Tag: son

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Things I’m thankful for…

I’m thankful for making it to day 2 of my fitness challenge; work in progress!

I’m thankful for my son, who cried to get into my bed and once I acquiesced, told me he didn’t like the fan and went back to his bed, leaving me wide awake.

I’m thankful for my daughter, who despite being only 7 managed to occupy territory (in my bed) roughly the equivalent of Luxembourg.

I’m thankful for my son, who after his usual bath and bedtime routine dropped a poo bomb that saw us repeating the whole process.

I’m thankful to my daughter, who woke up 20 minutes after I got to bed to get me to choose my favourite character from Shakespeare’s “Taming of the Shrew” (children’s edition) whilst covering my bald head in stickers. I love my life and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Ps; I’m growing things on my window sill now. Lettuce and mint. The idea was to eat more healthily…

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The mint has gone in gin.

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BSD

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Cooking again

Intermittent fasting relies heavily on eating well and exercising.

I planned to fill the time when the kids aren’t here with the things I used to enjoy doing; running, gym, martial arts and cooking. My self-discipline needs a little work but it’s not far from where it should be.

Tonight, a pasta dish but this is for the carbs. 200 ml of whole milk to help ketosis, 3 rashers of streaky bacon, red, yellow and green peppers and salt and pepper to taste. It’s a bit of a celebration of the finding that we are healthier eating the right kind of fats, but i’m pretty sure if I don’t get exercising properly soon my Doc might disagree.

Pour the milk in the pan and add the pasta. The pasta that I failed to list in the ingredients above. Add some pepper. Bring the milk to the boil and then turn the heat down low.

Take a pair of scissors to the bacon and fry on a medium heat. Add some butter to the pan before hand. Add some butter to the list above too whilst you’re at it.

Finely slice the peppers and add them to the pan. Cook them until everything is…cooked.

Keep stirring the pasta. It will stick to the pan if you don’t.

  At some point, I will either eat or dispose of that gingerbread thing.

Pretty happy with the finished article; it tasted amazing.


I guess you could sprinkle it with something green and nutritious. Or cheese. It’s a bit anemic.

BSD


            

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Home sweet home

When your daughter draws this on your computer and gives it that title, you know you’ve done something right, even though it feels wrong. 

BSD

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Wednesday’s thoughts

Following an [extremely convincing] internet scare story I now have a water filter complete with a year’s worth of cartridges. The idea is to reduce the intake of heavy metals for me and my kids. I’m not embarrassed. 

Listening to the shocking statistic that 1 in 2 of us will now develop cancer in our lifetime i’m taking no chances; after all, it did for my mother. 

There has to be something in our modern lifestyle behind it, as I can well remember when that stat was 1 in 3. Surely if we keep going at this rate, cancer will be an inevitability?
I skipped class tonight. It took a lot of willpower not to skip supper too. Intermittent fasting relies heavily on eating well and exercising. I planned to fill the time when the kids aren’t here with the things i used to enjoy doing; running, gym, martial arts and cooking. 

My self-discipline needs a little work but it’s not far from where it should be.

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This morning..

Having sat up way too late last night to do her hair I elected to take things a bit easier this morning.  

Working on the ‘a little of what you like’ principle they both get a bowl of frosted corn flakes for breakfast rather than the usual porridge. I’ve decided to begin intermittent fasting again.

They’re with their mum tonight and indeed for the rest of the week as I’m working so I want to make the most of them. I’ve packed their bags with everything they’ll need until they’re back under my roof again.

This is going to take some getting used to…

My time-keeping  anxieties came back with a vengeance and I was quickly aware of the language I was using around the kids. ‘Hurry up!’ ‘Stop dawdling’ ‘Speed up!’ ‘Tell me in the car!’

One thing I do quite well is listen to myself, and this time I didn’t like what I was hearing. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them, I smiled. I was suddenly aware of the message that I needed to give my children right now.

 

I sat on the closed toilet, and hugged my daughter tightly.

 

My son, hating to miss out on intimacy comes barreling in. On noticing the comb in my other hand he swiftly 180s and sprints away into the bedroom.

The second error of the day hits me when I take a friends advice and ditch the motorway for the more rural route. I become traffic for quite a while.

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Evening thoughts..

How do you coparent effectively?

Where the heck do you start?

It’s a minefield trying to set standards for your children when you couldn’t make a relationship work as adults. 

Even the basics have the potential to descend into some fresh hell. 

I’m tired. Fresh start and a fresh outlook needed. No more tonight. 

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Monday afternoon

It’s amazing how quickly the time goes before it’s pick up time again.

I’ve calculated that dropping and collecting both puts 2 hours (each way) on my day. That’s a lot and I’m tired already. Work are being good and I put in the hours in the evening or when they’re with their mum, but something has to give.


The big man is first and I find him stripped to his vest, the day starting cold but turning hot sees me taking John McClane to get his things. He’s cold to me at first, probably remembering me leaving him but then all is forgiven with a cuddle. We don’t talk much on the way to the second pick up but he seems preoccupied trying to keep the sun out of his eyes.

She’s extremely tired and slightly teary, so I don’t push her too much. I do get the full run-down on her day and bring her up to speed on mine.

Things to note today:

Always keep baby wipes in the car.

I touched the whiskey, but just a small glass.

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BSD

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Monday morning

The biggest thing about relocating for me is timings.

I know what time I need to be where but I’m still not sure of how long it will take to get there.
You see time is very important to me. I don’t like to ‘waste’ it, and I don’t like wasting other people’s. I’m not anal or anything, but i’m.. no, ok, I am. I try to work backwards from my time due at a place to calculate when I’ll need to leave. Allow for traffic and some other stuff and voila. It works most of the time.

We’re late(ish). I try not to get stressy. It’s not the kids’ fault, but this is the thing with relocation. I’ve moved too far from where I need to be.

The kids are on form for the drive in. Angry Birds denied her fallback today is I-Spy. This can be challenging; past games have seen me exhausting ‘Ns’, for the reveal to be ‘Squirrel’…..

Dont make me explain it.

For some reason I can never guess ‘teeth’, even with her great clues. My suggestions are a little more pedestrian. I’ll have to remember that one for tomorrow.

Daughter dropped off it’s a slow toddle with the boy to the school office to pay for an upcoming trip. 25p over, I suggest the secretary place it in the offshore account for a rainy day.

I decide to promote the big man to the front seat for the onward journey to nursery. It’s a 3 point rather than a 5 point (preferred), but even at 2, he has the size and stature to fit safely.  Interesting mistake..

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Despite me pre-empting and moving the seat back, he can reach everything. He keys my radio, turns on the heated seat and puts the car in second gear. His comprehension is good, so I explain to him that what he is doing isn’t good. He stops.

The passenger window opens. And shuts. He turns and looks at me with the biggest smile in recorded history. And opens it. And shuts it.  At this point if he was in the back I would have isolated the windows.

And open..

He then slides the center console open. Just a few centimetres, but enough for OCD daddy. I close it. He looks at me, smiles, and opens it, almost to exactly the same distance. I close it again. He gives a smile and opens it again – I can’t help but admire his curiosity; he knows his time in the front seat is limited.

The toddle into nursery is uneventful, and he joyfully hangs his bag and gillet on his hook. Entry into the playroom is more fraught. He doesn’t want me to leave and I don’t want to leave him. The staff are lovely, and he always settles eventually but not without tears. His strength matches his size and it’s a physical wrench as well as emotional.

There’s something so perverse about having kids then going to work in order to pay for someone else to look after them.

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A good way to finish the day.

Painting!

Proves to be quite an effective way of rounding off the day.

I realise that I spend a lot of time with them. I also know that this is me compensating for not being there all the time. Despite this being of my own volition, it does get to me at times.

An unexpected frustration of splitting homes is that you find yourself short of ‘things’. Things that you used to have but have no more. Things like places to put paint. Using one of my [many] popular sayings, adapt and overcome, a dinner plate makes a great makeshift pallette.

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The eagle eyed amongst you may have also spotted the old duvet, that now doubles as a sacrificial surface.

I’ve been introduced to Aboriginal dot painting by my daughter; something she had learnt this week in school. I’m suitably impressed with both her and the school curriculum.

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I’m less impressed with my efforts….

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Don’t ask me to explain; I can’t. I changed my mind several times whilst creating it and this was the result.

Artistically, she takes after her mum.