Fab Friday!

At last I have good things to write.

Several things have lifted my mood this week, yay for me and for the the very real smile on my face.

So, firstly I have returned to my beloved yoga. On Tuesday I had such a fab class I left on a high I can only compare to a post-orgasmic glow, oh my it was good. Yes, yes, yes....



Sorry, just pausing to bask a little more.

Ahhh

And then last night I had the pleasure of having one of little girl's best friends to stay and although by floor boards took the beating of two pairs of little feet clomping about in my heels, it was an absolute delight to see the two girls play so nicely.




It almost made up for the heartbreak in the mornings as one goes upstairs at nursery and the other goes down.

At least we have the joint birthday to look forward to, not to mention a million playdates. I've bought a buggy board especially!



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Wordless Wednesday - Fwiends

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Waving not drowning

Dear Me,

 

It is ok that you are struggling against a tide of anxiety that is reaching tsunami proportions.  This doesn’t mean you are losing the plot; it is just an expected dip in your recovery.

 

I know you feel disappointed in yourself as you really thought you were fixed and that the drugs do work, you thought you were yourself again.  You are yourself; you will be even more yourself again soon.

 

Please don’t beat yourself up for wanting to run away and weep, this too shall pass.  The light at the end of the tunnel is not an oncoming train; it’s your daughter with a torch.

 

x

 

 

 

Favourite Photo Meme

I have been tagged by the lurverly Metropolitan Mum to dig in the archives and produce my very favourite picture.



To be honest there are many I could choose, especially from PD's photo blog; as I have just lost my Grandad, and my Grandma is rapidly shrinking, this is the one that came to mind:










As little as five years ago I would have doubted that my little girl would know one of the biggest influences in my life, my Grandma. The years have passed and while she may not be the same Grandma I grew up with, I am proud to introduce my little girl to the Greatest Great Grandma she will ever have.


I stopped taking pictures of Grandad because I wanted to remember him as he was, and as I will always picture him.


I tag the lovely Nixdminx and English Mum to let us see their favourtite piccies.


Thank you Tara for starting this one.

Little florishes

I have just been in to greet my little girl.

'where's my pretty girl?'

As Obel sat up, she said...

'Ta-da!'



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Arse from my 'obel

Over the Christmas hols I am not the only one to have gained, but while it's pounds I've amassed Isobel has been busily adding to her vocabulary.

This is in danger of being a proud mummy post, but actually I'm putting it down here because I am worried I will forget.

Over Christmas I was impressed that Isobel had added a new body part to her list. Apparently my daughter had learnt where her elbow is.

In fact she had learnt where it was and kept repeating it.

Except it wasn't her elbow, her mother was being rubbish.

She was actually saying her name, she had mastered the concept of 'me' and 'mine'.

It's 'Obel'.

I have now assumed what will undoubtedly be my identity for many years to come: I am 'Obel's Mummy'.

Along with her name Isobel now knows the difference between hot and cold and light and dark. She knows when things are 'ninished'; can tell her mummy to be 'fareful'; knows about 'now', 'rain' and 'sunshine'; can point out buses; name all her favourite tele programmes (the shame!); ask for her favourite dinner, rice fish and peas, pasta, pizza; and she can make her own scrambled eggs.

First day back at school (nursery)

And I score a 'could do better'.

For the first time in the whole 13 days Isobel slept to beyond 7am.

I struggled to rouse myself even though it was later than I had been waking.

Isobel didn't want to go to nursery, so I bribed her with milk to get in her pushchair.

One plus mark gained for getting her to keep her gloves on...

100 lost for forgetting her bag.

Many more lost for allowing my child to be dressed in whatever they inevitably have to lend her later.


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Wasted - 'fraid not

Last time Tasha at Wham-Bam set me homework I failed - but I will write the post about Isobel's name at some point, promise.

But here she set me the task of writing my highlights of 2009 and as it is New Years Eve it is appropriate that I take this assignment.

Ok, so it has been a funny old year but, in no particular order, other than as they come to me, here are my highlights:

1. I have a job. Yipee for me. When I asked the universe to provide me with a three or four day a week job, flexible enough to allow me to care for my daughter, who knew I would get it. Ok, so I'm not paid as much as I once was, but I have a fantastic boss and colleagues amongst whom I have found some very very good new friends.

2. I have made fantastic new friends who's wisdom has relieved me of a great burden; I know I chose to have Isobel but PD CHOSE to be a part of it - I haven't derailed his life. While we are on the subject of friends, I have been lucky enough to have some great ones, old and new. These people have stood by me even in my year in which I have been neglectful. So if you are reading this I am so grateful and so happy to have you in my world.

3. Stripping off in public to be a life model has to be a highlight - doesn't it? Hey it was brave if nothing else.

4. My cousin Verity's wedding was certainly one of Isobel and my highpoints. It served to illuminate all that is fantastic about my family, gave me an opportunity to be twirled and to feel loved. Not to mention the fact that it was probably the last time my Grandparents danced together.

5. Getting to know my little girl as she grows and blossoms I am sure will be a major part of every year for many more to come. Her walking and now her talking give me fantastic pleasure. She is a constant (if not consistent!) source of joy.

So all in all I have lots to count my blessings for: my family close and slightly less close; my friends old, new and revisited (and virtual!).

I had a New Years bath earlier ( I promise I do bathe more than once a year) but the idea was to wash away all that was less than good in 2009, and actually found myself reminding me of how far I have come in a decade. Now for my own benefit, a quick synopsis for when ever I need it:

I have married and left a man whose love I underestimated; I have travelled around the world; achieved the peak in job titles and probably (unfortunately) my earning potential;I have bought and made a beautiful home; I have loved with all my heart and been loved back equally, only to have to watch him die; I have trekked and travelled independently in South America; I have achieved my ambition of speaking in public; and I guess my ambition of writing, with this blog; and I have stripped off in public; and I have given birth to a beautiful baby girl.

Not a wasted decade that's for sure.

In passing

As my mummy said 'it's that time of year'.

It is indeed, my stepfather's mother passed away this evening.

God bless 'more nanna', you will be missed.

Love to you Mike.

A grandad less grandad grandma, or another reason to love sprouts.

My Grandma may have lost the man with whom she has spent more than 65 years.

She may be slightly losing her marbles: she may repeat herself; not remember names; she may even have to have a note in her glasses case to remind her Grandad has gone.

Indeed she does cry a bit, quite a bit and her hearing aid will whistle as you hug her tight.

But, she is still Grandma and she can still have fun.













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Christmas Love in

What better thing could there be on Christmas day than to hear your daughter say 'I love you' for the very first time.

Yes, this morning Isobel was heard, by witnesses, saying 'byebyeloveyou' *kiss*.

Ah it melts a mother's heart.

Well, it would do if she hadn't said it to a bloomin' toy Isle of Wight Squirrell.

Nope, I haven't heard it since.

Has your Grandad ridden on Elephants?

This post is about my Grandad, my Grandad who I lost last night (no he hasn't rolled under the settee). My Grandad is gone.


In his words 'that's it and all about it'. But that isn't it, it's not all about it although I'm not really sure what is all about it.

I just know I have a great big Grandad shaped hole in my world and no body can fill it, certainly not unless the have ridden on elephantswith Bashatampi and been called the old man at 22, or taught me to use chopsticks using bic biros to demonstrate.


Oh Grandad, watching you shrink was hard enough but now you are gone...


Grandad wasn't just my Grandad, there are plenty of us Grand and great grand children about. But I like to think of myself as the longest serving Granddaughter and I have the first Great-Grandchild to bear the family name. It is because of Grandad that I have always been so proud of my family name, and indeed my family. Anyway, Grandad has been the biggest and most consistent male figure in my life.


He taught me to drink whisky, and I'm sure it was a test for suitors when he poured them one of his 4 finger measures, I also think i got my gin habit from him, always believing 'you shouldn't have too much blood in your alcohol stream'.


I failed at journalism (well, I only ever tried Reuters and then gave up)but I know my Grandad was always proud of me. In fact that was the thing Grandad was always proud of everybody, whatever they did.

His / the family (well RAF) toast, he always recited is:

Here's to it and from it,
And to it again.
Those who get to it,
And don't do it,
will never get to it,
To try and do it again.

Grandad was a storyteller and I like to think that if we all remember a little of those stories than we will come close to something that resembles him.

While I close my eyes to hear his voice, and try to remember that 'to live in the hearts of those you love most, is not to die,' here are some pictures:

Science Homework

The only way I can think about Dark Matter is that it is like the nylon tights type fabric that looks bare but holds sequins in place on a dancer’s costume.

Strictly meets science!

A sucky Pantomime Dame

There are times when I liken my self to Cinderella. No I’m not waiting for my prince to come, though it would be nice. I don’t spend my days engaged in drudgery by those less lovely than me, though hang on a minute maybe…

My slippers aren’t glass. But, I do always have to be home by midnight.

No spontaneous drinking and dancing until the wee hours of the morning. No spontaneity AT ALL; there is always a babysitter to relieve.

I know, as PD will always be quick to point out, that I chose to have my baby and therefore I should have expected this. But I suspect sometimes even those who planned and tried for years to get a baby sometimes feel the same way.

I mean you KNOW it will be the case; and you KNOW it will be worth it; but sometimes it sucks.

It's my age you know..

This morning it dawned on me that I am in fact as near to 40 as my sister is to 20.

Armed with this knowledge I am aim to set forth into the world today and buy a copy of the Christmas Radio Times.

The rewards of motherhood

There are many joys that motherhood brings with it:

Your daughters first smile; first word; first time she says mummy; first steps...

The list is endless.

And then there is the first time you find yourself pulling a worm out of your daughter's bottom.


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More jingly stuff

Last moth I really enjoyed reading about everyone's Christmases in their John Lewis posts. In fact I was so excited I'm sure I wrote essays in everyone's comments.

Now I wasn't lucky enough to be sponsored to write this post, but hey I thought I'd like to write my post anyway.

Not so much rules but more how I like my Christmas to be.

It's pretty much always been the same but some of the major players have turned into bit parts in my life, but heigh ho - Christmas is still Christmas.

I've always been very lucky in love and have never had to divide my Christmas between mine and someone elses family. My first love lived around the corner so we could still be together on the day, and the only Christmas I wasn't at home , he wasn't either because we were in OZ. My longest relationship was with a guy who was half danish, his maternal half. This very conveniently meant his family celebrated on Christmas Eve.

PD, well PD and I are making a new family tradition just for our little family. We spend Christmas eve together. This year Isobel and I will go to his place for lunch so Isobel can open her pressies in situ and they will become the toys at Daddy's house. He's already planning his menu after which we will return to mine for cheese and port and little girl will open her presents from me.

Otherwise you may still find me own the pub with my school friends Christmas eve - yes nigh on 20 years on that kind of gathering still takes place.

So, that's Christmas Eve.

Christmas Day, it's up bright and early and in the car to catch the one Christmas morning ferry to the Isle of Wight. I actually love this ferry trip. No one is grumpy, everyone is sparkly and it get's me out of Christmas lunch preparation.

In fact we will arrive at Mummy's just in time to open the fizz.

This year we have decided to limit the amount of time we expect little ones to sit at the table by swapping a seated started for canapes that can be eaten as the children open the one present they are allowed from under the tree, the one that is meant to keep them amused until after lunch.

This does mean I am redundant as chief starter-prettier-upperer, but I'm sure I'll cope. It will also allow a space between this and lunch, more room for turkey and sprouts.

My mum will make a fantastic Christmas lunch with more stuffings than you could possibly imagine, including apple and celery for me.

And then, and only then it is presents! Presents dished out by Hayley probably, presents we all open one at a time, thus filling pretty much the rest of the day.

Boxing day lunch is bubble and squeak and a cheese board that lasts ALL day.

Oh and the bestest and newest thing Mummy and I have come up with this year - the children can wear fancy dress!

Not a daddy's girl

This evening my daughter has been her usual angel self.

We had a small tussle over getting in her pushchair at nursery, but that was forgotten before we got out the gate.

Isobel sung and kicked her boots all the way home. We got in and snuggled up on the sofa to watch tele. We paused to dance to the Nick Jr children in need song, and then resumed snuggling.

At bathtime, the telly was switched off and off up the stairs we went. Isobel pretended to do a wee on the loo, brushed her teeth and climbed into her bath to play.

Out of the bath, a snuggle, some milk, a book or two and Elmo and Andrea Bocelli and then bed.

Not a murmer, just a 'bye mummy' and she's asleep.

Contrast this to last evening when PD was here. I don't really know what happens when he is around, we love him dearly but...

Maybe I'm so intent on being a good mum I tense up, maybe Isobel get's confused by having both parents around, perhaps PD is just stricter than I am, I just choose my battles.

But, when I most like her to be the angel child she more often than not is, when I want her daddy to see what a great little team we make, Isobel can be a bit of a madam.

It's a shame because one of my favourite things is when Isobel takes both our hands.

Jingle bells

Actually this post has nothing to do with jingling but as it's everything to do with Christmas I used it anyway... Laughing all the way...

Isobel and I have crammed all our Christmas entertaining into one weekend so I thought I'd let you know our tips.

For half a dozen under twos (yes I am a little loopy and no I didn't get snaps, nearly took some of aftermath) you need 50 cocktail sausages. Oh actually it was 49, I found an ember of an escapee two days later. Feed the mums, and dad, fizz and pomegranate juice, scatter party with a liberal sprinking of chocolate coins and all will be absolutely lovely.




Sunday was lunch for 8 at mine. Isobel being the only tea-totaler.
Our secret this time, those homemade truffles and racing brussel sprouts.

Other than that today we did Christmas wrapping. Combine my tasteful brown paper with my pet elf's finger painting skills and we finally have things to put under the tree!


Here are our paperchains, no idea why I took it at the jaunty angle (I was sober).




Truffles: 225g plain chocolate, 175 ml double cream. Heat the cream to a rolling boil and pour over the chocolate (already broken up of course). Allow to set a little in the bowl then scoop out with a teaspoon, with icing flour dusted hands roll into balls and then into cocoa or nuts. If you fancy a tipsy truffle add about 50ml of booze, but these truffles will be messier to roll. If you like the ginger idea you can wizz in stem ginger, or cheap and use a ginger chocolate bar as part of the recipe.

Enjoy.


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Maybe not quite grown up

I'm always amazed at how grown up my little girl is.

But for 5 minutes, once a day, she still looks like my baby:




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