If the cap fits.....

I've always felt that I've got a good sense of right and wrong. I hate to see an injustice being done and I will always root for the underdog. It's the optimist in me. The glass is always half full. I always look for the best in people. I always see potential where other can't.

I think I am right - all of the time - because I usually am. I trust my instinct most of the time, when I don't I always wish I had.

However much like the line in *Dirty Dancing*, If I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong.

Life sometimes throws crap at us, when it first hits my reaction is usually to ignore it. I can take one hit. When it keeps coming I find I have a choice - I can curl into a ball and wait for the shit storm to end, or I can stand up and fight my way through it. I can do something about it.

The shit storm is heading my way, it's predicted, it's inevitable. My first instinct was to take one hit then protect myself, that was my plan - tried and tested. However my sense of right and wrong is just too great. I can't stand back and allow myself to be scrutinised in a way that leaves me vulnerable and exposed.

Have I done anything wrong? I honestly don't think I have.

Could I have done things better? Probably.

If I had the chance to go back in time and do things differently would I? You better believe I would!

So as it stands, my actions are going to be scrutinised, my professionalism is going to be in question. But actually, I'm OK with that. Sometimes we all need a wake-up call. We all need the blinkers removing from our eyes.

The saying goes - what doesn't kill you will make you stronger. The shit storm wont kill me, the stink may linger for a while, but I've a terrible sense of smell so who cares?

I know I'm not perfect, I may like to think I'm in control when quite clearly I am having my strings pulled, but you know what? It's really not important.

Events over the last 12 months have made me realise what is important. I'm not infallible and I'm not perfect, I'm 100% OK with that.

I need to stay true to myself, true to what I believe in.

Please stand for Mr & Mrs Cruandall

Well folks, it finally happened,

Stood still whilst

and the (not so) lovely

exchanged these

The bride had finally found a dress (after buying two that were too small)

That was perfect to hide this;

whilst the Groom realised that he had just

to the hope of ever having any of this

Reality hit home and he realised it was time to

to his new life............

We are so happy for you both,

I'm still standing....

.... well propped up, but at least I'm not down - right?

It's been while since my last post - I have no excuses or apologies to offer. I expect many of you (ok, all two previous readers) will have moved on, but if you are still checking in, thank you for sticking with me.

So where have I been and what have I been doing and why am I back?

To answer the first, I've not been anywhere other than home/work.

To answer the second, I have filled all of my 'spare' time running. I run because I don't have to think when I'm running. I have no fears or worries whilst I run. I simply concentrate on staying upright!

Finally, I'm back because I was told that I look too tired, stressed, scrawny and my breasts have shrunk.

Obviously I need to lay off the running and come back to blogging!!!!!!!!

The House of Cards

My life is falling apart.
The blue tac that has been holding it together for the last 18 months has finally lost it's stick.

I don't know what to do to make everything better.
I don't know how to take back all of those terrible things that I have said.
I don't know how to erase all of the selfish things that I have done.

I don't know how make Mr M love me again.

Suggestions on a postage stamp please!

Curve balls

Life continues to throw curve balls - some I can catch and pitch right back, some just fly right past and are insignificant, some hit me square on, they are the ones I don't see coming.

17 years ago one of those curve balls hit me, it hit me so damn hard that it left bruises. Bruises that I've covered up. Hidden. Forgotten about.

How was to know that curve balls have boomerang qualities. How could I have predicted that the same curve ball would return some 17 years later. How was I to know that the person throwing it would be someone I adored?

How was I to know that - after 17 years and all that I have experienced - that curve ball wouldn't affect me in the same way?

It's hard to admit that life has changed you, that experiences have made you harder. It's heartbreaking to know that feelings and emotions you once embraced, you now fear and avoid.

The reality of being a grown up, of being a parent, of being someone who has been hurt.

So if I say I'm wary of the curve balls, it doesn't mean I fear them. I just need to accept them and learn how to deal with them.

Would I be friends with me?

I doubt it.

I doubt that I'd think it worth the effort of trying to penetrate my 'stand-offish' exterior.
I doubt that I'd think I was worth a second conversation - why would I be?
I doubt that I'd be bothered with the slow dance, with dodging the curve balls.
I doubt that I'd enjoy being analysed -(it's a self defence mechanism - honest)
I doubt that I'd actually give a damn about a young lady who on the surface is over confident and self assured.
I doubt I'd take the time to wonder whether I was cruelly sarcastic or extremely funny.


If I did make the effort, if I did let myself take a second look at me. Then Yes, I'd probably want to be friends with me - out of pure curiosity if nothing else.

If I did become friends with me I'd hope that I'd find a true friend.
I'd find someone who's been through their own fair share of crap, who's stronger for it and a better person
I'd find someone who would be utterly loyal and over protective
I'd find someone who wouldn't judge me
I'd find someone who'd make me laugh, cry and laugh - in that order
I'd find someone who'd support me in whatever I decided to do, in being whoever I decided to be.
I'd find someone who would always be there for me - regardless.

I'd find a true friend.

So yes, I would be friends with me.

Always x

I've had better nights.

When I suggested we go to the village bonfire and firework display I honestly did not think about how it would affect Mr M.

In hindsight being diagnosed with Combat Stress after a tour of duty in Afghanistan should have been enough for me to guess how he would react to the sounds of the fireworks - sounds very much like gun fire.

Why was I shocked when he hit the deck at the sound of the first one?
Why did I laugh when I looked round and realised what had happened?

Obviously, tonight was not one of my better ideas and Mr M certainly is far from cured!

Give me the strength.......

• To resist the daily urges to drive to the other side of town and beat Cruella with a large stick
• To support Mr M with his metal illness without getting frustrated with him
• To tackle the huge pile of ironing
• To start the Christmas shopping
• To resist *facebook* when I should be doing the ironing
• To blog more often

If the above are not possible, then please give me the strength to open another bottle of wine!!

Karma?

I've typed and deleted the bones of this post many times over recent months, the title was different and the focus of the content different - so how can it be the same post?It's really rambled, but stay with me on this one.

Today the Karma bus tootled into town and knocked Cruella flat on her big backside - so this post now has a happy(ok, smug) ending.



To put you in the picture...................



Mr M returned from Afghanistan earlier this year, but my husband never came home. His experience over there has changed him drastically and this is something we've both struggled with.

In July of this year Mr M was diagnosed with Combat Stress (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), thankfully we have an amazing GP who has referred him for specialist help and has precribed appropriately. Mr M is making progress through Counselling and medication.





My last post referred to the antics of Cruella, add them to the Combat Stress and you get the picture.

Remember this ?

So the date for Randall and Cruella to tie the knot was set for October of this year. It was all very hush hush and the boys had been well warned not to disclose any details to us. However, 2 weeks ago Cruella had the nerve to ask Mr M for a copy of their Divorce Certificate. Apparently she had destroyed hers (very grown up) and now needed to present it to the Registry Office before her and Randall can lodge their intent to marry.

So the good bits about Mr M's current condition - he's grown a huge pair of Bo***cks and is now very assertive. Something which Cruella soon discovered.

So Mr M's reply to her text message requesting the Divorce papers - nothing.

Mr M's reply to her getting Woody to ring Mr M asking for the Divorce Papers - 'Hi mate, it's great to speak to you, but to be honest if your Mum wants something she can ask me herself - it's not fair that she sould ak this of you. Anyway, what have you done at school today?'

Mr M's reply to her getting both boys to ask for the divorce papers last weekend -'boys, it's really not fair that your Mum should ask you two to do this. If your Mum wants to speak to me thenshe has my number and can call me. Anyway, how was Tennis this morning?'

Mr M's reply to Cruella when she finally rang him on Wednesday and told him she needed his divorce papers as she didn't know where her's were - ' you really should learn to look after your things better. Since I married Mrs M any papers relating to time that I spent with you have become obsolete and I'm not prepared to spend any of my time looking for them when you've been so careless with yours. If it were the other way around I know without a doubt that you would get great pleasure in withholding them from me.....'

The boys arrived today and the wedding came up in conversation. Apparently they have delayed it until next year as Cruella had had to apply to London to have her divorce papers re-issued and there has been a high financial cost for this, therefore the wedding has had to be delayed.

Does Mr M feel bad about this?

No freeking way - he has no idea where his divorce papers are and to be honest I think they were shredded after we got married (as our marriage made them defunct anyway).

However - I have no doubt that if he did have them he wouldn't give them to her and that makes me very proud of him. For the first time ever - Cruella does not get everything Cruella wants - and she's only herself to blame!

Toot, toot!!

Pay per view

We are now officially pay per view - with regards to the boys that is!

Since Mr M returned from Afghanistan we have been locked into a battle with Cruella, she has been making it increasingly difficult for Mr M and I to see the boys - there has always been some excuse and plenty of avoidance. Now we know why, she has been planning behind our backs (for some time it would seem) to seek child maintenance for the boys via the wonderful (i say that tongue in cheek) Child Support Agency (CSA).

Some history:- Since they separated Mr M has always had the boys stay with him, for many years (when the boys were young and required 'looking after') they stayed with us more than they stayed with Cruella - not once did we ask her for any financial support - in fact we didn't contest her claiming the Child Benefit or Child Tax credit payments -even though it was us that were clothing them and paying for formal childcare. Money has never been an issue for us.

When we went to 50-50 shared care in 2005, there was never a case for child maintenance and we each paid half for all costs - school trips, uniforms etc.

Some facts:-

• Cruella sees the boys as independent and is happy to leave them without adult supervision from 07.00hrs to 20.30hrs and beyond.
• Cruella no longer 'needs' us to be unpaid childminders
• There has been extensive parental alienation going on since Mr M was deployed to Afghanistan and this is still ongoing.
• Since his return, Mr M has continued to pay half of all costs.
• Cruella has never approached Mr M to make him aware that she has made an application to CSA.

So we get the paperwork from CSA 3 weeks ago we fill it in and return it the same day. Yesterday we received the notification of the amount we are to pay to Cruella. It quite clearly stated that this is to be Mr M's contribution towards the living costs for both boys.

So before I tell you how much we have to pay to see the kids, here's a quick run down of our monthly costs prior to Afghanistan:-

• £140 fuel costs taking the boys to School
• £40 Tennis
• £100 clothes, shoes, school uniform for both boys
• £50 School lunch for both boys
• Total minimum costs £ 330

Annual costs would include half of all school trips and school holiday experiences with the last one being £580 for one boy!

SO.....

The wonderful CSA have ruled that Mr M must pay Cruella......... £185 per month and is no way obliged to make any further contribution. I'd call that a result!!!

Oh, and Mr M's parting shot to Cruella this weekend when she smugly hinted that she was going to 'screw him financially'.

'If you are referring to the CSA, I'm surprised it's taken you so long apply. I contacted them if February when you started being an arse and they advised that I do nothing until you make an application. Just look at the months you've missed out on!'

Her face was a picture - I cant wait until she asks us to pay half of some school trip or something, she'll be told where to get off. Our pay per view sbscriptions are paid in ful!!

Thanks, but no thanks!

Mr M is usually quite thoughtful, since he has mastered the art of Internet shopping, his gifts have become much more diverse & creative - usually I'm thrilled.


Now I don't want you thinking that I've become spoiled or ungrateful - really, I appreciate all that I have. However, his most recent gifts have left me totaly and utterly speechless (well almost, I did manage a 'you've got to be f*ing joking!).




So here you have it ladies, my newest addition to my underwear drawer - in both black and white I may add........

So forgive me if I pass on these. I'd just much rather have a pair of these:-

Number 3

I flaming well knew it - everything happens in 3's.

Last week I took a call from an advertising firm regarding 'an advert I'd agreed to place in a charity magazine in February of this year'. I could not recall any such call, but did wonder if in the euphoria of Mr M's return I'd agreed to help a worthy cause. The company informed me that the advertising space had been reserved & it was too late to cancel.
To the happy tune of £250 plus VAT.
So whilst I was a bit miffed with myself, I thought nothing more of it when the invoice landed through my door on Monday.

Until, I took 2 calls on Monday from different advertising firms regarding 'adverts I'd agreed to place on Charity wall planners, in february of this year'. Again the advertising space had been reserved & it was too late to cancel. To the happy tune of £199 plus VAT - one would give a 5% discount if I paid over the phone by debit card. WTF??

So February was the month that Mr M returned, does having lots of sex result in a complete loss of business sense and a desire to part with huge amounts of cash? I think not!

Tuesday Morning I decide to look into these a bit further, beforen I get the chance the phone rings and Advertising firm number 4 calls regarding 'an advert I'd agreed to place in a charity magazine, in March of this year'. Again the advertising space had been reserved & it was too late to cancel. Although they would offer me a £50 discount, so I'd only be invoiced for £249.00 plus VAT.

Enter the internet and the wonderful *google search*.

Within minutes I was able to see that all 4 'companies' have the same address - which is a mailing box in Manchester and telephone number. The registered address a house in the Manchester suberbs. They all claim to be affiliated with Charities & celebrities, yet when I emailed named charities they had no association with these 'companies' at all.
I was also able to see that there have been thousands of complaints from small businesses to the trading standards regarding these 4 'companies' and in fact they traded under many other names too.
I was also able to get free advice on how to deal with these companies.

Enter Mrs M, armed with phone & script.

Company No 1 - Started off very polite, yes we did contact you last week, yes we explained that you had agreed to the advert in February, no I can't tell you the specific date, no you can't cancel, yes the telephone conversation we had in February was recorded & forms a legally binding contract. No you can't hear the recorded conversation, it's only submissible in court.

Mrs M - I did not agree to this advert, the proof and invoice you've sent are extremely poor quality - my 13 year old could have done better with his laptop and HP printer. I've been looking into you registered business and am confused as to why you are registered to a mail box, which is shared by 3 other companies. I'm also concerned as the charity you are representing have emailed confirmation to me that they have no association with this company. I've also taken legal advice and despite your attempts to bully me into paying, your alleged telephone conversation is not a legally binding contract.

Company No 1 - I've cancelled your order, goodbye.


Result!!

The same followed for company number 2, 3 and 4.

It was extremely amusing to have the same conversation with the same person (pretending to be someone different everytime).

The worrying thing is that if they'd only contacted me the once, I'd have probably stumped up the cash, assuming that I'd been to loved up to even care what I was agreeing to - talk about scamming!!

Waiting for number 3

Everything comes in 3's - right?

1) The hassle with the budget airline that kept me on hold for 75 minutes, then wanted to charge me £100 to put right their mistake...............

2) I pay £22.95 for Saturday morning delivery of my new camera. Parcel Force claim they attempted delivery (which they didn't) and I finally get my item on Monday morning. Too late for the wedding that I had booked on Saturday afternoon.

3).............here's hoping it has nothing to do with Volcanic Ash.............

Still on hold

We've booked flights for next week, whilst printing off the boarding pass I noticed the airline had spelt my name wrong.

No worries, i'll just ring the airline & ask them to amend it - easier said than done!

I've been on hold for the last 62 minutes and at 10p per minute i'm none too happy.

I guess thats what you get booking with a budget airline!

AARRRGGGHHH!!!!!!

Time to celebrate!

I know I've been quiet for a while, but I've been really, really busy.
I've had me an interview to prepare for and boy did I prepare!

Long story short.................... I applied for a job last year & was unable to attend the interview as I was out of the country. They refused to re-schedule the interview (really nice people!).
My Director of Service was livid & pulled a few strings for me to spend some time on the area - which I did & had a terrible time.
The job was re advertised in January and I applied, the job was then advertised again (to attract a broader base of applicants is the official line - to avoid me having a fighting chance is the non-official line).
I had an interview last week.
They offered me the job on Tuesday.



Say hello to Mrs M - the new Deputy Modern Matron for assessment & treatment services. Hours of work Monday to Friday 8.30-4.30. No more weekends, No more shift work, No more bank holidays, No more working Christmas or New Year.

I'm so excited - I have a secretary allocated to manage (amongst other things) my diary, which is electronic (wow, I'm used to wiping bums!!)

I get to be best buddies with Trixi Lee - rather than having to work with her & be buddies (which is hard on both sides sometimes as I can be a stroppy cow - i know!).

Oh and the best bit - with 7 years less experience than Cruella, I'm now 4 management levels above her - Sweet, sweet Karma!

Oh and a salary raise into the bargain!!

let the celebrations begin & the Mojito's flow!!

Would the real Mrs M Please Stand up? Part 10

It's been way too long, but if you want to catch up Link back to this.

So there was I, living with my parents. In my old room. Bliss!

I never missed a day at work throughout, it was my sanity saver. The one thing I was good at and besides, my best friends were there - why would I chose not to go?

Mr H gathered momentum as the good boy jilted. Even my parents bought into his pity party. I was the one painted as the bad guy. I was the one who had left him, who thought I was above my station. I was the one who must have been messing around. It was obviously all my fault.

I didn't say a thing - to anyone. I took the blame, I listened to the rumours, I put up with my parents siding with Mr H. put up with 'our' friends turning into 'his' friends. Why? Because I was free from him.
My heart broke when his family cut me off completely though, yet I still couldn't bring myself to tell them why I'd left. He was their son, brother, grandson, nephew, they didn't have to know about the bad things - who was I to tell them? Even when his father ridiculed me and openly accused me of having an affair with another woman (his drunken logic being that I couldn't possibly have chosen another man over his son), I still didn't tell anyone anything. His Mum (L)refusing all contact from me cut like a knife - I love L so much - and still I kept shtum!

From the July until the November I continued to live in the same small village as Mr H. I tolerated my parents inviting him for lunch, or out for drinks (they felt sorry for him and blamed me). I never saw him nor spoke to him. I just went to work then came home to the comfort of my bedroom.

At work I continued to go from strength to strength. I really blossomed into a confident young lady (I was only 24!). I saw Mr M every day at work and our friendship grew. He was having problems with Cruella - I listened, but never once did I share my opinion, not once did I hint that he deserved better. He was married - end of story, out of bounds!
I'd been asked out for several dates, but after a disaster with a prison officer (another tale for another day) I decided I quite liked being single!

Towards the end of November I began to feel stifled, my parents were beginning to question my motives for leaving Mr H - was it just a case of me thinking I was better than I actually was, had I tried to be a good wife, was I having an affair? (I think the fact that I'd been out socially once since leaving Mr H would have answered the last question). I started looking for somewhere to live and within days had fallen in love with a little two up two down. Nothing to look at - but it felt right.

I put an offer in on the house on 1st December. Mr H moved his 3rd Girlfriend into my old house on the 2nd. I still paid his mortgage. He still threatened to slit my throat if I stopped.

You can write your name in it

Lola is discovering the wonder of words. She's loving that she can write her name, copy words and even write words that we spell out to her (obviously these talents are from me!).

So, picture a four year old, walking around with a filofax (Mr M's old one that he never used) taking 'notes' at every opportunity. She's way too cute and very smart!

Smart to the point that she's worked out that you don't need a pencil and paper to write.........


.......as I was doing the house work the other morning she begged me not to 'duster' the television.
Why?
'Because the dust is good for writing your name Mummy'!


I really must clean up more. Or employ a housekeeper. Or buy more paper!

Adjusting.........

...............to being weekend parents?

Like a Disney film - 7pm every other Friday brings a magical transformation. The fairy dust settles and four become six. We spend the weekend running here, there and everywhere - and love it!
6pm on Sunday and the magic starts to fade. Mr M takes the boys back to Cruella (rushing so that the car doesn't turn into a pumpkin on his way home).

By 7pm every other Sunday six become four and we carry on regardless.


Whilst it's not easy going from full time, to half time, to no time, to very other weekend time - the boys seem pretty happy with the arrangement. This weekend they have been really relaxed and even stayed until this evening (it's school holidays). Mr M and I think that they have realised that we just want to spend some time with them. SIMPLE. No games, no gimmicks. They get no pressures from us and I think that is exactly what they need.


On the flip side - Lola is not dealing with this very well at all. She is so naughty whilst the boys are here, the minute they are in the car on the way to Cruella's she's fine. She just doesn't get it yet. I suppose it's a struggle for her, she spend so much time as the 'eldest child' then has to drop back into line when Charlie takes up this role - it must be confusing?

Mr M has found it hard too. We hardly know the boys anymore however, this weekend they have really started to open up again - I'm hopeful!


Oh and Cruella is on a diet - I correctly predicted that she is focused on squeezing her fat backside into a tiny wedding dress - a green one at that! Some girls have no taste!

I know I'm rotten - but Karma . . . .

So, whilst we were celebrating our Christmas and the boys were happily shopping with their grandparents this is what Cruella was up to:-

Randal

Whisks Cruella

To Dublin for a romantic weekend

Where he pops the question to Cruella

Who instantly starts planning how she is going to fit this:-

Into one of these..

She's rudely interrupted by one of these.....

and is well pissed off when its Mr M on the line..... (how were we to know?!)

Her weekend goes from this

to this!

She should have turned her bloody phone off - is what I say!!

Wonder if she'll ask me to be her official wedding day photographer? *insert evil laugh*

Put a sock in it .....

....oh, you already did!


'Christmas' morning Lola runs into our bedroom and very excitedly asks if Father Christmas has been again. With this Dora bursts in (jumps her way in really) and asks if Father Christmas has been again.

Both girls jump into bed and all three of us 'push' Mr M out of bed so he can go and check - no point us all getting cold until we've confirmed that there are in fact presents to be opened 9and Mr M can turn the thermostat up on his way downstairs - logic, right?

So Mr M gets (is pushed) out of bed and with his back to us -safe in the knowledge that we are all preoccupied with speculating about father Christmas - he removes his lovely little boxer shorts with the intention of putting on his pants (yes, he's a pants man - he likes it all tucked in and not dangling).

Gotcha!

We girls sit giggling at Mr M's bum and he obliges with a little wiggle before pulling his pants up and turning round to face us.

Lola, in absolute stitches, to the point where she can only just get her words out, points at Mr M and declares:-

"Silly daddy - you've left your socks in your pants "

Mr M turned crimson, I almost pee'd myself and Lola was beside herself that Daddy was silly enough to out his socks in his pants in the first place!

Mr M now gets dressed in our bathroom!

Now the question is which type of socks? I would have said trainer socks - but I'm sure Mr M would insist they were boot socks!!