Saturday, 20 August 2011

Flash...AHHHHH! King of the impossible.


I have tried this technique with various coloured glass bottles (yes, seriously.) But Photojojo (my personal equvillent to a kid in a sweet shop) have created these flash and lens colour filters. Now, why would you want to create such an effect on photos?

Because you can create cool snaps like these:

And with me being a complete amateur with photography, products like these excite me - photography is my hobby and these are definitely hobby products.

At $15 I can rest easy with that but then there are the shipping costs :(. And if you know me, you know how I feel about shipping costs. I don't mind when the costs justify the product but I think paying nearly the same price as the product costs in shipping is just dumb. Also I personally believe that Photojojo should invest in some bulk buy discounts on shipping. Just sayin'.

Because I would go broke on that site. And it could quite easily be done. But I have to reconcile with myself; I'm happy with my coloured bottles. I'm happy with my piece of junk camera and tiny lens. I'm happy that I don't have a shopping addiction that takes over my life and makes me homeless. I'm happy I can be smart about my purchases.

Until Photojojo launch in the UK, of course. Until then I'm safe. 

P.S This was not a sponsored post. 

I'm still working on that World domination thing and could really use a vote - so if you want me for the Leader of the Free World then click below :)!

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Wednesday, 17 August 2011

I Love Hatley Clothes.

Remember when I posted up about Scandinavian prints and clothes last year, here? Well now I'm back with another new-found children's designer that is very similar to it's Danish cousins Katvig and Molo. It's Hatley, a Canadian company that make 100% cotton clothes for Mama's, Dada's and baby, too :).

And because they say it better, here's a little on their story; 

Alice, inspired by the countryside around her, had just finished a series of paintings depicting farmyard animals. Needing a venue to show her work, Alice opened a gallery above her gift shop the Little Blue House.

 John, Alice’s husband, watched the paintings sell and created a line of aprons based on Alice’s artwork. John was right, the aprons sold and kept on selling. They quickly turned this cottage business into the company Hatley, supplying retailers with the best cow and pig aprons the world had ever seen. Cows and pigs gave birth to moose and bears, aprons led to gifts and clothing.

How awesome. They sound like the type of people I want to be friends with! 

Okay, so back to my clothes-obsession with this new brand. I adore their range! Kids can be kids again :) (I feel very uncomfortable when people dress their children like 18 year olds going out to clubs.)

Anyway...Hatley clothes have a new range out for autumn/winter! (sidenote: it's called  fall/winter where Hatley clothes come from)

Here's my little Wish List:

Wellies are essential wear in a country like Scotland. It rains a lot.

The bear necessities; I really like bears.

This looks like Mummy and Daddy K's (my parents) dog, Shadow. And I can totally see her doing something like this, only without the paw holding the glass.

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All images nabbed from here. If you want to drool over gorgeous kids clothes go here, here and here

Monday, 15 August 2011

Can't Fathers be home-makers, too?


Today something really annoyed me. I saw a banner ad for a site that had the caption along the lines of; "Preparing our daughters to be home-makers." This caption has really ticked me off.

Why are our daughters being prepared for this role? What about our sons? Can't they be nurturing, caring, loving and understanding home-makers, too? It makes the suggestion that only females can and should be home-makers. And while I'm willing to play fair and bet the site admin didn't mean any harm, I think inadvertently sites like this cause it anyway. 

I have a son, so I take this personally. I am rearing a home-maker. He will learn how to use a washing machine, how to cook a number of recipes, how to sew a button onto a shirt, how to mend a pair of socks and he will be expected to take an active role in duties around the house.

After all, one day, he will be a father. And he will have a home. If that's what he chooses, of course. And if or when that day comes, I want him to make his house a home. I want him to be a home-maker. And to be prepared to be the one who works in the home, rather than outside the home.

And the person preparing him for most of his early learning? His own father. Who cooks, changes nappies, feeds our son, does the shopping and vacuuming around here. Our own home-maker.

So why just prepare our daughters to be home-makers? Our sons need it, too. And none of this 'Modern Man' rubbish, either. It's just normal and natural because being a father is more than about clocking in and out of an office building, coming home, putting your feet up and expecting someone else to do things for you at home.

Being a home-maker is about making a home; where children laugh, sing, learn and play. Where the father has to have the maturity to handle being the head of the household - how can that be possible if he has never been shown what goes into making a house a home?

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Sunday, 14 August 2011



What was your childhood like?

Is it something you love to talk about or something you find hard to discuss?

For myself I had a majority of 80% happy memories and 20% of it where it was hard and a bit miserable. 20% might sound like a lot, but I can assure you that if the numbers were around the other way and 80% of it was hard and miserable that it would paint a very different picture in your mind's eye.

I had some hard trials as a child. I can't phrase it any better than that, because that is exactly how I would want to frame it when presenting my childhood story to you. 

These trials really hardened me towards trusting people; for the most part I found myself very reluctant to trust anyone. I would make new friends but I never seemed to keep friends as I felt their loyalty to me was never where I wanted it to be - I had friends, some I even have to this day, but I never felt I gave myself to anyone; in fact the first person I feel I truly 'gave myself' to is my husband, in every way. 

In the past I also never opened up, shared or explained myself too well; I kept my feelings and emotions in check all the time, lest something would slip out that I didn't want slipping out.

For years this system made sense. And one day, when I was about 17, I'd had enough. Enough pretending, lacking trust, hating several people and being in this state of constant unforgiving. I had to move on. 

Up until then my hatred and pain fuelled me through the day. I could smile, be happy, laugh and crack jokes like the rest of them but when I was on my own there were the over whelming feelings of hating everything and feeling so much pain. Enough was enough.

Bad things do happen to good people. I was a very decent, caring, loving and expressive child and I couldn't let that be taken from me, too. I had to fight back to reclaim myself and my life. I'm fortunate that I could find the strength to do that - and I am so grateful for Jesus Christ's sacrifice for us, without His sacrifice I would have struggled. I knew people had gone through pain like I had but the only other person who had truly felt it and experienced it like me was Jesus.

Just because God is a loving God doesn't mean that he can stop people being stupid; starting wars, killing and abusing children or people killing people. That is entirely a person's choosing. And they must deal with the consequences. 

God is a loving God because he doesn't intervene on someone else's choice.

However it's our decision to decide how we're going to react and what we do with how others treat us that matters. How we respond to pain is our choice. We can choose fight or flight. Right or wrong. Good or bad.

I'm glad I selected the choice that was good for me. I am glad that I can sit here and say that 80% of my childhood was awesome, I think that is a tremendous and awesome number that my parents and myself should be happy about. 

Thank you to everyone else. Thank you for raising me in some way, for being my friend, for tuning into my needs and putting them ahead of your own. Thank you for reading my stories and sharing this life with me. 

It means everything.

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Saturday, 13 August 2011



We have moved. We've been here for three weeks on Monday and yet it feels like home already. The old flat cleaning seemed unending; but that's another story I'll probably never get around telling. Suffice to say it's done and that's all that matters.

When we got here, it was empty. Waiting around with a toddler in an empty, open space is their idea of heaven. I embraced the situation and let him explore. When our mattress arrived we played a game of peekaboo with Roman at one end and me at another; he was having a great time. I let him wreak havoc in the afternoon when I found myself alone; he unzipped suitcases, unpacked and proceeded to empty disposable (clean) nappies all over the place. I even let him play with my set of keys.

Roman took a few nights to get used to his new bedroom, but after some time he settled down nicely.

We've been sick in the new place already. All three of us. All at once. 

Roman started walking here. And he hasn't stopped. He took to his feet on the Monday we moved in and by the next Monday was completely walking, on his own, Mr. Independent. It was only at the start of July he stood up completely unaided and by the 1st August, he's walking. Confidence is his middle name (although, really, he has his Granpa's first names as his middle names.)

I love my new home. I love having a garden. A kitchen that can fit more than one person at a time. I love having room to breathe, think, people watch. And I love having more space.

I love the potential that comes with a place when you move in. You imagine Christmases and birthdays spent there. You just know special - and possibly more mundane, less special - memories will be made there.

Our last place we lived in was special, I suppose, and I thought I would feel more emotional than I did about leaving it all behind. After all it was the home in which we brought our newborn too and where he had his first birthday. But when I walked away last Thursday I felt nothing but relief; that we weren't going back there and that someone else can realise it's potential. 

We can take those memories with us and bring them here. To our home, where it truly feels like home.

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Saturday, 6 August 2011

Ice cream for breakfast, anyone?


We had ice cream for breakfast today. I suppose that's another gong hit on Parents of the Year, 2011.

But seriously, you buy an ice cream maker, don't eat for about a week and expect us not to have it for breakfast? Let's be serious. came out more like a milkshake from McDonald's (not had one of those in about 10 years.)

And besides, I can't imagine a much more healthier option than frozen chocolate soya milk. 

We're all moved into our new place. Except we need to unpack our old life into this new one, do about three months worth of dirty laundry and I need to invent a machine that will keep a house eternally clean, do some work for me and cook gourmet vegan meals.

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