I’m been struggling with my sleep, though. It’s not something I’ve traditionally had issues with, so having to lay awake, tossing and turning, huffing and puffing … well, it hasn’t been helpful. I’ve never been able to run on little sleep, not even when S. was small and sleep deprivation was part of the job description. Even then, even when I figured I was all prepped and ready for it, M. had to step in and take more than the lion’s share as we established – pretty early on, as it happened – that our household was going to be a happier one if I scrapped at least six hours a night. That should’ve been the first clue, right? The first indicator that motherhood and I were barely going to be on nodding terms, let alone having coffee mornings together.

Anyway.

So, yeah … I’m losing sleep. And I think too much. Even as I lay there, listening to M. snore and staring up at the spiderweb cracks in the ceiling, I’m trying to figure out what it is that’s keeping me awake. ‘Cos it’s a sign of stress, right? Loss of sleep? Only, I don’t feel stressed. I feel perfectly fine. Yes, I’m busy, but I’m busy with things I enjoy, you know? Work’s great, and my book – though a little reluctant sometimes – is coming along okay (85k words in, my friends – Eighty-five thousand fucking words. Chapter 11 was kicking my ass for a bit, but now I think I have it head-locked and ready to give me back my lunch money). I don’t do the online thing quite so much anymore, and what I do is cool and great and perfectly manageable. I don’t get to play games as much as I’d like but pft, what’s new? We already knew that. And so I lie there, these thoughts tumbling about, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s simply the complete lack of stress that’s stressing me out. That it’s my feverish scouting for a reason, an excuse, that’s doing me more harm than fucking good. That maybe it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy when there’s no real reason to keep you up at night, meaning I’ll just keep on searching for an excuse and never find one until it winds me up so badly it finally does stress me out and I’m in a worse mess than when I started.

See? Told you I think too fucking much.

I need to stop taking my laptop to bed with me, though. And my phone. And I need to fall back in love with reading¹. And, between you and me (‘cos, you know, the internet and my globally published blog is such a private forum), I suppose I have been grappling a little with the Big Questions, recently – the big OMG-I’m-Nearing-My-Mid-Thirties-How-Did-That-Happen? conundrum, and the Wait-A-Minute-Is-This-My-Life? stumper. I had my heart broken by people whom I had thought were my friends, and I once again regressed to spiral-permed, buck-toothed, unilaterally unpopular 14-year-old me (the me I was shortly before I had my braces removed and I realised that my breasts were weapons). Only this time, I’m all bitter and black and cynical and mean and thoroughly unpleasant and I can’t even redeem myself with the excuse that I’m just a kid. The older I get, the harder I get. One strike and you’re out, dude. I’ve got no time for second chances. Move along and take your sorry with you. Or bend over and I’ll shove it up your ass.

I try to be a better person and rise above it. But it’s like my core, the very essence of me, is just a bucket of dark, bubbling hostility. I read about people like Becca and think – holy Christ. She is such a good person. Me? I like to think that I’m a good person. That I’m a thoughtful friend, and a kind mother with a good soul and a warm heart. But the truth is I’m just me – confused and confusing, clusterfuck me – fumbling around in the darkness that is my life and trying to get to the other side without smashing my shins on the fucking coffee table.

Edit 19:15: it’s just occurred to me that I’ve written a long, rambling entry on Valentine’s Day without even mentioning it. If that, my friends, doesn’t properly exemplify how I feel about VD day then I don’t know what the hell will. Whilst I’m not totally without sentiment (I can get quite emotional and attached to the strangest things, and I have a steel box full of small, silly little mementos that someone, somewhere, touched me with), I’ve never liked Valentine’s Day. Having been in a safe, secure relationship for sixteen years with the love of my life, I can be confident that it’s nothing to do with being snide and single, either. I just find it crass and stupid and infantile and utterly without consequence.

See? I AM A DARK BUBBLING BUCKET OF HOSTILITY.

1 The last two or three books I’ve read have been shite. And since I won’t ever – EVER – quit a book, even if it sucks donkey balls, it means that for a moment or two there reading became really laborious. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to understanding M.’s POV when it comes to recreational reading).

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I think I recall crowing last year that I managed to miss most of the flu/coldy things floating about. My Fate God heard me, laughed outrageously, and has been making me pay ever since. Bastard. It feels like I’ve spent the last three months coughing and spluttering. I wouldn’t mind, but the cough is this disgusting, phlegmy gross mess that makes people cross the street to avoid me and my voice wouldn’t be out of place in a porn movie. Whispering in low, husky tones is amusing for about a week, but after that it just becomes tedious.

Anyway.

Thankfully though, I was phlegm-free for Christmas. Which was lovely by the way. S’s holiday started early thanks to three millimetres of snow we had the Monday and Tuesday before Christmas which somehow justified a school closure, and although that meant I didn’t get my leisurely rest on the first day of my own holiday, it meant that we got two extra days together – yay. Father Christmas brought everything S wanted (which was a fucking miracle, by all accounts – he was not easy to buy for this year) and his extended family got him everything else. This year he’s obsessed with football, mainly Tottenham Hotspur and Cardiff City, so his bedroom now looks like a teenage boy’s thanks to the football bed linen, trading cards, football shirts, balls and Tottenham Hotspur-logoed alarm clock. I don’t mind admitting that I get a little pang of regret when I look in there now; although it’s wonderful that he’s growing up, forging his own personality and likes and dislikes, but it feels like it’s all too fast.

As for me, I was very lucky this year. I received many books (including Stephen King’s new one, and the Ant and Dec biography), DVDs (Michael McIntyre, Russell Brand, George Michael, Grey’s Anatomy, 24, Steve Coogan) and games (Assassin’s Creed II, SingStar Take That and with Christmas money I bought the Batman AA Collectors’ Edition, Lips #1s and pre-ordered Bayonetta). M also bought me some ‘fancy’ walking boots and a decent all-weather coat, now that I’m at one with nature and am forced to – sigh – go walking with D, neither of which I have to send back ‘cos I think they’re gross. Score! One brother got me Zelda: Spirit Tracks and the other cash towards my Paul McCartney ticket (mental note: write that up soon) and two Guitar Hero figurines which are totally awesome. Heh. And the gifts we bought for our loved oones seemed to go down well, too. Which is always the best part. :)

Best of all? We managed to get through all of Christmas without putting anything on a (groaning) credit card. That is definitely a first!

Christmas Day itself was low-key but lovely; M cooked, S and I ate, and my in-laws joined us for lunch. Not for a second doubtful about Santa or his origins, Sam spent the entire day in raptures over his gifts and playing with everything – which meant I spent most of the day opening brightly-coloured boxes and untwisting those INSANE wire thingies that seem to hang on to every child’s gift in the universe. Between Christmas and New Year we visited friends and family and generally dossed about, and then for New Year we had our BFFs up from Brighton to stay, which was – as it always is – incredibly awesome. We christened one of M’s Christmas gift – a top-of-the-range slushy maker! – by making fruit slushies and loading them with vodka, washing down platefuls of antipasta and tortillas. A perfect way to chime in the new year, and no mistake.

As for 2010? I don’t really do resolutions, but I am hopeful. I’m proud that I’m significantly smaller than this time last year, and I would like to keep that up, but I’m trying not to obsess. I’ve, inevitably, gained a bit of weight of Christmas but a) who hasn’t and b) who cares?! Like I’ve said previously, I joined a gym in mid-December and – chest infection pending – I hope to get back into some semblance of regular exercise soon. Otherwise, I don’t have any particular promises I wish to make/break. All I hope for is a happy, healthier, financially-stable year, and to keep on loving my boys more with each passing day.

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Ours was last night. We had a team outing last week, which was all very civilised and lovely, but last night signaled the official end of the year for the entire organisation so – as is the tradition – all hell broke loose. It looked like a scene out of Saving Private Ryan, only with blazers and ties and inappropriately low-cut tops.

People drank too much, ate too much and gossiped too much. Glasses were smashed and people fell over. As I understand it there were more than a couple of inappropriate propositions, made worse by the fact that the propositioned was sober and the propositionee was oh-so-not. There was an argument, (although that was me, yelling at my Work BFF when he left me waiting around outside like a lameass) and when one of the guys hugged me goodnight he grabbed my left breast when he pulled away. (You’d be reasonable to assume that it was an accident but there was CUPPAGE, people). I also ended up having to take a colleague home. It was miles out of my way, but should give an indication to the kind of state she must’ve been in to have warranted such a lengthy detour.

Yes, I was driving which and yes, that is boring, but as I don’t particularly need alcohol to have fun and always struggle to get home, it’s often just easier to have the car. Plus I’ve witnessed that many people commit career-suicide at Christmas functions over the years that I’ve just learned that it pays to be restrained. (Well, sometimes). I’ve been struggling a bit in work this year – a whole messy, stupid saga that I’ll bore you with one day, I’m sure – so I spent most of the evening in the company of the scant few guys who work at my place, safe in a booze-fueled haze and conversations about video games, films and lewd jokes. (Aside: It’s only recently that I’ve utterly accepted that I struggle to make and retain girlfriends, a fact emphasised further when I realised that the few good female friends that I do have tend to have the same issue. I’m so much more comfortable in the company of guys; they talk about stuff I understand, and there’s rarely snide glances or catty comments. I’m definitely better off sticking to what I know. Yeah, people raise their eyebrows and exchange looks when I’m the only female in a crowd of lads, but at least I know where I stand, you know?)

Well, as long as they’re not accidentally-deliberately grabbing my tits.

Anyway!

In other news, I aced the first assignment of my Masters degree, coming home – bizarrely – with a distinction for a topic I had never even HEARD of prior to my class, let alone studied. I think everyone else on my course thinks I’m a suck-up and hates me now. Heh. And thanks to all for the kind comments about Fluffy Sam. He seems to be okay, but the vet doesn’t really understand what happened, nor can offer anything to help. I think we’ve concluded that it must’ve been some kind of seizure, but right now it seems like we’ll never know for sure. Very odd.

Right. TMI stuff is coming up, so look away now if you can’t read the word PERIOD without wanting to hurl:

Had an appointment with my consultant last week who flatly refused my request for a hysterectomy. I think he thinks that I made the decision on the hop, like I just thought of it randomly as I was walking across the car park or something, but seriously – I cannot go on like this. My family cannot go on like this. We know that we can’t have any more children and I’ve made my peace with this as best I can. Every single time I have a period my insides are getting worse, and every time I have a period it’s heavier and heavier and lasting longer and longer (it lasted THREE weeks last time). I have to have a spare change of clothes with me, and I can’t go anywhere or do much of anything because I’m completely fucking stoned on painkillers. So honestly – what’s the point? Take the whole lot out. It’s all well and good him telling me that I’m ‘very young’ and that this operation has a ‘high regret rate’ but it’s not like I don’t know these things. What’s the point of putting off the inevitable?

Anyway. We compromised on me having second course of Zoladex, the subcutaneous injections that did nothing for me in early 2007. This time, bizarrely, it’s brought bring on a period and a whole mess of mood swings and insane crying fits. Gee, thanks. If the treatment works, woohoo, and if it doesn’t work – and I’m convinced that it won’t – then we’ll talk seriously about the surgery. Until then I’m stuck with omnipresent menopausal symptoms and a monthly shot. Awesome.

Otherwise, we’re all ticking along nicely. I’ve been working on a secret little web project for the last couple of weeks, which I hope to launch soon – I’m dead excited and hope (some of) you will love it as much as I think I’m going to. If it KILLS me I’d like to finish off the changes to CodeGrrl, which have been in the pipeline for years but – due to my crapness – I haven’t done. Yeah, I’m being cryptic on both counts but watch this space . . .

Offline, my weight loss has gone tits-up thanks to two weeks of consecutive partying, but I have (re-)joined a gym and played badminton this week in an effort to buffer all the cake-eating by pretending to exercise. (Aside #2: I still much prefer my EA Active to actually going to a gym – is that weird? But my friend was desperate to join and, as we’re quite good at bullying each other when one of us is being crap, we hope that our over-competitiveness will spur us on). I’m actually incredibly down about it, which is pathetic and stupid but true nonetheless. I’ve put on 3lbs in two weeks and whilst mentally I realise that this is not the end of the world, I just feel like a massively self-control-less LOSER, not helped by the fact that I my hormones are all over the place thanks to these shots. Happy Days.

Christmas presents have (mostly) been bought, albeit not wrapped, but as today rings my last day in work for 2009 (THANK FUCK), it’s my intention to get going on it all on Monday. Last year I distinctly remember getting the boxes down from the attic only to find a heap of painfully unwrapped gifts. I ended up tearing around like a whirling-dervish on Christmas Eve trying to get it all done – not how I’d envisaged spending the evening and certainly not what I plan on doing next Friday!

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There are loads of reasons I haven’t updated, but none are particularly satisfactory, unfortunately. I suppose the main reason is that I got sick of self-editing; too many real-life people have this URL, and whilst I’ve never been anyone but myself in the confines of this journal, it does make it a tad more difficult to slag someone off when you know they’re probably reading. I also got a bit bummed at the lack of comments, and I’d become aware that my entries weren’t particularly engaging – which potentially explained the former fact, of course. So I took some time off, worked on other stuff whilst, as always, balancing my clients, too. (Work has slowed right down in the last six months or so, but I still have just enough dripping in to keep me ticking up. Just). I also, finally, finished up SHH.com in July which was not only a fucking miracle, but also infinitely satisfying, too.

And then, a few months back, I got an idea for a new layout. It’s so hard to work on something for yourself when you have to design to order (I don’t think it’s just me – lots of other designers seem to say the same thing) so this nugget of an idea took me by surprise, quite honestly. So I mulled it over a bit and half-heartedly opened Photoshop and then, a few weeks later – voila! A brand new look. (Hit the link to reload the theme if you’re still seeing an existing layout, BTW).

So, I’m hoping that the new look inspires me. My last theme had been up for three years – THREE BLOODY YEARS – but, unfortunately for you lot, I really liked it (I still do, actually!), so I wasn’t ever particularly motivated to change it. But the code was aging and there was little scope to include new stuff like Twitter updates etc., so I went back to the drawing board. What you see now is the sum of several months worth of chopping and changing but I’m really pleased with how it’s turned out and am glad that I took my time with it, even if the WP loop utterly kicked my ass for a while there.

It’s not perfect; known issues include a weird footer FUBAR in Opera on OSX (bizarre – usually Opera renders EXACTLY the same as FireFox) and a bizarre header misalignment in IE6. I could get sanctimonious and say that it’s a deprecated browser that was crap to begin with, let alone now in 2009, and insist that people using IE6 should REALLY get with the times and update. But since 40ish% of you guys seems to still be using it, I did go through and hack as best I could to make it legible. So whilst it’s readable, it’s not ideal and I will go back to it with fresh eyes. (And no, I’m not too proud as to refuse help. If any of you wish to take a peek at my CSS and suggest where you think I’m going wrong, please do!). Update 30/11/09: BALLS. There’s a header error in IE7, too, according to my work PC (even though it’s okay on my PC laptop at home – must be due float class and the screen resolution?). Have obviously arsed up some coding somewhere. Anyone got any ideas?? I think I’ve fixed the error now(?). I only have access to IE6 and IE7, the latter of which is stuck at a shitty resolution so may still be telling me all in a-ok when it’s not, but I’ve gone back to the code and think I found and fixed the error. Please let me know if you’re on IE and still having problems!

Otherwise I’ve tested it on FireFox (PC and Mac), Safari (Mac) and IE7 (PC) and I think everything is okay besides a stray code sitting expectantly on my links page that I can’t remove as it has something to do with WP’s auto-listing of links. I don’t have access to IE8 or Chrome (which is still PC only – boo), so please do let me know if you’re having problems viewing on those platforms – just drop me a comment and I’ll try to fix the place up. :) In the meantime, please be patient if things go screwy but do let me know if you think you’ve stumbled across something I missed!

Site aside, I’m doing pretty good. We – and by that, I mean all three of us – have just come back from a long weekend in New York City, which was – as always – thoroughly awesome. I started my MSc last month and while I’m crapping myself and struggling to find the time to do all the reading, I am enjoying my first module. Work is . . . well, work is work, but let’s cover that in a passworded entry another time (there’ll be more passworded entries – I’ve decided it’s the only way I can still write here without stressing about who’s reading it). I’ve shifted almost 40lbs since this time last year, which I’ve managed to do whilst balancing my desire to be thinner at the same time as never fully restricting myself. I don’t go hungry and I’m doing my best to be a little more active and it all seems to be working right now. Keep your fingers crossed I can keep it up! Sam lost his first tooth, and then promptly lost another. He also went through a horrible spell of being picking on in school where I’d never felt as helpless as a mother as I did right then. I think it’s mostly settled now, but it was a shitty time and one I hope never to experience again. Kids are so fucking mean sometimes. But otherwise I still completely love being his Mum and spend all the time we’re apart wishing that we weren’t. Heh. He amazes me every day and I’m so, so proud of the little boy he’s become.

Let’s see – what else? I’ve also picked up a writing gig at aeropause.com, a kick-ass site by gamers for gamers, and I’m loving every second of it. I went to the Eurogamer Expo in London last month and even though I went alone and was gawped at most of the time I was there (thirty-something blonde gals don’t really fix the gamer stereotype) I had a riot. Look out for Bayonetta and Heavy Rain – they rock.

So . . . yeah. I’m back. I’m sorry I disappeared. It wasn’t cool to up and leave like that, I know that I’ll regret this in years to come; my journal has always been about me and for me, and the moment I started worrying about other people was the moment I backed the hell off. I’ll now have five-month gap where I won’t know what happened, and all because I’m a prat. Pft.

Anyway, that’ll do for now. If you think I’ve missed something critical do feel free to drop me a question in the comments and I’ll bring you up to speed!

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