rain at 2pm

Rain drops falling from the sky, making puddles outside and damp patches inside (gonna get that fixed soon...) If my hair wasn't already a complete state I'd be peed about that too. A messy top knot is my hair do of choice, well, necessity, these days. My roots are a crime scene. 

After yesterday's post about our summer bag today has blown a big raspberry at me by being all about the torrential rain. But days indoors are lovely too. The radio is on, the kettle's constantly on the boil and a sleepy post 8 week jab Griff is stretched out on my lap. 

It's clear I won't get much done today but I'm happy to let it slide. Sitting here with the baby, taking iPhone pictures and blogging with one hand, I'm happy even though it's hammering down out there. 

Hope you guys can keep smiling even when the skies are grey and heavy with rain. 
X 

big sister

One of the most wonderful things for me about having a second child has been seeing my first child fall instantly in love with the new addition. 

I saw her love for him in her eyes the minute she walked into the hospital ward on April 15 holding hands with her daddy. I see it now everyday as she wanders, runs, hops or scoots past and stops to plants a kiss on his little head. 

She has suddenly become the eldest child, a big sister proud to help out, eager to look after *her* baby. 

And if she's happy then I'm happy. 

The first couple of weeks she was bursting with excitement, excitement that sometimes bubbled over into an outburst of emotion. I'd look up at her whilst nursing the baby to see a little tear roll down her cheek.

'What's wrong sweetheart?' I'd ask.

'I feel sad and I don't know why' she'd answer. 

But those moments were few and far between and the vast majority of time has been spent giving kisses and cwtches and being a generally outstanding big sister. 

Griff is so lucky to have a sister like Edie, another heart full of love for him. 

I'm so looking forward to watching them grow up together.
X

post

There have been times in my life when I've felt the urge to pick up a pen and a notebook and fill page upon page with rambling words. As a teenager, as a student, as a new mum. 

Then there have been long stretches of time when I've only written with a keyboard and I swear my fingers have almost forgotten the mechanical function necessary for handwriting. You know that feeling? When you pick up a pen to write something other than your signature and the process of writing down words feels so awkward. 

But I am a writer, not in the professional sense at the moment but in the sense that I have a lot of words inside me that need to be written down. After my art degree I studied for a masters degree in Writing- Practice and Issues and worked as a freelance writer in London for several years after. Now my blog and my notebooks hold all my words. That's one reason I love blogging, so I can write stuff down.

When I heard about Miss Beatrix's postcircle I decided to join in. Writing letters is something it's fashionable to say you love, but it's something we hardly ever do. 

It's funny how intimate writing a letter can be, especially to someone you've never met. It's like opening yourself up to someone, becoming a little bit vulnerable. It doesn't feel like that here on this blog. It feels like I'm writing to friends, and to myself. 

But it felt good to write an actual letter to someone. Maybe I should write to some of the lovely people I've met through this blog. People I feel like I 'know' though I've never met. People who I have lots in common with. 

Maybe I will. Would that be weird? 

time is slippery

Right now time is slipping away from me at such a rate of knots that the days in a week can disappear before I can even register that the previous week is over. I'm constantly playing catch up. The classes I run are coming to an end very soon and I'm trying to pack in as much work as I can so that things are organised for me to go on maternity leave. I'm also trying to make the most of every available minute to focus on my art work and writing. But life keeps getting in the way of me being able to focus on anything as much as I'd like. I've got appointments coming out of my ears, work to be done on the house and even just a couple of simple but necessary tasks seem to be able to eat up a whole day. 

So I've stolen just this few minutes to sit and write these few words. Because I want to commit to writing on this blog as much as I can, because I find it propels me into getting other stuff done. It makes me focus on my minutes, hours and days and plan them more creatively, so that stuff happens.

Do you know what I mean? 

And now I look ahead to the rest of this week and realise that again I have no spare time. Or at least not enough. 

But that's how it is sometimes and in all honesty that's often how I like it. Stolen moments are where I'll have to find the time to write here. Before work, before bed, here there and in between.

Until I have this baby and then I'll have all the time in the world to write and draw and dream.

Not. 

Ah well, it can be done, as so many of you out there prove to me over and over each and every day. Isn't it amazing what you can achieve even when you have no time to achieve it?

X

seven weeks

Time has the habit of tricking you into thinking you have lots of it when in fact it's speeding by at a rate of knots. I've just seven weeks left until my due date. To me, the eternal dawdler, that still seems like ages, but there's a little voice in my head telling me that that seven weeks will fly by, which of course it will. 

Seven weeks of no baby to nurse.

Seven weeks of no nappies to change.

Seven weeks of relative peace at night.

Seven weeks of being able to take the escalator in department stores.

Seven weeks of having time alone.

Seven weeks of having space to think.

Seven weeks of no tiny toes and fingers.

Seven weeks until the most miraculous thing happens and another human being joins us here on this planet to enjoy this life with us. 

Seven weeks until I fall in love again. 

Seven short weeks. 

That's all.

maybe

My first experience of being a mummy was the most life changing, head spinning, soul soaring, sanity wrecking event that's ever befallen me. From the minute I felt my little girl making her way out of me and into the big wide world I changed, my life changed and the world around me changed. In fact, it changed days before I gave birth to her but then that's hormones for you.

I'm facing that same adventure again this April. I hope that I can keep a steady hand on my head, hormones and emotions this time but only time will tell. 

When I was pregnant with Edie I thought a lot about how it would be to have a baby. I had no idea. This time I know about the joy, the frustration, the boundless love and the sheer boredom of it but I don't think of it at all. Even though I'm over the moon to be expecting again I just take each day as it comes and I don't think about the future, post April. Maybe that's the wrong thing to do. Maybe I should be day dreaming about tiny toes and walks in the park. Maybe I should be preparing myself for my hair falling out and my boobs turning into milk squirting burning boulders. Maybe I should take some time to sit and write through all the good things and the not so good. 

Maybe I should. 

the future and the past

I have this little life growing inside me and right now I feel so happy and positive for the future. But I also know that things aren't gonna be easy when this little fella joins us. I know it's tough being a mum, I remember how my whole world was turned upside down three and a half years ago after the birth of my girl. I remember how I was swept away in a whoosh of emotions that were certainly not all good ones. Not good ones at all.

But I also remember the wonder, the beauty, the love of a new child. And I remember how it is to fall in love with your child, straight away for me, yes, but also slowly, building as you get to know your child, and you're knocked for six by how freaking awesome they are.

       

      

       

       

       

        

More awesome than I could ever have hoped.

After all, nothing good comes easy. 

Here's to doing it all over again...x

sweet dreams...

'sweet dreams' by goldlion

floral wreath original britthermann $150.00	Fairisle Knitted Blanke... rcadesign $70.00	Woodland photography gr... bomobob $30.00	FALL SALE vintage 1930s... Luncheonettevi... $12.80
Decorative Pillow -Herc... ColetteBream $89.00	Crocheted Lace Stone, B... Monicaj $35.00	hand knit womens wool s... sockysocks $19.00	Linen bed cover extra-w... LinenCrafts $185.00
Apple shaped cushion/so... studiomeez $42.00	bell jar beccastadtland... $24.00	Vintage Crochet Bedspre... ethanollie $150.00	Wooden Wick Candles tha... BluebellsbyNic... $12.99
Vintage doily upcycled ... ChevronBloomSt... $22.99	His and Hers Cat Nap Pi... Xenotees $30.00	Original modern geometr... NATHANIELGIBSO... $300.00	Block Printed Leaf Quil... hinshelwooddeb... $99.00

Treasury tool supported by the dog house

One of the many, many, many things I took for granted pre-baby, back when I was a care-free, flipperty gibbet of a fool, is a good night's sleep. Eight long blissful hours of uninterrupted sleep... back then that was a functional necessity, now it's the freaking holy grail. 

I go to sleep, I wake up, I pee. 

I go back to sleep, I wake up, I tell my daughter that yes, she can have that phantom cake (she's a food related nightmare sufferer), I get into her Ikea child's bed with my feet poking through the metal bars at the bottom and I go back to sleep. 

I wake up with every bone in my body aching and my feet freezing, I go back into our room where our bed feels like heaven and I go back to sleep. 

I wake up, I pee... and repeat until morning.

How long can this go on for? I suspect that when Edie (and the next one) are sleeping through the night I'll be onto the menopause, or incontinence, or some such sleep wrecking thing and so I fear the golden years of sweet, delicious, uninterupted sleep are gone. And I need my shut eye, I mean I really need it. Baaaaaaad. 

But what can I do? Besides hiring a nanny for the next five years and hooking myself up to a catheter for the next five months bugger all. But that's ok, just like you accept that you'll spend more on your child's shoes than your whole wardrope you just get on with it. 

And so if I can't a good night's sleep I've decided I at least deserve a pretty/comfy/cosy one.

And so here are my Etsy picks for a beautiful bedroom, if not a beautiful night's sleep.

I just don't read that stuff anymore

Oh Comely- one of the good guys

I'm a magazine fiend. I love the promise of their glossy covers. I love the smell.

But there are magazines that I don't and won't buy. Those icky, depressing, gleefully nasty mags that put pictures of women with their cellulite surrounded by a big red circle on their covers. The ones that are full of rubbish and nonsense and bitchiness. I'm not saying I've never bought them, because I have, but not for a long time, and now I have a little girl? Hopefully never again.

Those magazines celebrate nothing that is wonderful about womenkind. They glorify the vacuous, the insecure and the image-obsessed scrutinising that holds us all back.  

I really couldn't give a flying fuck about whose armpits have sweated this week, or who has wrinkly knees. Too fat one week, too thin the next; god knows what this kind of crap is doing to today's young girls' self-perception and body image. 

I think reading these magazines is like eating a bowl full of sugar with a desert spoon. It might give you an initial buzz but keep doing it and it can really mess you up on the inside.

Oh Comely issue seven- words Beth Davis, pattern Alyssa Nassner

But there are some wonderful mags out there right now. I'm sure most of you British blogging ladies have read Oh Comely, an inspirational magazine that features people just like you and me, and for all the right reasons, not the wrong ones. This magazine does not stuck you dry of your self-esteem and life force, it reinforces them. It sparks off ideas and rouses your curiosity and encourages you to make plans for things you'd like to do and places you'd like to see. 

Oh Comely issue eleven- Courtney Welch, co-founder of London Rollergirls
words Carleen Peters,  portrait Trent McMinn

This, and a few others, are the magazines that I feel happy to have lying around my home whilst my girl is growing up. Maybe you think differently and see the tacky mags as being just a bit of harmless fun, but as I get older the less I want and need their influence in my life.

Oh Comely issue eleven- imaginary map by illustrator Marisa Seguin

Any thoughts? 

drowning in happy tears

Some people are able to control their emotions. How do they do that? Maybe they just don't feel it like us roller-coaster riders or maybe inside they're a mass of swirling feeling. 


These last few days I've erupted into (joyful) tears on numerous occasions. It's the Olympics you see, they're making me an emotional wreck. 


And most of us are the same aren't we? Whether it's the theatre, music, sport or a reality TV show involving a troupe of dancing transvestites we're all sometimes caught out surreptitiously dabbing at the corners of our eyes. Even the biggest and hairiest hard-knocks out there are vulnerable to a little sniff sometimes. 


And they're a luxury, these tears. A sign that we're living a life where we're lucky enough to see awesome things- an opera, a rock concert, a beautiful landscape, a dream-come-true for some athlete who has sacrificed so much to achieve their goal.


There are enough reasons to cry sad tears in this world. I'm going to indulge myself in as many of the happy kind as I can for the next week or so. 


*Sob*.