Saturday, 26 March 2011

Cyber bullying? Where do we go?

I watched something quite awful unfold on Twitter last week, and I began to wonder whether we are being a little bit too open about our personal lives?  I have nothing to hide about my personal life (except my identity!), and  my personal details are there for all to see. There are "crazies" out there, that we can be sure of, but I never expected to see such vitriolic abuse targeted at one individual.

To cut a long story short, an individual, for reasons of their own decided to target a particular lady who had been campaigning and raising awareness for different charitable groups.  This lady had been open and honest and had suffered her own personal tragedy, but for some reason " the crazy" had decided that she was a charlatan.  Over a period of a week her "friends" had become the subject of a barrage mad tweets and saw the lady being reduced to a  quivering wreck and trying to explain to friends what had happened in a very moving audio boo .  Subsequently, the lady has closed her twitter account and deleted her lovely and moving blog. It only took a moment to check her story to know that it was indeed genuine.  I have no idea how this lovely lady must be feeling, and am saddened that there are some that hide behind anonymity to debase another human being.

Most of us don't know many or any of the people we befriend on Twitter.  Can we honestly say that they're genuinely interested in striking up an on line friendship based on the same interests?  Or is there a more sinister reason? I generally only follow someone if they have a blog that I'm interested in.  Some of those that follow me, are only there in the hope that I may buy something from them.  I mean, why would I want to buy a man when I have a perfectly acceptable one tucked up in bed?

The Malicious Communications Act 1998 and the Communications Act 2003, gives the computer user some kind of recourse, but it is a long and arduous road. Whilst the police may be a port of call, very often their resources are limited.  It is quite easy to find out the IP address of the user, therefore leading to the identity of the culprit, which would be a great help for the victim in pursuing their claim. But many victims, just want it to stop. 

Respectme gives the legal low down for cyber bullying, with Wiredsafety giving good, sound advice and a step by step guide to reporting and dealing with cyber harassment.

I suppose that by "putting it all out there", we are all vulnerable but I'm not about to let it stop me doing something that I am enjoying, and it's certainly not going to stop me supporting others doing something they love. Stay safe. xx





Thursday, 24 March 2011

Things are changing, and they're not happy!

We're not a morning family.  Our ride to school is generally quiet.  We don't talk.  Bart commandeers the radio as we make our 30 minute journey to the beat of drum and bass.  There's no arguing or fighting.  It really is quite peaceful apart from the thud of the radio.

We pass two lollipop people on the way.  One elderly man and one elderly woman.  The lollipop man always waves as we pass and the kids wave enthusiastically back.  For some reason we call him Bob.  He's wiry and small and his bike is always propped up against the lamppost. A further 10 minutes into the ride is the other lollipop person. The lollipop lady never waves back. She never smiles. She too, rests her bike against the lamppost. We call her Miserable Madge.  The kids think that she maybe blind as she never sees them waving.  I've tried to tell them that it would be impossible to have a blind lollipop lady, but they're not having any of it. 

We've been doing the same journey for the past eight years, in the same car and not once has she returned our morning waves. Finn tells me to drive really slowly past her so that she can see that we're all waving. I've done this on many occasions but she either turns the other way when we pass, or her arm is hurting from all that waving she must do.

This morning as we got to the point where Bob usually stands corralling children across the busy road, the kids were disappointed to see that Bob was not there.  In Bob's place was a much younger man.  The new lolliop man waved back just as Bob would, but the kids were upset.  

"Where's Bob?" asked Mimi

"Probably on holiday"

"It's not the same," said Finn "can you find out where he's gone, so we can drive past him?"

Further along the road we came upon Miserable Madge.  The kids all raised their hands to execute the enthusiastic wave knowing that she wouldn't see them.  And do you know what?  For the first time ever, she actually waved back and....with the biggest smile I ever seen!  

Bart looked at me.  "Mum" he said "Things are changing...and I'm not sure I like it!"

Sunday, 20 March 2011

                                                      

Friday, 18 March 2011

Anger got the better of me today......

I think I've been bullied...well not exactly bullied but chastised for not doing something the wasn't in my remit!  How did I handle it?  Badly I think. 

Initially, when he approached me, I apologised for not doing that thing I wasn't supposed to do. I apologised and remained calm and took responsibility for the error/oversight. But he kept on going!  

Tell me once, and it goes in, but tell me a second, third and fourth time it becomes a little bit irritating. I'm not three! Sometimes I'm an adult.  It really was no biggie.  However, it was for him.  

I think it may have been his passive/aggressive stance on the matter that raised the hackles. Stern faced, enunciated, clipped words, I declared,  "I will repeat myself, yet again...I apologise!" and with a toss of the hair I flounced off in the direction of the loo's where I had a weep at the anger mounting in me!  At that point I really wished I was a ninja!

"Breath in, breath out, he's a twat, breath in, nasty little twunt, breath out, breath in, get a grip, breath out."

 I don't do confrontation...it's not in my job description.  I do calming, I do stroking and I do loving!

I'm more annoyed with my reaction after the event, the fact that I couldn't sleep, the fact that I took it personally, and the fact that I have to do anger at all!

I don't take kindly to being chastised/bullied especially when it wasn't my fault.

I now know how the kids feel when they wail,

"It wasn't me!"

Thursday, 17 March 2011

My au-pair's a dustman...well she's not really... she's a ho!

My au pair Miriam, is a beautiful sultry girl from the Slovak Republic or Slovakia as it is most commonly known. Most of the girls that have lived with us either come from Slovakia or the Czech Republic.  I've chosen them in particular because they have the "family values" that I want for my family.  I know that I can't tar everyone with the same brush, it's just that it has worked for me.

However...Miriam is the exception to the rule.  Miriam is sensual; Miriam languishes; she loves burning candles and incense sticks. She loves long, bubbly baths with big fluffy towels.  Miriam walks the dogs in stilettos (how?), and loves my red lipstick (on her!) Miriam loves MTV.  Miriam loves raiding my wardrobe, and Miriam loves men...all men!

As was usual for a Sunday early evening we had all settled down to watch a movie. Mimi was in bed and the boys were snuggled up on the sofa with BH.  Ben, (22 and stunning!), was on the other sofa, with his laptop researching with PeeWee and Chubba.

Me? I was in the kitchen, running hither and thither, supplying refreshments and trying to finish the ironing, whilst the louche lads were lounging!   I heard Miriam clacking down the stairs and assumed that she was due out on one of her hunting forays. 

After about 15 minutes, Finn came into the laundry room (sounds grand, but it doesn't even have a window!) and wound himself around my legs, while I tried to get the creases out of a king size sheet..believe me I only iron where it's going to be seen!

"I love you, mummy"

"OK Finn, What do you want?"

"No" he said "I really do love you!"

"Well that's handy, because I love you too"  I was touched that he'd left the film to see if I was OK.

"Why is Miriam being silly?"

"She's not silly Finn, Miriam is a nice girl"

"No mummy, she's being very silly and naughty"

I was a bit confused.  There hadn't been any arguments; there hadn't been any pillow or knife fights; I couldn't hear any screaming; in fact Miriam had been pretty quiet all weekend.

"What do you mean Finn?" I asked

"Well, she's sitting next to Ben"
"So?"

"But she's really close."

"How close?"

"This close!"

I could see that Finn was a bit upset, so I wandered nonchalantly into the living room.

Snuggled up on the sofa was Miriam...and squashed right in the corner with Miriam almost smothering him was Ben.  Ben, bolt upright on the edge of the sofa  was avoiding all eye contact except with the TV. Somehow she had managed to squeeze herself in between Chubba and Peewee. That's not the only thing...she was in her sexy underwear and  stilettos!!  She wasn't exactly wearing suspenders, but for a Sunday afternoon, it didn't really matter.

BH looked at me, his eyes as wide as saucers.  I could see what was racing through his mind at that exxact point.

"If I leave her (me), for her...oh life would be, oh so sweet!"

I threw him a look which I hoped said

"Yeah...try it matey!"

So there we were, all in the living room with a half naked girl, at 6.30 in the evening, and not one of us said a thing....not...one...thing!! 

I'm trying to pluck up the courage to tell her we're not the "Pyjama Family" and that we generally disrobe when it's time for bed, just incase we have any surprise visitors.  I'm not sure that she'd take much notice as she never does anyway. BH keeps saying I've got to say something, but I can't bring myself to do it!  What do I say?

"Miriam do me a favour...don't walk around half naked, with your boobs hanging out?" Not sure that she'd welcome that, especially as it really wasn't much different to her usual "Night Figher" attire!

Thankfully, she hasn't made eyes at BH, but if she did...well, she'd be welcome to him! She doesn't have to clear up the wayward socks, or put up with the botty burps!  I have a trick up my sleeve...if she wants BH, then she can have the kids too...I somehow don't think she'd be too keen on that!

Time to dig over the patch..

Yes, I've gone all self sufficient.  Not totally, just slightly.

I've dug over part of the veg patch, but then had to sit down as I came over all faint. Peewee had been helping, but he was digging in all of the wrong places. However he did unearth some treasures...beetroots and parsnips from last year!  They were so tiny and deformed that I realised that chucking them all in without thought of spacing was probably a bad move. Ah well, we learn by our mistakes.

Peewee is rather keen on gardening. I know this as he has taken a liking to my gardening books. They are in tatters now because he's darn well chewed the lot!

So now I'm busy looking through the seed catalogues and I remembered when my Ma used to do the same thing.  She would sit and plan her garden, much like I'm doing now.  She'd allow me to pick the seeds I wanted and I would plant them in my very own patch.  They were never successful, because I never watered them.  She loved roses and the garden, at the height of the summer the garden was a beautiful glow of soft lights and shades  and  aromas of mingling scents.  I would trot around the garden with notepad in hand cataloguing the varies varieties.  I would make her leave the labels on, so that I could identify them (read-cheat), if I couldn't spot them in the book. Of all of my brothers and sisters, I was the only one who would happily dig for hours and make perfume from the petals of the roses.  Never successful, the jars would become stagnant, cloying, and rotten .

I'm a bit of a haphazard gardener.  I can't bear petunias or bizzy lizzies. I don't do hanging baskets or pots. But I love my garden to be various shades of lush green, and  I love growing vegetables.  The kick I get from filling my basket with the fruits of my labour far out weighs the dreary trudge to the supermarket. I don't use pesticides so I hope it's completely organic. I'm not too good with runner beans for some reason. Everytime I grow them they always seem stalky and tough, so this year I'm going to give them a miss!

I have an apple tree which is slap bang right in the middle of the patch, which is probably in the worst position possible. It cuts out the light and draws most of the moisture out of the ground.  The fruit rains down on the patch like bullets from heaven, ..and they are seriously massive.  I've been clonked on the head a few times and they've damaged a lot of the plants.  BH wants to chop it down, but despite the damage it wreaks,  I won't let him.  It's beautiful, it's alive....and the apple pies I've made from that tree have been worth the aggro it causes.

I try and tidy it up, but all I seem to do is move the mess from one part of the garden to another, or spread it all around in piles and forget that I've done it. So there it remains until, I suddenly realise that my veg garden doesn't look like a Homes and Gardens photo shoot but more like Steptoe and Son's salvage yard.

What has surprised me is that the kids enjoy being out there too.  They love sitting amongst the debris, and pointing out the new shoots and flowers.  This year, they each have their own bed, and they've chosen different vegetables to grow in each.  I know it's going to be left to me to make sure they stay alive, but if  I can show them it's not all  about the DS, the Wii, or the TV, then hopefully, one day they will have the memories that I have, of long summer days and the joys of producing something from nothing.


I hope so, and I hope they don't pick runner beans




Saturday, 12 March 2011

And the Liebster Award goes to....


I'm so excited!  Lovely Manana Mama has awarded Yuckymum (me!!), the Liebster Blog award...my very first!  So my acceptance speech goes thus....

I'd like to thank my friends and family who have supported me through this process; to the kids for giving up the chance to spend quality time with their moma; to BH who for allowing tins of baked beans to replace lavish feasts; and not forgetting those working behind the scenes.... blah, blah, blah!

But now onto the more serious stuff, and the duty of "Paying it forward". The idea of the award is to spread the lurve and  to bring lesser known (or not) but great blogs to light therefore I am pleased to nominate the following favourite blogs of mine as recipients of this award:


 A Very British Dude  Radical, verrrry naughty..and they make me laugh..... a lot. The blog is written by two very opinionated libertarians who push the boundaries of acceptable thought!!  I can't honestly see them accepting this award, and I'd be horrified if he reciprocated, but their rants are something to behold. If you like fluffy, furry reads then enter at your peril....or don't enter at all!

Katy Acquaye Tonge...A newish blogger who writes with pure emotion. Her artwork is amazing and her writing soulful. She moves me with her gentle expression and it always a pleasure to sit, read, and be peaceful with her. 

Witty Ways of a Wayward Wife. Not a tweeter, twit or tweep  but a very funny writer. She has won many awards with her self-deprecating wit. Jane is a brilliant writer that will keep you amused into the wee hours. A must read!

Mama...and more.  Oh and she is so much than just another mother. Twenty something in her head, thirty something in her passport, Super-Tot in tow she catches the spirit of real life and translates it all into a fabby read.

As with any award there comes certain rules and responsibilities and if you accept this award you must do the following:
  1. Create a blog post about the award. Include the Liebster image and a link back to me.
  2. Choose and notify 3-5 of your favourite bloggers to pass the award on to, with an eye towards bringing new or lesser-known bloggers to light. 
  3. Sit back, basking in the warm Liebster glow, and toasting with fine champagne..or a cup of tea
Feel the lurve.....

    Thursday, 10 March 2011

    Meme .....Filling in the blanks

    Mama ...and more  .... tagged me for this particular piece and I will do my best to oblige. I'm not too good at describing myself and hope that this will give you an insight into who I am. 

    I am....an idiot, but more than that, I am a stupid idiot.   much more than I was at 20. Searching for my reason for being, brings me to where I am now. I am all I was brought up to be, and no longer afraid of making a mistake or admitting it. I am proud of who I am and fear has no place in my life. 

    The bravest thing I have ever done….was to chase after two young men who had broken into
    my car and stolen the stereo...OK, maybe not brave but stupid, but I did get my stereo back!

    I feel prettiest..... when I have a brown paper bag over my head. I've always said that BH married me for my earning potential...he doesn't disagree.
     
    Something that keeps me up at night.... is worrying I may have inadvertently offended someone. I say things without thinking...BECAUSE I THINK IT'S FUNNY. This phrase has been used many times in my defence and on many occasions it has worked. I very nearly lost my job because of it!
     
    My favourite meal is.... chocolate...but you really can't have a meal of chocolate (without throwing up), so that probably doesn't count.  So it would have to be egg and chips. We were never allowed chips growing up, so chips dunked in an egg with mayo.  Clearly I haven't evolved as a foodie.

    The way to my heart is...by having a wicked sense of humour. An incredibly beautiful person without humour is like eating chocolate without taste buds...such a waste of time!  I was attracted to BH initially because he was gorgeous...but he also slayed me with his wit..win/win!

    I would like to be... an actress when I grow up, failing that a cowboy.  These two dreams are never likely to happen. 




    So, there you go...me in all my gory, glory. Now I've got to tag some other peeps that I've been reading recently, if they've done it already, my apologises to them. If they don't want to, I know they'd love you to visit. Thanks to lovely Mama... and more,  for thinking of me.

    Cherry Mum of  6,   
    Him me and three
    Metal Mummy
    Memoirs of a Middle Class Mummy

    Wednesday, 9 March 2011

    This is the wrong way to parent....

    I'm not perfect.  I wish I was. If I was I'd be like Sookie (True Blood, anyone?). I'd be pleasant, sweet and nice.  But I'm not.  Well, sometimes I am. Nice, I mean. People think I'm nice. People say I'm nice.  But deep, deep down I must be a bit mean because I sometime do and say things that no normal person would ever do...because it appeals to my dark sense of humour.  That's not to say I'm not normal. I so am.   I think my children have picked up on this trait and I think they could be developing it themselves. Oh dear. They're in for a rough ride.

    The other day as I was picking up the kids from school, Mimi and I were having a discussion about whether or not her "bestest friend" could come home that night to play.  They'd decided between themselves and that was pretty much that as far as she was concerned. We'd a million and one things to do, the least not being a pile of reports to write in the hope that I could keep my job!

    Well, Mimi clearly didn't like being told "Not tonight, honey.  Maybe another night.".

    She took her hand out of mine and said calmly,

    "I don't like you. Everyone hates you. None of my friends like you. And their mummy's don't like you either.  I've seen them staring at you."

    Ever been faced with such a declaration?  I looked down at this dear, sweet looking girl believing that this could possibly be true. Mimi does not lie. I hurried out the school gates not catching any one's eye and feeling their eyes boring into my back.

    Which brings me swiftly onto my next point...Me!

    I used to tell the boys.

    "I'm sorry boys, but when Brad Pitt knocks on the door...Moma's outta here!"

    They would weep and wail,

    "Noooo, mummy please. Don't leave daddy."

    "Sorry, boys..that's it. Mummy loves Brad..more than daddy...gotta go!"

    See what I mean...I'm evil.  Now, they know there is not a snowballs chance in hell in that ever happening. In fact they find it uproariously funny.

    Finn says,
     "Oh yeah...like you have something over Angelina....Moma, it isn't going to happen!".

    When Bart was a mere babe in arms, BH and I would prop him up in bed with us and we would read him "Fungus the Bogey man".  It's a pop-up book with all sorts of grisly visuals.  Well, we thought it was funny at the time!

    And maybe sometimes I'm a little graphic.  Getting them to put their seatbelts on was a nighmare.  They'd struggle and kick. Telling them that "The policeman will come and tell you off", didn't cut it. In the end it was a detailed description of what would happen to them if they didn't. Mean? Possibly, but I never had another problem with the belts.

    We also had "The Cry Baby Man". Each time one of the boys would have a tantrum, cry, whine or whinge (and they were the biggest tantrum throwers ever...believe me!) to get a toy or their own way....."Oh look, there's The Cry Baby Man"...I know, I know...that's evil...but it really worked...and it was cheaper than buying that toy.


    So, this morning I asked Mimi what she meant about  "...everyone hates you!". It had obviously been playing on my mind and nobody likes to be "hated" do they?

    She looked at me blankly for a moment then said,

    "Oh mummy...I was only joking!"


    Monday, 7 March 2011

    Mufti Day and Comic relief...we're the laughing stock!

    Today is Mufti Day for Comic Relief. The kids all dress up in the "civvies" and off they trot to school each with a £1 in their pocket for the privilege. The only problem is, I could only find 50p...between them.  I searched down the back of the sofas, the bottom of my handbag, coat pockets for the elusive £2.50 but would you know it?  Not a sausage.  Thankfully, Mimi had a fiver from her granny and very kindly offered it, as long as I paid her back with exactly the same fiver.  She's even written down it's serial number! So clearly I'm expected to say to Mr Shopkeeper, "Here is £5 for this piece of rubbish that I'm only buying so that I can have the change....and could you please hold on to it, as I will return with a replacement because I need that one back?"

    But that was not the only problem.  Since it was Mufti Day and the kids get to choose what they want to wear, why on earth is Finn dressed up in a Pirate costume, brandishing a machine gun?  We had a bit of a conversation whereby Finn told me that this particular pirate is a policeman hence the machine gun. Since when did our policemen use guns? It's no use explaining to him...it's all falling on deaf ears.   Bart however, looks like he's just  danced straight out of  "Step up 1", with his jeans tucked neatly under his buttocks, trainers with their laces removed, his ski jacket neatly topped off with my Alexander McQueen scarf...because it has skulls on it! He looks like a mini Michelin man! I wish I could say Mimi looks relatively normal, but she doesn't. She's almost colour coordinated but she's wearing a pink tutu (with a smattering of baked beans), a tiara, lime green tights and a pair of wellingtons! She's either backcombed her hair this morning, or hasn't brushed it...and she won't let me touch it!! It's very clear i have no influence over their choices since they ignored the lovely (clean) clothes I laid out for them. 

    Pulling up at the school,  I could see that most of the kids were dressed in their "Sunday Best".  Most of them looked wholesome, healthy, normal....and clean!  I could see some of the mothers sniggering into their twin sets, knowing that I'd got it wrong...again!

    I wanted to call out to them

    "No, YOU'VE got it all wrong...It's about expressing your individuality!"

    but I didn't, because it's clear  I have no control over them what so ever.

    Marion (school gate mum/frienemy), sidled over,

    "So...what have you come as?"  

    I'm all for charity, but when it looks like we're the family that needs it I'm not so sure!

    Sunday, 6 March 2011

    I could've blinded him...




    It doesn’t take much to render me useless in an emergency.  The sight of blood usually brings me to my knees…I don’t quite faint, but run around the room looking for things that will probably be useless in staunching the flow…like a piece of paper or tape measure.  Having these things to hand probably would be useful in other circumstances but in this particular case could have been seen as surplus to requirements.  

    I’d often thought I could be a good doctor…but not in the ER..diagnosing ailments from my armchair is about as good as it gets!   In this case BH was doing absolutely nothing to warrant an  attack on himself....he was just lying there….sleeping!!  

    As was usual at that time of night, I was reading the latest hardback from Jodie Picolt.  BH was deep in slumber, as was also usual for that time of night.  Despite the fact that the TV was blaring , the side lamp was on , he could often sleep through the thousand lorries rolling past our house as was usual for that time of night!!   

    He always maintains that he is a very light sleeper…I beg to differ.  Often when I think we are being burgled, I will jump up brandishing a coat hanger shouting “Who’s there? Who’s there?”  He will open one eye blearily, uttering “Eh?”  He will be struggling into his moth eaten dressing gown, even though I’m half way down the stairs!  I often think his reluctance to interfere is in the hope that the burglars will kill me first giving him the opportunity to save his own life. 

    On this occasion I really do think that he was in a deep sleep. The bedroom window had been open most of the day, as it had been warm and sultry, and I was reading. I heard a buzzing sound which is usually accompanied with flies or wasps.  BH is allergic to wasps as he had been stung by one several years earlier and suffered an allergic reaction.  He carries with him his adrenaline(which hasn’t been used yet) in case of a repeat.  I was watching said wasp fly about the room, while I was considering what to bash it with.  The book was a new one and I really didn’t want the squashed remains embedded on the book I had just begun.  All of a sudden the wasp flew above my head in the direction of BH so I reached out to swat it…however I obviously didn’t have a firm grip on the book and it flew out of my hand.  All of a sudden the significant other jumped up clutching his face and moaning 

    “Ohhh…ughhh..ohh..ugg!” 

    To be honest I have never seen him move so fast that at first I thought he was joking!  My initial reaction was to laugh, so I patted him on the back saying “Sorry, there was a wasp….” He was holding his eye and as he pulled his hand away, I could see his palm was filled with blood!  I jumped up and started running about the room..

    ”Oh my  god…sorry…sorry…sorry!”

    I was looking for something so that he could push his eye back into its socket…or did I call an ambulance first?? I rushed into the bathroom with him following me…blood tricking down his face between his fingers. He looked in the mirror and as I peered over his shoulder I could see that in fact his eye was still in place but was closing and swelling rapidly.  I ran a facecloth under the cold water and gave it to him to place over his eye. By this time I was feeling guilty, ashamed and bereft.  I had damaged and maimed my love even though I hadn’t meant to.  

    “Sorry…sorry..sorry” I moaned trying to keep the tears at bay.   

    “Sorry…sorry…sorry!”  

    You didn’t do it deliberately!” he said.   And off he went to bed while I lay there crying.  I now know that I could never be a murderer…however, I found that fucking dozy wasp and hit it with my book.

    We went out shopping the next day…BH with his black and bruised eye, and me, and  in the middle of discussing the benefits of larger strawberries to their smaller, more sweeter counterparts, in the fruit and veg section with about 1 million shoppers milling about,  he raised his hands to his face and shouted,

    “Don’t hit me… don’t hit me”

    …bastard!!!

    Friday, 4 March 2011

    Talking and Clarity.

    It's been a busy week for us all in the household, and I haven't even had the time to sit, write or think.  But it's not all about me. I'm not here for just me...that's just selfish.  I'm here to make the transition through life smoother for those that matter in my life.  I didn't know that before, but I understand that now.

    I used to fight against it, and I used to resent it. But now I just go with the flow.  If you need me, I'm here.  I may have to take some time off now and again, to shut down the brain and recharge the batteries but I'll always be here for you. I'm not doing it because it makes me feel good, I have to do it because that's my role. I've spent many years trying to buck that role and denying it, but that is my purpose.  If I look back over my life then I can see where this is all been heading. 

    People don't come to me for advice (that would be too crazy, I'd definitely send them in the wrong direction), they come to me to talk.  To offload. Too gain clarity. I used to suck it all in, live it and it would drain me beyond belief.  Now, I understand that it's just words and I can listen without having to put it all right for them.
    The niggles, that the kids come home with.  The friend that's been mean.  The teacher that's shouted. The homework that hasn't been completed. It's all forgotten with a few words. The next day is a clean slate. Ma often has a bee in her bonnet about someone or something.  I know and understand that it is for that particular moment. Tomorrow she will feel differently about it.  It doesn't matter that the words are hateful, but once spoken the feelings are gone.

    Everyone needs someone to talk to. Once the words are spoken, the burden is lifted. The old saying "A problem shared is a problem halved"?  Never a truer word spoken. My confidant is my diary.  I write to unburden, and I write to gain clarity.  Not always well, but from my soul. And it helps.




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