The 7 year old chugger in our midst

Righto, this post is going to be a bit odd (read hypocritical) bearing in mind the last one I just uploaded but I need to get it off my chest.
Since my kid started primary school there have been quite a few times where we as parents are asked to donate money - cake sales, spring/christmas/summer fairs, magicians coming in, kids going off to plays, kids going off to museums, kids reading aloud, kids dressing up, kids growing flowers. There are even sponsorship forms for her to get more people roped in which is hard as we do not have any close friends or relatives in the town. The requests are endless. This year seems to have been particularly bad as there has been one request after another for donations. The final straw was yesterday when we found a letter in her bag asking for £6 for a Roman day - a guy is going to come in dressed like a Roman and show the kids a lot about Romans.
I am so glad we only have one child as if we had more, there is no way we could afford all these constant requests for money. And when at the teacher evening last night, we asked kiddo's teacher what happens to the kids whose parents don't pay, the teacher had no response. Which implies that they expect all the parents to pay. I know for a fact that some of the parents are struggling financially and this is pressure that they will not need. I also know it's these parents who will try their hardest to find the money.
Whilst I don't want my daughter to miss out on any activities I'm not really sure that turning her into a chugger is teaching her anything about charitable giving. For e.g. kiddo now hates all Cancer charities except McMillan as that's the one the school supports. We have tried to make her understand that is a poor view but she's adamant that that charity is the best one.
Up until now the dosh has come out of our pockets. So we are now going to start telling her the donations should come partly from her pocket money - so the next time she brings home a letter asking for a donation she will also have to cough up (and yes, I know that's ultimately us paying as we are the ones supplying the dosh but there is a lesson to be learnt here dammit). Hopefully that will open up a discussion on when it's best to give, and when it's best to just say no.

10 years...

10 years ago I was

• Single
• 6 months into a job as a designer (though my title was Research Engineer!)
• Travelling up to 3 hours a day to get to my job
• Living back in London, with Dad, saving up to buy a house
• A person with a very healthy bank balance
• A person with the freedom to do whatever the fuck I wanted
• Lonely

Today I am

• The person who cried in an office where I work part time doing a job that I wasn't hired to do, in too few hours
• A mother who resents her child who didn't ask to be born, because I gave up work for her. 

I don't know what happened. No I lie, I do know but I am still confused. I met a man, we decided we wanted a baby, he proposed, I accepted, baby got cut out by skilled doctors and life changed forever. In the last 7 years I have moved house 5 times. I hate moving house. I hated the second move out of London to be near people who didn't visit us. I hated the fourth move as I love London and had even come to love Plumstead and didn't want leave. 

Thing is we were parents who decided that one of us should stay at home with the kid while the other worked. Having grown up with two working parents, and being married to a man who had had a stay at home mum - I was convinced that it was a good choice. So we decided he would stay home, while I worked. 

Thing is I started to breastfeed and I wanted to carry on breastfeeding. But I couldn't figure out how I could do this, where I would store my milk, how I would get back to my baby should she need me if I had to commute an hour and half each way, each working day. I couldn't bear to leave her. So we changed plans, he went to work and I stayed home

Thing is Mr Plummy was made redundant and we again moved up here, over 200 miles away. The first time we lived in Scotland sucked (see 2nd move above). But this time, we moved to the shitiest place I had ever lived and I became very ill (doctors couldn't figure it out, but I think it was due to crippling loneliness).

Thing is I come from a family of women who have been let down by their husbands. My mum, my paternal grandmother and my maternal grandmother - all had husbands who let them down. The lesson was that I must never ever rely on a man, I must always work. 

Thing is I like to work. No scratch that, I need to work. I loved being one of the first girls in my family to get a degree (and the only child in my family of 3 boys and 1 girl) and after quite a few years of shite jobs, finally becoming a designer. I was so proud of myself. 

Thing is. I love my daughter. She's amazing. It wasn't always easy and there were times I locked myself in a room to stop myself yelling at her. But being with her and helping her transition through 5 house moves was important. We know we did good - teachers tell us they can tell that she has a home parent by her behaviour and command of language. Its not often a parent gets compliments, I gobble them up when they come our way.  

Thing is my husband is not like my dad or my grand-dads. 

Thing is while kiddo is at school I got bored. And that old niggle - the pride of being someone in paid employment started to really bug me

So I did a course on nutrition and started teaching small groups. But the hours weren't enough and were too few. And then there is all this conflicting evidence on what is good nutrition anyway?

So I looked for and found a part time office job. In Edinburgh. Joy was me. I'd go in and be all Mary Tyler Moore walking along Princes Street. Yes,  there were days I was bored but I would just skip off to Jenners toy and yarn departments after work and be happy. I still had the other job for the rewarding challenging stuff so it was all OK.  

Thing is my job changed because there were changes in our head office, people were shifted about and I was asked to take on a new set of duties. Ones I would never have applied to do. I hate it. I am not proud of what I do. I hate going to work and today I ended up in tears in front of one of the managers. 

I want to leave but I know at my age, I will never be given another job again. So I'm stuck. I am so ashamed that I cried. I am so frustrated that there is little opportunity to find part time work around my kid's school hours. And I'm so ashamed that I didn't stand my ground 7 years ago, and demand better conditions so that I could continue a role I was proud of. 

Thing is I love my daughter. I am so proud of who she is and have marvelled at everything she has learnt and I don't know how much I would have missed if I had been at work. 

10 years from now I plan on being in a better place than I am now. I just don't know what the fuck that will be and how the heck I will get there. But I'll be damned proud when I make it. 

Frazzled by the Fringe

This is a bit out of order...I should have written this up before but have only just calmed down enough to do it.
On Saturday 4th August we decided to visit the Fringe on the spur of the moment. My idea. Gawd knows why as I do not do well with spur of the moment. I need to plan, make sure I know where I'm going, check out the reviews, figure out the best way to get there and make sure we have supplies for the long journey ahead.
Last year we went into Edinburgh to soak up the Fringe atmosphere. Kiddo was still in a pushchair which caused some arses to comment that kids should stay at home as they get in the way.
Back to this year. I duly check out the Fringe brochure and opted for Monsters Got Talent. However, when I went to book online, I was a bit taken aback by the 90p booking fee for EACH ticket which is added on top of the credit card fee . So we decide that we will instead go in and just go to the box office for our tickets. VERY BAD mistake. A long wait in the queue with a hyper child raised my blood pressure no end.
TIP: if you pre-order tickets, don't join this queue. You can go to the Information centre and print out your tickets from electronic machines. You have to be psychic as no sign tells you this.
TIP2: do not send hubby off to a theatre on the off chance of getting tickets while you stay in the queue with hyper child.
TIP3: THIS IS A SERIOUS ONE. Before parting with any money make sure you know where the venue was. When kiddo and I got to the counter, we were too late for Monsters Got Talent. So had to find another show. Which I mentioned to the booking person (I shan't use the term assistant as that would imply she would give assistance). Quick flick through and we chose Purves Puppets Nessie the Loch Ness Monster show. £8 each. As I couldn't reach hubby on the phone I bought the tickets. Only at this point was informed that I would need to get a taxi as the venue was quite far outside of the city centre. WHY not mention that before hand especially as refunds or exchange are not allowed.
So a quick dash outside to wait for hubby then another dash to find a taxi and then a lot of stressing on my part that this spur of the moment jaunt was becoming quite costly.
The show was OK. Kiddo said she enjoyed it however, I think a lot of it was beyond her understanding. I also felt that paying that amount of money to sit in a church hall and travel so far from the Fringe main area was not. In fact for me the best part of the day was the bus ride back to town through some really pretty areas of Edinburgh.
TIP4:  AVOID THE FRINGE unless you are spontaneous and happy to go with what happens, don't mind crowds or arses, know the city very well and are willing to queue for a long, long time!

For tonight Matthew I'm going to be "That Mum"

Not THAT mum, the altogether one who happily bakes cakes, does loads of craft stuff, has a cheerful smile plastered to a her face (except when looking down on other mums, then it's the special condescending one), who drives kiddos to and fro and happily watches them at the park/softplay/swimming/crafting/friends/anywhere (delete as appropriate) and has to endure "Watch me mum, look at ME mum, mum, mum, MAMA, MUUUUUUM, mummy, mummummum" if she dares to look away for even a nano second.
I'm the well-past-midway-holiday mum who has no patience, cannot do any housework without constant interruptions, the one who has to supervise the kiddo lest she floods the house (what's the obsession with water?), has let countless cups of tea go cold, has to cope with the half a day it a takes to get kiddo out then faces the shopping trip to hell where said kiddo is so hyper that the dogs in the next county are barking.

If you are observant enough you can spot me. I'll probably be red faced with gritted teeth and crazy staring eyes. I'll no doubt be whispering promises of horrid punishments to the kiddo if she doesn't SHUT UP or CALM DOWN. If anyone who doesn't have kids tuts at me, I'm liable to run them over. I have sworn at the kiddo. Don't bother telling me that I should calm down, that it's not kiddo's fault or any of that. I know all that. But for tonight Matthew, I'm That mum. But tomorrow I'll be the other mum. The smiling one who loves her kiddo with all her heart and would die if any of the horrid things she thought today ever ever came to pass. Damn I'm gonna go give the little gal a huge hug now. Not her fault she has a nutter for a mama.

P.S. Teachers are bloody marvellous. I miss my kiddo's nursery teachers who were able to inspire her in art, drama and so many other ways. Marvellous. Why oh why did the term have to end?

Return to sender

Return to sender, address unknown

No such number, no such zone

Where ever I have lived, there has always been mail for the previous occupant. Sometimes for years. I am never quite sure what to do with it - to chuck it out, to return to sender? Then what do you write. I've honed it down to :

Return to sender, addressee unknown (sorry Elvis, had to change it).

I'm thinking of getting a stamp so I don't have to write it or print off some labels.

Here, we have the landlord's address so that's easy - a simple case of redirecting it. But the previous occupants didn't leave us their details. So I spend time writing "person unknown, return to sender" and sticking them in the mail box. 

However, as the Post Office has raised it's stamp prices ASTRONOMICALLY, I wonder who pays for the return to sender? And do the post office actually bother to do the return or do they just bin the letters. I've read that it all goes to a massive depot in Belfast to be sorted out.

We also get huge amounts of junk mail and at least 4 charity bag thingies a week. Some people put the junk mail in the pre-paid envelopes and send it back - hoping their address will be removed from the sender's database - nah I don't believe that works. So I just dump it in the recycling....so much trash created. 

And don't get me started on phone calls. At least 6 a day around 11am. Thank god for answering machines is all I can say.

What do you do? Ignore it all? Don't give a toss? Get into a furious rage? 

P.S. I know this is just a minor thing. This post was going to be a rant at the rise in stamp prices but the P.O. are doing the environment a favour - the cost of sending Xmas cards has risen so much now that we will dramatically reduce how many we send ...less cards, less trees chopped down, less fuel to make and send cards around, less paper cuts opening cards, fewer posties on the roads (?!?), win win.

My week off

I'm having a holiday from being a stay at home mum. I cannot wait and am so giddy with excitement. Apart for one night in the first week of her life where I ended up in hospital with high blood pressure, I've never spent a night away from my child. Sure there have been times when someone else has looked after her - notably when I had tonsillitis a few Xmas' ago and hubby had to look after her. But physically, I was there and she saw me every day. This will be the first real holiday I've had - I'm going home for 7 days alone without hubby or daughter.
I seriously need to recharge my batteries and to find some sense of self. I love being a mum but my god, sometimes it's the most boring job in the world. And the GUILT, no one ever tells you about the guilt that you feel when you are not feeding them right, dressing them right, taking them to the right clubs, getting them into the best school, being up on the latest parenting trends, spending every moment to play as you have to do some housework (or god forbid update your blog), letting down all woman kind cos you didn't stay in a career and chose the traditional role of stay at home parent. There are so many things you could feel about if you gave a toss. Most of the time I don't - I think we are good parents and get compliments for our little one's manners, her confidence and her intelligence.
However, after 4 years I need to step away for a bit. I need to have a conversation with an adult without being interrupted. I have to be able to go the cinema, out for dinner, A DRINK even or just catch up with old mates without thinking about getting back to pick up little one, cook dinner, do the laundry or think of a bunch of activities to fill the afternoon.  I need to be away so I can stop feeling sorry for myself and remind myself that I chose this job. I also need to think about ways that my hubby and I can reconnect as "consenting" adults rather than just parents.
I have to think of ways to supplement our income. We don't live off benefits*. We live off savings and the hubby's income. The savings are really dwindling. I know I can work but in this economy I have no sodding idea what I could do and how I could ensure it will fit around the hours that little one will be in school. Not an unique dilemma but for now, one I need to face.
I suspect I will spend a lot of time in arts/crafts shops stocking up on new activities when I am not in the yarn shop buying even more for my stash. Or in kids' shops buying new clothes, books, toys.
Most of all, I know I'm going to miss my little one and the other half as I've got the best f*****ing job in the world and work for and with two of the most remarkable human beings I know.


*I wish that I could have some of the benefits of the people on benefits without claiming the benefits. Like getting stamps cheaper at Christmas time. Or getting into see shows cheaper. Or whatever else people who live off the state get.

Making a list...

1. All presents bought and wrapped

• Check. Near 100% fandabby doozy success with online stuff. Only bad purchase was a t-shirt for yours truly that arrived in skinny size. I'm not a skinny but I got a 100% refund so no loss. I also, in supermum mode, did a quick run around the supermarket this morning for last minute bits. I was back home at 10.30 as they were relatively quiet. 

2. Food ready

• Check. We did an online shop and everything arrived. This year my sister-in-law and I are doing the veg. I can't wait as I love a freshly roasted tattie

4. Stockings done

• Check. Oh I've been in supercraft mode today making my own stocking. Its red, it's got pompoms and glitter and it's going to be filled with pre-BIG EVENT goodies! 

5. Nativity seen

• Check and check. The kids did a supercute one at nursery. And of course, my little one was the only Angel sucking her thumb but my gawd, she was cute in her outfit as were all the other little ones.
• We then went to the nativity at my husband's church. As religion is so important to his family, I want to make sure she sees what it is about before she decided herself what to believe. Again, the kids were supercute but my little one was not happy. Poor kid has ended up with a huge cold and has been miserable all week. 

6. Nursery finished

• Check. Last day of term was on Wed with a Xmas party and Santa - tot would not go anywhere near him as she tends to stay away from strangely dressed men. I was surprised when the Head got rather tearful whilst asking that each of us spends at least 5 mins a day listening and being with our children. Hubby and I spend a lot of time with my child - she's a delight as all children are if they are allowed to be. We do a lot together and I know that we are lucky that we can do so. I hope that no parents are ever too busy to spend a mere 5 mins with their kids. And if the kids are in foster care, I hope the government, social workers, potential adopters and foster carers all get it sorted out so that more than 60 out of 3600 kids are adopted next year in England - frankly, it's a disgrace as those kids have already been let down before and deserve a second chance at a great life.  

7. On the 12th day, move. 

• Well not done yet, but we are planning to move to Livingston. At the moment we are just going through reference checks which IMHO are a complete rip off. We already paid £60 each when we moved to Larbert and now we are paying £90 each as part of the move to Livingston. I never went through reference checks when I was renting in the 90s. I just had to show some paychecks and that was it. It's just another way for estate agents to rip off people and is yet another barrier to people moving to where the work is. Unfortunately, it's a damned if we do, damned if we don't. If we don't move, we will continue to spend far too much on petrol and continue to live in a place which I have not warmed to. If we move, we have to pay to move but in the long run save money and also see hubby more. And the big plus for me is that we will be that much closer to Edinburgh - yippeeeee!!!!

8. Sort out my health

• Ongoing. I haven't had any pain attacks since my trip to the hospital. I've been super careful about what I eat though I could do with exercising more. Next Wednesday, I have an ultrasound which should help find out whether I've got some stones. Sounds mad but I cannot wait as at least I'll know where I stand then and can make a positive plan to deal with it.

All in all, it's going to be a fun few weeks. I hope yours will too and that you all have a lovely jubbly Xmas. 

Wheel(s) of Freedom

This weekend, I took the car to North London to spend time with old friends and family. It was wonderful seeing them. However, I was nearly undone by the amount of traffic / roadworks on the North Circular and around Finchley/Muswell Hill. Everywhere I turned there was some guy in a dayglow jacket posturing around a hole in the road. It also struck me how claustrophobic the North of London is. The river and Commons/parks in Greenwich, and the closeness to Kent convey a sense of space that is lacking in my old neighbourhood (despite the nearness of Hampstead Heath).
I was happy to be back here after the weekend to be able to stretch out my arms without hitting a norf london resident.
We took the car as I couldn't face taking a stroller on the Underground with luggage for a long weekend - as anyone with sprogs knows, you take as much luggage for 3 days as you would for a week.
Which reminds me, I have never seen a person in a wheelchair on public transport. It's horrendous getting a stroller about, so it must be hellish if you are in a wheelchair. In fact, maybe the management of said public transport should all be forced to be in wheelchairs (or pushing a stroller) for a week just to experience how utterly shite the network is.
If the wheelchair users aren't using public transport, how are they getting out and about?

Bogus roofers in Plumstead

The police have been round to warn our street of bogus roofers. Apparently these guys spray a roof with water, then knock on the householder's door and say they were working in the area, noticed the water dripping, and then offer to fix the guttering at a high cost.
So beware.

P.S. I absolutely hate when people come to door touting for business, promoting a religion or even collecting for charity and think that it can be quite menacing having this sort of unwelcome intrusion. I've had utilities suppliers being sarky that I don't want to save money by switching to them, or charity collectors being very uncharitable. And before any assumptions are made, let me make it clear...I do donate to a number of charities that are close to my heart and that I have taken the time to research regarding their use of funds etc. And we keep an eye on utilities suppliers too.
On last night's Watchdog, Martin Lewis from the Moneysaving Expert site was on about how to beat cold callers, junk mail and unwanted calls away. I'm off now to print a massive NO COLD CALLERS sign :)

Tongue in cheek - a lesson about queues

A small post. As my first post notes, there are some appalling behaviours witnessed round these parts in shop queues.

So I was in Matalan and some lady walked in front of me in to the queue stating that that was her place and that she had just popped off to get something else. This was after I had left the queue earlier since I too had needed to get some more things.

I thought the rule was that if you left the queue, you lost your place and just had to join the end. So this got me thinking, should I be a Victor Meldrew type character and shout I don't believe it and tut loudly? Or should I print out little definitions of the word queue and laminate these. Then when someone wants to push ahead of me, I should smile sweetly and hand them a card. Or should I just let it pass like I do when I see someone who is obviously sans child park in a parent spot.

i know ...life is too short!

Hate for my first post to be a rant but I just have to say this....

Just witnessed the most atrocious behaviour in the local Asda. The shop was packed but a woman thought it's ok to leave her basket as a holder in the queue and continue shopping.

When she came back she tried to push in front of a lady with trolley and baby. There was a mass argument, the poor baby left crying as so called 'adults' shouted around her. Eventually the manager had to be called. But did the woman get evicted out of the shop???? NO. She was placated.

I'm going to avoid going to this shop in future as I don't want my tod seeing such stupid behaviour. In the run up to Xmas, someone needs to teach these stupid people how to do something as simple as queuing.