Vienna hangover.

I just spent about fifteen minutes trying to think of a good intro to this blog entry, but decided it would be better to just come out with it.

I fucking LOVE Vienna.

There you go, I said it.

I have just spent another 15 minutes deciding whether  to remove the swear word or not, but came to the conclusion it was absolutely necessary to get my point across.

Vienna was beautiful (I’m sure it still is) I took lots of pictures, but they didn’t really do it justice.  The buildings are fantastically intricate, and the detail on them is just breath-taking.

On a different note I also thoroughly enjoyed being able to smoke in the pub!   I had a wonderful 2 days of complete over-indulgence.  The days was packed with sight-seeing and walking and the evenings socialising, eating and drinking.

It was lovely to spend some time just Moss and I, and also with some of his friends.

On the second night, Moss and I went out, then came back to the hotel quite early.  I had to be up at 6 to go to the airport and Moss had to work.  however after watching the EMAs on telly for awhile, I realised that if I’d wanted to watch TV I could have done it at home.  I was in Vienna!

Me: Let’s go back out.

Moss: What, Now?

Me: Yea, come on, I’m on holiday!

So off we went.  It was a bit silly really, but I wanted to squeeze every last ounce of enjoyment out of my 2 days.  When we got to the bar, some of the crew we there too.  I felt like they were my friends to so we had a few more drinks and then the Jager came out.  

I should know by now when to stop, I knew I had to be up early but was past caring by then.

I don’t remember getting up, or packing up my stuff, or saying goodbye, or checking in.  I remember being sat on a chair at Vienna airport, staring at a water feature and thinking ‘this is what it must feel like to be almost dead.’

Next I was at the gate waiting to board.  I saw a drinks machine.  I needed water badly, but wasn’t sure if I could actually make it over there without falling from dizziness.  I went for it.  There were 2 types of water, I had enough sense about me to realise that one was still, and one was sparkling, but I couldn’t understand the words. I needed still.  After swaying at the machine for a minute, I picked one and stumbled back to my seat.  I opened it. It was sparkling.  I wanted to hurl right then and there but needed to get the still water to rinse the taste of the sparkling out!  I fumbled about for more euros, I couldn’t count, the machine seemed so far away.  I was dizzy. I wanted to curl up in a heap and die.  I hadn’t felt this bad in years….

I don’t like flying at all, but I always promised myself it would never stop me from doing anything.  

We took off, the plane was small and I felt every movement.  The feeling of my alcohol filled stomach jumping up, the bouncing, the tilting.  I felt my whole body get hot.  Too hot, I was visibly sweating.  I reached for the sick bag and a voice in my head started shouting  ’Don’t you DARE, don’t you dare be sick on this plane, for gods sake sort yourself out.  

I wasn’t sick, but something strange started to happen.  I started to shake.  I mean really shake, I couldn’t help it, I moved positions to try to stop it, but I kept shaking.  The woman next to me glanced over, I was ghost-white, sweating and shaking and I’m pretty sure everyone on the plane could smell the alcohol streaming out of my every pore.  

The captain came on and said the air was rough (no shit!) and we would be landing in about 40 minutes. A new hot flush wave came along.  Forty minutes?  No!  I can’t do it, I cannot last 40 minutes on this plane.  I want to get off now!

It was so awful, I never want to experience that again, god know how I lasted, but I did.  After that I had 3 1/2 hours in Dusseldorf to kill, and kill me it nearly did, I wanted to sleep so badly but I didn’t want to be that person sleeping in the airport.  It passed in a haze…somehow.  Eventually I was on my next flight to Manchester.  By now I just wanted to get back and see my kids…and sleep.  I was so hung over and tired I had tears in my eyes as we touched down.

What a trip!  Such an amazing time, seeing my husband, seeing Vienna and almost seeing the contents of my stomach on the plane!  

I amaze myself sometimes, I am 31 and sometimes I still act like Im 19.  One thing is for sure though, the whole drinking then flying lesson has been well and truly learnt! 

 

 

Shoe shopping.

I didn’t plan on buying new school shoes today, but when both my kids came home with gaping holes in theirs, I didn’t have much choice.

I went to John Lewis (I know – check me!) as it was close to my mums and I’d had enough of buying £7 shoes from Asda that lasted about 3 weeks.

I had a full on day of getting ready today as I fly to Vienna tomorrow, so I really could have done without this whole shoe shopping thing.  

We walked through the store and Iden stopped and pointed at the mannequins saying “wow, I bet SHE’S good at musical statues!”

When we got to the shoe area, there was a suited man and his assistant running around after a lady with one of the most beautifully dressed, yet obnoxious children I’d ever seen.  We waited about 10 minutes and finally Mr suit approached me.

“Do you have a ticket?”

I looked around at the deserted area

“Err, no, but I think I’m next”

“Oh, ok, that’s great, that’s no problem at all”

I didn’t think it was.  Isla went first, she got her feet measured and tried on 3 pairs of shoes.  As she walked up and down, I wondered what the man thought of us.  Isla was wearing a denim skirt (in November) and one pink and white striped socks up to her knees the other at her ankle, with a mud stain on her calf, and un-brushed hair. Iden looked like he’d just rolled out of bed in his bagging manchester united top and football stained trakky bottoms, with his long blonde hair all over his face.

 Things worsened when it was his turn, he took off his shoes to reveal one light grey sock and one black sock.  Shit!  why didn’t I check?  I knew we were coming here!

“I’m dying to ask” said the suit with a chuckle  ”Does he have another pair of those at home?”

“ha ha ha” I faked “funnily enough, he does!”

I also told him to be very careful with my son’s odd-socked feet as they would be worth millions one day.  His face didn’t crack.

Iden tried on one pair and said they were too tight.  The man said they had plenty of growing space.  I think it was because his others we falling off his feet that anything in one whole piece felt restrictive to him.  

He tried on another and said they felt “lumpy”  ”That’s the curve at the bottom” suit told us.  he finally decided on a non-restrictive, non-lumpy pair, and after 45 minutes we were on our way.

I was really proud of my kids tonight.  Although the suit didn’t quite “get us” they were great, their little personalities shone through, and they were beautifully behaved, odd socked, mud-stained and all.

Tonight I said goodbye to my kids till Friday, it’s not long, but I found it really hard.  I think it’s because I’m actually leaving the country this time and not just hopping on a train.  I gave them both a big hug and a kiss and said I love them and I’d phone tomorrow.  As I drove off I beeped the horn and put the window down, just in time to hear Idens very loud voice shouting “I LOVE YOU BEAUTIFUL!” down the street.  Pretty much made my year.

The minority

One light, one mind
Flashing in the dark
Blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts
“For crying out loud” she screamed unto me
A free for all
Fuck ‘em all
You are your own sight

It’s amazing how certain times of your life will happen, then live dormant for years inside you, only to all of a sudden come to light at once.

It started about 2 weeks ago.  I had to give a talk on my time on Ringling brothers circus.  I dug out my programmes, newspaper clippings, pictures, got my act on DVD. and I started to remember my life 10 years ago, my life on the road, my life before I had kids.  My life as a circus acrobat, traveling the states  and Europe. It used to cross my mind now and again, but not like this.  

This past week my husband was in England with Green Day, I went to London, Sheffield, Birmingham and Manchester.  I saw them 5 times, I was a big fan before so it was like Christmas and birthday for me.

I find it hard to explain what I felt when i got backstage, but it was a sense of belonging, even though I didn’t know anyone, I know what that life is like.  I think it’s something that never leaves you once you’ve been there.

To say i missed it, is not enough.  It was a yearning, a need, a must.

I remember what it’s like to be part of a big show, sometimes when you’re doing it, day in, day out, you forget.  It becomes your normal life.  You forget that you’re all apart of something amazing. The riggers, the sound and light guys, wardrobe, catering, spot operators, performers, everyone,  everyone is working towards the same thing.  The amount of work and people that’s involved is staggering – but you are all necessary.

I don’t know what the happy ending is, I’m not in a position to up and leave with two kids at the moment, but saying I wasn’t jealous of my husbands job/lifestyle would be a lie.

I feel big change is coming.  I don’t know what it is yet, but sometimes the universe just gives you a huge smack in the face to keep you in check, you either respond to it or you don’t.  

Ironically,   I was one of the 80.000 people singing “I wanna be the minority” This past week

Forgive me for this unstable blog – I am exhausted, liver-damaged, confused, drained, jealous, bitter and emotional – I’m a fucking woman, what did you expect?

Robbie Williams should win the X factor

Today was a very up and down day, I can’t be bothered going into the whole thing, but here are the highlights…

 Isla threw a huge wobbly after I said they couldn’t watch a movie in my bed on a school night.  Upon reflection she went for a new tactic to get her own way, and I received this note;

Dear mum, I’m soooo sorry for my behaviour. please can you think about letting us watch a movie.  Please circle     YES       NO

Come and give me a hug, I love you so much!!!!!!

I circled NO.

We played Britains got talent and took it in turns to be the judges, Iden came on and sang a song he ‘composed’ himself, it went a little something like this:

The man, the man is dead.

The man, the man is alive.

The man, the man is in heaven.

The man, the man has pants.

The man, the man has a head

The man, the man is all around

Until he goes SPLAT!

I always said my son was a genius, this serves only  to confirm it.

 

Finally after being such an evil mother and not letting them watch a movie, I decided to let them stay up and watch the X factor as it is Isla’s LIFE.  Robbie William made a guest performance, but Iden didn’t quite get it. During his song he said this;

Iden:  Yea I think he’s gonna win.

Me: No, Iden he’s already famous, he’s just come to perform

Iden:  No, he should definitely win.

Me:  Iden, he’s not in the competition.

Iden:  Well he’s singing too, it’s only fair.  I think he should win it.

Isla: IDEN, BE QUIET!!  YOU JUST DON’T GET IT DO YOU? THAT’S  ROBBIE WILLIAMS, HE’S NOT IN THE COMPETITION.  HE’S A FAMOUS SINGER, HE’S JUST THERE TO ENTERTAIN YOU AND FILL IN SOME  TIME.  HE’S NOT A CONTESTANT!!

Me;  Ok Isla, calm down

Iden:  Well he should be in it….and he should win.

Tom.

 Growing up,  Tom and his wife Rosemary were the epitome of how I thought old people should be.  

He was bearded , skinny and did lots of pottering in the garden, while Rosemary was abundant and wholesome.  She wore floral dresses with an apron, her hair was soft and curly, in traditional old lady style.  Her best feature was her face, it was warm, friendly and cosy looking, she was always smiling and had the roundest, rosiest cheeks I had ever seen.  She was positively glowing. As a child she looked like the kind of woman you wanted to run up to and cuddle.  She was always baking and making nice dinners for Tom.  They were a wonderful couple.

I wouldn’t say we had much of a relationship, when I walked passed their house I always said hello, sometimes  how are you.  As I grew into a teenage they pretty much faded into insignificance in my life.

I went away for a few years and didn’t really give much thought to them.  When I came back I saw Tom a few times in the garden, but was too self absorbed in what was going on in my own life to notice that I hadn’t seen Rosemary’s beaming red face since I’d been back.

Every time I saw Tom, he asked me how my dad was doing.  I was abrupt with him. “Fine thanks” I’d say and walk off.  My dad was dying, he knew that, so why did he keep asking how he was?  I suppose I thought he was a busy-body, or just nosy.

I think it was a short time after my dad’s funeral that I saw her.  

I was walking down the street with my son who was in a push chair.  There was a van outside their house.  A wheelchair ramp was being lowered.  I approached the house and I saw Tom in the garden.  ”Hello there” He was chirpy and friendly as always.  ”Rosemary’s off for some fun at the day centre today aren’t you love?”  I looked down.  There was a lady in a wheelchair.  A guant, pale lady.  There were no rosy cheeks, Tom had done her hair the best he could but it was thin and coarse.  Her head rolled from side to side. I looked in her eyes, there was nothing there.  Black lifeless holes in her face. The only hint of emotion I could detect in them was sadness, a deep, dark sadness that if you looked into them too long would suck your soul away.  She mumbled and pointed at my son I couldn’t make out what she was saying but she said something about him being a guitar player. I was stunned.  I walked away feeling so sad for Tom, for them both, and cross at myself for not knowing.

Tom looked after Rosemary for years, it was a slow and painful decline.  He did everything for her.  It was the most amazing show of love and dedication I’d ever seen.  He always smiled, he was always cheerful.  He was never abrupt with me when I asked how Rosemary was doing.

Rosemary passed away.  So many times I wanted to knock on his door and see how he was doing. Rosemary was his life, and now she was gone.  

I never did knock on his door.  I don’t know why.

Tom still lives 7 or 8 doors down from my mums house, and he never ceases to amaze me.   A couple of Halloweens ago I took the kids trick or treating near my mums.  I stopped outside Toms.  I wondered if we should knock, Tom was in his 80’s, he lived alone, he might not like halloween as many old folks don’t.  I noticed the light was on in the front room and a small pumpkin outside, I thought we’d give it a try.  ”Don’t shout too loudly at him” I told the kids.  They rang the bell.  Maybe we should go.  Suddenly the door flew open and there was Tom, dressed head to toe in a pirates costume “Arrrrrgh!” he shouted at the kids, before bursting out laughing and filling up their bags with treats.

Awhile ago I saw him at 8am picking up litter from the street.  He is head of the committee for a volunteer group to re-vamp the local park.  He is very much involved in neighbourhood watch.  He found a kids scooter recently and knocked on every single door of the street to find out whose it was.  Every morning he is up and ready to go, filling his day with helping people and helping the community.  He is still as chirpy and cheerful as ever.

To me he is one of life’s amazing people.  

We still only say ‘hello’ to each other.  I always wonder if one day i’ll summon up the courage to tell him what i think of him, to say sorry for being snappy with him when he was just trying to help, to tell him what an inspiration he is, how much I admire his courage and strength, although in all honesty I don’t think I ever will.  Some things are just too hard to put into words.

I am also looking into guitar lessons for my son.

Working mums Vs Stay at home mums.

WORKING MOTHERS ARE SELFISH.

STAY AT HOME MOTHERS ARE LAZY.

Seems to me you’re damned if you do, and you’re damned if you don’t.

Working mothers have been getting some bad press recently, which seems to have sparked up the familiar old question ‘Should women work when they have children?’  This surprises me, as I thought this debate was dead and buried but anyway.  These days it’s not so much about wanting to work, it’s often a necessity.  However many women do want to work after they have kids, many don’t.  It’s a choice most women will face when considering having children.

I have worked full-time with kids, i have worked part-time with kids, and I am currently a stay at home mum, although this is likely to change.

When I lived in the states my daughter had just started school.  She would get on the school bus at 8.30 every morning and the bus would drop her off at home at 4;15pm.  The only problem was this: I worked full-time, and my hours were 4;00pm – midnight, with one day off during the week, and 9am-9pm every other weekend.  So as you can imagine I saw my daughter for about 30 minutes in the morning during the week, and every other weekend.  

I was working in a residential home, taking care of severe/profound mentally and physically disabled guys.  I loved the job. I found it extremely challenging but ultimately very rewarding.  As I took care of the clients night after night, giving them their dinner,  bath, medication and bed I began to realise I was missing doing all the exact same things with my own daughter.

 During that time Moss (my husband) was working away,  so my kids weren’t seeing either of us.  It was left to me to decide what to do. In the end i left the job to spend more evening time with my kids.  It was a very hard choice to make, but it was MY choice and ultimately the right one for me at the time.

One of my closest friends is a solicitor.  She is one of the only people I know. who has known what she wanted to do from a very early age, and go on on to do it.  She worked tremendously hard and now 10+ years on, is exactly where she wants to be in her career.  However. she is at the stage where she is thinking about having kids with her husband.  In the profession she’s in, she can’t stop work without things changing. and would probably have to re-train.  To stop, or drop hours means being unable to keep up the lifestyle she worked so hard for.  She doesn’t really want to put her child in nursery. but she doesn’t want to give up her career either.  At the moment she is still figuring it out, but I know that whatever she does, I will support her.  This will be HER choice.  Not for me, or anyone else to judge.

So put yourself in either one of our positions.

The choices are tough, not to mention everyone else will have an opinion on the subject.  

Then once you’ve made you’re decision, be prepared to defend it to everyone.  

After this you must join your party, either the working mums, or the stay at home mums, where will you go?

Why is there such a separation?  

I used to go on ‘Babyworld’ when I was pregnant.  There were separate forums for working mothers and stay at home mothers, every other day world war 3 would break out between the two forums, a working mother would nip over to the SAHM and make a snide remark or vice versa.  It was ridiculous.

Why is there a facebook group dedicated to defending the fact that “Stay at home mums are NOT lazy”  Who said they were? and why do you feel the need to defend what you are. or what you do?  It’s no-one else’s life.

My friend I mentioned earlier, and I are very different people in terms of career paths, lifestyles, children etc, but there is one thing we both understand and that is this: It is HARD to be a mother of a child, whoever you are, and however you manage it.  It is also hard to be a woman planning to have children but wanting to continue a career.

How other people lead their lives is nothing to do with you. Just get on with yours. and make the best choices you can for yourself and your family.  Please stop judging fellow women and start supporting each other.

Maybe I’m just a bit sappy, but I’d really like everyone to just get along…

It’s just an update, don’t get too excited.

Thought it was about time I blogged again.  

I can’t believe Moss was home for 4 weeks and now has gone again.  It always goes so much quicker when he is home.

The day he came back, we kept it a secret from the kids.  My mum kept them over night and then took them to the park in the morning.  I met them there. and we decided to call daddy on the phone.  He told them that before he left, he had hidden a present in that park and they had to find it.  The clue was something to do with a wheel, so they headed over to the tyre swing.  Unfortunately there was an undesirable thug type wearing a black hoody, mooching on the swing, he had his back to the kids and they just kept looking around the swing unphased,  After awhile they noticed something strange about the thug, something familiar and after awhile they of course realised the undesirable wasn’t undesirable at all.  In fact he was their daddy.

Their reaction wasn’t what we expected at all, they didn’t run to hug him. At first they just looked at him like ‘What are YOU doing HERE?’  They were totally confused.  Soon they warmed up though and were over the moon.

We crammed in alot while he was home.  He spent alot of time with the kids of course and we got to go out a couple of times.  It was lovely, although as I said in my earlier post, we did argue alot, but it’s always the way, and of course you just get re-adjusted and it’s time for him to go again.

It always happens all at once too, my mum went away on holiday, my brother just left for filming in south africa, and Moss just left too. It seems everything is normal, then everyone else is like “sorry jen, just jet-setting off here for a bit, ok?”

As I type this Moss is on a plane from Brussels to Lisbon, starting load in tomorrow.  This stretch isn’t too bad, its only 6 weeks which is nothing to us now.  

I am so super excited about seeing them all in October, I go in London, then Birmingham, then ride the bus back to Manchester for 2 nights.  If you like Green Day and are interested in hearing my up-to-the minute reports on backstage and tour bus action (not ACTION)  then follow me on twitter here , no doubt I will be tweeting insanely  during that time.  Anyway , as I said, I’m ridiculously excited.  I think Moss should write a blog about being a roadie, I’m sure it would be much more interesting than this.

I went to see Ray Lamontagne a couple of weeks ago, Dear God can that man sing! I was totally blown away, if you ever get to see him live then go. go. go.

Finally got my radio piece back, it came out pretty good considering we had no rehearsal time whatsoever.  BBC want to hear it at the end of Oct so keep your fingers crossed for me, and I’ll keep you posted.

So that’s me, back to ’single-mother mode’ for awhile again.  No doubt I will be blogging more now I have more time, with stories of washing lines, toilet seats and conversations with my insane kids, but for now I’ll enjoy my first of many rockin’ Friday nights in

My 6 year old on Darwin.

Isla (9) Iden (6) and I, in the car, on the way home from school today.

Isla:  My project’s on Darwin

Iden: Ah yes, I know Darwin

Isla:  Do you?

Iden:  Yea

Isla: Ok then, what was his theory?

Iden (screws up face)  Theory?

Isla:   yea, like what’s he known for?

Iden:  He discovered birds.

Isla (laughs)  What?

Iden:  He did, and he discovered where people came from.  He’s my biggest fan….No, wait, I’m HIS biggest fan.

Isla:  You don’t know enough about him to be his biggest fan.  If you want to be his biggest fan, you have to know all the FACTS!

Iden:  Ahhh man!  Oh fine then, I’ll just go back to being Ronaldos biggest fan then.

Isla:  Why, do you know all the facts about him?

Iden:  Yep, he’s really, really good at football, but he’s also a show-off.

Isla:  Hmm, I think you’re right.

New blog

I have a new blog about my stories from the circus, please visit it  here, thanks

I wish you’d done a poo at Paul’s.

I made jam today.  It turned out like shit.  I obviously left it too long and it turned into red tar – gutted…

Anyway,  Moss has been home over a week and it’s lovely to have our family complete.

 We have argued ALOT, this may sound alarming to some people but hey, three months is a long time.  We have different routines, we both got used to living without each other. We watched whatever we wanted on TV , on different TV’s on the other side of the world to each other.  I got used to having the kids in a routine that suited us.  I cooked and did the dishes whenever the hell I wanted too, Moss had a catering service, and runners who filled up the tour bus with their favourite treats.  Sometimes it was very difficult to connect, with me in Manchester and him in L.A, the 8 hour time difference proved difficult.  Moss was getting up to start a load in, and we had had most of our day,

With all that said it’s all just re-adjustment, it takes a couple of weeks to adjust to him leaving, it’s naive to think him coming back should be any different. 

On a different note you’ll be fascinated to hear that since I stopped work I have put weight on, whoever realised helping to get people pissed behind a bar could keep one so trim!  Anyway I decided I needed a personal trainer, since I don’t have a job and my writing career is non-existent, it would have to be someone extremely cheap.  Someone with a lot of energy, someone who could keep me in check and not let me decide to pack it in and just go for a fag instead.

She was sitting in front of me at that very moment, “Hey, Isla, how d’you fancy being my personal trainer?”  ”Well you’re not fat, but ok”  She played it cool, but later when I came downstairs I found an exercise schedule written in pink pencil crayon, and the computer was open on ‘YOUTUBE DANCACISES’  Actually I can’t wait, I think it’s one of my more brilliant ideas, will keep you posted on our progress.

This evening I decided to have a bath, Stu came over to watch the football so the kids and I were (actually I technically still am) banned from the living room.  Whilst soaking in the tub, the smallest of the small people camme knocking on the door.

Iden: Muuuu-uuuum

Me:  Yes Iden

Iden; I really, really, really, really need a wee

Me;  Ok Iden well I won’t be long

Iden;  No I really have to go now.

Me: Is it just a wee you need?

Iden:  Yes just a wee.

Me; Fine the curtain is closed so just come in have a wee and then go ok?

Iden:  OK

He came in. He we-ed.  I waited.

Me:  Have you finished?

Iden:  yes, only weeing though.  I think I need to sit down next

Me:  No! Iden please, I’m having a bath!

Groaning

Me:  For god sake, you said you only had to wee! 

Iden:  I know.  I was wrong.

Me; now what are you doing?  Can you flush now please I’m trying to relax in here.

Iden:  I’m putting my clothes back on.

Me:  What? Why do you have to get completely naked to go to the toilet?  Can you flush first PLEASE

2 minutes later he flushed.

Iden:  Bye mum, thanks, I feel much better now.

I didn’t.  I love my boy to pieces, but there is nothing more un relaxing than the smell of steam cooked shit!

Finally I think I’m going to make a new blog for my circus stories, they don’t really match up with these ramblings so i think I should keep them separate.  That is all.