Conspiracy Theory

For those of you out there of regularly check this blog, you will do doubt have noticed that there has been a distinct lack of posting. This is due to the fact that for the past week or so life seems to have ganged up on me and kneecapped me.

Well thats my theory and I’m sticking to it.

Since I last posted, I have regained some control over my sleeping, which I am so relieved that I did as I have needed more strength than ever to cope with this weeks events.

I have a little boy, Xander, and he is unique. I call him my ‘rainbow child’ as no matter how dark, gloomy and stormy you may be feeling, one smile from him and he radiates all the joy of a rainbow after the storm. He is also gifted with the ability to see spirit and perceive things that others may miss, which is a talent that I intend to nurture so that unlike me, he will keep the ability as he grows and not have the long period of emptiness during the transition from childhood into adulthood that I had until I regained my gifts.

Monday this week saw me rushing him to the doctor’s surgery and then rushing him into hospital, bypassing the A&E/Emergency Room and getting him straight onto a ward. Unsure of why he was screaming in pain there was talk of appendacitis, kidney stones a twisted bowl and heaven knows what else, there was so much information heading my way that I can’t remember it all.

Being a single mum through the week I felt so alone in having to make all of the necessary decisions and try to comfort and reassure him. Calls were made to his grandpa to collect pyjamas etc as the hospital were keeping him in, calls were made to his daddy to tell him he better pack his stuff and head home asap as his little boy needed him.

So while I sat in the hospital by his bedside awiting test results and watching ever more painful examinations, my father was collecting necessary items and getting upset at the thought of Xander in pain, and Xander’s daddy was making the 300 mile trip home to be by his bedside. I was trying hard not to let my emotions show and stay calm for Xan, whilst inside I was falling apart, especially when the doctor said he was going to call a surgeon!

Thankfully at the last minute, as the surgeon was heading up, more test results came back and we found the source of the acute pain. Now we knew why he was suffering but not the reason for the condition. Still they decided that due to this new information, he could come home, providing I was armed with enough medications to stock a pharmacy.

Thinking that this would now mean that everything was under control, later that evening we were discharged, Grandpa relieved and coming home from the hospital with us, daddy still heading up the motorway to be with us.

Tuesday however saw us rushing back into hospital. Xander started getting hotter and hotter, temperature rising up to 102.2′ and then he started shaking. This was new and scary to me, it all came on so quickly. The hospital was called and he was readmitted and the round of tests statred again.

He is back at home now (Friday), I have a schedule of medications, his daddy has returned to work, grandpa is calling us regularly to check we are ok, and I am watching him like a hawk. I am keeping him away from nursery schiool until I am sure he is stable and in control of himself and as for me I am running in mum/nurse mode, waking up at the slightest night time murmer and checking his temperature several times a day, just in case.

This has been one of those instances when I have been glad I work from home. He has had his mummy by his side all the way through his trauma, hopefully making him feel safe and reassured. Yes I may miss a couple of deadlines, or the store may miss an update etc, but I am where I am most needed and that is more important than anything else.

An Official Insomniac?

I think that I am now quite correct in saying I have insomnia and its driving me mad.

I decide its time for bed as I am dead on my feet, then as soon as I lie down I am suddenly wide awake and laying there telling myself I should be asleep. If I do happen do doze of its not for very long and then I end up clock watching until its a reasonable time in the morning to get up.

I have tried all of the usual things to get some sleep from warm drinks to ’strong’ drinks, lavender scented baths, reading a book etc etc.. I have even resorted to some less that traditional methods to exhaust me before bed (snigger). I still lie there awake.  I have always been a light sleeper, my partner has always said that if a mouse walked past the house through the night and broke wind, I’d wake up!

So this has got me thinking. Do I have anything in the shop that I haven’t tried for myself yet?

I have tried hypnotherapy cd’s in the past and they have worked, after a fashion, but I have not tried this one yet. So I’m putting this on my shopping list.

I like ambient, relaxing music too, so I’m also going to add this one to the list. Llewellyn really does produce some beauitiful music so I know this is going to be relaxing.

As far as using some herbs – which I tend not to for myself, no idea why, I tend to prefer crystals. I think I am best off with Valerian and Lavender, I just need to come up with a suitable mix, which I will probably use for a pillow sachet.

Wish me luck!

Birthday Bash Report

or should that be from the Loreal Sublime ‘Bronze’ to the ridiculous???

Hmm well I think my first attempt at reducing my ‘Moon Tan’ with a piece of fakery will be my last. despite following the instructions to the letter, I still looked like I had tried to spray pain myself through a set of railings! Streaky? You bet! I looked like an yellowy orange striped zebra. Still I managed to cover the worst of it up (I think).

Ready for a night on the town.

Anyway, we all met up, decorated the birthday girl with badges, a sash, glow stick necklaces and a Disney Princess tiara emblazoned with a large sparkly ‘40′. Just to make sure that we couldn’t possibly lose her in one of those dark bars or course!

Linzi - The Birthday Girl.

The short walk into town was broken up by strangers shouting ‘Happy 40th Birthday!’  Which I think Linzi managed to get used to after the third or fourth shout. A couple of cars actually slowed down and had a jolly good stare – whether this was due to her birthday attire or the fact that we all looked gorgeous I can’t say.

We had a great night, no tumbles, no accidents (well nothing to speak of) and no one wandering off! However Kim was rather taken with two young police men and almost accosted them – to take a photograph of course with the birthday girl. Well at least that is what she said. An Indian meal at midnight is something I wouldn’t normally do, and for someone who doesn’t really eat Indian food (I really don’t like coriander!) I thoroughly enjoyed it and ate the lot, even the pilau rice and I ‘don’t do rice!’

I can’t speak for the others, but I know that I woke up without a hangover. That could be due to the fact that I only had three hours sleep though I suppose. I couldn’t wander around town every week, but once in a blue moon, yes I could manage that.

General Alert Sounded in Hartlepool

Well if there hasn’t been there should be. Why? Well its been a while but I am out ‘on the town’ there tonight!

It has been a long time since I have been on a traditional pub crawl, actually I can’t remember the last time as it was literally so long ago. Maybe I am old before my time, my partner says he is going to get me carbon dated just to check I haven’t lied about my age.

But, for a birthday celebration, a 40th birthday too I might add (not mine before you all go awww. I have a couple of years left before I hit the big four ‘O’). She wants to go dancing, dancing! I hope all of these trendy pubs and bars have got their floors reinforced and are well stocked ready for our arrival!

I have even decided to bare my legs for the event too, and so that all of the party goers don’t get blinded when a strobe light (do they still have them?) flashes onto my delicately ‘moon tanned’ legs I am going to attempt some ‘light’ fake tan – another first! It could be that I spray the bathroom a strange shade of orange during application, or I end up looking like I have been dipped in creosote – but I’m a woman on the edge and I’ll try anything once!

I shall report on the tanning success, night out etc when I come round/sober up or can see the keyboard again over the weekend. I may even post a photo or two so brace yourselves!

I was a what????

One of those things that I accept and but don’t really understand or question for that matter, is how I have been blessed with the ability to look into someones past lives. Yes I do consider it a blessing as it has allowed me to help people understand why, in some cases they behave a certain way in their present life. Exploring a past incarnation can also help to locate the root of any ‘unfounded’ fears or phobias that we are struggling with in the here and now.

I have met read for people who have turned out to be ancient warriors, Nubian royalty, citizens of the French Revolution and even an actress and gangsters moll. Sometimes their tales are heart breaking and I weep as I write them down, other times I feel as though I am writing out a screen play as the events are so detailed and colourful. I have been taken all over the world during these readings to places I would never give a second thought to in daily life and have been provided with a privileged glimpse into the lives of the people in that moment in time. I feel honored that I am able to do this for those that ask.

I do not need to meet the client that requires the reading, only a photograph, as it is by looking into the image that the history is revealed. Please be assured that whatever is revealed to you is given for a reason. It may be that you have walked this way many times but only the life with the most relevance to your struggles or needs in this life will be revealed to you, and always with love.

Stop the world I want to get off!

This past couple of weeks I have felt stressed to the extreme, family upsets, friends going through difficult times, neighbours being hell, all topped off by a four year old who will not, under any circumstances stop talking. It doesn’t help that my partner works away from home and adult company through the day is scarce either. I think last weekend I reached meltdown.

So this weekend when my other half was home we decided an escape was necessary, my dad was signed up as a babysitter and we went out for the evening. Not an expensive night out by any means, a pub meal a couple of drinks and a walk on the beach.

Sitting amongst the sand dunes watching the last remaining people on the beach I was literally stunned by the silence. Only the sound of the occasional car, voices carried on the breeze and the whispering of the long dune grasses were all that could be heard above the rolling of the sea. Bearing in mind this is the North East coast and the North Sea it was practically idyllic.

As the son went down the sea changed from a beautiful blue to a deep petrol colour, the light houses came to life and the lights from the docks blazed out across the water. At the same time my shoulders dropped, tension slipped away and my breathing slowed, and I started to feel like myself again. They say a change is as good as a rest and in this instance it is certainly one adage I can vouch for.

With meditation at any level being so difficult for me right now I’ve decided that the sound of the waves will definitely help, but i can’t always get in the car and head to the beach so I’m cheating with a Natural Sounds CD, it really does help. So if you find the sound of waves relaxing try it out for yourself its done wonders for me.

Need help remembering your dreams?

We’ve all been there, having woken up in the early hours of the morning, our hearts firmly lodged in our throats and a feeling of…what?

Well that’s just it isn’t it? Once we are awake we generally forget the images and emotions that roused us. This is why its a good idea to keep a dream journal. It doesn’t need to be a special book or magically embellished journal, a simple notebook will suffice, just the right size to fit onto your bedside table or to keep on the floor near your bed, somewhere where it can always be within easy reach.

When you reach that point of waking, reach for your journal and pen. There is no need to waste time trying to form sentences or keeping things grammatically correct, just jot down quickly the things that you remember. It may be nothing more than a few words to start with, perhaps tunnel, chased and scared are all that come to mind, once you have regained some of that composure that seems to vanish from us when we wake up with a jolt, look at the words that you have written, or perhaps the images that you have drawn, and focus on them a little more.

So, you wrote down tunnel. What can you remember about the tunnel, was it dark or light, was it stone or brick? You may remember you touched the side of the tunnel wall and it felt damp, whatever springs to mind write it all down and do the same for each of the original words. For example chased, were you running or in a vehicle? What did the ground feel like beneath your feet? Why did you feel scared? Did you know what or who was chasing you? You will find that for each question you ask, your answers will provoke a further question until you get to the point where you have reconstructed your dream in it’s entirety.

You may now have pages of disjointed words and scribbled images, but take them all and place them into a time line so that you can follow your dream through, like a short story from start to finish. Are you still scared or do you know what your dream was representing and now have a clearer idea of why you had the reaction that you did?

An exercise like this may seem difficult to work through at first, but its a skill that comes with practice and repetition, you will find eventually that you will be able to use this restructuring process in other areas in your life as a general aid to memory, as well as ending up with books full of weird and wonderful short stories.

Why did I have kids?

Considering the hundreds of child rearing books out there on the shelves just waiting to be purchased by eager parents to be, I doubt that any of them can truly prepare you for parenthood, at least not for any of the events that have encountered.

As a mum of three and a step-mum to another four, both my partner and I have lost count of the amounts of times we have uttered ‘They don’t tell you that in those damn books!”

Until you have been sat in the emergency room trying to explain why your young son has one of his sister’s beads firmly lodged up his nose you haven’t truly lived. Nothing can prepare you for the looks you will receive from the hospital staff, from the receptionist to the triage nurse looks have ranged from disbelief to the; “Just what kind of a mother are you?” scathing type of look. I refuse to believe that I am the only mother who has turned up for help when all home based efforts of poking, squeezing and attempted nose blowing have failed? And yes, thank you, I know he is only two years old and yes I know these types of toys are inappropriate for his age group, no they are not his they belong to his older sister, yes they are normally out of his reach, yes I do think it was intentional his sister said she wanted to see how far up it would go.

Looking back I think perhaps that my daughter looked upon her younger brother as some kind of interactive toy. When he was around four years old I once found her pinning him to the ground, her knees on his arms so that he couldn’t move around, lipstick firmly grasped in her six year old hand and well, you can imagine the rest, he looked like a twisted little clown from someones nightmare.

Those two little horrors are now teenagers, and I am going through it all again with my four year old son, only this one is more vocal than the other two ever were.”Why has that man got no hair?” and “Why is that lady fat?” or the best one so far, whilst I was in the supermarket; “Are you a lady or a man because you have prickles on your face like my daddy but you are wearing a ladies dress?”

No matter how many times you wish for it, the ground never does open up beneath you and swallow you whole, neither do the comments go unnoticed, no matter how hard you wish for people to be deaf. Children will go on embarrassing their parents and creating events that will stretch you to your limits for as long as they are able, but isn’t that one of the things we love them for, their sheer unpredictability?

Not so ‘airy fairies’

Well it seems like the days of pastel pink fairies and gossamer wings are being left behind these days, as a new style of fairy giftware takes the stage. I have to say I like it, its bold and colourful with an almost cartoon like cuteness and its definmately funky – with not a hint of glitter in sight.

I have this afternoon uploaded some new fairy giftware into the store, by the wonderfully talented Nemesis Now designer Jasmine Beckett-Griffiths. these outrageous little fairies have the widest, most appealing eyes and all look as though they may have some dirty little secret hidden away – perhaps stored in the casket upon which each of them sits?

Out of the pieces I have uploded I have two firm favourites, The Sectret of Notredame, and the Tribal Fairy. I would like to be able to come up with an excuse that would allow me to keep one of each for myself, but whichwever way i try to word it, I can’t seem to be able to justify it. But, if I was still a teenager or at least still able to carry off the appearance of the closet goth buried deep within me, I’d have a house filled to the brim with all of the stuff I love, rather than the sensible grown up home I have!

A Snail Did It!

I have never been a fan of gardening, unless of course, that means sitting in a patio with a glass of wine tugging at stray pieces of grass! This is why, when I bought my house the gardens featured quite heavily in the decision. Call it naive, but I assumed that the garden I saw when viewing the house, would be the same garden I would have when I moved in. It’s a simple mistake to make, you’d think that a garden would be a stationary thing, not something that would ‘move out’ when the seller moved house. I was wrong.

I thought I was moving into house that had a lovely cottage style rear garden, complete with flowers, shrubs and rustic garden bench. When I moved in the flowers had disappeared, the shrubs were gone and there wasn’t a bench in sight, rustic or otherwise. What I did have was a large expanse of bare earth, a drain cover and some broken tubs and containers. I was not amused. Rather than having a wonderfully colourful and fragrant outside space to relax in, I was looking at an eyesore.

I have tried many times to try and get the garden to look pretty, I have dug, weeded, planted, watered and done all of things that I am supposed to do but all that grows are weeds, I can’t even identify them, no one can tell me what they are, but boy are they rampant. They have strangled everything I have tried to grow, they practically grow overnight and they are a haven for snails, slugs and all manner of horrid squirmy things.

The snails are another issue, at certain times of the year, the windows at the rear of the house look like they have been used overnight as a race circuit, the garden path shines with a silvery lattice work and occasionally there is the sickening sound of shell crunching underfoot, it turns my stomach. But, the snails have had their uses.

I have a young son, who like any child accumulated a lot of different sized balls all over the garden. In another half hearted attempt to remove my unidentified fast growing plant life, I attacked the garden with some shiny new shears, only to get so far along before the sound of a puncture and the whoosh of escaping air was heard. I’d sliced right through his red ‘Postman Pat’ football, which had been completely hidden by large green leaves. Not knowing what to say, I tried to move the casualty without him seeing, but as eagle eyed as ever he spotted the remains and let out a cry of dismay. Thinking on her feet my teenage daughter jumped in and said ‘The snails did it!’ Sounds ridiculous, but at three years old, he believes it and still blames the snails for all of the balls that go missing. If you ask him, he will tell you that snails are nasty and like to bite footballs with their sharp teeth. Perhaps this will stop him from teasing girls with snails and slugs when he’s a little older, who knows? But for now, I still have an eyesore of a garden, but unlike many others, mine is inhabited by snails with sharp gnashing teeth.