From Brilliant to Shit. 

I’ve had a brilliant day. I’ve taken the boy bear out to a friend’s house, had my favourite meal cooked for me – paella, followed by cheesecake, yum, and had a good old natter. 

I got home, fed the bear, had some fun with my partner, laughing, joking, flirting in the kitchen. 

Fun. Happy. Relaxed. Calm. 

Bear goes to bed, bear is learning to cry it out. Bear is just standing, silently, glancing at the camera, which, with night vision makes him look like something from a horror film. Partner and I watch this, we laugh, we enjoy. 

Context is set – we’ve been having fun all evening, laughing, joking teasing. 

So this is where it turns, and why I hear you ask? Because he turns on his game. 

I go in to tell him something and I clock he’s taken one of my Coke Zeros. I DO NOT BEGRUDGE HIM A COKE ZERO. However  it has been standard for me to mock rage and threaten death, so I lean to get it, take it and mock rage ensues… but my leaning over causes him to die on his game so fuck me… it’s like he literally died in real life. 
I put the can down and he kicks it off the couch saying I can have it, I explain the joke, he doesn’t want to get it. 

So I lose it.

I smack the wall with my hand. 

The baby begins to cry. 

Fuck you life partner. 

Why does this game change your whole personality? How am I supposed to know when to stop joking? Stop having fun with my best friend? 

Fuck you. You’re a dick when that game is on. Fuck you and now I’ll daydream that that fucking game console somehow trips and falls right out of the god damn window. 

Now my hand hurts, my heart hurts and we’re not speaking. From brilliant to shit in 2 seconds flat. I should write a fucking book. 

Angry mum out. 

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Big and Strong huh?! 

This post touches upon a previous post about back seat drivers, in particular my partner. 

Suprise suprise, we’re back on him. 

Sooooo… He’s finally had his ‘morally in the right’ crash… and the kicker: I and my 6 month old child were there to witness it. 

Oh and the 93 year old woman he hit. 

On a roundabout she pulled out, it happened very slowly, in the sense if it had been a younger driver they’d have nipped out and beat us, partner would have beeped, sworn and moaned about the incident but we would have been safe, home and NOT dealing with the ambulance, police and miles of traffic we created. 

Upon reflection he couldn’t have avioded it, if he’d broken sharply someone would have gone into the back of us, if he’d swerved he would have hit a car and then it would have definitely been our fault. He had to take the hit, he had to plow into the 93 year old’s driver’s seat door, also the side my son was in… he was asleep and stayed asleep and thankfully was none the wiser. 

This is ‘upon reflection’. In my head though straight after, all I could think, and bring to mind was his idea of a ‘moral accident.’ 

And my anger kicked in, but because of the situation I had to control it, had to, and I did. I swore once, very quietly to him… but as I said, very quietly, he may not have heard it. Then I removed myself from the situation and therefore the anger, I had to look after the little man and get picked up by my dad, away from my partner. 

And my anger subsided, my rationality was restored and I was able to accept he had to take the hit, even though his world was in the car because any other alternative would have been a lot worse…. he was shook up he said because of the little bear in the car and for him to even admit that is, for want of better words, fucking crazy.

So, what an I taking from this? 

Walk away. Think. Come back… 

Calm.

Silver Linings. 

This is a love letter to my hound. Silver… get the title now. I am hilarious and so very clever. 

My anger is taken out on three ‘people’ in my life: my mother, my partner and my dog. And I’m going to take my time and just think of all the positives that my hound brings to my life and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll begin to love him more than my anger makes me hate him in those heat of the moment, angry pits of hell, fire and brimstone I fall into. 

Origins of Silver:

He was bought as we were burgarled, I was in the house and my partner was offshore and felt the distinct helplessness a man gets when something happens to someone he loves and he wasn’t there. Silver was bought for £50 from Gumtree in Yorkshire, we’re pretty sure he’s a staffy rotty cross. 

Playing with fire you might say… 

And I look back and cringe but god help me if it wasn’t the best £50 we’ve spent. He is the best dog. Like seriously. 

So let my positivity in the form of a list commence! 

  1. My dog is handsome, he’s 39kgs of pure muscle and leaness. He’s eyes truly are the windows to the soul. He has won awards. This is not just my opinion. He’s won Most Handsome Dog and Reserve Best in Show… in Telford… okay, in a small village off Telford…. in a very small local dog show… but still, it’s not just me. And to be fair that dog gets more compliments than my very cute (okay, that is all my opinion, and every chuffer on facebook, and my mum’s) 6 month old son, walking down the street. If he understood, he would have a big head. Fact. 
  2. He was bought for protection and he looks and sounds the part. Many a time I’ve opened the door to a delivery man who is now standing on the other side of the gate after hearing the dog bark and launch himself at the door, vibrating the whole house but serving his purpose and protecting his family. 
  3. He is so much more than protection, he is part of our family. He completes my partner’s perfect picture of family life, although that perfect picture surely cannot include the sea of hairs I sweep up every day, every day, every day, every day… no!! Positivity only! Hairs are hairs and once my boy is old enough that’ll be one of his special chores… 
  4. He has the most amazing temperament, he has the patience of a saint with my niece, who is eight, he performs all his ‘tricks’ for her, although I rue the day she taught him ‘paw’! He lies with her acting as a pillow while she watches TV, a true indication of the relationship my son and his best friend, Silver will have. 
  5. I can already see the boy and Silver’s relationship forming. Silver has finally begun to relax around the child and while he does spend a large part of his day trying to lick him to death, they make a really cute duo. The boy gets super duper excited whenever he sees Silver, he chases him in his walker, grabbing fur, ears and collar and Silver sits patiently, wanting nothing but to lick this little boy. Dinner time is The Best!!! I’m shouting at Silver for licking the boy’s hands and waiting for a morsel of food to drop and the boy, staring me straight in the eye, reaches out his hand, full of rusk, to feed the bloody dog! And Silver softly and gently with his mammoth jaws takes the food, not daring to look me in the eye! He knows better! But 6 months old and my son is challenging me and favouring the hound!!!! Oh how they shall be the best of friends. 
  6. Silver goes on runs with me, and sometimes when he thinks I’m in need of an extra effort (and this usually coincides with another dog going past) he stops dead and refuses to move!! Think of my extra work out!! Lifting and pulling a 39kg dog!! What a considerate pooch he is!! 
  7. In a time where life sucked for me, I’d been burgarled while I was in the house asleep, my partner was constantly away on rigs, I had Silver curled up beside me; my protector, my company, my dog. 

Silver, you are family and I’ll try really hard to remember, no matter what you do to fucking piss me off!!!