waiting for daddy - homemade meatball sub - new toy
comfort food - another new toy - stolen notebook
wilson helps with bricklaying - friday night done right - a little mummy partridge
I wasn't going to do a Friday Round Up today to be honest, because my week has been pretty run of the mill, but I just read this blog post by Becca and I thought 'what the hell?' I didn't start this blog because I thought I had a really interesting life to write about so why should being boring stop me now?
Sometimes it's hard to know what to write about, I often find myself wanting to blog but not knowing what to actually write, so I tend to wait until I have an actual subject to base a post on. But when I read other people's blogs, my favourite posts are the ones which give you a little peek into their day to day lives and how they live ... they don't have to portray a perfect life, let's face it, none of us have a perfect life. It's easy to fall in to the trap of trying to censor what you write to present a more 'perfect' or 'blogworthy' life and even easier to try to make each photo as appealing as possible, but that's not real. Life is not perfect. And people don't want to read about perfect anyway. Well I don't, I want to read about real
So here's a little post about what's being going down around here lately. Really.
I've been a little emotional
Since having Forrest, well since pregnancy, the flood of hormonal tearfulness has never really left me. I will cry at the most innocuous things. I've been taking evening primrose oil supplements to try to stem the tide somewhat but when I forget for a few days, as I have this week, the floodgates are opened. This week I have cried at
We have three swallow nests in the garage and the other night I stood outside watching about a dozen swallows swooping and diving around us in the garden. Did you know they fly to Africa every winter and return to the UK in the spring? That they return to the same nests, sometimes for years on end to lay their eggs and have their babies? Then they fly back to Africa for the winter. The thought that the very swallows that were performing aerial ballet in the skies above our garden had been to Africa and back and chose our garage to be their baby-raising home for the next however many years seemed a real privilege. And this journey to and from Africa - it must be exhausting. Do they stop? Do they sleep? How long does it take them? And why were they swooping up so high and down so low at dusk? They seemed to be doing it just because they could, for the sheer joy of living and being and that ... that made me cry
A photograph of a baby breastfeeding
Just so sweet and natural, it reminded me of the quiet times spent bonding with Forrest in the early days. I've never really talked about it here but I breastfed Forrest for eight weeks as a newborn. It was difficult, frustrating and painful most of the time but on those occasions when it was going well it felt like the most wonderful, natural thing and gave me a real sense of my place in the world. I never did it in public or even in front of family - that's just not me. I know it's perfectly natural but then so is doing a poo and I wouldn't do that in front of my grandad or in the middle of the shopping centre either. I don't judge people who are happy to breastfeed in public (though I did before I became a mum!) but it's just not for me. Although I did once have to do it in the back of the car in a Domino's car park. It's a long story!
The Velveteen Rabbit
I ordered this book ages ago for Forrest because I loved it as a child, and it just arrived this week. I read it to him at bedtime and, like so many of the books I have chosen for him (Nancy Tilman books, anyone??) it made me shed a little silent tear because it is just so sweet. I hope he enjoys the story when he is old enough to understand it
The SMA Advert
A repeat offender. That last line 'take it from us, you're doing great' gets me Every. Bloody. Time.
I REALLY MUST REMEMBER MY EVENING PRIMROSE OIL FROM NOW ON !!
What else has been keeping me busy this week? Ah, Forrest. Little Forrest is absolutely full of cold and bless him, he's having a terribly tough time. He's only just got rid of his last cold but, having started nursery last week, he has picked up a whole new load of germs so it was on the cards. He's been through five outfits today due to explosions of snot, poo, food and vomit. It's been a challenging day
And yes, I said nursery. Two afternoons per week, Forrest has decamped to the local nursery and spent the afternoon charming all the ladies there. Apparently he has been a little angel and has settled in really well. I'm pleased, it has been incredibly hard - he was originally booked in for three full days per week but it didn't take me long to suss out that I wasn't going to let that happen. So two afternoons it is, that's quite enough. Enough time to socialise with the other babies and learn to be away from his ever-present mummy. But not enough time for me to do much work. More on that to come ...
The pictures above are from the past few weeks, I've been a bit slow on the Instagram front. Have I told you about my new notebook? The one I stole, aided and abetted by my miniature partner in crime? Let me set the scene ... I'm in TK Maxx buying baskets of various sizes for storing various things. I pick up two nice new notebooks and pop them into the basket under my pushchair. Get in the queue, get talking to a pregnant lady and her mum about my pushchair, they borrow it for a little push up and down the queue to test it out. Forrest looks a bit worried and starts calling 'mama?!' - everyone 'aaah!'s and laughs at how cute he is, the checkout lady starts asking me all about him ... before I know it I've paid for my baskets and I'm out of there still smiling at how funny it was. I'm back at the car before I realise I've stolen £10 of notebooks and by then, well, after manhandling four baskets the length of the shopping centre, I'm past caring. I'm an actual criminal
And finally, the little mummy partridge that Matt found by the front door. Bless her. Matt was about to start beautifying the front of the house by rebuilding the miniature walls to mount wrought iron railings into (we've kept the originals) when he noticed her, sitting on a little nest of eggs right by the front door. Now, had Matt and I been left to our own devices we reckon we could have saved her and her eggs. But someone gave her a fright, she took off and left her nest, with 14 tiny little eggs in it. Allowing ourselves to be convinced that she wouldn't dare return, we gave her eggs to Matt's dad to put under one of our hens. An hour later she was back, looking for her eggs. It was heartbreaking. I cried (surprise surprise) for that poor mummy partridge. We had to do something, she was sitting right on a patch that needed to be dug up. But I re-learned a valuable lesson that day - don't let a man convince you that he knows what's to do. In any circumstances. He doesn't
And on that wise note, have a great weekend!