Miss Cherry Red

This post is for The Gallery, Week 21 over at Sticky Fingers.

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When I hit 13 my Mum and Dad moved us to Northern Ireland.

I had no friends.

Catholic kids hated me because I was english.  Protestant kids hated because I was catholic.

I felt totally isolated.

I hated Ireland and to make things feel worse – it was cold and rained at least 200 days of the year.

And then I went to college and met some wonderful people who lived in Portstewart.

Portstewart is a small coastal town on the north east coast of Northern Ireland.

I found somewhere I could be where my religion or my nationality wasn’t important.

I could sit on the beach and watch the clouds roll out to see.

I could forget all the shit for for as long as I wanted.

I could hear only my thoughts.

It remains one of my favourite places ever.

Tags: the gallery

I learned a valuable lesson this week in how to constructively spend my time with Keira after she shared a secret with Daddy during her bedtime story.

I learned that children keep nothing sacred.

Here is parenting according to the Hot Geek:

• To teach Keira her numbers (eg: her times tables)
• To teach Keira to write words (she can already do her name)
• To teach Keira the alphabet so she recognises the letter and sound
• To practice her handwriting

And here is parenting according to me:

• Rhyming words like nudie, rudie, doody, booby, poody
• Googling images of ladies with beards
• Making up songs about poo, wee-wee, bogies and farts
• Running around in our underwear and allowing Keira to try on my bra and high heeled shoes
• Trying on make up
• Teaching Keira how to order coffee when in Starbucks

You tell me which ones are more valuable lessons?

Tags: life, motherhood, parenting

This was the first thing that greeted me in my twitter time line this morning:

Now, if you’ve read the ‘About Me’ section you’ll know that I used to want to be a journalist which makes me incredibly nosey by nature.

So I did what any self respecting nosey bitch would do… I clicked the link.

Well fuck me sideways, Nudieprincess had only bloody given me an award!

Here are the rules:

• Give grovelling gratitude filled thanks to the blogger who awarded you
• Share your 5 word blogging philosophy
• Nominate further bloggers of substance

So… tell you my blogging philosophy?!

Um.. I’ve never really thought about it to be honest.

I was going to use ‘Telling it like it is’ but it turns out it’s been taken and Nudie has used ‘I write from the heart’.

Damn them both!

So I guess I’ll have to use this:

It’s better out than in

I wrote my very first post on 21st May 2009 because I wasn’t having the best of times.  Keira was learning to play her nanny and I off against each other which lead to vicious arguments between my mum and I and The Hot Geek and I were going through a sticky patch.  None of it was his doing – I take full responsibility for it.

I started writing it because I had to get whatever was going on in my head out.  I didn’t necessarily want to spend hours dissecting my thoughts with my friends and getting tons of different viewpoints and opinions.  I just wanted it all out so I wasn’t torturing myself and so I could rationalise it myself.  I figured maybe, just maybe, I’d find someone who was going through similar stuff and therefore cementing in my brain that I wasn’t some some irrational nutjob.

And I found you in your droves!

So now I need to pass this award on to people I feel write their blog with substance.

<insert drum roll here>

My award goes to :

Emma @ Me The Man and Baby

Emma @ Not Such a Yummy Mummy

I love both their blogs.  You should too.

Tags: awards, blog, gratitude, life, love

Dear God

I am a catholic. But you already know that.

People don’t believe me when I tell them about my religion.  They think I’m making it up.

My religion doesn’t define me but I do go to mass and I do pray.  Sure, I might not pray every day (if my Nanny Bridget is with you just tell her I do… she couldn’t stand the thought of me not praying) but I do pray.  I had my daughter baptised because I thought it was important.

I take an awful lot of stick from people about how I can place my faith in a being or power I’ve never seen and only assume exists because of a book!

I defend you to people who tell me that the church is a cult, it’s full of people who do no good and that I’m a totured catholic with my ways.

But I have to be honest with you this time, I’m not sure I can defend your decision to take my friend Matt.

He was loving, caring, full of life and he made my very best friend happier than she’s ever been.

I just don’t get your decision this time.

I know, I know, people say ‘God moves in mysterious ways’ and ‘God has a higher plan’ but if that’s the case… if you do have a higher plan, you might wanna think about sharing it because there are an awful lot of people down here trying to make sense of the death of our friend.

I know you can’t give him back, all I ask is that heaven take care of it’s new angel or there’ll be holy hell to pay when I get there.

Yours

Me.

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Dear Kat

I want to make this better for you.

I want to bear the pain for you.

I want your heart to unbreak

I want to bring him back.

But I can’t.

I can only be here for you.

I can only tell you that I love you

I can only try to help make every day a little bit easier.

But it doesn’t seem enough.

So lets try this first: I am here when you need me night or day because you are my friend and because I love you.  Every day will suck and feel like it’s not getting better but I am here with all your friends and we will do whatever we need to help you through it.

Yours

Me.

Tags: death, God, life, love, relationships

People are always telling me that Keira is just like me.

That she looks like me, acts like me, talks like me and I have the same response everytime: really??? I just don’t see it.

And the I videoed this:

like mother like daughter

I require slapping the next time I claim there is no likeness!

I have made no secret of the fact that I love jewellery.

And proof of said addiction can be read here.

The Hot Geek has been telling me for ages that I needed a hobby or something to do other than be a pain in his arse when he’s trying to play xBox or work.

So I did.

I bought myself some jewellery making pieces: earring posts, stems etc and some tools and set about making my own pieces.

And here are the fruits of my labour – thoughts please:

Tags: crafting, jewellery, making

So…… tiddlyompompom tagged me in a meme and well, it’d be rude not to get involved…

Here goes….

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1. Are you a meticulous planner?

Yes.  I border obsessive.  People (like the hot geek) who can just fly by the seam of their pants drive me insane.

I write endless lists: on paper, on my iPhone, on sticky notes around the house, in books.  If it’s still long enough, I’ll write a list on it.  I even have a note book in my bag JUST IN CASE!

2. Do you wear make up and if so how much and how often

I’m going to let the fact that I have 3 make up bags answer this.  I have a a bag with all the essentials in my bedroom.  Another one (containing exactly the same bits: foundation, mascara, lipgloss etc) in my handbag and a third one tucked away in my wardrobe draw as an emergency!  I can’t help it.

I rarely leave the house without it on in some form: masacara and a slick of eyeliner is usually OK.  If I’ve been on holiday and my skin looks nice and healthy then I don’t bother.  When the tan fades then I put the slap back on.

3. What, if anything, do you wear in bed?

Knickers.

Anything else and I feel all restricted.

4. Look over your right shoulder, what do you see?

A pile of washing ready to go away.  I’ve deliberately left in on the stairs hoping the Hot Geek will notice it and take it with on his way up.

He hasn’t.

Damn it.

5. If you had to take a random item to an interview to help describe you, what would it be?

Oooh, good one?!  Um…. er….. lemme get back to  you on that one!

6. What film would you have liked a staring role in?

Dirty Dancing, no question.  Patrick Swayze all toned and hot looking and teaching my to dance in a way that wouldn’t make my Daddy proud – hell yeah!

7. Jimmy Stewart or Cary Grant

Cary Grant…. There’s just something about the man that sets him apart

8. Do you swear in front of children

Never intentionally and certainly never at them.  Keira either repeats everything I say or, worse still, will ask me what one of those is.  A classic example:

Me: You flaming silly bitch!!! Use your indicator

Keira: Mummy, whats a bitch?

Me: *holds head in shame*

You see my point?!

9. Do you knit or sew or do any other ‘womanly’ craft?

My mum tried to teach me to knit when I was little and I’m afraid to say that patience wasn’t a virtue I possessed back then and she gave up.

I figured I must have been fairly hard work if she gave up entirely.

My mothers attempt to teach me to sew was even shorter than the whole knitting exercise!

I can finger knit though.

10. Twitter or Facebook

I have both although I prefer Twitter.

My friends are dotted all over the world: England, Scotland, Ireland, America, Middle East and Australia so I use facebook to keep up to date with them and share photos.

Twitter is awesome for getting to know people I wouldn’t normally meet through facebook.

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And now I’m passing this on to:

Sam over at The Nudie Princess Diaries

Kat at 3 Bedroom

Livi @ Livis little bubble

Emma at Me The Man and The Baby

Jay at Mocha Beanie Mummy

Tags: life, questions

This entry is part of the combined Writing Workshop (courtesy of Josie @ Sleep Is For The Weak) and The Gallery (with thanks to Tara @ Sticky Fingers) and combines pictures and words for Emotions:

I have four brothers.

Sorry.

I had four brothers.

I lost my baby brother on Friday 23rd November 2007.

He was 25.

He had bright blue eyes.

He had short blonde hair.

He was a drug addict.

I hated and loved him equal measure.

I loved that was fiercely loyally to everyone he cared for: his friends, his family.  I loved his honesty.  I loved his sense of humour.  I loved that he still took my Nan flowers just because he could.  I loved that inside the shell of the man I saw, lived the soul of the boy I knew.

But I hated what he did.  I hated the emotional and financial strain he put my parents under.  I hated the web of deceit he could create to get his way.  I hated his new batch of ‘friends’.  I hated that his life revolved around his next fix.  I hated that I rarely saw the boy I knew in the face he had.  I hated where he found his solace.

The night the police knocked our door is a real to me now as it was back then.

Officer S stood in front of me and I asked him which station my brother was at and was it OK to go pick him up.

I couldn’t tell you the number of times he’d been to our home.  But he looked different that night.  He didn’t look disappointed like he normally did.  He looked like he’d lost a fight.  Like he had lost all hope.

He looked…. devastated.

It was then I noticed her.  His female colleague.  I don’t recall her name but I remember he introduced her as a family liaison officer.

I knew instantly what he was going to tell me.

I knew in my heart.

He didn’t need to use the words.

Michael was dead.

I had to tell my brother who was at home.

Worse still, I had to tell my mum.

I will never forget the look on her face when I told her that my brother, her youngest son, wasn’t coming home.  I sometimes feel like she resents me for it.  Resents that I knew first and that I had to tell her.  I feel like I single handedly ruined her life telling her.

And I know it’s silly, I know that.  But that’s how it feels.

My family rallied round, poured endless cups of tea and cried rivers of tears.

They visited him at the hospital.

I did not.

I wanted to be able to dream about the boy I knew.  Or close my eyes and see his smile as I remembered it.

I did not need my final memory and the lasting image of my baby brother to be of a cold and lifeless body in a hospital mortuary.

I think that would have killed me more than knowing he was gone ever could have.

Instead I look at the picture below.

It is the only image I have of my daughter and her uncle.

She doesn’t remember him and doesn’t understand why.

I tell her that he went to sleep because it was time to go.  But that she shouldn’t be upset or afraid because he is the brightest star in the sky.  Shining on her at night, keeping her safe.  Watching her.  Keeping away any bad dreams.

She loves that idea.

Tags: death, gallery, love, writing workshop

Dear Dad

It’s Fathers Day today and for the first time in a long time, I’m not at home to see you.

I don’t even think I remembered a card.  How rubbish is that?

I know, I know, you’ll tell me that you don’t need a card and that you don’t want anything for Fathers Day.

Well, I want to do something for you; to give something back to show you how much I love you and how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.

But the truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever have enough words to use to tell you how far that goes.

I am beyond grateful for the man you have been in my life and the scrapes you’ve saved me from!

You’ve single handedly moved me to every home I rented when I left home.  Even though those homes were over 90 miles away from yours.  You were the only man with a van I trusted to do the job right

You have never criticised my choice of boyfriend – regardless of how awful and obvious it was.

You have put together more items of flat pack furniture than is normal for any man in his lifetime.

I don’t know anyone who can clear spiders from a room like you can!

You are the greatest man on earth.

You have been my rock in times when I didn’t even know I needed one.

You are the epitome of everything a father should be.

I am your only daughter and you are the only father I could ever want and I thank God every day that you are.

I love you.

Tags: dad, fathers day, life, parenting

Ooooh, look… a second scrummy guest post.

Todays post comes courtesy of Emma at Not Such a Yum Mum…

But first up, a little bit about her (and in her own words too):

A not so yummy mummy trying to cope with a baby, husband, full time job, house, job, friends, family and a part time masters degree

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Blog post for Amy:

I have never written a guest post before, I’ve never really had the confidence but when I saw that my lovely new blogging and tweeting friend (who also went to uni in Stoke) Miss Cherry Red was asking for guest voters for when she goes on her holibobs I thought why not! It came at just the right time too as there’s something I can’t write on my blog. You see…..

….I’m in love with a man who isn’t my husband.

I don’t know how it happened. I’ve seen him around for years and always found him attractive but recently it’s developed into something more. I can’t stop thinking about his smile, his beautiful blonde curls, his sense of humour and gorgeous eyes. I saw him twice last week. On Friday night he made me swoon with his intelligence, cheekiness and strength of character. On Sunday I watched him play football, running up and down the field with ease. I cheered him on and shouted his name as my husband watched bemused.

Craig knows, I couldn’t hide it. The lust in my eyes, the shy smile playing on my lips, my breath quickening as he came closer, my chest heaving in a manner much more befitting Elizabeth Darcy by the side of *that* lake. I see him every Friday but it isn’t enough. I find myself going out of my way to see him again, once a week isn’t enough. I have to see him every day. I find myself Googling him and staring dreamily into his eyes. That’s how I found he was married. I cried. He’ll never love me back. It won’t stop me lusting after him though. He’s the perfect man, handsome, sensitive, gorgeous, funny, beautiful. Did I mention how attractive he is?

I’m not the only one to feel like this, I know I’m not. I bet there’s others out there like me but how many will admit it? How many others will stand up loud and proud and shout:

‘I love Simon Baker and would leave my partner for him’

I mean look at him – Would you?