Belfast

Tomorrow I will get up at stupid o'clock and fly with Robbinbastards air (apologies to Grandma in Cyprus and anyone else's mother or to Shirley's daughter's who may be offended by the language)

This will all be worth it as your auntie is off on a wee jolliday to Belfast. I am STREEMLY CITED about this as whilst I am there, I will go and see The Mighty Killers once again. You bet your sweet ass, I will stand up and dance !

Didn't I always tell you I'm a lucky, lucky girl ?

Room 101 - the updated 2009 version

One of my very first posts was about my room 101. 2 years on I actually feel the same, glad to know my irrational prejudices are still simmering away, it's a comforting thought that some things remain the same in an ever changing world. This was my 2007 Room 101

Clarks Shoe Shop

Anything from the week before to the day before a new term starts, these shops are transformed into the 7th circle of hell. You arrive and take a ticket and wait for your number to be called, this can take anything up to an hour. Meanwhile the place is full of pissed off parents and bored, fidgety and sometimes screaming children. Eventually your turn comes and your child is taken to the machine to have their feet measured. When the assistant asks your child which shoes they would like you resist the urge to throw back your head and cackle like a maniac, as you know from bitter experience that at best they will only have 1 pair of shoes in the whole feckin shop which will fit your child's feet. Sod's law dictates that your child will hate the only shoes they have and will strunt, strop and sometimes cry, you will feel like doing likewise. Because I am an unorganised Mummy I have left it to the day before term starts and know that my child will have to have these shoes as bare feet at the start of term will involve social services, so cajole and bribe child to accept their fate. Repeat this experience for each child you possess (3 in my case) and the highlight of the day will be when you get to hand over usually over £100 in my case but still feel like a cheapskate when you don't buy the polish, protector and fur lined box to store them in. I get to do this 4 times per year, this is why it is no 1

Swimming Lessons

The years of my life I have wasted sitting at the side of an overchlorinated overheated pool whilst waiting for 1 of my offspring to reach level bloody 12. You also have the delights of chit chatting to another Mummy waiting for her child and the only thing you will have in common will be your child's ability or lack of in the swimming department. Other mummies are often weird.You can substitute any kind of lesson for this , I have done several over the years, ballet, tap, football, rugby, gymnastics, athletics, rainbows, brownies, beavers and cubs to name but a few. My child's interest in new activities/clubs etc is directly proportionate to how long I take to buy all the kit and write the cheque for the term of lessons. As soon as that is done so is their interest, mine are ferocious joiners but have no staying power.

People who attempt to mimic my accent

I have been blessed and was born Scottish, I love the accent. I hate hate hate when people who on hearing me speak for the first time feel compelled to say something like och aye the noo or some other such drivel. This makes me want to physically hurt them and after living in England for 7 years I am now incredibly bored with this and I will retaliate, you have been warned.

Guardian readers

Never ever met 1 I liked. Especially ones with non useful degrees and who always eat organic food. Enough said

2009 update

Clarks shoe shops don't hold the same terror factor as my nearly 17 year old doesn't wear school shoes anymore, my 13 year old son still does but only gets slip ons as he's too feckin lazy to tie his laces but the real kicker is trying to persuade my 12 year old that she still has to have proper school shoes, she no likey, she likey stupid shoes fron New Look and other gawd awful shops. BBD is the child that is most difficult to persuade into anything but time is passing, in a few years she will leave middle school and there is no dress code at our high school, just the rest of year 7 and years 8 and 9 to go then that's only 10 more visits to Clarks and I can retire as a mummy shoe shopper.
Surely the Queen will be giving me a medal for efforts in making sure my offspring had the correct width and length fitting shoes at considerable expense from 1993? That will be an 18 year child shoe shopping career, think of the Manolo's and Choo's I could have had, do my children care about my sacrifice ? not a jot ! Ungrateful lot of weans with perfectly formed feet that they are.

My swimming lesson days are over, Glory be to God in the Highest, BBD reached level bloody 12 and I'm done now. In the 2 years since I wrote this, BBD has taken up and stopped cornet lessons and is currently thinking of quitting drama. EBD has given up drama but she better start it back again if she's thinking about a drama degree they might want to see a bit more than AS/A level Theatre Studies as the sum total of her commitment. TBS is still with rugby and electric guitar lessons so maybe my son can see something through to the end.

I still get annoyed by people who try to do a Scottish accent. Add to that the person (you know who you are and you should hang your head in shame) who takes great pleasure in calling any Scottish person who achieves anything as British but if they do anything bad they call them Scottish, Andy Murray is always British when he wins.

Guardian readers, yep they still annoy me but I have added to that Daily Mail readers, they epitomise to me all that's wrong with this country.

Would you like a new one ?

Airlines that charge you £20 for paying for your flights (debit or credit card, Ryanair, you are a bunch of robbing B****rds, it's not like you have a nice wee branch in my local high street where I can pop in and pay cash or an address where I can send a cheque to. And you have to get up at crack of sparrows to get your flight at stupid o clock too.

Okay, I'm done now ranty auntie has left the building !

The Boy is Back

The Beautiful Son has returned from his snowboarding trip in Switzerland with his full complement of limbs and all intact ! I have missed him muchly, this has been a week where I could have done with his hugs, he does the lie down beside you, not speaking, but immensly empathetic thing perfectly.

We were chatting about his trip and then he got very animated and said excitedly "We boarded into France" I said that sounded great and he told me about boading right down to the restaurant for lunch. He then got very excited and told me " I had the best sandwich I have ever tasted, a toasted cheese and ham panini"

I did nearly wet myself laughing when he added "I took a picture of it on my phone"

So to my lovely friend, you know who you are, who said the reason my son hadn't rung all week was because he was too busy shagging a chalet maid (apologies again to Grandma in Cyprus for the language) Na na na na na

He still remains very much a small boy, shagging a chalet maid, would you give yourself peace !

Valentine Schmalentine part deux

In my last post, I was setting out my stall as to what I wanted for Valentine's Day. I had no conception that this Valentine malarkey should be a 2 way street. Oh no, your auntie was thinking how very what splendid it would be if SHE got what she wanted, no thought whatsoever that I would actually have to do anything my own self.

So, in my comments, I had lots of lovely sweet wishes from my bloggy loved ones, a special mention to TF who offered to change sex for me, now that's what I call friendship ! some great offers and some sage advice from Soxy, you can read the comments here

So I drag MY sorry ass into town and into the card shop. As I'm there I realise I haven't sent a Valentine's card in over 20 years, I think I was 20 the last time. Well, dear readers, I was horrified, they were all really bleurggh, I, of course have no clue what I actually want because I don't buy them I've never looked at them.

Some I could discount right off the bat, the ones that say to my husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, love of my life, the one I love, someone very special etc etc etc.

Then I discounted the cute ones with teddy bears and fluffy bunnies etc, after barfing of course, I am just so not a teddy bear kinda gal.

I have to discount all the flowery ones, not partial to that.

Then I have to discount the ones that say " I want to shag you senseless" I feel a little decorum is called for.

That leaves me with the funny ones, except they weren't.

I ask the Thorntons lady if she would ice " Fecking Romantic Gesture" on a chocolate heart and she looked at me like I'd kicked a puppy and told me off for my language, suitably chastened, I left shamefacedly.

So I try another card shop and lastly a 3rd and I still couldn't find a card that I would be happy to send or to receive myself, for the love of God, why can't I find a simple, stylish, tasteful card ?

Now I realise why men don't make a fuss over Valentine's Day, it's just fecking hard work, I was an hour, a whole hour trying to get a card, do you know what else I could have been doing in that hour ?

However, I have put the work in and I feel sure that come Saturday, I shall be rewarded most handsomely for all my efforts.

Incidentally should anyone want to take me anywhere on Saturday, I have THE sexiest new little black dress and killer heels...

Valentine Schmalentine

Apologies up front and in advance, you are about to witness a middle aged woman have a whine, I won't go as far as to have a full blown temper tantrum but I'm definitely going to have a wee strunt to myself. If you are of a sensitive disposition, you may wish to exit gracefully and return another day, I will not be offended in the slightest, I'm your auntie, I'll always love you.

Okay, here it comes

I am 42 years old, you probably knew that, I make a point of telling people, it helps me realise that I am meant to be a grown up, a grown up who accepts the little curve balls that life throws at her middle aged self from time to time. More difficult for me to accept, however, is that I am not Carrie from Sex and The City, all right she's skinnier and has better shoes in a more glamorous location but there have been things I have truly empathised with. I bawled like a middle aged baby at this, my favourite episode, "La Douleur Exquise" series 2




Anyway, it's February, me no likey February, me especially no likey Valentines Day and there's no feckin escaping it, it is EVERYWHERE.

Here is the big fat whiney moan coming, in my whole fortyfeckintwo years I have received a grand total of 4 Valentines cards and that, frankly, is piss poor in a woman my age, there are 5 year olds that have had more than me and truth be told, in the last 2 years both my Dad and my sister have increased my market share by 50%, how patronised am I ?

Before I retired as a wife, I didn't give a curdy about Valentine's Day, it obviously happened every year and I'm sure I was aware of it but it didn't figure for me, I could have had red roses and diamond rings and anything I asked for, did I want it ? That would be a no.

But now I'm not married ? now I don't have someone legally bound to make my every wish come true? I want a lovely card, I want to be taken out to some overpriced with crap food "cos we can because we know we'll be full as you are all big suckers" restaurant, I want a big feck off romantic gesture. Sorry I have to rephrase that, I want a big FUCK off romantic gesture.

Contrary and shallow ? those would be my middle names.

Sorry, it did venture a wee bitty in to tantrum mode and apologies for the use of the hard F word, especially to NB's mother, it was for emphasis.

But I still want it, show me the mush.

Life's little Ironies

My county is covered in snow. My school closed yesterday due to snow for only the second time in it's 600 year history. Everywhere is white, in parts it is at least a foot deep. I don't really like snow, I like the look of it, when I'm inside and I'm warm and dry but I don't like the inconvenience of it.

The Beautiful Children are enjoying this weather muchly, killjoy that I am, am not. My house is awash with damp smelly socks, damp smelly clothes and full of damp weans draped over radiators demanding cups of hot chocolate.

But the real kicker ? I have forked out over £600 for The Beautiful Son to go snowboarding in Switzerland tomorrow. I could have pushed him down the A6 and saved myself a fortune.

auntiegwen loves you

I know I'm crap at awards, people are incredibly kind at giving me them and I never reciprocate. That's bad, I'm usually better at giving than receiving.

So here it is, chock full of love from your auntie, this award is for anyone who pops in to visit their auntie, has been kind enough to comment and for the lovelies listed who have adorned their auntie with bling, in no particular order
Lisa, Tom Foolery, Mean Mom, Mom or Mum wars, Mobs, A Confused Take That Fan, DJ Kirby, Working Mum, That Girl and if I've left anyone out, I apologize and I know some of you are multiple givers.

If you don't have an award, please let mine be the first. I absolutely love being part of the community of bloggers, I now know people from all over the world and have insights into all kinds of things that would have passed me by. There have been striking similarities in lives lived an ocean apart and I love hearing how others are getting through theirs. I have made friends who can pick up nuances from what I write and will take time out of their life to email and offer support, so take a bow Lisa, Shirley, Sue, Penelope, you have dried some virtual tears and send lots of cyber hugs.

I always think I have an overwhelmingly female readership and I always applaud the power of female friendship but in the last wee while I have had some men who pop in from time to time, I also have some male bloggers I speak to off blog, I know, I can't believe it either, they're rubbish at discussing lip gloss though. So I want you to know I appreciate you visiting such a pink blog.

So again, I thank you for putting up with me bumping my gums about my weans, my complete inability to be a grown up and how if I were in charge of the world it would be a much better place.

Most of all thank you for giving me a voice.

The Restlessness of a Middle Aged Woman

Do you ever feel that other people know the rules of the game but you don't ? Or that everyone else is dancing and you don't know the steps ? Or remember when you were a child and you watch other children play and you are longing be part of the fun but are too shy to ask to join in ?

I am extremely restless and bored at the moment, I feel that the world is passing me by and I'm just a spectator on life not an actual participant. I am enabling other people to have a fulfilled life but don't feel that my life is all it could be.

I know that I am the only person who can do anything about this but this is the first time I am not being apologetic about doing something that will make me happier. I'm putting my cards on the table and I am going to regain control of my life.

So I am going to make some changes, the "I'd like to run away from my life" can't happen because I have others who rely on me, but my arse would just be a blur if it wasn't for that so I've started with my hair, sad but true women do do drastic things with their appearance when they are feverish for change.

My job is next and then I am going for my "no regrets" personal happiness manifesto.

The Mystery of Facebook

Now, your auntie has been very scathing about facebook. I've been asked several times if I have one and I have replied in a very derisory tone "No, because I am a grown up" Hardly a shining example of the genre but my birth certificate tells me I am, so who am I to disagree ?

So, never having succumbed to the fascination of facebook I was a tad surprised and even bemused when I received an email informing me that a Mr Unknown Male had added me as a friend on facebook and I had to click on the link to confirm this request. So being a biddable sort, I duly clicked on the link and was asked for my email address, which I gave and then my email password which I gave and lo and behold there was a facebook account belonging to me. Apparently I joined in October 2008, but on that day, nay at that very time I joined I was having the joy of a delayed flight and was stopping World War 3 breaking out between the weans in Dalaman airport.

Curious ? so was I. There was no photo of me but it had my correct date of birth and my real name, the one that's in my passport. I know this will surprise you but I will fess up to you now, dear readers, auntiegwen is not my actual name ! I've done it now, it's like the tooth fairy and Santa Claus disappointments all over again. I am sorry but there are some people in the world who don't call me auntiegwen.

Now this, unknown to me man, was very kind to say that he enjoyed my blog in his wee message, which confuses me even further because at no point in the last 2 years have I ever mentioned my real name. I have very few people who read my blog that know me in real life and so know my other name and this very kind man who has good taste in blogs is not someone I know.

Now, nice kind man, if I do know you, I apologize profusely for not remembering you, my caveats are I am middle aged, I have 3 kids, 3 different jobs and a total of 96 students, I have 2 parenting groups with a total of 43 mums and 46 babies to remember the names of and most days I can't find my keys. Memory is not a major skill.

So please explain to me before my head bursts with my overwhelming "need to know" ness

How did I get a facebook account in the first place when I didn't sign up ? Answers on a postcard please.

How did the nice unknown man know my real name if he only knows me from the blog ?

So please, nice man who wants to be my facebook friend be kind enough to email me @ auntiegwen@yahoo.co.uk and put me out of my misery of mental musing and meandering.

I am very grateful you brought this to my attention, can you imagine my embarassment if people were searching for me and found out I had no friends ? auntiegwennie no mates.

Tag, I'm it

I have been tagged by That Girl for a photo tag

The rules:
Go to the 4th folder in your computer where you store your pictures
Pick the 4th picture in that folder
Explain the picture
Tag 4 people to do the same

Okay, so here is my photo. It's an apartment block in Paris that I found very beautiful and would have loved to live there. It was taken from Les Invalides in October 2007. Paris is a city I love and I should make an effort to spend more time there. Note to self, travel more.



So mes amies, see what I did there ? Clever eh ? not just a middle aged face.

I tag

Tom Foolery because she is very nifty with a camera.

Indigo Alison as her photography is always beautiful and thought provoking, visiting her blog is a real visual treat.

A woman of no importance as dear Fhina also illustrates her blog with fantastic imagery.

So because I am so subversive I am only going to tag 3 bloggers and they can choose to do the original 444 tag or go with my 333.

Rebel is my middle name.

PostSecret

In November 2004 a clinical psychologist and gallery owner called Frank Warren printed 3,000 postcards and asked people to write a secret they had never told anyone on the card and mail it to him. The postcards were used as an exhibition, his interest was in the healing and psychological aspects of art.

The project just grew and grew and became a blog and a book. My EBD was given the book as a gift and I've just finished reading it. Some of the secrets are funny, some raunchy, some downright strange but the ones that caught me were the poignantly sad ones.

I am an extremely good keeper of secrets, both other peoples and my own, always have been and probably always will be. I will be posting my own secret but from the book the ones that touched a chord in me seem all to be about love and loneliness

I will never stop loving her.

If I had a million dollars I would give it all away for one more day with her like it used to be in the beginning.

Braille : God is the only one who loves me, no one else on earth does.

What hurts more than losing you is knowing you're not fighting to keep me.

If you want to see the blog then go to PostSecret

The Great Black Hope

I've been a bit tearful over the last few days. I've been reading "The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd, it's set in the 1960's in the deep south of America. It's a very poignant read and is filled with elegantly effortless prose. It makes me despair that I sully blogland with my crap.

It's very thought provoking especially around this time and I keep bursting into tears. I was trying to explain why to EBD as my children get overly anxious when I'm upset. I was trying to articulate how we shouldn't forget, just because America has come a long way, from Obama's fathers experiences to him becoming the first black president. I feel it's really important to remember how people have struggled and suffered and what a soul destroying insidious poison prejudice is.

I'm a white and Scottish and I cried at his speech, God only knows how I would feel if I was a black American. I encouraged her to watch it with me again on youtube. I was attempting to articulate my thought processes to EBD and as usual she brings me down to earth by laughing at me, I gently remind her that we all turn into our mothers and her parting shot...

" Christ, what a thing to look forward to, being forty odd in a fleece and crying at youtube"

When I grow up I want to be...

Sharleen Spiteri.

She's got the best voice in the world bar none. This song makes me cry, it just touches something deep within me.



She'll take no messin from anyone, I like that.



And she is the sexiest woman alive, OMG, I fancy her myself esp in her Elvis gear. She's been on my CSL for years.

Yep, I want to be Sharleen Spiteri.

Who do you want to be ?

My Faults

In no particular order...

I am incredibly impatient, just put me in a Post Office Queue to see the dark side of me. Or a supermarket queue or at an airport check in desk, you get the picture. I want instant gratification.

I want my own way all the time. This is compounded and exacerbated by my feeling that I am always right about everything. I have been so angry and pissed off at work recently because I feel I am right on a point of principle and the others don't care as much as me. I am as cross as a bag of cats that I am not getting my own way over this.

I can keep grudges for a very long time and I will cut you out of my life without a backward glance, if you do something that upsets me. I removed my aunt in 1995 because I was pissed off at her wailing and weeping at my Gran's funeral( she did nothing to help my mother in the 10 years she had been caring for Gran when she developed Alzheimers) I actually made her cry after telling her a few home truths. I did the same to my ex friend Jenny also in 1995 when I found out she'd read my medical notes, she was nearly BBD's godmother and I told her off and never spoke to her again. I stopped speaking to Pam in 2006 when she rang my friend Susan asking for info about Gordon and I splitting up. Last year I gave up my friend Jo as I felt her behaviour was outrageous in the extreme. This is not a nice aspect of my personality, I don't do forgiveness easily or well. Judgemental is now appearing to be my default state.

Criticize my children unfairly at your peril. I will verbally annihilate you, no one has the right to do that, except me, not even their other parent, I feel when you give birth to them, it is the top trump, every time. If you teach them, you must be prepared to say good things to criticism on a 2-1 ratio, even then I will smile at you while seething inside and burning holes in my stomach lining, then you will receive crap presents at the end of term. You have been warned.

I need to be loved, I am a sad article, I know, I crave love, my name is auntiegwen and I am a big fat love junkie.

Psychologically incontinent in the extreme, I am always looking for hidden meanings, chance remarks have my guts churning for days, I will always look at what hasn't been said, send me a link for a song you like and I'll be in knots wondering what you're really trying to tell me, I drive myself insane with this.

Passive aggressive, I used to be a Pollyanna but now I've upgraded... to a Martyr Complex.

I like to know where I stand, I need to know how people feel about me. I don't like mystery and I can't bear mind games "treat em mean keep em keen" type stuff. I am fundamentally unsuited to dating and all the thrill of the chase stuff, will he call me again, will I see him type stuff, it just makes me anxious, bollocks to that.

I am very bad at sharing my really deep innermost feelings. I have reams and reams of written stuff that I do when I need to clarify things. I never show it to the people concerned, I'm probably too afraid of their reaction if I was as honest as I wanted to be.

I talk way too much, all the feckin time, no matter what I'm doing, there's nothing I feel won't be enhanced by a bit conversation, and I mean absolutely nothing. Other people, I've found feel differently about this. In bed I have been shushed most vociferously and told that the only thing required from me at that point was to "writhe and moan"
So I did.
At least I learn quickly.

Conversations with my ex

Background info

I spent 2 decades of my life with the man with the world's worst memory. He had no recall of places we'd been, films we saw or people we met. The only things I'm sure he'll remember with relative clarity of his time with me would be the time when I wore the white dress, veil and tiara and the occassions where he accompanied me to the big building where the people in white coats and stethescopes removed small people from me. I'm certain he would know it was me he did those things with, I'm not saying he'd remember all of it but the edited highlights, sure.


Conversation

ag - so you'll pick the kids up at 4.30pm as I have to get to Leicester for 7.15pm

ex - what are you going to see again ? I know you told me ?

ag - it's the Leicester Comedy Festival preview show at De Montford hall

ex - oh have they got a comedy festival ? I love live comedy

ag - thinks yep, I know you do, you've been to that preview show before at least twice, but says nothing

ex - we went to see Frankie Boyle in Nottingham

ag - immediately thinks the "we" referred to is him and his girlfriend and then thinks jealous thoughts , because "we" being me and my ( I have to find a name I'm comfortable with for him) tried to get tickets and couldn't

ag - oh was he good ?

ex - I think so, can't really remember, did you enjoy it ?

ag - I haven't seen him live

ex - yes you have, we saw him in the same hall we saw Texas in

ag - that wasn't me

ex - it was so, we saw him about 3 years ago in Nottingham

ag - no, we didn't, we did see Jimmy Carr in the Leicester Comedy Festival preview show about 5 years ago though


This is the man who walked up to a girl in a bar in Aberdeen and said " I promise I'm not trying to chat you up or anything , but I know I know you but I just can't think from where"
she replied " I'm your cousin Marian, you last saw me at Granny's funeral "


I fitted him with a homing device to keep him coming back to me for those 20 years, I suppose the battery just wore out.

Meet auntiegwen - The End ( I promise !)

She is a complex woman.

Let’s just leave it there shall we ?

OK, I’ll expand.

A true Scot and a child of the 1980s. Has civic pride in Glasgow alongside a secret love/hate relationship with England . Adores her 3 children more than they know. Regrets her marriage breakdown but now accepts it and begins to see the positives. Determined, tough when it comes to some things, fragile when it comes to others. Has an almost only-childlike need to be liked and surrounds herself with friends and bloggers. Can be pushed a long way but then puts her foot down. Likes order and structure in her life but is mature and sensible enough to ease up on it as her children get older and her life goes in different directions with more personal choice and different people. Sees the good (and beauty) in everyone and everything, even when sometimes it isn’t there. Wishes the world was a better place.

Loves music, alcohol, humour, intelligence, travel and…whisper it….sex ! Has a bit of a guilt trip with the latter. Wishes she had had a few more boyfriends before “settling down”. Wants to love and be loved and, despite some hurtful experiences, has never given up on that ideal. Her new life has been evolving for a while now and she likes it a lot but still has a long list of ambitions. Almost a second-time-around teenager at heart full of sneaky smokes, drinking, late nights, loud music and ‘nothing is going to hold me back’ thinking. Learns very quickly, not afraid to admit mistakes. Struggles for time but seems to cope incredibly well and has tremendous energy. Knows how to dress to impress and is very canny when it comes to attracting the opposite sex. At times can be ‘holier than thou’. Pretends this isn’t the case. But very intelligent and very witty. Wears heart on sleeve. Passionate about the value of education and works hard to instill this in the children she teaches.

So let’s weigh the pros and cons, shall we ?

Many pros and few cons. A genuinely warm, loyal and painfully honest person who gives more than she takes. Has had to learn quickly how to be an ex-wife and is beginning to reinvent herself as the woman she really wants to be.

Meet auntiegwen part 1

This is what my children and the matey boys (who live here part time) think of me. Next time you'll get what himself thinks of me.

Aunty Gwen is the most lovely lady you could ever meet.. She is quite short, very funny and very beautiful :). Despite the lack of actual blood relation, she is like a mother to all of us, always willing to help us out of the usual messes we end up in. She is a wonderful cook (despite the lack of meat) and she is always happy to put up with a house full of large, loud and frequently messy boys, and we all love her very much for it. Aunty Gwen is as of yet to lose the Scottish accent she has brought down to our lovely (and regularly mocked) country, making conversations a welcome break from the norm (though her intriguing sense of humour may add to that :)) We all love her very much and hope she never changes!!!

The matey boys xxx

Marmee, angus, miss Marmee, charkin,silly woman these are a few of many of the names I call my wonderfull charkin. She always is confused but I am going to put her in a nursing home in a few years , she thinks im mentally unstable, sexy and georgus.
She always makes me laugh she thinks that she loves us all the same (but of course she is confused!!! So she loves me the most and she tries to cook but oven chips are good for me. She likes her blog a lot and your are lucky because in a way she kin da loves you guys aswell =)! Love you Marmee, angus, miss Marmee, charkin,silly woman

Jack The beautiful and most loved son.

My mother is probably the best mother you could wish for. She isn’t the greatest cook and she is getting old, but we still love her. Watching her type actually hurts me inside, it is that painfully slow. Me and mother often take small trips to new shopping places, we usually get lost on the way at least once, we then start shopping logically, stop for a starbucks break, continue shopping until we both reach the can’t-be-arsedness stage when we have dinner and return home. I think I’m lucky to have a mummy that looks after me, puts up with me, pays for things, plays my silly games, puts up with my nonsense and loves me no matter what. Mother is always right when it comes to knowing what I should do and she does love to do the ‘I told you so’ dance’, she can’t make decisions and doesn’t like to park unless it’s a well placed ‘mummy space’, usually in the car park of marks and spencers. I do love my mum :)
The eldest and most loved daughter x

I love my mummy so much she is the nicest person I have ever met, she has loved and cared for me for 12 whole years! She is ancient, 42 to be precise.

My mummy is lovely however she is very strict on pets. I have wanted many pets over the years but have never been allowed one, I have to stop sucking my thumb :( .I think my mummy is the prettiest 42 year old on the planet and should win an award for it. Mummy has never been violent to us but has thrown a barbie doll at ebd when she was six.

Written by bbd the prettiest daughter
Published by Mummy

Meet The Weans...part trois

Beautiful baby Daughter

My wee sweetie scone was 12 in October, starsign Libra but really and truly should be a fiery Scorpio, she was early, as all my children were, thoughtful of them, mind you they've never been early for anything since. All of them should have been a different starsign, EBD def is an Aries and TBS is so much more like a Cancerian.

Is very artistic and creative, has always drawn, collaged, painted and created things, no idea where that came from but she has always loved that kind of thing. She also loves Brain Training and Sudoko. Loves Trampolining too, she is always doing something.

Is the most generous and caring wee thing, she sent me a text message at work the other day saying text me when you're 5 minutes away, so I did and when I got home I found she's got a fleecy throw for the sofa and made me a huge mug of coffee and toasted me a cinnamon and raisin bagel as she knew it was a day I didn't get a lunchbreak. How kind and thoughtful is she ?

She is the fussiest eater in the world, and would live on Heinz tomato soup and chips and chocolate if you'd let her. When she goes to friends houses I am told she will eat anything, isn't that annoying when that happens ? Annoying being the polite term for it. Loves hot chocolate but no whipped cream. Is turning into a shopper extrordinaire like her sister. Is a bit addicted to Build a Bear. Claire's accessories is a big fave too. If she has money, she has to spend it.

Usually comes as a package deal, either you get her and a friend, quite often Emily or Isobel and Joanna, or she's at their house, it's pretty good as they are all fab wee girls, I hope their mothers don't mind. These friends in particular are so easy to have around, it's really like they're part of the family, the house can be messy and you don't need to do anything to entertain them, they just toddle along and fit in, mind you, their Mothers are pretty awesome women who are good friends of mine too, I couldn't have got through the last few years without Susan and Christina, the tears of mine they've dried .

Is the only child of mine who can get up in the mornings, I'm not saying she's good but she can actually get out of bed. She has a lovely collection of fleecy pyjamas and the moment I wake her up and snuggle and cuddle her in her bed is my favourite moment of the day, it's just like having her as a baby again, she still looks really young when she's asleep. Still continues to suck her thumb despite all bribes (including a pet) if she gives up, she has her thumb in pretty much at all times, only takes it out to talk and eat.

Will never admit she is wrong and will have an answer for everything hence her nickname of Little Miss Last Word, also is known as Pussy Cat and Tootsie MacFluff, she could debate for Scotland and talks non stop. Can never let anything go, keeps persisting, it can be extremely tiring. She thinks she will make me change my mind by keeping talking till my ears bleed, she is wrong, she has tried for a decade to get a pet, she loves all animals, we remain pet free, when Mummy says no, she means no, yes I know I can be a remarkably mean Mummy. BBD is still trying to change my mind, I have a sneaky suspicion she will still be asking me when she's 25. She really thinks she is the Mummy in the house, she has very firm and strict views on things.

Works incredibly hard at school, is ferociously bright, far too clever for us. Loves to help me with work, especially making me powerpoint presentations. Before Christmas made a fantastic gapped handout on cells for my year 10's ! Will almost certainly become a teacher, before becoming a headmistress and then will become Prime Minister. She will achieve anything she sets her mind to, has a tremendous force of will and did not inherit the can't be arsedness gene I have passed on to Eldest Beautiful Daughter and The Beautiful Son.

Loves music and dancing, will perform as many shows as you will watch in a day, gave up ballet which made me sad, she was very good and all right she looked very beautiful in a tutu, EBD also gave up, she was desperate, no co ordination whatsoever but did look nice, see decorative not functional. BBD also has a lovely singing voice, another thing she didn't inherit from her mother. Has a different taste in music than us likes Girls Aloud and Take That, but likes The Killers too.

Is also very like me in temperament and also in looks. She is not as dark as EBD and I but if I posted photos of me, EBD and BBD as small girls it is uncanny. She showed her dad a photo of her sister when she was 2 pretending it was her and he didn't notice. Has the most glorious glorious hair and hates it, in the summer it gets the most fantastic titian highlights and all she wants to do is cut it off, it gets very tuggy and she hates that. It really is her crowning glory and photos never do the colour justice but she doesn't like it.

So my little baby, growing up and needing me less in some ways but more in others. She is enthusiastic and really throws herself into things. Is very sensitive and takes things far too much to heart. Where would I be without her ? she completes our family just perfectly and she is loved. Much loved and I hope she always has her tremendous zest for life and that heart of hers which is huge and open to all.

Meet The Weans... part deux

The Beautiful Son

A gentle and thoughtful wee soul but with a modicum of mayhem inside. Will be 14 in June. Remains the child that seems to need me the most. Will always elect to sit beside me and be physically attached to me in some way, very easy and cute when he was a toddler but much more tricky now he is bigger than me. When we walk together he always puts his arm around my shoulders like his dad used to.

Worries about the state of the world, my self absorbed daughters wouldn't have a baldy about what's going on in Gaza, but it's fretting him, especially when it involves children or mummies, his worst fear is not having me, he is and always has been a big mammy's boy. Also has a really strong set of morals and social justice, he has empathy in abundance, I am extremely proud of his humanity.

Loves his rugby, supports Scotland of course, likes Gloucester ( because of Chris Patterson) and also likes Leicester Tigers. Plays for a club and school team, position is usually flanker and very patiently explains every kick or touch of the ball to me when we watch together, never gets irritated by me getting my knock on's in the wrong place, I like to join in, you see.

Plays the electric guitar really well and has a fantastic singing voice but would never get up and perform. Also loves music, stuff like Linkin Park, Foo Fighters and no big surprise The Killers. Has real problems at parties, is actually quite shy and hates going to large gatherings where he doesn't know people. Copes fantastically well at home, come visit us and he'll be grand, not so good out of his own comfortable environment.

For all his fantastic qualities, he is quite horrible to his younger sister, winds her up no end, he is 16 months older and they used to be so incredibly close, they did everything together then he went to middle school and it stopped, she has never quite recovered from that. It is a source of ongoing low level worry and annoyance to me.

Is a complete work shy article, will do the bare minimum and has even created a file which he updates every time he makes me a cup of coffee, so he can produce it in evidence when we complain about his lazy ass. And we do complain, a lot, poor boy, can't be easy living in the House of Oestrogen and Pre Menstrual Tension.

Very popular with his peers and with the young ladies, doesn't seem too interested in that direction at the moment. Wanders around the house saying (in a very exaggerated Scottish accent) " I'm so gorgeous and so sexy" we let him be, it's good to have a dream.

Has a tremendous sense of humour, it's a bit school boyish, no surprise there, but is good at funny accents, impersonations etc. Has a brilliant laugh too, all my kids have, it's really infectious. Spends a lot of time on Youtube looking at funny videos, also spends a lot of time on his Xbox 360 or his PSP.

Can eat his own body weight daily, takes the all you can eat buffet stuff as a personal challenge, is very interested in food and enjoys cooking, not with me obviously but with his dad or with other non failed grown ups. Has coffee with milk and 2 sugars, and is a committed carnivore, loves a bacon butty with ketchup. Will happily drink any alcohol you're daft enough to give him.

Sleeps a lot, not good in the mornings ( familial trait, that) Has to be called at least 6 times to get up for school. Still has the teddy bears from his infancy on his bed, also has my teddy from when I was a baby there, doesn't bother him at all, none of his mates even comment, they've been there since the day we moved into this house 9 years ago.

Still classes me as his favourite person in the world and I feel very proud to have such a beautiful son. The person he chooses to share his life with will be incredibly lucky and I look forward to seeing the man he will become.

Meet The Weans

Just in case you're new here, I thought I would start off the New Year introducing you to the cast of players who make up auntiegwens house of fun. I'm going to get someone to do mine so you get a truthful account.

Eldest beautiful Daughter

A gorgeous mixture of part adult part baby, she'll be 17 in March, her mental age is somewhere around 4, I'll spring for driving lessons when she's managed to walk around Topshop without skipping, clapping her hands and making oooh noises when she sees something she likes. Commonly known as decorative not functional.

Is brighter than most people believe, is often described as "ditsy" but can occasionally engage brain.

Has a crew of matey boys who adore her beyond reason, will have mad mental crushes on people for about 2 weeks, they will fall madly in love with her, about 17 minutes after that happens she is bored to death of them. She has actually stopped dating people now as she has bored herself with this behaviour. She has willpower. Tremendous willpower.

Is overly fond of the "would you still love me if I was..." game, recently included fat, a nun, a frog, a vampire and lastly had a face like a hippo.

Has no real clue what she wants to be, thought about doing a drama degree at Glasgow Royal College of Music and Drama (at no point did I complain or even raise eyebrow at the thought of me shelling out £18,000 for her to be the corpse in Taggart) then thought of doing a degree in Psychiatric Nursing (again, I didn't even question her on the problem of her being mistaken for the patient) I would lay money on it that she'll end up a teacher. She has about a year to decide, oh feck now I'm scared.

Sleeps a lot, usually at the wrong time of day, truly is not a morning person, see the top photo, sleeps in boys boxer shorts from Topman and a very ancient old Billy Connolly T shirt that I used to sleep in ! Is a veggie like me, no meat, fish, eggs or poultry, would happily live on tinned spaghetti hoops and tinned sweetcorn and drinks builders tea with 2 sugars. Will appear drunk if given a family size bag of Skittles and can only have about 2 alcoholic drinks before falling over. 2 weeks ago woke me up by loudly bouncing off the walls and saying " Shush, shush, you'll wake Mummy" I went out to see who she'd brought home and found she was shushing herself, out of her head on 2 alcopops and stone mad to boot.

Has a very bad shoe habit, streemly fond of Mary Janes, esp double strapped, but has a problem with toe cleavage, she cannot bear her feet and will always cover them up, will make everyone in the house cover their feet and God help them if the accidently touch her with their feet, it is a very bad thing to do. Holidays are a nightmare, esp on the beach !

Is currently obsessed with Twilight, books and film. Loves her laptop more than most people love their children, has her mobile phone spot welded to her and spends a disproportionate ammount of time on Myspace but is less keen on facebook. Loves music and going to gigs, has fairly eclectic taste, has seen My Chemical Romance, Lost Prophets, The Killers and Bloc Party, Glasvegas and White Lies. Music has to be very loud. She has 2 ipod nano's and 1 is supposed to live in the kitchen in a dock thingy, it is never there, why does she need 2 ??????

Is spookily and scarily like me, in looks, in temperament, in mannerisms, in sayings. She is taller, slimmer and has significantly less grey hair and wrinkles but she is truly her Mother's daughter.

Has been since the day she was born a beautiful child, this is hard to believe when you see the truly appalingly messy room her vision of lovliness emerges from, she is great fun and I am extremely grateful she still is happy to spend time with me, go away for weekends with me, and most importantly talk to me, I hope that never changes.

Failed or Refused Grown Up ?

I am truly a responsible person. I parent my children, go to work, pay my credit card bill IN FULL every month, shop, cook (ok, heat up), do laundry, clean and run a house that sometimes resembles a 6th form college or on a bad day, a zoo and stand back in amazement, I even did my tax return IN OCTOBER (more capitals for emphasis)

My disclaimer, dear readers if you will.

However...

There are some aspects of my life that differ distinctly from my beautiful friends. I am seriously blessed with my friends, and I love them, there is not one of them I wouldn't give a kidney to, I have a lovely collection and they are all quite different but they are all grown ups. I have been where they are now, with my fitted kitchen with Nigella books and Cath Kidston tea towels. I have baked cakes and made kitchen curtains and I have spent hours making things out of old tissue boxes with the children. I have attended school concerts, dance recitals, rugby matches, prize givings, etc etc etc but I never did join the PTA. I always helped out at fetes, sold the raffle tickets, went to the pop quizzes and wine tastings but never became a card carrying member, it always just seemed too far from the punk I used to be.

I have realised that I will never be a domestic goddess and I'm good with that, I seem to equate that side of life with when I was married and the children were small and that has gone and I'm not sad about it. I'm not saying you can't be a mummy/domestic goddess/fab fun sex kitten all at the same time, just that my brain doesn't allow me to be.

On Christmas Day, my dear dear friend Sixy, her bidey in and their baby came to visit me and as she is a domestic goddess, herself had made me a bottle of mulled wine. So she's being very Nigella like ( except she's blond, same mane of tumbling curls but blond) in my kitchen whilst being watched by my children, entranced by the sight of a Mummy stirring serenely at the stove as opposed to me attacking the kitchen at a million miles an hour, throwing stuff on baking trays whilst yelling at them to clear the kitchen table of the debris of their day and simultaneously texting, marking and helping Mel with her man problems.

We watched this lovely sight for a while then Sixy asks me for a sieve, now I know I used to have 1 in my other life but I am completely at a loss as to where it can be, so we look for a bit and the Eldest Beautiful Daughter says tenderly " Poor Mummy, you're a failed grown up" which makes us all laugh. Then a suggestion is made that we use a pair of tights, I don't fancy this much as my hold ups cost me £8.25 per pair, I'm not using them to strain wine, do you think they are appreciated £8.25 worth ? I wonder. There is a lot of hilarity about my not being a proper grown up and I make myself feel better by realising I would rather be a champagne drinking, gig going, sneaky smoking, hold up wearing me than a me with a sieve.

Happy Hogmanay

For the last few years I have been unhappy on Hogmanay.
In 2005 I was very unhappy in my marriage and it ended in 2006.
In 2006 it was the first Hogmanay since 1985 I was without Gordon, although he did spend it at my house but again, painful for both of us.
Last year in 2007 I woke up knowing I was in a relationship that was making me profoundly unhappy and I was getting ready to take my children away for New Year with my ex boyfriend Ken, his children and his sister and her friends. That was a horrible time for me and mine, 2 out of my 3 children didn't prefer him but I felt responsible to try and make it work as I had brought him into my children's lives and I never wanted to introduce them to a succession of new partners. I stopped seeing him just after New Year to my immediate nearest and dearests great relief.

Last weekend Ken's children came to stay with me, his ex wife and I liased over this, I liked her immensely, I was incredibly fond of his children and they have kept in touch with myself and my children. I didn't realise how much they missed me, it was so good to see them again. After hours of chat with his ex wife I realised that I never really knew him at all, the lies he told us both, he gave me what I wanted to hear, mush a plenty, he found my weak spot and emotionally shape shifted to be what I wanted. His ex wife couldn't recognise the man I was dating and I realise now what a mutually delusional 6 months we had, I've had a lucky escape.

Someone who knows me too well remarked last month that he thought I didn't really love Ken at all, he's read every word on this blog and knows me well enough to comment. It was a bit of a double edged sword for him to read and I think he found it difficult in the beginning to read all I blogged about my past.
I never write any of the mushy stuff about him, not because it's not there and definitely not because he's less important, I think I've kept it more to myself because it was so out there last time and because this man is private and I never want him to feel that I've said something that he is uncomfortable with. It can't be easy knowing that potentially everything could be offered up for blog mates scrutiny.

So this morning, Hogmanay 2008, I woke up completely at peace with my life, having had another one of my perfect nights with everything I wanted. I wish all of you, dear readers, to have that feeling too this 2009.

And I wish us more of us.

Romantasyland

Once upon a time in the far away kingdom of Romantasyland lived a maiden, okay, a maiden who was old enough to know better.

She thought she had met and married her Prince, sadly he turned out to be a toad but undeterred our heroine kept kissing frogs, waiting for her Prince, she never gave up on the idea of romance.

Enter our dashing hero, 6 foot 1 of pure muscle, fair of hair (plenty of it too, the maiden was impressed, she's used to short, middle aged bald men) and blue of eye, the maiden was a bit bowled over.

Like all good fairytales the path of true love never runs smoothly, the maiden had a nasty habit of demanding mush and romance and wanting to talk about their relationship and the dashing hero was after all, a bloke, and a Northern bloke at that.

The maiden remarked to the dashing hero that most couples have a honeymoon period where there is an abundance of romance and mush before reality sets in but that they had seemed to go straight to the reality stage.

Our dashing hero agreed that indeed their relationship had always been real and stated in what he may have thought to be a concillatory fashion "There's more than one way to skin a cat"

Quite.

How the hell did I do that ?

I was in the middle of changing the bed when I got a text. I love getting texted, really and truly, I am like a teenager with texts. The text was from my good friend Sixy saying, see my blog. So I log on and read how her beloved bidey in had proposed in his sleep, and she wonders if he can legally be held to this if he was asleep.

Incidentally, I was bumping my gums a few weeks ago about throwing away a marriage proposal and I didn't give my other lovely proposal a mention, if you read this (and I'm fairly sure you will) I still have your text from 22nd June saying "but I'm driving and can't type! oh sod it, will u marry me ?" Who says romance is dead, eh ?, no kiss either, never mind your soft and tender x at the end, no feckin x at all at the end, my boy !

Anyway, while I get distracted with all this nonsense I manage to lose one of my pillows, I always have 4, now I can only find 3, how the hell did I manage to do that? So my bed looks lopsided now. Sometimes my life is weird.

Being a Teenager again

My mammy is visiting me at the moment so that has meant a total reversal to my teenage state, she is feeding me, tidying up after me and generally minding me.

I think I took it too far when I arrived home from my big night out much later than I said I'd be. I drove up the driveway with the cd and headlights turned off. Creeping in quietly so as not to wake her, yes I know I'm 42 and it's my house but old habits die hard.

But even if she had grounded me it would have so been worth it because it was such a special night out, one of my very, very best.