Saturday, 3 October 2015

My Talking Dog

Now...I like writing in my office. I like to sit down with my cuppa and ponder my world for a few minutes (possibly for a few hours after I play a few games of Candy crush...eek!). I could sit in there all day if my life didn't drag me away...but I just don't get the chance!

No sooner am I lost in something  really, really, really important or am in the middle of the masterpiece, I'm thwarted! Yes, you've heard it. Thwarted!  Not by the kids (and don't they know better than to interrupt mummy's  'mummy time'? Yes they do!), not by BH, who knows that something very important is going on behind that door, and not by the phone ( just ignore it) but by the large brown bear called Peewee! He stands at the door screeching! Yes...Peewee displays vocal abilities in all manners! Peewee is a talker. More than that he's a crier. A wailer and a moaner! Baby Bear (yes, I was forced into getting another brother for the brother of another mother) on the other hand is a sweet, less vocal creature who demands attention of strangers by jumping up and licking their faces.  If he can get his tongue in their mouth then it's a bonus as far as he's concerned as he bounds away after his happy slapping! Embarrassing or what?





Peewee looks all sweetness and light but he's the demander of my attention. If I don't give it...woe betide the whole household...he just won't shut up! 

"Eeeeeewwww! Eeeooooowwww! Eeeeeooooaaawww!" 

Seriously.  

He stands in the doorway telling me he needs my attention and doesn't like me sitting locked away.  It's fine when I'm standing in the kitchen  or when I'm doing the ironing, but he can't stand me sitting down.  Come to think of it, he doesn't really like me sitting at the kitchen table either.  He thinks if I'm sitting down I should be curled up scratching his belly...and he will whine, cry and moan until I give in!

He has several different cries or squeaks.  There's a certain one for the lack of water in his bowl accompanied by the raised eyebrow.  There's the one when he needs to go into the garden to bark at the world.  There's another when he's locked himself in the bathroom...(lovely cold floor in there but he will close the door behind him!!). Peewee just loves to talk. 

He's not a bad boy, in fact I would go as far to say he's an amazing boy.  He's almost human. He doesn't like anyone watching while he has a poo, so I have to turn my back. He wakes me up in the morning not with a cuppa, but his heavy load bearing down on my chest peering into my face...squeaking!

BH tells me I have him ruined.  Not for me! I give in for him.  I do it all for the loves of my life. Without me, they'd all have to run hither and thither for our talking pet. 


 They're so lucky I pick up the slack and the cr@p!!!

Wednesday, 5 August 2015

Losing a Parent.





My Dad is strong, fearless and brave. Those were the opening words of my eulogy for my Dad and those were the words I'd written in my exercise book when I was 8 years old. It was accompanied by a picture of Batman...another hero.

There are not enough words to describe him. I said that too. How can you condense a persons life into  a few paragraphs? When I sat down to write his eulogy I found I couldn't stop. I had my memories and I wanted everyone to know what a great man he was. It was easy, because I knew and loved him.

Losing a parent when you're an adult is strange feeling. As you get older you know the inevitable is going to happen but you consign it to the back of your mind in the hope you'll deal with it. Fleeting ideas pass through your mind. How would one parent cope without the other, or how would you cope without one of them? The little things they do as they get older is a reminder of their mortality. The general loss of confidence as they get older. Their slight slowing down. Their little ailments that seem to become more frequent, the questions they'd constantly ask about the Internet and technology, and all the things they kept forgetting and all the things from the past that they remembered....more than once!

Which one you'd prefer to go first?
How can you think like that?
But you do.

They became a tiny bit more dependent on us. How did all that happen?   None of it stopped them from enjoying their life and none of it stopped us from loving them but you hope you won't have to deal with the inevitable.

It's something you don't want to think or talk about.

When the inevitable did happen the world stopped turning for a few minutes. I couldn't think. I couldn't talk. I needed to sit and assimilate the words. I know my brother did too. He told me he'd have to phone me back because he couldn't think.

My dad passed away overseas and we all needed to get to my mum as quickly as possible. We needed to be with her that night but the flights had already left for that day it seemed like an insurmountable task given the state we were in. My sister had found a flight to Finland with a connecting flight to our destination. She wanted to take it. Her husband was pushing her to take it. The chances were she'd be stuck on her own, in a place she'd not be able to leave were higher than I wanted. I wanted us all to go together. Let me think I said. I'll work it out. So I did. We were all with my mum by midnight having taken planes, trains and automobiles.

I've found it hard to cry and but I think it's too big. I know if I cry I might never stop. Tears seep when something moves me. I weep when I hear of someone else's sadness and I cry at a sad tune on the radio, but I can't cry for Dad. If I give into the grief that I'm holding in my heart then I would be giving in to the madness which might engulf me...and that would be no help to anyone.
Spending time with mum has helped me. Over the past couple of years I've realised that caring for others in the same situation helps me greatly. It helps me understand my grief, sadness or pain by seeing it reflected back at me. Obviously, helping mum is the right thing to do, but being with her I know that it's also helping me.

A friend once said that caring for a parent is an honour and a privilege. It is. I see that now.

She's having to start all over again, after having had Dad in her life longer than not and she's finding it difficult. Of course she is. She's never been a weak woman but losing dad has sucked the life from her. She's weak right now. She has no idea how life works without dad. But she'll get there.

My Dad taught us to be strong, fearless and brave. I think we're living up to his legacy. 

Monday, 27 July 2015

"Where have you been?" they cried?

Well..I thought the last post was the break in my 'block'...but it appears it wasn't!  Not that it matters. Shit comes in all sizes and I've had a colon full this year.   I couldn't remember my password as it's been so long, neither could I remember the email address I used. Useless, that's me.  Anyhow, I've found my way back, so for me at least, that's a good thing. I'd hate for it to be lost in cyber world and I'd hate for all the words to mean nothing.

I've been away so long that I've forgotten how it all works. I've forgotten about Twitter and I've forgotten about Facebook. It became so complicated, especially when Google decided to change its method of feeding the feeds and all of that complicated stuff so I decided I'd really had enough.  Following someone because they followed me, just to get a few more views. Working out the best ways to get read and to promote the blog. For what?  It really became pointless after a while.  I tried to read everything everyone wrote and I became disillusioned with the whole process. The gangs, the mummy brigades, the whole works! I didn't fit in...and I wondered whether I wanted to. I wasn't sure where I was. I wasn't really anywhere except in my own real life.

There was a point to my blog, but I lost it trying to second guess what others might read.  What I'm really I'm really trying to say is that I wasn't true to myself. The truth is...I'm a writer. I write for the love of writing. I'm a mother, a wife and a writer. There. I've said it. No use pretending. No use in trying to be anything else.










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