Poor old January – doesn’t it get a tough press? Middle of winter, bleak, grey, cold, financially troubling, nothing to celebrate, long, sometimes ‘dry’ etc etc…
While all that sounds very convincing I am here to shine a light on the more attractive elements of this here first month.
My three year old has discovered (and therefore I have just discovered) that one can take photos on one’s iPad without unlocking said iPad.
My son thinks this is amazing. I am indifferent and will always unlock my iPad to take a picture because I am essentially a technological relic.
Anyway scrolling through my gallery the other day led me to some shots that are cronkier, wonkier and more blurry than my usual ones…
Yet somehow these little gems are sweeter than any of my attempts – they are infused with a childish simplicity that makes me smile.
My son chooses to take pictures of things he loves in the house; the kitchen clock, the kitchen bin, his toys, his parents, his sister. His small world is getting bigger by the minute but for now this is his world – this is his happy.
And so, in what could be the most ill-conceived photo-blog post of all time, allow me to present the photographic gallery of my three year old:
My mother-in-law recently described my parenting as ‘free-spirited’…I’m pretty sure that’s not a world away from ‘your children are feral’…
Anyway I’ve been considering this and reminiscing about the last three years with my son while looking back at photos (lots of which were stored on here, so if you are a regular reader apologies for the pictorial recycling!).
Despite coming across as pretty organised in most other aspects of my life, these images have reminded me how much and how often we’ve muddled through in the last three years in a ‘make do and mend’ sort of fashion – my son makes do with his mother and I hope he doesn’t need any mending when he’s older… Continue reading
I used to make frequent visits to London pre-son – I worked there for a time so commuted daily to our fair capital and, following that, made regular trips to see friends, have jaunts and attend events.
Admittedly I’m a little out of practice, but overall I thought I had the whole ‘big city’ thing pretty well sorted. That is until this week – we took our son (nearly three) on his first proper trip to London to visit Big Ben and my eyes have been well and truly opened – I have been ‘doing’ London all wrong.
To save you from the same embarrassing mid-trip realisation I urge you to take heed readers – leave your quiet done-this-before nonchalance on the platform and take not another step in the Big Smoke without first complying with the following guidelines of London Etiquette:
I was walking home childless yesterday and, feeling a bit chilly, pushed my hands into my fairly cavernous pockets. They didn’t get too far though – their way was impeded by sticks and stones and rubbish and treasures and all sorts of things that by touch alone I just couldn’t identify. All sorts of things that I can assure you would not have been in my pockets two years ago, pre-parenting. It got me wondering, what on earth is in there!?
You know when you, your friends or perhaps your children say something that just has to have a song lyric attached? Who, for example, hasn’t shouted ‘STOP’…then followed it up with ‘in the name of love’ or the slightly more bouncy ‘right now, thank you very much…’!?
Well, since having a child (now a 2 year old) my husband and I do this A LOT. This means that our parenting soundtrack is currently a heady mix of nursery rhymes, Bob the Builder/Little Red Tractor/Timmy Time and completely random snatches of random songs.