My family.

My baby, My Saviour, My Matty!

The day I went into labour with my baby was the most wonderful day of my life so far...

It was the 19th of December 1998, and I had gone Christmas shopping with my mum and The Arse and even my brother. He had come down specifically for the trip into Aylesbury. I was feeling heavy tired and yucky because I was by now 8 days overdue ( I was due the 11th december) so I was very ready to pop! However having my 15 year old bro down for christmas shopping was plenty enough for me to be happy!

We went around town and ended up in a big Curry's looking at the Yamaha organs for a present for Stevey, when I felt the first twinge of uncomfortableness!! ( is that a word!?)

The twinges kept on coming and it felt like I had indigestion, Iwas also feeling a bit sick, but I put it to the back of my mind as myself and Stevey resorted to being kids again and nicking the wee chocolate balls in foil on the counter! ( I had a pocketful which later melted!)

I didn't even think about it being labour!

As the pain got progressively worse though I had to let mum know, we were down the pub by this time, I was sipping my orange 55 but I couldn't ignore the pain any longer!

Going into hospital they told me I wasn't even dialing, it was labour, but I had to go home, have a bath or two and then come back, but the second I was in the bath I was in excruciating pain!

I grabbed my portable cd player and the hospital bag I had been preparing since the day I had found out about my wonderful surprise, and tentatively asked The Arse to drive me in again.

He dropped me and Robin off at the hospital.

Walking was impossible so he asked if someone could get me a wheelchair, and I was wheeled up to the maternity rooms, where I lay and waited in a room of white.

For ten minutes I was alone, I loved it. I had been given pethidine by then and I was so deliriously happy with everything that I could have floated around that hospital.

I slept most of the night, the pethidine had done its job. The contractions stopped and they decided to induce me the next day, the 20th december 1998.

When they broke my waters at about 1.pm I had never seen anything like it. The waters were dark green which meant my baby was in distress, I was calm though, trusting in the doctors and midwives of which there were hundreds milling about me.

They gave me gas and air and I was in heaven! It was amazing, I started laughing at anything and everyone, I practised my breathing and it started to burn deep down, I was laughing but at the same time thought I was dying.

The midwife said at 5pm that if I didn't have this baby in the next ten minutes then a c-section was on the cards....I pushed him out at 5:10pm....the most intnse feeling in the world the deepest pain and he was here.

My baby.

Robin hadn't been there for the birth, but he came straight in and held him first which angered me. I did all the bloody work, now here he was holding my son! Again I knew I would never love anyone as much as I would love this baby, I made him, he was mine, and I pitied any future girlfriends ( or boyfriends, hey, what can I say, I'm modern!)

I immediately checked him over as he lay, counting tiny fingers and toes, a bloody vernix covered mess on my chest and I swear I felt whole.

I didn't name him straight away, I just cuddled him and kissed him and told him I would always be there for him and cried all over his head, tiny dark wispy curls were already drying.

I am very proud to say I took to motherhood like a duck to water. It filled me with glee when I overheard other mothers on the ward ask 'How do I bathe her?' or 'Whats this sticky black stuff!' or 'How do I hold him?' Everything was already there for me. I knew how to hold him, when he was hungry, I had never in my changed a nappy nor held a newborn ever, but I did it with the practised art of a mother of many. I instantly recognised his cries, and although I was a little sore 'down below' I was the happiest woman on the planet.

I had saved up to buy him the car seat with which to take him home, on Christmas eve.

I was excited but at the same time anxious about taking him back to 70 Aylesbury Road wendover, it had been home to me for many years, at first the most loving home you could wish to live in, but now it was home to one of the most evil people I had ever known, and I didn't want my baby going back there....but what choice did I have?

Part three...This place will never be home again....xxx

ps I do hope this doesn't make too depressing a read, if it does, pls feel free to read someone elses happier blog lol ;-) This is now my soundboard for my life!

Addicted to Blogging? My own personal psychiatrist!

I think I am y'know, addicted to blogging. I have done about four blogs yet still not got my head around how to add the pictures properly. My bruges cruise blog went on forever and a day and half of it is miles down the page, no-one will ever read it....but do I care?
Yes I think I do, I'm a natural born show off. I always wanted to be an actress growing up. Not being an actress never featured on my agenda. So then I followed my next dream of being a singer, knwing that luckily I have a passable voice, I only really stand out though 'cause I have lungs as powerful as a dyson! So maybe not the best singer in the world, certainly no Leona Lewis or Katy Perry, but then I'm not disgustingly ear-achingly awful either, I don't think...
I guess since I was a little girl I have craved attention. I was fat, I had buck teeth and horrible non-coloured hair, I was fugly!
Inside me though there was a sexy show-off dying to get out, so when I lost seven stone over the same amount of months it weas no wonder I wanted the world to see me.
Straighter teeth thanks to my train-track brace and eating nothing but plain pasta for seven months had given me a new lease of life. I dyed my hair a deep dark wine coloured red and threw away my pound-shop leggings and got me a size 10 disco ball coloured silver skirt that barely covered my bum cheeks, tight fitting silver top with black roses that gave me boobs Pamela Anderson would have been proud of ( Oh how I miss the days you could stand up for yourself boobs!) and I was away!
I wasn't a slut, or a slag, I never slept around, though I happily admit I had the opportunity to! I fell in love easily and had a few boyfriends. My first ever boyfriend I didn't love ( naming no names) and I probably hurt him at the time as I showed him nothing but hostility: I only dated him because he was single, I was single and our group was made up of couples, plus, he had a car!
My second boyfriend I stole from my best friend. Well, I say stole, he finished with her and I picked up where she left off! I hated myself for this fact, still not proud of it, but I was young, and getting over being a fatty minger, so this was the confidence booster I sorely needed. (Karma works well though as he dumped me and went out with my other best mate! lol)
I don't really know where I'm going with this blog, I guess I am using it as some sort of therapy. I have a lot of jumbled crap in my mind that I'm yet to work through. Life sometimes happens at such a pace that before you can take in one bad thing thats going on another is whizzing by too and overtaking it. Also the same can be said for good things, however these tend to be over-stamped by the bad. A pity, but true.
I think my desire to be loved and noticed came from when my dad left us. 'So, me and mum are splitting up, Stevens coming with me and you're staying here with your mum.'
No discussion, no 'we will both still love you even though we're apart speech.' no taking time to get used to it all, just dumped in the deep end, feeling thoroughly unloved as I felt I was being left behind. Plus they got to take the PC with them, and I loved my PC. No more leisure suit Larry for me then......sniff!
I hated my mum and dad for how they parted...I vowed to myself there and then my children would know every crumb of me, would get every bit of information from me, and I would always make sure that their well-being came before anything... ANYTHING!
I love my parents don't get me wrong, however me and my dad have lost the closeness we used to share. Maybe I was a little jealous when I heard he was going to have another daughter, not in a horrible way, I love my sister. But it seemed he forgot that even though I was an adult I still needed a dad at times. As for my mum, no-one could love her more than I, but I've taken care of her and her depression for years, since I was old enough to understand the word depression I have heled her fight it, but there comes a time when your body and mind take over from feelings of love and start to protect yourself. I find nothing harder than seeing my mum or talking to her,because I know she wants to be back here, living with me, with me taking care of her the way I used to and now I can't. She misses the children dreadfully, but I know in her heart she believes that life should be all Gavin and Stacey, big families sat around big tables with conversation and endless hugs and cuddles, or like Coronation street where everyone lives in the same road. I try to explain that she's not out of the loop, or on the outside looking in just because of where she lives, but of course its more than that.
I wish she lived nearer, but for her to move is impossible at the moment, especially since that evil gay shit Richard ( not my Richard) but Richard Louis Lambert who came to live with us, beat us both up and stole all our stuff and then admitted he was gay, came onto me, then came onto my boyfriend and then sold our house and f(*&ed off.
Yes, there are real people out there that do this.
Ohhhhh life is so bloody complicated....But I never felt happier than the day I took my pregnancy test and it came up with those two perfectly wonderful little blue lines.
Happy is the weakest word I could ever use. My mum wasn't too happy, I was 17 just about to turn 18, and she didn't think I would manage. Of course I knew I would, being a mummy is all I had ever wanted. Life had thrown me a disappointing start with my own family, so starting afresh I could be the head honcho, the big boss, big Mama who everyone adored with scores of babies round my feet while I baked cakes and played games....It was my ideal dream.
I had a seamless pregnancy, it was perfect! Was sick once when I tried a cigarette on a pretty stressful day. By this time Richard Lambert had moved in with my mother and I and was making my life hell.
'Oi you rotten bitch, cut the f(*&ing grass you lazy whore' was one of the nicer things he would say to me. Robin was next to useless indefending me, Looking back I believe he was more scared than me, and I believe if it hadn't been for Richard L ( we'll call him the Arse) that we would have been a lot stronger together, but Robin was weak and just worked all the hours god sent to to earn next to nothing while I tried to keep busy and do all the jobs that were asked of me. What a wierd spin on Cinderella eh? Cinderella is knocked up, the evil stepmother is a stepfather who has a penchant for men and the handsome prince was next to useless and couldn't tell a glass slipper from a formica table!
But my pregancy kept me sane, kept me healthy when I so easily could have turned to drink and or drugs, anything to numb the pain of this Hell I was forced to endure.
I'll give you an example: One very strange night, myself and Robin had gone out and accidentally met up with Mum Richard and two of Richard and Robins mutual friends called Brian and Donna. Brian was about twenty with a face like a horse but thought he was gods gift, but hey ho, we sat and had a few laughs ( when the Arse was in a good mood he was ok) and then Brian said he had lost a lot of money doing up his car. Jokingly The Arse said 'I know, We'll go home, have a few drinks and Robin can strip, and we'll all throw money at him!'
Robin was a young seventeen then, and he laughed it off as we all did. Then everyone else left leaving me and Robin discussing the future and his business working with cars as a panel-beater.
We got home at about half eleven, and call it womens intuition but before we had even hit my road I knew we were in for trouble. I walked up the garden path and could see the sillouette of Richard pacing, and I could hear him swearing and shouting. I braced myself but was in no mood for more of this crap. I opened the front door and he pounced on me like an animal posessed.
'THEY'VE GONE HOME, BRIAN NEEDED THAT MONEY, WHAT THE F*&^ ARE YOU PLAYING AT, HE NEEDED THAT MONEY!'
I couldn't understand what he was talking about, this great huge bloke in front of me with spittle at the corner of his mouth, my mum begging him to calm down, she always tried her best but she was too scared of him, but also much too scared to get rid of him.
'What the hell are you on? ' Then I realised, he had actually wanted Robin to do the strip he had joked about earlier on. I was in shock, was the man deranged?
I got my purse out and hurled every last penny I had on me at his face, dangerous, but I was on fire with anger.
'Take the money, take everything I've got, you're bloody mental!'
That was when he punched me in the stomach. I went across the hall and fell into the fireplace, everything was quiet as a church. Seconds, minutes went by until I heard screaming. It was me.
'My baby, my baby...you hit my baby...' I was shrieking hysterically, Robin stood unsure of what to do whiloe mum frantically dialled an ambulance. Now, I know I'm stronger than my mum, but I hated her then, and maybe a part of me always will for not killing him for hitting her pregnant child, I know that should anyone touch my child/ren in any way that I deem disrespectful even, I shall kill them, to hell with consequences.
The ambulance came and I was shaking like a leaf, I was about seven months gone and my baby wasn't moving. The ambulance men checked me over and asked what had happened. Richard told them I was on drugs and made circle loops round his ear indicating I was insane.
I screamed that he had hit me and he again said that I had taken something that night and I was angry because he'd tried to talk to me about it. The police were then called and I spent about two minutes telling them he had hit me and they said 'Its domestic, not a lot we can do.' and they left...just like that.
From then on I knew that it would always be me and the baby against the world, I knew even then Robin would not feature in my life for long. Anyone that could let someone hit his partner and child not even yet born was no man for me.
I said I could no longer live in that house, but we had to go on a waiting list.
A few weeks later Richard bought me a stereo to 'make up for it all.'
Me being the kindly simpering idiot I was was always polite, never mentioned the fact he had hit me,I just kept my head down and waited for my baby to come, knowing he was my ticket to the life I dreamed of.
Next Blog....I meet my baby, my saviour from Hell. My Matty. xxx

Roxy, John, Jones and numerous other boyfriends I cannot pronounce!

Just a quick post about my princess Roxy.

Roxy is my joy, my heart, like all my children really, but all my babies have different places and slots in my heart. Matthew for example is my sports hero! Always being a bit of a chubby one sports was NEVER my thing, me doing sports would be like the Queen rapping, out of place and thoroughly unattractive. So to have a lad thats not only intelligent ( wha? who'd he get THAT from???) but sporty too gives me an immense sense of pride!

Jordan, he is my Artist, my little red-headed artist. Handsome, shy, sweet and very very artistic!

And Roxy, well, she is my Princess. The girly side of me that never got a chance to shine when I was a child. Fat kids aren't really allowed to be girly, well, I never thought so, I felt all my rights to girlyness ie: long curls, pretty dresses jewellery and perfumes and painted nails had disappeared with several rolls of flesh that left me with being the tom-boy. So I delight in every girly thing that Roxy does, asI will with Charlie when she's started to grow that pretty blonde fluff that coveres her Charlie Brown-esque head!

So myself and dearest Richy were standing in the kitchen and Roxy comes out with 'I have five boyfriends.'

To much amusement we began firing questions, the way you do when you want something funny to blog about (heheh)

'What are their names darling?' we ask. 'John, Jones, Minky, Monky and Breshky.'

Now, I can only guess at the spellings of the last few fellows, so I beg their pardon if I have it wrong!

'Ohhh, thats nice! How many babies will you have then?' Asks daddy, and I can't help but think 'I wonder if you shall be asking this in that same jovial tone in about fifteen years time!'

The answer will be a resounding NO.

So we finally get out of our sweet princess that John, Jones, Minky Monky and Breshky have been beating her up, so she turned into a ninja and kicked them all in the face and now they live in the woods with their pets!

I do worry, where has the violence come from, and then I see her two brothers play wrestling on the trampoline, and sigh....Our Princess should make the most of the girly years, for no doubt with her fighting spirit she'll end up as a tom-boy just like her mother...Ahh well, theres always Charlie!

Carriecakes & Toolbox r gettin' hitched!!! part 2.

So yes! He replied to my ever so strange message out of the blue!

Rich was to later tell me that at first he thought it was one of those computer generated messages that everyone gets, and was within a hares breath of deleting it without looking at the message, but then he said, he looked at my eyes!

So we messaged a bit more, He jokingly kept me guessing at why he was nic-named Toolbox, I very rudely said maybe it was something to do with his 'tool' and it all went from there!

We swapped numbers pretty soon after that fateful july 24th 2006 ( the first day we spoke, hence my tattoo on my back bearing a nice big 24! ) and the first thing he texts me is 'Do you want to go to Venice?'

A little taken aback, I had only been speaking to him for three days, and here he was proposing a trip away! I must admit I was thrilled but the answer was a firm resounding no- but thanks for asking!

This didn't put him off though, and we decided to arrange to meet the following week, we'd seen each other slightly on my web-cam, he'd been doing various impersonations of Bottoms Eddie and Richy and having me in fits! By now I realised he was a bit younger than me, so had thought 'He's fun to flirt with, extremely good looking, and massively confident, we'll be good friends but nothing else!'

When I failed to plan our meeting ( I had to let him down as I had no baby-sitter) he STILL wsn't put off! 'No worries..' he said 'I'll come down to wendover then!'

No, I needed mutual territory, not my home turf! What if he was wierd, or stalked me or something. I wanted to play this really safe, so I agreed again to meet him in London at Marylebone station on the following Monday. He had some time off working at Argos and I was still enjoying the school holidays.

So I asked my young neighbour to babysit the boys, Jade has always been an amazing babysitter, I trust her with my life. And she came round as I was getting ready. I had told three of my closest friends where I was going, I had my mobile with me, and I told Jade that If I wasn't home by 7.30 to ringme mum! I had all eventualities covered....now it was time to go.

I had prissed and preened and primped until I felt great. I was wearing blue jeans, little balck top and a little black jacket that I thought hugged my curves beautifully, and my favourite Roberto Cavelli shoes, God I miss those shoes, even though the sole was held on with gum! :-)

My hair was in pig-tails, I wondered if I looked like I was trying too hard, and wiped my lippy off twice, only to put more on ten minutes later, what if he thought I hadn't bothered enough!

I spent the whole journey day-dreaming that he was this God, and was going to fall desperately in love with me and never leave my side...funny how sometimes dreams come true isn't it?

I got off the train and felt quite jittery, even my butterflies had butterflies!

I walked around for a while looking in card shops, there wasn't much to look at, expensive flowers, and birthday cards. I had already bought him a gift, He had played a phone prank on me a few nights before using a phone sound board and pretending to be Arnie....'WHO TOL' YOU YOU COULD EAT MAH COO-KEES!' & 'WHO IS YO' DADD-EE AND WHAT DOES HE DOH!' had blared down in his Arnie voice, with Rich guffawing on the other end as I look bemused at the phone in my hand....I still owe him for that five years on......

I decided to hold onto my pennies and walked round a bit, and then I saw him. He was standing still, looking round at all the people milling around. I was out of eye shot, and I was glad. It meant I was properly able to give him the once over. It was love at first sight. From where I was standing I could see his muscles through his shirt, I culd see his dark eyes ( that lighten and darken depending on his mood) frowning in concentration, and I could see he was tall, and devastatingly gorgeous. Its true. He was sooo goodlooking my heart sank, there was no way that hunk was going to look twice at me. However he started walking toward me without seeing me so I slipped behind him and was about to kick him up the bum in a way of greeting that I do best, when he turned and grinned.

Woah that smile hooked me completely!

Before he could speak I said I have a pressie for ya! And I led him to the little cafe near the exit of Marylebone.

I had gotten him a bust of Arnie at the bootsale the day before, he smiled and said he had a present for me, he had made a cd of the Stadium Arcadium album, I was touched and we had a coffee and decided we'd have a walk!

I was aware of him at times falling behind and not walking by my side, I have since found out he was checking out my bum! how rude!

He was aching to impress me he told me much later, so we decided to go into this little clothes shop called Smarties. He walked up to the indian lady serving and asked 'Do you sell Smarties please?'

The lady didn't quite understand what he meant and why I was snorting into a load of young girls dresses, but he kept asking why they were called Smarties if they didn't sell them. In the end they grasped it and sent us to a local papershop...You had to be there but we were in hysterics, it wasn't quite our origional plan of dressing up in turkey hats and going into Harrods and supporting the rights of Turkeys everywhere...but it was enough to know that yes, this yummy boy was on my wavelength!

Rich decided he wanted to take me for a meal....so off we went looking for a restaurant in London...

For more...see part 3 lol. I can't believe I think that anyone besides me would read this stuff hehehe!

Toolbox & Carriecakes R gettin' Hitched! Part One.

I'm getting married, and I guess I've written this blog for me and for my kiddies, it'll be lovely for them to read about how their mum and dad got together, I know I wish I could do the same.

I'm Getting Married! I say it and it doesn't seem real somehow...All I know is that planning it is one of the nicest things I've ever done.

I'm getting married to my best friend too, so what could be nicer than that?

Let me tell you a bit about my fella, only because I love talking about him.

Richard Talbot-Ashby was born in Harwich Essex on the 27th March 1987, I would have been seven years old by then, always wierd to think about, me playing hopscotch and three years into my school life before my future husband was even born! Yikes!

I met him after my brother set my computer up and logged me onto a little site called Myspace in 2006. It was a hot day in July, It was the summer holidays and the school I was working at had broken up the week before, My two lovely lads aged 8 and 5 were out playing with their friends and I was as lonely as hell, and thought I'd flick through the pictures of different people on Myspace.

Richards pic was the second profile I had looked at, and LORD he was cute! In the picture he's wearing sunglasses and gazing into the distance, he looked like a soldier in his combat colours with his short hair and aviation glasses on, but ohhh so goodlooking! Had I known at the time he was an 18 year old from Essex, would that have stopped me? He looked so much older in his photo! so I sent him a message...

I headlined it

'Ah pity that foo' that don't read mah message...'

Sorry, hope you liked my Mr T impersonation!

Hello!!! My names Carrie, I'm twenty-six ( Hey, I could've used numbers and saved valuable time instead of writing it out the long winded way and having to type extra words that just plainly and simply weren't needed!!!!!)

So, I'm twenty-six ( done it again ffs!!!) and I'm a teaching assistant in a school for boys with behavioural problems by day and a rock-chick by night, well, we're just starting out, we've done one gig so far but it went ok!

Anyway, I liked yer bloggy thing (technical I aint) and thought you sounded alright so thought I'd drop you a line!

Me interests (crikey I hope this reads better than it sounds) are singing, mountain biking, having fun ( why else are we here???) and people who make me laugh!

I love me films and mooosic, rock mainly, and I like people who can be themselves and not put on an act, natural people who can make me larf are good in moi book!

Well, hope this finds you well, and hope you have a good summer!!!

Ciao xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Carrie.

Lol, when I read it back, I wonder what on earth he was thinking, I mean, did I come across as desperate, or stalker-ish? Well, I couldn't have come across as too bad as he messaged me back right away!

If you want to, see part two of my blog for what happened next.........;-)

Loadsa love Carriecakes xxx

Summer madness...

The toys are all out
and the food cupboards bare
the holidays are here oh I'm very aware!
their shoes are discarded and uniforms thrown
most of them threadbare, dull and out-grown.
clothes in disarray as they fumble for shorts
screaming and pleading for long summer walks.
or trips to the park (not the one near the woods)
and I know that I must and I know that I should
But the washing is piled as high as a tower
just this job alone keeps me busy for hours.
The baby is crying for just one more feed
before she's screaming so loud that my ears start to bleed.
Then babe is asleep, so I try to sit down
a mag in one hand but then a small frown
passes my daughters face, as I try to chill out,
then a thud from upstairs and a boys distant shout.
'He turned off my game when I went to the loo!'
'Mum I didn't, he's lying, that SO isn't true!'
My daughters now crying as she wants to go out,
and you never did see such a toddler girls' pout.
I've done them all lunch, and they look with disdain,
mums on one of her health kicks again!
'Brown bread is pooh! We only like white!'
Who would have thought bread could cause such a fight?
They're so quiet as they munch, I sit down with ease,
no wonder so many kids are obese!
But anyway, soon my sit-down has come to an end,
the babys awake and to her I must tend.
But before I know it, Daddy is home,
chatting away in his jovial tone.
OH what would I give, for a small glass of wine,
and a chat with my fella, for just a short time!
Again guilt sets in, the day has soon gone
and again I soon realise where I went wrong.
The washing and cleaning tomorrow would wait,
for who is there to see that my house is in such a state?
but my kids won't stay little and messy for long,
one minute they're cooing, the next up and gone.
so while my dishes overload my poor battered sink
I won't be harassed and kick up a stink.
I shall be reading them stories, and enjoying our talks
and tomorrow we will do our long summer walk....