If I Could...

Iv'e been tagged by the lovely Laura, who blogs at My Life as a Mummy to take part in the 'If I Could' tag. Thanks Laura.

The idea is to answer the preset questions, daydreams allowed, and then tag other bloggers to take part (If they want to).

So here goes...

If I could live anywhere... Oh I'm so glad day dreams are allowed... If I could live anywhere, (anywhere, any time, any dream) I would choose 'Walnut Grove'... Except I'd have Pa build me a proper oven, cause I'm buggered if I could bake like Ma bakes in a tiny little hole to the side of the fire place. Oh, and I'd be needing an inside loo... how Ma manages to poo in that tiny little outhouse in THAT skirt, is beyond me.

A little house on the Prairie...where all the skies are blue (In my dreams they're always blue). Where all the people (with the exception of Mrs & Nelly Olsen) are kind and compassionate, peace loving, neighbourly.

Imagine washing in the creak, watching Pa (preferably topless, Pa should always be topless!) working the fields. walking through fields to get the kids to school. Kids that skip, and tag, and ring-a-rose.

Imagine a town where no one goes hungry, because as poor as they are they can always, always, stretch the stew to one more!

I do :)

If I could have any home ...This is a tough one because I love the house I'm in now, it's been home for a long time, I've always felt safe here, it's familiar, it's beautiful... it's home!

The trouble is, it's not my house, and as our Landlord has spent the past year attempting to sell it from under us (though currently it's off the market temporarily until neighbouring building work is completed) it's no longer safe! .

On that note, if I could have any home other than my current one (or 'The Little House on the Prairie')... it would be secure, safe, preferably owned.

It would have disability adaptions, (including wheelchair access) for Littlie... and a private, south facing garden, with a pretty little shabby-chic Lady-shed, to write in.

Actually, while I'm still day dreaming... I wouldn't mind one of those DIY-SOS jobbies...not least because then I'd get to meet Little-Leci-Billy- ;o)

If I could have any garden... That's easy...the garden I have now. I'd love to pick it all up, worms and all, and take it with me. As it is, since every plant in the garden attached to the-house-that's-not-mine was payed for and planted by me, I will be digging up anything remotely dig-up-able, and taking it with me.

If I could be on holiday right now... The reality is, fear prevents me from flying, it also prevents me from travelling (other than locally) in a car, and even if I could travel my budget wouldn't stretch to a holiday.

The dream is, Spain... I went to Spain (Marbella), for a week when I was eighteen, and would love to revisit.

Actually, I say a week... I fell in love with a gorgeous Spaniard and stayed put. Three months later I (and my broken heart) came home... Turned out Gorgeous-Spaniard wasn't mine to love, he had a wife and child in Lanzarote!

Despite the heartache (not to mention the shame), I still have such beautiful, and incredibly vivid memories of the places I visited, and the things I experienced whilst there.

Oh, how I'd love to walk those streets again - paddle those seas again - visit those cafes again - dunk those doughnuts again... "Un chocolate con churros por favor" :)

If I could have any job... Illness prevents me from working these days, but if I could work I'd go back to what I used to do before (and after, once they were old enough) I had children... caring for the elderly.

When I was a teenager my best friends Mum owned, lived in, and ran a home for the elderly, my friend and I worked Weekends as teenagers and went on to work there full time after leaving school, and then periodically after we both married and had children.

I loved every single minute of it... I'll never forget my ladies!

If I could have any talent... I don't need to think about this one, I'm reminded of my lack of talent in this area every day. I would LOVE to be able to sing.

I often sing along to music (I use the term loosely!) if I'm at home, but always mime anywhere else, even in Church; because there are no words to describe the unholy noise that comes out of my mouth when I sing out loud!

I've always been aware of my (tone-death-doesn't-cover-it) singing voice... I remember being as young as seven-ish and miming during assembly so that the other kids couldn't hear me, silently mouthing each word dramatically so as to appear believable if a teacher looked my way.

Turned out one teacher was looking my way; he picked me for the school choir... because, he said... I opened my mouth so beautifully when I sang. o_O

For the rest of that school year (wishing I was invisible, and still miming) I was sat at the front of the hall during assembly...with the rest of the choir!

If I could live one day again... - it would be the last day I saw my Dad.

My Dad lived a long way from me, and, as mentioned above, mental illness/fear prevents me from travelling. In February of this year (3 months before he died) my Dad, my always-there-and-if-he-wasn't-there-he-was-getting-there, Dad, came to me. Riddled with Cancer, barely able to stand, and in unimaginable pain, he came to me... he came to say goodbye.

We hugged lots, loved lots, talked as much as he could manage... goodbyes were left unspoken, neither of us able to say the words.

When he left, knowing how hard the moment was for him, I hugged him brave...like a grown up. The child inside was bawling, I didn't let her out.

He released my hold on him, kissed my head, and said "keep smiling babe", then he turned and walked down the garden path.

When he reached the gate he turned and looked straight at me, he held my gaze for only a moment before turning away again... in that moment I read my life time in his eyes... and I read his breaking heart, his I love you... his goodbye".

I didn't want to be brave anymore. I wanted to run down the path with the child's tears pouring down my face, throw myself into his arms, beg him to stay.

I stayed dry-eye-brave in the doorway until he'd disappeared through the gate. Then went into the toilet, stamped my feet like a child, and cried.

If I could live that day again... I'd run down the path!

If I could have any super power... Ooh, now then... can I have two?
Time travel would get me to 'the Walnut Grove' of the Ingalls's, but I've always quite fancied being Mary Poppins. If I were Mary Poppins... I could click my fingers and put the whole world to rights.

David Cameron...click...gone. George Osborne...click...gone. Iain Dunken Smith...
click, click, Dunky!
World peace...click...done. New home...click. Housework...click... *clicks fingers hopefully*.

I'm think I'm gonna go with Mary-Poppins-Power...
If I can jump into pictures, travel by brolly, and have tea on a ceiling, I reckon time travel will be a breeze...
Walnut Grove here I come... Just as soon as I've outed the Tories ;o)

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

I tag the following people

Carol - carolhedges.blogspot.co.uk

Lizzi - summat2thinkon 

Henrietta - https://thetriumphantweed.wordpress.com/

Stephanie - http://stephanieneighbour.com 

Lynn - thegrumblinggargoyle.blogspot.co.uk

Paula - http://paulareednancarrow.com 

Elena - http://www.livingwithbatman.com/

Shawna - honeyquill.com

Dear tagged... Please feel free to ignore the prompt if you are busy, or if  blog tags are not something you usually take part in.

Dear reader... Please do visit the bloggers in the above list if you have time. They are all fabulous bloggers...well worth reading :o) 

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Of Windmills and Woes

If we were having coffee, I'd be playing 'hide n chat' this week... blabbing (nervously) about your drink preference, how your weeks been, how long the kettle's taking to boil... windmills - I like windmills I do, lets talk about windmills, do you like windmills, come see my windmills.

Every silence would get a babble, an anxious, smiley, bubbly babble... and I'd be wishing you'd talk about you.

I'd drag you outside to see ALL the windmills, babbling the old, the sentimental, and the new... you'd be wishing by now you'd gone to star bucks...alone!

If we were having coffee, I wouldn't tell you how incredibly tough (special needs) parenting has been this week...

I wouldn't tell you how many times 'Littlie' has morphed from 'absolute Joy' into 'absolute nightmare', on a day to day (often hour to hour) basis, and how mind blowingly difficult it's been not reacting to her meltdowns with a few (there's only so much I can take) meltdowns of my own... how tough it's been keeping the 'me' that's not 'Mummy' in check.

Littlie has more than enough to deal with, none of it her fault, the last thing she needs, is the me that's not 'Mummy'... especially in response to the 'She' she can't help.

{Littlie (you may already know) is 9 years old, and was born with a chromosome disorder (Prader Willi Syndrome), which affects her both physically and mentally. She has global developmental delay, hypermobility, OCD,  and Tourettes (amongst other issues) ...I won't bore you the symptoms, the list is seemingly endless.}

If we were having coffee, I might explain her disability (if you asked), I'd even touch on how challenged/challenging she can be... but mostly, I'd tell you how funny she can be, how engaging, and affectionate she can be, what a wonderful character she is...how far she's come, how hard she tries... and how much I love her!

I couldn't love her more if I tried!

If we were having coffee, I wouldn't tell you how debilitating my own disabilities (fibromyalgia & mental illness, exacerbated by grief) have been this week... how hard it's been to think positive, speak positive, do positive...because no one likes negative, right?

I wouldn't tell you how confusing it is, to be Mum, to be wife, to be friend; just to be... in a world that chugs on...so quickly, pulling me (inwardly screaming) along with it.

If we were having coffee, I wouldn't ask you for a hug, despite needing one, desperately... because, in a hug I'd blub, lose control, spill 'ALL the things', scary things, big things; too big to blab things... I can't do that, no, I can't do that.

I prefer hugging to hugged.

If you needed a hug - if you were upset?... Oh, I could do that, yes, I could do that... I can always do that.

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If we were having coffee, and I had added my woes to my windmills, you might not believe me anyway; because I'd be wearing a smile, long sleeves, and a face full of make up - chatting about windmills, 'absolute joy', and you...

...because, it's easier (and fairer) to share 'absolute joy' than it is to share 'absolute nightmare' - easier to play 'hide n chat' than it is to play 'chat the crap' - safer to talk windmills than it is to talk woes!

Oh, and because I'd quite like you to come again... :)

If we were having coffee, I'd ask how you were, and wonder, does your "I'm okay" mimic mine!
Do you play the game too? are you playing it now? Filling silence with babble... sunshiny, smiley, bubbly babble... wishing I'd talk about me.

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Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

P.S... Littlie is currently presenting (at time of kettle boiling)... as 'absolute joy'... long may it last :)

P.P.S... I'm adding this post to the Weekend Coffee Share, linky/bloghop... the brain child of 'Part Time Monster'. You can read other Coffee Shares, and/or add your own ((HERE))

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Related posts...

It's your Birthday and I'll cry if I want to. 

You know where the kettle is #WeekendCoffeeShare

'Somebody's Son' (Nurturing in passing) #1000speak

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SOMEBODY'S SON

Snow falls, blanketing the Town 

Somebody's son is cold 

his hands are froze to biting 

his body (though not) feels old.

Sat upon a cardboard sheet 

Somebody's son, alone 

Huddled against a letter box

gloves wet from shifting snow

Across the street a chip shop

full of faces, bright, but one

Sad face's heart is breaking 

because she, is somebody's mum. 

As she watches through the window 

somebody's son lays down to sleep

his head on stone cold concrete 

body curled on cardboard sheet 

As she turns to place her order

Somebody's mother wipes her eye

and offers up a silent prayer

'Lord, Please don't let him die'

Across the street, now sleeping 

somebody's son dreams hungers dream

Of Yorkshire pud, fish and chips

and mint choc chip ice-cream

He doesn't hear her snowy tread 

or the "here son" she does tell 

It's to dreams come true he comes around

awakened by the smell. 

Ten doors up, hugging 'Chippy tea'

a mother's eyes stream

Because somebody's son is smiling

whilst unwrapping hungers dream 

Somebody's mother, one portion down 

turns away, heads off home

Where waiting, no doubt hungry 

are two sons of her own.

Copyright©2015kimmie All Rights Reserved

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This post is my contribution to Aprils 'One Thousand Voices for compassion' movement - a monthly event to promote and encourage good in the world.

On the 20th of each month bloggers and video-makers from all over the world come together to speak for compassion, in the hope of making a difference. 

Each month there is a new topic (This months focus is NURTURING) alongside the broader topic of compassion.

#1000speak is a beautiful movement and one I'm proud to be a part of.  :o)

"Let ourselves care about strangers, act on behalf of those who are helpless, and encourage everyone we know to do the same." ~ Lizzi Rogers

There are so many #1000speak contributions, from bloggers all over the World.... I encourage you to check them out if you get a chance, I'm sure you'll find some that resonate with you. 

You can do that by following @1000speak on Twitter or by checking out the '1000 Voices for Compassion' Face book page Here

#1000SPEAK FOR COMPASSION 

Speaking for GOOD on the 20th of every month

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Thank you as always for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x

You may also like: Marie's Voice #1000speak

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'How did I survive that' ... (In 99 words)

I had planned to write some poetry this afternoon, but, whilst searching Twitters writing prompts this morning, I stumbled upon the following ... write a 99-word story using this ending: How did I survive that?)

I may still ponder the poetic later on this evening, but for now....

'HOW DID I SURVIVE THAT'

I don’t remember how I got to my bedroom that evening with a full bottle of tablets and a pint glass of water. I don’t remember contemplating suicide, or for one single moment wishing I was dead.

I don’t remember feeling suicidal. I don’t remember wanting to die. 

I do vaguely remember taking the pills.

There was no lining up of tablets like you see on TV, no thoughts, no fear, no emotion - only *nothingness*.

I tipped the pills from bottle to mouth until there were no more pills to take. 

Oftentimes I wonder... How did I survive that?  

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POSITIVE THOUGHT

28 years (and four children) on - I feel incredibly blessed to be here.

Thank you as always for allowing me to share

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie x

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