Depression baths, Cleaning, Hormones and other stuff

So despite telling both my mother and the boy child to wake me up before they left because I couldn't over sleep to see the doctor, they both left the house in stealth mode this morning. How boy child actually managed this is a bit of a mystery based on the murder scene that he left behind in the bathroom. Mum claims that it is not her fault that I didn't wake up because she delegated the task to said boy child which shows that my mother has clearly taken complete leave of her senses and / or that she is not a morning person either.  Fortunately I did wake on time (just) and then had that weird sense of hypocrite in which I put underwear on and made a vague effort to be presentable for the doctor even though in all honesty that's the last thing I felt like doing... I had steeled myself for a fight based on my previous experiences of doctors and my mental health but I have to say that I ended up weeping buckets for once not through frustration but with relief because the man actually listened to what I had to say about the up down, yo yo, whore's drawers scenarios, the sleeping not sleeping thing, the not wanting to kill myself and the feeling either everything or nothing but there being no middle ground. Although asking me my career (which just incenses me) he was the first GP who didn't say "how about some sick leave?" and in all he was pretty cool. (GP's like Doctor's are cool) This meant I could be really honest about a lot of the stuff that I don't say or admit to and I actually felt like I got something out of the whole session. He did (bless him) sheepishly push the "depression" questionnaire across the desk at me, but when I said mark everything as 4 except the suicide question which is a 1 and by the way that'll make 14 he did the nod of understanding about how many gazillion squillion times I have filled it in that I know the questions and my responses by heart. After much discussion I have finally joined the "prozac nation" which thanks to his information sharing and honesty I can cope with for a while, especially since we talked about chemical imbalances and low moods and a whole heap of stuff that no other GP / psychologist / therapist / psychiatrist / other appropriate "professional" has bothered to actually tell me.

Discussed this at length with friend who has no belief system in depression / low mood / etc unless it is explained to her pictorially. Which is why I was highly amused by her bath analogy that I now feel the need to illustrate badly through the medium of paint; possibly because I spent a lot of time reading Hyperboleandahalf who makes like the most sense ever. (Friend will assume that I am taking the piss but actually I kind of liked the theory)

So it goes something like this:

We are all baths, okay fine our brains / minds are baths.. and more to the point a "normal" healthy active mind is a full bath, with bubbles and soap and steam and just lush. (Please note I do not have a bath but if I did it would be one with feet, also I can't draw; additionally the bath analogy does not have to include a person in said bath but I can't draw bubbles!)

Sometimes when people get ill (for the purposes of this description we are talking mental health but it works all ways) it is like the plug fell out of the bath and all the water starts to drain away and the bubbles fade and the water that is left is a bit murky and slightly grey  and this is why we feel a bit or a lot (dependent on drainage in your area) miserable....

DISCLAIMER: I am clearly not an artist or a health professional so the following information is how I understood it not how it is necessarily explained by "proper trained people"  but this bit is important for the remainder of pictures...

There is a difference between what doctor's term as depression which is a chemical imbalance and low mood. Don't ask me what it is I was not listening that hard....

but..

If the right treatment is prescribed at the right time then the bath starts re-filling and although this might be a bit confusing at first eventually you reach Utopia:

(which is probably a lot more happier than this except I did already say I can't draw...

Now in my case; because I am egocentric and don't understand anyone else...

I previously had lots and lots and lots of talking therapy; which is in part because I refused to do the drugs because they make me want to kill myself and I actually don't feel like that even when I feel crappy..

This works for about three days because I leave and feel worse than I did before and then I think "hey I didn't feel this bad before" which makes me feel better for 3 days and then NOTHING... or more accurately exactly how shit I felt before

In terms of a bath analogy...

I get a type of therapy which in theory is good, but it's not enough on it's own... I get the right treatment for some of the problem but because of the "chemical" imbalance the talking stuff doesn't get a chance to work because the plug is missing from the bath. Therefore my bath can't get refilled even thought the treatment is sound and I feel good for a few days, it doesn't last because there isn't anything else in place (or the plug for this description... therefore.... (did I mention I am talking about myself?)

The medication which as illustrated as above we HAVE to call drugs because it rhymes with plugs... acts as a plug so that when the nice therapy happens and tries to refill my bath it doesn't all escape down the drain pipe and then this also makes you feel a bit weird, cos you haven't experienced it in FOREVER

and then you can be like all the shiny people and experience this:

In theory! (natch I will report back and let you know?)

After all of this and feeling weirdly good that someone understood what I was trying to communicate and didn't just hand out drugs or make me feel bad or all the other stuff, I decided that I needed to clean stuff. This is also because this acts as a distraction. Hubby who has to live with me most of the time and yet still (kinda) likes me decided to cheer me up but giving up his sacred tool chest so that I can be a crafter "on the go" (don't worry there are no more crappy drawings / illustrations from this point in I swear)

Of course I had to spray it in order to make it mine... he did get a bit pissed that in the bleak mid winter I wore his coat and shoes and got both thoroughly sodden. This then meant that I had to clean out my stash for like the 13th time since I have been 33, which in turn means that the "front front room" which I have probably cleaned twice as many times ended up looking like this...

I tried to engage mum in the process but since she has her own drugs her OCD tendencies have significantly reduced and it is not as much fun winding her up with mess and chaos as it used to be. I did enforce audience participation by putting her in charge of piles (she hates these as much as she hates Virgo's who incidentally have tendencies to make piles) and she did complain about it and then went through the rubbish which it took me a LONG time to actually throw out only to listen to her try to talk me out of it; which goes against every rule she had when I was a child and living under "her" roof.

It took 5 and a half hours to reach this:

Which I'm not that fond of because it looks odd and also I purposely cut out the rest of the "front front room" because I have to tidy that tomorrow (but it's not craft related so it does not count)

and then this:

Which I am quite fond of because like Hogwarts or the Tardis it has hidden depths and secrets and hiding spots and now it has naked girls on it. This is good because when I eventually get bored of it and give it back to hubby he doesn't have to redecorate on account of the semi naked lasses. Also I can craft anywhere any time...

Close up of my lovely burlesque ladies...

In other news because I keep banging on about the second head on my face and feeling unbelieved.... here is a picture

EWWWW GROSS WARNING

This damn thing has been on my face since last year... and I stuck things on it and in it but it kind of matches the stupid hair... hubby says its hormone related, I think that if it carries on much longer I am going to use the tweezers that I found in a cracker today to give myself a facectomy; real word people...

EDIT: I made hubby read this to see if the depression thing made sense... he said it did but demanded I added an addendum... which is why I love him..

Boy children, Bra flinging, Ham traps? cheap dates and crafts.

I didn't do a whole lot of sleeping last night which as you can imagine really impacted on the good old mood factor. When I did fall asleep I had dreams of the surreal variety that you just can't make up, they involved being a psychic detective agent who slayed men dressed as foxes; probably because in an attempt to engage in the girl child's world I went to bed watching Sherlock and during my up down up down phase also warehouse 13 and clearly the whole female masking program is stuck in my brain. The not sleeping, over sleeping thing doesn't worry me in itself but I am always thrown back to one of my (many) therapists saying that if sleep is evading me not to fight it and to get up and do something like clean the kitchen. This has always been beyond me because I wouldn't clean the kitchen in day hours so why in the heck would I do it when I can't sleep? I did try and explain this but said therapist just looked at me in that judgemental "oh she's a proper slob" way.

Boy child had another shower this morning totalling 4 showers this year, which in itself is a record, I am seriously thinking of phoning the Guinness World Records and having an entry made, although I remain unclear of the actual ethics of recording boy child washing! Was pretty funky this morning and had to do a visit that involved an hour cross country driving. To be honest my heart wasn't in it and I really really didn't want to go. I did but scared the living daylights out of myself because I forgot that I live in a rural ish area and that my destination was also rural. Also I didn't take in to account that they have actual rivers here, that swell and flood when it rains excessively. Lets just say that aqua planing the car (a term I previously thought was one of those myths driving instructors tell you to scare you) and not falling off the side of what I would refer to as a mountain (according to the sign it was a hill but its all about perspective right?) kind of shifts your funk of funkiness to oh god I went through that and I'm STILL here? Then in the way that life just has of slapping you in the face and reminding you that you are a total ass I met the single most amazing and inspiring person I think I have ever met. Was actually a bit cross about this because I was forced to reflect on the equally scary drive home that whatever I feel or don't feel there are people out there with so much more on their plate that are still way inspiring people. I actually for the first time in a long while came out of a visit and felt that I had actually enjoyed myself.

Came home and bored mother to tears with epic, inspiring visit. She distracted me with parcel of craft goodies:



Which I have to confess cheered me up significantly. I have since gone on one of my rampages where it is essential that I finally once and for all clean up all my craft stuff. Got distracted by stuff I forgot I had and once again the front front room (so posh I named it twice) is a bomb site of crafts and boxes and pens.  Craft stuff remains decidedly unsorted.


Boy child's school is celebrating it's something anniversary tomorrow and according to him he has to dress like a school boy; as opposed to whatever it is he thinks he dresses as everyday and wrap his lunch in brown paper and string. Boy child and I recently got into one of our MANY arguments about shoes when he broke yet another pair (by accident). I lost my temper about this, which he knew I would so he suggested that since he had one good shoe of each pair that he could wear odd shoes. I then spent a good half an hour explaining that while I may never be one of these natural parents and as scatty as a scatty thing, that there is no way in hell that I am sending him to school in odd shoes. Clearly he does not believe that I have any kind of standard and has held on to this collection of shoes; you know just in case...

Please let me explain that the two outer shoes while are a matching pair are not the same pair of shoes that were originally purchased, this is how many pairs he goes through. He has decided that to show his support for the school (even though I demanded he throw them out) that he is going to wear his odd shoes and suit as befits what I think he meant "pauper". Personally I blame mum who suggested that he can tell them all that he is lucky to be wearing shoes in the first place even if they don't match and really get into the spirit of things. Clearly he had no confidence in me or my ability to wrap things in brown paper (although based on this week he nearly ended it up with it on his head to patch the dent) and so got a brown bag from the school instead. Curious to see if he has a shower tomorrow if he's going to wear odd shoes. I'll let you know.

Oddly proud to see that my genes and behaviours have clearly entered the girl child's persona. I hate wearing bra's with a passion and confess that it is always the first item of clothing to come off when I am at home or out drinking. I hate the damn things, turns out despite all her moaning that she needs a bra that so does she, so when she walked through the door and dumped her bra in the middle of the front front room (it's a real place people just like Narnia) I was actually quite proud and amused. 

Of course mum did her whole "oh god your just like your mother, if you do that when you grow up everyone will think your a slut, and the dirty kind not the sexy one" speech. So naturally I had to pull out my official parenting voice and agree in harmony. Girl child knows me well enough and saw through the "false" mutual agreement and left the bra that mum dyed green by accident in the middle of the floor before running off to make ham traps for Benedict Cumberbatch:

Clearly I am getting old...

Finally I decided to watch the undateables which I have mixed feelings about, however taken from my own knowledge and perspective and I can see the difficulties that these people experience. While watching this and there being an awkward pause in  particular date scene, mum pipes up with "god  I remember that feeling" so foolishly I inquire as to what which is when she says: " you know being on a date that is awkward and not knowing what to say but that you want to leave, my first thoughts were always how quick can I get out of here and can I fit that steak in my handbag?" Suddenly a lot of my childhood issues make a lot of sense and explains exactly the kind of date my mother is.... I can honestly say hand on heart that I have never no matter how uncomfortable tried to put a steak in my handbag...

General Funkiness

Now peeps not every entry can be full of frivolity and fun, therefore I pre-warn you that I have a major funk on today of the self pity party variety.

I fell out of bed at 9am... which was a bit of a pisser seeing that I had an hour drive to get to my meeting and had no petrol. Appeared that boy child had yet another shower based on the number of towels and wet footprints strewn across the bathroom. Must have discussion with him about the price of water on a water meter. Also mother had decided that today was the day that she simply must cash in her eye glass prescription that has been harboring in her bag for ooooh forever? This meant I didn't have to humiliate the girl child because riding on the bus with your Nonna (or grandmother but don't tell her I said that) on the way to school is pretty embarrassing.

Took look at self in the mirror and decided that since I was already late taking a shower was not an option. Hair decided that in this case it was going for full on Afro mode, I retaliated by figuring since it was raining this did not matter (trust me it did); was only on break neck speed to visit that I realized that I had trapped my cardigan in the door of the car hence dripping wet one sided cardigan with what I shall now be referring to as motorway stains. Got to visit and attempted to pull self together in half assed can't really be bothered attempt. Turns out other side of cardigan (sans motorway sans) has massive hole in pocket so ended up doing the stoop walk as I walked to my destination scooping the various items that fell out of said pocket on the way. Full credit to the other social worker who took 10 minutes of not asking to work out whether I was a service user or a social worker. I don't actually know what she decided but when she left she did say how nice it was to see me and that she'd visit again soon. Think that clarifies her opinion but that could have been the Afro hair.

Drove to work and lost my temper at the fact that yet again I cannot find a parking place, I did consider randomly dumping the car but then noticed the number of notices attached to other people's cars and decided against it. Ended up dumping my car not that far from work but due to the wind and the rain and having to cart all my shit up a zillion steps it felt like forever away. Arrived in office to do my mandatory "come in at least two days to be part of the team" to find no desks. So no desk, no parking and therefore no team spirit. Of the two remaining hot desks one of them didn't have a chair and the other didn't having a working connection. Bastardised the two desks together much to the amusement of everyone else in the open plan and V professional office but again this could have been the hair, the grunting, the slightly damp air about me or the general funk I appear to be emanating. Checked emails to discover that the only cashpoint in the joint in the middle of nowhere is now going to charge 99p for withdrawals due to goverment cutbacks. Now the organised would have cash for a location in the middle of no where, but cash being a rare thing in my life as it is I never do. So now I can't park at my own office, sit with my own team and NOW I have to pay to withdraw my own money. I don't know why they don't just send me a generic email that says "we don't want you here" I can take a hint after all. Was in general state of annoyance and also mildly bored... got so bad I asked my boss for more work....

Drove home in funk...  considered general mood and tiredness and crazy up down up down status so decided to phone the GP to avoid crisis. Now far be it for me to do down anyone who is admin / receptionist / clerk / whatever title you want who works for the GP but if I am ringing at 5 in the evening NO I do not want to call at 8am and wait for an appointment, NO I don't want to detail my symptoms to someone with NO medical / mental health knowledge at all and further more don't try and fob me off with Mr Crappy I don't have any people skills GP who called me "grossly obese" the last time I went to see him. Why on earth would I want to see him? especially since the only appointments you supposedly have are with him in the first place because apparently no one in the WHOLE county wants to see him either. Finally by going overboard with a complete lie about my skin peeling off my face and convincing the receptionist that I have a new breed of leprosy I managed to get an appointment on Friday. I confess that I may have employed the "desperately psychotic neurotic hypochondriac" tone but whatever works.

Turns out you can't get anything past my mother, so we had a discussion about why I feel crappy / tired/ unmotivated and we came up with several reasons, had I had a flip chart and pens we probably could have made a chart.... it would have looked like this...

I guess if I had to analyse it I'm bummed that I got through all the December stuff and nothing happened... like new year is here and I'm still bleurgh...

That being said huge props to Mummy (see told you I was in a funk) who loves me enough to pander to my many many whims...

She found me this on her pink boot stomping, getting glasses and belt (the belt because she got to town and her trousers practically fell to her ankles over her pink boots) scouting of the town. She is pretty epic after all, also crafty goodies because clearly she's anticipating raiding my stash.

I felt the need for fish finger sandwiches (I had no custard) and mulled wine and since a wise old guru (very possibly my mum) said a little of what you fancy does you good, I decided to agree... as can be seen from this picture Dry January is not happening and in the event of emergencies I can drink vinegar!

In other news, last night hubby decided after convincing me that I needed a shower (he was right) before bed to jump in said shower so that I couldn't. He also refused to make me a cup of tea, so I had a mini tantrum and flushed the toilet on purpose and stole all the towels. The problem is that I forget that hubby is the doer of all evil and revenge (hence why I married him the ultimate revenge) so when I got in the shower he used every single towel he could find to dry his body and doing all the unnecessary drying that only a man can do, he also decided to turn the shower off mid soap and giggle manically. I told him was a child and threw yet another temper tantrum; which isn't as effective when you can't see because you have shampoo in your eyes and only man soaked towels to wipe your face with. Once we had called a truce I went into the bedroom to discover that he had hidden ALL of the bed linen and pillows and lay quite proudly in the middle of the bed. Again I was not particularly polite but got my own back by doing the equivalent of the wet puppy (I said puppy) shake of my stupidly long yet wet hair over him until he gave in...

It's true... your husband is the biggest child you will have...

Hospitals, Head Injuries and Hormones...

So it was back to school yesterday and I have to confess that I did indeed think I had woken up in a parallel world. Well there was the point in which girl child shouted at boy child  as she stormed out of the house something about Moron's but I was still doing the morning body parts check. Boy child arrived in bedroom (still in onesie) before beaming at me and placing a cup of tea by the bed, then he disappeared whistling. Both of these things in themselves are small miracles since the boy child (despite being in the choir) can't hold a tune let alone keep his lips together long enough to actually whistle and his tea making tenancies while useful often result in very differing results. After establishing that I was indeed alive, in tact and awake and that hubby had in fact gone to work and that I hadn't as dreamed buried him the garden I tried the tea, which wasn't in fact bad. I then realized that as always new year or no I had five minutes to shower pull on anything that actually might still fit and leg it out the door. So you can imagine my surprise at the bathroom actually being occupied.... by a boy child of all people whistling and showering at the same time. I must admit that I wasn't very polite about stupid children having showers and washing themselves at this time of the day when I have to be at work in FIVE minutes, but he carried on whistling and washing. I paced the house like a mad thing pondering whether I could just get in the car sans washing but decided that what with last years onion smell, the garlic disaster and the blue hands scenario that maybe this year if only for one day I should in fact make an effort. It was a close run thing between me losing my temper in an unholy manner, switching off all the water and waiting patiently. I'll let you guess which option I went for.

Work was work, you know the same old same old and I was as always looking for distraction which is when mum rang (she is useful for something). Interestingly we have a ping pong table downstairs in the basement for light relief, but for some reason I am banned from using the table... may have had something to do with the tennis player style tantrum I had the last time I played and broke the ping pong paddle. Some people take themselves far too seriously! It's not as if I would really have made him eat the damn thing! Girl child's hospital appointment arrived which is now scheduled for the 25th of February, felt both relieved and stressed about this all in the same moment, however have scheduled all the work stuff around it which is good as it falls within my notice period which means I won't have to explain it all over again and take time off when I've just started.

Came home and broke news to girl child who had the mother of all melt downs and the older these small people get the more I am getting lost in the parenting etiquette. So I soothed her by making her laugh and telling her horror stories about when she wakes up from the operation and her sides splitting open if she sneezes and that since she's always moaning about having no boobs maybe we could talk them into giving her some spare ones while she's out for the count. Not convinced it will go down as my best parenting move based on my mother's eye movements but it made her.. well truthfully freak out a bit more and then resulted in a weak smile while she tried to work out if they would indeed give her boobs and how she would feel about it. I'm telling you this teen / pre-teen stuff is a whole new era. I much preferred it when the only hormones in this house were mine. Judging by the epic spot on the side of my face that is in danger of actually becoming a head in it's own right the small people are clearly keen on sharing.

Spent the remainder of the evening literally laying out on the sofa; how is it that its a new year and I'm still bloody tired all of the time? I have to say that channel four are clearly pulling out all the stops this year because firstly I made the mistake of watching "benefit street" which in my clearly addled social working mind I thought might be a nice wholesome program about how people fight through the changes and how they use their benefits in positive ways; sometimes my own naivety shocks even me! It was basically an hour of the typical stereotype already used to create an us versus them culture, shoplifting, cheating the system and growing drugs in their spare bedrooms. It was total car crash telly, and yet I had to watch the whole thing. Hubby and I got into a heated debated in which I declared it coalition propaganda and atrocious viewing, and he said stuff like, well I wish I didn't have a job and paid 50p for my washing powder, so we put it on series link so we can argue in the future. It seemed only right after this to indulge in "Female masking the secrets of the living dolls". This led to further debate and actual hysteria as my mother got all cross and amused by it at the same time. I was more than concerned when she suggested we get out the wall paper paste and make masks so that we could sit in the park the following day. Of course me being me felt the need to Google this phenomenon (I'm nothing if not curious) and discovered the difference between English rubber lady parts; aptly named the British peach and American rubber lady parts; branded normal. Hubby and I spent some time working out how man bits fitted in lady bits (yes yes I have small people I know the process) and still functioned. I also pointed out the fact that I have no issue with people wanting to dress like boys, girls, aliens whatever, but why ON EARTH do men who dress like women insist on wearing clothes that no woman on earth would actually really wear. Mum's point of view was that if she was 70 and wearing a bikini it might as well be yellow with her nipples falling out, but she had started on the sloe gin by then. Hubby said he couldn't take anymore of my viewing choices and insisted it was bed time, but to be fair by this point we were actually having serious conversations about what he would want to look like if he was a rubber doll and I think this may have been a bit much even for him.

Had very odd dreams about female masking but as foxes and woke up to a text from hubby announcing that it was a good morning followed by a picture of a male mask. Having only just woken up and not completed my morning routine I nearly wet myself with laughter... but had to hold on for dear life since boy child has again insisted on having ANOTHER shower... (lasting an entire 15 minutes) leading me to the only conclusion possible which is that it must be a girl.  I did ask him about this and he said "it's not a girl, I just want any girl", must spend some time thinking of an approach to this because it's nice to know he's not fussy but does seems a little on the desperate side. Plus he's 12 isn't he supposed to still be farting and making mud pies or something???

Finally at 1:35pm boy child decided it was clearly time for the first injury of the year and alas I was summoned to school for a head injury. Actually have to admit that I haven't seen his whole forehead swollen up into ostrich egg proportions before so I was mildly impressed. Decided against A&E trip unless his head turned a funny colour or started swiveling like something out of the exorcist, plus I had mum look at it and she said he'd be fine. (See mum now its publicly documented). I did of course inquire as to the nature of the injury and just what exactly one has to do to get into this state? Turns out that all you have to do is leave a room because you've finished eating, turn back to talk to your mate and forget there is a wall in the way. It does lead me to wonder exactly how hard my son slams his body around on a daily basis but it is a cracker of a swelling / bruise. I did remember this time to make the school sign a form to say that he had done this at school and that they were giving him back in this condition, so that when he arrives tomorrow with a black eye no dodgy questions or eyebrow raising occur.

I made dinner it was a massive failure, I actually do not have words for the not spaghetti bolgnaise because I didn't have any onions, mushrooms or garlic, had to use the odd bits of cheese from the Christmas selection, blue cheese and Edam mess that I presented to the family unit. I suspect that boy child must have done some serious damage to his head since he didn't complain even once, mum tried to avoid it by bleating on about having to go to work but I managed to force a bowl full down her too. Apparently I am cooking again tomorrow and in fairness it's not my cooking that is the issue, it's that use everything up because a big food shop would break the bank problem. Plus I watched extreme cheapskates and this couple do a frugal fast, where instead of shopping they actually use everything in their cupboards / pantry/  freezer and I thought that even though they ate goat heads (erk) it was actually a really good idea since I complain about what gets wasted in this house a lot! It is a good idea, I just need to be a bit more creative. Maybe..

EDIT: I cannot believe I forgot to mention that my newest TARDIS arrived today and it is epic, not only because I was not expecting it or because it comes with a fantastic magazine all about it, but because it is the heaviest thing I own and should hubby and I get into a fight, or I get burgled (whichever happens first) it is the ultimate offensive weapon, one blow to the head... jobs a good un :)

Quitting, Stupidity, Colouring and THE pink boots

Happy 2014! except that nothing has actually changed I'm still an ass and life keeps plodding on...

Please find below exactly why this growing your hair thing is one of the stupidest ideas I ever had...

Because I cannot be trusted with long hair! So there I am idly chatting with my mother, when she starts waffling on about how chuffed she is with girl child's hair rollers not realizing how many there are, now I confess that as usual I'm only half listening to what it is she's saying while psycho analyzing how I am going to cope without Matt Smith and what I'm going to do this weekend, so I reply with words to the effect of "lets put them in and give her curls like that one off eastenders". 

While I am doing this I have picked up the curly hair brush and absent mindedly wrapped it around my so called fringe. At this point I am aware that said brush appears to be stuck in my hair and actually it hurts quite a bit. Hubby is also in the room and misses nothing I am nothing if not stubborn so I wave the brush around a bit and pretend like everything is normal, which is when both mum and hubby exchange that look before broaching whether I am ok? "I'm fine" I exclaim while trying to blink back the tears that are threatening to fall, I have a bloody hair brush stick in my stupid hair and my arm hurts from trying to keep it in the air so as to relieve the pressure on my scalp. PEOPLE it is like an instant headache.. like someone put their fingers in my temples and pushed excessively, plus I am starting to panic that I am going to have to wear this damn brush in my hair forever and wear a hat to hide it. This worries me further because finding a hat big enough to cover it is going to make me look like I have an appendage stuck to my head and their will be a squillion jokes about being a dick head, and people will take me even less seriously than they do now. 

 Finally I give in  and once they finish laughing excessively before realizing the urgency of my situation they get to work. Now as a child I had real issues with my mum touching my head or hair, and this is in part because I have a very sensitive head and others brushing my hair genuinely hurts which is why I prefer to do it myself. It used to drive my mother mad but of course I was too young to verbalise it then so she just marked it down on her "more difficult things my daughter does" list and branded me as naughty. I will give her her dues, she was sensitively trying to remove the hairbrush from my hair and questioning as to "why why would you do this you stupid child?" and hubby was trying not to die from laughter and then asking "how old are you? this is the kind of thing five year olds do" I began to note the tremor in her voice that suggested that I was about to lose my hard grown (and unwanted) fringe. There were discussions about Stanley blades and clippers between the two of them, my head was exploding and I was distinctly embarrassed, I had several hot flushes and just wanted to drink myself into a state where hairbrushes were cool! Now I am the queen of over exaggeration or as I prefer to think embellishment but trust me when I say it took the two of them a good 15 minutes to remove it, including hubby holding my head in the manner of someone needing sedation and mum getting excited every time she removed an individual strand from the brush of doom. Once it was done hubby suggested that maybe I would want to brush my hair while mum disposed of said hair brush. I did attempt to argue my case on this 33 things and growing my hair and why I shouldn't what with the afro and now apparently brush eating hair, but have been informed that since I'm probably not going to make the whole 33 that I ought to stick with the hair growing, cue excessive sulking.

Oh yeah going back a little we had New year... Here's some random photo's that suggest JUST how much fun we had....,

WHO let this child grow up??? and yes she stole my shoes :(

Boy child who decided that a suit was appropriate (meaning I still can't get him to wear anything other than his onesie or this...)

Hubby has deiced that in his old age and while I get chubbier and more aged that he's taking the role of the hot one in this relationship.... I kind of can't disagree 

Foolishly after this sample of photo's I asked them for a loving family photo...

They gave me this and in hindsight I should have seen it coming...

 

I gave up at this point... but girl child continued her "photo bombing" skills...

All in all New Year's Eve.... nailed it....

In other news I quit my job on Thursday which if I had done it in a reckless Tabs kind of way would have been "totes amazeballs" but as some of you may remember I got an actual new job way back in October which I am still waiting to start. I had a bit of a strop (okay fine a huge one) in the office when I pointed out that a) I was the only one who got stiffed with the Christmas shifts and being a conformist I actually went to the actual office rather than worked from home even though no other (appropriate swear word here fine FUCKER) bothered, also that since my team disbands on the 31st of March that if I don't hand my notice in I'll end up getting redeployed into another new job while I wait for my actual job. Possibly not one of my smarter moves since I could still end up with NO job at all but I had, had enough at that point... plus I worked from home... after realizing in my my post strop flounce that I had left my power cable at work. Thank god for duplicate chargers and smart hubbys... SO in theory I finish on the 28th of March and start my new old job on the 31st, also side confession I had to quit because the idea of starting my new job on April's fools day given my daily experience of just being me didn't sit well with me.

Hubby in what I assume to be an attention seeking move on his part has spent most of the day flinging himself backwards and through doorways. Now in this house it's all about me or I'm not interested... we all know this which is why both small people use the mantra "if mamma ain't happy ain't no one gonna be happy" so I ignored him for the best part of ooh an hour. There was a moment when I decided I needed to read more so I went upstairs to read, which apparently hubby couldn't stand the quiet as he came upstairs and passively aggressively harassed me out of reading by again flinging himself about like a fish out of water. I gave in eventually and asked what it was he was doing... turns out he was being Matt Smith's Doctor since hubby wanted to work out the dynamics of why he doesn't have some kind of back injury from running around the Tardis in a cartoon like manner. Hubby was quite chuffed with himself and has spent the rest of the day announcing "come along King" like he actually is a time lord and my name has changed to Amelia (which unless he went down to the registery office and did it by deed poll it hasn't) I'm leaving him to it but pointing out that it's not just me with the obsessional behaviors....

Other news... I am all about the colouring this year, this is in part because my buddy went and got dead expensive no actual children pens (read on my part: Jealous) but this has inspired me into getting out the pro markers and having a play, yes I am regressing but at least I won't be sat in my nursing home wishing I had done more colouring:

Which leads nicely onto yet another discussion with my hubby in which I was discussing the future (I do like to be grown up sometimes) and saying that when I am old and of care home needs that I want to break the rules and share a room and even a bed in said care home. Hubby said "no way" (direct quote people) when I inquired into why he stated that a life time with me means he should at least get some peace and quiet and his own room. In fact as it turns out when we get to that stage of life he'd like to be in different homes in different countries, which I think is a bit dramatic. I decided to explore a bit further: 

WARNING THIS NEXT PART IS BOTH GROSS AND CRASS SO IF EASILY OFFENDED LEAVE THIS PAGE AND COME BACK TOMORROW

(DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU)

me: but wont it be nice to have people wait on us hand and foot while we sit and be really rude old people

hubby: how would that be nice, you come home everyday moaning about care homes

me: I do not

hubby: yes you do, just the other day.... (I tuned out while he made a valid point and quoted what I said about 3 days ago)

me: well yes but lets be honest, we are going to end up in homes, both small people hate us most of the time, and moan about making even a cup of tea, can you imagine them looking after us when we are old... would you even want them to? I mean really really?

hubby: (after significant pause) okay but I really would like my own room

me: what for?

hubby: well you know respite maybe?

me: we could have separate beds how's that? don't you think it would be romantic to be the cantankerous couple who give the young un's hell, you can keep your xbox in the bedroom and we'll keep our dentures side by side on the nightstand

hubby: well I do worry about that

me: you can take your xbox its fine, well assuming we still have that kind of thing then...

hubby: no the dentures....

me: we won't care by then

hubby: it's not that,  I'm just frightened of waking up in the night to find you've put my dentures in your lady parts just for the laugh and then damaging yourself and it being my fault

me: (silence)

hubby: SEE! you can't even deny that you wouldn't do it!

In other news I think I may have mentioned that we finally got mum her pink boots for Christmas because I couldn't handle the pressure, support groups and potential riots; so here's a little photo story for those of you who campaigned on her behalf:

I left this last picture the biggest because it was at this point that she pulled herself up by her bootstraps and nearly fell off the sofa...

A Christmas round up, on the eve of the year - and if I find time a reflection of 2013

Righto, onwards into the new year we march, as I sit here with my tardis blue nails complete with banana's because one should always bring such things to parties, with my heavily embellished eyes that were supposed to also go with the tardis theme that actually look like I've been smacked in the face, long trailing hair that I am itching to cut and frock (unsurprisingly also blue of the well you know variety) that it took three of my family to get me into, it occurs to me that I didn't cover Christmas and well I didn't blog (nothing new there peeps)

Disclaimer: it is now the eve of the year and therefore the idea of a long (yet hilarious) round up when I could instead be getting smashed out of my face (although the make up already makes me look that) quite frankly is not on the order for tonight. So in the tried and tested manner I shall bullet point the Christmas proceedings, do some waffle about 2013 and my hopes for 2014 before finally exploding out of my dress and having to run upstairs and get dressed.

- Christmas eve:

- Went to work, mightily pissed of at the fact that ever the conformist I stuck to the rules and actually went into the office to do my *ahem* work to find NO ONE ELSE BOTHERED
- won how many Ferraro Roche can you fit in your mouth contest with opposing team who did turn up for *work*
- did traditional family unwrapping of Santa's pajamas's (his gift to us not some satanic ritual were we all stripped Santa because that would be both sick and perverted)
- ate food watched crap, waiting for Santa to arrive, ruined hubby's Christmas by presenting him with a Christmas present even though we swore blind we wouldn't gift this year
-waited for hubby to return from garage with cross look on face
- passed out due to alcoholic beverages made by my mum

Christmas day:

-Woke up forgot it was Christmas day
- Discovered mum and children and was reminded very heavily that it was in fact Christmas day
- grunted and had fag and glass of mulled wine (no tea for me on Christmas day I'm hardcore)
- made traditional Christmas breakfast of snotty eggs and soldiers, left the room with mother because neither of us wanted to vomit on the day of the Christmas.
- Did presents
-watched mum dance around in THE pink boots (wishes I had videoed it)
- Had absolutely NO input into dinner as mum took over the kitchen. Handed her various alcoholic beverages through the  crack in the door at different intervals so as to defuse her mania, and got well drunk
- Had dinner - was yummy
-got card from hubby in which he had scratched out happy Christmas uncle and wrote in wife.... eased his worried frown by laughing (still pissed)
- cried a lot at the doctor's regeneration which made mum wonder if I was having an "episode"
-drank

Boxing day

- Mum made even more food and then threw the trifle up the wall. She says her glasses slipped, I say she had been at the Sloe Gin
- Waited an hour before Boy Child said "errrgh why is the wallpaper and floor wet" - watched mum flush with embarrassment
- Got drunk

All the other days

- went to work
- waited up for mum all night when the burglar alarm went off at her work so she had to go back and sit there till two in the morning - listened to her rants when she came home (drank)
- laughed at mum who tried to throw a t shirt down the toilet instead of the washing basket (dementia)
- listened to mum laugh at me when I forgot to take my onesie off and went to the toilet (true story)

SEE I can be concise; years of social work training; and need for alchemehol plus a bit worried that frock is making straining noises..

Reflection:

2013 was to be honest not my favorite year, but I am still breathing so it's not been the worst either. I will be glad to say goodbye to it, even though I do realize that just cos the date changes doesn't actually wipe out history like I try to pretend, but I did do some cool stuff like change house and job and mum came to stay and I turned 33, grew my hair (and my waist line) saw the 50th anniversary and the regeneration on the doctor, got a cat, oooh and I wrote a whole novel (how did I forget that?). I also guess I started to bury some hatchets (into people) and did a minimal amount of self growth and healing so it wasn't all bad. Plus I have extensive knowledge should I feel the need to write a hospital tour guide or give people the inside scoop on livers. Actually now I wrote all that I guess it wasn't as bad as I thought when I was going to write about woe and misery...

So into the new year I will be taking my hair and my expanding waist line, my new knowledge, optimism about the new new job, my 33 things still to achieve, the friends that have put up with me over the last year, my liver knowledge (unfortunately)  my writing (which I do intend to come back to starting tomorrow now that I know that I can) the love of my family (mad as they all are) and my own sense of self. What I will leave behind is the negativity and as much of the cyclical depressive stuff  that I can(I'm boring myself with that crap now). I'm not taking the self doubt and berating myself or even (and you know who you are) the excessive apologizing for my sheer existence.

and as if it were a speech: (note that I totally stole this:)

I wish you enough sun
to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain
to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness
to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain
so that the smallest joys in life
appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain
to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss
to appreciate all you possess.
I wish you enough hellos
to get you through the final goodbye.

*By Bob Perks

Love you all

me xxxx

P.S I'm doing dry Stopanuary as of tomorrow... (but we'll discuss that horror in the new year)

The eve of Christmas

I think I'm supposed to post something profound right now, and probably something festive / Christian but I am an atheist which makes me exempt. I am also a hypocrite so while I choose not to believe for my own personal reasons, I also don't expect others to follow the same trend, and actually in those rare moments that I can pull my own head out of my ass for long enough in December I actually kind of love Christmas...

This year has had its up and it's down, the last few months with all the Girl Child drama being the worst of the down and knowing that we carry that into the new year is still a down. That being said there are tons of children out their with much worse and I know now with a certainty that we are in fact a strong (and also highly odd) unit that will make it through anything and we've proven that time and time and time again.

Christmas is a funny time of year and I find that everyone assumes that we should all be merry. I'm against this because human beings are individuals and we come with a whole range of experiences and feelings associated with Christmas. As I told a colleague today I find the whole Christmas stuff difficult (I am after all an excellent grudge holder) but that isn't Christmas' fault. (Like Christmas is a whole person or something...)  I appreciate that there are people who love Christmas so much that they spend their entire years electric bill on proving so by lighting up their whole house, or keeping their tree up and celebrating every single day, there are those that don't celebrate due to religion or culture, and those that fear and dread the whole damn thing and if they even manage to put the damn tree up in the first place are itching to take it down as soon as its socially (or not) acceptable. I think we all find out peace and our reasons and we celebrate whatever we celebrate in a way that we can cope with. I use the word cope because their are squillions of us out their coping and just getting through where some days it is enough to have just gotten out of bed in the first place.

I'm not sure where I'm really going with this whole post other than to say that regardless of my beliefs, my feelings and my many confusing thoughts is that for me my Christmas present is having my whole family home for Christmas and not in a hospital setting, we would have coped if it was different but thankfully it's not right now and that's worth celebrating.

So for those who welcome it, Happy Merry Christmas and I hope that it is everything that you wish and hope for, for those that don't I wish you peace and a moment of calm and the strength / courage whatever you need to fight your daemons if only for five seconds. I think for once I'm finally comfortable with the saying Happy Holidays whatever you do with them....

For the Whovians in my life... Happy the Doctor is leaving us *sobs* day :(