Squeeze Up There Is Room For More, NOT!

Tilly on Her Soap Box About Suffolk Primary Schools

As I was making the pack up this morning I was listening to radio fours ‘Yesterday in parliament’ program, when I did a double take see what you think '80,000 separate plots of public land have been earmarked to build first time buyers houses to kick start the building market?'

So what do you think? I know Bacton middle school has building permission? Is this the real reason they are going to get rid of the three tier system here in Suffolk? Are we going to cram our children in like sardines, taking all their facilities away to get this country out of a banker’s recession or am I the only one that has made this connection?

I had my day planed to the last second as usual but intended to write a blog as soon as I had the time. But dropped everything to write a quick thought down to see what you all made of it.

Now I was in a real flap as I couldn’t find the one piece of paper that I needed the one with the tickets for Angus’s pantomime. We are only allowed three seats each family for grandparents, brothers, sisters etc. so my husband or I will have to forfeit seeing the production. Space you see is at a premium not that you can see the children anyhow as they squeeze them on a small block stage about a meter wide and we sit on small seats and I for one can not see over or around the people who sit in front.

I only got to see a glimpse of Angus last year once and he spent the whole of the performance looking for me. It is a very sad occasion that should be one you treasure and reflectively smile at.

Twenty years ago I lost twins separately at this time of year and as the nativities took place on the morning breakfast shows I longed for that experience. So when after much heartbreak I held my first child in my arms, I looked forward to the nativities at school. But they don’t do Nativities at our school. Everyone works so hard to make the best of it but it hurts when you just cannot see the results. They are going to squeeze more into our little Suffolk primary schools and I’m not sure what will happen then.

It makes me deflated and despondent, why and how can I teach my children values when the Government lie and constantly support those at the top of the pyramid society we have? Us at the bottom are already under a heavy burden from a lucky few whose prosperity is more than self indulgent?

Now off to find blue bird wings for Angus knowing I will probably have to make some, I will put my heart and soul into it and my heart will break because I won’t be able to see him in all his slender.

A very Sad

Tilly on a Chicklit Soap Box

They imply (very brainy people of a certain age and income) that us plebs have boring lives and should try to read something more substantial. This makes me grumpy!!!!! Do not take chicklit from the shelves, do not call it anything else, I need to be able to run in, get my fix and run out again, quick, fast and efficient.  

            I know there is a big bad world out there and I care and some days I go looking for intellectual stimulation (perhaps they should have a shelf for that too) I don’t just read one type of book, who does? But so far this week I have had two friends having a tumour removed from their brains, one from their face, all three I send my love to, with big dollops of hugs and kisses. Two teenage children stressing over the meaning of life and what job they will be doing in a few years time, indeed if there are any they do not want to become a pleb like their mother and for that I do not blame them one jot! My youngest son, who is finding it hard to walk with a large growing marrow between his legs, is very very grouchy and who can blame him. Inland Revenue website keeps crashing as too many people are using it and the bank has charged us for services we don’t use and I can’t get anyone to understand me or me them. My dog has a lump that looks suspicious and is going in for op tomorrow. So don’t try taking my chicklit away from the shelves or belittle the joy it gives!!! I need soft romance to get through my day!!!! I know who I am and what I stand for and I'm proud of it!

            Anyhow no man can give romance like a good hunk in a chicklit book. I have a husband to put up the shelves but that’s all he is good for, alas he is a true Homo erectus which the romantic era passed by. I am a woman, I have my rights!!

So How is the Strike Going? You Might Well Ask!

Problem is I keep forgetting I’m on strike, well as I’ve said before I’m the facilitator! (say ‘the facilitator’ in your best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice it works better) It’s a innate thing, part of me and when it’s not taken advantage of, very enjoyable. But and it’s a big but, people never know what they have until it’s taken from them and they miss it - well that’s the theory I’m working on at the moment - so if I stop doing all those little things for them, they are bound to miss them and they will appreciate them and me a little more. RIGHT?

            Going on strike or working to rule should never be taken on lightly though! Not only is it extremely difficult for mothers to undertake and let’s face it, if I did go on strike, truly, truly on strike the only person that would notice would be me, also it can be depressing as the house spirals out of control.

            When I look around the house in the mornings and see the devastation that family life produces I do wonder how it all happens. The washing basket at last is empty and I rush to go and get a cloth to wipe the bottom and when I get back it’s full again. How does that happen? That fairy is to blame I’m convinced.

            Francis Xavier; it is told, came up with the quote ‘give me a child before seven and I will give you a man’ or something along those lines. I would like to have a few moments to put him right about this one. A man who lived on his own and had never been involved with the workings of a child’s mind and tantrums can theorise all he wants and we would all love to be able to believe in this simplistic view. I know for a fact he's wrong, otherwise I would’ve stopped telling my children to say please and thank you by now; something I've been doing before they could talk so by now, according to his teaching, this should be part of them. I find that they have minds and a debating ability all of their very own and even though it matters how I bring them up this is not by anymeans the only influence that has a profound effect on them, infact surprise surprise they are indervidual people not robots you can pre-program Saint Francis Xavier!! More's the pitty.

            Then there is the Angel-Devil effect. You know when your child is so angelic and you are so full of pride they then throw a mega wobbly out of the blue (reason un-known to them or you) and just as you get your head around this and put strategies to help get through it all, they change back to that Angelic creature of two seconds ago.

            So after the struggle with unruly belongings, washing and children do you really have the energy to say ‘No I can’t do that, I’m on strike remember!! By the time all that has happened I think your doing well to remember who you are.

Just Why Did I Want to be a Mum?

Just why did I want to be a mum?
I can’t quite recall.
Was it the love of sleepless-nights?
No time to one’s self at all,
With a head full of voices
That are not your own.
I thought of the times
Of stories and teddies,
Making tents,
Snuggling up after bath times.
With long walks
While having long convoluted talks.

I dismissed from my mind
The hazard of learning
Repetitive questions
Investigations of what really happened
Or bodily pooing functions
With wee’s and farts
Demonstrations given of their manufactured burps
At the local supermarket,
On pension day!

I thought of marshmallow cheeks
To kiss softly to sleep
Sweet slumber with loving sighs
I didn’t know anything of the nightmare cries
I’m a filing cabinet, that’s all!
A computer, a machine
From the moment I open my eyes it starts
Where did my wallet go?
Open file
Put in information for quarry
Last seen in husband's hand
Who was proceeding towards
The shower-room
Quarry shows possibilities
Left in pocket of trousers on the shower room floor,
In washing basket
Or on top of the loo,
"See!" He shouts
"I told you , you moved it!"

First child down the stairs
"Is it a school day mum?"
"No, but we have to be out by ten"
"Oh no! I hate being out
On Saturdays!"
Second child down the stairs
"How many elephants can you
Get on a pin head?"
"Fifteen I think the man said.
Now remember to write the
Card for the party,
It’s at two thirty"."What are you going to wear?"
"Out, out, let’s go.
See ya love."
"When will you be back, do you know?"
"Why?"
"I need a bit of a hand"
I look straight at him
With an open glare
Perhaps I misheard
For the list of jobs I have to do
Is rather absurd

I can see by his expression I didn’t mishear
But the look I gave was enough
To strike fear
And he'll not ask again.

Alone at last
House all quiet
Even the dog had gone.
A solitary bath
Luxury

Piping hot water
Fragrant and relaxing aromas
That turns the water blue
The bubbles sparkle and shimmer
And hold rainbow colours that dance.
Slipping into the bubbles
That cling like magical oysters
To my relaxing body
Holding a glass of wine to sip
I regain my inner being
My soul comes to life
And for this moment
I become truly me

For ages I dreamily float
On a cloud of bubbled soap
And soak away the trauma
Of trying so hard to be what
Does not come naturally
A good mother.

Many lessons I have to learn
That will last my whole life long
As my Gran once said
"Your father though retired
Is a worry to me
Is he happy?
Is he fed?

A long time a mother, no turning back,
For even when they're not with you
Your heart is not your own".

I’m dry now
House still quiet
Sexy undies
To keep hold of the woman
That is part of me.

Time to pick them up,
Will he remember where they are?
Should I ring?

I miss their loud antics
The dust they make
Sounds of laughter
And in my mind’s eye
I see their smiles
The way they talk,
Hear their questions
The looks they give each other
And the ones they keep
Just for me.

I begin to understand a little
Of what my Gran once said
They will never be
Out of my heart or my head.

My innate sense of time
Rings aloud an alarm
Time they were here at home
Safe, with me!
Phone in my hand
I punch the numbers,
As methodically I go through
All the sensible and horrific Scenarios.

The door bursts open
And life breathes in
The quiet house gone again
As a home kick starts into action
Flowers thrust into my arms
Closely followed by a take-away.
Smiles and love fills
Every space of the quiet house
Making it our home

As my family sit contented
Watching the latest DVD,
Inwardly I bloom.

It’s not quite what I expected
Being a mum.
But sitting on the family sofa
Is a little like
Flying to the moon
In a beautiful sky blue
Jewel incrusted boat.
You just have to learn,
How to
Let it
All
Float!