the total I allow them to use the internet or computer games each week. So if I only want them loose on the internet for 10 hours in a week they are given 10 cards with 1 hour written on them. The tokens get dished out at the beginning of the week and they have to give a token back to me each time they use the internet or computer game. Once they have spent them there is no more till the reissue the following week. Bad behaviour can mean a token is taken away.

I also make it clear that are times that I do have to work. If I announce I am working they have to amuse themselves for the set time.

I also make a list of all the small things that need doing and stick it on the fridge. This can be things like getting the neighbours papers from the newsagent, sorting through the ‘sod it’ cupboard or anything else I think they can manage. If they, unprompted, do any or help with anything on the list they can have a reward like extra tokens or later bedtime. Painting the whole of the outside of the house has remand uncrossed off each year but I hold onto hope.

Reading it back I am starting to think I sound like I am a member of the Gestapo. Honestly I am not but having the rules does insure we all know where we stand.

We do visit the library at least once a week. Luckily, ours is literally around the corner which means I can borrow DVD’s and return them the next day and only get charged 50p.

I stock up on felt tip pens, paper and any craft things I can pick up cheaply. Even teens have been known to while away several hours doodling.

I also stock up on cooking ingredients and encourage them to make surprise me biscuits or cakes. These are nothing more than the basic recipe and then letting them loose on whatever flavourings they want.  tip although spinach and pecan muffins sounded a good idea and did actually taste ok whilst warm, once cold they were disgusting.

Of course all of this can completely be thrown out the window if the sun shines. Then it’s pack up a lunch and get outside.

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In the daytime when I am working I like silence. I don’t even listen to the radio as it distracts me too much so I really am not up on what’s playing these days. So when did I suddenly realise that all the teen music sounds the same or that I actually didn’t like their choice of words.

I thought that it was just a case of being out of the loop too long and that the being forced fed the top 40 several times would restart my like for modern music. Alas after about the third repeat of the songs I was planning to release the CD out the car window in a Frisbee type move.

Is it something we all go through as we get older? Do our ears and minds eventually grow up and decide that they no longer like certain kinds of music? Am I actually missing out on anything by not listening to it all?

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My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL.
“If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock you into the middle of next week!”

My mother taught me LOGIC.
“Because, I said so, that’s why.”

My mother taught me MORE LOGIC .
“If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you’re not going to the store with me.”

My mother taught me FORESIGHT..
“Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’re in an accident.”

My mother taught me IRONY.
“Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS ..
“Shut your mouth and eat your supper.”

My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM.
“Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck”

My mother taught me about STAMINA
“You’ll sit there until all that spinach is gone.”

My mother taught me about WEATHER.
“This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it.”

My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY.
“If I told you once, I’ve told you a million times. Don’t exaggerate!”

My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE .
“I brought you into this world, and I can take you out”

My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION ..
“Stop acting like your father!”

My mother taught me about ENVY..
“There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don’t have wonderful parents like you do.”

My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION.
“Just wait until we get home.”

My mother taught me about RECEIVING ..
“You are going to get it when you get home!”

My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE.
“If you don’t stop crossing your eyes, they are going to get stuck that way.”

My mother taught me ESP .
“Put your sweater on; don’t you think I know when you are cold?”

My mother taught me HUMOR.
“When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don’t come running to me.”

My mother taught me HOW TO BECOME AN ADULT ..
“If you don’t eat your vegetables, you’ll never grow up.”

My mother taught me GENETICS.
“You’re just like your father.”

My mother taught me about my ROOTS.
“Shut that door behind you. Do you think you were born in a barn?”

My mother taught me WISDOM.
“When you get to be my age, you’ll understand.”

And my favorite:  My mother taught me about JUSTICE .
“One day you’ll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you!”

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Until a moment ago I hadn’t thought any more of it. My daughter has just came down and given me a note.

Just typing the words out really wouldn’t have done it justice so I thought I would just scan it in.

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12 years on and nothing has changed. Jeans that I have long given up hope wearing again without inducing a hernia look effortlessly perfect on her. The little vest top look that struggles to hold it all together or indeed in on me is again perfect on her body given the fact everything on her isn’t trying to escape south ( or eat and west too). And just don’t get me started on jodhpurs.

And so the life of living with a teenage daughter is in full swing. By my maths I have 5 of the 7 teenage years left to endure. 5 more years of nothing of the girly nature of mine is being safe. 5 more years of practising being able to say she looks lovely without it showing on my face that indeed she does look perfect but makes me feel very old and past it. Wishing she wouldn’t skip down the path after a long day with such energy in front of me when I struggle to put one foot in front of the other after one supermarket shop.

The only saving fact in all this beauty and perkiness  is that I no longer think I am losing my marbles when I can’t find my moisturiser, shoes, top, necklace…….anything of mine. The fact is that there are no magic fairies that whisk these items away but in fact a teenager. If ever I lose anything in the house I now know it’s in most likely to be found in her room.

Don’t get me wrong her youth and beauty really is lovely to see and I am proud to say helped to create her. But it does bring home how much my own body has fast passing its sell by date.

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There is, though, one fairy I do very much believe in, the Fairy Hobmother. You may have heard about him before as he has been sprinkling his fairy dust around the blogging world. He turns up unannounced and grants wishes on bloggers comments.

Masion Cupcake wished for dishwasher and her wish was granted. Much to the relief of her old dishwasher, her husband. Single Dad is now a proud owner of a new washing machine and Mediocre Mum is now slow cooking lots of lovely family dishes. Many others have had their wonderful wishes granted.

So how do you wish? All you have to do is have a look at Appliances Online and decide what you would really like. Would a new cooker make your day or what about a washing machine? There is a lot to choose from. Once you’ve decided make a comment below with your wish. The Fairy Hobmaster decides where he will sprinkle his next fairy dust, will your wish be the next one?

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He seems happy with this till he goes to bed. He has obviously been worrying about the discussion and tells me I really should think about having a mid life crisis if Jane is thinking of having one on Eastenders.

So I think I am planning my own mid life crisis. I want to decide my own fate before a mid life crisis creeps up on me.

Men typically buy a sports car or a motorbike. Hmm both are impractical for me (hang on isn’t that what it’s all about?) and I am far too sensible to go for impractical.

Sky diving seems pretty standard to for a mid life crisis but I start to wobble at the top of my stairs so a plane is really out of the question.

Next to spring to mind are adding or removing bodily bits i.e. boob job or liposuction? No mine are big enough and ew lipo no way.

Dying hair an odd and vibrant colour and/or cutting it all off? It has taken me 40 years to discover my perfect hair cut so no I am not about to spend another 40 putting it right again.

Dress totally inappropriately for my age. Well technically I do already. Don’t hate me but I can still fit into kids jeans (they are so much cheaper).

Have a divorce and start all over again? Oh I have so been there and worn out the t-shirt.

This is harder than I thought, oh wait I have got an idea. Drum roll please……

My midlife crisis is going to be not having one. I shall just be practical and safe me as boring is the new exciting.

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Continuing my list of what I have learnt I move on to raising a son. In my house we are on birthday count down as my son will be 12 this week. So have I learnt anything about having a boy? Here are my 12 things I have learnt about bringing up a boy.

1 – Getting a cat to have shower is easier than getting a boy in the shower.

2 – Boys like mud, trees and anything that involves fighting kicks. Combine all three and you’re the best mum in the world.

3 – Homework and a boy is not a happy combination. There are tears and frustration and not always just from him. Oh and they never have a pen.

4 – Boys have an attention span shorter than a goldfish. Unless, of course, I am talking about chocolate or scooter tricks. Not that I personally do scooter tricks, he does, the mere mention gets his attention though.

5 – Boys don’t have a tidy gene.

6 – Boys talk nonstop, often the same thing 7 different ways.

7 – Boys have a constant energy that if it was bottled would make someone very rich.

8 – Boys can be surprising sensitive and caring. This is rare though so don’t get too excited or worried.

9 – Boys have smelly feet. ( even if you have mastered number 1)

10 – Boys will happily wear the same clothes every day forever. I am now an expert in the art of night time clothes stealing to enable them to be washed.

I asked my daughter what it was like having a brother….”annoying and smelly” !

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1 – I learnt that even though life has moved on from the Victorian era, some people’s views haven’t moved with it. Negatively and prejudices against single mums is still out there.

2 – I learnt that I am a lot stronger than I ever thought I was.

3 – I learnt that there a lot of DIY jobs that I, as a woman, can actually do. I won’t be fobbed off with its man’s job again.

4 – I learnt that no matter how much I try there are things I will never understand or be interested in with cars being one of them. Hurray shouts my local garage.

5 – When life seems really hard there are friends that go beyond the call of duty. It’s so important to have a network of friends.

6 – Beans on toast every night is ok, right?

7 – They are days when you think you’re not going to make to the end of the day and days when you think you can take on the world.

8 – I’ve learnt that children can survive divorce.

9 – I’ve learnt that they are days I crave salience and days I hate salience.

10 – That it doesn’t necessarily get easier just the challenges change daily.

I asked the children if they have learnt anything in the last 10 years and this is their contribution.

Daughter – having two homes means you have to be more organised as otherwise your favourite jeans are at one parent when you want to wear them.

Son – having two bedrooms means you get nagged to keep two bedrooms tidy.

I have just added 12 Things I have learnt raising a son do have a read.

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Love Much

Live Well

Dream Big

Laugh Often.

I have worn my ‘exciting new purchase’ all day as I pottered in the garden and plotted my revenge on the neighbourhood cats. Every now and again the heart tings against the bracelet as if to remind you of the words.

I think the 8 words say it all.

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Back WIWY, come on keep up-article title, my mother would tell me about her child hood. There was no ‘would you like to learn to sew?’, it was a given certainty that you would be learning to sew. Utter the same words to a teenager of today and they look at you like you’ve completely lost the plot. My mother had to help make dinner and not just half heartedly empty a dishwasher. She knew a carrot from a potato whilst it was still in the ground. These were basic things she was taught just like all the other teenagers in her street.

As my mother brought me up some of these lessons seemed less important. The ever changing modern life suggested we didn’t need all these basic life skills so I was only taught how to sew. Has it helped me in life, was it a useful skill to know? Yes to all of those as my first job after leaving school was a seamstress. In actual fact I sewed right up until a few years ago. Need skirt mending, I was the girl. Need a pair of curtains made, I was there. I even made many wedding dresses as I could make any creation without the need of a pattern.  I now have a skill that if ever I need to turn to it, I can. The cooking and gardening skills weren’t taught to me and its only now as an adult I wish they had.

As generations watch the following generations grow and evolve, it seems to me as even though we are advancing positively in some areas, in other areas we are regressing at an alarming rate. Life at the moment seems to be all about wealth, possessions and gaining more of the both. If you’re poor you’re very hard done by. In previous generations more people were on the breadline, more people were making ends meet. Were they any less happy? As each generation had their own children, their childhoods made them determined that their children would have it different. The knock on effect that brings us up to present day is that children have a completely different upbringing and I don’t think it’s all for the good.

As parents we naturally want the best for our children. We don’t want them to have hardship or fail but are we actually doing more harm than good by letting them have everything and not letting them experience these things.

We all know the economic climate is changing. Jobs aren’t for life; there is no certainty or security in anything anymore. There are job cuts, redundancies, hours being cut everywhere whilst the cost of living is going up and up. Are we going full circle to a leaner way of living? We will actually learn anything by any of it?

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..I know all us parents look old and wrinkly to you and we might not be as young as you would like but it may surprise you that we weren’t actually born this age. All parents were young once. It may be hard to believe when we struggle with what day of the week it is and sometimes even your names escape us, but it is true we have been there, we were kids once too and we know all the tricks. You probably think you invented the clever trick of just wetting the toothbrush, alas you didn’t. You may think your being super smart by just putting your feet in the shower; again alas we’ve done it too. Whatever trick or clever idea you think you thought up we have already beaten you to it. We have already thought it, done it and owned the t-shirt. Though the fashion of wearing your jeans halfway down your bum look is all yours, we aren’t taking ownership of that one.

Hint – were not as daft as you think we are. Trying to outsmart us will only result in you losing the battle. Save your energy.

When we were young there was no such thing as a dishwasher. Shocking I know but it’s the truth. When we were made to do the dishes, which actually happened every day, we had to wash each item by hand, then dry and put it all away. It wasn’t considered cruelty towards children either, we knew it had to be done and got on with it. So next time you feel it’s justified to throw a strop because you have to empty the dishwasher; be thankful us parents like dishwashers and that dishwashers caught on. It could be a whole lot worse.

Hint – if you would prefer we sell the dishwasher and you’re itching to do the washing up by hand, just say. It all could be a lot worse.

There seems to be a general consideration that we parents are just out to ruin children’s fun, sadistic and just basically have no idea. We seem to nag all the time and forever on your backs. Trust me when I say if we were out to ruin your fun or had sadistic tendencies we would pick something a lot worse than chores. The thing is that in a household there are several people. This means there are several people to cook for, to wash clothes for and tidy up after. Is it really fair that just one person does all this? When it’s left to one person it does make that one person rather pissed off. That pissed off person does have a life too (yes I know it’s shocking to hear parents have lives too) so to have a happy household it is fairer to all help with the chores. That way everything gets done and everyone gets the chance to have a life.

Hint – the word parent doesn’t mean slave, honestly, if you still doubt us check the dictionary. Try using a bit of consideration for others; you will be amazed with the results. Us parents go all smiley and tend to stop nagging.

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Being a single mum I can’t be in more than one place. I can’t clock watch, prise, cook, help with homework and remain sane. I am human. So I have a sort of token system to help with my children and the wonders of modern technology.

Mobile Phones

My children are both kitted out with mobiles. More as a safety reason as they live both here and at their Dads.  Although I can manage top ups every other month, over usage stretches my budget. To keep things under control and to help around the house, the children earn their top ups in the form of chores. Here is how I do it.

I worked out a list of manageable chores for each of them.

I then worked out how many chores they could practically do a week. For example they won’t empty the dishwasher every day as they aren’t here every day.

Working with my monthly budget, I worked out how much each chore should be worth. So if they empty the dishwasher every day they are here (plus their other chores) they can nearly earn the full amount of their top up in the desired time. I say nearly so that it encourages a Mum Clause to be done.

I added a ‘Mum Clauses’. I can add an unspecified amount for exceptional behaviour. For things like, acting on intuitive without being asked. If my daughter sees the washing machine has finished and puts the washing out to dry without being asked, I smile with pride and produce a Mum Clause Bonus. The Mum Clause also means I can take money off for bad behaviour.

Internet and Computer Games.

When my children first found the wonders of facebook and playing computer games, I first let them play when they wanted. It was all new, shiny and exciting. They of course used both far too much. They got irritable and tired and just plain horrible.

So i made some tokens (got nifty with some blank postcards).

I worked out a sensible weekly time allowance for the internet and games. This was roughly half what they had previously been using.

On each card I wrote ½ hour on each card till made up the weekly allowance.

The cards are dished out to each child once a week. It is up to them then to use their tokens when they want.

Again if they are exceptionally good I will dish out a free ½ hour or take away tokens for bad behaviour.

Both systems give the children some responsibility and I think its this that stops them throwing a tantrum when its time for the off button. I think this is I don’t use the internet/games tokens all the time any more as both the children have a more adult approach to the internet and computer games. If they show signs of sliding though, I will be wiping out the cards again. I think both systems have helped to teach the children a tiny part of the value of time, money and responsibility.

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Which living person do you most admire, and why?

Oh nice easy one to start with – not. Think the person I admire the most is my neighbour. She is in her 80′s and lost her husband last year. Despite 53 years of never being apart and now alone she is still full of laughter. Never says a cross word and makes the best cakes ever.

When were you happiest?

Now, not as right this minute filing this in and realising how boring I am, but life in general I am now at my happiest.

What was your most embarrassing moment?

As teenager hugging my mum in Tesco’s, it wasn’t my mum, my mum was doubled up laughing at me yards away.

Aside from property, what’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought?

Probably the dishwasher, washing machine and fridge freezer when the old second hand ones all died in the same week. For the first time ever I bought brand new and not second hand. Still can’t work the washing machine though.

What is your most treasured possession?

A watch my birth father bought me when we first met, 20 years after I had been adopted.

Where would you like to live?

I am very lucky to live near the sea but I would like a bigger garden as I always wanted to keep ducks, so just down the road in the bigger houses would do.

What’s your favourite smell?

Freshly mowed grass or new books. Go on have a good sniff of a book , you know you want to.

Who would play you in the film of your life?

Apparently Joanne Whalley is the spitting image of me ( or me of her)What do you think?

Joanne Whalley(actress)	Me (just me) and Daughter( drama queen)

What is your favourite book?

Dont laugh but its the dictionary. All those words,columns and lovely thin paper.

What is your most unappealing habit?

My anger, I don’t get angry very often but when i do I can make strapping 6 foot men whimper. ( I am only 5ft and a fag paper)

What would be your fancy dress costume of choice?

A cat suit like cat woman but only if it comes with the body too.

What is your earliest memory?

Mum asking me to throw my coat down the stairs. I did as I was told and landed at the bottom of the stairs with the coat still in my hand.

What is your guiltiest pleasure?

Creeping down the stairs in the middle of the night for a bowl of cereal. Its the silence, darkness and wrong time that makes it all so right.

What do you owe your parents?

Well I did promise them two tomato plants which I dropped round last week so I think I am all up to date.

To whom would you most like to say sorry, and why?

No one really.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?

My children, then my phone oh and not forgetting the computer.

What does love feel like?

All giddy and warm.

What was the best kiss of your life?

Kissing my daughter hello after giving birth, didn’t think I was going to make it and it was the first ever baby I had ever held too.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

“Please pretend to at least like each other” ( kids )

“Yes I am listening”

What is the worst job you’ve done?

Manager of a shoe shop, I cant stand feet. Also became penniless as I do love shoes.

If you could edit your past, what would you change?

Nothing , the past is gone. Only today and tomorrow I can change.

What is the closest you’ve come to death?

Probably when I was pregnant with my first child. I had preeclampsia which went unnoticed for too long.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

My children and not throttling them so far.

When did you last cry, and why?

A few weeks ago when my young cat had to be put to sleep. Howled for days.

How do you relax?

When I am asleep. I have to be either doing something or asleep I cant do the bit in between. In a bid to change this I have started gardening and knitting but don’t readily admit to this in public as it sounds like I am old.

What single thing would improve the quality of your life?

Employing a chef. Cooking and I don’t gel too well and I forget to eat when the children aren’t here.

What is the most important lesson life has taught you?

That money doesn’t buy happiness, you have to find it inside yourself.

Now that I feel completely exhausted from all that thinking, I have to tag some more….

Jo from 2Starsandaswirl

Garry from The Blog Up North

Annie from ChildmindingMummy

Sarah from MaisonCupcake

and Coffee Curls

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I was one of those this week. I decided I needed to have some me time before the Easter holidays so took myself off for walks. Map in hand, lunch all packed and off I went. I learnt that slight incline doesn’t mean that on walking directions. It actually means oxygen will probably be needed. And who decided to put a public foot path through a field of cows on a hill really needs shooting. If your of the sadistic nature you may now take a minute to picture me speed walking up the hill, through the cow field whilst petrified of cows.

The other thing I learnt is that parks aren’t what they use to be or maybe I never went to a posh park before. To me a park was a green field with swings. The park I found on my walk was breath taking. It was for one huge and had every swing, slide etc that I child would want. But it’s the flower beds that shocked me. Yes this may sound very old but they were gorgeous. Someone had taken a lot of time thinking about what colours to go with what. Which scents worked with others. I am sure they never did that back in my day. I sat and ate my lunch watching toddlers marvel at the flowers and trees.

You forget when your own children get older, the sense of wonder that little ones have. How new and exciting everything is. One mum had the most ingenious idea of transporting picnic and bike paraphernalia in what I can only describe as a small cart. That is one of things I don’t miss. The amount of stuff you have to carry or fit onto the pushchair. I can still remember my children’s pushchair in minute detail to this day. My mother in law let me loose in the shop and I became the proud owner of a Mamas and Papas pushchair. Back then it was the name to have and quiet rightly so as it survived two children with plenty of life still left in it. I can remember being the first mum in the town to have a tartan cover instead of plain one. Oh I was such a trend setter. Today of course you can buy pushchairs in mouth watering technicolor. I can also remember my daughter showing signs of kleptomania on shopping trips. I would get home to find things that I hadn’t paid for in the bottom of the foot muff. I do hope that wasn’t a sign of things to come in her later life.

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But there is something she did 40 years ago that strikes me as very brave. My mother couldn’t have children so I was adopted when I was only a month old. The brave thing she did was not to keep it a secret. I was never sat down and told I was adopted, I always knew. From before I could even walk and talk she told me daily that I was special as I grew in her heart and not below it. She would openly tell anyone that I was adopted if they commented on how alike we looked.

It’s not till now that I have children that I realise how brave her decision was. As a teenager I could have callously thrown it back at her or used the words in anger, I never did. I could have rejected her as my mother, I never did. I could have blamed adoption for anything and everything, I never did.

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So why are women having mid life crises earlier then men? A part of it is the pressure to succeed as early as possible; it has a knock on effect. In just a decade the average age of a chief executive has gone down from late fifties to the forties and with women as common in the work place as men it’s getting us too.

It’s often something big like the loss of a job or someone close to us that makes us stop and re-evaluate our lives. Its brought home that nothing is permanent and how fragile life can actually be. It can be an illness that changes our routine. Once out of the normal routine it can be a big enough jolt to make us realise there is a different way to do things.

Since turning the dreaded 40 my worries and thoughts have started to change and if I go by the symptoms and reports, I am just about there.

The new age to have a mid life crises in woman in 35 – 44 - Yep tick that box.

Have a feeling of lost identity - with my ex husband living within walking distance, my children have grown up rather free-range. There can be periods I hardly see them. Staying at dads, a sleep over here and there and woosh nearly a week can go by. I can feel at times as though I’m not needed.

Boredom- I can’t tick this one as I was an only child so the feeling boredom was something I tackled very early. I learnt very early that to keep myself occupied and it’s still with me today.

Feeling of worthlessness and lack of meaning - er yes I can tick that one sometimes but I am not going to dwell on that.

Time running out - I felt this first a few years ago and its starting to get worse.

Nearly two years ago I realised that for over 20 years I had been in full time employment. Nothing new there and I am actually very lucky to have been. I have been a seamstress, a shop manager and an office manager, oh and a PA to someone rather posh. I have loved all my jobs, so much so I always gave more than 100% but giving that much is stressful. To boot I had two children and a divorce in those 20 years too. So 2 years ago I went self employed. I wanted to be in control of myself. I didn’t want to answer to anyone else. I didn’t do it for money reasons ad have no fanciful ideas or drive to be so successful I employ others. When making the decision I talked to the children explaining what I wanted to do and that money would be a lot tighter. They unreservedly backed me all the way. In my two years eating baked beans on toast every day I have relaxed, I have become less materialistic. I don’t yearn for the finer things in life anymore. We have enough food in the cupboard, bills are paid on time and I am more of a free spirit. That’s me happy. So maybe my midlife crisis isn’t all that bad.

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When choosing baby pyjamas it is important to select sleepwear that is the baby’s exact size. Too often parents purchase baby pyjamas that are simply too large for their infant. This happens mainly as parents want to save money knowing that their infant will quickly outgrow clothing items. However, purchasing baby pyjamas that are too large is actually incorrect. Baby pyjamas should have a snug fit. Avoid purchasing loose fitting pyjamas. This same way of thinking holds true for baby pyjamas that comes with feet.

Some parents will purchase other clothing items to use as pyjamas. Perhaps they purchased a loose fitting t-shirt pr sweatshirt. This is also a mistake. These clothing items were not designed to be worn as pyjamas. Pyjamas that are too loose cause too much air space to form between the baby’s skin and their clothing. This loose fit greatly increases the risk for both flammability and suffocation. While parents have good intentions, loose fitting garments should be avoided.

Many kinds of baby sleepwear are specially made to be either flame retardant or resistant. You don’t always have to purchase just this kind of sleepwear. Even if pyjamas aren’t treated to be flame retardant, they are still safe for the baby to wear as long as they fit appropriately. Think of how long underwear fits a man. That same tight fit is how your baby’s pyjamas should look.

Fabrics can vary in baby pyjamas. Obviously, the kind of fabric the pyjamas you choose will depend upon the season. For the warm summer months, cotton is an obvious choice as it both breathes and absorbs moisture. For the cold winter months, flannel is a popular choice as it keeps the body heat from escaping.

Check out the clothing sale at K & Co (http://www.kandco.com/ )and you can find some great deals on baby products and maternity clothing.

This is a sponsored post

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Toilet Rolls. Why I am the only one in the house who can change a toilet roll. Do they become suddenly invisible as soon as the little cardboard bit starts twirling on the roll holder? Maybe the cardboard has special powers that can only be seen by adults? Maybe I have superpowers that means only I can see them. I have tried asking my children nicely and even resorted to full blowing a gasket. Both failed. I was tempted to just not change it but I shudder to think if the paper work would just fail to get done.  Ewww awful thought.

Instead I shall comfort myself that one day my children will be adults and they will poses their own super powers that enables them to see empty toilet roll tubes.

Duvet Covers - these huge great cumbersome things have the ability to turn inside out inside the washing machine. Something that Houdini would have been proud of. I thought I had it sussed when I had the idea to put the cover in inside out to start with. Ha no, it got smart to that and stayed inside out.

The quickest way round this one was to just adapt and become a fiend at putting a duvet cover on whichever way it comes out.

Socks and washing machines. They say it’s the small things in life that matter but it’s also the small things in life that can annoy the most. Washing socks is hardly rocket science but keeping them paired up is a complete mystery to me. Somewhere between coming of the kid’s feet, through the washing machine and back to the draw, I can manage to lose socks. I can even go for several weeks with success to only return to lost sockitis again.

Its hardly end of the world stuff and they will all pair up eventually it just erks me that I don’t understand where they go.

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After one incident at the train station when my daughter was with me, I tried convincing her and me it must be because I look approachable. I don’t think she was impressed and her tone of her grunt suggested differently.

This week’s incident has left me pondering. As I carelessly wondered into the children’s section in the library I was pounced on by a Granny. She embarked enthusiastically on a conversation about her grandchildren all of various ages. She was obviously very proud of them as she reflected on the delights of each age and asked me what my favourite age of children was.

So pretend with me for a moment that we have just received the latest time freeze machine. All shiny and new and instructions read, what age would you zap your children?

For me the small baby stage is a tempting choice as they were so small and cuddly. They stayed where I put them but did render me a walking zombie.

Then there was that very cute age when they just learnt to toddle and babble. Cute actions and sounds which mesmerized and made me laugh even though i was physically and mentally tired. They no longer stayed put and translating gobbly gook was second nature.

The stage just before they started school was a time of fascination for them as they discovered books and writing. Gobbly gook made way for why this, why that and more whys. Tiredness was less important as solid sleep patterns where formed as quickly as my patience waned. Starting school age was a time for much needed space for both them and me. Cuddles became more precious and there teacher knew everything.

Mine are now advancing through secondary school with conversations coming close to intellectual. Friendships are being formed as sleepovers and trips to town take them out of the house and talking to a brick wall is now a daily feeling for me. They have learnt to make me a decent cup of coffee (Someone else making you a cup of coffee is seriously underrated bliss) which is served with grunts and tuts as attitudes blossom with their hormones.

So for me my time freeze machine remains all shiny and new as to me all the ages are brilliant with only a small hint of horribleness. What age is your time freeze machine set too?

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In honour in making this milestone with still my own teeth, hair and a tiny bit of dignity still remaining  I thought I would list the things I love about being me, being 40 and anything else I have to look forward to.

At reaching 40 I can now stop worrying about fashion. I never did get it, got it or look good in it. At last I have an excuse to be free of it.

I can now act any age I want. If I act like a big kid it’s because I am old. If I act old it’s because I am old.

At last I can watch decent programmes and appreciate the lengths they go to in telling me where nutmeg comes from. (The flower on a tree in case you were wondering)

Quality doesn’t just mean expense any more, it means so much more. It means comfort, lasting and still expensive.

I can smile and look at my kids and think haven’t I done well, clever me.

I have something to blame the middle age spread on, nature. And we all know nature always wins in the end.

I can officially feel knackered and complain about it out loud.

Gardening is now cool.

I can argue with the TV and win.

I no longer have to leap out of bed or leap into the shower as at 40 leaping anywhere really isn’t a sensible option.

As I settle into accepting I am now 40 I think I will have a new motto for life. Sod it I’m 40.

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Did you know that on the 1^st March, the European Court of Justice will make a ruling on whether gender discrimination is illegal? Now you’re probably wondering how it would affect you and why as a single mum am I waffling on about it. Well it could affect you as it could impact your car insurance. As women drivers we typically see lower car insurance costs whilst the boy racer pay higher costs. If they rule that gender discrimination is illegal us women drivers could see the cost of our car insurance go up whilst the male drivers who have had to stomach higher insurance costs see theirs lowering.

I am normally the one that bleats on that problems are just hurdles to conquer but even I am getting less optimistic. Take this month which has been the hardest month in a while for me. The month has been budgeted for; I even took into account the half term I’m hungry every 5 minutes. There was even enough money left over to take the kids and I out for my dreaded 40^th birthday this week, nothing fancy just Pizza Hut. So life was looking sweet for this month. Then we had a tragedy. Now if you’re not a cat person you may skip the next few lines. Felix was our family cat. We had him from a kitten just 3 years ago. He wasn’t a normal cat as he thought he was more of a dog and would act accordingly. He was a people person and wherever I was he was there. If I was in the veg patch he was helping, when the kids went to bed he shared himself by sleeping on one bed then moving on to the next, finally ending up on mine. The kids even taught him to lift his poor when he wanted something. For me he was my day company as he would sit on the end of my desk all day. Last week he had a funny turn and had to be rushed to the vets. It of course wasn’t normal vet hours but late on Saturday night. Several x-rays, a drip and tests and a day later I sadly had to make the heart rending choice to let him go as he had aggressive cancer. Now whilst I know I did the right things at the right time I am left with a £300 bill which the vets want ASAP. £300 which of course I can’t magic up out of thin air. But that wasn’t the end of it. Whilst trying to find the impossible the car decided to join in the act and develop faults. All though the mechanic found it highly hilarious as I described the best I could a flapping driver’s door, the cost of repair was not leaving me laughing.

I’m car-less, cat-less and my birthday is cancelled.

When further belt tightening isn’t an option something has to give. If the above ruling goes through and my car insurance goes up it will probably be the straw on the camels back for me. If I don’t have a car I don’t have a business.

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When I was young my mum once said that things like telling me off or letting me learn hurt her more than it hurt me. Back then I assumed my mother was off her rocker and how on earth could it hurt her. But now I know. When my daughter was small she had seen adverts for crème eggs on the TV and she was desperate to try one. It must have been Easter time as there were adverts everywhere tormenting her. Eventually I said if she helped me tidy up and we found enough change around the house then we would go and buy one. With her prized pennies in her hand, off we went to the corner store and bought her first crème egg. She wanted to carry it home, not trusting me with this precious thing. Half way home she couldn’t wait any longer and wanted to eat it. I explained that no we should wait till we got home as she might drop it. She persisted. Now at the point I could have pulled rank and walk the rest of the way with her crying and a thousand pleases from her. Instead I explained that I didn’t think it was a good idea as if she dropped it she wouldn’t be able to eat it and we didn’t have enough change to go back and get another one. She understood but still wanted to eat it. We continued with her unwrapping the foil, eyes as big as saucers at this new wonder in her hand. Her first bite filled her face with the hugest grin I ever seen. Splat, she dropped it after the first bite. She looked at me and being far to wise for her years swallowed hard and carried on walking home. She knew I had meant what I had said and that I had been right.

The walk home was the longest walk I had ever done. She walked silently blinking back the tears.  My heart went out to her, I desperately wanted to go back and get another one. Maybe I should have as it was only a crème egg. Just as she learnt from it, I learnt big time too that parenting hurts.

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Keep smiling and cherish the happy bits and learn from the bad bits.

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Cold weather  this week the weather forecasters are getting all excited about  cold weather coming in from the north east with possible snow. Being the furthest point from the north east there is no chance we will be having snow but it has turned cold out there. I admit I like it when it’s cold as I feel justified in having the heating on and curling up in the evening with a blanket is the only sane thing to do. I have though had to get tough and insist the children wear their coats. This of course means I am now seen in their eyes as over protective and over reacting.

Community spirit is alive even for a cat.  Our beloved cat, Felix, is poorly. Now this won’t mean much if you’re not of the cat loving camp but to us it’s a vigil of hugs. A rush visit to the vet was needed last night and not being able to find the cat box had to borrow a neighbours. It’s turned all very Coronation Streetish in my terrace today with neighbours asking how he is and passing on their best to him. After enduring the indignity of a thermometer up his bum and double dose injections, I can happily report he isn’t any worse.

Not liking this week….

The recent floods Cornwall – it was sudden and devastating. As quickly as it hit the news it’s been forgotten again, but not by us who live in Cornwall. Not only have friends been knee deep in water and mud but schools, markets and businesses have been closed too. Some businesses wont be opening again as the devastation was too much. The knock on effect has been felt by everyone.

New street lights even darker  I know I am a lover of the darker evenings but the recent change in the street lights have made our streets even darker. The council have changed the street lights to newer sky friendly ones. Now that bit may be good but the street is now lit with pool of light. It does have a Victorian feel about it as you plunger into almost darkness in-between each lamppost.

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• Loving the autumn leaves on the ground. I am very fussy though, they have to be dry and crunchy, none of that soggy limp messy stuff. Oh and have to be a good few inches to get a whoosh effect. Probably totally childish but a good scrunching makes me smile even if I do look a bit odd.
• Loving the fact the cat acts like a thermometer. If it warm he is nowhere to be seen. If it’s hot then he is dramatically laying on the floor in the doorways to gain maximum drama queen effect. Chilly he is loitering around the sofas waiting for a lap. Cold he is on my lap, regardless if I am at my desk and trying to work.

Disliking …

• Hating a bit strong but not thrilled about the fact that my daughter declared I am so unfunny it’s just about funny. I resisted the urge to inform her in a detailed speech that I was considered funny once.
• Having to think up meals every day. -Notsupermum posted that according to a survey we all stick to the same old favourites each week. You can read about that in her post Do you cook the same meals each week (but you must promise to come back). I think I struggle with even naming 7. I loathe the job every evening. I stare blankly at the fridge and freezer contents willing a mouth-watering recipe to drop in my lap. I’m not a bad cook, granted not Delia standard, but one day I would like the kids to say wow that was tasty.
• Not liking Supermarket adverts. Particularly Asda’s, there adverts are really starting to annoy me.  Ok some of their products are cheaper than other stores but there are other shops that are cheaper again. I lucky that I have three supermarkets in walking distance, Asda and Lidl. Tesco too but only when I am feeling super fit. I was in Lidl’s a few days ago with a couple in front of me in the que with a shopping trolley filled right up. As their shopping went through the till I roughly added up what I would expect to pay if we were in Asda. Not the most scientific experiment but I can normally get the bill added up in my head with a £2 or £3 margin. I worked out it would have been £67 in Asda. Their bill in Lidls came to £36.

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• The whole house being awake at 6.30am when there was no school and still dark outside. Now I may be a fan of winter but dark mornings feel just so wrong. To me it feels that I am either being naughty for being up so early like Christmas or your leaving for an airplane to some exciting and exotic holiday  not just getting up to start the day all over again .

• New Labour Leader  well not him personally as I don’t know him and I don’t follow politics. But why is there so much coverage and talk about him and his brother. Is that really the most important thing in the news?

• Weather forecasts. In the summer they said it would be sunny we had rain. Now they forecast rain and we get sun. No if they were forecasting for next week I would understand them being a bit out but the night before and they still can’t get it right? If I look on the weather sites now apparently I have rain …..looks out of window …nope. Don’t they understand the importance of a parent getting it right when you have a son who lives on a scooter and can’t go to the skate park if there is a puddle?

But I am loving ….

• My daughter being 14 purely because its an even number. I don’t like odd numbers but that doesn’t mean I am going to love being 40 next year.

• Being mistaken for my daughters sister instead of her mother  oh ok this one doesn’t count as it was part of a dream and not real life.

• Seeing what wonderful friends my daughter has on turning 14 this week she has had some lovely acts of friendship. One friend contacted me to ask if it was ok to drop a birthday cake she had made for her in on the way to school. Granted it was rather flat but the time and care she had put into making the cake and decorating it was just brilliant. Another friend used one of the online card making sites to send a card covered in pictures that were dear to my daughter. Think that was the first time I have seen my daughter speechless.

• Picking peas, carrots and broccoli from the garden for our tea. I got into the vegetable growing lark a bit late in the year but have still managed to grow a few respectful looking carrots. As my son said we have proper carrots now.  All very wholesome and motherish but truly bitten by the bug.

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Of course with being a teenager it’s no longer cool to have birthday parties and I gladly agree. I was not one of the naturally gifted mums that could breeze through a birthday party with a genuine smile on their face. My days of sticky fingers, party bags and birthday tantrums are well and truly over. Thank god. I am not totally saved from birthday mental melt down though as birthday parties have been replaced with sleep overs. Now a normal sleep over is one friend at a time with me hardly notice they are here. A birthday sleep over for 14 year olds is another story. They no longer fit top to tail in a bed. They have a severe lack of interest in sleep and one DVD doesn’t cut it.

So on Friday my small home will be taken over by my daughter and her friends for the dreaded deed. Not living a mansion (funny that) the event has to take place in the lounge. Spare mattresses have been drafted in and valium for me on order. She is of course hyped up where as I am less enthusiastic.

In a vain attempt to keep the evening as calm as possible, I came up with the insane idea of making it a girly night. I thought the idea of face packs, manicures and such like would be dismissed but instead it has been greeted with huge enthusiasm. If you’re struggling to feel the enthusiasm in my writing you’re not wrong. I struggle to get a face pack on my own face so over seeing a room full of leggy, excitable and giggly teenagers is not filling me with enthusiasm at the moment. Me and my bright ideas have a lot to answer for. I wish I had learnt the art of keeping my mouth shut.

Birthday cakes are also a bit un-cool so muggings here will be donning the chefs hate and producing fairy cakes by the ton load. These, if covered in icing with a months allowance of calories, are cool. Party food is also a no no apparently and the local pizza delivery service will be enlisted. At least I won’t be finding half eaten sandwiches behind sofas for days on end.

After the beauty bit, my usefulness will be over and I shall be no doubt banished to my room with the cat and the laptop. 14 years ago she was a helpless little bundle in my arms; today she is an independent teenager. She has learnt so much, changed so much and grown so much. It scares but excites me to think what her next 14 years will entail.

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It wasn’t so much mentally exhausting as the furthest my brain stretched was what colour van post man pat had. When I finally returned to fulltime work it was absolute heaven. Adult conversation, no lego between my toes and i considered it a positive joy to be sitting at a desk all day. The chores, of course didn’t go away they just got sandwiched into the few hours in the evening. But it’s amazing what resources you find in yourself when you need them. Because you have to be more organised, chores get done more logically and quickly. The banning of socks and any other hand sized item of clothing didn’t work though.

Somewhere along the years the physical side has disappeared. My waist and hips can back up this statement rather too well. But mentally we are off the radar. Preparing teenagers for adult hood is something you can never fully prepare yourself for. It’s a daunting task steering them into adult hood making sure they have all the right credentials when I myself is still figuring out the whole ‘I’m an adult’ thing.

The questions teenagers ask have to be answered carefully, they have hormones whizzing around so whatever I reply could be taken well or not so well. I am quickly learning a smile today doesn’t mean the same tomorrow. So now instead of steering them gently through playing nicely, sharing toys and not sticking carrots up their nose, its drugs, sex and alcohol. Though that should read ….the dangers of drugs, safe sex and alcohol awareness. Please don’t think I am having wild parties with my children, far from it.

There is life making and changing decisions like options and careers and advice on is it better to live to work or work to live. How on earth do I sound convincing when half the time I’ve not figured it out myself yet or do we ever actually get there.

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• The sun is shining less- the view out of the window is rather grey, I prefer sunnier views.
• The Maths homework the children are doing-You know it’s time to brush up your maths skills when you don’t understand their maths homework.
• The morning coat battle- Me -It’s raining wear a coat. Child “ Where am I supposed to put it, it won’t fit in my bag. . . ” Enough said.
• Being force-fed Christmas- Do we really need to start stocking up on mince pies and Christmas cake in September? If I buy them in now there is no way they will last till the end of the week, let alone 3 months. So I would have to buy some more….and on the circle goes till Christmas arrives and I cant face another mince pie and my waist band is stretched beyond its capacity.

But I’m liking…

• The first leaves falling from the trees- Although it marks the end of summer, I must admit I am an autumn and winter fan. Not to mention leaf scrunching. A past time every adult should indulge in to remember what child like fun is.
• The children walking to school- no more school runs for me. School is too close to drive and rather un-cool for me to walk with them.
• Seeing my children walk down the garden path after school-This can be rather a short lived liking though depending on their moods. And I do secretly know the smiles are not because they are pleased to see me but pleased to have finished another day at school.

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So we are ready for tomorrow. I say we rather warily as a brave face is part of it. After he has trundled down the road i am not sure how I feel. It’s a strange feeling when the youngest makes a milestone and there are no younger ones waiting in the wings to follow. I no longer feel like a single mum of young children but that of primary age children. It’s a big a step for me as a parent as it is for him.

When they were younger the hardest part was there shear energy that they had. It was never ending. Games, toys, outings, walk, you name it, and it was all done in wellies and at 100mph. Now its knowledgeable conversations, stroppy hormones, fears of options and careers. The last 11 years, from nappies to primary school, has gone so fast it scares me to think if that if I blink again he will be 22.

If you’re just starting out in your journey as a mum and scared how you’re going to cope, enjoy whatever bits you can. It’s going to go so quick.

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When my second child came along there was the how to get down the street in a safe and orderly manner task to conquer. Baby was easy to contend with. Wrapped up in pram he was safe as my pram driving skills would allow. But now my daughter was foot loose and fancy free. No pushchair for her anymore. I tried the reins approach which lasted all of one trip to town. She got tangled up, I got stressed and the reins were sent to the back of the cupboard. I soon learnt I couldn’t push a pram with one hand and hold her hand and keep us all safe.

The solution was to have a spying session on other mums, how did other mums do it? It materialised that some could indeed push a pram with one hand whilst others took the baby in sling, other child in pushchair approach. I tried this too. Now if you have experienced this you may understand where I come from when I say it makes you walk very unnaturally and not at all straight. After 9 months of a growing bump with growing backache, I was yearning to stand up straight. Having the baby in the sling was like being pregnant again, plus being summer baby got hot, I got hot, baby got hotter….you can see where I am going with this. Sling soon joined the reins at the back of the cupboard.

My only answer was to train my daughter to hold the side of the pram. Easier said than done, so I thought. I had images of something catching her eye and off she would go even if I had explained firmly and nicely that she needed to keep hold of the pram. Indeed this did happen, at the side of the road too. Did I handle the incident with decorum? No. Did I act calmly and explain in best sugar coated words the risk of being flattened by a passing car? Well no. I went into hysterics of the screaming you could have been killed kind. There were uncontrollable tears from me and a wobbly bottom lip from her. Solved the problem as she never let go of the pram every again.

This was my first taste of the differences in parenting styles. Tell them as it is verses sugar coated. Tell them as it is seems a bit harsh but is it the right thing? Or should it be more sugar coated. Life isn’t sugar coated though, awful things happen.

As my children are now a lot older sugar coated really doesn’t work, it doesn’t get over the importance of some things. They are about to enter the era of firsts. First offer of alcohol, first offer of a cigarette, first offer of a kiss…… I’ll stop there before I get myself wound up. With the first increasing the importance and danger increase too.

So how do you think children should be warned of dangers? What’s your parenting style? Sugar coated or tells them as it is?

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I was coping with the body deciding to give in to middle age spread. I guess it happens to us all but despite being the healthiest I have ever been, the belt on my jeans has had to go to the next notch up. They say that the youth is wasted on the young and that is very much true. Gone are the days of not caring what you ate or when you ate it. Now I watch what I eat, not excessively to the point I obsess over it, more along the lines of not too much red meat, never touch anything that’s fried and eat more salads and fresh veg then I probably ever did the whole of my life. I walk more, ok I am not at the point of going to the gym or anything else as reckless as actually hard lycra clad exercise, but I am gardening everyday and the school run has been known to be a school walk. This still gets brownie points with the exercise gods as the 1 mile route is one big hill. But where as I would drop a belt notch just watching someone exercise, now I am starting to have to consider further actual physical exercise of some sort, as if I didn’t have anything better to do. I will not be doing lycra though.

I was also coping with the odd brain dead moment too. I seem to have started losing all ability of being able to speak English, despite nearly 40 years of English babble happily falling out of my mouth on command. Take today; instead of saying what was in my head ‘I don’t have any change on me’ it came out as ‘I only have pound note’. For heaven’s sake they went out of circulation 26 years ago and yes it really was that long ago, I googled it. My children’s ages and current school year has always been a sticky remembering subject. I have to ask them every time I fill yet another school form in. So I assume the now forgetting their actual name is only to be expected. It also puts me into utter confusion now my daughter has 4 friends with names starting with A. Even I know I am starring gormlessly at the A named friend, desperately trying to remember which one they are.

So now that my brain and middle age spread are in cahoots and happening in unison, I declare it a conspiracy and I know I am dwelling far too much on my age at the moment. But it does hit home when your youngest is moving up to secondary school in September then add in the lovely statement that my daughter had great delight in announcing ‘this is your last few months being in your 30′s’.

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Yesterday morning I lugged the heavy shopping back from town. Not a usual occurrence for me but the weather couldn’t make up its mind what it’s going to do. The lovely sunny bbq I planned for the evening was cancelled when I woke up to rain. So off to the supermarket I went to get rain suitable food. No sooner as I have paid for it, lugged it home and packed it away and the sun comes out. Bbq back on, no food though for a bbq. Off to town, as bored with the supermarket, to get more supplies. Now the route back from town is a horrible climb up a long hill, add in heavy shopping bags you can imagine I was not best pleased when the rain started again. At that point I was getting quiet irate and this post was going to be more of a rant then it is but I have had the wind knocked out of my sails by my daughter.

I returned home to find the hoover upstairs, switched on and my daughter actually using it. Furthermore she had hovered downstairs first. I should be pleased, I should be proud of the kind considerate daughter I have raised. I am but I am more worried what it’s going to cost me as that much housework means she must want something

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So I accept this is all happening but what I am not prepared for or expected was the rollercoaster of ages it seems to be taking me, the so called adult, through with it. I mean I am supposed to be the one who can string two words together and walk in high heels and occasionally at the same time. So why am I swinging from old age to teenager at a moment’s notice? I have pangs of jealously at their younger fitter bodies. This was amplified when in a recent post clothes washing sort, I mixed up my daughter’s jeans with mine. She thought she had lost weight and skipped around the room and I was a crumpled heap on the floor trying to get into jeans that were no way going to budge above my thighs wondering how on earth I had put on so much weight over night.

My growing children don’t actually help matters either. They roll their eyes and mutter to me to grow up and then moments later complain that I am too old and just not with it.

I guess all there is to do, is to help and guide them through their ever changing hormones, hoping my hormones are adult enough to sort themselves out.

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I also guess that the articles are written in such a way that they are intending to wind the readers up as it gets response and comments on their articles. But the problem it is creating is if all they can write about is how bad single mums are and how all they do is scrounge off the government by not working and receiving benefits, it just continues to paint all single mums with the same brush. We are not all the same.

So for the record and any one searching for info about single mums to add to their articles about how awful single mums are…..

We don’t all wear designer jogging bottoms, hair extensions and false nails – though we may be known for doing the school run in pyjama bottoms but this purely down to time or rather a lack of it.

We don’t all think we are better off not working and better off raking in the benefits – yes there is a benefits system, yes a lot of us will claim these benefits but it’s not thousands as reported all the time. Majority of us work just like anyone else. There also many 2.4 families with both parents working that are also entitled to some benefits, it’s not just single mums who claim benefits.

Some single mums have lost their partners/husbands through tragic circumstances or through no fault of their own.

We are not just single mums. We are many other things too.

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It could be a result to my children hitting the teens, growing up and having social lives that they sort themselves. I no longer have to accompany them to children parties as these have made way to sleep over’s or trips with friends to the cinema, all without me. I get time to myself  which is a strange experience and taking a lot to get use to. I get to do the supermarket shop in peace though have very worryingly come home with not one but two gardening magazines today. Trips town are a solitary experience. They will if they have to, or want money, walk into town with me but as soon as we reach people I find myself talking to myself as my children vanish. I no longer have to watch endless episodes of the latest children programmes and then hum the silly tune all day as it gets stuck in my brain.  Where I use to get excited about an evening out, I now get close to hyperventilating at the thought of using a new rotary washing line.

They talk about empty nest syndrome that women commonly feel after their children have grown up and left the home so maybe I am experiencing pre-empty nest syndrome. I have had over 13 years of children, feeding them, encouraging them and helping them grow so I could be filling my life with seeds that need looking after to grow to compensate my children growing up. Life is slowly changing again as i shift into new situations and experiences and its slightly scary.

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Take this evening as a typical example with nothing major on the agenda, just tea and homework to work through. My daughter does her homework before I have even asked if she has any. A dream for most parents, but I don’t get away with it that easily. My son, on the other hand, is a nightmare. He forgets he has homework until 2 minutes before bed and that’s if he has remembered to bring it home. The mere phrase of ‘I have homework’ coming from him sends me into nervous twitches. My stomach tightens into knots as I check to see how well we did on the last homework. Yes I know it’s his homework but when a child is struggling we, as parents, have to step in at some point and explain things unless were quiet happy to have a wailing child complaining they can’t even add 2 and 2  in sobs of tears. Apparently this is common and boys nearly always struggle with homework whilst girls breeze through it. It doesn’t ease the nightly misery though. At the start of the homework I am fairly confident in adding 5 and 5 and how to spell this and that. ( quite literally ) by the end of the homework even I struggle to count unless I am using my fingers and spelling any word more than three letters is just brain suicide.

On the flip side evening meals, although another bone of contention, this time it’s my daughters turn to turn me into a nervous wreck. My son will eat anything and everything you place in front of him. No poking it with his fork and asking what it is with his nose turned up. No asking what animal is it or if it’s organic. My daughter requests a small amount before the serving spoon has touched it, as she pears at it like I have just served up the latest recipe incorporating arsenic. A knife is far too cool to use and just on the table for decoration, silly me. She then very kindly points out all the bits she doesn’t like, which I have decided is relative to the day of the week. Mushrooms seem to be ok on a Monday but by Friday they are just gross. If it’s not enough that it’s just me doing the shopping , dragging it back from the shop, putting it all away and not forgetting thinking up a new meal every night and cooking it, woe is me if I repeat a meal more than once in the same century. She wails she is so bored of it despite only having eaten the offending meal twice in her life.

Of course were not finished yet as we’ve not touched on the matter of the dishwasher. I grew up having to wash up the whole families dishes so I positively delight in just putting it all into a magic machine that washes it all for me. My children though take a dishwasher, of the mechanical variety, for granted. For them it seems very difficult to comprehend the process of putting their plate into the dishwasher without being asked every night.

These things are sent to try us I know and my only way of getting through these times is thinking up ways for revenge. I have one potential revenge situation on place which, if I am crafty enough, will see me through a few more months. My daughter is now is the ‘bra wearing’ stage and of course I have to buy them, which means she has to be in the shop with me. So if you see a fairly insane looking woman complete with red faced young teenager in tow, don’t laugh its revenge, I did mention the newly bought bra would be on my head didn’t I?

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When I was young it was installed into me on a daily bases that manners don’t cost anything but are priceless when used. It’s not just the please and thank yous in the right places but the courteous things too. Now it might be me just getting old and turning into my mother, but it is really starting to rial me. When children are very young we diligently taught them to say please and thank you and then looked on all proud when they manage to mutter it at the appropriate times to other people. But recent trips into town first made me angry and then stop and question if I have actually taught my children enough manners.

I feel the need to have my view and I will also be quizzing my teenager as to how she acts in these situations.

Younger drivers don’t realise when it isn’t their right of way and someone else is being kind and letting them through then it is generally a good thing to express some kind of thanks. I’m not expecting them to jump out the car and produce a bunch of flowers to say thank you but a small acknowledgment; even a small nod would be nice. Contrary to your belief you don’t own the whole road and when it is my right of way I am actually doing a nice thing for you.

Pavements have been designed to accommodate more than one person. Some boffins somewhere probably analysed this to death to come up with precise measurement they need to be to take two passing adults comfortably. If it is safe I have been known to step into the road so that passing teenagers don’t lose a vital piece of conversation but please do I have to do it every time or get glared at when I decide today isn’t the day I want to chance it with the passing lorry.

Shop assistants are there to assist, it may be earth shattering news and I don’t mean to tar every shop assistant with the same brush. I don’t expect personal shopper service but please do you have to look so bored to death even if you are.When I was young and a shop assistant I had the manager from hell, or so I thought. But she really was just teaching me something that isn’t taught today. She taught me not to interrupt, not to lean or slouch and to give the customer your attention not highlights from the previous night out. I have found it to be getting better but it I think this is because I am getting picky and won’t go into shops where the assistants are younger than me. Sadly this one is on a time limit for me; I am fast running out of shops.

Is it just me ? Am I just being old?

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Yesterday evening we realised we had forgotten to buy the advent calendars. Nothing new there for me. So off we went to the local supermarket to get advent calendars. Of course being the last to get them it was slim pickings. My son was happy to find a ‘Stars Wars’ one left but my daughter was faced with no advert calendar or resort to a ‘Night Garden’ advent calendar. Now any other young teenager would probably throw a hissy fit as the indignation of it. Mine though collapsed into giggles. Laughter is contagious and before long we all were laughing, at what I will probably never know, but we stood there laughing.

With advent calendars in hand we headed to the Christmas decorations as this year I appear to have a fixation with purple baubles. I want my tree this year to ooze sophistication and designer twee. So purple baubles it just has to be. We are hit by more giggles at the realisation that purple just isn’t to be had. Not giving up we check out the DIY shops. Now this sounds so silly I cant even believe I am putting the words down, the three of us still full of giggles played with every rocking Rudolph and chuckling Santa we could find. We dressed up in the tinsel and hung baubles off our ears. We just simply had fun. No expense spent no reason why but just enjoyed all being together laughing like loons amongst the tinsel and decorations. My daughter innocently summed it up with the words ‘the three musketeers in search of purple baubles’.

It’s those sort of moments that I couldn’t of planed or orchestrate that make me realise I love my life with my two giggling musketeers.

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If your reading this form outside the UK let quickly explain our system here. Basically all your working life just under a third of your wages is taken from your wage packet before it is even paid to you. It’s paid direct to the government for them to do with as they want. It’s apparently to pay for all the services we have. Police, fire brigade, pension to name a few, and to provide a National Health Service. Now this infamous NHS is there free when we need a hospital, a doctor and a dentist. But it’s not quite as simple as that. For example, if you go to the doctor and need a prescription most people still have to pay an additional fee for the actual medication.

This is just a brief roundup of the system as if I went into it in more detail I would never finish this post. But the thing that has wound me up the most is the availability of a dentist. In short, there aren’t any, unless you want to go private. Now this would better if you could write to some nice government person and explain you pay for your stuff privately and they give you a refund for the parts of the system you don’t use. Oh no, you can’t do that. So for the first time everI have written to two MP’s. They have welcoming websites that tell you that they are there for you to help you. They are supposedly accessible and care about you. Well below is the email I wrote and so far I have not heard anything back. Surprised? No. Fed up? Yes.

“Dear Mr MP – I am at the end of my tether and at a loss of how to explain this to my children. I have worked all my adult life, paying my contributions as I should and it is only now that I have found myself redundant. Not to be daunted by the situation I have taken the challenge to retrain and the New Year will hopefully bring a change of circumstances. I can cope with being a single mum and having to feed my 13 and 10 year old with just £20 a week. It’s not a hardship it’s merely a challenge to be overcome. What I do struggle with is trying to explain to my children why they have never been to the dentist or why one of their classmates who are from another country is able to have regular dentist treatment. Not that I hasn’t tried getting into a regular dentist in the last 9 years. I was brought up with the 6 monthly fear of the dentist trip. My two though have only seen a dentist in an emergency and then had to have teeth out. I too am unable to fix a broken front tooth as it’s not an emergency and I am not the sort to abuse the system, even if it’s failing. After 6 years of living with it I have resigned to the fact I will never probably get it fixed. It worried me at first but my self confidence in being able to smile went many years ago.

So please how do I explain to my children that despite them brushing their teeth every day they will probably grow up to have irreparable damage from not having regular checkups. I hope that things change and one day I will be able to go private as I think this will be our only option but in the meantime we have to just keep waiting on a waiting list that is never ending in the hope to see a dentist regularly.

If you have children you may be able to understand how hard it is to look at them knowing that something is effecting them now and will probably affect them into their adult life and there is nothing I can do about it, I am their mother but helpless. It’s not their fault I can’t afford private treatment, it’s not their fault there are no dentists but they are the ones that will pay for it in the long run.”

Since writing this post , I have since had a reply email from one of the MP’s. All it asked was if I had a contact phone number. No mention of anything else and so far no phone call.

Now this post may be a bit off subject but I’m a single mum and this has made me so angry I want to scream.

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The way we do it is that we let the children decide where they want to be. Now the choices are obviously here with me or at their fathers. I not being close to my family have never spent an adult Christmas with my parents ( and nor do I want to start thank you very much), he on the other hand has brothers and sisters who all have children and they all get together ‘Walton’ style for a massive Christmas day. Now in a kids mind the choice between two very different Christmases is easy worked out by where you’re more likely to have fun and get more presents. Yep you guessed it, with their father. So every Christmas morning off they go to have fun, laughter and presents to return 48 hours later.

Being the good unselfish mother I am, I manage to do a good act of pretending that I love spending Christmas day on my own. We do make more of a deal out of Christmas Eve and open half our presents in the evening and then a few Christmas morning before they go. The first few years were easy as loved the novelty of easting cheese on toast in my pyjamas and watching all the Christmas films. I would have glass of champagne and a bath with as many bubbles as I could fit in. The glass of champagne would turn into a bottle and then be in bed asleep by tea time. It was easy.

But then the novelty slowly died and the champagne too when I decided to go healthy and not drink alcohol. A couple of the years have been really tough and now it gets difficult as my daughter looks at me knowing that I will be spending Christmas on my own. She is torn to go with the family or stay with me, so for her sake, the actress in me is now on Oscar level. I’m going for all out this year and have my acceptance speech for my Oscar award all planned.

In my 8 years of single mum Christmases I can recommend the following:

• Although nice to have a drink, don’t drink too much if there is any hint it will make you sad. Slurring Merry Christmas sarcastically at the TV with bottle in hand really isn’t that sophisticated.
• Instead of the traditional Christmas dinner for one (Iceland and Tesco do them if you have your heart set on it) do something different. My favourite was salmon bagels followed by strawberries and cream. You will also be amazed how many people actually envy you.
• If you are eying up the sofa and remote control for the day, treat yourself to new pj’s .
• Take yourself out for a walk.  I would walk past houses and bet how many arguments I would spot. (Grass is not always greener and the picture card image of Christmas we presume everyone else is having sadly isn’t so).
• Lastly if you can manage it, buy yourself a pressie to put under the tree. I learnt this one several years in after realising I would not get a present any other way.

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So I am asking you, readers, how do you manage it? Are you organised and have been putting money aside each month throughout the year? (Oh how I envy those with such discipline and organisational skills) or is it a mad panic and belt tightening in the last month of two?

 Now i know Christmas is not sprung upon us as the shops have been gearing up to it for the past few weeks and funnily enough Christmas does happen every year. But it every year at about this time, i panic. I want my children to have a great Christmas and they know they won’t get everything on their lists but how on earth do you make one month’s money stretch across everything that won’t go away (electric, rent and simple things like eating) and manage to buy my own corner of the local toy shop at the same time? Just because I struggle all the time financially, doesn’t mean they have to feel it too at this time of year.

So readers, spill the beans on your Christmas buying. I might finally learn how to do it for next year.

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But what happens when you realise that your children aren’t as young as you think they are and they have wised up to the Santa thing. My oldest has known I’m Santa for awhile when she twigged that Santa’s handwriting on the gift tags was just like mums, not to mention that we must have bought wrapping paper at the same place.  She kept the secret for her younger brother’s sake and if anything it built a secret bond between us as we knew the truth but were united to keep the magic going for him.

Except this week I feel as though the magic has all gone as now even he admitted to knowing that Santa was actually me. I feel somewhat deflated by his announcement.  There has been no letters to Santa this year and even worse I can’t bribe them to be good. I feel as if I have learnt Santa isn’t real all over again and Christmas now has no magic at all.

Of course there is one other major downside to it all is that they were always rather reserved in their wish lists to Santa as he was a busy man who had to buy a lot of presents. Now it’s a different matter. I of course don’t have to buy presents for the whole world nor apparently am I that busy. Instead of the sweet, best handwritten letters with pictures of dolls and cars that Santa was treated to, I get a list. A long list at that, complete with what shop to find each item, the prices and in preference order. Funnily enough though, the most expensive items at the top.  

So my magic of Christmas has truly been stolen by my wised up and growing up fast children. Another thing they don’t warn you of when you first become a parent.

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So I think the key is to believe in yourself and magic happen.

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My children listened open mouthed as I explained about the different sweets and cartoon characters I had grown up with, not to mention vinyl instead of CD’s etc. But it totally knocked them when I explained there were no mobile phones and even some people didn’t have normal house hold phones.

“How did you arrange to meet up in the holidays?” my daughter asked who is of the age she is permanently texting to arrange this and that. Imagine her shock when I explained it was either pre-arranged or you called by their house. The news that I would write to my friends was just completely jaw dropping. Their reactions intrigued me so I pursued the conversation telling them how modern life actually is now. The invention of dishwashers and tumble dryers all being in my living memory. How their Nan brought me up with no washing machine or microwave and the days when we had no TV.

Now I know life progresses and things improve but have we actually improved our lives? My mother at my age was twice as fit as I am with all the annual housework. I, in comparison, use all the costly labour saving devices then pay to go to the gym. Or how I buy all the conveyance foods and supermarket junk complete with the over the top packaging etc only to try afterwards to coax some good food like fruit into them. Wouldn’t it make more sense to go back to basics and cook it all myself knowing that it has all the good things in it and cutting out the weekly fruit and supermarket battle?

Are we really moving forward or just making more work for ourselves.

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This may seem cruel, but the whole point of paid for play is that I get let off the responsibility of being an endless source of entertainment. Parenting generally is exhausting. Parenting alone is relentless and it is crucial to give yourself time out now and again.

Of course it does seem slightly perverse to pay to spend the afternoon indoors on what has turned out to be one of the sunniest days this month, but I comfort myself with the fact that I am actually protecting us both from harmful UV rays. I have never been the kind of mum to remember sun lotion, so this is the next best thing.

Sure we could have romped through woods looking for animal tracks or other such wholesome activities, but then it’s difficult to read the papers when you are attempting to bluff your way in tree identification. You can try the park, but the chances are at our local that you’ll have to contend with a steady stream of bored teenagers swearing and hogging all the best stuff. Plus at the park there is no escape from the plaintive cries of ‘mummy can you push me on the swings?

At our indoor soft play centre my energetic seven year old is guaranteed to find a friend and I am off the hook. After ten minutes she is already holding hands with one of the big girls and I am a good way through The Times. I have brought with me a selection of papers, magazines and books“ the second rule of soft play is to be prepared “ and I work my way happily through them, easily blocking out the screams of toddlers and the flashing of the muted flat screen TVs that line the walls.

Soft play is basically low cost childcare. For a paltry £14 a month I can have unlimited access  all I need to do is repeat this afternoon’s session a few times a week and I looking at an hourly rate of about 27p. Bargain. Sure, i’s no Montessori, but my daughter has a great time and after a few hours with my head in a book I feel refreshed and ready to climb back on the never ending merry go round of single parenthood.

Kindly written by Jo Middleton.

Jo lives in Somerset and is a freelance journalist and single mother of two daughters. You can find out more about her work at www.jomiddleton.co.uk

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Often after a divorce, people will look back and say they wished they had tried harder. Divorce isn’t an easy option and you should be really sure as possible before going down this route. It can be costly not just in money terms but emotionally too. If possible try couples counselling. Talking to a third impartial party can help and then after counselling you decide you do want a divorce then at least you know you have tried everything possible to save your marriage.

If I sought legal advice would my husband find out?

Just because you have talked to a solicitor it doesn’t mean you have started a divorce. You can find out from your solicitor your rights and if your marriage gets back on track then at least you haven’t lost anything. Your meeting will be treated in confidence so unless you tell your husband then no he wouldn’t find out.

Would a trial separation work?

Everyone is different. What works for some, doesn’t work for others. The time apart may be what you need or it may confirm to you that a divorce is what you want.

Friends and family are telling me to leave him.

As well meaning as friends and family are at giving advice don’t let them railroad you into a decision. They are not in your marriage and are making judgements from outside and without all the facts. It’s a very personal decision that only you can make.

Though we are splitting up, neither of us want to move out during the divorce.

Financial constraints may mean you can’t move out and neither of you have to. But emotionally it might be better to live separately. Even if you are the one initiating the divorce, you don’t have to be the one who has to leave. It’s probably best and more stable for the children for them to stay in their home if possible. Think before you do anything and seek professional advice.

If I leave would I lose any rights I have to my house?Â

No. If the house is in both names or solely in your name then legally you don’t lose any rights at all. It is though in practise easier to keep control of the legal process if you are still in the house. Talk to your lawyer before you act.

I think my husband is going to react badly when I tell him I’m leaving him.

If you think he may react badly then consider having a mutual friend or family member with you when you tell him, they might be able to calm him down and are there for your safety too.

What do I tell everyone?

You tell them as little or as much as you want. There is no need to be ashamed and might even be a relief to stop pretending everything is fine. You’re not the first nor will you be the last person to go through a divorce so you will probably find a lot of support and sympathy.

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The key, I found, was to stop panicking that I couldn’t do it. So my first bit of advice is to stop and breathe for a moment. You’re not the first in this situation and you won’t be the last single mum on this planet. You of course are by no means the only single mum wondering how you are going to cope. Calm yourself and your fears of raising unsociable, odd socked and misfit children. You’re using up energy worrying about it ( and maybe even making yourself ill) that could be put to better, more positive  use. Every once in a while, try to treat yourself to something simple- whether it be a girls night out with friends, that outfit you’ve been eyeing, or even getting yourself some flowers. A little refresher can create a better outlook on your situation.

The first thing I did was to write a list of what was important to me or worrying me. So write a list. Sometimes just the act of writing it down can put things into perspective. Everyone’s list will be different and there is no right or wrong things to put on the list. If it’s important to you and you don’t think you’re coping with it then put it on the list. (Don’t say all of it- be more specific). It can be simple small things that seem huge right now. It can be huge things that you might have to get outside advice for. You would laugh if you read my list. I even had the small unimportant thing of not letting my children ever go out the door in odd socks. Sounds silly to me now but for me at the time it was important.

After prioritising your list, don’t look at it as a list of failures but a list of challenges to be overcome. Tackle each item one by one. Some things will just need a bit or advanced organising (like my odd sock thing) to other things you might need to seek advice for.   When you start ticking things off it should hopefully all become easier.

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• Be as honest and open as possible
• Be calm and optimistic about the future
• Say that you are upset/angry/anxious but don’t get over emotional
• Reassure then that you both love them
• Reassure them that they will still see you both
• Reassure them that it wasn’t their fault
• Be prepared with details of what going to happen
• Be prepared to answer their questions
• Let them know that they can talk to either of you about the situation at any time
• Make your talk age appropriate
• Don’t blame or criticise each other
• Don’t make promises you can’t keep
• Don’t tell them to keep it a secret
• Don’t go into unnecessary details of your relationship

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 Stop putting yourself down- have a think about how you talk about yourself. Do you arrive somewhere and then dismiss your self by saying ‘only me’? Or do you refer to yourself as being not particularly clever by saying ‘I’m not very good at this’ when someone comments on something you have done? These negative thoughts and actually saying them have a gradual effect and will eat away at your confidence even more. Get rid of them from your vocabulary.

 Don’t compare yourself – there are always the mums at the school gates who look immaculate, have perfectly behaved kids and look like they have the full eight hours sleep. Or the people you pass in the supermarket that just oozes contentment and confidence. Or the sickingly loved up couple at the next table. But you don’t really know what’s going on in their heads or their lives. They might be very good at covering up the less than perfect bits or on there very best behaviour and secretly envy you. Ultimately comparing yourself with others is pointless. Concentrate on your own journey.

 Reframe your thoughts – instead of negative talk change it to positive talk. Stop the ‘I can’t’ or ‘I won’t’ and use ‘I choose to’ instead.

 Picture what you want instead of what you don’t want – I bet you can list a hundred things you don’t want. You don’t want to be lonely; you don’t want to grow old on my own etc etc. But if you are asked what you do want I bet you’re a bit hazier on what you’re am aiming for.

 Set small and realistic goals – given a huge challenge or change then most of us will retreat, close up and think of ourselves as failures. But if you make these things smaller and more realistic then it’s easier achieved and you feel more successful as you achieve them.

 Be patient – nothing of any value is achieved overnight. If it is then it’s false.

 Don’t give up – life will always throw obstacles in your way. The difference between those who make it and the ones that fall by the wayside is that the ones who make it look for a way around the problem or just try again.

 Accept yourself as you are – confidence doesn’t mean perfect. So accepting your self just as your are complete with the less desirable bits.

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It’s not due to a lack of partners being available in comparison to when we were younger. If you think about it, divorce rate is currently 1 in 3 marriages. So for every six people, 2 of them are potentially single. So the maths to me indicates it’s not a lack of supply.

There is the obvious bit that you have to be out there. I don’t mean literally loitering on street corners. But actually in a healthy frame of mind to accept someone new into your life and also either out in some sort of social scene (the supermarket does count) or tackling online dating. Â

Sadly there is the social stigma that comes with being a single parent, which is we are desperate and will gladly accept any offer that is thrown at us. Throw into the mix that we supposed be grateful that this other person took on our complete package, and it is no wonder single parents get targeted by the wrongens in this world.

The truth is that most of us aren’t desperate and any old partner won’t actually do. We are older and wiser than we dated in our teens or twenties when our wish list was severely lacking in quality. Now we have a better idea of what we want or don’t want. We have a life, all be it revolving around school runs and homework. We have views and opinions that are based on life not just what the media forces on us. And as for being grateful they took on the whole package? (This one makes me fume) it is a considerable honour to be allowed into my family unit and be part of our lives.

So maybe its not that we cant find a suitable man because we are single parents, it’s because we have more respect for ourselves than our teenage years and we wont waste our time on any old partner.

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I won’t name names as I can’t but I don’t believe your parents actually named you smoochy and kissims, but it appears this is what you go buy. Now I know it’s all very lovely and cute to go shopping together but could please refrain from shopping on a Thursday night again please. Thursday night is my only kid free night. Instead of ‘living it up’ or lingering over some man I use this opportunity to get shopping done with out constant sweets requests. If this request is out of the question then please bear in mind the following. Trust me it will save you from fate worse then shopping trolley aisle rage.

I have no objection to you buying pizza but in future please choose your toppings pre shop. Having to endure your squeals of delight as you discover you both like the same is somewhat irritating to say the least. Cheese and tomatoes is quiet commonly liked you know.

It would also be helpful if you could have the corrective surgery to un-join you at the hips. I am confident in saying a lot of scientific research went into designing the width of the aisles and trolleys. I do believe that the aisle does fit two trolleys side by side but the space equation is hindered when two people push the same trolley together. You might also like to know that the trolleys do safely go at faster speed then dawdle.

Next time you are overcome with a moment of drooling over each other, please pick a more appropriate aisle. The pick and mix aisle does contain un-bagged sweets and children.

Lastly, I appreciate you are both very much in love and have the desire to prove this point at every aisle but there are actually people in there on a mission. To get enough food for a week, on a budget meant for one person for two days, quickly, to feed bottomless pits that never fill up and all in quick time.

Now to totally contradict myself please enjoy this stage of your relationship as it wont be like this forever.

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So to be on your own you need to like yourself and be comfortable with yourself. And to be with someone you have to be able to like yourself and be comfortable with yourself.

Will be interested in what all your thoughts are on this. Let me know

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There is the childless couple – They happily borrow my children when they want to go to see a kid’s film or do something you can’t get away with unless you have kids in toe. They always come up trumps at Christmas and love to join in my children’s Christmas activities.

The Builder – The male friend who can do builder type things and gladly drops tools off and offers advice on such things. Can also be counted on for platonic nights out and strategically vanishes to the side lines if I get chatted up.

The Car Boffin – I must admit to gathering a few of these sorts of friends as anything under the bonnet of a car is way beyond me.

The Nerd – Even though I know my way around a computer and the internet it is always valuable to know a nerd. They might not set the world on fire but they know their data.

The Feminine Male – You think he should be gay but he isn’t. He is so in touch with his feminine side it makes me feel butch sometimes. Can be relied on for countless talk and advice and thinks everyone and everything is lovely.

The Therapist – Any therapist of any sorts is helpful to have on hand. Free counselling over a drink is the best way to get your mind sorted. Also a brilliant stand in for ‘partners included’ get togethers .

The Intellectual – Although thought of as boring on first sighting, his wealth of knowledge is mind blowing. Not the ideal dinner guest so mainly used as a reference tool.

The Flirt – Useful for bringing a flirtatious smile to the day. But kept firmly at arms length and would no way go there. (Shudders at thought)

Now if I could wrap that little lot into one man I would be sorted.

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HUMAN BODY STATISTICS

• Food takes 7 minutes to go from the mouth to the stomach.
• A human hair can support a weight of 3 Kg.
• The penis of the average man is three times bigger than his thumb.
• The hip-bone is more solid than cement.
• A woman’s heart beats faster than a man’s.
• There are around one million bacteria on each of your feet.
• Women blink twice as often as men.
• A person’s skin weighs twice as much as his brain.
• Your body uses 300 muscles just to keep you in equilibrium while standing.
• If your saliva can’t dissolve a piece of food, you can’t taste it.
• If you are a women, you have finished reading this message.
• If you are a man, you are still measuring your thumb.

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So I am challenging you to find your cloud 9 and do what ever it is for ten minutes every day. Yes ten minutes everyday. Don’t try the ”I’m too busy” line as I am one of those too busy for everything sort of people and I know if I do one less email or forget the dusting for one day I can find a spare ten minutes if I try really hard. Finding these precious ten minutes and having a cloud 9 moments makes a massive positive difference to the rest of the day. Not sure what your cloud 9 moments is then here are some ideas

Reading a book – many of us read a book just before we fall asleep. Then the next night you end up having to read half of the bit you read the previous night as you were far too sleepy to read properly. Ten minutes in the middle of the day will feel just slightly a bit naughty and make you smile

Paint – doesn’t matter if it’s on paper or on the walls. If it’s your passion then get the paint brushes out

Call your best friend – not to arrange school runs or boring stuff but to have a good old girly chat and giggle

Walk – Even if it’s to get milk via a more scenic route it still counts

Sing and Dance – Get the music on, turn up the radio, sing and dance around the house

Write – Is there a novel hiding in you or a diary you have written since childhood? Or maybe a letter to a friend

Meditate – ten minutes of meditation in which ever way you like

Sit down with a perfect coffee and just silence – this is one of my cloud 9s. In a house that always has noise of some sort going on, silence is very precious and just bliss.’, ‘

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N.B – that’s of course if your daughter is of the trendy variety. I am told there are a few out there who do know how to dress. I have not found an example of this rare breed yet.

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THE NEXT SURVIVOR SERIES

Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids each for six weeks.

Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.
There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, and complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of ‘pretend’ bills with not enough money.

In addition, each man will have to budget in money
for groceries each week.

Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time–no emailing.

Each man must also take each child to a doctor’s appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment.

He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the A & E.

He must also make biscuits or cakes for a social function.

Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.

The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.

The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn himself with jewellery, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished and eyebrows groomed.

During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.

They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.
They will need to read a book to the kids each night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair by 8:00 am.

A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child’s birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor’s name.

Also the child’s weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labour, each child’s favourite colour, middle name, favourite snack, favourite song, favourite drink, favourite toy, biggest fear and what they want to be when they grow up.

The kids vote them off the island based on performance. The last man wins only if..he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment’s notice.

If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years eventually earning the right
To be called Mum!

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