Inked

I love that city so much, I got its symbol tattooed on my legs.

Now every time I get a glimpse of them I am reminded and smile.

E V Oh Oh

Growing so quickly...

A lifetime ago

I was trawling through my external hard drive today, looking for one of my favourite images (a picture of my fleur de lis tattoos), when I got stuck looking at a bunch of self portraits from a couple of years ago.

I have to say, it all seems like a lifetime ago.
And like another person (probably because I was trying to be).

It an odd sensation looking at them with fresh eyes because I can appreciate them more and for different reasons. Each self portrait was inspired by something, and most of my favorites, whether technically good photos or not, signify huge events or emotions that were going on at the time. I can remember exactly how I felt when I took each picture and processed it. I can remember why the lyrics they are so often named from were meaningful to me. I remember if I was crying, if I was happy or whether I was depressed. 

Anyway, thought I would share a few of my favs here:

"Boudoir"

First self portrait (although, its really nothing like me) I was really proud of... Even though I edited it like crazy trying to get the lighting etc right.

"Honestly"

This one means so freaking much to me. It was after my marriage had broke up and I felt like my world was falling apart. I had sat down to take a self portrait since I was doing 365days at the time and felt i had to and I ended up just sitting there sobbing for hours.

"The lovers tiff"

Looks darker and more sinister than it actually was. I decided to take a series of photos in which I killed myself within the picture. It was so much fun to do except the bathroom stunk of tomato sauce and soya sauce for about a week. My flatmate at the time also had some serious questions about why there was a knife and a bottle of sauce at the bathroom door when he got home.

"About you now"

I love this one for reasons I can't even begin to explain.

"A fond farewell"

The last picture I took before I really announced my pregnancy with Zander. I look so different now. So freaking destroyed. When i named it I knew my body would change, I jsut wasn't expecting it to be that much and that painful.

"The Enemy has won"
(Mint Chicks lyrics)
Took this at the beginning of my second round of 365 and a few days into taking medication to combat my depression. I felt like I was going nuts.

"Who knew"

Pink lyrics. It was ending and I knew it, I could see it. he didn't.

The first major war wound

ZJ had a little mishap on the trek down to get the mail yesterday afternoon. Typically, it seemed to upset us more than it upset him.

By the way, hes not upset in this picture because of the wound, hes annoyed because I won't give him my very expensive camera to play with. So selfish of me i know.

My beautiful daughter is two weeks old today, and I'm feeling suicidal.

Its been two weeks and sometimes it feels like its been forever and other times it feels like its gone by quicker than a day.

Today? I'm feeling suicidal.
Really suicidal.
So much so I broke down into tears and contemplated slitting my wrists. Luckily (?) for me I'm also too much of a coward, I don't think I can cut deep enough. I don't think I could handle the pain (hilarious considering everything I've bee through pain wise in the past 19 months). So it aint going to happen. Besides the fact I love Simon and my babies too much, oh my gosh I love them all so much, the thought that Simon couldn't possibly afford a funeral for me has passed through my mind a few times. Har har.

That, and as I will go on to explain, my brain is still switched on to tell me that its NOT ok to let myself feel this way or at least continue feeling this way. So I'm writing it all down. To note. To remember.

Publicly, I'm sharing this because no one ever talks about this stuff. They say its ok to do so, you know... on the adverts on tv and various posters for support groups and what not. But really its not ok to talk about. You feel like if you do people will always look at you different. Everyone assumes the worst, assumes you are a powder keg about to blow almost always. Assumes its full on depression or PPD. And if you walk into somewhere and you are happy and showing it, people automatically assume its fake. Or like in the past, when I've tried to share my feelings people (people who probably read this even) assume I'm just looking for attention and mentally note that yes, yes indeed I am the fuck up they always thought I was and make that clear to me. Or they get angry at you for not saying anything sooner. Its no win sometimes.

I've suffered from mental illness in the past. I spent 10 years of my short 27 years clinically depressed. 9 of those years I was too scared or too deep within it to do anything about it. I know how it is. I'm not ashamed of it and I also know I'm not at that stage again.

Do I think its PPD? No... I don't. Not yet anyway. This is a one off so far. Maybe if I let it fester and I don't keep talking about it, it may turn out that way though.

So why am I feeling this way today?
Simple. I'm me and I'm tired. No...scratch that, I'm exhausted. Im also hideously starving.

I'm a new mum again. I have a newborn in the house again.

I have this obvious [and not to mention, hypocritical] guilt about formula feeding. Again. I feel shit about my body (even though I'm already a kg or so past my Evie Pre Preggo Weight). Again. I feel like I'm not doing enough. Always. I feel like I have 101 things I should do and achieve today, tomorrow and before I go back to a job which I feel I suck at now, and I'm not getting any of them done. And even when I tick of something on the list I'm too down on myself to be pleased about it. I don't cut myself any slack. I push myself too hard. I expect greatness when I can't possibly achieve it. My poor partner gets so frustrated and asks why I won't let him help me with everything. Why? Because I exhaust myself in an effort to make myself feel needed, wanted and loved. Its my own little hangup.

In other words, I'm a woman, and a new mama. And a perfectionist one at that.

I'm pushing myself, well and truly, too hard. And the rational part of my brain, it knows this. I need to cut myself some serious slack and stop waiting for people to give me permission to do it.

Its why I'm writing it down and sharing it. Maybe if you are a new mum and you are feeling this way you can sit back, breathe and think... ok. Talk. Reach out and get help. Get through it. It might be a once off, it might not be. Either way its ok, its not the end of the world and you don't have to feel ashamed about it.

Comments have been disabled for this post. Please don't email me, tweet me, fb me, call or text me about it asking me if I'm ok. Its not an attention seeking exercise, and truly I am ok. We are ok. 99.5% of the time I'm actually happy and doing fairly great considering everything going on.
In an hour things will be different, tomorrow things will be different. Infact, by the time dinner rolls around, the kids have napped and possibly me too, I will be myself again.

And I'm going to keep talking, and if I feel I need it, get help. Because its nothing to be ashamed of.

♥ list

After yesterday's somewhat heavy post, its time for a bit of lighthearted awesomeness.

Simon has been making some awesome bagels lately.

Soo. good.

Kinda really liking this.

Having alot of fun designing these lately.

The lovely Ligeia

'Mulled' By Mela.de.gypsy.
One of my most favourite Flickr members.

Rhiannon's Flower by Milllillyrose on Etsy.
Also check out her flickr page.

P.s Thanks for the positive feedback through various channels for the post yesterday. I truly meant it as a way of saying its ok to feel like shit occasionally and I'm glad most of ya'll got that. Sorry to the one or two who I may have worried severely though!

Zander + Winter sunshine = Cuteness.

Trying to take pictures of him these days isnt easy, hes so fast! and he WANTS the camera.

The Bottlefeeder in Room 1

So my stay in hospital was an interesting one. I really thought this time I would be more prepared, more mentally able to cope with any questions, looks, having to give reasons 1 millon times to the 1 million different staff. But in all honesty, I really wasn't... Not in the slightest. Infact in some ways I think I was less able to cope. Like the past 19 months of judgement have worn me down to next to no coping reserves.

After the utter crap that was the recovery room, I didn't hope for much getting to the wards. My midwife had told me a few weeks prior to the birth that Auckland National Woman's was a 'baby friendly' place and therefore no longer supported formula feeding, so in preparation, we had brought everything of our own including sterilizing tablets and a container to put them in. But of course we still needed water and boiled water to make up the bottles so Simon went off as soon as we got wheeled into place to organize things and figure out where to get this boiled water from. We had NOT brought our own kettle from home becuase we assumed there would be a way of acquiring boiled water at a hospital. After a short time he was back with us saying 'this place is weird!'. He explained that he wasn't hopeful for help either after what had just happened, but the first nurse he came across and had explained what he wanted to had actually pointed him not only in the direction of the 'Formula Feeding Room' (a locked room where the ONLY kettle in the ward is and bottle feeding supplies are) but also said 'oh and you will need sterlization tablets etc..' and made a move to get them for him. When Simon explained we had everything and what we had been told the nurse apparently had looked a bit shocked and said 'jeez we are not that bad now are we!?'.

Yeah guys, you are.

The first night I was there was kind of horrid. After a CS you are not really able to move for a few hours but of course being a 'baby friendly' hospital, baby is also roomed in with you. Which is fabulous except if your baby starts crying you cannot do anything except ring for the nurses and midwives and hope someone turns up shortly to help. The first midwife I called gave me this long stare as i told her baby was hungry and i needed a bottle made up. Eventually she sorted out the supplies but instead of using our formula went and got some of the pre mixed stuff and used that. It requires no boiling water of course (which is down the other end of the ward behind that locked door) and just needs heating up. But she wasn't friendly about it at all and immediately I started feeling bad.

I sat and berated myself for being so selfish. And then I sat berating myself for berating myself over it.
The midwife who was actually meant to be looking after me came in with her helper not long after to sort me out and make sure i was recovering all ok. Round two of the 'I'm bottle feeding conversations' ensued when I asked if they could fill my flask up with boiled water so I could make bottles myself. The midwife went off somewhere and the helper asked me if i wanted to use the pre mixed stuff as it was easier and I was shocked. 'But you dont support formula feeding here' to which the helper said 'well some of us don't but we dont say anything about it.' before walking out. The midwife returned shortly after and actually asked me what my reasons for bottlefeeding were so that she could 'tell the others to shut them up'.

What? They are talking about me? Are they sitting their reffering to me as the 'Bottlefeeder in Room 1'?
I explained to her all the while thinking 'I shouldn't HAVE to do this!'. I was angry, and I was ashamed.

All those feelings from earlier came rushing back and I began to cry - which, I think, made the midwife feel guilty and so off she went to 'shut the others up' I presume.

I had wanted to ask for milk suppressants that night, because I figured they wouldn't offer them to me (and I was right) but I actually was too scared. I was too scared to ask for medication to make myself more comfortable. Isn't that stupid? When I did finally get the courage up to ask for them by the way, I was told it was too late and I should of asked the day baby was born. I would have to deal with the consequences.

The next day was abysmal also. I was feeling pretty low already though and I got sick of explaining myself every two seconds which made those low feelings even worse. I got comments and I got the looks.
 I really started feeling like a second rate citizen. Like I didn't deserve being cared for.

I realise now that I'm obviously still hung up with guilt about formula because from that moment on I really started punishing myself. I stopped using the pain meds as much sub consciously and I didn't ring the bell for the nurses/midwives unless I was totally desperate for help. I would do more than I should of moving wise because I didn't want to explain again and again or have them sigh as they went off to find boiled water. I didnt wan't the bell to be rung and then look up at the screen and think 'oh its that bottlefeeder in room 1 again'.

Idiotic. I know.

By the time I had some nice supportive carers I had given up completely on the feel good about myself feelings and I was really worried about what all the hospital staff were thinking of me. I was totally paranoid.
One night a lovely tiny Indian looking midwife started working my end of the ward. She came in and saw me being a bit distressed (pain, Evie not sleeping etc) and asked if she could take Evie from me down to the nurses station for a few hours so I 'could get some rest' and since I was 'bottlefeeding and it was a quiet night it was no problem to do at all'. I was so paranoid that I actually refused. My immediate reaction was 'then they could prove I'm a lazy bottle feeder by handing my child off!'. No way, all the breastfeeders no doubt have their babies with them, I will do so to.

Eventually I ended up breaking down in front of this midwife and she was the nicest person I have ever come across in a hospital. She was angry and demanded to know who had asked me my reasons, as it really was irrelevant to anyone and non of their business. She wanted to know who had said bad stuff to me but I shut down and didn't answer.  I had to deal with these people again, I wasnt naming names. I told her in between heavy sobs how I felt I was a bad mother because I was so selfish. She listed reason after reason explaining how I wasn't.

Each night she would come in and ask to take Evie and on the third or forth offering I took her up on it. She made sure I was medicated enough and after a while she was the only one I really trusted on the ward.

I really wish I had said goodbye to her and wish I told her how much she did for me before I left. She made all the difference to surviving my stay mentally (event hough she must think I'm a crackpot for the amount of times I broke down in front of her!).

The other thing that got me about hospital was the lack of knowledge on formula feeding by the nurses and midwives. Some thought it was ok to use the Zip water for making up feeds (which I didn't). One asked if i wanted to make up a whole lot of bottle in advance and keep it in the little coffee kitchenette at the end of the hall so it was accessible (which I didn't think was a good thing to do).  Most thought it was fine to keep a small supply of boiled water in a flask in my room with the bottles but another one, when asked to let me in the locked room so I could fill my flask up, kind of told me off for doing it that way and told me that I should always always boil the kettle and let it cool for 10 minutes before making any bottle up.

I think thats what makes me angry the most about my stay - the lack of knowledge. If i wanted help breastfeeding I would of had 10 trained professionals bear down on me within seconds. If i needed help and advice for safe prepation of bottles - no one knew. That is ridiculous... and unsafe!

I kind of want to write a letter but I think it will fall on deaf ears. The whole problem with this 'baby friendly' pro breastfeeding stuff is that I think its a good thing deep down. I want it to be the social norm to breastfeed your child but I also want to have proper advice and measures in place for people that can't or don't.
Why is so difficult to have a happy and safe medium?

I don't know if we are done having kids yet. I don't know if can keep having children as I have a butload of scar tissue apparently and I'm not sure what that means for future c sections. But one of the biggest reason I may not have any more is the fact that hospital scares me now. I let it all get to me and I let them make me feel bad about myself. I let myself believe I'm a bad mother and its not a good way to start off a new child with.

My new Etsy shop

So I recently did some birth announcements for fun and I thought i would put my designs up on Etsy to sell. I'm also wanting to do some different types of prints, maybe some invitations and posters etc...when the mood strikes :)

Here is what i have up so far...

Éclair's birth story

So, I didn't do the whole labour thing with Evie. I didn't suffer through 36 hours of pain or traumatize my midwife this time around. I knew I would have a C section for this child before she was even conceived. But that doesn't mean she doesnt have her very own birth story... so here it is :)

Thursday 12th of August we were awake at 5:30am to shower and dress and get ourselves into hospital for our 7am appointment. I was feeling good but pretty nervous as it had only just dawned on me really that I would be getting sliced open in a few hours and it was kinda making me feel a bit scared. The previous weeks leading up to Evie's birth I had mostly been focusing on having my baby around and looking forward not being pregnant anymore, I had forgotten about the rest of it!

With Simon's mum in tow, we rocked up to the hospital a bit early, which was lucky as when we got to the 5th floor check in area I had been told to go to, they sent us to the wrong ward, who then proceeded to send us on to another wrong ward and if it hadn't of been for some other couple which had been on the very same wrong directioned route who pointed us in the right direction, we would of been totally lost and late.
Which in the end wouldnt of mattered as we ended up sitting around for a good 3 hours while they caught up with their surgery list. Yay.

At some point I got told to change into my hospital gowns, one hideous one with a tie only at the back of the neck and open down the back, and another with went over the top that buttoned up down the front. I also got to wear the sexiest stockings around. Because Simon's mum was with us and she couldn't come through to the prep area, I ended up sitting out in the reception in my gowned glory.. but I was so nervous I didn't really care anyway. Also they kept telling me to come out the back to meet with a range of people and go over everything about half a dozen times.

About 9am I realised I was in early labour. Typical :P I was having contractions 5 minutes apart and at around 9:30 I felt really weird and needed to go to the toilet, it was as i was coming out of there i felt something even weirder...did my waters just break a bit!?
I told one of the nurses and she told me to lay down in one of the prep rooms and fetched Simon, his mum went off to do other stuff (probably eat, so jealous!) and begin the wait for a baby.

I started getting very anxious and panicky. The anesthesiologist, a really lovely friendly woman, came in and attempted to put my IV line in. The left hand ended up clotting straight away and was useless so she had to pull that out and try the other hand. This made me even more panicky and anxious and soon i was sitting there sobbing while she wrestled a line in.

Soon it was time to go down into the operating theater, all i can really remember of the epidural insertion was how much i was shaking, how they were telling me to sit with my back arched out and how they were all trying to remember their latin studies enough to read what my tattoo on my spine said. I seriously went to my happy place at this point and tried to block everything out.

Before long i started getting very numb from the top of my chest right to my toes and they got me all positioned for the surgery. The curtains went up so we couldnt see what was happening and they tested me with ice and pinches to make sure i couldn't feel anything. The thing is.. you can feel stuff. Not like pain or anything but the tugging, pulling and definitely them touching you. Its so odd and It kinda makes me shudder thinking about it.

Simon said I should scream bloody murder when they cut me but it was only about 5 seconds after that that he looked to the surgeon and saw the reflection in her visor that it was too late, i was already open :P

I had alot of scar tissue from ZJ's messy arrival so it took them a bit longer than expected to get to Evie. I cant describe what it felt like when they pulled her out. So much pressure and tugging and then before too many seconds had passed - there she was. My beautiful baby flying in the air in front of me as they showed her to me over the curtain.

Simon went with her as they did all the measuring etc and made sure she was ok. I was kinda of worried as it took her ages to cry, but once she did she didn't really shut up :P Simon brought her back over and the nurses helped him position her on me so i could smell and kiss and touch her. It was so special and I tried my best not to cry my eyes out. Simon held her while the surgeons stitched me up and all I could keep thinking was how much she looked like ZJ, especially when in full out crying mode.

The recovery room wasn't very nice. I had nice nurses looking after me but there was a major kerfuffle over the fact i wasnt breastfeeding and being so emotional and tired I was just loosing the plot. They kept saying how hungry she was and how she needed to be fed. We hadnt realised we would need our bottles and everything for the recovery room as well so we had left that behind in the car. It was stupid of me as it was my idea to do that and i KNOW what Auckland hospital are like about bottle feeding. Simon ended up having to get changed quickly and run down to the car to grab everything. Meanwhile nurses kept coming in and out saying how starving Evie was and how i needed to feed her right then. I lost the plot and started bawling my eyes out. The lady next bed over was trying to breastfeed but her baby wouldn't latch. I heard htem telling her it was ok and that babies didnt actually need to be fed much right away and it would all be fine. Why the double standards for me?

Both my midwife later and a couple of nurses on the ward i stayed in mentioned they could of just rung up to the ward for a bottle to be sent down. And anyway..they had all the tuff there as well.

Simon returned but by this point I was utterly beside myself. I couldnt even sit up so i couldn't feed Evie myself and I asked Simon to do it. I was dissapointed. Another baby I missed out on the first bottle with.
I don't care what anyone says but its a pretty strong bonding moment, especially those first few feeds and i felt horrible about it.

It wasn't until I was settled into the wards that i got to really spend some time with Evie but it was so worth the wait. She hardly cried, and was so alert just looking around at the world. I will never forget those first few moments if just staring into her eyes no matter how many years pass.

So thats it, thats how the little Éclair made her entrance into the world on the 12 of August 2010.

♥ list

Troy's hair! Only lasted a day or two but it was awesome.

 This cool Threadless tee

Weird, but kinda love it.
Thanks for your Heart - Zombie Inspired Anatomical Ribcage Necklace

These are kind of cool.

My new birth announcement range for sale on Etsy
... loving designing these!

Can I has?

Éclair - one week old today

Checking out his little sis

I'm not sure he likes her much but hes polite to her...its me who is wearing the hate at the moment.

Btw, he is such a dude. Check out that pose.

Of all the 36 alternatives..

Found this on my sugar packet the morning I was about ready to break in hospital...


It seriously could not have been more fitting to my mood if it tried.

Hospital wasn't easy for me, there was the no breastfeeding thing which sucked (har har), but also just being away from Simon and Zander and feeling lonely was starting to get to me.

Luckily the same day mum and Jody took ZJ with them and Simon was able to come out and spend most of the day with Evie and I in hospital. It was really lovely. A nurse put a 'shh mum and baby are resting' sign on the door so no visitors or doctors came in and we were all just able to relax.

I really truly needed it. It recharged me.

First few days

I have alot to blog about. The operation, the recovery room, being the bottle feeding woman in a 'baby friendly' (read: 'if you use formula we wont support you in the slightest with it hospital'), the fact im going to be launching some birth announcement and invitation templates to sell on Etsy very shortly (like I don't have enough to do, I go and make more work for myself) and what its like with two kids home under two in the first few days.

But... well.. I have two children under two, who surprisingly are both asleep right now but i doubt that is going to last long :P

So, instead I will share two pictures with you :)

♥ list

I want one of these to help with C section recovery.
But its a bit too expensive for me.

 Love love love Charm City Cakes cakes.

Seriously...How awesome is this decal by Ivybee?
(now I just need a macbook...)

The Most Dangerous Plaything by SadandBeautiful.

 Thinking about getting something like this to honor my babes.

Thinking alot lately of people and places far away.. and possibilities.

Introducing Evie

Just a quick post to say...

Evie Claire Peterson




Born Thursday 12th at 10:50AM via CS. 3.2kg.
Everyone safe, well and happy ...and gladly home now!!

More pics to come, when we have settled.

Today.

5:52 AM, up [almost] dressed and about to get going into hospital! Apparently I'm having a baby today!!
See ya'll when I get out of the joint (probably 4-5 days). Please check with Simon or Mum if you need any details about visiting at hospital and hopefully you will see pics soonish.

Some things about my son

Some things about Zander:

• Eat can eat spicier food than his dad.
• He really likes gumbo and enchiladas ...and seemed to like Jambalaya. Infact spicy food is one of the only things that doesn't end up on the floor. This secretly makes me insanely happy as I love to cook [and only really good at] spicy dishes and Simon doesnt like or can't eat them.
• He eats more weetbix in the mornings than I do. Hes 18 months old dude.
• He doesn't really say many english words but he talks a whole lot in a language we just don't understand. Hes made up a few of his own signs for things too. Like he tries to click his fingers and holds his hand/arm out and that means 'cat'. 
• His first real word is 'Light' which is weird since Simon had a dream that his first word would be 'lightbulb'.  His sign for light is hand outspread arm stretched towards ceiling :P
• He things me raising my eyebrows up and down quickly is hilarious. Totally and utterly hilarious.
• He is very routined and likes things in order.
  In the morning after he is dressed and nappy changed, we walk down the hallway and he gestures to all the things hes not allowed. For example he will point at the doors I have to close because hes not allowed in those rooms (bathroom, toilet, Julians room...). Then we get to the lounge and he will sign for light, so we turn those on. He will then proceed to pick up the things like remotes hes not really allowed to play with and hand them to me. And he will gesture at the baby jail to be put up. And gesture to the cat's bowls signing 'cat' and watch while i feed them, then to his high chair for breakfast. All while generally smiling like a maniac for doing a good job.
  Should I be worried about this behavior!?
• He loves to dance. He dances to almost any advert if it has a jingle. He will dance to the food TV Ready Steady Cook advert. Sometimes, when hes really getting into it, he will turn in circles and clap with his hands up by his shoulder. Its hilarous.
• In the afternoons after his nap, he is generally always in a snotty mood and he doesnt like to communicate or even look at you. Theres only one way of solving this mood and that is a weak warm milk milo, his Special Treats (see next point) and the Daddy Chair (Simon sitting on the floor with legs crossed and Zander sitting on him).
• Every afternoon Simon gives ZJ a 'Special Treat'. Its very exciting.
  All it is, is a peice of bread with the crusts cut off and into soldiers. Not toasted, nothing on it.. just bread cut into rectangle shapes. Seriously.
• Hes only just figured out that sitting or laying quietly is actually an ok way to pass time. Sometimes if im watching tv, all beached whale like, he will climb up and cuddle with me and watch too. Or sometimes all of us dogpile on the floor and watch. Its nice.
• Hes really getting into reading. This week he has started getting me a book (usually one of the Favourites) and climbs up next to me, shuffles his bum into my side getting all close and we read the book. 
• When we don't listen to him, or he wants our attention, he hits the TV. Its very annoying and frustrating... especially since the TV is expensive and NOT OURS.

Monday morning yo, and its all happening this week

1. I should probably go to the doctor about my earache/blocked ear. But I doubt they can do a whole lot about it since i can't take antibiotics at the best of times and ..well yeah. But its also hindered by...

2. Our only car (on loan from my parents, thanks mum and dad!) decided on the weekend to try and blow itself up. It suddenly chucked on a whole lot of warning lights while we were out and about. Aaron the [ex]Hubby came around and checked it out on Saturday and threw around words like 'overcharging', '16 volts', 'alternator' and 'auto sparky'. Which really mean shit all to be besides the fact i can see dollar signs appearing in front of my eyes. If i go into labour I'm not exactly sure how i will be getting to hospital, or even how I'm going to do everything else I'm meant to do over the next few days.

3. I have my pre admit appointment tomorrow afternoon, in which i spend a couple of hours getting talked at by surgeons, anesthesiologists and get poked, prodded, weighed and body fluids taken. Sounds like fun ya'll.

4. My mum comes up tomorrow afternoon, we need to pick her up from bus stop in city... Not QUITE sure how this is going to work as of yet without a car and the fact I'm getting poked and prodded n all.

5. Wednesday our little man goes for a sleepover at his uncle and aunts (thanks Kyle and Jody!!) in preparation for Thursday.

6. Oh yeah, Thursday I HAVE A BABY!

So... Bit of a busy week ahead,its probably more squeezed into a few days than we have actually done in close to two months. Also why is it that when you already have alot going on, things decide to break? Honestly what is with that?

Raising baby Geek

♥



♥

♥ list

I just noticed all the stuff I have on my list today is orange/red/yellow... Whats with that? It looks purdy though!

Keep seeing the ads for the movie 'Juno'
(which is on tonight i think?) and permanently
have the song 'Anyone else but you' stuck
in my head constantly these days.

 Want.

I'm so motivated to sew at the moment, but I still have no bobbin holder!
GAAAH! Came across this awesome site though.

These are so cute and functional

Red velvet cupcakes! Always wanted to try these!

Want this printed on canvas.

These bib/table clothes are a cool idea for mucky bubs.

Before you were born

Dear beautiful babies of mine,
Before you were born...

I was a good kid. I didn't rebel until I was about 24.

I had pink hair (probably the beginning of this rebellion of mine).

Lived in the Faroe Islands for a year. It was by far the best and the worst experience of my entire life.

I lived in a crazy hostel where boys used to run up and down the hallways high on drugs and slide down the roof on a big inflatable blue couch.

Fell in love, five times.
First to a boy who hurt me in more ways than I hope you will ever know. Second time was with your dad even though it would be 13 years until we got together properly. The third time i gave my heart away to a wonderful boy in the Faroes who I still think of with a smile. The fourth time with a boy who was wrong for me in so many ways and the fifth time to a man I would later marry in my back yard.

Which brings me to another thing...I was married to a man who wasn't your father (actually at the time of this post, I still am married to a man who is not your father). The day I got married I was hungover but very happy. I had bare feet and little blue dried flowers in my hair. I wore rainbow socks to the reception.

Got drunk with your Aunt Zoe in Dunedin and sang the Brittany Spears version of 'I Love Rock n Roll' at the top of our lungs as we walked home on a frosty Dunedin night. A couple of mornings later, at 5am, I ran up the same street in my socks and PJs to where your dad was living and tried my best not to tell him I loved him as I said goodbye.

I spent nights playing Rockband and drinking [probably too much] rum and coke in a foreign country with your Uncle Scratch and Aunty Jade (none of which, by the way, are their real names).

Had a collection of corsets.

I spent 10 years of my life living through clinical depression and only got pulled out of it by decent medication and the husband-who-is-not-your-dad. I hope you never feel this way.

Danced in the rain on the streets of New Orleans.

Made more major mistakes than I can count on my fingers and toes together.

Lost someone who left a hole in my heart so large that sometimes when I'm alone I can't help but smile and cry and beg to gods I don't even believe in.

Had dreams of being a photographer.

Got tattooed and loved every painful second of it.

Spent some of the best nights of my life simply just cuddled up with your dad watching How I Met Your Mother, The Big Bang Theory and falling asleep to the theme song of Flight of the Conchords.



In 15-20 years time, when you look at me... your tired-looking-crusty-old-fashioned-out-of-date mother, I hope I still remember that once upon a time I had pink hair and danced in the streets.

Tórshavn

originally uploaded by Erik Christensen, Porkeri.

When I was 16 to 17, I spent a year living in this little place.

Best and worst experience of my life. But now adays when I look back I only remember the good experiences.

Poul.
Bjørt et co - My host women... they were all so beautiful.
Ólavsøka.
The beer.
The pear drinks they have.
Weird lollies.
Walking home from the school bus in thigh high snow.
Grassy rooftops.
The beautiful architecture.
Hot cocoa in the cafe.
Laying on the bathroom floor after a hard night out (it was heated underfloor :P)
The parties and balls.
The button jewelery....

It goes on.

originally uploaded by Erik Christensen, Porkeri.