adjusting to mutha'hood

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).

 

The Secret Society of Gingers

I have been wanting to write about this for a while. Though it will be hard to cram all I want to say about the trials, tribulations and joy of being a redhead in one go. I think it may be the first of a series.

Ginger , copper nopper, carrot top, rusty brain the list goes on. These were a few of the names the average redheaded kid gets thrown at them. I cannot express how much I haaaateeed my hair growing up. I haaaaaaatttttttttteeeeeeeeed it. I used to beg my mum to let me dye it a different colour, but she would never let me. She told me that she didn't understand, that I was the envy of everyone and that I would have to stick with it for now and that I'd like it when I was older.

There seems to be a kind of solidarity between redheads. Perhaps it is the persecution we recieve early on that unites us, but anytime I see a natural redhead I seem to give them a nod. It is a little bit comparable with the feeling Mac users get when they see another person using a Mac.

I have always been a bit obsessive over any redhaired female celbrity. I was addicted to My So Called Life. I loved looking at pictures of Tori Amos but my most fav redhead has to be...Karen Elson.

It was only a few years ago that us redheads seemed to be truly welcomed by the fashion industry. Now we seem to be a pretty regular occurrance in the pages of vogue. My old hairdresser in the UK used to cut Elson's hair in the old days when she had no eyebrows (that is my claim to fame ;o).

Instead of boring you with the reasons for my Elson adoration, I will let you have some time with her yourself:

Greeeeeeen

95% of the time I use Canadian wool from a factory only an hour away. Last night however, I could not resist these colours. This wool cost more than usual But I thought I could knit a bag in my regular wool and then use this fancy stuff as a flap or something.

I also got the linen napkins last night from the wonderful Value Village (how do I love thee? let me count the ways). I love the color. I'm thinking I can use them to make some pretty corsage brooches.

In Value Village I was also hunting for some granny boots. Granny boots? you ask! Well, it was here that I first fell in love with granny boots and I know you will too (but don't tell too many people, keep it on the down low). No success last night but I am keeping my eyes open.


Today, I am working on a bright red crochet flap for a grey bag, and watching endless episodes of the Gilmore Girls (one of my many addictions). It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it!

missing...

rear view
Originally uploaded by steen ink

A few days ago I decided to start taking care of myself. By 'taking care of myself' I mean the following things:
take make-up of at night
drink water instead of aspartane d.c. all the time
brush teeth with more vigor

etc.

They are probably the vital basics for most people, but I have always been pretty sloppy when it comes to anything that takes a bit of discipline before I reap the benefit. I prefer the instant results attained by make-up and wardrobe. But my sloppiness is catching up with me - or that is how it feels. So I've been trying to think longer term for personal care. I had even been considered getting an anti-aging cream.

Then this morning, a girl I barely know, but like (and who earns instant kudos for being a girl called toby), tells me that she has some bags of cosmetics that she want's to give me. Turns out she has allergies and is getting rid of all of her...wait for it...CLINIQUE! gasp, I have never owned pricey makeup/cosmetics before!

It feels like Christmas, this afternoon I displayed all these lovely delights out in front of me. Shane was laughing at me because I had the biggest grin on my face. I divided them into 3 piles:
+ makeup
+ daily facials
+ pamper nights

Tonight as I was washing my face with my uber fancy facial soap I suddenly longed to be able to call up my mum and tell her about it. And for a split second I forgot that I couldn't. She would have liked to have heard about it. She would have been impressed.

My very own Steen Ink bag

10th March 08 - felted market bag
Originally uploaded by steen ink

I made this bag way back in early fall, it took me fooorevver. In fact, it was such a traumatic process that I buried it in the back of my closet and vowed never to look at it again. But last week I got the idea to sew on some lace to it and draw it in at the top (so it didn't look so shapeless). And tada, here it is. I haven't yet sewn on the lace, it is just pinned on here.

I am always being told that I should have one of my own bags on me all the time, as a kind of advertisement, but every time I make one that I love I think I would prefer to sell it and get some money. But I think this bag may just be there perfect size and color for me. hmm.

Things are troubled here, the other night we came home from a friends house at about midnight, I wanted to go check on some laundry in the basement, SO as I descended down the stairs I heard a SpLaSh when I reached the final step. yup, our basement flooded, big time. It was TERRIBLE, me and shane sat for a few hours scooping the water up with anything 'bucket like' we could find, the whole time I am sobbing at how much money it will cost to repair the damage.

In the morning the water had obviously found a way out and drained away, we have the heat up high down there to dry things out and a friend lent us their dehumidifier too. Someone is coming to look at things this week. fingers crossed it is a tiny tiny problem....

fun times

I have been having fun times lately, I had a great girls night out, followed by a great party the next day. Then lovely friends treated to us a meal and then a great day spent with my friend Deb getting her all set up for etsy success. Deb makes beautiful tatted lace and rug hooked products, both dying arts I might add. Her shop is here and it will have lots of lacey delights in the next few days. Here are some pics of all the fun.

Love Much

Years ago, Shane gave me a beautiful
book of poetry by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
There is an inscription in the front,
beautifully handwritten it says:
"To my dearest and best
mother, with fond love,
Winnie 1911'

I love holding it and thinking nearly
100 years ago this very book was a
gift to 'Winnies' mother! When I
researched Wilcox I discovered that
has always been snubbed by the
literary crowd as a 'trite' and
'popular poet'. True she rhymes a lot
and her poems are mostly optimistic,
but her poetry yells and testifies at
conquering through suffering.
And can that really be trite?

Last night we watched the movie
'A Mighty Heart', there is a scene towards the end
where the lead character, Marianne
(played by Angelina Jolie) has just received news of her
husbands death (it isn't really a spoiler). She locks
herself in her room and screams and yells. It is really
difficult to watch, uncomfortable, I really felt that I was
invading a very personal moment (Jolie is great at crying,
e.g. girl interrupted). It brought me right back to the two
occasions when I have reacted this way. One of those times
was when I had just received news that my mums surgery was
not successful and she only had a few months left to live.
It was a surreal experience to hear my voice make noises
I had never heard before, I felt that I was
floating in the sealing watching myself lose it.

It is these kind of things that really threaten to break
your spirit. I find myself clinging on to my core beliefs
that have been shaken, that life IS beautiful, people
ARE good. That love DOES conquer. I am trying to learn
the poem below of by heart.
It is a principle I am clinging to. I never thought I
would get a tattoo, but I reckon 'Love Much' would be a
pretty good reminder to have permanently placed upon me.


Love Much 


Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.
Cast sweets into its cup whene’er you can.
No heart so hard, but love at last may win it.
Love is the great primæval cause of man.
All hate is foreign to the first great plan.

Love much. Your heart will be led out to slaughter,
On altars built of envy and deciet.
Love on, love on! ‘tis bread upon the water;
It shall be cast in loaves yet at your feet,
Unleavened manna, most divinely sweet.

Love much. Your faith will be dethroned and shaken,
Your trust betrayed by many a fair, false lure.
Remount your faith, and let new trusts awaken.
Though clouds obscure them, yet the stars are pure;
Love is a vital force and must endure.

Love much. Men’s souls contract with cold suspicion;
Shine on them with warm love, and they expand.
‘Tis love, not creeds, that from a low condition
Leads mankind up to heights supreme and grand.
Oh that the world could see and understand!

Love much. There is no waste in freely giving;
More blessed is it, even, than to receive.
He who loves much alone finds life worth living:
Love on, through doubt and darkness; and believe
There is no thing which Love may not achieve. 

Movies, Maps and Journals

Last week we went to see ' Charlie Wilson's War ' , I would give it a very recommendable 4 out of 5, really great, though not quite as perfect as the wonderful 'Juno'. Anyway, at one point in Charlie Wilson's War, Wilson (played by Tom Hanks) draws a mental picture in the air of North West Asia, including the names and positions of all the countries (the ones I like to call the 'stans').

I was instantly jealous of this kind of knowledge, there are so many countries I don't even know exist, never mind their geographic position! I usually find myself sinking into my seat when I end up in a conversation that involves some sort of geographic understanding. So I have set myself a challenge to be able to draw a mental picture of the world, all the countries and their positions.

I have dusted of our Peters World Atlas (btw, the Peters projection is amazing, bin your old map and get this! read why here) and have begun the learning. I almost know all of Africa!

I made myself a new journal, I made it with all the blank pages in my old school books (telling isn't it?) and a page from a road map we have of the UK (wont be needing that anymore). I love the therapy a journal offers, I barely ever write about day to day things in it. I usually scribble, doodle, scrawl poetry, collage, etc. I have named it the 'fix me notebook' , it is my plea to the journal. I am glad to put the old one behind me (and so was Gretchen considering she expressed her true feelings for that account of history by chewing it up). I hand bound the journal with thread.

I had overdosed on knitting last week, So I am having fun with brooch ideas and jewelry this week.

not today

Well it may be Friday but I am not feeling so fashionable. In the trend of bloggers like Dooce I will be brutally honest and just say that the ovary demons are visiting, so all I want to do is stay in my pj's and slippers and groan every now and then (ya understand me all you woman out there?).

I am glad for the clean slate of a new year. I feel I need it. It is probably due to my point of view right now but I can't help but feel that 2007 was a year of uncertainty, feeling lost, hurting etc. But I know someday I will be able to look back on it and see the good stuff too.

Bring it on 2008 I am ready for some silver linings.

We had the biggest snow the other day, it was wonderful. This is what greeted us when we opened our door in the morning.

Today is International Human Rights Day

It's 11pm and I only just now bothered to open the email I got today from Amnesty International. It turns out its International Human Rights Day.

This September I was enrolled to go to the College of Law, London, and begin my training in law. I want/ed to become a human rights lawyer. Why? Because often I feel so overwhelmed at the oppression and injustice in the world and I thought that having a background in law would help me change it.

Well I made other choices, and good ones, i think. Yet I don't want to stop wanting to make the world more just, to look out for those on the underbelly of what we call 'civilisation'.

Take some time today (be it the 10th of December or not) to think about what you think are the fundamental rights of humans.

What can we do? What can I do?

Maybe this is a small start.

i froze my bum off today getting pics of my bags...

It's one of THOSE days.
I can't even show you the pictures i took this morning of my bags because we are currently borrowing a friend's old laptop and it can't handle the format we took the pics in. I wanted to get some bags listed already today but i cant find my measuring tape to get accurate measurements for the listing. Arg!



Though it ain't all bag news (sic)! We heard from immigration today. Our applications have been processed and we are still legal. Phew. That horrible knot in my stomach is suddenly gone. So the photos, the cold and the measuring tape, small potatoes.

I've been knitting away trying to get a bunch to put up every day or so in the lead up to Christmas. And I'm pleased with the results. mostly. I fear I shall always be my worst critic.

Some of these bags have been knitted when I've been in a very dark place, it's nice to see
creativity come out of chaos.
I've even had a go at an ipod sleeve and i like it. It is helpful to have small items I can churn out faster than the bags.