Love my two ♥

Overheard this funny moment today:

Teagan to Jude: "Was that funny, Jude?" (Obviously after doing something to amuse him)

Jude to Teagan, as clear as day: "Nope!"

(Photo credit goes to my Dad, after we assembled Teagy's loft bed earlier this week)

Fairytale Friday

Once upon a time...

A little blue-eyed boy fell asleep after a morning well spent with his Daddy on the ministry. He was so tired after his efforts and fell asleep to the glorious sounds of... wheels rolling on tarmac, big sister chatting and Daddy singing (probably). After approx. 2 hours, he woke up happy in his own cotbed. His Daddy presented him with a feast, full of some of his favourite things - sandwich, crisps, raisins, apple, 'stick bread' and drink with a side dish of cartoon and sisterly companionship. His voiceless Mummy bothers him by whispering his name, prompting him to turn for a quick photo in memory of her baby boy blue - eating sandwiches and apples no longer cut into small bite sizes - reluctant to let him grow so fast.

The Afternoon ♥

Memoirs of a brand new 30 year old ;)

Last weekend, I put a jacket in my 'give away' bag, couldn't bring myself to do it just yet, so took it right out again. Dan asked why, and I said 'smell it and you'll understand... or maybe you won't...' It still smells of my Grandma... I was 5 months pregnant with our little boy when she died. When both of my children do cute things, I send my Grandad, my parents and Dan's family a message or a photograph/video - and miss telling my Grandma every time. I still haven't deleted her mobile number from my phone.

I also share a soft toy apple with my cousins, bought in a local newsagents on the day our Nana died. It was something that made us smile on a difficult day and triggers a memory of a shared moment in time. I was going out with Dan at the time, so she didn't make my wedding and didn't meet our 2 little sweethearts. And I think of her often, suddenly tasting madeira cake in my mouth, smelling sweet milky tea and visualising Silvermints peaking out from behind a picture frame in her living room, I still remember her home phone number.

I used to email Uncle Kevin with anecdotes, photos and corny jokes, and we'd exchange lovely updates via texts from him about our little girls ('our' being his daughter Em and my daughter T who was 1 year and 3 months when he died). To me, he was so similar to my own Dad, his sense of humour and character, hence we got on well. I was very fond of him and his kind qualities. He reminded me of my Nana too, and I wish I was as good as they were at keeping in touch with extended family. I can't bring myself to delete his email address, it's still saved as a contact in my email account.

What probably started off this sentimental post was this - last night, I went to sleep in my 20's. This morning, I woke up in my 30's.

It's a funny feeling. Those of you who know me, know that I don't celebrate events such as birthdays, Mothers' day etc, any event with unchristian origins. It still makes an impression on me though, becoming a little older... perhaps I'll be taken a bit more seriously now. I found when people heard the word 'twenty' at the beginning of my age, it didn't seem to matter that I was a mum of 2, or that I'd quite possibly experienced some things they never had. It was all about a number. A low number. A number that indicates youth, lack of maturity.  I have a lovely friend, also a mum, gone through more things in life than I could even imagine. I feel she's nothing like others I know in our age group, certainly seems more mature than me at times, and she's a couple of years younger than me! The danger of assumption.

While I notice many I know are celebrating Mothers today, I hope I become worthy of my family, especially my children, celebrating me and my efforts more often than once a year. No need for chocolates, flowers or cuppa in bed (though all VERY welcome). A loving kiss, a warm affectionate cuddle (aka 'cwtch', Welsh word for such a hug) or a gesture from the heart is more than enough to help me feel appreciated and loved. Won't matter what age I'll be. As long as they love me. When my babies volunteer such gestures, I melt.

Be still, my beating heart  ♥

Letter to my daughter

Dear Teagan,

I knew about you 6 years ago, a scan introduced us formally and from then on, we got to know each other.

You had hiccups often, that didn't change much after you were born and these days, at the ripe old age of 5, you often like to argue with me about the best way to get rid of your hiccups.

You are sweet, sensitive, comical and stubborn. You know your own mind, just like me, your mum, and I love that about you (sometimes ;) ). I'm trying to bond with you more recently because I see you are growing up so fast and you and I are so similar in ways, we grate on each other at times. I don't want you thinking I don't care. I do care. A lot. I see similarities in you and I, as I see them in my own mum and I.

We're odd beings, you and I. We mean well, we take things personally and we stick our feet into the mud too much, but I'm told we're still very loveable. That matters too, kiddo. So take a deep breath, look around, see what and who truly matter in your life and embrace it. Friends will come and go but your family is your safety net, your haven.

We love you.

I love you.

Love Mum xx

Milk anyone?

I'm not generally a Pink sort of girl.  Strange, considering I am now the proud mother to one of the girliest 5 year olds I've ever met.

So here is an item of mine. Pink. I think I acquired it from my lovely paternal grandmother. I don't recall her being into pink that much either, I do like this jug though, especially if it was hers. She came from Co. Carlow, married my Grandad from West Cork, 8 children & I think 24 grandchildren later, I think we can safely say they settled nicely in East Cork.

This jug was made in Carrigaline - now just a short 15 minutes drive from Cork city, 30 minutes drive from where my grandparents family home was. When Dan and I got married, our wedding reception was a mere 2 minutes drive from my grandparents family home, my Nana had sadly died just 2.5 years before our wedding.

Later we found ourselves living approx. 25 minutes from where my grandfather was born. And now we live 8 minutes drive from where this jug was made.

Small random (perhaps even boring, I'm actually okay with that today ;) ) facts to you, but small cute information about me & my family, I look forward to sharing these facts with my grandparents over a getting-to-know-you-again cuppa and some homemade madeira cake when our Loving Father wakes them up from their deep sleep ♥

Disclosure: I like this jug even more now I've typed this memo! I think I should start displaying more pink around my home, not only in one little girl's bedroom :)

Update: Bye bye lovely pink jug. You fell out of the fridge last week. I miss you already but so glad I took photos! ;)  and newsflash, my hubby reckons he was given this jug by a mutual friend when he moved to Ireland and she moved away. Doh!

Hang on! Not finished with that yet!

My name is Emma and I am a hoarder.

I have a terrible habit of hanging on to this and that, for another day. I call it practical and sentiment, others may call it loopy, clutter and just too much.

And I get it. There is a side to me that craves order and simplicity.

My daughter (Little Miss T) is starting to show the same... I want to say traits but to me, that sounds harsh... habits. She stuffs all kinds of things into a handbag, then weeks later gets upset because she can't find something. Sounds familiar to me. 

About 2-3 years ago, I started taking photographs of sentimental things and throwing them out afterwards. I don't even remember looking at the photos after, I just feel better after taking them. A bit of closure before moving on. 

Last month, I taught my little girl this handy trick. Here is the photo we took together. Her favourite trainers (her Welsh daddy calls them 'daps'). Hello Kitty trainers. She wanted to keep them but couldn't use them anymore. They were kindly given to her last year by our lovely landlady. T had smaller feet then but kept trying them on for size. She was thrilled when they could finally be worn, just in time to start her first year of school ♥

We might not look at these photos again but who knows. They went into Nanny's bin so easily after we had a photoshoot and tried on her new Peppa Pig replacement trainers though. We're so alike at times, it's uncanny...

How to get some sanity. Part 2.

(for Part 1, please see my 1st of January 2014 post)

Can't believe I can finally say something has worked.

Handing over tons of baby clothes, 2 moses baskets, high chair... it's great!!! I even started decluttering my wardrobe, a full bin liner later and I feel like a new woman! Haha. Well, not quite. I see progress and floor space in my laundry/spare room, which is comforting.

I've had a few REALLY positive weeks, where I've felt more like myself, more in control of my feelings and managed to declutter my home and mind a little bit... Happiness, success and contentment swooshed through my veins... that word 'swooshed' is lovely, isn't it? 'Swooshed'. I think Miranda Hart would approve.

This weekend, I admit to having a wobbly. Overwhelmed and out of sorts, to be honest. I'm not saying this for sympathy, that isn't what I'm about. I say it out loud/online because I wish to be open and upfront with my family and friends. I don't wish to be the kind of person who makes life appear all rosy and perfect to the outside world while secretly panicking, sometimes welling up with frustration and fears. Colleagues in the past have often commented on my smiley disposition, calling me 'Smiley Em', sometimes giving out to me for being cheerful. Pah, it amuses me that they considered it strange! I feel intrigued and a little proud to be thought of in that way. Though I don't want anyone who observes my (or anyone else's) external cheerfulness to ever feel like it's never broken or tampered with anxieties behind closed doors. So much so, they may feel uncomfortable or even inadequate about their own abilities. I think herein lies the issue and even negative view about mental health. We shouldn't feel like we can't be honest, when people ask how we are... or when we feel low and want to speak up. Pride too is a dangerous thing.

Jeremiah 17:9

The heart is more treacherous than anything else
and is desperate. Who can know it?

And I remind myself and you, my friends, there's no such thing as perfect in this system! We all have our strengths and weaknesses. I'm learning to find and work with my strengths.

I also don't wish to moan. As I sometimes tell my gorgeous little daughter who has her moments, 'lots of moaning doesn't make us beautiful (inside or out)'. It may sound a little harsh, but I'm realistic and she appears to understand what I mean. I want to teach my children that it's okay to have good days, bad days, happy days, sad days, up and down days - and it's okay to express our feelings about them too, good/bad/indifferent. Sure, I'm protective and wish for their days to always be happy ones, but unfortunately we are in the lowest line of imperfect humans and this isn't really possible. We can try to make the best of them though :)

So, I forgot my lunch on Friday for the first time in years and was rescued by my lovely father. Made a silly mistake and broke down while driving yesterday (I know, I'm still learning, I should expect these bad days). Felt overwhelmed while it poured with rain yesterday on our family morning out and burst into tears. Panicked and shouted at my child today because they were doing something dangerous and didn't know it, they sulked until I calmly cuddled them explaining I wasn't cross, but I was scared, I loved them that much, they're irreplaceable, hence I reacted and shouted so loudly in the hope that they would stop, which they did.

This weekend has not been an easy one. An emotional ferris wheel. Felt like a failure at points. I did find pockets of sanity and happiness during a few moments though. When my husband made me a hot chocolate and gave me a proper cwtch (Welsh for a lovely warm hug), when our baby boy expressed 'Song, Amen, 'hovah' during our morning meeting, when our little girl sang a cute made-up song in the car on the way home after my blubbering episode yesterday morning and she also made her bed look beautiful this morning. Propped up cushions and everything.

I am grateful for my little things. I hope you can be too.

Tomorrow is Monday. Plenty to do. School starts again. I'll be cleaning up the same daily/weekly messes. Washing machine will be on full blast. Maybe the dryer too. The stereo, most definitely.