Miss Cherry Red

Motherhood. Love. Life. And everything in between

The Girl and I have just celebrated living in our house for a year.

One. Whole. Year.

I can’t believe how quickly 12 months have gone and I’m even more surprised at just how far I’ve come in that time.

I mean, my last post on here was July 2013 and reading it back makes me sad and if I’m being a truthful – a little mad.

Mad at myself for not seeing what I had right in front of me and for allowing how miserable I felt to consume what should have been a wonderful occasion for The Girl – she was so excited to have a new house, a new room, 2 new kittens and a garden – something she’d never had before and I let my overriding negativity tarnish that a little for her.

Moving here was a fresh start for the both of us and in hindsight I wished I’d allowed myself to see that moment in all it’s beauty.

But, hindsight is a wonderful thing.

I think about then and now and ask myself “am I still lonely?” and truthfully, yes, sometimes I am, but do I allow that feeling of being single and on my own define who I am, no I do not.

Do I still cry when The Girl goes to bed?  No.  I don’t. In fact, I couldn’t tell you the last time I cried until my eyes stung and I never thought I’d get there.

I look at how different things are for me now and I give myself a tiny high five for achieving it.  I mean, I have my own home, my own mortgage, my own car and my own money and do you know what, I’m doing alright.

But more than that, I have The Girl.

I have a daughter who is growing up to be exactly the person I’d hoped – she’s beautiful, she’s polite, she’s kind and well behaved.

She makes me smile and laugh every single day and she makes me feel happy right to my very core.

She’s my wing woman and for as long as we’ve got each other, I think we’ll do just fine.

Categories: life

The past few months have been the darkest I’ve known and I was really hoping that The Girl and I moving into our new house would give me the closure on that chapter of my life that I so desperately wanted.

I hoped it would be the light at the end of my tunnel.

But it wasn’t.

I’ve felt miserable.

I am miserable.

I loathe living on my own.

When The Girl and I are here together we potter around the house, we do chores, we play in the garden and have picnics together and everything is fine….. and then she goes to bed and my happy face falls and I feel completely alone.

I haven’t got the hang of enjoying my own company and I really miss having someone to talk to and I really never thought that making one side of the bed would feel like a knife in my heart each and every day.

I know I sound miserable and I know in time it will get better and things will get easier but it’s so hard to feel any positives.

For now though I’ll smile, I’ll nod, I’ll say I’m fine and take each new day as it comes.

Categories: life

“You want this more than me”

Six words.  Six little words.

Go, on.  Count them.

One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.

Six.  Words.  That.  Broke.  My.  Heart.

I don’t really remember much about the conversation after we’d had it.  But I do remember leaving it feeling like my world had finished right there.  I felt like I’d been walking and walking and I’d reached the edge of something and all that I was faced with was nothing.

I remember crying and crying and crying.

I cried so much I felt empty of tears.

I went home, slapped on my happy face, sorted out The Girl and cried some more. I cried until my face felt burned by tears and until my eyes stung so badly the only respite I had was when they were closed.

But I don’t remember sleeping.  I remember feeling sad and devastated all the way to my very soul.  I swear I could hear my bones sob and what I needed was someone to fix me.  The problem was the one person I needed more than anything else on earth to make everything better was the one person who 3 hours before told me they didn’t want me anymore.

That was is hard to handle.

Thoughts raced through my brain like a relay team passing one baton to another, practical things like the mortgage being in joint names – what would we do?  Where would I I live?  Where would he live?  What would we tell people?  The Girl?

Oh shit, The Girl.  What the hell were we going to tell her?

We decided on nothing.  Not for the moment.  The Hot Geek said we needed to work out what we were going to do now and until that decision had been made she didn’t need to know.  How confusing would it be to be told that Mummy and Daddy aren’t together anymore but continue to live together?

He had a point.  I know he did but it was so hard looking at her smiling happy face knowing her world would be so different soon. It is still so hard.

The Break Up happened at the end of May and my life since is a never ending cycle of unhappiness.

I shower in the morning and I cry.

I make dinner and I cry.

I get into bed and I cry.

Not everyday, but most days.

The Hot Geek asks me what’s wrong, he wants to help, he wants me to not feel sad and I tell him that he can’t help me.  Not anymore because how the can the person who has left me devastated possibly help me feel better?

I know I sound like a broken record, really I do and deep down I’m sick of feeling unhappy, upset and miserable and as much as my head wants to rule my heart and lead the way back to some semblance of happiness I just can’t help it.

I mean, haven’t you ever felt such overwhelming sad??   And not just sad, but heart-in-a-million-pieces-black-soul sad?

And the worst thing about it is sometimes it sneaks up on me like a ninja when I least expect it.

Just when I’ve started to convince myself that I’m doing OK, that I’m ready to try and move on, someone, anyone, looks me square in the eye and asks me how I’m doing and that’s it – I fall to pieces.  I wave goodbye to the Happy Face I’ve spent most of the day wearing and wipe away my facade with my tears and I find myself a sobbing wreck trying desperately to say “I’m fine”.

But I’m not fine.

I’m heartbroken.

I need to retrain myself.

Learn to say new things like ‘I’ and not ‘we’ or ‘us’.

Someone asked me recently if I was single and I said “no” before I quickly corrected myself because I know I am.

Well, my head does.  My heart doesn’t.


What an awful word.

Single.  One.  Lonely.

Those are the thoughts that come to mind when I say it.  That’s how the word makes me feel and it’s odd to think it refers to me now.

It’s hard.  Un-natural.


I’m single.

Why though?  Why is it so hard to say?  Why do I feel so terrified of one little word?

I think it’s because that one little word means I have to find a whole new way of living on my own, with The Girl, without the man I thought would love me forever and it’s that that scares me death.

Categories: life

So… I’ve literally just read The Girl a bedtime story and shortly after she decided she wanted to have a conversation with me.

I shit you not, this is how it went:

The Girl: D’you know Mummy, I am you and you are me?

Me: Really?  Why’s that then?

The Girl: Nanny said so.

Me: Uh-huh and why did she say that?

The Girl: Because when I ask her who am I she say’s I am you.

Me: That’s not true.  Did you tell her you have the name Bridget because I found you under a bridge?

The Girl: *laughing* NO YOU DIDN’T!

Me: Well where do you think you came from?

The Girl: *whispers* God.

Me: Do you?

The Girl: No *hysterical laughing*.  You made me.  Not God.

Me: Did I?

The Girl: Yeah.  Not God.  I don’t believe in God.

Me: *gigles* I did make you, yes. But you don’t believe in God?

The Girl: Nope.  Or Jesus.

Me: If you don’t believe in God and you don’t believe in Jesus… what do you think about the Bible?

The Girl: *more hysterical laughing* Come on Mummy….. it’s just a silly story book!!!!

Me: *open mouthed*

For the record, The Girl attends a Catholic Primary School so for any parents concerned that it might brainwash your child, don’t.  Mine doesn’t believe a word of it !

Categories: life

Disclaimer – I’ve drafted, written and re-written this post several times today.  I’ve hit save as draft and I’ve hovered over ‘delete’ a few times because I’m THAT nervous about publishing it………… but I always said that my blog was my space and if I can’t say it here… then I can’t say it anywhere


Today is my 34th birthday.

That’s right.  34th.

I’ve been dreading today for weeks.

How many exactly?

I don’t know… but quite a few.

I want to say I’ve accepted it and I’m at peace with it.

But that would be a lie.

But this birthday hasn’t arrived without an epiphany of sorts.

And that epiphany is a realisation.

The realisation that I am my own worst enemy.

I wont lie, I’ve been told it before but let’s be honest……. something doesn’t mean shit until you tell it to yourself.

And here’s why:

The Hot Geek and I have been together nearly 5 years and I have never ever loved someone as much.  Scouts honour.

He makes my whole heart happy.

But if you were to ask me if I make that obvious every day I’d have to tell you, with my head hung low in shame, that the answer would be no.

Disgusting eh?

As if that wasn’t bad enough I’ve probably not made loving me back too easy either.

You see, I have a thing.  A Miss Thing actually and she makes me crazy.

She is the evil voice in my head that makes me doubt how he feels.

She is the green eyed monster that rears her ugly head when a pretty, younger girl looks his way.

She is the skinny, carefree, childless woman that can do what she wants, when she wants and is more than ‘just a mum’

But the more I’ve tried to ignore her and pretend she doesn’t exist the worse she’s been.

Her latest rampage has been about my birthday.  She’s taken my insecurities about my age and my child bearing, marriage wanting future and turned it against me.

“Why aren’t you engaged?” she sneers.

“If he loved you like you think he does why hasn’t he asked you”?

“You know why he hasn’t don’t you??  You’re old”

“You’re not getting any younger are you?  You wait much longer and there wont be any point you having more children”

She rampages round my head and a tiny bit of my heart breaks every time she does.

Her voice in recent weeks has been so loud that when I’ve talked about it to friends, they look at me like I’m nuts.

And I am nuts.

But she’s so loud.  She’s been so hard to ignore.

She drowns out all the common sense.

Instead of looking at him and believing what I already know I listen…. and I listen to her.

I allow her free reign in my mind when what I should do is ignore her and look at what’s in front of me.

I should look at what I have.

I’ve been an idiot.

am an idiot.

I’ve finally realised that if I continue to allow her to live in my head I will ruin everything I have and she will win.

And I can’t do that.

I am my own worst enemy, I know that now.

But I’ll tell you what I’m not.

I’m not a loser and I won’t be beaten.

So here it is.

Her eviction notice.

We’ll call it a birthday present to myself.

Categories: life

Dear chap on bike

Whilst I commend you for wanting to do your bit for the environment and cycling please don’t act surprised if I nearly take you off your bike when you dart in front me, at night, with no lights, no helmet and no high viz vest.


Nearly doing time for running you over, Me


Dear bloke in the ice cream van

To the left of your steering wheel you’ll see a small lever.  Pushing it up or down turns the blinking orange light on the outside of your van on and off and lets everyone else on the road know whether you’re turning left or right.

In future, might I suggest you use it BEFORE you pull out in front of me.


Driving without the aide of a crystal ball, Me


Dear Man sitting in the middle of the roundabout

Did you see the words in the white box that you’ve parked over?

No.  Thought not.

Well, the words read KEEP CLEAR and it’s a rule.  Not a request.

Sat waiting for you to move the fuck on, Me.

Categories: life

I have been really, really shit of late.  Looking at the blog, I don’t think I’ve blogged properly since… erm… September I think.

How shit is that?  Actually don’t answer that – I know how shit it is.

So here’s a quick run down on what’s been going on Chez Cherry Red:


First there was The Trade In

I finally traded in my shitty road boat of a car Chrysler for something that didn’t bleed me dry every 6 days…. A Micra.

A shiny, bright red, 1.2 Micra.

When I was looking at getting a new car it needed to fit the following criteria:

* It had to have 5 doors

* The Girl had to have plenty of room in the back

* It had to be economical round town

The Micra ticks all the right boxes and I love it.  Actually, I loved it at the time but that’s another post.  I’m grateful for it if I’m honest – it’s saved me £150 a month in petrol. That’s gotta count for something surely!??

Then there was The Operation.

The Girl had her tonsils out.  Not gonna lie, that week was the worst week of my fucking life.  Horrific is the only way to describe it.

Her operation was scheduled for 17th and she had to be in the hospital by midday which was fine but I really struggled with was not letting her have anything to eat or drink after 7am – especially as didn’t go down for surgery until nearly 5pm by which time my nerves were screwed.

Anyway, surgery went “as expected” and she was back on the ward within 40 minutes and she was as miserable as sin.  Which is fair enough I think when you’re a) 5 years old and b) forced to wake up after being drugged to go to sleep.

She was discharged the following morning and I was given strict instructions to make sure she ate normally and drank plenty.

Eat.  Normally??

Yeah right – like that was going to happen.  Anyone who’s had their tonsils out know how painful it is so getting a whingy, whiny, miserable 5 year old to eat toast and normal food was near impossible but she did manage to eat some foods.

Didn’t do any good though – by Friday the infection in her throat had gotten so bad I had to rush her into A&E where she was readmitted because the infection in her throat was so severe she smelt like rotten flesh and the whole back of her throat was green.

It was disgusting.

want to tell you that I was a model mum and that at no time did I lose my patience with the medical staff but that.. that would be a lie.

For one, I believed she’d been sent home too early and I told the consultant exactly that.  I got no reaction from him at all which did nothing for my mood.

Then there are the ‘protocols’.  Don’t get me wrong, the nurses were brilliant but I was very tired, very worried and The Girl was really ill and some of their rules are just really fucking stupid.

Take for example the one about checking.  You know the one – it says nurses have to constantly check their patient hasn’t morphed into someone else in a short space of time.

The Girl had a catheter because she needed IV antibiotics every two hours.

Now, getting The Girl to tell the nurses her name and date of birth during the day was fine, but what wasn’t fine was the need to wake her up every 2 hours THROUGH THE GOD DAMN night??  I don’t get it?  She was the same girl at 1am that she was at 11pm.  And the same girl at 3am that she was at 1am!?  It was just ridiculous.

But what really, really fucked me off was the fact that the nurse had the gall to complain in the morning that The Girl was miserable and cried a lot.  WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT!?!?  I found myself asking her what she expected of a 5 year old that was unwell and had been woken up every 2 hours through the night.  I think I asked her how she’d have felt if she were the one being disturbed.

Not my finest hour I admit, but still…..


Shit all to report.


My 80 year old Nan fell, broke her nose, ripped her leg open to the bone and needed over 40 stitches to repair it.


The End.

So there you go.

That kind of brings us up to date.

Got loads more to blog about but for now… I think that’ll do.

Categories: life