Styling the seasons: January

Taking down the Christmas tree at the beginning of January was the perfect opportunity to begin the Styling the Seasons project, hosted by Katy at Apartment Apothecary and Charlotte at Lotts and Lots. The project involves styling a surface in your home each month to reflect the season and express what it means to you.

I wanted to create a mixture of a fresh, hopeful, springtime feel, but not hide the fact that it is still winter and Christmas isn't a distant memory just yet. January can be so dark and gloomy, all the glitter and sparkle of Christmas packed away but months to go until sunshine and abundance. I wanted an antidote to the January blues and a fresh start for me personally in our new home.

To begin I took the opportunity for a big clear-out and declutter of some spaces we hadn't yet organised around the house, and pulled out a ladder shelf which had been gathering dust and clutter in the cupboard under the stairs. I originally bought the shelf for the porch in our old house and hadn't thought until now how to incorporate it here.

These berries and glittery pine cones were part of a gorgeous bouquet of Christmas flowers. I also bought these beautiful gold birch twigs for Christmas this year. This part of the display is the remnants of Christmas, just a tiny bit of magic and glitter and sparkle that I'm not ready to let go of yet.

The second shelf is a bit of greenery, a couple of blooms that are still going from the Christmas bouquet and a big dark green leafy fern. This glass bottle is so cute, it's actually from the diffusers my sister-in-law used in the toilets before they moved away.

Next up I wanted more of a springtime feel, for a bit of colour and a reminder that light and new growth aren't far away. This rose reminded me of the beautiful cream and pink roses I used to admire in gardens as a child. The way the blush pink tipped the soft cream petals just captivated me every time, they made me think of ice cream and I couldn't decide if I wanted to smell the flowers or eat them! I popped it in this cute glass decanter I found in a charity shop.
To make the display practical as well as beautiful I added the pleasingly distressed watering can I use for the houseplants I manage not to kill off.

For the final shelf I wanted something quite robust and sturdy in case V in particular got her mitts on it. I spied these vintage keys in a gorgeous interiors shop near Cherry's pre-school before Christmas and couldn't resist popping back for them. I'm not sure they represent anything in particular at the moment - perhaps they will in future - but for now I think it's enough to just like the way they look!

I really love how the whole shelf looks now - a big improvement from holding Noel's sweaty cycling helmet and assorted bundles of precariously-balanced crap. I like how neatly it fits into the corner, and on a practical level I can put the phone and wifi router on the top shelf to keep them out of small mitts.

I also love having a part of the house that feels like it's just for me. As a full-time stay at home mum I spend a lot of time in the house and most of the time it's covered in Lego and blocks and the usual kiddy clutter. Being able to glance over to the corner and see this little display has really lifted my mood on the traditionally dark and gloomy first week 'back to normal' post-Christmas.

What I also love is how easy this display was to create using mainly things we already owned. I've never considered myself 'into' interiors or decor and as I've said before on this blog, our rented houses have always just been where we put our stuff. The last house we lived in did start to feel like a home, but this house is really inspiring and motivating me, it's such a beautifully blank canvas and so irresistibly light and bright. It doesn't take much, just odds and ends kicking about, to create a lovely display that makes you happy every time you look at it.

Of course first and foremost it's a family home, not a show home, and in the spirt of keeping it real I have to add the most of the time the bottom half of my lovely display is all but hidden by the guinea pigs, who have to live indoors most of the time at this chilly time of year.

The light in the bottom three photographs isn't great, and that's something I want to work on in future posts. I'm quite keen to keep any editing or filtering of my photos to a minimum at the moment, for various reasons, so I look forward to it getting lighter, brighter and easier to photograph my home in a way that does it justice.

The invisible link

The girl in these pictures has big blue eyes and thick brown hair. She is exuberant, joyful, loving and full of wonder. She is also passionately emotional and deeply sensitive. 

Life often delights her, sometimes it can overwhelm her. She draws comfort from loving arms and a sense of feeling understood and accepted, just as she is. 

The woman in these pictures is warm and wise. Deeply loving, endlessly giving. Becoming a mother gave her life definition, but it never defined her life. She has been and remains many things other than a mother, but she was and still is a mother first and foremost.

My daughter and my mother. Separated by a generation, their bond is entirely their own. Their link is seen but unseen. I see it so clearly in these pictures, in the girl and the woman.

I can see both the girl I was and the woman I am to become.

The invisible link, me.

Living Arrows 1/52

For a few years now I've watched as bloggers I love have charted and documented their children through photography, week by week.

I absolutely love the idea of recording my children as they change and grow. I'm going to take part in the Living Arrows project, in which you share a photograph of your child (or children, in my case!) every week.

The project, now in its third year, is inspired by the following quote by Khalil Gibran:

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth

As I watch my two children grow and change I can't help but see myself, the bow, reflected back, in good ways and bad. I understand more and more that my role is to fire my children into the world armed with the weapons they need - courage, kindness and love, always, always love. 

I take photographs of my children all the time. To the point whereby I have to tell myself 'no, STOP' sometimes when actually taking a picture would be a really, really bad idea. Like yesterday when Cherry and Violet were wandering along holding hands and giggling and I thought 'that would be such a cute picture' but in between attempting to grab my phone out of my bag and keep hold of the buggy my concentration wavered and when I looked up again Violet was marching determinedly towards the road!

Lapses in judgement aside, I have plenty to share.

First up is V.

The softness of your face! Sometimes I want to freeze time and keep you forever my little baby. It's been a long time since you were that tiny peaceful contented baby and now you never stop moving, chatting and making mayhem. But when you sleep, I see that gentle, contented peace you carry around inside your perfect little self. 

Oh, this girl and sleep - will we ever get there? It's been nearly 17 months and she's as erratic as ever. Over Christmas she actually gave us two separate nights in which she only woke once - once, not until 4.30am. I felt like I'd been on a spa break! But with the new year came two new teeth and we're back to waking hourly. Last night she was inexplicably awake from 11.30pm until 4am. CRY. 

But all it takes is one look through my burning, reddened eyes at her beautiful face, captured here in that rarest of states, asleep, and I would forgive her anything. She's at the most delightful age, her comprehension and speech impress me every day and her sense of humour is particularly advanced for one so young!

You announced this morning you were a princess and needed a crown. You went to soft play with Violet and Daddy and napped in the car on the way home. When you woke up you were all at sea. You climbed onto my lap and rested your face in my chest. 'Mummy! I don't want to be a princess any more.' I asked if you just wanted to be a Cherry and you nodded into my jumper.

Cherry has started properly at her Montessori pre-school this term. Last term she did two three-hour sessions a week, this week she is doing three three-hour sessions and going to lunch club for two of them. All in all she's out for 11 hours a week. After a year at home with the pair of them full-time, being able to hear myself THINK for 11 hours a week is absolutely heavenly! She's so funny about pre-school, she seems to enjoy it when she's there, talks about it a lot, she's MAD about lunch club and is making friends. But every single day when we get up (at 5am, this week!) she asks not to go to pre-school. 

She's a sensitive soul and not the most adaptable child, she's very resistant to change and responds well to routine. So I am hopeful that going to pre-school more often will help her adjust. If I thought she genuinely didn't like it, I would stop her going immediately, but she is so bright and happy and full of chatter and confidence when I pick her up, and talks so often about her teachers and friends, that I am sure it's the right thing for her. 

She's at such a wonderful age, such a funny, creative, loving, capable little thing. Bursting with energy and happiness and love and a total motormouth. She's a real handful!. 

I am so, so, so grateful to be these incredible girls' bow. 

Bringing creativity into my life

This year I want to become more creative.

I became a journalist primarily because I loved and excelled at writing, but the role of a news journalist is really to channel the voices and opinions of others. There is very little room for actual creative expression.

(As an aside, I find blogging surprisingly difficult, because I spent ten years being very proficient at removing all trace of myself, my opinions and my creativity from my daily output.)

It's probably no coincidence that since cutting dramatically back on work, I have found myself wanting to become more creative. When I'm being paid to write reams of content for clients, I don't really want to spend what little free time I have writing.

Creativity isn't exactly limited to writing - by definition, it's limitless. I have picked out a few areas in which I would like to become more creative this year.

They are

Writing
Might as well start with the obvious! I want to work on different types of writing and as a start have chosen to commit to a journal, this blog, and letter-writing to my family in Singapore. I am pondering adding short stories to the list, but that's probably enough writing for now!

Photography
God I love photography. I am not very good at drawing, so I have carried around for years the belief that I'm not 'arty' or can't 'do' photography. In fact I've always loved the concept of photography and been quite drawn to it, but lacked the confidence to actually begin to learn anything in earnest because 'I'm not arty'. Although once I thought about it one of the things I love so much about photography is it allows you to create art without having to draw anything yourself!

My home
Since moving into a family home I have come to understand that home-making is a skill and an art. A home can be functional and beautiful. A home can reflect the individual and collective personality of the people living within it. As a lifelong member of Generation Rent, until now my house has basically been where I put my stuff. It's only now that I have the freedom to make the house we are fortunate enough to live in, a home.

Working out
If I could I'd ride my bike for hours and hours every day. Unfortunately I have years to wait before my children are at school and such an ambition is feasible. Most days I work out in the house and there's not much I can do about that, but I can make the space I work out in more creative. I can also be more creative with my workouts in general rather than going through the same tired old motions.

My children
V is still a little young for true 'crafting' but Cherry loves cutting and sticking and painting and anything involving masses of mess and things that V shouldn't but always does end up putting in her mouth. They can however both decorate the s**t out of a cake, and V's pretty good at 'drawing', if by 'drawing' you mean sitting in her chair saying PAPER while eating Cherry's crayons and throwing stuff on the floor.

Meditation
I'm intrigued by the concept of creative meditations and adding visuals and other tools to the practice.

Connections
At the end of last year I took an introduction to massage course, which I will blog about another day. I learned a lot about myself during the five-week duration as well as much about the way in which we make connections. Human connections are far more than just verbal and massage is an entirely unspoken but deeply powerful way of making and nurturing connections. I'm excited to explore this more this year.

That'll probably do for now. I would love to hear any tips or recommendations for good learning sources on any of the above - particularly photography, as that's really dominating the list at the moment.

Gratitude list 2/1/15

1. Being reminded of an unpaid invoice I'd totally forgotten about *fires up Sweaty Betty website*.

2. The hyacinths my auntie Lizzie sent over for Christmas. They're groaning under their own blooms and the kitchen is full of their sweet scent.

3. Listening to Violet call 'Cherry? Aa-oo?' (Where are you?) in her adorable little voice.

4. A 30-minute Skype chat with my sister-in-law that left me feeling really close to and connected with her.

5. That people actually came to our open-house drinks party on New Year's Eve, and we got to meet and chat with several neighbours.

6. The house I live in. Every day I look at the enormous, graceful tree directly opposite and can't quite believe I actually live here.

7. The amount of love Cherry can convey just by looking at me with her beautiful big blue eyes.

8. The continued integrity of my twice-shattered pelvic floor through a vicious chesty cough over Christmas.

9. Being reminded I'm due an upgrade on my mobile phone and having a fancy new one winging its way to me as I write.

10. Noel, who reminds me of things like unpaid invoices and overdue upgrades.

My stomach, my self

How it is, and how it was.

I grew up with women's magazines. My parents didn't like me reading them, but I got my hands on them anyway. They were a gateway into a different world, a delightfully girly world of fashion and makeup and skincare and pleasantly obvious quizzes and what he REALLY wants in bed.

All I wanted was to be willowy and ethereal like the girls in the pictures. I was confused and slightly in denial about my own body. Everybody knew there were only three body types. You could be tall and willowy and slender, you could be eye-poppingly voluptuous with a tiny waist and opulent, soaring breasts and hips, or you could be tiny and petite and delicate, waifish to the point of emaciated, with bones hollow as a bird's.

I didn't want the broad shoulders, wide ribcage and thick waist with which I was gifted. I hated most of my body as a teenager, from my wild hair to the keratosis on the back of my arms to the way my thighs touched together at the top. But my midriff was my absolute fixation. My bete noir.

I read from cover to cover any magazine that promised a flat stomach in five days. I followed wonder-workouts for the belly slavishly only to see no difference other than a burning, aching midriff after a week of angry, frustrated sit-ups.

I wish I could say that as I got older my distaste for my body left me. To some extent I have made peace with myself. My hair I have embraced. The keratosis I have accepted, for want of any actual solution, and I bare my arms in summer unsightly pimples and all. I can smile indulgently at the phrase 'thigh gap', shrug my shoulders and move on. My shoulders now actively please me. They are magnificent and powerful and I love them.

My stomach, not so much. And not just because it's been ravaged beyond all recognition by two children. The stomach, the gut, is the very centre of the self. The gut is where instinct and intuition lie. Until I am at peace with my stomach, I am not at peace with myself.

It's hard to be at peace with a baggy, stretch marked, mysteriously fluctuating midsection. It's always been my 'problem area', it's never been flat, it can start the day quite unimposingly and end it looking six months pregnant.

Once upon a time it was quite pleasantly softly curved - at the time of course I loathed every single one of the many millimetres I could pinch between my fingers. Now there are many more millimetres - many more. I am not shaped like a high-street shop model. Most cuts of jeans and trousers dig in in all the wrong places, creating extra inches, spilling ingloriously over waistbands that aren't even tight.

Looking at my stomach in isolation it seems very simple. If you don't like it, change it. Work out more. Do sit ups. Wear Spanx. Go on the *insert wonder diet* diet.

Only I'm pretty fit and you only have to look at me to see, objectively, that I do not need to go on a diet. Waif-like and ethereal I am not, but you would be hard-pressed to convince me or anybody that I have a weight problem.

I have been reading a lot by Geneen Roth recently and I have come to know that it's not my stomach that's the problem - a problem - at all. It's quite the opposite.

My stomach has the answer.

It's my stomach that has been trying to show me the way all these years, while I have raged against it.

My stomach is where I pin all my hopes and fears. My stomach is how I have delayed and postponed life, when life gets scary and real.

I will do X, once my stomach is flat. When I have got in shape and my stomach is nicer, I will buy different clothes. I will pursue a different path. I will do different things.

I will be a different person.

(Only I won't, because on the odd occasion I have had a flatter stomach than usual I was still me)

My stomach is an extraordinary thing. It's a living, breathing, flesh and blood barometer. I know everything I need to know about myself at any given moment, through my stomach. I know how I feel about myself, how I feel about life, how I feel about the world, based upon how I feel about my stomach.

If I am feeling tolerant and loving, my stomach is a gentle friend, the home of my wisdom, the once-upon-a-time home of the children I grew.

Cherry, 36 weeks.

Violet, 36 weeks

If I am feeling angry and frustrated my stomach is the blancmange-like colossus that stands between myself and everything I feel I should be, or want to be. It is the wobbly, white, porridge-like roadblock to my destiny. My destiny as somebody else.

My stomach is a chameleon. It is the changing, shape-shifting monster of my nightmares and the comforting haven of my dreams.

My stomach tells me the truth. I know things in my gut, my stomach shows me the way, it cannot be ignored.

My stomach wants - needs - to be trusted. It demands attention, it wants to be listened to, it will not deceive me.

My stomach, my self.

What My Stomach Did part 1. Cherry

What My Stomach Did part 2. Violet

A word for 2015.

Noel's out with the kids and for the first time this holiday I have a bit of time to spend to myself. So obviously I went on Twitter and read a blog written by Annie, which led me to discover a blog written by Ruth, which led me to discover somebody called Susannah Conway.

Straight away I downloaded her workbook Unravelling 2015 and now my day has a deliciously introspective shape to it. I can't wait to sit down and reflect on last year which was, for many reasons, my hardest ever.

Part of the exercise involves choosing a word for 2015, to keep in mind as something of an overarching theme for the year to come.

Before I even begin I know what theme will dominate my 2015, and so my word is….

….of course….

VILLAGE!

At the end of 2014 my brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew moved to Singapore. My sister-in-law is my best friend, my brother is about my favourite person in the world that I haven't either birthed or married, and my niece and nephew are Cherry and Violet's best friends and soul mates. We have lived with, or round the corner from, each other since 2008 and our children have grown up together.

Now they're on the other side of the world. My village has flown the village.

And so this year I need to address the loneliness they have left behind. I can't replace my best friends and my children's soul mates of course. But having had close family close by at all times, it's safe to say I've been pretty lazy about making new friends.

So this year I need a new village. Friends. Friends for the children, friends for Noel and I as a couple, and friends for me.

I want company and community. We all do. It's a fundamental human need.

I want to be able to pop next door and ask my neighbour to keep an eye on the girls for 20 minutes while I run an errand. I want to be able to text a friend and arrange a playdate for Cherry if she's driving me bananas bouncing off the walls and just needs another child to be childish with.

I want to look after friends' children so they can pursue their needs, and have the favour returned. I want to talk to friends about the future, find out their hopes and dreams, listen as they work out what they will do next.

I want a house full of laughter, I want friendship and company, connections.

I want a village again.

So, we've kicked off by inviting the whole street to ours for drinks and nibbles on New Year's Eve in the afternoon. So far we have no idea who, if anybody, is coming. Many people are away, many others will be busy with plans and friends of their own.

But even if it ends up just the four of us and one solitary neighbour who has absolutely nothing better to do, it's a start.