A Day of Thanksgiving

This year, more than any other year past, I have so much to be thankful for.

1. My health:  Last year I spent Thanksgiving in a psychiatric clinic under the watchful eyes of some incredible and dedicated mental health professionals to ensure that I didn't, first and foremost, harm myself.  Beyond that they helped me navigate a torteous path of recovery from the depths of depression to where I am today:  stronger, calmer, happier, more content, more resilient.  I hate to say that I have fully recovered because I'm not entirely sure what that means but at least I know I am better than I was and madness is being kept at an arm's length.
2. My husband:  I can't imagine how diffcult the last 16 months has been on my husband who vowed to love, honour and cherish one woman and has ended up loving, honouring, and cherishing quite another.  We have grown together.  He is my rock and my soft place to fall all rolled into one.  We struggle everyday but at least it is our struggle and we do it together.  I love him more today than I ever have.
3.  My children:  Never in a million years did I imagine how they would change me and how their growth impacts my growth.  They have the sweetest kisses and the sweetest cuddles.  One smile from them can banish whatever internal monsters I am fighting and make every day worth whatever is being thrown at me.  I am so grateful to have such incredible individuals in my life.
4. My friends:  I am surrounded by an army of amazing friends.  They have picked me up.  They have carried me.  They have walked with me.  They have cried with me.  They have bathed me.  They have fed me.  They have laughed with me.  They have brought me coffee.  They have sat with me.  They have held my hand.  They have never judged me.  They never gave up on me.  They believe in me.  They nuture my spirit.  They inspire me.  And there is so many of them!
5. My home:  I am warm.  I am protected from the elements of wind, rain, snow and frost.  I am fed.  I have access to and can afford nutritious fresh fruit and vegetables.  I have plenty of protein in my diet.  I have access to clean drinking water at all times. I am clothed and I have shoes on my feet.
6. My community:   I am protected by a dedicated force of police officers and fire fighters who will risk their lives to ensure the safety of mine.  I have the right to vote.  I have freedom of speech.  I have access to free health care.  I have nieghbours I can count on.  I have access to high quality education.  I have opportunity to do meaningful work.  I have the right to practise (or not) the religion of my choice.  I have the right to love, marry, and have sex with who I want.

There is nothing I need that I do not have.

 

There is much that I wish was different in the world.  I wish there was less hate and more peace.  I was there was less greed and more giving.  I wish there was less grief and more joy.  I wish everyone could grow old.  I wish there was less disease and illness.  I wish there was less slefishness and more self awareness.  I wish there was more singing and music and less noise.  I wish there was more art and less rubbish.  I wish there was less corruption and more purity and compassion.  I wish we took care of each other better and thought less of ourselves.  I wish we were more forgiving and less hostile.  I wish there was less poverty and more equity.  I wish there were more books.  There can never be too many books.

 

I wish I was thankful every day for every day. 

My Valentine

He's a very clever man.  He's funny (although perhaps not as funny as he thinks he is....) but he can always make me laugh.  He's built our son (and more for himself probably) the most amazing scalectrix track along with buildings like you have ever seen before!  Our daughter thinks he hangs the moon every night just for her.  He's crap at DIY.  He can't remember beyond the next 5 minutes so he doesn't plan.  Or rather he plans but it never happens according to the plan.  He loves gadgets and can teach even me how to use just about anything although I must admit I would prefer he would just do it for me.   He can fix any car anywhere no matter what breaks.  He makes a wicked creme brulee for Christmas dinner every year. He makes me coffee every single morning. And I adore him.  He is perfectly imperfect and perfect for me.

He's the best valentine in the whole wide world!

A Decade Later

I remember 10 years ago today like it was yesterday. Marc and I were at the Dart International Sailing Championships in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. I did my first open water dive on New Year's Eve 1999. We were drinking gin and tonics for .35p on a veranda overlooking the sea. The temperature was roughly 96 F and there was a lovely sea breeze. We drank until we rang in the bells of 2000 and our best attempts at staying awake to see the sun rise over the horizon failed. We went for a long and possibly the scariest walk I've ever been on down on the beach where we were the only white faces in a sea of thousands of black faces. We decided that we might not want to go very far so instead we returned to our hotel and enjoyed a lovely braai (BBQ).

Where has the time gone?

In a decade, Marc and I have married. We have 2 gorgeous children. We have a gorgeous home (2 in fact). We run a successful business. I've got an amazing job. We have lost (and gained) numerous pounds. We have laughed and we have cried. We have sang. We have danced. We have made many friends and lost a few (I so miss my grandmother). We have changed in ways that were unimaginable.

The world around us has changed in ways that are unfathomable. In December 1999, Y2K was threatening (but I secretly knew it was all a hoax). September 11 hadn't yet happened and airports were more like shopping malls than lockdowns. No one had Sat Nav. Or an iPhone. Or Facebook. Or a blog.

I don't think I've ever looked back on a decade and experienced such upheaval. I look out into the future and can't see beyond tomorrow. In the next decade at least one of my children will have probably (hopefully?) left home. But beyond that I can't see that far. In December 1999, I never would have guesses that I would be sitting in the sunshine in a gorgeous home in Southern Spain surrounded by laughing, screaming children playing Nintendo DS Lites drinking Cava with fabulous friends I didn't even know but are now our closest of mates.

Maybe I'll lose those final unwanted pounds (and keep them off). Maybe I'll write a novel. Maybe we'll buy our yacht. Maybe we'll win the lottery.

I hope we are always relatively healthy. And warm and dry. And well fed. And happy.

But my overwhelming new year's resolution is to remember to enjoy this moment. And the next. And the next. And the next. But each moment in and of itself will be worthy of enjoyment. And so I shall.

May your next decade be filled with moments that all add up to the realisation of your hopes and dreams.

Captain, My Captain

I need to post one last but most deserved article about the man who made last week possible and without whom we could not have had such an amazing adventure.

My husband, Marc, showed us the way and kept us safe. He steered. He navigated. He winched. He demonstrated tremendous patience with us of less experience. He explained (sometimes numerous times) the finer art of sailing. He referenced tide tables again and again. He checked the weather forecast endlessly.

Mostly he kept us safe. And he did a fine job.

I am so proud of my husband. I am proud he is my husband. And my Captain.

Good Result

A few weeks back our dishwasher broke. That's not entirely true. The leaking had been happening sporadically for quite some time. It's just that 2 weeks ago it started happening every time we ran the dishwasher. My husband loves a challenge and fancies himself as a bit of a DIY man and decided he could do the fixing without any professional repairman intervention.

I shuddered. My house is littered with half done or badly done DIY projects attempted by the amateur hubby repairman. The children's bathroom on the first floor has had painting equipment in it for almost a year now. It's still not complete.

But who am I to deprive this man of a challenge? He took the dishwasher out to the back garden and proceeded to take it apart. I knew there was trouble when he put it back together and we had a clear plastic part hanging about that he claimed he didn't quite know where it went. He ran it and it leaked.

He ordered a new door seal and I did the dishes by hand until the new part arrived. He dutifully fitted it and ran the dishwasher. It leaked.

He thought maybe he fitted it the wrong way round so he took it apart and refitted it. It still leaked.

So he pulled it out from the wall and watched sitting on the floor as the dishwasher ran its whole cycle. He discovered that there were 3 pipes at the back of the wall and the 2 that weren't being used were over flowing and the 1 being used seemed to be backed up.

He capped the two that weren't being used and got some drainer unblocker to pour down the 1 that was being used.

And then disaster struck.

My husband is a bit of a klutz. Not not a bit. A lot of a klutz. He drops more dishes than the children. He trips over his own feet on a regular basis. And he spills the drain unblocker all over my wooden varnished counter top, which proceeded to eat through the varnish at lightening speed and leave a very unsightly big brown stain all over the counter top. OK, so the counter top wasn't in the best of shape in the first place. It probably needed re-varnishing 4 years ago when we moved in. And there are some Easter egg dye stains which occurred a few years back. But it certainly didn't have an ugly brown stain in the middle of it.

I had nagged and nagged at him to sand and re-varnish the counter for years but it just never seemed to be at the top of his To Do list.

I was outraged. He was afraid. I stopped talking to him. He silently went and got a sander and proceeded to spend the entirety of Saturday sanding the counter top. Then we silently went to the hardware store and picked out the varnish.

Whilst Seb and I handed out plastic cups of water to the weary runners in the Windsor Half Marathon as part of Seb's Beaver Scouts duties, Marc varnished the kitchen counter top.

And I have to say it looks beautiful. And feels beautiful. Much better than it was before. A good result. Now, what do I need to do to get him to finish the bathroom?

McDonald's

We are not a prepared, processed food household. Very nearly every night I prepare our family meals from whole foods using in season vegetables although I do keep a stash of frozen veg in the freezer. And I must confess to using tinned (aka canned) sweet corn and green beans.

We do not have dessert (pudding) unless we have guests round for dinner.

We are not a fast food household. We may once/month indulge in McDonald's or pop into Pizza Hut for a treat after a trip to the cinema every six months or so.

My diet has upset the normal rhythm of the house though. Marc, like many men I know, is wholly incapable of preparing a meal consisting of more than one dish in under 1 hour and will never ever get it all on the table at the same time piping hot. He has tried on numerous occasions and failed just as many.

Marc doesn't really get the whole 5/day rule. It is not unusual for him to prepare a meal with absolutely not a single vegetable on offer.

Marc wholeheartedly believes that a quart of ice cream is dessert. Every night.

Because my loving, supportive (albeit culinary challenged) husband has agreed to prepare every meal for our children during my weight loss challenge, I have decided to let it go and just put it up to the universe. If I can eat nothing for 100 days then my children will certainly survive the gastro adventure that is their father's meal preparation philosophy.

I have taken it upon myself to prepare weekly menus for the next 10 weeks. I have taken extra care to ensure that nothing is especially challenging. All meals are fairly well balanced and should take under 40 minutes to prepare - start to finish. He can choose to use these menus or feel free to veer off course.

I have also prepared corresponding grocery lists. They contain all the items he will need to purchase before the week begins in order to prepare the food for that week's menu. It takes into consideration the contents of the cupboards, freezer, etc. This works unless he veers off course.

Which has led me to my white knuckle moment. Tonight Marc decide to veer off course and get the children and himself dinner from McDonald's. Have you ever smelled a hamburger and french fries right under your own roof and not been able to partake in the debauchery?

My knees buckled and I was salivating. I wanted to rip my children's greasy messes right out of their hands and gobble the calorific mountains in 2 second flat. Heck, I reckon I could eaten it all in under a second.

Sheer torture. I am now contemplating enforcing the meal plan. Not sure how I would manage that but I am plotting my revenge.

Husband v Sister

My husband loves my sister and my sister loves my husband. Not in that sicko way but like brothers and sisters should. Better than in-laws typically do.

My sister posted an astute comment/observation to my Laundry Fairy post. The comment was aimed at my husband. Bullseye.

When I showed my husband her comment he chuckled. If I had said something he would have been cross and insulted. But when Steph says it he chuckles. Are you kidding me? She gets away with murder (being the baby in the family and all, blah blah blah).

So this morning I asked him if he wished he had married her instead.

My husband stops dead in his tracks and replies, "Must those be the only 2 choices?"

Laundry Fairy

I have a laundry fairy. Do you have a laundry fairy?

What is a laundry fairy?

The laundry fairy puts all folded clothes away in drawers and hangs it up on hangers.

Whilst my husband will occasionally help out by folding a few pairs of underpants and a couples of his t-shirts he really has no idea how all of these items make into into the drawers and closets. He will, if asked super nicely, carry the laundry basket upstairs.

But that is as far as it will go. He has never ever hang up any of the children's clothing. And the only reason he knows where anything goes is because he gets them dressed in the morning after I've left for work.

So the laundry fairy swoops in and rescues us. She (and it would be a she) puts it all away in the allocated drawers and ensures the nice clean clothing doesn't get any wrinkles.

Isn't that nice of her? I'll bet you wish you had a laundry fairy.

I Have A Date

....with my husband!

We are going to the cinema to see Charlie Wilson's War (I'm working on that Oscar list). Wahooooo!

I am soooo excited....what am I going to wear? Should I take a shower?

Wife, Not Mother

What is it about husbands that makes them think that when you took your vows of marriage you also agreed to act as their mother?

Why do they assume that just because you make the children's dental appointments you should also make their dental appointments? And doctor appointments?

Why is it that when the loo roll is finished they leave the empty one on just like the children do?

What makes them leave rubbish on the counter tops and prevents them from throwing it away, like the security tabs from milk jugs and juice bottles? Why can't they throw away their own dirty tissues?

Why is it that when you ask them to clear the dining table they take everything off but fail to wipe it down, just like a child?

Why does the responsibility for sending their mother a birthday card suddenly fall to me once we agreed to spend the rest of our lives together in holy matrimony?

Why in the world am I the only one who cares that all the socks are matched up and definitely the only one in my entire household to throw away sock and underpants with holes in them?

Why does he expect me to buy him shoes? socks? underpants?

Why can't he throw away an empty bottle of his deodorant/shampoo/shower gel? And put that he needs a new one on the shopping list? Or buy his own?

Why am I the only one who thinks about birthday gifts for friends and our children's friends? Why am I the only one to do the Christmas shopping?

Why is meal planning my job? (OK, I know the answer to this one. Marc did it once and we didn't eat a green vegetable for about 7 days.)

But seriously, men, we are your wives, not your mothers. Just because we promised to love, honour and cherish you does not mean that we are your maid, chef, personal assistant or your mother! Take care of yourselves and we will take care of you.

Unplanned Cleaning

In IT (or IS - whatever you want to call all the computers) we have two kinds of outages.

Planned outages are those that are, uh, planned. We know we have to bring something down to do something. We plan these for weeks, months, sometimes (if we are not so good at it) we may plan for years. We tell everyone about the outage so they can make alternative arrangements like taking along lunch or finding a new job. We take all the steps we possibly can to ensure that the outage is for the shortest time possible and we can return to normal operating procedure as quickly as possible.

Unplanned outages are those that just happen either with no or very little warning. These are bad. Uh, very bad. After these, some people have to find new jobs.

Now cast your mind back to my previous post about my New Year cleaning frenzy (or just click here). I have been on a manic spree but careful and bit systematic in my approach. I started with the kitchen, moved into the living room, then the dining room (I have lots of crystal and glassware that I rarely use). Next week I start on the bedrooms.

The one spot in my kitchen that I didn't quite attack was under the fridge.

I love my fridge. It's one of those American double doored water and ice cubes in the door style fridges. You Americans should not take your humongous fridges for granted. We Brits put up with the tiniest, useless wee little bitty fridges you have ever seen in your entire life and it used to drive me crazy. Then I bought a big house with a big kitchen and I bought myself a big fridge!

I've read that you should never move a fridge until you move house. And even then you just might want to sell the fridge with the house cause you can bet your bottom dollar that after you move the fridge it will break. Has something to do with mixing up the chemicals and all that - blah blah blah. And sure enough the last time we moved, we moved our fridge in and it didn't last 2 months and we had to go and get ourselves a new fridge. Course, that's when we got this big American fridge so you didn't hear me complaining too loudly.

Now I am super duper careful with this fridge. So I decided that I could skip the area under the fridge.

But I had an unplanned event which led to my unplanned cleaning.

My beloved husband is a little bit clumsy. Oh who am I foolin'? This man is like a bull in a china closet. He trips over his own feet several times a day and it's not like he's got on new shoes. He regularly breaks glasses and plates when unloading the dishwasher and I get extremely nervous when we go to other people's homes for dinner and they've set out the good china.

Here I was quietly typing up my last blog post. I had just hit the publish button and -wack splatter- my husband had knocked something out of the fridge reaching for a beer. I looked round to see an entire jug of single cream had hit the floor and was spreading all over the place.

My clumsy husband is not exactly a man of action either. He just stood there watching the disaster get worse. Finally he blinked (and no, I didn't yell at him) and got busy with a bucket and a cutting board and a scraper - not exactly the tools a woman would assemble for the job but I thought ok, let's see how he does this.

I watched long enough to realise that wasn't going to work or if it was it was going to take all night and still wouldn't be clean. So I suggested he take the cream soaked rug down to the laundry in an attempt to get rid of him.

I got everything I could see cleaned up but then the moment of truth arrived. I had to get under the fridge.

Husband proved his usefulness by moving the fridge and my worst nightmare came true. Dust, dirt, pet hair, dog food, cat food, fridge magnets, pet toys, baby toys, bouncing balls, and various other unidentifiable objects appeared. GROSS!

It took a broom, a hoover, and 10 floor wipes to get the floor clean and my husband's strength to replace the fridge back to its rightful position. It took every ounce of self control I possess not to yell at my husband or deck him when he smiled and proclaimed "Never a dull moment!" when it was all over.

That's my unplanned cleaning session for the day sorted.

Happy Birthday Marc!

Today is my boy toy's birthday!

He is 34 and doesn't act a day over.....uh 16!

Seriously, today my husband is one year older and I love him! He keeps me young and makes me old.

He is your stereotypical English eccentric and if I can't find him in the house he is in the garage trying to blow it up with his biodiesel concoctions.

He teaches the children obscure facts and scientific trivia.

He makes me laugh.

Happy Birthday, sweetheart!

Bio Diesel

My husband actually completed his first batch of bio diesel yesterday. And this morning he put a bit in his car.

He has been making the kit for doing this for ages. If you don't believe me go check out his blog.

My sister starting harassing him the other day wanting to know when he was actually going to put it all to work and actually make a batch. My husband confessed that he was a wee bit frightened of actually doing it. He conquered his fear and got busy.

We've had a wee bit of trouble from our neighbours. They were concerned about the safety aspects. So was I when he was doing it in the kitchen. But now we know a whole bunch more and when they saw us filling up Marc's car they did indicate they were interested in having some.

Hopefully over the next few days (if Marc's car doesn't explode), we'll start filling up my car as well.

The best part is I never have to go to a petrol (gas) station again. I never have to pay tax on my petrol purchases ever again. And we will save over £100/month!

Well Done, Marc! You are my hero......

Wedding Anniversary

My husband and I have been married 5 years yesterday 10 October. I can't imagine not being married to him.

When we met in 1999 in a pub in Windsor we had both been going to that pub for 3 years before that and never set eyes upon each other. Clearly we weren't ready to meet each other before that night. Because since we met we haven't really been apart. We married 3 years after we met (to the day). My Nanny once told me it was destiny and we both just had to be ready and that's why I made (what seemed at the time) a rather absurd decision to stay in the UK.

My neighbour, Dawn and I were there to watch the Rugby World Cup. I was walking through the pub looking for Dawn. God only knows where she went. It isn't a big place and I never did find her that night. As I walked past Marc, I bumped into him (accidentally, I swear) and said "Excuse me." He asked me "What part of Ireland are you from?" I told him he was an idiot. He clearly didn't understand what I said (must have been my accent) and thought that I wanted to speak to him. Then it was last bell and I didn't walk to walk home in the dark alone. I had to go through a very dark, deserted alley to get to my flat about 1/2 mile from the pub and in a drunken state of mind, I thought it was safer to ask a complete (and equally drunken) stranger who thought I was Irish to walk me home. He did.

The next day he sent me a sappy poem via text message all about taking a trip round the Milky Way together so I decided to see him again. And he knew how to sail and it was something I always wanted to learn to do and I thought he could teach me. We've been together ever since.

Our wedding was a small affair, VERY small. It was just the two of us and two friends, Mike and Gillian. The limo picked Gillian and I up at our house in Windsor. Marc had stayed at Mike's house overnight and Uncle John took the two of them to the Registry Office in Kensington, London. My limo got caught in traffic hence my belated arrival. Just before the ceremony started, I handed Mike the video camera and informed him that he would be the videographer for the day and our wedding video is the funniest and best I've ever seen.

He was the first man to make me believe I could raise a family with him. He was the first man I thought I could spend an entire lifetime with in relative happiness. He was the first man to make me laugh in my darkest hours.

We are extreme opposites. He'll be late for his own funeral (although I was late for the wedding and he was on time). I am the epitome of punctuality. Five minutes late is too late, in my opinion. I am a neat freak. His office looks like Hurricane Katrina has landed. He obsesses about cars. I soooo don't care.

We both love sailing. We both love travelling. We both love The West Wing. We both love our children.

He is my soft place to fall. He knows when to argue and when to throw in the towel. He knows what I like and what I hate. Together our dreams have come true and we continue to build new dreams for the future.

I love you, Marc!

Child Free Shopping

When my children were enjoying their time with their Granny this summer, Marc & I went shopping. OK, this might sound like an odd way to spend quality time with your husband but trust me, it was divine.

We didn't have to stop every 15 feet to go to the toilet.

We wondered through a book store and actually browsed the book shelves rather than grabbing random things that caught our eye as we kept everything else from tumbling down in the wake of our children running full throttle through the aisles.

We bought stuff for ourselves and nothing for the children.

We ate lunch out. Just the two of us. We each ordered for ourselves and no one else. I drank my drink without having to give any a taste. I had to cut only my food. I actually finished every thought and sentence I had.

My husband and I finished discussions that have been going on in our house for the last 4 years.

We didn't rush to get home to save paying for an extra hour for the babysitter.

No one threw a tantrum when it was time to go (ok, I did throw a little one but only because the day had to end!)

Marc even enjoyed the shopping! A little bit.

It was a dream!

Simpsonized

My husband Simpsonized me (whatever that means). I think he's got too much time on his hands.

Tell the World

My husband took out the rubbish tonight without me asking! I didn't even look at him with that evil eye.......

Is the world still spinning? Will the sun rise tomorrow morning? Has hell frozen over?

Unfulfilled Dream

I believe this completes the final answer to the list of questions I posed in a previous post. The question was now that you are beyond 40 what is a dream you feel will never be fulfilled?

It was September 2000, Marc and I were making plans to chuck in our jobs and travel the world for a year or so. We were saving money like mad. We were planning on leaving in June 2001.

On October 9, 2000 we found out we were having a baby instead. We used the money we saved to buy a house.

Even though I've traveled a lot, I've only experienced a fraction of the world. And Marc even less. I want to see more. So much more. I'm desperate to see Africa, South America and China. The list goes on and on. Marc has seen even less of the world than I. And he loves to travel as much as I do.

We've got other priorities for our money right now. Not sure I'll ever visit China. Bummer!

Oh, and I wanted to wear a bikini after having children. Never gonna happen!

Married Surprises

The surprises about married life are many! It's not what I expected it to be. It's better. What's the best and worst surprises about marriage?

Best
He's my best mate. My biggest fan. And he makes me laugh nearly every day. At me, at him, with him, at the world, at our crazy life. He would save my life in a blizzard (and has done). Never thought I could love another person the way I love him. Even when he makes me crazy!

Worst
The worst surprise of married life is that even now after 8 years of being together and 5 years of marriage, he still won't do things my way. Grrrrrr! LOL!

And raising children is harder than it looks.

And no one is having as much sex as they say they are!

Must See Blog

Seriously, you have got to check out the progress on my husband's biodiesel blog!