Sweet Heart

Have you ever tried to read blogs with a child talking in the background? A child who talks continuously? We had a deal; she wanted to play My Horse & Me on her PlayStation, so I had a bright idea to sit at the computer for the duration and catch up on blog reading. The office is next door to Amy's bedroom, and Amy never stops talking. She talks to the television, her dolls, the remote control, telling me in between what she's doing, so blog reading was proving rather difficult. Earlier in the afternoon I had made the mistake of allowing her to have a glass of blue Powerade; it looks disgusting, probably tastes disgusting, and makes a hyper child even more hyper. We all make mistakes as parents, this was an almighty clanger on my part.

After me asking politely that she "be quiet, just for five minutes", I think she managed it for about five seconds. The blue crap went down the sink and I gave up on blog reading, deciding to hunt for the sweeping brush instead, in order to sort the kitchen floor out. But I was saved from domesticity once more, when Amy came into the office just as I was about to depart, with a rather odd shape protruding from her chest area. "What have you got up your jumper?" I asked, wondering if she was trying to grow up too soon. "It's my heart," she replied, laughing. "What is it?" I asked again, a little worried that she had been watching too much iCarly and H2-0. "It's my heart," she replied once again, removing it to show me the reason why unconditional love is the best feeling in the world.

Please pop over to Living with Kids to read my short guest post on the debate between MMR and autism.

The Age of the Soul Mate

I was looking at my wedding album the other night. I keep it under a wardrobe in our bedroom. It's only seven years in May since the Farmer and I got married but I feel as if I have known him all my life. I was 31 when we got together. He was 51. I never thought I would find my soul mate, but I did.

Now, I think about him being 60, about me having just turned 40. I wonder how life will be in another twenty years, whether he will still be up at all hours during the lambing, whether I will finally learn how to use the Aga properly. And then I smile and remember how it doesn't matter because he's my soul mate, and I am his.

When we first met it never occurred to me that the chances of us not growing old together weren't very high. It obviously didn't matter. Being in love was too important and much too wonderful to think about the practicalities of being old.

I sometimes feel a little sad knowing that it could be the case I will one day be on my own, albeit with Amy and my loving family around me, but without the soul mate I was lucky to find. My love for the Farmer is strong enough to carry me through the years in which we may lose together, but the feelings we have for each other will always see us through these wonderful years of which we are able to spend together now.

With the Bad, comes the Good

The lovely Ann, of Inkpots & Quills, has tagged me. I had to think hard about this one for it's the "wonderful things of 2009" tag. I don't mean to sound morbid but financially, it was a crap year; losing my carer's allowance being one of the biggest blows after only one of our five barley fields passed for malt. For those of you who don't know about malt barley, it's the ingredient that goes into making malt whisky, and is very lucrative to an arable farmer. For example, (not exact figures but...) a tonne of ordinary barley would sell for around £80 on a good day; a tonne of malting barley sells for around £150 minimum. So you can see why we suffered. We lost a huge amount of potential profit last year which probably added to the stress in which no doubt brought on my epileptic seizures in November, thus stopping me from driving for twelve months.

Okay, so that's depressing. Let's cheer up. Last year brought a change in Amy's school; a wonderful change to which she adapted surprisingly well. She has made new friends, is showing definite signs of growing up (sometimes not a good thing!!) and has really settled in well. I'm more than proud of her.

Last year also took us to Center Parcs in August, just Amy and me, whilst the Farmer slaved on the tractor. It was one of the most amazing holidays.

Last year also found the Farmer, Amy and me in Scotland at the beautiful Dunkeld Hilton, our favourite hotel and one of great sentiment. Again, a wonderful time was had and we are hoping to go later this year once the harvest is done and dusted.





But wait, I forgot to mention the highlight of the year; Sparky gave birth to six absolutely, totally, utterly, staggeringly beautiful puppies. We sold four and kept two, Bonnie & Meggie. So I guess last year wasn't that bad after all. Once you start remembering the bad things, its hard not to think about the good. Oh, and I was forty in December. Not sure if that was good, or bad!

Bendapenis

Thank you for all your kind comments re my beloved puppy, Meggie. Quick update: no broken bones thank goodness. Seems she could have been bitten, possibly by a rat, whilst in her kennel, and the wound has become infected. Vet took bandages off and has given a week's course of antibiotics. Meggie seems a lot brighter and happier, busy licking wound. No more kennel for puppies. They can sleep in the house from now on! Farmer, on the other hand.....

Amy is a very innocent child. She giggles at the usual giggly bits when she catches me in the bath, and doesn't think twice about joining me in the toilet to tell me some interesting tale about iCarly and her latest adventures. For Christmas she got a box of Bendaroos, which are strange pipe cleaner-like contraptions which twist and bend, enabling you to make a sculpture. Being rather creative, this was a very worthwhile present to give Amy, she has spent hours twisting and bending and making unusual designs of which, to be fair, are particularly impressive.


Then she made this. "It's a flower, for you, mum," she said. I thanked her, naturally. Then took a photo of it so I could show you too.

Get your minds out of the gutter, ladies !!

Words Mean So Much

The older we get, the more meaningful songs we are able to collect. Life is full of memories, some good, some bad, and very often do we remember these times with a song, usually popular at the time the memory was formed. A lot of the songs which have special meaning to me were popular in the 80's; for me, the decade of incredible music. Then, during the 90's, I became hooked on Celine Dion and George Michael. Both artists carried me through a very odd two years in my life when I got divorced and lived on my own for a while. It seems daft to say it, but they weren't bad times and most of the songs I listened to on their albums have meaning, reminding me of different emotions I faced, and the challenges which lay ahead.

But in 2001, as some of you know, my beloved dad passed away and my whole world was turned upside down. Amy was 18 months old. But during the last eight and a half years since losing my dad and moving to Northumberland, I have many memories and beautiful thoughts, some of them often triggered by songs.

I think it was about two years ago now when I first heard "Immortality: We Don't Say Goodbye", sung sensationally by Celine Dion and The Bee Gees. The title says it all for me. I bought Celine Dion's album having never heard this song but when I listened to it I realised it would be the one I would always sing for my Dad. The words are incredibly fitting, and it's a very beautiful song; please do listen to it if you can and you will see what I mean.

My Poor Meggie

Somewhat of an emergency this morning; when the Farmer got the puppies out of the kennel he noticed Meggie was unable to put her left, front paw down. She whimpered, obviously in pain, even though she managed to eat a full bowl of food. But needs must, and we made a quick dash to the vet in order to get her checked over, only to learn that she has a possible break in a small bone near her paw. How on earth she's done it we don't know. There's nothing she could have done such an injury on in her kennel so we can only assume she was engaged in usual play-fighting with Bonnie over night. My beautiful Meggie.

She was feeling ever so sorry for herself, lapping up the attention from the Farmer and me. The vet put her leg in a splint, unable to determine for definite whether it is indeed a break. Unfortunately, the area is obviously too painful to touch. My beautiful Meggie is now totally bandaged up with splint to hold her leg secure. In order to stop her getting muddy outside during toilet time, I have wrapped an Asda bag around the bandage. Re-cycling gone mad!

On our return home, the Farmer lifted her out of the car and she bounded into the house, totally refreshed, showing no signs of pain, and very obviously glad to be home. I almost cried. I hate it when my animals are poorly. We have to take her back on Monday when hopefully the vet will be able to examine it a little more closely. In the meantime, she's on painkillers, bandages, and a whole lot of Tender Loving Care.

Being a 10 Year Old

There are many events in Amy's day to day life that remind me of how I used to be when I was her age, mainly because I realise how much more I understood as a ten year old. I wasn't very academic, quite average in fact, preferring the back of the class to the front, being easily influenced by my peers. My friend, Ali, and I, used to have "Monopoly Marathons" which went on for days, occasionally ending in an upturned board and both of us scrambling about on hands and knees trying to find hotels. They were the carefree days when we wore long dresses to go out somewhere special. Keeping our shoulders warm with a stole. Remember them? I remember going on holiday with Ali to Bournemouth when we were ten and winning a dictionary in a dancing competition. I still have it on my shelf today.

The amazing thing about the dictionary was that after my dad had passed in July 2001, my brother was clearing out his office and found the dictionary in his cabinet. I always wondered where it went. Now of course, it has pride of place, with a huge amount of sentiment attached.


But you see, Amy doesn't understand the concept of a dictionary, nor does she understand Monopoly, unlike me at her age. There are many things she finds difficult to understand, yet sit her in front of the dogs and she trains them within minutes. They look at me as though I've got two heads.

I so want to teach her how to play Monopoly and Cluedo (another game I used to love), but I fear so much that she may not have the ability to understand due to her autism. I try to stay positive, optimistic about the future. For her sake, if not for the love of Monopoly.

p.s. I'm the thin one!

Single File - Blog for Haiti

Our bins haven't been emptied for almost 4 weeks. Who cares. I can't get to the shop for bread. Who cares. There are pot holes in the road, litter left by the verges, muddy puddles every where. Who cares. We have had a diabolical period of horrendous weather and impossible conditions; in some areas, not very much has been done about it, we have been left to fend for ourselves, clear our own roads, rely on the decency of our neighbours. It does matter. It matters to us that we live our day to day lives, unable to trust that assistance is within reach, fighting to fill the freezer just in case another winter wonderland stops us in our tracks.

And then we switch on the TV. We find that we are not alone. Far from it. We wonder when millions of people will get their bins emptied, who will care. We ask where their next loaf of bread will come from, who will care. Some of us cry as we watch babies being pulled from the rubble; as we try to understand the devastation in a country touched by bravery. Bodies lined up in bags, some burnt so as to clear the stench of death. Men, women and children holding out their hands as they desperately ask for help. Perhaps we can be that person, the one who helps, however small. Perhaps we can contribute to putting a smile on a face that is lost amongst confusion and fear. We care. God Bless.

http://www.dec.org.uk/

Are you a Twit?

I made a breakthrough at last. It's taken a while but with a little determination on my part, and a few cheeky pleas, I managed to get the hang of Tweetdeck. Well, okay, I say get the hang of, I have been using it and sharing in conversations with some lovely friends I've made online, but to be honest, I haven't a clue what I'm doing.

I was quite mortified when I posed the question on British Mummy Bloggers Twitter group as to whether other people could see the point in Twitter, whether they understood it and whether or not it was just me. Answers kind of left me a little disheartened when I realised it was just me, with the odd exception of who had found it confusing to start with but were addicted to it after a short while. I am such a technophobe, it's pathetic. I spend so much time on my computer, joining this site and that, registering my blog with endless directories around the globe, and getting to know people on Facebook, one would really think I'd be an expert in this field. But I guess I should stick to sheep.

Not that I'm an expert in them either.

The Farmer walked in at one stage, asking if I wanted a cuppa. "Are you coming down?" he asked, in other words, "are you making it?" but when I replied that I would continue on my quest for Tweetdeck fellowship, he seemed quite put out, shortly after bringing me a cup of tea, and no biscuits.

I spent an hour and a half fannying about with buttons, clicking here and clicking there, desperately trying to make people think I was clever, and failing miserably. I did however, manage to get my Tweets off my Facebook page which was becoming very annoying. I hadn't realised I was telling Facebook what a knob head I was because I didn't understand Twitter. But with the help of my good friend, Elaine, and a couple of Facebook friends, I managed to remove my Tweets from my Facebook page and at last log off. If any one's into Twitter/Tweetdeck and wants to follow me, my ID is http://twitter.com/CrystalJigsaw (I think), and I will follow you back.

Precious Moment

You may have seen the "Favourite Photo" meme doing the rounds. I have been tagged by the lovely bloggers, Experiment Mum, Island Mum of 2 and Single Motherhood Challenges. As I have hundreds of photographs which I could say are my favourite, I decided to delve into my digital archives and pick out the one which always stands out, and is in a large frame on the television cabinet in my lounge. I have to confess, I didn't take the photograph (obviously), it was taken by a journalist's photographer after I had an article published in our local paper about living with autism.

Rosehill: Open for Business

It's a start and I know it isn't much but I managed to write around 500 words yesterday in the book. Like I say, it's a start. I've had rather a long break due to being ill in November and could have gone back to it before Christmas, but I chose not to, even after having a kick up the backside from my good friend, Pat. After having a very worthwhile conversation with her around mid December, she made me realise that I have been spending far too much time on research and facts, and not enough time on actual writing and widening my imagination. The book is fiction, fantasy, and it's up to me how it pans out. If I get some of my facts wrong so be it; it's all part of the mysterious and fantastical fabrication of my story. I know delving into the paranormal is not every one's idea of entertainment, nor is it interesting to some, but I hope to create my ideas into a book which most can, and will, enjoy. I wrote the following short extract just before my epilepsy took hold and turned me into a hermit.

It had started to rain, large, heavy drops knocking against the window like desperate tears falling from the sky. We lay together, staring at nothing which seemed to hypnotise our thoughts. I was in my mid forties, he was approaching fifty, neither of us could forget what we once had, yet both of us constantly reminded ourselves of what we couldn’t have. The middle of the day caused a threat to exposure, someone could have called at the house, Marcus perhaps, even Alex. But Rosehill remained quiet, albeit for the sound of the rain now making its mark upon the once dry ground. I could have lay there forever, knowing it was a place we both wanted to be. He was the first to move, lifting my head carefully from his chest. I watched him as he dressed, his beauty overwhelming my thoughts once more. He was graceful, refined in the way he moved, the way he leant over and kissed me. I felt it was goodbye. Turning over, now facing the wardrobe, I was somewhat saddened by his kiss. I heard his car leave the drive, hurriedly, a desperate bid to make the excuse he needed.

It was something I had never done, vowed never to do. Now I had even betrayed myself, and what for? Sex? Love? Lust? I couldn’t answer the question for I did not know. For some reason I needed to see Marcus, to look into his eyes and see if I could banish the last hour from my mind. But it wouldn’t have helped. The guilt I felt was beyond my own comprehension as the tears came, rain inside my heart finally falling as I reached out for my grandmother’s hand.

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It's only a first copy, in need of editing and reading through a hundred times. But I'm beginning to lead up to a very exciting part for my main character, one which will change her life forever. She has romantic encounters and mysterious visitors, not to mention a pregnant threat to her happiness. But she is a strong character, very determined, afraid of little, yet knowledgeable of so much. She might be likeable to some, hated by others, but she is someone I have created and during the time I have been writing the book, she has become a part of my life. I think about her sometimes, wondering if I am like her in any way, wondering where I found the ideas to create her character. She has no children, she lives alone, but she inspires me; she interests me and continues to inundate my creative thoughts.

A Farmer's Luck

Have you ever had a bath in the middle of the afternoon? I took the plunge on Saturday, after freezing my bits off trying to shovel snow away from the grids, hoping to release the pressure on the water pipes, which unfortunately, have been frozen. The icicles which have formed on the pipes are looking pretty scary and the Farmer, throwing caution, not to mention health and safety to the wind, got the ladders and climbed up the wall, me precariously holding on for dear life, whilst he bashed a spade against them. Most of them came away, without injuring either of us but others were too far up and he eventually saw the danger in going any further.

Our Aga, a huge and particularly ugly piece of furniture which has stood in the kitchen since the mid 60's, has the responsible job of heating the water and it is always a good idea to run the hot so as to cool down the cylinder which holds said hot water. A complicated system as far as I am concerned, but one which has worked in this house for many years, and one which will, hopefully, go on working for many more. The Farmer laughs when I tell him we don't need the Aga; I rarely cook in it and as our Combi Boiler is capable of heating the water, we could save ourselves some extremely unnecessary bills. We could also free up some space in the kitchen, maybe have a nice comfy sofa. For the dogs.

So there I was, 2.30 on Saturday afternoon, up to my neck in steaming, lavender scented bubbles, eyes closed, thinking of Martin Shaw and David Tennant, and me, when in walks a ten year old, armed with story book and packet of quavers. No peace for the wicked is there. She made herself comfortable on the wicker chair in the bathroom, opened the crisps, and began to read me "Farmer Duck", a story about a very lazy farmer who stays in bed all day, eating chocolates and barking orders at his farm duck. "He's a lazy beggar," said Amy. "He's a lucky beggar," said I.

What Makes You Happy

I haven't done a MeMe for a long time and when The Wife of Bold tagged me recently, I thought I'd take her up on it and have a go. I tell you so much about me and my family that I always think I'm just boring you with MeMe's. However, here it is, some of the simple things that make me happy. I have decided to name just 5 instead of the required 10; hope that's not cheating.

1. Putting on my pj's early in the evening, usually around 7.30, tucking myself up in bed, and watching the television. I don't go out much. But that's how I like it.

2. Filling up the hen's feeding bins and watching them peck at their newly supplied pellets. They can't speak of course but to see 40 hens flock around me is really quite rewarding.

3. Knowing I have taken my medication on time. Really. I take it at 12 hourly intervals, 7.30am & 7.30pm.

4. Having an empty linen box. I'm very undomesticated and it is a good feeling to know that I don't need to put any washing in.

5. Switching on my computer, logging onto my blog, and finding it's been read.

There are other things that make me happy like listening to Amy laugh, seeing my husband walk through the door after his usual hard graft, telling my mum that I love her, welcoming friends and family into my home. Oh, and watching the snow melt. I could go on and make this post far too long to keep you interested, but I won't. Instead, I'll leave you with a few photos taken this week. I'm not sure if I am supposed to tag some of you but I would rather just leave it open and give you all the option to do this MeMe. I think it's a great way to get to know each other.

You can see Bamburgh Castle over the fields

My Meggie, with a snowy nose

My Meggie showing me how deep the snow is

Amy's Wendy House

Trying to build a snow man

Sparky digging for gold (or trying to find the bone she hid last year)

Release the Pause

It seems to have been a long time since I have reported on the unusual happenings which occur in and around the farm house. But whilst I have been happily reminiscing about years gone by, sharing tales of those days which almost seem a life time ago, the atmosphere within the walls of this beautiful old house has, I am pleased to say, not disappointed my questioning thoughts. The festive season passed without any dramas, the odd audios made me turn my head from time to time, and I could have sworn someone stood in the kitchen watching me baste the turkey, but it was peaceful, harmonious even. The days leading up to the new year were a little on the hectic side as my sister and her four year old daughter stayed with us, and again, I did not feel any additional presence from the other side of life.

But since the turn of the new year I have noticed varying degrees of ambience as I walk around the house. There have been several times when I have felt very definitely not alone, even though the house has been empty, barr me; the guest room filled with unknown guests, the stair case harbouring an entity perhaps other than My Lady. The mirror with a thousand faces has shown me those other than my own whilst the kitchen has been a hype of activity to awaken my senses. There are times when I speak aloud, my head knowing there is no one present, yet my mind turning the pages as the words continue to flow.

The festivities have come to an end and I suppose life resumes its normal stance; having had the feeling often that someone else roams around the house, it is as though life for them too has returned to a normal existence. They can once more gather their chains, turn the handle, and remind me that I am not alone. The beginning of a new year has always been a little disheartening for me, having just fastened the box on the decorations, wondering what the year will have in store, and thinking, with perhaps a little sadness, that my favourite festive season has once more drawn to a close. But I cannot say the same this time; I have a smile tearing through my heart and I feel contentment as my confidence seems to be returning. I do not know what this year will bring, but I do know that my house holds many memories within its walls, and my presence is adding to the recordings in which someone else will experience.

Put me on a Plane

I'm beginning to dread looking out of the window. The best forecast for our rather wintry weather recently has been to watch the outside, the television forecasters don't seem to understand that people actually live, and, amazingly, have to move about, in the very north of the county of Northumberland. The county is quickly running out of grit for our roads, as is the rest of the country I know, but I ask you; it's winter, the time of year for snow and icy conditions. Not even Mystic Meg could have predicted the amount of snow we have endured over the last few weeks but this is getting beyond a joke now. Children can't get into schools, people can't get to work, and my local convenience store is running out of supplies because lorries can't get into the village to deliver. The country has come to a stand-still because it's winter.

Amy's off school today because the roads are so treacherous. She's got her music on full blast, is wandering round the house with a mouth organ, and keeps asking, "Mum...?" We have a 4x4 which gets through the snow but too many people are stranded, unable to get out of their houses and walk down the road to their local shops. In the year 2010 I find it pathetic that local councils are running out of help. And I imagine it all boils down to money. As per. But in the meantime I'll build a snowman with Amy, then ask him the way to Antarctica. Maybe they've got some grit going spare.

Some pictures of our very snowy farm, and land.

Door to my Heart Strings

It's my baby's birthday today. She won't appreciate me calling her 'my baby' of course, but so often do I wish she could rest in my arms while I rock her to sleep. These days however, I settle for a snuggle as I lie next to her. You already know so much about Amy, I have opened up to you about her life as she continues to see the world through alternative eyes. Her ambitious dreams will carry her through, with me in her sights, perhaps a few steps behind. She is one of the most amazing people I know; she never gives in, whatever she tries to achieve. She has taught me about life, how rewarding it is to just live, day by day. I never thought I could love someone as much as I do Amy, but she has made me realise that my heart beats for a reason other than to keep me alive.

I am trying to think of something I haven't already told you about Amy; she was born at 2.47pm in Bolton Hospital, she weighed 7lbs, 11oz, and her birth was, as most mothers will tell you, worth all the pain when I saw her face for the first time. Something changed inside me that day, something I didn't even know existed. To this day I cannot describe what it was, but I can tell you that I started to understand the true meaning of unconditional love. After years of wondering what it felt like to love someone in this way, I had finally been given my chance to step forward and learn about the incredible emotion that my own parents felt about me.

The end of a year will always be a busy time for us, as we say goodbye to the old and welcome in the start of the new before celebrating another birthday with Amy. There is an old saying, "when one door closes, somewhere, another will open". The new path I took when Amy was born opened up a whole new life for me, perhaps one I knew nothing about, perhaps one I did not expect, but it has been the most wonderful experience; one that has given me riches beyond my wildest dreams.

Happy New Year!

A very happy new year to one and all. Let's look forward to it with hope and determination. I have made one or two resolutions, whether they will last till the end of January is another thing, but I'll have a try. One of them is to get my book finished. Something I hoped would be achieved by the end of 2009 but due to my unexpected illness it took a back seat. Now however, being unable to drive anywhere and on most days confined to the house, I have no excuse that time is against me. I won't give myself a deadline; it has already been proven that looking around the corner only reveals darkness, and so I shall take each day at a time, knowing in my heart that finishing the book is an achievement I wish to fulfill.

With Love and Best Wishes for a wonderful 2010. If you have any unusual resolutions, I would love to hear about them.
CJ xx