Look at my Crystal Balls (up.)
Do you believe in fate?
Are you a subscriber to destiny?
Do you believe in the sixth sense?
Can you stretch your mind to accept the spiritual world may exist?
Do you believe everything happens for a reason?
I don’t burn incense, wear long flowery skirts and pray to the gods of the vanilla latte every morning (although maybe if I did I would get more freebies) but some things have a habit of freaking me out slightly. Every now and again an occasional happening will occur that I am unable to explain, thus making me think to myself, I have no choice but to believe in some of the above.Then, there will be the type of days where other things happen (usually something untoward or just plain awful) and I think, there is no way this is meant to be (like stepping in poodle poo first thing on a Monday morning) and subscribe firmly to the chaos theory.
So if somebody was to ask me those questions above, I suppose it would really depend on the day/week/month I was having.
Right now? On the basis of the previous day/week/ month my answer would have to be, maybe, Sometimes, yes, yes and no.
Let us examine the facts.
Women’s intuition Vs fate. Most women, mothers, fathers and folk who want to make you feel better for averting a scene will say at one point in thier lives ‘ooo well done you! Must have been women’s intuition.’
I have even used the saying myself usually when I have a strong feeling something is going to go a miss, or usually when I can feel somebody (usually another woman) dislikes me or wants to out fox me in some way (this may also be known as paranoia but let’s not go there.) A man (code for; The Irish One) can easily put this down to ‘all women being a bit paranoid and bitchy’ (Mental note to self; stopover sharing girly conversations with the Irish One) but I would have to say I do believe in women’s intuition.
Take last Monday as an example, I spent an eternity trying to fit in to my pre pregnancy size 12’s and was delighted when I finally managed to secure the top button in place (using a crow bar, some butter and girdle that did nothing to help my asthma.) I looked in the mirror and for the first time in a while was moderately pleased with what I saw. I had hidden my 6 tiered birthday cake top (because muffin top does it no justice at all) with a flouncy, flowy type tent top and based on the fact every ounce of butt and thigh flab was woven so tightly in to the denim material (think anti -fat bastard cellophane in the full Monty) I had actually succeeded in looking thinner that I actually was. Walking, breathing and moving without looking like I was doing the faulty towers ‘don’t mention the Germans’ comedy walk proved to be a difficulty but still, it was a small victory and I was happy.
Now let’s call it women’s intuition, but I just knew at some point in the day one of the buttons was going to fly off causing some unsuspecting grandma to go blind or eventually the denim would give up its losing battle and they would tear. However, I did not care.
I left the house carrying everything but the kitchen sink and shuffling in an attempt to keep them from cutting off all circulation to my lower half. We made it to the Trafford centre successfully with only a tinge of blue on my neck telling the untold story of me being unable to breathe. But sure enough, as I picked up Woo’s bag out of the car I heard it, the unmistakable noise of jeans giving up the ghost.
A tear from my crotch to my arse, not dissimilar to the one I suffered during childbirth. My jeans had bitten the big one. Women’s intuition and fate? I think so. But you tell me.
Mother’s instinct vs. destiny. On Thursday we had planned to visit Stockley farm up north, near where my cousin lives. For the record, and as an aside to this post, it really is a fantastic place to go with the kids. Addison loved it, I loved it and we came back thoroughly knackered after experiencing all manner of fun from sheep racing, to soft play to having a picnic with some escaped cows.
But back to my original point, Addison is now 1, and therefore I feel I am passed the stage of worrying he will shit up his back. We successfully transitioned across from Huggies to Pamper’s at the back-end of last year and it has never happened since (That elasticated waist is the stuff miracles are made of, let me tell you.)
But for some reason on the morning of the day of the visit, I caught myself throwing a spare pair of jeans (for him) in to the changing bag. (I say I caught myself as I am currently operating on auto pilot and would be hard pressed to even remember packing the rest of the bag in all honesty)I do however remember thinking, the bag is full enough already woman! Why bother with a pair of pants you won’t need? But something (my mother’s instinct, not my mothers, she has her own instinct, I mean mine, you are still following right?) told me I should.
On the way to farm and minding our own business singing to the wheels on the bus (code for; Rhianna) on the m6, a woman nearly ran us off the road. I absolutely shit myself and woo got a fright too as I had to break very suddenly and very hard. (She brought three lanes of traffic to a complete halt and carried on like nothing had happened. I was positively seething but thankfully my road rage was quenched when I saw the driver to my left giving her the middle finger and much, much more.) Sure enough, because of this, when we reached our destination his pants were soaked, and I couldn’t blame him either, I could have done with a spare pair myself too.
Thank god for the spare jeans huh? (I realised afterwards he had actually been sitting on a wet wipe and the pants I had brought were from when he was 3 months old, so i didn’t have a hope of getting him in them but that is besides the point.) Mothers instinct and destiny? I think so. But you tell me.
Coincidence vs. the sixth sense. On Tuesday I was frequenting my favourite place again, yes you guessed it, the Trafford centre, to meet up with the wonderful miss Katie Bailey when I stopped at the corner of Selfridges to fasten octopus boy/Houdini in to his pram correctly.
As I was wrestling my Russian gymnast in the making back in to his seat an old friend I hadn’t seen for years popped in to my head. I thought nothing more of it other than how long it had been since I had seen her and with Woo now clamped in, quickly moved on to meet up with my lovely friend and her gorgeous children.
Much later in the day, after we had been to soft play, had lunch and had a good natter (and I had watched in awe at what a fantastic mummy she was keeping two children entertained, when I struggle with just 1) we happened to be sat by a large fountain letting the children watch in excitement as the water nearly reached the ceiling and having a bit of a breather. You know where I am going with this right? (You clearly have women’s intuition) and who should walk past?! The old friend I haven’t seen in years and thought of randomly earlier in the day! The sixth sense? I think so. But you tell me.
The spiritual world Vs. healing. It is a well-known fact my brother died in 2005. I will not go on to tell you how much I miss him as that much is obvious. We were quite close at points, as close as a brother and sister with 10 years between them and leading two different lives could be that is. We still had our fall outs but I have come to terms with that and this may sound like I am trying to soften the blow of losing my only brother, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder, and I can’t help but feel he is still around when I need him.
For example; not long after he died, one of his friends who shall remain nameless recommended I go and see a clairvoyant, which I did, having always been open to that sort of thing. I hoped it would bring me some peace and answer an important question that had been playing on my mind. I found this woman through another friend; suffice to say there is no way she could have known about my circumstances or my brother being dead.
I walked in and sat down and she began to tell me I was having troubles at work, which I was, but I was disappointed nothing had been picked up from Jason.
Not long afterwards she put the cards to one side and apologised to me. I asked her why and she explained, ‘your brother has just turned up and he says he is sorry he was late but was checking on his eldest daughter Phoebe.’ The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I burst out crying.
There is NO WAY she could have known. I continued to be absolutely flabbergasted by what she told me and the questions she answered on behalf of my brother over the next hour. She also asked me why he was repeatedly shooting me the V’s. I had to laugh, this had been our thing. She told me things he had seen me doing the night previous (I had painted my bedroom black) and told me he hated the new colour on my walls before asking me what he meant. Flab.er.gasted. and hugely comforted too.
When Addy was born, I really began to miss Jason, wishing Addy could have met his uncle, who would have adored him. I had been home a few days and after such a long labour was exhausted. It was 3 in the morning and I was struggling to breast feed while sitting on the sofa with Addy on my knee. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew Jason was stood in front of me and was screaming at me to wake up. I ignored him and tried to give him a cuddle but found I couldn’t move. It was then that I felt a sharp pain and a jolt in my left leg, ensuring I woke up in a panic. Heart hammering, my eyes shot open to find Addy was under me and had I not woken up he may have rolled off the couch or worse still been suffocated.
I whole heartedly believe my brother had kicked me awake from the other side. (Giving me a gentle prod just wasn’t his style.)
Once again you were looking out for me and I truly believe you have seen your nephew. Addison will smile and laugh at the wall, or in to thin air on occasion and although it may be that he is just a mentalist like his mummy, sometimes I like to think it is because he can see his uncle Jakey making him laugh. A tool used by the mind to help us overcome grief, or the spiritual world actually existing? I think the latter. But you tell me.
So to summarise, I guess sometimes I do believe, and at other times (like when doodle vomits on the play mat I have just washed) I don’t.
What about you?