Holy Bunny Ears! My last few days have just been tough…and when I say ‘tough’ I mean it in the NOT VERY DELICIOUS sense of roller coaster. I’m strapped in and i’m holding on tight. I’ve had a really tough August 🙁 and well September looks as though it’s going to be just as tough. 🙁 🙁
There’s been happiness, sadness, family, fakery and fondness. My life is truly just drama at present & it’s sort of gotten to the ‘white flag’ stage of ‘ffs Dear Lord, just cut me some slack.’ I’m a decent person. I have nipple tassles and everything. Yet now, I’m exhausted by it and I’m never really exhausted of anything, as I can always plonk my cute Asian booty back on the horse and giddup, with a reboot, wine and a ‘victory punch’ of ‘head held high.’ However, when i’m exhausted it simply means that I find it no longer productive, too painful, or not really worth my time. You’ll know if i’m exhausted by you because i’ll just get my big old glitzy ‘bye-bye’ scissors and snip around the air of your being, scrunch that freshly snipped section up and lob it over my shoulder for someone that can actually be bothered with such nonsense. I’ll have nothing to do with people that i’m exhausted by simply because I don’t have to be. Yet when I say, snip around and lob away, I do mean forever…as I have great friends who I pop in and revisit from time to time, because they understand that with me being a ‘Mama,’ nothing beats the time that I have with the bambinos. They don’t ridicule me for it. They love me for it.
But yes, they’re not snipped away at all because they’re decent human beings. I’m proud to be a Mum and proud that i’m home for them every night. Someone text me yesterday stating that I don’t necessarily parent my children and only look after them physically for ‘the few hours I have them on a night and a morning.’ Firstly, the few hours is 15 hours, of a 24 hr day. 5pm to 8am. Secondly, I didn’t quite realize that there were people in the world who judge parenting on hours? Surely it’s a ‘forever’ kinda job, where you’re never not a parent, until the day you die. Even then, you will always be their Mama. You don’t ‘clock in’ for an hour or two then ‘do one’ with a heel clicks to the air. I don’t react to nonsense anymore and I don’t think it’s appropriate for people to try and demean the love I have for Ruby and Junior. It’s not fair..and simply not true. I’m there playing on an evening, giggling with Junior, tucking Ruby in as we snuggle down and watch ‘Cinderella’ each night, whilst trying to balance both attention seekers out with love and fairness. 🙂 My children make me feel powerful. I’m a woman, here me *ROAR* and all that. I think any good parent, be they a ‘Mama’ or a ‘Papa’ feels the same and acts the same way I do, with my babies. Yeah, there’s a lot of children who don’t get that full time affection from their parents and they’re forced to grow up fast, which fucks them up when they become adults. Like my friend Kat who moved away to live in a different country at 15 years old, because her mum was an alcoholic, meaning her childhood was filled with abuse. Everyone saw her as angry and evil…but me. I saw HER for who she was and all she needed was love. In the BBF house, there was a moment when she cuddled me tightly and like a little girl in hysterical tears screaming, ‘Please don’t leave me, I just don’t want to be alone.’ And some were quick to call her a lunatic. But all she needed was a cuddle and to know someone was there for her. The misguided parenting that she had received as a child had messed up all her relationships & filled her with issues of trust. In the end and after drugs…she killed herself because of it. That was the worst voice mail I ever received in my entire life. I didn’t actually believe it or didn’t want to believe it, that I called her mobile over and over again, outside The Hilton hotel on Edgeware Rd. But from that day she was gone. Her parents were not always there for her. But I guess it’s just the way those parents chose to parent.
My mum always taught me that, whilst the people you love are still alive, it is important to give them ALL of your heart and attention because once they pass and you never know when someone will pass… you can NEVER make up for the time you chose to lose with them. (She told me that when her daddy died. Her other siblings were never really there for him and sort of fair weathered in whenever they so wished with a smile on their faces, yet with no real true hearted commitment. My mum was ans id never like that. She was there good or bad, from the day she was born to the moment in Burma (she took the next flight there from Yorkshire) when he died in her arms. And he even said that he fought off the power of the illness, until she got there, because HE KNEW that she would get there for him. She travelled across the world at a moments notice to be by his side for a moment. They had that moment and it WAS just a moment. Then after he told her his dying wishes, with peace in his heart and the satisfaction of knowing that she cared, he passed in harmony, in her arms, in a giant oriental, golden roofed building in Burma.
That woman is my role model. That lady is the lady who raised me. And she always says that I might come across to people in a bad light due to hear say, judgement, too much eyeliner, boobs out, a stint on the telly…anything. Or to those who just want to dislike me. Yet underneath it all, I’m just the same as her and that I shouldn’t let anyone tell me that i’m not wonderful. She says, ‘you’re a girl that often people label as a bad. Yet really your the girl who visited HER father 92 times in hospital, after his heart attack, not missing a SINGLE visiting hour, day or night, for the whole time he was in there in case he didn’t make it. You’re the girl that used her first big pay packet to buy presents for the children at a care home so that they could experience Christmas probably for the first time with a smile. You’re the little girl that sat down with her little baby brother when he was getting bullied and assured him that everything was going to be okay because he had you. You’re the girl that lived a larger than large life, that at 30 something gave it all up to sit with your babies every night, to be with them & to make sure that they always felt loved. You fall in love hard and without judgement, be they rich, poor, good to you, bad to you… You’re MY Baby Ruby and couldn’t be prouder of you.
You see, I’ve had a great life and I love spreading a bit of cheeriness when I can. Yet through my cheeriness, i’d say i’ve had my fair share of hurt, like everyone really. My Mother can’t stop life from hurting me when it wants to, yet she has surely taught me the tools to be able to handle it when it happens. I had a big old cry last night, when she told that I had’ brave faced’ this whole current situation and I didn’t need to anymore, because she was there to help me, if I just let her and that I didn’t need to prove to anyone that I could do this on my own or prove that I was a good person. I cried..and I cried out of relief. But the real kind of crying where you actually try to stop yourself from doing so. I cried out of relief and maybe sadness., or maybe even happiness because I felt I had a team mate. But it’s just when she looked at me, gave me a cuddle and said, ‘You don’t have to be strong all the time and fighting doesn’t always make you strong. You can give in. You’ve had enough now.You can let me help you. I love you.’ In that moment and I was in snotty, hysterical tears, I felt like someone cared for me..like someone had thrown in the towel for me when I they saw beyond a brave face and knew that I maybe couldn’t take anymore of it alone. She said that I looked up at her the way I did when i was 5 and had accidentally split my spaghetti all over the living room carpet. 🙂 Yet in that moment, when the entire world thought I was strong. I was there, like a little girl, being cuddled by her Mum, who loved her and gave her back her faith in herself. I told her everything. How I felt. How I had been feeling. What had fully happened and why..How I was coping…what I thought was happening. And she said nothing, but listened and listened with love and to listened to me without attacking how I felt and for hours. I cried for hours and instead of pulling a wound open further, she pushed it back together to help make it heal. I guess Batman always had a Robin. (Rather homosexual…yet deliciously vital and very much needed.)
Anyway, the preachy bit over. Sunday was AMAZING. As you know, nothing is more important to me than family time with my winkles, so now every Sunday we have what I call ‘Sibling Sunday.’) With love being the strongest power in the entire world, it’s important to invest time in it…and I love my loin fruit more than anything. Even when they shout at me. 🙂 They built me my foundation, (and I came from a good solid bit of foundation anyhow) but Rubes and Junior helped me create my own, making us a jolly old stable unit and well if you don’t have a foundation, you’re lost and when you’re lost…you cannot ever grow to your fullest potential. (Oh God, I’ve gone preachy again.)
But yes! Just of recent i’ve been working a lot more and so all the spare time I do have I just want to spend with my baby family. I’m older now and happy that I never actually ended up being as tragic as everyone thought. I got my priorities straight and I did so very quickly and with pride.
The weekend was filled with fairgrounds and carousels and shopping trips and lunches. Excitement, giggled, toys and laughter. Mummy love, baby love and on a whirlwind of magic. It felt amazing and I did ALL ON MY OWN. Y’see, now that i’m having to be sort of ‘just me’ and the kids…i’ve embraced it with a lion heart and a ‘they really need me now.’ Women are amazing like that and that’s why i always feel we are the sex to be appreciated. We are the givers of life and no-0ne, not even any man gets to enter this world, without coming out of our vaginas. They just don’t. We rule. And I feel back in the day women were treated badly and suppressed so that they didn’t know the power that they had. Yet today and because of a history of fine ladies chaining themselves to all sorts of merry objects, to simply to fight for our rights…we now know our worth and know our strength, meaning that when it needs to pop out…it does!
I’ve usually relied on lots of people to ‘give me a hand.’ A man, my mum…everyone. But now, I do everything by myself. I haven’t even asked my mum to help me with anything and i’m far too terrified now to fully ever rely on a man to always be there for me. Not only have I surprised myself, which makes me beam with this magical strength…which makes any girl sexier in her own right. When a chick finds her ‘Va voom’ and totally decides to own it, she is dynamite. But at the same time i’ve struggled, which might seem like a downer, yet it’s not…having a big old weep because the adjustment is not as easy as you thought simply means you’re still human…and that really does make you whole. Anyone who is always strong is someone who isn’t human. Anyone who is always weak, is someone who really isn’t whole. It’s unnatural.
This is what I mean by it being the roller coaster part of my life.
I’m up through the night with both children, I get up and ready by 5am. Well sometimes like last night, I’m already up, when it’s ‘time to get up’ due to a Junior feed, so i just end up having to get ready for work. The children settled. I get them dressed, fed and sorted for nursery, by this time i’ve already dressed, groomed and sorted. We have a bit of a play, a bit of morning love, then at the speed of light we’re all packed into the car, on route to nursery early, so that I can do the drop off, wave them my love and then shoot off to money make, on my yummy 3 hours a night sleep.
That’s my morning before I even start work. But i don’t mind it really. I mind that I don’t have help with it anymore. But it’s not something I can’t do. I’ve been doing it every day for my babies. So many people have it a great deal worse and I’m not foolish enough to say that i one bit feel sorry for myself, when there’s a gzillion homeless women with children having to survive and sleep on the streets each night. Did you know that 3 women A WEEK, die at the hands of domestic violence. Hence, why a lot of them run and try to survive. Of recent i’ve heard so many stories of such that my heart goes out to any women suffering on any level. A random gypsy lady stopped me in conversation at the weekend to tell me how beautiful Junior was. Anyhow she had got talking about life, children and sex and she actually TOLD ME, (because we were having a conversation about Doctors) that her gypsy husband once came home (he apparently left at 8 o clock in the morning, did whatever he wanted and returned at 8 o clock at night and the first thing he would say to her was ‘where’s my dinner…’) Anyway he came home one day, saw that she had been taking birth control, as she had left her pills on the side of a counter by accident. (She secretly didn’t want anymore children because it was too much work for her and she had a newborn. He of course , being a man and not understanding the work that it takes, wasn’t taking ‘no more’ for an answer.) So, no he didn’t have a loving chat and make her a cup of tea with a cuddle. He grabbed her pills in a fit of red mist, began screaming at her (I guess all angry and Irish)…then after throwing her pills away, beat her, grabbed her, threw he on the bed, forced down her knickers and sex with her against her own will, to prove his point and teach her a lesson. He deliberately came her in. She feel pregnant.
After hearing that…my story is nothing. I’m just, a mum of two, doing it on my own..for now…with a wiggle, a bit of moan, yet a happy face. But when she told me the story and it’s weird that she was so bold to tell it, yet I always weirdly bring that out in people…like with the granny at Co-op who insists on telling me about her raunchy, dildo, sex life, by the bakery section…she looked at me with hard eyes, but a gentle soul. Yeah it was smeared in the most brightest of orange fake tans, balanced out with the hottest of budget pink lips 🙂 ….but in that moment, I saw her and I wished she was more treasured as a woman. She also had a newborn and outside Nandos, for a good few moments we connected. Then Ruby wanted to go on a bouncy castle, which she finally decided to turn down, once she saw giant, leaping, bashing into one another chav boys, beating each other merrily upon the ultimate castle of bounciness.Now, I never really tell her that she can’t do things. I just look at her with a ‘is that really a situation you wish to take on after Peri Peri chicken, at 2 years of age?’ I trust her judgement because I always know that good people, in the end ALWAYS make the right decision. Even if it’s late…in the very very end…they always make the right decision.
I’ll stop now and start a new blog…as there’s a whole bunch of bad stories there for you to munch upon. 🙂 Yay! It’s like the opposite to ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul.’ My version is obviously called, ‘Bad Soup.’
Lord knows, why I tinkered down that road! ?! I must be getting my period. 🙂
Next blog, on route…