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Since becoming a mother I have had this new found feeling of authority come over me.

 

It's a strange thing, a kind of, boldness? I've found confidence I never knew I had, but it's not the sassy, sexy kind of confidence women chase, I think this is the "matured" confidence you find in older people who have gained their quality by just being around for awhile or experiencing things. At 28, I can't exactly act as if I'm some kind of sage, far from it, but having a baby has been so life changing, the biggest challenge, that nothing else compares and the hugeness of the responsibility has made everything else completely trivial.

 

It's come through on the small things, like... when I go into town to the florist every week, there was another girl who served me and she was rude. She had a male friend in and then were giggling and laughing and swearing under their breath. I walked in and spoilt their fun. "Wait till she's gone" I could hear her saying, "Oh my GAWD you can't put THAT!" holding her phone up to his face, both glancing at me, ushering me out. How rude. The next week my usual little florist friend serves me and I tell her the girl was very rude and exactly what I thought about her and said, "I feel bad you having to work with her, what a shame." Seems small, but the old me would NEVER have said this. Small changes, but me and D joke that I am becoming an absolute Mammy and I keep saying in this overly proud jumped up voice, "I'm a Mammy now! I have authority over you!" Then I kick my leg up behind me with a lil arch of the back and grin all smug and the like. Lame joke, but anyway, it's kinda how I feel! HA!

 

Well, I am one very lucky Mammy because my husband crazily thinks my body is better now than it ever was before (I would think he was lying but he's just not the type) and as I speak he is buying us a brand new, swanky SUV car that will be perfect for our new little addition. The weather is just beautiful - walking through the supermarket underground parking yesterday with the heat baking off the tarmac and a summer dress on gave me the temporary illusion of being abroad. I had my little boy in his sling around me, my husband walking beside me wearing that daydreamy not on this planet look that he often does and the warm air at the legs and I couldn't help but inwardly smile - life, is, good.

 

Apart from, even paradise has not mastered perfection, because, life is good but, the mother in law likes to shall we say, comment? from time to time. Yes, I think she thinks she knows best. First time Mum, I get it. She's raised her two, I get it. But, new bold cheeky Mammy says, "That was the 70s love, this is now, and every baby is different so, y'know, back off" HA! Woah sassy Mama! No but really, I never said that but it runs through the old brain and if she keeps going she is going to get served, as me and D joke. A serving.

 

Talking of servings, a good friend of mine came round to the house and meet bubba and she brought her girlfriend (they're lesbians) who, I have nothing against but she seems to be pretty cold towards me and who we're sure has a real intense hate for D for whatever reason. He used to mention it after they'd visited all the time and I kinda brushed it off but it's too obvious to ignore even for me now and yup, I agree with him. I think he's because he's a typical, white, business owning, really straight and not very sensitive or metro bloke and it rubs he up the wrong way. I would never ask him to change for her or watch his P's and Q's while she's around, besides, my friend Miss Gilley doesn't mind and her girlfriend is really not my friend, she tags along so, we went to the beach and had a lovely day and I'm upstairs feeding bubba and I can hear them talking and laughing and low music playing downstairs.

 

The early evening had that beautiful quality only early evenings do when the day has been basking hot and the warmth is cooling slightly leaving the Spring scent of the blossom trees and hints of Summer to come. Hot, Spring evenings like this demand a drink and some music and staying up late with the window opened a notch to let in the sweet smelling breeze. They're talking and after I've put our little baby to bed I can hear the topic turning towards sexuality.

 

Now, D likes a discussion and he's very interested in science but he doesn't always have an etiquette filter and well, some would say that's not a good thing but it just so happens to be one of the main reasons I love him. Miss Gilley's girlfriend is looking a bit turned off as he asks them if they've heard of a generic study which has isolated the so called "Gay Gene" and after another half hour of discussion she suddenly looks teary eyed, stands up dramatically and says she's too offended to hear it and walks out and leaves us all a bit shell shocked!

 

So another one bites the dust! Miss Gilley looks confused, asks how to get out of our yard and then I haven't heard from her since. So touchy over just a simple discussion? I find our friends are all separating into different groups and some of them are leaving us like an abandoned ship.

 

But anyway, whatever! If they can't handle anything more than small talk I really don't care anymore. The Mammy attitude resurfacing. After the drama I peeked in on baby and my heart melted and it all faded away. What originally before him may of been an issue for me is now a silly niggle that I'm about to forget.

 

Life is sometimes strange, life is sometimes funny, life is sometimes hard, but at the moment, life is good.

 

Lo x

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So another one bites the dust! Miss Gilley looks confused, asks how to get out of our yard and then I haven't heard from her since. So touchy over just a simple discussion?

 

I used to get into trouble like this as a kid (and still sometimes even now!). I grew up in a fairly Jewish area. Probably half the kids were Jewish. The Jewish holidays were as normal as the Christian holidays. I think one of my babysitters told me that the difference between Jews and Christians was that Jews didn't believe in Jesus. So, the next natural question in my mind was, "Why not?" I'd already asked my grandmother why Christians believed in Jesus, and I learned that it wasn't optional for us (lol). I wondered, why didn't Jews have to believe in Jesus? Well, I ended up asking a couple of Jewish classmates. They became obviously uncomfortable and didn't want to discuss it in depth. I think someone ended up calling my mom and complaining about the fact that I raised the question! I always thought that was kind of funny. I was a child asking a question, and other people attributed meanings to it which didn't exist.

 

I notice that a lot. There is so much projection in bigotry. People who feel or anticipate oppression are often as prejudiced as their perceived oppressors, and often need others to display a certain degree of contrition for being so oppressive. And if the perceived 'oppressors' are blissfully ignorant of the issue, or simply not attuned to it, the 'oppressed' can become quite upset.

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There is so much projection in bigotry. People who feel or anticipate oppression are often as prejudiced as their perceived oppressors, and often need others to display a certain degree of contrition for being so oppressive. And if the perceived 'oppressors' are blissfully ignorant of the issue, or simply not attuned to it, the 'oppressed' can become quite upset.

 

Perfectly well put Jibralta, sums it up in one slice!

 

Lo x

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Just want to say congratulations! I'm so happy for you that you and baby are healthy and happy. Enjoy your family:) It sounds so lovely.

 

Hi itsallgrand,

 

Thank you so much for your congratulations! Being a new Mama is crazy but full of love - enjoying the mad ride bumps n' all!

 

Lo x

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Since becoming a Mother I have now entered, by accident, the world of the middle class super Mummy.

 

This world is dominated by oneupmanship, expensive, ridiculous classes like "baby yoga", "baby massage", "baby sign" (it's very trendy now don'tchaknow and basically guarantees for only £12 a go that your child will end up smarter than Einstein), "messy play" (and, not the erotic type you might first thing of, it's just letting your baby roll around in cake and mush their hand through jelly, again, for a nice fee, we can do that unintentionally at home without charge I think), "baby weaning classes" and oh my GOD IT JUST GOES ON I AM GOING TO BURST!!!!

 

This type of small thing to most people just seems to glide over their heads like a little fluffy whisp cloud and they get on with their lives like it never happened, but being immersed in this world, my personality just can't let this stuff go. Seems insignificant doesn't it? Why so angry Lola? So what if they want to teach their baby to do a hand gesture to tell them they're going to poo while having a poo while you can smell it anyway and normally the massive fart is a dead giveaway? Why not just be happy for them? Just be happy for them, with their £2,000 strollers and babies in designer rompers while their 4x4's line the streets as they saunter happily and carelessly into a weeks worth of baby massage sensory learn time play time wean organic stretch fengshui baby classes?

 

Part of me can't let it lie. There's this awful, cynical part to me I can't let go. It's the part of my personality that keeps me up an extra five minutes before I go to sleep turning idiotic things over in my mind. Just let it lie!!! It's got nothing to do with you! It doesn't affect you! Just don't go! Stop being such a kill joy! Hahaaaaa!

 

When I was pregnant I went to a pregnancy swim exercise class ran by local midwives. There I made it my mission to mingle and chat and basically befriend all these to be Mums who were going to be in exactly the same situation as me in 9 months time and in the same area. I met a lot of lovely women and have since got to meet who was hiding behind all those bumps! The babies are as different as all the sizes of our bumps were.

 

Now, call me a hypocrite (HA!) but with this new found group which again, ironically for hating all this stuff, I SET UP AND ARRANGED (why do I do it to myself?! Glutton for punishment) I go to a baby swim class in a beautiful hotel hosted in a spa pool every Thursday morning. It is one of those, okay, yes, trendy baby classes that I think are actually useful - so bubba gets to eventually become familiar in the water and learn what I think is a very valuable and important life skill - how to swim. I think I value it even more for my son because I am like a dead fish in the water and can only skip a few lengths. Not much of a swimmer at all and always regretted not learning and bunking off as a kid to miss the swimming lessons in that god damn freezing pool with a horrible, evil battle axe of a teacher called, yes, Mrs Lake (har har yes she was called Lake and she was a swimming instructor).

 

I'm at this swimming class and all the other babies, again, maybe this is what aaaaaall mothers think about their baby, but I look at the other 10 babies and they all seem not as with it as my little boy. He is forever getting showered with compliments over how alert he is, how sociable he is, etc. All the other babies look stoned, gazing into the distance, kicking a little timidly while sucking a finger and there is my little blonde bomb shell and he is cooing and pulling faces and kicking all by himself in the water. He is much smaller and less fat than all the others as well, and was 2 weeks early, so maybe should even be a smidge behind developmentally but, anyway, the swim teacher who has seen babies come and go over many years always comments on his alert, hyper personality and she can't wait to grab hold of him because "he's just SO CUTE!" Cue beaming smug proud Mum moment!

 

I'm in this group chat for the swim group and all these Mums are attending a trillion different classes. God knows how they attend all these classes, keep their houses, get the babies naps and feeds in and function themselves but there you go, their schedule is middle class Mama trendy baby heaven and they all seem happy with it. The cynic in me basically ends up dropping an opinion bomb shell in Mummy Group Chat about how if you teach your baby to sign, won't they be more likely to sign at you if that meets their needs? Won't it eliminate the frustration that drives a baby to absolutely need to talk or their needs can't be communicated? Or am I just being stupid here and really it's going to turn all these gazing, drooling lumps into little brain childs? Who knows. But what I do know is that after a gentle, little opinion, in the vibe of, hey girls, I know it does a baby no harm but do you really think there's anything in these classes or are most of them just jumping on a trend band wagon and taking us to the cleaners, I haven't been invited to hardly anything anymore and yup, I'm kinda not included in all their chats. Oh and plus, I couldn't give a fig my darling about the royal wedding as I'm a right little republican and I don't believe in star signs (Oh my GOD you're a Sagittarius?!? Do you travel?!) it pretty much means I'm out on a limb and now none of them relate to me.

 

Is that really such a bad thing?

 

What I find myself thinking again is, should I of kept my mouth shut? And also, why do I just not get on with women in general? And, why does everyone end up kind of hating me? Is it me?! Oh God! I should've kept my opinions to myself! And then I look at them all patting each other on their backs because their babies have slept 11 hours every night since they were 2 and a half months old and my little bubba is still waking up two to three times a night and then I think, is there something in all of this? They all bought about 12 baby books when they were pregnant and I was blasé and skeptical and never bought one or felt the urge to acquire a baby developmental personal library. Is this making me a bad Mum? I know deep down it doesn't, I know I'm doing my best even if sometimes it is a little kooky or a little authoritarian or a little strict but I love him more than life itself and despite all this inner knowledge I sometimes think, are they all floating around doing a much better job than me at this Motherhood thing because they are involved like that?

 

The best eye opener for me as a new Mum was, I went out to meet one of my favourite new Mum friends and her little boy Isaac. She looked at my little baby, smiled and said, "We sometimes have pyjama days too" and gave a little hearty laugh. I looked at my beautiful son, beaming in his pram in a pale blue striped romper and a little cream cardigan over him. It came over me suddenly. I had made a baby faux pas. Those comfortable onesie button down outfits were... pjamas? Meant only for bed? And he was in one? Out in the day? With a CARDIGAN ON like it was a freakin regular outfit?! DID I CARE AFTER I REALISED THIS?! No! He is so comfortable in them that I mix and match them up constantly with little slipper shoes and cotton hats and he, in my opinion, looks comfortable and great. As a baby should. Comfortable. Their babies are tussled up in "day wear" - miniature skinny jeans, tiny button shirts with fake pockets that they squirm in and braces and proper dinky mock shoes when they can't even walk yet and I just look at them and think it's ridiculous. But, I am making a massive blunder apparently by doing this and all the Mums think it's really quite funny.

 

I don't want to be anything like them. Maybe they can sense that and they take it that I think I'm better than them. Not at all! Not on your nelly! I just think I'm different to them. Our priorities and ideas about life don't match at all. We're off centre. Argh, I'm always off centre! All my life I've wondered and now I know, it's just come to me typing this now, I'm off centre. Perfect. I'm skew-whiff inside. That's why. They're all straight, straight and narrow, I'm wonky in some way inside, my puzzle piece doesn't fit any of theirs, it's the wrong shape. Ahhh. Solved.

 

At least D gets me. Hopefully our little son will think I'm okay too. I just know he loves me, I love him so much, adore him, I could cry if I thought about it for too long, my love for him... but I do think when he looks up at me with his big blue eyes, I feel Dusty Springfield start up... "The look, of love, is in your eyes...!"

 

I think I am ranting and going on like this because honestly, I am so exhausted. He doesn't sleep. Oh yeah, your babies so alert look! GREAT FOR HIM, NOT FOR ME! Yes, the down side is I need the energy and stamina of someone on speed at a 90s warehouse rave, I just don't have it anymore. Now that's why people say having children young is better in some ways. It's the energy. I swear, the whole thing would be a breeze if it weren't for the sleep deprivation. He's going through a growth spurt and nursing constantly through the night. Have you ever gone 2 weeks waking up every 3 hours? I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The feeling of broken sleep makes you feel physically nauseous. I felt so sick for a week straight that I convinced myself I was pregnant again. No, just pure exhaustion and I think breast feeding, not drinking enough water.

 

But, it will pass. I hope. And in the meantime, every Thursday I'll be with my little blondie in the pool while he's kicking and cooing while all the other Mums chat about their baby sensory class and how they can't stand the vast amount of sleep they're getting while I know all the time I am being looked down upon because I've let my baby cry for 10 minutes and not gone to him (because he was over tired and needed to get himself to sleep!)

 

They think I am ensian in my ways. Victorian, seen and not heard. Erm, no, not at all, but I physically could not maintain running to him at every first whimper because it doesn't settle him! And he refuses to sleep! And they don't believe me! Because all their babies just drift off like angels no matter where they are. D says it's because they're all not running whatever software our bubba has, he always thinks they look vacant and slow, but I don't think it's anything like that... it makes me doubt my decisions now and then and I do feel mean really, poking fun at the classes, they're good Mummy social things I guess but, argh, tired.

 

He cried so much tonight I tried everything to console him but in the end he was changed and fed and I tucked him in, kissed his straining, hot forehead in his over tired frenzy and endured 25 minutes of screaming which sounds not that long but, if you could hear a baby going at it like that right now, you'd do anything to not have to stand even a minute of it. It breaks my heart but deep down I know it's the only thing that seems to work for him. My fault for keeping him up too long, I forgot the time, and when I realised this the guilt that washed over me! I peeked in the nursery and he's peacefully sound asleep now, as if it never happened. Tinker! I rang D and he told me I needed to stop beating myself up, things like this happen, you can't be perfect, but I keep expecting myself to be perfect and that extends to Motherhood as well.

 

Oh the curse of perfectionism.

 

Surely there must be a Greek myth about that or something? Never become a perfectionist. You will never match up to your own standards.

 

Please little bubba stay asleep for your Mama because she is so very, very tired and talking about baby yoga and wearing your pyjama suit during the day won't do.

 

Lo x

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  • 1 month later...

When I was about 6, I remember hearing my Dad talk about "Jehovah Witnesses".

 

I was sat in the front garden with my sister, it was a beautiful sunny day, and he was talking to a neighbour saying he told them never to knock again and that he had an argument with them when he got into a debate with a pair that came to the door. I distinctly remember him saying "So I told them, if my daughter was going to die unless she got a blood transfusion I should say no? Never!" I will always remember him saying that, he seemed appalled by it. And from then onwards, for years and years, the odd time I would hear about a Jehovah Witness I would think blood transfusions and relate them to some weird, smartly dressed creepy religious vampires or something, never knowing exactly who they were or what they stood for until I reached my late teens.

 

This memory was brought back by crossing paths with the two local Jehovah Witnesses yesterday.

 

They are always around, I've seen them a good few times since moving here and I go far and wide. They travel in a pair and cut an odd couple. Both young, both boys, they only look between 17 - 19. Always dressed in suits, always holding a binder and a book, I presume The Bible. One is handsome, dark dark black skin with full lips, a round smooth face and a soft smile. Black, short cropped hair, almost shaved. The other is skinny, pale, high cheek boned and blonde. Both always smile at me, ask me how I am and walk past slowly.

 

The thing that gets me is, they fix their gaze and never let it go until you're well away and past. I can't tell you how unnerving but captivating it is. It's bizarre. Maybe this cult like branch of Christianity still holds some kind of dark mystery to me brought on by my Fathers attitude towards them, I don't know, but I couldn't help thinking about them for the rest of the day. It's the black guy though. He stares at me with, I don't know if I'm mistaking this, but it feels like some kind of desire and intrigue and his eyes never blink or shift, just focus intently on me with such conviction. Last time I saw him he was looking back at me as he walked away, and I guess I was looking back at him because I was so... I don't know, weirded out maybe, by such an intense look.

 

Nothing but trouble maybe. I really don't know. I have no desire at all to get into any kind of religion, I couldn't force myself to believe even if I want too, but that look. It made me think. There is something so attractive, so magnetic, so charismatic about conviction. When someone has such strong principles, even if you disagree, and whole heartedly will not be budged, I don't know, maybe a bit like Tom Cruise talking about Scientology. Barmy, I know, but when he speaks with such conviction, you can't help but give him a listen.

 

Lo x

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I'm actually always a bit repelled by conviction. Although I have entertained Mormons a time or two. They were in my neighborhood about 20 years ago. I was bored and let them in and listened to them. I was raising a baby crow at the time, and he pooped on one of them. lol.

 

When they came back a third time, my stepfather told them to beat it. I was slightly disappointed, but since I had no intention of ever becoming a Mormon or anything else, it really didn't matter.

 

If they came by now, I wouldn't let them in.

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When they came back a third time, my stepfather told them to beat it. I was slightly disappointed, but since I had no intention of ever becoming a Mormon or anything else, it really didn't matter.

 

If they came by now, I wouldn't let them in.

To each his own.

I think religion is a personal preference and should be personal. In other words, don't try to sell your conviction to another.

I get that's the culture for some of them. Their reward is to bring others on board. But it's imposing your belief on someone else that bothers me. If anyone wants to discuss religion or politics with me, I glaze over.

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Big Hugs Lolly. I know exactly where you are coming from with your thoughts on the Mumsie Cult. It was weird, and I used to feel guilty because even though I lived my beautiful son so much, I didn't feel. Happy in tha world of young mothers. I hated that competitiveness, and I think that apart from having a baby, I am practically nothing in common with them. No spontaneous rapport.

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  • 4 weeks later...

I think I am an eccentric.

 

No, wait; I know I am an eccentric.

 

Okay, I don't walk around wearing a wig and walking with a cane and I don't keep pet eels or walk around the streets wearing slippers but, I don't know, I was chatting to a friend over messages and something came up that made me click and realise why I feel like such an oddball. I'm off beat. My whole life is off beat, my whole thinking is maybe off beat and I'm just kinda, an off beat kinda gal.

 

Is it vanity? Doesn't everyone like to think they're different? Not the same? That surely can't be the case. I look around and see swarms of people trying to do exactly what everyone else is doing and wanting desperately to think exactly what everyone else is thinking. I couldn't think of anything worse!

 

From this crazy old house we live in, to it's weird, undesirable and unfashionable location, to my husbands job, to my many, many jobs (each changing each year, to exotic dancing to reception work in a legal office to dabbling selling houses to waiting tables to cocktail shaking to dress hanging and cleaning and everything in-between), to obsessions with certain people and certain things, to needing things to be done in a certain way, to being kind of strangely socially awkward but at the same time pretty good and charming in social situations (people seem to want to be my friend, maybe curious, then they ditch me after getting to know me).

 

I eat weird combinations of foods at no set times, I go to bed extremely late for having to be up during the night and so early with my baby son. I garden other peoples gardens. Shamelessly. I play songs in the car on repeat, one time when I was working at the office I was so obsessed with a song I played it all week every day morning lunch break and journey home. It could've been played 100 times. I'm not sure. Quaint and traditional in many ways, extremely conservative in most politics, extremely liberal in most life style choices, atheist, obsessed with reading, but reading erotica or horror. I have a mischievous sense of humour. People sometimes don't get if I'm joking or not. People sometimes don't know how to take me.

 

Maybe that's everyone? Maybe I'm just English. We're known to be prone to a few eccentricities now and then... well, the wealthy British anyway. They an afford to be eccentric. It's acceptable then.

 

I seem to revel in other peoples disappointment of me, I just can't STAND doing the "proper" thing. The fact I had a tiny 4 door car for so long with a baby, so many tuts, so many "get your act together", so many "get organised" - I secretly delighted in their disapproval, made me enjoy the impracticality even more. Is that weird? Or is it a slight nature of rebellion I have? I get wrapped up in the impractical and just love it! Too many stone steps up to our house, so bad for a pram - perfect! Sold. The house is too big, you'll never clean it, not practical - PERFECT! Tell me more! Ha ha!

 

Maybe this has all been put in my subconscious by a conversation I had with D on the phone while he was away.

 

I was complaining about all the new friends and the old friends I still have and how I still don't feel like I get on with any of them and that any of them understand me at all. He simply said, "You need an eccentric."

 

I said, "What do you mean?" He said,

"You'd get on with an eccentric. Someone who does their own thing, just like you. You need someone who doesn't care what everyone else is doing."

 

It got me thinking. Maybe I'm eccentric as well? Maybe I need someone like... me? A little bit? Not too similar. I don't want a twin. Although, I love my own company. HA!

 

And it also got me thinking. Parenting. No one gives you the run down. You feel like saying, "Hey, shouldn't I have to pass a test or something?!?!" But no, you get left to it and the base line truly is about survival. Keeping this gorgeous, magical, delicate little baby alive. And then happy. Content, best of all. You love this baby more than anything else in the whole world. But then society says, they need structure. Routine. And, maybe as a bit of an eccentric well... routine is like, what is routine?!? You mean you can't stay up with the baby till 2am then just pop it down after eating a bit of spicy cheese and a hot chocolate and then kind of dance around with it at 11am to Roxy Music and lay down together while talking about if you should light the fire or not in summer because you like the look of a fire lit during the day?! I know and we all know routine and structure is best for children. I want that for my son.

 

But starting him on solid foods has been a strain. And it's not because, I have to feed him as well as milk. No. It's because, really, deep down, I'm not just weaning him, I'm weaning me. I'm having to have breakfast at a set time. I'm having to watch the clock, for him, for his sake. I'm having to ensure I have healthy, reasonable food in. I can't just fly by the seat of my pants, have doughnuts for tea and then skip breakfast or live off iced coffee and fruit gums. It won't do.

 

Part of me welcomes the change, part of me is dying, dying inside because it just isn't me, and I feel like having to know how long he's had a nap for and when he went down and oooo it's nearly bedtime I must start his bath and then he must be asleep at this set time is really killing me. The imposed structure of it all is so alien. It's hit me like a tonne of bricks.

 

It's not that structured, I understand I don't have to be so rigid, it really isn't, but I have to aim for something similar or it goes to pot so quickly the poor thing will probably feel like he's living in a real life circus. The circus that is my life. Or, should have BEEN my life until I had my sweet bambino. But it's threatening to emerge all the time, to disrupt my attempts at normality, a routine, a proper babies life. A sensible thing. Good structure. It's essential, I am told. I know this really.

 

Rambling, get to bed Mammy. This is another thing. No sleep, but half self imposed. Should've gone to be ages ago when he did, instead I stay up, chatting and thinking maybe I am eccentric?

 

An eccentric mother trying to be normal. Oh darling, I'm sorry your Mammy is a bit kooky. I hope you love me anyway. I really, really, really love you.

 

Lo x

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  • 3 months later...
Your PERFECTLY IMPERFECT LOLLY Xxx

 

Ohhhh Silverbirch!!

 

You are so sweet! I always feel like you are quietly cheering me on no matter what I seem to do or how stupid I can be on here; for that I thank you, you're a saint!

 

I hope you're well?

 

Lo x

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What is it about religious people and me? Do they want rejection?!

 

Walking in town with my boy sat perkily in his pram and you know, I just know it, there's this youngish man, probably 30, black, energetic, handsome looking, great big white grin on his face but it's plastered on, very forced, fake! And he's singing out something to people hurrying by and pushing leaflets at them and you just know he's preaching and yes, he's preaching about religion, it definitely isn't the newest fabric softener, not for this one.

 

I walk by, try not to make eye contact but I can't help it, it's morbid curiosity!

 

"MA'AM, YA KNOW YA CAN BE SAVED!"

 

"Sorry, no thanks!"

 

"YA DON'T WANT TO BE SAVED?!!"

 

"No sorry!"

 

Ooops! Which gets me thinking.

 

I've settled into this routine with my little B (thats what I'm calling my baby boy, he really is my little B), and it consists of a walk around a local wild park right near my house. I walk through a certain residential area which is a very nice part of the suburbs. I guess it makes me feel safe and everything's very pleasant and I just feel like it's a nice little pre-curser until we get to the main show which is this old, overgrown but kind of strangely still formal "wild park". By time we get there, come rain or shine, he's always asleep. The sound of the wind through the canopy of leaves from these huge, ancient trees seems to set him off.

 

With one headphone in my ear I listen endlessly in a kind of daydream walk to peoples opinions and talks and comedies and anything I feel like on YouTube. Lately I've been getting into this interviewer, Joe Rogan - love his style of interview. It's like you've been able to drop your ear in on two really good friends who are totally comfortable with each other just kicking back and talking about the big things and the small things and it doesn't feel like your usual stiff, banal interview at all.

 

I immediately search Gavin McInnes who, as a bit of a conservative but libertarian Trump loving with a good sense of humour about it kinda gal I really like his style of delivery and also happen to agree with most of the things he talks about, especially regarding feminism and millennial culture etc so, I'm dying to see if Joe Rogan has interviewed this guy and to my delight he has.

 

Gavin says something quite soon on, I think Joe Rogan brings it up, that on Gavins profile, be in LinkedIn or Facebook or Twitter or whatever, wherever, he just simply states his general stance on most things. I think the example goes something like: Pro-West, Anti-Islam, Anti-Feminist, Pro-Life, yada yada and he just states his general stance and belief I guess, in this quick summary.

 

You could say its petty, or simplifying, or disagree or you know, I don't agree with all that he stands for, for example I'm not as against abortion as he is, I do agree there is a time and a place for it but I wish it wasn't practiced so freely and lightly and definitely it should never, ever be used as a form of planned contraception but, to have it made unavailable? No I disagree. But the sentiment behind his summary, that is what appealed to me. And he goes on to defend this way of summarisation by saying he thinks we are living in a time of great philosophy, where everyone is philosophising all the time, and there are so many split sides now and it's just like, you need to get it out there where you stand amongst all of this because everyone seems to be in different camps. It struck home to me and I agreed with him.

 

Sometimes I feel like I need this badge on me with that kind of summarisation. At least it would mean that people who think they like me would be able to make a quick, informed judgement and glance at this thing and then be like, "Ah, okay, she's for that? She's with THAT crowd? I'll leave that coffee invite THANKS lets move on" and it might save me months of socialising for us to get into one deep discussion where we share, hold it, an OPINION! GASP! And then everyone falls out with me because they thought I was just like them but I'm not.

 

I would love to hear everyones "summarises" ha! Very telling I think but, just a quick throw down of a few that spring to mine, I think mine would read something like:

 

Pro-Women With Kids Staying At Home, Anti-Feminist, Anti-Islam, Pro-Free Speech, Pro-Not Taking Yourself Too Seriously, Anti-Religion, Pro-Trump, Pro-Brexit, Anti-Labour Party, Anti-Middle Class Life Is The Best Mentality, Pro-Strong Opinions, Pro-Luxury Interior Design! Anti-Fake Humble Brag, Pro-Offence, Pro-Help Yourself, Anti-Benefits, Anti-Homeless People Begging, Pro-Tommy Robinson, Anti-Endless Immigration, Pro-Nigel Farage, Anti-Legalise Drugs, Pro-Euthanisa, Anti-Assign Your Own Gender, Pro-Marriage, Pro-Gay Rights.

 

Maybe that makes me sound like an awful person! Just a few out there. Maybe it builds a picture, maybe it doesn't! Thought it was an interesting exercise.

 

I wonder what life would be like if we were all so much more transparent and just put it out there a bit more? It's a social taboo and very un-charming isn't it, to just blurt it out, but often in life I dance around in pleasant, trivial conversation with so many people I meet and I find after months of this they know nothing of substance about me and I know nothing of substance about them. I ask so many questions but I get such flat answers, and no one asks anything of me.

 

Lo x

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  • 3 weeks later...

Ever rediscover something you loved or habitually did or liked many years ago suddenly out of nowhere? And then realise you love it just the same and forget any time passed between you leaving or stopping your hobby or liking or whatever your fancy was and you fall right back into a kind of nostalgic obsession?

 

I've got the way about YouTube lately, or I should say, someone I used to always watch and listen too on there. She is a early 30s, conservative, anti-feminist home maker and she has a lot of forth-right alternative opinions, I see her as a kind of tonic to the liberal la la land I feel I'm living in at the moment. Anyway, I used to always watch her in-between everyday life, she never posted much and had very little videos when I first found her channel but I hadn't searched for anything from her for years until yesterday. I don't know why, she just popped right up into my memory and I had to see if she was still on there and low and behold, she now has a pretty huge following and plenty of videos so I just had to watch as many as I could in-between ironing and B napping. Addicted. It sounds sad doesn't it but, listening to her makes me feel a little bit less alone in my kind of, way I chose to live my life and the way I think. I know no one where I live or where I have lived that think like myself or my husband. I sometimes wish I had a female friend like her. Someone I really connected too on a deep level of mutual understanding. I'm not saying we have to be the same or like the same things but, the core principles of us and the energy with which we attack life, it would be nice I guess, to share in that with another woman. I find it in plenty of men but never women. Not round here, anyway.

 

Sometimes when I'm drifting off to sleep at night I imagine this idealised version of small town America in the deep south. Somewhere quiet and quaint and friendly, full of old passed down traditions. Never really changing. Letting the modern, rushed world happen somewhere "out there" and letting it all be of no concern or thought to this little piece of prairie America. Women creating a community while the men go off to work, children running freely between houses, playing in the woods, going in and out of neighbours houses. Women popping in for coffee and pie in each others kitchenettes. Women wearing cooking aprons during the day, everyone busy but there's a beautifully slow pace to everything. Dive bars lit up at night. Men wearing cowboy hats. Jeans. House dresses. It sends me off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

Women are too busy working their fingers to the bone climbing the corporate ladder to form town and street communities now. I feel it's part of a breakdown in modern society. They used to be the ones doing the bake sales, organising Halloween walks through the park, cutting the grass out the front and saying good morning to everyone passing by. They used to be involved in their children's school, the yard sales, the charity events, street Christmas gatherings hosted in a different house each year, etc. Now, nothing. Streets are like ghost streets, you never see anyone come or go. The only light on a night to be seen in peoples living rooms is the bright, white flickering of their TVs. Depressing.

 

In this house, in my house; out there, it might be 2018, but in here, it's 1954, and there's no TV in this house, and I have jazz quietly playing in the lounge and it drifts out up echoing all around the hall, it bounces off the wooden flooring. Even on a rainy day, people can be rushing by, but there is a heavenly calm in this house. A calm and history of this being a home again and again and again you only get after these bricks, mortar, detailed ceilings, have been through 150 years. All the knowledge wrapped up inside this house. If these walls could talk? That's what I often think about as well. This house has an atmosphere. It's more than a home. The air is even different in here. You'd know what I'd mean if you could be here, it makes no sense written down, words can't explain it, but no one ever wants to leave once they come in.

 

Which brings me back to my YouTube maiden of tradition gone - and something that stood out to me, it was if I were her and she was speaking as me! She said the exact same thing I would say. One of her videos was, someone had sent in a question and asked her who her favourite female fiction character was and she said, "Mortisha Adams". Now, I couldn't agree more. She is mine! But it's not just she admires the same character as me, it was her reason behind choosing her, which is exxxxxaaactly the same reason as mine. Which was - this lady couldn't give a fig what anyone else thinks of them. They live life exactly how they want to live it. They're different from everyone else around them. They're weird, kooky. She's gothically beautiful, timelessly elegant, always put together. She is a fantastic mother, she is a mother her own way. She is a fantastic wife. And most of all, her and Gomez are a complete team. A passionate, heady team and they love each other more than anything. What a combination. Everything I admire.

 

Not that I am this gothic ethereal thing, HA! But, The Adams Family remind me of, well, me and my husband. Big old house, kooky, modern world out there, it's a different time zone inside, our house is full of antiques and, everyone kind of thinks we're crazy! But we do things our own way and have our own opinions. And we are truly a family now, with our little son.

 

It's strange, I'm not religious at all, I don't even know if I would class myself as "spiritual" or whatever but, I don't believe in signs from the divine or anything like that but lately, everything seems to be pointing towards one thing.

 

Lately, we've been struggling a smidge with finances.

 

I'm not about to get out the violin or anything, things are overall fine - it's a cash flow problem. We are asset rich but, we have a cash flow problem. I realise how pretentious that sounds, it sounds like a rich persons problem of basically saying they're maybe temporarily a bit broke. It's true though.

 

I look young for my age. I'm 28. Everyone thinks I'm younger. I have rosy cheeks, I'm flat chested, I just look young, and I drive a car worth more than some peoples house. This is a fairly new thing. I always dreamed secretly of driving a really nice car. So you say, my dreams have come true, how does it feel?

 

Well, when you're driving this car and you're also worrying about budgeting, you feel like an a*****e, you really do. And on top of that, everyone looks at you in it. Then, everyone looks at you when you get OUT of it. And everyone especially looks at you when you get out of it because you look young and they expect an old man to be getting out of it I guess. Oh yeah, BOO HOO, woe is me it's terrible, but I'm saying that it's a weird thing. I thought I would enjoy it more but frankly, I'm just always painfully embarrassed.

 

I park it way, way away. I love driving at night because no one can see me. I feel like I should be apologising constantly for having it, for driving it. I never mention it to anyone I know. I never say what we drive, I never discuss cars, nothing. I'd rather no one knew. It makes me feel like a d**k. It's not a high performance sports car or anything, we have a baby but, y'know, I've realised I don't like a certain type of attention. I'll never be ostentatious. Now I realise that. If you have the luxury to be ostentatious, if really does say a lot to me whether you choose to be that way or not. It's not a bad or a good thing in my opinion but, lets just say I know that is not what I am.

 

And I am part French I found out. Explains having no . No , boyish way about me, gap between my two front teeth, likes a neck scarf, likes a crisp shirt, never gets too overdressed for an occasion, always wears lipstick but never much other make-up, skinny, hates long nails. I am ticking the French boxes here. But I hate wine! HA! My Grandma explained to me it's her side of the family. They have a French surname I should've known but I never thought about it. It's strange because the first time I met D, one of the first things he said to me is, "You look French." And when I worked at the cocktail bar I met him at, all my colleges used to call me "Frenchie"! Ha! Is that an insult or a compliment, I really don't know. But back to the other train of thought... I'm all over.

 

All over, and yes. Pointing towards.

 

Pointing towards... my husband loves boxing. We watched the Tyson Fury fight last week. We both love the boxing. He used to box. Anyway, what a lesson, what a lesson in... getting up. Just get up. That's what everything has been pointing towards lately. Just get up. Lo, you've been feeling down. Money issues. Tired. You want another baby. You feel greedy and guilty for wanting another. You've been in a bit of a lull, mentally. I've felt alone. On an island inside my head. No one understands me but D. I'll never have a real friend. But, just get up. Look around you.

 

This guy was knocked down for the second time, 12th round. He got back up like it was nothing. Was sparked out cold. No one facing Wilder has ever got up from one of his punches. This is the Irish for you. Hard as nails. What a lesson for life. Get your ass up, stand straight and fight again. Get up and fight. Don't let anyone knock you down.

 

I love the natural world. I caught myself watching this programme, David Attenborough's "Dynasties". This group of chimps, the alpha male. Wow. It makes you realise. The alpha, he's not just strong and tough as f**k, this guy is smart. I mean smart. He plays them, politically, all of them. And he gets turned on and beat up badly, nearly dead, they thought he was dead, it's ruthless. They leave him for dead, he bides his time, he eats, gets strong, and then pretends he's as strong as ever. He bluffs them all. He wins. He's back in, running the group and then he shows those back stabbers who is boss again but ultimately lets them live, forgives them but doesn't forget. What a story. What a life story. Again, get up, get back up.

 

You must get back up. It's what separates people going somewhere and doing something. Get up and stop being concealed by your worries.

 

When I sometimes get a little down, or get a little negative, I have to look around at what I've got and pinch myself. I look in my son's eyes and I feel an amount of love that is, physically, painful to me. He hurts me. His love makes my heart ache with joy. Sometimes, I feel like crying tears of happiness. How can anything be truly wrong when you can look at someone and feel that. To have D in bed with me on a night and my son sleeping in his nursery is heaven on earth. It's heaven on this earth.

 

And no matter what car I drive, if I drove one at all, no matter this house, in all its old, elegant, timeless glory. I don't care. Because I am not living for myself anymore.

 

The moment I said "I do", the moment he was in my arms, not a couple of seconds old, I stopped living for me. Life is sometimes hard, but also life is sometimes profoundly, unspeakably beautiful, and I know before I die, whenever that may be, I will not have a second of regret, because I experienced true love.

 

My father loves Nat King Cole. There is something about Nat King Cole that will always remind me of him.

 

One of my favourite songs, because of his influence and love for the singer, is also one of the most beautiful and wise lyrically to me. If you've ever heard it, I defy you not to feel like you have been transported to another heavenly plane. When I was young, I felt I understood it. Now in my late 20s, I feel I am only just starting to really understand.

 

'Nature Boy'

 

There was a boy

A very strange, enchanted boy

They say he wandered very far

Very far, over land and sea

A little shy and sad of eye

But very wise was he

 

And then one day

One magic day he passed my way

While we spoke of many things

Fools and Kings

This he said to me:

 

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn

Is just to love and be loved in return"

 

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn

Is just to love and be loved in return"

 

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn

Is just to love and be loved in return"

 

x

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Well, here I go posting twice on your thread....

 

Sometimes when I'm drifting off to sleep at night I imagine this idealised version of small town America in the deep south. Somewhere quiet and quaint and friendly, full of old passed down traditions. Never really changing. Letting the modern, rushed world happen somewhere "out there" and letting it all be of no concern or thought to this little piece of prairie America. Women creating a community while the men go off to work, children running freely between houses, playing in the woods, going in and out of neighbours houses. Women popping in for coffee and pie in each others kitchenettes. Women wearing cooking aprons during the day, everyone busy but there's a beautifully slow pace to everything. Dive bars lit up at night. Men wearing cowboy hats. Jeans. House dresses. It sends me off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

This part of your post reminded me of the video for this song. The video doesn't seem to relate much to the song lyrics, but it somehow fits the music. I like the quiet, simple life that it portrays. People going about their daily routines, lots of land, lots of sky, not much money. The video actually makes me listen to the song more.

 

[video=youtube;-5Ae-LhMIG0]

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  • 4 weeks later...

When I look at D, when he talks to me, when we touch, I can't believe anyone can be in love the way we are in love. When I look at my son, I can't believe anyone can love a baby as much as I must love him.

 

I see other couples and, I don't see it. They don't touch like us, they don't talk like us. We are in our own world.

 

When I broke up with my best friend, kind of, break up really, was she really my friend at all, she got me wrong, she thought she knew me but she didn't know me at all.

 

We're on the phone and she wants blood, the start of a potential blazing row, and I promise myself there and then I will not swear, and I don't, and I remain completely calm. I'm doing all the talking, she is listening, passive in her car, pulled over, I'm coming out through her loud speaker and this is the last she'll ever hear of me - I think she's glad, but she's crying because baby, don't the truth just hurt. I want to hurt her, instinctively, she is so wrong, and she doesn't care about hurting me, and she is trying to hurt me, it's got that low, but what she doesn't realise is she can't tell me anything I don't already know about myself, and I freely and openly admit my faults, and I lay my wears out on the table in front for all to see and yes, if they make the decision it's clear, this is who I am. She is trying to change me. She doesn't want me to be me. I should've been more organised. I should've been a better friend. I should get myself together, I need to plan ahead, I need to work within her time frame, I need to understand. She wants to mould me into what her boring little sheep middle class mind wants out of a girlfriend, someone to drink coffee mindlessly with and pretend to have a conversation but never even listen to each other and just talk over the other one waiting for the next thing to say. She wanted an obedient little sweet pet. Problem is, she's no perfection either, yet she is demanding it from me.

 

Sorry, my husband and my baby come first. First even before your hen do, if you can believe it. And I don't care how you feel about that. I hurt your feelings? You've hurt my feelings, but you don't seem to care about that, but I should care about yours even though you don't care about mine?

 

How can she lie and say "You're like a f*****g sister to me". Such tripe. Drama talk. Drama, drama, drama.

 

Then she says in the most horrible, snarl tone, "We all knew you wouldn't come." As if by saying that, she is going to somehow twist a dagger into me, because I am supposed to care what her other fake friends say about me behind my back? Oh they smiled at me! But now she admits they all talk about me, probably have a right laugh - I just think, how boring must their lives be to drudge my name up to make a conversation. Nothing better to do? Pitiful. And I don't care, I just don't care about any of it or what any of them think or what she thinks. All I can think is, you're nobody to me, I'm nobody to you, I don't care, we don't care, there's nothing more to say, surely. This is not a friendship.

 

I try and explain why we have such a ridge between us, I try to open up and articulate to her and I can hear even in the last moments of honesty she can't even match my offering and she is scoffing whilst I talk under her upset breathing and I finish and she snaps nastily, "All you've done for the last 15 minutes is talk about yourself. Typical. Are you finished?"

 

I had to hurl a pillow underneath my leg across the room. I was trying to throw her a bone. I was trying to explain, it's not you, darling... it's me. Let's move on. Nicely.

 

And I've wasted an hour of my time down the phone. I'll send the bridesmaid dress back. Basically, have a nice life, again, not that I care anymore and not that you do really. So different, we were so different it just became impossible to navigate.

 

She took her now husband, took the bits she didn't like and manipulated him to change over a number of years, and now he is her little dog on her lead, and that's what she wanted from me. Hunny, you picked the wrong puppy! Because I ain't your dog. We're different breeds. She knows it too.

 

And from moving on from this, from getting away from social media, and leaving my old past behind, everyone who is stuck in their ways, never moving, I have felt extremely free. I hardly have any links to that old life, and I never fitted in there anyway, and I have my King by my side, and I'm his Queen, and it's us against the world, and the world often rolls with us, we have things under wraps.

 

When you're happy, and when you're moving constantly towards what you want, your dreams, goals, passions - the things that make you tick - when you're true to yourself, when you're honest to your soul, you have no energy, no resources, no drive to wonder, to think, to even bother with those people who can only want to change you, bring you down, bring you to their level. They just kind of... disappear.

 

Does she think about me? I don't know. Conceited as it sounds, I imagine so. Do I think about her? Sometimes. But it's less, and less, and less, until it's nearly never now.

 

I dreamed about her last night, maybe for the last time. It was dark, pitch black night. I was standing in front of our house, there were only orange street lamps on, no one else around apart from I could kind of sense D was beside me somewhere. She was across the other side of the road, and she was walking away. And it was like, a vamped up version of her real life self, she was far more sexy, sassy, wearing extremely high heels. And I thought in my head, "Is she more feminine than me?" And then as if to answer my inner thoughts, D's voice was at the side of me but I still couldn't see him, and he answered, "She's more feminine than you." And I woke up. And she's not at all, not that that matters. Am I questioning my femininity lately? Am I feeling, you know, empowered some way, innerly quite a confident, masculine feeling? I don't know what dreams are trying to tell you, if they try and tell you anything at all, but I don't know, I kinda woke up with a kind of peace, but a feeling of rivalry. Am I competing against something that doesn't exist? Who knows. I just know that now, I feel great. Things are great. I feel like, so corny as this is, I am a forest, and there has been a fire, a forest fire, so destructive, and things have been raw and bleak and bare, but out of it all the drift wood has been gotten rid of and it's gone, and shoots are starting to peek through. Spring is coming. I feel renewed.

 

Daily I have been overwhelmed with happiness. To the point where I feel like crying. I look at my little boy, I look at my husband, that is enough, right there. I could die now. I could die happy. I would die with peace. I have had everything already and more than most. I have conquered my own heart by giving it away. Those boys have all of it, and there is now no more room for anything else but them. Nothing else but love.

 

I once worked with a lady who came in, quite new, when I worked in a corporate, legal office. My manager (whom I was assistant to) and other girls there, they used to always laugh at me, such a ditz, you know, all that. Sometimes they were quite mean. I don't care. Better to let them think you're dumb than too clever. This new lady that had started turned round when they must've been jibing me whilst I was on the phone to a client, and she said, "You think she just sits there and takes from her husband. You're wrong. She's sharp as a dart. She's a business woman."

 

I kinda half stopped talking and tried to carry on speaking, I had to ask the client on the end of the phone to repeat themselves. I had never had such a compliment and such a defence from someone who had only known me a few months. I was young, she was much older, but the other women shut up instantly. I think they knew it was... true?

 

You know, I give off that impression. I almost like people to get it wrong. I work all the time. I constantly support my husband. I deal with a lot of his clients also. This is all small stuff to me. I'm not bragging, I don't move mountains but it's so kind of, part of the parcel. I was there with him from the start. He came to me across that bar, a grin so cheeky, he wasn't rich, he had ideas, but I knew, I saw it in his eyes. Difference between a feline and a dog. He had a slink to him. Two minds met that night, they've been together ever since. I wouldn't change anything from the world. Yup, a ditz. A ditz when it doesn't matter. All the small things, everything everyone might think, they can think away. They can think away while I work away.

 

Lo x

 

You're my favorite kinda lovin

My kinda lovin

 

Stop

Don't move a muscle

The light is kissing your pretty face

I can't seem to look away

Oh, come here

Come closer

I could stay here with you all day

You're a summer holiday

 

This just ain't no ordinary thing we have

I can't go back

Upward through the ceiling into outer space

All I can say is

 

You're my favorite kinda lovin

My kinda lovin

 

You keep my head spinning

I can't understand it

It's our private planet

Pushing past all the limits

I hate to admit it

I can't shake this feeling

 

This just ain't no ordinary thing we have

I can't go back

Upward through the ceiling into outer space

All I can say is

 

You're my favorite kinda lovin

My kinda lovin

My kinda lovin

 

- CLARA, 'My Kinda' Lovin'

 

 

And I cry, I cry, even my eye cry

But who cares?

Who cares?

And I cry, I cry, even my eye cry

But who cares?

Who cares?

 

- Stefflon Don 'Hurtin' Me'

 

As they say, two can play

But keep that song away from me

In my time too much love

Has made me sad for so long

 

I was lost, can't you see

Through the long lonely night

Heaven knows, I believe

Won't you take a chance with me

 

Sometimes I get so blue

People say I'm just a fool

All the world, even you

Should learn to love the way I do

 

I was blind, can't you see

Through the long lonely night

Heaven knows, I believe

You can take a chance with me

 

- Roxy Music, 'Take A Chance With Me'

 

I got my money, I ain't worried about what y'all think

Don't get it twisted, don't think I'm that type of chick

 

- Amara la Negra 'What A Bam Bam'

 

But you are invincible

I can't break through your world

'Cause you live in shades of cool

Your heart is unbreakable

'Cause you live in shades of cool

 

- Lana Del Rey 'Shades of Cool'

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Well, here I go posting twice on your thread....

 

 

 

This part of your post reminded me of the video for this song. The video doesn't seem to relate much to the song lyrics, but it somehow fits the music. I like the quiet, simple life that it portrays. People going about their daily routines, lots of land, lots of sky, not much money. The video actually makes me listen to the song more.

 

[video=youtube;-5Ae-LhMIG0]

 

What a fantastic video - this is EXACTLY my feeling and thoughts whenever I think of Southern America! Sometimes I think maybe 1950's but apart from that, I loved watching this video... like my thoughts put onto the screen! Wasn't keen on the song Jibralta but the video captures that feeling I get or, kinda of my idealised version of that part of America.

 

Fab, thank you.

 

Lo x

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  • 3 weeks later...

Tonight, as I was rocking little B to sleep, I could see his beautiful face aglow by the string of moon and star lights along the wall, and he was just staring, staring at my face with a look so full of love and contentedness. After what felt like along time, he reached a hand out and placed one chubby finger at my lips, eyes still locked with mine. He put his finger into my mouth, and a huge, peaceful smile spread across his cupid bow lips. The little gap in-between his two front teeth was visible. The way to tell a real, broad smile from my little B.

 

And then, with both hands clasping each side of my cheeks, he opened his mouth, still smiling that peaceful, soft, broad smile; and pulled my face towards his to kiss me for the very first time. And he wouldn't stop. Over and over, he kept smiling, staring, and pulling me gently to him, back and forth, until his lids closed, his pale, pretty lids, and his body relaxed into that deep, magical baby sleep.

 

I watched a Tom Ford movie alone a few days ago, 'A Single Man', and was very impressed with its beauty and script but also extremely saddened at the same time.

 

There is a line right at the end that had me blubbering. And with my son in my arms in the warm light, I realised why I had cried.

 

At this time in my life, the line resonated with me. It simply and beautifully explains how I am feeling. It explains how I felt the night I met D. Those big, huge significant, life changing moments, but also the little ones, just as important. And it goes like this:

 

'A few times in my life I've had moments of clarity, where the silence drowns out the noise, and I can feel, rather than think."

 

I could die right now completely happy and satisfied that I have lived my life and experienced everything and more any one girl could wish for.

 

Full of love.

 

Lo x

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Tonight, as I was rocking little B to sleep, I could see his beautiful face aglow by the string of moon and star lights along the wall, and he was just staring, staring at my face with a look so full of love and contentedness. After what felt like along time, he reached a hand out and placed one chubby finger at my lips, eyes still locked with mine. He put his finger into my mouth, and a huge, peaceful smile spread across his cupid bow lips. The little gap in-between his two front teeth was visible. The way to tell a real, broad smile from my little B.

 

And then, with both hands clasping each side of my cheeks, he opened his mouth, still smiling that peaceful, soft, broad smile; and pulled my face towards his to kiss me for the very first time. And he wouldn't stop. Over and over, he kept smiling, staring, and pulling me gently to him, back and forth, until his lids closed, his pale, pretty lids, and his body relaxed into that deep, magical baby sleep.

 

I watched a Tom Ford movie alone a few days ago, 'A Single Man', and was very impressed with its beauty and script but also extremely saddened at the same time.

 

There is a line right at the end that had me blubbering. And with my son in my arms in the warm light, I realised why I had cried.

 

At this time in my life, the line resonated with me. It simply and beautifully explains how I am feeling. It explains how I felt the night I met D. Those big, huge significant, life changing moments, but also the little ones, just as important. And it goes like this:

 

'A few times in my life I've had moments of clarity, where the silence drowns out the noise, and I can feel, rather than think."

 

I could die right now completely happy and satisfied that I have lived my life and experienced everything and more any one girl could wish for.

 

Full of love.

 

Lo x

 

*beautiful

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The work of hormones must be partly at play here... cue all my soppiness.

 

I have no one else to turn too apart from D and I have no one else to say, I just want to shout it out because I am over the moon but terrified at the same time!

 

I found out I am pregnant again with, dum dum duuuummm, number 2! Baby on board! AGAIN!

 

It feels like my little B was only tiny and curled in my arms for the first time yesterday. Everyone told me it would fly by. I never believed them but it's true. And I always wanted a small age gap, and now I have my wish I don't know whether I am insane or not now reality is starting to sink in.

 

I don't want to count my chickens, these are very early days, I realise miscarriage is quite common. I am 29 and feel a sense of relief I guess through pressure I put on my own self to have two babies in my 20s. If everything goes okay with our second bubba, there will be just under 18 months between them and I will be 29 when they are born.

 

It feels so strange to think of myself having two, to think of little B having a brother or sister. I don't even know if I can love another baby like I love him? Is that a taboo fear? I'm not sure. It's how I feel.

 

Can I do this with two? Oh my gawd!

 

Anyway, what a blatant splurge - just had to get it out there and say it! We don't want to tell anyone until quite far down with this one. I know so many friends who have experienced miscarriages lately, it just reminds you how awful it is to have that surge of complete and utter wonderment and joy, to share your news, only to have to then tell everyone it was a blip almost, it's like it never happened.

 

I am slightly terrified through my excitement.

 

Yes, I must be insane. Insane but pregnant. Again.

 

Lo x

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