Monday, July 30, 2007

and finally . . .

Me and Maj may not have made it to Blogher this year (she is on a Caribbean island as we speak, poor lamb)(working V hard, I might add)
BUT . . .
She and Me and P - the amazing rhyming birds - are off on holiday to play on the trams, skip between windmills and sniff out the cheese farms of Amsterdam!

Amsterdam, people!

Girls only!

Thanks to Expedia's last minute bargainy get the third night free goodness.

Yeah for us!!!!!!

(and we're going to try really hard for Blogher next year, so look out, ladies!)

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

I guess that answers that question.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Greetings from the Ark

But having trouble with the two by two thing. One Dog with fear of rain beating loudly on roof. Three cats - oblivious. One guinea pig - likely floated off somewhere by now. And the fish in the tank won't keep still to be counted.

This was our view for 6 hours (only imagine it getting darker and the water getting deeper) when traffic was caught in the flash flood friday afternoon. two months worth of rain had fallen in a few hours.

These are the first couple of pictures I took. most of rest are too depressing. hundreds and hundreds of people have had their home invaded by disgusting water, especially since the water treatment works were overwhelmed and the power substations submerged. it's a bit primaeval around here at the moment. we're so lucky that, while we're surrounded, at least the water hasn't come in. And though the water is off, we still have power. And P's nursery has power and tanks of water supply, so she can still go, so I can still work. Though I couldn't go into the office because the train stations are flooded.

If you google for gloucestershire + floods you'll see as much as you can stand.

Feeling pretty tired by constant state of alert - listening to local radio station for latest news and warnings.

In other news: Cataplexy! Eh? I hear you say. it's kind of narcolepsy's moody little cousin. It was on the way back from the neuro appointment Friday that we got caught in the flash flood. He's not sure why, but thinks he can make it go away. With prozac. Hmmmm. What do we think about that? Not sure. Nothing against it. My hesitation is not a stigma-y thing. Just Hmmm. Seems like quite a commitment.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

D'you know what, Asshat?

If you KNOW that I'm sitting at my desk a hundred miles away feeling crappy because I lost a big client due to no fault of my own and that as a result I've had a bunch of work from other people's projects piled on me at 6pm in the evening to get up to speed on by first thing in the morning and i'm worried sick about my job security - since I am, after all, a glorified temp around here - now is NOT the time to send endless "woe is me" text messages about your fucking premature mid life crissis with lines like "I don't want to leave you but . . .I need a clearer picture of a happy future . . .need to find a good day to day feeling . ."


Saturday, July 14, 2007

So, so sorry.

How can I fix this without you losing out?

How can I take you away from someone I can no longer live with?

I'm sorry I didn't pick you a daddy who could see this out.

I'm sorry I pushed him towards counselling - I thought it would help, not provide a map and compass by which he could better navigate the paths down which we've been leading him to become "less and less of a person."

I'm sorry I didn't pick you a daddy who could see beyond the groundless outpourings of his bitter mouth and into our three hearts.

It's not your fault, my sweet girl, that the blue line heralding the coming of the best thing in my life, also marked the frontier to an era of secret prohibition of your father's ambitions.

I promise I'll do what ever I can to stop you from ever discovering that.

I'm sorry that I've run out of strength to pretend I can carry on. I promise you that I've tried and tried to the point of my own desiccation. But if I walk any further in his barren desert I'll no longer have the strength or will to support us. I hope one day you'll understand that if I don't start to take care of myself, I soon won't be able to take care of you the way you deserve.

I loved your daddy, but he's gone too far away and doesn't want to be called back. I'm sorry I can't be enough of an incentive to him, can't catch his ear or eye. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you the family you deserve.

I have no idea how I'm going to explain to you that we're going to have a new house but that you'll have to leave your dog behind. That you won't have as much space or as big a room. Will I be convincing about all the new friends you're going to make? How great your new nursery will be? How will I explain the Whys without dinting your rightfully superhero view of him? Without thinking I'm somehow punishing you for something? Will you understand that these questions and decisions paralyse me with fear? But that I must move forward?

Monday, July 09, 2007

what's the price and who's paying?

I'm listening to S bathing P. It's been a nightly ritual since she was about 1. when he stopped worrying about drowning or breaking her. It's incredible what he lets her get away with. she was late getting in the bath because she was messing around in her room and wouldn't come to the bathroom. he negotiates too much with her. lets her speak to him in a really rude tone. "I've. told. you. before. I'm coming. in. a. minute" she messed around instead of getting undressed. refused to brush her teeth or let him brush them. continued to be rude. he cajoles and proposes terms. she continues to bark at him. and all the while it's getting later and later, she's getting more and more tired. until any little things makes her scream and cry. too many bubbles. not enough bubbles. some toy not floating upside down. some bubbles on her ducks. she shouts and squawks and defies him. calls him names. "banana brain, "silly," accuses him of not listening when she barks instructions. throws bath toys. splashes him aggressively.

anyone who has met her, people who have spent huge amounts of time with her, our closest friends, have never heard her behave like this. not to another child and definitely not to an adult. she is, for the most part, as far as three year olds can be, thoughtful, polite and respectful. this behaviour is reserved specially for daddy.

most nights there are periods of hysterical laughter, as he invents some great new game with the assortment of toys. but it always ends the same way.

I've often tried to avoid the situation by suggesting that mummy give her her bath tonight, but she always protests that daddy should do it. it's horrible. like those kids in school who can sniff out the most likely victims of their bullying. She knows that S is so desperate to avoid confrontation, so eager to be the one she chooses, that he'll endure any amount of abuse from her.

I've intervened once or twice, but he resents it. feels it undermines him. i've never suggested to him that perhaps this particular horse has already bolted and the stable door is well and truly slammed on his fingers.

Friday, July 06, 2007

rain, rain, go away.

it seems i have the power of precipitation. i'd rather have Piper's power - the freezing and blowing up of things. I think i'd have to pass on the premonitions, though orbing oneself about might be quite the thing on a rainy afternoon. Charmed I am not.

after nearly a year with this counsellor, i say i'm frustrated and want to take a break. not a euphemistic break, a staged termination, just a break. she spends our last hour together telling me things I could have used months ago. about how she sees my methods of managing my depression, anxiety, ocd, etc and my relationship with them. about other things i might try. about how my struggle with it is a primeval battle. that she thinks the way i characterise it, give it form and motives, is a kind of collusion with my illness. she refers me to a specialist shrink who she thinks would help me progress.

so what, was this some kind of big secret she couldn't previously divulge?

And S. I sent him a text (while he was on the train) suggesting that he use the space during this time he's away to think about what he wants and whether that includes me. after a long time he replied saying he wants "security, love, trust and support, to name a few things neither of us are getting at the moment." there, right there, is the largest amount of information he has communicated to me about our relationship in the last five years. and it took me to push him into it. I asked whether I should trust a man with condoms in his briefcase. He said I should.

i can't explain how tired i am at the moment. he's supposed to be back a little after six. i don't want to be here.

Monday, July 02, 2007

why i fucking love my cat.

I have three cats. two are 12. one of them has always been moody and irritable. she has never really been affectionate to anyone but me. she's black and scrawny. makes funny noises - a kind of quack where her miaow should be, and a gravelly sound instead of purring - the result of her having a malformed lung. she's a grumpy old bag.

Last night S finished packing his things for the 'residential course' he's on this week. (to be fair - I'm fairly certain there is a course, it's just the matter of where he'll be 'residing' that seems a little off!) it's casual dress, so he included (and I even ironed for him)(?!) his favourite shirts from White Stuff and Fat Face etc. He included the new formal shirt and tie he'd bought, unprompted and unsupervised (if that's not a clue something's amiss i don't know what is!) etc etc - small homecrafted additions from me he'll find later. Anyway, he leaves the bag downstairs by the front door.

I love my cat.

As his taxi rolled up in the early hours of the morning, he comes running back up into the bedroom, flinging stuff out of drawers and into a holdall.

She's pissed all over the bag, all over his clothes.

I fucking love my cat. Here she is earlier this morning. Taunting her brother who has somehow got himself shut outside.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

weekend almost over. i feel like i'm made of ice. or lighting. something with stinging sharpness. I am a thousand thousand tiny spheres of icey lightening. i'm vibrating at high frequency, waiting to shatter. is this really how it's going to end?
why should I say something? i will not say something. if i stop it happening this time, does that set a precedent. the inauguration of a lifetime vigil? I will not say something. He knows I saw those messages 3 weeks ago and yet he has chosen not to speak of it, not to stop it.
Do I and my daughter not deserve someone in our lives with the moral courage to at least turn back ? to stop and think?
If he doesn't love me, if he doesn't want this life with us, why not be a vertebrate? why not tell me he's incredibly sad but he can't carry on. that he wants to go and find someone who will make him truly happy. have the big family he said he wants. Why disrespect his daughters mother? Why antagonise the person who can administer his relationship with his child as she chooses? (We're not married so he has few parental rights).
Tomorrow morning he'll be gone. I'll take P to nursery. I'll make an appointment with a solicitor. I'll walk the dog. Then I'll cry.

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