Typecast

"Wings" First of all, one of my earliest childhood memories where I first experienced "sisterly love" was when my sister was admitted into hospital with severe gastroenteritis in 1977.  She was two years old and I would have been five years old.  I can remember my parents being frantic with worry, my grandparents looking after me for a few days and that I wasn't allowed to see my sister as she was on an isolation ward.  I have a vivid memory of going to visit but only being allowed to stand outside on the gravel path and wave at her through a window.  I can remember being totally distraught about her not being at home and wondering if I was ever going to be able to give her a hug again.  Upon her return home a week later, she sung only one song and was word perfect because it had been played constantly on the hospital radio (see below).  I remember wishing her back into the hospital quite soon after because she was getting on my nerves!! "...

ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Order) has been a big part of our family life for almost 11 years and I was prompted to comment on a blog post from Vicki at I Love My Mad Life when she mentioned she was going to watch a television programme that considered Ritalin as a possible control measure for ADHD.  Following on from this, we have exchanged a couple of emails about young children being diagnosed with ADHD and I've written a similar post about my experiences here today.   I don't know of what "help" this can be to my readers because we tend to muddle along in our own little way, whether that's right or "acceptable"  or what.  It's our life and we'll do what suits us.  I hate the fact that I sometimes feel as though I've got to "excuse" Jake's behaviour but, mainly, people are understanding. Jake's sleep pattern was a little strange from being born, so we knew that something wasn't quite right.  If he'd...

I suppose this blog post is an extension of my Twitter "Follow Friday" recommendations.  It's important (to me) that I write this post as I have decided that this year is going to be the year of changes for me.  I intend to really knuckle down with the studying for my degree with the Open University and I'm going to try and write a lot more - and that includes promoting myself a bit. Social Networking ( which I've written about before ) - mainly Twitter - is the ideal platform for this because it allows you to show off your talents to a wider audience, most of whom you probably wouldn't meet in your every day life.  It also allows your Twitter followers to pass on any writing links that you tweet - therefore extending your audience even further. Anyway, enough beating around the bush.  In the past six months, I've been lucky to connect with a number of fabulous people via the "follow friday" hastag ( #ff or #followfriday ) on Twitter.  T...

Yesterday I was in a bit of a rush - you know those mornings where you get up at the usual time but nothing seems to go to plan?  Well, on Tuesday morning, that was me and I had to forego my usual morning brew. I flew downstairs and started making son #2's lunch.  I stared bleary-eyed into the cupboard and the fridge, realised I had not a thing to fill a sandwiches with so it would have to be that good old safety net - JAM BUTTIES.  I threw together a jam sandwich, wrapped it up in greaseproof paper, put into his lunch box with a cake bar, piece of fruit and some juice, hurled it at him and hurried him out of the door. Wednesday morning arrives (this morning) and I open the fridge again to search for inspiration.  A voice behind me says, "Mum, you know that jam you used yesterday?  Well, it was quite nice but please can I not have it again?  What is it?  It tasted unusual." I opened the pantry cupboard and, yes, you've guessed it... I'd made a ...

I've started to notice that the amount of "newsletters" that appear in my email account has increased somewhat over the past few months - mainly because, when I visit a website, I feel obliged to sign up to their newsletter, especially if I've read something interesting on the website or they've I'm promised a "special offer". The problem is that once I've digested that piece of information or bagged myself a bargain, I forget that I subscribed to their newsletter until they drop into my inbox full of their useless information.  This is not "junk mail" though because, at some point, I chose to receive these emails. So, tonight I made it my mission to unsubscribe from a few of these mailing lists.  However, these websites must love me because they really don't want me to leave... I scroll down the "newsletter", past all the flashing images inviting me to enter their monthly competition, past the 'latest information...

So, here's how it works: 1. Open your music library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc) 2. Put it on shuffle 3. Press play 4. For every question, type the song that's playing 5. When you go to a new question, press the next button 6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...just type it! Copy & Paste the list below and leave your answers as a comment on this blog post. IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE? a compilation cd of some kind... --------- Opening Credits: Waking Up: First Day At School: Falling In Love: Losing Virginity: Fight Song: Breaking Up: Prom: Life: Mental Breakdown: Driving: Flashback: Getting Back Together: Wedding: Birth of Child: Final Battle: Death Scene: Funeral Song: credits: Here's mine..... Opening Credits: Something Inside So Strong - Marcia Griffiths Waking Up: You Spin Me Round - Dead Or Alive First Day At School: Goody Two Shoes - Adam And The Ants *snigger...

First of all, let me tell you how EXCITED I am to be tagged in this Shiny Happy People Meme.  It's my first tag EVER and now I'm very nervous as to what to choose because there have been so many good Shiny Happy People meme's before this one. For my readers who don't know what a "meme" is, I'll try to explain.  Well, Wikipedia explains that it is pronounced " / mi:m/ " (to rhyme with 'cream' - although this is wildly disputed in Blogland, isn't it Paula?!) and it's like a game of "Tig".  Someone posts a short blog and chooses a subject.  They then "tag" (or name) five other people to post their own short blog post within the theme. So, onto the meme in question.   Paula at "Battling On..." tagged me for this one.  It was originally started by Rosie Scribble and the rules are: 1.  Name a song that makes you happy - a song you would listen to if you needed a sudden injection of happiness; 2.  Po...

Child #3 has always been a little bit more "advanced" than the other two, purely because of his inquisitive nature, but also because of what he half-hears through not concentrating very much and his ADHD. He also has a special bond with his father because Kev has been the at-home parent for the majority of Jake's life and I think that Kev now appreciates how bloody hard it is to raise children and all the hard work I put in with the older two. Anyway, they are as bad as each other for taking things at face value, as I attempt to prove here: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From Jake's Literacy book, read on Parent's Evening: Henry VIII has six wives but only wanted a son so he had six problems. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After hearing a news item about AIDS he asked the obvious question and his dad did a fairly good job of explaining, in age appropriate language. that AIDS is a blood-related illness and that it's us...

For the sake of argument, lets call my right foot/shoe "FLIP" and my left foot/shoe "FLOP". During the summer I bought a new pair of flip-flop type sandals for work.  I ended up not wearing them for work because of their "fault" and now use them in the house.  The right one will "FLIP" but the left one will not "FLOP".  This doesn't happen with any other slip-on shoes I have (so it's not the shape/flatness of my feet). I like the FLIP-FLOP sound that flip-flops make but I don't like FLIP- silence -FLIP- silence -FLIP..... it doesn't sound right. So.... what do I do? Make the sound myself like a ventriloquist or just ignore it and hope that no-one else notices?

You know that programme that used to be on BBC2, " Can't Cook, Won't Cook "?  I'm sure that was named with me in mind. My mother was seriously hampered by her asthmatic condition but always wanted to fulfil her role of "homemaker" to the max by doing as much as she could, then asking for help.  Suffice to say, my sister and I did the "heavy jobs" (the hoovering, the dusting, cleaning the inside of the car) to earn our pocket money and mum carried on doing what she was good at. When I left home, in a blaze of glory, at the age of 18, I didn't know I couldn't cook until it came to actually feeding myself and not actually buying the food from a take-away or having it placed in front of me ready plated.  On the other hand, my boyfriend (now my long-suffering husband) was a dab hand in the kitchen.  He and his brother used to come home from school and start preparing the evening meal for when their parents came home from work. The d...

I hung my work overall up, closed the locker door, clicked the padlock shut and walked though the empty, dimly lit shop with the manager, mentally visualising the brown wage packet that was in my handbag.  The Saturday job didn't pay much but at least I could afford a trip to the cinema with friends that evening.  Once outside, I bid the manager goodbye and, as I strode off across the square, I glanced over my shoulder to see him pocket the bunch of keys and turn towards the car park.   At the bus stop I checked the timetable and saw that I had about seven minutes before the next bus to my village.  I pulled my mobile phone from my handbag but remembered that I hadn't topped up the credit yet.  I ran across the road and entered the phone box.  I dialled a number from memory and spoke to my friend, arranging to meet her in an hour's time. I replaced the receiver on the hook in the phone box, pushed the door open and then.... nothing. a strange noise...

I recently read a poem by fellow blogger and friend, Rachel and, whilst I recognised quality writing, I have to admit that I've never understood the concept of poetry.  This is probably because my only experience of poetry is the very basic 8/6/8/6 rhyming poetry that we read and learnt by repetition at school and I found that quite boring.  And it is. Rachel has a different style of writing poetry - it's very short piece of  intense writing and it's not really the staccato way in which she writes that draws you in but the subject matter and her descriptive tone in just a few lines of words. The only thing I have to compare this to is motorbikes.  An unusual analogy, you might think, but let me explain... My whole family is motorbike-mad: my dad, my sister, my husband and my children.  I, on the other hand, have never ridden a motorbike in my life (apart from riding pillion).  Because I have never ridden one, I do not know how to control it. ...

Jake has never been an average child - he never slept for a start.  I spent the first two years of his life, in the small hours normally put aside for owls and late-night clubbers, alternating between my own bed and the settee with my eyes on matchsticks and Disney films on a loop.  I was once very proud of the fact that I could quote Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs verbatim however that particular talent doesn't appear on my C.V. these days.  He was diagnosed with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) at the age of four.   Having older siblings - a sister (8 years older) and a brother (6 years older) - meant that he was always trying to be like them - he followed them as far as he could but I always tried to define the boundaries so that the older children got some time on their own with their peers.  Even to this day, he always tries to "hang" with his brother's friends because they are so much older (15 and 16) and cooler.  I've tried to exp...

Most women (and some men) use a handbag of some description - it's a handy receptacle to carry a whole load of junk around; junk that you might just need one day.   I recently tipped my handbag out and found the following: My Filofax (how retro), OU study book, OU assignment book, study note-book, a sheaf of papers that I deemed "important" at some point but have currently no relevance to my life, a copy of the electric bill (why?  I have no idea - I pay by direct debit), an apple, office keys, car keys, house keys, 2 open packets of Polo's, a blister pack of headache tablets, a pair of sunglasses (!), 2 plasters, comb, mirror, lip plumper, lipstick, lip gloss, aloe vera lip salve (but also good for cuts, burns, etc), highlighter pen (in green), a fountain pen, a tiny figure of an angel that was a present from a close friend, pair of gloves, a crystal (that is supposed to warn off drunkness!!!), my purse (which also houses a whole load more crap) and my mobile ...

How long should it take before you automatically write the new year at the end of a date?  We're two weeks into the new year, I have to write the date a number of times a day almost every single day of the week and still I'm writing '09 or 2009. I had the same problem when I got married (all those many years ago).  I'd practised my new signature over and over again, making sure that there wasn't too much of a "flourish", yet on the first occasion I had to sign something I signed it with my maiden name. Is this a mental block?  Are you having the same problem?  I think it's going to be another week or so before it finally sinks in. Photo from "Optical Illusion" on Flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/optical_illusion/4219923214/  

Whilst walking back from the local deli at lunch time I spotted a lone magpie.  I furtively looked around to make sure no-one was watching me, I saluted the magpie and muttered under my breath "Good afternoon Mr Magpie".  No sooner had the words left my lips when another magpie flew into view and I heaved a sigh of relief... one for sorrow, two for joy. It then dawned on me that I must be a bit daft - a sensible, grown woman like me (ok, you can stop laughing now), muttering away to herself, dodging the cracks in the pavement, avoiding walking under ladders, chucking salt over her left shoulder (or should it be the right shoulder?) at every available opportunity and saluting magpies in broad daylight must look a right sight. So why do we do it?  We cross our fingers for good luck and then assume, when the good fortune is bestowed upon us, that it was solely because we crossed our fingers - nothing to do with coincidence at all, is it...?  It's the same as when ...

He's 16, in his final year at high school, is an "average" student and has no future plans for work or college.  He feels that he doesn't excel in anything apart from being utterly brilliant at Call Of Duty (all versions) on the X-Box 360! He's mentioned on a number of occasions that he'd like to join the Armed Forces, currently favouring the Royal Air Force over the Army, but should I be actively encouraging this decision? It was always my dream to join the RAF but a change in life plan meant that I had to forego that dream.  I don't want him to live my dream for me but I think it would be a wonderful chance both for the opportunities and the experiences.  However, we hear, almost on a weekly basis, about the soldiers - young and old - that are killed in action in the warring countries, the ones who did follow their dream.  And some of them are still only teenagers.  Is this what I want for my son?  Of course not!  But, in the same respect,...