My youthful acne, offset perfectly by my grey hair!

I got a new Mirena IUD on Monday. I feel like it's such a great birth control option, and I have always loved it. Almost from day one, five long years ago when I got my first one.

Not really loving it this week, though.

First of all, there was the removal of the old one and insertion of the new. Apparently, not usually a painful process. Well, it bloomin' was for me. My Mirena had embedded itself in my uterus, and they had to pull it out. You know that scene in "The Matrix" where they remove the "bug" from Neo? Yeah, it kind of looked like that. Foreign body covered in my blood, weird little tentacles and all. It hurt SO bad that I nearly threw up. It doesn't help that the vagus nerve is there, and stimulating it can trigger your gag reflex. Anyway, it was not a nice time. But putting the new one in was easy after that. Always a silver lining!

The day was really busy, too. I had to give a massage, then go to Dylan's sports day and have a house viewing (they are not buying). Definitely a day for very strong pain killers!

Now I am enjoying all the benefits of a fresh, and slightly stronger, dose of hormones. I am breaking out. It's freakish, because I haven't had acne problems since, well, forever. Not particularly troubled with bad skin even as a teenager. So the giant pimple on my cheek (of all the stupid places to have a pimple!) is completely driving me crazy.

On a positive note though, it seems like the new Mirena is getting my mood swings under control. Looking forward to brighter days ahead...

Argh!

I just conducted a little experiment with my kids. Dylan was swinging around a tape measure, and I have told him MANY times that it is dangerous. So I had him bring it in the kitchen. I got out a block of cheese and asked him how I normally cut cheese for him. "With a knife," he said, since he is a smart kid. Then I proceeded to cut some cheese with the tape measure. You know, to demonstrate how you can cut someone quite badly with that thin metal. Dylan just looked at me a little bit blankly and said, "Can I have that cheese?" Is it too late to turn down this parenting gig?

Makeup...

I have been thinking about makeup lately. More specifically, how the makeup trends change over the years.

Does anybody remember that line from "My Girl" when Jamie Lee Curtis's character is teaching the main character how to apply makeup? She says "You can never have too much blue eyeshadow!" I remember how it made me giggle, because I started wearing makeup in the 90's.

Funny, how you can always tell a 90's picture by the makeup. Because it was nothing special at the time, really. You went for nude colours on your eyes and cheeks, and VERY dark lipstick. That's just how everybody's face was, and it didn't seem like a makeup trend at all. Just a sensible way of applying the stuff. But now, that style of makeup sticks out like a sore thumb. Just as much as the blue eyeshadow of the 70's or the bubblegum pink lipstick and racing stripe blush of the 80's.

And now? Well, I'm too old now to be totally clued in to makeup trends. I guess only time will tell what the defining look of the Noughties and the teens will be. But I'm pretty sure one day we'll be able to look at photos and go "Man, look at that makeup. SO 2005!"

Deep and intellectual, huh? Pop culture is important, too!

In other exciting BLOG news, we are trying to plan a trip back to Utah for this summer. Any dates we should know about so we can try to accommodate?

Never going back!

I decided to make myself a circle skirt yesterday. I watched an online tutorial on YouTube and it seemed pretty simple. So a friend of mine came along for the ride, we went to Scunthorpe, and I got my supplies. A seam gauge, some new white thread, five yards of fabric. And some dressmaking scissors. Oh, the dressmaking scissors! They are perfection personified. Just using them makes me feel like a more confident seamstress. The weight of them, the size of the blades. The ease with which they cut through four layers of poly cotton blend-like a hot knife through butter! How did I ever use cheap Ikea scissors? Yeah, they cost me £20 ($30). And they were worth every penny. Seriously, I want to do more projects just so I can use those scissors some again! This is even better than the letter opener. Why am I such a nerd?

Little tea leaf!

Which is, of course, Cockney rhyming slang for THIEF!

Dylan stole just over £4 from his dad a few mornings ago. Of course, he got in trouble for it. At this point, "trouble" means that we will not be buying him any more World Cup trading cards for the next two weeks. Pretty serious stuff when you are six years old and World Cup mad!

It was really interesting, talking to him about why it is wrong to steal. He is still at that stage developmentally where he thinks it is only bad if he gets caught. Obviously, some people never get past that phase. I hope he will. We're certainly doing our best.

The thieving incident, combined with all the YA fiction I've been reading lately and the police helicopter circling Barton for about 20 minutes a few days ago, has me thinking about rebellion and anarchy. Weird connection, I know. But I was thinking about George Orwell's classic, "1984," and how "Big Brother is always watching you." And then it occurred to me that even if Big Brother WAS always watching me (and I live in England, so let's face it, he probably IS), I never do anything that would get me in trouble.

Is that a good thing, or is it a little bit sad?

Probably a good thing, right? It means that the government regime I live under is not overly controlling. It also means that I am a law-abiding citizen.

On the other hand, it sort of means that I am a meek little sheep, blindly being led and governed in such a way that I would never go against the status quo.

Hmmm...

Maybe I should stick to autobiographies for a little while. Imagination is going into overdrive.

Oh, and on another note:

The Urban dictionary defines "YOLO" as "Carpe diem for stupid people."

Just had to share, peeps. Because, well, you only live, err, carpe diem!

I don't feel that old!

I looked in the mirror the other night, and I saw my mother looking back at me. Only for a moment. I usually see my father (but more feminine!). And then I did a little mental maths to work out how old I was when my mom was my age. I was twelve.

I do not feel as old as I thought my mother was when I was twelve!

Maybe it is a little bit different for me, since my mother started having children when she was younger and I was 28 when I had my first baby. But maybe it's not.

I still feel like I am playing mom most of the time. I am so unsure of my parenting, and mostly feel as though I'm making it up as I go along. I still sometimes resent the way the children have taken over my life. I feel like I am still young enough to be out having fun, but I can't because of my kids. Did my mom feel like that at 35, too? If she felt that way with teenagers, how did she cope? Because I seriously thought she had it all together...

Hopefully I am fooling my kids into thinking I know what I'm doing!

Testing

Mobile blogging app downloaded to my phone. Just testing it out. Next up? Posting photos to the blog from my phone...

Random thoughts I've been having recently...

1. It's completely absurd, just how much I love letter openers. Seriously, hardly anybody sends letters any more so the only opening I have to do is usually bills. And fingers work just fine for that job. But there's something so satisfying about sliding that letter opener in between the gap of an envelope and sliding it along that top crease. And then you have that nice, neat slit in your envelope instead of an uneven tear all along the top. Yes, I know the envelope is going in the bin. It can't even be recycled because of the glue. But doing a job neatly with the tool intended is so, well, NICE!

2. That bit in a marriage ceremony when you are exchanging vows and saw "With my body I honour you." I have been thinking about that one a lot lately. How on earth do you "honour" somebody with your body? Honour, when used as a verb, is defined as:
to hold in respect or esteem
to show courteous behaviour towards
to worship
to confer a distinction upon
to accept and then pay when due (a cheque, draft, etc)
to keep (one's promise); fulfil (a previous agreement)
to bow or curtsy to (one's dancing partner)

I suppose we could go line by line on this one...

I will show respect to you with my body by not offering it to anyone else.
I will use my body to be courteous to you, by using it to work for you in appropriate and relevant ways.
I will worship you with my body (hey, the procreative act is sacred, right?).
I will confer distinction upon you by using my body to show affection to you, and only you.
I will fulfill my physical marital obligations to you with my body.
I will keep the promise of fidelity that I have made to you.
Do I really need to bow or curtsy to you? Maybe this one's a bit too literal.

So much is packed into this one little phrase. I'm pretty sure that the rest of the vows have multiple meanings as well. How many people really take the time to think about and analyze their wedding vows? How's that for some food for thought?

3.

Nope, I've got nothing else. But I think it's a step forward!

We've had a busy week. The days have flown by, and I can't believe it's already Thursday. It's a big day for my family back in Utah, and I am thinking of you all. Jace, I'm excited for the mail to come. Krystle and Blaine, I'm crossing my fingers for you. And our family here in England? Well, it's just business as usual.

The kids break for half-term this Friday, so we'll have all next week with them. I'm not working, so that'll be nice. We can all sleep late in the mornings (except for Dylan, who will no doubt continue to wake up at about 6am). We can have a few lazy days together and if I can get a bike by then, maybe go on a few family bike rides. We're too skint to do anything too extravagant, but we will all really enjoy spending time together as a family.

I should probably get back to work. I just wanted to get those thoughts down before I forgot them again!

Thoughtless...

Last week, as I was cleaning the bathtub, I had a thought that would have been perfect for a blog post. What was it, you ask? I don't remember.

For years, I have recorded all my random thoughts on this blog. I have poured my heart out to friends, family, and random people who stumble across my blog on the internet. And it has been cathartic and good. Now, I have these fleeting thoughts and instead of recording them, I forget them almost immediately. That's kind of bad. What happened?

I think part of it was that I found other outlets for my ranting. I have a few more friends now, and I see them on a regular basis. I also had just over a year of therapy, which helped me deal with some serious issues that had always been bottled up. The Prozac probably helped, as well. But mostly, it's a matter of exhaustion and the fact that I now access the internet almost exclusively through my phone and kindle. How I wish Windows phones supported mobile blogger!

Maybe I'll do a little bit of research on that this afternoon. That would make me more likely to put a few pictures up, as well. I know you miss those, mom!

Since I can't remember what my brilliant blog post idea was, instead I'll wax lyrical about the book I just finished reading for my book club. It was "The Book Thief," by Markus Zusak. I chose it simply because I had seen a trailer for the film and thought it looked really interesting. And I always prefer to read the book first. Typically, if it was deemed good enough to make into a movie, the book is great. Not always the case, I know. But only one time has the book been a disappointment compared to the movie. And that was "Fried Green Tomatoes," because I really wanted to pretend that the two protagonists were just good friends, and you couldn't do that when reading the book!

Anyway, back to "The Book Thief." I read it in just under a week. There were some nights when I couldn't put it down, reading for an hour or two in one stretch. I loved the fact that the narrator is Death, and I loved the fact that it portrayed WWII Germany in a different light. We learned about the "normal" German citizens, and the way that they suffered during the war as well. Their political and military leaders were, in some cases, absolute monsters. But the people were just trying to keep their heads down and survive. It's not a perspective that we think about very often, and I love a book that makes me think.

I also thought it was beautifully written. The words flowed. There were little snippets of German throughout, which was kind of fun. It also dramatically decreased the number of English "swear words" that you had to read (always a concern because of one of our book club members, Bea, who will stop reading the book if the language becomes a bit fruity).The descriptive passages were perfectly balanced between minimal and over the top (always a pet peeve of mine, and I always skip those passages if they are on the flowery side). And, not to be left out, I cried like a baby at the very end. Seriously, great book. Now I can't wait to see the movie!

For a while there, I sort of forgot how much I love to read. My time has been taken up with TV series, streamed on Netflix. But I've recently rediscovered how awesome books are. I will quite happily spend an hour curled up with a book instead of watching old episodes of "The Good Wife." I've even got a reading chair in the front room now, next to the book shelf with a lamp behind it.

In other news, Martin and I just tackled a huge project together. We reupholstered our sofa. We started on Wednesday, and finished the base of the sofa yesterday. It used to be a lovely gold color, but the kids changed all that for us. It had gone pretty brown. Plus, I have been wanting to decorate the front room with a base of gray and accents in heather colors. So instead of forking out £600 for a new sofa, we spent £45 on upholstery fabric from a market in Hull and borrowed my mother-in-law's sewing machine. Add to that the £20 we spent on a staple gun, and it's still a big bargain. I'm even considering button closures instead of zippers for most of the cushions, since we already have loads of buttons.

It's been hard work, and we're not finished yet. But it looks really good, especially for a first attempt. I've learned a few things, sewing-wise, and will probably want to re-do it at some point (shh, don't tell Martin or he will probably cry). But I'm proud of what we've done so far. It's already a big improvement.

Slowly but surely, my house is starting to look the way I want it to. And when it finally gets there, that's probably when someone will want to buy it!

So there it is, my weekly blog update brought to you courtesy of Beck Hill Motors and a computer that is stationary and already up and running. Nice, huh? More next week, when I will try to remember all of my brilliant (but apparently fleeting) thoughts and write about them instead of just filler.

Peace out!

No news is good news...

He's home!

Martin is finally home from his holiday in Turkey. I'm so glad he's back. It's kind of funny, how much I missed him. We don't even see that much of each other when he's home, and it was a very busy week. But he still does so much for me and the kids. It was like heaven this morning, not having to get the kids AND myself ready for school and work. I got an extra 30 minutes sleep!

He showed us all his pictures from the trip, and it looks absolutely amazing. I've gotten used to a certain kind of historic look, and the places he photographed in Turkey look so very different and exotic. And the beaches. Oh my, the beaches. He says he wants to take the whole family over, and I want that as well. I know envy is a sin, but MAN I am a serious sinner!

I'm especially proud of my husband for setting a good example of our faith to his friends. He said he was so tempted to have a beer with the boys after they'd been on their bikes all day long. And that's saying something, because Martin has not had any problems with the Word of Wisdom since he was baptized nearly 12 years ago. I know it can't have been easy for him to stick to Coke. So well done, baby!

Pretty sad stuff going on at work. My boss's daughter-in-law was diagnosed with cancer a few years back, and they think it might have come back. She's currently in the process of scans and biopsies and is on Morphine for the pain. She is younger than me, and has two little boys aged 7 and 9. Elaine is doing school runs and swimming lessons, and she is very upset. Understandably so, of course. I just hope I can help out enough in the office that she doesn't get too stressed out about work as well. Fingers crossed.

So that's the news from 48 Fleetgate. Just one more tidbit--I am considering going back on the happy drugs. I've been seriously sad and tired for the last month or so. I'm going to wait until I've had my new Mirena IUD fitted, as it does have hormones and it has just about run out. So maybe the sadness is hormonal. But I may be back on Prozac in the next six weeks or so. Any thoughts?

Dear Martin,

Dear Martin,

I hope you're having a good time on your mountain biking holiday in Turkey. I just thought I'd write you this letter to let you know how things are going at home.

The kids and I are basically just sticking to our normal routine. We are doing school runs, swimming lessons, baths, shopping, housework, etc. In addition to that, I have been doing a little bit of DIY, going to book club, and squeezing in some work during school times (my boss, Elaine, has been so wonderfully accommodating).

The bed that you made is fully finished now. I stained it, then waxed the wood. It's a beautiful oak colour. I also managed to finally hang the bed curtains properly. I think you'll be pleased with the effect.

Dylan and Edith have started a new reading competition with school, this one lasting until the half term break. It's only 4 weeks away now. They have both read every single night, as they want the reward. This time, it will be a trip to the "ice-cream parlour" that the school will be setting up. Last night, Edith even read her scripture in the Book of Mormon with no help from me whatsoever. We are really very lucky that they both love to read!

Things have been quiet around the house. I've been very organized in the mornings and we have actually been ready to walk out the door BEFORE the alarm's gone on my phone every day this week. Dylan was a little bit concerned at first that I wouldn't remember to do their pack-ups, but he's confident now that I will make his lunch!

I've been going to bed early--never later than 10:30 all week long--and getting up earlier, too. The house is staying cleaner than it normally does. Things are running more smoothly since you left for Manchester airport on Tuesday morning. No shoes left lying all over the house, no dirty dishes in the sink every morning. No bread crumbs left on the counter, or cupboards being left open. No giant piles of laundry on top of the laundry hamper rather than in it.

I hate it!

I miss having you home to make packed lunches. I miss your noise and your mess and your serious lack of punctuality. I miss you waking me up when you get home from work. I even miss leaving that plate of dinner on the side for you. Every single meal I've cooked this week has had an extra portion left over!

I really missed you on Wednesday, when we would have normally had the day off together. I've come to count on those days with you, when it can just be the two of us, no kids, for a few hours. You help keep me sane and happy and healthy.

So yes, I hope you are having a great time with the lads. But I hope the next four days pass quickly. Because even after all these years, you are still the person I most want to see every day. Going a full week without seeing your best friend is tough!

All my love,

Jamie

Daddy Doug's visit...

My relationship with my biological father has always been a strange one.

He and mom divorced before I was even a year old, and she was remarried by the time I was two (and a half!) to a wonderful man who I grew up calling "dad." Mostly because he IS my dad. He has never treated me any differently than his own flesh and blood, and did an excellent job of raising me. Well, I think so anyway.

My relationship with "Daddy Doug" didn't develop until I was 17, for reasons that I completely understand now that I know him well. We met, it was awkward, we developed a relationship that was completely on my terms, and we had contact as often as I initiated it. Slightly dysfunctional, but still nice.

Then, his wife got sick. Rae Dawn developed Alzheimer's disease about the same time I had two children just 19 months apart. All of a sudden, we had a whole lot in common. His lovely wife and my beautiful children became the sole focus of our worlds, and we talked, laughed, and cried together about the way our lives were going. In short, I guess we bonded.

Then, just last year, a miracle occurred. He called me. For the first time ever, he picked up the phone and initiated contact with ME! It only took 17 years!

He's just spent the last two weeks with us here in Barton. I drove him to Manchester airport on Tuesday to fly home. We had lots of fun, going out to eat, visiting some favorite places, and just hanging out. The kids miss him already. I miss him, too. Because even though our relationship is strange, I really do love him.

It's nice to have the house to myself again though. Because one of the things this visit taught me is that I am becoming a bit of a hermit. When Martin first started working at Stables, I nearly went mad. I was stuck inside every single night, with nobody to talk to and no chance of leaving. Now, though I am still stuck in the house every night with nobody to talk to, I really enjoy that. My evenings are my own. Once the kids are in bed, I can literally do whatever I want (as long as I don't leave the property). Four years on, and I am finally used to Martin's working hours.

Daddy Doug is already talking about coming back. I am already looking forward to that. And not JUST because he brought me a whole bunch of Macaroni and Cheese :)

Always a bridesmaid...

My lovely sister-in-law Cathy is getting married on Saturday. She and John have been together nearly seven years. They are so in love and make such a great couple. I'm so pleased for them!

I went to Cathy's "home hen do" on Saturday. She had another one, a boozy trip to Benidorm, that I was going to attend until it conflicted with Edith's birthday. Bit sad about that one, but Martin has promised me a later holiday as he is off to Turkey next week. Ooh, check out our jet-setting lifestyle!

But I digress. Back to the hen do!

It was in a little tapas restaurant in Cleethorpes. I picked up my saintly mother-in-law and drove us both in. There were 22 of Cathy's female friends there, including her future sisters-in-law, and we spent a delightful evening together, just talking and laughing and (most of them) drinking. Then Martin's mum made a little speech, and there was a Mr. and Mrs. game.

The support for Cathy in her marriage to John was almost overwhelming. Everyone there was so pleased for her, and they all know that Cathy and John will be so good for each other. It made me think back to my own wedding and bridal shower.

When I married Martin, pretty much nobody thought it was a good idea. My dad insisted he was only after a green card, and everybody else was just disappointed that I was marrying outside the church. None of them really knew Martin very well, and they hadn't been around me for years so they couldn't see all the ways that he had influenced me for the better. They only knew that I was marrying a non-member foreigner. How could they have supported me in good conscience? They were there, and they were happy for me, but the overwhelming feeling was that none of them were truly glad I was marrying Martin.

Several years down the line, when we were sealed in the temple, it was different. Most of those same people--aunts, cousins, and sisters--came to our sealing and went to the park afterwards for a picnic. They were happy for me then. I was happy for me then. But that initial support would have been lovely.

As I watched Cathy, in that little room completely surrounded by a loving and supportive network of women, I was more than a little bit jealous. It was like she was being cocooned in their approval and respect. It shouldn't have made me sad, but it did.

I have never before regretted anything about my marriage. Now I regret this. That I flew in the face of all of my family members. That I didn't work harder to seek their acceptance for my choice. That I didn't make sure they all knew Martin for how wonderful he truly is. Because it made our wedding seem all about defiance instead of all about love. And marrying Martin really was all about loving him and wanting to spend the rest of my life with him. If only it had felt that way at the time. Then our wedding would have been a joyous celebration, as Cathy's is likely to be, instead of a sad day for most of my family.

Mothering Sunday...

It was British Mothers' Day on Sunday. Historically, this is a very bad day for me. It involves Martin working all day long, me taking the children to church by myself, and making sure my mother-in-law has a good mothers day since her son isn't available.

This year, we bucked the trend!

The kids each brought me a gift and a card first thing in the morning. We had a great time at church. I took us all out for lunch, and they were well behaved throughout. Then they let me take a quick nap when we got home. We headed over to the in-laws' house in the late afternoon and had a wonderful visit and a light meal. Then it was home and into bed for the kids, and I curled up with a good book for the rest of the evening.

As Dylan and Edith grow up a little bit, having children becomes more and more what I expected from motherhood. And I love it. Weirdly, I am especially looking forward to having teenagers. What fun...

Edith's birthday was also good. She was at school all day, but she opened a few gifts before she went. Then we had a family dinner when she got home. She requested paella (her favourite, apparently) and a strawberry cake. I obliged on the paella, and compromised on the cake with a warm vanilla flavoured butterfly cake, decorated with buttercream frosting, fresh strawberries, and fresh blueberries.

As per usual, Edith was very spoilt by all of her aunties, uncles, and grandparents. She got some lovely clothes, which she loves. She got some fun toys, which she is already playing with. And we got her a new bike, which she is learning to ride with confidence.

My Edith is such a joy to me. I love her to absolute pieces. She is a little ray of sunshine to me. Celebrating her birthday is a real privilege, just as having her for a daughter is.

I'm all aglow with the joy and happiness of motherhood. Kind of sickening, really. And just because I wrote it, tonight is probably going to be a crappy night with the kids. But I do love them both, more than I could ever express. They are a blessing to me, and they were well worth the wait!

Proud mama bear...

For those of you who HAVEN'T seen the video on Facebook, Edith learned to ride her bike with no training wheels last weekend.

That girl is so fearless! I told her she might not get it on her first try, and that was just fine. Then we took her out, she got on her bike, Martin supported her just a little bit, and away she went. First time out of the gate.

She'll be turning five on Tuesday, and she's getting a new bike for her birthday. She is so very grown up. Where have the past five years gone?

Dylan's teachers were on strike yesterday, so he and Martin had a little father/son bonding day. They bought Edith's birthday present, had lunch together, and went to the cinema. I had a PB&J sandwich, watched The Goodwife on Netflix, and had my "ladies' cancer screening" at the doctor's office. Who do you reckon had the better day? You're right. It was me!

Dylan loves his dad so much. They both do, really, but Dylan idolizes Martin. He was so content with all the attention that he'd received all day long that he was as good as gold when it came time for bed. I love that!

Oh, and I got Edith those new school shoes. She loves them.

Getting into the groove...

I'm in my second week of work now, and I'm starting to enjoy it. I got paid today, so that kind of helps. But more than that, it's kind of nice to have a bit more structure to my days. It forces me to plan my week out and keeps me on task, knowing that I won't have those two days at the end of the week to get things done. And I like being able to contribute to the funds, if only a little bit!

Of course, there are down sides, too. Like last night, when Dylan told me that the parents were invited to a Sports Relief fundraiser at the school the next day. He got a little teary when I told him I couldn't go because of work. And Edith needing some sports kit, which I could have gone out and bought then delivered to the school for her if I hadn't been at work. I'd imagine there will be more of those moments, but I can live with them.

So yeah, everything is fine over here. No more crying myself to sleep at night over my job. Just slight annoyance about having to get out of bed and go to work!

Tomorrow is the Stake Relief Society activity day over in Hull. I'm teaching a choir workshop, which could either be really fun or a total nightmare. I'll be teaching "God Is Love" from the hymn book. The kids will be hanging out with their Nanna. Slightly put out that I'm missing my life drawing class for it, but hopefully I will get blessings for my efforts.

In other exciting weekend news, I shall be buying Edith some new school shoes as she has grown out of hers.

Oh yeah, that's the way I roll!

Working nine to five...

I'm at work right now.

How weird to be saying that, after nearly 7 years of no job outside the home!

I got a job at a local garage, Beck Hill Motors. It's just part time, working from 9am to 4:30pm every Thursday and Friday. Today is my second day.

The people are all very nice. I've not had any irate customers to deal with yet. The work is not hard, though there is obviously a learning curve and I'm a bit nervous about screwing something up. But yeah, it's pretty ok.

Martin is so thrilled that I have a job now, and I'm happy about that. But it changes everything about the way my life has been for the past 6+ years. Something about going to work outside of my home feels like a betrayal to my children and my ideals. I am a little bit emotional about the situation. In fact, I totally cried about it last night. I'm almost crying about it right now.

But it's extra money in the bank and two days a week out of the house and talking to grown ups, whether I want to or not. And, most importantly, it's a happy husband. If Martin is better for it, I'm willing to do it. Whether I like it or not. Because, to be fair, he's done it for me since Dylan was born. It feels like the least I can do.

In other news, watch this space for a photo project I am currently working on. It's going to be titled "30 days of bed-head." Yes, I AM taking a selfie every morning when I get out of bed to document the awesomeness that is my hair first thing in the morning :)

The value of a girl...

I am a podcast addict. Seriously, there is hardly any music on my iTunes profile. It's all about the spoken word. Talk radio, too. I just love listening to people talk. Maybe it's because I spend so much time alone? But that's another blog post.

I was listening to a podcast about gender selection during pregnancy, and the podcasters were talking about the fact that female children are undervalued. I remember listening to one 'cast about all the "missing" women in China, mostly due to their one child policy and the fact that nobody wanted to have a girl, and all the problems that caused. And I thought about how much I wanted another boy when I was pregnant with Edith.

Here's the thing though--it wasn't that I didn't want to have a daughter. Had Dylan been female, I would have been thrilled to have a girl. But I grew up with all sisters (love you, Jace, but you didn't come along until I was 17) and I loved the dynamic there. It was us girls, all together. If I'd had a girl first, I would have wanted another girl. But since I had a boy first, I really wanted another son. I wanted to be the only girl in the house. I wanted my kids to bond strongly with each other. I wanted it to be me and my boys. Then Edith came along!

From the moment she was born, I started changing my mind about wanting another boy. This gentle pink haze descended on the house. The ironing bag filled up with ruffles and flounces. And all of a sudden, I had Barbie dolls on my horizon. BONUS!

Edith has been my little sunshine ever since then. She is my living doll, to dress up and fix her hair. She is also my hairdresser and makeup artist. We are shopping buddies and we love to be "ladies who lunch" together. I was actually a little bit sad when she started full days at school. I absolutely LOVE having a daughter, and I don't understand why anybody would choose to abort a foetus simply because it didn't have a penis. Daughters are the BEST!

Connections...

I had an awkward conversation with Dylan the other day. He had been outside on the "ramp" (his name for the drive leading from the main road to Eagle House) riding his bike. He came in really upset, so we had a chat.

Apparently, our neighbour and his teenaged daughter were having a fight out by their car, and she was screaming and kicking the car, punching the roof, etc. Dylan, my sensitive soul, was really upset by this. So we talked about puberty and irrational teenagers, about how our neighbours are a bit shouty anyway and the fighting is normal behaviour for a girl her age. He understood, and calmed down right away.

Fast forward a few days, and he asked if he could go out and ride his bike on the ramp again. I said yes, and warned him to watch out for cars. Not eve missing a beat, he quipped, "and teenagers!"

Man, that kid has a keen sense of humour. His mind is just so quick!

We got school reports on the kids last week, and they are doing every bit as well as we expected them to do. Dylan especially is excelling academically. Edith's mainly ahead of the game socially, and also in her reading. She's going to be a popular little lady!

Martin has been working on the last little bit of tiling downstairs. I'm hoping the project will be finished tomorrow. Pretty exciting stuff. And they are doing a refit at Stables in a few weeks. It'll be exciting to see what it looks like when it's finished. Fingers crossed for a few leftovers.

And me? Nothing new to report. I did yoga today and managed a rock solid tree pose. That's about as exciting as it gets. Oh, and I'm considering reupholstering the sofa in a dark grey chenille fabric. Ordered a sample online this evening. Total rock star!

My favourite part of winter...

It's no secret that I hate winter in England. Autumn is lovely, summer is nice, and spring in this country is the most glorious thing I have ever seen. But winter is cold, grey, and dark. I have two things that I look forward to during this long, horrible season. The first thing is the Winter Solstice, which marks the start of slightly longer days. It's such a relief when the shortest day of the year has passed.

The second thing I look forward to happened just this week. I saw my first snowdrop! Soon it will be daffodils and tulips, then the hedgerows will begin to bloom. That creeping mist of green will descend, the rhododendrons will explode with almost tropical colour, and I will be happy. It happens every year, without fail.

England is amazing--the history, the scenery, and the green. Oh, the green! But I'm just not cut out for winter here. Utah is so much colder, but the sun still shines. I miss that so much. Especially the way fresh powder on the mountains looks--like diamonds with the sun glinting off the ice crystals.

I'm melancholy tonight. I think I'd sell my soul right now to move back home. It might be easier than trying to sell my house.

It must be time to go somewhere or do something to remind myself how much I love England. Maybe a little trip to York next Saturday? Maybe Lincoln? How about it family? If you were in England, what would you do next weekend?

Running for my life...

I have been doing the "Couch to 5K" program. Not religiously, but I downloaded the app for my phone and have been running, on average, twice a week. Three times would be better, but my health hasn't really allowed for that. So here's the progress report:

When I started, I could not even run for a full minute. I was running about 45 seconds and panting/jogging until that stupid computer voice told me to walk. As of last week, I can now run for five minutes straight. Don't get me wrong, I am panting and gasping after that five minutes. But the point is, I can do it. I can now run a mile faster than I could when I was 16. It feels great!

Runner's high has yet to happen. I never get this massive endorphin rush while sweating my guts out and panting like a dog. But I do get restless some days, and genuinely want to go for a run. My legs start to tingle, and nothing else will do. And I could totally get addicted to the feeling of finishing a run. It is the only time I really push myself, and that sense of accomplishment is incredible!

I'm not really losing weight with it--probably have to be more consistent for that to happen. But my overall fitness has definitely improved. I'm glad I decided to take it up.

Church was good today. I taught Relief Society and youth Sunday School, and played the piano for R.S. and Sacrament meeting. The closing hymn was a bit dodgy, since I'd never heard it before (though I did practice it) and spent the first eight measures trying with all my might to play it faster than the chorister wanted everyone to sing it. But I've been playing in church for so long that it isn't even embarrassing any more when I mess up. Not worth blushing about--just an eye rolling moment.

Today is Martin's last day off work. He's been off all week, and goes back in tomorrow. It's been so lovely to have him home with me. I adore spending time with my husband! Yesterday, we went out and had a "normal" family Saturday--the kind we never have because he is always at work. We went to Ikea, had lunch, did a bit of shopping, then drove down to Penistone, just north of Sheffield, to see my friend Noelle and her brand new baby. He's gorgeous, and she's doing well. I got to cuddle five day old Stevie for nearly an hour. But guess what? I still don't want another baby. And now that I'm 35, it's official. We are DONE having children. Sorry to my parents if they wanted more grandchildren from me. It's not going to happen.

Anyway, I should probably go and help my husband with dinner prep. Bless him, he's cooked a few meals this week and I'm feeling like a bit of a slacker. Plus, I get to check him out and slap his bum when I need him to move if we cook together. Sometimes having a tiny kitchen is great!

Happy birthday to me...

Turning 35 ended up being pretty painless. I woke up to breakfast in bed courtesy of the kids. Dylan was incredibly proud of the fact that he made my toast himself. Then I played badminton with my husband, did the grocery shopping, had my hair cut, went for sauna with my friend Ali, had dinner with the Gilbert family, and spent a quiet evening with my hubby. Barely even time to lament the passing of my youth.

Thirty five years old. Ouch! Half way to seventy. Round up to forty. Edith told me that I am really getting "quite old." Special.

When we moved to England, I was only 26. Just a spring chicken, really. Now I'm ancient, like the crypt keeper. But I have a wonderful husband, two beautiful children, and a great life. So I'm getting old? So what? Being 35 hasn't changed anything. Well, except for the fact that I have now decided to ditch the grey hair. I am going to dye it tomorrow.

In other news, we have had to cut Dylan off the junk food. We went to Nottingham to visit some friends, and they had nibbles out on the table. Dylan ate so much food that he made himself sick. And in typical Dylan fashion, he did it in his bed. The kid is incapable of getting up and being sick in the toilet. Which of course means a midnight shower and bedding change. It was the second time in less than six weeks. So now he is only allowed to eat the food which we give him, until he can learn to stop eating when he is full. I feel like such a mean parent, but it seems necessary. I seem to recall that Velecia's boys used to do the same?

Thoughtless...

That's me. Literally without thought. I've had this browser window open for a good five minutes, just waiting for inspiration to hit. It didn't, so instead, I will waffle on for a bit and pretend to be really deep.

Martin has encouraged me to do this new diet. Not in a horrible, sexist pig sort of way. He just read about it, and thought it sounded perfect for me. It's a variation of the 5-2 diet. This is the every other day diet, where you eat as you like one day and then fast (500 calories fast) the next. So I decided I'd get on board, and had my first fasting day yesterday. So today I ate as I pleased, and my body was not happy about it at all! I think I'll have to be more careful about my non-fasting days from here on out. But it certainly DOES seem like the perfect diet for me. It's not hard to say no to foods that are bad for you if you know you can have them the next day. It's not too hard to count up to 500 calories. It's easy to remember which day you're on. All in all, I like it. Except for that whole hunger thing. We'll see how it goes.

The running is certainly going well. Had a few weeks off over Christmas, but I'm back in the game now and pleased with my progress. When I started, I could barely manage to run for a single minute. But on Tuesday, I ran two seperate five minute stretches. Properly running, too. Not just jogging to keep up appearances. What a difference!

The kids are doing great. Excelling at school, as I have come to expect. Dylan is starting to have loads of friends now, which is brilliant. He's having a friend over tomorrow night to watch a movie with us. He is trading Match Attax cards with his friends at school. He is always talking about the games he plays with his friends during play time. Who would have thought at the beginning of his school career that he would get to this point?

Edith is really coming into herself. She is horribly bossy and demanding, but she is so charming about it that everyone still loves her. She's cheeky and giggly, and her hair is finally long enough to pull up in proper pigtails. She is my comedian, and my little angel.

As for Martin, well...the other morning, we went to the gym together. He did kettlebells, and I went into the health suite. I was doing leg press, and looked over to see a cute guy bent over getting a drink. Had a little ooh la la moment, then realized that I was perving over my own husband. Awkward. But pretty awesome, too. I sure do love that man!

Turning 35 next week, and I'm sure I'll have a few choice words to say about that when the time comes. Watch this space.

Merry Christmas

And my apologies to my family, who had to sit there opening gifts with my face in high definition on the big screen, quietly crying like a baby.

Sometimes, it just hits me how much I am missing by living in England. I love it here, but my gigantic and loving family are all over in Utah. And I sat by my computer, watching the clan exchanging gifts, and realized how much I wanted to be in the middle of all of that madness. Skype is brilliant, but it's not as good as being in the room.

It was still a great family Christmas, of course. I was with my wonderful husband and beautiful children, and we spent the day with my English family. They are great--the best in-laws a girl could ever ask for. The gifts were a success, the company was affable, and the food was amazing. if only...

Winter blues...

Last year, I was all medicated up on Prozac and I breezed effortlessly through the grim English winter. Now I am drug free, and I am feeling every sun-less, bone chilling moment. If I was a drinker, I would be annihilating a bottle of wine a night just to get through.

Thank goodness for the Word of Wisdom, right?

Anyway, things are going well. I am enjoying the run up to Christmas. I have made my Christmas puddings and mincemeat, and I am keeping the kitchen stocked up with home baked goodies for company. The house isn't as clean now that the weather has turned horrible, but it is ok. Basically, I hate doing housework in the dark. And it is dark by 3:45pm. If I could, I would totally hibernate for all of November and December. And probably part of January, as well.

Dylan and Edith have both done their Christmas plays for school. They were cute. It's just a shame that there were loads of other kids there and the plays were held in a room full of people (please see above comment about hibernating). Dylan's play was called "Manger Mouse," and Edith's was "Cheese, Please." Both cheeky little takes on the traditional nativity.

Today is a special day, anyway. It is my baby sister's birthday. Happy birthday, ShaNeil! I remember the day she was born. It was a Thursday. I know, because it was early day. We got taken up to see her after school. She is eight years younger than me, so we were never super close. But I've always been impressed by her quick wit and her incredibly beauty. Oh, and she has the cutest baby EVER! I am looking forward to moving back to Utah and getting to know her better as an adult and a friend instead of just a sister.

JUST a sister? How crazy was that statement? My sisters are the only people from my childhood that I am still friends with. Sisters are way better than plain old friends, and I miss all of mine like crazy.

I've been given a speaking assignment for church this week, about "Christmas Past," and it has me getting all nostalgic about the Christmases of my childhood. Holidays always make me long for home. And even though this is my 9th Christmas in England (wow, it seems even longer, seeing it in black and white like that) and I have a husband and children of my own now, home is still sort of where my parents and siblings are.

Such a Debbie downer today. I'm kicking myself off the computer so I don't spread my bad mood like a disease!

Happy kisses!

Au Naturale...

Top ten reasons letting my hair revert to its natural colour was a good idea:

10. Not putting chemicals in my hair makes it healthier and shinier

9. Natural highlights--got to love those

8. Gray is very in this season

7. I'm setting an example for my daughter that she can grow old gracefully and not buy into the notion that while it is perfectly acceptable for a man to show his age, a woman must look perpetually seventeen in order to be desirable.

6. Because screw the patriarchy, that's why (got on a little streak there. Stepping off my soap box now)

5. I now have so much more time to devote to worthy causes, like promoting world peace and supporting my local library

4. My house never smells like ammonia any more.

3. My lack of facial lines and wrinkles is highlighted even more by the fact that I have granny hair

2. It draws attention away from my dark, luxurious moustache should I not have time to bleach or depillate

1. There's not nearly as much gray as I thought there'd be!

So yeah, here's to letting my natural colour shine through for the first time since I was fourteen. I feel like such a dirty tree hugger. Next up, growing out my arm pit hair (don't laugh, I've done it before) and getting some birkenstocks.

I'm humming a Janice Joplin song even as I type...

Drama...

So the most exciting event of this week was supposed to be tiling our dining room:



Instead, the house next door caught fire early on Wednesday morning:



So Wednesday morning was pretty exciting. Our neighbor, Mickey B., pounded on the door at 4am and told us that the roof next door was seriously on fire. We got the kids out of bed, grabbed our passports and document file, got our coats and shoes on, and got out of the house.

The kids spent the next three hours watching the Disney Channel at Mickey's house while Martin and I watched the fire getting closer and closer to our house until the fire brigade got it out. It was pretty terrifying. But our house suffered pretty minimal damage, and our home owners insurance is covering all of it.

It's kind of nice to know that I'm not very materialistic. Too bad it took a major fire to gain that knowledge.

So yeah, loads of drama. But, all things considered, getting the tiling done IS more exciting!

Running...

Me, dying after my run this afternoon

I started doing a couch to 5K workout program on Monday. This may not seem like a big deal to some, but there's something you need to know about me in order to be properly impressed:

I HATE RUNNING!

If I were being chased by zombies, I would rather let them pull my brains out and eat them whilst I was still alive than have to run away from them.

This is not hyperbole.

Running is not the only exercise I hate doing. I also detest biking (that seat is just NOT comfortable, and you'd have to be a masochist to enjoy sitting on it for extended periods of time, IMHO) and group sports of any kind.

Basically, I hate cardio. It's not that I dislike getting my heart rate up. Just that I hate being sweaty, uncomfortable, short of breath and dealing with the rather unfortunate effects of gravity on an empty baby bag.

Really intense flows in yoga and aquafit do NOT count as cardio, by the way :)

Martin asked me why I decided to start running if I hate it so much. I told him that people who run tend to look good, and though I don't like running, I DO like looking good.

I remember being younger and totally happy in my body. I've never been thin, but my body used to be able to handle whatever stresses I put it under. That's just not the case any more. And I'd like to change that while I'm still young enough to do it. And if that means taking up running, well, I'll do it.

But I'll complain about it all the way, because I STILL HATE RUNNING.

(Although I did experience runner's high for the first time ever--I think. That was weird.)

So what's next for me? Ladies' basketball, perhaps?

Not likely. I still have standards, after all!

An Achievement...

Not mine, but Dylan's. He is now riding his bike with no training wheels. Pretty amazing, considering he only got that bike a few months ago. We didn't really encourage bike riding for him when he was younger because he wasn't very coordinated. Couple that with his bleeding disorder, and it was just a recipe for disaster. But he was finally ready this summer.

Dylan gets really down on himself when he can't do things straight away. He is very smart, and expects to do new things with ease. And he's so sensitive that he cries when he's disappointed. So teaching him to ride a bike was frustrating for me and Martin. It took so much patience and loving encouragement, which is really hard to give when your six year old is crying like a baby over NOTHING!

I wasn't there the first time he rode on his own. I was at my yoga class. But I saw the video, which was brilliant. And he is so proud of himself.

Seeing my children grow and develop is everything I dreamed it would be. So many aspects of motherhood are not, but this one meets all of my expectations! To catch a brief glimpse of their full potential, well, there are no words to describe the absolute wonder of it...

Life...

It's changed a lot since my last post. And I do mean a LOT!

First and foremost, both kids are now back in school. And Edith is going for full days instead of half days. So this means that I am now a full time home-maker with free time during the day. And let me just say, it is every bit as good as I thought it would be. My days are spent cleaning the house, doing the shopping, baking bread, preparing meals, visiting with friends, and going to the gym. Not to mention that I get nearly two hours of time alone with my husband EVERY SINGLE DAY! It's like heaven in 6 1/2 hours.

Once we got the kids safely back to school, Martin and I buckled down and got the house ready to re-list with our real estate agency. They came and photographed the house two weeks ago, and the "for sale" sign went back up last week. We are going to be tiling the dining room next week, but then all the big projects are finished and it's just a case of keeping the place clean and getting the right people in for viewings so they can fall in love with our house and buy it from us. Fingers crossed.

In other news, I have started weaning myself off the Prozac. I have been on half a dose for over a month now, and will be reducing again next week. The meds helped me out of a bad place, and I have no regrets about taking them. But coming off them makes me realize just how medicated I was. I feel as though I am getting my personality back. I am having to work harder to control my temper, but I am enjoying life so much more. If I have to go back on them, I will. I never want to be in that dark, dark place again. But I'd rather try to do without.

Going drug free coincided with my other big change. I am no longer seeing a therapist. I have officially been declared sane :) I feel like everything has just come together in the past six weeks. Life is still hard, but also good. You know, like it's supposed to be.

Anyway, the kids are thriving in school. Martin is staying busy at work. The house is clean.

I just wish we were doing all these things back in Utah.

A very special day...

My baby boy turned six today, and my what a day it was!

It started off with opening a single birthday gift (just to buy us a little more sleep). Then we went ahead with what is becoming my favorite birthday tradition. I told Dylan the story of the day he was born. I do it every year, and each year the kids get a few more details. The favorites this year were how my water broke on the landing and the carpet got all wet and how Dylan pooped while he was still inside my tummy. He thought both of those things were hilarious. Oh, and that we stopped to buy icecream on our way to the hospital.

We were supposed to go to the Doncaster Dome for swimming, then lunch and a movie. Got a nice, early start, too. But our car broke down on the way there. Luckily we hadn't gotten very far, so Lewis came and picked me and the kids up while Martin waited for the AA to arrive. We regrouped at home and took the bus in to Hull (alternator went, in case anyone was dying to know). We got our lunch and watched Smurfs 2 (Dylan's choice). Then it was back to Barton, a scooter ride to the Leisure Centre for swimming lessons, and home again for a small dinner party of Martin's parents, his grandparents, me, the kids, and Amy. Martin took the morning off, but had to go in to work at five.

Chicken noodle soup was devoured, cake was enjoyed, toys were played with, goodbyes were said, kids were tucked up in bed, and here I am--alone, exhausted, and happy.

Becoming a mother has not been an easy journey for me. Getting pregnant was difficult. Pregnancy was stressful. Childbirth was impossible. Surgery was painful and disappointing. Staying home with a newborn was stiflingly boring. Post partum depression was crippling. And yet, as with most things in life, the hard things often turn out to be the best.

I am so proud of my son. He is bright and beautiful, sensitive, kind, perceptive, and so very smart! And though he was born with a lot of those traits, I know that Martin and I can take partial credit for the way he is growing up and turning out. Most of the time, though, I wonder that I was so blessed to be his mother. He has taught me so many lessons. I've learned more about patience and unconditional love from him than I have from any other person or event in my life. And he teaches me every day. Sometimes the lessons he teaches me are hard ones to learn, about my own weaknesses and failings as a person and as a parent. But I love him for those lessons all the same.

I still remember the night I found out I was pregnant. I cried tears of joy. I often think back to those times when I used to lie in bed feeling him roll around inside me, watching the taut skin on my belly ripple and wave like a flag in the breeze. I had so many expectations about motherhood. So many dreams and fantasies. Then Dylan was born, and nothing was like I expected it to be. It was so much harder.

But it was infinitely better...

Freedom...almost!

Something amazing happened yesterday. So amazing that I would have blogged about it last night had I not had company over (Thursday night is when Amy comes over for dinner).

I sent the kids to Micky B's shop to get me some garlic.

Alone!

For those of you who aren't familiar with my little neighborhood, this probably sounds like a much bigger deal than it is. For those of you who know my neighborhood, you're probably wondering what the big deal is. His shop is just around the corner from our house. It's kind of like mom and dad sending someone over to the Jones's house to borrow a cup of sugar, only with money. So it's really close, and they don't even have to cross any roads to get there.

Why is it a big deal then, you ask? Because it was the FIRST TIME EVER they have gone off our property with no adult supervision.

I wondered if it was a good idea. Dylan is not quite six, and I have no concept of what is "normal" and "acceptable" in these situations. But he's super mature for his age, and I was in the middle of making jam and pasta sauce. So I gave the kids £1.50, told them that I needed garlic, and said they could use the leftover money to buy themselves sweets. Off they toddled, I watched them to the corner, and ten minutes later they came home with three heads of garlic and a bag of penny sweets each. They felt wonderfully independent, and I felt so incredibly liberated.

They are growing up so fast now. I know plenty of people who get sad about that, but it really makes me happy. I love seeing my children becoming more self sufficient. It's amazing to watch them learn and grow, and great when they don't need me as much.

I had a moment of clarity the other day about my parenting skills (or lack thereof). My problem with children is that I don't really like playing with them. And it's not a new phenomenon, either. Ask my mother--even when I was a child I didn't particularly like playing with other children. Nine times out of ten I would prefer to play alone. I still feel that way now, and it makes playing with my own children a bit challenging.

I also had another insight a few nights ago. I am doing so much better psychologically than I was last year. It had been a rough day (summer holidays, you know) and I was desperate to get the kids into bed. But I didn't feel stretched to the breaking point and incredibly fragile. I just felt tired. Like any normal parent would after a hard day. And that is progress.

We've only got two more weeks of the summer holidays, and I am ready for the kids to be back at school. Edith starts full days this year, and that's going to be fantastic. But it's been a great school break this time. Four weeks without feeling like I wanted to give them up for adoption? Practically a miracle in my book. Next test will be to see if I can do this without drugs!

Jobs I hate doing for no particular reason...

1. Putting dishes away

2. Putting clean laundry away

3. Filling the car up with petrol

4. Making packed lunches for the kids

5. Ironing mens' clothes

5. Changing the kids' bed linens

6. Cleaning the windows

7. Taking out the garbage

8. Going through old newspapers and/or junk mail

9. Defrosting the fridge

10. Putting away groceries

Wow, this list makes it seem like I hate being a housewife.

Hmmm...

Handsome Dylan

Easter egg hunt at St. Nicholas' church in Ulceby


King of the castle!


Big tough guy with a fat lip. Awww...


Class picture day at ~Castledyke School.

My Angel...

Getting some love from mom and dad!


Learning how to apply blush--or not...


On class picture day at Castledyke School.


Daisy chain at the Humber Bridge Country Park.

What we've been up to lately (in pictures)

So we started out with this in our dining room--a lovely piece of furniture, but a bit dark and dated for my taste.


I painted the dining room walls white, then chose a very bright color to brighten things up. A bit of sanding and a whole lot of painting later, and I had this!


Edith helped me pick out some wallpaper to back the cabinet, and my very clever husband did the papering (with some "help" from the kids)


And this is how my dining room looks now. Nearly finished--just need to paint the light fixture bright blue and find some artwork to go on the wall.

Do you love it as much as I do?

We went to Twigmoor woods today,because it is half term and the rhododendron are blooming. It was so amazing,and the outing rescued the kids from my foul mood. I was reminded today of why I wanted to move to England in the first place. And why I wanted to have children, as well. Because Because England is beautiful,and so is motherhood!

I just found it...

My answer. In the scriptures.

3rd Nephi 22:4

It's been a long time coming!

Blah...

My asthma has flared up. Edith shared her cold germs with me and Martin. Generous, no? She's all heart. Or, as she would say, "oh-l haaaht." My lungs are currently full of gunk and feel like someone is scraping them with a crochet hook every time I cough.

But in other news, we are doing great.

Edith is riding her bike like a champion now, though still with training wheels. Dylan got a bike today. He's not nearly as good as his sister (he also has training wheels), but he's getting better. I see long, peaceful bike rides in our future.

Hah, yeah right!

Dylan finally passed his non-swimmers course at the pool. He swam 10 meters without stopping. Martin and I were so incredibly proud. He's got two more weeks in the non-swimmers class, then he is moving up.

I had a seriously proud moment this week as well. I re-wired the plug for my hand-held vacuum cleaner. A first for me. It was just as good as the time that I fixed the adjusting lever on the front seat of our old Buick. Oh yeah, I am a strong and independent woman, and I don't need a man.

But I have needed my man this week. Martin's been working some more on the ceilings in the stair well. It's a job I am completely incapable of doing on my own. It's looking amazing. Going slowly, but at least it's getting done.

I've also been doing some painting. The dining room is nearly all white now, and it looks really good. It's amazing, how a few shades make such a difference. It's lighter, brighter, and definitely more clean looking. Cream is all well and good, but it does make your walls look just a bit nicotine stained.

The kids and I did a garden tidy this morning. Luckily, BEFORE the freak hailstorm. Things are looking good in the house. We're going to be putting it back on the market as soon as Martin finishes the ceilings. Fingers crossed...

Nothing else is really going on. Well, other than the fact that I've recently been feeling very happy about motherhood, and it's freaking me out. That's a topic that I'll probably broach on my personal blog though, and certainly not this close to American mother's day.

merry men in spades...

...but no Robin Hood.

Yes, that's right. We spent the day in Sherwood forest. Wrap your American heads 'round that. Robin Hood and his merry men, the Sheriff of Nottingham, and snatches of Disney songs running through my head all day long. I got some fabulous pictures, which I will post as soon as I download them to the computer. There was even a medieval May Day celebration going on, for Pete's sake. It was a day straight out of a Hollywood movie.

Every once in a while we go somewhere or do something which reminds me of how utterly cool it is that I live in England. Today was definitely one of those days!

Golden...

The view of Martin, standing on a ladder, balanced on a scaffolding plank that is laid across another ladder and resting on the stairs. SCARY!

This has been the longest stretch of good days I've had all year.

Life has been busy, and wonderful. We've been doing school runs, workouts, therapy sessions, DIY, book club, housework, birthday parties, swimming lessons, the lot!

Therapy was pretty intense this week. My anger issues under control for the time being, we are moving on to my intimacy issues. This week we discussed my religion and the guilt that I still struggle with because of it. I'm going to have a little chat with my bishop soon. Not about any unresolved transgressions or anything sordid like that. I just need to understand church policy on some matters and talk with him about the circumstances in which various disciplinary methods are used. It should be interesting. Martin is freaking out about me seeing him. I think he's worried that I will leave the church over this or something. To be honest, it worries Debbie a little bit, too. She is always very careful not to undermine my religious beliefs. But I feel as though it's something that I really need to do in order to move on. I don't think there's any danger of my leaving the church, though it could make for a rough patch. But I swore to myself that I would do whatever it took to finally be free of my rape and the results of it. I'll take a rough patch, if it means that I will be whole at the end of it.

Killer session aside, it really has been a great week. Thanks in great part to some wonderful ladies. I have been making a real effort to be more social lately, and have potentially increased my small circle of friends by two. You may see their names from time to time, so a brief introduction. Ali is a friend from church. She is single and has no children. She's currently training to be a paramedic. She's hopelessly messed up, just like me, and that makes her a great listener and shoulder to cry on. Plus, she's totally amazing. Helen is a new friend from yoga. She recently moved here from Canada, and she is older than me, but artistic, intelligent, and has a great sense of humor. She also came to book club this week, and I'm hoping she's going to turn out to be a good friend. Fingers crossed.

Book club--yeah, that was when this happy glow started. I was sitting on my living room floor because all the seats were taken. I was surrounded by a group of amazing women. I don't have a great deal in common with some of them, but I genuinely like and respect them all. I know I could turn to them if I ever needed anything. Even though we don't share all our hopes and dreams with each other, I sat there and realized that they were all my friends. A whole room full of people. And I realized how very blessed I am in my life right now.

The kids have been absolutely wonderful, too. They have behaved themselves every time we've gone out in public. They're doing well in school. They have been playing together, and saying the strangest and most interesting things to each other. We've had lots of cuddles and plenty of playing together, plus they've been helping me around the house. Of course, we've also had a few bad days. But they are outnumbered by the good ones. It's been a while since that happened.

Stuff is getting done on the house. Martin has been patching the ceiling plaster in our stair wells, and he is nearly ready to paint. That's the last part of our house that hasn't been "done." Everything else is purely cosmetic after this--just a bit of spit polishing. I know we aren't selling the house right now, and that's frustrating. But every time we complete another project I feel as though we're that much closer to moving back home.

This happiness is freaking me out. I feel almost like I'm high. But in a really good and completely natural way!

Perfect, though somewhat surreal, day...

Took the kids to Pearson's Park in Hull today, while Martin did some work at Larkin's for his boss. We had a great time, Martin took longer than expected, and I was nearly late for my Life Drawing session in Scunthorpe. I was furious, but managed to cool down and apologize for snapping at him. Fifteen minutes or so of anger, but the rest of the day was amazing!

The kids went out with their Nanna, Martin went to work, and I did some serious art practice. Everybody won. Except for Martin. Poor guy!

Christine took the kids to a place called Rushmoor Country Park. They got to feed lambs, hold a three week old rabbit, and see some little chinchillas that were born on Edith's birthday. They also got icecream and Malteasers. I'm not sure who had more fun--Christine or the kids.

Meanwhile, at the 20/21 Gallery, I attended my first ever nude life drawing session. And I discovered something unexpected--I am a little bit of a prude.

The model was an older man, about 65 or so. There were seven of us doing the session, and he was wearing a burgundy colored velour dressing gown until we were all ready to start. Then he shucked off his robe at the side of the room and walked nonchalantly to the center of the room. Naked as the day he was born.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the first time I have seen a naked man other than my husband for over a decade. Let me tell you, it was completely bizarre. Almost as bizarre as how comfortable that man was with his own nudity. I was seriously blown away by how unconcerned he was that his junk was flapping in the breeze in a room full of strangers.

So yeah, nudity is not that casual to me. Nudity is a big deal. Nearly nude, meh. Completely starkers, you had better be my husband or child! I almost felt insulted (on his behalf) that nobody thought his nudity was a big deal.

Of course, then I got over it and spent the next hour and 55 minutes scrutinizing his musculature and bone structure as I sketched him.

An amazing two hours. I was working my tail off, and I am horrifically rusty. But the time flew by all the same, and I left that session with the most amazing buzz. I didn't think that my drawings were any good while I was doing them, but when I got them home and showed them to my mother-in-law, I realized that they are actually quite good. Considering.

Incidentally, when I told the kids that I had been drawing a naked man, they thought it was HILARIOUS!

So then it was dinner, a bike ride (where I found some yarn in a skip and got me a freebie--score!), bath and bed.

It's amazing, how staring intently at a naked old guy for two hours made me so happy. But I'm not going to over-analyze. I'm just going to say that after today I feel more like myself. More fulfilled. Content.

And I haven't even been tempted to dig at my skin tonight!

This feels like the calm before the storm...

I have been strangely content lately. Nothing's really changed. The kids are still the kids, Martin's job is just the same as always, I spend most of my time alone. And yet...

We had a great time while the kids were off school. There were a few days that were tough, for sure, but I was actually a little sad to see them back at school. First time ever.

My temper seems to be under control now. I still get angry and frustrated, but I am dealing with the anger when it occurs instead of holding it in until I explode. I'm sure the Prozac is helping quite a bit (mostly because the changes happened when I started taking it in the morning instead of at night), but it might be because I'm learning and changing.

And yet, part of me doesn't trust this new-found calm. I'm afraid that it's only a matter of time until I lose this control and things slip back to the way they were before. I don't want to go back there!

The other night I started feeling a bit snappish with the kids. It was the first time in nearly three weeks. I got through the evening, tucked them into bed, came downstairs and picked the crap out of my skin on my face and arms. Then I downed a pint of Ben and Jerry's and consoled myself with a night on the sofa. So I'm not taking it out on the kids--I'm punishing myself for getting angry and then trying to make myself feel better. Not healthy.

But at least I'm not doing them any harm. I'm already messed up--the damage is done. I'd ten times rather harm myself than harm my children!

DO instead of BE

I'm reading "How To Be A Woman" by Caitlin Moran at the moment. Most of the people I know don't have a clue who she is (sadly). She is a Times columnist (London, not Nephi) and TV personality, and I totally have a girl crush on her. I just wish her book wasn't QUITE so sweary, or I would recommend it for book club. It is such a great read.

Anyway, she considers herself to be a feminist. Not in the 1960's sense of the word, with all of those negative connotations, but a "modern" feminist. She poses an interesting "test" to see if you are a feminist as well:

Put your hand in your pants.

1) Do you have a vagina?

2) Do you want to be in charge of it?

If you answered yes to both of those questions, congratulations. You are a feminist.

(Sorry for saying "vagina," Dad and Grandma Lofley)

She poses some interesting questions about our perception of woman, now and throughout history. I've been doing some thinking and re-evaluating, and that can only be a good thing. Currently, this is what I've been thinking about the most:

Men go out and "do." Women tend to stay in and "be." Our lives are very much internal, and we define ourselves by who we are, rather than what we do. So we over think everything. We become introspective and slightly neurotic.

Guilty!

So I've decided that for one night only, I will focus on what I do. Not analyze it to death. Not go all introspective about things, and wonder what it says about me as a person that I prefer reading a book to playing at the park with my kids and just focus on the fact that I brought them there to play and I look up when they call for me.

Hmm, it's a bit refreshing already.

Today has been lovely. It was about 10 degrees (celcius) outside, so the kids and I ventured out with warm jackets instead of coats. Bliss! Got some fresh air, fed the ducks at Water's Edge, had lunch at McDonald's, watched a movie together, had drinks at Stables, enjoyed a short book and a cuddle at bed time, finished the book of Jacob in the Book of Mormon, and just generally enjoyed each others' company. And though introspective Jamie would wonder why she still didn't feel like a good mother despite devoting all that time to the kids, action-focused Jamie realizes that we spent the whole day together, didn't argue, didn't go hungry, had a good time, got some educational AND spiritual junk in there, and that the kids went to bed tired, happy, and well-loved. I don't care who you are, that is a successful day!

So yeah, No-tech Tuesday. An idea ripped off from the Mundays, and we've had two successful goes. Basically, it is exactly what it sounds like. Every Tuesday, we do not use any technology for entertainment purposed. The exception to the rule is that we CAN listen to music. No TV, no Kindle, no games on phones, no Wii. And the kids don't even ask us, because they know the answer is no. It is seriously nice to have one day a week without all the noise and distraction of technology. The first week we made Easter eggs together. This week we went up to the Mundays and the kids played a board game while Emma and I had a visit. It just feels so wholesome and good!

Edith will get an entire post dedicated just to her for her birthday, because she is that special. But not on introspection-free night. I'm going to go DO something. Just as long as it doesn't involve leaving the house...

The sun came out today...

Literally AND figuratively speaking.

The kids are on Easter holiday from school. Two weeks off seems like a long time when you love your kids but don't often like being a parent.

Wow, that sentence up there makes me seem like SUCH a bad person!

Anyway, I struggle with full on, non-stop motherhood for stretches longer than three days. School holidays aren't something I typically look forward to. But I think this one might be ok.

It's been a cold, snowy spring so far in England. Right now, it looks more like Utah in the spring. Everything is dead from the snow we had, and it's usually green all the time. We've been bundled up to our eyeballs every time we step out of the house, shivering in the mornings, scraping ice off the car windows. Just, blah!

But today it was actually warm. The sun was shining. There was a cold breeze, but if you were out of the wind you didn't need gloves on for the first time this year. It was blissful!

So this morning, before I went to yoga, I decided to hang the washing on the line. It's kind of funny, how doing such a mundane task makes me so happy. Especially if I am wearing a skirt and an apron to do it. But anyway, I was outside humming to myself and pegging washing up to dry, when I had the most brilliant moment of happiness. It was as though I had been working in a dark room, straining to see, and somebody switched on the lights. You know that moment in "The Wizard of Oz" when it switches from black and white to Technicolor? Yeah, it was just like that.

All of a sudden, the world seemed like a brighter and happier place. All because it was warm enough to line dry my clothes. Sad, huh? But such a great moment.

Of course, the feeling didn't last all day. But it did last long enough for me to only snap at the kids a few times before I got them in to bed. And now I get to enjoy some peace and quiet with my own company and a good book.

I'll blog about Edith's birthday, Easter, and our new "no tech Tuesdays" later this week, but right now I need to rinse the chemicals off my hair so it doesn't all fall out. That would probably seriously harsh my spring time buzz!

Regrets...

Sometimes, it doesn't occur to me to let other people do things.

Not like I won't let Martin do the dishes or I won't let my mother-in-law take the kids for an afternoon. I LOVE it when those things happen. I mean other things, like letting Dylan do the vacuuming after tidying up the front room. I taught him how to vacuum a few months ago, but haven't asked him to do it for me since then. I asked him to last week, and he was so excited to help out!

But worse was last Thursday when Edith asked Amy if she wanted to say the prayer. I told her I would say it, and she asked why Amy couldn't. I explained that Amy, who goes to the Church of England, doesn't say prayers the same way we do. She looked at me and said, "Of course I do. I've always wondered why you wouldn't let me say prayers at your house."

Wow!

Guess what? She said the bed time prayer that night. And from now on, any time one of the kids asks her if she wants to say the prayer, I'll sure let her.

It really made me wonder how often we fail to let people do the things that they would love to do. How often do we exclude people by doing what we think is the "nice" thing to do?

Amy has been having dinner in our home once a week for nearly three years now. I've missed out on three years worth of chances to make her feel loved and welcome in our home by praying with us and for us. Talk about regrets! But I'll do better from this day forward. And I'll be thankful that I've learned this lesson. After all, better late than never. Right?

The power of a good book

Edith is learning phonics, and it's amazing! I sat at KFC with her this afternoon (don't judge me, ok? Mama didn't want to do any cooking!) and made words with her fries. She was reading them, and it blew me away.

I felt the same way when Dylan learned to read. It will never cease to amaze me how quickly kids learn to read. I mean, think about what an abstract concept it is. There are marks on a page that arbitrarily represent sounds. We string them together to create words, though there aren't any hard and fast rules of pronunciation--at least, not with English. So you go from seeing marks on a page to reading War and Peace. Scribbles, to complex ideas. WOW!

This girl is going to be really smart. At first, I worried that she wouldn't be as smart as her big brother. Dylan is so intelligent it's scary. I still don't know if she'll be on par with him, because it's early yet. But she's no dummy. I love that my kids are bright and into books.

Dylan's reading is coming on brilliantly, as well. He's no longer reading "baby books," but has graduated to the big kid ones. His current book had 159 pages, and he loves it.

I'm having visions of long, sunny afternoons in the garden, all of us reading our own books.

Mmmmm...sounds like my idea of heaven!

Whirlwind day...

Seriously, where has the day gone? It was Edith's ballet lesson this morning, and hot chocolate and donuts for breakfast afterwards. Then it was cleaning up, making lunch (and dinner for later), eating, and dashing out to Scunthorpe. It was exchanging some stuff at Primark for the right size, going to the library, supervising the kids in making mother's day cards for me at the 20/21 gallery (mothering Sunday tomorrow). Then it was a quick snack, and off to the Speech and Drama festival trophy showcase. Home then, quick dinner, bath, and bedtime. Then a little tidy up, a Skype call with my mom (hi Mom), and lesson preparation. Now it's blogging, soon to be followed up by more tidying, reading, and bed. Hmmm, maybe I'll squeeze a little yoga in there as well.

Phew!

Got some thoughts brewing on forgiveness. They really belong on both blogs. But for now, I'd just like to leave this with all of you:

My Dylan

Today he participated in the Scunthorpe Speech and Drama Festival. He memorized a poem by Grace Nichols called "Don't Cry, Caterpiller," and recited it in front of a room full of people and a judge. He did it beautifully, and took first place out of 20 other children. He's going to be performing it at a concert on Saturday. Oh, I was so terribly proud of him!

In other Dylan news, he contributed the following items to a recent load of laundry:

A small plastic hedgehog, which he has named Charlotte.

Several notes from school.

A die cast model of a police cruiser.

Some Angry Birds trading cards.

The slug made it into that load without any help from Dylan whatsoever.

Sometimes being a housewife is the funniest job in the whole world. Gross, but funny!

Can of Worms...

Nearly finished with the stairs project--at least what I can do on it. Two of the 16 steps need to be replaced, and that is definitely a Martin job. But I applied the second coat of paint this evening, and they look mighty fine. It has yet to be decided if they will stay pure white. Martin is plumping for funky coloured risers. The jury's still out with me.

I've finally got my DIY momentum back, after a three month hiatus. I've just been feeling that urge to beautify my home. If I was pregnant, I'd think I was nesting. Maybe it's just that spring is happening all around me, and it makes me want to deep clean. Anyway, I'm thrilled that the desire is back. While it's here, I'm making a big push to get stuff done.

My can of worms is this:

I mixed up a batch of filler to repare some of the gaps between the walls and the base boards on the stairs this evening. I mixed up a bit too much, so I went on a little hunt to find any cracks throughout the house that needed filling. I don't think I'll ever be able to stop. My house is more cracks in the walls than it is walls. ARGH!

Now sure, I could just leave them. They've never really bothered me before. But now I've seen how much better it looks when they are filled, and there's no turning back. And, of course, filling the cracks means sanding and then painting as well. What have I done???

Tonight I was just going to work for about an hour. Instead, I worked for two and a half. It's good to get stuff done, but still...

In other news, we had parents' evenings for both kids this week. As usual, we were told that our children are very bright and well adjusted. Dylan is the top of his class in several subjects (but appears to be resting on his laurels at the monent) and Edith is part of a very small, select group of early readers. No, she's not reading yet. But she is learning phonics and beginning to spell very simple three letter words.

Martin is back at work after his (totally amazing) week off, and we all miss him. Especially me, because I love that man to distraction. His schedule is going to be strange for a few weeks because of English Mother's Day, and he's going to be pretty busy for that. They're getting closer to finishing off the upstairs function room at Stables, so that's something to look forward to. They had cocktail night last night, with live music. Fun, huh?

Bottom line is, we are all super busy, happy, and healthy (I don't think I'll ever stop using that silly Oxford comma). So don't worry about us, mom.

Now I need to go try and get some sleep while feeling totally high on paint fumes. Wish me luck.

Wheeeeeee...