A very moving poem

None of my words in today post but a beautiful poem posted by Gingerbread on their face book page . Its says more than I  ever could……….. enjoy

A poem on being a single parent by Gingerbread supporter and single mum, Tina Davenport.

Endlessly

Tonight I took a mirror,

for the first time I could see,

All the people that I am,

reflected back at me.

This woman,

just a face,

but in the eyes they tell a tale,
Of love that’s lost and things that I must be and never fail.
The mother and the father and the healer of young hearts,
Teaching them to fly again when lives were torn apart,
Creator of the safest place and catch them when they fall,
Working late into the night and juggling it all.
By day, the leader of a team, responsible by far.
Conference calls and meetings, rushed commuting in my car,
Fixing what is broken and supporting my own team,
Being full of energy, maintaining self-esteem.
Taxi driver, shopper, hamster-tamer, chef and nurse,
Expert plaster putter-on-er, world’s most active purse.
Choir singer, gym class shaper, life’s encyclopaedia,
Become the leading expert on xbox and social media.
But who am I, deep down if I can strip those things away?
How do I stay strong inside and keep the fears at bay.
A worker and a single parent trying to make ends meet,
Never giving in and never can admit defeat.
A singer and an artist, I am passionate inside,
I’m strong and I am fearless and I wear myself with pride.
All colours of the rainbow, I am all I need to be,
Though I could use a break sometimes and p’raps a cuppa tea.

I’m the sailor of my heart, and my ship is straight and true,
Steer my heart to shore but on my own, without a crew,
I’m love and I am peaceful with my babes held in my care,
Although it’s not how I had planned, a love that should be shared.
I may be on my own but I sing bold and strong and true,
So special are these boys and all these precious things I do.
I may not do it perfect but “just good enough”’s just right,
Oh …..time to put my kids to bed and give a kiss goodnight.
If you know a single parent, forward this on to them.
And tell them they are special and then tell them that again.
Their lives will be unnoticed in the busy world they live,
Their tiredness kept behind closed doors with all they have they give.

They give their loved ones, by themselves, the place that they call home.
Expecting nothing in return, each day they work alone.
But precious is the closeness, that they share from being together,
Their children’s love is endless, that will last each day forever.
Tina Davenport

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Boyfriend, mummy’s friend, or secret?

Buddy recently saw a match.com advert on the TV and asked me to sign up to get him a daddy.  I cant begin to tell you how gutted I felt for him. His father has never met him, his choice, no contact at all. I don’t even know if he is alive or dead. I do know which I am rooting for.

But it did get me thinking.

How do you deal with a man as a single Mum?  You know, when and if one shows up in your life.

How on earth would I handle that? No rude comments now!

I should clarify that I am in no way planning to get a man.  I did have a date three weeks ago……………… disaster was not the word!  (Note to self: blogging about this may aid recovery!)

But I do observe other women in my situation all going about it very differently.

One mother introduces every man she meets, usually in the morning after they had stayed the night. She once told me she couldn’t do without sex for more than a few weeks, so she always kept an online dating profile.  In my honest opinion this is stupidity personified.   I see danger here to both the mother and her two children. And also, it makes me want to vomit. Yuck-Yuck-Yuckity-Yuck.

I’ve just eaten a chocolate bar, I’m not wasting  good chocolate so i’m not going to think about this  any further!

Then there are those who keep things a total secret.  I can see the logic.  I mean, if you can manage to keep a casual-ish relationship under wraps then brilliant, no one is going to get disappointed, no disturbance to the family unit when it ends.  But sneaking about like a cat burglar has got to be a lot of hard work, and those tight black outfits would show a LOT of tummy wobble!  This does suppose the relationship will end, I know I’m pessimistic, but if I am going to risk cat burglar tummy wobble, I’d like to think it was an investment into my future happiness. AND you’d have to have somewhere to go,  once you have smuggled in a babysitter and made them sign the official secrets act, where no one knows you. Going by my only-date-in-four-years disaster, this is a big ask! And what if the secret thing is the way HE wanted it? I don’t think I would like that at all.

Introducing him as ‘mummies friend’.  I can see the temptation to do this.  I mean, we all have friends.  Children don’t seem bothered by friends at all.  Except children aren’t stupid, most of the blighters are sharp as tacks, and they are going to notice that this friend is different to the others, even if you don’t allow ‘sleepovers’.

There is one  single mother i know of who did the whole ‘here is your new daddy, we are getting married’ thing. Her beau was a secret to all but one of her friends. They decided to marry and she introduced him to her children and family by saying ‘mummy is getting married’ and showing them her engagement ring. He moved in the next week.

I think that if someone  was to ask my advice I would tell them to keep it secret at first, till they had checked him out in every way they could. Seen him drunk, seen him angry, seen him stressed.  I’d say, use Clare’s law, and if he refused to sign to let them know of any criminal history, don’t go any further the relationship. End it, there and then! I’d insist that they expect him to respect their boundaries, and if he did , maybe they could relax  and slowly, slowly let him into their children’s lives.

It must work for some, surely? Just not me….. maybe.

Sing x

The school gate…………

I did consider calling this post ‘running the gauntlet’, which I suppose hints at the direction today’s blog is about to take.

Those who don’t do the daily school drop off and collection, many call ‘the school run’ (run? who’s running? ), may imagine they are missing the happy chit-chat of parents catching up about their weekends, and kissing their kiddies goodbye in the playground.

All I can say to you, is that  this Utopian scenario exists only on the first three days of term.  At least, that’s how it goes at Buddy’s school. IF it last three days.

Once past those warm fuzzy days of new jumpers and shiny shoes ,you find yourself embroiled in a whole new social dynamic. Or perhaps hell, though hell would be simpler to navigate.

There are cliques, there are arguments,  there is name calling, there have been fisticuffs, there are affairs started and wronged women seeking solace.  Did you think this blog was about the children? Oh no no no ……..this social maze consists of parents!

There is fuel added to this fire regularly (and unknowingly) by the school.

The school commit the heinous crime of arranging a trip for the little cherubs. There is always a cost. Some parents can afford this, and others cannot. There is a fund to help those parents who just can’t give anymore cash to the book bag bandit. Everyone knows this fact.

It’s humiliating to need this fund. You do actually have to fess up to someone that you are flat broke, and its beans for tea again! This humiliation however, does not stop the endless discussion of who has paid and who has not.  For days after a trip consent letter arrives in the satchel post the playground rings with

‘I can go there cheaper myself!’

 ‘I think those who don’t pay should be left at school’

 ‘i know SHE wont pay, she never does’

‘I’m not paying next time, why should I? My husband WORKS’

Awwww the cute children with their little packed lunches off to the zoo (or some such) to have a fabulous, mildly educational, trip with their friends……… the poor Mother, trying really hard not to fart (all she has eaten for three weeks is beans), running home shame faced and humiliated. While people ponder what contribution she made, and insist loudly that her child should ride in the lunch bag crate!  She wont have contributed enough for their little bum to touch a velour bus seat after all.  Maybe, just to be sure, they should be banned from the penguins too? You know,  to make it fair.

Then there are the those Mothers who are instantly your gossipy best mate.

Be afraid… be very afraid!

As sure as there is a nose on your face, if they are gossiping about others then they will have no qualms sharing the details of your laundry basket with anyone who will listen. And some who wont.  They talk about what a shouty mother this person is, how that person would rather buy beer for themselves than bananas to feed their child , and, the always fascinating, who is sleeping with who and what their respective spouses are likely to do about it. This is all fun and games for the unsuspecting mother enjoying all this news,  until THE day.

 ‘THE’ day is the day the unsuspecting mother rounds the corner to see the gossipy best mate, pint in hand, laughing with the parent who wont buy bananas. The expression on her poor face when she realizes who and what they are laughing at could probably be viewed from the international space station. ‘Oh look’ says one spaceman to another ‘theres a woman realizing that the day she answered the door to the postman, with a breast pad stuck to her cheek, is now public knowledge. Ha HA!’.

Well ,you can’t blame the spacemen, there’s nothing to look at out of the other window.

At buddy’s school, a school with a good reputation, In a nice area and good ofstead reports, police have had to be called to gates due to fighting fathers. Social services have had accusations of abuse from one parent against another. Parents have had to be invited in to meetings with the school to sort out  their own play ground arguments. Not to mention the calls to husbands, hinting at the extramarital activities of wives.

And you were feeling sorry for the breast pad woman!

I tell you the school run is not for the faint of heart.  My advice? Smile at them all, say good morning politely. Ignore all friend requests and run home like hell. Oh, that who’s running,  ME!

Oh and please, please, for your own safety DO NOT MENTION YOUR CHILD’S READING LEVEL…… EVER!

We both know your child is a genius, lets just leave it at that.

Sing x

After a ‘hellova’ day……………

After a hell of a day………. I decided to start a blog!

An odd reaction perhaps, but maybe the world will be interested in life as I see it!

So, I’m a single mum (who’d have guessed!), probably older than most, with a six year old son, Buddy.  Buddy is obviously not his real name, poor fella, just what I call him most of the time.

I work, I also claim benefits and often there is too much month left at the end of the money. This is not a ‘poverty blog’, but that’s just a fact of our (and many other families) lives.

Cornish born and bred I’m passionate about Kernow, and I live in council housing in one of the poorest towns in the county, and therefore probably the UK.

I regularly upset people without actually meaning to, but i’m less concerned about this as I get older. I put this down to dementia.

Disorganised, often looking like I’ve been through a hedge backwards,  I could do with loosing some lard, catching up on the paperwork and  cleaning the bathroom, so you could hardly call me a supermum.

My little buddy is my boy. I can’t say anything different to any other Mum. I love him beyond reason, he drives me to distraction, he always mis-matches his pajamas just because he can.

Our day today has been busy to say the least. I had to work early this morning and Buddy had a birthday party this afternoon, lovely for him, and he had a great time, but it was at one of those play places that’s all uncomfortable chairs , loud music and echoing screams. Headache inducing.

Lego was his main concern this evening, that and the fact that I had packed matching pajamas for him to take to his Grandmas. Grandma is, of course, astonished that I let him mix up his jammies, but quirky is as quirky does and Pj’s are not worth fighting over.

I also managed to get my self unfriended by 3 people on Facebook. I didn’t intend to, I’m just lucky like that.  My problem with it is that I just forget to fake everything!  Its amazing  any friends stay on my list  and I suspect the few that remain are only there to see what unintentional offence I will cause next. It’s so quick to publish a post while you are chuckling about something. Religion was my ‘foot in mouth’ topic of the day . There is nothing like a hot potato, and there is nothing worse than an inadvertent hot potato chucked  into a church. I’d probably have fared better if I had taken a real potato and lobbed it into one, it would have upset fewer people.

Oh well I’m three down, but they probably match their pajamas.

Sing xx