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Benefit in kind

Parkinsons is a journey rather than a destination and yesterday saw a stop off to check the map. I had a ‘voluntary’ interview to do with benefits I am claiming and I found myself coming face to face with the realisation that my working life has ended. Uncomfortable to say the least. I had a full and successful working life and losing that is hard. I know my new focus on domesticity is a more than adequate replacement but I still feel like I’ve lost a limb. Sometimes I want to shout how unfair this diagnosis is and now is one of those times. As I say, I’ve checked the map and don’t like the planned route ahead so I’d better try and plot a new course. Self help here I come, goodbye self pity. Beep!!

A really practical skill

stitch this:

Am reviving an oldie but goldie….I think every home should have a Mr Poo….

Originally posted on stitch this...:

I always knew crochet would prove itself as a true life skill. Inspired by this thread on Mumsnet (thankyou Soupdragon)  look what I made tonight…

Poo!
I am enchanted!
Pattern here
 

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The secret SAHM club….and other campfire tales

imageSo, here we are at the start of the school summer holidays. These are my first ‘proper’ holidays since I left work. It’s my first year when I’ve been truly free to do what I want (with the boys of course) and, while I am as skint as a flint, I have a good roll call of plans to work through – a bucket and spade list if you will.

I’ve ticked the first item already…I’m writing this blog sitting in a golden field, listening to the wind in the trees, drinking a cool drink and with the prospect of an hour or so’s relaxation before driving to a nearby café to meet up with The Child Whisperer, her children and my two. We are camping en famille at CW’s rural idyll and, despite having had only four hours sleep, I have had a brilliant time thus far. Elder is best buddies with CWs eldest and Little One loves her younger child – result! We had pancakes for breakfast cooked on the stove outside and she’s taken them for a yomp in the woods before ice cream at the café while I have a rest here. I take over this evening while she has a break. Perfect.

There is this hidden world of the non-waged mother…the network of contacts, the mutually supportive coffees, play dates, parties etc that allow you to look after your children through those long six weeks without losing your sanity. I never really saw it until this summer holiday loomed and friends started whipping out their diaries and booking in meets, lunches, bike rides. This year my boys will play with their friends instead of going to holiday clubs. I’m not knocking the clubs, they have served me and mine well in the past but I think I’m going to like the Wageless Wonders’ version more. Cheaper, more friendly and infinitely better coffee. What’s not to like?!

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Six weeks

 

The school doors at last are shut and locked up

The alarm clock is quiet, we won’t get up

For a while – tho’ the dawn chorus is loud, in full swing

Nor will I be running wild, packing up the school things

into bags, bleary eyed, rumpled, unironed, dishevelled.

My sleep deprivation has a hope of being levelled.

I will mooch,

I will lounge,

I will drape in the sun.

i will put on my shades and watch the boys’ fun.

Yes, I once was a wage slave

I collected my shilling

but now I am something much nicer, more fulfilling

It’s hackneyed I know but it’s also quite thrilling -

i draw and I paint and I see my boys grow

I’m learning that I have to go with the flow

so illness while scary isn’t all endless doom

tho I will never enjoy cleaning up the bathroom

My life  isn’t over it’s just changed a lot

You can’t have it all

but you can have a shot.

 

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Jammed

I sometimes feel like a sardine. Not peckish,coo I fancy sardines on toast, no, more like I’m packed in on all sides. I’m sure many of us do, I mean, what with children and other halves and siblings and work (of whatever description) and chores and hobbies and life changing emergencies we all face our little Everest every day.

This blog has suffered from my sardine moments I’m afraid. I guess it’s like an old, best, dear friend…they take the hit when all else is going to the dogs. Mainly because you know they’ll forgive you in the end and after some huffy sighs and possibly some grovelling we will all be ok again. Well, I suppose this is my grovel, I love this blog, I’m still in awe that ANYONE bothers to read it and I’m never going to let it drop of the proverbial perch. It may teeter, but never topple.

So I’m sorry if I’ve either been brief, weird or just absent…I’m still on my perch and soon I’ll be blogging with the best of ‘em. So long as my perch has wifi. And coffee. Lots of coffee. Xxx