I love my kids. I absolutely adore them. It's motherhood that I am not so enamoured with. They don't warn you enough when you are pregnant about the full impact that being a mother will have on your life. When I was pregnant with no.1, I was told about the basics of what to expect, but nothing about the emotional impact. But with great love, comes great responsibility.
It was December 1992, the week before Christmas. Ironic really that I had always vowed to never have a child at Christmas time, as my own birthday is the week after, and there I was due to have a baby 4 days before the big event! It was 2 weeks before my 19th birthday and the day before my first baby was due. I'd been told the week before that the head was down and all systems were go for the imminent birth. That night I prayed, not something that I normally do, but I was terrified of giving birth. As soon as I found out that I was pregnant, I knew I did not want to give birth. People thought it was because of my age or that I didn't want the baby, which could not have been further from the truth.
I can't tell you why I didn't want to give birth as I don't know why I felt that way, even now 17 years later. So that night, I prayed that the baby would turn and I would need a caesarean. Because of the time of year, the Dr's called me back in for a check up in case they could induce me so I wouldn't be in over Xmas. It was at that check up that a miracle happened - they baby had turned and was now bum down instead of head down & could not be delivered normally. The dr's were stunned, but I was over the moon - my prayer had been answered! And so, the night before the operation, I had to go in for pre-op checks and although naturally nervous, I was also suprisingly calm. Everything went very well as planned.
Some people say that if you do not give birth, then you do not bond as well with that child. Rubbish. Any woman can carry a child and give birth, but it takes a special kind of woman to be a mum and all that goes with it. I didn't hold my boy until he was 2 days old, but I had alreaady fallen in love with him. But I didn't realise the full strength of that love until a couple of days later. It was Christmas Eve, baby was all tucked up in the little plastic cot things they have in hospitals next to my bed. I was sitting up next to it, leaning over to gently stroke his tiny hand as I watched him sleep. The nurses walked through the wards carol singing and sang Silent Night when they got to my bit of the ward. And then it hit me, this massive wave of complete and unconditional love. I actually felt dizzy from it. It felt like how I imagine driving full speed into a brick wall must feel(but without the pain obviously). I was totally overwhelmed and totally unprepared for it. Why had no-one told me?!
Second time round I was more prepared and also, not scared of giving birth. This time I sailed through pregnancy and baby was born with a lot of pushing, shoving and gas & air. Having done it both ways, I would recommend a caesarean every time! Giving birth is not all it's cracked up to be and certainly made no difference in how I feel about my two boys.
They are teenagers now. I won't lie to you, it's been bloody hard work getting to this point, but it's also been bloody brilliant. I've been struggling lately in coming to terms with the fact that they are getting older and that I'm going to have to let them go and get on with their lives. I've found myself wishing that they were my sweet little babies again. I went from being a kid myself straight into being a mum, so it's all I've known in my adult life.
I can honestly say that I have no regrets. Obviously I do not endorse getting pregnant at 18 as the wisest course of action, but I've been lucky and worked hard at making it turn out alright. I now have two truly amazing young men that I am proud to call sons. They can be complete nightmares and cause me incredible stress (especially kid 1!) but they are also very funny, caring and brilliant people to spend time with. On the days they are being pains, I joke to my friends that do not have kids "urgh, don't have kids, get a cat instead!'. Of course, I don't mean it, well, not everyday!
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
Monday, 18 January 2010
Grumpy = Happy?
Sometimes, I like being grumpy. I find it quite cathartic. There is nothing like having a good old rant and moan about something that has riled you for cleansing the mind. I used to sit near a woman at work and it seemed that at around 3.30 each afternoon, one of us would have a bit of a rant about something and it became almost a ritual in the end.
Now let me be clear. I am not talking about the kind of continuous whingeing and moaning that some people do all the time. You know the type of people - weary, depressing old miseries. And neither am I talking about the ridiculous rantings of people like Victor Meldrew or the irrational hormonal moods of women at certain times of the month. The grumpiness that I am referring to is the kind as witnessed on the TV show 'Grumpy Old Men/Women'. Actually, now I think about it, I take issue with the word grumpy in that context. It's not really grumpiness to expect a certain standard of behaviour from the world around you and then be dissatisfied when confronted with the harsh reality. The grumbles raised in that show are nearly always completely justified and triggered by the sheer stupidity, arrogance, rudeness, thoughtlessness and unacceptable behaviour of other people. Which leads me onto my first grumble...
I hate people. Not all people, obviously, but certainly most people. As Elizabeth Bennet said in Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice'; "There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense". My sentiments exactly!
It seems that every day I am confronted with people that symbolise everything that I hate about the world today. I am not alone in this. My friend J and I often have a rant about the behaviour of people. We joke about how when we run the country these offensive people will be given the choice of either changing their behaviour or being forcibly removed from the country and changing the law to make it illegal to be rude or smell bad. This may smack of some kind of ethnic cleansing, but it's not. It's survival of the thoughtful, polite and clean. Hubby always says that I expect too much from people, that I expect perfection. He is wrong. I don't expect that from everyone. I expect a common standard of manners and behaviour from the general public and a higher standard of behaviour from those that I am close to. Be honest, don't you too? Why would you choose to spend time with people that wind you up?
Is it so wrong to expect decent behaviour from people? When did it become acceptable to turn feral in supermarkets*? Or to see a heavily pregnant woman on the tube, or an elderly person, look directly at then and still not offer up your seat for them? (this applies to men AND women who ignore the less able to stand). Or to talk loudly in the cinema or theatre? Or to drive right up behind someone and flash your lights at them? Or be a frickin' tourist in Trafalgar Square?! OK, that one is acceptable, but it's not acceptable to get in my way when I'm trying to get to work! Smelly people are unacceptable too, along with people that sniff loudly and excessively, say 'anyfink' or 'somefink' instead of anything or something, rude people, lazy, arrogant people, thoughtless and inconsiderate people.
I could go on, but I don't want to give the impression that I am a miserable cow. Cos, I'm not y'know. I'm actually very healthy. People who know about these things say that you can lower your risk of a heart attack by venting these angers and frustrations. I'm also not a hypocrite. I can't very well moan about the behaviour of others if I go around acting like an arse. I try to be a nice person, even to smelly, rude people that sniff! Again, the wise Jane Austen said it better; "There is nothing that I would not do for those who are truly my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not in my nature".
Of course I am not perfect. I have been known to tut loudly at people, yes I know, people that do that annoy me too. I also recently discovered what it was like to experience completely irrational rage. It was in Liverpool Street station. As usual there was a crowd of people waiting to get on the escalator. Everyone was gradually filtering on to the moving staircase in a fairly polite and organised manner, then some bloke cut through all of us, like a hot knife through butter and barged his way on to the escalator without so much as an 'excuse me, I'm in a terrible rush'. I was livid. I glared at the back of his head all the way down to the next level and then did something that I have never done before and that I am not proud of. I got off the escalator, followed the offensive man, who was walking in the opposite direction to where I needed to be going, until I was level with him, jumped in front of him, called him a not very nice name and then turned to carry on my journey home. That's not normal behaviour. Who was the bigger criminal in that scenario? Him for being a thoughtless, rude tosspot or me for being an aggressive objector to his behaviour? You decide.
One thing I do agree with my hubby about is that I hold a grudge for too long (the event in the station happened 6 weeks ago and I still can't let it go!) and should learn to not let stupid people get to me so badly. Which leads me to my final point and my final Jane Austen quote; "I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself". Perhaps if I did, I would not have need for this blog or to make a New Years resolution to be happy! But, show me someone who does not enjoy having a good old moan and I will show you a goody two-shoes liar!
Love
HH
xx
*a friend of mine told me that he was in Tesco over the Christmas period and had an item in his hand. Apparently a female shopper walked up to him, took it out of his hand, looked at it and then put it back on the shelf. By all accounts this wasn't just an unfortunate encounter with the local nutter, but a perfectly normal woman. My friend said he was so stunned that he didn't react beyond standing there open mouthed at her audacity. That story scared me, because I know that if that had happened to me, I probably would have gone supernova with rage.
Now let me be clear. I am not talking about the kind of continuous whingeing and moaning that some people do all the time. You know the type of people - weary, depressing old miseries. And neither am I talking about the ridiculous rantings of people like Victor Meldrew or the irrational hormonal moods of women at certain times of the month. The grumpiness that I am referring to is the kind as witnessed on the TV show 'Grumpy Old Men/Women'. Actually, now I think about it, I take issue with the word grumpy in that context. It's not really grumpiness to expect a certain standard of behaviour from the world around you and then be dissatisfied when confronted with the harsh reality. The grumbles raised in that show are nearly always completely justified and triggered by the sheer stupidity, arrogance, rudeness, thoughtlessness and unacceptable behaviour of other people. Which leads me onto my first grumble...
I hate people. Not all people, obviously, but certainly most people. As Elizabeth Bennet said in Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice'; "There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense". My sentiments exactly!
It seems that every day I am confronted with people that symbolise everything that I hate about the world today. I am not alone in this. My friend J and I often have a rant about the behaviour of people. We joke about how when we run the country these offensive people will be given the choice of either changing their behaviour or being forcibly removed from the country and changing the law to make it illegal to be rude or smell bad. This may smack of some kind of ethnic cleansing, but it's not. It's survival of the thoughtful, polite and clean. Hubby always says that I expect too much from people, that I expect perfection. He is wrong. I don't expect that from everyone. I expect a common standard of manners and behaviour from the general public and a higher standard of behaviour from those that I am close to. Be honest, don't you too? Why would you choose to spend time with people that wind you up?
Is it so wrong to expect decent behaviour from people? When did it become acceptable to turn feral in supermarkets*? Or to see a heavily pregnant woman on the tube, or an elderly person, look directly at then and still not offer up your seat for them? (this applies to men AND women who ignore the less able to stand). Or to talk loudly in the cinema or theatre? Or to drive right up behind someone and flash your lights at them? Or be a frickin' tourist in Trafalgar Square?! OK, that one is acceptable, but it's not acceptable to get in my way when I'm trying to get to work! Smelly people are unacceptable too, along with people that sniff loudly and excessively, say 'anyfink' or 'somefink' instead of anything or something, rude people, lazy, arrogant people, thoughtless and inconsiderate people.
I could go on, but I don't want to give the impression that I am a miserable cow. Cos, I'm not y'know. I'm actually very healthy. People who know about these things say that you can lower your risk of a heart attack by venting these angers and frustrations. I'm also not a hypocrite. I can't very well moan about the behaviour of others if I go around acting like an arse. I try to be a nice person, even to smelly, rude people that sniff! Again, the wise Jane Austen said it better; "There is nothing that I would not do for those who are truly my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not in my nature".
Of course I am not perfect. I have been known to tut loudly at people, yes I know, people that do that annoy me too. I also recently discovered what it was like to experience completely irrational rage. It was in Liverpool Street station. As usual there was a crowd of people waiting to get on the escalator. Everyone was gradually filtering on to the moving staircase in a fairly polite and organised manner, then some bloke cut through all of us, like a hot knife through butter and barged his way on to the escalator without so much as an 'excuse me, I'm in a terrible rush'. I was livid. I glared at the back of his head all the way down to the next level and then did something that I have never done before and that I am not proud of. I got off the escalator, followed the offensive man, who was walking in the opposite direction to where I needed to be going, until I was level with him, jumped in front of him, called him a not very nice name and then turned to carry on my journey home. That's not normal behaviour. Who was the bigger criminal in that scenario? Him for being a thoughtless, rude tosspot or me for being an aggressive objector to his behaviour? You decide.
One thing I do agree with my hubby about is that I hold a grudge for too long (the event in the station happened 6 weeks ago and I still can't let it go!) and should learn to not let stupid people get to me so badly. Which leads me to my final point and my final Jane Austen quote; "I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself". Perhaps if I did, I would not have need for this blog or to make a New Years resolution to be happy! But, show me someone who does not enjoy having a good old moan and I will show you a goody two-shoes liar!
Love
HH
xx
*a friend of mine told me that he was in Tesco over the Christmas period and had an item in his hand. Apparently a female shopper walked up to him, took it out of his hand, looked at it and then put it back on the shelf. By all accounts this wasn't just an unfortunate encounter with the local nutter, but a perfectly normal woman. My friend said he was so stunned that he didn't react beyond standing there open mouthed at her audacity. That story scared me, because I know that if that had happened to me, I probably would have gone supernova with rage.
Saturday, 16 January 2010
NOT A Crazy Cat Lady!
As I mentioned in my previous post, cats are in my list of things that make me happy, but let me make one thing quite clear and listen up cos it's important.....I AM NOT A CRAZY CAT LADY! It's the hubby and 2 teenage sons that have driven me half mad, not the cats. They are just guilty by association.
In fact, I don't actually like cats. I'm allergic to cats. Hubby likes cats. So we compromised and we got a cat. Actually it's a longer story than that and it begins with the demise of poor ole Bubbles the Hamster.....
Bubbles was the first pet of my youngest son and was a real little character, well, as much as a tiny ball of orange fluff can have a personality. One day Bubbles got ill. Picture the scene, Christmas Eve '07, vets consultation room, my son is standing next to me holding the little cage containing Bubbles in her weak and desperately frail state. The inevitable had happened, the illness had taken over poor little Bubbles and the only humane thing to do was to have her put out of her misery. Yep, that's right, my sons first beloved pet was put to sleep on Christmas Eve!
And so, we bravely battle through Christmas as cheerfully as we can and the Saturday after the big day, my son decides he wants to get gerbils to help him get over Bubbles. So hubby and I drive the kid to a pet shop where he makes a beeline for the back of the shop to the gerbil cages, closely followed by hubby. I slowly bring up the rear, in no rush to look at small rodents scuttling around in glass boxes, they weird me out. The shop owners son is standing in the middle of the shop with his back to me. As I make my way to the back of the shop, he turns towards me and in his arms is the tiniest, cutest little black/brown kitten that has ever existed.
At this point we should refer to my earlier comment that I don't like cats and am also severely allergic to cats. Hubby likes cats and at one time, before he met me, he had loads of them and has always said it's the one thing missing in our family life, but each time he has badgered me about getting a cat, I pull out the allergy card.
Anyway, back to the pet shop...
The kid holding this beautiful kitten asks me if I want to hold her and to this day I have no idea why a seemingly sane and normal person with a severe allergy to cats would give this answer...."yes please!!". And that was it. I was smitten with the kitten. She was so tiny, so perfect and so terrified she was shaking. The chap said that not 20 mins before we walked in the shop, some guy had come in with her under his coat saying she was 6 weeks old, weaned and needed to be found a good home. My heart melted as this black with ever so feint brown stripes cat with the most beautiful face nuzzled into me. I turned to the hubby with every intention of saying "aww wook at da widdle puddy tat, can we keep her? pleeeeease?" which probably would have been said in a voice so high pitched that only the kitten would have been able to hear it, but as it was, I didn't need to say anything as he took one look at her nestled in my arms and said "We'll take her!"
That's the story of how we got T and how I came to need to take high strength, anti allergy tablets every day of my life. She is just over 2 years old now and has the sleekest black fur which has lost the brown stripes, but she does have a few strands of white fur on her chest and one of her paws. She still has the most beautiful face and lovely eyes. In fact, I would be so bold as to state that T is the most beautiful and regal cat that has ever lived or ever will live. She is better than all of us and boy does she know it!
Now, this next bit is going to sound weird, but T is more than just a family pet. She is kinda like my soul mate. Stay with me here - I still stand by my 'I am not a crazy cat person' declaration. I have had a rough couple of years and one of the things that helped me through it was T. She was always first on the scene if I was upset and would just lay next to me, looking at me with her beautiful green eyes and listened to my sobbing and rambling. She is able to make me feel instantly better every time. She is also an excellent judge of character and does not suffer fools gladly. An example of this was the first time she met my step-daughter* and took an instant dislike to her and clawed her to buggery!
T's somewhat aloof behaviour is always aimed at others and never at me, just ask our other 3 cats - B, P and BB, all of whom you will get to meet in due course.
I still don't like cats. Only mine are acceptable and adorable. And they make me very very happy.
Love
HH
xxx
*If at some time in the future my step-daughter and I resolve our differences and she subsequently discovers this blog, then I apologise for talking about how pleased I was that T disliked you so vehemently. If, however, we still have a weird relationship and you still find out about his blog, then tough shit, you shouldn't have been a bitch to me!
In fact, I don't actually like cats. I'm allergic to cats. Hubby likes cats. So we compromised and we got a cat. Actually it's a longer story than that and it begins with the demise of poor ole Bubbles the Hamster.....
Bubbles was the first pet of my youngest son and was a real little character, well, as much as a tiny ball of orange fluff can have a personality. One day Bubbles got ill. Picture the scene, Christmas Eve '07, vets consultation room, my son is standing next to me holding the little cage containing Bubbles in her weak and desperately frail state. The inevitable had happened, the illness had taken over poor little Bubbles and the only humane thing to do was to have her put out of her misery. Yep, that's right, my sons first beloved pet was put to sleep on Christmas Eve!
And so, we bravely battle through Christmas as cheerfully as we can and the Saturday after the big day, my son decides he wants to get gerbils to help him get over Bubbles. So hubby and I drive the kid to a pet shop where he makes a beeline for the back of the shop to the gerbil cages, closely followed by hubby. I slowly bring up the rear, in no rush to look at small rodents scuttling around in glass boxes, they weird me out. The shop owners son is standing in the middle of the shop with his back to me. As I make my way to the back of the shop, he turns towards me and in his arms is the tiniest, cutest little black/brown kitten that has ever existed.
At this point we should refer to my earlier comment that I don't like cats and am also severely allergic to cats. Hubby likes cats and at one time, before he met me, he had loads of them and has always said it's the one thing missing in our family life, but each time he has badgered me about getting a cat, I pull out the allergy card.
Anyway, back to the pet shop...
The kid holding this beautiful kitten asks me if I want to hold her and to this day I have no idea why a seemingly sane and normal person with a severe allergy to cats would give this answer...."yes please!!". And that was it. I was smitten with the kitten. She was so tiny, so perfect and so terrified she was shaking. The chap said that not 20 mins before we walked in the shop, some guy had come in with her under his coat saying she was 6 weeks old, weaned and needed to be found a good home. My heart melted as this black with ever so feint brown stripes cat with the most beautiful face nuzzled into me. I turned to the hubby with every intention of saying "aww wook at da widdle puddy tat, can we keep her? pleeeeease?" which probably would have been said in a voice so high pitched that only the kitten would have been able to hear it, but as it was, I didn't need to say anything as he took one look at her nestled in my arms and said "We'll take her!"
That's the story of how we got T and how I came to need to take high strength, anti allergy tablets every day of my life. She is just over 2 years old now and has the sleekest black fur which has lost the brown stripes, but she does have a few strands of white fur on her chest and one of her paws. She still has the most beautiful face and lovely eyes. In fact, I would be so bold as to state that T is the most beautiful and regal cat that has ever lived or ever will live. She is better than all of us and boy does she know it!
Now, this next bit is going to sound weird, but T is more than just a family pet. She is kinda like my soul mate. Stay with me here - I still stand by my 'I am not a crazy cat person' declaration. I have had a rough couple of years and one of the things that helped me through it was T. She was always first on the scene if I was upset and would just lay next to me, looking at me with her beautiful green eyes and listened to my sobbing and rambling. She is able to make me feel instantly better every time. She is also an excellent judge of character and does not suffer fools gladly. An example of this was the first time she met my step-daughter* and took an instant dislike to her and clawed her to buggery!
T's somewhat aloof behaviour is always aimed at others and never at me, just ask our other 3 cats - B, P and BB, all of whom you will get to meet in due course.
I still don't like cats. Only mine are acceptable and adorable. And they make me very very happy.
Love
HH
xxx
*If at some time in the future my step-daughter and I resolve our differences and she subsequently discovers this blog, then I apologise for talking about how pleased I was that T disliked you so vehemently. If, however, we still have a weird relationship and you still find out about his blog, then tough shit, you shouldn't have been a bitch to me!
New Year, Schnew Year
December 31st 2009. New Year's Eve. The end of the year, nay the end of a decade in fact! Meh, whatever. I am so not in the mood for celebrating. At the end of 2008 I made a big deal about marking the end of a pretty crappy year and how 2009 was going to be so much better and full of promise and positivity....it wasn't. 2009 turned out to be worse than it's predecessor. Therefore, that's why I was in no mood for marking the end of the 00's. We, that's me and the hubby, watched the fireworks on the telly and went to bed. No fanfare, no champagne, no party.
Every year I make unrealistic, far fetched resolutions. I will lose weight. I will go to the gym. I will go for promotion at work. I will be more positive. I will try to be a better wife and mum. I won't watch reality TV programmes. They never last. I always end up putting on weight and watching Big Brother.
And so, after the steaming pile of crapola that was '08 & '09, I decided to keep it simple. I made just one simple resolution; To Be Happy. That's what this blog is about. The things that will help me to finally keep one of my New Year resolutions. Don't expect anything deep and philosophical here. We are going to be delving into the things that make me happy. Simple things that make me smile, laugh or get that warm gooey feeling when I think of them. This process of identification and recognition of what makes me happy will help me to be a happier and more positive person throughout 2010 and hopefully beyond. And if by chance you happen upon this blog whilst idly surfing the Internet and reading about some of these things helps you, the reader, then RESULT! It's a win-win innit?!
So what kind of things make me happy? Well, off the top of my head, New York City, music, shopping, baking, eating, singing, reading, laughing really hard till my eyes water, tidying and organising, things being exactly in their place, ranting about small things that wind me up beyond belief, Strictly Come Dancing, talking about poo with my friend J, my husband and my kids* and my cats**. That is by no means in any kind of order or exhaustive obviously, and no doubt when I read this back in the future I will wonder why I left off this or that, but never mind. Future me will just have to get over it.
If you fancy it, why don't you stop what you're doing and have quick think about what makes you happy? Anything interesting spring to mind? Feel free to add your thoughts to the comments bit of the posts. I love being a nosey bint and know what makes others smile! Ooh, I should have added that to my list!
Love
HH
xxx
*If I ever tell my kids about this blog, they will be surprised to read that they make me happy. They are teenagers at the time of writing this, and as any parent of 2 teenage boys will agree, there is little joy in living with teenagers, however, as my ex-mother-in-law used to say 'if you didn't have kids, you'd have none to make you laugh and none to make you cry'. Both my boys have made me do both on numerous occasions and for numerous reasons. They have also made me want to kick them in the shins and runaway when they are at their most 'teenage'!
**Do not be put off my the mention of cats. I am not a crazy cat lady. It's living with a hubby and 2 teenage sons that makes me crazy. Not the cats. They are just guilty by association.
Every year I make unrealistic, far fetched resolutions. I will lose weight. I will go to the gym. I will go for promotion at work. I will be more positive. I will try to be a better wife and mum. I won't watch reality TV programmes. They never last. I always end up putting on weight and watching Big Brother.
And so, after the steaming pile of crapola that was '08 & '09, I decided to keep it simple. I made just one simple resolution; To Be Happy. That's what this blog is about. The things that will help me to finally keep one of my New Year resolutions. Don't expect anything deep and philosophical here. We are going to be delving into the things that make me happy. Simple things that make me smile, laugh or get that warm gooey feeling when I think of them. This process of identification and recognition of what makes me happy will help me to be a happier and more positive person throughout 2010 and hopefully beyond. And if by chance you happen upon this blog whilst idly surfing the Internet and reading about some of these things helps you, the reader, then RESULT! It's a win-win innit?!
So what kind of things make me happy? Well, off the top of my head, New York City, music, shopping, baking, eating, singing, reading, laughing really hard till my eyes water, tidying and organising, things being exactly in their place, ranting about small things that wind me up beyond belief, Strictly Come Dancing, talking about poo with my friend J, my husband and my kids* and my cats**. That is by no means in any kind of order or exhaustive obviously, and no doubt when I read this back in the future I will wonder why I left off this or that, but never mind. Future me will just have to get over it.
If you fancy it, why don't you stop what you're doing and have quick think about what makes you happy? Anything interesting spring to mind? Feel free to add your thoughts to the comments bit of the posts. I love being a nosey bint and know what makes others smile! Ooh, I should have added that to my list!
Love
HH
xxx
*If I ever tell my kids about this blog, they will be surprised to read that they make me happy. They are teenagers at the time of writing this, and as any parent of 2 teenage boys will agree, there is little joy in living with teenagers, however, as my ex-mother-in-law used to say 'if you didn't have kids, you'd have none to make you laugh and none to make you cry'. Both my boys have made me do both on numerous occasions and for numerous reasons. They have also made me want to kick them in the shins and runaway when they are at their most 'teenage'!
**Do not be put off my the mention of cats. I am not a crazy cat lady. It's living with a hubby and 2 teenage sons that makes me crazy. Not the cats. They are just guilty by association.
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