Patiently Waiting

I knew I wanted to write today, but now I’ve opened the page to let the words escape my overflowing mind, they seem to have vanished, so I’ll just write about what is happening at this exact moment in my life.

3,500 miles away my husband and three children, plus sister and her fiancé (because they live with us), are moving home. This past week my husband has spent packing boxes in between standby shifts and being called into work with the minimum of notice. He also had our daughter’s birthday sleepover to co-ordinate on Thursday, which he intended to be around for, but work called him in. He’s a pilot. This is part of our everyday day life that’s we have to work around. Usually there is two of us, but this week he has had to manage alone. I say ‘alone’ – what I mean is, without me. We have a live-in maid who cleans the villa and looks after our children while we both work full-time jobs. It’s really not as extravagant as it sounds – aside from having the house cleaned, it really is no different to having to pay for (very expensive), childcare in the country we used to live in…except the care isn’t as good, and I get help with the housework. So, yeah…the long and the short of it is, I’m not at home.

I’m in England. I’m in the South of England, and to be even more precise, it’s known as the Garden of England. I’m sat in a green, leaf patterned electric recliner chair, next to a hospital bed. I’m not in a hospital, but in a hospice – a hospice provides specialist palliative care for patients. I’ve been here for the last 5 days, coming back and forth the hospice, back to the same room.

My mum is the youngest of 10 children; 7 brothers; 2 sisters. 2 of her brothers have already left this world, one to a brain haemorrhage when he was 35, and the other committed suicide. With such a big family we have lots of things that can, and do, go wrong, and boy, does the shit hit the fan in this family.

It never rains, it always pours.

Our family has suffered a huge amount of sadness and turmoil over the years. Loss of life (haven’t we all experienced that at some stage), accidents – terrible, life altering accidents, sexual abuse and relationship breakdowns. Yep, never rains in our family, it always pours.

1999 saw the end of the life of a very dear lady, close to my heart. Christmas Eve saw my nan taking her final breath after a relatively short battle with cancer. I say short, we don’t know how long she had cancer for. Once we found out though, we had 3 months and she was gone. Her demise was quick, and I’m glad she didn’t have to suffer long. She had bone cancer that spread to her brain. Sometimes I’m sorry she never got to meet my children, but I’m a believer that she can see us and she knows them…she knew them before I did. They were born after she passed.

Fast forward to today. I’m sat int he same hospice as my nan passed away in, except I’m now sat next to my aunty, and yes, she also has bone cancer. Originally she has breast cancer that was misdiagnosed. After a mastectomy, it was simply just too late to catch the rest and here we are today. She’s laid in bed after I don’t know how long of fighting, still holding on, when really it’s time to leave this world behind.

Over the last 5 days I’ve watched her become more tired, more confused and more out of it. She’s gone from just being able to feed herself to needing help, and to speaking to nan.

It’s almost time, we all know that. It’s just when, and until when arrives we have to wait, patiently…


Another CBA Day

I started out my day today with ‘Sail’ by AWOLNATION gently waking me up. At 5.30am. As if Sail can gently wake anyone up. Listen to it if you get the chance. It was one of the songs we picked for our wedding video. Strange choice but it worked out very well.

Sail is a bloody good song. I love the dark beat. I love any dark beat actually. I can get lost in it especially if its loud. Moreover, I love music, of most sorts, though I’m not a fan of grunge or electronica. One of my favourite songs is ‘I Believe in a Thing Called Love’ by The Darkness. Lots of people think they’re shit, but I don’t and neither do millions of their fans. I think they’re cool and when I played table football with Justin Hawkins (yeah! That’s right! I’ve met him…face to face…tête-à-tête! I know, I know, that means head to head – French was never my forte *snigger*) he said I ‘have a nice rack’. He said other stuff too, but him telling me I have nice tits, despite them being covered up by a rather modest black top (a maternity top in fact, now I recall it) stands out quite nicely in my mind. I’ll accept any compliment, me. So, yeah, IBIATCL – one of my faves. I also played air guitar to it, on my knees, on my wedding day, in my wedding dress. There is video evidence. Of this, I am proud. When I am 80? Not so much.

5.30am. I hit snooze.

5.39am. I hit snooze again. Why Apple sets their alarms for 9 minute intervals I do not know.

5:45am. I got up because I couldn’t be arsed to wait.

Yup. CBA day again. Great. Felt irritated.

Showered, dressed, brushed teeth, dragged brush through hair, blow-dried hair, spritzed perfume (very nice perfume, so nice I can’t remember it’s name) over self and went downstairs leaving lazy husband in bed to sleep, and/or get up when he felt like it.


Further irritated me.

What irritated me even more was that he lets me sleep in some days, more than I let him anyway, and I felt bad for feeling irritated that he wasn’t getting up. *sigh* It is his day off. Its only fair I do the school run.

I’m downstairs. Kids Children, all three of them, have had breakfast, two of them are ready for school, one hasn’t yet reached school age yet. Two older ones need to clean their teeth. The eldest is on his iPod Touch. The middle child needs her hair sorting out – she’s always a sodding mess. Our maid has sorted out their lunches for them, but I need to check that she has put the right things in – I never can be too sure that they aren’t going to get something weird like a butternut squash, or frozen corn on the cob, you know, not the usual sandwich or wrap for lunch. Training, I need to do more training.

We need to leave the villa at 6.40am to make sure we get through to morning traffic. At 6.30, daddy comes downstairs. Its a nice surprise…for the children. I’m non-plussed. I thought he was staying in bed after all.

Kids in car, we leave the youngest behind with the maid.

Dammit, I said kids. Nevermind I’ll have to succumb to it. Its quicker and easier/

7am – children (ah-ha!) delivered to relevant classrooms. Not that they’re classrooms really. Their school is an old compound. It was never meant to be a school. Their classrooms are old villas that people used to live in. The air-con regularly breaks down, the water stops running properly…I could go on. But guess what? CBA. I will one day, when I’m out of this mood, this all consuming, ice like grip.

We get home eventually, at around 7.30am and I collapse onto the sofa, exhausted already.

I know what some of my problem is. I don’t eat properly. I never have and am unlikely to ever get into the habit of eating three wholesome, healthy meals a day. I rarely eat breakfast, though I make sure the kids do. If I do eat lunch, its not much. Dinner, sometimes I eat LOADS, sometimes not much at all. I’m just not all that interested, though when I do eat I really enjoy what I’m eating. I’m not anorexic, bullemic, or have any other kind of problem with food. It does make me weak though, and tiredness isn’t helped by a lack of energy, isn’t helped by a lack of food.

I rest my head on my husband’s lap for half an hour before dragging my sorry ass back upstairs to do my make-up so I can go to work. Make-up done, my husband takes me to work. I can drive, but he needs to car to pick up the kids at 1.30pm. We start talking about stuff; his career and where its going mainly. When I say ‘we’ talk, mainly I listen. I’m in no mood to talk. He notices. He’s been noticing I’m quiet a lot of the time. He’s been noticing I’m not ‘me’ just recently. Best friends notice this stuff. I know he is worried. He continues talking about his altered plans for his career path and it just makes me cry. I feel so guilty and this is why.

In August I left a bloody good job, a highly paid job, because I could not cope with the office politics anymore. I was already on a downward spiral at the time, not that I spoke to anyone about it, but I organised a new job and decided to do that instead. So, I still work, just not earning the kind of money I did then. I now earn two thirds less than what I did in August. I’m not talking a couple of hundred dollars less…I’m talking a couple of thousand dollars less. The day before I left the job, my Boss asked me to go back – I said I’d consider it, which I did. I sent an email to him, said I’d go back. Then the email reply came – budget cuts meant there was no longer any space for me. Fine – no problem. My original decision was correct. I didn’t have a problem with that. But I cannot bear the guilt of knowing that our financial situation could be so much different had I have stayed where I was. My husband was now making career path changes which reflected our financial situation and boy, do I feel bad about it. I couldn’t stop the tears, but I also couldn’t tell him why.

It’s not just the money. I can’t put my finger on why I feel so sad recently. There’s a lot more to it though and I think, over time, it will start to come out.

Lord knows it needs to, because I can’t hold onto it like this for much longer.

Pleased to Meet Your Acquaintance…

If you have read my ‘About Mrs ASU page’, you’ll have seen I consider myself to be lucky. Happy, healthy family and all that. If you haven’t taken the time to read the page, I can’t be arsed to write about it all again.

Let me see. It’s Saturday, 14th September, 2013.

All over the world it’s the weekend. A day off for some, not so for others. For me, it is.

I’ve built a ‘camp’ in our lounge for our children out of the chairs from the dining table, some bed sheets and blankets and shoved a load of toys inside the den its become. I was thoughtful and created this hideout in front of the television so it could be a cinema too. Gives me some peace at least. I am knackered. Our youngest son isn’t sleeping well because his sleeping pattern was totally destroyed by the well meaning maid we employ (not as posh as it sounds by the way) so it means I’m up and down at night, plus up early in the morning doing the school run, getting myself to work on time, and the usual stuff life brings to you…you know, I can’t really be arsed to go through it all. It’s can’t be arsed day today.

I’m a Libran. Actually, technically I’m a Libran and a Scorpio – I’m on a cusp. If you’re into astrology and star signs, you’ll know what that means – basically I was born on the day where people can’t decide one way or the other whether I am a Libran or Scorpio. Funnily enough, I display traits of both signs. I do like astrology and star signs. I don’t read my horoscopes, but I do like to have readings by mediums (clairvoyants) every now and then, and would love to have the time to meditate and get involved in guided meditation. Ain’t ever gon’ ‘appen!

Anyway, there is a point to why I’m saying this! Librans love balance and harmony in their lives, and of me this is true. Right now, I don’t have balance and harmony – not even a teeny, tiny bit. Properly exhausted, properly done in and right at the point where I need to get it all out of my head…but not actually talk about it with anyone. I know people who read blogs and interact with them will identify with this. Anyway, here’s a few of the Libran/Scorpio traits – the highlighted red ones are the traits which are very definitely not me!


Social, fair-minded, cooperative, diplomatic, gracious.

Indecisive, will carry a grudge, avoids confrontations, self pitying

Charismatic marks:
Attractive, graceful, medium build, no sharp features.

Harmony, sharing with others, gentleness, the outdoors

Injustice, violence, conformity, and loudmouths.

Best environment:
Any place that is beautiful where the company is harmonious. Very social and happiest doing things in the company of another.


Passionate, stubborn, resourceful, brave, a true friend.

Jealous, distrusting, secretive, violent, caustic – has to be said that the only way I am secretive is with my feelings, hence the need for this blog

Charismatic marks:
An intense look in the eyes, muscular

Truth, facts, being right, teasing, longtime friends, a grand passion, a worthy adversary.

Dishonesty, passive people, revealing secrets

Best environment:
Dark, sensuous places, any situation that offers power or rouses strong feelings.

I’m a definite mixture of the two. I like a balance in my life. I like things to be fair and just. I will speak my mind and have a very definite sting in my tail, but I’m not a jealous person at all. I enjoy the beautiful things in life, I’m not talking materialistic, but wonderful things to look at, the sound of happy children laughing, and yeah, ok, diamonds are kinda nice too, but fundamentally it’s the non- material things that are most important and that I have in abundance.

So why am I so glum? Why am I so down in the dumps about my ‘lot’ as it were? I’m certainly not ungrateful and know I’m damned lucky to have a happy, healthy family and a husband who doesn’t dick around (or maybe he does – some people never find out about second lives).

Maybe it’s not my lot I’m down in the dumps about.

Maybe I’m just sad.

I’m Mrs All Screwed Up and I’m very pleased to meet you.