Blue and Yellow Treasures

To say that the charity shops have been bare recently would be an understatement. There has been nothing to catch my eye other than a black dress or two (for work). I was beginning to have some serious withdrawls!

So, I had the weekend off and since it wasn't the worst day of the year-weatherwise-we(I)decided we should get out of the house. Off to Spalding we went! I managed to find a few goodies, but when I got home, I noticed that my theme for the day must have been blue and yellow. How does that happen?

I managed to find an amazing blue enamelware colander (for some flowers on the patio this summer and a steal at £3), a cute little blue spotty jug, a couple of gorgeous opaline canisters from Belgium (for only 40p each!) and a cute PYREX bowl. The bowl has measuring lines inside. Anyone ever see these before? Also, the 'Pyrex' and the mold number are in reverse on the bottom. Strange, eh? But, I love it and since Pyrex is a bit of a rarity here, I was thrilled to have it for only 75p.

So there you have it, the sum total of my shopping for the weekend. I did spy some AMAZING jewellery at an antique shop that I will be revisiting in the not too distant future...Mother's Day is just around the corner, no?

The Journey

Wow...has it been a long and strange journey, my life with this boy. I adore him and want to strangle him all at the same time. I cringe when he cocks things up, and dance with joy when he gets it right. I want to protect him from all the badness in the world, but know that he simply must be allowed to learn the lessons that await him.

It's hard work, this growing up. Trying to make decisions that aren't completely daft, while still being a teenager and doing all the things that kids do like playing XBoxa , hanging with friends and listening to music your parents don't understand (for the record, I like most of it as long as they don't scream). Add to that a  healthy mix of skateboarding and BMXing, and you have the picture. The boy has lots of interests, none of which concern school (with the exception of photography classes). School has been a real struggle, complicated by behavioural issues that have caused him to be a bit behind in his coursework at times. Not BAD stuff, but bad enough.

At 16, kids here are expected to make the decision about what they want to do with the rest of their lives. They must make the decision to go on to 6th form at their school or to college (like the last two years of high school), or leave school and get a job. Justin decided the college is for him, they have an excellent photography course, and it would allow him some freedom to have a job, etc. I have spent the last few months worried sick that he wouldn't make the cut. His grades aren't fab. His attitude is holding him back in secondary school. But, I know his promise. I remember. I can see the pure talent that boy has for taking amazing photos. I understand a delicate artistic soul that is squashed by scientific, number-oriented boobs. And as every mom, I want him to be successful and happy. So he applied for college. I held my breath. And then there was the interview this week.

He took along a portfolio of some of his work. The instructor was very impressed with his work and offered him a provisional placement in a level 3 photography course! Now, it is provisional as his grades are borderline and he will have to work his behind off to make them better, or he will have to do an extra year (and we do not want that). He left that interview a new man. He can see the light at the end of the tunnel and is now willing to do the work needed to get him that placement. It is really a new beginning for him...the start of a new chapter in his life. The beginnings of adulthood are just around the corner!

Please keep the guy in your thoughts over the next few months as big things begin to happen for him. It is all very exciting!

Falling Down

The idea for this blog post has been rattling around in my head for quite some time, but I have declined to post what I was thinking as you never know who might be reading you blog (cue crazy-psycho ex-husband and his family). But the time has come. I need to say what is on my mind.

My blog presence has suffered over the last few months. The craziness that is my life killed my mojo and my will to carry on with any pretense that things were ok.

It all began when I got a tremendous head cold in November. I lost my voice and was a giant bag of misery for WEEKS. Then, there was complete stupidity concerning my son and it was the longest 5 days of my life (I will spare you the gory details). THEN, it was Christmas. Work went mad. I was still sick, the stress of the son's issues, missing the rest of my family and my still struggling to 'get it' at my job in retail was almost my undoing. If I hadn't had the week before Christmas off, I might have just cracked.

As you can imagine, things suffered. My diet went to hell. I put weight back on. My health went to pot. My muse? Well, she went into hibernation.

The good news is, things have improved around here. The job is still touch-and-go, but I am getting there. We sometimes fall down. Life is not fair and the good guy does not always win. It is a fact. What you do with what is thrown at you makes the difference. Today, I choose to rise above it all.

Merry Christmas Madness

Ah, what I wouldn't give for one more old-fashioned family Christmas. No chestnuts roasting on an open fire. No Christmas pageant, no carols sung by the family while gathered round the piano. Our family gatherings were more-how shall we say-random. Any year might well see the 'orphan' dishwasher from Mom's workplace asleep on the sofa in my step-dad's bathrobe, Mom's boss glaring across the table at Daddy as they hated each other from waaaaaay back in the day. There will be a pot of chili, maybe beans and cornbread and definitely some of Mama's home made fudge.

Who knows, Uncle Jack might find his way from the open road to our house, bottle of whiskey in hand, just in time for Christmas Eve revelry. He might well bring along his ex, coz we like her alot and she always brings cheese and sausage platters with her. Aunt Sis might come over too...just to add to the fun! And with any luck, it will be a year where my mom and step-dad are actually speaking to each other (one can always hope, can't they?).

Hopefully, that lot will keep it down to a dull roar so that I can pile up in front of the television to watch some good old movies, maybe The Love Boat will have a Christmas special, or maybe, just maybe...Donny and Marie!

Whatever you do, however you do it (or even if you don't)...make it a day to enjoy. Make the most of it and remember...you have folks out here who love you!

Meeting Santa

This is my little Boogie. He got to meet Santa last week. Isn't he growing into the most gorgeous little boy?

This photo reminded me of maybe my most favourite Christmas/Santa story ever. When I was 19 or so, I used to babysit a little boy called 'Booger'. He was four and his name was really Dewayne, but his mama, who was the maintenance lady at my apartments, called him Booger and so did everyone else. Anyway, it was close to Christmas and we spent alot of time making construction paper and glitter ornaments, colouring, baking cookies...you know, that fun leading-up-to-Christmas-keeping-the-kids-busy sort of stuff. A few times a week Daddy would stop by for a visit. We would sometimes walk over to the coffee shop and have a cup of coffee, sometimes he would pick us up and take us to the big thrift store down that road. But sometimes, he would have a little bag of toys or cars for Booger.

One Saturday morning, Booger's mama said to me 'Did you take Booger to see Santa?' My reply was of course no, but it was a mystery. He was insistent that he had indeed met Santa and upon further questioning he said, 'Mama, Santa is Miss Hope's daddy. He comes to her house and takes us out for a drive. I know he is Santa coz he has a white beard, glasses and he brings me toys.'

Who can argue with that sort of reasoning?

The Tiny Tree

Once upon a time, I was a suddenly-single mom. I won't go into the messiness of what happened, but will say that my world was shattered. Everything I had ever wanted or known was gone. Thank goodness for Daddies that step in to make it all better...as much as they can. Then the inevitable happened...it was Christmas-time. Six-year old girls do not understand 'Mommy has the blues and cannot imagine putting up a tree this year'. Unable to muster the desire to put up our old tree, off I went to buy us a new tree. A tree all our own.

I stood in the middle of the store, overwhelmed by all the glory. I was trying to hold myself together and here were all these decorations, all these folks celebrating. Joy was not a word in my vocabulary. Then it happened. I broke down and cried. Right in the middle of the store. Embarrassed, I picked out a tiny little tree, no more than 12 inches high, and made my way to the tills. We may not have the biggest tree, but we would have a tree.

That little tree was with me till I moved to England, all those years later. I bought little lights for it, tiny decorations and a bit of tinsel, but that first year was the only year it was THE tree. Soon, my heart healed, I moved on, but I kept that tiny tree. I called it the Charlie Brown tree.

I kept it as it was tradition. It became my office tree. It became a symbol of how far I had come, and how far I could go. I have tiny trees these days, but only because I like them...and maybe, just maybe, they remind me of that first tiny tree.

The Smallest Gift

So many years ago, when a little freckle-faced girl was but 6 yrs old, there was a proper Christmas mystery at her house in the country. Of all the packages under the tree, there was only one tiny one for her. No more than 3 inches across, it paled in comparison to those of her brother and sister.

No opportunity was missed to point out her lack of gifts. She wondered and pondered, questioning if she had indeed been so bad that this would be the only gift she would receive. Brother and sister missed not one moment to remind her that she had the smallest gift, that surely it would be all she would receive that year. Tears were shed.

Then there was Christmas morning. The tree skirt buried under a mountain of presents, as many for the little girl as for Big Sister and Brother. Mama, Daddy and Santa had finally come through. She HAD been good enough!

I am sure I got lots of great gifts that year. I vaguely remember a doll and maybe an easy-bake oven, but the only gift I REALLY remember is this little sachet gingerbread brooch. This cutie is what was hiding in that tiny box, and I treasure with all my heart. I keep it tucked away all year long and when I bring it out at Christmas, I wear it with love and pride.

Thanks for stopping by. More Christmas memories to come!