Thursday, 29 July 2010

My words, my life

Prospective lover
Ex Wife
Sister in Law
Great niece
Fixer of everything
Finder of everything
Rememberer of everything
Pourer of oil on troubled water
Kiss it all better er
Referee of disagreements
Failed grown up
Gig buddy
David Tennant worshipper
Hard worker

We all have lots of roles and identities in life. Many of mine are there every day, some in huge amounts and some have much less of an impact. Some of my roles I have chosen for myself, some I have had no choice at all in, some welcomed and some of them very unwanted. I am great at some and shit at others.

And I wonder why I'm tired!

Saturday, 24 July 2010

My name is auntiegwen...

and I, my friends, am a great big wuss.

I'm not the bravest of souls, I am scared of big dogs, I am scared of cats, I just about wet my knickers at the thought of mice. If there was a sign of fire, I'd not be the one ploughing through smoke saving small children, I'd be outside, quite far away, phoning the emergency services as I legged it.

I'm even less emotionally brave. It used to just be with men, I am not very good at letting people in. When it looks like it might be a real relationship with feelings and all, I run a mile. Any hint of romance and the L word is met with smart arse sarcasm and flippancy. To save myself the time and effort of it all going wrong, I have now resorted to finding reasons not to date someone in the first place, the last poor man who tried to woo me scored an astounding 23 reasons not to go. And he was David Tennant. Okay he wasn't really, but you get my drift.

Today, I plumbed new depths even for me. I didn't go to a party because I had to go on my own and I didn't think I'd know anyone. I am now a wuss in all areas of my life.

And as we all know how much the auntie loves irony, my clan motto?

"Fortune favours the brave"

I'm thinking I should return to my maiden name post divorce!

Tuesday, 20 July 2010

This week we have been mainly...

Relaxing after school finished - The Beautiful Son has done half of his GCSE's and has not a bother on him. Contrasting beautifully with the month of cross shouty screaming that characterised Eldest Beautiful Daughter's GCSE's. However, she was only marginally mental this time, and now has officially left school.

Looking for a summer job - ha ha ha ha I put that in to save you the trouble of laughing for yourself. Eldest Beautiful Daughter has extensive experience in lip gloss application, sleeping till noon and tormenting Hot Boys with her utter gorgeousness. I know, I'm stunned no one wants to employ her either.

Feeling old - because I am. I also bought new kitchen knives, it's hard to keep this reckless middle age streak at bay.

Romancing - The Beautiful Son has a girlfriend, Facebook told me. I told you. His sisters can't wait to meet her and get their revenge on him. Hot Boy is partcularly looking forward to wandering around in his pants and sitting on his bed talking loads and putting paid to any snogging that may be going on. He's waited quite a long time for that. I met her, she's beautiful and he was touchingly worried that I would like her. I do, she's not quite as mad as the rest of us, but we can work on that.

Romancing part 2 - Eldest Beautiful Daughter and Hot Boy still joined at the hip (steady now) and he adores her and it's so lovely to see. She had 2 years of on off with the Matthew. And that wasn't always fun for those that had to live with her.

Romancing part 3 - Beautiful Baby Daughter's friends seem to be getting interested in boys. She's not. She's slightly out of step with her friends. This isn't always fun for those of us who have to live with her. I am playing a lot of board games with her. I hate board games.

Romancing part 4 - oh come on, there's only me left, even Mystic Meg's given up on me.

Tuesday, 13 July 2010

Once upon a time

A long time ago, in a town far away a young girl prepared for her Prince. She dressed in the finest white lace, a tiara in her hair, silk shoes and stockings on her feet and was driven to meet him in a vintage Rolls Royce. After being showered with rose petals and oohed and aahed over, she walked to the end of the aisle with her father at her side to where her Prince stood. She looked up at him, with tears on her cheeks and surrounded by family and friends she made a solemn oath in front of God to always love him.

Yesterday what remained of that young girl dressed head to toe in black walked down an alleyway with the jakeys and junkies and the great unwashed to the courthouse. She avoided beer cans and rubbish, went through a scanner, was searched and had her perfume removed. She went into a dingy room and waited on hard plastic municipal chairs. And then completely alone, she faced an anonymous court employee through a window, like she was buying stamps at the Post Office. She held a bible in her hand and swore an oath on it that the affidavit she'd brought was the truth. What remained of the young girl cried as the affidavit was stamped and filed to allow the decree nisi to be applied for and the fairy tale to be brought legally to an end.

She emerged into the pissing rain and went to the train station where her fairy godmother of a friend was there to love her. She spent the day warmed by the kind fairy godmother and her hatbox of special goodies and treats bought to cheer. Touched to her very core by the thoughtfulness and blessed that she has love.

And that she won't be alone because she has family and friends who love her.

Sunday, 11 July 2010

You know you're getting old when...

You get to have breakfast at the weekend with your daughter. She is returning home after a night out and you're just getting up at 6 like you always do.

Weekend mornings become very peaceful, there is no rush to swimming/ballet/drama/rugby/horse riding. You are the only person awake till at least mid day.

Your son counts the beer bottle tops in his pocket when you ask him how much he'd had to drink. The vomit on his t shirt and in his hair kind of gave me a clue is was more than his allotted 3 shandies.

Everyone stares at you as you walk down the street, well at your very beautiful daughter beside you. You are now invisible.

You cry at the end of Toy Story 3, I won't spoil it as I know I've seen it early but it is particularly poignant for Mummies with teenagers.

Your child has a boyfriend with a mortgage, a car and a career and pension plan.

Friday, 9 July 2010

I'm so proud

I know I'm getting on and I know I'm turning into a middle aged woman but feckity feckity feck, teenagers are getting dafter the older I get. A few years ago I did a post on the stupid stuff they said HERE I am extremely sorry to say that there appears not to be any improvement.

My eldest beautiful daughter is not really that stupid but appears to have no general knowledge to speak of.

This last week she has astounded me by not knowing who Eva Braun was, thinking you could put parmesan on a pudenda is and the piece de resistance...

Telling me Copenhagen was in Yorkshire.

I was slightly ripping her to Hot Boy when I realised that he had no idea either. He thought Copenhagen was in Canada.

And his education cost his parents a quarter of a million pounds, I'd be looking for some kind of refund.

Tuesday, 6 July 2010

Boyfriend of the year award...

You would think that being surrounded by girls that The Beautiful Son would have a head start, not to mention having a mush junkie for a mother. I always thought that my son could be trained to be the perfect man, stop laughing right now, I can put you on the naughty step...

Last week it was the new girlfriend's birthday, they'd arranged to go into town, see a film and then go and eat afterwards, there was a group of them going. Just as well.

The Beautiful Son came home from school and feeling a bit tired, decided to have an afternoon nap, so got into bed and set his alarm. This was at 3.15 pm. At 7.45pm he was awakened by his Dad, who'd just got home from work, enquiring as to whether the cinema trip had been cancelled.

The bold boy had slept through his alarm, 8 missed calls and a gazillion text messages.

And she still didn't dump him, apparently she found it quite funny that her boyfriend slept through her birthday. How very understanding of her. Maybe he has other redeeming qualities that I, as a mere Mummy, can't see.

Thursday, 1 July 2010

My little cyber shelf of nice things

Despite being hugely crap at passing on awards, tags and meme's I am lucky enough to get them. I really do appreciate them but my huge "I'm not worthy" complex seems to make it difficult for me to display them, so they go on my little cybershelf of nice things.

Pathetic creature that I am, I'm scared I'd hurt someones feelings if I didn't tag or award them, so please consider that any award/tag/meme that's around on my blog as yours if you'd like them. What's mine is yours, with the exception of fruit and nut toblerones and David Tennant, obviously.

The very lovely Ayak who writes about her life in Turkey, my second home, send me this. I am slightly scared that the only thing that is heartfelt is the need for the fruit and nut toblerones and the David. Note to self, be less shallow.

Then my little cup of cyber joy continues to overflow when the very lovely Mrs Boo, who delights me with her witty and stylish proper writing send me this, again not really deserved as I think I should get a medal for getting 3 posts a week out, quite often herself will do that in a day, I am an absolute slacker compared to her.

and the very lovely Becky, another proper writer who puts me to shame gave me this.

I have to give you some honest facts, I feel almost certain I cannot have anything left at all that you don't know, I give you way too much honest stuff, remember the one about the grey hair, oh dearie me.

Hot Boy and I are going to get a tattoo together, this is completely his idea, I'm not sure if we are doing feet or arse, no difference at all. Yes, I agree it's slightly weird to go get a tattoo with your daughter's boyfriend.

I have a very Scottish surname, I get really pissed off when people don't spell it correctly. It starts MacK and goes on. After having a child at that school for 8 feckin years, I returned Beautiful Baby Daughters report card with the correct spelling of her name in red pen, I actually wanted to write it on the teacher's forehead. I hate saying M a c capital K, but I do, over and over again.

I hate my legs, with a passion, I hardly ever wear skirts.

I am scared to do twitter

I am thinking of organising a big bloggy meet up, I've been lucky enough to meet some of you already and Libby, you will never get rid of me now, we are friends forever, no back backers. If I do, will you all come?

I am officially the worst singer in the world, bar none.

I get mildly stressy until I've reached my destination, I worry about missing planes.

Despite the blogging, I am extremely private and even secretive by nature, it's the anonymity thing that makes it easy to put my stuff out there.

I worry about my future, quite a lot, I earn a pittance and my stay at home fit my life round the kids life didn't set me up well for a healthy financial future post divorce.

Despite all the low level worries and crap life throws at me, I'd still rather have my life than anyone elses and I am supremely and utterly grateful for my life because I have it and I'm living it. Remind me of that if I start to bump my gums too much.

I'll probably be packing up to get home by the time you read this, so wish me a lovely last few days and I'll give you some gratuitous holiday porn when I get back.