Motherhood - questions answered

 I was tagged, by Sarah to answer questions on motherhood in a meme.

Despite all my whining, I genuinely like children, and always have. Not just mine, or my relatives'.  I like naughty children and cheeky children too, which is a good job.

My boys are; Liam - nearly 13,  Ricky - 4, and Sonny - 3


Describe Motherhood in three words


A beautiful nightmare

Does your experience differ from your mother's? How?


Yes, quite a lot. My parent's first child, a daughter, drowned when she was 2. Mum was pregnant with me at the time.
My mum was a bit older, had no family around to help, and didn't have many places to go and meet other mothers.
Motherhood seems to bring the same major highs and lows, no matter who you are.


What's the hardest thing about being a mum?


You don't ever know if you're doing it right


What's the best thing?


When they go  to bed full-bellied, smiling, clean, and say "goodnight mum, see you in the morning" -  that's when I feel deeply content


How has it changed you?


I went from being an irresponsible lager lout who spent all her wages on clothes and booze, to a   21 year old mum in an awful relationship all within a year. The steepest learning curve imaginable. You realise what you were capable of all along, it's a progression, you grow and change all the time anyway


What do you hope for your children?


That they continue to be so enthusiastic about the world


What do you fear for them?


Illness, addiction, heartbreak, rejection, vile in-laws, obesity, depression, continued global financial crisis....it goes on forever

What makes it all worthwhile?

This

Please join in, if you want to, of course....

Am I OK?

Hello! I'm fresh from a weekend away which involved sleeping off an anti-histamine induced coma, leading to my eyes looking as though they were welded together (with what resembled a finished bowl of cornflakes left to harden all day - the joys of conjunctivitis).

My poorly eye

I also fitted in an afternoon car boot sale ('ow much for the shampoo luv? "I wanna quid forrit, only used it a couple'a times see") and a walk by the seaside "mummy, this is BORING, I want to go to the fair and the 'musements, walking is RUBBISH!.

So, the weekend is over now, nearly.
I'm finishing off the wine I opened Saturday, but was too sleepy to drink. It's acidic beyond belief, and playing havoc with my palate, which is peppered with blisters from being too impatient to wait for my curry to cool down the other night. Waste not, want not,

The children have another week off,  our Easter break seems to have started a week later than England's schools. This week, I shall be shouting, sighing a lot, telling my three boys and my 9 month old niece (who listens the best) that I "haven't sat down since 6.30 am" and peeling potatoes, I always seem to be peeling potatoes.

I will continue to dream about having a house with an Aga and flagstone tiling. I will continue to pretend I'm living inside a film set, the film is about a nondescript mum of three who finds herself living a very exciting life rescuing orphans Princess Diana style, by smiling at them with my head to one side, I'll be dressed in a white shirt and jeans to look normal, but really, the outfit costs thousands.

I will give Liam £2 in the hope he entertains himself with it all day and won't require any further attention. I will suggest we all make cakes, then regret it. All they want to do is crush an egg with one hand and then eat the raw mixture (it's mine, all mine!). I will make small talk with my neighbour, it seems a fitting thing to do, she's only 4'9".

I will do loads and loads of washing, and hope it's a nice drying day. I will watch the seagulls circle the sky, hungry for the chicken carcasses from Sunday's roasts. I will tell Saj (I love how Raj has been replaced by  Saj at the corner shop) that I have 3 kids, not 4. The baby is my niece. He may or may not ask me if my jacket is 'forrin' - "your clothes are forrin, no? I not seen anything like them before".

I will fill the sink with hot soapy water and leave endless dishes 'to soak'.
I will let Ricky watch Fireman Sam, briefly, before the awful 'Welsh' accents drive me to despair.
 I will check for texts and emails, tutting as I realise the emails are from the bank and texts are telling me how much compensation I might get for "the accident you had". What 'accident'? I've always looked like this (boom boom!).

I will sigh some more, I will feel useless. I will have a good long think  and maybe even make an appointment to see the doctor.

I had my hair cut Friday (it's been years).
It was the first time I'd met the hairdresser, she's also an Optician! I ended up telling her a lot about my life, she emphasized. She said I seemed really down, and really confused. Suggested I may be properly depressed, not just 'fed up' as I've been telling everyone for ages. Recommended a brand of Antidepressants.
I'm not sure.
I'm sure I feel sad too much, I'm unable to make decisions because I worry incessantly about potential bad outcomes, I'm easily distracted, a little noise and light sensitive at times. Obsessive about doing things 'right' (even little thing like recycling) or I beat myself up for ages about it. I'm either eating all the time, or dieting and exercising like a lunatic.

I hide my feelings well, I vent here, but in 'real life' I'm not such a misery, honestly.
Am I depressed, or just human and need to accept that, and GET OVER IT? Will the Doctor decide or do I have to decide?


Sh*t, now I'm in a panic thinking that readers will be saying "she's after praise and attention all the time" (what with my last post being about appearance).I'm also in a panic thinking you may think I just said that to feel better. Or, that you think I'm a right freak who needs to get over herself. Those thoughts are fleeting, not  tinged with all-consuming paranoia at all...I am OK. I'm always OK.

Anyhow, I decided against buying this:

Are you OK?

Does my self-esteem look big in this?

I bought two late 1970's Diana annuals from a charity shop yesterday. I can't resist them, it must be the lure of double-entendre laden stories, the photographs of legends such as Gary Glitter and Alvin Stardust, and the excellent advice on how to make the most of yourself.

Romance, make-up tips, pop music and basic home-economics, all in one easy to read book with the odd quiz and crossword - a tried and tested formula to entertain teen and pre-teen girls for generations.
One article made me smile, it offered advice on staying fit and making yourself look attractive based on whether you live in a city or in the country. I'm guessing you city girls take the bus or get Dad to drop you off at school? Trouble is, not walking enough will make you unfit and won't keep you trim.


If you live in a remote village though, "such as the Orkneys" you may really be up against it when it comes to hair care. There's also an assumption that living in such a place will mean your parents don't allow you to wear eye make-up (but who needs mascara when there's Vaseline?).


Findings of a study recently conducted by Girlguiding UK were recently published. 1,100 girls aged between 7 and 21 were asked questions relating to issues such as weight, body-image, plastic surgery, marriage, the environment and education. None of the 'worrying' findings surprise me (click the link to see survey results).

I don't blame the media, men, mothers, or anyone/thing else for the lack of body confidence and general positive self-esteem in today's young woman. It's just nature, surely? Men are programmed to look for a mate who will make good breeding material, and vice versa. Child-bearing hips, boobs suitable for feeding a baby, healthy hair and skin, and knows how to cook a chicken? Perfect.
I just don't know where this notion of  ideally being THIN comes from. Thin means malnourished, possibly infertile and weak, or does it? Do men like 'thin' women? Maybe some men do because it makes them feel stronger, protective or paternal.

What is the ideal body shape? Tall, slim with big boobs, tiny waist, rounded bum, slim legs and nice feet (models always have huge feet!)? Do you know anybody this shape? I'm not even sure being tall is desirable, sweet little girlie type celebrities often end up being in the top 5 'world's sexiest/most beautiful women' category.


I know I've never felt 'right'. I see myself as clumsy, heavy on my feet, fat-bellied, awkward, ungainly and unkempt. I could do something about all of these things, and have tried in the past. My weight always goes back up, periods of grooming myself well don't last, and any attempts to behave more ladylike go out of the window after a large glass of wine/pint of beer. I pretty much turn into my father; become one of the lads.

Personality counts for a lot with both sexes, I just don't think you believe this as a female when you're young. It's competitive, a hormone-fuelled battle to win the top prize (the 'top prize in my fourth year at high school turned out to be gay). You don't work on your jokes, on your finer understanding of the rules of sport, on your slow-cooked leg of lamb with a redcurrant reduction, you just obsess about your face and body. You realise your face and body were OK when it's too late (despite warnings from your mother and other females). Someone can say "you look nice" 100 times, but if you don't feel it, there's no way it will sink in. Someone can tell say "you look fat" just once, and that's it. You will forever feel fat and unattractive.

Women try to look younger, slimmer, prettier and always have, we always will. That's not a bad thing. The bad thing is thinking that the path to happiness lies in 'becoming' something or someone. I think I'll always struggle with that stupid cycle of diet-weight-gain-diet-self-doubt, self-hate and unrealistic self-imposed standards of being a good 'woman'.  If it means trying your best though, I'm definitely doing that, just not all the time!

Food, glorious food

Yesterday evening, I watched several episodes of Human Planet. I wish I'd watched it first time around on BBC, because there were commercial breaks every 15 minutes on the channel.
It was almost surreal, watching people put their lives at risk to find food, then sitting on the  ground to eat it - cut to advertisements for chocolate cream cheese spread and oversized sofas.

Easter has become much more like Christmas, the supermarkets are plugging the ideal family get together for a gigantic roast dinner - "our three bird roast with ready made gravy, washed down with fizzy wine, followed by a cheesecake will be perfect" (a side of  Pepto Bismol advisable).
Back to the programme, and some Inuits are in a handmade kayak trying to throw poisoned spears at a Narwhal (their skin, ounce for ounce, contains as much vitamin C as an orange, apparently).

On the Ethiopian desert, it's the Hamar women who have the desired navigational skills to trek for 12 hours to get water from the well. That is something I really cannot imagine. I get lost wherever I go, I get lost on the way back from the toilets at a pub, I have THE worst sense of direction imaginable. Navigating a vast expanse of sand? - unthinkable."After the 7th sand dune ridge there's a bush - turn left there" amazing.
Turn the tap on, fill a glass.
"I don't like the taste of water" I have heard countless children and adults say that - the ultimate first world problem.

In my kitchen cupboards, I have 1kg of rice, 4 different bags of flour, 8 tins of chopped tomatoes, vanilla extract, enough porridge oats to feed us all for a month, turmeric, cumin, Asefotida, chilli powder, garam masala, paprika, peppercorns, balsamic vinegar, soy sauce, Worcester sauce, olive oil....the list goes on.

Yet, do we really have it so easy? Since giving up work to look after the children, we've slipped further and further into debt. Rob leaves the house just after 7am,  gets home at 6pm. In the winter, he doesn't see daylight because his office has no windows. Our monthly shopping bill is more than our mortgage, and that's with me cooking nearly everything from scratch and buying cheaper cuts of meat for stews and casseroles. The supermarket is full of food from every corner of the planet, most of it ends up being processed and laden with salt and or sugar. The packaging ensures a weekly shop fills a huge metal trolley, but if the food was stripped down to it's actual value, in protein, vitamins, minerals, fibre and so forth, it would probably only fill a kitchen sink.

I know you can have organic meat and vegetable boxes delivered, grow your own, you can shop daily  for locally produced food. A friend of mine makes her own washing powder, maybe I should try that. I have gone through phases of avoiding the supermarket, but inevitably there will be something I need to buy in bulk in order to 'save money' (though I don't ever feel I'm saving money).

Toilet rolls, we roll out between 4 and 5 per week in this house. I don't buy kitchen roll, I got sick of buying things which go straight in the bin after use. You know what? Kitchen roll is not a kitchen essential. I chop up old white towels and use them instead - washable, rinse-able and can be re-used for years. Liquid hand soap is another very wasteful product, all that plastic.
Still, we spend far too much money on grocery and non-grocery items for this house.

I suppose my point is, no matter how much man has progressed in the last few thousand years, his day is still taken up with a gruelling 'hunt' for food.
When you've had to wait for the tide to go out under a few metres of ice to quickly source fresh mussels (they had half an hour to dig and collect) and that only happens for a brief period during one season,  surely, those mussels will taste much better than that stale tuna sandwich you had half an hour to pop to the Co-Op for during your lunch break?

Nobody had rotten teeth on these programmes, nobody was obese. I'm not going to suggest they're all happy and healthy, BUT are we really all that different?

A day in the life of Lucy

Yesterday started on a negative note; an argument at 4 am.

By 9.05 am, the sun was shining, boys safely ensconced at school, no commitments lay ahead. I wandered around town all morning, partly to enjoy the sunshine, partly to indulge in charity shop therapy and partly to think about the early morning debacle.
I did very well, found the most interesting items of clothing in one day (another photoshoot looms) and, half way through the charity round, enjoyed a custard slice and a pot of tea in The Princes, a delightful Art Deco style cafe.

I entertained myself by looking at the list of items on the bill and making up band names; DANISH WEDGE GRAVY was one (or maybe a gross euphemism).

I also marvelled at the fine array of ladies sporting bandaged legs - is this compulsory post 65?

Most of the cafes in Pontypridd are of the greasy spoon variety, but this one is special. I don't go there often because the customers are too sensible. No eavesdropping fun to be had.

 I like the font on the signs, and I like the big copper urn. I have dreamt about having a cup of tea and a custard slice on my own there for ages. It took 4 and a half years to finally achieve this goal. It was pleasant, I probably won't do it again until my leg is bandaged.

It was BOGOF day at the Red Cross charity shop. I came away with four items, only paid for two, the dress I found made my day - I'll show you soon. I chortled at one of the clothing labels, it sounded like something you'd find in the Profanisaurus.

I walked home briskly, as I passed Thorntons, which is having a closing down sale, I heard a lady say "I'm buying Reagan and Teagan's Easter eggs". I smiled, I hope they're not twins with rhyming names. 

When I got to my street, I saw the shouty woman from over the road getting out of her latest gentleman friend's car. I didn't think her boob tube and hotpants outfit was a good choice.

I ate some leftover beef stew, only I would make beef stew when all around are eating salads and firing up the barbecue. I hung another load of washing out - pink bibs (my niece's). I wonder if the neighbours think I've popped out another baby - a fully-fledged workshy fop (anyone remember that insult from Vic Reeves Big Night Out?).

I tried on my new clothes, everything fitted, but some things would look a lot better if I cut down on cakes, lager and Doritos. 

I had to rush back to town to buy flowers for a friend who keeps giving me things, but won't take, money. My shoes were cutting into my flesh, there was a guy standing in the middle of the road telling everyone, loudly, that "God offers you a comfort blanket". I liked that idea, so did my feet. 

I picked the boys up, took them to the park. They whined, cried and fought. I listened to a lady rave about a meal she'd had

 "he cooked pasta, and we had pesto with it, it was STUNNING!"

"what's pesto then?"

"you know, that green stuff in a little jar"

"nice".

We went home, all of us were tired, all in bed by 9.30.

Maybe I need a job now, eh?

High School Playlist

I completed a High School Playlist post last week, and then deleted it in a temper because some of the links didn't work. I felt rather silly afterwards, it would have been far easier to delete the links (but Blogger, as well as my good self, was having a funny five minutes).

So, let's try again. I was tagged, what seems like years ago in blog terms, but it was a fortnight ago, by Vix. to contribute to this:

High School, 1989-1994. 

I generally did not enjoy school. I had a bad attitude, poor concentration, real trouble with maths and spent all day feeling bored and frustrated. I was good at languages, drama and English, but didn't put much effort in. No regrets, I've been exactly the same at work, bouts of enthusiasm and high energy, followed by me asking myself quietly "what am I doing here?". Yes, I'm the same at home too. The question now is "What am I doing on this planet?".

The first song I remember listening to with friends at school was Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega. I had all her albums by the age of 16, she has a wonderful voice but some of her stuff is so blinkin' boring.

I dabbled with a few genres, never really got into hip hop or heavy metal like my friends, some tracks will always remind me, fondly, of school. One is Can I Kick It? by A Tribe Called Quest. 

Isn't it amazing how the brain stores lyrics to songs in your head? I still know all the words despite not listening to this track since my teens. Another is Falling to Pieces by Faith No More - it sounds horribly dated to me now but stirs up memories of the feeling of inadequacy which started at puberty (and still stings!)

As music was, and still is, a major part of my life, I'm struggling to contain the list. I'll omit the obvious artists like  Radiohead, The Cure, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Massive Attack etc, because they were a constant for me and so many.

My friends and I would hang around the Y.M.C.A every school night and fight over what music to listen to. The boys wanted to listen to Metallica and Slayer, us girls wanted to listen to more lightweight stuff. One track we all agreed on though, despite it's heaviness was Stigmata by Ministry

Here's  great video to accompany a track which reminds me a lot of school, and of my late friend (more about her here) who I went to see Orbital with, we had £2 each in our pockets and danced the night away

Orbital - Lush

Car boot sales - all human life on display

Another timeless track deeply embedded in me is Papua New Guinea by Future Sound of London. Sends a shiver down my spine, so it does

I'd wish I'd have been old enough to fully embrace the rave culture. It's all fair and well hearing how great it was to be a punk, how fantastic the 60's were and to stare in envy at my neighbour Kathryn going out in the eightis looking every inch the one who made it to the Bananarama shortlist, but the Rave culture started when I was a bit too young to fully embrace it, and I feel my age group had a pretty raw deal with music in some ways.

When I'm trowelling on the slap for a night out, this track always gets me in the mood though - Playing With Knives by Bizarre Inc. It did back then too.

And, in light of the beautiful weather, remember this number - It's a Fine Day? I remember seeing it on Top of The Pops, and thinking how brave she was having that hairdo, if you can call it that.

The main track I remember throughout school, which always seemed to be on is, unsurprisingly by The Smiths

<

Lyrics which must resonate with most teenagers at school, surely?

I am the son

and the heir
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth
how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
just like everybody else does

I am the son
and the heir
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and the heir
of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth
how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
just like everybody else does

There's a club if you'd like to go
you could meet somebody who really loves you
so you go, and you stand on your own
and you leave on your own
and you go home, and you cry
and you want to die

When you say it's gonna happen "now"
well, when exactly do you mean?
see I've already waited too long
and all my hope is gone

You shut your mouth
how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
just like everybody else does

Please join in, if you would like to, I won't tag anyone, but urge you to look at Vix,  Sarah Misfit and Curtise's brilliant contributions.

...and the same wrong link thing happened again, I won't delete it this time - I hope you know what How Soon is Now?  sounds like!

Wardrobe tour

When I'm not watching The Jeremy Kyle Show, drinking tea, playing Bingo or knocking back flagons of White Ace cider, you'll find me trawling the charity shops.

Here is a glimpse of my latest charity shop buys and gifts from fellow bloggers. Guess which charity shop is my favourite?

Excuse the badly applied make-up, it was all done in a rush. I don't go out looking the colour of Morph, honest!

I hope the slideshow format works, I've never tried before: