Schmalentines Day!

Do you ever feel as though you’re banging your head against a brick wall and getting nowhere?
I’ve been feeling like that lately, a lot.
It appears that no matter what I say or how I feel, it is not being understood, in more ways than one, and I just feel exhausted and exasperated with trying to convey my feelings.

I sometimes wish I just didn’t have to face up to reality, that I could just be Mary Poppins, click my fingers and everything gets done for me with no qualms, no worries, no concerns and no issues.

Oh to have the simple life!

In other news, Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, my first in aaaages as a single girl, and I’m not even dreading it. Considering a few years ago on this very blog I wrote about receiving a poem about my breasts written in haste, I’m kind of glad I don’t have to be upset with anyone for not getting anything this year. And I don’t have to get anyone anything too, so it’s a win-win!

I pity those stuck in stressy relationships all worried about what to do, how to force the issue of being romantic, when really it shouldn’t just be Valentine’s Day that you show someone you love them. If you really truly do, then you should make an effort to let them know every day in one way or another.

Maybe next year I’ll change my view on this, depending on my situation, although I doubt that will change, but for now, if it makes me feel better about the lack of roses, or chocolates, or even just a simple card, then I’m sticking with it!

Chocolate, men, coffee – some things are better rich.

Today I met with a friend for “coffee”. Nothing unusal there you may think, unless you really know me, and then you’d know that I don’t actually tend to drink hot drinks. Tea and coffee are just not my bag, but occasionally I’ll have a little sniff as I meander past the Nero’s and the Starbucks of this fair city and just think to myself “mmmmmm, if only it tasted as good as it smelled”. Also, I think I was always a little bit afraid to venture into the hot drinks club for fear it spelled adulthood.

Well dear internet people of the world, today during my coffee meetup, I discovered the most beautiful, delicious mocha coffee, topped with a chocolatey, caramelly, sweetness that just enveloped my tastebuds in pure heavenly delight! And to make it even better, it came from a new independent coffee shop just down the road, rather than a huge chain that funds chopping down bits of the Amazon, or the murder of farmworkers in the deepest, darkest depths of South America.

So as I sat catching up on a few months worth of goings-on, and planning future events, I suddenly realised something – I’m now officially a grown up, and it just doesn’t feel scary anymore.
Tomorrow I may even get myself a proper coffee machine!

New Baby, New Life, New Start

My absence from here has been well and truly noted. I have missed sharing my thoughts, memories and feelings with internet strangers or family, but I have had my reasons.
So many times I have come on and written up draft after draft about what has been going on, and how I felt about it all, but never published any of it – far too much information and personal stuff to share, so please forgive me for that, but it’s been, well, emotional!

To cut a long story short, the Ballad of Sinead and Alex came to an end when Gracie was 4 weeks old. Not entirely my choice, but sometimes love dies, and sometimes you are better off without it, and I know now that I certainly am, well certainly better off without that particular version of it anyway.

It’s been 7 months (!!!!!), Gracie is AMAZING! She has been my strength, so have Evie and Marley, and I know that having them to focus on has seen me through so many terrible times. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my moments, I still do from time to time, but I no longer think about what could’ve been, or what I should’ve done or said, or what I used to have. Now I think more about my future and what I want from it, and how to go about getting it, one way or another. I still get a little angry, but that’s not about what has happened in the past anymore, it’s more about what happens from day to day, and I just cross each and every river as and when it crops up.

The last 7 months have taught me so much. I now realise how important my family are, and I also have truly discovered how totally amazing my friends are too. There are a couple in particular without whom I would’ve shed more tears, I would’ve felt much more lonely, and I would’ve had a head full of anger and thoughts desperately needing to be vented. One day as I said to one of these friends that I still had many rivers to cross, he said to me: “You do, but it’s up to you whether you struggle to wade through them alone, use a boat, or with a little help, build bridges”. Well this person has helped me to build many bridges, and even carried me across a few of them so I didn’t have to walk them alone. For that, I will always be grateful.

Next post – far less serious and depressing – I promise!

Gracie’s arrival into the big wide world!

Gracie’s Birth Story – Thursday 21.05.2009 – 07:20am – 7lbs 5oz

The first sign of anything happening was on Monday 18th May, when I woke up to feel a gush of fluid, and realised my waters had broken.
The whole day was spent waiting for the contractions to come, and seeking out every little niggly pain and ache, all amounting to nothing. I went to pick my children up from school, and the water kept coming and coming – the walking was changing the baby’s position and forcing it out!
I decided I shouldn’t really wait around for the contractions, I needed to be checked by the hospital. I called them, and they said they wanted me in to be monitored, and to check for infection etc. So Alex came home from work, and in we went.
He took the children off to get some tea, while they monitored me, and after several hours, everything seemed to be fine, so they let me go home, but with instructions to return the following day and have more monitoring of the baby’s heartbeat, and temperature checks etc.

The following day, was even worse. I was there for 6 hours, mostly just waiting around, as they seemed to be so short staffed, and as nothing had happened since the waters going (apart from more and more waters coming and coming non-stop), I was getting really upset and frustrated.
They finally let me go at around 8pm, and I cried to the midwife when she said I’d need to be back the following day again. She took me to the desk and found the registrar, and she asked him the following “Please can you consider this poor poor lady for acceleration of labour tomorrow?” He confirmed he was happy to consider me for this, but it would all depend on their workload the following day, and who was in charge as well.
It made me more positive about going back the next day, and I felt a bit better.

During that night, I started waking up around every half an hour with tightenings which turned into pains, and as I got to Wednesday morning, they were coming around every 25-20 minutes and getting slightly worse, although still bearable.
I sent Alex to work, took the kids to school, told him I’d let him know when I needed him, and decided to ride it out as much as I could.
I went to the hospital on the bus, and tried to cover up my wincing when each wave of pain came! Once there the contractions were showing up on the monitor, but were not very strong just yet. They decided to send me home as the Labour Ward was very busy, and they said to come back tomorrow. I had a feeling I’d be back before then.

I went home, again! The pains increased and when they were coming every 12 minutes or so, I rang my friend, Louisa, (what an absolute star she was too!) to come round, as she was going to babysit for us when it all kicked off. She came, and helped me time my pains on the computer as I bounced on my ball.
They went from 12 minutes apart down to 3-4 minutes apart within about 2 hours, so I knew things were heading in the right direction.
I rang the hospital when they got more frequent and when they were starting to become unbearable, and they said to come in.

In we went at around 10pm and were put into a room, where I was examined. After ALL that, I was only a paltry 2cms dilated! I could’ve cried. The midwife said that there was no point in me going home, as things could go quickly due to my waters already going, and they had to induce me the following day as it would’ve been 72 hours since my waters went.

So I got comfy, although not for long. Within a couple more hours, the pains were intensifying. I had some co-codomol, and tried a bath, and had to have some anti-biotic drip put in due to the waters already being broken.
Suddenly, at about 3am, I was in the bathroom doing the toilet, and couldn’t get off it, I was squealing with the pain, and Alex rushed in and called the midwife. She examined me again, put me on the monitors and said it was time to go to the Labour Ward so I could have some gas and air.

Goodness me, that stuff helped, but it made me feel like I had a man’s voice, and made me talk some rubbish too!!! Apparently at one point I was talking about some man who dances with fairies in the park. And I also just blurted out “Well that’s no good is it? He’s in Afghanistan!” I had no idea who I was talking about at that point, until Alex asked if I meant my brother, and I realised I did, although he wasn’t in Afghanistan! It was sending me potty!
Things seemed to progress quickly once I was in the birth room, and I kept trying all kinds of different positions to get comfy, but I was so restricted, as they had to keep me on the monitors. I was standing up, on all fours, laid down, and just struggling to get comfy.

As it got to the pushing stage, the midwife was telling me to hold a deep breath in, use the gas and hold it all down to push, and I kept screaming that I couldn’t do it! I kept saying “I’m SOOO tired! I can’t even open my eyes, let alone push! DRINK! GET ME A DRINK!” Poor Alex kept having to feed me water.

It felt like forever, but I actually managed to push my little girl into the world in just a 20 minute pushing stage after pretty much 3 days of slowwww labour! The feeling of utter relief when you feel her flop out of you is amazing, and impossible to describe, but as soon as she was placed onto me, and let out a cry, my heart was filled with love and devotion to her. Alex had announced the sex to me, and that was a special moment that I will cherish forever.

I tore quite badly, so had to have stitches, but the worst part of that is the first time you go to the toilet as you hesitate and hold it in so much, once you’ve done it once, it’s fine

Gracie is a little angel already, and I am completely besotted with her.
At first I said “NO MORE EVER”. I’ve since changed my mind, if we had a larger house or money for a larger house, I’d keep going and going. The pain is just a small section of the whole experience, and is so totally worth every bit.

Oops I did it again!

And again, I have deserted this blog for months on end, and neglected it whilst I’ve nurtured the growing baby in my belly instead.
I’m now into my 3rd trimester, and after spending the second not really feeling pregnant, due to having plenty of energy, and feeling good, it’s now catching back up with me, as my boobs have turned into HUGE domes, and I am getting kicked to shreds from the inside out.

I’m still at the council, don’t know if they’ll extend my contract which runs out next month, but I’m hoping they do, so that I can at least have a job to go back to one day.

I’m currently suffering with SPD, a pelvic thing, and have physio (my 2nd appointment) coming up this Friday. I’ve also got glucose in my urine, so have to have a GTT test on Friday as well. Not looking forward to that, apparently they not only stab you with needles, they make you drink a disgustingly sickly liquid to see how well you handle it – mmmmmmm.
Right, well it’s way past my bedtime. I’m only up to give the washing time to dry in the dryer. Rock and Roll or what! x

Oops!

Woah! Where have the 2 months gone?
Hmm…… what have I been up to for the last 2 months…… hmmm…. let me think….

WELL! I’ve spent much of it with my head over the toilet bowl, retching. I’ve gone off tomatoey foods, I have been more tired than I’ve ever been in my entire life, and yes, I’ve been growing a baby in my tummy.

This is why I haven’t been around, coupled with starting work full time for the council, which has been far better than I could ever have imagined it would be.

I will update you all properly when I get a chance, but the X Factor has just come on, and I cannot live without my weekly fix of guilty pleasure trashy tv (weekly has actually turned into nightly with I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here coming on lately, so weekly is a bit of a lie really!).

See you soon x

Strength personified

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO APPEAR ON 27TH SEPTEMBER 2008 – BUT FOR SOME REASON, THE SCHEDULER DID NOT WORK!

From the moment I took my first breath in the world, nah, scrap that, from the moment I was conceived if we’re going to be picky, I’ve had a special person in my life.

Someone so special that she has been there for me, regardless of differences of opinion, regardless of location, and regardless of a couple of years of rebellion (which was really a pathetic attempt at rebellion to be fair – I was too sensible most of the time!).

This person, which is probably fairly obvious, is my mum, Marie.

She has shown me considerable strength throughout her life, and she has continued to smile and laugh, despite major set-backs in life, and despite illness over the last several years.

What an inspiration!

I’m so proud of my mummy. Happy birthday x

Welcome to this wonderful world!

Say hello to Leo!

Leo was born yesterday, weighing 7lb 9.5 and is a happy healthy little boy. My sister is very proud, as is her partner Craig and Leo’s big sister Erin.

I spent yesterday in tears of joy, longing to meet him, and longing to hug my little sister who did so well to push him out so quickly, despite the pain.

Today, they are going home from hospital, and it’s this time in a baby’s life that I remember with much fondness, having been so proud to take my own babies home from the hospital. Home to mountains of gifts for small bundles, home to flowers, home to freshly knitted jumpers, and home to a new routine, or even no routine for a little while, at least until things settle, goodness me, give me a chance!

So I just wanted to wish my sister and the rest of her beautiful little family, all the very best wishes I possibly can upon her exciting adventure of returning home, but returning home with a beautiful and very special new life.

Congratulations! x

Siblings

One of my earliest memories is bringing my sister home from hospital. A little bundle of screams and joy, all wrapped together and curled up in a huge navy blue carry-cot, positioned neatly in the back of our red estate car between myself and my big brother.
I remember peering in and wondering what this would mean. How this would affect me, how it would affect our family. What this little person would bring to us all; laughter? Fun? Cuddles? Annoyance? I have to say, that unbeknown to me at this tender age of 3, this little person would bring us all of these things, and much much more.

As my sister started to become a real person, by that I mean talking, walking, pulling hair and sticking her tongue out, rather than just laying down, kicking legs and screaming, she was blonde, cute and a pest all at the same time.

She followed me around like a lost little lamb, and I took care of her as much as I could, until I’d had enough and wanted some space and some peace. Well, she talked an awful lot, there’s only so much a big sister can take!

My brother and I used to pick on her a bit, and when we played villages, we chose the important jobs, and gave my sister the rubbish job. She’d end up working as a post lady or a shopkeeper, whilst my brother would be the policeman, and I would be the teacher or the librarian, bossing her about and shutting her into the toy cupboard.

When we lived in Germany, she decided she didn’t like her knickers one day, so she threw them out of the car window on the autobahn. I stifled my giggles as much as I could as my parents told her off, and her face crumbled. From then on, I knew she would be strong. She would be able to stand up for herself, and if she didn’t like something, like her knickers for example, then you would know about it.

We were sent to Boarding School when I was 10 and she was 7, which was for the right reasons, and was really only a 3 year temporary measure. She was the youngest boarder there, and despite everyone looking out for her, and thinking she was adorable, she found it so hard to be torn away from our parents at such a young age. She needed her mummy, and I had to be very grown up and try to give her everything I could in replacement, as we were far away from our mum and dad. I hope that she thinks I did a good job now when she looks back, but it was hard, I was still really a baby myself. She cried and threw tantrums everytime the new term started, and I struggled, but tried so hard to comfort her as much as I could.

On our very first night at boarding school, as we were both in the Juniors, we all shared a dorm. As the lights went out, she asked me to give her a goodnight kiss, in the bed next to mine. I crept out of my bed and slinked over to hers, bending down and plonking a kiss on what I thought was her face. It felt cold! She was giggling away, but it was muffled. She had asked me for a kiss, and whilst I’d made my way to do so, she’d shuffled round and stuck her bottom out of the top of the quilt where her head was supposed to be! The little monkey!

Once we left the boarding school and started at a comprehensive, she faced up to bullies and nastiness daily. She would follow me and my friends around all the time, and I couldn’t shake her off. She hit one of my friends with the hoover pipe when she heard her being mean to me, and I knew then that I didn’t actually want to shake her off. She was my little sis, and I was going to cherish her forever.

She was the first to have a child out of the 3 of us. A little girl, Erin, who is now 6, and a beautiful, loving and bright little girl she’s turned out to be. Despite the fact that her marriage to Erin’s dad broke down, which I think everyone was upset about at the time, she has moved on and found love again, and is expecting her 2nd baby this month.

Today is her birthday. My little Kerry is now 28, and I can’t understand where the time has gone. It seems like yesterday when she would throw tantrums and I would hold her, stroke her hair and tell her that everything would be okay.
It feels like a week ago that I put a bookshelf up in the middle of our shared bedroom as a divider, so that she knew where she wasn’t allowed. It feels like it was just days ago when our father left our mother, and we were thrown together in a strange kind of mourning, and comforting each other, whilst trying to comfort our mum at the same time, as best as we could.

Now we live far apart, I want her to know that I cherish every moment we share together. Whether it be on an email, a phonecall, or when we actually meet up and hug once again.

Happy birthday Kezza-kins. I love you x

Bright Eyes

When I was younger I went to boarding school in Sussex. At this school, I made loads of friends who were also boarders, and who therefore were like sisters to me at the time, although the kind of sisters who I never saw during the holidays, never spent Christmas with, never remembered being born and that kind of thing.

Often, we would feel homesick, especially at night time when we’d all be settling down to try and get some sleep. These emotions would hit hardest at the start of a new term, when we had returned to our second home, and said goodbye to our real families for the next however many weeks.

I used to love singing, in fact, I still do, and I indulge in this hobby only with my kids nowadays. I don’t go to partake in karaokes anymore, and I certainly won’t be singing with The Vultures again (after seeing myself in their video finale!), so lately the singing thing has kind of taken a back burner. But back then? Well back then was a whole different ball game. After all, these people were my (fake) sisters remember, and if you can’t sing in front of your (fake) sisters, then who on earth can you sing in front of?

So I would let rip and try to cheer everyone up. The favourite number back in the days of nuns and midnight feasts, was, of course, Bright Eyes from Watership Down. Although how this cheered anyone up is beyond me, but it seemed to really work.

I would purposely try and sing it as softly as possible, gradually getting quieter and quieter, until everyone was almost asleep, and then I would stop and snuggle myself in to also try and get some shut-eye.
Everyone would say it was soothing, and I really feel like I tried to help. Whether or not this worked or not, I do not know, but right now, I wish I had a me at that age to comfortingly sing “Bright Eyes” to me until I fall asleep.