Pearl's Bed

It's a bit of a rite of passage when you say goodbye to the baby cot and hello to the big boy bed. I felt all kinds of disloyal sending his crib to certain death at the tip, after it had cradled not only my babies but Margaret's two girls, and now I am thinking I could have re-purposed it into something wonderful if only I had that kind of time...

Let Down Your Hair

...Oh, and it was Rapunzel's birthday.

Travelling Without Moving

Summer flew past at breakneck speed as usual and now Lily is back at school, the nights are drawing in and Sam is embracing The Terrible Twos with as much gusto as he can muster. His obsessive nature continues, main preoccupations are still paintbrushes and feathers but with cotton wool balls thrown in to the mix, oh and a brief flirtation with Thomas The Tank Engine which I am sure could be a lot worse but his cruel Mother keeps steering him towards The Clangers instead.
Life is lazy, I am not achieving as much as I know I should be work wise, continually distracted by more pressing projects such as changing the nature table or throwing parties for dollies, but I can honestly say these days of watching my children blossom seem quite fulfilling enough. I feel content and grounded and those restless, nagging, desperate moments of needing change have evaporated, for the time being at least.

Year One

Happy Birthday Noodle

The Noodle is 2 now and Pretty Darned Cute to Boot.

Zibellina

Sam has switched his feather duster obsession to paintbrushes, a smaller, more portable and certainly more plentiful commodity in our house. It is the first thing he asks for on waking and the last thing he puts away before bed. Woe betide those who try to prise his treasure off him, plaintive cries of 'Plaint....Blush ....Pleeaaze will ensue relentlessly until you yield. Initially I started convincing myself he was destined to be the next Klee or Kandinsky but the little fellow is not in the least bit interested in using them for what they were intended, no, The Noodle just wants to carry them around, poke them in to his pockets or rub them gently on his cheek which unfortunately means my expensive sable* brushes are the best find of all.

*Imitation only. No Sables were harmed in the hands of The Noodle.

Little Mermaid

I found watching Lily at her swimming lessons yesterday somehow ridiculously emotional, I wonder if it's because I so clearly remember my own at her age? There is something extremely evocative about Swimming Baths; the strong smell of chlorine, the muffled, distorted sounds of other swimmers and the rhythmical slosh of water against the sides of the pool. I would go with an 'Aunt'. rarely my Mother. I was made to stand on a long slatted wooden bench and then stripped and squeezed in to my sister's hand-me-down costume, hair painfully wrenched back and twisted in to a ridiculous bathing cap. Clip on my nose. Afterwards, dried with a sandpaper towel and doused head to toe in talc I ate sandwiches in the viewing area, sometimes if I had swam particularly well I was allowed a sip of my 'Aunt' Muriel's hot syrupy coffee.
Lily is swimming lengths now, with a small float or woggle, but full lengths of the big pool no less. When she is in the water she never stops smiling as if so content to be back in her natural habitat.
I remember feeling that way too.