Blog meme – about me 15 June 2008

Haille tagged me with this blog meme.

I had to google it to understand what a blog meme is. Hey - I’m new at this. Anyway, I’m not sure I like the idea of turning my blog into a magazine quiz, but it did look like one way of telling you a little more about me, without the usual requirement for thought and drafting.

Oh, and I had already added a link to Hallie’s blog in my last post, so this is gonna look like overkill.

Anyway, I’m not going to answer all of the questions in this meme, just the ones I think you might be interested in.

1. What were you doing five years ago?

Still trying to make my first marriage work. Gainfully employed (I’m now a freelancer). Living with my kids (now a weekend dad).

2. What are five things on your to-do list today?

Got to collect my eldest son from a weekend long army cadets camp (a 100 mile round trip to the kids house), spend some quality time with all three kids, spend some time with my brother in law and father in law (birthday celebrations this weekend), try to keep things cool with my wife, prepare for work on Monday.

6. Five places you have lived.

Near Edinburgh, Glasgow, South London, Hampshire, North London.

7. Five jobs that you’ve had?

Bookmaker, warehouseman, driver, engineer, rocket scientist, team leader, cost engineer, advisor, coach, consultant, project manager, trainer, interim manager.

8. How did you name your blog?

It seemed to sum up what I wanted to write about – the ideal of relationships, and the reality, as I see it – of trouble in paradise.

Family isn’t a word, its a sentence 15 June 2008

We’re not totally disfunctional, my family.

I mean, there’s the stuff I mentioned about my father, okay, but that’s it.

Oh, and my wife not talking to me [send me to coventry]. And maybe we haven’t .. you know .. much. Since the baby. Actually, I mean, since he was conceived. And only once since he was born. He’s nearly two now.

I haven’t mentioned my daughter in this blog yet. She is struggling (make that refusing) to accept her stepfather, since her mother re-married last year. She still lives with them, but she really has made it difficult for her mother and her new husband. She’s just about to turn thirteen, though, so maybe she was going to be difficult anyway.

And, I’m not cool with her mother (my first wife) anyway.

Upside for me is that my daughter is keen to spend more time with us. As a result, she has really bonded with her baby brother.

So why was I so struck by the title of the post I saw the other day - family isn’t a word, its a sentence? It really struck a nerve with me.

I linked to Hallie’s blog in my last post, but just I read something she wrote a year ago [hard questions]. Hardly anyone seems to make a relationship work anymore. Even when there are kids involved.

Family relationships can be difficult. And sometimes it does feel like a life sentence, trying to make a marriage work. Trying to keep a family together.

I heard a little boy in a playground the other day, ask a little girl “What’s your step-father’s name”. She said “I don’t have a step-father”. And he said “Yes you do. Everybody’s got a step-father!”. How I wish that wasn’t nearly true.

Trouble at the seaside 26 May 2008

It didn’t start well. Resentment came downstairs for breakfast when she did. It hovered over and around her like a cloud as she prepared fruit and cereal for the baby.

I tried to make small talk, but she wasn’t responding. Maybe I could have prepared breakfast before they came down, insteading of eating a bowl of cereal and drinking a cup of tea myself.

It was a sunny Saturday morning in a long, bank holiday weekend. My wife’s friend had sent a text to say that they were going to the seaside, and inviting us to join them.

My wife was torn. She wanted to go. We had had a good time together when we went for a picnic a few weeks ago. She wanted to go with them. But she didn’t want to go with me.

She hasn’t been talking to me for a while now. Except, it seems, to criticise me, whenever I try to speak. So I keep my peace, and put up with the silence.

So she wants to go, but she strings it out for a while. Finally, when she is in the shower, she calls to me to check how far it is, and how long it would take to get there.

The others are almost there, and it will take us nearly two hours to drive, but we set out. Two hours in near-total silence. Baby is sleeping. I try to make conversation, while I drive. But my wife is sitting in the back of the car with baby, and doesn’t want to talk.

Our destination is a surprise. Some of the seaside towns in this part of the world are gaudy, brash and commercialised. But this is nice. A beautiful little town we never visited before. Its narrow main street meandered downhill, past attractive little shops and cafes.

Finally it revealed a tiny harbour sheltering half a dozen bobbing fishing boats. A deep strand of golden strand curved around a cove, sheltered by low cliffs and overlooked by a old, but well kept hotel, a few tea shops, and an ice cream parlour.

We picked our way through couples and young families enjoying the spring sunshine, sitting in the sand amongst rugs and towels, picnic baskets, wind-breaks and sunshades.

The sea rolled in with lazy waves, lapping the sand in blue, green and grey. A few gulls flapped and called overhead. A few intrepid souls paddled or swam briefly in the cool Atlantic water. But most were content to sit on the beach, enjoying the swish of the waves, and the chatter of children building castles and playing in the soft sand.

We ate our picnic and talked to our friends. We shovelled sand in plastic buckets and tried (and failed) to fly a kite. Baby had a nice time, chasing gulls, and counting shells.

And all too soon it was over. Our friends left first. They had been there longer, and their baby was tired.

We waited a little longer. Drank tea from plastic cups and put the baby’s sweater on as the air cooled and the beach emptied.

Then we headed back to the car. Baby slept on the way home. My wife sat in the back with him. But we talked a little. About how nice the seaside was. And things seemed a little better than they had been. At least for a while.