F is for Faith

My faith is very important to me. I am a member of the LDS church or Mormon as we are commonly called, owing to us believing in the Book of Mormon as well as the Bible. I am a second generation Mormon. My parents were baptized almost 50 years ago. My siblings and I were brought up to live the principles of our gospel.
I have to say I didn't always believe in it. During my early teens I strayed and refused to have anything to do with the church or it's teachings. Then I met and married my first husband who wanted to investigate the church so I started going back and found my testimony once more. We were sealed together in the Temple and led a full and happy life in our church. Then my husband had an affair after 11 years of marriage. I was devastated, I didn't believe this could happen to a couple who were supposed to be working together to make a forever family. But being a member of the church doesn't stop the world from leaching in.
I had four children, my marriage was over and I slowly drifted away from the church again. I felt that the Lord had abandoned me so I abandoned him. I lived a life that was totally out of accord with the church's teachings, for a second time. I stayed that way for many years.
I wasn't unhappy though. I met and married a wonderful man who loves me and my children and who has given us a very happy life. I made some very good friends who continue to be there for me at all times and I thought my life was complete again.
But I always felt that one day, when my scars had healed, I would return to my faith. That time came a last year, when a wonderful missionary couple, Elder and sister Barnley, came to work in Scunthorpe. They visited me on several occasions. I rejected them but they kept coming. Eventually, I let them in and they started to love me back to the church. They listened to me without judgement and without any expectations but gradually helped me to see that I needed to be back where I belonged.
From the moment I walked back into church, I felt like I've come home. I have my faith back. I am reading my scriptures again and gaining spiritual strength from them. I know that God loves me, that Jesus is my Saviour and that he died for me and the Holy Ghost truly does surround us with his spirit.
It wasn't easy to change my lifestyle and to tell my friends I was changing it. But because they are true friends, they have accepted these changes without any ridicule or jibes. It wasn't easy to explain to my husband, who is a complete agnostic, that I wanted to return to church. But, again, because he truly loves me, he has accepted my life change without question.
I am so thankful that I have taken this step because my life is now back on the right track and I am once again truly happy and contented.

E is for Ears

Okay, you're thinking, EARS, IS THIS WOMAN CRAZY.
But I have a thing for ears, well cold ears, really. Ever since I can remember I've done this thing with my ears where I fold them into my earhole. It's a bit like a security blanket. I do it when I'm tired and just going off to sleep, when I'm reading, watching tv or just generally day dreaming. I only do it with cold ears though, it doesn't have the same effect when they're warm. And when I had my babies I found myself doing it to their ears. Because there is nothing squidgier than a baby's ear. And they are so soft. I really love babies ears.
So now you all know what a truly weird person I am. But you should really give it a try, it feels great.

I HAVE A CRAFT ROOM

Yeeeehaaaa, I actually have a craft room. Well, I have half a room for crafting in. After another of my fledglings left the nest, three months ago, I decided that instead of keeping a spare bed in Jamie's room for returning sons, I would finally have some space of my own. So, although I felt a pang of guilt (what if one of my babies needs to come back home, where will I put him, hey they're big boys now, they'll sleep on the sofa, see it was just a little pang), out went the old bed. Hubby and I then spent around 3 weeks decorating the room, because he works shifts we could only do bits here and there. It is finished and I have half of the bedroom set up for my crafting. It's so great to have somewhere to work on my scrapbooking.
Then, just as I was getting all complacent, we decided to have decoraters come in to do the hall, stairs, landing and Matt's bedroom. So all Matt's furniture is now residing in my craft room until it's finished. It should be done by the end of the week but I'm itching to get back in there already. When it's done and everything is back to normal (and I've tidied up my working area) I'll take some pictures for all you many people out there who view my blog.
You are out there, aren't you...........anybody.

D is for Dad

He's always been my hero but there have been times when he's been embarrassing beyond belief. Like the time my sister and I were going to a tramp's ball at our church (early seventies, when these things were popular). Of course we were teenagers and no way were we going dressed as tramps but good old dad entered into the spirit of it, big time. He looked more like a tramp than a tramp would and he insisted on walking us to the dance. Guess how far in front we walked and how often we spoke to him? Dead right, about 2 miles and not at all.
Then there was the way he insisted on meeting us from school dances even after we reached the age of 14. Can you imagine what it was like having some handsome young lad ask if they could walk you home and have to tell them, 'Sorry, my dad's meeting me.' Not good at all.
And the time he came to fetch us home from a make-up party. Mum had told us we could stay late but dad turned up at 9.30 and insisted we had to go home. How long did it take for us to speak to him again? Three days.
But all in all my dad loves his family. He has always treated mum with respect and expected us to do the same. One thing he would never tolerate was disrespect to our elders. He worked hard to keep a roof over our heads and never had a day off unless he really had to. And when my maternal grandmother came to live with us he treated her with the greatest love and care until she died. My dad has taught me so much over the years and I'm so grateful to be his daughter. Like I said before, he is definitely my hero and I hope to have him around for many more years yet, even if he still has the power to embarrass me, occasionally.

C is for Craig and Christopher

This one is for my two eldest boys.
Craig was born 9 weeks prem and weighed in at just 3lbs 4oz. I had a bad case of pre-eclampsia and had to have an emergency caesarean. Pretty scary for a first birth, I can tell you.
I wasn't able to see Craig because he was rushed off to another hospital, St James in Leeds, as his lung collapsed soon after birth and he needed better care than our hospital was able to give. So there I was, feeling like I'd been hit by a truck, wanting my baby and all I had was one of those awful Polaroids they leave beside your bed. No compensation, may I say.
I finally got to see him after two, very long, weeks. It was one of the most emotional points in my life. I wanted to hold him close and whisper in his little ear that I would always protect him but all I could do was stare at him through my tears and stroke him, occasionally, through the door in the incubator. But my boy was a fighter and after a couple of setbacks he began to gain in strength and pounds.
He came home at the age of two and a half months and he was the perfect baby. He only ever cried when he was hungry, he slept all night and was a happy little boy. He did everything on time, teething, talking, crawling, walking and was a joy to have around. He grew up to be a fine young man. He had his moods and sometimes he backchatted but all in all he never gave me a sleepless night. He has flown the nest and lives with his lovely partner, Kate.

Now, Christopher was a different kettle of fish, all together.
He was born three weeks early due to a mild case of pre-eclampsia, natural birth, induced. He came out fighting and never stopped. He weighed in at 5lbs 6oz so was just a bit small but otherwise healthy. He went home after three weeks and boy did we know he was there.
He cried incessantly and around 6pm every night he would set up screaming at top lung capacity. Nothing and nobody could quieten him and the only thing he was screaming for was screaming's sake. That would last about two hours then he would go off to sleep, and around 3am, wake up ready to play, for another two hours. That went on for 18 months and I was like a walking zombie doing everything on automatic pilot.
But as Chris grew his lovely personality started to shine through. He has a very happy outlook on life. He was always laughing and was eager to do anything just so long as he was moving. He was rebellious, though and hated being told no to anything. And from the age of 12 he got into more trouble than any boy should.
I was soon on first names terms with most of the local police and solicitors, almost had my own seat at the court house and police station and felt like wringing my boy's neck just around every hour of every day. But at the age of 16, one very wise policemen gave Chris, the talking to that turned his lfe around. He stopped getting into trouble and became the charming young man that I knew was hiding in there. He met his partner, Leah, when he was 16 and they now have their own home and my two beautiful grandchildren, Kalem and Lacey. Chris is a devoted dad who works hard for his family. He is also starting to understand what a trial he was to bring up, thanks to Kalem who is just as mischievous as he once was.

Encyclopedia of Me

B is for Boys

Well it had to be that, didn't it, seeing as I'm the mother of four of them. Everytime I was pregnant I thought,'this one will be a girl'. But, no, each time out popped another little boy. Not that I'm complaining because I love my boys but it would have been nice to have a daughter to share girly things with. I never got the chance to dress up a little me in frilly dresses, tie ribbons in her hair, buy dollies and prams or share makeup and fashion tips. Yet I haven't regretted one minute of my life with my boys.
I've had to be tough, mind you. Being the only woman in a house of men, you can easily get to be the one who runs around and does everything. Not me, I set the rules early on and made sure my boys knew how to vaccume, polish, wash pots and eventually cook. Discipline wasn't always easy but I always had the respect of my boys. They haven't been angels, by any stretch of the imagination, but they have all grown up to be well adjusted, good young men. I am proud of each one of them for their own achievements and love them dearly. I wouldn't give them up for a whole giggle of girls.
And now, after 23 years I have the little girl I always wanted in my beautiful granddaughter, Lacey. So, get ready girl, there are a whole lot of frillies and dollies coming your way. I have a lot of years to catch up on.

Encyclopedia of Me

I saw this on a blog I was reading recently and thought, 'what a great idea.' I'm going to write (or rather TRY and write) something relative to me for each letter of the alphabet. I'm also going to try and do a scrap page to go with as many letters as possible. So here it is:-

A is for Ageing

When I was a teenager I thought anybody who was over 40 was really old, LOL, and here I am aged 46 and still feeling like a teenager (well sometimes). Yes, I am officially middle aged. I have to wear glasses for reading (I never thought that day would come), I don't know any of the popular songs or artists, I'd rather curl up in front of the telly on a Saturday than go out and spending time with friends is all about recipes, grandchildren and the latest bargains at Asda instead of boys, music, fashion and boys.

Here's me from baby to adult.

When I was young, I thought I would rather be dead than old as it seemed so boring but now

I'm here it's anything but boring. I've found that ageing isn't really that bad if you do it properly. I've made many mistakes over the years but I've also learned some lessons that the younger me could have really benefitted from. I now know you can wear comfortable shoes, that look just as good and feel sooo much better than killer heels, on a night out and it won't mean the difference between marriage and spinsterhood. And going out with somebody just because they are handsome/have money/you have nobody else isn't a good idea. The truth is, though, that the young don't appreciate good advice from the old.

But hey, that's a good thing, because making mistakes, even big, hurtful, heartbreaking ones, is what shapes our lives, what gives it the richness, the color and the memories we like to laugh or cry about as we grow older. So ageing can be fun or boring, whichever you want but we all have to do it. I want to grow old disgracefully so I try to keep a sense of the ridiculous in my heart at all times, I laugh at least once a day, mostly at myself, and I try to act like a teenager at least once a week.

But the best thing about ageing is, I get to dispense my wisdom to all the youngsters whether they like it or not.