A Snippet, You Lucky People!

Firstly, Happy Mothers Day to all you Mothers, past and present and particularly, (apart from My lovely Mum), Sabrina, who has just today announced that her & Stevie are expecting their first 'peanut' as Sabrina's excited Mum kept yelling.  Such good luck to you both and we can't wait to see baby xxx

Now, have I mentioned that I'm writing a book? Of course I have! And as I'm feeling so happy and joyous on this fine Mothering Sunday, I feel compelled to share a teeny tiny snippet of it with you....

For Sheps sake! Belly has turned to walk across the brown stained carpet to get me a drink that I have absolutely no intention of allowing ever to touch my mouth, and as his back comes into full view, I see what can only be Anthony Worrall Thompson covered in shit, staring over the top of Belly’s waistband!

 

;)

Change?

As I sit here like a rotund Carrie Bradshaw, tapping away on my keyboard, having just polished off a slice of corned beef and a hot chocolate,  I have come to the conclusion that change, although unnerving, is actually usually a positive thing.

Last year a number of people close to me were made redundant.  What a disgusting term that is to be made redundant.  For some other jumped up mortal to deem another individual surplus to requirements is wrong on so many levels however, in some cases, it’s been a blessing in disguise. 

One friend, the funniest person I know, who had been very, very good at her job for over fifteen years, has used this insult to benefit her already full life.  She just upped and went lone travelling and upon her return, instead of doing what everyone else assumed she must crack on with, job hunting, embarked on a comedy course and is performing her first ever stand up slot very shortly.

How brave and marvellous is that?!

There are changes going on around us all the time.  Changes we have no power over and often don’t like.  Even the most insignificant of changes that others would ignore have profound effects, like ripples in a pond being caused by a falling berry. 

Last year most of us had to reapply for our jobs.  Most of us were ok.  All of us were scared and angry and completely powerless to stop the change.  Whilst we were all feeling very vulnerable, dispensable, grateful and small, little tiny changes were forced upon us. 

For years I’d sat at a noisy, fun desk of women, all of whom have become friends.  From being a desk of four women, we were suddenly split up.  I have sat at my desk for years and faced T or JW, with JD next to me (not the drink) and LL behind me.  JW left for pastures new, herself taking the change as an opportunity to better herself, as did JD, who moved to another department.  LL got a better paid job and only sits behind me sporadically, whilst T got promoted and often is needed elsewhere.  So that just left me.  Lazy old me, sitting alone, all angry about the changes and refusing to play ball.

Then, a man came from a different branch all together to sit NEXT TO ME….in JD’s chair!!!! This wasn’t his desk?! How rude! What on earth did he think he was doing?!  The audacity of him!  And to add insult to injury, he didn’t even bother to be over-nice!!!! No small talk left his lips. No “so, how long have you worked here?;  I love your photo’s, your kids are really cute; I hate the changes don’t you?”, not a jot of pleasantry did he feign.   The bastard!

Now, after days of practically ignoring this impostor, I overheard him and another newcomer talking about the books they are writing and I eavesdropped.  It turned out that Newbie & co weren’t boring dullards at all but had each written novels and had material published!  Hmmmn I thought to myself and with great bullish enthusiasm I tactlessly hijacked their conversation and properly introduced myself.  It took a remarkably short time for me and New Boy to start insulting each other and swapping recommendations of favourite books, films, comedy sketches and since I dropped my irrational guard and embraced (sort of) change, I have, with a lot of encouragement from Newbs,  started writing my book. 

I understand that this may seem like much a do about nothing, but if my book turns out to be the cult classic that I think it will be, well, then that is a pretty significant positive to come from change isn’t it?

Now, I’d like you all to go away and think of one change that you might be putting off and write a list of possible positive outcomes if you allowed that change to go ahead.  Go on then….and good luck ;)

Risky Business...

When I was little, I wasn't really allowed out of my Mum's sight due to her being worried that something, anything may happen.  My Dad was the complete opposite but as he worked all the time, my Mum had the say.

I didn't understand the worry at the time and it used to really get on my wick.  I do understand the whole parent/child worry thing now but the difference between me and Mother are that where as she would worry and keep me from harms way, I tend to get my kids involved a bit.  I try to anyway. 

There are a load of things I couldn't or still can't do, as a result of being filled with panic at the very thought of 'what if'...  for instance, I wouldn't dare ride my bike in the road, in fact, I learnt to ride my bike in our hall! I wasn't allowed out of my Mums view so that's as far as I could cycle.  If I had dared ride out of the front door and down the path towards the road, well, who knows what horrors would await.  A gang of giant dung beetles might've carried me off, or a bike pixie may have been waiting, ready to steal my basket & bell! 

I have a list of things that I can't do that niggle away at me for absolutely no real reason as none of the things would come in handy in any kind of emergency, but niggle they do.

I can't do cart wheels, handstands, roller skate, ice skate, cycle on the road, play football, horse ride, paint-ball, climb rope, climb trees, oh loads and loads of things.  This fear of 'what might happen' lead me to leave my driving test til as late as possible and even then, I opted to drive ONLY automatic.  So really, I can't drive either, I am a mere operator of cars.

As soon as I could, I ran off to travel and work abroad.   It was then, at 19 years old that my friends taught me how to dive in, rather than, as I had always done before, climb down the silver step ladder into the swimming pool.  I went a bit mental once unleashed and thinking back on some of the 'risks' I'd taken whilst unsupervised, like fulfilling a drunken dare to dive into a foot of water, I shudder to think what could've happened. Still, I am pleased I took those risks.

Recently I started having an irrational and sudden obsession with my inability to roller skate.  Instead of worrying about the consequences of donning a pair of skates, falling over and hurting myself, I started obsessing about how my kids are missing out on an enjoyable pursuit just because their Mother is too scared to try.  So, I booked a lesson!  Just the thought of me, out of my comfort zone and trembling around a skating rink, brought about great shrills of piercing laughter from one friend in particular. 

I felt a bit sick as I got ready for it.  I popped on a long jumper that'd cover my ripples in case I shook so much that it was all moving, and I even thought, "Tone it down, look completely forgetable. You don't wanna look too 'out there' coz you're already gonna look mentally challenged to all the other skaters"!  So I opted for jeans, in case I fell - I reckoned that jeans would offer a slightly tougher shell to crack, should I rip through at the knee.

I nearly didn't go, but as I turned up, I thought 'just get on with it, who gives a toss'?  Of course I could see through my own transparent pep talk and knew that everyone would be laughing at me and I'd end up on youtube, or People Do The Funniest Things.

Inside the hall, they handed me the most awful, dated pair of clumbersome boots you could ever imagine and as my teacher pulled me over from my chair to the rink, (yes really, I'm that unable), the boots squeaked, a lot!  I asked if the boots were specifically designed to make newcomers feel even more ridiculous and conscious than they already did and my 63 year old teacher laughed and told me not to be so silly. 

They had cordoned off a metre wide strip of the rink for me, while all the other families effortlessly skated around, directly towards me, (so they had to watch what I was doing, unless they stared at the ground). 

I was shyte.  Truly and utterly shyte.  There are no other words to describe how thoroughly awful I was.  Still, there is something to be said for dragging yourself out of the cosiness of never trying, and being thrust out there into the harsh spotlight of risk city! 

As I took sweating, jerky steps off the rink and over to my nice, safe, familiar wheel-less converse, my teacher asked me to take not one, but two chocolates out of a tin as it was her birthday....I dutifully did so for fear of offending her and being pushed to the ground.  It was all such a cringeworthy, uncool experience and I have been back twice since, with the kids and S in tow.  

S had never been on skates in his life and so I felt a little cocky and superior as he clambered like baby Bambi towards the edge.  My daughter fell down and as I uneasily bent down to heave her back into standing position, S had sashayed off into the distance like Cliff Richard circa 1980!  As he skated back into view, smiling and exhilerated, he shouted, "You have to just relax, then it's easy"!  OH FCUKOFF WIRED FOR SOUND! I thought to myself. 

Some of us are risk takers and some of us just prefer to know what's happening at all times.  I like to think I'm spontaneous but really, I'm a bit of a nervous wreck.  Still, I will attempt to, every so often, take a risk.  I think it's what seperates those with regrets and those with embarrassed but proud little smirks.  ;)

Sorry!

After three days off looking after my ill children, things are looking up and they seem to be feeling a lot better.   We even managed a looooong game of Sorry!

Temperatures have stayed normal and apart from a few sporadic moments of lethargy, they really are almost back to normal...

Feeling Guilty

I wonder how I look to my children?

I know how I look to me. And too often, I really don't like it.  I wish I could be like a Buddha, calm and knowing, not just pot-bellied.

When they look at me what do they see?  Do they see an impatient, angry, tired, frustrated, bored middle aged woman, or do they just see Mummy. 

Even when I'm feeling all of the above, they still come to me for a cuddle.  They just see their Mummy.  I'm not 'Me' in their eyes.  I am theirs.  Their Mummy.

I'm feeling that weird, isolated feeling you get when you've been cooped up in the house after a bout of illness. 

Both myself and S have been ill and now, two weeks later, both my kids are poorly.  Son - High temperature, snotty, shivery, flu.  Daughter - High temperature, snotty, vomiting and shivery. 

As any parent will know, we are only allowed to be ill when it suits our childrens moods.  When they wish to make you a 'get well' card, or bring you something from the fridge to 'make you better', you are allowed to be ill.  When, which is 90% of the time, they want food, snacks, something, anything, a partner to play Connect 4, a book reader, something else on the televison, a nose blower, a bottom wiper, a drink maker, a spilt drink wiper upper, a referee between them and their argumentative sibling...or a cuddle, then it is no longer acceptable for you to be ill.  This gets to me sometimes.  I tell myself they have no concept, or worry about how their demands are effecting me.  I talk myself down from getting angry.  I take a paracetamol and try to sit quietly with another cold cup of tea while they watch their programme, loudly.  I am feeling very sorry for myself.

I pride myself on being a very good Mum.  I'm creative, funny and so S told me the other day after watching me chatting to our new guinea pigs, 'loving'.  So, it's days like this, when I have temporarily had enough and have shouted at my unwell offspring and feel guilty and heavy, that I question how I must come across to them, my babies.  So feeling bad for not being calm, patient Earth Mother, I decided to ask them....

Me to my five year old son;

When you look at me, how do you feel?

Er, happy?

Really?

Yeah!?

What, always?

Yes!

Then I asked my three year old daughter the same question;

When you look at Mummy, how do you feel?

Erm, sick.



Oh look, nowhere for Mummy to sit!

 And just like that, my temporary down mood evaporates and I remember that it's alright to just be me and be grumpy, moody, cross and shouty.....   because to them, I am still just their Mummy and they'll cuddle me when they want to, regardless of how fearsome, prickly and horrible I think I'm being.

;)

A Bit Twee ?

This is a painting I finished last night... Bluebell Woods

I know it looks a little 'chocolate boxey' if they even put pics like this on chocolate boxes anymore...

Anyway, it is from a photo I took last year on a glorious day spent rambling with the family including Grandad P, J, L the kids and S.  My late great Grandad Alex always loved bluebell woods.  there is something magical about them.  I may add more depth and detail as Number 1 Son has flu today, so I'm off work nursing him.  As he's not even up for a game of Hungry Hippos, today may get a little creative...book writinf, painting, hmmmm the options are endless ;)

HELLO??? IS IT ME YOU'RE LOOKIN' FOR?

Dear theinvisiblewomanuk.blogspot.com , debadeedoodah.blogspot.com and debaholicsanonymous.blogspot.com followers n viewers,  I initially gave up my first blog because of a pair of unwanted nosey parkers, and started debaholicsanonymous BUT as I'm not technical at all, I messed that one up enabling the nosey parkers to see it.  So, I started debadeedoodah BUT I always missed theinvisiblewomanuk  (not to be confused with theinvisiblewoman), so I am biting the bullet and returning as http://theinvisiblewomanuk.blogspot.com/ and if the nosey parkers, one of whom has apologised, hmmm, if they return and view my stuff, well, then I'll have to take it as a compliment won't I?

I'd like to add that I have been writing a book....I am 23000 words into it and that in itself is UNBELIEVABLE as I rarely stick to anything.  I reckon it's original and very dark humour, so we'll have to wait and see how the middle and end go and whether it is publishable...I am tres pleased with it thus far.  I have also been painting a bit, and getting my kids to paint a bit....I even got the other half to paint three trees in a wood scene that I'm halfway through at the moment.

I have missed blogging and reasing the blogs of others... so anyhoo, I shall endeavour to blog triumphant once more!

And I hope you and yours are all very well ;)

deardeb72@gmail.com

Hello all,  this is my new email address for blogging purposes. 

I've had to stop theinvisiblewomanuk due to two bored little people stalking me.

Obviously I don't want to put my new blog title on here, so if you'd like to move with me, email me for details.  Oh and it is not debaholicsanonymous - I messed that one up!!!
Thank you for following theinvisiblewomanuk and thank you to all those of you who view only as well!

I will check this blog when I get new comments and reply as usual but will not post on here anymore.

Hope to see you at the new blog sooooooooon!

COUNT DOWN - Invisiblewomanuk is ending soon!!!

Please do FOLLOW me... If you don't become a follower by Monday evening, 8.30pm - I will lose you. 

COME ON HUNGARY & USA !!! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE....FOLLOW ME....please?

Cage The Elephant - Shake Me Down

Mars Bars and Mr Shar

      

“Mum can I have a Mars Bar”? 

“NO! You’ll be sick”.

 

I was never allowed a Mars Bars as a kid for that reason alone.  It was never explained to me why that particular chocolate bar would encourage vomiting and  I was allowed Marathons (if I persisted) but definitely not Mars bars.  I was even allowed Treats and Nutty bars. Obviously choking hazards didn’t faze Mother.

I became a bit obsessed with them.  Not in a Marianne Faithful way of course!!! No,  I just used to stare at them, sitting there in all their splendour, in between the boring Galaxy Counters and the safe Milky Ways. 

As a child, the sweets were quite rightly at eye level, so whilst Mum was buying a stamp, or a tin of beef soup for Dad, I’d stand there, ear to Mums hip, staring longingly at the snack that promised to allow me to work, rest and play!

When I was 11 and got a weekend job in Mr Shar’s corner shop, often left alone for a few hours whilst Mr Shar went about his business, I would eat the Mars Bars.  I never got sick either.

Before any of you judge me, Mr Shar paid me about £3.50 for the full weekend.  I had worked for that Mars Bar and now I needed to rest and then play.

Once, I didn’t turn up for work on a Saturday as Mr Shar had muttered in his very strong accent, that my eleven year old self was only required to work the Sunday.  On my arrival on the Sunday, Mr Shah informed me that I had let him down by not coming in for work and he would have to let me go. 

We had an argument, right there by the Look- In’s, and I called him a ‘b*stard’ and pushed a loaf of Mothers Pride off the shelf!

I was a nice polite child really but I had had enough of Shar! 

Only the week before, he decided at the end of my Sunday shift that he would not pay me the full £3.50 in cash, oh no.  he decided it would be better to pay me £1.75 in cash and I could choose £1.75 worth of goods from the shelves!! 

By now I was bored of Mars Bars and hadn’t quite discovered the delights of being drunk on Thunderbirds yet, so I chose a box of Quality Street and some potatoes, both for my Mum.

See? I love that woman.

While we're on the subject of child labour etc  on the 1st April 2011, my friend Linda is going to be attempting a 100km trailwalk in aid of Oxfam.  Yeah, one hundred kms!?!""?**?!

We're sensible people, so I think you'll all agree that it's an obviously ridiculous feat but all in a very, very, good cause.  So, if you've just been paid and have a spare quid, or have just given up smoking and think you'd like to donate the price of a packet of ciggies, or if you are a loaded banker and you have a few thou of us taxpayers cash lining your pockets, then click on this link and donate... http://www2.oxfam.org.au/trailwalker/Melbourne/team/61 

'tis simple and it really will help people and make you feel a bit warm and fluffy inside ;) 

(I bet Mr Shar doesn't donate....the tight bastard)!

TIME TO MOVE ON

 

Hello everyone.

I am really fcuking angry to say this but I have no other option than to stop invisiblewomanuk and start a fresh blog.

All followers, I will email you individually when I have started the new blog.  It will obviously have a different name.  I just don't want the duelling-banjos nasty lies and general madness anymore.

I have tried to laugh off the fact that they are reading my blog but today Banjo 2 sent some pretty evil, messed up texts to Him. 

If we were 'important' celebrities, the texts today would be deemed libellous.  As we are just normal folk, they are merely farcical words of abuse by a strange and spiteful individual who should know better.

This blog was meant as an escape for me to chat to, entertain or just off load to interested, like minded people.  Unfortunately it has been contaminated and I hope Banjo 1 realises what hurt they have caused all round.  I wonder was it worth it? What made you so stupid and spiteful?

So, please FOLLOW... otherwise I'll lose you forever.  I will endeavour to stop invisiblewomanuk by Monday 28th March and start the new one. 

Please Follow.