...because Mocha Beanie Mummy done got new digs :D

Though I will leave this blog open (because I'd like to think I still own it a little), you will find all future posts over at my own domain (OWN DOMAIN. Just the very words so sexy).

If you read down this far then YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN REDIRECTED BY NOW!

Go to http://www.mochabeaniemummy.com/ or http://www.mochabeaniemummy.co.uk/ - they both take you to the same place. If you're getting odd maintenance pages or IP pages, clear your cache/internet history and then try again.

So see you later, blogger, and go and say hello Mocha Beanie Mummy in my (read that, "MY") shiny new little world.

Cheers blogger, it's been fun.
Labels: , , Comments | Links to this post | edit post
Yes yes, I know it's still 2 days to go, but seriously


I have my clothes sorted, I have my moo cards, train tickets are sorted (travelling 1st class there and back thanks to D!!! xxxx), conference tickets printed, hotel room booked, taking camera, lenses, MacBook Pro, iPhone and I am READY.

To all those who are going, I know that many people feel a bit funny about having their picture taken. I'm not official photographer for the day, but I'm hoping to get some half decent pics that could possibly be used by Cybermummy; if you ABSOLUTELY under NO CIRCUMSTANCES want to appear in ANY PICS at all, then please just let me know (politely!!) and I'll try not to catch you...though surely you'd want to be seen to be part of one of the UK's biggest blogging events so far :D

Go and visit the Cybermummy website for more info, including live blogging, tweeting and other regular updates.

I'll be tweeting and twitpic-ing throughout the day all being well; you're welcome to follow my tweet stream, just go to http://twitter.com/cosmicgirlie/ to see what I'm up too; expect possible drunken tweeting in the evening...

If you're going, please don't forget to come and say hi!
Labels: Comments | Links to this post | edit post
A moment of peace.

I never felt it before. I didn't know what it was. Things have been silenced, and suddenly I hear everything.

The voice has stopped; other noises come through. Do I recognise these noises? Vaguely. I couldn't hear them so well before. I couldn't hear how much Noah's kisses meant, when he would stroke my arm and rest his head on my shoulder. I couldn't hear the volume in Isaac's cuddles and sighs on my lap, when he would snuggle against me and gaze into my eyes.

"It's ok Mummy. There's a lot of noise Mummy. Can you hear us Mummy? We're still here Mummy.

It's ok, Mummy."

I can hear them now, and I feel overpowering love for my boys.

A moment of peace.

Just a moment.

Like the sun, it can fill every void. Like the very sky above us, it feels like it could go on for ever. I couldn't look into it before. The shadows consumed me; my depression made it easy to turn my back on the bright blue sky, look away from the energy-giving sun.

I look to the sun now and bathe in it's brightness. I turn to the light and I smile. A true, rich smile. Things I have never been able to do before. I absorb the energy; I gain strength.

I am filled with hope. I am content.


This post was written for Tara Cain's "The Gallery" and Josie George's "Writing Workshop"; please do go and visit to see more fabulous posts.
Labels: , , , Comments | Links to this post | edit post
Remember when I said Noah was due to go for speech therapy? And we finally had an appointment come through? And the speech therapist came? And she was lucky to leave the house alive without being stabbed in the neck? By me AND D? No? Did I not mention that?

Well allow me to divulge.

She came and brought along a buddy, ST#2 who was to watch and learn how to use the camcorder.

Yes, how to use the camcorder.

ST#1 was to film each of us interacting with Noah for 5 mins to see where we were going wrong.

Yes, where WE were going wrong.

I never felt such immediate hostility in all my days and wanted to stab her immediately, all the while saying "It's not you, it's your attitude".

In those 5 minutes, we were to behave completely normally as we do with Noah, not play up to the camera, completely ignore her and pretend she wasn't there. Yeah, of course, because Noah was REALLY up for ignoring ST#2 sitting on the sofa and a camera shoved in his face.

So I went first, D took Isaac out the room, she filmed. Now, if I were to REALLY do what comes naturally, I'd have left Noah to his own devices, picked up my MacBook or phone, and gone on twitter.

Then we swapped over; I took Isaac out and D played with him.

She then brought us back together to sit and watch what we had done. Nothing like being scrutinized within 15 minutes of her being in the house.

As I said, I should obviously have picked up my phone or MacBook. No. Instead I asked him what he wanted to play with, suggesting things to do.


This is leading him and results in him not being able to express himself.

He pointed to a tiger on a piece of paper. I asked him what it was, he said (in his own way) "tiger". I asked him what it says, he said "ROARRR".


This is asking him empty questions; if I know he knows the answer then I don't need to ask him any questions.

During D's turn, they played a bit of rough and tumble. D asked him if he wanted a dinosaur to play with as he seemed to be getting tired.


This is directing his free play. There was no need to introduce a new toy and Noah should be completely in charge of what he wants to do. Even though Noah was happy to have the dinosaur.

D asked him if he wanted to introduce another dinosaur as we know he likes to make the two roar together.


Directed play, deviating from his current interest. There was no need to introduce a second toy.

While we were watching ourselves be really uncomfortable, Noah asked for something and I gave it to him, prompting him to say "thank you".


This is focus on a non-important part of his language and development. We don't need to concentrate on his manners; please and thank yous are not important at this stage and will most likely lead to bad habits.

After we finished watching the video, which was like being sent to hell on a razor blade, we had to fill in forms about how we could do better to help Noah speak, and what areas we need to work on until she comes back. Which I think is in two days. This all happened about 2 weeks ago.

Neither D nor I have picked up the sheets; at the moment I don't even know where they are. Down the back of the sofa, possibly. She then went on to (repeatedly) instigate that Noah wasn't speaking because we were forcing him too hard, and that he would speak when he was ready. Also, that at this stage it isn't the quality of his speech to worry about, it's the quantity.

ST#2 made a point of saying "well he's been interacting with me and I understand him fine!"

Seriously. Stabby McStabberson in the hizzouse.

Interestingly, I thought maybe it was just me being hypersensitive. But when I looked over at D, I realised he'd been quiet for some time, and the look on his face spoke everything I needed to hear. He was NOT impressed. And everyone else we've spoken to about the appointment have also said they reckon it was a load of bollocks.

The bright side? I spoke to Noah's nursery about it. They were horrified and told me they have a SENCo who can advise us on mouth muscle exercises and help him form his words correctly. They're impressed by his intelligence to communicate, and once they understand the various words, can't get over how good his vocabulary is. But like us, they agree that his formation of words, his pronunciations are way behind. And so they're willing to help and do what works best for Noah.

I didn't think it would be this hard. But at least we still have our own fun.

Labels: , , Comments | Links to this post | edit post
Something...REALLY amazing happened today.

Actually, SEVERAL amazing things happened today, and I'm hoping my instincts and all don't screw me over in the next 24 - 48 hours.

A few days ago, I felt like I had no choice but to post "Conversations". I hear a Voice, The Voice, in my head, pretty much all the time. 24/7/365. I've heard it since I can ever remember; I became aware of it around the age of 13 or 14, and it took on a whole new strength when I was around 19 when my depression hit level 10 on the Richter Scale.

For a long time I wondered if I was schizophrenic; I had no desire to think these things, so it couldn't possibly be my voice, right? Why would I do that to myself? I argue with it daily and I'm constantly worn down by it; I have no way of changing it, but only to make it a little quieter some days. Those are good days.

Anyway, this Voice has plagued me for years, has pushed me to overdose on medication, has encouraged me to repeatedly try to take my own life, has destroyed much of the awesomeness I felt I could have become. It was the voice that convinced me to put my cello down, to never pick it up, to sell everything on eBay, and to not consider anything else. It was the voice who drove me to be the opposite of what I wanted to be.

So when I wrote Conversations, I had pretty much had enough. I was tired, it had been a difficult day, and the Voice had been plaguing me hard all day. What I wrote, was only a tiny snippet, and I didn't have the courage or strength to write the full force of what it says, or had been saying that day. Or even in that hour after D went to work.

But I had to get some of it out; I felt like my head might actually explode and melt and die, all at the same time.

And then people commented.

And it was surprising, because whilst I guess I knew people would comment, I was still cynical about what they would say. And then people responded more. Not just on my post in the comments, but on twitter too.

And then came more.

Then came blog posts. And I was so moved, so touched, so flattered. But I still couldn't see what was so special.

And then today, something...I don't even know. It felt like the impossible happened.

I suddenly had a flurry of emails, telling me I'd had maybe 10 new comments on that post alone, in a very short space of time. "What is this? Is someone spamming me? Why would they do that?"

And then I started reading the comments. And I was lost for words. I couldn't work out where they were coming from, and strangely enough, my first instinct was to thank whoever was sending these people to my blog. I checked Analytics, I checked feedjit, I tried not to panic. How could so many people I don't even know be so amazing all at the same time? It just doesn't happen. Why would they care? About me? How could they care about me?

And then, a lovely stranger by the name of @DaydreamFreak on twitter sent this out:

@cosmicgirlie If you want to thank someone thank @ItStartsWithUs for sending the email with a link to your blog post to the Love Bomb group.
It was out of the blue, but it lead me to find Nate St. Pierre, someone who, quite frankly, I wish I had met and spoken to years ago. He leads a group called It Starts With.Us, and my post was "subjected" to a Love Bomb.

Which is something that I think should happen to way, WAY MORE people.

It was amazing.

I'm very rarely moved. I'm very rarely fueled by other people's emotions.

But that post, of all the posts I've written over the last three years? I've never been so glad I wrote it. Not because it meant I got (at last count) 76 comments. I was already thrilled with the response before the Love Bomb.


It was because of two things, both of which I'm almost scared to say out loud because I don't want it to end.

The first: I've reached people. I've helped people. In writing Conversations, I've (unknowingly) put my neck out to help others, to show others they're not alone. People have reciprocated so much that they've let me know I am not alone too. I urge you to read the post, and if you can relate in the slightest way? Then please, please, read the comments. Because I know they will help you too. And if they don't? Please write to me. Tell me. I want to help you.

The second: for the first time, in as long as I can ever remember, in maybe 8 years of making noise inside my head, and longer with me not knowing what it was...


The Voice?

Has been silent.

Right now, I'm crying. With happiness.

I don't care if it's back tomorrow, that's ok. I know there's hope. I know it's out there, somewhere.

So, thank you, all of you, every one of you who has contacted me in any way, for helping me find a moment of true peace.
Labels: , Comments | Links to this post | edit post