My social experiment.

Mr Tall is inspiring.

He has travelled solo all over the world, seen most major landmarks, climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, helped the poor in Uganda, plus taken on a single mother with two children.

*phew*

I love when we are watching TV and he points out 'been there' and 'done that'. He really does has the travel spirit and like anyone who is passionate about something, it is amazing to hear.

I, however, married young and settled down with kids. I sometimes wonder what my life may have been like if I had travelled down a different road. I am positive that everyone has wistful moments like these. 'What ifs' can be someones daily torture. Time to make a change.

I opted for an evening in the company of yours truly. It first involved a shopping trip taken straight after work. Now, my perception of shopping changed after having my children. No longer can I peruse the aisles and loiter in the changing rooms debating on colour and style. It has become a military exercise on how quick we can enter and leave the shop without a holocaust. Yes, there was a time when I adored shopping.

I meandered along, taking full advantage of the late night shopping facilities. Oh, and the joy of NO KIDS. Mine or others. It was bliss. Only inept store assistants, whose lack of knowledge on pop 80's icons was inexcusable. (WHO is Debbie Harry? COME ON!)

My next test. Can I eat alone at a restaurant? It has been done before by many but not I. I was greeted by the waitress and positioned at a table in the middle of the restaurant. I felt slightly exposed but as it was a social experiment, I decided to go with my unease and sat down.

The staff all seemed very attentive. I suppose when you are on your own, it is merely to sit, eat and leave. With others, it is more a social occasion and one not to feel flustered to order, eat and leave within a particular time limit.

Yes, I did Twitter at the restaurant. Whilst liberating, it was lonely. No one to talk to or try new things with. The sharing experience of eating with others is something I love.

The evening came to an end quite soon after. Well, I was tired and I missed Mr Tall. Absence makes the heart fonder. I do believe that if you spend every living, breathing moment with someone, you stop having anything to talk about. Everyone needs their own space because you appreciate the moments you ARE with them. Be it partners/children or even mother-in-laws.

Pensieve, please.

I have so much swimming around in my head today.

Ok, a little reminising. Only looking back to see how far I have travelled.
It has been a year since I left the worst job ever.

I worked for a friend (no longer) in her nursery. It was one of the biggest mistakes I could have made. Totally demoralised and bullied. I managed to navigate my childhood and teenage years as the fat kid without this and here I was, a single mum of two at 30 years of age, being bullied by a peer. In fact, being so obviously bullied that all other workers cringed.

I still cannot think about this time without a complete sense of injustice. My voice was not heard and it was at a time where it tested my sense of value and self worth to the very limit. Somedays, even beyond. I cannot begin to imagine how any child who goes through this can remain unscathed. They pushed me before I jumped and did it in such a way, no action could be taken. It still makes me seethe. Need to work on that I guess.

Why do people act in this way? Why do they have a need and drive to make another feel inferior?

Bad mother syndrome

Am I the only mother who gazes adoringly at her children only when they are asleep? Sure, they make me laugh at their antics but for the most part, my children can be irritating.

Yes, I am a baaaaaad mummy for admitting this.

Let me explain.

When we are in our local supermarket and they announce they need a wee or a poo. Not, 'excuse me mother (in a voice barely audiable) could you escort me to the public lavatories at your convinience?' No. It is tannoy volume in the busiest, furthest away aisle in the most colourful and graphic description. Nice.

Am I the only mother who HAS to entice their two year old to do ANYTHING (get dressed/walk/keep shoes on etc) with the promise of biscuits or cake? I even dangled a sweet in front of Mogwai to get her to walk faster than a sloth up the stairs.

Don't misunderstand me. I LOVE my children. They are my life. That is probably my point. They ARE my life. Any decision, however big or small, must take them into condideration. Without them, I am lost.

I must remind myself I am in the Summer of my life. The Autumn will come later(hopefully)and then I can harvest the fruits of my labour.

Parenthood teaches you about the ultimate sacrifice. Yourself.

Kids and weekends.

Early start today. Kids have no concept of weekend time. Mummy will be in a cross mood if I wake her at stupid o'clock by shouting and bouncing on bed. Ah, what the hell!

I can remember waaaay back when I was small sneaking into the sitting room early on a Saturday morning to watch TV. No CBeebies or DVD's OR even a video recorder. Just cartoons, when you see 'em and then they were gone. DOUBLE BILL! DOUBLE BILL! TOM AND JERRY!

I need a holiday.

My life so far.......

So. Here I am, writing my first 'blog'.



What to write? I guess I should start by explaining my journey so far. I'll skip bits that are irrelevant or too gory. Eek.



Youngest of two. My older sister is fabulous and ALWAYS thinner than me, damit! One day her metabolism will catch up and BOOM! Ah, can only hope. No kids apart from the ones she teaches. Lives in London in a stylish and neat apartment. See? Fabulous. She was my first friend and shares my soundbank. Even our parents cannot tell the difference on the phone.



I was the rebel. Funny, fat kid at school who made 'em laugh so that they wouldn't pick on me. Constantly sent out of class and skipping classes to smoke at the end of the field. Or to go to the beach. I mean, honestly, who builds a school right next to the beach. Begging for truancy. I left school with flying colours. Much to the astonishment of many teachers. And myself.



Fast forward a couple of years. Rebelling against my strict, Spanish and devout catholic parents was my favourite past-time. They liked me to have long hair, but in a moment of rebellion, I had it cut short. (Natalie Imbruglia style. Short, fat and basically looked like a man) I was not the Stepford child as they may have wished for. A normal teenager then.



Next bit are the rollercoaster years. Left home to move in with 'my one true love' at 22. Pregnant by the end of the year. Married a few months later (I had a very large bouquet and father, large shotgun) and a month later I had my boy who we shall call Mowgli. More of that another time.



Fast forward 5 years and whilst pregnant with our 2nd child, (we shall call her Mogwai) husband decides to leave. It was the 'I love you but not IN love with you' script. Reality was, he had fallen for a colleague. The bottom fell out of my world. More of THAT another time.



Fast forward 2 years and here I am. A survivor who has been through the storms to find the sunshine. Some days it rains. It used to remind me of the storms of yesteryear. Now it just reminds me of how far I have travelled and how I am stronger than I ever could have imagined.



Ok. Back to real time. Today.



Today was a constant cajouling exercise. Please put your shoes on/back on/no don't climb on the table/don't pull your brother's hair/one more mouthful and then pudding-come on/let mummy just have a quick shower...... Ok. Do you need a wee? Oh, you already have. No don't take off your...have you done a poo too? On the floor? Oh Mogwai! Naughty girl. *sob* No, I have just made my bed and I have cream sheets. OUT OUT OUT!! They don't call it the terrible two's for nothing.



More wine anyone? *hic*