Elation

When I was pregnant with my second baby I felt so detached from the whole process; so differently from my first glorious, glowing pregnancy that I worried so often that I would still feel no connection to the baby when he or she was placed on my chest for the first time. I couldn't comprehend just how I would be able to love another living creature as much as I loved my daughter. I couldn't imagine feeling that completeness of emotion be shared between two.

Now, as I sit, as I so often do - or at least as often as I get the opportunity - with my youngest daughter clasped firmly to my chest, her head resting against my cheek & her face full of innocence, laced with curiosity, yet somehow looking on with the dignified silence of someone with immeasurable wisdom - I wonder why that should be? - I feel, still, complete. I do not feel as though my love has been shared or stretched, I feel as though it has simply grown, yet all the while nothing has been taken from me. In fact I feel as though more has been given to me. 'Love' does not sum up what I feel for her & for her elder sister. 'Love' doesn't even touch upon it.

Elation.

Her fine flash of downy auburn hair against my cheek is the softest sensation I have ever felt & when I move my face to bury my mouth & nose into her scalp her scent is one so delicious & complex - one that tells me she is made of me. It is different to that of my eldest daughter in a thousand ways yet somehow the same.

As I hold her, in whichever position she is pressed against me it feels as though she fits. I was made to carry her & she was made to be held by me, first inside & now out.

Everything about both my daughters is love. I feel incredibly humbled by the love they have for me as well as the feelings that encompass me when I have them near to me & the anxieties I feel when I don't.

It is not enough to say that they are my world, but I cannot describe it any other way.

They are my world, & everything more.

Money, Power & Love.

They say that money is power, but is this true in our relationships?

I don't work. I stay home & look after the children. My other half goes to work 5 days a week & he too pays the rent & bills most months. He offers us security & in turn I [very occasionally] do a bit of dusting & cook nightly. Oh, & raise the children. I do contribute where I can but on the whole I feel powerless. I really do. I'm rarely sane.

We are in a loving relationship, we are happy, so why does the financial security that my partner provides for us cause me such emotional insecurity?

Is this my personal issue, or do lots of stay at home parents feel this way? He gives up the money he would usually spend on DVDs or whatever else it is 20 something men buy, as well as some of his social freedom. He's given up relaxing evenings for hectic bedtimes. I was all ready used to hectic bedtimes & no money to spare for myself, but I have given up my independence, the freedom to think only of myself & my children &, thinking about it, have changed my entire life. I don't get to interact with adults every day. My brain turns to mush. I think that we both give a lot, but I feel as though I have lost a lot more. Control & sanity being the two main casualties.

Can I change this?

If I have a job, & so money, will this be power?

Empowerment & Getting Naked: Bedmates?

What is it that I don't like about strip clubs?

Last night my partner went on a stag do. Of course, they went to the strippers. I knew this would happen, I laid down my rules & he had permission, yet why, now do I have this awful uneasy feeling eating away at me?

What is it? 

Why are there no male strip clubs? Why don't women feel that they need to seek out this form of 'entertainment' to such an extent as men do? When I think of all the sorts of riske entertainment for women, all that pops into my head is stuff like the Chippendales & male strippers on hen dos with lots of drunk women shrieking & giggling like school-girls, taking it as a great laugh & a hoot & not thinking much more of it, but when the roles are reversed, when it's blokes going to so called 'Gentlemen's clubs' & so on I think of ego & chauvinism. Men don't hoot & giggle, men leer & lick their lips...Don't they?

This is the image I have engrained in my mind but I'm not sure it's entirely like that. I would like to find out & you know what, I think one day soon I may do that. I would like to see if their is any truth behind the notion that these girls find stripping empowering, or do they only find this empowering because society has taught them that?

But back to my question - is it this that bothers me? Men & women are very different creatures indeed, that is for sure. I'd say that I'm quite a sexual person, more so than quite a lot of my friends, at least. I can be excruciatingly shy in a room full of people, but between the sheets (or wherever else) I have usually found I'm fairly confident once I get into my stride, as it were. Anyway, no more detail or else you all who don't wish to know will start bleeding from the eyes. My point is that I have always felt secure because I have always felt I have most control & confidence over the sexual aspect of a relationship. I am by no means beautiful or sexy in the conventional top-shelf magazine sense, yet never has this held me back. I think the reason that I feel least secure about my man striding into a strip club & getting an eyeful of a room full of magazine-beautiful & -sexy women in all their glory is because by choosing to walk right in there he is not only accepting society's warped view of what 'a woman should be' (whether he realises it or not) but wolfing it down like the very different creature that he is. Simultaneously, he is removing an enormous chunk of the control I hold & allowing me to fall back into the clutches of my insecurities. 

But what about me? Why should there be no other aspect of life in which I can feel empowered? Now I'm certainly not suggesting that a woman should not have empowerment through sex - hell, sex is more than enjoyable & should be for both parties - but what I am saying is that of course that shouldn't be my sole source of satisfaction, & because - at the moment - I am so insecure about magazine-perfect women taking the control from me then I have done exactly the same as my partner & accepted society's view of 'what a woman should be'. If it is true that strippers only do their job because they are accepting our society's harsh terms, rather than questioning them (I said if, remember, I am yet to find this out first hand) then am I not just a stripper with a more specific & non-paying audience? Hell, if I'm going to feel these insecurities, I'd at least like to get a bit of cash for my troubles.

It's a vicious fucking circle (not a vicious fucking-circle, that's an entirely different blog post).

I don't know what to do or think. I'm working mostly on assumptions, deductions & what I've seen in the media. Anxiety doesn't help matters either. Can anyone enlighten me here?

Of Single Days Gone By

Perfect. Everything about his personality is what I would wish for in any friend, & any potential bed-mate. He’s intelligent & talks in a tone edged with wisdom. He is clearly a thinker. Though what is it that doesn’t sit quite right when he tells me with enthusiasm: “Oh, absolutely! You’re so right there – nobody else can make you happy, it’s down to the individual!”?

I struggle to tell whether his zeal comes from finding someone who shares his opinion on self-fulfilment, or whether he is aiming to flatter me.

“You seem as though you have it all figured out.” he says, with just a hint of awe that softly jabs the pit of my stomach. I feel embarrassed. I do have it figured out, don’t I? 

On paper, he is perfect. He ticks all the boxes. So why, oh why, can’t I appreciate how pleasant our evening has been; how refreshing it is to speak with someone who is on the same wavelength? He clearly is, yet I constantly have this underlying feeling that something is missing. He puts me at ease, yet I think that ease is exactly the problem. He does not challenge me. I feel no stir of apprehension. There is no niggle of doubt that this person may prove me wrong. He would simply concur & discuss the point further, as though it were fact.

I’d like to explore. I’d love for someone to have a point of view that was new & exciting. Sure, you have to share opinions & views on some things – there must be common ground – but wouldn’t it be wonderful for someone to come along & say “Well Chlo, what about this…” & completely blow my mind, or even divulge something that would get me a little riled – just a little though.

Love Buggers Everything Up

Occasionally I think I’d like to be able to sod off to somewhere obscure whenever I feel like it. I’d like to feel free to roam & not hurt anybody in the process, possibly to pop to the shops & indulge in pointless purchases, such as sparkly wellies or exotic fruit I’ll never eat. Unfortunately, I cannot do these things because I am in a relationship, personally & financially with a man. What is more is that I am in love.

Love buggers everything up.

Love means joy & laughter, & a feeling of co-dependence which is hugely comforting, but love also means one cannot be selfish, one has to compromise & one has to share. One has to be very considerate indeed & often one will hurt, & be hurt.

If I were to find myself, for whatever reason, without my loved one then I should like to think I’d be wise enough not to love again.

I should like to be an individual, an independent soul. That is not to say that looking back on my life I wouldn’t have wanted to find love with someone, just that from this point forward, if I were to end up alone then I should be content to have loved & been loved, but no more. I should like to live my life & no longer feel that I should be searching. I’d like to say that when I met my loved one, my search was not temporarily halted, but it was the end, no matter what the outcome of the love we have. 

Perhaps I should like a companion, where, because when repeated the right amount of times with the right or occasionally the wrong person sex can lead to love, sex is not necessary & therefore there is no danger of love being on the cards at all. Sex could be reserved for flings & wild nights with people I’d have no other connection with or perhaps sex could quite simply be forgotten.

Of course, the love I speak of here is far-removed from the love I have for my children. The love I feel for them is innate, it is how they survive & it is born out of instinct. I feel it in the very pit of my stomach, rooted so deeply that nothing could tear it away. When this love is tested I feel it pulling & I feel a ferocious passion & intense strength that allows me to protect it & to protect them. I have a grip of it as tightly as it has a grip of me & it cannot be broken for anything. This is a love I will always feel & will stay with me until my grave.

Pointedly, though, my children were born out of the emotional bonds I had with others.

The love we feel for a person is, in many ways, rather indulgent. I see it more as a side effect of intelligence than something born of instinct. Our basic instinct is to reproduce, & sometimes I feel as though in some ways ‘ever-lasting love’ is something counter-intuitive. We will always know our children, because they are part of us, but how well do we really know another who is not related to us? Sure, a relationship is good for us in the sense that we can doubly protect & support our children, but it hardly seems so necessary as this instinctual love we have for our offspring, & often can addle a person so much as to have a negative effect on family life. Love for a person, someone you really do not know or have any link or bond with except perhaps that of shared experience over time seems strange.

For me, this is a love that comes from the whole torso. I feel it as an energy that consumes my body & compels me to swathe the other in this energy, in my arms, in my love. It is an unspoken, mutual bond that when tested will not always make you fierce, sometimes it will make you weak & worrisome. It is a gentler love, linking also to our need to feel a connection & this connection is one which can be tugged to & fro by both parties. This is also a love which can be destroyed or discarded. It is a love which can change.

If I were to find myself, for whatever reason, without my loved one then I should like to think I’d be wise enough not to love again, but the flaw in my plan is this:

I am human, & I love.

On Losing My Footing & The Climb Ahead

This time last year I was single & working (fairly) hard. I was the manager of a cafe, & felt more or less on top of life, except that I had nobody to share it with & tended to eat a lot of cake instead. These were things I was working on, though strangely my weight wasn't much of a knock on my confidence - I had some very pretty dresses, & was very 'out there' in said pretty dresses. I'd joined match.com & had had some dates. It was all pretty fun but I definitely remember hungering for more than carrot cake. In a very cliched way I wanted to love & to be loved. It was all I could really think about & I imagined it would be a long & arduous journey to hunt down a man of worth.

It was around this time that I decided to enrol on a climbing course. Though I was mainly motivated by the fact that it was always something I had wanted to try but never got round to, I have to admit that I had half-jokingly expressed the idea that I might date a man who was courageous & bold - ie a mountaineer. In hindsight someone had clearly been spiking the chocolate cake, but who was I to know?

I went to the classes with my good friend, & then boss, L, & enjoyed it thoroughly on the climbing front, though our instructor was disappointingly skinny & boyish, not at all heroic. Never mind.

I never got to finish the course, though a few weeks later I met (via match) a man who I would soon fall for, who would love me & who I could love without any fear. Though he wasn't a mountaineer, he was, & is, everything I had wished for, not in the particular form I had imagined, but in every form I have needed. If it was a crap novel he would be 'the one'.

Fast forward to today. I live with 'the one' & what is more we have a precious baby girl. Not long after we met, we 'fell pregnant'. I'm not sure how you 'fall' pregnant but that's what happened. I fell in love & then I fell pregnant. Next I sort of fell off the face of the earth. After all that falling I'm now attempting to do a bit of climbing, back into the world & to become the woman I was a year ago. After finding love so easily I had no idea that all that stuff I previously had & finding my footing in the crevasse between family life & adult life would actually hardest things to achieve.

Its all about finding strength & balance, being agile & enduring the particularly tough bits as well as having good mental control.

I suppose the point is that it is easy to think 'What is life, if you have nobody to share it with?' but we should also bear in mind the thought 'What is love, if you have nothing to share?'

Day 4 of 366: Love & Junk.

Four days in (well, I started a day late, so technically three) & I'm enjoying actually having something to think about! Posting a picture every day has got me pondering about what is important to me & what I have surrounding me. Currently, I haven't really left my dining room to take a photo. Since having a jolly good post-Christmas tidy it has become my little safe haven & I like it! I have my laptop & my radio & Eldest has her toys & plenty of space to make mess. I may have mentioned before that I don't really watch TV & so when I lived alone I didn't have one. The man, of course has a gigantic one ("Whheeeyyy!") as men do, which now dominates the living room & so it makes me happy to have my own tranquil room & to be surrounded by things I love.

I wouldn't say I'm shallow or materialistic but I love stuff. Junk, mainly (pretty junk), as well as meaningful objects & I do tend to get quite attached to & sentimental about all my shit. As I was taking a look around I realised that amongst all my stuff-I-love I don't actually have any photographs, except for the four that I keep on the notice board. I have a hard-drive full of photos, of course I do, but I have no framed family shots, nothing like that. Besides the fact that we're just not that kind of family - I don't think we've ever had a photo of us all together, & not through lack of love - I can't see much point in displaying photos of people who are so deeply rooted in my heart & mind & I find no creativity in bland, mass-produced frames bearing posed, fake-smile pictures propped up on mantelpieces & the such. I much prefer my tatty, pin-punctured snaps which sit as comfortably on the notice board as they do in my soul.

Photos, are still important to me & I love nothing more than to look through ancient photos of relatives & remark at the crazy hairstyles & fashion; to see who gave so  & so their nose; to be amazed at how much is passed on from generation to generation & inevitably I will look at the stuff that surrounds these people & say "Oh gosh, do you remember that sofa? I bounced on it so much it eventually gave in!" or "You used to love that Teddy, Eldest has it now." & that is why, for me, stuff is important & integral to who I am. Memories are held in the stuff I surround myself with & the possessions of my loved ones & I hope that this will be the same for my children. Every time I look at an ink picture done by my Mum, or a pencil topper made by my Great Aunt & the various other things which I have 'acquired' from them over the years it reminds me of the wonderful innate creativity the women of my family possess. When I visit my Grandfather I see the (horrid) antique porcelain figures sat on his mantelpiece & I am a four year old child again, peering as closely as possible at all the tiny details on the women's dresses & feeling the spiky, delicate ruffles of the men's tunics. This, for me, is precious.

 Above: Dad & I. I look just like Eldest here. Shame we were at the hunt (not something I approve of)

Below Left: My oldest friend & I at my 6th? Birthday. Below Middle: Eldest & my hand, conkering. Below Right: Mum & I, before the races. Swish.

Confessions of a Total Dick Head

Since finding myself responsible for not one, but two ever-needing & ever-wanting children it has become a daily ritual for me to have an extravagantly long shower, during which interruptions are completely ignored. Eldest whinging? Baby wailing? Not my problem. I should probably add that I make sure all their needs are met before showering, I don't just ditch them & run, so any complaints are simply attention based & can wait for half an hour.

Shower time is adult time (not like that), it is brain time, it is time for me to think. You know, like wot real people without kidz can do, init.

Usually shower time comes complete with it's own playlist. If my iPod were picked up by a stranger they'd be forgiven for thinking that it belonged to a woman in her mid forties rather than one in her early twenties (apart from a few give-away tracks) but that, my friends, is just how I roll.

Today I was listening to a spot of Beautiful South. The track that got me thinking was 'Prettiest Eyes'. It is one of my favourites. If you aren't familiar you can check it out here. It is basically a song from the perspective of someone who has been with a woman for 60 years. It got me pondering about the nature of relationships, particularly my own (of course) & wondering whether I'd ever experience long lasting love & security in the same way in which older generations, particularly my grandparents' generation seem to experience but which our society & culture seems not to allow room for.

Today, we are told that we have more freedom. We are told that we can have it all & we seek things like fairy-tale happiness, yet it seems to me that increasingly less people have long lasting, happy relationships. Do we set ourselves up for disappointment?

I look at my Mother's parents who have been married for 50 years, this year. They have always been happy, as far as I can tell. My Mum always tells of how she has never seen them argue. My Granny always tells her that that was because they never let her see them argue. This speaks volumes to me. Communication & honesty with each other & to yourself is key, there would be problems if you didn't occasionally quarrel but to find long-lasting happiness through this is exactly what I'd like for my future, but like anything in life, a relationship that lasts is something that requires hard-work & zeal from all involved & if there are children then it is important to think of their happiness first, as you would in all other aspects of life.

Looking at my mother, who is in her mid (to late, ahem) forties - & from whom my taste in music mainly comes - she is currently settled. When we talk about relationships she always jokes that she 'has been through quite a few men' to get to my step-father. I doubt she has been through as many as me, in my notably less years, though I never point this out to her! My Step-Father is, in my opinion (& I'm fairly sure in hers too) her perfect match. I love my Father, but I would never wish for my Mother to be with him. I was young when they divorced, only one year old, but I know in my heart that they aren't compatible, in fact I find it hard to imagine that they were ever a couple. My Step-Father & Mum have been together for about 15 years (I think), but they only married four years or so ago. For some reason I feel that there will never be any reason for them not to grow old together.

The example set by these people in my life is one that I find admirable & somewhat awe-inspiring. I want that for me & I hope that I am headed in the right direction. I have made mistakes. What I am about to share with you I have not shared with anyone outside of my circle of friends & I am certainly not proud, nor can I find any justification for my actions, but bear with me - it bears relevance & is only partly a selfishly placed confession.

My last relationship lasted about a year & a half & was with a guy who I had been acquainted with since college. He was very closed emotionally, but basically a nice, fun guy. I think that I fell in love with him, perhaps in hindsight not in a deep sense, but it was love nevertheless & he loved me too, but he was incapable of saying so. At first, 'the wall' was something that drew me to him - I have always liked a challenge - but as our relationship became more serious & we moved in together the very thing that drew me to him initially was what I came to resent. I couldn't break down 'the wall', not fully & I became increasingly insecure. It wasn't his fault, it was just how he was, but looking back I worry as to how he will ever truly be happy if he can't express such crucial emotions. We became more & more distant from each other. I think that we were both equally to blame for how the relationship deteriorated but the end came when I slept with somebody else. More than once. I'm not sure he even knows now that I was cheating, I wasn't big enough to own up to it, but he wasn't stupid. He left & that was that. I have never felt particularly sad that the relationship ended, it had most certainly run its course, but I feel ashamed that it took me such a cruel & selfish act to realise that it wasn't worth putting in the effort any more. I justified my actions at the time because I felt hurt & rejected, humiliated even, but it was always clear that I was, for want of a more eloquent phrase, just a total dick head.

My point is that I have been hurt & what is worse, I have hurt people along the way & though I feel remorse for some of the more selfish things I have done in the past, I don't regret them because I have always learned from my experiences. I have learned what I want to be in life (faithful, accomplished, hard-working, loved) & equally what I do not want to be (a total dick head).

I think what people lose sight of, in today's 'instant satisfaction' society is that a relationship, like anything, is something that requires input. People chase the dreams of looking beautiful, becoming rich or famous & having a fairytale love, but that simply isn't the case. I'm sure we all know the reasons for all these fucked-up delusions people of our generation suffer & the arguments as to why it is probably wrong yet so difficult to change, so I shan't drag it up, but I think that if we are consciously wanting to change something about ourselves for the better then what I have learned in my relatively few years of dating & loving is that to get more out of anything you must put more in, & what is more you must put it in to the right places. It is nothing profound, it is basic common sense, but I believe that it's something that from time to time, we can all lose sight of.

As for now, I feel very lucky. I have a relationship with someone who is worth every last scrap of effort. I also have two beautiful girls who deserve a happy upbringing, or at least a Mum who isn't a total dick head.

I bloody love Christmas me - though not usually in October!

Today, after three hours of travelling on trains (more on that & the rude commuters of Britain later), I finally have got round to making some Christmas bits & bobs. I have spent the last hour or so snipping & sewing & it feels good! (With the exception of an aching back - so blog & dinner break happening now!)

Here's a quick sneak peek at what kind of things I'll be making. Goodness knows if I'll sell anything - craft fair tomorrow & I plan on popping some of these lovelies on the Little Pea Green Etsy Shop - but if not it'll save me making more for our own tree!

Last week I was sat in our living room, minding my own business when I suddenly got a subtle sniff of something like a pine scent. I think it was the faint aroma coming from a little lavender bag which Daughter had found & claimed as her own for a while but was now stuffed down the back of the sofa & forgotten, but my brain was obviously in a jovial mood & so interpreted this as a whiff of festivity. I became overwhelmingly excited about the impending arrival of winter & the festive season. I cannot wait to see the living room transformed with bunting & decorations (I am quite the traditionalist so lots of rustic reds, greens & golds); for the scent of the tree & the excitement as the presents build up beneath it; for the cursing every time someone kneels down & gets pine needles angrily poked into their knees; for an open fire roaring during the day & then it's embers gently roasting chestnuts on an evening; to buy pointless & rich foods & to gorge on them with absolutely no shame, just pure revelry, swilling it all down with a slug of Irish cream liqueur or a hot coffee cheekily spiked with a shot of brandy, whatever the time of day.

I could go on forever & ever about the best bits of Christmas but, this year, the thing I cannot wait to have our brand new family in the midst of all this toasty-warmth & cosiness.

I bloody love Christmas, me. Even the cheesy songs.

P.S. - apologies for getting so excited so soon, I don't usually do such silly things but I am due to have a baby in one month & as I am prescribing myself one month of focusing on nothing but the baby & sleep everything like this is getting pushed forward one month, so I am living as though it were the 17th November! Therefore I find this festive fanaticism is entirely justified!

Did a little dance; Made a little Love[Owl]...

This week, besides over-eager consumption of Ovaltine, we have been trying to spend time - real meaningful time. Therefore packing has taken a back seat (where I expect it to stay until about two evenings before we're due to move when I will be frantically throwing random objects into unsuitable containers) & instead we have had some lovely activities on the go.

I finished my previous job on Thursday & all though I have been a little busier than usual with preparation for the opening of the new/old cafe that I shall be working at (new/old because I worked there for the previous owner who also happens to be a wonderful friend too), it really has felt blissful to have a weekend all to ourselves.

On Thursday I got all too excited about the choice of coffee for the new cafe (celebratory dancing & a wide grin in anticipation of a coffee tasting on Monday - though I will have to spit so as not to create a hyper child!).

On Friday I made a little Love Owl (#1)

Daughter was quite taken with him, but alas he was purposefully made to sell ~ here ~ so we decided that we should make our own, for her to treasure.

I think that I shall certainly treasure him in future - he's a joint effort, Mummy did the outline & Daughter chose her colours & [with a little guidance & tips on how not to brutally destroy a paint brush] gave them to him. She then, of course, signed her mark - a backwards 'E', followed by a forwards 'E' (clearly done on-purpose...) - & I duly dated it 2011 & made note of her being age 3. Certain to say there was much pride from both of us.

The weekend held a trip so see some lesser-seen family & some much appreciated fish & chips, gobbled with greedy delight in the perfect warmth of Friday evening sunshine.

There was shopping on Saturday... a pram was chosen... very exciting... & today, well today we decadently layed in until our stomachs decided that it was time for pancakes (crepes) & later took an amble in our wellies to get much-needed supplies for yet another indoor picnic.

This evening consisted of me taking apart of my coffee grinder. I now have rather oily hands & a lovely aroma but best of all the cleanest coffee grinder in all of the North East of England at the very least!

This weekend was one of the loveliest & I feel more than lucky that a lot of times recently have been some of the loveliest.

My man is strong & loving; My daughter is short, perfectly-formed & cherished; My bump is petite, all in front & contains a healthy babe. How could I be more blessed?