journey of the mocha bean(s) and mummy

So long, Farewell...

2010-07-02T23:47:00.002+01:00

...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.
xxxx

CYBERMUMMY!!

2010-07-01T11:14:00.003+01:00

Yes yes, I know it's still 2 days to go, but seriously

WHOOOOOOOOO TWO DAYS TO GO UNTIL CYBERMUMMY!!!!!

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!

The Gallery And Workshop: Emotions

2010-06-30T19:18:00.005+01:00

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.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

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.

In Which A Speech Therapist Gets Stabbed.

2010-06-29T09:04:00.008+01:00

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.

EHHH - WRONG.

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".

EHHH - WRONG.

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.

EHHH - WRONG.

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.

EHHH - WRONG.

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".

EHHH - WRONG.

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.

An Explosive Silence

2010-06-24T19:27:00.004+01:00

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.

No.

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...

Today?

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.

The Gallery: Creatures

2010-06-23T14:53:00.004+01:00

Week 16 for Tara Cain's "The Gallery", is creatures. I rarely take a decent animal shot, but then remembered something from a while back.

Whilst waiting for a friend to meet me for lunch at a pub near me a few months back, I grabbed my camera out the car and headed out to a field just around the corner from the pub. I knew there were horses there, sadly I don't think they're very well looked after, but I was pretty sure they were quite friendly.

I was right; one of them came over to pose for the camera.

Turns out he was quite keen to say hello and eye me up. :D

Conversations.

2010-06-20T19:47:00.002+01:00

Why do you bother? No one gives a shit, you know.

Shut up.

Oh come on, seriously. You parade around like you're some kind of big shot but no one cares. They all laugh at you, think you're just a joke.

Please shut up. Stop now.

So what's next? You put some Butterfly Catchers tunes on twitter just cos you played on the tracks, and suddenly you think everyone wants to hear?

But they said -

Who cares what they said? They're just being NICE. You are SHIT.

I just want to play.

Oh for real? Like you can even play? Did you listen to that recording? Did you hear how vile you sounded?

I thought it sounded ok.

Yeah you would, you're so full of yourself.

Why can't you leave me alone?

As if you could cope by yourself? How the hell would you survive? You're so pathetic.

No.

Yes you bloody are, you can't even stop a voice from talking to you in your head.

Yes I can.

No you bloody can't. I've been here for YEARS and still you listen to me, because you're useless. Plain fucking useless.

Leave me alone.

You already ARE alone. You're so alone it's untrue. All those people who you think are your friends? AREN'T. Fact.

Yes they are, they talk to me.

ANYONE can talk to you, you think that makes them your friend? You see how people shit on you and you call them friends? You see how people take advantage of you for years and you still want to call them friends? What kind of loser does that? YOU. Because you ARE a loser.

But they are my friends. They said -

People say all kinds of crap and you already know that. Can't you get over yourself?

I don't think I'm all that.

Yes you bloody do. You spend ages setting up your websites - you think anyone cares? You think anyone is really gonna give a shit what you have to offer?

But people asked me about -

People asked maybe TWICE about stuff. That does not give you the right to think you can impose your views on people.

They don't have to read.

But you want them to, don't you? Because you're such a loser.

No.

Yes you are. You think people would miss you if weren't here?

D would miss me.

No he wouldn't. He'd be so much better off without you. And Noah. And Isaac for that matter. They could all find someone else far better than you.

But I'm their mom. I matter.

No you bloody don't. Look at how you've crapped on D's day today. You managed to sort out 2 cards from the boys and do a cooked breakfast. Yeah, Happy Father's Day, applause to you.

But my back, the pain, it hurts so much and Isaac is poorly -

You have a lame excuse for everything don't you? God you're SO FULL OF IT.

But my back does hurt, it's not my fault Noah had that tantrum, I can't predict how a day will go, I didn't mean to ruin Father's Day.

Ruining things is your skill. You just had to step in and sort Noah out, because you resent him don't you? You can't deal with your frustrations like an adult so you take it out on him.

No I don't. I don't mean to. He's my son, of course I care -

Yeah because you have to. And now you're just crying because you can't face the truth can you? Hurts doesn't it? Truth hurts, doesn't it Jay? Fucking pathetic.

Please leave me alone. I'm just trying to do what's best for him. What's best for all of us. He was being naughty so he had to disciplined. We'd gotten lax with time-outs so we had to re-establish rules.

You know what? You're pretty defensive. Protesting a lot, aren't you? Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?

I'm not trying to convince anyone. Well maybe you...

Oh please. You don't know shit. You're just full of it.

No I know I was right to discipline, I'm sure I was, he was being naughty.

But you couldn't just leave it for tonight, could you? No. You had to put him in time-out leaving an awesomely bitter taste in everyone's mouths, including D. Can't say I blame the guy for going to work, get the hell away from you.

No he really does have work, he's busy.

Yeah. And like your mother spent so much time at church when you were a kid, wasn't to get away from you, she was "busy", right?

Yes, she had a lot of commitments, I mean yeah I missed her but she was busy.

You're so fucking gullible. So naive it's untrue. You should just go. Piss off, no one wants you here, no one cares. Piss off already. Stop thinking you're someone, admit you're no one, and just disappear.

I don't...I'm tired. Please leave me alone now.

You know why you're tired? Because you are WEAK. You can't fight me. You've never been able to fight me. You'll never get me out of your head. I'll be here. Forever. You can't get rid of me. You're so stupid and full of yourself you won't take drugs -

No, I just don't want to go through the hell I went through before -

Bullshit, you can't handle being seen as a failure -

Taking meds for depression isn't failure.

Yes it fucking is, you just can't bare to admit it. And anyway, if it isn't failure, what is it? It's because you're WEAK. And also? I know you're writing this post hoping that you'll get tons of sympathy. I can see through you, you're so fucking transparent.

I just want to get you out of my head. I just want you to leave me alone. I can't coop this up in my head.

Ok you know what? People will leave the sympathy. If you're lucky. And you know what? It will ALL be fake. They'll all be taking pity on you because you're such a fucking loser.

I'm not a loser. Please go away. I'm so tired.

You're tired because you're shit. Just go and quit now. AGAIN. Jesus you can't even fucking quit properly.

I want a break now.

Yeah you quit. Even though you're shit at it. And that's about the only thing you're good at. Failing at quitting. You are just a fucking joke. Fucking loser. Get over yourself.

I...

Yeah. Whatever, just shut the fuck up now.

New Things

2010-06-20T13:15:00.000+01:00

I've been bloody busy, working behind the scenes on some very small but very exciting things. Some of you will know I shed blood, sweat and tears trying to organise my photography site via wordpress. I'd only ever used blogger before, and so I had much to learn.

So when I finally got it set up, and discovered that Wordpress has the answer to all my questions (apart from anything bacon related, mostly) I thought I might try my hand at setting up a photography blog of my own, but geared towards helping others.

I haven't launched it yet because at the moment it's still just a domain name and some very bare, not very pretty bones, and a bag of ideas, which I'm waiting for everyone to point at and go "BWAH HAH HAH HAH!! Jay you are just a cock."

But here's the deal.

Remember a while back when I posted some pics here and you were all "Wtf? How the hell did you do that?"

And I was all "Ah it's easy! I'll do a tutorial!!!"

And then you were like "Ok, go on then."

And I was kinda "uh..."

And then silence?

Yeah well, um, I hadn't forgotten, see, but I was very wary about keeping MBM about my usual boring shit, and it not turning into a photog site.

I mean, ok, there's a shit load of pics, but I mean not that kind of photog site. And anyway, it turns out that some of you (and by some, I mean roughly 2 of you) have questions about how I do some of the stuff I do, including what I do on blipfoto, and various iPhone apps, and other random stuff I post here and there.

Plus, the Mighty Gallery on at Sticky Fingers brought out the hidden photographer in many of you, but I get sad when I see people say "Oh I would post but my pics aren't good enough", or, "it feels like a competition and my pics don't match up to everyone else's standards".

As I'm sure Tara would echo, it's NOT a competition, and I personally love looking at everyone's photos. This (potential) site I'm setting up is only to help you out with the small stuff; I don't claim to have all the answers and know how to do it all! I just want to help a little for those who want to do similar to me.

So...do you have a question? Have you seen something I've posted that you quite liked and wondered "how the hell did she do that?" Or have you taken a pic and are wondering how the hell you can improve it?

Then please get in touch.

Either leave a comment to this post with your question, or drop me an email at: cosmicgirlie(at)gmail(dot)com, or tweet me, or send me a text, or send me a messenger pigeon, or perhaps a telegram.

All being well, the site will go live in time for Cybermummy. :D

Cybermummy - Meet and Greet!!

2010-06-19T16:24:00.004+01:00

Things are hitting fever pitch on twitter and in the blogging community as we get ever closer to Cybermummy 2010, the UK's first mummy blogger conference. And I have to say, even though BlogHer 10 is hot on it's heels, I am SO BLOODY EXCITED for Cybermummy!!

I'm a bit rubbish with the whole "Mommy Blogger" thing (whatever on of those actually is), not being one to review toys, or offer great baby advice, or...whatever, but I'm so looking forward to this because quite simply, my friends will be there and it'll be the best chance to put faces and voices to the MANY blogs I read when I'm ~~avoiding the kids~~ letting the boys get on with playing.

There's loads happening during the Cybermummy conference, though I've a sneaking suspicion that with the permission of Mummy Tips, I'll actually just run around taking maybe a billion pictures since I'll have my camera, photog gear, MacBook Pro and iPhone with me. Ohhhh yes. :D

So a lovely clever blogger by the name of Mummy Shoes has come up with the idea of doing a meet and greet, a bit of information about ourselves and some clues as to who we are.

As if you didn't know already. ;o)

Name: Jay
Blog: http://mochabeaniemummy.com/
Twitter ID: @cosmicgirlie (and @JayMountford if you want the "professional" side)
Height: 5ft 5 and a half. YES, and a half.
Hair: Yes
Eyes: Two
Likes: Bacon. And twitter. And also my camera. Maybe music. Sometimes playing it. My iPhone; it's pretty much glued to my hand. All things Apple. I struggle to walk past Radley and Nica handbags without stopping. And of course, cocktails.

I suspect I'll wear jeans and a smart top of some sort for the daytime, and a rather nice frock of some sort for the evening. Either way, I'll have clothes on.

The Gallery: Motherhood

2010-06-16T10:04:00.006+01:00

For me this has been the hardest gallery post yet. Not because the spectacular lady that is Tara Cain has landed a wonderful opportunity for us Cybermummy and sponsorship from Photobox (and it's a great competition and prize). It's not because I was intimidated by all the other amazing entries, which quite frankly, left me wondering if I was capable.

But because I had no idea how to sum up "motherhood".

Especially in one picture, that I have taken myself.

I've never felt like a mother. Even now, when Noah runs up to me and shouts "Mummeeee!" it still feels like he's talking to someone else.

Isaac toddles over (yes, toddles, the boy is walking in a fashion), and flops himself on me for cuddles. Yet I think he does it just because there's no one else around.

I never had that "special bond" with Noah when he was born; I'm not sure we ever did, and that makes me really sad. Is that why some think I over compensate when it comes to looking after him? Managing his well being? Is it possible to over compensate? I love him, of course I do, but I forever worry that I'm not close enough to him even though I'm his mother. Isaac was a little easier; perhaps the PND wasn't so cruel second time around? He shows nearly as much independence as his brother; they both often just get on with it.

Just the word scares me.

"Motherhood"

I don't think it's about me. It's about them.

It's about throwing them out into the complete open, yet protecting them with nothing but your heart. It's about not knowing what the hell is right around the next corner, yet paving out a path for them to follow and be ok. It's about helping them reach for the skies, yet making sure they stay firmly grounded. It's about being the biggest support they will ever need, but taking a step back and being ready to catch them when they fall.

It's about celebrating them.

Poo Wars

2010-06-15T21:05:00.004+01:00

Noah: *face slightly contorted, turning red*

Me: Noah are you doing a poo?

N: No.

Me: Would you like to sit on the potty?

N: NO.

Me: Can you poo in the potty?

N: NO!

2 minutes later

D: Noah have you done a poo?

N: No

Me: Daddy check?

N: No, Mummy do it.

D: Mummy change your pants?

N: Yeah, Mummy do it.

Me: Don't you want Daddy to do it Noah?

D: No Mummy does it really good, doesn't she Noah?

N: Yeah, Mummy do it.

Me: *mutters: Son if a bitch!* Noah, ask Daddy.

N: NO!! MUMMY DO IT!!!

D: *snigger*

Me: But -

N: MUMMMEEEEEEE!!!!

D: Daddy go get some pants ok Noah? Mummy change you.

Me: ...Bastard.

Things

2010-06-09T09:55:00.004+01:00

I haven't posted for a while because now that voting for The MADs has closed, I feel like a tiny bit of pressure has been lifted. Like, I don't have to pimp myself quite so much any more.

Not that I WAS pimping myself, of course, I would uh, NEVER do such a thing...

ANYWAY!

There's been shit loads going, left right and centre, and my head is buzzing in both good ways and bad ways trying to deal with it all.

First and foremost, Noah's potty training is going BRILLIANTLY. In the space of a week, he now only has an accident if he's completely distracted or if I'm being rubbish and forget to ask in over a few hours. And even then, he'll still hold on to it until he's on the potty. I'm incredibly impressed he's pretty much done all this himself, from telling us when he wants to pee, through to holding onto it and getting himself on to the potty when he's ready. Yesterday we had no accidents.

Poop of course, is a different story, but come on! The kid's only 2 and it's early days.

We DID have fun with Mme HV this week however. Remember me hankering on about Noah's speech? And they're all "He's fine, stop your whining, it's too early blah blah mother fricking BLAH"? And everyone else is all "Yeah he'll speak, Einstein learnt to speak eventually didn't he?" And I pretty much told everyone to "shut the hell up?"

Yeah.

Turns out he's speech delayed.

In fact, the HV's words were "Good heavens, his speech really IS behind isn't it? I do hope you've got him under referral! In fact I definitely would refer him RIGHT now if he isn't. Have you sorted out a hearing test? Has he seen a therapist yet? This needs to be dealt with immediately."

I wanted to take one of Isaac's dirty nappies, mix it with one of my snot rags plastered with FOF and make her snort it until she could sing Yankee Doodle Dandy in the style of Gordon Brown.

He's approximately 6 - 12 months behind, which I can deal with I already knew this. Sadly, I feel kind of justified in my worrying. I didn't want this, OBVIOUSLY, but I feel a little more confident in knowing I wasn't talking out my arse. On the plus side, the barrage of tests showed that all his other skills are at the level of a three year old, with his visual and social interaction skills being equivalent to that of a 4 year old.

Still? Of course I know he'll be ok. I don't doubt (and never ever did doubt) that his speech will improve; the whole point of me being a pushy pain in the arse was so that I could HELP him improve. I knew something was not quite right, so I wanted to HELP him.

Plus? When he says something to me over and over again and I have NO CLUE what he's saying? And he's trying his bloody hardest to tell me something and is getting more and more worked up because I can't understand him and I'm getting more and more upset because he's getting worked up and because I'm failing to understand him? I NEEDED to push this.

However, D and I were rewarded for our bloody big efforts in getting Noah to eat more foods. Suddenly, out of nowhere, someone opened a door and a shit load of light shone through it. Right onto Noah eating food in a restaurant, for the first time ever.

Where Worlds Collide

2010-06-03T22:03:00.003+01:00

So close. And yet still so far.

I wonder if I'll ever let go.

The Gallery: Still Life (and a teeny lesson in cameras)

2010-06-02T07:41:00.012+01:00

A few people have seen my light art photography, and have assumed I've needed some ultimate fancy equipment to do it.

It's actually REALLY easy!!! I mean, of course, uh, it's bloody difficult and takes a er, special sort of um...

Nah that's cock, it's piss easy. Promise I will do some sort of tutorial on this soon. It'll be a laugh.

Those who follow my flickr set closely will also notice there's a whole set dedicated to my iPhone. And lastly, having fallen ridiculously in love with Hipstamatic, I've created a photography blog on Posterous to showcase my efforts with this iPhone app.

Incidentally, if you own an iPhone and don't have this app, then WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU???? *SHEESH*

I'll just wait here while you go and get it.

In fact, here; I'll even throw you a link: CLICK ON ME TO GET HIPSTAMATIC

Trust me, apart from maybe stuff you buy for your kids, and food, and maybe alcohol, this could be some of the best money you'd spend.

I have to say, you have no idea how thrilled to bits I was (in fact, MORE than thrilled to bits) when Tara Cain chose my Bacon Blip on Blipfoto as the inspiration and theme for this week's Gallery!!

OH HELL YEAH.

Well I noticed lots of people were starting to freak the hell out about not having a good enough camera to meet this weeks task. Hell, I'M not sure I can meet this weeks task, I mean, what the hell can beat bacon?

(Seriously, I ate around 20 - 25 rashers of bacon in the three days we were at Centre Parcs, the majority of that being on Saturday and Sunday. And yes, I ate it so fast I couldn't even be arsed to get my camera out to take another pic of it.)

I had a look at some of the pics already submitted for the gallery - shit me you guys are awesome. Which hopefully makes me work even harder. Which is obviously a good thing, especially if it means I'll work off all that bacon. It's so brilliant and satisfying when people see that you DON'T need fancy pants equipment to get a good picture. I do not have any of that shit. I'd have to sell my kids AND my soul to afford that stuff.

Anyway, I put down my trusty little camera and went back to my iPhone, which has repeatedly been slated for it's camera which I'm now thinking is quite a shame.

(Huh...my space bar is dented?? ...or is that just bacon grease?)

And then I couldn't help myself, because quite frankly, I'm addicted to my camera.

(The following are also straight from camera with no special effects applied.)

And food.

And of course, bacon.

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Like the use of photography in this post? Then please feel free to vote for me over at The MADs awards, under Best MAD Blog Photography. Only 4 days left to vote!!! Many thanks :)

Pee-Pee in the Potty

2010-06-01T13:59:00.004+01:00

Noah has officially commenced potty training. Without any prompting from myself, so of course, I'm IMMENSELY proud.

Because you know, I worked so hard to get here. Heh.

He's been asking to use the potty or the loo for some time now, and quite happily goes without fuss. Of course, I'm talking pee here. Poop is another story. We've caught one or two, and he's happy to do it in the potty or on the loo, but it's only day one without nappies, so let's just take one step at a time, eh??

D and I bought approximately 28 pairs of briefs for him yesterday. And by approximately, I mean EXACTLY. That way he has 7 pairs for nursery, 21 pairs at home, meaning roughly 3 pairs a day.

Oh how stupid am I.

He's doing pretty well I have to say, first accident wasn't until 11:30am when he walked over to me with a "cowboy" walk (legs apart, swaggering slightly) and a slight whimper. But he was ok, we whipped them off, sat him on the potty and he finished off.

We've had a further 2 accidents, and it occurred to me to put together a number of Potty Training Tips, which personally, I'm finding IMMENSELY useful. I suspect I may use these when Isaac potty trains.

Um, some of these may be from personal experience with Noah. Possibly.

1: If he's happy in just pants, then just leave him in just pants. You'll change his outfit 17 times.

2: Buy plenty of soap powder. You'll be washing a lot of pants.

3: Buy a shit load of pants.

4: Don't let him sit on your lap.

5: Spare clothes for both of you might help.

6: Buy a shit load of spare clothes

7: Carpets are not that great.

8: Get carpet cleaner.

9: Laminate flooring. Leather sofas. Um, downstairs loo.

10: Do not let the potty out of your sight. One in every room should suffice, 2 or 3 if you're lazy.

11: Ask every 30 seconds if he wants to go.

12: ASKING if he wants to DO a poo is very different to CHECKING if he's DONE a poo.

13: Every kid farts. Farts also smell.

14: Don't let him stand over his brother's head.

15: If you ask your friends for help, sometimes even the well meant advice isn't for all.

Getting There

2010-05-31T22:09:00.004+01:00

I had to have a time-out. It was all too much. I don't cope like I used to.

Or, I cope differently now.

And it's ok.

D's family took us all to Centre Parcs in Longleat over the bank holiday. I went, I stepped outside, I took a deep breath, I listened, I stopped everything.

I'm not quite back up to par, but I'm getting there. I feel like I'm trying to start all over again. So just, you know, thanks for bearing with me. I'm still listening.

In The Words of "Queen": I Want It All

2010-05-25T16:11:00.003+01:00

A rage. A jealous rage.

I didn't see it coming, but oddly enough I half expected it.

All around me, people are doing amazing things. I have admiration for all of them, I really do. Every day, I learn about something awesome that someone else has done, or is doing, or whatever. I see the tweets, I read the status updates, I check my emails, I see the messages.

And I feel rage. A horrible, jealous rage.

It's pathetic.

In fact, if I just got off my lazy arse and tried to achieve something myself, I wouldn't have anything to whine about.

If I just got off my lazy arse, it would be a start.

If I just stopped saying "IF" and faced up to procrastinating like a dumbass, things would probably be significantly better.

I wonder if much of this stems from growing up trying to be the best at everything I can do, whilst never being good enough. The things that mattered to me, that counted, I worked so incredibly hard for. But it was never enough. So somewhere along the line, I started doing everything I could to please everyone else; to show them all that actually, I can be someone. Look, I am someone.

So what's holding me back now? Why don't I just go out there and say "Hell yeah, I can do that, just watch me."

I don't like to be competitive. But I want to be up there with the best of them.

I don't want people to think I'm arrogant. But I want to show the world what I can do.

I don't want to be in people's faces all the time. But I want recognition and respect.

I don't want to be dictated by everyone else. But feel like I flounder without help.

It's all so stupid it doesn't even make the slightest bit of sense. I know what I want, but don't see how it's possible without being really awkward.

I hurt this week. For some reason, I'm feeling more and more like an epic fail, with no particularly good reason. Once again, I set standards astronomically high, way beyond a place where I could ever hope or even dream to reach them. No one else puts this pressure on me, I do it to myself. And every day, I wish to god I could stop.

Because for once, just once, I'd like to be really happy with what I can actually do.

Secret Post Club, with not an innuendo in sight.

2010-05-21T10:31:00.012+01:00

I only posted about the Secret Post Club yesterday, but I have another one to do today because I had May's gift arrive this week.

It's a beautiful gift, which I will treasure immensely, and was clearly very well thought out by the delightfully sweet Laura, over at Are We Nearly There Yet Mummy.

I obviously had no idea who my gift was coming from, but I suspected I might have a tiny clue when I saw the label slapped on my box.

The lovely Laura and I had had many a discussion on baskets of fruit on twitter, wondering what makes an effective basket of fruit, and whether we would be able to get a basket of fruit from our respective partners.

One of the gifts inside took my breath away.

It's a teapot.

Made to look like a Basket of Fruit.

See the beautifully protruding banana? Isn't it admirable?

Although Laura drew my attention to the touching plums. Personally, I couldn't take my eyes off the protruding spout. I thought the hole at the end was rather large.

And was also a little nervous that the tip looked a bit crusty brown. But that's ok, I'm not too fussy, I think.

Needless to say, I was keen to give it a test run, and see if that spout could pour it's juices out of the large hole like every good large spouted teapot should.

Since we rarely drink tea here, I had to fill it with an alternative hot creamy liquid, so as to fully appreciate it's abilities.

I chose my favourite mug; I call it "The Pussy", for obvious reasons. And for this Basket of Fruit teapot, it seemed completely fitting. I was pleased that the spout poured hot fluids into "The Pussy" really well, although I was a tad distracted by the growing bush creeping in over the spout.

I must have been a little in too much awe of the hot spouting creamy fluids into "The Pussy" because looking at the picture now, I see there was a little spillage. See it? That tiny little dribble on the bottom? I would have licked that drop off, but I don't much care for the taste of creamy fluids in my mouth, so there's creamy mess all over my surface.

I'm thinking I might accessorize it, but I obviously don't want to hide it's sheer beauty. And, as if this gift wasn't enough, Laura was most kind to send me a little book to read, perhaps while I indulge The Pussy with hot creamy fluids.

Someone said something about toilet humour, so I thought perhaps I would put it in the bathroom to read when I'm otherwise engaged?

In any case, I'll just say a huge THANK YOU to Laura for my beautifully innocent gifts and go back to admiring them in all their glory.

Secret Post Club, April

2010-05-20T19:09:00.004+01:00

Some people have the best ideas ever. I'm still in awe of fellow MADs finalist Tara Cain's idea for the Gallery, my other current favourite is Heather at Note From Lapland and her Secret Post Club (check out the badge just over there, scroll down, it's on your right).

Now, normally I'm just really excited to send a gift and await the reaction, but I was more excited for last month's as I discovered it was coming from Mexico.

Rawrr!!

I'm still trying to find out if I can get hold of her to say thank you, but April's gift was 3 delicious smelling hand wrapped soaps, and I suspect I won't use them, they'll end up in my underwear drawer making my bras smell nice.

Besides they're too lovely to unwrap. :)

Many thanks to Different Randomness for this lovely gift :D

Business as Usual

2010-05-19T10:15:00.006+01:00

Here I am again. Staring down the barrel. Looking into the abyss. Reaching for my shroud.

I wish I were stronger. I wish people could look at me and say "Bloody hell yeah, that Jay? She's stronger than a strong thing which happens to be strong". I wish I had the strength to not even get into this situation, time and time again. I wish I had more strength to get myself out quicker.

I'm sat in my lounge, next to my patio doors into the garden, and the sun is streaming in. But it's behind me.

The sun is behind me and I can't look at it.

Or maybe I don't want to look at it. Maybe my black shroud is much more comfortable. At least then I don't have to deal with anything else. I don't have to deal with anyone else. I don't have to care.

I wish I had the strength to look at it.

I always thought it was easier to just keep my head down. Keep myself to myself. Let the world pass me by. I never wanted to be where I am, but I want everything I've got, and more.

But I can't even manage it.

I don't know what I want; maybe I'm too confused, maybe I'm too tired. Maybe I do want escape, maybe I want to run away. Maybe I want to forget all of this life, have nothing to do with it. Maybe I don't even want to pack a bag; maybe I just want to close my eyes and sleep. Maybe I don't want to wake up. Maybe I won't wake up.

If I could turn my face to the sun with the promise of something better, but stay asleep until someone could guarantee that for me...maybe that would be the ideal. Maybe I could bask in the warmth of the thought of better things. The blissful idea that there really is better out there.

It's easier for some. Some can shake themselves out. Some can make themselves feel better. Some have help. Many are strong. I don't feel strong. And that frustrates me. But I'm too proud to accept help. It's how I've always been, hasn't it? Too proud to accept help. What doesn't make sense is that it feels like I have nothing to be proud of.

And that just makes me feel even more weak.

I know I have to keep going. I know I have to open my eyes and look at what's going on around me. People will tell me not to be selfish, and to shake myself out of it. Think of my family, think of the kids. Do it for them. They're what matters. They ARE what matters. Does it matter how they see me?

Can they see beyond the fake smiles? Can they see me under my shroud? What if I don't want them to see me?

I guess that's what I do best. Fake smiles. Diversion and distraction. A bit of the colourful me. I'm just nervous that it gets harder and harder every time.

What? How did THAT happen?!?!

2010-05-14T10:05:00.006+01:00

So it seems, today is my 3 year blog anniversary! Or birthday!! Or...whatever it's meant to be called.

It seems blog birthdays are quite a big deal; I've watched a few people celebrate theirs with style, doing giveaways and huge posts and tweetups and parties and whatever else.

And I have to say I'm often a tad jealous, mainly because their blogs seem so popular, you know? So I reckon if my blog was bigger, I might give a way, um, a car?

Or how about tickets to a ball!!!

Or perhaps even family tickets to the zoo?

Yeah...I got nothing. So instead I'm just going to remind you how we started, all thanks to this little monkey.

Sorry, I mean THIS little monkey.

And of course, I'm so pleased we had another little one to add to the blog.

Happy 3 years, journey of the mocha bean(s) and mummy. It's been a hell of a journey so far. I hope we've got much more to share.

Waiting

2010-05-13T10:20:00.004+01:00

I always feel like I'm waiting for something. I'm tirelessly working at something, anything, almost all the time. But somehow, it always feels like I'm waiting.

I blipfoto'd the above photo yesterday afternoon, and realised I was lurking in the kitchen stupidly waiting for them to suddenly spring open to see them bloom.

Dropping off Noah at nursery this morning, it occurred to me that for the umpteenth time I was waiting for September when he starts school properly and (selfishly) I'm not having to rush backwards and forwards. Don't get me wrong, of course, whilst I try my best to enjoy my time with him, I know that nursery is doing him the world of good (better than me? I don't know. It feels like it).

Hell, right now, I'm waiting for Isaac to go to sleep. I'm also waiting for my hair to suddenly have a massive growth spurt...

Last night I was up until around 1:30 am, tirelessly working away at my website, trying to improve it as much as possible, trying to raise stats, trying to get get noticed, trying to raise my rank in a google search.

I look at Isaac every day and wonder when he's finally going to fit into the next size up clothing all ready for him. Oddly enough, I don't look at him and wonder when he's going to walk; he's just started standing up unaided, but as a result of Noah walking at 8 months, I'm quite content for him to take his time...

Many days pass by when I'm waiting to get my camera out and do some extreme photography. Situation doesn't always present itself, for whatever reason, and then of course I berate myself for not making it happen. But seriously, how many pictures of my own children can I take before someone I get bored? Of course I LOVE taking pics of my own....but I always want to be that "something different", you know? I'm waiting for that very thing. That "something different". I don't know what it is just yet.

I'm waiting for the day that Noah can eat something without instantly gagging and barfing. It gets dull giving him the same foods and him struggling to eat new foods. He always tries them; he just can't seem to eat them. I'm running out of ideas.

It's all ok at the moment, though. I have patience; I have to. I can work harder, but I can't make things happen much faster. Especially things that are out of my control. But when these various things do happen, I'm pretty sure they'll be damn near amazing. Or at the very least, worth the wait in some way.

Littered With Links to Help You Decide

2010-05-12T09:18:00.009+01:00

Yeay! It's ANOTHER MADs post!! Because I haven't bored you with enough of those, have I?!?!?!!!? Well I'm supposed to pimp myself out and ask for as many votes as possible etc, but short of harassing celebs on twitter, I'm rubbish at doing that, and end up feeling immensely guilty telling people who they should vote for.

That's Nick Clegg's Fault.

So I thought perhaps if I listed some of my better (photography) posts, pictures and themes and stuff, and then you can have a look, and then um, if you like them maybe you could have a think about nominating me and maybe voting for me and being nice to me and then maybe I might win even though I obviously would be really pleased if the others won but somehow I want to win and beat them all.

Please.

Uh...

Thanks.

Happy Birthday, Isaac - A post featuring pics from Isaac's first birthday and a video of photography from his first year

Oh. Hello Stranger - In which two of my worlds collide spectacularly.

There Are No Subliminal Messages - Um, there are no subliminal messages.

Then there are posts with the usual holiday snaps from my favourite place in the South of England.

Like to see collections? Check out anything about The Gallery, hosted by lovely lady and fellow photography finalist Tara Cain.

What do you do on your Sundays? Mine were Silent for a little while...

Or how about a photo meme? The Kreativ Blogger Award got me to dig out 7 interesting photos...

And in this post, I totally ranted on about how my blog is just AWESOME, and cinched the deal with some of the best photography ever.

(There's a reasonable amount of sarcasm there.)

Noah's second birthday was pretty good fun, and there's pics of cake. Which I made. Not.

And over the last year maybe, I've had some AWESOME FUN with light art, and if I pull my finger out I might even do a tutorial or something on this soon.

And of course, last but definitely not least, who can forget my tweet stalking of Stephen Fry? It's not really photography, but it is, and it's also a good example of how persistent I can be, when I want to be.

And now, for the finest example of my photography work, because that's what this is all about:

Best MAD Blog Photography

The Best MAD Blog Photography award recognises that some bloggers don’t just have a way with words – their pictures are just as powerful, and sometimes more powerful than the words alongside.

Just meeting criteria, is all.

The Gallery: (Boys to) Men

2010-05-11T16:02:00.009+01:00

Over at The Gallery this week, Tara Cain's theme is "Men". Since (apparently) I'm all bolshy and stuff, I'm going to change it to "(Boys to) Men". Because that's what they are.

The testosterone in my house is RIFE. D is in the Civil Engineering construction something or other industry, the boys will scream for anything with wheels, and so needless to say, there are (noisy) diggers, trucks, scoops, dump trucks, cars, buses, transporters and all manner of god-knows-what in the kiddos toy box.

This is my lovely hubs, Mocha Beanie Daddy, known to you as "D". I blame him. But he's bloody lovely, as some of you already know.

This is Isaac. He will lay his hands on whatever wheels he can get.

This is Noah. He is happy to just have them all lined out in front of him and then watch a bit of TV while he can.

Either way, they're happy to bare their chests, smile at the ladies, and play with cars.

And they're all soft enough for a snuggle on the sofa in front of the TV.

Happy Birthday, Isaac

2010-05-08T17:34:00.011+01:00

Wednesday 5th May was Isaac's first birthday. I won't blog a load of stats about him, like he weighs the same as a baby kangaroo, or is a long as our cat, but I thought you might like to see his day in pictures...

He started off in a little photoshoot of his own with me, which he really seemed to enjoy...

(Oh my GOD I want this child's eyelashes.)

(He seems to be one of those kiddos that photographs annoyingly well. And no, I'm not biased. Much. Contrary to popular belief.)

He was fantastic to photograph; I've always felt him to be an easy baby model, and he's totally un-phased by the camera, so I got one or two half decent images!

Then for the rest of the day, he was happy to indulge in presents and toys...

(Noah can be a royal pain in the rear at times, but at least we can safely he say he does love his brother.)

Thanks to Gammar for the cake.

I should say "cakes", big and small.

Which, unsurprisingly were incredibly well recieved!

I could go crazy adding a billion more photos of my gorgeous little boy over the last year, but this post would reach epic proportions.

So I put them into a video instead.

Happy first birthday, my beautiful boy, Isaac Jay.

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If you like this post, please feel free to vote for me over at The MADs awards, under Best MAD Blog Photography. Many thanks :)

There Are No Subliminal Messages.

2010-05-06T09:59:00.012+01:00

OR:

Some Things I Saw This Week

OR:

The Post Where I Leave You All Wondering What The Fuck

It's been an eventful week, Isaac had his birthday yesterday (which I'll blog about, but since he's only one and won't ever remember it, this post is WAY more important), Noah has been seriously trying my patience, I did my first ever adult portrait photo shoot, I started a BlipFoto account (because obviously I'm so lazy and have way too much spare time on my hands) and, um, I appear to have been shortlisted for the MADs Best MAD Blog Photography.

I believe when I found out, my words were:

OMFG

WTF

Nausea

Which was a direct result of this.

So then I read this:

Best MAD Blog Photography

The Best MAD Blog Photography award recognises that some bloggers don’t just have a way with words – their pictures are just as powerful, and sometimes more powerful than the words alongside.

So!! I thought I would just say, um, THANK YOU SO VERY COCKING MUCH!! I seriously did not see this coming. I actually said to D that there was no way on God's rather wet earth that I'd make it as a finalist. I talk about shit, I post random crap, and Jesus H Mother Cocking Christ, have you SEEN WHO ELSE I'M UP AGAINST??? The pictures these guys take are fucking awesome. I urge you to click on those links and take a look, cos SERIOUSLY. Oh Em Eff Gee.

So I thought, maybe I should write a very gushy post and tell you all thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for helping me get this far. I would love it if you were to vote for me to win (have you seen the prizes? Yes please), although I'm still amazed you've helped me get to being a finalist.

I'm barely a photographer in my eyes; with no training of any sort I've still got so much to learn. But becoming a finalist? Well that's just the biggest complement I could ever have right now.

So maybe I should post some pictures to um, show how I got here maybe? You know, "demonstrate" a bit of my work?

(Seriously, there are no subliminal messages here. No sir. Not at all.)

(This was mysteriously found on Noah's doodle draw thingy. No idea how it got there.)

"Yeah yeah mother, see this here? NEGLECT. An empty bottle of water is all I get? You are FAIL."

(Maybe D did this in his sleep, bless him. Ahw.)

"Yawn. Mother. I. Am. Bored. It's not like people care OR listen to your poop anyway. Get over yourself."

(Obviously Isaac did this, though he's so modest, bless him, I suspect he'll deny it.)

"Obviously Mother you are delusional. I'm exercising full-on hardcore cuteness to score some points here, Mother. What - points for you? NO. Points for ME. Check out my sly smile while I get all the attention."

(Strange things happen in the fields at night, round the corner from my house, you know.)

"I turned one yesterday. And my mother chose to write this thank you post to all you lot BEFORE she decided to write about me. Here I eat this number 1 to show my disgust. Make this worth my while and vote for her."

The Gallery: Picture the World

2010-05-05T10:25:00.009+01:00

With everything going on this week (and holy mother there is a LOT going on this week, more on that soon) I very nearly didn't do this week's gallery. I knew WHERE I wanted to post about, but wasn't sure I'd get to do it.

Then I scooted over the folder of pictures, and, well, pretty much couldn't resist. The pictures made me so homesick, I had no choice.

Presenting to you a part of the world, which is almost a second home to me and very familiar to me and my bigger family:

Jamaica.

This was our private beach at the hotel...

I've been here plenty of times before, and Jesus I just can't get enough. So when D and I went for our honeymoon, it was pretty freaking special, but it became something amazing when we took 3 month old Noah to go and visit one of his countries of origin.

And yes, that's part of the view from one of our balconies. :o)

The three of us went in March 2008, and the hotel we stayed at was nothing short of spectacular...

Right down to the random little huts on the tiny islands just off the beach.

Noah enjoyed his first EVER swim.

D and I marvelled over the beauty of our hidden paradise

...which was like being in a picture postcard fantasy...

..and enjoyed many a sunset in the evenings.

But for me, Tara's Gallery Theme reminded me so much that even though the world is such a damn huge place, no matter where we are, we're always close to someone.

So when I was the first in our family to introduce an 86 year old Great Grandparent to his 3 month old Great Grandson for the first time, I realised that for me personally? This is also something you wouldn't necessarily see in the world around us. I think that paints a pretty special picture.

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If you liked this post, please do head on over to The MADs where (somehow!!) I'm a finalist for the Best MAD Blog Photography award!!! Thank you all SO. VERY. BLOODY. MUCH. :D

May YOR

2010-05-04T08:57:00.001+01:00

I mentioned a few days ago in some half-hearted round-the-wrekin half-assed way that I had sort of maybe possibly not quite sure but I think so possibly come up with a possible suggested theoretical idea for May YOR, right?

I'm obviously being a wee bit non committal here, but you know, hear me out.

Well, whilst I've started a BlipFoto journal thing, I immediately felt pressure about what I was taking on. Sure, BlipFoto and various other friends reminded me I don't have to post every day, but I realised, I'm a bit crap for taking a picture every day.

Sure I call myself a professional photographer (barely...even typing that is seriously bloody weird), I feel like I HAVE to call myself professional under the circumstances; but I also feel like I have to draw that fine line between business and pleasure.

I love taking photos, I really do. So very much. But if there's one thing I've learnt is that, much like my blogging, I have to do it for me when I'm ready, to a degree. The portrait work I do, is awesome. I love it so much. BECAUSE it's what I want to specialise in. All the other crazy stuff? Is genuinely for fun. There was a short while where I was going crazy doing tons of iPhone pics because I thought I needed to profile myself, but you know what? It's not important. People will find me when they're ready.

So this month, whilst the resolution is indeed to basically pick up my camera more often, I'll be picking it up for fun rather than doing it because I think I have to.

Kreativ Blogger Award

2010-05-03T12:58:00.008+01:00

Hah! I got another award, and, while I think I've had this award before, the lovely Muddy No Sugar over at How I Like My Coffee has altered it and made it a little more interesting (and challenging I might add...)!! Instead of "7 things about yourself that people might find interesting", I have to do "interesting things in 7 photos".

Ah that girl appeals to my nature, she does. And I gotta admit, I love a challenge.

So here are the "rules", if you will.

1. You must thank the person who has given you the award - Thank youuu!! :D
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog -

3. Link the person who has nominated you for the award - See 1st paragraph!
4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting. - See (variation) below
5. Nominate 7 other Kreativ Bloggers - Hmmm...See below
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate - Guess what? Yeah, see below
7. Let the nominated victims bloggers know they have been tagged - I guess I do that when I'm done?

Alrighty, 7 interesting photos!! All of these images are straight from camera and unedited...so here goes...

No.1

I took this on the 1st June 2009, nearly a month after Isaac had been born. Me, D and the boys decided to spend the day at the Safari Park and it was a great chance for me to see if I could photograph wildlife! I'd never done it before, and while I got billions of shots, I'd have to say this one of a lion walking across the road right in front of us is my fave...

No.2

I am a HUGE fan of crazy photography using special effects and little to no post processing. I'd seen someone's photos of water splashes and droplets and things, and decided to go for something a little bigger...so I started throwing a lime into a pint glass of water, backlit with a white torch and a green led. I remember cleaning up an awful lot that night...

No.3

I warned you I like the crazy stuff, eh? This was taken down in New Polzeath, Cornwall as part of a music portfolio I was putting together, about 4 years ago. We'd just finished and I was holding my cello stood up in the sand. I went to lift it, but the spike was stuck in...so I let go. And this was the result.

No.4

Of course; the birth of Noah, 6th January 2008. His birth story can be found here and in this pic, he's maybe 8 hours old? I hated that I ended up in hospital, but the fact is he was still born at home in a birthing pool, weighing 10lb 15oz. Word.

No.5

And it would be wrong not to include Isaac, born 5th May 2009. In this pic he is about 4 hours old...and yes, his feet are at the bottom of that babygrow; he was 11lbs 0.5oz and his birth story is here. I look like shit. He looks awesome.

No.6

Taken on new years eve 2009, it's a partial eclipse of the moon. I didn't even know about it until I saw someone tweet it, and I was particularly happy as I'd gotten a telephoto zoom lens only days earlier for Christmas. This was my first attempt at learning how to use it. This pic always give me really cool goosebumps.

No.7

One of the most insane pictures I've ever taken. This was a VERY long exposure in pitch blackness on Polzeath Beach in Cornwall. I created light orbs in the dark, with some help from my bro in law (he wanted to do an orb too so I let him do the blue one). The weird streaks you can see in the sky are trails from the stars (as the earth turns), and the trails on the ground are from rolling a glow-in-the-dark ball along the floor. So. Much. Fun.

And so to my nominees. And since I quite like Muddy No Sugar's idea of photos, let's say we carry it on, and these next 7 people ALSO have to do a photo version.

Heh.

Clinically Fed Up

Momma Ruth Says

Sleep is for the Weak

Sticky Fingers

The Lies We Tell Are Found On Film

Blog Up North

Are We Nearly There Yet Mummy

BRING IT!

In Summary:

2010-04-29T19:40:00.001+01:00

April YOR sucked.

Blogging every day is just not my thing.

But you know what I DID learn? I learnt that I don't blog for other people. I just can't. I can't write something just for the sake of someone else having something to read. I CAN, however, write something because I feel like it, I can put something out there when I feel I need to, and I can blog whenever the hell I like.

Which is a good thing! This whole YOR is all about me trying out new stuff and learning from it, right? Ok granted I have already failed miserably at some of them (and no I'm not going to link them, because I suspect some are pretty obvious), but that's ok, because here we are about to jump into month number 5, and um, yeah I haven't decided what to do for the next one.

I suspect it will be something along the lines of posting a photo every day. I've seen people using people BlipFoto and it looks pretty good...or maybe I should actually just open the account in the first place and aim to post every so often...maybe 4 times a week? Doing "A Month of Me" on flickr was pretty good fun, so something similar, maybe?

I don't think it would be pics for JMP, just pics for me, mostly like Tara's Gallery; just to take the pressure off. Hmmm.

But yeah, in summary.

It's been a crazy month for blogging. A post came from nowhere and made me realise that actually, I blog because there IS no pressure on what I want to say. I know there's more like that to come; talking to a friend recently made us both realise that there's potentially a monster outpouring ready to go, but only when we're ready. So no, I'm not going force that anymore. Didn't even enjoy trying it.

But that's ok. It's a new...month, right?

The Gallery: Portrait

2010-04-28T11:17:00.009+01:00

Sometimes it whizzes by in a blur. It's a rough and ready ride.

Sometimes it seems to move at a snails pace. Everything grinds to a halt.

Sometimes we're thrown out into the middle of it, to find our own way out.

Sometimes we're given a companion to share and learn with, and discover new things.

But sometimes? When life starts to get the better of you? Smile. And it becomes a tiny bit easier. (The boys advise me that sticking out your tongue and laughing scores bonus points.)

We all have places to go in life. Just don't forget where you came from. :oD

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This post is for Tara Cain over at The Gallery.

All images are copyright Jay Mountford Photography.

Please ask permission if you want to use them.

Go.

2010-04-26T13:56:00.001+01:00

Vote.

NOW.

If you do I will return your pet.

If you do it before 5pm, I'll return your pet unharmed.

He Can't Talk Very Well But...

2010-04-25T17:59:00.003+01:00

...he sure knows his stuff when it comes to singing along with the Wall-E soundtrack.

The One Where You All Hate Me

2010-04-24T19:04:00.003+01:00

It is currently 7:04 p.m. on a Saturday night. D and I have just finished "The Bedtime Routine", which we start pretty much every evening at 6:15 p.m. Both Noah and Isaac have been fed, bathed, had a story, brushed teeth, kisses, cuddles and "goodnights"...

And we won't hear from them again until the morning, around 6:45 a.m. Noah reads books until we go to him, Isaac lies there with his thumb in his mouth until he sees we're awake (when he'll promptly start talking to us).

The routine goes like clockwork, every single evening, regardless of who does it (whether one of us is out, or we're both out and a grandparent does it). They are both in bed by 7 p.m. And no, we don't keep going back to them once they're down. Sometimes Isaac will shout at his cot a bit. Sometimes Noah gets up and decides he wants to sleep with every single book in his room, tucked in with him in his bed.

But they don't fuss.

And it's always been this way.

Noah slept through the night from around 6 or 7 weeks. Isaac slept through from about 2 weeks. Both would wake for feeds, fuss a little, then go back to sleep.

So what is it? Did we get lucky? Are we jammy bastards? Are we bloody good at what we do? Are we jammy bastards? Are our kids very easy? Are we jammy bastards?

Don't get me wrong; early on with Noah, we had stretches where he would not go to sleep without our help. His dummy wasn't enough, and he had to have his back rubbed and patted until he fell asleep. And if his dummy fell out in the night, we were up and down shoving it back in every half an hour.

Until we did a few nights of cry it out (which was sheer hell, and would never wish on any living human being, ever). But even so, this still very early on. Maybe 4-6 months old?

I feel awful when we have a night where one of them fusses through, like last night. Isaac has some awesome FOF going right now (it was caked up all over his face this morning, kinda like a face mask) and so he was really struggling to breathe, plus he decided to poop around 3 a.m. So I was up to sort him out. And so when I mention it on twitter or facebook, because I know there are SO MANY PARENTS out there who are pretty bloody lucky to get a stretch of 3 hours sleep. On a good day.

We regularly get 7 hour stretches. We'd get more if we would just go to bed on time.

How does it all work? Is it us, the parents? Is it them, the kids? Is it a joint effort? How does it work in your household? If it does work, what's your secret? If it doesn't work, what would you change?

Grow Up Already

2010-04-23T20:46:00.003+01:00

My mum (a midwife) brought round her baby scales today, to weigh Isaac. Remember I mentioned before how he's not a big kiddo like he kind of should be? And how he was born way off the damn charts because I take great pleasure in producing 11lb babies with no diabetic/sugar induced help whatsoever?

Pffft.

He's pretty much gaining no weight. Actually, to be fair, he's gained 4oz. In 2 months. He still hasn't actually doubled his birth weight yet. Noah, on the other hand, had more than doubled his birthweight by the time he was approaching a year old.

I know they aren't all meant to be the same. But I'm quietly worrying more and more now. His clothes bought for him over 5 months ago still fit him exactly the same. EXACTLY. The. Same.

He's otherwise perfectly healthy, he eats a TON of food, he's cruising really well, has (unknowingly) stood up unaided a few times now...

He's just not growing. I'm trying desperately hard to NOT let my worries get ahead of me. But much like I did with Noah and his speech, I have that same niggling feeling something isn't as it should be. It doesn't make any kind of sense. Something doesn't feel right.

So do I be all proactive and hassle professionals to take a look at him and force the issue to find out there's actually nothing wrong?

Or do I sit back and listen to everyone saying "It's ok, stop worrying, he'll be fine, he'll just suddenly start growing"?

Do you know that for sure?

Waiting

2010-04-22T23:50:00.002+01:00

There's stuff to come. It'll come.

It scares me, but I'm sure it'll come.

So many life changing events, they scare me. But there's more to come.

I really hope I can cope. When the time comes. I want to be able to cope.

Dear...

2010-04-21T08:20:00.000+01:00

Lovely Lady TC

I know this note is gonna seem really weird, but I just wanted to say thank you. Your gallery idea is so bloody brilliant, and I love how even when I submit a crappy gallery pic, I've still had to think very carefully about what to post. And even if the pic sucks, I still try to make it worthwhile with my choice of words.

My last post, "Oh. Hello Stranger." has pressed so many of my buttons. It's so funny because, when I first started out on this particular Gallery theme, it WAS going to be a silly one. I've got 4 of the photos ready to go, and know what I want to do for the others.

Actually, I KNEW what I WANTED to do. But not anymore, because once again, you've made me think in a completely different way. There are mahoosive stories behind this post, which I come ever close to sharing with more and more people; had it not been for your Gallery, this teeny tiny snippet of history wouldn't have become such a public part of my blog. I know I don't give away too much; it's still incredibly raw. But I'm close; I'm so close. And that's pretty good, I think, for me.

But anyway. I just want to say thanks. So much. For helping me find an outlet in a way so natural to me. For helping me push my boundaries and make me think. For such an awesome idea. For being so inspiring for so many people.

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Everyone Who Commented Previously

I don't know what to say. Apart from, obviously, thank you. My blog is changing; I didn't mean for it to happen, but it's reassuring and yet quite frightening. I'm changing as a person, it's out of my control, and I need to make sure I can BE the person I'm turning into.

Some of you know how big a change it is. Others are completely unaware. And that's ok. There's a lot to learn about me, so much more, and in nearly three years of blogging, amazingly, I don't think I've given away much of the stuff I think is huge.

But that's ok. It's coming. Soon. I'll change. Things will change. And that's ok.

So thank you, for helping me. I hope I can help you too, because quite a few of you have said you want to get your musical instruments out to play again. But you say you're intimidated. Or scared. Or nervous. Or wary. You know what? I was all those and more. So much more. But if I can do it? ANYONE can do it. And even better? We'll be here to support you. In fact, I'd love you to get in touch if you decide to play again. Even if you don't get it out. Even if you're just thinking about it.

We can support each other. I know it.

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People Who Are Keen to Hear Me Play

I am a LOOOONG way from that just yet. Or at least, I think I am. It won't be this week. Or maybe next week. I doubt the week after. But I might catch myself off guard...and it might even be tomorrow. Or next year. I don't know. I may be proud of how far I got, but I'll never be proud enough to brag of my "skills" or "talent" or whatever.

Sure I have concerts coming up. I can say that now. I'm coming to terms with that now. You're welcome to come here me play, but I'll be safely buried away in the security blanket of an orchestra.

I like it that way. For now.

Maybe one day I'll vlog me playing.

Maybe.

One day.

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JG and CB

I'm glad you're proud of me. I really am. Whether it's the cello or the camera, it doesn't matter. I'm like a kid who wants to be patted on the head and rewarded with a tiny "well done". Because no one else did it before, when I was going through the heartache. So when my best friends say things like that?

It means more than anything.

I love you.

jay xxx

Oh. Hello Stranger.

2010-04-20T14:43:00.016+01:00

I didn't think I'd see her again so soon. She went away last November, and I hadn't planned on seeing her again for quite some time.

It wasn't my idea, though. I wasn't ready to say hello yet. I'm nervous. I'm not sure I can do it yet. But I'm wondering if I ever should have said goodbye.

A sudden flurry of emails, texts and phone calls this last month...why me? Why were people making me deal with her again? I hate that people want me to use her again. I hate the reminder of what they put me through. Sometimes I think I still hate her. So resentful. Few know why. Some should know why, but probably don't realise it. Few knew of my wrath. I'm so angry with all I had to go through; feels like it was all for nothing.

And yet, when I held her last week, for the first time in what felt like forever, I remembered. It's been 5 months. But I remember. I remember everything I've been through. I remember feeling so proud of her, proud of myself. Proud of overcoming all the insane obstacles to keep going for as long as I did.

I recognised her straight away...I've been a part of her for 26 years. It felt natural, she feels right, she feels good. I'd forgotten how much I could yearn for her. I forgot that seductive feel of her beneath my fingers. How she felt whenever I caressed her. I lusted after the emotions she provoked. I lusted after her.

Even so, I'm still bitter when I hold her. So full of envy, of what others could achieve with theirs; that maybe I would never be as good as they. They were better than me, theirs were better than mine. My eyes were always green, but it always made me work harder. Ever harder. But I could never be as good as them.

Strangely, even now, I'm lazy. I want to play with her again, but...I find excuses to not even pick her up. My slothfulness prevents me from going back to that place where I once was. That time when I felt almost invincible, with her power. The lack of power leaves me a little empty. The ever lasting energy she produced; reduced to nothing.

I know why I don't want to go back. I was punished. She punished me. They punished me. But I'm a glutton for punishment. I pick her up, and try to shove it all aside. Like I don't remember any of it. I go back though. I punish myself. I always did. Gluttonous. For punishment.

Is it too much?

No. It’s not enough. I want more. I want more than just her. I want so many things. I have a thirst. A greedy thirst to do so much more than just be with her. The greed consumes me; exhausts me, but I hunger for more.

Other passions invade, I want them all. It’s not enough to be Mother. Cellist. Photographer.

And so, I pay the price for my sins.

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This post is inspired Tara Cain's "The Gallery".

Please do not use images without direct permission from Jay Mountford. Thanks.

Mad Slow Growing Tot Ramble

2010-04-19T09:59:00.003+01:00

I really suck at posting everyday. Much as I love to blog, I become very wary of posting Every. Single. Day. I just don't have that much interesting stuff to say! That, and the majority of it you've heard before. Or no one's interested in.

That, plus in forcing myself to try to post every day, has made me start posting for every one else, rather than myself.

I try to please way to many people with this blog, I swear...

Ok, today I'm going to vent about Isaac. Or at least, Isaac and his slow growth thing. Plenty of people have seen how much food he puts away. He currently eats twice as much as Noah, though is not as active (he's obviously not walking yet, just coasting and crawling, plus he has way more down time than Noah). Yet he is pretty much putting on no weight, not gaining any length, but still looks cuter than any other human baby known to, uh, me.

He's dropped from above 99th centile down to 25th, and everyone's all "Oh it's ok! He's just levelling out! He's an active kid! Why can't you just accept the fact you have a dwarf baby?"

(I have nothing against dwarf babies. Honestly. But if he decides he IS gonna be a dwarf baby? I'd at least like to make sure he has permission from a doctor/professional/google to do so.)

He's otherwise healthy (as far as I can tell) and happy...but that good old doubt and maternal instinct likes to quietly chew away at my left ass cheek, meaning I can't just sit around and hope for the best.

Who the hell in their right mind made me a Mother???

Ok, since I'm clearly just writing about a load of shit, I think this is a great time to re-plug the fact that I made it to Position #79 of the tots 100 UK Parent Blogs:

And also, whilst this obviously isn't first place, it's still in the top 100, which totally means you should go vote for me over at the MADs (Mums And Dads? Bloggers? Should it be MAD Bs? Perhaps not, because with a mind like mine, that just makes me think of "Mad Bastards" or something, and seeing as that's much less effective, I'll just let that one go...)

Er -

YEAH!! Go vote for me over at the MADs.

You just know that if you do, I'll totally send you chocolate biscuits and some pictures of beautiful babies. And, um, you can borrow my private jet which is invincible to all volcanic ash.

Photography Update

2010-04-17T13:37:00.004+01:00

Just to let you know, I'm trying my best to stay on top of the whole photography thing...it seems to be going pretty well... :o)

Jay Mountford Photography Blog

PS I'm looking to start doing some baby bumps next - got a growing maternity belly and would like some beautiful shots taken for memories? Let me know. I can send you a price list for prints, and I'm happy to travel...get in touch!!

Jay Mountford Photography

Mechanics

2010-04-15T19:53:00.002+01:00

We all have them. For different things.

Physically. Emotionally.

I'm trying hard to understand mine, especially when it comes to parenting.

I figure out how to deal with things by tapping in to my mechanics. I find there are automatic strategies that kick in when I'm running out of the ability to just cope.

But some strategies scare me, and it's usually when I'm not coping.

There's a chain of reactions, it seems. And I don't like any of them. And it's always related to Noah.

First, I fly off the handle. I come down on him. Hard. But then he starts whining, and I lose patience. I know I never, EVER want to see what comes after yelling at him, so my auto mechanism kicks in.

I shut down.

It's not even "just ignoring him", it's complete shut down. My brain turns off, my body goes on auto-pilot, my emotions die. I'm cold.

"Is this what he'll remember?" I ask myself. "Am I failing him in not being able to deal with him? Am I being lazy? Am I being irresponsible?" are the questions that go through my mind.

How long will this go on for? I don't like doing it, but I never seem to spot the "acceptable alternative". I struggle to bond with him as it is, and I always feel like the one who needs to keep him under control. Everyone says he's "Oh but he's so amazing! He's so lovely! He's so well behaved!!" And they're right. Of course he is.

But that's come from two years of mechanical maintenance. His maintenance.

But I hate mine. He's so lovely. I am not. My mechanics are ugly. Every time I feel them kick in, I hate who I become; I always hope the repercussions do not last long. But surely...they chip away? They break spirit? Mine and his?

My parenting mechanics feel set in stone. So how do I change them? Can I change them?

Do I need to break...to create a new mechanical structure?

TAGGED!

2010-04-15T09:28:00.006+01:00

Ok I got tagged in a photo meme.

(How do you say that word? Is it, "meem"? Or maybe "mehm"? Or possibly even "meh-meh"? Or perhaps "mee-mee"? Help me out here.)

I immediately crapped myself when I saw my name over at Lifeslightlyused's Blog when I saw what I was tagged for, given the billions of photos on my macbook! But as she's so lovely (and people have tagged me before for this one and I've been too crap to get on it) I thought I should chance it.

So here are the rules:

1 . Open the first/oldest photo folder in your computer library
2. Scroll to the 10th photo
3. Post the photo and the story behind it
4. Tag 5 or more people to continue the thread.

So I opened and scrolled. Here's the pic:

This is Baby Mocha, and in this pic, Baby was about 28 weeks old in utero. D and I had gone for our first ever 4D scan. Here is Baby Mocha, looking almost directly at the camera, and that going up behind the head is an arm. I love this picture, and couldn't believe what we were seeing, given that we'd had a bit of a horrible time with my very first pregnancy.

This pic wasn't from my first pregnancy...but who is it?

It's this gorgeous big little guy. :)

Yeah in all fairness, at only 2 hours old, it's not an easy one...

Still not sure?

...

It's Mr Noah. ;o)

And now I have to tag five more!! So I choose the following:

Bumbling Along - cos she's lovely

Clinically Fed Up - cos her pics blow me away

Muddy No Sugar - cos she's awesome

3 Bedroom Bungalow - cos I wanna see more pics

Single Mummy - cos she's damn good at memes

The Gallery: Joy

2010-04-14T17:12:00.006+01:00

Was struggling for something to post today (actually that's cock; I have TONS to post but I swear I would bore seven shades of shit out of you all. That, plus I'm going to exhaust myself with this blogging every day thing. Damn you April YOR) and then remembered - Ah yes!! Tara Cain's Gallery!! So this week it's JOY.

And you know what? I just need no explanations for this one. There's joy inside AND outside the picture(s) this week.

Please to enjoy.

As a Parent

2010-04-13T09:45:00.000+01:00

Lately there have been a number of things, that not only do I fail to understand, as a parent, I can't even begin to attempt to comprehend.

They are thus.

Why is it that, when I change EITHER of the boy's nappies and it stinks to high heaven, I ALWAYS involuntarily take a deep breath in?

How can they gladly put away anything that is put in front of them at nursery, but when you do the EXACT SAME FOOD at, they look at you like you've lost your marbles and demand something else?

Why do they always want the food I'm eating, and then when I serve EXACTLY THE SAME FOOD on their plate, they STILL go for my food?

Who took it upon themselves to create babies toys that make more noise known to any human on planet Earth? And continue to make noise when they're switched off and buried in the bottom of the toy box?

Why do they want a DVD on, which they've seen nineteen seven hundred frillionty times, and then when you put it on, they promptly jump up and stop watching?

Why do they want to see a DVD nineteen seven hundred frillionty times?

Why is that your children choose to adore the most obnoxious, annoying, disturbing kids shows on tv, and not only adore them, but excel in things they do, because of watching those damn shows?

These are ones which I've only tried to deal with today. If I try to go through the last few days, my brain will explode from lack of comprehension. Feel free to add your own though, maybe someone can shed light on these conundrums?

(Even as I've typed this, Noah just came over and licked my cheese on toast. Which he never eats. Of course he then put it back on my plate. Oh yum.)

Out of the Blue

2010-04-12T13:45:00.003+01:00

In the last hour or so, something happened on twitter which to be honest, I don't really understand. Because I'm a bit too blown away by it.

First of all, I discovered that I'd made it onto the Tots 100 Index, which blew me away in itself because, hello? I blog about crap. There are so many more awesome parent blogs out there, which don't fob you off with stupid pointless posts and actually write about how awesome their Kidlets are, and how parenting is fab, and how they go off and do all sorts of wonderful things...

I'm flattered. So immensely flattered. I don't even know what to say. I submitted way back, not expecting to make it on, at all. I confess I submitted, and actually said something like "Hah! If I make it on there I'll fall over backwards and sideways simultaneously." (Or words to that effect).

And then suddenly, there I am, at number 79. Not even two million and eight, or even 101, but position 79. And 79 is such a magic number too, particularly on this month's index, as it means I won the draw for a ticket, and I'm now able to go to Cybermummy, which is like a UK version of Blogher. Which comes just as D and I had pretty much given up hope on me being able to go.

OMG!!!

All of the above is thanks to a number of people, and they are (in no particular order):

Sally Whittle over at Who's the Mummy?

Cybermummy, funnily enough, over at Cybermummy

Family Holidays, something we could ALL do with

And of course, most of all, Sally's daughter the flippin' lovely Flea, who helped me get to Cybermummy.

I even get to (eventually) add some shiny new badges to my blog!!

YEAHHHH!!!!

Isaac was pretty pleased for me too. :)

April YOOORRRRR

2010-04-11T22:53:00.002+01:00

I'm doing so well!! I'm posting every day!!!

...

Oh. No I'm fucking not.

Epic fail.

(and I do it so well. Heh.

Kissies!!! xxx

PS I may be a teeny bit drunk. I blame others. xx

Today...

2010-04-09T23:56:00.000+01:00

Today has been awesome.

Today has been fucking marvellous.

Today, Noah and I cooked carrot cake, thanks to a kiddies cook book from Cassie

Today I secured some more photo session bookings.

Today I did my first order of photos from my website, to check print quality, ready for first real orders.

Today I spent some awesome uninterrupted quality time with Isaac.

Today an owner of a house we viewed (and fell in love with) last week phoned to tell us she's coming off the market for a year and to get back in touch with her next year so she can sell to us.

Today I was reminded of who my friends are and how awesome they are.

Today I spent 2 hours on the phone to someone I'm going to meet for the first time on Sunday.

Today, I felt alive. It was pretty fucking good.

Too Overwhelmed to Think of a Title

2010-04-08T21:50:00.004+01:00

I don't even remember how it happened. Making awesome connections with new people. Maybe it started with the blogging? Like, way back in the early days, when I started this on my own, just documenting my pregnancy with Noah. Maybe it was twitter? Where I suddenly made even more new friends?

Everything took a fantastically awesome turn this week. In fact, things have been turning for a while, what with meeting up with porridgebrain and BumblingTweets in the last two weeks...that was pretty awesome and very much blew me away. Why have I not met these lovely people before? Where have they been all this time?

I was trundling along, thinking this was all very lovely, and how nice it was that I'd met a couple of lovely people. And then this week, something happened that I never, ever thought would happen.

I met up with a group of other ladies and their kiddos, whom I had never seen before in my life, took Isaac with me, and had a bloody fantastic time. To the point where I got home, and have been in a weird kind of happy trance ever since.

As per my previous post, I was right in that I was stupidly nervous. I'd picked up porridgebrain from the station, and was eternally glad to have her with me meeting everyone else for the first time, but still, I was pretty much crapping it.

They're all so...so...confident? Amazing? Popular? They seem so organized, on the ball, grown-up. Their kids are gorgeous, incredibly well behaved and they all bonded with each other pretty much immediately. I realised when I got home, they are ALL like the sort of girls you want to join up with in high school; you know, that group of girls that are somehow amazingly popular and have all the cool stuff and are really nice without even trying. And you kind of feel like the one who is a fool every time you open your mouth. Or look up. Or, uh, breathe.

I was gutted I wasn't able to get any photos; I had Isaac in the Baby Bjorn and he was getting quite irate (starving, it seemed, and I suspect those bastard teeth are driving him nuts), as per usual I'd opted to carry a pointless mountain of stuff and I'd forgotten to bring the small camera bag. *sigh* There are some great pics on their sites though!! (Omg, intimidated by their photography skills much?!?!?)

I won't go on about it all, but I'll say that I had a fucking awesome time with cake, bacon, corned beef sandwiches and damn cool little people.

Oh, and of course, Bumbling Tweets, Jo Beaufoix, Muddy No Sugar, porridgebrain, Rosie Scribble, and of course Tara Cain. Who IS gorgeous and amazing. They ALL are!

Hope we do it again soon...

The Gallery: Ugly

2010-04-07T21:18:00.004+01:00

I nearly gave up. Tara Cain was all "you're amazing! You're inspiring! Now I'm going to watch your brain cells leak slowly out of your ears while you all walk around clueless, saying WTF! WTF! Mwah hah hah."

I mean, I love her and all, I met her and some very lovely others for the first time today, but I very nearly considered myself supremely butt-fucked by this week's Gallery theme.

"Ugly"

Sooooo...I decided on this.

No no, I'm not suggesting me (though some days I seriously would), but look closer. At my neck.

I have a scar on my neck, which has been there since I was almost a year old. I got it because whilst a childminder was looking after me, she left a tea pot of boiling hot water on a coffee table. I walked over to the table and decided to investigate. The rest is history. I have the scars all around my neck, behind my right ear and down my right arm. They will be there, I suspect, forever.

Most scars I can deal with. My legs are badly scarred from eczema. My bum and thighs are riddled with teenage stretch marks. It's not great, but I find ways to deal with it.

But I know for a fact there are no photos of me as a baby around the age of 1, because my face was so badly scarred for a short while I was unrecognisable. I was a very ugly baby. My poor mum couldn't bare to have the reminder of what I looked like, and even though I never saw it, I don't blame her.

So I consider this scar, of all my battle wounds, to be pretty ugly. I hate it, and even though most people don't notice it, I will be eternally aware of it. It's pretty ugly to me.

Cos Life's Never Dull

2010-04-06T21:42:00.004+01:00

Today, our entire house sale fell through. Everything. All of it. There is no way we can move, for at least a year. There is shit all we can do, apart from to just wait it out.

OMFG.

And I've spent the last 11 hours dealing with it, and getting over it. So, whatever.

The good news is...uh...

I'm meeting a load of new folks and their kiddos tomorrow! Very excited to see:

Tara Cain - responsible for "The Gallery" (this week is "Ugly". I might post my legs.)

Rosie Scribble - Seems super lovely. She may wonder what planet I'm from.

Jo Beaufoix - Sassy and bloody pretty. I may wear a large hoody and baggy jeans.

Muddy no Sugar - great photographer. So I'll take my camera, and never get it out.

And then I'll seeing for the second time:

Bumbling Tweets - she's SOO lovely, down to Earth. The exact opposite of me.

porridgebrain - one of the best people I have ever met. Annoyingly amazing. Dammit.

So of course, I'll spend the whole time feeling IMMENSELY intimidated, while they all talk about amazing things, and people they know, and how awesome their kiddos are, and I'll do everything I can to pimp Isaac and his fucking adorableness, not mention Occasional-Spawn-Of-Satan-Child Noah (Not in a bad way of course, you know he's obviously still cute, but as he'll be at nursery {OMFG THE CHILD IS AT NURSERY} I can just pretend I have one adorable child who doesn't pound the shit out of his older brother).

(Lately Isaac totally pounds the shit out of his older brother. But it's ok, because Noah gives as good as he gets. So all is good.)

So yeah! Really looking forward to it! I'll distract everyone from me and they'll be all "Ohhhhh do you remember that gorgeous baby boy Isaac? Ohhh he was ADORABLE!! That's right, he was there without his mum wasn't he? Ahw bless him. Hmm...who was that random dark shadow in the corner?"

Etc.

It'll be a great day, I'm pretty sure.

Because Noah does his first "real" half day at nursery and Isaac is 1 year old in less than a month.

Omfg.

April "Year of Resolutions"

2010-04-05T21:29:00.003+01:00

Oh bollocks. I totally forgot to keep thinking about something for April YOR, and so consequently I'm now 5 days late, and about to make something up on the spur of the moment.

*thinking*

...

*still thinking*

Ok. I have it. If I manage this one, I swear to God I will fall over my own pants. But here it is.

April YOR is...

To blog post every day for the remainder of April.

Sweet Jesus just saying it fills me with dread. I mean let's face it. We all know I pretty much talk an amazing amount of shit, the majority of it very uninteresting, or pointless, or depressing...

But on reflection, that's pretty much me in a blogshell, so let's do it.

I've already blogged 2nd and 4th of April, so to compromise, I'll do two posts on two days to make up for 1st and 3rd of April.

I hope you're all prepared for a month of some really weird and wonderful (or not) stuff.

...

PS If you want to throw in some ideas for future YOR, I am SO open to suggestions!!! Do your worst. Or um, best, please...kthxbai.

7 Bits of Sunshine. Or...Something.

2010-04-04T19:19:00.004+01:00

BLIMEY.

There's quite a few of you out there who like me, which I find IMMENSELY flattering! Don't worry, I'm not about to go out and start bopping about how frigging awesome I am, mainly because I know you all know that already.

*snort*

But in this post I shall go over the latest awards I have received. Because apparently, I'm pretty cool.

(do you have any idea how odd it is to just SAY that? Not even out loud, but here in this blog??)

First up, is another Sunshine Award! This one comes from Sam over at Keep Calm & Eat Cake (one of the many awesome blog titles I've seen over the years). I'm not sure if my Ode to Bacon had anything to do with it, but she presents me with the Sunshine Award, as seen here:

This is the third time I've had this award, and in all seriousness I really am thrilled to bits to receive it, especially as I've been a bit of a miserable bugger lately...

So thank you VERY MUCH Sam, I really appreciate it!!

All pretty awesome blogs.

Next award lately comes from the ever entertaining Rosie Scribble. She's very lovely, and hopefully I should be meeting her pretty soon (squeeee!) all being well. The fab award this time is the Kreativ Blogger award, which is pretty frigging cool, but also requires me to disclose 7 things you did not know about me.

Well here is said fab award:

(which is pretty freakin' cool)

Well since I already pretty much put myself out there, I'm going to have to apologise in advance if I repeat myself, but here goes:

1. Because my pelvis is so much better, I often attempt to Riverdance through the kitchen, rather than just walk. But only in the kitchen.

2. I was on Blue Peter and have a Blue Peter badge.

3. I'm crapping myself every time I give out a business card, yet thrilled to bits every time someone accepts one.

4. I have episodes of the Powerpuff Girls on my PC upstairs. And maybe Powerpuff Girls The Movie on DVD.

5. I asked Lynda Bellingham for her autograph whilst I was on tour in Canada.

6. I played cello professionally for 24 years, and have performed in may parts of the world.

7. I survived hurricane Gilbert in Jamaica in 1988; my parents and siblings were at home in the UK and I had travelled out alone to see my grandfather. I was 9 years old.

I now have to nominate people for the awards; 5 for Sunshine, 7 for Kreativ. So I'm obviously going to be a lazy bugger and just nominate 7 for both awards, right?

Bumbling Along

3 Bedroom Bungalow

Are We Nearly There Yet Mummy

Notes From Lapland

Musings of a Geriatric Mummy

Insomniac Mummy

The Lies We Tell Are Found On Film

I Has a Nom

2010-04-02T13:18:00.002+01:00

Well actually, I has a nominayshun, but that wouldn't have made much sense.

It turns out someone out there likes my blog, and has nominated me for The MADS 2010 Blog Award!

To say I'm chuffed to bits is an understatement. I'm like, over the fucking moon! Bewildered, also, but THRILLED.

In fact, when I was told about it, it took me some time to believe whether it was true, and was convinced someone was yanking my chain. But no! Seriously! You guys, um, actually like me and stuff!!!

I appreciate there are some of you reading this and wondering what the fuck I'm talking about, and if that's the case then you should head on over to Who's The Mummy blog and go look at all the awesome blogs over there that have been nominated. There are plenty I read, some of them in my blog roll, and they're all worth a look in. Then when you find one/some you like, GO VOTE for them!

Then they can win pretty prizes and stuff.

The only thing I'll say is, just be wary of who you nominate and what category you're throwing them into. You can't nominate someone for a category they don't really belong to. For example, if there was Most Intelligent MAD Blog, it would be a little silly to nominate me for that because let's face it, I'm pretty much Queen of Sheer Stupidty.

However, I've been nominated for Best Looking Mad Blog. Why thank you!! I am pretty good looking. I'm thinking about plastering my face over my blog some more, to generate more interest. Or perhaps another pic of my arse, or maybe my boobs? I think that would spruce it up nicely.

Wait...of course that doesn't really reflect how good my blog looks, but it's all content, right?

So thank you! In all fairness, I had uhm'd and ah'd for AGES about this particular design and I'm still unsure but it's nice to think someone else likes it. So I certainly appreciate that nomination.

I've also been nominated for Best Mad Baby Blogger.

Now there's something you need to understand here. The two fucking gorgeous babies you see on this site? They're not really mine. I stole them. From a supermodel. She makes gorgeous babies, and I have these two on loan as and when I need them. Their real names are Jedward and Peter Andre III. They attend Cambridge University in their spare time. One of them shaves cats for a living.

But nonetheless I thank you for the nomination, because I'm obviously doing a good job at pretending to raise them as my own.

I'm immensely thrilled to bits to have been nominated for Best MAD Blog Photography, especially as when more often than not, I haven't a fucking clue what I'm doing with a camera. I pick it up, twiddle some knobs, press some buttons and the screen on the back changes and looks vaguely like what's in front of me. Then I open up this thing called "Photoshop" and edit the bejesus out of them to make them look vaguely presentable, then I decide they still look shit so I pimp them round the interwebs a bit, and eventually when they return to me, they look pretty good.

But I totally take all the credit, you know, because they're on my blog. So obviously, that's um, all cool. Awesome. And actually came as a fab compliment to me after finally getting my photog website live, even after an very large and annoying hiccup with my gallery (but that's another story).

So thank you so VERY much for nominating me! The MADS is a wicked idea; great way for people to show off their stuff, awesome way to find brilliant new blogs in categories that would appeal to you. They've clearly worked their arses off to get it going, and just by nominating shows appreciation for what they've achieved so far.

Of course, you should now go and tell all your friends to go nominate some blogs too; there's shit loads to choose from and seriously, they're bloody amazing. Click the pretty MADS button on the right hand side to go to the website, or click on of the billions of links I've sprinkled around this blog. You're welcome to get your friends to nominate me too, or you could take them to McDonalds and teach them about dipping fries into banana milkshake.

Do not knock it til you've tried it. Seriously.

The Gallery: Outside My Front Door

2010-03-31T21:54:00.006+01:00

Yes it's another gallery post, from The Mrs Tara Cain (and yes, it's THE Mrs, not just Mrs, because, you know, it's Tara. Yeah) and this week's theme is "Outside My Front Door".

I had NO IDEA what to do for this one, since directly outside my front door is my car, hubs' car, more cars and then some houses. And often, some kick-ass sunrises.

Although it looks nice in the snow too.

So I took a very short walk down the road to the end of my close, and quite liked this.

And then I looked up and realised I'm lucky enough to live a ridiculously short walking distance from wildlife and countryside.

And more wildlife and countryside.

Of course, having a short driving distance to several town centres and a major city is pretty cool.

You can find wildlife there, too.

Solutions

2010-03-31T10:00:00.002+01:00

Yeah, see I don't have any. No solutions at all. I hope to soon. I don't know how many times I can bounce back. I can't make "just bouncing back" a habit. I need to fix the problems. But I don't know what the problems are.

For the sake of my boys, my sanity, my life, for now, I'll just keep bouncing back, best as I can.

Maybe sometimes I'll just need a little help with the old springboard. Everything weighs a little more than before, you know.

ETA: Thank you to everyone who supports me when I'm being utterly crap. I don't always deserve your support when I'm being so difficult but you should know I always appreciate you being there. I really hope one day I can call on one of you when I really, really need you.

Out.

2010-03-29T09:35:00.004+01:00

It's another post about depression. Sorry. But that's how it is lately. That seems to be the theme of my life lately. I'm not even sure why.

I've had enough of everything, I've had enough of everyone. I've had enough of not wanting to sleep, and yet being so desperate to sleep. I've had enough of nightmares at night, waking up D, and being completely unaware of having nightmares and waking up D.

I've had enough of trying to figure out people, and who and what they are to me. I've had enough of being desperate for company and wanting to be left alone.

I can't deal with having lots of small successes and yet it's still never enough for me.

I've had enough of this. I've had enough of living my life, unintentionally, as 2 people. I'm tired of this feeling of schizophrenia.

I'm so tired. Tired of everything. I really want out. Call me a quitter? Go ahead, I don't even care. Small things are happening..that's great. Things are maybe looking up, I should be pleased.

I can't shake this slump though. I hate to say any of this to anyone, because I know it makes me look ungrateful for any of the things that are happening now. But I don't want to be me anymore. I don't like this person. I don't like who I am, I don't like who I'm "supposed" to be.

Even though it's all self inflicted.

Lately I hate being a mom. Yes, I said it. But not because I don't love my boys. But because I forever feel I can do nothing right, and quite frankly, the job sucks. I've stopped seeing rewards because I'm working so hard on trying to keep everything else ticking over. I'm not even doing nearly as much as some other parents, so why the hell can't I even cope with what's on my plate?

I can't shake this. I can't shake any of it. I'm not strong enough to deal with it, and I don't want to deal with it any more. I seem to spend the best part of my life dealing with it.

I want out. I really want out. I don't want to do this anymore. I've had enough. Someone else do it. I don't want hugs. I don't want sympathy. I don't want "It'll get better". I don't want anything any more.

I just want out.

Distracted to Distraction

2010-03-27T16:19:00.006Z

Yeah I've kinda been a bit neglectful lately, so yeah um, sorry, it's because, my um, raccoon, got into this fight with a um, left sock, which was incidentally NOT one of the sock missing from my wardrobe, and did you see that thing on tv the other day about the thing with the cheese because I thought it was almost like that story in the paper this morning about toast?

Hi!

Yes!

Where have you been?

I've been here waiting all this time.

Are you confused?

I fucking am.

Ok I'm just going to distract you with stuff.

Go read this (and PLEASE help me out!!!)

You need to go view THIS ARTICLE ON DUCT TAPE and let me know if you've tried any. If you DO attempt any, please let me know because it's more than likely you will become my hero.

I want to learn to sing this song and play it on the piano.

Bacon or Beer Can. I can't decide, but it still cracks me up every time.

Tara Cain has put this week's gallery up. I haven't a clue what to do, so I reckon I'm gonna wing it. Again. You know, for a change. And I'll tell everyone I put lots of thought into it.

Shit, I may have just hyped myself up too much already.

And also, COCK! I have NO IDEA what to do for next month's YOR. I'm supposed to be meeting people this month, and that seems to have gone a bit pear shaped and I've not met nearly as many people as I'd hoped. So if you have nothing better to do, are really bored and fancy pointing and laughing at me in person rather than through my blog, let me know, ok? It'll be fun, I'm sure.

Lastly (no more links after this, promise) I would like THIS PORK PRODUCT RELATED SITE to sponsor me for something. I don't know what. Bacon eating contest, maybe. Or perhaps to write more on the Ode to Bacon.

I lied when I said no more links (of course I lied! HAH.)

There's this big old competition going on about some blogger awards, called The MADS, and you should all totally go nominate some blogs. I hasten to add, I'm not (necessarily) asking to be nominated, because there isn't a category for "Blogger That Rambles on About The Most Pointless Shit Known to Man" (which if there WAS, I would TOTALLY whoop all a y'all asses), but there are lots of people who should be nominated, and a soon as I figure it out, I might try and sneak a badge in the old sidebar to remind you to GO VOTE for people. Or yourself! Go vote for yourself! You are pretty amazing, after all.

Just one more on the whole colour thing

2010-03-26T00:32:00.002Z

Because this one actually said it funnier than I did :D

Chin Up

2010-03-25T08:32:00.002Z

Chin up.

That's what they say isn't it? When you've battled along, and it all seems like it's going to shit, and you're really down.

Chin up.

That's what you do isn't it? You hold your head up, take on said chin, and try to move on as best you can, learning along the way.

Chin up.

That's what you see isn't it? You look up, directly into the eyes of those crapping on, directly into the face of what's trying to stop you and brave it all.

Chin up.

That's what you feel isn't it? You feel the physical sense of picking your whole self up, no matter how down you are and adorn yet another layer of battle armour.

Chin up.

That's what I must do isn't it?

I've done it before, I can do it again, right?

...right?

The Gallery: Me

2010-03-23T15:45:00.004Z

I just knew I'd get sucked into this. That Tara Cain woman over at Sticky Fingers with her damn good idea of The Gallery which I'm now frigging sucked in to, and I defy myself not to post but I post anyway. DAMN YOU AND YOUR WILLFUL WAYS.

I had no idea about this one. She said this week's theme is "Me". So I'm all "who the hell am I? I have no idea. What do people know about me? An awful lot. I don't hide much of me from people, I tell it like it is rarely giving a rats ass, and yet there's still that vulnerable side which I try not to display too often."

So then I thought, "how the hell can I show 'ME', as above?" Needless to say, I skated past the ideas of boobs and ass (and feet) because Tara would kick my ass. But then I thought, "but you know what? That's ME. I kinda just put it all out there. I put the stuff out there that not everyone wants to see or hear. It's exactly me. I make you stop, have a think and look again."

So I did.

(Click the pic to see the rest of my "Month of Me" on flickr)

Ode To Bacon

2010-03-22T13:21:00.003Z

I'm shit at poetry. But I was set a bit of a challenge this weekend, and in all honesty, I quite enjoyed it. It sure as hell showed me why I'll never be a writer, but still.

I thought it wasn't too bad.

Presenting, my special words, dedicated to Sam at Keep Calm & Eat Cake.

Ode To Bacon

Oh Bacon! Dear Bacon!

This ode, it is for you.

A chance for one to claim a love

For you, so strong and true.

Your tastiness, one must confess!

For you? I'd join a queue.

Oh Bacon! Dear Bacon!

You are substance divine.

So crispy and yet stringy too,

Oh yes! God bless the swine.

A fry-up any time of day

With you just tastes divine.

Oh Bacon! Dear Bacon!

How could one live without thee?

Even veggies would convert,

You influence so greatly.

You hold a place in all men's hearts,

A place, deserved, so rightly.

Unchartered Territory

2010-03-20T10:27:00.004Z

Something's happening. I'm not sure what it is, or how to deal with it. It's a good thing, trust me, a very good thing. A nice thing. But I don't know how to handle the situation.

If anything, she'd probably just tell me to go with the flow. She'd probably just say that it's ok. Don't stress about it. It's normal. People make good friends all the time. I know that. Of course I know that! Like, DUH, I know people make good friends.

I'll probably offend an awful lot of people with this post. People who thought they knew me. People who thought they understood me. People who tried to relate to me, to understand what it is about me. What makes me tick.

I pushed most of them away at the first sign of misunderstanding.

See, the thing is, there's just too much going on for me to have to explain myself. I can't explain who I am, what I am, in just a few short words. And sadly, that means an awful lot of people don't have the time for me as a friend. Sure people tolerate me, or hang around me occasionally. Maybe I misunderstand them, maybe they misunderstand me.

In fact, I know I'm misunderstood. I suspect many people think I'd rather just get on with things by myself. Deal with my own problems in my own time. Not want to share problems with others for feedback, or advice, or just to generally sound off.

Wrong.

And that's a shame.

Because often, the above is the exact opposite. I need to sound off all the time. Just one reason I started this blog. I can deal with stuff, but not always on my own. It gets too much. I need to share problems. All the time. But I need to be heard. I don't always want you to keep interrupting me with your experiences. I don't want to finally open up to you, only to have you talk over me and me not even finish what I was saying. Sometimes? It is all about me.

To the very few who DO offer me their ear, GENUINELY, I don't always take it. I have my reasons. Usually because I know they couldn't relate, or I just don't really know how to talk about it, or they're not right for me at that time...but I always appreciate the offer. Always. And I hope they know that. I'm sure they know that. I hope that even though I almost always decline to talk to them, they don't ever stop offering, because sometimes that in itself, is enough.

Am I too fussy in picking friends? Am I foolish for not letting potential friends get too close? I haven't had a good friend since I left high school. There have been people come and go since then. There are people who I let get close, too close, and then pushed them away because they hurt me.

I don't seem the vulnerable sort, do I? Yeah that's me, tough exterior, maybe a little soft on the inside, just gets on with it, takes no bullshit, and takes most other stuff on the chin.

There are people who are discovering that's not the case, all the time.

There are some people who ARE lovely. Beyond belief. And I want to spend more time with them. Different reasons make it difficult. Or, different circumstances mean we're not in the same place, which is fine. They're still so very lovely. They know who they are. They know I'll always be there for them, no matter what. They know I'll always smile when they get in touch. They may not think it's them that I'm talking about, but that's ok. They still make me smile.

However.

She's lovely. She's the sort of person I wish I'd known a long time ago. She understands way too much. I nod my head vigorously in agreement with every email she sends. She makes me laugh. A lot. To the point where I have to tweet her just to tell her she made me laugh. I'm jealous of her talents, even though it's in areas in which I hold very little desire to excel.

I've had lots of friends. I've had some good friends, and still do. I currently have one or two great friends, who I always have time for. But it's been some time since I had a best friend, who just, well, knows.

Just let it flow, right? Don't push her away? Don't get hung up? Don't get weirded out? This post probably sounds like I've found a new love of my life (I stress I'm happily married, and not a lesbian. And of course there's nothing wrong with lesbians. *snort*), but seriously, I get nervous when someone seems a bit...perfect? Good for me?

Is it wrong that I'm kind of waiting to find some major flaw that makes me revert to my usual rant of "see? Let someone get too close? They will fuck you over. And you'll be back to square one. And be full of regret. And you'll learn your lesson. And they never took you seriously in the first place. And didn't you know they were just humouring you? And of course, they were only so nice to you just to make themselves look good. And they never took you seriously. And you're a fool. And also? DUH."

Continue downward spiral of ridiculous thinking.

I hate this way of thinking. I don't want to freak her out. I don't want to push her away. I don't even want her to be freaked out by this post. I just hope she understands that I don't cope so well with people ALWAYS being there for me. Even through their own shit. Even when they are at the end of their own tether.

I don't know where this post is going. What I do know, is that I'm apprehensive. I know she fully understands why. I know she has so many other friends who help and support her immensely, and she does the same for them in return. So I'm apprehensive because I don't want to get hurt again, by someone I consider important to me. I suppose I just count myself incredibly lucky, despite my cynicism, that she counts me as one of those friends.

And I know that, even though I don't understand this now, that this really is unchartered territory for me, and I'm not just chilling out and enjoying the situation (Situation? It's not even that. I don't know what else to call it...normal-ness?), I'll look back and count myself as incredibly damn lucky to have been in this situation. To have known her, and have her give time and have patience for me.

I hope she knows that.

The Secret Post Club

2010-03-19T13:08:00.008Z

I decided to take part in Heather's Secret Post Club idea, which quite honestly, is just genius. You get assigned a name, twitter id, post address and a little info about the person. What's cool is you don't know who's mailing to you. Or what they're going to mail you. Basically, like Secret Santa, only it's every month.

My sender was the lovely Geriatric Mummy, who sent me a gorgeous smelling bath oil and a jar of organic hand cream. She's a fully qualified qualified aromatherapist, reflexologist, indian head massage and reiki practitioner, so she's very clued up on natural oils and all things that smell delicious like that.

Here's what she says about what she sent:

In the aluminium bottle is dispersing bath oil. It has a base of Almond Oil which is very nutritious and moisturising for the skin. It is scented with Rose Otto and Sweet Orange essential oils...

In the blue jar is an organic hand cream, again scented with Rose Otto and Sweet Orange essential oils. The cream contains Aloe Vera, White Camellia Oil, Sunflower Oil and Macadamia Nut Oil and is, I think, just gorgeous :)

I chose Rose Otto oil as it is the oil that best represents love and femininity. It's a relaxing, nurturing oil that nourishes and supports our emotional wellbeing. Sweet Orange eases tension and frustration, disperses irritability and enhances joy and positivity. From one mummy to another I thought these oils would serve you very well.

And she's right, they smell damn near DIVINE. And how amazingly thoughtful to think through a choice of oils that might work best for me? I'm feeling quite spoilt I have to say.

What's even more cool, is it was a gift that kept on giving. GM had wrapped them in tissue paper, making for some very nice photos, and the chance for me to play around some more with my macro lens.

Turns out I wasn't the only one who wanted to play. Unbeknown to me and Geriatric Mummy, it turns out Noah has a thing for bubble wrap. The boy sat still and popped for over half an hour.

Thank you so much Geriatric Mummy and thank you to Heather for the brilliant idea!!!!! xxxxx

Vlogging Blogging Clogging um...

2010-03-18T08:50:00.003Z

A light "intermission" if you will.

And just because I find it fucking hilarious.

The Gallery: Much More Than Colour

2010-03-17T09:15:00.005Z

Despite being the one to suggest the Theme of Colour for Tara Cain's Gallery this week, I found it all too easy to succumb to taking a picture of the millions of colourful toys littering the lounge, or the green grass outside or whatever.

Then a very lengthy life-story email to someone who unwittingly is becoming one of the best friends I ever had, made me have a second think about colour. The email reminded me of all sorts of things related to colour. Sadly, not in a good way, but certainly in a way that would make you sit the hell up and think.

Just the word, "colour", hits a nerve for me. It's something I've had to deal with all my life. Sure we ALL deal with it in some way, but funnily enough, for me it's been more of an issue than anything else.

Growing up as a cellist, people used to ask me "What's it like being a black cellist?" "What's it like being the only black person in an orchestra?" "Those coloured people in the audience, do you know them? Are they your family?"

My friends, mostly white and Asian, would see other black people on the street and (genuinely) say "look, that's your brother isn't it?" "I was out shopping the other day and I saw this black girl and thought it was you" "I think I saw your sister the other day, that coloured girl who works in that shop?"

You couldn't make this shit up.

Oddly, the one thing that bothers me most in that last paragraph, is being called "coloured". I'm going to ask you to stop and have a think, before you label someone coloured. And what I'd like you to think about is this.

When you're ill, you're green.

When you're embarassed, you're red.

When you're cold you're blue.

When you've been on the tanning spray you're orange.

When you're dead you're grey.

When you're asphyxiated you're purple.

When you're jaundiced you're yellow.

When you're terrified you're white.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there just about all the colours of the rainbow in there?

Me? I stay black. Or "brown", if you REALLY want to be PC. I go slightly darker if I stay out in the sun. And I become - yes. Another shade of brown.

So more often than not, when I look at the people around me, I don't see colour. Not in that sense. My husband is "white". My in-laws are "white". I am "black". My great grandmother was asian ("yellow").

So here is my Gallery Contribution.

It's a little lame. But I don't always see colour. I'd like to think I see much, much more.

Have a Kit-Kat

2010-03-16T00:38:00.004Z

Well, no, but saying "Have a break" was lame, so I stole the other part of that slogan.

Oh god, it's gonna be a weird one.

I dunno what's up with me. I think I'm spiralling towards another crisis. I don't think it's Slippery Slope...but it doesn't feel far off. There are just too many damn thoughts in my head, about everything, and oddly enough I'm preferring to keep them in than to let them out.

This, of course, is dangerous. I will totally fuck myself over if I don't get this shit out. Unfortunately, I seem to have become so self critical lately, I don't think I can even say what's on my mind "the right way".

I've become increasingly aware of people's perceptions on how we convey ourselves. We have to be grammatically correct, we must write beautifully, and we must interest others. As I've stated before, I do none of the above. I can't do any of the above, because it's not what I'm about. But I've realised lately, that suddenly I want to be heard. By anybody. Preferably by someone who's interested.

So in order to be heard, I wait.

I wait for the right time, to say the right thing, in order for the right person to hear me AND appreciate me.

Of course, this means I'll be waiting a very fucking long time.

Funnily enough, I partially blame twitter. There are an awful lot of people on there celebrating their achievements with others. I think this is fantastic. And also, there was once a time when I would have aspired to these people; to be like them, to be better than them; to achieve what they're doing and join the ranks of those who are succeeding.

Instead, I find myself shying away, taking annoying pity on myself (and trust me, it's fucking annoying) and wishing I could be as good as everyone else. Stupid thing is, I don't even know what it is I want to be good at any more.

Since the Classical Music rug was snatched from beneath my feet, and more and more "issues" come to light with my boys, I doubt myself and declare myself #FAIL in near enough everything I do. And it's driving me batshit.

"What about that photography malarky shit you had going on?" I hear you cry. Well, with every picture I take, I often think it's a load of shit. I don't take criticism well any more, so with every single piece of constructive criticism/feedback that came regarding my site, destroyed me a tiny little bit. Which is so fucking ridiculous, because people are trying to help me. And of course, I always appreciate help.

I just wish I knew how to accept it.

I'm thinking about taking a break. And by break, I mean no blogging, no twitter, no photography, nothing. Like, disappear off the planet for a while. I don't know how long a while is. Maybe a few days. Maybe a few weeks. No idea.

What's frustrating is I know that would be a really bad idea. If I lose contact with people right now, I'll start to dig deeper inside my head, and unearth the shit that I can't cope with right now (maybe not ever). Truth is, I need the help and support. I just don't know how to ask for it without being critical in return. It's all I've ever known, it's all I've ever done. Strive for the best, don't accept anything less. No one wants to know if you don't push hard 24/7. Only your best is good enough.

All that shit.

Which, unfortunately, stuck more than I'd have liked.

I wish I knew where I was going. I wish I knew what I could do. I wish I knew what or who to be.

I wish I was somebody.

Mother Doubter

2010-03-12T09:25:00.006Z

I suddenly understood one of the reasons I was struggling to accept Noah's "situation". Despite the fact that I've spent the last however many months fighting for people to listen to me, to just believe me when I thought there was something wrong.

And I understood even more when my doubts about Isaac were also realised.

I had questioned Isaac's growth rates since he was about 4 months old. He's been dropping through his centiles and pretty much flat-lining; his growth and gain has been minimal. And I mentioned this to the HV, almost regularly. Pretty much every time I took him to clinic. And it was the same response as with Noah's speech. "No no, he's fine, it's just because of *insert excuse here*, there's nothing wrong."

How many times did I continue to push my thoughts on the professionals because I was convinced something was wrong? How many times did I say that I wasn't convinced everything was ok, that a gut feeling, an "instinct", if you will, was telling me something wasn't right? And yet, repeatedly they told me to stop worrying about it? There's nothing to worry about, it's all fine?

Every day, at some point, three words slip from my mind to my mouth, but I never say them aloud because I don't actually want to say them.

Told. You. So.

I hate that I was right. Yes I wanted to find out what was wrong, I still wanted to be proved wrong so as not to be plunged into this eternal nightmare. Because now, all my other unspoken fears play at the forefront of my mind. Again.

And given that I had done everything within my power to not come across as a neurotic mother, labelling her kids with every god forsaken condition under the sun, I now start to wonder if my fears will be confirmed later on.

That's not to say I want to label my children. I don't want anything to be wrong with them. Of course I damn well don't! I'd like two healthy, happy boys, who I can love and care for, and do everything and anything I can within my power to see to there wellbeing.

But I doubt myself now. All the time. I question my every damn thought. And it's starting to destroy me and my relationship with them. I find myself switching off to various things they do, because I feel like if I can't suggest something might be wrong, then I need to be impervious to it all.

I hate myself for that. I hate not knowing how to deal with it all. I hate my current methods for dealing with it. I seem to have no happy medium; I have to go full force or else bury my head in the sand. Hide away and try everything I can to not just ignore a problem but ignore him entirely until I feel ready to fight again.

I swear to god. I hope, so badly, that in trying to give my kids the very best I can, I don't end up taking it all away from them. Because they only deserve the best.

The Gallery: 0

2010-03-10T11:33:00.006Z

Tara Cain does this pretty cool thing every week called The Gallery. I've been reluctant to get involved, mainly because I see everyone else's stuff and spend far too much time berating my own. But I need to get over that.

So I'm contributing this week, and the theme is numbers. It was a tricky one, I suck at stuff like that, but here goes.

This picture was taken down in Devon a few weekends ago (click the pic to see more from Devon). When I took the picture, I felt oddly breathless, a little strange and I couldn't work out why. The scene took my breath away, but scenery rarely does that for me.

On reflection, I realised it was because, for the first time in such a long time, I had done the one thing I've wanted to do for so very long.

To disappear.

Surrounded by what felt like sky scraping trees, I had finally disappeared and felt like no one would ever find me. I had become no one, invisible to all, hidden away, hoping never to be seen again. It was escape. Everything was lifted off me, for those few short moments. And yet, the stream of sunlight reminded me of my existence; like it was a spotlight just for me. Reminding me I'm not a big fat zero, but that I still count.

My number is 0. I was nothing. And somehow, I was everything I wanted to be.

(Thanks to Tara C, Dave F, Dave M and LeslieAnn. They know why.)

March "Year of Resolutions"

2010-03-08T13:11:00.003Z

Well, surprisingly enough, this whole YOR thing seems to be going ok. January finally came into fruition last Friday, and thanks to my distinct lack of self confidence, will probably last no longer than a month. Maybe two.

February is going better than expected, having lost 7lbs to date (bearing in mind I still eat a reasonable amount of crap), I've indulged in some DAMN HAWT underwear (no nursing bras!! OMG), which appear to be colourful and have a surprising amount of lace on them, my wardrobe has been emptied of nursing tops (although Isaac and I are still feeding - 10 months! Fuck yeah) and I recently purchased a pair of rather purtiful boots.

It's all quietly chuntering away, but I'm damn well pleased with myself that I've now completed two months.

So what's in store for March?

Well. It's a curious one, but something that seems to be happening a bit already so thought I'd make more of it.

March YOR, is to go out and meet more people. Not just people I already know, but more NEW people. People I've never met. Granted most of these people will probably be ones I know as a result of Twitter, but nonetheless, I've met some lately and had a great time. There are others I'm desperate to meet for the first time, some I've met and really want to see again...and I don't think there are any I've met and never want to see again. Heh.

There are major advantages to this particular YOR; Noah starts nursery in a few weeks, which will leave me with more travel time on my hands. I look forward to spending more time with Isaac, and he's a great traveller so he'll come with me if need be and it's appropriate. Evening jaunts, obviously, will be just me! I've really started to enjoy the time that's being given back to me lately; my trip down to Dawlish, Devon last weekend was fucking awesome, and I'm already looking into when I might be able to go again.

Then of course there's BlogHer 10 in August omfg NYC BAYBEE. When I finally pull my finger out, I need to get to making a list of people I want to meet. Cos OMFG NYC BAYBEE.

I'm not entirely sure how to go about meeting up with mew peeps though; many work in the day, obviously (and, it turns out, I have children), and it can sound a bit stalker-ish when I say to people "we need to meet up and have beer one evening", because I know that in their head, they're finishing that sentence with "so that I can follow you home, camp outside your house and most likely burn your bunny/goldfish/children".

This is NOT the case.

Promise.

Heh.

So! If you're up for meeting up, please do let me know. Although this is listed as March Year of Resolutions, of course it will carry on for the rest of the year providing it's successful...

Fancy meeting up?

Silent Sunday

2010-03-07T16:25:00.001Z

Catch Up

2010-03-05T19:34:00.004Z

There is SO MUCH STUFF GOING ON RIGHT NOWWWWWW GAAAAAAAHHHHH.

I don't know what to think. The whole deal and issues with Isaac and Noah - it's just too much right now. The implications (and believe me, I haven't even BEGUN to explore the implications just yet) behind the path to Noah's corrected speech, and Isaac's potential growth "problems"...fuck, I don't even know where to begin.

It turns out my brain has chosen not to absorb anything that is going on this week.

Including the fact that we had accepted an offer on our house (admittedly with the agent who is an arrogant fucker), and now we are a back on the market and down an agent. Because he chose to call me on the phone, accuse me of with-holding information (WTF? Dude I just wanna SELL MY DAMN HOUSE) and then hurl a barrage of abuse at me. Needless to say, we had just had enough. This wasn't the first time he had been obnoxious and rude down the phone; this time he chose to cross the line (so much so, the line became a dot to him). So buh-bye dude; take your offer, and your agreement, and shove it up your ass (if you can find room up there nest to your own head).

His office called me back trying to make amends, in the hope that we would still go through with their offer (which incidentally, was still less than our asking price *sigh*). Clearly he's bullied enough people to know he can get his way. Our dilemma is do we cut off a nose to spite the face, or accept that we may have to deal with him some more. I know, most of you are thinking just accept the offer and get the house sold already.

But we work on principle. And that is, we would sooner spend another 6 months in this house with our AWESOME agent and sell through them, than have anything more to do with tosser agents.

It seems silly, but trust me. I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of how unpleasant they've been (threatening to burn down our board? Wtf?), and we have well and truly reached limit with them.

Hmm.

I mentioned that my website is now up and running. This very idea is scaring the becheebus out of me; after the nightmare that became my music career, I feel like I'm about to launch myself into the same thing again. Here is my life, on the line. Here is me. Jay. Raw, for you to take a punch at. Here is my shit laid bare, and anyone and everyone may take a stab as they please.

I am 31 years old, and since the age of 5, music is pretty much all I've ever known. I feel like I'm venturing out on someone else's turf, and somehow question whether I belong here. I don't know what gives me the right to think I could have a go at this, and actually make something of it.

What I do know, is that I'm taking some fucking huge steps here. With my children, with my life, with me. And it's damn scary. Because it's all ventures in to the unknown. I'm fumbling in the dark. Is that why I'm not as phased as I should be?

Is it because, in the dark, I'm somehow dodging some major bullets out there?

I sure hope so.

*I wasn't going to call this post "Catch Up", but it turns out I already have posts in March 2008 and March 2009 by the same title. Maybe I'll start a new trend.

It's Because...

2010-03-04T23:48:00.008Z

It's been a mental week. We've been trying to digest the feedback about Noah. And we're struggling to get to grips with what's happening, oddly enough, despite being sort of prepared for what they were going to say. Maybe it's because Mrs ST called us up today and bumped us up for a food tolerance appointment. I was obviously pleased, but also unnerved as she asked me more questions over the phone about how he'd been since Monday.

And that's one reason I've barely posted this week.

Another reason, is because teh interwebz is bein cack. I spent 2 and a half hours on the phone to Virgin Media on Tuesday, ending up speaking to 4 different people. And still have the same problem. Fuckers.

Added to that, Isaac had is 8 month development check (yes, at 10 months), and Mme HV wants to refer him to a specialist. Because he's not growing. He's gaining pretty much no weight, is not getting longer and, well, yeah. She flagged it, wants him back to do more tests in 2 months at one year old, and wants us to go see the Dr in the meantime. Cos you know, I'm really enjoying being turned into the neurotic mother. Even though (and forgive me on this because I'm WAY too fucking overwhelmed this week), I'm almost...well...not bothered. Well, I AM bothered, obviously, but it hasn't hit me. I seem to have put up a considerable shield this week, and am now deflecting a good deal of shit.

And this. THIS is a big reason why I haven't posted.

Finally...

Presenting...

http://www.jaymountfordphotography.co.uk

I don't know where all of the above is going. And as a result, all of the above is scaring the cock out of me.

Speak Now, or Forever Hold Thy Peace

2010-03-01T13:38:00.004Z

I thought some other posts I'd written were pretty difficult, but for some reason, I'm really struggling with this one, having started it 4 times now. And I think that's because I'm trying really hard not to start on the defensive.

Which is, of course, nearly impossible for me.

Noah had his Speech Referral appointment today. He was brilliant, playing with the toys, feeding air tea to the bear, getting wound up when he couldn't balance the tea pot on Lofty, and driving a little toy bus over Speech Therapist's printer. He made his usual noises, said Mummy and Daddy clear as day, gave toys to Isaac to play with, and signed when he'd had enough and wanted to go home to eat. She was pleased to see him signing, and was very impressed by the number of signs he knew.

Ok, even as I'm typing I need to get one thing straight with everyone, because I just need to get it off my chest (mainly because I don't want to shout at those who are just trying to support me). I am not worried about him speaking. I know he will speak. I don't doubt at all that he will speak. I know he will not stay "unable to speak forever". I don't doubt my boy at all, in that sense. In fact, I'm incredibly confident he will speak.

You should also know, I'm not just saying this to fob you off, to shake you off my back. I'm saying it because I believe it more than any of you could ever know. So many people tell me not to worry, he will speak. I'm not worried. I know he will speak.

So what am I worried about? I'm worried, like any other mom who cares, about what it's doing to him until he DOES learn to speak. About what it's doing to US. He is so frustrated. If he doesn't know the sign, he points and points, repeating the same noise over and over again, usually until we're both yelling, shouting and/or in tears. This is a regular occurrence. And that's what worries me.

And I'm pushing this whole issue, because my boy cannot carry on like that. Life in this house cannot carry on like that.

So what happened today? Well I'm not entirely sure. I've come away with the most mixed bag of emotions ever. In short, she believes there is something not right with him. And she suspects one of three things (which I can't entirely remember because OMG how much stuff to take on board).

1) It's a hearing issue, though she highly doubts it.

2) It's a physical development issue (potentially related to his funny eating), which she thinks is most likely.

3) It's a form of Speech Dyspraxia, which if this is the case, will come to light more as he gets older, and she thinks this may be possible.

I feel strangely sad after this appointment. Everyone keeps saying "this progress is good!" which I understand. Everyone says "look! You're getting help now!" which I understand.

I really, really do.

But it's such a horrible position to be in, where you want to hear that your kid is ok but you want someone to believe you when you think something is wrong. And then when someone tells you something IS wrong, you really just wanted to hear "actually he's ok". And knowing that if someone had said "Actually, he's ok", you would REALLY want to have it confirmed that something is wrong.

I know that made no sense.

But I realised today that because of these emotions I'm actually in a no-win situation. Even though...well...we've won.

This is still making no sense.

At the end of the day, though it feels horrible to say this, I'm glad ST said there's something wrong (or in her words, "something not quite right") with his speech development, mainly because I feel justified in pushing as much as I did. Ok I'll say it even though I don't want to, "I told you so". But I didn't want to be right.

So at this point what happens next? Well he has more referrals for other appointments. He will have hearing tests, he has a food specialist appointment (he often gags while he eats) and will have another speech appointment shortly after those appointments. Which will probably be in about 6 months. She believes until those appointments, we need to carry on working just that little bit harder in encouraging him to speak, as we already are, and as I had already long since confirmed in my own mind, he will speak eventually, it will just take a little longer to get there.

The latter I was already prepared for; so many people saying it to me already, as I expect many more will do. I understand. I really do. But sometimes it gets frustrating, I guess, when it feels like people don't really believe me, and suspecting I'm fretting like crazy under the surface. The only thing I'm fretting about like crazy is whether the frustration will consume us all, and how much worse it will get before he starts to give himself a break of some sort.

I'm glad he's getting help now, even if it is a long haul. I can deal with that, because I already know what the outcome will be. I'm not glad that there's a problem. I didn't want my kid "labelled" or anything like that. I'm just glad that I'm finally getting the help and support we all need, which will hopefully make this journey a little easier on us all.

Which I think, at the end of the day, was all I wanted.

There's a Vlogolution?

2010-03-01T09:46:00.002Z

Everyone seems to be vlogging. It's the new thing. I'm quite proud to claim I've already vlogged in the past (but you'll have to rummage the archives to find them) and so here's my contribution. It's very um, informative.

Seriously.

Incidentally, Noah has his Speech Therapist appointment in about 2 hours. So hopefully this frustration will be over and they'll tell me to get over myself, right?

Right.

Silent Sunday

2010-02-28T21:21:00.001Z

Solution.

Explanation.

The Top 5

2010-02-23T15:28:00.007Z

Everyone has one. Even those who say they don't have one, they sooooo have one, and the more they deny, the more likely it's laminated and framed.

For those of you wondering what the fuck, I'm talking about, it's something people (often couples) do, where you each get to pick five different celebrities that you can sleep with, and the other one can't get mad. I originally discovered it on an episode of Friends. It changed my life.

Whilst I'm aware of D's Top 5, and approve highly (the man has

excellent, excellent taste), it occurred to me I hadn't sorted out my own. Whilst I've seen AWESOME Hot or Not contributions in the blogosphere (incidentally you have to click that link; it's a wicked blog and that post is particularly tasty), and others have contributed to it, I began to realise I don't have a Top 5.

W.T.F.

This is a crime in itself. I have a sort of top three-and-a-half, which obviously doesn't quite cut it, and is quite poor in fact. So I sat and had a thought about who would be in my Top 5, in no particular order:

1. Gordon Ramsay, International Michelin Star Chef

Ok. I know. I know, I know. You're all, "But he's a fucking arrogant fucker! And his chin is dented! And swears way too fucking much! And did you see his chin!!! And the bastard cannot get over himself! And fuck me, THE CHIN!!"

I couldn't give a monkey's. He's rugged. He's sexy. He is HOT. And not just hot, but DIRTY hot. Like, "If you wear that short skirt to dinner, you will have a good time with me" kind of hot. "I will probably try to do obscene things and most likely stare at your boobs" kind of hot. And the arrogance to go with it.

Because let's face it, he's hardly going to leave you half satisfied, is he? No.

He's going to make sure he does the job properly. And then will want to do it again, just to be sure.

And then, probably again, just to prove a point.

2. James Spader, American Actor

My first encounter with this fine piece of Man was when I happened to watch Secretary on tv. I wasn't impacted by is looks, but quite like the fact that he was a bit of a slut.

And then...omg and then came Boston Legal which sparked another sordid affair with myself and a dirty slut of a bloke, Alan Shore, James' character in the show.

Alan spends most of his time being the guy in an office who you try to avoid, because he'll letch all over you in a heartbeat. And much like Mr Ramsay, take any opportunity to try and have his dirty wicked way with you.

This guy? Does the best. Smut. EVER. And quite frankly, I often can't get enough smut; it's just awesome.

You thought I was bad? What, with repeated cockotations on twitter, and my boobs out in the ethos?

No. Go have another look at "smut" in your dictionary. It says "Alan Shore" (some dictionary's still say my name, but that's ok). And smutty is good. I'd like to see how long it would take him to break me. As soon as he did, I'd return the favour. Heh.

3. "Noted Fashion Photographer" Nigel Barker (Also panel judge on America's Next Top Model)

Quite possibly, one of the prettiest men I have EVER. SEEN. Like, this man should be put in a glass cabinet and ~~kept next to my bed~~ put in a museum for all to drool over.

And there's something about him. I totally imagine him to be a bit letchy, a bit dirty, a bit smutty (can you sense a theme here?). I've watched him on ANTM and seen him drool over some of the models...it's totally inappropriate, but who the hell cares?

He is HOT.

Sorry, he is HAWT.

And that's pretty much all there is that I need with him. I mean, sitting around making polite conversation will be the LAST thing on my mind.

Heh.

...

But here, we reach a problem. I only have 3, which doesn't work for a Top 5, obviously. Clearly I'm all about the dirty dirtiness that is filth, with a ~~dash~~ shit load of smut. And I totally understand that my preferences are most definitely not palatable with others. And vice versa. But I'm open minded!!

So who's on your list?

Actually...A Bit of Sunshine

2010-02-22T19:25:00.006Z

Omg. Like, seriously.

Omfg. Holy...omg.

So, I post a while back about how I'm struggling to meet demands and needs and everyone was all "Oh hell yeah girl, you are SO not alone, and we WILL support you". And I was all "holy fuck! Um thanks for your support dammit y'all are lovely!"

And then, cos to be honest I thought my blog was pretty shit but didn't particularly care, I wrote about who's to say a blog is good or bad because suddenly there was this crazy uproar about good blogs and bad blogs, and everyone was all "OMFG I'M A SHIT BLOGGER AND NOOOOOO!!!" and others were all "I BLOG AND TOTALLY KICK YOUR ASS MOMMY MO FOOOOOO!!!"

(The whole thing made me laugh to be fair, and I still smirk when I read my own input, but you know.)

And you were all "GOOD FOR YOU. And also? YOUR BLOG ROX. And COCK". And I couldn't love you all enough for that, because I know I blog shit sometimes (a lot of the time) and you were all so fucking lovely about it and made me smile 'n' shit.

And then, on a whim (after speaking to a BLOODY LOVELY friend who is so damn nice I want to dislike her but she's too flippin lovely, DAMMIT), I posted about how we beat ourselves up for the most innocent of things, and as parents (moms AND dads) we are particularly hard on ourselves, and suddenly I have people I have never ever known in anyway, coming to me to leave support. Not just for me, I hasten to add, no no. Not at all. To leave support for EVERYONE who has gone through the same.

And if I'm honest, I'm totally fucking overwhelmed. People sent me messages about how they've done the same, how they found me, how the post moved them and touched them, they've reposted it, they've ReTweeted it...and I've never known anything like it.

Ironically, I felt bad that I stopped replying in comments because I got so overwhelmed with the responses. And oddly enough, I suddenly wondered if I was going to be under a lot of pressure to write more profoundly amazing posts.

I won't promise to do it, because like I said in a previous post, I don't write specifically for others, I write what comes to me naturally. So if you get another amazing post, then um, it'll be a miracle!

But something made me seriously want to address the posts I've written and it was in reaction to you amazing people. I've received an award from MommaRuthSays in the past, and then suddenly I had another 2 awards in the short space of time. I confess I uhm'd and ah'd about responding; truth be told? I honestly didn't think I deserved them, mainly because I was too busy reeling from the shock of everything else. But obviously, I have to get over myself.

And so, my many, MANY thanks go to Bare Naked Mummy for awarding me the Sunshine Award because I'm a little bit of sunshine to make us feel better (oh hell yeah!!) and Rosie Scribble, who has also given me the Sunshine Award and is SOOOO lovely. I gotta say, I'm pretty fucking pleased about this, the timing could not have been ANY BETTER.

I hate not being able to thank everyone individually, but I swear there have been SO MANY messages, by the time I respond, blogging will be extinct. So I feel a bit pathetic with this offering, but, well, thank you.

Thank you. So much.

Resentment, Regret and a Whole Lot of Selfish

2010-02-19T12:07:00.005Z

I very, very rarely regret my actions. I'm very much "this is how I roll, if you don't like it, go away". And, I try to learn from my actions as best as possible.

Sometimes however, I'm full of regret as soon as I've done something. And usually it's related to the boys. And even more worryingly so, the regret tends to come straight after resentment. Which comes from me wanting to be selfish.

The Boys have been ill for approximately 17 years. Which means many, many tears. And tantrums. And sitting in the rocking chair, watching Disney Pixar DVDs over and over (and over) again. With the two of them slumped on me, fighting for space on my lap, heads resting on my chest.

I'll be honest. I have my laptop/iPhone glued to my side, because if I don't, then I have no contact with the outside world. And of course, if there are two Small people clamoring to be on my lap, then it makes it a little difficult to get anything done. And of course, trying to work on my website (which at the moment, is the slowest process EVER), take some half decent pictures and maintain small (but much appreciated) friendships...well...there are moments when I struggle.

Noah sidles up to me and pats my lap. Then he signs "cuddle". And will do so repeatedly. And of course it's the cutest thing ever. But not always. Not when you just want those 5 minutes, when you want your own time out, to have that small connection with the outside, to switch off from everything child/baby related. And there is step one: Selfish.

I want my time. My time. But I don't get that time. Because I'm on call. For the boys. Because they need my time. And as their mom, they should get my time whenever they want or need it. And suddenly we're at step two: Resentment.

It's not fair, right? I want to be able to just snap my fingers and demand time. I want to be able to drop everything going on and suddenly have my own time out, the way I want it. But it's not fair right, because they're babies. Even when I ignore him a few more times than perhaps I should, or perhaps when I plop him on my lap, give a half hearted cuddle then turn back to my laptop, surely that's all unfair on them. Final stop: Regret.

The quality time that I (should) spend with them is tainted because all I want is escape. I don't want to be glued to the TV. I want to be immersed in my own world. Doing my own things. Seeing my own sites. Literally. For the last two nights, I've worked into the night, going to bed at 3 a.m., savoring my time without being disturbed. And I'm full of regret that I have to do it that way.

I regret feeling the resentment and selfishness, to do what I want to do. But ironically, only this morning, I "told a friend off" for feeling guilty about wanting to spend time without her boy, but not getting that chance.

Where do we get off beating ourselves up, just for being human? Just for wanting to be human? Just for wanting to retain that shred of identity, that sense of self, that 5 minutes of selfishness that surely we deserve? When we have a drink that we just want to drink but can't get to, a phone call to a friend that we want to make but can't because of the fussing and whining, the email/blog post we want to read but can't because it takes 19 attempts and by the time you HAVE read it, it's three days later?

I have spoken to various people this last fortnight, and it's given me some very interesting food for thought. First of all, it's amazing how many people (ironically, non-parents) take parenting for granted. To assume what various aspects of parenting are like, without ever having been there. And by been there, I mean actually been a parent. And I think until you've been there, until you have had that child demanding you all the live-long day, there can be no assumptions. There can be some understanding, but it's limited. I never knew it would (could) be like this. I had some idea, but even my ideas weren't close.

Another realisation, was that there are many who had forgotten that as a parent, for some it can be near impossible to switch off. In fact, to just stop being a parent for 5 minutes. Even when you're away from the kids, you're out with friends, you're blinding drunk, you're away from them; whatever. There is no time out. There is no turn off. There is no holiday. You sign up for the job, and it becomes yours, for the foreseeable until the inevitable. And if you fuck it up, there is no do-over. You don't get that time back.

And right there, is resentment, regret and selfishness all rolled into one. Sometimes, I ask the question: Does that process of understanding these steps make me to be a better parent? One who cares as much as they should? Or am I being, like untold numbers of other parents out there, way too hard on myself? Or maybe, just maybe, this is the worst parenting ever, and I should add (more) guilt to the list? If that's the case, then that's a shame.

Because I'd be willing to bet that would mean there's an awful lot of other bad parents out there. Parents who just want to be.

Diptych - Cold

2010-02-19T01:40:00.004Z

Thanks to Miss Grace, I'm trying out something new.

There are a few projects going on at the moment, and this is one I've had my eye for some time. I decided to stop wondering, and just do it.

The theme is "Cold", the rest is your imagination.

I'm a Good Blogger and this post is SHIT because I SAID SO.

2010-02-17T21:59:00.008Z

Today, it all kicked off in the Blogosphere. Apparently, to have a good blog, we're supposed to write what we like, but make sure it complies with what people like; we're meant to be ourselves, but aspire to be someone else; we should be interesting, but real; we should include lots of links to others, but write about ourselves.

And if you want to be a "Top Blogger", you have to do all of the above and much, MUCH more.

Which is why, this post will be utterly shit, because I? Will not conform to any Rules of Blogging. Which makes me a good blogger. Nyer.

What I WILL do, is blog the following.

Today, my arse appeared in #assmail on Boob Emancipation. Given that I have now discovered I can take a pic of my own arse in the shower, I am proud as FUCK.

I have a fixation for boobs. I am not lesbian. But I DO think boobs should be celebrated. As should many asses.

Today, Noah barfed up his breakfast at the table, then started listening to said table. Like, head down, ear pressed, smiling at the table. And dancing slightly.

Whilst Noah was doing the above, Isaac was laughing hysterically at his thumb, whilst eating his breakfast.

Shortly after, Noah ralphed all down his front and on the floor. Whilst cleaning this up, Isaac crawled over and puked on my feet. Whilst cleaning all this up, he went to go bang his head on the corner of the table.

I often do not care what people think. About my blog, or me, or whatever. Sometimes I'm sorry, but often I'm not. And that's how my shit rolls.

I love comments. Good and bad. However I do not live or blog for comments. But I ALWAYS appreciate comments. I will not fall apart if there are no comments. But I might consider kicking some ass. I might not always RESPOND to comments, because of course, I am shit, but still. Always nice to have them, even if they make you look like a fucktard. Because I can look back and say "Oh, hi Fucktard!" Or I can look back and say "Cock. You're all being nice and I dunno what to say. Um, thanks."

I love smut. Throw in a cock, and I'm happy.

I managed to make someone feel quite shit today. It wasn't intentional by any means, but frustration (and fear?) got the better of me. And so, as you all know what I'm like, I started to tell it like it is. I don't think he hates me (much), but you may now call me one of the biggest bitches out there. And I suspect he may avoid me for a little while. Unfortunately, I do not know how to be straightforward without being an absolute prunt*. But I suspect I won't change. At least I didn't go all the way and let it all out. Yeah, cos that makes it better.

I regularly like to exclaim "cock" on twitter. It makes me feel better, and smile. It makes me feel even better when people say/shout "cock" at me. That makes my day.

In keeping with February YOR, today I managed to complete Day 6 of the 30 Day Shred. I can get to circuit 3 without screaming, I no longer crawl up the stairs, a pair of my trousers are a teeny bit loose, my boobs are shrinking but so is my belly, and hotness will soon be mine.

January YOR is well under way, and holy fuck, it might even be live by the end of this month. The number of photographers on twitter is making me SHIT myself. Which reminds me, one of my fave photographers who is also a good friend, was featured in Photo Pro Magazine this month. And by featured, I mean OMFG 5 PAGE SPREAD WTF AWESOMENESS. Added bonus? Well. You had all better recognise that baby and squooshy mouth, or I shall hunt you down and yell at you a lot.

That is all.

And now? Please to look at pictures, in the hope of making distracting you from my crap blog with AHWW!!!! LOOK AT TEH CUUUUUUTE!

Yes I know. You totally forgot what you were going to say, right?

Allow me to distract you some more.

IN. DEED.

This is how we roll.

* Thanks to Karl Erikson for use of the word "prunt". Tis awesome.

17 Million Ways

2010-02-15T13:33:00.003Z

I'm at breaking point. But this time, it's a different kind of breaking point. I'm not longing for the black shroud (as much as usual), but instead, I want to escape and live. There is so much going on, and I so desperately want to be a part of it. Of ALL of it. I don't even know where to start.

There are people I want to see, places I want to go, things I want to do, but i just don't seem to have the time to do them. And when I get to one thing, something else calls and I have to deal with that instead.

Lately I've found myself saying "can you just hold on? There's only one of me", all too often. Everyone wants something, and I'm running out of myself to give. I try to hold on to some of me to save for the things I want so desperately to give to (my husband? my children? Myself??), but I feel so damn stretched, to breaking point, to exhaustion.

I feel there is so much expected of me; everyone wants something of me, and it has to meet a standard. I'm (almost) always funny on twitter, so it doesn't feel right if I'm feeling shitty. Supposedly, that should reflect on my blog, so this should be funny too. Instead, it's not. I go from hilarious crazy ass posts, to ones that leave you feeling like you never knew me. And whichever way I go, guilt also ensues.

I was talking to someone who's become a very good friend recently, about parenting and how real we actually are with each other. I couldn't agree with her more when she said there are too many people out there who paint an eternally picturesque beautiful scene. To which I added "yeah, where everyone shits roses" (she's much better spoken than myself, to be fair). And this is the truth. Not enough parents (moms especially) admit to how crap this job really can be.

It's currently early afternoon, and today has been shit. I've been trying to work on my website all morning (with very little success), the boys Grandparents came to visit (which got to the point where Noah was jumping off the damn furniture and throwing a ball at the damn tv).

By the time nap time came around, I just wanted a break. I just wanted the 12pm lunch/nap time routine to run as smooth as possible, so I could just get 5 mins of peace. It ended up with Isaac fussing in his cot for half an hour. Not so bad. Noah however, ended up in a time out, a bloody lip, a cut face, yelled and shouted at, a broken drawer (which I have now fixed) and a mother who now feels the epitome of shit.

And all because I was too damn impatient for my 5 minutes. And now Isaac is awake, and instead of thinking "Yeah! I get to have a cuddle with him!" I think to myself "Please, just go back to sleep and leave me alone."

Guess I'll be back in a minute.

...

Quite suddenly, I seem to have made some damn awesome friends. I don't think I've ever had friends like these, where I feel I could actually tell them just about anything and they'd stick around for more than 5 minutes to sit and listen (WITHOUT interrupting). And these are people I want to spend time with. People who give a shit about me. But I feel so tied down, and this damn guilt overrides everything I think. And then when people say "where are you? What's going on?" I wonder what the hell I'm supposed to do, because I'm just busy trying to take care of my shit. And sometimes it just seems like there's a whole lot of shit to take care of.

I love my boys (all three of them) so very much. I would do anything for them. But at the same time, I feel like there is nothing I can do for them. I often feel like I'm causing more harm than good. Noah and Isaac have been poorly with one thing and another for nearly a month now, so Cabin Fever is in full force. So I can't take them out. We can't go and visit people. We're stuck indoors. And Noah shows little interest in activities; drawing, stickers and chalking ends after about 5 minutes, usually in tears (of what? I don't know. Frustration? Boredom? You tell me, because? I can't understand him).

Isaac spends the best part of the day causing serious trouble; he's trapped his fingers in everything in which there is to trap them. He isn't walking, so cruising round the furniture regularly means he slides off and hits head on the nearest sharp object, even if it isn't nearby. Somehow. He's much more wimpy than Noah, so spends a good part of the day in tears. Again, not helped with him being poorly.

And there are days when all I want to do is just chat on Twitter. It's like some horribly addictive drug that I can't get enough of; like some kind of club that you've always wanted to be a part of and if you're a member, you have to work hard to stay a member. But it's always worth the effort.

But at what point do I stop? I've got so many things booked for the next few weeks (including meeting new friends I haven't yet met before, travelling to Devon on my own for a weekend, going to a photography exhibition on my own, birthday parties and much more). But where and how do I draw the line and say, "this is it - I need to cut out this and that; I need this person and that person to just give me a bit of space; I need a BREAK." How does one do that, without feeling the guilt? As a mom? Who. Just. Wants. Some. Time.

Does it happen? Because if I'm pulled in any more directions, I am surely going to rip.

Fings What Ave Made Me Smile Dis Week

2010-02-13T09:14:00.009Z

(Because whilst Jillian Michaels kicks my ass, she also seems to be pummeling my brain)

I can't stand opera. After watching this? I LOVE IT.

I can't even decide which song is my fave, I'm ususally in hysterics by the end of Snoop Dogg.

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Given my (slight) addiction to yelling the word "cock" when things go wrong (or, any time I tweet/open my mouth), a lovely friend on Twitter informed me of this.

I may be immature, but I swear to God, I CAN NOT stop laughing every time I look at this!!

*snigger*

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Some lovely links on other people's blogs; that's always incredibly flattering. Especially when it's about my appearance (which I'm always wary of) from Mary Ruth, or recommendations to see what I'm up to from Tara Cain.

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I have no idea why, but this ALWAYS makes me laugh. It's not even funny.

But it's SO. FUNNY.

(Click to make it big)

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Satan's Thong. Omg, you...you just have to go look.

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This kid, despite driving me batshit on somedays, has been a real dude. He LOVES playing with this.

And on the subject of His Royal Dudeness, we received our letter asking if we would like to accept a place for him at the nearby private school. He starts First School in like, a month and a half.

I wouldn't normally be happy (because I'd be too busy being terrified) but then I saw the school uniform for September, and almost died from teh cuuuute!!

My BFF

2010-02-11T08:54:00.004Z

I made a new friend recently, and it's someone who I didn't expect to make such good friends with. I haven't spent very much time with them at all, but already they've had an impact on me in a way that I could never have foreseen.

They motivate me, they encourage me, they compliment me, they support me...lots of things that I would ask for in someone whom I plan on spending an awful lot of time with. They understand me; in the short space of time, they know me. And that's awesome.

One of the things that I was surprised at, was how they made me feel. There's a rush of emotions and things; exhilaration, nerves, fear, excitement, and well, this morning I woke up pretty much weak at the knees. That's a first, but I half expected it. But it was still a great feeling.

The strange thing is, I think I've been looking for this person for a long time. But I didn't realise I was looking for them until suddenly out of the blue. A light went on in my head, and I thought, yes, this is what I want. This is what I've been looking for, I've needed this person in my life for a few years now.

Now, if I'm honest, I think it's the most unlikely friendship I could have formed. Seriously. Had I passed this person on the street? I probably wouldn't have taken a second glance. I probably wouldn't even have anything to say. But having been properly introduced, and despite what they've done to me, I have no regrets as yet; in fact I'm looking forward to spending more time with them, even though it's limited to such short periods.

Oddly enough, it's kind of freaky that to accommodate this 30 Day Fucking Shred, I have had to adopt Jillian Michaels as my BFF. She will help me with my February YOR. We had our first date last night, and despite being unable to get up and down the stairs today, I'm hoping this is the start of a long and beautiful relationship. She's all of the above and more. I love her so much.

And then maybe one day I'll kick her butt. Soon as I get the feeling back in my legs.

Award Winning

2010-02-09T19:34:00.006Z

Thank you very very very much indeed to Momma Ruth over at mommaruthsays who's nominated me for my FIRST EVER AWARD!!!! Which...must mean I'm doing something right...

Here's the instructions:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award
2. Paste the award on your blog
3. Link the person who nominated you for the award
4. Tell 7 interesting things about yourself
5. Nominate 7 bloggers or less
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominated.

So now apparently, I'm supposed to list 7 interesting things about myself. This could be quite a challenge. What I CAN do, is list 7 pointless things about me that you may or may not have known. So erm, yeah.

1) When I was 9 years old I spent 3 months in Jamaica with my Grandfather, and without any other family. I was only meant to be there for 4 weeks, but Hurricane Gilbert arrived and I had to stay out there until it passed.

2) I've given birth to 22lb of baby in less than two years. And yes, I only have 2 children.

3) I do not, have never and probably never will consider myself to be a "Yummy Mummy".

4) I would like to consider myself to be a MILF. Yeah, I said it. And yeah, there's a difference.

5) I have a very, VERY soft spot for James Spader. Especially in Boston Legal. Mmmmmmmmmm.

6) I would like my bra size to be 36H again. I miss those. E cups will do for now.

7) I regularly feel intimidated by an awful lot of people in the Blogosphere and on Twitter. I'm not entirely sure why.

Next I have to nominate 7 bloggers or less. I can't possibly choose just 7. So I'll choose 6 instead.

3 Bedroom Bungalow

Sleep is For The Weak

Are We Nearly There Yet Mummy?

Why Is Daddy Crying?

Single Parent Dad

Checking The Electrical Box

Mindless Monday

2010-02-08T21:47:00.008Z

This is how I am spending my evening.

This is how I'll be spending tomorrow evening.

(Seriously. DVD ordered and everything. Jillian will have a great time whooping my wobbly ass into shape.)

My theory is, screw the fact that I'm carrying extra poundage, but let's at least make an effort to make it look like attractive poundage. I'm bored of having my belly rest on my crotch when I sit down.

In keeping with January's YOR, I'm still posting a pic a day on flickr. It's...a little unsettling, taking a pic of myself every day and staring at it trying to decide if I like it. Which of course, I don't, because I have a spotty chin, my eyebrows are fucked, and I often look stoned. Or, as someone else pointed out, worried.

Rabbit in headlights springs to mind.

But hey, it means I get my camera out. In last night's shoot I got my boobs out. But no, they don't make an appearance, because you know, I'm trying to keep it tasteful.

This will not last long.

I've also booked me a ticket to a photography show at the NEC, which is really surreal, especially as I booked myself as a photographer.

As in -

Name: Me

Address: Here

Occupation: Photographer (wtf?)

Company: Jay Mountford Photography (say what now?)

(I'm STILL working on my site. WordPress opens a can of Whoop-Ass on me every time I look at it.)

Unfortunately, I am not Hot (February YOR). What I am, is full of cold. So much FOF, I may have dribbled a little snot on Isaac's leg, and in Noah's hair today. You know when it's just so watery, and you don't move quick enough to catch it? It's kind of like that. I hate that. It's messy. So I kind of end up sitting around with a tissue wedged up my nose.

...hmm.

On reflection, that's definitely not hot.

BUT. I have managed to wear fucking sexy bras and various thongs/French knickers for the last week-ish. Which of course has leaded to no action at all, because all I want to do is sleep. But you know, there's been plenty of heavy breathing and stuff.

...while I sleep.

That's not to say, D does stuff to me while I sleep.

Because he doesn't.

...I think.

Look, you know what I mean.

Maybe I should just start working on March YOR, and let Jillian get on with a little ass-whoopin'. That's hot, right?