Pancake Love

 

Pancake Love
Pancake Love

You know when you have one of those arguments with your old man, you know the ones which last several days and sees you straddling the edge of the marital bed in a bid to get as far away as possible from your betrothed. When, the same argument gets regurgitated round and round and you wonder how long this will endure before one of you will a) file for divorce or b) say sorry.

Alcohol can work in mysterious ways; effectively fueling the angst and danger of stubborn cupboard love. Or, just days later, oiling the wheels of coherent apologies and civilised behavior.

And in the sweet cold light of morning to maintain this new state of grace with your love make him some pancakes and coffee…freshly flipped, steaming with hot butter, maple syrup and remorse.

 

 

Twin Perks

Getting a ride on the back of my new loves bike was a profoundly altruistic experience, more so because I was five months up the duff, and we were wheedling through heavy Barcelona traffic.

Cycling our way to hospital, “Caballero”, the van drivers yell to my boy: a gentleman they considered him. As he humbly struggled to peddle me around, while I sat fat, blooming, getting a backie.

The twins

At that five month scan, our first – (eventually we had managed to decipher the bureaucratic Spanish health system) – the obstetrician asked whether we had planned our pregnancy.

“Errrr, no Señor”, we sheepishly admitted. He then proceed to interpret the scan image.

“…Your first child is here…” I looked across at my new love – he paled and fell back against the wall, desperatly looking for somewhere to sit down.

“There, there is the spine, the head and the vagina…”

“The second baby. Here, see the head, the spine, here, and the penis…Did you know you had twins?”

Shock, fear, joy and sheer disbelief flooded through me, fortunately I was lying down. Unlike Toots, who was clinging onto the cardboard walls.

“You are very lucky”, the obstetrician proclaimed as he left us in our newfound chaos.

We stumbled out of the hospital and gazed across at the steadfast, azure whims of the  Mediterranean sea.

We clung to each other in wondrous amazement. We were indeed blessed – we were magical. We could not believe this thing we suddenly held between us. Just an hour ago we had one baby and now, incredibly, we had two – we were: a family of four.

It was mind-blowing. More so, as we had met only eight months previously and had nothing between us except for a couple of rucksacks, a laptop, some books, our passports and a great and beautiful love for each other.

Nothing so far in our relationship had been conventional and now fate had dealt us another unexpected card. We truly believed our love was so magical that we had created boy/girl twins from it.

Little did we know at that time how common multiples are becoming as our generation parent much older and as IVF becomes more prevalent.

Eight years from that precious eureka moment Fealte & Rosebud have played a starring role in our lives.

And from those humble bycling beginnings we have continued on our quest for simplicity, knowing that the single most important thing we can ever give to our children is our love.

No need is there of great mounds of ugly plastic destroying our peaceful home.

No need is there of television or high-tech pushchairs, great monstrous high-chairs, massage classes or adidas trainers.

Pencils, paper, lego, books and latterly bikes are the most important tools in their lives.

Barefoot we plant seeds, water vegetables and make-up songs.

Research from TAMBA (The Twin and Multiple Birth Association) suggests that parents of multiples are more likely to separate – citing financial pressure as the main culprit.

But surely twins, or singletons, or three, or four children need as little or as much as you care to give them. Granted the costs of two high-chairs, two cots and two pairs of shoes at once may be great, but that is, surely, what IKEA was invented for.

No parent needs to lavish its offspring with the amount of material junk they do these days. No child can wear more than one pair of shoes at once. No child needs a mountain of DVD’s or plastic gadgets. No child needs to be taken to hand-signing or baby-yoga classes in a huge motor.

The amount of debt and expense taken on for the sake of an innocent child is incredible and cannot fail to rock the foundations of its parents as they struggle to keep on top of this mega debt.

And all for the sake of whose happiness?

Fromage

Forgive me this confabulation of fromage – but it is, indeed, National Poetry Month..in, err, The States, but I assume I can still join in?…Seeing as we are all part of the global cheese eating community, what?

IN CAHOOTS WITH LE TOOTS

 My Cheesepuff
In cahoots with le toots…..

This boy whose ripe semen
made my whole body teemen-
with babies.

This man of just thirty-five-
when we kissed, made me feel so alive.
With love and lust, with crazed, wild-headed amor.
And although we were always so, so poor.
We were rich with simplicity,
Just two babies, him and me.
No mortgage, no home, no sense of 2.4
A bycycle, some lycra.

But we always wanted more…

A dusty jeep in the Spanish mountains,
a French farmhouse…and space for counting
our children, as four became five.
A wilderness, a desert, a city, a community
That certain something, a je ne sais quoi, that will make us blissful with glee…

Of course, we already have it,
Me and my cheese puff.
We already have quite, quite enough,
And more, but that won’t stop us looking
We will never stop cooking-
Up; plans and adventures, dreams and desires,
Of stories to tell our grandchildren round campfires.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/category/daily-prompts/

To mesh or not to mesh?

Getting hitched in the 21st century is not a straightforward affair. Many modern girls who’ve got a ring on their finger have taken the new high-road; kept hold of their surname and attached their new husbands name to it – creating a double-barrelled extravaganza. Actor Aaron Johnson, for example, changed his name to Aaron Taylor Johnson after he married Sam Taylor Wood – who is herself now Sam Taylor Johnson.

However, others, more forward-thinking than this, mix theirs up and mesh the two surnames to create an entirely new one. TV presenter Dawn Porter and her actor husband Chris O’Dowd have together become O’Porter, and they are not the only ones, plenty more youngsters are meshing it up.

Myself; I went old school, took on the new name, as did our children, but only, I thought, in a minimal way, I would not relinquish my soul entirely and continued in my family name with work and with friends. However, as time has crept along – five years of marriage no less – in most paperwork and official detail I am a not of my own origin but of my husbands – and it does grate I am shamed to say as I do not feel like that person at all. 
In BathLife, last month, I was named: Hannah Newton in public, by jimminy – is that moi? I literally do not associate myself with that name – yet that is actually my name in many parts of my life. But, and I apologise to my out-laws at this point, I do not feel I am she. My heart and soul and very being is very much a Sturgeon and always will be, won’t it? Or will it be that as the years roll on, and they appear to super quick, I will eventually morph into that person and become her proper? 
But what about those double-barrel folks and their off-spring; exactly what happens when their son or a daughter get married? Will they add another name onto the barrel or will they whip one off? And who’s will be the one to go?

In Spain, traditionally a child will take on their fathers family name and their mothers family name – yet when they marry often the mothers family name is the one that is eventually lost.

So should you take on your husbands name and conform to a possibly outmoded and traditional form of identity or perhaps mesh your names to make a new one like Newgeon or Sturton, or double-barrell it up for some fun linguistic flippery?