Quetzalcoatl

Here comes the slow part of the year. I remember it so well as we were planning a new vegetable patch in our old garden last year. Yes, our old garden. For the first time in ten years, we have moved. People around us know how important this new home is to us. It's made us feel more grounded than ever before, the children are finally free in their big garden of dreams, and the house we live in feels like home.  It's a two bed bungalow. When people visit and see it, they can't believe it's a two bed bungalow but it really is. We can expand here; grow old here. We have an attic space with round windows to work in. We have a garage we will convert to a teenager escape. We have a spare office space we'll turn into Rosie's little room. I've got a craft cottage and an old concrete room with a kiln in. We've put the wood in there from three trees so far (one fell, two chopped down by Oscar's friend). But there's an awful lot of care this place needs. We...

This post has been writing itself for years. These three phrases or ideas being played within my mind whilst navigating the intense period of our lives where we bring up our three little girls. I'm writing today, sat on our breakfast bar, in the tidiest house we've ever had since our first baby. Our third baby is asleep. Our other two are at Nanny's for their half term sleepover. I'm trying not to miss them.  The house is immaculate because we're selling. We're selling the house that we brought them up in, we're selling the house I gave birth in, the house we have made the strongest memories of our lives. It's time to move on. We have done everything we can to this property and I need to slowly detach myself. We've outgrown it. Our lives are bigger than it. We're bursting at the seams and we need another home to hold us and create new memories - for the next chapter. sac·ri·fice [ˈsakrɪfʌɪs] 1. give up something that is valuable to you in order t...

Today. What a day. I've had two cancer scares in one year. Within that year I've given birth and lost 3.2L blood in a post birth haemorrhage. That's enough now. That's plenty of death warnings. During pregnancy, I had a small lump on my arm like a raised mole checked - it was a suspected melanoma so they removed removed it when Rosie was 3 months as they didn't want me to handle the anaesthetic while pregnant. Instead, I put up with the threat of it during birth and it was a shadow.  Now, at nearly 9 months, I have a swollen thyroid. I've been told that my thyroid is a spongiform texture and they are happy with it. It's been worrying us for 3 weeks. But they found some darker cells beneath. Those darker cells are lurking there. Waiting to see if they're going to pounce or stay benign. In a year, I'll have a scan again to see how they're growing. I didn't know I'd have to be facing all this at 35. It's strange but it's also helped ...

Every day I learn a little bit more about having three children. Every day they frustrate me but I’m in awe and so proud most days. Today, I’ve dropped off two children to two separate schools while the baby sleeps in the car. It’s all about timing.   We’re used to it now. The weekend comes and the baby naps totally differently. A bit like us, I suppose. I’m learning that every stage goes so quickly but also lingers so long because you want it to end but equally you never want it to end. Motherhood is one big oxymoron. I’ve been thinking this morning about how different I am as a mother at 35 compared 30. I dread certain things because I know how hard it is breastfeeding exclusively. It is more exhausting now than it ever has been. The nights are easier. It’s the day. I want to do more than play on the floor all day. My mind is craving more now. Being in baby/toddler mode for so long takes its toll. My skin is getting slacker. It’s getting loose. I can feel myself aging. It’...

7th April 2020 My Grandad has just passed away during the night. He was the most incredible man. He collects and keeps all the keepsakes of his life that he made with my Nanny in a little room. It was his office and we used to sit and talk to him. His black leather chair was getting all crinkled and dry. He loved being in there, surrounded by his life. Every pen, every notebook, every photo, every newspaper cutting, burst out of drawers and folders. I'm not even sure what colours the walls were. His name was Ronald Smith. I loved him very much, even if he did tell my sister and I to turn off Fresh Prince of Bel Air on the channel called Trouble. We loved it because he had Sky. But he'd only watch the news and sport. When we were younger, we thought the telly he watched was so boring. No wonder Nanny had to knit, do the crossword, cuddle us, and escape to the jacuzzi. Now, I would do anything to sit and watch a rugby or cricket match with him. Most evenings, when we were y...

One of my friends said to me last week that January is for organising. She's a vegetable gardener. More will follow about this later, but currently, I'm upstairs in our bedroom after a very average sleep.  --- I managed the above three sentences before I was interrupted. It's now very common with three little lives that come bursting in on me in the morning. We had to get ready for the school run so off I went to convince them to stand still for more than a few minutes just to get them changed. I rudely interrupted their game of MumandDad. They really have the sweetest games. But this post isn't about 3-4 year old games. As always, I never know where this writing will take me but I have a vague idea and I know that I need to write. So I write.  I'll crack straight on with this first post since March 2024...my mission is to use this blog to write every month. I have showered and dried my hair. Alone. A luxury in this Mum world I'm currently in. It isn't just ...