Child number one gone - apron strings severed,

Well hello again.  I thought I would share my latest parenting milestone. Cutting the old apron strings, a damn sight harder than I expected it to be I have to say.  This episode quite obviously involves my first born and I must warn you that this blog is unlikely to contain a great deal of humour, a bit heart felt and self indulgent I'm afraid.  I have always been very proud of my eldest son (and my youngest son but this is not about you!!! ;-)), he has shown himself to be a very capable individual both intellectually, and physically.  He got himself a part a time job at the tender age of 12 and stuck to it until he was 16 and left home.  Always a very emotional child who seemed to feel things intensely, resulting in a few broken hearts, and a great many lost tempers.  However, his motivation and determination paid off and he realised his dream of joining the British Army just six weeks before his 17th birthday.  Now this is where my story really begins.

He had been accepted for the Army in January and was informed he would start his training in September, there was an outside chance that an opening would come up in March but it was unlikely.  This was all very exciting and I started to prepare myself for my eldest child leaving home, I made holiday plans in my head and imagined making the most o f the summer months that lay ahead before his adventure of the rest of his life began? Imagine my surprise (and horror and sudden fear) when I got a call at work on February afternoon telling me was leaving............in three weeks! Three weeks??? I was completely unprepared for this, I had nine months to prepare, not three weeks!  This was the first challenge, given that he was excited and ready to leave, I had embrace this change and rally round getting all his stuff ready.  Sending a child off to the the Army is expensive and time consuming, the list of kit was huge! But you are missing the point here, my eldest child, at a mere 16 years of age was leaving home!  Now for me, joining the Army is very different from going to university or getting their first flat. Joining the Army means an instant relinquishment of my parental responsibility.  I will no longer be doing his laundry, mopping up his vomit when he starts to learn the joy of alcohol, no more would I be checking the clock and staying awake until I know he is safely back in the fold. No more requests for money or lifts, cooking (or watching Tammy cook) meals that never get eaten. No, this all stops abruptly when they join the Army. They take on the responsibility for our offspring entirely.  Anyway, it was happening so I had to suck it up and get on with it and this I did with gusto.  We packed him up, filled his pockets with cash and his belly with food and said farewell to him on Mothers Day.  Tears were shed by all his family members and I was no different but it was a very proud day and not as traumatic as I'd expected. Off I went home and life was set to continue.

Then it happened, it was like a very private, solitary brick wall of grief! I was struck by quite an overwhelming sadness.  Up until this point I had been getting fit, getting healthy, finding my stride, well, all that stopped. I couldn't bring myself to change his bedding or clean his room, I needed it to remain untouched.  It really was as if he had died.  I didn't expect any of this, I thought I'd be tearful for a day or two and that would be it.  Hell  no! It seems I was gonna milk this bad boy!  I don't think it was helped by the distinct lack contact.  We tried to overcome this with endless texts, parcels and letters but to no avail.  It occurred to me in this time that child number one had gone.  I fear for his younger brother and sister, I have no intention of enduring this again, they are never leaving home, ever!!!!

Anyway, here we are seven weeks later, he has been home on his first leave for a week and I am reminded, in no uncertain terms, that he is not dead, he is very much alive, very much still only 17 and very much in need of parenting when not within the control of her majesty's service!  Within 20 minutes of driving away from Army college he informed me that he had forgotten his wallet and had no way of accessing his wages!  I guess this was all I needed to confirm that my recent grief, and all those fears of not being needed by my first born were unfounded. I am his mum, will always be his mum and will always be required to be his constant.  He goes back tomorrow and I am no longer afraid.  My apron strings, it seems, have not been cut, they have simply been replaced by elastic, :-)

Ooooof......that was quick!!!!

Hello folks, it's been a while, well, at least that's what the dates say.  My last blog post was apparently in August 2011!!!!!!!! I think there may be a mistake as that is well over a year ago, it can't possibly be that long ago.  Wait, let me give this some thought.........that blog was about Doncaster Pride, Tammy was pregnant, I was at university, the boys at school...................Bugger!!!!!! That was ages ago!!!

OK, so are we agreed that this year has been a quick one?  And yet so much has happened!  For those of you that don't have Facebook, Twitter or Instagram (all three of you) I shall briefly update you.  In 2011 we were a family of four, no more though, we now have a Peggy!  Our beautiful daughter who ha scarily just celebrated her first birthday.  She has, without a doubt changed our lives for the better.  The boys, I am sure, are nicer people, at least I appear to enjoy them more.  They adore their little sister and she, in turn, adores them, it's like Little House On The bleeding Prairy in our house, all the sibling love thats flying around!!!  On top of that, I am no longer a student, however, sadly I am not yet a Social Worker either.  The job market is not what you would call target rich in terms of jobs for newly qualified social workers.  I have been working as a project worker for an alcohol service and been loving it.  That is also about to come to an end due to a lack of funding, this makes me sad and, more importantly, skint!!!!!!  Selling my body would be a solution................... if I could sell it by the pound!!!!  Rohan has left school, signed up to the British Army and is due to go for selection in January, which in turn means he will be leaving home, this is something I shall not dwell so please, dont mention it again or my keyboard will short out due to inevitable moisture!!!!  My 'little blonde bombshell' Aiden is now the tallest in the house and is studying for his GCSE's!!  I tell you, how can so much change in such a short period of time.  We no longer resemble the family we were back then.  However, I for one feel the transformation is a positive one, I like who we have become so much so I am going to take a minute to puff my chest out with pride.

My good lady wife keeps getting all emotional when she thinks about our youngest, Peggy, turning one and growing before our eyes.  It makes her cry and feel a sense of loss.  I don't get it, it makes me all excited about the person she is becoming and the childhood we are about to enjoy with her.  Perhaps I have the benefit of looking back at the boys childhood and remembering it with such nostalgic fondness.  I am thrilled that I am going to get to do that all again.  I am even excited at the thought of writing a blog a years time, looking back on the changes we have endured then!  So, if I don't see you before, I shall see you next year (which of course will feel like about two weeks)!  Happy Christmas, New Year, Easter, Birthday and Halloween!!!!!

Please note my lack of expectation in terms of blogging again in the next 12 months!  Ever the realist!

Out and Proud or In and Proud???

Well, Sunday marked the annual Doncaster Pride event. A day for public declarations of sexuality, to be proud and unashamedly gay. I have my own thoughts on this. I, as is anyone who identifies as a member of a minority group, am all to well aware of prejudice and stereotyping and feel that the only way to normalise my lifestyle "choice" is to be open and honest. Visibility is the key to acceptance. However, I'm sorry people but when I use the word normalise, I don't really know what that means, am I being homophobic? Do I mean normal for straight society or normal for gay society because it seems there is a difference!

When I walked around Keepmoat Stadium (well the car park anyway, seems like us gays are not quite worthy of entrance to the actual stadium) I felt an odd mix of emotion and it has to be said, pride was not one of them. I realised that stereotypes exist perhaps because we do all 'look the same'. I have always been proud of my 'gaydar' but realised that I don't have some paranormal sixth sense, heck no, I can spot a gay a mile away because we all wear the uniform! I have never seen such concentrated amount of wife beater vests, hair product and checked shirts! Bizarrely it seems that gender is irrelevant, boys and girls are using the same criteria to choose their hairdressers and their fashion choices, if it were not for the lady bumps I think I might of had trouble picking the boys from the girls!

With that in mind, my emotions were a combination of confusion, relief (I am not a scene lesbian and haven't been for some time), embarrassment (for a variety of reasons, a) that I am part of this community and, b) seeing some (not all) of my exes, my own past), fear, amusement, boredom, happiness, the list is endless. Now don't get me wrong, I am proud of my sexuality as much as I am proud of the person have become, and I was very much a part of that scene for many years and it was a huge much part of my journey toward becoming who I am today and boy did I have fun on that journey. Nevertheless, I see that period of my life as transitional, but many of the people that I saw at Pride where around during that period and are seem to be stuck in some kind of time warp. Never changing, never moving on, I wasn't sure if I hadn't actually gone back in time.

I figure there are many possible reasons for this. I have found, after some searching, the right person for me so my hunt is over and therefore my image had a different purpose. I wonder if I felt I needed to be easily identifiable by other lesbians in order to bag one for myself. Having 'bagged' one I no longer needed to be visibly identifiable. Or is it the influence of my wife that has changed my image and am I now trying to be someone else, still trying to fit in just to a different mould? Maybe it is just my age and a certain maturity that has altered my perception of self.

One thing I know for sure is that I had a great time seeing some old faces and catching up with people I only ever see at these events. I loved the atmosphere, I loved being openly affectionate with my wife and I had an all round good time with my friends who were both straight and gay and a little in between. Acceptance at Pride is a given, no-one cares who you love or how you identify, it is a safe place for all. So perhaps this is where the Pride comes into it. I saw all of these people, some whom I judge and criticise and yet, when I am around them I have no desire to hide who I am. I hold my wife's hand and have no fear of retribution.

OK, so in our attempts to be accepted as part of society and treated with equality, we have developed a community which enhances our stereotypes but it does increase visibility and I can, for a day be completely at ease with my sexuality. Therefore all you girls, boys, puffs, queers, queens, dykes, bois, womyn, lesbians, bisexuals, transgender, friends of Dorothy, people of the rainbow flag, I thank you, I applaud you and I encourage you to continue on your quest. It is thanks to you all that I live the life I live and you are able to live yours. Be Proud, you have earnt it!!!!

Explanation/Introduction/Excuse for writing a self indulgent blog!

I am no stranger to the writing of a blog but at the same time, I am not a veteran either. My first blog had a very clear purpose. It was a kind of e-diary on the progress of our allotment which began with much enthusiasm and vision but dwindled into to non-existance almost as quickly (both allotment and blog sadly). My hope is that this blog will have a little more longevity, my enthusiasm being maintained by the ever increasing possibilities of subject matter. Yes thats right, this blog as no direction, it just promises to give you a wee insight into my thoughts, experiences and opinions of any mundane or ridiculous subject that catches my interest. I am therefore, fully aware that it may be of absolutely no interest to anyone other than myself, hence my suggestion at it being self indulgent.

This first post then, is an attempt to offer a glimpse of what it might look like, how often it might be and the kind of topics you may expect to see. I secretly (not so secretly now that I have mentioned it) hope that my friends and family will share the link to my blog with their friends and family so I get lots of views, some glossy mag will spot it and I will never have to work again and will become a world famous blogger! Deluded? yes, absolutely.

My writing style, as I guess you have worked out, is concise. Short and snappy, bad spelling, worse grammar and little or no structure. All attributes I have so far failed to improve whilst at university therefore confirming that I am not an academic writer. I shall write for pleasure, there will be no planning, straight from my head to keyboard, little or no proof reading but I hope, some amusing errors and/or anecdotes to keep you entertained.

My material will come from my life experiences as a forty something (well, just forty for now) mother of two (well, two for now, number three is on its way) who is a divorced from my husband and completely besotted with my wife, doing a social work degree, living with many animals (both human and non-human) and in 'possession' (not in the kidnap sense) of a slightly odd and crazy family and network of friends (c'mon, you all know that is true). I suspect I shall shower you with posts in a disorganised way, three one day, nothing for a fortnight, of course leaving you dying for more (again deluded? again, absolutely). With that in mind, I hope you will join me on a journey of (hopefully) witty tales of life as a late blooming mother(to be)/'lesbian'/student/hopeful who is still trying to find her life's talent and wondering if writing might be it!!