tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10706287269709214602024-03-14T04:18:42.031+00:00Chasing RomanCarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.comBlogger579125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-92187953062438977182013-09-06T20:03:00.000+01:002013-09-06T20:03:47.598+01:00Nearly Three Weeks New.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mSP5yE7rW24/UiocWJUTFVI/AAAAAAAAEow/Wlg7WAkmlrw/s1600/homeschool+(1+of+1)-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mSP5yE7rW24/UiocWJUTFVI/AAAAAAAAEow/Wlg7WAkmlrw/s640/homeschool+(1+of+1)-26.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tomorrow he'll be three weeks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For a long time I haven't wanted to write anything here; I haven't wanted to share my life with anyone because I wanted to protect the things I was going through in my pregnancy. And now so much has gone on in our lives that I don't have a clue where to begin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These nearly three weeks have been filled with happy and sad tears, lots of reflection, loss, new life, renewed hope and endless kindness.</span></div>
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<br />Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-61292170940173201162013-04-26T15:01:00.002+01:002013-04-26T15:01:27.037+01:00Adding Joy.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ntUosD1Q8w/UWxepUK64NI/AAAAAAAAEj8/M5Jw42LVjW4/s1600/IMG_4493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ntUosD1Q8w/UWxepUK64NI/AAAAAAAAEj8/M5Jw42LVjW4/s640/IMG_4493.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Whenever I have a spare moment I find myself going through baby photos of Roman. Such as the above. You see I'm panicking about having a baby again because I'm worried about all the things I know about. I could write a book about lack of sleep, <i>that </i>pain after childbirth (you hurt in places you didn't know you had), breastfeeding going wrong, then right, then wrong and then finally settling into a great pattern and suddenly ending before you're ready to give it up and your child self-weans.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On top of the anxiety and panic there are the things I've forgotten; the immense love that comes from seemingly nowhere that makes <i>that </i>pain after childbirth totally worth it. And there are the things I know; lack of sleep exists but eventually, piece by piece, you get your sleep back. But then I tell myself; <i>when will I sleep?!</i> Roman doesn't nap, so I can't 'sleep when the baby sleeps' - a common tip new mothers are told over here. Also as I'm housebound right now (more pregnancy complications) I'm worried about being housebound when the baby comes. When Roman was a baby there were stretches of months when I was in bed - I had forgotten what my living room looked like. When I eventually did get out (when my parents visited) my eyes felt like they were being burned by the sun and my skin felt on fire. I'm scared of being stuck indoors with two children, no sleep and in agony (I was in agony for months after Roman was born.) </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So yes, I'm excited and I'm looking forward to this but I'm also absolutely terrified whenever I let myself think about it. One baby was extremely hard but to juggle one baby and one toddler is going to really, really stretch me physically. I'm not scared of 'losing' my identity or anything like that I'm just scared of making it through the day to day, on my own. People can help here or there but I need more - and I feel selfish and guilty for feeling that - and I can't get more. We're going to need to have this. I'm going to need to have this down.</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-33212296736381531102013-03-29T12:58:00.002+00:002013-03-29T13:05:24.513+00:00Confessions of a Toilet Training Parent: Part One.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Roman is three and only a few short weeks ago he was still in nappies during the day <i>and </i>night. I felt like I'd failed him and myself. When he was old enough to sleep a little longer and give me a little more time to think thoughts that didn't revolve around, 'when I will sleep again?!' and 'I can't stand this feeding every 40 minutes thing!', I began to think about when that magic age would be to get him out of nappies. So when he was 7 months, I bought a potty. We caught some pee in it, much to his and my delight, and every night before his bath he'd pee on it if cued. But that's the problem; if cued. Not because I felt he was ready both emotionally and physically. And you know, if you want to try potty training a 7 month old then go for it, but I didn't find it doable or realistic to our schedule or lifestyle at that time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I kept the potty because I knew we'd hit the magic age one day. But when exactly would that magic age come? I wasn't really sure so I'd try every few months to get him interested in using the potty. Sometimes he'd really want to try and show a great interest in it, other times he'd put it on his head and claim it as his hat. Around the 18 month mark he started to show an interest in the toilet again and out came the potty...well instead of going for a pee in his potty he would use his<i> Bumbo</i> seat. My mum then bought him a turtle toilet seat that he loved the look of but freaked out when placed on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After that I gave up and decided we'd really go at potty training after his 2nd birthday. Well he turned 2 and in March I bought him lots and lots of dinosaur pants. He just didn't seem to get the fact that he wasn't supposed to pee in these despite me putting him in them all day, giving him plenty to drink, rewarding him (worst idea ever for a 2 year old), taking him to the toilet and offering up plenty of reminders. I honestly felt like it was never going to happen but then something funny or endearing would happen and it kept me going. One of my best memories of trying to potty train a 2 year old was one Saturday morning, when I was having a lie-in, and Bryan was in charge. I was woken up with a little voice shouting, "Quick, quick, quick, quick!" and little foot steps running to the bathroom to try and make it to the toilet on time. But that one time was a rare occasion and for the majority of the time it was me cleaning up pee off our carpet. In my mind I just knew it wasn't the right timing so by the end of April I gave up pushing the issue and waited for Roman to ask for pants which he never did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Throughout 2012 we made various attempts at potty training, most of which seemed to work at first but then failed miserably. Trust me when I say I was desperate to get Roman out of nappies but I was also not too keen on forcing the potty or toilet onto him. I was also riddled with first time parental guilt for keeping him in nappies. Most of the blogs I read were stories of 2 year olds fully potty trained and walking around dry in public...I honestly began to question if something was physically wrong with Roman. He would seriously not stop peeing and there were times when he'd make successful trips to the potty all morning and then pee on the floor all afternoon. I was frustrated, full of guilt and stuck on what to do and who to turn to. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When my mum was around in August I spent an afternoon quizzing her about it. As expected all four of us were toilet trained either at 2 years or before and after this age. "Are you joking?" I asked, totally defeated. My mum told me that although we were using the toilet there were always accidents. I mean I remember being 4 years old, at school, too scared to ask to use the toilet and being so full to bursting that my bladder would empty - embarrassing, yes, but I was shy and didn't find my voice in school until I was a little older rather than not having bladder control. I honestly felt like crying, giving up and letting my guilt eat me from the inside. <i>This isn't how I expected this to be.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I don't think Roman is ready to use the toilet full time," my mum told me and it was these words, although they'd been said by Bryan many times before, that really took me out of my weird guilt ridden state. Although I didn't want to admit this truth, I knew she was right. I just hadn't allowed myself to see it because I'd been so fixated on that 'magic age' crap and I'd compared myself, and Roman, to other parents and their peeing-in-the-toilet-toddlers. "When he's ready, he'll let you know and there will be no stopping him," my mum said to me, very gently. Huge weight off my shoulders and huge sigh of relief. And sometimes when you get a point of view from the outside looking in it really helps. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can't say my guilt or comparing went away, because it didn't. There were times I just felt ashamed of Roman being 2 years old and still in nappies and there were more times than I care to admit that I compared myself to others. Then something magical happened; whenever there were blog posts about toddlers learning to use the toilet, I didn't read them. Whenever well meaning parents would humble brag about their peeing babies or toddlers I would silently, and gently, tell myself; <i>it's okay, you're not them. And Roman isn't </i>that <i>child. He's your child and he'll do this in his own time, when he's ready and he'll let us know when that time comes.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I stopped giving a crap - excuse the pun ;) - and got on with being a parent to <i>my </i>child. Because, really, that's what matters. Making sure you and your child are happy and doing what is right for you. Things like potty/toilet training will happen when they happen but it shouldn't sap the life out of you or consume your thoughts. I began to relax about everything after speaking to my mum because she was someone I could trust not to say something awful, crappy or disrespectful and she pointed out something that I was too scared to admit. Roman wasn't ready, he really wasn't. I didn't use to believe in 'readiness' for toilet training and to a point I'm not sure where I stand on that issue today but clearly your child needs to be emotionally set up and prepared for moving out of nappies and then match that emotional readiness to physical control and readiness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Roman didn't crawl until he was almost 11 months, didn't pull himself up to stand until the same age, didn't walk until he was 18 months and for all of those things I can tell you this: he is an observer. He likes to watch how things are done and then practice them once or twice until his technique is where he wants it to be. When he began walking he moved like an unsteady baby zombie for a few days until one day he was steady, sure and completely confident. All through these stages I have been paranoid, worried and full of guilt. Constantly believing I was doing something 'wrong' or that something was physically wrong with Roman - which is easy to think when you're physically messed up. The 'problem' that isn't really a problem is that Roman is a person who likes to do things on his own terms and at his own pace without rules or restrictions around that. I like to think I haven't put any barriers or anxieties around his physical growth, even though I've been riddled with worry and guilt I've always tried to not put that on him. The only 'problem' was me and my worrying ways. </span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-44568058734071636702013-03-13T16:08:00.001+00:002013-03-13T16:08:43.024+00:00Some News...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Roman will become a big brother in August of this year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I didn't expect I'd ever have a baby at that time of year. Nor did I expect to be raising two boys together - before I was married I actually had a dream about having a boy and a <i>girl ;).</i> I also never in my wildest dreams imagined I'd have one child, let alone two. I honestly thought Roman would be my only baby, toddler and child. With this in mind I decided to put up my hopes of having another child and it happened - not 'just like that' but it did happen and I am so excited.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've been suffering from a very rare condition called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyperemesis_gravidarum">Hyperemesis</a> which has completely floored me this time around. I'm not sure if I'm going to share too much about it, but I'd like to. I find blogging is a big drain on my energy right now so I can't say it will be any time soon. With that aside; here's to the future of Roman's big brotherhood and to two boys!</span></div>
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<br />Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-86941215724654651082013-03-01T22:23:00.001+00:002013-03-27T14:36:32.499+00:00Sharing Isn't Always Caring.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I spotted this funny e-card on Facebook ages ago and it tickled me pink. Oh OCD if only you were the cliché everyone believed you were ;). Also...I wrote a post about OCD months ago and I don't really want to share it. I then wrote a post about home schooling and I don't want to share that, either. I also have a bunch of photographs and stories to go with them but I don't want to share those, either. I'm just not sure what's okay or not to share on the Internet these days and quite frankly I don't want someone reading this blog, my Facebook or any other sites I use and feeling like they have some juicy gossip on me or those in my family. I feel myself closing up and closing in on myself, becoming more private than I've been in a long time. I just don't want to share a thing about my life; the good, the bad and the private. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm not really sure where this leaves my blog. It's a teeny tiny blog anyway and that's how I like it. If I never write another post again then I'm not sure it would matter or have a huge effect on the world - I don't write to effect changes in the world and it's not my job to be held up as an example of modern day motherhood or how people should live their lives but I enjoy the writing, I enjoy telling stories from my point of view and I used to enjoy sharing, too. These days? Not so much. So how does one own a blog, keep writing, but also remain fenced off in areas they'd like to remain private? I'm trying to work that out. I'm also trying to work out if all these thoughts are due to hormonal changes in my body - big, strange and new changes I haven't gone through before - or if I'm simply growing up and realising that sharing isn't always caring. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">P.S: I don't have OCD...</span>Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-20645460749872692532013-02-26T11:41:00.001+00:002013-02-26T11:41:38.103+00:00Resolution.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This year I made one New Year's Resolution I was sure I could keep: be kind. Think kind thoughts, do kind things, say kind things and look for kindness in others. It's been hard because I'm sarcastic and get by on the cheeky things I say. And shamefacedly I've often forgot about my resolution. My <i>one</i> resolution. I toyed with losing weight (and funnily enough I've lost a fair amount with being ill) or making more effort to look good - or at least get dressed every day...but those things? While they're 'important' in the scheme of my health and my mental health I figured that being kind was of greater importance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't feel good about the world when I spend time (wasted time) thinking unkind things about people. I feel very disconnected to myself, in fact. In high school I was one of these people who would bat away most of the hurtful conversations people would try to have in our little group. "I don't think they're like that!" I would protest with my 'friends' who were talking down other 'friends.' I hated bullying of any kind and ended up in a lot of trouble defending people who were being bullied. I didn't always handle it so brilliantly. One time I saw one of my friends being kicked so I threatened the boy who was kicking her. He laughed in my face and asked what I was going to do about it. "I'm going to beat you up after school!" I declared quite loudly and proudly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After school came and he was waiting for me. Rather than walk past, forget my promise of what I was going to do even though I <i>knew</i> it was wrong, I stood face to face with this boy. This boy that I'd shared a desk with the previous year, this boy that I quite liked (as a friend) and thought was a decent enough person. I threw the first punch which sent him down to the ground. Everyone was cheering me on. I felt sick, I felt like this whole thing was all wrong and I didn't feel like a very nice person in that moment. I don't know what happened next but my friend from the year up came out and suddenly it felt like the whole school was involved in the fight. It snowballed into something I hadn't imagined, all because I'd forgotten to be nice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After the event I got into a lot of trouble. My parents were thoroughly mortified and ashamed of me. I felt so terrible for such a long time, I didn't know how to make it okay with this boy and I didn't know how to take back anything I'd done. But I did learn that being nice is far more important than anything, even if you lose face - whatever that means. I learned that you can be the healthiest, fittest person alive but if you're not a nice person? It doesn't actually matter. You can have supermodel looks but if you're a nasty person then it doesn't matter. You can have well dressed, well mannered children but if you're not a nice parent then none of that matters. If you're not the nice example your children need and deserve then you're doing something wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And everything else will fall into place but being nice is my priority for 2013. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Have you managed to break or make any resolutions?</span>Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-7505722291873848062013-02-16T14:50:00.003+00:002013-02-16T14:56:11.163+00:00One of THOSE Days.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of those days where I want to draw a veil over the whole day and be done with it. One of those days where I think to myself; "What am I doing?! I must be mad to sign up to be a parent. I can't wait until he's 15 and out of the house on a Saturday." One of those days where I have to laugh, incident after incident, because otherwise I will lose the plot. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One of those days where I have to remind myself; this is what I am given time for. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One of those days I will desperately want back when he's 15, out of the house on a Saturday, away with friends and away from my side. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of those days where it didn't take long to fix the problem and it didn't take long for him to avoid a nap and get himself wound up in more cheekiness.</span></div>
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Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-62365937609497173472013-01-30T16:58:00.000+00:002013-01-30T19:04:02.212+00:00It's Been A While...<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's been a while since I blogged. Actually it's <i>nearly </i>been two months. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Since early December I've been suffering with a strange and slightly rare (although not unheard of) health condition that I don't really know much about. I'm waiting it all out, on medication that has proved effective for the most part, and the good news is that there is an end in sight...it's just no one is sure when that will be, only that it </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">will</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> end - with no clarity on </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">when</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> that might be. Once I know more I will probably write more about it but until then I'd rather keep it private other than to say, "I'm sick!" and give this as my reason for the slacking on everything in my life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Until I can get into more detail I'd like to tell you that having kid/s and being sick is <i>hard, hard </i>work - especially if you're at the point of letting them fend for themselves a lot of the time and having family around to plug the gaps of your negligence. I thought that having M.E and a child was hard. Well I knew nothing. This has been one huge learning experience filled with mostly hard times, letting go and accepting help from everyone and everywhere. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But that's life. Whatever it hands you, you deal with. You do your best. You get by if that's all you can do.</span>Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-17794791986555170172012-12-24T22:00:00.000+00:002013-01-30T22:01:32.204+00:00It's My Birthday! WooHoo ;).<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Christmas Eve in 1985 I was brought into the world with a bang. Or more importantly I was being born via C-section. I haven't really been able to enjoy or appreciate my birthday until I had a child to share it with. Truth is that everyone is so busy, stressed and up to their eyeballs in things to do before Christmas day that it seems to have a knock-on effect on my mood, too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As a parent I've learned that being prepared is the key to almost everything we do, hence why most Christmas presents were bought in August and wrapped by November this year. I don't want to be wrapping presents on my birthday or indeed buying anything on my birthday. Last year that happened as well as Bryan being away all day to buy things for other people. Um no. That isn't happening ever again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today Bryan's parents took Roman for a little while and eventually we joined him for dinner. It was a different kind of day; I felt quite sick, the weather was closer to early spring weather and I couldn't quite be bothered to eat much of my birthday cake. Later on once Ro was in bed I had great fun laying all of his presents and stocking out, ready for the morning :).</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-88595252420289746492012-12-23T01:25:00.000+00:002013-01-05T01:26:11.300+00:00He Looks After Me.<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8339364287/" title="He Looks After Me by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="He Looks After Me" height="426" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8501/8339364287_918ebfd01d_b.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've been feeling very 'blah' lately. A few weeks ago my gums started to swell around one of my wisdom teeth, waking me up in the middle of the night with strange flu symptoms. I've still had to get on with life, as you do, and it's been tough on both me and Roman. One morning I put on a Christmas movie, on our iPad in bed and I woke up to Roman accessing my Facebook page - thankfully he doesn't write because that would be an interesting status update, wouldn't it? 'My mum puts me in front of movies so she can sleep in' ;). All he was doing was scrolling through photos, looking for babies to clap eyes on no less (this boy is baby crazy, it's a little bit funny.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">From Friday-Sunday Bryan is off. Today was Sunday, the first day during that time period of Bryan being off that I began to feel like 'me' again. Roman was all over me like a little limpet, not desperate to leave my side and offering me food and drinks whenever he could. I never believed a child could be so sweet and thoughtful, but he really is. In this moment where I felt over whelmed and very connected to our first born I asked Bryan to take a photo. This is a special moment for me and although it doesn't look special this is it. This is life. These are our mummy moments, our cuddle moments, the moments we need to capture and have imprinted somewhere special on our brains so we can conjure up these images when we feel we can't cope or go on with this motherhood thing. Us and our children, together.</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-81160024931491836822012-12-22T00:43:00.000+00:002013-01-03T00:43:41.451+00:00Almost Forgotten.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8340313760/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Sleeping by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="Sleeping" height="426" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8363/8340313760_438c0c22e8_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a busy and tiring day all round. Roman went off to his grandparents and I forced myself to not be in pyjamas and went out with Bryan. It was strange to be without a buggy to get on and off a train and once we got to Stirling it wasn't as busy as I'd imagined it would be :).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When we got home we went out again to get more stocking fillers - Bryan was mostly buying for me - and so there was hardly any time to sit let alone take photos. When we got home I collapsed on to the sofa and suddenly at 11 o'clock I remembered I hadn't snapped a photo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I've forgotten to take a photo!" I announced to Bryan, very sad that I wouldn't get one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Just go in to his room and take one, then."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Knowing he would definitely wake up I didn't want to do this. "What if he wakes up?"<br /><br />"Then he does, you can't not take a photo."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So with Bryan's support I walked into our sons room, camera in hand, and got a few shots without even disturbing him or putting the light on. I've always been a little sad since Roman was a baby that I can't get these sleepy face photos, with him being such a light sleeper, he would always wake up at the slightest of sounds. Lately it's been all change for Roman's sleeping habits; we've been able to enjoy sneaking into his room at night or during a nap and catch our own little snore show :). </span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-82151443886912013102012-12-21T00:29:00.000+00:002013-01-03T00:31:51.730+00:00Daddy Day.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8340309958/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Ducks by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="Ducks" height="426" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8491/8340309958_cb9d3a62fd_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today I struggled to keep my eyes opened and my stomach wouldn't stop churning - I felt averse to food and felt like I couldn't face the Stirling crowds. I really wanted to go along with Bryan and Roman today as 1. it was Bryan's day off and 2. I'd been telling myself all week I'd go and buy a few stocking fillers. However it was clear I was only fit for travelling back and forth from the living room to the toilet so I had to stay at home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On their travels they went to Santa's Grotto, something I wanted to comment on. We don't 'do' Santa in this home; our presents are to each other, I don't use a fat jolly guy for leverage for good behaviour but Roman is crazy about the idea of Santa. I suppose it's like Disney; you watch the films, you believe the magic of it but you know the difference between Disney and reality. And it's 'okay' to visit Disney World. Either way...that's how I approach Santa. I don't indulge the idea but nor do I thwart it away if Roman gets joy from the idea of Santa - albeit a different idea than most children have/grow up with.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He was quite overjoyed with his wooden ducks and then they broke within minutes. Still, he wanted to play with them and kept asking me for glue so he could fix them ;). Also you may notice the pile of 'folded' clothes beside the ducks - all Roman's work.</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-7176081311452356792012-12-20T00:18:00.000+00:002013-01-03T00:18:57.266+00:00Funny Faces.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In contrast to <a href="http://romansthreesixfive.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/changes.html">yesterday's photo</a> I present to you this funny little face :). Because our bathroom light remains to be fixed (we've been busy, I've been too short and too sick to fix it myself) Roman has a bath in the mornings, instead of at night. Right after his bath he begged for his dressing gown, several cereal bars and then to 'cheese' (bringing me my camera so he could pose for me) for me. My funny little boy ;).</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-77340761007138392692012-12-19T23:11:00.000+00:002013-01-01T23:52:50.296+00:00Changes.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today Bryan came home from college saying he was sick and needed to lie down. When Roman woke up from his nap (very late) we descended upon Bryan, not realising he was very ill and it wasn't just a sniffle. Roman wanted to constantly pose with his hands under his chin, propped up on Bryan's knees loudly shouting to me; "LOVE YOU MAMA!" it was very sweet but I think not at all appreciated by Bryan who was having his stomach palpitated by toddler legs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Roman," I said to him gently. "That hurts dad when you do that."<br /><br />"But want to do 'love you mama'," he told me, with the saddest eyes. He quickly broke down in tears and asked me to pick him up to give him cuddles. And that's the change of this year; more affection for me, I'm the one he wants when he hurts himself or when he's upset, more time is spent with this boy in my arms and more time is spent vocally expressing how we feel about one another. Sorry Bryan that you get kicked in the stomach into the bargain.</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-52618969848960726132012-12-18T22:58:00.000+00:002013-01-01T22:58:38.358+00:00His Bed, His Space.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8334591725/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="On his bed by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="On his bed" height="426" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8362/8334591725_6a4eea7884_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I love that Roman has a bed. And I think he feels the same.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After the missionaries and Bryan had left - leaving me and Ro with full bellies and a kitchen sink full of mess ;) - it was time to play with my two year old. He bounced on the bed, pretending to nurse his soft toys and then he settled down on his front like this to read his nursery rhyme book to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"OH! CAT! Oh, hello," he said, following his own plot and not looking once for my approval, very lost in his own world. I love his company, the time we spend together and I can't believe how difficult the first few months of his life were for me - adjusting, early morning bed times for us both, pain, pain, pain and tiredness beyond anything I've ever felt but knowing I had to function as someone's mother in a few hours. I can barely believe we moved into this home when he was seventeen months old; still at the breast, all of his teeth not yet in his mouth and footsteps still to walk. What happened to time? Where the heck did it go? </span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-29631462411589334422012-12-17T22:47:00.000+00:002013-01-01T22:47:46.539+00:00Gloves.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The living room was turned upside down all weekend as we'd been sorting through papers and junk on Saturday (plus cleaning mould, but that's a different story) and today was the first day that Roman could roam free. I think this made him a little bit crazy as he pulled off his socks and told me, very proudly; "THESE MA GLOVES!"</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-18747081329302434972012-12-16T15:40:00.000+00:002013-01-01T15:41:20.817+00:00Off To Church We Go!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today I was extremely ill, more than usual, and feeling incredibly sorry for myself as a result. We'd had a busy Saturday and so it was a slow, painful Sunday today where Bryan and Roman got in from church and slept until 5.30pm. When they woke up I began to suddenly feel better, though very shaky on my legs. We called a taxi and made it to church for the Carol service - I ignored how ill I was feeling which is always a bad move. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Before we left I took this picture of Roman in his Christmas jumper, which he adores and didn't want to take off. He got plenty of compliments!</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-55118833101394445692012-12-15T15:22:00.000+00:002013-01-01T15:23:40.223+00:00Reindeer!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lately I've been feeling beyond exhausted because my sleeping pattern has been off so on a Saturday I don't often make it out the door at a reasonable time - or with these two. This year Roman has been spending less of his Saturday's with Bryan's parents which has been wonderful, in a good way. Yes we spend every day together but it's not usually the family, the three of us, together and it's a great when we can take off somewhere without worrying about getting back for grandparents or to collect Roman </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">on time and as much as I liked getting those precious few hours to myself, or with Bryan, I really like having Roman around. Maybe that makes me 'weird', that I had my child to actually spend time with him, but if it does I'm happy with that :).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So like we did last year today we went to see the reindeer's. We (I) left it quite late so we caught the end of the reindeer display which meant that it wasn't too crowded and Roman got a front seat view of the reindeer. This time last year he enjoyed it but this year he was definitely more aware of the reindeer :). </span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-18899023737980264782012-12-14T23:36:00.000+00:002012-12-29T23:36:26.987+00:00Life. Long Hair. Crisps For Dinner.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8294798213/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Kisses by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="Kisses" height="426" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8356/8294798213_c9a097621b_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At the start of this year I was determined to be a healthier person and I think I've come close to getting there when I think of the opposition this year has also thrown at me. I've battled with countless inner wars about the way I look, the way I speak, things I do (or do not do) and just generally fitting into too many moulds that made me unhappy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So what does 'healthier' mean, exactly? Does it mean allowing your child to eat prawn cocktail crisps as part of a meal? Um well sometimes it happens. I think healthier means 'letting go.' Letting go of ideas of what perfect means and letting go of bad thoughts, habits and patterns of thinking. This includes being negative about my body around my child. I'm selective about the kind of language I use around him. He's a child, he doesn't see 'ugly', he doesn't see 'tired', he doesn't see 'fat thighs, bum, hips...' and so on. He only sees what we teach him to see right now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are particular sore points of my body I'm sensitive on but since having my child I've lost (and am losing) my hang ups. Why? Because his future is more important than my present choices - if I think one part of me is bigger than it should be, why wouldn't I do something about it? Yes I'm still sensitive to remarks and comments that revolve around my body, any woman's body, because the way the world is set up to view women's bodies is ridiculous and I don't want a part in being a negative voice to back all of this nonsense up...but I'm less hung up on it. The comments don't hurt so much because I see they are mostly untrue, unfounded, unwelcome and quite frankly; so what? If I'm happy with the progress I've made </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and I'm making, that's all that matters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With all of this in mind I asked Bryan to take our photo - a photo to cherish and remember, a photo that will be printed and put into a photo book of memories and no doubt viewed by a lot of people. A photo that I hope, in time, will be one I look fondly back on and treasure for the time we spent together, for the love we felt for each other and for the two people in the photo who don't judge each one another on how they look. A photo, the first of many I hope, that I didn't judge myself on.</span></div>
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Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-91132318306347867482012-12-13T23:19:00.000+00:002012-12-29T23:19:44.703+00:00Biting.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8295852738/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Biting by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="Biting" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8363/8295852738_c0777ff368_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Me to Roman: "Don't bite yourself, it makes me very upset."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Roman to me: "I'm a dino-sawr (dinosaur)!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There is one thing this boy loves and that's seeing his moving form stare back at him through our iPad (we're not rich kids, Bryan won it in a competition.) He transforms into this wild thing; biting himself, making up his own random words and laughing his head off. He's also taken to biting himself and laughing his head off - it's a strange one that I try to discourage but what can you do when the toddler is convinced he has prehistoric powers?</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-88671425099730302652012-12-12T00:55:00.000+00:002012-12-29T23:08:31.247+00:00New Table.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8294802179/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="New Table by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="New Table" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8080/8294802179_e901c9cb03_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For a while now I've been desperate to get this little boy a table of his own; to eat, to play, to draw, create and generally have for all kinds of purposes. However lack of having a car and energy have got in the way of that - yes ordering from Ikea, even with delivery, is a decent price but I just never found I could be bothered to getting round to it. Then there was this marvellous little table that was up for grabs from a good friend of mine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As soon as we put it down in the living room Roman was all over it. With this new bed and now the table all in the same week I can't help but think this was the year that Roman moved away from all things baby and moved into true boyhood.</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-10866112947761159782012-12-11T17:44:00.000+00:002012-12-22T00:40:17.519+00:00A Bed.<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8272716705/" title="puppet (1 of 1)-95 by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="puppet (1 of 1)-95" height="426" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8489/8272716705_76698cba70_b.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When it came to getting his bed I honestly believed he'd be 'okay' for one at about 18 months but every time I would pray about it I felt like it wasn't a good time, or that we needed to get through other phases first before introducing such a huge change. When he turned 2 I kept thinking 'we should get him a bed' but again the cot stayed. He was happy to stay in the cot, we were happy to have him in it. A few months ago me and Bryan were talking about Christmas and we decided that if we were getting any money at Christmas that we'd save it up and buy Roman a bed - a really nice, sturdy bed with a 'good' mattress.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well a few weeks later Bryan got a call from a friend asking if he'd like to buy a hardly used bed from him at a very decent price. When the bed arrived I was surprised with how new it really looked and how sturdy it was. We just had to buy a mattress. When I visited my sister I told them all about Roman's new bed and my aunt offered to buy the mattress for Roman's Christmas. Brilliant. I was very happy she bought him a really great mattress that arrived today - I set it up myself and Roman bounced all over his new bed. He's pleased with it and so are we. And I'm also beyond glad we waited until now to do this because there is no strangeness around this for him; he was outgrowing the cot and couldn't properly stretch out so I think he's happy to finally have his own comfortable sleeping spot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-57469992010943203032012-12-10T00:54:00.000+00:002012-12-29T23:12:14.131+00:00He Can Cook.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8295842338/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Chef Ro by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="Chef Ro" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8220/8295842338_659c8a0310_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Roman loves the TV show 'I Can Cook' because it speaks to his inner chef/cook. Every time it comes on he runs to his toy kitchen and serves me up some delicious treat that I must pretend to greedily devour before his eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On top of this he loves to slot in his real food into the toy oven, waiting a few seconds for it to 'cook.' "PING," he'll say then run over to his oven. "Oh, it's cooked!" </span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-71337174431029819152012-12-09T17:04:00.000+00:002012-12-21T17:05:01.300+00:00Brave.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8273787014/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="puppet (1 of 1)-89 by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="puppet (1 of 1)-89" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8072/8273787014_835c7a0769_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today: home from church, straight into bed, nap until 5.30pm (wow!) and then up for dinner and to watch<i> Brave </i>for the first time. Three cheers of approval on that film and for the first time ever Roman sat and watched a whole film from start to finish.</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070628726970921460.post-13486375095616509142012-12-08T23:47:00.000+00:002012-12-21T23:50:07.301+00:00KettaBell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32734780@N00/8273782290/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="puppet (1 of 1)-94 by Caz0rz, on Flickr"><img alt="puppet (1 of 1)-94" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8202/8273782290_30c6d4c2b6_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Roman and his 'kettabell' (kettlebell.) I had spent the day in bed, sick as usual, when I handed over my camera to Bryan and asked him to get a picture of Roman and this is the result of that ;).</span></div>
Carahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179779675327042949noreply@blogger.com0