Ok - you know how technically inept I am... Somehow I have added a "Newsletter" section that can not be deleted - I don't know how, there doesn't appear to be an option to do it and it's frustrating me.

Rather than continue to be frustrated, I wondered if any of you had any suggestions on what you'd like to see on a Newsletter. Obviously I have my blog (you're reading it lol) and I put my ramblings and thoughts on it, but I thought that something a tad more professional would be needed for a Newsletter. I don't want to write things that people wouldn't want to read, and I do like to do things properly, so this is my call for help. Any suggestions and ideas would be really gratefully received. I hope you don't mind me asking - I know it's cheeky, but I am a little lost here.

You can email me at constantlytrying@hotmail.co.uk or twitter me, and honestly, any help would really, really be helpful.

Lots of love. Cx

My ups and downs haven't had anything to do with hubby today - for a change lol.

Middley came home from her school trip, and I've missed her like mad. So have the others although they wouldn't admit to it. The three of them have had their bickering session, so I know that all is well lol. Hubby likes them home, he likes to know where they are so when Biggey goes away for her school trip he'll miss her like mad too - although he'd never say it...

On the topic of Biggey, she brought home a fabulous Swiss Roll today. Honestly, I've never produced a Swiss Roll to the standard (if you scroll down you'll see a photo of it) and I'm so proud of it. Where she struggles with academia, she more than makes up for it in practicle. She's doing really well at cadets too, only has to pass the shooting range and she's onto the next level. I've been assured there's no way she can fail this. "Even if she shoots her own foot?" I asked. "She'd have to be going some" their response was "she's lying down..." "oh - Good oh" lol. I am very proud of my little cadet :o)

Now then. This is where my down comes in. I used to be a bury my head in the sand kind of person when it came to Dementia. I would take it as it comes, and deal with things as they arose. I knew things were going on in the background, but aslong as they were going on and getting done and were there when I needed them to be there then I was happy with that. Selfish - Yes. As I appear to be with most things I write about, but dealing on a day to day basis was really all I could handle at the time. I now feel like a sleeping tiger that's been woken. The nurse that has been in court accused of horrific offences against dementia patients (https://www.yorkpress.co.uk/news/10426706.Nurse_faces_being_struck_off_after_mistreating_patients/?ref=twtrec) and the ensuing debate about whether she should be allowed to nurse again has ruffled my feathers severely. If a mechanic didn't fix the breaks on a car and then there was an accident would they be allowed to be a mechanic? If a chef poisoned someone would they be allowed to continue chefing? If a teacher did something with a pupil that they shouldn't do would they be allowed to continue teaching? I DON'T THINK SO. Sufferers from this illness are not put into homes because their families want a holiday or they can't be bothered with their loved ones. They trust the homes. They trust the staff. They have to. They trust them to show their loved ones care, compassion, respect, empathy and dignity. If someone had done this to my husband, father of my children, son to my in-laws, I'd be hunting them down and ensuring that the book was going to be thrown at them (and I'd make sure it was a bloody heavy book). If they don't want to show these emotions, or even common courtesy then there are other jobs that they could do - like be a light house keeper. I'm a great believer in Kharma. What goes around comes around. This is why I speak to people as I would like to be spoken to. I treat people how I would like to be treated myself. That doesn't mean that I'm a push over. Push me and you'll find that out, it just means that I have courtesy. Manners cost nothing (as @WandererKirsty and I were blethering about on Twitter today), and they go a long, long way. 

This nurse (for want of a better word) might think differently if it were her mother, father, son, daughter or heaven forbid herself that were relying on the help of others. You wouldn't treat a dog the way she treated her patients, and it makes me sick to think that there are others out there doing the same.

There are wonderful people out there in the caring community. They work their socks off (my sister in law is one of them and my mother in law used to), and no, they don't get the breaks they need, or the money they deserve, but by Christ they'd have something to say if a member of staff they were working with behaved like this. Carers need a medal the size of a frying pan and all it takes is one bad egg and everyone is tarred with the same brush. Shame on them.

I'd like to say a big thank you to all of the wonderful dr's, nurses and social workers that we have come across - you truly are all round good eggs, and without them I think I'd have jumped in the river with concrete shoes on. 

Never lose sight of the fact that the most important yardstick of your success will be how you treat other people - your family, friends, and coworkers, and even strangers you meet along the way.
Barbara Bush 
... and I never thought I'd be "cue"uoting (bloody "cue" button) Barbera Bush... lol xx

I've tried to post this on Twitter, but for some reason (and it will be my inability to do anything technical) that it won't let me, but I soooo wanted you to see it. I've never made one this good and am so proud of her :o)

She definitely gets a Jnr Domestic Goddess for this. Yum yum x

There's me on the phone to my mother talking about Les Miserables saying that one of my favourite bits was when they were singing "Master of the house", doing the accent and hubby shouts at me to stop swearing... Confused I ask him what he's on about. "I hate women swearing, stop saying arse"... hmmm. Not sure what he was on about I repeat myself to mum only for him to shout louder. Then the penny drops... I'm singing "Master of the 'ouse" and he's thinking I'm saying "Master of the arse" - although what kind of film I'd have to be watching for that to be in it is beyond me lol. Still, I'm not allowed to sing it at all now lol. 

This is what it should sound like... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qBU1PCIqO-8 needless to say I didn't sound anything like it ;o)

I'm in the kitchen and turn around to see the dog waiting at his bowl for tea. I looked at the clock and said "it's not five o'clock yet, you've got fifteen minutes to wait". He looked at me in disgust, got up and walked through to the living room. Who says dogs are daft lol. When the girls start doing this I'm buggered LOL.

I've been a right mardy mare the past couple of days. (Have you missed me?... lol). When I get like this I find it hard to write things down and I think it's because when I've written it, it's true. Everyone is saying how well hubby's doing, and yes - he's soooo much better than he used to be. I mean I haven't had things thrown at me recently, I haven't been pushed (accidentally he said) against a wall recently, I haven't been spat at recently, I haven't been told that "I want to jump on your skull just so I can watch your eyeballs pop out of your skull" recently, or "told that I'm going to have to live in a cardboard box and live under the bridge where he will parade our girls infront of me so that they can watch me die of pneumonia and be told what a whore I am" recently or had my house keys taken off me and belongings put into bags so I can be thrown out recently. Thank God.

Yet I see small niggles that others overlook. Make excuses for. Don't notice. People aren't stupid, they must see it, so why do they do it. It doesn't help anyone. It doesn't help me because it makes me feel like I'm seeing things that aren't there, makes me feel like I'm second guessing myself because everyone else is ignoring them. I understand why they do it, but who does it help? Certainly not me.

I've noticed the words getting jumbled, back to front, the wrong word used etc. I've also noticed the moods. I spent twenty minutes in the sports shop the other day (God bless middley for telling me her shorts didn't fit, one day before the school camp...) listening to "I'm sick of you having a face like a slapped arse" or "you look like your sucking on lemons" or " you're so fucking miserable" etc, etc. and what did his mum do? Laugh. Yes, probably an embarrassed laugh, but nothing compared to the embarrassment of being followed around the shop being insulted. "No-one will have heard" was the reply from her. Of course they f***ing did. He always raises his voice when he's cross. It's like Tourettes. When he has the thought he has to say it, and heaven forbid you try to stop him mid rant because he'll just go back to the beginning and start it from scratch, so I guess I should be glad I kept my mouth shut and be grateful it only lasted twenty minutes.

Yesterday it was the "you're so fat" - it's true, nothing made up there, I am big, fat, overweight (any other words you want to substitute fat with) but dear God, do I need to be reminded - the mirror does that for me. He prodded the bits he thought were fatter than normal. Comments on what I'm eating (same as him but smaller portions believe it or not), and just is generally mean about it. I've always been big - well, that's a lie, I used to be slim, but he didn't like that because other men noticed me and he didn't appreciate that. I will be honest, I'm trying to lose weight, I want to be about 3stone lighter, but for me, not for anyone else, and it's a constant battle. I've lost one stone so far, but it seems redundant with more to go. I'm the funny one, the one who makes people laugh. Women are happy with me nattering to their husband's because they'd never fancy me, and men are happy to natter to me because their wife's would never think that they could fancy me, how could they? have you seen the size of her kind of thing? - does that make sense? So my weight is a minefield in itself.

I get wrong for not doing enough, I get wrong for being lazy. "How can you be tired? You don't do anything?" is a regular comment in our house. I never stop. I worry and stress all the time, and I think that's what was wrong with me yesterday. I was so ill last night - I can't remember the last time I felt like that. I now have longer hair (because he doesn't like it any shorter - never mind what I like) and OMG, what a palaver that is, head over the toilet throwing up like a good'un trying to hold hair out of the way, whilst the girls are going "mum.... I need the toilet..." even that was stressful lol.

I'm meandering - I do that when I've got lots wittling around my head. All I'm trying to say is that he isn't as good as family are suggesting. Until he has his tablets he's awful and then it's like a light switch, it's miraculous. Yet he's losing the power (for want of a better word) to control his little temper tantrums. Littley cried this morning because she said "daddy is forgetting our names more now" - she's eight, she's noticed.

I think the house is like a ticking time bomb. We can all remember (with the exception of hubby) the moods pre meds. The being followed round the house, the not being allowed on the phone incase you're talking about him, the standing in front of you blocking your way because he has something to say and you're not getting away until he's said it, the intimidation, the horrid things he said to the girls, the horrid things he said to me, and whilst it is his illness and not him that's doing it, it's still hard trying to disassociate him from the illness. The blank expression in his eyes when he's ranting at you.

It's awful, and I'm a horrid person for saying this, but I can cope with the memory side of this bloody illness, it's the mood swings of Dementia that I struggle with. It's robbing him, and us, of the lovely gentle giant, funny, kind, give you the shirt of his own back man that we love unconditionally. We're at the start of this illness, how we're going to cope as and when it gets worse is a frightening thought. Although, saying that, I seem to work better on adrenaline when things are going wrong than I do when we've plateaued, hence why I think I've hit "the wall" this past couple of days, but I can see the plateau dropping off view in the not to distant horizon.

Ah well, rant over xx

I was lying in bed last night when I remembered that I had forgotten (sounds backwards I know) to put our Les Miserables ramblings in my post (although it was a long one anyway so I hope I didn't bore you too much), so here goes.

Hubby took the runaway camera out yesterday afternoon as the girls came in from school, so we put the new dvd on to enjoy it in peace. Littley was sitting on the rocking chair, middley was on the two seater, biggy was on daddy's swivel chair and I was on the other two seater (yes, you would be forgiven for mistaking us for DFS - hubby has a thing about chairs. We make Peter Kaye and his emergency chairs look tight. There's 11 dining chair scattered through the house... don't even start me on tables), and we were snuggled and comfy and enjoying the film (even Middley who hates musicals).

Well... the volume was turned up half way through and we didn't think anything of it, until the canon was fired. Bugger me. I was in the safe zone, but poor middley and biggey weren't. They have the speakers directly behind them... biggey slid of the swivel chair and landed on the floor and middley... She had been lounging on the sofa in a way not allowed when daddy's home, and she cleared it. Not one piece of her body was on the seat. Her legs and arms flailed about in mid air and we should have sung "Major Tom" as she re-entered the atmosphere lol. I honestly couldn't breath. I had tears. My tummy hurt from laughing. Their faces were an absolute picture. I had to rewind to the previous scene because we missed so much of it in trying to regain our breath, and composure lol. Poor buggers - but dear God, it was funny. x

Dear God, it's been a day and a half today. After a peaceful reprive of a coffee before he got up (and Jeremy Kyle - wrong, I know, but it makes me feel "there are always others worse off than yourself, but seriously, what kind of net do they use to get these people?) he gets up and potters about a bit. The neighbour comes in and tells us our zapper for locking and unlocking the car (key - why didn't that word spring to mind?) was on the same thingy as his door bell. Every time we lock or unlock the car his door bell rings. I tried not to chortle but inwardly I was pissing myself laughing, especially thinking about how last night I'd left both my purse and phone in the car and retrieved them separately... The thought of next door's wife coming down the stairs in her winceyette at silly o'clock had me biting my cheeks (yes I have an evil streak).

He then decides to take me out with him to take photos. We took the dog (why?). The hill almost killed me, I mean this hill would have put Sir Edmund Hilary off tackling Everest, but I channelled the dog's strength into pulling me up it. I then realised this was not a romantic walk in the countryside, I was being used as a pack horse (note how I say a pack horse and not an elegant dressage horse - no, I'm like a pit pony, or the thelwell pony if I'm being brutally honest) and off he tramps with his camera in hand, me trying to take pics on my mobile (I'll upload them tomorrow - just to bore you lol), with the camera bag slapped across my ample clevage, the dog winding himself around my legs and trying to dodge all the sheep muck (because I wouldn't be allowed in the car if I had any on my shoes) and then the dog starts limping. Bloody hell. Off he comes to do his Dr. Doolittle bit like Superman with his cape billowing behind him, and like a bright spark he takes the lead off him. Well, I don't think I can do this justice, but that little beast was like a bottle of lemonade that you put a sweetie in and watch it go "kaboom". He was doing spins, running off like a Gazelle, coming back (I'm sure he was aiming for me to get a direct hit) and then tried to pee on hubby's camera bag... fortunatley the bellowing of husband brought him back to heel (I'd have been burying him if he had Christened the bag - the dog, not hubby). Nothing wrong with his foot now then... We decide to start and walk down the desent from hell with me saying "please put the lead back on the dog or he'll..." and off he went. Jesus, you'd think he was going for a land speed record. We've only just got him micro-chipped, but maybe we should have got a "stop" button attached too. Next thing I know, hubby's passing me like Mo Farrell in a bid to catch him, which he did, but only because the dog was waiting for him at the car. I passed them both on the way down as hubby was taking the dog back to the top to teach him that he should wait... I knew what was going to happen, but thought it would be worth watching so I said nothing (I've already mentioned I have an evil streak). I continue my way down the hill only to hear "my name, name of dog and my name again" bellowing from behind me. I turn around only to see the dog hurtling towards me. I heard the "whoosh" as he raced past with the sideways glance of "nah nah nah naahhhhh na - you can't catch me" (which would have been true if I'd even tried to), and there he was sitting patiently at the boot of the car when I finally got through the sodding iron gates (still laiden with camera paraphernalia). I asked hubby what had gone wrong and he said "I took him back up the hill to show him he should have sat and let me put his lead on so I could walk him down the hill. I turned around to put the lead on and he was off. I walked the sodding hill for nothing". Another inward chortle. The dog then played on the limping bit by walking around like John Wayne, but we know better - little bugger. Rang the vet's just incase but they think he just stung his foot. Hubby then says "that wouldn't have happened if he was on the lead"... more inward thoughts...

I then had littley come home from school and ask me if I would mind going in to show them how to draw. I said I could if it was an afternoon only for her to say "I've already told my teacher that you'll be coming in"... huge sigh.

To top if all off, just before bedtime, middley decides that she does want to make an effort for the disco on her school trip (Wednesday). Middley is never interested in her appearance, so I don't know what's happened but OMG, "what dress am I going to wear?" DRESS? Dress? She being the child that refuses to wear dresses because they're too girly? Bloody Hell - who have I upset today? This means that we then have to go through biggey's wardrobe looking for things that on any other occasion she would never look twice at. We finally hit upon a dress only for her to say "what shoes will I wear?" This almost had me at tipping point. Finally she has her outfit for the disco - none of which belongs to her, but she will look lovely :o).

I've had about 16 chocolate fingers, although I managed them in about 8 mouthfuls (admit it, you can fit a whole one in your mouth too, it's just that I'm gifted and I can get two in at a time) so really the calorie content was dramatically reduced due to condensing them two at a time.

All in all it's been a knackering day, and I for one will be glad of bedtime. x

It's a beautiful morning here, the sun is shining and it doesn't half help put a spring in your step. I've been up since the crack of dawn so that I could take Biggy to the mini-bus, she's got a day of athletics ahead of her - bless her, she's not the tallest of individuals and she's doing the high jump and long jump, but good for her, I admire anyone who tries hard and boy does she.

I've already been to the co-op (where people were wearing their pyjamas - why, I ask you?), come home, put the shopping away, made breakfast for middley and myself, am waiting for littley to show signs of life and the creaking of the floorboards to suggest he's on his way down.

I've got the in-laws coming for tea this afternoon, a mountain of ironing (and washing that will replace the mountain), a list as long as my arm of housework to do (I can see me doing the bathroom with a toothbrush again), and biggy to pick up at 5.30pm.

Happily, middley hasn't thrown a strop with me so far, I'm not the worst mummy in the world, I don't make everybody sad or angry and I'm not to blame for Global Warming - so far. All because I cut her toast into triangles - if that's all it takes I'll happily cut anything into triangles... :o) She is a lovely lassy, she really is, but when she's unsure about daddy all hell breaks loose and I might as well be all that is bad with the world - but so far, it's smiles and skipping all the way :o).

I'm going to enjoy my cup of coffee in peace, put on a cd, crank it up, shake my booty (apologies for any earth tremours now... and for trying to sound young and down with the kids...) and work like the devil. Isn't it strange how a little bit of sunshine can put a whole different spin on the day. 

Hmmmm. I like to play Scrabble. I play it on facebook and I enjoy it. It keeps my brain ticking over and I love words and beating people (I'm competitve, but is that sooo bad?... Ok, it is. I can't even let the girls win at snap...). Tonight I've played two games. It goes like this...

Game One: I'm winning (of course lol). It's a laddy in his late teens. I don't chat in the chat section, I like to concentrate on the words, and I'm happily playing away until two or three goes from the end of the game when he writes something in the chat section. "Thank you for the game" "Ahhhh" I think "a boy who's been brought up with manners". Then he goes on to say "I w**ked over your profile picture, but don't worry I used a condom"... WTF? Seriously? Why tell me that? I could have lived without knowing this. My next thought was... wow - I'm impressed at his ability to do two things at once, and his mother must be impressed with his cleanliness - you never know, he might have caught something viral (did you see what I did there lol). Needless to say I left the game, and went and changed my profile pic. Now I'm not saying I'm a looker, but I can hold my own for an old bird. Having said that, I do just have my face as my pic because I crop my body out - don't want to frighten anyone with an overweight walrus on their screen, I'd be most offended if Greenpeace turned up at the door thinking I was beached. The pic I was using was taken on a night out and I had my red lipstick on  (Chanel - the days when I could afford such luxuries, I remember them, just). So I thought change the profile pic. So I did. Another cropped pic (you seeing a theme here?) I avoided anything "racey" on the lipstick front and I picked a one where I had a nude lipstick on.

Game Two: A couple of moves into the game... "Hi, I'm a strange old man from Yorkshire", now please, if you're trying to be "friendly" over a game of Scrabble (who'd have thought it?) your opening gambit would not include "strange old man"... Thoughts of someone hanging about a badly lit carpark with a baseball bat, gaffer tape and an open boot springs to mind. I do find it a struggle to keep my mouth shut - it is something I should work on, but tonight I ignored the remark and continued playing, only to be told "I don't need contraception - I've had the snip (I'm not sure it was his decision, it could have been at the dr's insistance so as to prevent furthering his dna) do you have a webcam?". WHY? I just want to play scrabble. I forfeited the game (the swine, it goes against my stats) so I've given up for the night. 

Some people pay a fortune at online dating - all they need to do is go and play Scrabble. I've "pulled" from one end of the age spectrum to the other in the space of an hour and a half, but come on, I play because it's a bit of me time, not because I want my ego boosted by the wierd and wierder.

Anyway. Rant over lol. I'm going to have a cup of tea and go to bed early, what a rockstar lifestyle that I live lol. xx