Who is running the show?
Is it me, my parents, my offspring, my dog, my work, my mates, my wusband (“was-husband”), my ovaries, Mother Earth, the animals, the aliens, the 7 gurus* or some other higher power?
OK, I'm wanking on a bit...but aren’t some of these the questions we all grapple with?
This is a blog where I try to figure this shit out. It’s also about me, a single mum on the cusp of 40. I’ve just broken up with my husband and best friend of 17 years. In the past year, I’ve been diagnosed with severe endometriosis, which has acted as a wrecking ball on my long-suffering abdomen, sticking organs together and swelling up giant blood babies bigger than my uterus. I’m awaiting surgery to have the endo removed.
I live in Essex (it’s much nicer than you think) with my 10-year-old son, my gorgeous adorable dog, and my wusband who will soon relocate. I’ve undergone IVF (the separation occurred in the middle of this) and finally have three cutie little embryos in the freezer after 7 years of trying to have another baby. They are in deep storage at a well-respected London hospital where celebrities go to have their babies (so it must be good).
It’s a messy set of affairs.
What else? I’m a control freak, drug-dependent (and yes, alcohol is a drug – I've kicked the caffeine though), dancing, semi-hippy with facial hair (not quite Harry and the Hendersons yet) and vegetarian (who wants to jump on the bandwagon and be vegan but can’t give up cheese). I have grey hair, stretch marks and occasional irritable bowel syndrome. I’m also a burgeoning Buddhist and have been reliably (though drunkenly) informed by good friends that my spirit animal is a bear – one of the reasons this whole ursine theme is going on.
My close family are content checkers and terrified of what I’m going to write here. I also have a wide and extended lovable family who provide lots of gentle ribbing, laughs, tears, healthy dollops of guilt and body shaming, alongside seriously spicy food. They are bat-shit crazy and beautiful. My friends are the same, but with a dash of cool. (OK, some of my family are cool too, but I can't tell them that, they’ll get big-headed – it's not the Indian way.)
If you want to learn some shit from this blog (I would stop reading right now if you do), I guess you could classify it as a journey towards health, happiness, prosperity, self-love, love-love and compassion for all beings (including plant beings) and the Earth. The plant being bit I stole from a hippy on a food documentary I was watching. It made me laugh, think and then feel guilty: what can I actually fucking eat without causing suffering?
I’m writing about the moments of my life that make me cringe, sweat, grumble and cry, so I can provide amusement to others and (most importantly) myself. Like the lyrics of Child Psychology, a song by Black Box Recorder, “life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it”. I’d say my motto nowadays is “life is unfair, kill yourself or blog about it”.
*Mama Bear pointed out in the first draft that there are 11 gurus (including the holy book - Guru Granth Sahib) not seven – I’ve always been a disappointing Sikh.
Who's who in the Sloth Family
G Bear (me)
G Bear (me) – You can read all about me in the About page, but I’m someone who likes to be in control (though more and more I’m learning to let go – of my “rightness”, my need to be in charge, to plan everything within an inch of its life, my marriage and even my ego and sense of self – cue spooky music). The ursine theme (a fancy-way of saying “bear”) came about because of an amazing synchronicity, something to do with the stars and spirit animals. Maybe I’ll blog about it. But till then, that’s all you’re getting, folks. I wear my heart on my sleeve and love food, meditating, dancing, cooking, seeing my friends, walking, buying presents, being in control and TV.
Cub (son)
The love of my life. He’s 10, super smart, handsome, funny, philosophical, loving and cheeky. He’s not in charge of anyone specifically, but obviously he’s a kid, so he is in charge of me in many respects – it’s annoying the power your offspring have without doing anything to earn it! He’s seriously destined to be a wondrous person. OK, I didn’t mean to make you puke a little bit, I know I’m biased, but seriously, nearly all his teachers have thought he’s amazing, too, citing him as their favourite. Sorry, I made you sick in your mouth again, didn’t I? I can’t talk about this without doing that, so I’ll move on.
Teddy Bear (cockapoo pup)
The second love of my life and a trans-teddy. This was unexpected. When she was handed to me as a puppy, I didn’t expect to fall truly, madly, deeply and instantly in love with a fucking dog. It’s a problem, I don’t see why she can’t be considered the same as a human (neither can Cub, who wants to “marry her”). I think people who say they don’t like dogs just don’t know any and are being speciesist. I’m unbearable. I’m even in the throes of organising a cockapoo dog walking group – that’s the level of anorak I am now. She’s a right madam and definitely thinks she’s in charge of us, especially Wasband, whom she bullies on a daily basis by intruding on his personal space.
Wasband (was-my-husband)
One of the funniest and definitely most infuriating person I know. We've been together the past 17 years. The first decade flew by, but after that things got rocky. We've come through an amicable split and his humour and wit get us through some long days. He’s my moral compass and knows me better than most, but I’m learning to rely on him less and let him go. Wasband is in charge of really important stuff such as putting the bins out, doing the washing and gardening. I don’t really give him much room for manoeuvre, but he kicks against my bossy ways. I credit him for Cub’s eloquence and super-dark sense of humour. He has multiple sclerosis, which has more influence on our lives than any of us would like. He also loves gilets and making up songs about things people find inappropriate, like cancer. He’s lost multiple loved ones to this though, so he’s earned the right.
Mama Bear (Mum)
She’s an enigma wrapped in a samosa, layered in a biryani. She’s kind, loving, discerning, super-smart and an amazing cook. In her own words, she spends most of her time trying really hard with people, with life, but then says or does one thing and “ruins everything”. I think this is something many mums can relate to. I respect her because she’s changed the things about her she didn’t like more completely than any person I’ve ever known through the power of mindfulness. She’s my personal hero. She also looks younger than me and my sister, which is a constant source of annoyance to us. She doesn’t like being in charge, strangely (she’ll ask me if she’s making rice correctly – rice, FFS, a dish she’s been making since before I was a twinkle in my Papa’s eye). Since she has brought up two headstrong daughters, I’m not too sure how this has happened. It’s good though – one less person to strive against!
Papa Bear (Dad)
Is an eccentric entrepreneur. He’s also a dreamer and is always striving for more and better. He could really do with stopping and smelling the roses in life as he’s constantly on the go and we all worry about his health. He thinks he’s THE BOSS. We pretend he is to make him happy. He loves being secretive, watching terrible TV till late at night, snoring in public, gadgets and food (preferably a roast from Toby Carvery or a scotch pie – don’t try one they are gross – you’re better off with haggis). He also likes holidays, presents, hugs, giving advice, salt in industrial amounts and critiquing other people’s cooking, driving, parenting, etc.
Sista Bear
A gorgeous, giggly, loud and sometimes scary mini me. She’s fierce with a heart of gold. She has massive eyes (not evil ones as depicted here). When she’s around there’s no consensus – it’s her way or the highway. Again, she’s a big advice-giver, a fan of terrible TV, an egg enthusiast – she loves everyone and always gives to others. She’s also a big softie who cries at anything and everything on TV/film (I’ve caught her weeping at commercials), but in real life she’s tough as nails and rarely lets her emotions show – unless she’s shouting at you. She’s a self-confessed daddy’s girl and since there’s only 18 months between us, sibling rivalry rears its head now and then.
Butler Bear
Sista Bear’s long-suffering husband. (I think it’s been 17 months now!) He’s an amazing addition to the family. He cooks, he serves drinks, he makes terrible jokes (so bad they’re good), he’s great with kids and dogs, he likes to consider his options carefully (he’s a bit of an overthinker) and we all love him. The girl done good. He’s actually managed to use humour to get his way with Sista Bear, which works so much better than any of my methods over the years (shouting, slapping, hair-pulling and guilt-tripping – the final method has proved the most effective). He’s the fittest* man I’ve ever met (see footnote).
Bro Bear (brother)
He's handsome, strong, hairy and honest. He’s very moralistic, has firm rules about the right way to do things (FFS) and is very loyal. He’s also an IT whizz in general and a speed freak. He’s 11 years my junior and nine years younger than Sista Bear, so he’s grown up being bossed about by everyone – ha! His secret weapon has been to completely ignore us – it’s quite effective, too. He’s a lover, not a fighter (unless it’s play fighting, then he loves to tackle everyone, including poor Mama Bear – he nearly dislocated her shoulder once). Never get into a play fight with this speed demon. Did I mention how hairy** he is?
Bey Bear
Bro Bear’s girlfriend, is a teacher and a real beauty. She’s generous, thoughtful, kind and caring and she’s touched Beyoncé’s butt. She makes Bro Bear happier, fitter and healthier (and better dressed) – she’s definitely ended his extended teenage years. She’s made the boy grow up, goddamit! She’s been there for us in times of need and I loved her instantly. I wouldn’t want to say who’s in charge there – it’s too early to tell, but it’s weird not being able to boss him around directly anymore, as our demands on him rightly affect her. So, we have to be more sharing and considerate of that – cue charming bow.
*I originally wrote ‘nicest person, not fittest’ about Butler Bear, but he was upset I didn’t comment on his good looks, so I have edited this to appease him – the gorgeous, dashing, devilishly handsome-looking man that he is. He’s not vain, though. Who said vain? Not me!
**Because of Papa Bear, who we also know as Gorilla Man, Bro Bear was born looking more like a baby chimp than a humanoid. This hairy gene is great for the boys, but not so great for us girls. Well, actually, just me – Sista Bear dodged the fur-coated bullet. One year, my family actually bought me laser hair removal treatment as a cool birthday gift: when the time is right, I will be reborn as a smooth criminal.
Footnote 1: All names have been edited to protect the identities of my loved ones in case anyone tries to kidnap, murder or poison them (Mama Bear’s suggestion, of course).
Footnote 2: Mama Bear also helpfully suggested I remove the name of the London hospital in case anyone tries to kidnap, destroy, or what else could they do – eat? – my embryos (what, too dark?).
Footnote 3: I do have a job, but I can’t be bothered to go into it here – this is supposed to be some light relief from that area of my life, so if you know me, and work with me, please know I love you, respect you and you mean a lot to me. But I need a different outlet as work is so much of my life. I don’t think anyone can argue with that.