Moving at the speed of life

A couple of years ago our nighbour kindly gave us an 8 foot trampoline that their ds had outgrown. The maximum weight is 8 stone, so H has now outgrown it as well, and rather scarily when she bounces, her feet fit the floor, so we had visions of broken ankles. So today managed to pass it on to another 6 year old, and we ordered a lovely new one. They’ve come down in price a huge amount though over the last few years. It’s one of those toys that def justifies it’s garden space.

Today she has a music lesson – I’m bartering lessons in exchange for coaching – and she seemed to do well. She doing keyboard and music theory, neither of which I’m up to teaching her, and she seems to be enjoying it.

Very disappointed that the tent has fallen through. I do wish people would keep their web sites live. Anyway, need to thing about what to do now.

Did some work with my web designer this morning – she is just SO nice compared to the lovees  I deal with at work, and this afternoon, bought a gallon of mozzie repellant and a swimsuit from Bravisimo, that cost – well – what the tent should have cost But it’s very comfy, and I finally have something to contain and restrain my assets.

I should have known a half price tent offer was too good to be true. Just had an email to say they can’t fulfill my order.

The tent shop had a bank holiday special on, so I seem to have accidently purchased that tent. So now I have to go camping

Aitch and I had a major falling out this morning, so Bob has taken her up Ben Lomond for the day. I wasn’t invited in case I pushed them off. It’s like no matter what I do, think or say, it’s the wrong thing. I’m trying to be adult about it, but it is so bloody hurtful when she is mouthing me off the entire time. And THEN smart asses try to tell me it’s because I didn’t get her whipped into shape when she was two. It was all that breastfeeding till she wanted to stop that caused it, apparently. ARGH. Then an hour after she’s told me how horrible I am to her, she’s crying and apologising and telling me she didn’t mean it. Then 30 minutes later she’s doing it again. And yet I compare it to me at 11, given minimal attention  as my parents were too busy caring for a disabled and dying child, and I think that at least H must feel secure enough to be horrible to me, as I was far too conscious that I must never do anything to add to the family stress that I was far too good for my own long term good. Compliance was my middle name.

Ho hum. I have this friend who is considering moving her daughter’s school, (she’s a year older than H), as she doesn’t think she is working hard enough. Argh again. She talks all the time about being worried that she will “waste this opportunity” or “won’t reach her potential”, and I think maybe I’m doing this all wrong. Maybe it’s turning 11 that’s doing it, as 95% of me still believes what we are doing is right, but 5% is completely terrified that she’s turn round in another few years, and say it’s my fault she isn’t doing whatever.

I think the other thing is that she is missing Bob being around so much. I really like him being on days, but he is working stupidly hard. If he get’s home at 9pm, then I still get to spend time with him, but H is usually on the point of going to bed. She she feels she’s losing the benefits of shifts – having him around in the mornings, without the benefits of having him on normal hours. Anyway, they can bond up a bloody mountain today!

Anyway, have actually had a rather pleasant day. Proof read my web site, wrote some articles to feed onto the blog on the site over the first few weeks, went for a long walk, bought suncream for the holiday etc, and that cheered me up.

How did I manage so long? Lovely to come back from work, and find lots of lovely comments (plus one from Chris ) awaiting moderation. I think I’ve set it up so that people are only moderated for their first comment.

Have missed out on several of those tents on eBay as they’ve gone for more than you can buy them for new, if you add the postage in, so thinking about just getting a new one. We’ve got everything else we need in terms of camping gear, so it wouldn’t be hugely expensive. Actually, we also have a very satisfactory canvas bungalow of a frame tent, but I can life neither the frame nor the cotton fly sheet myself, so I need something more manageable. Plus if you all saw my lovely 80s style tent, no one would want to be seen with me. I’m very tempted.

Had to do minor surgery on a GP ear again as they always fight if they go into their play tunnel together. I realised I needed to get out more when I heard myself informing them that if they couldn’t play nicely, I would take it away and neither of them could have it.

Not sure what to do today – need a few bits of shopping for our holiday, but can’t really be arsed going to Glasgow. Back later.

If, hypnothetically, I could get time off work, and if, hypothetically I could face the drive to MP camp, would there, hypothetically still be space (don’t want to book in advance in case it falls through). And if, hypothetically, all these were positive, then would this, hypothetically be suitable for me and Aitch?

…….OK, you can probably guess. Don’t want to moderate myself.

Bob is now truly 50. Slightly embarrassing as I got a last-minute chance to go to Newcastle to do some training, and as I don’t really want to turn down any opportunities at the moment, Bob was left with Aitch. I think they climbed Ben Nevis (didn’t take any pictures), went to Frankie and Benny’s for dinner, and watched trash on the TV.

Aitch and I have been having a bit of a rocky road recently – nothing I seem to do is quite right, and she has taken to swanning through the house leaving chaos in her wake. So I was absolutely determined that we would have a good few days this week, so yesterday we went out for a bike ride. Today, I suspect I have perineal nerve damage, (not perennial nerve damage, as Word kept insisting) but won’t go into that! The problem is that you feel fine while you are doing it, so you don’t appreciate how far you’ve gone, or how unfit you are. Anyway, we cycled about 10 miles and had a picnic lunch, ice creams,  long and unrelated discussions about boys and bullying and then had to cycle home. I also forgot the sun cream. Blush. Well, more sizzle, to be honest, than blush.

Bob was out at some team bonding event in the evening, Aitch (MUST get a better blog name), was at guides, and I lay in a warm bath.

Today, we did about an hour of maths in the morning. I’m still not sure I get probability – and then we played with the rather sweet guinea pigs for a bit. I thought I was going to get away with an afternoon on the PC, but ended up having to submit to nail painting, hair straightening, and being  plastered with makeup.

Accidentally deleted my password for this blog, and the lost password button wasn’t working, but the lovely Mark at wordpress.com has got me back in, so I can sleep easy tonight.

Will have to go to work tomorrow for a couple of days, so keen to get the final proof read of my web site down, so it can go live.  And that’s it

Up to a year ago, blogged (nearly) every day, and then in the local vernacular, I took a right scunner to it, and went cold turkey on the lot, after committing a sort of ritual extermination of Couthie Communications. (Didn’t renew the domain name.) I have to say it was rather liberating when it disappeared from cyberspace, as especially in the last year of it’s existence, it was a record of a person I didn’t even really like any more. (Me obviously, not the re-named child.)

In that last year,  Aitch has become 11 (bit scary), DH is about to turn 50 next week (scarier still), and in three weeks we’ll have been married for 25 years, having tied the knot three months after meeting. (terrifying)

We still home educate, by a process of osmosis, benign neglect, and occasional panics on my part. I still work part time, but to avoid any risk of doing a Dooce, won’t even mention that here. More excitingly, after years of dreaming about it and playing at it, I’ve started my own business, and despite me saying I’d never do it, we have acquired two trans-gendered guinea pigs called Rose and Martha.

And that’s the year in a nutshell