For the love of cat...

Life has been kind to me. I have a home, a family, my health and I love and am loved. I also have a cat - he is old and sleeps a lot, but he is affectionate and adorable.

It wasn't always like this. At one point I was pretty sure I would be alone and childless and loveless. A bit dramatic ? Well maybe, but it was pretty much how I felt at the time. I had left a marriage with someone who was controlling and manipulative. My confidence was at it's lowest point. I was in debt, back living with my parents and so very sad. In a desperate attempt to get myself out of this funk I started internet dating. I moved in with my lovely friend and put myself 'out there' as they say. I had never dated in my teens or at uni so it was all new to me.

There are so many life lessons I could share from this period of my life, but I'm pretty sure that for everyone else the experience of going on dates (or just 'going out' as we call it here - dating seems to be a peculiarly American phenomenon) is just a normal part of growing up. In my family we didn't do that kind of thing. My parents didn't approve of having girlfriends or boyfriends and the idea that we might go out with someone with no intention of marrying them was anathema. I pretty much married the first guy I dated. It didn't work out so that tells you all you need to know doesn't it ?

When I was going on dates I realised that there was a whole other language of relationships that I was unaware of and that I just was not versed in. It was a world away from the friendships I had and the honesty of being with people who you trust. I have always had male friends and it was perfectly normal for me to talk to them and spend time socialising with them. It didn't prepare me for the idiocy of dating though. I couldn't stand the really brash guys who would try to impress by showing off, they were just too much. I was a bit Shania Twain about it all really.

Then there were the men who had been married or living with someone, had broken up and were now looking for a replacement. To be honest so was I so it's not exactly a criticism. I think I was being a bit fairer than they were though. I was prepared to see how it went and to give them the benefit of the doubt. Oh so you own CDs by the Dixie Chicks ? It's ok I'm sure you're ok otherwise. Nope I was wrong. I found myself trying so hard to convince them that I was worth their while that I wasn't even considering if they were worth mine. In a lot of cases we just weren't well matched at all. A lot of these guys in their mid to late 30s were looking to settle down and in most cases did not long after. I think straight men have a 'use by date' and if they don't get married by it then they remain resolutely single. Of course Warren Beatty is they exception to this rule. And pretty much all rules I guess.

I went out on dates with men who I would never under any circumstances have come into contact with otherwise. The chap who lived upstairs from the Conservative Club and whose parents were lifelong Tories. Sorry Chris I could have called that one before we met if I'd known. The one who looked like a young Elton John (no disrespect to you Reg, but you're just not my type and I know I'm not yours !) and who told me about how he had a row with his neighbour and practised Tai Chi on public transport. It wasn't destined to be a great love affair.

It is easy to be cynical about internet dating, but I know people who have gone on to have very successful relationships with someone they met online. It cuts out some of the stuff that you just don't get if your eyes meet across a crowded room. It can take ages to realise that this person will always be late to meet you, or that they have smelly feet, or they chew really loudly, or talk through movies, etc. (all punishable offences by the way). What you have with meeting in real life though is the taking time to get to know someone. I have had a crush on someone then when I got to know them realised they weren't for me, but it could be a great friendship.

Plenty of people meet in every day situations, maybe working together and seeing each other every day which eventually leads to a relationship - possibly due to proximity. I worked with a woman who was dating the director of the charity and it was blindingly obvious to everyone despite their protestations to the contrary. It is frowned upon in some firms, but to be honest if you work long hours or in a stressful profession it's hardly surprising.

Of course I haven't even mentioned the whole concept of love at first sight. Oh yes fireworks and stars in the eyes . I mean proper wobbly legs and flustered speech. The whole nine yards. Thankfully it was mutual - it's rotten when you have all the feelings and they aren't returned. What it does mean - however - is that all common sense goes straight out of the window. You are entirely blindsided by the hormone response and forget to think. Well I did anyway.

So what have I learned since the heady days of singledom ? Well, being alone means not having to make food if you don't want to. It means only having to clean up after yourself. It also means going some weekends without talking to anyone - which I now consider to be blissful. I wouldn't give up cuddles with my cat though. Or going in to check on my boys when they are asleep. Coming home and knowing that I can have a hug (with or without white fur dressing) doesn't suck.

On balance I think I've done ok.

I love you, but get out of my face before I punch you in yours.

I admit it's not a mantra that will rival anything by Rumi, Khalil Gibran or His Holiness the Dalai Lama. It's just that sometimes I have that Edward Norton in Fight Club vibe. No not the urge to steal women's thigh fat to make soap - and eww if you thought that !! I mean the fantasy where you punch someone to a pulp - not in a toothless and puffy faced Jared Leto, "I had to destroy something beautiful" way. Despite talking it up I am actually non-violent in my actions. So the intense feeling of wanting to punch and hit is not something I have ever acted upon.

I'm grateful that there is a movie that can vicariously deal with these emotions for me. It's important to be able to park feelings in a safe place when we can't deal with them. It's not always possible to 'resolve' difficult emotions so to be able to watch a movie and sob or laugh or grit my teeth in empathy with the characters is the next best thing to fixing it.

I've been reading about a Hindu goddess whose existence is all about being broken and growing from that brokeness. The idea is that in our lowest moments lie the seeds of great growth and personal development - I'm not sure about that, but I am pretty sure that feeling bad isn't going to kill me. I might find myself swearing or shouting at nothing in particular or in fact everything in the understairs cupboard that fell on me while I was trying to put some stuff away the other day.

Depression doesn't mean being down all the time. It may not even mean being sad a lot of the time. For me it often means being very angry for no reason at all. Being fine one minute and losing it the next over something so entirely meaningless that it's embarrassing.

Me: "Put your socks on boys."
Brown Bear: "..."
Blue Bear: "In a minute Mummy."

5 minutes pass

"Put your socks on now please."
Brown Bear: "..."
Blue Bear: "In a minute Mummy."
Me: "NO NOW !!"
(there follows a 2 minute rant at full volume)

See what I mean ?

It's not even being a bad parent, although on the evidence above you could be forgiven for thinking that. I worry that my sons may inherit my irritability and not be able to control their moods or lose their temper at absolutely nothing. I fear what they think when they witness it and do my best to hide the sadness and badness. This means they're not seeing the real me very much.

I don't mean to be ungrateful or unappreciative. Of course I count my blessings and I realise that there are so many people worse off than I am. That just compounds the belief in how bad I am for not being able to be happy when I have so much to be thankful for. 

Agood friend of mine was a 'functioning alcoholic' and I suspect I'm a 'functioning depressive' ie. I do the day to day stuff, keep house, make meals, take care of the boys and even manage to hold a range of voluntary roles. Surely depression means not being able to get out of bed ? Well I can get out of bed - slowly, but still. There are days when I am already worn out before I've begun the day, but I usually manage to function enough to make it through. I collapse at the end of the day going through in my mind all the bad things that I have done that day that make me a bad person.

I make myself do the things that I think a 'good person' would do. I mimic what I think a good person is. It never occurs to me that the mythical good person that I'm being might do the same. I believe that if I were genuinely a good person I would just do nice things without thinking, "Oh look at me aren't I a good person doing this good thing?" That reminds me that I'm not really good after all. 

It's not always possible to dismiss bad thoughts or feelings and when other people remind me of my faults it reiterates how awful I am. I'm doing my best. It clearly isn't good enough. It's as if I'm not in control of my emotions. I've been feeling massive waves of grief. Earlier in the year I mentioned to Hubbie how I was really surprised that I was coping without breaking down. I had no idea it was waiting there for me. Just biding its time.

Hubbie was away overnight earlier this week and when the boys were asleep I was sitting on the sofa with Neo scrolling through facebook (me, not him). I saw a memory where I talked about taking part in the Moonwalk with Soraya and she had made a lovely comment. A few minutes later I was wracked with sobs and unable to stop myself from asking, "Why her ? It's not fair. It's just not fair."

This evening I was listening to Ruby Wax on Radio 4 talking about mental health. It's gone from being a topic that was never ok to discuss to being pretty much everywhere. I still feel odd talking about it. Not least as I worry the person I've told will use it against me. I've never talked about depression or anxiety with my family even though they have been directly affected by mine most of my life. Hubbie is the exception and I'm already trying to find age appropriate ways to talk to my sons. I want to reassure them that my outbursts are about me and not them.

I haven't watched Fight Club in ages. I haven't metaphorically kicked anyone in the head in a while. I run and swim to manage my moods. I make sure I eat regularly and drink plenty of water to keep well. This weekend we all spent a sunny afternoon in my parents' garden while the boys played with their cousin. As we were all there we bribed the boys with ice lollies and cake so they would sit still for photos. It was such a lovely family moment and yet I felt as if I was watching it all from behind glass.

At this point it is hard to believe I'll ever feel 'normal' ever again. It's like my head is under water and every so often I pop up to catch my breath. In those brief moments it seems possible that things will get better. All I have to do is keep having those moments and notice them.

Happy tenth anniversary Neo

Firstly: Get a drink of your choice (not judging, if you want a beer for breakfast you go for it).

Secondly: If you are of an emotional disposition make sure you have a handkerchief or a box of tissues - just in case. 

Finally: Settle down somewhere comfy - preferably with a pet for company and read this: 

It occurs to me that we are now a nuclear family. Brown Bear - our 'miracle' baby that yoga, a low-fat diet and sheer bloody-mindedness built. Oh and a champagne-filled New Year (he was born in Sept, you do the maths). Blue Bear - his literal brother from another mother - whose personality and appearance are uncannily like Hubbie. Not forgetting Neo who I see as the .4 of our 2.4 children as he is significant enough to be counted, but not entirely a half. 

Three years ago Neo noticed some changes in the household. The small human who had been around for a while now was almost fully trained. He was able to open the cat food cupboard and put biscuits into a bowl. The mini one no longer chased him or pulled his tail and was malleable enough to lie with on his bed at night. Brown Bear and Neo had forged an alliance that was ridiculously cute to witness. He had pretty much got this one to the point that he didn't need us any more (apart from tins - the little one couldn't quite do tins yet and reaching taps was a bit of an issue). Then suddenly the cot reappeared. The buggy came out of storage. He was banished from our bedroom at night. A new small human came to visit a few times. A little bit longer each time. Then one day he didn't go away any more. 

The smallest one didn't just sleep a lot like a baby would - he was walking and made noises. He slept in the cot next to our bed and would reach his hand out to check I was there. I got used to sleeping with my hand out so he could touch it when he needed reassurance. We also had to sleep with the light on as he was scared of the dark. That first night we got both boys to sleep by 8pm and were high-fiving each other and congratulating ourselves on what amazing parents we are. I almost made a space on the shelf for whatever trophy it is they give you for being the best at this sort of thing. The Oscars of Adoption if you will. Our smug celebration was shattered by the sound of crying. Brown Bear was a great sleeper so we hadn't experienced this much before. He wakes up before the sparrows, but he always slept through unless he was ill. Blue Bear was not just a different kettle of fish, but an entire shoal of unfamiliar oceanic activity. 

We took it in turns to try and soothe Blue Bear to sleep. After a few hours I put him in the car seat and drove laps to calm him down and to give the others - and our neighbours - a break. Nothing was working. Blue Bear was crying, I was crying, and we had no idea what to try next. Finally we managed to calm him down enough to go back to sleep. It was not long after that I got a text from his foster family asking how he was. I told them he had been upset, but was finally sleeping now. That single message was a lifeline - for us and for them. I can only imagine what Neo must have thought about the noise, the unpredictability of this new one and the shattered peace in this household he had so finely crafted.  

Seven and a half years ago I went away for three nights. Neo kept looking for me. He had been taking care of me and bump while I was on maternity leave and often slept on my tummy - well until the bump hoofed him and he looked a bit put out. He was such an active baby that we called him Jiggly Puff.  I told Brown Bear this today and he was amused at the revelation that he would sleep all day while I was moving and dance all night when I wanted to sleep. Hubbie brought me and the baby home after three days during which Uncle Adrian had been feeding Neo. I went straight over to cuddle the cat and he miaowed at me stricken that I had been away for so long. In the sprawl of balloons and cards and infant paraphenalia I don't think he even saw the baby. We introduced them and Neo looked unimpressed and went over to his food bowl. We didn't see much of the cat in those early days. 

Neo has always been an adventurer and would be outdoors all day and often we had no idea where he was. With a tiny baby in the house he made himself pretty scarce. Maybe it was the change of routine that he took issue with. It might have been the lack of attention to him since this interloper had arrived. It might even have been that he wanted to give us space. We just don't know. At bedtime, however, it was a different story. He would always go in and check if the baby was asleep before he would go to bed himself. He still does this now and will pop his head round the kids' doors and miaow at them if they are not in bed. He lies with Brown Bear and doesn't come downstairs until the boy is asleep. I often go in to check on them and see the most adorable scene of brotherly love. Blue Bear is put out that Neo won't sleep on his bed, but he does move almost 360 degrees during the night which makes it logistically a bit difficult. Neo is an old cat now and doesn't appreciate being shoved around too much. 

Ten years ago we went to Battersea Cats and Dogs Home to bring Neo home with us. As we tried to leave every one of the volunteers came to wish him well and to tell us what a lovely boy he was. The vet checked him over and when we went to make the suggested donation we were told it was ok they didn't expect any money as he had a heart murmur and they didn't think he would be with us for long. Hubbie and I were insistent that they accept the donation whatever his prognosis. On the train home he was cooed at and fussed over by every other passenger. When we got home he got out of the basket and explored the house. He made for the back door only to be denied by a locked cat flap. As per the rules he stayed indoors and I would rush home from work to see him every afternoon. He hated using a litter box and made many efforts to break out of the house to explore. When the day came to let him out I stood in the garden as he disappeared over the fence. I don't think I breathed the whole time he was gone. What if he didn't come back ? Hubbie assured me he would. When Neo's small white furry body reappeared I was flooded with relief.

Today we celebrate ten years of living with Neo. A lot has changed. He now has a cauliflower ear, is on two different pills and a special diet for his kidneys. He lounges on a beanbag looking out at the garden rather than being in the garden. He still sheds white fur like you wouldn't believe. He now has two boys living in his house and when they are asleep he lies next to me on the sofa with his paws on me to make sure I don't get up. He has his seat on the sofa and if the boys are on it he will miaow at them to move - they do. Despite Hubbie's best efforts to keep Neo downstairs at night I still wake up to find a cat at the foot of our bed. Some days I wake up to find the boys in our bed as well and no sign of Hubbie as he's been uncermoniously shoved out. 

This is our little family. I love every last one of them with every fibre of my being. From meeting Hubbie and realising this was something special and whatever happened I didn't want him not to be in my life. To the cat who was only supposed to have half a year left to live. The baby we were told we'd never have. The boy we cannot imagine living anywhere other than with us. 

These guys are my everything. 

They are the beat of my heart. 

Spring has sprung. No really it has. Honest.

It's Spring, but no one has told the weather this apparently. This week began with snow and then today it was so sunny that I hung my swimming kit on the outside washing line. Ok so it's frozen solid now, but that's hardly the point. On the drive down to Lewes to record my radio show the sun was shining and I almost didn't take my coat with me to the studio. Of course I did wear it - I'm not a penguin.

I've always said that my favourite seasons are Spring and Autumn. For me they demonstrate the most change and the most promise of what's to come. Let's be honest - for a lot of us this year hasn't exactly promised much so far. Spring has to come soon and with it the blossom, the sunshine and some warmth. When Brown Bear was a baby I used to pick blossom from the trees and hang it from the canopy of his buggy so he could look up and see it as went for a walk. I loved showing him the beauty of nature and now that the boys go to forest school I'm delighted that they have a love of the outdoors and an interest in wildlife. Blue Bear will often pick up acorns, chestnuts or leaves and pop them in his pocket to show his teacher at nursery. It does mean I have to check carefully before putting his clothes in the wash though.

The other member of our family who loves nature is Neo. When he came to live with us from Battersea Cats and Dogs home he had been indoors for weeks and was desperate to go outside. He always loved sunbathing and we'd often find him lying in the sunniest patch of garden and when we moved to this house he loved the garden and the flat roof next door where he would jump up and lie all day. Moving only to follow the sun or to get a drink of water. He doesn't spend as much time outdoors any more and today as the sun streamed into the back room he stretched out on his beanbag and enjoyed the warmth without enduring the chill in the air.

I've often said I'd like to come back in my next life as my cat and on a day like today that is certainly true.

A reflection on time

Don't have time 

The one phrase that is guaranteed to annoy the hell out of me is, "I'm too busy." Not because I think it's not true. I trust that if someone has taken time out of their day to tell me they are busy they must really mean it. The reason it vexes me is because pretty much all of us have plenty enough to do. It's not a competition. Making time for others is my first choice. I might say I'm too busy if I don't want to do something, but it's unlikely.

In the nick of time 

On Sunday Brown Bear fell down the stairs. Well he almost did - in a moment of clarity that would have drawn appreciation from a ninja I caught him as he tumbled head first knocking the coats and a pot plant over as he went. Of course as soon as I'd checked he wasn't broken I shouted at him for falling - a panic response familiar to anyone who has looked after an accident prone child. He's still complaining that his elbow hurts, but since he was able to swim and play Sonic on the Sega Megadrive with Daddy yesterday after school I think it's a safe bet that he's going to be fine.

Before her time 

This phrase is so often used when someone passes away. It's true of so many and I'm still struggling to understand why my gorgeous friend died so young, so painfully and so quickly. I've listened as people have reassured me that it will make me value life more. That this happened for a reason and it will not have been for nothing. That her passing has given others the impetus to achieve in her name. For now, though, I'm still just very angry and sad. That's all I can cope with right now.

At the right time 

Our cat is getting old. He's on two pills - one for blood pressure and one for his kidneys and he has a special diet to support his weak kidneys. I know not everyone is soppy about animals and we do spoil him a bit as we are fortunate enough to be able to. As he gets frailer and spends more time indoors I want to make whatever time he has left with us happy and comfortable. It's the kind thing to do and he is one of the family. I can't think about a time when he won't be any more.

Time flies  

When I was a new mum everyone told me that the time would fly and before I knew it my Brown Bear would be a toddler and then a boy. I was advised when we adopted Blue Bear to write down my feelings and take plenty of photos because the memories would fade so quickly. I see them every day so I don't notice how much Brown and Blue have grown until it's startlingly obvious - like when they grow out of all their trousers at once. Recently I realised that Blue Bear is now confident, cheeky and outspoken. Brown Bear has a complicated social life with friends in different circles. I look at the photos and videos of them as babies and toddlers. Before Blue could speak, before Brown could walk. Before these little bears became brothers. They are my babies, yet I can already see the young men they will become. It really is happening so fast.

Take your time

I've always overextended myself and try to pack far too much into each day. I think it's because I don't like to let anyone down so I rarely say no to anything. Instead I end up trying to fit everything in and inevitably it leaves me tired and grumpy. I've spent the last year being schooled in how to practise 'self-care.' I'm still a work in progress at this. Spending time with Hubbie or with the children one to one has been a big change for me. Pacing myself and ensuring I also get enough rest is still a challenge though.

Quality time

The phrase does grate on me, but the sentiment behind it does not. It's often used to berate parents who are twitter shamed for being on their phones with a coffee cup in hand rather than playfully throwing their giggling toddlers into the air while expressing joy in the moment. A few years ago Hubbie asked me what I'd like for Mother's Day and I said I'd like him to take the boys to see Grandma. Friends and other mothers were horrified at my choice. I explained that I'm a Mum every day of the week and for just one day I wanted to just spend the day by myself. Last year I also booked a night away in a lovely hotel by myself. Now that is quality time for me.

Time is an illusion - Albert Einstein

What's white, furry and purrs a lot ?

It's hardly news that I love my cat. From the day we met him at Battersea Cats and Dogs home and he decided he was going to live with us we've been very close. When he first came to live with us I would rush home from work to see him as he wasn't allowed out for a few weeks and didn't like being inside. He's always been affectionate and friendly and when I was pregnant he used to lie down with me. As my belly grew bigger, Neo became more protective of me and the baby. Until the day Neo got an unexpected boot from the unknown family member while he was snoozing on my belly. It was very funny.

His relationship with us as a family has developed to include first one baby - who grew into a handsy toddler - then a new child who he has also taught to give him biscuits. He loves company and often sleeps on Brown Bear's bed. They are such great pals it's wonderful to see. When I'm home he comes to sit next to me and keeps me company. I will admit I do spoil him. He has a soft bed in most rooms in the house and I have a special fleece blanket for him to lie down on the sofa. Recently he started to drink from my glass of water so I now leave bowls of water all over the house for  him. It's just the decent thing to do isn't it ?

People are asking me how old Neo is now and when I tell them they reply with remarks like, "well that's a good age,' or "Oh he's an old man now." None of these comments inspire me to want to talk to them much further. According to the vet if he was a human he would be around 75 years old. He's doing far better than any human I know of that age range. In reality - of course - he is an ageing cat and that means he is becoming an old man. He is on medication and when I take him to the vet these days they take his blood pressure and check his heart rate. If you have never seen a cat having it's blood pressure taken it is definitely worth it. I'm not sure that Neo would agree.

Of course the unspoken part of all this is that he won't always be with us. It's not a thought I want to consider so when anyone asks me, "will you get another cat when he's gone ?" I swiftly end the conversation and move onto something else. After all at this point he is like any old man, he is grumpy, short tempered, often loses his temper and likes to sleep a lot. As I type this he is lying with his head against me and is purring. I like to think this is his retirement and he's making the most of it.

My life on TV

I'm a big fan of TV and watch far too much of it - ever since childhood. I used to watch the show that told you to 'switch off your TV and do something less boring instead' and stayed put until something genuinely less interesting was on. I sat through a lot of rubbish TV. As a result I know a lot of theme songs from shows and it's a handy skill to have for pub quizzes. The other thing I have learned from watching a lot of TV is that it's not often that art imitates life. I don't watch reality TV a a rule because I live reality and when I'm relaxing I want escapism. Not for me the banality of the partially true lives of inhabitants of Essex or Chelsea. However, there have been a few TV shows that have accurately depicted situations that have happened to me in real life. It's a bit freaky when that happens.


Eastenders: Now it's not a happy chapter of my life so I don't really go back there much. As I was having lunch with friends a while back I spoke about not remembering much of it in detail and one of my friends said, "Well PTSD will do that," and she has a point. The only really awful bit I ever really elaborate on is the one that I saw enacted dramatically by Little Mo when she stood up to her abusive husband Trevor. No I didn't attack my ex with an iron, but I did take it with me when I left - which was vindictive because I absolutely don't iron. It was pure spite on my part. I'm not proud of it, but to be honest it wasn't the worst thing I could have done. So we argued about petty things like the dish drainer and a plug stack and the friend who had come with me told me to just leave them. As I went to leave she went outside to wait by the van we had borrowed for the day and as I went to leave my ex decided to have his say about me leaving. This 6'4" man towered over me and threatened me. And I stood there - all 5' nothing of me - and said, "If you're going to hit me just get on with it. I've got things to do." He visibly shrank at my lack of fear - he just didn't know what to do. I told him he was a coward and a bully and I wasn't scared of him any more. He called the police and they sent two female officers who checked I was ok and ignored him completely. I left. No drama, no-one was hit by a household implement and there was no doof doof music. Still I did feel a moment of triumph when I saw Little Mo having an almost identical confrontation with her husband. It was then I felt proud of myself for standing up to him and leaving.

Monica and Chandler: There is very little about Friends that resembles reality. The ridiculous way that Rachel goes from unemployable spoilt, rich girl to successful fashionista in a very short space of time. Phoebe surviving on the money she makes as a masseur and terrible busker is just not believable on any level. And never forget that the whole Ross and Rachel relationship would just not occur in real life. He's a selfish, boring, petty man who offers absolutely nothing and she's already rich and doesn't struggle to meet good looking (straight) men, despite working in fashion - I know that's entirely realistic isn't it ? Anyway, the area in which I do see a similarity to my life is when Monica and Chandler have difficulty conceiving. It's one of the rare serious moments when Chandler tells Monica the bad news and they are heartbroken. On they day that Hubbie came home from his appointment he referenced this scene to soften the blow a bit. It kind of did. It also ensured I went into Monica mode and chose not to accept that there was nothing we could do. The rest is pretty well documented on this blog so I won't repeat myself.

Gavin and Stacey: There is a lot to love about this show. The fact that the families are named after serial killers is a stroke of genius. We watched an episode the other day where Pete shows off a hat that his wife Dawn bought him that bears the legend, "Pete Sutcliff loves golf." Stacey's mum even comments on how unfortunate it is that she goes from being a West to being a Shipman. Honestly if you don't find this stuff funny why are you even here ? So the point is pretty similar to the last one in that Gavin and Stacey are told they won't be able to have children. In one exchange they agree they will keep trying for a while and if nothing happens they will stop and think about other options. Stacey says, "It's sad isn't it ?" and every time I watch that scene it makes me cry. Yes it is very sad. When we were told that we were 'unlikley' to conceive we both sat in the reception of the fertility clinic and cried. I don't know how long we stayed there for, but it felt like a long time. On a much happier note, when we did find out that I was pregnant Hubbie exclaimed, "My balls work !" Just like Gavin does when they find out that Stacey is pregnant. I only did one test though - I didn't pee on a shoebox full of them.

Outnumbered: I never understood why people liked this show until I became a parent. Even then it wasn't until we had two of them. Ok, we're not strictly outnumbered as there are two of them and two of us, but as is pretty clear the cat is on their side - or he has recruited them to be honorary cats which is far more likely. So the main reason this show resonates with me is because Brown Bear is the spitting image of Ben. It has been evident since his curly hair kicked in and my sister even pointed it out. I suspect that Blue Bear is like Karen in that he is more considered and serious. Now I watch it and sympathise with Pete and Sue and their incessant attempts to keep ahead of their brood.

Miss Rabbit: Well this one is a joke that occured to Hubbie when it became clear that the character of Miss Rabbit from Peppa Pig does every job. It came about after I spoke about all the different jobs that I've done and he started to call me Miss Rabbit. It's a good call actually even though I'm not a helicopter pilot or a volunteer fire officer, but I have worked in a library. Anyway, Miss Rabbit has a pretty good work ethic and that's no bad thing is it ?

Curb Your Enthusiasm: We've been rewatching this show in preparation for the new series in October. It pains me to admit it, but I am really much more sympathetic towards Larry than I should be. Despite his selfish tendencies I honestly think he's more misunderstood than anything. I know he can appear to be a sociopath, but there is definitely an element of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time and not thinking before he speaks. I can identify with that.

Top cat - he's the boss cat.

You know how you don't notice people close to you getting older ? One day the kids are tiny and then seemingly in the blink of an eye all their trousers are too short and their shoes are too tight. I remember going to the funeral of an elderly aunt and as I parked up at the crematoriam I spotted my Mum with an old man sitting in her car. I asked my sister who the old guy was and she said, "That's Dad." I hadn't seen him for a few months since he'd stopped dying his beard hair and with his turban covering his hair I just didn't recognise him. It was a bit of a shock.

Up on the roof

Recently a few people have remarked on Neo's advancing years and have asked what we have planned for when he's no longer with us. Now I know there is no intention to be unkind, but I just don't think of him as an old cat. In my mind he's practically kitten-like in his leaping onto the neighbour's wall to sunbathe all day and his plaintive miaowing for food hits decibels previously only heard at a Metallica gig.

I know people make comments about pets being part of the family, but Neo really is. He sleeps on Brown Bear's bed and is an excellent childminder, giving the boy hard stares if he doesn't settle down to sleep without fuss. He always used to check on the boys when they were small and gave them a wide berth when they were at tail-pulling age. He's no fool that feline.

Relaxing on my beanbag

Then I noticed he's not grooming himself as fastidiously as he used to. His claws are longer and he gets them caught in the carpet sometimes. His fur is looking distinctly yellower and while he was always a champion sleeper he's really snoozy now. The vet told me the other day that he's the cat equivalent of a human 75 year old and considering how inactive my father and father-in-law are at the same age I think he's doing pretty well in comparison.

He helps Brown Bear with homework:

He's still able to supervise train track building:

And his skills at hide and seek are legendary:

So, yes my cat is a senior now. He is showing signs of old age and does need some help to keep him comfortable. He is still, however, my first boy. I have never lost a pet by conventional means. My first dog - Tiger - was given away with the shop when my parents sold it. Yes it was a corner shop - let's not dwell on that for too long shall we ? We were assured the new owners were animal lovers, but I would have rather he came with us. My first cat Tibby was run over on the main road and my Mum told me when I got home from school. My parents aren't emotional about pets so they just don't get why I am so attached to Neo. I don't want to consider a life without him in it. I hope I don't have to for a while yet.

The week in photos: Summer edition

I was sitting on the sofa and when I got up to make a cup of tea I put a big cushion down to stop Neo from stealing my seat. When I got back he was doing this. Touche fluffy face. Touche. 

My lovely friend Yasmin had the official launch of her new beauty room this week - there was cake, sunshine and some mini treatments. I went and had my nails painted in this bright summer shade. I love it. 

It was National Cream Tea Day on Friday so to celebrate we visited the fantastic Parklife Cafe in Croydon and enjoyed the most enormous scones I think I've ever seen. That is pretty much a meal on a plate right there !

Today was the annual adoption fun day that my boys love to go to. It's always a sunny day, there's an ice cream van, a burger stall, face painting, bouncy castle and lots of friends to play with.

Brown Bear loved playing football with some other boys his age:

Blue Bear got to practise being a firefighter:

And I got to sit down on the grass for a little while:

It's a cat's life. Lucky thing !

Neo has lived with us for 9 years. He has welcomed a baby into the family, moved house, seen off random other felines and managed to deal with yet another child joining the family. His life has not been without incident, but as I watched him today lying in the sun relaxed and purring I appreciated that he has a happy life with us. 

He gets to sunbathe (indoors or outdoors) relatively free of interruption. 

Relaxed - and long - cat 

He is free to check his email and social media as he wishes and while his typing speed is still pretty slow at least he now dribbles far less on keys.

This does not look like a mouse to me ! 

Neo has trained the boys to come and say hello and goodnight to him and to feed him on demand. He's a smart cookie ! 

Playing with the track before school

Yesterday we decided to take Brown Bear's high loft bed down and put him back in an average height bed. This way Neo can lie with him and they both love to sleep together. It is funny to try and work out where the cat is among all the soft toys !

Sleeping beauties

This morning Neo was staunchly sticking by Brown Bear's side. He followed his boy around the house and decided to sit close by on the table. I think he makes a cute - if a bit fluffy - paperweight.

Still life 

I love seeing my oldest boys getting along. Neo and Brown Bear are a great team and they do love each other very much indeed. It's a wonderful thing to witness.

Cat and boy in perfect harmony.

Let's hear it for my boys.

Some days being a parent is just hilarious. Not every day I grant you. Some days are like climbing uphill in a full sumo suit while carrying freezer bags before the food inside them defrosts and having to carry a baby in a car seat at the same time. True Story - almost.

They do things that just take me by surprise. Blue Bear ran into the kitchen to check I was ok when he heard a mug smash yesterday. He also posted a letter in the letterbox by himself without being lifted up - when did he grow so tall ? Brown Bear helps style his brother's hair in the mornings now as he wants to make him look as cool as he does. He also has an amazing skill at knowing if it's going to be a cold day and insists he doesn't need a jacket on days that turn out to be not only sunny, but hot too. I've no idea where this psychic meterological skill comes from.

Then there are the amazing and frankly impressive things that they do. Recently I've been lucky enough to witness some nuggets of pure gold from my children:

Yesterday morning I was running the vacuum round before we left for school (don't look at me like that - the house was a total sty and it needed doing). Brown Bear went over to the beanbag where Neo was lying and covered his ears and talked to him in soothing tones to stop him getting upset with the noise. What a sweetie.

Blue bear was in relaxed mode this morning - he woke up late, took ages to get dressed and when I insisted that he put on his shoes for pre-school he took his time. When he eventually came to the kitchen to show me I had to stop myself from laughing. He had put on two entirely different shoes. One white trainer and a black school shoe. When I said, "please put on two matching shoes," he asked, "why ?" I'll be honest I'm not sure I could provide an acceptable answer. I later found out that apparently this is a trend with the cool kids at the moment - how does he know though ?

Brown Bear was sitting eating breakfast and I offered him a pastry - I was feeling generous, we don't do that every day. As I proffered croissants or pain au chocolat he asked for the latter, in a french accent. I looked at Hubbie and said, "I know I should feel bad about that, but I just don't." Pretentious, moi ?

This afternoon Blue Bear sat down next to me on the sofa and I put my arm round him. He was fiddling with a toy and he put it inside his T shirt. He showed me. "Mummy, it's in my tummy." "Your toy ?" "No, my baby." "Oh, it's inside your tummy ?" "Yes. A baby in my tummy." I smiled and he took it out of his t- shirt, held it gently to his face and then gave it a tender kiss. "My baby." Love that boy.

Brown Bear has his heart set on a Blue Peter badge so Hubbie looked up what he needs to do to get one. This morning I read his poem and letter to the programme to earn a badge. I told him what a great job he had done on it and that I was really proud of his work. Yeah, it's a brag - I'm not even going to lie.

It's just as well they are cute and lovable really otherwise Bue Bear throwing a wobbler and Brown Bear losing his brand new Rubik's cube might have been the headlines of today. Instead I can smile and laugh when I think about my boys. My wonderful, surprising, funny boys.

Happy Anniversary Neo

The other night Brown Bear came into our bedroom in the early hours crying because he'd had a bad dream. In the morning when he woke up next to me he explained that in his dream Neo had run away and we couldn't find him and it was the worst thing that had ever happened because he loves Neo so much. They do have a special bond my boy and my cat. 

When we were childless and desperate Neo was our much loved boy and we lavished him with the attention and fuss that we wanted to give to children. Then when I was pregnant Neo was so protective of me and the bump. I'd come home from work and put up my swollen feet and he'd lie on my bump and protect the baby. I'm sure that the purring must have been heard inside and one day the baby gave a big kick and Neo looked horrified. 

Once the baby was here Neo was careful not to get too close, but also used to check on him before going to bed. He'd go into the room to look into the cot and see if he was asleep before settling down himself. As Neo negotiated the difficult toddler years with tail pulling, shouting, running around and generally being loud and annoying he then enjoyed a calmer period when he could lie on Brown Bear's bed with him and they would go to sleep together. He also trained the boys to give him biscuits so his motives aren't entirely altruistic. 

Blue Bear was a whole other proposition as he came to us older so Neo didn't get to see him grow from a baby. He's getting the boy into his ways now, but he's still a bit unpredicable, noisy and doesn't sit still as much as Brown Bear. It is a cause of great consternation to Blue Bear that after school Neo will head for Brown Bear's lap and not his. His older brother is teaching him how to be kind and careful with our old man cat, but he's often too excited to listen. 

It was 9 years ago today that Neo came to live with us. We brought him home from Battersea cats and dogs home in a basket I'd bought from the PDSA and he got so many compliments on the train ride home from passengers cooing about how beautiful he is. He still get lots of attention for his good looks.

                                     

Since Neo joined our family we've had a baby, moved house, adopted a toddler and he's taken it all in his stride. I can completely understand why Brown Bear was so upset about his dream. As Neo gets older he isn't quite as nimble getting up the stairs or seems reluctant to jump without a long think about whether he can make the height. He still loves the sun and on a sunny day you will find him in the sunniest spot in the garden.

Neo is the best. 

It takes a village - and a cat - to raise a child.

I watched the movie Mommie Dearest the other day for the first time. I have heard of it, but had never seen it. If you don't know it, the book was written by Christine Crawford about her adoptive mother Joan Crawford and the cruelty she inflicted on her children. I watched Faye Dunaway screaming at her kids for having wire coathangers and witnessed them cowering in fear. There was a clutching feeling in my chest as I thought, oh god I hope my kids they don't think I'm like that when I shout at them. Brown Bear was staying at my Mum and Dad's house and while I was pondering how terrible a parent I am, I got a message from my sister. It said he was telling her he had 'the best day of his life' with me last week when we went to the Lego store and BBC Radio London. Phew, I'm not Joan Crawford. On the scale of parenting it goes from Joan Crawford at one end to ... Oh I dunno probably Mary Poppins and she's not even a parent.

My boy the radio presenter

One of the things that worries me most is that I'm not a great parent. That I shout too much. I don't cook enough. I tell them off when they are just being kids. That I indulge them and they will become spoiled. Basically everything. So when they offer any form of praise or suggest I've got it right I'm proper chuffed. It doesn't happen that often. I have accepted that being a parent means I'll get it wrong at times and the kids will notice. What they also do, however, is forgive me.

Brown Bear goes to stay with my parents sometimes and Blue Bear has stayed with Hubbie's parents in the past. The kids know what they can get away with - a lot - and push their luck by doing the cute baby faces and big eyes to get what they want. In Brown Bear's case that means chocolate spread for breakfast, McDonalds for lunch and so many new toys and clothes that his trunki barely closes when he has to return home. Blue Bear has simpler expectations. He likes to play with all the toys and drags Grandpa around to build railway tracks and play with him. He often just plonks himself on Grandpa's lap and waits for sweets to appear. It doesn't take long.

I asked my Mum what it was like to be a grandparent and she told me that it was like the reward for parenting. That you invest in your kids and the return is the grandkids that you spoil and fuss over. All in the knowledge that the parents have all the stress of raising kids that they already went through. Of course filling the kids with sugar before sending them home is just a bonus.

We also have a secret weapon in our parenting armoury - the cat. Neo has been teaching my kids to be good cats for years. He is expert at it now. Years ago he trained Brown Bear to open the tin of cat biscuits in secret so when I said no he would still get treats. The two of them cuddle up together and snuggle and Blue Bear has been jealous of this closeness for a while. Then a few days ago - while Brown Bear was away - Neo decided it was time to train Blue Bear as well. I watched as my son crawled around behind the cat copying him washing his paw and face and then observed as Neo stopped and waited for him to catch up when he walked off. It was adorable.

He showed Blue Bear how to eat and drink like a cat:

He likes to sit under the clothes airer and meditate - looks like Blue Bear does too.

After an afternoon of cat training they both needed to relax.

I am still going to worry about how inadequate my parenting is, but at least I have some great helpers.

For the love of cats

It's been a while since I posted a gratuitous cat love post - I know if I'm not careful I'll get thrown off the internet ! In honour of my first four days of sugar free February (and no fatalities so far) here's a round up of feline fun:

Neo fell asleep on the sofa this evening so Brown Bear wrapped him up in a fluffy blanket, "like a baby."

Oh how Neo loves the animal bundle game (erm... no he doesn't actually):

Arty shot of the cat - can never have too many of these:

I asked Neo to help me tidy up the toy room - here's his contribution:

Then he stopped for a rest:

I have no idea why he's grooming Brown Bear, but this may explain why they are such great pals:

Moody atmospheric shot during the 'golden hour':

And lest we forget: