Ways In Which I Behaved Like A Proper Blogger This Week
- I bought two plants. I chose one of them because it looks like a pterodactyl.
- I harvested a pumpkin grown by my very own child. It is big and turning orange on the windowsill.
- I wore a jumper with a slogan on it. It says "No Rain, No Flowers" and I wore it to a garden centre for maximum self aware social media irony.
- I put all the letters from my super-trendy peg board thing into a very pretty tin.
Ways In Which I Did Not Behave Like A Proper Blogger This Week
- I did not photograph any of these things.
- I decided against the stylish copper bedside lights which would have gone perfectly in my dark green bedroom because there was too high a risk of the kids smashing the bulbs/smearing them with fingerprints.
- I let my three year old wear a garish supermarket-sourced witch costume with a massive hole in the front for seven days straight (and expect to do the same again next week, too).
- The coconut milk in my fridge went bad.
October HolidaysWe are halfway through the local tattie picking holidays, and I'm loving having my three year old at home with me. I know it's widely frowned upon to enjoy spending time with your kids (and, believe me, bedtime is often a race against the hourglass of my patience) but my children (one 3 year old; one 10 month old) can be such lovely company right now and I can't get enough of watching their personalities emerge. We've had the time to see my eldest's oldest non-nursery friends and to read books and to do painting and to take our time when we're out and about, and a large part of me wishes I could keep her at home forever. Except that I'd soon run out of energy and she loves spending three hours a day with other preschoolers. So: I'm making the most of the holidays while I can.
Pop Culture StuffMy partner and I are watching Stranger Things 2, only a year after everybody else. I just read To All the Boys I've Loved Before which was entertaining. I haven't been listening to anything because I don't know the password for our speakers.
Actually, that's not true - there's a new show on CBeebies called Catie's Amazing Machines in which a female rally driver whose hair is permanently swept to one side of her head (presumably by HIGH SPEED) whizzes around in great big vehicles; my kids have zero interest in this show but I feel like I need to give some ratings to anything which furthers gender equality so I leave it on (that, and it's on quite late in the day when I'm too tired to walk over to the TV and press a button). Anyway, the point of me telling you this is that the soundtrack is done by The Darkness. High pitched wailing, speed thrumming, novelty rockers, The Darkness. It... um... stands out quite a bit in amongst the bouncy pop of vaguely scientific cartoons, and it has been stuck in my head for days. So I've been listening to that. Here's a link, if you feel the need to experience it for yourself.
My 10 Month Old's Current Favourite Things
- Snack wrappers.
- That one blue square from the homemade Fuzzy Felt.
- Shredding her big sister's artwork when nobody's looking.
- Toddling as fast as she can in great big looping circles which end with her crashing onto her bottom millimetres from a hard, sharp object.
- Pursuing horrified cats.
Ethical BleedingAnother period has arrived and I still haven't bought a new menstrual cup. I used to swear by my Mooncup; I bought it about fifteen years ago and that was going to be me sorted for the rest of my reproductive life. Then I had babies and, despite going up a cup size... well... it turned out my pelvic floor isn't quite what it used to be. And doing my exercises once a month in the middle of the night probably isn't the fastest way to sort that out. So I've spent a large part of this evening researching my menstrual cup options and have forked out £23 for the one which comes in bright orange.
Success Story of the WeekOne sweet pea flower. One. From the seven sweet pea plants the kids and I grew this summer.
It is the only sweet pea flower I have successfully nurtured in my thirty-nine years of life; no aspiring gardener has ever been so proud.