Today marked the end of an era, today I farewelled our old house. I rattled around in its empty rooms, J crawling around at my feet, his excited cries echoing around the walls.
This old house, it was our home for six years. I first walked in its door with a young man I’d just started seeing – he cooked me dinner. After that, I was a regular visitor. I fell in love with its cottage charm, its views down to the valley below and the hills in the distance – all the little houses dotted amongst the green. I also fell in love with the man who lived here. Five months later, I moved in. Continue reading
Yesterday, I read this lovely piece on pregnancy by Lori over at Random Rantings of a Stay at Home Mum. By the end I was a bawling mess, on the couch in front of my laptop.
I had to comment. In my comment I referenced the above pregnant pic of me that hangs on Jarvis’s bedroom wall.
I love this photo, it was one of many taken by my talented friend Leonie Clark when I was about 34 weeks. A little over a year ago. For a while, when Jarvis was younger and I was struggling to make sense of his facial palsy diagnosis and trying to reach a point of acceptance, I would sit feeding him in a dim light on the sofa bed beneath this picture and I would cry. I would look up at this picture and wish I was still that innocent. That hopeful. That I could still hold him within me and protect him from what else the world might throw at him. Continue reading
The post was becoming a thing of beauty – well to me anyway – juxtaposing the imagined thoughts of 80s one hit wonders Dexy’s Midnight Runners after C’mon Eileen became an international smash hit with my current emotional state – fearing a similar fate; that of a one post wonder.
And then technical glitch hit, the post was gone, replaced instead with a solitary letter r.
At first I tried resurrecting the post – but this only frustrated me. The train of thought nuances were now lost to me having spilt out on the page previously.
So now all that remained was an emotion, the reason I started writing the post in the first place. Behind all the witty references to dungarees I was scared. Scared of being a one-post wonder.
As My boy with the Crooked Smile became one of this week’s feature posts on Aussie Mummy Bloggers I was both happy and fearful – what if I never write a post that resonates with as many people as that one?
What if? What if? It’s the ifs in life that hold us back.
What if I never write anything that resonates with people as much? It really doesn’t matter. What matters is what I do now. Do I believe its a foregone conclusion that I don’t have anything else worthwhile to share and stop now? Or do I feel the fear and do it anyway?
Feeling the fear and writing about it, I feel the pressure valve release. Which reminds me why I’m doing this anyway.
Exactly nine months ago today, I was three hours into learning about my baby boy.
To say I was in awe was an understatement. My body had been through its biggest challenge; 41 weeks and three days of pregnancy and 33 hours of labour to bring me my most precious gift; but little did I know then that my biggest challenge was still to come.
Despite hearing stories from fellow mothers and reading a few books on parenting, I really had no idea of what life was going to be like with a baby, particularly a newborn. I didn’t yet know how I would feel when my baby screamed constantly, how I would survive sleep deprivation and how I would deal with his facial palsy diagnosis. I was excited and scared all at once.
Over the last nine months my son has taught me alot and if I was able to whiz back in time and whisper in the ear of my new mother self, I would tell her these 10 things: Continue reading
I have a long-held theory that a person’s clothes shopping style often mirrors the way they approach the search for love and friendship.
Take my style: I don’t particularly like shopping, but I like clothes. I can instantly tell if a store will hold anything for me following a cursory glance. It’s all about instinct. I don’t like trying on clothes for the heck of it, but only try on clothes I really like, that really catch my eye. My taste could be described as retro meets sensible. I live for jeans, but I love a wild pattern, I like detailing that you might not expect. A pocket here, a ruffle there, a large button, a metallic zip.
And such is the case with my nearest and dearest. Mr P caught my eye thanks to a polyster brown shirt and when conversation ensued I found a quirky sense of humour, a sensitivity and an honesty that I found refreshing but that others sometimes find confronting.
I often find clothing items and special people when I am not particularly looking, they jump out at me unexpectedly almost flagging me down with an accompanying feeling that tells me I am closer to myself, that I’ve made a special find.