Friday, 29 April 2011

Royality Loyality.


{Image: Just}

As you will know if you follow me on Facebook...(and yes, I will give you a couple of minutes to hit 'like' to join me)

I watched the Royal Wedding this morning.

As I live in the UK, I watched it at 11am. On YouTube. 

This means I didn't stumble on it by chance or by channel hopping. This means I knew YouTube were showing it live. 

I thought to myself last night: "Oh I'll just have a look at the dress then that will be all." But I was glued to my screen for an hour this morning. An hour.

The dress: 
I loved it. I read that the train was 2m 70cm and was shocked - umm it really didn't look that big! Also, didn't Diana have a 200m long train or something? I was expecting something out of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding (image of one of their monostrosties below) minus the fake tan.

A toilet roll topper or bride? You decide.
Prince William:

This is where I make a confession. I used to have a picture of Prince William in my school homework diary over 10 years ago. Is it just me or is he going bald? Now, don't get me wrong, I think bald men are attractive, but when they start to resemble Prince Charles or *shudder* The Duke of Edinburgh, they become less attractive. A lot less attractive. Every time the camera moved at a certain angle we'd both shout out; "Wow! Look at that bald spot on his head!" and by 'we' I mean me and B. Yes, he watched it with me. 


They don't half drag these things out. I just wanted to see them do the wave-kiss thing on the balcony of Buckingham Palace once they'd done the official ceremony. But it wasn't on till after an hour of showing various plebs in the waiting crowd outside the Palace. What's with that?


Um, Eugene and Beatrice, this one is for you ladies. What the heck were you wearing on your heads? Did you go into the hat shop (and yes I am aware that technically they are called 'fascinators') and ask for one dead duck and another pair of antlers to wear on your heads on the Big Day? I have two theories on their choice of head gear: 1. they were styled by Lady Gaga or 2. they were annoyed at not being bridesmaids and so turned up looking ridiculous to upstage the day - I'm going for 2. It's funnier. 

I'm not sure they got the memo on the no fake tan thing.
Anyway...I can't believe I'm talking like this. Like one of those annoying 'Royal Correspondents' I don't like and snark at every time I see their faces on This Morning or some such other ridiculous British talk show where everyone talks like they're best buds with the Monarchy. 

So normal business shall resume after this post, but I wanted to share my commentary on 'one of the biggest days of this century' - says who? And I believe that was reserved for my wedding in 2009 ;).

My husband is wearing a kilt. 
Not a skirt, just wanted to clear that up.

Oh yeah...and one of the 'dudes' (is that offensive? Am I allowed to call a Holy Man a 'dude'? Too bad, I just did it) conducting the ceremony said something very cheesy;

"Every wedding is a royal wedding."

Is it now? Where was my horse drawn carriage and diamond tiara*?

*Just so you know...I am not a diva. I would have been happy getting married in a bin liner. Luckily I had MASSIVE amounts of help (and/or pity) bestowed on me by a very clever person who knew better than me

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Wednesday, 27 April 2011

Best Day in a While.

Image: Sweater: hand-knitted by Mama K. 

He wanted to be held.

I mean, don't get me wrong, he is rather much a snuggle bug at the best and worst of times, but today there was something different. He molded himself into the curves of my body and let himself be held; cuddled and snuggled - and even kissed without brushing my hand away. 

Of course my first thought was; "He must be ill." I check his temperature and it was stable. Then I remember. He was kicking and singing in bed an hour and a half after bedtime - eventually the singing turned to little mews and the mews turned into all out 'if you don't get me I'll really lose it' screams. I usually leave him a good while if he's only making little interested noises, but when he screams it doesn't matter how long you leave him, he will lose the plot and take a while to calm down. So not worth that.

He's a great sleeper. We haven't had a lot of issues with his sleeping; I'd say his pattern fits in nicely with us - how polite and considerate of him ;). 

I do, however, remember those crazy few months that were coma-like through lack of sleep, then all of a sudden out of nowhere he was sleeping through the night - the magic 5 month mark where he got the memo on the day and night thing.

These days, at 14 months, we're experiencing a whole new side to things.

He's nearly walking.
He's mastered so many techniques that I believe we're on the brink of his first steps.

So he doesn't want to be on a knee, cuddled up and getting covered in kisses, he wants to be getting this toy, that toy and whatever other dangerous things he can grab before I run to him, moving like a tornado and knocking everything down in my wake.

Today, it was a different set of rules than what normally applies around here.

Today he wanted to be cuddled, kissed and loved on. And that made a great start to my day.

I felt happier with him on my knee - I'm not someone who hands out hugs to a lot of people I know and as a general rule of thumb I'm not so much into physical contact, but with my son, I adore each moment of hugs we get. I know they won't last. I know that he's going to tell me he hates me about a hundred times a day. I know one day he's going to do things that will make me hang my head in shame - especially in public (or you know, maybe he won't and I'm jumping the gun. Let's keep our fingers and toes crossed on that one!)

I thought about the sometimes emotional and physical distance I put between me and the ones I care about and I'm not an emotional moron; I have no fear in telling people how I feel, but what I do fear is them disregarding those feelings or pretending I said nothing - all of which have happened to me in previous, really crappy, pointless past relationships.

I gave them the biggest piece of me and they took that for granted.

And now I am terrified this will happen again. And again. And again.

But why am I so free with my emotions and physical contact with my son? I guess he's never done anything to harm me - okay, childbirth was kind of an option I opted for so we can't count that. And the reassuring thing is that at least I know for the meantime he's never been hurt the way I have. I know if he swats away my kisses or squirms under my grasp that he's not doing it because he doesn't know how to deal with me - he's doing it because he's more interested in grabbing plugs, books and other items that happen to be lying around.

So when he comes to me out of his own free will and choice I know he wants to be there -  he's not doing it because he feels obligated or he has to stand by me because 'that's what you do.'

Or maybe, he's just tired and wants a comfy Mum Pillow ;) - who knows?

{Psst! I'm making a secret video that not even B knows about and I am super, duper trooper looper excited about it!}

I wish I had a better camera, but with what I have, I really think I've done an excellent job and I am loving how it looks! It should be ready very soon, so stay tuned for dates for the big reveal!

Oh yes, and as ever, if you've had a broken heart, a silly relationship or your child has done something sweet lately I REEEAALLLLY love those stories and would double love you to post your comments below!

& Some shameless self promo:

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Tuesday, 26 April 2011


Well hello there :).

I want to make some changes to my blog; to make it more user-friendly and easier to navigate.

As I'm not a design pro and a mum, this might be more of a drip by drip change ;). First change to take place is my new header - do you like it? I do. So why have I changed it? To go in line with the new upcoming style I have planned, of course!

Welcome to our new followers and hello to our loyal followers who've been here from the start.

I have a few posts planned but I'm also looking for GUEST POSTERS

Guest Bloggers can join me on this blog!

This will be the first time I have invited guest posters onto my blog but I have decided to invite some :).

What I'm looking for:

500 words on any topic of your choosing, from the following topics:

  • Cloth nappies/diapers.
  • Breastfeeding.
  • Weaning.
  • Keeping children occupied.
  • Birth stories.
  • Pregnancy stories.
  • Married life.
  • Getting free from debt.
  • Recipes (especially vegan.)
I'm so looking forward to hearing and sharing your stories! 

Please leave me a comment if this sounds like something you'd be interested in doing.

Sunday, 24 April 2011


I could overwhelm you with my heart felt beliefs about Easter.

I could write a poem and post it on here about Easter.

I could sing you a song about Easter.

Instead, I decided to make a video of Roman opening his first ever Easter egg.

(Excuse my croaky voice, I have had a sore throat for about two weeks now and I'm slowly losing my voice.)

This is his second Easter but his first time with his own whole Easter egg.

When I was a kid there was no strict policing on Easter eggs that I seem to recall - you were given the eggs and gorged on them until you were sick - and in my case that happened a lot, because I was greedy and had no will power when it came to sweet 'treats' (is it really a treat when too much of the good stuff can cause Type 2 Diabetes?)

Buut I do remember one year; we got Cadbury's Creme Eggs every single year from my Granny and Granpa Kirk. Without fail. I loved this because Creme Eggs were my favourite of favourites. And let's face it every piece of confectionery was my favourite - I didn't discriminate. Well, this one year, my parents got the Creme Eggs early. Not wanting to release the goods until nearer Easter they kept them in a 'safe' cupboard (where little children wouldn't go prying, I assume.)

Well, one night, the Creme Eggs started calling out to them. And do you know what those little Creme Eggs were saying?


And so they did. It must have taken them a while to plough through 6x4 Creme Eggs (you do the calculations), but they were scoffed. We didn't get Creme Eggs that year.

As a parent I had my own Creme Egg Incident this year - minus the Creme Eggs.

Roman got his egg early, too, you see. And in this egg package was a bar of chocolate. As you may or may not know I have given up chocolate - I don't want Type 2 Diabetes, seriously, I am paranoid about this.

However, one night, it was shouting at me. Over and over again. And do you know what it was saying?


And well, it had been a long day where I'd missed at least two meals - I sometimes get so tired that lifting a fork is a great effort - and I felt like eating it. 

I split it with B (who got about 4 squares) and did I feel bad? A little bit. You see I was literally stealing candy from a baby*. 

And well, it never tasted so good ;).

*Roman disclaimer: I really have nothing to say for myself on this matter. I did a bad thing. I broke my chocolate fast. But let's be real here for a second, (and justify our wrongs) how long would it have taken one little boy to get through so much chocolate? Exactly. I rest my case.

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Friday, 22 April 2011


I was thinking about friendships.

I don't normally let people 'in' - and by 'in' I mean into my little inner circle of trust, kind of like that same inner circle of trust in Meet The Parents.

The truth is I'm not a good friend.

I don't call people up - asides family - and I don't even arrange to meet friends all that often, if ever, these days.

I'm not being rude. I'm not avoiding anyone. I just don't want to get in anyone's way.

I have this complex where I believe that after a certain amount of time has passed that people grow tired of me. I have no reason for them to think this. 

I am also constantly battling through this thick fog of ill-health and dealing with it...I just don't want to sit down and share my life with people. It's too much to have friends right now.

But rest assured, the friends I know, they are always the best of friends in the end.

They always come through and I like to think (in my own way) that I come through for them. 

But why do I always hit the 'hermit' button once a friendship reaches a certain level? I'm such a commitment flake with friendships.

I have reached the conclusion that I'm too ill for people to deal with. I can't keep up their pace, so I don't even try.

I remember a while ago I had a misunderstanding with a friend. I didn't even argue back, I just had no fight left in me. This is not like me at all because I usually fight to defend myself, but I just couldn't be bothered. 

So while everyone thinks I'm being rude or ungrateful, if you're reading this, and you're a friend or we've had the odd brilliant conversation and I haven't picked it back up again know that I am not being rude and I am 100% grateful for you coming into my life.

That being said, just remember I am flaky with friendships right now ;). 

When my health is bad, getting back to a reasonable footing in my life always has to come first.

Wednesday, 20 April 2011


A few days ago I went outside.

This was a big deal to me because it's not something I do a lot of; going out.

I am mostly housebound with M.E. 

Before I knew I had M.E. I used to tell myself "just get on with it, pull yourself together, everyone else manages more than you."

But it's just not like that.

I wish it were that easy.

I have told myself these things and it hasn't worked for 25 years so far.

On my walk (littered with many stops for seats and catching my breath) I spotted these flowers. The same flowers that sprout up every spring and hold on until mid-autumn when they eventually wither and die. 

I haven't always been a fan of flowers but this time they just seemed so beautiful - it was as though last week there was snow on the ground and now these absolutely gorgeous flowers.

How can this be a coincidence?

This beauty.

I understand pollination. But that makes it all the more incredible.

Of course I am well aware that these flowers in question are planted by the council in order to 'pretty up' the park, but flowers, themselves - they are amazing!

Or am I thinking too deeply yet again?
(I used to cry in my teens thinking about technology we had and how other countries didn't have it.)

What do you think?

God's creation?
 Or a random series of events of evolution that lead to beauty?

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Monday, 18 April 2011

Bye Bye Mr Sleepy Poo.

Hello Insomnia.

You're one of my oldest and least favourite of friends.

I want to punch you in the face. Especially when I've had a grand total of 6 hours sleep in the past 48 hours.

That means I've been awake for a total of 42 hours. That is un-natural, surely?

The only people who pull crazy sleep patterns out the hat like this are on-call doctors, nurses, midwives and the like, surely?

People who have some importance in the World and don't just exist to eat bread sticks and live in filthy PJs for their entire weekend.

Umm so that 'three' signage thing isn't some Scottish way of swearing with your hands. I'm illustrating the time I'm awake at. 


And this, to me, is early. As in I don't feel all panicky about being awake at this time.

If I manage to sleep at 3am this means I'm doing 'good' in terms of sleep.

I look dead, don't I? That's because I am.

I fell asleep around the realms of 5am on Sunday, got woken by baby growls at about 8am or so, kept falling asleep on the sofa - which doubles as my bed right now seeing as our bed has 'interior design malfunctioned' and my whacky sleeping patterns disturb B - he likes his sleep and is grumpy without it - until B had to leave.

By 8.30am I was completely and fully responsible for another human being as my husband sailed out the door, on his way to church, without a care in the World. I drew imaginary knives into his back as it disappeared out the door.

Then I defaulted to CBeebies for my childcare - technically this isn't accurate, it's merely an entertainment source for my child which keeps him from squealing, squawking and clawing my face off (a hobby he's taken up lately.) 

Bad, naughty, disgusting parenting. I know.

Well, I don't care.

I just wanted to shut my eyes for five minutes and let this responsibility dissolve. 

What I really wanted was to 'get better' - whatever that means. I want some semblance of a life where I go to bed, wake up feeling like a human being and do 'normal Mum stuff' like going to the park on my own or getting out more than once every month. I would also like to go to church. 

I would like not having to worry about my muscles wasting away to nothing, rotting like an apple core inside of me.

I often worry that if I express how I feel about my illness and what it does to me that it will somehow expose me as this truly awful and horrible person/mother - of which I know I am neither but I know that opinions can flood in and cloud my otherwise balanced view of myself.

So I keep myself to myself about this illness (M.E.) but I'm tired of doing that now.

I know that the only person who truly grasps the reality of this situation is B. I put a show on for everyone else. All I really do for Roman is give him breast milk. I can't even feed him his food because my arm seizes up (this is a new development and scares the heck out of me.) B does a majority of the nappy changes, bath time, clothes changes, food shopping and all major baby care duties. I even have to shout on him if Roman is crying in the mornings because, at the best of times, I struggle to lift Ro Ro out of the cot.

When I change a nappy it's a good day and they don't come around often.

That is so hard to admit that it hurts. I can't believe what a shockingly and appalling horrible wife and mother M.E. has made me become. I've turned into a monster and I hate it. I want my life back. The one where I didn't even know I had this stupid illness. What good has it done me to know about it, anyway?

'There's nothing we can do/there's no cure,' is a constant rhetoric I hear from doctor after doctor.

Well Master Quinn had a chest infection and since I had one back in December (when I mentioned this to B he said 'did you? really?' and it made me smile. I'm sick all the time so everything blurs into the background for us) I really didn't want to inflict this condition onto anyone. Plus, B had a talk today. I felt the right thing to do was send him out to church.

Of course, I woke up, and didn't want him to go but I felt I couldn't back track on what we'd agreed so I went with it. 

I didn't shut my eyes for five minutes, of course, nor did I truly want the responsibility to dissolve, I just wanted to find a guilt-free way of dealing with things.

So I put on Pingu and we had a nice cuddle on the sofa all morning (okay, lies, he crawled all over me and kept climbing down a hundred times, then tried to climb back up again!)

And I felt good about it. For once I was the mother I should be, the mother who can just shut off the voices of judgement and criticism on her abilities and just soak up the moment, enjoy it for what it was.

It was just us three snuggled up in our family blanket (with Roman fighting his feet free) on the sofa and cuddling together;

Me, my son and CBeebies. 

Friday, 15 April 2011

I'll call this set: Thoughtful Little Man Stares out of Window.

We spent the last week of March at my parents in the Scottish Highlands.

I hadn't been there in over a year. Travelling and ME don't mix at all. 

The scenes that you see up there are utterly breath taking. I have been all over the UK and little impresses me until I head up to the North of Scotland.

It truly is stunning.

I love being there with Roman because my parents have carpets. This is an exciting prospect when you come from a home without carpets, when your home has horrible laminate flooring throughout (I hate laminate flooring; it's cold, requires more upkeep, attracts more hair, dirt, dust etc and Roman can't stand up on the floor.) 

I probably sound utterly Bourgeois, but there you have it. 

I slept and ate well.

The normal pressures were gone. 

The slurping noises of B eating or the way he breathes seemed to matter less. 

But nonetheless, the days slipped by too easily and too quickly.

And then we got back on the train home where we were back to our old ways of me not sleeping till 4am, getting 4 hours of sleep (me) and the breathing and eating noises really annoying me.

Wednesday, 13 April 2011

Happy Pre-Easter.


This cake came up on my Blogfeed.

And talking of feed I would love to feed my face with it.

It looks totally delish. 

Chocolate hasn't appealed to me in weeks so when I saw this I really shouldn't have been bothered but it looks like the old chocoholic in me wants to fight to get out.


I love Cheeky Kitchen. Most of the recipes are not vegan and this is a good thing (it's like window shopping when you're broke.) I also have a little loss of will power when it comes to food, although the upside is that I am too sick to prepare, bake or cook anything unhealthy - or well, anything. 

I also love Easter. It's the one celebration I have never, ever had a problem with - maybe something to do with all that chocolate?

The best Easter I had was one year we were at my Gran's. We'd driven through after church like we did every year. Our dog at the time was called Goldie and she went everywhere with us. I can't even imagine having a dog now, they seem like so much hard work on top of the day to day everything else.

So we get to my Gran's and are loaded up on even more chocolate - I think we'd even went by my Granny and Granpa Kirk's, too, so well it was obvious I was going to be OD'ing on sugar. I burst into just about every Easter egg (I had a small frame and was a tiny girl when I was a kid) and had a bit of every one of them. They were sooo good. I never tired of chocolate. I could probably eat it till I burst and then keep on eating it.

And as a matter of fact, I did. We were playing some game we'd invented - which involved a lot of running around for some reason - meanwhile the adults were inside arguing about politics and playing Trivial Pursuit. 

I suddenly had a massive wave of nausea hit me. I didn't feel great at all. I turned back to run inside and threw up all over my Gran's front step. I knew if I admitted to throwing up that I wouldn't be allowed any more chocolate. So I did what any honourable child would do and I blamed it on the dog.

"Muuum! Daaaad!" I shouted from outside. "Goldie's been sick."

Goldie went without food the next morning.

I'm sorry old girl. I hope you're not going to haunt me for that one.

Note to my parents: Yeah, I kind of told a white lie. I'm sorry about that.

And speak of Easter...

Do you fancy a freebie?

Here's what you have to do:

1. Follow this blog (and if you already follow go to 2.)

2. Leave me a comment with your own very favourite Easter memory.

3. Go here to print off a voucher from Thorntons chocolates - you'll receive a voucher for a Treat Egg of your choice.

Last but not least...

4. Take the personalised voucher to a local Thorntons store and exchange it for your yummy Treat Egg. Unwrap and enjoy one on me!

*Oh and I'm sorry guys, girls and dogs: this offer is UK only :(. And well...everyone knows chocolate is poisonous to dogs so I'm sure the dogs won't mind so much.

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

Thinking about: My 14 month old doesn't walk. But he sure can talk.

(Excuse the quality of the photo, it was taken on my camera phone.)

10 months ago things were looking good on the physical development front.

I wasn't worried (apart from the time he wasn't sitting up by himself for ages.) He was 4 months and had mastered rolling over.

Also, I want to make it clear that the above photograph was taken when Ro Ro was 10 weeks old. He was determined he was going to walk. Even then.

I thought to myself; "We're going to have a circus act on our hands by the time he's 2 years old." I pictured him lifting cars and wearing his underpants on top of his spandex trousers. Maybe a gold 'R' emblazoned on the chest of his spandex suit.

Not really.

I just imagined that we'd be a lot further on physically right now. I'm not letting it eat me alive - again - but I am starting to think; "why doesn't my 14 month old walk already?"

He gets himself around just fine. He crawls anywhere and everywhere he can get too. Once he's arrived at his destination he'll pick himself up and shuffle along on his feet. Or he'll fall onto his bum and begin the crawl.

And sometimes he nabs things off tables, crawls away with them and lies on his back to enjoy them, happy as a clam.

I need to learn his lesson in calm, in not freaking out. In just going with how he develops. He will do things when he's good and ready. He made sure of that by being born 8 days after the doctor and midwife predicted he'd arrive. He will never be rushed in life and this is one of those things.

It scares me how independent he is at 14 months. He's pulling off clothes, handing them to us and he will dress himself with a little bit of help. 

He has also been brushing (back combing) his hair for months now and is perfecting the use of the comb through his locks. 

He is so thoughtful and considerate. He tears off pieces of food and offers them to us. He offers us toys and clothes. He's sharing and he's caring. 

He kisses photographs of himself. He says soo many words. Dad, Mum, Hiya, Hey You (B's sounds like bloomin' Rab C Nesbit has moved in with us), Eh-Oh (umm Teletubbies are to blame), Bye Bye, CAT, Amen (at the end of prayers no less), Granny, Granpa, Gog (Dog), Up and 'up above' (he sings 'up above...wurlsoooohii' as in Twinkle Twinkle Little Star) and well if there are any more I am missing I'm sure B will point them out to me!

So I don't give a stuff if he's not walking yet. He'll get there. He's getting around and this obviously suits him. If he was that bothered or taken by walking I'm sure he would be doing it by now.

For now I'm going to take a chill pill and enjoy the chasing after I don't have to do.

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