Oh, Would You Look At That

...midnight has slipped by again, pulling the bed covers with it.

Time fleeting, flighting, fernickity. So time shall be the prompt.

My sons way back when they were still known as the Hobbits, discovering Bronze Age Scottish 'things' in the land around Cairnpapple, or maybe just rabbit shits. Yeah, probably just rabbit shits or chocolate raisins as they used to call it. No I don't eat chocolate raisins any more, funny that.

Two hits on the time machine there - reminiscing of when my sons were little squishables and one of our visits to the Bronze Age site not far from home, Cairnpapple.

Teenage Kicks

I feel I should begin to make some altar or shrine in front of "Mountain Hare of January" in order that I don't feel quite so ridiculous admiring it every day. Then someone, in a rather good Facebook group I'm part of, posts an actual, real life video of a real life mountain hare, in all his (or her) real life twitchy nose glory. Maybe I need to add a rabbit to the menagerie but I think with dog, cats and gecko it might be overkill.

Two days until the Twin Teens go back to school. I've decided that's their new moniker, no one was getting the 1 of 2/ 2 of 2 reference and individually they'll still be Eldest and Youngest (separated by a whole minute of doctor fishing around in the womb to pull the other out).

I miss the days of Hobbits though, small, cute and with large (if not hairy) feet. The fact they now take a larger shoe size at age 14 than my 5'10" dad did as an adult shows that latter distinctive feature is, as my mother would have said, showing they "have a good grip of Scotland".

Now we've entered a new phase.

Fourteen seems a huge jump from thirteen where I could still imagine them as my little men. I now have conversations in grunts or revolving around computer games I have no knowledge of (managed to impress Eldest and his friends by my "skills" as a sniper in a Star Wars PC game - this is what it has come to!)  I don't really mind it to be honest, I have that guilty mum itch that they've spent too long on said computer games during this Christmas holiday although considering it's been blowing a hoolie outside the entire time I'll allow it.

I can't really throw them out to play with - sorry - hang out with friends in case one of them ends up being carried away to Norway in the wind.

Eldest, in particular, has morphed into The Boy Who Only Leaves His Room For Food.  Yet as his best friend moved down to Liverpool a while back, and he enjoys linking up with him online to play games and chat, I can't complain. Actually, I quite like some of the games he plays, all this city building and stuff, not Minecraft, that's "for babies" (they still play it - presumably sarcastically.) He was asking how they navigated the sea in medieval times on one of his trips to the kitchen.

I sometime think how lovely it would have been to have another baby. I think I regret not having another yet what I really regret is that I have no way to travel back in time and enjoy some of our days, when they were tiny. I'm glad no one can take that experience away from me, I'm glad I stayed at home with them but I just wish for another day.

Hobbits: Jaysus mother would you grab some make-up or something,
you look like the living dead. Anyone would think you hadn't slept -
Me: -------

Those Handsome Boys Of Mine

I make no excuse for being proud of my boys.  We've been through so much and on this day when they've become teenagers, despite driving me mad sometimes, they have turned into a pair of fine young lads.  Unfortunately the behaviour of their father is a constant blight but we manage to get past the games and nonsense with barely a blip.

If I end my days know as a good mum and loved by my boys then that is all I can ask for.  This might be a tough few months ahead but I can think on that to get me through.

We three.

Whaur ye bin?*

Summer has gone, the treadmill still runs as fast and this time we have the amazingly full schedule of two high school boys to deal with.  Thankfully, two weeks in, they love it, much more challenging than primary school but that isn't hard; it doesn't feel as though they learn much of anything in that final year.

Primary 7 is an exercise in caging wild animals and now they've been released, all minds working at one hundred miles an hour and hormones crashing in to each other.

It's the last day of August and already the wind brings a nip of Autumn with it.  Already summer seems so distant (yet we still have our holiday in October to enjoy - yay!)

This summer we did this:

And a bit of this:

Some of this;

And of course, this:

But mostly the boys did this:

Which they absolutely loved and will hopefully be doing again next year.

Most memorable of all, we visited my dad's memorial bench at Fintry Bay, Millport.  Whiling away a beautiful afternoon, enjoying the perfect view and thinking of how much he would have enjoyed it.

Add to that, this is the summer I finally received CBT for my CFS and that is AOK.


*Don't think I really need to translate from the Scots but just in case it's very simple - Where (have) you been?

So - This Happened

About two or so years ago both Hobbits decided they would like pets of their own. I had the dog, the cats...well they had themselves and whoever had a warm lap on offer but the boys, geared on by their friends' pet ownership, wanted to take care of something by themselves.

As they already unquestioningly help care for the current pets I was fairly open to this suggestion.  Now what would the pet be?

Having had a guinea pig & hamster I knew the ropes as far as those animals were concerned.  Rabbits, well I've never thought they particularly liked small people that much & remembering my aunt's beast, who would eat the curtains & attack any ankle that dared pass by, we quickly ruled that out.  I would have loved another guinea pig, Brownie (for that was her name) would cuddle into my cardi as I did my homework, making those adorable squeaks as she chatted away to me.  What can I say, being an only child sucked.

Rules were set out, the pets would be each boy's responsibility.  Before they were chosen each boy would also have to show a good knowledge of care.  I've raised the boys to understand animals have a right to be cared for properly & it is something we are all passionate about. 

Eldest decided on a hamster, along came Dragonborn & he does a good job of looking after him.  I showed him how to clean the cage twice & Eldest has done everything himself since, more than occasionally getting annoyed when I say "Have you remembered...?" Eye roll & sarcastic inflect on response "Yes, mum!"

Youngest, however, set his heart on a gecko of all things.  Oh crikey, thought I, how would you take care of that?  Unlike Eldest I would have no tips or prior experience.  Youngest was set the task to become a gecko expert & had to wait until I felt he was old enough for the this.

Patience pays off & welcome to the clan Arby the leopard gecko!

She's very sweet & has taken to perching on Youngest's shoulder when out of her vivarium.  Incredibly nosy, she'll come running up to see who's come into the room & will tap the glass with her fingernails to be let out.  Youngest hovers around the thermometer,  updating nearly hourly until I told him, unless its too hot or too cold don't worry!  The live hoppers are fairly stupid, we covered up their pen to stop them banging the side with their heads.  All in all she is a great addition to the family.

Holidays At Home

Not home home as such but this year, instead of a solitary day on the Isle of Cumbrae where we go to remember my dad we spent an entire, delicious week.

Just like the holidays I had at my boys' age only colder, it being a Scottish Easter and much earlier this year than last.  So it ended up that as we were leaving the (very slightly) warmer weather was arriving.

Still, the boys managed the obligatory and much fun cycle round the island, I did my best before the CFS kicked in - I'm really feeling it now but glad I pushed through, sometimes consequences are worth it!  We spent the days roaming the town of Millport us and the dog, exploring everywhere, rockpools, beaches, ice cream at the Ritz Cafe.  Bliss.  And by evening, when tiredness washed over me at least, we played board games and did jigsaws because we're rock n' roll like that.

Millport, Isle of Cumbrae, the rocks are made for clambering

Three islands in one, taken from Cumbrae, looking over to the isle of Bute with Arran in the background.

On a clear day Arran makes a spectacular view.

The castle on Wee Cumbrae island, privately owned and for sale the island is which is not really a good thing.

The view from the bay where my dad rests, I always think he'd enjoying it greatly.

Eleven Plus

This was the state of things eleven years ago.

A total of 10.4 lbs of baby, four weeks early (thank you pre-eclampsia for sticking me in hospital during the busiest of times!)  Actually, if we're going to be particularly specific this photo was taken the day after so I should be writing this tomorrow but as the boys' birthday is today...oh shush you idiot!

At this point they were fresh out of SCBU hence the odd skin tone and funny lip colour.  They were the biggest babies in there and that is saying something.  I wasn't happy until I had them in the goldfish bowl cot beside me and here they were.

Hindsight is a great thing.  Had I known then I'd probably have decided to become a single parent rather than continue with a marriage to someone who was still at that point pulling the wool over my bleary eyes.  These two tiny babies showed up and my life felt worth something.

Now they are all limbs and big feet, awkward in their growing bodies and expanding minds.  There is so much to learn I can only hope I have done a good enough job.

I Know It Has Been A While

But just look at where we've been.  

There was real, live sun and warmth and everything - vitamin D get in my bones.  We climbed into volcanoes like some weird tribute to Torville and Dean.

Hmmn, ok just take my word for it - it was a proper volcano, Google "Montana Roja" if you are a doubting Thomas, ner ner see!

The Hobbits (as was) grew fins.

We found (semi) precious stones - not emerald but very sweet Olivina - like little mining gnomes and we didn't have to go into a mine, they're on the beach!

We lived in a yellow submarine (if only for an hour) 100'/31m underneath the Atlantic.

All in all for one entire week the world was all right again.

And then to home.

*sigh*

Truthfully the government could do everyone a favour and give them one whole week away somewhere sunny and hot (it was 80 degrees and after a while our weedy Scottish bodies got used to the oven feeling).  It really did pick up and get rid of the grind of life in a grey climate.  I mean, I managed to climb a flippin' volcano - all 400+m of it.  I have CFS, I shouldn't be able to do that.  Ok so I spent the rest of the day (and every afternoon) slumped by the pool but I was up in the morning and not zombie at all.  We were able to do such fun things and although I'm still recovering it was worth it.  Please but if I can scrabble enough money together to go away again next year.

Details

This boy is having a hard time of it just now.  I don't quite know how to help him and I'm putting this down to growing pains as he stretches once again in body and mind:  finding out who he is and wearing trainers that I can now borrow.

As Youngest Hobbit he has always been the comedian, the one I needn't worry about, the one who was a certainty in everything.  While his brother sailed emotional waves this boy kept calm with the occasional burst of fire.

Over the past week he has been tetchy, crying and taking offence at the slightest thing, distant one minute and super-huggy the next.  His brother meanwhile is the same old Eldest Hobbit, he has pretty much discovered his personality and we do have a rocky time with him sometimes - he just doesn't make life easy for himself when he goes in one of his strops but that is who he is and we love him for it.  For the majority of the time he is artistic, imaginative and articulate.  

So Eldest Hobbit and I will wait and see where Youngest goes next.  They have Cub camp this weekend, a whole weekend to myself!  Not that I'll do anything, this PVF has made me very boring.  That could be my new personality; boring, stick-at-home woman.  Let's hope, like the growing pains, it doesn't last.

P.S.  Through another blog I read I came across this P52 project far too late in the day to jump in and be involved.  But as I am always looking for challenges (see the 30 years Days fiasco and I was much better in the days of 26 Things) then I thought I'd take the titles and see where it went.  Who knows I might just catch up with them.  So I'll add the P52 tag as they are meant to inspire photos and we'll see where we get to, hopefully the originator doesn't mind me messing up her whole system.

Such a Perfect Day

I'm glad I spent it with you...

During Easter we spent a beautiful day on the Isle of Cumbrae, visiting the town and, of course, the bay where my dad rests.  It has been three years now.

We discussed memorials, why people have them.  It was pointed out that my Dad, beloved Grandpa did not have one.  This was soon rectified.  I wonder if it will be there next year.

And then nature provided it's own heart shaped sign for us (spotted by Eldest after we'd spent some time sourcing perfect stones for the other one.)

I didn't feel or sense my Dad at the bay that strongly, this worried me.  Until I went to the town and there, near the Garrison, I could picture him walking - see it so clearly.  The time he forgot his glasses case and we had to search around, it was where he had left it on the Garrison wall.  


I know he can be at peace there, that his best memories involved the island.  No matter when we go I hope he remains where he was happiest.  At this point what others may believe or think is irrelevant -  I know he is there, I know he looks out for the boys and, importantly, they know too.


I would say until next year but if I could I'd love to go stay there for a week or so.  Like old times, take a bike out, ride around the island.  For the first time in a long while I relaxed, the stress and illness seemed to disappear for a day at least.


Sometimes I gladly suffer a few bad days if only to capture such moments as this.

Apron Strings

We are at that stage:  the Hobbits are getting to the age where freedom beckons and I have to take a back seat.  I do so sadly but gladly.

Last week, after school, a group of Hobbit friends met up at the local leisure centre.  They had booked a football pitch for a kick-about.  Each boy (and two girls - brave of them) had brought their money for the pitch and lunch.  No parents were allowed and the one mother who did hover nearby caused her son to back out and go home.

I won't pretend that I did clock watch a little.  This is the point where they take bigger responsibility for their own safety and I have to step away.  This is the point where they start to make their own decisions and mistakes and importantly learn from them.  It is frightening as it feels like we have been trained to imagine the bogeyman behind every corner.

I remember being warned not to go near certain people in the village I grew up in.  The danger has always been there, the paranoia is just greater now.

Take a deep breath.  At their age I would walk the couple of miles to the town with a friend or two.  We would go off adventuring up by the river bank without a risk assessment being done.

I'm trying to quell my fear.  They're good Hobbits, they ask permission to do things, they always let me know where they'll be.  I've tried to instil the knowledge that honesty is rewarded with more freedom and it seems to have worked.  Certainly they understand why.

Little squidgy arms and legs have been replaced by long limbs and wide shoulders.  Faces have lost the apple cheeks and are lengthening and narrowing.  My babies are growing and a (not so) little part of me wishes I could have one day back when they were little enough to fit, one on each hip.  Such things do not exist and I have to enjoy this next part.  Loosen the apron strings that some are holding so tight it'll strangle their little darlings.

This next part - probably meaning girls, teenage years, that difficult bridge between kid and adult.  I try not to think - trouble.  Youngest Hobbit insists that 10 is *nearly* teen.  I tell him not to rush.

The adult part is long enough.

I really need to think of a new nickname for them as Hobbit seems not to fit - cute, hairy and big feet, yes but now not so small.

10 Years

It seems like such a long time but it feels as quick as the blink of an eye in reality.


My boys hit the double figures today, no more single digit birthdays for them.  Neither are particularly impressed by this fact, indeed Eldest Hobbit asked about when he would hit triple digits and if it would one day be possible for people to live into four digit birthdays.


Our usual day out in lieu of a birthday party has been scuppered by illness (not just mine for once.)  So tomorrow will do, still going to make them snowflake brownie cake and get them Domino pizza for dinner.


There has been so much that has happened but I have to say that I like very much how they are turning out.  Neither follow the herd, maybe Eldest could do with more confidence but they have sensible heads (*always* ask questions about everything!) and fantastic imaginations.  I have every hope that their future is going to be very good indeed.

Elephant Juice

The Royal Institute Lecture always fascinates the Hobbits into loving science and this year, despite a boring sounding theme of "the brain" is no different.  It might not have the ooh and ahh of space, the universe and all that lies within but wonderful stuff it is indeed!

Magic and science have never been so hand in hand as in the room that mucks around with your perspective.

(If you don't know what I'm on about, go on to the BBC website and look it up on iPlayer - learn something fantastic.)

((Elephant juice, when spoken, makes the same mouth shape as saying I love you.  Go on, try it.)

It's Oh So Quiet...

And also Day 4879 25 on the Movie Challenge thing which I am determined to finish in the same way one might chew relentlessly on a tough steak because be damned if it is going to get the better of me.


Anyway...


My Hobbits are away this week, gone to camp in Northumberland with their classmates.  So there will be lots of this...

And maybe some of this...

But without the sunshine, happy feeling.

Day 25: Movie with the most beautiful scenery  - when I was little, an only child (or lonely goatherd if you will) I adored this film, in particular the first couple of minutes when the cameras sweep across the Alps.  I've been to Salzburg, I've driven around and about the Alps.  I loved every minute of it and long to do it again...all because of this film.

When you think about it The Alps and Salzburg deserve a credit in the cast list.

Plus, as mentioned earlier, the only child desperately longed to be part of a huge, loving family.  Wins in all directions.

Eight years ago on this night...

I was lying in a hospital bed feeling very, very large and cumbersome and wishing that the two little aliens tumbling about in my vast stomach would come out. 

They needed to you see, even though it was a few weeks before they were due their grand entrance. 

There I lay,tucked into uncomfortable scratchy nylon sheets in a too warm ward surrounded by horrendous decor (really would it be too much to choose a *nice* colour?)  Alone, which was prophetic in a way, wanting to see my babies so much.  Waiting and waiting for them to decide to begin the twinge that would indicate things were happening and the gel (oh they don't tell you about where they put the *gel* do they!) had finally worked.  Because if it didn't work then it would need to be under the knife.

My mind chased with thoughts and dreams and wishes.  I could never have presumed what would eventually happen although the signs were already there.  My priorities had changed, from the first moment the stick turned blue on a cool day in early June.  My priorities had changed indeed and left him behind.  The desires of a nurturing soul are much different from a selfish soul and too often they cannot be brought together.

I slept that night, despite the monitors strapped to my stomach drumming out the beat of their hearts.  Or perhaps because of that.  Because for every night since I have given thanks that they were born healthy, hearty and whole.  Two tough little cookies; two wonderful little boys; two totally independent and interesting Hobbits.  And I am so glad I am their mother, I am so glad I've gotten to know such little men.

All He Wants For Christmas...

Just dance...gonna be okay...

The Hobbits had a dance recital at school this week.  Part of their gym class I suppose, I usually hear fragments of what is going on until the last minute but their gym teacher gives each class a theme and they do a little dance routine according to that theme.  Youngest Hobbit's class did a sort of Highland-crossed-with-Irish dance while Eldest Hobbit's class did a very impressive "kaleidescope" with his part being one of the green team.

All in all it was good fun.  I know the Hobbits love to dance although dance classes are completely out of the question as that is "girls stuff" and therefore not to be considered at all.  Which is a shame.  Still, while there is MTV there is always the opportunity to dance around the living room without a care in the world.

Its A Little Bit Like That Today

After a lovely time at the Edinburgh Book Festival thanks to the generousity of a lovely person I was all set for some time to myself today. My mother was staying over for that purpose although she had the duty of puppy sitting in the morning.

Well, that was before Eldest Hobbit began decorating the living room with copious amounts of icky sick.

Lord knows what or why but first the sofa got it, then the rug. By this time he was in the bathroom terrifying the cats with strange and horrible sounds. There is not much to do other than offer comfort and checking constantly that he wasn't developing anything worse.

After being sick for the umpteenth time at sometime beyond 1am he turned to me and said "Its been a terrible night!"

Funny how the silly things can raise a smile during the worst of times.

He is all better now thankfully, school starts on Tuesday. Yippee!

The Return Of Normality (Or What Passes For Normality)

This has felt like the longest Easter holiday ever and although I enjoy our little days out and the entertainment that the Hobbits bring with them I am so glad Monday is back to school. Trying to get anything done while they are at home is impossible and I have oh so much to do. Such is life when so many people are relying on me.

Hopefully the fug will lift and I can get some kind of organisation going.
I'm still working my way through my father's papers and it stops me, every time I find a memento he has kept. A poem I wrote in Primary 4; a Christmas card I drew in 1980 (says so on the back in his hand writing); little notes he wrote; my Spelling and Dictation jotter from Primary 3; a photograph my mother took of me in very trendy 70s gear (hey I was three, give me a break.) I need to get things done, there are still assurance policies to find, but so far I have had no time to grieve. With each little piece I find, things he has kept neatly folded in amongst his papers, it brings back the feeling that I had things perhaps I should have said and didn't. But what is most important is that we knew how much we meant to each other.

Oh well this is turning morose for a Saturday evening. My life is so exciting, tv and 'puter - woohoo, don't hold me back.

The Power Of The Book

No, not "The" Book, I haven't found religion, or anything else for that matter.

I just find myself pondering the power over imagination that books can hold.

Case in point, and the reason I am pondering at near midnight on a Monday night...

The story we are reading at the moment is The BFG by Roald Dahl. While the Hobbits enjoyed the reading of it at the time the fact that both of them were downstairs at 11 p.m. very frightened because "there is a hand and three shadows that are going dut-dut-dut" I may decide to change the book rather than continue tomorrow night. I forgot what it was like to read a story and need to spend the night with the light on for fear of what might happen - and this from someone who spent her early teens reading all the truly *scary* Stephen King novels.

I am glad that the Hobbits have my love for reading, now they are able to sit and follow a story themselves it is fun to see them in intense concentration over their little library. Okay so most of what they read is scientific - space, the universe, Earth and the delightful subject of natural disasters. The stories they prefer to be read to them.

A job I am glad to perform, funny voices included.

I realise this post is of the "I got up and had breakfast" type that blogs are ridiculed for. Ach well, it is late and I could care less. The star lights are on, the Hobbits are sharing a bed - the furthest from the imagined "hand." Funny there is no side-effect to Doctor Who (and wasn't that ending disappointing - how much did the writer hate Donna to do that to her!), not even Blink which I admit to being a little startled by - or Primeval. Yet the idea of giants visiting certain countries because the "human beans" taste better there...

(Now see what a kind person I truly am. I could have put the Blink image on this page rather than as a link...and we would all have had the star-lights on tonight as a result.)