A Fist Full of Friends - the Good, The Bad and the Gorgeous

I've had a wake up call over friends today. Most of us could say we have lots of friends we see, speak or communicate somehow with on a regular basis - even if it's just hitting "Like' on their facebook post. My niece has 644 friends on her Facebook. WTF?? I don't even know that many people. I remember reading a study, ok in truth probably heard it on the radio or something more low key than actually reading, but the gist was the actual max number of people we could have in a our true group of friends - people we would know well enough to ask for a favour - was about 125. Well twice verily I say WTF?! 

So let's be honest - the term Friend is used broadly but can have several different interpretations - ranging from casual acquaintance to someone who is right there, in your inner circle, being there, loving you no matter what you do, say, own or even weigh. And when you take that more extreme group of friends, most of us (or maybe it is just me) are truly lucky if we have a number of those friends that we can count on more than one hand. 

How those friends come about can be anybodies guess... looking at my "handful" it includes my oldest friend I've known since I was 15, we've been there off and on through all the major pieces of our lives and frankly they will always be my friend because indeed they just know too much. Other friends I have got to know through work. Invariably these are people that I met either on a business trip or were new to the group, outside of my normal circle, and we just clicked, got on famously and felt like you'd always known them. And then there's that friend, that frankly was nothing really special, a good friend but not someone you'd ever really considered until life fell apart for a time... people you had thought were good friends smiled and offered the occasional shoulder but this is the time when that ultimate friend appears out of no where and is the one who suddenly is there beside you and never leaves. 

And I'm sure the paths to the inner circle of friend-dom is many and varied.

So why the wake up call?

Well it's that whole life thing. You know who these people are, you know how much you care and want them in your life and losing their friendship would be a huge regret. But as your own life gets crazy and busy sometimes we takes these people for granted. We consider spending time with them that point when you've really just talked about yourself for the last 30 minutes without seeing that they've only vaguely answered polite questions on themselves. Friends that email you - you love getting their emails and want to reply but leave it until you get more time - and never quite get that time. People that are quiet and far away for long periods and then suddenly do something or tell you something and you realise that actually you've been on their mind for a while. 

Well all of those 3 things happened to me in the last few days, one friend sent yet another email saying he was thinking of me and checking in - and I realised I hadn't responded to the previous ones. One friend organised something amazing simply because they knew I would truly enjoy it...  And another friend really needed a hug but I had been too wrapped up in my own little world to see it and to realise that I hadn't been spending the time I should have with her. 

As juggling parents we have to prioritise time for kids, partners, parents, siblings, work and if we're lucky time for ourselves. But we absolutely should also make time to be there for our friends, because we love them, because we want to and because we know that when our own lives go to hell they will be the ones that will help put us back together. 

So whilst I can't recommend trying to schedule quality time with all 644 of your Facebook friends, I do sometimes need  to stand back and look at those handful friends that are more like family now and make sure, that as with all the other important people in my life, I make that investment in the relationship because I know, with 150% certainty, I am a better person and can handle more things in my life having them there too....

And in the meantime I'm off to write an email, book some travel and go get some concert tickets... 

A Journey To Juggling Motherhood - some mild soul bearing

My own brand of crazy...

I think its fair to say I've never taken the easy route in life. Looking back I don't know how much is planned, how much was just resourcefulness and how much was just fate... There are some people where things seem to happen to them, or life seems more challenging for them - I think I'm one of those - ok not exactly a revelation for any of you that know me even in the slightest! 

At school I was the kid that decided to do more exams than anybody else, that moved to a college at 16 and ended up teaching myself my A levels. I did Aeronautics and Astronautics at Uni... 100 guys and 3 girls... and we worked our asses off. 

I took a job in an oil company where you could count the women on one hand - strangely one of those was the boss. Well I think she was a woman... 2 weeks into my role she announced to me loudly that any woman that had a baby was a traitor to her company. Right ho... 20 years and 4 kids later - at best I'd like to say I proved her wrong... at worst I'd extend the middle finger and tell her to bite me (although apparently that's not very ladylike ...oops)

The shipped me to Netherlands, then to Africa and then to Leatherhead (How could they?!) - saved only by the people I worked with. I went from not knowing what Regulatory meant one minute to leading the European Regulatory team for a major gas company the next - not too shabby although service was probably a bit half mast under my watch! 

So - education...career... a different and absolutely challenging route. It taught me skills - perserverence, keeping sight of the big picture, proactiveness, creative problem solving, corporate politics, getting things to actually happen when the natural tendency is death by committee. Professional skills, life skills, mothering skills. 

As much as motherhood has taught me to be a better person at work, I would argue as much to say the skills I learnt at work ALLOWED me to become a mother, or at least the Mother I wanted to be. You see whilst my eldest was very much home grown, my youngest three daughters were all adopted. Anyone that's been involved with adoption knows the process can be an incredibly strenuous, invasive, pressurised time when the only way you can get through it is to focus on what you're trying to achieve and find quick and creative ways to solve the myriad of problems you will undoubtedly face en route. 

Now put it in the context that my youngest 3 were all adopted form Russia - not a country known for its clear and transparent legal system. The journey... correction, the fight we had to adopt our 3 girls was undoubtedly the hardest, most strenuous, most frustrating, heart breaking, financially crippling thing we have ever done. It took every ounce of resourcefulness, optimism, focus, perserverence, political machination, organisational ability and energy. I went through experiences I NEVER thought I ever would (remind me to tell you about the Russian medicals - Dear God!) and without the 2 Russian Angels that guided us through (L&J) , I don't think it was a mountain we could have overcome alone. 

And I would go through it again in a heartbeat....

People come to parenthood through many ways, and my experiences along route leads me to believe the traditional get married and pop out 2.2 children to order scenario is actually the least likely. A large number of people have to fight to become parents, have experiences they never thought they would. At times it would be easy to give up but we don't - we persevere. We find strength from somewhere - from our partners, our family and our friends. We make new friends that are going through the same experiences and we just keep going. 

The challenges do not end on coming home. In addition to the normal parenting stuff we had to learn about these children, there was no intuition, we had to help them learn to love us, we had to blend our families together, they had to learn to live again...

I was watching my girlies today - they are normal, cute funny girls that fight like cat and dog and can be incredibly loving (particularly when they want something). They know they are adopted and as far as they are concerned, it currently doesn't seem to bother them. They know it was a fight to bring them here, and they have a limited understanding of what life was like in Russia but in their view it was a bit of a mix up and they were born to the wrong Mummy and we had to come and find them. They watch videos and photos and have their Russian "cousins" - children that were adopted from the same children's home and that kind of shared background and common bond means they are actually family.  

But, like childbirth, the pain of adoption fades as you look at your children, when life finds its new normality, the constant craziness that having 4 young daughters undoubtedly brings, your girlies that have the same worries and joys as any other child.

I am a Juggling Mother and I thank God that I am.....

Roots, Wings and a lot of Grey's Anatomy

OOh what a weekend! Now, to be fair our weekends haven't been the kick back and relax occasions for several years; in truth if I had a weekend to myself I would probably be pacing the kitchen doing a good impersonation of a bored teenager. However Nanny was over for the weekend and Saturday dawned with a pretty tight schedule. The lynch pins were a 10-11am class for Katniss in one town, a 2pm haircut for eldest in another, a combination of children taken on each trip, Tescos delivery (big event in our house!), culminating in a pizza and movie night. Given we live 30 minutes from any town then travel time alone is a major factor in our lives. 

However it all sort of went Pete Tong, base over apex and a dash of catastrophic thrown in for good measure. I should be fuming, depressed or something but as I arrive in Sunday evening I'm actually quite chuffed about things. 

Trying to leave by 9.15 on Saturday for the class, all going spiffingly until Mum walked into the edge of the dishwasher and took and chunk out of her leg that one look alone told you A&E at best... Now a bit of context:  I cannot watch Casualty, Grey's Anatomy, Holby, Doc McStuffins - any of that. Anything more than a grazed knee and I feel quite queasy to say the least. This was quease-inducing of a fine order. The savlon wet wipe (my first attempt at stemming blood flow) was an embarrassing failure only accomplishing covering me further in blood, kitchen roll was not exactly much of an improvement. I eventually found some gauze (thank you EM for your 1st aid kit) but it was my 6 year old that came over took the gauze and knelt besides Nanny and held it down over the wound. She checked it occasionally and asked if Nanny was ok. Completely unfazed by her squeeling sister in the hall she was just at ease and did her thing allowing me to finally get some bandage, strap the wound and get Mum ready to go to A&E....

K did make her class and because I had to take the littlies with me, while waiting we discovered a fab retro coffee shop; so we raised beautiful chintz cups of tea to Nanny, ate chocolate cake and had a lovely chat and giggle. A&E was empty and by the time we got back Mum was arriving home too... Stoic and sturdy still not batting an eyelid she just got on with things and put us all to shame. She complained I wouldn't let her come with me to take eldest to haircut - "its only a flesh wound" - i think not!

And that was the pattern for the weekend. Everything just didn't go to plan, plans continued to crash and burn and then something good came out of them. The Tescos man failed me and didn't turn up - no pizza night. Then the youngest  asked if she could make chicken goujons for tea so at the age of 5, apart from sharp knife and hot pans - she cooked dinner for 4 people... And on and on....

So whilst I don't recommend letting anyone gauge out her shin to the point they'd look good in a biology dissection class, I did learn that sometime Mummy's aren't the ones that know everything in the family. In fact, I'm blessed enough to be raising 4 girls that even at their young ages are demonstrating a strength of character and capableness that leaves me in awe and great excitement as to what they will be able to achieve in the future. So often we think of parenting as the stress of the moment, how to get through today, tomorrow or even this year; but time will pass and the older they get - how our kids need us will change as they become more independent, making their own decisions. As we often take pains to remember we are individuals and not "just parents" so our children are individuals and not "just our kids". And it is indeed the greatest privilege to be able to teach and nurture my girlies, giving them strong roots so they know where they come from but as importantly  strong wings so they can fly....

And in the meantime I'm off to put tennis balls on the corner of any edges in my house. Stuff kiddie proof, I need to make it Nanny proof....

Harry Potter, A Cake... And A Moment of Lucidity

The youngest Harry

A couple of years ago I learnt to respect my limitations. Life had been rather crazy at work... I had started a new role so was having to put it the hours to "come up the curve". To make life more challenging Birthday season was upon us. To put it in context, from the middle of April we have a birthday every other week or so in our family through to October. A time for celebration you may think.... WRONG!!! This, ladies and gents, is where the competition really hots up. The birthday party - get it right and you are mother of the year plus (and more importantly) your kid gets significant popularity points at school combined with post party kudos of people saying how cool it was. Get it wrong and not only do you exhaust yourself for nothing but frankly your kid will have no friends, lose any respect at school and be destined for years of psycho-analytical therapy. Soooooo.... no pressure then. 

This year my eldest decided that she would have a Harry Potter themed sleepover. OK, doesn't sound too crazy... I can do this (bearing in mind I've done fashion shoot parties, designer parties, pool parties, trampolining parties.....) It was all planned... her friends would come for a Hogwarts feast, HP themed games followed by sleeping in the sitting room on airbeds having a Harry Potter marathon on TV. The one fly in the ointment was she wanted a cake in the shape of a Sorting Hat. 

It is fair to say I am not a fantastic baker, my cakes don't exactly rise, they more just "harden" in the oven, don't know why its just a skill. So usually I buy the cake from St Tescos or for the more adventurous requirements gets a "Lady That Can" to do the honours. This year however I was a touch busy, and never quite got around to finding that Lady. So I decided to make the cake. I got up the morning of the party and just got baking - chocolate sponges, probably 8 or so. They weren't epic but I saw them more as building material. I made chocolate butter icing and set about crafting a sorting hat. I chopped and stuck and baked and crafted for neigh on 6 hours with this cake. I even employed wooded kebab sticks for structural assistance to make sure the Sorting Hat could "peak over" at the top. By the time it was all covered in chocolate butter icing with a face applied, I was flipping impressed. This would be Outstanding.

That evening... kids arrived. They were greeted with wizardy music (HP soundtrack) and each given their own cape and wand on entering. the kitchen was decorated with candles for the Feast (Roast Chicken dinner served up in cauldrons followed by traditional puddings and ice cream) and let us not forgot the hilarious game of pin the scar on Harry. Parents had stayed - they were enjoying wine, I had scored a home run and the cake was yet to come. Silence fell, cameras ready as I emerged for the utility room with the giant Sorting Hat of a cake.

The parents faces were my first clue something was wrong. Somewhat taken aback was the expression. The kids tilted their heads to one side and giggled interrupting the flow of Happy Birthday. I was completely confused as to why my creation hadn't brought forth gasps of admiration. And then it struck me as I saw it through their eyes. In fact I had spent 6 hours of my life chopping, sticking, baking and crafting a cake that for all intents and purposes looked EXACTLY like a giant Turd. My assertions its tasted great could not overcome the psychological barrier the crowd had developed on tucking into this creation. 

To say her party has notorious was a mild  understatement, it was indeed talked about for some time... 

So whilst I don't recommend force-feeding your kids cake that will give them horrific nightmares for years to come, I did learn an important lesson. In my bid to be the best parent I could be, I overlooked one simple truth.... my own ability. I am not a baker, my intentions may be honourable BUT my talents and abilities fall short. Recognise your weaknesses, those things you're not good - that doesn't mean Never give them an airing there's just a time and a place. Accept that you can't be great at everything and you know what.... That's OK... because there will be other things you are great at and you they, my lovely friends, are the things you want to be remembered for. 

And in the meantime I'm off to find the number of a Lady That Can because birthday time is fast approaching and the requests for a space-themed "Pink rocket cake" could be a stratospheric, mortifying disaster otherwise....

Embarrassment, Dignity ... And A Tub of Ben & Jerrys

So in my 20s I learnt that extreme mortification doesn't stop in your teen years. At this time, I had left Uni and was working in London. I, along with several 1000 closest of my friends, used to commute daily into Waterloo and then I'd opt to walk to Aldwych just so I could walk across Waterloo Bridge, come rain or shine undoubtedly the best view in London.... Ever. Latte in hand, sunnies on - I cut a dashing picture I can tell you....

On this particular day, it was beautiful weather. I'd walked to work and had a pretty good day once inside the office; I met my deadlines, had a few genius ideas. And as the day closed not even the commute home on British Rail could dampen my mood - hop skippety jump.

As I arrived back at Waterloo, safe to say it was heaving - the world's masses heading back to suburbia. Mood still shining but realities of life were making themselves felt - I really needed a pee but didn't have 20p to use the Ladies. Not to be deterred, instant brainwave - nip upstairs in Burger King and use their facilities - voila! A free pee - could life get any better?! Now loos in fast food restaurants are not normally my favourite hangout - the ones in Waterloo are designed specifically to ensure people only use them as an absolute last resort. The game is, get in there - attend to business - and get the hell out without touching anything - even standing on your tippy toes to minimise surface contact. Mission achieved I had a few minutes to saunter casually over to the platform.

Nothing could dampen my mood; oh yeah baby I was on a roll. I walked out of the loos upstairs and down through the restaurant out onto the platform. Life was good, I was living the 20-something dream, I smiled at people and "worked that walk" through the crowded station and onto the crowded platform. I calculated if I wanted a seat I should work my way as far as possible along the platform....

I was about 2/3rds of the way down when a sweet, elderly lady approached me. I instantly stopped, social kindness oozing out of every pore as to how I would help this wonderful woman whereupon she politely informed me that I had my skirt wedged right up into the top of my knickers.... 

Well sweet lord and mother of all things merciful. If I could, in that moment, I would have happily thrown myself under the oncoming train or at the very least emigrated to a commune in Istanbul. I had gone from as happy and perky as a Pharrell Williams track when I only saw good and positive in the world to a very, very bad place to be as reality hit me. I did wonder why everyone was smiling at me as I had strode through the packed Burger King, heaving station and crowded platform - I just thought it was a case of smile and the world will smile with you - well apparently the whole world did. 

If that woman had never told me, I would have carried on in such a positive mood, I may have found a seat on the train, sat down and things may have naturally re-arranged themselves leaving me permanently ignorant but genuinely happy in my day. In fact, nothing factual changed whatsoever in that split moment between before I knew my indiscretion and afterwards... other than the knowledge the entire world had seen my Marks and Spencer's big-girl pants covering an arse that really should have seen the inside of a gym more often. 

It wasn't supposed to happen anymore - I was a together woman, in control who had all the answers (in addition to my large, well publicised backside) This is the nightmare of teen years, first dates, awkward puberty. However the difference this time is that I wasn't 15. So what did I actually do? The only thing possible at that time - I styled it out as best I could. Without batting an eyelid, I whipped down the back of my skirt, flashed this woman a dashing smiled, thanked her as is she had simply given me a free newspaper and carried on my way - back straight, head held high and sunglasses firmly covering my eyes. 

So whilst I don't recommend displaying your best M&S tidy whities to a large subsection of South East commuters, I did learn that no matter how old you are, or how grown up you think you are, these things will continue to happen. I will probably continue to slip, trip, fall, spill, break, snot sneeze, break wind and have clothing failure at the most horrific timing possible. But , unlike the 13-year old me, the world won't end, I can rectify the situation, hold my head high and keep my dignity. I can laugh about it afterwards with friends and quietly cringe inwardly when I think no one is looking. 

But more than anything, when my beautiful girlies become those mortified, excruciatingly embarrassed, massively sensitive teenagers, I can rest assured that my own memories of such feelings still burn bright within me and instead of scolding and telling them to grow up,  I will be able to look on sympathetically and offer a tub of reassuring Ben and Jerry's - 2 spoons. And being able to relate to them, to show them no matter how awful they think something is that their mother has done alot worse,  is why I will never regret bearing my ass to Waterloo... 

Where's Your Fairy Godmother When You Need Her?

So I've learnt I need a Fairy Godmother. Not of the pumpkin to carriage variety, mouse to footman and Prince Charming "happy ever after" kind of Fairy GM,  I'm way past that stage and to be honest the thought of going out to a Ball these days - dear God, I'd rather be at home with feet up, a Tescos Indian Takeaway in a bag, bottle of Pinot Grigio and a darn good movie.... whoo hoo!

No, I'm more after the modern variety of Fairy GM, the sort that can perhaps handle the paperwork that seems to gather with frightening speed in many piles on every flat surface. I normally associate filing with businesses, but seriously I think the filing in my house could rival that of a multi national corporation.... 

And then there's bill paying - I'm sure my Fairy GM could handle the relentless transfer of cash out of the house, I'm sorry - did I say relentless? That was actually an understatement. Keeping on top of the deadlines is one thing, if she had the urge to magic some extra cash into the account, who's gonna complain? 

Then we get started on the laundry... if clothes could magically re-appear washed, ironed, folded, sorted and in the drawers then I swear life would be much less stressful and I could have way more time to spend hanging out with my girlies and doing all the fun things in life. There would be no arguments over who's knickers were who's, where was the favourite top and where on earth did the 137 pairs of black leggings that we have bought over the last 2 months disappear to...?

So onto the shopping - Tescos online is one thing but permanently stocked cupboards - I may even enjoy cooking again. Uhhmmm... cooking, ok I'm good with the fun baking with girlies or the special meals or new recipe experiments but for mundane, arriving home late from the various extracurricular activities to find dinner waiting in the oven then I'm sure life would just spring by that bit happier... Especially if the Fairy GM just magic'ed away the washing up afterwards.

There you go... I'm just looking for a woman that will organise my admin, fund my account, keep up with eternal laundry and keep cupboards stocked, food cooked and cleared away and if she could love me, put up with my hanging out with my girlies, getting my work done in between and generally just handle everything that would be fab. Easy peasey....

So basically I'm not sure I need the dizzy heights of a Disney Fairy Godmother with wand and sparkles but thinking about it - it seems like what I actually need is "just" a mother... a good old fashioned Mum on hand, at my permanent beck and call. Thinking back to the teen years (and those in my 20s after Uni - sorry about that Mum!) all of that stuff used to just magically happen. I never had to worry about anything except keeping up grades at school and where/when I was meeting my mates. And now its my turn, all that stuff is a pain in the butt and even though I try and get as much done after bedtime it does take away time I could spend with my girls. But you know what - its part of their childhood, of having a Mum that just does that stuff. Nobody wants to be taken for granted, treated as a servant or however you think of it, but my kids will have years ahead of them where they will have no choice but to be responsible. 

So whilst I don't recommend abdicating teaching your kids good manners and appreciation, I firmly believe its part of the gift of being a Mum, to be your kid's Fairy Godmother that just makes all this stuff magically happen so they can concentrate on the important stuff of being a kid... That doesn't mean I can't prepare them for life, teach them how to do these things and as they get older, allow them to take a greater share in the responsibility of running their own lives but before I know it they will be off and I will be left looking at empty laundry baskets and empty bedrooms. So I'm not sure who's the beneficiary of the gift, of showing how much you love your kids by taking care of them and dare I say it, indulging them when you know you probably shouldn't.  

In the meantime I'm off to ring my mum, thank her for being my Fairy Godmother and see if she fancies clearing some of this paperwork for me. 

The Miracle of Light... And Blowing Raspberries At Your Sisters

Its never to late to learn more gratitude! So I, like thousands of others have been without power for the weekend...again. We had no power over Christmas so when it went off again on Friday evening we were more or less prepared. However what it does do is give you a very stark reminder of how much we rely on electrickity, as it is referred to at our place (yeah thanks Peppa Pig). Not only were there no lights, we had no heating, hot water, our phones didn't work as they were all singing and dancing ones that need power. Our mobiles didn't get any reception not that we could charge them (along with ipads and latops) combined with no internet. So what's the big deal i hear you cry? Man Up!

Well frankly it was the whole kid thing... We tend to be a bit annoyingly smug about how moving out of town means our kids watch way less TV and are out in the garden etc etc blah blah blah blah. Well ok.. smug rules in Summer, in winter our kids are right up there with TV, ipads, laptops and a whole host of charged handheld units and general mind numbing electric items... All gone. At Christmas time we were lucky in that we had the novelty factor, kids loved the candles, the party games, the eternal pasta (gas hobs rule!), talking about olden times... it was indeed an adventure. This time they arrived en masse Saturday morning and announced that they did not want to play Victorians again. Weather was too atrocious to do anything so we were trapped. Every suggestion of something to do involved power. I held off letting them use any remaining charge on laptop knowing it would be more needed for when it got dark. At evening time I proudly produced said laptop to find they'd watched a movie on it earlier when I was out and now it was as dead as a dodo....

Now this isn't to say the weekend was a disaster, in the end they had a good time... especially when the sun came out today so out came the bikes. But as a busy mother you forget how much you rely on your routines and your conveniences. At one awful moment there it looked like I wouldn't get my morning coffee - no power would be the least of peoples worries! Without power - new routines are required, you have to switch off autopilot and think. Your stock answers for "I'm bored" are just not applicable and I was left standing looking at the girls looking back at me, each with that look that just said "Well???"

So what I did do was spend a whole heap of time with the girls, we coloured, I filled the sink with water and soap and they had great fun washing up . We tidied (less fun), we went out to Smith and Western for food (way more fun). When it go dark, we lit candles and they danced around to music making each other giggle and when they went to bed they all set off with their little lanterns and all piled into our beds and we slept in one big bundle so no body got scared. I couldn't be sidetracked by the laundry or working or phone calls or texts or emails or television or ... or... or...

So whilst I don't recommend disconnecting yourself from the mains and living a humble existance off the land I do think perhaps I should take time to be very grateful for those things in life I take for granted. I have continual gratitude and appreciation for the miracle of hitting a switch and light coming on, turning a tap and hot water coming out, of cold fridges, efficient washing machines and Tescos online,. However what I am even more grateful for are my beautiful little girls that, at the end of the day, can amuse themselves for hours blowing raspberries at each other, by arranging little lanterns around the house, that will sing you songs and put on little shows and at the end of the day, have their absolute worst horrific fears in life be completely taken away by being able to curl up and sleep in bed with Mummy... if only life were truly that simple.