I guess this is a sweet and sour blog, a number 19 on the Lotty menu served with a side order of 'how the hell did I get through that week.'
Yes tough mum stuff again, I don't want to depress you all and make you drown in your wine or your coco pops depending on what time you're reading this so I'll emit some nasty details. However as always, I write this blog selfishly for me and not you so bare with me please, this is my release; rather like having a good windy bottom after eating baked beans.
Both mum and dad over the past two months were drifting apart, my dad full of anger and frustration over him having a knackered heart and mum being terminally ill. Mum became withdrawn, depressed and anxious about going out; strange seeing the two strongest people in your life dwindle before your very eyes. Strange doesn't cover it, it's heart breaking, heart breaking doesn't cover it either really, at it's worst it's like being knifed in the heart when your fully conscious with your eyes as wide open as a deer in head lights, living the nightmare every breathing minute of the day.
I could see it getting worse, feel the tension between them I could almost eat the smell of anger and sadness when I walked into their house.I didn't know what to do and I hid away a bit, in the comfort of my own home because if I didn't look into my mums or dads eyes then I wouldn't be reminded of the utter feeling of helplessness that consumed my body.
I got stronger, with some help; the good news came that the cancer wasn't any bigger and the chemo was stopping the fucker growing like a triffid, so mum decided a chemo holiday was in order. Now it's not your average Saga holiday or week in Blackpool, a summer to plan, to do stuff, to live and not be tied to hospital appointments the way Robin sticks to Batman like shit on a stick. All Rosie for a while but mum and dad emotionally deteriorated dramatically; so I cracked on getting them some help; got them both counselling, some happy pills, regular trips to the hospice for mum and tried to keep them busy. To date I think its working, they seem a lil happier, no not a little today they were themselves, just more tired looking.
Mums pain got worse this week and other symptoms ( I will emit) have now started; a sign it could be spreading, a sign maybe she really needs to get off the coach from the chemo holiday and get back to hotel NHS. Shes on constant morphine now and its keeping the pain at bay.
I spent the afternoon with them today, just me, mum and dad. It was just like when I was 15 and my brothers had left home; mum was ironing, dad was pottering around in the garden and we just talked about nothing about everything. It was just normal, and in between mum casually saying she thinks the cancer might be in her lungs, we made plans, special plans; a weekend away just me and her, party planning for my daughters adoption party next week. We laughed, we giggled, she took the piss out of me for being forgetful, I made her carry a load of heavy stuff to the garage and said oh maybe I shouldn't have done that you have got cancer haven't you; we both laughed.
Cancers not about death, it's more about life that you will ever know; yes it will take her and my dads knackered old heart might take him one day but something takes us all. Yes cancer can change you, can make you weaker but really it just remoulds a person, a little like kids playing with play doh only not as many bright colours.
Every week is so different, sometimes it's clouded with horrible heart wrenching thoughts that make me want to be physically sick in the middle of the night but other times, hopefully most of the time it's just about living. About doing the weekly shop, seeing my kids being spoilt with their grannie and grandad, watching mum doing the ironing, popping around with cake I've made and the luxury times when we both go away. It's day by day and week by week, it's all it can be and it's all it should be. I didn't know my love for my mother and father could get any bigger but I stood there today and I felt it all around me, in every pore and vein in my body. It was sweet, as sweet candy floss made from pure honey, all fluffy and pink and warm like the best cuddle you ever ever had.
Thanks for reading, go tell someone you love em please.
Saturday, 21 July 2012
I guess this is a sweet and sour blog, a number 19 on the Lotty menu served with a side order of 'how the hell did I get through that week.'
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
I don't know why I first joined twitter, I think I blame Steven Fry. I did the same as everyone else, got an orgasm when a celebrity talked to me, left for a while and came back. Early last year it changed my life, in a dramatic fashion and through a lot of heartache it made me a better stronger person and made my life more liveable as a result.
From then on in twitter became something different for me, I never went looking for friends or someone to talk too, just to be nosy really. Like peeping at the neighbours wearing a Harry Potter invisibility coat whilst sporting my ugliest knickers. It just happened I've met some beautiful people and have made some beautiful friends, for life I am truly blessed.
That said it has it's dramas, it's not perfect, nothing is. I've been trolled and not in a Billy goats gruff sense, Ive had my crushes and Christ if Tom Hardy doesn't stop DMing me I'm going to report the bastard.
Today was a bad day on twitter and I needed to write this blog, not to go into specifics but because this morning when I was very upset over something I realised it's power and it's shocked me; I knew it was powerful but I didn't know it actually gave electric shocks. A few words on a screen, making me cry on the flip side, scrolling down my timeline something making me smile. Two such extreme emotions. Happiness and hurt in 140 characters.
I used to fight liking twitter so much, I used to think I was waisting my evening; I stopped and I missed it, I wasn't happy, a close friend pointed out to me is we should only do things that made us happy. That's when I allowed myself to embrace twitter in a full force Lotty hug. I love it, I'm not ashamed to love it. If it's not impacting on my real life then as far as I'm concerned, jobs a good en, Bobs your Uncle and Fanny's your great Aunt that always buys you shitty socks.
Twitter for me now, as many of you know is an outlet, a place to spill my emotions about my mums cancer and not make anyone worry about me in my real life. As some of you know it's a thought bank for me deposit my valueless earnings of my mind; anything from who invented pencils to oh I fancy writing on my arm,I really think that shit! I'd happily tweet away to myself to be honest it's just therapeutic way getting thoughts and emotions out there. I realised today maybe I'm too open, it makes me vulnerable but I also realised it's just me and if there one thing I learnt from a very young age is just be me, always and it's done me well so far, if not left me a little bruised like an over ripe peach.
So I guess I've rambled enough, about nothing as usual. Once again I nearly deleted my account this morning, I actually hovered over the button but then I remembered you lot make me smile everyday, one way or another and I just wanted to say thank you for making me laugh and cry but mainly your kindness, it overwhelms me at times, I don't know what brought us all together but I'm happy we all got to know each other in this loony land that is twitter.
Now piss off I need to change my avi, I haven't in ten minutes.
Thanks for reading
Friday, 8 June 2012
It's been a week of Red, White, Blue, Piss, shit, hospitals, felt pens on sofas, confusion, excellent dancing in the garden at 1am and many a tear shed. I'm not even going to try and make sense of it all, it was one of those weeks that just was; you know the kind, the ones your just glad are over and can't wait to get cracking on a new one. I guess that's the optimist in me, I'm not a dweller but I can see a procrastinator emerging in me as I get older. Procrastination and optimism; sounds like the perfect Lotty cocktail to me, I'll have a double please.
So I've no idea what this blog is about, it's early again, I can hear the clock ticking like nails down a black board, everyone in the house is sleeping, twitter is asleep, I'm guessing therefore the whole world is really, I'm sure that's not paranoia.
It's been a funny old week, I remember as a child waking up early on Saturday mornings and being filled with excitement of not having to go to school and awaiting Going Live coming on. As a 35 year old woman, I now enjoy the peace and quiet, tip toe around like I'm walking on egg shells made of glass so as not to wake the beasts that are my kids and start wondering when Saturday kitchen comes on so I can drool, over the food, not James Martin, alright well maybe a bit, ok a lot. Actually sod the food I'll just eat my cheerios and mark James's hair and clothes...shut up lotty.
I realised this week something I already knew, there's a Lottyism if ever I heard one! I have an affliction a terrible affliction for being honest, for me being me and for speaking from my mind and my heart always I'm not one of those people that say 'I'm just being honest' and then goes onto making a bitching comment, I'm talking about talking from my heart, my emotions ooze out of me, every minute of every day and it leaves me open like a flapping book in the wind, open to the elements and tea stains.
I'm like it in real life but as you know on twitter too, if I'm happy, sad, upset everyone around me knows it. Funny thing is though if I'm sad I go quiet, I never let that show until the almighty force that is twitter came along. That's the place I allow myself to be sad, if I do I almost don't want anyone to respond to it because I feel bad for being a miserable cow but the kindness of twitter is as precious to me as an eye lash I have to make a wish from. Hence my thinking around twitter (are you making notes this is gripping stuff.) Still after all this time I forget, or fool myself that people read what I'm writing and I just write it for me. I love that, pure indulgence it's something I'm not used too. Its like getting up and thinking just about yourself and doing what ever YOU want. It's seems like a long long time ago since I did that, actually it is, that's the deal with being a parent isn't it. You get very small moments of just being you but Christ they're as precious as sunshine in December and you appreciate them all the more. It's made slightly more restricted as I'm a carer too, a job I got by recommendation from life for being a daughter; I've not seen the job description yet or my aims and objectives so I just turn up for work and see what it throws at me. I've tried to book annual leave but the calendar is full, however I'm nothing but a trier so every now and again I take a moment to look out the window or cruise the Internet to find some train tickets or a holiday cottage I could escape too for a few days. I'm Lotty and I'm a tough old stickler of a bird so I'll book my annual leave, even if its a day. I'm rambling now which is a sure sign my brain has woken up and I'm aware of what I'm writing, which is never how my blogs work. I feel something, I let me fingers wiggle on the iPad and it flows like a cream being poured over strawberries at Wimbledon.
So I'll hold the calories on the cream for now and save them for wine tonight or maybe I'll wait and see what James temps me with this morning, either a nice piece of salmon or a rather nice checked shirt. Is it me or is a man in a checked or stripy shirt just made ultra sexy. Hold on, I'm doing it again, fucking James Martin; bring back Phillip and Sarah, times were much simpler then but not as fruitful that's for sure. I wouldn't change a thing.
Thanks for reading my wiggly fingers people of twitter, your a select bunch of people who are the only ones that are party to my wiggly fingers, well you and finger mouse but let's go there eh.
Monday, 21 May 2012
I can't sleep, it's 1.15am and I found myself writing this. My mind is awash and on ultra spin with a million things; my work, mum dying, the kids, this weekend and my life generally. My husband is lying next to me snoring his head off, I want to poke him in the ribs and say excuse me, do you realise exactly how lucky you are to be able to just fall asleep like that when your head hits the pillow. I'd actually kill someone for that, preferably Noel Edmonds if I could choose.
A good friend asked how I was earlier, I said I was ok and I was doing one day at a time and yes he was right this is all good. To be honest its all I can do, I was never one for planning anyway, never one for huge ambitions I just wanted to be happy and for those around me that I love to be the same.
I like to take each day as it comes but when your unsure what each one will bring, all you want is the normality of being able to plan something more than a week ahead. I think it's called living the grass is greener way, it's a bit bollox actually and rather new for Lotty, anyway I bet the grass is covered in dog shit and dandelions anyway.
So what's keeping me awake? Unknown work resolutions mainly (but they will eventually get sorted I know) but also this weekend. Its a biggie, I'm excited as a child but I'm also drenched in uncertainty of how I will feel and how emotionally stable I will be from Friday to Monday.
Me, my husband and the kids are taking my mum, dad and grandmother away to the beach for the weekend. What the fucks up with Lotty I hear you cry, has she finally lost the plot so much even google earth says no results found.
Well there's a reason, there always is with me, it's not just any old place or any old weekend away; for the past roughly 12 years my parents have taken there parents to this small seaside treasure, I went there as a child and so did my parents. I always tagged along when mum and dad took nana and grandad and I've gone from being a graduate, young free and single, to it being the holiday my husband to be, drove 3hrs to tell me he loved me for the first time. To a place we went too after grandad had died and we all cried buckets and spades and then ate prawns and giggled about the good times. It's also a place where I held my first child's hand and walked on the beach just as I did when my feet were as small as his and looked into my parents eyes and saw pure love, deep love and happiness just as there parents did with them, breathing the same sea breeze and wiggling the same sand between their toes.
They weren't going to go this year, my Nan's in a wheelchair and mum and dad can't watch Jeremy Kyle without needing a rest. However, not letting a little thing like that stop me, I offered for us to take them. Sounds stupid to say I'm a bit scared but I am , scared of lots of things but ultimately knowing this will probably be that last time we all go there together; thats scary even writing it so I can't imagine how I'm going to feel when I'm there.
I know one thing, more certain than the fact I'll be knackered tomorrow and probably send my boy to school in my pants; I know it will be the best holiday yet. Both my children will be there for the first time, we will all go on the beach, someone will need a wee when they're aren't any loos. My mum and dad will row, the kids will get tired and grumpy, my nana will fart in public, I will shout at my husband for being a prick about parking, we will all eat fish and chips and then moan about how full we are. I will go for an early morning walk on the beach and paddle in the icy water and probably get a cold. I'll play cards with nana, she will forget the game half way through, mum will sit on the sofa reading magazines and watching tv while we're all cabined up at night and Dad will sit crunching sweets annoying the feck out of us all. Do you know what? Sounds fucking brilliant to me, I just hope I have the emotional strength to get through it and grab those moments, take my mums hand while she smiles at my children paddling in the sea and remember it all forever.
I'll be ok I'm tougher than a mule wearing a donkey jacket, I'll lap it up, I might cry when I'm on my own but the happy times and memories will dry out any tears and last forever in the sea breeze.
I must go and try and get a little sleep because if I send my son to school in my thong tomorrow social services will be banging on my door quicker than you can say deck chair.
Night night, thanks for reading kids.
Monday, 14 May 2012
It's about 5am, I've been awake since three as my knackered old neck and back decided to wake me along with my busy mind, tapping at my brain like a dripping tap with an incontinence problem.I love this time of day, the early morning sounds the silence, the birds singing and daylight playing peepo with the clouds.
Yesterday was special, very special it was my only sons 5th birthday and for those of you that have been living on button moon since Lotty joined Twitter my children are adopted. I forget they are adopted, they feel like mine, they are mine but it's strange although it's something I will never experience I feel like I gave birth to them. What's also slightly odd is it's only at special times I remember they are adopted because I always think about the birth parents and what could have been if he didn't end up with us. Without boring you with nicotine and caffeine induced early morning ramblings, my son was born a drug addict, his birth mother was an addict. Its strange people reactions are always of disgust when they hear that, not mine just empathy and despite my son having a visual impairment because of it I still think about her on days like yesterday because I know she would have been thinking about him.
Days like yesterday are more poignant because of my mums terminal cancer, it could have been the last time she shares a birthday with my son so it was extra special for many reasons, although strangely it was a cancer free day yesterday; a precious rarity like a Mary Poppins bag. None of us thought about it, we all just soaked up every giggle, every bounce on the castle, every pass in pass the parcel and every smile that beamed from my sons lips and let that beautiful priceless feeling soak into us forever.
I text my mum yesterday asking her to bring emergency lollies and ketchup, like you do, she text back saying got both (because grannies always have lollies and ketchup) she said your doing a great job, I replied that I'd learnt from the best and It's true, my parents were born to be parents. Some people just are aren't they, I had an amazing childhood and I really believe that it's every child's god given right too.
Despite being up at stupid o'clock I'm still glowing inside from yesterday, a precious birthday thats now gone. I know my son will remember when he's older and I know I will look at the pictures when I'm grey and prune like and remember it fondly and smile like it was actually yesterday. Sometimes life gives you shit doesn't it and to be honest I've had rather a lot of it of late but then life gives you something precious that you can't buy or bottle or even get on eBay and you smile, a real earthy smile and you remember how amazing life can actually be and those moments help carry you for the next load of hurdles. It's amazing what some jelly and ice cream and a monster truck can do eh.
Here's to many more bounces on the castle, more smiles in people eyes of those I love and lifetime of precious memories that will outlive us all.
Thanks for reading kids.
Tuesday, 1 May 2012
Something you should know about me as an artist which none of you will and which is the most precious personal thing I own, is when I do get the chance to draw or paint my mind goes onto the paper. I hide me in there, hidden amongst the layers, my thoughts and feelings so people can peek at them, make there conclusions but only I really know what it means; to them it's just a picture that doesn't look like a face or a vase but for Lotty it's a part of me. I just wrote this, I've never done anything like it before with words, only a pencil or a brush.
These are my painted words;
It's only when it's gone you realise what you missed.
A forever chilling breath that surrounds you like the sky around a cloud.
When you held it for a precious moment, you were yourself as you were meant to be all along.
The shapes changed and they merged like the silky sharp damp reflection of sunrise on water.
The picture became clearer as eye lashes parted and the day bleached upon skin.
Then serenity formed with the beauty of a new born and fresh beginnings arose like never before, like everything was meant to be as it is.
A path taken with eyes closed as tight as locked door, a perfect path that lead to a beautiful bright beginning of a journey with no words.
A perfect bumpy road trip with laughter lines and bruises to share.
A truly precious life to lead and lead it well I will do.
Thursday, 26 April 2012
This morning I thought my heart was actually going to break, it's been shattered a couple of times in the past by some rather first class knob blokes when I was a single gal but this was different. I could feeI it aching, a different kind of ache completely out of the blue. I was in the kitchen being a mummy, iPod was on shuffle and a song came on about someone that had died. It got me hook, line and sinker, no warning; tears streamed from my eyes like a toddler peeing all over the carpet when your trying to potty train.
I stood looking out the window and thought how can I possibly be grieving for mum she's still here, I guess it a process and I've never been through anything like this before. I know thousands sadly do but Lotty hasn't, I always come back to the fact that it's not actually me going through it its mum; so buck Lotty and get on with it.
For those of you that don't know, my mum was diagnosed with in-operable terminal cancer last year and I'm her and my dads full time carer. I was thinking today since all this started about last October I've been pretty strong. She's been really rough recently, rougher than I've let on to be honest; the worst yet and it's given me a taster of vile things to come. The point is I've been strong for others, I'm still doing that and I'll still slap on a smile when I walk out the front door or pick up the phone to speak mum but as a some of you know I lost some of my strength recently....I think it got chucked out by mistake and went to the same place all the odd socks go. I know it will come back I'm just waiting for the postman to put a red card through the door and I'll collect it at the weekend.
I'm surprised I'm not coping as well as I was, it sounds silly doesn't it, yes I'm allowed not to cope it's a fucking living nightmare stuff this and it's been a rough few months for me with my miscarriage and all. But I'm just not used to feeling so mentally weak, I'm not used to involuntarily bursting into tears like the brat in the sweet shop being told no. So it seems I am human after all folks, this fucking wonder woman outfit needs to go to the cleaners and have a good airing to get some powers back. I know I'll find it again we always do don't we, I'll be brave and get some help, I've never been afraid to ask for help I still ask old grannies to help me across busy roads so it's no different is it.
I hate to moan, I'm not a moaner and sorry if these words all jumbled resemble it, as you know I'm an optimist I can see a positive in sinking ship me. I'm not beat yet, I know there's worst to come but I know I'm strong and writing my blog, tweeting and the beautiful people around me help me every day.
Apologies for the erratic and sometimes sad timeline but as all my tweets, I just write what pops into my head and my heart it's a Lotty force even the power of grey skull would struggle to contend with.
Thanks for reading this waffle, I'll look forward to receiving my sympathy donkey in the post, I bet I'll be out; I'll pick it up at the post office when I get my strength back.