A strange sadness, to leave the house Orla knows so well. She’s splashed in this bath since her very first week; she knows which wobbly floorboards to skip, as she leads my by the hand to bed. She knows where the raisins are kept, and the way to the park, and the best windows to
It’s much too easy to let my blog & instagram slide into being part of the ‘perfect life’ myth – that idea that everyone else has everything great, & you’re the only one dealing with the crap. So, to redress the balance: I have really bad anxiety. I sometimes cancel plans because leaving the house
I found her under a gooseberry bush, which is a euphemism of course for a labour so painful I really-actually thought I was going to die. I did not find childbirth spiritual or beautiful. Instead, it found me, violent & terrifying; a trauma so gruesome that under any other circumstance you’d be given a week
Not sure it’s really possible to fast-track wisdom, but in case it is, & in case I get hit by a bus, etc, an ongoing list: Read! It doesn’t matter what – it will make your thoughts clearer, your mood lighter & your spelling better. Everyone thinks they are a good driver. Most
She is one. This seems completely impossible, but the calendar confirms is is true. She sleeps snuggled close to one of us in our big bed. She likes to tuck her feet around against my tummy for warmth, & push against me, just like she did when she grew inside. She uses words – uh
It’s not that I’m anti-pink per se… I guess I just don’t want O to grow up thinking it’s her only option. & besides, we already have a lot of pink. Everyone buys pink when you have a baby girl, & though I’d always planned to dress her in white & grey & brown
The last lazy day before the Christmas mayhem really begins. Time to listen to our Christmas playlist, wrap the last few gifts and start drinking at 4pm. Happy days.