LOVE

I would say that this is surely the most written and sung about subject in the entire existence of humanity. “Love”, such a short word that encompasses a plethora of emotions. All of which equate to, or are, the result of being in, feeling, receiving and giving love

LOVE – even has three meanings in the dictionary

1 – an intense feeling of deep affection.

2 – a great interest and pleasure in something.

3 – a person or thing that one loves.

The topic is huge, the breakdown of emotional and physical response of the word could take me weeks to discover each delicate strand that coils around to make the rope that curls around a heart. The heart, the organ that sustains life and is continuous in its persistence to keep us alive and to experience LOVE.

There is a wealth of love types, a love of a friend, dog, parents, partner, things, nature, life.

Yet I want to talk about the purest of love, the mothers love for a child. A love physically born from you. A love that shares your DNA, a love you carried inside for 9 long months, unbeknownst at that moment to be the most powerful love of all, a love you fed from your body. It is an untarnished, unquestionable love. I sadly do not have the super powered intelligence or breadth of vocabulary to explain it, but I will try.

When I look at my child it is like two warm soft hands are grasping my heart, crushing me so hard that the air from my lungs have been ripped away by a warm, persistent current. It’s like the sun caressing me on a slightly chilly day, illuminating each cell in my body and making them vibrate in harmony. When I look at my children’s faces, hold their hands, smell their hair, feel their soft cheek against mine as they whisper “mummy I love you” love pulsates out of me and covers them in a nurturing blanket. A blanket that will always wrap around them, ensuring they know I will always love them. It is infallible, unbreakable, a titanium tower of surety that I will always be there to care, with arms and heart wide open. I am theirs and no one else’s. Yes, I love Kieron my husband deeply, but that love can change with the day, the year, the person and circumstances, it is not necessarily forever, as much as I hope it will be.

But with a child, through life and death it is there, tangible, visible, like a light flickering across water, a shooting star in the sky, a firefly dancing through a forest, it lights up all the dark corners and glows. It illuminates kindness, dreams, hopes, emotions and needs. It is powerful, constant, suffocating, it consumes all who come within its radius and breathes life into you. Once you have inhaled that love, without it you will surely drown. I would die for that love, I would place myself in front of my child and take whatever life hurls at me, I am their shield, their knight, their champion. FOREVER.

A mother’s love is the strongest of all loves

Love Kelly, A Mother of Dragons.

Tis the most wonderful time…..

OF THE YEAR…. If I sing loud enough will this make it true? PLEASE MAKE IT TRUE…

Hummm Christmas. Sits as a conundrum in my mind. A time of magic, fairy lights, stories, family, a fat jolly man and fantasies.

I still see Christmas through my child eyes, I dreamed of Victorian London, Carol singers, Father Christmas appearing down a chimney, elves, reindeer, Rudolph and brightly colored presents piling under a tree, that was so beautiful it used to make my heart flutter with excitement.

Christmas could stop right there for me as a child, when the magic was still tangible, and I could smell excitement in the air. As soon as that first present was opened Christmas was dead, the magical bubble POPPED.

Then came Christmas as a mother! First up, ALL MOTHERS OUT THERE, I SEE YOU, I see the magic you weave, the unseen grind you commit to from Halloween to Christmas its a full time job of……. FUCKING doing EVERYTHING which no one fucking really sees.

DEEP BREATH here goes

Costume making, candy buying, present wrapping, cooking, cooking, cooking, cleaning, cleaning, laundry, laundry, cooking, navigating family tantrums, family feuds, kid hyperactivity, kid meltdown, kid fighting (my boys go from Lord of the Flies, to Kill Bill then finish up with the Hunger Games), present wrapping, travel, travel organizing, packing, school plays, school carnivals, school parades, activities, kids party x 20000..

Mothers drowning under expectation, suffocating in the false Joy you emit as you sweat holding the 2nd turkey of the year and bring it to the table, which NO ONE EATS. Lets not forget the cards you create, mail, trying not to forget the random uncle who lives in the Outer Hebrides. Next on top of family gifts we have, teachers gifts, breakfasts, thank you notes. The list is endless… I make lists for lists, it is all about survival by the third Thursday in November.

Now multiple all of the above by 3, I have 3 kids, this is three of everything. EVERYTHING !!!!

Mamas of multiples – I SEE YOU.

Coping strategies equate to, but are not limited to….

Running away / drinking / drinking / hiding in cupboards (oh drinking) / Valium and drinking / hiring help if rich / running away if poor / screaming /learning to box / Running away / sitting in the car (hiding) / doing puzzles in the cupboard / changing idendity.

I want to love Christmas, but I’m too tired to even try.

Hey, I’m not stupid! Says the mother…..

I was listening to a podcast today and they were discussing, how no one ever recognizes raising kids, or being a carer as a full time job. That it should be celebrated, appreciated and quantified in value. Yet, I am not writing this piece from the stand point of “hey look at how hard this job is”, or how much work I do, everyday, all day and night. As a parent you also do the night shift. Check me out – I am a warrior against bad dreams and bed wetting.

What I want to share is the silent shame that seems to be woven intrinsically into being a full time mum. At age 32 I became pregnant with my first child, at the time I was a project manager for a media company. I am also a 2:1 graduate with a Sports Science Degree, and have been a top 10% student for my whole schooling career. In the past I have been a fashion buyer for department stores and Levi’s Europe, an assistant Pastry Chef, blogger and recruiter.

BUT as soon as that wiggly single sperm fertilized that big ass mama egg, I became a “mother”. On a dime I decided to give up work, and work hard at being a mum. In that single moment all my education, and my entire career just faded away. From then on, all people would see, was a disheveled woman with kids!!! With snot on her shoulder and a small, dirty handprint on her thigh. All they can see is a bearer of screaming infants, and not the intelligent being that lays dormant beneath. I basically became a walking womb! A person who could not do both, who could not parent and hold down a paid job simultaneously. DO not get me wrong I tried to do both, but I crumbled, I was up working at 5 am and starting again at 9 pm and trying to parent in between. I could not do either job well, and I was failing miserably.

Today I cried when I heard that podcast, because, I do feel like life has kind of passed me by when it comes to work. I am a 44 year old mother of 3. Seriously no one wants me, when you read the numbers. When people cast their eyes in my direction and look me up and down, I want to scream, “PLEASE see me, I am smart, I have ideas, I can create and be creative, Hey hey hey I can still do mental arithmetic in my head, go on, go on, test me.

Yet, why? Why do I feel like I need to hang my head as I mumble, yes I am a full time mum, full time care giver. Is it my own internal shame of working failure, or did society create this. “Oh you don’t work”??? What you settled into the homemaker role, what a cop out. “Dumb bitch” !!! I am not going to sit here and list all the shit I do every day. The continuous work I do as a parent of three. I hold my hand up high, yes I took the role willingly, but that does not make me unintelligent, so why do I have this driving need to make sure people know I have a brain

I will admit at times I feel so unbelievably lost. A languishing amoeba floating in a sea of meal planning, bed making, wound cleaning and ferrying small humans around. Yes I am single cell creature fighting to be more. Yet life right now just doesn’t see me, I am an aging shadow that no longer has the time to be fleshed out.

What do I want to be when I grow up? I still want to be an architect, a painter, an antiques buyer, museum curator, a historian, a writer, a sneaker designer, a run shoe tester, a gallery curator, a merchandiser…….

I still have work dreams. However, as a sit up at 2 am cradling a small frightened child on my lap, stroking his hair and telling him mummy loves him, I do know I have the right job. I was made to be a boy mum, a strong mum, a fair mum, a loving mum, a mum who will always be there….. To pick you up, take you to the dentist, to hold your hand, to take you to the zoo, to rush you to hospital, to clean a bloody knee, to make you pancakes in the morning, to bring a forgotten lunch, to see your first steps, your first smile, to hear the words mama first, to have your warm arms around my neck and your face buried in my hair, just loving you. I was made to love you.

Yes, that may not tell the world my IQ, but that makes me amazing to them, to the little people I created. It grants me the time to watch them blossom and grow, forge their own path. AND that is why I gave up work, I gave up so I could be everything to my children. AND I must stop feeling guilty about that.

That is who I am and will always be, a mama, a mother, a mum, their mom, mummy…

Love ME

Dreaming to the Edge.

I was in an expansive mood as my feet hit the path and I started my run this morning. Where I run, it is very beautiful and the path stretches out, twisting, undulating into the canyon with its thicket of trees and cascade of rocks. At this precise moment the sun was grazing the horizon, a red wash was tinting the clouds and illuminating the path.

The path, it was the path. Follow the path.

I had dreams as a child of going to the moon, becoming a brain surgeon, running in the Olympics and being an explorer. As a young adult, I was a travel writer, a famous fashion model an international fabric buyer. I dreamed big, I speculated and formulated with abandon, there was no reason why not and there were absolutely no boundaries. Today, I am still a whimsical, go big or go home fantasizer. I am a fairy dreamer, a dance in the moonlight dreamer, a stand on a mountain with my arms spread wide romantic. I truly daydream hard on a daily basis, it is my favorite thing to do.

But, that path. Follow the path.

As a child my path was long, narrow and winding. As a young adult, I became lost on my path and decided to wander, choosing to experience and feel new things. As a semi grown up it gained many mountains to climb. Now, as I languish in middle age, my path has suddenly become short. Over the next horizon I can sense the end is there and in a few more years I will see the very place, where my essence, dreams and wishes will cascade off. Tumbling into the energy filled ether of nothingness. Crashing into a land I cannot quite see, but can always feel its presence.

My dreams loom ominously and they now have less time to become real. I know many of my “what I believe I am here for” beliefs or my “what I came to accomplish” ideas, will fizzle away. Lost to the air, when in the not so distance future I will close my eyes and they will stay sealed together, under a star filled sky, never to reopen. It was in a moment, mid stride, sighed out with each exhaled breath, that I knew I must keep striving for the magic, reaching for those carbon filled sparkles in the night sky. Because, just like my dreams those stars even though now dead in their universe, still light mine. My dreams will not die, they will shine to the next small child, who reaches up, curls their small fingers around my desires of the phantasmagorical and believes that dreams can come true.

Go little one, go and do great things. Follow your path and become the star light you were created to be. Now shine and shine brighter than I.

Love K. K Dreamer Joy

The Cotton Debate

I have not written in a while, I have been busy loving our new life in Boulder, CO. Running trails, dragging the kids up mountains and just staring in wonder at the majestic scene that unfolds around me.

However, I have been silently watching as our 2nd COVID wave or is it still the first, surge through this country and push us all back into our boxes. Mainly, because people are essentially selfish, by the way I do include myself in this, I am no Mary Poppins, although I wish I were. Yes, I have certainly experienced COVID blues and went all gung ho on it and wanted to scream “fuck it”, whip off my mask and burn it in the street, standing naked with freedom written across my tiny breasts, hum I may just have to use my forehead as any part of my body is bigger than my puny chest area. But, of course I did not, as I am a wimp and I certainly did not want to stand in a public street naked. But, mainly it is because I believe in the virus, I believe in science, I believe that the teeny tiny piece of cloth over my mouth and nose, if worn correctly, will keep me safer, people safe and enable us to get this silent virus (unless you’re coughing REALLY loudly) under control. Which means eventually, life will go back to some form of normalcy. Maybe?!

However, people have got their “its my right”, knicker’s in a twist. I have heard, read, watched the rants. As fully grown, usually sane humans throw all their fucking toys out of their pram and stamp their feet, just because a government official has made it mandatory to place a piece of cloth on your mouth and nose. Firstly it would actually muffle your screams and moans about your “rights”. Man I want to swear so much right now, as this is making me beyond angry at how this has become such an issue. Hey, yes wearing a mask isn’t fun, but neither is wearing 6 inch heels (I still do that) or going to the dentist or cleaning up your dogs shit, but we do it, because it is the correct thing to do.

There you are, all messed up because a store or restaurant has asked you to wear a mask to …..

  1. keep their staff safe, who are working to serve YOU
  2. keep other public members safe who also need to shop/eat
  3. keep you safe.

But, some crazy human beings are losing their goddamn minds over this and it is ALL about their fucking rights!!! Hey you’ll have no rights when you may just die of the virus – roughly in America, you have a 4% chance.

Do you lose your shit and mental faculties when you are told to wear your shirt and shoes in a store/restaurant? Um no and that is a way larger piece of cotton. Do you puff up and go red and bang on about your rights, UM NO. There would not be these mandates if human beings were actually cool and put these suckers on, but they do not and we are having surges. So if people cannot do the decent thing, well in come the rules and the fines. You brought it on to your self. Do not want to wear the innocuous piece of fabric, well then, just stay the fuck home and relish in your rights, don’t get angry or dickish about it, read the science, talk to doctors, speak to people who have had the virus. I am sure they do not care about your rights while they are trying to breathe in intensive care.

It astounds me at how up in arms people are about this, I am perplexed, I seriously do not think “big brother is watching me” when I wear my mask. First up they would have a job to recognize who the hell I am, with my mask on.

Your mask is a :-

  1. double chin godsend
  2. spot hider
  3. halitosis saver
  4. coffee breath extinguisher
  5. burp holder
  6. dumb comment muffler
  7. chin warmer
  8. UV protector
  9. eye mask
  10. head band
  11. emergency panty liner
  12. funky wrist band
  13. back up oven glove
  14. shit the list is endless and to be honest I’m glad some people have to cover their faces, I just wish Trump would do it more often. .

Lovely people, many whom I love, please, be kind, suck up and cover that goddamn mouth. If you cannot, please stay home and rant on Facebook about how terrible life is, because at least then no one will get hurt.

I love you by the way in your mask anger.

Love Kelly “The Mask” Joy

Crystal

And not of the meth variety…. Although maybe in my 90s I may give it a go for shits and giggles, going to die anyhow.

Crystal is actually the symbol of our 15th anniversary, chink, chink, I need some new wine glasses, as I am notoriously, well ridiculously clumsy. Modern day is a watch, so I am secretly gunning for a man’s vintage Rolex to appear on my wrist, but apparently I have spent that money on a running machine and that has a clock on it, which I can use – oh well, always worth a shot.

May 21st, 2005, dressed in a deep pink, short, 20’s inspired dress, I said “I do” in the Chelsea Old town hall on the Kings road, yes the same place Mick Jagger got married to Bianca. The man who crazily wanted to put a ring on my large knuckled fingers was Kieron Joy.

To this day he truly amazes me, first up, the fact he took the brave step to take me on. On our fourth date I think it was, I sat down across from him in a pub in Balham, London, UK and said, “Well you need to know, I am anorexic, I have anxiety, I take Prozac and have been told I probably cannot have children because of my eating disorder, so you can run away now.” He sat there and stayed, he looked at me and said, “I think I love you even more, and if we cannot have children we can have awesome ski holidays”. Gulp, I totally thought he would make for the hills, giving me the double fingered salute and a “See ya, you crazy bitch.”

No, Kieron Joy sat very still, took a sip of his beer and stayed.

Why? I still ask that often, I am not always a steady ship and my path is like the ocean, calm some days and stormy the next, but I am honest, care with all my heart and love so hard it hurts. So when I say I love you, I mean it and it is unwavering. But he stays and is truly the steadfast, mighty mountain to my flighty bird.

Fifteen years and we are crystal, it truly reflects us as over the years, we are transparent to each other, no muddy waters. Yes we argue, fight, disagree, but we laugh hard and often. We listen, we love to be outside and sit in silence, to take on new exploits we may not complete, we champion each other and it was truly only the other day I realized why I love Kieron so much. First up let me say that we are quite traditional, I keep the home (quite poorly), I do the kids day to day stuff, I do the cooking (Kieron is not the best, although the damn kids, told me daddies scrambled eggs are better than mine – ass holes), but I have never had to mow the lawn or power wash the house – thank fuck for that, absolutely no desire, to do that stuff. But, I will heavy lift and drive across a country to get an adventure. No I truly realised when I loved Kieron, on 2 separate occasions it hit me in such a grateful and warm way, it made me feel wanted, loved and at peace.

1) When without me asking, he gently lifted me into the bath when I was really unwell and proceeded to wash my hair, rinse and comb it and put me back to bed.

2) When, as we moved on out of Naples, he in that huge truck carrying all our worldly possessions from 10 years and pulling a trailer with his car I have never loved him more, for his capacity to do this shit and reverse that monstrosity and not be phased one iota. SWOON. MY hero ๐Ÿ™‚

But, what is it about Kieron and I that has kept us together and not pushed us apart, humor, we both possess a shit one. He is hardworking, honest, a doer, kind, nothing is ever too much for anyone if you need his help, he is generous, he loves a challenge and makes me push my boundaries to realize I can be who I want to be, not what people think I should be. He loves me unconditionally when I am melting down, and life gets too much, he understands my need for space, that I can be a prickly hedgehog (yes I am called the hedgehog), that my past can cloud my present and just like that day in the pub in Balham, he stays, he waits, he loves me for being me.

Crystal, clear, cut glass – we are clear to each other, cut from the same cloth and yes I am good at smashing glass. These 15 years have brought so much, three wild boys, a move to a new country, new jobs, new adventures, some pain, some challenge, but even with our busy lives and demanding kids, we can still see each other. The best advice I was ever given was by my nan, who sadly died before Arthur was born, she said “remember your husband came before the children and when the kids leave, your husband will still be there, so see him, put him first always”. I still rememeber that today and check myself to put Kieron first AND without him and my bodies amazing ability to reproduce after all the years of starvation I subjected it to, we managed to have three astounding wildlings.

Therefore, I dedicate this post to Kieron (he is not a vomit your life on social media like I am), who loves me for all I am, men came before and could not take up the Kelly challenge, or want to just wait for me to be me and accept me. He did, with his huge smile, brown eyes and kindness he let me be. He allowed me to let him in, with no force, he just patiently waited and listened and he will even dance with me.

15 years , WTF, May 21st, sadly he is travelling, he works hard, or may just be hunting for my Rolex ๐Ÿ™‚ but we will not be together, but that is ok, a day a relationship does not make, but a card is nice, ohhh, I love a soppy card. Kieron , this is for you, know that I see you, I love you with all I am, I appreciate all you do for our family, how hard you work to create the life we now have and enjoy. You may not be a flower guy, but man you buy me gorgeous hand bags. Superficial me? Nooooooo ๐Ÿ™‚

Now about that Rolex?

Love Kelly (Crystal) Joy

The lost HUG!

Today, I dedicate these heartfelt words to the elusive hug. Oh where for art thou sweet hug? Unbeknownst to me, you have been ripped from my bosom, tossed away and fed to the COVID lions, all 19 of them. As they roam our fertile, overpopulated earth, feeding off our vulnerabilities, locking us up in our homes to stare at four stark walls, listless, lifeless and hugless.

SO hugless. I am not a talkative soul, I communicate through written word or with my physical being. I can still write, so here I am writing – SURPRISE, but I have not touched another person (my husband and 3 squirmy boys, are not included here) for 5 whole weeks. No hug, no hand shake, no kiss on the cheek, nothing! Just 6 feet of heart wrenching emptiness, yawning like a chasm, petrifying and unobtainable. I never knew how much I needed that type of connectivity, that feeling of closeness. Now please do not get me wrong, I do not go around bear squishing everyone I meet, but the people I care for, share time with, who open up to me, share moments with me, I want to express my delight with them. My deep soul love for them and there is absolutely nothing sexual about this at all. It is all about occupying, unifying a space and handing them my trust and devotion to our friendship, in a neat, hug sized package.

OH that delicious hug, the feeling of my cheek on your shoulder, the heat against my skin, the complete safety of being enveloped, for a brief tiny moment into the safety of another. Heart beats tick tocking in unison, thrumming tunefully together. A glimmer of a soul can shoot through and then be lost as you pull apart, in the unspoken knowledge that you have both shared something deeper than a spoken word.

I count down the days until I can share freedom with another human being. Supping coffee, running together, sitting close and chatting, hugging, tight squeezes, brief grapples, a peck on the cheek and head on a shoulder, just being close to a person you want inside your 6ft bubble.

I miss you dear hug, please come home soon.

Love a very sad K K Joy

Summer, break every part of me.

Let me start with a very honest caveat to this article. I Kelly Krystina love my children with every fiber in my body. Yet, that does not mean I always like them. Truth.

As Philip Larkin rightly said :-

โ€œThey fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.”

So clearly there is no hope that I will actually create a better, kinder version of myself. I may as well stop beating myself up, when my kid farts at the dinner table and laughs and I crack up in hysterics internally under my stern facade and, ” please do not be so rude, young man”.

I was not born to be a mother, it is not my forte or natural talent. Yes, I work damn hard at being the best version of a mother I can be, but no I am not the “chosen” one, it was never on my list of career paths. Fashion Buyer, yes, Travel Writer, yes, Architect, yes, Mother – um nope. My forte of dreams are international travel, coffee drinking, running and people watching. For example, right now I would particularly like to spend 3 days in the snow tipped mountains of Colorado, trail running every day, interspersed with fine wine drinking in exclusive vineyards and floating in natural pools totally alone.

As a family we bob alone on the sea that is school, work and after school activities and then out of no where along comes summer break. Fist pump, yes, no schedules, no early mornings, no packing lunches… WHOOP, here we come fun adventures and vacations to strange places. I dream of idling on the beach watching my beautiful boys build elaborate sandcastles and splashing in the sea.

UM NO F ING way, are you delusional? BOOM, lets start with ocean water drownings, sand rammed into eyes and rugby tackling into the surf is what I contend with, snacks dropped in to the water, (clearly all my fault as I am now their resident snack bitch). Heart broken tears when they do not get the (insert beach toy description or brightly coloured confectionery snack here). Therefore, summer has me like – shit I have birthed three, mini, ungrateful ass holes. At least one of them is my mini me GULP. Summer is grinding me down to the point, where I don’t want to parent the crying, the fights (I am really a referee and not a parent) the eternal eye rolling, continue with the constant food prep, the tidying, the keeping them entertained, safe, off electronics. I do, just want to close my eyes for a few seconds, hopefully no one will die and wish for a small moment that they may disappear for an hour or two and I can lie down with a book or take a pee and not have to break mid stream, pull up my knickers and bolt towards the blood curdling scream emitting from a child being pummeled by his sibling or the fact he cannot find (insert random toy here). I mean WTF – you mean that broken plastic toy you have not touched for months.

I don’t want to deal with their ass holeness, when I need to work on my inner ass hole and man she looms large some days, Yes I have walked silently behind my wonderfulย  small child flicking the double V sign and no it is not for peace, maybe peace out, as he berates me, with his smart talking mouth of how unfair I am and life is, that he cannot have a play date this second with his friend I have never met, let alone the parents. I just do not have the capacity to deal with a double dosage of the ass… At that point it is all about survival until 7.30pm and I can put them to bed. Or myself ๐Ÿ™‚

Older people say let them get bored oh and I do, but unless my three boys are given a constructive physical activity, they will just run wild around the house like Genghis Khan heading into battle or they wrestle over every item of furniture they can find, imagine the noise and destruction, please imagine that. Mind Blown BOOM. Each day is a re enactment of “Lord of the Flies” and each day I wonder so who will be Piggie today?Occasionally, they play quietly, but they are boys they need to move and letting them run out and play in the streets on the afternoon of a 95F Florida summers day, well that lasts all of 5 minutes and they can only be in the pool for so long before someone attempts a back flip in the shallow end. NOT COOL – I scream in horror as I pour myself a large drink and turn on another kid friendly movie. PEACE.

Yes I agree Summer, is fun and truly it is, but oh its distressingly hard, to the point where I cannot decide if I love or dislike those hot summer days of supposed freedom and carefree fun?

I’ll let you know once these 10 weeks are up, probably from a padded cell in the local mental asylum. ๐Ÿ™‚

Flu, have an opinion?

With the current flu pandemic effecting most states, the topic of vaccinations and children, once again raises its head.

Whether you do or do not, get a trained medical professional to stick a needle into your kids arm or thigh and administer a clear (potentially life saving) liquid into your child’s tiny little body, that is your right to do so.ย  I have many friends who do not vaccinate and I have many friends who do.

It’s such a personal choice and we may not agree on each others choices, but its ours, we have to remember that. I vaccinate, my personal belief that, way over the idea of metals being placed in my kids bodies and the potential side effects, I would rather that, than them, getting flu or polio or some other eradicated, previously life threatening disease. You can tell me I am dumb or pour out some spiel from some study, by some person. But I will never not vaccinate, like I could never convince someone to vaccinate who has chosen not to. The fallacy or reality (as remember it has not ever been really proven) that they can cause autism is a chance I will (repeatedly) take if it saves my kids life and the life of a sick child or a child too young to be vaccinated. My eldest, which is common knowledge, has high functioning Autism. Was it his shots at birth that caused this, who the hell knows? Is it genetic, or the way he was born, we will never know? But, I feel he has a far better chance to best the odds if he ever gets sick, which currently he has not. He is brilliant and healthy.

The thing is I will vaccinate and take the supposed risks, as I believe there are far worse threats to my kids life, food dyes in food (banned in Europe) as its proven they cause hyperactivity and cancer. I will never ever let my kids drink a Gatorade, Froot loops, MnM’s – again my choice, my belief, my opinion, good or bad. My kids will always wear a bike helmet when they cycle, I avoid hard candy (coloring’s and choking threats) and the list continues.

We all do what is best for our children and we may never agree, but we must respect, I will always love a person for their hearts and kindness. You may believe in God, I believe in science. You may like Trump, I do not. You believe in the right to own a gun, I never will. I love you and and I may never agree with you, but I value your ideas and thoughts. As long as you are not a racist, chauvinist, a bigot or narcissist, I will always sit and wait for your side, your thought out idea and the argument for or against. I hope people can always do this and not be blinkered to shut down and push out friends for having opposing beliefs. It makes us unique. Listening, not accusing or shouting creates community and understanding, respect and kindness. I will always like/love a friend if they just have the ability to listen and not bombard, accuse or demean a thought or another person.

We all do our best by our children and our fear and love for them is what drives us to keep them happy, loved, well and safe. For me that is one thing and that includes a shot to the arm every year from Flu, to you that is not, to me that is science at its best, to you that is a money making machine. We will always beg to differ.