Kiss.

My comment to Bryan on this photo: "It's nice, but I can't edit the brightness in it so I don't think I'll share it." He then encouraged me to share as is and I looked at him like he didn't know me at all - you know the perfectionist crazy person that I am and then I thought to myself; shut up, listen to your husband and share it. 

I'm glad I'm sharing it. It's one of the nicest moments I've witnessed in my life. Roman is at this great (but sometimes terrible) age where he has these moments of pure love for us both. Kisses, cuddles and sweet muffled 'I wuv ooo's' are shared from time to time, sometimes randomly and always well received. And so I'd like to document these moments, these times where it seems the world is on pause and he reaches in for a kiss or a cuddle. I'd also like to share it for Roman's sake, for the times in the future where he feels unloved or unwanted. You are very much loved, very much wanted and very much thought about. If you ever doubt the love your dad has for you; it's right here for you to see in this moment and this photograph. Don't forget it.

Stumped.

140/366

On our family walk this evening I discovered this lovely tree stump. I've always had a fascination for these things; I grew up near a huge country park that housed the biggest tree stump I've ever seen. It was so big infact that us four children could sit on it! I used to love tracing the rings on 'my' tree stump and counting them with my dad. He taught me that you could count a tree's age based on the number of rings on the stump* - I don't know if that's true but it certainly seems remarkable if it is true.

Today when I came across this stump I wasn't sure that Roman would even care about it - to him it's surely just a lump of wood, right? Well I think he was quite taken with it. He kept running up to it and saying 'Tweeeee (tree)! My tweee!' I should have guessed he'd be fascinated by this 'twee' as he has quite the thing for trees right now.

*Blessed with the aid of the internet I have discovered that yep, you can find out a tree's 'age' by its ring stumps! Yay!

I've Pulled.

The strange world of shoulder anatomy.

Today I woke up with the worst pain in my shoulder. Perhaps, ever. I had plans of getting my butt in gear, going to Stirling and just generally killing myself at the shopping centre (hate those places when they're packed.) Well, my plans were foiled when I woke up with a pulled muscle (seriously hoping that's all it is.)


So instead I spent the day eating an obscene amount of food - honestly. Probably the most food I've ate in one day in a long time, I just couldn't stop opening my mouth and shoving food in. I think I was working on the theory that food usually makes me feel better, it may even give me a rush of endorphin's and help with the natural pain relief. I also intentionally put pressure on my shoulder for a period of time by lying on my back and then sitting forward - to relieve pain. Don't ask me how that works, it just does.


I was really annoyed this morning. Annoyed because I kept thinking to myself, "as if I don't deal with enough pain and knocks to my health, this is just what I needed." I said a silent prayer to myself as I was crippled by the pain and then my shoulder eased a bit - I could barely breathe in and out before this point the pain was so overwhelming. I did feel bad about saying a prayer because I'd fallen asleep while in the middle of my prayer on the Friday night/morning and I had a bit of a cheek asking for help when I'd left God high and dry mid-sentence the night before. 


I was also in so much pain that I had to go back and repeat sentences I'd already said, just to make sure I'd said them. Because in my cloud of pain - oh but it was 'just' a pulled muscle, wasn't it, Bryan? - I was confused and a little bit sick. Thinking about that now I should have been worried, but I was so confused about waking up, not being able to move or take a proper breath that I didn't think of muscle tissue infections or something more sinister. Now I'm just convinced my body freaked out, went into a bit of a panic that I couldn't move, and I developed anxiety over it. I'm positive it's a pulled muscle because when I run the shower head over it? I'm virtually pain free. 


Anyway, I hope I don't get judged on my vain repetitions and God just see's my praying OCD for what it is. And I also hope that Bryan doesn't pull his neck out of place again - despite me walking out of the bedroom, in a big cream puff, and then spitting out to him; "I can't wait until you pull your neck again! Then I can say to you 'oh it's just a pulled muscle.' " 


On top of this I decided it would be smart to take a week off from blogging - not just because of the pulled muscle but because of a combination of many things; one being that I want to focus my energies and efforts into motherhood. I read an important blog post (I can't be bothered to hunt around for the link) about how children don't need fancy smancy crafts as seen on Pinterest, that they don't need 10 different sensory boxes nor does my house need to look like something out of Apartment Therapy in order to state the point that my child needs me. Not a clean house with immaculate floors, a swept kitchen, up to date washing, shiny sparkling dishes in the cupboards and the full works. I also don't need to be blogging when I could be spending time with Roman - although usually I do wait until he's in bed unless I get a few spare moments in the morning to quickly update things.


What my child needs is me. Especially at this age - this age I won't be able to get back again or repair any damage I might do intentionally. My wee boy is a great wee soul, he really is. He's so content about 95% of the time, sleeps through the night (this doesn't equate to the 'great wee soul' comment, it's just a nice bonus I enjoy), always receives praise on his cheerfulness and is generally just full of life. I'm blessed with Roman as my son because goodness knows I was a very, very determined little girl; full of cheeky comebacks, antics and driving people crazy all the time with my cheeky behaviour. 


But this little boy, this content little smiler, he needs me. This blog does not need me, I give it too much of my time and I need a break. I need to sort a few things out with our landlord, I need to sort out the walls in my home (covered in mould!), I need to sort out my eternally messy room and I need time to just belong to me and Roman in the afternoons. I need my son and he needs me - the more time we spend together, the more calm he becomes. His behaviour becomes seriously altered when he is ignored or, shock horror, is left to watch TV for an afternoon. He has started calling out for me in the mornings - when all I've ever known is a daddy's boy. 


So my goal is to work in the mornings meanwhile Bryan cares for Roman and then the afternoon belongs to me and my toddler - and Bryan can work in the afternoon while me and Ro stroll in nature and the shops ;). For that afternoon the TV will be off and if it's on I will talk to him about all the small details of the show and do sign language with him - which he loves. And for that whole afternoon I will not go anywhere near the internet or my laptop. It will be shut off as soon as all my work is complete and I will put an out-of-office reply on emails. 


Afternoons will be made of mess, fun, frolics, connecting with this beautiful country we have the privilege of living in and tapping into things that catch Roman's (and my) interest. 


We've been doing this for a good while now, but lately I feel myself slacking off so that's my plan. I need to be strict because lately my weeks have felt like they drag and as though nothing ever gets completed - mainly house work. 


So here's to the week and that we all enjoy what's ahead of us - and that we remember our children need us and don't care about how successful we are in a career or how wonderful our cupcakes are. They'll remember how we made them feel and the time we spent with them - not the time we spent on Pinterest fooling ourselves we'd make those kick-ass crafts with our kids. Although I do remember the kick-ass crafts me and my mum used to make together.


We were an unstoppable force.

Favourite.

87/366

With their favourite clothes on, doing their favourite thing (watching TV) and with some of their favourite people.

And my favourite? Sitting in our sunny living room, taking pictures that my soul delights in and makes my heart dance. I love them both so much like this and always.

Saturday Mornings in Bed.

35/366

All three of us in one king sized bed on a Saturday morning can get pretty cramped. So me and Roman stay at the top and B stays at the bottom. Roman feasts on mouthfuls of our breakfasts, eating more of it than we do, and Bryan is the appointed DJ, finding classic songs from our childhoods to share with Roman's childhood. 

I know these moments are something to set in stone, they don't last for long and I am once again grateful I can do that with this Project.

Twas the weekend before Christmas...

Oh what a weekend we had! For a start, I've been outside of my house two days in a row. For anyone that knows me they know this is rare - I'm lucky if I make it out two days in a month. Mums who make it to playgroups, play dates and other such activities please know I envy you.


But onto the important stuff: the weekend filled with amazing-ness.  Pictures to prove it:

A little bit of Christmas - reindeer in Scotland. Reindeer in my town!

{1} carrots - all gone by the time we got there.

{2} reindeer butt.

{3} more cute reindeer butt. yes, really.

{4} a little boy says hello to the 'baa!'

{5} a little boy is a little overwhelmed by it all.

I was so (so, so, so!) excited when I read on Facebook that these reindeer would be arriving to pull Santa's sleigh through our town centre. Although we don't 'do' Santa in our home (please don't lecture me, this is a decision we discussed three years ago - in other words, we're set in our ways and won't back down on this one. I respect your choice to 'do' Santa, so please respect mine) I was very excited to see the reindeer - as well as to show them to Roman as he is a big animal lover and B was a tad excited, too! 

Well they were so cute. And so placid. A big crowd followed them on their march through the town - including myself, just as excited as those little kids, shouting back at B to hurry up so we could get some pictures up close. The best part is that these reindeer are Britain's only herd of reindeer - and we got to see them! Also, they are free ranging around the Cairngorm mountains right here in sunny (or not) Scotland. Read more about these beauties here.

When we got home I wanted to pass out and take a (rare) nap. But my doctor has said I shouldn't take naps as it means I don't sleep at night so I kept my eyes open and got on with the rest of the day which involved B going off to drop Roman off at his parents and us being at home with a very un-Christmas Rockfm playing in the background and me, getting aggravated, with the foil wrapping paper I stupidly bought thinking it 'looked nice.' 

Yes, that foil-y stuff looks good. That's how they hook you in. But it's a nightmare to cut through; it rips, it even ladders (ladies, or gents, like your tights do) and well I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of opening up a present wrapped in it. Still. The point is: don't buy foil wrapping paper unless you're a glutton for punishment. A serious masochist might like it. I am not a masochist. 

Once I did all my wrapping I patted myself on the back and got started on Roman's presents. More specifically, his stocking. A stocking full of Zing. Of the Zilla variety.

Take 4 ZingZillas...

choose a favourite to stick out the top...

And stuff them into a stocking. Tada!

I fear for these little guys and girls, I really do, because lately Roman has taken to biting into his soft toys for teething comfort:

Oh boy.

Follow: @MamaChaser 
Email: carakirk@hotmail.com

Childhood.

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.