12th February.

Eight years ago today, my husband asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes.

We’ve both changed a lot since then. I think I’ve softened a little towards romance. I hope so anyway. Back then I openely scoffed at all things lovey-dovey, including public displays of affection. So I have to admit that the idea of starting a relationship two days before the supposed ‘most romantic day of the year’ filled me with the tempation to put it off a week. But I didn’t do that and thought maybe a card would be ok. I even made him one I think. Probably because I lived a good walk from town.

The 14th rolled up and I was hanging out at my house when my housemates started shrieking. Not sure if my guy-housemate or girl-housemate shrieked louder. Apparently my new fella had been spotted just outside with a Rose (and possibly a box of chocolates – R, can you verify this?). He left it at the door, rang the door bell and legged it to hide round the corner. Not sure why. Our newly established relationship status removed much of the mystery. But here’s when my popularity will wane. I refused to go to the door and open it. Don’t ask me why. I just didn’t wat to play the game. I was embarrassed that someone was lavishing attention on me. I was reduced to the maturity of a spoilt four year old. I honestly don’t remember if I did eventually go to the door or If one of my housemates put R out of his misery and claimed the Rose from the doorstop.

R, thankyou for your patience.

I can’t help but wonder if I’d encourage such sweetness earlier on, if I’d have more roses on my doorstep from the man I love.

So yes, I’d like to think I’m not so much the hard-girl now. Though I’m still not fussed at all with Feb 14th. I think for every individual who will be happy with the outcome of valentine’s day there’ll be more people experiencing an amplified feeling of rejection and lonliness. And that’s not a world I’d choose to have my girls grow up in. I’m all for kind gestures and romance (nowdays!) and making people feel loved and appreciated, but why just 1 in 365 days?

Having a special date just a couple days before valentine’s gives me the excuse to reject it on personal terms without appearing the tight spoil sport. So for that R, good timing!

R, Having been in bed vomitting for three days, I’ve not been able to do anything romantic for you. So please accept the nausea that I feel while writing this as a love offering! I love you with all that I am. 32 Baby x

What a week.

It’s been quite a week. I started my new job on Monday. That in itself would have been enough to make the week crazy. It’s going to be a big adjustment working each day through the week, albeit mostly half days, but I still fear it will dominate my week. I know you who work full time will scoff at this, but each day juggling work, two pres-schoolers (who are with me when I’m not in work), housework/laundry and other responsibilities is something that I havn’t quite got my head around. My time is not my own.

As it happened I was out monday evening and tuesday evening and so by then I was sitting on my sofa in tears, knowing I couldn’t keep up with that pace. So I managed to step away from the responsibilities I normally have on a wednesday evening to give me a breather. At least I could sit down by 8pm then. Even the busiest week can generally be juggled if all is well, but if another ball is thrown in, then it can all come crashing down. Our extra ball was a sickness bug.

On Wednesday poor Chloe was dashing to the toilet but seemed to recover by tea time. Phew. Little did I know she and her sister had a little tag-team plan going on. After tea Ruby threw up and continued to do so through the night and through Thursday…And through Friday…And through Saturday. To be fair the sickness has slowed down, but only for very sloppy nappies to be added to the mix.

My poor lamb is a floppy rag doll, I’ve not seen her this poorly before. The doctor saw her Friday morning and gave her a couple of hours to pick up and hold down some fluids. That, she just about did, and even picked up a bit. We’re still waiting for her to stop being sick completely and for her to have her ‘Rubiness’ fully restored, but for now we’ll enjoy the cuddles and make the most of her being stationary.

We’re having a lazy Saturday. My favourite kind. Especially on a damp foggy day like today. I headed upstairs to get some dirty clothes ready to stick in the washing machine and seeing the bulging laundry basket, realised how far behind I’ve got with all things domestic.

Feminist Faye Weldon has been said to suggest that you can have a social life and Work, or you can work and have children, or you can have children and a social life, but you can’t have all three. As loathed as I am to agree, I think I have to, at least to some degree. My husband and I are very much involved in the church that we’re part of and we oversee a Young Adults Ministry. Rob is also assistant pastor and I have several other commitments there. And so on top of us both working and having two pre-schoolers (who are yet to give us good quality sleep), we’re also (joyfully, I must insert) busy with other things. We are forever walking that tightrope of life-balance. Reflecting on it, I wish we could hang out with friends more too.

I’m not happy to lie down and accept that it’s simply not possible. This is because I’m not willing to let go of time with my family and time with my church and friends (and I’m not able to let go of my work, hmph!). So what do I do? I guess it’s a matter of persistance, dusting yourself off when business overwhelmes and trying again, with compromises (there will be times when I have to say no to stuff, and I don’t get to hang out with mates) and being organised.

Only thing is, I just need a little bit of time for some organisation and then it’s all good…

Angry lady.

I’m angry lady right now. I wasn’t until an hour ago and give me some minutes to vent and I will resume the persona of cheery lady.

Soft play does not bring out the best in me. That is why I got Ruby ready and hit our local torture house early. Too early it turned out. I arrived an hour before it opened so we popped home for a while and returned at 10am. Still cool and collected, we walk in…and. it. is. heaving. Apparently Sure start thought it was a great idea to arrange an early entrance for a million screaming toddlers. Deep breath. I could handle this. This was for Ruby. So off we went and played for a while. I’m sure Ruby took pleasure in watching me continually leap in front of her to buffer her, as she hurled herself from the top of slides.

So after half an hour I thought maybe it was a good time to steer Ruby towards the younger part so I could breathe normally again. Then it all went down hill. It was pretty crowded (as was everywhere else) and this little boy caught my eye. Lets call him, for story’s sake, Damien. So this little damien-boy got my attention because he walked past another little boy, glanced at him and just grabbed his hair in a death grip. I’m not sure if the poor little victim-boy wriggled free or damien-boy gor bored of the torture but the poor little victim boy ran away crying. Now I wasn’t taking my eye of Damien-child. I continued to follow ruby around and we came up close to Damien Child. Ruby was looking at something else, and again, wasn’t in the way of Damien-child, but his scaly little claw reached out towards my baby’s head. But ha! I was too fast. Also, this time, his mother happened to make an appearance and I grabbed Damien-child’s hand just ask his talons were wrapping around Ruby’s hair. ‘Mother’ happened to turn around and stepped towards us, picking Damien-child up. I was bracing myself to be gracious to the apology and watch the fireworks to be aimed at Damien-Child. But nothing. She didn’t say anything. To me or Damien-child. She didn’t do anything. She just picked him up, walked a few steps away and put him down to go play again. A few minutes later Ruby was at the other side with another little boy and Damien walks over and grabs this boy’s hair. ‘Mother’ was standing chatting to other women and I was left comforting poor-little-victim-boy-number-two. I managed to catch a lady’s eye and asked if she knew who poor-little-victim-boy-number-two was with. Turns out he was with her and she looked mortified at her son’s distress. Within seconds she looked at Damien-child and worked out what had happened. Now was the time to get outta there. I took Ruby over to our table so Ruby could have her snack before we left and within minuted low and behold, more screams. I looked up and a different woman was peeling Damien-child off of another child, poor-little-victim-child-number-three (bearing in mind that Ruby avoided becoming poor little victim girl because of my speedy, animalistic reactions). The lady bent down towards Damien-child and took something out of his hand; a huge clump of fuzzy blonde hair. Said lady carried little boy over to his mum and handed mum the handful of hair. ‘Mother’ picked up on the commotion and took Damien-child away from the middle of it. In fairness, at least she clued up and decided enough was enough by then and left with Damien-child.

I have a very adventurous child. I have had my share of times when I feel out of control and embarrassed around other people. I hate it when people – particularly women get together and criticise other mum’s parenting styles. But COME ON!!!!!

Wakey wakey rise and shine

Last Autumn I almost looked forward to the dark evenings rolling in, and moreso the dark mornings. Normally I can’t stand dark mornings. Why would you like anything that makes you feel like you’re getting up to start your day in the middle of the night? But if there was one thing that was going to help my little insomniacs it would be dark mornings. They may even sleep until we have to get up… No such luck. Throughout the winter so far the girls, particularly Roo has been full of beans in the dark of the night (morning) and has stuck to her 5ish (if we’re lucky) wakeups (after restless nights). So I have mixed feelings about the mornings slowly becoming lighter in the coming months.

The girls are just about getting used to sharing a room. We tried putting them to bed together at the same time a few weeks ago. chlo did really well, wrapped her duvet around her and got her head down. Ruby, however did not. In fact she got out of bed, positioned herself right in front of her big sister and wiggled her bottom and spun around to her hearts content. Chloe fell asleep in our bed that night.

Roo’s new trick is to jump out of bed, on waking, and throw things at Chloe until chloe too, is awake. yesterday it was a book. This morning we cleared away all possible thowing objects, and so out of all other options, resorted to throwing herself and her sister, climbing up and lying on top of her until we heard the desperate yelps of our oldest daughter. Maybe room sharing wasn’t such a great idea…

What Am I?

Today I finished my current job. After eight years of training and work, I am no longer a young people’s worker. In a week and a half I will become a children and family worker. So what does that make me now? What Am I?

The question has left me feeling unnerved.

Too often we define ourselves by what we do. By what we have. But what happens if you lose that? What happens if you can longer do what you do? Or what happens if you lose what you possess? How does that change you as person?

I am blessed in that I left one job because there was something better for me to move onto. But what happens if this wasn’t the case? What if I’d lost my job with nothing immediate to move onto? Over the last year or so, this has been the circumstance of many. I’d like to think that my job is not what makes me me. I’d like to think who I am is what makes me me. And when I say who I am, I don’t mean “do you know who I am?” kind of thing. I don’t attach status to that but character.

How do you want people to see you? By what you are or by who you are? What you are can be taken away from you. Who you are is controlled only by you. That is what makes you you.

So maybe I’m asking the wrong question. Perhaps I should be asking who am I?

Magnet to mayhem.

I was glancing over old posts and came across one in March called “Ruby Ruby Ruby!”. Not much has changed in nine months. If anything there is much more potential for disaster when this little girl is around. She possesses a very definite michievious streak and is sometimes just too quick for me.

Not long ago I took her into the pharmacist to collect some prescriptions, stood up to sign the form and she had fully cleared a shelf. I moved her away from said shelf to deal with the carnage and she just started on another. In my defence, my reaction time was impaired due to ill health!

Yesterday she was needing the love and so I was carrying her around the kitchen – as we passed a glass on the side she lunged, grabbed it and threw it to the floor. Broken glass. Everywhere. Much to her delight.

These are not isolated incidents. This is Ruby.

Ruby’s not doing too bad bunking in with Chloe, but I’m not sure what kind of influence Ruby is having on her big sister. I think my obedient and sensible girl is being led astray…

I recently text my mother in law asking how Ruby was getting on at hers and her reply was “Ruby is being Ruby”. And that sums it all up. She’s not malicious, she’s not stroppy or moody. She’s just Ruby. Maybe they’ll redifine the word in addition to the description of the red gemstone:

ru-by [roo-bee].
noun
1. a red variety of corundum, used as a gem.

Adj.
1. a magnet to mahem. She’s such a Ruby

Grace Hannah Boyd.

Yesterday we reached one of my anticipated highlights of the year. H gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl at 5.15am and by 3pm I was in hospital giving her a cuddle.I felt so privileged. Thankyou Charlotte for making that possible, you’re awesome! I’ve never seen such a fresh baby apart from my own. Less than ten hours old. the whole event threw me and consumed my thougts. From the previous night when H text to say contractions were coming every three minutes, I was filled with excitement and worry in equal measures. When the new daddy, S phoned me yesterday morning I was so relieved I started crying. what a wuss. And when I opened the hospital room door, the tears returned as I saw my friend with her daughter. I was overwhelmed how these two people had suddenly transformed into parents, H so calm, S so confident with his tiny bundle and both quite literally gushing with pure joy.

H, you are a shining example to all women.

Welcome to the world Grace, I can’t wait to get to know you.