Fresher's: The Fayre That Gave Me a Broken Mirror and Free Condoms

So I haven't posted for a while, I 've been pretty busy. I have had to find new separate childcare arrangements for my kids after my previous childminder moved two villages away. That was fun. Not!

Then I enrolled upon and completed an Information Literacy course known as Smart Start 2009. It went through all the academic bits such as referencing the correct way for subjects, where to find credibe research source materials and learning the other bits and pieces required for a life at university. It was incredibly helpful, and I urge you to do the course if they run one near you before going to uni.

So Monday was induction day one and the fresher's fayre, which was nowhere near as much fun as I thought. Despite being accosted by strangely young members of the conservative party (who aren't getting capital letters in my blog) and strangely fun members of the ice hockey team, who thought I'd be fantastic on a pair of skates with a big stick in my hand.

I would be, but I don't fancy the bit where I get smashed to bits by other people lol.

So all I have to show for this week is a student card (where my skin looks oddly glowy and dewy and all the good-skin words) a broken compact mirror from some company or other, free cheap condoms. a handful of pants leaflets and an insult. The insult was 'That's mature', after they pressed a conservative party badge into my hand and I looked at it put it back on the table and (this may or may not have been a subconscious action), wiped my hand on my jeans. I don't care dude. Your beloved party effed up our country every.single.time you scrabble your way to power. Get away from me.

Here endeth the politics rant. But the first of many about uni.

Update on the money front None as yet but it's looking up touch wood *claps hands to own head*

I'm on my fifth cup of coffee and it's only noon!

As the headline reads, I'm hyper haha.

For the last three days I've dragged my ass out of a nice warm bed, away from extremely fun dreams to get up and get the lads ready for school and nursery. And, SHOCKER,  I only struggled the first day! Normally, I'm the furthest thing form a morning person you can get, needing coffee, morning tv, and silence from children, to evolve into a human. The whole pathetic process took about two hours.

But since Wednesday, I've all but sprang out of bed, into clean clothes, whack a bit of moisturiser and foundation on, and bounce downstairs. I must be a pod person. The kids get up okay with a bit of prodding, Dylan's not a morning person, Joe can be, depends on the planetary alignment and an assortment of other factors lol.

By seven twenty this morning, my hair was washed and brushed, I had clean clothes on, and washing on the line to dry. Sometimes I scare myself!

The only cloud on the horizon is the state of Student Finance England, who are (apparently) processing my application for financial support during my humanities degree. I actually got my shit together and applied in April, assuming mine would be on the proverbial top of the pile to process.

NOT SO!

I sent my documents in TWICE. They lost them on their fabulous all-singing, all-dancing system computer server. (Note to SFE: Get a new system, cos the one you got obviously can't cut it.) I fulfilled my end of the bargain, and because so many people applied for uni this year, they can't handle it. We all are on tenterhooks hoping and praying that loans get sorted before we starve to death, eaten by the dog we got for warmth because we can't afford the eletric and gas prices, which climb daily in this silly country.

I'm currently in the middle of applying for additional extra support from uni itself, and the application form states requests so many forms of documentation I'm wondering whether or not to include a pint of my own blood to sweeten the proposal.

To top this fantastic twist to the tale, my youngest son Joe, hugged me goodbye so hard this morning he pierced the back of my earring spike INTO my neck. Love hurts, hey? It sure did this morning.

Early Starts, Toast and Cries of I 'm Not Going To School, I Don't Feel Well

Today will be a busy one, not as busy as tomorrow morning, but today will definitely have it's moments.

Today is the last day of the school holidays for my childrens' school, which means that all day I will have the utmost fun of washing washing ironing and hanging up uniform. Cleaning shoes and locating PE kit, drying out trainers that I thankfully remembered to wash last night. I don't like the first days of anything. School, new job, new house, university. EEK!

I would much rather know what's expected of me, and from me, and my boys. I like a base routine to my day and new places and things to remember does not bode well for me. So I'm the irritating mum who says to other mums I see in the shop, 'What day do they start back?' and 'Which door is it for Year One?'

I know exactly what day Dylan starts back, but the week before panic sets in, and I convince myself I heard/read it wrong, and I'll look a total fool fetching Dylan back a day early or a day late, with the wrong uniform and the wrong essentials.

The first day of uni won't be as bad because if anyone looks a fool, it will be me, I'm used to looking like a total geek, with too much stationery and a massive bag of stuff I won't need. EVER. I have made a list of stuff I have to do before I start that is as long as the Labour Party manifesto (112 pages, I checked.) Politics is one of my modules. I've figured out I can log on to the student intranet, called Blackboard, over two weeks ago, and I've read through everything on my personal little part of it religiously.

You might have realised by now, I hate the unexpected, random, and unpredictable. I don't like surprises, and will only accept them from people I trust completely. I actually made myself ill in both pregnancies because I'd never experienced pregnancy before in the first instance, and because I'd never experienced birth in my second pregnancy. I badgered my poor consultant till I got what I wanted - which was a planned caesarean section.
    The first one was an emergency and I couldn't bear the thought of having Joseph naturally. So I didn't. The inpredictability of it all petrified me and made me an emotional wreck. This was all at a time in 2005 when the government and various other interfering officials were doing their level best to try and stop planned caesarean sections. 

Yes, I'm odd. Yes, I was too scared to push, not too posh! When I was pregnant with Joseph, I had all kinds of people attempting to talk me round to the idea of natural childbirth. I listened politely while clenching my teeth so as to hold the vomit back. For me, there's nothing natural about childbirth, and is, to me, one of the most terrifying and barbaric things women are expected to undertake.

Well, sorry about that. This post started in a totally different place than it went. After Dylan starts school, and Joseph, nursery, I have exactly seven days to pack my unibag no less than a million times and photocopy things I might need, but probably won't need. So total panic and the fear of all things new will reign in our house for roughly two weeks. Strangely, once I know what's happening, I'm totally fine. I get things done, and don't panic about anything, except the fact that Christmas is only 109 days away lol!

Go Me!!!

I'm so proud of myself. After living in my house for almost five years, I have finally started making it into a home.

My ex was content to live in a house like the one Jack built, ie, dropping to bits.
I've finished my dining room, apart from getting a few canvases or pictures and my Mum and I finished my sons' room today while they were at the seaside with my sister. So much for peace and quiet. This is the first time I've had a minute all day. It's heaven.

I have a coffee and a new KitKat chunky caramel (sorry to expats, the only thing id miss about britain is the chocolate goods), I don't mean to rub it in. But they are A-mazing. Not like caramel sauce, like a caramel fondant under the chunky chocolate. MMMM!

Ah, well. It's been housework and decorating all day today. My mum's great. She paints (cos, apparently I dawdle and she hates watching me dawdle) and I move furniture, make tea and sandwiches, and clean up. I'm just avoiding the ironing. It's the worst chore I have. The iron has a mind of its own and the only thing I've ever been able to de-crease right is kids t-shirts. Oh, and jeans.

My five year old told me the funniest thing about an hour ago, when my mum and sister departed. He gestured that I bend down to hear him better, and said proudly, I looked after Auntie Julie when we went on the ghost train. He felt so brave and had a big impressed smile on his face. It was pretty good for him because he is usually a bit of a drama queen, and is really sensitive. Both my sons are. They'll make great boyfriends and husbands one day, but they won't be the proverbial bad boy. They are too nice for that.

My friend's sister turned to us the other day and said of Dylan, He will break hearts one day that one.

I'm sort of on pause in life at the minute. Waiting for the older boy to start school (he will be in Year 1), thats new version of reception class or class 1 to you and me, I still work on the old system for most things lol. And Joe, my youngest starts morning nursery on the same day at the same time on opposite sides of the school. He starts 'big school' or reception class in January. I have roughly a week to myself then I start a course to build study skills for people starting degrees the week after. It's a three day course and highly recommended by a friend of mine. And then I get thrown in at the deep end of uni the week after.

AND STILL NO SIGN OF MY VARIOUS STUDENT LOANS! I have been awarded the same stop gap loan as everyone else as the company are so backed up with applications. I've sent the same set of documents in twice now. Who runs a company like this and gets away with it?!

I need these loans to appear and work out because shortly I will have to sign off the dole and be left with my kids money keeping me afloat while the 21st. I hate money. Well, it's not that i hate money, I hate the concept and culture of moeny. I should blog off I'm so cross with the student loans company I can barely think straight.

Question Time: How's life in your neck of the woods? Busy? Boring? Fun? Let me know x

Hi all,
         
I haven't been upto anything very interesting, therefore I haven't blogged since Saturday. I have tidied this house downstairs within an inch of it's life, and can't face doing the upstairs till tomorrow maybe. There are four rooms upstairs in my house and something needs doing in every room. The wallpaper is half stripped in my room, and the kids' room is half painted. The study is full of stuff and I just.can't.face.it.

So I'm on here avoiding it ;-)

Over the last few days, my friend and I took our kids to a shopping centre near us, Meadowhall. But, unfortunately, it has acquired the name Meadowhell, recently.  I don't suffer a fear of small spaces or crowds of people, and it's a good job, because the centre is always stuffed with people. My older son Dylan, is quite good at behaving while clothes shopping and Joseph the younger one isn't. Together, and with an extra child, who my kids have corrupted I'm sure, just don't mix well with clothes shopping. Never mind they are all back to school on the 8th. I can't wait. Joseph is at nursery five mornings a week, and starts fulltime school in January. Where's the time gone?  Since I kicked the ex out, it has FLOWN.

Another thing that's been annoying to deal with is the situation of when the kids visit their dad. Dad is the wrong word for how he's behaved toward his children recently. When the kids go to his mum's house, cause that's where he lives, they have twice come back covered in cat flea bites. But,apparently, it's been treated. Obviously, if it's treated, they would not be getting bit still, would they? So I have not taken them and they won't be going round again.His mum said to me, if I have a complaint about her home (and obviously, I have), then the kids aren't welcome. Great grandparenting, I must say.

It's fine for her and other relatives to stand up for their kids when they feel like they need to, but, when I do it?

I'm a bitch and a hypocrite. God. I'd love to swear on here but if I started I'd be unable to stop.

Well. I'm taking a stand. Clean up , or you and your son will never have the children at your abode ever again. Capisce?

Some people rile me.