fairytale love story

The Change

5 August 2010

I'm the one on the right without the fuzz!

I’m twelve.  16 April 1980

Blondie is on Radio Hauraki squealing ‘Call Me’. I spend my weekends lying by the pool in the sun basted with coconut cream. I am attempting to turn a darker shade of freckle. I lie dreaming about the man I’ll marry and what I will do when I’m older. Will I be on the stage? Will I be a writer? Perhaps I’ll be a foreign correspondent somewhere. There’s fighting in Afghanistan and Jimmy Carter is in the White House. There’s been fighting on the streets of Auckland too, between those who support the Springbok Tour and those who don’t. There’s not a lot of fighting in our house, just ominous silence. My sister has discovered God recently and is not often here. Dad’s not here much either, and Mum’s working. I forget to have lunch sometimes on the weekend, and I try to be sick when I eat too much, but I’m not very good at it.

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Things that go bump in the night

26 May 2010

My Englishman is a little like Tigger. On Speed. things that go bump in the night

He goes and goes and goes and goes…

…then he keels over, sleeps for a day and then gets up and goes again.

He’s irrepressible.

But if there’s one thing I cannot do with a grin, it’s being woken at night by a 35 year old man bouncing on the frickin bed!

I know it is 1330 somewhere in the world, and the sun is shining and it’s time to make hay whilst the sun shines, but here, in this country it’s long past witching hour.

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A Girl Guide in Paris

12 February 2010

‘You are coming back…aren’t you?’  

I looked at him anxiously as he rushed to get out the door of the little hotel room. The man who would become My Englishman, looked confused.

‘Of course I am,’ he said with reassuring gusto.

And then he disappeared for an agonising forty minutes whilst I lay on the little single bed and waited. I hadn’t told him that a guy had left me before in similar circumstances and was simply never heard from again. I didn’t tell him that because, well, ….he might think I was that kind of girl. The sort that men have dark second thoughts about, turn around and flee as fast as they can!

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Love Child

11 February 2010
My kid raising manual didn’t arrive with the delivery. It didn’t arrive at any of the three baby deliveries.
I couldn’t return the goods so I had to just make do and raise them according to the principles of ‘mum knows best’. I make it up as I go along. I also believe firmly that kids need an abundance of love, guidance and grit.
Yup sharp stuff that doesn’t taste so good. You find it on the side of life’s highways. Kids know they need it. Show me a toddler who hasn’t tried to stick great fistfuls of it in their mouth!
When I read that a primary school in Weston Super Mare has officially banned Valentines Day cards to save the tots from the trauma of rejection, I couldn’t believe it. The Head Teacher says that he was trying to save his young students from the ‘trauma of being dumped’. 
Excuse me? 
These kids are aged between 5-12. They’re celebrating Valentines Day? They’re getting ‘dumped’? I thought dump was mostly used as a noun attached to toy trucks at that age!
According to the head teacher (as reported on the BBC here) 
“… children get upset when they are “dumped” which interrupts their learning.
He said children should wait until they are mature enough emotionally and socially to understand the commitment in having a boyfriend or girlfriend.”
At first I thought, how ridiculously precocious having boyfriends and girlfriend at that age. Then with a cringe I remembered the games of ‘kiss chasey’ when I was at primary school. I was certain I was going to marry my little friend Wade and live happily ever after on his cattle farm, when I was five. I remembered being very good at kiss chasey. I was fast and determined to catch whomever I was chasing (things haven’t changed much in grown up life).
When I was ten my mother packed me off to an all girls’ school to ensure that I remained out of reach of the opposite sex for a few years at least.
Maybe it’s not so different now from when I was young…
My youngest daughter has invited one friend to her tenth birthday party at Alton Towers next week, a young boy. She came home in tears the other day explaining that the girls at school were teasing her about her boyfriend.
‘But we’re friends Mum. I like him. But not like, like him!’
I understand completely.
Aren’t they taking it all a bit seriously? Dark Princess came home with tales of woe amongst her group of girlfriends. One of the girls’ boyfriends has been ‘cheating on her with seven other girls’.
Cheating? At 13years old? With seven other girls?(Obviously a very busy boy!)
Howdo you ‘cheat’ when you’re 13? By kissing someone else? By sending them a Valentines Day card?(Please reassure me they’re not having sex..)
It’s all too serious and silly if you ask me. And as for the teacher banning Valentines Day cards, doesn’t that just give the whole thing a gravity it previously didn’t have? What’s more, shouldn’t our kids be able to cope?
On the one hand we’re shrouding them in cotton wool so they aren’t traumatised emotionally yet on the other we’re expecting them to be traumatised by applying adult logic and behaviour to childhood games. Let the kids eat a bit of grit, and leave them alone to their happy innocent dreams of what adult life could be like for them. 
They’ll learn soon enough it aint like that, let’s hope they’ve eaten enough grit so that they’ll be ready to cope with it when they get there.

Image: Flickr CC plousia

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The One in which I’m Dumped by an Eight Year Old!

8 February 2010
It had been a rocky recovery, this getting back to dating lark. 

After leaving the husband BM (Bad Move), I’d been mature and spent time licking my wounds and recovering. I focused on keeping my family – me and the kids – together through those difficult days. We did ok. We got there.

It was right that I concentrate on the kids for that fragile time, and not on repairing my own love life even though it had been a considerable period since I had felt any love at all (apart from kid-love) in my life even through the last sad years of marriage.

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Dear Diary…

1 December 2009

Dear Diary 1984

“It’s hard being a teenager. Some people tell you to grow up and others tell you to stay a child for as long as you can. Your best friend isn’t always your best friend and people you thought you could trust, well you can’t. School is hard too. Everyone’s so bitchy. They’re all so bright, and you’re so thick. People grow up so quickly around you. One day they’re laughing and joking and the next they’re all serious and mature. The public all think ‘there’s a teenager!’ like it’s a dirty word. Other people are pretty, and bright and so popular they make you sick. Sometimes you wish a guy would turn up on the horizon, but how is that possible when guys don’t even like you? I wonder if there is a happy ever after. It’s so hard being you sometimes because all the things you want to be, get mixed up and you lose track of who you are…”

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The Back Story – a reminder

17 September 2009

As I’m gallavanting around Stratford upon Avon I’m delving into the archives to pull out some of the earliest blog posts I wrote about our story.

I hope you enjoy them -

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Originally posted September 2009

I should probably explain how I ended up on this late OE aged 40 with three children, dog, cat and everything we own. I think a quick brief back story is required. So here tis……

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