Well, it's D-Day today. My husband's last job in the military after a 17-year career. It's taken him to Singapore, Portugal, Thailand, The Seychelles - all very briefly. But mostly to Plymouth, Portsmouth and now Pirbright. (Well, that's where the kids go to school, and it's the nearest place to us that begins with a P!)
So, come September, he'll no longer be Lt Commander but Lt Commuter, bound for the 0716 to Waterloo. He's really excited about it; so lucky to have got a job to go to after leaving and glad to have made the move while he's still young enough to retrain. Hopefully, it'll be a smooth transition. He's a creature of habit and routine but I think after the summer off, bar one or two resettlement courses, he'll be keen to get started.
In fact, I've been interrupted, he's just walked through the door, wearing his uniform for one of the last times ever after a morning of farewell speeches and too many cakes. And he's said he's a little worried about how it's going to impact on me.
As an independent, go-getting career woman (well, someone who's taken that route because her house-keeping and cake-baking skills are non-existent), I'll have to spend more time at home. It'll mean I have to juggle my work even more than I do already as he won't be able to help with school drop offs and picks ups. But I don't work regular days enough to justify the childminder/au pair thing. So, I've decided to spend more time writing, properly, and generally enjoy being more of a homebody. We might even get a dog!
I'm finding this quite difficult to admit. I feel like I HAVE to work because I got to a certain stage with my career 10 years ago and then having the children brought it to a gradual standstill. Then we moved abroad. Now I've got my head back round the technology again and climbed a little way up the ladder, albeit only on a freelance basis, but I don't want to slide back down the snake at the next throw of the dice.
Plus, we've settled in Surrey - of all the not-cheap places - because this is where we ended up, so we need to make ends meet. My income's always been an added extra that's made me feel entitled to buy the odd thing for me. I'm not the Jimmy Choo's type (I wish!) but I don't want to feel even more guilty than I already do for buying a new pair of shoes/jeans/glasses.
I've considered studying for a year and would love to do a law degree, but for the cost! I've considered going into teaching but then reasoned that I ought to use the qualifications that I've got. So, I'm going to write, from home, as often as possible, and see what my keyboard has tapped out by the end of the year.
When I'm feeling confident I think I can do it but I constantly have doubts. Look at the books out there: the inspiration that spawned blueeyedboy by Joanne Harris, which has an additional blog on myspace as well as an iTunes playlist to supplement the story. The literary crafting that someone as young as Zadie Smith churned out. I'm nowhere near their league. And for all the derogatory sneers at chicklit, mastering a convincing plotline and writing about romance is a tough gig.
But if I don't give it a go, I'll never know. So here's to a future where I'll be keeping you fellow bloggers company on a more regular basis come September.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
18) SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE
So, my three night shifts are over this week but I reckon I'm still about 10 hours behind on the sleepstakes. Calulating things like that become an obsession when you've done a few overnights but not quite fully changed over your bodyclock because school picks ups/swimminglessons/cubs etc get in the way of full daytime sleeps.
Anyhow, it's the weekend. Time to catch up. My husband's away at his brother's and, to be honest, I'm going to enjoy sleeping right across the middle of the bed and not being disturbed by his coughing, fidgeting and compulsory early-rising. (I mean the waking up kind, before you get any other ideas!)
In between watching the "baie lekker" world cup coverage, going to the village fete, tennis lessons, the Saturday morning park run and trying to get my new telly to do its new-fangled online thing, there'll be lots of relaxing. I hope. Once I've sorted out the telly. You can get YouTube on it and everything - hence it's purchase in the first place - but our wifi signal seems to be either very weak or non-existent. And playing with technology is not my kind of fun when I'm short on zeds.
Nor is listening to my two beloved offspring constantly bicker. Here's where you come in, lovely reader/follower/browser/lurker. How do I stop them from picking on each other just for the mean-hearted pleasure of observing the other one lose it and get into trouble?
For background, they are very bright, healthy, energetic, football and book-loving boys aged nine and seven. We moved house in March and they now share a bedroom but it's a decent size and they each have their own half, more or less. I know #1 son actually finds some comfort in having someone else in the room with him, though he won't admit it, and #2 son idolises big bro so he's happy. But is sharing a room breeding contempt? Their baiting game seems to have spiralled ever since they moved in together. I suppose that as I relish some me-time, I can relate to that. But we want a spare room so I can blog here and put up family and friends without too much of a squash.
The usual pattern is for #1 son to make sarcastic or repetitive comments to his brother so that #2 loses his rag, hits #1 and gets told off for it. So the telling off has to stop if he's been provoked I suppose, but I'm trying to teach him to use words not fists, so how will that help?
Obviously, I try and reason with the elder boy but he's going through a very rebellious 'I'll do what I like' phase mingled with a "You don't understand Mum!" that I desperately want to nip in the bud before the dreaded teen years catch up with us. I've even emailed him as he's just got an email account so loves to see if there's a boldening of his Inbox sign when he logs in. There, I can message him at my leisure and with reasoning, appealing to the caring side of his nature.
I sometimes think that if I'd had three children rather than two, at least they'd have a distraction, but as the youngest of three himself, my husband was adamant that someone would always be picked on or left out and that would be awful. So it didn't happen. The boys have got plenty of friends. Just not that nearby.
Of course, there's also the parental guilt about what I've done to create two boys that don't get on that well all the time. Did I argue with my husband in front of them once too often? Are they imitating my occasionally sarcastic turn-of-phrase? They seem to ignore each other most of the time, but there are flashpoints in the day - like when my back is turned or I leave them sitting next to each other in the car for five minutes - when things go awry.
And I am too soft. I can't believe I got talked into buying not only four sets of Match Attax cards but also a football magazine and a comic, when we'd just discussed a new monthly pocket money regime for them so this should come out of their pocket, not mine.
This last half hour has been bliss as #2 son is glued to the new not-quite-all-working telly and #1 son has been at football training. Peace reigns. Meanwhile, I'd better batten down the hatches before everyone's home. At least our yelling at each other is revenge on the neighbours who kept me awake the other day with their noisy kitchen extension bangings about. Always a silver lining!
Anyhow, it's the weekend. Time to catch up. My husband's away at his brother's and, to be honest, I'm going to enjoy sleeping right across the middle of the bed and not being disturbed by his coughing, fidgeting and compulsory early-rising. (I mean the waking up kind, before you get any other ideas!)
In between watching the "baie lekker" world cup coverage, going to the village fete, tennis lessons, the Saturday morning park run and trying to get my new telly to do its new-fangled online thing, there'll be lots of relaxing. I hope. Once I've sorted out the telly. You can get YouTube on it and everything - hence it's purchase in the first place - but our wifi signal seems to be either very weak or non-existent. And playing with technology is not my kind of fun when I'm short on zeds.
Nor is listening to my two beloved offspring constantly bicker. Here's where you come in, lovely reader/follower/browser/lurker. How do I stop them from picking on each other just for the mean-hearted pleasure of observing the other one lose it and get into trouble?
For background, they are very bright, healthy, energetic, football and book-loving boys aged nine and seven. We moved house in March and they now share a bedroom but it's a decent size and they each have their own half, more or less. I know #1 son actually finds some comfort in having someone else in the room with him, though he won't admit it, and #2 son idolises big bro so he's happy. But is sharing a room breeding contempt? Their baiting game seems to have spiralled ever since they moved in together. I suppose that as I relish some me-time, I can relate to that. But we want a spare room so I can blog here and put up family and friends without too much of a squash.
The usual pattern is for #1 son to make sarcastic or repetitive comments to his brother so that #2 loses his rag, hits #1 and gets told off for it. So the telling off has to stop if he's been provoked I suppose, but I'm trying to teach him to use words not fists, so how will that help?
Obviously, I try and reason with the elder boy but he's going through a very rebellious 'I'll do what I like' phase mingled with a "You don't understand Mum!" that I desperately want to nip in the bud before the dreaded teen years catch up with us. I've even emailed him as he's just got an email account so loves to see if there's a boldening of his Inbox sign when he logs in. There, I can message him at my leisure and with reasoning, appealing to the caring side of his nature.
I sometimes think that if I'd had three children rather than two, at least they'd have a distraction, but as the youngest of three himself, my husband was adamant that someone would always be picked on or left out and that would be awful. So it didn't happen. The boys have got plenty of friends. Just not that nearby.
Of course, there's also the parental guilt about what I've done to create two boys that don't get on that well all the time. Did I argue with my husband in front of them once too often? Are they imitating my occasionally sarcastic turn-of-phrase? They seem to ignore each other most of the time, but there are flashpoints in the day - like when my back is turned or I leave them sitting next to each other in the car for five minutes - when things go awry.
And I am too soft. I can't believe I got talked into buying not only four sets of Match Attax cards but also a football magazine and a comic, when we'd just discussed a new monthly pocket money regime for them so this should come out of their pocket, not mine.
This last half hour has been bliss as #2 son is glued to the new not-quite-all-working telly and #1 son has been at football training. Peace reigns. Meanwhile, I'd better batten down the hatches before everyone's home. At least our yelling at each other is revenge on the neighbours who kept me awake the other day with their noisy kitchen extension bangings about. Always a silver lining!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
17) INSOMNIA
It’s 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning and I’m up! In my household, this is unheard of. I’m always the last to rise, partly through laziness and partly because I use the excuse of doing occasional night shifts as a reason to ‘need to catch up’ or prepare myself for the next one. I used to get insomnia quite often but sheer exhaustion seemed to have put paid to it. I used to enjoy it occasionally, as it was always the best time to write. But my worry now is that after a gloriously sunny half term break, I can feel the banished eye-bags I gained evaporating before my still-tired eyes.
Maybe it’s because I didn’t take my usual combination of antihistamines last night. They’ve been keeping me from an existence that would otherwise involve conversations staccatoed with sneezes, with a nose pouring like Victoria Falls and the most un-get-at-able itch at the back of the throat. It really is the most harmless but irritating of conditions and the doctor won’t give me the cure-all antihistamine jab I had during my school exams – something about side effects. So each year I sprinkle pollen on my cereal or try to source local honey & tinker with tinctures on the ‘natural remedy’ shelves, and then resort to a combination of proper pills. But they always make me dopey, despite the promised ‘non-drowsy’ label on the packet and especially when combined with the odd seasonal spritzer or Pimms… But last night I forgot.
Well, the pills are still packed somewhere as we’ve been away for a few days. So maybe it’s because it’s been so warm lately and we’ve got all the windows open. I’m also pre-occupied with the fact we now have just one day of the holiday left to do some promised jobs around the house: treat the decking outside, paint the chalk wall onto the chimney breast in the boys’ bedroom, dismantle the spare, oversized, double bed in preparation for the new single but stackable ones that are due to be delivered later this week and clear away yet more stuff into the garage.
Or maybe it’s because I went to bed spellbound by Spelbound’s performance on Britain’s Got Talent last night. They may not be able to spell (I expect there’s a trademark reason why they can’t have Spellbound as their title - oh, I just found out it's because tey're from Spelthorne) but boy can they gymnasticate! And the suggestion that they might open the London 2012 Olympic games ceremony made me quite proud to be British. My only talent is flaring my nostrils but what a great show a ‘Best of…’ BGT would be!
But perhaps it’s because I’m processing all the things we did over half term – visiting Legoland with friends we haven’t seen for two years and then having them round for a rowdy takeaway. We agreed that the best part of Legoland was Miniland, where someone or some people have spent hours building replica cities out of Lego pieces with incredible patience. The same theme emerged when we traveled to Lancashire to visit relatives, and a part of the country, that we visit far too infrequently.
One of the places we explored there was a stately home owned by the Gillow family who were renowned furniture makers. The tour guide told us that part of the lure of a Gillow piece was that it always had an extra use or a secret function. So a sewing storage unit would be made of sandalwood to keep moths away from the fabric and had secret drawers in it. A children’s games table had a reversible lid on it for chess or chequers. The dining room table was the first ever telescopic design, so it could be altered to seat 22 rather than 10. The card table was hexagonal with fold-down flaps to push down, indicating that you were out of the game. And the wood, usually mahogany, was always beautifully turned with ornate legs and designs. I reckon if Richard Gillow visited our plasticized, disposable Tesco-filled homes these days, he’d be horrified.
Talking of the environment, what about the oil that’s still gushing into the Atlantic? It’s been leaking for nearly six weeks now. Seeing the television pictures of oiled sea birds is horrifying. How much pollution can one ocean take before the whole seafood chain becomes poisoned?
So if we could just solve that problem, cure the common cold and hay fever, get together with friends and family more often, practice our obesity-busting flick-flacks and use our design skills to better effect, the world would be a better place - and I could get some sleep.
But I’m off to get the Sunday papers now so I’m sure that will generate more food for thought!
Maybe it’s because I didn’t take my usual combination of antihistamines last night. They’ve been keeping me from an existence that would otherwise involve conversations staccatoed with sneezes, with a nose pouring like Victoria Falls and the most un-get-at-able itch at the back of the throat. It really is the most harmless but irritating of conditions and the doctor won’t give me the cure-all antihistamine jab I had during my school exams – something about side effects. So each year I sprinkle pollen on my cereal or try to source local honey & tinker with tinctures on the ‘natural remedy’ shelves, and then resort to a combination of proper pills. But they always make me dopey, despite the promised ‘non-drowsy’ label on the packet and especially when combined with the odd seasonal spritzer or Pimms… But last night I forgot.
Well, the pills are still packed somewhere as we’ve been away for a few days. So maybe it’s because it’s been so warm lately and we’ve got all the windows open. I’m also pre-occupied with the fact we now have just one day of the holiday left to do some promised jobs around the house: treat the decking outside, paint the chalk wall onto the chimney breast in the boys’ bedroom, dismantle the spare, oversized, double bed in preparation for the new single but stackable ones that are due to be delivered later this week and clear away yet more stuff into the garage.
Or maybe it’s because I went to bed spellbound by Spelbound’s performance on Britain’s Got Talent last night. They may not be able to spell (I expect there’s a trademark reason why they can’t have Spellbound as their title - oh, I just found out it's because tey're from Spelthorne) but boy can they gymnasticate! And the suggestion that they might open the London 2012 Olympic games ceremony made me quite proud to be British. My only talent is flaring my nostrils but what a great show a ‘Best of…’ BGT would be!
But perhaps it’s because I’m processing all the things we did over half term – visiting Legoland with friends we haven’t seen for two years and then having them round for a rowdy takeaway. We agreed that the best part of Legoland was Miniland, where someone or some people have spent hours building replica cities out of Lego pieces with incredible patience. The same theme emerged when we traveled to Lancashire to visit relatives, and a part of the country, that we visit far too infrequently.
One of the places we explored there was a stately home owned by the Gillow family who were renowned furniture makers. The tour guide told us that part of the lure of a Gillow piece was that it always had an extra use or a secret function. So a sewing storage unit would be made of sandalwood to keep moths away from the fabric and had secret drawers in it. A children’s games table had a reversible lid on it for chess or chequers. The dining room table was the first ever telescopic design, so it could be altered to seat 22 rather than 10. The card table was hexagonal with fold-down flaps to push down, indicating that you were out of the game. And the wood, usually mahogany, was always beautifully turned with ornate legs and designs. I reckon if Richard Gillow visited our plasticized, disposable Tesco-filled homes these days, he’d be horrified.
Talking of the environment, what about the oil that’s still gushing into the Atlantic? It’s been leaking for nearly six weeks now. Seeing the television pictures of oiled sea birds is horrifying. How much pollution can one ocean take before the whole seafood chain becomes poisoned?
So if we could just solve that problem, cure the common cold and hay fever, get together with friends and family more often, practice our obesity-busting flick-flacks and use our design skills to better effect, the world would be a better place - and I could get some sleep.
But I’m off to get the Sunday papers now so I’m sure that will generate more food for thought!
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