Rats to rejection

I never told the whole story about the park visit yesterday. Evie (one of my 4 year old twin girls) suffered rejection for the first time in her tiny little life! From a boy! Milan (Antonia’s little 2 [almost 3] year old), was taken under the wings of Evie and Marley (my twins), and they showed him the slide, sat next to him on the swings and played monsters with him. At one point, Milan reached up towards Marley’s hand and held it as they started to walk to the big slide together. Evie noticed this, and ran over, holding out her hand towards Milan. Neither Milan nor Marley noticed her, and they continued on their quest towards the slide eagerly. Evie froze. She slowly turned around towards us adults and her lip quivered, her shoulders shook and her forehead became a little furrow of lines, “Milan won’t hold my hand!” She cried. I gently explained that they didn’t see her there, but you could see she felt rejected and alone. They all went on the slide, and Marley, being sensitive and kind, said they would wait for Evie, but her and Milan accidentally went down the slide without her. Poor Evie was left heartbroken and desperate. I had to tell her to play it cool! “Play hard to get Evie!”

I also haven’t mentioned what happened last night yet have I? Ugh, make sure you are not eating food of any kind!
On my way to work, I noticed a lady rummaging through the bin at the tram stop, and she didn’t even stop when I arrived to buy my ticket. I was quite taken aback with this. At first I thought perhaps this lady had dropped something in the bin, and then I realised I’ve seen this girl doing the same thing before. She’s a known drug addict around these parts, and she was desperately raking through. Goodness knows what she was trying to find. Food? Money? Drugs? A ticket someone has accidentally thrown away?

Then, on the way home from work, I was waiting at the tram stop, alongside a goth who was heavily engrossed in his ipod and his book, and alongside an elderly gentleman, who, to be honest, I was surprised to see out and about at that time of night on his own… I wonder if he thought the same thing about me? Anyway, there I was standing on the platform, when I saw something move quite quickly on the other side of the platform… it was huge, so my first thought was “wow, squirrels are staying up later these days!”, until I realised the tail was far from bushy, and it was indeed no squirrel. It was a RAT! I pointed it out to the elderly gentleman, and we watched it together for a few minutes as it scrambled about hunting for food, and sniffed the shelter for clues. Suddenly it darted off super-fast, and a girl came walking along. We both hoped that the rat didn’t come back and frighten the poor girl! It was a lovely shared moment, and for the first time in ages, despite the rat which had made my hair stand on end, and my skin crawl, I felt safe.

And the rate today is $1.904 to the £

Oh dear. Tonight at work has been a bit of a nightmare. I served several customers, as did my colleague Francis, yet one of us has made a mistake. I kind of think it was me, but I can’t be 100% sure. One of us, has given a customer £200 worth of Euros instead of £200 worth of US Dollars. Oops. This means a loss of around £92, and it also meant the Euro was 380 down tonight, and the Dollar was 380 over when cashing up the till.

I am not concerned about repurcussions, as far as I’m aware this is the first big mistake I have made, and people do far worse, however, I am more concerned if it was the nice lady who I think I served this amount to (when tracking through the system tonight trying to find out where we went wrong), and she gets to the airport and panics because she realises she has got the wrong currency. I only hope when she changes it back to US Dollars, she realises she’ll get far more than what she paid for and it will be a nice little bonus after her moments of panic. Hopefully this will make up for the fact that she’ll be in a different country with the wrong money and panicking. Oh dear.

In other news, today one of my best friends Louisa came over with her sister Antonia, and Antonia’s little boys of 2 and 4 months. We spent ages at the park playing houses and monsters with the kids, and whilst there, I discovered the wonder that is the little corner shop being open all of a sudden. This made me very happy at the prospect of not having to part with my money at greedy Tesco, and instead, parting with it at a little family-run corner shop where it’s more needed. I was feeling quite broody, and didn’t want them to go home, but the time had come for me to go to work, so I kind of had to shoo them out, which I felt terrible about. We had to force the 2 year old to give goodbye kisses to Evie and Marley, but he came round in the end, in fact as he was running towards Marley to kiss her goodbye, his little trousers fell down, which was hilarious! It was like all of a sudden, not only would he kiss her, but he was going to flash her as well! We were in hysterics!

Tomorrow I am back at the primary school. I really don’t want to go. I want the day to myself, is that selfish of me? Or just normal? I’ve always wanted to be able to afford the time to volunteer somewhere, but I’m not sure I’m cut out to be volunteering at this school. Maybe I’ll go again in the morning and all will be brilliant. That remains to be seen, and I kind of doubt it.

Bride-zilla

So, further to my earlier post in which I displayed the most gorgeous dress from Dolly Couture, I contacted her. Yes, I know, I haven’t even set a date for the wedding yet, but the dress is one of the most important bits is it not? Hehe. I emailed with questions about bridesmaids dresses, and sash and petticoat colours, and I felt silly to do so, especially so early in my wedding “cycle” (is there such a thing?), but I just had to know. I need it organised in my head, even if it’s not actually in my hands, or on my body (which should hopefully be a smaller body by the time it is on it), and then I don’t have to search through loads and loads of bridal boutiques for the perfect dress. I’ve found it!
Anyway, Dolly is lovely. So friendly and helpful, and I was so happy to hear that the answers to all of my questions were all yes’s! So, it looks like Dolly it is, and I couldn’t be happier with that.

This evening we have all returned back from a night in Hull. We really weren’t too stoked about having to go, but it was Al’s Aunty and Uncle’s 40th wedding anniversary meal, and we kind of felt we had to. It actually turned out to be gorgeous. The company were all very pleasant, the food was delightful, I drank far too much Sauvignon for one body to handle and topped it off with Bollinger (dahhhling!), and my head told me quite frankly this morning, that I had a good night. The children behaved impeccably at Krista’s for her and John, and then this morning, we went to my pa’s whilst Alex went to practise drumming with Tough Chicago Cop. We spent the day there, and he was relaxed and fun. However, I am now home, I have watched American Idol (why can’t I stop myself from watching this kind of crap?), and I am now whacked.

Now, I am going to watch the rest of The Wedding Crashers to see what the weddings are all like. Yes, I have turned into one of those really annoying obsessed brides-to-be. I hate myself.

If you think education is expensive, try ignorance.

Ooh, where to begin. I’ve got so much to write about from the last few days. Yesterday, I started my volunteering at a primary school. The school is lovely, the kids are great, but I’m not sure about some of the staff. They seem to do their job well, but I am not sure about how they treat their colleagues, or should I say their volunteers, who are there for free, just to see if they like it, and just to offer a helping hand. They (I say they, I actually mean me, because as far as I know, I’m the only volunteer there.) are not getting paid, they are still not CRB checked yet, but still expected on their first day there to know exactly what to do (how to do the school prayer in sign language?), and still expected to help tiny little tots get changed for PE. All well and good, but if it was my children, and there was a stranger in the class helping, I’d quite like to know who the stranger was. I would also expect that the teacher would introduce this stranger to the children; a) to avoid them being distracted in the wondering of who I was, and b) to make them feel comfortable about my presence in the classroom. NONE OF THIS HAPPENED!
Instead, I was left sitting there, unintroduced, un-spoken-a-word-to by the teachers and some of the classroom assistants, (although one of them was nice and down to earth), and unhappy! I just can’t understand why, when I’ve given up the only free day I have in the week, without the kids and without work to go to (but I still have to go to work on the evening), that they seemed so ungrateful and so mean. One of the classroom assistants was just horrible to the children, and I just feel glad that my children will not be going to that school. Well, maybe not horrible, maybe I just haven’t hardened to naughty, cheeky little 5 and 6 year olds yet. Maybe she’s an excellent classroom assistant and very good at her job, but I just caught her on a bad day. Anyway, it made me decide that I don’t want to be a classroom or teaching assistant. I want to be the actual teacher. So, because of this, I went online and registered with the Open University to do English Language and Literature in September. God knows how I’m going to afford to pay for it, I may have to defer until the February when I’ll be back into the swing of full-time work by then, but at least it’s a step in the right direction, and it’s something I have wanted to do for such a long time, and also something I know I will enjoy despite the self-discipline and hard work.

Talking of work, my own work is driving me insane. Me and my colleague have both been discussing how draining it is working evenings, and how old we feel. I am always tired, I always want to sleep in (but can’t), and I hate hate hate having to travel home on a night time. I keep telling myself “only 7 more months, then I can go back to working normal hours”, but I’ve only been doing it for 2 months (although I am 100% sure it’s been longer than that, it’s certainly felt longer), and that has dragged, and I’ve hated every minute of it, well, every minute of the travelling, not the actual job which is okay.
I just wonder when money became more important than personal safety, when did I cross that line? We do need the money, 7 months of paying 3 days of nursery fees which was double my wages put us in this mess. If only we’d have thought it through properly and checked out all of the options thoroughly before I committed them to the nursery and committed myself to my previous job. If we’d done all of that, we’d probably be okay now, even without me working – we would’ve been okay. So yes, we do need the money, but at what cost?
Basically, I can’t wait to be working daytimes again.

Oh, wedding dress news! I knew there was something. I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS! I have found a website in the US, called Dolly Couture – http://www.dollycouture.net/pb/wp_94fc7dcf/wp_94fc7dcf.html and I am sOOOOO happy! They are just like Candy Anthony dresses at like a 10th of the price, although I would still need to sort out shipping and customs taxes etc. to the UK, but check out this dress.

This is what I want, but with the black underskirts and the black sash a la Candy style! And a mere snip at just $299 ready to wear (so around about £160 ish). It means I may still need some kind of seamstress to sort out fitting it etc. but WOW-WEEEEEEE!

Windy Words

Today has been an unusually windy day. I got the kids all ready for our nightly trip to The Trafford Centre, where they get picked up by Alex on his way home from work, and I toddle off to work. They had their hats on, their big warm coats and their little handbags with a couple of sweets in to try and keep them awake. Parenting has a lot to do with bribery. Stickers don’t cut it on a bus like they do at the dinner table.

So, we got to Stretford and stood waiting for our bus to come along, when suddenly the wind picked up and almost blew us all away, well, I say “us”, I think I meant “them”, because there is no way the wind could blow me anywhere – the New Year diet is…. erm…. well let’s just say it’s not going so well.

Evie whimpered a little and said she wanted to be at home, and Marley was silent, which I thought was unusual, but when asked if she was okay, she nodded and seemed content, despite the gusts.

We played our usual game of eye spy on the bus, and then off I went to work once they were safely bundled into Alex’s car.

I got home tonight and told Alex how I felt bad that I had to drag them out in the wind, but we don’t really have a choice at the moment. He chuckled a little bit and said that Marley told him the following:

“I tried to talk to Mummy, but the wind blew my words away”. I cried!

A day to remember

Sometimes I sit and wonder what I would’ve been doing this time so many years ago. I remember back to times when my sister and I used to go up to Scotland for our summer holidays. They were always good times, back then, when I was obsessed with buying fashion and beauty magazines, back when I could get away with short skirts and flirting endlessly with the Scottish boys. I remember staying with my Aunty and being allowed to stay up until 2, 3 or even 4am talking about spirits, having takeaways and discussing other family members. At a really young age we would do the same visit almost every year during the summer but instead of staying with my Aunty, we would stay with my Nana and my Papa; my dad’s parents. My Nana used to tuck us right in the big double bed that my sister and I shared, with a million blankets, and shove a hot water bottle or two in with us to keep us from getting cold in the night. During the day, my Papa would lay on the floor in the living room on his front, with his grandad glasses on reading his newspaper or his magazine, which I am sure was called Journey’s Friend. His dog Bunty would be laid on his back, peeking over at his paper, or just guarding him from us kids who she thought were some kind of threat to her Master. Once Nana and Papa moved into a bungalow and began to obviously age, there was no longer any room for us, so we stayed at my Aunty’s house down the road. I missed the Coco Pops for supper, and my Nana telling me whenever I refused any food how fresh it was, as if that would change my mind. I don’t recall my Papa actually saying a lot. He was a man of few words, but he was passionate when he did speak. Despite his history as a Protestant, and an active one in the Orange order as a youngster, he welcomed my Catholic mum into his family, and treated her as one of his own. They shared a special bond both being from Ireland, and he felt that connection with her. One time, just after I’d had my kidney removed, and probably the last time I ever saw him, my dad told me to show him my impressive scar across my side, which I reluctantly did, only to be met with a kind of moment from him as he shared his operation stories with me, and tales of how he had to be cut right across his middle and right down his front. On this day in 2000, he passed away. The last time I spoke with him was just after midnight on 1st January 2000 on the phone whilst at my brothers house. I’m glad he managed to see in the millenium, and I’m glad I wished him a happy new year just over 2 weeks before he went. My dad took his death incredibly hard, we all did really, and he is sadly missed. Now he has Nana with him, and Bunty and Judy (a dog he had later in life), so we know he is happy. Thank you Papa for the moments we shared, although there weren’t many, but I will never forget them.

You’ve got the fear

One of the reasons why I don’t take my ipod to listen to on the way to and from work is because a) on the way there I have the kids with me, and they like to talk. In fact, they love to talk, plus by the time I leave for work, they are starting to feel weary and sleepy after a hard day playing with their play-mobil or painting piggy-banks, so I need to be available to chat and play eye-spy with them, and b) because on the way home from 10:30pm, I like to be able to hear if anyone is behind me, and just generally have my wits about me.

Last night’s journey home proved to be the scariest I’ve had so far. Usually, when I get to Stretford tram stop, there are just half a handful of people about. Maybe one going the same way as me, and a couple on the other side. During the start of the week, (the Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays), I have noticed it’s quieter, and sometimes I find myself sat at the tram stop waiting alone for my tram to come along and whisk me home. Last night was one of these nights. On my side of the platform was me, and me alone. Opposite, going in the other direction, there were 2 men, who appeared to not be together, but both decided not to get on the tram when it stopped. One of them, a scruffy looking youngster (I so sound old!), noticed me on my own on the other side of the tracks, and moved so that he was directly facing me and glared. I tried not to look across, and reached into my pocket to hold my mobile. Within seconds, he darted up the steps to the road, and started to cross the bridge which leads over the tracks to the steps coming down to my platform. As soon as he started running up the steps, I texted Alex “Sing me” which was supposed to read “Ring me”, but my nerves and haste cocked it up. I immediately got a failure message saying I didn’t have enough credit! I tried to ring him and nothing. By this point, I had thought that I’d have to use the last few quid in my bank account and top up, so started to call the top up line. The guy was stood at the top of the stairs looking down at me. I was shaking, my adrenaline was pumping so hard I felt like my heart was going to bounce out of my chest and boing boing boing all the way over onto the tracks. Just as suddenly as he had run over, he ran back again to his own side, and laid on the bench, singing nonsense loudly. At this point, I thanked my coat for making me look pregnant, because I had a feeling that’s what had stopped him and sent him back, but I couldn’t say for sure. After a few minutes, an older man with a lovely Irish accent and his son arrived, and I immediately felt so much safer.

Tonight, I left 5 minutes earlier so that I could make the earlier bus when there tends to be people around, and felt a lot safer, but I am now dreading the summer when I could be stuck at work a lot later. As I am about to extend my hours, I’ve decided I am going to use the extra money for driving lessons, because I can’t bear the thought of feeling on edge every single night. I’d rather be skint!

Sad news

Yesterday I received a call from my mother. Nothing strange there you might think, but we don’t speak as often as we should lately, and I always worry something is wrong. Thankfully, nothing was wrong, well nothing to do with my direct family or even distant relatives, but she did have news to share, and it wasn’t the best news to hear.

She has always kept me up to date with what my ex-boyfriend Darren is up to in his life. I have to admit, I am interested, but only because we shared 6+ years together, and although the love died a long time ago, I do still like to know how he and his family are all doing. Well, recently Darren and his girlfriend (or partner? fiancee? these details I don’t know) had a little girl, and I was so happy for them. Having had my own two wonderous delights, I knew how it felt to be a parent, and I knew it would be something Darren would be good at, especially, without meaning to sound harsh, as one of the reasons I finished things was due to his incessant need to try and parent me! So, his mother and father had their first grandchild, and all was sweet and dandy for them. However, my mum told me yesterday that Darren’s dad has recently discovered he has cancer of the bowel, meaning treatments and chemotherapy and all kinds of nasty things. My heart sank for him, and for the rest of the family. I’m no longer in touch with any of them, but I think about them from time to time, and I only hope they are all strong enough to get through this together.

On top of all this, my mum also told me that a girl I knew from school had been found dead in her flat alongside her boyfriend. This girl, Claire had a sister who was in my year at school, and a sister who was in my sister’s year at school, so we knew her reasonably well at one point. She had young children (I’m not sure how many, or ages – again my mum didn’t have the nitty-gritty details), and they have been left without a mother. I understand that it was drugs related, which didn’t surprise me as I had heard about her past, but it shocked my sister, as she thought she had sorted herself out. Again, I hope their family can pull together at this awful time and see strength.

So, that’s me, all miserable and sad, but I do have an appointment with a headmistress today, so life’s not completely dull. Hopefully this will help me on my way to some kind of reasonable career instead of being stuck in dead-end jobs for however long is left of it, because let’s face it….. none of us ever know.

Keeping the demons at bay.

For weeks now, I have noticed that my strange next door neighbours (nicknamed John and Yoko, simply because they look like what John Lennon would, and what Yoko Ono does, look like now) have had several bulbs of garlic dangling precariously outside their back door. For these few weeks, I have been wondering and making a mental note to google the reasons why they could be doing this strange thing.

Today, finally, I remembered to look it up. There are several reasons for this weird practice. The first being simply, to dry out the garlic so that it’s ready for use, especially if it’s home-grown, which I highly doubt it is, due to the Tesco tag which waves at me on a daily basis. The other main reason is to ward off evil spirits. I find this a bit odd. Is their house haunted? Do they regularly, or have they in the past, had visits from evil spirits in their cosy little terrace?

Next time Yoko comes round to help us dispose of the cardboard in our back garden, I am going to ask her. The problem is, I don’t think she likes us anymore, as she hasn’t come round to help get rid of any cardboard for months, and only speaks to the kids if we see her out and about. The reasons for her not liking us? It’s about as much of a mystery as the reasons for the hanging garlic were, but Google will not provide answers. We’re not noisy, the kids can be, but she seems to like them. We don’t have wild parties, much to my chegrin, and we don’t pester them for anything. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe she wanted more involvement in our life.

Or maybe, we’re the evil spirits she’s trying to keep away.

Once upon a fairytale….

Candy Anthony is my new hero! Her dresses are beautiful, and EXACTLY what I want. However, the price tags and her location are far from ideal.

We want to keep our wedding as cheap as possible, but as elegant and classy as we can make it on a budget too. Impossible? Yep, it could well be. But I WANT a Candy Anthony dress to get wed in, and I’m sad that there is no way in the world I’ll be able to afford one at £2000! So now I need an excellent seamstress in the Manchester area to re-create one of these wonders for me, but I know no-one!