Monday, 26 October 2009

....has been dropped

So my parents arrived early...grr. I don't know about you, but personally I think there's nothing more annoying than visitors arriving early-especially when you have kids. I vividly remember when my son was a baby, people would think nothing of just ruddy turning up 20 minutes before they said they would, when I was trying to squeeze in a quick breastfeed before they came...aargh.
Though clearly that wasn't the situation this time, it's still irritating, as we were only halfway through the chocolate cookies I mentioned in my previous post. So much for the warm Mary Berry atmosphere!
Anyway, we decided after a quick lunch (and finishing the cookies) that we would take my son to a kids' adventure play place-you know, these places with the slides and ball pools etc etc. This one was quite good, and contrary to what it sounded, more than suitable for my soon to be 10 year old-he had a blast. I did notice every kid was running around & sweating so much that their hair was
My stomach was churning pretty much all afternoon-not only with the thought of telling my parents our news, but also with the fact that they never brought me up that well-so I have to say, I really detest sharing news of any importance with them. What does it have to do with them?? Were they interested in how well I might do in life or how bad things would affect me, when they were arguing nonstop when we were kids? No. Was my father interested in my wellbeing when I had to barricade my bedroom door to stop him storming up the stairs to beat me up? No. So really, I tell them the bare minimum (Bitter? Me? Nah!!).
We left the play centre, and went back to my flat, where, after a bit longer, I told them that The Swede wanted us to go live in Sweden with him.
I have to say they were quite pleased for us, and at the chance of us both having a better quality of life over there. My dad said he had always wondered how I managed as a single parent up here on my own, & this was really exciting news. So yes, this post is quite schizophrenic, really. On one hand, they made masses of mistakes when we were kids, & were too quick to smack us, and on the other, they were clearly thrilled at our news. Go figure that one out.....
So news over, the atmosphere was a bit lighter, and we spent most of the rest of the evening chatting about various things such as jobs over in sweden, how I am going to transport all our belongings over there, what to throw out, budget airline flights for them to visit their Grandson etc etc...and we topped it off with a chinese takeaway.
One thing that was prevalent over the weekend was My Son's bad behaviour. I think he is worried about the move-indeed I wouldn't blame him for being so-it must be scary. His behaviour is showing itself in really violent ways, such as him hitting me, or shouting at me & calling me names (or throwing my mobile phone across the room). I have tried to talk to him calmly and explain that although it seems scary, what we are doing, he must try & trust Mummy, because it will work out for the better in the long run. The higher quality of life over there, the fact that he will have a father figure for the first time ever, and lots of other things.
I am also going to enlist the help of his headmistress at his current school in making the transition a bit easier for him. She is really lovely.We're not going til after the school year ends next summer, but I still think there will be tears (from me too!!).
I've also joined a network for English-speaking mums in Sweden, & the advice on there is proving quite useful, what forms I need to fill in when I get there, etc etc.
It's all go :-)

Thursday, 22 October 2009

The bombshell.....

I'm preparing for my parents coming up, when I am going to tell them about The Swede & I moving in together. I am quite nervous about it, but I hope they will be happy for me. Let's face it, it took me 40 years to find someone worth making a life with, so I hope they will take that into account.
Of course, they are bound to be worried about the reduced frequency of contact with My Son. However, The Swede has reassured me that we can go "home" to England for long holidays etc, so hopefully their total time spent with My Son in a year will not diminish.
It's weird, but I feel almost like a naughty school girl, admitting I have been doing rude things with a man or something. I guess it's because I'm a very private person, as regards my family-I tell them the bare minimum, always have done, and if I don't have to tell them about a situation at all....then great! Never had the best of childhoods (more about that another day), & so I feel most of the time that they don't deserve a piece of me, I suppose. Hard to explain!
Onto happier things-My Son and I have decided to bake some delicious chocolate cookies from the November issue of "Delicious" magazine, for them coming. It's soooo long since we did anything like that, I can't even remember, but hopefully by the time they arrive, we will be sitting pretty, with a perfect house, and a warm and rosy atmosphere, touched by the fabulous aroma that only fresh cookies can bring (A La Mary Berry).
Wish us luck!

Thursday, 15 October 2009

Taking the p***

I am trying to write a blog post while my son stands in the bathroom, complaining that "I need ANOTHER pee!!". Aargh. Poor thing has had a course of antibiotics recently for a suspected urine infection, however, the test results came back negative, so now I'm worried about what could be wrong instead. Hmm. Must try not to worry & chill out more, according to what my son's teacher said at parents' evening last night.
Anyway, onto the "news" that I mentioned in my last post. Yes, The Swede & I finally took the plunge, by jointly deciding that me & My Son are going to move to Sweden to be with him. WOW. It looks scary in
Although I am naturally apprehensive about moving so far (there'd be something wrong if I wasn't, I figure), I am also keen to "get going" with our plan. Lately, there are more & more things which reinforce just what a rough & nasty country I am presently living in. Everything from the boy who has decided to cause trouble for My Son in class by making up stories about supposedly vicious things My Son has done, & getting me into a tizz, then according to the school staff, it's all been bull****, & he was in fact perfectly behaved on those occasions. (There's nothing more demoralising for me than worrying because my child has behavioural issues anyway, without some evil little toad stirring it by making things up!!). To the scene I saw when walking home with some shopping along the local main road today.
Picture this: A woman of about 25yrs old, a "man" of about 18 years old, a child who was clearly old enough to be in school.All standing on the street, scruffily dressed, stuffing their faces with crap & puffing on cigarettes (apart from the child, amazingly enough). The poor boy was crying his eyes out, while the mother screamed at the top of her lungs that it was a "Bad idea to keep him off school because he's a f****** whinging b******". Or something akin to that-it was hard to tell exactly, because the force & speed with which she was screaming actually made it hard to distinguish the words. The "F" & "B" were definitely there though. Meanwhile, "Dad" stood there tutting, & giving the son disparaging looks.
I desperately looked around for the local policeman I often see on his beat round there (Where are they when you need them?). Alas, he was nowhere to be found. I made an on-the-spot judgement to walk away, only for fear that I would get punched in the face (or stabbed) if I challenged the "parents" & told them what a disgrace to humanity they were. God, I felt terrible though, that poor child, & I couldn't do anything for him.
Later, after taking My Son to his Thursday night club, I actually saw the woman & child in the street again. No screaming of abuse this time, but they were stuffing their faces with crap again. Now I can't claim to have always been the healthiest eater, but I wouldn't dream of feeding my child several pasties & more than one bottle of fizzy pop a day.
Or am I just a snob?
Anyway, these two delightful episodes (the viciousness of that horrible brat at school, & the vile mum in the street) have just about made my mind up. And you know what?
I won't miss Britain.

Sunday, 11 October 2009


Here I am, sitting at my pc in my pjs, at 16.20 (Yes, I'm doing time the Euro way now-I'm soooo cosmopolitan). There is a good reason for this, though. Today I (and my son) got up at 05.00 so we could take The Swede back to the airport. Boy, I am zonked! I've never been a fan of early starts, & after training My Son far too well (he gives me a good lie-in at the weekends, but unfortunately can't get up Monday to Friday..Oops), figured today might be trouble.However, he finally crawled out of bed, poor little soul, and staggered into the lounge, & up to the table for some breakfast. I, meanwhile, was blearily making a pot of coffee (a must for any Scandinavian, in fact I think it's law that they must all drink copious amounts of black coffee), and some polarbrod/cheese/ham etc for breakie. Never let it be said that I didn't feed my man before seeing him off on the big metal bird!

Anyway, after seeing him off at security, and crying a bit in front of various members of airport staff (who had clearly seen it all before), My Son & I made our lonely way back into Edinburgh, then got off the airport bus for the 15 minute walk home (30 if you allow for the fact that a vulnerably tired mummy stopped off at the shop for chocolate, newspaper & cokes, and was also badgered into sweeties (& bought all of them), then got almost home & remembered she never got toilet roll which we had run out of, & had to go back). After we got home, I put My Son to bed, did the various crappy household tasks that I couldn't go back to bed without doing (or it would irritate me), then went to take my little Sleeping Beauty a luxury Galaxy chocolate drink that I had bought him, and discovered that the damn thing was a whole TWO MONTHS out of date, so had to be returned. Grrr. Eventually, I got to bed for a sleep (if only you could charge your body with a few hours when you need it, a bit like topping up a phone, wouldn't that be great?), accompanied by the raging headache that had developed from the shock of getting up early.

After being interrupted by My Son a thousand or so times, with everything from "I can't sleep" to "I'm going to play you to sleep with my guitar, Mum", I admitted defeat where he was concerned, & allowedhim to get up again. I'm kinda hoping he will therefore go to bed like a little lamb tonight if he never got any more sleep this morning, so wish me luck!!

As for myself, I eventually got about another hour & a half, but I still have the damned headache, so am going to make dinner shortly, to see if that makes things better.

I will write more next time about the news that The Swede & I broke to My Son, but am off for now, as I need to eat. See you soon!

Wednesday, 7 October 2009

So The Swede flew into the UK last week, & broke his journey at Heathrow, so that we could meet down there for my Uncle's funeral. The preceding journey down to the Northeast for myself & my son was a fairly uneventful train journey (apart from sitting like fools for half an hour outside of Newcastle, due to signalling problems), and then the next day we set off in my sister's humongous car to collect The Swede & then proceed to the fantastically cheap & cheerful hotel that I (being the family bargain hunter) had found us all in Kent.
Oh My Lord. As soon as the receptionist handed us room keys (as opposed to swipe cards), we knew we were in trouble. However, the horror that awaited us was so bad it was hard to describe.
Altogether, our party (My mum, dad, sister, son, & The Swede & myself) suffered (deep breath):
Hairs in the bed
Hairs in the bath (different colours)
Somebody's hair band casually tossed on the floor-together with what looked like half a scalp full of their hair
Shabby, peeling paintwork
Yellow stained towels (unfortunately I only discovered this AFTER I had dried my face on one of them)
Shower curtain poles so rusty & corroded they could have fallen down at any time
A bed with a horrendous case of "roll-together" in the middle
The drawers in our room smelt of fish
My sister's room stank of cat pee

...and I'm sure there were others....Oh Jeez.....did I get it in the neck from the rest of the family for picking that one! I have to hand it to the Medway M2 Travelodge tho-they actually managed to achieve the nigh impossible feat of making me think that a mere £35 for one room for one night was too much!!

Anyway, by Friday morning we were suitably soberly dressed & out of the hell-hole, & proceeded to my auntie's house for coffee before the funeral. I thought I was doing ok, composure-wise, however, when I took a look at a photo of my auntie & uncle taken on their 55th wedding anniversary this June, I couldn't speak, & the tears came. It was just too auntie gazing adoringly into the vacant eyes of the shell of a person that my uncle used to be before Alzheimers pulled him under. Bless him, he didn't even know why he was there cuddling this to all intents & purposes, "stranger". Somehow, we all got thru the day, though I had to force my mind elsewhere when all of us famiy members were standing outside the church waiting for the coffin, & then he arrived, and my auntie walked in behind him with her son & daughter (my cousins). Huge gulp.
As for what my auntie wrote on the flowers from her, that is of course, private, but I just hope that I come close someday to the love & companionship that they had for so long.

Onto happier times. Yesterday was my 40th birthday (However I am still in denial & pretending that it's happened to someone else!), & The Swede took me & my son out for dinner at my favourite restaurant. We had an absolutely sublime meal, & a very happy evening indeed. My son also behaved perfectly-well, apart froma few, largely accidental, burps because of the two cokes he guzzled. Earlier in the day, I received a birthday card & a cheque from my auntie, which was a nice surprise, because God knows I wouldn't have expected a card this year after what had just happened, tho when I saw only her signature on the card, & realised how strange it must have been for her to write only her name for the first time, I had a few sad moments too. But it was hugely appreciated, & I bought a nice thank you card today which I am going to write a letter to her in tomorrow. What a brave, lovely lady.
Sometimes I am awfully sad that I don't see huge portions of my family for so long. I am going to make much more effort to keep in touch with my family in future.

Monday, 5 October 2009

I'm sitting here wrapped in a towel, contemplating my last day as a 39 year old. In just a few short hours, I will be joining the over 40 club! I was looking back today at what I always wanted to achieve by the age of 40. Firstly, I wanted to be debt-free, as I truly wanted my life with no financial restrictions to begin. I haven't made it-I'm still up to my ears in debt. Secondly, I wanted to be a glamorous, sylph-like Liz Hurley type. I haven't made that either. I'm more like a chunkier version of that actress that used to be in the comedy series Men behaving badly, with Neil Morrissey & Martin Clunes. She played a know..that one!! (Damn, what's her name?).
Anyway, I was bemoaning my failures to The Swede the other day, complaining that I felt like an elephant.....and he replied "But you're my elephant".
I guess he was trying to be sweet, but somehow, that didn't work for me!!
I'm off now to vegetate in front of the tv & drown my sorrows with a doughnut & said Swede (No, I didn't kill him). Oh, and if anyone can remind me of the name of that darned actress, it will save my sanity. Thanks!