The Gallery - Portrait

The thing about the blogosphere is that it moves so quickly. I never officially decided to take a break from it, but a week of not blogging turned into a couple, which turned into a month which turned into a couple of those too. And before I knew it, I hadn't posted for what seemed like forever. And not only had I missed out on all sorts of memes, tags and awards, I'd also failed to contribute to a single one of Ms Sticky Fingers' Galleries. However, when I saw that this week was entitled Portraits, I decided that I couldn't abstain any longer.

So without further ado, I hereby include my two (sorry - couldn't just include one of my children) entries.

My children - Portaits.

Little Miss Renée - aged 5.

Little Miss Edie - aged 3.

Is blogging bad for your relationship?

Well is it?

I need to know what you think.

I need to know that I'm not the only one out there who, and I quote a very famous blogger here, is prone to say,

"Not tonight darling, I'm just in the middle of tweaking my avatar".

I read a very funny article recently on Fuel My Blog which stated that the number of blogging-related problems has risen by more than 3000% over the last three years.

But aside from mental health problems brought on by paying attention to visitor counters or hurty fingers for people who can't touch type (both of which were quoted as symptoms), the real problems that I'm talking about are those which concern relationships, specifically marital ones.

Now it's no secret that I've been a bit down in the dumps recently (don't panic - I won't bore you with all that again), besides my husband would never forgive me if I told the world that we've been having marital problems.  But, you know what, we have.

So there.  I said it.

But what I want to know, is if it has anything to do with blogging.

As the Fuel My Blog article recommends,

"Involve your partner with the process.  For instance, get them to make you a cup of tea while you're blogging and say 'thank you' nicely."

Now, all jokes aside, how many of us have spent an entire evening (or erm, evenings) in front of the computer reading about other peoples' lives while ignoring that very person who we've chosen to spend our own lives with?  And how many times have we preferred to stay in and blog rather than go out and, erm not blog?

Are our other halves happy that we've found something to keep us occupied and supportive in our writing, or are they hurt and upset that they don't have quality time with us anymore and exasperated that we prefer our virtual friends to our real ones? 

I'm not saying that blogging is solely responsible for the friction within my marriage.  I mean the fact that we've seen each other for ten days out of the past 64 could have something to do with it. But seriously, as much as I love blogging and all the things that it's brought me, wasn't life just a little bit simpler before I discovered it?

I'm not sure. I'm still thinking about it.

A little bit of Chocolate and Love

So we all know I've been a bit miserable of late.  A bit uninspired. And more than a bit prone to curling up on the sofa and sobbing until I've bored myself stupid with the sound of my own patheticness.

But, fear not.  I'm planning on putting an end to it very soon.

Besides, there's only so many times you can pretend that your watery eyes and swollen lids are because your contact lenses are playing up before someone starts to suspect the real reason you look like you've seen better days.

Sooooooo, imagine my complete and utter unadulterated delight when I opened an e-mail from Fuel My Blog a few weeks ago, asking whether I'd be interested in reviewing the 'highest quality chocolate that money can buy'.

Now I may be miserable, but I certainly am not stupid.

It had my name written all over it.

Because

• (a) I need to get back to blogging.
• (b) I NEED some chocolate.
• (c) I AM chocolate queen.

I mean, who else decides to eat chocolate every day for nine months during their pregnancy because they've read one article which states that chocolate makes for happy babies?  And who else is sent eight Mars Delights in the post by their Mother and eats them all in one sitting?  And as my husband says, only you can eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and supper and not feel bad about it.  Well ok, you AND your Father.

What can I say?  There's a sweet tooth gene deep in my DNA.

So, having established my credentials and having let you in on a little bit of the background, you can imagine just how I was feeling when that parcel dropped through the door.

Desperate? 

Just a little bit.

Did it matter that it was two days after Easter and I had already had my year's fill of the brown stuff?

Maybe.  But I refuse to be weighed down by irrelevancies.

The fact remains...I tore that package open like I'd been starved of chocolate for a year.  Two years.  More even.  I could smell it through the fibres of plastic wrapping and jiffy bubble wrap.

All those evenings of crying myself to sleep would be undone in an instant.  The moment that chocolate passed my lips, happiness would be mine.

I could feel it.

I emptied the bars onto the floor in front of me.

One, two, three, four, five bars of chocolate.

But hold on.

Organic dark chocolate.

Organic extra dark chocolate.

Organic extra dark chocolate with natural orange oil.

RAW chocolate.

Another organic extra dark chocolate.

I peered inside the package.  Nothing else remained.  I tipped it upside down for good measure and shook.  Hard.

FOR FUCK'S SAKE.  WHERE'S THE MILK CHOCOLATE?

I may be the chocolate queen, but I'm the chocolate queen who doesn't like dark chocolate.

At all.

Ever.

The disappointment was palpable.

I could have cried.  I think maybe I did.  Organic dark chocolate bars may even have been thrown across the room.  And then I went into the kitchen and found solace in the form of my Lindt rabbit.

So what's left to say?  Well, I did of course attempt to eat it.  Tastes change over the years.  Or so they say.  Unfortunately, not in my case.

I still hate dark chocolate.

Organic or not.

Chocolate and Love or Terry's All Gold.

'Tis the same to me.

But all is not lost, Chocolate and Love.  You see, I had the ladies over.  Ladies who love dark chocolate.  I couldn't let it go to waste now could I?

And this is what they said.

Waxy, smooth, good without being too much, but not as good as Hotel Chocolat.

So 'not great, great then'? I asked.  'Well that's a shame', I said, 'because I have all these bars and they'll only be thrown in the bin.'

Needless to say, when  the ladies who love dark chocolate left for the night, there were no bars remaining.

Which is just as well.  Because I had my Lindt rabbit for company.

Birth of an Elephant

I feel unable to write at the moment. My head is filled with so many things, all impossible to share. So instead of writing I thought I'd post a video instead - and maybe my poor neglected blog won't feel sorry for itself any longer.

I saw this amazing video today and it moved me to tears. It's the birth of an elephant. And apart from the obvious miracle that is life and creation, what really moved me was the Mother elephant herself.

Just watch. You'll see what I mean.

365 days later...

Who would have thought a year ago, when I started writing this blog that I'd still be here now?

Not me, that's for sure.

I'm almost proud of myself.

Ok, I am proud of myself.

Especially when you consider the following.


Most blogs only make it to two months before tossing in the towel. Over a million blogs have only one post and were abandoned after just one day. 1.63 million made it for 126 days and 132,000 blogs were abandoned after one year.

Like I said, I'm proud of myself.

And my blog.

I love you blog.

Thanks for being there.

And thankyou to everyone who had ever read and left a comment.

I will be forever grateful.

Here's to the next 365 days.

How to extract a baked bean from a nostril

Isn't it funny what makes you happy?

They say it's the little things.

They could be right.

I've been feeling miserable you see. A bit sad. A bit overwhelmed by all sorts of things.

And to be honest, a bit annoyed that Edie's cot sold for a measly £19.99 to someone who then declared that it wasn't even for her and that she was intending to sell it on (for a higher price) when all I really wanted was for it to go to a good home.

C'est la vie I suppose.

But today my spirits have been lifted by something rather small.

Tiny even.

A baked bean.

And d'you know what? I don't even like baked beans.

But there you go. Sometimes your greatest nemesis provides you with your grandest triumph.

Sooooooooo.

Tonight's supper...

Lasagne, brussel sprouts, baked beans.

I know. It's an odd combination, but there you go. Edie loves brussel sprouts, Renée loves baked beans and they're both indifferent to lasagne, but every now and then it's worth a try.

Five minutes into the meal...

Sudden screaming.

"Mummy...Edie's got a baked bean stuck up her nose."

Oops.

In another life I would have had visions of hospitals, doctors, tweezers, stress.

But not in this life.

Oh no.

Because I am 'Mother-who-knows-how-to-extract-baked-bean-from-nostril-even-if-it's-jammed-really high-up'.

You see, sometimes I listen to friends.

Ahem, sometimes not.

Turns out that when Veronica told me what to do when you get a bead stuck up a child's nostril, I happened to be listening.

And if you're reading this and you don't know, then read on...and concentrate. Because this is what I did.

I closed the, erm, baked bean-free nostril with one hand, opened Edie's mouth with the other and blew.

Hard.

A big, sudden puff.

And d'you know what happened?

The baked bean shot across the room like a bullet.

Unbelievable.

I CAN NOT tell you how chuffed I was.

This might give you some idea.

I did a lap of honour around the sitting room, waving my arms like an albatross as I went.

And now I'm smiling a big, big smile.

Like I said, it's the small things that make a difference.

And PS - if you've commented on my previous few posts I apologise for not having replied. I promise I will...asap x

Cot - farewell my friend

If there is ever a seminal moment in a child's life, it's the transition from babies cot to big grown-up bed.

This normally occurs somewhere around the child's second birthday, which means that the child has no memory of the move, making it more of a seminal moment in a parent's life, as they lament the end of the baby years.

Which is exactly what I'm doing at the moment.

And I'm emotional.

For Edie, this transition has been, somewhat fraught, not to mention rather slow, starting more than a year ago and ending last night with the listing of it on e-bay.

I almost cried.

Edie may have already turned three, but she has show no signs of wanting to make the transition into her big girls bed, if 'Mummy, cot'. *wail, sob, sob, wail* 'Mummy, cot, pleeeeeease', is anything to go by.

Silly, maybe, but it has been more than just a place to sleep. For a child such as Edie, who lists her best friends as 'pillow' and 'thumb', 'cot' has been her little sanctuary, a place that she has always welcomed, never ever resisted and on numerous occasions, has had to be forcibly removed from.

But the time has come. She is now as long as the cot itself and, I hate to admit it, almost as wide.

It is, however, still in her room, and until e-bay works its magic, there it shall remain, a reminder of happier times. And I say that because last night at 2 o'clock in the morning, I sat cradling a crying child who had, unfortunately, thumped to the floor from her newly-slept in bed. The presence of 'cot' was not welcome, causing, as it did, even more tears.

Little Edie, we will never forget your cot. I was even tempted to write a poem, 'an ode to cot', but having sat here for the last half an hour trying to work out what rhymes with cot other than bot bot, I realise that I am, erm, not a poet.

So little cherub, this will have to do.

You were a baby.
And now you're not.
Hello bed.
Goodbye cot.