Growing and growing. And growing.

Parenting: going by in a blur. 

I don't know where 18, nearly 19, months have gone. I would have 10 children if they could all be like this. But that's not reality. The reality is that everything is a gamble and that having babies is a gamble. 


For me that gamble is knowing I could make myself more sick, perhaps totally crippled and totally confined to bed/my house forever more. That's a daunting and scary thought. As it stands I will never be that mother who pushes her child in a swing at the park. Meanwhile life moves on for others and Roman gets bigger - and smarter - by the minute.


He is figuring out this World around him without my help, aided completely by his curiosity and helped by my inability to move fast and keep up with every leap, bound and stride he takes.

The mimicking has reached a new height. He copes e v e r y t h i n g I do. He wants to be in my business constantly. And has no regard for doing it to my standards - he just wants to learn, he just wants to be part of all the excitement and be wherever there is something going on.

When my Mum told me that I shouldn't be so quick to have him walking, she was spot on. But of course, as children do, I didn't take it seriously. I was in a flap about him not walking so much that I got over excited when he did start walking...and now...well now I find myself trying to claw back the babyhood a little. Stay a little bit tiny, for now, stay in my arms and on my lap. But he is too quick, too fast and already has me beat on physical strength. 

On top of this, he is asserting his independence on a daily basis by running behind the couch, his new trick of opening the door, brushing his hair and teeth, dressing and undressing himself and sitting on the toilet seat - where did my baby go? And when did the big boy move in?

He doesn't particularly like TV - and, well, we don't own a TV, but he does get to watch some Arthur or Mr Bloom when I'm struggling during the day -, but worships his book collection. He loves to take baths, loves his ducks in the bath and is growing tired of water being dumped on his head and falling into his eyes.

We never did follow Baby Lead Weaning (smack on the wrist because we started him on food at 4 months when I felt under pressure for him to put on weight and didn't want to move him onto formula) so on Sunday I handed him the spoon and let him get to work on a yoghurt that he made short work of...

I wasn't going to mention this at all but I am getting a new camera. And I am excited. 

I had a plan which involved not mentioning it to anyone and dazzling everyone with the amazing photo's I'm going to take...but the truth is simple and it's this; no matter how great my camera, my lenses, lighting and any other equipment - I need to stay true to that original fire in my belly feeling. I need to keep my passion going and not be trampled down by all these 'rules' that photographers seem to follow. After all a majority of my 365 photos were taken on a mobile phone and I didn't let it stop me back then. 

I'm Still Learning.

I love the messiness of this photo. His face, my face. The movement of the photo; aka all over the place.

I'm still learning so much about everything. Every day.

And I'm glad.

It shows I've got a reason to wonder why, to ask internal questions and to ponder why I'm not just like everyone else.

I've never had a true best friend outside my family. 

Don't hate yourself because people think you're pretty; enjoy being pretty and look beyond the superficial front everyone else see's. 

The one thing I thought I'd hate and be bored of - having a family and being married - is the one thing I love more than anything.

Never have I been more happy than I have right now. But I'm struggling so much, every day - in so many petty, pampered, Western ways. I struggle.

With who I am - and who the hell am I anyway?

A Mormon Girl. A Mother. A Wife. A Woman. A Feminist. A Person. An Equal Person.

A Writer. A Lover Of Photography. A Perfectionist. 

The person whose consistently working on getting healthier - a work in progress and an uphill struggle at once.

The person who sits at home on a Sunday morning, thinking; "When will it be my turn?"

My turn to be like everyone else.

To be driven crazy with Roman on my lap babbling and fussing in equal measure the whole way through three hours worth of church. To be partaking sacrament. To hear the sweet singing of; "I love to see the temple, I'm going there someday." 

I just know there aren't many people who can relate to any of this "stuff."

I'm constantly prodded for answers (like I have them) about "why I don't go to church?"

After all I'm 25. Not 95. Surely I must be the most healthiest specimen you've ever seen?

Truth is I barely leave my flat. The best I can hope for is the view from my living room or a quick stroll to the park - which kills me.

I don't really ask for any sympathy, empathy or understanding - just let the World stop with the questions and assumptions.

I had a look at some photographs tonight and they made me feel really empty. I've missed out on so, so much. I've missed out on best friends, on making new friends and having opportunities to spend time with people, to socialise.

When I was in London I made some really great friends. But that's over now. And it's hard trying to forget what friendship feels like, what friends used to mean to me.

I'm happy because I have my family but sometimes I'm just a little sad knowing that I'll never get better - that things are downhill from here health-wise. 


Read more about my illness: here.