Living with "The Brain"

Ok I have just googled living with someone who is smarter than you.  It dropped me to a "Prince" fansite forum. I should have just stopped reading there really.  Along with the "Prince" fan club there were a few pages on, dating someone more intelligent, get yourself more intelligent, find someone more intelligent, is some one more intelligent better in bed, you know the stuff, and having scrolled past these annoying links I found a void, nothing, nada which leads me to writing this blog post.

Firstly I don't consider myself particularly dumb, and I am betting most of you reading this don't think you are either and we are all probably right.  In Western society intelligence isn't as high on the priority list of things that make your life a success as it is in the East.  We Westerners tend to value assets, wealth and good looks over higher brain function.  Aspiring to be more Katie Price or Kim Kardasian than great thinkers.  I know I know there are exceptions, of course there are.  But living with a teenage girl, hair and makeup still come up way to high on the list of things that are important in her life than I'd like them to.

Anyway back to my point.  We are a family that value education and experience, we are a family that encourages lateral thinking in all our children, while trying to lower their materialistic wants, we go for walks, we explore, we invite opinion and we respect their values and encourage them to express and grow them. Which is great and exactly what we wanted to do as parents but as the second born is starting to come in to his own regards his footprint on the world its definitely becoming more of a challenge. Let me now introduce a further dynamic in to this scenario.  Daddy is a big brainer, daddy has a monster IQ. Now this is a blessing and a curse for us all.  Living with someone who, while has always respected people, but felt always able to think 12 steps ahead of them, is not easy.  We all love daddy's big brain, we all use it for our own selfish needs and we all get frustrated with it when it doesn't have the answer we are looking for or isn't working very well.  Poor daddy has to deal with this as his family, and sometimes even daddy gets frustrated with his brain too.

Living with a man who is very smart should come with its own handbook and while these web pages claim to be able to tame the brain I would beg to differ somewhat. So this is my guide to living with someone smarter than you.

Step one: Keep a list, mental or paper of exactly where he/she has put their stuff because at some point you will be accused of moving it and not remembering where you have put it, even through you haven't been near said item for 6 months.

Step two: Let them get on with it, when intelligent children are arguing with intelligent parent, stay the hell out of it.  Otherwise they'll both either look at you like you've gone mad, start shouting at you that "clearly you don't understand" or ask your opinion (this is almost the most deadly thing that can happen around a dinner table)

Step three: Live with the fact that you intelligent partner will have massively high expectations of you.  Ultimately they've decided to shack up with you, and as they are intelligent this must be the right decision therefore if at any point you fall below practically perfect or almost as good as them, they will get all flustered and start doubting their decision making ability and then the world will start caving in on itself.

Step four: Improve you memory.  Living with someone with a massive brain means you need to remember stuff, events, birthdays, days planned out, anything day to day or mundane.  They are far to busy thinking about all the outcomes of every possible eventuality in every possible parallel universe and therefore can't possibly remember its your mother's birthday next week.  Please don't expect them to its just not going to happen.

Step five: Explain what you want from them clearly, concisely and to the point.  Don't be all wishy washy with your own needs, tell them when you are upset but don't do it wild man of Borneo style, it just won't get through.  Explain why you need them to do a certain thing, or why they have to be in a certain place at a certain time, but don't go giving them the entire back story as to why this needs to happen, they'll just switch off and start daydreaming about something else and then they will miss the important thing you wanted to tell them, keep it short.

Now if I can just stick to this 5 step plan myself harmony in the home won't even need to be thought about.

Always looks so easy when its written down doesn't it......

Turning the big 40 & what it means for a woman.....

This weekend I hit the big 4.0 !! I know hard to believe its finally arrived, middle age..eek.

To be honest though I think I am in a better place turning 40 than I was turning 30.  10 years ago I was fairly newly married had a young child and was pregnant with my second.  It wasn't an easy pregnancy being as I was poorly through most of it and so I spent the first part of my 30th year being either sick or at the hospital getting check ups while also dealing with a grieving husband whose Father had died 3 weeks after we found out we were expecting.  Then over the next few years came the ups and downs of new babies, house moves and feelings of loneliness and separation.

Today as I start my 40's my children while still young are a lot more independent of me.  Our family unit is complete and everyone is just getting on with the business of growing up.  Yes of course there are still the daily stresses that everyone goes through.  I live with my mother for goodness sake so I know all about them, there just isn't the emotional upheaval there was 10 years ago.

If I look back on that time with a honest appraisal I can clearly see how things between hubbies and I went so down hill.  Neither of us were prepared for what losing a parent while gaining a child would do to us emotionally and mentally.  While we thought we were probably coping ok, we were in actual fact feathers on the wind being blown this way and that managing to connect briefly only to be pushed apart by another big gust of wind ie work, money worries, demands of family raising, other ties with people and each other if I am honest.  The fact we managed to get through any of it is a pure and simple testimony to how much we love each other.

When we first met 15 years ago it felt like old souls reunited through reincarnation with a deep and basic need for each other that surprised both of us, as I don't think either of us had experience such a depth of emotion for anyone else in our lives before.  In actual fact as time has gone on and with all we have put each other through that basic primal need for each other is still as strong as ever.

So here I am starting my 40's with "the love of my life" (not words I say lightly by any stretch of the imagination) by my side ready to hold my hand while we walk forward towards the rest of our lives.  We have promised to be good to one another, to not take each other for granted, to support each other and to never let the other one face anything alone.  We have plans to travel as soon as the youngest is old enough. China is our first port of call then off to the other parts of the Far East. We plan to share the joys of grandchildren together whenever they turn up and we plan to always take time for one another and never again get so wrapped up in our own heads that we stop the most important people from getting in close.

For this year and for the next few we've still got to see our babies through puberty, first loves, exams, university and everything else they'll need to get them to adulthood.  Which is its own adventure, and when that's done we can look forward to our time together to feed our thirst for new & for learning.  There's no fear now, no insecurity, its as if the circle has come back on its self.  I laugh when I catch him looking at some skirt, he's a man they all do it that doesn't mean for 1 single second he would rather have that and lose me, in fact I know that for sure he doesn't want anyone else, he has proved that time and time again.  He knows how much I love him too, he's not worried or insecure about who I am or what I think.  He doesn't fret if I don't phone, or immediately assume I am going to do the dirty on him.  All that pressure and fear we put on each other before is just gone, wiped clean.

Don't get me wrong, I still have my days, my hormones are a bastard but eventually even that will pass, he just has to avoid me for a few days each month till it clears and I have to keep taking those vitamin B's lol

All I can say is hello 40's I've got the door wide open and I am welcoming you in because I'm a little bit older and a little wiser and I ready to face whatever you throw at me...

Meeting my mother-in-law again, teaching me about alzheimers and dementia

Through no fault of anyone really but through circumstances I haven't had very much contact with my kids Nanny on their Dads side.  A little dot of a woman, who in my memory of her when him & I first got together was fiercely protective of her family and very proud of her kids. She always struck me as someone not to mess with, but if she accepted you she'd be as welcoming and loving as if you were her own flesh and blood. 

Now this woman, who'd worked all her life, who had a wicked sense of humour and a sharp eagle eyed brain, came to visit us for the first time in 3 years. Hubbie had told me that she was suffering with Alzheimer's and dementia and over the last few years it had really taken its toll.  He warned me that she might not know who I am or that she might say something inappropriate so I was fairly apprehensive about the visit.

Having heard about Alzheimer's from the media and from friends who work in the elderly care industry, I knew that she might become quite upset if she felt lost or she didn't comprehend what was happening around her which is totally understandable.  I was worried that the kids would freak her out, or not be gentle and frighten her with their loud boyish behaviour.  She is very very fragile, being very underweight but apart from needing to bulk up a bit she is surprisingly fit ( well maybe not surprising, she has good strong Irish genes running through her core ).  

Anyway I really didn't need to worry about any of these things.  After the long journey up Hubbie brought her in to the house and while she looked tired, she immediately gave me a massive cuddle, and said "I haven't seen you for such a long time Caroline" I nearly burst into tears there and then.

We settled her in with a cup of tea, I put her slippers on for her and the kids settled down next to her on the sofa.  For the next few hours we talked, drank tea and smoked cigarettes (in the garden).  Rather than being overwhelmed by being in a strange environment she seemed to relish it, constantly remarking on how lovely the house is, rather than not remembering who I was, it was if I had seen her last week with the warmth and friendship still strong. The children adored being with her and she in turn was gentle and calm with them, watching them playing and commenting on how like their father they are at the same age (like we all didn't know lol) 

I found her a proud woman still, wanting to be productive and feeling apologetic when I would help her, though I constantly told her it was my pleasure.  She couldn't quite remember the names of all our animals though to be fair I have trouble sometimes, but she would ask their names when she'd forgotten them as it seemed knowing this was important. Sometimes I would look at her and she seemed lost in thought which maybe she was, but she would come round quite quickly when she saw a familiar face which I was grateful mine was one of them. There was none of the aggression that I had read about, and I tried to involve her with all the conversations that were going on, asking her opinion or her advice, or asking her to draw on a memory from long ago.  We talked of Hubbies dad and how she always wishes him a goodnight still, and the day he left our lives. I told her I think he's been to visit since then and that pleased her.

So for me it seemed for the most part she was lucid, engaged and involved with the family and not this distant vacant shell of a person I was worried I would find.  For the most part she was still my mother in law of old. But sometimes, when she got tired, or when the kids had got too much, she seemed to lose herself, and where she was, the confusion clouded her face but I would spot this quickly, draw her attention and engage her again and this seemed to help a great deal.

It was a lovely 2 days, and I was extremely proud of how the kids fussed and showered Nanny with affection, sometimes to the point it left her speechless.  We all agreed that the trip had been a success and that Nanny was to definitely come and stay again,  hopefully her second visit will be as successful, as she's already mentioned a BBQ in the summer and I suggested a little walk round our lovely town as well for next time.

We don't have links to the past for long and I am just so glad we've still got enough time for the children to benefit from both Nanny's and to get to know both sides of their heritage, she also allows me a little look into where my Hubbie comes from too :-).

Roll on the next visit, though will remind Hubbie to bring her coat with next time bless her and I will make sure there is lots of bacon in lol !!!

The 10 years plus Valentine's poem

There is no man other than you, even after all we've been through
No man who makes my heart flutter, who I'd live with in the gutter
No man whose pants I sniff to see, if they are clean or dirty
No man whose spots I squeeze or eyebrow hairs I'd pluck
No man whose arse I'd rescue if ever he got stuck
No man whose tea I make with a dash of love
From round the world and up above
No man who makes me laugh and weep
Who snores so loud and stops my sleep
No man who puts up with all my worries
Who copes with me and my spending flurries
No man whose dreams I cherish as if they were my own
Except the man I married and only him alone.

Love you

Lessons in love, the things the films don't teach us.

An open letter to the one I love

Where to begin, well one could almost start at my conception because my parents did love each but I think that might be a bit too far back. So I will start with the first heartbreak....

My daughter is 16 now this was the age I had my first serious boyfriend and we dated for 2 years.  If you ask me now why we were together for that long I couldn't for a second tell you but we were and inevitably as these things often do things fizzled out between us and we went our separate ways.  I then met a boy and fell "in love" again (well at least I thought I was in love) we were together 2 years, moved out and then 3 years later my eldest was born.  I was 23, not old but not excessively to young either.  At first glance we would have seemed a normal young couple with an adorable baby in tow.  We both had good jobs, a house with a mortgage and did everything normal families do spending lots of time with each others in laws, family holidays and nights on the sofa.  But as the years rolled by I realised this guy I was with, the father to my beautiful daughter wasn't who I thought he would be, I know this sometimes happens when couples have a baby.  There was no passion in our relationship, no spark or fire.  He was totally closed off with his feelings, never sharing moments with me.  I would look at our daughter and a rush of love would overcome me and I would kiss her all over, he would look at her and there was nothing but a blank stare.  Maybe he was too young to have kids, he never told me he loved me and he never told her either.  I got more and more depressed and lonely as time went on, no fairy tale for this 26 year old.

In the meantime a guy had started work at the place I worked at.  I didn't pay much attention to him at first, I was to busy with my little girl and feeling sorry for myself but then he came to work in the office where I was and for the first time since he'd started we actually had a chance to talk. In the first few weeks I found out we had lots of likes and dislikes in common but our lives were polar opposites of each other.  He went out partying every weekend and I was home with my baby, he still lived at home with his parents, I had a mortgage and in laws to deal with. So while we made each other laugh and we began to enjoy each others company there were a good few things about each other that the other one couldn't agree with (I should have seen the signs lol). Time went on and I started to enjoy going to work a hell of alot more, looking forward to catching the ten minutes chat with my new "friend" and slowing but surely we began the age old ritual of flirting.  

By the time I'd realised I had grown to have deep feelings for this guy, things at home for me where horrible and he'd also broken up with his long term girlfriend.  So in March 2001 I decided I had enough of trying to make it work with a guy who spent as little time with me and his daughter as possible and who would spend every night with his back turned away from me, I was 27 for god sake not 87 and still wanted a life. I left with a few possessions, the baby and the dog and went back to my mum's.  Within a week the "office guy" and I had our first date.  He told me afterwards that he'd spent a long time erming and arring about whether getting with me was really such a good idea, considering I was the bosses daughter and he was a mere lackey.

Within two months of us "dating" he went down on one knee and proposed and of course I immediately accepted, I knew I loved him, he was amazing with my daughter and they adored each other and he made me feel loved, wanted, interesting to talk to and worth spending time with.  We were married just 6 months after that first date (he wanted sooner but I wasn't going to rush my wedding day to much lol). We moved into our own home just days before the wedding and settled in to family life quickly.

I wish I could say its been a fairy tale ride since then, but nobody gives you a guide on how to love another person, we don't get taught it as part of the curriculum. Two further babies later though and I can honestly say we have made each other work for our love.  We have pushed each other to beyond our limits, to dark dark places and in to the arms of others but still the pull of those strings of love, the bonds that tied us first together are as strong as ever.  

And as each year, each month, each day that passes, we learn together, we grow together.  We still fight, that's normal, we still have vastly different opinions on things.  We still like to tell each other about new and interesting discoveries we've made.  I still hate admitting I am wrong and he is right, he still hates the way I find it hard to get myself motivated in the mornings or when I sound like my mother. He likes watching films, I like watching American cop shows but still when we talk to our children we talk with one voice (literally saying the exact same thing at the exact same time lol) We hold the same values, the same ideals, the same desire to allow our children to be the best they can be.  I've learnt how to be a an adult again rather than just a mum, I think he's found that refreshing, he's accepted there are parts of his life he hasn't dealt with in the best way possible and I respect him for that.  We still find each other sexy, we still find each other funny, we still respect each other and we can still feel like throttling each other at times but through all this I think I have finally learnt what it means to love another human being and to be loved by another human being and though its been a hard lesson to learn it has also been the most amazing, long may it last !!

I love you x

    

Give it up for the slow roast and other dinners they hate

As awful as it is to say and totally non PC, being born female a layer of expectation is already being placed on me from the minute I draw my first breath in the world.

One of these is an innate predisposed ability to cook.  Whether it be just the pressure of tradition or the natural maternal instinct to feed our off spring, women on the most part are the main cooks in any given home anywhere in the world.

There is only one slight problem for me with this whole set up and that is the fact I don't actually like doing it. While I like the praise for a meal well prepared and the pleasure of seeing faces enjoying the meal I have placed in front of them none of it makes up for the pain and drudgery of having to not only think what I can make but then go about preparing it.

Don't get me wrong there are days when I am totally up for the challenge and feel positive about the food I am making.  I take pride in adding flavours together and challenging myself to push the boundaries of my food comfort zone.  But unfortunately these days are few and far between, given that anything new I put in front of my darling children at least one of them will turn their pretty little noses up at it.

I don't know about you guys, but my heart breaks alittle when I spend all day cooking and they refuse to eat it and then the next day I present them with chicken nuggets and the wolf it down.  Persistence, you may say, or even, they will look back and appreciate your efforts one day, which quite possibly is true, but you couple this normal parent/child relationship with the fact I don't actually like cooking and you hit an impasse.  I don't like doing it, they don't like eating it. Where do I go from here?

I could give in and just make pizza and nuggets everyday but that goes against every parenting bone in my body.  I was brought up on meat, veg and potatoes every night, how can i possibly not do that for my children as well, plus the other grown ups in the house might complain slightly as they would find a diet based solely on stick it in the oven jobs rather hard to swallow (excuse the pun).

There's always the other possibility of simply handing the job on to someone else, but we all know that's never going to happen unless I drop dead or something.  I could just cook meals I like every day and have everyone complain at me but not give a toss as I would be eating something I like. I could try and get the kids more involved with the cooking but past experience has left me rather scared by these events and the kids are probably traumatised still to this day.  I could go on strike until they all agree to promise to always eat whatever I put before them, but I am pretty sure we'd all starve before this happened.

So my only conclusion is I keep plodding on till they all leave home as most mothers do, then get complained at bitterly that I always cook far to much for "just the two of us" while I'm secretly hoping that one of the kids will pop in and fancy something to eat.

Oh Sh*t its 2014 already

Lord, one minute I was panicking about what to buy people, how I was going to pay for it and will they think I'm a cheapskate because I only got them chocolates and the next we are here, New Year!

What a whirlwind, not in the sense that our time has been taken up with relentless parties and endless entertaining because quite frankly its been a quiet one.  Its more the roller coaster of emotions that have been running through the house on a daily basis.  Don't get me wrong they have mostly been positive ones, with hyperactive giggling children, semi drunk over loving teenagers and the continuing honeymoon period of my current relationship but there has been a few dents in the whole rose tinted merriment of the holiday season.

For instance the slight panic I felt on Christmas eve with the prospect of 60 odd presents still to wrapped at 7pm and my designated helper gently snoring on the sofa.  This panic state was quickly averted by me also putting my head down and then us waking up together at 10pm and commencing the wrapping until 1am Christmas morning..See no problem really until of course we were woken up at 5am by 2 very excited little people.

Then there was the Boxing Day or otherwise known as, Mum's 70th birthday, moment of surrealism where we presented Mum with her birthday present...(a meat grinder) which she proceeded to completely unwrap take out the box and study intently. Leaving, what I would consider, some rather gruesome looking apparatus to hand and a strange glint in her eye as she handled the sausage maker expectantly.  I spent the rest of the day with the music of Sweeney Todd randomly popping in to my head at inopportune moments.

Then there was the rather unpleasant news on the 28th where we discovered that the house has damp via an email with alot of red writing and capitalisation in it. This was while we were trying to enjoy a local kids Christmas disco, which had already been slightly spoiled by the fact that Santa had run out of Christmas presents for all the children and had had to make a quick exit back to the sodding North Pole and back again (well that's what it felt like time wise) to magically provide presents to appease all the parents who'd paid the £5 for this enchanting event (tube of milky buttons, not impressed, to be honest though the kids couldn't have cared less of it was just the tube).

By the 30th we'd got to the running out of food stage and it was really a short straw moment as none of us had any desire whatsoever to leave the house, but New Years Day was fast approaching and someone had to go.  Mum was the hero of the hour, because after much wrangling and sighing and haven't we got ANYTHING left at all, she quietly slipped out the front door to return an hour later fully laden with basic essentials and a few goodies as well. A true family hero was greeted on her return, with various grunts from the children and a mumble from me of "did you buy me any chocolate?" (she had).

The infamous last night of the year (New Years Eve) was spent almost in the most perfect way possible, phone calls from the eldest every 90 minutes to tell me that she was still "FINE MOTHER"  The boys were bathed early with vast amounts of their new smellies and nice and settled and the evening was spent in various positions snuggled on the sofa wishing all the friends and family a Happy New Year via facebook, twitter and text, while laughing at some of the horrifically embarrassing images being posted all over the net, even before the clock has reached midnight.

I can honestly say I am as ready for 2014 as I have ever been ready for any new year but I did have a quick wonder what 2054 will be like and whether I will see it, being as that will be my 80th year as apposed to this one being my 40th :-) HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone :-)

I quit smoking today....

Ok so its a little late for Stoptober and I am kinda only doing it to prove something to myself but I am finally quitting again.  10 years ago I quit and stayed off the fags for 5 years then through all sorts of reason I started again.  This time it will be for good I hope.  He's doing it also, and to be honest the way he coughs in the morning has always worried me and having only really just got him back I don't fancy losing him again to any nasty diseases.  He's on day 4, cold turkey and a tinsy whinsy bit snappy, I'm not that strong.  I have no will power to call my own so I am trying the e-cigarette option.  So far today, I haven't really been ratty or had massive cravings but then the kids have only just got home so that may change shortly.  To my credit though I have managed not to flip a lid at the state of eldest bedroom and have remained calm even to the sight of her sitting in the squalid mess, on her phone "too tired" to sort it out tonight.

So how's things with you ?? have you been up to anything exciting recently.  Are you like me now in a state of panic of the fast encroaching Christmas season with thoughts of crap my family has suddenly grown again and my wallet has considerably shrunk.  The last few years the buying for friends kids has tapered off somewhat, now the kids choose who they want to buy for in the friends stakes. Also the whole nephews thing is just a swapping for £20 notes.  This year however I am back to buying for the extend family, mother-in-laws and sister-in-laws, nephews, nieces and grand nieces.  Little ones are always a pleasure to buy for its the older ones that kinda only just want money really.

Thinking about it, there will be 10 nephews, 1 niece, and 2 grand nieces, 3 sisters, 2 mothers, and a partridge in a pair tree.  I wonder if they will all descend on us this year ? The house is big enough to take them all, and the dining table seats 12 easily so definitely some of them can come up.  In way it will be nice to reunite the family, ultimately the ripping apart was never something any of us wanted.  Well maybe not this Christmas, this Christmas will be saved for just us I think, 5 people, loving each other, communicating and spending time together, catching up, reminiscing and creating new memories.  There's always next year for the big family gathering.. :-)

Oh and I will be added a blueberry Shisha pen to my Christmas list :-)

Aaaahhggghhhh This frustrates me so much !

Right, before we begin, please don't get me wrong, I am in the business of making people feel good about themselves. Admittedly not in the direct way, a make up artist or a hairdresser does, but I still capture people at a given moment in their lives. A place they can look back on and bring back memories, and ultimately I don't want those memories to be bad ones. So for this reason I aim to make people look good and in turn feel good. OK? we clear, you know where I stand now ? fine we shall carry on.

As I am progressing with my photography I am discovering the different "types" and I don't mean to be sexist or anything but I am talking about women here, men there seems to be only one type, the one that doesn't want to be in front of the camera at all, and who refuses to smile, just in case they look silly, so would rather look like miserable grumpy old git instead. Anyway I am digressing, and while most of us fall in to the "ooh I really don't like having my photo taken, but I know I will regret it if I don't, so I may as well make the best of it" section.  There are a minority that will inevitable fall in to the polar opposites of this spectrum.

Now what I find absolutely fascinating and sometimes a little sickening is the fact the ones who you'd think traditionally would be a "Girl, I love myself" types, ie young, pretty, slim, flawless complexion and whole life in front of them are usually the ones that want to run away and hide when the camera comes out, whereas the "cougar generation" namely single older women who think that just because they are over 40 all blokes are going to be salivating at them because they've "experienced" life but actually, have to wear makeup, hide the fact they've eaten a chocolate eclair, and can't leave the house until everything has been pinned, stretched, sucked in and pushed up are all in my face with a "get my good side love !"  errrrr would that be behind the door then ?

Now before you go shouting and calling me out, remember paragraph 1.  These extremes I am talking about aren't your average woman, lady or girl.  I have had beautiful young things coming to have their photos taken because parents are insisting, who look as miserable as sin as soon as I hold the camera up and I know their photos will look stunning, but for some reason they feel so damn ugly inside it hurts. Why do they suffer so? yes I know media has a lot to do with it but this isn't a new phenomena.  Girls have been told from day dot they must make themselves presentable if they want to "find a man" which is fine, being clean, tidy and healthy is a good thing.  But why do so many younger people find it so difficult to like themselves and then there are these middle aged women who think they are the dogs boll*cks when actually they come across as a little bit sad trying to convince everyone they are still as young and vibrant as a 20 year old.

If only I could give these younger people, a bottle full of what these older people think they have, allow them to be confident and sexy without fear of being judged in anyway. Its like life's kick in the butt, when you have it you don't realise it and when you realise you had it, you are already past it (well at least you do if you have any self respect lol) I know I know, but seriously do you think Madonna is doing herself any favours, do you really think Cher has got it right.  Would you approve of your 60+ mother trying to make herself look 20+ or would you tell her she's being ridiculous?

I think what I am trying to say is, beauty is in the eye of the beholder or the camera lens as in my case.  So when I look at you through the camera, yes I see your imperfections ( we ALL have them), and yes I can see your worries but also I can see the sparkle in your eyes, the genuine warmth from your smile, the gentleness in your face.  These are the things that make a beautiful photograph, these are the images, that stop people in their tracks and say Wow you look lovely there.  It doesn't matter how much make up or sucking in or pushing up you do if these genuine emotions aren't there, or if you are trying to be something you are clearly not then this shows through the image and every image you take will look fake and unattractive.  Do you see what I am saying, be yourself, because yourself is beautiful and worthy no matter what your head tells you when you see your photo, as the people around you will tell you, you are loved and cherished for YOU. So next time you have a camera pointed at you and you are feeling unsure, look at the people around you see them smiling at you because they love you, then face the camera and SMILE :-)

I don't care if you think I'm fat

This is a subject that has been ruminating around my head for a few weeks now, basically how I feel about all the different aspects to what emotions and feelings are brought on by the "FAT" word.  I am a short woman, being short first a foremost, means, I can never been seen as truly elegant, only cute and sometime stylish (Kylie Monogue) and also a size 12 on a 5ft person looks chunkier than on 6ft person that's just a physics thing that can't be changed.  To be honest though my height has never bothered me, all the females in my family are 5ft and under, all the way back to my Great Grandmother they have all been strong working women and not one of them have been hindered by them being short. Now here's the other thing all 4 generations of these, strong, beautiful, loving super mums, who brought up their children and went to work and kept the kept the house going and we are talking over 100 years ago up to present, they have all been on the chunky side, including me.  So reason number 1 why I don't care if you think I am fat is, there are 3 women generational behind me that I have a massive amount of admiration and respect for just in my family that were, or are fat and it has made no difference to the of the quality of impact they have had on me and my future generation.  When I think about my grandmother, the first thing that doesn't spring to my mind, is OMG what a lard arse, I remember her amazing roast potatoes, and the warm smell of a roast cooking on a Sunday and the slapped wrist I'd get for trying to steal the scrapings from the roasting pan. I remember her long bright red painted nails and the ring of deep red lipstick on the end of her cigarette.  What I am saying is as a child and as a young adult when she died, never did I think, urgh I can't love you because you are fat. In fact in the last few months when she had been very ill, and had dropped loads of weight off I was actually freaked out by how fragile and frail she looked against the robust woman I'd known all my life. So there's the history of why I don't care, now for the present.  We as individuals are all built in a unique way, while the components may all be the same, the way they've been put together is totally different for each and everyone of us.  This is natures way of ensuring the genes we have from the 6 original Mums that gave us all life as the homosapins that we are today, get as widely dispersed between us as possible.  Therefore, no matter how hard I exercise, or diet or cosmetically change myself I will never "look" like the person I am aspiring to look like (my ideal look).  Fine you say, but what about looking the best you can look? I agree, that making an effort to wash yourself, keep your hair tidy and present yourself in clean clothes is a good thing.  What I don't agree with is the standard issue of if I was thinner I'd have more luck with, money, men, jobs, life. When those 6 original mums gave birth to us all, they weren't standing in front of a mirror, saying to one another, "ooh look I've gained 5lbs I look massive no one is going to want to shag me now" and all the mothers since that time.  Because I can almost guarantee we are the off spring of the great poor, unwashed, and unclothed masses, who still managed to get a bit of rumpy pumpy and pop out a good few sprogs.  You see what I am saying don't you. So reason number 2 of why I don't care if you think I am fat is, 3 kids, a whole lot of love in my life, a job that I love doing, a home of my dreams, beautiful friends around me and a loving, adoring partner who has always "wanted" me even though I'm a size 14 ie I'm doing alright for a fat bird. Then I sit back think about the bullying, nasty, spiteful nature of the superficial media constantly telling us only this particular image is beautiful, and we see our daughters looking at this stuff, being brain washed in to thinking that this is what beauty is when in actual fact beauty is just them.  Its just them, their very existence is a beautiful and amazing miracle.  From the moment their little hearts start beating in the womb, they are the most beautiful things on the planet.  But the media and in turn their teenage friends, all start the comparisons, they tell them they must look like this otherwise they will get nowhere.  They tell them what size they should be, what makeup they "have" to wear, how high their skirts should be otherwise no one will be their friend, no one will want them, they will be nothing, are nothing, if they don't look this certain way.  And this is my reason number 3 why I don't care if you think I am fat, I am showing my child another way, I proving to her daily that being a certain body shape does not mean you are going to win or fail at life. It doesn't in fact mean anything, and all this bullshit the media portrays is in the editors heads, its like the story of the emperors new clothes and somebody has got to hold their head up and say...WTF he's naked because that's all it is, nobody wants to admit they have got it all wrong these last 4 decades when that's exactly what has happened.  So daily I show her, I set an example, I work, I run the home, I look after her and her brothers, I have a partner and I have friends and I am happy, and that doesn't require me to being a size 6 and having all the stress of not eating and constant exercising to go with it.  I eat sensibly, I exercise in moderation and I enjoy my meals with my family.  I am healthy, and I make balanced healthy meals, take my kids out walking and keep our lifestyle active.  I do not need to beat myself up that I am damaging them in anyway because I am not, so what I'm not a size 6, I do know I am happy with exactly who I am and surely that is all that matters. So don't tell me you think I'm FAT because I just don't CARE what you think.

Life's so much easier now the coat rail is pixie height

I never really think about how short I am. I have never had an issue with it and only very rarely do I actually feel short. Its normally when I am standing by or close to someone that I am not used to. With hubbie I don't even think about the fact he towers over me and that he has to bend his back to kiss me and I have to tippytoe. And even though eldest child is now a good 4 inches taller than me I still feel I could shout her into a corner if needed be. (thankfully I don't have to prove this point lol). In fact I am very proud of my taller daughter and I look forward to when my sons tower over me too. But sometimes on the odd occasion in Tescos when what I want is on the top shelf and pushed to the back I get peed off and then there is the other issues of putting stuff out of reach lol. Hubbie is mostly very considerate when it comes to my lack of height whether thats because he mum is my height too so he's just used to little women !! or he is far more aware of my lack of stature than I am. This was highlighted over the weekend, when as usual I was jumping to put my coat on the coat rail and the darn thing fell off the wall. The previous owners of the house were all 6' 10" i am sure. As you can imagine hubbie was not that pleased with the rip in the plaster board and gaping hole the rail had left. But as good naturally as he could muster he told me nevermind and he'd fix it tomorrow. So as promised he got the drill out on Sunday and proceeded to measure up. I got called in to the utility "How high can you reach hun?" erm "bout that high, but don't worry put it back to the height it was before" where I had reach to was around his chin height. "Thats silly I'll put at a height you can reach comfortably" "ok" I mutter, feeling guilty that from now on he'll probably have to bend down to put his coat on the rail...So today I have a coat rail hanging perfectly for my height, it looks ridiculous, and its getting in the way of things but it was bliss hanging my coat up on it !!! A small consideration, with a powerful emotion of love behind it. How wonderful is it to have someone in your life that thinks of you that much, sod Valentines Day that's love everyday !!