Not so zen after all

You know how last week I was being all philosophical and zen about embracing what life throws at you? Well that was then. Now I want to curl up in the foetal position and cry. A lot. I am a reasonably anxious person. Not as anxious as I used to be but still a lot more worrier than warrior. Especially, it seems, in the face of change.

Uninhibited and dangerous

Today marks the first birthday of my daughter. It's been twelve months since I made my contribution to the world's population. To celebrate, rather than share a blow by blow description of my labour I thought it would be fitting to share with you our home video of the birth, documenting every last minute of it.

Doesn't that sound wonderful?? No that sounds hideous. Hideous and long. Something I wouldn't inflict on anyone. Least of all you kind people who take the time to visit me here. No there is no video and there will be no details of the birth. Except that it was looooooong. Instead I thought I'd reflect on a few things I've learned since this day last year.

A compromising situation

Recently writing a very short synopsis of my career dredged up some unwelcome but familiar feelings. Fear, dread, inadequacy and a bit more fear.

Almost two years ago I gave up a job I loved for the person I love. When it comes to my working life, that is the troublesome sentence. We moved from Sydney to Oxford for my husband to complete a masters degree. Writing that now I'm acutely aware the move involved some sacrifice. Back then, I didn't gave it a moment's thought. 

Liberty in London

As much as I adore my long-coveted Gigi Storksak baby bag – a treasured gift from treasured friends - I also delight in the times I can skip out the door unencumbered by my big bag. These days nothing feels quite as liberating as a nearly empty handbag. So imagine my joy this morning. Not only was my handbag carrying just a wallet, phone and lipgloss but I was hopping aboard a train headed for London accompanied by my mum. All the way from home.

Of Mice and Men

I like those moments where it feels – in some weird way, in some small way - like the universe is talking to me. A while back this happened when twice in as many weeks, I clicked on Sarah Wilson's blog to discover her latest post was dissecting a topic which was - in that moment – the most pressing thing on my mind. Both were innocuous but I found them strangely cathartic.

Towels in the dryer

Whilst on holidays I stumbled upon a little gem of a book that delighted me for a few days. It's called The Shops and is written by India Knight, an English journalist and author that I adore. It's part memoir part shopping guide – which made me wonder could a finer premise for a book exist??

She says it's written for people like her who love shopping so much that they luxuriate doing the weekly run around the supermarket, as much as it's for her polar opposites. To convince them to cross the divide.

Schadenfreude

It wasn't out of the goodness of my heart but on Wednesday I made at least 14 people feel really good about themselves. I trialled a new music group for babies. There is no doubt in my mind, no matter what else happened in their days, they'd all be content thinking "Well at least I'm not that mother from this morning". That mother is me.

I know what babies are like in group settings. Some days they're great, other days they're not, but there's usually one little person creating so much calamity for their poor mother that the entire class can't help but feel just a tiny bit grateful that today it's not their little person.