Beautiful

Judging by the light, I think my laptop must update its own clock. That's good to know, as it would probably take me an hour to work out how to change it manually! I seem to have lost my ability to have great success with technology; there are certain things that still, inside my head, cry out "Pink Job," and "Blue Job." I, as a lady, do the pink jobs and.....O yes, I, as the singleton, also do the blue jobs. I think I need to rebrand all jobs as "Lilac," and get on with it!

Of course, in theory, my 18 year old son, could take on some of the Blue ones. From time to time I try to remind him that he is "The man of the house," and has certain jobs that he should get on with. Unfortunately for me, he sees his main responsibility in life as battling away at World of Warcraft, and strolling into town several nights a week to meet his mates. There is a fortnightly excursion to Job Centre Plus to fit in, too.

He has now decided on a career. He would like to train to become a chef. He can use the microwave, and knows how to unwrap pizza and place it in the oven. His announcement stunned me into silence. I am, however, supportive of such a plan. Those who yearn to be pilots and firemen had no previous experience, after all. Or brain surgeons.

It is hard, these days, to decide on a career. I must also find a paid occupation. My youngest child will be 10 next year. After 20 years of parenthood, the thought of finding paid employment is daunting. I have kept myself extremely busy in the interim. I currently spend huge amounts of time volunteering at my girls' school, both as a Governor and in the classroom. I must translate all those skills into an exciting CV.

Even having had a "good education," that seems a lifetime away. And of course, the current climate reduces the options.

I am currently working on a new vision board, my cosmic shopping list. I shall put myself on there, happily employed, and my son, in checked trousers and pristine white tunic...the brilliant thing about it, is that it will work. Happy times ahead!

Well, I haven't been on here in so long, I wasn't sure if I had the right address A little like visiting an old friend, wandering up to the door and tentatively knocking, lest they may have moved.

My birth father did that, when he came looking for me after 24 years. He just knocked on a door, hoping my great-aunt still lived in the same house. He left his details, asked her to pass them on to me, and returned to Lincoln. I don't think he made the journey to kent just for that, and was just passing. Even so, he can't have remembered the address, or he would have written a letter.

Things are a little strange round here. There have been some blasts from the past, to say the least.

Sometimes, when "bad" things happen, we hide from them..Even with tthe hiding, they're still there, until we make peace with them, heal from them, and let something else in. So, at the moment, that is what is happening. RESOLUTION. FORGIVENESS.

Not always easy, but worth it in the long run, I am sure.

I was just in Tchibo in town. They have a coffee shop and shop shop combined, which is closing down- so that's a good idea then- so I popped in and bought a trivet. Actually, it's 2 trivets in one: a circle with a Mary Quant style flower cut out of it, and a Mary Quant style flower that slots into the cut out. I already have a trivet, but it's a little warped so £2 spent on a pair of new ones is not entirely wasted.
A little boy was wandering around saying, very loudly, "Mum, are we having lunch here?" over and over again, to which she replied, every time, "No, we're not." Eventually a male employee broke off his dealings with another customer, "NO, YOU'RE NOT HAVING LUNCH HERE!"
with customer service like that, maybe it's no surprise they're closing down.

I went up the road to Costa. They're doing a special: any drink and a sandwich for under a fiver. After the week I've had, I thought such a meal deal a suitable treat, and watched while the "Barista," as they call them, put vanilla syrup, ice cubes, cold milk, frothed milk and an espresso into my latte glass. How on earth would you come to invent such a thing? My constant query is, however, why do they then arrange everything in such a way as to render the napkin useless? It becomes a filler in a sandwich, layered like this: saucer, napkin, cup, or plate, napkin, sandwich, or plate, napkin, chocolate tiffin. I had to race a couple of teenagers for the corner table with a plump leather chair; they had no food, I had my tray of £4.99 meal deal. By the time I squished into my seat there was iced vanilla latte soaking my napkin.

Another thing! When you buy tea and they leave the bag in the cup, what are you supposed to do with the tea-bag when all is sufficiently brewed? If you put it on your saucer, every time you take a sip, tea drips everywhere!

My eldest daughter had an interview at a rival coffee establishment. She had to do a couple of hours practical assessment, and was horrified to be asked to "make cream." They make it from powder. It isn't actual cream whipped to a delicate frothiness, it is reconstituted white powder.I haven't summoned up courage to go in there again, though I suppose I'll get over it, just like I overcame the rumours about McMilkshakes containing chicken fat and there being whole rats in with the bearded man's chicken. At the moment my children are desperate to go to buy McMeals, just for the coke glasses. We have two one in pink and one in turquoize, and very pretty they are too.

Now, I must go and try out my new trivet. I may bake some scones. To make a really elegant tea-time spectacle I shall serve them up on napkins, perhaps...

Everybody warned me about the teenage years! When my children were younger people looked at me with sympathy and horror while saying:"I wouldn't want to be you when they're all teenagers!"

I have 6 daughters and a son. I wasn't trying for a boy until I got one, he is actually number 2 in the line-up, concieved on the night of Harry Hill's ddad's funeral. This is, I might add, nothing to do with Harry Hill, who I knew only a little, and he couldn't remember my name, greeting me cheerfully as "Patrick's Girlfriend!" I was no longer Patrick's girl-friend, either. I was there with my father-in-law, and my husband joined me that evening. Anyway, that was a little less than 19 years ago, and a little off the point, but there you go.

One daughter is now safely through the teens, aged 20 and 2 months. My youngest is temperamental, but only 8 years of age. The rest, a neat bundle of 4 squeezed between the numbers 10 and 16, are caught in their hormones' full flow.

My 16 year-old has experienced some problems. She has bruises on her wrists after an episode of drunken disorderliness which, it now transpires, one of my cheques, with a forged signature on it, was paid into her bank account. I have retrieved most of the money- she'd only spent £100, a quarter of the amount- having explained that if not either I, or the bank, would have to involve the police. Mainly, she denies doing it, and certainly feels no need to apologise.

The arresting officer in the drunken incident was keen to point out that she's obviously very angry. My eldest daughter thinks I should call the police and throw her out. But to what fate? As a mother, I love her unconditionally and would rather try to lift her out of this condition than plunge her further into it by washing my hands of her. Whatever she has become is a result of everything she has experienced in her life. I am the only parent actively involved in her life. She has had a Dad and a step-dad who seem to point the finger at me over this, an accusation I refuse to accept. I have imperfections, I share the "blame," but feel this wouldn't be happening if she had a decent, hands-on, father-figure.

Whatever happens, I always see the best in people. I once read "The Journey," by Brandon Bays, which sees everyone as having a shiny diamond at their centre, which disappears through life, covered up by layers of "dirt" accumulated as a result of life's events. Every negative occurrence becomes a black mark on that diamond. So, as a parent, I feel it is my job to clean away the dirt, or help her to, so she can achieve her brightest potential.

Well, it's Monday, sunshiny and lovely. For one of my girlies it's an emotional few days, as she finishes primary school on Wednesday. Her next school will be fantastic, but all her friends are going elsewhere. I'm sure she'll be fine, but I know we'll both need boxes of tissues at the Leavers' Assembly.

Still, onward and upward!

xx

Sometimes, even with understanding, dispondency falls like a grey cloud, hovering a few inches above our heads, threatening rain. I look up at my cloud, tempted to shake my fist at it, scare it away; the trouble is, the cloud likes that, it thrives on it so, far from retreating, it absorbs the frustration and puffs itself up in defiance.

In many ways, I have a full life. However, there often seems to be something missing. I love my family, my home, my friends, my voluntary work....but, it is the natural human condition to crave a soul-mate, a companion, a lover. In my current circumstances, there are few opportunities to find one. Most of my male friends are attached and are, to be frank, just friends. Most new people I meet, when they hear that I am an independent Mum to 7, though 3 of them are now fairly self sufficient, glaze over and make their excuses. Maybe they think I'm after a replacement Dad for my childre, which is not the case. Maybe they think I will want more, which is also untrue. What I would like is someone to spend time with, to go out with, for walks or theatre trips. I am not on the lookout for someone to move in and play happy families.

So, how does one go about finding such a person?

Having read The Secret and Abraham Hicks, even Paul McKenna, I know what techniques should work. In the short term, they do, but seeing through the veil can take a lot of strength at times. I visualise myself in all sorts of wonderful situations with the perfect companion, and positive things happen. However, a slight rejection, even from someone you know isn't the right person anyway, can be tough. So, I return to my visualisations and affirmations: "I am happy, loved and honoured by my kind, faithful, healthy soulmate," was recommended to me. It feels good to say it.

Another tip is to bring what you desire into the present. Instead of wanting, have gratitude for already having. It sounds a little wierd, but it works. It works quickly with things I'm not too bothered about. Sometimes, striving too haard can actually push things away.

Also, as we are in a group consciousness, I would like you all to visualise me now, happy, loving and loved by the man of my dreams.

Thankyou

I was rather taken aback this morning, upon checking my Facebook, to see that my status declared that I "need sex!" One if the delights of having teenagers in the house, I suppose, the gleeful tampering with status that occurs when you leave the room is always a source of great entertainment.
Fortunately, this interference occurred very late last night, so few friends will have seen it.

It is a relief to sea the sunshine; during the night I woke to hear heavy rain outside. The girls' Dad is coming today, and it will be good to be able to play outside, maybe at a park or the beach. On rainy days there are less options, which cost money.

Yesterday we went into town. One of the girls has a birthday party to attend this afternoon, so gift shopping was required. With a couple of their friends in tow,we headed out. At one point we were thirsty and, inevitably, hungry, so Ro asked if we could go to SHADES in the centre of the Arndale. My ex-husband irreverently calls in CODGERS, as it is frequented predominantly by old folk. I was in there once when Ro was tiny. Confined to her puschair, hot and bothered, she screamed and screamed. I left her at the table with my older girls and joined the queue to get her another drink to keep her quiet while we were still eating. Just as I was paying the waitress serving me complained to her colleague about the screaming child, saying she wished people with babies would stay at home.
"Actually she's mine!" I declared, causing the young woman to turn fuschia with embarrassment. People can be so quick to criticise without thinking.
Yesterday, at that same counter, I was trying to give our order to the girl behind the till.
"Pardon!" she said. I repeated the request. She still could not hear. There was a man beside her frothing milk. He stopped momentarily, long enough for me to start speaking and be drowned out once more. I took a breath, as did my elder daughter, and the two of us turned and looked at him, expectantly. He looked sheepish, and turned off his frother for a minute.
It is wonderful to see how much communication is non-verbal. For that reason, I don't really like talking on the phone. I like to have eye-contact and body language to read.
Over time, I seem to become worse at mask-wearing. To my children's amusement my face frequently gives away my feelings. Being true to myself is probably a good thing, though I'm sure I can remember being a master of disguise where feelings are concerned.
My chidren have tried to develop that skill. In a large family it can be hard to get to the bottom of things. Face reading can quite often work. Once, body language had given away the culprit, but she was still denying it, so I resorted to the the use of a dowsing crystal. When it spun in circles over her head she was mortified and confessed immediately!

Well, it's Saturday, and I seem to be going to town with some little girls. It's a little cooler today, so it should be fine.

It's been a strange week. I had a dream on Monday that my youngest daughter was in an accident and put on a stretcher. She and I went to the Harbour on Tuesday, and I was nearly over the top with caution; "Don't get too close to the edge!" "Stand back!"

On Wednesday afternoon, I went into a bit of a swoon around lunchtime, feeling really down and sleepy. When I arrived at school, my daughter nwas brought to me, having been sick. She looked a little white, and whispered to me that she'd been hit on the head with a football, which had then knocked her backwards onto the ground. It sounds like she blacked out.

So, though not on a stretcher, I took her to hospital to be checked out. My reaction to the dream had been to try to avert accidents, Sleeping Beauty style. Possibly, if something has already "been written" we can't stop it, but we can affect it. We can throw light at something. I suspect my afternoon wooziness was healing energy being sent her way and, since the dream, I had also been praying for her with my thoughts, providing a cushion to prevent serious damage.

I always try to heed my dreams, for I believe they are giving us messages. There is often a theme to them, so that if something is not immediately picked up, it gradually dawns on me. I reinforce this through meditation, and looking for other signals in life, the magical synchronicity.

Some time ago I lost the will to blog. I would sign in, read a few blogs, turn to mine and sit by the blank white box, wondering what to do. There seems to have been a form of writers block.

I suppose I was afraid of having nothing new to say. Also, I was aware of prying eyes. A couple of years ago I seemed to acquire something akin to an internet stalker, who read my blog, and followed me home. It was a strange experience.

I toyed with the idea of beginning a new, more anonymous blog. However, I may renew my efforts here. I'll see.