Monthly Archives: February 2011

little girls with lots of important words

In an attempt to teach the girls the value of writing, of expression, of the importance of their voice, and how important and valid who they are and what they feel is, we have started writing in a journal every night.  We write down good things that have happened that day, things they are worried about and anything new they have learnt.  It is a lovely moment at the end of the day to reflect and the girls have such lovely thoughts and a completely different perspective on life.

So far we are grateful for coffee and gigantic pizza, worried about sore tummy’s and princess’ (?) and are excited about learning circus tricks.

Oh they are so good for my soul.



Our journal is from our dear friends over at Poppies For Grace



Pour is a series of work by New York-based artist Holton Rower who creates these extraordinary paintings.

They are quite beautiful – don’t you think?

I kinda want to have a go! What fun.


Standing, stunned and lurching into the abyss of unbelief,  under the glaring lights of an emergency room.  That is the dark at its most sinister and desperate.

book snob

I just had a massive book snob moment and felt the need to share/confess.

On a blog that I normally enjoy and regularly read, the following statement was made, ‘I am not ashamed that Harry Potter & Edward Cullen are lovingly placed next to Gone With The Wind & Great Expectations on my bookshelf‘.

[deep breath]

Ok, so I don’t expect that everyone is going to like the same books as me, I don’t even expect people to always like the ‘classics’ , old and new, …but really? Twilight and Great Expectations in the same class?  Lovingly placed? Harry Potter I don’t have such an issue with, because when it comes down to it, JK Rowling is a good writer.  But Twilight?  Not only does the storyline teeter on the edge of ridiculousness (have you read the last book?!), it is so very badly written.  I don’t mind a bit of ‘easy reading’, as long as it is well written.   All power to you if you can, in all good conscience, group Meyer with Dickens.  I just don’t think I can.  And perhaps I am over stating it, but I think that the brilliance of the great writers should be respected and acknowledged.  They deserve to be honoured, as do their words.

And so really this begs the question, ‘well, what have you been reading lately if you are such a book doyen?’ [note the self pointed sarcasm]

I have recently read How the Light Gets In by M. J. Hyland. I am reserving comment till after our Book Club discussion of it.

And I am reading Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel (which was the 2009 Man Booker Prize winner).  Although, 100 pages in and I’m not so excited about it. We’ll see how it goes.


And next on the list is Freedom by Jonathan Franzen which has been touted as the ‘best book ever written’!!!  Big claim! I am fascinated to read this one.  I will absolutely keep you updated.


Swirling and assimilating with the dark.

The alchemy of life.

Both. Sorrow and joy. Good decisions and bad.


Dark and light.

Fighting for more light than dark.

That is what life is.


one handed

One of the things you learn when you have a baby is just how many things you can do one-handed.  And I have recently learnt the art of breast-feeding and browsing Etsy (usually at 4am).  So here a couple of treasures that have caught my eye of late.

George Washington Art Pendant (just for fun!)


From The Wheat Field (I love these prints, they are so bright and sweet)


From Allicoate

And from Roddy and Ginger (I could buy everything in this store!)




I love champagne.

I love 19th century Russian literature.

I love the colour green.

I love the sound of rain on our tin roof.

I love Coldplay’s Parachutes album.

I love the movie Amelie.

I love the way my sister had her hair done for her wedding.

I love my new ring.

But how I feel about Amelie or the colour green or champagne pales into nothingness in light of my little family.

There are few words.

It is state of being.

It is the deep breath in.

It is the exhaustion.

It the fear the grips my heart each night as I pull their blankets up and tuck them in and plead with God to keep them safe.

It is the delight.

It is the beauty.

Print from here.


She told me to go and glanced around the room – unsure and nervous. I gulped and faded into the background. ‘Give her a moment’, a little voice whispered, ‘Just a moment more’.

She turned her head, left and right.  Searching for something familiar. ‘I am familiar’, my heart cried, ‘I am the most familiar’.  But she turned again, recognised a friend and smiled.  Grasping hands they skipped off to play.

Still my heart cried, ‘I am the most familiar, pick me’.

And that is hardest thing, this time, for the first time, she is not meant to pick me.  She is meant to pick adventure and independence.  She is destined to learn and grow outside of the world she has lived in for the last five years.

To describe today as bittersweet in no understatement.  I am so proud of our girl.  She was excited and ready for her first day at school. She is social and sweet, kind and curious.  She will thrive and grow, learn and laugh.

But I will miss her. I worry for her. I worry for her heart. I want to protect her.  This not just about her growing up, it’s about me letting go.   It is harder than I expected. It is, indeed, bittersweet.