Sharing for sharing’s sake

I have a blog. That blog desires to be updated.

I’m also a mum. My brain is regularly drained to completely empty by the time I get a minute to go anywhere near a computer. Especially when you spend somewhere close to an hour reading a book especially designed to make children sleepy while your 1-year-old cries at you… So, you give up and let him cry for ten minutes. Go in, lie him down, let him cry for ten minutes more, and go in and lie him down and wait the two minutes it takes for him to finally fall asleep… Much faster than an hour of reading. Of course, I would prefer it if I could read my child to sleep, but he’s just not a fan of his cot. And I can’t leave him sleeping in the car over night. And he can’t sleep in my bed until I’m ready to be there, too (no safety sides). It’s just one of those “battles” I’m not winning at the moment.

On the bright side, Mr6 generally settles to sleep really easily, and sleeps deeply.

Anyway, enough about that. I thought I would type up a wee story I wrote in June 2014 during a writing meeting I attended (and Chaired). For this exercise, we had four images from which to choose as inspiration, and 30 minutes to write. No, I cannot recall the image that inspired the following, but so be it… you’ll survive! (Yes, you will!)

Here goes…

Dinner was to be on the table at five thirty.

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I’m no cake decorator, but…

… I made this for my son’s 3rd birthday (party tomorrow):

Tickety Toc CogsThere you go… Tickety Toc Cog Cake… A bit simpler than trying to cater to his love of Pocoyo. He also loves Peppa Pig, but it seems everyone has a Peppa Pig themed birthday at 3 years old these days.

Pretty basic. My sculpting talents have always been a little basic… here’s hoping my writing is better, eh?

Cake is chocolate (Edmund’s Cookbook) and butter cream icing… basic… simple…

Yes. My son celebrates his birthday on International Talk Like A Pirate Day… now I know why my labour lasted so long.

(Someone accused me of being a wuss when I mentioned I’d got an epidural… I set him straight pretty quick… I laugh that he took 48hrs to arrive into this world… try a week, buddy… — and if all I was having from the week before my son arrived were the Braxton Hicks contractions, they were frequent ones at 5mins apart, 60-90 secs long)

Keep Calm and Carry On

Contemporary rendering of a poster from the Un...
Contemporary rendering of a poster from the United Kingdom reading “Keep Calm and Carry On”, created during World War II. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Wow. I’ve seen this meme bandied about over the last couple of years… never bothered to look up its origin. But there you go. According to Wikipedia, the British Government popped it up on posters at the beginning of the Second World War, to help ease the concerns of the public… or rather, to tell the publc to “get over it”.

I was so sure it was a mother’s mantra.

It is, isn’t it?

Well, it sure was for me yesterday… and so I thought I’d share.

The inciting incident for this story happened back at the start of February… day after my book released, to be exact. I was heading out for dinner and a movie with a bunch of friends (absolutely nothing to do with my book launch, by the way, which I was very happy with… I usually like to quietly make my way in life until I can say BAM! Here I am!). It all started with my choice of footwear. Usually, when I go out, I wear my high heals. Lovely shoes (and I tend to only have one pair until they’re so worn I must replace them), but this time, I had decided to pull out an old pair of wedge-style shoes. Now, when wedges seemed to be all the rage last year or so I screwed up my face at them, because I think they look horrid — forgetting, of course, that I actually had a pair of my own. The difference is that the “classy” high heels with a filled in sole are just not my thing. These ones look like little pink sparkly ballet shoes; they are covered in beads (that were probably hand sewn on by some poor girl in India who didn’t get paid nearly enough, but I’m so grateful because I could actually afford them… I’m so sorry!), and they tie up my legs with pink ribbon… see… sometimes I’m a girl! Woah.

Anyway, recovering…

So, I was wearing these wedge-style shoes… I know, shoot me now.

After buying our tickets to Django Unchained, we crossed the road to the nearest Thai restaurant, and my wedge-style sole found the chipped edge of a broken bit of tarseal…

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Waiting to be Santa

Every year we attend the Christmas Eve Dessert Party hosted by some friends of ours (the 9th annual, this year). Tonight’s party has kept the toddler up two hours past his bed time… He’s just gone down (it’s MY bedtime, now). Time to wait for him to drift off, so I can sneak in there and be Santa… He’s 2. This year sets a precedent, I think. I hope I get it right…