The REAL deal....

As of this week, 8months after we finally made the move and left the city for a new life in the country, 6months after we were told to leave our 'supposed' dream home in the country and 7months after we laid eyes on our REAL new dream home in the country, we are in the last stages and waiting for the papers and missives to be sorted. 

We are still tentative because we know how slow to respond and difficult it has been and they may come up with some new fresh hell before signing some of the property over to us.....BUT thanks to our loving family (who don't want to see us homeless!) and (un)fortunate inheritance, it would seem likely that we may be buying a farm!!!! Squeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to live in the country.  I grew up half in the city and mostly up north in the wilds of Scotland on a caravan site.  I created a childhood full of nature and excitement.  Wide open spaces. Fresh air. Mud. Sea. Solitude. Self sufficiency. Confidence, uniqueness and adventure. Its a way of life that always appealed to me way more than the 'little boxes on the hillside'!

It took me a long time to persuade my hubby that this is where we should be, that  this is where our kids should be growing up. Somewhere with space to explore, play and to find their own adventures. Our eldest is now 8 and I've been trying for 7yrs to get him to leave the comfort of his suburban zone! He now says he can't ever imagine moving back to closely spaced identikit houses 'made of ticky tacky'. 

The new place is definitely what an estate agent would call 'great potential'. We will have our work cut out for us but it will be all worth it in the end!  Well it better bloody be because we've encountered some crazy obstacles to get this far! 

We've managed to stay in this house well past our welcome. It has been an experience and has ultimately led us to this point. The loony landlord unwittingly did us a massive favour whilst he will be the one who will remain stuck and grumparsey in his miserable existence trying to make everyone else around him miserable. Someone should have told him you can't keep a good Berlow-Jackson down! 

We hope to move in April and once again start our new life in the country!!!

I can't wait! I've waited long ebloodynough!!

Meltdowns - daily. The stress is getting to us 

Losing the plot - daily. The stress is getting to us 

Breastfeeding - almost night weaned. Almost!!!

Silver Cloud and shit like that

FuckitybuggerybastardybollockyfuckshitearsewipeS

That fucking impending doom of shite other foot dropping bollox that I have been feeling has finally happened. After finding out a good friend died suddenly on Monday, I thought maybe that was is, but I knew it wasn't.  I had always known she would die, I have a whole book I could write about her.  It will have to wait now. She was unbelievable.  We all loved her. 

Anyway, I tried to ignore the feeling. I tried to excuse it as collywobbles and past insecure experiences. I was going to write a blog post about the feeling and how I was really trying embrace the fucking positive and get over old scripts. How I was overcoming my insecurities and living my life again. I should have listened to my instincts. 

He wants us out in January.  He hasn't given a proper reason says it's too much hassle. Basically, he doesn't have to give a reason. He's not renewing the lease.

Now to find something better than this place which has damp problems, a shitty sink drainer that pools, a tiny gap to get out of the kitchen and no fucking space on the counters, insecure living arrangements that could be terminated at any time with one months notice AND FUCK YOU COLERAINE!!

I'm over the shock. I'm going to make it work. I just hope the girls can cope. Fuck I was just starting to feel almost ok again. Not depressed, stressed and sad. I hope this works out. At least we made the move out of suburgatory. We are in the country now and we are staying. 

He told me to be a real mother and take my kids to the play park and to get a gate to lock them in. He complained about everything and wanted his garden in better condition than when we got it.  He has NO idea about raising children consciously and has way too high expectations. If you ever hear of someone thinking of moving to MosCOW, steer them clear. Tell them to run a mile. Don't even imagine you could try and make it work. 

Moving ultimately is the best plan it's just such a fucking nightmare!

I want to trash the fucking garden. I spent practically the whole day there yesterday. I'm gonna dump the weeds back in. The fucker.  

So up yours farmer grumpy. You can swivel on your fly infested, damp smelling, manky water house. 

The Berlow-Jackson's are moving in to better pastures. 

I knew the chocolate cake would come in handy!

Meltdowns - increasing

Losing the Plot - on the up

Breastfeeding - thinking about a playground flashmob :0