The Last Night

Tonight my beautiful Daughter & I bathed together.

For some reason, one which entirely escapes me, we have never before had a bath together.

I remember that as a child always I would frequently have baths with my mum. I suppose I thought nothing of it at the time but I realise that it really was a relaxing & natural way to bond. There is something about water that is so soothing, so healing. I realise that bathing seems to be a recurring theme these days - see Contentment - so I'll try & keep the talk of nakedness to a minimum from now on.


After we were dry we got into our pyjamas & went to the chip shop. As you'd expect, we got quite a lot of funny looks, me in bright pink leggings, complete with vivid green JLS hoody (yup, JLS the crap band) & daughter in her stripey pyjamas nicely matched with wellies & wet hair, but who gives a damn! Tomorrow we shan't live here!

Fish & chips were delicious, as expected & then a story was had & currently my little babe is curled up in my bed, or rather on my mattress as I took down her bed & my bedframe earlier today.

There is something entirely fulfilling about the feeling you get when you get out your [enormous] toolkit - steady now - & take something intricate to pieces, knowing that you are fully capable of putting it back together again.

I'm the kind of girl who does not need a man for any of the DIY related things. I'm practical & proud.

So what do I need a man for? Security? Love? Sex?

All of the above, I guess, but being the fully capable type of girl I am still not 100% comfortable with sharing my time. It's something I'll have to get used to, something I have little choice in now - the deed is done. having said that, this is all I've ever wanted & I am excited, I just didn't want it quite so soon.

Now that I re-read, I'd like to add that I am certainly not a fully capable type of girl in an all-round sense. I am fully capable in the technical/practical sense, but emotionally I guess, as we all are, I'm a a little bit fucked up & it's fair to say I function better when I'm loved. I suppose, then, that means I'm covered in all aspects now.

I don't know. I don't have the answers to how it will pan out or whether this will be exactly what I need. It feels scary, but at the same time it feels right. More right than any decision of this sort I've ever made in the past & that can only be a good thing, can't it?

All I do know it that I'm looking forward to curling up with my sleeping beauty tonight, just the two of us, for the last time. I know that I'm looking forward to pledging one half of my bed to my wonderful man tomorrow evening & I'm looking forward to him sharing it with me for the forseeable future. I'm looking forward to it being just the four of us. I'm looking forward to love.

I'm not, however, looking forward to painstakingly unpacking these & all their friends:

I should probably apologise in advance as we shan't have internet for at least 3 weeks. I think that I may go crazy, but apart from my loss of sanity it means that the Etsy shop shall be on vacation & I shan't be blogging for some time.

On my return I hope to have miraculously created a whole shop full of wonderful items, but something tells me that between unpacking, decorating the childrens' bedrooms & the arty commitments that I have all ready signed up for (an art exhibition & some pieces for the cafe, amongst other things) that wonders should not come so easily!

In the mean time, I wish you all well.

Yours, Gwin.

Packing, Procrastination & Apprehension.

Today, I shall mainly be packing. That is, whenever I am not on a tea/blog/procrastination/wee (not meaning to be vulgar but it's a joy of pregnancy) break.

I have, however, had two small set backs. The first is that I've used half my previously-thought-to-be-adequate supply of boxes in the kitchen alone, & that does not even include half the crockery & cutlery I am leaving until the final hour to pack, nor the crap that I can't be bothered to wash up (the latter probably counting for about a third of my kitchenware).

So, currently my kitchen looks like this:

My second set back is that being five months pregnant makes it increasingly difficult to move, let alone lift, heavy objects. If you are a shrewd observer you may have noted the four heavy-looking items right in the middle of my kitchen floor. Appearances are not deceptive & alas they are heavy & indeed they are stuck there. The man is not due around until next week so I'm facing a weekend whereby the simple acts of getting daughter's cereal or cooking risotto are going to become stealth missions of great peril (particularly the half-awake morning parts) made even more treacherous to navigate given my current heffer-like state.

When I'd got quite fed up of inky-black hands & deciding which junk to keep & which junk to palm off on some poor unsuspecting friend, who once politely expressed some vaguely-positive opinion of said junk, I decided that I should probably let you know about the latest additions to the very, very slowly but sort of surely expanding bits & bobs on the Etsy shop. I also decided that I should try to use more full stops & apologise for that last sentence!

Here are the bobs:

You've probably seen the Green Love Owl (#1) before, but there's also Fiery Love Owl (#2) & Love Cat (#1) Daughter is still rather fond of these so I'll have to do something nice for her new bedroom.

I still can't quite believe that I only have three more full days left to pack - we don't move for a week but the rest of my time is full with work & other errands - nor can I believe that when we are all moved in & settled that a couple of months down the line we'll have a new addition to our only just newly formed family. I'm just coming to grips with the idea of sharing my time again, & when, between nappies, man, toys & housework will I fit in art & blogging & a quiet cup of Ovaltine? Well, to be fairly honest I'll probably fit the nicer things in where I should be fitting the housework but let's hope some miracle occurs & I somehow transform into a goddess of the domestic variety.

The thing that I feel most apprehensive about is not being the bread-winner, or the provider. Sure, I'll work until 6 weeks before The Big Day, but only part time. I shall struggle to make half the rent. I've struggled before but never have I been in a position where the struggle isn't needed - I won't have to pay half the rent, though of course I'll put in all I can. Never have I had someone take the reigns in that respect & that scares the crap out of me.

Of course, I am more than grateful, but that makes it no less scary. I've allocated myself the job of chief nest-maker which you may think is given, but last time I was bread-winner, nest-maker & nappy-changer, amongst other things. I find it difficult to feel satisfied that I am putting enough in - but is that because I'm used to being the only source of input? I feel simultaneously lucky & guilty. Not that my man makes me feel any guilt, quite the opposite, but because it's just such a shift in the way I'm used to living.

Maybe I'll quite like the lady-of-leisure lifestyle. I will certainly try to enjoy it & make the most of the valuable time I spend with the children. That, of course is the most precious reward I could get.


I guess the only thing to do is sell more art.

Anyone?

Everything is changing

An unexpected pregnancy leads to life being tipped upside-down.

We swap a flat for a house.

I swap my single parent fram of mind for family living.

I swap one mischeivous imp for two.

He swaps no mischeivous imps for two (plus mischeivous mother of said imps).

I swap small-town for bigger-town.

He swaps city-life for town-life.

We swap our ten minute commute to work to forty five minute commutes in opposite directions.

We meet in the middle of our current lives & hopefully forge something that we will call 'our life together'.

Everything is changing, for the better.

Messiness & radio jingles

Usually, it is a given that our home is messy.

Today, however, it is particularly so. Extremely so.

On returning from a dog walk & an amazing hot chocolate (all the trimmings) with a good friend it struck me just how much of a wreckage one child can make in a morning if not watched more carefully.

All is made okay though as Daughter, age 3, tells me “Mummy, I’m a specialist car buyer.”

Thank you, super-catchy radio advertisements.