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.

Mothering.

136/366

This is the subject that I could write and write about forever.

Mothering. Being a mother.

It's about many things for me; a messy kitchen (not through choice), struggling and struggling to say 'help', sometimes feeling isolated in my little community of 3, a day stretching ahead and wondering at the end of it 'where did all that time go?' and mostly trying to fit everything into those days. 

Life before Roman; I think about it often but not often fondly. My life before him wasn't horrible, it was filled with purpose and with promise - a promise of all the things in front of me. I'm 26 and still so young with that age. Life was also easier in a sense that I didn't have to think ahead or worry that I'd spend 9 hours of a journey entertaining one person. In some aspects being a mother is far easier, but also far harder, than I ever dreamed it would be.

He is my life now but he doesn't consume my life - if that makes sense. We haven't spent a night apart but nor do I feel anxiety or pressure to make that happen. When it happens, it will happen just like everything else. Since the day he was born I've been sure of a few things; he has his own set of rules, his own personality and that he was and is loved by many. 

Love grows as your children grow, that's what I know. Even if they are two and a bit years old, squirming on your lap shouting 'CAARRRR!' while you're trying to document motherhood through photography with them. 

Another thing I know? Roman really likes his ride-on car toy ;).

* my hair is wet in this photo, not greasy. 

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.

Return of the Blog (And the 366 Project.)

Last week I made an executive decision to take a break. I also wrote a long, rambling and emotional post about childhood illnesses, my paranoia's and list as long as my arm neurosis's. I'm not going to share that, not today, and instead I'm going to tell you I'm back from my break. I'm also going to share why I took the break and I really hope (and know) it will be met with understanding.


I wanted to start off by saying, 'Oh I'm so busy!' (aren't we all?) and while that is very true - and also drains me of time and energy I don't have to spend on blogging - I felt it was an excuse and masking my real reasons for not blogging. Yes I don't want to spend time writing out posts people never read or 'working' on the blog fruitlessly - trying to make 'friends' in the blog world, connect with other bloggers (and UK bloggers are a funny bunch. Every single one I've contacted never gets back to me! Especially Scottish bloggers!)


My problem is simple: I struggle with people. Emotions are tricky for me and over the years words have become tricky for me. Don't get me wrong I can very easily put my point across, I can articulate what it is I want from people...I just struggle to reach out and actually say that part. If it's for my son I have no problem, of course, but for myself I really struggle.


Currently I find myself at a very strange cross roads in my life when it comes to friends. I don't have friends I see regularly and quite honestly I don't believe I have any friends, truth be told. I don't have a friend I can call up for advice, I don't have a friend to go and see movies with and I don't have a friend who is there for me 'just because.' A handful of people do nice things for me, sure, but all of the above things to me are what a friend is. 


Outside of my family I couldn't write a list of 'friends' that I have because I would struggle to name names. I would also be embarrassed to consider someone a close friend and not be considered the same in return.


In school I had a hard time feeling connected to anyone there. I just didn't feel like I had any true friends at all and even now the 'true friends' I did have, I don't have any contact with and barely speak too - and even if I did I would feel as though they didn't really 'get me.' In short, the cliche of growing apart has manifested over the years with my many friendships I had as a child or teenager.


In London I had a great bunch of friends. People who were my true adult friends. But that's the problem, they live in London. When I moved back to Scotland, although we semi kept in touch, I did lose those friends. I know that's part of the deal and part of life, I accept it, but I did find it hard to gel or connect to people here when I moved to an area I'd known previously. 


It was terrifying for me socially because there were a lot of new faces, too. At first it didn't really bother me because I still had some of that sass inside me. Then we moved yet again. This time to another ward. I held a calling for a while but because I was so ill when pregnant - and I'm still working that sickness off and getting back to an even keel these days! - I didn't have time to form friendships or get to know anyone. I felt like all those months cooped up have damaged me socially, that I don't know how to just 'be' with people. 


It was literally me and Bryan. If I went out, it was with him. I didn't have any friends I could call up who'd zoom round to see me (something I got too accustomed with, I'm sure.) I was also going through a hard time with some family members, a settling period and adjustment time for them to get used to Bryan - all is forgiven and forgotten, but I want to put that out there. All in all it was a very lonely time for me. A lot of the time I went over our monthly phone bill - sometimes doubling it - just so I had someone else to talk too. We didn't have a phone line, had no internet (and eventually I had to stop going to the library to use it) and no TV. 


I got very anxious any time people would want to come round to see us and eventually over time got less and less anxious as the missionaries spent time with us. In fact I remember the first time they came round. I was so eager to make a good impression, just so they'd come back, that I don't think I spoke for the whole night. Ha! 


I remember when Roman was born. We were overloaded with people, with noise, with chaos and with life. I was so unbelievably happy at that time. Finally my home was full and my heart was very, very full because this is what I was used too; a tribe of people. Not one or two people but many. A house full. And while I couldn't stand it growing up and daydreamed of my own place, away from the noise, it was what I grew up craving. And in the month or so following Roman's birth it felt like a non-stop party - in a good way. A very reserved, chatty party ;).


I realised that while friendships are to be treasured, maintained and grown what is more important is family. They've been here for 26 years, they're committed to me. And frankly, they can't escape me ;). 


I also want to put in here that someone in that ward/branch reached out to me at a difficult time in my new motherhood journey - in fact many lovely people did. And if you felt pushed away by me at the time, I apologise. It was a strange time for me - I felt I had so much to prove. 


I've been anxious on this blog for some time now. Anxious in the same way I was when I moved into a new area - I saw the groups of people who were already friends, saw the various meet-ups people were having and I felt very pushed out. Not sure where to start or end. Feeling like I'm neck deep in loneliness. It got to the point where if I got a comment from someone I knew I felt let down that the people I didn't know off the blog weren't interested in what I had to say. My so-called followers, for example. But I know how blogging works. You click 'follow' on a blog because it looks cool or because you want someone to follow you back. Or perhaps you just don't have a spare moment to leave a comment. Or maybe you want to read/lurk but not identify yourself.


All of those things are okay but I will say I got swept up in a moment of insecurity. Of not feeling good enough at all. That despite my own mum and aunt being my daily cheerleaders it seemed to matter what a bunch of strangers thought over them. Insanity. The point is very clear to me now and I capture it here because I want to remind myself of this in the future:


I'm here for me, not you. 


This blog, this project and everything else that follows is to entertain those who want to read it. It's a choice to be here, it's a choice to follow me and it's even a choice whether or not you like what I say. But what I write and document in our lives is also my choice and my way. If you don't like it, you don't have to like it. 


I love my readers. And I love comments. I also love to inspire people to do something of their own; to think, to create, to take action. I glory and celebrate when people can do that because I've somehow set off a chain reaction in their brains...but lately I was feeling like all I was doing was dragging myself down. I was wasting my time on a Project that wasn't relevant. Wasn't helping me or others.


All I can say is that if you feel I'm irrelevant, good for you. Feel free to think that. You can also stop reading beyond this point because quite frankly my dears, I don't give a damn what you think :).


For anyone who got beyond that point; of course we're all relevant. Every. Life. Counts. And every way you can demonstrate that and be that example to your children, your families and your friends you should take it with both hands. My personal choice is to document a year in pictures, a promise I made to myself on New Years Eve, 2011. 


I just deal with crippling phases of low self esteem and serious pre-menstrual issues. It doesn't make me a failure, weak or a monster. I'm human, after all. I have flaws and I'm not ashamed to admit them. And I also don't have a clue how to make friends in the 'real world' or in the 'blogging world' but I won't let it defeat my purpose. And pushing that aside for now - because in a week's time I'll be on a maniacal high; full of ideas, inspiration and an over whelming urge to gut every room and organise socks into colour order - I know that things can only get better.


For now, for the next year, I'll be taking a picture every single day. If I need a blog break from time to time I'll take that, too. If I do take a break please refer back to this post and keep gently encouraging me to keep going.


And thank you: for all the comments I got. Thank you for taking the time.

Enough of Me.

74/366

Lately I have caught myself thinking things like; does he get enough of me?

I know that one on one time is most needed at this precarious age, at all ages, but especially now. He's taking it all in, forming memories, forming links in his brain and he's learning how relationships work. I don't want to be responsible or at the helm of any damage.

In life my number one priority is always going to be my family. Me, Roman and Bryan. They come before anyone or anything. This doesn't mean my love can't grow, spread or be given to others it just means their needs, wants and desires outweigh those of anyone else. It's how my own parents were with us as children and it's what I know - and keeps me secure - but lately I have been knee-deep in working on author manuscripts. I manage to get a chunk of work done when Roman is out with Bryan (and I definitely manage to divorce work from home life, despite working from home) but there are days when I wonder what Roman thinks of me.

This Mama with a laptop glued to her knees. If he asks for a hand I will let him take me wandering. To the kitchen, the bathroom, the hall, his bedroom and sometimes we even go outside. I give him a little piece of me that no one else can touch - I give him my time because he is the one who needs it. If I run behind on deadlines I can apologise and, if it really came to it, work through the night. I lose sleep. That's it.

If I miss this toddler hood and if I fail on showing him that I can divorce work from my relationship with him, I can't get that back. I can't just say 'I'm sorry, Roman. I'm sorry I didn't give you enough of me when you needed it the most.' That won't make it okay. 

That's why being a mother is the most important thing. And it has to be. For the preservation of our society and for the sake of Roman's children, grandchildren and so on. He needs to know that yes, we have other interests and things we do outside our relationship but we put enough of ourselves into a relationship to make it work. 

We take 'hand' and we walk to wherever our toddlers lead us. Because sooner or later they won't be these sweet, impressionable mini-people. We will have wished away their whole entire childhood and then wonder where it all went. 

I remember sweet, sweet memories (and some not so sweet) of my own toddler hood. I'm 26 and remember being 2. That is a special achievement on the part of my parents, especially my own mum, who made every day absolutely magical and worth living. I want the same for Roman.

I don't ever want to question if he had enough of me or not. I absolutely want him to have enough of my time; one on one and as a family. The rest is just a bonus. This is my number one calling in life. Cobwebs, dirty laundry, author deadlines can all keep but a toddler hood cannot. You can't claw back that sweet, almost holy, passage of time that moves so quickly and so fleetingly.  

The Greatest Speech Ever Made

This video (below) was posted on my Facebook wall last night, sent by a friend who knows me - and in turn knew I would appreciate this.

Maybe I'm an old hippy at heart, after all, but I really believe all of the above. I'm going to work harder at being a better human - because no matter how small or unimportant you feel, it really is true that one person and one voice can make all the difference in the World.

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?

Home Vanity: Moving Home Edition.

They totally did a major tidy up before they took pics.

In a few short weeks I move to my first 'I get to furnish this place' home since I have been married so I have been indulging in a little interior spying.


My first port of call is Apartment Therapy - a website designed for people who always seem to keep their homes tidy and are pretty nifty with a jigsaw (I don't mean the puzzle, I mean the saw variety...but you knew that, unlike me a few months ago.) This website features the crème de la crème of interiors and the wonderfully put together homes shot on top notch DSLR's by their home owners.


There is no way that I can compete on this league, but I can aspire, right? I can day dream that I too will one day own a 'retro kitsch modern two tone loft.' Okay, what? I don't want to live in loft. Too cramped. But you catch my drift.


Here retro amounts to a cigarette burned couch or those hideous 1900's inspired carpets with lots of puke shade flowers on them. 


I want to be a bread-makin' lemonade pourin' wife. I want to make pies in my kitsch little kitchen and have my sexy husband shoot countless photos of me doing so - you know, all casual and of course I would be dressed 1950s style to complete the look I'd be going for. But I don't know if they sell 1950's style pyjama's and although my husband is sexy it's a rare occasion that you'll catch him taking photos - even though he's talented at it (I never tell him that as I don't like to praise him too often, his ego is big enough as it is.) 

Another problem we've faced living here is the matter of a guest bed. What do you all do when you have guests round? Do they take the couch? Air mattress? Do you have a spare bed? What's your set up?

Ours was letting guests sleep in the spare bed in Roman's room but that doesn't always work out too great and obviously as we're moving we won't have a spare bed. I'm thinking a sofa bed will solve this...or you know we could install a bed into the bathroom like these people did:

Or not.

It all looks so effortless and impossible. But there is one silver lining and it's this; a lot of these people are trying to cram their lives into small spaces. This is something we have been doing for nearly 3 years and now...now we don't have to do that any more. Our new home is ready and waiting with lots of cupboards, storage and..wait for it, because this is good...a handy little antique/second hand furniture store just ONE street behind us. 

I am mega excited, hopeful and very happy. I get over excited about things these days because there usually isn't good news for me health-wise ("No cure Mrs. Quinn."/"Nothing we can do."/"Go home and do nothing." Plus all the notes I get telling me I can't work, can you say frustrated?) and I am very excited about how quickly we've been blessed with this new place - it just appeared, we called up, B had a look around the place and before I know it our place here is up for grabs and we're moving in a few weeks time!

So, when we move, and whenever I get up the motivation/energy/get up and slow (you know, like get up and go ;) I will give you my own version of Apartment Therapy right here on this wee blog. I can't promise pie-making in my awesome more-than-enough-room-to-swing-a-cat-kitchen* but I can promise that it will be mine, it will be genuine and it will be awesome, all in it's own right. 

Oh yeah and I can't wait to make lemonade! Although, seriously, I am not prepared to give myself Type 2 Diabetes so if you know a sugar free/healthier alternative to traditional lemonade, throw it my way.

*No cats will be harmed in the taking of photographs.

Oh yes...and don't forget to vote (below) as I am trying to take over the World and really need your help with that!

Guess What?

Operation Working on Being a Better Mum to this guy & here's how:

I'm going sugar free for good.

I can't count on my two hands how many lives sugar has ruined. Sure, you need an excess of it for it to do real and lasting damage (teeth, mainly and the fact it makes people huge and that then causes them to get horrible illnesses like Type 2 Diabetes) I have made the leap to go sugar free for good.

This doesn't include natural sugars or food where I don't know there is sugar - although seeing as my diet is pretty great I don't see any room for error on that. 

I'm fed up of feeling that sluggish, tug of the guts feeling every time I have sugar in my life; which has been less and less these days.

I have been following (not to the letter) the 4 Hour Body Slow Carb diet. I guess this is my own adapted version as I am still eating fruit and potatoes - and pitta bread. By following I don't mean it's a fad. I plan on sticking to this for a long time coming because I have never felt better. Of course, feeling better could be an absolute fluke and I do make allowances that when I'm extra sick that I eat foods I can manage; smoothies, yoghurts and maybe even some wholemeal crisps.

Truth is since cutting out my unhealthy eating habits of snacking and not keeping regular eating patterns (they waver a tad these days but are generally better) I feel so, so much better. 

Yesterday I stuffed a bagel into my face at 1am. This is what I mean when I say I am not sticking to the letter of how I want my diet to be.

This isn't about looking at myself and being disgusted - I like myself a whole, whole lot and my confidence isn't effected by how I look - this is genuinely about finding a better way to 'be' with eating and my eating habits. I am not obsessed with losing weight, it will come off and that's that. This is about being a healthier version of me.

And I feel a whole lot better.

If people want to lose weight the formula is to eat less and do more. I am not looking for a formula because I already know that, I want a key to being a healthier person and maintaining realistic eating habits.

Being an imperfect person in an imperfect World.

18 year old me. I thought everything about me was "wrong" at this point.

I was feeling down one day.

Then one day turned into two. Two days into three and three into a week.

It went on and on and on until I suddenly realised I wasn't happy. In fact I was pretty unhappy. I began to self criticise (as you do.)

I thought about all the things I've ever done wrong: the time I told a kid his big brother was waiting for him and he wasn't, the time I stole a sweet from the pick n mix, the time I smoked a cigarette butt that I'd picked up off the pavement (wow was that one of the most disgusting moments of my life) and other, bigger, uglier mistakes I've made.

I then began to look at myself in the mirror and in photographs and I really didn't like I what I saw; lines, wrinkles, even grey hairs. I only looked half-decent when I threw on a shed load of make up. People were constantly telling me I was too big, too pale, too dumb, too negative, never happy and so on.

I can't remember where I let it get to me, but suddenly everything they said seemed to click into place and lock. 

These opinions and observations, that were really just a form of criticism of their own, turned into daily affirmations for me.

One day I decided that I'd had enough of hearing ugly, critical and hateful things inside my head. I was going to do something about it.

On my slow and steady journey into where I am now I discovered many things, but none that would surprise me as much as this...

I am an imperfect person in an imperfect World.

I need to give myself a break from time to time. I don't always get it right because sometimes I have to fail in order to learn. 

I couldn't believe that it could be that simple. Did it make me happier knowing this? No. What made me happier was time and being around the right influences and not letting the criticisms of others break into my conscience. 

Because you should allow the criticisms but be prepared to accept that they're not gospel truths all the time. Even your own criticisms.

To accept all the negative emotions and attentions of others isn't healthy for a self-esteem to blossom. 

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.

Flowers.

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?

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.

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 influence...it 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.