steen ink

2012-01-22T20:43:00.000-04:00

Remember me? the not so faithful blogger has returned. Sorry for all the radio silence. I was busy all of December with all those crazy December things and then right slap bang on Christmas day we began a month long marathon of sickness. I scoffed down my Christmas dinner to the sound of Finchums screaming and Molly into a 'boke bucket'. Not very merry. With the coughing came the sleep deprivation and with the sleep deprivation came the grumpiness. Then all three of us got the mother of all eye infections which was horrendous and to top it all off, just as we were nearly better....chickenpox for Molly!

There have been many moments over the last 4-6 weeks that I wanted to sit down and right a blog, but it would have been terribly gloomy. Now that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I'm getting more than 1 hour blocks of sleep in the night, I realise that perhaps life isn't really that bad.

In other news, shortly before Christmas I got myself an iPhone. Swooooon, I am in love. Here is a sampling of the 50 billion instagram photos I take everyday.

Happy Halloween Everyone!

2011-10-31T19:44:00.003-03:00

I love Halloween and all things Autumnal. Last weekend my wee country town had their annual Autumnfest, with pumpkin carving, scarecrow competition, toddler dance, bouncy castle, fireworks and more. And tonight me and the Mollster went 'Trick or Treating', I'm glad to say we were treated very well and I've been 'helping' Molly with the terrible task of candy-eating. Molly was a rag-doll this year, I got the idea from here (which incidentally is where I got last years costume ideas too. See? I'm just a follower). It was a super easy costume to make, all the clothes are Molly's own and the wig took about 20 minutes to make and cost me a £1.50 ball of wool.

Finch sat this year out, it would have been a nightmare dragging him from door to door, he is a feisty little thing at the moment and he'd probably have been yelling and wrestling me to get into everybody's home! I'm learning to pick my battles and not out-do myself just because I want the perfect little family picture (when the reality would have been all tears and stress).

eating some of her treats

Hope you all have had a lovely halloween. x

FiMo

2011-10-30T18:19:00.003-03:00

A while ago, on facebook, I asked for suggestions for a Molly and Finch hybrid name. The one that has stuck most was suggested by the wonderful Claire from tee and toast. Claire came up with the eversoperfect FiMo.

FiMo are the best of friends, conspirators in all sorts of mischief and most happiest around each other. This was them this morning, as many mornings, they trailed all their toys onto the landing whilst I pulled my head under the covers and tried to top up on sleep (I am not a morning person).

Help a Sista Out

2011-10-20T20:02:00.004-03:00

Please please can you take a total of 10 seconds to 'like' my great friend Sarah's contest entry. The prize will enable her to attend the cookery school of her dreams. She's been wanting to take this class for years. Plus, I'm looking forward to all the delicious meals she'll invite me around for ;o)

Ode to the 'Likers'

2011-10-13T21:28:00.002-03:00

This is for the followers, the 'likers', the subscribers, the commentators, the prayers. For all of you who sit there in the glow of another computer screen (many of you thousands of miles away) and time and time again listen, laugh, cry, rage and celebrate with me.

Thank you.

I have felt warmed by your 'likes', spurred on by your comments, consoled by your stories and most of all, just knowing you are there listening, draws me out of isolation and into community.

I'm an external person, I have no doubt that it wears many thin to hear yet another status about potty training, sleep deprivation or Molly-isms. But I am so grateful to those of you who've stuck it out with me, celebrating the small daily triumphs and sent appropriate emoticons when the disasters keep rolling in.

One Photo an Hour 8-10-11

2011-10-09T17:00:00.008-03:00

I've been wanting to do a 'photo an hour' thing for a while now and Saturday's plans were shaping up for some good photo opportunities. So here is a day in the life of The Family Steen.

good morning mummy * time to get dressed * most important meal of the day

ready to go * picnic at the harbour * the boat to portaferry *

play park fun * caffeine fix * marine biology

exhausted toddlers * home for a snuggle * cartoons and blankies

visiting friends * chilli and mojito's * feet up and red wine

grown up blankies & tv * time to get home to our own beds * mandatory fb check

night night

I don't recall a single care, just greenery and humid air

2011-10-05T19:31:00.005-03:00

Returned from a weekend on the coast. Cobwebs have been blown from my mind and dare I say I seized some....light...hearted moments. Hope you all are well and find some time today to take a big deep breath and look at the beauty around you.

Everything about this makes me smile

2011-09-27T14:45:00.001-03:00

A little snapshot from dinner time this evening.

Weekends and Vacations

2011-09-18T18:07:00.004-03:00

Sometimes parenting alone feels so restrictive. On weekends most of all. We tend to stay housebound on Saturdays so to avoid all the nuclear families that infest the streets we happily roam during the week (how dare they). Vacations feel completely out of reach. The reality is: yes we can go out on Saturdays, yes we could go on a holiday, but those are the times when I most miss the company of another adult. And the conversation of another adult, because there is only so many times you say 'is it yummy in your tummy?' with out a bit of 'what's the current situation in Libya?'

Every once in a while I like to push myself to do something out of my comfort zone. Just to show myself that I can do it. About a month or so ago the three of us had a camping excursion. Both the kids have been camping with me separately but this was the first time the three of us tented it together. Albeit it was in a friends back yard but it was pouring down with rain outside, so it was a true authentic Irish camping experience. Finch went down to sleep at his usual bedtime whilst the rest of us watched a movie and ate popcorn. It was a great success (including the 9:30 lie in!) and it left me feeling a little bit empowered.

What other practical things do you single mums find restrictive?

Free weekends

2011-09-16T11:00:00.004-03:00

I have the privilege of having an amazing support base around me. Friends and family galore who will be there in a heartbeat if we needed them. Once a month I get a child free weekend. This is a great sanity keeper and I try to cram as much fun as possible into these weekends. The last funfest began with thai food and The Civil Wars in Dublin and was promptly followed by my first ever Electric Picnic, an arts festival just outside Dublin. Musical highlights were definitely Arcade Fire and Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros.

After all the fun I needed a wee rest. But....

... I woke up to this instead.

Going Backwards...

2011-09-12T19:24:00.004-03:00

Source: ffffound.com via Alli on Pinterest

Molly was on the naughty spot for forty minutes today. Forty minutes of screaming, yelling, kicking and wailing. When it gets past two minutes the point of the punishment becomes irrelevant and the time out is more about putting a healthy distance between two very angry people. I walked away from her wriggling, raging body and went downstairs, deliberately taking deep breaths with every step. I sat down on the couch picked up my journal and wrote five little words:

I hate being a mum.

Right in that moment I could barely have meant it more. Reaching that kind of brutal realisation was a culmination of many factors, toilet training being a large one, but the greatest contributer has nothing directly to do with Molly or Finch. It is this darn grim mood I've been wearing, or that's been wearing me. I feel I have been walking around heavy hearted for over two months now. It's different than I've felt before. It isn't an eventful sadness, just a deep one. I am continually racking my brain to figure out why, why now? I've been continuing along the same path for 21 months now things have been progressively been getting better, easier and more hopeful. I've felt capable and at times I even felt victorious. But now I feel right back at square one. I was standing alone in my kitchen the other day, sipping green tea and feeling bleak when I found myself sighing and saying aloud 'it's like he left me yesterday'. And that's how I feel most days (at the moment). I'm not sure wether it's the looming divorce, which of course I want, there is no turning back now and severing as many ties as possible is needed and wanted. But it's like my head is stuck in the past and each thought and memory ultimately concludes with the same resounding chorus 'how did it all go so wrong? how could he? how did I get here?'

It's a round the clock pity party I'm holding in my head. I do know that. But I feel I must enter it in order to get through it. I've taken up my journal again and am scribbling down my morbid thoughts in a hope to cleanse myself of them. Cleanse myself so that I do not let my ugly attitude leak and infest my parenting. When I happened upon the above image on a late night pin-party I nodded my head, I am 'going backwards to recover that which was left behind in the rush'.

This is the first night that Molly and Finch are sharing the same bedroom. It's something I'm going to try out for a while. Before I started writing this I snuck upstairs and peaked in on them. I tucked them in and made sure their favourite blankies were close at hand if they woke up scared, I kissed their little heads and I whispered five little words:

I love being a mum.

Bad Attitude

2011-08-20T11:55:00.004-03:00

Molly: Can I have a cuddle mummy?

She leans in and butts me in the mouth giving me a bloody lip

"OUCH!"

Molly: Can I kiss it better?

It's been a long day of one child related 'disaster' after another,

I start to loose it.

"NO Molly, no, no you can't kiss it better, it's really sore!"

Molly: Can you say sorry Mummy?

"And just what do I have to say sorry for Molly?"

Molly: umm......you're angry.

Touche.

And then she gets her cuddle.

Lebowskifest 2011

2011-08-14T19:15:00.006-03:00

Some great friends were visiting from Canada. So it seemed like the perfect excuse for another little Lebowskifest. Twas a brilliant evening with brilliant people. There were White Russian's a plenty and we all snuggled together by a firepit, watched the movie projected onto a farmhouse and shouted 'It really ties the room together!' at any given moment. You can find a previous little Lebowskifest featured here.

A couple of White Russians and a Baby Jesus.

The Dudes

Autobahn

Woman with Bowling Ball.

Finding Myself [single]

2011-08-11T18:25:00.005-03:00

I've never been entirely fond of the concept of 'finding yourself'. It always seemed like a luxury reserved for middle class, naval gazing, women. Think of the constant self centered meanderings seen in Eat. Pray. Love [vomit] (I can only speak for the movie, not the book) or the selfish pursuits of Meryl Streeps character in Kramer vs Kramer. Ugh blah blah blah, why don't you just go eff* yourselves (*eff = find. See? I wasn't being profane, I was being witty :o)

But here's the thing. I 'find myself' using this phrase quite a lot now. Not so much in the vague, naval gazing sense, but as a precursor to something else 'I find myself thinking about an imaginary career', 'I find myself sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor shouting 'I'm the BOSSSS'', 'I find myself hiding in the laundry room eating a chocolate bar as fast as I can so the kids wont see' and most commonly 'I find myself - single again'. The phrase seems to have set up home in my daily vocabulary, a symptom of being involuntarily thrust from one phase of life [back] to another. A shorthand to describe the feeling of waking from a long sleep, scratching my head and squinting my eyes to figure out where I am.

And within this 'helpless' state I 'find myself' (there I go again) learning to discard my previous disdain for self discovery and dabbling in a bit of it myself. There are many times I catch myself mid sentence and suddenly think 'oh wait, do I really think that, or did he/we?'. Not that I was in any way a subservent, meager, imitator in my marriage. But It's impossible to be in a partnership and avoid the inevitable merging of views. In turn perhaps we compromise something of our true, authentic voice?

I'm not chanting in a candle lit room, or going on any exotic pilgrimages (if only the latter). But I do 'find myself' having to mull things over more. It isn't so much a journey of self discovery as it is self expansion. I have claimed it, made it deliberate and decisive. And fun.

I'm sure all of you fantastic blog readers will have came across this video many times. It seemed to go viral about 6 months ago. But you will never tire of a good thing so have another wee watch.

Ps. Guess who turned one?!

He is a perfect little man full of giggles and big sloppy kisses. I cannot imagine my life without him.

28

2011-06-27T19:59:00.003-03:00

It has been a crazy [1.5 years] few months here at Chez Steen. Filled with more febrile convulsions - 4 collectively (Finch decided to join that club too, I can hardly believe it), a minor car accident with big financial consequences, a dog bite, molly 's first ever nightmares and countless other things that seem minor on paper but when they all come one after the other leave me feeling spread way too thin. The sort of things that don't co-exist comfortably along with the social life a single girl needs in order to maintain sanity. You know the things, dinner with friends, going out dancing till your feet hurt and...well, dating. I am still very much a novice in the latter department but I am learning through trial and error!

I am trying to hold all the above things in balance and realise that I miss out on stopping long enough to reflect and collate my thoughts. I miss writing on this blog. I am really going to try to find more time for it.

P.S. a year ago today I wrote this post, so so glad I am living in happier times. Here comes 28!

Cool Girls Spin Vinyl

2011-04-18T19:12:00.005-03:00

And in my endless pursuit of being a 'cool girl', I scored some charity shop records today. I dusted off the record player that was left here when I moved in, sat back and listened to the warm crackly songs. And smile.

I'm not a huge fan of designer labels. If my clothes ever do have big showy labels on them, I usually try and cut them off or conceal them. However, I was rather tickled today when I was admiring this cardi in a charity shop and discovered it was MaxMara, I looked over my shoulder suspiciously, crept my way over to the cash register and promptly purchased it before anyone else discovered it. I have dreams of teaming it with a grey pleated maxi skirt, a big chunky brown belt and a straw hat this summer.

The Runaways

2011-04-10T19:01:00.006-03:00

Just watched The Runaways and am now desperately longing to own some leather trousers. Dakota Fanning and Kirsten Stewart made some very convincing rockers. Whilst It won't be making my top 50 movies of all time, it certainly is top ten in the somewhat niche category of 'Films about Self Destructive Young Females [who appreciate a Good Tune]'. Here are some of the titles that can be found in this unusual top ten [and the 'good tunes' that accompany them]:

+ Girl, Interrupted - Petula Clark/Downtown

+ Almost Famous - Elton John/Tiny dancer

+ La Vie en Rose - Edith Piaf/Non, je ne regrette rien

+ Virgin Suicides - Air/Moon Safari

.....The rest elude me....Suggestions please?

Here are some pretty colours from The Runaways.

blue

grey

pink

Homey

2011-03-13T09:45:00.002-03:00

Here's a few pictures of what is being turned from a house to our home. I'm taking my time with finishing off rooms, there are still so many pictures and shelves that need hanging, but I want to ensure all the furniture is perfectly located before I start taking a drill to my walls.

'Winters come and gone...'

2011-03-10T18:30:00.005-04:00

I am a bad little blogger. I must admit, I feel little inclination to 'put pen to paper' these days, inspiration is sparse. Perhaps I have bloggers block?

Happily, I believe contentment has toned down the torturous introspection that plagued me this last year. Spring has sprung, life feels new, all the horrible 'a year ago today...' milestones have been reached now it's just about building new memories and creating our own traditions.

The Steen garden is blooming with crocus' and daffodils. The evenings are bright and cheerful. The days are getting warmer and beg to be spent outdoors. It is happy life that I live.

"So long now I've been out in the rain and snow

But Winter's come and gone, little bird told me so."

If you ever thought I was cool, let me correct you on that...

2011-02-03T20:18:00.002-04:00

Just over a week ago my aforementioned Pecha Kucha talk went live on vimeo. I've hmmd and haad as to wether i'd share the video here. Watching it makes me shudder, my voice is all shakey, some of my photos are really bad, I sound like a wannabe and there is definitely a point where I sound like a psychopathic ex-wife. But sure, in the interest of being more authentic. Here I am in moving pictures:

PKN Belfast 2: Curiosity – Alli Steen Magee from atto on Vimeo.

On The Laps of Their Parents

2011-01-29T16:41:00.005-04:00

It continually fascinates me to watch Molly imitate me. Functioning like a mirror set up to show me exactly how she perceives my parenting. Somedays her teddies and dollies are repetitively put on the naughty step and told to say sorry. I bite my lip as I watch her role play, thinking 'am I overdoing the discipline?', 'Is that all she sees our relationship as? A never ending time out?'. But there are other days, when I walk into her room in the morning and see all her toys snuggly tucked into bed, or when she lays dolly over her knee and rubs her back. In those moments I think I must be doing something right.

'Dolly', the recipient of Molly's mock parenting, was Moll's

Christmas present this year, I made her with this tutorial.

The other day she sat for an hour with 'dolly' on her knee and read her stories, book after book, inventing the narrative in her own native language. It reminded me to not roll my eyes so much next time she follows me around the house, holding a book and exclaiming 'Mummy's knee! Mummy's knee!'

(found here)

What are some of your favourite children's books? Me and Moll are equally obsessed with Calef Brown's Polkabats and Octopus Slacks. This book has been torn to pieces and taped together many times, the sign of a much loved book.

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A little update: Finch has finally started sleeping through the night. The second day that he received 3 solid meals he went from a 4 hour waker, to sleeping 12 hours straight! It seems he was just way too hungry to sleep all night long. I feel like a whole new person.

Introducing The Steen Family

2011-01-23T19:24:00.007-04:00

The post brought a big envelope the other day containing our Deed of Name Change. I could say 'it's been a long time coming' but it hasn't. A year is not an extraordinary amount of time to find yourself with a different name, a different means of identifying yourself, a different identity? But it is time. And I'm ready, though It will take time to adjust to our new name. To grow into it.

Keeping my married name was no longer an option to me. Losing 'Magee' was never intended to be a purging of the kid's biological fathers presence (who lives on a different continent and is not involved in their lives in any way**). I am not interested in changing our names as a means of revenge. But I no longer feel comfortable with having the ownership of 'him' implied in my surname and consequently It would seem a little strange for the kid's to have a different surname to me when I am their sole parent.

In molly's first year of life, so delighted was I that Molly had made us a family, I would proudly make statements like 'Family Magee joined the library today' and 'It's Family Magee's first Christmas'. But as soon as I set foot on that plane I felt I could no longer make those statements. I'd take a breath to say it and then I'd stop myself, because 'Family Magee' was broken, incomplete.

We were three and then we were two. But along came Captain Finch and restored us to our former tri-glory. And we needed a new title to give our new family.

Somewhat controversially, I've decided not to return to my maiden name. That decision was almost instinctual right from the moment it looked like 'things' might be going wrong. Returning to being a 'Reid' felt like a step back. It's not that I had an unhappy childhood or teenage years, but I never felt comfortable in my own skin back then - and that's what 'Alli Reid' conjured up to me - low self esteem, insecure and afraid. That Alli is gone and I refuse to step back into her shoes, despite how tempting it's been at times.

So why Steen? Steen is my middle name, but to me it has never been just a word to bridge the gap between forename and surname. Many of my close friends refer to me as 'Steen' or 'Steeners', it is the title I have chosen to give all my creative endeavors since I was old enough to make birthday cards with glitter glue. It was my great grandmothers surname and my grandmothers maiden name. I never met my grandmother, she died before I was born and my great-grandmother died when I was an infant. But I have grown up knowing my great aunties, still referred to as 'The Steen Girls'. They are a force of nature; strong, determined and big hearted women. Having been given Steen as my middle name always felt quite a compliment and indeed a standard to live up to. Unfortunately the name died out when each of The Steen Girls married and took on their husband's name. So I guess us becoming Steen's is a way of resurrecting the name and hopefully carrying it on. I always thought if I had children, I'd give one of them Steen as a middle name. I never expected it would become our family name. But here we are. Steen's and proud.

Meet the Family

Allison Steen, Finch Timshel Steen and Molly Joan Steen (my name sounds so short now! especially since I usually go by Alli Steen. But I'll get used to it.)

So here I go using it for the first time: Family Steen got our first family picture today. What did you do?

** but it's easier that way and I am can honestly say now that I'm grateful for the space and feel the kids do not lack in any love

2011-01-14T09:55:00.002-04:00

This day a year ago me and Molly boarded a plane...

Till we are called to Rise

2010-12-30T18:45:00.004-04:00

I frequently find myself drifting back to memories from this time a year ago, when I was so blissfully unaware what was just a week ahead of me.

It's like she's still out there, the year ago me. Somewhere on the time continuum she is tidying up the wrapping paper from her daughters first christmas and discussing baby names with her husband for their unborn child. She's happy and in love. And I want to hold her hand as she begins to face the pain ahead of her, the months of being strung along, the awkwardness of finding herself pregnant and alone. But I can't. Instead I whisper to the wind:

We never know how high we are

till we are called to rise

and then if we are true to plan

our statures touch the skies

(emily dickenson)

Let's hope that 2010 will be safely filed away forever as the worst year of my life.

Only onwards and upwards for 2011 please! No more looking back, there are new frontiers ahead of me: Home owning, raising two children, figuring out what kind of a career I want (now that I'm all grown up), and who knows, maybe I may enter into the scary world of dating this year...

Thank you all so much for your support and listening ears this year, It's meant a lot.

A Mummy For Two Years

2010-12-14T17:17:00.007-04:00

Molly turned two last week. Unfortunately her birthday was spent unpacking boxes and hanging curtain poles, but it all needed done and she won't remember. I can hardly believe it's only been two years, It seems longer. So much has happened, so much has changed. I feel different, Motherhood changed me. It was like I found myself for the first time. I found something I could do, something I was born to do. Does that mean I'm great at it? No No No, but I do know how to do it and no one else can be Molly's mummy but me. It's my job. My vocation.

So much has happened in the last two years. I became a mum, I got pregnant again, I lost my husband, I moved house, moved country, returned to live near my family for the first time in 7 years, I found there is pride and solidarity in single parenthood, I met and named my son, gave birth to him pain relief free ( I like to drop that one in whenever I can ;o). And after all that, we've set up home again.

That's a lot for just two little years. When I look back at photos of myself from two years ago, I barely recognise myself. Who was that girl? I'm starting to agree that "A person is a collection of selves. We change over time, we never stay the same on our journey to the grave."

And then there is the Mollster. I can't believe how much she has changed in the last year. She took her first few unassisted steps a few weeks after her first birthday. Now she runs and climbs everywhere. These days she is a pro-jumper she just seems to bounce everywhere. A year ago she hadn't uttered her first word, now I can have a full fledged conversation with her. And now she is a big sister. And the best big sister I can imagine. She adores her little brother. ADORES him. She can't stop kissing and hugging him. His name is the first thing she says in the morning 'Wheres Finch? Mummy!'

She likes to join in on tummy time with her baby bro

She is a wonder. Making friends and winning fans wherever she goes. She won't let anybody push her about. Strong willed and full of dances. I love her. I like here.

I stumbled upon this image a few months ago and have been saving it for the right occasion. It is beautiful but it makes me teary.

Installation by Miranda July

Happy Birthday My Girl.

Painting Clothes

2010-11-24T20:28:00.006-04:00

Hello there. How's it going?

Me? Well, I haven't been out of my painting clothes in over two weeks*. I've been ripping up carpet, stripping wallpaper, damp proofing and painting, painting, painting. I feel like it will never end. It's a little overwhelming but also very exciting. I can't believe It's mine...ours, all three of us with our very own bedrooms. I can't wait to get to the fun part of moving in furniture and hanging pictures on the walls.

In the meantime here is a picture of my boy, beautiful, smiley, very fond of rolling over and allllwaaays awake. I thought babies were supposed to be sleepy? Not this one, he doesn't like to miss a thing.

I want to point out that the shirt he is wearing here is actually Molly's. With a little bit of sleeve rolling they can fit the same clothes, crazy.

* Ok, Ok, I got out of my painting clothes once to see one of my hero's in the flesh. Mark Kermode, aka The Good Doctor, was doing a Q&A session and film screening in Belfast last week. If you're a movie lover you should definitely tune into the Kermode and Mayo Film Review Podcast. Even if you don't agree with him on everything you'll appreciate his convictions/rants and you'll have a little chuckle along the way.

This is my starstruck face, not the most flattering of faces, it has to be said.

The Unveiling of Finch's Secret Middle Name

2010-11-10T18:48:00.010-04:00

Confession, I was extremely, embarrassingly late in registering Finch's birth. Here in the uk you need to make an extra special trip to 'The Registrar' (sounds like a bad thriller). So a full twelves weeks after Finch's birth I shamefully made my way to 'The Registrarrrrr'. Finch was all cosied up in the Baby Bojrn and Moll was toddling by my side. I wandered in and began with my red-faced apologies for my tardiness.

-------------------------

Lady no.1: I was just saying to (lady no.2) that this couldn't be a birth registration because the baby looked far too old

Me: Yes, yes I'm so sorry, i'm terrible, I've just been so busy with these two

Lady no.2: You know your child benefit won't be fully backdated?

Me: yes, i'm sorry.

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It wasn't until I was working through some of the details on the form, namely the fathers details and my maritial status, that 'Lady no.1' looked up at me and said 'Ah , yes, you have been busy'.

'Uh yeah'

However, I am grateful for my tardiness on this issue. It gave me extra time to think carefully about his name. Names have been on my mind a lot lately. Should I change mine? if so, can I change the kids? Would I get consent to do so? Would I go back to my 'maiden' name? or should I chose a new one altogether? Blah Blah Blah.

With all these questions, doubts and ideas bubbling around in my head I had a good long think about Finch's name. I've never doubted his forename for a second, it is brim full of meaning and I love it. But, for reasons that shall remain unsaid for now, I felt he needed an extra middle name. But what?

As the precedent had been set, It would need to have meaning, the 'I just liked the way it sounded' approach doesn't really work with me. I started to think of the names of admirable, history-making men. 'Bartlet', the president from West Wing came to mind.

And then I stopped myself. I wised up. He already has Atticus freakin' Finch as a role model, perhaps I should give the little guy a break, and maybe even a bit of a reality check. He's human and fully capable of making mistakes, perhaps even massive ones. Just because he is 'The Man of the House' doesn't mean we'll be sitting at his feet asking him to pass on his wisdom and guidance. And Then I smiled. Because there had been a name (or a word more so), all along, just waiting for me to realise how perfect it was.

Around a year ago, In the midst of 'the unravelling' I became addicted to the debut record from Mumford and Sons. These songs were pretty much on repeat for about 6 months. One evening when I was listening to the album in the company of friends, my oh-so-special-lady-friend Ms. Heather Kerr jokingly said to me "um, Alli - did you write these songs? Are you a secret member of Mumford and Sons?". I laughed But I also breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't just me that thought these songs were so fitting for my crisis.

One particular song that spoke to me was this:

(Me and Heather now jovially refer to each other as 'brother' due to this very song.)

Hark

I won't go into it line by line, but I assure you, each sentence resonates strongly with me. It acknowledges the pain and desolation I feel but reminds me that whilst 'it may steal my innocence [but] it will not steal my substance'. It tells me that I am 'not alone in this'. It is particularly this verse that strikes deep within me:

"You are the mother, the mother of your baby child, the one to whom you gave life. And you have your choices, and that is what makes man great, his ladder to the stars"

I got to see Mumford and Sons in concert a few months ago. It was my first night away from Finch. I waited for this song anxiously, knowing it would bring up a lot of emotion in me. There were tears, there were hugs, there were even a few strange looks. But who cares, I threw my hands up in the air, closed my eyes and let the little bird inside my soul fly freely for a while.

(Photo taken of that very night by the very talented Mr Darren Anderson)

Upon falling in love with this song I researched the meaning behind the title. Timshel is Hebrew for 'Thou mayest'. The word is explored in John Steinbeck's book 'East of Eden' :

"The Hebrew word Timshel, which means ‘Thou mayest’ - gives man a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. It says the way is open... and throws it right back on a man.

‘Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods - for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.

And I feel that a man is a very important thing — maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed — because Timshel: ‘Thou mayest.’"

Timshel - It is resplendent with significance. It speaks with sorrow about the choices his father made. It empowers me by reminding me that I do have my choices. It is because I could run away that makes the staying so much sweeter.

And So this is my son's not-so-secret-anymore middle name. Finch Timshel Steen Magee. It's quite a mouthful and will probably not be used very often. But it's still important, at least to me. I could name him after all the most influential and nobel men in history but at the end of the day, he is his own little person with his own little (and large) choices to make. As his mother I cannot make his choices for him, I do not own him. Kahil Gibran says "you may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts." I must surrender to the fact that he has been granted free will, free choice

- Thou mayest.

A Parliament

2010-11-06T20:57:00.000-03:00

(Again, apologies for the poor quality of photos, still can't find my camera so they are still taken with a hijacked iphone)

This halloween we were a parliament of owls. I took inspiration from this tutorial and made us all little owl costumes. We attempted trick or treating but most people didn't answer their doors. In the first house that did, Molly ran straight into their hallway and took a tantrum when I told her we had to leave. At the second house Molly began shoveling marshmallow treats in her mouth, started to choke and had a mini vomit-fest right there in the doorway. Methinks she might be a little too young for this trickin' malarky. Finch tagged along too, so I really was chancing my luck.

I felt a little disappointed by the amount of people who wouldn't open their doors. It really doesn't matter if you have no candy, just open up your door, ask the kids what they are dressed up as and tell them they look great. That's all it takes.

Anyway, the whole day turned out to be a bit of a downer. After spending at least three evenings toiling away making the costumes until 1 am, we wore them for a maximum of 30 minutes and were seen by about 5 people. If I had gotten them made one day earlier we would have stole the show at the fancy dress contest in the town hall which was awash with only store bought costumes. Ah well, there is always next year.

They did make pretty cute owls though :o)

Ode to the Apartment

2010-11-03T18:57:00.005-03:00

8 months pregnant at the University of Ulster art show.

Only 6 months. That's all this little place has given shelter to our sleepy heads. It was always meant to be temporary. I've hung pictures and done my best to make it homely and it has served us well. but it has felt transitory and i'm ready for something more permanent. A garden to play in so we won't feel cooped up. A table to eat at, instead of dinner time spent with me leaning over the ktichen counter whilst molly kicks about in her antilop.

Pre-apartment and post-Canada I'd spent a few months intermittently living at my Dad's abode. Intermittently, considering there was an interval of a few weeks I was sleeping on the floor at a friends apartment which served as my refuge when father/daughter relations became strained. Sharing the same roof seven years after I'd left for my university dorm came as a bit of an unwelcome shock for both of us.

I had almost written off the significance of this apartment until I started to remember those pre-apartment days. It's only in looking back to those days that I realise how far I've come. Days when I could barely look at molly without feeling awash with fear and dread of my future. Days, and even weeks, when I didn't looked at Molly at all. I shudder to think of the distance I put between us back then. And I feel like I was robbed of the joy of motherhood for that period.

I filled my afternoons with long car journeys through the back country roads, where I'd hold raging imaginary arguments, yelling at the window shield and thumping my fist off the steering wheel. And the evenings were so long, at first filled with frantic and desperate phone calls followed by tightly bound rocking fetal positions(which isn't easy to do when you have an actual 6 month old fetus inside!). Then It became just about filling time, somehow, distracting myself from the unraveling that was going on around me. I was looking through photos with my not-so-wicked-stepmum when I found this one of me sewing for a craft fair. She accurately commented that "they where long and difficult nights". They were.

But the emphasis is on the were. This is my epiphany. Already, I am able to look back and see I have come a great distance in a very short space of time.

Somewhere along the way a corner was turned. And having a place just for me and moll was a big part of that. A place where I could no longer shirk my parental responsibilities. Where we could begin the work of undoing the damage done in those previous months, the distance i'd put between us. I needed to learn how to relate to her again, under these new terms, the 'sole parent' terms. Slowly I have gained in confidence and now It is only occasionally that I mutter 'I can't do this' under my breath. Because I am gradually learning that I can, many days it's simply that I must. 'Needs must' and all that. sometimes however, there are moments when everything is just perfect and my sole parent status is...preferential.

Recently I was given the task of drawing myself a lifeline and marking significant events along the way. Naturally, most of the marks on the line occurred within the last five years. But it dawned on me that ten years down the line, this era in my life will most likely become summarised by just one little notch. Trauma fades, time heals and someday i'll get a better perspective on this time.

6 months is not very long but it has provided a bridge from one precipice to another. So thank you little apartment.

** Still waiting on getting keys to the new house, there's a bit of a technical difficulty on the sellers side but I should hopefully have keys v.v.soon**

Overwhelmed.

2010-10-23T09:47:00.004-03:00

Folks, I am....trying to find a dramatic enough word to describe how tired I am. How busy. How overwhelmed. I'm moving at the end of the month. there is packing to be done, moving, painting. Molly has chosen to become inexplicably clingy to me and it makes parenting doubly exhausting. And Finch? well he's just the boy who doesn't like to be set down. Ever. He'll be four months soon and I still haven't got a full nights sleep. I know that's to be expected but it doesn't make me any less sleepy.

What's the worst, is that I've become one of those people who always talks about how busy they are, how tired, how they never have time for themselves. I've always hated people like me. Oops.

And when I do get a window to sit and breathe, I find myself just looking at the clock, counting down to when I have to return to my reality. I am a single mother of two children under two. I'm so tired that I feel pissed at everybody, I'm slowly developing a crater on my shoulder because It feels like everyone has it easier than me. Deep down, I know that if we were to truly see everybody's lot in life we'd pick our own every time. But what I know and how I feel are very different.

Rant Over.

Checking In.

2010-10-13T18:31:00.005-03:00

There are so many things I want to write about, but alas, I'm having trouble finding time to write. So for now, here is a little photo tour of what we've been up to, please excuse the poor quality of photos, I haven't been able to locate my camera lately (it's probably buried under one of the many mountains of mess building up around me). Thus, these photos are mostly taken with friends Iphones which I frequently hijack.

This perfectly encapsulates the essence of Mr Finch. He is one seriously happy and giggly boy

I recently partook in a little evening with friends which involved some outdoor cinema. It was a magical evening of tasty food, twinkly tea lights, a full moon, and a crackling fire pit. We dragged the sofas outside and got cosy under blankets whilst watching So I Married an Axe Murderer and High Fidelity projected onto the side of a very pretty farmhouse.

Molly and Finch sport their matching pj's. I've never been a big fan of dressing siblings alike. But pj's are different and it's not so tacky considering they are opposing genders.

Molly had her first trip to the zoo. There was a lot of 'wowwww's that day.

...an attempt at a family photo and how I spend a lot of time these days, balancing them both on a knee each. They get along so well, I can barely believe it.

This is where Finch spends a lot of his waking time. I'm probably instilling a bit of a bad habit, he might turn out to be a very clingy toddler after being carried everywhere as a babe. There is rarely a day we don't go out for a walk.

Molly is getting to the age where she can enjoy crafts *excitedly clapping hands!*. Egg box cartons and yogurt pots are at the ready.

Pecha Kucha

2010-10-07T19:50:00.003-03:00

So just recently I did a spot of public speaking. To say I was nervous about this would be a bit of an understatement. Pre-speaking anxiety resulted in more than a few nights of interrupted sleep (never mind Mr Finch's night feeds) and one little occasion of rocking back and forth repeating 'I can't do this'. My dread was partly due to the sheer lack of 'me' time I was getting to prepare, but mostly because public speaking turns my knees to jelly and makes my mouth feel like I've been eating fists full of sand. Opinionated - I am, Outspoken - that's me. But throw in some lights, a crowd and a microphone and I'm a mess.

That being said, I survived.

The platform was Pecha Kucha Night in Belfast and the theme was 'Curiosity'. My speech was pretty disjointed and covered three different curious areas:

+ I spoke a little bit on how the process of knitting/sewing had awoke my curiosity in the creative process behind manmade items which hence resulted in my greater appreciation for craftsmanship.

+ Then I lapsed into a little nostalgic rant on how we should really look at things upside down more, Including The World. It really is quite curious.

+ Finally, I closed by distributing my belief that perhaps social networking isn't just sheer 'nosiness' in each others lives but can be a valid tool for healthy curiosity and genuine sharing. Because if

...'Our Greatest Fear and Greatest Desire is to be Known'

...then the fulfillment of our greatest desire depends upon the curiosity of others. Oui, Oui?

Round of applause, thank ya very much. It was a fun experience and It was nice to feel a little bit proud of myself for 'facing my fears' and all that. Altogether, a great night out, the other speakers were both interesting and funny and it's a quirky way to get to know other creatives in your area, kinda like grown up show and tell.

Sneak Peek

2010-09-28T19:22:00.003-03:00

Just a few photies from my soon to be home. They aren't the best photos, I felt the watchful eye of the estate agent as I was taking them.

This carpet has gotta go.

+++

2010-09-14T08:36:00.005-03:00

Remember the 'granny chic' house I was lusting after? Well, there is a sold sign up and I will soon be the proud owner of all it's vintage charm. I cannot wait to get painting and start hanging pictures. Should be at least another month till we three are calling it home.

Here's little snap of me enjoying a weekend away with friends (and Mr Finch). My new Primark booties haven't been off me since I got them last month. Here they be teamed with a vintage shirt and some high waisted jeans.

And Ms Mini Magee seems to be following suit with her love of fashion. This little lady knows how to don her garb in style. I promise you this is not a staged photo, the shades and bag combo were completely of her own making:

I've been desperately trying to find the time to do some crafti-work lately. Last month I made my Pops a laptop case for his birthday and I'm hoping to make a few more of these beauts for my Etsy shop (remember the days when I had a Etsy shop? I barely do).

That is if I ever manage to detach myself from Finchums, even now I am one handed typing whilst feeding him. Normally the evenings would be my most productive time as Moll would be down for the night. But baby brother seems to like to party on down at night. So 'Me Time' has been postponed till 10pm every evening, when I am much more inclined to crash out in front of the tv than toil away at my sewing machine. Still I will find a way somehow...

My Own Shining Armour

2010-09-04T18:30:00.004-03:00

Being single again means I am again feeling the pressure society puts on us all to couple up. I do the best I can to dismiss this pressure. I tell myself at least a handful of times each day that I must learn to be happy alone, that I can't just spend my days waiting for someone to make me happy, I must find happiness within. And I'm getting there, somedays, sometimes.

Besides, knights in shining armour do not exist. I know that now.

So I dress myself in my own armour. Made up with the mantras of modern day womanhood

who needs a man anyway

enforced with a (debatably) healthy dose of cynicism

they just cheat

and then for maximum self defense I build a bullet proof vest of self doubt

at least they do on me

From behind my shield I whisper.... When will I just be held again?....Kissed?

When will I offload my armour, strip off the 'Mum' costume I sport everyday and just be figuratively (and literally) naked and yet not alone.

Ever?

I pay lip service to the advantages of singledom. I tell myself this is just the way I want it.

But really

When lovers kiss in movies

I look away.

Birthing Finch

2010-08-16T12:57:00.009-03:00

Disclaimer!! This is long and gory. Don't say I didn't warn you.

If the world was filled with rainbows, unicorns and candy floss fountains I would have birthed my son with his father, my husband and supposed best friend, by my side. But alas the world is most definitely not filled with rainbows, unicorns and candy floss fountains. It is however filled with amazingly strong and supportive people, my not-so-wicked-stepmother, Noreen, being one of them. I could not have survived the last 6 months without this woman, she is an absolute Godsend. I have thrown a lot her way, including tears, moodiness, untidiness and even the occasional vomiting session. She came with me to Canada for those horrible 10 days back in February when I had to pack up and clean out my house for sale. And of course she has time and time again taken care of molly when it's all been too much for me.

Noreen, proud granny

However, I had held Noreen at arms length when it came to the whole birthing partner issue. This was mostly due to sheer stubbornness on my part. I think I partly felt giving birth 'alone' ( without a birthing partner) would have further shamed 'him' for his absence. I also think I wanted to come out being able to declare 'I did it all alone, look at how strong and stoical I am, I won't let the bastard(s) grind me down'. Most of all though, I was just being a drama queen. So I told noreen I'd like her be in the general vicinity during labour but probably not in the room. Once the time arrived however, I didn't let her out of my sight and so she had front row tickets for the whole occasion.

As I was saying, the world is filled with amazingly strong and supportive people. Another individual I include in this category is my kick ass midwife Kathy. I already knew Kathy, In what seems like a previous life she had encountered "us" through churchy connections. She was able to get me onto her special caseload, meaning I would have continuity of care through the pregnancy and delivery. It was extremely helpful to have someone caring for me who had a little more than head knowledge of my situation. She knew 'him', knew us, knew how out of character his recent choices where and therefore knew how all the more traumatic it was on me.

Kathy and Finch

And so it was these two brave and admirable women I took as my captive carers into the land of labour.

I was scheduled for induction at 8am. Nervousness incarnate can be found in the Royal Victoria hospital, maternity section at 8am every morning - 'induction time'. There were petrified faces everywhere, petrified and utterly fed up. And then of course there were the nervous husbands. I think having your husband/partner there means you can project a lot of your fear onto them. This time around I actually felt stronger due to the fact that I didn't have 'him' to fall apart in front of. Instead I was keeping it together. And when we all got ushered into the elevator and handed our files I even attempted to make loud 'ice-breaky' type jokes about how it was like exam time in high school. No one else laughed, but I thought I was funny.

I had assumed the induction would be a long drawn out process. I was induced with Molly (albeit 5 weeks early) and it took 4 applications of the gel, which needed to be applied 6 hours apart. long. drawn. out. process. This time around long and drawn out was not part of the equation. At 9am I got my first gel. I'd come equipped with a box set of The West Wing with me and was quite prepared to be watching the entire season that day. But by 11am I was already requesting pain killers so to ease the already achey contractions, happening 5 minutes apart.

It was around this time that I made a little playlist on spotify titled 'waiting for finch'. At this point you could have peeked behind the curtain to find an enormously pregnant woman (yours truly) having a little boogie all by herself to 'you can call me al' by Paul Simon.

Soon enough the contractions started to get particularly achey and I was longing for a hot water bottle. I recalled a trusty tip I'd heard from someone somewhere and ran one of the newborn diapers under hot water and applied it to my belly. I highly recommend these makeshift diaper heat packs during labour. I even made another one the night after the labour when I was getting after pains. (*the secret is that the gel in the diapers locks in the moisture and heat, much more effectively than a hot flannel*).

Me and my infamous addiction to diet coke

Me an noreen determined to watch an episode of The West Wing, whilst I rolled about on the birthing ball, huffing and puffing. We got about half way through and it all just became too distracting to concentrate on Aaron Sorkin's masterful dialogue.

At around 2:30 kathy, appeared in the doorway, took one look at me and announced 'goodness me that child's in labour!' It was reassuring to see my increasing discomfort was becoming so visibly apparent. Kathy handed me the gas and air (nitric oxide) and promptly starting filling the birthing pool in the room next door . The nitric oxide had me at hello. A few minutes from my first breath and I was staring intently at the face mask with hearts in my eyes, declaring aloud 'you. are. my. friend.' There were a few times when the mask accidently got disconnected from the rest of the equipment right in the middle of a contraction and the sheer fear in my eyes was comical.

My plan with the birthing pool was to stick it out in there as long as I felt comfortable and consider an epidural if and when it got too much. In hindsight, I'm glad I was so naive about how fast things were proceeding. Panic probably would have set in much earlier had I realised that by getting into the pool I was committing myself to a pain relief free labour. So instead of feeling nervous and serious about what I was doing when I dipped my toes in the pool, I was giggling like a school girl and telling everyone 'this is great, I feel like I'm on my holidays!!'. A trainee midwife stuck her head through the door and politely asked if I'd mind if she stayed in and assisted in her first water birth. By this time my inhibitions were entirely compromised and I was all 'suuuuuuurrreee come on in! everyyybodyyy, come join the party!!'

Five minutes later

'oh I didn't like that one'

another five minutes later

'I don't think I want another one like that. Kathy, am I gonna have another one of those?'

From this point on, with each contraction I became more fearful about what was ahead of me. My good old buddy, nitric oxide, had lured me into a false sense of security and tricked me into this pool with no other pain relief available and now she just wasn't taking the edge off anymore. oh, craaap.

Kathy told me that soon enough I'd be feeling pressure in my bum whenever the contraction came, when that happened it was time to push. The first time I felt the pressure I didn't even tell anyone, I hoped if I ignored it, it might just go away and i'd wake up from this like it was just a bad dream. Next time I couldn't ignore it and so the pushing began. Oh hell, I hated the pushing.

I couldn't breath through the mask and push at the same time so the gas and air became obsolete, but no one could have pried that mask from my grip, no matter how many times it was suggested, i'd open one eye, give them a dirty look and snap out 'NO!'.

The pushing took around 45 minutes. The whole time I was leaning with my back against the side of the pool despite the fact that I'd heard a million times that labour was much easier when you were off your back and either on all fours or squatting. But the pain had me pretty much paralyzed in that one position. Kathy recommended I turned over onto my knees, again, poor kathy received another dirty look and 'NO!'. it was around this time I opened both eyes, looked across at Kathy and the trainee midwife and said in a low, aggressive growl 'I don't know why you people would want to do this job'. It turns out delivering a baby brings out my inner bitch.

I find it difficult to access the correct words to describe this next part. The pain brought out such a primal fear in me. It was pretty distressing to know there was no turning back. This baby just had to come out of me, the painful and exhausting way. I kept whimpering 'i'm frightened', 'someone help me' , 'get him out, please just take him out'.

About half way through the pushing I looked down and saw a bulge coming out of me (sorry, i did warn you it was gonna get gory!). I assumed this was the head and my spirits lifted, I said 'I can see the head, he's nearly out!!'. To my disappointment, and confusement, Kathy explained that it was the membranes, his head was crowning but my waters still hadn't broken. this is very unusual and apparently in some cultures it's considered very lucky. The most impressive thing was that Mr bump (soon to be Mr Finch) was protected from the Strep B infection right until the last few seconds. Kathy told me that this was really good and was protecting my baby, to which my response was 'I don't care, he's hurting me just get him out of me'. I know...i'm awful. I was begging and pleading Kathy to get rid of the membrane as I could feel it was making the pushing harder. Afterwards Kathy explained that breaking the waters would have made things go quicker but only by about five minutes. At the time though, five minutes was not just any old five minutes, It felt like an eternity in excruciating pain.

I'd love to say that I had some sort of inspirational mantra or visualisation that got me through the pain. But I really didn't. my inner monologue was much more defeatist in tone ' I can't do this / I can't believe I have to do this / oh someone please make it stop'. I wasn't much of a screamer through the pushing. I've heard that many people make a groaning noise that they find helps. As for me, there were just a few times I threw out an angry yell at the top of my voice during a push. But Kathy quickly scolded me for wasting my energy on my voice. There are a few things that I recall to memory and shudder with a little embarrassment, like I remember going cross eyed with the effort of pushing (this mostly just makes me laugh) and I can remember repeating aloud "i'm frigh-tened" in a childlike whiney voice.

After a long time of pushing and feeling like I wasn't getting anywhere, I managed to let the team of ladies persuade me to change position. I flipped over onto my knees and gripped onto the edge of the pool for dear life. Here comes the part where I learnt my lesson and I advise you all to listen to your midwives and take their advice much faster than I did, because the very next push and POP out came the waters and out came the head. I felt everything.

I'd watched enough birthing videos to know that the next part was pretty easy so I gave a big sigh of relief. I'd also watched enough birthing videos to know that with a water birth, the baby can stay under water for a good period of time, it may look like they are drowning but they are still attached to the placenta and it's the same as if they were still inside. Noreen however didn't know this. So I'm all chilled and calm waiting for the next contraction to come along and get this baby well and truly out whilst Noreen fell deathly silent thinking the baby was drowning under the water. So waterbirth 101 - drowning isn't usually an issue.

Along came another contraction and tada, I flipped back onto my back again and was holding....MY SON in my arms. Amazing. Unbelievable. We've came along way little man and we made it.

After a few minutes of enjoying the snuggle time I started to feel more and more aware of how freaking sore I was. I made my way onto the bed and we waited for a doctor to come check out what the damage was. This was when Mr Finch latched on for the first time and boy did he latch. Molly was preemie and had a bit of a hard time figuring out how to latch. Finch was the other extreme, the 'oh my word did I just give birth to a baby vampire' kind of extreme. I'd like to mention, the breast feeding support I received here in the UK was abysmal. It seems that all the 'breast is best' posters is really just lip service.

Along came the stitches. I said I didn't yell out much for the pushing. It seems I was storing up all the yelling for the dreaded freaking stitches. Because this was a second pregnancy, I had naievely assumed that I was just gonna sneeze this baby out, do some lunges and walk home with a 'slight graze'. SO. NOT. THE. CASE. The doctor offered a 'spinal' for the stitches (they had to double check I hadn't actually tore all the way through - thankfully I hadn't but it was bad enough that they had to double check). I refused the spinal saying 'eh - I just gave birth pain relief free, I can handle a few stitches' and instead opted for a localised numbing injection, and of course my old buddy nitric oxide returned to the scene. As soon as the Doc started working away at me I became pretty unhappy and started to inhale the gas and air very quickly, which then made me feel extremely trippy and very, very emotional. At one point I cried out 'he looks like his daddy....the hard part isn't over'. I yelled, I wailed, I had a tight hold of all three women and pulled them right up in my face so I could cry right into their faces. Meanwhile In the back of my head I was panicking that the doctor would do a rushed job on my stitches and screw things up so I kept telling him 'just you take your time, I just need to cry and yell, it's not really about the stitches'. but they did hurt. a lot. and the 20 minutes he took to repair me seemed to last a lot longer.

I don't really have a very clear memory of the next few hours. But it wasn't long before I found myself In a hospital ward, left alone with my son and a whole night of cluster feeding ahead of me. It seems a little unfair that you have to stay up all night feeding your baby after you've just done the hardest physical work you'll ever do. But it was amazing to just look at him, my son. I have a son.

Lots of people have asked me what feels different about having a son to having a daughter. When Molly was born, it wasn't long before I started panicking about the fights we'd have when she was a teenager. It is my understanding and experience that mothers and daughters have turbulent relationships. We woman know our minds, we know how we like things and we don't like it when others think they know better. Mothers and daughters need to develop a mutual appreciation of each other. I need to like molly just as much as I love her.

When I look at my son, I feel struck by the feeling that he is going to need me. I imagine him a lot more helpless than I ever did with Molly. I don't mean to diminish his abilities before he has even set out on life, but I can just imagine all the guidance and snuggles he will need as he tries to figure out the world. With Molly, i'll be lucky to get in a few suggestions and some high fives.

Although, I have a funny feeling this little man has a lot to teach me too. Redeeming my perception of the male gender for one. Looking at him with his genetic links to the man who has hurt me so brutally and knowing that, just like his sister, he will no doubt have similar traits, tastes, skills and no doubt, misgivings. It keeps my heart from icing over, from giving into hatred. I must make room for grace and generosity for the man who contributed to the making of this little wonder.

And a wonder he is

'Im gonna take care of you mummy'

I'm Right Where I'm Supposed To Be

2010-07-31T19:36:00.005-03:00

A few days before I went in for induction I wrote this on a piece of paper and stuck it on my mirror. It's come in handy over the last few weeks, whenever I feel overwhelmed and want to scream, cry, rock back and forth, run away... I catch a glimpse of this and am comforted by the assurance that:

I'm still working on my birthing story post. Let me warn you, It's becoming longer and longer. I want to remember everything so I'm gleaning every single detail from my memory and recording it.

Until then, here's a picture of me and the man of the house

And this is an accurate depiction of family life. Notice Molly taking a tantrum on the ground, my fake smile and the fact that Finch's head looks like it's about to roll off! Good times, good times.

The Meaning of Finch...

2010-07-20T20:46:00.001-03:00

When I returned to Ireland in January I was in a state of desperation and clutching at anything to fix my marriage. I'd made the 25 hour journey back with Molly as my home had become 'emotionally unsafe'. I had spent two weeks sitting next to a man who couldn't decide wether to discard me like an old pair of socks or cling to me and beg me to save him from himself. I was constantly looking at him sideways and asking him if he was ok, literally motioning a thumbs up signal with a questioning look! What I was really asking was 'right now, in this second, am I in or out? Am I a keeper or not?'.

When I arrived in Ireland I begged my family and friends not to hate him, I pleaded with them to see that he was 'not himself' that he was ill and needed help. I was contacting my doctor and inquiring about how to have him admitted for psychiatric care. I frantically text messaged friends and family with prayer requests and organised a day of fasting on behalf of my marriage. I met with his closest and oldest friends and spilled out every detail of our marriage in the hope that they could help somehow. It actually resulted in one particular guy flying over to spend a week with him. A week where we all sat waiting to hear a positive sign that things were improving. But there was nothing positive to report. The more he talked, the more resolute he became.

After a month I had clutched at all my straws and exhausted every last effort. I was deflated and bereft of hope.

Hope?

What could that word mean to me now? I thought i'd been so desperately hoping that whole time, doing all I could, anything at all, to repair things.

But I have learnt and am continually learning that hope is not an action, not a task that I can execute. It is not a phonecall, an email, a late night vigil at old make-out points to offer up some sort of sacrifice. And hope, does not stick to an agenda.

Hope is the thing with feathers,

that perches in the soul

and sings the tune without the words

and never stops at all....

I had run out of all ideas and had no words left. But there was still a tune to be sung. Not by me, but by the little bird in my soul. In february I had a scan and learnt that the child living inside me was to be a son. That afternoon was particularly traumatic, a story for another time perhaps. A few days later I found myself wandering through Belfast seeking out the perfect little bird necklace. I wanted something to carry around to remind me of the Emily Dickinson poem which had became my personal mantra.

Something I could look at and visualise the little bird who kept on singing even when I didn't know what to hope for anymore, but whose tune kept me getting out of bed every day, kept me eating, kept me alive.

I was looking at a pendant of a little swallow in flight when It suddenly dawned on me. The name we had chosen if Molly was to be a boy was Finch. The name had been drawn from To Kill a Mocking Bird's protagonist, the most admirable Atticus Finch. A noble man fighting against the odds for justice. That afternoon as I stood looking at the depiction of a bird in flight I felt so struck by the avian significance of the name Finch.

Finch - the little bird, living within me, my hope. I no longer needed a necklace. I had the approaching due date instead. Hope was growing inside me and someday I would give birth to my hope.

And I did....

He will forever be a reminder to me that life does not follow an agenda and sometimes we don't even know what to hope for. But we are stronger than we know we are and there is beauty around the corner we could not have dreamt of.

Sometimes in the form of snuggly, sleepy, magical, newborns.

Thank you Mr Finch.

*** The top picture is a beautiful painting my wonderful friends in Canada had commissioned for me when I told them of the significance behind my chosen name! so beautiful! ***

Introducing Finch Steen Magee

2010-07-16T16:01:00.003-03:00

8.6lbs of sheer perfection and delivered in a birthing pool PAIN RELIEF FREE! Birthing story and a little insight into his name to follow. Just give us a little chance, we are still in hospital for another 24 hours.

Dear Mr Bump,

2010-07-12T19:44:00.003-03:00

I'm trying to be patient and all, but I'd really like to meet you soon. You have a lot of people waiting who love you and are looking forward to snuggling with you. Including your beautiful big sister who will just adore playing with you (though it may take a little while for her to master this art - you'll be pretty small and sleepy and even a little grumpy at the start).

Maybe you've heard a lot of unhappy noises over the last 6 months, crying, shouting and such, but please don't let that taint your view on the great big world. Life is beautiful and quite the adventure.

So come on out and greet us, we aren't scary.

Love you,

Mum-ee.

Wartime Charm

2010-07-11T20:37:00.003-03:00

I've kind of fallen in love with a beautiful little wartime era house up for sale 30 seconds from my folks front door. Complete with high ceilings, picture rail, old tiled fireplaces, retrotastic light features and the garden has a little apple tree (perfect for a tire swing), a blackcurrent bush and rhubarb patch!

Be still my beating heart.

Of course, I haven't even seen inside and I probably can't afford it (the house in Canada sold with relative ease, I still can't bring myself to think about it much). Anyway, tonight I am feeling excitable and unable to sleep. Excitable, even though I had my 3rd unsuccessful cervical sweep today and found out I have a Strep B infection that I could pass on to Mr Bump when he chooses to grace us all with his presence. Hence I will need to have an IV of antibiotics during labour and stay in hospital for 48 hours prior to delivery. Well, the news could have been worse and I have 5 more days till induction date (16th). It's only a matter of time now.

**amendment, I actually think it was my 4th sweep. 4th!**

Here are some lovely things:

littleblackfences

annafraser

Joettamaue

Away

2010-07-07T12:01:00.005-03:00

Found in The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

"Come" she says looking up at me and holding up her hand.

It's one of the clearest words she says, I couldn't quite believe she was saying it at first because it was so clear, it wasn't in toddler dialect, there were no subtitles needed, just plain and simple "come!". She always says it with bright eyes, like she has a great idea and she wants me to be part of it. An invitation that's impossible to refuse.

There never seems to be any clear purpose in where we are going. I imagine if she could she would tell me 'the destination isn't the point mummy!'. She loves to run. Loves it. In any direction, so long as it's 'away'.

After a while of her guiding me I attempt to subtly take over and guide her back in the direction of the stroller or, more urgently, away from the road. She'll go along with it for a few steps and then she clues in, thrashes her arm about in an effort to release her hand from my tightening grasp and squeals for freedom.

We are standing in an expansive field, recently mown. I'm feeling very proud of myself for taking her here instead of the park, for adapting to her need to run and roam freely.

"come on!" I say with a big (and slightly desperate) smile, encouraging her to expend her energy in the wide open space before her. I skip towards the middle and do a twirl with arms stretched out wide. She pauses and looks at me suspiciously, "nu" (subtitles : no) she says shaking her head and waging her finger. She turns around and heads towards the small opening in the field, towards the road, the one place she can't go.

Tantrums ensue, eventually I pull the heavy gate over the opening and stand in the middle of the field with a banana as bate. This results in her climbing half way up the gate and shaking it screaming like a tiny enraged prisoner.

*Sigh*, why is the forbidden always so enticing? I hang my shoulders and accept defeat. I couldn't convince her father that staying within the perimeters was...better, worth it, safer, appealing... how do I teach her?

There are many times within every day that I want to run, anywhere, so long as it's away. I joked with a friend the other day that if I could cryogenically freeze my children I would throw a backpack on my back and go see South America for 6 months. But I can't. I must stay away from the road, colour within the lines. And I must tell myself on the bad days, that the grass is greenest where I am.

I've been staring around the room for the last hour trying to figure out how to finish this post. Then I noticed the little tiny handprints on the tv screen, the ones I haven't had the heart to wipe off because they warm my heart. Being here, not running but staying here in the moment with her, it makes the grass the brightest green. She will only be this little once, I don't want to miss it. I was scrolling through old journals the other night, many entries, filled with a hope that seems like it was a waste in the end. But I found this little doodle I did when molly was a squishy little newborn and filled with the awe of motherhood.

It is an honour and a privilege to be in her presence. So I'm sticking around and I'll be standing nearby whenever she holds up her hand and asks me to come with her on her latest adventure.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Mr Bump Update** Warning, not for those that don't want to know about cervix's and the like.

Mr Bump has still not made an appearance, I'm now one day overdue. I've had two cervical sweeps, 3 reflexology sessions, a billions baths, hundreds of cups of raspberry leaf tea, two 3 star curries and a lot of bouncing on the birthing ball. I was 3cm dilated on monday and a few days before that I thought i'd passed my mucus plug but, as of 10 minutes ago i'm thinking that was just a leetle bebe plug because I just passed the mother of all plugs! So here is hoping contractions will kick in very soon.

I'm ready to meet you mr bump!

2010-07-01T21:35:00.005-03:00

So I made it through the 1st of July 2010. My 5th wedding anniversary. And I was ok. I woke up consumed and miserable. But I went about my day distracting myself with getting the last few things ready for the pending delivery. This morning I had a cry over my cereal, I found myself saying out loud "we didn't even make it to five years!". I wondered about posting up a wedding photo but I thought that might be a tad too self indulgent.

I have high hopes for going into labour soon (PLEASE !). July 2nd is the crossover date for mr bump to be the oldest in his year rather than the youngest so I'm very pleased with that. Well done mr bump, now HURRY UP, because I am so freaking uncomfortable and sore! I'm getting a nice wee cervical sweep in the morning. I'm a little scared but thankfully my body is too concerned with the idea of not being pregnant to care about what pain I might have to go through to get to that state.

Thank you all for the comments. I find it astounding that you are all out there reading and caring about my little life. Astounding and affirming. Cheers.

I do look forward to being able to post a few trivial little outfit posts in the future. I have been keeping myself alarmingly busy these last few weeks. A particularly fun evening was spent at the advent of Pecha Kucha Night in Belfast. Met some really interesting people and got to cheer on some friends too. If there is a Pecha Kucha in your city, I strongly encourage you to attend. Here is a little explanation as to what exactly it is.

I'm a little stuck to know what photo to post so here is just a wee snapshot of a fun night out for dinner with some top ladies. It's now 2am and I feel quite sick at the thought of being awoke by a hungry toddler in the morning (nevermind the cervical sweep) so g'night!

27

2010-06-27T18:53:00.005-03:00

I am watching the minutes tick down till I turn 27 years old.

18 minutes.

I'm searching for some significance in the number 27....I was born 27 years ago. I have lived 27 years.

17 minutes.

I am ushering this new year in alone. There is a couple in the house opposite me snuggling and watching tv.

16 minutes.

My daughter is asleep in the room next to me. My son is inside my stomach, kicking at my ribs. Maybe that isn't alone. To be honest though, it doesn't feel like enough.

15 minutes.

I'm listening to sad music because I want to be able to contemplate this moment, not sure what I'm looking for.

14 minutes.

I'm thinking about how I feel about myself. I'm proud of myself for many things lately:

(for example, last night I camped in the mountains, with my 18 month old daughter and 8 days till

my son is due, I think that's quite an achievement)

I am in shock that I have survived the last 6 months of my life.

13 minutes.

I'm trying to remember my last birthday. I can't remember anything about it. Maybe that's a good thing.

12 minutes.

Time has started to feel like a series of hurdles I have to jump over. How many more days, months, years, till I can live in my moment again?

11 minutes.

How many more leaps till I feel 'over it'.

10 minutes.

There is little, if anything, from my past that I can recall without feeling so desperately sad. Because it all happened with a feeling of continuity. Then things so abruptly stopped. With no warning

9 minutes.

I need new memories, new hopes, new dreams.

8 minutes.

7 minutes.

Do we start out with blissfully naive ideas about life and with time we learn not to have such high hopes? Or has life been dandy and then bam, a sudden dip?? I don't really have perspective on that at the moment.

6 minutes.

I don't know what to wish for when I blow the candles out.

5 minutes.

Honest to goodness, you know what I wished for for as long as I can remember. every. single. time. I had the opportunity to wish for anything?

4 minutes.

For true love. Really. As sentimental as it sounds it really is what I always wished for. I've never told anyone that before, because I was a little superstitious about telling wishes.

3 minutes.

But I'm not sure if I should wish for that anymore. I assumed that true love was permanent. I thought I'd found it. So I either wasn't truly loved or true love isn't (necessarily) permanent.

2 minutes.

I wish to be the best I can be.

1 minute.

The best mother, daughter, friend, sister, neighbour... To be the best that I can be to myself.

I am 27 years old and I wish that I am enough.

A Breach in Self Security.

2010-06-17T16:15:00.004-03:00

From the latest University of Ulster art show

There are so many things I wanted to say, but couldn't.

I can't be vulnerable with you and that hurts so much. You were always my person to run to when I felt vulnerable. When I was scared my friends were leaving me out, when I didn't like the way I looked, when I'd left my assignments to the last minute, again, when i thought i'd been cruel, when I found out my mum was dying....I was always running to you. Now you are the last person I can run to.

I wanted to tell you how desperately I missed you. How you are my best friend and I need my best friend. Every time I laugh, every time I cry, every time I'm bored, every time I see a movie, hear a song, hang a picture, go for a walk, every night when I get into bed, I miss you. But you can't be my refuge any longer, you are no longer safe. It's done.

I hate to see you sabotage yourself. Because I care about you and, dare I say it, Because I love you. I used to lie on your chest, listening to your heart beat and worry for how fragile you sounded. To think that your existence, would vanish if that heartbeat stopped, or at least it would to me. I remember sitting with you, squeezing your leg when you got a tooth pulled out. I saw the bright red blood trickle down your chin and it made me ache to think of your blood being spilt. the vulnerability, the fragility, of you.

Yes, it makes me furious to see you walk out on our children. But it also makes me so painfully sad, for YOUR sake. You were born to be a daddy. And you loved it, it brought you so much joy. You frequently referred to it as 'the best thing in the world'. Now the thought of them must hurt, to see a photo of our molly - it must be agony.

Of course I want her to be able to run into her daddy's arms, but I also want YOU to be able to hold your daughter. To giggle with her, to tickle her till she's sick, to teach her amazing things about blades of grass, to gaze at the stars with her. I want you to be able to hold your newborn son in your arms and beam with pride. Instead you'll be seeing a photo on the internet, you'll be one spectator in a crowd, and you'll feel sadness. That's not the way it should be.

I wish I could save you from yourself. I think, if I could, I'd stand in front of a bus to stop you, I would.

febrile convulsions

2010-06-16T21:41:00.003-03:00

so today molly had a seizure. it was completely terrifying. i had my first ever ride in an ambulance. not something i ever hope to repeat.

it's called a "febrile convulsion" and is apparently quite common. she's staying overnight in hospital and should be discharged tomorrow.

i got a phone call from canada, her father. first i've heard from him in around 5 months. i think today really made me realise how much of a single parent i am. i see now his parenting role in molly's life is always going to be... inadequate. I really missed having a someone to cling to today.

The postman came bearing gifts

2010-06-09T19:10:00.007-03:00

I'd like to boast about these two lovely surprise treats I received in the post lately. I never ever get personal mail so it's been v.special. First came the beautiful watercolour from the unbelievably talented Tina Newlove. I met Tina briefly when she was touring with Tribe of One and loved watching her paint whilst Mr Rik Leaf resounded some poetry and song.

It is so beautiful and came with a lovely note saying:

I hope you enjoy this little watercolour. She's a bit sad but so pretty. And I'm sure things will be looking up for her soon.

This was so sweet and gives me a big smile every time I see my sad little clown.

Then, came my pretty New Leaf Necklace from Alaina. I've worn it every day since I got it and it's a constant reminder of the other mums out there standing with me and trying to figure out parenting solo style. Rising up under the day to day pressures and not being shot down by the stigma.

On that note, I would love to ask a question to those who've already seen the new SATC movie. There is a scene with Miranda and Charlotte talking about how hard motherhood is. At the end of the scene one shouts out something like "and I do this with a husband and full time help, how do women do it without those safety nets?" the other says "I have no f***ing idea". End Scene.

I wanna know how did this dialogue make you feel? A friend today was telling me how much it annoyed her to see them complaining despite all the support they had. And it angered her to think of how I would feel listening to the two spoilt ladies rant and rage.

On the other hand, I actually felt quite affirmed by that scene in the movie. I almost forgot all my repressed, white, irishness and yelled out an "AMEN" right there in the cinema. Parenting is really hard work, no matter what way you do it, but I am glad that they tipped there hat to those who do it alone.

2010-05-31T16:21:00.005-03:00

I am so cream crackerd!

The House

There is cous-cous on the bathroom floor, wheetabix stuck into the kitchen walls, crayon on the bedroom wall, the fridge is crying out to be purged of out of date food, the garbage needs taken out, laundry needs done, pots and pans need washed and I still haven't unpacked boxes after moving in nearly a month ago. I also have bills that need my attention and forms that need filled in.

The Pregnancy

My ribs are killing me, I feel like I can't take a decent deep breath and every time I get into bed I can hardly catch my breath. My pelvis is sore and for two days now I've had braxton hicks, which makes me feel like I'm continually doing crunches. This morning I did my weekly protein check on my pee and it showed up high, which meant a trip to the hospital to check my preeclampsia hadn't returned. False alarm - all is well, though I can't help but admit that I'm a little disappointed I'm not sure I can take another 5 weeks of this baby getting bigger and bigger! I'm so so so unbelievably tired.

The Toddler

I've pretty much lost the ability to chase her around the park now, so she is cooped up a lot more. I'm trying to get her used to feeding herself with a spoon (to make mealtimes a little easier on me), which isn't going well, hence the wheetabix on the walls.

She's started taking major tantrums with me when I'm changing her diaper/nappy, kicking me in the belly repeatedly, it usually results in us hugging each other, both in tears and exhausted from all the exertion.

UPDATE: it's now 4am and molly has been awake for hours, just kicking her crib and making noise. when i go into her she smiles and giggles, there is nothing wrong with her. i'm so flipping tired and pissed off! feck feck feck, i took myself to bed early tonight/last night and ordered myself i would wake up in a good mood in the morning and be a good mum. now all i can think is how fecking pissed of i'm gonna be in a few hours when she's up for the day.

That's all really. Just cream crackerd. Thanks for letting me crumble. And here is a video of the little lady at a Bollywood Baby Rave this week, put on by Belfast's Children's Festival.

punching my pillows

2010-05-25T19:10:00.003-03:00

It wasn't the first time.

He'd wronged me before.

And I felt my heart ache. To watch the love I'd held so very dear fracture because of the shiny, new "trinket of temptation". To be overlooked, betrayed and manipulated by the one person in the world who was supposed to love, honour and cherish me.

It hurt so much then that I thought i'd been dealt my worst blow. I thought this could never happen again because this was enough pain for one person to bear.

Then I fell miraculously pregnant. We made a molly. We had a new direction. A hopeful little bundle of softness and giggles. We were finding our feet again and growing strong. I started to admire him again. To see my beautiful daughter sleep against her daddy's chest, melted my heart.

But along came another, shinier, newer. And apparently nothing else mattered.

This is the part where I'm swearing and punching my pillows.....

The Virgin Suicides Dress

2010-05-23T17:21:00.008-03:00

Ireland has been struck with some seriously gorgeous weather lately. Toddler + apartment + sunny day = cooped up, sweaty, cabin fever, so me and Molly jumped in the car today and set out in pursuit of a happy field to roam about in. We love the park and try to spend most weekday mornings toddling through there, feeding ducks, playing on the swings and chasing after blowing-bubbles.

But sometimes it can get a little exhausting chasing after my little running lady with the dangers of the river, the road and broken glass all about, especially when my body (33 weeks preggo) is crying out for as much rest as possible.

The solution? A freshly mown field! preferably animal and cow-pat free, lots of space for molly to run free yet with fences/hedges preventing her from disappearing out of my view.

I didn't really get the best photos of my dress but I felt it was time for me to post something a little lighter on this blog of mine. When I saw this dress in Value Village (oh how I miss thee value village!) I instantly thought of the infamous prom dress in Sofia Coppola's 'The Virgin Suicides'.

(My favourite thing about this movie is the soundtrack, I wrote all my uni essays whilst listening to Air)

Ze Dress blends in quite well with this seasons maxi dresses yet it's old and totally handmade. I like to think of the love and attention poured into it over the years, I imagine the occasions it may have been worn to; a rural dance? or perhaps it was an old school bridesmaid dress?

Over and out from Molly, Mr bump and Me.

Dear Pregnancy Hormones,

2010-05-19T15:30:00.006-03:00

You suck. You made me cry down the phone to the car insurance guy who told me I need to pay a small fortune because they've decided the won't consider my no claims bonus from Canada. And now it's my big night out to the movies with a friend and I've got stingy eyes.

There's too much fuel for your fire Mr Pregnancy Hormones. This time round I can't tell myself it's all in my head and I'm just being hormonal. This time round I can't just sit in bed all day knitting, reading and crying at tv shows. This time I have a little girl to run after, entertain, cuddle, dress, feed....

But I'm putting on a smiley face and going out anyway. I won't let you win.

Introducing the dreads

2010-05-18T10:18:00.002-03:00

This little girl likes to twirl her hair. She likes to twirl her hair so much that she gives herself big kick ass matts, 'dreads' if you will. 'Dreads' that eventually need cut out due to their very effective food storing skills. The other day I noticed she was twirling her hair with a good deal of frustration. When I looked closer I discovered she'd got her finger tightly bound in her hair and it was cutting off the circulation to her finger tip!! Mama came to the rescue.

Still there is nothing more beautiful than tucking her in at night, passing her her teddy (which she snuggles tightly with a little squeal of glee) and then the finger goes automatically to the little wisp of hair behind her ear as her eyes start to float back in her head.

I didn't expect plain sailing, but.....

2010-05-15T13:20:00.003-03:00

I've taken to watching tv till the moment I fall asleep. It keeps the bad thoughts away...as much as they can be kept away. Last night I was watching Jools Holland (a late night music show in the UK) and Tracey Thorn was on with this song:

There were tear stained tissues all around by the time she finished the song. Next came Crowded House singing 'Don't dream it's over'. I couldn't help but half laugh at the contrast. I've always loved 'Don't dream..' it's more the tone I always thought my love life would take, the 'yes it's hard but we are gonna make it through' tone. I never expected everything to always be rosy and plain sailing, but I thought that the essence of real romance was in the sticking it out and working through the storm together.... Instead Tracey Thorn's 'oh the divorces' fitted my life much better. Bleak, broken promises, shattered dreams and just plain sad.

It's Saturday night, Molly is being baby sat and I have nothing to do. My couple friends are doing couple things, my single friends are doing single things (remember, I'm 32 weeks pregnant, I'm not really ready to be part of the party). And I am left lingering in the middle and not really fitting in anywhere.

Sorry about the depressed whining. This blog will go back to being light hearted and happy someday. I do have hope for that.

finding comfort from others on my path.

2010-05-14T17:08:00.007-03:00

Since everything changed I've had a hard time relating with the usual blogs I used to frequent. Many of them were about family and motherhood, but in the more conventional "nuclear" sense. Now the sight of a glowing 2.4 family just makes me want to hurl. Some of the worst ones are the pictures you see in pregnancy magazines of the guy kissing the mother-to-be's growing belly, BLURGHHHHH. I recently passed on my favourite Nikki Mclure print to a friend who wont have to feel sad every time she sees this image.

What used to be comforting, inspiring and aspirational now intimidates and tortures me. On a few occasions I've recalled to memory an old momversation episode that featured a single mama blogger. A few nights ago i trawled through the backlog of episodes and found her. Since, i've been spending a lot of time over at ms.single mama and felt so much relief from hearing her perspective on parenting, family, love and life. So many times i've found myself nodding away as I read.

Alaina featured me and my story just yesterday and since then I've been receiving so many affirming comments from women in a similar position. At first it felt strange to have the harsh reality of my situation out there, I'd been wavering back and forth as to how much I might

share online. But the sharing has brought me comfort and encouragement from those finding their own way along the path of single motherhood.

So a big thank you to those of you who have reached out and gave me a "virtual hug". It makes it all feel a little less overwhelming.

Me and the mollster are getting settled into our own little apartment and I'm trying to find my feet with parenting solo style. It can feel very lonely knowing there is no one coming home to me at the end of the day to talk to and to help out with the mollyness. It's exhausting* and I spend most of my day feeling lousy at being a mum. I'm due mr bump on July 6th and he seems to be sucking out all my energy and making me feel totally immobile.

Molly got a nasty tummy bug the other day and, in between cleaning up the endless poop and vomit, we spent the whole day snuggling, me stroking her hair and her nuzzling into me as much as possible. She's also started to lean in and give me kisses. These things keep me going.

* I must mention, that I do get a lot of help from my family, it would do them a great discredit not to mention that. But I am trying my best to take on the main load, it's important for me that I am molly's primary carer and that she knows that.

2010-03-29T20:14:00.003-03:00

Tonight I booked my ticket to see Idlewild play in Belfast. I'll be the one standing near the back, looking like I have a beachball under my shirt, burping and generally looking uncomfortable with standing for long periods of time. I will however have the good good company of Ms. McDougall.

step aside for the Mighty Molly

2010-03-28T20:04:00.003-03:00

Testing out her new molars with the side of her mouth. How about dem der eyes!!

where the good goes.

2010-03-28T13:12:00.001-03:00

I have a wee tumblr blog going on these days, mostly just to keep track of things I click on that I like. Here she is:

Where the Good Goes

French Face begins...

2010-03-28T11:08:00.003-03:00

The Kids Alive craft fair on Saturday witnessed the beginning of a little collaboration with Heather and Karys, we like to call ourselves French Face. More photies to follow.

My backwards walk...

2010-03-23T21:12:00.006-03:00

The little lady and I had a sunny Sunday afternoon in the mountains. She had much fun stumbling amongst the enourmous roots of trees, chasing after footballs and spinning in circles till she fell down. She seems to get more and more fun by the day, she loves to dance, pull faces, hug her dolly and sing. I am thankful for my girl who takes joy in making me laugh.

I've got a little craft fair coming up on saturday, so i'm working on some Kanzashi flower pins and scalloped bunting. Tune in again for photies :o)

Here is a little musical interlude to your day. I think everyone shoudl sing with a Scottish accent, don't you?

stop all the clocks...

2010-03-10T22:29:00.003-04:00

the last photo from the deck. it all has been packed up, dismantled, poured out and swept up. goodbye stars, moon and sun. farewell ocean and wood.

goodbye bethel, the name we gave our home for the last 3 years.

i am sad to see you go, but i'm also relieved. you brought me molly, you brought me my son on the way. but you also brought me a great deal of heartache and isolation.

here is to happier times ahead, even though they seem very far off.

(23 weeks pregnant)

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden - Funeral Blues

written words

2010-03-01T20:00:00.003-04:00

I feel like a human sponge for soaking up words these days. I hang tenderly upon the lyrics of songs and dwell on poems for hours. I fell upon this beautiful Robert Frost poem tonight and felt breathless reading these pictoral stanzas filled with the unbearable acceptance of loss. After much adventure, I have come home by the highway.

Reluctance

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question "Whither?"

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

Robert Frost

lovely little illustration by the sweet Rebecca of The Clothes Horse.

singing the tune without the words...

2010-02-26T11:01:00.004-04:00

I don't have a good camera to take photos anymore, but for now I will settle for the webcam of a borrowed computer. I'm taking much comfort and strength in some good old wardrobe exploits. Once I get my own place again I hope to be back to some Wardrobe_Remixing.

I have some exciting news to share, the Bump is a Mr Bump! There is one very big reason why I am super excited about this news. I will reveal all when he is welcomed into the word and given the most perfect name for him. Mr Bump is growing at an extremely fast pace these days and I am beginning to miss having a waist line! I'm heading out to a little stitch and bitch group tonight, hopefully going to make myself a nice bow tie necklace.

Here is me and Mr Bump, can you see the little side profile?

A sense of myself and my hesitant light.

2010-02-22T21:00:00.002-04:00

A friend passed on this beautiful blessing to me. I could linger on every sentence for hours, it is so beautifully written. O'Donohue so tenderly describes the destruction I feel whilst humbly offering the comfort and direction that I must soak up.

Blessing for a broken relationship

Now you endeavour
To gather yourself
And withdraw in slow
Animal woundedness
From love turned sour and ungentle.

When we love, the depth in us
Trusts itself forward until
The empty space between
Becomes gradually woven
Into an embrace where longing
Can close its weary eyes.

Love can seldom end clean;
For all the tissue is torn
And each lover turned stranger
Is dropped into a ruin of distance.
Where emptiness is young and fierce.

Time becomes strange and slipshod;
It mixes memories that felt
The kiss of the eternal
With the blistering hurt of now.

Unknown to themselves,
Certain small things
Touch nerve-lines to the heart
And bring back with colour and force
All that is utterly lost.

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.

John O'Donohue

come out of the cave...

2010-02-22T08:58:00.006-04:00

Trying to find the strength and reason to get out of bed*, to get dressed, to put on make up, to eat, to keep going. Most mornings I lie there making a list of reasons to get up. After a few hours I usually find something convincing enough, either that or I am simply starving and must at least find my way to the fridge.

Clothes and make up always give a surprising lift to my spirits. Today I will be:

* Eating cheese

* Listening to mumford + sons and reading my current situation into every word and note.

* Immersing myself in the twitter world, now that I am back in a city (Belfast) where stuff happens I want to feel a bit more plugged in. Plus I just submitted my first entry to Artwiculate from the lovely creatives at Atto (two thirds of which are letting me crash in their house and tag along like their annoying cousin.)

* Making some little scrap notebooks for a craft fair coming up next month.

*molly is being minded by her auntie and uncle for a few weeks so I can get some head space.

you left me in the dark

2010-02-16T18:50:00.002-04:00

not sure what to say except that everything hurts. nothing is the same. everything is broken.

how will i ever be able to look at a photo of the last 7 years without feeling utterly devastated, heartbroken, abandoned, unloved, neglected, rejected, confused, angry...so very deeply sad.

love hurts. I shant brave that again.

I want to fall apart, I want to lose my mind, I want to fade off. But I have my girl, my molly. And I will somehow stay together for her. she deserves this devastation and rejection even less than I. how my heart aches for her.

2 evenings a week

2010-01-03T22:36:00.003-04:00

My husband works evenings. We have 2 evenings a week together. Two evenings to put the baby to bed and spend time alone. Two evenings to try and attempt some kind of social life. Two evenings when we actually go to bed together. For any of you thinking about choosing this kind of schedule, I will advice you against it, for the sake of your marriage. It sucks.

It's hard to tell if it's my pregnancy hormones, or the fact that it's Winter, or just plain harsh reality. But my days feel long and difficult. I had really hoped that my blues would have cleared when I got over the 1st trimester fatigue and nausea. But it doesn't seem the case.

When Shane works his night shifts I usually find myself crashed out in front of the tv (aka computer screen) watching some show I don't particularly love (because I want to save the really good ones for watching with Shane, on our two nights a week). The other night it was Desperate Housewives and it was a little scary how much it resonated with me. In one scene Felicity Huffman's character warns a new mother-to-be of the downsides of motherhood. She finished her rant with this:

The worst thing is, over the next 10 years, you will feel so desperately alone, but you will NEVER be alone.

Upon hearing this I took a sharp intake of breath and bit my lip.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alternative, more hopeful ending to the post :

Thank goodness for beautiful musings like this, that urge me to embrace this season in my lfie and look up.

2009-12-31T00:10:00.003-04:00

The other day I miraculously managed to get showered and dressed in something that wasn't my p'jammies! Shane remarked on how good I looked and suggested a potential wardrobe remix photo. I gave him an affectionate smile and told him that the only reason he thought my appearance looked so worthy was because I was out of my baby snot covered sweats and had managed to pull my hair out of it's 3 day ponytail. Remarkable it may be, but photo worthy twas not.

I can feel the severity of the first trimester beginning to leave me now and am starting to feel a little more like 'myself' (whatever that means). I take one little nap in the afternoon and the rest of the day I feel rather normal, as opposed to feeling that a weeks constant sleeping would not satisfy my insatiable fatigue! Whilst I have enjoyed the endless sofa snuggling with ms molly, I am happy to be over the hump of it all:

a family of four

2009-12-14T14:03:00.003-04:00

well folks, i'm still alive and just wanted to inform you all that i've been rather busy this last 3 months GROWING A BABY!

We are super super excited about being a family of four this July (and a wee bit terrified too!). I'm so tired, I had forgotten how exhausting the first trimester is. All I have to do is walk up the stairs from our basement and I just want to burst into tears. So I'm feeling pretty pathetic, but miss molly is keeping me on my toes!

I've been having a wee think about this blog and I think I need to stop fighting the urge to turn it into a bit of a mommy blog. After all this IS just the stage I'm at, n0 need to hide it. I'm sure I will be posting about fashion, interiors and handmade delights too, but the majority of the time, my most interesting contribution is a few photos of molly and a funny story (funny to me at least!) about my adventures in parenting that day.

These last few months I've been so tired, and SO behind in laundry, that I have been quite possibly the least fashionable person ever. I am however looking forward to flaunting my 3rd trimester bump this summer. Being heavily preggo in winter wasn't a whole lot of fun last year, coats don't button up and I get so bored of wearing UGG's (or cheap knock off) with everything. This time around, I hope to have a little more fun with some summer dresses. Molly's but has been stinking the whole time I've been writing this post, I really should attend to that!!

basement begins

2009-09-06T23:36:00.004-03:00

These last few months I have been heavily engrossed in basement rennovations. The whole place was gutted and built from new. With much help from a good friend I laid all the click flooring myself! For me, this deserves an exclamation point, I'm normally the least DIY person ever. But with oodles of inspiration from Design Sponge, I am really enjoying my dabbling in the 'handy' world. I'm obsessed with home decor lately and can't pass a decorating magazine without snooping through it.

Coming from the UK, I'm continually surprised by basements. I can't believe how massive our house feels now, just a few months ago it felt cramped and crowded by all my junk. We now have our master bedroom in the basement, I couldn't resist moving our bed down here, we have enough space for a little sitting area, a little sink vanity and GET THIS PEOPLE, a Walk. In. Closet. YES, my dreams have come true!!!

I scored some lovely second hand couches and moved our tv down to the, herby named, family room, with plenty of room for Molly to crawl about (yes, she is now crawling!)

Everything is still in transition, I have a bit more painting to do and a lot of organizing. Until then..

Lebowski Fest 2009

2009-08-23T22:48:00.004-03:00

Taking Quispamsis by storm. All 4.5 of us.

On Friday night we (us and two of our good friends) got together to celebrate our 2nd Lebowski Fest (Here is last years effort). We donned ourselves in our Lebowski garb and roamed the local bowling alley (and a rather embarrassing trip to the corner store) discussing superbly nerdy lebowski trivia and debating our favourite Dude-ism's

I chose to incarnate myself as Gutterball Maude. Here is what the real thing looks like:

And here is what I looked like.

How did you achieve such a costume? I hear you cry. Well, there was a LOT of gold spray paint involved. The fork was the easiest part, it's just a devil fork sprayed gold. The skirt was made from a plastic tablecloth, duct tape and lots of scissor work. For the bowling ball brazier I cut some floral foam in half, made some suitable dents with a wooden spoon, went mad with spray paint which made the foam sizzle somewhat worryingly...

** At which point I called into Shane from the deck "my boobs are disintegrating!", which, after nearly 9 months of Breast feeding, is probably closer to the truth than I care to share! **

Eventually the sizzling ceased and I strung 'em together with some gold ribbon and tada - a bowling ball brazier of maude-esque awesomeness! To top it of I spent two days hunting everywhere for a Viking hat and right up until the last minute I didn't know if I had one available to hire or not. So in a panic I grabbed myself a margarine tub, newspaper, duct tape and, yes, some gold spray paint and fashioned myself a viking hat.

By the end of the night my whole costume was looking a little tired. I think most of that had to do with the gold paint compromising the stickyness of the duct tape. But I soldiered on.

My other duty was to find something good for Molly. I decided to make her a Nihilist. You may not realize but it is reallllly hard to find a black baby onesie. So I ended up dying one of her pink ones (I am always happy to reduce the amount of pink in Mollypop's wardrobe!) and labelling her a nihilist with some fabric paint.

I plan on having a lot more fun with fabric paint in the future. Hopefully with a potato stamp next time like this:

from Bits and Bobbins

For those of you who haven't already watched and re-watched the wonderfully brilliant The Big Lebowski: Stop being silly, go away right now and watch it!

Thrifty DecorBaby

2009-08-10T09:00:00.002-03:00

Here is a little sneak peek at Molly's room. I plan on getting it all properly photographed and I DREAM of having it featured on Odeedoh. I won't hold my breath, but a girl can dream. It is mostly filled with thrifted finds, and, unintentionally, there is a lot of Dollar Store content in there too. I love to see what can be created on a teeny-tiny budget.

'M' plushie - made with Dollar Store felt
Origami star - made with D S paper
Frame - thrited for $1 at a yard sale
Vintage dress on pink hanger - a gift from my MIL (aka Molly's Gran), who spied it at a Spanish market
Dress on yellow hanger - found this for $2 at Frenchy's (I think it's supposed to be a doll dress!)
Dress on green hanger - a gorgeous little denim number, gifted from a friend.

I splurged a bit for the hangers themselves. Couldn't resist.

Thanks

Steenink.

Zombies!

2009-08-09T18:30:00.000-03:00

This was me headed out to a friends house to see the movie Rec. Or so i thought, there was too much fun being had, so we never got round to the movie. we did have some pretty in depth conversations about zombie related scenarios. In all seriousness, I obsess over what i'd do in the advent of a zombie attack. zombies are not a laughing matter people!!

jeans - tk maxx - ralph lauren (i've considered picking off the label but haven't ever bothered. i'm not a big fan of being branded)

slip - thrifted at value village, it's really long and opaque at the sides.

braided belt - winners waistcoat - topshop - it was a gift, it's pretty snug!

necklace - salvaged from a broken brooch of mum's hair pin - made by me.

summertime and the living is easy

2009-08-03T00:09:00.005-03:00

We have had some shiny-shiny-sunshine these last few days. Thus we have been happily lounging on the beach and swimming. We have a public beach just five minutes from our house. It's been so nice to pack up a bag and go hang out under a shady tree, away from the housework, the renovations, the computer... I find we focus so much more on molly when we are all hanging out on a picnic blanket, we can bask in her laughter and marvel at every little expression. She's become a real pro and sitting up by herself, she has been able to do it in brief bouts for a few weeks, but now she is a total pro. It looks so grown up! TOO grown up!

As promised, I got some photos of the other dress I made. It is made from salvaged material. The flower embellishment is from a vintage handkerchief.

"The revolution will be accessorized"

2009-07-29T19:36:00.003-03:00

I happened upon a wonderful thing called the Uniform Project. The lovely Sheena Matheiken has challenged herself to wear the same simple black dress everyday for a year. Her purpose is two fold, raising funds for education in India (you can donate via the site) and to play around with the idea of uniform. She describes it much better than I could:

I was raised and schooled in India where uniforms were a mandate in most public schools. Despite the imposed conformity, kids always found a way to bend the rules and flaunt a little personality. Boys rolled up their sleeves, wore over-sized swatches, and hiked up their pants to show off their high-tops. Girls obsessed over bangles, bindis and bad hairdos. Peaking through the sea of uniforms were the idiosyncrasies of teen style and individual flare. I now want to put the same rules to test again, only this time I'm trading in the catholic school fervor for an eBay addiction and relocating the school walls to this wonderful place called the internet.

Everyone seems to have their own opinion on school uniforms. Having been clad in a school uniform myself for 14 years, I do to. I love that a uniform equalizes the financial disparity among students. And yes, I am well aware that it is possible to tell a rich student form a poor one by the brand of shoes or school bag, still, inarguably a uniform levels the playing field somewhat.

Personally, however, I can't help but feel my adolescent life would have been made a whole lot easier if I'd been able to wear what I wanted. I looked SO bad in my school uniform. This was frustrating since I've always drawn a lot of my confidence from how I dress. Disabling my fashion sense therefore disabled much of my confidence. In fact, just this week someone tagged me on facebook in an old school photograph and I did the unforgivable... I removed the tag! I 'did my time' in that horrible suit of royal blue nylon and I no longer want to be known or remembered that way!

Not only that, but unlike most of my friends, I went to a pretty crappy school. Whenever we'd hang out or bump into each other in our uniforms I'd feel like I was wearing a big dunce hat. Maybe I was/am just too proud. But It would have been nice to have felt on par.

But at the end of the day, I am a mad raving socialist. So bring on the uniforms, stuff a copy of the Communist Manifesto in every pocket, and when we feel our confidence sag, let's just look to Sheena Matheiken of the Uniform Project for inspiration.

In no particular order, here are my top 10 favourites from the Uniform Project:

(I believe I may be pining for fall. Many of my choices are very autumnal.) I love these boots and the teal and dusky rose colour together is perfect:

I need these ankle boots :

The colours and the layering of the tights and the stockings are soooo great here:

floaty, summery, lovely :

BOWS! :

plums and pinks - yes please :

She looks so cute here. Very Audrey Hepburn. The little leggings are lovely.

The side parting, the mustard vest, the bow tie, the socks!

Loving the boots and the layering of tights, stockings and leggings!! I must do this! :

The necklace is very sweet and the little black dress looks entirely different in this one :

Pillowcase dress

2009-07-22T09:00:00.000-03:00

I've been wanting to try out the classic pillowcase dress for a while now and the other night I finally got round to it. I didn't actually make it out of a pillowcase as I thought molly is probably still a bit too teeny for that. But, I delved deep into my stash and found some cute blue and white fabric along with a scrap of faux bois for the bottom and the picot edged bias tape was perfect for the arm holes and ties. I was so pleased with this one that I made a second one the next night. I might get it photographed tomorrow if the weather permits. I'm about to embark on my 3rd one just to see how I can vary the shape of it for the best fit. If I find the perfect design I may get some up on Etsy sometime.

something from the photo booth to signify life!

2009-07-20T09:00:00.000-03:00

We are going through some pretty gigantic transitions here in the Magee household, and that isn't even counting the wee wonder that is our 'growin-like-a-weed' Mollster. I hope to be able to divulge them here in the next week or so (and NO it isn't another pregnancy announcement!).

Until then, here is a little peek into my regular ol' day to day...

(Due to the superbly wonderful photo booth feature on my mac (aka 'my precious') I am able to snap the little parts of life that occur when we are sitting at the computer. )

much story telling (this board book is from the creative genius Nikki McClure)

there has been much post bath snugglin'

some pretty heavy renovations (this isn't our house, it's just our barn)

Excuse the almost-nudity but I wouldn't be accurately portraying the 'day-to-day' If I didn't have a shot in here like this. In the last few weeks Molly has started taking some occasional 'solids' (not really solid at all, more 'mushy'). Up until this I had been spending most of my days semi clad, always at the ready for the next feeding. During my whole pregnancy I was totally freaked out about the idea of Breast feeding. I knew I was going to do it as I was and am entirely convinced it is what is best for the baby, but the idea of having a baby 'suckin on ma boob' totally grossed me out. Ewww.

8 months on and I am so very glad I chose to, and persisted in, feeding her myself. It's much handier than bothering with a bottle and sterilizing, It's cheaper, it burns calories, it shrinks your uterus right back to size in no time and something very near and dear to my heart, In the mornings I bring her into bed with me and feed her WHILST I SNOOZE (I am a great lover of 'the sleep'). The benefits go on and on... I don't intend to preach, but BF has taken up a large portion of my life for the last 8 months and I am more proud of myself for this than anything else I've done so far....So what else has been going on?

there's been lots of face pulling

late night moments of 'chillllld why are you not asleeeep!'

much giggling

and even some snuggling with the hubby in front of our favourite movies and shows

There have indeed been creative endeavours too, but that's for later...

unique moments

2009-04-02T20:42:00.003-03:00

The other night I settled down to revisit Garden State. It is a sweet little film but I still despise the last 15 minutes. I don't understand why it seems to lose all of it's self awareness at the end. It feels like I accidentally changed channels and got stuck watching some corny Hallmark film.

My favourite part is this:

Tonight me and Shane have been having fun making some silly unique moments ourselves.

Thanks so much for your comments on the previous post, good to know you are still out there! Milla, I am tres excited about the possibility of swapping lovelies with you!

a little needy

2009-04-01T15:07:00.002-03:00

Oh my goodness me! How neglected this little blog has been. I doubt there is ANYONE left to read it. If anyone is out there, hello, how've ya been?

Molly is growing and growing and growing, it is hard to believe that it's all happening on breast milk! She captures my heart more and more every day and I regularly well up with emotion at just how much I love and adore her. Who would have thought but being a mum has made me unbelievably happy.

Though life is not a bed of roses exactly. Shane works horrible, anti social shifts in a job he absolutely loathes. So I spend around 60% of my week feeling like a single mum, stuck in the boonies with no transport, refreshing facebook a million times a second so I can receive some form of communication a little more sophisticated than the 'please change my diaper' cry or the 'feed me NOW woman!' cry.

Needless to say, I feel a little needy.

When Shane arrives home (on the occasions he is home for more than 6 hours sleep before he is back into 'hell' again) I am unbelievable relieved. It surprises me how much better I feel having another set of hands around to pass molly to or help clean up. I guess sometimes It just takes three.

I could go on, but it would probably just become one of those blogs that looks intimidatingly long and is never actually read.

2009-02-16T16:02:00.003-04:00

So I've started to get into twitter. The isolation of being a brand new stay at home mum can be overwhelming at times and the internet really does keep me sane. Especially with nursing as i'm rooted to one spot unable to do much but surf the 'interweb'.

So feel free to follow me on twitter (my username is steenink) and let me know if you are a fellow twitterer yourself.

One of the people I am following is Stephen Fry, the Magee household are big big fans of "the fry". He has been twittering lately about this campaign. It is abhorrent to me that the New Zealand government feel they can deem someone guilty of copyright infringement simply upon accusation, with no evidence and no trial.

But I started to argue with myself over the possible success of this campaign. It has a great premise, but I ask you, can we really make a difference by changing our profile pics and status?

For now, I have decided that trying doesn't hurt. And the least that can happen is that the people who pursue my status and read up on it are more informed and perhaps impassioned about human rights and angered about it's violation.

Is accessibility to the internet a human right? maybe not, but the right to trial is.

let me know what you think?

these things, i love

2009-01-26T20:08:00.003-04:00

Mette Linderberg of the Asteroids Galaxy Tour, has there ever been anyone cuter?! I discovered her when catching up on Never Mind the Buzzcocks episodes last night. It turns out they have found their fame by being featured in an ipod shuffle ad, something i've missed as we opt out of the whole television thing. I can only get my hands on a few of their songs (I guess that's the curse of attaining fame before you're ready) but i'm hooked. AND her bangs have got me wondering wether I need to take another trip down that lane again...hmm, it is a perpetual conundrum for me.

Gimmie! Loving this gorgeous piece of jewellery by Norwegian Wood over at Etsy:
I need a vintage/bright plate collection for above my kitchen window!:
Banksy - you are a genius:
indeed:

adjusting to mutha'hood

2009-01-11T19:22:00.007-04:00

to my shock I've been hanging out at momversation.com and loving it.

No seriously, the site is called 'momversation'...see what they did there?

Never in my life did I imagine myself spending hours watching a bunch of 'moms' talk about all things motherly. Never did I imagine that I would find so much of my identity in being a mum. I can't believe how completely gooey I become at the sight of a baby, never mind the surge of love that besets me when I see the ickle cuteness that is my very own daughter, Molly.

The first few weeks of Molly's life was a strange introduction to motherhood for me. Once I finally got unplugged from the IV's and the darn catheter, I was allowed to go visit her in the Neonatal ICU. Shane wheeled me down there in a wheelchair and we nervously hovered outside her incubation box until a nurse gave us permission to take her out and hold her. Aside from two brief moments when I was doped up on the magnesium sulfate (one of them shortly after delivery) this was effectively the first time I got to hold my daughter, 30 something hours after she left my very body. It felt that she had been stolen from me.

As I've said before, I've never been around babies, so I already felt that I was roaming in strange territory. But when Molly was handed to me that evening, I felt like I was being supervised. There where nurses everywhere and Molly was hooked up to a bunch of different leads to monitor her. In my head I genuinely felt that if I held her wrong or didn't appear responsible enough it would get noted in some file somewhere and she would be taken from me, forever! I stared at her, quite suspiciously, wondering if I would ever get a chance at being her Mum.

During the visit I kept myself kind of distanced from the whole situation keeping my emotions bottled up till I could return to the hospital room and have a meltdown. Back in the room I told Shane how i was feeling, sobbed, and muttered the words ' i love her' ..at this point Shane confessed that he was really glad to hear me say that as he was concerned during our nicu visit.

We were in hospital for a total of ten days and during that time the surveillance decreased until we had her in my room pretty much most of the day. Our interaction with Molly seemed incredibly task focussed, she wasn't allowed home until she gained weight so we were on a strict regime, our three hour routine went like so:

wake her
change her
attempt breastfeeding...fail miserably
fortify breast milk in a bottle
feed her bottle
burp her
pump so we had milk to fortify for next feeding
put her back to sleep in her bed

(we were advised not to hold her as she slept as our movements might disturb her sleep and leave her drowsy for the next feeding).

finally, speak to an nicu nurse and tell them how long she breast fed for, how many ml's she took from the bottle and how much I was able to pump.

Repeat two hours later.

And so this was the beginning, little time for bonding, no grace for mistakes. This treacherous pattern continued the first week she was home. It wasn't until week two that I decided to take some time out and stare at her, talk to her, sing to her, snuggle her..and that is where the love affair truly began, my heart is bursting. The other night, she was sleeping next to me and I reached out to her in the dark and held her tiny little hand - I swear, for a few seconds I was floating.

She is gaining weight rapidly, breast feeding wonderfully and i'm SURE she is smiling at me. She is perfect, she is Molly and she is alllllllll mine (and a little bit of her dad's ;o).

Molly Joan Magee - the most beautiful girl in the world

2008-12-21T22:09:00.002-04:00

On December 4th I gave birth to this stunning little creature

I do want to write up some kind of 'birth story' at some point. But right now, i'm just too busy staring at, feeding, changing, bathing and all together caring for my daughter (!!! oh I love how that sounds! 'my daughter'!!).

In brief, molly came a month early as her mummy (that's me!) was very sick with a thing called pre-eclampsia. Shane sat by my bedside through the whole long process blogging from his iphone. I doubt I could write the birth story better than him, so if you're interested you might like to have a wee read of his account of it all, start here and work your way forward.

6 weeks to go, but who's counting?

2008-11-16T21:40:00.004-04:00

let me start by declaring, in just under 7 weeks I am going to be a mother and I have never changed a diaper!

A great friend is throwing us a lovely unisex (phew) baby shower on Thursday the 27th. If you want to be there, contact me and I can pass on directions and times.

Our registry is at toysRus (Saint John location, or toysrus.ca), listed under Shane Magee. I have tried to keep the list pretty small, with some of the bigger things that I know we will need. When it comes to clothing and toys, I thought I would leave it up to the gift giver (though we have plenty of sleepers, no need for more of them). Now this is the important part:

We both feel very strongly about the importance of reusing and recycling. So if you do happen to see, or have, a registry item (or item that is similar but a different brand etc.) second hand please let me know and I will remove it from the official list and considered it bought.

We welcome and indeed encourage used/vintage/second hand/loved (however you want to call it) gifts. Baby items are so temporary, it seems such a waste to spend a ton of money on items that are readily available second hand (and very often barely used and in perfect condition!).

A big thank you in advance and thanks already to those who have given us lovely lovely things and of course those who have lavished us with lovely lovely love. This is an exciting and scary adventure we are about to embark on. We both feel so excited and nervous to meet our little kid! I hope s/he likes us!

some bowie to clean the house to

2008-11-02T16:09:00.001-04:00

Significant dates....

2008-11-01T20:03:00.002-03:00

This is a big emotionally loaded week ahead of me. The 2nd would have been my mums birthday the 3rd of Nov is the 3rd anniversary of her death and on the 5th we have an ultra sound.

These last few years I have chosen not to think about the significance of these dates. I guess I just got preoccupied and didn't want to dwell. But this year I have been spending a lot of time thinking about my mum. I miss her. I'm sure it has a lot to do with being in the process of becoming a mum myself.....Anyway, happy birthday mum.

FiNaLlY -NeW iTeMs In StOrE !!

2008-10-28T22:42:00.002-03:00

I finally got a few items listed at my Etsy shop this eve.

Cute little purse

and a happy little ice cream bag

Will come nicely wrapped and tagged and would make very nice Christmas pressies, nudge nudge.

Spread the word, Etsy alone doesn't seem to generate a whole lot of traffic to the store these days. It's just got too darn popular. Pah!

the greyest day there has ever been.....vol.3

2008-10-28T19:29:00.001-03:00