Miss Cherry Red

The following is an exact conversation that took place between Keira and I moments ago whilst I was putting her hair up in bunches.  She’s going out tonight with Daddy:

K: Mummy, I love having long hair.

Me: Do you baby?

K: Yup, girls should always have long hair.

Me: Well, you look beautiful with short hair or long hair.

K: Yeah, I know that… but girls should have long hair.  Boys don’t have long hair.  Well, some boys do.  Daddy doesn’t have long hair.

Me: Nope.  He doesn’t.

K: Grandad’s a boy and he doesn’t have long hair neither.

Me: Nope.  You’re right.  He doesn’t.

K: Uncle Pete’s a boy too and he doesn’t have long hair.  He’s got l-l-l-l-l-l-l-loads of tattoos.  Hasn’t he mummy?

Me: He does.  You know, Uncle Dan doesn’t have long hair either.

K: I know that Mummy but Uncle Dans not really a boy.

Me: Yes he.  Uncle Dans a boy.

K: He’s more like a girl Mummy

Me: Why’s that then?

*insert childish sniggering here*

K: Because he has earrings, sparkly ones like mine and he puts that stuff on his eyelashes doesn’t he.  To colour them in.

It’s about now she starts to pretend to put mascara on….

Me: But he’s still a boy though.

K: I don’t think so mummy.  He wears lipstick…. He’s even tried on MY lipstick.  No mummy, Uncle Dans a girl.  Just with no boobies.

Tags: family, humour, Keira, long hair, makeup, motherhood

(Disclaimer: I am well aware that this post makes me sound like an ungrateful and whiny bitch.  I’m sorry in advance)

Apparently my home town played host to a rock festival this weekend and that royally screwed up my bank holiday pilgrimage to my in laws.

The Hot Geek and Keira on the other hand went.

They left on Friday and they’re not back till Monday evening.

It’s left me in a position that some parents envy.

It’s left me child free.

It’s left me boyfriend free.

It’s left me with the whole house to myself.

I should be on top of the world.

I should have an endless list of things I can and want to do.

I should be thrilled.

I’m not.

I feel miserable and alone.

I can not put into words how much I miss my daughter.

I miss the Hot Geek when he’s not here.  I miss his face.  I miss how he looks at me.

My house doesn’t feel like a home.  It feels like a shell waiting to be filled with the hustle and bustle of my family.

I haven’t had this long to myself since before Keira was born and that was 4 and a half years ago.

The pre-Keira me would have had absolutely no trouble filling a bank holiday weekend with all things drunken and debauched.

There have been times during my journey in motherhood where I have prayed to God for a magical remote control that I could use to pause everything.

Just for some peace and quiet.

Just for a little while.

And now I have it.

And do you know what…. I don’t want it.

I want my family home.

Tags: love, motherhood, parenting

This post is part of The Gallery over at Sticky Fingers

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My desire and search for a new camera is much publicised on Twitter.

Hell, I’ve even started asking people what camera they have and for their recommendations.

I would love to own a Digital SLR camera.

I WANT one for Christmas.

I love to take photos and in my head I am an awesome photographer.

The reality, however, is a little different.

Sure, I may not be technically brilliant at photography but I do ‘shoot from the heart’.

I have got tons of photos that I’ve taken of landscapes, flowers, animals.  You name it, I’ve shot it (for the animal lovin’ and non photography type but shoot I mean photographed… just so we’re clear – OK?)

But I have one photo that I absolutely adore.

I have it as a screen saver on my phone.

It is the wallpaper for my computer.

I sits in a frame on my desk at work and my bedroom windowsill.

Look at them.

Not a care in the world.

Completely and utterly perfect.

This post forms part of Sticky Fingers – The Gallery 23

The prompt this week is A Memory and here are Tara’s own words:

It can be a recent memory, one from your childhood, one from your school days. Just a photograph which sparks a real memory whenever you look at the photograph.

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I knew instantly what photo holds the strongest memory for me.

This photo symbolises the day my life changed forever.

It was the day I became a mother.

I have never in all my life felt a wave of love like I did in the moment they placed my daughter on my stomach.

I remember sitting there, looking at her and thinking ‘Christ, I made you’.

DISCLAIMER: I fully accept that this blog may offend.

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My rules are my rules and my daughter will abide by them.

I do not sit her down and ask her what she would like to do and negotiate a happy ending.

I tell her what to do.

If she’s upset, we talk about it and I explain why but the end result will be the same.

It is not up for discussion.

Why?

Because my daughter is not being raised in a democracy.

There.

I said it.

Now… before you all go crazy on me and start commenting that I’m some psycho nut job mum – hear me out:

My daughter is my world.

My beginning.

My middle.

My end.

She loves to play with her dolls, listen to music, paint, draw, dig worms, play on the computer and bake cakes with me.

I believe her creativity should be embraced.  It is my job to nurture it and watch it grow.

But I also believe that it’s my job to provide structure, routine and discipline.

Just recently, Keira has started to play up every time we go to a shop.  Any shop.

She wants.  No, she demands.

She has developed this belief that she is entitled to have whatever she wants whenever she wants it and woe betide anyone who doesn’t give in.

So, The Hot Geek and I sat her down and told her that we were going to give her pocket money.

£2 a week.

It’s not a lot to you and I, but when you’re 4 it’s the most amazing thing ever!

But getting the pocket money comes with conditions.

Condition One – she has to get 3 stars a day (from Sunday to Friday) by completing 3 tasks:

• Brush her teeth every day without being asked
• Keep her room tidy
• Do as she is told, when she’s told.

She can normally earn the first two stars before I drop her at my Mums.

The last one is a little harder.  She has to do as she’s told all day and I make a point of calling my mum at the end of the day, before she goes to bed, and asking how she’s been.

Condition 2 – She can spend the money on whatever she wants.  But if she hasn’t got enough then she can either keep the money till she’s saved up enough or she can buy something else.

You’re probably thinking I’m a complete bitch and that I should just give her the £2 or whatever she wants.

But if I do, if I do just give it to her, what do I teach her?

I teach her that it’s OK to scream and shout and demand whatever she wants and she’ll get it.

That is wrong.

I want my daughter to grow up to respect money and people – to respect those around her.  I want her to learn that she has to work for what she wants because it isn’t just going to land in her lap.

And more importantly, I like to see the look of achievement on her face when it gets to Saturday and she gets her money.

You know, when she realises that she’s done so well and she’s got her money.

Tags: love, motherhood, parenting

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

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

I had no friends.

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

I felt totally isolated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I could hear only my thoughts.

It remains one of my favourite places ever.

Tags: the gallery

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

I learned that children keep nothing sacred.

Here is parenting according to the Hot Geek:

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

And here is parenting according to me:

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

You tell me which ones are more valuable lessons?

Tags: life, motherhood, parenting

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

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

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

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

Here are the rules:

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

So… tell you my blogging philosophy?!

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

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

Damn them both!

So I guess I’ll have to use this:

It’s better out than in

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

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

And I found you in your droves!

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

<insert drum roll here>

My award goes to :

Emma @ Me The Man and Baby

Emma @ Not Such a Yummy Mummy

I love both their blogs.  You should too.

Tags: awards, blog, gratitude, life, love

Dear God

I am a catholic. But you already know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I just don’t get your decision this time.

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

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

Yours

Me.

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Dear Kat

I want to make this better for you.

I want to bear the pain for you.

I want your heart to unbreak

I want to bring him back.

But I can’t.

I can only be here for you.

I can only tell you that I love you

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

But it doesn’t seem enough.

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

Yours

Me.

Tags: death, God, life, love, relationships

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

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

And the I videoed this:

like mother like daughter

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