Wednesday Madhouse - winning and losing

Fanfare please...................the last madhouse post..............a day early this week as I have friends down to visit tomorrow and will be agreeably engaged elsewhere.

 I have body image issues. I have ever since I had my emergency c-section. My stomach muscles were damaged and they never recovered so I have a ring doughnut belly and my belly button is AWOL. I can't wear a bikini anymore. I am so self conscious about this.

I also battle with my weight. Pre J I was a size 12, post J I got to a comfy 14 using WW points. But I find dieting impossibly hard and I have an intense dislike for exercise. I also like food and live with someone who loves to cook and does it so well.

I loose the battle of bulge and then I hate my body even more. These days I fluctuate between a 16 and 18. To me my view of my body and trying to get where I'd be happy is a battle that I never win. Or it was......

I still have issues and still have bad days but they are getting less and less - what is my miracle cure? Have I slimmed down to a curvy 12 or 14? No. But I realised that I am happy. When I diet I am unhappy. I spend too much time worrying about putting weight back on rather than enjoying what I've achieved. I am fit. I am healthy and I am pretty much content most of the time. I have a family who love me and I no longer spend time worrying over what I can or should eat. And the amazing thing is, since I got my head round this simple way of looking at stuff, my weight has stayed the same. I lost some weight in the winter and it hasn't gone back on. I eat healthy 80% of the time. I take moderate exercise most days and I maintain a status quo that although isn't perfect I can live with. Perhaps that means that I am winning.

That's all folks. No more madhouse.

Thursday Madhouse - Missed Chances.

I know the penultimate one and I'm a day late.....so sue me. One reason I am late is I have a complete blank over this one. There are things I could have done or maybe should have done, but as I try to live my life without regrets, there is nothing much that I see as a missed chance - they have been more about choices of direction.

However, I could be all serious and find something deep and emotive from my past to bring a tear to your eye of loves lost etc (not really - meeting M at age of 15 kind meant anyone before him wasn't love, it was teen lust) or the regrets over family misunderstandings (and there have been a few) but again I believe in no regrets so that doesn't work either. I could spin you the heart rending tale that my Father died without ever telling me he loved me....but it is ancient history and I have so come to terms with it....so what can I tell about missed chances........

1) I missed the opportunity to punch the girl, who bullied me at school for over 4 years, on the nose and if I had my time over - I would and if she crossed my path now - I would take her to task and probably deck her.

2) There are a few people that I should have 'told it how it is' to at the moment they deserved it but I did the grown up thing and turned the other cheek - I missed my chance.

3) There are a few peeps that I should have helped remove their heads from their rectums but I didn't. I have made a solemn vow to rectify this (get it?) and from now on if you talk to me with your head up yer bum I will tell you to so and ask you to remove it.

4) I should have told MJ years ago that he always spouted 'bollocks'.

5) There are a few peeps I've shown kindness to who have then preceded to shit on me from a great height - I know now and will not repeat my kindnesses but will bestow them on others who deserve them. If you ask again -I will be reading you your life history cos I didn't at the time and I should have!

6) I missed my chance to learn to drive - dear lord I am useless behind the wheel of a car.

7) I should have stayed having the drama lessons - I think they would have made me a better liar than I am.

8) I kind of wished we hadn't gone on holiday to Cornwall when we did -cos then I could have spent the last week of Loobles life with her.

9) I regret (yes a regret) starting this cos I want to get to 10 and I've run out of ideas.

10) All the knitting projects I've frogged and then a month later thought ............"Shit!" I did like that after all.



Almost there one left - phew. Back next week for the madhouse finale....like anyone reads this drivel or gives a fuck!

Wednesday Madhouse - Happy.

Define happy? Happy is surely different for everyone. It is such a daft word for such a strong feeling.

I don't think I really get happy or do happy that much. I can't abide jolly cheery sorts, I find them intensely irritating, if I'm honest, I just like normal everyday kinds of being, maybe bordering on morose or slightly grumpy.....Oh I've just described myself. If I do jolly it feels like wearing the wrong size shoes.

I think extremes of emotion on a regular basis are unhinging anyway. So why do people feel the need to convince us they are happy with wonderful lives? Why do people feel the need to pursue happiness? How can you pursue something so fleet of foot and brief? And surely once you reach the pinnacle of happiness then what is left? Or is that then a done deal and you have to find some new kind of happy to chase down?

Personally, I am 'happy' (get it?) to find contentment in who I am and what I have. I would rather have moments where all is right in my world in little ways then be trying to be or to achieve something that isn't really me at all.

I feel no need to hold my life up and find it lacking in someway, though I'm sure to many others it is. There is nothing I need to pursue to make me happy. I think this idea of happy and needing to show the world you are happy is what causes so much discontentment in modern life. We are encouraged by envy and social media to see what we have or are as lacking in someway if we cannot reach understood measures of happy.

I do not need a bigger TV than my neighbours, a newer car than the people over the road, a better holiday than my friend or a more whizzy mobile phone than her down the street to be any more happier than I am right at this minute. The new obtained bit of material happy may produce a brief happy dance but is it really happiness I've gained? Or would I just be being brainwashed by pressures of the modern school of being that equates retail therapy and material posessions with being happy?

Happy is someone making you smile or laugh - freely and without restraint. Happy is waking up naturally when your body tells you, not when you have to. Happy is finishing a good book with a sigh of contentment that the author whisked you away from yourself. Happy is a hug from someone who wants to hold you. Happy is Lottie finding her babble ball and wagging her tail off. Happy is watching your kids grow up healthy and strong. Happy is acceptance of life as it is right now.



No Madhouse next week as it is a topic repeat and I can't think of anything else to say about 'shoes'. Then there are only two more after that.

Wednesday Madhouse - Music.

Lalalallllllllaaaaaalalalalalalllllllllaaaaaaaalllalalala dee-dum-dim-deeeeeeeeeeedummmmmmmmmmmdididididideeeeeeeedum.

I thought I'd sing you a little song.

I like music.The room I am in right now has at least 10 different instruments easily to hand. I like to sing and make sound (it sounds like music to me). I like natures music, right now a Robin is singing right outside the window,a Wood Pigeon is calling in the distance and the leaves are rustling in the breeze - no cars.

If I have a choice I would rather sit and listen to music than watch TV. One of the few things we spend a lot of ££'s on is our music system - far more than we'd spend on a TV, games system etc. It is wonderful to be able to flood the room with good quality musical sound.

As for musical taste mine is always mood related but it wide ranging. There aren't that many music types that I don't do - off the top of my head I can only think of Improv Jazz. Though I must be getting old because a lot of stuff that is current and IMHO manufactured I can't abide. Occasionally I hear something and it resonates for instance I never thought I'd like Lady Gaga, but I do.

This weeks listening has been - Tori Amos, John Frusciante, Simon and Garfunkel, The Raconteurs, Slipknot, RHCP, Smetana, William Orbit, Geoffrey Oryema and Lisa Gerrard.

Who shall I listen to today?

Wednesday Madhouse - Hidden Talents.

But if I tell they won't be hidden!

1) I can play the Clarinet and the penny whistle.
2) I can do the splits.
3) I can suck my big toe.
4) I am brilliant at untangling knots and jewellery.
5) I snore better than M. I think that's a talent in itself.
6) I do the loudest sneezes they can damage your ear drums.
7) I do a great Welsh accent.
8) I am ace at building with stuff like Lego and Meccano.
9) I can sing.
10) I can still tap dance.
11) I can do a cart wheel.
12) I can float like I am lying on a lilo (without a lilo) and go to sleep doing so.

I am just so dang talented.

Wednesday Madhouse - Perfect moment.

I know I should post about something like my wedding or the birth of J etc but OK they are pretty amazing moments but not perfect. I think it all depends on your definition of perfect.

Even on the shittiest day imaginable I can have a perfect moment because to me a perfect moment is a moment out of time that just fills you to the brim with a sense of ease, contentment and bliss. Some days I have lots of perfect moments.

I like to think that moments that feel that good shouldn't be confined to monumental events or even only to days where you are happy - they should crop up, here and there even on the grumpiest or most mundane day.

Here are some examples of moments that I think are perfect;

A little chunk of pure peace and quiet with just the birdies in the background - when you can take a couple of minutes just to listen to them sing.

A well made, perfect temperature cuppa after a couple of hours of madness - the sink into a comfy chair, put your trotters up and just be still and relish your brew.

Finding a poem that moves you or relates to something you think or feel - the same can be said of music. Sometimes 10 minutes just doing nothing but being carried off by a piece of music can be sublime.

Hugs! I love to be hugged. M does the best hugs ever.

I love it when M and I have the chance to go out alone - no kids or dogs - just us. To go somewhere with no time limits and be together - pure bliss. Hand holding adds bonus bliss.

But my favourite moments are moments when you suddenly realise, no matter what you are doing or where you are, that right in that second, you are totally 100% content and life could, right then and there, not get any better. Doesn't matter if that lasts seconds, minutes or hours - it is recognising it and feeling it that counts.

Wednesday Madhouse - Eye Contact.

I used to work with someone who thought it was important to stare you straight in the eyes when he spoke to you. I am no shrinking violet but I found this most uncomfortable and awkward because, firstly, I couldn't stand the bloke and secondly I was aware of my eyes not being able to hold his and this made me feel like he would think I had something to hide or was dishonest or something. I hated getting cornered by him but as he was the bosses son and my direct superior it happened most days. To this day I still dislike someone staring directly into my eyes. I don't find it an act of honesty - I think it is fuckin rude and can feel intimidating.

But as with everything there is one exception to the rule;- kitties. Everything is better with kitties.

I love the trust of a kitty when it looks directly at you and then does one slow, long blink. From what I've read this is cat body language for reassurance. All my cats of have done it and one of the best things is if you blink at them first and then they blink back at you. It feels kind of good.

Because I've always done this with my kitties I must have also done it with puppies (I was never aware that I did) until the day I realised that I had slow blinked at Lottie and she responded in kind! It probably doesn't mean the same to her, but it is a taught behaviour and she quite often blinks back at us and at Conkers too. Fergus hasn't picked up on it....yet....and I don't know if he will. But I think cos Lottie was such a hyper mad puppy I must have done it as a calming reassurance thing with her - Fergus being a good calm pup didn't need it.

The only creatures allowed to look me straight in the eyes for a sustained period are kitties and Lottie - everyone else.....look away or I'll change my name to Medusa.

Wednesday Madhouse - Faux Pas.

Hmmm don't know about 'faux pas' but I could win prizes for my ability to insert my foot into my mouth. I could recount endless examples of this talent....but I would rather talk about the how.

Sometimes, if I'm really honest, I am totally aware of what I am saying and I make a vocal gaff to provoke reaction or to piss someone off. I am petty like that. I can garner immense pleasure of saying something that can be taken as an innocent mistake or a deliberate prod. I'm not proud of this (well not always) but it is a part of my make up and I never claimed to be anything other than an arsehole.

However, I do quite often say something that I have no idea could be read the wrong way, normally due to thoughtlessness on my part or my hatred of awkward silences and the overwhelming need I get to fill the gap, which results in a 'blurt out the first thing that pops into my head' moment. Quite often I am so unaware that what I've said could be taken the wrong way, because I've said it in all innocence, and it is not till we get home and M comments or points out how my 'blurt' could be misconstrued that I realise what I've done. This happened this weekend, I had no idea that I might have said something that could be seen as a slight or rude to my SIL but when M told me I was horrified, it hadn't crossed my mind that she could have seen it that way! Hopefully she's known me long enough to realise that along with sometimes being an arsehole I balance it with being an idiot. Whatever though, it will be a case of least said soonest mended.

Perhaps I should just learn two skills to solve these aspects of my flawed character - 1) learn to let opportunities pass and be a nicer person and 2) learn to let others fill the silence or to let the silence flow and be comfortable with the awkwardness.

p.s I think some peeps take my posts to heart - a lot of what I type is tongue in cheek and I love to take the piss out of myself within my blog writing. Also I quite often get stumped with the Madhouse topics and type a load of ole bollocks just to make a post because my OCD will not let me miss one!

Wednesday Madhouse - Not enough

Not enough time,
Not enough wine,
Not enough of Mike's carbonara,
Not enough yarn,
Not enough socks,
Not enough books,
Not enough money,
Not enough relaxing,
Not enough playing,
Not enough music,
Not enough cheese,
Not enough colour,
Not enough sleep,
Not enough poetry,
Not enough deodorant.......phew
Not enough terriers and kitties,
Not enough space,
Not enough thinking.

Loads and loads of love though.

Wednesday Madhhouse - Getting caught.

This title has fried my noodle. I never got caught. Not smoking in the school grounds, not making out with a boyfriend, I never did shoplifting or any kind of stealing, I never smashed windows, did graffiti - in fact I can't think of anything where I got caught.
I thought through ways of twisting it - like getting caught in a long term (life term) relationship at 15 or catching a crafting bug or some other obsession but I truly cannot get inspired.

So, for the first time, I am bugging out of this weeks topic. Next weeks looks more inspiring.

Wednesday Madhouse - Crafts

I grew up in a house full of crafts. My Mum sewed, knit, crocheted, made my ballet costumes and clothes, did macrame, made candles, baked, did embroidery and was always making crafty things for fund raisers and school fetes. She collected 'Golden Hands' and 'Craft' and turned her hand to most things in there at one time or another. I know this is where my love of crafts comes from and my older Sister and I were encouraged to try stuff out and learn new skills. Despite this, it was my Sister who taught me knit, not my Mum. One birthday K bought me a knitting pattern (dolls clothes) and needles - she got me a tape measure and made a felt case for it and made me a sewing needle case with needles and a thimble in and some little scissors but the best part of her gift is she took me to a yarn shop in town (Castle Square, Brighton) and bought me yarn - in skeins (which I'd never seen before) - to make the pattern for my doll. I still have the pattern. We came home and together we wound up the wool.

I did knit as a child, K showed me the basics, I used to make shapes up, guessing how to increase and decrease. My Barbie had a lovely selection of garters stitch halter tops (child of the 70's) in a bright lilac colour, but I didn't love knitting for a long time. Even as a young adult I prefer to sew or do needlepoint or crochet. I became a sporadic knitter.

After J was born I discovered patchwork - spent 3 years going to classes - loved it. Went to shows made numerous quilts, cushions, spent almost every free indoor minute working on it. But, isn't there always a but? Too much of a good thing, studying with the OU and preferring machine piecing (at that time) meant I started to fall out of love with patchwork and quilting. Around this time I rediscovered knitting  - we were going on a canal holiday and I wanted to take something portable with me for the evenings to keep my hands and mind occupied. There was a trend for big yarn and big needles (one of my previous issues with knitting was everything, other than baby stuff, took too long) I bought some supplies and pattern and had a 'eureka' knitting moment on the Kennet Avon canal. T'was a rediscovered skill that became a passion. At first I had to badger my Mum quite a bit as I was very rusty with my skills, but then I discovered Knitty and other online resources and off I went.....quite funny really as now Mum picks my brains.

I still do other crafts - including patchwork when the mood takes me. And I am still surrounded by crafts as Mum makes cards and M has his pottery and drawing. At the moment J shows no interest in any craft, perhaps it may skip a generation or it may just be taking its time and sneaking up on him.

I don't know how people live without making stuff and crafting, it has always been such a part of who I am, I'd be lost without it.

Wednesday Madhouse - Teachers.

Interesting subject from my perspective because I am not only the parent but am also the teacher. Not a teacher who works a class full of kidlets but a parent who chooses to educate otherwise or home educate her child.

This duel role can make for some challenging issues at times but it is also one of the most rewarding things I have ever undertaken. It is also one of the scariest too - especially now as we start to approach the age of exams and thinking about the future. There is no-one to shoulder this for us - we have to step up to the mark and make choices.

The positives of home educating and the dual role of parent and teacher are the same as all parents experience before their children enter the education system - it just lasts longer in a home ed situation. I see first hand everyday J's triumphs and his disasters - in fact these are both shared. If he fails, then it means I fail too etc. Over the years we have shared some amazing things amongst these are the most brilliant moments of all, the moments of distraction when a question or a comment sends us off on a tangent and we can be distracted by something  new that neither of us knew about before.

I have learnt so much. I have learnt new ways of doing and learning, I have learnt to be more accepting, patient and open minded, I have learnt to say "Damn it, it's not working, lets do something different." And most importantly, for me, I have been there seeing J learn.

He isn't a genius, he's an average teen boy. But he has an enquiring mind and has learnt at his speed using things that interest him - we have both learnt together.

The pros of my dual role definitely outweigh the cons.

Wednesday Madhouse - 2 for the price of 1.

I missed last week so I am attempting to play catch up this week.

23rd February - Insomnia.

I am a sporadic insomniac. Most of the time I sleep quite well, but when something is bothering me than it can, and often does, effect my sleep pattern. I find I have the personality type that has a night time brain; by this I mean that once awake, say for a bathroom trip, then if I am worried about something, my brain will suddenly ping into awake mode right in the middle of the night, quite often with no warning. I am a born worrier but during the day I can bury things or distract myself  but at night even the smallest worry becomes magnified and sleep becomes a distant friend. M is good, he always tells me to wake him - but it's like waking an Oak tree in the dead of winter, he does try, but sleeping is his natural state!

I have strategies for these periods when I become sleepless. Sometimes I let my brain do its thang and wear itself out, but this can take hours. Sometimes I use meditation techniques and try and rebuild in the finest detail a favourite beach in Cyprus and sometimes I just wipe it out by building mental castles in the sky. These work about 60/40. On the the nights they don't I toss and turn, complain and give up and read a book knowing that tomorrow will see me wrecked and bad tempered (shhhh everyone who said "normal then ?").

I don't know how proper insomniacs manage - a couple of nights with bad sleep ruins about 10 days for me. I hope that I never get beyond the sporadic attacks that I get now.

2nd March - Fire

M is an amateur pyromaniac (something he had in common with my Dad), a love of burning stuff - bonfires, chiminea fire, bbq's - you name it and M loves it. If he had his way we'd have bonfires every night. I think then, it is a very good thing that he discovered Raku.

Raku is an ancient Japanese way of decorating biscuit fired pottery it involves (my technical knowledge is a little sketchy - I am not a potter) glazing the pot, heating it with a gas burner fired into a Raku kiln, lifting it out, glowing hot, very carefully with big, big tongs and then stuffing it into a reduction chamber - filled with all manner of combustible material - and shutting it in there to see what effects you get. If this works then this should link you to one of my favourite pieces of M's Raku - I love the rainbow flashes within the copper matt wash. If not this link goes to his blog and there are Raku, Naku and smoked fired pieces scattered about in there - all of the above use fire.

I've not tried Raku, me and pottery don't get on, but if you ever get the chance to see Raku taking place - grab it. The glowing hot fired pottery and then the burst of flame as it enters the reduction chamber is enough to stir the amateur pyromaniac in us all.

Wednesday Madhouse - Family recipes.

I know a day early but I am busy tomorrow.

This one is tricky. There aren't really any family recipes that I use - especially as M does most of the cooking. The closest I have to it is a family owned cook book that is my bible. It is circa the 70's and is called 'The Dairy Book of Home Cooking'. It is about A5 size and it is my first port of call when I need to refresh my memory of how to cook something or to tackle something I have never cooked before. My scone, cake, crumble, rice pudding, biscuit, pastry and basic stew recipes have all come from there. I am, however, more of instinctive cook than a recipe follower, once I have the gist of how to make something then I tend to make it up as I go along, adding a pinch of this or a dollop of that.

I also have two 80's versions of this book but they are nowhere near as good.

The other thing that makes this tricky is that what we eat now as a family (M, J and I) is very different (most of the time) from what we ate growing up and also how it is prepared and what ingredients are used. Both M and I are from scratch cookers, neither of us like to use packets or prepared stuff. We also both like quite a lot of veggie food and these days 99.9% we eat and cook low fat.

So here is my take on a fav recipe (the original comes from a Sue Kreitzman low fat cook book);

2 or 3 crispy eating apples (washed)
8 floz orange juice
5 tablespoons of soft brown sugar
10 tablespoons of self raising flour
2 lightly beaten egg whites
A goodly sprinkle of allspice and cinnamon

Core apples, chop roughly (leave the skins on). Put apples into orange juice and leave to soak for at least an hour. Line a fairly deep cake tin with baking parchment and preheat oven to about 170c.
Mix all the dry ingredients, sifting the flour and sugar.
Add apples, orange juice and egg whites.
Mix together - it becomes gloopy batter like and sticky.
Splodge into the cake tin and bake for two hours.
Last 30 mins or so - cover top with foil so it doesn't over brown.

Yummy and very, very low fat. It goes well with custard for a pudding too.

Wednesday Madhouse - Sorry.

Sorry is such an over used word these days it no longer has much significance. People say "Sorry" instead of "Excuse me" or "Pardon". People say sorry for the slightest thing I am one of the worst offenders!

I seem to spend more than half my life apologising or I should say I did. Some good friend pointed it out to me (thank you Caroline) that I am always apologising for myself, my mistakes or existing - well she wasn't that harsh, it isn't in her nature, but if she had, she would have been right. Even M says "Stop saying sorry for everything" - the dogs play him up on a walk....I apologise, he can't find something ....I say I'm sorry I don't where it is....I could go on for ever with examples for my need to apologise to everyone about everything all the time.

I have decided that it must stop. Sorry and the ability to be able to use/say that word should only be kept for when it is really necessary and needed. I can no longer de-value the importance of the word by constant over use.

So I won't apologise for this being short. I won't apologise for needless things and I won't apologise if I don't post for a few days after this.

Wednesday Madhouse - Keeping Secrets.

I think everyone has secrets, not other peoples secrets, but secrets that you personally own. I know I have and lots of them are from my childhood and lots of them are things I am none too proud of. It's amazing how they stay with you. It must mean that in one way or another they either haunted you or changed you. I can't remember what I had for dinner on my 12th birthday but I can remember things I've kept secret from that year.

There is only one other person who knows almost all of my secrets and the ones they don't know are the ones temporarily misfiled or forgotten until something unearths them, and that is M. Over the 28 years we've been together we have talked about everything and secrets on both sides have gradually all been uncovered. I think that is a healthy thing when the person you love best (not counting kidlets here) knows every facet of who are now and what made you that way. There is something so reassuring to be know you're accepted warts and all and there is something so comforting when having one of these discussions your other half says something like "Well if you think that's bad ....then listen to what I did."

I can recall quite often saying during one of our deep and meaningfuls "I've never told anyone this but..." and he has never judged or recoiled from me. It makes you realise that maybe the stuff you have in your past isn't quite as bad as you thought, and that, if you have learned from it, then it had a purpose and that by owning up to it to someone else you can move past it and bin it.

It always helps me to rationalise that the stuff that was bad at 12 or 13 is pretty small potatoes now and that holding stuff inside isn't always the best way, plus some of them seem so funny and bizarre when you finally say them out loud, that not speaking of them has internally demonized them beyond measure, letting them out is letting go.

Not all my secrets are trivial though and some of them belong to others and their behaviour around me or towards me. Some have maimed me internally and some I will have to carry forever as they shaped me. I realised that when I came to accept that I am agoraphobic and that that stems from some of my secrets. However, the realisation of this is also part of the treatment and maybe one day the cure. Those who have added to this burden, may gave burdened me, but I'll be damned if I'll ever let them beat me.

N.B. I picked 12 as just a random age - it was no worse or better than any other age for secrets but for one reason or another it is a year I remember clearly.

Wednesday Madhouse - Shoes.

A few years back one set of friends called me 'Imelda' with good reason. I had a staggering shoe collection that seemed to grow and grow. At that stage my feet had not grown since I was 12, I had remained a UK size 4, and still had shoes from my teens in my wardrobe. My shoes were so crowded in that opening the closet always set off a footwear avalanche! I even had shoes I had never worn and was 'saving' for best - how much of my 70's upbringing does that reveal?

I had trainers, sandals, fuck-me shoes, boots, loafers, comfortable shoes, killer shoes, flip-flops. I had black, brown, blue, red, pale green, pink, grey shoes. I had expensive designer shoes right down to a £1.50 pair of falling apart espadrilles.

So what changed?

Motherhood - pregnancy! My feet grew by 1/2 a size when pregnant and another almost 1/2 a size after J was born. Nowadays I have awkward feet; a 4 kills me, a 4.5 can be a bit like hens teeth and if found a little tight and 5's quite often flop off as I walk....there is no such size as 4.75!

This has curbed my shoe buying and that has curbed my desire to buy shoes.

I still have between 15 and 20 pairs - of which I wear 2 or 3 regularly - I won't buy new walking boots for example because I love my tatty faded (yet still waterproof) old ones - I haven't bought a pair of shoes in 2 years. I don't even surf for shoes online these days.

I do still find shoe surprises in the bottom of wardrobe - you know- shoes I'd forgotten about - I put them back with the idea of wearing them again and promptly forget them again.

In fact the only part of my shoe mania that remains is my need to have my leather shoes properly polished before I leave the house!

I think I might be cured.

Wednesday Madhouse - Ugly

This kind of says it all.

Wednesday Madhouse - Sexy.

According to The Oxford English Dictionary - sexy - sexually attractive or stimulating.

The thing that gets me with this word is the when it is used in relation to an object. I have heard it used in relation to "Oooo sexy shoes". Does this mean that the look of the shoes makes you fancy them or that they actually turn you on? That a pair of shoes gives you that little frisson in all the right places. Now, I like shoes, but to be honest they just don't do 'it' for me.

Another example of this I've come across is in cookery shows on TV -"a sexy little pudding". I've yet to see a pudding that makes me want to whip off my knickers and jump into bed with it! I've eaten puddings that give me pleasure, that have that wonderful melt in the mouth "ooooooo" moment but I can say, hand on heart, I've yet to find one that has made me orgasmic.

I think that the word 'sexy' should be reserved for proper usage and no longer used for items that cannot turn you on (unless you are a little kinky), otherwise where will it end? "Look at the sexy washing up brush?" or maybe "That is one sexy tin of beans!" or my personal favourite "I can't wait to wear those sexy socks."

Let us resolve to use the word sexy for the right things (imho) - that look that almost turns you inside out, the curve of a well formed buttock or breast, the voice that sends a shiver up your spine and the touch or kiss that melts you the second it connects - those are my idea of sexy.

Wednesday Madhouse - Expectations

This almost totally slipped my mind....blame a heavy head cold for that.

I have unreasonable expectations of everything - but most particularly of me.

I expect that as most things I have attempted in life have come quite easily to me and in a way I want, that everything I attempt will be the same.

Life likes to throw you a curve ball now and then though.

I expected to fall in love, get married and have a family. I expected to be expecting within 6 months to a year of starting to try. My expectations were very, very misguided.

I could get pregnant but I couldn't stay pregnant - one early miscarriage followed another - in fact I've lost count and over time I think this is my minds way of dealing with it all. Nine years it took and finally I was expecting. Not that it was plain sailing, either being pregnant or giving birth.

I expected after having one, big healthy baby that number two would be a doddle - pah to expectations - I never fell pregnant again - and after a further 6 years of trying called it a day. I had my reasons for not going the IVF route - all of which are personal and still valid.

But I had the family that I had had expectations of.....at last.

I expected to find being a Mum fairly easy and that I'd be quite good at it. Another mistaken expectation. Being a Mum is the hardest thing I have done and TBH I don't think I'm that good at it, it just doesn't come easily or naturally - I have to work hard at it and practice a lot. I have got good at apologising though - so it is also a learning process.

My expectation of being a Mum were that I would (with ease) inspire, teach and be patient with my child. I expected that my maternal love for him would change me from an impatient, short tempered being to a calm, chilled out and cool parent.

You see I expect to be good at everything all the time. I think I may be a little deluded. I am learning not have impossible expectations of others (it isn't easy - ask M) now I just have to learn to cut myself a little slack.

p.s. As I was typing this J asked me what I was writing, so I read it to him - he disputes that I am not a good Mum and told me I was the best.......wonder what he's expecting?