Time and again, my life seems to push me ahead and pull me back at the same time. I’m pulled into euphoria and dropped back into frustration.
But this kind of cyclone happens with such ferocity only when there are lots of changes happening.
I have a way-too-tall-for-10-months mini version of myself in my green-eyed little boy. I don’t think I write about him often enough, and even if I do, it’s not enough. I feel like I crave more and more time with just myself and him. Gnawing, cooing, kissing, tickling, discovering his shadow… he is my bundle of peaceful love. He’s strong, brave, determined and very confident in telling everyone within earshot that he wants ME and ONLY ME to hold him.
I have an almost 2 and a half year old girl with huge brown eyes and dark blonde hair that exhausts me with the kind of lust that she has for the world. She wants more, more, more all the time. More challenges, more lessons, more exploring, more pushing-the-boundaries of her physical capabilities. It’s teaching me how to give her what she needs, but it also makes me feel that I don’t know how to give enough to her. It’s never enough for her, and it makes her tense and angry. Calm does not exist in her soul, and the only way I hope she can find it is if I stand by her and help her find her own sense of peace.
This magic has been happening in front of me and away from me, whilst I juggle being a working parent. Lately, for me, I realise that whilst I love what I do, me commuting an hour door to door in the morning and an hour in the evening is an exercise in selfishness, in some way. I want the break, I want to do something that exists outside of being a parent… but this job isn’t it. It isn’t THE thing that I jump out of bed for and leave my little family. It’s just been a getaway for me, but hasn’t fulfilled me for a while now.
I began to ask the feared question: is it worth it? Is the chaos of rearranging everything under the sun worth the 8 hours’ at a desk where I don’t really contribute ideas anymore?
And the answer came back to me: No.
And it terrified me, because I have never not worked. Since I’ve been 22, I have worked nonstop at various jobs in fashion, journalism and theatre. It’s been thrilling and exhausting and gratifying. But it’s become different now. Maybe it’s because I have two to look after now, maybe it’s because my life is leading me in a different direction temporarily, and my creativity will be used elsewhere.
I don’t know. It’s the unknown that scares me, I’ll admit. I don’t know if I’ll be a good stay-at-home mother, I don’t know if I’ll have the patience that’s needed. But I decided to resign. And I know that the decision
is an important one, and will be, for myself and my children for the moment.
In parallel with this decision has also come another one: moving out of London.
We’ve been here for almost 5 years now, and since my first post, it’s been an enlightening experience. I’ve learned how to be the resident of a new country, how to survive the first few years of marriage, how to drive, how to drink until 4am, how to be the wife of a business owner, and how to bring up two young children bilingually. I’m still learning about all of the above and more to come. But I am trading my stilettos for Wellington boots and moving out to a house in the country and potentially starting a business with my other half.
I don’t know what the next year will hold, but this year of the Dragon will be quite the ferocious one for us, in good and frustrating ways, I’m sure. Stay tuned.
Maybe I should rename this blog My London Ride? Because it sure feels like it at the moment…
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Thursday, 5 January 2012
It should be what it isn't.
2012 isn’t about resolutions. It isn’t about changing the face of who I am and how I operate, it’s about contented acceptance and joy.
It’s about finding the magic that exists in the day to day, the joy in the mundane.
2011 brought me so much joy, and so much to be thankful for (though I’m still waiting for a decent 8-hours’ sleep, that would be nice…). And it would be shameful for me if I didn’t take that into 2012 with a smile on my face and a skip in my step that shows the world I can count my blessings.
2012 is also about me appreciating the woman I’ve become, after putting myself down for so many years. I make things tough for myself to prove that things are worth it, which is bizarre I’ll admit, but that’s just how my brain works.
I no longer want to compromise myself for friendships. If you want to be my friend, you have to do the legwork, no matter how busy you are. Same goes for me. In 2011 I learned a valuable lesson: I reach out way too much and meet people more than halfway, and unfortunately I’ve been let down. I’m usually the one people turn to for venting, for help, for advice. And I give every time. Yet when I turn to them when I need help, I’m met with silence or avoidance. And yes, it was someone whom I thought was a close friend. Oh well.
I no longer want to compare myself to other people, and compare my achievements to others, to set an unreachable level for my own psyche. Everyone has their own challenges and baggage, and it’s up to me to cast off any extra weight that I’ve been carrying and focus on my own stuff.
I’m going to appreciate that the entire package that I have created within myself is extraordinary. Maybe sounds a bit arrogant, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.
I met my husband and a year later I relocated to his home country.
I tried to find a job, and found a few good ones, but nothing that really challenged me.
We moved houses 3 times in 3 years.
In the midst of that, we had 2 children, I went back to work, he started a business, and we will be starting another one in 2012, fingers crossed.
I have no real friends over in this country, and my family is 4000 miles away in New York. His family runs their own business, so they aren’t really around either. Which means that we have no real help with childcare, consistently.
I’m not listing these to get a badge of honour, I’m listing these because all of these points have a silver lining for me. Every single one has made me who I am today. A much stronger person, a more balanced person, a more appreciative person for the negative that I’ve cut out of my life and for the positive that I’ve embraced.
2012 will be good. Because I have everything about it to smile about.
It’s about finding the magic that exists in the day to day, the joy in the mundane.
2011 brought me so much joy, and so much to be thankful for (though I’m still waiting for a decent 8-hours’ sleep, that would be nice…). And it would be shameful for me if I didn’t take that into 2012 with a smile on my face and a skip in my step that shows the world I can count my blessings.
2012 is also about me appreciating the woman I’ve become, after putting myself down for so many years. I make things tough for myself to prove that things are worth it, which is bizarre I’ll admit, but that’s just how my brain works.
I no longer want to compromise myself for friendships. If you want to be my friend, you have to do the legwork, no matter how busy you are. Same goes for me. In 2011 I learned a valuable lesson: I reach out way too much and meet people more than halfway, and unfortunately I’ve been let down. I’m usually the one people turn to for venting, for help, for advice. And I give every time. Yet when I turn to them when I need help, I’m met with silence or avoidance. And yes, it was someone whom I thought was a close friend. Oh well.
I no longer want to compare myself to other people, and compare my achievements to others, to set an unreachable level for my own psyche. Everyone has their own challenges and baggage, and it’s up to me to cast off any extra weight that I’ve been carrying and focus on my own stuff.
I’m going to appreciate that the entire package that I have created within myself is extraordinary. Maybe sounds a bit arrogant, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.
I met my husband and a year later I relocated to his home country.
I tried to find a job, and found a few good ones, but nothing that really challenged me.
We moved houses 3 times in 3 years.
In the midst of that, we had 2 children, I went back to work, he started a business, and we will be starting another one in 2012, fingers crossed.
I have no real friends over in this country, and my family is 4000 miles away in New York. His family runs their own business, so they aren’t really around either. Which means that we have no real help with childcare, consistently.
I’m not listing these to get a badge of honour, I’m listing these because all of these points have a silver lining for me. Every single one has made me who I am today. A much stronger person, a more balanced person, a more appreciative person for the negative that I’ve cut out of my life and for the positive that I’ve embraced.
2012 will be good. Because I have everything about it to smile about.
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Where did I leave my sarcasm?! Oh yeah, there it is. Right by the baby vomit on the floor.
So, I started this blog just over 4 years ago, and I remember being quite blunt.
And funny. And observational.
Somewhere along the way, I let life sidle in and get in the way and make me a bit more serious. Oh, that.. and having 2kids in 2 years. A bit of a distraction.
So, let me undo my metaphorical librarian-bun, take my glasses off and be a bit sassy for once.
A few things:
1. This country doesn't believe in seasons. No joke. Everything is one giant mush of cloud, rain, wind, cold wind, warm rain, fog. Oh, and sunshine for about 2 days. And maybe some 75 degree weather at the beginning and end of the summer. And maybe in the middle. Whatever.
2. People drive like maniacs, but they do it in a very polite way. New Yorkers, for example, have no problem scraping the side of your car if you get in their way or drive too close (even though their roads are about 6 times as wide as over here). I like driving over here. It feels exciting, unnerving, and... safe. Odd.
3. This country has a lovely sense of tradition and reverence for culture and ceremony. Some people don't agree with it, some modernists call the royals a waste of time and money. But I think that in this day and age where everything is moving so fast and furious, and everything seems new and exciting, tradition is like a comfortable old glove. Secure. Warm. Tangible. And even for a "foreigner" like myself, I get caught up in it and love reading about the lines of royalty and what they've gone through (no matter how ridiculous or scandalous).
4. I miss having family around. I don't very many friends, and no one that I feel close to over here, so my "reliables" are the mister's family. And even then, it's hard to rely on them because they're so busy with their own lives running a business. I do miss my parents. I imagine that (as annoying as it would be) I could call them over to babysit or to have dinner, and they'd only be 30 minutes away. It would be a huge help to take the pressure off sometimes. But that's life at the moment, and we're managing as best as we can without that.
5. My kids are growing up with odd accents. They have a mix of British, American and Ukrainian. Can't wait to see what that's going to be like when they start talking properly.
6. I have a case of the "Madonnas". I have a strange lilt to my American accent, and it sounds pretentious. I don't like it, but it just comes out.
7. I'm SO glad we decided to have kids over here. I had the most amazing midwifery team, healthy food, private cozy room with double bed and flat screen TV, very consistent pre-and post-natal care, no doctors trying to ply me with drugs... the same experience, different hospitals...for both kids. And you know what? I didn't pay for a single bit of it. Not. one. dime. It was all on the (much maligned) NHS. Socialized medicine is THE way to go. Ridiculous America should learn a lesson when it comes to that. Amongst other things.
8. People here LOVE. TO. DRINK. However, somehow they manage to pace themselves, unlike my drinking episodes in NYC that ended up with me passing out at around 12am. Over here, people manage to stay relatively lucid and only semi-drunk even in extreme circumstances like staying out until 6am. It's admirable, and a little bit insane. I like that.
9. The food here is awesome. Most of it is fresh, locally sourced and NO ADDED SUGAR. In the US, I had about 2 cavities a month. It was bizarre, because I didn't eat a lot of sugary stuff as a kid or adult, so it baffled me. And then I come over here, I don't change what I eat or anything, and I haven't seen the dentist in 3 years. Healthy, strong, mouth and no cavities. Why? I've figured it out. In the US, food as added sugar in it. Everything does. Even bread does (and it doesn't need it, bakeries that mass-produce bread use sugar to make the yeast rise quicker). And you can taste it. Everyone in the US is doped up on fat and sugar and salt. It's disgusting. I'm so glad I live in a country that doesn't really do that. Sure, there's some junk out there, but you can very easily avoid it, and most of the stuff that stocks the shelves is good, old-fashioned healthy food. You don't even have to buy organic meat over here, because farming standards are carefully managed by the state and the names of farmers and their farms are printed on the actual label, so you know where your meat comes from.
10. British men are delicious (well, mine is especially). Most of them have manners at a dinner table (they don't pick their noses or lick their knives or burp/fart and think it's funny), they start realising that it's a good investment to buy a house even when they're only 25 years old, they open doors for girls, they buy rounds at the bar and don't let the girl pay, they know how to be polite and gallant in public and they also know how to be filthy/naughty behind closed doors. Mine especially. ;-)
And that, audience, is one of the many reasons I'm glad I'm in this country.
And funny. And observational.
Somewhere along the way, I let life sidle in and get in the way and make me a bit more serious. Oh, that.. and having 2kids in 2 years. A bit of a distraction.
So, let me undo my metaphorical librarian-bun, take my glasses off and be a bit sassy for once.
A few things:
1. This country doesn't believe in seasons. No joke. Everything is one giant mush of cloud, rain, wind, cold wind, warm rain, fog. Oh, and sunshine for about 2 days. And maybe some 75 degree weather at the beginning and end of the summer. And maybe in the middle. Whatever.
2. People drive like maniacs, but they do it in a very polite way. New Yorkers, for example, have no problem scraping the side of your car if you get in their way or drive too close (even though their roads are about 6 times as wide as over here). I like driving over here. It feels exciting, unnerving, and... safe. Odd.
3. This country has a lovely sense of tradition and reverence for culture and ceremony. Some people don't agree with it, some modernists call the royals a waste of time and money. But I think that in this day and age where everything is moving so fast and furious, and everything seems new and exciting, tradition is like a comfortable old glove. Secure. Warm. Tangible. And even for a "foreigner" like myself, I get caught up in it and love reading about the lines of royalty and what they've gone through (no matter how ridiculous or scandalous).
4. I miss having family around. I don't very many friends, and no one that I feel close to over here, so my "reliables" are the mister's family. And even then, it's hard to rely on them because they're so busy with their own lives running a business. I do miss my parents. I imagine that (as annoying as it would be) I could call them over to babysit or to have dinner, and they'd only be 30 minutes away. It would be a huge help to take the pressure off sometimes. But that's life at the moment, and we're managing as best as we can without that.
5. My kids are growing up with odd accents. They have a mix of British, American and Ukrainian. Can't wait to see what that's going to be like when they start talking properly.
6. I have a case of the "Madonnas". I have a strange lilt to my American accent, and it sounds pretentious. I don't like it, but it just comes out.
7. I'm SO glad we decided to have kids over here. I had the most amazing midwifery team, healthy food, private cozy room with double bed and flat screen TV, very consistent pre-and post-natal care, no doctors trying to ply me with drugs... the same experience, different hospitals...for both kids. And you know what? I didn't pay for a single bit of it. Not. one. dime. It was all on the (much maligned) NHS. Socialized medicine is THE way to go. Ridiculous America should learn a lesson when it comes to that. Amongst other things.
8. People here LOVE. TO. DRINK. However, somehow they manage to pace themselves, unlike my drinking episodes in NYC that ended up with me passing out at around 12am. Over here, people manage to stay relatively lucid and only semi-drunk even in extreme circumstances like staying out until 6am. It's admirable, and a little bit insane. I like that.
9. The food here is awesome. Most of it is fresh, locally sourced and NO ADDED SUGAR. In the US, I had about 2 cavities a month. It was bizarre, because I didn't eat a lot of sugary stuff as a kid or adult, so it baffled me. And then I come over here, I don't change what I eat or anything, and I haven't seen the dentist in 3 years. Healthy, strong, mouth and no cavities. Why? I've figured it out. In the US, food as added sugar in it. Everything does. Even bread does (and it doesn't need it, bakeries that mass-produce bread use sugar to make the yeast rise quicker). And you can taste it. Everyone in the US is doped up on fat and sugar and salt. It's disgusting. I'm so glad I live in a country that doesn't really do that. Sure, there's some junk out there, but you can very easily avoid it, and most of the stuff that stocks the shelves is good, old-fashioned healthy food. You don't even have to buy organic meat over here, because farming standards are carefully managed by the state and the names of farmers and their farms are printed on the actual label, so you know where your meat comes from.
10. British men are delicious (well, mine is especially). Most of them have manners at a dinner table (they don't pick their noses or lick their knives or burp/fart and think it's funny), they start realising that it's a good investment to buy a house even when they're only 25 years old, they open doors for girls, they buy rounds at the bar and don't let the girl pay, they know how to be polite and gallant in public and they also know how to be filthy/naughty behind closed doors. Mine especially. ;-)
And that, audience, is one of the many reasons I'm glad I'm in this country.
Saturday, 12 November 2011
The comedy of the hypocrite.
When I give, I give 100%.
Not that I'm perfect or anything (far from it, as you've seen from the content of this blog). When it comes to my relationship or my family (or even my relationship with myself), I tend to think I can do it all, I can be perfect, and I preach about how to "be". That never goes down well and backfires and I usually laugh at myself whilst swimming around in the abyss of ridiculousness and complication that I stirred up. Martyr, me? Nah. *wink*
However, oddly enough, when I give to friends, I do what I preach.
If I talk about extending a hand or a hello, I act on what I say.
If I say I'll come over, I'll come over.
If I haven't seen someone in a super long time, I'll make sure I try and see them as often as possible when I can.
If I say I'll do "x, y, z" for them or call them if I haven't seen them in a while, no matter how chaotic my life is, I'll call.
If I don't have much to give, then I'll be honest in the blink of an eye and email/call/text "Hey, I'm busted. I'll give you a shout soon. Thinking of you."
Do I expect a constant barrage of "hey, how's it going"s? Not at all. But there's a balance, and only the friendship can figure out within itself what balance works. But you start up again right where you left off, normally, and that's because there's been some contact here and there.
I can count on one hand how many close friends I have that I can trust to give back as much as I give to them. Most of them are men, to be honest. I don't expect it, but a friendship is a two-way street, and it's nice to receive the love. I can give as much as someone needs, but there has to be a point where that other person says "hang on a minute... what's my contribution to this relationship?"
I'm at an age where I'm really tired of pursuing friendships that give nothing back. I'm tired of sounding righteous in my quest to find that friend that gives me time, just like I give them time no matter that I have two kids and a full-time job. It can be upsetting and disappointing. Everyone told me "oh, it all changes when you have kids... you can't find the time, it's hard to manage..".
Bull. There's always time to write a 2-second note to someone to put a smile on their face. Yes, having kids DOES change things. It makes you realise who your true friends really are. And if there's nothing really there, then no sense in wasting time trying to make it work.
Like I said, I'm not perfect in any way, and probably too honest, too pragmatic and too sarcastic to have very many close friends. Maybe I'm a bit weird. Maybe I'm too loud. It's possible I probably give too much, and it makes people retreat a bit. But reaching out is the one quality that I have that's 99% consistent. And after a while, it gets pretty old when there's radio silence on the other end.
Thank you for listening. Please excuse the vitriol, but I think it's a long time coming.
Not that I'm perfect or anything (far from it, as you've seen from the content of this blog). When it comes to my relationship or my family (or even my relationship with myself), I tend to think I can do it all, I can be perfect, and I preach about how to "be". That never goes down well and backfires and I usually laugh at myself whilst swimming around in the abyss of ridiculousness and complication that I stirred up. Martyr, me? Nah. *wink*
However, oddly enough, when I give to friends, I do what I preach.
If I talk about extending a hand or a hello, I act on what I say.
If I say I'll come over, I'll come over.
If I haven't seen someone in a super long time, I'll make sure I try and see them as often as possible when I can.
If I say I'll do "x, y, z" for them or call them if I haven't seen them in a while, no matter how chaotic my life is, I'll call.
If I don't have much to give, then I'll be honest in the blink of an eye and email/call/text "Hey, I'm busted. I'll give you a shout soon. Thinking of you."
Do I expect a constant barrage of "hey, how's it going"s? Not at all. But there's a balance, and only the friendship can figure out within itself what balance works. But you start up again right where you left off, normally, and that's because there's been some contact here and there.
I can count on one hand how many close friends I have that I can trust to give back as much as I give to them. Most of them are men, to be honest. I don't expect it, but a friendship is a two-way street, and it's nice to receive the love. I can give as much as someone needs, but there has to be a point where that other person says "hang on a minute... what's my contribution to this relationship?"
I'm at an age where I'm really tired of pursuing friendships that give nothing back. I'm tired of sounding righteous in my quest to find that friend that gives me time, just like I give them time no matter that I have two kids and a full-time job. It can be upsetting and disappointing. Everyone told me "oh, it all changes when you have kids... you can't find the time, it's hard to manage..".
Bull. There's always time to write a 2-second note to someone to put a smile on their face. Yes, having kids DOES change things. It makes you realise who your true friends really are. And if there's nothing really there, then no sense in wasting time trying to make it work.
Like I said, I'm not perfect in any way, and probably too honest, too pragmatic and too sarcastic to have very many close friends. Maybe I'm a bit weird. Maybe I'm too loud. It's possible I probably give too much, and it makes people retreat a bit. But reaching out is the one quality that I have that's 99% consistent. And after a while, it gets pretty old when there's radio silence on the other end.
Thank you for listening. Please excuse the vitriol, but I think it's a long time coming.
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Habits and confessions of a perfectionist.
You would think that after being married to a Brit, living in London... that I would learn.
But I don't.
I'm a talker. I'm a very emotional, mushy, lets-talk-about-our-feelings kind of person. Always have been. He calls it "too much love". It's in my DNA. I was raised in a touchy-feely house, I was allowed to express my emotions, whatever they were, and it turned me into a person that is an open book. My face says it all. If I'm upset, if I'm sad, if I'm happy, if I'm lying. My eyes read like chapters, my face is the binding.
I don't have many friends here that I'm close to. I have 1, in fact. I have another close friend in the states that I talk to on an almost-daily basis on email, which is lovely- she and I share our lives together and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I talk to my other half.
Poor guy is sometimes bombarded with "oh, I don't know... what if.."s and "I feel a bit cloudy and weepy and clingy and I have PMS"s. I cry from nostalgia about the kids growing up, or about my separation anxiety going back to work. I can spin a bit in my weepiness. It drives him in loops and frustrating circles, because he's not a listener (even though he does listen), a lot of times, he'd rather be a do-er. He wants to help me. To solve the problem and scratch the itch. I've heard most men are, but Brits are much more pragmatic, from my experience. Brits (both men and women) don't talk to each other about their lives/problems/feelings very often in detail. The men put their heads down and keep going, and the women pretend their lives are very organised, sex lives raunchy and kids perfect. They want to get it done and get on with it. Keep Calm and Carry On. That motto courses through their veins.
If I'm being honest, that quality is one of the reasons why I'm in love with my guy.
That being said, I can't reign it in sometimes, and if I don't manage to talk in little bits here and there, once a month it all comes out like a giant volcano, and it can get fiery, and it can get heated, and it can end up with me in tears for absolutely no reason whatsoever other than just plain frustration and defeat.
Habits need to be broken, considering I'm in my 30s and should know better. I've said this many times. But it's the one habit that I can't seem to manage very well. If I'm eating well and not so tired and taking my vitamins, then I'm fine. But caffeine, exhaustion from my 2 babies and a sparse diet can take its toll on me. I point the finger at other women and think "See? they have it together. They get it all done with a smile on their face and skip in their step, what's wrong with me? Why am I so rubbish at that? Why can't I just let go and relax for a minute?" But they're probably saying the same thing about the woman next to them.
I'm still learning. I still feel like a kid in my head who's scared of the world sometimes and that people won't like her. And then alternately like this organised, happy, capable woman that is married to her dream guy and has 2 amazingly clever kids.
Maybe this will never change, and I'll always be a bit of a contradictory, eccentric nutcase. I just have to figure out how to dust myself off a bit quicker and look at the brighter bits.
But I don't.
I'm a talker. I'm a very emotional, mushy, lets-talk-about-our-feelings kind of person. Always have been. He calls it "too much love". It's in my DNA. I was raised in a touchy-feely house, I was allowed to express my emotions, whatever they were, and it turned me into a person that is an open book. My face says it all. If I'm upset, if I'm sad, if I'm happy, if I'm lying. My eyes read like chapters, my face is the binding.
I don't have many friends here that I'm close to. I have 1, in fact. I have another close friend in the states that I talk to on an almost-daily basis on email, which is lovely- she and I share our lives together and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I talk to my other half.
Poor guy is sometimes bombarded with "oh, I don't know... what if.."s and "I feel a bit cloudy and weepy and clingy and I have PMS"s. I cry from nostalgia about the kids growing up, or about my separation anxiety going back to work. I can spin a bit in my weepiness. It drives him in loops and frustrating circles, because he's not a listener (even though he does listen), a lot of times, he'd rather be a do-er. He wants to help me. To solve the problem and scratch the itch. I've heard most men are, but Brits are much more pragmatic, from my experience. Brits (both men and women) don't talk to each other about their lives/problems/feelings very often in detail. The men put their heads down and keep going, and the women pretend their lives are very organised, sex lives raunchy and kids perfect. They want to get it done and get on with it. Keep Calm and Carry On. That motto courses through their veins.
If I'm being honest, that quality is one of the reasons why I'm in love with my guy.
That being said, I can't reign it in sometimes, and if I don't manage to talk in little bits here and there, once a month it all comes out like a giant volcano, and it can get fiery, and it can get heated, and it can end up with me in tears for absolutely no reason whatsoever other than just plain frustration and defeat.
Habits need to be broken, considering I'm in my 30s and should know better. I've said this many times. But it's the one habit that I can't seem to manage very well. If I'm eating well and not so tired and taking my vitamins, then I'm fine. But caffeine, exhaustion from my 2 babies and a sparse diet can take its toll on me. I point the finger at other women and think "See? they have it together. They get it all done with a smile on their face and skip in their step, what's wrong with me? Why am I so rubbish at that? Why can't I just let go and relax for a minute?" But they're probably saying the same thing about the woman next to them.
I'm still learning. I still feel like a kid in my head who's scared of the world sometimes and that people won't like her. And then alternately like this organised, happy, capable woman that is married to her dream guy and has 2 amazingly clever kids.
Maybe this will never change, and I'll always be a bit of a contradictory, eccentric nutcase. I just have to figure out how to dust myself off a bit quicker and look at the brighter bits.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
17,520 hours
Since the first hour that I met her.
My days are filled with a profound joy to have her as a daughter, but a sweet sadness and nostalgia wind their way through the days like a gold thread. It's a subtle and very slow process, but she's growing up. The legs are longer, the face more understanding and clever, the hands push me away as she is fiercely determined to do more on her own.
"No, Mamo. No, please. Me. Mine. Do it."
She will be more beautiful and more clever than anyone I will ever know, and I'm so grateful that I can share my life with her and help her be the person that she wants to be.
My days are filled with a profound joy to have her as a daughter, but a sweet sadness and nostalgia wind their way through the days like a gold thread. It's a subtle and very slow process, but she's growing up. The legs are longer, the face more understanding and clever, the hands push me away as she is fiercely determined to do more on her own.
"No, Mamo. No, please. Me. Mine. Do it."
She will be more beautiful and more clever than anyone I will ever know, and I'm so grateful that I can share my life with her and help her be the person that she wants to be.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Been a while.
Well, here I am back to writing again.
I've been hiding, in a way, because I haven't had the creative and sarcastic spark that I normally do, and thus I found that sitting in front of a blank screen would make me feel a bit silly. Vacant. A time-waster.
Autumn has descended in the UK in the typical fashion: a week ago it was balmy, Indian Summer bliss. Warm enough to watch the sun set in shorts and a tank top, my hair scraped back from having gone swimming at the local marina with the kids and my other half.
Today, well... today came at us like a bitch slap. It was windy. Crisp. Grey. Cold enough to make me run to find my favourite black knee-length puffy coat with high collar, before going out to the park with the kids. Cold enough to have me dig out thick tights and sweaters for L to start wearing. Cold enough that when we all got back inside the house, the warmth and coziness was welcome relief from the adventures that we took and the running and laughing that we did, with abandon. The rug welcomed us as I laid down on it, with the kids on top of me, using me as their favourite beanbag.
It was a day where it would've been very easy to stay inside and do puzzles and watch Tangled (new favourite film of mine and L's). But no, I made it an imperative to do a no-TV day (much to her dismay) and instead bundled them up and discovered what the day had in store. Cold and runny noses, orange and gold fallen leaves, snacks al fresco. I even made it a project, and after collecting leaves and learning about shapes that naturally occur in nature, we headed home, stuck leaves on paper and painted them.
It was amazing that a day without an easy crutch (which I admit sometimes I use too much of) was a day spent learning, gazing, laughing and finding the joy in the sparkle of something unexpected.
I start work in November, and today I was eternally grateful that I hadn't gone back to work yet, so that I could really appreciate this day and what it gave us.
I haven't felt this happy in a long time. It's been a while.
I've been hiding, in a way, because I haven't had the creative and sarcastic spark that I normally do, and thus I found that sitting in front of a blank screen would make me feel a bit silly. Vacant. A time-waster.
Autumn has descended in the UK in the typical fashion: a week ago it was balmy, Indian Summer bliss. Warm enough to watch the sun set in shorts and a tank top, my hair scraped back from having gone swimming at the local marina with the kids and my other half.
Today, well... today came at us like a bitch slap. It was windy. Crisp. Grey. Cold enough to make me run to find my favourite black knee-length puffy coat with high collar, before going out to the park with the kids. Cold enough to have me dig out thick tights and sweaters for L to start wearing. Cold enough that when we all got back inside the house, the warmth and coziness was welcome relief from the adventures that we took and the running and laughing that we did, with abandon. The rug welcomed us as I laid down on it, with the kids on top of me, using me as their favourite beanbag.
It was a day where it would've been very easy to stay inside and do puzzles and watch Tangled (new favourite film of mine and L's). But no, I made it an imperative to do a no-TV day (much to her dismay) and instead bundled them up and discovered what the day had in store. Cold and runny noses, orange and gold fallen leaves, snacks al fresco. I even made it a project, and after collecting leaves and learning about shapes that naturally occur in nature, we headed home, stuck leaves on paper and painted them.
It was amazing that a day without an easy crutch (which I admit sometimes I use too much of) was a day spent learning, gazing, laughing and finding the joy in the sparkle of something unexpected.
I start work in November, and today I was eternally grateful that I hadn't gone back to work yet, so that I could really appreciate this day and what it gave us.
I haven't felt this happy in a long time. It's been a while.
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