Sunday, 15 January 2017

One True Talent

It's a Tuesday afternoon and I have appeared at the school gates not once, but twice now in my quest to pick up the boys.

Yet again I have completely forgotten that they had 'singing group' after school and I'm supposed to pick them up later.

And yes, I have completely and utterly forgotten what time bloody later is, so yes, I have spent what is supposed to be otherwise awesome child-free time wrestling a crotchety toddler in and out of his car seat and frantically hunting for the bastarding bit of paper with the pick up times on which I am SURE I kept, but actually, probably chucked out with all the other 'important information' which gets barrelled in from the school on a daily basis.

I suck.

I am no good at school life mumming.

I love a good bit of admin.  I do.  I really, really do.  In fact, I love all aspects of paperwork - it makes me feel so good getting out that black biro and ticking boxes, signing forms and perfecting letters on the crisp white sheets.

It's the only time I feel like a half-decent person.

I have nice handwriting.  While I am writing something for work or school or in a group situation, I'm always very proudly rounding my letters and making sure my letters are neat and uniform.

They betray my true character (messy, unorganised bastard) and portray the best version of me - neat and diligent.

I get compliments on my writing "oh, how neat and lovely" and am pretty sure (and optimistic) that my writing will get me discovered one day and I can just do lovely writing as a profession, and everyone will know me as the lady with the gorgeous handwriting and will ask me to do all manner of important things for them.

Which I will do.  Gladly, and flawlessly, eager to share my one true talent.

(Except it's not my one true talent.  Oh no.  Through my writing they will also discover I have an eye for fine detail, am good at drawing and also have a knack for watercolour.  As time progresses, I also become famous for my man craft abilities, great cake decoration, amazing cooking skills and pretty sound general knowledge.  Oh and, I am also an amazing singer too.  "Sings like a nightingale")

So, I shall keep hand-writing the forms and filling out the letters and perfecting my swirly 'G' in the hope that it gets me noticed.  You know, by the school secretary. Of the tiny village school.

Well, you never know, right?

Dare to dream...


In the meantime, I suppose I had better to remember to fill out the bastarding school dinner forms so that middle son can leave it in his bag for another 4 weeks. 

Wednesday, 28 December 2016

What's it to you, bub? Huh?

As I write this, I'm watching my two dogs wrestle on the footstool.

One is our rescue Collie, Kimmy and the other is our new rescue pup, Dolly.

Doll is our latest addition to this crazy household, and a very welcome one too.

Taken from a field in Hungary then taken to a killing station, she was then rescued, fostered for a while, then transported to Scotland where she was fostered again before coming home with us one wintry day.

AT just 9 months old, she's been through a lot, though is settling extremely well.

She needs work - but who doesn't?

Oh, she's also very large.

A big, playful, daft lump of  a beast.

But couthie, good with the kids and a really fun (if boisterous) playmate for Kim (who, after a lot of initial WTF is this?!  is actually really enjoying having a play buddy)

Getting your second dog is a bit like having your third child, I have discovered.

People are less interested and more likely to say some not-very-nice-things inadvertently.

To your face.

Everyone is entitled to an opinion, and a lot of people feel free to use it as they wish.

"Are you mad?" Yes.  We all know the answer to this.
"Have you not got enough to deal with" That's up to me.
"Why?  Just why?" Why the hell not?  I'm handling it. What's it to you?

Well: free speech and all.  I give not a jot.  I'll let you decide if that's dog or kids they were asking about.

The older I become, the less fucks I am inclined to give about what other people think about me.  It is so very freeing.

My life, my rules.

I've recently found a new kind of courageousness which I think I would like to attribute to a loss of anxiety about what other people think about me.

Fundamentally, I am a good and honest person.  I honestly and promisedly swear that everything I do is done with good intentions.

My failings are my own and I own them completely.

I lack confidence in my abilities a lot of the time.

I feel a lot of guilt about things outwith my control.

I am hugely empathetic and this really is my downfall a lot of the time.

But I am fed up of being an emotional doormat.

So, as practiced for a few months now, I am now:

Not taking any shit.

Speaking up when it is unfair.

Speaking up when people are rude to me.

Ignoring any badness or bad feeling.

Enjoying good intentions and goodness and laughing and loving and not feeling guilty or losing sleep or worrying.

Done and done.

Now - back to watching my two hairy babies play and be happy.

Sunday, 18 December 2016

The Blethering Boys Xmas Gift Guide 2016

It's that time again!

Geez, it come around far too quickly.

My boys are at a rather tricky age this year, and I have to admit, I'm finding it difficult.

We are past the age of being able to delight with any old thing and very much into the age of more thoughtful and defining gifts, which I have to say I prefer.

I am very pleased to report that we must be having some kind of good affect on our kids through the way we conduct ourselves: already the boys have said that they don't care what they get, as long as everyone is happy and also that alongside their advent calendars this year, they would like to make a kindness jar, to enable them to do one kind deed each day.

These little glimmers of kindness and awesomeness are what make me so very proud and happy as a parent; we must be doing something right!

Like any parent, I still really want them to have what their hearts desire and this year, they have asked for tablets, so... :) We'll see what Santa brings!

The boys are really into shopping and have been browsing for gifts for others too.

We hope you enjoy our Blethering Boys 2016 Christmas Gift Guide!


You can't go wrong with a lovely set of colouring pencils, and these ones from the Bic Kids range (rrp, £2.99) make a perfect wee stocking filler for some holiday colouring.

Sweets are always a welcome additon too, with some tasty treats in these perfect stocking-sized boxes from Swizzels available in Refreshers Softies, Wham bars and Fruit Salad Softies too! Yum!

And why not investigate uber-awesome and multi-coloured Smiggle for some gorgeous pens, paper, bags, books and all-round squee! Perfect to brighten up a stocking!


Stuck for a last-minute idea for the man in your life?  

The Braun Beard Trimmer (rrp £39.99) is an ideal gift to help your man stay groomed to perfection.

A super-cool tee from RedBubble should do the trick - they have an amazing range of cool designs, niche interests and geeky goodies galore!

Or for the essential piece of man-kit, why not go for the Leatherman Tread (rrp, £139-£189.99) - the ultimate man-bracelet which doubles (triples and quadruples!) into a a multi-tool!


Disney's The Lion Guard playset (rrp £34.99) is a great gift for a wee one who loes a bit of roar-some fun!

The Leapfrop Leaping Letters (rrp£16.99) poses a great wee challenge for that niece or nephew who is just starting to learn their letters.

Of course BB8 bobblehead(rrp, £9.99) is bound to be a hit with Star Wars fans, old and young!

And the Bic Colouring Activity Set (rrp, £22) with 80 pieces, featuring Alvin and the Chipmunks is a lovely gift for that budding artist - and great value too!


Yarden Dead Sea Salts with Frankincense and rose petals (rrp, £8.99) are deliciously fragrant and make a wonderful gift to give yer maw a bit of well-earned relaxing time

Ladybird Books just keep coming up with some hilarious classics and 'The Mum' (rrp. £3.99) is one of my favourites!

Ness do some really gorgeous bags and purses and this really beautiful bag, Milly (rrp, £39.99), has a gorgeously patterned silk lining too! Cute!

The thing I got excited by the most about the VARV table lamp by IKEA (rrp £50) is the fact that it's wireless!  Waaaah! I hate wires.  This one charges via usb and then stays bright for ages, making it cool and minimalistic too. Perfect!

Of course, this year I am all about the giving and Xmas, for me, wouldn't be complete without some form of charitabel giving.  This year I am practicing what I preach and gifting via

Be sure to have a look at some of the lovely ways you can pass on the love to someone else who needs it :)

Thanks for reading the Blethering Boys 2016 gift guide. 

The boys and I would like to wish you all the very best of the season to you and yours.

Sunday, 20 November 2016

Noro very good weekend

It's been a week.

What started with Tom asking what death felt like before vomming all over the couch has ended with myself, Owen, Ethan and Dave having the worst bout of Norovirus we've ever encountered.

Here's what I have learned this week:

  • We need more bedsheets
  • We need new loo seats
  • I need to clean toilets more often
  • Having an upstairs bathroom is great
  • Having a bathroom where the sink and loo are close together is a fucking lifesaver.
  • Children are better at bouncing back from illness than adults
  • My kids can basically look after themselves when they need to
  • Cold water is amazing
  • Tea and toast after Noro is basically better than tea and toast after having a baby.

Ha!  Indeed...You really do not!

I have never been so ill in my whole life.

It's really kicked my ass.

And as per usual, after a week of cleaning up after the kids, it's yours truly who ended up with the worst bout of it.

Highlights of the week have included:

  • Dave catching two handfuls of sick from Tom
  • Owen sicking down my back
  • Poor Ethan having some truly awful poopy accidents five times in a row after he 'thought it was just a fart'
  • Me giving sage advice to Ethan about 'maybe not trusting a fart at this stage in the game' while he agreed, 'no, we shouldn't'
  • Owen not being able to trust his farts either
  • Hysterically laughing with Dave as he deals with poopy baby on the couch at 3 in the morning while I deal with the whole puke/shit-fest going on upstairs
  • Me heroically going to work after what will now be known as 'The Night of Hell' while poor Dave puked his guts up with baby and Ethan at home while Tom cheerfully went to school
  • Me coming home and laughing with everyone about how awesome my immune system is..
  • ...only to come home from picking up Tom and basically go through my own awful 'Night From Hell Mark 2: The Revenge of Noro'.
  • Cracking my nose on the toilet lid which came crashing down on me as I puked violently into the bowl while trying to work out which end I would like to be over the toilet. I now have a black eye and possibly a broken nose.
  • Spending the night on the couch with the dog who kept running away every time I moved to go to the toilet (approximately every 5 mins for about 12 hours) then being greeted like a hero upon my return.  Which is not as nice as it sounds when you feel like crap and just don't want any kind of interaction.

We are all thankfully feeling a lot better than we were.  Everyone is bloody starving now, so one of us will have to draw straws to see who wants to re-enter being an adult today and go and get supplies.

Dave is basically a hero - I have no idea how he managed at home with two kids while feeling like that.

I basically haven't spoken to him for two days because me and the loo have spent so much time getting to know each other (we are getting a new non-collapsing toilet seat).

And, I found out yesterday, ironically, it was world Toilet Day.

Someone is taking the piss.

Wednesday, 16 November 2016

Fuel for Thought

Along with our lovely wee cottage, we have adopted a real fireplace.

We stupidly didn't use it last year - due to our 'townie' fear of burning the house down and the fact that the previous owner has been burning coal rather than wood, our epic room changing (is it a dining room?  a living room?  a general purpose room?) and first year with new baby in the house, we just didn't bother.

Owen in front of our derelict fireplace last year!

Which was daft.

As soon as we cracked on with it one blustery cold evening, we began to understand how much we lost by NOT burning it last year.

It's so, so, SO lovely to have a real fire crackling away in the background.  I suppose that it is extra work, what with the cleaning of the grate etc, but on a cold night out in the sticks, it's just what you need.

We had been burning the wood from the woodshed , which wasn't the best, but anyone who has a fireplace knows that the less money spent on burning fuel, the better - after all, burning money?  Not a nice feeling.

Burning wood is nice - there's the crackle and the roar - there's also the spitting and the flaring.  You have to watch out for that!

Once it's been going for a few hours it is lovely - but it can be tricky to get going.

I was made up when the people at Lekto Wood Fuels sent me a sample of what they have to offer.

bark briquettes

Over the last couple of weeks I've been alternating my usual wood with the Birch sawdust briquettes and the Bark briquettes.

Both burn a lot longer and a lot easier than traditional wooden logs.

They smell nice too - when I took them out of the pack to store in my indoor wood pile, they smelt very fresh and lovely.  They were easy to stack too, with none of the usual splinters!

So why burn briquettes?

Here is some info I found on the lektofuels website:

  • Humidity – Briquettes are always dry. Their moisture level is only as high as 8%, while well-dried firewood comes in at 20%. This is an important factor, because the higher levels of moisture that any heating fuel contains means you feel less heat coming off the fuel. High-moisture wood fuel also burns slower and fills your flue with creosote and soot. Low-moisture briquettes are always ready to use.
  • Environmentally Friendly – Wood briquettes are eco-friendly. They are made from by-products (pure sawdust or bark) of the sawmill industry. No chemical additives or binding materials are used in their production. Briquettes are a carbon-neutral fuel. While burning with briquettes, the amount of CO2 emitted is no greater than the amount the tree absorbs during its growth cycle.
  • Reliable Product – By purchasing briquettes, you will always receive what you ordered, because the weight and quality for each package of briquettes is constant and does not vary from one package to the next. Each piece of these briquettes comes to you in the same size, weight, and shape. Each briquette has the same burning characteristics, and our customers become quite proficient at burning them.
  • Packaging – Briquettes are packed in simple, clean, transparent plastic bags. They are easy to stack and store. Briquettes require significantly less storage space than other wood fuels.
  • Ash – Briquettes produce very little ash. Their actual ash content equals around 1% from sawdust, and about 4.5% from bark. Since our briquettes are produced without adding any binding materials, the resulting ash from this product can be used as a fertilizer in your gardens.
  • Value for the Money – Briquettes are economical to use, they last longer than any firewood, they burn steadily, and they produce even, intense heat.

They were very clean to burn - the ash swept up easily and I even found I could simply add it to the soil in my garden.

There was little to no sparking AT ALL, so were great for a novice like me - they sat in the grate without any sparks or flares, making them ideal for burning when the kids were going about - I didn't have to worry about any embers jumping out (although OF COURSE I always take every precaution and have a HUGE fire-guard)

The best thing they sent me to try, along with the briquettes, were the natural firelighters.

natural firelighters

Made from sawdust and straw, and in a pellet form, they took quickly and burned for around 15 mins each, helping my fire to really get going.

Check out Lekto Wood Fuels for more info on what they provide.

Meanwhile, I wish I could provide a photo of my lovel lit fire, but I'm almost 100% sure now that Owen has managed to send my phone to landfill as I cannot find it anywhere!  I hope to rectify this situation soon, but it is driving me absolutely crazy.  It has been a month now and no sign of it whatsoever.

Ahrgh!  Kids!

Wednesday, 2 November 2016


November is upon us suddenly.

I almost can't believe it.

Next week America chooses the path of least...well...least...and the world has the potential to end.

This last couple of months has been an especially trying time at home.

And not.

We have settled into the house a lot more now - things are very gradually starting to take shape and I think we have finally gotten over the initial 'euphoria' of a new place to live and also kind of get our heads around the fact that we are staying put.

There's been a lot of decorating, work and general other shenanigans to deal with; when you have three children things are...complicated, to say the least!

Especially when one of those children is a year old and basically into absolutely everything.

Owen is great - he's the kid we really wanted and the kid we never expected too.  He's a blonde bombshell and is just adorable in basically every way (which is lucky because he's basically also destroyed anything we've ever done in this house in every way. Let's just say we need to decorate again before we finished decorating).

The other two boys have finally settled into routine and school life and have made friends (even if Tom is still clinging on for dear life to the idea that he's never going to - he has no confidence, just like his mum).

I finally registered as a childminder and have been having total panic about it ever since, too scared to advertise in case someone actually wants to take me up on it and I have to be responsible for one more kid.  Which I'm not really worried about.  But I am.


Plus the usual head stuff: Do the other parents think I'm some kind of incompetent?  They must do when they see me just trying to handle my own two crazy, loud, over-sensitive kids (are they over-sensitive or is this normal?  Oh god, what is normal?)  They must see the outside of my house and wonder what kind of a shit-show I'm running!? Surely?  Ahrgh.

Yeesh, I just feel like a terrible person all the time.  I wish there was something I could do to boost my confidence; but then I guess it's this stuff that pushes me on.  I'm never one to shy away from a challenge.

I'm doing some volunteering two nights a week too, and it's kind of great.  There's a real sense of accomplishment and I just enjoy hoping that we make a wee difference somewhere to someone who might otherwise be having a shitty time of it.

So, yeah.

No real news. Nothing exciting as of yet.

Just...head down, keep going!

Sunday, 11 September 2016

I Am The Boss Of Me and I Am #NotSorry

I've not written for a while - but that's okay.

I am only accountable to myself for my own things.  It's a new-found power which I am still trying out, but it's kind of great.

It's very liberating to understand that you, yourself are the only person who is in control of how others make you feel.

It is a really lovely thing to not give a fuck and to stop feeling guilty or worried about small scenarios or situations in in your head which otherwise clutter up your precious hours, minutes and days.

It is understanding and playing with the fine line of happiness and the things that give you back little bits of self-respect which all add up to happy.

I've just finished reading The Life changing Magic of Not Giving A Fuck and learning how to be #NotSorry.

I am a born worrier.  I have historically worried about all the little things from a very young age.

How did I control this worry?

I worried it all over in detail.  I was convinced that if I worried over it even more, in finer detail, then I could convince myself that I've worried enough about it to warrant not worrying more.

Which is a batshit waste of time.

And I am sick fed up of trying so hard and only ending up apologising for myself. It's time to move on.

I deserve not to be kept up at night worrying about what people think of me

I deserve to feel in control of my life.

I deserve to not feel obligated to obey and serve to the detriment of my own time, energy and stomach acid.

Jeez - I am fed up of feeling sick about stuff.

I may not always get things right, I might unwittingly upset people by accident, I may fuck things up from time to time, but I do it all with the best of intentions.  I work bloody hard and I'll be fucked if I am going to apologise for my failings all the time.  Everyone has them. Nobody is perfect.

Here is what I have learned by stopping the worry:

  •  It is okay to worry about the big things - life is really fucking stressful, but it's okay and healthy to acknowledge when there is problem.  It is okay to worry out loud.  It is more than okay to share the worry. Eventually the worry will pass. The problem will go. Worries come and go; this is normal.
  • It is not okay to let other people make you feel bad.  It is perfectly okay to speak up when you feel disrespected and it is more than okay to say how you feel. To the person causing harm if needs be. I am a good person and usually always, always, always am doing my best with some really good intentions and I do not deserve disrespect. #NotSorry
  • Honesty goes a long way. Can't manage something? Be honest. Don't try to cover your tracks with white lies or a huge story; just say no.  You are one person and any one person only has so much time, energy and love to give to something.  It's okay to need to stop.  It's okay to honestly admit this.
  • Mostly, any problems anyone has with you is completely theirs. Completely. And that's okay. Not your issue. Walk away, don't worry about it.  Stay nice, but don't worry about it - you can't change how others feel about you.  But still call the disrespect, because that shit is nasty. #NotSorry.
  • Try not to look to others to validate how you feel about something. If you have passion in your heart and good intentions than, fuck it. You have good intentions. #NotSorry

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

The monetized barrier...

Tom comes home with a letter from the school.

"Dear Parent,

A small number of vacancies exist for children to have lessons on violin/viola/cello...."

...stuff about commitment and practice...

...then the hard sell.

" Cost of tuition: £231 (3 instalments of £77)

Hire of instrument: £30"

Yeesh, take that right in the face.

"Lessons are free if you are in receipt of:

Income support
Job Seekers Allowance (income based)
Employment & Support Allowance (imcome related)
Child Tax Credit (with annual income of less than £16,105)
Child Tax Credit and Working Tax Credit (with annual income of less than £16,105)
Universal Credit"

That's not us.

We are just over the bracket of a sizeable enough income to exclude us from any kind of benefit, thankfully (apart from the bastarding life-saving Working Tax ones which they keep messing up, grr.  But really - thank goodness for them. Otherwise we would be homeless by now!)

But only just.

But three installments of £77?

No can do.

At the moment, that's a week's worth of shopping.  Two and a half weeks most months if I'm honest.  It's amazing how far a big bag of pasta can stretch between five and a dog.

I say: amazing, I mean: I am so fed up of pasta.

Tom came home buzzing about having tried out the cello: " I was SO good at it, mum!"

He's scanning my face to see what I'm going to say.

In his heart of hearts, he knows I'm not going to deny him access to something he is passionate about or could be really good at, so we have the conversation:

"You'd have to practice every. single. day."

"I know!"

"You'd have to perform in the school orchestra at events and stuff.  No option not to."

"I know! It'd be so cool...I've seen them do that..."

Then it crushes me - we've had to say no to so much over the last couple of years, he's unsure.  I can see in his eyes he's given up already.  He knows it's not a reality.

I'm unsure now whether it's because he's scared he's going to under-perform in some way, not be good enough or if he can see in my eyes the panic and the calculation of how and when £77x3 might come from over the next year.

When I was Tom's age, I learned the violin at school.  I did it for about 6 years and right into high school...until I suddenly had to pay for it.

See, my mum was a single parent and we just didn't have the money for stuff like that.

I was okay at the violin - I was no prodigy - but I enjoyed it.  I enjoyed the group of people who did music; I never felt like I fit in anywhere else really. I was good at Art, but Art was expensive - full of trips to Paris and expensive materials there was no way I would be able to get up the courage to ask my mum for.

Languages were all about text books and more trips abroad.  Very expensive trips abroad.

I dodged them all carefully.  I had a job, but that paid for my school uniform.  I was the kid who got EMA to get by. That's how we lived.

I guess I always assumed that when I was married and had a job and two incomes in the house that this other stuff would okay.

And it will be one day (everything crossed).

But for now, my boy will miss out.  Which is a shame.  I feel like money is the barrier to him maybe being good at music.

Maybe being a wizard at rock climbing.

Maybe being an amazing computer coder.

Maybe getting decent at football or gymnastics or something sporty enough to help him out at school with some friends.

He's not poorly off.  He has clothes that fit.  He has a roof over his head.  He has a big bloody garden to play in and gets gifts on his birthday.

Lucky, lucky, lucky.  Beyond lucky.

We have that 'work/life/balance' thing down (at last) where he spends tangible amounts of time with both parents.

We are safe, we don't live in an earthquake zone, there's no war in our streets.

He doesn't always have what he would  like to eat, but he has enough to eat.

Lucky. Lucky. So, so, lucky.

He has a lot of good things going that other kids don't.

But sometimes I feel like we are the shit in the shit sandwich, you know? We're not the end, we're not the crust but the shit in the middle.

And when he comes home yet again with something else that kids in his class are raving about doing, when he wants to go to the sports class, or try something new or do something out of the ordinary and I shrug it off with the age-old, "sorry, buddy, it's just too much.."...ahrgh, it kills me.

I feel like my kids are forced out of all this stuff.  I wish everything for kids to be accessible to all children, regardless of status.

Especially as opportunities are becoming more monetized.

It's such a shame.

I know I'm probably not harbouring the next rock star.  I'm probably not sitting on some great architect or the doctor who will cure cancer once and for all....but how do we know for sure?

What if he is the next Andy Murray?

What if he has the potential for something we cannot afford to unlock because of the monetized barriers?

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

Minding My Business

For those of you who don't know, I'm in the business of setting up as a Childminder.

With this come all of the crazy and absolutely necessary checks, detailed disclosures and policy-writing which we have come to expect in our society.  Because, you know, why let normal people get on with their every day lives and actually help each other out when it could be a prohibitive, costly and time-consuming process?

If you are wondering where British jobs went - they are here; box-ticking and writing nonsense which gets updated every few years.

Dave and I have just applied for our enhanced disclosures with, like, a bajillion forms of I.D, proofs of address and such. I have had, I think, three disclosures before, and Dave has had about six and also been registered with the Social Services Council as a care manager, but you know - that'll be another £100 please. Credit card.

My doctor has to sign me off.  Without seeing me. I haven't had a named doctor in over ten years.  That includes three troublesome pregnancies.  I could be telling them any old nonsense - 'how many units of alcohol do you drink a week?' Me: 'Oh, none, doctor!  I'm tee-total! *blush*

I'm not a raging alcoholic by any means - but who knows?  Maybe I'm sitting in my bathroom drinking two bottles of wine while the kids eat lunch (I'm not).  There's a fee for this too apparently. Puke. Credit Card.

Social services get a letter all of their own.  I have to declare that I've never hurt a child and they get to sign it and say they've never heard of me.  Again - not sure what this is supposed to prevent.  Any bona fide child abuser isn't going to tick the box and write a comment saying - 'well, actually, I am a bit of a dick to kids' while applying to actively have a job looking after them. No fee - lucky us!

The fire department have to inspect my house (which reminds me I need a fire blanket) and tell me off probably for the polystyrene ties on my ceiling which I SWEAR I'm going to get down as soon as I get a ladder.  Though they are beside our bedrooms, so really, if anyone's going to die, it will be me and Dave in the middle of the night.  We've already weighed this up with ripping out actual light fittings/discovering horrid things underneath said tiles.  The joys of old houses. Credit carding fire equipment.  Jeez, fire equipment is expensive.

There's a First Aid Course. Credit Card.

Induction to Childminding. Credit Card.

Member ship of Childminding Association. Credit Card.

And, well, I have to send off all of the policies I have written (stolen from another minder and edited) saying what I would do in any given situation, which you know, when kids are involved, is never as straight forward and text-booky as anyone would like. £28 to process this.  Credit card.

But hey, just in case...

THEN someone will get to come to my house, which no doubt Dave and I will have panic-tidied into oblivion and I will have my showhome-for-a-day, which will be nice and then IF we pass all of this we get to invite 3 whole children to come and play with my 3 kids after school and maybe for whole days occasionally.

Except at least I get paid for it.

Ha ha ha ha ha!

And probably taxed brutally for because it's a second income.


I'm just a girl, with a shit ton of bills who wants one good, steady income without any faff.

Why is this too much to ask?

Life really is like walking through treacle sometimes.

I just want a job where I get paid, can work as much as I can and need and can progress.

More and more, it feels like I'm never going to get there.

Monday, 22 August 2016

Butterfly Butterfly...

It's a wet day outside and I feel peaceful.

The baby is asleep, the dog is curled up on the sofa and the boys are at school.  Dave is at work too, so it's just me and my thoughts.

It's Monday.

I have a long working week stretching out ahead of me and my brain has been racing with so many different ideas.

I spent the weekend clearing out the garage, purging, cleansing; it felt so good.

Out with the old, in with so much possibility.

It's so exciting to make New Space.

I have so many plans.

My head feels like my garage today.

I've cleaned out some of the clutter and now tons of new ideas are whizzing through my brain.

I have so much that I want to do.

So much capability.

The mind of a creative person can be overwhelming at times.

Dave fondly calls it my 'butterfly' personality; never content with doing one thing, I like to do several things at once.  Nobody but me can see the logic in this.

I'm never content with doing one project in one go - I need to space it out, let it grow and develop.  I want the best possible outcome and sometimes the only way you can see something from every angle, is if you step away for a while and come back to it.

I usually get there eventually.

Today though, I am happy for the peace.  I am happy for the raindrops on the window and the chance to stew a little.

Even us fast-paced, over-achieving creative heads need some down time...

Oooh, look, some fabric....