P.Y.O.

IMG_5391
Yesterday we went picking. We harvested great big lung fulls of fresh air and caught sun on our faces (as well as berry juice and mud if you’re Sammy).

Living in the country is something we’ve been thinking a lot about lately. Whilst I’m a city girl through and through, Jon misses the sea and his stories of surfing before school make me long for Sammy to have the same. Continue reading “P.Y.O.”

P.Y.O.

One

cute first birthday party kawaii bear cake for buddy and bear A year happened Sammy W! A year of you and me and your papa. Hanging out and getting the hang. You’re 13 months already. Well, more like 14. What have I missed? You’re crawling fast and can stand now. We bought your first shoes last week. A 4.5F. You’re a climbing fiend; scaling great heights as soon as my back’s turned. You get upstairs in an instant. Behind your walker you toddle like a drunken cowboy. Can I remember a time before being your mama? Not really. Not properly. Just a time when I thought this would never ever, ever happen. I’d never get one to keep. Continue reading “One”

One

A way of life

12 months old
I’ve been away from this a while. Sammy’s first birthday flew past, as have probably a lot of the things I wanted to remember. But that’s ok. Motherhood is in full force. The adventure’s now a way of life… the heavy eyes, the heart-bursting delights and the slight bewilderment are still there, but they are the every day. Juggling is the norm and the best I can do is enough. I hope. Things will never be like they were before Sammy. The perfectionist has had to drop the act and try to acknowledge her achievements each day. The house might be begging for a scrub, it may have been weeks since I’ve eaten a proper lunch besides the scraps Sammy has discarded, but it doesn’t matter. Time has never been so precious.

So I’m not cross at myself for neglecting this space.

Continue reading “A way of life”

A way of life

Wobbles

Shucks. I had written a post the other night but apparently drafts don’t save on the WordPress app.

My little boy is seven and a half months old. I have no idea how many weeks anymore; I lost count at thirty when life got really busy. It sort of feels like we had a bit of a tricky time for a while, where I was trying not to sink. There was so much to do, people to please and hideous hormones flying all over the place. My self esteem was low. I don’t know if I’m the only one, but I found the last few months way, way harder than the newborn stage (yikes, I’m sure I’ll laugh at how easy this stage was at the next. We haven’t hit teething yet. Fool!). The early days came naturally though. Sammy would sleep and whilst he did suffer from some tummy pain, he’d never scream relentlessly. Yes, there were times where I’d call my mum in desperate sobs for help. But that was more often than not because the state of the house was getting to me (how does a floor get so filthy?). More recently, it didn’t seem so easy. Continue reading “Wobbles”

Wobbles