I'm Not an Earth Mother....

Today I am 37 weeks + 4.

In amongst all the 'great' (I'm rolling my eyes here) and oh-so welcomed (sarcasm) advice that EVERYONE has bestowed upon me, not to mention their wonderful predictions (never knew I was acquainted with so many mystics), I've learnt that I am not an earth mother.

I've not enjoyed pregnancy and have been made to feel like I am some kind of monster because of that.

For whatever reasons I've not bought into the 'precious cargo' theory, nor the 'I'm precious and special because I'm having a baby' - my attitude has been 'I'm pregnant not incapacitated' throughout this journey.

I've worried about so much and experienced so much too - jealousy, turning into the female hulk, struggling psychologically with my changing body and lack of control over that, learning to have a deaf ear to everyone's well-meaning but negative predictions and assumptions about my pregnancy, unborn child and fitness to be a mother.  That's just to mention a few things that I can think of off the top of my head!

I'm continuing to work up until a few short days before my due date, with a bit of a Easter break in between, but I have my reasons and to be frank - you aren't owed justification for that decision.

I've not enjoyed battling my way emotionally and psychologically through the uncontrollable changes to my body and hormones.  I've felt out of control at the best of times and seconds away from first degree (unrepentant) murder at the worst of times.  And I swear if one more adult asks me a question that they've not even bothered to mull over for themselves before seeking me out to answer for them....I won't be held responsible for the devastation afterwards!

Am I excited about meeting her, holding her, looking at her in absolute wonder and seeing the person that she is going to grow into?....A thousand times yes!  But this pregnancy thing?  Just isn't for me!

No I've not got stretch marks - yet!
No I didn't get the cankles thing until the last two weeks.
No I've not suffered with carpal tunnel until this week.
Yes I can still do 25 meters under water without coming up for air.
Yes I can still do a tumble turn in the pool and 30 - 50 lengths.
Yes I can (just about) still bend down to pick things up that I've dropped.
Yes I am still working - because I can!
No she doesn't keep me awake with her moving
Yes I did suffer with 'morning sickness until I was about 18 weeks pregnant)
Yes I know I don't look that far gone.
Yes I am tired despite not looking it.

Does that mean I've enjoyed being pregnant?  No, not at all. 

Here's the thing - having lost a baby and gone through that trauma I am acutely aware of how special the baby inside me is, but it doesn't define me, not any more that having lost one does.  I have not made being pregnant the centre of my world, my conversations, my dreams, my hopes, my fears, my life and my relationships.  I've not been overcome with the wonder of how magical an experience this has been and continues to be - why?  I don't know, because it is magical but life goes on.

Talking of life, I'm off to baby-sit my friend's children so she and her husband can have a much needed night out together!!

Things They Don't Tell You About a Career in Teaching

When you're training to be a teacher there's a great deal your lecturers will tell you, in fact for the most part your head will feel like it's going to explode will all the new skills and knowledge you're trying to cram into it, but there's a vast amount they DON'T tell you.

1. You never stop being a teacher in hundred little ways from meerkat peering at your ducklings to make sure they're behaving, to constantly having to resist the urge to use your 'teacher voice' when any situation feels like it's heading in the wrong direction.  It never stops.

2. You will hate the sound of your own voice.  You've no idea how true this is for me, I have reached the point where I do not want to talk unless it's via the medium of inarticulate sounds or rapid hand gestures.

3. It's okay to say 'no' to the feeling you must work even though you were in school at 07:30, have brought your uneaten lunch home (twice to both of those), not walked outside in daylight for three days - or was it more? You will wake in the middle of night thinking "Shit! I haven't done so and so".

4.  You will crave solitude like an addict and even if you aren't a bath person you'll start taking them because it's one of the few places where you can get five minutes of echoing silence.

5. Everything is a potential resource or has a lesson or activity in it.  Everything - running that bath?  Maths - capacity and volume, English - the poetry of the sound of the gushing water, PSHE - how fortunate we are have running water, History - Victorian plumbing and the invention of, Geography - water sources, Art/DT painting reflection in water and designing a water floatations, Science - the minerals and additives to found in our water....the list is endless

6. It's possible to loath and love your job in equal measure.  You will hate the endless paperwork, the bureaucratic paperwork that stands in the way of getting your ducklings all right help that they need, the long thankless hours, but you will love being the person your ducklings rush to share something with, love their pictorial offerings, love when you see them working so hard to grasp a concept and you will love their nativity efforts.  Most of all you will love trying to help them unlock their potential and encouraging them every stumbling step along the way.

7. You will be exhausted and frustrated and hungry and needing a pee and you will convey all of that to your ducklings.  Then you'll be saddened that you're turning into one of 'those' teachers, it will break your heart in every possible way but from that you will pause, take a breath and exhale and change.

8. There will be days when you will come home and feel the inexplicable need to cry, your day has been relentless and you've been reactionary to a myriad of last minute decisions for books to be scrutinised for marking, for risk assessments, behaviour reports written, parents who wish to speak to you, lesson plans, gifts for hampers, etc. Some days you cry, some days you say "no" and go out for a meal with friends and some days you just have a bath

An open letter to that friend who flirts with my husband....

Dear friend who flirts with my husband,

I thought long and hard about writing you this letter, my first instinct was to make it very clear – verbally – that you were in danger of having two black eyes and a broken nose, but I reigned in my primal need to assert my superiority and thought this means of communicating would be less dramatic.

Here’s the thing, as a woman approaching her 40^th birthday I understand all too well how life and societal pressure has this endearing way of striping you of your self-esteem and confidence, and replacing it with a sense of your decaying beauty, of your rapidly diminishing worth.  Obviously the feminist in me wishes to declare from the top of my soap box that my sense of worth isn’t measured in how youthful I still look, if I can pass the pencil test and if I can still be ID for alcohol.  However, that feminist still wears a push up bra, can still pass the pencil test, will glow heavenly from being asked for ID and loves a turned head, so good luck convincing her she’s an confident, intelligent and sophisticated woman who has nothing to prove.  That said, I get it, I truly do. 

Now, that I’ve got that nicety out of the way and reminded you that we’re not so different and definitely not in competition with each, let me remind you of something else; we’re friends and have been for a very long time,.  Sheesh, we’ve got each other through more rough patches than I can remember and more than that we have shared far more happy memories than trying ones.  That’s an achievement in itself.  In light of that, it is not okay for you to flirt with my husband and it’s definitely not okay for you to insist with pride that you are a part of our marriage.  You aren’t and won’t ever be.  I’ll explain why, because it is wrong.  We are married and that is sacrosanct, what I share with my husband is separate to what I share with you just as it should be.  We make decisions and go through things that only we can get each other through, that isn’t a criticism of you – just the natural order of the way things are.  No more and no less.  Some things are private and are meant to be kept within the sanctity of marriage. 

It is wrong for you to use him as a boost to your flagging confidence and self-esteem, it is disrespectful of our long standing friendship, and it is entirely unnecessary.  You are a beautiful, courageous, ambitious and immensely talented strong woman, any man would be lucky to have you on his arm and many women want to be you.  Why don’t you believe that?  What has happened that you feel the need to flirt with your friends’ husbands to make you feel needed and wanted?  Why haven’t you talked to me about it?

I guess ultimately we wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t in some way feel threatened by you, if I didn't feel like I was in danger of losing my marriage.  History has shown both of us how the laws of attraction work, how intense situations induce intense emotions and by default, connections.  This is how it starts, first, it is harmless banter, then the exchange of wit and retorts give rise to enjoyment in the attention, it is thrilling.  It is so thrilling that it becomes actively sought and because that initial thrill can't be replicated the exchanges become more risqué, this leads to attraction and finally, the attraction becomes so intense it is harder and harder to ignore.  I know how it works.

So now I pose the question – is this what you had in mind when you started the flirting?  Is this what you predicted would happen?  There’s that line in Love Actually where Emma Thompson asks Alan, “Would you wait around to find out if it's just a necklace, or if it's sex and a necklace, or if worst of all it's a necklace and love? Would you stay, knowing life would always be a little bit worse? Or would you cut and run?”  Obviously we’re not talking necklaces here but still, would you sit on the fence while I flirted with your husband, be him your ex, waiting to see how far it could go or would you nip it in the bud?  Would you have this conversation with me were our places reversed?  Would you?

The truth is I need you in my life, I want you in my life and I have done for a long time but you’re in danger of crossing a line that isn’t negotiable.  So, where do we go from here?  You tell me.

Love you, love me x

What Next?

I'm on automatic, sleep has gone out of the window and I'm largely living for those quiet moments in which I can be unguarded and just stop.

It is only May and while 2016 saw the celebrity world decimated with loss it seems 2017 is being personal.  A year for growth?  I don't know, I can't tell, I'm .....numb, just mechanically getting through the days whilst unconsciously bracing for the next event.

2 heart attacks
3 heart surgeries
A house move
Numerous job interviews
A new job
A miscarriage
Investigations into a hereditary heart condition
Suspected stress induced stomach compliant
Stage 4 stomach cancer

Always a internaliser, always able to find the right word to describe a feeling, a situation....I am suddenly without words, without the desire and vocabulary to recognise this.... Period? Situation? Experience?  No words, no labels, no impetuous...just numb in what next?

Two Air Masses

Sometimes it's like I was never pregnant.  My body has long since returned to its pre-pregnancy state and as shocking as this may sound there are even days when I forget I was an expectant mother.  Then there are days when knowing I was and am no longer expecting are my only reality.

Yesterday was Mother's Day in the UK.  Oh.

I didn't expect it to be a hard day to get through.
I didn't expect to want to go to bed on Saturday and get up again Monday.
I didn't expect my moods to be such a tumultuous affair.

I was only 9 weeks and 4 days pregnant when we learnt I'd lost it and it was only measuring 0.4m, what it should be around 5 weeks.  Technically it was a cluster of cells, not yet a foetus and not a baby.  I guess knowing this made me believe or convince myself that I hadn't had time to get excited, that not being able to wait until we could buy a few baby outfits wasn't a thing for me.  It was.

I didn't tell L but I checked the baby app to see how it was developing and what stage it was at more or less every day, and I certainly didn't mention I waited eagerly for our 12 week scan to see it for the first time.

*sigh*

All I can do is, once again as I have before during difficult times, remind myself these feelings aren't going to last forever. This is a period of transition and I should think of it like turbulence on a plane: travelling through the collision of two air masses.

The Road to Recovery: My Miscarriage and Me

Things seem to come in waves...the grief, the anger, the disappointment, the acceptance.  Sometimes they dance with each other, spinning and twirling and taking it in turns to lead in a Tango across my psyche.

It's been nearly 2 weeks since I elected to have SMM (surgically managed miscarriage).  Miscarriage: A taboo subject or a topic fraught with emotionally motivated silences?

I'm slowly recovering from my missed miscarriage.  Physically I recovered very quickly but nothing prepared me for the emotional journey it was going to take me on.  I've moved from not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to talk at all to anyone really, to being able to tell some but only those I choose and when I choose.  From this I've learnt people judge you, 2 people have 'judged' me on electing to have SMM and all I ask is...please don't judge me.  Please don't judge anyone when it comes to dealing with a miscarriage.

My sister, T, has experienced 2 miscarriages herself and she confessed to a desire to 'write a paper about miscarriages because it is such a taboo subject'.  I'm not sure that it is a taboo subject, I think I lean more toward the notion knowing how to respond is difficult and that makes it a not talked about subject.  Everyone's experience of a miscarriage is different, both physically and emotionally, for some there is immense pain and lots of bleeding, for others no pain and lots of bleeding, for some no pain and no bleeding... It therefore stands to reason how a person processes and chooses to deal with their miscarriage is unique, is their journey to recovery.

I chose to have SMM over 'allowing my body to do what it's done naturally for thousands of years' rather than subject myself 'to the risks of uterus scarring and puncturing' to quote my sister because, simply put, I didn't have the emotional strength to go through another 2-3 weeks like the last week I'd gone through.  I just couldn't do it.

So again I ask you, please don't judge me, please don't judge anyone, on how they choose to cope with their miscarriage because in doing so what you're actually doing is judging their emotional state, something you do not have the right nor insight into their psyche to do.  It is a painful enough experience without someone weighing and measuring your response and somehow deciding it is wrong.

To Accept It Is What It Is

Have you ever had a relationship which hasn't taken the shape you wanted? Have you ever had expectations for a relationship only to find no matter what your ideals they aren't being fulfilled?

I find myself in this exact situation and I wonder at what point I am just going to accept it for what it is and stop trying to shape it into something it isn't, and I dare say won't ever be, and save myself the heartache and disappointment.

This person and I have been in each other's lives for nearly twenty years, they have known me since I was a babe in the arms of mother and I am apart of their family, yet... We have no emotional connection and there is little affection between us.

We don't argue or fight but to not exchange hostile words doesn't mean we get on. Or have a relationship. To say we don't or haven't exchanged 'hostile words' is being liberal with the truth, there have been numerous occasions in which this person has flung barbed comments in my direction both one-on-one and in a public environment. I don't respond for varying reasons; my mumma didn't raise me to be spiteful or vindictive and the escalation of negativity would only cause heartache to many.

It makes me very disappointed that we don't share a bond, that we don't do the kind of things together I assumed, however wrongly because to assume is to make an Ass out of yoU and ME, that we would in our special relationship. It confuses me that I not only don't understand this person's cold demeanour and random acts of spitefulness, I also don't understand why after so many years of our relationship not meeting my expectations I still continue to hope it will.

If I'm thoughtful about the whole situation I find it is me that is at fault, it is me who is and has been trying to impose my 'idea' of how things ought to be on us. The reality is I should stop tormenting myself with what isn't and can never be and respect what we have. I ought to accept it is what it is. And move on.

Things That Happen When L Goes Away

L is away for the next two weeks fulfilling his work duties, I keep telling myself that since we'll be moving in the new year and it's going to be a regular occurrence again (that's different issue, sorry post, for another day) I'd better get used to it.

So as not to drown in my own misery I'd thought I'd keep this post lighthearted and let you in on what really happens whilst he's away...

1. I stay up passed my bedtime every night, obviously I tell him I am NOT doing this because it's a hell of a lot easier than explaining rubbish tv is fascinating.

2. I will eat an entire bag of sharing popcorn to myself in one sitting. At 111 calories per serving that's nearly 2,400 calories in a 'snack'. Have just literally put the bag out of reach!

3. I will get into my pjs as soon as I get home from work, when L is here he at least makes me wait until 18:00. Don't know why he bothers, it's not like we are expecting guests.

4. I will watch every z list celebrity film on the Hallmark channel I can find, if not that then Snapped or Fatal Vows. L seriously mocks me for this like Westerns and War films are sssoooo much more entertaining.

5. I will graze listlessly on just about everything and anything without really eating a whole proper meal, apparently when he goes away so does my ability to make a decision on what I fancy to eat. As a whole meal.

6. I will take 2 days to clean the house instead of the few hours it usually takes. I have to space these things out, you know, to stave off the boredom.

7. I will suddenly forget to pick up after myself and have a habit of 'shedding' clothes. This sounds worse than it actually is, by the I mean I will leave my dirty clothes in a heap on the floor either in the bedroom or bathroom and just not bring them down stairs straight away. It's that staving off boredom thing again. I promise. I will swear when L calls that I haven't turned into hurricane Catrina (his nickname, one of many for me) and am keeping the place neat and tidy.

8. I will snack on cheese and think this is an entirely appropriate snack as it's got calcium in it. I will pretend I haven't when he returns.

9. I will drag out an old teddy he got me about twelve years ago and sleep with it. I know, I know, I'm a 38 year old woman who sleeps with a bear.

10. I will not tell him that I miss him so he doesn't feel bad about leaving me.

Ten years dating (yes I know I take my time) plus eight years of marriage and my routine of bad habits when he goes way hasn't changed. I'm sure they're why he fell in love with me.

You can't take it with you

I finished my last supply booking nearly two weeks ago and haven't worked since. There's nothing out there the agency said and I can see that. Most schools will have already been hit by Ofsted for an inspection, so supply teachers aren't a necessary cost.

Needless to say I've panicked about money since. Being of the independent disposition I'm used to earning my own money and contributing toward taking care of household bills, I'm still doing that but the money I've put aside for when I'm not working is dwindling. I'd planned on being out of work for 6 weeks not 12.

When my sister L's birthday came I deliberated over what to get her, she's ...particular. In the end I bought her a book of postcards to colour herself, a YSL nail varnish that I knew she'd adore and put some money in a card for her.

I put more in that I usually would because I reasoned...it's just money and what am I working for if not to treat my loved ones?

Besides, you can't take it with you.

Supply and Demand

In September of last year I went back to supply teaching once I'd completed my NQT year. To be entirely frank it was a really easy decision to make, I weighed my stress levels, exhaustion, the work load and my mood against my need for quality of life and love for my marriage. Many non-teaching professionals across the world are unaware of just how many arguments between husbands and wives are about the amount of work teachers do, how little time and attention they truly give their loved ones. I'm not masquerading under the elitist illusion that teaching professionals are alone in the domestic strife caused by the pressure of workloads, it's endemic to modern society unless you are wealthy enough not to need to have to work for a living. And that statement there - 'work for a living' is what made me go back to supply teaching, I want to work to live not have my life consumed by work.

On the plus side since starting in September I've hardly been out of work, aside from early in September and January when teachers hadn't had a chance to run themselves into the ground and fall prey to illness but otherwise I've been turning down bookings. Yes, I've had the luxury of turning down work because supply work and listening to my mind and body needs allows me to do that.

My agency have been pretty good, accepting when I say 'no thank you' to bookings, checking in with me while I am at bookings and providing feedback from schools. I don't expect any different as a happy worker is someone making everyone money. That isn't to say I've not had to chase them up for various things, or fight my own corner at times to not take bookings when they are in desperate need, or push back at schools when I feel they are starting to take advantage of my good nature (the last is a work in progress).

I've been extremely lucky that the two schools, yes I've only been to two schools since starting supply in September because both have continued to ask and book me on a weekly rolling basis, have been fantastic and I've loved them. I love the children I'm currently working with to the point I know I won't be dried eyed when it comes to leaving, but I will leave and I'm okay with that. I can forego the pleasure of hearing their clambering need for my attention so they can show me the work they've completed, or to share with me just as I need to take the register their latest joke, or their desperation to tell me all about their weekend as we're going into mass. My heart will break but I am confident there will be others and my fingers ar crossed that there will be.

Undeniably it's fantastic to be in demand as a supply teacher, I know I've been accepted by the children because I receive offerings of their affection on a daily basis and the permanent staff have accepted me by offering their support and guidance. I've been included in daily school life in every way.

So while I am in demand as a supply teacher, while we as a family unit are fortunate enough for us to have the luxury of choosing where and when I work, I am going to continue listening to my mind and body and making sure I get the balance right between supplying others demands of me.

Love and Dragons

The other day I happen to be in the vicinity of a friend discussing her daughter-in-law issues, I listened without offering an opinion because it wasn't my place to, but after...I started thinking about my own mother-in-law issues. I began to wonder if grandchildren were involved if we'd be so amicable or would she also fear I'd withhold them because we disagreed?

For the most part I've just accepted it's a mother-in-law perogative to be pushy and domineering especially when it comes to their sons. Why? Well because it's about control, jealousy and things so deeply primal and innate I'll be damned if I'm intelligent enough to figure them out and impose order because I'm not a mother.

Generally speaking I get on pretty well with my mother-in-law J, she's an independent hard working woman who has really come into her own over the last ten years. The change in her confidence and self-esteem is wonderful to see, and I'm proud of her accomplishments. As mother-in-laws go she's a good one; kind, caring, considerate and generous...

..I know you can hear the but coming...BUT there are times her taking over, smothering and general narcissism have me rolling my eyes and leaving the room before my inner monologue becomes a soliloquy. I have very little time or patience for those who show off, celebrate your success and discuss the compliments you have been paid but bragging and boasting is just plain abnormal egotism. It's also inexorably insipid and tedious. In addition to liking to sing her own praises, when we visit she takes over and I take a back seat. I do this because L's parents live 8,000 miles away and those 2-3 weeks once or twice a year are the only time he gets to spend with them. Geography aside, I won't put him in the position where he is stuck between a rock and a hard place: us! You've got to pick your battles and to date we've not clashed over anything. I might once have aired my opinion on her husband's selfish response and total absence of concern when L was in a car crash which totalled his car, and I might not have minced my words or left any ambiguity to how much I applauded her love in staying with a man so undeniably petty and callous. I might have done that. Once.

I wonder what her issues with me are: no grandchildren? Too opinionated? Too indecisive? Too hotheaded? Too moody? Too demanding? Too aloof? Too dismissive? I know she feels I 'seduced her son' because she's told a table full people - twice. Well, aren't I the veritable tramp?

Either which way, derisive humour and comments aside, I know I'm lucky with J if the worst of our relationship issues is the minor complaint that she has a tendency to brag too much and take over. It could be far worse and I am thankful for that. I miss her when we're here and no one makes Christmas special in the way that she does, and above all I am reverently aware without her I wouldn't have L and for him I'd put up with her being a complete overbearing dragon.

Here

My NQT papers completing my trainee year have been signed off and submitted.

Reports have been written.

We've had the end of year party.

I've bought them all a little something.

Somewhere between these things I've got to where I am now...tired, sad to be leaving, hoping I made a difference (however small), praying life gets better for them and wanting so desperately to hear of their success.

More than the above I'm left with being a part of the emotional silence that descended on us all as C, my ADHD boy, sung Sam Smith's Lay Me Down. I was, am, so proud of the him.

Some how between being slapped, kicked, punched, spat at, verbally abused and screamed at I wound up here...loving them all and actually really upset to be leaving them.

Love and Hate and Other Things Beside

Just when I have finished congratulating myself on being unique I go and do or say something that is inherent in just about every human being on this planet. Take for example the fact I have been wishing my life away by staring forlornly toward Friday 17th July like a rejected besotted teenager, only to wake up suddenly with a desire to hold back time like a death row inmate.

On Friday 17th July I officially finish my NQT year and working at the school I'm at, I don't know whether to pat myself on the back for surviving it (especially given the children I work with) or to mourn it like the end of a passionate love affair.

Yup. I've got no answer to that.

Closer to Home Truths

With seven weeks to go as an NQT and working with the very special children I do I'm starting to wrap things up emotionally, assigning my own closure.

You've heard me talk once or twice about my father, I don't like to talk about him very often not only because it's a raw subject but also because I know it's one subject and matter I'm never going to get closure on. Not in any way that I can accept at any rate.

With Father's Day and my father-in-law's birthday coming up I found myself looking around me at the 'Father' model I had before me, sadly it was extremely negative. My own experiences with what a father is and does is jaded and skewed at best, dysfunctional and damaged at worst. When I look at the father figure the children I teach have...well, it almost makes me thankful for the one I had.

I sent my father-in-law a 'dad' birthday card with a flippant message inside about not having a dad of my own so I was adopting him, I even joked I was mostly house trained now and had a job so I earn my own pocket money, implying I shouldn't be too much of a burden. Is that what I think a dad is like? - someone who moans at you for your mess and how much money you ask for? The truth is I don't know. I don't know what it's like to have a dad or a father-daughter relationship.

What I have are vague memories of a scary grumpy man with no patience, who once or twice came to get me from school and might have brought my bike for me to ride or an ice cream to eat. The other memories I have are of the things he did post separation.

The thing is as much as I lament not knowing or experiencing so many things (dad taxi, bank of dad - apparently, in my mind - dad meeting boyfriends, dad pushing me on a swing or singing Frozen like the dad in the house at back of ours) I had a really strong mumma. I had a mumma that was my nurse, my confidant, my hairdresser, my judge and jury, my North Star, my moral compass, my father and my mumma.

Can't ask for more than that.

Impossible Situations

There's a line in Pretty Woman in which Richard Gere laments his knack for impossible relationships and I sympathise, mine is for impossible situations.

It seems I can't go a couple of months without finding myself in one - stuck between a rock and a hard place. Usually involving a conflict between my work and home life...

I withdrew into myself today, turning things over and over and over in my head and my heart. Each time I arrived at the same destination: anger and hurt.

Eventually I tried to talk to a friend but she misunderstood the situation, completely, and I didn't have it me to correct her.

No matter which way I turn this problem to look at it from another angle, I see the same disappointing facet. And no clear resolution.

I could philosophise all day long about how I ended up here (again) and try to apportion blame, but I'd still be no closer to knowing what I should do. Or what is the right thing to do.

Sometimes love has a hell of a lot to answer to. And the damned military too.

Rabbit Holes

I'm a curious person and I have an inquisitive mind...it's a blessing and a curse - think adult version of the child who always asks "why?". I haven't been posting my usual Wednesday Wonderings but that doesn't mean I haven't been falling down the odd rabbit hole and getting lost in a world of thought, I have, it's just been more internalised.

On the subject of thought, I just listened to Lady Antebellum I Need You Now and I love it! I don't know why this happens but certain songs 'speak' to me, they create a reaction in me that goes beyond goose bumps to lost for words and lost in another world. It is hard to verbalise what I mean by this without some of the magic I experience being lost in the mundaneness of verbal communication. To try though, at times songs transport me into scenes and create images in my imagination, all it takes is first few bars and I'm tumbling down a rabbit hole into another world suspended between reality and ...I've no idea where to be honest.

To paint you a picture, when I was at university studying for my Bachelors I was also studying for a GCSE in Maths, every week I went to see a private tutor in Richmond. The walk took me over Richmond Bridge and up the hill, I always paused at the top and looked out over Richmond Park, just the sight of it shrouded in a mist on a fresh Autumn morning was enough to suspend all reality for me. But I'd take it one step further and play P.O.D Alive on my mini disc player...and as if by magic I was riding a dragon through the morning mist, swirling and diving while I took part in some epic battle. It was beyond words, I'd tingle all over, my cheeks would flush - as much from the cold as from escaping reality - and time stopped while I inhabited a Labrinthesque bubble.

Lady Antebellum I Need You Now is no different, when I listen to it I'm thinking of a particular scene featuring the main character in the story I'm writing. The scene is only half formed in my head, like I'm seeing it through some kind of veil and so the precise details are obscured but the feelings are all there. I think if I listen to the song enough what I'm imagining will coalesce sufficiently for me to be the conduit to the page, until I manage that I'm going to be wandering around the place never really being completely in the room.

I wonder if the creative process is like this for others - like being a psychic but for books and scenes? When parts to a story come to me they're never in a linear sequence, chapter one of book one is rarely followed by chapter two of book one.

So, reader, what's your creative process like?

A Different Kind of Hero

I wanted to post this snippet in homage and sympathy, I suppose, and to say a hats off to all military spouses. I didn't want to do this yesterday because yesterday belonged to our fallen heroes and I didn't want to undermine or take away anything from them.

We military spouses are a strange breed and we, like everyone, go through some tough things in life. I posted this a few years ago but recent events, like moving all over again and the isolations that comes with that starting over whilst trying to pretend you're not feeling destabilised by it, has bought home to roost certain emotions.

To that end, this..this post goes out to ALL the women of the world who are married to military personnel x

The good Lord was creating a model for military wives and was into His sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared. She said, "Lord, you seem to be having a lot of trouble with this one. What's wrong with the standard model?"
The Lord replied, "Have you seen the specs on this order? She has to be completely independent, possess the qualities of both a father and mother, be a perfect hostess to four or forty with an hour's notice, run on black coffee, handle every emergency imaginable without a manual, be able to carry on cheerfully, even if she is pregnant and has the flu, and she must be willing to move to a new location ten times in seventeen years. And, oh yes, she must have six pairs of hands!"
The angel shook her head, "Six pairs of hands? No way." The Lord continued,"Don't worry, I will make other military wives to help her. And I will give her an unusually strong heart so it can swell with pride in her husband's achievements, sustain the pain of separations, beat soundly when it is overworked and tired, and be large enough to say, 'I understand' when she doesn't and say 'I love you', regardless."
"Lord," said the angel, touching his arm gently. "Go to bed and get some rest.You can finish this tomorrow."
"I can't stop now," said the Lord. "I am so close to creating something unique. Already this model heals herself when she is sick, can put up six unexpected guests for the weekend, wave good-bye to her husband from a pier, a runway or a depot, and understand why it's important that he leaves."
The angel circled the model of the military wife, looked at it closely and sighed, "It looks fine, but it's too soft."
"She might look soft," replied the Lord. "But she has the strength of a lion. You would not believe what she can endure."

Finally the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the Lord's creation. "There's a leak," she announced. "Something is wrong with the construction. I am not surprised that it has cracked. You are trying to put too much into this model."
The Lord appeared offended at the angel's lack of onfidence."What you see is not a leak," He said. "It's a tear." "A tear?" What is it there for?" asked the angel.
The Lord replied, "It's for joy, sadness, pain, disappointment, loneliness, pride and a dedication to all the values that she and her husband hold dear."
"You are a genius!" exclaimed the angel.
The Lord looked puzzled and replied, "I didn't put it there".

Remembrance Sunday

Today as I rode by,
I saw the brown leaves dropping from their trees
In a still afternoon,
When no wind whirled them whistling to the sky,
But thickly, silently,
They fell, like snowflakes wiping out the noon;
And wandered slowly thence
For thinking of a gallant multitude
Which now all withering lay,
Slain by no wind of age or pestilence,
But in their beauty strewed
Like snowflakes falling on the Flemish clay.

Thank you to all the men and women who have fought and sacrificed that others may know what it is to have freedom and liberty - you paid the highest price and are immortalised in our hearts.

Coming Up For Air

My Masters level assignment is done and handed in.

I have finished university for 3 weeks.

I still have a presentation, another M level assignment, 2 tests and 2 subject knowledge folders to be assessed but they seem manageable and I have 3 weeks. So I am coming up for air.

Last night I treated myself to a beer, a bath, some tv and I slept until 9am this morning.

Fabian

This is my nephew Fabian, who is nearly 2 months old and I haven't met him yet.

Isn't he gorgeous?...

I feel awful that I haven't met him yet and it feels terrible to admit it's because my life, every moment of it, has been swallowed up by training to be a teacher. I mean look at him...he's perfect!

He has my sister's nose and Steve's eyes.

*sigh* I can't wait to see and meet him.